YOU'RE  BIG.  LARGER  THAN  LIFE.  She’s  Heard  That  Before.  In  A  Voice  That  Sounded 

it will come back, hozier / you first, paramore

redcreek was a small town, which meant running into him was practically inevitable, she just didn’t expect it to happen like this. inside the grim little police station, with elliot wearing a uniform they never once envisioned him in. "sorry." they dip their head with a small laugh, realizing they were hovering by the door for a moment too long, "i didn't expect to see you here. wow. deputy mayers, huh? you always were...full of surprises." the words spill out before they could stop them, a poor attempt to defuse the tension, to break the awkwardness that had already started building.

fuck, they knew they should have prepared for this. done their due diligence of unblocking him on social media to check up on his life the moment they made it back to town. now they're they were, blindsided by the sight of him. stuck between two worlds— getting down to business or slipping into memory lane. their gaze flickers to his left hand, instinctively searching for the answer to their most pressing question... had he found someone to give him what kennedy couldn't? he isn't wearing a ring, but that's not enough to give a solid answer. they quickly shift to his badge, needing something professional to anchor themselves to.

kennedy finally sits down, their back straight, a practiced composure taking over as they pull the journal from their bag. "right. alaina price." they pause. the room felt smaller now. they want to think ahead, to push past the unease in the room, but their thoughts keep drifting back to the past. to elliot. "look," kennedy sighs, allowing themselves the momentary lapse in focus. "i’m not here for… anything personal. i just need information on alaina." they aren't sure why they're even telling him this. "i know you can’t share everything right now, but anything would help. the town’s already asking questions, elliot. starting rumors. they need something to hold them over." her words hung in the air, heavy and pointed, as she searched his face for any crack that might offer a clue, a sign of what he was willing—or able—to say. it wasn’t just about the case anymore. she knew that. but right now, it had to be.

IT'S REALLY NO SURPRISE that the moment elliot comes back from his coffee break, he's nearly accosted by the office secretary barreling through his door. there's someone from the press here, and the sheriff is out, she tells him. can i bring her in ? elliot figured they both knew that demetrius probably didn't want anyone in the office speaking to press without him—least of all elliot—but he's been on the job long enough to know the answer to give : no comment at this time. " fine, " he sighs. he's sipping his coffee when there's a knock at his opened door, eyes glancing over the coffee cup as he finishes his sip—and chokes on his drink. " kennedy. " oh, fuck. he'd been doing so well not running into her, and now here she is, looking like this is the last place she expected him. at least right now, the feeling is mutual.

coffee on the table, he finds himself standing out of his chair, a jolt of adrenaline hitting him harder than the caffeine so far has. " um, take a seat, " he motions to the chair in front of his desk, suddenly unsure what to do with his hands. fuck, his uniform has never felt two sizes too big until now—not even when demetrius is giving him one of his deep sighs. " what can i do for you ? " he asks once she's sat, hesitantly sitting back down as well. maybe talking business is the way to get through this moment.

♰  ⋅  ⋆  ───  #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.

"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.  ”

“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.

   ❝ 𝚈𝙾𝚄  𝙶𝚄𝚈𝚂  𝙰𝚁𝙴  𝙹𝚄𝚂𝚃  𝙰𝚂  𝙵𝚄𝙲𝙺𝙴𝙳  𝚄𝙿  𝙰𝚂  𝙸  𝙰𝙼 ,  𝚈𝙾𝚄 '𝚁𝙴  𝙹𝚄𝚂𝚃  𝙱𝙴𝚃𝚃𝙴𝚁  𝙰𝚃  𝙻𝚈𝙸𝙽𝙶  𝚃𝙾  𝚈𝙾𝚄𝚁𝚂𝙴𝙻𝚅𝙴𝚂  𝙰𝙱𝙾𝚄𝚃  𝙸𝚃 !  . . .  𝚈𝙾𝚄 '𝚁𝙴  𝙻𝙸𝚅𝙸𝙽𝙶  𝙾𝙽  𝚃𝙷𝙴  𝙱𝚁𝙸𝙽𝙺  𝙹𝚄𝚂𝚃  𝙻𝙸𝙺𝙴  𝙼𝙴 ! ❞

 //   (  natasha  lyonne .  cisfemale .  she/her ) .   ⸻ JOANNA  ‘JOEY’  HARLOW,  a forty  four  year  old,  has  survived  another  day  in  red  creek  where  they  have  lived  for  her whole  life  . THE  BROKEN  RECORD  is   known   for   being  audacious  and destructive  and  is  often  associated  with  cackling  laughter  over  loud  music,  chipped  red  nail  polish,  a  pack  of  camel  cigarettes  tucked  in  a  back  pocket,  a  crude  sense  of  humor  .  in   a   small   town   where   they   work   as  the  owner  of  redstone  bar,  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:  the  trailer  park  life,  sobriety  chips  scattered  on  the  floor  of  a  1985  ford  f150,  making  a  bad  situation  worse,  gaslighting  yourself  into  believing  you’re  tougher  than  you  really  are,  constant  reminders  of  everything  you've  lost,  looking  for  dopamine  in  the  worst  places.

