A Lot Of Ghosts Seem To Loom Over The Talbot Family — Whether Dead Like Jacob Thorne And His Uncle

ALEX CROSS

Cross - 1.01 The Hero Complex (2024)

HA DO YEONG eating his salad (& her ass up with that response)

THE GLORY - EPISODE 11

ALDIS HODGE: Esquire Interview (2022)

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  .

cyrus barely registers that someone else is out there until he hears carlos' voice and when he does, he hardly flinches, eyes traveling over them in appraisal. in threat potential until he realizes that the other doesn't look altogether threatening. he's got maybe a hundred pounds on them he thinks, leaning against the side of building, arms crossing, "it's not me. and i'm gonna go out on a limb and assume it isn't you either, but looks can be deceiving." cyrus pulls out his phone and sends a quick text, the call he was about to make decidedly cancelld now that there's someone else present. he doesn't know carlos, but you can never be too careful who you say what around — especially in a town like red creek. "why are you standing back here alone if you're so afraid the killer's gonna get you anyway?" he asks with a chuckle, a teasing lilt to his voice, "that seems like a bad strategy."

𝗪𝗛𝗘𝗥𝗘.　behind redstone bar, 11:30pm 𝗪𝗜𝗧𝗛.　anyone

𝗿𝗲𝗱  𝗰𝗿𝗲𝗲𝗸  𝗶𝘀  𝗮  𝘀𝗶𝗻𝗸  𝗵𝗼𝗹𝗲.  no  matter  how  much  carlos  tells  himself  he  should  leave,  that  there  are  so  many  reasons  he  should  get  the  hell  out  and  return  to  life  as  he  knew  it  (  despite  the  potential  consequences  they  could  face  if  ever  ████████  )  they  stay.  carlos  stays,  trapped  between  its  tragic  grasp  and  forced  to  watch  its  horrific  history unfold.  under the impression of being alone, carlos  jumps  at  the  sudden  noise,  nearly  dropping  the  cigarette  held  between  their  fingers.   “  jesus,  f  —  dude!  you  can't  be  doing  that  anymore,  there's  like,  a  killer  out  and  shit!  ”  brief pause,  eyes  narrow  at  the  person  standing  before  him.  it  doesn't  help  that  his  response  to  all  this  is  misplaced  carelessness,  the  kind  that  could  make  you  the  first  kill  in  a  horror  flick  —  not  the  kid  who  trips on air,  but  the  one  who  stands  face  to  face  with  the  killer  and  laughs  in  disbelief.  “  unless  . . .  the  killer's  you.  is  it  you?  ”

She shuffled into the kitchen, running a hand through her messy hair as she took in the sight before her, "So glad it's you and not the goddamn Boogeyman." The timing of the joke is, admittedly, horrible, but she's never been subtle. "What time did you get here?" Shreya thought she might have heard something in the middle of the night, but she figured it was either her brother or her cat. If it was anything else? She was willing to face the consequences and die honorably. "Now, if I bought even a single piece of asparagus, I think the world might end. The Boogeyman, who is obviously surveilling me as one of the town's top journalists, could notice my change in pattern and suspect me of knowing something and BAM dead." She sat at the small table by the window, sighing dramatically, "And you wouldn't want that, right?"

Then, Shreya sobered slightly, resting her elbows on the table, "I'm surprised you don't have to work right now. Is it not all hands on deck?" She asked, already thinking about what she may have to write about the incident this coming week. "It's really fucking awful." And there's no way to get through it but to joke about her own mortality, obviously. "What's the sheriff saying? Anything?" She added, "This is all off the record, by the way, I'll save my scheming journalist bit for at least noon."

closed starter with: darshan and shreya (@chappcdlips) setting: shreya's home, 9am, the day after the incident

His eyes fluttered open, and a strangled gasp forced its way out of his painfully dry throat as he struggled to recognize his surroundings, but the panic settled as the comfort of familiarity took hold. It was Shreya’s couch, in Shreya’s living room, in Shreya’s home, where he’d let himself in at 3am after finding sleep impossible at his own home. Darshan wiped the trail of drool off his cheek, sitting up and stretching his aching back before wandering to her kitchen, opening the fridge- only to see a truly meager selection of food between the tupperware containers of his own leftovers. A stray carton of eggs saved the day, and he’d set off to make breakfast when he heard the shuffle of feet. “Hey, lazy bones. Did I wake you?” His voice was casual, but there was an unmistakable horror laced in every syllable. How could he shake the guilt? How could he cope with the relief he felt when he confirmed that the young girl found dead in town hall was not his family member? As if that made it better- that the loss was not his own. “You should really get some vegetables in your fridge, or something, you know. Even an apple, or a single piece of broccoli. Give your poor microwave a break, before it unionizes against you.” 

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

"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?”

"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  .  ”