DAPHNE BLAKE, Played By The Journalist Herself . . . Effie Floyd ! Coming To A Red Creek Halloween Party

" well, lets think the lucky stars for that. " effie comments towards the final girl material. it's probably best to not take too many nods from a screenplay. though, at least, it seems savannah's self-aware of the type of person she is. effie's sure she probably isn't either, but she isn't going to imagine herself in that situation. unnecessary anxiety— and the night sure has had enough of that for everyone. " yeah, lets take a minute. you look a bit frazzled. how about a quick chat and then we can go on about our way, yeah? i know getting out the door was a disaster. "

she takes a brief puff, turning her head to the side to blow it out. " what'd you think of the party, you know, before it all came crashing down? " effie wasn't the best at small talk, but thinks savannah might need it. looked a bit like a deflated balloon ... like everyone else that was enjoying their night off. " definitely could've had better music this year, i think. "

Savannah was a little bummed over the party having to be cut short so out of the blue, only being able to mingle for a little bit. While everyone was being told to evacuate, the young woman finds herself feeling shoved out from the main doors, stumbling slightly, being elbowed by the rest of the crowd.

Fumbling for her phone in her bag, she raises a brow to the other who was nearby. "Uh yeah, this does kind of blow," she admitted with a sigh. Having spent so much time on her hair and makeup, she didn't want the night to end quite yet. "I'm not really sure what's going on, but might be better to use the buddy system? Not sure if I'm final girl material....", she confesses.

" clearly those melodramatic fucking monologues still get your attention. " words are accompanied by a laugh. sure, they'd noticed the guitarist doing what he does best up on the bar's stage. strumming like there's something to lose in the strings vibrations. hard not to, given history. given damon's insistence on knowing who he was in the room with. the expression on his face shows he doesn't mind finch's appearance, but the scrunch of his nose shows he minds their tab. the snagged bottle didn't even receive that much attention. " and you're still getting me to pay for your drinks. shit just don't change. " and it never seems to. if one day the sky dusted in technicolor, letting off sparks ... maybe they'd view red creek in a different light. the corner of their mouth twitches in a smirk towards the roaming gaze— their own sharp gaze fliting towards a covered hipbone. acknowledgement. a ' F ' and a ' D '. always some sort of reminder they both were here. " well, finny, ain't that the question? what haven't i fucking done? " two fingers tap against the wood of the bar. they mimic the rhythm strummed on the bass just moments ago ; the thing that countered the slight tension in the atmosphere. maybe that was just damon's, though. anxiety they'd briefly exposed with that dramatic fucking monologue. they'll stick to biting their tongue again. damon doesn't offer a toast, but their newly opened bottle clinks against finch's with a satisfying noise. they take a moment to continue, swallowing down a long drink. just for those melodramatics finch loved to point out.

" got into a fight right where we're sitting and you'll never guess when ... fucking murder night. halloween homicide. " tattooed hand with the bottle lifts to slice a finger across their own neck, " talk about bad timing, but looks like i've skeeved my way past the consequences of my actions. " their body leans just slightly closer. it isn't enough to breach personal space, but enough to prove attention is zeroed in on the younger man. beer released and rested on a coaster in favor of leaning against their own arms. " what kinda shit you been into lately, huh? "

*    ❪   🦇   ❫    ﹕ 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲'𝘀 𝗮   𝗰𝗹𝗮𝗽   𝗼𝗳   𝗵𝗮𝗻𝗱𝘀   𝗼𝗻   𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻   𝘀𝗵𝗼𝘂𝗹𝗱𝗲𝗿   𝗯𝗹𝗮𝗱𝗲𝘀   in a job well done as   he worms  his way  through   the   crowd,   guitar   strapped   against   his   back   in   an   embellished   shield   for   the   A/C   that   threatens   to   dry   him   up   like   an   orange   peel.   metal   strings   are   splattered   with   the   blood   that   seeps   through   the   bandages   pasted   erratically   on   each   slim,   boney   digit.  ❛ what   the  fuck   are   you  even  chatting about ? ❜  he interjects, icy hues glancing over at the older man. a   familiar   face   that   usually   serves   to   spark   an   irritable   flame,   but   the   stench   of   violent   forthcomings   demands  attention from someone who relishes it,   letting   the   conversation   further   rather   than   die   out.   ❛ still   haven't   let   go of those   melodramatic   fucking   monologues. ❜    their   temper included.   it's what had kept the two tethered to one another. that and, other things.  finch's   gaze   roams   their physique,   seeking   out the   assumably   faded   ' F ' initial   that   marks   his   territory.  ❛ what'd   you   do,   d ? ❜    straight canines bare a lazy smile,   snatching   the   bottle   and   downing   it   in   one   parched   swig   before   tapping   it   against   the   island.  ❛ two more rox,   put   it   on   their   tab. ❜ 

