"just Respect Me? Damn. Can't Even Throw A Love In There?" Cyrus Teased, Leaning Against The Kitchen
"just respect me? damn. can't even throw a love in there?" cyrus teased, leaning against the kitchen counter and folding his arms across his chest, "you could have just put a few movies on, i wouldn't tell the missus they're going over their screentime for the day." he chuckled. he didn't particularly care about the screentime thing as long they were both still signed up for at least one extracurricular or sport. though, too much time on the ipad seemed like it would rot their brains. "you know i appreciate you watching them." he nodded at tori, "i'd like to think they're less of a handful than our little siblings were." and he was at times too, but cyrus had a knack for rewriting history and any of his own troubles no longer existed in his personal retelling. "they'll eat vegetables, don't you worry. they aren't allowed to get up from the table until they do." he grinned, "zeke sat there until almost nine once when we had brussel sprouts." then he sighed, nodding his head toward her mug, "do you have any decaf?"
LOCATION : cromwell house . TIME : six o'clock , dinner time . STATUS : closed for @chappcdlips !
ducking into the kitchen , tori let out the deep breath she had been holding since her niece and nephew had arrived that afternoon . time heals all wounds and apparently also rids you of the stamina it takes to handle two kids under the age of ten . her maternal instincts would probably never fade , honed to near perfection from before she could do basic algebra , but cy's kids were … well, cy's kids . which meant they were just like not him , not just in appearance . he used to get on her every nerve , probably more than their other siblings , and while the kids weren't quite at that level of aggravating yet , they were certainly climbing the ranks . a healthy dinner of her making , with all the necessary food groups accounted for sat before them in the dining room and she checked on the decidely unhealthy desert : cinnamon rolls absolutely smothered in icing . at the sound of the kitchen door swinging open , she turned to look at her brother , taking a sip of her jack - spiked cola in a mug . “ you're very lucky i respect you or else i would've sat them in front of some very colorful disney movies and that would've been the extent of my babysitting duties . ”
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fawn nearly snorted at kaz's attempt to be rude to her, a clever smile curling her lips as she looked him up and down patronizingly. he almost made it too easy. she clicked her tongue, "nah, buying food to drop off at my place. money's tight, my friend," she sighed, "sometimes you gotta watch your own back. but feel free to waste your money on charity. least you can do considering where ya work." she flashed a faux sweet smile, grabbing a box of cinnamon toast crunch and tossing it into her cart. "but be sure to tell june i said 'hey.'" she teased.
"i'm buying food to drop off at finch and june's apartment. is that what you're doing too?" he was never good at being mean, being the bad guy, provoking someone. he preferred to sit and watch, bide his time until they confessed to him. but he couldn't resist himself, add a little quip as he ran into fawn at amrak.
@chappcdlips
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
// ( 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)
// ( 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)
attempting to get a cup of coffee before he headed home, cyrus was distracted by the voice beside him at the counter. he glanced over at soren, an eyebrow lifting, "it's because it's bad for you." he deadpanned, too irritated to actually put up any sort of act. his day had been too long and the statement too annoying. cyrus was practically pathological about how he treated his own body and so always thought that everyone else must hold themselves to the same standards, "your body is a temple. everything you put in it matters." cyrus explained, tone only really slightly pretentious, "you're too young to be messing up your body like that." he shook his head, "what is it? the aesthetic of cigarettes? not worth the smell or the diseases. trust me." he sighed, thanking the waitress as she set his coffee in front of him, "stick to caffeine or something. and don't start that damn vaping. we don't even know the long-term health consequences of that."
location: dolly's diner time: late afternoon status: open!
something about diners. greasy leather seats. overheard secrets tangled up with the clatter of forks. bitter, often stale coffee -- unless you got lucky enough to walk in when the place was mostly empty. unlikely. the kind of place where time hangs heavy, like it got tired and sat down to rest in the corner booth. red creek felt the same, like it had long surrendered to time’s weight instead of running alongside it. no reinvention, no salvation -- just a stubborn place clinging to people like mud after rain, or maybe quicksand, tugging until they sank without a fight. soren didn't have to imagine dark things haunting its bones when its effect where already laying there, sprawled out for anyone willing to see. maybe ancient spirits seeking revenge after having their forever homes suffocated with asphalt and cement. maybe nothing at all, just the weight of a town folding in on itself, vanishing into a fog you didn’t know you’d entered until it was too late. soren wouldn't flinch if someone shattered the silence with a lynchian scream -- sinister close-ups, faces trembling under the pressure of things better left unsaid -- right there in the diner, right as he staed at his gone stale coffee. and perhaps it was his obsession with intricate stories that blurred the line with reality, but twin peaks really didn't feel like fiction anymore; it was a blueprint, a warning for places like this, where the mundane teetered on the edge of surreal, where time sagged, like peeling wallpaper in a room sealed off for too long, and good people stumbled into band endings. even diners -- those greasy churches of familiarity -- could warp into confessional booths. soren let his face fall into his hands, elbows propped at the sides of the cup of coffee. if it had been steaming, it would've made a perfect shot. “ you know what's bullshit, ” he spoke as soon as he felt a presence next to him finally glad to push his inner monologue onto someone else, anyone unlucky enough to hear. he continued as his hands dropped to his lap, revealing a face worn thin by restless nights. “ the fact that they made it illegal to smoke in public places. especially diners. ” though it wasn't just diners. it was also cinemas, trains, pubs.... a beat. then two fingers lifted to his lips, mimicking the pitch of a cigarette between index and thumb. soren inhaled theatrically, face tilting upward as though savoring the hit. then, just as theatrically, he ground the phantom amber into an imaginary glass ashtray, the kind with ornate edges. clock. sound design coming from his tongue against his palate and he swat the phantom ashtray away, still dipped in his interactive daydream.
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