#do you sacrifice everything you are or do you run?

[himbosandhardwear]

Steddie I Tiny Bit of Angst I idiot4idiot I First Kiss I 1.8k I SFW

“We're out of Mountain Dew,” Eddie yells into the living room.

“There's another case in the garage, I think,” Steve yells back, “I'll go look.”

Eddie slams the fridge shut. “No, don't get up, I've got it.”

“Quit being sweet on me!”

He's teasing, it's nothing, but Eddie's pulse jumps anyway, horrified that he's being obvious again. “I'm not sweet on you! I'm repaying my life debt!” Not the whole truth but not a lie either. Satisfied that he's dodged a bullet, he jogs to the garage, grabs the 12 pack from the moderately-wealthy-person's-modest-second-garage-fridge and drops it off at the ultra-wealthy-person's-expensive-and-shiny-main-fridge. He brings two back to the living room, gets ready to leap over the back of the couch so they can resume the movie, before he realizes Steve is MIA.

“You taking a shit?” He yells out.

Steve doesn't answer, which he supposes is answer enough. He resumes his roll over the back of the sofa, cracks his can open, chugs, and waits for Steve to return.

The TV is still paused on Kurt Russell’s rugged face. What a man. Eddie idly wonders what Steve would look like with a beard. He could sketch it out and then hide the evidence in one of his old D&D manuals.

Speaking of Steve…

“Yo, did you fall in?!” No response. “Hello?”

Okay, now it's getting weird. A chill runs down his neck.

Steve is fine. There's nothing to worry about. It's just weird he hasn't responded yet; the downstairs bathroom is ten feet away.

He jumps up, just to check for himself that Steve is okay. Which he is, because everything is fine.

The bathroom is empty…

“Okay, this isn't funny, asshole! You know I have trauma!”

No response to that either. What the fuck.

“Steve,” he yells up the stairs next, “seriously, dude, where are you?”

He takes them two at a time, because there's no good reason for Steve not to be yelling back. He pictures him being chewed on by a last remaining Demogorgon and preemptively starts planning his own sacrifice. Because if Steve is dead on Eddie's watch, killed while Eddie had his head in the garage fridge, he doesn't deserve that second chance at life.

“Hello?” He croaks down the hall. All of the doors are ajar, but that's not unusual. They're forever in and out of the various rooms; Steve into Eddie's, Eddie into Steve's, the both of them into his parents' empty room because they have the better bathroom.

Still nothing from Steve. It's getting ridiculous. He's not being eaten by a monster either, too quiet for that, so what the hell is going on?

He marches into Steve's room and finds it empty too. He almost continues on to Steve's en suite but he stops, notices the comforter on Steve's bed is missing, which is weird. A clue, maybe? He glances around, a look underneath, a peek around the side of the bed, but it's nowhere to be found.

He goes to call Steve's name again but then he hears something, like a sniffle.

The closet doors are shut but between them is a chunk of Steve's blanket, a tiny corner sticking out at the bottom.

Eddie tiptoes over and listens.

Yup. Another sniffle.

He parts the doors gently.

Steve throws the blanket over his head before Eddie can see him, only getting a quick peek at his knees before they disappear.

“Uhh, wha’cha doin’ in the closet, Stevie?”

He thought he'd said it soft enough to not scare him but when he immediately bursts into loudy, snotty tears underneath his blanket, Eddie can only assume he's fucked up anyway.

He crouches down. “Hey, I'm sorry, don't freak out, it's just me. C'mon, man, talk to me, what's going on? You're scaring me.”

“I'm fine,” Steve croaks.

“Yeah…clearly.”

The lump that is Steve groans and then falls over, landing on a pile of old shoes, which he doesn't seem to notice or care.

“I don't want to talk about it.”

Okay. Now that Eddie knows Steve is upset about something, he thinks back to what they were doing before they paused the movie. Which was nothing.

“You said you'd seen The Thing before.”

Steve sniffs. “I have. At Mike's fifteenth birthday.”

“Okay. So why are you freaking out about it now?”

“Why the fuck- Uhh. Yeah. The movie. Scared me real bad.”

Eddie frowns at The Lump. So it's not the movie. Something happened when Eddie got up. Think, think, think!

“The life debt thing?”

