#they makeout about it

[hairmetal666]

No one knows who writes the Hawkins High Tattler. It comes out every week, without fail, has for almost two decades. Everyone reads it, even teachers, even parents. It's caused more the one suspension, grounding, and even--famously--a shipping off to boarding school.

Steve's never let the Tattler get to him much. He's in it, of course, practically a new story every week. But it's just silly gossip.

Of course, Steve is also, currently, the titular Tattler, so. It's not like he's surprised when his name shows up.

It's his third year, his last year, and he knows everything that ever goes on at Hawkins High. It's pretty easy, honestly. Everyone thinks he's ditzy and vapid; nothing more than hairspray and polos. People will say anything around him, assuming he's not listening or not interested, and then bam. It's in next week's Tattler. No one even suspects him.

The confessions locker probably helps. Down by the theater, busted and unusable, the perfect place for people to leave tips, to tattle on their friends (or enemies, as the case may be).

That's what he's doing right now, checking the confessions locker. After 9:30 on a Friday night, the place silent as the tomb, perfect time for it. Pretty standard fare this week. The only thing of interest is that Eddie Munson was the person who broke all Ms. Click's pencils and left the stubs on her desk. This one, he laughs at, can't wait to publish it; can't wait to talk to Munson about it.

He gets a lot of stuff about Eddie. Most of it he doesn't publish because it's bullshit about satanic rituals--the nerdy kids he babysits play dnd, and there's no way Karen Wheeler is letting anything satanic happen in her basement--or about his sexuality, and one thing Steve doesn't do is out people.

Gathering up this week's submissions, he closes the locker with a soft clink, and he swears, swears he hears the squeak of a tennis shoe on the polished tile of the floor. He freezes, heart in his throat. Nobody has been here this late before.

Seconds pass but there's only silence. Confident he's only hearing things, he heads out, the parking lot just as empty as when he arrived.

---

He sees Eddie a few days later, when he's picking up the kids from the arcade. They typically exchange casual greetings, but as Steve waits, Eddie stands with him, offers him a cigarette.

"Read that was you who messed with Click's pencils. Good one."

Eddie shrugs, gives a little bow and a smile. "Happy to be of service."

"It was my class, when she found them. Never seen her so mad."

"No way," Eddie laughs. "Not even when Hagan drew dicks on all the textbooks?"

"Not even then, man. She was throwing pencil stubs everywhere."

"Fuck, sad I missed it." Eddie takes a drag, Steve's eyes following the movement, lingering on his mouth. Something warm and tingling builds at the base of his spine and he forces his gaze away.

"How long you in detention for?"

"I'm not. Swore it wasn't me, and Click doesn't want to admit she reads the Tattler, so. Not much they could do. "

"I've seen it sitting on her desk!"

"I know! She reads it when she has detention duty!"

They lean against Steve's car, laughing, and Steve feels good. This is good. He likes Eddie. He's funny and dramatic and smart and kind. He's not deserving of any of the mean things that get submitted to the Tattler.

The kids come streaming into the parking lot then, and Eddie stubs out his cigarette, says "see you around, Harrington," and Steve finds himself flushing for reasons he can't quite explain.

---

He starts seeing Eddie around way more. He's in school most days, smoking in the parking lot after the last bell, chatting with Steve in the hallways.

It shows up in the Tattler; big news that the King and the Freak are hanging out. Most of the submissions are about it, increasingly elaborate rumors about their supposedly deep, close friendship.

He wishes he could tell Eddie.

Eventually, Eddie invites him to smoke at the quarry. He doesn't hesitate to say yes, doesn't even bother to try ignoring the swoop in his stomach, the speed of his heart.

They sprawl out in the back of the van, Eddie's loud, raucous music pounding around them, sharing a joint back and forth.

Steve gets hazy, boneless, can't stop watching Eddie, the way his lips purse around the joint, his long hair glinting gold in the weak light of the camping lanterns, the pleased shine of his eyes every time he makes Steve laughs.

He likes Eddie so much. Everything about him, honestly. Butterflies ping in his stomach, happy and slow, and he thinks how nice Eddie's lips are, wonders how soft they must be. And he thinks--he's read the submissions, right--he knows the things they say about Eddie, and he wishes it was true, he wants--he wants--

He wants

---

Steve's running late to check the locker. Lost track of time at the diner with Eddie, and it's making him panic.

He stuffs the submissions haphazardly into the pocket of his hoodie, dancing with nerves, willing himself to grab them all and get out.

Locker emptied, he sprints towards the exit. He has a second to process someone barreling towards him in the dark, but he's going too fast to stop, can only brace himself as they collide.

