#wrote some fic and posted it

[meova101]

We Built A Picture Made For Frames

Sebchal, rated E, 7k

Charles isn’t sure why Sebastian has invited him, again. He’s also not sure why he decided to show up. But now that Sebastian's retiring, he might as well end this part of their life together properly, even if they haven't been together in months and Sebastian seems to have long moved on.

A gift for @andreagrimes for the Sebchal Secret Santa. I really hope you like this and that you’ve had amazing holidays <3

[dapper-lil-arts]

You try to do a favor for a friend, but

[ghcstao3]

street photographer ghost who has mastered taking the perfect candid photos without ever getting caught. he just has an eye for subjects, both mundane and unique in style, and he enjoys his work. it's just that simple.

soap is one of those subjects. there's something naturally captivating about him, the way he carries himself and seemingly bends the world to his will all around him, and ghost wastes no second doing what he does best—candids that frame their subject like they're the centre of the universe even when any other passerby might blink and miss those singular moments.

except—as ghost snaps a few more photos and briefly glances at the raw images, he sees that the man he'd been taking pictures of is looking directly down the barrel of the lens by the end of the set of photos, a grin on his face, hand blurred in a wave in the frozen frames ghost had captured.

when he puts the camera down, he sees the man still waving at him from across the street before he's quickly glancing both ways and jogging across to meet ghost.

"almost didn't see you," he breathes.

ghost bites back a that's the point, instead focusing on carefully tucking his camera back into its bag.

"i'm sorry," ghost eventually apologizes. "i'll delete them if—"

"the opposite, actually," the man cuts in. "i wanted to see them."

ghost tenses. the rare times he's been caught out usually don't... result in this. "really?"

"mhm." another bright grin. "i'm soap, by the way. or—john, if you're lookin' to be all formal like."

pulling his camera back out, ghost cocks an eyebrow. "soap?"

soap shakes his head. "don't worry about it." he winks. "unless we meet again."

ghost snorts. captivating had certainly been the right word to describe soap.

"why don't we see if you even like the photos first, yeah?"

[wikiangela]

several sentence sunday

tagged by @hippolotamus

sooo bucktommy won me over, i couldn't resist anymore 🙈 so here's a bit of them after their date lol just to be clear, im still 10000% about buddie but im gonna enjoy this while it lasts bc I feel like this is exactly what buck needs rn lol I just wanna write him be giddy and stupid and flustered about a boy even if that's not eddie haha (also, I didn't get the Tommy hype before but after seeing him everywhere for two days... I get it now 🥵)

___

"(...) We should do this again.” Tommy says, turning fully towards Buck, and Buck’s eyes immediately find his lips. He can’t wait to kiss him again, and this would be the time, at the end of the date, wouldn’t it?

“We should.” Buck nods, licks his lips, eyes darting up to Tommy’s eyes. He’s smiling softly, just looking at Buck. “I-” he starts, and then thinks, fuck it, and this time he makes a move, as he leans across the console to grab Tommy’s chin, like he did Buck’s in his kitchen, and bring him in for a kiss. Tommy immediately reciprocates, and Buck melts against him, and then when Tommy’s calloused hand covers his cheek, it just feels so- so different, in the best way possible. This kiss lasts longer than the first one, each of them constantly coming back for more, but it’s as gentle and tender as that one. Buck loves it, and can’t help smiling into it. He wants more. “Hey.” Buck says, finally pulling away, licks his spit-covered lips nervously. “Do you- do you maybe wanna come in for a beer?” he asks shyly, and at Tommy’s surprised expression and raised eyebrow he realizes it might sound like he’s inviting him for more than a beer, and he panics again. “I- I- I mean, just a beer. And maybe- maybe more of this.” he pecks Tommy’s lips again, not able to resist a smile. “But just a beer. I don’t think I’m- But who knows, maybe-” he stumbles over his words, because the truth is, he wants Tommy, he wants… he wants so much, he wants to experience so much for the first time – it’s just that he’s not sure if it’s not too quick for this relationship, and for him.

“Evan.” Tommy interrupts, bringing his other hand up, now cradling Buck’s face in both, thumbs moving soothingly along Buck’s cheeks. “Your pace, remember? No pressure, no rush.”

“You’re really cool, you know that?” Buck whispers.

“So I keep hearing.” Tommy chuckles, and it’s adorable. He kisses Buck again, and the butterflies in Buck’s stomach go crazy. Fuck, he doesn't remember the last time he felt this giddy and excited and just light. “I’d love to come in for a beer.”

___

no pressure tags: @elvensorceress @thebravebitch @shortsighted-owl @eddiebabygirldiaz @watchyourbuck @eowon @loserdiaz @evanbegins @ladydorian05 @wildlife4life @diazpatcher @lover-of-mine @monsterrae1 @thewolvesof1998 @neverevan @weewootruck @loveyouanyway @spagheddiediaz @rainbow-nerdss @epicbuddieficrecs @pirrusstuff @spotsandsocks @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @nmcggg @rogerzsteven @giddyupbuck @sunshinediaz @honestlydarkprincess @underwater-ninja-13 @exhuastedpigeon @911-on-abc @jesuisici33 @steadfastsaturnsrings @theotherbuckley @buddieswhvre @dangerpronebuddie @diazsdimples @daffi-990 @bidisasterbuckdiaz @fortheloveofbuddie @hoodie-buck @tizniz @your-catfish-friend

[quinn-pop]

let’s do some autistic meta knight headcanons!! over explaining my interpretation of meta knight yet again wooooo

this orb has NO idea how to talk to people!!! outside of work anyway. a lot of this is partially due to upbringing (suppressing his emotions all the time) but he does not know how to express emotions, like…at all.

this goes into a few things

1. yeah talking is hard. even after figuring out what he wants to communicate he will struggle. conversation can be so overwhelming, especially under pressure. he will need time lol

2. because of that, forming connections is hard. i really don’t think meta is much for shallow relationships, and certainly not early in the timeline. which also means he has very little experience with friendship. so a lot of the relationships he did have went kinda neglected, and issues that probably could’ve been worked on by talking became…*cough romk* escalated.

