Latest Posts by samsoble - Page 9

This is probably not what the first Idea really was about, however this is what i thought about direktly after reading the post.

"Eddie, maybe we should stop." Cautiously, Gareth turned to his friend.

"We can always move on at another time." Jeff put his hand on Eddie's back and handed him a glass of water, which he tried to drink in one gulp.

He shook his head vehemently. With one hand he held the glass tightly and with the other he wiped the coming tears from his eyes.

"Eddie..." "No!" he interrupted Dustin directly. "N“ His voice broke off.

"Edward Theodor Munson!" Wayne's voice filled the living room. Eddie wiped his eyes again with the back of his hand and stared at the glass. He could hear Wayne come to a stop beside him.

"We've talked about this! Your throat is still hurt." Wayne's voice was stern and he let out a deep sigh before kneeling beside his nephew. He just put a hand on the head full of brown curls and let the boy cry.

Eddie didn't even try to suppress his tears anymore and the looks from the Hellfire troop were no longer important.

"Boy, I know how important this is to you, but please think about your health. We're glad you're still here, that you're alive!" Eddie didn't dare look his uncle in the eye. "We want you to be well, and that includes you healing."

Eddie and Wayne had had this conversation a thousand times in the last two weeks. Eddie wanted to get back to normal and enjoy D&D with his friends. To have the game to himself again and not leave it to the near apocalypse. But Eddie's vocal chords were still damaged from the damage the demobats had done to his throat.

Wayne stroked Eddie's head gently.

"Kids, why don't you get me a chair from the kitchen, I'm too stiff to kneel or sit on the floor. And you boy show me what I have to narrate for you."

somebody write a fic where Eddie has to do something and Wayne needs to sub as dm last minute and knocks it outta the park because where did you think Eddie got his storytelling skills from?

This made my brain go brr, therefore it’ll make your brain go brr too if you’re following me <3

my friend just told me that there's a secret second dashboard that solely contains posts from people you've turned on post notifications for, and when i click the link in the messages it opens it within the tumblr app, so the tumblr app also has a secret second dashboard for post notification blogs, and the only way to access it is to open the link for it within the app.

i literally love tumblr

When you should work, however you are doom reading on ao3.

AND then the ao3 servers are not responding anymore, after you clicked on a new story to read.

… now I have to work sad

Your writing will always feel awkward to you, because you wrote it.

Your plot twists will always feel predictable, because you created them.

Your stories will always feel a bit boring to you, because you read them a million times.

They won't feel like that for your reader.

Funniest (fantasy) way to find out you're trans I think. Assigned male by ancient prophecy

I'm autistic and I currently feel like shit checklist

Hi there. Are you autistic? Do you currently feel like shit and don't know why? Try this checklist to see if you can Fix The Problem!

When was the last time you used the bathroom? If you answered "I don't know" or "at least 3 hours ago", go now!

Do you need a drink? Go get one if you don't have one in front of you.

When was the last time you ate? If you haven't eaten yet today, consider eating A Meal, or perhaps A Snack. Something is better than nothing, eat whatever you feel able to!

Is there something in your immediate surroundings that is bothering you? If the light is too bright, turn it off. If there is an annoying sound, make the sound stop or reduce your ability to hear it (earplugs, headphones, etc.). If your clothes are bothering you, change them.

Is your space messy? Pick one area of your room and clean it up as best you can. Clean your whole room if you have the energy!

When was the last time you did An Activity? Scrolling on social media doesn't count. Try actively doing something fun! Play a game you like, read a book, make something, or go for a walk.

When was the last time you Spoke to a Person? Consider talking to a person you like if it has been a while.

How long has it been since you did something Special Interest related? Make some time to do that today. Infodump to a friend, have a nice long research session, look at related images or gifs, make art about it, whatever works best for you!

Try stimming actively! Put on some music and dance, spin in circles, go to the park and use the swings!

If you still feel like shit after trying all of these things, you might be tired or sick. Go to bed early and get some rest. Hopefully you will feel better tomorrow!

Hope that helps :)

It's important to me that everyone understands that if you've got an autistic friend who periodically sends you pictures/videos/whatever of your Thing, because they know you're into it... They love you.

