Wayne Munson #StrangerThingsRP Advanced Literate Friendly Admin ♡ this for a written starter. RT? Much Appreciated.

I didn’t do anything special—I got to watch two incredible souls become exactly who they're meant to be and I got two children in return. [Every single Eddie]

// You know...? This is my exact thoughts. ALL. THE. TIME. 😭

𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐬 [Do not comment!] . ♡+↺? (Click linked tweet for information!)

Thread Of Threads ♡❁♡ [Do not comment!] . ♡+↺? PARODY, NOT AVRIL. {rbf, rbi} (Click linked tweet for information!)

𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐬 . ♡+↺? (Click linked tweet for information !) PARODY <not Taylor Momsen>

𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐬 . ♡+↺? (Click linked tweet for information !) PARODY

His voice, rougher now. “And don’t you think for a second this hasn’t torn me apart too. Do you have any idea how I felt—walking into my own living room and seeing the Cunningham girl lying there on the floor?” He swallows. “In my house...”

He shakes his head, bitterness flickering across his face. “But folks around here don’t care about that. They see someone who doesn’t fit, and they turn their noses up. Easier to blame Eddie.”

“Listen to me,” he says. “Eddie didn’t do this. I raised that boy. I taught him respect. I taught him not to hurt people, not to take what isn’t his, not to lie. He marches to his own beat—but he’s got a good heart. Always has.”

Hey… don’t you ever say that about yourself. Not in this house. Not to me.” He shakes his head. “There ain’t a thing wrong with our blood. What is wrong is the way folks look for someone to blame when they’re scared.”

“So tell me, kid—this just admiration you’re talkin’ about…” he gives another chuckle, “…or you still harborin’ a few feelings there?”

“Eddie mentioned Nancy once or twice.” A faint smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “Called her a real gunslinger. Said when she sets her mind on somethin’, she don’t miss.” He shifts the weight of the (tw) gun on his shoulder and glances over at Steve.

They move side by side, steps slow and unhurried, Wayne listening while Steve talks. He doesn’t interrupt—just nods now and then, eyes scanning the woods ahead. When Steve finishes, Wayne hums softly, turning the words over in his head.

Uncle Wayne lets out a quiet chuckle. The (tw) gun stays hooked over his shoulder as he tips his head down the trail and gives Steve a small nod. “C’mon,” he says, already starting to walk.

“Don’t mean you gotta do anything,” Wayne adds. “Could just come along. Watch. Fresh air does a guy some good.” “If you want, that is,” he says, nodding toward the door. “No pressure, kid.”

“Yeah,” he says. “Mine weren’t either. Not really. Still—never a bad time to learn somethin’ new.” He pauses, eyes flicking briefly around the trailer before settling back on Steve, softer now.

Wayne gives a small grunt at that, the corner of his mouth twitching, might turn into a smile if it remembered how. He reaches for the (tw) gun by the door, checks the strap, then slings it over his shoulder with an ease that comes from years of repetition.

Now leaned against the counter, arms crossing, eyes flicking away, before coming back. “He always said that food like that don’t mean much if you don’t share it.” After a moment, he cleared his throat. “You ever been huntin’?”

“Didn’t think they were still here,” he said quietly. “Last box. Used to be Eddie's favorite.” Without making a big deal of it, he tossed the box toward Steve. “Figure he wouldn’t mind you havin’ ’em.”

He stood and wandered over to the cupboards, opening them one by one. Tin cans rattled, wood creaked. Then he stopped. Reached in. Uncle Wayne stared at the box in his hand for a second longer than necessary. The corners were bent, the cardboard faded.