🪻SpringFaeKohaku🪻

I just created a GoFundMe and my goal is to get Top Surgery, which is a Gender Affirming Surgery that will save my life and eradicate my chest Dysphoria.

I don't usually ask for help, especially money wise or even donations; but l'm asking now...even if you can just share this around and give it traction — it'd be so helpful and greatly appreciated. All the money beyond the goal will go towards Trans and Nonbinary individuals who are in need of the same gender affirming care/surgeries.

I usually tend to focus on my art, but I won't lie, this has been something that has been plaguing my life for far too long, I don't know how long I can live with this and feel this way while I am trying to not only create...but live. Especially with my FND.

Thank you for reading. Please, stay safe, take care and keep your head up. 💜🪻

Chapter 2

Gator’s introduction to his new temporary “home” was a quick one. It must’ve been because of the fact he cannot see, but everything went like a flurry of voices, being directed by the chains attached to his cuffs and how the environments changed from the sound of a plane, to a engine of a bus with other prisoners like him and the gravel beneath his feat.

It was much quieter and eerie in the Federal Medical Centre. His process of being checked out, records being collected and approved, his medical records in the system and medication to be scheduled at a timely manner everyday. Some to be taken everyday and others to be taken every few days, the chronic migraines he gets now is debilitating, his right arm thankfully out of that hideous cast and fully healed, however mentally, it’s a different story, as he has to take antidepressants every day now.

Time seems to go fast when he’s just existing and going along with everyone else’s seeing eyes. How they control and direct his every move and actions, whether it’s to make sure he doesn’t trip on a step or to be prepared for a body search as they give him new khaki green and white prison clothes. He has no control, he doesn’t have dignity or pride here, the ball is in their court and he knows he’s better off than his father — that’s for sure. He can imagine the treatment and process of Roy being put in Federal Imprisonment, which will most likely not be a welcomed one. Gator feels that there’s a likely chance that his father would flourish in prison, take charge and become like a wolf, create his own pack and live a comfortable life despite being behind bars.

He’d make do, something Gator will have to do as well, but in his own way. Gator will not be like his father. Never.

This is a new start for him, this rehabilitation, this isolation and confinement, he will serve his time and during it — he will become a better person. The rabbit knows its place now, it can use its nose to sniff out its environments, use its body to feel and huge ears to hear, its teeth only meant for food and not the flesh of other creatures or people.

The blind man is escorted by the elbow to his new cell, thankfully which is on the ground floor and easily accessible and closer to the main security box and inside courtyard with tables for leisure. He hears commotion, meaning everyone is still awake and it must be daylight with how active everyone is. Gator hears the guard talk, he didn’t pay attention enough to get his name. He has a very strong Texan accent, it makes him envision the man with a full moustache, a stubble on both sides, his hair brown and medium length with a sharp jawline. His hands feel bony but his grip is strong, it’s oddly reassuring — knowing he at least is in the hands of someone that’s not gonna lead him astray or snap like a twig. If Gator would fall due to a misstep or by simply tripping on his own feet, at least this guy would catch him and pick him up easily, because Gator is no small guy.

But, Gator knows there are bigger guys here. He can hear them clearly, their booming voices, deep and masculine while others are meek and quiet — it’s quite the spectrum. He can’t pretend to be a wolf like his father, he’s a rabbit, a blind rabbit at that and he needs to remember that.

“Well, here is your cell,” the Texan guard states, “Number 8. Now, just stay right there as I open up the cell door okay?” Gator feels his hands grip leave his elbow and it must be because he’s so touch starved but he misses the human touch already.

Gator simply stands and he’s grateful that while in hospital, as he recovered, he learned how to stand by himself without falling or felling like the world is tilting on its axis; it took him a while to feel right in the darkness but he did it. He hears the jingle of keys and the insertion of said key for his cell to be unlocked, iron bars being parted and slid across.

It felt like the guard took ages but Gator feels his hand on his elbow again and his voice cutting through the commotion, “Now, I will be back with your amenities, toiletries and cane. You, just sit here on your bunk bed below and sit tight alright?” The guard explains, as he settles Gator down.

Gator notices immediately how the commotion gotten a little more quieter when stepping through his cell, his shoes don’t echo when they walk towards his bed and the guards voice doesn’t bounce off the walls; it feels secluded and like it’s his domain now. The young man can only nod as he’s placed on his new bed, the mattress isn’t like his own in his old room but it’s better than nothing. He hears the sounds of keys and his cell door close again and the telltale sound of boots walking away. All he can do is think and go over his thoughts so far as he waits.

Firstly, a cane? Gator wasn’t sure how this whole thing was gonna work out, he never heard of a blind person in prison before, he never thought he he’d be one but here he is. He’s heard horror stories from Roy how folk in prison will use anything they have to maintain order, to protect themselves or use to hurt others. Shanking is the one he’s heard of the most, he knows of certain gangs and certain people you have to look out for and steer clear from. He doesn’t know how this will work, but if they give him access to a cane, then surely it means he’s protected enough that no one will steal it or use it as a weapon right? He’s already at a disadvantage, he doesn’t even know what he looks like now. Sure, he’s had Dot to take care of that while he was in hospital, but he knows he’s already lost some weight, that he doesn’t look intimidating or anything like the rest. He’s just a rabbit in a place full of other creatures, sure, maybe he’ll find others like him but he’s unsure how he’ll approach that.

