In Regards Of The Trump Government Scraping All Trans Inclusion In Its Queer Information Portion Of Its

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Stranger Things (TV 2016) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson Characters: Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson Additional Tags: Piercings, Genital Piercing, Kink Discovery, Sexual Content, First Kiss, First Time, Getting Together, Idiots in Love Summary:

Steve overhears a conversation between Eddie and Robin, and then spends a few weeks trying to think of anything else.

Part One Two Three

Eddie’s laid flat on his back, it’s not particularly comfortable. He’s on a yoga mat on the grass. The sun is shining, so Eddie has his shades on and his eyes closed, but it still feels too bright. The sun feels too warm on his already itchy skin. He’s vaguely aware that his cock is probably doing it’s own version of ‘saluting the sun’ or whatever the fuck the pose is called, because his rut still isn’t done.

Eddie’s jerked off a couple of times, a little half hearted. Sometimes crossing the finish line and some times not. He’s never had a rut last this long and it’s pretty miserable. The not full nature of it is somehow making it worse; like his system is sluggishly working through years of blockers and inducers and general abuse, so it doesn’t have the energy to tip Eddie into a full, proper rut.

“This is bullshit,” he tells the sky.

Next to him, he hears Steve hum a vaguely agreeable noise, and then there’s rustling as he moves. Eddie squints over just long enough to see that Steve has bent himself into yet another highly improbable pose. He’s making a big show about how good he is at breathing.

Eddie can breath. Steve isn’t all that.

Steve’s dumb floppy hair falls forward, and Eddie just wants to give Steve a shove and watch him topple over. It’d be easy, the way he’s balancing.

Low hanging fruit, Eddie decides, and closes his eyes again.

There’s more rustling, and Steve’s just sitting there now, criss cross apple sauce, hands resting easily on his knees. Stupid yoga pants with leaves and flowers printed on them, like Steve doesn’t care what he looks like.

Yoga pants that leave absolutely nothing to the imagination.

“What are you doing?”

“Meditating.”

“Is it working?”

“Sometimes it does, sometimes it doesn’t.” Steve answers evenly.

Eddie decides to sing the green bottles on a wall song, he starts at one hundred, but looses steam at around ninety seven when he realizes Steve is showing no outwards sign of being bothered.

Eddie sighs. Flops over onto his stomach and sighs again.

“Why am I here for this?”

“Chrissy said you said you wanted to try yoga, so here we are.”

“That is not what happened,” Eddie flops back over onto his back indignantly, “she told me that she’s been doing yoga, and that she thinks I should try it. She said it might help.”

“She’s right, it might.”

“I don’t see how.”

Steve’s quiet for a second, then, “you know when someone comes to the door, and the dog barks like crazy?”

“I don’t have a dog, and no one ever comes to my-”

“Hypothetical dog. And front door.”

“What color?”

“The dog or the front door?”

Eddie tuts, “the dog. The hypothetical dog, what color is it?”

“It’s a golden retriever.”

“Okay, yeah,” Eddie waves his hand vaguely, “go on then.”

“It’s really difficult to train a dog to stop doing something; the best way is to train it to do something else instead. So, you train the dog that when there’s someone at the door, it fetches a toy or something. Reward when the dog meets you at the front door with the toy.”

“Are you actually a dog trainer? Like, I’m so insulted, why did they get me a dog trainer-?”

Steve snorts, “my point is, the dog can’t bark if it has something in it’s mouth. It takes ninety days to build a habit.”

Or seven or eight lines, Eddie thinks absently. “What, and I can’t get high because I’m too busy being bent up like a wanna’ be pretzel? Bullshit.”

“I think it’s more the frame of mind Chrissy was-”

“Got fucking high playing twister once. So, yeah, calling bullshit.”

“Yeah, makes sense. It’s rough anyway, yoga. Lots of core strength.”

“Shut the fuck up, try playing a three hour gig, you don’t even know core strength.”

“Right right, yeah. Of course.”

“Show me the, the stupid thing,” Eddie gets up, “the one with the ass in the air, I’ll show you. Can’t be that hard.”

“Sure, start by standing up straight...”

“I tried the stupid, the thing. The yoga thing.”

“Eddie that’s great! How was it!”

“I’m broken. Don’t tell Steve.”

Chrissy snorts down the line, “awww, you’re getting on okay with him then?”

“He’s got a great ass.”

“Eddie!”

“Might fuck it.”

“Oh my Jesus Christ Eddie no-!”

“I’m kidding. I’m kidding. Best behavior. Scouts honor.”

“You were never a scout.”

Eddie snorts, “no, definitely not. Bet Steve was though. Where did you even find this guy anyway? He knows how to like, do everything. He made waffles for lunch, ate like, four of ‘em. Even the fruit.”

“He got you to eat fruit? That’s it, I’ll hire him full time right now, he’s never leaving-”

“Pffft. Shut it. I’m not that bad. Besides, he’s probably got like a wife, and two point five kids and white picket fence to get back to.”

“I...actually don’t know anything personal about him really.”

Eddie hums vaguely, because that’s boring.

“He said your ruts not done, if it’s not any better in forty eight hours they want to send someone to do a blood draw.”

“Great. You know I love a nurses- hang on, wait. Is Steve reporting back to you? What else has he been telling you?”

“Not much!” Chrissy says in a bright voice that Eddie instantly knows is a lie, “and he does work for me Eddie, I mean, be reasonable. I need to know you’re okay.”

“You can ask me if I’m okay!” He takes a deep breath, feeling kind of angry and not just a little betrayed.

“I...Eddie. Your...what you tell me about yourself isn’t always...accurate. At least, it hasn’t been.”

