eddie psl post.

[heatmetal]

boop boop banoop

Comments

[heatmetal]

[ it doesn't take sleep long to come once they're settled. Eddie's a cuddler, not that he's done it much. Curls into Billy and holds fast, breathing deep and even.

The leg isn't doing much in the way of mending. It stops bleeding, but the damage is... Extensive. Even bits of the bone have been gouged by hungry bats. It could require more feedings. It could simply be a lost cause. Rotten the way some things get even after death.

What is cetain, though, is that eddie is decently warm and breathing.

It's Jason that wakes him. The gag worked mostly out if his mouth, praying fervently for salvation. ]

[camarod]

[He must have dozed too, in the end. The warmth lulling him down, cushioned by his own arm. It takes him a minute to stir, though.

Jason’s just as sluggish, no matter how intensely he’s praying. It takes him a moment to see Eddie’s not lying still anymore; takes him less to hiss out a I knew you were queer, Munson, but Hargrove - and there’s still bite to it. Hatred.

Billy hears it, vaguely. It really does sound like Neil. ]

[heatmetal]

[ Eddie cocks his head. Feeling more like the man he was a week ago than he has since Chrissy Cunningham died in front of him. ]

Did you even know she was suffering. [ he shifts a little, able to sit up on his own despite the dead weight of his leg. ] Losing her mind, scared so shitless she was buying drugs from the town freak - and not saying a word to her golden boy boyfriend who punches holes in walls.

I might be a queer, Carver. But at least I'm not a monster.

[camarod]

[Monster, Billy hears, slightly choked. Incredulous. I'm not drinking goddamn blood like some kind of vampire!

And yeah - yeah, that's. That's probably what the are, huh. He hums softly, reaches and arm over Eddie's waist, but keeps his eyes closed. And - and him. He's not a monster? You see what he did to Steve Harrington's face?

Yeah, yeah, that too. Billy knows. Should have known - all those girls he - ] Fucking hell does he ever shut up, [he mutters, pressing his forehead to the small of Eddie's back, like he's done this before. ]

[heatmetal]

Wasn't a monster, then. Unfortunately your dramatics got me, Patrick, and probably many many others killed.

[ he smiles, all sharp fangs. ]

But until the life drains from your hateful little eyes, my body count is at zero. Can't speak for Hargrove, so you'd better do as he says and shut the fuck up.

[camarod]

Dramatic, [is muttered into Eddie's back. Billy's body count is - a lot, he guesses. Does it count, if he were being controlled? Yeah. Yeah, probably. If not for him, Heather Holloway would still be yelling at kids by the poolside. Her parents wouldn't be mush.

A lot of shit to think about, one day. Not today.

Jason sneers, chokes, and hisses out a fuck you and a you killed Patrick and then, weaker, you're both disgusting. He's not sure which of those make him stir at last, shifting up onto an elbow to look at Jason, face real blank, eyes dark. ] Carver, if you don't shut the fuck up I'm gonna take your head clean off your fucking shoulders.

[So calm, too. #growth. ]

[heatmetal]

I'm so sad you're gonna die here. [ Eddie sinks back down, closing his eyes. ] I'd set you up to take the fall for me in a heartbeat. Frame you for my own fucking murder and watch the town turn. You got motive for every murder...

[ not that it matters. ]

Could put my rotten leg in your fuckin' basement and wouldn't the media just love that.

[camarod]

[Hmmm. All that spite is, hmmm. Does a little something to his gut. His mouth curves to a grin, eyes on Jason and yeah, yeah that would be real funny. Golden boy like Carver, secret cultist. ]

Y'know, I think they'd believe it. Sweet all American boy prays to Satan to win big.

[ha. Jason splutters, but Billy's already moving, half straddling Eddie on his way up to regag Jason. His hand is tight around his throat, squeezes hard enough for him to go still and quiet, still breathing shallow. ] I think I like you mean, Munson.

[heatmetal]

[ it feels... Good. This vindictiveness. Like a sorely needed release.

His hands slide up to rest on billys hips, letting his gaze wander up that bare chest. ]

Is there another room we can put him in?

[camarod]

Yeah - yeah. Whole house to ourselves.

[He thinks: bathroom. The widows too small to escape. He lingers a little, relishes in the warmth of hands on his skin, on feeling wanted. He could kiss Eddie stupid with Jason right there, if he's honest, but he gets it. So reluctantly, he leans down to ghost a kiss against Eddie's mouth, murmurs soft: ] I'll be a sec, [before he's up and off, grunting as he drags Jason's heavy weight down across the wall, locking him up in bathroom.

