one more for the road.

" i've never been here before - but i'm coming back tomorrow - for the real pain. "- DIO. // eddie munson.

[edsmcnson]

  When’s the last time anyone heard anything about EDDIE MUNSON? Old friends remember them as WITTY & ENGAGING  but also OVERLY EMOTIVE & EASILY AGITATED, no wonder they’re still known as THE FREAK around town. Today, in 2006, they are 38 and some people say they remind them of the smell of cheap weed and even cheaper cologne; downsizing your passions to fit into an adapted version of your dreams; bite marks on pencils and an abundance of notebooks filled with lyrics that you didn’t have it within yourself to finish; a hopeless inability to adapt.  

THE ROAD TILL NOW.

tw: death mention / injuries / hospital

I: GROUND ZERO / THE IMMEDIATE AFTERMATH.

Spring break 1986 concluded with a bang. quite literally. Or at least, to Eddie Munson personally, something akin to, well, the biggest bang ever imaginable. A cataclysmic event - his own death. How he had managed to narrowly avoid that fate, Eddie still doesn’t know. What he does know is that somehow, by the grace of whatever gods might loom and linger out there, he’d been granted another shot at breathing.

As fun as breathing and not-being-dead was, it quickly turned out that Hawkins, Indiana wasn’t the best place for the recently traumatized to recover. Someone - Steve, he suspected - must’ve dragged him out of the literal hell beneath Hawkins, because when he came to he’d found himself blinded by fluorescent overhead lighting, hooked up to all sorts of machines and, not to forget, chained to the fucking hospital bed.

Despite the less than ideal circumstances of his recovery, Eddie found some solace in the fact that Hopper, although trying to manage and cope with his own losses, did his best to shield him from the press. The reporters outside the hospital were eventually persuaded to leave, thanks to Hopper’s efforts (well-timed threats). Some shady government officials also paid a visit, and after the public’s demand for answers had dwindled, they’d released a statement, clearing Eddie’s name. Apparently, they’d felt guilty enough to throw in a new trailer for him and Wayne, too, so they could have at least some sort of safe haven to retreat to.

Still weak, but with sufficiently healed wounds, Eddie Munson was discharged and suddenly a free man. But make no mistake - free on paper only. Because when he left the hospital, he was suddenly brutally confronted with the fact that, to the average Hawkins resident, he was still 1) the local drug dealing town freak, 2) the leader of a satan worshipping cult and 3) a fucking murderer. In that order. And so the dirty looks continued to burn into his back, the muttered insults followed him in passing, and nothing, I repeat, nothing had changed. Maybe it was all the pent up rage, maybe something just .. .snapped but either way, Eddie powered through and managed to finally graduate on his third try of senior year. He did as promised: walked the stage, flipped off principal Higgins. Only the running like hell part, that would have to wait until everything had properly healed.

The months went by in a blur. When El and Will’s double funeral rolled around, when his gaze followed as the caskets were lowered to the ground, it was .. for lack of better words a pivotal moment . There was nothing left for him here, was there? His uncle would manage fine on his own, especially since he’d been going on regular coffee dates with that sweet librarian. Eddie was more of a nuisance to him, he was sure. And whatever that weird tension between him and Steve had been, left unresolved post-Vecna and awkwardly fizzling out ever since, it’s just … not enough to keep him in Hawkins. So it’s really an easy decision. A week later Eddie’s van, packed with all the Corroded Coffin equipment, leaves Hawkins, without leaving a note, without saying goodbye, and takes the highway to Chicago.

II: CHICAGO, ROBIN AND THE STONY ROAD TO STARDOM.

Eddie Munson was fully aware that he wasn’t going to become a success story overnight, but he was determined to make it happen. Still haunted by his past traumas, he channeled his energy into his writing, playing guitar, and even experimenting with singing. Taking up odd jobs here and there, dabbling in some dealing if need be, to pay rent and put food on the table. The paying rent part got much easer, however, when a familiar face joined him in Chicago: One Robin Buckley.

Robin brought a sort of light and warmth, a breezy carelessnes, a lust for life previously unimaginable, back into his life. His twenties with Robin in Chicago were the best, it seemed the early nineties were made for them. Going out to bars and clubs where Eddie didn’t need to put a bandana in his back pocket for people to know he was interested in men, playing the odd gig here and there, with moderate success in the local scene. Countless hours spent listening to music as they smoked and chatted away into the night. Life was fucking good, man!

Until, for whatever reason, one foggy morning, reality harshly set in. Maybe his frontal lobe had finally finished developing, but Eddie had untangled himself from the arms of last night’s conquest to get up and reevaluate every choice he’d made in his life so far. How he was working two jobs, as a mechanic and at some gay club’s coatcheck, while claiming he was doing music ‘full time’ and that ‘they were gonna make it big, the world just needed to be ready for them!’ The year was 1996. Eddie was pushing thirty. Corroded Coffin was still playing venues akin to the Hideout. If anything, the world had been ready for metal, like, eight years ago. If anything, the world was getting tired of their sound, and everything was moving into the direction of grunge-y tones. And, if anything, Eddie Munson was getting fucking tired of getting his hard work discarded because ’metal’s just not the vibe anymore, man’. Eddie had promised himself to stay true to his dreams, his passions, the plans he’d made for himself. But so many promises made to him had been carelessly broken. It seemed only fitting that he would break his own, too. So, Eddie got up and proposed a new sound. Most of Corroded Coffin dipped immediately, as to be expected, and so he got to work finding a new band. With him as lead guitar and, for the first time, supporting vocals, he joined a newly formed grunge/alternative rock band called ’Bleach & Burn’, performing music inspired by Nirvana, Pearl Jam, Type O Negative and the like. Not his usual scene, but he could get down to their harder sounds.

Bleach &  Burn, to his surprise, generated moderate success and a cult-like following. Suddenly, Eddie found he was able to quit his coatcheck job, able to support himself with just the mechanics and his music. But it was only a matter of time before the world would evolve, move on, repeat the trend cycle and suddenly, just as they were about to sign their first recording contract, the label pulled out last minute with a word of advice: “People are sick of hard rock. Do something a little more … for the everyday crowd. Something for the radio. Trust me, people are gonna go wild if you go a little more tame.”

This marked a turning point, the make or break - Eddie Munson was a lot of things but he’d been determined not to be a sell-out, not to sacrifice his integrity for feeble attempts at fame and success. But now? Seeing his dream slip by his grasp, when he’d been so close? What the fuck was he supposed to do? And so, after much tossing and turning, Eddie Munson, lead guitarist and supporting vocalist of Bleach & Burn, became lead guitarist and lead vocalist of Cornerstone. And so, in the year 2000, at the ripe age of 32, Eddie Munson became Chicago’s biggest sell-out. But, fucking hell, did it pay off!

III. EDDIE MUNSON’s CLAIM TO FAME.

Who knew sacrificing your sound and your dreams could be so lucrative! Their debut album, after reworking their harder sound into a more radio appropriate, alt-indie-rock beat and getting a second lead-vocalist in the talented Alice Phair, hit the shelves not four months after, somehow becoming an instant success. Chicago’s previously best kept secret spread through the nation like wildfire. Cornerstone played their first national tour in 2001, cruising through the country for a solid five months. And suddenly, Eddie was on stage every night in tight jeans and leather jackets while people screamed his lyrics back at him, feeling like a fucking rockstar. Scratch that, feeling a like a fucking god.

Suddenly, he had everything he thought he’d ever wanted and craved. The recognition he’d been waiting his entire life for. Life felt good, once again. - Or was it, really? He’d never aspired for international success, even surprised when his label had told him some little independent radio station in Finland had played their most recent single. But people, no matter how few, were hearing their music, all over the world. People, no matter how few, all over the world were listening to and enjoying the sound of Eddie’s sacrificed musical integrity.