Secondly, he misses Dot immensely. He’s already thought of her multiple times since departing from her. But, he holds onto that hope and knowing that she’ll visit with his favourite cookies makes him smile.

After some pondering, he hears whistling and the sounds of boots again, jingles of keys and his cell door opens once again.

“Alrighty, I’m back with all your things.” The Texan guard announces, Gator can tell he said it with a sly grin.

“Now, I’ll set your stuff up with you so that you know where everything is and you’re accommodated as well as possible.” The guard says and goes to Gators side, “We’ll do this together and then you have free leisure to yourself until dinner time. Okay?” Gator nods, holding out his elbow and the guard takes it like they’ve done it hundreds of times before.

Gator is given a small thorough tour of his cell. He’s had objects placed in his hands and his guard labels them as he guides Gator to place them on the sink, on his small wooden desk and on his bed. He made sure that the young man knew where the toilet was and where the rolls were kept as well. In the end, the cell didn’t have much but it worked for Gator, because it means less hazards. His guard tells him the wooden desk is light and has rounded corners as well. His sheet bedding was already on, but the Texan guard gives him some extra blankets and another pillow for comfort. It might mean he has to do more laundry but Gator didn’t mind, not if it meant he can spoon the pillow without any judgement or onlooking eyes at night.

As Gator is set back down on his bed again, the guard coughs and clears his throat, “Now, Gator, I need to get back to my station. I hope you settle in well, if you need anything, just give a holler alright? Dinner will be announced in a few hours.”

Gator hears the same pattern of sounds again and turns his head towards his opened cell gate and opens his mouth, he stutters but finds his voice.

“T-Thank you…ah?” The pattern of sounds break and he hears the guards voice hitch. The man gives a slight huff and chuckle, “Austin. But the names Officer Garcia to you.” Gator knows he must’ve turned his head because he could hear his voice clearly. He gives a small grin in return.

“Thank you, Officer Garcia.” Gator says and with that, the Texan guard now known as Officer Garcia walks out and closes his cell door, locking it and his footsteps faded away. His whistle of an old tune carries down from the open hall of cells and cut off as he exists past the security box.

Gators day was mostly travelling and being processed, his stomach grumbles in protest but he’s tired. He feels for his fold up cane on his bed and tugs it close to him, this is his eyes now, this will guide him and is now an extension of himself.

It hasn’t hit him just yet.

He knows it will.

But for now, he only wants to sleep. So, he kicks off his shoes, places his cane under his pillow and searches blindly for his blanket. It’s thin but a nice material and enough to keep him warm, the weather is different here and definitely warmer, but Gator yearns for that weight to be over him and make him feel held and secure.

He ignores the faint sound of other prisoners and guards, he evens out his breaths and thinks of Dot, he thinks of his favourite metal bands and cookies.

His body curls up in a fetal position and he’s never felt so small before. Like he’s a kid again. He thinks, on the verge of sleep about his childhood, his bringing and moments of comfort and happiness. Maybe, he’ll dream of him in another life where he was taken away and saved by Dot, where he lived happily and comfortably as a rabbit, that way, he’d still have his eyes and vision, where he never ended up in prison…dreaming of a better life.

So, he falls asleep.

Chapter 1

Darkness was something Gator became quite acquainted with since Ole Munch, an immortal sin-eater gorged out his eyes with a heated knife.

The last thing he saw was the red burning tip of the blade, screaming that he didn’t realise was coming from his own throat and deafening his ears, the pain made everything go white and his remaining eye roll at the back of his head.

He thinks he saw stars, the world go all distorted and in the midst of blinding pain and adrenaline, losing his voice as his screams becomes hoarse, he almost has this moment of pure reprieve, bliss and euphoria…but it was all torn away as Ole’s voice soothes him, so calming and pitying; he wasn’t done with just one eye. Gator feels tears begin again in his right eye, not sure if he can even produce tears in the eye Ole just took, but he sobs, knowing it’s not over yet.

Gator wanted out at this point, he’d rather be dead. He wanted Dot, he wanted her freshly baked cookies and warmth.

It felt like hours, no, an eternity since Ole’s gentle yet firm grip on his face is holding him still and Gator is helpless as Ole directs his last vision to his face and finally that same red hot knife shows itself again. Gator knew Ole wanted him to remember this moment, to have this scene and memory engraved in him, never to forget. The second time, it’s worse. He doesn’t know how, but his nerves are set alight, he’s definitely lost his voice at this point, the white burning pain in his eyes and face is too much; yet he stays conscious. He thought that the second time would be something he could handle, but the break in between as Ole put Gator’s eye in a jar made Gator put his guard down and his body slumped in response.

He definitely doesn’t like the colour red or any warm colours for that matter anymore. He definitely doesn’t want to come across anything hot or heated for a while either.

After his eyes were taken, his eye sockets now caved and carved, he recalled the smell of burnt flesh, blistering like pain and his body going limp in defeat and exhaustion. The phantom feeling of Ole’s hands and fingers holding him upright, the constant pet name of “Rabbit” being said and addressed to him. How he actually preened and loved the attention, he was down a sense and all he can feel, hear, smell and touch was Ole. The very man who was his target, who he tried to hunt down to make his father proud. A man who even though afflicted the pain, soothes his wounds and bandages them with cloth around his head. A small comfort.