Now don't get me wrong, It may not necessarily be romantic love, they might not want to run off to a little farm in Montana where you'll be married forever and raise little sheeps...

But they definitely love you. And they're so happy when they spot a post about X and go "ooh, my friend likes X! I'll send it to them!".

Because they love you and want you to be happy.

served my duty as an autistic artist and made a bunch of autism creature reaction images

Yea it is a lot scarier, however maybe this is something I should try to have in my toolbox

I thought it would be an hour of listening to screaming and looking at pictures of draculas, but it was so much for frightening than fathomed

callout post for "work"

"work" has done many terrible things such as

make my friend go there

make my wife go there

please spread this around we can't let "work" keep getting away with this

executive dysfunction is literally like. ive had a random dollar on my floor for two weeks and i dont know when ill fit it in my schedule to pick it up. people dont realize this

My average writing experience:

"Alright I think I'm almost done actually-"

*Google doc grows second health bar and a choir starts singing in latin*

Why does my Brain tells me 80% of the time, that the people I want to befriend hate/dislike me, because I am to much or to awkward…

Why do social interactions always be this complicated and tiring?

Why can’t I just understand humans?

Why do I have to think so much?

LOST WIP - Whump Steve Harringotn

CW: Suicidal thoughts

Steve Harrington was tired.

Tired from the shitty day he'd been having.

Tired of all the sleepless nights he'd been having over the last few years.

But worst of all, he was tired of his existence.

There were days when he didn't want to go on, when he just wanted to stop existing.

It wasn't going to get any better, if anything it was only going to get worse.

Steve was very sure of that.

He had thought about just ending it all, about what would happen if he simply sank into his pool and never emerged again.

But those were thoughts he would keep strictly to himself.

He couldn't do that to Robin and the kids.

They had all endured enough in the last few years, he shouldn't be a part of their trauma.

But he knew that eventually they would leave him behind. That he would become too much and then. Yes, then he could disappear, when no one needed him anymore.

Steve lived as long as his friends still needed him.

He pretended everything was fine and was there when they called for him.

It was after Starcourt that someone started to notice his behavior.

Robin couldn't stop thinking about what had happened and she thought about what had happened to Steve.

She thought about how he had always stepped right in front of her.

How he had run towards a gun.

How he had done the talking and had been the first to be "questioned".

Something that wouldn't let her go.

Had Steve done all that consciously?

Had he actively used himself as a human shield?

However, Robin stopped thinking about it.

It would never go back to normal, but she was happy that it was as close to normal as possible.

Robin had to think about it again after she had told him that she felt that not everyone would get out of here again.

She didn't know why she had to think about it afterwards, only later would she realize that his answer had never included himself. That he was always concerned that all the OTHERS survived.

But at that very moment, other problems were more pressing than the question of what was different about the interaction.

After Vecna was defeated and Eddie and Max were in the hospital, Steve was as busy as ever making sure everyone was okay.

This time she saw clearly that he was taking care of everyone else and not himself.

She wasn't the only one who saw it.

Eddie asked her if Steve was actually taking a break.

They both wished he would.

REBLOG IF YOU HAVE STRETCHMARKS

This way people can see they’re not alone. I have them and this would help me see that.

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

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

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

(But still.)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Steve and Robin.

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

"Okay, that's it--"

"Nance..."

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

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

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

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

Steve and Robin, looking ready to bolt.

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

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

Sad Steddie Scenario Part 4

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

CW: a couple of mentions of child abuse

Part One, Part Two, Part Three

____________________________

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, I’m sorry.”

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

“I’m sorry, Mom. I’m just tired.”

“From what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fucking stupid.

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

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

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

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

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

“What for?”

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

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

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

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

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

That could totally happen.

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

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

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

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

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

“They gave me a truth serum!”

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

“I told you it was allergies.”

“Do I look like an idiot?”

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

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

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

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

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

“What, when you came to pick us up?”

“Yeah.”

“What the fuck, Steve?”

“That’s what I said!”

“What did you do?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Steve.”

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

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

“What was that?”

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

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

“If you say so,” Dustin says.

