#↷ kieran talbot ﹙ threads ﹚

[horrorphase]

ꜜ ﹙ ⚰️  ﹚ ﹕ this was certainly a brand new low for red creek, the register's newest print turning the publication from a respected news source into some smalltown tabloid. and yet, despite the lack of any journalistic integrity or actual investigative content, kieran couldn't just ignore its subject ﹕ bronte dubois, someone he had never really trusted, photographed having an argument with daniela estrada. thoughts were nearly consumed by all the theories running amok in his head, gaze transfixed on the newspaper on the counter, until the bell above the pharmacy's entrance chimed as another customer left. “ sorry. ” he muttered, stare moving from the image to the pharmacist, unsure how long he had been standing there just lost in his thoughts. “ here to pick up my prescription. talbot, kieran nathan. ” but he just couldn't stop thinking, couldn't stand the knots twisting in his stomach, feeling like he might just suffocate and drown if he left his thought be unspoken, unheard⸻ easier to see things in different perspectives once they had rolled off your tongue. “ bronte fits the bill, doesn't she ? ” said nonchalantly, gaze returning to the headline and the photograph underneath. “ nurses like her— they're exactly the type. angel of death, they call it. thirty percent of all female killers work in healthcare, did you know that ? ” and it wasn't lost on him that ruby could also fit the role, but there had always been something a little more off-putting about bronte ﹕ but that might have something to do with actually growing up together, being in the same classes, being able to observe her throughout all the years. “ and bronte … she's too perfect, y'know ? but it's the kind of perfect that doesn't hold up under a magnifying glass. it's like looking at a painting from far away— it's all clean lines and soft colors until you get close and see that the strokes are all damn uneven, the colors smeared. nothing really makes sense when you think about it. always social, always knows the right thing to say. but who is she, really ? ” kieran never really knew. and he was really just thinking out loud at this point, blinking as the haze of his thoughts cleared just enough to remind him of where he was. and now that he had said all that he was thinking, kieran also came to a realization ﹕ this felt easy. a little too easy. “ in cases of missing adult women, the perpetrator is also often someone they know. ” pretty obvious that bronte and daniela knew each other enough to be caught in what looked like a heated argument. still, “ but who doesn't know each other in red creek anyway ? ” @den1als

[enternights]

𝖫𝖮𝖢𝖠𝖳𝖨𝖮𝖭　:　alaina price's backyard, 5pm 𝖲𝖳𝖠𝖳𝖴𝖲　:　closed for kieran talbot @gorebound

alaina  price's  death  had  marked  a  violent  shift  in  the  town's  collective  disposition.  everyone  was  on  edge,  trust  became  a  luxury  that  some  wouldn't  even  grant  their  own  kin,  and  the  streets  at  night  were  virtually  desolate  for  fear  of  becoming  the  boogeyman's  next  victim.  angela,  of  course,  saw  this  as  an  investigative  opportunity.  she  had  no  theories�� (  yet,  )  but  she  had  a  strong  feeling  that  this  unfortunate  crime  could  be  tied  to  daniela's  disappearance.  she  peers  through  the  sliding  door  into  alaina's  home,  the  setting  sun  casting  a  golden  hue  against  its  pristine  interior.  the  forensic  cleaners  certainly  made  sure  that  no  spot  was  left  begrimed;  if  she  didn't  know  any  better,  she  wouldn't  believed  that  such  tragedy  ocurred  inside  of  it.  she  wonders  if —  in  twenty  five  years  time —  this,  too,  would  be  buried in history.  “  how  much  trouble  d'ya  think  we'd  get  in  for  breaking  into  an  active  crime  scene?  ”

[horrorphase]

…                      an immediate drag was taken as soon as his cigarette caught flame, smoke permeating in his lungs and into his bloodstream to lull the disquiet underneath his skin. “ no need to thank me, but am not revealin' any of my secrets unless it's off the record, miss floyd ... ” smoke haphazardly puffed out in a dry laugh, simple smalltown politics 101. the things he did in the dark, in secret, made him enough of a liability to his family if they ever come to light. and divulging his own suspect list would just be another nail in the coffin ⸻ reflecting on his last name, alienating whoever he'd name if effie published his theories, jeopardizing his father's reach and influence in a town where reputation was everything. but maybe they could have an agreement one day, a mutual confidentiality, because he was only just a man at the end of the day : he'd spare the minutes, even the hours, to hear what kind of dark, tangled theories a pretty woman like her kept buried in that mind of hers. kieran fell into step beside her as soon as she began walking, believed that she could probably handle herself in the face of anything, but it was like he had anything better to do anyway. he already knew sleep would elude him tonight, so might as well get his steps in. “ i'm probably headed for the bar later. make sure my sisters aren't gettin' into too much trouble. ” a shrug, taking another drag to let the warmth of chemicals line up in lungs, the only foolproof defense he had against the biting cold of october breeze. “ but i guess you could say i'm snooping. ” a fleeting smirk as he glanced at her ⸻ damon might have distracted him from his agenda, but kieran couldn't let this night be entirely fruitless. “ just thought i'd take a stroll, y'know ? see what's lurking around the corner. you never know when and where you catch a glimpse of the killer unmasking. ” he canted his head then, his gaze sliding over to meet hers fully, lingering a second too long. “ ... or what other dangers you might find. ” a subtle smile played on his lips, dragging his gaze back to the sidewalk. “ but i'm sure your mind's already racing with the next big headline, miss floyd. any guesses on who our latest victim is ? ”