Again, suddenly, a flip seemed to switch, and Eddie pushed two sleeping groupies off him as he waddled to the front of the tour bus to watch the sunrise. He was living his fucking dream. People adored him. Eddie ’the freak’ Munson had turned into Eddie ’can you sign my tits?’ Munson, posters of his face adorning the walls of America’s alternative youth. But if he had everything he’d ever wanted then why was he so fucking miserable? Why did he cringe whenever he heard a song of theirs on the radio, even going as far as skipping the channel, unable to stand hearing it? He loved, lived and breathed music, but whatever sound they had taken on, he hated it. Hated having to pretend something he was not - he did that oftentimes enough when he’d pose with Alice for a staged PDA picture that could be printed in the tabloids. It wasn’t like he was hiding his sexuality by any means - his label had simply … ’kindly advised’ him to maintain an air of mystery around that subject of his personal life.

Truth was, Eddie yearned to go back to his roots, that early 80s melodic metal sound, that had made him happier than every song on his last, what, three albums? He’d even gone to work writing some songs that fit that genre - but they’d never see the light of day. Only posthumously, if anything. Because he knew the second he’d pitch that idea to his bandmates, or god forbid the label, Cornerstone was good as done. How were they ever going to play another authentic show with the knowledge that their band’s lead fucking hated every minute of it? It was ridiculous. And anyway, Eddie shouldn’t complain about what had been handed to him. He’d never even thought he’d make it this far. So really, he was in no place to complain. He should be fucking grateful.

He tries his best to be. Grateful. Goes on tour after tour, even if he’d rather stay home and never leave his room again, even if he’s fucking exhausted. Dutifully just nods and smiles whenever the label suggests another single, another show, another interview - it’s not even like they’re properly ‘famous’ Eddie thinks, but he doesn’t say anything, never does. Even when some so called ‘music journalist’ has recently in a review called them ‘a delightful mix of Nirvana, The Fratellis, Franz Ferdinand and recently emerged newcomers The Arcitc Monkeys’. He’s been told that it’s a smashing review. Eddie feels a lot like smashing that journalist’s face in.

Eddie’s just finished up a tour, and the past few months have catapulted him to the very brink of .. .something. A cord, maybe, that’s coiled all the way up, ready to snap at the next minor inconvenience. The idea of leaving the band is ever present at the back of his head. Leave Cornerstone to Alice, knowing she’d do an amazing job. Better than him, even, he’s sure. They’re not schedulded to play another show for a couple months, and so when Robin stumbles into his arms, showing him the envelope, it’s really a no-brainer. They’re going. Back to Hawkins.

Eddie hasn’t been back since ‘86. Wayne had always insisted to come to Chicago or visit him in Indianapolis whenever he’d play a show there. Eddie hasn’t been back since ‘86 and he hasn’t seen anyone from … back then since ‘86. Hasn’t been keeping in contact much, either. Still, Joyce Byers had been one of the sweetest souls to ever walk this earth, had shown him nothing but kindness the brief times he’d run into her. And some time in Hawkins, away from the bustling city life, away from the music and the shows and the whole fucking business - who knew, maybe a change of scenery would do him good. Eddie’s willing to try about anything to get a brief respite from the life he’s built for himself.

EDDIE’S PINTEREST: https://www.pinterest.co.uk/edsmunson/eddie-munson-2electric-boogaloo

[bubblegumpcp-deactivated2023082]

Being in an actual search party was something that terrified her. What if they found a body? What if she found a body? What if it was Luke's body? Then what would she do? But it was something that must be done. Ever since Luke went missing she felt a terrible need to help out. So she did all she could manage. No child should be missing. Every child belonged safely at home in their bed with their parents nearby.

And of course she got distracted. Of course she lost the group. Brows dropped into a frown as she realized nobody was near anymore. How long had she been checking out this fallen tree? "Hello?" she called, wondering how this could've happened. No one answered and she started to panic. Sarah was pretty familiar with Hawkins but her navigation skills were terrible and she never went into the woods by herself. "Hello?!" she called out again after getting no reply, this time her voice rattled with anxiety. Eyes grew doe-y and she swallowed thickly. Gosh, is this how all these people got missing? Did it all start in the woods?

"No--- no, no no.." she muttered, eyes darting about, desperate to find someone, anyone, around. And then she heard a twig break to her right and the immediate doom-scenario that crossed her mind made her gasp before she even saw who was approaching her. A breath of relief came from her as she realized it wasn't the mass murderer kidnapper she had expected.

....

No, it couldn't be because Eddie was with Mike when Luke went missing. And Eddie didn't kill Chrissy. She had to keep reminding herself of these facts. A palm pressed to her heart. "Thank god it's you. For a moment I thought I was going to be next.

@edsmcnson

[edsmcnson]

*

eddie scoffed, cursed as he tripped and stumbled over a piece of rock, nearly loosing his footing. branches snapped into his face left, right and center, and in the impending darkness every wayward tree looked like a person, or to eddie more like a monster straight from hell. and once again, as he glanced down at his watch and groaned, he wondering how he’d let himself be roped into being part of a search party for luke wheeler. the whole thing felt so eerily reminiscent of will byers’ disappearence which, as he’d been told, has sort of kicked off this whole ‘there’s a dimension under this random indiana town that we  just happen to live in’ - bussiness. and so, naturally, eddie hadn’t been eager to be a part of it again. in fact, as much as he wanted to support mike, he’d played with the ideaof simpyl .. upping and leaving. going back to chicago, spending all his time at the studio to forget he ever came back to hawkins in the first place.

and yet, here was. frustratedly kicking gravel as he made his way through the forest. in the end he supposed it was wayne who had kept him from leaving. he knew just as well how severe of a grudge some members of the town still harbored against eddie and he’d suggested that by making an effort, maybe some of those people could be persuaded that eddie wasn’t as guilty as they thought he was. or at least that he didn’t have anything to do with luke wheeler’s disappearance. and eddie had to admit that it ... well, it made sense. it was a genius idea, even, and he’d briefly wondered if he shouldn’t just fire his pr manager, hire wayne instead.

then, of course, there was the thing with his own cowardice, a problem eddie had struggled with forever. despite nearly losing his life in the upside down for dustin, the fact that he was quote unquote ‘nooo hero’ had remained. when it came to fight or flight, eddie would always choose flight, if he couldn’t just detach himself from the situation completely, of course. so maybe it was his guilty conscience nagging at him, pressuring him to do the right thing at once, that had led to eddie getting lost in the fucking woods while searching for mike’s missing son.

he’d managed to lose the rest of thr group pretty soon and so, when he heard a frightened call of ‘hello?’ he hadn’t hesitated to make his way towards the sound. in hindsight, had he been alert enought to figure out who the voice belonged to, eddie probably would’ve rather just spent the night in the forest.

“it’s you.”, no need to keep with the formality or flattery, eddie didn’t need or want to ‘thank god’, even if it was just a figure of speech. if it had been, say, max or even steve he’d stumbled upon then, sure, maybe he would’ve thanked god! but not when it was sarah kline. eddie pointedly exhaled through his nose, snapped a branch on his way to her. he scoffed. “and leave you here to pin your murder on me? no way, not falling for that cheap trick.” voice thick and dripping with sarcasm, he looked around, scanned their surroundings. the deserted woods. the deserted woods around not only eddie but also sarah, which could only mean - “oh, fuck, don’t tell me you lost the group, too.”

