It's forced conformity. That's what's killing the kids!
Freaks and heroes alike, step right up! It is I, Eddie Munson. Certifiable freak seven days a week, and twice on Thursdays. Before you delve further, might I suggest you Navigate the Noise?
Selective roleplay // Canon and Non-Canon // Multi/crossover verses welcomed // Hellcheer has my heart//Set in '86, baby
Rules
For more examples of my writing, venture here.
So now that you have all of the appropriate information, what do you say we run like hell outta here?
Friday nights at the Hideout always smelled the same. In fact, the scent held its familiarity for as long as he'd known the space. Ever since his pops used to sneak him in here for a quick two shot before going home. (Until Eddie grew into the balls it took to tell his Uncle Wayne what was going on).
If bottled into a perfume, the notes would carry: cigarette smoke soaked through the knotty pine walls behind the bar, the bitter bite of spilled liquor, sweaty motor oil, and cheap cologne. Sometimes, he wondered if the scent would linger in his clothes forever. Maybe the dust of this town couldn't be shaken, becoming a second skin he couldn't shed. Still, it paid some of the bills. And since getting out of Hawkins certainly wasn't in the cards anytime soon, it was the best he could do with the hand dealt. Not that he wasn't meticulously saving for his exit. Only within the last few months had Eddie moved out of Wayne's and into his own place. He still visited several times a week, though. These days, Wayne worked the morning shift at the factory. Which meant the nights were free for sharing a six pack and watching whatever they could find on the shitbox. It didn't always work out (Eddie rarely had nights off) so he'd go over to Wayne's for dinner before his shift. He welcomed the company. Hawkins becoming a dystopian prison was a campaign concept he crafted in his head. It wasn't supposed to mimic reality. It made the night eerie and the daytime exceptionally bleak. Of course it was Eddie's luck that the whole town would go into quarantine as soon as he'd saved up enough money to leave. Fuck this place.
After managing a proper mind spiral through the filter of his self-pity, Eddie's eyes remaining fixated on his task as a new visitor settled into the barstool to his left. "Be right with you," Eddie called behind his shoulder, closing the cash drawer before placing his pack of cigarettes back into the front pocket of his shirt. Smoke break would have to wait. Turning on his heels, Eddie's eyebrows rose animatedly as he realized who'd come to see him.
"Well as I live and breathe. Do my eyes deceive me, or are you choosing to slum it with us on this fine evening?" Eddie crooned with his signature wily grin.
"Nah, I got it," Eddie started, taking the pen and clipboard from Angel as they sat in the waiting room. However, as soon as his hand wrote the beginning three letters of his first name, he reluctantly reconsidered. "Okay, yeah. Hell, you might know more information to fill that out than I do anyway," he teased, wincing as his hand throbbed. He offered his social security number for her to write down, and confirmed the correct number to reach his Uncle Wayne as his emergency contact. "You know, I could make you my emergency contact instead. I mean, so far I think you handle things better than Wayne. He's like a squirrel in a nuthouse when anything happens with me medically. Eyes darting around, worried expression, a lot of 'uhs, ums' and 'shit fires'... oh and pacing. I prefer this," he teased.
"I really need to remember to punch with my non-dominant hand though, but I'm not exactly thinking with a full deck when it happens," he admitted with a groan, laying his head on Angel's shoulder. "I'm an idiot," he grumbled, his bottom lip jutting out. Once the paperwork was through, Eddie walked it to the receptionist before rejoining Angel. His eyes studied a tubed fluorescent light, the corner of it darkened and glitching with what felt like the same pace as his heartbeat. There was a heaviness between them; one that Eddie hoped would never exist. But this was relationships. Sometimes, you had to process through situations on your own. Because you couldn't bear the thought of pulling someone into your darkness. Especially a light like Angel.
Eddie hopped up when they called his name, making sure Angel followed. "Alright, let's see what the damage is."
