greenscrunchy

Latest Posts by greenscrunchy

rp sentence starters taken from  r.h. sin’s  work  ,  planting gardens in graves 

“ i find comfort beneath the stars ” “ i am free from you ” “ loneliness was the reason i held onto you ” “ you felt like home ” “ all you ever gave them was a town filled with misery ” “ my best relationship was with myself ” “ when people let me down all i had was me ” “ fall in love with my soul first ” “ they’ll always request your trust while betraying you ” “ you are not difficult to love ” “ what is there to love about a person who doesn’t love you ” “ losing you was not a loss ” “ i think i’m better now ” “ all the things that make you happy are either harmful or temporary ” “ they left you when you needed them the most ” “ fuck this idea that you need them ” “ you deserve so much more than what you’ve had ” “ i wear my sadness beneath my smile ” “ i’m not trying to pretend to be happy ” “ i’m just trying to remain strong ” “ all those second chances but everything remained the same ” “ you failed to walk away ” “ i’m way too observant to be fooled ” “ i notice and discover things yet i say nothing ” “ you were my favorite vice ” “ i had to bury you with the rest of my bad habits ” “ you were no longer deserving of my effort ” “ i don’t believe that and neither should you ” “ remember all the things you’ve survived ” “ find your peace and protect it ” “ sometimes you have to choose yourself ” “ people leave too soon ” “ i guess we should bury them deeper this time ” “ you’ve always had value ” “ i was always fighting but no one fought for me ” “ you’ve been searching for peace in chaotic souls ” “ at first the loneliness stings ” “ there’s no reward for coming in second ” “ i no longer desire to watch from the sidelines ” “ the fear of being abandoned keeps us unhappy and alone ” “ i thought i deserved to be unhappy ” “ the worst feeling is not knowing what you’re feeling ” “ i fell in love with your potential ” “ my tolerance for bullshit seems to diminish with age ” “ life appears differently the more you live it ” “ all i’ve ever known is hate ” “ i left myself behind to search for you ” “ my anger is a mask that hides my pain ” “ your lies were so loud ” “ beware of devils who tell lies in an honest tone ” “ my father didn’t raise me ” “ you are just like your mother ” “ your insecurities are not burdens ” “ lonely people do lonely things ” “ my father was the first person to break my heart ” “ you are no one’s instrument ” “ be careful who you make your memories with ” “ they’ll do anything to destroy your peace ” “ i found salvation last night ” “ the truth is i’m drowning in silence ” “ i remember falling ” “ someone taught you to associate anger with passion ” “ what leaves doesn’t deserve to be kept ”

today, i kind of want to emphasize my absolutely stupid volume of chrissy themed playlists. if you want to catch the tone of this blog in a tangible way, this is how!

i. chrissy's playlist ™ ii. chrissy's walkman iii. instrumentals

thanks for the patience as i ooze back once again! as part of my comeback, i edited my rules a bit. nothing too huge, mostly clarification on how i'll be approaching tumblr now. i also rewired some of the carrd links to make navigation clearer. the tbd verses i have listed in there, specifically star wars and bg3/d&d, will be added in the coming week. thanks again for coming to the circus!

 𝘿𝙀𝘼𝙍 𝙀𝘿𝘿𝙄𝙀 𝙈𝙐𝙉𝙎𝙊𝙉                           (hellmartyr​)

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆, 𝐈 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐊 𝐈 𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐊 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐘 𝐆𝐎𝐎𝐃, was what eddie would’ve said if his brain hadn’t flatlined. jaw rusted ajar by shock, his vengeance upended into an anemic stare. questions that were more sensation than language stacked themselves on his teeth, his tongue, leeching the dusty moisture from the back of his throat. his head wasn’t completely empty. there was something resembling a thought for a brief, crudely puerile moment when eddie’s suede eyes widened because chrissy cunningham remembered him. even in his state of oozing wounds, matted hair, and a complexion not unlike an autopsy.

      eddie was still playing catch up when chrissy’s arms interlocked around his torso. an instinctive arm swam around her, shocked by how close to nothing she felt against him. his protection amended itself into a firmer circle as her lament tumbled like tears down the chewed remains of his shirt.

