This Ain't No Disco

@eddietheexiled

Eddie. 24. Bartender at the Hideout.

32 posts

Finally joined that Tik Tok garbage awhile ago and it's actually the exact brain rot I needed.

There's a guy on there that recreates episodes of The Muppet Show using legos. What's not to like?

Maybe I can get my music out there with it, even.

Never thought I'd be the douchebag setting up a tripod to record myself riffing, but here we are. This is what it's come to.

I should've been a teenager in the 80s.

Anyway, enjoy this gem I forgot about.

#modern verse #I have no tags for this verse because I am never ever that organized

//I’m really sorry I disappeared. I got sick and then my mental health tanked. I promise I’ll be back.

𝐖𝐇𝐎: dustin & whomever !! 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓: dusty crashing out, what's new :)

dustin had been in line at the post office long enough for the clerk to develop the thousand-yard stare of someone questioning all their life choices.

the package on the counter was only half-taped, the flaps bending and popping open every time he nudged it. inside: a roll of black and white film from the disposable camera he’d used for his latest experiment, a tiny glass vial of harmless (probably) blue powder and a letter to suzie that had so many cross-outs it looked like a map. he’d been rearranging those three items for ten solid minutes, as if a different angle might suddenly make the box feel complete.

“you can’t send liquids,” the clerk said flatly. “and it’s not a liquid,” dustin shot back. “it’s powdered copper sulfate. totally safe. unless you eat, like, a pound of it. which - why would anyon— look, it’s fine.”

the clerk’s reply was a slow blink which only made dustin exhale hard through his nose, slapping the tape dispenser onto the counter and yanking the box back toward himself. “y’know what? forget it. i’m taking this on the road before i commit a federal crime.”

two steps from the counter, still muttering something about 'people who wouldn’t know science if it hit them in the face', he spotted the first person in range and practically shoved the box into their hands. “alright, so here’s the deal. i need something for suzie. it’s gotta be something she’ll think is cool but not, you know, suspicious to a federal agency if they open the box. like, imagine you’re sending a care package to the smartest person you know and you want them to open it and immediately think, ‘wow, i should probably marry this guy’ — not that i want to marry her, i mean, we’re teenagers, relax. but hypothetically.”

he gestured at the open flaps, then back over his shoulder toward the counter. “because apparently powdered copper sulfate is ‘dangerous’ now and my other idea is bubble wrap and a cassette of me singing the periodic table. which, by the way, would absolutely kill at any science fair.”

Eddie sighed wearily, contemplating not even going into the post office today. This was the tenth Corroded Coffin demo tape he'd sent out. That meant nine different record labels either tossed it in the garbage, or listened to it, decided it should be garbage, then tossed it in the garbage. Either way, he was feeling pretty vulnerable. But if he didn't want to roll over and surrender to the pull of Hawkins quicksand, he had to keep trying. This was his last-ditch effort. If nothing came from this tape, he'd start playing shows out of town again. Or at least, he hoped he would. He hadn't exactly talked to the other members about that part. They needed exposure, and with the curfew in place, he was losing hours and money. Even if what the shows paid only covered gas... at least he could get out of Hawkins for a bit. Resolved to venture forward, he stepped out of his van and shut the door behind him, flipping the padded envelope over in his hands.

Eddie was still looking at the envelope when a box was shoved into his arms. Head darting upward, he shifted the envelope to his other hand as he steadied his grip. "Hello to you too, butthead."

He studied the items in the box, wordless as he tried to translate in his mind the significance behind each thing. "I'm gonna have a few questions here to gain an understanding of why you thought these were good options. First, what's on that roll of film? Second, the sulphury copper, whatever the hell you just said... what is the purpose of that? No wonder they said no to it. if you hadn't explained it to me, I'd think you were sending some sort of drug," he joked, though his statement was true. "And the letter... man..." Eddie picked it the letter up to eyeball it closer before he continued. "You couldn't be bothered to write on a new piece of paper without the editing marks? At least write with a pencil if you're not going to re-write the finished product. Listen, I know your girlfriend's a prodigy level genius, but she's also a girl. Girls like marshmallow soft gifts. A mixtape, for starters. I mean, I'm not discriminating. If you think she'd actually care to hear you sing the periodic table, then you gotta shove that bad boy in this box. Press some flowers in a book so that they'll already be preserved when she gets them. Listen, I got a few ideas. When do you need to send this off by? When's her birthday?"

