#anyways i am almost done with season one

[cappiecarp]

qiao ling and cheng xiaoshi siblingism basically. i saw someone do this with Ivan and sua siblingism and if u squint really hard, spin around, and concuss yourself they kind of look similar.

[yeetusthemighty]

The creechur

The silly (crazy? I was crazy onc-)

So I got inspired to finally post this guy because of this post by @z4n3jul13n (cool person you should look at their stuff)

full version with my doodles under the cut

(I have a whole au based off of this guy)

[floral-hex]

woke up at 4am feeling the weight of my life crushing me, so I’ve been sitting out in my car for the last couple of hours because I just need. to. be. somewhere else.

[blunderpuff]

so i wasn't enthusiastic enough about the day's activities, i froze up when they put me on the spot and accusatorily asked "So what do you like [to do]/[to eat]?", my energy+participation levels waned exponentially as the day went on, and so now they're talking (loudly!) about me like there's something wrong with me :|

[kennys-parka-jacket]

So, um... would you guys still think im cool if i said that i havent seen every single episode yet

[mauv-the-bluest-cat-ever]

tripping balls as i am watching old mcyt videos

[harmonybarmy]

Dean angrily asking "haven't you ever read the bible?" like make me want your ass more I dare you.

[ectoplasmer]

judai screenshot dump because he is quickly taking over my gallery </3

[glimpsesofeuterpe]

since tmp s1 is 30 eps long and there are 3 seasons (or so they say?) does it mean tmp will be around 90-ish eps

[princessedesfleursss]

CS55E2

Pairing: carlos sainz x fem!wife!reader

Genre: smut

Warnings: morning sex

It was almost 6 in the morning. You had to get up to make breakfast for the kids and get them ready for school. Obviously the nanny was going to do it anyways but you always helped out despite your busy schedule. Today was one of those mornings where work started late into the afternoon so you had some morning time.

Despite your attempts to get yourself up from bed a hand held you down in place. Holding you close to a warm body. It was none other than your husband who was enjoying his holidays after the end of the season.

Trying to move away only made it worse for you as you felt your body being held even closer to the warm body behind you.

“Mi amor trying to get me horny early in the morning?” Questioned a raspy voice to your ear.

You shuddered at his words and as you felt his now erection press against your back you groaned.

“Carlos not today. I have to get the kids ready for school.”

“But baby you still have time no?” He asked manhandling you to turn around to face him.

You smiled when your eyes met his sleepy ones. His voice gave away his unawake form but his features told you otherwise. With sun rays beaming across his tanned skin, glowing his brown eyes Carlos looked ethereal in front of you. You let your fingers run through his thick locks that you and his fans equally adored as Carlos moved forward to kiss the exposed skin on your shoulder. Making sure to suck on a certain spot to leave a mark and earning a small whimper from you in the process.

After he was done marking you he grabbed your face with a hand and pulled you in for a kiss. Your hands swept across his bare chest as you felt his heartbeat beneath your palm. He kissed you so passionately making you completely awake and aroused.

Right after he was done kissing you and placing smooches all across your face to let you know how much he adored you the alarm on your phone went off. You turned around to off it and got off of bed right after that.

But Carlos was much faster and moved across the bed, while making sure the blanket was still covering his lower torso, to grab hold of your hand.

“Cariño don’t leave me here alone,” he begged giving you his signature puppy eyes.

You laughed looking at him and pointing at the clock, “Hello? The kids need to go to school. Are you even a dad?”

With a hard tug he pulled you to the bed and on top of him, “Yes I am a dad but before that I am your husband”

With a cheeky smile he looked up at you. Messy bed hair and a silk gown that barely managed to cover you up as you lay on top of him.

You looked down at him in awe. How lucky you were to have him as your man. You let your fingers gently glide across his chest and traced patterns on his prominent facial features. You felt his erection harden underneath you for the second time. Smiling you leaned down to kiss him ever so passionately. Your tongues moved against each other in fiery passion and his hands rubbed your arms radiating goosebumps all over your body.