“Oh, what so now you don’t trust me?”

“Eddie, come on-”

“No. Fuck off.” And Eddie hangs up the phone.

Eddie stews on it for a bit. Then storms through the house. He finds Steve on the couch, reading a book, “you! You fucking- you, you Judas! Get the fuck out of my house!”

Steve doesn’t even stand up off the couch, just lowers the book a bit, “I’m sorry?”

“Where the fuck do you get off, huh? What have you been telling Chrissy? Did you tell her about the other night? I bet you did you fucking snake-”

“You want to read what I wrote?”

“I- what?” Eddie deflates instantly. He was expecting Steve to put up a fight or deny it or spout some bullshit about confidentiality or something equally wank and made up.

“I do have to report back; Chrissy is my employer. This is my job.”

“But you’ll...let me read it?”

Steve shrugs, “it is about you.”

Every twenty four hour period appears to be it’s own email. All neatly laid out. It starts with if Eddie’s had a wash or not, and it turns out that Eddie is not a fan of having his personal hygiene clinically reviewed on a daily basis. It’s followed by what he’s eaten and drunk that day; or at least, what Steve’s seen him eat and drink. Not that Eddie’s been snacking much; he’s too thin right now, he can tell that by looking at himself in the mirror. It’s not a good look; it’s not the kind of skinny that would have the tabloids saying how great he looks.

It’s the kind of skinny that would have them speculating about eating disorders.

Right after that is just...notes. Clinical but...vague.

EM supported with nesting. “I have not nested.”

“No, but I changed your sheets.”

EM continues to show poor engagement with nutritional food. “Steve. I’m not eating the fucking salad.”

Steve shrugs, “you’re not eating much of anything.”

Eddie tuts.

EM continues to be disinterested in any scenting/is not showing any particularly Alpha behaviors despite continued rut. Sex drive/mating urges still appear to be low/non existent. Eddie isn’t even going to touch that one; in fact he does a solid job of pretending he didn’t even read it.

Eddie skips back a day, looking for his little nighttime misadventure. EM restless during the night. Reluctant to engage in talking therapy. Encouraged primal therapy; worked well and resolved without incident. EM exposed to positive fan feedback.

“Restless?”

Steve shrugs, “you were, weren't you?”

Eddie slides down in the office chair, “Steve, I was looking to score, I’m not some ninety year old who wouldn’t stay in bed.”

Steve shrugs again.

“Okay I guess...I mean, thanks. For covering for me.”

“Just calling it as I saw it. You didn’t actually go anywhere...I like to think you’d have come around before you made it to the gate.”

The...optimism. Faith. Trust. Whatever that Steve’s just shown is kind of...prickly and uncomfortable, “you can’t know that,” Steve shrugs, “how did you know, anyway? You got a secret spy camera or something? Door alarm?”

“No just...good instincts for this kind of thing, I guess.”

Eddie ‘harrumphs’ dismissively.

“You should call Chrissy. Apologize.”

“How do you even know-”

“Eddie,” and Steve might not be physically, like, rubbing his forehead or pinching at his nose in despair, but his tone is doing a lot of heavy lifting, “you stormed in here angry that I was spying on you. I am just doing my job, okay? You’re a smart guy, you don’t need me to point out to you how that behavior looks from the outside,”

“Meh meh meh meh looks from the outside,” Eddie mimics back in the most childish voice he can, “smart guy meh meh.”

Steve’s eyebrows twitch a tiny bit, “paranoid Eddie. Pretty classically paranoid.”

“I-oh.” Eddie stops for a second, because...well. He tries to be angry, because what the actual fuck, but the anger part has kind of already happened. Steve's watching him, not in any kind of way, not really. He’s just...prepared.

“I imagine it...like a stage,” Steve starts slowly.

“What, like I’m on stage?” Because that’s an image Eddie can get behind. He knows that feeling. The heat of the lights, the physical force of the crowd screaming. The weight of being the absolute center of the universe for literally thousands of people.

Steve moves to the couch, leaving Eddie in the office chair, “yeah, sure okay. You’re on stage, and you’re...calm. Competent. You have a plan right? You’re centered. There’s...harmony. You’ve done this a hundred times, the band backs you. You are yourself, right?”

“Okay…” Eddie says slowly, no fucking idea where Steve is going with this.

“So the crowd is...also you. Parts of you. But you have control over the crowed, right? You tell them to get their phones out for the lights, or one half of them sing and then the other half sing, right?”

Eddie does do that, it vaguely makes him think Steve has at least seen a recording of a gig, because that’s pretty accurate. He likes interacting with the crowd. Likes getting them involved and playing games like that to get them hyped. It’s the most fun part of the gig. “Sure.”

“Okay so...the audience is you, the good bits, and the bad bits. So...something unexpected happens, and maybe you get angry, or scared, or...restless,” Steve says carefully, “but they want control, so they get on the stage with you. Now you’re not in control any more. There’s too many people on the stage and not enough left in the audience, it’s chaos, right? There’s not enough of you left out there for you to...take control. The stage is loud and crowded and you can’t find you in the middle of all that, follow me?”

Eddie does. He can. He’s always had a fucking stellar imagination, and a stage crowded with fucked up versions of Eddie is really easy to picture.

“So...the first thing you learn is to recognize it’s even happening. Step one. Just that.”

Eddie rolls his eyes, “and then one to ten with The Count after, right? Shapes with Big Bird?”

“Only if you’re good,” Steve smiles at him, and Eddie feels like it’s the first genuine one he’s gotten so far.

