#middle school eddie munson

[on-coming-dusk]

Scott Clarke anyone?

“Alright kiddo, one for you, one for me.” Scott sat next to Eddie Munson, handing him an ice pack for the bruise already forming around his left eye.

“Thanks…” The boy wouldn’t look at him, refusing to meet his gaze. Scott wasn’t surprised, he had seen his own reflection, his nose and under his eyes was a nasty dark purple already.

“So…” Scott chugged along. “Do you want to tell me what happened?” Eddie only shook his head, pressing the ice to his face. This was the part of his job that Scott enjoyed the least.

Something happened between Eddie and Tommy Hagan this morning. There were more than enough black eyes, broken noses, and bloody knuckles to prove it. Scott had watched for the last few months as Eddie tried to find his place among his peers. With his primary friend group a year or two below him it wasn’t a surprise he was having trouble adjusting. And now this, a fight on his previously clean record. It was highly probable that Tommy antagonized Eddie until he got a reaction. But Scott couldn’t say that without creating more problems that none of them needed to deal with. If he could just get Eddie to tell him what happened. He didn’t have much faith, he had been trying to get this kid interested in class for weeks with little success. But that didn’t mean that he was going to quit now.

“You know what? That’s fair. I’m sure I wouldn’t want to talk about it either, if I were in your shoes. But Eddie, I can’t help you if I don’t know what happened. Shoot, I won’t even know what to tell your uncle when he gets here. Will you consider telling me even though you don’t want to? It would really make my life a whole lot simpler.”

Still, Eddie said nothing. But he reached into his backpack, hesitating for a moment before producing a newspaper. It was crumpled up, having seen better days, and Eddie refused to look at him as he handed it to the teacher. Scott set his own ice pack down, taking the paper gently and smoothing it down so it could be read.

His stomach twisted.

Wabash Local Faces Trial Born and raised in Wabash, Indiana, Edward Charles Munson Sr. was arrested May 13th, 1980. Beginning this week he will face trail for charges of auto theft, possession of controlled substances, distribution of controlled substances, breaking and entering, and assault with a deadly weapon.

Scott read those words at least three times in an attempt to wrap his mind around them. It was the answer to a lot of questions that seemed to follow the boy around.

It was already common knowledge that Eddie only moved to Hawkins permanently upon beginning to live with his uncle full time a few months ago. In town Wayne Munson was well liked. Friendly but quiet, he stuck to the few friends he had made upon his arrival, never partaking in town gossip or the rumor mill. There were whispers about how strange he was, the way he never seemed to go on dates or have an interest in finding a wife, for that matter. Some folks still believed Eddie was his son and he was lying to everyone about it. But even still, he was welcomed to the town when he arrived all those years ago, upon his return from Vietnam.

It would take less than a week for Wayne Munson's well received image to shatter if this headline started spreading around town.

"Eddie, is this what made you hit Tommy?" Scott folded the paper in half, hiding those words from anyone else who might see.

______________________________________________________

So. I think it's safe to say that i have a certain thought for Eddie's dad in my head already and that i have for a while.

this is a piece that i wrote probably six months ago and decided to put on hold until i caught up with some of my more planned out stories. (still working on that but progress is progress!!!) i found it in and old doc today and i wanted to share it because i really like it

yes, eddie accidentally broke mr. clarke's nose. no, he does not blame eddie at all.

yes, the town thinks that wayne is either gay or attempting to hide the fact that he has a bastard child. no, neither of these things are true either.

#stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things writing #eddie munson #eddie munson's father #middle school eddie munson #hawkins middle school #scott clarke #mr clarke #wayne munson #tommy hagan #referenced drug dealer #small town rumors #hawkins

[theautisticbarbie]

A Brewing of Sinister Shennanigans

Word count: 3,929

Yeah it’s a doozy I know, but it’s worth it. I promise.

Anyway, middleschool!Eddie is a little shit and takes Halloween pranks way too fucking far and it ends up hurting Tara way worse than he intended and he ends up in a shit ton of trouble.

Content warnings: hinting at medical trauma, medical procedures (spinal tap and blood draw), implied medical racism, Eddie is a 13 year old little shit, mentions of fearmomgering, original characters

Let me know if I missed anything!

Tara Newman, the prissy snob who would cry “Teacher teacher!” if she saw kissing in the halls. 10 years old and already she’s become the biggest tattle tale in Hawkins. Maybe in all of Indiana. And Eddie was often the victim of her snitching. And he was sick of it. Sick of the praise she got. The little trinket rewards that were given to her for being so “vigilant” and whatnot. The one time that Tara was selected as hall monitor (a selection that is made entirely at random but still Tara believed her merits influenced it) Eddie’s life was a living hell. He had a habit of ditching class quite frequently. The upside of that was he got a workout in everytime Tara accosted him demanding to see his hall pass. But now, it was payback time and was gonna knock her down a few pegs. The high and mighty Tara Newman would be a crying, sobbing mess when he was through with her.

Tara had made her Halloween plans. She told her mother that she wanted to be Cinderella. Her mother looked at various blue dresses at Goodwill before Tara stopped her, adamantly insisting that Cinderella’s dress wasn’t blue. She had already plucked a white flower girl dress about her size.

“Grandmother and I are going to change this one,” Tara declared.

“Did you ask her?” asked Eleanor, raising an eyebrow.

There was a pause hanging in the air. “Grandmother!” Tara called, running to her.

Kathryn Fox-Newman insisted on coming along every year when it was time for Tara to get her Halloween costume. The bold Englishwoman simply insisted that she never gets to spend enough time with her grandchild. Never mind that Daniel was also just as much her grandchild. She never quite seized the opportunity to spend time with him as aggressively. And seeing as how Tara got more motherly affection from her than her own mother, she was always willing to spend time with her.

Tara presented the white dress to Kathryn, who examined it and compared it with a Betamax tape she was holding. “Ah yes! This will do perfectly!” she declared.

“See, mom?” Tara said, pointing to the Betamax tape. “THIS is Cinderella!” she declared, matter-of-factly, pointing at an image of Lesley Ann Warren on the packaging. Her dress was very decidedly off-white and not blue, with gold detailing and an ermine collar.

This was the 1965 version of the fairytale, given to the world by Richard Rogers and Oscar Hammerstein II. It was the version that Tara watched with her grandmother every time she came to visit and it was her favourite version of the tale.

Daniel had picked out the various elements for his costume but insisted it was a surprise exactly who he was going to be. When the pair approached the register to get rung up, Tara proudly laid the dress on the counter as though it were a fish that she had caught. “I’m gonna be Cinderella for Halloween!” she declared proudly.

The teenager ringing her up couldn’t care less. “11.50.”

After their adventures at Goodwill, they went to the local craft store, where Kathryn and Tara purchased the notions to finish the dress.

Whilst they were having lunch at Denny’s, Kathryn was looking through the paper, tsking at the headline.

“West Nile Virus is on the rise again,” she declared with a sigh.

“What’s Wess Denial Virus?” Tara asked.

“West Nile Virus,” Eleanor corrected, matter-of-factly, “and it’s nothing you need to concern yourself over because your chances of catching it are not high enough to think about it.”

Time moved onwards and it was the weekend before Halloween when Kathryn decided to take the twins to see a movie at the drive in. They had gone to go see “The Wiz” with their favourite snacks in tow.

The running gag of taxi cabs going “off duty” and driving off flew completely over the two 10 year old heads.

Throughout the film, mosquitoes kept taking bites out of Tara. By the film’s end, she was covered in bug bites practically from head to toe.

The following next couple of days school were rough. It was, of course, a given that she was teased relentlessly for her unsightly appearance caused by the bug bites. Eddie, whom she expected to make the worst fuss and have the most heinous insults, was uncharacteristically quiet. The buzz-haired boy had strangely been leaving her alone that week. Little did she know it was because he had seen John Carpenter’s spooky thriller and was concocting something of sinister proportions. All he needed was the mask. He acquired that at Melvald’s by way of the five finger discount.

His initial plan was to hide in Tara’s locker, jump out and scare her that way. Unfortunately, the day before Halloween, Tara had to be sent home sick. So Eddie decided that if she wouldn’t come to his prank, he would bring the prank to her. He was gonna knock the tattletale down a few pegs come hell or high water.

If only he knew that Tara’s reason for being sent home wasn’t anything frivolous like a few sniffles. She had fallen seriously ill. She was vomiting, had flu like symptoms and was running a fever of 102 and had Tachycardic episodes. The final straw in which she was sent home was when she had a seizure during her spelling exam. Tara was sent to the nurses office, where the teacher delegated Nancy Wheeler to escort her to ensure that she got there in one piece.

“Stop clinging to me like that!” she complained. “You’ll trip me!”

As though Tara could help it. She was struggling to keep her balance.

“Maybe you wouldn’t be so sick if you didn’t eat so much junk food all the time,” the 10 year old added, annoyed.

Nancy practically dumped Tara off at the nurses office before returning to class.

When Eleanor arrived, she took one look at her daughter and determined that she needed to go to the hospital.

When they arrived at the emergency room, she checked in and sat down. “I’m thirsty,” Tara whined weakly.

“No, you’re not. Just wait for the doctor,” Eleanor said, rolling her eyes in annoyance.

When the doctor finally saw Tara, the first thing he noticed was all of the bug bites. “What happened here?” he asked.

“My mother took her and her brother to the drive in and a bunch of mosquitoes bit her.”

“Okay, well, after having examined your chart and knowing that these are mosquito bites, I think the best course of action is to be absolutely certain that we’re not dealing with West Nile Virus.”

What the doctor didn’t tell Tara was that doing that entailed a spinal tap and a blood draw.

During both, Tara was in absolute distress. No effort was made to comfort or console her. In fact, they only made it worse for her.

And the irony of it was that her spinal fluid was clear and showed no signs of infection. Her blood work, however, indicated that that she had yellow fever.

She was sent home on bedrest and all though her symptoms had greatly improved the next day, on Halloween, it seemed like trick or treating was out of the question.

At least until Kathryn showed up with her completed dress and told her that she had a surprise for her.

After helping her get into her costume and doing her hair and makeup, she gave Tara a pair of jelly shoes (meant to be her glass slippers) and the two went downstairs. There, her brother was dressed as Superman and his friends were dressed as different members of the justice league from the ‘60s comics. The Byers kids were there as well, with Jonathan as Batman and Will as Robin from the 1966 show.

“Hold on!” Kathryn said, rushing down the stairs to grab her video camera. “And go!” she said, pointing the lens at the staircase.

Tara descended the stairs as the camera followed. “Now the world will forever remember when Cinderella graced the citizens of Hawkins with her presence,” Kathryn declared proudly.

“And how is she expected to go trick-or-treating in her state? What happens if she gets tired, mom? Are you, a 63 year old woman, going to carry her?” Eleanor asked, raising a brow.

“Oh, poo. You were always the most serious of the bunch,” Kathryn said, dismissively waving her hand.

“Well, I’m the only one left alive, so there’s that part.”

Kathryn ignored Eleanor’s snide remark and ushered Tara outside, where she saw her neighbour, Mr. Callahan, with a child’s wheelchair that he had used his welding and prop building skills to fashion into a moving golden carriage. The same wheelchair his daughter used before sadly succumbing to leukaemia. Truthfully, he has happy to see it being given new life with Tara.

