𝘿𝙀𝘼𝙍 𝘽𝙍𝙄𝘿𝙂𝙀𝙏 𝘾𝙇𝘼𝙍𝙆𝙀                     

nothing new // taylor swift feat. phoebe bridgers

the brevity of chrissy’s story matters because what’s the prevailing mood after she dies? that she had so much potential. that she had so much to live for.

what, then, is the takeaway?

so do you.

𝘿𝙀𝘼𝙍 𝙊𝙋𝙃𝙀𝙇𝙄𝘼 𝙋𝙀𝙍𝙍𝙔                               ( sainterror ​)

@greenscrunchy​ : “i always feel sad for the girl that i was.”

pleated skirt smooths out between fingers before her elbows move to rest on the sticky mall table. ophelia considers the weight of chrissy’s words, how they feel like an anvil pressing on her chest. she swirls the red straw around in her cup and brings the bottom half to her mouth, licking the strawberry smoothie off the end, “i used to.” the admission is bitter on her tongue, phe’s brown eyes flicker up.

stray glitter speckles across her skin like freckles, over her lashes and dusted in her hair; it was her armor that reflects back in the yellow lighting of the food court. “and then i just stopped.” 

re: swallowed it down. re: boxed it up. re: poured gasoline over the top and watched it burn. 

grief was not foreign to ophelia perry — it grew around her bones like ivy strangling an old house. which made mourning parts of herself easy. which made killing parts of herself easier. 

she sighs and scrunches up her nose, the watered down smoothie was beginning to look unappetizing the further she stirs the straw, “i thought to myself, phe, if that girl was any good, she’d be sitting here — not me … gotta gut the parts of you that don’t fit anymore,” pull at the sinew of it, tug the meat away, “that’s the only way we can survive all of this.” for emphasis she rolls her eyes around them.

chrissy has learned to like iced tea. she has. it’s got a...taste. something to latch her wandering thoughts to as she sucks what entertainment she can through the straw. phe has red, the same color as chrissy, but the shade appears more vivid plunged into the last dregs of a milkshake. 

a little more alive.

it’s jarring, perpendicular to the topical mood. one that’s less visible than a spider’s web but more present and more sour than venom. it’s the lemon in chrissy’s tea turning sour and warped with every pull of liquid.

                  ❝ you think that’s part of growing up? just.....having to leave everything we thought we were behind? realizing we’re someone else? ❞  

it doesn’t seem correct to have this conversation as a pair of seventeen-or-so year olds in early june. not in starcourt mall surrounded by neon and swinging plastine shopping bags and shrieks of every single kid under seventeen in hawkins  concentrated in the same place, apparently. 

all of a sudden chrissy feels too old for all of this.

how did they get here? to this mental doldrum of withering under the harsh sun of reality catching up to them, the great fibs of youth fading away to husks that befit the parched heart of autumn better than the apex of summer? their very presence, immersed as they are in gridlocked angst, feels obverse to the setting. chrissy did not come to the mall to feel like a square peg smacking at a round hole and yet that’s what happened. maybe phe has a point. maybe, lurking under all the attempts at making sense of lives half lived, this is all there is. 

a last smack of semi-sweetness hiding in her tea yanks at a bit of hope still left. maybe resignation isn’t the totality of their lot. that sure would be nice. 

                    ❝ i’ve got an idea - for when you’re done. something we can do. ❞

PHOEBE BRIDGERS LYRIC PROMPTS.

inspired from phoebe’s albums: punisher and stranger in the alps. as always, some triggering content may be present! change any pronouns to better suit your muse(s) needs!

why would somebody do this on purpose?

i wanted to go, but i didn’t.

we talk until we think we might just kill ourselves.

you were screamin’ at the evangelicals.

swore i could feel you through the walls.

i had to carry you.

i’m hungry for blood.

somebody better be dying.

now i can’t breathe, and i can’t sleep.

i feel something when i see you now.

anyway, don’t be a stranger.

i hate living by the hospital.

you must’ve been looking for me.

if it meant i would see you when i die.

all the skeletons you hide…

it must be something in the water.

will you have me, or watch me fall?

remember getting the truck fixed?

i know there’s something waiting for us.

i don’t know what i want.

baby, you’re a vampire.

i can’t open my mouth and forget how to talk.

always surprised by what i do for love.

we can be anything.

please don’t hold me to it.

