TEEN WOLF 3.03 Fireflies

"hmm that you did." they muse, a smile tugging at the corners of their mouth. "man, you always had the best stuff." she was discreet too, which was something kennedy always appreciated about nadia. they can't even imagine what trouble they would have gotten in if their parents had ever caught wind of all the times the two smoked beneath the school bleachers, giggling about whatever nonsense was relevant at the time. they were a match made in heaven. nadia needed their book smarts to pass class, kennedy needed her street smarts to make this godforsaken town remotely bearable. an unlikely duo, but a friendship that kennedy didn't realize how much they've missed until tonight. distance ihas a watt of testing relationships and kennedy, of all people, knew that all to well. despite the years apart they still felt a little corner of their heart reserved for nadia. they didn’t know how to navigate moments like this, though. they knew she wasn’t the type to look for sympathy and it didn't feel right to bash her parents when nadia still clearly held some attachment towards them. would kennedy feel the same if they were in nadia’s shoes?

so they don’t say anything. instead, offer a solemn nod. they are sure they will ponder this later, when their brain finally manages to come up with something remotely wise. the glamorized pictures that nadia paints of their job description are far more exciting than the reality that is a gray cubicle and the sound of typing filling the air like elevator music. a laugh breaks out at nadia’s anchor-like voice and they follow suit, unhooking their arm from nadia’s to sit up straighter, raising a fist to their lips as if it were a microphone. “thank you nadia, for the local hottie report. we cut back to announce that unfortunately for everyone back at home, the glamor will end the moment the liquor leaves your system. we recommend thinking twice before sending that ‘u up?’ text.” not exactly the type of reporting kennedy does, but definitely more amusing on a night like this. kennedy’s smile falters a little as they cheer once more, nadia’s words stirring something inside kennedy. something they don't particularly want to put a label to yet. the pause between them is brief, but heavy and it seems they are both happy to choke it down with the tequila rather than addressing the unspoken truth – that despite rekindling their friendship, the years have placed them on different paths, two worlds apart. “you wanna go dance?”

kennedy's reaction is exactly why nadia finds it as indulging to tease them about santi . nadia would be lying if she didn't inwardly cringe at it , too . her grin stays large and present on her face as the two laugh . she feels like a teenager again , which is only elevated at the mention of study guides . " did i not offer you weed and alcohol aplenty in return ? " she pretends to scoff , as if the exchange wasn't still WHOLLY UNFAIR to kennedy . " i wouldn't have passed any classes without those study guides . " nadia's grades were as abysmal as anything else that requires her to spend time on it .

the warm contact of their arm around her makes her smile , almost abashed , down at the floor . they're both not huggers , but there's familiarity there . " i hear from her every now and then . " nadia replies and hopes to god they leave it at that . her phone burns in her pocket , silent and abandoned . a reminder of how her parents view her generally . " i mean your duty in the same way the royals talk about their crown . " in a way , kennedy and their job is comparable to the monarchy . nadia offers them her sweetest smile and is pleased when it works when kennedy eases up . " a fluff piece , huh ? what will that constitute of ? the night was young , and the town people were hot . . " she fakes a news anchor tone . honestly , nadia can't remember the last time she read the register , but she'd be more prone to pick it up now if it meant supporting kennedy . nadia beams , all teeth , as she clinks her second shot glass against kennedy's . " cheers to us drinking together again . who woulda thought that would happen ? 22 year old us would refuse to believe it . " it's meant to be said in a positive way , but it sounds like a horrible REMINDER OF FAILURE even to nadia's ears . she busies herself with clinking the shot glass again , with more determination this time , and swiftly downing it .

location : redstone bar

time : evening

for : taylan ( @ofvolatile )

there were two things the town seemed to be in silent agreement on when it came to the yalçınkayas. one, their kid was bad news. two, they weren’t talking about the daughter or their 20(?) cousins. wherever taylan went, trouble seemed to follow and it didn't take kennedy much convincing from their parents to keep their distance from him. and yet, it always felt like like taylan was always lingering somewhere in the periphery of her upbringing—as selin’s problematic brother, santiago’s troublemaking friend, and a thorn on redcreek's side. but with the recent murder of one alaina price, taylan's return to town was beginning to feel less of a coincidence and more like an omen. was alaina's downfall the wrath of a boy who never quite grew out of his rage?

he was a recognizable figure, even from behind. a head of brown messy waves sitting on top of broad shoulders and an aura that just screamed for someone, anyone, to just give him a reason. against carefully developed instincts, she approaches. the stool beside him creeks against hardwood as she settles herself onto it, announcing her arrival to both taylan and the bartender. “tequila soda, please.” her gaze darts over to taylan, as if to size him up, before turning back to the bartender and tipping her head towards him. “—and whatever he‘ll have.”