“A golden carriage!” The 10 year old declared, overjoyed.

“Hop on!” Mr. Callahan urged. Tara didn’t need to be told twice.

“Wow! I’m just like Cinderella!”

“You ARE going to the ball!” Kathryn declared.

“Mom,” Eleanor interjected. “The MOMENT she gets tired, you bring her straight back home.”

She then stringently turned to her children. “Don’t eat ANY candy until after I’ve checked it thoroughly once I get home from work!”

After about an hour, Tara was exhausted. She had filled her bucket to the brim and decided to call it a night.

Daniel and company decided, after pleading with Kathryn that they were old enough to do so, to stay out longer.

After wheeling Tara back home and tucking her in on the couch with her blanket and popping Cinderella into the Betamax, Kathryn decided to shoot the breeze with the neighbours whose children were still out and about.

“Very nice weather we’re having this time of year!” Barbara Runswick declared on the colour television screen. Before Jo Van Fleet could chime in with her disgust, telling her daughter to think of something more “personal” to tell the prince (which Tara could never quite figure out what that meant) the phone rang.

The 10 year old went over to pick up the line. “Newman residence!”

Silence.

“Hello?”

Click.

Tara held the phone quizzically as the dial tone buzzed before placing it back on the receiver with a shrug, assuming it was merely a wrong number situation.

“His highness is in tolerable good health!” Pat Caroll declared as Tara assumed her original spot on the sofa and resuming her snacking on the candy, disobeying her mother’s earlier wishes. Tara had a lot of things, but willpower to wait until her mother got home from her concierge shift at a hotel all the way in Indianapolis was a tall order.

“Something personal, you said?” Pat clarified on the screen as Tara adjusted her blanket and got in a comfortable position that was JUST right.

And then the phone rang again.

Tara rolled her eyes and groaned as she went to go answer it again.

“Newman residence,” she answered with a hint of agitation in her voice.

Again it was total silence.

“I think your phone is broken! Fix it before you call ba—“

Click.

Upon hearing the dial tone, Tara placed the phone on the receiver with an annoyed huff.

“Please, your highness. I would like to be your bride,” Tara heard Lesley Ann Warren plead on her television screen, unable to resume her position before the phone rang again.

“What??” Tara answered the phone, now highly irate.

Click.

Tara was now fed up and decided to dial *69 and find out what this was all about.

Once the line connected, the other phone in the house started to ring.

A confused Tara ended the call and decided to call the operator and find out what exactly that meant.

“Operator. How can I help you?”

“Hi… um… I have a question,” Tara started.

“How can I help you, sugar?”

“So I’ve been getting this call. But when I answer the phone, nobody is there and the line gets cut.”

Suddenly there was a small click in the line as though another phone was being picked up, but Tara continued.

“So I pressed *69 to see who it was and the other phone in my house rang.”

“Well, sweetheart, that means the call is coming from inside the house.”

Suddenly everything went black. The television was off, the lights were out and the phone was emitting a dial tone.

Tara was terrified of the dark. She frantically headed to her room in search of her flashlight.

Once she got it, she attempted to turn it on. After a few frantic clicks, she examined it and realised the batteries had been removed.

Tara’s breath caught in her throat when she realised she was not alone in the house. She heard slow and heavy footsteps. Frozen like a deer in headlights, the footsteps drew closer and closer. Eventually, Tara came to her senses enough to have the presence of mind to close and lock her door. After doing that, she fled to a corner on her bed, huddled by her stuffed animals for sanctuary.

The doorknob jiggled and the door pounded. After a moment, it subsided and Tara sighed, waiting anxiously for the power to return.

And then the lock disengaged.

Tara’s eyes locked on the doorknob, transfixed with fear as it turned. The door swung open and the very first thing she saw was the Michael Meyers mask. Instead of a navy jumpsuit, the figure was wearing an all black outfit, but that was hardly the first thing that registered in Tara’s mind. The figure raised a kitchen knife above his head. Tara cowered in fear as the blade glittered in the moonlight.

Tara had seen a glimpse of Michael Meyers in action at the drive-in when she went to the bathroom. On her way back, she saw him slash Annie Brackett’s throat on a giant screen while the vehicle containing her grandmother and brother were still out of sight. That was all she needed to know to understand the level of danger she was in.

As he advanced 2 or 3 paces towards the frightened 10 year old, she bolted out of her room with a blood curdling scream and made a beeline for the front door, crying out for her grandmother as she blindly ran down the street, hiccuping and sobbing.

Back at the house, Eddie, Gareth, Jeff and Daniel were loudly guffawing at the success of their prank. Daniel let them into the house and guided the team around where need be, Jeff manned the phone and made the heavy footsteps, Gareth switched off the breaker box, and of course Eddie had the honour of being Michael Meyers, with some help from Daniel who gave him a key to the room he and Tara share. Daniel then took the batteries that he removed from Tara’s flashlight and placed them on the desk while Gareth turned the power back on.

“Gentlemen, we got her!” Eddie proudly declared waving around his mask.

“All the detentions, ISS, demerits and Saturday school sessions we got because of her tattling were not in vain!” Gareth cheered.

Daniel sat on the bed he and Tara were forced to share by their mother and smirked wickedly. “Sucker!” he chortled.

Tara, meanwhile, had run aimlessly in a panicked frenzy and didn’t have the slightest idea where she was going.

Back at the house, Daniel and his cohorts were all laughter and guffaws until they heard lights and sirens outside.

When Daniel peered out of his window, he saw an ambulance and a fire truck.

Upon closer investigation, the paramedics appeared to be tending to his sister.

The four immediately rushed out of the house to see to what was going on.

Tara was on the gurney face as white as a sheet with an oxygen mask over her little face. Tara had run so much that in her fragile state of already having yellow fever, she collapsed.

Eddie took the fall for the entire prank to spare his friends from having the law on them. He was in serious trouble. The 13 year old was forced to spend the night in a Juvenile Detention Centre and make a VERY EMBARRASSING phone call to his uncle come morning. From there, he had 2 choices. Stay in juvi for the next 3 months or, since this was his first offence and he had no priors, return the stolen mask, apologise to everyone whom was victimised by his actions, and attend a reform programme for at-risk youth.

Wayne, who was definitely not pleased to come home after working all night to a phone call that his nephew had been arrested, told Eddie that if he wanted to continue living in his trailer, that he only had one choice. Not that he ever would have kicked him out of course.

Eddie took all of the tongue lashings and verbal beatings. Every word he just took it. He didn’t argue against a single thing his uncle said. Eventually, though, it became too much and he just couldn’t take it anymore and broke down crying.

Now, if Eddie were having this conversation with his dad and not his uncle, his dad would have simply yelled at him more.

But I think it occurred to Wayne that being a grown adult and cussing out a 13 year old boy was accomplishing absolutely nothing. Especially when it was clear that Eddie already felt bad enough about how things ended up. The man took a deep breath and decided to collect himself and approach the situation from a different perspective.

“I know,” Eddie hiccuped and sobbed. “I messed up so bad! They had to take Tara to the hospital! What if she’s dead? What if I killed her?”

Wayne let out a heavy sigh and put a hand on Eddie’s buzzed head. “I’m sure she’s fine. I mean, you didn’t mean to hurt her that badly, did you?”

“No!” Eddie sobbed.

“Well,” Wayne sighed, kneeling down to Eddie’s level. “Why don’t we start with returning the stuff you stole and while we do that, you can think about what you want to say to her.”

After returning the stolen mask to Melvald’s and apologising to the owner (who didn’t even notice it had gone missing and had likely had 10 times the shrinkage just in that week alone), Eddie began drafting his apology letter to Tara.

After about 3 hours of not hearing a peep out of his nephew, Wayne decided to poke his head into the boy’s room. “Eddie?”

Wayne saw the floor absolutely littered with crumpled papers. Out of curiosity, he picked one up and tried to read it.

He sadly didn’t succeed, as it was entirely illegible and had several words crossed out.

A few other papers he glanced at were all much of the same. He looked over at his nephew, who was very clearly frustrated.

“Son, it doesn’t have to be a Pulitzer Prize winner. She just needs to know that you’re sorry.”

“No, Uncle Wayne! If I say the wrong thing, it’ll mess up everything!”

“Maybe you should take a break and come back to it.”

“No! I have to do this!”

“Well…” Wayne started with a sigh, “I’ll be right outside if you need me.”

Wayne had nodded off on the couch when he was awoken by the sounds of Eddie’s footsteps.

“I finished,” he said meekly.

Wayne looked at the clock. It was past 1 am.

“Well, ain’t no point in going down there now at this hour. We’ll head down there in the morning before I go to work, but you gotta get up, understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

Tara was at home on bedrest when Wayne’s pickup truck pulled up. Between having the life scared out of her, having to be calmed down and assured that Michael Meyers wasn’t real and that it was only Eddie in a mask being his usual meanie self and being scolded by her mother for disobeying instructions regarding her Halloween candy, all while she was still recovering from yellow fever, Tara was exhausted.

Which is why when she saw Wayne and Eddie hop out of the vehicle, she immediately hid under her bedsheets.

The knock on the front door, though quite distant from her, made her stomach rumble. The lock disengaging, while exceptionally quiet from anyone else’s perspective, was deafeningly loud. The sound of the front door opening made her heart drop.

“Mr. Munson,” Eleanor greeted with a somewhat hostile inflection. “I presume your nephew is here to apologise to my daughter?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Eddie interjected.

“You know, she’s very upset about having to come out and speak to you after what you did,” Eleanor said, matter-of-factly.

“I understand, ma’am,” Eddie said apologetically, avoiding eye contact with the older woman.

“Can’t you see the boy is sorry? Why kick him while he’s down?” Wayne admonished.

“Let’s get this over with,” Eleanor said, rolling her eyes.

Eleanor trailed upstairs, leaving Eddie and Wayne to listen to the ensuing argument. Sadly, Daniel was nowhere to be found. The boy had Saturday school for leaving gummy spiders all over the cafeteria floor for the lunch lady to clean up.

“Tara, stop dragging this out and get your butt down there!” Eleanor boomed.

Eddie winced at the sound of the 10 year old crying. He decided to set the apology letter down on the coffee table and walked back out to the pickup truck.

Wayne followed him outside. “Boy, where do you think you’re going?”

“I think it would be better if we left,” Eddie said, defeated.

Wayne could tell his nephew was emotionally exhausted. Between what had already happened with his parents, the constant emotional turmoil that he endured in family court during his entire pre-adolescence and now this, it was very clear that Eddie was fed up with constantly being seen as a criminal when he was usually the victim.

“Can we please go home now?” he practically begged.

Wayne sighed and opened the car door. “All right. I guess the letter gets it across well enough.”

The two got in the truck and drove back to the trailer park, leaving Tara with the letter.

That aforementioned letter which she didn’t care to read and immediately stuck into her desk drawer never to see the light of day again.

Tara had decided 2 things that day.

One, she was never going to interact with Eddie ever again unless she absolutely had to and avoid him whenever possible. And two, she was NEVER going to trust him EVER again.

#stranger things #eddie munson #season 4 stranger things #hawkins #hawkins middle school #middle school Eddie Munson #halloween

[morganbritton132]

Eddie is just trying to film a Tiktok to remind his fans about some upcoming shows but trails off when Steve says off-camera, “Hey, remember that RadioShack guy that was banging your mom?”

