brntout
𝐢 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝒘𝒉𝒐 𝐢 𝐀𝐌 !
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Latest Posts by brntout
LOCATION : redstone bar
STATUS : open to everyone!
NIGHTS AT REDSTONE were rarely dull and tonight was no exception. with a good hour still left before closing, joey has already had to throw a handful of people out. everyone was on edge. the news of kirby's death seemed to have lit a fire under the town, sparking a desperate need to escape the so-called ‘deadcreek curse’ that has fallen on them again. was it grief the town was feeling? fear? whatever it was, it was making everyone act like idiots—and it was starting to piss joey off.
“i need a shot.” she announces, pushing herself off the counter and turning towards a stack of freshly cleaned glasses. she picks one up, pauses, then glances over at the figure on the other side of the bar. "you gonna be a prick and make me take it by myself?"
"WELL SHIT ─ i don't know. let me get a good look at you." it's not the smartest move to remove her sunglasses with the hangover she was currently battling, but joey will do anything for a bit. a bloodshot and squinted gaze lands on carlos, taking a moment to analyze him before offering a slow nod. "oh yeah. you're fucked, kid. got a big ol' target on that pretty forehead of yours. you better watch yourself out there . . . would hate to be down an act." with that, she places her sunglasses over matted curls, now fixing her eyes on the lake before them. “you know what? i think you might be on to something. whoever is responsible for this has got to be a real nasty son of a bitch.” and ugly. down to their very fuckin' core. “ so . . . is this everything you hoped for when moving to this shitty little town?"
𝘄𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲. deer lake, late afternoon on the day of kirby's death. 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵. anyone! ( capping at five replies. )
〔 🐿️ 〕 ... “ 𝗱𝗮𝗺𝗻, 𝘄𝗵𝘆 𝗶𝘀 𝗶𝘁 𝗮𝗹𝘄𝗮𝘆𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗵𝗼𝘁𝘁𝗶𝗲𝘀 𝘄𝗵𝗼 𝗱𝗶𝗲? ” carlos remarks, a plume of smoke from their cigarette and the cold air escaping their lips with every word. he didn't know the girl well, if at all, really, but it's all anyone could talk about today and if he didn't bring it up, it would be a little weird. it isn't that he doesn't care — of course, the whole situation is unsettling and there's a inkling perturbation that swirls within them at the notion of a killer on the loose in such a small town, but it seems easier to pretend that this is all one big joke than have to face the reality of it. it's all he can do. “ is this guy fucking ugly or something? are they trying to reverse pretty privilege? should i have to watch out? ”
closed starter for maeve! @repentulant
DUSK SETTLES OVER THE TREES. a sight that vikram once found comforting now feels tainted, weighted with an ominous note. as if the town is holding it's breath, fearing for the news of yet another tragedy break by morning. it feels like only yesterday he had been tasked with putting alaina price back together, and now? kirby sloane’s body lies cold in the fridge of his home. still. silent. a far cry from the woman he’d spoken to on halloween. in vikram’s line of work, it’s often that he is reminded of how short life can be. how limited everyone’s time on earth is and how those left behind are almost always left yearning for the same thing . . . to be allowed more.
fingers tremble as he presses the doorbell, the sound echoing through the quiet of the evening. “hi.” he breathes out, a whisper of relief escaping him the moment the she opens the door and their eyes meet. she’s still here. they still have time. “are you busy tonight? can i . . . do you mind if i come in?”
FROM YOUTH VIKRAM HAS always had a knack for sneaking. a light step paired with a preference for skulking in the background made it easy to go unnoticed. still, it was rarely his intention to scare anyone so as he approaches mina he makes the attempt to announce his arrival with a cordial “good evening” . . . only to startle her regardless. of course she would be. there's a goddamn murderer on the loose. “oh! no, i wouldn't dream of bugging you about my computer problems outside of business hours ── sorry." he offers a faint, awkward smile. “i didn't mean to spook you. i just came to uh, look at the scenery. it's nice, isn't it?” when there isn't body being fished out of the lake, that is.
♡ 𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐃𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐘 ─── starter for anyone / open. ♡ 𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 ─── near deer lake clubhouse. ♡ 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄 ─── around sunset time.
a deep inhale and smoke fills her lungs, nothing in particular on her mind; exactly the way she likes it. she does realize it's maybe not the best idea to stand all alone, with the light of the sun going away, when there's a killer on the loose but... what else is there for her to do? stay cooped up at home while her parents attempt to poke at her psyche? oh no, she's choosing the faster way out instead.
at least that's what she thought until a sound suddenly startled her and made her look back. a hand coming to rest on her chest ─── willing her heart to calm down ─── as she zeroes in on the approaching figure. " can i help you? "
VICKY CRISTINA BARCELONA (2008)
"UH, HARD DISARGEE." kennedy is quick to refute. they always found smoking to be a nasty habit, convinced it was something only a masochist would enjoy. they tried once in college, shortly after starting their internship because they figured it would make them look and feel more grown up in the room full of journalistic big-shots. men who took their jobs and themselves WAY too seriously. smoking might not have stuck with kennedy but the underlying pretentiousness that came from it? that was still up for debate. "chicken and waffles with a side of lung infection does not sound like an appetizing combo to me." now settled in the stool, they turn their head to witness the full display of soren's theatrics, elbows propped on the bar in front of them. they observe him carefully, making no move to interrupt his performance. a respectful audience, one that makes sure to wait the customary extra beat to ensure the show is over before offering their reaction. “wow." there's a hint of a smile there, perhaps the closest they have come since the news of the recently departed – or rather – recently SNATCHED. they lean ever so slightly in his direction, nose scrunching up as if they are about to deliver some harsh news. "sounds to me like you might just have a little bit of an addiction there.”
