chappcdlips

[chappcdlips]

he looks up, eyebrows lifting slightly at angela and the bag of rocks, "shopping spree?" though, he slips the bracelet onto his wrist without question and doesn't state the obvious - that he doesn't think any of this will protect him if the killer really wants him dead. "do i have to keep the stone in my pocket for it to protect me? or can it protect me from my desk at home?" he picks it up, running his fingers over the surface of the black rock, "i dunno anything about this crystal stuff." he admits. then, he gestures to the bag, "i hope you got some protective rocks for yourself in there too. otherwise, i'm going over there and buying more." and despite the recent loss of his cousin, all the victims thus far point to angela being a much more likely target then him, especially with daniela still gone. "and, y'know, maybe some pepper spray for good measure? a taser? how hard do you think it is to get a functional taser around here?"

𝘄𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲.　deer lake, around 7:30pm. 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵.　griffin talbot. @chappcdlips

〔　🦇　〕　　…　　𝗮𝗻𝗴𝗲𝗹𝗮  𝘀𝗲𝘁𝘀  𝗮  𝗯𝗮𝗴  𝗼𝗳  𝗰𝗿𝘆𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗹𝘀  𝗱𝗼𝘄𝗻  𝗼𝗻  𝘁𝗵𝗲  𝘁𝗮𝗯𝗹𝗲,  having  gone  to  the  sisters  of  the  moon  popup  for  a  reading,  only  to  come  away  with  much  more  despite  her  disdain  for  the  fundraiser  in  general.  why  should  she  give  the  sheriff's  department  her  money?  she  doubts  that  they'll  make  good  use  of  it,  her  trust  in  them  has  been  dwindling  with  every  second  that  passes  without  any  updates  on  daniela.   “  here,  ”  she  mutters,  handing  griffin  a  hematite  bracelet  and  a  black  tourmaline  stone.  “  it's  for  protection.  i  wanted  to  get  you  a  few  more  things,  but  i  thought  it'd  be  overkill.  ”  she'd  never  admit  it,  but  there's  a  small  part  of  her  that's  a  little  paranoid.  her  sister  is  missing,  her  former  babysitter  is  dead,  and  now  her  best  friend's  cousin  is,  too.  despite  the  pattern,  the  killer  is  still  unpredictable  in  ways,  and  she  didn't  want  to  risk  anything  before  it's  too  late.

[chappcdlips]

"with the amount of glasses they've got here? at least 45% of them are bound to be a little broken." cyrus assured with a slight shake of his head, "not your fault." he'd heard about the memorial, about the extra names, though he hadn't gone himself too busy with chasing his kids around. and he knew zeynep's name was there. he wasn't going to bring it up, but when she volunteered a quip about it, he hummed, "they'll notice." a pause, "we'll notice." it felt easy to provide that assurance. it felt true. in a town like red creek, with a family like zeynep's? he was sure everyone would know, that everyone would worry. he let out a soft sigh, leaning back in his seat, "and it's not going to happen, okay? nothing is going to happen." of course, cyrus couldn't promise that, but it was no use harping on the worst possible outcome, it would get them all nowhere.

location: redstone bar

time & date: february 15 & 6:00pm

status: open to everyone !

“it  was  an  accident,  i  swear!”  the  words  rushed  out  in  a  furious  whisper, she hadn't even noticed that she wasn't alone.  zeynep  pushed the empty glass she had been inspecting away from herself, before signaling the bartender for another around.  “the  glass  was  cracked  when  i  picked  it  up,  who  knows  how  long  it’s  been  defective...right?” she couldn't help but cringe at the sound of her voice, the brief crack felt foreign. no part of her wanted to admit that her name etched into the memorial had left her frightened. zeynep knew fear, it had plagued her nights. every red and blue flashing light had left her in a cold sweat for years. “anyways, apparently i'm on a hit list. they might not even notice before i become the next missing myth in town.” the words flowed so flippantly from her that zeynep could almost fool herself with the feigned nonchalance. “you don't think they'll notice, do you?”