Eddie: *flips camera around to show where Steve and Jonathan are sitting on the couch*

Jonathan: …Bob.

Steve: Yeah, him. That toe guy from Lord of the Rings looks exactly like him, right?

Jonathan: …

Jonathan: Gollum???

Eddie: Toe, as in Po-tay-toe. He’s talking about Sam

Steve, snapping his fingers: That’s the guy

Jonathan: Oh.

Jonathan: I don’t see it.

#Eddie after looking up a picture of Bob: Yeah no. Steve’s right. that’s Samwise’s dad #I had this idea for a fic I never got the voice right for about Steve being pretty close with Bob when he was in middle school #and that no one knew so Steve didn’t find out that he died until like way after the fact #we’ve made every adult on the show Steve’s father figure why not Bob? #eddie munson tiktok saga #steve harrington #eddie munson #jonathan byers

[bit-odd-innit]

Listen I love rock star Eddie and author Eddie and voice actor Eddie and TikToker Eddie and Generally Beloved and Acclaimed in his Field Celebrity Eddie but I also follow this tiny metal record store on Instagram and all of their posts are the same photo of their storefront with captions like “the store is currently open” or “the store is currently closed” and in my heart of hearts this is the future I want for Eddie Munson.

#running a niche but well known and well lived record store while his husband teaches at the local middle school #stranger things #eddie munson #steddie

[lilpomelito]

Steve being Eddie’s bi or gay awakening whatever. Eddie thinks he’s just so grateful for Steve—I mean the man literally carried him in his arms out of hell like some mythological hero and then basically struck the fear of god on the medical staff who refused to help—so of course he’s obsessed with him, he owes him his life! Of course Eddie wants to know about his day even if Steve thinks it’s boring, of course he brings him lunch to work and maybe adds the little treats he’s seen Steve enjoys like Reese’s cups, of course he’s been listening to Pink Floyd and Dire Straits just because those are Steve’s favorites to gather inspiration. It’s only natural he’s sat Lucas down and demanded he explain the rules of basketball to him so Eddie can at least understand what’s going on when Wayne invites Steve over to watch the game. It’s not weird at all that he asked Jonathan to make a copy of that one cute picture he snapped of Steve roughhousing with Dustin when he develops the film. It’s not strange that he’s read Alice in Wonderland three times just because that’s Steve’s favorite novel. Of course he takes Steve to the movies and he buys him all the snacks he wants. It’s a given that they drive together on a weekend trip Chicago to see a show Steve’s been dying to see. The man saved his life! Eddie’s just grateful, that’s all. That’s why he’s so surprised when Robin confronts him about his “crush”, what crush?? Eddie likes girls! And yes, Steve is an attractive guy, half the town agrees, that’s not a controversial opinion. Who cares that Eddie thinks Steve could be a Hollywood heartthrob if he put his mind and talents to it. He doesn’t have a crush, that’s ridiculous. But Eddie is Eddie and he can’t just leave something be so of course he ends up cornering Nancy of all people to ask her how did she know she liked Steve back in junior year. To his absolute surprise she laughs in his face and tells him not to worry, she’s not interested, and she won’t stand in the way. She also says she’s happy for them, that she always knew Steve “played for both teams” and she’s happy he’s with someone who takes care of him. After that ridiculous conversation Nancy leaves, and Eddie is even more confused than before, because apparently Steve likes guys too, but Eddie doesn’t! Doesn’t he? Nancy is right that he likes taking care of Steve but thats because… well he’s running out of excuses isn’t he?

#just Eddie becoming absolutely obsessed with Steve #like a middle school girl with a crush #“I must assimilate all aspects of my crush’s personality that way he’ll notice me” #meanwhile Steve is under the impression they’ve been dating for a month they’re just taking things slow #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #robin buckley #nancy wheeler #stobin #mine

[bisexual-cyborg]

eddie munson at the beginning of the school year: oh yeah im gonna corrupt these teens with d&d and rock & roll

Eddie munson by school break: ooOHH FUCK THE CHILDREN ARE CORRUPTING ME I REPEAT THE CHILDREN ARE CORRUPTING ME

#nothing funnier than this guy who’s like 20 cause he got held back 2 years #thinking he’s super metal and gonna turn these kids into rebels #only for them to turn up months later in the middle of a crisis #absolutely chill as fuck #with like 2 of the most popular prissy students in high school #and all of them are like ‘yeah we regularly fight monsters and the government get a grip’ #Eddie just realising that all the stuff he put in his campaigns is nothing compared to what these random kids he took under his wing #have done regularly #still waiting for someone to bring up the fact that Dustin electrocuted that Russian torture doc to death a while ago #eddie munson #stranger things #hellfire club #stranger things 4 #dustin henderson #Mike wheeler #lucas sinclair #max mayfield #bee talks

[nerdnameddinkey]

chocolate button eyes Eddie is a star of this sketch page imo

#steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #my art #fanart #middle school steddie

[inthewychelm]

ive been thinking about hard of hearing steve, who started losing his hearing after starcourt, the scoops troops are the first to find out because of how attached they are, robin erica and dustin all insist on steve learning to sign but he's insecure about learning a new language so they slowly learn and start teaching him

after vecna, eddie gets adopted to their little group and starts picking up on the signs and learning on his own, still struggles to hold a conversation, esp with the likes of robin or dustin, but he atleast knows simple words and phrases enough to communicate, eddie also gets into the habit of signing ILY to steve before he leaves, except steve rarely studies asl on his own most of what he remembers is from robin/erica/dustin, who never thought to teach him that specific sign, so steve just thinks eddie is just being a metalhead throwing up a 'rock on' gesture, hes still absolutely endeared by eddie doing this but he doesn't realize that eddie saying he loves him everyday, what follows is a ridiculous amount of pining where only steve doesn't know because everyone else know what that sign means, he only finds out because after gossiping with robin(who has tried to tell steve that its reciprocated) about eddie, erica interupts their convo by telling steve that eddie tells him he loves steve everyday (that clown is so obviously in love with you, how are you still pining? you're supposed to be a expert, steve?)

(edit 07/23: this fic is now on ao3)

#she says this loudly in the middle of an empty family video eddie walks in during the middle of the argument that follows #immediately gets roasted and gets a boyfriend bc steve is not running from the chance in front of him #yes i am projecting my hearing loss onto steve deal with it #also i dont like the idea that steve hates himself for losing his hearing even if its from tramua bc it makes me feel shitty about mine #instead i like to think he leans into it like a grandpa he might never get hearing aids or maybe he does and avoids ever turning them on #but i do think he would be insecure about trying to learn a new language when he previously has shown to struggle with school #so even after eight months of learning he's still kinda learning basic signs while the other scoop troops are catching on more #hard of hearing steve is something so personal to me #stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #hoh steve harrington #hard of hearing steve harrington #stranger things headcanons #steddie ficlet

[delta-piscium]

Eddie does become quite famous for his music and that means he sometimes has to go to these mind numbing events where people will sneer at him until they recognize who he is, then they’ll suddenly pretend they’re old friends, they’ll ask for concert tickets and backstage passes

he mostly hates them but whenever Steve is able to come he’s so god damn excited. Steve’s parents used to drag him along to their business events and even though it’s different industries it’s all the same. Steve knows these crowds, he grew up with them and they bring out the bitchiest upper middle class version of him, a Steve who has passive aggression and faux politeness down to an art

Eddie will watch on in delighted awe as his husband, all while smiling mildly and sipping wine, destroys people. just cuts into them and also making everything sound nice, innocuous. Most of them don’t even realize it’s happening they just suddenly find themselves gaping, searching for words, as they’re backed into a corner

and Steve will look at them, tilt his head and wait them out, but before they get the chance to backtrack he’ll hum, shrug and walk away, Eddie on his heel asking if he wants to get out of there, like right now? or maybe find a bathroom?

#bitchy Steve using all that upper middle class bullshit to tear assholes down is so close to my heart #his mom didn’t teach him a lot but by god did she teach him how to be passive aggressive and absolutely ruin someone without them clocking #it until it’s too late #Eddie who had several awakenings in high school about mean girl Steve loves #it so so much #and Steve will be embarrassed and apologize like ‘sorry idk what happened’ and Eddie is like ‘all my wet dreams babe’ #and Steve will roll his eyes but he loves that Eddie likes this part of him bc he gets insecure about being too king Steve-y #but this is like only yo people who deserves it #he doesn’t just run rampant bitching at people oh no he’ll hear or so something #he’ll even hold back and give them a chance to prove him wrong but they rarely do #that’s when he starts all honey voiced to ruin them and Eddie through it all is full on heart eyes #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #my post #dels steddie thoughts

[harritudur]

the origins of 🇨orroded 🇨offin, february 1980 (based on this post by @starkie-daf)

#you can rip this headcanon out of my cold dead hands #he had a crush on her since the first time he saw her at middle school #chrissy cunningham #eddie munson #special guests: #jeff #gareth #eddissy #hellcheer #eddie x chrissy

[livwritesstuff]

one thing Steve and Eddie were not prepared for at ALL when they adopted three kids was

like

siblings

they’re both only children for better or for worse, and sure, they'd had close friends that they thought of as siblings (coughcoughrobinandstevecoughcough) but they were surprised to find out that it's nothing like being actually siblings. it takes a long time for the two of them to catch on to the dynamics that the girls seem to just have innately within them

the fighting tends to be mostly between Moe and Robbie. Hazel is the sweet angel baby out of the three and not all that interested arguing about anything

(this creates its own problems though bc Steve and Ed have to make sure she’s not getting completely steam-rolled by her older sisters)

at ages 5 and 3, Moe was aggressively gaslighting Robbie into thinking her favorite color was purple, so that when there were pink and purple items up for grabs, she could have the pink one without any sort of obstacle

at the time, Robbie's personal hero was Moe, so she bought it

they'd been sort of relieved about having three girls because they figured the roughhousing would be kept to a minimum, and it was true that the girls didn't roughhouse all that much, but when they fought, it was fucking brutal. the worst of it was when Moe threw a small chair from a wooden dollhouse set at Robbie's head and she'd needed to go to the E.R. for stitches

around middle school, the girls learned how to keep the whaling on each other completely silent (see this TikTok for reference), and by then they'd also learned some self restraint, so the hospital visits ceased around the same time

uno and sorry are banned in their house. co-op games don't go over all that well either (they even argue about puzzles so sometimes Steve and Eddie just grit their teeth and endure a game night for the memories and quality time and whatever).

once the girls are older, trivia-based games tend to be the go-to. they've all got their own gaps in knowledge so there's enough material for ribbing each other but the game is still able to carry itself

Moe/Steve are the only ones who can answer sports questions without making wild guesses Hazel usually dominates pop culture and science Robbie and Ed are the best at history and art they all suck at geography

who remembers the cranium games? do we recall hullabaloo? Harrington family fav

Steve and Eddie never do get a sense of when exactly the girls are fighting and when they’re conspiring together, mostly because they can switch between the two states on a dime and their poor dads can’t keep up

#and thats not even getting into how much they fight over clothing #it caught steve and ed off guard because they were all different sizes through elementary school but once they hit middle school and they’r #shit totally hits the fan #steve debates putting locks on the girls’ closets just so he can have a moment of peace #steddie #steddie dads #liv’s steddie dads verse #steve harrington #eddie munson

[on-coming-dusk]

I bet if Eddie Munson went to middle school in Hawkins that he would have gotten along really well with Mr Clarke

Okay okay I know - Mr Clarke is the nerdy science teacher who tends to look after the kids like the party. But don't just dismiss the possibility because Eddie isn't like the kids.

