#I don't care if it gets extinct soon

[pokaww]

Joe and his imaginary friends.🌸🌸

Bibulli 🐡🩵

Baflay 🦋💚

Lecalexa 🐈🩷

Xiuanlinlin☁️💛

[vinnyvamppp]

You know that to be Desired fic you wrote? Would you be willing to write one Where Mainstream Mark finds out about his other versions wanting his childhood, he gets jealous and decides he has to have them in every way possible, and his other versions can go fuck themselves.

To Be Wanted

Note: Great minds think alike, I actually created this the day after the first one blew up and scrapped it. I'm going on a whim and making this as literal as possible before delving into everything.

Synopsis: He was wrong, he was foolish, and he's here to make up for his mistakes. Of course, you were always the better option, and no one else needs you the way he does. (To Be Desired ABRIDGED)

Warnings: Smut, Sub/Dom Dynamics, Multiple Sex Positions, Pussy Eating, Jealousy/Possessive, Porn w a Plot, Mentions of Anal, Slight Foot Fetish, Mentions of Other Variants, Switch!Mark Grayson, Switch!Reader (both are pretty subby), He needs that cookie real bad, etc.

Mark Grayson x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2,700 (Had to make it equal to the prequel)

Mark's knuckles ached from the last punch he threw— his breathing ragged as he hovered above the city, eyes locked onto him. Another him. He could charge headfirst immediately, but as his eyes landed upon the destruction and chaos wailing around him— he could only think one thing. I want to see her. You were independent and creative on the battlefield, but even he was angered and fearful. What if these versions of him convoluted your impression of him? He never had the chance to fully confess, and right now? he hated this with every fiber of his being.

The city was unrecognizable, reduced to a graveyard of twisted steel and crumbling concrete. While the screams of the dying were drowned beneath the thunderous collapse of once-proud skyscrapers. Ichor slicked the pavement—bodies crushed beneath rubble or torn apart mid-air—and through it all, the Variants rained destruction without hesitation like a merciless plague of living extinction.

He shot forward, propelling through clouds of smoke tickling him. Smoke settled in his mouth, tasting charred wood and something almost metallic, like blood burned to dust. It was acrid and suffocating, but now was a moment of clarity. He was bruised, costume tethered as blood seeped from cuts among his skin, knuckles bruised with his eye threatening to swell shut.

This needed to be the end of their tyranny, and soon.

As Mark’s body cut through the wind with an unparalleled determination, fist meeting bone with a nauseating crunch, the force of the strike vibrating across the man's face. The variant groaned, wiping a smear of blood from his mouth, before turning towards him with that smug, knowing grin. "You don't get it, do you?" he taunted. "I don’t blame you. You weren’t there when she finally realized she didn’t have to wait for you."

Mark’s heart slammed against his ribs. He knew what the man meant, of the power you possessed. The familial ability to pierce a tear in the universe and peak into what the future beheld. This was an opportune time for you to be dissuaded—he didn’t seem to be the only candidate pursuing you—not with them here.

"Shut up."

The Variant only chuckled, tilting his head. "They say the multiverse is infinite, but you know what every version of us wants? Her. And we don’t hesitate. We don’t string her along. We don’t let her slip through our fingers a second—"

A second time. He didn’t wish to acknowledge that he never chose you, even when fate had bound you two together. He was lovesickV that was his biggest fault. Mark grabbed him by the throat and drove him through a building before he could finish. Glass and concrete exploded around them as they crashed through another two stories. "You think I don’t hesitate because I don’t care?" Mark growled, pressing his forearm against his Variant’s windpipe. "You think I don’t want her?!"

The variant only smirked, even with his air supply cut off. "Then why am I the one she's been warming up to?" His eyes widened in pure panic and rage flashed white-hot in Mark’s vision. He reared back, ready to hit him again when—

"Mark?"

The sound of your voice cut through the chaos like a blade. His breath hitched, movements halting as if to show the hold you had on him. Your costume was worn—the usual well-manicured appearance now frazzled from wages of war, and dried blood flaked against your skin. That look on your face… was different from the ones he recalled in his childhood. The difference was that the fuzzy warmth you once had, was slowly fading into something neutral, common, amongst the glances you shared with everyone.

Mark turned, his heart lurching as he saw another variant landing just a few feet from you. This one wasn’t fighting. He was standing too close, looking at you like he already owned you. His lips are pursing to deceive you. 

The Variant beside you reached for your hand. You were actually listening to him, just how many had found you by now? How many professed their love? "Come on. You don’t belong with him. Not when we—"

Mark didn't let him finish. In a blink, he was there— yanking the variant away from you and slamming him into the pavement so hard the ground cratered beneath them. "She’s mine," Mark snarled, gripping the Variant by the collar and lifting him up just to punch him back down. The variant spat blood— barely conscious, but Mark wasn’t done. "I don’t care how many of you there are," Mark seethed, throwing the variant across the street. "She’s mine. You want her? Go fuck yourself." His voice cracked with the sheer intensity.

After a long moment of silence, he turned to face you. Even after that display, you were left silenced. Truthfully, you had begun to consider their words— was it bitterness from his previous relationship with Eve? Or perhaps the feelings you forced yourself to bury? Being a hero made it easy to turn a blind eye, once you became resentful enough.

Mark’s breathing is shaky as he approaches you, his hands still trembling from the fight—from watching them try to take you, try to twist your mind into thinking they were better for you. It makes his stomach churn and his blood boil all over again. Because what if you had believed them? What if he’d been too late? When truthfully, they never stood a chance. 

“I mean it,” he said, his voice lower now— steady despite the adrenaline still coursing through him. “I don’t care what the others told you. I don’t care what they promised. They’re not me.” He awaited a response. Your lips parted, hesitation flickering in your expression. Not because you didn't feel something for him—he could see it. It was the uncertainty. Maybe even a little of the possessiveness still lingering in his tone.

So he softened. Mark reached out, his fingers barely brushing over yours as a silent question before running his thumb over your knuckles. The warmth nearly caused him to shiver. "I should have told you," he murmurs. "A long time ago. But I kept holding back because I thought—I don’t know, maybe I’d ruin things, maybe you didn’t see me the same way. But I can’t do that anymore. Not after seeing them try to take you away from me." You understood what he meant. This was his apology for abandoning you. Leaving when you received your powers—when he got his first girlfriend— when you needed a friend.

You stare at him, searching his face, your breathing uneven from adrenaline. He leans in, close enough that you can feel the way his breath trembles against your lips. "Tell me you want this," he demands with desperation. Your fingers trace along his jaw— voice a hushed whisper. “You threw a guy into the pavement for me, Mark. What do you think I want?”

Your voice is low but firm as you yanked him against you. “You’re the only one I’ve ever wanted.”

Mark knows he should be careful, knows he shouldn’t let his emotions swallow him, but then you’re pulling him closer, your fingers threading into his hair—body molding against his like you’re giving him the permission he so desperately craves.

And just like that—his restraint snaps.

Your back is against the nearest wall before you can process it, his lips crashing into yours with a fervor that nearly steals your breath. It’s messy, desperate—his hands gripping your waist like he needs proof that you’re his. He makes a noise in the back of his throat—something between a gasp and a holy shit again—before his grip tightens.

He groans into the kiss, his fingers sliding under the torn edges of your costume, skimming over bruised skin. "God, you’re so—" He exhales sharply— lips trailing from your mouth down to the curve of your jaw, then lower— ghosting over the pulse at your throat. He couldn’t stop touching you. He wouldn't stop.

You shudder as his teeth scrape lightly against your skin. "Mark—"

"No, seriously," he mumbles between kisses, words muffled against your collarbone. He found you to be perfect. The light in the muddled mess of his life. He could barely let you speak— just wanting to prove to you that he would always be the better option. 