      you’re not dead, his thawing tongue willed itself to say, not yet. as if on cue, an alien wail shattered the unnatural peace. pale surprise overshadowed by a sudden sharpness of narrowed eyes and iron-soaked resolve. the hard line of his lips bent at a grim angle at the shadows in the encroaching mist.

      an encouraging pat warned the girl of his intentions. ❝ come on, let’s get you inside. ❞ shuffling awkwardly, eddie eased chrissy into the station, gingerly rotating their position so that if any spawn of the upside down chose that moment to strike, it’d be forced to go through ed before it ever got a chance to even look at her.

      the door closed behind them with a bloated thunk. there were better odds finding the holy grail stashed in powell’s desk than a surface not covered in disemboweled rot. fearing he’d drop her, eddie settled chrissy in a chair that looked like a cramped piece of shit even without the upside down tinge. as eddie slipped his jacket around the despondent girl, he took the opportunity to take in the horror she’d been through.

      how was it possible for her to be even smaller than he remembered? her skin, a glass menagerie tinted by faded shades of livor mortis. and her eyes, maybe it was a trick of light straining through heavy motes. maybe it was because the last time eddie saw them was the last time anyone did. but eddie swore the twinkle that outshone gymnasium lights was still there. with ghost behind it, barricading the way between him and the girl hiding.

      any furniture not strapped to the ground by vines was dragged and deposited roughly against the door. eddie worked as quickly as his tremoring muscles allowed, always craning his neck to keep an eye on the object of his disbelief, replaying their one way exchange.

      was he real? he didn’t feel real, but he sure as shit felt alive. and — if you squinted — so did chrissy.

      panting from the strain of his task, the young man crouched in front of her, swallowing a dry knot of tension as he stumbled on what to say. because what the fuck do you say to someone murdered from the inside out? ❝ i’m, uh, i’m glad to see you too. ❞ despite the blood on his lower lip and the hellscape in the window, eddie smiled.

      realizing he was holding his breath, eddie flickered from side-to-side for a way to make her a little more comfortable. fastened to his back with medical tape was an outdoor first aid kit eddie scavenged from the drugstore. he was forced to clear out most of its contents, spoiled by the taint that permeated the upside down’s mimicry, leaving him with gauze, several bandages, and a tube of off-brand neosporin that passed the sniff test with skeptical colors. he needed to be careful retrieving its contents. a circular bite wound on his lower back was still runny, exploding with mauve-y pus if he touched it.

      placing the kit on a coaster of debris, eddie skittered to reclaim the treasonous ration from before. he returned, his joints ached as lowered himself again to meekly offer the can of campbell’s schlock to her.

      ❝ it’s safe to eat. i promise. just don’t look at it. ❞

forever ago, sometime during sophomore year, chrissy remembered an experiment she’d done in biology. for two months straight mr. stratner’s class had been drilling the ups and downs and insides and out of the human body and it had been a bumbling, awkward mess no matter what he did. but one wednesday, they’d turned to discussion of the heart. wonder of wonders, mr. stratner had lugged out one of the massive boomboxes from the a/v closet and plopped it on his desk wearing a well earned smirk. what followed was an experiment that turned out to be...fun. 

for almost 45 minutes the entire class experimented with the way music and sound affected the speed of a heartbeat. chrissy and her whole table bent over stopwatches, fingers on pulses and pencils flying. their smiles grew as 4/4 and 6/8 time signatures almost magically bloomed in the tattoo of their heartrates, responding to the music. thoughtful, melancholic strains of chopin eased their pulses to a tranquil putter while tchaikovsky and his cannons sent it sky high. a-ha, the doobie brothers, christopher cross, john waite, starship, spyro gyra, wynton marsalis, all with different rhythms but the same result; parallel rhythms. synchronicity. 