Eddie's blank stare flipped to an amused grin when he recognized the voice on the other side of the line. "Ah, come on Mike. If someone decided to call the cops because of how I answered the phone, that would already make my night a little more entertaining. Unfortunately, the movers and shakers are few and far between this evening. Although I did see Jason Carver's pop and man oh man did that take me back. You know that man ordered a red beer? That's beer with tomato juice, Mike. That's psychotic behavior, right there. The apple doesn't fall too far from the tree, I'll tell ya..." he trailed off, realizing Mike probably didn't call to hear the drink orders of their former classmates' parents. Still, the theatrical side of him couldn't help but divulge. Without warning, Eddie noticed a non-paying customer stepping behind the bar to grab a beer. "Hey, no one goes behind the counter but me or my bar backs, got it? You want something, you ask, okay sticky fingers? Mike, hey hold on a sec..." The cord to the phone could only stretch so far, so he clumsily placed the headset down on the wooden bar as he moved to grab cash from the beer thief. After placing the bottle down in front of them, Eddie returned to the phone with a huff.

"Wait...you're asking me for advice? The same person who took three tries to graduate?" He kept his mouth clenched then, giving Mike the opportunity to get through the specifics of what he was asking. Thankfully, most of the information he sought was fairly easy to answer.

If you’re picking electives this year, let me save you some trouble. The easiest class you’ll ever take is Ms. Kelley’s Child Development. Yeah, you have to carry around an egg for a whole week, pretending it’s a baby, but honestly? That’s way less stressful than Speech and Debate. In that class, they’ll bury you in essays, making you write and present arguments for and against everything. Ms. Kelley only asks for one essay a quarter, and she’s way more understanding than most of the other senior teachers. Now, Algebra II? Stay far away from Mr. Jones. If you get the chance, take it with Mr. Himbry instead. He’s zones out half the class and probably has Irish coffee hidden in that thermos he always carries. The rest of your classes are pretty standard. Just do your work and keep your head down. By senior year, most students have completely checked out, so if you actually show any interest in what they’re teaching, they might just cream their pants and beg you to take their extra credit.

Locker section, locker section... truth be told I only used one my last year because I didn't study before then. No books to carry, no locker. But if I can remember right, stick to the area in the academic wing. That's where the majority of your Senior classes are going to be, so you won't be scurrying around like a rat on butter half the time. And I'll have you know, smartass, the best place to study is the library. I wouldn't know, but that's what I've been told. I think your brainiac sister should be able to help you with other spots though. How is she, by the way?" he asked nonchalantly.

The purpose of Mike calling him for school advice was made clearer when he mentioned being nervous. Ah. Now this made more sense to Eddie. This he could help with.

"Mike... senior year? Besides the pressure to pass and figure out what you want to do with the rest of your life, it’s smooth sailing. You’ve clawed your way from the bottom all the way up to the top of the totem pole. You’re already one foot out the door while the freshmen are still struggling just to find their footing. It’s only natural to be nervous. Hell, you’ve got a lot more going for you after graduation than I ever did.”

A sharp pang of bittersweet nostalgia tightened in Eddie’s chest, quick and fierce, before fading away like a wisp of cigarette smoke. How he wished he could be a senior again, full of that raw hope, that burning belief he could finally kick the dust of Hawkins off his boots and never look back. But reality had other plans, and in the end, it was reality that made Eddie’s choice for him.

"Talk to me. What are you nervous about?" he urged, shifting the phone to his other ear as he made a Tequila Sunrise for the Hawkins librarian.

Eddie listened, shifting the phone to his other ear; the good one. Years of playing shows without earplugs (because earplugs were fascist) left him with lackluster hearing. When he realized Mike was approaching the "life advice" portion of his query, Eddie rubbed the back of his neck as he searched for the right perspective to give him. What the hell did he know about picking a college, a career? Even his success in the love life area was severely lacking. Turns out, playing guitar and being the lead singer of a local band didn't guarantee luck with the ladies. So, ever earnest in his approach, he cautiously began. And what he told Mike is what he wished someone, anyone had told him back when it felt like life was overwhelming and a forest of wrong turns he could veer into. What someone would tell him if he'd had even half the opportunities that Mike did.

"Ah, you know I can't help you with the college part, Mike. I mean, what I can say and probably sound ignorant for it is that all of them will be about the same, right? Especially if you're not sure what you want to do. They say pick a major, but that doesn't mean you can't change it, you know? Nothing is a life sentence. You want out of Hawkins so badly? Narrow things down a bit in your mind. Find something that's closest to what you want to do and find the college that has a good program for it. Then, make sure it has a better program for Plan B and C. Having those back up options will make you feel less stuck. But pick something if you really do want to leave at the end of this school year. I think the guidance counselor still does those career aptitude tests or whatever. Sidenote, Chrissy Cunningham is the new guidance counselor and she's dying to save you and every other kid there. I'm serious. Maybe you should think about going to talk to her. It couldn't hurt. Her heart's in the right place. If you do, do me a favor would you and tell her Eddie sent you?"

Eddie paused, not wanting to sound condescending as he dispensed his feeble advice. It's just that, Mike had a world of opportunities and couldn't pick. It certainly sent his thoughts through a pondering spin. For years, Eddie sensed he'd been forced into his path through lack of choices. Now he understood having more choices didn't necessarily make anything easier.

