light 'em up, gang!

sawyer hathaway. nineteen. the leader.

[xsawycrs]

bcatnikmal‌:

Mallory, admittedly, was not the coolest kid in high school. They spent way more time tinkering in the school’s basement than attending pep rallies and football games. Friends were never really a concerned for them, honestly? They had Sawyer and the rest of the gang, all hodge-podged for their own little cliques, so why would Mal ever need to stray? Then again, it wasn’t like MAl would even be welcome with some more preppy social groups, but nevertheless, who needs lots of friends when you have science! The was their true saving grace for this down, a great place to scavenge for old parts of a radiator or stove to make something totally new and exciting. And it made for a great little 2-person club! or, 3, counting that weird exchange student.

“Yeah, it’s a ghost detector!” Mallory wiggled their hands at Sawyer, performing their very best spooky ghost voice at him. Though Mal did not actively believe in the supernatural, they were definitely open to being proven wrong. IT was just funny to see their otherwise incredibly intelligent friend quake in his boots at the thought of an old hospital, “Kidding, kidding. They’re sort of…. dark-vision glasses? I just fiddled with some fiber-optic cables and uh… I don’t know if they’ll work yet.”

Sawyer had never cared much about being cool in high school—that had flown out the window as soon as he came in as the weird, quiet kid who spent his lunch hour sitting by himself and reading instead of trying to make friends. As soon as he got caught making out with the exchange student under the bleachers, every chance of being able to “fit in” flown out the window and replaced with the word queer. That didn’t matter, however, when Sawyer didn’t have to worry about running into anyone after school since he spent all his time in the science department with Mallory. It was nice, having someone who never cared about the rumors flying around about him, regardless of whether or not they were true. And, frankly, Mal was so much smarter than him about these things that he felt like he was getting smarter just by osmosis. 

“God, I wish,” he said, shaking his head as he lay on his stomach behind them on the bed and rested his chin in his palm. “So, we wouldn’t need flashlights in the dark? Because that would be great. My flashlight went out while Mary and I were walking through the asylum, and I’m pretty sure it gave her a heart attack. It would save us a lot of stress.” He paused, glancing around. “I don’t know, I bet we could just shove a towel under the door in the bathroom and try them out in there. I’m sure you’re going to get them in tip top shape.” 

[xsawycrs]

bcatnikmal‌:

“Ghosts can smell! They’re gas, so they probably communicate through gas!” Mallory was completely bullshitting Sawyer for his reaction. If ghosts really did exist, they would not care a lick about Sawyer’s cooking. Mal’s worrying said otherwise, however, as getting the pair in trouble was not on the agenda for today, “Can you just use a microwave meal nextime?”

Sawyer waved a hand at them. “You are overreacting. If ghosts can smell, they’ll just come around asking for a bite,”  he said, wrinkling his nose as he looked over at Mal. “Maybe,” he replied, flipping over the skewer of now partially burnt vegetables before scooting back towards the mouth of the van to sit next to them. “You think there might actually be ghosts in there?” he asked. As if on cue, a screech echoed in the dark. “Oh, fuck.” 

[xsawycrs]

marcofind‌:

If there was one thing Marco had learnt as a child, it was how to entertain himself. His family had never really had much in the way of material goods, and he’d never had the attention span to sit down with a book and read for hours. Instead, he got lost in his own head, thoughts drifting on various topics, or drifting away entirely… Marco liked people, but he liked his own company, too. What he was learning to appreciate was being in his own company around other people. Sitting quietly, eyes unfocused, with Sawyer’s weight against his legs – it was comfortable and familiar in a way all new to him.

He blinked a little as Sawyer broke the silence, turning his head to look at him, mouth curling into a smile. “Which of you is the lead writer?” he asked, reaching out to scratch Max’s head. The dog yawned happily in response, and Marco couldn’t help but echo him, trying and failing to stifle it as he stretched out a little. “I think he has a lot of interesting things to say. Epic stories of bones he’s buried like priceless treasure, or the quest to catch his own tail… I dunno whether you can match that kinda depth with your lyrical ability, Hathaway.”

