Reblog This To Give The Person You Reblogged This From A Gold Star Because They’ve Been Stellar Today

𝔻𝔼𝔸ℝ      𝔼𝔻𝔻𝕀𝔼      𝕄𝕌ℕ𝕊𝕆ℕ,                               (hellmartyr​)

𝐒𝐀𝐋𝐕𝐎𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐆𝐎𝐁𝐋𝐈𝐍 𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐍 bombarded the theater with rapacious glee. metallic barks followed gluttonous drops as they sniffed out every crevice, every surface, like foxhounds in pursuit of their eponymous prey. the accompanying winds were equally ruthless, tearing at the woods that outlined campus. roots moaned in an uncanny human chorus as they clung to clods of drowned soil. barks of thunder followed claws of fearsome light, incensed by the trees’ refusal to surrender their centennial roosts.

      eddie munson had given up on music as he labored by candlelight. layers of rebar and concrete couldn’t placate the stormy quarrel, and each time the most satisfying part of a song was about to assail his eardrums — a peal of thunder injected a riff of its own. thus he surrendered to the company of silence, interrupted only by the echoes of his own activity and nature’s bitchy roiling.

      but at least tonight’s premier bullshit worked in his favor. normally goblin’s three hundred sixty days of downpour lacked an inspiring ambiance for campaigns set in sandy tombs of reanimated kings or crystalline caverns carved deep within an ivory castle. this semester was different; four months of adventuring ( and a previous summer of planning ) brought the members of the hellfire club to a gothic crypt and its restless denizens. here, in the belly of a diabolical mansion torn between the material plane and an eldritch parallel, heroes would face their most dastardly foes yet while negating the sadistic twists their dungeon master had slithering in his sleeves.

      the wild-haired eccentric was always one to set a stage for the finale. what started as simple seasoning grew more and more elaborate over the past six years. eddie was determined to make this night of zenith revelry one to remember. his swan song before graduation. a didactic legacy for all dms who thought themselves worthy of his draconian lineage.

      last year’s after-halloween sales had given the youngest munson an idea. he raided what was left on the clean-picked shelves of pop-up shops and every discount store in the county. over the next several months, added to his growing stockpile via regular visits to every bargain dealer within reach of his cough-and-hack brick of a van.

      his uncle’s trailer became a slaughterhouse of creativity. cheap curtains shredded and stained by hand hung from the ceiling while sheets and shirts lingering long past their natural lifespans were cut-up on the floor. testing anything at school was too risky; the hellfire club was made up of a clever bunch. so, his uncle wayne was forced to endure several months of embellishing chaos as eddie turned their small home into a dollar store’s rendition of a haunted house.

      by mid-january the bulk of the backdrop was done. eddie packed it into two old moving boxes and stored them in the corner of his room where it silently teased him till the momentous day. the time between was spent on finishing touches: spray painted candelabras, disposable wine glasses transformed into jewel encrusted goblets, plastic skulls smeared in coffee and dirt, and a cathedrals worth of white candles.

      now those latter bastards had been his bane. eddie pre-burned half of the lot while he melted down the rest to be reforged in various shades of black and red. he trawled candle making books for how to do it, but fell back on good ol’ trial and error since he lacked just about every damn thing the instructions called for. but, after coating the trailer’s kitchenette in a waxy film for two weeks, the young man succeeded and gave rise to one of his favorite decorations: a skull with a black cherry candle burning through its head, twin flows oozing out its sockets like offerings of an unholy sacrament.

      wayne was visibly relieved when his nephew loaded everything into his van last night, yet still commented on how neat it was all going to be once eddie set it up. months of work, now lambasted all over the theater, looking just how its creator envisioned it … or at least a realistic interpretation. and in all fairness, the decorum looked a little less — thrifty — in the moody lighting.