His voice is wrecked now— breathless with want, and when you roll your hips against his just to tease, his breath hitches.

"Oh, my God," he chokes, pressing his forehead against your shoulder for a second. "Okay. Okay,—we should probably go home now because if we keep this up, I won't be stopping.” He was right; it was probably best if the news didn’t catch wind of the actual Invincible getting frisky in public during such a time. You bite your tongue, teasing, "You sure?"

Mark groans, lifting you effortlessly, his hands firm against your thighs as he takes off, propelling you both through the sky in a blur. "I have literally never been more sure of anything in my life," he says, his voice tight as he tries not to focus on the way your body is pressed against his—or how obvious his erection is right now.

But you do notice.

And when you grind down against his lap mid-flight, he lets out a noise so strangled and needy that he nearly forgets to keep flying. "Oh—shit, that’s—okay, wow, you’re evil. You’re actually evil. Holy shit, I’m gonna crash us into a building."

Once you two clumsily entered the sliding door of his home, your clothes were quickly strewn across the kitchen floor. He didn’t waste any time—his lips were on yours like a magnet—the taste of you intoxicating like he’d imagined. At this moment, he realized he would’ve never reacted the same for another woman. Excitement swelled his veins as you two collapsed against the couch. The renewed energy powering his body through its injuries.

Every part of you was his. From your knuckles to your shoulders, to your neck and collarbones, breasts— down to your toes. He’d make sure of it as every part of you was riddled with his saliva-ridden kisses. "I should’ve done this sooner—I should’ve made sure you knew you were mine before they even had the chance to try." He heaved— muscled body appearing from the crevices of your flesh. “No one else gets to touch you like this." His voice had a slight rasp, nearly distracting you from the harsh yank against your panties. At the sight alone he groaned— hands moving at inhuman speeds as he stripped himself of his boxers and the tight confines of your bra.

He moves lower, his lips tracing over your stomach— tongue dipping into your navel. You feel a rush of anticipation as he moves lower, his lips claiming your thighs. He parts your legs, his tongue tracing over your skin, his fingers moving to touch you. That’s when it happens— His tongue, almost hesitant, licks your cunt. Oh. You’re sweet like sugar all over. The realization dawned on him as his pupils dilated— lips messily smushed against your labia, and the rough texture of his dry tongue raked against your clit. The arousal that pooled from you was like water— his tongue seeking hydration. Your hips slowly rolled against his face; the soft mewls vibrating against your throat spurred him further.

It was almost sensual, slow as a reminder of who was between your legs right now. His muscular arms locked your hips into place as his tongue grew brutal. Its rapid— pleasurable lashes had you seeing stars. Just as you approached a quick orgasm, his tongue delved inside you, tongue-fucking you as far as his tongue could possibly reach. His nose nudged rhythmically against the bundle of nerves as his fingers glided up your abdomen— mapping out every curve to his memory. His hips rutting desperately against the now-damp couch cushion.

The quiet sound of the kitchen faucet dripping made your moans sound eerily loud. Your fingers roughly travel across his muscled forearm as your back arches into his mouth. With harsh gasps, your fingers roughly tapped him as he finally ripped the climax he so desired from you, his mouth covered in your scent. Divine.

Bringing himself up, his lips captured yours once more— your groans responding to one another. “You’re mine too, you know. But I like watching you get all worked up about it,” you mused breathlessly. He chortled quietly to himself— reddened and pulsing cock waiting readily in his grasp. Stroking it a few times between gasps, he spoke almost darkly amused. "They thought they could steal you from me, but they don’t know you like I do. They don’t know what you like. But I do." Before you could question him further on his remark, his hips snugly snapped against yours. His dick parted through you with ease as you both whined. The rhythm started slow, purposeful—punctuating with each thrust until he grew consumed with lust. Driving himself forward, the couch rocked from the unnatural movement. He had you completely beneath him, knees tucked against your chest and spread wide as his body pressed flush against yours. The wind was knocked out of you with every pummel, leaving you nearly salivating at the sensation. The raw sensation of your nipples rubbing against his chest adds a pleasurable sting to the mix, your hands now clawing at his shoulders.

"Mine. Mine. Mine," he muttered against the shell of your ear, his jaw unnaturally tight as he fought the urge to cum here and now. You were his—not theirs—just his alone in his suburban neighborhood when he should be putting an end to this. This was his moment to be selfish; to him, his need to defend was over until he devoured every inch of you. "God, I—fuck, I can't stop touching you. I don’t want to stop. You feel too good; you’re—oh my God, you’re everything." He rambled, abruptly pulling out, and a schlick sound echoed from between your legs. Suddenly, you were in his lap—pressed firmly against his torso, his hands wrapping around the width of your shoulders as he resheathed himself once more, his hips pistoning deeper into you. All you could manage was to bounce dumbly against him, the meat of his neck being your sanctuary as the skin absorbed the pornographic sound of your moans. He was breathless, barely able to contain himself as his skin became crowded in a red flush.

Then again—another position change, your bodies tangled together effortlessly, one of his legs hooked over your hip while the other remained stretched out beneath him. The angle was deep, intimate—allowing him to press closer, his body half-wrapped around yours as if he couldn’t bear to let go. Every movement sent a slow, rolling wave of pleasure through you, his hands gripping your waist to pull you even closer. His breath was warm against your skin—lips brushing against your shoulder as he murmured your name between each heated thrust. He slowly came up, hands spreading your ass cheeks as he watched himself be sucked into you willingly. The sight of your puckering hole clenching with each rock made his dick weep for its release. One hand melded against the fat of your ass, the other running up your sculpted calves until his lips mark your ankles and feet, his tongue swirling around your toe. "S... Say it again. Say you’re mine. Please—just say it." He pleaded, more so demanding as his movements became rougher— the couch shifting forward a few inches. “They don’t matter… I’m yours, Mark.” Your words were cut between burying your head in the couch pillows. “T-They don’t matter…” He echoed, a pleased groan vibrating against your foot.

Again. You were suddenly flipped as he stood, his feet backing into a wall as his knees nearly gave out from the sensations. You were hoisted into his arms as he bullied himself inside of you, both of your combined voices growing weak and raw. His neck craned lower as his tongue delved a nipple into his mouth—your skin was cold from a combination of sweat and his saliva. Creamy fluid leaked down his shaft as he unknowingly came from overstimulating himself. His hands gripped you hard enough to bruise, as you scratched up the length of his back, causing him to yelp. His canines finally blossoming their first hickey against your chest. Soon, his lips found yours, the rugged ends of your teeth nipping his lips hard enough to draw blood.

Not that it mattered—every scratch, bite, and pull only cemented one undeniable truth: you were his. And he wasn’t done. Not after feeling the slick warmth of your tongue against him, not after the way his thumb teased your rim while he moved inside you. Not even when he leaned you against the couch— having your legs straddle his as his tip prodded the entrance of your ass.