Gator will never forget how powerless, small and insignificant he felt in that moment, his first moments of eternal darkness and how much of a prey he truly was. Was this the only way for him to be humbled, to finally have this eyes opened and see truly how much his father has corrupted him? He was no longer the predator he thought he was, he was not a winner, he was never going to be the som his father would be proud of. He should’ve known ever since his father told him why his name was Gator in the first place, how stupid and delusional he was to even think he had a chance to redeem himself in hopes that he’ll be Roy. That he’ll be deserving of that name.

Unfortunately, Ole is right. Gator is not this opposing and threatening predator, but a rabbit who tried to go against its nature and pretend to have claws and sharp teeth.

The rabbit is forced to take off its fake claws and teeth, retire the wolf fur it disguised itself as and mourn the loss of its eyes. In any other of case, a rabbit that is deprived of one of its senses is a death sentence in the wild, however, this rabbit will live. The rabbit will live as how nature intended it to.

Gator doesn’t remember the events that happens next, he vaguely recalls himself being tied and lead like a dog in a leash. His father’s voice, Gator calling out to him and being pushed into him and feeling cold everywhere. Everything is black, he calls out again but really, he wanted Dot. He wanted to cuddle up to her again.

Which is exactly what he got after everything was done and over with. The sound of sirens, voices everywhere and his brain going overdrive at the events that had just taken place. How he turned his father in and redeemed himself. Not entirely, but he felt it was the right path to take in order to get there. It’s only as he asks Dot for a hug, that when she encloses her arms around him and promises she’ll visit him in prison with his favourite cookies — that he finally lets himself break. He cries, he sobs with his whole body, he doesn’t think he cried any tears, which felt weird but his nose begun to run and he had to sniff a bit to keep it from running more. At least to him, that proved he can still feel, react and show emotion; the way his throat had that painful lump and whimpers screamed for someone to help him and love him. Gator finally feels a mother’s love once more.

He feels the warmth and sense of safety be taken from him as he’s cuffed to the stretcher and escorted by paramedics to the hospital. It takes a long time months perhaps, he would loose track of time and dates a lot. He doesn’t remember much, but it was cold, which he liked, but it was only bearable because Dot returned by his side and kept him company until their trial date. Their relationship was on the mend and they had a lot of time to recover and get reacquainted again. After Gator was cleared medically and prescribed medications for his treatment and road to recovery, he was also assessed for other concerns regarding his psychiatric state and was diagnosed with abandonment issues, complex PTSD, depression and anxiety. It’s honestly not surprising but to have it officially confirmed and on paper (which he couldn’t even read) felt all too real to him. His eyelids are permanently glued shut as well and he finds it more comfortable because of it.

After the trials, court, case and whole legal ordeal, his sentencing and hearing his fathers sentence being incarceration. Gator was sentenced to 5 years of imprisonment, due to the tampering of evidence and his other actions.

However, being the key witness and main accomplice to his father, being the one that turned him in and attested against Roy in court; Gator was able to have his sentence shortened. Not to mention that Dot was able to help shed light on his upbringing, how manipulative and corrupt his father was and how it was hard without his mother. It turned in his favour. He will serve 3 years in jail and because of his conditions, he will be placed in the Federal Medical Centre in Texas. A 2 and a half hour flight.

He thanks Dot for making sure they transfer him to the FMC rather than a normal prison, he knew that as the rabbit he was, he would’ve been eaten alive if that were the case. Fortunately, he has a better chance at surviving prison in a more protected environment, which will cater to his mental and medical needs. He also has Dot and her cookies to look forward to, he feels like that is his primary light in the dark, his willingness to keep living and be better.

He has much to atone for and even more to heal from. Which he’ll do in his time of isolation, even though being blind is basically isolation in itself. He just hopes he doesn’t go crazy in there. He has a lot to learn, to grow and adapt to.

The rabbit is in a new cage now. It doesn’t have its eyes, but it sees more clearer than ever before.

Ch1 Ch2

Steve!

Hey, hey — Steve! Stay awake…nonono keep your eyes open!

Please, stay with me, don’t…

…you’re gonna be okay…

Steve felt himself come to, his body felt heavy and like his eyelids were glued together. His lips felt chapped, his throat dry and he felt so groggy, but his brain was finally catching up and the urge to open his eyes grew.

So, he opened them to be greeted with fluorescent lights, a constant ringing sound in his right ear and the strong throbbing in his head, with so much onslaught of feelings and emotions; he felt overstimulated. His face hurt all over and his left eye was squinting, not fully opened. The lights were making this sound and he could feel the drumming of his heartbeat, beeping sounds repeating over and over again, he was nauseous to it all and felt like throwing up. But, he didn’t, he wasn’t going to do that because as a child, he always had a fear of throwing up and he wasn’t going to do that wherever he was. He felt dazed, confused and wait…

Is that a hand?

Steve blinked again and turned his head to the left to find a hand grabbing his uninjured hand, then he followed it to find a huge mass of hair on the side of his bed that belonged to none other than Jonathan Byers.

The young boy couldn’t believe it, Jonathan was resting on his bedside and he felt like his head was exploding. Maybe this all was a dream, he was going to wake up and he’ll be in his bed instead, with his ugly wallpaper his mother decorated without his input and trophies that amounted to nothing. He’ll be greeted to no one and in a soulless room in an empty house.

