"WELL SHIT ─  I  Don't  Know.  Let  Me  Get  A  Good  Look  At  You."  It's  Not  The 

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.

Yeo-reum & Ahn Dae-beom 1.08 |  Summer Strike

"good save, babe. you had me worried there." they tease. as if hana could do anything to make her look ominous. kennedy thinks she could commit a murder and still find a way to make it endearing. something they might have to consider a little deeper about after tonight's events. fingers easily interlocking with hers as kennedy leads them out from the dancefloor. not without giving hana another twirl of course. "is it just me or is this party... actually fun?" especially for how low their expectations were to begin with.

☾ ❝ eee ! ❞ she nearly squeals at kennedy, nodding enthusiastically at the suggestion. ❝ yes please. i want one of those things that look like a lab experiment. ❞ she pauses, then laughs at herself. ❝ like, one of the tube drinks. not the people. ❞

Hercules (1997) dir. John Musker & Ron Clements

SUCCESSION (4.10) | WITH OPEN EYES

Margaret Atwood, The Blind Assassin

location : santiago's apartment

time : sometime after 3:00am.

for : santiago @atonehart

“it’s borderline fascinating…” they had been going on a while now, from the moment they walked through the door. “...how you can’t seem to listen to save your life! i said go home and what do you do? you go to the fucking bar! seriously santi, it’s like you— no, leave the peas on for a couple minutes more. it’ll help with the swelling.” kennedy shouldn’t even be here. they should be out there. gathering intel,  securing interviews, writing that damn story for the register. tending to the wounds of the prodigal ‘brother’ should be at the bottom of their priorities right now. yet there they were, walking over with a glass of water, a dose of painkillers, and an awfully sour expression. there's a pause the transaction ensues and after a beat, they finally ask, "are you okay?"

vikram was feeling tad out of place here. his therapist was the one to suggest he wear a mask to the town's halloween party. a happy medium between his desire to socialize more and his fear of being perceived. it was working! for the most part. clearly not well enough if hana was able to spot him clinging to the walls like some sleep paralysis demon. "oh! i was just um, admiring the decor." that sounds better than him saying he was spacing out in the corner, right? vikram doesn't question the boldness in which she snatches his wrist nor does he resist her pulling him towards the bar. he knows better than to try to dissuade hana when she has her mind set on something and if that something is having a drink with him... then who the hell is he to get in the way of that? "i think they have two for one morgue-a-ritas?"

🔒 closed starter for vikram // @brntout 🧡 for a starter from mid party. 📍 the warehouse's halloween party, ~10 p.m.

☾ the moment hana sets her sights on him, his attempt at being a wallflower is promptly ended. ❝ you ! vik ! ❞ she calls out over the music, not - so - subtly shouldering her way through the crowd to get to him. ❝ what are you doin' in the corner ? ❞ her accent comes out thicker, thanks to the drinks settling in her system from a generous pregame. with possibly too much familiarity, she takes hold of his wrist and starts to pull him along. ❝ we gotta get you out there . . . to the bar ! trust me ! do you think they still have the fun themed drinks this year ? ❞

PUSHING DAISIES 1x01 - Pie-lette

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– ❞