the direct and casual tone catches her off guard. even has her voicing it atypically : " oh. " it's amusing, really. the nonchalance. the ability to voice opinion, one based in earnest or not, without batting an eye. a stray thought comes to mind: kieran should make a podcast or try putting his opinions to paper. might be a damn hit. " should i thank be thanking you for that? i mean, really, this isn't some sort of indie horror flick. but, hell, you're making me curious who you are suspicious of. that's just the writer in me though. " effie's earnest at least, but she is wondering what's on his mind, who. it might even be useful to jot down— consider it for herself. yet, out of good manners, she doesn't press.

eyes flicker down to the unlit cigarette leaning close. the unspoken request met with her own lean. cigarette between her lips she lights it with the butt of her own. obverses him over it quietly. a creature of habit she is. ends it with a long drag and a collection of her bag while she stands. " thank you. i'm not really ... scared, but i don't think i want to cram myself into the bar like everyone else is. that'd really be what wigs me out. not enough room to breathe. " she adjusts her purse against her shoulder, slowly walking in the direction her apartment rests. eyes cast upwards a considerable distance. effie's never felt small before, but it's hard to ignore just how looming kieran was. that's a frame she'd never want to see in a dark hallway — a horror flick — only his shadow visible. " i have to ask though ... were you headed home or trying to snoop? no judgement. i'm no better sometimes. "

[horrorphase]

…                      he already knew the answer, already knew that taylan might be capable of terrible violence, but he wasn't a killer. or at least that was the wish of someone who yearned to clear the dust off old photographs, nostalgic for a time when they were still young together, never quite innocent but still boyishly unaware of the slow decay of their flesh and bones. but a lot could have changed with taylan in the last seven years, couldn't ignore that the slaughter had only now began with his return, couldn't ignore that he was wearing the mask donned by who he believed to be the killer ⸻ and there was no room for the ache of childhood memories when blood had been spilled, only objectivity. he needed to know. he needed to know. he needed to know. but kieran still cared for taylan enough to go straight to the source of his worries. the desire for truth led him to worse places and worse choice before, but someone was dead and it was already well past curfew by the time he was hoisting himself up over the window sill, the edge biting into the curve of his palms, leaving shallow dents that should fade by sunrise. kieran moved with urgency, before some cop on patrol could notice him, wedging him in : uncomfortably contorting his long and wiry body, one leg first, then the rest, until his grip faltered and gravity took its chance. the room's darkness and the streetlight outside blurred as he tumbled forward, landing in a graceless heap on the hardwood floor, the thud echoing sharply. and for a split second, kieran just laid there, dazed and breathless, staring at the ceiling as if it had wronged him. but he was already pushing himself up on one elbow, muttering a string of curses ( and a prayer that the noise wouldn't wake selin ) under his breath, when his vision finally adjusted and caught sight of taylan, a smile tugging on his lips ⸻ sweet and verging on a laugh because, of course, taylan would still be awake. kieran could barely remember a time when he had fallen asleep before midnight. but this wasn't a time for reminiscing, quickly reminded by why he was here in the first place. and kieran was nothing if not honest. “ i saw the boogeyman tonight. wearing the same mask as you. chased after him for blocks and blocks. and he wouldn't have done that if he was just some guy wearing a costume .... ” said as he pushed himself to his feet, brushing off the dust from his jeans with a feigned casualness that felt hollow. he shifted his weight and leaned back against the wall, the cool plaster biting through his thin shirt, grounding him in this surreal moment. “ was it you ? ” gaze cast on taylan, it'snothimit'snothimit'snothim, but kieran just needed to hear it from him for his own peace of mind. “ i don't think you're a killer. so, tell me you're not. ” @ofvolatile

[redcreekfm]

𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄  𝐓𝐎  𝐑𝐄𝐃  𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐊  lupin & ily  !  thank  you  so  much  for  applying  ,  we  are  so  excited  to  have  you  here  !  please  make  sure  to  follow  the  check  list   —  and  try  not  to  get  killed  .