3. honestly i wouldn’t be surprised if meta convinced himself he couldn’t feel emotion (anymore) until like. katam-ish. he tried very hard lol

vulnerability is terrifying. (though this gesture here is also just comforting, like his little cape cocoon thing he does.)

unmasking—yeah im taking the mask thing very literally here—is a big deal and a very slow process for mk. i’m sure he has a lot of feelings on that lol. it served as a way to ensure no one could ever, y’know, see him.

i can’t say i think he’d ever fully ditch it—there’s always gonna be some days that are more stressful than others and if having it could help him get through it, it just makes sense. mainly when working.

it really is about vulnerability. granted, i don’t think he has the most expressive face (in my head every astral just tends to stare at things) but i doubt he has much control over it. can’t fake a smile but also can’t hide it. probably blushes easy because yeah, astrals; just look at kirby’s face.

just the idea that someone might be able to read his expression and know what he’s feeling before he’s ready for them to (or even understands it himself…) yeah he doesn’t want that

but emotional turmoil aside, i think his mask also hides a lot of his stims

remember that whole “suppressing your feelings” thing? yeah turns out that ignoring half your instincts isn’t a good idea. so in true meta knight style, he tries to stim as subtly as possible

1. he has the least control over his wings, so they will flick and twitch on their own. they’re usually a good indicator of how he’s feeling, not unlike the body language usually seen in cat ears and tails lol. flapping is also an extension of this of course, though he probably suppresses it more.

2. this also effects when he takes his wings out. pretty much every time he’s excited or nervous it just happens. kinda makes me wonder if his wing cape ordeal might also go into the suppression thing… (i’d say yes, but using a cape is also very comforting so it’s not necessarily a bad thing)

3. going back to the mask thing; he stims a lot underneath it. think like biting or pursing your lips. he bites his tongue and clicks his mouth. that sort of thing. his mask also makes it harder to notice that he is constantly sighing, humming, grumbling…all that

one nice thing about the mask though is that it helps a little bit with lights!!! woo

(look at him and his magically floating glasses)

sensory stuff—i think he’s mostly bothered by light and sound. maybe a bit of texture. he’s pretty sensory avoidant and perfectly happy standing off to the side not touching anything.

the one exception to this is physical affection, which is, despite all of this, most of how he shows affection. it’s a lot easier to hug someone than to try to explain your feelings for them, after all.

i think he would like pressure though. so that’s probably part of it. and i’m pretty sure there’s some connection in here to fighting (dang, is that the only way he knows how to get his energy out?)

anyway, pretty much all of this is in contrast to kirby, who i would gladly nominate as the champion of Doing Whatever He Wants. he might pick up a few bad habits, but he will never mask the way meta knight does. he might not understand how he feels, but he’s in tune enough to express it…usually.

this is a very good thing for meta because it helps him to do the same thing. kirby’s so energetic, it’s hard to not want to stim with him. it reminds meta to be kinder to himself and explore his own emotions. he can also help kirby understand themselves, so this connection is very important.

yeah, at the end of the day, everything kinda just boils down to kirby and mk as parallels

this is the conclusion i promise

to me, meta’s arc is about growing stronger by growing kinder, and this is mostly by learning to be kind to himself. letting himself be a person again, loving and understanding other people, and eventually, letting go of all the expectations placed on him and doing the things he’s always wanted to do…

autism headcanons are fun for me because it’s cathartic to write, but at the same time, it just makes sense in this sort of narrative. meta is, to me, inseparable from these things. and so is kirby! that’s a dynamic that’s a lot of fun to play with, and it’s at the heart of my kirby interpretation.

if you actually read all this WOW thank you

[tizzymcwizzy]

HEY YOU!! I HAVEN'T POSTED FIC IN A WHILE BUT I JUST REMEMBERED I HAD THIS FINISHED ONE SHOT FROM A YEAR AGO I FORGOT ABOUT

here's the link to read it on ao3

it's a post rocketear 5.8k one shot with an original character akuma that's just a vessel for me to do some Adrien character exploration

also some art for it from a year ago

[oracleact]

« nothing on me »

bayverse raph x reader / fluff + angst

notes: 1.8k words, first person pov, established relationship, gender neutral reader (no pronouns used,) details of injuries and tending to said injuries.

a knock on the window at 3am? that only means one thing: the turtles are here. smiling, I rub the remnants of sleep from my eyes and hop out of bed to open up the curtain. only one turtle faces me at the window though - raphael.

I open the window and help his wide frame step down from the ledge, but my previous smile fades fast when raph groans in pain as he steps onto the floor.

“raph, what’s wrong? where are the rest of the boys? what happened?” I speak as fast as possible to try and get to his answer, worry eating away at me with each second that passes.

my raph is the mass strength and rough hand amongst the turtles. he can handle a lot of damage since he always manages to deal out more than what is done onto him. seeing him bent over, actually using my arm for support and not simply holding me because he wants to, groaning in genuine pain rather than letting out his usual gruff noises of acknowledgment - that scares me. it terrifies me when I don’t know what has happened.

“I told them to check on dad,” he begins breathlessly, “I needed you. it’s really bad this time.”

my eyes widen and I hurry him to the side of my bed, the mattress creaking under his weight. I grasp his face in my hands to check him over, turning his head every which way, but see nothing apart from a few new scratches on his skin.

“what do you mean ‘really bad,’ raph? you’re scaring me.”

“my—“ he lifts his arm and tries to reach for the back of his shell, failing miserably and almost howling out in pain, “my shell, sweetheart. I haven’t seen it yet but I heard it crack and this pain is too much for it to just be taped up.”

I scuttle around his large form and am immediately hit with the sight of a deep crack in the middle of his shell. he was right to come straight to me with this one. he should always come to me with injuries but is too stubborn most of the time and rides out the pain: ‘it may look bad to you but it’s nothing on me.’

when the boys started to properly use their skills outside of the lair, with the risk of larger injuries increasing, I began to research and teach myself how to handle ones specific to these mutants. thanks to many in depth articles about turtle care, I have safely cleaned and covered up small cracks before. the only difference between the boys and ‘normal’ turtles in regards to care like this is their size - it takes longer and requires more focus to clean cracks, ensuring that they can heal appropriately over time. although tonight’s damage will take double that, and maybe more.

“oh raph, oh my…how? wait, don’t answer that. I’m doing my first aid stuff then we can talk about it, okay?” he nods with a sad smile and all I can do is reach out and cup his cheek, returning the expression he gave me. he moves my hand to his lips for a quick kiss before I start scurrying off to grab what I need.

let’s see - chlorohexidine solution, q-tips, cotton pads, adhesive patches and a towel. is that all I need? I have no idea right now; I’m so scared to touch him that I feel like stalling for as long as I can.

