Brntout - * — 𝐛𝐞𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐝 / 𝑦𝑜𝑢 !

YOU'RE  BIG.  LARGER  THAN  LIFE.  she’s  heard  that  before.  in  a  voice  that  sounded  like  rafaels,  but  wasn't his.  close—painfully  so—  but  not  quite  as  deep.  the  familiarity  is  bittersweet,  endearment  and  affliction  flickering  through  her  almost  as  quickly  as  the  lights  around  them.  kennedy  is  glad  his  back  is  to  hers  then,  grateful  for  the  bodies  he  has  to  navigate  through,  taking  advantage  of  those  extra  seconds  gained  to  compose  herself  before  they  reach  their  destination.  “used  to?”  an  eyebrow  quirks  at  that,  lips  parted  in  a  silent  scoff.  “don’t  give  up  on  me  yet!  i  still  have  time.”  that's  what  they  would  like  to  tell  themselves  anyways.  that  one’s  life  isn’t  over  if  they  don’t  achieve  all  their  goals  by  age thirty.  that  her  return  to  redcreek  didn’t  mean  she  failed.  it  was  only  temporary. 

now  settled  by  the  bar,  kennedy  is  suddenly  aware  of  how  much  they  have  had  to  drink.  the  room  was  still  swaying  even  though  they  no  longer  were.  they  blink,  slowly,  the  buzz  from  the  liquor  washing  over  them  like  a  blanket,  warm  and  heavy.  maybe  that’s  why  it’s  easy  to  make  promises  for  next  time.  to  get  caught  up  in  the  excitement  of  reconnecting  with  him.  as  if  she  hadn’t  spent  the  last  years  carefully  curating  a  distance  between  them.  “yeah?  are  you  saying  i  can  just  show  up  one  day  and  ask  for  that  dance?  i  know  where  you  work,  velazquez.”  she  flashes  him  a  pleased  grin  as  he  slides  the  drink  her  way,  quick  to  raise  the  glass  to  her  lips.  “it  suits  you,  by  the  way.  the  tattoo  shop.  you  always  were  the  creative  one.”

isn’t  that  right,  joaquin?

the  thought  arises,  a follow-up that feels as natural as breathing,  but  gets  lodged in  her  throat  when  she  turns  to  share  a  look  with…  NO  ONE.  picture  frames  of  tender  moments,  but  no  house  to  hold  them  anymore.  is  that  what  grief  is?  as  rafael  leans  into  her  initial  touch,  her  hand  flattens  against  his  skin,  the  pads  of  her  fingers  pressing  weakly,  as  if  to  check  if he’s  really  here.  she only catches the tail end of his question, gaze flickering to meet his once more.  “no.”  she  breathes  out,  a  subtle  rasp  in  her  voice,  that  knot  tightening  over  her  chords.  dark  hues  scan  his  face,  committing  every  feature  to  memory.  as  if  he  too  was  going  to  disappear  the  moment  she  let  go.  “you  look  beautiful.”   once  again  taking  his  lead,  dropping  by  her  guard  to  reveal  an  unexpected  moment  of  sincerity  in  the  least  ideal  setting.  only  this  time,  she  doesn’t  have  the  time  to  think twice before another slip—  “i  really  missed  you,  you  know  that?”  

at  that,  rafael  laughs  -  a  small  shake  of  his  head  all  that's  needed  for  a  few  stray  stands  to  fall  over  his  eyes.  eyelashes  blinking  through  them  to  watch  her,  "i'd  love  to  see  what  you'd  do  with  that  power,  kennedy  -  you're,  big.  larger  than  life."  it's  something  joaquin  would  say;  the  memories  barely  skim  the  surface  of  his  thoughts  -  he  strikes  a  rainboot  through  them,  sinks  them  further.  "used  to  think  you'd  -  conquer  the  whole  world."  it's  genuine,  too  genuine  for  the  club  -  for  the  crowd  around  them,  for  the  buzz  at  the  back  of  his  head,  warming  where  spine  meets  skull.  "yeah,"  he  agrees,  easily;  a  passing  laugh,  "but  it's  still  true,  either  way."

his  forearms  meet  the  edge  of  the  bar,  still  close  to  kennedy  -  still  allowing  space  between  them.  it's  the  most  they've  spoken  since  -  since  then.  for  once;  rafael  doesn't  want  to  think  about  it.  "you  know  where  to  find  me,  ken  -  door's  always  welcome  for  a  good  -  waltz."  beer  left  on  the  counter,  rafael's  turned  towards  them,  sliding  the  tequila  sunrise  her  way.  he's  always  one  to  lean  into  touch,  subconscious  as  their  finger  hooks  onto  him.  another  laugh  escapes  him,  so  easy.  "you're  the  first  one  to  get  it,  i  think  -  yeah,  the  tall  guy.  dunno...  felt  easy,  at  the  time.  now  i'm  feeling  a  bit  like  a  -  misplaced  film  bro.  do  the  wings  make  me  look  pretentious,  ken?  you  can  -  be  honest,  with  me.  can  handle  the  truth."

