Brntout - * — 𝐛𝐞𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐝 / 𝑦𝑜𝑢 !

THE SECRET WORLD OF ARRIETY 2010, dir. Hiromasa Yonebayashi

@mclodrma

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

❝𝘛𝐻𝘐𝑆  𝑃𝘓𝐴𝘊𝐸  𝑊𝘐𝐿𝘓  𝘈𝐿𝘞𝐴𝘠𝑆  𝐻𝘈𝑉𝘌  𝘖𝑁𝘌  𝘊𝐿𝘈𝐼𝘔  𝘖𝑁  𝑀𝘠  𝘈𝐹𝘍𝐸𝘊𝑇𝘐𝑂𝘕,  𝑊𝘏𝐼𝘊𝐻  𝑁𝘖  𝘖𝑇𝘏𝐸𝘙  𝘊𝐴𝘕  𝘗𝑂𝘚𝑆𝘐𝐵𝘓𝑌  𝑆𝘏𝐴𝘙𝐸.❞

//  (  henry  zaga  .  cismale  .  he/him  )  .  ⸻  SALVADOR LUIS PEREZ  ,  a  twenty eight year  old  ,  has  survived  another  day  in  red  creek  where  they  have  lived  for  his  whole  life  .  THE PROMISCUOUS is  known  for  being  flirtatious  and  toxic  and  is  often  associated  with  calling  dates  pet  names  to  not  risk  saying  the  wrong  name,  a  lopsided  shit  eating  grin,  text  messages  left  on  read,  collarbone  hickeys  poking  out  of  the  hem  of  his  shirt  .  in  a  small  town  where  they  work  as  a  line  cook  at  dolly’s  diner  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

Ⅰ    .   .   .  𝙱𝙰𝚂𝙸𝙲𝚂

full name  : salvador  luis  perez nicknames  : salva,  salv,  lu  (  close  friends  and  family  only  )  age : 28 birthday  : february  3rd gender  : cismale ( he   /   him   ) sexual orientation  : pansexual occupation : line  cook  at  dolly's  dinner fc : henry  zaga

Ⅱ   .  .  .  𝙵𝙰𝙼𝙸𝙻𝚈

mother : monica  perez father  :   ernesto  perez

Ⅲ  .   .   .   𝙰𝙱𝙾𝚄𝚃

∗  if  you  have  been  in  red  creek  long  enough  you  have  probably  either  slept  with  salvador  or  know  plenty  of  people  who  have. ∗ he  wasn't  always  so  promiscuous  though.  extroverted,  maybe  flirty,  sure.  he  got  along  well  with  everyone.  kids  liked  playing  with  him,  adults  found  him  endearing,  his  family  loved  him...  by  all  means,  he  was  just  a  normal  kid. ∗ got  into  some  trouble  in  high  school  but  nothing  out  of  the  ordinary  for  a  small-town  kid  left  to  find  their  own  entertainment.  he  was  a  star  athlete,  on  track  to  go  to  university  on  a  soccer  scholarship. ∗ then  his  mother  passed  away  and  it  seemed  like  she  took  all  of  his  ambitions  and  hopes  for  the  future  6  feet  under  with  her. ∗ with  so  much  grief  and  nowhere  to  put  it  he  unfairly  decided  to  aim  it  on  his  father  and  all  the  ways  he  failed.  to  this  day  salvador  firmly  believes  that  his  mother  would  have  had  a  better  chance  of  surviving  if  his  father  had  taken  her  symptoms  seriously  from  the  beginning.  salva  resents  him  for  it  and  their  relationship  has  been  strained  ever  since.  any  attempt  to  rebuild  that  bridge  is  made  for  the  sake  of  his  sister,  quinn. ∗ he's  very  close  to  his  sister.  after  their  mother's  passing  he  took  on  the  role  of  mom  the  best  he  could.  making  her  school  lunches,  driving  her  to  any  events,  cheering  her  on  when  she  decided  to  pursue  a  career  in  nursing,  etc.  salva  worries  for  quinn  and  how  hard  she  works.    ∗ he  never  ended  up  leaving  red  creek  and  has  found  himself  too  attached  to  the  town  that  his  mother  loved  so  much.  ended  up  taking  a  job  at  the  local  diner  as  a  line  cook  and  now  very  much  lives  up  to  the  stereotype  of  how  slutty  they  are. ∗ he  doesn't  play  soccer  anymore.  the  only  passion  of  his  that  has  remained  all  these  years  is  his  love  for  motorcycles.  has  a  vincent  black  shadow  that  is  his  pride  and  joy  (  someone  should  key  it  <3  ).  he  likes  fixing  old  motorcycles  in  his  free  time.  isn’t  good  enough  to  be  an  actual  mechanic  but he  might  be  willing  to  help  someone  every  now  and  then.  if  he  likes  them  enough. ∗ for  a  line  cook,  he  looks  like  he’s  doing  surprisingly  well  for  himself?  he’s  got  nice  clothes,  nice  cologne,  nice  motorcycles.  he’s  flashy  with  his  gifts  and  is  known  to  spare  no  expense  when  it  comes  to  dates.  if  you  ask  him  he’d  say  that  he’s  just  good  at  managing  his  money  but  maybe  there’s  something  more  to  that.  IDK  YOU  TELL  ME ∗ he's  rougher  around  the  edges  now  than  he  used  to  be  before  his  mother's  death.  still  overall  nice,  but  can  definitely  come  off  as  a  prick  to  some  people.  will  gaslight  you  into  believing  that  it's  all  in  your  head  though  <3  doesn't  have  the  best  track  record  romantically  and  has  a  tendency  to  get  bored  of  people  easily.  he's  a  hot  guy  okay  and  is  awfully  aware  of  it.

