chappcdlips

[chappcdlips]

"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?"

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griffin tugged down the hood of his sweatshirt as he entered the kitchen — not necessary to be the more hermitic version of himself in kieran's presence — hands shoved in the pocket as he approached the counter. he wasn't sure what he expected when kieran told him to come downstairs, but the array of weapons spread out across the cold countertop weren't exactly what he had imagined. and he was sure his face said as much, eyes slightly widened and eyebrows shooting up his forehead, "this looks like a hunger games survival kit. who are you? haymitch?" he would be dead from the jump in that scenario. or maybe he'd hide like peeta. regardless, griffin wasn't sure of his skills with weaponry of any kind. "you're trying to cause me twenty-one more years of absolutely no dates, huh?" he gestured to the hello kitty taser, which looked about as threatening as a sleeping golden retriever despite its designated purpose. he looked up at kieran, "i'm gonna need a utility belt." then griffin paused, deciding to finally set the jokes aside and humor kieran as had been requested, a deep sigh pulled from his lips, "do you really think i'll be able to do anything useful with these things? not saying that they aren't useful, but i'm not the most..." he trailed off, glancing back down at the things his older brother had brought, "i feel like i'd just fuck myself up with the bear spray on accident or something like that, if y'know what i mean." he wasn't physically imposing like his brother and he wasn't exactly coordinated. he had thrown a punch maybe once in defense of angela when they were kids and he had missed and nearly fallen on his face which was mostly just incredibly embarrassing and not-at-all tough. but, all that aside, he understood what kieran was doing and why he was worried and he loved him for it. as a kid, griffin had practically hero worshipped kieran, thinking of him as a protector, as a person to emulate — everything an older brother is supposed to be. in some capacity, he still thought those things, but he knew, too, that now that they were older, kieran wasn't always around to be those things. griffin wasn't trailing behind him down the sidewalk like a shadow anymore. and even if he was, when if it came down to it, it seemed the boogeyman had no problem taking down those who seemed big and strong. griffin ran his fingers gingerly over the knuckle dusters, "it's only gonna get worse, huh? the murders and attacks? i mean, that was the pattern the first time, right?"

ꜜ ﹙ ⚰️  ﹚ ﹕ sometimes,  looking  at  his  brother  felt  like  looking  at  himself⸻    a  reflection  of  his  own  timid  set  of  shoulders,  the  way  anxiety  and  fear  clung  to  him  like  cigarette  smoke.  and  it  was  a  terrifying  thought,  that  griffin  could  be  carrying  all  the  same  emotions  he  did  when  he  was  at  that  age.  those  feelings  of  being  small  and  inconsequential,  so  insidious  with  how  it  could  compel  him  to  fold  himself  up  in  so  many  ways  as  to  not  take  too  much  space  and  draw  attention  in  such  a  big  terrible  world  that  devoured  people  like  them.  and  there  was  nothing  in  this  world  he  wouldn't  do,  not  a  sharp  knife  he  wouldn't  jump  in  front  of,  just  to  make  sure  his  brother  never  think,  even  for  a  second,  that  he  didn't  matter—  that  his  softness  wouldn't  be  enough  to  keep  him  whole.  but  kieran  also  knew  that  he  wouldn't  always  be  able  to  protect  griffin  ﹕  not  that  kid  who  used  to  follow  him  and  his  friends  around  anymore,  couldn't  just  put  his  hands  over  griffin's  eyes  whenever  something  abhorrent  happened,  like  taylan  beating  someone  up  or  finch  pissing  in  the  middle  of  street  like  a  bad  dog. though,  maybe  this  could  be  a  helpful⸻    objects  solemnly  laid  out  like  artifacts  on  display,  every  item  looking  incredibly  barbaric  on  top  of  their  father's  sleek  choice  for  a  countertop.  a  bear  spray,  bright  orange,  its  purpose  blaring  like  a  hazard  light  ;  the  hello  kitty  taser  he  got  on  sale  from  amazon,  as  though  violence  could  be  sanitized  by  design  ;  and  the  knuckle  dusters,  inherently  brutish,  something  primal  made  manifest.  and  kieran  stared  at  them  for  a  long  time,  as  he  wondered  if  his  brother  could  stomach  it  ...  how  protection,  if  it  came  down  to  it,  would  demand  more  than  tools.  it  called  for  instinct,  resolve,  the  kind  of  hard  calculus  that  turned  you  into  something  you  might  not  recognize.

