Requests — Anonymous Asked — Can You Gif The ‘you’re Not My Type’ ‘we Just Had Sex’ 'if

the silence between is heavy and the house seems to settle within it, wind whistling through the room as if to cut the tension. a shiver runs through them once more, the chill more physical than mental this time. kennedy is hyper-aware of their surroundings. of the dust particles floating in the air, the stray moonlight peeking into the room from poorly boarded-up windows, and kieran talbot. standing as the centerpiece.  illuminated by a warm light, lips parted slightly, a small twitch in his brow, dark eyes trained on them with a reflected caution. he almost looks like a painting. like something they would see in some museum, drawn by an unknown tragic artist, toeing the line between beautiful and unsettling. so kennedy does flinch when kieran moves closer, all instinct, eyes narrowing into daggers— a silent warning.

the mention of their book is unexpected and the wary glare softens into something kennedy can’t quite place, somewhere between amusement and surprise. they were sure that their parents did their best to spread the word about kennedy's achievement around town but they didn’t actually expect anyone care enough to pick up their book. they haven't spoken to anyone about it, not even santiago. so under kieran's mention of it, they suddenly find themselves thinking back on their time in italy.

a small church yet beautifully ornate with stained glass windows depicting idolized saints and dutiful angels. their eyes meeting his— the priest in their story. father caruso. the last murderer they were in a room with as far as they know .  the man who had the whole town wrapped around his finger. kennedy remembers looking around the cathedral, catching glimpses of the people in the pews looking up at him with teary reverence, clinging to his every word.

kieran’s voice pulls them back to the present, directing their attention to the battered bed nearby. sybil thorne’s bed. kennedy’s flashlight follows instinctively, skimming over the surface before snapping back to kieran, unwilling to lose sight of him. they feel disoriented, trapped between two worlds—the cathedral in their memory and the decaying thorne house.

kieran’s words settle in the room like the dust swirling in the faint light. more lamb than butcher. the phrase plays over in their mind, the weight of it heavier than they expect. "yeah?" they finally speak up, canting their head slightly, a slow-growing smile making its way to their features. "so what's a sweet little lamb like you doing out here then? hoping to find a purpose to bleed yourself into?" kennedy wasn’t fully convinced, they would be foolish to be, but they’ve never been the type to look to god or the universe for guidance. their gut was their bible and right now, it’s telling them that the kid who spent years buried in old articles and cold cases might be better used as an asset than dismissed as a suspect. they lower their flashlight some, and perhaps their guard as well. for now at least. "'cus i might just be on the same boat as you. " there's another pause then, only this time it doesn't feel so daunting. "do you think this place is actually haunted?" a sudden ask. they just can't help but shake the feeling that they were being watched. was it paranoia? god?

ꜜ ﹙ ⚰️  ﹚ ﹕ the questions hung heavy in the air for a few moments, met with kieran's silence as the thorne house creaked and groaned with every cold autumn breeze, almost as if the very walls were an audience reacting to this confrontation. he held his stance even against the blinding light of kennedy's flashlight, expression caught somewhere between surprise and something more akin to indignance against the returned accusation. it should be expected ﹕ he probably checked off multiple boxes in some litmus test for serial killers, but allegations felt like smoke sometimes ⸻ it could be suffocating if left unchallenged. he let the silence stretch out between them just for a few more beats, the weight of it pressing down on him like the dust that covered this old rotten place, before finally taking a small step forward. just to see if it would rattle them, just to see if they would flinch, just to see how much kennedy actually believed him to be red creek's newest murderer. then, a smile as he shook his head. “ i read your book, y'know ? great work you did there. but people look at it like it was an exposé on that priest, the oh so terrible things he did to maintain people's faith ... but the way i see it, it's more a revelation of the lies people tell themselves. ” kieran shrugged nonchalantly, casting his light on the bedside table, where sibyl thorne's weathered bible remained after all these years. and he wondered if she believed god would save her son from the misplaced wrath of this town. “ they need something to believe in, something bigger than their own insignificance. faith healing, prayers to some god, a big dose of hope and dopamine from the bible— because to live in a world without that, without the illusion of purpose, of salvation, would be too much. it's easier to believe in that whole weird apocalyptic scifi literature than accept we're just specks of dust drifting in a universe that doesn't really give a damn. ” and finally another step forward, hands raised in feigned surrender. he didn't always say much, sometimes not even enough, but kieran felt an affinity for kennedy ﹕ both of them only trying to make sense of what was happening in their town. “ guess what i'm tryin' to say is, i may not look like it, but i give too much of a damn to be an indifferent killer like this goddamn universe. i'm really just like all those people, ken. more a lamb than a butcher. ” a mess of belief, fighting too hard for meaning to ever be an empty murderer.

  ❝ 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 )

Dmitry: Thanks for agreeing to see me.

Dowager Empress: I didn't. You just walked in here and started talking.

Dmitry: I don't have time for a history lesson.

"are you volunteering?" kennedy asks, nose scrunching playfully in jest. had they been in high school or even back in college maybe it wouldn't have been much of a joke to them but hey! growth. we love to see it. “we look hot – it almost looks like we coordinated this. we’re just missing the hearts sweater jennifer and the white puffer jacket jennifer” they would be too powerful, they fear. avery’s confession earns a slow, impressed smile from kennedy. holy shit – the talbot girl is all grown up!  “really? well... whoever it was deserves a toast in their honor then! wanna go upstairs?" the tables there are much more discreet. less likely to get caught with their own booze up there.

