Brntout - * — 𝐛𝐞𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐝 / 𝑦𝑜𝑢 !

Miller's Girl (2024)

  ❝ 𝑌𝘖𝑈  𝐴𝘙𝐸  𝐶𝘙𝑌𝘐𝑁𝘎 !  𝑌𝘖𝑈  𝐴𝘙𝐸  𝐴𝘍𝑅𝘈𝐼𝘋  𝘖𝐹  𝑀𝘌 !  𝐴𝘕𝐷  𝑌𝘌𝑇  𝐼  𝐴𝘔  𝘕𝑂𝘛  𝘙𝐸𝘈𝐿𝘓𝑌  𝑊𝘐𝐶𝘒𝐸𝘋.  𝐿𝘖𝑉𝘌  𝘔𝐸  𝐴𝘕𝐷  𝑌𝘖𝑈  𝑆𝘏𝐴𝘓𝐿  𝑆𝘌𝐸 ! ❞

(  dev  patel  .  cismale  .  he/him  )    ───  VIKRAM  SHAH  a thirty  five year  old  ,  has  survived  another  day  in red  creek where  they  have  lived  for most  of  their  life . THE  SHEPHERD  is   known   for   being loyal and off-putting and  is  often  associated  with  digging  a  finger  under  a  tight  collar,  mornings  covered  in  dew  and  fog,  the  clenching  and  unclenching  a  fist,  a  cornered  animal  snarling  both  in  warning  and  in  yearning.  in   a   small   town   where   they   work   as the  funeral  director  at  red  creek  cemetery ,  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

𝐀 𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐃𝐘 𝐈𝐍: being the local weird kid, touch deprivation, a fear of loneliness, a profound understanding of death, an anxious temperament, loving to the point of devotion, feeling uncomfortable in your own skin, feeling too deeply or not at all.

[ Ⅰ ]  .  .  .  𝐁𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐒 

full  name. vikram  shah.  nicknames.  vik,  vikie, .  age.  35.  race.  gujarati-indian. nationality.  american.  birthday.  november  15th.  zodiac.  libra   gender.  cismale.  pronouns.  (  he   /  him  ).  sexual  orientation.  demisexual.  birthplace.  rajkot,  india.  occupation.  funeral   director.

[ Ⅱ ]  .  .  .  𝐅𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐘

mother  :  uvrashi  shah father  :  jasprit  shah

[ Ⅲ ]  .  .  .  𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓

∗  back  in  the  day,  viktor  shah  was  a  name  that  was  more  whispered  than  celebrated  around  the  streets  of  red  creek.  hushed  rumors  of  a  troubled  child,  a  young  man  with  a  hot  temper  and  a  knack  for  getting  into  trouble. ∗  what  a  shame  it  was  too,  that  his  parents  were  the  sweetest  people!  jasprit  &  urvashi  shah  were  nothing  if  not  upstanding  citizens.  and  well,  vikram  resented  them  for  it.  his  parents  were  too  busy  cultivating  their  image  and  keeping  the  business  that  they  put  raising  vikram  quite  low  on  their  priority  list. ∗  affection  was  not  something  that  was  commonly  found  in  the  shah  household.  sometimes  it  felt  like  they  saw  vikram  more  like  their  personal  assistant  rather  than  their  child. ∗  as  a  young  man  who  lacked  the  space  and  the  ability  to  express  himself,  he  resorted  to  acting  out  instead.  smoking,  drinking,  trespassing,  vandalism,  all  the  petty  things  rambunctious  teenagers  like  to  do  to  raise  a  ruckus  around  town. ∗   which  was  interesting,  because  vik  didn't  carry  himself  with  the  same  type  of  rowdiness  or  misconduct  that  his  peers  did. ∗   he  was  shy,  soft-spoken,  got  decent  grades  --  all  the  makings  of  a  nice  unproblematic  kid.  there  was  definitely  something  else  though.  an  underlying  temper  that  could  spring  to  life  in  a  blink  of  an  eye.  one  wrong  comment  could  turn  a  meek  smile  into  a  vicious  snarl  just  like  that. ∗   it's  unclear  to  everyone  what  finally  got  vik  to  mellow  down.  maybe  something  his  parents  said  finally  got  through  to  him  or  maybe  he  grew  tired  of  being  known  as  the  towns  'freak' ∗   regardless,  vikram  slowly  began  to  phase  out  his  rebellious,  wannabe  criminal  phase  during  his  college  years.  he  graduated,  went  back  home,  and  eventually  took  his  father's  place  as  the  town's  funeral  director. ∗  vikram  is  still  known  around  town  as  a  generally  polite  man.  a  little  quiet,  tends  to  keep  to  himself,  but  is  more  than  willing  to  lend  a  helping  hand  around  the  community.  in  the  morning,  he  is  usually  spotted  walking  downtown  holding  bouquets  of  flowers  and  in  the  evenings  he  is  known  to  catch  a  film  at  the  movie  theatre  or  grab  a  drink  at  one  of  the  local  bars. ∗   his  profession  and  overall  awkward  demeanor  still  makes  him  a  little  of  a  freak  to  some  people  but  any  rumors  around  him  are  more  made-up  tales  stirred  by  the  more  judgmental  folk.  stories  of  him  being  a  necromancer  or  a  witch,  snide  comments  about  how  he  seems  more  comfortable  with  dead  bodies  than  live  ones.  anyone  close  to  vik  would  tell  you  that  he's  a  sensitive  soul  and  simply  prefers  a  wallflower  lifestyle. ∗   if  one  were  to  pay  close  attention,  they  would  notice  that  he  keeps  his  knuckles  bandaged  most  days,  that  he  rarely  invites  people  over  to  his  home,  the  shadow  that  falls  on  his  face  when  someone  brings  up  his  childhood,  and  sometimes,  a  pensive  look  -  like  he  has  something  to  confess