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

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

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

______________________________________________

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

Soooo...what about a mentally (kinda) ill. Steve Harrington due to the abuse he has suffered from his asshole of a father (well both the parents but wtv),the fights, AND the goddamn motherfucking RUSSIANS!! And the party gets to know about some hidden secrets...

Tag me if you want it or have written it...

(I am working on it and contains

TW! :

Child Abuse

Mentioned Harrington's

Steve's trauma

Russians(🙄)

Rape

Homophobic slurs 😭

Comforting Party🤍

Etc..)

:)))))

~Serenity

Feeling some Steddie angst hours in this house 🚨🚨🚨

After they kill Vecna, things go back to normal. Well, as normal as they can be. Whatever brief moment of insanity Steve and Nance had ends about as suddenly as it began, and she can’t really meet his eyes once her hand is back in Jonathan’s.

(It’s a blessing when she leaves for Columbia, Jonathan’s beat-up car following right behind her.)

The least normal thing is probably Eddie Munson, or at least whatever Steve’s relationship is with him now. It’s - there’s just something different there, some strange warmth that he feels when he looks at Eddie. And sometimes Steve catches Eddie just looking at him and - well, it gives him that same warm feeling, and maybe that means something? Something that maybe seemed scary before but is nowhere near as scary as Eddie almost bleeding out in Steve’s arms.

He’s in the midst of talking himself up, of figuring out just what he’s going to say to Eddie, when the Munsons announce they’re heading out of town and then leave the next day. Steve’s almost paralyzed with anxiety, but he’s gotta say something, right?

Except Eddie cuts him off at the knees with a weak smile, tells him not to be a stranger, to visit him in the city with his kids and a Winnebago once he’s finally gotten that suburban dream, and then he’s gone.

And Steve doesn’t hear from him again.

To be fair, no one really hears from Eddie; just Dustin, who will chime in that they’ve chatted every once in a while, that Eddie went to LA for a bit and then Seattle and finally settled in Chicago; that he seems to be really happy, but never gives any information beyond that.

And Steve? He packs up his life and follows Robin to college, and when he accompanies her to their first gay bar and sees two metal heads kissing, something inside him snaps and the pair of them end up drunkenly crying in their tiny apartment’s bathroom. But it gets better after that, and two years after their move to Indy, Steve meets Sam.

Sam, who’s got the lightest blonde hair he’s ever seen, cut into a shaggy mullet that perfectly offsets his shiny hazel eyes. He’s got a bright smile and a pierced eyebrow and too many earrings to count and his laugh is loud and joyous and for whatever reason, he likes Steve as much as Steve likes him.

Robin, of course, is ecstatic and takes all the credit for introducing them, which is technically true seeing as she was the one to spill her drink all over Sam before Steve came to the rescue. (Although she then almost ruined everything by throwing up on both of their shoes, so, Steve only lets her gloat so much.)

Three years after that finds Steve and Robin gainfully employer, as teachers of all things, and Vickie finally succeeds in convincing Robin to move in with her, and, well, it only makes sense that Steve and Sam get their own place too because, well, Steve loves him. Loves his ripped jeans and his skateboard and the fact that he’s cheery no matter the time of day, that he wants to have a family probably even more than Steve does and didn’t blink when Steve said he wanted six kids, he only laughed and said “why stop there?” And it may not be exactly what Steve was thinking in that Winnebago all those years ago, but that’s okay, because what he has with Sam? Is way better.

Once Steve and Sam get settled, Sam insists that they have a housewarming party (because Sam makes good money at his tattooing gig, and Steve’s inheritance is nothing to sneeze at, and they’re actually able to get a house, which feels insane but also just right) and invite all of Steve’s kids, who he’s met a few times but never all at once, and Steve is so whipped he says “yes” without a second thought.

(Which he really should have had because Henderson was also living in Chicago now.)

So when Henderson wanders in with Eddie as his plus one, and Sam is nowhere in sight, Steve only gives himself a moment to freak out before walking over to greet Eddie.