location: dolly's diner time: late afternoon status: open!
something about diners. greasy leather seats. overheard secrets tangled up with the clatter of forks. bitter, often stale coffee -- unless you got lucky enough to walk in when the place was mostly empty. unlikely. the kind of place where time hangs heavy, like it got tired and sat down to rest in the corner booth. red creek felt the same, like it had long surrendered to time’s weight instead of running alongside it. no reinvention, no salvation -- just a stubborn place clinging to people like mud after rain, or maybe quicksand, tugging until they sank without a fight. soren didn't have to imagine dark things haunting its bones when its effect where already laying there, sprawled out for anyone willing to see. maybe ancient spirits seeking revenge after having their forever homes suffocated with asphalt and cement. maybe nothing at all, just the weight of a town folding in on itself, vanishing into a fog you didn’t know you’d entered until it was too late. soren wouldn't flinch if someone shattered the silence with a lynchian scream -- sinister close-ups, faces trembling under the pressure of things better left unsaid -- right there in the diner, right as he staed at his gone stale coffee. and perhaps it was his obsession with intricate stories that blurred the line with reality, but twin peaks really didn't feel like fiction anymore; it was a blueprint, a warning for places like this, where the mundane teetered on the edge of surreal, where time sagged, like peeling wallpaper in a room sealed off for too long, and good people stumbled into band endings. even diners -- those greasy churches of familiarity -- could warp into confessional booths. soren let his face fall into his hands, elbows propped at the sides of the cup of coffee. if it had been steaming, it would've made a perfect shot. “ you know what's bullshit, ” he spoke as soon as he felt a presence next to him finally glad to push his inner monologue onto someone else, anyone unlucky enough to hear. he continued as his hands dropped to his lap, revealing a face worn thin by restless nights. “ the fact that they made it illegal to smoke in public places. especially diners. ” though it wasn't just diners. it was also cinemas, trains, pubs.... a beat. then two fingers lifted to his lips, mimicking the pitch of a cigarette between index and thumb. soren inhaled theatrically, face tilting upward as though savoring the hit. then, just as theatrically, he ground the phantom amber into an imaginary glass ashtray, the kind with ornate edges. clock. sound design coming from his tongue against his palate and he swat the phantom ashtray away, still dipped in his interactive daydream.
CHURCHES MADE KENNEDY UNCOMFORTABLE. anything that has to do with divinity or a higher power did. her guard has been up since the moment she stepped foot into the chapel, sharp gaze set on the praying priest just a couple pews ahead of them. a stark contrast to her more doleful stepbrother beside her. "if it makes you feel any better, i doubt that was what KILLED her." the words are delivered in a deadpan tone, making it hard to decipher if that was a callous attempt at a joke or an inside thought that was not meant to see the light of day. perhaps it didn't truly matter. not when the possibility of another tragedy was beginning to feel less like a threat . . . and more like a promise. with so much to lose, how could she possibly give herself the space or even the time to mourn? “i think it's one of the newcomers or – no. maybe someone who was around for the original murders. someone old enough to remember. or maybe it's both. maybe jacob thorne has a long lost sibling that's come to town to take revenge." too many questions, not nearly enough answers. “what do alaina price, daniela estrada, and kirby sloane even have in common?” aside from being a couple of bad bitches.
🗝️ open to all. 📍 redemption chapel, jan 24th.
the news breaks, as does half of red creek alongside it. there's an unfair lump lodged in santiago's throat. he wasn't close to kirby ; her death was not his to mourn, and yet ... he sits in the back pew of redemption chapel, hands wound in his hair. it was between here & the cemetery— the weather chose for him. he breathes in, has a hard time breathing out. halloween night plays through his mind. ❝ i asked about her name. ❞ he wants to laugh at the memory, but doesn't have the heart. a puff of frustration leaves him instead, ❝ grow up in a box like red creek & i still had to ask for her name. jesus– ❞
❝ 𝚈𝙾𝚄 𝙶𝚄𝚈𝚂 𝙰𝚁𝙴 𝙹𝚄𝚂𝚃 𝙰𝚂 𝙵𝚄𝙲𝙺𝙴𝙳 𝚄𝙿 𝙰𝚂 𝙸 𝙰𝙼 , 𝚈𝙾𝚄 '𝚁𝙴 𝙹𝚄𝚂𝚃 𝙱𝙴𝚃𝚃𝙴𝚁 𝙰𝚃 𝙻𝚈𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝚃𝙾 𝚈𝙾𝚄𝚁𝚂𝙴𝙻𝚅𝙴𝚂 𝙰𝙱𝙾𝚄𝚃 𝙸𝚃 ! . . . 𝚈𝙾𝚄 '𝚁𝙴 𝙻𝙸𝚅𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝙾𝙽 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙱𝚁𝙸𝙽𝙺 𝙹𝚄𝚂𝚃 𝙻𝙸𝙺𝙴 𝙼𝙴 ! ❞
// ( natasha lyonne . cisfemale . she/her ) . ⸻ JOANNA ‘JOEY’ HARLOW, a forty four year old, has survived another day in red creek where they have lived for her whole life . THE BROKEN RECORD is known for being audacious and destructive and is often associated with cackling laughter over loud music, chipped red nail polish, a pack of camel cigarettes tucked in a back pocket, a crude sense of humor . in a small town where they work as the owner of redstone bar, word travels fast . it’s hard to keep a secret , and it looks like the boogeyman knows that [ REDACTED ]
𝚃𝙷𝚁𝙴𝙰𝙳𝚂 | 𝙼𝚄𝚂𝙸𝙽𝙶𝚂 | 𝙼𝙸𝚁𝚁𝙾𝚁 | 𝙴𝙳𝙸𝚃𝚂 | 𝙿𝙻𝙰𝚈𝙻𝙸𝚂𝚃 | 𝙿𝙸𝙽𝚃𝙴𝚁𝙴𝚂𝚃
𝐀 𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐃𝐘 𝐈𝐍: the trailer park life, sobriety chips scattered on the floor of a 1985 ford f150, making a bad situation worse, gaslighting yourself into believing you’re tougher than you really are, constant reminders of everything you've lost, looking for dopamine in the worst places.
