#idk if I like this but I’m posting it anyway so I don’t have to look at it anymore

[munsster]

hey girl!! so i was rewatching season 3 and saw the part where max and eleven are playing the spin the bottle and spying on people and had an idea! what if the reader is babysitting them and the girls drag her in to play and they spin in on steve, so she’s like “alright that’s enough” bc she doesn’t want to invade on her friends privacy but she sits through it anyway, and she hears him talking to robin about how much he likes her and wants to ask her out. IDK i thought that was cute :))

don’t hate the game

A/N: UR SO RIGHT THIS IS SO CUTE. I’m so glad i FINALLYYY found motivation to tackle it <3 (gif creds: @buckysbarnes)

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

Summary: The girls convince you to play an embarrassing party game from your past. It’s nothing like you remember. 2.4k words

Warnings: pet names (sweetheart, honey), ‘like’, overthinking, implied bullying, stupid pining, insecurity

It's a Friday night in the middle of summer, and you're wondering how you got here. Well, actually you're in your living room, so it's not that great of a mystery, but more confusing than that, you're letting two adolescent girls teach you how to play spin the bottle. If someone had told you at graduation that this is where you'd end up, you'd laugh right in their face.

Who's laughing now.

"But!" Max says, "if you hadn't noticed, none of these people are in the room, so how would we kiss them?"

You fight the urge to sink into your seat, blithely nodding and avoiding anything that might alienate you from your younger counterparts. You're almost sorry you surrendered your night to babysit two capable teens, but you promised El's dad who promised to pay you handsomely. Plus, they seem to like you enough to find you cool. Enough to tell you teenage secrets and complain about their boyfriends.

As they're explaining the rules, a memory creeps in of the first time you ever played this godforsaken party game. On Steve Harrington's floor in eighth grade. The cheers dying off as the mouth of the bottle slowed to a stop in your direction. No one expected him to actually lean over and kiss you. Or that you'd stay good friends despite his high school career soaring into stardom while yours sort of... didn't.

"We don't kiss them!" El chirps with an excited glint in her eye. The girls lean in like it's the first time they're hearing the rules but you're almost certain they made them up.

"Right. Instead, El here becomes our spy. I'm not exactly sure how it works, but she can see into their conversations or something. It's wicked." Max looks to El with something like admiration.

Intrigued, you glance down at the post-it notes arranged in a circle, scribbled with assorted names from yearbooks and yellow pages. A few you recognize: Mike and Lucas, one of the Hawkins Middle math teachers, even Will’s mom wasn’t safe from their antics.

But among the many names, you're most drawn to Steve. The way the letters loop and curl into his name, you go a little dizzy imagining that you really were playing the game. That he was seated across from you now. That he might lean over like he did the first time while your mind raced with a thousand possibilities. It's a prank or a dare or his wholehearted commitment to the game, anything other than his own free will.

You blink out of your silly, nostalgia-fueled trance when Max presses the cold glass bottle to your palm.

"You first."

They giggle and fall into each other when you half-twist the bottle. You're still in disbelief that you agreed to this as you watch the bottle spin, ticking off names as it loses momentum.

"Who is that?" you ask, leaning closer as if you'd read the yellow post-it wrong.

"Oh," El says. She cringes away from the board and crosses her arms over her chest in defiance.

"That bitch from P.E.," Max grumbles, and you have half a mind to scold her if you hand’t found universal bitch-aversion endlessly amusing. "You can spin again, she's not worth the trouble anyway."

You imagine your dream game once again. The bottle flies in the other direction at your fingertips, haywire and picking up a new gravity. It draws a wild, fiery line beneath your stare as you consider the possibility of Steve. It slows and slows until it's spinning almost at the same pace as Earth from a distance. Listening to the roaring sound of the universe as the bottle turns. Turns and turns and turns. Your eyes light up.

The girls giggle.

"No," you say sternly, regretting all your daydreams and fantasies in the face of cold, hard reality. "No, not Steve."

"Please!" they whine.

"Ladies, that's enough. He's a good friend, we're not spying on him."

They act like kicked puppies, though you know they're tricking you as they pout and bat their eyes. You know they know more than they should. About you. You and your feelings towards Steve Harrington. Something they discovered through a quiz in some teeny bopper magazine or other. Those magazines that somehow hold the secrets of the universe and the answers to every haircare question.

“Come on, I’ll make us popcorn and we can start a movie. A horror, if you really want.”

They seem satisfied enough, springing to the couch and settling into the cushions there.

The stove heats slowly. You fish through your cabinet for the last pan of Jiffy Pop, peeling back the thin cardboard cover when you hear snickering from the other room.

