❝𝑌𝘖𝑈  𝐴𝘙𝐸  𝐶𝘙𝑌𝘐𝑁𝘎!  𝑌𝘖𝑈  𝐴𝘙𝐸  𝐴𝘍𝑅𝘈𝐼𝘋 

“you are bleeding." vikram is too stunned to offer anything other than the truth right now. getting very cleaned up is taking precedence over beside manner. "it's okay. it's not that bad." for now at least. it's too early to tell if she’s concussed or just in shock. he's got a hand hovering over her shoulder just in case, ready to catch her should she feel lightheaded. "don't move, okay?" he pats at the area, an occasional apology murmured under his breath at any sign of discomfort. the friction of his handkerchief against her wound is probably not the best feeling, but he’s trying to be gentle. “how are you uh, feeling?”

who : anyone where : outside the bar when : 2:05am

" oh my god , am i bleeding ? i think i'm bleeding. " avery winces as she touches her nose , the wound bleeding slightly. at least nothing was broken. avery was at the bar when a fight broke up and she was much too close to the action. was she trying to join the fight ? no one can say , avery would sue.

vikram has never been good at delivering jokes. there was always something for him to fall flat in. his tone of voice, his expression, sometimes the context of the joke itself. "um, no? more like... i'm flirting with you by referencing a killer cheerleader while we live in a town with a —" okay. maybe he should have read the room better, with that one. he's grateful he's not facing her now or else she might catch the hint of a redish hue on his skin. vikram moves the flashlight further down, before catching a glimpse of a pumpkin shaped item a couple of cars down. "oh, i found it!" he proclaims, placing both his hands on the concrete to push himself up and go to the car in question. now that he knows where it is, he doesn't have to pull the chivalrous get-on-the-knee move. he simply bends down to retract the bucket before turning around to offer it to kirby. "is this it?"

“  are  you  flirting  with  me  by  referencing  a  masked  serial  killer  while  we  live  in  a  town  with  an  active  killer  on  the  loose  ?  ”  kirby  was  not  serious  ,  she  hoped  her  smile  would  show  that  but  also  …  read  a  main  street  buddy  .  okay  ,  that  was  nice  of  him  ,  pulling  out  his  flashlight  .  she  recognizes  that  it  will  do  very  little  ,  as  the  street  lights  are  on  and  the  bucket  is  neon  orange  ,  practically  glow  in  the  dark  .  however  ,  she  recognizes  that  he  is  trying  to  help  so  she  bites  her  tongue  so  as  to  not  ruin  his  moment  .  “  it's  somewhere  over  here  .  i  live  less  than  a  block  away  and  i  thought  if  i  hid  it  somewhere  over  here  ,  i'd  be  able  to  get  it  quickly  and  be  munching  on  a  snickers  by  the  time  i  got  back  to  my  place  .  ”  she  had  a  half  a  mind  to  crawl  but  she  also  had  common  sense  so  no  ,  she  would  not  be  getting  on  the  dirty  ground  .

PUSHING DAISIES 1x01 - Pie-lette

location : redstone bar

time : evening

for: nadia(@hypnotiscd)

"you know, i was actually watching love is blind with june the other day." he has his designated spot on the couch of her apartment— the side with the missing leg, where he remains still as a rock until it's time for him to leave out of fear of it buckling under his movement. "she thinks it's a load of bull but... i don't know. there's something kind of sweet about it." did the experiment have it's flaws? sure. did he become embarrassingly invested in everyone's journey? of course. he glances over at nadia, an easy smile present as he speaks. with how heavy redcreek was feeling recently, the levity gained from grabbing a drink with her and talking mindlessly about something so silly was relieving. "maybe i should apply." it's only a half-joke, emphasized by the sheepish laugh that escapes him. he brings the bottle of beer to his lips for a swig before offering a shrug, "i don't know. beats whatever i've been doing." which has been sitting pretty at the funeral home, waiting for love to knock at his doorstep like some sort of hallmark movie.