His thoughts of inner turmoil and disbelief end with a throbbing and burning sensation of his right hand, he hisses and shuffles in discomfort, not wanting to disturb Jonathan who was resting beside him but ultimately doing it anyways. He felt a bit guilty and bad for it but his heart flutters with the younger boys presence, he felt comforted by how after everything, he had someone to wake up to for once. Whenever he was injured or sick as a child, his parents would never stay or be there when he woke up, he never had that kind of affection or love. His Nanny that his mother and father couldn’t he assed to do the same even when he’d plead to her, to stay and be there when he woke up. No bedtime stories, no doting after his injures when he’d get hurt and be reckless on purpose because all he wanted was their love and attention. Sprained ankles, busted knees, he even recalls playing basketball with Tommy in middle school and falling, resulting in his first ever concussion. No supervision, no worried parents, just his Coach telling him what to do and his parents assuring the older man in empty promises and false lies that they’ll look after him.

But here Jonathan was. In all his glory, with a matching bandage around his hand.

And he was waking up.

Steve watched as Jonathan gained consciousness and saw his hand curled around his instinctively, like with no thought to it. He felt those damned butterflies again.

Jonathan lifted his head, he looked so tired and dazed, being hunched over in the chair and resting like that surely couldn’t be comfortable at all. The older boy watches mutely, his right hand demanding for relief to the pain and his head thundering in rows of throbs, pressing into his eyeballs, but he silently observes. Jonathan doesn’t even notice until Steve squeezes his hand and just like that, Jonathan was wide awake and sobered up in record time; eyes wide and mouth agape.

“Steve! Y-You’re awake!” Jonathan states. His volume was a bit too loud for Steve, the brunettes faced pinched in distaste and Jonathan instantly catches on; internally fighting himself. “I’m sorry. I’ll whisper for now, is that okay?”

Steve gave him another squeeze, he was forgiven. He attempts somewhat of a smile that felt like he was grimacing, but Jonathan nodded, smiling back.

“I’m going to call in the nurse okay? Let them know you’re awake and ask them if they can give you some of the good stuff. I can see that you’re in pain — I’ll be right back.”

Steve didn’t have time to react as he watched Jonathan softly pat his hand and depart from his bedside, getting up and making his way to the door and outside into the hallway. That was when Steve realised only now that he was in the hospital. It dawned on him so suddenly that he was hurt, not just, scrapes or bruises or even a broken nose — no…he was…

He was shot.

Oh God, he was shot and Nancy was the one who pulled the trigger.

He felt himself spiralling as the events of that nightmare of a night came flooding back to him and the last moments before he lost consciousness what Jonathans voice begging him to stay awake and calling out his name. The other worldly inner dimensional monster, the Christmas lights and living room lights flickering and bursting, the roof sinking in as its claw reaching for Steve. Seeing his Ex-Girlfriend aiming a gun at him, finding matching bandages on her and Jonathan’s hands, a nail-bat, Jonathan being so gentle and soft with him, sending him into a Queer panic and stepping into the fray to tap the ugly bastard into a bear trap and set it on fire. Steve beheading said creature and the rest…was nothing.

He just wanted to apologise.

These thoughts, not necessarily in order where hitting Steve like a truck. He didn’t even realise he was sending himself into a panic attack as Nurses and Doctors rushed their way in, calling out orders, turning the bright harsh lights off and closing the curtain to his left to drown out the sunlight, his faintly hears his heart monitor going crazy and his bones itching, his skin too tight and body shaking; his breaths were getting harsher and less oxygen was getting into his lungs. He was frantic and the sounds where making him feel like everything was too much, it was too much, fuck.

The last thing he heard was the voices and bodies of white coats pacing around his bed and seeing Jonathan standing out in the corner of the room looking at him in concern.

Then it all went black.

The next time Steve came through was not as slow or nice. He woke up with a gasp, his eyes bugged open and wide, struggling to get up, a voice close to his left side trying to sooth him and calm is sudden awakening.

Only, this time, he was met with Jonathan and Jim Hopper. Jonathan sees Steve’s want to get up and decides to help him prop himself in a seating position, then grabbing the bed post to angle it upright so Steve can lean back in a relaxed posture. Not wanting the older boy to injure himself further or go into another panic attack. Steve struggling to talk and coming out in dry croaks, Jonathan reaches for the glass of water and angles the straw to his mouth. The older boy grateful for the cold clear liquid going down his throat, it felt like bliss.

Jim can only watch the two boys in astound amusement and fondness.

He remembers not only long ago having the both of them in the back of his police vehicle, seeing Steve Harrington’s face busted in and Jonathan Byers without a scratch on him. Knowing that they had a fight — to his surprise, Steve denied any charges against the older Byers boy and explained how it was his fault anyways for pushing the other to snap; while his brother was missing and his mother seemingly going insane. Which he later learned and figured out for himself that was not the case at all. In fact, she was right and Jim needed to help. He needed to get his head out of his ass and be the Chief that this town needs, because as cursed as Hawkins is, it was his home and the people in it, it was his duty and moral obligation to serve and protect. Not only that, but he couldn’t bare to see another parent loose a child, especially not when there is a chance to save them and bring them back home.

