I Need And Will Have This Art In My Mind, While Writing Fanfiction.

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

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

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

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

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

It will be remembered!

You know a few different times I’ve been asked what my biggest regret in life is and I usually say “I don’t know” but that’s a lie. A fat lie. My biggest regret is one time in 7th grade I broke a glowstick and drew a heart with Sasuke’s name in it on my bedroom wall but if that’s not bad enough you know glowsticks usually fade after a day, right? Well not this one- this one stained the wall so even at a grown ass adult there’s Sasuke’s name in a goddamn giant ass heart on my wall as erasable as the shame in my heart.

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.

hi actually your friends wanna hang out with you because you’re delightful to be around and it’s fun to spend time with you. you make their day better and out of all people they could spend their day with, they choose you because you’re a good choice. your friends like you. they like you so much.

Please, for the love of god, please don’t be this person. No matter how long it’s been since an update, no matter how many unfinished stories are sitting on their account, no matter what - do not be this person.

Not only is it insanely rude, but you also do more damage than you think be being such a self-entitled ass about something someone created for free and for fun. “This author” can see what you say.

RIP decency indeed.

I love only child Steve Harrington, but how about I suggest something else that's really angsty? Stay with me here, please.

CW Ahead: Death of a Sibling, Grief/Mourning, Minor Suicidal Ideation, Steve's Sacrifices to Prove Self-Worth

Steve Harrington had a twin. They were identical.

They'd chase each other around in the Indiana sun, when it was at its lowest, grass green in the field, lightning bugs about. Barefoot in the backroads, dust particles, laughing until their stomachs hurt. Riding their bikes up and down their street, seeing who could go faster. Swimming laps in the pool, trying to beat the other.

Their parents are happy. A good marriage. Lovely kids. Living that smooth, good life.

Both of them super young when it happens. He and his twin are roughly...12? 13? Middle school age.

It's another summer night. No school. Not a care in the world. The Harrington family go out of town for a lake house vacation. Steve and his twin swim laps and laps around in the lake.

They've got beach toys, playing in the very little amount of sand. Then, Steve accidentally drops his little plastic shovel into the water. It sinks, or at least begins sinking. His twin tells him to stay out of the water, that he'd go down and retrieve the shovel. His twin had the better swimmer's lungs after all.

But then thirty seconds pass. Forty-five...a whole minute.

Bubbles come to the surface. The water rippling like somebody's thrashing. And then...nothing.

Of course, Steve runs up to the lake house to get his parents. To get help. But he was too late. He couldn't save his brother.

After this, he can't even look himself in the eyes. Can't look into a mirror. After this, his parents grow distant from him. They leave more and more frequently, leave him alone in his guilt. Affairs and arguments...it all happens too frequently now. Steve keeps to himself. He's quiet and weird. Barely has any friends. Won't talk about that summer evening. Won't consider going around a lake again.

But...but then he goes to high school. He tries out for the swim team, just to give himself something to do. It made his dad pay attention to him. It made his parents stay. It made a small part of him proud, when he did good at his meets, when he was eventually given the co-captain spot. He worked as a lifeguard over the summers.

Barb goes missing from his backyard. He isn't aware that she was dragged through the pool. Didn't see it, never knew.

Nancy lives with the same sort of guilt that Steve did. But Steve only knows one way of coping: moving on. Busying his brain with stupid things: drinking and partying and sports and other things that seem meaningless. He seems fine, doesn't he? It's not like he's weighed any of the shit he's been through.

(He is. He won't tell anybody this.)

Dustin asks for his help that one day, the same age as Steve's twin brother was—will forever be. And Steve knows, even if he accepts reluctantly at first, that this is his duty. It's what's going to prove that he can care, that he isn't fucked up over this thing that happened, that he can do better.

Helping where he can, that's what makes him proud. Being somebody to step in, to throw themselves at the danger rather than letting anybody else experience it.

And then Lover's Lake.

He hasn't been out on a lake, not even dipping his toes in the water since the incident. But when it comes down to it, to the group he's sitting on that rickety boat with, he knows he must. He must prove that he can help, that he can swim best, that he can use his skills for good; rather than sitting by, almost uselessly.

He's being dragged back under the surface, something wrapped around his ankle. He's panicking, of course he's panicking—there's questions and broken sentences flashing through his brain: did this happen to him? is this what he felt like? am I going to die like this, too?

For half a moment, he expects to die. He's ready to die. Like maybe dying will break him free from the guilt he's been carrying. Like a cycle will be reset.

He's relieved when he doesn't drown.

Yet, when that demobat releases his throat and he can get enough oxygen to focus on his surroundings, he sees all the others around him in the Upside Down. And he's furious. Furious that they had to go after him, to save his sorry ass. Because, again, he's put himself in a position of complete uselessness.