WISHING ALL OF MY MUTUALS AND FOLLOWERS WHO CELEBRATE A VERY MERRY CHRISTMAS!!

My biggest tip for fanfic writers is this: if you get a character's mannerisms and speech pattern down, you can make them do pretty much whatever you want and it'll feel in character.

Logic: Characters, just like real people, are mallable. There is typically very little that's so truly, heinously out of character that you absolutely cannot make it work under any circumstance. In addition, most fans are also willing to accept characterization stretches if it makes the fic work. Yeah, we all know the villain and the hero wouldn't cuddle for warmth in canon. But if they did do that, how would they do it?

What counts is often not so much 'would the character do this?' and more 'if the character did do this, how would they do it?' If you get 'how' part right, your readers will probably be willing to buy the rest, because it will still feel like their favourite character. But if it doesn't feel like the character anymore, why are they even reading the fic?

Worry less about whether a character would do something, and more about how they'd sound while doing it.

Cursed or Blessed

Summary: Witches come to Hawkins from the power in the area due to everything with the Upside Down. The party gets in their way and Dustin ends up cursed to have a female body. When trying to get the curse removed, the same spell is directed at Steve, who doesn't find it such an issue.

Author's Note:

According to my Works page, this is my 500th Fic posted to AO3. I could do math to argue it cause there's some anonymous in collections and one fic that's actually a collection of others from when I started using the site, but still a brilliant milestone to have reached and I wanted to share that. Also yes, I am muddled over how to tag this fic cause of the curse shenanigans. If you wanna correct me, please do. I just had a day or two where the fics I was reading kept including a sex change curse where the person cursed hated it but was forced to conform to the gender presentations their new body made people expect of them and thought hell No, we've got trans care now, why wouldn't that get used? And then I got distracted entirely by Steve's gender euphoria when I started writing. She's cute.

~

Monsters and unethical experiments, Steve could get. He had even accepted a kid having superpowers and classing everyone from the lab she was tortured in as siblings. Magic however was taking longer to understand and he wasn’t happy about its presence at all.

The fact these so called magic users looked like Macbeth rejects wasn’t helping him believe a word they’d said either. He’d hated being forced to study that in English class.

“What tech do they have and can we steal it? Use it to fight them?” Dustin was questioning beside him, clearly also refusing to accept magic as an explanation.

“It’s magic, Dustin! There’s nothing to steal.” Mike snapped, which, given it was the fifth time the suggestion had been repeated, made sense.

~

The plan to try stealing the tech of the people claiming to be witches failed in its attempt. Dustin had been the one yelling about it, demanding to know where it was, so he was the one magic was directed at when the witches decided they’d had enough and were leaving.

He fell to the floor and half the group ran to him, while Nancy and Jonathan gave chase to the witches and Steve waited to see where he’d be most useful.

“What the hell? No, no, no, this is wrong. It’s not me. I am not comfortable!” Dustin woke up yelling from where he’d fallen during the confrontation.

“Guess we’re going dress shopping.” Mike stated, helping him up while looking him over an uncomfortable amount.

Steve tugged Dustin away from him, seeing the glower forming, “Are you fucking sick? No, he’s not happy about this and we’re not making it worse for him.”

“He can pretend he’s in fancy dress, a female NPC.” Lucas tried suggesting, only to have matching glares levelled at him.

“And you just volunteered to express order a binder and a few sets of men’s clothes in the sizes he’ll now need.”

Dustin blinked at Steve in something like awe at the words, “Genius? Thank you? That! Please, whatever you just spoke about, that. This feels so wrong.”

“But you look-” Nancy had turned back to the room but as she spoke Steve lifted his bat, clearly ready to attack her if the wrong thing was said. “Weapons down please?”

“Objectifying anyone is bad, forcing anyone to dress in a way they’re uncomfortable with is bad, especially towards Dustin who’s just been cursed. I’m taking him to mine and getting the numbers to order the stuff I mentioned.” Steve kept an arm on Dustin’s shoulder as he led them out, clearly ready to protect his brother from anyone, friends or not.

~

Tracking down the witches was relatively easy, and Steve had thought that getting the curse undone would be easy too. That was why only him, Robin and Nancy had come along to confront them now.

Looking at the gathered witches he was starting to doubt the logic in that decision but knew between the three of them, they could fight a lot of things. “Undo your curse on Dustin.”

“No. The little prick deserved it, keeping up from the power.” The central witch scoffed, glaring at him.

“I’m not asking. Remove the curse.” Steve raised his bat, knowing that behind him Nancy would be raising her gun and Robin keeping watch with golf balls in case one tried attacking before he noticed.

“No, in fact, I think you should see what it’s like.” The witch started gesturing, muttering too quiet to be heard but Steve wasn’t trying to hear anyway.

As soon as the gestures began he was attacking, his bat making contact with at least two of the witches there before it dropped and he fell soon after, the magic overtaking him.

Robin had started throwing but as he fell darted to grab the bat to keep fighting, trusting Nancy’s aim wouldn’t stray to her even as gun shots sounded behind her.

Two of the witches managed to escape through doors behind them but neither woman pursued them, hurrying instead to Steve’s side, already expecting for him to look different given the transformation Dustin had been cursed with the day before.

“The hell just-” Steve groaned, pushing himself to sit up, “Okay, that’s new.” He looked down at the breasts he now had before looking hopefully at Robin, “Does this mean we can have sleepovers at yours Rob? Can you braid my hair too?”

“Steve?” Robin asked, sounding a little confused by the reaction but nodded, “Yeah, I guess we can. Do you need clothes that’ll fit you?”