He watches as Jonathan takes Steves hand in his own, rubbing circles on the back of his hand and whispering words of reassurance and trying to bring some kind of comfort. He sees Steve finally relax in what seemed in years, like he was waiting for someone to comfort him and be there for him. Something Jim hasn’t been doing. The man has had instances of reports of the Harrington boy throwing huge parties whilst his parents where absent and on work trips…and Jim would always be there to break it up and give him warnings each and every time. He stood there and watched, knowing his parents since high school. Knowing he left Steve with such people. He wished he was more attentive, more supportive and less absent throughout the boys life, the boy was practically screaming on the inside for anyone, anyone, to see through his act and show him that there are people who care about him.

Who’d love and want him.

It’s been a hell of a week and seeing Will and Steve in these hospital beds reminded him too much of Sara. His dear Sara.

Seeing these kids in these beds, even Steve being as tall as he is; he looked so small.

It reminded him that these are just kids. Steve may act big, like everything is normal and nothing could get to him. But it seems like that came to an abrupt halt when everything went upside down and witnessing in real-time Steves ‘King Steve’ persona crumble. Powell even noticed less parties at the Harrington residence, Flo even talked about no more calls being made and despite the call of the boys fight; Jim sees change.

So, the next best thing he can do is call Doctor Owens in.

Now comes the hard part.

Doctor Owens walks in with an air of authority and aloofness around him, with nurses behind him and the surgeon who worked on Steve’s hand.

Jim walks behind them and makes his way near Jonathan as the rest walks to Steve’s right-hand bedside. Jonathan, by Steve’s surprise holds his hand within their presence, firm and with no sense of letting go.

The three waited in baited breath.

“Mr.Harrington, nice to see you awake.” Dr Owens starts, holding the boys chart and smiling. Turning his head towards him and the new people in his room, Steve couldn’t help but think how goofy and weird this man is. He didn’t even care of the open show of affection of handholding they were doing.

“Just, Steve is fine. Please.” Steve replies.

Dr Owens smile broadens and nods in understanding.

“Right. Well, I got your chart here and now that you’re awake, you were quite in-and-out of it and I’m sure you don’t remember it. Now, we’d like to talk about your state of being and I’m sure you’re anxious to know about your right hand there.”

Steve blinks and — yeah, he wants to know, so he nods.

“So, let’s start with the small stuff and then we’ll work our way up to your hand?”

Steve nods again for him to continue. He won’t lie, he feels a bit anxious but he takes a deep breath anyways and exhales.

“Okay, let’s start with your superficial wounds. Some minor abrasions, like cuts and grazes. Nothing too bad. Now, your head. I was told by Jim here that you suffered a Grade 1 concussion before this all started, which I was also told why your face has minor injuries such as your split lip, nose — which isn’t broken, your eye is swollen but lemme just take a quick look now. But also, Jonathan here explained dhow after the fight with the Demogorgan, you passed out and fell to the floor, Which induced another concussion, he tried to keep you awake but you fell unconscious quickly, Grade 2. ” The doctor reads out and explains in a no nonsense manner but his tone soft. He reaches for his pockets and pulls out his torch, now closer to the bed, he leans across from Steve and does a normal eye checkup. Steve’s eyes flinch at the light glaring into his, no matter how less bright it was, he was told to close his left eye, his right eye was still swollen and he could only see blurred lines.

Dr Owens does what he could for the time being and continues where he left off, “Can you see anything at all?”

In which Steve nods and describes his vision blurry but not so bad. Next, his ears were also checked out due to the concussions; which he found the ringing in his right ear never dissipated. As he explained further and telling the truth that he actually started to notice it after the fight with Jonathan. In which Jonathan bows his head in shame but Steve turns to him and reassures him he didn’t hold it against him.

Dr Owen gained their attention again and resumes, “Okay, we’ll have to schedule a hearing test as well as an optometrist appointment later on. Now, onto the news I’m sure you’re wanting to hear most.”

Steve feels like a dowse of cold water is dumped onto him, he would’ve rather been shot in the foot. This news would tell him his fate, his future and how things will play out.

“Regarding your hand, I’ll let the surgeon take it from here. Dr Sheffur?”

Dr Owens parted and gave room for Dr Sheffur to take his place; he had Steve’s undivided attention.

“The surgery went well. As you may know, Hawkins isn’t equipped with specialists and doctors like those in the city. We are limited here and as I have handled gunshot wounds, operating on a gunshot wound in which the cartridge exploded, which I am sure you didn’t realise it’s true damage until later. Adrenaline must’ve been pumping and clouding your pain, I heard from your friend Jonathan here that despite the pain and wound; you handled a bat and gripped it tight. Which meant that your nerves must’ve been working due to pure adrenaline. Possibly, you didn’t even feel a thing.”

Dr Shaffur pauses to let the information sink in, “Do you want me to continue? Or take a break?”

Steve shakes his head and feel himself go a bit dizzy because of it but regains his composure. “Lay it down on me doc…” He tries so hard to play it off but inside, he’s internally vibrating out his skin. He even hears the heart monitor give away his poor attempt at an act. But no one calls him out for it or shows they saw through him.

Dr Shaffur coughed into his hand, clearing his throat and swallows, despite being the bearer of bad and good news; it never gets easy to tell patients the news of their conditions. Not when it’s their worst fears or nightmares come true.

In which he was the Sandman and he was going to give Steve the worst news and turn his nightmares into reality. He has been blamed so many times, on patients who he couldn’t save and despite all the hard effort and the countless lives he does save…the ones he does and ones that leave permanent damage hurt him.