Steve doesn't respond. He does curl into a smaller ball, which seems like an answer in itself. What it means, he has no idea. Why would that leave Steve a sobbing mess? It's not like he can undo Steve saving his life! Of course he owes Steve everything!

“Please talk to me,” he begs softly. “I'm not good at this. I'm not Robin.”

He gets a scoff. “Robin is also not good at this.”

True. Just because she's a girl doesn't mean she comes equipped to handle emotional outbursts. She's more of a ‘pat, pat, there, there' kinda gal.

“Would you tell her what was wrong?”

“Yes,” Steve admits after a short pause.

“Would you like me to go get her?”

“No,” he says, barely above a whisper. “But you don't have to stay in here with me. You can finish the movie if you want. I'll be okay.”

“Steve,” he pats what he hopes is Steve's shoulder, “I might not be good at this emotional vulnerability shit but even I know you don't leave your friends crying on the floor of their closet.”

Since he's touching Steve, he can feel the short, hitching breaths he's taking, trying so hard not to be heard.

“I'm fine. I'll be fine,” Steve tries to convince him, “I just need a bit to get over myself. Like a week or…six.”

“Over what?”

He sniffles some more. “Nothing.”

“I'm not leaving until you tell me what's wrong, dude.” To prove his point he shuffles fully into the closet and pulls the doors shut behind him. “There. Our closet breakdown.”

Steve groans, tries giving Eddie a little kick but his feet are trapped inside the comforter, so it feels more like a nudge.

“I'll be over here by this pile of old basketball jerseys when you feel like talking. Number twenty-one? Is that lucky?”

“This is so stupid,” Steve mumbles.

“Hey, you're in charge of this rodeo, just tell me what's wrong and we can mosey on out of here.”

“You sound like Wayne when you say shit like that.”

“Well, he did half raise me. Tell me what's wrong.”

“No.”

“So you don't trust me?” He says just to be an asshole, to get some kind of reaction. “We're not that good of friends I guess.”

That gets him a reaction alright, just not the one he wants. Instead of getting pissed, Steve somehow curls even tighter, near silent sobs emanating from The Lump.

All of this had had a sort of surreal, humorous quality before, finding Steve having a nervous breakdown on the floor like a toddler told to go to bed, but it's getting less cute now.

Eddie gets up and lays the opposite way, head down near Steve's. He wants to bundle Steve up and rock him like a baby, but it doesn't seem like Steve wants that. “If I'm really hurting you…if this is my fault and you want me to go, I'll go, but I don't want to. I want to fix this. What do you want me to do?”

He's quiet. Not actively crying at least. After a long stretch, he mumbles, “Is that what you've been doing this whole time? Trying to fix things? Doing what you think I want because you think you owe me?”

Okay, now they're getting somewhere.

“I do owe you, Stevie, but that's not why… That's not why.”

“Then why?”

He swallows. “Because you deserve more than you get.” There. That's fine. That's platonic and still vulnerable and absolutely true.

“And that's it?”

What the fuck does he say to that? ‘No, actually, I want to treat you like the god damned royalty that you are, not in the fake high school sense, but in the way that knights willingly followed Kings onto the battlefield?’

“What do you mean?” He asks instead, like the coward he is.

“I mean… You close all the curtains in the house when you notice I've got a migraine. You learned to play my favorite songs even though you think they're mediocre. You corral the kids when they get out of hand and start being mean to me. You invite me to family dinner at Wayne and Gail’s. We live together and make breakfast together and spend all of our time together and I guess that's just because we're friends. That's what friends do. We're just friends.” He's worked himself into a fit again.

Eddie can do nothing but stare at the blanket lump and try not to panic. Either Steve has been onto him for months and has finally had enough or…

“Stevie? Why are you crying in the closet?”

“Don't make me say it.”

He chokes on his own sob, months of being good, keeping it tucked away and out of sight, welling up in his chest and in his eyes.

He finds the end of the blanket and pulls until he can crawl underneath too, finding Steve with his head turned away, like he's still trying to hide. Eddie slides both hands onto the sides of his face and turns him away from the floor. He blinks at Eddie, looking every bit like a tragic Prince in a fairytale. Or a baby cow.

“Please,” he begs, voice breaking, “tell me why you're sad.”

Steve studies Eddie, eye roaming over the tear tracks Eddie can't stop, over his trembling lip, the blush that must be painting his cheeks. He's going out on a real limb here, betting it all, but Steve doesn't leave him hanging for long.