[chappcdlips]

Anais Nin, The diary of Anais Nin vol. 1: 1931 - 1934.

[chappcdlips]

besides being a lifelong part of the town, shreya's gone to the memorial to cover it for the paper. she expected it would mostly be a puff piece with some in memoriam type parts to balance it, make it a respectful piece. but as soon as the veil drops, there's a gasp, and suddenly the piece isn't an article commemorating the town's losses. it's replaced with something darker, something hard to read and something even harder to write. "what the hell?" she murmurs, wide eyes flicking over the extra names, the names of people she knows, some of people she cares deeply about. when alara grabs her hand, shreya glances over, the realization that alara's own family is represented on the new list washing over her. "fuck. i... do you want to get out of here?" is what she asks, empathy bowling over the journalist inside of her.

LOCATION : the candlelit memorial , sometime around 5pm . open to everyone .

there  was  something  so  surreal  about  the  things  that  were  happening  in  red  creek  ,  for  the  first  time  the  thoughts  touching  her  in  more  than  just  a  passing  way  .  when  she  was  younger  ,  she  had  been  so  idealistic  ,  protected  by  her  parents  and  looking  forwards  to  life  .  she  thought  now  that  maybe  her  eyes  were  opening  little  by  little  to  what  was  really  going  on  and  how  those  losses  must  feel  ,  empathetic  heart  bleeding  more  and  more  for  those  left  behind  .  she  isn't  there  for  personal  mourning  but  to  think  about  the  lives  that  have  been  lost  ,  to  consider  the  hole  they  left  in  the  world  and  all  their  lives  .  then  ,  the  veil  is  pulled  back  and  there's  more  writing  than  she  remembers  ,  a  second  for  her  brain  to  catch  up  to  the  foreign  thing  that  is  taking  place  ...  she  doesn't  make  a  noise  as  others  seem  to  have  some  kind  of  reaction  .  blink  once  .  instinctually  ,  she  reaches  out  and  grabs  onto  the  hand  of  the  person  standing  beside  her  ,  having  came  alone  ,  separated  initially  from  anyone  .  it  is  almost  a  knee  jerk  reaction  but  she  doesn't  let  go  ,  least  of  all  trying  to  comprehend  the  presence  of  her  sisters  name  .  not  a  word  spoken  .  fight  ,  flight  ...  freeze  .

[chappcdlips]

"just respect me? damn. can't even throw a love in there?" cyrus teased, leaning against the kitchen counter and folding his arms across his chest, "you could have just put a few movies on, i wouldn't tell the missus they're going over their screentime for the day." he chuckled. he didn't particularly care about the screentime thing as long they were both still signed up for at least one extracurricular or sport. though, too much time on the ipad seemed like it would rot their brains. "you know i appreciate you watching them." he nodded at tori, "i'd like to think they're less of a handful than our little siblings were." and he was at times too, but cyrus had a knack for rewriting history and any of his own troubles no longer existed in his personal retelling. "they'll eat vegetables, don't you worry. they aren't allowed to get up from the table until they do." he grinned, "zeke sat there until almost nine once when we had brussel sprouts." then he sighed, nodding his head toward her mug, "do you have any decaf?"

LOCATION  :  cromwell  house  . TIME  :  six  o'clock  ,  dinner time  . STATUS  :  closed for @chappcdlips  !

