#fic: in the meantime

[valtsv]

my main advice for writing an enemies to lovers relationship is to resist the urge to make the characters' loathing and attraction mutually exclusive opposing forces. it's okay if they're getting weirdly into it and having Thoughts whilst also sincerely wanting to kill each other with hammers.

[frownyalfred]

“Why are you bullying Hal Jordan so much in this fic?” Because it’s funny. Because it’s funny and he’s not a real person.

[a-most-beloved-fool]

spirk using telepathy to keep each other alive. kirk, desperate, psy-null and untrained, reaching clumsily into spock's dying mind and pulling, dragging spock's essence into himself, wrenching him forceably from the very jaws of death and holding him there through sheer strength of will, saying you can't die, i won't let you, you can't leave me, i need you, and binding him to life and to himself until it's impossible to fully separate them. spock, more skilled, carefully managing each one of kirk's vital signs - keeping his heart beating steady, his lungs drawing breath, his temperature within a safe range, all while suppressing kirk's pain, and at the same trying, vainly, to keep their minds from tying themselves inexorably together, but they're pressed too close and he can't, and he hopes that kirk will forgive him, for bonding them like this (he will, of course he will), but the alternative, letting kirk die, was - unthinkable.

[arcanegifs]

Three CaitVi fics I've read over the holigays

be but sworn my love (E) by antant616

This fic is literally the trope of: slow burn but they're fucking the entire time. Also, CaitVi here are exes who are forced to play Romeo and Juliet in a play and ooooo the drama! I'm HOOKED.

Dear Stranger, (T) by becasbelt | tumblr

If you want to cry, read this. Absolutely beautiful canon-compliant fic. And for real, just read all of Anne's works. They're amazing ❤️

lucid dreams ‘bout you (M) by rosetattoos

Oh GOD I've never been so happy to see an update for a fic before. The last time this librarian!cait fic updated was like two years ago, and I gave up waiting for it. But lo and behold, what a GIFT for the holidays!!

[pa-pa-plasma]

[ashanimus]

Fanart from @carpisuns's seriously adorable fic, the Death Defying Flirting Methods of Willow Park!

[thebibliosphere]

I don't know if I'll ever finish it, but occasionally, I am reminded that I started writing crackfic based on a dream I had after playing too much Garden Life and also reading too many Nightwing comics, and I'll open up the document and laugh myself sick at how awful a time Slade Wilson is having in my haunted flower shop AU.

He's been ripped body and soul out of his genre and into a cozy Hallmark movie with undercurrents of cosmic horror, and there's nothing he can do about it. Worst of all, the human he kidnapped is unkillable. At least by him.

---

Slade took a menacing step forward, then stopped dead in his tracks, unable to move another inch. "The fuck."

He looked down at his boots, struggling to uproot them from the dirt-strewn floor. When that failed, he gave up and took a desperate swing across the shop counter. The little witch didn't even flinch. She didn't need to. The same invisible force wrapped around his arm, holding it in place as he strained his outstretched hand toward her neck.

"What the fuck did you do?" he demanded, arm shaking as sweat began to bead down his brow.

"Me?" she asked, far too innocently, like butter wouldn't melt in that smug, annoying mouth. "Bless your heart, dearie, that's not me. That's the plot armor."

"Plot what?"

"Armor," she repeated slowly for him. "I know you're familiar with the word. I've seen that discounted Spirit Halloween ensemble you call a costume."

Slade snarled, renewing his efforts to crush her windpipe. "I know the word. What does it mean?"

"It means I'm protected. The story can't advance without me, so you're stuck with me." She smiled sweetly. "Lucky you."

"Story? What story? What the fuck are you talking about?"

"This one," she said, gesturing around them as though that explained anything. "The one we're in. The one you pulled me into. The one I can't leave until you figure out whatever the fuck you're supposed to be doing. So if you could hurry up and do that, that'd be great. I've got shit to do, and it doesn't involve holding your hand through whatever bullshit character arc crisis you're going through."

"Lady," Slade breathed out through gritted teeth, "you are fucking insane."