“I thought you were sweet on me.”

Eddie coughs out a relieved a laugh. “I am, baby. I'm so sweet on you.”

Steve's face could outshine the fourth of July. “Yeah?”

“Are you kidding? You think I'd crawl back into the closet for just anyone?”

“Oh my god,” he groans, head falling to land on Eddie's shoulder.

“Hey,” he nudges softly, “whaddya say we come out of the closet together?”

“Why do I like you so much?”

“Aww, you sweet on me, Stevie?”

Instead of answering, he throws back the blanket, bringing fresh air, and then Steve basically knocks Eddie into the door, spilling them out onto the floor of his room. He crawls on top of Eddie, pinning him down with all of his jock glory.

"I am so sweet on you."

And then he kisses Eddie. Kisses him like he's been thinking about it just as long as Eddie has, which is a real bitch of a realization. Months they could've been doing this.

He's got two handfuls of jean covered ass when Steve pulls back far enough to whisper, “We have to make up something else to tell Robin. She can't know it happened like this, I'll never live it down.”

"Let me touch your dick and I'll tell her whatever you want. You fought off a bear in the backyard and I was overcome with desire."

"Deal."

[chimuelo2005-blog]

Viktor Didn’t Just Want to Live—He Wanted to Be Remembered (And Piltover Took That from Him)

Viktor’s illness in Arcane is one of those things that people talk about, but I feel like they only scratch the surface. Yeah, it’s tragic, yeah, it’s why he pushes Hextech so hard, but the way it actually shapes him. His mindset, his relationships, the way he exists in the world is so much deeper than just “he doesn’t want to die.”

Like, Viktor isn’t just running out of time—he feels it, every second of every day. He doesn’t get the luxury of patience, of hesitation, of slow and careful progress. People frame his desperation as a descent into obsession, but let’s be real; when your body is literally failing you and you’re one of the smartest people alive, of course you’re going to throw yourself into your work. What else is he supposed to do? Accept it? Lie down and die? He’s been sick since childhood, and you can see how that shaped him into someone who refuses to waste even a second.

And that’s why his relationship with Jayce is so painful to watch. Jayce is idealistic. He believes in progress, but in a way that’s manageable, controlled. Jayce is thinking about the future in terms of decades. Viktor? He doesn’t have decades. Every time Jayce hesitates, whether it’s about Hextech, about the ethics of what they’re doing, about the council’s approval, it’s not just frustrating for Viktor, it’s terrifying. Every delay, every “we need more time,” feels like another nail in his coffin. And the real tragedy? Viktor knows Jayce cares. He knows Jayce wants to help. But Jayce has the privilege of time, and Viktor doesn’t. That’s a gap that love and friendship alone can’t fix.

And here’s my hot take: Viktor’s biggest fear isn’t just dying. It’s dying without proving he mattered. His whole life, he’s been seen as weak, as fragile, as someone people pity. Hextech isn’t just about survival for him—it’s about legacy. It’s about making sure that when he’s gone, the world will remember him as something more than a sickly kid from the Undercity. And when you look at it that way, his whole arc stops being a “tragic downfall” and starts looking like the only path that ever made sense for him. Because if the alternative is fading away into nothing? Then yeah, of course he’s going to push further. Of course he’s going to risk everything. Because at least if he goes out, he goes out leaving something behind.

And that’s why the fact that people took Viktor’s name off Hextech is actually one of the most tragic things in the show. Like, Hextech wasn’t just some invention for him, it was his life’s work, his legacy, the thing that was supposed to make sure he was remembered. He built that with Jayce. It was supposed to be the proof that he mattered.

And then the second he wasn’t there to fight for his place in history? They erased him.

They didn’t just take away credit. They took away the one thing that kept him going, the thing that made all of his sacrifices mean something. Hextech was supposed to outlive him, and in a way, that was supposed to be his version of immortality. But now? Now it’s just “Jayce Talis’ great invention,” and Viktor is nothing more than a footnote.

Like, imagine dedicating your entire existence to something, burning yourself down to nothing just to make a mark on the world, only for people to turn around and act like you were never there to begin with. That’s not just tragic—it’s devastating. And the worst part? Viktor probably saw it coming. Because deep down, he always knew he wasn’t the kind of person history remembers.