in the spiderweb-fragile moments between embracing what was left of eddie’s mirage, him grasping her back, and the eventual ripping of shrieks from somewhere too close by, there was silence. sweet, strange, then sour. the music of absence. emptiness. and chrissy’s heart paused to match that nothing rhythm. synchronicity in death, where nothing could truly exist. it was everything, everywhere. an ugly, inevitable peace. he’d promised my suffering would end. 

like a vhs struggling over a kink in its tape and then suddenly righting itself to rewind much too fast, time sped itself up again. the un-pause was quick but violent. only a blink and chrissy had been hastily rotated then ushered inside the police station. large hands were still firm over her arms, so she wasn’t going to fall, but she might as well have lost all sense of direction and balance. until a chair was under her. or she was on a chair. had the chair come to her or the other way around?

❝ ah - oh!  ❞  an unexpected face appeared out of nowhere. except it was just eddie, pale white, with muddy gray streaks. like the moon behind clouds. that was fine. five minutes ago she’d have wanted any friendly face at all and if - if only - leaping lizards why wouldn’t her heart rate go down? her breath was coming too fast and shallow, which didn’t calm the sloshing inside her head. all her presence of mind, melted. 

but....breathing. that was something only an alive person could do. eddie was breathing. he was. exhaled air was gusting around her ears as he adjusted something over her. unaware, shaking hands searched it out almost sans chrissy’s awareness or permission. looking down once her fingertips hit canvas, she registered a savaged jacket. 

then he was gone. a volley of thuds and clatters rent the air behind her, but the strawberry blonde didn’t turn to look for causes. instead, she shivered beneath a pile of army surplus as eddie barricaded every possible ingress point in the room, judging by the many slams and grunts in her peripherals. she’d help, but...what help would she really be? 

minutes crawled past. chrissy became one with the chair. behind her, legs of tables turned to splinters and desks became walls in lieu of any real barricade. the sound of metal denting peppered the air now and again, matched by the horrible squeaks of file cabinets digging into the floor with a last gasp of obstinance. 

nothing in hawkins ever did fold easily. 

and there eddie was again, this time at eye level and heaving like he’d forgotten about air during his rushed renovations. this wasn’t a dead man after all, she considered at long last, staring into the last real pair of eyes she’d seen before falling headlong into that...creature’s clutches. friendly then, friendly now. maybe more now because he was smiling. or giving his all in the effort. chrissy tried to offer him the same, although she had very little idea of what her face was doing. honestly, she might have started crying instead. it was hard to tell. maybe both. 

❝ th  —  ❞  her throat rebelled, spiraling her into a brief coughing fit. salt water kept getting in her mouth as she clumsily gulped down air. smiling and crying, then.  ❝ sorry. ❞  but he was skittering raccoonishly out of reach then back again, now proffering a raggedy can of goop. chrissy couldn’t exactly smell through her unattractively running nose, but she could imagine. her gut entire writhed and shrank away from the sight, petrified, but she commanded her shaking hands to reach for it anyway. inside looked like an extension of the vomitous wreath cloaking this nightmare land in every direction. the outside benignly announced “campbell’s”.

❝ thanks. i, um, don’t think i’m hungry, but thanks?  ❞  still, she clung to the aluminum as an anchor. unwanted as its contents might be, the gift she still understood.   ❝ so  —  you’re actually alive. right? you are? if you are, then i am.❞  teeth absently tugged at peeling skin across her lips, where another drop of salt water crept into the soft, red valleys and stung.  ❝ where are we? i don’t understand. what happened or how i got here. how did you get here?  ❞  one long, fierce swallow around a gordian knot inside her throat halted all progress, but not for long. even if she had to whisper to pry the words free. 