I walk slowly back to where he sits on the edge of my bed, his head resting in one hand as the other rubs at his tired eyes. I lay down all that I grabbed from the bathroom before taking a deep breath and sitting down behind him. the room is silent for a couple of minutes after that, my heart beating loudly in my ears. I can’t break my anxious stare away from the crack in his beautiful carapace.

“hey…” raph speaks ever so softly to get my attention.

“yeah— sorry. I’m sorry,” I feel tears begin to form in my eyes. I hate seeing him hurt like this. “I’m going to fix you up. I promise I’ll fix this. I’ll touch around your shell, away from the crack, and you tell me how it feels. let me know how much the pain has spread.”

he gestures ‘yes’ to me but with a frowned brow, “don’t cry, love. everything is okay. I’m raphael, remember? this is nothing on me!”

but I can see it - I can see the pain written on his face, the way his eyes look misty. I don’t want to push him to talk nor do I want to directly acknowledge the pain I can see; I don’t want to break his protective wall at a time like this. it wouldn’t be fair to do so. I wipe my tears and get straight to work instead.

my small hand reaches out for him, gently patting around the edges of his shell then smoothing over the surface, “that’s not bad at all. it just feels tingly, like the nice kind of tingly you give me.” I giggle at him. it’s a relief that the shell hasn’t shattered or anything and he can feel my hand like always.

I’ve spent so many nights tracing over the faint patterns of his plastron and committing the texture to memory. it helps calm him after a stressful training day or when he can’t sleep. it secretly calms me too because it’s just us in those moments, the rest of the world fading away and leaving only raph and I. there’s no need to jump away from my hold to save new york when my touch melts away the city completely. nothing can break us out of that warm paradise as long as we are together.

despite the touch test going well, the cleaning of his wounds will definitely be painful since the crack is open and noticeable. I pour some of the solution onto a q-tip and tell raph to start breathing slowly and deeply. I help him set a pace for it before I begin to clean.

he hisses in pain when the piece of cotton comes in contact with the wound and my tears start to flow again, “I know baby, but this part is important,” I sniffle and reach my free hand for his, “use me to balance yourself.”

“I’ll break your little hand,” there is a fracture in his voice as he speaks but he still manages to let out a chuckle with his words.

“breathe and squeeze, raph, don’t worry about me.”

and so he did - each time I dipped the cotton into the crack he inhaled and exhaled quickly whilst grasping my hand in his. I rubbed my thumb over his rough skin in an attempt to ground us both over and over again.

“one last clean and then I’ll patch it up and be done for tonight.” he lets out a loud sigh at that, obviously glad that the stinging will be over soon. I hear him lowly whimper but force a cough after in an attempt to hide the noise. once again I don’t press him on it, I just kiss the back of his hand to let him know it’s alright.

the last step is to cut adhesive patches to fit the crack, making sure to leave small gaps at the ends to allow air to flow through. this process isn’t all that different from putting a bandaid on a human arm, and thank goodness for that. I want to do everything I can to help raph, to ease his pain, so this being a somewhat ‘easy’ task to complete means luck is on my side right now.

with the last piece secure I get up from the bed to face him again, giving him a small smile to let him know it’s done. I slip myself between his legs and reach out to untie his bandana. his eyes close as he presses his head onto my chest to give me access to the tie at the back.

sliding the cloth from his face, I set it on the bed and wipe underneath his eyes; he looks so worn out. my fingers move down to draw along the scars from previous battles and to check over any new cuts, the pad of my thumb eventually landing on the most prominent scar across his upper lip. my raph, my hero, our hero…with the scars to prove it all.

“give it a week and see how the shell starts to heal. if we need to do more then I’m ready for that. I’ve done my research, you’re looking at a certified mutant turtle nurse,” I wink at him as he laughs and nuzzles further into my hold.

he looks up at me with those gorgeous eyes, the light of the moon catching in them. he may be hurt but he’s here with me and healing in my arms, and I’ll hold this man forever to show him how much he means to me. he’s looking at me in the same way - in awe of what’s in front of him - both of us dumbly grinning at each other. although, he does break eye contact when a yawn suddenly comes bursting out.

“do you want to talk about what happened, or do you want to catch some z’s first?”

“hmm…as much as I want to tell you about how much of a badass I am, I really want to crash.”

he moves to lay on his back before I catch his shoulders with high pitched squeak, “shell!” I whisper-yell at him. his lips form an ‘o’ and I shake my head. only raph could forget about his injuries that quickly.

I slip into the bed first and hold out my arms, beckoning him to follow and to lay on his stomach. he does so almost instantly, getting comfy against me and wrapping his arms around my waist.

“thank you for everything. I trust you with my life, you know.”

“and I trust you with mine, big red.”

I’m seemingly stuck staring down at him, just in stupid awe once more. watching how his eyes are effortlessly closed, evident that he is exhausted, with a faint smile playing on his lips as he shifts around to find the best snoozing position. his shell is now what catches the attention of the moon and I feel satisfied with my work on the crack. I’m still worried but the patch looks good and secure from afar so I’ll take it for it now.

I’m so happy that this brave and unstoppable mutant turtle trusts me with his open wounds, with his physical and emotional scars, with his love and being. this life of ours is crazy in so many ways but I wouldn’t ask for anything to change. well, less wounds here and there would be nice but that might be asking for too much.

[daddyplasmius]

Danny Fenton isn’t dead. And Maddie is grateful for that, as his mother. But, as a scientist, she knows, realistically, he should be dead. Yet here he is, walking around with enough ectoplasmic contamination in his system to kill a grown man ten times, acting like nothing is wrong. What the honest fuck.

Maddie’s first theory is ectocontamination. A severe case. The problem with this theory is that there’s no proof of contamination besides the absurd amount of ectoplasm in Danny’s system. No adverse health effects as far as they can tell. Which is oddーwhen she compares it to her other theories.

Her second theoryーJack’s firstーis possibly low level possession. But, again, Danny shows no signs or symptoms besides his ectoplasmic levels. He can even pass through the Fenton Ghost Shield.