"And Mike? Don't worry about your love life. If you're on your way outta here anyway, I doubt your person is in Hawkins. Unless there's someone you're pining after secretly, which would mean we'd need to have another conversation entirely. You don't have to have it all figured out before 21, I promise you. Look at me. I'm a showcase of opportunity just waiting to be put on display." He chuckled at himself, barely able to take his own words seriously.

There was some clinking of bottles in the background of Eddie's line as he nodded to a scatter of patrons to see if they needed any refills.

"One second Mike. Thirsty people in here tonight." He set the phone back down on the countertop, quickly redistributing fresh drinks as he removed the empties. Returning to the phone, Eddie continued.

"I'm always here if you need to talk about these things. If you want me to shut the hell up and just listen so you can vent, I'll do that too. You asked for advice, and while I'm not the most experienced person, I'll always try to answer a question as best I can. You've got a world of opportunity in front of you Mike. Don't forget that part. You're holding the map to endless treasures, man."

#SO sorry for the delay #think I'm finally out of my writer's block weeeee

strangerthingsedits

Stranger Things Chapter Eight: Papa | 4.08

they're called love handles bc I love to handles them

hellfire-eddie-m

Eddie's brow furrowed as Chrissy's consistent drip of information switched to a running faucet. He noticed the shift of her body language; poised and composed despite the obvious trembling anxiety resting just below the surface. Before commenting on Lucas, Eddie returned an affirmative nod and soft smile when she mentioned the Shirley Temple. "Absolutely, comin' right up," he replied, turning away from her to prepare the drink.

After adding a special flair (two pink umbrellas and extra cherries with a heavier splash of grenadine) he set the drink in front of her. "One Shirley Temple. You know, rumor has it this is really the liquid courage they talk about. I'm just sayin'. " He rested a beat, with an awkward tap of his knuckles on the worn wooden bar top. "Just keep at it. It takes time for kids to open up and trust. Believe me, I was one of them. I didn't exactly enjoy my trips to the guidance counselor either. But eventually, I opened up a little more. Learned she was just doing her job, and that she actually cared. Just like you do. They'll come around. I promise." Still curious, he inquired "I know you probably can't share exactly what went on during your meeting with Lucas, but if it's something I could help with just let me know." Eddie had a permanently etched spot in his heart for each member of Hellfire, and he felt an allegiance to them. Not to mention his own lack of mentors growing up burdened him with the need to be one himself. Even if his life choices didn't exactly model excellence.

"It's alright, Chrissy. It kind of comes with this job. Plus, I don't mind listening and it's clear you needed to get this all out. Maybe it'll help the next school week go a bit better, anyway."

He exhaled a dry chuckle when she asked if he worked at The Hideout. "Yep, going on a year now. Owner got sick and by that point I'd been playing near weekly shows here for a couple of years. Said he didn't trust anyone else to take it over, and that no one would take care of it like I could. I'm not sure I trust his judgement, but here I stand, and regretfully will most likely remain." Eddie's face spoke contemplation, silent as he considered Chrissy's question. "Let's just say I really didn't expect to still be here four years after graduating. I probably should've known, but I had this Peter Pan naivety that my music would take me far away from here. School was never really my thing. Hawkins is sort of oversaturated with mechanics at this point, though I do some work on the side. I don't know. Maybe I should've left without a plan as soon as I graduated. Maybe that was the key to escaping. Now I'm in the quicksand of sticky bar floors, drunks fighting to be overserved, and peanut shells," he ended, picking up a dish that held discarded shells and emptying it into the trash.

"Which is why the burning question I've had in my mind since you walked into this bar is 'Why the hell did you come back to Hawkins?'" Eddie wasn't trying to be rude. His directness could sometimes come across as brash, which was the furthest from his intentions.

"Ah, I wouldn't say that. I mean, how many kids who need it the most actually go to the guidance counselor willingly? I know I sure as hell didn't. And look at me. Not in prison. Which means, knock on wood, I've broken the Munson family curse. Well, at least part of it. Staying in Hawkins is another piece of it that I need to vanquish somehow," he admitted, crossing his arms as his eyes shifted to the other patrons to make sure they didn't need anything.

He nodded, offering a bit of understanding to her choice in coming back to Hawkins. "You know, that's something that misfits do, actually. I mean, yeah, you were popular in school, but you still have this compulsion to help kids not go through what we went through. That's sort of why I started Hellfire. It helped bridge a social gap for us freaks. Your heart's in the right place, but maybe just...let it happen more organically? You haven't failed here. You're just getting started. Promise," he encouraged, smile flashing with a confident hue.