❝ is there a way to get out? ❞

as i watch (and rewatch and rewatch) s4 ep4, it's impossible not to reflect on how each of vecna's victims may hazily or not so hazily represent different stages of giving up on life as a young person. across the board, all four teens presented flickering signs of internal turmoil that could have been clocked under a more watchful eye. but it's still those small differences, those small choices, that make a world of difference when it comes to approaching a struggling friend.

chrissy didn't truly want to die, just to escape. she easily could have been pulled out of her state of desperation if someone had truly stepped in a little earlier. the one helpful person she managed to confide in, ms. kelley, despite ms. kelley's valuable efforts, didn't have the time or the bandwidth for her she might have liked. the next person didn't know chrissy well enough to properly step in and intervene, even though he tried and came the closest anyone had so far. but before that, none of her peers had invested in her in an actionable way despite her tries to find her way through the cracks of her own self-made image and call for help. everyone assumed everything was fine, until it wasn't. because it was chrissy.

fred was the bottler, who channeled and ignored his way through guilt and grief to build himself a normal life out of ruins. and it worked! it worked until a trigger appeared. enough of a trigger to bring him back down. it started small, but grew more debilitating over a short period and sent him down a dark, consuming spiral that he all of a sudden couldn't escape from. he'd unintentionally isolated himself, and no matter who might have wanted to step in for him in his time of need, they were too far away. fred didn't truly want to die either. but once his trigger became too close and suffocating, he lost his way.

patrick was the wilter, who incrementally became less and less of himself among his family and friends. the way his father treated him ground down his self esteem and warped the voice inside his head until it became nothing but his father's unkind words. unfortunately, the descent was so gradual that all his friends adapted until suddenly it was long past too late to pull patrick from the depths of his sunken self worth and tell him he deserved better.

then there's max. the avoidant. the stoic. she plugged along, trying to pull herself up and out by her own bootstraps. but the biggest difference here was the open investment her friends maintained in her life. they were willing to bend over backwards to remain by her side until she reached out a hand for help. they tried and tried and tried until it was almost too late, but by then, they'd done enough. max saw just how much she was watched over. she saw her friends' concern for what it was: love, not nagging complaints that she "wasn't who she used to be". they cared more for her well being than to where the old max had disappeared. they paid attention to what mattered to her and offered it when she was finally ready. at every turn after the graveyard, she worked to accept more help and they did the work to understand what kind of communication max needed so that she could continue trusting they had her best interest at heart.

td;lr - love your friends loudly. you never know who might need what.

"I wouldn't want to bother anyone," I say as the thing inside of me eats me alive.

MY FELLOW QUEEN, it is time for both of our chrissys to go skipping down the orange and green brick road and live again, LIIIIIIIVE DAMN IT.

-- The ABSOLUTE Queen, @greenscrunchy , is back and I am WIGGLING WITH EXCITEMENT to see her back.

There are shards of my childhood on the floor. I try to piece them together, but everywhere I step, I bleed.

𝘿𝙀𝘼𝙍 𝙒𝘼𝙍𝙍𝙀𝙉 𝙋𝙀𝘼𝘾𝙀                             ( roastyoualive​ )

whenever there's a moment to generate clear thoughts inside the falsely labyrinthian halls of hawkins high, chrissy has begun wondering if the pathways of her brain have been rewired in the exact same turns and corners. stupid, since almost four years have passed in this place and that seemed hardly enough time for her life entire to be remolded. but something as mundane as high school, evidently, did have that power. a sparse but reportedly all-powerful adult presence mixed with still developing young minds hungry for some kind of independence created a strange kind of panic room masquerading its every wall as windows. there was nowhere to go but in until you were cast out on your butt to be the mystical mature everyone said was required after twelfth grade. a place where all students were asked to be older but treated younger, at its most basic.

at the eventual end of her illustrious career as a hawkins high elite, chrissy was sure she'd be picking out splinters of the school's influence for years.

a new shard lodged itself in hidden places she'd doubtlessly discover later when a voice shattered the brief silence she'd wrapped herself in. it made its intrusion gently, but could not escape what it was. despite herself, chrissy jolted.

❝ huh?? ❞ immediately, too sharp. her grimace offered the first apology. ❝ i — sorry, i was — i mean i wasn't... sorry. i'm okay, yeah. just get lost in my own head sometimes, when stuff here get too loud. probably senioritis, you know? ❞

if whoever this polite guy might be wasn't convinced of her sanity, she'd hardly blame him. that had been one of her poorer saves to date. thankfully, the burst of adrenaline cleared her clouded thoughts enough to see his expression. he wasn't exactly in his comfort zone either. time to save what she could of the moment.

