bobby hugh!

Sugar wasn't a fan of the hysteria takin' to Misty Mountain these days. Everybody was freaked out, Mamas lockin' their young ones inside at the first sign of dusk, and God-- everybody thought they were a goddamn detective. She never signed up to live in no Sherlock Holmes fantasyland, and she reckoned if that's what folks wanted, they oughta go over to England.

The last thing Sugar was gonna do was let any of it impact her plans, which included runnin' the Pascal Apothecary booth at the Honeycutt Farmer's Market every fourth Sunday. Mamaw always preferred to do it herself on account a' the business she conducted with a couple folks in town, but Sugar had all but taken over this year. It made her feel mighty important, and it was nice to see a fresh batch a' faces once a month.

Except... maybe they weren't all fresh faces today. "Hey!" Sugar pumped her arm in a wave, takin' her bare feet off the tabletop and standing to her feet. She put a hand up to shield her eyes from the sun, other hand on her hip. "Whaddaya doin' so far from home?" Her eyes flicked down her neighbor's frame inquisitively, "Runnin' away from somethin'?" Sugar asked, dropping her voice with a mischievous glint in her eye.

Bobby Hugh instead made his way...elsewhere. Elsewhere just happened to be at Sugar's booth. 'Walking my mom!" He answered. That was not the way to say that. He shook his head. "I mean...taking my mom for a walk." He changed it.

He was running away from dealing with his mother's mood swings. He didn't really expect to end up face to face with Sugar. "Can you distract me? Try to sell me something...or something. I want my brain to turn off for a while."

WHERE: OUTSIDE wynn-pixie's

WHAT: baby's first stalker????

Lou had seen Bobby Hugh a couple of times when he stopped in at the museum, but she hadn't ever really...talked to him. When groups expanded to three or more, she tended to let others do the talking until she felt she knew enough to have the high ground. That hadn't happened with Bobby Hugh and Rosie yet. Usually, on his visits. Lou made herself busy and inspected everything in the museum for the billionth time.

But since coming back from her bender in Honeycutt, Lou had a change of heart. So, she'd started asking around about Bobby Hugh. Some folks were quick to tell her to leave that nice young man alone with whatever yur fixin ta get into now! But others let enough slip out that she had vague enough scraps to assemble a childhood much like her own, ostracized and othered from their classmates. There were even a few residents who were eager to gossip about his Mom to Lou, who'd never found that kind of talk useful. Simultaneously, she wondered how fucked up she had to have been to miss that piece of information when it was happening. In all her research, she found herself growing attached to Bobby Hugh. Like, almost protective? It was really odd, but nonetheless she found herself approaching his VHS swap outside Wynn-Pixie's. Lou rolled up casually, sunglasses down, cigarette burning between her fingers, and grocery bag swinging from her arm. Without any introduction, she set the bag down and pulled out a VHS, "You ever watch Spike Lee, movie boy?" Lou asked, fully revealing the cover of She's Gotta Have it. Then, she pulled out a cassette with sloppy lettering scrawled on it -- Anti Assimilation Music.

He'd had an okay day. Three Men and A Baby. Trading Places. E.T. and Gremlins. He'd gotten a few rentals situated and even some full sales. (let it be known that Bobby Hugh HATES E.T. and he couldn't be happier to have sold it to an old man wearing socks and sandals in winter weather). As he was counting his cash, A VHS and cassette tape hit his table. He looked up at the delivery girl with wide eyes.

Lou. Lou Stafford?

"Oh um...thanks? I've heard of him! Hard to get your hands on these kinds of movies up here...and I don't really leave Misty....like ever." He said, timid but excited. He looked at the mixtape quizzically. "Did you make this for me?" He asked. "You do know who I am right? Bobby Hugh Belleto. People don't do this kinda thing for me. At least not...people who I've never talked to. Not that I didn't want to talk to you. I feel like we see each other! Well...I've seen you! Not so much lately! But I did see your sis at the funeral. Good people" He rambled.

a closed starter for @bobbyhughx

where: the museum, sometime before baylor's funeral

Christmas Eve had been a shitshow.

Rosie'd gone into the night full of confidence, sure that all of the preparation she and Bobby Hugh had done would yield results. Instead, they'd gotten kicked out purely because the receptionist was lacking in holiday cheer. And maybe also because they'd been mistaken for troublemakers, which they most certainly were not.