[edsmcnson]

stevehharringtcns·:

the last person that he had least expected to show up at his door at that hour was eddie munson. well, scratch that, the last person he expected to show up at his door would be someone like the president of the united states, but steve was pretty surprised to see eddie on the other side of the door. the two hadn’t been exactly close over the years, steve only getting certain news about eddie from robin. not even before that they had been close. they had shared a couple of moments that confused steve, remembering the conversations that they had in the upside down - even if it was a bit foggy, since twenty years had passed since then. and after that, eddie had left and steve barely had any contact with him, if any at all. steve wasn’t sure why he had decided to show up at his door, of all people. there was max, lucas… even dustin, even if he had heard about their falling out, only knowing it from dustin’s side.

steve watched as the man did some sort of bow and he was immediately confused. “oh, uh… yeah, sure, right, come on in.” steve was sure that his brain was still half asleep from his small nap earlier, but he watched as eddie walked into his apartment. it was a mess, but steve decided that he would clean it up when he actually had some time for it and he wasn’t tired. “right… why would there be anything related to the upside down?” he asked, frowning a bit. in his head, that had been solved all those years ago, when him, robin and nancy had shot vecna until he was dead. a memory that still played in his head, even after all those years. he felt a shiver going down his spine as he thought about the possibility of it returning - but was it really out of the picture? things had been weird for a while, ever since joyce’s funeral. there were the nails in his bed, which he hadn’t assimilated yet… but he decided not to think about. just as he decided to not think about luke still being gone. they were going to find him eventually.

focusing his attention back on eddie, he nodded his head slowly as the man explained his situation, a soft smile on his face. he wasn’t about to turn him away. plus, it would be nice to catch up with eddie, if he was up to it. they had been encountering each other more and more often, which was a given considering they hadn’t seen each other in years. “of course you can stay here. i don’t have an extra room though, but… the couch will do just fine.” he said, motioning towards the couch and then his eyes widened at the sight of ford’s toys spread out all over the couch, only the spot where he had been sitting in being free. “right, right, i’ll just clean that up.” he said as he moved over to the couch and got rid of all of the toys, before he turned back to eddie, his face slightly red from embarrassment.

“are you alright? you look like you’ve seen a ghost?” he asked, raising an eyebrow as he held onto one of his kid’s plushies and waved it in front of eddie. “if you want you can cuddle mr. cuddles, but i think you’ll have to give it back to ford once he’s home.” he said, a soft chuckle escaping his lips.

*

eddie pressed his lips together into an awkward yet grateful smile, pushing past steve into the apartment. gaze trailing around the room as he got his bearings, something in his heart painfully tightened at the way it all struck him as so ... so quintessentially steve. he had a hard time tearing his eyes from all the clutter, the pictures, the little things that screamed harrington. as pathetic as it was, eddie didn’t have the heart or the strength to stop his thoughts from momentarily wandering off into the little corner of his head where, carefully locked up, were the remainders of an infatutation he’d harbored for the last twenty years. a crush he just couldn’t bring himself to let go of. then again, wasn’t that just the thing with unrequited love? that yearning, that hopeful hopelessness, that never quite left you, did it?

he cleared his throat, shoved his hands into his pocket, unsure what else to do with them. eddie turned back around to face steve, now deciding that hands in pockets was a bad look, so instead he opted to clasp them together, flex his fingers, ball his hands into fists. the very picture of nervousness. “uh... i dunno. i mean, if - well, don’t take this the wrong way, harrington, but given that we weren’t exactly, well, chums post-vecna, if i woke up to see you turn up on my doorstep in the middle of the night ... my first thought would be monster related, i guess.” or dream related. daydream fantasy related. he wasn’t going to deny it, the thought that, if things had gone even slightly different back then, steve and him could’ve actually turned out to be buddies - or, heaven forbid, something .... more, even - gnawed at him almost constantly. more so now that he found himself back in such close proximity to steve. more so now that twenty years had passed and steve was a fucking father and eddie barely had his life together.

thankfully steve spoke again and ripped eddie out of his spiraling thoughts. “i - are you sure? you’re, you’re really ok with letting me stay here?” why was he surprised? steve had always been one of the kindest motherfuckers eddie had ever known, even if, back then at least, steve had made a big deal about denying how ... how great he actually was. still, given the reaction he got from some townspeople, someone offering him shelter came as a nice and much needed surprise. “uh - thanks, man! seriously. i appreciate it. the couch’s gonna be awesome!” he moved to where steve was cleaning up his kid’s clutter and traced a hand along the fabric of the sofa. “i mean, holy cow! that might just be the nicest fucking couch mine eyes have ever had the pleasure to behold! pray tell, where hast thou purchased such a fine ... uh .... shit, i don’t know the shakespear-y word for ‘couch’.”

eddie grinned, well, did as much grinning as he could muster up, hoping it would be enough to inspire a smile of steve’s in return. “am i alright? shit... that might just be the question of the hour, stevie.”, eddie huffed a humorless chuckle, plopped down on the couch with a big exhale. “it’s... nothing, honestly. it’s just, i’m just overreacting. it’s -” gnawing on his bottom lip for a moment, eddie seemed to weigh the pro’s and con’s of confiding to steve in his head. but it was late, and he was fucking exhausted, so why not. “it’s this town. everywhere i go, i see ... well, you know.” he gave him a look. “i drive through town and it’s not, like - i drive past the trailer park and it’s not ‘just’ the trailer park anymore. it’s the spot where... where she - uhm. yeah. you.... you get me, right?” this time only a timid glance back at steve, hoping that the other’s expression read something along the lines of ‘i get you, and i feel the same’. 

eddie huffed, sank further into the back of the couch as he felt a wave of tension leave his body. “it’s like noone wants to admit they’re fucking messed up after everything happened. but i can’t be the only one who’s -” he cut himself off, waved it off and shrugged. “ah, whatever. don’t mean to bore you with my stuff, harrington. thanks for the asylum.” throwing him as warm of a smile as he could muster up, eddie did a double take at the plushie before plucking it out of steve’s hands, pulling it close to his chest. “so, where’s your offspring tonigh? i gotta say he has excellent taste in teddy bears. mr. cuddles sure lives up to his name.”

[edsmcnson]

courtroomphilosopher·:

There was something particularly sad about getting drunk in a hotel room. Cole was no stranger to sad– or pathetic or self-loathing, or whatever word people wanted to pathologize him with– but drinking alone back home wasn’t sad like this. Max could drop by any given day (and often did), and on days she didn’t, at least Cole had big windows and a view of the city. But here, at the not-quite-shitty motel-claiming-it’s-a-hotel, Cole’s view of the parking lot made him feel worse than cheap whiskey could cover. Plus, the parking lot needed to be repaved, desperately.

So Cole found himself trudging– on foot, mind you– to the neighborhood bar he’d found last night. God, how depressing would it be to be a regular here? But, he justified it with the thought that maybe Max would show up eventually. Max, who had successfully dodged him for the last day and a half– not that he was particularly surprised. She always liked being hard to find, interacting only with who she wanted to when she wanted to.

Tonight, Cole sprung for an old fashioned. He didn’t have the heart to send it back, even though it was… well, not great. It was only incentive for him to drink it faster, though, and by the time the stranger approached him, Cole had swapped the cocktail for a whiskey neat. He was nursing his initial sip, relishing the way it burned going down, when a long-haired alternative looking guy approached him with a grin. God, for a minute, it felt like he was back home.

Cole couldn’t help the twitch of his lips, an amused smile settling on his face as he listened to the guy stumble over his words. He was lost for a moment, crinkling his brow and following the other’s gaze to his back pocket… where he’d tucked his pocket square after he’d used it to lose the shitty old fashioned’s aftertaste. Flagging. Cole couldn’t help his chuckle, intentionally taking a long sip of his drink as if he was thinking it over. Trying to make him sweat.

“You do know it’s 2006, right?” he asked, finally, locking eyes with the other. “Do people do that anymore?” Cole paused another beat and took a drink, trailing a finger idly around the mouth of his glass. “Is this place really so stuck in time?”