Third? Maybe he isn’t affected as much by ectoplasm and so it just sticks to him without any adverse effects. She did handle samples while pregnant, which wasn’t very good. But, again, the problem here is that the same could be said of Jazz, and she has a perfectly normal level of ectocontamination. And when she had gotten severely contaminated, Jazz fell illーalong with dozens of other students from Casper High.

It is quite literally just Danny.

Danny Fenton is an enigma. Maddie finds herself stuck in this thought loop often. Her son doesn’t even seem to notice the absolutely massive amount of ectoenergy he gives off. Normally, that much would be coming from the deceased victim of contamination or a ghost, not a healthy, living teenager.

And Danny is healthy. Nothing is wrong with him besides that. Which is weird. Well, it’s good that he isn’t dying, but… scientifically impossible. Never before witnessed. An anomaly in the field of paranormal science. A human giving off so much ectoplasmic energy a day, it could fuel a blob ghost, without recharging, for ten years.

Another mystery. How did Danny discover blob ghosts before she or Jack did? Why didn’t he tell them before one wandered out of his room? And why on Earth would he give them such a ridiculous, albeit accurate, name?

Maddie feels like her head is going to explode. She wishes she could justーask. But her son thoroughly avoids any mention of ghosts. Add it to the list. Because that’s what this is becoming. Just a list of odd things about her son that she can’t solve. Her son that should be dead, but against all odds isn’t.

[pizzaqueen]

464 words of pre-slash pining fluff for day one of @steddie-week / rated G or T

It’s not as tight a fit in the listening booth as Eddie hoped it would be, but it does get him closer to Steve than he’s been all day. (Well, except for when he draped himself all over Steve at their table in the food court, or when they were pressed close in the photo booth, Eddie goading Steve into making goofy faces, or when their knees were resting together at the movies earlier.)

But they’re in their own bubble here. The rest of the world completely shut out. Just the two of them, one set of headphones, and a song shared between them.

Eddie has the album at home, and he wouldn’t be surprised if Steve knows that, but he didn’t resist when Eddie dragged him in here with one hand curled around Steve’s wrist, the other clutching the album they’re listening to now.

The song is so familiar and it fades to the background as Eddie watches Steve sidelong; the drums keep time with the beat of his heart, the howling guitar could be the singing in his blood. He catches Steve looking at him, once, twice, three times, his pulse skipping whenever their gazes lock.

This is almost everything Eddie wants. Listening to music with Steve, forgetting about the world beyond the song and the space between them. It would be perfect if he was sure that Steve’s heart is beating as hard as his, that his skin tingles at the nearness of Eddie, the way Eddie’s skin is tingling, now, being so close to Steve. The way his stomach swoops, and his chest feels full to bursting, how he’s every single fucking hopelessly in love cliche whenever they’re together, and even more when they’re not.

But he doesn’t know. He has no fucking clue. Sometimes, maybe, he thinks—hopes—but how can he be sure? He’s out of his depths here. It drives him crazy but, fuck, in moments like this he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Steve shifts, their hips bumping together, the brush of his arm against Eddie’s sending electricity through him. It draws Steve closer and he doesn’t move away, so they listen to the rest of the song pressed close, like the booth is half the size.

“So”—Eddie pulls his side of the headphones away from his ear when the song ends—“what did you think?” He bites his lip, kicks Steve’s foot.

“I think I liked it.” Steve’s gaze flicks outside the booth, then fixes back on Eddie. His eyes twinkle, warm and dark, and he turns so he’s facing Eddie fully. He licks his lips and leans in, saying, “But maybe we could listen to it again?”

“Yeah,” Eddie says, a smile forming, “maybe we could,” and he starts the song over.

[supernovasilence]

Imagine the Pevensies, returning to Narnia in Prince Caspian, to find everyone they knew and loved is dead. Imagine them rescuing Trumpkin, meeting Caspian, dealing with the Telmarines--being so busy, they have no time to sit and mourn properly. They can only grieve while they walk through silent forests and make their way down strange riverbeds, can only snatch a few minutes before they fall asleep in between days of travel and days of battle to try to make their peace with all they have lost.

Imagine the four of them at that long celebration after the fight has been won. Laughing and feasting along with everyone else, feeling so much joy, and yet they cannot help looking around at it all. Surrounded by dwarfs and fauns, by living trees and talking beasts and dancing waters, by all their dear new friends, they cannot help remembering other celebrations. Other friends. It is all very like it was, once.

And then imagine figures making their way through the crowd to them. One or two at first, but more and more as the night goes on. Tall figures with flowing green hair, brown skin textured with bark, eyes like knotholes.

Some were only saplings, last time. Some bear scars from lightning strikes and beetle attacks. Many have fallen to storm or age, but still, some are there. Still, time has not passed for them as it has for the rest of Narnia. Wading through the earth like water, they do not come to meet the Pevensies, do not come to gape at the kings and queens of legend. They come to greet their old friends.

Trees live a long time, you see.

[meova101]

Love Like Mine (Met With Mixed Reviews)

Sebchal, rated E, chapter 1

“Have you heard that Seb Vettel is a slut?”

Happy Sebchalday, have some gridslut!au 🙏😘

[galvanizedfriend]

HIII if you don’t mind sharing, what are your fav klaroline fics? New and old, I’m in need of new reads 🙏

I'm probably not the best person to be doing new fic recs. 🥲 I have sadly not been reading that much Klaroline myself these days. When I do read fic, it's for other stuff. So my recs are either old or new-ish. 😂 But hopefully you can find something to your liking that haven't read yet here.

Buckle up because I took my sweet time with this list, nonnie.

. Inertia Overcome by @avari20

The first KC fanfic I remember reading the reason why I finally got pulled into the fandom after years of watching TVD as a reasonable spectator (so rly, if you guys can't stand to see me around anymore after all this time, it's this fic's fault for being so good). Honestly one of this fandom's statement works. If you haven't read it yet, please do.

. Timeless by @marvelouskatie

Same as the above. One of the most iconic KC fics of all time imho. The canon AU to end all canon AU. When I first decided to come out of the shadows and create a tumblr and actually start interacting with folks, this was the first fic that was recced to me. I was very grateful then, and now I'm here to pass this knowledge on.

. Picturesque by @supernutellastuff

Honestly of the sweetest, most heartwarming fics I've ever read! It's a human AU that's a How I Met Your Mother sort of adaptation, and honestly the first time I've ever enjoyed HIMYM. I love a good ensemble fic and this is just it! Supernutella is so talented.

