Where Every Scroll is a New Adventure
Griffin - Blog Posts
Don’t worry, he’ll catch you when you fall.
A bunch of mythical creatures of the “houses” of my high school.
I’ve come to make an announcement… shadow the hedgehog’s a butch ass mother fucker I finally caved and made a fursona. With a heavy heart I admit that I am, in fact, somewhat of a furry. YIPPEE 🙌
My fursona’s name is Swan obvi. She’s a tortoiseshell cat-swan griffin! I chose griffin because I’ve always been obsessed with them. As a kid that’s all I would draw 😂
She’s super fun to draw in my opinion so definitely expect more drawings of her! 🫶
Bonus: goofy doodles I made of cats on my biology homework
HELLO IM BACK So my sister was watching Sofia the first and I…. just send help…..please… I love griffins so I just…. ok honestly I don’t know why I drew this…..
A griffin fusion between Moltres and Entei
A griffin fusion between Zapdos and Raikou
A griffin fusion between Articuno and Suicune
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.
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. ”
"Sorry... sorry, I didn't mean to freak you out." Griffin murmured, moving out of the doorway and into the room. He felt bad, terrible even, that he had accidentally stumbled upon his mom having a moment he was sure she didn't want him to witness. But he was glad, too, that she didn't have to be alone right now. "Mom..." He shook his head, "it's alright." It probably sounded stupid, since nothing really was 'alright,' but he wasn't completely sure what to do or say under these circumstances. "We'll get it cleaned up, Mom." He whispered, stepping forward and wrapping his arms around her for a hug, "It's gonna be fine, Dad won't see." Though, given the situation, he wasn't sure his dad would be worried about something so trivial in comparison to everything else. He let out a slightly shuddery breath as he hugged her, trying his best not to lose his composure. Griffin wasn't generally that composed, mostly a nervouse wreck, but he felt like he had to be now. He felt like he owed it to his family to be strong. His dad always seemed so strong, his mom too, maybe he just wanted to prove that he was a Talbot after all. Prove that he could handle the tough stuff and still keep his head up.
He pulled away after a moment, crouching down to deal with the clothes scattered across the floor, "Is there a... y'know, a system? A donate pile or anything?" He asked her, picking up a wrinkled blouse on the top of one of the piles. He figured Charlotte's meltdown wasn't just about the clothes, but he thought dealing with the mess was a good place to start.
closed starter with: charlotte and griffin (@chappcdlips) setting: "her" and nathan's bedroom, 6pm, the night before the funeral
Clothes were everywhere, piled haphazardly in no discernible pattern, and Charlotte sat in the middle of it like the eye of a hurricane. There was a wild, desperate look in her eyes as she picked through items, giving each a brief look before tossing it in one of her piles and moving on to the next. She’d been doing it for hours at this point, and was so lost in the process that she jumped when she saw Griffin in her peripheral vision. “Oh God, you scared me Griff!” She threw the shirt in her hand on top of a pile to her right, suddenly deeply self-conscious of the disaster zone she’d created, and a long line of explanation began to tumble haphazardly out of her mouth. “I needed a dress for tomorrow, and I didn’t have anything in the guest room closet, so I came up here to look for something, and I just kept finding all these old clothes that I never wear, and I started to think, why don’t I just donate all of these stupid things that are just collecting dust,” she rambled, her voice growing more strained as she spoke. “And now I’ve just created this huge mess in a room that’s not even mine anymore, and that’s not even mentioning the fact that I am apparently not capable of finding a single black dress that I can wear to your cousin’s funeral.” Charlotte choked on the last word, fighting the overwhelming urge to crumple in on herself. She mindlessly moved some clothes around, trying to keep her trembling hands busy, biting the inside of her cheek to maintain her faltering composure. “Can you help me get these clothes put away before your father gets home?” Her voice dripped with embarrassment. This mess was evidence of her unraveling- something Griffin shouldn’t have to see, and something Nathan couldn't see.
the pinch grabs his attention and he glances over, eyes meeting piper's for just a split second before she heads off. without words he knows and he follows. just like he has since he was a kid, followed behind his older siblings. anywhere. off a cliff if that's what piper told him was cool. "you okay?" griffin asks as they get outside, pulling at the sleeves of his too-short jacket. it's a dumb question because he knows nothing is okay and he felt that same way she did in there, the grief and sadness weighing on everyone, making it hard to even think straight. "some of the flowers in there are dying already. they should've caught that. the bereavement committee people or whatever."