*

this wasn’t what eddie had expected. completely opposite from how it was supposed to go down - eddie approaches his subject, usual charm and grin and .. .well,even if he did stumble over his words occasionally, the fact that he was an internationally acclaimed rockstar helped. that and the fact that usually, the people he approached had been cheering front row at the concert. so, it was safe to say eddie hadn’t needed to approach someone in the wild in, like, ages. and if he did, it usually ended with an over-excited groupe throwing himself at him, followed by mostly okay-ish sex. 

he wasn’t going to lie, going from someone who had gotten no action in his teens to suddenly being the object of desire of hundreds of people had, while giving him quite the ego boost at first, soon taken a toll on some of the excitement of it all. if he took someone backstage after a show it was rarely because he was super into it, more as a means to an end. so this, this situation right here in the fucking hideaway, in fucking hawkins, had taken him off-guard in the most delicious way. the guy was taking his sweet time, making him wait for it. making him nervously play with the rings on his fingers until he caught himself doing it.

it was humiliating, in a way, at the same time? thrilling. the thrill of the chase or whatever. eddie bit down on a grin, gave him a shrug. “as far as hawkins is concerned you stepped right back into ‘86.” in more ways than one. eddie was more than aware of the dirty looks burning into his back. less than in downtown hawkins, the people frequenting the hideaway were often more concerned with their own wrongdoings than other people’s supposed. and yet, eddie had clearly sensed it while stepping inside. the few souls in here who would love nothing more than to beat him senseless right in the middle of the bar. who, looking at him, didn’t see the person eddie had worked so hard to be, but rather that scrangly nineteen-year-old with the wild mop of hair, hellfire shirt, denim vest, blood on his hands. exclaiming that 86 was going to be ‘his year’.

but the past was the past, or so eddie tried to tell himself as he took a sip of his drink. “i assume you’re not flagging, then. but i think you still answered my question.” there was a sparkle in his eye as eddie, without waiting for an answer, sat down opposite the other. knees almost shaking, eddie felt pathetic - this was just sitting down and talking! not a risky move! keep it together!

he cleared his throat, almost choking on a cough. “what brings you to this particular corner of hell, if i may ask?”

[edsmcnson]

who: eddie & @courtroomphilosopher​​

what: is it the 80s again?

where: the hideaway (where else tbh)

if being back in hawkins had taught eddie one thing, it was that almost dying in a supernatural dimension was apparently not something one could just work through in therapy. even over the course of twenty fucking years. not that eddie had kept up with his sessions much these last months. scratch that, these last years, too busy with being miserable living his dream life. it had also taught him that this town still blew.

and that he needed to get out of there, stat. he’d initially driven to the hideout, that piece of junk corroded coffin had played in a couple times in their prime, but had quickly come to find it boarded up, an eviction notice taped to the door with police crime scene tape. not that it surprised him much, it had been pretty crappy, even in the golden age of seedy crappy bars. 

so where was there left to get a drink but the hideaway? the only place to get something to drink, really, if you didn’t want to sit on the hood of your car with a six pack of beer like some freshly graduated jock loser. yes, he was thinking of tommy hagan specifically, but that was another thing. eddie needed to be among people, people that weren’t his suffocatingly loving almost-step-aunt and uncle. people that were just as much of a mess as he was. what better place than the only bar left in hawkins. nobody respectable would choose to have their shameful drink there, much less on a week night.

three senses hit him first when he walks through the door. one - smell, obviously, always smell at the hideaway, that one hasn’t changed since the first time he flashed his fake i.d. to the bartender. the second - sight , as his eyes zero in on an unfamiliar face sitting on a bar stool in the corner. his eyes travel down the stranger’s form and unavoidably eddie’s gaze stops on the piece of fabric dangling from the other guy’s back pocket. no fucking way. it ties into sense three, which, well, it’s more of a ... a sentiment his body expresses suddenly, with an urgency that nearly overwhelms him. telling him that holy hell, eddie needs to get laid. like, yesterday.

no wonder he’s been so tense since arriving in hawkins, there’s been no shenanigans to ease up the tension from all the crazy happening around him. mostly due to a lack of options. and here was his golden ticket to salvation. ugh, too cheesy. anyway. 

eddie truly felt like the hottest piece of action in the joint, as if there was a fan pointed on him and everything was happening in slow motion as he casually got himself a drink and made his way across the bar, ignoring everyone around him but him.

he knew it was stupid to even ask - but ... well, he was also in indiana. in the middle of nowhere, indiana, to be exact, and everything around him seemed to be stuck in the 80s. so it was worth a shot. eddie cleared his throat, flashed the other a grin when he got his attention. “uh... so, you can, like, totally tell me to get lost if not but ... shit i’m - i’m just gonna ask, are you flagging? by any chance?”

[edsmcnson]

stevehharringtcns·:

who: steve harrington & @edsmcnson·· where: steve harrington’s apartment

having the night all to himself was a blessing that he didn’t know that he was going to miss so much. in his younger years, being alone meant that he would throw a big pool party at his place, have friends over and just drink until they were passed out drunk. now? having ford at his mother’s place for the night just meant that steve could get some sleep and actually rest for once. he was thankful for all of the people around him that helped him out with the kid, or else he would have gone crazy. who would have thought that having a kid would be this hard? he should have seen it coming after years of chasing after dustin, lucas, mike… and the others, that he couldn’t even imagine thinking about right now. steve took a seat on his couch, a beer in his hand and the remote on the other, turning on his tv and putting on the game. he had barely been following this season, not only because of ford, but also because of the disappearance of luke wheeler. it had taken some sort of toll on him and it made him think about what mike was going through. the kid was a good kid, even if he liked to talk back. but steve had grown used to it and now he was worried about it. but he decided to leave those thoughts until he was out in another search party - hopefully the next one would be successful. his mind drifted a bit as he stared at the tv, not really paying that much attention at this point. he could feel himself drifting off to sleep. he was sure that he had fallen asleep when he heard a knock on the door. steve opened his eyes and looked around, making sure that he wasn’t asleep. maybe it had been part of his dream, but he didn’t remember dreaming… and that’s when he heard another knock on the door. letting out a soft groan, he pushed himself off the couch and placed his beer bottle on the table, as he made his way towards the door and swung it open. seeing eddie on the other side shocked him, so he frowned. “eddie! what, uh… what are you doing here? is everything okay?” he asked, feeling his mouth going a bit dry.

*

as much as his uncle and lori had insisted that it was no bother to have him stay with them, that, in fact, it was a delight to have him around, especially since they only saw him on rare occasions, eddie could see the strain his presence put on the both of them. their place, despite being a significant upgrade from that shitty trailer wayne and eddie had spent the first nineteen years of his life in, was already pretty small as is. with eddie and all his baggage, both emotional and physical luggage, it didn’t take long for the bungalow to get croweded. stuffy, even, with no way to air out all the pent up trauma eddie had brought along, or all the love and affection his uncle and his wife were trying to offer him, which he just couldn’t find it within himself to accept.

plus his image around the town, certain townspeople. it would be difficult for anybody, and the last thing eddie wanted was for lori and wayne’s relationship to take a toll because of him. so, he did what any responsible nephew would do, prepare a nice romantic candlelight dinner in the kitchen, pack all the essentials into a worn-out crossbody bag, throw that into the back of his car and speed off into the night, to grant the two of them a little much needed space. god knows eddie needed it , too. 

he’d popped the first of many tapes into his car’s old radio, the sisters of mercy’s iconic album ‘flood’, as he began his aimless driving around the town. driving had always calmed him down, he didn’t know why. maybe his parents had taken him into the car when he was a baby, so the humming of the motor would calm him down and put him to sleep, he couldn’t be sure, he barely remembered anything about them, after all. or at least he chose not to.

but if you’re busy supressing one unpleasant memory, another is bound to surface, and soon enough eddie found himself gripping the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white, clenching his jaw so hard it was borderline painful as he was suddenly plagued by unwanted flashbacks. memories, like visions, of the time immediately following their defeat of vecna. so, reall, it was, like ... flashbacks of flashbacks, of his near brush with death in the upside down. being chained to a hospital bed, confronted with the death of so many, most of whom people thought you were responsible for.

it was the album that triggered it, wayne had brought it to the hospital and for a solid while, that was the only possession eddie had been allowed to have. while he was still officially the prime suspect of a murder investigation and all. ‘flood’ was irrevocably tied to a lifetime of trauma and of fucking course, it was just eddie’s luck that, when he aggressively tried to hit the eject button, it feel right off. the tape now stuck in the radio, his trauma forever on loop. “motherfucker - are you fucking kidding me right now? are you fucking kidding -”

eddie cut himself off as his car came to an abrupt halt, slamming the steering wheel a few times, only stopping when he accidentally hit the horn a little too hard. “shit. for fuck’s sake.” he really had no choice here. eddie pulled over to the side of the road, grabbed his bag and locked his car. he couldn’t drive all the way back with that stupid tape stuck in there - every song made the cluster of scars on his stomach ache more and more - but ... could he walk home? it was too late for a bus. cab’s weren’t exactly an availabilty in buttfuck, indiana and... well, with so many people still blaming him for shit he wasn’t even fucking convicted of !!!! eddie wasn’t gonna take his chances of walking home. it was too far anyway.

so, begrudgingly, he rang the only doorbell that had a familiar name next to it. “harrington! hey there... uh, long time no see, huh. uh...uh, my liege. i humbly request entry into the kingdom of - ah, fuck it.” already half-committed to an extravagant bow, eddie stopped himself mid sentence and got back up, dragging a hand down his face. seeing the look on steve’s face, however, he quickly straightened up. “shit! uh, yeah, yeah, man. everything’s fine. no freaky upside down shit, i should’ve - should’ve cleared that up right away. sorry.” stupid. if steve had showed up on his doorway in the middle of the night looking disheveled, eddie would’ve expected the worst too. which in this case meant monsters and shit. alternatively, eddie would’ve thought he was dreaming but that all depended on whether or not steve was declaring his love for him and ripping off his shirt soon after.