Sawyer had never been alone as a kid—he’d had his brother around for as long as he could remember, and that had given him someone who was always on his side, even as they moved to different places all over the country. It was probably why Sawyer had wanted a whole gang to go on this trip with him—sure, he could have scraped together the cash from his fry cook days at the diner in Coolsville, bought himself a car, and set out on his own, but he didn’t think he’d be able to handle the loneliness of the open road on his own. At least now, he had a group of people who were his, even if it was only for the summer. 

“Max, obviously. He’s got the brains, I just have the opposable thumbs,” Sawyer said, sitting up and dog-earing his page before flipping open the guitar case in the corner and picking up the instrument. “Okay, I’m going to play it, but as you know, I can only sing all goofy,” he said, clearing his throat as he sat up. Max perked up in response, sitting up and dropping his jaw, his tongue hanging out of his mouth. “Behind the house, my mother’s dogs sleep in their kennels and howl at the moon,” Sawyer started, before howling lowly, prompting Max to mimic him. Sawyer could only get through a few more words of the song before he burst out laughing because of Max’s intense desire to be the lead singer, and he shook his head. “Obviously, it’s  a work in progress.” 

[xsawycrs]

ofwendys‌:

It was not darkness itself that Wendy feared at night, but the fact she was left alone with her thoughts is what terrified her most, forcing her to stay awake. Even as she hopelessly searched for figures hiding in the shadows of the room, painted by the dim light that seeped through the motel’s curtains, sleep would continue to elude her. She had hesitantly agreed to Sawyer’s offer to break away from the motel, not quite trusting the trip could change anything for her. And yet, when she heard the boy whisper her name at the door, Wendy jumped from her bed and followed him close saying nothing, like a shadow in the dark.

The soft sound of the wind caressing the fields of gold called out to her when the pair first arrived. She did not how much she’d yearned for the tranquility that was before her, not until that moment. Instinctively, her right hand reached over her face and hid the smile that suddenly appeared on her lips. Happiness was dangerous. “You were right, I suppose.” Wendy allowed, finding her spot on Sawyer’s jacket as if entering a sacred space. She did not dare speak of his sweet gesture, perhaps out of fear of ruining the moment, but she knew she could at least reciprocate his kindness by appreciating it in full.

She rested her elbows on the ground, her curious gaze marveling at the incredible vastness of the dark. “I have to ask you something,” Wendy started, her eyes now searching for Sawyer’s. “There is so much beauty and real mystery in the world we already know. And you’re worried about something so impossible, like spirits haunting some forgotten ruins. Why?” Wendy was careful, making sure her voice was soft instead of her usual aggressive tone when she demanded answers. No, the last thing she wanted was to hurt the one person that cared enough about her to bring her there.

Sawyer knew that he and Wendy were the same in that they hated the night. Night was when the nightmares came, the memories of the shrill sound of rubber against pavement, the screech of metal twisting, the crush of glass breaking. Sawyer had tried his best to repress memories of that day, but it wasn’t like it was all that far in the past—and his mother, as much as Sawyer loved her, never wanted to talk about it with Sawyer. There were pictures of his brother all over the house, but they never said his name. All Sawyer would have liked was to just take some time to remember him, but they had just kept moving until they left that memory far in the past. 

He caught the grin on her features, and he couldn’t help the smile that raised his own lips, crossing his ankles and drawing his knees towards his chest as he rested his elbows atop them. Sawyer would do anything for this group of friends, ragtag bunch or not, and he wanted to make sure that Wendy was finding what she needed with them. Even if that was just a little bit of peace and quiet every once in a while. Sawyer looked up towards the moon, the smile on his face retreating to something more gentle as he just basked in the glow of the evening. Sawyer needed some peace and quiet, too, sometimes needed time away from the craziness of the group and the mischief they got into. He was a shy kid at heart, and this was a completely new experience for him. He never had friends who had stuck around before. 