♰  ⋅  ⋆  ───  #𝑩𝑹𝑵𝑻𝑶𝑼𝑻 .  .  .   is a  dependent,  multimuse blog  for  REDCREEKFM  brought  to  life  by  aime,  twenty7,  she/her,  mst.

Ⅰ . . . 𝚃𝙷𝙴  𝚂𝙷𝙴𝙿𝙷𝙴𝚁𝙳  —  vikram  shah.   thirty5.   he/him. funeral  director.

ⅠⅠ . . . 𝚃𝙷𝙴  𝙿𝚁𝙾𝙳𝙸𝙶𝚈  —  kennedy  stuart.   twenty8. she/they.   journalist/author.

Ⅲ . . . 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙱𝚁𝙾𝙺𝙴𝙽 𝚁𝙴𝙲𝙾𝚁𝙳  —  joey harlow.   forty4. she/her.   owner of redstone bar.

any mention of marie never fails to make kennedy advert their gaze from santiago. it's subtle, usually under the pretense of being occupied with something else, like inputing a password into a laptop. "thank you." they say, not willing to comment on the two reminders that passweord held. 3126— the house the two grew up in. marie—that house was never meant for kennedy and their mother to begin with.

it takes them back to one of their earliest memories as a new 'family'. at the time kennedy was certain their mother's attempt of uniting their two families was just a ploy to make her own father jealous. a classic move: mom and dad split. mom and dad introduce new partners. mom and dad get back together again. but suzanne's affinity with jonathan herrera was of a different beast. when suzanne wasn't with him, she was daydreaming about him—his wealth, his gifts, his home—3126. the future he would provide her and by extension, his daughter... and kennedy absolutely hated it. so the first time santiago mentions his mother and how she was not coming back, kennedy responds with. 'well my father isn't dead so he is.'

an apology had been given. indignantly. from behind her mother's legs. an 11 year old who knew the cruelty in their words but was too overwhelmed by their own emotions to worry about anyone else's. though the years had slowly managed to mend the bad foot in which the two started their sibling relationship, there is a part of kennedy that still replays that moment. they can still picture santiago's expression—the hurt in his brown eyes, raw and clear in their memory. he deserved a better apology and maybe tonight was the best night to finally give it—

"that's so depressing, santi. don't say that." they say instead, brows pinching together both at his words and at their own internal cowardice. "the city could suit you too, you know." now that they secured access to a laptop, kennedy's shoulders visibly relax. "you know what? after crashing in that disgusting dumpster fire that june, finch, and avery like to gaslight everyone into believing is an actual apartment... the guest room doesn't feel too bad." they say with a chuckle. if a zombie apocalypse hits kennedy swears that their apartment will be ground zero. "i was thinking of renting something closer to work for the time being." closer to santiago too.

then maybe jon's requests to 'talk some sense' into santiago would lessen to the occasional text or phone call. kennedy knew coming back to town would revert them back to the role they often played within the family— the devils advocate. if the oldest can't lead by example, they're expected to play the role of a third parent. "he doesn't mean it." there they go. "he’s just saying that cus he thinks it’ll... i don’t know. stir something in you.” a sigh escapes them then as they go pinch the bridge of their nose, the wright of the night settling in. "sorry, i know i brought it up but... can we not talk about our parents tonight? i don't want to fight." not when their chest still aches from the panic that gripped them earlier—the panic at the thought that the body found tonight might have been his.