"Oh, sweety," she drawled, leaning across the counter and causing his arm to draw back of its own volition, not allowing him to get a hold of her throat, as she patted him condescendingly on the cheek. Clearly, whatever bullshit proximity magic she was pulling didn't apply to her ability to touch him. "You don't know the half of it."

[haydardotjpg]

🌳🌊 happiness 💚💙

their height difference is perfect for taigen to give mizu nose kisses :]

[wynnyfryd]

hey, quick question but what if Eddie hadn’t just said “make him pay” at the end? what if he’d actually done it, screwed up his face and his single scrap of courage and kissed Steve hard, one desperate press of lips before he stepped back out of Steve’s space? Only…

Only Steve’s not gay. He’s not. Not that there’s anything wrong with it if Eddie is, but he isn’t. Steve likes girls, is kind of hung up on one girl in particular, actually, and she’s standing right behind him watching this go down, and oh, God is this awkward now.

He squares his shoulders, gives Eddie a nod that he hopes conveys something like “sorry” and “it’s okay” and “I’m not gonna punch you when this is over, man, I’m really not,” but Eddie’s eyes cut away and he clears his throat and then Nancy’s saying, “Steve? Steve, we need to go.”

So Steve goes.

Steve goes, trudges through the woods with Nancy radiating uncomfortable energy all down his side, and Steve’s got a pit in his stomach and a scorch mark on his mouth where Eddie’s lips left a fucking brand, the kiss repeating on a loop in his mind. He starts thinking about how he’s probably about to die, how he’s gonna die feeling all upside down in the Upside Down and it’s a really stupid joke but it gets him mulling over the fucked up weird life he has now versus the one he always kinda thought he wanted. He tells Nancy about it: the crawling backwards, the thump on the head, how she’s always his co-captain in his Winnebago dreams.

She looks at him with soft, sad eyes — God, her eyes are always so sad, have been ever since the day Barb disappeared — and she rests a delicate hand on his forearm and asks, “Do you think… do you think maybe it’s always me in your dream because I’m the only person your mind thinks it’s allowed to put there?”

“What do you mean?”

“Steve.” Her eyes aren’t so soft now. They’re shining with that hard glint they get when she’s lost patience with Steve’s bullshit. It’s a look Steve knows well, and his hand comes up to touch his lips.

“But I- I’m not…”

“Just go,” she says, her jaw set, all that unbreakable resolve on display. “Robin and I can handle this. Go.”

Robin turns back to look at him over her shoulder, gives him an encouraging nod, and Steve takes off running, sprinting through the trees, following the sound of screeching bats.

When he bursts through the treeline, panting and sweating and clutching at his torn-up sides, Eddie’s in the middle of a maelstrom, his makeshift shield held in a shaking grip as an army of bats encircle him.

“Eddie!” Steve shouts, lungs burning as he begs his feet to move faster, to run fucking run because one of the bats dives at Eddie’s head and another takes a bite out of his leather sleeve; a third one whips a tail around Eddie’s ankle and then Eddie’s going down, pulled to the cracked, filthy earth by gnashing teeth and bloodied claws, and they’re eating him, getting at all those squishy vital bits around his middle when Steve finally hacks his way through the horde to get to Eddie’s side. Armed with an ax and Eddie’s spear, Steve strikes and slashes blindly at the wall of shrieking monsters as they start circling tighter, caging them in, and he’s dead they’re both dead they’re so fucking screwed—

The bats drop. All at once and with no reason Steve can discern, their screams fall silent and their bodies squelch all around them as they slap the hard ground like dead fish on a dock.

Steve drops to his knees beside Eddie, and Jesus Christ, there’s- there’s so much blood oh God oh fuck.

“Bad, huh?” Eddie asks, and how is he still smirking when there’s blood spilling out of his mouth? When there’s a chunk missing out of his jaw?

“Jesus Christ, Jesus Christ, Jesus Christ,” Steve mumbles frantically, not sure if he’s praying or panicking or both. He gets his shirt off, rips at the remaining scraps of Eddie’s, too; starts using them to make bandages. “Shit, Eddie, just- just hold on, okay? Stay with me.”

