The   two   painted   an   amusing   contrast   against   the   sterile   backdrop 

"WELL SHIT ─  i  don't  know.  let  me  get  a  good  look  at  you."  it's  not  the  smartest  move  to  remove  her  sunglasses  with  the  hangover  she  was  currently  battling,  but  joey  will  do  anything  for  a  bit.  a  bloodshot  and  squinted  gaze  lands  on  carlos,  taking  a  moment  to  analyze  him  before  offering  a  slow  nod.  "oh  yeah.  you're  fucked,  kid.  got  a  big  ol'  target  on  that  pretty  forehead  of  yours.  you  better  watch  yourself  out  there  .  .  .   would  hate  to  be  down  an  act."  with  that,  she  places  her  sunglasses  over  matted  curls,  now  fixing  her  eyes  on  the  lake  before  them.  “you  know  what?  i  think  you  might  be  on  to  something.  whoever  is  responsible  for  this  has  got  to  be  a  real  nasty  son  of  a  bitch.”  and  ugly.  down  to  their  very  fuckin'  core.  “ so . . . is  this  everything  you  hoped  for  when  moving  to  this  shitty  little  town?"

𝘄𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲.　deer lake, late afternoon on the day of kirby's death. 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵.　anyone! ( capping at five replies. )

〔　🐿️　〕　　...　　“  𝗱𝗮𝗺𝗻,  𝘄𝗵𝘆  𝗶𝘀  𝗶𝘁  𝗮𝗹𝘄𝗮𝘆𝘀  𝘁𝗵𝗲  𝗵𝗼𝘁𝘁𝗶𝗲𝘀  𝘄𝗵𝗼  𝗱𝗶𝗲?  ”  carlos  remarks,  a  plume  of  smoke  from  their  cigarette  and  the  cold  air  escaping  their  lips  with  every  word.  he didn't know the girl well, if at all, really, but it's all anyone could talk about today and if he didn't bring it up, it would be a little weird. it  isn't  that  he  doesn't  care  —  of  course,  the  whole  situation  is  unsettling  and  there's  a  inkling  perturbation  that  swirls  within  them  at  the  notion  of  a  killer  on  the  loose in such a small town,  but  it  seems  easier  to  pretend  that  this  is  all  one  big  joke  than  have  to  face  the  reality  of  it. it's all he can do.  “  is  this  guy  fucking  ugly  or  something?  are  they  trying  to  reverse  pretty  privilege?  should  i  have  to  watch  out?  ”

the mention of santiago makes kennedy visibly cringe, nose scrunching in distaste as they shake their head. “no, thank god! do you think i would be able to show my face around town if i knew my brother was one of those losers? it's giving 'wheres my hug?'" kennedy lowers the octave of their voice to imitate what a man would so i don’t even know if he’s like, dating. maybe he should be.” perhaps a crush would give santiago some of the motivation that kennedy worries he sometimes lacks. “you don’t have any friends from other towns that you could... i don’t know, introduce him or something?” it's a silly question, one that they don't actually expect nadia to humor.

fingertips press against their own throat as they down the drink, a small grunt escaping them as they do so. "eugh, i think i just grew a chest hair." kennedy is biting into the flesh of a lime wedge when nadia asks her question, one that makes them fix their posture a bit. "of course. i didn't come back to town to settle down here or anything if that's what you're wondering. this is just, temporary. you know, while i figure out what to write next." kennedy isn't certain why they feel the need to explain themselves but they do. maybe it's to claw onto any superiority they might feel at the fact that they did it. in a town of wasted potential and unfulfilled dreams, ken made it out. "what about you?"

nadia pulls a face at the idea of tinder . and dating . and dating anyone in this town . it all feels too incestuous for her . " that makes two of us . " she agrees . " you have to tell me which redcreekian had ' searching for tinderella ' on their profile . was it santi ? please say it was santi . " the amount of shit she'll give him will TRIPLE . nadia barks out a laugh , loud and unceremonious . the bartender gives them another look but nadia is done paying him any mind . she raises her shot glass to kennedy before pressing it to her lips and downing the substance . immediately , it burns . nadia winces slightly but she's WELL VERSED with shots by now . " fucking CHEERS . " she rasps out , nodding . nadia looks around the bar , the crowded space , the familiar faces . " do you ever think about leaving redcreek ? " she doesn't know where the sudden question comes from , but it rips out of her from somewhere deep and unfounded .