I'm telling you that 1) Scott Clarke does not hold favorites, it just doesn't feel like something he would do, every student is valid in his eyes! 2) Eddie Munson might have failed his senior years twice but he is by no means an idiot.

Mr Clarke doesn't look down on Eddie for not completing assignments. He knows that Eddie knows the material, is always happy when Eddie participates in class.

And Eddie would never admit it but he actually thinks Mr Clarke is super fucking cool. He admires how passionate this man is about his job, is the first one his line of defense of the other kids are being jerks to him.

Eddie does no harm and takes no shit and is more than willing to look down the nose at someone like Tommy Hagan for disrespecting a tacher as cool as Mr Clarke, a teacher who actually cares.

#stranger things #hawkins indiana #mr clarke #scott clarke #eddie munson #middle school eddie munson #hawkins middle school #stranger things headcanons #stranger things thoughts #eddie is the kid who would sit and talk to mr clarke for ages about sound waves and how cool it is that is all music really is

[ambrossart]

THE SHRIEKING QUEEN'S CATACOMBS

— Session 1: Friday, May 23, 1980

summary: on the first day of scott sloman's infamous summer D&D campaign, you're excited to showcase your original character and sorely disappointed by eddie's lack of creativity. you promised chrissy you would be nice to eddie this summer, but...

seriously, that's the best you could come up with, munson?

pairing: eddie munson x dwm!reader word count: 8,450 warnings: middle school; young!eddie; insecure!eddie; secret crushes; the unnamed freak is named grant in this series; inaccurate d&d gameplay; seriously, I'm taking a lot of creative liberties here; eddie has a tiny crush on chrissy

series masterpost | series playlist | fanfiction masterlist

“Okay, should we go over the rules one more time?”

“No… I think I got ‘em down pretty well.”  

“Let’s go over them one more time.”  

Chrissy Cunningham paced the floor of her bedroom with an authoritative stride, her arms folded neatly behind her back, chin held proudly in the air. Standing at only five-foot-one, she looked like an adorable little drill sergeant… until she looked over at you, sitting on her bed with your chest puffed out and hand raised in mock salute; then her composure shattered and she reverted back to her goofy, giggling, eleven-year-old self. 

“Don’t make me laugh,” she said. 

“What? I’m showing you respect.” 

Chrissy raised her eyebrows in friendly disapproval. “Stop,” she said. “We need to be serious.” So she donned an expression of stern command and resumed her stride. “Okay, repeat after me: I will not be mean to Eddie.”  

“I will not be mean to Eddie.”  

“I will not mock him.”  

“I will not mock him.”  

“I will not tease him.”  

“I will not tease him.”  

“I will not call him names.”  

“I will not call him names.”  

“I will laugh only when it’s appropriate, and in a good-hearted manner.”  

“Wait, how are we defining appropriate?”  

“Just repeat it, please.”  

You sighed in surrender and echoed your best friend’s words dutifully: “I will laugh only when it’s appropriate, and in a good-hearted manner… even though I don’t really know what that means.” 

Chrissy shot you a strict glare and continued: “I will not let my anxiety make me forget rules one through five.”  

“I will not let my anxiety make me forget rules one through five.”  

Chrissy stopped in front of you, put her hands on your knees, and smiled warmly. “I’m gonna have fun this summer.”

“I’m gonna have fun this summer.” 

“I’m gonna show Eddie what a smart, creative, and wonderful person I am.” 

“Well…” You looked away, embarrassed. 

“Come on, say it.” Chrissy started shaking your knees gently. “C’mom, c’mon, you gotta say it.” 

Her words made you squirm a little. Timidly, you looked at her and said in a bashful voice, “I’m gonna show Eddie what a smart, creative, and wonderful person I am.” 

“Because you are.” 

“… Because I am.” 

Her smile grew. “Good!” She drummed her hands on your knees and stepped away from you. While rifling through her desk drawers, she said, “So what game are you playing exactly? Is it like a board game or something?”

“Uh, no… it’s like this fantasy roleplaying game. I don’t really know how to describe it.” 

“But you know how to play it, right?” 

��Yeah, for the most part.” 

“For the most part?” Now Chrissy sounded worried. “I thought you had been practicing. Isn’t that what you spent the last two weeks doing?”

“Well, yeah… but it’s a surprisingly complicated game.” 

“You weren’t paying attention, were you?”

“No, I totally was, I promise.” You had put in the time and the effort. Every day after school, you rushed home, hopped on your bike, and peddled down the street to the Wheeler house. You sat in that stuffy, smelly basement for two hours while a group of third-grade boys explained all the rules and then bickered over said rules. “There was just a lot of information being thrown at me in a short period of time. And I guess not everyone plays the game the same way, either, so even if I learned how they play the game, I still might not know how they will play the game, so… I’m just gonna wing it and hope my creativity saves me. Dustin said I made a pretty cool character for my first try, so…”

“Who?”

“Dustin Henderson. Third-grader. Doesn’t matter. The point is…” 

Mrs. Cunningham poked her head into the room and said brightly, “Chrissy, dear, don’t forget we have to leave in twenty minutes.” Then she saw you and her whole demeanor frosted over. “Oh… I didn’t realize you had company.” 

You had been Chrissy’s best friend for five years and Mrs. Cunningham still referred to you as “company.” It was like she didn’t even see you as a person. You were just this disgusting blob that took up space in her daughter’s life. 

“I just stopped by for a minute,” you told her. “I’ll be leaving soon.” 

“Oh, don’t be silly,” she said. “You know you’re always welcome here.”

(But were you, really?)

Mrs. Cunningham lingered in the doorway for a moment longer, smiling at you and restlessly wringing her hands. Before leaving, she tipped her head toward her daughter and said, “Chrissy, stop slouching, dear.”

Chrissy heaved a frustrated sigh. Then she padded across the room and closed her bedroom door. When she turned around, you both said in perfect unison, “Chrissy, stop slouching, dear,” and broke up into giggles. She was still laughing as she hopped onto the bed and sat down cross-legged beside you.

You turned around to face her. “So where are you going in twenty minutes?” 

“Just the salon,” she answered uncaringly. 

“Oh, please tell me you’re not getting a perm like your mother. I’ll hold you down and shave your head if you do.” 

“If she makes me get a perm, I’ll shave my own head. It’s just a trim. She makes me get one every three weeks; otherwise, I’ll get split ends.” 

“Oh, split ends… the scourge of society.” 

“Shut up,” Chrissy said, giving you a playful swat. “Be nice or I won’t give you your present.” 

You perked up. “A present, you say?”

“Mhm.” Chrissy flashed an excited smile, then reached behind her back and pulled out a colorful woven bracelet. “I made this for you.” 

You raised your eyebrow curiously. “Another friendship bracelet?” 

“No, this one’s not a friendship bracelet.” Leaning forward, she carefully tied the bracelet onto your left wrist. Its vibrant color perfectly complemented the other bracelet she had made for you. “This one’s for good luck.” 

You admired the bracelet for a moment, thanked her for making it, then felt your stomach bubble and churn. “Okay, now I’m getting anxious.”

“Don’t be anxious,” Chrissy said. “You’re gonna be fine.” 

But you still weren’t convinced.

“What time is it?” you asked. 

Chrissy looked over her shoulder and glanced at the alarm clock on her nightstand. “Nine thirty-five.”

“Oh crap,” you said, and got up. “I better get going.” 

You grabbed your backpack off the floor, slung it over your right shoulder, and exited her bedroom. Chrissy followed you downstairs and opened the front door for you.

Before heading out, you turned back with sudden panic and said, “Should we go over the rules one more time?”

Chrissy shook her head. “No, you know the rules. Just be your normal charming, delightful self and you’ll be fine, okay? I promise.” 

She sent you off with a gentle shove, and you went uneasily: down the porch steps, down the cobblestone walkway, and found your bike sitting beside the garage. You put up the kickstand and swung your leg over the seat, but just as you were about to push off, a dreadful thought came to your mind. You replanted your foot and looked up at Chrissy with a worried frown. 

“Hey, what if it doesn’t work?” you asked. 

“What do you mean?”

“Like… what if I do all this and Eddie still hates me?” You shrugged, demoralized. “What then?”

Now Chrissy was frowning, too. “Well, at least you’ll know you gave it your best shot.” 

Four blocks away, Scott Sloman was dressed in his Sunday best and restlessly pacing his basement, which was now pristine thanks to his diligent efforts the day before. 

On that morning, Scottie had woken up early, consumed a hearty breakfast of eggs, bacon, sausage, and French toast (all prepared by his lovely mother, of course; Mrs. Sloman was an excellent cook), pulled on his rubber gloves, went downstairs, and got to work. It took him hours, but it was worth it. Every crumb, every cobweb, every splatter, every stain had been expertly tracked down and eliminated with the toughest chemicals money could buy. Now every surface sparkled radiantly, and the air carried a whimsical, woodsy scent that transported you to the crisp forests of New England—not that Scottie had ever been to New England, but he imagined that’s what its forests smelled like. 

He grabbed the can of EVERGREEN Air Freshener and gave it a vigorous shake.

“Do not spray that again,” Jeff told him. “You’re gonna give us all cancer.” 

“I’ll stop spraying when you guys stop smelling.” 

He pressed down hard on the nozzle and sprayed a thick cloud of EVERGREEN mist into the air. It showered over the table like a light drizzle of rain, getting on everyone’s hair, everyone’s clothes, and speckling the open page of Eddie Munson’s notebook. 

Eddie, who had been tuning everyone out and listening to music on his Walkman, now looked up with bewildered annoyance. “Dude, come on…” He fanned the remaining mist away with his hand and immediately went back to his notes. 

Observing him, Grant said to Jeff, “Damn, Eddie’s really in the zone today.”

It wasn’t exactly unusual for him to be this withdrawn. Eddie Munson took his D&D very seriously—perhaps a bit too seriously, although no one would ever dare tell him that. Before every session, while everyone else joked around and snacked on donuts and muffins (also prepared by Mrs. Sloman), Eddie sat quietly in his chair, the same chair he occupied for every session, and gradually slipped further… and further away. The Walkman, a gift from his uncle for his fourteenth birthday, only accelerated his emotional departure.

But he would return eventually. He always did. 

“You think he’s anxious about her coming?” Grant asked.

Jeff frowned guiltily. “Probably.” 

Beside Grant, Gareth was sharpening his pencil with a small metal pocket sharpener. From the look on his face, you would have thought he was honing a warblade. 

“He’s preparing his mind for battle,” Gareth said, his blue eyes burning with a ferocious and frightening intensity. “The enemy draws near. She will soon be at our gates.” He withdrew his pencil and blew fiercely on the pointed tip. “We must be ready to meet her.”

Jeff and Grant rolled their eyes. It was way too early in the morning for this. 

“She’s not the enemy,” Jeff said.