Somehow the night had only gone downhill from there. They'd improvised, overcome roadblocks, and yet they'd left the hospital emptyhanded. And Baylor... well.

It had been bothering her, the fact that she couldn't remember the most important part of that night. Rosie could see the evening so clearly in her mind, her brain easily supplying details as small as the numbers on the rooms she'd ruled out, her notebook full of faked scribbles. Yet when it came to anything after she caught a glimpse of Baylor at the hospital, her mind went blank.

What happened to Baylor Dawson?

Rosie and Bobby Hugh were still looking into things that afternoon, the museum their top meeting spot for discussions about all things spooky and scary. They hadn't yet discussed the Christmas Eve Disaster, but as a quiet moment stretched into two, and then two to three, Rosie knew it was time to speak up.

"I'm sorry it didn't work out at the hospital," she started, finally. "For what it's worth, I thought your Italian accent was dead on."

He didn't do enough.

That thought was pierced almost immediately by Rosie's voice...cutting through his downward spiral. She had to be joking right? Bobby Hugh's Italian accent was a hail mary in an attempt to save a failure of a night. At least in his eyes. He smirked at her. "That's how Grandpa Hugh spoke. Well...kinda." He said still looking down at his notebook. He doodled some detailed stick figures of himself and rosie at the hospital. His notebook fluttered between gibberish and doodles. It was just the way Bobby saw the world.

He finally looked up to meet her eyes. "I'm sorry us boneheads couldn't pull it together in time for you to get your interview. I feel like we have more questions than answers now."

He pondered for a moment. "Something weird went down at the Cemetery right? Are you close with anybody from that group?"

Somehow, despite the fact that she was the one to approach in the first place, Mabel's left standing looking like a deer in headlights, eyes flitting from Bobby Hugh to the statue on the wall, back and forth, back and forth. She lets the silence lie for an almost uncomfortable amount of time, and just when it seems she's going to ignore him entirely, there's a half-hearted shrug of her shoulders. "Dunno."

"Oh...that's an understatement if I've ever heard one." Bobby Hugh agreed. He didn't know what he expected from her. Some people experienced tragedy and turned to something like religion. Bobby Hugh tried...but it didn't last very long. He eyed the statue a little bit longer. "But I read that the Greeks liked their gods a little fucked up. Funny that we're so...stuck up about our big man." He pondered, tilting his head to the side as he admired the great i am's washboard abs.

He shoved his hands into his pockets and bounced from the tip of his feet to his heels.

She hadn’t expected to see Bobby Hugh behind the counter. The sight of him, bent over salt and pepper shakers like the very act could somehow hold the universe together. It was almost laughable, the way time passed. Here they were, strangers in every sense except for the faint imprint of a shared childhood.

“Didn’t mean to interrupt,” she said. “It’s quiet in here," she glanced over her shoulder at the mostly empty booths, fingers drumming lightly on the counter. “Figured this place would be packed during festival week.”

Abilene had no sense of what it meant to work a job. She had babysat for families around town, picked up camp counselor shifts at bible camp, but never did she know what it meant to work for longer than a few hours at a time. "I thought those would have been like, pre packaged," she motioned towards the salt and pepper shakers.

Bobby Hugh shook his head from side to side, still focused on filling his shakers. "People used to...what's the phrase? Pre-game here? Festival prices can be a little outrageous some years. Eat Tastee's for dinner. Eat desserts at Flurry Fest. There were quite a few families here a few hours ago...but now." He sucks his teeth. "I think tourists are less keen on us these days. Can't imagine why." He spoke, looking up at Abilene as he did.

A change in management. A public abandonment of the previous owner while her health declined. These things changed the culture of the business. Bobby Hugh still believed in Tastee's...but it wasn't the diner it used to be. "The new boss likes these new "stylistic" shakers." He explained, gesturing to the red detailing on them. "Plus...it's cheaper to buy salt and pepper in bulk. Just means suckers like me have to refill these every few weeks." He explained with a subtle eyebrow raise.

"You sure you don't wanna eat? Or drink? I can get you a boozy shake if you need it." He suggested with a warm smile, and subtle whisper. He knew it'd been a hard time for the denizens of Misty Mountain. Abilene always looked put together...but Bobby Hugh didn't like reading books by their covers.

"Yeah, I get that," Buck said, nodding toward the empty tip jar and the Superman sketch. "Sometimes it’s like that—sometimes people just ain't ready for something different, ya know?" He rocked back on his heels a little, watching Bobby Hugh with a steady, considering gaze. "But hey, it only takes one person to really get it. I mean, that Superman's got some serious..." he coughed, "muscle. I'm sure there's someone out there who'd dig that."

