If She Were Completely Honest, Chrissy Hadn’t Expected Colorado In The Summer To Rain Quite So Much.

okay i think i’ve waited a healthy amount of time — here’s the inaugural starter call! any and all verses are open as options. lengths will range from several inches to a mile. may or may not also include bonus musical tracks.   no cap / no expiration.

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💭 + 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. 

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𝘿𝙀𝘼𝙍 𝙈𝙎. 𝙎𝙐𝙈𝙈𝙀𝙍𝙎                         (blueminke​)

@greenscrunchy​​     /     chrissy   &   kacey   !

SHE’S THE LAST ONE IN THE CLASSROOM, which isn’t too far out of the norm, carefully placing her belongings into her purse - pencils, pens, wallet, car keys… she swings the bag’s strap over her shoulder as she’s preparing to head out for the day. It’s then that the door to the science classroom peeks open, causing her head to reel to the entryway. OH, CHRISSY… Painted lips curl into a pleasant smile as she stands up from her desk chair to approach the young woman. She knows that it’s been more than difficult for the poor girl to readjust to her life in Hawkins after everything that’s happened, but in the very least, she’s happy to be supportive. “Are you okay, honey?”

chrissy still heard the bats. no matter that she was in the right-side-up now, demobat screeches hid beneath the otherwise inoffensive chirping of nearby birds. the stratified sound grated against nerves in her spinal cord more frigidly than avian silhouettes on a powerline after watching the birds for the first time. hitchcock, for all his mangled and twisty brilliance, could never have fabricated a fear that clung close as breath itself.

rich sunlight washed into ms. summers’ classroom with all the syrupy golden ease of late afternoon, bouncing cheerfully against zeus’s terrarium. the corn snake lounged on a rock feature close to the glass wall, tongue tasting the air now and again. but suddenly the snake’s head turned toward chrissy still at her desk. creature and human locked eyes for a moment, transfixed, until the snake opened his mouth and hissed that time was up. 

the words seemed to come from miles away. chrissy still jumped and surrendered to a moment of spiky adrenaline which forcibly brought her wandering mind back to attention. it wasn’t zeus at all but ms. summers closing out class discussion. chrissy blinked wildly and organized her assignment folders, stuffed her backpack, and walked out like a zombie in a fog.

that was yesterday. 

today the smell of smoke follows her everywhere like it’s trapped in her nostrils. she waves at her friends with a weaker arm than last month even though graduation creeps ever closer. her grades are getting better by centimeters. except life, existence still doesn’t feel grounded when she keeps the truth of the upside down held so close. and it is the truth. but how real is the truth when almost no one knows?

                       ❝ trying. ❞  pathetic. chrissy can do so much better than whispering from the crack in the door.  ❝ today was okay. i’m going to my friend’s house later to help with cleaning up the last of the rubble on their street. ❞  one shoulder has ticked up as she tries to pour her discomfort somewhere else.  ❝  i just....i wondered if i could ask you something? about the earthquake. and....why i got lost. because there’s parts of what happened that scare me. ❞  please, her brain begs as chrissy finally dares to look her kind, pink-cheeked teacher straight in the eye. please don’t think i’m crazy.

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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.

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there’s so much wrong with this place. everything, actually. 

as if the void dimension’s very existence wasn’t crime enough, chrissy stumbled down a hill covered in vines that appeared locked in a neverending battle with themselves, writhing and thrashing until too exhausted to continue. the ground crawled, the sky grumbled. unearthly animal voices chittered nearby every time chrissy so much as scuffed her sneakers too loudly. 

if her nerves weren’t completely shot by the time she escaped, they’d be numb enough to fool her into thinking they were useless. 

like the sky itself was ill, it regularly spat out streams of bloodstained lightning to wash the stale air in a rainbow of bruised indigo across sickly green, mocking her own bruised body - or complementing it. every sound echoed only to disappear moments afterward. even the echoes seemed doomed to die mere yards from their origin.

