My Biggest Tip For Fanfic Writers Is This: If You Get A Character's Mannerisms And Speech Pattern Down,

Yep 👍

Have you ever read so much fanfiction and consumed so much fanart that you genuinely forgot what canon is?

I'm trying to prove a point to my brain: Reblog if you think fanfiction does not need sex to be good.

There is a trend I’ve noticed that smut fics tend to be much more popular than anything else and honestly I just want to have something to look at to remind myself and that writing doesn’t have to have sex to be worth putting out into the community.

Holy shit this got angsty fast.

AIDS crisis, it’s ambiguous if Steve has it or not but no main characters are dead. Mention of funerals.

Steve doesn’t forget to tell Robin he’s queer. He just can’t find the right time to interject that he’s been driving down to Indianapolis to go to gay bars and get laid since 1984.

Steve means well, as even drugged up on the bathroom floor, he was unwilling to expose Robin to his type of raunchy queer indulgences.

When Eddie shows up, Steve stares at the Hanky and wonders if he was just copying other metalheads or flagging in Hawkins. He settles on Eddie doing it on accident as a fashion choice and moves on.

Robin, on the other hand, asks if the rumors of Eddie’s queerness are true and Eddie confirms it after Robin makes it incredibly clear that she is completely safe and a lesbian.

Robin and Eddie become best friends, moaning about their crushes on straight people. Eventually they decide to go to Indianapolis and find a gay bar. Steve is out of town for the week so it’s perfect timing.

Little do they know, they roll up to Steve’s cruising spot, and Steve has his little navy hanky tucked into his back right pocket. He’s grinding up on some guy when they arrive and neither of them notice each other. Steve’s too busy having a guy lick up the side of his neck and Robin and Eddie are busy looking timid as fuck near the entrance.

Robin and Eddie don’t notice Steve until the bartender is yelling “put y’a tits away ‘evie, if you wanna fuck, do it somewhere I don’t have to see!”

Their eyes jolt to the direction the bartender is yelling and there’s Steve, the guy behind him had pushed Steve’s shirt up to his collarbones and was currently brushing over his nipples. Steve rolls his eyes at the bartender, straightening up and letting his shirt fall back over his body. It was still obvious that his hook-up’s hands hadn’t moved.

Eddie chokes and Steve’s eyes whip over to them. He pushes the guy’s hands off his chest, whispering something quietly to him before sauntering towards Eddie and Robin.

“Hey.” Steve says sheepishly.

“Steve, what the fuck? Why didn’t you tell me?” Robin inquires in a whiny tone.

Steve rolls his eyes again, tangling his thumbs in his belt loops.

“There wasn’t exactly a good time where I could tell you I come down here to get the daylights fucked out of me.” Steve replies nonchalantly as if telling Robin the weather.

Robin just makes a series of unintelligible and unholy noises of frustration at this.

“Oh and unless you plan on hitting someone while having sex with them, I’d remove the hanky as you’re probably not actually a sadist.” Steve states plainly, gesturing at Eddie’s pants where the hanky swings from his back pocket.

Eddie hurriedly unfastens the hanky and tucks it fully into his pocket to hide it.

“So what are you two here for? Fun or a hook-up? If you’re looking for a hookup I could pair you guys off with some of my acquaintances.” Robin looks mildly horrified by Steve’s offer, while Eddie looks repulsed. 

“So, not a hookup?” Steve inquires.

“Oh my god, Steve shut up!” Robin squeals.

“Tiffany over there has a mouth like heaven, as I’ve been told by her numerous trysts, Still not interested Robin?” Steve asks, gesturing vaguely to a perfectly coiffed woman with red tinted hair and sun-kissed skin.

Robin got distracted for a second when Tiffany looked at her and winked.

“We just wanted to check the place out, maybe make some conversation.” Robin justified.

“Fuck! I should probably stay with you then. Jack will be disappointed.” Steve says with a pout. “Can’t exactly ditch my friends to get laid.” He grumbles.

Steve waves at the bartender, “Paul, can you send Jack a Long Island, as an apology from me?”

“ ‘Course”

“Steve you don’t-“ Eddie is quickly interrupted.

“Unless you’re planning on fucking me, it’s probably not happening tonight.” Steve said in a blasé tone.“Anyway, maybe go to Paul if you want the whole papa gay spiel. Condoms, gay plauge, and how not to get murdered. Specifically important for you Eddie because men are a lot more likely to try to kill you.” Steve laughs self deprecatingly with an odd tilt to his barking laughter.

“Steve why are you acting like this?” Robin questions sharply.

“The plague is killing the gays, might as well party up while we’re still alive.” Steve pauses, remembering something, his smile slips slightly just for a moment. “There’s a funeral I’m attending tomorrow. So party tonight, party tomorrow to remind us all we’re still alive, visit the ward before going back to Hawkins.” Steve says it with a smile, his eyes shining like he’s high on something and not all quite there.