FOR : kennedy ! @brntout . LOCATION : a booth in redstone .

it wasn't often kennedy and effie were found outside of the office together, but this happened to be a special occassion. no, it wasn't a warehouse party turned sour. it was their own shared space : the register and a common 'enemy' of sorts. perhaps a way of strengthening a coworkers bond was by mulling over a mutual anger for their boss. sharing a drink, effie offered to pay, putting the little tension and pinpricks aside just for ricardo. " believe me, kennedy, i already had a talk with him. " spoken with a rub to her temples, eyelashes falling to a close. ricardo, as of late, was beginning to spark a headache for effie. thwarting her plans, putting a literal fucking pin in what she herself intended to write. she then wonders, briefly, if kennedy has had the same roadblocks.

" believe it or not, " a harsh puff of laughter, " i stormed into his haughty little house. brought it right to his doorstep. " the drink has long gone untouched and isn't disturbed until this moment. effie seems to trail off in thought for a moment, staring at the neatly cubed ice and condensation of the glass. she watches it drip down the side with one singular point in her head: is ricardo ever going to stop running the register like its a reality tv show? when she returns to the present she's taking a long drink of the cinnamon whiskey, lets it burn her throat before continuing. a rare question gets asked: " so, what do you think, kennedy? lay it on me. "

restless energy exists under his skin. constant need to get his hands on something— it's kept him out of most trouble last few years. quelled the electricity making his hair stand on edges ; the pins and needles at bay. couldn't stumble into bad habits, lose the plot if they had something to do. ironically, had considered looking into mechanics before the tattooing gig. only problem with cars were the lifeless shells. couldn't tell what the hell was wrong with an expressionless husk. it lacked a form of art ; detailing couldn't even compete. if damon's fixed his absolute joke of a ninety's era honda, surely he could do something. " well, if you don't know and i don't know what the hell is wrong with it ... who's to say it isn't an easy fix? " its genuine in the way it's stressed, fingers fiddling with an edge silver ring circling his finger. palms itch at the thought. " least i could do, yeah? gives me shit to do, you somethin' less to worry about. hopefully. i ain't a mechanic, but ... i like to keep my knowledge expanding. " snorts at that. " you know me. can't stop keeping myself busy. just keep it in mind, yeah? " a clap of their hands. " now, with the damon business spiel out the way ... what you want? i'll cover it. no, nope nothin' about handouts or any of that shit. i asked you if you were free to chill. "

the    air    in    places    like    redcreek    carried    a    sweetness    that    clung    to    her    skin    like    sap,    tacky    with    memories    she'd    rather    forget    —-   memories    of    a    town    smaller    than    this    one,    trapped    between    cornfields    and    steeples,    drenched    in    kindness    so    artificial    you    felt    like    you    were    suffocating. it’s    why    she    tries    to    stay    in    the    margins,    on    the    side ;    here,    but    not    really,    easily    forgettable.    a    person    you    jot    down    in    the    crevices    of    your    memory    and    then    discard.    but    now    she needs    help.    fucking    can’t    stand    that    she    does,    but    requires    it    nonetheless.    without    a    means    of     transportation    she’s     truly stuck,    one    purgatory    traded for    another. it's that fact that forces her to act    like    words    have    threaded    through    her    suspicion,    like    saccharinity    in    eyes    and    a charm she almost wants to fall for    doesn’t    remind    her how    she's learned generosity doesn't always mean goodness    —-    instead how one usually meant the absence of the other.    " wish    i    knew.    every    time    i    try    to    gain    any    type    of    speed    the    check    engine    light    comes    on    and    he    quits. " fingers drum over the rusted metal, gaze catching theirs. " you sure you want another project? "

damon pauses for a moment, racking his brain on if the face is familiar or not. so many faces in redcreek remembered and forgotten. seen on a day-to-day basis as a client, a grocery story regular or someone he'd rub shoulders with the wrong way in high school. so many options! they eventually conclude she looks familiar from bygone teenage years. brows furrowing trying to think about her name.