“i ... my car, like, broke.” he shrugged. wasn’t really a lie, was it? “this is super weird and you can totally say no but - could i, like, crash here?”

[princesconsuela]

my two moods

[danielslaw]

SAM CLAFLIN AS BILLY DUNNE DAISY JONES AND THE SIX: TRACK ONE "put mick jagger in a line up, and a person's who never heard of the rolling stones could still point to jagger and say, that one, he is the rockstar. billy dunne had that in spades."

[edsmcnson]

PLAYER, THE FOLLOWING INFORMATION IS TOP SECRET AND NOT TO BE SHARED WITH ANY PLAYERS IC OR OOC FOR THE NEXT WEEK! YOUR CHARACTER, HOWEVER, MAY ALLUDE TO WHAT THEY ARE ABOUT TO EXPERIENCE. FOR THE NEXT WEEK, THEY MAY EXPERIENCE INCREASED PARANOIA, EXTREME MISTRUST, FLASHBACKS, NIGHTMARES, SORE THROAT, AND RESTLESSNESS. WELCOME HOME!

In times of trouble, you find yourself picking up your guitar. There’s not much more troubling than being back in a town that still hates you. After tossing and turning, you push yourself out of the blankets, sit up, and scoot down to the end of the bed where you can reach out and grab your guitar. As you idly began to pluck at the strings, the window caught your attention. There wasn’t necessarily anything to see out there, the swaying curtains mostly obscured your view, but you just felt like you should look, almost like someone was looking at you. You suck in a deep breath and shake your head, thinking you shouldn’t let this town get to you. Shifting away from the unease, you begin to try and play a tune of the latest song you’ve been working on, but every chord comes out discordant and wrong for reasons beyond your understanding. You gradually become more frantic, strumming so desperately to get the right sound to come out your fingers begin to bleed. 

[bubblegumpcp-deactivated2023082]

She had not made a lot of friends at the funeral. Heck, most of the attendants seemed close to despise her. Had she behaved prissy perfect in response? No. But how could she possibly have done so when being pushed like that. It was not an excuse, though. Sarah had enough self-reflection to understand that even she had a part in all of this. But she could definitely do without the judgement. Something that had only seemed to have enlarged since the funeral. Nostrils flared as she huffed in frustration at another glance. She was fed up.

"It strikes me that there is a considerable amount of bullshit going on here and there's just a few things I'd like to clear up: It's not my fault that my dad is lousy, okay? It surely isn't my fault that he caused that scandal and the sooner you get over that piece of soap opera, the better off we're both going to be. And I don't happen to fit the role of sneaky, insensitive, rich girl --- you've all been trying to lay that crap on me ever since it happened and it's not a look I am going to wear!" she inhaled, chest heaving in the process, stepped back and swallowed as she straightened her jacket, feeling like her point had been made. She straightened her posture and said in softer tone: "I don't deserve this."

;; open ( for those looking for a bit of drama 0,0 )

[edsmcnson]

“i see we’re airing out our grievances ... if i may offe ra humble grievance myself -” eddie stopped himself, shook his head as if he was trying to shake off the theatrics. no -  he may have stormed off after their previous interaction, too overcome by the sudden weight of grief of a friendhsip with chrissy that had never been. too shaken by the full body tremors of a approaching panic attack. resurfacing trauma sure was a fun thing! of course, eddie had known that coming back to hawkins would be triggering. he’d underestimated just quite how shaken he would be. “let me put it in your terms: it’s not my fault this whole degenerate town had nothing better to do than play a few rounds too many of cluedo, that they were all unable to let go of this juicy piece of murder mystery that they’re so determined to solve twenty goddamn years later. and it sure as shit isn’t my fault that, apparently, your way of letting out all that pent up rage and grief is to blame me for something that i didn’t fucking do.” 

eddie’s voice was trembling now, and he narrowed his eyes in an attempt to supress the telltale hot prickle there. flexing his hands to relieve some of the tension in his body without having to either punch something (or someone) or just ... simply break down. he hissed a little at the nearly forgotten wounds on his fingers, shook his head again as if he could discard the pain like that. “listen, i don’t know if you ever heard of fight or flight, missy, but i used to be all about the flight. not anymore, alright? now if someone attacks me i’ll attack right back, and i don’t care if it’s not a good look! really, i couldn’t care less! just like i don’t give a rat’s ass about your fucking father, and whatever fucked up shit he did with the russians or whatever. let him be a commie, for all i care! i - i - jesus h. christ!” his heartbeat was bordering on a heart attack, and eddie unknowingly clutched his chest. panting.”i wouldn’t even have fucking talked to you in the first place, much less ‘picked on you’ or whatever you think it was, if you hadn’t brought up that whole ... ‘oh, i’m scared of you, chrissy was my friend’” 

his voice has cracked halfway through chrissy’s name and eddie, unable to look at sarah anymore, pushed past her onto the front porch, lighting up a stress cigarette. “point is - i am not your fucking scapegoat, sarah. you got it? i didn’t do whatever the fuck you think i did. don’t blame shit on me because it’s convenient, when you don’t even know half the fucking story.”

a drag from his cigarette, eddie was pacing up and down the steps, as if that would calm him down. all it did was grind his gears even more, breath coming out in gasps. “you say you don’t deserve this? well, me neither. so i’m sorry that everyone singled you out today, but you can rest assured that i’ll come and snatch that position back from you come tomorrow. ‘town freak’, remember?”

a beat passed where ddie stood with his back to her, neck craned to look up at the sky. deep breath in, and out. in, out. five things he can see ... the porch. the gravel, a car. chrissy’s broken limbs hanging from the ceiling. a tree. “listen, i can guarantee that nobody gives as much of a shit as they pretend to. it’s an emotional day. people get ... emotional! i know you’re not whatever fucked up shit your dad did. but i’m not whatever fucked up shit the fucking hawkins neighbourhood watch i did, either. so let’s all cool it on the fucking prejudice, maybe .”

