Spook isn’t really sure of what he’s expecting when his phone goes off at one in the morning, and he really isn’t surprised when he hears Rocky’s voice accented into English cockney by what must’ve been a good amount of beerzy booze, but what does make him pause before hitting the end call button on what’s sure to be a drunken drawl of a speech are the first words he hears: “You’re beautiful.”
Normally Rocky’s preamble has something to do with the party he’s at, or the girl he’s been hitting on. Sometimes they’re about how he can’t find his keys or pants so Spook can you please unlock your front door because it’s getting a bit nippy out here and I think your bed might be a little warmer. Those are the kind of drunk dials Spook’s come to expect, so when such a ludicrous statement catches him off guard he’s silent on the phone until Rocky’s voice crackles through again, “Spooky?”
"...You're drunk."
(hey someone round robin this with me or continue it idc)
"You know what's really funny?" Rocky asks. The pair of them walk down the sidewalk together, pinkies interlaced. The studs on Rocky's wristband catch the rays of the setting sun. Nat pushes her bleached bangs out of her face, tucks them behind her ear only for them to fall back into place.
"Huh?"
Rocky pauses to push those few strands back out of her face with a half-smile before continuing to walk. "I dunno... there's this weird sense of relief I have right now. Like if I wasn't here walking with you I would've.... I dunno, gone on that impromptu roadtrip with Spook. And for some reason I feel like that... would've ended badly. Car crash status-badly. It's a weird gut feeling. You know what I mean?"
All at once Entre feels hands closing in on his throat causing him to choke on the words that intended to follow. His vision seems to stutter, still, then rearrange itself so that Swag, mere inches from his face, is in clear focus--from the determination set in the line of his mouth to the tears in his eyes--
"I will," Swag whispers. His hands tremble with the weight of those words.
And right then Entre feels something crack within him, something irreparable and necessary and it shatters into a million pieces on the bloodied floor of his conscience. Entre wonders if Swag could see it, if Swag could feel it, because he always thought that Swag was the one who understood him the most. But if Swag noticed, he'd relinquish his choke hold. Of course he doesn't do that. "So... you're picking them... over me--?"
Swag shakes his head no, but his fingers shift a little on the sweat gathering on Entre's skin as he tightens his grip. "I'm not," he says. "But you're leading our camp somewhere we can't fucking follow!"
(plotless drabble but if anyone wants to take this somewhere that'd be super awesome)
Maybe there's an element of control in losing control. It's different, this weird notion of giving the reins to someone else but if Spook was to give them to just anyone it'd be Rocky hands down. And maybe that's exactly what they're doing, maybe that's exactly what they're doing as Rocky leans in a little more with tongue and teeth and--jesus, it's something he'd like to say is chaste which it is, but it has the barest hint of something more. Like, Spook knows that his best friend has experience in matters such as these and so Rocky knows how to work things up. But even with the bitter taste of vodka on his lips--on both their lips, really--he knows how to give it all without really giving everything, kind of like a tease, but--
--no. There's restraint, and hesitance, which is something different for two teens used to the thrumming drive of impulse, and even if they both can feel the burn of alcohol and want and something shining bright in both their eyes, well.
"You know," Swag says afterwards, his breath a touch of warmth on the back of Entre's neck, "we could keep going; just the two of us. It's not even about them anymore, is it?"
Part of Entre wants to believe they could, really really wants to believe that it could be just him and Swag against the world, no ifs, ands, buts, ors, or fucks given--
--but it doesn't work that way. Things were never that easy.
He presses the pistol up just above his adam’s apple; he swallows hard and can feel it bob against the barrel.
Part of him thinks about reconsidering this whole—thing. He’s sitting outside of camp, and if the sun was visible it would probably be sometime around noon, but the red haze of daylight looks the same from sun up to sun down. Except for One who’s on watch with him, everyone’s still sleeping.
At least he’s not going to make too big of a scene, he thinks. Like with—him. It’ll be quick and efficient and aside from the single shot it’ll be quiet; everything it should’ve been with—him.
The spot where it happened is just a stone’s throw away. Even if he squints he can’t see any dark stains in the dirt, no signs of a struggle, no evidence that—he was killed here. Dave did a fine job of cleaning up. He’ll do a fine job of cleaning up this last mess too.
And with that last thought, Entre flicks the safety and squeezes the trigger and—he’s pretty sure he can hear Bitter’s screams before everything goes black.
(But it doesn’t occur to him that they might’ve been his own.)
I just noticed that two of my favourite askblogs I'm writing background stories for because they don't have fully fleshed out canon ones
but I think they're my favourite characters partly because they don't have fully fleshed out backstories? to begin with it's nice because there's an empty canvas with vague guidelines to go off of but at the same time it's an empty canvas and you're scared to start painting
spooktre I'm... probably not going to keep going with the drabble partly because I don't like the way I went with it
yes he's gone insane like truffula flu!entre but it's a different kind of insane--
they both hear voices
the main difference between TF!entre versus 2S!entre is that the former hears his voices constantly and talks to them (how much he listens depends on his mental state though it seems) while with the latter... I feel like the voices goaded him into killing everybody and mutilating his face but they left him relatively alone after that? they realised that they might've pushed him a little too far while TF!entre still has a ways to crack huehue
TF!entre's voices call him dear, dearest, etc as some kind of support system
2S!entre's voices called him sir, boss, Mr. Once-ler to reinforce that he is in control of his own darn life, thank you very much, since being able to make his own choices of his seemingly own volition outside of external forces (such as his mother, societal/public/peer pressure, etc) is something that is important to him... at least it became important enough to be the thing he fixated on once he slipped
also I really like the idea of normalverse and 2spooky entre interacting because just like gisela said... when it dawns on entre that this not only is a biggering!once-ler end gone wrong....... it's an ending of HIM that's gone wrong..........
well his reaction would be something very interesting to think about, to say the least
(I like gisela's idea that he locks himself up once he starts noticing that he's been losing his cool lately over things like interviews and things his mother says, just like spooktre said he would, and locking himself up only makes the process go even faster)
and the othe rreason why I probably won't continue with it: I wrote that drabble based on the above ^ and because for me writing descriptive things whether it's about gore or hands is something of an exercise haha since describing things is a lot easier than writing about heavier topics that have dumb things like emotion in them
and the other once-ler askblog bg fic I'm working on I'm too scared to talk about for the stupidest of reasons but here's a hint: I posted a drabble about him before
but this one seems to be in for the long haul c: the thing that makes me scared about writing backgrounds and sometimes fics in general is what if the mods don't like it?
then I remember I'm writing this because I want to get the idea out of my head and it's because I like it
but anyway
I feel like I'm taking a lot of liberties because I created an OC who was supposed to show up in just one scene-- and he does, technically he shows up in two, but he's left such a lasting impression on rockstar because I feel like rockstar is a lot more isolated from the other once-lers due to various reasons (among them being busy with thneed business AND show business, not believing that there are other versions of him running amok)
there's this whole contrast between him and his manager and the roles they play for each other, and it becomes this major point when rockstar and swag become friends
rockstar finds himself both dicking around and managing swag, just like his manager did for him
and the thing that pisses me off is that I don't know how this one'll end since I'm kind of just throwing ideas at a board, because I just like thinking about him and how he came to be in the truffula flu AU
well that goes for any character at all that I like, really
