"a Pony?" That Makes Them Chuckle, Amused By Nadia's Imagination. They Shift Their Gaze Past Her, Scanning

My dad, he’s like, a financial planner. And I think he’s in trouble.

THE OC (2003-2007) 1.02 | The Model House

High School Musical 2 2007 | dir. Kenny Ortega

vikram makes no move to interrupt her rambling about what she lost. instead, he nods now that he understands what's truly at stake.  “i see.” he can't relate to the attachment kirby holds for her candy but he can respect that it matters to her that the bucket be recovered and that's enough. her question earns a bashful head dip and a chuckle from him, clearly flattered that she got the reference he was going for. maybe his costume isn't all that bad. “depends - are you going to kill me if i bring you back to my place?” he replies back with a smile, half concealed by the mask. jennifer check and the phantom... now there's a crazy combo! “okay then. you think you hid them down here?" he pulls out his phone and activates the flashlight before lowering to his knee and bending down to check under the cars beside them. “nothing here... are you sure you left it on this side of the street?”

god  ,  every  single  part  of  her  wants  to  sing  out  “  the  phantom  of  the  opera  is  here  ”  at  this  exact  given  moment  .  gerard  butler  amiright  ?  she  peers  down  at  the  cape  that  is  swishing  behind  him  and  raises  an  eyebrow  .  “  it's  a  pumpkin  container  filled  with  candy  .  i  left  it  somewhere  out  here  but  i  cannot  fuckin'  remember  where  and  i  was  in  the  ‘burbs  so  most  of  those  are  full  sized  candy  bars  .  ”  she  shuts  up  for  a  moment  ,  recognizing  that  her  incessant  rambling  about  her  love  for  the  ’  good  ‘  halloween  candy  matters  very  little  to  other  people  ,  actually  .  “  are  you  gonna  put  me  in  a  boat  and  row  me  through  a  shockingly  expansive  sewer  system  ?  ”  she  couldn’t  help  herself  ,  she  had  to  get  one  good  one  in  .

  ❝ 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 )

the shock of the impact jerks their shoulder back, causing them to stumble against the wall. it's was a narrow hallway, clearly not meant for much traffic. “ow!” a hand shoots up at her own shoulder, fingers clutching at it like she received a mortal wound. damon retreats like a wounded dog but kennedy? kennedy bears her teeth like a feral cat. “fuck off!” her hand now balling into a fist, fully intent on striking if he moves closer. it’s reflexive — her body reads his frantic movements as a threat before her mind processes the apology spewing from him.

there’s a tense pause between them in which kennedy’s glare slowly morphs into a look of recognition — and concern.  “damon? oh my god, are you okay?” obviously not, kennedy! they are about to approach him to when another body bulldozes between them, this one not so keen on apologizing and it serves as a reminder that there are still people out there frantic and maybe some itching to start another fight.  they turn towards the figure leaving, catching a door just up the hallway with the worn out 'employees only' plaque. "there's probably a first aid kit in there. do you want to check?" and in case there is room to hesitate, they add, "you're looking god awful right now, d."

FOR : open, come on in ! LOCATION : redstone bathroom ( or just coming out of it for accessibility ) TIMESTAMP : 2:43am

" great fucking job, damon. hilarious, really ! why not start a fight on the night someone's fucking murdered. genius ! " loud nonsense from a split - opened mouth. they're not speaking to anyone in particular, but their own reflection in the dirty mirror. they're not sure how bad they look, but they're definitely going to feel it in the morning. head, swimming. knuckles, aching. " gonna have a blackeye ... christ. " they smack their own face just to feel the sting. spring themselves from the disorientation of adrenaline and mixture of alcohol.

this is their cue to stop mulling and find a place to sit until the crowd settles down. slip away with an opening. otherwise, who could say they wouldn't start another fight? with their unsteady movements ... a threat of this already appears. shoulders knock into someone and they're immediately scrambling back like a wild animal. " shit — " their hands move in a sporadic manner of surrender. palms up, moving around in a circle in front of them. " sorry. i'm sorry — not trying to start anything else. swear it. "

while micaela studies her wine, vikram keeps his gaze on her. solely on her. he doesn’t rush to fill the spaces she leaves open, doesn’t move to urge her to speak again. never one to push for someone to reveal more of themselves than what they were comfortable with. when her eyes finally lift to meet his, he offers a small, almost imperceptible smile—not cheerful, not trying to fix anything. just there. present. he holds her gaze, something he normally struggles with, but not in moments like this. not with her. he takes notice of how the candlelight further softens her features, adding warmth to her mournful eyes. it's beautiful. it's devastating.

vikram has seen grief in every form—raw, quiet, angry, numb—a tangled mix of it all. he’s seen how it hollows people out. how losing someone also meant burying fragments of yourself with them. mourning both the past and the future. memories lost and never gained. “grief doesn’t have a handbook,” he says, his voice quiet, steady. “not really. there are tips, things to try, stories from people who’ve been through it so you don’t feel so alone... but a guide?” he shakes his head slowly, “it’s too layered for that. it doesn’t follow rules, doesn’t care about time or logic. one moment, it lets you breathe, the other it just... knocks the wind out of you. that doesn’t mean you’re doing it wrong.” he shifts forward slightly, his hands resting lightly on the table, his voice dipping lower, gentler. “it’s okay not to know what to do with it mic. really. sometimes, just feeling it—letting yourself feel it—is enough.” if there is anything he can offer micaela, it's the affirmation that she is doing her best and that he sees it. "—and if i can be someone to help you carry it, micaela. i would gladly do it." he hopes she knows that.