under normal circumstances, the sight of a bustling redstone would have made vikram turn on his heels and find somewhere else to waste the hours away but nothing about today felt normal and it seemed like the whole town shared his sentiment in looking for a distraction from why. an audibly relieved sigh escapes him when he hears emilia's offer and he quickly makes his way over before someone else beats him to it. "thank you." he says, sinking into the seat beside her. "i thought i was going to stand there forever," only a partial joke. he would have sooner given up and headed home before pushing his way through the line of people. her comment about how depressing it is to drink alone earns a soft laugh from him. "that's actually what i do most nights." he admits, head casting down in a sheepish smile. "it's not too bad when you uh, just want to catch a game or make small talk with people. i usually go for a beer but—" he looks at the glass she just emptied. "—what were you having? looked strong." maybe he could use a bit of that today.

date : november first, around 9pm

location : redstone bar

for : open starter

" THIS SEAT'S OPEN, " she calls to someone, after taking a few heartbeats to watch the person standing struggle with finding a place at the bar to sit. the pub was surprisingly busy considering the news ; when emilia had headed towards the redstone bar after her shift at the diner, she thought for sure she'd be the only one here. as it was, she wasn't sure why she had to work a diner shift today anyway—shouldn't the murder of a townsperson, i don't know, mean some kind of town-wide day off ? but it was for the best, because if the diner closed, then the bar surely would be... and right now the only thing keeping her sane was the drink in her hand. her second of the past forty or so minutes. knocking the remains of her drink back, she motions to call over a bartender. " c'mon, what are you having ? it's kinda depressing drinking alone. " and right now, red creek was nothing if not depressing.

nadia's reaction is met with a full body laugh as kennedy lazily tries escape her push to no actual success. "nadia, you couldn't pay me to download tinder in this town. it would be a disaster! we practically know everyone and like, me personally? i don't think i would be able to look at someone in the eyes again if i found out they had 'searching for my tinderella' on their bio." even the hypothetical is enough to run a shiver up their spine. a smile adorns kennedy's features at nadia's promise to carry them home because, despite the younger woman's habit of carrying herself like she doesn't have a care in the world, there is something about her that makes kennedy believe that they would be safe with her. nadia be the killer reveal now! "i'm going to hold you to that." they say, lowering their chin slightly to add a splash of a warning there. kennedy regards the bartender's suspicion with a innocent smile. they're not drunk, sir, just buzzed off nadia's electricity. "are you kidding? cheers to being the two hottest bitches in this joint!" DUH

NADIA ABSOLUTELY GRIMACES at the person in the horse outfit . " they're the ass - end of the horse , too . even worse . " she shakes her head , reaching out to gently shove kennedy , embracing the TEASING nature of it all . " no date for you , either , though , huh ? since when did we become such luddites ? " nadia knows , actually . it's been a LONG - ASS time . " hey , if you're allowed to force me out here tonight , i'm equally allowed to get you a shot . " it's an easy twist of the arm , kennedy caving after the obligatory faux-outrage . it's a necessary but known dance . " i'd carry you anywhere, babe . " she replies easily . " but tequila it is . " she flashes two fingers up to the bartender who eyes both of them suspiciously before pouring the shots in question . naomi takes her , already splashing some of it out of the shot glass and onto her hand . OH WELL . " cheers to . . . what ? "

