Um Actually, Its Called Art.

The Time Before - The Early Days

masterlist here

1,962 words

an: I'm so glad people are enjoying this series. It's crazy to me that I'm garnering this much support in so little time. I really appreciate you guys!

If you have any requests for the next part of this series, please let me know!

warnings: fluff, angst, mentions of abuse, Eddie's dad being an asshole

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Eddie had been with Wayne for two weeks so far and had not said more than two syllables at once to the man. Wayne thought him shy in the beginning, but this passed even shy.

After a trip to Hawkins' local Mattress Emporium, they returned to the trailer with a twin-sized bed, mattress, blankets, sheets, and a few extra pillows. Eddie hadn't replied when Wayne asked him which sheets he wanted, just shrugged his shoulders.

During his time in the Munson trailer, Eddie had tried to make himself as small as possible. He wouldn't answer any of Wayne's questions on what he wanted, just shrug his shoulders so Wayne would have to make a decision.

The boy was so quiet he spooked Wayne. He wouldn't even hit the creaky floorboards. It was like he wasn't walking, just floating. Wayne couldn't believe that Al, his bull of a brother, could have raised a child such as this one. But then again, he strongly doubted that Al had much to do with raising the boy.

Once the room was finished and Wayne had set up the bed for him, the boy rarely if ever appeared out of his bedroom. He only appeared to be fed or to use the bathroom. Wayne felt as if he was still living alone, with the addition of another cat-like being who didn't seem to like him.

At first, it was like reopening the wound that losing Lisa had made in his heart. Many nights were spent thinking of ways he could make the boy like him, make him more talkative. But Wayne realized that the most he could do was to leave the child alone. After spending ten years with Al, anyone would go practically mute.

~~~

The first night that Wayne seemed to make any sort of breakthrough with Eddie was after dinner. The boy had been living in the trailer for about three weeks at this point, and dinner had been an almost silent affair, per usual. The only sounds that were made were either from Flopsy begging for food or Wayne replying to her, trying to get her off the kitchen chair next to him. Eddie ate his spaghetti and meatballs in silence, taking turns staring at the cat or down at his lap, never at Wayne.

But after dinner, Wayne was on the couch, nursing a beer and watching Mama's Family. This had become his new tradition, every night he would prop himself up in the living room, most nights falling asleep there. Eddie had retreated to his room, per his regular evening routine, and Wayne expected to watch TV for a few hours alone and then go to bed himself. But he only got through the theme song and opening credits before he heard a door creak open down the hall. Eddie and his mop of curls bounced their way around the corner and into the living room.

He silently sat down on the couch next to Wayne. He looked up, shocked now that his nephew, the ghost of a boy, was finally sitting next to him by choice. "Hey, kiddo," Wayne said, ruffling his hair gently. He didn't flinch, didn't move. Wayne had to hide his surprise by taking another swig of his beer, averting his eyes to the television.

All was calm in the Munson trailer, quiet for the night.

~~~

Eddie spent five weeks with Wayne before his father came looking for him. He showed up at the trailer while Wayne and Eddie were playing a round of cards at the kitchen table, but as soon as Wayne pulled open the door and revealed his brother, Eddie scampered back into his bedroom silently. "Wayne. Long time no see, brother," Al said, pushing past him into the small trailer. "Don't 'brother' me, Al," Wayne said through gritted teeth. Over the past few weeks that were spent with Eddie, he learned a thing or two about what his brother liked to do with his half-smoked cigarettes and rodeo belt. Al looked back at him, a mocking smile plastered over his expression. "What's got your panties in a twist, huh?" he asked. "What do you want, Al? Money? Is that it?" Wayne said, scoffing. "Jeez, where'd your manners go? Aren't you gonna invite me in? Give me a tour or a cup of coffee? I love what you did with the place," he replied, looking around him. The false admiration was dripping from his voice. "Al, when have you ever been welcome in my house? What do you want?" he said, putting a hand on his hip. "I think we both know the answer to that question, Wayne," Al finally said, dropping the smile from his face. Wayne tried his hardest to not let his eyes wander to Eddie's door.

