It's Okay If It Takes A Little Longer Than You Thought.

cw: substance abuse, addiction, stobin drugging-related PTSD I'm home sick and found this fully written in my drafts? from march?? apparently?

Steve and Robin, who make jokes about that time we did LSD like it's a funny anecdote to the point where no one knows the actual context of the situation.

(Dustin and Erica would know, if Steve and Robin weren't still self aware enough to decidedly not make jokes about it where those two can hear)

(But still.)

Steve and Robin, who only trust a drink if it comes from the other, who trade off sober duties even if someone else is already designated driver because it's not the same as making sure one of them always has their wits about them.

Steve and Robin who, in the very immediate aftermath of Starcourt, develop two drastically different relationships with substances-- Robin who is detrimentally afraid of the glass of wine her parents sometimes offer her on special occasions versus Steve who can and will try everything available to him just to prove again and again that it was never going to kill him even if he felt like he was dying at the time.

They self destruct in equal but opposite ways for the rest of that first summer before the looking out for each other starts, before the coping via humor starts, before the decision to just call it LSD Steve because if I have to try and process that it was something that I can't read and learn about on top of everything else--

It's not like it ever leaves them though, this way that this specific trauma has fucked them up.

(It's not like Dustin and Erica don't notice, no matter how hard their friends try to hide it.)

It's not like there's anything they can do about it when Steve relapses and goes on a bender that has him losing a whole day of time and waking up to Robin checking his heart rate or when Robin thinks she's in a good enough headspace to do shots with their friends and ends up on the floor of another dirty bathroom with Steve holding her hair back, less from the booze and more from all the hyperventilating, the tears that won't stop until long after she's sober.

(It's not like people don't notice when Robin's jokes about their little LSD trip get pointed on nights Steve's had a bit too much, or how Steve cuts her off from making those jokes at all on nights her hands can't steady around a plastic cup; it's not like they could hide anything from people like this, who hunt monsters and solve mysteries and swallow horrors like the smoothest of whiskeys.)

(It's not like Dustin hasn't gone to Eddie when he gets worried, even if he never spills the whole story. It's not like Erica hasn't asked Nancy unsubtle questions about how to help people with dependency issues. It's not like Eddie and Nancy haven't spoken their own concerns into the quiet dark of night over crackling phone lines where no one else can hear.)

There are nights like this and they happen like clockwork, nights in the little house in Indy for which only two of them are technically on the lease but four and then six and sometimes a whole gaggle of high schoolers still pass through like transients every weekend.

There are nights like this, when the youngest of their ranks aren't around and the booze flows freely and they're out on the porch watching the sun set late with the lift and pull of summertime, when a conversation goes sour with a comment that betrays something that has yet to be spoken aloud.

Steve and Robin.

Steve and Robin who have clearly been through something the rest of them aren't privy to; Steve and Robin who mention it offhandedly without any proper details; Steve and Robin who are hurting right there in front of them and how are they supposed to help how are any of them supposed to--

"Okay, that's it--"

"Nance..."

It's Eddie's warning tone but it's also Jonathan giving her that look from where he's perched on the porch rail and it's also the sudden tension in Robin's brow and confusion in Argyle's and something painfully close to resignation in Steve's.

But this is Nancy Wheeler. It's a miracle she's let them go on like this for as long as she already has.

"No, I'm over the secrets," she shakes her head once, definitive, and levels her gaze on those twin hearts curled together on the porch swing. "You two are going to tell us what happened to you-- who hurt you-- and we're going to fucking fix it."

Steve and Robin, who lean impossibly closer into each other's space.

Steve and Robin, looking ready to bolt.

Steve and Robin, who don't look hopeful for any sort of fixing.

But it's not like it was going to stay unspoken forever.

November 1984

“Harrington?”

“Sorry, I didn’t—I thought this was the office.”

“Uh, next door. Since… always?”

“Right, yeah.”

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I just—I’ve got the register. Gotta hand it in. Shit.”

“Oops. Don’t worry, think that book’ll survive a fall or two, I swear it’s—”

“Oh, shit.”

“Dude, are you—? You really don’t look—”

“Just gotta. Gotta sit down.”

“Woah, you’re good, it’s—okay, the floor, great choice! Um, should you—? Shit, man, I don’t know any first aid. Is, um, putting your head between your knees, is that, like, a thing?”

“You’re kinda bad at this.”

“Hey, I’m trying my… Okay, you’ve gotta tell me if you’re dying.”