“Steeevveeeee Harrington,” Eddie purrs with a toothy grin. “Good to see you man. And good to see you finally getting started on that dream of yours,” he says, slapping Steve on the shoulder. “With Sam, I hear. You two crazy kids getting started on those six kids yet?”

“Uh, not - “

“Not quite yet,” Sam cuts in from behind Steve, wrapping an arm around Steve’s waist and tucking Steve’s head under his chin. “I still want a few more years of this guy all to myself. You must be Eddie,” Sam grins, sticking out his hand. “Good to meet you man. I’ve heard all about you.”

Eddie just stares at Sam. Stares and stares until Dustin kicks him in the shin. “Right. Sam. Sam. Good to meet you, man,” Eddie says, but he looks pale and vaguely sick and if Steve didn’t know from the few times Dustin had slipped up in the past, he’d think Eddie was homophobic (and he knew that wasn’t the case.)

Sam grins. “Well, good to have you here. Steve, babe, Robin wants you in the kitchen, something about the salsa - “

“Oh my God,” Steve groans, and then all thoughts of Eddie are forgotten in his rush to make sure Robin doesn’t actually poison everyone, and then he gets busy greeting people and saying hi and it’s not until well after midnight, when the remaining guests are smoking up with Argyle and Steve is taking out the trash that he remembers Eddie. Or, more accurately, that he bumps into him.

“So. Sam,” Eddie says, smoking a cigarette by the garage, gazing off into the distance. “He’s a good dude. Got shit taste in music, though.”

Steve slams the trash can lid shut a little harder than he needs to. “Dude,” he sighs, and Eddie must hear his exhaustion because he doesn’t say anything else for a while.

“Did you know?”

“About what?”

“About you? Back in ‘86?”

Steve just nods tiredly. “Yeah, man. I did.”

Eddie hums nervously. “And was there someone - “

“Eddie, man, you know there was. You know.”

“Yeah,” Eddie’s laugh sounds broken. “Yeah, I did. Fuck. Fuck.”

And Steve doesn’t know what to say, because what is there to say? He loved Eddie; hell, part of him still loves Eddie. But Eddie ran at the first inkling of there being something between them, and Sam didn’t. He’s never run, not even when Steve gave him so many reasons to. And Steve could tell Eddie that he’s wondered, so many times he’s wondered, what they could have been. If they could be anything.

But Eddie wasn’t there to hold out his hand, and Sam was. Sam is, and that makes all the difference.

Steve claps his hand on Eddie’s shoulder, just like Eddie did when he arrived, and then he heads into his house.

(This time, he’s the one to leave Eddie behind.)

In case anyone is having a bad night:

Here is the fudgiest brownie in a mug recipe I’ve found

Here are some fun sites

Here is a master post of Adventure Time episodes and comics

Here is a master post of movies including Disney and Studio Ghibli

Here is a master post of other master posts to TV shows and movies

*tucks you in with fuzzy blanket* *pats your head*

You’ll be okay, friend <3

Submit your favorite fics!

Trying something new. It may or may not work, but experiments are cool so we're experimenting.

I want to create a collective list of favorite Steddie fics all in one place.

This list would be updated in perpetuity. People can use this list to browse and find older recommended fics, discover hidden gems, or just snag something good to read. (It might also be helpful if anyone ever wanted to start something similar to @/stuckylibrary but for Steddie.)

Submissions are anonymous and unlimited. You can submit as many things as you like. Submit well-known fics, submit fics you think aren't loved enough. Submit fics that deserve literary awards. Submit weird little crackfics that brought you joy. Crawl your bookmarks and rec lists and DMs with friends.

If you love a fic, someone else might too.

The only rule is that fics should have enough Steddie focus (pre-Steddie pining is totally cool!) to be, you know, Steddie. Also don't worry if you submit something already on the list. That just tells people it's double/triple/quadruple recommended. (If it gets out of hand, I'll manually edit in a rec count or something.)

Submit your faves here.

View the collaborative list here. (Please remember that this might be mostly empty until people have had a chance to submit some stuff.)

She's an icon

Steve can’t breathe anymore. Not around Eddie. Not when he looks like that, completely at ease, cigarette between his lips, smoke in his face and in his hair, eyes closed. Allowing Steve to look. To stare. To see.

