#ripcreel

[scarednotscary]

Plotted starter for @ripcreel

☾⋆ ‒‒‒‒‒ Camera. Check. Spare lenses. Check. Portable lighting. Check. Tripod. Check. With notebook in hand and pen used as a pointer, Chrissy stood at the trunk of her car and double-checked she had everything she would need for this shoot. It was funny, normally she winged stuff like this, after all, he wanted more 'candid' shots instead of posed, but she figured it was best to bring everything in case his mind had changed or he wanted a mixture of both-- he did have his social media presence to think about.

Checking her phone for the time, and offering a soft 'shoot' under her breath, Chrissy closed the trunk and hurried to the drivers side, fumbling with her keys in a bid to get them in the ignition. Why was she so nervous about this? It was just Henry. Well, that was exactly it. It was just Henry. No Eddie, or Gareth or Jeff... this was one on one and considering what the theme of the shoot was... well, it felt more intimate somehow.

Get a grip, Chrissy. You're supposed to be a professional!

It took fifteen minutes for her to drive over to his place, park up and start unloading everything she'd just loaded up not twenty minutes ago. At some point, she was either going to need a bigger car or fork out for a studio that she could dress. Baby steps, though, she wasn't a big name just yet. The most expensive items were pulled out first before she pulled out the lighting and the fold away reflector, shutting the trunk again and hobbling her way to the front door. She just about managed to ring the bell with the use of her elbow without dropping anything, impressive considering she could be a little on the clumsy side.

A few moments pass before the door is answered, an inward sigh of relief had, truly, she wasn't sure how much longer she could hold onto everything. ❝ Hey, hey! ❞ What kind of greeting was that? ❝ So, um... I'm gonna drop everything any second, just as an FYI. ❞

[wheelxr]

…𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝓈𝑜𝓂𝑒𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒶𝒷𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒻𝑒𝑒𝓁𝓈 𝑜𝓀𝒶𝓎. ©

[ripcvnningham]

I just want to take a moment to talk about someone very special to me. You've seen them on the dash, have likely interacted with them a bunch, (who wouldn't want to? They're fucking incredibly talented!) and even commented on their insanely well thought out headcanons. But I want to talk about what an amazing person Killjoy ( @painmon / @ripdayze / @ripcreel ) is. Now, of course I can only speak for myself, but when I tell you that they have been nothing but a wealth of support and understanding this past year for me, I mean it! I've mentioned before I've got some health issues, and the most pressing one was dealt with via major surgery last year. Killjoy supported me through all of that, listened to me while I told them how scared I was feeling, celebrated in my joy when it was all over and I had the all clear. They were there for me, no questions asked and certainly not expecting anything in return.

Recently, I've been going through something else, something that is the root cause for a lot of my mental health problems. This situation has been highly triggering for me, and as a result... I haven't been my best self. Again, Killjoy has been there for me and shown me nothing but patience and understanding. I truly am so very lucky to have them in my life, they are a constant in my day-to-day now, and it's strange if we don't talk. When I say that I love them, I don't mean it as some throw away term of endearment, I mean it as in I literally cannot imagine my life without them being in it. They are my best friend, the person I trust and confide in more than anyone else in my life, they are my platonic soul mate. I mean all of these things from the bottom of my heart, and it's a big deal because I don't trust or let people in very easily, and yet here I am, so very, very glad that I let them in.

I know this is random, I know not many people will read this, and that's okay. I just wanted to get this out, to say these things as I really do carry the sentiments with me on the daily.

I will cherish you always, Killjoy! ♡

[halematthew]

@ripcreel gets a plotted starter.

𝐅𝐞𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐣𝐨𝐲 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐜𝐜𝐞𝐞𝐝 — 𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐞𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐬𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐬.

As the popularity of Corroded Coffin soared, so too did Matthew's elation. Henry Creel has always been an exceptionally talented individual; to finally see the young man receive a mere fraction of the success he deserves has been nothing short of wonderful. 

( And though Corroded Coffin's music isn't Matthew's usual indulgence, each and every track released is listened to with incandescent pride. )

❝ It's good to see you — really. Please, come in. ❞

Henry's surprise visit is most-welcome, the sight of the other already prompting a warm, gracious smile. While Matthew steps aside to let the other in, the book he'd been reading is hastily shut and stowed away. ❝ I have coffee, tea, soda, water...which would you prefer? ❞ He's nothing if not polite, a kettle started for his own cup of tea. ❝ Though I suppose, ❞ he says, gesturing towards the cupboard with several types of tea to choose from, ❝ I should be asking you for some kind of autograph, hm? You boys have made quite the splash as of late, haven't you? I'd love for you to tell me all about it. ❞

[prettydeadgone]

               “First time at the circus?”

