#especially my fics

[moreespressoformydepresso]

knock knock ⭐ losing battle plssss

(future me adding this later because I want people to see this without reading this whole mess: In The Losing Battle, Lamina loves Treech while Tanner loves the idea of Treech. Explanation is at the end of the post below)

Omg okay there is so much I could and want to talk about but I'd be writing several essays so I'll try to keep this contained to one thing. If anyone else is interested I'll ramble about the other stuff because there is so much that I haven't put into text yet or have kept vague/implied so far (IE what exactly happened between Treech and Vipsania during the interviews and dynamics between characters that are neither Treech nor Lamina). A lot of it is due to perspective restraints, because I love me an unreliable narrator to the point where I've never written anything that didn't contain it to some degree but it does make it difficult to fully get across what the character thinks vs what's actually happening around them. There's a lot of smaller inaccuracies in their perception of reality that I don't see anyone mentioning (though to be fair not many people talk to me about the fic) so I don't know if anyone caught them or not. A shame, really, because I've put a stupid amount of thought into them.

Also, there's just so much to say about all my fics but especially this one! I could talk about all the different motivations of characters who aren't very present or the tensions building in the background or the deep explanations of why characters do what they do that TreeMina isn't self-aware or present enough for to realize or I could talk about how this whole fic's basic premise is the soul-crushing reality that major, world-shattering changes on a personal level barely have any impact on the bigger picture until decades in the future but I'll pick just one. Oohh this is gonna be difficult I just really want to type whatever comes to mind but I can't. But! That's enough useless introductory words. Onto the unhinged ramblings of a mad entity!

The mini LumberHouse subplot! Otherwise known as why Tanner really doesn't like Lamina in this fic, even if it isn't that apparent due to how small his role is in the story.

I'm choosing Tanner because I have a lot to say about him, but unlike the main duo or Vipsania and Pup, Tanner isn't gonna get a big spotlight chapter as it stands right now. Maybe as a mini spin off one-shot but I'm not planning on it. Vip and Pup will get more focus later, especially once Treech and Lamina are out of the arena, but Tanner just doesn't have enough impact on the story to get that. Which is the intention here.

My basic idea for Tanner is that he's someone who very clearly has his own life and complicated emotions during the games, with pain and drama and the whole shebang, but it all happens in the background. You can get a good idea of his struggles if you pay attention but it's just as easy to read past and not even notice, because he's not a main character. He's my representation for the way all these kids had their own stories that could just have easily been the one you were reading, but you aren't. So you only get glimpses whenever one of the actual main characters is close enough to take note. Most of his story is implied, with enough room for other people to have different interpretations than what I intended. The timeline in my head for the Tanner/Treech arc of Tanner's life is as follows:

Tanner didn't even really notice Treech before the arena bombing. Sure, he enjoyed the singing and he knew his name, but at most he really noticed him due to his proximity to Lamina, who Tanner tended to pay attention to due to her crying. Then Treech had the balls to turn Coral's offer down during the bombing. and Tanner really started to see Treech. The way he shared all of his food, the small ways in which he showed kindness, the way his face lit up so prettily when he smiled. Tanner became intrigued, but only ever from a distance. With dawning horror he realizes he's developed a crush on a boy he'll be forced to kill in a matter of days, and he can't even go and talk to him. When they meet up in the arena, it's no accident. Tanner deliberately snuck away from Coral and Mizzen to see if he could catch a glimpse of Treech and possibly even talk to him, if only to give himself some closure. When he finds Treech with Dill, his feelings deepen, but when he hears Lamina calling for him... When he sees the way those two interact, he knows he's lost. He lost before he even began.

See, Tanner dislikes Lamina, but it's not for anything she's done. It's because she has what he wants to have: A connection with Treech. She's had years to get to know him and spend time with him, and Tanner didn't even get an hour. Now, he's not stupid, Tanner knows that he and Treech were never gonna be a thing because no shit, one of them is gonna have to die here, but it doesn't lessen the jealousy. It doesn't erase the what-ifs and the might-have-beens. And unlike Lamina, Tanner doesn't get to spend his last few days with someone he cares about. Brandy's gone and Treech is at the top of his alliance's blacklist. Whether he lives or dies, he'll have spent these days as good as alone.