//   (  jacob elordi  .  cis man  .  he/him  )  .    ⸻  kieran talbot  ,  a  twenty-five  year  old  ,  has  survived  another  day  in  red  creek  where  they  have  lived  for  his entire life  .  the  oracle  is  known  for  being  analytical  and  withdrawn  and  is  often  associated  with  cold cases pulling at your mind like an itch you can't scratch, fingers tapping on keyboard like a séance, summoning the lost stories of old files and forgotten names ; living in the quiet spaces, between the questions no one dares to ask, every lead pulling you deeper, into places most people would rather forget ; it's not obsession, it's duty— the dead talk to you, each piece of evidence a thread, weaving a narrative that transcends the silence of death  ;  people  are  puzzles  to  be  solved,  actions  coded  in  patterns  and  neuroses  that  needs  to  be deciphered.  in  a  small  town  where  they  work  as  a mortuary assistant and freelance cybersecurity analyst  word  travels  fast  .  it’s  hard  to  keep  a  secret  ,  and  it  looks  like  the  boogeyman  knows  that  redacted.   (  lupin  ,  twenty1+  ,  cst  , he/they  ,  cst  )  . ** oldest talbot kid wc **

// ( drew starkey . cis male . he / him ) . ⸻ connor grady , a twenty - eight year old ,has  survived  another  day  in  red  creek  where  they  have  lived  for eight months . the dynamo is known for being magnetic and deceitful and is often associated with worn cleats ; once vibrant and packed with energy , now sit silently discarded in a dark corner , caked with layers of dust and memories . laces frayed at the edges , and soles cracked from disuse , each crease and scuff a reminder of grass - stained battles fought and roaring victories claimed fading into the past . faded symbol of hope and resilience in the form of a coin ; clutched in nervous hands and polished by restless fingers in moments of self - doubt and introspection , carrying a life time's worth of struggle and triumph on it's surface , it's comforting presence always nestled in a back pocket whispering promises of perseverance when all seems lost . scattered scars etched into delicate skin ; telling tales of adrenaline fuelled highs and painful aftermath lows . silver and faded , a testament to healing and the passage of time , a map to a journey endured and moments of glory overshadowed by the price paid , with every yard gained and every tackle taken . in a small town where they work as the owner of redstone bar and occasional espn pundit word travels fast . it’s  hard  to  keep  a  secret  ,  and  it  looks  like  the  boogeyman  knows  that  redacted . ( ily , 30 , gmt + 3 , she / her , none ) . ** savannah grady's older brother wc **

[horrorphase]

…                      it had been a long damn day, a police interview and a shift in the morgue, tiresome and headache-inducing in a way that could only be soothed by breaking into your father's liquor cabinet while he was busy pacifying a town wailing with questions. “ you know, if i wasn't his son, and i didn't know better, i'd probably suspect dad. ” said nonchalantly as he handed a cold glass of some vintage rum to avery, the still-bruised eye was enough proof that she probably needed this just as much as him. “ he fits the bill of most midwestern serial killers. he was in his 20s when the first killings happened, which is the usual age most serial killers start their murders. appears normal and non-threatening to the community. i mean, even gacy was involved in local politics. and he's obviously great at keeping secrets, so if someone gets a whiff of that, even if it's just that mom and him are going through it .... it wouldn't be good. ” the list could go on, but kieran just shrugged before taking a sip of his drink, wincing as soon as it hit his tongue, and he could only hope that it'd be worth it by dulling his unease. and of course, kieran didn't actually think his father was capable of such transgressions, but he wasn't the only one searching for the boogeyman in this town ⸻ and sooner or later, the blame game would begin, fingers pointed in every direction. and a wrong assumption could easily ruin someone's life in this town. “ guess your job is making sure nobody actually thinks that. you know it's all about eating the rich these days, rightfully so, and we're kind of prime grade beef in this town. ” @ichorstained

[horrorphase]

…                      he had been here a thousand times before, a place for solace and rumination, for youthful rendezvous and misdeeds. here, he smoked his first cigarette with taylan and thought of himself as some kind of anarchist for tarring his lungs. here, he tried to speak with the ghost of jacob thorne, trying to understand him with every mark of growth on the door frame, every old photo abandoned, and every tall tale unburied. it was a place filled with ghosts, though nothing could harm him here. but with alaina price disemboweled, her organs bagged and sewn back in, thorne house now felt like an ancient beast disturbed ⸻ spreading its teeth and devouring him, gnawing on his autonomous nervous system until all his synapses could relay would be pastpresentpastpresent. it must all be connected somehow, and kieran couldn't think of another place the boogeyman could have gone after slipping away from his sight. so he searched and searched and searched for some trace, the beam of his flashlight cutting through the dust-cloaked darkness of sybil thorne's room. the house felt more alive than ever, but kieran did not flinch when he heard the creaking floorboards the first time, only natural for old houses like this to breathe every now and then. but then he heard it again, closer this time, his body tensing as he was reminded that the ghost he chased was more flesh than memory. and at the indication of the third time, the beginning of a drawn-out groan of wood shifting under pressure behind him, kieran immediately pivoted ⸻ flashlight slicing through the darkness, illuminating another trespasser. he expected a knife, he expected a mask, but the absence did not necessarily mean innocence either. “ huh ... ” he began, heart slowing into a more deliberate rhythm, probably should known that he wouldn't be the only trying to find answers here. “ i didn't expect the boogeyman to be just some journalist trying to create her own headlines. ” he deadpanned, a half-joke, a half-accusation, head canted to watch kennedy with wary fascination. @brntout

[horrorphase]

