#me

"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. ❞

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

  ❝ 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 )

“i’m sure they are fine.” if she’s with taylan then kennedy feels a little better about selin's safety. what were brothers for if not to have some muscle when needed? or to provide a place to crash when the town decides to mandate a curfew all of a sudden? their smile only widens when santiago offers his laptop. "really? yeah, where is it?" it would be a good idea for them to check it out sooner rather than later. to this day, kennedy can’t fathom why he would leave his nursing job to work at a dingy little motel. it felt like such a waste and it was no secret that their parents felt the same way… but they don’t need to remind santiago of that—not tonight, at least. “maybe we should collab sometime. you hand me the fresh gossip and i see if there’s any story to be gained. did you have to sign an nda or anything like that? like, would you be allowed to tell me if someone was having an affair or something?” probably it wouldn't be newsworthy unless it was the mayor or the sheriff but still— “are you happier there?” kennedy can’t help but ask, perhaps against their better judgment.

santiago's question about how they’re doing at the register reminds kennedy of the interaction they had with ricardo earlier that evening. their expression shifts into something more sour. “my boss is about as narcissistic as it gets, which is… interesting, i suppose.” that’s one way to put it. you'd think they'd be used to dealing with them by now. "aside from that, it’s not bad. a little boring, honestly. tonight is probably the most newsworthy thing to happen in... well, 25 years." are they a monster for thinking that? maybe. "the parties in new york are obviously better. you would know if you visited me some time."

⁑ ❝ man versus chair, more like it. ❞ santi huffs, recalling the impossibly fast play - through of events. in all honestly, he may have acted with instinct over intellect, trying to pry the two apart and getting knocked back instead. ❝ don't even really know how that happened— one minute i'm chasin' after taylan & selin, the next i'm knocked flat on my ass. i'm sure she got home safe but it was so— . . . ❞ he puffs air into his cheeks, frustrated he slipped up on his one goal of seeing her get home safe. he tells himself he'll call first thing in the morning. at least kennedy doesn't push back on his offer to stay over; that's one less person he has to worry about falling into the hands of a knife - wielding boogeyman. even if they've never gotten along well, she's still his sister in all the ways that matter.

at the mention of her deadline, he feels a familiar twist of envy in his stomach — his step - sister, the best selling author, their parents are probably so proud. he tries not to dwell tonight. ❝ do you need a laptop ? i've barely touched mine since i graduated but– it probably still works. ❞ ( she might need to leave it plugged in, but still. ) there's the mention of his own work— the clerical position that he finally secured after leaving nursing. extremely dull in comparison. ❝ it's okay. i get to see what all the people in red creek are sneakin' to the motel for, which is fun. no shift tomorrow 'cos i covered the day shift today. ❞ he shrugs it off. ❝ how's workin' in red creek after leaving new york ? y'know . . . repeat of the boogeyman aside. ❞

CLOSER 2004, dir. Mike Nichols

Anyways🤔

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."