“Jesus Christ. M’not dying.”

“Famous last words.”

“Um. Water would be great, though.”

“Sure! I can do that. If you’re gonna ralph, feel free to do it over my homework, it’ll probably improve it.”

“Gross.”

“Here.”

“Thanks.”

“So. Why’re you even here, you look—”

“I’ve already had a week off. Thought I’d be… never mind.”

“I know.”

“Hmm?”

“I know you’ve been off for a week. It was… kinda hard not to notice.”

“Yeah, so I’ve heard.”

“It, um. It was Hargrove, then?”

“Back off, Munson.”

“Hey, I’m only—”

“I’m not giving anyone any more gossip material. Cafeteria’s already a fucking nightmare.”

“Okay, I’m sorry. I was only—I wasn’t trying to—”

“You’ve not sold to Hargrove yet, have you?”

“…Haven’t had the pleasure.”

“Good. Keep it that way.”

“I can’t exactly—”

“Eddie, I’m serious. Just—just don’t give him a reason, y’know? He’s dangerous.”

“Fine, fine. I’ve got it.”

“Like, what happened to me is small-fry compared to what he could’ve… Just trust me.”

“That’s kinda hard to believe. Jesus, don’t look at me like that! All right, I swear on… on all my campaign notes that my hero’s journey shall never dare cross the path of Billy Hargrove.”

“That’ll do.”

“Woah, don’t stand up so quick! Look, don’t spread it around that I’m still doing this, ‘cause I couldn’t keep up with supply and demand last year, so. Anyway, I can whip up a doctor’s note? Get you another week off?”

“No, that’s—I don’t need another—”

“Just, like, a couple days, then. C’mon, Harrington, this is a once in a lifetime deal.”

“Fine. …That was fast.”

“I’m nothing if not resourceful.”

“God, this looks good.”

“I’m offended you doubted me.”

“I don’t, I just—”

“Hey, gimme the register. Haunting the office is my specialty.”

“You don’t have to—I’m gonna go there anyway—”

“Seriously, Harrington, just take a breather. And you better not be in school tomorrow, don’t waste my handiwork.”

“I won’t. Hey, Eddie?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it. Like, really, don’t, or I’ll get overrun with forgery requests, and I’ll have to run away into the woods just to survive.”

“I won’t. …Weirdo.”

“Ha, I heard that!”

“You were meant to! …Oh, hi, Mr Mundy, sorry, I’ve—yeah, I handed in the register. So, I forgot, I’ve got a doctor’s appointment—”

I saw a tiktok of steve asking kas!eddie what he wanted to eat and it's the vine audio of "the souls of the innocent" "a bagel" "nooooo" "two bagel" with eddie saying a bagel and vecna as the other voice. And now I'm like a craxk steddie fic from vecna's perspective would be soooooo funny. Like imagine he resurrects eddie as kas and thinks he'll be this great asset and spy, but he's just too *heart eyes* at steve to ba a) useful and b) controlled lmao. Eddie will be sitting in on some sort of planning session and vecna piggybacking in his mind is like "finally! an advantage!" But then steve will stretch or something and eddie just hones in on the sliver of his stomach he can see and his horny thoughts are too loud for vecna to hear the "master plan" anymore

hehehehe here's the vine for anyone that wants culture

His body was badly damaged. But his mind was as strong as ever. It was child's play to connect with Eddie Munson and use the forces of the Upside Down to repair his body into something usable. The boy fought, but then he reminded him of all of the pain he'd gone through, all the regrets, the people he had to leave behind and soon enough, their goals were one. They made it to the surface and sought out those he knew.

Surely they were already planning their next counter. But he couldn't allow that. With this body though, he could blend in seamlessly. They would welcome their resurrected friend with open arms.

"Steve?"

'Ah yes, Steve.' Eddie had quite a few regrets when it came to this one. Henry didn't realize it yet, but most of his problems would come from Steve Harrington.

When he considered the biggest obstacles, of course that title went to Eleven. Among the rest, Nancy Wheeler was probably the most dangerous after that. But beyond her, the rest were mere ants. He only knew as much as he needed to know for his own ends. It was why he knew Steve was important to Eddie.

He had simply underestimated how important.

He also overestimated his control when it came to this body. He was a mere passenger. And try as he might, he just couldn't get Eddie to tap into that rage and fury that had brought him back to life.

'They left you for dead! Kill them!'

"Eddie, how's this one look?", Steve asked, turning around in the outfit he'd chosen.

