Nerd Blog

There are three prompts per day, with a Free Choice day at the end of the week. The prompts were designed so that each day would have at least one prompt aimed toward gif and/or edit makers, but of course, you may create your work based on whichever prompt inspires you.

The prompts are:

Day One (July 19): Summer | Forced proximity | Favorite moment(s)

Day Two (July 20): Second chances | Philly | Nail bat

Day Three (July 21): Long distance | Secret relationship | Jealousy

Day Four (July 22): Alternate Universe | Time loop | Parallels

Day Five (July 23): Road trip | Radio station | Song lyrics 

Day Six (July 24): Reunions | Fix-it | Monster hunting

Day Seven (July 25): Free Choice!

BONUS PROMPTS:

Stonathan → Stoncy: Most Stoncy dynamics start with Steve and Nancy as an already established couple, Jonathan and Nancy as an already established couple, or all three of them single. This prompt goes a different direction and poses Steve and Jonathan as the already established couple, instead. Could be set in an alternate universe, in canon, post-canon, or whatever direction you want to take it!

“Three person poly relationship made up of two people who are already dating trying to coax someone with horrific self worth issues into a loving relationship. Stray cat style.”: Inspired by this Tumblr post. Is Steve, Nancy, or Jonathan the stray cat? You get to decide! 

One minute Steve’s bitching about hauling amps, the next he’s on the rug in the middle of the living room, dropping into a backbend that looks exactly like something out of a black-and-white training photo. His ribs stand out, his hair brushes the air, one hand wrapped around the heel of his opposite foot like it’s nothing.

Eddie is quite literally in shock at this.

“What on earth are you doing, Harrington?” Eddie manages, voice strangled.

“My back hurts,” Steve says, like that explains anything. “I’m stretching.”

“I’ve never seen someone bend that way, man,” Eddie says, because holy shit. “That’s not stretching, that’s… something else”

Steve blinks up at him from upside down. “Huh? We used to do this in class all the time.”

“Class?” Eddie echoes.

“Yeah, ballet?” Steve says it so casually Eddie almost misses it. “Danced for like eight years. Stopped before high school.”

There’s a ringing in Eddie’s ears. “You did what?” he says, strangled, because Steve Harrington, secret ballerina apparently, is already more than his crush-riddled brain can handle, and now all he can think is: if he can bend like that, what else can he do?

He drags his gaze away before he gives himself away completely, shoves his hands in his pockets and tries, desperately, to sound normal. “Cool, yeah.”

Steve’s sitting up now, looking at him with this curious little squint. Eddie squirms. “What?”

Steve huffs, rolls his eyes, and pushes to his feet. “Don’t be weird about it, Munson.”

“No, yeah, I’m not, I’m just— y’know.” He shrugs, hears himself babbling. “Ballerina Steve. Whatever.” He can feel the heat in his cheeks and turns away so Steve can’t see his face hiding under his hair.

From behind him, Steve lets out this half-laugh. “Wanna see something else cool?”

Eddie’s mind trips over itself. What else could he *possibly* have up his sleeve? “Uh. Okay. Yeah. Sure.”

He turns back around—

and Steve’s already moving, spotting some invisible point on the wall and snapping into a clean fourth position before Eddie can even process it. Then he’s turning, fast, tight pirouettes one after another, the kind of spin that should belong on a stage, not in the middle of a dingy living room. His shoulders stay level, his chin locked, feet whispering against the rug in quick, sure steps until he snaps to a stop like someone hit pause.

He’s a little breathless, hair mussed, wearing this self-satisfied smirk that hits Eddie like a truck. “Still just ‘whatever,’ or did I earn an upgrade?”

Eddie’s jaw works uselessly. Words have apparently left the building. All he manages, wide-eyed and bright red, is a breathy, “…cool.”

Steve laughs like that’s the funniest thing he’s heard all week, shakes his head, and claps Eddie on the shoulder as he walks past. “Knew you’d be into that,” he says, halfway under his breath.

~◼️▪️◼️▪️◼️▪️◼️~

June ██, 1983.

"Listen, listen," Steve held both hands up to quiet him, "It's not carved in stone, it's not predestination, it's choices, weaves," he balled his hands into fists in a sign of mild frustration, "Look—" he unwrapped the scarf from his neck, holding the tasselled end up at Eddie, but… it was June… and Eddie could've sworn Steve didn't have a scarf, he'd have noticed, right? Especially one like that, thick and knitted, made of a soft looking, vibrant yellow wool. "—Fate is a tapestry, it's huge and all encompassing, and unlike this—" he pulled at the frayed edge of the scarf, unravelling a handful of threads, "—that tapestry has an almost infinite amount of threads."