“obsession?” she can’t help but laugh as that, though it lacks humor. "that is so dramatic, ricardo. i was just asking you a question." the silence that now envelopes them is not as comfortable. there's no solidarity no mutual understanding of how to navigate a story. what little patience they had for ricardo's antics is quickly depleting the more he speaks. "jesus, we get it. you're in a different tax bracket! do you really have to remind everyone of that every chance you get?" they are suddenly regretting the decision to accept the blazer. if he is intent on treating them like a child about it then they would rather freeze to death. kennedy meets ricardo's gaze as he scoffs at their plan, brows twitching into a frown. then they sigh, as if truly disappointed. “i must have mistaken you for someone with initiative,” they respond, fixing her gaze ahead of them once more, a newfound determination finding it's way to their bones. “fine — don’t help me gather intel. ill do it myself.” they don’t need him. they don’t need anybody. it was foolish of her to think the common goal or whipping up some notoriety was enough for them to work together. kennedy does remember him vaguely saying something like that to them and at the time, they bit their tongue. figured it was just him adding some good old corporate fear to the work culture. besides, what the hell could they possibly uncover in red creek? but now, their journalistic instinct tells them that there might just be a story to be told tonight and they aren’t interested in letting anyone’s ego get in the way of that.

they pick up their pace slightly, enough to step in front of him and put both of their strides to a pause. “i’m afraid there’s been a misunderstanding between us, sir.” their voice shifts into a more professional tone but make no mistake — there is a definite bite in there. “i am sorry if i gave you the impression that i'm some lackey who's value rests on writing fluff stories for the piece of shit station you decided to burrow yourself into." it’s clear he doesn't know anything about them. the articles they’ve written, the stories they’ve uncovered, the damn book they wrote. and it's even clearer now that he simply doesn't care . "so let's re-evaluate each other's professional expectations, should we? how about you stop acting like i'm some inconvenience to have at your side and i'll stop mistaking your interest in the news as a willingness to help?" as per my last email, fuck you. 

HE SCOWLS AT THE LINE OF QUESTIONING . what may be harmless to others , royally pisses ricardo off . he doesn't like small talk . he doesn't like incessant questioning . this is the worst thing that reporters do and something he now only has HIMSELF to thank for picking the register to buy . inadvertently he's surrounded himself with nosy freaks . " what's the obsession with whether i watch movies or not ? are you planning an exposé on ricardo garcia's watching habits ? " it's not a snap , but it's close . his eyebrows set and his expression shutters off . he allows silence to wash over them as they continue walking , but he notes the way kennedy hugs the blazer slightly closer to their body . " don't spill anything on that . it's worth more than a year of your pay check . " he can't help add .

he silently agrees that the killer may be one for dramatics . a part of him wants to drive deeper and ask kennedy about their thoughts on what it means . why halloween . why that street . why that time . did they know people would be out ? was it accidental or planned ? but ricardo doesn't quite enjoy inciting conversation and a stronger part of him is worried that kennedy will take it as an invite to pester him with more questions in return . instead, he hums in agreement at their sentiment . ricardo glances at kennedy , with a scoff . " divide and conquer ? no thanks . i'm not your coworker . you ought to remember that . " he shakes his head . " i don't divide and conquer and i definitely don't take orders from my own staff . " he lifts a hand up , waving it . " what did i say on my first day here again ? something about ' you get me something interesting and you get to keep your jobs , otherwise , don't bother me ? ' tonight's hardly a call for us to sing kumbaya and collaborate . " ricardo feels restless then . itchy . he remembers why he doesn't like talking to people and especially shouldn't talk to his own workers . he doesn't need friends . he doesn't need anyone . he is uncomfortable because he knows , deep down , that's exactly what he needs . but a man raised a wolf will always only bare his teeth . it is in his nature . " no . " ricardo says flatly . " go find some sad loser to drink with you . " he's sure there's more than plenty still wandering around .