“I don’t know.” Sawyer kept looking at the field in front of them, finding solace in the gentle way the stalks of wheat swayed in the breeze. He didn’t necessarily believe in the supernatural, but he wasn’t precluding the possibility that they could exist. He pursed his lips lightly in thought. “I guess I want to see all the weird and wacky things out here, you know. I always had a thing for bizarre shit.” He looked back at her, a soft smile on his features. “Not just the beautiful things. The world is big and wide and there’s so much to see and I want to see all of it.” He looked back towards the field. “And who knows what’s out there, you know? Even if there aren’t ghosts. There’s so much.”  

[xsawycrs]

kwamewiththedocs‌:

I don’t know wasn’t exactly what Kwame was hoping to hear form their fearless leader, but then again, how could he know? None of them knew what was going on, and yet somehow that made all of them even more intrigued. “Oh, serial killers are definitely worse than ghosts. Like that’d be bad, and I don’t mean good.”  Kwame took a breath. He couldn’t seem like a coward; he wasn’t a coward. Tightly gripping his camera, Kwame thought of some more scenarios. “But wouldn’t it be tough to have a serial killer in a town like this? Maybe everyone doesn’t know everyone, but it seems like people are definitely in each other business.” Kwame spent a lot of time just looking at people’s facial expression, and a lot people in town looked at others the way you looked at a friend you hadn’t seen in a little bit.

“Okay, but, like, if it was a serial killer, at least it would be a flesh and blood dude! And we’d be heroes,” he pointed out. “If we go to people and say we caught a serial killer, we’re golden boys. If we say we caught a ghost, they’re going to think we’re loony.” Sawyer wasn’t necessarily afraid, though—he had always been a precocious, curious kid, always going where he wasn’t supposed to go and getting in trouble for “meddling.” Sawyer shrugged. “I mean, you’d think someone would know if their pal was a serial killer, but you don’t see anyone stepping up to say their brother is the zodiac killer,” Sawyer pointed out. He rubbed at his jaw thoughtfully, glancing up and down the main street where they were standing. People were standing in circles, all talking to each other, stopping each other as they walked down the street to catch up. “But it does seem like everyone knows everyone here.” 

[xsawycrs]

case file 001: daylight run

[xsawycrs]

marygilinskys‌:

Mary squinted at the map as she looked over his shoulder, “Kind looks like those mazes that were on the kids’ place mats at the diner we had breakfast in.” She pointed to where they were, then letting her finger trace a circle all the way around. “I don’t think it’s gonna be as easy getting back to the start as this thing tells us.” Mary shook her head. She learned not to trust maps– there was always a short cut, but there were also objects in the way that a map wouldn’t warn you about. Mary figured they’d encounter the latter while in the asylum.

She followed him down the hall, sticking close behind as she shined her light on the wall– only to see scratch marks and torn wallpaper. It completely and fully gave her the creeps, but she had to suck it up and put her big girl shorts on. No one would take her seriously if she ran out screaming on the very first case. Not that Mary minded staying in the car while the rest of the gang looked around, but this was better than being alone in the van in the dark. 

When they arrived to the first office doors, Mary jiggled the knob only for it to be locked. “Oh well, it’s locked. They must be having a special ghost meeting, we shouldn’t disturb them.” She played until Sawyer gave her a pointed look. Mary let out a groan and pulled a pin from her hair to start picking the lock. She should’ve been more appreciative of her awful dates in high school, without them she’d have never learned to pick locks in order to break into the school’s offices to change her test scores.

Sawyer wrinkled his nose. “Yeah, I gotta be real with you, those pancakes were not it,” he said, shaking his head. And Sawyer would know—he basically lived of pancakes and candy, which really begged the question of how he didn’t just keel over from malnutrition. Somehow, his body kept going, and he wasn’t going to question it. For now, at least. “Too bad we didn’t bring breadcrumbs,” he joked lightly, though he squinted as he scrutinized it further. “Shine the light over here,” he said, pointing at one corner of the map before squinting at it more. “Are those penrose steps?” he asked. 

Sure enough, they were—and for the life of him, Sawyer couldn’t figure out why they would put an optical illusion like that on a map of what was essentially a hospital. “Why would they put that on there?” he asked, more in a mumble to himself rather than to Mary. He made a mental note to look more closely at that later, folding the map up and tucking it into his jacket before continuing down the hallway. He held the flashlight up by his shoulder, the high-powered light thankfully providing some illumination in the darkened, windowless hallway. 