❝ thanks for checking. ❞ a swallow. ❝ i appreciate it. i hope your day hasn't been as weird as mine. ❞ finally she'd collected enough presence of mind for a real smile and a sentence that sounded spoken by an actual human being instead of a zombie. ❝ have i passed your table at lunch recently? they somehow change every year. was it the science club, maybe? ❞

LYRIC STARTER || @greenscrunchy

SONG: DIAMOND IN THE ROUGH - THE NEARLY DEADS

Warren knows he's not exactly social - he's never tried to be. Quite the opposite, in fact. He liked the isolation. It was relaxing. It was safe. (As safe as anything could be, but Hawkins had been pretty quiet, so far.) 

Social or not, he still knows who this is as soon as he turns the corner. Of course he does - it’s Chrissy Cunningham. Everyone knows who she is. Cheer captain, one of the popular kids. Most people said she was nice, but Warren had never spoken to her. Again, he liked quiet. Not social. All that. 

But when he sees the look on her face, he freezes. He almost turns on his heel. He definitely looks away. He feels like he shouldn’t be looking at her like this - like nobody should see her like this. She’s sad. Chrissy Cunningham is sad. Hypocritical as it is, that feels unnatural. He falters, glances around. 

“Uh-” Yup, they’re the only ones here. Nobody else to save either of them from the situation. “Are you… Okay?”

@v1ctimplagued / @godstrayed - cont. from here

It wasn't as if he was keenly aware of many secrets. He heard gossip here and there but he wasn't too close to anyone to have many wanting to confide in him. The last thing Billy inspired was trust or a sense of safety. Rather it was quite the opposite. "Should I pretend that I know what you're talking about? Color me amused. What secrets does Chrissy Cunningham know?"

what a way to kill an already limp mood. and how is she supposed to answer such a targeted barb so quick on the heels of dismissal? it's not like she’d never been rebuffed so thoroughly before; getting shrugged off was a fact of life with jason and chrissy learned the ins and out of how to sidestep his proclivities quickly. a private little list of rules she walks around with inscribed inside her skull and carved by half moon nails in her palms. she’s prepared for a jason anywhere. however, none of hawkins was truly prepared for the hellion hurricane that was billy hargrove. including chrissy. 

his effect was like a slap in its suddenness. chrissy’s body was decidedly at school, yet the walls of home were a noose drawing in closer around her, her previous interest in gently examining billy’s persona further, almost fully dashed. a quotidian familiarity she liked even less than the immediate one pricked tender bits of her brain she’d rather leave alone completely. 

( i’ve laid awake at night, starting to wonder if going home at the end of the day feels the same way for you as it does me. dread. pure anxiety. feeling sicker the closer you get. how’s that for a secret, billy? but i won’t be telling you. )

instead, chrissy blinked, then squinted like a lamb in the sun. she knew her role to play in this conversation with certainty now.

                       “if you don’t actually care, then it doesn’t matter how you find out. word spreads fast enough. if not by tonight’s game, then tomorrow,” she added with a shrug. light, airy, careless – hoping for no fire to follow. billy’s moods were less an open secret and more like a guarantee. “i’m surprised jason hasn’t acted out more in front of you or steve since he wants the captain spot next year. but … you know, if you don’t care, that’s probably better.”

hiya tigers! i'm in the midst of oozing my way back on here, so i'm beginning to post some stuff that has sat in my drafts for a while. one offs, threads with inactive or moved blogs, etc. if you get a random notif from me and you're wondering why, that's why! all excuses to write are good excuses and i'm using what i have LOL

Supernatural & Paranormal Sentences, Vol. 4

(Sentences from various sources for muses exploring the unexplained. Adjust phrasing where needed)

"So, at this point, we have no human suspects?"

"We're going to a cabin in the woods in the middle of nowhere?"

"That's a superstition. It doesn't mean it's true."

"You can't tell me that what happened didn't freak you out just a little bit!"

"What could you possibly be looking for by probing up there?"