time burnt away meaninglessly the further chrissy walked on....and on.....and on until  —  yes, finally, main street snuck into view. hawkins always seemed so small from behind a set of wheels. just another pint-sized half awake middle american town that only stirred on weekends and holidays, where people still used the word “newfangled” and the church bell still told the time better than anyone’s watch. family businesses rarely closed because the family seldom moved. home was familiar. home was predictable, safe. 

chrissy had never been more sure of anything in her life when she stared down at the rotten facsimile of hawkins and reminded herself it was the farthest thing from safe. 

what she ought to have done was make a beeline for the police station. that would have been the wisest, smartest thing. but at the sight of the mayor’s office a few blocks away, a wall of exhaustion hit chrissy harder than a freight train. all that walking after an impromptu resurrection did nothing for her stamina and the thought of rest was enough to make her want to burst into tears. enough for her to creep up the office steps and gently pry open the door. inside was silent as a graveyard and twice as dark. dust motes floated in in the air, swirling into eddies while she tiptoed down the central hallway. going up the stairwell was tantamount to courting disaster - even keeping her back to it felt risky. then the smallest stroke of luck materialized in a plush (if musty) chaise lounge tucked away in an office. with some difficulty chrissy managed to drag it all the way back to the front doors and scoot it against the wall adjacent. this way, nothing could get in or out without her knowing. the best she could ask for at the moment. all that was left was to lay down, find an angle that didn’t exacerbate the shooting pain in her shoulder, and attempt to sleep. 

pain lingered no matter how she arranged her limbs, but sleep... sleep crept up on her without warning. the world fell into darkness so quickly that when chrissy awoke it was with a twitch of terror. she couldn’t remember toeing the familiar, milky line between consciousness and the void.

everything looked exactly the same as when she’d arrived. 

had hours passed? had days?

without any shift in light and no sound from the church bell or town center clock, chrissy might as well have been in the same place forever. such a thought blasted shivers into her every extremity. time to move along. this place gave her every species of the creeps ever invented. 

the next two blocks to the police station were small potatoes compared to her haunted trek from the creel house. her body still ached with every bend in her stride. rest had done nothing for her pain, only giving her sufficient energy to push through. well, that was something, wasn’t it? 

despite the flickering hope the notion of weapons provided, that light was dashed by the rattle of very secure locks on every door chrissy tried. she slammed her good shoulder into all of them; none did so much as tremble in their frames. the windows were barred even if she could find a rock to smash the glass. in the end, all she had were her frantic fists and shouts of panic that she knew, chrissy knew, were more foolhardy than anything else. any number of the nightmares lurking in shadows that she never spotted could hear her and come rushing out, discovering the easiest prey to ever wander in their vicinity. her yelps were careless and scratched like sandpaper over the tender meat of her throat, but she couldn’t seem to stop. she’d come all this way for nothing otherwise. this couldn’t be for nothing. she couldn’t let it stop here.

                               ❝  hello?? please, is somebody in there? i need help, please. hello?? ❞  if only faithful chief hopper was still alive, he’d have come running. maybe chief powell would, too. anyone, anyone.  ❝  it’s chrissy, chrissy cunningham. please, i don’t know what’s happening anymore. help, HELP!!!  ❞  

                             a note to @hellmartyr​ 

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Led Zeppelin – Going To California

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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. ❞

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𝘿𝙀𝘼𝙍 𝙏𝙄𝙉𝘼 𝙎𝘼𝙉𝘿𝙀𝙍𝙎                        ( @tinasparty​ )

greenscrunchy asked: ❝ you start to believe all the things they say. that this place is cursed. ❞   stranger things 4 : accepting !