When she jiggled the doorknob, Sawyer just made a face at her until she pulled the pin out of her hair. When they were in high school, they had used that same trick to break into school before when they needed to change the grade on one of Sawyer’s tests (because, no matter how hard he tried, he kept bombing his government exams) and when they snuck into the abandoned house on the edge of town. It was one of the first cases they had taken on, back when it was just the two of them in Mystery, Inc. and Sawyer couldn’t help but feel a little nostalgic. Once the door opened, however, it was strange—there was just a wall, about two feet in front of them. “What the hell?” he asked, shining his light in there. It wasn’t big enough to be a closet, and the walls had no shelves or even any indication that there had been shelves. “What is this?”

[xsawycrs]

samosets‌:

Sam chuckled as Sawyer jogged up to him. Motioning for his friend to follow, Sam set off on a lightly worn trail. With a sideways glance, he happily took the joint from Sawyer. “Is it an old white guy?” he teased, taking a long drag. “I’m kidding, you know, lay it on me. Make me question existence itself.” As much as he teased, Sam enjoyed these conversations with Sawyer. 

“Not old, but he is white. I think he gets extra points because he’s gay and loves to talk about weird sex.” Sawyer chuckled, shaking his head. “So, like, what Foucault says is that we’re all agents of the state, right? And the way we’re agents of the state is because we have this external prerogative to procreate, and if we go by that prerogative, we just create more submissive agents of the state to continue procreating. Basically, if you refuse to do that shit, you’re flipping a big-fucking-middle-finger to the man.” 

[xsawycrs]

marygilinskys‌:

Mary’s cheeks burned red when he changed the subject. Fuck, she’d done exactly what she didn’t want to do. She just shook her head when he’d asked about Natalie, “I haven’t talked to any one since graduation.” Mary wondered if her baby sister understood that she’d left and was probably never going to come back. As soon as the gang went their separate ways after summer, Mary would drop them off wherever they needed then she was going to set off for her own life. Whatever that was. She didn’t think she could face her mom again, not after her mother stole her money and ruined Mary’s real chance at moving out and starting a new, clean slate.

“I miss her too.” Mary said quietly, picking at loose threads on the edge of her shorts as she sat with her legs crossed. She felt shitty when Sawyer called his mom all the time but Mary never said a word to her own. It made her feel guilty, but part of her wanted her mom to realize Mary was growing up. She couldn’t be at her mom’s beck and call forever now. Maybe one day she’d go back and visit– hopefully the gang would need to go back for something soon, seeing as she forgot her licence when she was in a rush to leave. 

Sawyer stopped plucking at the guitar, listening to Mary seriously as she spoke. He knew that things were tough for her at home—hell, things were tough for pretty much all of them at home, which was why they had been so eager and willing to go on this trip across the country—and he certainly didn’t want to pry into something she didn’t want to talk about, but Sawyer also knew that they were at a point in their friendship where he was allowed to ask these kinds of questions. She knew that he only did it because he wanted to help, because he wanted to make sure she was okay. Of course, he was being nosy, but Sawyer figured that was part of what made him so endearing. 

“Maybe you should write her a letter. That way, you wouldn’t have to talk to your mom if you didn’t want to.” Ever-observant and incisive, Sawyer could figure out why Mary was so hesitant to call back home. He knew that she didn’t want to be around her mom, and that was a big part of the reason why she had agreed to this crazy idea in the first place. Maybe this made him a bad person, but he was kind of glad she had something to run from—he couldn’t imagine being on this big trip without her. The two of them had been best friends all through high school, and that had been curative for a grieving Sawyer. Now, he wanted to chase a brighter future with her, too. 

[xsawycrs]

@wesleyhearst​ reacted for a starter!!

Sawyer made a point to explore every new place that he went to, and that was how he had found the speakeasy underneath the old West themed saloon in the middle of town, and immediately knew he had to bring Wesley along. Wesley and Sawyer had bonded over being outcasts, over feeling out of place and feeling like they were never going to truly find somewhere they belonged, that everyone would always hate them for who they were. Sawyer, at least, had felt that way, and meeting Wesley had made him feel less alone, and for Sawyer, who had been lonely for so long, it meant everything.