SALVADOR  IS  NOT  SHY  about  the  look-over  he  gives  francis  the  moment  he  walks  in.  more  curious  than  anything.  with  how  slow  the  night  has  been,  salva  finds  himself  grateful  for  the  new  face,  even  one  sporting  a  hairstyle  that  simply  screams  daddy’s (or  mommy’s!) money.  a  look  around  the  room,  realizing  the  waitress  who  was  scheduled  to  be  with  him  was  nowhere  in  sight.  typical  for  this  time  of  shift.  salvador  himself  was  known  to  disappear  for  periods  at  a  time,  usually  to  take  an  unnecessarily  long  smoke  break  or  to  talk  someone  up.  anything  to  stop  the  night  from  dragging.  with  a  sigh,  he  makes  his  way  over,  grabbing  a  grease-stained  ticket  book  and  plucking  the  pen  he  had  tucked  behind  his  ear.  the  click  sounds  louder  than  it  should  in  the  empty  diner,  but  salva  pays  it  no  mind.  that,  and  an  expectant  look  are  the  closest  thing  to  a  greeting  he’s  going  to  give. 

  “what  i  recommend  might  depend  on  a  couple  of  things.  how  hungry  are  we  talking…  boss?”  a  pointed  pause  to  emphasize  the  disadvantage  the  stranger  has  found  him  in—  only  one  of  them  was  wearing  a  name  tag.  that’s  fine.  salvador  was  never  good  with  names  anyways.  much  better  at  remembering  faces.  particularly  when  they  were  as  nice  to  look  at  as  his.  or  the  one  he  was  tapping  at. bronte’s.  salvador  hasn’t  even  read  the  article.  doesn’t  feel  like  he  needs  to,  not  when  it’s  all  everyone  has  been  talking  about  recently.  even  now  as  he  takes  a  proper  look  at  the  article,  all  he  can  really  bring  himself  to  care  about  is  how  hot  the  brunette  looks.  all  pissed  off  and  indignant. 

“yeah,  i  guess.”  he  replies  with  a  shrug,  INDIFFERENT.  “i  just  think  it’s  kind  of  fucking  weird  that  some  prick  took  a  picture  of  the  whole  thing.”  is  nothing  sacred  anymore?  can  lovers  not  quarrel  in  peace?  the  quip  on  her  affinity  for  pegging  makes  salvador  grin,  amusement  slowly  blooming  under  relaxed  features.  “id  say  she  was  into  it  just  as  much  as  any  girl  should  be.” which  is  a  lot,  in  his  very  humble  opinion.  “i  can  give  you  her  number  -  if  you  want  it.  pretty  boy  like  you…   think  you  might  just  be  her  TYPE.”   the  corner  of  his  lip  twitches  upwards,   “might  come  at  the  price  of  your  life  but  hey—  with  a  face  like  that  she  would  be  entitled  to  it,  right?  hot  privilege  and  all  that.”  salvador  knows  a  thing  or  two  about  that.  “so  –  what’s  your  deal?  abercrombie  and  fitch  don’t  pay  enough,  so  you  had  to  take  up  trucking  as  a  side  gig?”  absolutely  nothing  about  him  screamed  trucker,  but  that  was  simply  what  salvador  was  used  to  seeing  at  this  time  of  night. 

ꜜ ﹙ 💳  ﹚ ﹕ there was no real reason to be here aside from the fact that it was only place open in the dead of night, when sleep was an impossible dream in a sprawling lakehouse that felt suffocating⸻ its emptiness pressing down on him and his loneliness. at least here at dolly's, the hum of the old lights buzzed louder than his more dreadful thoughts, place nearly empty, save for a trucker nursing a coffee and a line cook that looked like he should be a nude calendar model instead of flipping patties. he definitely looked like a march or april kind of guy, too pretty not to be a sleazy womanizer, and so people must be hiding their eggs from him like it's easter. practice safe sex and all. he seemed fun, at least. but those were just the intrusive thoughts that invaded francis' head as he stared at the cook instead of coming up with what he wanted to order. he leaned forward, arms resting on the counter, eyes tracing the other man's nametag before looking into his eyes. “ i'll just have whatever you recommend, salvador. ” he clicked his tongue and smiled, before attention drifted to the abandoned newspaper on the counter. the article on the front page wasn't exactly what he expected from the local press ﹕ but it sure was entertaining, albeit a little disappointing that the mystery might be over when he only just got here to see how he'd fare against a sharp knife. francis tapped the photo over and over and over until he got the line cook's attention again, a low chuckle echoing faintly in the empty diner. “ this girl— they think she has something to do with the other one going missing ? i mean, she's got a face that looks like she's a little too into pegging. but hell, with a face like that, she should be able to have whatever she goddamn wants. murder included. ” @brntout