Robin could suddenly see why Steve was acting like this, it slotted perfectly into her picture of Steve. Steve the monster killer, Steve the human shield, the Steve who tempts death on a yearly basis.

No matter where he went, Steve was on the front lines, getting shot. But now it was like he was dancing in no man’s land, pirouetting around the death and destruction like it was his damn home.

Robin felt a little mad that Steve would seemingly never be able to escape it, by nature of who he was.

Eddie on the other hand, was shocked. His time in a small town had protected him from this. Getting whiskey drunk in the trenches before disease inevitably claims you. Being gay seemed suddenly too large for him, made him want to scurry back into his closet and hide.

But, God, Steve could die without ever knowing how Eddie felt.

“Steve, I think we should leave.” Eddie said firmly, Steve gave him a bewildered look.

“Why?” Eddie responded by tugging the hankey out of Steve’s pocket and hiding it in his jacket, before beginning to drag Steve out of the bar.

“I have to pay my tab, asshole!” Steve tugs back, quickly grabbing his wallet and throwing 30 dollars in the counter before Eddie resumed tugging him out of the bar.

They were hit with cool spring air when they emerged, Eddie taking little time to drag Steve into the alley and push him up against the wall.

Eddie was shaking with rage, but his eyes were full of tears.

“You can’t act like this!” He yells.

“Chill Eddie.”

“You’re not allowed to kill yourself.” Eddie whimpers out.

“I know how the plague spreads, I’m safe, always make the guy wear a condom. Why, you wanna fucking watch to check?”

“But what if one pops, what if you die before..-” Eddie starts shaking harder.

“Before what Eddie?” Steve interrupts, anger lacing his voice.

“BEFORE I CAN TELL YOU IM IN LOVE WITH YOU!” Eddie shouts, tears winding paths down his cheeks.

Steve pauses, anger and tension melting off his frame. He blinks a few times, stunned. Eddie on the other hand is curling into Steve and sobbing, body shaking like a leaf.

Steve curls around Eddie, taking him securely into his arms.

“Oh I’m so sorry.” Steve says in a hushed tone.

“I d’nt wan’ you to d’e!” Eddie struggles out.

Steve looks up and finds Robin and Paul staring at them. Paul nods at him before going back inside.

“Eddie, I’ll get tested and stop coming here to hook up, I still want to see my friends though.”

Eddie nods tearfully at the compromise.

Steve pulls Eddie’s head up and gives him a chaste kiss on the lips.

“It’ll all be okay.”

fucking hate it when the stuff everybody says "actually works" does actually work.

hate exercising and realizing i've let go of a lot of anxiety and anger because i've overturned my fight-or-flight response.

hate eating right and eating enough and eating 3 times a day and realizing i'm less anxious and i have more energy

hate journaling in my stupid notebook with my stupid bic ballpoint and realizing that i've actually started healing about something once i'm able to externalize it

hate forgiving myself hate complimenting myself more often hate treating myself with kindness hate taking a gratitude inventory hate having patience hate talking to myself gently

hate turning my little face up to the sun and taking deep breaths and looking at nature and grounding myself and realizing that i feel less burdened and more hopeful, more actually-here, that i am able to see the good sides of myself more clearly, that i am able to see not only how far i have to grow - but also how much growth i have already done & how much of my life i truly fill with light and laughter and love

horrible horrible horrible. hate it but i'm gonna do it tho

Steve, on Russian drugs: you know, you legally have to tell me if you’re a cop.

Robin, also on drugs: Yeah, that’s true. It’s the law.

Hopper:

Hopper:

Jealousy Looks Different On You

[Part One] ✨ [You Are Here] ✨ [Part Three]

Steve can be a jealous man. He can be.

Just not in the same way that Eddie seems to thrive on it. Steve doesn't have a right to jealousy outside a relationship, so even if he feels jealous, he'll never act on it.

He thought it was just one of the many ways Eddie and he were incompatible romantically.

It was the same song and dance when they'd go out. Eddie would drag someone onto the dance floor and spend most of the dance making eyes at Steve until his catch of the night got jealous enough to pull Eddie out of eyesight.

Steve is used to that. That's the routine.

Except.

Well, except Eddie's broken the routine now, hasn't he?

Flipped the entire script by saying the things Steve has wanted to hear for years. I wouldn’t have rejected you and Jesus, Steve, you’re the only one I’ve really wanted.

Steve knows Eddie well enough to know that Eddie believes he's telling the truth or believes he really does want what he's saying to be the truth.

And now, sitting in silence in the back of a taxi that Eddie's gotten them, Steve can't bring himself to hope about it. Eddie's not a liar, as far as Steve knows, but that doesn't mean he actually wants Steve. Not for real. Not in the long run.