ducking  into  the  kitchen  ,  tori  let  out  the  deep  breath  she  had  been  holding  since  her  niece  and  nephew  had  arrived  that  afternoon  .  time  heals  all  wounds  and  apparently  also  rids  you  of  the  stamina  it  takes  to  handle  two  kids  under  the  age  of  ten  .  her  maternal  instincts  would  probably  never  fade  ,  honed  to  near  perfection  from  before  she  could  do  basic  algebra  ,  but  cy's  kids  were  …  well,  cy's  kids  .  which  meant  they  were  just  like  not  him  ,  not  just  in  appearance  .  he  used  to  get  on  her  every  nerve  ,  probably  more  than  their  other  siblings  ,  and  while  the  kids  weren't  quite  at  that  level  of  aggravating  yet  ,  they  were  certainly  climbing  the  ranks  .  a  healthy  dinner  of  her  making  ,  with  all  the  necessary  food  groups  accounted  for  sat  before  them  in  the  dining  room  and  she  checked  on  the  decidely  unhealthy  desert  :  cinnamon  rolls  absolutely  smothered  in  icing  .  at  the  sound  of  the  kitchen  door  swinging  open  ,  she  turned  to  look  at  her  brother  ,  taking  a  sip  of  her  jack  -  spiked  cola  in  a  mug  .  “  you're  very  lucky  i  respect  you  or  else  i  would've  sat  them  in  front  of  some  very  colorful  disney  movies  and  that  would've  been  the  extent  of  my  babysitting  duties  .  ”

[chappcdlips]

an unfortunate situation. griffin thinks that's a bit of an understatement, but he can tell from the look on his dad's face that he isn't necessarily in the greatest headspace. neither is griffin, to be fair. neither is most of the town, probably. he lets out a breath, nodding at his dad, "it's... it doesn't really feel real, y'know?" and he knows it's still fresh and there aren't a lot of details, but it's so surreal.

he's a little bit terrified and a lot worried about his family and the people he cares about. he wants nathan to tell him that everything is going to be fine, but griffin knows he can't, he knows that's an impossible ask. with everything that's been going on? he can't see a future where things get better, just maybe less terrifying. because even if he survives this, if everyone he loves survives this, nothing will ever be the same. "i don't work today, so... yeah, yeah, i'll be home. i'll stay home." griffin nods. he swallows hard, tugging on the sleeves of his sweatshirt as he stares at his dad. "dad..." he hesitates a moment, feeling a little bit stupid at what he's considering asking, once again that same seven-year-old instinct washing over him, his cheeks go pink with embarrassment, "can i hug you?"

〔　🦂　〕　　…　　𝗶𝗻  𝗮𝗻  𝗮𝘁𝘁𝗲𝗺𝗽𝘁  𝘁𝗼  𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗲𝗹  𝗵𝗶𝗺𝘀𝗲𝗹𝗳,  nathan  looks  griffin  in  the  eyes,  hopes  the  presence  of  his  youngest  son  could  help  pull  himself  together  but  the  forlorn  look  on  his  face  is  almost  enough  to  break  him.  his  heart  is  caught  in  his  throat,  trapped  between  the  scream  trying  to  claw  its  way  out  of  him  and  all  the  secrets  he  cannot  dare  to  say.  the  answer  is  so  simple  —  she  was  murdered  —  and  yet  he  can't  bring  himself  to  say  it  out  loud.  never  in  his  life  has  he  felt  so  powerless,  drained  of  all  the  confidence  that  typically  came  to  him  like  second  nature.  it  used  to  be  so  easy  answering  all  of  griffin's  questions,  but  not  he  doesn't  even  know  what  to  say.  “  an  unfortunate  situation,  that's  what.  ”  but  it's  more  than  that,  and  he  knows  it.  it's  an  act  of  violence,  it's  a  warning.  kirby's  death  was  likely  not  a  stroke  of  bad  luck  if  whoever  killed  her  is  trying  to  put  the  blame  on  him.  the  only  thing  nathan  doesn't  know  is  why.  he  heaves  a  heavy  sigh.  “  would  it  be  be  too  much  to  ask  you  to  stay  home  today?  i  can't  —  i  —  ”  i  can't  risk  losing  you  too.  “  i  don't  think  it's  safe  to  be  outside  right  now.  ”

[chappcdlips]

always vaguely feeling like im in trouble for something but idk what

[chappcdlips]

