So I did some of those Yume blind bags and shared pics here, but the other day went to Walmart looking for the Scoops Ahoy ice cream.
No ice cream, feeling disappointed, wandered over to electronics where I immediately saw this
I didn't even know this existed and I had just been moaning about missing having a tape deck.
Opened it up - It was missing the bandana (which was not Eddie's so ┐( ˘_˘)┌ ), the patches (bummer), the stickers (also bummer).
🎶🎸🎶
But seriously, the season 3 soundtrack on tape was included, which is perfect because I have the others on vinyl, and seriously how many of these did they put out? Online I see the surfer pizza version more and even that is just frigging bizarre.
So - clutching this box to my chest I walk past the other collectibles, I saw the TV set blind boxes that were basically where those blind bags came from. I'd seen them online and wanted one because A. Their pretty cool, and B. They turn into lil display stands
I got my boys already, don't really care what character is in the box, grab one at random and then check out.
📺📻💥
Home with my prizes I open em up
There are cards and stepped activities to opening the character. The first is a scratch off game. I scratch the first clue bubble and it's a little red electric guitar.
Literally I was 5 again, getting the prize I wanted out of a coin turn machine. Like my heart soared.
🦇💗🦇
And I know it's silly, and plastic, and capitalism. But sometimes you feel lucky and this was that moment.
The other clues revealed the hellfire logo demon, a d20, and Eddie's vest.
I'm squealing. My spouse looks over and mentions how adorable I look when I'm happy.
Next clue card is revealed with water, it's the hellfire logo.
And then I get to the art card. Now I don't know how these are randomized but I pull off the Hawkins Tigers sticker to reveal
Gorgeous, battle bat Steve
.swoon.
Finally, I get to my new little Eddie and his display. This fig comes with guitar and hellfire notebook
I will guard him with my life
13 notes
·
View notes
im still on my fuckshit but when i think of cc maria ( by extension also nosy maria but specifically noting the isolation aspect of cc );
can you imagine one day skimming the paper. its been a few weeks since all the commotion knowing your friends' had attempted to come find you but then were chased off. never actually heard or saw any of them, but you know they were around.
but you've been moved from the cells to a mattress upstairs. you're given more freedom, more wiggle room, you're allowed to do things - little hobby-type activities - you're given better foods, you're looked after by the older woman at the other house. the man who took you, who terrifies you still to some degree, slowly doesn't feel like such a stranger anymore, you're right to still be cautious around him but as the days, the weeks, pass by, there's simply a different air about him, and in the shack. lighter, in a sense.
you find yourself growing used to the new daily - the new routine. of waking to the sound of him getting ready for the day, of being left alone in there for hours sometimes, others trailing after him like a duckling, around the older womans' property, helping with an array of tasks. and you worry about upsetting her at first, unsure if doing so will earn a knife to the throat. you listen, you do as you're told, you find some kind of way to co-exist - all the while still, in the back of your mind, there's still a ray of hope,
that maybe, maybe, since the rest of them got away - that they're merely licking their wounds, that they'll get word out and even with all the silence since they had been on the property, there's that shred of hope that maybe? someone will waltz in, guns blazing so to speak, and you'll get out of this hell finally.
that is, until that day - that you're skimming through the paper, and you recognize yourself in a little column - and you realize you're staring at your own fucking obituary.
and in that moment everything seems solidified.
you're never getting away.
there's no point in it.
there's no one out there who are still trying to find you, get you back, bring you home, back to your mothers' arms, back to being an older sister, back to the circle of friends you loved so dearly.
you're dead.
not just to the world, but to those you loved - those who claimed to have loved you, too.
what else do you have at that point? where else do you go, even if you still tried to leave? who wouldn't look at you sideways for the blood that's already stained your hands? for the flesh caught between teeth?
who else is there, except the one murmuring encouragement and praise in your ear?
the only constant you've had in all these weeks? whose words rang true - clearly - that no one cared? that they abandoned you? left you there, didn't even care to make sure you were alive or not? only thought of themselves and got the fuck outta there without confirming if you were even still alive.
4 notes
·
View notes