      reaping what he’d sown at last, eddie glanced at his watch. done and with plenty of time to spare. if the storm kept up its scathing temper ( knowing goblin’s visceral hatred for all things breathing, it would ), then tonight, hellfire was really going to taste the truth of their namesake —

      eddie’s head jerked up as the weathered doors keened open. a pillar of dim light cut through the pitch of the theater’s innards. an elongated shadow stretched over the foyer as munson dropped low.

      shit — why were the guys so early? were they planning something too?

      fist balled tightly, teeth grinding his lower lip in a row of frustration. careful to avoid any unwanted sneaker squeaks, eddie crept around the table into recesses so opaque the candles’ sultry lighting wouldn’t dare breach it. if the boys hoped to get the drop on him, there was a price to pay for attempting to outplay the master.

@greenscrunchy, this is for you

goblin high school was haunted. at least, it was supposed to be.

there’s no proof besides stories, the customary churning water wheel of rumours that flowed ceaselessly through cracked linoleum-lined hallways. arteries from a heart in which children were flung loose, but goblin was so famous for its tall tales that every one of them might as well have been set in stone. perfectly preserved history. so wild they had to be true. repeated and repeated and repeated, religiously cradled in the minds of the peculiarly suburban city dwellers of goblin. when a small city operated like an even smaller town, there had to be something keeping everyone spinning.

of course it would be the ghosts.

among whom were the phantoms of the senior class royal couple that tracked chrissy cunningham down the corridor leading away from the basketball court, floating just behind the squeak of her sneakers all the way from the wood-paneled gymnasium to wherever it is she was trying to escape. a foxhole she needed to decide upon quickly before she ended up in a circle right where she started from, the place she wanted to be the least. 

at her back, raucous cheers rumbled still from throats packing the gym. goblin’s marauders had won the basketball championship game, thoroughly shocking all onlookers to the point of pure frenzy. even chrissy let the momentary thrill consume her, shaking wild pompoms along with her entire stunned squad. all it took was a foul, a timeout, and a benchwarmer launching his perfectly timed gamble into the air for a nail-biting three pointer no doubt already being carved in the annals of goblin legend. the basketball had swished through the net against a backdrop of a final buzzer. thunder to rival even goblin skies’ best and boomiest rattled the foundations of the gym until even the buried-upright dead in the graveyard miles away could feel so many joyous vibrations. 

an unlikely win from an unlikely source. no one present would ever forget it and wouldn’t keep it to themselves. it would make the goblin post before sunday. 

enthusiasm befitting of a true sportswoman buoyed chrissy until before the amoebic goblin high crowd could even begin to think of oozing off the court and into the downpour outside, washing slurries of the away team with them. an indoor tennis match would follow not long behind, somewhat of a downturn in excitement after such a triumph for the basketball team. but around here, the rain made the rules. initial celebrations could not last forever - and chrissy had to get out before anyone tried to pull her attention. particularly, especially, jason. his prior pep rally stunt was the only one of its kind she could bear after a week of heightened pda; all for show to hammer home goblin’s worth as the next district champions. goblin had the team, and the team captain had the girl. (until teenage throngs abandoned the couple for more riveting objects of affection and jason melted into the shadows to wrap his arm around lizzie miller.)

meanwhile chrissy ticked down seconds until she could bolt from the room he was in, with the additional bonus that no one should be able to ascertain the source of her disquiet lest her performance be revealed as just that: a performance and a sham.

the hallway ahead stretched longer and longer, calling to mind a frustratingly pliable piece of taffy on a summer afternoon. it kept going, and going, and going. a monstrous unfairness when all chrissy wanted was a simple getaway, tucked out of sight from swaths of paper banners drowned in every drop of purple and green paint goblin high school could wrap their wet, wrinkled hands around.

nothing but purple and green. chrissy hated purple and green. purple and green together. the fluttering rustle of pompoms clutched white-knuckled in both hands mocked her, their vomitous, plastine shine reflecting goblin high’s storm-lit passages. separated, she didn’t mind the colors too terribly much. even a rare violent in the grass was more pleasant. but in school all bets at their joint attractiveness were off. 