"Why do you want to take him? You know you don't care about him, Vivi told me. She told me everything, Al. You act like he's a burden for you. He's happier here," Wayne said. Al took on a menacing stance. "You better quit sticking your nose in places you don't belong. It got you in trouble once, don't think it won't again. Besides, last time I checked, that boy is my son. Not yours," he gritted, making sure to stand a few steps closer to his brother than was comfortable. Wayne sighed. As much as he hated his brother, he was right. Eddie was not his son. Even just thinking that felt like stabbing a hole clean through his chest. He had to give the boy back, as much as his mind yelled at him that it was a horrible idea. Al wasn't backing down. "Fine. Let me go get him," Wayne decided, walking down the hall to Eddie's room. He knocked on the door. "It's just me, kid. Promise," Wayne offered, and soon the door was opened just enough for him to slip through.

Eddie stared up at his uncle with glassy eyes. "I'm sorry, kid. You're dad's gonna take you home tonight, okay?" Wayne said. He quit looking into the boy's eyes because the sight of it was bound to make him tear up. "But this is home," the small child spoke. Wayne sighed. "I know. And I promise, you're gonna be home soon, okay? Give me a little while to sort it all out, and then I'll bring you home, okay?" He promised. "Why don't you go pack up your stuff."

With that, Eddie packed his clothes and toothbrush into his small backpack. Wayne stood in the corner, watching the child solemnly. Once Eddie had finished, he spent one last ditch effort. "Please, don't let him take me," he pleaded quietly. Those six simple words almost broke Wayne entirely. "Kid, I've gotta. But I swear on my life that you'll be here soon, okay? Real soon. Promise," he said, squatting down to the boy's height. He was utterly surprised when the boy wrapped his arms around Wayne's neck, hugging him for the first time. Wayne hadn't been hugged by a child this small since Lisa was with him. He spent a few moments in shock, before wrapping his arms around the boy and enjoying the embrace.

Eventually, the pair let go and Wayne walked Eddie down the hallway. He watched a shift happen in the boy; it seemed like all the joy and talkativeness had disappeared from his body once he had walked within 5 feet of his father. At the same moment, Al started on his berade of the child, immediately pointing out what was wrong with him. "Boy, who let you keep your hair this long? Your mama? I ain't gonna be seen with no hippy of a son. Stand up straight, too," he complained as they walked out of the trailer door and into the night. Eddie quietly obeyed his every direction. Wayne was silently thanking his stars that the boy was as compliant as he was. It would be easier for him that way. Al had always gotten along better with people he could boss around.

Wayne finally understood why the boy was so quiet; he could barely get a word in edgewise with how much Al reprimanded him.

Watching his nephew walk out the door without even having a chance to say goodbye felt like a kick in the stomach. He was suddenly winded and tired and decided to sit down on the couch, flipping on the TV. Before he got the chance to change the channel, he caught the end of Mama's Family.

"That's what family is all about. Doing things that make you miserable," the laugh track cued.

Just that simple phrase, just two sentences, was the last nail in the coffin for Wayne. He felt his waterline brimming with tears, and quickly changed the channel, wiping his eyes.