"I can't follow any of this!"

"People believe what they want to believe."

"Look! It's a spaceship!"

"Did it just get cold?"

"Maybe this is a sign?"

"The living and the dead belong in different places."

"Is there not just one tiny part of you that wonders if I'm right?"

"Call me crazy, but that looks just like an alien implant."

"I'm not sure, but I believe I was visited by a giant."

"Is there anything that you don't believe in?"

"It's definitely a spaceship."

"What I'm saying is, that ship didn't crash - it parked."

"It came down in the rock."

"I've never seen so many trees in my life!"

"What touched this place cannot be quantified or understood by human science."

"I have a gift. I look at people and I see things."

"What year is this?"

"I assure you, my intentions are pure."

"Some mysteries aren't meant to be solved."

"Is it me, or is this just... Wrong?"

"You look like you've paid a visit to the Devil himself."

"You can't charm your way out of a bullet."

"I've seen you in a dream."

"I'll advise you to keep your eye on the woods. The woods are wondrous here, but strange."

"Every place is dangerous to the ignorant."

"I am done being afraid. It's your turn now."

I LOVE YOU PUCK BB. It's a treat to have you on my dash thriving and being such a talent!! Love you oodles!

VIC. NIGHTSISTER. LADY SOLO. PRINCESS CUNNINGHAM.

thank absolute heck for you. to be back and vibing in these conditions is so lovely and you were a big bit part of that. i appreciate your presence so much. like, we know for a fact that not everyone who picks up chris matches her aura of generosity, so what you do for the dash and rpc is very meaningful and makes such a difference. i'm pumping my lil arms to catch up, excited to do my part making this place safe and the appropriate stranger things level of ABSOLUTELY FUCKED UP fun right along with you 💛

thank you, cinnamoroll (that's a childhood dream right there) 🧡💛 and i'm so charmed to see the rest of the Strangers included in this. as it should be!

order up for @greenscrunchy!

steve's car window was mercifully cool where chrissy's forehead pressed against it. faint radio sounds and the benign chill were suitable distractions from the aura of pure discomfort steve was radiating as he drove. chrissy herself was radiating plenty back. unpleasant as the environment was becoming she still felt free to curl into a lumpy ball, unjudged.

the former king of hawkins high really did wear his heart on his sleeve; every time he let it gleam a little from the corner of his eye, the cheerleader wished again that they didn't have to be here. or, more accurately, that what brought them to exactly this place wasn't almost dying (perishing then resurrecting from the actual dead, to be specific).

but considering the unavoidable turn chrissy cunningham's life was about to take, maybe death was the only thing that could have brought her to this brink.

the metal strip of car door her skin rested on grew warm. too warm. her thoughts raced just as fast as the molecules she imagined beginning to vibrate within the metal. no matter that "scary" paled in comparison to surviving the upside down and clambering out to a town in complete ruins, real life still frightened her. laura cunningham still scared her. and that was precisely why, when they arrived to their destination, steve harrington was keeping his ass right where it was. he'd hate it, but chrissy refused to allow any more collateral damage in her wake. eddie munson's death was one too many already.

mindlessly, teeth began nibbling on the loose layer of skin on her lips, still so dry after the week in the hospital. don't forget chapstick.

then steve managed at last to say the thing he'd been working at for long minutes and a stop sign or two. she'd have given him a smile if she could. the answer was still no, though. gentlemanly respect and acts of service aside, steve couldn't actually help her face her mom: the entire reason he was driving her home. this was her hurdle to leap and hers alone.

❝ i know what you're doing, steve. ❞ how come her voice could give away so much? wasn't she better at masking by now? even to her own ears she sounded exhausted and pathetic and there was no way steve would miss it. ❝ i have to do this myself. it's really not about carrying worldly possessions down the stairs, even though i wish it was. ❞  

long before they pulled out of his driveway, chrissy had made and memorized a list of the items she'd want to keep and kept it short. seven books. the stuffed sheep and pink bear on her bed. any clothes she'd bought with her own money that fit in her biggest duffle bag. her diaries and her bible with the pretty crocheted case. makeup. any jewelry from her dad. one purse. every part of her thanked her past self for putting her backpack and wallet in her locker before the drive to forest hills, so that wouldn't be a problem.

