I’m The Opposite Of The Grinch. I’m The Binch. My Heart Is Two Sizes Too BIG

Mothers Talk - Tears For Fears

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

realized i never posted this one here

chrissy deserved better u_u

Sweater weather. Happy September 1st

💭 + what kind of jewelry Chrissy likes to wear most.

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

small and tasteful. classic and classy. arm her with a pair of diamond studs, pearl studs, a little gold hoop set, and the most subtle dangly earrings with...maybe...a bunch of flowers as the charm and she’ll be set for life earrings wise. if she’s feeling particularly snazzy, either white pearl or yellow or pink pearl studs. studs are her preferred simply because hair gets stuck in them less when she’s flying around during cheer, and don’t often get caught on her clothing. 

necklaces, she goes for gold more than silver. chrissy can pull off both metals equally well but finds herself drawn to gold more for its warmth - and how well it works with her hair. her favorites are long statement necklaces with skinny chains and a statement charm or little ones (like her ‘86 necklace) that twinkle neatly at the base of her neck. a little sparkle is preferred but nothing too eyecatching. or too big. her mother loves chunky statement jewelry and not only are they not chrissy’s style, she just can’t stand the look of the damn things. so ostentatious.

if she ever wears rings it’s one at a time so she can mess with it and nothing that can snag or else her mother will have a mini-fit. but she does enjoy wearing them when she isn’t cheering since they help with nervous energy. weirdly, she gravitates toward silver rings over gold, but has collected a few of both. the silver are another reason she only wears one at a time: so they don’t clash with whatever else she’s wearing. 

bracelets are hit or miss. she tends to go without, sticking to hairbands or scrunchies instead. you’ll sooner find her wearing an anklet during the summer or a friendship/woven/beaded bracelet than anything resembling a bangle.

her little jewelry box at home is chiefly her favorite thin and short chain necklaces with tiny charms, some simple rings, lots of studs, a couple small hoop sets, and one charm bracelet. 

on lucky days, the most isolated and quiet location in hawkins high wasn’t actually in the school, but out. along the far wall of the library, past shamefully dusty card catalogues, lurked a fire exit door that existed as an open secret to smokers and escapists alike. once through the forbidden passageway, down the wrought iron steps to the ground below, the narrowest point between hawkins high and middle schools stretched like a long and lonely wind tunnel. ideal for ferrying worries or wisps of smoke far, far away if the need arose.

although, the “fire exit” status was rather a legal misnomer considering that the alarm was turned on once a year solely for when the fire department barreled through to inspect. once the inspectors left, the alarm was switched off and the smokers among the staff and students could puff in peace yet again. 

but unlike the rest of the usual suspects chrissy was no smoker. what she needed today was a little silence and air. across campus the sleepy post-lunch lull reigned supreme for a little while and she’d slumped on the bottom step of the fire escape, praying for just five minutes of solitude. ten if any higher power felt merciful, but five was enough. a couple minutes separated from the rare but explosive cheer squad drama. three hours on and chrissy’s ears still rang from the vitriolic fury slung like bombs ricocheting through the changing room, spraying shocked girls with more verbal shrapnel than shower water. 

cheating of some kind; that’s what all the shouting was about. at least, that was the general consensus disseminating throughout the student body by mid-morning. later, once the steam of anger and after-practice adrenaline had worn off, the story cleared up further: samantha rosen’s boyfriend coulter and abbie smitter had drunkely screwed after a seniors-only party last saturday night and managed to keep it to themselves......until coulter gleefully spilled his guts to the wrong person. all the cheer seniors were picking up battle stations, rapidly expecting the rest of the squad to match their energy and claim a side. 

barely half a day of it and chrissy was exhausted. staring down at her pale green manicure (she’d have to go in again on saturday for a touch up) and picking at her cuticles so as not to sully the polish further, chrissy couldn’t help but wonder the point. of all of it. why cheat? why gossip? what could it mean if samantha was one of the most gorgeous girls on the squad and she still had a wandering boyfriend? 