Quickly you slipped yourself under the blanket. Your naked core touched his erection which drove you crazy. Kneeling up and aligning yourself you looked at him for a signal and pushed yourself down in one go. An uncontrollable moan slipped out of your lips which you managed to tone down. You took him in slowly and took him nearly out slowly. With your hands against his chest you rode him taking all of him as deep as you could take and lifting yourself up to push yourself down and do it all over again. This went for a couple strokes until Carlos got impatient and was aware about the time.

Pushing his knees up to cradle your back against his thighs and pulling your upper body into him he thrusted hard into you making you almost scream with the simultaneous pleasure and pain which strung though you.

“I need you to be a good wife and take what I’m going to give you alright. Because we’re running out of time”

You whined as he pushed his hips inside of you, rutting into your core at a hard pace. His hands was gripping your hips at a bruising manner pushing you into him. You tried muffling your moans into his pillow as your hands tugged at his lucious locks. A few grunts later he came undone just as you did.

Carlos dropped his legs flat on to the bed and hugged you closer to him letting your mixed cum not leak out of your bruised hole. You lifted your tired head up and kissed him sloppily. Just then you felt his erection start to stir up again.

Shaking your head with a laugh you pushed yourself off of his and limped off to the bathroom throwing a mom like remark at him,

“Not again horny boy”

To which Carlos simply chuckled.

[astarriscus]

hi besties !!!!! i might write for a lot more fandoms soon. if i do get to, you know, actually writing soon.

[emo-batboy]

Things Battinson Totally Did During His First Year of University

Using Unhinged or Odd Things I Also Did as a College Freshman :D

Note: for this list, let’s believe Bruce was living in an (admittedly expensive and swanky) dorm because it is required for first-years, especially those entering at a young age, and Alfred told him he needed to make friends. Also yes I did every single thing on this list. I never claimed to be a role model

Bruce, to his TA: I’m so sorry I’m late to class. I gave blood a few hours ago and almost fainted on the way here, but it won’t happen again.

Signs up for a class called “Age of Dinosaurs” despite it not being required whatsoever and proceeds to work his entire schedule around it

Bruce: Your mental health is super important. If you think you should see the on-campus therapist, go see them. Friend: Fine. I’ll sign up for therapy if you sign up for therapy too. Bruce: Hold on-

Finds a loophole in his housing contract that allows him to get a pet frog, calls him kermit :)

Gets a second frog because Kermit was lonely, names it Constantine after Muppets Most Wanted, then realizes that they’re gay for each other. Wonders if the rainbow-colored rocks he got them triggered anything

Swings dramatically between calling Alfred every single day and ghosting him for weeks, cries when he realizes what he did

“Accidentally” joins the student body council, doesn’t know what he’s doing, gets re-elected anyway

Molds a dragon out of Laffy Taffy instead of doing his work

Bruce: *joins Honors, gets all A’s, takes the max amount of classes, has several minors, overachieves* Also Bruce: I’m a failure.

Breaks into a building after hours to study because NO ONE KNOWS HOW TO SHUT THE FUCK UP AT THE LIBRARY

Bruce: I will not get seasonal depression this year. Bruce: *gets real and seasonal depression that year*

Meticulously schedules his day with a color-coded planner because if he sits down for too long, the thoughts will consume him

Gives a presentation to his rhetoric class on how much he likes Spider-Man: Into the Spiderverse (it is 20 minutes long)

Successfully allocates funding from the student body council to pay for free feminine products in the dorms OUT OF SPITE because someone said it couldn't be done. fuck you, Andrew

Bruce: It is not an all-nighter if I go to sleep before my first class. Friend: It is 7:30am, the sun is in the sky, and your first class is at 12:30. Bruce: But I am getting sleep.

Refuses to go anywhere without his backpack because what if he needs three notebooks at once

Loses over 20 pounds because ✨stress✨ and scares the shit out of Alfred when he comes home for Thanksgiving

Argues with his TA over the one (1) question he got wrong on his Dinosaur exam

Bruce, calling Alfred: Hello father figure. How do I do taxes? Do I have to do them myself? Also, I think I’m having a panic attack.