[ Ⅰ ] . . . 𝐁𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐒
full name. joanna mae harlow. nicknames. joey, joe, jm. age. 44. race. white. nationality. american. birthday. december 21st. zodiac. sagittarius. gender. cisfemale. pronouns. ( she / her ). sexual orientation. pansexual. birthplace. redcreek, michigan. occupation. owner of redstone bar.
[ Ⅱ ] . . . 𝐅𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐘
mother : helen harlow father : cameron harlow siblings: tristan harlow ( presumed dead ) , might make a wc for more siblings!
[ Ⅲ ] . . . 𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓
TW: brief mentions of death, grief, & substance abuse.
* in a small town where everyone knows each other, it's easy to get an idea of someone's character just by the stories attached with a surname. for the harlows, their name was often associated with trouble because wherever there was any to be found, it was almost always guaranteed that a harlow kid was involved in one way or another. * comfortably nestled in a trailer park just a couple blocks away from the main road, this family of misfits were known to be loud, crude, and quick to piss off. damn proud of it too -- wore the title of redcreek's trashiest family like a badge and joanna harlow was no exception. * a firecracker of a kid, known to have the mouth of a sailor and the disposition of a renegade. she had a talent for playing the bass guitar, a talent that she gained from her older brother - tristan. it was an ongoing joke that joey was tristan's mini-me. they were the spitting image of each other, both in physicality and temperament. * joey was nineteen when tristan went missing and that was when her world turned upside down. her family were among the many broken by the events. many in her inner circle felt like they had to distance themselves from joey, finding her familiarity to tristan too much to handle, including her own parents * TW: DRUG MENTION: so with everyone in her life too busy dealing with their own grief, joey all but isolated herself further by turning to the first break she could find – drugs. she had her first taste of them when she was looking through tristan's room, in search for answers to what could have happened to him. instead of a note though, she found a stash of fine white powder tucked in little tiny ziploc bags. * the rest of her life from there has been a blur. she never left redcreek. never managed to fulfill her dream of becoming a big musician. somehow managed to sober up and gain enough money to buy a shitty building and turn it into what is now known as redstone bar. * one doesn't always know what they will get with joey. she’s just as likely to start a fight as she is to offer a drink so most people tend to proceed with caution.
𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 : a girl who was set on a path of bad decisions by her rambunctious family grows to become a mess of a woman, ricocheting between recovery and relapse. her dreams of leaving town and becoming a rockstar were squashed the moment her brother went missing. punk meets small-town hick.
[ Ⅳ ] . . . 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 ─── all connections are open to any gender unless specified otherwise.
wc pinterest | wc tag
[ Ⅴ ] . . . 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘
＋adventurous＋unapologetic ＋protective －selfish －unreliable －volatile mbti : ISFJ natal chart : ↑ aquarius, ⊙ sagittarius, ☾ aquarius inspired by : natalie scatorccio ( yellowjackets ), mercutio ( romeo & juliet ), eleanor shellstrop ( the good place ), fleabag ( fleabag )
Reality Bites (1994) dir. Ben Stiller
MARIA 2024 | Dir. Pablo Larraín
PUSHING DAISIES 1x01 - Pie-lette
SOME LIKE IT HOT 1959 — dir. Billy Wilder
Poker Face 1.02 “The Night Shift”
❝ 𝙸𝙵 𝙸𝙼 𝚁𝙸𝙶𝙷𝚃 𝙰𝙱𝙾𝚄𝚃 𝚃𝙷𝙸𝚂, 𝙸 𝙲𝙾𝚄𝙻𝙳 𝚂𝙰𝚅𝙴 𝙰 𝙼𝙰𝙽'𝚂 𝙻𝙸𝙵𝙴. 𝙳𝙾 𝚈𝙾𝚄 𝙷𝙰𝚅𝙴 𝙰𝙽𝚈 𝙸𝙳𝙴𝙰 𝚆𝙷𝙰𝚃 𝚃𝙷𝙰𝚃 𝚆𝙾𝚄𝙻𝙳 𝙳𝙾 𝚃𝙾 𝙼𝚈 𝙱𝙾𝙾𝙺 𝚂𝙰𝙻𝙴𝚂? ❞
// ( destiny ryan. non-binary. she/they ) . ⸻ KENNEDY STUART , a twenty eight year old, has survived another day in red creek where they have lived for eighteen years and has been back a couple of months . THE PRODIGY is known for being ambitious and calculative and is often associated with murmured self-affirmations, a creeping curiosity, doing whatever it takes to exceed expectations, picture perfect smiles, pristine trophies on full display . in a small town where they work as a journalist at the register and an author, word travels fast . it’s hard to keep a secret , and it looks like the boogeyman knows that [ REDACTED ]
𝚃𝙷𝚁𝙴𝙰𝙳𝚂 | 𝙼𝚄𝚂𝙸𝙽𝙶𝚂 | 𝙼𝙸𝚁𝚁𝙾𝚁 | 𝙴𝙳𝙸𝚃𝚂 | 𝙿𝙻𝙰𝚈𝙻𝙸𝚂𝚃 | 𝙿𝙸𝙽𝚃𝙴𝚁𝙴𝚂𝚃
𝐀 𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐃𝐘 𝐈𝐍: being the golden child, a gnawing ambition, restless nights, being a pawn in your parent’s game, the need to be ten steps ahead, doing whatever it takes, always comparing yourself to others, when will it ever be enough?