“Well, you’re a traitor,” Gareth replied. “Yeah, Eddie told me you’re the one who invited her, you Judas.”

“What? Oh c’mon, man, don’t start that now.” 

“How’d she do it?” Gareth asked. “Did she blackmail you? Bribe you? I didn’t realize your loyalty could be so easily bought, Jeff.”

“Dude, what are you talking about?” 

Grant, ever the rational one, said, “Ignore him. Gareth’s just mad she beat him in the spelling bee last year.”

And that’s when Gareth fired back with unseemly anger: “She did not beat me in the spelling bee! That whole competition was rigged right from the start. Every round, she got the easiest words while I got stuck with all the hard ones. It was ridiculous, absolutely ridiculous. I’m telling you, the whole thing was a sham!”

Jeff and Grant exchanged an amused glance. “My mistake,” Grant said while Jeff snickered. “Clearly you’ve moved on from this.” 

Gareth waved him off. “Oh shut up, Grant. Look, this is about way more than a spelling bee, okay? That girl is a heartless, horrible devil-woman. I will not break bread with her. I will not fight alongside her on the battlefield. I won’t, I won’t, and neither will Eddie.” Gareth clapped Eddie on the shoulder and said, “Right, Eddie?”

The older boy flinched, looked up, and pulled the left speaker box away from his ear. “What?”

“We’re standing together, right? Against our common enemy?”

Eddie’s eyebrows knitted together. “I dunno what you’re talking about.” 

And now Scott Sloman had heard enough. “Are you guys even listening to me? Come on, this is a huge moment for us… for me, especially. I need you all to be on your best behavior today. No burping. No farting. Sit up straight and keep your elbows off the table, gentlemen. Today, we have a young lady gracing our party.” 

Gareth sneered. “She’s no lady. She’s a hellbeast.”  

Scottie slammed his fist on the table. “See, this is the kinda shit I’m talking about! You psychos are gonna scare her off before she even—” He saw that Eddie had already put his headphones back on, an act of subtle but profound defiance. Scottie’s jaw dropped. “Eddie… Eddie… Hey, Eddie, I’m talking here.” 

“Leave him alone,” Jeff said. “He’s getting into character.” 

Scottie scoffed at that. “Oh please… Eddie uses the same character for every campaign. If he doesn’t know his character by now, he never will.” 

He snatched the Walkman off the table and yanked it away, viciously ripping the headphone jack from the plug. 

Eddie’s head jerked up in startled surprise. “Dude, what the fuck—” 

“I’m doing this for your own good, Eddie. It’s about time you learn how to socialize with the fairer sex.”

Eddie glared at him, exasperated. “I know how to talk to girls.” 

“Really?” Scottie shot him a dubious look. “Okay, Eddie… how many words have you said to that cheerleader you think’s so cute?” 

“Zero,” Grant answered for him. “He’s said zero words to her.”  

Eddie just sighed miserably. “Can I have my Walkman back, please?”  

“No, Eddie, you can’t,” and Scottie set the cassette player on the shelf behind him. “See, this is exactly my point, you guys. We have a huge opportunity here. A girl is coming to play D&D with us. And not just any girl. One of the popular girls! Do you guys understand what this means? If we play our cards right, maybe she’ll start bringing her friends. Her popular friends. Her pretty friends.” 

“Is that what you think’s gonna happen?” Jeff asked. “You think a bunch of cheerleaders are gonna wanna play D&D with you?” 

Scottie shrugged and said in a waning voice, “Well, you never know…”  

Eddie put his head in his hands. “I knew this was gonna happen. I knew this was gonna happen. She’s not even here yet and she’s already ruining the game.” 

“Hey, where is she, anyway?” Grant said. “It’s already after ten. Are we sure she’s even gonna show?” 

“She probably won’t,” said Gareth. He leaned back in his chair, satisfied and smug. “Yeah, I bet she chickened out like the coward she is. Screw her, I say we start without her.”  

“We’re not starting without her,” Jeff said. “Look, she’ll be here, okay?”

“Spoken like a true traitor.” 

“Dude, stop calling me a—” 

Suddenly, the doorbell chimed. The sound echoed over their heads like a distant warhorn on a cold, fog-covered battlefield. Gareth reached for his newly sharpened pencil and held it like a knife. 

“She’s here.”

You stood on the front porch with your backpack hooked on your shoulder and your arms crossed tightly in front of you, shivering uncontrollably in the sunny, seventy-nine-degree weather. 

Almost a minute had passed and nobody was answering the door. This made your stomach flutter nervously. You looked around and wondered if perhaps you were at the wrong house, (and wouldn’t that be lucky? Oh well, looks like I better give up and go home…) but you weren’t. The number displayed beside the door matched the address Scottie had given you. This was Scott Sloman’s house. You were at the right place. And now you had no excuse to leave. 

You stepped forward and—oh, how your hand trembled!—rang the doorbell again. The sound made your heart jump in panic. It started bucking wildly in your chest, desperate to break out of your ribcage and escape. Excuse or no excuse, you wanted to get the hell outta there!

“Calm down,” you kept telling yourself. “Calm down. Calm down. You’re gonna be fine, you’re gonna be fine, you’re gonna be…”

(But what if it doesn’t work?)

“… fine,” you whispered, except now you only half believed it, and that half wasn’t strong enough to keep your feet on the porch.  

You shuffled back a step, then another, looked over your shoulder, and stared longingly down the street.

From here, the road seemed so endless, so… tempting. You could see yourself on that road, on your bike, peddling fast and far away. Back to your house. Back to your bedroom. Lying on your bed, opening your favorite book, and escaping into a safe, snug little world. You could spend hours hiding in there. It would be perfect. Then, eventually, you would have to face Chrissy. She would be a little frustrated and disappointed with you, but she would probably forgive you in a day or two. Chrissy was compassionate like that.

Yeah, Chrissy would forgive you. She would forgive you, and hug you, and tell you that everything would be okay. 

Okay… 

Okay… 

Okay, I’ll just go home then. It’s probably for the best, anyway. 

You fled down the stairs and ran to your bike. It was sitting on the front lawn with everyone else’s, Jeff’s standing upright on its kickstand, the others lying on their sides in the grass, their painted steel frames glimmering in the sunlight… all but one, anyway; one was too dull to properly catch the light. You had recognized Eddie’s bike as soon as you arrived at the house. His stood out because the frame was oddly bent and most of the paint had been scratched off. It was an old bike, purchased secondhand from secondhand at a yard sale two years ago. To you, it might as well have been brand new.

“He’s here,” you whispered, and felt your face get delightfully warm. 

Eddie was here, he was here, finally within reach. All you had to do was walk through that door. 

Excitement swept through you, girlish and unaffected, and now you were smiling ridiculously to yourself, all your fears forgotten… for now, anyway. You pressed your palms to your overheated cheeks and thought, This is my chance. This is my only chance. 

Nervous as you were, terrified as you were, you had to see this through. 

Determination burned inside you. You stepped away from your bike and—  

“Hey, you made it!” Scott Sloman was standing on his front porch with his hand raised high in a friendly wave. He frowned when he saw that you were beside your bike. “Where are you going?” 

You looked at your bike, then back at Scottie. “Oh, well… I was just, uh…” You forced a laugh and feigned embarrassment. “I'm so stupid, I thought I was at the wrong house for a second.”    

“Oh…” Scottie’s face brightened instantly. He laughed along with you. “Nope, you found us just fine. C’mon inside, everyone’s waiting for you.”  

Everyone? you thought for a second, hopeful, but then you realized that probably wasn’t true. Eddie wasn’t waiting for you. He wasn’t eager to see you. He didn’t want you there at all. But that was okay. 

You took a deep breath and started walking toward the house, Chrissy’s good luck bracelet dangling from your wrist. 

All right, I’ve got a huge uphill battle ahead of me. Now I’m probably gonna fail miserably, but… at least I’ll know I gave it my best shot. 

“Sorry I’m late,” you said to Scottie. He was leading you through the house to the basement, where everyone else was waiting… where Eddie was waiting. You could hardly believe this was happening. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Scottie replied sheepishly. He was feeling a little awkward after his earlier faux pas at the front door. When you walked in, Scottie greeted you with this dramatic, over-the-top gentleman’s bow. Unable to hide your discomfort, you grimaced and drew away from him. Scottie’s face turned beet red. He said, That was really weird, wasn’t it? And you replied, Yeah, it was. Please don’t ever do that again. Now Scottie felt a little self-conscious around you. He could barely look you in the eye without blushing.      

“Of course,” he went on, “if it happens again, I’ll have no choice but to imprison you.”

That caught you off guard. You almost tripped over your own foot. “Wait, what?”  

Scottie’s eyes widened. His face flushed a deep pink. “Oh, your character, not you. Sorry, that sounded a lot creepier than I intended. Yeah, usually when someone’s late I punish them by having their character ambushed early in the game and thrown into some sorta prison. Then they have to find a way to escape on their own. It sounds really cruel, but it’s actually a lotta fun. Like last year, Gareth was late and I threw his character into the fighting pits and he had to fight for his freedom. He didn’t make it out, though.” Scottie laughed to himself, remembering. “Yeah, Gareth dies a lot in the game. You’ll see. His deaths are pretty legendary… Oh, hey, that reminds me, have you made a character yet? It’s no big deal if you haven’t. We can help you make one today.”  

“Thanks,” you said, “but I already made one.”  

“Oh, sweet, awesome. Wait, you didn’t make a magic-user, did you?” 

You shook your head. All those spells seemed too complicated to you. 

“Okay, good. I only ask ‘cause we try to keep the party as balanced as possible; otherwise, the story really suffers. Plus Eddie’s kind of our resident spellcaster, and he really hates it when people use the same class as him. He’s pretty weird about it, actually. But then again, Eddie’s pretty weird about everything. I don’t think I need to tell you that, though.”  

You smirked, understanding. “Yeah, sounds like Eddie’s a big baby.”  

(Shit, was that mean?)

Scottie looked at you in surprise. His face broke into a huge grin. “I am so glad you’re here,” he said, chuckling. Then he walked through the kitchen and opened the basement door for you. “Ladies first,” he said, and you moved past him and slowly began your descent. 

For as long as you lived, you would never forget that walk downstairs. You could recall every detail perfectly. The way the wooden railing felt under your fingers—smooth yet rough in certain places. The way the steps creaked as you put your weight on them. The hushed voices that emerged from below: Gareth’s, Jeff’s, Grant’s… Eddie’s. The scent of pine, pungent and overwhelming. It smacked you in the face as soon as you took your first step, and it only got stronger the further you went. It was such a strange smell. Initially, it made you think of those little tree air fresheners that everyone hung in their cars. Now it only made you think of that basement, that weirdly clean basement, and the first time you saw Eddie sitting at the table.

His dark brown eyes found you instantly, but they didn’t look at you—they didn’t see you—not really. Like always, his eyes just sort of hovered on you for a second and then darted away. Eddie was always running away from you. It was hard not to feel a little disheartened after that. 

So this is how it begins, huh? Wonderful. 

You found your seat next to Jeff and sat down. He turned to you with a smile. 

“Cutting it pretty close there, huh?” He was laughing, but you could hear the concern in his voice. “For a second, I seriously thought you were gonna bail.” 

“Honestly, I almost did,” you confessed quietly, keeping your head low and your hand cupped over your mouth. “I’m kinda freaking out here, Jeff.” 

