Steve Having Periods Where He Just Zones Out, And Thinking That Zoning Out Is An Acceptable Alternative

german fanfiction writers of tumblr

please reblog this with your age (if you're comfortable!), the platform you started publishing fics on, and what the name Anne-Rose means to you.

You know, the funniest implication in Stranger Things is that Dustin swears so much because his mom does.

reblog to give your headache to elon musk instead

Sad Steddie Scenario Part 4

Hiiiiiiiii. Here is the THING I mentioned I had for today. Part 5 should be out later this week (please help me manifest) I've got most of it written. Quick summary since it's been so long - After a disastrous "meet the friends" night with the Hellfire guys, Eddie says some unintentionally cruel things, then decides he and Steve are too different and breaks things off.

CW: a couple of mentions of child abuse

Part One, Part Two, Part Three

____________________________

Steve doesn’t remember much about the week after Eddie breaks up with him. He starts each day with unnamed misery filling his chest, black and viscous. For the first few seconds between sleep and wakefulness, he’s overwhelmed, unable to identify its source. Just as it finally clicks, why he feels like tar is oozing through his body, why he can’t take a full breath, his dad knocks a solid fist onto his door. He’s always had a sixth sense of when Steve is awake and “lollygagging” in bed. He never waits for an answer to his knock, just sticks his head in and says, “Move your ass, Steve. Now.” He doesn’t shut the door again as he leaves, and he doesn’t wait to see if Steve listens to him because there’s never a question in his mind that Steve will.

And every morning, Steve gets up, pushes the misery aside. Never away. It coats his bones and drags him down and doesn’t leave, but it’s paired with a nervy buzzing, an anxious hum that roars through his head whenever his parents are around.

They like him to be present when they’re home. He’s been able to get out of the couple of dinner parties they’ve attended the past few days through sheer luck of being scheduled to close at work, but when they’re not out, they expect him in their eye line at all times. “We never get to see you, Steve,” his mom says one night at dinner, with zero trace of irony. “Is it too much to ask that you not hide away in your room while we’re here? We’ve been visiting all the old crowd. They’ve all asked where you were.”

“If you’re not going to spend time with us,” his dad chimes in, waving a third glass of tequila and soda around haphazardly, “you need to be out pounding pavement trying to find a job. A real job.”

“He’s right, dear. Do you know how embarrassing it was for me to tell LeAnn Perkins, of all people, that you were still at that awful video store? Her daughter is off to Ball State in September. Imagine being embarrassed by someone whose daughter is going to Ball State. Is this what you want for your mother?”

Steve’s pretty sure Ball State is a fine school, one that only a year ago his parents were encouraging him to apply to. He twirls his pasta around his fork and stays quiet.

“Hey!” Steve hears the smack land across the back of his head more than he feels it. “Are you paying attention?”

“Yes, sir.” He keeps his hands still, his eyes on his plate.

“Because you look like you’re bored, Steve. Is your mother boring you?”

“No, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize to me. Apologize to your mother.” Steve angles toward his mom, raises his eyes to her forehead instead of making direct contact.

“I’m sorry, Mom. I’m just tired.”

“From what?”

Steve barely holds in a sigh. And so it goes their entire visit.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The kids know he’s not as available when his parents visit. They think it’s because Steve never gets to see them so he wants to spend time with them - or at least, Steve hopes that’s what they think - and he’s glad of the excuse to keep contact to a minimum. He doesn’t need them asking questions. As it is, the couple of times he does see them—because they all drop by the store at least once—he can tell they know something is up. Mike’s clearly making an effort to be less annoying than normal, Max’s eyes bore holes into him from behind her new Coke bottle glasses, and Dustin tries to corner him while Robin rings Mrs. Henderson up. But Steve does his best to deflect them and is mostly successful.