[ Ⅰ ] . . . 𝐁𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐒
full name. kennedy noelle stuart. nicknames. ken, kenny, . age. 28. race. black. nationality. american. birthday. may 20th. zodiac. taurus. gender. non-binary. pronouns. ( she / they ). sexual orientation. pansexual. birthplace. redcreek, michigan. occupation. journalist
[ Ⅱ ] . . . 𝐅𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐘
mother : suzanne stuart herrera father : marcus stuart stepfather: jonathan ‘jon’ herrera stepbrother: santiago herrera
[ Ⅲ ] . . . 𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓
∗ kennedy was marcus and suzanne's last-ditch effort to stabilize the marriage between a narcissist and a small town primadonna. the attempt lasted for a few years on and off which resulted kennedy having to spend their early years alternating between two homes ∗ kennedy was the spitting image of the both of them and the two were painfully aware of it, pushing the young kid to be the best version of themselves . . . they just had different definitions of what that was. ∗ for marcus, it was a sharp mind. days with him usually consisted of activities that involved intellectual improvement - playing chess, reading books, watching documentaries. as for suzanne, she preferred more physical charms - sports & beauty pageants mostly. ∗ the combination resulted in a kid who's learned quickly that they earn most praise when they are not only good at something... but better than expected. a mindset eventually turned to a desire at being the best in whatever they set out to be. ∗ in 2006 suzanne started seeing a local man named jon hererra and before kennedy had a chance to process their mother's new relationship, they were asked to pack their bags to move in with this stranger and his son, santiago herrera. ∗ while kennedy's father was still in their life, it was apparent that he had decided to take a step back ( no doubt betrayed by how quickly his former wife moved on ) and began only taking kennedy on the weekends. ∗ life with the herrera's was different. suzanne had taken to bragging about her child's achievements. an energy that their stepfather quickly matched . he became invested in advancing kennedy's talents, perhaps hoping that their excellence would rub off on his son. ∗ unfortunately, kennedy had a hard time relating to santiago. perhaps it was the age difference or the resentment in their parent's union. whatever the reason, it made building a healthy relationship difficult. ∗ kennedy tended to focus on their academic pursuits instead. editor of the newspaper, head of the speech and debate team, goalie of the girl's soccer team... they had their hands full! eventually they graduate with honors and got accepted at NYU on a full ride to become an investigative journalist. ∗ after college, they booked a job at the new york times amd became a travelling journalist, moving from country to country to write pieces about whatever was relevant. ∗ during their travels they came across an interesting case that was ongoing in italy. there was a unexpected string of murders happening in a small countryside town and with the help of the local police department, it was determined that the local catholic priest was poisoning the offerings during their mass and would either pretend to heal them with the power of God or let them die. ∗ the article kennedy wrote didnt garner much attention but they were so invested in the story they decided to write a book about it named 'death at the altar' and lo and behold - it became a best seller! ∗ it was such a hit that kennedy had to take a break from their journalistic endeavors to go on a book tour. as exciting as it was, kennedy found it awfully tiresome. ∗ after some thought and some nudging from their mother & step-father, kennedy decided to take a break from it all and move back home. they took up a job at the local newspaper because they figured it would be easy. some fluff pieces here and there while they focus on their next big hit. it's red creek, michigan after all. nothing ever happens here.
𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 : a smart kid who watched their parents divorce and was forced to join another family along with her outrageous mother. left town as soon as she could but recently decided to move back home after writing a best selling true crime novel named 'death at the altar'.r'.
[ Ⅳ ] . . . 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 ─── all connections are open to any gender unless specified otherwise.
wc pinterest | wc tag
[ Ⅴ ] . . . 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘
＋clever ＋analytical ＋curious －unsympathetic －stubborn －judgmental mbti : ESFJ natal chart : ↑ capricorn, ⊙ taurus, ☾ cancer inspired by : gale weathers ( scream ), nancy wheeler ( stranger things ), monica geller ( friends )
❝ 𝑌𝘖𝑈 𝐴𝘙𝐸 𝐶𝘙𝑌𝘐𝑁𝘎 ! 𝑌𝘖𝑈 𝐴𝘙𝐸 𝐴𝘍𝑅𝘈𝐼𝘋 𝘖𝐹 𝑀𝘌 ! 𝐴𝘕𝐷 𝑌𝘌𝑇 𝐼 𝐴𝘔 𝘕𝑂𝘛 𝘙𝐸𝘈𝐿𝘓𝑌 𝑊𝘐𝐶𝘒𝐸𝘋. 𝐿𝘖𝑉𝘌 𝘔𝐸 𝐴𝘕𝐷 𝑌𝘖𝑈 𝑆𝘏𝐴𝘓𝐿 𝑆𝘌𝐸 ! ❞
( dev patel . cismale . he/him ) ─── VIKRAM SHAH a thirty five year old , has survived another day in red creek where they have lived for most of their life . THE SHEPHERD is known for being loyal and off-putting and is often associated with digging a finger under a tight collar, mornings covered in dew and fog, the clenching and unclenching a fist, a cornered animal snarling both in warning and in yearning. in a small town where they work as the funeral director at red creek cemetery , word travels fast . it’s hard to keep a secret , and it looks like the boogeyman knows that [ REDACTED ].