Eddie rubbed his hand on the back of his neck, considering Chrissy's question. "Yeah, I still do it, I just don't have the time for it like I used to. Since I started running the bar, I have to have someone handle the drinks when I'm playing. Didn't used to be an issue, really, but once that factory opened up this place stays busy. The owner doesn't really have the finances to hire additional staff, so I'm usually able to play some if a couple of my barbacks are here. By the way, you've never taken me up on my offer to come watch me play. As it happens, that invitation still stands." Eddie studied her pensively, silent for a few beats before continuing. "I just meant that I was dumb enough to believe my band would take off and I'd be some famous rockstar or something. Clearly, that is not happening," he laughed to soften the blow of admitting the obvious. "What was life like outside of Hawkins? Was it really so terrible that coming back was the lesser of two evils?" Eddie realized he was prying, but returning to Hawkins when you weren't forced to just didn't compute in Eddie's brain. Not when he was a caged animal gnawing at the bars of his enclosure.

He finished rolling the cigarette, realizing it would be rude to spark up at this point as he set it back down on the coffee table. His hands suddenly felt empty, so he awkwardly clasped them together as Nancy finished her story.

Eddie knew he wasn't the only one in town who heard the news concerning Ms. Wheeler. And while in normal circumstances, he would tell Nancy he couldn't give permission for her to enter Jonathan's room unsupervised while he wasn't there, his heart was twisted toward her plight. He had a feeling her needing to see the photos had something to do with that. And he would certainly support clearing her good name.

"Truth be told, I have no idea where Jonathan keeps his photos in his room. We usually hang in the living room when we're both home. And I feel a little weird about letting you in there by yourself. I'll go with you, okay? I'm just as eager to prove your mom's innocence as you are. I'm sorry about that, by the way," he added, looking over at her with a cautious expression. He rose from the couch, walking a few steps from his seat, lingering a moment to see Nancy had any intention of following.

nancydrewheeler

She nearly opened her mouth in defense, until Nancy remembered that she didn't know where Jonathan kept his photos, either. She could see them in his childhood home, in a folder, neatly stacked in his desk drawer. Maybe they remained there, or moved across the room, or Jonathan had gotten a different desk entirely in the time since they'd both been at the Byers' house. "Of course." Nancy couldn't blame Eddie for looking out for his roommate, and she could use the extra set of eyes to help her look, anyway.

"Thank you," she said as she stood, "for the help, and for … I don't know if condolence is the right word." It wasn't as if her mother had died, or had even gone to jail yet. There was still time to prove her innocence. "She didn't do anything, I mean, I was outside with her the whole time." Maybe not speaking to her mother the whole time, but Nancy could have sworn the only time she'd lost sight of her had been when she'd had a moment to herself in the pantry; a second of reprieve that she'd rather not share with anyone except the woman who'd found her there.

Eddie pushed open the door to Jonathan's room, leaving Nancy in the doorway for a moment. The details might have changed, but the bones remained the same: the comforter she'd slept under, the dresser that used to have a drawer reserved for her. Despite how long it'd been, she could picture herself all over the version of the bedroom that had existed before Jonathan had transported it to his apartment. If she thought on it too long, maybe she would've wished him here, now. "Should we start looking?" Nancy asked finally, breaking from her trance.

Eddie nodded in response to Nancy's thank you, not believing he needed it, but knowing Nancy felt the compulsion to offer. "If it's any consolation, anyone I've talked to about this knows it's all bullshit. Hopefully when they find no evidence of their piss poor theory, they'll shift focus. Preferably to the actual killer, not random citizens who don't even have a criminal record. Then again, they might blame me with my record, or my dad's..." he trailed off, realizing he was talking too much again. However, this fact didn't register from his brain to his mouth, as he continued speaking. "Guess it's a good thing I wasn't there and have a solid alibi is all I'm saying. Though it sounds like your mom does too, so I really don't know what to expect. With any of this. But it's gotta be okay, right? This can't get much traction. If it does, I'll personally lead the revolution," he spoke over his shoulder as they reached Jonathan's door.

Eddie looked around the room, realizing he had no clue where to look first. He figured Nancy would have more of an instinct for this. Not wanting to just stand there while she perused through Jonathan's things, he headed toward his bed, looking underneath it for any boxes of photographs as Nancy started with his desk drawer.