a metallic clang punctuated the now distant rumble of sports fanatics and thunder combined. chrissy stuffed her pompoms into the depths of her locker, out of sight at last, exchanging them for the soft pink corduroy of her backpack. its weight comfortably settled the pumping desire to take flight far, far away although not enough to quell her urge to hide. 

somewhere. there had to be somewhere quiet and dark she could wait out her tides of discontentment apart from the ghosts. maybe.....

there was one possibility. enough of one that chrissy’s feet took off again, chasing down the faint illusion of privacy. down the main hallway to the right, past the a.v. closet, past the principle’s office and the coachs’ offices, veering to the left toward the science lab, the school nurse, and just beyond....the theater. perfect. 

like a blessing from heaven, the enormous doors hung open juuuuust a sliver. 

in a flash chrissy bolted for the alluring dark ribbon of silent freedom. mere moments later she’d dragged one door open enough to slip inside. the answering darkness was almost dizzyingly relaxing in comparison to the shadowy high school corridors now echoing signs of life; students were emerging from the gym and she’d been just in time to miss all the action.

her forehead met the cool surface of the doors as she shut them decisively. heavy exhales gusted against the metal until she could wrangle her heartbeat back in check. only for it to halt completely when a rustle split the curtain of silence.

solitude rendered itself an illusion. 

trepidation tempered a one-eighty pivot to investigate the source and weighed down painfully on her heel. a strange terror built as her peripherals picked up on a flickering light that multiplied with each centimeter exposed. more, more, and  —

the full revelation of why lay behind resulted in startled howl.

as a cheerleader, most would imagine chrissy’s voice capable of projecting powerfully across any open space. reality was far less impressive. instead of a mighty, rousing shout, all chrissy was capable of was a high pitched, elongated squeak. nevertheless, it communicated the same thing.

                                            ❝ OHMYGOD! ❞

spread across the room was a rippling tableau of yawning skulls dripping in waxy blood, goblets filling unsettlingly with dark liquid, and scattered glimmers of who knew what all over a rich tablecloth in pitch hues. everywhere the dull, ghostly white of bone and insidious sparkle of metal sent candlelight ricocheting across the theater. among the instruments of death, almost randomly but not quite, were placed multiple kinds of dice and miniature figures looking frozen from battle.

not even the zombified goblin police could compare to the sensation of wrongness filling the room. whatever she’d stumbled upon, it couldn’t possibly be good. 

Led Zeppelin – Going To California

𝔻𝔼𝔸ℝ   𝔻𝔸𝔽𝔽𝕆𝔻𝕀𝕃   𝔽𝕆𝔾𝔼𝕃,                                 (fogels​)

*      𝘩𝑜𝑤  𝑔𝑟𝑒𝑒𝑛  𝑤𝑎𝑠  𝑚𝑦  𝑣𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑒𝑦    /        @greenscrunchy​​   ,                  —                     𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾   𝖺𝗋𝖾   𝗍𝗐𝗈   𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾𝗌   𝗍𝗈   𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒   𝖿𝖺𝖼𝖾  .      

𝚂𝙷𝙴'𝚂  𝙳𝙾𝙸𝙽𝙶  𝚃𝙷𝙴  𝙱𝙴𝚂𝚃  𝚂𝙷𝙴  𝙲𝙰𝙽  𝚃𝙾  𝙼𝙰𝙺𝙴  𝚃𝙷𝙸𝚂  𝙵𝙴𝙴𝙻  𝙻𝙴𝚂𝚂  𝙻𝙸𝙺𝙴  𝙱𝙰𝙱𝚈𝚂𝙸𝚃𝚃𝙸𝙽𝙶  .     shackled  to  a  stranger  with  a  walkman  threateningly  waved  in  your  face  should  you  blink  a  tad  too  long  .   daffodil  knows  she  wouldn’t  be  chrissy’s  first  choice to  spend  time  with  .

or  maybe  she  would  be  .   it  turns  out  the  little  high - flyer  has  a  precious smile  and  a  laugh  like  lemon  squares  :   good  .  

