logs | [open & closed starters] december catch-all

Edited 2022-12-06 01:57 (UTC)

let their souls rest

[ the hierarchy's spectacle is, well, just that. eddie's got his arms crossed as he leans against a light post and watches the arrows fly into the sky then hit the funeral rafts. ]

I think the Vikings did it that way. It's kind of badass. [ he says to whoever is near by, reaching up to rub the back of his neck until -- the screaming starts and the bodies in the rafts rise from their resting spots, howling into the air. eddie, scared soul that he is, is going to use that friendly soul nearby to jump behind. congratulations, new human shield. Sorry for what he's about to scream in your ear. ] Holy shit, holy-fucking-shit! Should they be doing that?

[Look, he's just as shocked as you are, and even if he looks a little otherworldly anyway, with laurels and embered feet, he still looks back at Eddie very wide eyed.]

I'm not sure, mate. I think so? Perhaps? No one else seems to be finding it odd.

[ okay, okay. cool. at least it's not him. eddie's really goddamn tired of seeing people be really blasè about this spooky stuff. he steps to the side, arms wrapped around his torso as he looks out at the spirits and tries not to look as freaked out. is it working? nope. ] Dude, what the fuck.

What even are they? Like ghosts, sure, but is this about to turn into an everyone on the docks run for our lives situation? [ he looks around and, okay, no one's running. maybe not. ]

avert your gaze, you peeping tom!

[ standing in front of the notice board, eddie tilts his head and lets out a low whistle as he taps one of the listings. he's not alone, he realizes and there's someone else looking through the listings too so eddie can't help but grin and strike up a conversation. ] What do you think? This nude modeling thing. Do you think the artist is looking for something tasteful or raunchy?

[ honestly, eddie's not one to pose himself but he's kind of curious who's looking at that ad and what sort of person advertises so publicly. back home, oh this would be a scandal. he kind of loves it. ] Think she'll throw in a meal while you pose?

Edited 2022-12-06 02:24 (UTC)

[ Curious about the person who is looking at the ad? Look no further, Eddie.. She's right here, in an outfit that is distinctly too modern and strappy for the current season. ]

You'd have to hold the pose while eating, otherwise it'll mess up their painting.

[ She's seen articles about what they do in the movies.. She's happily assuming the same logic. Might even sound convincing with how much confidence she sells it with. Lottie tilts her head down to look at him, eyes briefly glancing back to the listing. ]

Usually they'll let you know what they want, or they'll give you free range. Depends on the photographer — I guess, painter.

Unless they're painting you eating. [ eddie quickly counters, realizing that it's lottie at his side. he offers a grin before he really thinks through what he said. sitting for a few hours holding food you can't actually eat would be torture and it'd also probably fuck up the painting to eat it.

damn. she's right. ] Have you done this before?

[ seems like they've got a real expert here. maybe it's more common in thee future, though eddie's more picturing the portraits of the olde times. then again, no one would be nude for those. ]

[ He gets a smile, at that. Lottie is amused, but not amused enough to ruin this sort of mystic she's got going on. After all, there's nothing more that she loves than being able to take the lead on things (because when can she ever do that here? When it's all death and gloom and no magic hour photos?). ]

The future version of it, I guess. No one's ever painted me as a model physically there but I've got some cute fanart every now and then..

[ Yes, she is That Girl who checks her own tags and mentions on every platform. ]

I'm more used to my photos being blown up and used as giant posters.. Or like, magazines.

[ eddie tilts his head at that one because, sure, the eighties has shit like this but he can't quite picture lottie posing for playboy or something like that. ] You have fanart?

[ which earns that puppy like tilt of his head again. ] Wait what do you do back in your time?

[ is he talking to a celebrity from the future? ]

I'm a fashion blogger.

[ This was an inevitable, Lottie humble brags like she needs air. But the way Eddie asks about her profession makes her feel a little less lame saying it out loud (there's no way around the natural cringe she gets whenever she says "I blog" or "I'm an influencer" — having a non traditional career tends to do that to you). ]

I don't think those existed in the 80's but it's like, I share my life with my followers and blog about stuff. Go to places, do collabs, sell merch.