Being seated directly across from Eddie certainly didn’t help. How were you supposed to keep your composure with him so close? The second he made eye contact with you—if he ever made eye contact with you—you were gonna blow like a geyser, like Old Faithful, and there was no telling what kind of scorching hot insults were gonna come spewing out of your mouth. You could already feel them bubbling inside you, dangerous and unpredictable. You were a powder keg of emotions right now. One good spark and, boom, you were gonna explode. Oh, this is gonna be bad. 

Jeff nudged your arm gently with his elbow. It disarmed you a little. “Relax,” he said. “You’ve got this, okay? Just, you know…” 

“Be nice,” you said. “Yeah, I know.”  

Jeff’s eyes softened. “I was gonna say be yourself,” he said. 

But what if “yourself” wasn’t all that great? 

Taking his words to heart, you leaned over and smiled at Grant, ignoring the image of Eddie that haunted the outermost edge of your vision. He wasn’t looking at you, anyway. 

“Hey, Grant.”  

“Hello,” Grant replied neutrally.

“I heard you got a perfect score on your English final. Very impressive, sir.”  

Grant shrugged modestly. Perfect scores didn’t excite him as much as they used to. “How’d you do?” he asked. “You usually test pretty well, don’t you?” 

“Eh, well enough,” you said, still very aware of Eddie’s presence. You were dying to have him look at you. Actually, you would have died if he looked at you. “I got all the multiple-choice questions right, but by the time I got to the final essay, I just really wanted to go home, you know? It was my last test of the day. My grade was pretty much set. I wasn’t in the mood to write this long, boring essay, so… yeah, I kinda half-assed it. Oh well. Still got an A.”

“God, you are so full of yourself,” Gareth said. His voice was acidic and dripping with disdain. 

Unbothered, you faced him with a smile. “What’s up, Gareth? Long time no see. How are you doing?”

“Stupendous,” he blurted out with a fierceness that was borderline comical. Boy, if you weren’t trying so hard to be on your best behavior right now, you would have had some colorful words for him… words he probably couldn’t spell.  

Smirking, you said, “So did your mommy pack you a juice box?”

Gareth scoffed. “Did your mommy pack you a…?” He closed his mouth, grabbed his sharpened pencil, and started violently hammering the tip into his notebook: WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK!

Your eyes widened with surprised glee. Then you turned to Eddie and all your confidence splintered like Gareth’s poor pencil. 

Just say something to him. 

Say something.

Anything! 

Hey, Eddie, how’d your finals go? Are you excited for high school next year? I’m not. It’s gonna be the worst day of my life. I dunno how I’m gonna survive two years without you. In fact, I’ll probably cry every day. Please look at me. I’d give anything to have you look at me. You’re the weirdest, most fascinating person I’ve ever met in my life. I’m obsessed with you. I think I might even be in love with you. 

Shit. 

All of a sudden, your face felt unbearably hot. You hid it before anyone else could see and started digging through your backpack, pulling out all of your supplies and stacking them on the table in front of you: a leftover notebook from school, a purple folder containing your character sheet, a few pencils, an eraser, a slightly worn, dog-eared copy of The Players Handbook, and a small drawstring bag of dice. You grabbed that last and tossed it on top of your pile. When you sat up again, you found five pairs of eyes staring at you… including Eddie’s, which were suspicious but also curious. You didn’t know whether to be delighted or offended. 

You went with offended. 

“What?” you snapped, causing everyone to immediately look away. It was an instinctive reaction on your part. You didn’t like people staring at you. 

A voice spoke from your left. “The lady comes prepared,” Scottie said, smiling at you from behind his screen. 

“Huh?” 

“Eddie said you weren’t gonna be prepared.” 

Eddie jumped as if struck from the side. “What? I didn’t say that.” 

“Yes, you did,” Scottie told him. “You said exactly that. You said she wasn’t gonna be prepared and we were gonna have to let her borrow our stuff. Isn’t that what he said, Grant?”

“Yes, it is. That’s exactly what he said.” 

Eddie looked around, dumbstruck. Then he slumped back into his chair like a sullen child. “Hey, where’d you get all that stuff, anyway?” he asked, mumbling the words into the table.  

It took a second for you to realize Eddie was speaking to you. As soon as it clicked, your whole body froze with panic. “Umm, I borrowed it…?” 

“From who?”

“From whom,” Grant corrected, and Eddie just rolled his eyes. 

You crossed your arms protectively over your chest. You should have been happy that Eddie was talking to you. No, you should have been thrilled that Eddie was talking to you. Yeah, you should have been doing cartwheels and somersaults and sobbing with pure joy, but for some reason you weren’t—you couldn’t—because there was something in his tone that really rubbed you the wrong way. Already, you feel your claws coming out and digging into your bicep. 

“Are you seriously interrogating me right now?”

Eddie’s eyes widened. “What?” he said, almost swallowing the word. “I’m not interrogating you, I’m just… I’m just curious who loaned you all that stuff, that’s all.”

“What difference does it make to you?” 

“It doesn’t make any difference. I’m just asking you a question.”  

“Well, you’re coming off pretty aggressive right now.” 

“She’s right,” Scottie said. “You are acting a little aggressive, Eddie.”

That, of course, was when Gareth decided to tag in. “What?” he cried. “He’s not being aggressive. She’s the one being aggressive!”

Grant said, “Honestly, you’re all being a little aggressive right now.” 

“Hey, Eddie’s the only one yelling here.” 

“I’m not yelling. I’m defending myself!” 

“You sure?” you said. “‘Cause it kinda sounds like you’re yelling.” 

To your right, Jeff was rubbing his forehead in frustration. “Stop it,” he muttered under his breath. 

“Wait, why are you telling me to stop? He’s the one acting like an asshole!” 

Eddie’s face turned bright red. He threw up his hands and shouted, “How am I being an asshole? I’m asking a perfectly valid question and you’re biting my head off for no reason. Seriously, am I the only one hearing this? Oh my god, I feel like I’m going crazy right now!” His mouth opened and closed wordlessly. “I… I just… I… I… I give up. I give up.” He fell back into his seat, closed his eyes, and took a deep, deep breath, nostrils flaring as he released all of his tension. “Can we just start the game, please?”

“Yes,” Scottie took over. “Yeah, let’s get started.” 

Your heart was pounding as you settled back into your chair. What the hell just happened? you thought, mortified. You felt like you had woken up to the aftermath of a violent massacre and discovered blood all over your hands. 

Across from you, Eddie was sitting with his forehead propped on his fist, still steaming from your brief but catastrophic interaction. Next to him, Gareth was glaring at you while he savagely sharpened his other pencil.  

“You proud of yourself?” Jeff asked. 

“Nope,” you said. “No, I’m not.” 

Scottie stood up and clapped his hands together. “Okay,” he said excitedly, “now that we’ve all had a chance to collect ourselves, I’d like to officially welcome everyone to The Shrieking Queen’s Catacombs, my third annual summer campaign. Welcome, everyone.” 

Grant started rubbing his chin skeptically. “The Shrieking Queen’s Catacombs… so that’s the name you went with, huh?” 

“You don’t like it?”  

“It’s not your best.”  

“Goddammit,” Scottie said under his breath, but he shook it off and carried on. “All right, whatever. We have a new player with us today! Welcome, Y/N, we’re all very excited to have you here.”  

“Speak for yourself,” Gareth muttered, and Scottie shot him a venomous glare that said, I will destroy you!

Then he turned back to you with a smile. “Since you’re still new to the game, I don’t want you to feel nervous or anything, okay? There’s no pressure here, seriously. We’re all a bunch of idiots, especially Gareth. So feel free to stop and ask questions whenever you need to. Take your time. Make mistakes. Make twenty mistakes. We don’t care. All that matters is that you have fun. All right?” 

Gareth leaned over and whispered to Grant, “Dude, why is he being so nice?” 

“Cheerleaders,” Grant replied. “Because of cheerleaders.”  

Gareth groaned and sat back. “Man, this summer’s gonna suck.” 

Scottie went on talking: “All right, before we officially begin, how about we go around the room and introduce our characters a little bit? Normally we would incorporate this into the beginning of the story, but I don’t wanna overwhelm you on your first day, so let’s just keep it casual and have a fun little meet and greet.”  

“What?” Eddie said. “Why are we doing a meet and greet? Just start the damn game.” 

“Eddie, I’m trying to ease her into it. I want her to feel comfortable.”  

Honestly, none of this was making you feel very comfortable, but after what happened earlier, you decided it was better to keep your mouth shut.

“Well, what about the rest of us?” Eddie said. “I don’t feel comfortable with this.”  

“Well, Eddie, you never feel comfortable. You’re uncomfortable in your own damn skin. Now shut up and stop undermining me!” Exhausted, Scottie turned away from him and said, “Jeff, how ‘bout you start? You’re the least problematic person here.”

“What am I doing?” Jeff asked. 

“Just introduce your character.” 

“Yeah, but you guys already know my character. What am I supposed to say?”

“Just say anything! My god, you guys make everything so damn difficult.” 

Jeff’s hands flew up defensively. “Okay, okay, jeez… I feel like I’m giving a book report. Umm, what should I say? I’m playing as Jaheem Evenstar. He’s a level six cleric, born into the church of Selûne—that’s the goddess of the moon, for the uneducated.” Jeff playfully elbowed you in the side as he said this. “He wears purple robes, silver-plated armor, and has a circle of seven silver stars tattooed on his forehead. The nature of his birth is surrounded by scandal, secrecy, and shame. His mother died on the birthing bed and her dying wish was that her son be raised in the temple. Being one of few males in a female-dominated religion, Jaheem spent most of his life feeling ostracized and is determined to prove his worth. At night, you’ll often him sitting under the moon and the stars. He hasn’t spent much time outside of the temple, so he’s a little naive in the ways of the world. Cities pose a special challenge for him because he’s easily tempted by vices.”

“Oh…” you said, grinning. “Looks like Jaheem needs to stay away from the brothels.” 

Everybody (except Eddie) laughed. Jeff’s ears flushed with embarrassment. “That’s not what I meant,” he said.  

“Oh, I think it is,” you replied, giggling. “Your character is a man born into a religion full of beautiful women? I see what you’re doing, Jeff.” 

By now, everyone except Eddie (Why wasn’t he laughing?) was in stitches. Jeff had both hands over his face as he wheezed. “Okay, I’m creating a new character now.” He pretended to crumple up his character sheet and throw it over his shoulder.  

Then Grant took his turn. “All right, I’m playing as General Gudrun Havenbrooke, former commander of The Last Legion. He’s a fighter, obviously, also level six. He’s an expert in two-weapon fighting and possesses a vast knowledge of swordsmanship and battle tactics. During his service in the military, he led countless victorious battles but remains haunted by his one crushing defeat. This is reflected in his wardrobe, as he still wears the same dented armor from that ill-fated battle, and his cloak is stained with the blood of his lost comrades. He keeps fighting because it’s the only way to appease his ghosts, and he drinks heavily after every battle because it’s the only way he can sleep.” 

A shiver ran down your spine. “Damn,” you said, awestruck, “you guys are hardcore.” 

That's when Eddie decided to interject like a referee on a basketball court. “Hey, you can’t do that,” he said. “You can’t make fun of other players’ characters.” 