. Quiet Light by @definedareasofuncertainty

This fic was WRITTEN FOR ME because of how much I pestered my friend Luiza about Carolijah and this will forever feel like a trophy to my heart. 🥰 It made me feel ALL THE FEELINGS. I hated Caroline, I loved Caroline, I loved my baby Elijah, I hated him, I also hated Klaus (he's such a fucking asshole omfg), but then the end was just DHAGHDDASAS!! You think you're in for a certain kind of story and it turns out to be so much more. It is, deep down, about the brothers, how selfish they are, how they can hurt each other more than anyone, but how they love one another above anything else, even when they want to kill each other (and fall in love with their brother's girl!!!). It's beautiful, like everything Luiza writes, and it genuinely made me cry.

. long limbs and frozen swim by @definedareasofuncertainty

I saw a discussion the other day about how whoever wrote this fic JUST GOT IT, and I have to say I completely agree with the person who made that comment. Luiza just NAILS Caroline's grief and loneliness after her mother's death, how isolating and gut-wrenching it is. Klaus being the person who finds her, who knows exactly what to say without her ever having to spell it out, the one who can truly see her, is so honest too. This fic is sensitive and absolutely beautiful. Luiza's writing is perfection and this is for sure one of my all-time favorites.

. Whisper to me, Help me remember by @lalainajanes

This story reimagines the plot with the "villains" of TO S3 in a way that proves my point that the premise of that season was good, but execution was absolute crap. All of the potential the De Martels had to be incredible antagonists was completely destroyed at the hands of the show writers - but explored to perfection by Laine's much more capable hands. Klaus is freed after 10 years in captivity to find that Caroline had been working with Tristan this whole time in order to take him down - except something is not quite right about that. While you're at it, please read all of Laine's fics! It's a delight.

. Into the Woods by @jinxedwood

I wept when I read this because it's the post-TO canon fic I didn't even know I needed. Caroline's search for a way to stop her twins' merger ends up leading her to someone who's been watching over her on the Other Side. 😭 I thought I'd always rather live in denial when it came to how TO ended, but this fic made my heart so full! Also, jinxedwood's use of fae mythology here was incredible.

. All I Need by @euvixen

This story is HOT. It taught me things about the werewolf AU universe I was not prepared to learn, but I am a much happier person after reading it. It's a canon mates AU that will leave you 🥵🥵🥵🥵 I speak as though the story was merely about the smut, but it's actually much more than that. A TVD S3 reimagine of sorts that is incredibly satisfying. That's my favorite season of TVD, but this is still even better.

. the birth and death of the day by @little-miss-sunny-daisy

Anyone who's known me for a some time knows how this fic was my entire personality for a while there. I'm obsessed with Kelly's writing, and I have this fic on a freaking pedestal. I first started reading it when it was on a six years hiatus, and I was *so* into it I didn't even bother me that it might never get updated because it was so good I was just happy I'd found it. But then my silly comments inspired Kelly to come back to it, finish it, and it has honestly been my greatest accomplishment as a part of this fandom because this is a masterpiece. It's a TVD/Supernatural crossover where Caroline is a step-sister to the Superbros. It's truly, truly epic, with beautiful writing. This could genuinely be a show. It's amazing, just read it.

. this is a harvest by @highgaarden

This, right here, is the perfect Klaroline-within-canon story. This is the story that put my revolt to rest and gave my spirit some much deserved peace where those two are concerned. This is exactly what canon should've been like. I'm not even joking, this is IT. If you'd asked me what I thought the perfect Klaroline development should be like I probably would've said something very vague because I couldn’t explain it, I’m not that great or creative a writer, but now I can just show you this story and let you bask in the amazingness of a fantastic read that will not only keep you thoroughly entertained, but will also be the answer to all the questions you didn't even know you had.

. Paradise Lost by Borzoi

When i grow up, I want to learn how to write like Borzoi. All of their fics are incredible novella-like reads. It's addictive. And this is probably my favorite (it varies though, sometimes I'm in a Parisian Deal era). What happens after Klaus and Caroline sleep together in 5x11, and how they eventually find their way back to each other. It's just one of those stories that you can't stop reading after you start. It's so rich, so deep, so perfectly IC. One of those fics to end all fics.

. The Stubborn Grace of Being Loved Regardless by @helpless-in-sleep One of the modern day classics, if you will. This fic is such a stunning, vivid and delicate picture of Caroline's mind as she was dealing with the consequences of the abuse she suffered at the hands of Damon. She's still human, but she's probably more IC than we've seen her ever on the show when it comes to this. The bond she forms with Klaus is truly incredible too, and speaks a lot of how the two of them really do have a lot in common (even with Caroline still as a human), but it's really the Caroline study part of the story that touches me. The writing is absolutely beautiful as well.

. it takes a while to settle down by theviolinist

This story is a punch to your stomach, but it is PERFECTION in 8k words. It's hot, it's bittersweet, it's SO in character and, in my head, I kinda like to pretend that this is what happened before Caroline married Stefan. lol

. Wanderlust by @bellemorte180 Anybody who was a part of fandom around the time this story was being published can tell you how much of an EVENT it was. There were discussion groups about the mystery. It was so entertaining. Erica's attention to detail and how she wove the little clues throughout the chapters made this a genuine thriller. I particularly some of the side-characters here. It's honestly another fandom staple I think everyone should read.

--

In terms of newer fics that I can rec you, I have two that are on my TBR. One of them is a WIP that I've been slowly going through, and the other one I know was recently finished.

. make them bow by @stars-and-darkness

This was recced to me by two friends recently and I started reading it a while back and thought it was incredible! I have sadly been awful with keeping up with stuff, but just based on the raving reviews and the five chapters I read, I fully believe it to be just as awesome as it seems to be. The writing was so good, and I was just in love with Klaus' voice in this story. It was so reminescent of early-days TVD Klaus, which is by far my favorite Klaus of all. Sexy and dangerous and so smooth. I loved it! Need to get back to it.