Robin is harder to evade. She oscillates between encouraging him to talk to Eddie, figure out where everything went wrong, and raging to him that he doesn’t ever need to see Eddie again if he doesn’t want to and she’ll personally ban him from Family Video for life if Steve wants her to. Steve gives her a lot of “can we please stop talking about this?” and “We’re just cooling off, I’ll talk to him soon,” because every time he tries to tell her, the words refuse to leave his mouth. As soon as he tells her they’re over, it’s 100% real, and he can’t bear it.

So he spends the week exhausted, his body cycling through moments of heavy sadness and tense anxiety. Thankfully, his parents leave Wednesday afternoon. Steve doesn’t realize they’re heading out until his mom calls him downstairs to see them off. She takes the opportunity to tell Steve again how disappointed she is in what he’s doing with his life, how embarrassing the entire visit has been for them having to explain to their friends what he’s up to. His dad calls him lazy and a waste of potential.

Sometimes when they talk at him like this, Steve zones out. The buzzing that’s in his head gets so loud he can’t hear what they’re saying. He feels outside his body, loses time. Sometimes he doesn’t come back to himself for an hour or more. This time, he’s pretty sure he’s only lost a few minutes. His parents are gone. He’s curled up on the bathroom floor with no memory of how he got there. He’s clutching the cordless phone, partway through dialing a number from muscle memory, but then he remembers it’s one he’s no longer free to use. He presses the button to end the call lightning quick and tosses the phone far away from him.

It was stupid to think about calling Eddie anyway. Steve’s never told him about his parents, except to say they’re assholes. Never wanted to spoil the time they had together with his poor little rich kid sob story. After they got together, things were so good. Steve was happier than he can ever remember being. The Upside Down shit was over, Robin was planning to take a gap year so she could work and save money, so Steve didn’t have to worry about her leaving just yet. The kids were loud and thriving without the threat of the apocalypse weighing them down. And every time he was with Eddie was so…so perfect, he thought.

Fucking stupid.

He thinks about calling Robin. Whenever he calls her after he has to deal with his parents, she talks and talks and talks, leaving no room for anything in his mind except whatever ridiculous thing she decides to say. She saves all her most ridiculous thoughts for these moments and he loves her so much for it. But it’s not her he wants to talk to.

In the end, he doesn’t have to call anyone. As soon as he finds the strength to get off the floor, there’s a pounding at his front door and a very insistent Dustin Henderson calling out to him to “open up or so help me God—”

“All right, all right!” Steve barely gets the doorknob turned before the kid bursts inside, completely ignoring Steve’s wipe your feet, asshole! as as he blows past him, headed for the kitchen.

“Get in here, Harrington! You owe me a float.”

Steve shakes his head and follows. This might as well happen.

“What for?”

“Uh, what for?” Dustin slides onto a bar stool at the counter and Steve starts assembling the floats. “How about for not answering your walkie? How about for completely ignoring me when my mom and I came to the store the other day? How about for—”

“Do you want a cherry on top?” Steve asks, interrupting Dustin before he can rile himself up more.

“Obviously I want a goddamn cherry, Steve.” Steve pulls out the cherries. He puts the finishing touches on the float and hands one to Dustin, rounding the counter to sit next to him. They spend the next few minutes in blissful silence as they eat. The sugar perks Steve up like nothing has all week and by the time he’s done, he’s feeling almost optimistic. Then Dustin speaks.

“So are we gonna talk about it?” He drums his fingers on his float glass, eyeing Steve pointedly.

Steve sighs. “Talk about what?” Maybe if he plays dumb for long enough, Dustin will get tired and leave him alone.

That could totally happen.

“Why you were crying in the car. Why you’ve been moping around for the past week. Why Eddie hasn’t been returning my calls.”

Steve’s eyes cut to Dustin. “Eddie hasn’t been returning your calls?”

“Or answering the door when I go over, so someone better tell me what the shit is going on or I’m going to have El torture it out of you.”

“Okay, whoa. First off, El would never do that. Second off, you know I was actually tortured, right? You remember that? Not cool, dude.”

“Yeah, I remember that, and you folded like a cheap suit, gave the Russians my full name. So I already know you’re susceptible.”