ꜜ ﹙ ⚰️  ﹚ ﹕ he'd been here enough times to consider himself a goddamn expert in the dewey decimal system⸻ but no amount of skill really mattered when faced with such messy variables of human error. everything here was supposed to be in neat order ﹕ in its place, every number meant to lead to a revelation, yet half the books he needed was nowhere in sight. blame it on the high schoolers, abandoning books anywhere and everywhere, attention always flickering elsewhere like restless moths ; or blame it on the old shelvers, perpetually behind, carts laden with titles that could have answered his questions yesterday, last week, thirteen years ago. and kieran usually wouldn't ask for help ﹕ but the clock was ticking, alaina's ghost hanging heavy over his thoughts, crying out for answers, for a name, for closure. kieran rounded the corner to the circulation desk, dropping all the books he had found with a loud thud, clearing his throat with a curt sound but not entirely impolite. “ i need help. ” he said, sliding a list towards darcy, the ink smudged now from too many foldings and unfoldings, a list of books that offered breadcrumbs in the labyrinth of understanding— of the boogeyman, of the 1999 murderer if they were not the same, of the dark geometry of the human mind that could drive someone to such depraved acts. “ i've got mindhunter, whoever fights monsters, i'll be gone in the dark, the jigsaw man, and the shrine of jeffrey dahmer. but can't seem to find zodiac, the alienist, my life with murderers, and the psychopath inside: a neuroscientist's personal journey into the dark side of the brain. and i know you have them, i've checked them out before. ” urgency punctuated his otherwise monotone words, probably said more here than he had the entire day, but kieran treated this with utmost importance ﹕ quite the melodramatic thought but people's lives depended on it.

[horrorphase]

tag dump !!

↷ kieran talbot ﹙ character study ﹚

↷ kieran talbot ﹙ countenance ﹚

↷ kieran talbot ﹙ threads ﹚

↷ kieran talbot ﹙ soundtrack ﹚

↷ kieran talbot ﹙ aesthetics ﹚

↷ kieran talbot ﹙ ask memes ﹚

[horrorphase]

ꜜ ﹙ ⚰️  ﹚ ﹕ it must really be the calm before the storm if santiago, of all people, lacked any canards from red creek's rumormongers, such an insidious but essential mechanism for checking the pulse of a town so small and suffocating like this. it was just intrusive noise to some people, but gossip had always been the lifeblood of every bumfuck nowhere ﹕ keeping people connected and aware, stitching itself together in shared glanced and half-truths. hell, it was how everyone got together to fuck jacob thorne over. without small town gossip, no one would know who was flourishing or floundering, where otherwise unseen tensions lied, or who would the town elect next to burn at the stake. a small shadow of a smile appeared on kieran's lips, slightly wary and pensive, realizing that not only they didn't know if the killer would strike again but they also couldn't tell yet who the town would blame for alaina's death. it shouldn't be, but like it or not, both of those things were equally damning in dead creek. “ kelly was probably already in the force in 1999 and you know how they treated the thornes. it's probably easier for him to think this killer is an entirely different person than admit he was wrong all those years ago. ” it wasn't exactly rocket science to predict the things people would do to protect their secrets and their pride ﹕ and sometimes survival must come before justice, looking away from truth to keep the gnashing teeth of guilt away. “ but i also wouldn't be surprised if our killer today wasn't really here twenty-five years ago. maybe, it's revenge for the thornes. or maybe, this is some kind of punishments for our sins. god knows we've got some christians here who'd rather purify the earth than take a good look at themselves. ”

⁑ ❝ there's, uh– a supposed list of people, i think. but it's all–... red creek people, y'know ? people that've been here forever. as if they'd just snap and go full slasher flick on us. you, june, tay, angela– like she doesn't have enough shit on her plate with all of this. ❞ with a steadying reminder from kieran, santi pauses to take a deep breath. his words have a way of preceding any rationality– another habit he'll one day learn to shake. but right now— there's that slim chance that someone he knows has snapped in some way. no way to wrap his mind around it except talking. ❝ if anything, people have been weirdly quiet, like– i got nothin'. ❞ a real rarity for santi, who usually knows the ins and outs of any given situation in red creek.

❝ dunno why they aren't lookin' at the people who were actually– sentient last time this happened. someone just decided to pick up the mask & see if it fit ? answered the calling of red creek's own cryptid ? like, come on. ❞

[horrorphase]

01. kieran talbot : intro. threads. character study. 02. seth altamirano : intro. threads. character study. 03. henrietta nivans : intro. threads. character study. 04. francis wymack : intro. threads. character study.

[horrorphase]

…                      he couldn't stop the way his lips curled into a half-smile, known june long enough to know their bark was just their own version of pleasantries ⸻ expected as soon as he entered their vicinity. and kieran had far better things to think about, easier to just let all the insults slide off him, as always. “ good seein' you too, june. love the whole compact tyler durden look. ” own cigarette pressed to his mouth as he rolled his eyes, letting the smoke settle in his lungs for a beat before it unfurled right back out ; a warm reassurance to soothe his agitation just a little. the cops found a body and rather than returning home for some semblance of safety, here he still was : searching for leads, trying to determine where every face he saw fell into. innocent or suspect ? and maybe it was futile, maybe the boogeyman only roamed in the dark, lurking in the places no one dared to look. but then his whole attention flicked in the same direction of june's gaze : immediately noticing the mask, too fresh in his memory after an encounter with it in the thorne house earlier in the night. and although it might not be the exact same one, it was unmistakably the face of red creek's cautionary tales and childhood night terrors : the boogeyman. cigarette dropped and crushed underneath his shoe, glancing sideways at june. “ you've got a weapon ? ” he asked under his breath, though it didn't really matter, already decided that he'd go after the masked figure the second he laid eyes on them. adrenaline stirred something in his gut, urging him forward, urging him to not let this chance go. “ on three. ” he added, voice low and urgent, looking at june to make an unspoken agreement to face whatever horror lied ahead together, side by side. he didn't even bother with a verbal countdown ... inhale, exhale, inhale ... running after the boogeyman, heart pounding in his chest.