Vecna found his voice drowned out with Eddie's heart thumping in his own ears. Apparently there was something fetching about Steve in his summer shorts.

-------------------------

"Hey Eddie, what d'you feel like eating?", Steve said as he perused take out menus.

'Tell him how you hunger for flesh. How you wish to rend him limb from limb and feast on his blood.'

"Chinese sounds really good right now."

'Noo!!'

"Can we get orange chicken?"

----------------------------

He had thought they'd all but given up on trying to defeat him earnestly but was proven wrong when a meeting was called. Vecna felt vindication rising as everyone gathered and Nancy took the helm, laying out what had happened and what they'd done so far. And Eddie was listening intently. He knew he'd be important to their plan. He had new abilities and a connection to the Upside Down now. This was perfect! Now he'd know exactly what they were planning and they would be none the wiser. Still, no one had figured out he was looking through their trusted friend's eyes.

"Alright, listen up because there's more phases to the plan this time", Nancy said. "We've got more people and that's more ground to cover, but it's important that everyone knows their part and sticks to it." She gave Eddie a meaningful look.

'Yeess. Yeeeeeeeessssss', Vecna grinned as she began to lay out the first part of the plan.

And then Steve had to go and yawn and stretch his arms and suddenly Eddie's eyes weren't on Nancy's face anymore but on that tiny sliver of stomach as Steve's shirt rose.

'Noooooooooooo', Vecna wailed as Nancy's voice was drowned out with how much Eddie wanted to nibble on that stomach.

-------------------------

He was losing his patience with his predicament. Every time he called Eddie to heel went unanswered. It was infuriating to be reduced to this. His forces might not be ready quite yet, but it was time to put an end to this.

"I got the popcorn!", Dustin exclaimed.

"Sodas on deck", Lucas announced.

"What's the flick?", Steve asked, sitting down next to Eddie.

Vecna would call upon the powers he had and open up another portal. One that would spell the end of Hawkins and the world. Movie night be damned.

"Secret of NIMH", Dustin said, putting the movie in.

....He could wait another day. He hadn't seen this one yet.

Masterpost: How to write a story?

Compilation of writing advice for some aspects of the writing process.

How to motivate myself to write more

How to get rid of writer’s block

Basic Overview: How to write a story

How to create a character

How to make a character unique

How to write conversation

Introducing a group of characters

Large cast of characters interacting in one scene

Redemption arc

Plot twists

How to write a summary

How to write romance

How to write emotional scenes

Fatal Character Flaws

More specific scenarios

Slow burn

How to create quick chemistry

How to write a bilingual character

How to write a polyamorous realtionship

How to create and write a cult

Criminal past comes to light

Reasons for breaking up while still loving each other

Forbidden love

Date gone wrong

Causes for the apocalypse

How to create a coffee shop atmosphere

How to write enemies to lovers

How to write lovers to enemies to lovers

Arranged matrimony for royalty

Paramilitary Forces/ Militia

Honeymoon

Academic Rivals to Lovers

How to write amnesia

AU ideas

Favourite tropes

Inconvenient things a ghost could do

Blankie

Steve has a blankie. It's his blankie. Worn and threadbare over the years. His grandmother had sown it for him, simple and plain.

But Steve loved it. Could never be without it.

"I threw it out,"

Steve had been gone the weekend. Checking the places over in Indianapolis that they could maybe afford. He'd been gone two days. Two fucking days.

"You what."

His mother doesn't even look up at him. She never has actually, paid him much attention.

"God Steven, don't make me repeat myself. I threw it out. With a bunch of your baby things. It was old and ratty. I should have thrown it out sooner really-

Steve doesn't listen, he's out the door before she's finished her sentence.

"Steven!"

He can see them, the boxes, chucked out by the mailbox. For anyone to just pick up. He tears open the first one, doesn't care that he's throwing baby toys across the yard.

It's at the bottom. Torn in half.

He walks back to the house.

His mother looks at him with disgust. He can tell. It's the same way she always looks at him when he's acting o u t.

Steve's lips twist into a shadow of his former self and he walks past her. He smashes the number he now knows by heart into the receiver.

It rings once before a click "I'm coming. Now. Forever."

And then he hangs up.

"Steven?"

She doesn't sound so sure now, he voice quivers slightly as he tears through the house, grabbing what little he actually has left there.