“They gave me a truth serum!”

“Excuses, Steve. Excuses.” Dustin fixes him with an expectant stare. “So. Why were you crying in the car?”

“I told you it was allergies.”

“Do I look like an idiot?”

Steve tilts his hand from side to side. “Ennnhh.”

“Don’t answer that. I’m going to ask again. Why. Were. You. Crying.” He punctuates each word with a sharp poke to Steve’s chest.

“Jesus, dude! It was allergies! I wasn’t crying.” Steve swats him away and stands up, desperate for some space. But he doesn’t go far, leans on the wall across from the counter. He doesn’t want to talk about this, but maybe he needs to. Robin accuses him of wallowing, shutting himself off when he’s upset. She says it only makes it worse.

Dustin stands up with him, crosses his arms over his chest. “Steve. Are you trying to teach me it’s not okay for boys to cry? Is that the idea of masculinity you want me to have?”

“Oh my god, you’re going to get me in so much trouble.” “Fine. Me and Eddie broke up, okay?”

“What, when you came to pick us up?”

“Yeah.”

“What the fuck, Steve?”

“That’s what I said!”

“What did you do?”

“Okay, asshole. I didn’t do shit.” He bangs the back of his head lightly against the wall in frustration. “Or I may have done shit, I don’t know. Robin and I tried to figure it out, but we couldn’t.”

“So why don’t you tell me what happened? I’m the smartest person you know. I can help way better than Robin.”

“I don’t know, man. Feels wrong to talk to you about it with you.”

“I talk to you about my problems with Suzie! Why can’t you talk to me about your problems with Eddie?”

“I don’t know, it’s just different! I don’t know Suzie. You know Eddie. Feels like I’m gossiping behind his back or something.”

“Who else are you going to talk to then? Everyone you know hangs out with Eddie. Including Robin.” Dustin’s voice goes soft. “Come on, man. Let me help. You’re always helping me. I’ve been in a relationship for a whole year. Suzie and I are very happy. I know things!”

“I know you do, Henderson. But I don’t think I can talk about it right now. I’m really…I’m just really fucking sad.” That’s it. Steve’s really fucking sad. It feels stupid to be this sad with all they’ve been through. Selfish, indulgent. But three weeks ago he’d spent his days listening to his boyfriend jam out in his car, or watching him bounce around his room while he tried to explain a fantasy game, or cuddling up next to him in bed, whispering sweet words that Steve never thought anyone would say to him. And maybe it had been too soon, but he’d honestly thought he’d be doing those things for the rest of his life. But now that was all gone and he has no idea why.

“I thought we were doing okay,” he says to Dustin. “It was the same with Nancy. I thought things were fine, and then it blew up in my face. I don’t know why this keeps happening. It’s even worse with Eddie, though.”

“Why’s that?” He says it so gently, in a way he never is, that Steve has to take a minute. He swipes a hand across his mouth, breathes in hard before he can continue.

“Me and Nancy,” he says. “We were never going to work out. We don’t want any of the same things. And she liked me at first, but I think she was just trying to cut loose by being with me, break out of her shell or whatever. But Eddie, I thought he actually liked me, you know? He always wanted to show me stuff, play me a song he was writing, teach me the Dragon game, get my opinion on tattoos he wanted. And he never thought anything I said was stupid. Guess I was being stupid, though.”

“Steve.”

But Steve can’t take it anymore. He gives himself a shake, pushes against the wall to stand up straight. “Shit, man, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have unloaded all that on you.”

“I’m glad you did. You never let me help you with stuff like this. I want to help.” Steve reaches out, tugs Dustin close. Dustin presses his face into Steve’s shoulder and mutters something against it that Steve doesn’t quite catch. Steve pulls back enough to look down at him, but not enough to let him go.

“What was that?”

“I said, do you want me to skip Hellfire tomorrow? I will. I’m on your side, Steve.” Steve marvels at him. How did he find this kid? How did he get so lucky?