🗝️ dedicated to griffin talbot / @chappcdlips . 📍 redemption chappell ( kirby's funeral service ) .
the one place that should feel safe merely laces piper's very bones with discomfort. the emotions of funeral attendees loom over their heads; a cloud of gloom that is almost palpable, a fog so heavy that it suffocates— she stands suddenly. there are surely only minutes to spare before a sermon begins & being here feels impossible. fingers pinch at the fabric of griffin's shirt, then withdraw like she's been scorched. it's irresponsible to pull him away from their family mourning, but it's also a silent plea— walk out with me. don't make me leave alone. she blinks down at him, then spins on her heel.
he has a bagged chocolate croissant clutched in his hand, making his way toward a back table when there's suddenly coffee all over his sweatshirt and a woman practically yelling. it takes him a moment to get his wits about him before he's locking eyes with his aunt. she looks a little different than her facebook pictures, it's almost like seeing a ghost. his eyes go wide and he opens and closes his mouth like a goldfish as he stares at her. "rebec — aunt rebecca." his voice is quieter (quieter than usual) and he shakes his head, "um, it's not that bad. i'm fine, really." he glances over his shoulder as if his dad's going to be there watching this interaction that almost feels forbidden then back at the woman in front of him. "are... are you in town for the... for the service?" he trips over his words a bit and shakes his head, "no, sorry. sorry, i'm really sorry. really sorry about kirby." how many times are you gonna say sorry? he mentally kicks himself, grabbing for some more napkins from a nearby table, uttering another 'sorry' as he apologizes to the pair sitting at that table.
"i think i have another sweatshirt in my backpack anyway. it's okay." griffin insists, thanking a barista as they come over with a rag for the floor and the table rebecca spilled the other one all over. he's avoiding eye contact with his aunt, trying to pretend like he can even focus a little bit on cleaning up the mess and not the mess that is the talbot family and their dynamics. it's just his luck, of course, to run into her at random in a situation like this. he guesses it's a least a little bit better than seeing her at the funeral for the first time. though, the whole town has felt a bit like a wake lately.
⸻ 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘶𝘴 ﹐ closed for @chappcdlips / griffin talbot.
⸻ 𝘭𝘰𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 ﹐ early rise bakery & cafe.
rebecca sat slouched in the corner of the cafe, oversized sunglasses hiding bloodshot eyes, nursing a lukewarm coffee that was doing very little to cut through the haze of a nasty hangover. the dull hum of chatter, clinking cups and that damn door that jingled every time someone walked through it was grating on her last nerve ; she thought it'd be better than sitting alone at the motel with just her misery, regret and a pounding headache to keep her company, but turns out she was wrong.
head spins as she stands up too quickly, not noticing the figure in her path until it was too late ; coffee drops to the floor, pooling around both of their feet. " what the f*** !? — ugh, watch where you're going, dude ! " totally her fault. she looks up, ready to take out her problems on the poor stranger, but instead her jaw drops at the sight of the young man staring back at her. the resemblance is uncanny — nathan's jawline, the talbot eyes ( though somewhat less scheming ). realization struck like a slap to the face, which is what she actually deserved. " griffin. " tone softens as guilt takes over from irritation, though a mix of horror and embarrassment was still present on her face. his name lingers in the air between them, the silence verging on awkward, before she snaps out of it. " oh, god, i'm sorry — here, let's get you cleaned up. " she reaches over a nearby table, aiming for the napkins but instead knocking over another cup of coffee, this time not her own. now would be a good time for the ground to swallow her whole.
a lot of ghosts seem to loom over the talbot family — whether dead like jacob thorne and his uncle or alive but dead to the family like rebecca. it's something griffin could feel since the moment he could conceptualize the family he came from. it's even heavier, now, with the loss of kirby, a thick layer of fog over the talbot family. when he sees his dad, griffin takes note that he looks different somehow. not the powerful, figuratively towering man he's known his whole life, there's an air of something he can't quite identify and it's a little bit terrifying. he locks eyes with nathan, chewing at his lower lip, "i... i don't really know." he admits, shoulders tense and brow furrowed, "i don't get it." he shakes his head and pauses a moment, shifting from foot to foot anxiously, "what happened, dad?" he asks, feeling like he's seven again and asking why the sky is blue or why gophers live in the ground or any other question he's asked nathan or charlotte. they're supposed to know all the answers, right? even now when griffin knows better, he still wants an answer even if it's not possible.