" star-struck, eh? c'mon don't gotta be a flatterer now. i'm just a redcreek native, not a celeb. " gives a slight laugh at that, mouth splitting into a grin. " don't hate me, but i can't remember your name. high school, right? " snaps his fingers to point at sianni before they're leaning back against the bar. " well. maybe it isn't a good look for anybody right now, no. " agrees without much fight there. takes a drink from the beer bottle before they're turning fully to face her, a snort towards her exaggerated expression. " bit dramatic, don't you think? off us one by one? that's stranded adults in a woodland cabin plot. " doubts its some grand show of control or something similar. hasn't really given it much thought and finds themselves straying away from the turbulence as much as possible. they keep in the know, but they're not trying to be within the know.

" refresh me. what's your name aaaaaaaand do you drink. it's on me. for forgetting you. "

sianni turns to see damon del valle in a seat while he speaks directly to her, which has her honestly taken aback a bit.

she knew them from high school-- well she knew of them-- she was in her sophomore year going to her junior year as they were graduating from their senior year. "not gonna lie, a little star-struck right now, didn't know you'd even-- know me--remember me? or maybe you're just trying to make conversation with a stranger?"

Though, sianni doesn't hesitate to take a seat across from him, "but to answer your question, is it even a good look for any of us to be here-- especially when there's somebody-- or even people, who wants to--" sianni makes a face expression, one meant to express agony on someone's face, "off us one by one it seems."

FOR : vicente ! @newwayin. LOCATION : sister's of the moon.

" trust me, vic, i'm good on all ... that. " abel quirks his head towards the side at the sign reminding customers about tarot cards and all things mystic. really, has never felt the draw to this side of the town, but friendships lead you to some strange fucking places. " sounded like you were gonna go on a mile long run when you called me. shit, need to take a jog? said you were off in a bit. " vicente, vicente, he was always the type to get wrapped up in his head. a sensitive soul left in the world. had a bit of a soft spot for him — his natural fucking opposite, or so abel thinks. " can't guarantee i can clear your head, but misery loves company or something like that. "

immediately damon pauses, bottle almost comically suspended just inches from their mouth. leave it to kingsley to say something absolutely, positively outlandish enough to get them to pause. it has them pondering for a moment ; taking in each word piece by piece like tic-tacs. it's clear on their face they're thinking about it — the thought process is broken by a laugh. " man. colloquially. you know what, kingsley, you're alright, buuuuuuuut lets backtrack real quick. " they're taking a swig of the beer before they spin it in a circle in his directly. " how many people you drop that on, huh? giving a little ... motive drop just to see if they'd twitch? or you just spouting some shit? " it's interesting. enough so that, maybe, if damon was too lost in his cups he might be thinking: oh fuck, is it me? " i like it. it's juicy. maybe the register will get a kick outta it. "

" it'd be crazy if you were the one making everyone disappear and be murdered . " kingsley says aloud , mainly to himself , but too blase to really notice it may not be everyone's favourite topic. " like . . . you know what i'm saying ? either you're an idiot who's bad at killing and snatching people , by drawing attention to yourself . or you're a GENIUS , cause who'd suspect you now ? " kingsley shakes his head in amusement . he looks to damon and gives a small shrug . " never any trouble to me , my man who's gender non-conformity i whole-heartedly respect , and when i say ' man ' i mean it colloquially , not that i actually see you as such , per se . "

maksym is far from a frequent flier at redstone ; embodies a distant fly on the wall. present, aware, but perched unmoving against the drywall out of sight. this the opposite of their other half. he, present on the stage with bloodied fingers from the strings, rhythm piercing the already buzzed atmosphere. mak is the oddity here, but who the fuck wasn't an oddity in this town anymore? still it lingers in the corner of their mind just how strange they feel in a bar. unwilling to make eye contact with other patrons as if it'd burn. disinterested in musical commodities such as the band ( or, maybe, just because it welcomed finch ). yet they linger. fly, shadow. anything except a person.