⁑ he rolls his eyes at the comment, all in good fun. ❝ yup. i'm, uh, so well - versed in it, didn't even open the laptop to clear it out. ❞ all said while the dust on the laptop cover tells an entirely different story. as it hums to life, he presses the back of his hand to his temple – like added pressure could stop the pounding in his head. as an afterthought, he adds, ❝ password's marie three - one - two - six. ❞ ( small reminders of his late mother are constants throughout his daily life, if one was to look close enough. )

❝ sorry, freshly accepted i'm doomed to red creek livin' forever. the city suits you, though. ❞ a tired laugh escapes him. just 5 years ago, santi would've shrunk away from the thought. now, it's met with bittersweet acceptance. a life in red creek is— well, it's exactly what he deserves. a small sting ignites in his chest at mention of his own father's excitement. for all intents and purposes, kennedy was his child too. she probably saw his fatherly side more than santi ever would. ❝ noooo. just makin' sure they haven't roped you into a permanent residency of the guest bedroom or somethin'. ❞ he exhales sharply through his nose at the invitation, not quite in him to have a laugh over it. ❝ tell jon he can ask me himself. last i heard from him, i'm not welcome at the table. ❞

"already? i'm not done smelling the candles." he's been at it for fifteen minutes now, moving from one jar to the next like he was shopping for a new scent at a home goods store, not browsing the shelves of a psychic shop. "you know," he says, "i used to see this girl a couple years ago that was seriously obsessed with this shit? had a rock collection and everything. kept saying she was going to curse me if she ever found me cheating." clearly in no rush to leave, he looks up from the displayed candles to flash nadia a grin, amused by her accusation. "you're still here aren't you?" there it was again, that playful challenge in his voice, the same air of flirtation he always slipped in, whether or not she acknowledged it. "locking me up isn't the only way to have fun with me, nadia." his grin lingers. always hinting, always offering. he has yet to make a move to leave. instead, he resumes the task of sniff testing every candle the sisters of the moon has to offer "hurry up and close up then. i'll give you a ride home." his tone gives little room to argue but he'd never turn down an opportunity to. "unless you have plans after this?"

○    NOW DELIVERING TO . . .    ⏤ @brntout !

" we're closing up . " nadia announces to salvador , looking him up and down as she flips the sign on the door . if anyone should know sisters ' moon hours , it'd be HIM . nadia rests a hand on her hip , jutting it out as she turns to face him properly . " and there's nobody here left for you to hit on , which i know is the real reason you're here . " her voice is drier than ever . she knows salvador , because he is everywhere , all the time . with a smile , a glint in his eye . HE'S A FLIRT and not even a good one . the amount of times nadia rolls her eyes while hearing him try his way with hana could make her eyes permanently stick . " chop , chop , salvador . locking you inside here does sound fun but i need this job , and something tells me holding you hostage inside would get me fired . "

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

the  irritation  that  drips  off  nadia  only  serves  to  amuse  salvador further.  he  takes  a  step  back  when  nadia  approaches,  giving  her  enough  space  to  cut  in  front  of  him   and  rearrange  the  display.  there’s  one  candle  still  in  his  hand,  head  dipped  slightly  to  get  a  good  whiff,  but  he  can’t  tell  what  the  candle  is  supposed  to  smell  like—  too  busy  looking  at  nadia  through  dark  lashes.  a  scoff  escapes  him  at  her  quip,  “don't  be  ridiculous,  nadia. curses  aren't  real. ”  his  looks  were  natural,  thank  you!  “—and  i  didn’t  cheat  on  her.  not  technically.  we  were  never  officially  together.  you'd think the cosmos  would have— i don't know —given  her  a  memo  or  something.”  he  shrugs,  as  if  it  were  no  big  deal.  ‘cus  it  wasn’t.  not  to  him  at  least.  “you  don’t  actually believe in  all  this  shit,  do  you?  it’s  okay–  you  can  tell  me.  promise  i  won’t  tell  your  boss.”   he  chooses  not  to  address  the  surprise  in  her  tone  when  she  accepts  his  offer  to  take  her  home.  it’s  true that he’s  the  furthest  thing  from  a  gentleman—but  even  he  has enough  sense to not  let  nadia  walk  off  alone.  he’s  not  about  to  pat  himself  on  the  back  for  doing  the  bare  minimum.  not  when  it  comes  to  this. 