Then he makes a last turn around the kitchen, his mother hovering as he grabs the bread, Dustin's favourite cereal and the expensive chocolates from his dad that Eddie loves stealing.

"Steven it's just a blanket what are you doing?"

Steve whirls on his mother.

"Once a month, on the third Tuesday, your husband goes to a bar just out of town and fucks the youngest thing he can find. Boy or girl, he doesn't really care. It's not just a blanket it's the only proof I have that I was loved, goodbye Mother,"

And as he slams the front door he doesn't look back.

"Steven."

He doesn't pause.

Eddie's van is turning the corner.

"For what it's worth, I'm sorry."

Steve clenches that blanket to his chest.

"It's worth shit,"

Part 2

What's Eight Plus Seven?

Part One🦇Part Two🦇Part Three🦇Part Four🦇Part Five

Prompt from @devious-kitten

Steve had a mild interest in DnD as a freshmen because of a cousin or something. The interest was killed by Eddie being mean since Steve is a jock. Post vecna Eddie finds dust covered DnD handbook Steve explains and Eddie faces a still hurt Steve as a results of his biases

((Half written fic, half rambling about how it would go down. Apologies for the formatting. Also I added more angst than the prompt called for hehe))

Steve has always loved sports. This is a well-known fact. He's played on some sort of sports team from the time he was old enough for his parents to be able to sign him up.

A lesser-known fact is that Steve loves fantasy. Or, at least, he used to. On the playground in elementary school, Steve could often be found playing knights and dragons, and it was anyone's guess if he would be a knight or a dragon on any particular day.

The summer between middle and high school, Steve spent with his grandparents from his mother's side, on the farm they'd retired on in Michigan. A month long stay that he'd shared with his cousins, Amber, Robert, and Christopher. Amber and Robert are twins, four years younger than Steve, and Christopher was two years older and infinitely cooler than anyone else Steve knew.

Christopher was on the varsity basketball team at his high school when he was just a sophomore, captain of the JV football team, president of the chess club, and in a games club.

Christopher was everything Steve wanted to be now that he was going to be in high school. Minus the chess club because

It was during that summer, Steve got to indulge in playing make believe for another summer with his younger cousins, without the judgement of people (his father and peers) who thought he was too old for such things. He also got to learn about make believe for older kids, because Christopher played a game called Dungeons and Dragons with his game club the last month of school before summer break and spent many evenings going over what had happened with Steve as a captive audience.

"I wish I'd brought the books," Christopher had whispered to him one night from the bed, peaking over to look down at Steve in his sleeping bag on the floor, "we could have played."

Steve wishes he'd brought the books, too.

At the end of July, Christopher, Amber, and Robert's parents show up to pick them up, five days before Steve's scheduled flight to Indianapolis. It's a sad goodbye because one summer a year isn't enough with his cousins but they live in Washington. Steve's always jealous their parents drive all the way to pick them up, but a little proud he gets to brag about how he's flown alone since he was seven. No one else in his class can brag about that.

His mom picks him up in Indianapolis and they go back to school shopping while there.

A week later, Steve receives a package from Christopher. Inside Steve finds Advanced Dungeons and Dragons books, three of them, and even though Christopher said nothing about advanced, he's sure he can manage. On the inside cover of the players handbook, Christopher has written:

Hey Steve, I think you'd rock playing a dwarf paladin. Let's play next summer? Christopher 1981

He spends the last three weeks of summer vacation reading the player handbook cover to cover and making a character. It's slow going, because letters don't stay where they're supposed to be on the page (that's a problem he's had his whole life, so he's not surprised but he is determined), and he's never been good at math, so getting the stats down on paper isn't easy. He can't decide what he wants to play, so he makes two characters; an elf magic-user and, of course, a dwarf paladin.

(He's a little disappointed you can't be a dragon.)

Steve's never been one to dread the first day of school, but he's never actually looked forward to it, either. It's just been another day.

Until today.

Today is his first day as a high schooler. And the only people who go to the first day are Freshman, except the upper classman that have volunteered to man the booths for school activities for the last hour of the day. It's supposed to help the Freshman get the lay of the land without being overwhelming and Steve's excited for it. He needs to see if Hawkins High has a games club like Christopher's school does.

Here Steve is, that last hour of school. He's already been to the basketball booth, promising to sign up as soon as the season started, and the swim booth because he's got a pool at his house and has been swimming for as long as he can remember and knows he enjoys it. He also stops by the football booth even though he's never played, or cared much, for it. (Maybe he's trying to emulate Christopher, sue him.). So, the final thing is to see if Hawkins High offers a chess club and a game club.