i only went one time.

the end is here.

and what about the band?

show me yours, i’ll show you mine.

i know he needs you, you’re all that he sees.

be whatever you want.

i scared you in your house.

i want to live at the holiday inn.

i guess it’s too late to change it now.

i’m thinking out loud.

tell me what you’ll do, please.

one of your eyes is always half-shut.

i’m singing at a funeral tomorrow.

i’ve been talking to his dad, it makes me so sad…

somebody roll the windows down.

i’ve got a good feeling.

i would do anything for you.

i’ll be whatever you want.

i don’t need you to tell me what that means.

i asked him nicely once to pack his things and go.

something happened when you were a kid.

there’s a last time for everything.

i couldn’t take it any longer, and i lost control.

it’s amazing to me how much you can say.

i didn’t know you then and i’ll never understand.

do you feel ashamed?

i went with you up to the place you grew up in.

there’s something i’m supposed to say.

i swear i’m not angry, that’s just my face.

you, you must’ve been looking for me.

no, i’m not afraid of hard work.

you got me good; i knew you would.

you know the killer doesn’t understand.

man, i wish that i could say the same.

if i fix you, will you hate me?

i miss you like a little kid.

i could scream to drown you out.

next time i see you, you’ll show me.

he is a fine new addition, so young and so clean.

always have and i always will.

i’m at the movies, i don’t remember what i’m seeing.

i’m tired of trying to get in the house.

wouldn’t know where to start.

i want to believe.

i’m losing all my hair.

it’s a government drone or an alien spaceship.

everyone knows you’re the way to my heart.

i even scared myself by talking.

i’m on the outside looking through.

i’m standing too close.

sorry that it all went down like it did.

last night, i blacked out in my car.

i’m gonna kill you.

he came up through the water without a sound.

you get a few points for tryin’.

i can count on you to tell me the truth.

i’ve never seen you smiling so big.

he got me good, i knew he would.

i’m always pushing you away from me.

he missed my heart.

i grew up here, ‘til it all went up in flames.

i want to go home.

they dragged me off to jail, set a million dollar bail.

i will always be right here.

there’s no place like my room.

i don’t wanna be alone.

i wanted to see the world.

but i asked him one more time, this time pulled out my shiv.

was hoping you would let it go, and you did.

the drug stores are open all night.

no, it’s not important, they’re just pretty words, my dear.

that’s quite a list, but there’s one thing you missed.

it’s gonna be just like my recurring dream.

i’m a liar.

i get this feeling whenever i feel good.

i’ll stay out of my own hell.

for generations, they’ll romance us, make us more.

that’s just how i feel.

i buried a hatchet, it’s coming up lavender.

i turned around, there was nothing there.

from the window, it’s not a bad show.

not even the burnouts are out here anymore.

i hardly feel anything at all.

so i gotta go, i know, i know, i know.

you were still in the ambulance.

you always say that you’d prefer to drown.

i’m amazed that you’re alright.

when i’m lonely, that’s when i’ll burn it.

if you find me, will you know me?

they were screamin’ right back from what i remember.

i’ve been running around in circles.

i've been playing dead.

i’m sleeping in my bed again, and getting in my head.

they make you live in the past.

i can hardly feel anything.

i woke up in my childhood bed.

a feeling of relief came over my soul.

i want to know what would happen.

you’re gonna drown in your sleep for sure.

he never lies or picks up his phone.

you’re holding me like water in your hands.

baby, it’s halloween.

after a while you went quiet.

no, i’m not afraid to disappear.

you must’ve been looking for me.

i would give you the moon.

i have this dream where i’m screaming underwater.

they killed a fan down by the stadium.

i want to be wrong.

when i think too much about it i can’t breathe.

i can’t sleep and i miss your face.

they strapped me in the gurney, took me off to the infirmary.

i’ll find a new place to be from.

i hate you for what you did.

that makes me feel old.

he got me in the shins, and he got me in the arms.

i’m gonna chase it, i know, i know, i know.

all of our problems? i’m gonna solve 'em.

i’m stupid in love.

yeah, i guess the end is here.

i won’t be home with you tonight.

underneath her whimpering, i could hear the sirens sound.

fell on hard times a year ago.

sometimes i think i’m a killer.

we can be anything.

there is no distraction that can make me disappear.

i dreamt that he drowned.