"so it sounds like you're having a good night?" even in her current state, hana's magnetism and her ability to command a room seems as prevalent as ever. even a man like vikram, who tended to navigate through spaces with a downcast gaze, can't help but have his attention on her as she weaves ( bulldozes? ) them though the crowd. his eyes are trained on white bunny ears, watching them bob in tune with the buoyancy of her steps. next thing he knows, he's settling himself into the space next to hana, sandwiched between her and another group of partygoers trying to catch the bartender's attention. hana beats them to it and while he can't really make out just what exactly she is ordering, he does manage to at least place his card down for the bartender to take. "goals for tonight?" he repeats the question slowly to give it some thought but before he can, hana takes off with her own ideas. the more animated she becomes, the more dread vik feels and suddenly his free hand clasps over hers, giving it a small, desperate squeeze.

"hana... please." it's almost a whisper, barely audible if it wasn't for the proximity. "have some mercy on me tonight. can we settle for... a dance, maybe? i don't think anybody wants to see me on top of anything." if he didn't have a fear of heights and djs, he certainly does now. "how about the goal is that i make it to midnight without wishing i would have stayed home?" there's a bit of a joke in there. somewhere. his eyes land on the drinks placed before them and is immediately weary of it as hana hands one over to him. he swears he can smell the heartburn from here. "oh, do you want to do that thing they do in movies? where they lock arms?" see, he's not a total stick in the mud! ahaha.

☾ hana is ever so grateful that vikram simply goes along with her plans. there's an internal moment of triumph whenever she manages to chip away part of the shell — even if it always seems to be temporary. ❝ perfect. 'cos i've had, like, so many shots already. gotta get you caught up, vik. morgue-a-ritas, mystery mimosas, green goblins . . . whatever will get the job done ! ❞ she shimmies her way between people at the bar with an over - zealous excuse me, pointing to something on the special drinks menu as soon as she can catch the bartenders attention. she pulls vik in too, wordlessly insistent that he take up space too. ❝ do we have any goals for tonight ? like, ummm . . . infiltrate the dj booth ? climb the tables ? ❞ hana's teasing, of course — suggesting bogus options to see the reaction they pull. no sooner do their drinks hit the bartop (a concerning shade of green) before she's pushing one glass into his hand. ❝ bottoms up. ❞

kennedy does one better than closing the door. they lock it. in one sharp motion, unwilling to let anyone get wrapped up in the shit storm that is about to ensue... they turn back to face him, expression a melting pot of emotions— anger, disdain, disgust, and just when it's about to flicker into something more vulnerable... he opens his goddamn mouth. "don't—" they raise a cautionary finger. the smug calmness in his response only serves to stoke the fire burning inside them, their pulse pounding in their throat. "don't act like you have the situation under control.   dimwit officers? don't trust the sheriff?" it wasn't that kennedy didn't share the sentiment. they're certain they've made a passing comment about the incompetence of most police departments to ricardo. but in the world of journalism, there were rules to play and pissing off the most reliable source of information had rookie mistake written all over it. "you fucked us. you fucked me." and he doesn't pay her enough for that. "where did you even get this information? why didn't you share this with me? or effie?"

ricardo knew this was going to happen . he's never been an idiot , but he does move fast enough that sometimes it makes people consider he COULD be an idiot . cunning always is worn in a certain way when it comes to him . WHEN HE GOT THE PHOTOS - he did think of kennedy . he thought of them straight away . he knew exactly how they would have looked at the photos in reverence and awe . kennedy would have known exactly the way to deal with it . the best way to write it . the PUNCHIEST statements to click ' enter ' on . ricardo hates to admit that he needs anyone , let alone kennedy . but if she had been in the office with him that morning , things might have turned out differently . ALAS SHE WASN'T . he was as alone as he was born , and like wolves do - he struck as quick as he could . RICARDO CLOSES HIS EYES AS SOON AS HE HEARS KENNEDY ENTER . the rage within her in imminent , it vibrates through the walls of the register . " close the door behind you . " he greets back , pleasantly . he doesn't need to look down at the newspaper to see his own typed words and the photos BLINKING BACK AT HIM . he's spent enough time with them . " you're mad . " he notes .

salvador  emerges  from  the  heavy  back  doors,  both  hands  clutching  oversized  black  trash  bags  that  reek  of  grease  and  kitchen  waste.  the  shift  from  the  suffocating  heat  of  the  kitchen  to  the  sharp  chill  of  the  night  air  sends  a  shiver  up  his  spine,  making  him  painfully  aware  of  the  sweat  clinging  onto  his  brow.  he  exhales  sharply,  annoyed  that  his  hands  are  too  occupied  to  swipe  it  away.  then  his  gaze  lifts—and  locks  on  her.  henrietta  nivan.  the  woman  of  the  goddamn  hour.  salvador  had  clocked  the  moment  she  walked  into  the  diner,  could  hear  the  commotion  of  surprised  patrons  through  the  sizzling  of  the  stove  and  the  blaring  baseline  of  his  coworker's  shitty  playlist.  even  he  couldn't  resist  peering  through  the  ticket  window  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  her  as  she  left  the  diner.  she’s  back.  he  doesn't  expect  to  see  her  out  here  though.