 it’s  her  reply  to  his  second  question  that  he  focuses  on,  a  laugh  breaking  out  from  him  at  her  reaction. how  graphic!  “you  wanna  stop  thinking  about  my  dick  for  a  moment?  i  was  genuinely  wondering  if  you  wanted  to  hit  up  some  pool.”  he  really  was,  but  the  way  his  eyes  flicker  to  her  lips  might  make  that  hard  to  believe.  if  he  was  a  better  man,  he  would  put  up  more  of  a  fight  to  ensure  nadia  didn’t  get  the  wrong  impression,  but  the  thought  was  there  now  that nadia had vocalized  it.  huh,  maybe  words  really were spells.   at  least,  the  ones  he  was  willing  to  listen  to.   “--or  is  that  how  manifestation  works?”  he  asks,  voice  playfully dipping  in  tone  as  he  steps  closer,  placing  that  candle  he  had been  holding  on  to  back  to  its  designated  spot.  “you  don’t  have  to  be  shy,  nads.  i  give  just  as  well  as  i  take  if  that’s  what  you're  worried  about.” 

nadia points to the sign she's flipped to now read CLOSED . " the candles are sure done with you . " she states easily . nadia will never understand his seeming obsession with this store other than YES , everyone who works here is hot ( herself included ) . nadia moves around him , her fingers automatically straightening up the candles he'd just been lifting and sniffing . " and she cursed you to look like this forever after you inevitably cheated on her , i'm guessing ? " she says easily , with a grin stretching her lips . nadia rolls her eyes at the easy way he turns it all on . it's like a sport , and he's MAYBE winning bronze ( not quite gold ) . she pulls a face at his comment about locking him up and any ideas of fun . as usual , she chooses to ignore it . nadia does pause though , at the offer of a drive home . she likes walking when she can , but hadn't thought that with everything going on currently and the sun now SETTING . it may not be the safest thing to walk home . a lift might actually be useful . " ok . thanks . " she says , not bothering to hide her surprise at his offer . she narrows her eyes . " i don't have any plans , but if your next best option is to give you a blowjob or something , then i do have plans : it's buying a gun and killing myself with it . "

FINAL DESTINATION 2000 | dir. James Wong

VIKRAM SHAH'S POLICE INTERROGATION

can you state your full name and age , please ?

"vikram shah. thirty five." he replies, voice steady despite the nervous bouncing of knee. it's clear that he is uncomfortable, has his hands resting on top of the interrogation table, his left thumb and index pressing on the valley point of his right hand. a pressure point known to reduce stress and migraines.

are you aware of why you're here today ?

"i'm assuming it's because of the knife right?" he looks between the two officers, frantic eyes hoping for validation. answers. anything. "does it have anything to do with... with the body that was reported?"

when was the last time you saw or spoke to alaina price ?

vikram doesn't like that they answer his question with one of their own but he tries to push past it. tries to focus on giving good answers rather than how clammy his hands suddenly feel. "alaina price?" he frowns. "i don't remember." a pause "please don't look at me like that. i really don't. "

what was your relationship with the victim ?

he looks away. hates feeling like he is under a microscope. his gaze lands on the corner of the table. uninteresting in every way but it's better than meeting the officer's analytical gaze. "i um, didn't have much of one. i don't have any kids so i never needed her services. i would see her around town sometimes but i rarely spoke to her."

were you aware of anyone who would want to hurt the victim ?

"no." he answers firmly, a sigh escaping him as he does. "no. as far as i know, everyone loves her. she is—" was? "—a valuable member of the town."

can you describe your whereabouts on the night of october 31st , 2024 ?

"i was um, out and about with everyone else in town."

is there anyone who can corroborate this ?

"i was with hana for a good portion of the night. before the warehouse shut down. then i spoke to kirby for a bit. made sure she didn't stray too far from the crowd." he closes his eyes then, knee still shaking, trying to recollect who he spoke to. "and in redstone uh, i think the only person who saw me was avery. everyone else was too preoccupied with their own shit." never one to throw around curse words, the profanity feels dirty on his tongue. reminds him of his younger, rougher days.

did you see and or hear anything unusual on the night of october 31st , 2024 ?

"aside from a body being found?" vikram scoffs and for a second it almost sounds like it might turn into a sob. death, he was accustomed to. but murder? "god, i was walking home when i saw azizi... standing over a bloody knife. it was behind the diner, so there wasn't a lot of light there. for a second it almost looked like.. i don't know. like he planted it there." it's all word vomit now, the stress of the situation settling in, heavy against his chest. if the officers exchange a look at that, vikram doesn't notice. hasn't looked back at them yet. "i don't think he did. it just, looked like it. i thought it was a prop at first. even made a joke about how real it looked. azi was the one who suggested we call the cops and so— here we are."

SUCCESSION (4.10) | WITH OPEN EYES