𝘄𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲. the talbot residence. 𝘄𝗵𝗲𝗻. 10am. 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵. griffin talbot. @chappcdlips
〔 🦂 〕 ... 𝗶𝘀 𝗶𝘁 𝗴𝗿𝗶𝗲𝗳 𝗼𝗿 𝗴𝘂𝗶𝗹𝘁 𝘄𝗲𝗶𝗴𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗵𝗲𝗮𝗿𝘁 𝗱𝗼𝘄𝗻 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲 𝗮𝗻 𝗮𝗻𝗰𝗵𝗼𝗿? despite his familial ties to kirby, she was more colleague than kin, the only string connecting them being his sister — her mother — with whom they both were too estranged with to ever consider a genuine bond together. the age old cliche, i should've done more, sits in the back of his head, but would he have really? or is he only thinking it because he no longer has the choice? his breath hitches when he hears griffin's footsteps padding down the staircase, not yet quite ready to face the situation with his youngest son. not after what he's seen and been through. “ i'm sure you've already seen the news. ” it was inescapable. like driving past alaina's house, or seeing the missing posters with daniela's face plastered all over town. “ how are you feeling? ” he asks, voice dropping to a gentle whisper.
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 … ”
griffin looks up, slightly bewildered until he realizes it's mina, his heart rate lowering as he offers a sheepish smile, "if they check the cameras, i guess we'll see." he turns his book over onto the counter to scan her prescription. "hope i can trust you then. i can't afford getting fired." he teases, hopping off his stool to grab the cigarettes she requested. he scans them and slides them over to her, "these probably reverse whatever the medication is supposed to be doing for you, by the way." he's mostly joking anyway, he's not one to judge anyone else's habits, "though, i dunno for sure yet. i'll let you know the details when i graduate."' he tells her with a teasing smile. "do you need a bag?" he reaches for a small paper bag under the counter.
" ⸻ no greeting? does your manager know you're not following etiquette, hm? " it was her BEST attempt at sounding like a disgruntled customer, but the way she breaks into an easy - going grin soon after makes it more than clear that she was just kidding. of course, she didn't actually care. he could be trashing the place to his heart content and mina would still mind her own business. " don't worry your secret is safe with me... " she says as she stands in front of the counter then carefully places her prescription down on it and slides it towards him as she looks around. it was mainly a formality to make both of their lives easier, she couldn't be bothered to remember the FULL NAME of whatever pills she has to take in order to not feel like her stomach is dissolving itself. but she DID take them religiously. " just the usual for today... and, uh, a pack of cigarettes if you still keep them behind the counter. "
"i... i dunno," griffin admits, avoiding eye contact like a professional — professional in what? he's not sure. maybe just in being nervous, "my boss just tells me what's going on." and he goes along with it. that's what he's paid for. he looks up when the woman mentions his book, a slight smile on his face, "i really like her other work. and i agree, her writing style and the way she integrates everything thematically with realism and depth despite the subject matter... i could go on for days." he blushes a little, always a bit embarrassed when he talks too much about his interests, "is this all for you today?" he asks as he picks up the painkillers to scan.
" what a peculiar deal . " renee says aloud , fingers skimming over the shelves of products . she offers griffin a strained smile , tries to pretend not to be bothered by the omnipresence of the talbots wherever she turns . it's not his fault . none of this is his fault . he's so young , really . just like josie - and renee would hate for anyone to ever think poorly of her daughter just because of who her parents are . " not necessary for me , though . do you have extra stock or is it a christmas special ? " she slides down her packet of painkillers onto the counter . " shirley jackson has a way of showing women's desperation and grief so well . that's the real horror , in my opinion . " renee muses aloud , smile painted on her lips , never budging . " what made you pick it ? "
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
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? ”
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."
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. ❜
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.