Chappcdlips - ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ꜱɪᴅᴇ

Spike Fearn | via Wonderland Magazine

"fuck." cyrus hissed, most of his coffee hitting the floor, about a quarter of it soaking his tan pants. now he had to get another coffee and change his damn pants. perfect. he let out a breath, eyes meeting robbie's, "nah, it mostly got the floor." but now he was thankful that he always kept a spare pair of neutral pants in his classroom. he reached over to a nearby booth and grabbed some napkins, patting his pant leg with them and pasting a smile on his face, composing himself, "listen, man, accidents happen. might charge you for my dry cleaning, though." he teased. his eyes flicked over robbie, "did any get on you?" he held out a mostly clean napkin to the other just in case, "must've been a rough night, huh, doc?"

who: open to all! (capping at 5!) where: dolly's diner when: 5.43am

it was too early when he made his way into dolly's diner, after a long, boring shift at the hospital. it was like waiting for the other shoe to drop every night; at some point, something or somebody would make their way into his ER, and shit would hit the fan. it was just a question of when. still, this morning was not for serial killer theories but for coffee, and robbie let out a sigh when the sweet aroma of coffee hit his senses.

this morning already seemed like a mess, as when he stepped into the diner, he walked directly into someone else, spilling hot beverage between them both. "shit, sorry! are you alright? did you burn yourself?"

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.

10 Things I Hate About You (1999) dir. Gil Junger

cyrus ends up at the church due to his need to be involved, to be seen, and he knows that when tragedy strikes? there will always be people that take solace in the lord. and there are always people more willing to talk after a tragedy and cyrus is always willing to endear himself to new people for his own sake, for his own reputation. even in tragedy, perseverance is important, he thinks. he looks over at santi as he speaks, a sigh leaving his lips, "some people cane be your neighbor and still be a stranger. i'm sure she didn't hold it against you." or maybe she did. cyrus certainly didn't know kirby. "and i bet you never forgot after she told you, right? so i think you're settled up."

🗝️ open to all. 📍 redemption chapel, jan 24th.

the news breaks, as does half of red creek alongside it. there's an unfair lump lodged in santiago's throat. he wasn't close to kirby ; her death was not his to mourn, and yet ... he sits in the back pew of redemption chapel, hands wound in his hair. it was between here & the cemetery— the weather chose for him. he breathes in, has a hard time breathing out. halloween night plays through his mind. ❝ i asked about her name. ❞ he wants to laugh at the memory, but doesn't have the heart. a puff of frustration leaves him instead, ❝ grow up in a box like red creek & i still had to ask for her name. jesus– ❞

POSSESSION (1981) dir. Andrzej Żuławski

"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. ❞

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.  ”

there was something about fresh grief that was numbing, a sort of autopilot that griffin's body just immediately clicked into. he remembered when his uncle died, he was young but he could remember how heavy it felt, like a set of football shoulder pads that he couldn't just shrug off like he had when he was five and tried peewee football for all of six minutes. this felt different. he hadn't been particularly close to his cousin, but still, it felt awful, he felt sick to his stomach. since hearing the news, his body felt like it was in a permanent dry heave while his head was empty, too overwhelmed to form a single thought. but he had to get out of the house, which led to wandering, which led to here standing in front of collette with a vacant expression on his face. he cleared his throat, shrugging, "i don't really know what i said either. not important. probably just, like, hey, what's up?" griffin shrugged, taking his gloves off and shoving them in his coat pockets, "got anything interesting for sale today?" not that he was planning on buying anything, but he could use the distraction.

LOCATION : red creek fish market. TIME OF DAY : mid - morning, just a bit before noon. STATUS : open starter, accepting replies.

the  cognitive  limbo  felt  more  physical  than  usual  —  a  headiness,  floaty  &  almost  dreamlike,  forcing  collette's  attention  in  multiple  directions  as  on  one  hand,  the  influx  of  news  that  came  from  a  radio  behind  the  counter  -  though  interrupted  with  pulsing  static,  still  loud  enough  for  them  to  hear  all  the  unsightly  details  of  this  morning's  findings,  versus  the  smile,  unsubstantial  but  still  there,  etched  onto  their  face  with  a  serrated  blade. it  was  nothing  out  of  sorts,  coming  from  towns  whose  fibre  was  woven  with  tragedy,  yet  each  news  alert  doesn't  get  more  palatable  with  time.  this  was  an  ache  one  couldn't  easily  soothe  over  with  a  few  licks  to  the  wound,  and  it  stunted  collette,  one  whose  gaze  bounced  between  others  whose  mouths  equally  as  upturned  as  their  own,  though  she  could  almost  see  the  scars  of  theirs,  too.  sic  vita  est,  life  goes  on,  but  this  ear  worm  remained  persistent.  they  hated  it,  the  insistence  to  just  keep  going,  life  as  usual  when  someone  no  longer  has  that  opportunity.  but  through  the  fog,  a  voice  boomed,  syllables  growing  clearer,  a  “  huh,  sorry,  ”  spoken  under  the  vendor's  breath.  “  can  you  —  can  you  say  that  again  ?  sorry.  i  didn't  hear  you  correctly,  i  don't  think  …  ”