FOR:   kieran ( @gorebound ) ( @redcreekfm ). DETAILS:   2am, just outside redstone bar.

"come  the  fuck  on  -  santi  you  fucking,  good  for  nothing  -"  a  string  of  swears  follows  june  wherever  she  goes;  and  tonight's  not  any  different,  hopping  onto  the  top  of  their  toes  just  to  peer  back  into  redstone.  friends,  her  ass  -  one  minute  she's  drinking  the  liquor  he  rightfully  bought,  the  next  she's  outside  with  a  freshly  lit  cigarette;  a  fucking  -  swarm  of  people  blocking  her  way  back  inside.  "-  this  is  such  bullshit!"  erupts  from  them  suddenly  as  they  turn  away  from  the  overcrowded  doorway;  inside  is  rowdier  -  she  can  hear  it,  feel  it.  chaos  she  has  no  part  in.  june  hates  it  -  just  as  much  as  she  hates  staring  up  at  kieran's  face.  fucking  -  unnecessarily  tall.  ridiculously  so.

"you  look  like  -  a  fucked  up  ant.  bug  eyes  and  all,"  it's  her  way  of  greeting;  an  insult  thrown  in  for  free  as  june  exhales  smoke,  elbows  sharp  into  the  ribs  of  whoever  surrounds  them  -  if  only  to  step  further  into  the  cool  night  air.  people  linger  all  around  them;  busy  in  their  own  conversations,  their  own  shared  cigarettes  and  snuck  -  out  bottles  of  beer.  she  should've  slipped  a  handle  into  her  jacket.  "should've  got  -  shin  shortening  surgery,  or  some  shit.  whatever  they  do  now."  her  neck  hurts  just  craning  to  look  up  at  him  -  only  pisses  her  off  further,  as  if  his  height  was  personally  meant  to  mock  her;  june  glances  away,  if  only  to  glare  at  nothing  down  the  street.  a  permanent  scowl.  "you  supposed  to  be  dressed  as  something,  or  were  you  always  a  fucking  -  sad,  emo  cowboy  -  who  the  fuck  is  that?"  there's  -  something  in  the  distance;  no,  someone  -  barely  visible  in  the  dark,  barely  noticeable  in  the  outside  chatter.

[horrorphase]

ꜜ ﹙ ⚰️  ﹚ ﹕ there was something here that always vaguely reminded him of home, perhaps the faint smell of detergent and burnt dust, or maybe it was the fact that time always felt slower in silver coin⸻ like it got stuck in the lint trap and couldn't quite move on. but no matter what it was, it helped him focus on his thoughts, on the smaller details of the murder board on his mind, as he waited for his laundry to finish. and there he was, sprawled across the mismatched plastic chairs, the angles of his lanky frame defying the furniture's attempts at geometry while a one-eyed cat was perched on his chest ﹕ its remaining eye half-closed, rumbling purr vibrating through kieran's ribs, as though the feline was better at finding peace than he could ever hope to be under the fluorescent bulb and its dull arrhythmic buzz. and balanced on his knee was a battered journal, spine barely clinging to life under layers of duct tape⸻ pen scratching faintly across the page, the numbers tumbling out of him with a compulsive rhythm, a cipher meant to be an extra layer of secrecy to keep his thoughts always only just for himself. 32 66 48 67 57 66 35 85 24 65 36 68 56 24 67 53 78 56 28 34 63 68 57 56 67 63 78 57 46 45 34 66 44 65 54 55 69 77 47 44 53 78 46 36 38 64 68 77 47 45 36 68 77 47 77 55 69. and on the edges, doodles of the one-eyed cat and two stick figures. but the scratching of pen on paper paused as soon as he heard jubilee's melodic plea cut through the low industrial hum of the laundromat, tilting his head toward them. and wordlessly, kieran sat up a little and dipped a hand into the pocket of his black threadbare hoodie ﹕ cat sliding off his chest and into his lap with an indignant yowl. “ here. ” he said, holding out a few quarters, a crumpled receipt, and a rogue peppermint, more than they had asked for. then almost instantly, kieran felt the urge of a conversation. to not let that be the end of a fleeting encounter. to pick at jubilee's brain. but kieran was never the best at talking ﹕ only knew how to fill the silence sideways and utterly devoid of finesse. and of course, he was going to bring up the disappearance, the murder, this web that was spun before anyone could notice. “ so, what's your take in all this ? ” he asked, tone flat but weighted. he didn't need to explain what this was⸻ not when there was so little he could possibly be talking about. daniela missing for two months now, alaina price gutted and the walls of her home painted with her blood, bronte's possible involvement with daniela's disappearance, and now greer's face plastered on every bulletin board from here to the interstate. “ doesn't really seem like a sunshine kind of time, does it ? ” he added, voice a little quieter, almost to himself, before looking out the storefront windows ﹕ the days were getting shorter now, darkness always encroaching sooner than they realized.