Always the one needing help, needing to be saved.

He'd rather do it alone. Rather be the bait, the hook line and sinker.

And when the fight is over, when Dustin loses Eddie...

Steve sees himself in Dustin's eyes. Helpless, scared, vengeful—

Guilty.

He considers his new duty to be to actually help Dustin's guilt. To try and make it better. But he's fucking it up, he constantly fucks it up. Just like he did with Nancy. He still can't look himself in the eyes.

Not without seeing his brother's face. Not without seeing scars where he failed to fully protect. Not without seeing Dustin's guilty, angry gaze. Not without seeing himself.

And somewhere along the lines, he knew his self-worth was low. But it's even lower. Like it was when he lost his brother; it shouldn't have been his brother. It shouldn't have been Eddie. It should've been him.

But he doesn't tell anybody this revelation he has. He continues on, life normal, trying to be helpful where he can. No matter how little, no matter how much he must sacrifice.

————

Another version here:

Dustin is guilty because Eddie got so injured, but Eddie's saved by Steve. Steve makes it his only mission in that moment to resuscitate Eddie—he learned CPR after his brother died just in case, he's thankful for his anxious self-nagging.

But Dustin is still guilty and Steve still sees himself.

And Eddie's trying to reassure both of them, but nothing seems to get through. He's the only one who can really see through Steve's cracks, he ends up not liking what he's seeing. Under the surface, Steve is just hollow. Not hollow like he's dumb or boring or unimportant. Hollow like there's nothing keeping him tethered, nothing fulfilling him, nothing to keep him satiated and happy.

Under the surface, Eddie sees a version of a man he doesn't really know. He sees Steve constantly fighting a mental battle, some sort of self-worth argument, some prattle with his own thoughts. He sees a man barely living; he sees a man willing to die for anything.

Again, he ends up not liking what he's seeing.

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

#wereshifter au: 1 | 2 |

Werewolf Steve but Eddie's the only one out of the loop. One day Dustin found him in the park petting dogs and Eddie unloaded on him his childhood dream of having a pet. Dustin immediatelly goes to Steve to dish the info, waggling his eyebrows the whole time.

A couple days later Eddie makes friends with a huge dog with fluffy brown fur who wanders the park without an owner and seems interested in the metalhead's attention exclusively.

secret admirer part four

1,321 words

one two three

Eddie the hobbit, huh? i haven’t read that one (which isn’t saying much cause i've only read books from class) it’s probably good i’d love to hear you talk about it i’d love to hear you talk about anything, though, so maybe i’m biased p.s. i know it makes me sound like an inconsiderate asshole and maybe i am but i’m only now realizing that i don't know if you want me to stop with these i’m sorry if you do promise i’ll figure out a way to ask -H

Eddie finding a way to reply to him about the book gives Steve peace of mind that he doesn’t want him to stop with the notes, but he still feels sort of weird about it. His thoughts go round and round all day and by the time the dismissal bell rings, he has a bit of a headache. 

After checking that he has enough cash on him, Steve goes out to the picnic table behind the school where Mark Jones sells pot most days. 

He makes his way into the clearing only to see someone who is certainly not Mark Jones perched on top of the table. 

Steve stops dead in his tracks.

Eddie grins sharply and holds his arms out wide. “What have I done to be blessed with his highness’ presence?”

Steve wants to talk to him. Wants to tell him to just call him Steve, wants to ask about his book, but all that comes out of his mouth is, “What are you doing here?”

Eddie’s arms drop to his sides and he raises his eyebrows in question.

“Where’s Jones?” Steve clarifies, taking slow steps forward.

“Ah, I see. You’re here for my wares.” Eddie abruptly jumps from his seat and stretches with a groan that has Steve’s cheeks heating up. Eddie meanders over to the other side of the table before looking back at Steve and tilting his head in amusement. “Unfortunately, Mark has been let go. He had a nasty pilfering habit.” 

Whatever the fuck that means.

Steve can’t help the small smile that grows on his face, but he lifts his hand up to wipe it off inconspicuously. He’s never talked to Eddie before. 

Eddie drops onto the bench and gestures for Steve to sit across from him. As he does, Eddie opens his lunchbox and begins to rifle through it. Steve lets his eyes trail to Eddie’s hands while his focus is elsewhere. This close, Steve can finally see what shape the chunky silver ring is. A skull with fangs. Of course, it’s a skull. He should’ve known. 

Steve thinks about complimenting it but decides it would only make Eddie suspicious and he doesn’t wanna be found out (yet, he thinks then immediately backtracks. He can’t let anyone know that he’s writing love notes to a boy. Especially not the boy himself. Who knows how Eddie would react. Even though Steve hasn’t been trying to come off as a girl through the notes, and even though no one could possibly mistake his chicken scratch penmanship for that of a girl’s, still. No one can know).