He wriggles a scrap of fabric under Eddie’s brutalized torso, and Eddie screams when Steve pulls it tight around his sides, ties it off and presses down, trying to slow the bleeding. There’s so much fucking blood. His knees slip in it as he ties a tourniquet just above Eddie’s elbow, hoping it’ll save Eddie’s mangled arm, and he bunches the last of the fabric up and presses it to the shredded edges of the wound on Eddie’s face.

Eddie smiles up at him with tears in his eyes, with blood on his lips. “Pretty- pretty grand gesture for a guy you don’t want to kiss.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Steve says, and he’s crying, too. “I don’t- I just…”

“Steve,” Eddie chokes, his breath whistling out with a sickening wheeze, and Steve doesn’t know how the fuck he’s going to get him through the gate and back to safety without making him bleed out. “Steve, it’s… s’okay. M’sorry I kissed you, man.” His eyes are glazing over, and no, please, please, don’t—

Eddie looks up at him, brow furrowed, like it’s taking a lot of effort. His eyes are still so pretty, even now, as Steve hovers helplessly and watches the light slowly leave them. “Actually, I- I guess m’not,” Eddie slurs. “Had to do it at least once b-before I- before I—”

“EDDIE!!!!” a furious, cracking voice echoes through the empty park. Eddie’s trailer door bangs open, falling off its hinges, and a limping Dustin Henderson comes storming across the lot.

“Dustin!!” Steve hollers back, relief flooding his veins like maple syrup straight from the tap, and incredibly (hysterically, he’s probably in shock), he’s laughing when he looks back down at Eddie. Eddie, who’s half dead in his lap, whose blood is all over Steve’s pants. Who Steve might be able to save now.

He shakes Eddie’s shoulders and says, “You can kiss me all you want when we make it out of here, man,” his voice all high-pitched and full of phlegm and trapped somewhere between a laugh and a sob, and Eddie’s eyes go wide at the promise in Steve’s words.

“Dustin!” Steve yells again, pleading, “Dustin, come on, come help me move him!”

It’s slow going, but they get Eddie through the gate, get him taped up so he’s more bandage than boy by the time the ambulance arrives. A medic claps Steve on the shoulder and says ‘You did good, kid,’ and Steve cries at that and then spends an annoying amount of time crying over the next few days, curled up in a rickety chair at Eddie’s bedside in the hospital.

More tears when Eddie finally wakes up. Happy ones this time, and there’s a parade of people coming in to hug Eddie and give him flowers and even Hopper gives him a grudging hair ruffle and an attaboy, and then Steve’s driving Eddie home in the Beemer; gets all the way to the driveway before Eddie brings it up.

“Did you mean it?” he asks, his voice timid and barely audible over the hum of the car.

Steve cuts the engine. “Hmm?”

“Did you, um- the thing, that you…” Eddie spins a ring around on his finger, lets out a frustrated huff. “I mean, I didn’t die, right? I made it out of there, so…?”

You can kiss me all you want when we make it out of here.

Steve’s ears burn at the memory, his mouth going dry, and he must take too long to answer because Eddie starts trying to backpedal. “Sorry. Sorry, you said you’re not— I just thought, maybe— shit, uh, f-forget I said-”

“No! No, um.” Steve scratches the back of his neck. “Turns out I kind of am. Or, like. Well, I mean, Robin said liking both is its own thing, it’s not a mix of the two, but…”

“…But both?” Eddie finishes, and his eyes are sparkling.

“Yeah. Both,” Steve shrugs. It’s getting easier to say. “…Mostly just you, though.”

“Oh, just mostly, huh?” Eddie teases, unbuckling his seatbelt so he can lean into Steve’s space.

Steve’s face feels too warm. His neck is probably all splotchy. “Whatever. Are you gonna shut up and kiss me already or what?”

“Uh huh,” Eddie grins and runs his tongue over his teeth. “Many times as I want, right?” He brushes Steve’s hair behind his ear, his calloused fingers so gentle against Steve’s jaw as he lines their faces up.

“How many times is that?” Steve whispers.

“Mm….” Eddie’s mouth brushes against his. “Start counting and let’s find out.”