He seemed truly hellbent on caressing every inch. For further context, the previous two parts are listed in the MasterList ོ༘₊⁺☀︎₊⁺⋆.˚

[mythalism]

It struck me how profoundly uninterested the writers ultimately were in modern elves and elven culture. After 4 games, Origins is still the only one to offer up any info on them (with 2 adding certain tidbits) & it really hit me how colored their view is by their indigenous coding such that the elves aren't really shown to have any kind of society/civilization when compared to the dwarves 4 example, a people on the brink of extinction facing an almost perpetual Blight, yet still not solely defined by their struggle against the darkspawn. I don't mean to pit them against each other, but once I made the comparison I couldn't unsee it. We're challenged to show respect and learn about their customs & history as soon as we enter Orzammar and u cannot gain their aid until u fully engage with & submit to their political demands (Halamshiral wishes it had what Orzammar has!), your only influence is who comes out on top, and even that is a decision that has to be made by really getting a feel of their society and their different wants & needs, depending on caste & political allegiances. Whereas u can stroll into the Dalish camp and nothing stops u from only tackling the main quest, which is saving them from their curse (which turns out to be saving them from themselves<-a clue that'll become relevant later) by ideally convincing Zathrian to kill himself, an elf whose Hatred of Humans has gone too far (however justified his thirst for vengeance is) so he can be succeeded by Lanaya, a city-born elf who, despite being kidnapped as a child and kept as a slave, bears no grudge against humans. I'd be more forgiving if this wouldn't set the tone for their portrayal in subsequent games & didn't turn into 1 of 2 major(&only!) themes they cared to explore wrt elves. This obsession w/ elves not being agreeable enough can already be seen in the conversations u can have in their camp where at least 3 NPCs apologise for not being friendlier and I guess to make up for this cardinal sin all the side-quests (2 conv+2 fetch-quests) reward u with cool loot ranging from prized possessions to priceless artifacts, & the fact that u can get your hands on 2 valuable books on elven history teaches us early on that with minimal effort, any part of their history, no matter how sacred, becomes available for consumption. It seems important to add that both books can be given to the Mad Hermit who says he's gonna wipe his ass with them (this also reminds me of when Marethari gifts Hawke the Somniari book for no reason & it gets added directly to your trash pile). Which brings me to the other big theme: elven history is not for elves to explore and reclaim (&any attempt is dangerous+must be punished). While dwarves are allowed to be stewards of their own history&culture, and their pursuit of reclaiming thaigs & lost history (&their deep respect & attachment to that history) is generally presented as noble, elves are afforded no such dignity. I never realised the discrepancy, but from the start you have no choice but to take a dwarf with u when exploring the Deep Roads, whether that's Oghren, Shale, Valta or Varric, you are a partner & a guest, and, while u may help them in their journey of discovery, they always retain sovereignty. The only equivalent would be us getting an autistic Dalish girlie w/ a special interest in elvhen history whenever they feel like expanding the lore, using them as a vehicle for that, then punishing them for their 'overzealous' interest in their own past.

Velanna lucks out by virtue of being a dlc char & becoming a Warden, but she's still presented as being too into the elfy stuff even for her own clan, with the final straw that leads to her expulsion being wanting to get revenge on the humans who tried to burn their clan alive & took her sister(or so she thought). I appreciate that she's not shamed for her interest in elvhen history, but it's telling that the focus is on how misguided her quest for avenging her people is, with even her clan, when u meet them, still blaming her for her sister's fate & saying they're better off without her (interesting that Justice also disapproves, while at the same time berating Anders for not 'striking a blow against his oppressors, so they can do this to no one else', but apparently Velanna should atone to her oppressors and 'teach them'). Her best ending slide also has her warming to humankind & saving a whole village of them, as if that was our primary concern/her biggest problem to overcome, not making peace with her sister's fate.

Speaking of learning lessons, Merrill gets taught a harsh one, and while u can be supportive of her, you cannot escape this lesson, whatever u do: it is the height of hubris for elves to try and reclaim their past (or think they have a right to it), only humans can safely do it. Another ostracized First, one may be fooled into thinking the objection to Merrill is only the blood magic thing, but her first quest makes it clear the question u r being asked isn't is she right to use blood magic or should she limit herself to safer methods, but does she have a right to her People's history? It's so explicit that Merrill invokes that very right, vir sulevanan, in order to get the Arulin'Holm, a tool 'as old as Arlathan itself', only, after performing the service to her clan asked of her, Marethari hands YOU this artifact that'd been in their possession since before the fall of the Dales and tasks u with holding her heritage hostage!! And instead of her being disqualified from being Keeper ever again, you're left to interview Merrill to see if she deserves smth that belongs to her & u can choose to keep it from her! Why?? Marethari could've just not given it to her. Ofc, this all comes to a head in Pride's End where Merrill is yet again denied agency by her Keeper, & worse still, that baton is passed directly to you after her death, with u having to accept your paternalistic role or else slaughter her entire clan bc they don't accept any other answer than u taking full responsibility for Merrill. And, if u still need it drilled into u what this is really about, her rivalry path culminates, not in her disavowing blood magic forever, but in smashing her eluvian. Her friendship path also makes me uncomfortable, the conclusion being her clan are too backwards to ever get it, but at least she's free to chart her own course now. Set by you, ofc. You have the final say now, remember? Still, this is the last time the Dalish are a faction with any sort of agency. Maybe that's why you can wipe them out both times.

In Inq, sadly, they're relegated to a brief stop on the map on the way to saving their colonizers, a formality in order to gain access to their ruins, 1 of their warriors, & have the pleasure of picking the Dales clean without all that pesky white guilt! They even call the quest A Dalish Perspective when you're still viewing them thru a settler's lens; they're a problem to be solved, a list of complaints, they have no interiority, no ambient dialogue & the only lines they have are strictly quest related. They also pay the ultimate price for trying to reclaim their history, their deaths as inevitable as your success in safely claiming them. Twice Inquisition asks u: isn't their history safer, then, in the Chantry's hands? Morrigan's whole spiel fits here, too, ofc, as a human mage who argues her (stolen)knowledge gives her more of a right to the Well than any Dalish could hope to have. I also find it sad that in JoH, you discover Ameridan, & instead of getting to talk to his surviving clan, the only conclusion to his quest is this: it's the elves' fault the Dales fell.

All of this to say, the conclusion 2 Bellara's arc doesn't come out of nowhere when you consider it a culmination of this throughline. You finally get to answer once and for all: do elves deserve to recover their lost history? At least you can say yes.

10/10 no notes. only thing i have to add is how interesting it is that the devs had an inkling of awareness of how harmful their writing of the elves was in previous games - epler mentioned how they took the criticism of how you can kill an entire dalish clan in every single game into consideration with veilguard.... and the conclusion was that...... "the elves had their time to shine"? and they should be relegated to basically set dressing in the background of a story revolving entirely around their own history and religion? and told "get over it. just move on." instead of just... portraying them with more nuance, sensitivity and empathy? maybe hiring some more diverse writers? a sensitivity reader/editor? or just ignore the problem entirely........ there is no war in ba sing se..... there is no elven oppression in thedas....

[poopfartlesbian]

May I please request some WaveWave x gn human reader romantic headcanons :0?

In general and how you think their dynamic would unfold with their human partner :3

Maybe the reader is more into science like paleontology (study of ancient) or smth (totally not projecting myself in that 😪 /s)

I love my scientist wife n our awesome bf a lot!!

Tysm in advance n I hope you have a good rest of your day/night 💞

ABSOLUTELY!! I love reading some WaveWave x reader myself so I'll definitely be doing more like this :3

Not sure what iteration you wanted so I tried to keep it pretty open but it leans a lot into Transformers Prime

WaveWave x GN! Reader headcanons!

I may have done a lot this time lol

- Shockwave is the cold logic; Soundwave is the quiet connection; You're the soft middle, the grounding presence that makes their extremes balance out. You bring warmth and curiosity that fascinates them both. Shockwave admires your intelligence and methodical thought process, while Soundwave is drawn to the emotional depth you quietly exude, even in analytical discussions.

- Soundwave communicates mostly through body language, text projection, or sharing earth music he thinks you would enjoy. You grow fluent in his subtle ways of expressing affection.

Shockwave doesn’t understand emotional nuance well, but he tries, often asking very clinical questions like, “Is this level of proximity within your acceptable parameters?” to which you find both funny and endearing.

You sometimes end up being the “translator” between their methods, and they grow increasingly fluent in understanding you as a result.

