Kennedy Does One Better Than Closing The Door. They Lock It. In One Sharp Motion, Unwilling To Let Anyone

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

the   two   painted   an   amusing   contrast   against   the   sterile   backdrop   of   redcreek’s   pharmacy.   taylan,   fiery   and   impatient,   his   vivid   red   energy   pushing   past   vikram’s   more   solemn   blue.   "oh,   sorry."   sass   was   not   something   that   had   ever   come   naturally   to   vikram.   apologies   did.   always   something   to   be   sorry   for   when   your   dignity   is   paper   thin.   and   that’s   exactly   what   he   offers   now,   raising   a   hand   instinctively   in   submission   as   he   steps   aside.   he   had   fully   expected   their   interaction   to   end   there   so   when   taylan   speaks   again,   it   catches   vikram   fully   off   guard,   eyes   widening   as   the   other's   crude   humor   rings   in   the   air,   almost   as   loud   as   the   bell   he   was   relentlessly   pressing   a   moment   prior.

'business   is   blooming.'   vikram   clears   his   throat   at   that,   shifting   awkwardly   in   place.   “uh,   yeah,   i   suppose   it   is.”   brows   twitch   into   a   frown   at   his   own   reply.   immediately,   vikram   can   tell   this   conversation   will   be   one   he   regrets.   one   that   his   mind   will   save   into   the   memory   of   his   brain   and   safely   tuck   away   at   the   corner   of   his   mind   specifically   reserved   for   remembering   any   time   he   puts   his   foot   in   his   mouth.   for   anyone   wondering,   throwing   azi   under   the   bus   in   his   police   interview   is   stashed   away   in   there   as   well.   he   draws   in   a   sharp   breath,   trying   again,   more   composed   this   time.   “they’re   probably   at   lunch   and   forgot   to   put   up   a   sign.”   better   to   address   the   younger   man’s   actual   question   than   the   colorful   way   he   expressed   it.   “or   maybe   they   did   put   one   up,   and   we’re   both   equally   awful   at   noticing   it.”   there’s   a   hint   of   a   joke   in   his   tone   as   his   eyes   flicker   to   the   'no   smoking'   sign   hanging   in   the   crook   of   the   reception   counter,   right   above   the   forgotten   ashes   of   taylan’s   cigarette.

where : red creek pharmacy status : closed with @brntout

with a cigarette dangling between his lips and insomnia looming underneath his eyes , taylan's days and nights blend into an aching mess that he can’t ease with the pills that he takes . years of playing hockey and fighting on the ice led him to shed blood , and steal from others without repercussions . but one accident had pulled on a loose thread making everything come undone . unraveling a poorly stitched pattern that his coach attempted to stitch close over the years with the help of painkillers . no pharmacist in sight and patience running thin . rough , careless and blowing out a waft of smoke , taylan pushes past vikram and leans against the counter , disregarding the no - smoking sign as if it were mere decoration . impatiently , he presses the call bell , over and over again . ding , ding , ding , resounds and bounces against the the pharmacy walls . “ think they died ? ” toying with the cherry at the end of his cigarette , taylan burns the pad of his thumb before pressing it out on the reception desk , leaving a dark marring spot behind . “ for all we know , the boogeyman gutted them in the back , and we have one less pharmacist in this town . ” too soon . “ congrats business is blooming for you . ”

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?"

Smallville Hothead | 1.03

quality advice from jeremy allen white

Imitation of Life (1959) dir. Douglas Sirk

there was a chill in the air — both physical and metaphorical. people filtering out of bars and diners, a sea of buzzing phones and slurred questions. ‘who’s body did they find?’ it was shocking, confusing even and while vikram did not fit the role of a hero nor did he like pretending to, the sight of a lone woman stumbling away from the crowd was enough to spring him into action. after all, he’s already got one body to embalm… best not make it two.

so he approaches, black cape flowing behind him, contrasting the white half mask he still has on his face. an eerie silhouette. it’s not surprising that she’s startled by his sudden presence. “sorry — uh, did you lose something?” quick to bring attention back to her behavior rather than how ‘goddamn quiet’ he moves. “i can help you look for it. i don’t think it’s uh, a good idea to be out alone right now.” 

○    LOCATION   ⏤   red   creek   main   street   . ○    TIME   ⏤   11   :   57   pm  ○    STATUS   ⏤   open   to   all   !

warehouse  party  ?  shut  down  .  pumpkin  bucket  filled  with  candy  ?  stashed  somewhere  on  main  street  .  plan  to  go  home  and  write  this  night  off  as  a  minor  success  because  at  least  she  didn't  laze  around  her  apartment  in  ratty  pajamas  and  watch  practical  magic  for  the  third  time  this  week  ?  in  motion  …  if  she  could  remember  where  her  bucket  went  .  she  didn't  do  all  that  schlepping  around  town  for  nothing  ,  not  in  this  tiny  ass  skirt  .  and  now  ,  as  she  looked  around  the  quickly  emptying  main  area  of  the  town  ,  kirby  realized  that  maybe  she  was  an  actual  idiot  .  murderville  ,  usa  ,  was  not  where  she  wanted  to  be  caught  after  midnight  on  halloween  of  all  fucking  nights  ,  oh  jeez  .  as  she  quickly  looked  under  benches  and  behind  some  cars  ,  she  sensed  someone  slightly  to  the  side  of  her  and  jumped  only  slightly  .  “  shitfuck  !  you  are  so  goddamn  quiet  ,  jesus  christ  !  ”

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 ? ❞