Joins in on a charity arts-and-crafts project that gives kids books with matching activities made by volunteers, proceeds to commandeer the project because “it’s not color-blind friendly” and rewrites the instructions for everyone

Makes a murder wall

Goes to one (1) sports game and proceeds to leave in the first ten minutes because it’s way too loud wtf is wrong with people

Professor, addressing the lecture hall: I dare you to write an essay about these two sentences. Bruce: *writes an essay about six words, gets a 100, never even read the book*

Crawls into the ceiling for some alone time

Ghosts someone after a date because he’s too scared to tell them he didn’t know it was a date in the first place and now he feels bad

Classmate: How tf does he walk across campus that fast? I go in the same direction he does on my bike, and he’s always ahead of me. Bruce: *is gay sprinting to Dinosaur class*

Refuses to let others use his Favorite Pen TM

Constantly gets mistaken for a Grad Student because he is “so wise and mature” (bestie, that’s the autism)

Alfred: *casually mentions he got into a car accident through text* Bruce: *replies with a meme while hyperventilating because he doesn’t know what to do with that information??!*

Wears a suit to one of his finals

Regularly eats non-organic food for the first time in his life, proceeds to learn about several allergies Alfred forgot to mention he has

Writes “What is a Hot Pocket?” in calligraphy and proceeds to laugh his ass off alone in his dorm because he is so exhausted he’s reached the point of delusion

Locks himself out of his dorm right before class, frantically asks the floor group chat if someone can help, proceeds to tell the nice gay man on the floor who saved him “I love you” because his social skills have hit rock bottom

Makes a little music album display next to his desk for his favorite band (Nirvana) His friends call it a shrine, and they are technically correct

Has a blacklist of people he refuses to interact with because Reasons

Counselor: What do you want to do when you graduate? Bruce: *gestures vaguely*

Refuses to take the bus because there are people in there and he doesn’t like those

Loses one of his frogs, how tf did he do that, they’re fully aquatic, oh fuck, this is probably why they got rid of that loophole a year later because unbeknownst to Bruce, he accidentally started a frog revolution in the dorms, btw he SWEARS he did not mean to do that

Has two trash cans in his room: one for the Good Garbage, and one for the Bad Garbage. Only Bruce knows which is which

Bruce: *writes a creative piece about a ship’s final thoughts as it sinks, bringing its passengers down with it* TA: Absolutely lovely, Bruce, but are you okay?

Goes on Night Walks, keeps himself safe by maintaining a level 12 resting bitch face at all times

Earns the nickname “8th floor cryptid” after pacing the halls at 3am when it’s too cold for Night Walks (honestly tho how tf didn’t he get the nickname earlier?)

Bruce: Do you think a depressed person could do this? Bruce: *has a manic episode*

Okay that's all love you BYE

[luveline]

hi love! i absolutely adore ur writing and u should be so so proud of it. anyway i was just thinking about coworker james when readers car wont start in the parking lot and he like takes a look at it and is under the hood and reader is just like "oh...😍" cause the muscles are OUT and shes down bad

ty lovely 💌 fem

“Oh,” you say, “of course.” 

You drop your face into your steering wheel and sigh. An annoyed burst of sound, not cute or feminine or fun, a grunt of defeat. This sucks. Work sucks, life sucks, your car not starting is the least of your worries and yet somehow the most prevalent. 

How am I gonna get home? you think to yourself, defeated.

“Hey!” someone calls. Jogging, the last person you want to see in the world right now stopping at your door. James frowns at you. “It’s not starting?” 

You pop your door, careful not to pop him at the same time. “How’d you know?” 

“I heard the engine turn over.”

“It’s making a clicking sound,” you say, twisting the key so he can hear it. 

“It’s dead, probably. Your battery.”

James has an odd way of talking occasionally, as though you’ve started a conversation and he’s adding onto it. Remus says it's ADHD. You like it no matter what it is and despite yourself —it’s getting harder to pretend you don’t like him. Like, you hate him, he’s annoying beyond explanation, but your more positive feelings for him are heavy and ever present. So, so heavy.

“I’ll pull my car up and we can give it a jumpstart,” he says. “Easy fix.” 

“You don’t have to go?” 

“What?” 

“You have rugby today.” 

“Oh, no, it's the off season now.” He smiles and you don’t get why. “Let me go get the car.” 