. Wolf Club by @Radioactive79

Listen, if you like kid fics, this is absolutely for you. The whole story is narrated by an eight-year-old OC, the daughter of Ray Sutton, the first werewolf Klaus kills when he's trying to start his mass-production of hybrids. She's a little wolf herself, and a while little thing who was subjected to her fair share of child trauma. Klaus has no idea what to do with her, but ends up taking her with him as continues on his journey, and ends up forging a bond with the little girl. I cannot tell you how delicious this story is. It has Klaroline, yes, but for me the little girl is the absolute star of the company. I usually hate OCs, especially children, in fics, but this one is AMAZING. Seriously. The way this story is written is glorious. I can't recommend it enough.

[delta-piscium]

@steddie-week day 1: Hunger | 1.1k words cw: light angst in that Steve is a little sad/dealing with some mental stuff but like hurt/comfort (not EDs which mental stuff combined with the prompt word might make it seem like, hunger is used as a metaphor)

Sometimes Steve doesn’t talk to anyone for days. He just shuts himself in his room and hides, barely leaves his bed. Pretends he doesn’t exist, or that time has stopped and he’s the only thing that exists.

Sometimes, he’ll go back too soon, feel bad for the ignored calls and drag himself out of bed to see the people who matter most to him. But it won’t feel warm and soft those times. He’ll be too raw and It’ll feel like they’re grabbing his insides and eating them. Pulling his heart and brain out of his body and devouring them without letting him eat theirs in return. 

Usually, he’s okay with that. He knows his place, he knows that’s what he’s for. For other people to get fed. And he’s happy to feed, to do that for them. 

He loves them, of course he’s gonna give himself over. It’s just that sometimes they take too much. They don’t know they do he thinks, they don’t know they’re eating him alive. That he’s presenting himself on a silver platter and letting them take take take, and that sometimes they take too much.

That’s why he disappears, so he can grow back. So he can give more. Because if he stops giving he's afraid they’ll get tired. He won’t be useful, he can’t give when he’s like that. He starts craving, he starts wanting. He feels starved and wants to take and feed too, and that’s not part of the deal. He’s not supposed to eat, he’s supposed to be eaten. So when he turns hungry and ravenous he hides, he isolates. 

Robin is the only one who truly gets this about him, who doesn’t take and demand. She gently accepts the things he gives and never without giving too, forcing him to stay whole. It’s overwhelming and sometimes he has to hide from that too, he doesn’t know how to deal with the force of it. He’s so used to the constant hunger it’s a shock when it’s gone but he’s gotten better. And anyway, he and Robin are part of one whole so whatever is given or taken between them is never really gone. It stays with both of them.

Robin is the only one, or she was the only one he should say. Because now there’s Eddie. Eddie who gives and gives and gives, almost as much as he does. But who doesn’t seem to dwindle and dim like Steve does. Who doesn’t seem to starve or hunger. Eddie who notices when Steve does, when he stumbles and gets greedy. Who holds him up and makes him whole with a look, a touch, a word. 

Eddie who breaks in through his window when he shuts himself in his big empty house and lays with him in his bed, softly telling Steve stories and running his fingers through his hair. 

It’s wonderful.

It's the worst. 

“I’m afraid you’re gonna end up as empty as me,” Steve tells him, whispers it into the dark. “That you’re here now and you’re giving and I’m taking and you’re gonna be the one left with nothing.” 

Eddie doesn’t respond immediately but hums in acknowledgment, lets him know he heard and is thinking. 

“This is good for me too,” he says eventually, “being with you and resting. Getting to be here for you when you never used to let anyone but Robin be. It’s good for me too.” 

“It can be good and still drain you.” Says Steve, knows it to be true. He doesn’t resent giving the way he does, he loves it, it’s good. It drains him. 

“Yeah,” Eddie agrees, “this doesn’t drain me, you’re comforting me too. It’s balanced.” 

Balanced. That’s what Robin tells him too. That’s what Nancy sometimes asked him for when they dated and he couldn’t let her see the cracks. That’s what he wonders about with his other friends. 

He doesn’t usually know how to do that. He doesn’t know where the lines are. He doesn’t understand how Eddie knows. 

“You let me give, and I let you give, so it’s balanced. We don’t take from each other, we gift and we receive. It’s balanced. You have to let other people give sometimes too, Steve.” 

It hits something deep in him, the last words. He knows this, he doesn’t want to know it. 

“I’m afraid they won’t. if I open myself up to it. If I ask, I’m afraid they won’t.” He says it so quietly it’s almost inaudible but Eddie hears. 

His hands still in Steve’s hair for a moment before moving again, gently scratching his scalp. 

“I know baby. But that’s not fair, they want to give too. If they knew how much they took without giving back they’d be heartbroken. It’s not fair to you or them.” 

Steve lets Eddies words wash over him, he knows he’s right. They’d be nauseous with it. His sweet wonderful friends and family would be crushed.

“Sometimes it will happen, maybe,” Eddie continues when Steve doesn’t respond beyond a sharp breath in. “Sometimes people won’t know how to give after only getting but you gotta let them try. Sometimes they’ll learn and adjust, sometimes they won’t and you’ll have to deal with that. But you can’t starve yourself like this because you won’t let them try.” 

"What if I take too much?"

"Then they talk to you, like you should talk to them."

“When did you get so wise,” Steve snorts, his voice is tight but he makes the effort, tries to lighten the mood. Deflects, like he always does. 

Eddie lets him, a little, knows Steve has to. But he’s still serious when he answers.

“Wayne is like a never-ending well of insight and digging around in everything, never lets me get away with shit.” 

The opposite of Steve’s parents who were the first to take from him and never give, never look into his eyes and tell him to eat. 

“He’s a good guy,” Steve tells Eddie instead of weighing him down more than he already has. Instead of acknowledging and relieving the hunger pang that strikes him at the thought. Even now, here, he doesn’t know how. 

“Yeah,” Eddie agrees. “I’m here to relay his wisdom, like playing telephone with whatever stuff he teaches me. The things your parents took away from you.”

Eddie still knows, of course, he does. He always knows.

“And what do you get?” Steve has to ask.

“I get you. I get everything.”

Steve smiles, turns around to kiss Eddie. He doesn’t feel empty when Eddie kisses him back, hungry. When he takes and devours. 

[000marie198]

Over the years, Nine had gotten used to the ambience of his underground lab. A calm silence on the best of days, ringing one on the worst but it was his nonetheless. His lab, his safe haven away from the tyrant ruled city above. Away from the monsters who'd brought him nothing but pain and misery.

Underground, it was safe.