The biggest difference between Tanner and Lamina that made TreeMina endgame instead of LumberHouse is that Tanner has a crush where Lamina is in love. One of the most painful things for Tanner is that he knows he could've loved Treech if he'd had the time, and maybe it could have been mutual, but they don't. Lamina did have that time, and over the years she and Treech fell in love far past a simple crush. Basically, Lamina is scared of losing what she has where Tanner laments what might have been if things were just a little different. Tanner doesn't actually know Treech, they've barely spoken to each other, and while he has a good grasp of who Treech is due to what he's seen so far, he's only seen bits and pieces of his person. Therefore, he can't really love Treech. He has a crush on him, and he loves the idea of Treech he has in his head based on what he's observed. How accurate that image of him is, is a whole different question. Lamina, meanwhile, has had years to get to know him. She and Treech have shared many vulnerable, personal moments together and their bond has grown incredibly strong over the years. Not even betrayal could fully break it. Lamina truly loves Treech, because she knows him better than anyone else. From his strengths to his biggest flaws, she's seen them all and she loves him for it.

Lamina gets to stay with Treech because she knows him in ways Tanner will never get the chance to, and he hates her for it.

[princess-pine-cone]

[fox-guardian]

man this sucks (<- likes a niche character that hardly has any fan content)

[paintedcrows]

Some Fords! (and Martin K Blackwood is also there)

[hellojuiceboxbaby]

Regulus is the type of sibling that would make fun of the way Sirius dresses (calling him tacky and tasteless every chance he gets) and then turns around and steals the very clothes he this is “unfashionable”. He’ll walk around the house in Sirius’ band tshirts and be caught leaving the house in his leather jackets because “they look better with his outfit” than anything he owns himself. Regulus will look him up and down and without blinking say “you’re going out dressed like that” and then copy the outfit word for word a week later.

[somnimagus]

My page for @sheikahzine; about Impaz's duty to her village, empty of people and full of memories.

[id in alt text]

[choccy-milky]

part 3 to my modern AU 💞🍺 (part 1 / part 2)

[doctorsiren]

the doodles I did while flying back home today

[k1tty5]

another design for the au i’m working on (cough cough thinking about)

[ink-stains-and-constellations]

Why are there not, like... platonic x reader fics. Like, I don't wanna date these characters, I just want to hang out with them and crack jokes and banter and get takeaway and play videogames and maybe even hug and bop them on the head and just have affectionate platonic physical contact??? I want to read a fic about being friends with them, and yet all I can find is romantic reader insert fics.

[evansbuck-ley]

the first halloween that buck and tommy’s son is old enough to go trick or treating he is insistent in keeping his costume secret - well secret from one parent bc someone needs to pay. and unfortunately for buck he is the parent that is kept out of the loop. and even more unfortunate for buck is that this is the year that he had to work Halloween, so tommy promises to bring henry to the firehouse before he takes him trick or treating.

halloween rolls around and buck is basically vibrating out of his skin bc he just got a text from tommy to tell him their are on the way and he is beyond excited to see his boys. and suddenly there comes the world smallest firefighter sprinting towards buck with tommy not too far behind trying his best to keep up. buck takes in the sight in front of him. bc henry could have dress up as Dracula or Spider-Man but no hes dressed as buck. from the plastic helmet that sat wonky on his head and had “118” scribbled on the front . to buckley-kinard that was neatly printed on the back on his jacket. all the way down to his little yellow rain boots poking out the bottom of his turnouts.

and from behind buck he could hear hen and eddie cooing at the sight of the boy and he could see chimney come to stand next to tommy to take a million pictures that he knows is being sent to maddie - because yes buck we need pictures of everything he does, we need to fill his baby box!

then henry is jumping up and down in front of him so excited and he’s rambling. look daddy I’m you. do you like it? papa said that you would love it. i’m going to be a firefighter when I grow up daddy. can we go see grampy bobby after papa? I want to show him. and god, he is buck’s double and buck just can’t hold it together anymore. he lets a tear slip down his cheek and he scoops the boy in his arms and holds him tight to his chest. and in his head he is thanking whatever god out there that gave him this.

this family. this love. his whole world.