when he gets older, he might be the one.

she can do anything she wants to.

plus, i’m pretty sure i’d miss you…

either way, we’re not alone.

you don’t have to know that it’s haunted.

you know i hate to be alone.

guess i lied.

wouldn’t know when to stop.

i think when you’re gone, it’s forever.

i’ll be glad that i made it out.

either i’m careless or i wanna get caught.

i hope you kiss my rotten head.

it’s 4 a.m. again.

we found our way out.

he missed my heart.

we have the same face.

hear so many stories of you at the bar…

all the bad dreams that you hide…

he’s half the man and you’re twice as tall.

i gotta go now, i know, i know, i know.

i don’t forgive you.

if i breathe you, will it kill me?

man, i hate this part of texas.

you know i’m never gonna let you have it.

and i changed my mind.

he might be the one.

it’s for the best.

you had to go, i know, i know, i know.

i’m too tired.

tell me what you wanna do to me.

i faked it every time.

you missed my heart.

oh, come on, man!

you were in a band when i was born.

i have everything i wanted.

i’m not gonna go down with my hometown in a tornado.

i don’t believe in that stuff anymore.

jesus christ, i’m so blue all the time.

saw him in the kitchen, hanging up the phone.

i feel something when i see you.

there’s nothing i can do.

i am sick of the chase.

you are somebody’s baby.

i hate your mom.

i got mean.

so long, prison boy!

it’ll be the last time.

i would do anything you want me to.

but right now, it feels good not to stand.

i love a good place to hide in plain sight.

i will try to drown you out.

take a dirty picture, babe.

it’s sad that his baby died.

i’m doing nothing.

hey, why do you sing with an english accent?

i get everything i want.

i look at the sky and i feel nothing.

when you touch down, i’ll be waving.

now i’m too tired to go to sleep.

i feel like i know you?

i hate it when she opens her mouth.

it’s just a matter of time before i’m hearing things.

call me when you land.

would you fuck this and let us fall?

they still got payphones…

you might be dying.

i’m a bad liar.

you wrote me a letter…

i’ve given all my love.

a nightmare on elm street (1984) / scream (1996) / i know what you did last summer (1997)

𝘿𝙀𝘼𝙍 𝙅𝙀𝙎𝙎𝙄𝘾𝘼 𝙍𝙀𝙀𝘿                       ( temporarywiin​ )

𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐒 𝐁𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐊 𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐖𝐈𝐃𝐄 𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐒. "oh. my. god." stunned. completely stunned. "the pink panther isn't a lion?"

                    ❝ babe, it’s in his name. it’s a panther. have you ever seen him with a mane?? ❞

𝘿𝙀𝘼𝙍 𝙈𝙐𝙍𝙍𝘼𝙔 𝘽𝘼𝙐𝙈𝘼𝙉                           ( congregaticn ​)

@greenscrunchy​​ asked: ❝ i don’t even know how to describe it. i’ve never seen anything like it. ❞    ( murray! )

    - from stranger things s4 starters ( x ). 

    “ Of course, you haven’t seen anything like it. It’s–” He had to stop himself from saying something too aggressive like he normally would. The poor girl looked shaken up as it was. And she was a kid. And the last thing he wanted to deal with was a crying teenager. “It doesn’t want to be seen. More importantly, it’s not even supposed to be here. Crazy how that works, huh?” Still, he leaned forward with his hands folded together, obviously intent on listening to everything the blonde had to say. “Give me as much of a description as you can, yeah? Can’t really help if I got nothing to go off of except ‘ never seen anything like it. ’”

he’s helping. he’s helping. talking to her like she’s made of porcelain and would shatter at a moment’s notice if he said the wrong thing, which chrissy previously thought she’d learned to tolerate but apparently had not after, well....coming back from the dead. new chrissy had vastly different preferences, now. but murray is helping, she repeated, and swallowed down all thoughts of clinical insanity and tried to begin someplace concrete.