James jogs back to his car and brings it next to yours. Everybody who isn’t Human Resources or security has left already, leaving the car park practically empty, ample room for him to park beside you. He gets back out. 

“I don’t have, uh, cables,” you say.

James gives you a smile that is as patronising as it is attractive. “Don’t worry about it, beautiful. I have everything you need.” 

He feels along the edge of your hood, pops the seal, pushes it up into the air, and hooks the prop rod into place. He’s clearly done it before, and the whole while you’re watching his arm. His rolled sleeves draw attention to the tightness at his bicep, and the moving ligament and muscle of his tricep as he leans into the engine to look things over. “I’m no mechanic, but I do know everything, and I thought maybe things were a bit hot but your engine’s stone cold.” 

“So it’s definitely the battery?” 

“Probably.” He scratches his jaw, peering curiously into the guts of it all. “When was the last time somebody looked in here?” he asks, squinting at you, unaware that he’s the finest thing you’ve ever seen. 

Your breath gets caught. 

“Have you ever had it looked at?” he asks, concerned. 

“I… maybe I did. I think so.” 

“You’re supposed to have it looked at every year? For MOT?” 

“I know, I thought you meant before that.” He’s distracting.

James looks you over. “It’s fine,” he says emphatically, “even if I can’t fix your battery, I can still drive you home. You’re panicking for no reason.” 

“Right.” Panicking! Yes, this is panic.

“Listen, can you get the jump leads from my boot? I have to open the hood.” He gestures for you to go. You do as he’s asked, wobbly, and struggle when you get there to actually open it. You slides your fingers under his car's emblem and flinch as it flies up past your face. 

His boot is surprisingly well organised. There’s a duffel bag to one side half-zipped that showcases a flash of red and white uniform, a pair of formal shoes, a dark jacket folded and hidden behind the bag. You want to be nosey and you don’t want him to think you’re stupid. You rush to grab the cables and almost clip yourself on the boot as you duck from under the boot and round the car. 

James smiles when he sees you. No indication that you’re an imposition, it’s sort of like you’re two friends. 

He pushes his sleeves farther up and digs in. It’s awful, what business does he have looking so sharply put together? You hadn’t thought you were preferential to muscle until right this moment watching James move around your engine like an expert. 

“What are your plans tonight?” 

Your palms are hot behind your back. “I was thinking I’d watch a new movie.” 

“That sounds fun.” He ducks away from the engine. “I don’t watch many movies.”

“What do you do with all your time?” 

“Argue with Sirius about who’s turn it is to wash the dishes.” 

You startle. “You and Sirius live together?” 

James laughs and pulls the leads to his own engine. “You didn’t know that?” 

“You come in different cars.” 

“I come in much earlier than he does. And after work he and Remus always have things to do. It’s weird, isn’t it, how couples are always busy? I feel like I never do anything.” James grins at you. “This is interesting, at least. My Friday night isn’t a total waste.” 

James gets into his car and you into yours. With some fiddling, pleading, and a strange noise, he manages to push life back into your car. His smile when it works is his worst one to date, elated and shockingly handsome. 

That Monday, against your better judgement, you bring him a little carrot cake in a tin. A thank you card felt like too much. 

To his credit, he doesn’t brag to anyone that he saved you. He says thank you for the cake with another real smile, and for some reason, despite the mild weather, he rolls his sleeves up at his desk. Almost like he noticed you…

Well, he couldn’t have. Right?

[ozai-the-bonsai]

Could you write for Daemon targaryen like currently after all those nightmares in harnehal he finds a prisoner of harnehal as the only person who brings him peace him falling in love with her and trying to be better person he still fights for team black obviously rahaenya is definitely not happy with these arrangements especially seeing him all dedicated all in love some things he never have done for her but she have no option currently rather accepting his second wife though at the end when team black would be winning and fight at harnehal like aemond Vs Daemon she ask for reader's head happy ending at the end please or anything you wanna write I just wanna see Daemon happy in love at end please

Finally I have time for my hobbies again! Sorry I left you waiting for ages, this term the exam season was tougher than what I have been accustomed to… Anyways, I have started writing some stuff and I wanted to post the intro instead of writing a full-length chapter 1 since it would have taken a couple more days (:

As a side note, I honestly have no idea where this story will be headed because I have no clear course planned, I had some little ideas and I just started writing them. Also I will be introducing stuff which is not in the asoiaf universe.