        TINA  DOESN’T  EVEN  NEED  THE  RUMORS  to  know  there’s  something  wrong  with  hawkins;  she  can  feel  the  darkness  in  the  air,  SENSING  it.  people  go  missing  or  succumb  to  fates  so  nightmarish  it  can’t  be  natural  and  she  notices.  “trust  me…  i  believe  it.  i  believe  everything.”  and  the  reason  tina  knows  too  much  is  because  of  the  visions  conjured  by  her  mind’s  eye,  the  psychic  trait  no  one  knows  about  her.  “and  i  don’t  have  a  good  feeling  about  this…  it’s  not  over  yet,”  she  speaks  cryptically,  though  she  can  tell  chrissy  understands  exactly  what  she’s  trying  to  say.  there’s  none  of  her  typical  flirtation  in  her  smile,  the  charming  attitude  she  carries  herself  with  absent  this  time  as  she  feels  the  weight  of  what  chrissy  says.  it’s  true,  and  there’s  a  wistful  and  almost  melancholic  look  swimming  in  mocha  eyes.  “i’m  just…  so  worried.  about  everyone,  you  know?”  it  haunts  her  late  at  night,  keeping  her  wired  and  even  casting  shadows  and  chilling,  premonitory  scenes  into  her  dreams:  who’s  next?

                  ❝ yeah.... i do know. ❞  hard not to fret when the wheel of hawkins’ internal disaster compass keeps spinning without offering any useful sense of direction and there’s no magnetic field of realistic explanations to keep it grounded. even with all that proof that proves nothing but the worst, chrissy still feels a lump of stress unravel partway when tina needs no additional detail to keep talking. just a hint at what’s been bothering everyone their age lately set her off enough. it means chrissy isn’t alone. 

midway up the bleachers that used to drive chrissy crazy, the ones parked right next to the pathway leading towards the middle school, she’s realizing how useful they are. the breeze seems to whisk away any words they utter too loudly, leaving them safe in their windy little bubble. good, because chrissy doesn’t want everyone in the yard to hear this next part.   

                 ❝ how come it’s just some of us, though, and not the adults? like, this rally we’re supposed to have in a couple weeks. it wasn’t the squad’s idea, or our coach’s, it was principle higgins’. a rally isn’t going to make us feel better when our friends kept dying all summer. i’m ready for it to stop. but instead of being able to do anything we’re just at school. and that’s it. ❞

---

Guido Grünewald

Chessie, the mascot kitten of the Chesapeake and Ohio Railway ,1933

etching

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💭 + mementos of childhood

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

HER FULL SET OF NANCY DREW MYSTERIES. those are precious to her and she keeps them well past adulthood and collects every one for as long as they’re published. 

a whole stack of little diaries with the worst locks of all time as clasps. you know the ones. she never wrote in them regularly and mostly copied passages from books and little poems that she liked in between actual thoughts and doodles. (only when she had good hiding places for her diary did her real thoughts come out.) all the identical cheap metal keys live on a frayed green ribbon necklace that chrissy used to wear “just in case anyone tries to steal my secrets”. 

lisa frank pencils and sticker covered notebooks. she kept a few of her favorite pencils whole and unsharpened and they live in her desk. same with several novelty erasers that have since dried beyond usability, but are just fun to look at.

teeny tiny scrunchies from when she had less hair and her wrists were smaller. their shrunken size doesn’t make them any less sweet and she enjoys keeping track of her favorite colors through the years.

a decorated shoebox full of ribbon bows, with notes and letters from cheer coaches past who always had lovely things to say. 

stuffed at the back of one drawer is the ace bandage from her first cheer injury - a rolled ankle. 

several shoeboxes full of makeshift scrapbook pages she tried throwing together as a little girl that never looked anything except disorganized. but she had a pretty solid eye for color grouping and aesthetic building, all the pages just looked messy. she keeps them as a reminder of how much she’s improved her approach.

then, there’s different boxes filled with victorian style cutouts of animals, angels, hearts, bows, gifts, phrases, and symbols of all kinds that she’s either saved or collects to use for cards. her valentines are stuff of legend. and lace. lots of paper lace. there’s also plastic gems she pried out of costume jewelry that get glued here and there onto the paper designs. more punchy than glitter, and far less messy. 

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