- Shockwave builds you custom tech to monitor your vitals and filter out harmful air particulates when you’re working in the field. He sees your fragility as a variable to be compensated for, thought you insist that you can handle yourself, you appreciate his consideration and care for you.

Soundwave is the silent guardian—tracking your movements, ensuring you’re safe when you go hiking to examine rock strata or fossil beds. You often get a quiet ping from your phone with a “drink water” reminder. It's him.

- Shockwave is intrigued that you study ancient life. He often offers technical equipment to assist in excavation or analysis, fascinated by how organic evolution and extinction mirror aspects of Cybertronian history.

Soundwave records your fieldwork without you noticing at first, later giving you a perfectly edited time-lapse video of your dig sites to help you keep track of the rhings you find at various locations.

- Shockwave will ask extremely specific questions about extinction events, biome shifts and whatnot and then compare them to Cybertron’s ecological collapses. He silently enjoys your passionate rants.

Soundwave installs a holographic projector that lets you walk among full-scale reconstructions of ancient creatures—imagine a private AR museum just for you so you can go into further detail much easier.

- Shockwave claims he "doesn’t date,” but he will go out of his way to take you and Soundwave to the middle of nowhere at night with a high-powered telescope to stargaze. He explains galactic structures in stunning detail while holding your small hand like it’s an important relic, something rare and delicate.

Soundwave prefers quiet companionship. He’ll let you sit on his shoulder and lean on his helm while you read or let you ramble about prehistoric fauna for hours. Every so often, he’ll gently tap your head in acknowledgment, it’s his version of a kiss.

- Neither are built for soft human affection, but they both try. Shockwave often hold you in his hand or on his shoulder during trips or when he's in the lab. Soundwave also likes to hold you in his servos.

They don't really say “I love you,” but;

Shockwave: “Your continued presence elicits favorable neural reactions. I would prefer you not leave my presence anytime soon.”

Soundwave: [projects a visual of a heart]

- You’re the one constant they don’t calculate or surveil. They simply trust you. Which is huge.

They bicker—quietly, scientifically—but they both defer to you as the emotional barometer when things get tense. You’re the balance between logic and silence, and they never take that for granted.

[kittenshift-17]

Omg I feel like any teen wolf fic (sterek fic) you write would be amazing, on that topic ur an amazing writer and I’m glad that one day I stumbled upon one of your fics. And also speaking of sterek fics (or any teen wolf fic) do u have and recommendations on what to read for that fandom???

Okay, so I took my time with this one because I had read some, but not a lot... but oh boy, did I deep dive into the research to bring you some top tier Sterek Fic Recs.

TOP 20 STEREK RECS

Play It Again by metisket ***I LOVED THIS ONE***

In which Stiles goes along with one of Derek’s plans and ends up in an alternate universe as a result. He should’ve known better. He did know better, actually, and that means he has no one to blame but himself.

“Laura wants to lure the kid in with food and kindness and make a pet of him, like a feral cat. Derek wants to have him arrested for stalking. They’re at an impasse. (And the rest of the family is staying emphatically out of it in a way that suggests bets have been placed.)”

So Shed Your Skin and Lets Get Started by halfhardtorock

He's sixteen and in the woods on the wrong side of the town-line and he's so fucking fucked.

He knows he's not supposed to run, they teach that to you in preschool (don't run from a Were, back away slowly and walk with care), but they never told you how it would feel, standing alone in the dark with your heart beating in your throat as those glowing eyes tracked you from the shadows.

Don't Feed the Wolves by Amazonia_8

Stiles took the dare, because what else was he supposed to do when the whole lacrosse team was chanting his name? Even though the werewolf pack had left Beacon Hills years ago, nobody was stupid enough to set foot on the Hale property.

Except, apparently, Stiles.

Now he's got a feral werewolf following him around town with the sole purpose of claiming Stiles as his own.

so now you've got the best of me (come on and take the rest of me) by mangotangos

"It doesn't matter how hot Derek is, how Stiles barely comes up to his shoulders or how Derek's hands could probably fit really snugly around his waist. None of it matters, because he's basically a glorified babysitter for the foreseeable future and Stiles wants him out. Operation annoy Deputy Derek Hale into leaving begins now."

~or, the one where Stiles' dad hires Deputy Derek to be Stiles' bodyguard, Stiles hates him on principle and then 2 seconds later falls in lust (and love) and tries to seduce him into bed with his sexual prowess.

There Are No Wolves In California by kitsunequeen

Hunter!Stiles accidentally hits a wolf with his car and can't bear to leave him in the road to die. It's not till he gets the wolf home that he sees its eyes glow red... ------- Even everyday roadkill is upsetting, but this thing… Moments ago it was probably a majestic beast, and now it’s a mangled pile of soon-to-be rotting flesh. He presses a shaking hand to the only part of its chest left intact, not even thinking about whether it'll give him rabies or some other awful disease.

He’s about to pull back when something even crazier happens.

He realizes the wolf is breathing.

(not so) Pure Imagination by theroguesgambit

"There is a world where whenever someone fantasizes about you, you can physically feel it, but you have no idea who is thinking it about you."

Stiles knows it's wrong, but he's been Fantasizing about Derek and he can't bring himself to stop. Derek doesn't know who's taken an interest in him, but he's enjoying it way more than he probably should.

Little Wild Animal by DiscontentedWinter

Derek Hale finds a feral human on his pack's property. Humans are supposed to be extinct. But then, Stiles is full of surprises.

The Darkness Inside by isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella)

The sheriff watched him for a moment, then he sighed and turned slightly. He reached out to open a cabinet door beside him, and pulled out a shelf. It was on a track, so it rolled out of the cabinet fairly easily, and held a small CCTV. Derek frowned and inched his chair to the side a little bit so he could get a better angle.

He was looking at a teenager, or someone at least young enough to be the same age as Scott. He was sitting on a bed in what looked to be a larger room, the area he was in surrounded by four glass walls, with his legs crossed and head tilted.

He was also staring directly into the camera, as if he knew someone was watching. A creepy smile slowly slid onto the teen’s face, and he held up one hand, wiggling his fingers in a slow, eery wave.

Derek felt his mouth run dry. He didn’t know who this kid was, but he didn’t like him.

“Who is that?” he asked quietly.

“That,” said the sheriff, “is my son.”

What I Did On My Summer Vacation by grimm for missingsun

There's something weird about Beacon Hills that Stiles can't quite put his finger on. The way everyone in town knows his name the day he arrives. The way they insist the melancholic howling that echoes through the forest every night is just a dog. The way his dad denies getting a dog, even though Stiles comes home to find one sprawled across his bed, some big black thing whose eyes gleam red in the right light. The way that massive oak tree out in the woods vibrates under his touch, pulsing with sickly life.

There's something weird going on in this town, and Stiles is determined to get to the bottom of it.

Patterns of Intention by drunktuesdays

Derek looked like the stuff of his deepest fantasies. His shirt was rumpled where Stiles had his hands in it, and he was breathing hard as well, chest heaving. His eyes—his eyes were glazed over and he looked stunned, like he’d been—like Stiles had—

“No,” Stiles said, blood draining from his face. The word was croaky and felt like it had to be wrenched out of his chest. “God, no.”

Wants & Needs by MadcapRomantic

Derek Hale has been participating in the Beacon Hills Mating Run for a decade, each year coming up without a mate. His mother, convinced this is his lucky year, persuades him to run one last time.

Enter Stiles, a young Omega with an unwanted Alpha nipping at his heels.

Family or not, Peter is determined to have Stiles.

But convinced they are True Mates, there isn't anything Derek won't do to keep Stiles safe.