“What’s he saying?” Max whispers. You strain to hear her with your back pressed to the wall, just out of sight.

You shouldn’t be eavesdropping. You know better. You’re not a prepubescent girl anymore, you’re the babysitter with responsibilities. Like a job. Yet, you can’t seem to pull yourself away from the doorway. Every time you hear his name, your heart soars with what-ifs. You feel your eyes slip closed as El speaks.

“Steve is speaking to someone. I see her”—Your heart sinks—“Robin!”

You selfishly let out a breath. You’re mostly thankful he’s not spending his evening alone, but you also knew his friendship with Robin was strictly platonic. Robin had sworn by it without you even having to raise the question. You didn’t have to, she said, she could see it in your face. You wondered if Steve found you that transparent.

“He’s talking about… A girl. Her eyes. A smile. And he’s smiling, too. Oh, wait, now he’s frowning because Robin flicked him,” she says with a playful lilt.

She gasps.

“What?” Max yelps, shifting closer on the squeaky couch.

“Steve wants to confess his feelings. Big feelings, he says. Like-like.”

You not sure if that’s El’s paraphrase of Steve’s so-called big feelings or if the term like-like came from his own mouth. Neither option would surprise you. What does surprise you is that you’d never heard any of this from Steve before. You liked to think you were friends, even one of his best friends. He was surely one of yours. You told each other almost everything because you can’t exactly discuss complex relationships and sex with middle schoolers.

But you’d never heard of Steve’s seemingly new, mystery like-liker lover.

“He’s thinking of asking her out. Robin told him he might as well, it’s obvious that the girl he’s talking about likes him back. He doesn’t agree,” El says, her brows furrowed beneath the thick black blindfold, “Robin’s shouting. Steve looks sad.”

“What’s she saying?” Max whispers.

“Shh! ‘You like her so much, you might as well tell her and let her react. But I’ll say this, she’s going to say yes. That girl has been in love with you since the eighth grade’. He’s thinking.”

“Think faster, hair-brain!”

El giggles, her face suddenly falling serious. “‘Really?’” You stifle a laugh at the deeper voice she affects.

“‘She’s never said anything to me about it’. Robin looks angry. ‘Obviously, dingus! Do you go around telling people you’re in love with them?’”

“She has a point,” Max says. “Who’s he talking about?”

“I don’t know—Oh! Here we go,” El huffs, fists clenched eagerly, “He’s making a plan to ask her out, he’s going to call her. He’s getting up—”

Just then, the popcorn bursts from its aluminum confines with a bang. You let out a strangled noise between a yelp and a grumble, annoyed at the rude and very loud interruption. As you set the burner knob in place, you consider the fact that Steve has very real feelings for someone else. Someone who’s just not you. And as you shake the popcorn into a ceramic bowl, the landline rings.

“Will someone get that?” you call, grabbing a few small packages of sweets stashed in the cabinet. You hear the girls spring from the couch, and you shuffle into the living room to a giddy scene huddled around the receiver.

“Yes, she’s here!” El squeals. There’s a muffled response from the other line, and they share a conspiratorial glance.

“It’s for you,” Max says, handing you the phone with a smirk.

“Thank you. Go pick a movie while the popcorn’s hot.” You clear your throat, preparing yourself for the worst. Maybe your boss firing you or a repo man taking your TV. “Hello?”

“Hi, sweetheart, I didn’t mean to interrupt girl’s night, I can call back later,” Steve’s gentle voice filters clear through the speaker. In the silence, static hums, and you press the phone closer to your ear.

Trying to listen for what he might be thinking. He sounds like rain. Like Sunday and a lack of pressure. He sounds inviting and warm like that big green sweater he’s always wearing. If only you knew he wears it because you adore it. You tell him every time; why would he ever stop.

“No!” you chirp, “no, perfect timing actually, we were just about to start a movie.”

“Oh! That sounds fun,” he says. You fidget with the springy cord, facing away from the living room and from the attention of the two flittering girls.

“Yeah,” you say, hoping he doesn’t recognize the disappointment coloring your tone. “So, how’d it go?”

He chokes a little. “How’d… what? Go?” There’s a soft snicker from the other line at his incidental voice crack.

“Your… I mean, did you have something you wanted to tell me?”

The line dips, but you hadn’t heard the telltale plastic clatter of a hang up. Just soft shuffling and a curse from under his breath. You curdle at the near silence.

“What did Robin tell you?” he grumbles.

“What? Nothing. Was she supposed to?”

“Well, no! I just called to tell you—”

He goes silent, and this time you’re actually convinced he hung up. There’s no sound at all, and you double check your receiver to make sure the problem’s not on your end.

