“you Are Just So…” Frustrating. Annoying. Disrespectful. Hurtful. “…typical.” The Detachment

Sabrina the Teenage Witch – 2.15: Finger Lickin' Flu

if yasmine shows discomfort, kennedy does not catch it. too preoccupied with reacting to their comment about the watered-down drinks with a gasp. "do you think so? ugh, of course, they would! think they might be willing to do a better pour if i offer to buy them a drink? with this crowd, they might actually need it."

"always. " gaze drifted to the glass in their hand, nothing more than melted ice. it took everything not to flinch at the touch, but didn't pull back, didn't want to be perceived as strange. "i think they're watering the drinks down for halloween. cheapskates. really i'll hold it against them."

her compromise still threatens to leave vikram outside of his comfort zone but he appreciates her willingness to meet him halfway. he's never particularly felt like he was someone easy to be around—too quiet, too meek, too hesitant. sometimes, he wonders if he is deserving of hana's patience or the gift of her company and as often happens, guilt starts to creep in. surely there are better things, better people for hana to invest her energy in. but then she laughs, and the warmth that radiates from her is enough to melt those pesky fears. the last thing he wants is to diminish her enthusiasm with his lack of it, so he nods, a newfound determination to enjoy the festivities settling into his bones. “deal.” he says, smile obscured by his half mask.

her enthusiasm on his silly suggestion, paired with the reality of their height difference earns a laugh from vikram, nose scrunching slightly in endearment. "oh— that would probably help, wouldn't it?" arms still locked, he begins to bend his knees until they are as close to eye level as they can be. he shakes his head at the mention of her tiktok account. "miss sayoc, sometimes i think you might be the death of me." there's a fondness as he says that because they both know vikram could never say no to her. not fully. "ready?" he asks, eyes darting from the shot back to her.

☾ hana bobs her head in agreement: she's having a perfect night. moving back from los angeles made their hometown seem impossibly dull. but on nights like this, when the town convenes for something fun, she can almost pretend there's a comparison to be made. as expected, his reaction to her nightly chores is as amusing as ever. she laughs. ❝ you'd probably be surprised, but i guess i could rework the to - do list for you. let's say ... a dance, three drinks minimum, annnnd– no bailing until at least 12:30 ? ❞

an excited hum of approval leaves her at his suggestion. ❝ ooohh, you are so smart ! ❞ hana cheers, instantaneously moving to link their arms together. their heights make it look a little impractical. ❝ —you might have to bend down just a little, so we don't spill everywhere. ❞ just to tease him a little further, she adds, ❝ next one's going on tiktok for sure. ❞

it had been years since kennedy last stepped foot in the thorne house. nostalgic and new all at once,  pictures tucked inside smashed frames, their spot on the wall replaced by old graffiti.  murderer. burn in hell. boogeyman. so and so was here. the house had been around too long, access made all too easy for the town’s angsty youths and wannabe detectives. the chances of kennedy finding anything of note were practically slim to none but unfortunately for them, this was the only lead they had. the past thirty minutes had been spent digging through the drawers of a beat-up dresser, only to come up empty. “really fucking did a number on this place ” they mumble under their breath. the house creaks in response as if to share their sentiment. on to the next room,  kennedy was beginning to feel ill-prepared for this endeavor, having only brought a flashlight and their phone, which they had been using to record from the moment they entered the house. handy for snapping photos and collecting thoughts.  “check county records to see if jacob thorne owned any property other than — fuck!.” 

the assault of yellow light landing directly in their line of vision makes kennedy stumble back a bit, a hand instinctively rising to shield their face. they hear him before they can see him and while it only takes them a second it takes them to adjust to the added source of light, it’s a second too long. his words cause kennedy’s face to pinch further, confusion lingering for a second before recognition hits. a killer who deflects—of course he would. it’s a bluff, and kennedy is quick to clock it, straightening their posture while ( bravely )  clinging to the wall.  a small laugh escapes them, humor masking the adrenaline still pumping in her veins.  “from cold case enthusiast to hot-blooded killer—how does that sound for a headline?” ever so critical of their own work, kennedy mentally answers their own question with ‘you can do better’. still, not a bad start. “did you come here to feel inspired, kieran?” they ask, their own flashlight trained directly on his person, steady despite their shivering breath. it makes his height look that much more imposing, serving as a reminder that the chances of him being stronger and faster than her are uncomfortably high. they want to look around, to find an exit that wouldn’t require them to just run out the front door or jump out of the second-story window but they refuse to let their guard down… just in case. the room is perfectly still as the two stand off. "you always did have a fascination for the macabre, didn't you?"