"Sorry... sorry, I didn't mean to freak you out." Griffin murmured, moving out of the doorway and into the room. He felt bad, terrible even, that he had accidentally stumbled upon his mom having a moment he was sure she didn't want him to witness. But he was glad, too, that she didn't have to be alone right now. "Mom..." He shook his head, "it's alright." It probably sounded stupid, since nothing really was 'alright,' but he wasn't completely sure what to do or say under these circumstances. "We'll get it cleaned up, Mom." He whispered, stepping forward and wrapping his arms around her for a hug, "It's gonna be fine, Dad won't see." Though, given the situation, he wasn't sure his dad would be worried about something so trivial in comparison to everything else. He let out a slightly shuddery breath as he hugged her, trying his best not to lose his composure. Griffin wasn't generally that composed, mostly a nervouse wreck, but he felt like he had to be now. He felt like he owed it to his family to be strong. His dad always seemed so strong, his mom too, maybe he just wanted to prove that he was a Talbot after all. Prove that he could handle the tough stuff and still keep his head up.

He pulled away after a moment, crouching down to deal with the clothes scattered across the floor, "Is there a... y'know, a system? A donate pile or anything?" He asked her, picking up a wrinkled blouse on the top of one of the piles. He figured Charlotte's meltdown wasn't just about the clothes, but he thought dealing with the mess was a good place to start.

closed starter with: charlotte and griffin (@chappcdlips) setting: "her" and nathan's bedroom, 6pm, the night before the funeral

Clothes were everywhere, piled haphazardly in no discernible pattern, and Charlotte sat in the middle of it like the eye of a hurricane. There was a wild, desperate look in her eyes as she picked through items, giving each a brief look before tossing it in one of her piles and moving on to the next. She’d been doing it for hours at this point, and was so lost in the process that she jumped when she saw Griffin in her peripheral vision. “Oh God, you scared me Griff!” She threw the shirt in her hand on top of a pile to her right, suddenly deeply self-conscious of the disaster zone she’d created, and a long line of explanation began to tumble haphazardly out of her mouth. “I needed a dress for tomorrow, and I didn’t have anything in the guest room closet, so I came up here to look for something, and I just kept finding all these old clothes that I never wear, and I started to think, why don’t I just donate all of these stupid things that are just collecting dust,” she rambled, her voice growing more strained as she spoke. “And now I’ve just created this huge mess in a room that’s not even mine anymore, and that’s not even mentioning the fact that I am apparently not capable of finding a single black dress that I can wear to your cousin’s funeral.” Charlotte choked on the last word, fighting the overwhelming urge to crumple in on herself. She mindlessly moved some clothes around, trying to keep her trembling hands busy, biting the inside of her cheek to maintain her faltering composure. “Can you help me get these clothes put away before your father gets home?” Her voice dripped with embarrassment. This mess was evidence of her unraveling- something Griffin shouldn’t have to see, and something Nathan couldn't see. 

[chappcdlips]

"yeah, if you're a masochist who wants to get your heart broken, a mess is alluring." and she had plenty experience with that sort of attraction unfortunately, but it always made for a good story and isn't that what really mattered at the end of the day? "alright, alright, relax, i'm just giving you shit. the article was fine, bash. not a lot you can fucking do in this sort of situation." shreya shrugged before taking a long drink of her dirty shirley. she stirred the straw around, tilting her head to the side and humming, "i mean, i'm glad i didn't have to write it." she'd rather stick to the not highly publicized stuff. she was, of course, a self-proclaimed personality hire.

THE SMOOTH BUZZ WAS a lazy attempt to rid of any frustrations vibrating within his body. the whole town felt on edge, ready to fall at the slightest drop of a pin. he shrugged at shreya's rebuttal nonchalantly. ❝ never mentioned beauty , some people would argue even messes can be alluring , ❞ he meant that truly, even if it wasn't relevant for the woman side him. what were humans if not all poetically broken? still, the dig at the headline caused his lighthearted mannerisms to tighten. it wasn't something he was particularly proud of, which was unfortunate considering he was rather protective over his work. but news came out, deadlines were due, the opportunity was painted in red that now stained his hands. ❝ right , like i had a fucking choice . ' hey bennett , can i take the day off to mourn this latest tragdy ? ' ' yeah , let's just shut down the register for the day . ' that sounds practical . ❞ he mused with irritation, rolling his eyes in irritability as he downed his drink in response.