He comes back rolling a shoulder, has some extra gauze for later. ]

[heatmetal]

[ god, he's gorgeous. Eddie has to just admire him for a moment...

And then remembers something. ]

Do you have some kinda music player? Any tapes?

[camarod]

I did, on the other side. I don't know what this place is but - this is my room, but none of this shit is mine.

[He pauses, shrugs. ] There's a boombox in the kitchen. The tapes are some middle aged mom shit. You wanna make out to some electro pop?

[heatmetal]

Fuck, that's right. This is the past. It's 1983 here.

[ uuugh which means he doesn't have most of his good shit. ]

Music. It keeps Vecna -- the thing, the wizard controlling all this shit -- it keeps him out.

[camarod]

['83. He'd be in Cali. Sun, sea. He tries not to dwell on that, tries instead to dwell a little on Eddie Munson, sits his ass back down on the bed and and nods. ]

Then I'll grab the boombox if he - he comes. He's distracted, though. The storms outside. He's angry, not paying attention.

[His watchful eye is cast toward El, he figures. ]

[heatmetal]

[ he swallows tightly. ]

Should we be getting the hell out of here while we have the chance?

[ not that he's sure where they could hide in Hawkins with the town hunting for him. ]

[camarod]

You think you could with that leg?

[It sounds smart. Sounds real tempting, too. Billy could eat, is the thing. Someone fresher, someone he's not saving for Eddie. ]

[heatmetal]

Probably not. But if the gates close we're not getting out of here.

[camarod]

[He pauses. Exhales. ]

Okay. [A little breathless, sure. Sure ] We have to finish him first. I can carry you.

[Out of here. Permanently. ] That okay?

[heatmetal]

[ His stomach churns a little. That twinge of conscience warning him against murder. ]

Yeah. That's fine.

[camarod]

Okay, [ and it's easier to lift Eddie - to test the mobility before he takes him to the bathroom. He won't make him watch, after he's done drinking. But he does leave him there, on the toilet seat, while he drags Jason outside and finishes him off. Leaves his body for the monsters to take care of, before he's back inside, grabbing a shirt and his jacket.

Then there's Eddie, who he picks up easily enough, like he weighs nothing. He supposes it's one of the perks of whatever he is now. Strong.

The hellscape is as it always was: red, then blue, always storming. Billy moves through it like he knows it a little too well. He probably does. ]

[heatmetal]

[ he's sure to drape his baby over billys shoulders before they go, unwilling to leave her behind after they've come so far together.

But being moved like this hurts. It's the mangled leg - what little tissue is still functioning is protesting the bone just dangling. Eddie closes his eyes and tucks his face against Billy's shoulder, humming low under his breath to distract himself. ]

[camarod]

[It's a lot of effort, and it does mean Eddie's baby may end up as a weapon, but. The monsters tend to stay away from Billy, now. Learned behaviour.

Eddie's trailer looks just the way he'll remember it, probably. They're gonna have to do something about the leg, though. He's just - just not sure what. Something to consider later, if it's still mangled flesh and bone.

For now he's hoisting Eddie through, calling a soft sorry when he lands in a painful heap. Billy follows next with the guitar, and then - he breathes again. Real air. ]

Shit, man. You got something here I can tie your leg to?

[heatmetal]

[ fuck they should've kept the mattress there. Eddie hisses like a cat, grinding his teeth until his body stops ringing with pain. ]

Uh... Probably a busted hockey stick in my room.

[camarod]

Fucking peg leg, [is muttered while he gets his ass up to look. Something sturdy, and - sure. A hockey stick'll do. He grabs some of Eddie's scattered clothes, tears through the shirts on his way back in. ]

This'll probably hurt like a bitch, [and crouches, aligns the stick to Eddie's calf and begins tying it tight. It's real weird up close: bone attached to foot and thing, tendons clinging lazily. he wonders if attaching someone else's meat to it might work. God. ]

I don't - I don't know how much you'll need to feed to fix this shit, man. One more? Ten?

[heatmetal]

[ he's grabbing some of that scrap to scream into, breathing hard. His head tilts back - there's a sick pleasure to it, judging by the way he moans when it's finally settled.

... Can he kill ten people to fix it? ]

If it doesn't work after the next one it's not fucking worth it, man. I can - I can make due.

[ he isn't sure he can hunt. Honestly. Not someone outside of Jason fucking Carver. ]

... Your sister and stepmom live next door, by the way.