[midnight-mourning]

Holiday spirit doodles/rough sketches to get the juices flowing, yes this is exactly how everything went in ch. 2 definitely mhm mhm

apologies to the non-fem readers I just wanted to draw a pretty dress, forgive me 😔

more closeups below the cut

[star4daisy]

Partition

the one where Barty and Evan fuck Reg in a limo

[padfootastic]

oooh i have thoughts about codependent golden trio, stay with me for a second:

- ron and hermione slowly training harry out of his touch aversion by consistently showering him with small, gentle, touches. they never make it a Thing, it’s so casual harry himself forgets it’s happening a bit, but it’s crucial for him to become comfortable with being touched by anyone

- slowly, as years go by and harry’s nightmares become worse, ron progressively moves from calling his name, to waking him up, to putting a hand on his shoulder(s), to practically moving into his bed to wrap himself around harry. the first time it happened, ron’s face was fire truck red and harry was baffled to the point of incoherence (and for a second, it seemed like all their progress so far would be undone) but as before, they slowly chipped away at harry’s defences with steady support

- hermione, who was able to tweak the protean charm for the DA, created a more specific one more her and ron. if the nightmares were particularly bad, he would ping for her and she would immediately bustle up to the boys dorms. this is rly how she became so comfortable up there and after a bit, the other boys realised why she was there and let her go about the golden trio business in peace.

- and so you have harry waking up with ron and hermione in his bed pretty regularly. they were able to figure out how to expand it pretty early on (combination of some theorising and dobby’s magic) so now all that’s left is figuring out nightly configurations. more often than not, it’s either hermione or ron in the middle bc harry cannot abide being boxed in both ends. but both of them always have an arm of leg on some part of harry, as if to reassure him, even in sleep, that they will never let go.

- some point on fifth year, when he’s so fucked by the voldy visions, the only way he gets any sleep is when ron’s tucked him under his arm and on his lap, or hermione has her hands carding through his hair and head on her thigh, turned towards her stomach as if protecting him from the world. he falls asleep in the common room armchair in front of the fire with ron’s hand around his calf, massaging lightly, and hermione perched on one side of it, arm around his shoulders.

- during the horcrux hunt, this only became more common. there were very few nights they did not sleep in the same bed. privacy was almost nonexistent. they often had to bathe one another when they couldn’t get out of bed due to the grief, or went catatonic with shock etc etc.

- after the war is when people slowly started realising their tendency to be so close. until then, no one really paid attention to these three kids, atleast not so closely. but now all eyes are on them. and so the adults, the order and the weasleys and remus and sirius, see how they go into the same room at the end of the day, come out of it together in the morning. how harry using the bathroom doesn’t stop hermione from going in to brush her teeth, or ron walks around in just a towel without any hesitation when it’s the two of them but yelps and covers up when anyone else walks in.

- they see how hermione hates having her hair touched but will happily fall into a light doze when one of the boys is playing with it, and harry, who will go stiff as a board when someone so much as brushes against his side, will literally melt into a puddle when ron or hermione hug him tight. they’ve never seen ron as calm, or as settled, as when he’s around the other two—he has a purpose, and it’s never been more clearer than in those moments.

[bluvlet]

Trolley Problem text posts part 3 (part 1, part 2)

[tf-rechargeandrebound]

Ok I redesigned them for the last goddamn time

TFR Autobot designs ^^ (I'm sorry if the colours look fucked up idk how to fix exporting stuff)

Character profiles beneath the cut

Optimus Prime

Allegiance: Autobot

Alt mode: Freightliner semi truck

Occupation: Autobot commander, current Prime

Likes: Cybertronian history, reading, Earth’s general vibe, long drives, peace and quiet

Dislikes: His position as Prime (he’s not very vocal about it though), snakes, icy roads, large social functions, taking breaks from all that gosh darn paperwork

Once a humble dock worker named Orion Pax, Optimus Prime is the leader of the Autobot Resistance, and is being counted on to save his home from the Decepticons. Any Autobot would describe him as wise, kind, stoic, somewhat stern, and a great leader who can sometimes get grumpy when stressed or tired. His most trusted officers and family, such as Elita-1, know that he’s also rather socially awkward and a bit of a bookworm. He cares deeply for every single Autobot under his command, and has grown to care for Earth as well. He generally dislikes needlessly reckless behaviour from those around him, as he can’t bear to see even more lives lost to the war. He often doubts himself, his role as Prime, and his actions, even if they were right. At the end of the day, Optimus wants nothing more than to live a quiet life with his loved ones.

