( ᵔ◡ᵔ )

it wasn't your fault. you know that, right?             /             @vihilum​ (nancy)

the breath chrissy drew in was long and labored.

hawkins’ last three roller coaster years had proved wildly informative. power hungry corporations were allegedly endangering kids left and right, often enough to kill a few.  (chrissy still recalled the last time she saw barbara holland in the cafeteria. if memory served, chrissy had been a little jealous of the smile on barb’s face.)  there had been monsters at work from the beginning, biding their time below hawkins like spiders twitching, waiting patiently for a fly to clumsily flutter its way into their web.

but what chrissy cunningham had known for longer than the godforsaken upside down existed? it was her fault. it was always her fault. for eating the extra mouthful of protein, for not smiling hard enough, for not kicking high enough, for not willing herself weightless in the air to fly higher, born just unpretty enough to have to make up for that lack everywhere else. 

amazing, how one voice could sound like a thousand. and the few outliers that didn’t sound like the one rang so falsely at first.

                       ❝ are we so sure? ❞  i was weak enough to start the disaster. the gates. 

she pivoted to look at nancy. hard. it felt monstrous all of a sudden to bore her gaze into the fellow senior’s face. it felt.....like turning the splitting stare of her own mother onto someone innocent of any wrongdoing. all nancy wheeler, good, reasonable, strong, determined nancy wheeler who flouted every high school expectation to stick up her chin and say what i want matters more than what you think of me, had done was ask an absolving question. 

from experience, a queen bee’s glare could wither anyone from underclassmen to upperclassmen just as much as her smile could turn eyes to stars. that power came in handy now and again, unearned as it was. but in this moment....

she couldn’t do this. chrissy couldn’t do this to nancy. not even because she wanted honesty without cotton candy fluff and nonsense. to survive all this and to let her fears and worry mold her around constant suspicion? what a waste of time all but lost the night spring break began. she’d already spent enough of her life ruined and pretending.

                      ❝ i’m sorry i’m pushing you. there’s still.... ❞  the smile she tried to push forth flickered true for a moment, then plummeted to bittersweet. no vaseline teeth here. (deep down, something hinted that nancy's the type to say forced optimism is pointless. the impression unwound a hidden knot in the cheerleader’s chest.)  ❝ a lot to wrap my head around. have you ever been told something your whole life then all of a sudden the opposite is true? ❞  the words floated a few moments before chrissy huffed a chuckle at her toes, flicking her left pointer nail against the seam in her pants.  ❝ like maybe there’s no such thing as a parallel universe. and suddenly there is, right here under our feet. ❞

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?”

the freak and the cheerleader.

the reporter and the news.

tigers and sheep.

chrissy does well with opposites. 

pretend i'm dead.

dialogue prompts from pretend i’m dead by jen beagin.

sorry. i’ve made you uncomfortable with my creepy honesty.

would you care for a bear claw?

if god gives you lemons, find a new god.

i’m going to miss you. i miss you already.

you’re not even here. where are you right now?

do you live in a commune or something?

i wasn’t born like this, you know.

what’s your least favorite word?

i’ve always felt a weird affinity for monotony and repetition.

i make my living as a thief.

you smell like hope.

let’s embrace our lone wolf status.

all i ask is that you try not to judge me.

i don’t think we’re done with each other yet, do you?

could you come over? just for five minutes? i’m freaking out.

that’s why i took so many notes. i knew you’d want to know exactly what happened.

since when do you care about dying?

stay. i’ll read you a story.

i read your diary.

i fully want to make out with you again.

i’m like, totally lost without you.

i apologize for the tragic ending.

loneliness is a presence you can feel in your body.

i don’t have anyone making deals with the devil for me.

there’s something supernatural about you.

i don't like being pushed around by something i can't see.

i'm sorry. i'm just joking around, it's a defense mechanism.

you are what you talk about.

feelings are just stories. they have a beginning and an end.

don't be so sure my family wants to hear from me.

sometimes i think you make this shit up on the fly.

were you hitting on me last night?

you run like you're being chased by a demon.

you've always been good at pretending like nothing happened.

you're not ready yet. but i'll be here when you are.

it wasn't your fault. you know that, right?

what do you say? can we keep each other's secrets for a while?

which secret do you want me to keep?

hearing about myself in the past is like hearing about some other person.

god, you have a mean bone.

why are you lying?

honest to god, does that excuse ever work?

stop stalling and look at me.

when are you going to stop mocking me?

everyone has some psychic ability. you have to learn how to see first, and then you just read what you see.

do you know what it's like to be in love with someone who hates your guts?

i said i majored in ___, i never said i graduated.

i'm getting you out of here.

i've been thinking about whether or not to tell you something.

you know, there's a support group for people like you.

you and i have met for a reason.

you're either an optimist or a masochist.

just me, myself, and i. we bicker constantly.

i'll be your friend.

it was only a week, but it was the longest year of my life.

you ever own your part in anything. you make everyone else wear your shit.

i don't want a relationship. i want retribution.

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

—I.B. Vyache, Conversations Over Sanguinaccio Dolce

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 𝙈𝙄𝙆𝙀 𝙒𝙃𝙀𝙀𝙇𝙀𝙍                             ( partysheart​ )

@greenscrunchy​ asked:  “don’t  go  in  there,  it’s  haunted!” HALLOWEEN  SENTENCE  STARTERS. | still accepting!

          cutting  through  the  woods  to  save  time  probably  wasn’t  the  brightest  idea,  especially  given  all  the  mishaps  that  seem  to  befall  hawkins,  but  they  were  on  a  time  crunch,  here.  still,  chrissy’s  warning  makes  mike  stop  in  his  tracks,  gaze  turning  back  to  her,  brow  furrowing.

          he  watches  her  for  a  moment,  wondering—briefly—if  she’s  just  fucking  with  him.  though,  on  second  thought,  mike  remembers,  chrissy  isn’t  really  the  type  to  do  that.

          “ what  do  you  mean…? ”

                       ❝ something’s....buzzing. ❞

not much fall chill could properly filter through the hawkins foliage, still thick despite the lateness in the season. nevertheless, wet leaves underneath a steady breeze spread enough brisk air across the ground to multiply goosebumps all across chrissy’s stockinged legs. that, or the pervasive buzz festooning nearby soundwaves with an air of menace. 

                      ❝ it could be nothing except the quiet, but.... ❞  the way she’s unconsciously clutching her sweater sleeves almost to the point of dampness tattles on her unease. ❝ but there’s been a couple stories. about hawkins kids going missing in this part of the woods, near the park. ❞  it’s silly. she’s just being overly jumpy. tense shoulders try to buck away the pricks of fear, probably to dubious effect. her subsequent glance toward mike edges toward pleading. so much has gone wrong in previous years that even the smallest notion of mike getting wrapped up in trouble again tastes too bitter to swallow.   ❝ even if it’s just electricity, like power lines, maybe don’t go that way? we can run along the normal path  -  i’m fast. ❞

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