[ Ⅰ ]  .  .  .  𝐁𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐒 

full  name. joanna mae harlow.  nicknames.  joey, joe,  jm.  age.  44.  race.  white. nationality.  american.  birthday.  december 21st.  zodiac.  sagittarius. gender.  cisfemale.  pronouns.  (  she   /  her  ).  sexual  orientation.  pansexual.  birthplace.  redcreek,  michigan.  occupation.  owner of redstone bar.

[ Ⅱ ]  .  .  .  𝐅𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐘

mother  :  helen harlow father  :  cameron harlow siblings:  tristan harlow ( presumed dead )  , might make a wc for more siblings!

[ Ⅲ ]  .  .  .  𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓

TW: brief mentions of death, grief, & substance abuse.

*  in  a  small  town  where  everyone  knows  each  other,  it's  easy  to  get  an  idea  of  someone's  character  just  by  the  stories  attached  with  a  surname. for  the  harlows,  their  name  was  often  associated  with  trouble  because  wherever  there  was  any  to  be  found,  it  was  almost  always  guaranteed  that  a  harlow  kid  was  involved  in  one  way  or  another.  * comfortably  nestled  in  a  trailer  park  just  a  couple  blocks  away  from  the  main  road,  this  family  of  misfits  were  known  to  be  loud,  crude,  and  quick  to  piss  off.  damn proud of it too -- wore  the  title  of  redcreek's  trashiest  family  like  a  badge  and  joanna  harlow  was  no  exception.  * a  firecracker  of  a  kid,  known  to  have  the  mouth  of  a  sailor  and  the  disposition  of  a  renegade.  she  had  a  talent  for  playing  the  bass  guitar,  a  talent  that  she  gained  from  her  older  brother  -  tristan.  it  was  an  ongoing  joke  that  joey  was  tristan's  mini-me.  they  were  the  spitting  image  of  each  other,  both  in  physicality  and  temperament. * joey  was  nineteen  when  tristan  went  missing  and  that  was  when  her  world  turned  upside  down.  her  family  were  among  the  many  broken  by  the  events.  many  in  her  inner  circle  felt  like  they  had  to  distance  themselves  from  joey,  finding  her  familiarity  to  tristan  too  much  to  handle,  including  her  own  parents * TW: DRUG MENTION:  so  with  everyone  in  her  life  too  busy  dealing  with  their  own  grief,  joey  all  but  isolated  herself  further  by  turning  to  the  first  break  she  could  find  –  drugs.  she  had  her  first  taste  of  them  when  she  was  looking  through  tristan's  room,  in  search  for  answers  to  what  could  have  happened  to  him.  instead  of  a  note  though,  she  found  a  stash  of  fine  white  powder  tucked  in  little  tiny  ziploc  bags.  * the  rest  of  her  life  from  there  has  been  a  blur.  she  never  left  redcreek.  never  managed  to  fulfill  her  dream  of  becoming  a  big  musician.  somehow  managed  to  sober  up  and  gain  enough  money  to  buy  a  shitty  building  and  turn  it  into  what  is  now  known  as  redstone  bar.  * one  doesn't  always  know  what  they  will  get  with  joey.  she’s  just  as  likely  to  start  a  fight  as  she  is  to  offer  a  drink  so  most  people  tend  to  proceed  with  caution.

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘  :  a  girl  who  was  set  on  a  path  of  bad  decisions  by  her  rambunctious  family  grows  to  become  a  mess  of  a  woman,  ricocheting  between  recovery  and  relapse.  her  dreams  of  leaving  town  and  becoming  a  rockstar  were  squashed  the  moment  her  brother  went  missing.  punk  meets  small-town  hick.