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘  :  your  local  angsty  teen  grows  up  to  be  a  soft-spoken,  somewhat  nervous  adult.  followed  his  father's  footsteps  in  becoming  a  funeral  director.  living  proof  that  emo  is  not  a  trend,  it's  a  lifestyle.

[ Ⅳ ]  .  .  .  𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒   ───  all  connections  are  open  to  any  gender  unless  specified  otherwise.

wc  pinterest  |  wc  tag

[ Ⅴ ]  .  .  .  𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘

 ＋perceptive＋sensitive＋loyal －awkward－intense－insecure mbti  :  INFJ natal  chart  : ↑  libra, ⊙ scorpio, ☾ scorpio inspired  by  : the  phantom ( phantom  of  the  opera  ),  evan  kelmp  ( misfits  &  magic ),  carrie ( carrie )

"yeah, believe it or not this is about half of it. at this rate i'm going to have to start eating reeses pieces for breakfast." so he's grateful when nathan is kind enough to relieve him of his burden that is too much halloween candy. "thank you, mayor. you're saving me from some hefty dentist bills." vikram poses a la standing emoji as nathan looks him over, unsure of what to do with his hands now that the bucket of candy has been taken. "that's nice. i'm not big into musicals either. i just really like this one. i've never uh, seen it live though." but he wants to. someday. " the music's great. think you still remember the lyrics? should i suggest karaoke for the next council meeting?" he asks, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“  oh,  please,  you're  too  kind.  i  feel  like  i  might  have  more  than  enough,  even  if  halloween  lasted  a  whole  week!  ”  nathan  kids,  but  he  accepts  vikram's  offer  anyway,  because  of  course  the  mayor  would  have  too  much  candy  to  hand  out;  it's  why  everybody  stops  by  every  year.  there's  a  glint  of  recognition  in  his  eyes  when  he  puts  the  mask  on,  a  small  ahh  escaping  his  lips  as  he  nods.  “  i  wouldn't  say  i'm  an  avid  watcher  of  musicals,  but  i  have  seen  my  fair  share  of  them  —  it  was  my  mother  who  loved  them,  ”  he  shares.  “  and  she  did  take  me  to  see  the  phantom  of  the  opera  in  broadway  all  those  years  ago.  i  vividly  remember  having  the  songs  stuck  in  my  head  for  weeks  after  that.  ”

"WELL SHIT ─  i  don't  know.  let  me  get  a  good  look  at  you."  it's  not  the  smartest  move  to  remove  her  sunglasses  with  the  hangover  she  was  currently  battling,  but  joey  will  do  anything  for  a  bit.  a  bloodshot  and  squinted  gaze  lands  on  carlos,  taking  a  moment  to  analyze  him  before  offering  a  slow  nod.  "oh  yeah.  you're  fucked,  kid.  got  a  big  ol'  target  on  that  pretty  forehead  of  yours.  you  better  watch  yourself  out  there  .  .  .   would  hate  to  be  down  an  act."  with  that,  she  places  her  sunglasses  over  matted  curls,  now  fixing  her  eyes  on  the  lake  before  them.  “you  know  what?  i  think  you  might  be  on  to  something.  whoever  is  responsible  for  this  has  got  to  be  a  real  nasty  son  of  a  bitch.”  and  ugly.  down  to  their  very  fuckin'  core.  “ so . . . is  this  everything  you  hoped  for  when  moving  to  this  shitty  little  town?"