“No, that’s…I don’t want you to do that, I promise.” Dustin squints up at him, skeptical, but Steve gives him a reassuring smile and ruffles his hair. “I promise.”

“If you say so,” Dustin says.

Steve finally lets him go. He glances around at his empty house and back to Dustin, who’s clearly still upset. Part of him wants to go back to bed. Forget about his parents, forget about Eddie. But a bigger part of him wants to say fuck all the angst and watch some space teddy bears with his friend.

“You wanna stay over tonight?” he asks. “I could use the company. We can watch Star Wars.”

Dustin’s face lights up and he places a hand on Steve’s shoulder, clutching the other one dramatically to his chest. “Steve. I would be honored.”

______________________________________________

Next up: A confrontation at Hellfire! Sorry I didn't tag anyone, the tag list just got way too overwhelming. Thank you for reading! Reblogs appreciated!

The “That’s immoral you shouldn’t write that, we need to get that taken down” discourse on tiktok right now is PISSING ME OFFF

Wdym you want censorship for a literal ARCHIVE are you fucking stupid

Ao3 was literally founded to preserve works that were largely getting taken down due to censorship

Censorship is the opposite of what Archive of Our Own stands for

The TAGS and WARNINGS are there for a REASON. Use them and stop complaining

The universal rule—don’t like, don’t read

It’s THAT simple

sometimes you need dialogue tags and don't want to use the same four

For a few weeks, Claudia thinks that she’s collecting her son from the hospital after he’s visited Max Mayfield.

Then she finds out that’s only partly the truth.

Usually Dustin’s already waiting in the parking lot for her, Steve by his side. They chat, Steve insisting that he could drive Dustin home, it’s no trouble, and Claudia thanks him for the offer, kindly refuses; the poor boy looks run ragged these days.

One day neither of them are there, so she heads inside. There’s still a long line at reception, the aftermath of the earthquake, so she finds a nurse in a corridor, describes Dustin—my boy, about this high, curly hair (smiles like the sun, she wants to add)—and the nurse smiles, says, “Follow me, ma’am.”

She has a passing thought that this isn’t the direction to Max’s room, but reasons that she must’ve been moved. The nurse leaves her at the door before being called away.

Claudia opens the door quietly.

It’s not Max who’s in the bed.

She recognises him from the posters—his eyes first, then his long hair. He’s holding a battered copy of The Hobbit, the spine broken, and he’s reading so softly that she can’t quite make out the words.

And there, lying so peacefully against Eddie Munson’s shoulder, is Dustin. He’s fast asleep.

Eddie’s got an arm around him, and he’s slowly running his fingers through Dustin’s hair the way she used to when he was little, to help him drift off.

He looks up from his book at the sound of her entering the room, and his face goes as white as the bedsheets.

She takes one step forward.

Eddie inhales, breath stuttering, and it’s a fragile, heartbreaking sound.

Dustin stirs. “Hmm? Wha’s wrong?” He lifts his head up from Eddie’s shoulder, and his eyes meet Claudia’s, and he’s suddenly wide awake, scrabbling upright. “Mom.”

Eddie’s mouth keeps moving, like he’s desperately searching for words. “I-I’m not—” His breathing catches again, eyes wide; Claudia realises, with a heavy heart, that he’s deeply afraid of her. “It’s just a stupid board game, I swear.”

“Mom,” Dustin says again. Pleading.

And of course, Claudia never once believed the frenzied cries about Satanic rituals. Still, throughout that awful Spring Break, knowing that her son was lying to her, all she could think was that she was once a teenager, too—remembered how easy it could be to get caught up in something scary, something beyond your control.

She looks into Eddie Munson’s eyes, and knows deep in her bones that she has nothing to fear from him.

She beckons Dustin over, hands him the car keys.

“There’s a pillow on your seat, hon,” she says softly, because there’s a sleepy haze returning to his eyes despite his obvious concern for Eddie.

