Bo And Lester Ghost Hunting. Vincent Is The Camera Man

the shape

I made this, I'm tired but it's beautiful. He's a little evil man but I love him

watched the lost boys 1987

Reblogs are appreciated but do not repost

bo sinclair i could treat you right

“let me get that for you” i say sexily pulling on a door that says push

“I’m Here for You, Doll.” || tlb David x Reader

A/N: Hey guys. Depending on how well this does and everyone’s opinion on it i’ll most likely make a part two. Also, if you like this feel free to make send me a request. I’ll right for pretty much any slasher. Enjoy!

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There it was again. That feeling. The feeling of someone watching you. Watching your every move.

The feeling had plagued you for the past couple weeks. Walking home and around town became an anxiety inducing task. The fear of someone lurking, ready to nab you at any moment lurking in the back of your mind. But the feeling wasn’t nearly as potent as it was when on the board walk. You had moved to Santa Carla about two months prior, ready to start your life. You found a job at the diner on the boardwalk that paid extremely well and cheap apartment that was fairly nice. You enjoyed life and has little cares— until a couple weeks ago.

They came in while you were working the evening shift, hooting and hollering as they sat in one of your booths.

“Evening, what can i get you guys?”

You had approached the table without really even giving the group a once over. Look up from your note pad you finally took the time to take the men in. Black leather. And a lot of it graced your vision. Three blondes and a brunette. Oh shit. This was the biker gang your coworkers had been telling you about.

Shaking yourself from your thoughts you direct your attention back to your job as you waited for their reply, but nothing came. Instead, they ignored you. Giving you a sideways glance before heading back to their conversation.

Huh. Okay then.

“I’ll give y’all a minute then,” you deadpanned as you turned around to head behind the counter. You had better things to do with your time then dote on a bunch of pricks. Grabbing a rag you began to wipe the counter off, filling up the time. You watched as you hand made circular motions against the linoleum top, occasionally scrubbing at a stain left by a mess child. Then you felt it. Turning to face the group of men again you met the owner of the piercing stare. He was blonde. And not a natural blonde either. Bleach blonde. Not only that he had a short mullet and wore what looked to be multiple heavy coats on top of each other, along with leather gloves. His state was ice cold, making you wonder if they had been trying to get your attention and were becoming impatient. The strange thing was, he was the only one staring.

Setting the rag down you made your way from behind the counter and back to their booth while shooting the blonde an apologetic smile, hoping you hadn’t made him wait too long.

“I’m sorry about that, are you guys ready to order?”

Even with your apology and your inquiry to their needs, his glare didn’t diminish.

“Nah babes, we’re good. Just gonna sit here for a while okay,” replied a different blonde that looked strangely like a copycat of Dee Snider.

“I’m so sorry but you can’t just sit here without ordering. So either get a water or something, otherwise you’ll have to leave,” you replied in your best customer service voice.

“Look we said we didn’t want anything to leave, k?”

What the fuck, is he deaf? You head been here since 5 this evening and it was now approaching midnight, closing time, and you’d be damned if some stuck up kids were gonna keep you from going home.

“I said get out if you’re not getting anything. You deaf or something?” All politeness was gone from your voice as you spoke. The group then turned to you with a look of shock on their face. But that expression didn’t last long as they began to laugh at you.

After giggling like a group of little girls for a good 3 minutes, they picked theirselves up and left, all while that blonde still stared at you.

That had been two weeks ago. And your intuition told you that group was the reason for the constant feeling of being watched. Maybe you should have just gotten your boss to kick them out instead. If you had done that, maybe you wouldn’t be looking over your shoulder every few seconds while your hands griped your keys right i between the spaces of your fingers.

• • •

Your eyes scanned your surroundings as you made your way for the door of the dinner. It was supposed to be your night off, but your coworker need someone to come in and cover the last few hours of their shift and you were the only willing to take it. You push the door as you walk in, watching as your feet carry you across the checkered floor into the back.

Clocking in and grabbing your apron, you swing the door open walking out into the dinning area. Grabbing your pen and paper, you begin to walk to behind the counter as you hear the chime of the front door.

“Evening! Have seat where you’d like and i’ll be with you in a min-“

Turing around, your greeting to the new customer is cut short. It’s him. The guy whose state has been haunting you for the past two weeks.

A smirk graced his features as he relished in the unease that was undoubtedly shown on your face. Without breaking his stare, he made his way to a corner booth in the back of the dinner.

Your mind was racing a mile a minute. Why was he back here? What does he want?

You swallowed your nerves and made your way to his booth.

“What can I get for you?”

“Water, unless you’re gonna kick me out again,” he smirked.

“Did you come here for a water or to be another rude customer?”

“Neither actually.”

What? Then why the fuck is he here?

Your brows furrowed in confusion as you contemplated his response.

“Then why are you here?”

“I’m here for you, doll.”

I forgot I made this 💀

⛓️ The Slashstreet Boys. 🔪

Straight men will not be liberated until they start eating unshaved pussy and licking unshaved armpit. Straight women will not be liberated until they start spitting in their man's mouth

eddie would say "this guy's bothering you babe?" every time you accidentally bump into something.

you're just walking around the trailer, taking back your plate to the kitchen when you hit your leg against the table, "ow you son of a bitch!" you'd yell out and eddie comes running from his room. his guitar tossed on the bed and music sheet has flown off his lap and got scattered all across the floor.

"what happened? you okay?" he'd ask then he'd see that the table has moved a bit since he last saw it about thirty minutes ago. "this guy's bothering you, sweetheart?" he'd walk towards the table and stare it down, "do i need to teach you a lesson here? hm? teach you not to hit on girls? and my girl nonetheless." his hands in fists, he'd buff out his chest, acting all tough and scary but it only makes him look adorable like a mad puppy.

"actually eds, technically i hit it." you'd tell him and he'd turn to you.

"babe you don't have to do this. don't defend this asshole just so i wouldn't hurt him." glaring at the table again, "come on bitch! not so brave now huh?"

then he'd act as if he's throwing hands with the table only for him to hit his foot against its leg, hard, and end up on the floor in the fatal position holding his foot in both hands and go "the soldier has fallen. i've been defeated by the evil forces of wooden home furniture. pass my kind regards and sorrow to the queen. long live rock and roll." then in true eddie fashion, he'd pretend to be dead with his tongue out and his middle finger pointed to his new immortal enemy, the table.