It sends him sliding across the floor, Tattler submissions spilling out of his pocket like snow. He hits the ground, scrabbling for the papers, praying that whoever is here with him can't see them in the low light.

Hands grips his biceps. "Stevie, Steve, we have to get out of here" and there's a second where he's comforted by the familiar rasp of Eddie's voice before terror spikes again.

He pulls himself from Eddie's grasp, searching for any dropped submissions in easy reach. "Wha--why--what's--"

"I ran into Jason Carver and his band of idiots at the gas station. They're on their way to here to try to catch the Tattler in action."

Steve freezes. "I don't--that's not--I--"

In the deep silence of the empty school, they both hear the slamming of a door, a bitten off giggle. Eddie grabs his wrist and they run. Into the theater room, through a door Steve didn't know existed, to the backstage area of the auditorium.

"You should be safe here," Eddie says.

Panic spirals through him. "I can explain. I was just--I forgot a--I needed--"

"Harrington! I know, okay? I already know."

Steve can only blink at him, swallows rough in his throat. "What--Eddie, I--"

"I saw you. Weeks ago. Forgot my notebook in the theater room after Hellfire and had to run back for it. You were there, at the locker."

"You can't tell anyone."

"I'm not going to."

"No, Munson, you really can't. Nobody can know. Nobody--"

"Swe--Stevie, I promise. The secret's safe with me." He rocks back on his heels, chewing on his lip for a second before he continues. " I--I couldn't figure you out, you know? I saw you around with those kids and it didn't make any sense. King Steve, babysitting tiny nerds? But I saw you at the locker and..."

"You're giving me too much credit, man."

"I don't think so. You're never--fuck, Harrington--you're never mean. At least, not in the last couple years. You spread gossip, but you don't punch down, and you're funny as hell. Mean as shit too, but only to the people who deserve it."

His ears burn and he looks down. "Just because I have fucking--fucking editorial standards doesn't mean that I'm anything special."

Eddie scoffs. "Remember, Stevie, I was reading it a year before you were here. Cruel, vapid garbage. Always the most vile, pointless stories about people who couldn't defend themselves. And how many submissions have you gotten about me, for instance, that you've never used?"

Steve clenches his fists. "I would never--"

"I know. Sweetheart, I know. That's why I li--You're so fucking good, Stevie."

He laughs, ears burning. "I'm really not, Eddie. I try to write about fun gossip that can't hurt anyone too much, and nobody's found me out because they think I'm too dumb--"

Eddie reaches out then, fingers connecting softly with the edge of Steve's jaw. He can't help but lean into the touch, eyes flickering closed.

"You don't want to hurt people because you're fucking kind. You know how I know for sure? You must get submissions every week about me, and you've never once printed that I'm--" Eddie stops then, swallowing hard.

Steve's throat goes tight. He rests his hand over Eddie's, still holding his face. "Me too," he whispers. "Kind of. I like--it's both. For me."

"Oh," Eddie breathes, mouth lifting in a bright, beautiful smile that Steve can't help but return.

He's watching, sees when Eddie's gaze drifts his lips, making his breath hitch. He doesn't really think about closing the distance between them, slotting their mouths together in a tentative, gentle kiss.

"You're just full of surprises aren't you, Steve Harrington? Eddie asks when they part.

Steve blushes. "That's sort of the last of them."

"Sure. Next you'll be telling me you've played dnd."

"I have a character."

"What???"

"Human paladin. Dustin worked on it with me. Ready to get out of here?"

"Human paladin," Eddie gapes. "You know--you said--what's happening?"

Steve twines their fingers together, leading Eddie towards the auditorium exit. "Well, first we're going to walk out to my car and then we're going to my house, and we're going to look through Tattler submissions. Maybe makeout a little bit."

Eddie giggles. "What the fuck? Like. What the fuck, sweetheart?"

He turns to face Eddie, smile big and pure and bright with happiness. "If you're really nice to me, I'll let you help write this week's issue."

"Oh, oh. You're going to wreck me." Eddie mumbles, almost to himself.

"If you're lucky." Steve beams.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

The penisest of tunes.

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[shaylogic]

Okay, so we know that Charles' polo goes red>burgundy>black and back by the end of the season.

Because there's so much going on, I always missed the exact transitions. This time I specifically tracked them down. (Apologies if this has already been done.)

Charles shirt is bright red through the majority of the Devlin House, even in Hope's Diary scene, when he opens up to Crystal.

Even when he first swings at Mr. Devlin and gets knocked back, his shirt is red.

