you might love me too?”
.
Out here steddiefying conan gray songs forever and ever 😤💖
#steddie #steveharrington #eddiemunson
you might love me too?”
.
Out here steddiefying conan gray songs forever and ever 😤💖
#steddie #steveharrington #eddiemunson
He’s not.
He’s suffering the consequences of his first concussion: migraines, light sensitivity. He refuses to tell anyone.
He’s not.
He’s suffering the consequences of his first concussion: migraines, light sensitivity. He refuses to tell anyone.
Complications from injuries he sustained during the earthquake, they’re told. Apparently, he’d died a hero.
The memorial is a somber affair — they always are when someone dies much +
Complications from injuries he sustained during the earthquake, they’re told. Apparently, he’d died a hero.
The memorial is a somber affair — they always are when someone dies much +
🤐⚖️
🤐⚖️
They manage to get him out and hide him at the far end of
They manage to get him out and hide him at the far end of
Eddie is not amused.
He’s breathing very slowly through his mouth, and staring at Steve with eyes wide enough to use as dinner plates.
Hopper is not typing anything. Steve glances at the typewriter. Hop leans back.
Hop asks, “Pardon?”
“Can I help you, young man?” Florence asks.
“Good morning, ma’am,” Steve says, walking right past her desk. He smiles at her winningly, hoping it’s enough to put aside any questions.
“Dude, stop!” Dustin yells as he crashes through the door.
“He’s going to tell them /what/?
“Steve, look,” Dustin says, with all of the exasperated candor of a parent, “it’s not like he has a choice.”
“Like /hell/ he doesn’t!” Steve shouts, and, sucking his teeth,
Eddie is not amused.
He’s breathing very slowly through his mouth, and staring at Steve with eyes wide enough to use as dinner plates.
Hopper is not typing anything. Steve glances at the typewriter. Hop leans back.
Hop asks, “Pardon?”
“He’s going to tell them /what/?
“Steve, look,” Dustin says, with all of the exasperated candor of a parent, “it’s not like he has a choice.”
“Like /hell/ he doesn’t!” Steve shouts, and, sucking his teeth,
“He’s going to tell them /what/?
“Steve, look,” Dustin says, with all of the exasperated candor of a parent, “it’s not like he has a choice.”
“Like /hell/ he doesn’t!” Steve shouts, and, sucking his teeth,
Steve looked up from Eddie’s worn copy of The Two Towers, brow wrinkled in confusion. Eddie’s tone was annoyed — but not angry. Steve tried wracking his brain if he forgot to run an errand for Eddie or if he left wet clothes in the washer again. “What do you mean, Ed?”
Steve looked up from Eddie’s worn copy of The Two Towers, brow wrinkled in confusion. Eddie’s tone was annoyed — but not angry. Steve tried wracking his brain if he forgot to run an errand for Eddie or if he left wet clothes in the washer again. “What do you mean, Ed?”
The one thing no one knows about Steve Harrington is how he bottles it up. How he never shows it—even when he really fucking wants to. He quiets, nods along, politely declines, till it's the dead of night and he can drive into the old junkyard, baseball bat in his trunk.
The one thing no one knows about Steve Harrington is how he bottles it up. How he never shows it—even when he really fucking wants to. He quiets, nods along, politely declines, till it's the dead of night and he can drive into the old junkyard, baseball bat in his trunk.