"Steve?" Eddie whispered, pointing at the scarf in confusion as Steve carefully draped the ends of the threads across the side of his left hand, gripping the bulk and presenting them to Eddie as an offering,

"Which gives you choices." Steve either didn't hear him or was ignoring him, too wrapped up in his explanation. Sluggishly, Eddie started to accept that maybe the scarf had been there the whole time—of course it had, a bright yellow scarf was hard to miss—he looked instead to the offered threads, uncurling his hand into a reaching grab before he hesitated and narrowed his eyes.

"What are they?" he asked, "my choices."

"Hmm…" there was a strange intensity in Steve's eyes as he leant forward, the iridescent hazel was lost to the swell of his pupils and all Eddie saw there was darkness, inky and infinite, even the reflection from the dome light had slipped away from them, unable to find purchase on once-glossy lenses. The thick fog of Eddie's high seemed to settle in his throat as Steve regarded him, a nervous swallow doing nothing to shift it as he was stripped bare under that peculiar gaze, raw and exposed, seen.

"Uegk—" it was an odd noise, but it was the one he made, shrinking back until he was slumped against the side of the van, breaths coming out short and uneasy until Steve lifted his hand and disrupted Eddie's line of sight with the dangling threads. His head fell back against the panelling and he sucked down a few deep breaths of weed laced air, closing his eyes against the too-bright dome light as he recuperated from high-induced paranoia—it wasn't the first time his high had veered off course, but it rarely did so with company. "Jesus…" he sighed, shaking his head to clear it before peeling himself from the panelling, feeling sticky and damp with sweat as he honed in on Steve, watching as he drew a few of the threads back over his hand, "shit's strong…"

"Sorry," Steve hummed distantly, lifting golden eyes from the red yarn dangling across his fingers and meeting Eddie's wide-eyed stare, smiling at him with soft reassurance, "Your choices?" he gestured with the yarn and Eddie nodded,

"Ready."

"Great," Steve's voice was barely above a whisper, but then he cleared his throat and spoke crisp words into the air between them. "There are six threads," he stated and Eddie dragged his eyes across them, counting each one with a deep nod of his head, "six paths you can take, six choices you could make,"—he wondered absently if Steve knew he was rhyming—"Freedom, Aspiration—"

"Freedom from what?" he asked, interrupting, Steve looked thoughtful for a moment before shrugging,

"I dunno," his voice pitched up as he spoke, curiosity piquing him briefly, "You're the one who knows," he offered helpfully, twisting his mouth to the side as Eddie gave him a bemused look. He shrugged again, then continued, "Duty, Conformity—" As if, Eddie would sooner die than conform, and his thoughts must've been written all over his face, because Steve hesitated, giving him a curious look before touching his thumb to the second thread along, pulling it back over his hand with a subtle caress. "—Stability, and, of course, Nothing."

'Nothing' was a curious one, "What do they mean?" he asked, rephrasing in the hopes of a real answer as he gestured at the five remaining threads, Conformity was gone at least, but the options he was given were abstract and confusing,

"I couldn't tell you." Steve answered, which was part of the game, Eddie supposed, it was his job to figure them out and pick the right one.

"Do I just go with my gut and guess?" he scratched his eyebrow, closing one eye and keeping the other on the strands, as if their meanings would become clear, Steve didn't answer, "they're not in order." he knew that much when Conformity got removed, they were shuffled,

"I suppose not." Steve was still watching him when he looked up, soft eyed and airy as he kept his arm outstretched.

"Is there a right choice?" his voice felt too quiet, child-like as the weight of this bizarre game sat heavy across his shoulders, like it might somehow affect the rest of his life,

"What do you mean?" Steve cocked his head to the side, "whatever choice you make is your decision, so it's the right one for you." that wasn't exactly the answer he was looking for,

"Do any of these choices—" he hesitated, he felt stupid and small, like his question was too simple, too naive, "—Will any of these choices make me happy?" the look on Steve's face was oddly reassuring, that weighty seriousness lifted with the slight raise of his brows, a sweet smile tugging at one corner of his mouth, baring teeth that glinted sharp in the dome light,

"Two of the six offer… fulfilment, what you do on the path you choose is where happiness is found." it was a strange way to phrase it, two of the six, had Eddie already discarded one of his chances? That didn't seem right, he'd discarded Conformity, there wasn't a single timeline in which conforming could end in Eddie being fulfilled, conformity would be a wife, a litter of kids, a house with a picket fence, a cushy job, that sounded like Hell, not the recipe for a fulfilled life.

"I take it you know which two." he huffed, regretting it when he chased that smile away and painted a frown across that painfully pretty face,