Steve is delighted to see that, though there is no games club, there is a Dungeons and Dragons club! That delight wavers because of the kid manning the booth. His hair is curly and falls just below his ears, with big brown eyes. Steve hates to think it, but he'd be cute if he didn't look like he wanted to stab Steve.

"Yeah, no, keep walking," says the boy, pulling the flier with meeting information on it out from under Steve's hand, where he'd been attempting to read it.

Steve looks up, brows furrowed in confusion. "I was reading that."

"And I said no. Jocks don't play Dungeons and Dragons."

"I could," Steve says, offended. He squints at the name tag sticker slapped diagonally across the way too big jean vest this guy's wearing. E-d-d-i-e. Eddie.

"Have you ever played?"

"Well... no, but-"

"No buts. Mitch let a jock join last year and that was a nightmare. He could barely read the rule book. And with how you were squinting down at the flier, and then my name tag, you're not going to be much better."

Jokes on Eddie, Steve's already read the rule book. Even if it was slowly. "I can read just fine."

"Can you math, then? What's eight plus seven?"

"What?"

"Simple addition. Eight plus seven. What is it?"

Steve knows simple addition. This is fine. It doesn't matter than he's been put on the spot, and that math is hard for the same reason as reading. He can do this. His hand twitches with wanting to pull it up and use it to keep track. He's faster at math when he can do that, but this jerk is mean mugging him and he just knows if he moves his hand, this guy will mock him the rest of the school year.

Eight plus seven. Ok. Make it easier, get to ten. It takes adding two to the eight to get ten. Ok. Take that two away from the seven now. That makes... five! Ok. Ten plus five is-

"Dude, it's fifteen," Eddie snaps.

"I knew that!"

Scoff. "Right. How about seventeen plus six."

Steve can feel his face turning red with embarrassment but he's not going to let this jackass be right. Round up. It takes three to get seventeen to twenty, so take three away from the six-

"23. Point proven. Go. Away. Go play your jock games and leave me- us alone."

Steve opens his mouth to argue, or maybe plead, that he can do this, and that, more importantly, he wants to do this, but laughter cuts through the air and for the first time, Steve notices the audience that has gathered. Three people are laughing at him, and his inability to do mental math, and it makes Steve snap his jaw shut and swallow.

"Mental math isn't that hard, Steve," one of them, Brant, says, as he elbows the guy next to him.

"Thank you!" Eddie says, "that's what I'm saying."

"Whatever, man, like I'd want to play make believe at this age anyway," Steve mutters and rushes away.

If, two weeks later, Steve watches Kyle trip who he now knows is Eddie 'The Freak' Munson in the bathroom, and drag him into a stall for a swirly, well, no he didn't. He briefly thinks of saying something to stop Kyle, but shoves the words down and instead turns on heel and leaves that bathroom just as the sound of flushing and Eddie yelling start. The thick bathroom door does a good job of muffling the noise and if Steve feels any guilt about that, he shoves that down, too.

Besides, Kyle's the captain of the basketball team and if Steve wants a chance to be on that team, he can't stay anything. It's a well-known fact that Steve likes sports, after all. He's going to stick to that. Screw Eddie Munson and his Dungeons and Dragons club.

Steve will get to play Dungeons and Dragons with Christopher next summer.

Except, halfway through the school year, Steve and his parents quickly board a plane bound for Washington. Turns out being as perfect as Christopher was is hard. Overwhelming.

They arrive the day before the funeral, and fly out right after it. Steve barely has time to mourn before they're shuffling him back to school that Monday.

Christopher died, and with him, so does Steve's desire to be just like him. He quits the football team. He keeps basketball because he does like it, even without Christopher's influence. He can't bring himself to get rid of the Dungeons and Dragons books, but he can't look at them, either. They end up in the downstairs hall closet, forgotten on the shelf.

So, years later, after rising to the top of the food chain (no one was ever going to embarrass him like Eddie Munson had again) and then falling to the bottom (who cares about high school popularity when interdimensional monsters exist) and of course, the years of fighting against said interdimensional monsters before ending it all in spring of '86, Steve finds himself, unwillingly, agreeing to host Hellfire since the school banned the club following the events of spring break.

Damn Dustin Henderson. Steve usually has the backbone to say no but Dustin had to play up 'getting a chance to finally just be kids' and fuck, how was Steve going to say no to that? Despite how quickly his own desire to be a freshman playing Dungeons and Dragon had been squashed, he can't be the one to ruin this for them.