[  open  starter  ;  starring  ...  jubilee  jackson  ] [  setting  ;  silver coin laundromat  ]

it's  very  rare  for  jubilee  to  not  have  at  least  a  soft  smile  on  their  face.  their  name  is  literally  jubilee.  they're  a  walking  ray  of  sunshine  for  the  most  part.

at  the  moment,  she's  pissed.  her  brows  knit  together,  and  a  scowl  on  her  face  as  her  manicured  nails  pluck  out  the  silver  coins  in  her  light  washed  jeans  pocket.  arguably,  jubilee  hasn't  carried  cash,  let  alone  coins,  for  what  feels  like  years  at  this  point.  in  their  defense,  they  never  thought  the  washer  and  dryer  they  got  off  facebook  marketplace  three  years  ago  would  suddenly  die  on  them  and  they'd  be  forced  to  go  to  a  laundromat.

she  counts  the  coins  softly  to  herself,  taking  a  deep  breath  when  it  hits  her;  she's  a  single  quarter  short.  jubilee  scratches  the  back  of  her  neck  as  she  looks  down  at  the  basket  of  clothes  near  her  boots,  contemplating  washing  them  in  her  sink  just  for  a  moment  before  looking  up  and  around.

"hey  friend,"  jubilee  sings  at  the  other  patron  in  the  laundromat,  giving  them  a  charming  smile  and  raise  of  her  thick  brows.  "you  got  a  quarter  i  could  barrow?  i'll  pay  you  back  with  interest.  pinky  promise."

[horrorphase]

ꜜ ﹙ ⚰️  ﹚ ﹕ he hadn't really been here before, but the apartment, as it was now, felt like a foxhole, a sanctuary from the disorder of the world outside. sun-warmed wood, lovingly cluttered corners⸻ and he could just stay like this forever, watching the soft beams of morning light sprawled across the floor, such careless elegance that set every speck of dust adrift in gold. if only █████ was here, then he'd have everything he needed here. there was an echo of comfort here ﹕ it wasn't taylan's childhood bedroom, but there was still something grounding about the rough scrape of posters and the scattered remnants of his friend's life— hockey gear propped in corners, a stick resting against the wall, its tape frayed and peeling like a secret kept too long. kieran rubbed at his eyes, the fabric of taylan's shirt shifting over his shoulders, loose and comforting, such a rare thing for him to sleep as deeply as he did, for his mind to go still, for his body to just surrender into sheets. but he could just blame it on last night's exhaustion ﹕ muscles still carrying soreness from running after the boogeyman, a leftover hum of adrenaline.

but he couldn't stay like this forever, not when there was another body disemboweled, another murder to solve ﹕ that blissful moment of emptiness when you just woke up finally fading away and making room for reality. kieran pushed off from taylan's bed, the creak of the frame sounding like childhood memories of sneaking out, and stepped into the hallway, where the warmth spilling in from the kitchen greeted him. and he followed as selin's silhouette moved against the backdrop of the morning⸻ stopping just a short distance from her when he noticed the cat, bare feet grounding him to the space as he watched pasha let out some accusatory hisses and meows, tail twitching like a metronome of distrust. and before he could say anything, selin swiveled with a frying pan that could have probably knocked him out if only she actually acted on that impulse. instinct jolted through him, but he didn't move, lips pulling into a crooked smile. “ y'know, i used to remember you threatening people with words when tay's fists didn't work. guess you've advanced to kitchenware now ? ” the words rolled off his tongue dryly, but they were punctuated by the small, genuine laugh that escaped him, lifting his hands up in feigned surrender.

“ i have two younger sisters, sel. ' course i know how to make breakfast, ” an almost offended response, but kieran didn't hesitate to move towards the fridge, grabbing a carton of eggs, shaking it lightly. “ sit, ” he gestured with his chin, tone flat and unhurried, a command that was softened by the morning. “ i've got this. ” and it had been awhile since he had done this, breakfast often skipped, but today, here, kieran let himself sink into this ﹕ the clink of a bowl, the scrape of a spatula, the sizzle of oil, the scent of frying eggs. and maybe he was just trying to make her feel more comfortable before the next revelation⸻ “ hope you don't mind that i inspected the place last night when everyone was asleep. ” gaze flitted towards the cracked-open kitchen window, eyes mapping the frame. “ window's loose. one shove and you're in. ” a glance toward toward the front door then made him snort quietly, the sound more breath than laugh. “ that lock might as well be a decoration. deadbolt's a joke, could be picked with a hairpin. most of the frame had gone soft, too. could probably be forced open with some pressure. ” he stepped away from the stove for a few moments, pointing out the window at the far corner of the living room, its curtain drawn lazily to one side. “ that one's a bit trickier— sills a little more sturdy, but if you know how to jimmie the latch, it opens. probably takes a bit more finesse, but not impossible. ” and of course, there was taylan's window, but they didn't need to talk about that. kieran paused for a second, maybe two, or ten, trying to remember if there was any other entry points he was missing ﹕ but train of thought was then derailed by the scent of burnt eggs. “ SHIT. ”