Steve can't give Eddie all the things Eddie seems to enjoy most. He's heard enough about Eddie's sex life to know they aren't super compatible in that department. And as far as he knows, Eddie's never even had a relationship. Just one-night stands and friends with benefits situations, which, y'know, Steve's not judging him about because Steve had all that once, too.

And maybe it's shitty of him to think but because Eddie's never been in a long-term monogamous relationship, Steve's not sure that one between them will work.

Okay. It's a lot shitty for him to think.

There's no real basis for Steve to think this other than that everything Steve wants out of a relationship, Eddie's shown him he wants the exact opposite.

Maybe Steve's just thinking shitty thoughts because it's easier than hoping that this might work.

The ride to the apartment is awkward only for Steve. They can't exactly talk about liking each other romantically in the back of a taxi where a stranger can clearly hear them, so they don't. Instead, Eddie chats up the cabbie about everything and anything that comes to his mind and Steve sits with just his thoughts.

Which are not being kind.

God, he's kind of a shitty person, isn't he?

Steve lets them both into the apartment and it feels different now. It's not like Eddie's never been in Steve's apartment. Hell, he's been sleeping in his old room for this whole 'break from the LA stress' he's taken. Has been here three days already, so this isn't even the first time this week that Steve's let them both into the apartment.

It's just different now that Eddie knows. Steve's been living his life with the assumption that Eddie knew but now he knows and everything is different.

"You, uh, want a beer?" Steve asks as he toes off his shoes, stalling because he doesn't know how to start this conversation. Isn't even sure he wants to because having this conversation means there is no going back. He won't be able to unsay these things, Eddie won't be able to unhear them. It'll be out there. All his hurt and love and fear and hope.

"Steve," is all Eddie says, in a tone that says 'we need to talk'.

So, Steve swallows thickly, nods, and heads for the living room. It's so stupid but he suddenly feels exposed, so he picks up a throw pillow from the couch before he plops onto it. He turns completely sideways, back to the armrest of the couch and legs crossed, pillow in his lap to act as a barrier of some sort. Something to feel less exposed.

Eddie takes longer to join him because, unlike Steve, he'd gotten completely done up for the bar and that includes full lace up combat boots that he can't easily slip out of.

Eddie finally joins him in the living room, pausing when he sees Steve before he moves to sit on the couch, one leg folded under him and the other on the floor. He leaves a respectable foot of distance between them and Steve's not sure if he's disappointed by that or not.

There is a tense silence that falls on them, neither brave enough to really begin the conversation that could be the end of everything.

"Steve, I- I don't even know where to start, man," Eddie finally says, running a hand through his hair.

"Me either," Steve says, looking down and picking at the pillow. "You were the one who said we needed to talk."

"Because we do?" Eddie sounds confused. "I, fuck man, I basically accused you of being in love with me and you confirmed it. We gotta talk about that."

Steve frowns because he doesn't agree. They don't have to talk about it. As far as Steve was concerned, they've been successfully not talking about it for years. Nothing has really changed from Steve's perspective. "What's there to talk about?"

"That you love me! And that I was, am, in love with you, too! That feels like a big deal!" Eddie cries, voice not loud enough to bother the neighbors yet but he can easily get that way. "You- why don't you seem as happy about this as I am?"

"Because I'm not," Steve says, stern and biting as he finally looks up from the pillow. "How am I supposed to be happy about this? This is going to change everything between us. Everything! And I've been- I've made peace with how this wasn't- with how things were between us."

Eddie stares back at him, eyes wide and mouth agape in his shock. It takes him a moment to recover. "I don't... understand. Why, why aren't you happy? Of course this will change things between us, but you make it sound like it'll be for the worse? I thought-"

"What? You thought you'd tell me you love me too and I'd jump into your arms?"

"Well, kinda," Eddie starts, but Steve doesn't want to hear it.

"I can't! Eddie, I can't. I'm not- I-I get that you, that you've just realized I loved you, but I've been living with the assumption that you already knew. I thought you knew for years. And now you're sitting here, telling me that you've felt the same. What, this whole time?"

"Yes! For longer, probably!" Eddie argues back, anger and hurt mixing on his face. "I've never known you to not go after the person you want, so why did you say anything sooner?"

"Why didn't you!?" Steve shouts, feeling the heat of tears in his eyes. He throws the pillow at Eddie and jumps from the couch to pace the living room. "We lived together for years! And I watched as you brought home guy after guy after guy. I listened as you waxed poetry about the perfect man for you; a fellow metalhead who would want to go to concerts with you, someone who'd play DnD with you and enjoyed your other nerd things, and-and-and," Steve stutters over the word, fighting back making a sobbing sound because it's one thing to let Eddie see his tears; it's an entirely different thing to let him hear the whole sob-fest Steve's fight back. "And a laundry list of all the kinks they have to b-be into so you don't get bored. I- God, you'd laid out your incredibly long list of standards that I didn't fit before I'd even realized I liked men. That I liked you! Why would I even try when I already knew I'd never measure up?"