Which was why, when he found a gay, cowboy-themed speakeasy downtown, he managed to get his hands on a couple of stetsons and dragged Wesley down there, taking a chance on the password he’d overheard someone else say to the doorman before they made their way inside, a grin instantly lighting up Sawyer’s features. Sawyer figured that little nooks and crannies of the world like that could be categorized into either wacky or wonderful, and this basement saloon somehow managed to be both. “I can’t fucking believe this shit is in Canton, Illinois.” 

[xsawycrs]

@ofwendys​ reacted for a starter!!

Sawyer had found a spot right near the edge of town that was perfect for stargazing—and for Wendy and himself, arguably the most neurotic and anxious of their little group, Sawyer figured that it would be nice to take a moment away from everything. It was even on the opposite end of town from the asylum—which, granted, wasn’t that far, but Sawyer hoped it was far enough. After he got off the phone with his mother, he knocked quietly at the door to the motel room, where half the group had their turn in the beds, calling Wendy’s name quietly through the door. 

It only took a twenty minute walk to make it up there, and when they got to the top of the hill, Sawyer couldn’t help but grin at the sprawling view of the fields of wheat below, mid-harvest, lit by the brightness of a nearly-full moon. “See? I told you it was worth it,” he said, stripping off the light jacket he had been wearing and spreading it across the grass before sitting on one side of it. This was part of the reason why he had been so eager to leave Coolsville—the world was wide and wonderful and he wanted to see all of it. 

[xsawycrs]

@bcatnikmal​ reacted for a starter!!

Sawyer was very good at the memorization side of science. He could probably name everything on the periodic table off the top of his head, and he had always killed the ornithology test every year at the science decathlon. Hands-on stuff, however, was an entirely different story, and Sawyer was pretty much only there to hand Mal their tools while they did all of the work. In their science club, it had just been the two of them and a weird French exchange student who, they were fairly sure, was constantly just eating his own boogers sitting in the corner. Mal and Sawyer had grown close over years of attending science olympiad competitions together, and even now, Sawyer was always there to hand them their tools. 

He was chewing gum, pushing his glasses up his nose as he dropped down next to Mal on the bed in the motel room, handing them the phillips-head screwdriver that it had taken him ages to find. “Please tell me you’re coming up with something that’s going to make that asylum less scary. Because, trust me—it’s really, really scary,” Sawyer said, wrinkling his nose as he squinted at what Mal was working on. Sawyer couldn’t even tell which was was up, which was probably a sign that it was a good decision for him to not take on any more responsibility than being Mal’s assistant.

[xsawycrs]

@marcofind​ reacted for a starter!! 

Sawyer was sprawled out in the back of the Mystery Machine, leaning against Marco with his book open in front of him—and, despite his glasses, he still held it about two inches away from his nose—chewing on a long piece of licorice hanging from the corner of his lips. Marco and Sawyer had never talked about their pasts, and they didn’t have to—Sawyer knew that when the time was right, Marco would say what he needed to say, why he had come on this ridiculous road trip, and Sawyer would be there to listen when he did. 

So, instead, Sawyer did what he did best—his mother had taught him all of this—and he spent time just being with Marco. Usually, making sure that he was getting fed, which was definitely something that his mother did. Some young men feared that they were slowly turning into their fathers; Sawyer was fairly certain he was turning more and more into Esther every day. “Do you want to hear the latest song Max and I came up with?” As if in response, the dog—nestled halfway between Sawyer and Marco—thumped his tail against Marco’s leg. “I have to warn you...I think we have a hit on our hands.” 

[xsawycrs]

samosets‌:

Sam shook his head, rolling his eyes jokingly. He remembered how baffled he’d been when Mary and Sawyer had taught him about ‘pinky promises,’ but he obliged, linking his pinky with Sawyer’s. Sam laughed, walking ahead past the tree line as Sawyer got the goods. “Take your time,” he called back, teasing.