He ran a hand through his hair and glanced around, taking in the festival with a little more focus now. "As for me... yeah, this ain't exactly the Flurry Fest I remember. Feels a little off, don’t it? The whole town's just... on edge. With Baylor and all." He trailed off, his voice quieter now. It wasn’t like he wanted to get into it—hell, there were some things he didn’t even want to think about. But there was a heaviness in the air, a weight everyone was carrying. Maybe Bobby Hugh felt it too.

Buck turned his attention back to the booth, gesturing to the art again. "But I ain’t here to talk about all that. You need a hand with this booth, or you good on your own?" He shifted his weight, taking a step closer, his voice lighter again. "Could always use a distraction. Maybe I’ll see if I can’t scare up a sale for you."

If Bobby Hugh's face could flush any more visibly, he'd be mistaken for a beet. He gave a grimaced nod as Buck complimented his art. Why did he feel like this? Like he had to apologize for being himself. Why couldn't he be loud and proud about his strengths and his flaws like Major was. Because Buck was right...there was someone out there who would get Bobby Hugh's art.

Baylor was the elephant in the room. One of quite a few elephants actually. The room was getting a little zoo-like at this point. "I'm glad he's alive." Bobby Hugh blurted, thumbing his sketch pencil anxiously. He didn't really like Baylor...but he was sure Buck had a different dynamic with the fellow. One death was a horrible accident. Two was a coincidence. If they lost Baylor, they'd have a pattern of death on their hands. Nobody wanted that.

Then the next question came up. Bobby Hugh's eyes got big. He eyed the lawn chair at his side...the one that was previously reserved for Rosie. Then he looked back at Buck. "I mean...if you're not busy. The company would be nice." He said proudly. Maybe good things could actually happen to a boy named Bobby Hugh.

"Busts are $10. Full body pieces are $15. And a live caricature is $25." He gestured at his blank art pad. His eyes lit up with an idea as he spoke.

"Maybe I could draw you? If people see Buck Whitaker getting drawn...maybe we could get a line for caricatures goin'?" Bobby Hugh suggested. It's not like it would be hard. At this point Bobby Hugh could draw Buck with his eyes closed.

Well, howdy, Misty Mountaineers! Long time, no see, what with Tilly takin' up all your attention lately! Now, I know the time for Christmas Cheer is almost over with, but I figured you might like to show me some of that good 'ol winter spirit before we ring in the New Year... Reblog this to participate, make sure to send some asks out to your fellow players - oh, if you're hankering for extra brownie points? Well, me and Cherie wouldn't say no to a little gift or two!

🎁: for a Christmas gift from my muse !

🎅: for a secret santa gift from my muse !

✒️: for a holiday themed note from my muse !

📺: for a christmas confession !

🥂: what's the drunkest you've ever been on christmas !

🎄: what is a holiday tradition your muse celebrates !

🍪: for a holiday treat from my muse !

🍽️: what is your muse bringing for christmas dinner ?

🌟: do you have any new years resolutions ?

❄️: do you like the holidays better with or without my muse ?

⛄: what's one of your favorite holiday memories with my muse ?

🎀: what's one of your favorite christmas memories ?

⚡: what's one of your worst christmas memories ?

💋: would you kiss my muse on new years ?

🛷: what's the furthest you've ever travelled for the holidays ?

🔥: roast chestnuts, or roast my muse !

"But what if he's really wantin' to see people? Baylor's the sociable type!" Rosie argued, animated, no hesitation between Bobby Hugh's protestations.

Ever since he'd wandered into the museum (and then even further, into the archives), he'd been like a little angel on her shoulder, keeping her from going too far. And she was thankful. She couldn't keep isolating people like she was, asking questions that had both current and former friends avoiding her in the streets. She was trying to keep their investigations low profile, but without Bobby Hugh it was unlikely she'd have gotten very far - her determination could blind her to how she was coming across. As unlikely as their friendship had been at first, he'd turned out to be a good balance to her, a calming figure amidst the chaos unraveling in Misty Mountain.