"Thanks for hosting, man," Eddie says when Steve lets him in. He's an hour early but had asked if that was okay. Apparently the dungeon master has a lot of prep to do? Not that Steve would know.

"Sure," Steve says, dismissively, because while Eddie and he went through hell together, and Steve carried his sorry ass out of the Upside Down, Steve can't quite let his guard down around him.

It's funny. In the Upside Down, Eddie had made a point to tell him he's changed, is a 'good dude' now. So, what's funny is how much Eddie is exactly the same person he was five years ago. He was an ass to Steve five years ago, and as far as Steve is concerned, was also an ass to Lucas for wanting to play basketball just this year.

He swears to God, if he hears one negative thing about Lucas tonight, he's punching Eddie unconscious, no matter what the rest of Hellfire will do or say about it.

Eddie's been in his dining room for maybe five minutes before he finds Steve in the living room. Steve's got a movie playing but he couldn't tell you which one. He's not really watching it.

"Do you got a table cloth for that big table? Jeff's got a set of metal dice and I'd feel like a real ass if we scratched it on accident."

Steve takes a deep breath before answering. He hates that Eddie is considerate like this, has been since spring break if Steve's being honest, but he doesn't want to see Eddie's good qualities. So, he waves in the direction of the closet. "Yeah. There should be some in the hall closet there. Help yourself."

"Thanks."

He twists on the couch to watch Eddie cross the room to the closet door, listens as the door creaks opens, hears the quiet, pleased noise Eddie lets out when his eyes land on the stack of table clothes. Steve continues to watch as Eddie just grabs the whole stack and yanks them off the top shelf.

Which means his watching as the stack of non-fabric objects, which must have been half atop the table clothes, also tumble out of the closet, bouncing off various parts of Eddie. It's a bunch of miscellaneous items. However, Steve realizes with horror, the book that bounces off Eddie's head is his copy of the Monster Manual. Eddie has stepped back in surprise (and possibly pain), so the Dungeon Master Guide and the Players Handbook bounce off his torso and leg before landing on the ground.

"Fuck," Eddie curses, before he stares down at what just assaulted him. Steve just stares at Eddie, watching as he slowly comes to comprehend what he's seeing. He watches as Eddie bends down and grabs the Player Handbook, the last thing to fall, from a top the pile. "What the-"

Steve stands, suddenly defensive, but doesn't actually say anything or move closer. He just watches as Eddie examines the book, flipping it from front to back in his hand like the title will change if he does that enough times.

Then, Eddie turns to him, bewildered. "Present for one of the kids? Thought they all had their own copies."

"No."

Eddie flips the book open. Reads the words written in there so many years ago. "Who's Christopher? Wait. 1981? You were playing D&D in 1981?"

"None of your business, and no," Steve says, now kicking into action, stomping up to Eddie and snatching the book from his hands.

Eddie hold his hands up in defense before his eyes turn mischievous. The same glint in them now that was there when Eddie'd leaned into this space in the RV and called him big boy. "Are you lying to me, Stevie? You've played before, haven't you?"

It makes Steve's blood boil. "No. I haven't played!"

"Alright. You could now, you know," Eddie says. And it's the way he says it, all nonchalant and like he's trying to be coy about it- it tips something over inside Steve. A bottle that held his humiliation and hurt from all those years ago.

"Oh, now I'm good enough for D&D? Now I can join? Aren't I too much of a jock for you!?"

"Whoa, what's with the hostility-"

"What's eight plus seven, Eddie!?" Steve snaps. His memory might be shit these days, with all the concussions, but the unfortunate part about Steve is that he always seems to remember the bad. And he remembers Freshman First Day like yesterday. "No? How about seventeen plus six? Come on, mental math isn't hard. Or don't you remember? I'm just a stupid jock too slow on the uptake, or no, what was it you said? It'll be a nightmare to play with me, 'cause I might be barely able to read the rules?"

He watches as Eddie's face morphs from confusion, to understanding and horror. "Holy shit, Steve. That was you- you wanted to join Hellfire-"

"Yeah, and you made it pretty fuckin' clear I didn't belong in it."

"I'm sorry man. I shouldn't have- if I'd known you, I never would have-"

"That's the problem, Eddie!" Steve shouts, waving the book in front of him. "You didn't know me. You looked at me and decided for me that I was going to be a jock and nothing else and then humiliated me in front of other people! You didn't even bother to try to know me. I spent three weeks reading this stupid book cover to cover because I knew I was shit at reading and I still wanted to try anyway."