[maladaptivewriting]

if sirius and regulus are going to do one thing, it’s dramatically leave a room

[maesonc-artistic-adventures]

Based on Chapt 13 of @cutebutalsostabby ‘s fanfic “Big Oof 2022, aka Whumptober”

“‘You,’ Hyrule declared furiously, ‘are an absolute, complete dumbass.’

Lying prone on the ground with a deeply pissed-off mage looming above his head, it was rather difficult for Warriors to argue the point. He gave a weak thumbs up and croaked back, ‘Yep.’

Hyrule shook his head disbelievingly and announced, ‘You and Legend give me shit for this all the time, but you’re both equally as bad.’

Warriors nodded. ‘Very true,’ he rasped peaceably. ‘Be sure to learn from our bad examples.’”

————————————

Hyrule and Warrior’s dynamic is so excellent and few do it as well as this fic!

[zolanort]

“New rule. No one pushes anyone into lava for any reason.” Time glared at the trio avoiding his gaze, “and that goes for you three especially. Just because your animations are funny doesn’t mean everyone else’s are too.”

Scene from The Consequences of Falling in Lava as a Videogame Character by @tachvintlogic

This one genuinely makes me laugh every time

[stevebabey]

@scooprtroopr ur tags on this post inspired a lil something and well, here you go friend <3 / also omg this fits for @steddie-week’s prompt pining! tehe / you can also read it over on ao3 :)

Steve gets that this is how karma works.

You do something bad, you don’t have the best intentions, you trample on one or two people’s feelings selfishly, yadda yadda. Then what do you know? Next month, it’s happening to you. What goes around comes around, right?

That’s how karma works. Steve gets that.

And yet, the sting in the morning when another hookup has crept out in the night feels so goddamn unshakeable. It slices through his ego, hitting every feeling on the way, and cuts right down the bone, and it hurts.

But it’s karma though, Steve knows that. He’s left a girl more than once or twice, and snuck back out the window he had crept into. Stumbled back to his car in the early morning hours.

(Steve pointedly ignores the old part of him that was- is so hesitant to stay — after the iciness of his first ever hookup, who had wrinkled her nose at the thought of him staying the night.

Who had patted him on the cheek in a near condescending way, a girl the year above him, and said, “Don’t overstay your welcome, yeah?”)

So when the other side of the bed is empty when he wakes, he knows he’s lost another game of ‘who can sneak out on who?’

Which Steve hates — it’s why he stopped going over to his dates house and instead started bringing them back to his. Hoping they might read that his invitation to stay the night extended right out til breakfast. Hell, til lunch if they wanted.

No one has come close to overstaying their welcome in the Harrington house.

Empty sheets rip a new ache in Steve’s chest and he groans, a pitiful noise because— of course, he hasn’t stayed.

Karma has the biggest bone to pick with Steve Harrington and he was really hoping it would be done after all these years. Evidently not.

But… Steve can’t help how much more this one hurts because this one was Eddie.

Steve tries to not let regret coil in his gut. Rolling over he buries his face into his pillow, eyes scrunched shut as he tries to think it over logically. Rationally. Ignores the burning in his throat.

Maybe he’s a fool for thinking Eddie would be different from the past.

But the buildup — before there had been flirting, there had been friendship, proper company between the two of them where there were no expectations. That may very well be due to the fact both of them were dudes but… Steve was so sure. So much of him believed Eddie would still be here when he woke up.

Steve huffs a loud sigh into the pillow. Pretends his chest doesn’t hurt a little bit.

“It’s fine,” He murmurs to himself, voice thick with sleep. His fists clench into the sheets for a moment. “It’s fine.”

He drags himself up and out of bed. Tugs on some stray sweats hanging over the back of his desk chair and ducks into the bathroom. Staring in the mirror, hair tousled and eyes still sleepy, Steve eyes the shower through the reflection. He should, probably, but he might get stuck on a loop in there.

Where did he go wrong this time? Why didn’t he stay? Why didn’t any of them stay? Why did—

Steve splashes cold water on his face instead, rubbing probably a bit too forcefully at his eyes. He spies the faint pink shape of Eddie’s lips, a mark left on his neck. His fingers grace over it lightly, softly, like a lover would.

Memories hazed with lust remind him of how it had got there, Eddie’s body on his, Eddie’s hands in his hair, Eddie— without thinking, Steve scrubs at the skin harshly. He wishes it wasn’t there. Wishes there wasn’t any remnant of Eddie left behind.

Steve doesn’t need any mementos to remind him he’s been left behind again.

He needs food, needs to get on with his day, Steve decides. The bathroom door swings closed behind him and Steve tries his best to wrangle his thoughts as he wanders out to the top of the stairs.

A run. That’s what he needs to clear his head. A long run til his heart is pounding in his chest so hard it hurts, til his muscles start burning, breathes coming too fast and his head is finally fucking quiet. Yep, that’s precisely what he needs to shake the sting of last night.

Steve’s so enwrapped in his head, thoughts swirling, that he get manages to get halfway down the hall to the kitchen before he hears the radio. It’s not loud, just enough to carry out the kitchen. Strange. He doesn’t remember leaving it on last night.

His feet carry him into the kitchen, another yawn creeping up and he rubs at his eyes, blinking a bit blearily and— and stops in his tracks. There’s someone at the stove.

Eddie’s at the stove.

Standing in the morning sunlight, hair lighter than ever, puckered scars along his arms standing out. He’s clearly ransacked Steve’s drawers, a pair of Steve’s plaid pj pants hanging low on his hips, his own softened band tee from yesterday still on. It’s had its sleeves hacked off, the fabric curling up into little rolls. Steve feels his stomach rise halfway up his throat, his hopes going with it. His heart does a strange stumbling pitter-patter.

He must make a noise because suddenly Eddie’s peaking over his shoulder and smiling at him.

“Hey,” Eddie says, shifting a bit to turn more toward him. Steve can see that he’s cooking, something delicious wafting up from the sizzling pan. His chest tightens, pure surprise wrapping around his sternum and gripping - so much, he can’t control the expression on his face.

“Hi,” Steve breathes. He’s still frozen where he is. He stayed. Steve blinks, taking in the scene before him; Eddie has clearly been puttering around, putting together some sort of breakfast. He fucking stayed and he’s cooking.

Eddie takes it the wrong way. He skittishly looks over the benches, covered in his mess, and tugs on the ends of his hair nervously. “I- it’s a mess, I know, I’m real sorry. I was gonna clean it, I just thought you might like…”

He trails off, unable to get a read on Steve’s expression. Steve doesn’t blame him but he can’t fucking stop his chest from feeling like it’s being pulled open, his heart from feeling like it’s soaring. He huffs an awed laugh, a smile curling at his lips.

Eddie deflates a bit in his relief, giving his own smile. He turns back to the stove quickly, giving the skillet a bit of a shake to keep it from burning and Steve draws closer, feet finally moving. Eddie watches him from the corner of his eye, barely biting back his grin as Steve gets closer. He hovers, feels the heat of Eddie’s back they’re so close.

He tries to feel brave — he stayed — and keeps his closeness, peering over Eddie’s shoulder at the skillet on the stove. It’s the Munson Special that Eddie’s cooked a few times for him over at the trailer; eggs, potatoes, shit tons of cheese, maybe a vegetable if he’s feeling healthy.

“Was gonna bring it to you in bed, but,” Eddie laughs, still tinged in nervousness. He sets down the spatula to tuck his hair behind both ears, glancing sideways at Steve as if trying to understand his silence.

He stayed and he cooked and he’s nervous. Steve thinks he might be holding his breath in disbelief, head dizzy with relief. With affection.

Very slowly, Steve’s hands move and, like he’s waiting for Eddie to flinch away, settles then very gently onto Eddie’s waist. His fingers curl into the soft fabric and Eddie makes a little chirp of happiness and leans back.

Leans into Steve a bit, like he wants his touch the morning after everything and Steve releases a shuddering breath, hooking his chin over Eddie’s shoulder. His hands grow a little more bold, sliding around to hug him around the middle.

Eddie’s cheeks have turned pink and his grin hasn’t faltered.

“Made me—” Steve starts, but his voice is a bit raspy. He clears his throat, avoids Eddie’s burning stare. “Y’made me breakfast?”