FOR : kieran , june , & taylan ( @horrorphase @bittenmoths @ofvolatile ) . LOCATION : selin's apartment . TIME : early morning , november 1st .

she can tell it's early by the way the sun peaks through her curtains , the lacey shadow casting an intricate pattern across her hardwood floors in the way that always made selin itch to trace over it , to make it permanent with some paint and a brush . in the safety of her bedroom art supplies are scattered freely , tucked into corners and piled onto desks , adorning her bookshelves in the way they never used to within the walls of her childhood home . her apartment was her sanctuary , and her bedroom the most intimate room of all ; pieces of her heart were scattered everywhere , displayed in the pictures taped onto her walls and the boxes of old birthday cards and love notes by her bed , tethered to the clothes overfilling her closet and the trinkets she's filled a many jewelry box with . she's careful not to wake june as she slides out from under her comforter and into her slippers — and there's a piece of her heart there , too , locked tightly inside the sleeping mass selin's vigilant to note is alive and breathing , counting the gentle rise and falls of their chest before she's content enough to venture into the kitchen . pasha greets her with a headbutt to the legs and a disgruntled meow , so croaky and cranky from being denied his spot in her bed it draws a laugh out of her . " i'm sorry , baby , " she coos , to which he offers another meow , taking his place by his bowl . she fills it mindlessly , pats his furry head , still groggy with sleep and only just beginning to register the throbbing of her bruised eye , more swollen and tight than it had felt last night . she's tempted to crawl back into her bed , but there was no falling asleep again without pain killers , and there were no pain killers without breakfast . november had brought with it a chill that warranted pajamas warmer than the old high school class t-shirt and mismatching shorts she was wearing , but it wasn't the temperature outside seeping in from the only half decently insulated walls that has the hair on the back of her neck standing up , or goosebumps trailing down the length of her arms . it was the feeling that someone was behind her ; a feeling confirmed by the tabby cat who was no longer crunching on kibble , but hissing at a shadow too lanky too belong to her brother . her heart jumps into her throat , a million thoughts crossing her mind , but only two registering . is this what alaina felt ? and then is taylan okay ?

she doesn't spare another second thinking , leaping to action in a way she didn't know herself capable of until that very moment , shaking fingers clasping onto the handle of her frying pan before she whips around , unbrushed curls bouncing , what could have been a scream tearing from her throat before it dies off into a stunned silence . there was no boogeyman poised with a knife , ready to slash her organs from her body . no , her intruder wore a familiar face , and selin lowers her weapon just a fraction before hissing " — kieran ? " disbelief at the picture in front of her has her staring as she waits for it to register kieran talbot's standing , very much uninvited , very much unfazed , inside her apartment . and maybe that's why her suspicion refuses to back down entirely as she says " i don't remember letting you in . " with every second her heartbeat settles closer to normal comes clarity , sense returning with every blink of her dark lashes . the clothes he's wearing — she recognizes the shirt , and old tee's of her brother , which could only mean two things : either he'd spent the night in taylan's room , no doubt climbing through his window like june had , or he'd killed her brother then taken the shirt as some sort of sick prize . it wasn't even a question in her head , which reality made more sense . " i really need new fucking locks , don't i ? " she groans , more to herself than to kieran , frying pan returned to it's spot on the stove , relinquished from her panicked grasp from only minutes before . and then selin spins back around to face him , hands placed squarely on her hips as she fixes him with a look there was only one right answer to . " well do you know how to crack an egg , at least ? "

[horrorphase]

ꜜ ﹙ ⚰️  ﹚ ﹕ he might be living all by his lonesome somewhere else now, but this house was home, and it would always be until the day he died. all the christmas mornings, the moments of joy and laughter, every birthday party and childish fights with his siblings ﹕ they were memories housed here in this beautiful home ⸻ stitched into the fabric of who he was, holding him together in places where gloom had eaten away at him. yet, standing in the doorway of the guest room and staring at his mother, kieran felt the familiar warmth of home twist into something colder, something that corroded at the edges of comfort. “ i think home should have colors and flowers, ” kieran said flatly as he looked around the room's blank walls and the lack of decor, a room so empty and impersonal that he wouldn't think there was any sign of life here if he didn't know better. and the last thing he wanted was for his mother to feel like a ghost in her own residence. “ you could sleep in my room instead, y'know ? at least all my damon albarn and faith sandoval posters could keep you company there. that, or i could talk to dad. get you guys to switch rooms or something ... ” still, a soft sort of smile lifted the corners of his lips upward, just in case she needed the comfort. “ so halloween night, ” he started, running a hand through his hair as he braced himself for the looks of disapproval he knew would come, but kieran was nothing if not honest with his mother. “ broke into the cemetery. around midnight. with finch, ” the name carried a familiar note of trouble, one that had made its way into more than a few stories he'd told her over the years. the same guy who had broken into this very home just because he couldn't be bothered to use the front door. and probably to his mother's dismay, that wasn't even the worst of kieran's decisions that night. “ and after that, i came home here, but i couldn't just sleep, y'know ? taylan's back in town and i had to talk to him. so, i broke into taylan and selin's place during curfew. nothing major, i just ... idon'tknow ... couldn't wait i guess. ” a low chuckle spilled out, hoping that she'd find it more amusing than distressing ﹕ trouble just to be expected at this point, even despite such reticence, especially with the type of company he kept. “ how 'bout you ? did anything fun 'cept handing out candy ? ”