A fashion what? [ sorry, lottie, blogging isn't a thing yet. he's going to think you're a fashion journalist at this point. but he'd appreciate that it's not a traditional career once he understands because fuck the system, pave your own way.

she explains and eddie nods, still not getting what a blog is. ] That sounds like a lot of work, sharing your shit with everyone.

But you can make money like that? Sharing what you like to do? [ and color him intrigued, okay. ]

Blogger. [ This question is clearly starting to seem familiar to her, if the awkward tinge to her tone is anything to go by. ] Do blogs not exist back then?

[ Either way, she preens at him thinking it sounds like a lot of work, brightening up because of it. ] But yeah, it was. Is. You have to plan everything around content. I used to go to places specifically for the food or OOTD pics.

[ Is that a sane way to live?? Probably not. But was it great for her blog and audience?? Absolutely. As far as money, though -- ]

Oh, yeah, a good amount. Money for appearance fees, interviews, photoshoots, all kinda adds up.. Cut of profits from people clicking on your link for ad sponsorships or buying my merch. [ She taps at her lip for a moment or two, in thought. And this is a genuine question she asks: ] Was Nike alive while you were kicking?

Haven't heard of one. What is it? [ she really is speaking another language and eddie looks as lost as he feels, but he's getting used to that.

at least with lottie. then again, she's teaching him a lot about the future and eddie kind of wishes he'd lived to see it. sure he'd be pushing forty if he was around when she was alive, which would be a stretch cause eddie's not sure he'd have made it that far anyway, but it would all be cool to see.

he tilts his head. ] What about doing things you enjoy? Any room for that in the blogger world?

Nike like the shoes? [ or like a person. there's a god with that name that he's read about. ] Kids at my school had Nike's, I had a pair too I thrifted.

[ he stuffs his hands in his pockets, chuckles. ] They were expensive as shit.

[ Eddie asks many good things about her career. All of them that are quickly eclipsed by the joy she feels when he says, yes, he sure does recognize that brand. Finally.. ]

I did a special drop with them back in 2014. There's a very cool select group of people with Lottie Person brand Nike wear, roaming out there in the big bad world.

[ Imagine that.. Boxers, leggings, bras, all kinds of athleisure wear with her name on it. Not that she is especially specific with what her collection had, but she hopes the brand drop does that for her, instead. ]

They let me do whatever for the photoshoot and designs so it was a great experience. [ She puts a hand on her hip, ] And I happen to enjoy being photographed, so, it works out.

[ maybe if he were more into nike or something, he'd be over the moon and impressed but the claim still earns a smile from him. ] You're really making it for yourself out there, huh.

[ it's fucking cool that someone can do that with a job the adults in his town would balk at. then again, eddie's an adult who feels kind of like he'll never grow up. he's peter pan, shepherding lost sheep. well, he was before he kicked it.

something about the way lottie ends that earns a laugh. ] So you're a pro, then. Got any tips for someone who hasn't really been photographed at all?

[ His laugh makes her laugh, half because it's infectious and half because it's been a long time since she's been asked for tips on the trade. Lottie, of course, has plenty, but starts with the easiest. ]

Know your angles.

[ She nods wisely. ]

Stare at yourself in the mirror and get comfortable. If you don't know what you look like doing a face, you're never gonna know if it comes out looking good on camera. You might end up just looking goofy as hell..

What happens if you don't have any angles? [ eddie's not exactly attractive in hawkins, mostly because it's a small conservative town and he's a dude with long hair who listens to metal.

so he's not so sure about all this.

he does do a little spin though, holds his arms out. ] I think I'm doomed to goofy no matter what. It's kinda my brand that and pretty metal.