I don't know why, but I guess it has something to do with you by LunaCanisLupus_22 for xXxClassifiedxXx 

“You smell like me,” the guy says, scowling as he crowds in and Stiles staggers back between the coats and finally hits the wall. “Why do you smell like me?”

He barely lets out a garbled sound as the blood rushes to his cheeks. “No reason,” Stiles yelps, struggling to get his footing and grasping at a whirlwind of puffy fur.

Or the one where Stiles goes thrift shopping and steals an alpha's shirt. And gets a lot more than he bargains for.

Sleeping Dogs by starsystems

Let sleeping dogs lie. Prov. Do not instigate trouble.;Leave something alone if it might cause trouble.

Derek Hale is asleep in Stiles's bed. And it just escalates from there.

Because of course it does.

We've Written Volumes (in Blood and Scars and Ink) by notthequiettype

Stiles is on his back on hard-packed dirt. He's cold and there are leaves stuck to his neck and there's a four inch gash in his side that he thinks he can feel his ribs through. There's so much blood around him he feels like he's floating on a pond and everything is so much dimmer above him than it was a minute ago, which is saying something because he's in the dark center of the forest in the middle of the night. And the worst of it is that he's alone, totally alone with the smell of his own blood drowning him and the soft side of him run through by a tree.

As his eyes slip shut, the last thing he thinks is, "This is going to kill my dad."

In Case You Didn't Know by Blu_Crowe

Stiles moves into the lofts, and he and Derek start to get closer. Unfortunately Stiles is a moron, and Derek is bad at feelings. They figure it out... Eventually.

Stilinski's Home for Wayward Wolves by owlpostagain

“At least your puppies knock first,” Stiles snorts. “Here I thought their alpha raised them to be well-mannered.” 



“There’s a sign,” Derek responds stiffly. 



Stiles, whose curiosity outweighs even his hardest of grudges, abandons his chilly façade of nonchalance in a heartbeat. He jumps right up and all but pushes Derek out of the way in his effort to get to the window, and sure enough when he leans outside there’s a laminated strip of cardstock duct taped to the vinyl siding: 



DON’T FORGET TO KNOCK Stiles gets cranky when we scare him

---

Or, in which Stiles Stilinski moves to Beacon Hills for his junior year of high school and accidentally adopts a pack of teenage werewolves.

Lock All The Doors Behind You by entanglednow

He has no idea what you're supposed to say when you find one of your...werewolf acquaintances, completely out of their mind, growling like they're about to see what your insides taste like. There's no handbook for this. Stiles is thinking that if he survives he might write one.

Feral Formalities by Aleandri

"There was silence as no one seemed to breath at the table.

Derek had just gifted Stiles, an unmated Omega, with food.

Right in front of another Alpha.

Who he was on a date with.

To discuss being heat partners...."

*In which, Stiles presents as Omega, and everyone wants a piece of the alpha-baby-making ass!*

for a good time, call... by EvanesDust for kalika_999

Stiles unlocks his phone to send out a quick text asking his father what he wants to eat, even though he’ll get salad regardless, and notices a strange number on his recent call log.

His face scrunches in confusion before realization dawns on him.

Oh shit.

Events from the night before peek through the hazy fog of his mind. Stiles thought, or he was hoping, that the phone call was a dream. But there it is, staring at him in the face—a one minute and 57-second call to an unfamiliar number.

Oh God.

Did he seriously call someone—possibly an alpha werewolf!—for phone sex?

...Or the one where Stiles drunk dials a very grumpy alpha werewolf and propositions him for phone sex. Hilarity, misunderstandings, and feelings ensue.

Golden Boy by trilliath 

Apparently it still amuses his uncle to buy sex slaves for him, no matter how steadfastly he refuses to use them. Derek ducks into his tent with a resigned sigh, prepared to dress and reassign whatever new beauty Peter has bought him. They do make for loyal servants, so he can't really complain about Peter's 'gifts'. But it is annoying to deal with, to have to spend his evening sorting out a slave instead of being able to go right to bed. It's just something he has to learn to accept as a byproduct of serving alongside his uncle.

But when he lays eyes on the boy laying amid his furs, he finds his breath catching in his throat. His skin is golden with the candle-light glimmering against the sheen of oil that has been slathered on his bared body. His lips are parted, and they work over inaudible words or sounds. His skin is flushed, nipples peaked and pierced with simple but unexpected golden rings. He's spectacularly beautiful in the candlelight. The many glowing candles that have been added to his usual lighting cast glittering edges and shadows, imbuing an almost unearthly golden color to his skin.

It's enough that Derek hesitates.

[siriuslyobsessedwithfiction]

just thought that the tale of the Too-Clever Fox could be interpreted like "don't try to make things better", that fits really nice in the bigger grishaverse narrative (about which you talked in post about Bagra, Alina, etc), that only inaction is good and iniciative is ultimately evil

and just how fucked up the author must be to write, even accidentally and subconsciously, such narrative

Very interesting interpretation. Haven't looked at it that way. (omg you remembered my post about Baghra? I'm blushing).

There is definitely a message of "don't overreach", even if the said "overreaching" is just an effort to help your people. I don't remember the details but I think the fox was trying to figure out who the hunter who was killing animals in the forest was, right? And he nearly got skinned because he thought he could outsmart the hunter. Might be just my good natured approach, but the message I took was "no matter how clever you think you are, no one is immune to loneliness." Since the trap the real hunter used was loneliness. That's how she lured the animals.

To be fair, the Darkling did fall for the loneliness trap. He got hopeful too soon and decided that Alina would see reason and follow along. But people don't always see reason and you can't just teach them to care about things. Alina didn't care about Grisha struggles, genocide, their liberation and extinction being on the line, the revolution, Ravka being threatened by two countries, collapsing economy, etc. She was all too glad to leave everything up to an idealist picaroon (avanturist. Shame this word doesn't exist in English, it describes Nikolai charming Alina and using her forces to get the throne perfectly). Nikolai did have potential to be like Peter the Great, a historical figure which he is based on, a relentless driving force which would restore Ravka. But his character got flattened in KoS duology. Him being a clever politician while having an experienced advisor and a proper general like the Darkling would be *chef's kiss*.

There is no greater example for advising inaction in Grishaverse than in Shadow and Bone trilogy. (Once again, Alina neglecting her responsibilities and never showing any compassion for her people is not the same as Katniss settling down after the war.) I actually love The Language of Thorns. It's my favorite book in Grishaverse. It still baffles me to this day that she wrote those fairytales with a dark twist so cleverly but then went and wrote KoS duology with that many plot inconsistencies and half-baked conflict resolutions. Maybe Leigh Bardugo having a ghost writer rumors are true after all.

[harunayuuka2060]

Vil: I find it unexpected that you had chosen to be closed for the entirety of the previous weekend, Azul.

Azul: We went on a short vacation.

Vil: With MC, I supposed?

Azul: Yes. It was quite a lot of fun. *chuckles*

Vil: And you didn't even think of inviting me.

Azul: I'm awfully aware that you have a busy schedule. I couldn't possibly bother you, however, I would surely invite you next time.

Vil: *sigh* Anyway, I came here to borrow MC. Are they here at the moment?

Azul: I'm afraid they wouldn't be working today.

Vil: Why? A day-off after a weekend vacation?

Azul: They are exhausted after they had an intense pole-dancing competition with Floyd and Jade's father.

Vil: ...

Vil: What?

MC: We're doing an exotic dance. Not an extinct dance. Why the actual fuck you look like you're being grilled on a skewer?

Leech's dad: What? This is sexiness! Tell 'em, ma!

Leech's mom: *just smiling* No comment, dear. But you're doing great.

Azul: *recording the whole situation and is trying not to laugh like Jade and Floyd who's been wheezing for an hour*

Cheka: MC! MC! Let's go to Unca!