He sees Eddie puffing up in anger. "Well, I wasn't exactly wrong, was I? You were a jock, a bully even!"

"Yeah, because I was a dumb, hurt kid who decided that it was better to hurt than be hurt. As if you weren't exactly the same that day, lashing out at me first, at my reading ability, and mocking me for not being quick at math. Fuck you, Munson!" Steve walks away, not hearing anything Eddie shouts after him as he sprints up the stairs and shuts himself in his room.

Steve knows he was a dick in high school, and it's not Eddie's fault he was a dick. Steve made choices he's not proud of and no one forced those choice on him. But Eddie doesn't get to throw that back in his face. Not when Eddie made him feel humiliated and stupid on the first goddamn day of high school, long before Steve became mean himself.

when i forget to log into ao3 and i have to click proceed to see an adult fic, i actually get a kick out of it. like i am an old timey queen and my bard is apologetic: “gentle lady, dicks doth touch in this next ballad. would you prefer another?” and i give him a gesture of command like, “nay, you may proceed, minstrel. bring forth the tale of dicks”

Monster town S2, P2!

A note: Parts 1, 2, and 3 happen simultaneously. Parts 4 and 5 (possibly 6) happen simultaneously.

Worldbuilding: 1–2–3

Season 1: 1–2–3–4–5–6–7–8

Season 2: 1–2

This is what happens when two intellectuals get together to solve problems. If the story sounds weird, sorry, never really been smart before.

(You ever heard of She-Ra?)

————

Nancy wrapped a bag of ice in a dish towel, before walking back into the main area. The bodies of the basketball players were still up against the walls, hopefully only asleep. There were about 8 of them, with an average of two per wall.

Steve had fallen fast asleep on the couch, to the point where he had started snoring. Both Nancy and Dustin knew Steve snoring loudly was highly unusual—obviously it meant whatever magic he’d used earlier was massively exhaustive. Therefore, they both made it a goal to try and be as quiet as possible so they wouldn’t wake him.

In theory, that’d mean moving rooms in order to provide him more silence while they talked and strategized.

The main issue with that was what if any of the basketball players woke up? It would leave Steve completely defenseless. Not to mention Dustin, either, who’d completely refused to leave his side once everyone left. Nancy assumed it was some sort of werewolf pack thing, since it was very clear by the way he had positioned Steve’s arm over his torso: he needed sensory comfort.

She handed the ice pack over to the kid, before sitting herself in front of him criss-crossed.

That was another thing, too. When Dustin was pushed down, he was pushed down on his bad ankle. By Nancy’s suggestion (requirement) he was sitting and icing it for 20-30 minutes.

“I don’t need this,” Dustin raised an eyebrow, trying to give the ice pack back. Nancy shook her head and shoved it back to him.

“I don’t care,”

“I have super healing!” Nancy rolled her eyes.

“And I still want you healing the tried-and-true human way. Steve would agree with me if he was awake,” she raised an eyebrow, and Dustin sighed.

He couldn’t fight her on that one, and she knew it.

“What do you think happened with Steve?” Dustin asked, “I have my ideas but I want to know yours,”

Nancy shook her head. She wasn’t on any research teams, only the main theorizing one.

“I understand it’s probably related to being a siren. You saw how he re-shifted when the wind picked up, right?”

Dustin nodded. “Yup. I was reading earlier; Mélusine descendants have wind powers. I wonder if he’s powerful enough that he just can’t control it.”

"That would make sense, especially since his line is direct. Could Eddie teach him anything to help midigate any future outbursts?”

Dustin shrugged. “No clue. Plus, Steve’s response indicated this has all happened before. He wasn’t even shocked!”

Nancy nodded wildly. She’d noticed that too, how nonchalant Steve’s response to the whole ordeal was. If that had happened before though, who had that happened to? Had anyone gotten hurt in the process?

“He wasn’t. If he hadn’t explained why he stopped using sirenspeak, I would’ve thought maybe that stopped him from using magic,”

Dustin frowned, looking as if he was processing through an idea.

“What if…he did? What if he had more magic, but whatever he did changed him, and from then on he only ventured so far as to sirenspeak people?”

Nancy’s eyes widened.