absolutely none of those were productive roads to go down, yet down chrissy went until the next period’s bell abruptly screamed behind her as if sensing the dangerous spiral. so the absent cheerleader obediently sighed herself to her feet. she’d lately been alternating use of her free period between laps around the exercise field and hiding between the library stacks. today’s circumstances presented the perfect excuse to burrow into her statistics homework, allowing what drama prowled the halls to pass her swiftly by.

god, that was all she wanted right now. for no one to ask anything of her except numbers that she could put in their correct places and problems she could make sense of. all she had to do was slip to her locker then slip back to the library unaccosted. easier said than done, but if she could just get through the stacks first, then maybe....

the imaginary mental map of hawkins high conjured in her head left enough vigilance to shut the fire escape door silently but not much more. with her gaze on her feet chrissy completely missed telltale shadows that looked nothing like bookshelves and managed to shoulder check an entire person. with interest. 

                   ❝ sorry, sorry, i totally wasn’t watching wh — ❞ 

her voice already softened in a whisper to suit the environment, it dropped out completely once the cheerleader looked up. really looked up. to a lot of denim, long curly hair, and a dangerous looking earring. a trademark to anyone who knew their wary way around the school. chill out, just apologize, it’ll be fine. no one’s looking.  ❝ — where i was going. hi, billy. ❞  she made a slow, telling glance toward the exit she’d just left behind.  ❝ are you on your way out? it’s nice out there right now. not too cold. ❞

                                    a note for @firelightfables​’ billy hargrove

hi friends! first of all, thank you for being here and interested in this little chrissy blog. second [spoilers], across the fandom the prevailing aus for chrissy seem to take place during the events of season 4. that is not the case for this portrayal’s main verse. chrissy remains dead for the entirety of the season, only reviving when robin/nancy/steve blast vecna. first killed, first revived.

as vecna emulates the lich of the same name from dnd lore and has noticeably displayed the bodies of chrissy, fred, and patrick in his mind space for max to stumble upon, which, coupled with the line “they’re not gone, eleven. they’re still with me,” provides some implication that the consciousnesses (or souls) of vecna’s victims still exist somewhere inside vecna or in a place of his choosing. this is only emphasized by his stealing of their eyes upon killing them, since “eyes are the windows to the soul”. especially powerful liches possess phylacteries, aka a protective central storage of power for their soul to draw upon when they need to regenerate. the three victims’ souls may very well have been stored in vecna’s “phylactery” mind space - his family’s deconstructed house - for that purpose. when vecna is attacked he is weakened to the point of potentially letting souls slip from his grasp. in a similar fashion that max can enter and exit, chrissy is released from the immediate bondage of vecna’s “phylactery” and able to slip through the cracks. although, unlike max, she isn’t released into the real world but the realm that vecna dwells in: the upside down. until she can find her way out, it’s there that she stays. in the real world, her buried body dissolves and her casket, when exhumed, is discovered to be empty.

long story short, all this can be found on my verses page and this drabble explaining how chrissy woke up. all this is to give chrissy her own unique story that both gives her a chance at agency, a solo story of survival, and manages to keep the timeline of s4 unchanged. thanks so much for reading!!!

Send 🌿 to accidentally get caught under the mistletoe with my muse.

the freak and the cheerleader.

the reporter and the news.

tigers and sheep.

chrissy does well with opposites. 

one particular i adore about chrissy is that she’s so deeply not into profanity - not necessarily because she feels shame, but because the very sound of curse words is grating. it’s ugly to her 9/10 times spoken and heard.

there is a little baptist guilt in there thanks to a childhood of being dragged to church on sundays and her mother’s ever present televangelists on the tv, but it takes a back seat to the sound of curses.

yet with eddie or the party…..it’s still ugly, she still doesn’t like it, but with them it’s a sign of something honest and genuine. eddie especially. she gets the impression that the more he swears, the more he means what he says.

of course the freshman doing it so often is a little jarring, but she will make exceptions for them. they’re just so cute when they’re excited.