MC: *cuddling him* I'm exhausted. You go there yourself.

Cheka: *whines* But I want you to see Unca~!

MC: I know his face. I don't have to see him.

Cheka: *pouts*

Ruggie: Boss, it's rare to see you this tired.

MC: *yawns* Yeah. Not used to travelling under water.

Ruggie: I figured. By the way, boss? Can I borrow some money from you again? I'll give it back as soon as I can.

MC: When did I ask you to pay, Ruggie?

Ruggie: Shyeheehee! Right. Thanks, boss.

Ruggie: I'll do your groceries.

MC: Okay. *uses Cheka as a chin rest*

Cheka: Are you going to sleep?

MC: Yes... Shush...

Deuce: I wonder if boss is inside.

Ace: We didn't see them at Mostro Lounge.

Jamil: However, wouldn't it be rude to visit them without prior notice?

Floyd: Nah~. They don't really care.

Kalim: That's great! 'Cause we badly need their help.

Floyd: *kicks the door open*

Ace, Deuce, Jamil, and Kalim: !!!

Jamil: Don't you know how to knock?!

Floyd: Knock-knock~. There.

Jamil: ...

Ace: Let's just go inside.

Deuce: Boss... Are you sleeping right now?

MC: My eyes are closed but I'm listening.

Cheka: Multi-tasking!

Ace: Okay... Well, we have a problem in the Basketball Club.

Kalim: And Pop Music Club!

MC: Uh-huh. And what are those problems that deserve half of my attention?

Floyd: We need a basketball coach~.

MC: You can do that one, Floyd.

Floyd: *scoots to their side* But that's a boring job~.

MC: And what about the Pop Music Club?

Jamil: They're going to get disbanded if they fail to find new members to join their club.

Kalim: Please, MC! Can you take part in our concert?!

MC: What d'you wanna me do? Sing?

Kalim: Yes!

MC: *opens their eyes and looks straight at him* What if I have an awful voice?

Floyd: They have a beautiful voice. I've heard it once.

MC: Tch. You're not helping, Floyd.

Deuce: I want to hear boss sing!

Ace: Geez. Your fanboy energy, Deuce.

Jamil: I know it's not much, but I can offer my services to you.

MC: *raises an eyebrow*

MC: ...

MC: You cook curry?

Jamil: ...

Jamil: *smiles* Yes.

MC: We have a deal.

Floyd: Hehe~. You're so cheap.

MC: There's no cheap with good food.

Cheka: Unca can cook curry!

MC: No, he can't.

Ace: Why is he suddenly mentioning Leona-senpai here?

MC: He's trying to pair me with his Unca. *yawns*

Cheka: *pouts* But you and Unca would fit together.

Floyd: Just give up. My dad got a kick in the face and when he tried to set them up with a friend.

MC: Yeah. Just like Floyd said.

Cheka: ...

Cheka: Are you going to kick me in the face? *puppy eyes*

MC: Yes. But you're a kid so you're exempted.

Cheka: Hehe~.

Ace: Wow.

[verdemoth]

(CLOSED FOR NOW) EMERGENCY 'mice in the walls :(' COMMISSIONS

Update 01-16-2025: got some comms fast! I have 3 people w 4 artworks to work on right now so I’ll see how this small batch shakes out before i bite off more than I can chew, thank you everybody 💖💕

Art Examples mostly from the last year or so. More examples in the '#my art' tag on this blog

Yeah there's mice in the walls and ceiling and it's far too large a problem to put off or take care of on our own with a few traps. I live with my grandma, grandpa, and granny, and all four of us are disabled and can't work, so we have very little money and many problems requiring money, it's quite a pinch. Need to start getting pest control ASAP so I'm opening commissions in the hope of easing the financial strain as much as I can.

Paypal is my only way of accepting payment right now. I will expect payment in full via invoice after I have provided a sketch for feedback purposes & proof of work. Once payment is received, artwork will be completed as soon as possible. If an issue on my end prevents me from completing the work in a timely manner, full or partial refunds can be discussed depending on the state of the work done.

My prices can be haggled with, but at a baseline I estimate:

Coloured Fullbody -> 30 USD/43 CAD

Coloured Headshot/Bust -> 15 USD/22 CAD

Sketch Fullbody -> 10 USD/15 CAD

Sketch Headshot/Bust -> 5 USD/7 CAD

*Coloured works may be lineless or lined

Free Additions: simple accessories (eg glasses, some jewellery), simple minimal shading, some simple props (+ won't charge extra for disability aids/accessibility items), request a specific style I've used in past works

Additions at Extra Charge (discussed on a case-by-case basis): extra characters/extra artwork, complex time-consuming designs/outfits/props/poses, Extra Extra Clean lineart, scene elements, full & layered shading based on light sources, background scenery

I can do custom designs but expect prices to be higher for the extra time and work

Vetos: I will not take human/majority humanoid or complex mech comms right now as that is a great deal more work for me that I don't feel I can currently fulfill up to my own standard of quality (may change as I get a sense for my current limitations). I don't draw NSFW or fetish content in any circumstances. May reject comms I'm personally uncomfortable with

Specialty: Any variety of animals, creatures, monsters, and etc. Extant, extinct, fantasy, mashup. Especially if feral, but most anthro characters will also do.

When the artwork/design comm is payed for and done, it belongs to the commissioner to do what they want with. Credit is requested, if on toyhouse I'm Tala2121.

[thevoidscreams]

Chaplain anon here!

I don't actually know what chapter he is, the pauldron that's supposed to have his chapter badge on it is black and has engraved silver words all over it instead, and his other pauldron's been scratched up so I can't tell what was on it anymore. He won't tell me when I asked, either, I think it makes him upset to talk about it.

I realised though, that he's only started stealing my blankets and stuff after I asked him about missing the orphaned neophytes that used to be at the shelter, coz I remembered someone mentioned Chaplains also feel more comfortable if they have some neophytes to care for. Could that be related? Does he think I'm going to adopt a neophyte soon?

My boys say the black with silver words is a likely indicator that he served with the black watch.. whatever that is. They wouldn't give specifics. If you know his name they said they might be able to help piece it together based on language or sound. Also what color and or pattern is his armor? They also said, though this is less likely that he may be the last standing member of his chapter as sometimes they "go extinct". Which I absolutely HATE the idea of. It just makes me so sad. ;^;

And as for bringing a neophyte in. If there are astartes housing grants where you are you may wish to put in a request and maybe get a slightly bigger space to bring in a neophyte. My apothecary, the oldest of my astartes, has help with a few neophyte check ups. Even getting one in for a transition into full astares hood or some such.

He says that the youngest of his brothers and cousins need the most care and mentorship of all. As they were never able to finish what they started prior to the transition. It sounds like starting puberty and just never being able to finish it. Which is like YIKES! Hate hate hate the mere thought of it! Maybe if you scored us a pic as well, we'd be able to tell.