“Your hand has suffered from nerve damage because of the cartridge explosion, it has left a gaping wound. Due to the blood loss of your hand, we had to cut up supply of blood to save it. Sadly, there will not be an 100% recovery for it, your muscles will need time to regrow and the bone in your palm will regrow to some extent but it will not regrow fully. We tried a surgical repair to suture the wound, but due to delayed treatment because of your situation, it has to also heal by a secondary intention. Natures Wound Filler. Your DNA will try to build a complete copy of the body if it is present with a nucleus but the skin and tissue that will regrow won’t be as tough as your original tissue. Due to the use of your hand after and I am sure your friend also tried his best to patch you up in a desperate time — a crucial time.

There are many tendons, nerves, muscles that are tightly packed into our hands…in this case, it hit a lot of them. In your case, I am saddened to say we weren’t able to make out the best outcome for your hand. There was nothing more I could do, the damage was too much and what I can say for the future of your hand won’t ever fully recover or of use. I’d also mention the Chronic Pain that’ll come with it. We can appoint you to a Physical Therapist to see if we can regain any movement and try. Any questions or should I let you and others take some time to ingest all of this?”

When Dr Shaffur finished, it was dead silent and it was like Jim’s toothpick in his mouth could drop and they’d hear it. Steve was trying his best to soak everything in and the more the Dr talked about his surgery and outcome for his hand, the more he felt like sinking into the bed — the urge to disappear was immense. He was speechless,

Steve had to use his hands, both hands, he plays basketball with them, he swims with them, he is right handed and depends on his hand for so many things.

Just like that, he felt his dream slipping away, he couldn’t even fall back on a scholarship with his basketball career, say goodbye to that and swimming championships. His parents would be furious with him, the disappointment in their eyes he could see plain as day, not because their kid got hurt but because of the hospital bills and taking them away from their business trip; not to mention that their kid couldn’t even do what he was only good at. Steve can admit, he loves sports. It was the only thing he excelled at and naturally, he took the chance to do anything to make his Dad and Mother proud. However, as time went on, he fell in love with it. Basketball offered him the adrenaline on the court, he looses himself and relishes in the sportsmanship, he enjoyed it even more because he had Tommy on the team. His best friend. Or, ex-best friend. Wow, he has a lot of past friends with history now. Swimming offered him the cold water, that parts like his body was made for the water, gliding through it seamlessly, it freed his mind and he felt at home. Like the pool in his backyard. It was the only thing that ever felt inviting and his in that damn house. His parents never even use it, only to show off.

He faintly hears Jim’s deep voice and Jonathan’s hand grasp tighter.

What use will he be now?

He looks down at his right hand and never felt so empty.

It wasn’t until he felt hands clasp his face on both sides and is turned to see Jonathan’s face. It was only the two of them in the room now and Steve didn’t even realise tears streaking down his face until the other boy’s thumb wiped them away, careful to mind Steve’s injuries that he was responsible for.

Steve’s head throbbed, the ringing in his ear building and eyes blurring due to the tears and his left eye fully shutting. He hiccuped and sobbed, finally coming to terms with the news and his future.

But for now, he had Jonathan by his side and apparently Jim Hopper in his corner now.

Which is why, when Jim walked out that room with the doctors to give the two boys space and time to feel and be and some privacy. The last he saw was Jonathan bringing Steve in for a hug.

He made his way to the waiting room and found none other than Nancy Wheeler seated in one of the chairs. Head down, elbows resting on her knees, hunched and had guilty ridden all over her; he could practically smell self-hatred in the air around her.

How on earth was he going to break the news to her?

Should he be the one to tell her?

Shit.

TBC…

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It was only supposed to be a warning shot.

Steve Harrington found himself staring face first into the barrel of a gun, held by none other than Nancy Wheeler — his girlfriend.

Said girlfriend was shouting at him, while Jonathan Byers stood at her side with matching bandages on their hands, the boy looking just as shocked as Steve. His voice echoing around them and getting lost in Nancy’s booming voice, a side he never saw from the girl that he fell head over heels with. Steve could only hold his hands up in a surrendering gesture, he was officially freaking out.

It was chaos. Steve didn’t even know what to think, he arrived with the intent to figure out what was going on with the two of them, Tommy and Carols voices taunting him in his head that something was going on. But this? He was being screamed at, demanding he’d leave and get out of the Byers residence, while Christmas lights were flickering on the wall with an alphabet drawn into it; he felt like he was having a fever dream.

Until the walls started to tremble and shake, Nancy’s voice got desperate and in a panic at Steve’s insistence to know what the hell was going on, he just wouldn’t leave. Jonathan’s panic at the escalation and the added pressure of Steve being in the midst of their plan, making everything go astray. Nancy had to do something to get Steve to leave, she felt herself building in pressure and like a rubber band; she snapped.

Just as the roof was being sunken in and the lights bursting, a loud BANG! rung through the living room and it all went silent…

Steve felt like his ears burst and could only hear ringing as he stared at Nancy. It was like things were in slow motion and his brain didn’t catch up to what just happened until he felt a burning sharp pain in his right hand and turned his head to see a hole in the middle of his palm. That’s when it all set in and realised what the fuck just happened.

He hears both Nancy’s and Jonathan’s voices.

“It was only supposed to be a warning shot. I-It, I…I aimed above I swear. I didn’t mean to.”