closed starter with: charlotte and kieran (@gorebound) setting: the talbot home, late afternoon

Aside from the ticking of the clock and Charlotte’s mindless humming, the house was quiet. She glanced around their little guest room as she folded her laundry, letting her mind wander. It was so sterile, the walls barren aside from a few decorations here and there- mostly gifts that she’d collected over the years, little trinkets she had no place for in the rest of the house. So plain, so lifeless, but she didn't dare show signs of her own occupancy in the room, on the off-chance an actual guest came to stay. Clothes sat in piles on the bed, and it started to occur to her how quickly she made it through the laundry these days, now that the only clothes in the basket were hers, but the thought was cut short by the sound of a turning lock. Every nerve in her body froze as the front door creaked open, but she was put at ease by her dog’s tail wagging as he ran to greet the intruder. “Kieran, is that you? I’m in the guest room if you want to say hello to your mother.” She recognized his footfalls as they came closer, a smile crossing her face as he appeared in the doorway. “What’s up, kiddo? Just here for a visit?” Almost imperceptibly, her eyes narrowed and her smile faltered. “Or are you here to tell me where you ran off to on Halloween?” 

[horrorphase]

ꜜ ﹙ ⚰️  ﹚ ﹕ it should come to no surprise that his youngest sister hounded him with questions, both of them harboring minds ripe with curiosity ⸻ often rabid in their search for answers, prowling the deepest recesses of their town, sinking their teeth into the foulest of leads. but at least she was redeemable ﹕ in the eyes of their father, in the eyes of the town their family was cursed to serve. and part of him envied her baby sister, how she could stomach all the idle porch talk and the agog stares of townsfolk whenever they saw a talbot, but he was ultimately just glad to absolve her of the same fate as him. he was the black sheep. the creep, the freak, the weirdo. and he'd happily serve himself up as their next jacob thorne if it meant saving anyone he cared about from the hungry eyes looking to gnaw on another's ruin to stave off their own guilt ﹕ let them carve him apart piece by piece, dress him up with blame, and sustain themselves with the meat of his sacrifice. how else would a town like this survive ? one of them might be a killer, but kieran knew that almost everyone here had other secrets that they'd like to keep buried than answer the hollow growls of their conscience. “ some deputy probably saw me running down the street in the middle of the night. they might have thought i was running from something. ” well, either that or they knew about him trespassing into thorne house yet again, or when he broke into the cemetery with finch, or maybe they saw him climbing into taylan's window past curfew. it was a certainly a long night. but while some details blurred and waned, kieran doubted that any of his crimes were as terrible as bloody murder. “ i think they're just grasping at straws. just like twenty-five years ago when they indulged that witch hunt against jacob thorne. ” kieran shrugged, doubting that the department possessed any kind of evidence to pin the crime on anyone yet. “ taylan might become a person of interest, but hopefully i took care of that before it could become a thing. ” hopefully being the operative word, unsure whether his statement would line up with all the others. still, words rolled off his tongue nonchalantly, didn't offer much more as he began checking out something on his phone. “ i've been running point on getting more information on the people who were actually alive during the 1999 murders, and while dad is more likely to be suspected ... ” a pause as he showed piper his phone, a nearly empty folder labeled [ charlotte talbot ] on screen. a low incredulous chuckle slipped past his lips, seemingly amused at himself for being entertaining the thought. he didn't think their mother could hurt a fly, but she could definitely be keeping a secret. “ obviously not the killer. but isn't it weird that we literally don't know anything about mom's life before she moved here ? ”

🔒 closed starter for kieran / / @gorebound ⏰ sometime after his questioning.

♤ ❝ did the cops really call you in for questioning ? ❞ no time for pleasantries or hellos, this has been grating at her since she heard the first murmur of it across town. gossip of the town has never fallen on deaf ears ; piper knows the way they whisper about anyone out of the norm — knows that her brother could find his way onto the town's suspect list just for the crime of being introverted & curious. as someone who has dug her way into the town's history ( even the unpleasant parts ) for the sake of looking after a place her future is tied up in, she dreadfully knows that her brother could find his way onto the town's suspect list just for the crime of being introverted & curious. it's enough to pull a frustrated reaction from her. ❝ i mean— did they have a reason ? where'd you stick your nose this time ? because if they're just– pointing fingers already– i swear to god. ❞