𝚃𝙷𝚁𝙴𝙰𝙳𝚂 | 𝙼𝚄𝚂𝙸𝙽𝙶𝚂 | 𝙼𝙸𝚁𝚁𝙾𝚁 | 𝙴𝙳𝙸𝚃𝚂 | 𝙿𝙻𝙰𝚈𝙻𝙸𝚂𝚃 | 𝙿𝙸𝙽𝚃𝙴𝚁𝙴𝚂𝚃
𝐀 𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐃𝐘 𝐈𝐍: being the local weird kid, touch deprivation, a fear of loneliness, a profound understanding of death, an anxious temperament, loving to the point of devotion, feeling uncomfortable in your own skin, feeling too deeply or not at all.
[ Ⅰ ] . . . 𝐁𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐒
full name. vikram shah. nicknames. vik, vikie, . age. 35. race. gujarati-indian. nationality. american. birthday. november 15th. zodiac. libra gender. cismale. pronouns. ( he / him ). sexual orientation. demisexual. birthplace. rajkot, india. occupation. funeral director.
[ Ⅱ ] . . . 𝐅𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐘
mother : uvrashi shah father : jasprit shah
[ Ⅲ ] . . . 𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓
∗ back in the day, viktor shah was a name that was more whispered than celebrated around the streets of red creek. hushed rumors of a troubled child, a young man with a hot temper and a knack for getting into trouble. ∗ what a shame it was too, that his parents were the sweetest people! jasprit & urvashi shah were nothing if not upstanding citizens. and well, vikram resented them for it. his parents were too busy cultivating their image and keeping the business that they put raising vikram quite low on their priority list. ∗ affection was not something that was commonly found in the shah household. sometimes it felt like they saw vikram more like their personal assistant rather than their child. ∗ as a young man who lacked the space and the ability to express himself, he resorted to acting out instead. smoking, drinking, trespassing, vandalism, all the petty things rambunctious teenagers like to do to raise a ruckus around town. ∗ which was interesting, because vik didn't carry himself with the same type of rowdiness or misconduct that his peers did. ∗ he was shy, soft-spoken, got decent grades -- all the makings of a nice unproblematic kid. there was definitely something else though. an underlying temper that could spring to life in a blink of an eye. one wrong comment could turn a meek smile into a vicious snarl just like that. ∗ it's unclear to everyone what finally got vik to mellow down. maybe something his parents said finally got through to him or maybe he grew tired of being known as the towns 'freak' ∗ regardless, vikram slowly began to phase out his rebellious, wannabe criminal phase during his college years. he graduated, went back home, and eventually took his father's place as the town's funeral director. ∗ vikram is still known around town as a generally polite man. a little quiet, tends to keep to himself, but is more than willing to lend a helping hand around the community. in the morning, he is usually spotted walking downtown holding bouquets of flowers and in the evenings he is known to catch a film at the movie theatre or grab a drink at one of the local bars. ∗ his profession and overall awkward demeanor still makes him a little of a freak to some people but any rumors around him are more made-up tales stirred by the more judgmental folk. stories of him being a necromancer or a witch, snide comments about how he seems more comfortable with dead bodies than live ones. anyone close to vik would tell you that he's a sensitive soul and simply prefers a wallflower lifestyle. ∗ if one were to pay close attention, they would notice that he keeps his knuckles bandaged most days, that he rarely invites people over to his home, the shadow that falls on his face when someone brings up his childhood, and sometimes, a pensive look - like he has something to confess
𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 : your local angsty teen grows up to be a soft-spoken, somewhat nervous adult. followed his father's footsteps in becoming a funeral director. living proof that emo is not a trend, it's a lifestyle.
[ Ⅳ ] . . . 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 ─── all connections are open to any gender unless specified otherwise.
wc pinterest | wc tag
[ Ⅴ ] . . . 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘
＋perceptive＋sensitive＋loyal －awkward－intense－insecure mbti : INFJ natal chart : ↑ libra, ⊙ scorpio, ☾ scorpio inspired by : the phantom ( phantom of the opera ), evan kelmp ( misfits & magic ), carrie ( carrie )
YOU'RE BIG. LARGER THAN LIFE. she’s heard that before. in a voice that sounded like rafaels, but wasn't his. close—painfully so— but not quite as deep. the familiarity is bittersweet, endearment and affliction flickering through her almost as quickly as the lights around them. kennedy is glad his back is to hers then, grateful for the bodies he has to navigate through, taking advantage of those extra seconds gained to compose herself before they reach their destination. “used to?” an eyebrow quirks at that, lips parted in a silent scoff. “don’t give up on me yet! i still have time.” that's what they would like to tell themselves anyways. that one’s life isn’t over if they don’t achieve all their goals by age thirty. that her return to redcreek didn’t mean she failed. it was only temporary.