𝘄𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲.　deer lake, late afternoon on the day of kirby's death. 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵.　anyone! ( capping at five replies. )

〔　🐿️　〕　　...　　“  𝗱𝗮𝗺𝗻,  𝘄𝗵𝘆  𝗶𝘀  𝗶𝘁  𝗮𝗹𝘄𝗮𝘆𝘀  𝘁𝗵𝗲  𝗵𝗼𝘁𝘁𝗶𝗲𝘀  𝘄𝗵𝗼  𝗱𝗶𝗲?  ”  carlos  remarks,  a  plume  of  smoke  from  their  cigarette  and  the  cold  air  escaping  their  lips  with  every  word.  he didn't know the girl well, if at all, really, but it's all anyone could talk about today and if he didn't bring it up, it would be a little weird. it  isn't  that  he  doesn't  care  —  of  course,  the  whole  situation  is  unsettling  and  there's  a  inkling  perturbation  that  swirls  within  them  at  the  notion  of  a  killer  on  the  loose in such a small town,  but  it  seems  easier  to  pretend  that  this  is  all  one  big  joke  than  have  to  face  the  reality  of  it. it's all he can do.  “  is  this  guy  fucking  ugly  or  something?  are  they  trying  to  reverse  pretty  privilege?  should  i  have  to  watch  out?  ”

location : redstone bar

time : evening

for : taylan ( @ofvolatile )

there were two things the town seemed to be in silent agreement on when it came to the yalçınkayas. one, their kid was bad news. two, they weren’t talking about the daughter or their 20(?) cousins. wherever taylan went, trouble seemed to follow and it didn't take kennedy much convincing from their parents to keep their distance from him. and yet, it always felt like like taylan was always lingering somewhere in the periphery of her upbringing—as selin’s problematic brother, santiago’s troublemaking friend, and a thorn on redcreek's side. but with the recent murder of one alaina price, taylan's return to town was beginning to feel less of a coincidence and more like an omen. was alaina's downfall the wrath of a boy who never quite grew out of his rage?

he was a recognizable figure, even from behind. a head of brown messy waves sitting on top of broad shoulders and an aura that just screamed for someone, anyone, to just give him a reason. against carefully developed instincts, she approaches. the stool beside him creeks against hardwood as she settles herself onto it, announcing her arrival to both taylan and the bartender. “tequila soda, please.” her gaze darts over to taylan, as if to size him up, before turning back to the bartender and tipping her head towards him. “—and whatever he‘ll have.”

it’s a surprise there isn’t more awkwardness between them considering how little the two have interacted with each other before tonight. ken had heard of the change in the register’s hierarchy before they had made it back to town and naturally, it made them curious. ‘who is ricardo perez and why did he decide to purchase the local newspaper station of some shit town?' in the two months since they’ve been at the register he hasn't really been around much for her to ask and whenever he was, work took precedence over any relationship building. that was perfectly fine with kennedy. their first impression of him had left much to be desired. a man in designer, with an air of self-importance, painfully aware of the edge given by his looks and money. his arrogance almost felt curated, like he had built it for the precise goal of pissing everybody off. tonight they find themselves pleasantly surprised by the man walking beside him. the fact that he’s out here with them, skulking the ominous streets while a potential murderer is on the loose is more than they can say for any of their former employers. ricardo is showing a willingness to get his hands dirty and that kennedy can respect.