“Clothes shopping?” Steve grinned in excitement, “When I can actually try on all the skirts and dresses? Yes, we’re doing that right now!” He hurried to get up and was heading straight for the door they’d entered by.

Nancy groaned, shaking her head, “Can’t that wait until there’s not someone potentially wanting to kill us?”

Pouting at her, Steve nodded, now looking around the room they were stood in, “So are we trying to get any information on what they’re doing while we’re here then? Or just escaping in case some of them survived?”

“Look around quickly, but we know two escaped the room. I think we saw them all though so hopefully two will cause a lot less trouble now.” Nancy decided.

They didn’t find much, but when they left Steve was carrying an old handwritten book that the witch they’d thought was the leader had been holding. He could only hope it was useful since he couldn’t make out what the words written in it were in the poor lighting.

~

Much to Steve’s frustration, they didn’t let him stop at any of the clothes shops on the way back to the Wheeler’s. Nancy insisted that they should update everyone on what had happened instead, especially since Dustin was still hoping they’d have a reversing for his curse.

Steve did at least manage to convince her to let him get changed into one of her dresses before telling everyone else what had happened.

Nancy went straight to the basement with the book they’d found, saying she’d let Dustin start looking it over while Robin helped Steve.

“What?” Mike exclaimed first when Steve entered the basement.

Everyone turned at that, staring at Steve who smiled and did a twirl for them.

Robin glared from behind him, “What what, Michael? Never seen such a gorgeous woman before?”

“You yelled at me for saying Dustin needed dresses but have turned around and forced them on Steve?” He yelled back, gesturing to her forcefully.

Steve rolled his eyes, “Hey, shithead, I chose this. It’s like the best thing to me. Dustin hates it so he gets binders and help staying who he is, cursed or not. Capiche?”

“You want to be a girl?” Erica goaded, looking her over sceptically.

Steve fluffed her skirt out, smiling a little before raising an eyebrow at her, “What’s with the judgement, Erica?”

“Yeah! My sister is awesome.” Dustin called out, looking up from the book he’d been reading since taking a moment to stare at Steve’s change.

Steve moved over to ruffle his hair, smiling at the support and the way Dustin was still claiming them as siblings, whatever gender they had. “Thanks Dustin, you think you’ll find much in that book?”

“Witch’s handwriting is terrible. I think they failed to become doctors, it’s that bad. There’s probably something, but I’ve only found gruesome spells and power tracers so far.”

“We’ll keep looking. Together we’ll get it sorted, I know.” She reassured him.

~

After they’d all eaten, and confused Karen even more than she already was by the group calling two girls she’d never met Steve and Dustin , Steve started asking about going shopping again.

Robin leant on her shoulder, patting the opposite one comfortingly, “Stevie, we don’t have time for a shopping spree. They’ll all be shut now.”

“Okay, I guess that can be for after the witches are gone, but I need clothes now, soo-” He paused thinking for a moment before grinning, “Robin!”

“Yeah?” She glared from her shoulder since there had been no need to yell when they were cuddled up together.

Steve nudged her playfully, “I have a list of clothes you’ve got to lend me. Fashion show during our sleepover tonight?”

She squinted at her, “You’ve got an agenda for the night, haven’t you?”

“Fashion show, make-up, hair, nails, face masks, and gossip. We’re going it all!” Steve ticked off the activities she wanted to do on her fingers as she spoke.

“What fun.” Robin murmured tiredly, “Can I put on a movie while you do all that?”

Steve pouted, poking at her, “Robinnnnnnnn.”

She snorted, nuzzling him, “Fine, we’ll do it. Any other girls joining us? Also can we just like fetch whatever clothes you want to borrow and do the sleepover at your house?”

“But the fun is about getting to stay at someone else’s house.” Steve didn’t protest much, even if he looked a little disgruntled at the request.

El came to sit with them before the pair could debate which home to use. “If it’s okay.” She said seriously.

“Definitely in.” Max called from where she was currently leaning against Lucas.

“Sounds hilarious. I’m in.” Erica agreed too.

Nancy looked at Steve for a moment before shaking her head, “Never been my thing. I’ll skip it.”

Robin wanted to argue, but Steve pinched her side. He was fairly sure that sleepovers had been something Nancy had done with Barb and never since so didn’t want that subject bringing up when planning a pleasant evening.

“Maybe Dustin should-” Mike started in a goading tone, but Steve clicked at him.

“Thin ice, Wheeler,” She warned.

After taking a deep breath, Mike finished carefully, “Should DM a one shot and the rest of us stay at the Byers tonight to avoid explaining what’s going on to everyone if we’re going to reverse the curse soon enough.”

“Good idea to stay in bigger groups in case the witches come back too.” Steve agreed, glancing around at the group, “Whichever house we have our sleepover in, let’s catch up at my house tomorrow to try and get a plan to take on the witches properly.”

~

Robin hadn’t seen Steve so free with her emotions before, nor so excited to be doing things that seemed pretty normal. It had made the sleepover more fun for her, to see her best friend enjoying being a girl so much, even if it was tiring too.

El, Max and Erica had all drifted off to sleep a while back, and how Steve knew when to get the face masks washed off so it didn’t happen with them on felt like one of life’s great mysteries.

They were a different mystery of Steve that Robin wanted to ask about though, and the quiet of the night seemed like a safe time to ask it. “Hey Stevie?”

“Yeah Robs?” She sounded half asleep already.

“How’d you know how to help Dustin? With binding and all that?”

Steve made a thoughtful slow noise before replying, “Wandered away from my parents the last time I got dragged on one of their trips, asked some questions that got some guys trying to direct me back concerned and learnt a lot of weird stuff. Useful stuff too.”