now settled by the bar, kennedy is suddenly aware of how much they have had to drink. the room was still swaying even though they no longer were. they blink, slowly, the buzz from the liquor washing over them like a blanket, warm and heavy. maybe that’s why it’s easy to make promises for next time. to get caught up in the excitement of reconnecting with him. as if she hadn’t spent the last years carefully curating a distance between them. “yeah? are you saying i can just show up one day and ask for that dance? i know where you work, velazquez.” she flashes him a pleased grin as he slides the drink her way, quick to raise the glass to her lips. “it suits you, by the way. the tattoo shop. you always were the creative one.”
isn’t that right, joaquin?
the thought arises, a follow-up that feels as natural as breathing, but gets lodged in her throat when she turns to share a look with… NO ONE. picture frames of tender moments, but no house to hold them anymore. is that what grief is? as rafael leans into her initial touch, her hand flattens against his skin, the pads of her fingers pressing weakly, as if to check if he’s really here. she only catches the tail end of his question, gaze flickering to meet his once more. “no.” she breathes out, a subtle rasp in her voice, that knot tightening over her chords. dark hues scan his face, committing every feature to memory. as if he too was going to disappear the moment she let go. “you look beautiful.” once again taking his lead, dropping by her guard to reveal an unexpected moment of sincerity in the least ideal setting. only this time, she doesn’t have the time to think twice before another slip— “i really missed you, you know that?”
at that, rafael laughs - a small shake of his head all that's needed for a few stray stands to fall over his eyes. eyelashes blinking through them to watch her, "i'd love to see what you'd do with that power, kennedy - you're, big. larger than life." it's something joaquin would say; the memories barely skim the surface of his thoughts - he strikes a rainboot through them, sinks them further. "used to think you'd - conquer the whole world." it's genuine, too genuine for the club - for the crowd around them, for the buzz at the back of his head, warming where spine meets skull. "yeah," he agrees, easily; a passing laugh, "but it's still true, either way."
his forearms meet the edge of the bar, still close to kennedy - still allowing space between them. it's the most they've spoken since - since then. for once; rafael doesn't want to think about it. "you know where to find me, ken - door's always welcome for a good - waltz." beer left on the counter, rafael's turned towards them, sliding the tequila sunrise her way. he's always one to lean into touch, subconscious as their finger hooks onto him. another laugh escapes him, so easy. "you're the first one to get it, i think - yeah, the tall guy. dunno... felt easy, at the time. now i'm feeling a bit like a - misplaced film bro. do the wings make me look pretentious, ken? you can - be honest, with me. can handle the truth."
SALVADOR IS NOT SHY about the look-over he gives francis the moment he walks in. more curious than anything. with how slow the night has been, salva finds himself grateful for the new face, even one sporting a hairstyle that simply screams daddy’s (or mommy’s!) money. a look around the room, realizing the waitress who was scheduled to be with him was nowhere in sight. typical for this time of shift. salvador himself was known to disappear for periods at a time, usually to take an unnecessarily long smoke break or to talk someone up. anything to stop the night from dragging. with a sigh, he makes his way over, grabbing a grease-stained ticket book and plucking the pen he had tucked behind his ear. the click sounds louder than it should in the empty diner, but salva pays it no mind. that, and an expectant look are the closest thing to a greeting he’s going to give.
“what i recommend might depend on a couple of things. how hungry are we talking… boss?” a pointed pause to emphasize the disadvantage the stranger has found him in— only one of them was wearing a name tag. that’s fine. salvador was never good with names anyways. much better at remembering faces. particularly when they were as nice to look at as his. or the one he was tapping at. bronte’s. salvador hasn’t even read the article. doesn’t feel like he needs to, not when it’s all everyone has been talking about recently. even now as he takes a proper look at the article, all he can really bring himself to care about is how hot the brunette looks. all pissed off and indignant.
“yeah, i guess.” he replies with a shrug, INDIFFERENT. “i just think it’s kind of fucking weird that some prick took a picture of the whole thing.” is nothing sacred anymore? can lovers not quarrel in peace? the quip on her affinity for pegging makes salvador grin, amusement slowly blooming under relaxed features. “id say she was into it just as much as any girl should be.” which is a lot, in his very humble opinion. “i can give you her number - if you want it. pretty boy like you… think you might just be her TYPE.” the corner of his lip twitches upwards, “might come at the price of your life but hey— with a face like that she would be entitled to it, right? hot privilege and all that.” salvador knows a thing or two about that. “so – what’s your deal? abercrombie and fitch don’t pay enough, so you had to take up trucking as a side gig?” absolutely nothing about him screamed trucker, but that was simply what salvador was used to seeing at this time of night.