Dustin blinks, so unsure.

She smiles reassuringly. It’s okay. I promise.

“Okay,” Dustin says slowly, and he looks back at Eddie, raising his eyebrows like he wants to convince him of something. “See you tomorrow, Eddie.”

Eddie nods, but doesn’t speak.

He lifts his hand in a weak wave as Dustin leaves. It’s shaking. Claudia sits down by the bed. Puts her hand in his.

Eddie stares at her.

“I’m so sorry,” she says. “I’m so sorry for what we did to you.”

Eddie shakes his head, like he can’t believe what he’s hearing. “You didn’t—” He clears his throat. “It wasn’t you.”

Claudia shakes her head, too, slowly—prays that he can really hear this. “No, no, please. Listen to me. I’m so sorry.”

It would be an easy thing to say, that the town of Hawkins wronged Eddie Munson. But that would make it sound so impersonal: like it was inevitable, just one of these tragic things that happened, nothing to be done about it. Like earthquakes.

But that wasn’t true. People were behind this, and Claudia knows that they are all the town, every single one of them. And what did it say about them, that the fear and mistrust and cruelty spread like wildfire? That not one adult in the town hall stood up, begged people to stop, to think again?

“Th-thank you,” Eddie says. It sounds so uncertain, almost like a question.

Claudia squeezes his hand. “You were with Dustin, weren’t you?” she asks. “When the earthquake…”

His hand is shaking again.

“Yes,” he whispers. “I-I’m sorry, I—” He swallows. “I didn’t want a-anything to happen to him.”

“Oh, honey.” She reaches out cautiously, and when he doesn’t freeze up, she cups his cheek; her heart breaks at the rough indent of a scar beneath her palm. “You’re not God.”

Eddie reaches up, pressing her hand further against his cheek. He’s crying.

Claudia wipes his tears away as much as she can. She keeps up a steady murmur: “Shh, shh. I know you kept him as safe as you could. I know, I know. Shh.”

When he starts to calm, she thanks him again, but for something lighter.

“Dusty… he was so nervous, starting high school. But his first day, when I picked him up, all he could talk about was getting invited to have lunch with… well, a club.” Claudia smiles. “Oh, he was talking a mile a minute, I could hardly keep up. But I… oh, Eddie, I understand now. That was you.”

Eddie grins back. His cheeks are still wet.

“I didn’t do much,” he says. “You’ve…” For a moment, his eyes fill up again, but they look like happy tears. “You’ve got some kid, Mrs Henderson. He’s—he’s a real gem.”

She laughs. “Oh, I know.”

It’s one of the many things she loves about Dustin: that he’s always been so unashamedly, so joyously himself.

And Eddie had clearly seen that in him, had taken him in and nurtured everything that made him so.

The door abruptly slams open.

Steve’s in the doorway; he must’ve been running, is still gasping for breath as he says, panicked, “Claudia, I can—”

“Steve,” Eddie says softly, and that’s all.

But it’s clearly enough, because Steve’s shoulders drop in relief, and then he’s shutting the door, coming to Eddie’s bedside like he belongs there, and Eddie’s smiling at him, so tenderly…

And oh, she was young, once. She knows what she’s looking at.

Of course, she doesn’t mention it, can still sense some residual anxiety radiating from them.

Instead she looks around the room, spots a pile of laundry in the corner. It’s been stuffed into a bag; she recognises that as belonging to Steve, but there’s some shirts in there that are definitely Eddie’s, entwined with Steve’s things.

She stands, but before she can even pick up the bag, it seems like Steve’s read her mind, because he’s stepping forward, stopping her with a touch to her forearm.

“Oh, you don’t have to—I’m taking care of it, Claudia.”

She pats his cheek, lingers there until he smiles. “I know, sweetheart. But… would you let me? It’s the least I can do.”

Eddie reaches up from the bed, squeezes Steve’s elbow. Steve sighs, briefly leaning into him.

“Okay,” he says. “That’s… thank you.”