"Nah, I just pretend really well." She bit her bottom lip to hide the grin blooming on her face when he mentioned adding her as his contact, though maybe the sickly bright lights of the hospital didn't help her case in concealing her blush from how much that meant to her. "You should've seen me back home when I had to take care of my mom when she was in the hospital. I reacted the same way as Wayne." She chuckled softly, avoiding his gaze as she scribbled and double-checked everything in the form. Talking about the past and all she had to endure with her mom's illnesses always made her teary-eyed, and she was not about to let the waterworks out in an already tense moment.
"No arguments there. But you're my idiot," she teased when Eddie pouted, grabbing his nose and squeezing it lovingly before tilting her face so she could kiss his forehead, feeling a little soothed by that goofy, gorgeous face she adored. But her heart raced as she took his good hand and they went inside an examining room. Surely Eddie would notice the way she tightened her grip to ease her own anxieties, being in a place like this, reluctant to let it go when he was made to sit on the bed, while she sat on a chair by the door when the doctor went in. She fiddled with her fingers, clenching and unclenching a fist as she held her breath and waited, not wanting to see a needle piercing his skin.
Shit. This is why he hadn't called Angel to begin with. Not only did he not want her to come to his aid for something that was 100% his fault, but also due to her history with hospitals. Feeling Angel's grip grow tighter, Eddie pulsed his own hand through three squeezes - I love you. Looking over at Angel as they entered the room, he spoke again. "It's gonna be fine. Nothin' some stitches and a deliciously strong painkiller can't cure," he assured with a nod, mouth curling into a warm grin.
As soon as Eddie noticed Angel's tense body language, he motioned her over with his pointer finger. "C'mere. There's plenty of room," he urged, looking to the doctor for approval though far from requiring it. As Angel settled on the side that held his uninjured hand, Eddie linked his fingers through hers.
"So, you said you stuck your fist through a window? Didn't think to use that handkerchief you got there to protect your hand from the blow?" the doctor asked with a pessimistically smug smirk. Eddie's eyes flickered down to the black bandana wrapped around his knuckles. "I uh... I didn't have it on me," Eddie lied, cheeks pricking with nervous heat. Thankfully, the sterile light of the hospital room washed out the color that now blushed his face. "Look doc, if a full psychological is needed to figure out what's wrong with my hand, then maybe I oughta get a lawyer," he quipped, voice holding an edge of irritation despite his soft smile. The doctor nodded with amusement. "Just makin' sure you're mentally sound since you busted your hand on a window without a thought given on how to protect yourself from getting hurt." Eddie cleared his throat, desperately trying to maintain his composure while his temper rose. "Yeah well, don't they teach you in medical school that frontal lobes aren't exactly fully developed until your late twenties? Mine's still pickling." "Mmhmmm," the doctor replied, suddenly growing bored of the encounter while scratching his stubble. "We'll clean the wound and give you a few stitches. If it didn't go too deep, we can do the dissolvable stitches. Shouldn't need to come back here unless it gets infected."
After the patch up was complete--by some miracle, only dissolvable stiches were needed-- Angel and Eddie exited to the parking lot. Eddie wore a satisfied grin as he clattered his bottle of painkillers together like a maraca. "I'm gonna sleep so good tonight. The last time I had this stuff was when I had my wisdom teeth taken out." Reaching over to place his arm around Angel's shoulder, Eddie kissed the crook of Angel's neck while breathing in the scent of her hair. "I'm gonna call into work tomorrow and the doctor gave me an excuse for school. Wanna play hooky with me? I'll move the tv and stuff into my room so we don't even have to leave the bed except to eat and pee," he smiled, eyes glinting with persuasive glee.
Steve keeps assigning vaguely criminal skills to Eddie and like, okay. Steve says that Eddie can pick a lock (he can), and Eddie can hotwire a car (he can), and Eddie knows where they can get medical grade sedative (he does) but like. It keeps escalating until-
"Why the fuck would I know how to break into a military base, Harrington???"