then,  he  thought  about  the  memory  of  alaina  price,  not  just  the  soft  recollection  of  laughter  or  late  night  babysitting  when  they  were  kids,  but  the  raw  unflinching  truth  of  the  morgue.  he'd  been  there  when  thierry  gore  unzipped  the  bag  and  made  the  first  incision  in  that  sterile  and  cold  room.  he  was  the  one  who  weighed  and  cataloged  her  organs  like  they  belonged  to  a  stranger,  not  the  girl  who  taught  him  how  to  braid  piper's  hair  or  told  them  monsters  weren't  real.  and kieran  had  held  her  heart  in  his  gloved  hands,  felt  the  emptiness  in  it,  and  wondered  if  she  had  known—  really  known—  how  brutal  the  world  could  be.  how  wrong  she  was  about  the  monsters.  and  it  was  the  kind  of  knowledge  he  couldn't  risk  griffin  learning  the  same  way.  ❝  hey,  c'mere  for  a  second, ❞  kieran  beckoned  to  the  kitchen  once  griffin  finally  came  downstairs,  his  expression  quiet  but  deliberate,  hand  brushing  briefly  over  the  taser's  smooth  surface  before  retreating,  as  though  unwilling  to  impose  the  weight  of  his  fears  too  heavily  on  his  brother.  despite  how  raw  the  memory  of  seeing  alaina's  corpse  was,  the  lacerations  in  her  flesh,  the  way  memories  of  her  effortless  smile  had  been  replaced  with  seeing  her  lips  purple  and  slack.  ❝  just  humor  me,  alright  ?  i  want  you  to  carry  this  stuff,  please. ❞  no  sharpness  in  his  tone,  no  explicit  urgency—  only  the  quiet  unyielding  care  of  someone  who  had  seen  too  much  and  refused  to  let  it  happen  again.  ❝  it  gets  dark  so  early  now,  i  don't  want  you  walking  'round  without  anything  to  protect  yourself. ❞  @chappcdlips

[chappcdlips]

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?  ”

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//   (  aldis hodge .  cis man  .  he/him  )  .    ⸻  cyrus cromwell ,  a  thirty-eight  year  old  ,  has  survived  another  day  in  red  creek  where  they  have  lived  for  ten months (but grew up there) .  the  magnet  is  known  for  being  charismatic  and vain  and  is  often  associated  with  caffeine fueled days, loud laughter in quiet places, displeasure hidden behind a dazzling smile  .  in  a  small  town  where  they  work  as  a teacher at red creek k-12  word  travels  fast  .  it’s  hard  to  keep  a  secret  ,  and  it  looks  like  the  boogeyman  knows  that  redacted  . 

STATS

full name: cyrus carson cromwell   hometown: red creek, mi   sexuality: closeted bisexual  birthday: may 23   zodiac: gemini sun, sagittarius moon, sagittarius rising  height: 6’2”  languages spoken: english, arabic, mandarin, russian, spanish, conversational french and german marital status: married children: 2, zeke (8) and lily (6)  traits: charismatic, intelligent, driven, vain, manipulative, sycophantic

BACKGROUND

second oldest of the cromwell family, cyrus always knew he was expected to achieve great things

while he helped tori with their younger siblings sometimes, he spent a lot of time out of the house with his friends

he was popular at school and super involved in the red creek community, star of the high school basketball team, class vice president his senior year, valedictorian — his list of accolades is long

when he graduated, he immediately got tf out of red creek, attending stanford

he majored in political science and linguistics with a minor in international relations, eyes on a job with the UN eventually

when he graduated, he moved to europe and then continued to move around the world, working as a translator at various embassies and UN facilities

somewhere in there he met his wife (submitting as a wc... *eyes*) and they had two kids

but about a year ago REDACTED happened and cy shortly after moved his family back to red creek very abruptly

now he's working as a teacher at his alma mater, teaching government to high school seniors and probably is a language tutor on the side for anyone who wants to learn a language he knows; he claims he just wanted to "slow down" but... yeah, that's not really true... ANYWAY!