POST SURGERY STARTER CALL. / @ripcreel

[wheelxr]

❛ he's not what he seems ❜ ;; for my beloved @ripcreel ♥.

[scarednotscary]

@ripcreel bestowed: He's absolutely enthralled by touchscreens. If she takes a look in his room, she'll see him sat on the end of his bed with a tablet in hand. On it is Spotify, hooked up to one of Henry's speakers by default— and one of TELEPATHETIC'S songs keep stopping and starting because he keeps hitting the play button over and over. He understands why the song isn't playing consistently; he's just far more interested in having the power to make it start and stop with nary a touch.

☾⋆ ‒‒‒‒‒ Admittedly? This has taken some getting used to, and if she's being entirely honest with herself? Well, her head isn't completely wrapped around it, but she's getting there, learning to be less surprised by the sight of him, even as he's perched on the edge of his bed. They're exact copies of one another, and yet she's learning these subtle differences between them, not physical, not yet anyway, it's much too soon for all of that, but little quirks that are uniquely their own.

The door to his bedroom is open, and yet she gives it a polite knock, once, then twice, though something tells her he was aware of her before she even entered the house. She likes to check on him, likes to make sure he's okay and that he's adjusting to his new circumstances, that, and she's just worried about him. Worried he might now be coping with all the new sensations that have been thrust upon him.

❝ Hey there, One.~ ❞

Chrissy steps inside his room and immediately recognises the song he's playing, even if she's only catching it a few seconds at a time. ❝ Still playing around with that tablet, huh? ❞ It had belonged to Henry, but they figured he might find it useful to have it, or at least find it entertaining. Apparently, it was the latter.

Perching herself on the edge of the bed, she smiles at him as she pulls a carefully wrapped foot-long sandwich from her bag, his current favourite, and hands it to him.

❝ Ummm... what are you doing? You know you can just let it play, right? ❞

[scarednotscary]

Plotted starter for @ripcreel

☾⋆ ‒‒‒‒‒ The little clock on her beside table read 01:45am, and it wasn't the first time she had been sat in the dark at this hour in as many weeks, but it was going to be the last. It's one of those snap decisions a person makes in the middle of the night, the kind that changes a persons life. Whether hers would change for the better remained to be seen, but she knew if she stayed that things would only get worse. Much, much worse.

Despite how sore and bruised she felt, Chrissy quickly, and quietly, stuffed as much as she could into a duffel bag that she'd used throughout her high school career when she went to away games to support her home team. There was no time to fold anything, that would take much too long and if she paused long enough to fold she could very well talk herself out of this. Before the bag was zipped, she grabbed her diary and the box she'd hidden with it. Cash had been stored inside, not a lot, granted, but enough to get her as far away as she possibly could. With one last look given to her room, she tip toed out of the house, only breaking into a run when she had finally made it half-way down the street.

Chrissy didn't remember when she had stopped running or how she'd even ended up at the bus station that was across town. One thing she knew she was grateful for was that the ticket booth was one of the electronic ones, it looked new, no older than a couple of years at most. Good, she didn't have to speak to anyone, didn't have to worry about someone recognising her-- thanks to the local paper, she was something of a well known face in town now. With her destination punched in, tickets printed and paid for, she only had to wait another hour or so before the bus would arrive; thankfully, it came earlier.

Her destination was reached by eight the next morning, taking the coach meant going the long way and stopping at every stop, not that she cared. First on the to-do list was making sure she left her phone on the bus, that way she couldn't be tracked so easily, second was purchasing a burner phone. After that? Well, she had to try and remember the name of a certain restaurant and then find it.

Two things she learned on her first day in Chicago: the city was huge and confusing, and it took much, much longer to find anything. By the time she'd found the place she'd been looking for, it was dark and she was more than a little exhausted. Thankfully she'd missed the dinner rush and the place was quiet. As soon as she walked in, a young, dark haired male approached, asking if she wanted a table. A shake of her head. Instead she asked for someone, someone that might work here. A nod was offered and a quiet, 'one moment please', and the young guy was off.

It felt like forever, but soon the one person she'd ever truly felt safe with came into view. He looked different, didn't look so... tense, so wound tight. He looked--

❝ Hey, Henry... you look good. ❞