As if I would give that asshole the time of day. I don't know what the point of this was, babe. Like... okay? While they're out there sending me shit, I'm getting my back blown by my boyfriend
"Nah, I got it," Eddie started, taking the pen and clipboard from Angel as they sat in the waiting room. However, as soon as his hand wrote the beginning three letters of his first name, he reluctantly reconsidered. "Okay, yeah. Hell, you might know more information to fill that out than I do anyway," he teased, wincing as his hand throbbed. He offered his social security number for her to write down, and confirmed the correct number to reach his Uncle Wayne as his emergency contact. "You know, I could make you my emergency contact instead. I mean, so far I think you handle things better than Wayne. He's like a squirrel in a nuthouse when anything happens with me medically. Eyes darting around, worried expression, a lot of 'uhs, ums' and 'shit fires'... oh and pacing. I prefer this," he teased.
"I really need to remember to punch with my non-dominant hand though, but I'm not exactly thinking with a full deck when it happens," he admitted with a groan, laying his head on Angel's shoulder. "I'm an idiot," he grumbled, his bottom lip jutting out. Once the paperwork was through, Eddie walked it to the receptionist before rejoining Angel. His eyes studied a tubed fluorescent light, the corner of it darkened and glitching with what felt like the same pace as his heartbeat. There was a heaviness between them; one that Eddie hoped would never exist. But this was relationships. Sometimes, you had to process through situations on your own. Because you couldn't bear the thought of pulling someone into your darkness. Especially a light like Angel.
Eddie hopped up when they called his name, making sure Angel followed. "Alright, let's see what the damage is."
Isa stood in the wings behind the stage, chewing nervously on her thumb, mind racing. She had tossed a coin at least 5 times to decide whether or not to take a risk, wanting to be recognized for her practical effect work. Sure, she had helped with the set building and props, ensuring the atmosphere was right. But this...this was her passion. Bending reality. And she wanted to prove herself, be daring.
And no one had ever seen a bloodied Juliet before...right?
She shook her head, muttering to herself as she turned on her heel to head to the dressing room. "Fuck it."
Isa walked up to their starlet, some blue-eyed blonde she couldn't recall the name of, who was far too serious about high school theater. She lowered her voice, barely able to contain her excitement. "Look, you want to make an impression on the scouts, right?"
The blonde's eyes flashed with palpable desire and ambition, her body leaning forward as she whispered low. "There are actual scouts tonight?"
Isa swallowed her lie, nodding despite not knowing if there were truly any scouts in the crowd. Their teacher constantly touted the same threat to try and get a better performance, but no one truly believed her. Her lies slipped from her mouth easily as she pretended to look around the room, hissing at the starlet. "Quiet! It's a big deal...Hush, hush, I hear."
The blonde swallowed and fanned herself, groaning. "No one is going to take this joke of a play seriously! It's so...bland!"
Isa nodded solemnly, sighing. She bit back a sense of surprise at her acting skills, but tried to focus on the task at hand. "Yeah, sadly...but we may have a secret weapon."
The blonde furrowed her brows as Isa waved her over to a small table off the side of the stage, showcasing small bags of a dark red syrupy substance, all neatly laid in a row. Her classmate scrunched her nose, disgusted. "Ew! Is that-"
Isa shushed her, waving a hand as she hissed through her teeth. "Quiet! It's fake."
The blonde sighed and seemed to twist and tug on the ringlets perfectly made on her head, chewing her lip. "I dunno...Is this allowed?"
Isa swallowed, nerves swirling in her stomach as she waved off the concerns. "Psh! I think they'll be thrilled. Creativity and all that."
The blonde swallowed and nodded, her face set in determination, Isa's heart pounding as her stomach erupted with butterflies.
"Let's do it."
Isa watched the play with fleeting interest, her mind stuck on the big moment. She wanted to prove herself, and figured maybe this would make a name for her work, at least in Hawkins. Hollywood had a little respect for infamy, right?