Stunned (and a little irritated), you said, “I’m not making fun. I’m impressed,” but Eddie didn’t seem to believe you. His eyes remained guarded and untrusting. 

Was there no winning with this guy? 

Next, Scottie turned to Gareth. “All right, buddy, you’re up.” 

“Me?” Gareth blushed deeply, an uncharacteristically boyish gesture. “Umm, okay! My character is Brumnur Wildrock. He’s a dwarf and a master bladesmith. In fact, many of you are using his blades right now. As a bladesmith, he has a fondness for all weapons, but axes and hammers are his preferred tools. He fights to test the strength of his weapons, and he has yet to meet a worthy opponent. Brumnur is headstrong, battle-hungry, and easily provoked to violence.”  

“So basically you made yourself,” you said, snickering. 

Eddie shot you an annoyed look. 

What? you thought, secretly loving all the attention he was giving you. Come on, that was perfectly harmless…

Behind his screen, Scottie raised his eyebrows tauntingly. “So what level are you, Gareth?”   

“Level one,” Gareth answered, a little ashamed.  

“Why are you only level one, man?” 

Gareth sighed. “Because I had to make a new character.”  

“And why did you have to make a new character?” Scottie put his fist over his mouth in an attempt to control his laughter. Jeff and Grant weren’t so successful.   

“Because I died,” Gareth said, seeming oddly proud of this morbid feat. Then he started to laugh himself.   

“How’d you die?” you asked, enthralled. 

Gareth sliced his hand across his neck.

“Oh my god, you got decapitated?” 

“Yeah,” Gareth said, positively beaming with self-satisfaction. “It was so awesome. My body moved on its own for another turn and killed two more monsters.” 

(“He didn’t, really,” Scottie would later tell you. “We just said he did to make him feel better.”)

You sat back and smiled, amazed by everyone’s creativity. “Wow, what a motley crew. We have a bloodthirsty dwarf, a disgraced war general, and a lecherous priest. Yeah, this campaign’s gonna be fun.” 

Eddie lashed out angrily: “Oh, would you stop already?”  

“What?” you said, startled. You were glad for his attention, sure, but all this needless aggression was really starting to grate on you. Could he not recognize your effort? Was that too much to ask? I’m trying to be nice here, Munson, but you're making it really fricken difficult! 

And now he was doubling down. “You’re being facetious,” he said. 

“Facetious,” Gareth began suddenly, completely unprompted. “F-E-C-E-T-I-U-S, facetious.” 

“Not even close,” said Grant, and Gareth smashed down his fist in defeat.

Ignoring them, you glared directly at Eddie. “I’m not being facetious. I’m just having a little fun. You know what fun is, right? That’s what normal people do when they’re playing a game. They laugh. They joke around. They have fun. Maybe you should take that giant stick out of your ass and you'll have fun too, you self-righteous prick.”   

(Now that was mean. Yeah, you definitely took a few steps back with that comment)

(right off a cliff)  

God dammit, you thought, feeling utterly defeated. If you weren’t surrounded by so many people, you would have been crying right now. You didn’t know what you were doing wrong. You didn’t know why Eddie was attacking you so viciously every time you opened your mouth. 

Shit, maybe he just hated you. 

(Could you blame him?)

Scottie’s voice cut through the silence: “All right, Eddie, you’re up, man.” 

By now, Eddie had completely withdrawn into himself. He sat hunched over in his chair with his palm pressed against his mouth, looking more and more like he wanted to leave. “I don’t wanna go,” he said. 

Scottie breathed an aggravated sigh. “C’mon, dude, everyone has to go.”  

“Well, I don’t want to,” Eddie said, and you knew it was all your fault.    

Guilt turned in your stomach. Timidly, you raised your hand. “I’ll go,” you said. 

Anxious as you were, you figured it was the least you could do. 

You pulled out your character sheet. “Umm… okay, I’m playing as Elaria Quint. That’s not her real name, it’s just her most recent identity. Nobody knows Elaria’s real name. Honestly, I don’t even think she knows anymore.” You laughed a little as you said this. That wasn’t something you had originally written on your sheet, but it seemed to fit in a strange way. Clearing your throat, you continued: “Um, Elaria’s a thief and a con artist. She moves from city to city, from scheme to scheme, never really settling anywhere. Having spent her entire childhood in poverty, Elaria dreams of living a life of luxury, and she came really close once. Unfortunately, she was betrayed by her old partner and mentor, and he took every penny she ever stole, so now she knows better than to trust anyone. To be clear, Elaria’s in this solely for the money. She doesn’t care about anything else. She’ll use you until she doesn’t need you anymore, and if the moment should ever come, she’ll have no problem betraying each and every one of you. You’re all disposable to her.” 

“So basically you made yourself,” Eddie muttered spitefully. 

He thought you hadn’t heard him, but you did. 

Okay, you thought, wounded, I guess I deserved that. 

Beside you, Scottie was eagerly rubbing his hands together. “Holy shit, I love it! This campaign’s gonna be pure chaos, and I can’t wait to get started.” He made a motion toward Eddie. “Hurry up, Munson, introduce your character so we can start.” 

“I don’t want to,” Eddie said again, and that was Scottie’s last straw. 

He squeezed his hands into tight fists and yelled, “Oh my god, would you just go already! You know, the more you put this off the more time you waste, and you’re the one who was dying to get to the game, so… god, just fucking go.”

Scottie’s outburst made everyone flinch and go quiet. Eddie looked like he wanted to disappear. 

“Fine,” he said bitterly. He opened his binder, flipped to his character sheet, and started reading directly from the page, his voice flat and listless. He might as well have been reading from a textbook. “Uhh… my character is a level fourteen spellcaster named Castinus. He was born into a disgraced noble house that has since fallen into ruin. His father was once a well-respected wizard, but his quest for knowledge and power drove him to madness. One day, he mercilessly slaughtered everyone in the castle as well as the neighboring village. Only Castinus survived the attack. As he lay dying, he made a pact with a powerful demon. As a result, he was granted great power but lost his humanity.” Eddie shrugged and pushed his binder away.

You looked around the room, beside yourself with disappointment. “Wait, that’s it? That’s all you could come up with, Munson?”

Your comment was punctuated with a moment of surprised silence, as if an ancient taboo had just been broken. Everybody’s jaws dropped. Eddie’s eyes widened in baffled hurt.

Oh my god, stop talking, you thought. Stop talking right now. 

And yet you kept going. Like an idiot, you kept going.  

“So let me get this straight, Munson: your character is a spellcaster named Castinus. Castinus, the spellcaster.” You cringed out of sheer frustration. “God, you didn’t reach very far for that one, did you?”

Gareth dropped his pencil. 

“Oh shit,” said Grant. 

Meanwhile, Jeff was giving you a pleading look. “What are you doing?” he whispered. 

“I don’t know,” you said, sickened and ashamed of yourself. 

You put your head in your hands and tried to squeeze some sense into yourself, but it just wasn’t working. 

“I’m sorry, this isn’t coming out right. I swear, I’m not trying to be mean or anything; I’m just so… so confused. I refuse to believe this is your character, Eddie. I’m sorry, but I refuse to accept it. Come on, a spellcaster named Castinus? A son getting vengeance on his evil dad? It’s just so unrealized and uninspired. I mean, my god, no wonder you sound so bored when you’re talking about him! Do you even like your character, Eddie? Because it doesn’t sound like you do. In fact, you know what it sounds like to me? It sounds like you started creating a really cool character, but then you hit a wall, gave up, and decided it was good enough. Except it’s not good enough, Eddie. For anyone else, it would be good enough. For me, it would be good enough. But you… I just know you can do so much better than that!”

Finally, you fell silent, panting. Eddie’s eyes narrowed into a hateful glare. 

“You know I can do better than that? You don't even know me!"

You winced at those words. They pierced right through your heart. 

Well, I’m trying to, you wanted to say, but maybe it wasn’t worth it. 

This wasn’t why you came here. You didn’t want to make Eddie hate his favorite game.

Now he was ripping out his character sheet, crumpling it into a ball, and whipping it at the floor. “This is exactly why I didn’t want you here,” he said, and that’s when you realized this was all a huge mistake. 

“Okay,” you whispered. 

Quietly, you gathered your things, dumped them into your backpack, and went upstairs.

Scottie sighed heavily. “That wasn’t very gentlemanlike, Eddie.” 

“I know,” Eddie mumbled back, staring at your empty chair. 

How did you know he was struggling with his character?

You only made it as far as the front porch. 

Now you were sitting on top of the stairs, weighed down by guilt, drowning in grief, and fiddling with the rainbow bracelet Chrissy had made for you—the one she had probably spent days working on. What a lovely waste of time that was. 

Sorry, Chris, you thought ruefully, looks like all the luck in the world can’t save me from myself. 

A sad, surrendering sigh escaped your lips. You tried to take the bracelet off, but the strings were tied way too tight. It was as if Chrissy herself was struggling against you. You could practically see her beside you, wrestling against you, glaring at you with those bright blue eyes and urging in that sweet, sweet voice: You said you wouldn’t give up, remember? You pinky promised! Oh, curse Chrissy Cunningham and her annoying, unyielding optimism. Couldn’t she see the game was already over?

Desperate now, you put the bracelet between your teeth and started gnawing at the strands. You were prepared to chew off your own hand if you had to.  

Still, the bracelet wouldn’t budge. It was incredibly stubborn, just like its maker. 

You promised, Chrissy said. 

I lied! you yelled back. I can’t do this, okay? I tried and I failed and

That’s when you heard

“Uhhh…” 

a voice beside you. You turned toward it and saw Eddie standing in the open doorway with a look of bemused horror. You couldn’t imagine what he must have been thinking right now, seeing you sitting with your left arm locked in a tight vise grip, savagely chewing at the inside of your wrist like a coyote trying to escape a hunter’s snare. Why, he probably thought you were an absolute lunatic. 

(Was that better or worse than the Antichrist?)

Shame engulfed you. You spat the bracelet out of your mouth and lowered your wrist to your side. 

“You left your dice,” Eddie said, still a little wary of you. 

“Oh,” you said quietly. You hadn’t realized you’d forgotten it. 

Cautiously, Eddie stepped toward you and dropped the bag into your open palm.

“Thanks,” you said, and put it away.

You figured Eddie would head back inside after that, but he didn’t. Instead, he lingered pensively on the porch for a minute, his body hunched forward slightly, hands stuffed in the front pockets of his jeans. 

“Hey, I’m really sorry,” he began in a low voice, “for the way I’ve been acting today. I haven’t been very fair to you.” 

Eddie’s apology caught you entirely by surprise. You sat there speechless for a second, blinking at him. 

“I’m sorry for calling your character uninspired,” you said. “That was really mean, and I only kinda meant it… I mean, Castinus is a terrible name, I stand by that completely, but the rest of the character isn’t that bad.” 

“Right…” Eddie raised his eyebrow dubiously, unsure of what to make of your apology.

(if you could even call that an apology)

He sighed and shook his head. “Look, how ‘bout we just start over, okay? Clean slate.”

He leaned forward and extended his hand toward you. Blushing, you drew away from it, your hand instinctively rising to cover your face. 