“so you don’t watch movies because you’re too busy being rich?” kennedy flashes him a look — they are calling bullshit! “i’ll be fine.” hm, that’s not what he cares about. they add, “and i’’ll be able to write just fine, thank you.” quick to dismiss his comment, unwilling to humor any question to their competence, even in their current state. they aren’t wasted and they probably have the sobering effect of the news to thank for that. it was a poor move to allow themselves to get carried away with the evening’s festivities. one that they haven’t stopped mentally cursing themselves for. "oh — " ricardo’s gesture to give them his jacket visibly catches them off guard. a moment of chivalry that they wouldn’t have expected from anyone, much less him. then he follows it up with his usual snark and kennedy’s mind focuses on the familiarity of that instead.  “sorry, i wasn’t expecting to be out this late. i would be in bed right now if it wasn’t for the body. if there is a killer, then it has to be one with a flair for dramatics.” they huff indignantly but they allow their fingers tug at the fabric of his blazer,  securing it over themselves.  “the way you said it made it sound like you didn’t like halloween and i was just wondering why. sue me.” they reply, their voice kept at an even, matter-of-fact tone but if he were to take a glimpse of her, he would notice the corner of her lips twitch in amusement. the irony of him telling a journalist of all people that, when all kenny knows to do is dig and dig for something deeper. who would they even be if they didn’t read into things? if they didn’t push for more? even his refusal to elaborate intrigues her, and gives her an all too familiar itch to scratch, but they have more tact than that. besides... there’s work to be done. “great, we can divide and conquer then. make more use of our time that way.” they’re in a time crunch after all, with only so many hours left in this godforsaken night. “so you wouldn’t take me up on an espresso martini, then? killjoy.”

he lets out a long breath of air as they walk together . for a brief moment , he can feel the tension unspooling from within him . the tension that's made a name , clawed its way deep into his body , nested there , left bloody marks - refused to let him go . but when he inhales again , it's right back . heavier than ever . ricardo's only been here 6 months and in those 6 months he's spent next to no time at the register . THE REGISTER ISN'T WHY HE CAME HERE , it was just a great opportunity . on his first day in town , he'd done the obligatory show of face , but had hopefully made it clear that the register would continue it's boring hum-drum life without him . he was purely OPERATIONAL . everything changed , of course , when daniela went missing . he can sense that apprehension and distrust from kennedy . he gets it a lot . at least from them , it makes SENSE .

at their comment , ricardo manages a half roll of his eyes , using the opportunity to look up at the blank night sky . there's not a single star he can see . " being rich takes up more time than you'd think . " he replies coolly instead . it's not exactly a lie . he chances a glance at kennedy as they walk , analysing their drunkenness . " you better still write coherently . i don't want to read the front page of you just garbling drunken nonsense . " as kennedy wraps their arms around themselves , ricardo makes a show of rolling his eyes this time . he shrugs out of his blazer and places it over her shoulders . " next time , wear something weather - appropriate . " he continues walking , eyes still keenly ahead . " nothing's wrong with halloween . must there be ? sometimes things simply aren't that deep . " ricardo's voice is like silk , sliding between topics , words , sentences , oozing confidence he doesn't deserve to have . " firstly , i can talk up anyone . " it's true . when he turns it on , ricardo can REALLY turn it on . he simply chooses not to . " secondly , we're not getting you another drink . you owe me words and i owe me bed . if anything , we're getting you a coffee so you can stay up , preciously tippy - tappying away . "

vikram shah ​🇹​​🇭​​🇪​ ​🇵​​🇭​​🇦​​🇳​​🇹​​🇴​​🇲​ makes an appearance @ the warehouse, this halloween!

soon as she unblocks me the wedding is back on

“am i?” vikram asks, taking a beat too long to process the playfulness in natha's voice. once it does, he offers a breathless chuckle “yeah, i suppose i am. i um, actually stopped by to see if you wanted some extra candy to hand out. i… overindulged.” especially for the number of visitors vikram tends to get. it should be no surprise to anyone that the mayors house would be more popular to bring your kids to than the funeral director's.  “oh —this?” he looks down at his costume, which isn’t all too different from his usual attire — a black suit. “one sec,” he frees a hand from the pumpkin shaped bucket of candy bars he’s holding to dig into the pocket of his suit jacket. some shuffling later, he pulls out the only real indicator that this would be a costume — a white half masquerade mask. he quickly puts it on before facing nathan once more. “i’m the phantom… from phantom of the opera? are you a fan of musicals, mayor?” vikram is certain he should know the answer to this but alas, his memory falls short.

𝖫𝖮𝖢𝖠𝖳𝖨𝖮𝖭　:　nathan's front door,  around  7pm 𝖲𝖳𝖠𝖳𝖴𝖲　:　open  for  anyone

“  aren't  you  a  bit  too  old  to  be  trick  or  treating?  ”  nathan  asks,  cradling  a  bowl  of  candy  on  his  hip  as  he  leans  against  his  cobweb-decorated  door.  there's  no  malice  in  his  tone,  if  anything  he's  amused,  chuckling  as  he  hands  them  over  a  few  fun-sized  chocolate  bars.  “  and  you're  supposed  to  be  …  ahh?  …  ”  he  wonders with  a  raised  brow,  gesturing  towards  their  costume.

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