ꜜ ﹙ 💳 ﹚ ﹕ there was no real reason to be here aside from the fact that it was only place open in the dead of night, when sleep was an impossible dream in a sprawling lakehouse that felt suffocating⸻ its emptiness pressing down on him and his loneliness. at least here at dolly's, the hum of the old lights buzzed louder than his more dreadful thoughts, place nearly empty, save for a trucker nursing a coffee and a line cook that looked like he should be a nude calendar model instead of flipping patties. he definitely looked like a march or april kind of guy, too pretty not to be a sleazy womanizer, and so people must be hiding their eggs from him like it's easter. practice safe sex and all. he seemed fun, at least. but those were just the intrusive thoughts that invaded francis' head as he stared at the cook instead of coming up with what he wanted to order. he leaned forward, arms resting on the counter, eyes tracing the other man's nametag before looking into his eyes. “ i'll just have whatever you recommend, salvador. ” he clicked his tongue and smiled, before attention drifted to the abandoned newspaper on the counter. the article on the front page wasn't exactly what he expected from the local press ﹕ but it sure was entertaining, albeit a little disappointing that the mystery might be over when he only just got here to see how he'd fare against a sharp knife. francis tapped the photo over and over and over until he got the line cook's attention again, a low chuckle echoing faintly in the empty diner. “ this girl— they think she has something to do with the other one going missing ? i mean, she's got a face that looks like she's a little too into pegging. but hell, with a face like that, she should be able to have whatever she goddamn wants. murder included. ” @brntout
CYNTHIA ERIVO as Elphaba and JONATHAN BAILEY as Fiyero in Wicked: Part One (2024)
his smile widens at the sight of hana rolling her eyes, always a sucker for that type of banter, especially when it came from someone as vivacious as hana. always smiling, always sunny. salvador couldn’t help but wonder what she looks like when she’s annoyed. would she be the type to yell or silently plot revenge? can’t really picture her slashing a tire, but he is convinced that she has to be some type of crazy to work here. to base her reply on what a playing card has to say. he was a sucker for crazy too. his gaze only flickers to the image when she presents it, a lazy attempt to feign interest before landing back on hana. “the fool?” he repeats, an airy chuckle escaping her as he does. “didn’t even know they had a card named that. i’ll take it, i guess.” he’s been called worse. mostly deserved. honestly, she could have told him anything and he would have accepted it. knew better than to question a woman with witchy inclinations. “fresh starts and taking risks… think it’s talking about you? you got some danger attached to you, han?” he asks, taking a step back to look her over, as if he could find an answer on sight alone. “what are you doing this weekend?” // @repentulant
☾ ⋰ hana rolls her eyes as she stands upright, although she isn't entirely annoyed. any attention is great, positive attention even better. she bites the inside of her cheek to keep an excited smile from spreading across her features. head tilts like she's heavily debating the answer. ❝ hmm... let's see what card has to say about that, yes ? ❞ she flips the card & shrieks out a little laugh : in her hands sits the fool. she can think of more than one person that would love to know the card he pulled. she turns it to him like a gift. ❝ so, this one isn't bad. it was just funny to flip around. it's all about fresh starts & taking risks. ❞ and also warns of the dangers of blind optimism & delirium, but she can tell him about that later. ❝ lucky for you, it also means yes. ❞
the irritation that drips off nadia only serves to amuse salvador further. he takes a step back when nadia approaches, giving her enough space to cut in front of him and rearrange the display. there’s one candle still in his hand, head dipped slightly to get a good whiff, but he can’t tell what the candle is supposed to smell like— too busy looking at nadia through dark lashes. a scoff escapes him at her quip, “don't be ridiculous, nadia. curses aren't real. ” his looks were natural, thank you! “—and i didn’t cheat on her. not technically. we were never officially together. you'd think the cosmos would have— i don't know —given her a memo or something.” he shrugs, as if it were no big deal. ‘cus it wasn’t. not to him at least. “you don’t actually believe in all this shit, do you? it’s okay– you can tell me. promise i won’t tell your boss.” he chooses not to address the surprise in her tone when she accepts his offer to take her home. it’s true that he’s the furthest thing from a gentleman—but even he has enough sense to not let nadia walk off alone. he’s not about to pat himself on the back for doing the bare minimum. not when it comes to this.
it’s her reply to his second question that he focuses on, a laugh breaking out from him at her reaction. how graphic! “you wanna stop thinking about my dick for a moment? i was genuinely wondering if you wanted to hit up some pool.” he really was, but the way his eyes flicker to her lips might make that hard to believe. if he was a better man, he would put up more of a fight to ensure nadia didn’t get the wrong impression, but the thought was there now that nadia had vocalized it. huh, maybe words really were spells. at least, the ones he was willing to listen to. “--or is that how manifestation works?” he asks, voice playfully dipping in tone as he steps closer, placing that candle he had been holding on to back to its designated spot. “you don’t have to be shy, nads. i give just as well as i take if that’s what you're worried about.”
nadia points to the sign she's flipped to now read CLOSED . " the candles are sure done with you . " she states easily . nadia will never understand his seeming obsession with this store other than YES , everyone who works here is hot ( herself included ) . nadia moves around him , her fingers automatically straightening up the candles he'd just been lifting and sniffing . " and she cursed you to look like this forever after you inevitably cheated on her , i'm guessing ? " she says easily , with a grin stretching her lips . nadia rolls her eyes at the easy way he turns it all on . it's like a sport , and he's MAYBE winning bronze ( not quite gold ) . she pulls a face at his comment about locking him up and any ideas of fun . as usual , she chooses to ignore it . nadia does pause though , at the offer of a drive home . she likes walking when she can , but hadn't thought that with everything going on currently and the sun now SETTING . it may not be the safest thing to walk home . a lift might actually be useful . " ok . thanks . " she says , not bothering to hide her surprise at his offer . she narrows her eyes . " i don't have any plans , but if your next best option is to give you a blowjob or something , then i do have plans : it's buying a gun and killing myself with it . "
Margaret Atwood, The Blind Assassin
requests — anonymous asked — can you gif the ‘you’re not my type’ ‘we just had sex’ 'if you were i wouldn’t have, i’d have gotten to know you first’ conversation separately?