[chappcdlips]

I know I sound like your mom but you kids need to stop fucking vaping

[chappcdlips]

[chappcdlips]

10 Things ALDIS HODGE Can’t Live Without ❘ GQ

[chappcdlips]

the pinch grabs his attention and he glances over, eyes meeting piper's for just a split second before she heads off. without words he knows and he follows. just like he has since he was a kid, followed behind his older siblings. anywhere. off a cliff if that's what piper told him was cool. "you okay?" griffin asks as they get outside, pulling at the sleeves of his too-short jacket. it's a dumb question because he knows nothing is okay and he felt that same way she did in there, the grief and sadness weighing on everyone, making it hard to even think straight. "some of the flowers in there are dying already. they should've caught that. the bereavement committee people or whatever."

🗝️ dedicated to griffin talbot / @chappcdlips . 📍 redemption chappell ( kirby's funeral service ) .

the   one   place   that   should   feel   safe   merely   laces   piper's   very   bones   with   discomfort.   the   emotions   of   funeral   attendees   loom   over   their   heads;   a   cloud   of   gloom   that   is   almost   palpable,   a   fog   so   heavy   that   it   suffocates—   she   stands   suddenly.   there   are   surely   only   minutes   to   spare   before   a   sermon   begins   &   being   here   feels   impossible.   fingers   pinch   at   the   fabric   of   griffin's   shirt,   then   withdraw   like   she's   been   scorched.   it's   irresponsible   to   pull   him   away   from   their   family   mourning,   but   it's   also   a   silent   plea—   walk   out   with   me.   don't   make   me   leave   alone.   she   blinks   down   at   him,   then   spins   on   her   heel.

[chappcdlips]

he has a bagged chocolate croissant clutched in his hand, making his way toward a back table when there's suddenly coffee all over his sweatshirt and a woman practically yelling. it takes him a moment to get his wits about him before he's locking eyes with his aunt. she looks a little different than her facebook pictures, it's almost like seeing a ghost. his eyes go wide and he opens and closes his mouth like a goldfish as he stares at her. "rebec — aunt rebecca." his voice is quieter (quieter than usual) and he shakes his head, "um, it's not that bad. i'm fine, really." he glances over his shoulder as if his dad's going to be there watching this interaction that almost feels forbidden then back at the woman in front of him. "are... are you in town for the... for the service?" he trips over his words a bit and shakes his head, "no, sorry. sorry, i'm really sorry. really sorry about kirby." how many times are you gonna say sorry? he mentally kicks himself, grabbing for some more napkins from a nearby table, uttering another 'sorry' as he apologizes to the pair sitting at that table.

"i think i have another sweatshirt in my backpack anyway. it's okay." griffin insists, thanking a barista as they come over with a rag for the floor and the table rebecca spilled the other one all over. he's avoiding eye contact with his aunt, trying to pretend like he can even focus a little bit on cleaning up the mess and not the mess that is the talbot family and their dynamics. it's just his luck, of course, to run into her at random in a situation like this. he guesses it's a least a little bit better than seeing her at the funeral for the first time. though, the whole town has felt a bit like a wake lately.

 ⸻ 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘶𝘴 ﹐ closed for @chappcdlips / griffin talbot.