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

TEEN WOLF 3.03 Fireflies

"UH,  HARD  DISARGEE."  kennedy  is  quick  to  refute.  they  always  found  smoking  to  be  a  nasty  habit,  convinced  it was something  only  a  masochist  would  enjoy.  they  tried  once  in  college,  shortly  after  starting  their  internship because they figured  it  would  make  them  look  and  feel   more  grown  up  in  the  room  full  of  journalistic  big-shots.  men  who  took  their  jobs  and  themselves  WAY  too  seriously.  smoking  might  not  have  stuck  with  kennedy  but  the  underlying  pretentiousness  that  came  from  it?  that  was  still  up  for  debate.   "chicken  and  waffles  with  a  side  of  lung  infection  does  not  sound  like  an  appetizing  combo  to  me."  now settled in the stool, they  turn  their  head  to  witness  the  full  display  of  soren's  theatrics,  elbows  propped  on  the  bar  in  front  of  them.  they  observe  him  carefully,  making  no  move  to  interrupt  his  performance.  a  respectful  audience,  one  that  makes  sure  to  wait  the customary  extra  beat  to  ensure  the  show  is  over  before  offering  their  reaction.  “wow."  there's  a  hint  of  a  smile  there,  perhaps  the  closest  they  have  come  since  the  news  of  the  recently  departed  –  or  rather  – recently  SNATCHED.  they  lean  ever  so  slightly  in  his  direction,  nose  scrunching  up  as if they are about to deliver some harsh news. "sounds  to  me  like  you  might just have a  little bit of an addiction there.”

location: dolly's diner time: late afternoon status: open!

something about diners. greasy leather seats. overheard secrets tangled up with the clatter of forks. bitter, often stale coffee -- unless you got lucky enough to walk in when the place was mostly empty. unlikely. the kind of place where time hangs heavy, like it got tired and sat down to rest in the corner booth. red creek felt the same, like it had long surrendered to time’s weight instead of running alongside it. no reinvention, no salvation -- just a stubborn place clinging to people like mud after rain, or maybe quicksand, tugging until they sank without a fight. soren didn't have to imagine dark things haunting its bones when its effect where already laying there, sprawled out for anyone willing to see. maybe ancient spirits seeking revenge after having their forever homes suffocated with asphalt and cement. maybe nothing at all, just the weight of a town folding in on itself, vanishing into a fog you didn’t know you’d entered until it was too late. soren wouldn't flinch if someone shattered the silence with a lynchian scream -- sinister close-ups, faces trembling under the pressure of things better left unsaid -- right there in the diner, right as he staed at his gone stale coffee. and perhaps it was his obsession with intricate stories that blurred the line with reality, but twin peaks really didn't feel like fiction anymore; it was a blueprint, a warning for places like this, where the mundane teetered on the edge of surreal, where time sagged, like peeling wallpaper in a room sealed off for too long, and good people stumbled into band endings. even diners -- those greasy churches of familiarity -- could warp into confessional booths. soren let his face fall into his hands, elbows propped at the sides of the cup of coffee. if it had been steaming, it would've made a perfect shot. “ you know what's bullshit, ” he spoke as soon as he felt a presence next to him finally glad to push his inner monologue onto someone else, anyone unlucky enough to hear. he continued as his hands dropped to his lap, revealing a face worn thin by restless nights. “ the fact that they made it illegal to smoke in public places. especially diners. ” though it wasn't just diners. it was also cinemas, trains, pubs.... a beat. then two fingers lifted to his lips, mimicking the pitch of a cigarette between index and thumb. soren inhaled theatrically, face tilting upward as though savoring the hit. then, just as theatrically, he ground the phantom amber into an imaginary glass ashtray, the kind with ornate edges. clock. sound design coming from his tongue against his palate and he swat the phantom ashtray away, still dipped in his interactive daydream.

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."