when you take into account that I was battling severe brain fog for much of the Pandemic Lockdown Years that seriously hindered my ability to write complete sentences for a big chunk of the time... well, I just gotta say, I actually managed to put some darn amazing Utterson/Jekyll oneshots out there back then.
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They learn quickly that the monsters are sensitive to sound.
He gets used to talking quietly. To always watch his step and always be aware of his surroundings. Someone had the idea to raid the schools and communicate exclusively using blackboard and chalk. Hawkins has never been so silent, but that doesn't bother him too much. He grew up in the silence, after all.
What bothers him is that his hands won't stop trembling. He never had the prettiest handwriting, but the chicken scratch he produces now is barely readable. Worse, he needs for-fucking-ever to write even a single word, only for it to not even look like english half the time.
He and Robin can communicate without words - he is truly convinced that they are living proof that soulmates are a thing - but with everyone else he has to struggle with the chalk, until he just gives up and starts talking less and less. If he died because he took too long writing smalltalk or pleasantries on the blackboard he would never live it down. He tries to convince himself that the grizzled-cool-silent-type suits him. With moderate success.
Although the whole town was literally transported into a different dimension, all adults seem to maintain a silent agreement to continue on as if nothing is wrong. They still go to work and they still need to pay for groceries and the holes and cracks in the streets are nothing more than inconveniences. He even overhears someone complaining about those, once. As if everything would be fine if the holes were only filled with cement. (oh gee, he wonders - silently as always, why did we never try that genius idea the last three times the upside down made an unwelcome visit). The only shop that has escaped the clutches of capitalism is the weapons shop.
He can somewhat understand it, the need to pretend that everything is fine. That it was all some collective nightmare that will fade with the dullness of day-to-day life. Doesn't mean he can't hate it. Though he doesn't take it as hard as the rest of the party.
It makes sense if you think about it. Robin, Nancy, the shitheads - they are smart, they could all actually go somewhere, do something with their lives. But him? Steve Harrington never had much of a future anyway, and his chances of making it out of this godforsaken town were always miniscule. No. What honestly bothers him more are his hands that won't stop shaking. You can't use a gun if you are unable to hold still and aim. You have a harder time being fast and quiet when everything takes twice as long if you don't want to drop anything. Even his beloved bat becomes less reliable, the swings weaker and his actual target always a few centimeters off. So yeah, his trembling hands are fucking inconvenient.
Gas and Water and Electricity stopped working. The first few months all of Hawkins stinks of rotting food until some teacher has the grandiose idea of distributing history books. This has the added bonus of giving everyone something to do that isn't "pretending not to be under constant panic". Water filters get classified under "weaponry" so that everyone has access without the mayor having to change the law again.
Once more, he doesn't mind too much. The only reason he used to turn on the TV was to feel less alone, and now the rest of the party basically lives in his house. He doesn't even mind having to walk the entire way to and from the lake while carrying buckets full of water: he will always be a jock at heart, and it is a great way to work out and be useful at the same time. His biggest complaint is once again his fucking hands. Water is precious, but his stupid arm won't stay still and it keeps spilling out of the bucket. Every lost drip feels like a stab in his heart, and the only reason he doesn't cry is because that would be an even bigger waste of water.
But the most stupid and embarrassing part is that this isn't even his first rodeo. He has been here before, he knows what it is like. Everyone else is living the same situations that he is. And still, his hands are the only ones that won't fucking stop trembling.
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if i was still a poet i might hv been able to do smth more poignant with this but i think the thing is tht like yk how ghosts are dead with unfinished business n tht's why they're so unhappy etc n like yeah 17 yh old me is a ghost killed before time due to pandemic lockdown occuring a few weeks b4 i turned 18 so they're trapped and they're unhappy n idk but i guess i may one day figure out how to get them the peace they need but until then or myb forever i will live with this hurt dead being inside of me and most days it doesnt particularly hurt it's just a constant weight ive grown accustomed to n myb truthfully im too attached to let it go as well but also some days she rises up n riots n throws around the furniture and punches holes in the wall and the pain is greater then but i still wont let her go bc she's me and she's just a little kid and she deserved better
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