moved this blog @chrissytm !
Misplaced Lens Cap
Today's Document

#extradirty
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$LAYYYTER

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we're not kids anymore.
noise dept.
Cosimo Galluzzi

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祝日 / Permanent Vacation

pixel skylines

Discoholic 🪩
wallacepolsom
Three Goblin Art
todays bird
Claire Keane
Cosmic Funnies

Kaledo Art

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@cunninghamtm
moved this blog @chrissytm !
last time i talked about chrissy's and jason's relationship i was perhaps too nice. but jason is another person in chrissy's life who is treating her like a doll, a commodity, his anger and reaction to chrissy's death is more about the fact that he would rather crash out on everything than her being dead...which is understandable to a degree, the allegde murder is gruesome. however i think to that guy it's more about the questions people would ask about what is chrissy doing at eddie's house. jason is neglectful, and perpetuating the same enviorment that has chrissy weary and drained enough for vecna to haunt her. it's not his responsibility to be a good boyfriend, but he isn't one. chrissy isn't living her fantasy romance and jason has no clue. she just isn't happy and he doesn't care because he doesn't see it.
eddie loves performing. he loves the rush of chemicals as he stands on stage and screams, the way everything fades into the background when he wails away at his guitar until his fingers threaten to bleed. hd looks forward to all that adrenaline. this, though, this was an awful rush. the adrenaline of the show turned sour the second he lost sight of chrissy, firing through his veins in all the wrong ways. at least now she's touching him, real as ever, moving him back and forth like he's something to worry about. "jesus, i'm fine. you-" eddie shakes his head. he mirrors chrissy, his fingers cradling the curve of her jaw, clumsily slipping around her ears. "where did you... christ, i was worried." she looks okay. a little rumpled, and flushed, but okay. eddie can breathe a little easier. he pulls her in closer and plants a kiss on her forehead. slightly sweaty forehead, but he doesn't mind, doesn't think much of it. venues get hot. eddie wraps his arms around her and squeezes.
"did you see her- spidergirl? she was a badass. i mean, she's a total freak. complete nutcase." eddie can't keep the pure admiration out of his voice. "she came in shooting webs everywhere. she's all psht psht psht--" he sticks out both hands in the spiderweb motion; forefinger, thumb, and pinkie stuck out, wrist exposed. "and she just fuckin' wails on them and these goons go down like they weigh nothing. it was sick."
i was worried he says. and she does feel a little guilty. he does have something to worry about. and this big secret rests on her tongue heavy and constricting. but it's like, if she tells him then. well then he would know. and things could change and she's not stopping. it's saving him from the heartache. the kiss on her forehead works like magic, blinks the heaviness out of existence. hugs him right back, he's got her. and she's got him.
her cheeks somehow turn warmer. bright round eyes blink at eddie's words. flushed from the sudden activity, and now compliments, admiration. she nods, listening in. chrissy wants to bite her lips she doesn't she just smiles and giggles at the sudden movement, eddie's silly antics will never get boring, and she can't help herself there's some pride in what she does. all in a hard day's work or. something. "careful, i'll get jealous." she pokes at his side, and she's joking. a total freak, a complete nutcase. whatever it says on the newspapers later they have nothing on that. "-kinda...a big bummer about the show though. i think everyone was having a great time before the whole. you know." chrissy instinctively holds out her hand, their little moment framed by the firefighter lights, probably trying to figure out any structural damage to the building. she'll feel that one in the morning.
@sordidery
there's a growing list of things chrissy cunningham finds herself doing currently that she wouldn't have had before. first, she met up with eddie munson at his spot. second, she said yes to an invitation to eddie's. third, she lied to her boyfriend. and friends. somehow managing to skip everything with the excuse of a headache, getting down with a cold. or something. anything. her heart has been hammering in her chest since lunch.
the sensation of being haunted never truly leaves her. no matter what she does, but at that park bench she had forgotten about it all together. it was a heavy thing to realize then, eddie munson is not only not scary, but he's funny. and cute. and charming. and she hadn't been able to get him out of her head. delicate fingers fidget with her sweater.