And deep down, Rosie knew he had the right idea - it sure wasn't ideal, trying to interrogate Baylor when he was knocking on death's door. But what if there had been someone there to talk to Bobby Hugh's mama after she came back from the woods? To decipher the tongues she was apparently speaking in? Baylor loved to keep up appearances. To his last breath, she was sure he'd do anything to avoid being seen as crazy, but wouldn't it be so freeing for him to have someone who believed him? Who was specifically asking about things that would be unbelievable to most, so he knew it was safe to talk?

Scooting her lawn chair closer to her partner in crime, she made sure to speak somehow even quieter than before, doing everything she could to ensure that their conversation could remain private even with so many Mountaineers hanging around, browsing through the craft tables.

"In case somethin' happens to him, if he loses the progress he's hopefully made, I'm sure he'd want people to know what he saw." She doubted that very much. "And I think the questions we'd be left with would answer other questions. If he saw somethin', if he felt funny or if he just fell asleep with no warnin'."

It was only then, after she'd said her piece and polished off the last of her cookie, that Rosie appeared to be mulling over the alternative Bobby Hugh had presented. Less of a chance for answers, maybe, but way more morally sound.

Bobby wanted the words coming out of Rosie's mouth to make less sense than they were making. Baylor was the social type. Baylor was all about appearances. But he still didn't want to overwhelm the guy. Bobby Hugh was a bit of an overwhelmer. A lightbulb flashed over his head finally and he grabbed Rosie's hand in his exictement.

"This is the part of the movie where the dynamic duo splits up!" He whisper-yelled, excitement dripping off his vocal chords. "Baylor will totally be woo'd by pretty young thing like you! He won't even realize he's giving you all the information we need. He'll leave the conversation floatier than that French Looney Tunes skunk!" Bobby Hugh mused, getting more excited.

"Meanwhile I'll home deliver some Tastee's to Baylor's parents and really butter them up. Let them dump all their trauma...and hopefully a little wine on me. Then we meet back up and cross reference the data we find!" Bobby suggested, finally releasing Rosie's hand. "I mean...I think they'd like me enough. I can really bond with middle-aged folk. I musta been one of them in my past life."

He shrinks a little bit. "Or we can just interview Baylor together...you're the brains of this operation after all!"

Liliana zones out about two sentences into Bobby Hugh’s rambling. It’s remarkable, really, how someone can fill so much space with so little substance, she thinks. Her gaze slips past his shoulder, lazily tracking a couple haggling over a too-small wreath, and she absently wonders how much quieter the world would be if Bobby Hugh simply ceased to exist for, say, five minutes.

She glances back at him, still yapping about bootleg movies and birthdays, and has to suppress a sigh. God, if only she could shove a hair scrunchie in his mouth and be done with it. A pastel one, for maximum insult. Her lips twitch at the thought — if they were some ancient Amazonian tribe, she'd have sewn his mouth shut by now. Shrink his head, dangle it from a belt. Bobby Hugh, the Relentless. A cautionary tale for others who dared to yap away.

His heart sank upon Liliana's rejection of the instant classic Hairspray (1988). Editor's note: Herman has discovered through this specific thread that Hairspray (1988) is NOT a musical. It inspired the broadway musical which then inspired the newer 2007 movie-musical. Herman's Hairspray knowledge up to this point was limited to the made-for-tv production that Ariana Grande was in.

"Liliana...you didn't like hairspray??? You're just like the kids who get to dance on the Corny Collins show. All rich and pretty and well-dressed. I would have to dance on "Negro Day" if I were in the movie. And probably do a lot of other lame stuff too. It was the 60's after all.'' He groaned, letting out a sad sigh. "Do you have a favorite movie? We don't have to watch something you don't like."

But Buck was no nosy church lady. He was worse. He was hot and lightly conversational. Bobby Hugh's absolute kryptonite. He scratched the back of his neck casually as he came up with an answer to Buck's very reasonable question. "Uh...not really." He decided to admit. "To be fair this is probably the wrong crowd." He decided.

"There was a kid who I've seen at the comic shop once! He wanted to buy the Superman piece...and his mom took one look at it and said no." Bobby Hugh said, defeat radiating off of his voice. Did Uncle Rich put him up to this booth to embarrass him? To prove that he was right and Bobby Hugh's art was too niche? To scare him straight? It was looking likely. "How are you? This ain't exactly a typical Flurry Fest, right?" He asked. Buck was the jock type...he probably had a relationship with Coach Adkins and Baylor...maybe even Siberee. Bobby Hugh wanted to offer his support...or condolences...or simply hear him say a few words that had nothing to do with his underselling fanart.