❝         𝑦𝑒𝑎𝘩  ,   𝑎𝑛𝑑  𝑏𝑜𝑡𝘩  𝑜𝑓  𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑠  𝑎𝑟𝑒  𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑡𝑡𝑦  ,         ❞        daffodil  smiles  at  her  ,   nodding  towards  the  strawberry  ice  cream  generously portioned  into  chrissy’s  bowl  .          ❝         ah  !   come  on  ,   that’s  part  of  the  healing  process ,  too  .         ❞

the uneasy twisting in chrissy’s stomach has made its way to her hands, where chipped varnish-laden nails dig into soft vinyl daisy print. a kind of tablecloth pattern ripped from a field swaying in the wind somewhere. so bright and cheerful to match the pink ice cream gradually beginning a melting slump front of her face. this doesn’t feel fair. (she’s thought that once or twice this week and wondered why every time. what did she do to deserve this? what didn’t she do?)

                                    ❝ you’re being very patient with me. you don’t have to be. ❞  it’s natural as anything to hedge. easy to distract from the swimming bowl of temptation, shiny spoon lure sticking out and chrissy is a little fish who’d like to know what’s truly good for her for once. daf is kind but not easily misled; there might not be any getting out of this one. best to dive in and think about consequences later. …..maybe she’ll think more sharply with a little sugar in her system. there’s dairy too – so, protein! yes, yes, if she thinks hard enough she can write off all the sweet danger the ice cream is masking under strawberry swirls. 

then again, hasn’t her entire rubric for danger been rewritten over the past several days? you know what? screw it. for now. what’s good for her might actually be to take the kindness daf is offering so freely, imposition or not. 

                                     ❝ i’d like if it was that way, though i’m not sure wanting to snap when i’m nervous is very pretty. ❞  speaking around a spoon is absolutely abhorrent manners, she knows, but talking helps distract from the guilt. one spoonful at a time.  ❝ you seem to be taking the whole….monster thing in stride. that’s amazing. ❞

𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓  𝟓 (𝐨𝐫 𝟏𝟎)  𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐒  𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓  𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐑𝐄  𝐘𝐎𝐔  𝐓𝐎  𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄  𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑  𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄. 

1.    mothers talk   ∕   tears for fears 2.    more than a feeling   ∕   cinematic pop ft. cosette smith (originally by boston) 3.    victoria’s secret   ∕   jax 4.    you picked off all the polish   ∕   UTAH 5.    kids + teens   ∕   kyle dixon & michael stein 6.    fields of coral   ∕   vangelis 7.    gloria   ∕   laura branigan 8.    here i go again   ∕   whitesnake 9.    i cheat the hangman   ∕   the doobie brothers 10.  the end  ∕   the beatles

&  𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓  𝟓  𝐐𝐔𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒  𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓  𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐑𝐄  𝐘𝐎𝐔  𝐓𝐎  𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄  𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑  𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄.

1.     “all parents damage their children. it cannot be helped. youth, like pristine glass, absorbs the prints of its handlers. some parents smudge, others crack, a few shatter childhoods completely into jagged little pieces, beyond repair.”   —   mitch albom, the five people you meet in heaven

2.     “i must get my soul back from you; i am killing my flesh without it.”  /  “the silence depressed me. it wasn’t the silence of silence. it was my own silence.”   —   sylvia plath, the unabridged journals / the bell jar 

3.     “i have a strict policy that no one cries alone in my presence.”   —   dolly parton

4.     “when did your childhood end? how badly did you get hurt, when you did, when you were this little, when you were this wee little hurtable thing, nothing but big eyes, a heart, a few hundred words? isn't it wonderful how we never recover?"   —   will eno, thom pain (based on nothing)