[ the last time eddie was missing, there were both a formal police search and a jock lead mob after him. well, not a mob. four teenagers lead by a maniacal bible thumper and a whole town who'd turned on him. not that they didn't have good reason.

when eddie stumbles back into the empty apartment he shares with steve harrington, he's not aware that this time there was also a jock-lead search. except that this time it involved less metaphorical pitchforks. maybe hawkins has left eddie jaded, but even though he's not sure how long he'd been in the shadowlands he's also sure that no one's too worried. sure wayne worried when he disappeared for a few days but that was his uncle.

and, unfortunately, the paranoia and panic eddie's been feeling since he left the apartment - he really doesn't remember why he left it - has mostly felt like his own. he'd been fighting for his survival out there!!!

the first thing eddie does is stumbles into the shower, gets the grime and gunk off of himself. afterward he changes into a pair of sweats and thread-bare black sabbath t-shirt he'd grabbed from his home in the shadowlands once he'd found it. then, well, he's tired. truth be told, eddie didn't sleep much out in the wastle land as he hid from creepy crawlies, tried not to get eaten or sold into slavery, or worse! turned into a coin.

he's pretty sure he and steve picked out bedrooms but eddie's too tired to remember as he finds the nearest one, throws himself on top of the covers and lets himself drift away. he should find his phone and let steve know that he's alive, yeah, but a quick nap won't stop him from doing that. it won't. it'll be a quick one, he tells himself before he's drifting off and losing track of time with his arms wrapped around a pillow he's pressing his face into firmly enough that it may look like he's suffocating himself. ]

Edited 2022-12-06 02:26 (UTC)

[ It isn't as though their soulmate bond suddenly grants them with a precise GPS location of the other; something like that could get messy and confusing especially once someone's taken on more than one soulmate to fend off the shadows that haunt this place.

Steve's only got the one still, and he sure as hell doesn't have any internal Find My Soulmate abilities, but what he does have is a feeling. Call it regular baseline human intuition, or a former sports jock who's learned to feel his surroundings out in a different way in order to avoid a ball to the head or a misplaced kick to a place that would send him to the bench for a play. Whatever it is, that niggling hunch of a feeling tells him that he should get home. So he does.

It's easy enough to let the feeling pass though, and by the time he's reached the door he almost wonders whether he should have stopped by the Notice Board for any upcoming work that might suit his limited ability set first. Loathe as he is to admit it, he kinda needs the money. Yeah. Even in Hell, you've apparently got to make a living or wind up starving. It's totally unfair.

Anywho, the house is dark, as expected, and when he sets his bag of food items down, it's to pause because something really does, undoubtedly, feel different. It's something he can't put his finger on, sure, but there's a part of him that feels less anxious, less panicked, almost ... restful in this moment. Maybe it's being back in a safe space or whatever, but the rest of the evening goes by without a hitch, leaves Steve getting ready for bed thinking his Shadow had probably started playing tricks on him — again instead. (While his roommate unknowingly remains asleep on the floor right above him, and Steve remains blissfully unaware.

Right until he's not.)

What happens next can only be described as Very Sudden when Steve's about to hit all the lights and crawl into bed. It starts with an undignified yelp and the scrambling for a weapon — an old chair leg he'd picked up during his time in the gallows, not yet equipped with sharp rusted nails but we'll get there — before Steve moves to nearest light switch and flicks it on, the lamp glowing bright enough to cast its illumination on a body currently face-down into the comforters like it's some kind of goddamned Godfather-inspired death threat. ]

Jesus Christ! [ he shouts, this time using his words, and instead of bashing the poor guy with his chair leg, he stretches forward to grab a pillow and throws it at Eddie — hard.

Because it is Eddie. Steve will recognize that messy mop of hair and ripped denim anywhere, even when his heart feels like it's about to fly right out of his chest. ]

Munson! [ JesusChristJesusChristJesusChrist. ] What the hell, is that really you?

[ eddie's so goddamn tired and he doesn't really hear any of that movement downstairs; he feels calm, at peace for the first time and while there's an initial spike of something that nearly pulls him from sleep that fades away.

he feels safe for the first time in way too long.

and then one 'jesus christ!' and that's all over. eddie's not sure what's happening, exactly, but he's hit hard by something (is that soft and lumpy?) before he's bolting up and scrambling, somehow tangled in a comforter he'd ben perfectly still under, so he's got his back against the wall. his heart is jumping in his chest, threatening to explode or project itself up through his windpipe. ] What the fuck, Harrington!

[ he manages, heart skipping a few beats as he clutches his chest. ] Yes -- dammit -- IT'S ME!