WHAT: Eddie, Jonathan, and Max watch the news together WHERE: Byers-Munson Residence WHO: @eddietheexiled , @thetapehead , and Max Mayfield continued from here

"Yeah I'll take a coffee." Max nodded idly at Jonathan's appearance, focusing in on the TV. Didn't releasing a name this soon potentially impact the investigation as a whole? She snickered to herself as Eddie began ranting and raving. Despite that being totally in character for him, he was right, Hawkins PD were stupid. She crossed to the breadbox on the counter at Jonathan's explanation of toast but no butter, "So you have bread?" Max corrected, pulling out the loaf and lobbing six pieces into the toaster all the same. Jonathan's reaction made her feel like she should be more nervous, worried about the path Mrs.Wheeler was about to face. It all seemed so ridiculous, she was having difficulty even acknowledging it as real. As she was tending the toast, Eddie confessed to Jonathan about Nancy and Max whipped her head around as if this were a soap opera she just so happened to be dropped into, "I'm not looking at you like anything." She shrugged, pinching the toast out and stacking it on a plate, "I think Jonathan should supervise someone going through your room, next." She began to mediate like she knew anything about living with someone other than her Mom. A bite of dry toast crunched into Max's mouth, still chewing as she elaborated, "For fairness."

"Alright, but like... the one ex I have that this situation could even apply to actually tried to light me on fire when I broke up with her, so she couldn't be trusted in my room even while supervised. But yeah, if we can find a fair comparable party, sure. It's not like I asked for this. Blame my post nap haze. I panicked. I didn't know what else to do. Plus, I felt for Nancy. It's gotta be crazy to know your mom is being accused of murder. I think I'd be playing detective too, knocking on every door I thought had a lead behind it."

Eddie narrowed his eyes over to Jonathan, hoping the perspective he shared would significantly alleviate the tension lingering in the air like static. Not that he expected or deserved it. It was all such a bizarre situation. "Look man, I don't know why she didn't just ask you. I've been trying to figure that out since she left. I didn't realize everything ended so badly that she couldn't just talk to you about it."

If the dictionary had pictures, a photo of Eddie Munson would reside next to the definition for "foot in mouth syndrome."

lostinhawkinshq

𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆: 𝐒𝐔𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐓 𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐃 𝐈𝐍 𝐌𝐔𝐑𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐈𝐍𝐕𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍!

After a grueling weekend, Hawkins Police Department has named the first suspect in the murder of Sergeant Sullivan-- Housewife and Divorcee Karen Wheeler. Sullivan's Body was recovered within her home Saturday following the Barbeque. No charges have been made at this point in time and Hawkins P.D asks for the towns continued cooperation in complying with the curfew until the investigation is over. READ THE POLICE INTERVIEW HERE! @femystiq

"It doesn't matter. There's no point in your debate around announcing it, Robin. It's on the news. That's the only breaking news this town is gonna care to hear. What you really need to do is get on there and say what a shit show this all is. That's the real headline," he huffed, his previous friction with Hawkins PD edging to annoyance. Eddie frowned over at Robin when he noticed she moved the candy bowl. However, seeing that she was also compelled to stress eat, he gave her some time to consider the bowl before he reached back over to retrieve more.

You probably can't reach her because she's no longer Nancy Wheeler. She's Nancy Drew," Eddie paused for dramatic effect, waiting until he was satisfied with Robin's impatient look before continuing. "Yeah, she stopped by my place wanting to look through Jonathan's pictures. Asked to go into his room alone. Of course I couldn't let that happen. Bro code and all. So, I escorted her into his room and helped her look through them all. I can't say I blame her. She's on a mission to prove her mother's innocence, obviously. It's sad we can't just blow this off, but it's getting more serious by the day. People go to prison for a lot less is all I'm sayin'.

By the way, the barbecue? I knew nothing about it. But I guess I'm glad I wasn't there or else I would have been the first person to get blamed. Call that divine intervention or some shit," he offered a light laugh now, releasing some of the tension he'd held inside of him since he saw the news. "So, who do you think it was? I mean it's all nuts, right? Who murders a cop in someone's home?"

lostinhawkinshq

WELCOME TO HAWKINS, DUSTIN!

[MICHAEL CIMINO, CISMALE, HE/HIM] who’s that? oh it’s [DUSTIN HENDERSON]. i hear they’re [18] and are known as [THE FAILSAFE] around [RADIO SHACK]. they’re also a [SENIOR] at [HAWKINS HIGH SCHOOL]. they’re known to be [OPTIMISTIC & GOOFY] and [OBSESSIVE & INSECURE]. some people say they remind them of [ pencil stubs worn down from obsessive note-taking, nervous laughter whenever someone gets too close to the truth about how scared he still is, a d20 rolled every morning like a promise & a half-cracked retainer case shoved in the back of his drawer ].

hutch, please send an account into the main within the next 24 hours!

YESSSSSSS!!!

#my dusty bun gahhhh

Hawkins PD: I've seen more investigative efforts made in an episode of Scooby Doo.

Ms. Wheeler? Really?

Even in the face of murder and what Max deemed baseless accusations flung against Karen Wheeler, some things still never changed. She rifled through the kitchen of Eddie and Jonathan's finding herself there out of necessity. She felt a little...complicated going to the Byers house like she normally did when the air conditioning in the trailer went out. Not bad complicated, just the kind of complicated that she didn't feel up to dealing with right now. The complicated that came with whatever she had going on with El. Max's focus fell on Eddie and the TV newscast droning on across from him, "What did you expect? Cops to do their jobs?" She scoffed at the idea, there was no such possibility in her world. She shuffled out of the kitchen, hands on her hips, "Do you and Jonathan have anything, not frozen?"