“Stevie?”

“Yep, sorry. Just… feel silly.”

“Okay, you’re starting to scare me a little,” you hum, clutching onto the handheld.

“No! Sorry, not trying to scare you, honey, I just need to get something off my chest. But it’s not scary. Or, well, I guess it could be taken that way, and that would be okay. A little sad, but yeah, no hard feelings—”

At this point, you’re sure he’s talking about his prospective date. He knows you have a stupid, obvious crush on him, and he’s trying to soften the blow of new romantic conquest. Of course, introducing his new girlfriend to you would be terrifying, but you’d always put on a brave face for Steve. He knows that. He’d do the same for you.

“Steve?”

“Yeah.”

“Just get it over with,” you sigh, leaning your head against the wall and bracing for heartache.

“Right. Not trying to waste your time. Here goes.”

I’ve got a new, smoking hot girlfriend who just agreed to go on a date with me. And she’s got beautiful eyes and a gorgeous smile, and I’ve been in love with her since I can remember, and we’re gonna run away together forever and get married and have perfect babies.

“I like you,” he huffs.

“Well, duh, I like you, too, you’re only my closest friend,” you say. You’re tense, waiting for the other shoe to come hurling through the skylight. “Now, tell me.”

“No, sweetheart, I like-like you. Have since I was nine. Miss Boyd’s class, if I’m not mistaken.” There’s a soft thud like his forehead colliding with the wall beside his phone.

You inhale a shaky breath. He’s kidding, and it’s a prank. Your heart races, and you want to curse him out for picking on you. He should know better. Right?

“Steve,” you warble, “please tell me you’re joking.”

There’s more shuffling, muffled voices, and you think you’ve just exposed one long drawn out joke. You’re about to hang up with what’s left of your dignity when he says:

“Are you rejecting me?”

He sounds almost mad. Hair ruffled, skin on edge. How you imagine his father might sound just before one of his awful fits. But there’s something much softer to Steve, more understanding. Hurt like a child.

Still, you can’t help you suspicion.

“Quit it. I know it’s a joke, don’t drag it out.”

“Hey, wait a second,” he urges, “It’s not a joke. I like you. A lot.” He says it so softly, your heart just might believe him. As if all the stars have aligned, and he’s actually confessing his feelings for you. You didn’t think the stars did that. Not really, anyway.

There’s a new tune to his voice you’d almost name teasing, “c’mon, don’t leave me hangin’.”

And just like that, he’s back in school again, fawning over you from a distance, finding an excuse to tag you during recess only to avoid you in class so you wouldn’t see him blush. He’s back to whispered secrets through the phone at midnight so he’s parents wouldn’t catch him. He only ever told you what wouldn’t give him away. He’s back to not letting you pay for your ice cream and shrugging it off with a smile. He’s back, and he might just be yours.

“I—Sorry, you like me? Like like-like, like enough to ask me on a real date?” you huff. He chuckles.

“Well, that last part kinda depends on whether or not you like me back. But yes, I like-like like like-like you.”

You spin to face the living room only to be confronted by an empty popcorn bowl and two fidgety, blushing, wide-eyed teens. They urge you for answers, gesturing wildly and wiggling towards you across the floor.

“Of course, I like you. I thought you knew.”

“Everyone keeps saying that. I guess I was too distracted,” he admits.

“I guess we both were,” you say, unable to keep a grin from your face, succumbing to joy as your fingers dance along the telephone cord.

“So, how about that date?” It escapes him barely above a whisper. He can’t believe he’s actually saying it after all this time. The only thing that convinces him it even came out is your soft laughter.

“Sounds wonderful!”

“Good!” he coos.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then?”

“Great, yeah. That’s… I can’t wait.” He’s earnest until his cheeks hurt, and Robin teases him for it.

“Tomorrow, it is,” you purr, nearly in tune with the low hum of the receiver, “I’ll call you later.”

“Bye, sweetheart. Don’t forget: I like-like you.”

You smile, slotting the phone back into its place. A chorus of giggles erupts at your feet. Spin the bottle had been a good idea, after all.

stranger things masterlist

[malenjoyer]

I just had a passing thought about my own stuff from an outsider POV. I wondered if anyone who’s not a huge fan of dick questions why Dick Grayson in most of the stuff I post…

Why all of a sudden Dick Grayson is the bus driver- because I hired him!!! I want to see him! I’m gonna put him in everything!