soon as she unblocks me the wedding is back on
even with the defensive action of raising his hands up, the silence that ricardo offers only serves to fuel the fire raging within kennedy. it brings them right back to that halloween night—the walk to redstone just hours after hearing the news. the body. the cold chill in the air. ricardo, glossing over the moment kennedy tried to stand up for themselves, brushing it off like it didn’t matter. like they didn’t matter. that memory claws at them now as he takes time to process. think. whatever the hell he does when he doesn't want to hear her nagging anymore. they stand there for a moment, dumbfounded, resisting the urge to snap their fingers at him to hurry it along. "respectfully? i don't have the time to watch you disassociate, right now."
ricardo's helpful reminder of where they stand in the register's hierarchy doesn't go unheard. they scoff at it, jaw clenching in useless defiance. “then act like it” they spit, stepping closer until they're right in front of his desk. they plant their hand flat onto his desk, pinning the article they brought in beneath their palm. “work with me.” the words teeter between a demand and a plea, frustration lacing each syllable. “you could have called me,” kennedy presses, their voice lowering, but no less tight. “i would’ve picked up. we could have pushed it. we could have worked together." that was the root of their issue with this. their biggest strife with ricardo.
harsh expectations? kennedy was used to those. thrived under them even. it was his dismissal of her ability that enraged her. made it difficult not to take his decision to run the story personally when it was paired with diminishing comments like 'wine and gossip' along with a refusal to relay where he got the intel. someone had to have given this information to ricardo. out of everyone in the register... why him? what the hell did he have that they didn't? "don't be petty with me, ricardo." they warn, the mention of their book striking a fresh new chord. "you have no right to tell me what this is bigger than. this isn't your town." they straighten then, squaring their shoulders. "you don't want to tell me where you got this intel? fine. i'll figure it out myself." if ricardo wants to keep secrets between them, kennedy will do what they do best. they will dig.
kennedy's words are true - that's the worst thing . kennedy is the smartest person in this shithole town and they don't even realise it . his eyes are careful as they watch her finger raise . he hasn't seen anyone this mad at him in a long time ( forgetting taylan , that was just for fun ) . ricardo holds up his hands , a long sigh leaving him . he opens his mouth , but finds it slide closed again . kennedy's words ring in his ears . FUCKED US . FUCKED ME . for a moment , he lets the silence wash over them . his breathing is out of tune with his heartbeat . why didn't he share it ? why didn't he text them or effie ? why does he make a bad situation worse ? he doesn't have answers for her . " may i remind you that i'm your BOSS ? " ricardo says instead , but his voice isn't as heated as he'd normally have it . he almost feels like a child scolded and can't help look down at the newspaper scrunched on his desk with some uncomfortableness now . " there was 15 minutes until print . i didn't have time to have a wine and gossip with you and effie . " he presses his mouth closed , eyes zeroiing back in on the image of bronte and daniela mid-argument . " i don't owe you an explanation . i did what was best for right now ." he tears his gaze from the newspaper , jaw locking . " daniela is missing . people are dying . this is bigger than just you wanting your next failed attempt at a new york times best seller . "
the two painted an amusing contrast against the sterile backdrop of redcreek’s pharmacy. taylan, fiery and impatient, his vivid red energy pushing past vikram’s more solemn blue. "oh, sorry." sass was not something that had ever come naturally to vikram. apologies did. always something to be sorry for when your dignity is paper thin. and that’s exactly what he offers now, raising a hand instinctively in submission as he steps aside. he had fully expected their interaction to end there so when taylan speaks again, it catches vikram fully off guard, eyes widening as the other's crude humor rings in the air, almost as loud as the bell he was relentlessly pressing a moment prior.
'business is blooming.' vikram clears his throat at that, shifting awkwardly in place. “uh, yeah, i suppose it is.” brows twitch into a frown at his own reply. immediately, vikram can tell this conversation will be one he regrets. one that his mind will save into the memory of his brain and safely tuck away at the corner of his mind specifically reserved for remembering any time he puts his foot in his mouth. for anyone wondering, throwing azi under the bus in his police interview is stashed away in there as well. he draws in a sharp breath, trying again, more composed this time. “they’re probably at lunch and forgot to put up a sign.” better to address the younger man’s actual question than the colorful way he expressed it. “or maybe they did put one up, and we’re both equally awful at noticing it.” there’s a hint of a joke in his tone as his eyes flicker to the 'no smoking' sign hanging in the crook of the reception counter, right above the forgotten ashes of taylan’s cigarette.
where : red creek pharmacy status : closed with @brntout
with a cigarette dangling between his lips and insomnia looming underneath his eyes , taylan's days and nights blend into an aching mess that he can’t ease with the pills that he takes . years of playing hockey and fighting on the ice led him to shed blood , and steal from others without repercussions . but one accident had pulled on a loose thread making everything come undone . unraveling a poorly stitched pattern that his coach attempted to stitch close over the years with the help of painkillers . no pharmacist in sight and patience running thin . rough , careless and blowing out a waft of smoke , taylan pushes past vikram and leans against the counter , disregarding the no - smoking sign as if it were mere decoration . impatiently , he presses the call bell , over and over again . ding , ding , ding , resounds and bounces against the the pharmacy walls . “ think they died ? ” toying with the cherry at the end of his cigarette , taylan burns the pad of his thumb before pressing it out on the reception desk , leaving a dark marring spot behind . “ for all we know , the boogeyman gutted them in the back , and we have one less pharmacist in this town . ” too soon . “ congrats business is blooming for you . ”