5.      In my beginning is my end. In succession Houses rise and fall, crumble, are extended, Are removed, destroyed, restored, or in their place Is an open field, or a factory, or a by-pass. Old stone to new building, old timber to new fires, Old fires to ashes, and ashes to the earth  [...]  I said to my soul, be still, and let the dark come upon you Which shall be the darkness of God. As, in a theatre, The lights are extinguished, for the scene to be changed With a hollow rumble of wings, with a movement of darkness on darkness, And we know that the hills and the trees, the distant panorama And the bold imposing facade are all being rolled away— [...] I said to my soul, be still, and wait without hope For hope would be hope for the wrong thing; wait without love, For love would be love of the wrong thing; there is yet faith But the faith and the love and the hope are all in the waiting. [...] So the darkness shall be the light, and the stillness the dancing. Whisper of running streams, and winter lightning. The wild thyme unseen and the wild strawberry, The laughter in the garden, echoed ecstasy Not lost, but requiring, pointing to the agony Of death and birth.                                     You say I am repeating Something I have said before. I shall say it again.    —   t.s. eliot, east coker

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲:  @quietresistance  then  @hellmartyr​  xD  love you both dearly

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠: @darkestshadeofgrey or @athousandmilesandcounting or BOTH  /  @manaborn  /  @starsinshadows (steve)  /  @firelightfables (billy or eddie)  /  @knowseverythingaboutyou  /  @vihilum ( tommy or nance! )  /  @dvarapala  /  @shadowedvales  /  @sihnon  /  @sawbcnes  /  @asteritm  /  @masterwcrk  /  @hostica  /  @katesgotabow  /  @wheeling  /  @cleryc  /  @wihlliams  /  @flaeyed​  /  @telekinsis or @barhd  /  @alwaysrevvedup  /  @flayerlinked  /  @partysheart or @rebelcliche  /  @mikewheelertm  /  @temporarywiin (jessica or ashton!)  /  @trashm0uth  /  @finalhorrors​ (stephanie or eddie k.)

“I used to dislike being sensitive. I thought it made me weak. But take away that single trait, and you take away the very essence of who I am. You take away my conscience, my ability to empathize, my intuition, my creativity, my deep appreciation for the little things, my vivid inner life, my deep awareness of others’ pain, and my passion for it all.”

— Unknown

𝘿𝙀𝘼𝙍 𝘽𝙍𝙄𝘿𝙂𝙀𝙏 𝘾𝙇𝘼𝙍𝙆𝙀                           ( @tempesttragedy​ )

@greenscrunchy gets Bridget from this starter call!

“Hey!” Bridget jogs through the downpour, shielded from rain droplets by a near-pristine condition umbrella. It certainly beats being without, but as she approaches Chrissy under the small ledge from which rain dripped, her arm extends, offering protection from the elements.  “Do you need a ride out of here? Or an umbrella escort, at least?” 

she’s somewhere else again. not the real world, or the “upside down” as chrissy now knows to call it, but another place. still red, just deeper. a void with walls like a crack in space-time itself, lit constantly with formless lightning strikes that cracked the sky apart more viciously than nature could dream of. the ground seemed to undulate beneath her shoes no matter where she tread. worse, it seemed to rise to meet her, swirling into tentacle shapes meant to trap her and  —

a shout loud enough to be from nowhere except reality pulls her from the gridlock into a land of lightning and thunder and wet. another thunderclap follows the voice and startles chrissy nearly off the curb. today really was the day she’d decided to take a walk from home to town and back without bringing her raincoat. 

                           ❝ oh, thank you!  ❞  it’s quick work to duck under the offered shelter where the rewards are immediate. rain still splashes her shoes but to have the rest of her out of the deluge is ideal. the generous umbrella bearer is a girl who looks just a little older than chrissy, with a face that isn’t a strangers yet isn’t so familiar to have a name attached.  ❝ what a great day to take a walk! i don’t live that far off main street, but maybe the rain will slow down soon. ❞  

Strength is light ☀

just wanted to give a shoutout to @greenscrunchy! the mun is super nice and has made me feel so welcome in this fandom and they’re a pleasure to see on my dash! their chrissy is great and they deserve to know it! <3