He's pacing still. Movement helps him push the urge to cry down and makes the tears dry up. It takes him a while to realize that there's been no answer from Eddie. So, Steve finally gets his emotions under control and turns to look at the couch, to see Eddie's response.

He's not expecting to see tears falling down Eddie's own cheeks and wearing a face of heartbreak and regret.

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.

This is gold.

I would love to read more about it.

Maybe, I can write myself more. If I am allowed I can share it…

Steve, who is born into a long line of shifters, but unlike the magnificent creatures his parents and grandparents before him became when they turned, he turns into an ordinary house cat.

Steve, who is an embarrassment to the Harrington name amongst the secretive society of shifters and so is essentially abandoned in Hawkins to fend for himself.

Steve, who is deeply ashamed that his shifting animal is a fucking cat until he meets a Demogorgon and then suddenly, being a cat - aka, the perfect bear trap bait - is the best animal he could have asked Magick to become.

Steve, who quickly becomes the Party's self-appointed emotional support person (cough cough, cat) and makes sure that he checks on his kids and is there to provide snuggles when needed.

Steve, who is really nervous about his kids starting high school - especially El and Will - and who sneaks his way into the school when he's not working and hides out in the drama room.

Steve, who is caught off guard when he bumps into Eddie Munson in his cat form, and then keeps bumping into Eddie Munson in his cat form, and pretty soon he can't keep pretending like it's not intentional but he likes listening to the guy when they're both hiding out in the drama room, and it doesn't hurt that he has excellent hands that give excellent tummy rubs -

Steve, who is present at the kids' first Hellfire Club meeting, and who is caught off guard by the disdain in Eddie Munson's voice when he talks about "King Steve."

Steve, who hops onto the game table, makes eye contact with Eddie Munson, and shoves his DM screen onto the floor with a loud crash.

Steve, who spends the rest of that session (and the next) on Jeff's lap, because Jeff's tummy rubs are pretty damn good and Jeff has only ever had nice things to say about Steve Harrington. (Take that, Eddie.)

(Eddie, who pouts the entire time and shows up at their third session with some catnip toys and an apology, even though he really doesn't understand why he has to apologize to this cat about Steve Harrington or why his new sheepies think this whole thing is hilarious.)

Rabbit Hole

God, never Google when Season 5 of Stranger Things is coming out. I just wanted the release date, clicked on a link, then another… and suddenly there was fan art… and now I’m on page seven of AO3, deep in Steve/Eddie. Have you seen how long their fics are? What even is this? I have never seen a fandom so collectively committed to the idea that writing anything under 10k words is for the weak.

God, now I desperately want to write something for them, but I know if my fic is under the unspoken yet sacred threshold, I’ll be exiled from the fandom. God.

Bless this fandom. Seriously. You guys are amazing.

I need to see Steve at his breaking point, kneeling in absolute defeat. Whimpering, crying, sobbing with a sword under his chin forcing him to look up that man who is now nothing but a stranger.

But, once he was a familiar and friendly face around the castle. Often running around with the outcasts and playing music in the town square. Telling stories of great heroic adventurers to the children that flocked around him to listen. A tall but scrawny thing with a mouth that knew not when to bite its tongue.

Steven makes a pathetic image for a prince. His skin is stained with tears, grime, and blood. Blood from his knights. Brothers in arms that he’d known since he was a mere child.

He’s nothing now, has nothing.

A fallen prince awaiting death.

Edward has his dark tresses tied at the nape of his neck. His eyes are dark as night, focused and fierce in his gaze. His chest heaves and exhaustion is evident, but he stands proud.

Vengeful.

Such a far cry from the once cowardly and impish man that Steven had known him to be.

Even with the sting of betrayal, the broken bond among him and children, adolescents now, that he had come to care for… he understands why someone would follow him.

He has the stance of a leader and the final unwavering judgement of a king.

Humilated, he thinks of his people, the children (his children), and even the servants that had joined the revolt against the crown. He wishes them a better life, a kinder one than he and his parents had given them under their family rule.

Steven trusts… he trusts in his people’s judgment, despite it all, and their faith in their soon-to-be King Edward.

Accepting the fate of their decision, his cries quiet but he makes no move to wipe the mess he’s made of himself.

Steve raises his chin just a bit higher and tries to steady his breath. Leans his head against the sword that’s at the side of his neck now, a swing away from finality, and looks up at the people’s king.

“Whatever kind of king you choose to be,” his mouth is parched and heavy with the taste of ash, “be a loving one.”

His closes his eyes, and waits.

“Then, my first act as King will be that of good faith to the people. Prince Steven… I show you mercy.”