                    ❝ imagine the biggest spider you’ve ever seen. ❞  nope, still insane. all the indecision between giving a full confession and sounding less like she had a thousand screws rattling loose inside her head made for too much internal competition, too big for her skull. chrissy shook her head almost violently trying to wipe the distraction away.  ❝ a huge spider, but with a head that could almost be human? except it was just wrong enough not to be human. and it didn’t have eight legs. i think it was five....or six. ❞  just the foggiest recollection made her shiver with dread again and curl into herself.  ❝ i thought i might see vecna again...but not this. ❞

𝔻𝔼𝔸ℝ      𝔼𝔻𝔻𝕀𝔼      𝕄𝕌ℕ𝕊𝕆ℕ,                              (hellmartyr​)

𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐀𝐓 𝐀 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐔𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄 𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐍. no sun, no moon — only venomous strands of electrified lifeblood. hours didn’t shift as they should, and the creatures reflected the restlessness of their cruel dimension. loathsome howls haunted the winds in immeasurable rotations. with no natural period of respite, eddie divided his routine into two cycles: get shit done and an intermittent spate of z’s.

      sleep was a treat that rarely went uninterrupted. shrieks from the sky peeled open his eyes and sounds he didn’t recognize stalked the periphery of his tenuous sanctuaries. blood-curdling shadows were a ruthless reminder that nowhere in hell was safe from the devil. munson didn’t dare breathe as he waited for the strange chittering to pass, holding the warlock so tightly his joints cramped.

      eddie never let go of her, even when he did manage to spirit away some sleep. no matter how long the man was out or in what position he awoke, his guitar’s twisted sister never strayed from his hand.

      a rest fast wasn’t the only flagellation he inflicted upon himself. his eyes opened to a sharp pain in his gut. eddie curled into a ball, the warlock twanged as she was crushed into his abdomen.

      the two things a survivor needed most were just as likely to kill him. he didn’t want to remember the last time he ate, and felt sick just thinking about cracking open another ungodly can of something parading itself as edible. but the tight ache could no longer be ignored.

      keeping parallel to the thoroughfares, it was a steady crawl into hawkins proper. the rhythmic crunch of rotten leaves under his sneakers turned to grit as he picked his way over black, pulsating veins that overlapped the butchered segments of asphalt. from there it was a reluctant beeline to the canned goods. nothing in front or too far back, somewhere in the middle where the least amount of tainted air settled. his stomach objected as eddie slipped his not-so-fresh catch into his vest pocket.

      distant thunder and the soft rustle of his gear bumping against his steps set the rhythm of his march to the police station. vines covered the parking lot like pulsating cracks in the concrete. eddie hopscotched towards the back of the building to the spore-covered dumpster. his arms wobbled as he hoisted himself onto the lid. sneakers scrapped the molded brick as he clambered onto the roof.

      on one end there was an access door that led to the ground level. completely useless of course. vines cavorted in the stairwell, bulging into a grotesque neural network of rot as they smothered each other in vacuous greed. with no super powers to speak of, munson abandoned the route, turning his attention instead to the whirlybird. the damn thing looked more like a mushroom, it’s galvanized steel covered in a crust that glistened in the brackish light.

      eddie cracked his fingers and carefully tipped it aside to reveal a crumbling system beneath. he removed his guitar, lowering her first into the insulation before following her down with a jostle. despite the tight fit, eddie had enough room to army crawl through a decadent perfume of interdimensional asbestos and spores.

      the scattered remains of the demobat he killed during his previous visit were putrefied puddles. a ghastly stench interlocked with the moisture in the back of his throat. jesus christ, he could taste it; a pungent sweetness that tested the strength of his stomach. eddie pressed his mouth into his arm, stifling a cough as he dragged himself away as quickly as he dared.

      for the better part of an hour, eddie searched for a way down. it was a grueling process, one he’d been forced to back out of multiple times. the spoiled air was suffocating, forcing him to breath with his mouth open, which in turn made him vulnerable to swallowing something that turned his insides out. that shit was just the cherry on top too. during one attempt, he almost lost consciousness. which put a fear in the man so bad he stayed away for the equivalent of several days. even the allure of a shotgun failed to shake it.

      suddenly, a ray of gloomy light illuminated a small flotilla of dust motes several feet ahead. it took a moment for his eyes to register what they were seeing. never before had eddie made it this far. a feverish zing spread from his heart to the rest of his body as the young man rustled closer. a rutted cleft in the ceiling, not big enough for him to squeeze through without a little help.

      he maneuvered the teeth of his spearhead and sawed at the disintegrating plaster. as pieces loosened, eddie broke them off by hand and piled them on the side. by the time he was finished, sweat dripped from the strands of hair sticking out from his bandana. his head felt like it was about to tailspin, but an unwitting smile kept the young man steady as he looked down into the police station.

      now there’s a sight a munson never thought he’d be thrilled to see.

      first came the warlock, descending like a fallen angel from a cloud of insulation foam. then her guitarist. he didn’t descend so much as topple when his fingers slipped. sneakers squeaked as eddie landed awkwardly. he teetered on the edge of his balance, but caught himself before he went sideways straight into a cluster of tendrils.

      sour saliva coated the dry rush of his throat. eddie spared himself a moment of relief before he fished the can out of his pocket. with a scoff, he spotted the cursive c poking out from a film of sludge.