" well , one of us is gonna have to change. " she's joking -- mostly. the two costumes were the same character , from the same movie -- though avery had gone with the cheerleader out. " let's be honest , they're not selling any of the good stuff here but someone -- not naming names -- may have swiped something from my parent's liquor cabinet and placed it in my purse. "

LOCATION  :  redstone  bar

STATUS  :  open  to  everyone!

 NIGHTS  AT  REDSTONE  were  rarely  dull  and  tonight  was  no  exception.  with  a  good  hour  still  left  before  closing,  joey  has already  had  to  throw  a  handful  of  people  out.  everyone  was  on  edge.  the  news  of  kirby's  death  seemed  to  have  lit  a  fire  under  the  town,  sparking  a  desperate  need  to  escape  the  so-called  ‘deadcreek  curse’  that  has  fallen  on  them  again.  was  it  grief  the  town  was  feeling?  fear?  whatever  it  was,  it  was  making  everyone  act  like  idiots—and  it  was  starting  to  piss  joey  off.

“i  need  a  shot.”  she  announces,  pushing  herself  off  the  counter  and  turning  towards  a  stack  of  freshly  cleaned  glasses.  she  picks  one  up,  pauses,  then  glances  over  at  the  figure  on  the  other  side  of  the  bar.  "you  gonna  be  a  prick  and  make  me  take  it  by  myself?"

the sisters of the moon was the only place salvador ever felt remotely out of place in redcreek. the ambiance, the talk of spirituality and divination, crystal balls and fancy tarot cards... it all felt like bullshit to him. there was one thing that did pique his interest however, and it was the babes. nadia, hana, even vicente could get it if salvador ever managed to get a room alone with him. so if pretending to believe in whatever 'witchy' nonsense they represented was the best way to make a pass at any of them, salvador was willing to play along. he sees hana before he notices the card making it's way to him. "hmm totally." he hums back, the corner of his lip twitching in amusement. she was cute when she got excited like that—eyes sparkling with some sort of passion he couldn't quite understand. not anymore. he bends down for the card as well, or at the very least, to help her up. "is the message that you're finally gonna let me take you out sometime?"

📍 sisters of the moon, just before closing. 🗝️ open to five replies.

☾ the small reading room has become something of a second home to hana. the spot was easy to reclaim even after three years away, almost like the universe saved her a seat. at the end of it all, maybe it was exactly where she was meant to fall— a solo stage to hold her audience's attention, tucked into the back corner of sisters of the moon. she cares for the space like her own home, neatly packing every item into its slot at the end of every shift. as she works through the mental chores list today, a card slips from the deck & flutters from the back room. it lands by a familiar silhouette, to which she trails after; moth to a flame. ❝ totally a sign that you needed to be in here today. looks like you just got a message. ❞ she hums, kneeling down to collect the card. there's a cheery glint in her eyes, ❝ wanna know what it says ? ❞

quality advice from jeremy allen white

TEEN WOLF 3.03 Fireflies

kennedy trains their gaze on the slit of the dress, as effie speaks. "that's a shame. i could stitch it up for you, if you'd like. do you work tomorrow?" it's only a halloween dress, so kennedy wouldn't blame effie if she just wanted to throw it away. a soft chuckle escapes them when their words are served right back at them. the two really did seem to share a knack for catching things, a vigilance that was no doubt cultivated by their profession. sometimes, it felt like effie shared every aspect that made kennedy a good writer and then some. the grace in which the blonde carries herself is something kennedy is not used to seeing from her fellow reporters. it's borderline infuriating really. journalists are like vultures after all and what business does a vulture have to pretend like they aren't starving for their next meal? it makes them equal parts intrigue and wary, because they are not fully convinced there isn't something of a darker side wrapped in the picture-perfect image that is effie floyd. even her description of her usual night is so... her.

"well, for a fish out of water, you can move." kennedy says with a smile, allowing themselves to follow effies lead in swaying to the rythm. "okay love. whiskey sours are definitely classy." way more than their preference for tequila sodas. a laugh escapes them at effi's words about her city girl antics. "it isn't my scene. not really. i only indulge in this kind of stuff once in a blue moon. figured my first halloween back in town counted as a special enough occasion" simply put, kennedy just wanted to show off tonight. 'sup, losers i'm back in town and not only am i successful but i also look hot covered in blood haha i win you lose.' "so i take it you weren't much of a party girl back home?"

" did something happen ... " she remembers the split of her dress in an instant. thin, sutured with a quick pin stolen from the bar. " oh, that. ugh, got it caught on someone's spikey belt. i think. " an exasperated sigh. " and you say you can't get anything past me ... look at you. " on the contrary, effie hasn't drank yet. she tries to stray away from the habit. finds being the role of the sober friend at the party to be more fulfilling. though, really, who is she to pass up the offer? the atmosphere here is different than the office, kennedy seems to feel lighter. she'll take it. another show of her good intent in picking at her pieces ; the small criticism. if effie thinks differently of kennedy she'd never voice it unless it becomes a necessity. it hasn't yet.

" my poison is usually a warm blanket and wine at home. i'm kind of a fish out of water here. " she grasps kennedy's hands in a steadying gesture, coaxes her to sway with the beat just a bit. " think ... i'll go with the classic whiskey sour though. classy. " she grasps kennedy's hands in a steadying gesture, coaxes her to sway with the beat just a bit. " but i think ... i'll go with the simple whiskey sour though. real classy. " and that's her personal cue to pull their sway towards the bar. " gotta say, didn't think this was your scene. though i guess i sold you too short as a new york girl, huh ? "