…                      he had been here a thousand times before, a place for solace and rumination, for youthful rendezvous and misdeeds. here, he smoked his first cigarette with taylan and thought of himself as some kind of anarchist for tarring his lungs. here, he tried to speak with the ghost of jacob thorne, trying to understand him with every mark of growth on the door frame, every old photo abandoned, and every tall tale unburied. it was a place filled with ghosts, though nothing could harm him here. but with alaina price disemboweled, her organs bagged and sewn back in, thorne house now felt like an ancient beast disturbed ⸻ spreading its teeth and devouring him, gnawing on his autonomous nervous system until all his synapses could relay would be pastpresentpastpresent. it must all be connected somehow, and kieran couldn't think of another place the boogeyman could have gone after slipping away from his sight. so he searched and searched and searched for some trace, the beam of his flashlight cutting through the dust-cloaked darkness of sybil thorne's room. the house felt more alive than ever, but kieran did not flinch when he heard the creaking floorboards the first time, only natural for old houses like this to breathe every now and then. but then he heard it again, closer this time, his body tensing as he was reminded that the ghost he chased was more flesh than memory. and at the indication of the third time, the beginning of a drawn-out groan of wood shifting under pressure behind him, kieran immediately pivoted ⸻ flashlight slicing through the darkness, illuminating another trespasser. he expected a knife, he expected a mask, but the absence did not necessarily mean innocence either. “ huh ... ” he began, heart slowing into a more deliberate rhythm, probably should known that he wouldn't be the only trying to find answers here. “ i didn't expect the boogeyman to be just some journalist trying to create her own headlines. ” he deadpanned, a half-joke, a half-accusation, head canted to watch kennedy with wary fascination. @brntout

MARIA 2024 | Dir. Pablo Larraín

RYAN DESTINY via tiktok

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."

vikram shah ​🇹​​🇭​​🇪​ ​🇵​​🇭​​🇦​​🇳​​🇹​​🇴​​🇲​ makes an appearance @ the warehouse, this halloween!

"you know i was trying to flirt?" vikram is totally butchering this. it's painfully obvious he doesn't do this often. a mental note is made to run this scenario by his therapist next time he sees them. 'i approached this lady but she thought i was flirting and i was not, not flirting but she called me out and i made it awkward. so how do i do that better next time?' something like that. "to be fair... it was a good hiding place. i don't think anyone would have thought to look down there." he wipes whatever debris was left on his knee from bending down, a chuckle escaping them once more at kirby's words. to think that the phantom's sins could be washed away by finding someone their candy bucket is nothing short of amusing. "i'm glad i could help." he looks around, noticing they’ve wandered onto one of the less populated streets. "can i walk you home? or... back to the main road, maybe?"

was  her  flirting  off  ?  no  ,  she  was  good  at  this  ,  so  good  she  did  it  on  accident  sometimes  even  .  “  i  know  you  were  ,  i  was  trying  to  -  ah  ,  forget  about  it  .  ”  she  followed  him  ,  a  dumb  move  to  follow  a  masked  man  but  he  was  looking  for  her  pumpkin  and  that  made  him  a  halfway  decent  guy  in  her  book  .  “  oh  great  ,  holy  shit  ,  why  did  i  put  it  under  a  car  ?  ”  she  racks  her  brain  trying  to  make  sense  of  the  rationale  there  .  what  if  the  person  whose  car  it  was  decided  to  back  up  over  her  candy  or  just  drove  off  ?  was  she  as  smart  as  she  thought  she  was  ?  clearly  the  fuck  not  .  “  thank  you  so  much  ,  i  was  gonna  spend  the  whole  night  just  moping  around  my  apartment  ,  wishing  i  had  a  fuckin'  snickers  or  something  .  see  ,  the  phantom  was  the  good  guy  all  along  !  ”