“Then when the demogorgon happened, he bottled up the last parts of him left, and this was the first time he’d let anything go,”

Dustin’s eyes widened in tandem, and they both panned their gaze to Steve, still sound asleep.

There was a brief pause.

“How many books did you collectively check from the library again?” Nancy asked, attempting to see if there was anything she could scrap to find a historical narrative there. Maybe there was something in one of the books that said why Steve was so powerful, or alluded to how or when Steve had his first outburst.

“You’re not gonna find what you need, not many books actually go in depth with siren magic, much less siren anatomy,” Dustin shook his head, “That being said, Steve’s dad has a good collection of books in his office. Maybe one of those could help?”

Nancy nodded and started getting up.

“Be right back,” she said, but Dustin stopped her before she walked away.

“Wait, one thing before you go, did you hear that song?”

Nancy frowned, looking at Dustin.

“What song?”

“Okay, that answers my question. It’s the song that played in the air while Steve was doing his whole,” he made large wind movements with his hands, and Nancy understood.

“Nope. Remember, if there’s anyone in the group who could hear as well as you, it’s a Sinclair,”

“One sec—you stay with Steve,” Dustin got up, bolting (with his limp) to Steve’s basement. Nancy tried to protest, but he pretended not to hear her.

Stubborn dick.

10 minutes later, Dustin came out holding an electric keyboard over his shoulder. He set it up near the couch, turning it on. It seemed like he was trying to play the melody he’d heard, but he kept screwing up whatever note he was playing.

“Bb…Gb—no, Ab…E—no, F—no, Eb…”

Nancy walked away, since that was something Dustin could manage on his own. She walked towards Steve’s dad’s office—which Steve had never allowed her into before—opening the door to the most sad, beige room she’d ever seen.

The most important thing about it was the large shelves covering the right wall, all completely filed with books on books.

The first book that caught Nancy’s eye was something in the runic script from Steve’s book. She had no clue what the title was or what any of it said, but something in her gut told her it was something she needed.

The second book that caught her eye had no title or cover, but when Nancy looked inside seemed to be a diary of sorts in English. She put both books on the desk as she looked for a third book—the same gut feeling said she had only one more book to look for.

The book in question was large and red, coated in copper runes, and completely bound by a bright, tight red ribbon. As she analyzed it further, it almost looked like—

“NANCY WHEELER,”

————

I’d like to know: any suspicions on who the last voice is? It’s not Dustin, but still someone very important to the plot.

And yes, Dustin is a little choir boy. Because he is a little choir boy and he’s Dustin, that means he definitely is a music theory nerd and knows at least enough piano to get by. It’s quite literally the math of music.

The correct sequence he’s trying to play is Bb-Ab-Eb-Gb-Rest-Bb-Ab-Eb-Db. For my fellow music people, go and play it! It’s completely unrelated to the plot but it is a cutesy little Easter egg.

Finally, again, anyone heard of She-Ra?

Tag list: @estrellami-1 @cookies-and-doom @beckkthewreck  @dbquills @impeachy @sassysleeplord @ironydude @bowl-o-queerios @221b-fandom

Eddie walked into Steve’s house to find the kids crowded around the entrance to the living room. He looked in to find Robin and Steve hanging upside down on the couch, looking depressed.

Eddie: What's going on?

Dustin: They got rejected by a cult today.

Robin: And the thing is, we didn't know it was a cult.

Steve: And when we did figure it out, we didn't want to join, but suddenly, they wanted us!

Robin: And now they don't!

Steve: What the hell does "too perfect" even mean?!

Max: Why are you upset they rejected you?! They kidnapped you!

Robin: And it's nice to feel wanted sometimes, Maxine!

Eddie: Okay, where the hell is this place?

An hour later, Eddie stormed back into the house, brushed past the kids, and threw himself down next to Robin.

Robin: You get rejected, too?

Eddie: They just looked me up and down and shook their heads! Then, when I demanded answers, they threw me out! What the hell kind of cult is this?

Steve: It's a rude cult.

A few minutes later, Hopper came to pick up Will and El.

Hopper: *looking into the living room* What the hell happened?

Will: Go easy on them, dad. They got rejected by an entire cult today.

Hopper: What?!

Please, for the love of god, please don’t be this person. No matter how long it’s been since an update, no matter how many unfinished stories are sitting on their account, no matter what - do not be this person.

Not only is it insanely rude, but you also do more damage than you think be being such a self-entitled ass about something someone created for free and for fun. “This author” can see what you say.

RIP decency indeed.