I am continuing to read Silmarillion from where I left off and let’s say the ideas about Daemon’s love interest are… inspired from what I have been reading (; Enjoy!

Memento Mori

| Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 |

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x fem!reader

Warnings: strong language, I am not a native English speaker, reader is (or will be) described with long hair

This is a very short introduction! Also the chapter is from Daemon’s pov. The title is inspired by Memento Mori by Lamb of God (the song has been a great inspiration for the story so far)

The dungeons of Harrenhal were cold, wet and lonely.

He had no idea when, how and why he had gone down there – one moment, he was in his chambers and the next, he was opening his eyes to the mossy stone walls of the dark dungeons with a torch in his hand. The line between dreams and reality was becoming thinner each day he spent in this cursed castle.

As Daemon walked past the empty cells, he tried to shake off this unsettling feeling lingering around him, dancing on his neck on its tippy toes, making him wonder whether he was indeed alone.

I doubt Simon Strong keeps prisoners down here, he thought while wiping the water from his forehead which was dripping from the broken ceiling. Maybe he has decided to lock up the witch?

Just when the Rogue Prince – correction, the King Consort – was about to turn back and leave the depressing, humid and somewhat eerie atmosphere of the dungeons behind, a soft humming reached his ears.

A soft, sweet humming of a song coming from one of the cells at the very end of the darkness.

“What kind of prisoner is Simon Strong hiding here?” Daemon asked, his voice created echoes as he waved the torch in front of him, trying to cast some light.

The humming stopped immediately, as if the sound itself was cut by a knife.

Daemon’s purple eyes widened upon seeing that the last cell was indeed not empty.

There was a young woman inside, looking at him with her eyes full of curiosity. Her hair had an unearthly shine under the dim moonlight. She tilted her head to the side. “You can see me?” She asked, it was the same soft voice from a moment ago, though the sweetness was no longer there to be felt.

Daemon raised an eyebrow at her direction. “Do people not see you?”

The young woman shook her head, her movements – no matter how simple they were – felt almost too harmonious. “Not normally, it is not intended that I am seen.” Stopping for a moment, she eyed Daemon from head to foot. “You are not really here, are you?”

The raised eyebrow quickly turned into a frown. “What do you mean? I am standing in front of you.”

She shook her head once again. As her soft whisper filled his eyes, Daemon started falling into the nothingness, again, for the unknown-th time ever since he had come to Harrenhal.

“Wake up.”

***

When he woke up, trying to catch his breath, Daemon found himself lying on his bed, as always. Anytime he had one of those weird dreams – he wasn’t even sure if he should call them dreams anymore – his consciousness would find its way back to his bed.

Unless he was daydreaming, which were considerably the worse.

“Who the fuck was that weird woman?” Daemon muttered to himself as he stood up, dressing up in his regular robes. The feeling in his stomach was telling him that he had to go down there, to the dungeons, to find that woman. If he were to wait until dawn, he feared she might be gone.

What was it that she said again? It is not intended she is seen?

Leaving his chambers with a torch in his right hand, Daemon shook his head to the thoughts flowing through his mind, causing his silver hair to move. “Weird woman,” he muttered to himself as he walked through the dark corridors of the castle with haste. “She somehow reminds me of the witch.”

The dungeons were as dark and wet as he remembered from the dream. A cold wind was wandering besides him, kissing the mossy walls and licking Daemon’s skin, sometimes whispering wicked words in his ears. Even the wind was odd here, in Harrenhal, but he had somewhat got used to it – hearing its eerie whispers whenever he walked alone during the hour of the wolf.

“Show yourself,” Daemon spoke with a strong voice which created echoes as he stood in front of that very cell from his dream. “Your king commands it!”

“Huh, king?” The same soft voice answered from the dark corner of her cell. The moonlight had left its shining spot, leaving the torch in Daemon’s hands as the only source of light in this entire corridor of the dungeons. “I answer to no king.”