Robin hummed, “Including how a woman can become a man?”

“Yeah, I’d actually been trying to ask if doing this was possible. They got confused by fourteen year old me.” He remembered after thinking for a while. “Realised pretty quickly my parents would have had horrible reactions if I’d got the actual answers or acted on them.”

“What’ll you do if this is temporary?” She asked after taking in the story for a moment.

Steve stretched. “Find answers to those questions now and take you to a city where I could actually do it.” She decided.

~

The next afternoon found everyone scattered around Steve’s home. Nancy had spent the morning looking for their own sources of information on magic and was currently going through them with Jonathan and a few of the kids.

Steve and Dustin were sat closely together reading from the witches book about transformations and speculating on whether the general transformation reversal spell would work for Dustin or not. The spell used on them hadn’t been found yet but Dustin needed a pause from deciphering the handwriting.

El and Robin were sat with them. They had been taking turns to write down what Dustin managed to read so they had an easier to read copy to keep. Now they were reading through their notes and wondering if magic was similar to El’s powers as well as if they were bothered about finding out.

“Give us our spell book back!” One of the two witches still alive demanding, slamming the doors to Steve’s home open, hands primed as if they’d start cursing any minute.

Steve and Dustin glanced at each other and the girls in front of them before jumping up and over the back of the sofa to face the witches, “You came to us? That’s-” Steve paused as if thinking, “Nice. Isn’t that nice of them, Dustin?”

“Dumb too, cause now they’re reversing the curse on me.” Dustin agreed.

“Why would we do that, little girl?” The second witch sneered.

Steve and Dustin shared a smirk before stepping away from each other, revealing El, already standing with her arm outstretched.

“Because I’ll make you.” She said, flinging the pair into the wall.

The display of power shocked the witches visibly and they were quick to beg forgiveness as well as that they’d reverse the spell as long as El didn’t do anything more to them.

Everyone else came through, having heard the commotion, and Nancy quickly picked up the spell book, levelling a stern glare at the witches. “I don’t think you should have this any more. Try being decent humans for a while.”

For a moment one of the witches glared, ready to argue, but stayed silent when El moved her arm.

Dustin hugged himself as soon as the curse was undone, laughing and hurrying up to one of the spare rooms Steve had kept a change of clothes for him in. “I’m me again! Couldn’t be happier to be in this body!”

Steve stepped back when the witches attention turned on him. “I’m getting the Hawkins lab to take the blame for this and give me new papers. You’re doing nothing except leaving this town!” She stated, pointing to the door of her home.

“It’s not meant to be permanent.” One of them muttered as they headed to the door.

Robin stepped in their way, looking them over carefully. “Not meant to be, but you had to do a reversal. Do you know how long it would last if you hadn’t?”

“Never tested it. Book doesn’t specify.” was the curt response.

“Then we will and since we have the book, we’ll find a way to renew it if it fails at some point.” She opened the door for them satisfied in their ignorance.

I LOVE MY FRIENDS SO MUCH I'M JUST STUPID AND FORGET THAT FEELINGS NEED TO BE EXPRESSED IN ORDER FOR THEM TO BE FELT

@izzy2210

here you go! i did them in green and black so they'd match your blog <3

requests: open please like/reblog if you use! credit is appreciated!

One thing that has made me a much more well-adjusted person is a clip I once saw of Hank Green saying that anyone can be in amazing shape as long as being in amazing shape is one of their top three priorities.

(This is obviously a generalization that isn't true for everyone. But it is true for most people and I'm proceeding from there.)

This "top three priorities" framing has genuinely reduced my tendency toward jealousy and self-comparison a lot. Now when I feel envious of someone’s spotless, aesthetic home, I think to myself, “Having a spotless, aesthetic home is probably one of their top three priorities. It’s definitely not one of mine, so I shouldn’t expect my home to look like that.”

Or when I see an influencer with a body that takes a ton of work to maintain: “Maintaining that body is obviously one of her top three priorities, because it’s her livelihood. My livelihood is my brain, so I’m never going to prioritize my body like that.”

It also helps me to identify areas that I actually DO want to prioritize more. I realized in recent years that my envy for my friends who prioritized writing more than I did was NOT going away, so I started to prioritize writing more. (Not top three, but higher priority than it has been in the past.)

Monster Au? - Part 5

partone parttwo partthree partfour II partsix TW: Panic attacks, references to past/current child abuse, a little bit of body horror (as always), mentions of disordered eating. ---

Steve whines loud and distressed even with his Mama cooing into his hair, his sides hurt- and he wants Dad too. But Dad isn’t here- and it’s not safe. 

She’s running her fingers through his hair, he knows she’s trying to calm him into shifting down, making himself his shapeless form. He can’t he’s not supposed to be and, and everything hurts- and- 

“Shhh, come on Baby. It’s okay, just relax it’s okay. Mama’s right here.” She clicks, and Steve pressed his face harder against her stomach, tucking his legs up. Mama dragged her fingers through his hair, cooing and talking softly. 

The door cracked open, and another body joined them on the bed. Steve curled towards his Dad like he was the sun. Big hands pressed against his skin- “Hey Bubba, deep breaths.” And Steve listened, sucked in a sharp breath, hard enough to start coughing. If Steve had thought his sides had hurt before they burned now, he whined, the noise scraping across a throat that wasn’t used to making any kind of noise.  Mama crooned, and Dad just, Dad just rubbed circles against his skin, over the edges of his spine. Over the scarring over road burns on his back. Down each visible knot of his bones, the way his skin was pulled taunt over a frame that it wasn’t built for. Steve sobbed, his body wrung out, exhausted despite the hours of actual sleep he had gotten for the first time in probably years.