Allowing him to feel the way his heart picks up its rapid beat against his rib cage, to feel the lump forming in his throat, and that tingling sensation to travel from his fingertips to his palm where he imagines touching his hand to Eddie’s face, tucking that one stubborn strand of hair behind his ear, and then keep it there. His hand against Eddie’s cheek. Thumb stroking gentle patterns until Eddie’s eyes catch his, catch the meaning behind his stare, behind the way he can’t look away, can never look away, and—

Lean in. Lean his forehead against Eddie’s. Breathe him in. Inch closer, torturously slow but clear in his intention. Smile before he even gets there, before he feels those lips agains his own, claiming them in a kiss.

No, not claiming. Asking. Offering. Treasuring.

It makes him tingle, that thought. That all-encompassing thought that keeps him from sleeping, keeps him from focusing at work, keeps him even from listening to Eddie’s words right now. Those lips are moving, spreading into a grin and then a laugh, and—

“Steve.”

He blinks out of his love-crazed stupor and looks at a beautiful, smiling, delighted Eddie. Steve wants to trace that smile with his lips.

“Hm?”

Eddie blows out the smoke and smiles impossibly wider. “What is it, huh? What’s got you looking like that?”

Don’t you know? Can’t you see? Aren’t I the most obvious person on this planet? Won’t you see me?

“Nothing,” he rasps, falling back onto the grass, looking up at the purple sky above them.

Eddie doesn’t say anything, doesn’t make him talk like he usually would. He just takes another drag of his cigarette, and hums, looking up as well — allowing Steve to watch again. He always does that. He never looks back. Never looks at Steve like that.

Won’t you see me?

Steve wants to reach out. Eddie’s ankle is right there, his chin resting on his knee, looking like he’s in deep thought. Or just serene. Either way, completely oblivious to the yearning that tears Steve in half and makes him want to wrap his hand around Eddie’s foot. Just to touch. Just to be there.

But he can’t.

He can’t.

And maybe there’s nothing to see anyway. He exhales, wishing for his feelings to disappear right along with the air in his lungs.

But they don’t. They won’t. They can’t.

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

How to show emotions

Part V

How to show grief

a vacant look

slack facial expressions

shaky hands

trembling lips

swallowing

struggling to breathe

tears rolling down their cheeks

How to show fondness

smiling with their mouth and their eyes

softening their features

cannot keep their eyes off of the object of their fondness

sometimes pouting the lips a bit

reaching out, wanting to touch them

How to show envy

narrowing their eyes

rolling their eyes

raising their eyebrows

grinding their teeth

tightening jaw

chin poking out

pouting their lips

forced smiling

crossing arms

shifting their gaze

clenching their fists

tensing their muscles

then becoming restless/fidgeting

swallowing hard

stiffening

holding their breath

blinking rapidly

exhaling sharply

How to show regret

scrubbing a hand over the face

sighing heavily

downturned mouth

slightly bending over

shoulders hanging low

hands falling to the sides

a pained expression

heavy eyes

staring down at their feet

Part I + Part II + Part III + Part IV

If you like my blog and want to support me, you can buy me a coffee or become a member! And check out my Instagram! 🥰

Masterpost: How to write a story?

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

How to motivate myself to write more

How to get rid of writer’s block

Basic Overview: How to write a story

How to create a character

How to make a character unique

How to write conversation

Introducing a group of characters

Large cast of characters interacting in one scene

Redemption arc

Plot twists

How to write a summary

How to write romance

How to write emotional scenes

Fatal Character Flaws

More specific scenarios

Slow burn

How to create quick chemistry

How to write a bilingual character

How to write a polyamorous realtionship

How to create and write a cult

Criminal past comes to light

Reasons for breaking up while still loving each other

Forbidden love

Date gone wrong

Causes for the apocalypse

How to create a coffee shop atmosphere

How to write enemies to lovers

How to write lovers to enemies to lovers

Arranged matrimony for royalty

Paramilitary Forces/ Militia

Honeymoon

Academic Rivals to Lovers

How to write amnesia

AU ideas

Favourite tropes

Inconvenient things a ghost could do

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.