He wants me to shake his hand? you thought, terrified and astonished. Eddie Munson, the boy who hated you, the boy who was always running away from you, was now standing in front of you and offering you his hand. The sight alone sent your mind into a frenzy. You could feel your heart hammering against your ribcage. What was going to happen when you…?

“Okay,” you said, and slipped your hand into his. As soon you did, your heart skipped a beat… but then it slowed unexpectedly, falling into this strong, steady rhythm that made you feel strangely, beautifully, at peace.  

Could he feel this too, you wondered? 

No, probably not. 

But when you lifted your eyes, you thought you saw a glimmer of something in Eddie’s stare. Maybe it was the same calm quiet you had experienced. Maybe it was just the sun catching briefly in his eyes. Whatever it was, it was gone before you could really see it. Then his hand disappeared and returned to the pocket of his jeans. 

“C’mon,” Eddie said. He went to the front door and held it open for you. “Let’s head back inside and start the game.” 

Nodding, you grabbed your bag and went with him, but before walking through the door, you stopped and said, “Dustin Henderson.” 

“Huh?”

“You wanted to know who loaned me all that stuff, right? It was Dustin Henderson. He loaned it to me.” You went inside.  

“Oh,” Eddie said as he followed you in. “I have no idea who that is.” 

SERIES MASTERPOST

FANFICTION MASTERLIST

#eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x fem!reader #jeff stranger things #gareth stranger things #hellfire club #chrissy cunningham #stranger things #stranger things 4 #fanfic #eddie munson x dwm!reader #dancing with myself #dwm #dwm short #dwm middle school fic #ambrossart

[morganbritton132]

Eddie, to his Tiktok audience: Sometimes I forget that Steve taught second grade for fifteen years and sometimes I’m acutely aware of it

Eddie flips the camera around to Steve and Ozzy with one of those Fisher Price basketball hoops for kids. Steve is explaining that the ball goes into the basket to Ozzy like he’s talking to a small child.

Steve: Okay, I’m going to toss you the ball and you put it in the basket. Okay? Ready, set, go

Ozzy: *catches ball easily and puts it in the basket*

Steve: Oh! Oh my god, Ed. Eddie did you film that? He did it!

#Ozzy is just like if you want to award me for a simple task than I’m fine with it #I roughly put the start of Steve’s teaching career in 93/94 so fifteen years in second grade the rest in middle school #steve harrington #eddie munson #eddie munson tiktok saga

[steddiealltheway]

Part Three to Meet Ugly (Ha, I named it... I think?). Part one. Part two. AO3 Link

Eddie sits on his kitchen counter staring at the fridge. Steve’s number blurs until Eddie blinks harshly, tears falling down his face. 

He scoffs, “I’m not going to cry about him.” He angrily wipes at his face, taking in deep breaths as more tears fall. He feels his bottom lip quivering and angrily hops off the counter, making his way to the phone. He glances back at the fridge and punches in the first two numbers and pauses. 

He can’t do this. It’s too soon. Besides, Steve doesn’t even know him; he can’t just call him during a breakdown. 

He thinks about his band members, specifically Gareth, but they had all voiced their harsh opinions on his relationship. None of them had met Brian, but that was reason enough to dislike him. If Eddie called any of them now, he would be met with an “I told you so,” which is exactly what he doesn’t need. 

He puts the phone back and stalks off to his room, collapsing in his bed. He turns to face where Steve was laying before and sees the handcuffs. Eddie will have to pick the lock on the other side to get them off his bed frame, but he can’t right now. 

He wants to call Steve desperately. The small period of time with him was more comforting than any point in his relationship with Brian in the past two years. 

Maybe it’s just a rebound type thing. He makes a connection with a guy that is attractive and kind and suddenly he’s calling it something more than it is. 

Eddie curls up on himself and tries to fight the spiraling episode he can feel himself diving head-first into. 

Two fucking years. 

Eddie thinks of all the shows he’s done that Brian never came to. The Thanksgivings he’s spent with his Uncle Wayne gushing about a guy who wouldn’t even show up. The key he gave Brian a year ago, expecting him to understand the grand gesture of moving in with him, but Brian had put off the move for an entire year. The holiday parties at Brian’s job where Eddie insisted, he would behave and say he was just Brian’s friend, but Brian would always argue that he didn’t want to take the risk.  

But he would promise that eventually – always eventually – he would be there. 

And Eddie believed him. That might be the worst part.  

Maybe the worst part was how oblivious he’s been this whole time. How long has he been cheating? And how many times has he used Eddie’s fucking bed? 

The thought makes him want to throw up and wash his sheets. Luckily, he washed them the day before, ironically enough because he wanted to have clean sheets after Brian came to see his show.  

But knowing that Steve was the stranger in his bed makes him feel more comfortable with putting it off until the next day.  

Eddie closes his eyes for a few moments then punches his pillow as soon as more questions about Brian flood his head. He opens his eyes and sees the handcuffs again. 

He reaches out and holds onto the end where Steve’s wrist used to be. He closes his eyes, imagining Steve could still be there, rambling on and making him forget his miseries.  

He’ll call tomorrow. 

-:-:-:-:-:- 

“Wakey wakey, baby.” 

Eddie groans hating how Brian always had the worst way of waking him up. 

Brian. 

Must’ve been a weird fucking dream. Eddie opens his eyes and spots the handcuffs on his headboard that he’s still somehow gripping onto. He sits up and wipes at his face, finding flakey tear residue embarrassingly down his face. 

Not a fucking dream.  

“Oh, baby, you don’t look too good, but I brought blueberry muffins,” Brian says holding up a bag.  

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Eddie asks, staying in his bed, hoping this is a nightmare. 

Brian shakes the bag as if to answer. Eddie stares at him. “Damn,” Brian laughs, “I thought you’d be able to move past yesterday’s incident but someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning.” 

“Get out.” 

Brian rolls his eyes. “Come on, let’s get some food in you while I explained what happened.” He wanders out towards the kitchen, and Eddie wishes more than anything that he had a bat near him. Instead, he stalks over to the closet and starts pulling out anything that Brian might own. 

“Baby, what are you doing? There are muffins in the kitchen,” Brian says as he comes back into Eddie’s room.  

Eddie starts throwing Brian’s items on the ground, moving on to his dresser and desk next. 

“Are you going to even let me explain?” Brian asks sounding clearly agitated. 

Eddie shakes his head in disbelief, ripping up a generic hallmark birthday card with the only personal thing written being “Love, Brian.” Eddie throws the scraps on the ground along with his other random items. “Explain what? How you’ve been using the key to my fucking apartment to trick random people into having sex with you.” 

“Oh, baby, is that what he told you?” 

Eddie turns and points a finger in Brian’s face. “Don’t fucking call me ‘baby.’” 

Brian pushes Eddie’s hand out of his face and explains, “Eds, he was lying to you. He approached me. Asked me if I could show him the ropes when it comes to hooking up with guys. And I took him back here because my roommate was home, and I showed him a few things. I never intended to sleep with him though, so it’s not even cheating.” 

Eddie’s heart drops to his stomach. “And how many guys did you so call ‘show them the ropes’?” 

“Only a few. Don’t worry, I never went far enough to need to get tested. Now come on, get your muffins. They’re your favorite.” 

Eddie searches Brian’s face, trying to find the person he thought he knew. 

“Fuck you,” Eddie says, “And get out of my fucking house.” 

Brian throws up his hands. “What’s fucking wrong with you, Eds?” 

“What’s wrong with me?” Eddie yells. He huffs out a humorless laugh. “Oh, I don’t know. I find out my boyfriend has been hooking up with people but doesn’t consider it cheating. Then I realize that he’s a fucking asshole and always has been. How have I never seen it?” Eddie stalks off to the kitchen, hands in his hair. “Now, I think it’s time you give me my fucking key and get the fuck out before I actually lose my shit,” Eddie warns him. 

“You don’t mean that,” Brian scoffs. 

Eddie holds out his hand not trusting himself to speak without yelling and straining his vocal cords.  

Brian finally starts tugging Eddie’s key off his keychain and drops in his hand. “Just for the record, I’m the best you’re ever gonna get sweetheart. Who the fuck is going to want you? You’re a nobody who thinks his awful band is going to make it somewhere. Don’t you know there’s a reason I never came to your performances or showed you off to my friends? It wasn’t because I was scared about how they would react to me being gay; it was because I didn’t want to be associated with a loser like you.” 

Eddie shakes his head, trying to ignore the pressure behind his eyes caused by elementary school type insults. He shoves the bag of muffins into Brian’s hand. “Take your fucking muffins. Blueberry were always your favorite. Never mine. While I’m at it...” Eddie trails off, going to the fridge and digging through for all the shit Brian stocked up there.  

Eddie lays random shit on his counter and slams the fridge door shut. He shoves it towards Brian but finds him staring off behind him. Eddie runs a hand over his face as he storms over to the kitchen cabinet where Brian’s coffee mug has been staying. He grabs it and turns around to hand it to Brian. 

But he isn’t where he was before. He’s by the fridge, staring at the number. 

“What’s this?” Brian asks. 

Eddie can’t answer. He can feel himself freeze. 

“He left you his number, didn’t he?” Brian questions then laughs. “You’re pathetic, you know? Let me do him a favor.”  

Brian reaches out and swipes his hand across the whiteboard, instantly erasing Steve’s number. 

Eddie’s heart drops and his blood runs cold. He raises the mug, and Brian’s eyes go wide before he bolts towards the front door. Eddie throws the mug, hearing it shatter as it makes contact with the door Brian just slammed shut. 

He runs over to the whiteboard and stares at the faint smear left. 

Eddie slowly sinks to the floor and buries his head in his hands, letting the tears flow. 

Part four

(Adding people who asked to be tagged. So sorry if I forgot anyone. Love you guys btw.

@gaysonthefloor @tinydragonhuman @micheledawn1975 @kerlypride @counting-dollars-counting-stars @yourebuckingkiddingme @ilovecupcakesandtea @cheyyyyyy @phantypurple @saramelaniemoon @xoxo--insanity @2btheanswertothequestion @connected-dots @vampireinthesun @yes-im-your-mom @redfreckledwolf @swoodoo @grtwdsmwhr @eddiethesexy @whomst-the-hell @lydi-cyan @teelagurl558 @omletlove @samcoxramblings @ineffablecolors @planetsoda @whimsicalwitchm @suikatto @mavernanche @cr0w-culture @steve-the-hairrington @zerokrox-blog @blue-little-silly-and-unsure @isabel-ffl-xoxo @staninggaycouples @lillemilly @thisisjaybaker @gobbledy-gluk-gluk @namelessssho @imnotsureiexist @sammararaven @funnymagicman-named-dandy @sketchy-scribs-n-doods @freddykicksasses @stardustonpages @funsizearsonist @unclewaynemunson @igotloki @mrbutchdyke @multifandomnerds-stuff )

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie fanfic #I swear there is a part four coming #Sometimes I write like I'm in middle school again #but i hope you enjoy

[allysartblog]

This is so funny

#eddie munson #memes #stranger things 4 #stranger things #you know his ass stank #eddie munson x reader #and #steddie #girlies #hate to break it to you #but your uwu quirked up white boy is stinky #he needs a bath asap #no hate tho #i love him to #but that hair looks like it hasnt been washed since middle school #atleast #argyle #looks like he knows what soap and shampoo are