When he couldn't move on from the thought of his nephew, all alone with his brother, he got up and walked down the hallway into Eddie's room. He sat down on the bedspread, which was spaceman-and-alien-themed after Eddie couldn't make a decision at the store.

~~~

Six months later, Wayne was woken up at three o'clock by the telephone ringing. He answered and was met with the voice of the police. "Mr. Munson?" the voice asked. "Yes, that's me," he replied, trying to rid his voice of sleep. "We have your brother, Alfred, in custody. You're the closest living relative of his son. Would you be able to come and get him?"

Wayne didn't waste a second. He said yes without hesitation.

Within five minutes, he had tugged on a pair of work jeans and was in his truck, reversing out of the trailer park. It took him 15 more minutes to pull into his brother's driveway, the house illuminated by the flashes of red and blue emitted by the police cars. Wayne pulled himself out of the truck and jogged over to the police officer. "Hello? I'm Mr. Munson, I've come to pick up Alfred's son," Wayne explained. The officer shook his hand. "Jim Hopper. Chief of Hawkins Police. We've got the kid sitting in one of the squad cars. He's a little freaked out right now. I mean, we all are. In all my years working here, never have I worked a case with as much gore as this one," he explained. Wayne must've had a look of confusion on his face because Chief Hopper elaborated. "You are aware that Mrs. Vivianne Munson was considered a missing person for a few months. We found traces of her blood and flesh in the house and a bag of her body parts buried in a field close by. I mean, his fingerprints were all over everything." The moment after he explained, Wayne was sorry that he ever let his brother take that boy away.

He gathered himself as Hopper walked him over to his nephew. The boy was sitting in a squad car, the door open, his feet hanging outside. He looked wildly different than the last time Wayne had seen him. His father had shorn his lovely curls down to his scalp, and he sported dark rings underneath his eyes. He stared at the ground, his hands clenched into fists. "Eddie?" Wayne called, shoving his hands into his pockets. The boy didn't make eye contact with him, or anyone else for that matter. He just got up from the car, walked past Wayne, and got into the passenger seat of his truck. Hopper and Wayne shared a look, until Wayne shrugged and walked back to his truck.

"He took her," Eddie muttered quietly. "What was that, kid?" Wayne asked, his eyes focused on the road. They had been driving for some odd time by now, and the truck had been silent thus far. "He took her. From me," Eddie repeated, louder this time. Wayne didn't know what to say. He gripped the steering wheel a little tighter and focused. "Yes, he did, son. He did. He's gonna pay for it, too, okay?" Wayne explained. The boy finally looked up at him. "It won't bring her back, will it?" he asked. The man looked over at him for a sheer minute and saw his eyes gloss over with tears. Angry tears. Hot, burning drops that trickled in steady streams down the boy's cheeks.

He cried quietly, almost silent, until they pulled up at the trailer and Wayne patted his back. He was sobbing at that point, cries racking through his entire frame in the passenger seat. He held his face in his hands, letting the tears fall into his palms.

"Listen. My Pop wasn't good to us either, you know? But guess what; I made it through. I know you can too. Hell, if I can, you most definitely can, kid. You got more spunk and courage in your little pinky than I've got in my whole body, hmm?" Wayne explained once the boy had stopped crying. "You can make it through, Eddie, I know you can. You're better than your past. You're better than this." This would be a phrase that Eddie would hear from his uncle many times in the coming years.

Eddie, only eleven years old, looked up at Wayne with huge, glossy eyes and a twinkle he had only ever seen in Lisa, and that was when he knew. He knew it would be the last time he ever let that boy go.

Mr. Linden's Library

short story i wrote for an english class that i was told was not good. anyways, figured it might reach the right people on here. enjoy!

word count: 801

~~~

It was dreadfully cold at Three o’clock on the morning of January Third when Mr. Linden woke, hearing a loud crash. Drenched in sweat, he sat up in bed and grasped the comforter next to him but, alas, clutched only onto air. “Clara!” he called. He got out of bed and quickly dressed in his bed jacket. Before he left his chambers, he took his lantern, making off with haste into the hallway and down the two flights of stairs that led to the basement.

“Clara!” He called into the darkness of the floor below. “Clara?” But no reply was made. He slowly illuminated it with his lantern, casting a soft glow about the room. He produced a set of keys from his pocket and made his way over to a small door. In his haste, it took him many failed attempts to unlock and open the door before he let himself in.

“Clara!” He called once more into darkness. He finally opened the door, pushing the lantern through. The light produced from it danced over the many bookshelves that covered the room’s walls, some books with shiny title fonts reflecting the dim glow.