Everything hurt, and he just wanted it to stop. 

His ears were ringing, and his head hurt, Steve choked on a sob. A hand cupped the back of his head, curling through his hair, Dad- Steve whined, pressing into the touch, craving the soft affection, deprived and desperate. Please, please- he warbled, pressing his face further against his Mama’s stomach. 

They were talking, he could tell, not that he could hear them, or understand them even if he wanted to. Everything was supposed to be safe, and now it wasn’t- and the house was violated- and he just wanted everything to be normal. 

Steve didn’t want to be like this, didn’t want to live like this. Maybe, maybe if he was human it wouldn't hurt so much, the isolation, and lashing out. He let out a soft cry, his lungs rattling at the force of his distress. He felt like someone had shoved him against something too hot, too warm. 

Lips were pressed against his ear, and Steve wished, wished he could understand- before.

Fingers closed around the back of his neck, pressure. It was, scruffed. His mind went empty, his mouth opened soundlessly. His Mama was still running her hands through his hair, lengthening hair, curling down his neck a little more, over his face. His body falling limp under the gentle pressure of his Dad’s big hands on the back of his neck. Ears still ringing, but the comfort was pleasant and- and, and familiar.  Steve was a frantic child, anxious and nervous. He cried easily, which wasn't that un-normal for young shapeshifters, dependent on parents, and gathered pack, Cubs were normally shuffled away for years before anyone outside of a close knit group would ever see them.

It was harder for Steve when he was really small, carried a lot, scruffed when tears and panic couldn’t be quelled with words. If the body and mind were distressed enough, it would calm, a simple level of pressure around the back of his neck.

Steve cooed, the first comfort noise he’d let out in months. It soothed over the rough treatment of his throat, he cooed again, letting out a soft click, relaxing down against the bed. His fingers curling and uncurling.

His body relaxed for the first time in months, slipping shapeless and more monsterish. Steve hummed, shifting his face against the warmth of his parents and blinked sluggishly. 

Mind pleasantly quiet. It was just as easy to fall asleep as it had been last night, fuzzy around the edges, calm. Empty of anxiety. Sure Steve knows logically he was about to have several uncomfortable conversations with his parents, and the anxiety was going to come back. And Everything would be bad, because the Party- Pack, was going to be so fucking upset with him. Steve would be lucky if they even wanted anything to do with him ever again- 

But, his Dad gave his neck another gentle squeeze. 

It was fine right now, it was fine, and it would continue to be fine because his parents were here, and they’d make sure it was fine. ---

It had been three weeks since anyone had seen Steve. 

Robin had been inconsolable. Eddie wasn’t fairing much better. 

The Harrington’s where staying in town indefinitely apparently, their fancy as hell car seen around town. Eddie only really knows all of this because the Kids won’t stop bitching about how they won’t leave so they can go back to the house. No matter how many times someone tells them that they can’t go back. 

Shit, Eddie had to bodily remove Dustin from the Hopper-Byer’s house for being a dick to Hopper for no reason. Loud and angry, yelling about how they can’t just lose their spot, and why did they even leave, it was theirs. 

Eddie doesn’t think that any of the kids get that Hopper could have been murdered in that house. That they didn’t see just how not human the Harrington’s had appeared. Almost half feral and more than ready to kill for their baby.

He glances at the group of adults sitting around the small table in the kitchen. Their voices were low, but- Eddie makes eye contact with Wayne, who stares back at him for a long moment before jerking his head in the most come here motion Eddie’s seen his uncle make to this date. He’s quiet, moving in the room, at least of all the whole group in the living room goes back up in arms over something that isn’t an easy fix. 

Joyce’s mouth snaps shut the second she catches sight of him, and Eddie rolls his eyes a little, sinking down slightly to rest his arms over the back of his uncle's chair. “Yeah Pops?” Eddie stares at Hopper over the top of Wayne’s head. Wayne grunts, lifting his head slightly, just slightly- to look up at him. “How’s Harrington doin’?” There’s a tone in his voice, rough but also defiant. Hopper growls, the noise quiet, but enough that his displeasure at Wayne’s question is known. Eddie snorts softly. 

His Uncle was older than probably anyone in this town. Wayne wasn’t even a part of “The Pack” not really, and he was only here because Eddie asked him to be. Well, because Hopper wanted another opinion on what to do about the whole “Harrington Family, and House” Situation. And Murray had been very loud in his displeasure at their actions. 

The Human had yelled loud enough that the whole house had been set off. Ranting on about laws, and how they could literally face so many legal issues due to their actions against Steve. The Harrington’s had a lot of power. A lot. 

Hopper had yelled back, it ended with Murray shouting about how they didn’t even know what kind of Creature- Supernatural Steve even was. And depending on that, there would be fucking hell to pay.

They all wanted to go back into the house, the kids were just being shits about it.

Eddie twisted his head to the side, he unfocussed on the boy’s in the living room. For a moment, he was a little overwhelmed by the almost sudden silence, but latched on to what he remembered Steve’s heartbeat sounding like. It was a steady thump against his ears. 

A little fast, but given that the boy was almost always anxious- it was a good sound. Some of the tension in his shoulders he didn’t even realize was there soothed out. Eddie hadn’t given himself the chance, or even the thought of checking in on Steve. Anger burning under his skin, but now- 

He slumped forwards a bit more. “Sounds good. Better,” He ran his tongue over his teeth, pushing flat against the sharpness of his canines. Eddie works his jaw, thinking over, focusing a little more on the faint thump. “It’s better than I remember it being.” 