And maybe it was a small act of rebellion, considering the drama teacher constantly shot down her ideas for experimentation. And possibly a way to get her brother to actually notice her...it was a bubbling mess of emotions pushing this stunt, really.
When the time came, she quickly helped Juliet stuff the tiny bags into the top of her dress, whispering frantically as her heart pounded in her ear. "Okay, you'll use the retractable knife and hit the bags. We packed a few, so you shouldn't have to do much, especially since the dress is white."
She nodded, looking slightly worried, but then put on a brave face, smiling. "It'll be spectacular."
Isa smiled softly, nodding.
The starlet ran out to the stage, taking her place as a sleeping Juliet, believed to be dead. The dramatics ensued around her, and Isa's palms became sweaty, her heart pounding in her ears. She pulled out her filming camera, trying to focus on the actress before pressing record, her body at the very edge of the side curtains to get the perfect shot.
Maybe she shouldn't have done this...
Maybe she put too many bags...
Maybe-
The starlet awoke from her poisoned sleep, and with (a bit too much, if you asked Isa) fervor, she hit the collapsible dagger to her chest.
SPLAT.
Isa watched through the viewfinder as joy and horror warred in her mind. Juliet had smacked the small bags with such force that the blood spurted past the fabric, up on her face, and splattered on Romeo below. The crowd screeched in horror, murmurs of anger as the classmate continued clunkily, clearly shocked by the amount of blood continuing to seep onto the dress. Romeo grimaced at the sticky substance in his hair and costume, breaking the illusion of death.
Isa could not fight the grin of how memorable the blood was, how even the dagger was covered in it, and how the cheap sandwich bags that popped now looked like meaty gore. She scanned the shellshocked and terrified crowd through the camera, capturing their horror before stopping the video and putting the camera down. She felt pride until she found their drama teacher, eyes ablaze with fury and mouth straightened into a thin line. Their eyes met, and Isa felt her heart stop.
It's not that Eddie didn't have a flair for the dramatics. Before finding his sweet spot as a DM, he'd tested the creative waters in several other areas. One of his favorite ways was to memorize the most popular commercials at the time, and act them out for his mother with flawless accuracy. His father, on the other hand, hated it. Which was another reason Eddie so finely tuned this parlor trick. He'd stand in the living room, beside the only tv they owned, his posture standing at attention before launching into one of his many trained voices. Eddie's favorite was the 1973 Ford Pickup commercial. He loved mimicking the nasally northern cadence the actors used.
"Hey, an optional air conditiona' built right into the DASH!" "And look at this! A hidden storage area! Man, this thing is really put togetha!"
Eddie's artistic calling was nested in playing instruments and writing songs, not controlling stage lights and painting sets for an overrated production with a lackluster Juliet front and center. Not that Romeo was doing her any favors. He appreciated Shakespeare. He'd even taken a few ideas from different works and applied them to a song or two. It was all flowery metaphors and dramatic declarations...and yet somehow the guy made heartbreak a soulful sonnet, and revenge sound like a religious awakening. Art recognized art. That didn't mean he thought Hawkins's high school production would do any of it justice. Which is why, the only reason he was there that night was to ensure he'd graduate on time. Well, not on actual time, but on time this year.
You see, Eddie had crafted the Senior prank to end all Senior pranks. Because as much as he wanted to fly low and just get through the school year... a part of him still craved notoriety. He did, after all, want to be a rockstar. And what's a famous rockstar without stories of rebellion in his glory days? He just didn't know parking a school bus on the football field during school hours, putting up a tent, and roasting marshmallows over the open flame of a stolen bunsen burner would be considered illegal. Somehow, Eddie finagled his way toward redemption by agreeing to help the drama club's prop department. They were short handed after Mark fell off a ladder and broke his leg. Lucky guy.