The labyrinth of tunnels he knew like the back of his hand, skulking through them as sneakily as a spider in its own web. No citizens knew but the underground system was Nine's territory.

Still, an additional reassurance of security wouldn't hurt. Hence, the password-protected metal door so nobody can catch him off guard in his own home in case they ever stumbled across the lab. He had chosen the perfect spot for his lab, far away from any maintenance tunnels or security rooms, out of sight of any cameras and sentries, away from the patrol routes of the Resistance spies.

The calm isolation helped him work. He had gotten used to the mixture of silence and noise. The humming of lights and machinery, buzz of electricity running through concrete and metal walls, the rumbling vibrations of the train as it passed outside every half hour. It was routine, it was a semblance of a home.

His life was far from great, he didn't even know what a good life is supposed to be except for being left to his devices without getting beaten up. It was a far cry from the years of his childhood - he sometimes forgot he was a child still - when he would be jumped by one or another bully just for having an abnormality. The seven metal appendages he built to fight back covered his abnormality in an illusion of a single tail. Rarely ever he got disturbed about it afterwards, managing to blend in with the crowd whenever he had to venture out and then back in, ignored without a second thought. He preferred it over being the center of some horrid attention.

He preferred his hidden away lab in the bowels of the city over being someone's neighbor in the skyscrapers above. It was too dull and depressing, too noisy. He couldn't work in that environment, with the monotone buzz of sentries and Egg Forcers, the smog that made the air thick and hard to breathe in, the boom of speakers on those darn balloons saying "You're Welcome". Nine would scoff. Welcome, yeah right.

No way he would ever live up there. He wouldn't even be given enough peace to sketch a blueprint, let alone build something. He liked the combination of silence and routinely noise in his isolated lab thank you very much. The muffled screech of the vehicle arriving followed by the deep rumble in the walls before silence fell once more, back to the hum and buzz of his treasured creations and dim fluorescents.

No matter how repetitive, Nine liked the ambience of that place. It helped him think, kept him calm, helped him create to his heart's content. He would sometimes get so lost in his work that day and night blended into one -not that it made much of a difference either way - and he would lose track of the hours.

It was one of those days when someone swivelled him to face towards the person and away from his work desk. That moment, all of Nine's fears and fight or flight instincts had kicked into overdrive.

His home was discovered.

He tried to fight back, scare him away, the persistent and annoying intruder.

Nine believed himself a spider facing a fly that wandered into his web. He didn't expect to get stuck on one of his own threads.

Terror ran through him as the train almost crushed him, and then he was saved.

By the same stranger who had managed to find his place, managed to unlock his door without a single alarm going off in case someone entered an incorrect password.

That day, Nine learned about joy and companionship, felt safe around someone for the first time in his life, learned that there's a lot more to a good life than he could've ever known.

That day, Nine's life had taken a sudden unexpected swerve into the unknown.

The unknown led him to a place even better than the one he had lived in the past handful of years. Silent, isolated, empty, just what his heart had wished. A dream home he never knew he wanted.

The Grim.

What started out with hope and happiness, shoved him through pain and determination and betrayal and anger and heartache. His beacon of hope, his reason to feel joy for the first time in his life felt tainted. It hurt him and yet he couldn't bring himself to rebuild the walls that were taken down, couldn't bring himself to destroy the half-built bridge no matter how much his heart urged him to.

He has seen on the other side, a part of him didn't want to lose the pathway to the other side.

What he didn't look at was the flames of his rage burning all the other places hidden beyond the rest of his walls. His urge to snatch what he needed to fix his broken home and bring colors to it would destroy what lay beyond the bridge. The reason behind his hope and joy and anger and pain.

He would have to destroy that reason to bring back what everyone lost.

And then, Sonic was gone.

And Nine was alone, as was promised to him.

It was what he wanted, wasn't it? What he always wished for. His lab was here, brighter than it was back then, with a much cooler change in aesthetic. A touch of color, a touch of openness, a mark of Sonic still left in the existence of palm trees and a hammock.

He would've loved it if he were here.

The ambience of his lab in the Grim was different than New Yoke. There was the silence he had wanted, the isolation.

But he couldn't bring himself to build things anymore. The silence was too deafening, the echoes of his tool too loud. The lights didn't hum, the buzz of machinery carrying too many painful flashbacks.

He couldn't stop hearing the screams in his memory every time he heard the buzz. Grim was somehow more silent and still louder than New Yoke.

It felt less and less like something that should've been a home and more like a prison.

Why did it feel so much worse even though the situation was much better than New Yoke could ever hope to be, where he had to be constantly alert of everything around him anytime he headed out? Where the air was thick and unbreathable any time he headed outside his lab?

This place had colors but was too lifeless, calm and peaceful but dripping in sorrow.

Was it because his conception of a good life had changed? New Yoke's lab used to feel like an ideal home but that was then. Now thinking back on it, it was so much worse than what he had known.

Sound simulations did nothing to bring him back in the mood. He couldn't create anymore.

He liked the ambience here so much more but...

It was empty. Grim... Heh

The darkness of sleep consumed him and he welcomed it over his pained thoughts.

When he came to, he felt weak, too tired to move. His mind was empty and he felt whole and safe. Home... Nine felt he was seeing things, that he was in a dream when he saw the ones he thought he'd never see again.

Murmured conversations he felt too delirious too remember the words of but knew he had had. He no longer heard the eery silence, nor the loud buzz, just soothing murmur of familiar voices, familiar presence.

That moment, Nine hadn't realized his life would be taking another turn.

That day, Nine finally cried. And things spiraled and turned around for the better. Grim no longer held him contained, he was being taken to his real home, the one he never knew he deserved, the one he never realized he had needed.

Time passed, before he found himself in a lab, same bunk bed and desk and computer screen that he always had but not shrouded in shades of grey nor violet.

The machinery hummed and beeped, the air wasn't thick nor still and gently swooshed around like playful wisps. The light was a combination of white fluorescent and yellow gold, the natural rays holding warmth that tickled his fur. A soothing combination of peaceful silence and gentle noise, distant chirp of flickies, taps and pitter-patter of footsteps sounding through the walls, familiar voices muffled and clear; an ambience he could get used to.

Nine's fingers twitched towards the desk and after so long, he finally built

[steddie-island]

Don't go where I can't follow

Rating: E | WC: 992 | CW: Choking, angst with a happy ending, under-negotiated kink, some blood/gore (this takes place after Watergate so Steve is hurt) Written for Kinktober last year, for the prompt 'choking'. See full list of tags on ao3.