This room, which he referred to as his study, was filled with shelves upon shelves of books, each stocked full and on the verge of overflowing. Every wall was hidden by a massive, looming bookcase except for the north wall, which housed his carved oak desk. Placed meticulously behind the desk was a brown leather swiveling chair that was always perfectly spotless and polished. In the far corner of the room lived an ugly green cloth armchair, which had perfected the art of both becoming an eyesore and collecting dust. He never used it; he could never even remember the last time he had sat in it. He only sat at his desk, often in a very official manner, looking over papers, contracts, and the like. He did not have time to read his books, nor did he want to.

Now, as he rushed into the room, he squinted, searching for any sign of human life. He walked along every wall, scanning the bookshelves for anything that looked amiss, until he reached the southern wall. He checked the shelf and noticed that one of his books was missing. To his horror, only a space remained where the book had once been placed. He had not taken the book out yesterday, and had he; it would have been returned to its rightful place on the shelf. He had learned too well what would happen when you left a book out all night.

He was terrified. Now frantic in his alarm, he turned round and round in the center of the room, calling out desperately, “Clara! Clara!” as his eyes grew large with fear.

He finally gathered himself enough to stumble to a doorway in between two bookcases on the east wall. Fumbling for the doorknob, he realized with great trepidation that it had already been opened. “Clara!” He wailed. He yanked the door open, pulling himself through it before he could bear to look around.

Behind this door was the other half of his study, which always remained locked. Inside was a wooden worktable pushed against one wall covered in beakers, baubles, and other scientific ornaments. Two large bookcases flanked either end of the table, and a bench in front. Now, however, the room was all but ripped to shreds. The bookcases had been smashed; their contents spilled over the floor. The worktable was flipped onto its side, all the embellishments broken on the floor, and strange liquids drained out of them.

The only thing undisturbed in the middle of the room was the bench, now pushed away from the table. Across the bench lay a young woman, seeming to sleep in a vision of picturesque womanhood, with a book settled upon her lap.

Upon seeing her, Mr. Linden walked over to the bench and sank to his knees, grasping the young woman’s hand. “Clara! Clara. I knew this was what would become of my horrible habit, but I have prayed that it would be me that they would take. Not you. Never you. Oh, Clara, what have I done?” He howled as sobs racked his figure.

After a moment, he removed the book from her lap, only to reveal a mass of spiders dripping from the book’s pages. Without a moment of hesitation, he placed the book upon his chest, laid down on the floor, the woman’s hand still held within his own, and declared, “If they demand one of us, I will give them both.”

Within the hour, he stopped breathing, the venom of the spiders plaguing his bloodstream, with the hope of being reunited with his sweet Clara once more, if not on this earth.

'you still listen to music from 10 years ago 🤨?' bitch if prehistoric humans had audio recording technology id be sat up here listening to grog and unga bunga's greatest hits don't play with me

Every human life deserves safety. It doesn't matter what side you are on. Every human life deserves safety.

a list of vetted fundraisers sent to me recently. i apologize for not sharing them earlier, i haven't had access to my askbox, but here they are now. Thank you for sending your campaigns to me and i will do my best to donate what i can to each. please share and donate, even just a little!

Help Ahmed, Abedelrahman, and family Escape war from @ahmedalnabeeh11 - they are 2/3 of the way there but still need to raise $10,000!

Donate to Ahmed's Journey to Safety and Education organized by @ahmadresh. this is @mohiy-gaza's brother! He still needs $7,000.

Help me and my family escape the war in Gaza from @asmaayyad. Asma reached out a few weeks ago but the campaign for her family is still very low and there are a lot of people depending on it!!

Help Musab and his family,my pets survive this war in Gaza from @musababd. Musab's previous account and campaign were mistakenly flagged as fraud and he had to start over, but it is indeed a verified campaign.

Help us for the sake of God from @abdelmutei. another big family who has to raise a LOT of money. please help them!!

Help us and my elderly parents to get out of the war from @nedaapalestine. Nedaa's parents need medications they cannot access in Gaza.

Help Nour and his family escape from the war in Gaza from @noorabd1992. this is a relatively new campaign and needs a lot of support, please donate what you can!