❝ as stupid as it sounds, i need her to....be like she would. without someone like you watching. i have to remember why i'm leaving or else i might have second thoughts. you know what i mean? ❞  

@greenscrunchy brought back-up this time...

There was an urge to drum his fingers on the steering wheel of the BMW as he drove that he masked by keeping the beat of the music that he'd turned down, but not off, to hide the silence without making it impossible to talk. They weren't speaking much, so it didn't really seem to matter how loud the music was, but it wasn't for lack of a topic. Chrissy was in the passenger seat, and if he had to guess, she was far more anxious than he was, but that really wasn't helping how he was feeling about the whole thing. He'd agreed to this, but he didn't have to like all of the steps.

There was a beat where his lips parted, a breath drawn to speak before he aborted the attempt, murmuring some of the song lyrics seemingly absently as he paused at a stop sign to wait for a truck to go and then continued. It didn't require as much concentration as all that, but the things he wanted to say did - he gave her a sidelong glance, trying to gauge how she was doing. "Soooo, I've been thinking about it, and I get that this is a thing and you wanna do this yourself and I respect that," he said, adding the last part quickly so it absolutely was not in question before he glanced her way again. "But that doesn't mean you have to carry all your stuff on your own. I could help with that, just keep quiet and carry everything for you."

If he sounded a little hopeful, he could hardly be blamed. They'd all proven time and again that their biggest strengths came from being together, so it made sense that it would apply here and now, as well.

parent-child dynamics are soooo crazy. i love you i resent you i can't stand you i adore you i pity you. and still watching your hair get a little more grey every time i see you makes my stomach feel weird

                  ❝ i've never been in a gang before. what am i supposed to do? do we have meetings? is it like a school club? ❞

@roastyoualive warren said to join the scooby gang so here she is

a million years later but it never felt more right 🧡 the biggest, BIGGEST thank you to sky for this gorgeous piece with my favorite troubled trio!

A commissioned sketch for @greenscrunchy of Steve, Chrissy, and Eddie looking very concerned! I always love an opportunity to draw the babies- thank you so much for commissioning me!!

I heard one thing, now I'm hearing another

City of the Living Dead (1980) dir. Lucio Fulci

If you marry me

Would you bury me?

Would you carry me to the end?

Sweet smell of summer 🌼

Franny Choi, from “Catastrophe is Next to Godliness”

order up! remember to do something just for yourself today. you're doing your best and you deserve a little pick-me-up! keep hanging on because sweeter times are sure to be here, soon!

💛💛💛 i'll definitely take this to heart today, and i hope anyone reading this does, too. it's the perfect day to snag a used book to treat well, drink some tea or coffee (or water, that too) and listen to a song that used to be on repeat that never lost its magic.

thank you, cinna! 🧡

From one Chrissy mun to another; I want to give you a little reminder that your portrayal is one of a kind! You put so much into the writing and into making her your own version and it shows! (Plus you have great muse taste). I'm rooting for you endlessly and wish you a happy hump day! May the rest of your week go swimmingly!

^^^ me when you

in all seriousness, what a lovely thing to see today!!! it warms my heart so much to know chrissy has such sweet rep in this little community and your positivity in particular is a gift. 🧡 tysm victoria!!! keep on keeping on yourself, and cheers to spectacular muse taste ;)

much love from me to you 🧡💚🤍 team chrissy always

Sedmikrásky (1966)

𝐼 𝑎𝑚 𝑡𝑟𝑦𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡𝑜 𝑚𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑚𝑦𝑠𝑒𝑙𝑓 𝑑𝑖𝑔𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑏𝑙𝑒. 𝐼 𝑎𝑚 𝑡𝑟𝑦𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡𝑜 𝑚𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑚𝑦𝑠𝑒𝑙𝑓 𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑦 𝑡𝑜 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒.

—I.B. Vyache, Conversations Over Sanguinaccio Dolce