[edsmcnson]

stevehharringtcns·:

steve didn’t know how to feel about seeing eddie for the first time in… how much time had passed? he couldn’t be sure, but steve knew that it had been a couple of years ever since he had heard from him. or even seen him. everything he knew about him was from what he saw on the news and from robin, whenever he spoke with her. other than that, the two didn’t keep in touch. it wasn’t like they necessarily had a reason to get keep talking after everything that had happened. they had defeated vecna, even if there had been some casualties and then everyone had gone their own way. steve was sure that eddie had been the first one to do that, to leave. maybe he had been the wisest of them all, but steve couldn’t be sure of that. steve liked his life in hawkins, or at least, that’s what he told everyone he encountered. 

he was shocked that he could recognize the other immediately. even if he wasn’t famous, steve knew that he would be able to recognize him from a mile away. he was sure that it was the hair, or something familiar about his face. as he heard eddie’s explanation about why he was there, he nodded his head slowly as he pursed his lips. “seems like everyone is coming back for the funeral. kind of a shitty reason to come back here.” steve said, a small sigh escaping his lips as he kept his eyes on eddie. he felt his ears turn slightly red when eddie asked him if he was in town for the funeral too. it was weird to him to think about leaving hawkins now, but maybe it would have been for the better if he had. it was too late now. “good to see you too.” he said with a nod. “but, uh… no, i still live here. i was just getting some baby food for, uh…” he said, motioning towards ford that was behind him, being loud inside of the car. he had found a toy in the backseat and was now playing with it… at least he was distracted or something.

seeing eddie peek behind him to see what it was, steve took a step to the side so the other could take a better look. he assumed that not everyone had heard about what had happened two years ago and that he was now a single dad. but it turned out that spending four years taking care of some kids who seemed to get in trouble had made something grow in him. he knew that it was probably cheese to think that, so he didn’t say it out loud. “oh, right…” he said as he looked over at ford, placing a hand on his head and then looked back at eddie, a half smile on his lips. “this is ford, my son.” he said, ruffling the kid’s hair as he  turned back to look at eddie. now that he thought about it, ford had a set of hair that reminded him of his own when he was younger. he was called ‘the hair’ for a bunch of years for a reason.

“i’m surprised that you came back, i thought you’d be busy with… the band and all of that. i have to say, i’ve become quite a fan of the music you play. i didn’t think that would happen.” steve said with a small chuckle escaping his lips, as he stood there awkwardly. he wasn’t sure if he should leave or if he should invite eddie over - which would be weird considering the two had never really hung out alone. not that steve could remember anyway.

-

yeah, definitely a shitty reason to come back for. but also, like, the only reaosn eddie could accept. that and, well, a medical emergency in the family, maybe. a wedding, too. though he doubted he’d be invited to any, certainly not any in hawkins. a nauseating guilt suddenly made his stomach drop as he thought of those wedding invites that had landed in his mailbox the last years. cordially invited to the nuptials of dustin henderson and .... fuck, he couldn’t even remember the girl’s name. names - he’d been married twice, right? he’d read the invites, had spent nights laying awake torn on what to do, before the cards would wander into what eddie lovingly called his ‘henderson  box’. full of unanswered letters, pandora’s box, filled with guilt and nightmares. 

some foolish part of him had subconciously held onto the hope that, maybe, if he returned, he’d find everything the way he’d left it. the judging, close-minded townspeople, those were a bother, sure, but also ... his friends. hellfire club. just everything as it had been, without the crazy, the paranormal. he’d half expected to roll into town and be stopped by dustin, mike and lucas, frozen in time, waving him over to where they prepared the next hellfire campaign in the drama room. after that maybe harrington would’ve been kind enough to let them all hang out at his place, eddie would’ve headbanged to the latest dio, played the air guitar to metallica and shot his shot by winking at steve. all normal, all fine. all how it should’ve gone, how it was supposed to be, before will and el -

eddie cleared his throat, snapped himself out of his thoughts. there would be enough time to wallow in self-pity and the past under the covers tonight. a beat passed, eddie put on a smile again, looked back up at steve. steve, who had never left. steve, who, even twenty years later, still had that crooked smile that had made eddie failed three years of p.e. class.

“ford harrington, huh?” now there was something robin had apaprently forgotten to mention. steve harrington, king steve, now father of a young boy. eddie couldn’t help but smile, even if there was a little twitch in his chest he couldn’t ignore. he had to admit, parenthood suited steve. and he looked so postively paternal, paternal and endlessly proud, it was ... almost tough to watch. was having kids something eddie had ever wanted? not really, since his birth parents hadn’t exactly been the  template for good parenting. and by now it was probably too late, anyway. “gotta say, that name has a ring to it. did you or, uh, the missus pick it?” though what eddie really wanted to ask was: ‘is this child in the backseat the spawn of you and one nancy wheeler?’

the mention of his music made him cringe a little, eddie tried to play it off with a shrug, shoving his hands into his pockets. “well, guess i’ve accomplished everything i ever wanted to do, then. steve harrington listens to my music! gotta call the band real quick, cancel the next tour.” all said in jest, though, truthfully, there was nothing more eddie would’ve loved than to cancel the next tour. cancel the whole band, for all he cared, he just wanted out. “nah, i took some time off. so, uh ... how’ve you been? what’s, what’s been going on with you, harrington?”

[edsmcnson]

edsmcnson·:

“exquisite?” max said with a faux gasp. she proceeded to “genuinely” ask, “and can you spell that, eds?” and once she’d gotten the confirmation, she started walking down the street in the direction of hideaway. she hadn’t really let herself think about how she felt in hawkins. everything that had happened there was a wound that had long been sewn shut, the only problem was, max never took the stitches out, never fully healed, and now wasn’t going to be the time she opened that can of worms. a surge of anxiety coursed through her and max had to suck in a breath. she disguised her nerves by clapping her hands together, “oh don’t be so sure you can outdrink me.” while to a passing stranger it might’ve looked like a fool’s competition, no real winners, max was relieved her and eddie could find a sliver of fun amidst an otherwise horrific situation.

as they arrived at the hideaway, max stopped in the doorway, eyes flicking across the room, immediately shocked at how many old versions of adults she recognized. laughing in disbelief, she whispered to eddie, “holy shit that’s old man harvey.” she glanced to the furthest corner. max’s eyes darted to the left and she continued quietly, “and im pretty sure that’s the bitchy receptionist from high school.” fucking wild. max stopped her initial scoping and they proceeded to the bar. she stretched her shoulders, cracking her back while they sat. seriously, she looked at eddie, “i’ll let you pick our poison, you know, since you’ll need the upperhand.”

-

it was a welcome distraction from everything else going on around them, from all the madness - you know, in that respect, eddie felt like he’d come back to hawkins exactly as he had left it. as if no time had passed. just him and max, making the streets of downtown hawkins unsafe, wreaking havoc wherever they could. man, maybe it hadn’t been that shitty to grow up here.

the first thing that hit him was the smell, the ever-present stench that lingers inside the place, one he remembers from many nights of playing the venue and/or underage drinking, the odd deal here and there, and, well, actually maybe it had been that shitty growing up here. “jesus, i almost forgot. you think they ever wiped the placed down?” he pulled a face, making it a point to inhale through his mouth while he got used to being back in the best dump of a bar all of hawkins had to offer.  

his eyes followed max’s, lingering for a second on the regular she had pointed out. a nod, “that’s senior citizen harvey now”,  he quickly averted his eyes, took a seat on the stool next to her. it was hard to place at first, that queasy, uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. a bout of nausea, almost. of course all these people eddie had - weirdly enough - spent countless nights with in this very bar had changed, aged, as they were bound to. as eddie himself had done. seeing them in person, however, upclose, that was an entirely different thing. pathetic, how seeing the deep lines and wrinkled on the bitchy receptionist face made him suddenly acutely aware of his own worry and laughter lines, the bits of grey starting to appear in that wild mop of hair of his. shit, even max - for some reason, every time eddie glanced at her he half-expected to be met with the vigorous, bright face of that girl who’d nearly knocked down the door to his trailer one night, demanding to introduce herself since they were now neighbours.

eddie rolled his eyes, turned his attention back to flagging the bartender down, giving him something else to do than dwell on the past. “we’ll have, uh .... how about we start with two shots of ... tequila? and then just a beer for round two, pilsner if you have it.” a twinkle in his eye, eddie grinned at the bartender who looked them up and down with a slightly disapproving glance. “oh, you wanna check my i.d., marty? pinky promise mad max and i are legal.” legally drinking in this establishment for the first time, but marty’s little tut, the little shake of his head proved that he remembered the days of getting talked into ‘just one beer, i swear we’ll get outta your hair! we won’t tell anyone!’.

tapping rhythmically onto the counter, eddie slid his i.d. back into his wallet and turned to face max. an enthusiastic ‘l’chaim!’ before he downed his shot and washed it down with a sip of beer, unable to stop himself from grimacing. “speaking of wild encounters we had in this place, do you remember sarah kline? mayor kline’s daughter? you know, the... “, eddie gestured around wildly trying to find the words, miming the motion of a cheerleader toying around with pom-poms. “yeah, i met her in town earlier today. fucking wild, man. she’s, like, president of the ‘eddie munson murderer’ club. fuck, am i glad to be out of this dump.” another pointed sheak of his head. “and i’m sure you are,too, mrs. bigshot lawyer! how’s life treating you, mayfield? oh, also, do you know if you’re still allowed to smoke in here?”

