Kennedy Stuart ​​🇯​​🇪​​🇳​​🇳​​🇮​​🇫​​🇪​​🇷​ ​🇨​​🇭​​🇪​​🇨​​🇰​​

TEEN WOLF 3.03 Fireflies

“am i?” vikram asks, taking a beat too long to process the playfulness in natha's voice. once it does, he offers a breathless chuckle “yeah, i suppose i am. i um, actually stopped by to see if you wanted some extra candy to hand out. i… overindulged.” especially for the number of visitors vikram tends to get. it should be no surprise to anyone that the mayors house would be more popular to bring your kids to than the funeral director's.  “oh —this?” he looks down at his costume, which isn’t all too different from his usual attire — a black suit. “one sec,” he frees a hand from the pumpkin shaped bucket of candy bars he’s holding to dig into the pocket of his suit jacket. some shuffling later, he pulls out the only real indicator that this would be a costume — a white half masquerade mask. he quickly puts it on before facing nathan once more. “i’m the phantom… from phantom of the opera? are you a fan of musicals, mayor?” vikram is certain he should know the answer to this but alas, his memory falls short.

𝖫𝖮𝖢𝖠𝖳𝖨𝖮𝖭　:　nathan's front door,  around  7pm 𝖲𝖳𝖠𝖳𝖴𝖲　:　open  for  anyone

“  aren't  you  a  bit  too  old  to  be  trick  or  treating?  ”  nathan  asks,  cradling  a  bowl  of  candy  on  his  hip  as  he  leans  against  his  cobweb-decorated  door.  there's  no  malice  in  his  tone,  if  anything  he's  amused,  chuckling  as  he  hands  them  over  a  few  fun-sized  chocolate  bars.  “  and  you're  supposed  to  be  …  ahh?  …  ”  he  wonders with  a  raised  brow,  gesturing  towards  their  costume.

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."

it’s a surprise there isn’t more awkwardness between them considering how little the two have interacted with each other before tonight. ken had heard of the change in the register’s hierarchy before they had made it back to town and naturally, it made them curious. ‘who is ricardo perez and why did he decide to purchase the local newspaper station of some shit town?' in the two months since they’ve been at the register he hasn't really been around much for her to ask and whenever he was, work took precedence over any relationship building. that was perfectly fine with kennedy. their first impression of him had left much to be desired. a man in designer, with an air of self-importance, painfully aware of the edge given by his looks and money. his arrogance almost felt curated, like he had built it for the precise goal of pissing everybody off. tonight they find themselves pleasantly surprised by the man walking beside him. the fact that he’s out here with them, skulking the ominous streets while a potential murderer is on the loose is more than they can say for any of their former employers. ricardo is showing a willingness to get his hands dirty and that kennedy can respect.

“so you don’t watch movies because you’re too busy being rich?” kennedy flashes him a look — they are calling bullshit! “i’ll be fine.” hm, that’s not what he cares about. they add, “and i’’ll be able to write just fine, thank you.” quick to dismiss his comment, unwilling to humor any question to their competence, even in their current state. they aren’t wasted and they probably have the sobering effect of the news to thank for that. it was a poor move to allow themselves to get carried away with the evening’s festivities. one that they haven’t stopped mentally cursing themselves for. "oh — " ricardo’s gesture to give them his jacket visibly catches them off guard. a moment of chivalry that they wouldn’t have expected from anyone, much less him. then he follows it up with his usual snark and kennedy’s mind focuses on the familiarity of that instead.  “sorry, i wasn’t expecting to be out this late. i would be in bed right now if it wasn’t for the body. if there is a killer, then it has to be one with a flair for dramatics.” they huff indignantly but they allow their fingers tug at the fabric of his blazer,  securing it over themselves.  “the way you said it made it sound like you didn’t like halloween and i was just wondering why. sue me.” they reply, their voice kept at an even, matter-of-fact tone but if he were to take a glimpse of her, he would notice the corner of her lips twitch in amusement. the irony of him telling a journalist of all people that, when all kenny knows to do is dig and dig for something deeper. who would they even be if they didn’t read into things? if they didn’t push for more? even his refusal to elaborate intrigues her, and gives her an all too familiar itch to scratch, but they have more tact than that. besides... there’s work to be done. “great, we can divide and conquer then. make more use of our time that way.” they’re in a time crunch after all, with only so many hours left in this godforsaken night. “so you wouldn’t take me up on an espresso martini, then? killjoy.”