PERSONALITY AND FUN FACTS tw brief mention of internalized biphobia

kind of an egomaniac, thinks he is god's gift to this earth (and maybe he is idk)

he knows he's hot

very protective of his siblings and family and anyone he cares about

very charismatic, easily commands and keeps a room's attention and LOVES it

was absolutely a ladies man in high school and college, dated a lot before meeting his wife; recent conflict with his wife probably has him being a little flirty when he shouldn't //: men smh

is bisexual but insecure about it and very much tries not to let people know that as he's always kind of felt pressure to be the typical big, strong Man of the House, especially because his parents weren't around a lot he's always wanted to fit the picture perfect image he was "meant for" which only included heterosexuality in his mind

hates navy blue, refuses to wear anything in that color

has an insane workout routine and is in the process of constructing a guest house in his backyard just for a gym space (not very handy like That, so someone please come help him build it)

does not feel guilty about getting tf out of red creek as soon as he could, doesn't feel guilty about most things he does even if they're somewhat questionable????

fake as fuck, even if he hates you he will smile at you like (((:

the murders scared him as a kid since he was around 13 but now he kinda thinks the whole resurgence/boogeyman returning theory is bullshit; he was friends with one of heather's siblings and saw firsthand the kind of grief people were going through, so now he thinks people are bringing it back as a story to scare the young people in town

character inspo: mr. incredible (the incredibles), steve (the haunting of hill house), patrick bateman (american psycho), mouth (the goonies), fitz (scandal)

[chappcdlips]

ALEX CROSS 1.02 - Ride the White Horsey | dir. Nzingha Stewart

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ALEX CROSS

Cross - 1.01 The Hero Complex (2024)

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fawn's head whips around as kingsley speaks up and she snorts, "i never suspected you, trust me, but i would support you if you were." she tells him as they fall into step together, lengthening her stride slightly to keep pace with his longer legs. "you're right, though, it's definitely some annoying white guy. but the idea of a hot girl or NB is a nice thought, y'know as i support women and queer people's wrongs." she may draw the line at serial killing, but it really depends on how hot the perpetrator ends up being. plus, maybe they have a really good reason — you never know. fawn hums, inclining her head slightly in thought, "yeah, i hear you, but boogeyman kinda gives me scooby doo villain and that's a little less scary than just saying 'oh yeah, the brutal serial killer tormenting red creek.' it could be somethin' scarier like... the red creek ripper. that's more threatening, i think." not that fawn will admit any fear regarding the situation. she has enough going on in her life to worry about. "you'd make a really good shaggy if we were doin' real life scooby doo." fawn muses with a teasing grin on her face, "i don't think i fit the velma or daphne archetype unfortunately. plus, i'm sexier than both of them, no offense to hanna-barbera or whoever the fuck." the thought evokes the memory of mornings, siblings sat on the trailer floor watching reruns of old cartoons as she tried to make breakfast, but she shakes the remembrance away quickly, "ritten can be scooby, just a lot more temperamental."

○    NOW DELIVERING TO . . .    ⏤ @chappcdlips !

kingsley squints at the familiar figure walking on the other side of the street . that slumping of shoulders is par to his own , although kingsley leans back more as he walks ( like something out of ed , edd and eddy ) . people walk in very distinct ways , and kingsley has always enjoyed seeing the tiny mannerisms that make up a person . for fawn , she walks leaning forward , hair curtaining off everyone , quick steps that slow down every now and then as if she's remembering she's not in a race . his lips quirk up and he crosses the street easily , picking up his pace to try and catch up with fawn . even though he's tall , fawn is FAST . it takes him a few moments to realise that a grown man following a woman right now is probably not something that is very ASSURING . he clears his throat . " i'm not the boogeyman . i have a feeling that guy's white . 82% of american serial killers were white , so that's just statistics, you know ? " kingsley states as way of introduction . " then again , gender isn't real . i guess it could be a hot girl killing everyone . or some cute NB . " he shrugs , thoughts spinning in his mind . " also , should we even be calling him boogeyman ? isn't that SERIAL KILLER 101 ? don't call them by their name cause it gives them more power ? " kingsley has a lot of thoughts on the entirety of the situation , but he mainly keeps them to himself . well . to himself, and to fawn .