They were alive. 

They almost weren’t, but then they were, and Steve needed… something. “Fuck.”  

It was easier than it should have been to get away from the others. It was easy to lie and say they needed to look at the extent of their wounds, that they could take care of each other, and yeah, Nancy and Robin should go check the kids. 

“Fuck, Steve. Are you sure?”Eddie had never done this. He’d never done anything beyond an awkward handjob with someone who didn’t have enough money for their weed. This wasn’t that. This was Steve Harrington, King of Hawkins High, looking desperate and wrecked as Eddie worked a hand over their cocks. Steve’s eyes were wide and wet. There was dried blood on his face, his neck, blood seeped through his bandages and into Eddie's vest. He fucking hurt, ached everywhere, but they could worry about that later. 

A pink tongue darted out to wet dry lips and then Steve was nodding. They both smelled like lake water and mud and sulfur and none of that mattered because goddammit they were alive.

“Please.”

Even being alone the way they were, it was better, safer, to whisper. Moans were hidden with teeth in swollen lips and behind hands that still had mud in the lines of their knuckles. Steve wanted– needed– more than that, though. 

He could still feel the tail of the goddamn demobat, digging in, cutting him, pressing rough against his throat. The skin was still angry and red and raw but still he pulled Eddie’s hand up to cover the red line. In another life they could talk safewords and technique and Steve would worry more about kissing the terror out of Eddie’s eyes. He couldn’t quite do it when he knew Eddie’s terror was just being reflected back at him. "Do it. Please.”

So Eddie did. He slotted their legs together more firmly to help hold Steve’s weight against the rock, then his thumb and fingers were squeezing. It was gentle at first, too fucking gentle. Steve covered Eddie’s fingers and squeezed tighter. The cut against his throat ached and stung where Eddie touched it but that just added to the sensation. “Harder. Please– ” Eddie obliged again, tightened both the hand around their dicks and the fingers around Steve’s throat. He’d read about this at least, knew the basics before Steve had asked for this. Still, seeing Steve’s eyes rolling back into his head, hearing his breathing slow, slow, before he wasn’t making any sounds at all. 

It made Eddie’s fucking chest ache, but he didn’t stop. He twisted his hand against their cocks, gathered precome against his palm to keep slicking the way for his hand. 

Just when he was ready to loosen his grip– he’d been counting, knew that he needed to be careful or there would be damage and wouldn’t that just be the fucking kicker on top of the giant shit heap, Eddie Munson surviving monsters only to have to destroy himself because he’d snuffed out this golden boy. Just as his fingers began to ease up, Steve went stiff, choked out a sound as he came hard over their hands and his own shirt and their cocks and fuck if that didn’t have Eddie coming, too. He muffled the sound in Steve’s neck and rolled towards his fist, working them both through their orgasms. 

It wasn’t until Eddie was finished coming that he realized Steve was crying.

“Hey. Hey, honey. Shhh, Stevie, did I hurt you?” Eddie’s hands were even gentler now as he tipped Steve’s face up. “Honey, did I hurt you?” His lips followed the path of Steve’s tears before kissing his mouth lightly. “Talk to me, sweetheart. Please.” “I needed you to,” Steve choked out. He brought Eddie’s fingers to the line that he figured would scar over later. “I needed this to be from you, and not– not from them.” 

Eddie got it, then. He understood why he’d been dragged out here to skull rock, why Steve had kissed him hard, why a hand had disappeared into his pants before the rest of his mind could even process the fact that his pants had been opened. He tilted Steve’s head back and trailed feather soft kisses over the demobat wound. “I’m gonna take care of you, okay?” Steve, still crying quietly, just nodded. 

So Eddie took them back to Steve’s house. He stripped them both out of their lakewater clothes, got them into the shower, whispered promises of how he was going to take care of Steve as he washed away all of the blood and grime. By the time they were clean Steve had stopped crying. The trembling calmed as he watched nimble fingers re-clean and re-bandage his wounds like Eddie had done this a million times. It started up again when those chapped lips kissed each of the new bandages. 

“I’m sorry we don’t have more time.” They had to get back to the others. They had an apocalypse to avert, after all. “If we did…” “I know.” And he did know. He could see an alternate future where they did have all the time in the world, where their first time hadn’t been against a rock in the middle of the woods but in Steve’s bed– or maybe Eddie’s bed, or on his couch. The where didn’t matter. Eddie mattered. Eddie wanting to take care of him mattered. Steve leaned in, kissed Eddie gently, just once. 

They dressed. And it was back to the fight. 

—

Later, as Steve hauled Eddie on his back out of the Upside Down, he was the one whispering promises. He didn’t stop making those promises on the ambulance ride to the hospital, or as he sat by Eddie’s bed, begging and praying for him to wake up. 

He didn’t stop making them until Eddie’s eyes were open, and Steve realized that maybe they did have more time after all. 

[dipplinduo]

Fun fact about me: April 18th is my birthday! :)

And part of what I wanted to do to celebrate this year was to give back. Introducing * ~ a dipplinshipping birthday oneshot ~ * :

Rating: T

Summary:

Today was Kieran's birthday, but it was the last thing that mattered to him. In fact, he vowed it would never matter to him again. Instead, he would focus on things that would keep him strong: his battling, his strategizing, and his crown as the Blueberry Champion. His sister and the Elite Four won't stop asking him random questions, though, and if anyone brings up Juliana any more than they already have since she arrived as an exchange student, he's seriously going to lose it. But...why can't he stop thinking about her? And why is everyone acting so suspicious?!

A bittersweet birthday celebration fic for anyone who's had complicated feelings about their birthday. <3

Take this as a thank you to all of those who have followed my work and/or my Tumblr blog. I wouldn't have imagined having the support of this wonderful community on my last birthday, and I can't even begin to describe how encouraged and inspired I have felt to write since finding you guys. I have never written this much for this long, consistently, and your constant feedback and comments seriously brighten my day more than Juliana brightens up Kieran, LOL. Hope you enjoy this! <333

(And yeah, this fic is the "event based idea" that this poll was about. I thought it was so funny that some of you thought it was gonna be some devastating angst LMAOOOO. That's for after TTPD releases, tysm for the bday gift Taylor.)