Which really doesn’t say anything, Eddie focused in when Steve was dying, and clearly he’s been dying this entire time. So yeah, Steve’s heart beat is incredibly strong compared to what it had been three weeks ago. “Why’d ya wanna know Pops?” Wayne for all his years, and for all he puts up with Eddie, always makes that face when Eddie mimics some of Wayne’s accent. 

Or maybe he made that face because he doesn’t want to share with the rest of the table. “I just remember the Elder Harrington Boys bein’ rather cruel pair in School. Worried about the boy s’all.” Eddie blinked at his Uncle but nodded, that made sense. Part of him curled guilt, hot, angry. 

Steve felt so outcasted, so desperate for affection- that he possibly put himself in danger by calling for his parents. Steve’s heart gives a soft thump against his ears, if he focuses enough he feels like he should be able to hear the younger boy’s laugh. Ghost over his ears, make them twitch. 

Eddie’s chest feels empty when he realizes he can’t even really remember what it sounded like. Can’t remember the last time he heard it. 

“Could mean nothing,” He shrugs, making eye contact with Hopper across the table. “I mean, he might be, fine. Or the steady heartbeat is because we aren’t stressing him out so badly he’s self isolating.” Eddie’s not bitter. Not really, he can’t be mad at Hop, this isn’t his fault, and it’s certainly not Eddie’s. Sure it’s a group collaborative effort that they apparently all banded together to accidentally try and kill Steve-

All the blame isn’t going to fall on one person, no matter what Dustin wants to think. Steve was dying. From what they have gathered, Steve’s of course some kind of Supernatural. What kind, they really don’t fucking know. He’s not a Witch, they are all far too human for that.

Something a little less human, from the sounds, to the reactions- the noise Steve made when his mother opened that door. The clicking- Steve had hidden himself away to die, like a cat does when they know it's time. And they were going to let him. Because they were too caught up in thinking Steve was human. Eddie was too angry to even think about the fact that Steve smelled so distinctly like death- and sickness. Too used to the scent clinging to him- to his skin, to his blood, to his heart. 

“I still don’t see why we can’t approach the Harrington’s.” Joyce’s voice is quiet, she’s human enough to get away with not knowing everything the rest of them do. Eddie’s kind of jealous of the Witches in their group, they aren’t as torn up about the loss of the House as the rest of them are. But he’s grinding his teeth flat every time they try and offer what they think is an easy and viable solution.

Hopper makes a grunt-like noise, “It’s not that easy Joy. The Harrington’s have every right to kill me if I even get close to the house.” Hopper takes a deep breath, “And I’d let him.” It’s there, that point. They know, they’ve failed Steve. And it seems only a handful of people really want to accept that fact. 

It took Hopper a little, he’s still rougher about it, gruff and very Chief-like about it. But Eddie thinks he gets that just Hopper realizing he’s failed Steve. 

However Eddie has to hear “Friends don’t tell Lies” one more fucking time about Steve not telling them he was supernatural. He was going to start biting people. Better yet! Maybe actually sacrifice something to a higher power. Just to the kids to shut the fuck up. Better, better yet! Eddie might just kill Mike, just because. 

They sit in silence for a long moment.

Eddie stares at his hands, curled over the back of his uncle's chair. At the adults trying to pick apart the situation. “What, what if we didn’t bother with the house right now. Sure, it would be nice to go back.” Not really, Eddie can almost still smell the ghost of the depression that coated the surface of everything the second you left the communal living areas. “But, I-” Everyone is just looking at him. “I’d rather be talking to Steve again, than go back to that house. It’s not like we, you, don’t have space.” The Byers-Hopper house was more than big enough, they didn’t need all the extra rooms of the Harrington house, they didn’t need the room, not really. Eddie taps his lips with his shortened fangs.

Murray, who was surprisingly silent, for all that Eddie knows about the human. “No one in this house is getting back into the Harrington’s Home.” His voice was dry, but strangely firm. Lacking its regular holier than thou’ tone, Eddie stared at him for a long moment. “Legally or otherwise. The Harrington brood are mean, and vicious. With or without the high paid lawyers. Digging I can do to figure out what kind of Monster I’m working with here, but there’s not enough dirt I can dig up for that Shitshow. Not if I want to get out of it with my life, and I am rather attached to my life.” 

Hopper snorts, and Joyce laughs. Both noises are a little bitter. But at this point in these people's lives, after what Eddie has seen, they are a little entitled to bitterness. His tongue is heavy, anger is coating his teeth he can’t stand it- and his gums itch. “Russians of various origins, but unknown Supernatural is the line?” Joyce’s tone was teasing, but also sharper. Eddie wouldn’t want to do anything like that either. They’d already tested the limits, especially Steve’s limits.

Murray scoffed, “Yes, because Russians are all distinctly the same, they want to kill me. Supernatural? With unknown origins, I didn’t sign up for that shit. Not outside crossing dimensions.” No one said anything for a moment, and Eddie shifted. Listening to the thump of Steve’s pulse a little more. It was a faint noise from the distance, and sure. Eddie would never be able to actually track it. Not like this. 

But it was nice to actually feel like he could still listen to it. Eddie doesn’t want to say how many nights he spent listening to it before going to bed. He works his jaw again, grinding his teeth together. Wayne shot him a look, and he paused. Right, he ducked his head, bangs falling in his face to hide behind. Eddie picked at the wood on the back of the chair, running his bitten down nails over the chipping gloss on the chair.

