𝔻𝔼𝔸ℝ   𝔻𝔸𝔽𝔽𝕆𝔻𝕀𝕃   𝔽𝕆𝔾𝔼𝕃,               

i’m the opposite of the grinch. i’m the binch. my heart is two sizes too BIG

💭 + knitwear

𝓗𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓬𝓪𝓷𝓸𝓷𝓼 — send 💭 + a topic to receive a headcanon about said topic

no tweed or wool. out, get them OUT. excuses can be made for wool blends.

there is a reason for this, though: her mother poured her into those abominable twin sets that were thick and scratchy and itchy and hot so many saturdays and sundays of her childhood that chrissy having to look at them at any point again would be too soon. she felt like she was dying in them. like a tiny little business woman just missing a patent leather purse and a hat on her way to an interview at nine years old. 

however, despite not often being very cold, chrissy is a big fan of cable knit and rib knit, the former for sweaters and the latter for shirts. they’re quite cozy and warm without feeling stifling. forgiving of body shape for the most part. fleece is the same way, especially for light jackets. 

she’s got simple taste. flat, smooth, and soft textures are her go-to, so you’ll sooner see her wearing corduroy pants than jeans most days. on fun days big, loose-knit and fluffy layers are what she likes to wrap up in, so as much as she considers her cheer skirt her enemy, the cheer top and cardigan are remarkably pleasant to wear. while she’s not exactly styling herself in oversized clothing there are a lot of loose and flowy elements she prefers. those fits are her go-tos and what she feels the most comfortable in. 

𝘿𝙀𝘼𝙍 𝙀𝘿𝘿𝙄𝙀 𝙈𝙐𝙉𝙎𝙊𝙉                           ( alwaysrevvedup​ )

Fairytale? Abrupt, airy laughter escaped him, and hands burrowed themselves further into his pockets. Well—at least she hadn’t laughed. Normally, Eddie didn’t whip out such eloquent descriptors for anything besides Hellfire’s DnD campaigns. After all, what was a good campaign without a good story? But there was a certain ease that came with being around Chrissy, strangely enough, and here came a sentimental ode to autumn tripping of his tongue. 

For a guy like him—a guy of his lower social standing in the high school food chain—he should be on egg shells around her, anxiously waiting for the other shoe to drop. But he wasn’t. If anything, he felt lighter than he had in weeks. 

“Yeah, it is pretty. As pretty as Hawkins gets really.” Silence fell briefly as he searched for what he wanted to say. “You got big plans for Halloween?” he asked conversationally, a brow quirking as he glanced sidelong at her. “Or are you boring and just pass out candy?” The teasing was obvious: from his tone and how his elbow gently knocked against hers. 

                            ❝ so.... ❞  it was almost idiotic how hard she was trying to come up with a good retort, but at first all she could scavenge was an embarrassed, if wholehearted and helpless, giggle. chrissy kept pushing her steps onward through the leaves as though that cycle produced the electricity powering her train of thought. if she could keep moving, she could come up with an answer that sounded distinctly not boring but also reasonably cool.

funny  —  she’d had her expectations, then so did eddie. clearly they were catching up to him, judging by the bony echo of his elbow’s collide against her arm. and he didn’t even seem all that mad about it.

                            ❝ my little brother is going trick or treating and i’ll walk with him for a while. he’s twelve and my parents don’t really want him to go by himself yet. he’s stuck with me, but he still gets to go. i just stand on the curb and look at all the costumes. it’s really cute to see what everyone comes up with. ❞  chrissy shrugged like it was all simply business as usual, pausing to unsnag the toe of her sneaker from a clump of dirt. she’d have to clean off her shoes at school before heading home. coach tweedy wasn’t such a perfectionist that she’d call chrissy out on a smudge or two, but her mother would certainly notice. white reeboks were nothing to be trifled with. she had an image to uphold. an image that only spotless reeboks would support. 

                           ❝ i did used to go to my friend tina’s house after matty was done and she’d split her candy with me while we watched a movie, but she left for college last year. ❞  another shrug. nothing to bother dwelling on since nothing about tina’s absence could be altered. but enough about me. a small smile bloomed as chrissy made a pin-sharp pivot on her left heel to tread backward. now eddie was locked in her sights.  ❝ do you have big plans? ❞

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

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. ❞  

𝙒𝙃𝘼𝙏 𝙄𝙎 𝙔𝙊𝙐𝙍 𝘾𝙃𝘼𝙍𝘼𝘾𝙏𝙀𝙍 𝘼𝙍𝘾?

𝓇𝑜𝓂𝒶𝓃𝒸𝑒 / 𝒻𝓇𝒾𝑒𝓃𝒹𝓈𝒽𝒾𝓅 𝒶𝓇𝒸. you started this story a little hard, or awkward, or stubborn. that's okay. it's harder than it should be to admit, but what you really want is love. that's what your story is all about - not just the act of loving, but the allowance of it. the confession that you do not want to fight or bleed or save the world, but to simply feel the way two hands fit so easily together. you will have two chairs and a table and you will shut your blinds, and you will say the word love without faltering. this is a happy ending, and you do not need to feel guilty. it hurts our hands to fight - never to hold.

𝙩𝙖𝙜𝙜𝙚𝙙 𝙗𝙮: @manaborn​  ♡ 𝙩𝙖𝙜𝙜𝙞𝙣𝙜:  whoever is curious!

Sharp Objects - 1x05 “Closer”

𝔻𝔼𝔸ℝ 𝔹𝔸𝕐𝕆ℝ 𝕆ℂ𝔸𝕄ℙ𝕆,                        (athousandmilesandcounting​)

send   a   🎤    &   i’ll   shuffle   my   music   &   use   the   lyrics   to   write   a   starter.

@greenscrunchy​

“Finding I’m more lost and found when she’s not around When she’s not around I feel it coming down.”

there’s a story in everything. doodles in class note margins, pins on jackets. converse so customized barely any of the original color remained. the exact order of songs on a cassette. chrissy had never been to a concert, but she’d always wondered if meanings of tracks, or entire albums, shifted when pulled apart then shuffled to stack up a satisfying performance. would listening along be confusing or electric? maybe at college she could finally find out.

songs sung by themselves, though, made her listen twice as hard. even over the whistling of wind past her ears as she slowed down her swing’s rhythm to catch the notes more clearly. 

                    ❝  pretty. it sounds like you miss somebody? someone....good for you?  ❞  

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. ❞