I WAS ASLEEP DURING THE BUG RACE POLL AND I AM SAD

I WAS ASLEEP DURING THE BUG RACE POLL AND I AM SAD

Steve has dreams of being a pop star.

One of the biggest names is the music business is in Indianapolis scouting out talent. The next big young sensation. Since Eddie, Robin, and Nancy are his best friends they come along to support him in his endeavors. He starts his audition, but the guy isn’t impressed. Eddie leaps up on the table, singing a song he makes up on the spot about him being a giant turd Steve and the girls joining in.

They’re escorted out. And later that night the same guy shows up at Eddie’s house, telling him he wants him. Eddie laughs thinking he’s kidding. (He’s not).

Eddie agrees on the condition that Steve, Robin, and Nancy get to come with him. That they will be a group act. What’s his name big guy reluctantly agrees and the four of them find themselves on a plane to LA with Wayne and Dustin to move into the Palm Springs Hotel and become the next big thing.

Steve - James

Eddie - Kendall

Nancy - Logan

Robin - Carlos

Please reblog this so that I can get a bigger sample size, but DO NOT include anything in the tags about the results, as that could influence other responses

Steve had always felt that he never understood the idea of a home. 

He remembered, in fourth grade, his teacher asking the class what “home” was. Tommy Hagan had said home was where his bedroom was, Carol said that it was where her clothes were. Other kids said that it was where their parents were, their house, where they didn't have to be scared, where they were happy. Steve didn’t have an answer to the question, because what was a home? What was his home?

He thought about his bedroom, maybe, like Tommy, that could be his home? But yet, he couldn’t help but feel a twisting feeling in his gut at the thought of his room. With its beige walls with brown stripes, matching curtains, plain bedsheets and a plain desk covered in books that he could barely understand, he didn’t think that it was home. His dad threw away all of his toys a couple of weeks ago, all but a basketball and a football, so there was nothing there that he loved. Why would Tommy feel at home in his bedroom? Steve hated his. Was that wrong?

Steve didn’t have any clothes that he liked, so that couldn’t be his home. His mom always bought his, telling him to wear them without complaint. He didn’t complain. Really, he didn’t! He just never liked the shirts she bought him, they were too plain, and the pants he had to wear were too itchy. 

Home was where his parents were? His parents had been going on longer trips, did that mean that his home was where they were traveling? Was that his home? But, he’s never been there! That didn’t make sense, did it? 

And, Steve was always scared at his house in Loch Nora. It was so big, filled with empty space, echoing hallways that sometimes creaked. Anything could jump out at him, and his dad was never home to stop the monsters from crawling out from under his bed! How was he not supposed to be afraid? 

And, he knew for a fact that he wasn’t happy there. He hated going back to his house. He would rather spend his time playing with Tommy and Carol in the park, or in the school gym, or even at someone else’s house. Never his own. 

So, what was his home? Was it somewhere far away, where his parents were? Was it his strange bedroom that felt like it was meant for someone else? Was it the clothes he hated, the empty hallways that never ended? He didn’t know. He didn’t know. 

And, that day, in fourth grade, Steve Harrington realized that he didn’t have a home, and he probably never would. 

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At 20 years old, Steve finally realized what a home was. 

Home wasn’t a place, it wasn’t a bedroom, and it certainly wasn’t parents that didn’t care for him. 

Home was a girl who never pushed him away, who loved him for who he was, who was his platonic soulmate, the one person he never knew that he needed but was so, so thankful to have.

Home was a child genius with curly hair and a ballcap, spouting nerdy science facts every second, who teased Steve endlessly but cared for him like a brother. 

Home was a young girl with a heart of fire, one who had been through too much pain and suffering but never gave up, who lay in a hospital bed, waiting for rescue. 

Home was a group of people who cared for him, who had fought in countless battles with him, beside him, who gave him names that meant more to him than they knew. Babysitter. Dingus. Friend. Hero. 

Home was an army of over a dozen people, each with their own weapons, their own strengths, their own weaknesses, their own passions, their own struggles. 

Home was a family of misfits, every single person cracked and bruised from one thing or another, but still standing strong, holding each other together in unity, in strength, and in courage. 

And that’s how they stood now, standing on the edge of a red gate, a gray sky above them, weapons in hand, an enemy below them. 

Steve now had a home. And he would do anything to protect it. To protect them.

Vecna didn’t stand a chance.

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Author's note: This was written in an attempt to get me writing again (I haven't had the motivation to write in a week or so...so I needed to get it back lol). So, I'm not sure how good this was, but I hope that you all enjoyed it! It should be posted on AO3 soon!

Okay reblog if you’re an artist who STRONGLY PREFERS reblogs with commentary

People are apparently under the impression that reblogging someone’s art and adding a comment is frowned upon and that can’t possibly be true, every artist I know of sees a reblog-comment as like the ultimate definitive reward for their hard work.

Obviously don’t feel bad for NOT adding a comment if you’re shy or just don’t know what to say, but if there’s something you would like to say about a drawing you’ve liked enough to reblog, I’m pretty sure most artists crave hearing it.