𝖯𝖫𝖠𝖢𝖤   :   lakeside   grill. 𝖶𝖨𝖳𝖧   :   vikram   shah,   @brntout.

               micaela   stared   into   her   glass,   watching   the   light   from   the   candle   flicker,   the   soft   glow   bouncing   off   the   red   wine.   she   let   her   fingers   trace   the   rim,   trying   to   focus   on   the   rhythm   of   the   motion,   anything   to   distract   her   from   the   heaviness   of   the   conversation,   the   burden   of   the   grief   she   carried   so   quietly.   she   hadn’t   expected   it   to   feel   like   this   ┈   so   easy   to   let   her   guard   down,   so   easy   to   be   honest.   with   everyone   else,   she   had   to   keep   the   walls   up.   she   had   to   keep   moving   forward,   smiling,   pretending   everything   was   fine.   but   with   vikram,   it   felt   like   the   air   was   different.   it   was   like   he   understood,   even   when   she   didn’t   say   a   word.   his   silence   wasn’t   uncomfortable,   it   was   ...   safe.   she   didn’t   have   to   fill   it   with   explanations   or   forced   words.   for   the   first   time   in   so   long,   she   didn’t   have   to   fake   anything.                her   eyes   flicked   up   at   him,   his   calm   presence   holding   her   steady.   “   i   still   can’t   believe   she’s   gone,   ”   she   said   quietly,   the   words   heavy   on   her   tongue.   she   felt   her   breath   catch,   but   there   was   a   strange   comfort   in   just   saying   it   out   loud.   “   some   days,   it   doesn’t   feel   real,   ”   she   continued,   her   voice   faltering,   a   lump   in   her   throat   she   couldn’t   swallow.   “   and   other   days,   it   feels   like   everything’s   too   much   to   bear.   ”   the   words   were   raw,   but   they   didn’t   feel   like   they   were   ripping   her   open   the   way   they   did   when   she   kept   them   locked   away.   she   thought   about   the   days   since   her   mom’s   death,   all   the   days   she’d   carried   it   alone,   trying   to   be   strong,   to   keep   it   together   for   everyone   else.   and   now,   with   vikram,   she   didn’t   have   to.   she   realized   she   hadn’t   allowed   herself   to   truly   feel   it,   not   until   now.   she   wasn’t   sure   if   it   was   his   quiet   understanding   or   the   fact   that   he   didn’t   expect   her   to   have   the   answers,   but   she   suddenly   felt   the   freedom   to   just   ...   be.   “   i   don’t   know   what   to   do   with   all   of   it,   ”   she   murmured,   her   voice   barely   above   a   whisper,   her   gaze   dropping   back   to   her   wine.   “   but   i   think   i’m   learning   that   it’s   okay   to   let   someone   else   carry   some   of   it,   even   if   just   for   a   little   while.   ”

CLOSER 2004, dir. Mike Nichols

redcreek was a small town, which meant running into him was practically inevitable, she just didn’t expect it to happen like this. inside the grim little police station, with elliot wearing a uniform they never once envisioned him in. "sorry." they dip their head with a small laugh, realizing they were hovering by the door for a moment too long, "i didn't expect to see you here. wow. deputy mayers, huh? you always were...full of surprises." the words spill out before they could stop them, a poor attempt to defuse the tension, to break the awkwardness that had already started building.

fuck, they knew they should have prepared for this. done their due diligence of unblocking him on social media to check up on his life the moment they made it back to town. now they're they were, blindsided by the sight of him. stuck between two worlds— getting down to business or slipping into memory lane. their gaze flickers to his left hand, instinctively searching for the answer to their most pressing question... had he found someone to give him what kennedy couldn't? he isn't wearing a ring, but that's not enough to give a solid answer. they quickly shift to his badge, needing something professional to anchor themselves to.

kennedy finally sits down, their back straight, a practiced composure taking over as they pull the journal from their bag. "right. alaina price." they pause. the room felt smaller now. they want to think ahead, to push past the unease in the room, but their thoughts keep drifting back to the past. to elliot. "look," kennedy sighs, allowing themselves the momentary lapse in focus. "i’m not here for… anything personal. i just need information on alaina." they aren't sure why they're even telling him this. "i know you can’t share everything right now, but anything would help. the town’s already asking questions, elliot. starting rumors. they need something to hold them over." her words hung in the air, heavy and pointed, as she searched his face for any crack that might offer a clue, a sign of what he was willing—or able—to say. it wasn’t just about the case anymore. she knew that. but right now, it had to be.

IT'S REALLY NO SURPRISE that the moment elliot comes back from his coffee break, he's nearly accosted by the office secretary barreling through his door. there's someone from the press here, and the sheriff is out, she tells him. can i bring her in ? elliot figured they both knew that demetrius probably didn't want anyone in the office speaking to press without him—least of all elliot—but he's been on the job long enough to know the answer to give : no comment at this time. " fine, " he sighs. he's sipping his coffee when there's a knock at his opened door, eyes glancing over the coffee cup as he finishes his sip—and chokes on his drink. " kennedy. " oh, fuck. he'd been doing so well not running into her, and now here she is, looking like this is the last place she expected him. at least right now, the feeling is mutual.

coffee on the table, he finds himself standing out of his chair, a jolt of adrenaline hitting him harder than the caffeine so far has. " um, take a seat, " he motions to the chair in front of his desk, suddenly unsure what to do with his hands. fuck, his uniform has never felt two sizes too big until now—not even when demetrius is giving him one of his deep sighs. " what can i do for you ? " he asks once she's sat, hesitantly sitting back down as well. maybe talking business is the way to get through this moment.

Yeo-reum & Ahn Dae-beom 1.08 |  Summer Strike