“What did you just do?! You shot him! You actually shot him, whatthefuckwhatthefuckwhatthefuck—”

Steve finally felt everything coming back and clear as the ringing subsided, the adrenaline wearing off and he truly feels the agony and pain in his hand. There is a hole in his hand. In the middle of his palm.

There is a fucking hole in his hand.

And Nancy Wheeler, his girlfriend was the cause of it. Pretty sure it was Ex-Girlfriend now.

He hears the two teenagers shouting in panic and stress, while Steve checked out, only feeling blood pooling out from his wound down his arms and off his elbow. So he releases his hands from the air and cradles his injured hand with his other one, it hurt but his mind was somewhere else and everything seemed to collapse on itself. In his mind and currently in the Byers living room. However, he had a rude awakening as he felt Jonathan call out his name like trying not to spook a wild animal that’s been injured. His name was soft and gentle on his lips. Steve could see the desperation and panic in his eyes, like they were running out of time.

And they were. They were given a moment of peace until hell broke loose again. Only this time, the roof does sink in on itself, with a monster phasing through it and Steve was right under it. He could only look up and see what appears to be a claw, almost puncturing through the roof like it was made out of flesh and stretched skin.

Jonathan didn’t waste a second, discarding the initial plan to coax Steve into safety, they ran out of time; so he lunges for Steve. Grabbing his uninjured arm, tugging him and both jumping over the bear trap and to the room with Nancy ahead, opening the door for both boys and her last, locking it and standing guard.

Steve was walked to the bed and Jonathan sat him down. He had to find something to bandage Steve’s wound, which felt fruitless because there was no medical supplies in this room. So he figured the next best thing is a thin layered shirt that he can tear up and use as a makeshift bandage. It seemed like luck was on his side because he found exactly that. It was a disposable shirt too, it wouldn’t be missed, so he got to work. He had to act fast, he could hear the monster finally break through and its heavy body hit the living room floor. He kneels down in front of Steve and sees the other boy holding his injured hand and trembling. He coaches Steve through it and tells him it’s going to be okay, that it’ll hurt but that he’s here. Maybe it was also to get himself together too. He’s not leaving. As scared as he is, Jonathan knew the monster smelt their blood and now Steve’s fresh flesh wound, he didn’t want it to get any worse than it already is.

They had a plan. It’s all gone to shit and haywire.

Now, they just need to figure out how to trap the bastard and keep it from the others. They can still do this, they need to do this.

Jonathan looks at his handy work and deems is satisfactory for now and turns towards Nancy, meeting her eyes, he sees her guarded, her eyes were stormy and face littered in a ripple of emotions. But it seems like she also has the same conclusion, get it together and focus on the plan; no matter if it’s skewed and ruined.

So, she meets Jonathan’s gaze. She doesn’t even have it in her to look at Steve. Her boyfriend. The boy she shot.

They can still execute in the next phase. They just need Steve to be hidden in a secure place, away from danger.

Away from Nancy and her gun. Which was unsaid but it was spoken in her mind.

Nancy nods, standing guard and Jonathan nods in return. Standing up to guide Steve to a wardrobe, taking everything out and placing him in. Jonathan didn’t feel any resistance, he can clearly tell Steve is still in shock and internally dissociating. He notices that far-away look and how pliant he was with being essentially manhandled into the wooden wardrobe. Sitting him down, Jonathan can only offer a few words of reassurance and telling the older boy they’ll be back for him when it’s over. He wasn’t able to wait for a response as Nancy signals Jonathan and Steve feels the sense of safety and warmth leave his space. A feeling he’d never thought associating with Jonathan, it was new but he couldn’t help but feel his lingering touches, gentle yet firm.

He doesn’t even notice the wardrobe doors close and all he knows next is darkness and being left alone with his thoughts. He can’t help but think back to his and Jonathan’s spat, how Steve taunted him and called him names, said awful things about his family and yet…the younger boy grabbed him and took his hand into safety and out of danger without a second thought. He can’t help but also think about how in their fight, or well, Steve’s beat-down, how Jonathan being on top of him sparked a feeling that felt dangerous and unknown, yet familiar. How he straddled his hips and felt his hands on him and like moments ago, instead of his touch hurting, he was gentle and kind. He felt butterflies in his stomach. It made Steve and his entire world go into turmoil and it seems like he’s come to two conclusions tonight:

Monsters are real.

He’s pretty sure he’s having a Queer awakening.

He didn’t have time to dwell more in the closet, haha, because the sound of gunshots, the sound of like a banshee screeching, Nancy’s voice and Jonathan’s grunts could be heard; Steve had to get out.

So he does.

Steve breaks out of his hiding spot and opens the door, he rushes to the scene of commotion and sees Jonathan pinned down by the monster, which looked to be made out of flesh, its mouth opens like a flower with petals that has razor sharp teeth inside — all wanting to bite into Jonathan’s face as the boy tries to fight against it. Nancy fired shots but it seems to not deterrent the monster, not even bothering it and she seemed frozen and unsure what to do next.

Enter Steve who spots the nailed bat, so he leaps over the bear trap again, grabbing the nail bat and as the adrenaline fills his entire being once again; he doesn’t even feel the pain as he grips the bat in a death grip. He gets close enough and shouts at the ugly bastard. He gains its attention and it screeches at him, now smelling the fresh blood from Steve’s hand and detached itself from Jonathan. It stood and towered over Steve but Steve didn’t feel anything but anger, rage, the instinct to protect and keep them safe.