Jonathan rounded the corner barefoot, rubbing his eyes to shake off the sleep. He’d caught Max’s voice as he wandered into the living area. And then, of course, Eddie … always one comment away from getting flagged by someone in uniform. That’s when he saw the headline. He froze. “Oh, shit.”

“…Do you,” He spoke slowly, gaze only momentarily wandering to Max, not focused. “Do you … want coffee?” He then glanced back at the fridge. “Also, we have like, toast – no butter.”

The Post was probably a zoo right now. Nancy would already be there sharpening knives over her keyboard. The big bosses coordinating interviews with Chief Powell.

Jonathan’s attention flicked back to the TV. This was a mess.

“Have we gotten any calls, Eddie?”

"I'll have some. Might as well be up for the day with all this going on. I'm barely getting any hours at work with the curfew, which is also utter bullshit. Why make a curfew when the murder happened indoors? At a barbeque, no less? Oops, I keep forgetting. I'm asking logical questions when the pd consists of a bunch of bumbling idiots..." Eddie trailed off, realizing he was raving again. He had a sore spot for the local police department for obvious reasons. And others, ones not so obvious to the general public.

Eddie settled back into his usual spot on the couch when Jonathan asked him about phone calls. His face wore the expression of a toddler caught shaving the family dog.

He fought a silent war within. Should he let Jonathan know that Nancy had not only come by, but that he'd willingly let her look through his things in search of photos? All in the name of justice, of course. Had nothing to do with Eddie also being curious about what were in the photos as well. Or that he was desperately trying to piece all of the details together since he wasn't at the barbecue in the first place. This all echoed past events, and maybe current Eddie desperately needed to do what past Eddie hadn't. Figure out what the hell was going on and make sure no one took the fall for something they didn't do. This all involving the Wheelers was just another layer of sentiment that motivated him.

"So um, don't be mad... but I sort of let your ex-girlfriend into your room. I supervised her because of fucking course I would, but..." he trailed off as he studied Jonathan's expression, fully bracing for an earful from him.

"Don't look at me like that," he muttered to Max, whose eyes had grown wider with his omission.

#no it's perfect you're so smart!!!!

lostinhawkinshq

𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆: 𝐒𝐔𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐓 𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐃 𝐈𝐍 𝐌𝐔𝐑𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐈𝐍𝐕𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍!

After a grueling weekend, Hawkins Police Department has named the first suspect in the murder of Sergeant Sullivan-- Housewife and Divorcee Karen Wheeler. Sullivan's Body was recovered within her home Saturday following the Barbeque. No charges have been made at this point in time and Hawkins P.D asks for the towns continued cooperation in complying with the curfew until the investigation is over. READ THE POLICE INTERVIEW HERE! @femystiq

bandnerdbuckley

The tv flicked off just moments after the broadcast ended, across from the screen, Robin sat there, biting at her nails. Karen Wheeler, no way in hell Karen Wheeler killed someone. She was to sweet, atleast from the times Robin had met her. Sure, serial killers are often labeled as “not suspicious” or “friendly” but she had met Nancy and Mike and they were amazing people too. No way was their mother capable of something like this, no way. No doubt her boss would be all over this case to, and he’d insist she’d talk about it.

There was no getting out of this was there? A sigh left Robin’s lips as she turned in her rolling chair and scooted over to her desk, adjusting the microphone and messing with her radio equipment. “Nancy is gonna be so mad at me…” she grumbled. However before she could press record, her eyes darted over to the phone on the wall. “I should probably shoot her a call before anything, I haven’t gotten the call from my boss yet, maybe he doesn’t know.”

Eddie needed a proper yap session. The current events in Hawkins that required "breaking news" bulletins and provoked hushed conversations at The Hideout were hard to ignore. Especially when the main suspect was Mike and Nancy's mother. It felt like he'd entered an alternate dimension, and feelings like that usually provoked unsettling anxiety. Something about feeling untethered to his current reality and being beckoned into another made him feel like he was losing his mind.

He pulled up to The Hawk radio station, knocking on the window that faced the street so Robin could see he was there. Once she let him in, it took all of his self-control to not immediately bombard her with breaking news of his own: that Nancy Wheeler had stopped by the apartment to look at Jonathan's pictures.

He reached into the candy dish that normally rested in her workspace, memorizing its location by heart at this point.

Pulling out a few M&Ms, he popped them into his mouth as he plopped into the seat beside her. "You about to break the news that Karen Wheeler is a cop killer?" he asked sarcastically, rolling his eyes upward in utter disbelief. "Can you believe this shit?"