Sawyer lifted their hands so that he could kiss his own thumb, sealing the pinky promise like he used to with his mom before dropping Sam’s hand to go rummaging around in his rucksack in the back of the van. “Hey, don’t leave me!” Sawyer called after him, taking the cigarette case he hid his joints in and slipping it into his pocket before shoving the back doors of the van closed. Sawyer jogged up to join Sam before taking out the cigarette case and putting a joint between his lips to spark up. “You wanna hear about the latest philosopher I’ve been reading?” he asked, taking a deep drag before passing the joint to Sam. It was Sawyer’s favorite topic when he was high—he could wax poetic for hours.

[xsawycrs]

marygilinskys‌:

Mary didn’t have a great experience of her own with her biological father. He’d left her and her mom at the trailer park back in Coolsville with little to no money right after Mary was born. Whenever the bills came, Mary would always hear her mom on the phone cursing at her father about not supporting his family. Mary often wondered if it was her fault– if he only left her mom because she was born. Sometimes Mary thought her mom would be better off it Mary had never been born, she seemed awful happy now with her new husband and daughter anyway. Since the trip started, Mary hadn’t even called her family once.

As they got closer in high school, Mary could’ve sworn she thought Sawyer liked her back. Especially when they agreed to go to prom together. When she couldn’t go to prom because she had to babysit, Mary was devastated and worried that Sawyer would hate her for cancelling so last minute. But when he agreed to meet her later that night in their prom attire, she knew he was different. He’d forgiven her when most people at their school probably wouldn’t have. Ever since that night, Mary wanted to tell him how she felt– but then the trip started and she got nervous once they were both around the gang so much. She didn’t want it to be weird between anyone. “Well, I was thinking it so I said it… You know me, nothing just stays in my head for too long.” She spoke quietly, bringing her knees to her chest.

After it became just Sawyer and his mother, while their family had been cut in half, they became that much closer. Sawyer’s best friend in the world was his mother, which might have been dorky coming from anyone else, but it made sense for Sawyer. When he had come to Coolsville, his heart had been so broken that he thought it would never get put back together. His mother was even worse. The two of them had needed each other desperately to get through the worst time in their lives, and they had relied on each other—something that could have driven them apart only pulled them closer together, and for that, Sawyer was endlessly grateful. 

And then Sawyer met Mary, and that had changed everything for him. He was so used to moving from place to place he’d never really made friends, instead spending most of his time off on his own reading on his own and trying to get through school with minimal exposure. Then, he came to Coolsville, and it was like there was a reason to enjoy his time at school, a reason to enjoy just being a teenager. He slowly let go of some of the pain and sorrow that had racked him so young. Sawyer didn’t say anything for a moment, just going back to plucking lightly at the guitar again. “You talked to Nat at all?” he asked, changing the conversation if only because he didn’t want to ruin the moment—he’d like to just leave things there. For now. “I miss that kid, you know.” 

[xsawycrs]

case file 001: daylight run

[xsawycrs]

marygilinskys‌:

“Uh-huh.” She crossed her arms over her chest. When they approached the stairs, Mary’s eyes widened at the pattern of hand prints. She stayed close behind Sawyer, heart beating rapidly in her chest. Max looked back at Mary, probably sensing her worry before he slowed down to trot beside her as they followed Sawyer. Mary reached down to scratch Max’s head once before they continued walking.

“That’s not funny.” Mary said very seriously, stopping on the steps as she looked at Sawyer. “Seriously, that’s not funny and you’re not doing that.” She shook her head as she finished coming up the steps. “Let them eat me, they’ll probably spit me out. I’m full of hot dogs, Kwame and I made a little breakfast trip.” Mary was repulsed by the sight of pancakes and eggs lately, and hot dogs were more her breakfast speed anyway.

Mary watched him mess with the door, “Be careful–” she whispered just as he prepped to shove at the door suddenly. She clicked her flashlight on, stepping inside carefully as she shined the light around the main entry way of the asylum. Mary waved away the dust that blew in front of her face after everything was rocked by the swinging of the door. “Alright.. what’s next?” She swallowed thickly, looking back at him and Max wandering around.