[bubblegumpcp-deactivated2023082]

She immediately locked eyes with him, a sickness spreading in her stomach. Was it fair? Probably not, for he was never charged guilty of what everyone deemed him guilty for. Once the big break through happened for him and his band, word started to spread in Hawkins. Eddie the freak, now Eddie the rockstar. Some were hypocrites for praising him when they used to loathe him. Others were skeptical and were rethinking everything happening at the time surrounding Chrissy Cunningham.

All Sarah could think about was that perhaps those events had only been the beginning of the rockstar-lifestyle. It wouldn't be the first time a celebrity gotten away with a crime, after all.

It wasn't like she came from the holiest of situations. Her father actually did get sentenced for conspiracy with Russians. He did not get re-elected. He did not grow further into politics. He did not become president, like he always 'joked'. He did not reach any of that. Larry Kline fell from that high horse and so did his family.

But Eddie Munson seemed to have picked up the trampled reins and rode off to success. But it was not envy that rekindled that uncomfortable feeling in her stomach. It was skepticism. And unresolved fear of the freak that seemed to enjoy hurting pretty cheerleaders.

She blinked herself out of her staring and shook her head as she remembered to breathe. "I don't mean to stare." she mumbled, excusing herself in a way. "I am just surprised you're here. Wouldn't think that's something you'd wanna do after everything."

@edsmcnson

[edsmcnson]

make no mistake, eddie munson had prepared himself extensively for this precise situation. running into someone who hadn't made it out of hawkins in time, perhaps hadn't even tried to, forever remaining in their stuck up, judgemental ways. he'd put the hours in the car with robin to good use, acting out this scenario with a hundred different outcomes - most of the time they did lose track, improv-ing their way into diaolgues fit for a telenovela. guess the status as a former drama kid never did leave you, huh.

now, no matter how well prepared eddie had thought himself to be, theory and reality were two quite fundamentally different things. and, confronted with that very scenario he'd thought himself able to master swimmingly, instead of a witty comment there was only one word on his mind : fuck.

he didn't think it to happen that soon - he'd barely even had a chance to unpack his bags for crying out loud - neither in such a particularly ... hostile way. that woman looked repulsed by him, repelled, and eddie scrunched up his nose at her slightly, brows furrowed in ... well, shock, honestly. quite taken aback by how severely sickened by him she looked. but then, had he expected anything else from hicksville, indiana?

he might've made it somewhere else, everywhere else, he thought, not without a sense of pride swelling in his chest. but that didn't matter in hawkins. never would matter to the people who still saw him as a murderer, responsible for the demise of - but not limited to - the queen of hawkins high.

that's when it hit him, where he recognized her from. that double page in the yearbook that had all the cheerleader's portraits on it, from when eddie had spent hours drawing mustaches and devil horns on the bright, smiling faces there. they'd always done it to his yearbook picture, too, after all.

eddie mirrored her slight headshake, not to snap himself out of a stupor, but to emphasize how pathetic this whole interaction seemed to him. "well, doesn't really matter if 'you don't mean to' , does it? fact is you're still doing it, god knows why." as much as eddie would've loved to take the high ground here, not even react to her adressing him, it seemed impossible. there were grudges, harbored for more than twenty years, that suddenly came bubbling to the surface. on his side, too. "not sure if you've heard but there's been a death. and i'm here to support my friends during these trying times." all laid on thick, with a sickly sweet smile. suddenly, eddie held his hands up in mock surrender. " promise it wasn't me this time! i don't do murder anymore, i moved on to music. must've been all that dungeons and devils and gargoyles and demon dice i've been playing back then!"

would eddie have said all this if he hadn't previously thrown a quick look over his shoulder to make sure no one was there? probably not. he made a motion with his hand as if he was waving it all off, then shrugged, as if to say 'i'm only joking'.

"you know, i could ask you the same question, sarah kline." oh, boy, did he remember her. and did he remember her father's time as mayor, making his life hell wherever he could. outcasts weren't a good look, after all. "you know, with the whole... commie situation. i mean, makes sense, now the red scare has passed you could go back to your roots. but hey, no judgement from me here. actually, i always thought a little marx and lenin could do this country some good."

(@bubblegumpcp)

[edsmcnson]

stevehharringtcns·:

who: steve harrington & @edsmcnson· ( + ford harrington ) where: the middle of the street

“stop… fussing. you need to put your seatbelt on.” steve groaned as he struggled to put on the seatbelt in ford’s seat. it seemed like those things were impossible to actually put on and it was even harder when his kid wouldn’t stop kicking around. he was still getting used to being a dad, if he was being honest - even if two years had gone by since ford had been born. but from what he had heard, the terrible twos were a terrible age for kids and luckily for steve, it seemed to be right around the corner. he just wanted to go for a ride in his car, like he used to do, but now he had to take ford with him. not that he didn’t enjoy his own son’s company, but he liked it a lot when he was asleep. it seemed impossible to get him to do that right now. “just play with this.” steve said as he picked up a toy from the car’s floor and placed it next to ford. once the other settled and focused on the toy, steve finally managed to fasten the seatbelt, letting out a sigh of relief.

“see? that wasn’t that hard, was it?” steve asked to his kid, who stuck out his tongue - he wondered if it was intentional. just as he was about to stand up to get up and walk into the driver’s seat, he heard a familiar voice coming from behind. a voice that he hadn’t heard in quite some time - and part of him wondered if he was just hallucinating. hearing the voice made him jump a bit, making him hit the car’s roof. “fuck.” he muttered, which made ford laugh for a bit. steve clumsily got himself out of the car and turned around to see eddie munson. “e-eddie?” he asked, stuttering a bit before he shook his head to make sure that he wasn’t dreaming. he had hit his head pretty hard. “what are… what are you, uh, doing… here?” he asked, rubbing the back of his head in confusion.

*

against all odds, eddie munson had decided to go for a walk. not an activity he normally pursued, partly in fear of being recognized, partly because he wasn’t exaclty a health nut, but extreme situations drove people to extreme actions. being back in hawkins for a funeral - another funeral, he thought - definitely qualified as an extreme situation. the circumstances of his trip back home were tragic, no doubt about it, and the fact that eddie rather felt like his very life had derailed into a catastophe in itself wasn’t making this whole thing any easier. he wanted to clear his head. no, he desperately needed to. wayne was entirely too ... too caring, too understanding. as if his uncle looked right through him. as if he wasn’t adressing the man that was standing in front of him, but rather that bright eyed, bushy tailed nineteen year old that had, to wayne’s understanding, left his home in search of adventure and whatever the world had to offer him.

eddie had felt the nausea creeping up on him, his guilty conscience climbing up his back to manifest in a painful ache of his shoulders, the minute he had pulled into hawkins, and it had only worsened with every pat on the back, every warm smile his uncle had offered him. and then, of course, there was mallory, lori for short, who’d moved in with his uncle some years back, into that charming little bungalow a five minute drive from forest hills trailer park. the sweet librarian that eddie had heard so much about from wayne, who was now, technically, his step-aunt. though she felt as much like a mom as wayne felt like a father. 

the home he’d come back to, the one he’d left in shambles all those years ago, was entirely too loving for eddie to comprehend. surely, someone as - as false, as fraudulent as him didn’t belong in a household like that. full of warmth and light and homecooked family dinners. so, in an attempt to stop himself from hurling, to escape the sensory overload of being cared for, eddie had excused himself and gone on a walk.