it's 6:30. on the dot. everyone left for their party. and she's waiting, the thought of eddie not showing up at the back entrance of the school makes her nauseous, had it been all in her head? whatever she was feeling. the list of things chrissy would never had done before seems that will continue to grow. she's thinking about turning on her heels and going back, calling home or something when she hears the van. not as loud as she expected it to be, but she can hear the engine. and chrissy blinks back into a smile. soft and nervous still.
eddie munson turns the engine off and walks out, the first thing she meets are his eyes, round and bright, happy to see her almost. and he opens the door for her. she gets in, waits then. turns to him as he gets in the car, it feels just that little easier to be. "i thought you weren't. i mean for a second i thought- i'm glad you're here now." it feels new, exciting. she doesn't know where this is going, but she hasn't felt anything like this in a long time. it's like she's younger. and the double bars are infront of her for the first time. chrissy just has to take the leap. "how was your game?" she holds onto her backpack as they roll out of hawkins high.
one minute you were here and the next minute, you were gone. /+ mj eddie
chrissy is adjusting her dress, her jacket, running fingers through her hair. once she figures out where eddie is she's beaming, running up to him, if not for the tiredness in her eyes nothing would be amiss. she blinks herself awake. looking up at eddie, like he hung the stars and the moon in the sky. she's not as panicked as she should be, her heart beating this fast. it would seem like it but it's just the thrill of getting the job done.
he's got a worried face on, concerned. but not suspicion. she doesn't think at least. "i just lost you in the crowd, thought it would be better, safer to meet you out here." it's her damn luck, her boyfriend's band sold out a pretty size venue only for that place to be hit by whatever flavor of the week that very night. good thing spidergirl was there. or whatever the newspapers are calling her now. "-are you okay? things got...really crazy." she reaches out to hold his face first, inspects it. makes sure that eddie isn't hurt.
lowkey thinking about chrissy
like this for memes !
hi
I’ve been having so much incoherent Chrissy thoughts and no where to put them
like this to plot
who want me
BRAM STOKER’S DRACULA 1992 | dir. Francis Ford Coppola
it does not happen all at once. it accumulates. a slow and seismic convergence, the kind of inevitability that masquerades itself as hesitation, as eddie munson, patron saints of almosts and aborted landings, leans into the gravity she has already established and the van seems to tilt accordingly, a tired ark creaking under the weight of two people who have finally stopped pretending this is anything less than catastrophic.
there is a breath, misplaced and misfiled, that ghosts her mouth first, warm and unsteady and the air between them becomes crowded with everything he has never known how to say correctly. lips hover, stalled at the threshold. and then contact. so soft it hardly registers as impact and more like recognition and the kiss is conducted in lowercase. permission compounded, his hands are utterly useless, finding purchase on either side of him against the van as though fearing an overstep. when they part, gradually, eddie doesn't pull away so much as stall.
it ends not with the kind of cinematic detonation the movies sell you, no orchestral swell or neon certainty, just the soft calamitous misalignment of energy and a recalibration of them as beings. suddenly, the space between them becomes enormous.
he stays close, gnaws momentarily at his lower lip, and then speaks. “ .. hi. ” it's barely audible, a syllable still damp from the place it came from, a word so painfully insufficient it borders on devotional. it's the kind of greeting you give someone you've just met again, and perhaps that is fitting. eddie and chrissy have reintroduced themselves. eddie swallows, huffs a laugh much more adjacent to a nervous tick, and drops his head. “ sorry. ” and truthfully, he means it in every direction all at once. there is something so tragically childlike in him now, stripped of this theatrical armor of his and discarded it outside of the van. it's just eddie, a guy who kissed a girl and is now trying really hard not to apologize for doing so.
his hesitation only makes the anticipation settle in her chest, he's warm. a boyish charm that seemed near impossible for it to pour out of eddie munson before all this, before them. that talk. her eyes close and it's all touch, lips with left over lipgloss pressing against his. and it's. it's everything, what's been felt, what hasn't been said, the way it lingers around them. her heart beats so. she follows him, holds onto his shoulder for a sense of stability.