[killer-blowmybrain]

ssssooooooooo this idea has been stuck in my mind for a LONG time istg

it just started with a silly drawing, but my head thought started to think more ideas about it AND EVEN MADE A WHOLE MECHANIC FOR THE CREATURE

BUT

@karineverse but slugcat

okay okay now hear me out hear me out ok

THIS is kane, is a slugcat with a star shape tail and a hairy lil fella, ke's tail can grab things, lure alive food and even blind enemies for 10 secs. kane can eat most food hunter can eat.

because of ke's fluffy body, in the timeline Kane's compaign would happen after rivulet's. the snow is still not so cold as it is in saint's compaign, so kane would be able to survive in these conditions without fear.

and another mechanic that is more silly, is that you can tame lizards more faster as kane!!!! for example, if you need 2 to 3 food to tame a green lizard, you can tame him by 1 to 2 with kane.

anyways full canvas below

i will yap a lil more because i can't let this idea die okay

let's say Kane's compaign would be a little more complex. because of the show being just born in the world, lizards and other creatures would be slowly dying by the freezing, they are not prepared for this, they don't have fur to live in these conditions and WILL die and get extinct.

cycle by cycle you will be seeing corpses of lizards and smaller creatures on the floor, all of them died by the freezing snow. and by this, in the compaign you can see pink and blue lizards stop spawning after a while.

the rot will start to appear more as he can eat more now, all the dead corpses and little creatures will start dying and the rot will eat EVERYTHING. getting more strong and huge. surviving here is more dangerous than you can think

luckily, kane can eat lizards. but they aren't so tasty when dying from the snow. so in this situation, it's better if you just eat creatures that you just KILLED because they are more fresh than the corpses on the floor.

i just said about other creatures, but let's remember that KANE, is a creature too. you have to take care of yourself even if you have fur. you CAN die like these other creatures, you CAN be one of the corpses on the floor, YOU CAN DIE AND YOU KNOW THAT.

you know that lizards are now desperate to survive, as they see more and more of their species dying, so that's why taming them is so easy. and it's even better if you tame and take care of them. by this you can be getting more food and heat from ur friend. being easily to both survive in freezing cycles

FREEZING CYCLES are more dangerous, you will wake earlier, your den will not be filled with water, but the snow will make it freeze and break. if you stay in there you will die so it's better to get out soon as possible.

when a freezing cycle starts, the snow will be more dense and hard, being even able to carry you because of it's strong and heavy wind. we can get saint's campaign as a example for it.

the tips to survive in a freezing cycle is:

• to be very close to your lizard (if you have one).

• to get out of the snow's sight as possible as you can, and if you have a lantern, KEEP IT. a spear won't make you survive in this cycle.

• try to eat and get to sleep fast, the snow will just get worse and all you can do is get away from it faster as you can.

• do NOT try to get back to the destroyed den, by the time it will be already broken and you can die by hypothermia if you sleep on it.

keep yourself safe, creature.

i'm writing this for 2 hours rn so i think it's time to post it LOL

maybe i can continue this and tell more ideas i had of it:)

[marshemillow]

your analogy hinges on people only being able to care about one thing at a time, requiring we sacrifice one cause for the good of the other, which i would hope isn’t something you actually believe. BOTH are problems. one is a much greater problem, but the other is a problem i can actually influence myself. “threatened species need conservation efforts too” doesn’t suddenly mean “we should let all the critically endangered species go extinct to save those threatened species,” it means we need to put our efforts towards fixing both. because one is a more serious issue, but they both are issues that must be addressed nonetheless.

i cannot stop child sexual exploitation rings, believe it or not. i don’t work in law enforcement, i’m barred from it by my disability actually. they need much more resources than i could provide. i have exactly zero influence over fixing that problem. but i DO have influence in fandom spaces, and i can do a whole lot of something about the evils present there. the lesser of two evils is still evil. being aroused at the thought of children, even in fiction, is evil. it makes you an evil person. you might not be a predator, but that doesn’t mean you aren’t evil too. you’re just a different kind.

i’m also nonbinary by the way? no clue where we got nazism and transphobia from.

You just gave me a whole speech about how people who have bad thoughts and watch bad cartoons are evil, and you're confused about why I thought you were a nazi? You're either taking the piss or a goddamn idiot, and I'm not willing to entertain your bullshit either way.

Your "influence" has actually done nothing but drive good people out of fandom and scared people to suicide, by the way; People who don't even have sexual thoughts about children, we're talking people who just got caught up in the crossfire. If you think that kind of oppressive environment is less evil than being able to talk about abuse openly and realistically, well then I guess good for you?? But you can miss me with that shit. Being queer yourself doesn't absolve you of spreading bigotry, it just makes you a hypocrite.

Look at me, anon; People play Counter Strike every goddamn day, and I don't see your type ever call them degenerates for fantasizing about violence and getting off on killing people, even child NPCs, but as soon as the motive is sexual it's completely different. Why? Think on that, look up what purity culture is, look up what evangelical Christianity is, then look back at this bullshit you sent me and see if you notice a pattern.

Also, I love how in the conservation example, both groups still include real animals. What about fictional animals? Don't endangered pokemon worry you too, anon? Shouldn't you be crusading against the bad treatment of people's Clefairys and Geodudes? Why do people force their pokemon to fight to the point where they lose consciousness??? The fact that people even THINK about that let alone actually do it in pokemon the video game makes them evil!!! Animal cruelty is not a joke!!! Pokemon may not matter like real animals, but fantasizing about forcing animals to fight to near death still makes you an evil person!!!

Any more asks like this will be blocked and deleted. I'm tired, okay? Maybe one day when you grow up and have real problems, people watching cartoons will be less of an issue to you and normalized bullying and cyberstalking of real children will be more of an issue. Hopefully. Now fuck off.

[bunbun-mochi]

The Bounty on Our Heads

Rafayel x MC (slight fluff, mostly violence)

Warning: non-major character deaths, violence

Word Count: 1536, no proofreading

Preview: Rafayel and MC have a mission. To take down anyone who dared to use Lumerians as pets. This mission, they are hunting down families that were involved in poaching lumerians.

The Bounty on Our Heads is a series of Rafayel and MC where humans are hunting Lumerians to keep as pets and use them as test subjects. Rafayel and MC find those who are responsible and bring them to justice.

Disclaimer: This is an alternative AU. Lumerians were being threatened by humans but aren't extinct or endangered. The theme is like 1800s theme.

The moon used to shine so brightly in the night sky. Now, it is covered by clouds, as if shielding the moon from the gruesome scene.

A once lively giant mansion was now eerie silent except for the dripping of blood and the click from the high heels. A woman, covered in blood, walked out of the mansion.

"One more down." She said, throwing a long hairpin to the ground. "Two more to go."

"Have you heard? Another family dead!"

"Which one?"

"The Lewis family!"

"Oh my god, that is awful!"

"Trust me, this is a curse! The siren's curse! They found the same hairpin, carved as a fishtail, on the crime scene!"

I took a bite of my muffin. Another family died last night. That is the news for today. Newspapers were out and police are investigating the death. Terror had reigned in this country.

I smirked to myself. It is indeed a curse.

"Do you think the lumerians were involved?" My ears immediately perked up from the word 'lumerians'.

"I bet. Four families that had lumerians are all dead!"

"I heard Lewis family were involved in selling lumerians."

"Shh shh! Don't talk about lumerians. If you talk about them, you can curse yourself!"

I snorted. Should I blow up the mansions so the police won't find anything?

The next family is the Moore family. Moore family wasn't hard to find evidence. Their entire house were littered with evidence that they were involved in poaching lumerians.

I left my half eaten muffin on the table, dropped some money onto the table and left the tavern and made my way to the theatre.

"You're here early." Rafayel said as I sat down.

"I missed you." I answered.

Rafayel chuckled, "I'm touched. I missed you too." He pecked me on the lips. "Good job last night."

"I smiled. Thanks. You did well too." Then I smirked, "Though, your efforts were in vain. They said nothing about you in the news."

Rafayel shrugged, "That's a good thing. Or else the police will start to connect the dot."

I nodded in agreement. "There's Moore family and Anderson family left. I'm going for Moore first."

"No, go for Anderson first." I looked at Rafayel in confusion. "They suspected that Moore is next. It'll be more interesting if you go for Anderson first."

I nodded, "You got it." I stood up.

"MC." Rafayel stood up with me. "Please be careful."

I kissed him on his lips. "I will."