he lets out a long breath of air as they walk together . for a brief moment , he can feel the tension unspooling from within him . the tension that's made a name , clawed its way deep into his body , nested there , left bloody marks - refused to let him go . but when he inhales again , it's right back . heavier than ever . ricardo's only been here 6 months and in those 6 months he's spent next to no time at the register . THE REGISTER ISN'T WHY HE CAME HERE , it was just a great opportunity . on his first day in town , he'd done the obligatory show of face , but had hopefully made it clear that the register would continue it's boring hum-drum life without him . he was purely OPERATIONAL . everything changed , of course , when daniela went missing . he can sense that apprehension and distrust from kennedy . he gets it a lot . at least from them , it makes SENSE .

at their comment , ricardo manages a half roll of his eyes , using the opportunity to look up at the blank night sky . there's not a single star he can see . " being rich takes up more time than you'd think . " he replies coolly instead . it's not exactly a lie . he chances a glance at kennedy as they walk , analysing their drunkenness . " you better still write coherently . i don't want to read the front page of you just garbling drunken nonsense . " as kennedy wraps their arms around themselves , ricardo makes a show of rolling his eyes this time . he shrugs out of his blazer and places it over her shoulders . " next time , wear something weather - appropriate . " he continues walking , eyes still keenly ahead . " nothing's wrong with halloween . must there be ? sometimes things simply aren't that deep . " ricardo's voice is like silk , sliding between topics , words , sentences , oozing confidence he doesn't deserve to have . " firstly , i can talk up anyone . " it's true . when he turns it on , ricardo can REALLY turn it on . he simply chooses not to . " secondly , we're not getting you another drink . you owe me words and i owe me bed . if anything , we're getting you a coffee so you can stay up , preciously tippy - tappying away . "

location : the police station

time : early afternoon, the day after halloween

for : elliot ( @ofmighty )

‘a deputy will see you now.’

it’s a small station. not much real estate to walk but her impatience makes the trek from the lobby down the bland hallway feel like an eternity. they had already spent hours there, hoping to speak to someone who could fill in the gaps that the public was so eager to hear. the victim was alaina price... what else? a wooden door is their destination, fitting in just fine with the unimpressive aesthetic of the old police station. they offer a nod at the receptionist in thanks before carefully opening the door and peeking inside. the first thing they notice is a figure with their back to them, a 'red creek police' patch prominently displayed on the arm of a black jacket. “good afternoon.” they call out, in case the creak of the door was not enough to announce their arrival. “kennedy stuart with the register. thank you for taking the time to—" they are mid-sentence when the familiarity of the person strikes them, stunning them into a surprised pause. "—elliot?"

   ❝ 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 )

FINAL DESTINATION 2000 | dir. James Wong

location : the register

time : early afternoon

for : ricardo( @inadeqcies)

in response to this

it was kennedy’s day off. they had plans to unwind. do some grocery shopping. take themselves out on a date to the movies like they had been meaning to. maybe even try not to think about the murder that had been weighing on their mind since halloween. the last thing on their todo list? a literal manhunt... yet there they were, storming into register, stomping past familiar cubicles and any coworkers that might still be lingering in the area. if anyone had said anything to her, kennedy couldn’t hear them over the blood roaring in her ears. “what—” the door slams behind them as they barge into his office. they knew ricardo was in there—could practically smell his cologne from the moment they walked into the building. intrusive. out of place. like the rest of his presence in redcreek. . “—in the ever-loving fuck—” a copy of the newspaper is slammed on top his desk, the sides wrinkled from where they had dug their nails into it, red ink scattered angrily across the print. almost like a bloodstain. “—were you thinking? quickly.”