      ❝ so, we meet again. ❞ munson remarked dryly as he cleaned the top off on his sleeve. he angled his spear and carefully punctured the can, rotating slowly to preserve the precious contents. anticipation coated his dry mouth in a harsh brine as he precociously caught the serrated edge of the lid with his thumb. eddie hissed, jerking his thumb back as a bead of blood formed on the tip. quickly, he stuck the wound in his mouth. immediate revulsion at the taste of the grime on his skin, but stifling a gag-reflex was preferable to letting bloodscent loose in the air.

      frustration surged up from the depths of all he’d been through. pain that refused to dissipate from the infection spreading on his abdomen, the hopeless determination to keep going without a chance of actually seeing his uncle again. eddie never thought it possible to miss hawkins like this, but seeing his hometown mutilated by the evil of a child-murdering madman …

      eddie crumbled.

      folding towards his knees, eddie’s shoulders quivered in tandem with the tears turning the oil on his cheeks sticky. there was no desire to give up, but the will to keep going was leaking onto his tongue. an end, he just wanted an end. to go back in time to a moment full of copper, adrenaline bleeding out as vision turned a dark red.

      just die. don’t open your eyes. there’s no point. there’s no fucking point.

      a dangerous sob was stopped by the digit still enclosed between his teeth. eddie sank closer to the ground, surrendering to the blue devils that would pin him there till the young man finally wasted away.

                              hello?

      anguish turned deathly still as his attention snapped like a viper towards the door. the burning of a final heartbreak extinguished into something silent, something cold. eddie rose, the ominous glitter in his eyes glowing brighter as the voice of chrissy cunningham begged for the help she never got.

      a shuddering sigh, ❝ that’s sick, man. even for you. ❞

      the young man swallowed the lump in his throat as he set aside the can and placed his warlock on one of the desks. his sights strayed from the door. no, his fixation steeled into a tranquil fury as the redeemer readied his spear. there was no feeling in his legs as he approached the entrance, futile pounding reverberating from the other side.

      seemed like the universe was finally showing a bit of pity. a worthy way out; all he had to do was unlock the door and kill whatever shit-eating beast was making a mockery of a girl who deserved more than her fair share of peace.

      he fished out the homebrew lock kit he’d fashioned from his jeans and picked the door. his eagerness steeled, munson kept his actions deliberate as to not alert whatever the hell was waiting for him. he had one chance to get the drop so that no matter what it did to him, eddie munson wasn’t leaving this hellhole alone.

      click. eddie’s heart rate spiked as the lock gave. in one swift motion, he raised up his spear and threw open the door to see —

                  ❝ CHRIST — Y — CHRISSY ? ❞

                           ❝ please let someone be here, plea  —  ❞  and as if loftily answering a prayer, the door flew open from the inside. 

but who waited beyond the knob wasn’t any kind of anticipated, if unimaginable, underworld monstrosity. nor was it a badge-toting figurehead of hawkins safety and security. it was a ghoul with the face of a terrified and bloody eddie munson, clutching a makeshift spear in one hand and the doorknob in the other. truly, he looked so shocked that for a moment chrissy almost believed he was real. 

the once-cheerleader automatically let out a strangled bleat in fright, but all the air was stolen from the sound halfway through. her shock stumbled down a cliff of surprise rolling all the way down into a pit of.....sadness. this vision of eddie looked so like the world they were in —  grungy, dusty, slathered in rot. so thoroughly mangled that there was no chance he could be alive. he could be nothing other than the manifestation of this place’s manic feeding frenzy on souls and bodies alike. ....which implied he’d entered their now shared purgatory while still alive only to fall and be consumed by the acidic hatred that had conjured this place however long ago. 

oh. 