 ⸻ 𝘭𝘰𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 ﹐ early rise bakery & cafe.

rebecca sat slouched in the corner of the cafe, oversized sunglasses hiding bloodshot eyes, nursing a lukewarm coffee that was doing very little to cut through the haze of a nasty hangover. the dull hum of chatter, clinking cups and that damn door that jingled every time someone walked through it was grating on her last nerve ; she thought it'd be better than sitting alone at the motel with just her misery, regret and a pounding headache to keep her company, but turns out she was wrong.

head spins as she stands up too quickly, not noticing the figure in her path until it was too late ; coffee drops to the floor, pooling around both of their feet. " what the f*** !? — ugh, watch where you're going, dude ! " totally her fault. she looks up, ready to take out her problems on the poor stranger, but instead her jaw drops at the sight of the young man staring back at her. the resemblance is uncanny — nathan's jawline, the talbot eyes ( though somewhat less scheming ). realization struck like a slap to the face, which is what she actually deserved. " griffin. " tone softens as guilt takes over from irritation, though a mix of horror and embarrassment was still present on her face. his name lingers in the air between them, the silence verging on awkward, before she snaps out of it. " oh, god, i'm sorry — here, let's get you cleaned up. " she reaches over a nearby table, aiming for the napkins but instead knocking over another cup of coffee, this time not her own. now would be a good time for the ground to swallow her whole.

[chappcdlips]

attempting to get a cup of coffee before he headed home, cyrus was distracted by the voice beside him at the counter. he glanced over at soren, an eyebrow lifting, "it's because it's bad for you." he deadpanned, too irritated to actually put up any sort of act. his day had been too long and the statement too annoying. cyrus was practically pathological about how he treated his own body and so always thought that everyone else must hold themselves to the same standards, "your body is a temple. everything you put in it matters." cyrus explained, tone only really slightly pretentious, "you're too young to be messing up your body like that." he shook his head, "what is it? the aesthetic of cigarettes? not worth the smell or the diseases. trust me." he sighed, thanking the waitress as she set his coffee in front of him, "stick to caffeine or something. and don't start that damn vaping. we don't even know the long-term health consequences of that."

location: dolly's diner time: late afternoon status: open!

something about diners. greasy leather seats. overheard secrets tangled up with the clatter of forks. bitter, often stale coffee -- unless you got lucky enough to walk in when the place was mostly empty. unlikely. the kind of place where time hangs heavy, like it got tired and sat down to rest in the corner booth. red creek felt the same, like it had long surrendered to time’s weight instead of running alongside it. no reinvention, no salvation -- just a stubborn place clinging to people like mud after rain, or maybe quicksand, tugging until they sank without a fight. soren didn't have to imagine dark things haunting its bones when its effect where already laying there, sprawled out for anyone willing to see. maybe ancient spirits seeking revenge after having their forever homes suffocated with asphalt and cement. maybe nothing at all, just the weight of a town folding in on itself, vanishing into a fog you didn’t know you’d entered until it was too late. soren wouldn't flinch if someone shattered the silence with a lynchian scream -- sinister close-ups, faces trembling under the pressure of things better left unsaid -- right there in the diner, right as he staed at his gone stale coffee. and perhaps it was his obsession with intricate stories that blurred the line with reality, but twin peaks really didn't feel like fiction anymore; it was a blueprint, a warning for places like this, where the mundane teetered on the edge of surreal, where time sagged, like peeling wallpaper in a room sealed off for too long, and good people stumbled into band endings. even diners -- those greasy churches of familiarity -- could warp into confessional booths. soren let his face fall into his hands, elbows propped at the sides of the cup of coffee. if it had been steaming, it would've made a perfect shot. “ you know what's bullshit, ” he spoke as soon as he felt a presence next to him finally glad to push his inner monologue onto someone else, anyone unlucky enough to hear. he continued as his hands dropped to his lap, revealing a face worn thin by restless nights. “ the fact that they made it illegal to smoke in public places. especially diners. ” though it wasn't just diners. it was also cinemas, trains, pubs.... a beat. then two fingers lifted to his lips, mimicking the pitch of a cigarette between index and thumb. soren inhaled theatrically, face tilting upward as though savoring the hit. then, just as theatrically, he ground the phantom amber into an imaginary glass ashtray, the kind with ornate edges. clock. sound design coming from his tongue against his palate and he swat the phantom ashtray away, still dipped in his interactive daydream.

[chappcdlips]

ALDIS HODGE: Esquire Interview (2022)

[chappcdlips]

The best way to contact me is to meet me in my dreams at 3am