[buttered-toasty]

This image is endlessly delightful to me. The first instinct is to say, as my friend put it, he has handfuls. But waist is lower down. Tits are a smidge higher up. Celebrimbor you have handfuls mostly of ribcage. Also he is yapping as if this is a normal part of conversation. Annatar looks like the colony rats in his lab just developed new, never before seen behaviors. If I walked into a room and saw this I would audibly say “that’s enough of this room for today” and turn around and walk back out. Clearly I am interrupting something, though what that something is is anyone’s guess.

Also there is obviously something queer going on here but it doesn’t even matter. We have transcended the use of queer in reference to sexuality and gone back to its original meaning. They are so fucking strange.

.

.

Goes without saying this image has boundless template potential and I WILL be doing this to my OCs

[fastboatsmojito]

Inspired by this req !

Hot and Heavy - Gym Nerd! Scott Miller x Reader

| A/N; title based on the song by Lucy Dacus but the song itself is irrelevant to the plot lmao also pls don’t chew gum while you work out this is just Fiction <3

| CW; mostly just some good old bickering in a non-angsty way, Scott being Scott + the tiniest soft spot for you, I think that’s it 💆🏻‍♂️ I was going to make this smutty but it didn’t feel right and I didn’t want to force it so !

He was always there by the time you arrived, already sweaty and intense as you walked in.

“Jesus, Scott. You ever sleep?” You scoffed, setting your bag down and stretching your arms.

“Eight hours.” He barely looked up to talk to you, focused on the weights in front of him.

Of course. He was unintentionally irritating, the crisp, clean compression shirt he sported making the size of him just that much more unavoidable. You weren’t competing with him - you couldn’t if you wanted to, but he wasn’t a bad ‘gym buddy’, disregarding his grumpy attitude and refusal to actually call you that.

He never overstepped, he was quiet but reliable, giving you space and unenthusiastically spotting you whenever you asked.

You held your hand out towards him as he walked over and grabbed his bag, rolling his eyes at you before taking out a piece of gum.

“You get one. If you swallow it again that’s on you.” He said, the piece of gum still in his hand pointing at you as he spoke.

“Already cranky, I see.” You snatched the gum out of his hand, grinning at his less than pleased expression.

——

After a while you got a little overzealous with some weights, voice coming out shaky when you realized it was too much for you to lift all the way. “Shit- um, Scott?”

“What?” He didn’t look up at you when he replied. He didn’t usually have to, used to you asking him whatever questions popped up in your head during your workout, gym related or not.

“Can you come grab this for me?” He looked up then, disregarding his strict routine to jog over to you.

“Yeah. Fuck, why’d you add all this shit? You know that’s too much, right?” He lifted it back up for you, as soon as he was in front of you with his hands on his hips you knew you were in for one of his infamous lectures.

“I know now. I thought I could handle it-“ You tried to explain yourself, clearly falling short when he shook his head.

“Don’t be stupid. I won’t be able to workout if I’m too busy worrying about you breaking your neck. If you need help, just ask-“ He reprimanded, putting his hand up to stop you from interrupting him.

“Before it’s too much. That’s the only reason we’re here at the same time.” He always looked like someone’s dad when he got like this, aggressively chewing his gum with a disapproving look on his face.

“Yeah, yeah. You’re right, I’ll ask for help next time.” You muttered before standing up, motioning to walk off before he stopped you.

“Before-“ He moved to stand in front of you like some angry bouncer, waiting on you to finish his sentence.

“Before it’s too much. I know. Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, be smart.” That’s what he always said, you always apologized anyway.

——

You were done after that, uncomfortably dripping sweat from basically every part of your body, walking over to grab your water bottle as you met Scott on the bench. You sat down as he intently watched you trying to massage your leg.

“You hurt your leg, or what?”

“Just a cramp.” You sighed, laying down on the bench instead.

“Come here.” You propped yourself up on your elbows after he said it, confused expression on your face like he just said something insane.

“Don’t look at me like that. Just come here.” He motions for you to move closer to him with his hand, grabbing your leg and placing it in his lap when you were close enough. As soon as his hand moved to your leg you tensed up, unsure of what exactly what you were expecting but surprised nonetheless.

“What’s your problem? Christ just let me massage it out for you, don’t be a brat.” He complained, hands massaging over one of your legs when you relaxed.

“I’m not being a brat, you’re just not exactly the affectionate type.” You winced as he was particularly rougher right where it hurt.

“This isn’t affection, this is you not getting enough calcium and overworking yourself. That’s not on me.” He continued, moving to the other leg when he was pleased with your satiated breathing.

“You know I do this on purpose, right? I choose to do this, even if I’m a dick about it sometimes. I just want you to do it correctly, not get yourself hurt.”

“You’re a dick about it most of the time.” You corrected, sure you heard a light laugh out of him.