completely by himself, no music or anything, alone with his thoughts. trying to drown those out by focusing on the sounds of the woods around him as much as possible. the call of a bird there, the rustle of the leaves here, the occasional crack of a branch - that one always made him tense a little, to be completely honest. eddie didn’t know how long he’d been walking, just that, by the ache that was forming in his legs, it was time to turn around soon. just a few more steps. a few more sounds. birds, leaves, disgruntled voices.

hold up. eddie stopped, suddenly aware of his surrounding again. voices? no, no. that wasn’t right. not voices, just one, one voice. but one unmistakeable voice, that shocked him to his core. how was it possible that he still sounded the same? that fucker. 

no, yeah, one voice, just one, one that had haunted eddie in his dreams ever since the spring of ‘86. a voice that he’d really - so far quite successfully - forced himself to forget because, hey, he was turning fourty soon and it was, to be honest, a little ridiculous to be still be sorta hung up on that straight guy you fought monsters from hell with in senior year number three.

and still! that voice, eddie was sure, could wake him from a fucking coma. straightening his back, nervously tucking a lock of frazzled, messy hair behind his ear, eddie approached the car. “steve? steve - steve harrington ?”

it couldn’t be, it couldn’t fucking be. but it was, of course it was. eddie had figured everyone that had lived through vecna had left town immediately after, just like him. but of course, he should’ve known that if anyone it would be steve that had stayed. eddie managed a crooked grin as he took in the other - yeah, they both had aged quite a bit since they’d last seen each other. but fuck, steve still looked as good as ever. not fair, and not helping.

“i’m - i’m just in town for the funeral.” a beat passed. eddie, usually so good with words, desperately tried to think of something to say. “it’s good to see you, man.” pathetic. “so you’re in town for the, the funeral too, or .... “ or did you never leave this godforsaken hellhole? no, no, he shouldn’t be mean. shouldn’t judge. 

movement caught his eye and he stood on his tiptoes to peer behind steve, meeting eyes with - well, with what eddie could only describe as a baby version of steve. he attempted a weak smile, then looked back at steve, back to the toddler, back to steve. it couldn’t be.... no, right? could steve... and, oh god, could steve and nancy ... ? 

he cleared his throat. “so!” said a little too loud, making himself jump. “uh... who’s the little guy?”

[edsmcnson]

maxmayfieldlaw·:

.

“fucking ow!” max shouted at the stranger, immediately getting ready to ram herself back into them. just because she was a lawyer now didn’t mean she wasn’t always still ready to throw down. when she heard his voice though, max grinned, “shit, it’s you, munson.” max greeted him affectionately. (well, affectionately for max at least.) “you working on being a linebacker since i last saw you?” she teased, then plucked the hat off this head. “this thing is a safety hazard.” she pointed out, “and you’re not fooling anybody, your mop is recognizable from a mile away.” max informed him, easily falling into conversation. 

of all people from hawkins, max kept in closest contact with eddie. maybe it was because he left too, or maybe it was because he’d come over and kickstarted their heat that first winter in forest hills. or because max brought susan over to eat with him and wayne one month when mom hadn’t gotten out of bed in two weeks. maybe it was because they both almost died in 1986. and maybe it was simply because in their time in hawkins they’d both experienced a lot of real things others didn’t get. they left roughly around the same time, but kept in touch. 

max remembered waiting until she was home by herself as a teenager to call eddie in chicago and ask for tips on how to make more of a profit when she was dealing. they spent a couple of different thanksgivings together. and because of their separation from hawkins, their friendship was able to blossom into adulthood. in fact, every time they saw each other, max promised she’d brush up on copyright law if eddie ever wanted to sue anybody. free of charge.

so while it made sense they’d both be in hawkins at the same time after what had just happened, max was still kind of glad to see the surprise of a familiar face, even if it was in the parking lot of melvald’s. she looked at his groceries and glanced around, “any chance you can ditch those?” max crossed her arms, “we’re long overdue for a legal drink at the hideaway, you know.” then to add a little incentive, “first person to tap out on shots has to pay?” and in case that didn’t convince him, max punched eddie’s arm, “come on.” 

@edsmcnson··

“woah, woah, woah, easy there, you little shit!” palms held up in mock surrender and said, of course, with an amused smile playing at his lips, beginning to spread into a wide grin. jeez, guess today was his lucky day then. out of all people to run into while out and about alone, making the streets of hawkins unsafe, max mayfield was, by far, the mest welcome one. truthfully also,  like, the only person from ‘back then’ - even thinking something that vague made him shiver - he’d managed to keep in steady contact with. well, apart from robin, of course. but that one didn’t quite count, they lived together.

a most welcome and comforting sight, setting the worries of running into someone he hadn’t bothered to say goodbye to at ease. at least he didn’t have to feel excruciatingly guilty in her presence. 

with a disgruntled frown, eddie tutted, snatched the hat from her hands and stuffed it into the back pocket of his jeans - a task carried out almost sub-conciously, like a reflex. leftover from years of stuffing that black bandana in there. “´was worth a try.” he shrugged. “i guess my hair’s simply too exquisite for hicksville, indiana.” talking to max, he felt the seemingly long forgotten vigour and youthful boisteoursness return to his bones, an andrenaline rush of sorts. it felt tortoursly bittersweet. present!eddie rarely ever felt like this anymore, except for when he was on stage, perhaps, performing. if he could manage to drown the god awful music he was respnsible for out. maybe it was the rare glimpse an exitence before the horror, the easy trailer park days, the playful back and forth. the beautiful naivety of youth, where one couldn’t even imagine that everything might just change at the drop of a hat.

it sent a shiver through him, a shock. as if his whole body was waking up from a tupor, all pins and needles. god, he’d missed max.

a glance down at his groceries - nothing that really needed to be refigerated, anyway, he hadn’t gotten that far - it wasn’t long until he eventually gave in and nodded enthusiastically. face lit up, cheeks nearly aching with how wide he was grinning. “you got it, mayfield. get ready to pay for those shots, it’s gonna be a long night.” ( @maxmayfieldlaw​ )

[edsmcnson]

WHO: eddie and ???

WHAT: a little grocery shop + existential crisis

WHERE: melvald’s general store

no matter how many shows he’d played in foreign countries, strange cities - coming back to hawkins after so many years, they all seemed much more familiar than his former hometown. of course, it still looked the same. most of it did, anyway. downtown hawkins had barely seen any changes to its landscape, except for the changing around of outdated shops to new ones, satisfying the demand. which, eddie was sure, couldn’t be very high in a town like this, but alas.

and yet, despite it all, the sight of hawkins, the very air of it, offered no familiarity, no comfort at all. it was stifling, if anything, momentarily making him break out in a cold sweat. that shop over there, where the record store once was - to eddie it’d always be the spot billy hargrove and his goons shoved him into the brick wall and left him with a stately black eye. and that bench over there, forever connected with the memory of mrs. pillsbury calling him a ‘disgrace’, a ‘deranged murderer’ in passing. 

the fact that he had even managed to come back amazed him, seeing as the highway to hawkins had been an anxiety riddled disaster of a drive. no, he’d have never set foot in this town willingly, if it wasn’t for joyce byers. and for his uncle, too. it felt good to see wayne, even if that reunion was laced with the bitter taste of guilt in his mouth, because eddie definitely didn’t call often enough.

which brought him to the parking lot in front of melvald’s general store - eddie had felt guilty enough to suggest he venture out alone into the town, bring home some groceries, beer, whatever else wayne might need. his uncle was getting older, and if anything, that funeral invite had made it abundantly clear that prioritising your loved ones was getting more important than ever.

here he was, alone, back in hawkins, slamming the car door shut while simultaneously putting some rocked down basecap onto his head. to conceal his identity as good as possible, and for the first time in a long time, not because he’d risen to a small degree of stardom that had catapulted him into being a somewhat easily recognizable public figure, but so that the older townspeople who, eddie was sure, still held grudges, didn’t catapult him with insults or chase him out of hawkins with torches and pitchforks.

with his hat pulled as far down onto his face as possible, he didn’t see who he was approaching on a straight course until it was too late, and their shoulders had already collided. “shit - sorry, my bad. you okay?”

[aneurins]

SAM CLAFLIN for ROLLING STONES (2023)