[chappcdlips]

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

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he looks up at the sound of her voice, grinning at angela, "mhm, then the week after that it's rope and boxcutters." he relaxes slightly. talking to angela isn't small talk and she's more than used to his antsy, neurotic presence. "hey!" griffin laughs then, shaking his head and grabbing for the book as she slams it down, "i'm not the most pretentious one." he'd argue that's probably his dad. "but it's a good book, i swear. you can borrow it when i'm finished if you want." though, then she'll have to put up with his barely legible shirley jackson fanboy notes in the margins. he tucks the book under the counter, glancing at his watch, "yeah, i get off in an hour. i'll grab some snacks before i leave too. that 30% employee discount... i'm practically the richest guy around." he gestures at the last aisle, "oh! most exciting thing to happen in awhile here actually," here as in the store, he wishes the rest of red creek would relax a little, "we got some of those sour patch kids that are just grape? i've never had them, but the just peach ones kind of rock, so the grape ones have to be pretty good too, right?"

“  𝘄𝗵𝗮𝘁'𝘀  𝗻𝗲𝘅𝘁,  𝗯𝗹𝗲𝗮𝗰𝗵  𝗮𝗻𝗱  𝗿𝗮𝗴𝘀?  ”   angela  jests,  having  come  from  the  other  counter  to  retrieve  her  new  prescription  bottle.  the  customer who'd just walked in  shoots  her  a  bewildered  stare  before  disappearing  into  the  aisles,  eliciting  a  snort  out  of  the  young  woman.  she  takes  the  book  out  of  griffin's  hands  and  flips  throught  the  pages, brows furrowed as she reads aloud a few passages.   “  sometimes,  with  a  vast  aching  heartbreak,  the  great,  badly  contained  intentions  of  creation,  the  poignant  searching  longings  of  adolescence  overwhelmed  her  —  ugh,  you  pretentious  little  bitch. all you talbots are the same,  ”  she  teases,  slamming  the  book  face  down  on  the  counter.   “  there's  a  silent  night,  deadly  night  marathon  at  polaris  today,  you  wanna  come  and  binge  'em  all  with  me  after  your  shift?  ”

[chappcdlips]

for? BRONTE ( @lifekisses ) where? dolly's

griffin slides into the booth across from her, a small grin lifting his lips as he settles into the sticky seat, "do you carry pepper spray?" he asks immediately. then, he backtracks, "i mean, hi, bronte. how are you?" he pauses then repeats, "so do you carry pepper spray?" he tries not to think about it very much, but with the wave of new crimes that have been hitting the town, he's a little worried about the people he cares about. and despite all the slightly convoluted history, bronte falls into that category. his days of being terrified of her are long over, though he would absolutely never want to be on her bad side, he knows better. "because, y'know... all the stuff that's been going on," griffin shrugs, "safety first and all that. not to bring the mood down or anything!" and now he's nervous he's being too paranoid and is going to freak her out. "anyway, i'm just saying, maybe mace is the best stocking stuffer this year."

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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.     ❜

[chappcdlips]

for? JUNE ( @bittenmoths ) where? outside white pine auto garage

"if i get my car serviced here, are you gonna cut the brakes?" fawn teases when she spots june. she's smoking a cigarette and leaning against the hood of her car — a red 2008 buick lacrosse that she bought off a guy on craigslist over in traverse city. and as much as she's tried to fix the problem herself, she is not that kind of lesbian. and as much as she's not overly confident in june's skills to fix her car, there are other employees and she assumes they were hired for a reason. she's never really bothered to ask. she doesn't know what june actually does there, really. fawn crushes her cigarette under her boot and stands up straight, eyes flicking over the other liao, "i took all the valuables out. can never be too careful." and, honestly, if fawn were in her shoes, she would immediately check the console and the glove compartment for something good. fawn knows that part of her runs in their genes. like blue eyes or the potential to have a widow's peak. there's some metaphor or joke about how the apple's rotten right to the core, but that's not really fawn's style.

[chappcdlips]

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

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everyone should thank me because as bad as i am, i am holding myself back from being much worse

[chappcdlips]

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.