Hope for Gaza: Support Ashraf's Family Rebuild Their Lives from @ashraf-family2. Ashraf has reached out to me before and is so close to reaching the campaign goal, but they still need about $4,000 more!

Get my relatives out of Gaza from @ghaziyounes1967. Despite being several months old, this fundraiser is stuck at $2,000 because of high cost of food and supplies in Gaza, as with each of the families and individuals above.

Please support Palestinians in whatever way you can--even just donating to one or two campaigns will lessen the load for everyone! If you cannot donate, share and reblog, i specifically linked people's accounts in this post so you can reblog their fundraiser posts individually. Free Palestine

My aesthetic: Leland kicking in doors

My Aesthetic is Napoleon riding a horse into the wedding

I know a lot of you feel like Eddie would be automatically attracted to a fellow metal head or even the overly gorgeous cheerleader type… but for some reason, in my mind, I see him drawn to a soft, warm smiled, ultimate girl next door hippie type. A Stevie Nicks type, if you will. Fashion stuck in the 70s, probably hand me downs from her mother and sometimes her father (let’s be honest, men’s fashion back then was amazing). Turquoise jewelry a stark contrast against the metal chains Eddie wears.

Of course, she’d have to be a music lover too. But maybe their taste is different, but still similar enough to have a connection over it. Like maybe her repertoire expanded from Bob Dylan, to Roberta Flack, to Carole King, to Eagles, to Simon & Garfunkel, to Aerosmith, to Skid Row. I see her as an admirer of all music, maybe even a fellow musician herself, wanting to follow in the footsteps of her idol, Stevie Nicks.

Like their entire relationship is a total personification of the song Leather and Lace.

It. Just. Makes. Sense. To. Me.

hey (with the intention of forcing you to read my favourite books)

Steve Harrington has Kenergy

“You’d spent a year in a state of near hyperventilation ruminating on how he’d be alone, without you to protect him but more worryingly, you would be without him - the one person you loved most in every way.”

UGGGH OH MY GOD this is getting too personal

Your writing is just *chefs kiss*

finally, it's here. my first real series. loosely based on the film love, rosie. it's a devastatingly slow burn and full of angst and longing. i hope you guys enjoy.

after the events of season four, your best friend eddie munson moves on leaving you behind, in love with him and concealing a secret you never hope he discovers.

follow #enam3l love lola

At age 8 you met Eddie Munson for the first time and you were sure he was the prettiest person you'd ever seen. Your Grandmother had visited a womens refuge to drop off old clothes, pots, pans, things she owned but didn't need. There she had spotted a young woman, beautiful with cascading brown curls but a panicked look on her face and tears on the brink of falling. Attached to her leg was a boy, wide eyes anxiously scanning the alien surroundings. Drawn in by the sweet boy who looked your age, your grandmother approached the woman.

Over the next hour she had learnt their history and their circumstances. Within the next two hours your Gran took advantage of her own means to develop a plan for the pair. By that evening your dinner table had two extra settings arranged. No longer just you and your Grandmother, you were now joined by Eva Munson, your new housekeeper and her son - Eddie - who from under his mop of dark curls assessed you across the grand dining table with big bright eyes, the colour of the special chocolates you were only given at Christmas. He was pretty and precious like the delicate porcelain dolls you were only allowed to gaze at in your Grandma's reading room and you instinctively wanted so badly to take care of him. 

At age 11 and on the cusp of puberty, you realised Eddie Munson was not just pretty like a flower or doll, he was beautiful and kind like the unexpected saviour of a fairytale. With three years of best friendship under your belt, you understood that Eddie was not like any boy or even man you had ever met. He was not selfish or cruel like your father and he wasn't obnoxious and boring like the sons of your Grandmother's fancy friends, who until Eddie arrived, you had been stuck amongst. He was endlessly interesting, you could listen to him all day although he wouldn't allow that, always insisting on hearing your ideas too. Eddie had once asked you why your favourite book was Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. With a wicked smile you had replied because those spoilt children got their comeuppance and you could only dream about that happening to the many Augustus Gloops and Veruca Salts in your life. Slightly downtrodden, Eddie had chuckled glumly, 'I guess I am Charlie, poor and can't believe his luck .' 