“But yeah, I know. Softy.” He rolled his eyes at the unusual nickname, tapping your leg to move it before he stood up.

“Hit the showers, you’re all sweaty.” He cracked his knuckles as he said it before walking away, ignoring your final remark.

“There he is.”

——

[rystiel]

hello junghun nation do y’all exist can anybody hear me

[iknowwhereyousnoozeatnight]

misa my love

[i-may-be-an-emu]

WHAT AM I MEANT TO SAY WHEN PEOPLE ASK ABOUT MY HOBBIES LIKE OH. IM VERY OBSESSED WITH AN IMPROV GROUP FROM LONDON. YEAH WHEN I THINK ABOUT THEM I SMILE LIKE A MANIAC AND I’VE CRIED BECAUSE THEY MEAN SO MUCH TO ME MULTIPLE TIMES. WHAT ARE YOUR HOBBIES?

[kingly-court]

I’m legitimately gonna explode if I don’t find someone else who understand the background tragedy of the Gleeful Family in Gravity falls.

[darlingcloudie-9]

drewposting. part two!!!!!!! (ft. Diana Cavendish)

[theythemmer]

phinktober day 8: tatinof

wtf a whole week done already???? i haven’t drawn this consistently since i was in high school 😭

bonus bc idk when to stop

[javierduffy]

nawt super excited abt where my art style is going

[secretmellowblog]

For me the ‘canon homoerotic subtext’ between brick!Valjean and Javert is really more about the parallels between Javert and Eponine, who are explicitly set up as character foils.

Brick!Javert isn’t obsessed with Valjean like he is in adaptations. He’s not psychosexually obsessed with hunting him down; he really doesn’t seem to think of him as being any different than any other criminal—- he doesn’t think about Jean Valjean much at all until after Jean Valjean saves his life.

But after the barricades, Javert’s sudden weird desperate emotions about Jean Valjean are like a twisted mirror of his character foil Eponine’s weird desperate emotions for Marius.

Some guy takes pity on them, and extends them a bit of basic impersonal kindness— and they react by descending into this violently self-destructive suicidal admiration built on self-loathing. They’re both described as making themselves the “dogs” of Marius/Valjean, the dogs of people who barely remember they exist.

And anyway! I think there is potential to explore things there in analysis and fanfiction

[wundrousarts]

Something I’ve noticed for awhile is that I often get comments from people about how they are surprised how I always come up with theories and try to guess what might happen and they “could never do that” themselves. I want to say: yes you can! There’s honestly a shortage of Nevermoor theories and ideas and speculation and etc and I want to see MORE!!!

Want to talk about how Morrigan’s mom is actually secretly alive? How the Scholar Mistresses are a Wundrous Act? Do you think the Tempus Divinity looks like an owl, or do you think Weaving and Ruination would be met together? Or have you ever thought about how this one line, from Chapter 19 of Nevermoor, about Betram Crow actually means he was a Cursed Child? Whatever it is you want to talk about: GO FOR IT!!!

I personally find it very fun to go sort of “English class mode” and look at the text in front of me and think about what different things might mean and analyze it and even overthink it to an unnecessary (but fun!) amount. But that’s just me and how I like to approach things! You don’t need to make long posts and quote specific lines if that isn’t your style. The big thing to remember is that so much can happen in the next six books, so throw any idea out there! You never know what twists and turns will be thrown at us. I think it’s fun to share these ideas and discuss with other people— sure, maybe there’s just something you missed when reading, but perhaps some new ideas spawn might from it. Some speculation could even serve as inspiration for fics!

There are some theories and thoughts that I’ve posted that have been “debunked” when I reread a book, or when someone pointed out something, or even just when something had a real-world basis that I as an American didn’t catch. But it was still fun to think about it all, and there’s some bits and pieces that I see as notable and worth considering. I think most of the Silverborn Masterpost is going to be “wrong”, but if just 1% of it is “correct”, even indirectly, I will take that as a win. I know it feels like during the hiatus everyone’s talked about everything, but I hope that the incoming communal reread (fingers crossed) and obviously Silverborn brings some speculation back to the fandom because I want to discusssssss!

[gr8ntaire]

do u think when Marc meets little kids (all decked out in gear to support him 🥺) he thinks of his little kid self and how much love and devotion HE had. Turns the whole thing into something just as lovely and pure as he possibly can because he recognises how important stuff like that is. waaah.

[oc3anic-ang3l]

Percy, about Nico: HE SAID YES! (i asked if he was mad at me)

[jitters-art]

just love me and eat

some extra cannibalism sketches that i have no desire to finish