Elita-1

Allegiance: Autobot

Alt mode: F-16 Fighting Falcon fighter jet

Occupation: Autobot commander

Likes: Astronomy, meteorology, flying, Earth rain, stargazing

Dislikes: Megatron (everyone hates him but she hates him on a very personal level), confined spaces, caves, snowstorms

Before she was Elita-1, she was Ariel, and before she was Ariel, she was a miner designated AR-1. After escaping the mines when she was young, she was taken in by an old dock boss named Kup who offered her a job at the docks, where she met a young mech named Orion Pax. Elita and Optimus Prime are both co-commanders and conjunx enduras. She’s much more of a social jokester than he is, and is extremely popular amongst the troops. She’s cunning, loyal, intelligent, and a fierce warrior who always stands up for what’s right and puts others before herself, all while being someone who’s willing to lend an ear to anyone who needs to vent. She’s truly the definition of an Autobot.

Bumblebee

Allegiance: Autobot

Alt mode: 2017 Volkswagen Beetle

Occupation: Special Operations scout

Likes: Earth pop culture (especially video games and 80s music), open roads, making friends, adventure, summertime, stories about pre-war Cybertron, carwashes

Dislikes: Being teased for his height, sharp objects, confinement, failing a task or mission

Bumblebee is one of the youngest and most promising soldiers in the Resistance. Raised by Optimus and Elita, he chose to join the fight against the Decepticons once he came of age, a decision that they respect but don’t fully approve of. His oddly small stature makes him ideal for espionage-based missions, and he’s nearly mastered using his size to his advantage while in direct combat. Bee is an extremely upbeat and friendly bot, and while he may be small, he has a big spark that cares deeply for everyone around him. He often recklessly puts himself in danger to protect others, which usually gets him injured, but the injuries are worth it, in his opinion. Overall, Bumblebee is a dependable, determined, and brave Autobot, just like his caretakers.

Wheeljack

Allegiance: Autobot

Alt mode: 2015 Chevrolet Silverado

Occupation: Autobot Science Division, Chief Engineer

Likes: Science, inventing, researching, stunt driving (he doesn’t do it much anymore, though), lab work, reading scientific reports, explaining things he’s invented or fixed, explosions

Dislikes: Listening to his body when it tells him to take breaks, not knowing about a subject, distractions from his work, long fights

Wheeljack is one of Cybertron’s greatest scientific minds. He’s a brilliant, eccentric engineer and a good-natured bot who others like to be around. He can easily become engrossed in his work, and has little regard for his own personal safety, as he frequently patches himself up and regularly visits the medbay after his daily experiment blows up in his face. He often looks out for the youngsters around him, and ends up fostering a strong paternal affection towards his human ally Sadie. While he’s not on the front lines as much as he once was, he’s still quite a capable fighter and a force to be reckoned with.

Ratchet

Allegiance: Autobot

Alt mode: MXP-170 ambulance

Occupation: Chief Medical Officer

Likes: Peace and quiet, napping, organizing his equipment, Engex, bossing people around

Dislikes: People or bots who annoy him, his equipment being disorganized, comments about his age (unless he makes them), hotshot young bots (except for Bee), busy cities

One of Iacon’s best and most dedicated medical professionals, Ratchet is an elderly, cranky old medic who’s constantly trying to keep his fellow Autobots out of trouble. He’s no stranger to wartime, as he's a veteran of the Quintesson War that took place before the majority of his comrades were even protoformed. Having raised both Optimus and Wheeljack, they’re two of the only bots who know that, despite his prickly exterior, Ratchet is actually quite a softie deep down. Still, Ratchet has a nasty temper, and he often doesn’t work well with others, preferring to do things “his way”. When the situation is dire enough, however, he’ll accept help from those around him. Occasionally, he’ll be relaxed enough to lightheartedly joke around with those he’s closest with, but overall he’s a tough, no-nonsense, hard working old bot.