Eddie wanted to believe her. Really, he did. Nancy Wheeler showing up to their apartment out of the blue asking for some photos? Sure. That could be legit. Stranger things had happened. He should know. But something about it didn’t sit right.

For starters, Nancy didn’t exactly look thrilled to be here. She was seated on the couch like it might bite her, arms crossed so tight they nearly formed a human straight jacket. And yeah, she had that stiffened posture like she was auditioning for the role of “Girl Most Likely to Confront a Crooked Lawyer,” but this was different. Twitchier. Too still and too unsettled at the same time.

Eddie tilted his head. He wasn’t exactly an expert in the subtle art of interpersonal relationships. His last “serious” thing had ended with a broken amp and a tearful mixtape exchange. But even he knew that Nancy and Jonathan weren’t exactly tight these days. He knew because Robin had explained it to him over coffee like she was breaking down Cold War politics. Jonathan had also approached the subject off and on, but Eddie didn't press too much. Then Jonathan came home one day and told Eddie Nancy was not only back in Hawkins, but also working with him. It'd been a whirlwind to say the least. Which is why Nancy coming here to collect something of Jonathan's just didn't make sense. Especially with no warning from him on the matter.

"Nancy, I'm gonna cut to the chase and make this awkward for the both of us. I can ask for your forgiveness later..." he trailed off, beginning the remnants of rolling a cigarette as he spoke. He needed to keep his hands busy through this next portion. "I know Jonathan wouldn't willing send you here for... obvious reasons which I don't need to get into. And if he had planned to send you here in his absence, he would've given me a heads up on account of I sleep during the day before my night shifts at The Hideout. So, why don't you tell me why you're really here, and let's see if I can help?" he finished; eyes locked onto her for a moment before returning his gaze to the coffee table.

He finished rolling the cigarette, realizing it would be rude to spark up at this point as he set it back down on the coffee table. His hands suddenly felt empty, so he awkwardly clasped them together as Nancy finished her story.

Eddie knew he wasn't the only one in town who heard the news concerning Ms. Wheeler. And while in normal circumstances, he would tell Nancy he couldn't give permission for her to enter Jonathan's room unsupervised while he wasn't there, his heart was twisted toward her plight. He had a feeling her needing to see the photos had something to do with that. And he would certainly support clearing her good name.

"Truth be told, I have no idea where Jonathan keeps his photos in his room. We usually hang in the living room when we're both home. And I feel a little weird about letting you in there by yourself. I'll go with you, okay? I'm just as eager to prove your mom's innocence as you are. I'm sorry about that, by the way," he added, looking over at her with a cautious expression. He rose from the couch, walking a few steps from his seat, lingering a moment to see Nancy had any intention of following.

It wasn’t that Eddie didn’t feel that familiar tug of nostalgia every time he walked through the front doors of the Hideout. He did. The place still smelled like cheap beer and half-spilled dreams, and despite the fact that he now stood behind the bar instead of on stage, the memories of Corroded Coffin playing to half-interested drunks clung to the walls like smoke.

These days, the Hideout had changed, just a little. Ever since that factory opened on the edge of town, the once-sleepy dive had gotten louder, rowdier. Eddie didn’t mind. From his perch behind the bar, he had a perfect view of Hawkins at its weirdest—half gossip, half drama, all small-town chaos. And if the place was packed? Even better. A busy night meant the hours flew by, and for Eddie Munson, that was more than enough.

This was not such a night. He'd counted fifteen visitors, but only twelve were paying. Still, buddies who stopped by always got a free round on him. It was one of the only times he socialized these days. Between the bar and playing shows in his down time, he was lucky if he got enough functioning hours of sleep. But the less he slept, the less he had the nightmares. Seemed like a win-win situation to him.

Eddie was balancing on a chair when she walked through the front door. After tending to the other ten patrons, he set his sights on fixing the motor of the overhead fan. It hung above the bar area and prevented his workspace from turning into a sauna. He had to get it fixed by the end of the night. Wiping his brow with a black bandana, Eddie hopped down from the chair and greeted... Chrissy Cunningham? Here? Not that most of Hawkins didn't slum at The Hideout once in a while... but he'd never seen the former Queen of Hawkins High grace its presence. Though he'd only worked here for a little over a year, he'd frequented for much longer. Never running into Chrissy made him certain she made it a habit not to visit.

"Chrissy Cunningham, as I live and breathe," he greeted with his signature grin.

She ordered a pink lady and made herself as comfortable as she could. And yet comfortable enough that she began to open up to him about her job. Eddie heard muffled talks of Chrissy taking the open guidance counselor position at Hawkins, but he didn't much follow after that. Not for lack of curiosity.

Eddie breathed a laugh, glancing down at the glass that Chrissy pushed toward him. "Oh, I usually stick to beer myself," he admitted, amused by the offer. "But you know, you can hang out at a bar without ordering anything alcoholic. I make a mean Shirley Temple if you're interested."