[castleskies]

the brainrot continues and if i put it here maybe i'll write my own filler fic, but thinking about post veilguard rookanis:

specifically antivan crow rook

and what it means to be like, the plus one of the first talon

granted a first talon who has been a) up til recently missing in action, b) is an "abomination", c) a master assassin all the same!!

also a first talon who doesn't want the seat (purportedly) but wouldn't say no out of duty, which is the world's biggest conundrum because if anything lucanis really is a study (to me) of someone trying to be his own person and have his own mind but he's so duty bound + family first + he shares a body with spite... (with feet!)

like i have seen the posts where illario might be the better fit for the first talon. but also: illario was prepared to sacrifice his grandmother and cousin for his ambition and house dellamorte lost everything but the seat of the first talon and something nags at me about how ambition is great but family first is a running theme for the dellamortes–

(which hahaha as someone who read the wigmaker job i get a nagging sensation that lucanis is someone who wants change! but feels like he can't do it and so struggles with that and maybe that's why he wants to reject the position of first talon because he can't be who they want him to be, not with that heart of his)

anyway what i mean to say is that there is plenty of complexity in the idea of being an antivan crow and somehow finding yourself the other half of the first talon, who is also finding a sense of self, and what happens when you're their biggest weakness?

but bonus i guess you also took down two gods so–

when they said "we deserve a soft epilogue" i felt it deeply for rook and lucanis and yeah maybe i will write it!!!

[after-witch]

For the winter spirit - what could the reader do or be that would make him not love them? Maybe they weren’t as kind or appreciative post-sacrifice as they were when they were dying? Or maybe they say they hate him and mean it? Maybe they run away?

Or, if you’d rather not work with a prompt like that, (completely understandable!) maybe a scenario where the winter and the reader are separate and the reader encounters another season in his absence? Thank you!!

the first one I received & the last one in my inbx!! thanks for sending these in \o/

--

The man standing before you is not the winter spirit that whisked you into a world of white frost and glistening, ice-slicked trees.

He is not a human being, either, which is why you find yourself standing perfectly still. You know, somehow, a primal instinct, that he is an autumn spirit (the autumn spirit? You weren't quite sure on the mechanics of all this, and it wasn't a topic you ever wanted to broach) and what that means for you is uncertain.

After all, not all spirits are pleasant (and yours--if you can call him yours--is not always so) and the axe currently poised on his shoulders certainly isn't helping that impression.

He seems to notice you staring at it, and he slowly lowers it to the ground. The blade sticks in the almost mush-like leaves, all wet from still-melting morning frost.

"Hello," he says, all slow, low, his voice almost blending in with the sounds of the forest. And perhaps that's what he is, you think: a forest spirit.

"Hello," you reply, as lightly as you can, offering a curtsy. It was always a good idea, especially when you were alone, to be polite. Even without the axe lingering in your vision.

"You're a human," he says, simply. Then, after a moment. "Well. Not entirely, now."

Something like embarrassment shakes through you, and you couldn't say why, if asked. "I--it was winter... some time ago. They were going to kill me, you see, to stop the winter. And he took me instead."

You don't know why you feel comfortable telling a stranger all this. He's the first person--to use the term loosely--you've ever told.

"Ah," he says, as if everything has clicked neatly into place, although you are left in the dark as to what he thinks about it. As a spirit, he must be used to bargains, to sacrifices, to mortals being taken away. "I see."

"I didn't think..." He tilts his head, just a little, when you pause. "I didn't think I could meet you. Because of the winter, I mean. I never leave it."

He shrugs easily and hefts his axe onto his shoulders. There's a strain in the gesture, like he's used up all his strength. "We bleed together, sometimes." His nose wrinkles, an almost childish gesture on a weary face. "Don't much like the cold, myself." He gives you a look you don't understand. "But you look plenty warm enough."

With that he leaves, the forest crunching under his boots, and you turn away--back where the snow isn't quite to scant and the only axes you see are made from ice-glass.

[brocedestruther]

“how much can you change and get away with it, before you turn into someone else, before it's some kind of murder?”

[fagulaa]

Something I really love about the Silt Verses is how, in a world of gods and monsters, how grounded Faulkner's trauma [and relationship with his father] is. Especially as the season moves on, and the stakes amp up [and up] its so unexpectedly piercing to be presented with this exploration of childhood abandonment/negligence, inter-generational trauma, the indignities and stress that comes with unexpected elder care/early onset Alzheimer's. You're so locked in to these grander, more abstract concepts that your defenses are down! Mine were, anyway. TSV is so good at cutting its grand, complex plotlines with simpler [but not shallower] gutpunches, and it just grounds the whole thing.

[conundrumrespeculis]

Hey...

Has anyone considered the thought of like. Maybe some of the anger Wally displays towards Barry is because he came back from death a different person kinda?

He had an entirely different upbringing and went from "Knows a Guy" (that's so many of his old stories it's fantastic. Why does he know the local gorilla actor? He's just like that) to being isolated and alienated and then also had depression on top of that.

Imagine your dad comes back from the dead after leaving you with such a dark and thick shadow to crawl out of- that he only comes back AFTER you crawled out of- and then he's not even the same guy. He's not even the man that you remember because not only have you and everyone else built him up in your memory but half his life before becoming a hero was different.

And then. y'know. The whole "accidentally trapped most of the speedsters in the speedforce" thing. And also depression can change a person. And- there's a lot okay??

Barry after Flash Rebirth and especially after the new 52 reboot is a very different character to how he started/the man Wally knew as a kid and even now like. They look the same age??? Sometimes??? that's gotta be weird. I know they're speedsters but STILL...

...

Uhhhh anyways

TLDR: Some of Wally's anger at Barry is because he's irrevocably no longer the same as he was before his death

[rintinningvt]

Do not talk to me, I'm not over the fact that Betty's existence really revolves around Simon. They both love and care for each other, and grow obsessed when separated, but goddamn- When he told their love story to Fionna, she asked him "So you got on the bus with her?" and he replied in surprise "Why would I-?" Betty Grof's life revolved around Simon, before and after they started a relationship. Heck, even before they officially met. She dropped everything to be with him, losing her sense of self in the relationship. Simon loves her but he didn't (and still doesn't, debatably) have her wants and best interests in mind. They could have gone on that trip together, she could have gone alone but they could've shared some time together on the bus and gone long distance for a while. But they didn't. They were both so enamored with each other and both lost themselves in different ways to their relationship. They were doomed from the start.

[rearranging-deck-chairs]

hey so uh about your boyfriend. yeah i accidentally whumped him too hard and he regenerated. sorry

[astoryofsuchwoe]

i like to hurt my own feelings

[ipreferfiction]

i'm going insane thinking about my own ocs help

[llycaons]

while I enjoy an AU where sect cultivators stood by wwx in his defiance against the cultivation world or supported the wen remnants with him, they can't hit like canon does bc they always feel a little...hm. like if the author is super invested and insists THIS is what should have/would have happened its like they're missing the point of all the characters and their arcs?

[windupaidoneus]

pondering. how hilde felt picking up drk. one of emet's canon classes. did it feel familiar... did he feel some measure of embarrassment when he didn't perform well enough. when fray would get upset with him did he instinctively shut him down because he would expect someone else to nag. someone who he could not even begin to put a name or face on, it just feels like something... innate. this reflex to bite back defensively when he messes up while watched by someone more skilled than him in something. he's not prideful by nature but something within him just pushes him to have some sort of ego when it comes to this in particular

& how he felt when entering ktisis hyperboreia & here emet, "great sorcerer of eld", expected black mage, goes & conjures his weapon of choice for the occasion - a greatsword he's putting to use to protect his party members with the power of the darkness within, though he wouldn't readily admit to it

[anthromimicry]

where do you carry your pain?

your arms.

you have tried to hold onto what is dear to you, only for it to be wrenched from your hands...

tagged by: @divingdownthehole!

tagging: @frostise, @redvived, @dispatched, @twcfaces, @vulpesse, and anyone else who might like to do this quiz!

[twpsyn-who]

Stiles Stilinski is my favorite/comfort character, which means that I have a deeply desire to ship him with everyone, wish pain and suffering upon himself and an unresolved need to read 'Dead Stiles Stilinski' fics.

I need more angst in my life. I need him to suffer

[infizero]

shut UPPPPPPPPPPP someone just put the clip of tiny manticore telling betty "maybe you're going after someone who doesn't exist anymore" with simon trying to bring back betty back ohhhh i feel sick