A condescending scoff left Daemon’s lips as he came closer to the bars made of steel, separating him and the weird woman. “You do live in Westros, do you not?” Daemon asked, not really waiting for an answer. “As long as you breathe in this land, you do answer to the King.”

A chuckle came from the darkness. “I have been breathing in this land before your ancestors flew across the Narrow Sea, Daemon Targaryen.”

Taglist: @throughgoeshamilton @mirandastuckinthe80s @xicesam @mariamyousef702 @eddiemadmunson @dont-try-pesticide @sweetybuzz25 @hc-geralt-23 @schniiipsel @ttae-yong @syrma-sensei @asiludida164 @kaitieskidmore1 @irmavanity-blog @pax-2735 @trickrtreatart @shanzeyxsyed @random-human02 @scarwicht @xcallmetaniax @instabull @niiight-dreamerrrr @my-dark-prince @stargaryenx @abaker74 @babywolff @sonnensplitter @bi-narystars @softtina @sadmonke @avalyaaa

[inkskinned]

i'm used to it, and how bad it is, and how often it's so bad that it rings like a bell inside of me, drowning out everything around me. and the truth is that i get frustrated with myself about it - again? we're like this still? again? it's not that i feel weak, precisely. it's just this sense almost like - i've already been pushing against this thing for years now, shouldn't i have gained more ground?

i get frustrated because i'm sick of picking up the loose ends every six months. i get frustrated because it's always this same shit, same problem - i lose myself in a matter of months; spiral out of control, lose touch with friends and loved ones. i stop taking care of myself and therapy gets hard and i let everything around me wilt and shrivel and fall off; start somehow both sleeping too much and not-enough. i panic-attack and cry in my car in a target parking lot, pulling my hair out and hurting my ribs from sobbing so hard - and later, when i'm better, i'm embarrassed because how could i let it get that far?

it feels like - i already have done this so many times. isn't there a way out of it? isn't there a point where i've just... won? that it never happens again, that i just get to be done? maybe this is weakness, i guess - that i still (so often!) succumb.

i am used to it, so i forget exactly how hard it gets. do you even know how many times i've laid in bed, exhausted, blank and numb and listless and said - i can't anymore. i just can't. i'm not even really upset. it's okay. i've been here long enough. so much of my life was beautiful.... i'm just... done.

do you know how many times i woke up and i said - i can't and put my feet on the floor and said i can't, i don't want to and took a shower and walked the dog and bought myself fresh bread and put a nice playlist on and said i really can't, there's no end to this and i went to work and i called a friend and i made myself cookies even if food tasted like ashes and decided that i really should wait for the new album from that artist i love and i thought i can't, it's not worth it and then i washed my hands and cut my hair and drank more water and wrote a poem and signed up for an art class at the local community college and said i can't, i can't, i won't do this again, and i paid my rent and let the dishes rot in the sink but still made myself eat anything fresh even if it meant overdrawing my account on a stupid bag of plums just because they looked delicious and do you know how often i closed my eyes and thought this is it i really fucking can't, something has to give and i have nothing left that it can take and then i went to bed and i got up and i fucking survived anyway

yesterday the local ice cream place opened up for the first time this season and they were giving out tiny samples of their new dairy-free options and i tried a mango sorbet. three months ago i was positive that februrary was going to be my last month on the planet. i am teaching my dog a new trick and i just discovered a new band i love. i got a plant from the clearance aisle and repotted her and she's been perking up. i made salmon for alison and we ate it in her new house with her new beautiful baby girl. my manager told me he keeps recommending my work to others just because i always include a stupid number of puns. tomorrow i'm trying a new dance class. tomorrow i'm maybe going to buy more plums.

i forget, you know? it's not some bone-deep strength or some magical power. it's that some part of me knows - i need to stay. in all of this; out of all of this - i just want to choose love.

[solarmorrigan]

Everybody's Dying to Be Here

For the @steddie-spooktober day 12 prompt: Graveyard Rated: T | Words: 1561 | CW: suicidal thoughts (vague; you don't necessarily have to take it that way) | Tags: pre-relationship, Steve Harrington and Eddie Munson friendship, Steve Harrington needs a hug, Eddie Munson is a sweetheart, in his own way, post-season 2 AU Divider credit: @steddiecameraroll-graphics

Eddie has been coming to the graveyard to smoke for years.

It’s not really that he can’t smoke at the trailer; his uncle knows he smokes, has bummed cigarettes off of him before, says he figures there are worse habits for Eddie to pick up, it's just that it’s peaceful there.

There are hardly ever people around, and if there are, they’re not really inclined to talk. Otherwise, there’s a lot of open air, room to walk, green grass, interesting headstones if Eddie’s in the mood to look, and there’s a tree that sits at the top of a gentle slope of a hill that offers a nice view of the surrounding town that can almost make Eddie forget how much he hates the place.

It’s Eddie’s own personal haven.

At least, he'd thought it was.

“You’re in my spot,” Eddie says, staring down at the interloper.

Steve Harrington, who is sitting on top of Eddie’s hill, under Eddie’s tree, turns his battered face up towards Eddie, squinting at him in the sunlight.

“Are you dead?” Steve finally asks.

It’s Eddie’s turn to stare, uncomprehending, at Steve. “Nooo,” he says slowly. “Are you concussed?”

Steve holds up his forefinger and thumb, pinched together to indicate a little bit, and it’s been almost two weeks since he first showed up at school looking like someone had tried to turn his face into mincemeat, the bruising now all sickly yellow and brown, and Eddie realizes he has no idea how long concussions last. A while, apparently.

“Anyway, if you’re not dead, I don’t think you can have a spot in the cemetery,” Steve says with a shrug, and–

Well.

“Touché,” Eddie says, plopping down next to Steve beneath the tree.

He pulls his cigarettes out, shakes one from the box, and then, because his uncle didn’t raise a complete savage, he tilts the box at Steve in offering. Steve begs off with a shake of his head and Eddie shrugs, lighting up and taking a drag.

“So,” he says on his first breath of smoke, “what brings King Steve out among Hawkins’ illustrious dead?”

For one, long minute, Steve says nothing, and just when Eddie thinks he’s being ignored, Steve lets his head fall back against the tree and murmurs, “Just wanted somewhere quiet to be, I guess.”

“Oh? The life of partying royalty getting to be a bit much for you?” Eddie asks.

He knows he isn’t being entirely fair; Steve’s never really done anything to Eddie, personally, and for the latter half of last year and the beginning of this one, he’s actually been pretty decent. Fairly quiet, if nothing else, mostly hanging off of Nancy Wheeler and keeping his head down. In any case, Steve doesn’t seem to take offense, just lets out a little breath of unamused laughter and continues staring out over the town.

“Kinda realized that most of the people I used to party with were dicks, and I didn’t want to be around them anymore,” he says. “Nance– she and I aren’t… together anymore, so I can’t really hang out with her. My dad’s still pissed at me for getting into a fight, so I can’t stay home. The twelve-year-old who thinks I’m responsible for him now is actually cool, but god he can be loud, and I just wanted some quiet, so… here I am.”

There’s… a lot to unpack there. Like, so much to unpack. Eddie has questions. Many questions.

Somehow, though, he doesn’t think his prying would be appreciated, so all he offers is, “Damn. Scraping the bottom of the barrel, then, huh? Hanging out with the school freak.”

“To be fair, I didn’t actually know you’d be out here,” Steve says, sending Eddie a sidelong smirk to let him in on the joke. “Didn’t know I was stealing your spot, either.”

Because Eddie can hardly be mad at him for it now, he just shrugs. “Eh. It’s a free graveyard. I think.” Eddie pauses, blinking down at the headstones spread out before them. “Damn, do you think you have to pay to be buried? That’d be fucked up.”

“I have no idea,” Steve says. “Pretty sure you have to pay for a tombstone, at least.”

“Shit. Society, man.” Eddie shakes his head. “Finding ways to squeeze money out of you even after death.”

“I guess,” Steve says vaguely.

He doesn’t really seem like he’s interested in continuing the conversation, and Eddie guesses that’s fair enough. He’d come out here expecting to be alone, and Eddie had come out expecting the same. He’s not even sure why he’s trying to engage Steve Harrington in conversation at all, except that there’s something a little– lost about him right now, and that’s always drawn Eddie in like a cat to a sunbeam.

