💭 Nancy Chris Headcanons

the freak and the cheerleader.

the reporter and the news.

tigers and sheep.

chrissy does well with opposites. 

𝔻𝔼𝔸ℝ   𝔹𝔸𝕐𝕆ℝ   𝕆ℂ𝔸𝕄ℙ𝕆                (athousandmilesandcounting​)

Even before he looked up and saw who had spoken to him, their voice carried with it a disarming and unexpected kindness that he couldn’t help but smile at. When he got a look at the young girl’s aura, he was only surprised that the reality managed to surpass the expectation-as well as the deep sadness coiled around it.

Her question earned a small, sad smile that grew somewhat after a beat. “Got it in one. Thinkin’ about a real good someone in my less than awesome hours here. It’s real sweet of you to ask, my dude.”

immediately all chrissy’s tentative assumptions were blown far and wide by such a carefree cadence. she gently pressed her lips together so a laugh wouldn’t accidentally spill out. the amusement sourced more from her interest than his oddity, but considering the mood he might be in chrissy wasn’t keen on taking a chance. 

                   ❝  where are you from?  is that where she is?  ❞

less than awesome hours here.  hawkins here or.....or hours on earth here? the realization that she could empathize with both tasted sour on the back of her tongue. he absolutely didn’t need to know that.   ❝  it was just a question. but being alone missing someone is hard. i’m sorry. ❞

💭 + 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. 

(lays back all sexy for u on the bed) (bangs my fuckign head on the headboard)

hours into the unclear future, chrissy might catch herself realizing that infinite reasons could exist for pink cheeks and dreamy silences in a packed kitchen hot from crowded bodies guzzling light beer and gossip like air, but in the moment she was only capable of joyously giggling,  ❝ steve, you’re so pink! ❞  a small poke to his cheek came after, followed in quick succession by an exultant gasp and a poke to a nearby eddie’s cheek.  ❝ you both are! ❞

such a sight was inexplicably tickling with a plastic cup of punch or two in her system (never more than that, however  —  playing it safe has become more comforting than boring) that lent a glowing edge to even the harshest of lighting and noises. like all of them were sucked into the kind of classic 80’s film chrissy used to romanticize within an inch of its life. with her shoulder sunk into eddie’s side and halfway beaming at steve, an argument could be made. brat pack, eat your heart out. they didn’t have safe places like she did, to be drawn back to every night like twin homing beacons. they weren’t laughing like she could these days. 

a slow, loose dawning still managed to roll over the former cheerleader, cooling a little of her own halfway inebriation.  ❝ it’s been a while, right? since we had fun like this? ‘cuz it feels good. ❞  

a freak, a jock, & an ex-jock walk into a party....     ///      @firelightfables​ + @starsinshadows​

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.

chrissy on vigil by max’s bedside. 

switching between rubbing the blood back into max’s fingers, putting lotion on max’s hands, brushing max’s hair, and taking stock of her own still bruised limbs.

sitting by lucas while he’s reading to max and taking over when lucas has to leave or gets tired. 

asking lucas (and whoever else is willing) to tell stories about max so no one even gets close to forgetting what max was like alive and well. 

chrissy telling dustin she’s noticed his hat collection for a while and likes all of them. being fascinated by dustin’s fascination with radios. 

chrissy asking erica with genuine interest how she got into d&d, immediately getting more curious when she learns about figure painting and dice towers and homemade maps and dioramas. erica is no cliché and she has too many facets to ever be boring.

chrissy finding out nancy knows a thing or two about guns and with great trepidation asking if nancy will show her what she knows. saying she needs to read the school paper more. promising nancy she’s got the clear head and the clear eyes to see what’s happening in the world and call it out truthfully. admiring nancy’s dedication to not being just some girl. 

going to family video and getting into an almost heated discussion with robin over the ranking of brat pack movies before deciding st. elmo’s fire is superior. or maybe it’s the outsiders. is it the outsiders? probably. steve is making cartoon blinking noises.

chrissy being endlessly amused and in awe of robin, her solid sense of self. soon showing up to band concerts with a single pompom to wave in silence as a show of support.

something about will drawing chrissy in, even if he’s near silent, until she pulls him aside and asks what he’s feeling, if it’s anything like what she felt. getting to sit down together and explain all the leftover fear and dread to someone who might actually understand how heavy and how inevitable it feels. 

chrissy teaching max leg strengthening exercises.

driving to max’s house and either existing in post-vecna silence from the pain of living through it or doggedly pushing through and either cussing at their bodies’ weaknesses together or chrissy taking max’s hand and urging them both across the yard to the clothesline and back, then to the dog and back. and then to eddie’s house and back. 

chrissy asking eddie if there’s anything that can be done about his uncle’s trailer.

bringing wayne a new mug and flowers, desperately sorry he had to see her twisted the way she had been on his floor. 

every time she goes to see eddie bringing a hat or a mug for his uncle.

chrissy trying to ask what everyone’s favorite song is, but when it gets too hard to say and stings to remember, she asks about favorite albums. 

going to record stores and digging through bargain bins and whatever she can find that makes her think of the hawkins heroes. 

chrissy going to the picnic table clearing with a trash bag and determinedly cleaning up the tiny little space as if it will somehow cleanse it. 

chrissy being benched from cheer but still showing up to every game, now able to cheer for her squad even more than simply the players on the court. the girls become much less than just simple squad-mates and much more like friends.

chrissy telling mike and will she’s admired how close their friendship has been over the years. 

chrissy asking all four of the freshman boys how long they’ve liked d&d and what got them started. 

just once getting to have a conversation with argyle and hanging on every word that comes out of his mouth with a huge smile on her face, completely entranced and entertained. 

chrissy visiting fred and patrick’s graves to clean and decorate them. she didn’t know fred but from a distance and knew patrick on a friendly surface level, but she knows the horrors they experienced before they died. that’s enough. 

chrissy going to the hideout on tuesdays, not just to see eddie play, but to see corroded coffin. to hear the band members eddie is so proud of playing their hearts out. to actually learn their names and talk to them all and get to know them. she doesn’t scream or whoop or holler during their set but remembers particularly sharp riffs and rhythms to compliment later. asking about song names and lyrics and inspirations.

chrissy telling all of her female friends daily that they’re beautiful, slowly, eventually abandoning references to appearance altogether and telling them they’re amazing and smart or clever instead. what she might have liked to hear, unladen with subtext. 

the party having lunch picnics on the school lawn. 

creating summer game plans together and apart.

library dates.

desperately trying to reclaim any sense of normalcy within hawkins.