[emyn-arnens]

Angrod and Aegnor Headcanons

↳ for @arafinwean-week Day 3: Angrod and Aegnor

Angrod was intent on justice as a child, and as he grew older, he developed an affinity for debate.

He was given the epessë "Iron-handed" not only because of his strength of hands and his talent in sparring, but because he was known to rule with an iron fist and place justice above mercy. Aegnor tempered him, as did Edhellos.

Those who did not know them well thought that Aegnor was the angrier of the two, but his anger burned out quickly and he could be made to see reason even in the midst of his anger. Angrod was slower to rouse to anger, but fiercer and more terrible in his wrath, and his ire did not easily cool.

During their youth, it was often Aegnor who dragged Angrod away from fights with the sons of Fëanor, reminding him of the chastisement they would receive not only from their parents (Finarfin was loath to incur any new reason for discord with his brother's family), but from Finrod and Galadriel as well, who believed it was wisest to keep well away from Fëanor and his sons.

(But if Aegnor ever got into a fight with their cousins, Angrod would swiftly end it. This was when he began to be called "Iron-handed.")

Aegnor was a poet and writer in Aman, known for his verses on nature and his whimsical poetry about the lands that lay over the Sea, inspired his mother's cradle songs. It was said that he left the craft behind him after he travelled over the Ice. Andreth could rarely persuade him to share with her the verses he had written.

Angrod was one of very few who knew of Aegnor's relationship with Andreth and was in Aegnor's confidences well before Finrod ever learned of what had grown between Aegnor and Andreth.

After Aegnor left Andreth, it was said that a terrible anger began to build within him, fury against the Enemy who had long ago dealt to Men the injury of death, and he became single-minded in his purpose to deal out to Morgoth the same injury he had dealt to Men.

Aegnor grew wrathful with the complacency of the Noldor and how easily they placed their trust in the Siege. The greater part of his wrath was held for the sons of Fëanor and their disinclination to act, but he grew angry with Fingon for not heeding Fingolfin's counsel, and it was during the Siege of Angband that the friendship of their youth was at last ended.

It was said amongst the Eldar that after Aegnor's death it became common to name those inflamed with the lust of battle as "consumed with fell fire, like Aegnor of old" and to say that their eyes "gleamed with the same fell fire" that consumed Aegnor, lord of Dorthonion, at the hour of his death.

[artfulacrostic]

im back in a little kid with a big death wish moment and as always the descriptions of the turtle-ASL have me in a chokehold.

i am Not An Artist but i did take a class on making comics and this would not get out of my brain so i spent some time while sitting around waiting in the booth during tech this week to expel it from my skull. reference credit for turtle hand fingerspelling positioning to @ayspooky1 because i certainly had a brain freeze because i don't know how to draw anything let alone hands.

thank u @remedyturtles for writing turts that live rent-free in my brain, i think about your work constantly.

both (shitty marker) color and just ink bc idk which i prefer.

from little kid with a big death wish, Ch. 3, by @remedyturtles (@ remrose on AO3).

"Leo blinked rapidly and focused on the blur of red, offering Raph a half smile. He rubbed his fist on his plastron, sorry.

'You're good. Where'd you go?' Raph asked, and Leo was beginning to hate the kid-gloves way everyone talked to him all the time. He wanted to be better, he wanted to not be like this either.

And like hell he was about to tell his brothers about the ride-a-long in his head. He still didn't know if the aversion to the thought was his own. But either way, he felt it, and it was there.

The sign for 'hard' needed two hands. He was getting frustrated at his deficit in communication due to the throbbing lack of arm. He finger-spelled it instead. He wasn't entirely sure anymore why trying to verbally talk wasn't on the table. It was just... daunting.

Raph sighed, giving a soothing rub to his shell. 'We know it's hard. You're doing great.'

'You're killing it, bro.' Mikey mumbled.

'Way to remain attached to reality.' Donnie chimed in, voice utterly flat in a way that would be insulting if you didn't know him.

But Leo knew him, he knew all of them, and their support meant everything to him, especially now."