here stood her confirmation that this barren slice of the universe was not a second chance at whatever passed as living here in this poor excuse for “hawkins", inverted. genuine existence was only mimicked. she was dead. and so was he. like a gunshot, chrissy’s chest was riven by the sensation of missing him. could you miss someone you barely knew? someone who wasn’t there? 

yet — almost-eddie said her name. as if her appearance was the least likely sight in hell he could muster up. she didn’t blame this shade his stupefaction, at least not for too long. this mutated world of darkness trapping them could very well birth all manner of hallucinations, could be dangling false hope in front of her at any moment. manufactured, cruel fictions to match the cruel imitation of life chrissy had lived thus far and a crueler imprint of the town she’d called home.

what was left of her heart sank quickly to the ichor-slicked soles of her sneakers. he sounded so much like eddie, this ghost. or.....she thought. guilt assuaged slumping shoulders as she realized how little she really knew of this young man from whom humble hawkins seemed to expect the worst. and he’d been so kind to her up until the moment her memories stopped. [ did you find it? eddie? ] generous with his time and his humour [ you’re not what i thought you’d be like ], clever with his attempts at making her smile. [ how could i forget?! ] a mere few hours after meeting him (again) was enough time gone to know he’d not lay a harming finger on her if he drove her home. ready to help her despite his confusion. 

oh, living and breathing chrissy, so starved of understanding had she been that the moment eddie munson stared through her like glass, she felt secure for the first time in... no. that was a pointless enumeration. she’d be ashamed of herself if she went any further. 

                          ❝ eddie? ❞  even to her own ears she sounded devastated. wrecked. what misfortune had laced the atoms of his essence together into so ripped and chewed a shadow of sentience? nothing that could comfort her in the presence of his ghost, certainly.  ❝ what happened to you? you’re.... a mess.  ❞

chapped lips closed, then opened, then closed again, rendered suddenly unable to string any kind of sufficient thought into speech. all she could feel was sorry. everything she knew was sorry. sorry to see him in such a place, sorry to be haunting the haunted, sorry to have possibly done anything that could drag him into this tartarus pit, this realm of refuse. he’d paid dearly for every act of heroism, judging by the looks of things. a shining, blood-soaked knight in shredded ribbons, complete with a sword.

either all her tears had evaporated or weariness sapped every reaction in extreme from her system. a limp swallow clenched her throat shut long enough to pause all thought of caution and chrissy stepped forward. her bruised arms lifted, powered by winces of pain, to wrap gingerly around this not-quite-eddie’s torso. no breath to reconsider, just the driving force of mourning a life half lived and a thousand chances missed. in cheer, missing by inches brought injurious disaster. what brought them here was miles.

                         ❝ it’s alright if you’re not real, ❞  chrissy mumbled into ruined fabric, utterly depressed. anything above a whisper scraped murder across her vocal cords. her fingers dug into a bony back until spinal ridging uncomfortably collided with the juts of her knuckles. the skeletal pattern was grounding. so frustrating in its physicality. he still faintly smelled like leather and hawkins humidity. you didn’t deserve this. you didn’t deserve anything you were getting. i’m sorry i thought so badly of you. if i could go back i’d make up my own mind about you and never listen to anyone tell me what to believe again. how tantalizing a thought, to admit as much to the real eddie. but his ghost was no replacement. admission to a phantom was like begging a stone for help. like pounding on the door of an abandoned police station that might never have held any remote promise of safety. absolute miserable insanity. still, there was a small childish comfort in embracing a figure that could only be meant to fade from her gaze the moment she gripped it too fiercely in a bid to regain her balance.  ❝ i'm just glad to see you. ❞

so chrissy let go.  easier, when the battle was already lost. 

                        ❝ this place is.....is twisted. i don’t know why it made you look like this. it’s messing with my head, eddie. but i can’t be losing my mind anymore if i’m dead, can i? ❞

“being kind takes zero effort” Lies.

Being kind takes enormous effort. Being kind means humbling yourself- it means saying no to your pride- it means forgiving someone instantly- it means putting someone convenience over your own for some time- it means acting as if the universe doesn’t revolve around you. Being kind is hard. Being kind is not butterflies and sickly sweet, half-witted compliments. It’s work. It’s serving others. It’s being silent when you don’t want to. It’s being honest. It’s being gentle. It’s being true even if the other person disagrees. Being kind is one of the hardest things a person can do and we need more of it.

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!!