her  greeting  is  quick  to  fill  the  silence  between  them  and  a  laugh  from  him  shortly  follows.  "please."  he  scoffs,  the  corner  of  his  lip  twitching  upwards  as  he  turns  away  from  her  to  finish  his  task  of  hauling  trash  over  a  grimey  commercial  garbage  can.  "nah,  hen.  no  kids."  none  that  he  knows  of  anyway.  he  shoots  a  sideways  glance  her  way,  full  of  feigned  expectancy.  "⏤  unless  you  have  news  for  me?"  the  last  bag  is  tossed  over  and  the  lid  is  closed  with  an  echoing  thud  against  the  metal.  he  wipes  his  hands  on  his  apron,  uses  his  forearm  to  finally  clear  his  forehead  before  stepping  back  towards  her.  “i’d  give  you  a  hug  but  i’d  hate  to  ruin  that  fancy  blouse  you  got  on.”  an  outfit  he  never  once  saw  her  wearing  if  he's  honest.  prim  and  proper  and  so  unlike  the  girl  he  remembers  fooling  around  with.  it  wasn't  a  bad  look.  just...  different.  “are  the  city  cops  after  you  for  raiding  hilary  clinton’s  closet  or  something?  that  why  you’re  back  in  town?”

ꜜ ﹙ 🪞  ﹚ ﹕ homecoming was its own specific kind of hell⸻ sat on the corner booth of dolly's, the cracked leather of the seat pinching at the back of her thigh with every shift. the clatter of forks & plates punctuated the low hum of conversation that seemed to crescendo with each passing minute, whispers and glances sliding off the walls and settling right on her shoulders as they finally recognized her. church friends of her parents, high school classmates who had never left town, people well-aware of the nivans name, all of them orbiting, pausing at her table with bright smiles and the mind-numbing idle chit-chat. do you remember me ? you've grown so tall now ! is that a wedding ring on your finger ? didn't think we'd see the day, hen ! fingers drummed against the chipped tabletop until the small talk finally clogged her throat, jaw finally hurting from her everlasting polite smile, appetite shriveling beneath all the tedium of smalltown reunions. henry excused herself to attend some imaginary business, throwing down enough money to cover the pancakes, lukewarm fires and watery cola ﹕ the door's bell shrilling her departure. but henry didn't get anywhere too far, the alley behind dolly's was cooler, quiet, gravel crunching underfoot as she leaned into the rough brick wall and reached for her lighter. that silence didn't really last very long however, smoke curling from her lips as she noticed the backdoor swing open ﹕ and there he was, salvador, an apron splattered with grease tied around his waist. “ so, ” hard stare pressing against him, lips slowly tugging into a smile, almost as if trying to formulate a theory on salvador's life during the last eight years she had been away. “ did you ever manage to knock someone up ? got all sorts of welcome, only thing that's really missing is someone telling me i'm the godmother of a child i haven't met. ” @brntout

BOBBY BRIGGS TWIN PEAKS | 1.04

   ❝ 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 )

"yikes, dude. they got you good." kennedy winces when he gestures towards his face. "people are losing their goddamn minds — did sel make it out, okay?" they ask, though they wouldn't blame him if he didn't know. maybe they should text her. a tender smile grows at santiago's offer. god, when was the last time they slept under the same roof? "it's okay, i can take the couch. i have to whip something up for work by 5am." they can still make it, they think. if they borrow santi's laptop and chug some water. "i don't think i could sleep even if i wanted to... do you have work tomorrow? how is that going?" is now the time for them to have some small talk? probably not but if the tremble of their fingers as they aimlessly smooth their dress down is an indicator for anything, it's that they would rather not be alone right now.

⁑ the corner of his mouth quirks into a smile when he's humored. ❝ glad you're okay too. ❞ and he's genuine about that. santi doesn't mention the body that police found tonight, but he's sure they know about it. ❝ fuck, i don't even know. i was walking to catch up with sel and then— i dunno, boom. smacked in the head. ❞ he gestures to the bruising part of his face. he hesitates for a moment, then offers, ❝ you should stay over tonight. i can take the couch. crazy night. ❞