[ he holds both of his hands up, palms facing steve because what the fuck is that a chair leg there, steve-o? ]

let's hold hands, o' wary traveler

[ odd jobs are kind of eddie's cup of tea. mostly because being the town black sheep, local metalhead and alleged satan worshipper makes finding work a shitty endeavor. not that eddie's exactly for the track record for paying attention to one thing long enough to hold a job; fuck, he couldn't graduate on time after all.

the whole local drug dealer thing doesn't help so eddie's familiar with odd jobs. it's trickier when someone needs other people to get the whole job done though and when you need to hold someone's hand for the whole endeavor. eddie tries to think about this one like a quest but, weirdly, people take him seriously when he puts it in dnd terms so he's not sure what to do about that. he's used to it being off putting when he jumps on a table and makes a demand of the cafeteria.

here, well, he's standing on the edge of a fountain in mirth with his hands cupped to his mouth and sure he'll get some hits as he screams out. ] Wary traveler! If you're cold, have I got a job for you that will help you heat up and you don't even have to take your pants off!

[ nailed it, edward. ]

Edited 2022-12-07 04:14 (UTC)

( wary traveler? is this guy from somewhere ridiculous?

of course he hears him, but the thing is, it's hard not to. even over the sound of the fountain, and a little bit of chatter from others gathered to join together for odd jobs and missions, the guy's voice rings loud and clear, almost to the point that it warrants giving him a headache. his own idiot friend he can tolerate, but only because he's got an uncomfortable heart of gold--this idiot, or whoever this guy is, might be a little out of his comfort zone. for a second he considers ignoring him, as he studies the notice board listings.

except this guy will not shut up. you don't even have to take your pants off! he shouts, and a couple of girls near to him giggle, casting long-lashed gazes back at the guy, and with a pained sigh, megumi decides that he'll just have to take him up on his offer just to at least offer the fountain and the surrounding area a little bit of well-earned peace.

pointedly, he makes his way to where the stranger is perched, staring up at him with narrowed eyes; one of his shoes nudges at the edge of the fountain, almost as if he's going to jump up there himself. wouldn't be the first time that he used his fists to solve a problem, but he tries to save that for dire circumstances. ) Hey.

( another gesture, with his hand, waving him down. ) Listen. I'll do the job with you. Just stop yelling.

[ truth be told, eddie's surprised it works without someone throwing something at him. there's plenty of snow so it'd almost be reminiscent of lunch time at hawkins high, getting pelted with something like a cafeteria slushie.

instead he's gotta a willing participant, an audience of sorts except that eddie's not actually performing anything or about to continue now that it's hook, line, and sinker or whatever that fishing metaphor is. ] Well, well, well. A taker!

[ he grins, jumping down from his perch and stuffing his hands into his pockets because it's freezing outside. ] The yelling worked, didn't it?

( there's a breath of a sigh, agitated, that swims in the air in front of them--because of the cold, it's a puff of smoke, like a dragon that's trying hard to hold back its agitation. at least the guy's hopped down off the edge of the fountain, and at least he knows how to use an inside voice: immediately, seeing that he's really likely more of a goof than anything else, megumi's shoulders loosen.

mimicking the movement, his own hands, frigid, push down into the pockets of his sweater. ) Only in the way that I wanted you to stop doing it.

( there may be a thread of humor in his voice, but it's quiet and wry. carefully, he eyes the stranger--a bit of relief in thinking that, just maybe, he isn't all that much older than he is. )

...What's the job? I didn't get to read all the listings because someone screaming over here distracted me.

[ someone screaming? him, obviously, but eddie makes a face that reads exaggerated surprise as he sits down on the edge of the fountain and spreads his long legs out in front of him.

he then pulls a stone out of his pocket, palm up to show the younger looking man what he's holding. ] Someone's paying good money for people to warm up these stones. 10 coins per person per stone, I hear.

