Chappcdlips - ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ꜱɪᴅᴇ

"i... i dunno," griffin admits, avoiding eye contact like a professional — professional in what? he's not sure. maybe just in being nervous, "my boss just tells me what's going on." and he goes along with it. that's what he's paid for. he looks up when the woman mentions his book, a slight smile on his face, "i really like her other work. and i agree, her writing style and the way she integrates everything thematically with realism and depth despite the subject matter... i could go on for days." he blushes a little, always a bit embarrassed when he talks too much about his interests, "is this all for you today?" he asks as he picks up the painkillers to scan.

" what a peculiar deal . " renee says aloud , fingers skimming over the shelves of products . she offers griffin a strained smile , tries to pretend not to be bothered by the omnipresence of the talbots wherever she turns . it's not his fault . none of this is his fault . he's so young , really . just like josie - and renee would hate for anyone to ever think poorly of her daughter just because of who her parents are . " not necessary for me , though . do you have extra stock or is it a christmas special ? " she slides down her packet of painkillers onto the counter . " shirley jackson has a way of showing women's desperation and grief so well . that's the real horror , in my opinion . " renee muses aloud , smile painted on her lips , never budging . " what made you pick it ? "

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

JESSICA HENWICK as PEG GLASS ONION: A KNIVES OUT MYSTERY 2022, dir. Rian Johnson

for? OPEN where? the pharmacy

he doesn't look up as the door swings open with another customer, keeping his gaze trained on the open book in front of him – it's shirley jackson's hangsaman. he does, though, call out (less of a call and more of something about a decibel louder than a mumble), "we're, uh... there's a two-for-one deal on gauze and band-aids right now." and the only reason he says anything at all is because it's allegedly his job to upsell. today's bogo deal seems a little too on the nose, though, considering the town's latest events, but griffin didn't come up with the sale. he just rings it up. he makes a quick, barely legible note in the margin with his fading black pen and flips the page, hoping whoever just came in doesn't need to know where anything is. or worse, want to exchange small talk with him.

embarassing to want things like love and attention

"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  .  ”

"what? it's even illegal to walk down the street these days?" her words come out in a deadpan as she stops in her tracks, a safe enough distance away to not scare the other even further. she's joking, mostly, but the tone doesn't leave her voice when she continues, "i'll start wearing a bell like a cat or somethin'." her own cat doesn't have a collar much less a bell – ritten is a citizen of the world, not fawn's house. her gaze flicks to the price house then and fawn hums, glove-free hands sliding into her warm coat pockets, "yeah, everyone's on edge. or on the edge. or both." she mutters, looking away from the house and back at maeve. growing up in town, she's accustomed to things suddenly becoming haunted. haunted by memory more than real ghosts. she was young twenty-five years ago, but she has pieces of memories of how things were before and after. her life was miserable before and after, so, really, she supposes it doesn't make that much of a difference. and yet, fawn, not a believer in anything, still finds herself avoiding the places that feel haunted. it's just what this town does to you. or maybe it's just what misery does to you. "it's only a matter of time before kids are breakin' in to try and see bloodstains or something." she shakes her head as if to shake that image away altogether. though, if she were younger, she may have been one of those kids, "but c'est la vie in red creek, i guess." fawn hums, a tight, mirthless smile slipping onto her lips.

🗝️ open starter for anyone. 📍 norwood street, just outside of maeve's front door.

✦ ⋰ norwood street feels particularly haunted now. it's a feeling that maeve can't escape – the moment she steps out of her front door, she's there. it's there. she often finds herself looking at the front door of alaina's home like a deer caught in headlights. so close, but impossibly far on the one night that it mattered. maeve nivans has finally met with a problem she couldn't fix ; alaina price was murdered- gone from red creek forever- possibly joined the uncomfortably long list of people that you just didn't talk about. she wonders if alaina's home will be notated as the price house in red creek history ; reduced to a horrific event & molded into a haunted house to prod at in the same way the thorne house was. her heart seizes at the thought. as she peers at alaina's front door, it almost feels like someone looks back — she nearly jumps out of her skin when she hears the footsteps. hand pressed to her heart, she nearly squeaks. ❝ oh my god. a warning would be nice. ❞ the anxiety is a new hurdle, too. an unwelcome guest that moved in with the ghosts on october 31st. she breathes out through her nose before offering a warmer expression– ❝ sorry, sorry. i'm just— on edge recently. you understand. ❞