CHURCHES  MADE  KENNEDY  UNCOMFORTABLE.  anything  that  has  to  do  with  divinity  or  a  higher  power  did.  her  guard  has  been  up  since  the  moment  she  stepped  foot  into  the  chapel,  sharp  gaze  set  on  the  praying  priest  just  a  couple  pews  ahead  of  them.  a  stark  contrast  to  her  more  doleful  stepbrother  beside  her.  "if  it  makes  you  feel  any  better,  i  doubt  that  was  what  KILLED  her."  the  words  are  delivered  in  a  deadpan  tone,  making  it  hard  to  decipher  if  that  was  a  callous  attempt  at  a  joke  or  an  inside  thought  that  was  not  meant  to  see  the  light  of  day.  perhaps  it  didn't  truly  matter.  not  when  the  possibility of  another  tragedy  was  beginning  to  feel  less  like  a  threat  .  .  .   and  more  like  a  promise.  with  so  much  to  lose,  how  could  she  possibly  give  herself  the  space  or  even  the  time  to  mourn?  “i  think  it's  one  of  the  newcomers  or  –  no.  maybe  someone  who  was  around  for  the  original  murders.  someone  old  enough  to  remember.  or  maybe  it's  both.  maybe  jacob  thorne  has  a  long  lost  sibling  that's  come  to  town  to  take  revenge."  too  many  questions,  not  nearly  enough  answers.  “what  do  alaina  price,  daniela  estrada,  and  kirby  sloane  even  have  in  common?”  aside  from  being  a  couple  of  bad  bitches. 

🗝️ open to all. 📍 redemption chapel, jan 24th.

the news breaks, as does half of red creek alongside it. there's an unfair lump lodged in santiago's throat. he wasn't close to kirby ; her death was not his to mourn, and yet ... he sits in the back pew of redemption chapel, hands wound in his hair. it was between here & the cemetery— the weather chose for him. he breathes in, has a hard time breathing out. halloween night plays through his mind. ❝ i asked about her name. ❞ he wants to laugh at the memory, but doesn't have the heart. a puff of frustration leaves him instead, ❝ grow up in a box like red creek & i still had to ask for her name. jesus– ❞

"eh, you're not missing about much. beer's just... you know, cheap." it fit his nature of taking things slow. shots were too quick, too reckless, and much harder to nurse on those nights when he simply didn't want to be alone. but quinn's offer was kind and as a man who could use a little more of it himself, it was only natural for him to agree. he taps her shot glass with his, then downs the shot. the burn is strangely soothing. it gives him something to focus on. "oh! yes, that's me." any reminder that vikram is not invisible to others makes him nervous. "yeah, i think I've seen you around too. i usually work with the mortuary so i don't really um, get to meet other people. what do you do there?" she seems a little young to be a doctor.

the  brunette  let  out  a  laugh,  “  unfortunately  ,  i'm  gluten  free  …  so  beer  and  me  don't  usually  get  along  .  ”  she  responded  ,  sending  the  taller  male  a  friendly  grin  .  quinn  had  recognized  vikram  from  the  hospital  ,  but  it  was  usually  during  a  moment  where  she  was  quite  busy  and  stressed  .  quinn  wasn't  super  outgoing  ,  but  she  wasn't  super  introverted  -  she  was  somewhere  in  the  middle  .  if  she  didn't  know  someone  ,  she  didn't  always  say  hi  ,  but  when  alcohol  was  involved  …  her  extroverted  side  had  an  edge  .  “  yeah  !  i'm  quinn  .  ”  she  responded  ,  holding  up  the  shot  glass  and  cheersing  .  “  vikram  ,  right  ?  i've  seen  you  a  few  times  at  the  hospital  ,  i  believe  .  ”

Smallville Hothead | 1.03

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

Imitation of Life (1959) dir. Douglas Sirk