“Come on, it’ll be fun. It’s going to be fine. What’s the worst that can happen?” Sawyer paused. “Actually, don’t answer that. The worst won’t happen.” He shone the light up and down the large front room, an aged sign reading CAHOKIA hanging over the remnants of the reception desk, now covered in dust and picked clean of anything that may have once been useful. He walked up to the desk and shone the light behind it, pushing his glasses up his nose until he found an eaten-away brochure under a thick layer of dust. 

He blew it clean, coughing as he inhaled some of the dust. Tucking the flashlight between his cheek and his shoulder, he unfolded the brochure in his hands and found the small map that would apparently lead through the asylum. “I guess this is a good place to start,” he said, pointing down one of the hallways. “That’s going to take us back to the offices and common rooms. Then we can work our way up.” 

Sawyer looked back at Mary, dropping his flashlight from his shoulder and just barely catching it in one hand. “Come on. Stick close to me,” he said, as if he would be much better at fighting off some ghost or serial killer. At least they could pretend that there was some safety in numbers here—though, Sawyer was much less of the creeped out type and much more of the let’s see if we can piss the ghost off type. 

[xsawycrs]

marygilinskys‌:

Over the course of their friendship, Mary pretty much unloaded most of her past to Sawyer with small details at a time. There was no one she could talk to about them, and Mary hated keeping everything so internalized. The night she found out her mom and step-dad stole her tip money, Mary ran to Sawyer and cried to him almost all night about how she was never leaving Coolsville now. When he came up with this road trip idea, Mary swore that he saved her. She didn’t know how she could ever repay him for that. At the beginning, Mary thought he was just taking pity on her not being able to move out… she wasn’t the best driver he could’ve gotten. But now, Mary really felt the value of their relationship.

“Oh.” Mary blinked quickly, lips pursing together out of surprise. She saw his cheeks grow red, and Mary looked down at her hands folded in her lap while he strummed at the guitar. Mary had too many encounters where boys were just being nice, and that she shouldn’t read too far into it. She really didn’t want to do that with Sawyer, no matter how big her little school crush had gotten– she didn’t want to mess it all up. “It’s Plan B.” Mary nodded. “Thank you.” she spoke to fill the sudden silence, “For telling me I’m pretty. I… I think you’re pretty too.”

Sawyer had learned to be the kind of person who kept things tightly buttoned down. Even to this day, he hadn’t told Mary the extent of the problems with his father—and frankly, the only reason he talked about his brother with her was because there were pictures of the two of them up all over the house. Sawyer was taught that if he talked too much, if he felt too much, then that was worthy of punishment, and while Mary knew that Sawyer’s father was somewhere out there and that Sawyer had no intention of contacting him, Sawyer still couldn’t bring himself to say what he didn’t want to remember. Maybe there was no need to—but Mary had always said how much better it was to let things out than to keep them bottled up. Slowly, Sawyer was learning how to do that, but strides were only made a little at a time. 

He caught the expression on Mary’s features and couldn’t help but smile to himself, wondering if she thought about him as much as he thought about her. He thought about Mary often, when he was daydreaming in the back of the mystery machine or when he was reading over a history book to research their next case—he’d find his mind drifting off to memories of warm summer afternoons in Coolsville, spent on the edge of the lagoon with Mary. “What’s Plan A?” he asked, a brow raising inquisitively. At her compliment, Sawyer ducked his head and blushed again. “You don’t have to say that,” he said, assuming she had only complimented him because he had complimented her first. 

[xsawycrs]

bcatnikmal‌:

Mal was very tempted to protest that they’d honestly prefer that strong weed scent to whatever Sawyer had cooking on his mini-stove, “Tell me if I’m wrong, but I don’t want animals rummaging any closer to us and I feel like this is a dead giveaway.At least clean it before using it next time?” Their eyes poked out the window, hoping not to see another pair of eyes staring back at them.

“I feel like the bigger problem here is ghosts, and obviously, ghosts can’t smell things,” Sawyer said, completely talking out of his ass as he looked back up at the asylum. As spooky as things could get with the mystery gang, Sawyer was always the kind of person to go and poke the bear rather than shy away from scary things.