Wayne taps his leg, and Eddie draws his attention back up. “Buckley’s too-” His uncle works his jaw, Eddie can tell his teeth never touch. “Hysterical,” Eddie snorts, just slightly, the drawl of his voice, and the way Wayne shapes it around his teeth. “about it’all.” Eyes are on his skin, and it feels like they are trying to worm their ways into his skin. “But Eds, Steve might, might- letya around.” 

He gives a slow nod, Wayne’s not asking in a way back into the house, he’s telling Eddie this in a make sure Steve’s going to be okay when his parents leave, way. Not alone and dying without anyone knowing, way. Eddie wouldn’t even let any of these people in this house use that against him. Not against Steve, not in this way- never in any way actually. Imprinting is special. And Steve probably knows Eddie’s imprinted on him anyway. Supernatural and all, even if he’s never actually acted like he’s imprinted on Steve. 

A mistake, a mistake that Eddie desperately needs to rectify. To fix. Un-fuck up. “Imprinted.” Murray says, and Eddie hisses, low at the tone. The bald man tends to have a rather crashness, when it comes down to it. And while Eddie appreciates it, he doesn’t in this sense. “That could work.” Eddie gnashes his teeth, standing up, Wayne makes an aggressive, displeased noise. Clearly whatever Murray is implying wasn’t what his uncle was going to talk about.

Murray looks unphased, but Hopper’s tensed, and so has Joyce. The fucking Russian guy that hangs around hasn’t said a word, and he doesn’t now. He smells distinctly Wolvish too- but Eddie’s never paid him mind, he is now. Threat- threat. 

“That, could get you back in the house.” Eddie snarled, and so did Wayne. Tension was heavy, and the living room had gone silent. He could care fucking less, what the hell was wrong with this man. His teeth itched. “Like Hell-” Wayne’s tone was sharp, smoother-

“How fucking dare you.” Eddie would apologize for cutting his Uncle off later- “I know you get off on riling people up, and generally just being a fucking prick. But jacking off to this? Playing with it? I’ll rip your throat out with my teeth.” It’s not a threat, it's a promise. The older man pales, and Eddie grins, he knows he looks half feral, knows he looks like he can follow up on this request. And it’s, it’s so good. 

Maybe, maybe, the feeling of regret will show up later, mixed in with the heavy coat of guilt, and bitterness, and anger, that already coats his bones. But right now, now Eddie’s protecting something sacred. Do not touch. 

“Never, like hell. I would never do that. Using someone else. What is wrong with-” “Munson.” Hopper’s voice is sharp, low. Eddie curled his lips back further. “No ones going to ask anyone to do that.” Eddie watches the wolf cut his eyes over to Murray, who jerks his gaze away, embarrassment written in his features. Good. His teeth itch, and so does his skin- blood pooled on his tongue. Wayne was on his feet now, slower, and he tried not to think too hard about how his uncle positioned himself in front of him. 

Eddie snapped his jaw, teeth clicking together hard enough they rattled in his skull. Pain flaring across the roof of his mouth and over his jaw. Eddie hisses at Hopper, knows that the other probably thought about it, knows that they all probably have.

“You could get us back in the house?” Mike’s voice is high, loud- Eddie’s going to kill him. He snaps his head around to stare at the teenager, Hopper Growls lower- maybe he’s now realizing just what Murray set loose in his house. Wayne answers the noise sharply with his own snarl. Eddie’s old man is sharp, and protective without question.

“You could have done that this entire time, and you haven’t? What the fuck Eddie.” Baby Wheeler’s voice is accusing, angry- and Eddie isn’t dealing with this. 

Dustin is by his side, looking at him with almost the same expression, and all the kids are poised for a fight- And Eddie hates being like this, but he’s also not doing this- not like this. He spins on his heel, and pushes past the kids, shoving Mike a little harder than he needs to, as he moves past.

The doorknob is frigid under his touch, and he slams it behind him. Eddie climbs into his van and waits for Wayne to follow him out. Doesn’t remember the drive back to the Trailer, doesn’t remember any of it.

Eddie’s not sure if he wants to. All of this is just bad. IT's bad, and he's so fucking angry it's not even funny. How- how. Wayne doesn't say anything to him

--- I lied about part 5, I procrastinated literally all of my work because I didn't want to do anything for a long weekend. Nothing was done, not for anything. I also didn't post, or work on anything for ao3, shocker. I was going to have this posted like hours ago, but my laptop died in the middle of class... which was fun. This part is also not my favorite of the parts if Imma be honest. I hate Dialogue, so much- and there's so much dialogue. You know, this has like an actual title... but I'm also a Long Title enjoyer. So for now I'll just stick to Monster Au? Because it works. At least for now. If it ever goes up on ao3, which it probably will; it'll be under that title. I'd like to actually post a Steddie One-shot that stays a one-shot. *cries over 138k words* (And yes I'm going to keep pushing this link because that fic is my motherfuckin baby-) Anyway, I'm going to go see if I can get a few hours of sleep. That would be nice. I again, ask, where the hell did all of you come from???? You are all incredibly sweet. <3 (I Think this is all who asked to be tagged? I think? They also messed up halfway through making this- so I might have fucked something up possibly) @theghostinmymachine @sadcanadianwinter @failedstarsandgoldenclouds @a-huge-nerdy-nerd @bisexualdisastersworld @intergalactic-president-awesome @vampireinthesun @estrellami-1 @raysreads @knightofthieves @sassysleeplord @gezell-igg @ledleaf @haluton @h0n3y-dw @thegingerrapunzel @finalmoondragon @warrior-616 @lexyvey @thesuninyaface @whalesharksart @two-faced-biatch @plasticcrotches