they sit with one whiskey neat and eyes glued to the yellow-tint of their phone screen. it's just something for them to do, bade their time as they drown a misplaced discomfort blooming beneath ribs. it doesn't have a name — mak isn't trying to find it either. they don't notice the this time real shadow looming over them. the figure cast by the low light against the counter ignored. just some other resident. someone looking to burn what lurks beneath murky waters with something stronger.

as the old story goes — it wasn't just some fucking resident.

taylan speaks into their space on purpose, he must. mixes in his volatile presence with their still water. it doesn't startle mak, not necessarily, but it births a new gnawing. their tongue clicks in wordless response, fingers tapping against the drained glass. bored? " bored. " it's a scoff, cousin of a mean laugh. mak doesn't grace taylan with the generosity of a full acknowledgement. tilts their head in a similar way, just barely, encroaching into his space like a quiet challenge. eyes obscured by the hike of their shoulder. the problem with being a nurse in red creek, and red creek in general, was being known. even if their brother wasn't a frequent body with taylan they're sure they'd be noticed still. small town. only hospital. they need out of this fucking place, but they haven't found the open window. " was me not fixing your dumbass up at the hospital enough? " caustic in its own way ; biting without the connection of teeth. fuck, they need another drink. two finger wave towards the bartender and they receive another liquid pacifier. it'd never be liquid courage, they aren't in need of that shit. " i'll bite, taylan. what kind of entertainment you offering? besides the threat of a headache. "

where : redstone bar status : closed for @c0nnectdots

redstone bar thrums with its usual chaos - laughter curling into the sharp notes of a jukebox tune , the slap of cards against table , the steady thud of boots against the floorboards . the air is thick with the tang of spilled whiskey , and a haze of distractions that fails to reach him . taylan stands just inside the doorway , the noise washing over him in waves , but doing nothing to sate the gnawing ache in his chest . it’s an insatiable hunger - the kind no drink or idle conversation can dull . his muscle plead for stillness , but his sinews stretch taut , coiled with restless energy that drives him forward . his chest burns hot - a bitterness festering , like old gear abandoned in the shadows of a rink , forgotten and rusting away . the ache lives too deep , a rot he can’t scrape out , a void that won't be satisfied by anything less than destruction . his eyes flick to the far end of the bar , landing on mak . wrong twin . finch would’ve been a guarantee of chaos , a devil perched on his shoulders , whispering bad ideas into his ear . mak , though , is all stiff-backed judgement , more locked door than partner in crime . taylan moves toward him anyway , his shadow dragging heavy across the floorboards . when he reaches the bar , he doesn’t sit . he looms , shadow pooling over mak's sharp shoulders . for a moment , he says nothing , doesn't even look at them , just signals for a drink . the sharp clink of glass against the counter cuts through the noise . then , with the barest tilt of his head , taylan leans in close enough to crowd their space . “ you look bored . ” he murmurs , low and sardonic , curling between them like smoke . “ let me fix that . ”

water under the bridge had a tendency to get too high, threat of flooding often ignored. damon likes to overlook warnings ; pass through waist-heigh water and count the seconds until they're engulfed. however, when it came to selin ... there's a certain twist in their gut. the severity didn't merit groveling, but fuck the consequences of actions can make a paper cut look fatal. sniffs, a borderline laugh, at her. rising waters of damon's own making alone ; selin's more of a breeze. disturbing the surface and bringing the ripples. the leaves falling to rest on top without making a sound— and all that poetic bullshit they'd never say aloud. shoulders droop from tension with invisible cord snapping with the little bump. the smoke coils in his uncharacteristic silence, maybe signifying that relief he feels. its easy to slip back into a factory setting, let the smile curve against his mouth and hand rest against knee. " got to at least give me my few moments of actually being serious, sel. " this comes with an arm coiling around her shoulders, tugging her towards his side with an air of comfortability. their nasty little addiction and its burn, thankfully in his eyes, kept away from wafting towards selin's face. fingers wiggle next to her face.