That doesn’t mean Steve actually needs him, though, so Eddie lets them both lapse into silence.

He’s just about finished his cigarette when Steve speaks again, almost startling Eddie.

“D’you ever think about where you’d want to be buried?” Steve asks.

“What, like when I die?” Eddie asks, feeling a little slow to pick up on this new turn Steve’s taken them down.

“Yeah,” Steve says.

“Uh… hopefully far away from the shithole,” Eddie says, stubbing his cigarette out in the dirt beside him. “I want to get the hell out of here before I die.”

Steve hums. “Bet you will,” he says after a moment, and that surprises Eddie even more than his original morbid question.

“You figure?” Eddie says, and he’s trying for sarcastic, but he thinks something genuine might have snuck its way into his tone.

“Sure.” Steve shrugs. “You’re ambitious. You’ve gotta be some kind of smart, all those speeches you’re always giving. You want it badly enough, I bet you’ll get out of here.”

“I think the Hawkins Public School system would beg to differ with you on most of those points, Steve,” Eddie says, and Steve shrugs.

“Fuck ‘em, then,” he says simply, and that’s–

In its own, weird way, it’s more faith than anyone other than his uncle has shown in Eddie in what seems like a long time, and Eddie’s not sure how to feel about it.

Steve, oblivious to the way he’s currently shaking Eddie’s worldview, goes on. “I think I want to be buried over there,” he says, pointing to a spot on the west end of the graveyard.

“Near the fence?” Eddie asks, following Steve’s finger.

“Yeah. Looks nice over there. Not too crowded, and there’s roses. Or, I think that’s a rose bush.” Steve squints down at the shrubbery for a moment before shrugging. “Whatever. It just looks nice.”

“I guess,” Eddie says slowly, turning to look at Steve, who doesn’t look back.

“I should probably tell someone,” Steve says, almost as if he’s talking to himself now. “My parents would probably pick somewhere stupid to stick me.”

And– shit.

It doesn’t really sound like Steve’s talking about some hypothetical future time when he dies of old age; it sounds an awful lot more like he doesn’t even expect to outlive his parents – like maybe he’s talking about a much less hypothetical soon.

“You, uh… spend a lot of time thinking about when you’re gonna die?” Eddie asks, and immediately wishes he could suck the words back up, because that is a terrible way to continue this conversation.

Steve shrugs, turning a wry look on Eddie. “Kinda hard not to.”

“Right. Right.” Eddie nods, and – what the fuck?

What the fuck? Is he talking about everything that’s happened recently – all the weird shit in town, or the way he keeps getting his ass kicked, or the way his life has imploded and now he’s thinking about–

“So what’s your plan for the rest of the day?” Eddie blurts out.

“I don’t really have one.” Steve shrugs. “Figured I’d just stay out here for a while.”

Eddie frowns. They’re well into November by now; Steve is wearing a nicer coat than Eddie’s, but it’s still cold out. Too cold to just be sitting outside indefinitely. Eddie’s certainly not going to sit outside indefinitely, but he also gets the feeling that maybe this guy shouldn’t be left alone right now, which is precisely why he finds himself offering, “You wanna come back to mine and watch a movie?”

Steve turns to stare at Eddie, as if this is the weirdest part of the conversation they’ve had.

“Why?” Steve asks.

“Maybe I’m bored, and you’re the most interesting thing that’s happened to me all day,” Eddie says, gratified when Steve gives him a little laugh. “It’s more fun watching a movie with someone, anyway. What d’you say?”

Steve watches him for a moment longer, as if he’s searching for something, trying to puzzle Eddie out. He seems to find whatever it is he’s looking for, though, because he finally nods.

“Yeah, okay.”

They stand from beneath the tree and make their way back down the hill, and Eddie hopes his utter confusion isn’t showing on his face as they go. He has no idea how his afternoon reached this point, and he has even less of an idea of what the hell he’s doing, but, as he glances back at Steve, the other boy seems a little lighter as they walk, and he decides that he’s absolutely made the right decision.