“So.” Eddie claps his hands and Steve’s eyes snap to his face. “What’ll it be, my liege?”

Steve clears his throat. “Uh, I usually just go for a couple of pre-rolls.”

“Mhm, great choice. Prepared these myself.” Eddie swipes a baggie with two in it and holds it out. When Steve goes to grab it, though, Eddie pulls it out of his reach. “Ah ah ah, Harrington, no freebies.”

Steve rolls his eyes and huffs a laugh. “Yeah, alright, man.” He pulls his wallet out and hands him what he usually pays. Eddie takes the money and counts it leisurely. “You’re five bucks short.”

Steve stares at him deadpan. 

“Birthday fee,” Eddie offers in explanation, shrugging like 'what can you do?’ “Can’t a guy make some extra change for his special day?” Eddie bats his eyelashes.

This boy is trying to kill him. Steve looks heavenward for strength. He counts down from five in his head and only then does he risk looking back at Eddie. “It’s your birthday?”

Eddie grins. “Yup,” he says, popping the p, “Tomorrow. The big one eight.”

Steve stands and tosses a ten onto the table. Eddie passes him the baggie and starts shuffling through his lunchbox. He pulls out a five and holds it out.

Steve waves him off and Eddie peers up at him suspiciously before shrugging and returning the bill to his stash. Steve turns on his heel and begins his journey back to the parking lot. “Happy birthday to me, I guess,” Eddie mutters and Steve smiles to himself. He shoves his hands in his pockets and pivots to walk backwards. 

“Happy birthday, Munson,” he calls and Eddie’s head snaps up.

Steve grins before turning back around and breaking into a jog. 

It’s not often that Steve finds himself in the thrift store. Not ever, actually, but with all that Eddie complains about capitalism and The Man (who the fuck is the man) and whatnot, he supposes this is his best bet. 

Steve wanders around, not even really knowing what he’s looking for. He’s idly skimming over the women’s jewelry section when he finds it. A silver ring with a blackish blueish stone in the center. It’s not that far off from the one Eddie already has, is it?

Steve tries it on and it’s a bit snug. Steve will admit that he spent far too much time earlier looking at Eddie’s hands and he thinks they were about the same size as his own, if not a bit thinner. 

It’s perfect. 

…He hopes it’s perfect. 

Eddie heard through the grapevine today’s someone’s b-day i left a gift for you under the dealer’s table p.s. it didn’t fit in the locker p.s.s sorry if this is weird but you’ll understand once you see it -H

He jogs to plant the present in its place. He’d rolled the second note up and slipped the ring onto it. It kinda looks like a scroll.

happy birthday eddie i don’t know if you want me to keep writing or if you think it’s weird or what if you want me to stop just don’t wear the ring and i’ll back off i hope you have a good day and that you like the ring <3 p.s. you’re older than me now

Steve is so anxious that he feels nauseous by the time he makes his way back to practice and it must show because coach tells him to take the bench. Tommy shoots him a worried glance but Steve just waves him off.  

By lunchtime, Steve doesn’t think he can look. He doesn’t know why it feels like this. Like Eddie not wearing the ring would be the end of the world. 

He manages to avoid looking for the first ten minutes and is seriously worried that he won’t have the guts to do it. Just as he’s resigned himself to his fate, Tommy groans from where he’s sitting in Steve’s usual seat (he hadn’t questioned the change) and then he cups his hands around his mouth and shouts.

“Get down, freak!”

Steve only just manages to not flinch. Slowly, he turns in his seat. Eddie pays no mind to Tommy other than flipping him off without even looking in his direction or pausing in his speech.

Eddie is currently using a lunch table as a stage as his friends grin up at him, egging him on. He’s passionate about whatever it is he’s talking about. Steve can tell from the way he begins gesturing wildly as he speaks. 

Steve can't tear his eyes away. He feels like he's finally been given permission to look since half of the cafeteria has their attention on him. 

It’s then that Steve glimpses the ring on Eddie's right hand. His ring.

tag list

@sofadofax @noodle-shenaniganery @queenie-ofthe-void @friendlyneighborhoodgaycousin @devondespresso @dreamingtheimpossibe @plutoshelm @jaywhohasthegay @scarlet-malfoy @hotluncheddie @dreamy-jeans137 @justdrugsformethanks @estrellami-1 @travelingtwentysomething @sleepy-steve @wheneverfeasible @bisexual-and-broke @lil-gremlin-things @n0-1-important @xxbottlecapx @tinyplanet95

sorry if i missed anyone!!