" buuuut! you get tied up in any of my shit again, break my pinkie. i'd deserve it. you'd better promise me that. " pointer finger finds its target: her cheek. presses there in a longer than necessary poke. keeps the smile on his face that she'd affected him with. which selin affects him in a lot of ways. wouldn't have stuck around otherwise. she's genuine, at least he thinks so, in a way he hadn't found himself able to be. admirable, really. the air she brings ; spring little breeze. thinks she'd be capable of anything she'd set her mind to. after all, he wouldn't let just anyone stab him with a tattoo gun's needle. wears the presence of exactly two people against his skin ; one which has started to fade, much like the once freshly laid ink has. this one is still dark in its black lines. briefly wonders if he'd slip away from the shadows from her, too. " alright. alright. enough of that shit. tell me what's new, what's on your mind. hope all this creep talk around the time isn't keeping you up at night. be a real bummer to hear. i've taken the bummer award for the night and i'm not handin' it to you. "

" you do know the consequence to breaking a pinky promise is that i get to break your pinky , right ? " the warning is delivered with narrowed eyes , and all the faux malice of a house cat , despite her best efforts at appearing serious . teasing aside , selin had been genuinely concerned for moment that it might be true , the relief she feels to have him dispel that fear more real than she'd care to admit . remnants of the girl whose day used to be brightened just by catching a glimpse of the other in the hallway still seemed to linger every now and then , even despite the decade that'd passed and the friendship that'd formed between them . " yeah , alright . proving small town stereotypes false one day at a time , then . there really is shit to do around here . " the smoke that billows from his mouth mixes with their warm puffs of breath in the air , transfixing in a way that makes her itch to ask for her own cigarette . she doesn't even smoke , not anymore , but that was the thing about damon . it was easier to crave things off the path she'd settled into in his presence . a smoke , her art — things off limits or out of reach suddenly seem graspable . guilt stirs at the change in tone of his voice , the seriousness feeling foreign . she'd always hated to make people worry , or worse , to make them feel bad . and maybe that's why selin brightens , like she could fill in the bit of lightness he'd shed with his apology . " please , that's water under the bridge already . plus , you know , it's always exciting matching with you . tattoos , black eyes , what's next ? " she bumps his shoulder with her own , lips lifted into what she hopes is a grin that displays she was being genuine in saying it was alright . " i know it was an accident . "

" well, it was a fight that's what ... " damon shouldn't be a smartass right now, but they'll blame the adrenaline crash. hands, clammy and head rightfully throbbing from a bottle crack. yeah, they're not exactly their best self. a thumb lifts to swipe at their nose ring. at least it wasn't ripped out, that would be a real pain. " well. guy shoved me. had some real force into it— mix in some good ol' jack daniels ... and bada bing you got yourself a fight. "

there's a pause with their eyes glancing down at the med kit. " look, vanessa, already put another on shitshow on halloween ... really don't think i need that. " gestures to the first aide. " probably should just suck it up and go home. " they feel a slight drip of blood down their forehead. pauses. " on second thought ... yeah. yeah, maybe. " they move from the doorframe to leave against a wall, hunching down to make it a bit easier. " i'm sorry, really. swear i ain't ... you know, like that. haven't caused shit on your shift in a minute. we cool? "

❝ ⸻ WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT ? ❞ vanessa's day off and out of all nights and situation , a fight breaks out . Everyone knew she had a no fighting policy in the bad .... AT LEAST WHEN SHE WAS WORKING . not only did a fight breaking out looked bad for business , killed the vibes of the bar , and such , but she simply wanted everyone to leave the bar on a feel good note . with the first aid kit in her hand , vanessa motioned for him to follow and sit , away from everyone .

❝ how did the fight even started ? ❞ one minute she heard chatter about the body found and small laughs here and there , and the next thing she heard was a glass breaking before she broke up the fight and threatened to kick both asses . Something everyone knows she could do . ❝ Let me help you ❞