Eddie nods, his curls brushing against Steve’s cheek as he does. His tummy is warm beneath Steve’s hand and his hair smells good and Steve just wants to burrow into him- he tucks himself closer and is rewarded with a content noise from Eddie.

“That’s not weird, is it?” Eddie asks suddenly, picking up the spatula again and beginning to fiddle needlessly with the food. He flips it once, then again, so it’s on the same side as it was before.

He sounds a bit sheepish when he says, “I’m not sure- I haven’t ever really— I’m actually just gonna shut the hell up before I say anything stupid.”

Steve laughs quietly. His hands tighten around Eddie’s middle, head tilting so he can bury his grin into his shoulder— his heart is going haywire, going a million miles an hour, because karma is finally through with Steve Harrington and he gets to have this.

“S’not weird,” Steve mumbles. He thinks about pressing a kiss into Eddie’s shoulder.

“Ha, you said snot,” Eddie retorts with a childish snort and Steve can’t help it, he laughs at that too, muffled laughter into his t-shirt. Then he presses a kiss to Eddie’s shoulder, quick as lightning. Rests his chin back on it like nothing happened.

Eddie still stiffens just a bit- turns his head just a bit to glance at Steve and fuck, Steve can’t help the way his stomach swoops.

Because Eddie softens him unbearably with those nervous brown eyes, his pink lips twisted as he tries to hold back his grin. Steve’s beginning to understand that both of them seem equally surprised that this is happening.

Eddie’s free hand moves, pausing only briefly in a moment's hesitance, before it covers one of Steve’s on his tummy. It’s cold, much colder than Steve’s, and he covers it with one of his own instinctively.

Eddie’s trembling fingers give him a little squeeze. Steve thinks he must be able to feel how hard his heart is beating from where his chest is pressed against his back. It’s a lot to deal with; this perfect morning in the sun, the soft sound of the radio, the sweet boy in his arms.

They’re both grinning to themselves. Eddie focuses back on the food before him, doing all his work with one hand, and starts a little hum.

The radio switches to a love song.

[theminecraftbee]

Grian had taken her aside quietly. He'd awkwardly talked around the idea of her remembering now; apparently, he didn't know if her victory counted. She'd rubbed the back of her head and hadn't quite realized what he was talking about and said something about the games and, ah. Apparently she does remember now. Apparently the victory counts. Apparently this means he needs to say sorry.

Cleo considers not accepting the apology. Grian would get the wrong idea then. If she said: you don't need to apologize for shit, or maybe, there's nothing to apologize for, he'd take that as: you are exactly as bad as you're convinced you are. Honestly, Cleo's not sure whether that means Grian would decide he'd done nothing wrong or everything, but that's besides the point.

She'd never not remembered, is the point.

Frankly, Cleo hadn't realized people were meant to be not remembering. She's honestly a bit embarrassed not to have figured it out. Surely that can't be right. Cleo has held every single slight and every single ally and every single person she has ever connected to right in her ribcage, next to where her carved-out, unbeating, torn-up heart lies, the entire time these games have gone on. Each game, a new fact carved into the bone that makes them up.

Names ribbon around her memories. Bdubs and the Crastle and Scott and soulmates and Pearl and friend-turned-foe and Etho and survivor and Bigb and traitor and Scar and son and everything else. She wouldn't be the same at all if she didn't remember. Everything she is, it's built on top of everyone that was.

Maybe it's a zombie thing. The undead are said to be memories that can't fade as much as anything else, after all.

But she can't really explain this to Grian, of course. If nothing else, that would require explaining the place he's taken next to her heart, too, and frankly, that's way too mushy for the both of them. What ends up coming out her mouth is: "Oh. Does that really change anything?"

Grian stares at her a moment.

"You know, I guess not?" he says.

"Right then," Cleo says. "Cool. Good to know my victory means nothing then."

Grian squawks. "You can't just say it like that! That's depressing!"

Good enough.

She buries 'not-supposed-to-remember' 'not-sure-if-it-counts' 'laughing-as-scott-dies' and 'I-have-always remembered' in the same place in her ribcage, so she won't forget it, and then she does the thing that sets her apart from the common zombie:

She moves on.