Warm up enough and you could be eating like a king tonight, man! [ of course, there's a catch but eddie's not there yet. ]

[ even back home, eddie's never quite ready for winter. he's always lived in places with snow, sure, but somehow it always surprises him when the leaves finish their kamikaze jumps from the branches and the first snow hits the ground.

keeping track of the change was the last thing on his mind most of the time, until the snow thawed and he had to figure out how much work he had to put into the upcoming semester and if it would even be possible to graduate. at least that had been the song and dance of the last three years, until chrissy and the upside down.

this time he's not prepared because this place has no rhyme or reason. at least as far as he can tell. he makes his way back to the shadowlands to check if any of his winter clothes, like the jacket he finally got last year, have made it into his closet and nope. no luck.

so eddie's rocking his leather jacket and the vest he died in (how grim) to keep warm, manages to get a scarf thanks to that five finger discount. it doesn't do much, he's damn cold whenever he's outside but at least he's sticking to the whole 80s metalhead aesthetic as he's shivering his ass off. some days, when it's not as cold, eddie busks to make a few extra coins. today there aren't really many people out and eddie's fingers are blue by the time he sets his guitar down.

sitting at the edge of a fountain in the square where can normally draw a more captivated audience, he looks at the tips of his fingers and frowns at how red they are. after a moment, he tries to bend his right hand and hisses. ] Yeah, that's not good...

[ he stuffs both hands in his pockets, pushes himself up to stand and looks around the square. fire would help so he tries his luck with the nearest passerby, someone he's pretty sure he recognizes coming his way. ] Hey, doc! Got a match or a lighter?

Mr. Munson, ( he greets the younger man, warmly dressed for the winter conditions by comparison- and already his eyebrows knit as he takes in eddie's jeans and minimal layers, the ruddy look of his wind blown face. )

Matches? ( not the weirdest thing he's ever been asked, and anyway, ) Y'know, I think so...

( he nods at the guitar leaning against the fountain as he pats down his pockets, coming across the small box in his inner pocket. ) I'd have thought it'd be too cold to play.

( think fast, eddie, 'cause he's gonna toss the little box to him. )

Eddie. [ the young man shudders, nose crinkling like he's been called something that sounds too strange. it is, actually, because eddie's only ever called 'mr. munson' by educators who are in the mood to talk down to him. ] Mr. Munson's my uncle.

Sweet. I figured it might be a long shot. [ but there's a grin on eddie's face. ] No rest for the wicked, doc. Or those trying to earn a quick coin.

[ don't look too closely in his little jar, there's not really anything in there today. eddie's normally not that coordinated so it's no surprise that with such cold, stiff fingers he ends up fumbling with the matches and playing a game of them bouncing from hand to hand until he's squatting in front of the fountain with them cupped between his hands. ] Thanks, man.

[ and then he proceeds to do what might some find horrifying and stupid, which is lighting a match in one hand and holding it with trembling fingers while he holds the fingers of his other hand near the flame in a quick attempt to warm those babies up. ]

( Bones reacts as one slapped across the face, as quick as he flinches, lunging forward so he could (attempt to) snag Eddie by arm, to pull his fingers away from the flame. )

Are you insane? ( That's completely rhetorical; he looks shocked and aggrieved. )

Have you been out here this whole time without gloves? Dammit man, you're frost bitten; that calls for medical attention, not matches. Can you even feel your feet?

( he's just gonna do his best to hustle Eddie up and moving toward the direction of Sakura's clinic, guitar in tow, grumbling all the while. )

According to some? [ eddie squawks, pulled off-balance by that tug on his arm as bones lunges forward. some might call eddie crazy but this, at least in his mind, is resourcefulness.

he's about to explain, even though he's pretty sure that it won't really get him anywhere, but his mind kind of stops on 'dammit man' and his eyes light up with delight. this mccoy isn't deforest kelley, sure, but he's definitely mccoy and the star trek nerd in eddie's vibrating at little.

good job, doc, he feels a bit warmer even before he's hustled along. he feels a little awkward about it, rubs the back of his neck. normally getting scolded is grating as fuck, has eddie bristling but he's kind of too cold to bristle. ] Um, I could probably wiggle my toes just fine.

And medical attention's pricey! [ damn capitalism, man. ]

[open & closed starters] december catch-all

OPEN STARTERS

the harbours

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radiance;

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[closed] for steve

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[closed] for megumi

so sorry for the wait on this!! ♥

no worries at all ♥

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[closed] for mccoy

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