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

wc  pinterest  |  wc  tag

[ Ⅴ ]  .  .  .  𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘

＋adventurous＋unapologetic ＋protective －selfish －unreliable －volatile mbti  :  ISFJ natal  chart  : ↑  aquarius, ⊙ sagittarius, ☾ aquarius inspired  by  : natalie scatorccio ( yellowjackets ),  mercutio  ( romeo &  juliet ),  eleanor shellstrop ( the good place ), fleabag ( fleabag )

PUSHING DAISIES 1x01 - Pie-lette

 impatience oozes off him like expensive cologne. patchouli, sandalwood, and financial privilege all wrapped up in a smug, pearly-white grin. they’ve only known each other for a handful of months but kennedy deduces this might be where their professional differences lie. ricardo is a master at gliding his vibe meter between ball busting and indifference,. they got the impression that to him, results matter more than details ( or means? ) . kennedy on the other hand? is meticulous, incessant in their need to look at every angle, to leaving no stone unturned in pursuit for a good story the truth.  but they can play the game. have been around enough white collar honchos to learn the fine art of capitalizing. they lean in, lowering their voice to what could almost be a whisper but it's too sharp to fully make the cut. “it makes sense, doesn’t it? with her disappearance still fresh on everyone’s mind, it’s only natural for people to wonder if she has finally been found.” kennedy won’t confirm nor deny if they had a part in planting or spreading that seed but know if they had — they would have covered their tracks. “i say we throw that on there if the body isn’t identified by the time the paper hits.”  it doesn’t have to be right. they can word it so it sounds like they’re simply reporting on what the masses are fearing. if anything, it’ll add to the mystery of daniela’s disappearance if the body isn’t hers. a grim thought, freshly picked from a dark corner of kennedy's psyche that always seems to gnaw at them in times like this. the part best kept in the confines of her own subconscious.

 the silence that surrounds them is heavy, two pairs of eyes linked to each other in momentary… understanding? who knows. whatever it is, it breaks the moment he speaks up again and kennedy has to resist the urge to roll their eyes when he asks if they’ve collected statements. instead, settle on a sugary smile, picture perfect as the good little reporter they are. “yes, sir.” feed into the hysteria — now there is something the two can agree with. “unless you’re an incel dressing up as a rich asshole in a suit.” kennedy replies with a shrug of her shoulder, making a point to leave the ‘unbelievably hot’ portion of his get up out. they know better than to confirm or deny such an egocentric statement. besides, if he’s gonna make his employees walk alone in their fake blood-soaked prom dress on the night a body was literally discovered then it doesn’t matter how attractive he is — kennedy will label him a woman hater regardless. so they start walking, ultimately giving him the option to follow or not, though fully expecting him to. “well, boss. you have to expand your movie taste if you don’t know who i am dressed as.” or is it that he really doesn’t care? “what’s your favorite film?” they're expecting him either to list some raunchy film directed by a weird indie director or the wolf of wall street. 

he moves his index finger as kennedy talks , signalling she get to the point quicker . he's hearing a lot of BUMPS in the road and ricardo doesn't care for them . he doesn't care HOW they get the story , he just needs to know that they WILL . and in true fashion , they finally deliver those magical words . something on your desk by five . ricardo's face ghosts with an almost genuinely pleased smile . while it's clear that kennedy doesn't care for ricardo , and ricardo is like brutus in that he cares for nobody in return . . . he's appreciative that he can come close to TRUSTING them to always deliver . at the mention of the estrada's , ricardo feels himself do a double - take . for some reason , he hadn't even considered that . " is that what they're saying ? " his voice is harsh . " that it's daniela estrada ? " ricardo feels a sharpness overcome him , something akin to a lightning strike before a storm . he allows silence to wash over them . a RARITY , before he continues . " have you gotten statements from people who were around ? the more hysteric , the better . " he doesn't need to tell them how to do their job , but a change in topic is welcome . HE ROLLS HIS EYES . " please . an incel could never dress this nice . " he flattens his hands , smoothing them over his dolce , tailor fit blazer . " i'm dressed as a rich , yet unbelievably hot , asshole in a suit . " ricardo replies , voice flat yet smooth as always . his eyes graze past kennedy . " i'd ask what you are but i don't care and i'm sure it breaches some workplace relation with me being your boss . "

location : the dance floor @ the warehouse

time : approximately 10:30pm.

open : to anyone!

“are you thirsty? wanna grab a drink?” kennedy half yells into the other’s ear, yet her voice is barely audible over the music pumping around them. fingers flutter down the other's arm, ready to grab hold of their wrist to lead them out of the dance floor or loosely interlace her digits with theirs to twirl them around. depends on their answer!