he breaks and it takes a moment for her to blink her eyes open, her face warmer. cheeks almost red beyond the blush that often adorned her cheeks. and it's this feeling, everything's changed. but so has she? so has eddie? the moment of uncertainty is broken by his voice. he gives a laugh. "hey you." it's her seeing him once again. and it's sweet, it makes her smile, the type that reaches her eyes. he apologizes and it's the nicest thing.
her hand gently frames his face, from shoulder to cheek. "don't be sorry." it soft, the way it starts, the way it carries. "-it's nice. this is nice. you're nice." nice. it doesn't cover it, the way it feels like she cant find the word for it. unwrapped but not brand new. not to be a possession but rather someone dear. dear enough to say sorry after such a sweet thing. she lifts his head, and presses her lips to his. her turn. nothing to be embarrassed about now. "promise." like that confirms it for her. her heart in her ears. eyes smoldering with care, affection, want. eddie munson isn't everything that a girl could want but it's what she does, and everything that encompasses him.
eddie has a miles long dossier of almosts and misfires accumulated in the archive. you see, he's navigated something similar, allegedly, by rite of teenage wilderness: flurried mouthings behind the bleachers and backseat fumblings and locker-hall lore of what guys are supposed to do. though, he may have learned it all wrong. if he even learned anything at all because none of those ghosts tear at his ribs quite like this does. none of their glances have ever quite made him feel transparent down to the bone , stripped and marrow-visible.
one chrissy cunningham, halo-soft with a spine of burnished steel, comet-hearted , seated beside him as choice. she is no fever-dream accolade. chrissy regards him, she is observing him , no visions to treat him like freak or fable or frontman. not like hell-sigiled urban legend, but as eddie. and in that looking, he becomes almost unbearably alive within.
he could kiss her , he thinks. and it's as honest as it blunt. forthright. periphery narrowing as overwhelming and surrounding thoughts coming to his deafening crescendo. she feels it, too, she says, in her all her courages. and he watches it happen , chrissy stepping out of myth and out of glass coffin. eddie's heart staggers defiantly against its cage. he doesn't realize it until now that he meant learning with her in every unpracticed cell and every existence of the word. and in the hush, eddie trails a visionary line between her eyes, then her lips. is he reading this all wrong ? inquiries, be it may, caution steps to the wind. he should kiss her , he decides. in sea-like wavers, he asks for permission. “ ... can i ? ” voice a rasp, all metal muted, bravado stripped down.
eddie looks at her in ways no one has ever dared to. chrissy is surely a delicate thing, to be handled with care. and anyone who did not know eddie might assume it is not in his best abilities to take care of her. but it is everything that has led to here, in this moment that would prove everyone else wrong. here so close his deep dark eyes shine with something she can't quite place.
make no mistake, chrissy has been kissed before. she had a boyfriend before this. something she does not enjoy thinking about, at the end it felt hollow, emptied out. nothing there but porcelain exterior. she had cared, sure but she didn't feel this. the warmth of desire, and want, and need so present that it made her heart beat out of her chest, so intense it made her feel alive all over again. her cheeks warm, turned rosy. he looks at her lips. she's gone, gone, gone.
this is it, the moment. his eyes on her lips and hope is all that overtakes her. he asks his voice turning to that genuine sound when no one else is listening and her eyes go wide for a moment. "yes, please." it's soft the way it leaves her lips, barely a whisper and she nods as if that could encompass her want, slowly, delicately. no one's ever asked, not like this. and somehow it feels like this will be the first kiss she's ever had. probably the first real one, she waits, holding her breath. her hand on his shoulder, just to steady herself. how many times had she dreamed of something like this?
Chrissy smiling with her lips va Chrissy smiling with her teeth !
there’s something about chrissy being all vintage just a really really classic beauty
the biggest contrast a character like Chrissy has with someone like for example Laura Palmer is that her image and reputation do not stray too far away from who she was, in the sense that people know she was nice and sweet and that is the truth…I think the second biggest contrast is that in hawkins no one assumes she was suffering in anyway shape or form when she was. Chrissy Cunningham wasn’t truly herself because she wasn’t allowed to. all her energy and resources were devoted to circle around pretending that she was fine. this to say that it’s interesting to me then to explore Chrissy having negative emotions other than sadness or fear, how’s all that repression going to impact her.