The very subtle shift to burgundy is after he disappears and first reappears in the loop.

It remains burgundy throughout the entire lighthouse leapers episode and beginning of the two dead dragons.

I finally realized the very last moment we see of Charles in the burgundy is with Crystal. She tells him after the confusing makeout night, "But I think we should be friends," and kind-hearted Charles, of course, respects that and puts on a friendly smile.

It's difficult to see in the next scene with him because of his jacket, the angle he sits at on the ladder, and the lighting, but it's immediately after that when we first see him in the black polo.

My brother in death, you are NOT doing well.

here's another song from Jayden Revri's official Charles playlist, that I think is about this conflict with Crystal:

His shirt is still black during the "I don't wanna be a bad guy" scene.

After Edwin's affirmation of Charles' inherent goodness, it is directly after this scene that the shirt goes back to burgundy!!!

He's still wearing the burgundy during the confession:

BUT IT GOES BACK TO BRIGHT RED LITERALLY RIGHT AFTER EDWIN'S CONFESSION AND THEY ESCAPE HELL TOGETHER!

Yo I equally love Cryland and Payneland but the show canonly said "Crystal hit him in the loneliness and Edwin hit him in the loved"

[rendevok]

Act II ~ The Challenge

A tapestry for chapter 2 of Let No One Sleep by @azalawa-scroggs on ao3

[dizzybizz]

mingling memeing for today 🥰

[egophiliac]

From what I’ve gathered, you play on Japan’s server, and have had this probably before but AAAAAAAAAAAA THE GLORIOUS MASQUERADE IS COMING FOR US AMERICA SERVER PLAYERS, IT ALL LOOKS AMAZING

YES get ready for a fun delightful romp through magical fantasy-Paris where everyone has a great time and nothing bad happens at all. enjoy the flowers! :)

(and be careful not to put an eye out on the hats)

[macksartblock]

spent most of my time off playing BG3 so-- dads in their classes starting gear

[forgetful-river]

Aradia August Day 17: STRIFE!!

[shinynewmemories]

Katniss in her Pre-Peeta Era: " Being out in the woods with Gale . . . sometimes I was actually happy. " Also Katniss (in the cave with Peeta):

" 'And right when your song ended, I knew— just like your mother — I was a goner,' Peeta says. 'Then for the next eleven years, I tried to work up the nerve to talk to you.' 'Without success,' I add. 'Without success. So, in a way, my name being drawn in the reaping was a real piece of luck,' says Peeta. For a moment, I’m almost foolishly happy [...] " Also Katniss (in bed with Peeta):

" 'You didn’t have any nightmares last night,' he says. He’s right. For the first time in ages I’ve slept through the night. 'I had a dream, though,' I say, thinking back. 'I was following a mockingjay through the woods. For a long time. It was Rue, really. I mean, when it sang, it had her voice.' 'Where did she take you?' he says, brushing my hair off my forehead. 'I don’t know. We never arrived,' I say. 'But I felt happy.' " Also Katniss (in love with Peeta):

" As I drift off, I try to imagine that world, somewhere in the future, with no Games, no Capitol. A place like the meadow in the song I sang to Rue as she died. Where Peeta’s child could be safe. [...] When I wake, I have a brief, delicious feeling of happiness that is somehow connected with Peeta. "

[iizuumi]

At least get cleaned up first!!

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

The most evil celebratory kiss

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[sneakymcsneakerson]

Why did the Honda Odyssey scene have the same kind of energy as a Sims Woohoo animation? Plz tell me I'm not the only one who noticed.

[l3viat8an]

FINALLY A STRAIGHT LEVIATHAN FAN 😭 ALL THE OTHER LEVI FANS I FOLLOW ARE LESBIANS IRL ⁉️

This whole ask is so ??????? like why do you care so much?!

But also- WHAT DO YOU MEAN STRAIGHT???? WHAT ABOUT MY BLOG GIVES OFF STRAIGHT??? I???

[rainbowpufflez]

Giovanni homophobia arc™️

[transmascxielian]

I LOVE BEING AROMANTIC! I love talking to my friends about stuff they like. I love kissing my friends on the face and telling them I'm in love with them and knowing that it isn't romantic, it's just us. I love knowing myself well enough to know that I don't want romance or a relationship. I love platonic interpretations of media. I love defiance of amatonormativity. I love how my experience could be completely alien to that of another aromantic person because of how personal and multifaceted it can be. I love containing multitudes. I love aromanticism and I love being aro and I love being queer and trans and I love eschewing conventional relationships. I love loving.

[goatpunches]

modern/band au wangxian as the guys from this post