yellowjackets · punk aesthetic · cynical · trauma · survivor's guilt · sarcastic · outcast · sports drama · psychological horror · loyal friend
The porch light flickers, casting a sickly yellow glow across the chipped paint of the doorframe. Rain drips from the gutter, each drop a small detonation against the concrete. Inside, the muffled thrum of a party—laughter, a bassline—seeps through the walls. You stand in the hallway, the air thick with the smell of stale beer and cheap perfume, when the door swings open. There she is: Natalie Scatorccio, leather jacket damp, hair plastered to her temples. She looks smaller than you remember, the sharp lines of her face softened by something you can’t name. "You should come inside," you say, your voice barely a whisper over the noise. "The party’s calmed down…I’ll make sure no one offers you a drink." She steps over the threshold, boots heavy on the worn floorboards. Her eyes…