So here he was, remaining on stand by in case anything screwy happened with the props. And though the temptation of sabotaging the performance whispered sweet nothings into his ear like a shouldered devil, he maintained innocence. For now, anyway. Eddie flicked his lighter open and shut, the sparks from the friction glittering the air around him. One of his guilty pleasures was people watching, so it wasn't long before his eyes settled upon the hopeless Juliet and Isa. And they stayed there, until it was clear Eddie wouldn't be reading lips well enough to decode their conversation.
He almost missed it. Counting the seconds on a nearby clock, desperately eager to leave before the final curtain call, Eddie's eyes lazily flicked over to Juliet as she curled her fingers around the dagger and stabbed. A gelatinous, red goo splattered Juliet before dripping onto Romeo. For a split second, Eddie wondered if it was a freak accident, and his heart leapt into his throat. However, Isa standing beside him with a camcorder immediately silenced that alarm. "Holy shit. I wish I'd thought of that," he remarked, tone dripping with measured awe as a pleased smirk curled his lips. "Fucking brilliant," he continued, gaze darting around to an auditorium of horrified faces. "I need a copy of that tape, by the way. Because I'm fairly certain that'll be one of the highlight reels of..." he trailed off as soon as Miss Harris's icy stare put Juliet's dagger to shame. "Shit. I've seen that look a time or two," he commented, unable to get his mouth to stop running. "Well, only one way to shift focus," he muttered with a wink, slipping further behind the curtain and barreling down the side stairs to exit stage right.
Wiping his hands on the side of his jeans, Eddie rubbed his fingers across his palms before joining them together in a boisterous show of approval. The sound of his applause echoed through the auditorium, which currently felt like a minefield of loose cannons. "BRAVO! YEAH!!" he bellowed, looking to either side of him with furrowed brows that held judgement. Whether it was Eddie's jarring yet influential charisma, or confusion from the crowd, soon the auditorium was filled with modest applause. "RIGHT?! Now THAT'S theatre!" he continued, feeling a bit like a conductor on a runaway train as his mouth once again traveled well before his brain. Eyes scanning back over to Isa, he nodded with a sheepish grin to show he meant no harm. That his admiration for the lady balls that it took to pull something like that off was the propeller to his current actions.
Sometimes I feel sad that Tumblr rp groups have become a kind of dying art. (I know there are still players and groups here, but it’s the slimmest I’ve ever seen. The majority use discord which I just cannot get the hang of).
Everyone deserves to have the same experience I did when I first started. I was late to the Degrassi fandom, but I caught on quick. We all loved Eli Goldsworthy, so players of his were in abundance at that time lol
And who can blame them (and me) with source material like this 🥰😂:
Degrassi drama was the best drama, regardless if it was fictional or otherwise hehe So many amazing groups. One of my favorites was a group that took the theme of The Real World and stuffed all of the conflicting characters into the same house. The drama, the fanfare, the legendary plots 🥲 I played Anya that round.
Playing Tate Langdon was a beautiful experience too. That was when I created my first and only group. I was unemployed with my sleep schedule flipped, so many nights we’d be in chatrooms rping in character, or having the best conversations ooc. I had so many strangers coming into my inbox begging to play even minor characters. We had every main character from Murder House, and the plots were in abundance. One of my favorite things to do was spar back and forth with Dr. Harmon 🤣 we had a legendary Constance too!
It’s why I keep coming back to roleplay. Each time I revisit it, there are plotlines that I simply can’t forget. Eddie and Angel’s first night she visited The Hideout will remain burned into my brain forever. The ridiculous dynamic of Eddie squared is another one🤣 I have plot lines playing another ST character that are equally some of my favorite memories from rping as well.
All this to say, I truly appreciate everyone who writes with me. Even if sometimes I get stuck and can’t continue, or the writing chemistry just isn’t there enough for my brain to work properly. (I give my all when I write, so if I’m not feeling it, it’s so hard to continue. It’s nothing personal, it’s just my stupid brain!)
So yeah. Here’s an obligatory sappy morning post to say that I’m so thankful for the opportunity to do one of my favorite things—write— with some insanely talented people 💜