Gasping and horrified at Eddie's lack of self belief, you furiously shook your head and began to explain,

'No! You're Willy Wonka. You are brilliant and yes, a little bit mad and no one can appreciate just how special you are.'

At age 14 you decided before anything, now more than ever, you had to be Eddie's sworn protector and you pushed your crush deep into the darkest corner of yourself. The content bubble that for the past five years you had been living in - consisting of yourself, your Grandmother, Eddie and his mom - had been burst. Eddie's mother died. Your best friend, already different by nature began to separate himself further from the world. His eyes became a little sadder. His clothes became darker. His music became angrier and louder. Your games became more complex, rarely concluding with a happy ending. His now shoulder length curls were buzzed. But most importantly you knew at this age, teenagers were getting meaner and you were not long off from starting High School. Whilst your heart ached to live out your teenage romance with Eddie, his heart was broken and he was in mourning. Your best friend, already an easy target for bullies, was more vulnerable than ever and protecting his heart was far more important than yours. 

At 17 as you watched Eddie's hair grow longer than ever and him truly come into his own, you had to work harder than ever to ignore it. Painfully aware your bodies were fully developed and hormone filled, you attempted to delude yourself that you weren't achingly in love with your best friend. You distracted yourself with meaningless flings and boyfriends who couldn't hold a candle to Eddie. High School was relatively smooth sailing for you, your respected name courtesy of your Gran gifting a protective shield. The higher echelon of students may not have liked you especially, god knows you loathed them but they respected you. Academia wasn't an issue, you excelled in plenty and even subjects you didn't particularly like or have a talent for, you were still able to do more than satisfactory in. The same couldn't be said for Eddie. You were truly his defender, your presence limiting the hate campaign that built against him. But when you weren't by his side, he was subjected to torment for his hair, his clothes, his passions and his background. Since his mom died, Uncle Wayne took him in and the trailer became his home. Despite Wayne working hard to provide a good and loving home, a trailer was still a red mark against Eddie's name to vapid teens. You were grateful still his warm personality and ability to seek out those in need, resulted in Hellfire Club. Now Eddie had allies. 

At 18 it was clear you would be graduating without Eddie. Whilst you could speak about his talents endlessly, your bestfriend was too creative, thought too abstract for academic life. As you stood on the stage alone, your heart cracked at the thought for the first time in a decade, your best friend wouldn't be by your side. You'd spent a year in a state of near hyperventilation ruminating on how he'd be alone, without you to protect him but more worryingly, you would be without him - the one person you loved most in every way. Realistically he would still have the younger boys from Hellfire but you'd have no one, alone in New York without your comfort blanket. The one fear that ate away at you was now that you were gone, Eddie might fall in love. He'd already developed a few admirers from becoming a local feature of The Hideout with his band Corroded Coffin. 

By 20 you were alone and Eddie-less in New York studying for your second year. He'd again failed to graduate and was on his third attempt. Whilst you loved your degree, the city and new friends it was undeniable it would all improve with his presence. Nearly every night you exchange stories over the phone and attempt to visit but as time passed, schedules became more hectic. With Hellfire and the band occupying the forefront of his mind, you felt like a ghost from his past growing more faint by the day. Each hook up tale from the bar chipped further away at you, each new person in his life pushing you further down his list. You'd ended up with boyfriends you loathed in selfish attempts to fill the Eddie shaped void in your heart.  

Now you're still 20, fearing Eddie won't be joining you in turning 21 in a few months time. He lays there before you, hand under yours and still absent of his inherent warmth. Alabaster skin near void of life, dark circles round his eyes matching the spreading mass of purple bruising across his torso. Already red seeps through the white fibres of fresh bandages. No longer in your arms, where he belongs, Eddie Munson lies in a hospital bed. Unconscious to your words and touch, oblivious of the tears that trickled down your face and splashed over his tattooed forearm. Flittering between life and death before you could even confess you were in love with your best friend.