Spike Fearn Alien: Romulus World Premiere at the TCL Chinese Theatre in Hollywood, California (August 12, 2024)

he looked up, eyes landing on none other than foster. naturally anxious already, he could feel his anxiety ratchet up a notch, his mouth suddenly feeling drier, pulse racing. griffin looked at him with slightly wide eyes, shrugging, "i don't study, um, marketing." he didn't know what possessed him to try a business school joke, but it was too late to backtrack, so he just plowed on. he much preferred to talk about his book anyway, "relate? um.. not particularly," though, the loneliness... sometimes, "i just think shirley jackson is so masterful at building suspense, in... in storytelling, really. anyway... yeah, i could write a thesis on her." he ducked his head a bit sheepishly, not used to being put on the spot — and by put on the spot, he meant literally just being asked a question by someone outside of his family and close friends. if he were braver even a little bit, he would ask foster if jackson's work had ever influenced his, but then that would make it known that griffin had seen pretty much everything the other had made and that would be very embarrassing probably. griffin nodded then, humming, "i, um... stuff related to tech is over in aisle six. i can't promise there's polaroid film, but i know there's disposable cameras and that sort of stuff so... there's a chance?" he told him, "would hate to see you flee town, but i can't make any promises." in griffin's own head, it sounded like he was practically begging foster to not leave town. though, that didn't stop him from the follow-up question that required incredible bravery on his part, "what do you need it for?" maybe he'd even get the scoop on what foster was working on now, which was an exciting enough prospect to keep him from avoiding eye contact completely.

ꜜ   ﹙   📹    ﹚   ﹕    INTRODUCING   A   BEGRUDGING   GARGOYLE   HUNCHED   OVER   A   BOOK   !   couldn't   even   be   bothered   to   look   up   when   the   bell   above   the   door   clanged   its   weary   tune,   foster   entering   the   pharmacy   and   stamping   snow   off   his   boots   onto   the   welcome   mat.   and   he   couldn't   help   but   snort   at   halfhearted   sales   pitch   tossed   his   way,   funny   how   griffin's   father   probably   had   the   charm   to   sell   used   condoms   at   the   motel   while   the   kid   couldn't   even   look   a   customer   in   the   eyes.      ❛     you're   really   selling   it   there,   champ.     ❜     foster   laughed,   more   tease   than   bite,   as   he   stepped   closer   to   the   counter,   boots   squeaking   faintly   on   the   worn   tiles.   and   he   planted   his   palms   on   the   counter,   leaning   just   enough   to   catch   sight   of   the   book   that   must   be   so   engrossing.   a   flicker   of   recognition   crossed   his   features,   eyebrows   lifting   lightly   as   he   drew   his   gaze   toward   the   younger   man.      ❛    hangsaman,   huh   ?   you   relate   to   it   ?     ❜    he   asked,   nodding   toward   the   book,   his   voice   dipping   lower,   gentler—   not   quite   mocking   now   but   probing,   his   curiosity   piqued.      ❛    the   loneliness   ?   the   descent   to   ...   madness   ?     ❜ but   foster   was   just   half-joking   with   the   inquiry,   a   small   chuckle   slipping   past   his   lips   as   he   fished   his   wallet   out   of   his   back   pocket.      ❛     i'm   just   here   for   some   polaroid   films,   by   the   way.   please   tell   me   you've   got   some,   or   i   swear   i'm   driving   straight   outta   this   town   and   never   coming   back.   well,   no.   but   i'm   definitely   not   gonna   be   happy   about   it.     ❜

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