𝚂𝚄𝙼𝙼𝙰𝚁𝚈 :   kid  with  insane  potential  lets  it  all  go  to  waste  when  his  mother  passes  away.  when  he  isn't  flipping  burgers  at  the  local  diner,  he's  most  likely  talking  up  some  pretty  tourist  or  working  on  a  motorcycle.  make  sure  to  compliment  your  girlfriend  if  she  makes  her  way  to  dolly's  cus  if  you  don't,  salvador  certainly  will.

Ⅳ   .   .   .   𝙲𝙾𝙽𝙽𝙴𝙲𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽𝚂   -   all   connections   are   open   to   any   gender   unless   specified   otherwise.

wc  pinterest | wc  tag

hookups,  hookups,  hookups, people  he's  ghosted  lol an  on-and-off  relationship  (  messy!  ) fwd  that  caught  feelings friends  ofc regulars  at  the  diner coworkers! id  kill  to  have  someone  older  for  him  to  seduce  ghfjghkgh  pls  let  him  ruin  a  marriage  <3 his  latest  hyper  fixation  like  someone  he's  low-key  got  a  crush  on.  maybe  someone  knew  in  town?

Ⅴ   .   .   .   𝙿𝙴𝚁𝚂𝙾𝙽𝙰𝙻𝙸𝚃𝚈

＋flirtatious  ＋laid-back＋charming －manipulative－arrogant－self-centered mbti   : ESTP natal   chart   : ↑  scorpio, ⊙ aquarius, ☾ aquarius inspired   by   : john  willloughby  (sense  &  sensibility  ),  eleanor  shellstrop  (  the  good  place  ),  bronn  (  game  of  thrones  )  ,  joey  tribbiani  (  friends  ),  john  tucker  (  john  tucker  must  die  ), 

"so it sounds like you're having a good night?" even in her current state, hana's magnetism and her ability to command a room seems as prevalent as ever. even a man like vikram, who tended to navigate through spaces with a downcast gaze, can't help but have his attention on her as she weaves ( bulldozes? ) them though the crowd. his eyes are trained on white bunny ears, watching them bob in tune with the buoyancy of her steps. next thing he knows, he's settling himself into the space next to hana, sandwiched between her and another group of partygoers trying to catch the bartender's attention. hana beats them to it and while he can't really make out just what exactly she is ordering, he does manage to at least place his card down for the bartender to take. "goals for tonight?" he repeats the question slowly to give it some thought but before he can, hana takes off with her own ideas. the more animated she becomes, the more dread vik feels and suddenly his free hand clasps over hers, giving it a small, desperate squeeze.

"hana... please." it's almost a whisper, barely audible if it wasn't for the proximity. "have some mercy on me tonight. can we settle for... a dance, maybe? i don't think anybody wants to see me on top of anything." if he didn't have a fear of heights and djs, he certainly does now. "how about the goal is that i make it to midnight without wishing i would have stayed home?" there's a bit of a joke in there. somewhere. his eyes land on the drinks placed before them and is immediately weary of it as hana hands one over to him. he swears he can smell the heartburn from here. "oh, do you want to do that thing they do in movies? where they lock arms?" see, he's not a total stick in the mud! ahaha.

☾ hana is ever so grateful that vikram simply goes along with her plans. there's an internal moment of triumph whenever she manages to chip away part of the shell — even if it always seems to be temporary. ❝ perfect. 'cos i've had, like, so many shots already. gotta get you caught up, vik. morgue-a-ritas, mystery mimosas, green goblins . . . whatever will get the job done ! ❞ she shimmies her way between people at the bar with an over - zealous excuse me, pointing to something on the special drinks menu as soon as she can catch the bartenders attention. she pulls vik in too, wordlessly insistent that he take up space too. ❝ do we have any goals for tonight ? like, ummm . . . infiltrate the dj booth ? climb the tables ? ❞ hana's teasing, of course — suggesting bogus options to see the reaction they pull. no sooner do their drinks hit the bartop (a concerning shade of green) before she's pushing one glass into his hand. ❝ bottoms up. ❞

“if they do let me back there, don’t expect me to be able to pour anything other than a straight liquor. id be a shit bartender.” kennedy was very aware her strengths and bartending was simply not one of them. she follows the other with amusement awed by how yasmine walks through the room like they own the place. it was her idea to get a drink but they are more than happy to let yasmine take charge. with their encouragement, kennedy squeezes herself into an opening. she raises a hand to get the bartender's attention, then stops, and turns back to yasmine. "wait — what are you having?"

they nodded their head solemnly and hummed in agreement. "they might even let you behind the bar. it's doubtful they would care about the legalities of it tonight." they continued walking and shoving their way through the crowd, hardly acknowledging how many shoulders they bumped or toes they stomped. "time to test your theory," yasmine said as they pulled their hand kennedy and pointed toward the bar.

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

"overall, i think i might be more of a beer guy." vikram admits with a small smile, taking one of the glasses into his hand. "not the type to say no to a free drink, though." especially when its paired with such an amicable smile. "thank you, that's very nice of you. quinn, right?" he's seen her around the hospital during his visits to the mortuary. "do you, uh, want to do a cheer?"

the crowd at the bar was becoming a problem as quinn was hoping the person beside her was actually able to hear her words clearly . quinn's eyes shifted up towards the much taller male in front of her . " it's tequila . " she states , offering a friendly smile . " i know not everyone is a tequila drinker , so i'm hoping you're more of a tequila guy instead of vodka . " she responds .

#me

High School Musical 2 2007 | dir. Kenny Ortega