“As long as you do one thing for me.”

“Of course,” Steve says immediately. “Anything.”

Claudia brings out a notepad and pen from her bag. “Write me a list? Anything you’d like, I’ll be shopping anyway.” She looks Steve in the eyes, adds firmly but with a smile, “It’s no trouble.”

Steve takes the notepad, twirls the pen hesitantly.

“Anything you’d like,” Claudia repeats. She glances at Eddie, says, “You know, if you want a different shampoo than what they have here, things like that, or—”

“Oh, uh, it’s okay,” Eddie says quickly. “Whatever’s on sale is—”

“I know, honey,” Claudia says patiently, “but what would you actually like?”

The last extended hospital stay she’d had was fifteen years ago; Dustin had been a preemie, and one of the few things that kept her calm was the familiar: scents, food, people…

Steve chuckles. “I’ve got it.” He writes on the notepad, and Eddie must be able to read it, because he suddenly turns a little pink.

“How did you know that?”

Steve shrugs, smiles. “I notice things.” He writes down just a couple more things, then hands the list back. “Thank you so much, Claudia.”

“Any time, sweetie, I mean it.” She hugs Steve goodbye, then reaches one last time for Eddie’s hand on the bedspread. “It was lovely to meet you, Eddie. Hope you can go home soon.”

“Yeah, me—me too. Thank you, Mrs Hend—” Steve squeezes Eddie’s shoulder, and Eddie stops. Smiles. “Thank you, Claudia.”

She looks back once to shut the door behind her. Steve’s pulling up a chair, as close as he can get, and as the door closes, she hears him tut softly, gently swiping at the remaining trail of tears on Eddie’s face: “Hey, what—?”

They look like they belong together. Dustin’s boys.

Dustin’s asleep in the car, pillow pressed against the window. Claudia puts the bag of laundry in the trunk before quietly slipping into her seat.

Dustin wakes anyway as they drive out of the parking lot. “Eddie… okay?”

“He is, honey. Steve’s with him.”

“Mm… good.” There’s a pause, and Claudia thinks he’s fallen asleep again, but then he says, tentative, “Mom?”

“Yes, Dusty?”

“If I tell you something… d’you promise to keep it private?”

“As long as it’s not hurting anyone.”

“It’s not,” Dustin says firmly. “Um. Steve and Eddie, I think… I think they’re…”

Claudia smiles, nods encouragingly. “Oh, that’s lovely.”

Dustin hums in agreement. “They’ve not told me. Did I… do something wrong?”

“No, baby. You just keep doing what you’re doing.” Claudia feels a lump in her throat. “You’re a good friend.”

Dustin makes an uncertain noise.

“You are, baby. They love you very much, you know that, right?”

“Yeah.” Dustin sighs. “I know.” His eyes are closing.

“Sorry, baby, just before you sleep—are there any candies Steve and Eddie like?”

Dustin nods. “Eddie likes anything sweet. An’ Steve…” He yawns. “Anything w’peanut butter.”

“Great. Thank you, honey.”

Dustin’s already asleep.

Claudia knows that even with what she’s learned today, she still only has half a story, if that. That there’s something more to Dustin’s exhaustion, to just how Eddie ended up in a hospital bed.

Today, she’ll do all she can. It’s not a lot, but it’s something. Laundry and shopping, reading the brand of shampoo Steve wrote with a careful eye. She’ll fill her cart up with treats, things that won’t solve anything; they might make staying in that hospital room just a little easier, though. Make it feel a little warmer, a little more like home.

But first, she’ll take her boy home; she’ll park the car as close to the front door as she can get, and when he doesn’t stir, she’ll run a hand through his hair, gently put him to bed.

rubbing my penis

staying close w people long distance really is about the mundane stuff. i get texts like "made quesadillas" "spilled mop water all over the floor :(" "lady on the bus has not one not two but three tiny dogs in her purse" andits like wow. i love you more than words can express

i found a baby picture of my cat please please look at him i'm begging you