Pausing in consideration of what she'd shared, Eddie fell silent for a brief period. In those moments of contemplation, he noticed the faintest flicker of emotion in Chrissy's eyes. Emotion which communicated that what she was sharing bothered her more than she'd ever let on willingly.

"First of all? they don't hate you, Chrissy. They hate life. It's not always easy being that age. They're floundering and sometimes they attack the life vest instead of using it to stay afloat because they're panicking. But you gotta keep being that life vest, because when they stop freaking out? You'll be the first stability they'll need. Especially if they don't have any at home." He offered her a comforting smile. "So how about that Shirley Temple?"

Eddie's brow furrowed as Chrissy's consistent drip of information switched to a running faucet. He noticed the shift of her body language; poised and composed despite the obvious trembling anxiety resting just below the surface. Before commenting on Lucas, Eddie returned an affirmative nod and soft smile when she mentioned the Shirley Temple. "Absolutely, comin' right up," he replied, turning away from her to prepare the drink.

After adding a special flair (two pink umbrellas and extra cherries with a heavier splash of grenadine) he set the drink in front of her. "One Shirley Temple. You know, rumor has it this is really the liquid courage they talk about. I'm just sayin'. " He rested a beat, with an awkward tap of his knuckles on the worn wooden bar top. "Just keep at it. It takes time for kids to open up and trust. Believe me, I was one of them. I didn't exactly enjoy my trips to the guidance counselor either. But eventually, I opened up a little more. Learned she was just doing her job, and that she actually cared. Just like you do. They'll come around. I promise." Still curious, he inquired "I know you probably can't share exactly what went on during your meeting with Lucas, but if it's something I could help with just let me know." Eddie had a permanently etched spot in his heart for each member of Hellfire, and he felt an allegiance to them. Not to mention his own lack of mentors growing up burdened him with the need to be one himself. Even if his life choices didn't exactly model excellence.

"It's alright, Chrissy. It kind of comes with this job. Plus, I don't mind listening and it's clear you needed to get this all out. Maybe it'll help the next school week go a bit better, anyway."

He exhaled a dry chuckle when she asked if he worked at The Hideout. "Yep, going on a year now. Owner got sick and by that point I'd been playing near weekly shows here for a couple of years. Said he didn't trust anyone else to take it over, and that no one would take care of it like I could. I'm not sure I trust his judgement, but here I stand, and regretfully will most likely remain." Eddie's face spoke contemplation, silent as he considered Chrissy's question. "Let's just say I really didn't expect to still be here four years after graduating. I probably should've known, but I had this Peter Pan naivety that my music would take me far away from here. School was never really my thing. Hawkins is sort of oversaturated with mechanics at this point, though I do some work on the side. I don't know. Maybe I should've left without a plan as soon as I graduated. Maybe that was the key to escaping. Now I'm in the quicksand of sticky bar floors, drunks fighting to be overserved, and peanut shells," he ended, picking up a dish that held discarded shells and emptying it into the trash.

"Which is why the burning question I've had in my mind since you walked into this bar is 'Why the hell did you come back to Hawkins?'" Eddie wasn't trying to be rude. His directness could sometimes come across as brash, which was the furthest from his intentions.

Hawkins PD: I've seen more investigative efforts made in an episode of Scooby Doo.

Ms. Wheeler? Really?

Even in the face of murder and what Max deemed baseless accusations flung against Karen Wheeler, some things still never changed. She rifled through the kitchen of Eddie and Jonathan's finding herself there out of necessity. She felt a little...complicated going to the Byers house like she normally did when the air conditioning in the trailer went out. Not bad complicated, just the kind of complicated that she didn't feel up to dealing with right now. The complicated that came with whatever she had going on with El. Max's focus fell on Eddie and the TV newscast droning on across from him, "What did you expect? Cops to do their jobs?" She scoffed at the idea, there was no such possibility in her world. She shuffled out of the kitchen, hands on her hips, "Do you and Jonathan have anything, not frozen?"

"Nah, it's not that I expected that. But Karen Wheeler? That's out of left field, even for them." Eddie scratched the side of his jaw as he considered what options they had available.

After some shuffling, he pulled out a jar of peanut butter, then jelly. reaching for a half loaf of bread in the bread box, he held the bag by its twist tie. ""PB and J?" he offered, apologetic smirk proceeding his next comment. "My deepest apologies for being more Tommy Lee and less Betty Crocker. Frozen is quick and easy, and for guys that eat out of a cereal box so they don't have to do another dish, I'd say we're lucky we have anything here at all. Wait. I think there's some leftover spaghetti Joyce made for us if you don't fancy a PBJ."

#thank you again!!

This Ain't No Disco @eddietheexiled - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag