The Only Adhd Tips That Actually Work:

Writers should NOT feel guilty about:

Skipping a day of writing.

Not having a perfect first draft.

Partaking in sinister, arcane rituals for inspiration.

Working at their own pace.

Enlisting demons and/or helpful spirits to aid them with editing.

AU where after a fight with his dad, Steve’s entire life implodes when he’s told that Hopper is his real father.

This just wrecks Steve. He knows that his dad is disappointed in him and that he has to work harder to make him proud, but to find out that it was impossible? That the reason it felt like his dad hated him was because he did? And - and Hopper hates him too?

It never occurs to Steve that maybe Hopper didn’t know. All he can think about is how easy it was for Hopper to adopt El, so it’s not that he didn’t want kids. He just didn’t want Steve in his life.

He doesn’t tell anyone about it for a long time - not even Robin - and then one day blurts it out. To Callahan.

Callahan says, “You know, Hopper is like a father-figure to me so-“

“Hopper is my father.”

And then Steve just breaks down in tears and Callahan thinks to himself that there was probably a better way to start off telling this kid to stop trespassing.

I don’t know if anyone has ever done this before but, here ya go… The Different Types of Fanfiction! 

I probably left a few out, but these are the most common, compared to their base fiction’s canon plot. Enjoy! XD

Now I have lost the smile too 😭😭😭😭😭

not even in a sexual way but i’m just craving affection because i feel like crap i just want someone to hug me for a couple of hours and tell me i’m going to be okay 

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• March 14th: Pi Day

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• April 1st: April Fools Day and Mishapocalypse Memorial Day

• April 13th: Homestuck Day

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• November 5th: Destiel Canon Day

How to write emotions

How to write emotional scenes

How to show emotions Part I

How to show emotions Part II

How to show emotions Part III

How to show emotions Part IV

How to show emotions Part V

How to show emotions Part VI

How to show emotions Part VII

How to show emotions Part VIII

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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.

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

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