He twirls the bat to get a better grip and positions himself into a stance to fully swing at the monster, using all his strength and power, he hoped playing baseball for a while payed off.

So he swung, the monster staggering and Steve was hitting blow after blow and that’s when Nancy and Jonathan recoup to see Steve backing the hideous creature into the bear trap. It was working.

Holy shit, it was working.

Steve knew it fell into the trap as it screeched in a guttural scream that he hasn’t heard before.

That’s when he hears Jonathan’s voice shouting at him to stand back and he sees the boy throw a lit lighter into the gasoline which Steve didn’t even notice until it was engulfing the floor and racing towards the trap. Eventually engulfing the creature and the three teens watch as the creature screamed, tried to break free of the trap and even tears off its leg to escape.

Nancy was caught off guard at the unexpected movement and backed away and tugged Jonathan back with her. Eyes trained on it as it advances towards them but then Steve, Steve being the reckless idiot he was, uses the last of his strength and takes only a few strides and twists his body, elbows up and shoulders squared; his feet planted and he swings.

The nails pierced the monsters head before the rest of the bat followed, connecting with the head ripping it clean off its shoulders. The screeching stopped at its decapitation and only the sound of fire burning its flesh remain and the flicker of the lights finally stop and the room stopped feeling like it was going through an earthquake. They stare at the monsters corpse and sees it disintegrating under the flames, taking the heat with it and only leaving scorch marks behind.

Everything was still.

It was over.

Or was it?

TBC…

Steve In The Upside Down (so many variations)

Steve getting shot by Nancy in S1 (might also connect to Steve being dragged into the Upside Down) How Will that turn out? What are the consequences? How does this affect everyone? It was only supposed to be a warning shot…

Steve befriending a Demodog. It somehow disconnected from the Hivemind or was created as defect, hence the other monsters turn on it. But Steve saves it and in turn they both bond.

Steve has Powers (I’m already writing and continuing my first fic. But I want more different powers for him)

Steve’s powers being more physical and more practical. Maybe even adaptable and willing to change. Especially under pressure. Kinda like how El can fight off 001 in their minds and Steve can finish him off by destroying his physical body too.

Richard Harrington and Steve both flee to escape the abuse from Richard’s wife, Steve’s Mother and find themselves at Forest Hills Trailer Park. Before S1 maybe?? Eddie and Wayne notice their new neighbours and their story starts from there.

Hannibal Inspired fic but I’ve never seen the show. Only like, the premise and insane amount of Hannigram. Except, Henry/001/Vecna was stolen, taken under Brenner, a mad-man who believes that Cannibalism is the key to knowing all and the human condition. 001 was passed the torch to continue Brenner’s experiments and quest. So, he tries to find his first victim. First it was El, but then she escaped. His first attempt and failure, but he succeeds with capturing Steve. But then no matter how hard he tries, Steve never breaks, so he sets out to find a more younger impressionable youth; enter Will Byers. Steve stays and tries to keep Will alive and sane. Will they escape? Will they be brainwashed like how Brenner did to Henry? Will El find others to help them escape? Will they actually find the key from consuming human flesh? Is that Jason fucking Carver and why does he have Chrissy Cunningham and Eddie Munson tied up? Steve feels like everything is going to shit. Now he has more people to save before they become the next main course. Hehehehehe—

Steve actually being Dmitri’s son. Steve was taken as a baby and sent across to the USA, Dmitri hoping to give him a better shot at life rather than to stay in Russia. Can you imagine in S4 when Dmitri follows Hopper back to Hawkins that he’s reunified with his son?

Everyone besides Steve is a Vampire and Steve is the last werewolf. Humans have hunted down Werewolves for centuries and the numbers have dwindled down severely, right down to almost extinction. Vampires are more adaptable and find it easy to survive in plain sight. The Party and everyone in their Coven have found sanctuary in Hawkins and for years, things have been normal. But then a new scent and sunshine of a boy comes along with it (after S1) — but his timing is seemingly the worst because now he’s facing off Demodogs as a giant wolf and no one knows who he truly is unless he shifted back as a human. In S1, he missed out on the excitement but he got to know and become close to everyone. But then in S2, he is faced with the existence of The Upside Down and vein revealed that his friends and found-family are in fact Vampires. Oh and Vecna is a boomer elder-vampire. Everyone in The Party does not know ANYTHING about Werewolves and so, they learn a lot from Steve when they finally know about him and vice versa. ;))

Another Werewolf Steve AU but this time, he’s hurt, while hunting in his wolf form, he was caught in a bear trap and found by Wayne. Inspired by How To Train Your Dragon scene, Wayne was about to mercifully kill the wolf, but looked into his eyes and saw himself. So he instead took it upon himself and take the wolf back and nurse it back to health. Eddie of course has no idea what his Uncle is hiding until he finds out and freaks out. But finds himself enamoured by the wolf too. Steve is so fucked because he needs to shift back soon, his body itches and the need to be human again nawed at his entire being.

Kali introduces the Punk Culture to Steve. They have a sibling pond and Steve loves his new self. Kali dyes his hair, shaves it a little on the side/s and helps picks out clothes and everything. The whole gang also educated him of the history, iconic figures and music. Just, Punk Steve means a lot to me. You can also imagine him and El bonding about it too. “Bitching.” Eddie is head over heels. Wait, is that a bloody hanky in his pants right back pocket?