Rafayel was right. Going for Anderson is a good idea. The reason is that the Moore family is with the Anderson family. I sat near the ceiling, having the shadows cover my existence as I listened in.

"Those people killing us families trying to give a message. I bet it's those planet-loving maniacs, killing families to show that we should respect other... creatures." One spat. "Disgusting. They always go so far to get their message across."

"D-d-do you think we are safe here?" One studdered. He was shivering like he was afraid. "Are you sure they won't find us here?"

This person must be in the Moore family.

"Relax, I have intel that they are going for your house first. I would love to see their face when they realize that house is empty."

I snorted, loudly.

"Who's there?" Oops, I might've snorted too loudly. Guess it's time to finish the job.

I slowly emerged from the shadows, "Knock knock, it's the planet-loving maniacs." As soon as I finished talking, unsheathed my weapon and killed them. One by one. Blood danced. Blade twinkled under the light. It was truly a magnificent scene. Perhaps I should get Rafayel to paint this picture.

There weren't many in the room. They suspected that I would go for Moore first, so they sent a majority of their guards there. Idiots.

I climbed out the window and looked up at the moon. The clouds slowly moved away from the moon, shining the road toward the woods. I jumped down and made my way toward the sea.

Little did she know that not everyone in the room was dead. One of the maids was hiding in the cabinet, she was there to get away from working. But instead, she was met with the gruesome scene left by the assassin. A fishtail hairpin sticking on one of the bodies.

Rafayel was in the hallway, going through rooms to rooms, carrying a briefcase, trying to find what he's looking for. Finally, he opened the last two doors, he found what he was looking for.

A large fish tank that nearly took the entire room space with a mermaid and two merman swimming leisurely in it. They all looked over toward the entrance, expecting their human owners. To their surprise, it's someone else. Someone looks oddly familiar. As the figure walked closer toward the tank, their face lit up. It's Rafayel.

Rafayel climbed onto the tank, opened the top and spoken in a different language, "We have to be quiet. I'll get you out of here safe."

The Lumerians nodded. Rafayel tossed three bottles into the tank. "Drink this, it'll turn you into a human temporary until I can take you all safety to the sea."

The Lumerians hesitated before drinking. Immedietly, theirs fins disappeared, their tails slowly turned to limbs. Rafayel grabbed the nearest Lumerian and pulled them up the tank and onto the ground. He did the same to the other two. Rafayel then opened his briefcase and handed the Lumerians clothes.

"Wear this and we get out now."

Rafayel slowly opened the door, looked left and right, because gesturing the Lumerians to follow him. He led them down the stairs and out the floor leveled window.

"Rafayel?" One whispered. "Will they find us?"

Rafayel shook his head. "She would've already dealt with them. I'll protect you all."

The Lumerians looked at each other, wondering who "she" was. As they walk, the sea slowly comes into view. A small boat on the shore, rocking back and forth. There was already someone on the shore, by the boat. As they got closer, they saw the person had splatters of blood on their clothes.

"Rafayel?" A female's voice called and the figure turned around. The Lumerian gasped and hid behind Rafayel.

They were expecting Rafayel to jump into action but he just smiled, "You made it back!"

The female nodded, "You were right. Going for Anderson is a good idea."

Rafayel beamed and walked toward her when she started to back away, "I'm dirty right now. Take them away quickly before the police arrive."

Rafayel nodded and led the Lumerians onto the boat and then himself. The female walked closer to the boat. They can see her face more clearly and she seemed... familiar.

"Be careful, Rafayel." She whispered. "And come back to me."

Rafayel leaned forward and pecked her on the forehead. She leaned toward the touch. "I will. You be careful too. Leave quickly before they find you."

She nodded and pushed the boat away.

Rafayel watches the shore as the boat rocks away from the shore. The female figure watched before she walked away. The figure slowly turns into a silhouette and then disappears.

The Lumerians all looked at Rafayel. "Is she..." One asked.

Rafayel nodded.

It's all the confirmation they needed. The bride of the Sea God is there to protect them as well.

I walked toward the tavern I always go to in the mornings.

"Grab the latest news! Two families dead!" A little boy waving a piece of newspaper. "They found new leads! Someone saw the person who killed those families! They put a bounty on his head!"

I paused. Did Rafayel get caught? I quickly grabbed a newspaper and gave the boy a coin. "Thanks, madam!"

I read through the newspaper:

An eyewitness in the scene when the killer killed both Moore and Anderson family in the same room. The eyewitness said the killer was a man and managed to kill seven people in the room in less than a minute. A bounty is placed on this killer. 3 thousand. Anyone with any leads please come forward. Police were baffled as to how a single man could kill so many in such a short amount of time. They suspect that there is a group of people in a cult.

A picture of a hand-drawn art of the so-called killer, a hood covering his hair, and a face covered with a cloth. Only the eyes are visible. A ridiculous picture to go off with.

I sighed a sigh of relief, glad to know that Rafayel was safe.

"What is this picture? There's only his eyes visible! At this point, people will turn in anyone just to get the price!" I agree.

"Killed seven people in less than a minute? Are you sure it's a human?"

"I'm telling you! It's the curse! It's the Siren's curse!"

I flipped through the pages to check out the other pages.

Many families had been refusing to purchase Lumierans and poachers are now refusing families to poach Lumerians, fearing that the Siren's curse might get them next.

I tossed the newspaper onto the ground and continued my way to the tavern.

Dividers, headers, banners, and templates used on this post are from @uzmacchiato

[smokescreenimusprime]

watched tf one the other night with my best friend and now I've been Re-Mental Illnessed, here's some Rescue Bot Smokescreen Rot I rotated while driving home :]

I think I've finally hammered out some more details of Inside Job and this is what I came up with:

like canon it starts with the Omega Keys. Specifically when Bulkhead gets attacked and knocked unconscious when looking for one

And against direct orders, Smokescreen leaves the base to go get him

there were a bunch of reasons why he did what he did. A desire to prove his capability as an EMT. He wants to be a field medic like Ratchet is, he wants to be able to do more than just wait for them to come back injured when the more time that passes the more dangerous it could be. There was also the fear of losing anyone else, especially so soon after he befriended Bulkhead. It's barely been a few days since they started getting along, and the loss of the entire Rescue Bot Force is still raw

so he goes, and finds Bulkhead unconscious and alone in the woods, with the only injury being some scratches and a blow to the back of the helm. Smokescreen doesn't have a scratch on him as they hobble back to base

it doesn't stop Ratchet's anger

Now, don't get me wrong, Ratchet is angry because he was scared. Smokescreen could've been in very real danger. He didn't know what awaited him on the other side of that portal. For all they knew, the Decepticon soldiers could've still been there, and they could've lost the last Rescue Bot in existence

but unfortunately, he says all this when still angry

and Smokescreen, as thick as his skin is from experiencing years of discrimination, is genuinely hurt by it. This isn't just a fellow medic or instructor yelling at him, this is his idol berating him for what he thought was the right thing to do

this is his idol unknowingly repeating the words that followed him all throughout his training and that he sought to prove wrong, and he has no idea how to respond

so he runs. He drives as fast and far away as he can, shuts off his comm because he just. Can't right now. He can't interact with them right now because frankly he doesn't trust himself to speak and not say something he would regret to his dying days

and unknowingly this puts him right in the Decepticon's claws

some aspects of his capture stay the same. He wakes up in the medbay strapped to a table, the Omega Key is extracted, and he is placed under the cortical psychic patch

but the differences happen in the details

His restraints are barely more than a pair of manacles that he could've probably figured out how to escape if given enough time. The Omega Key was removed before he even woke up, the incisions of surgery fresh on his frame but the work is well done with obvious care. With the patch, the mental prodding and information gathering is... oddly gentle and quick, doing barely more than verifying what the Keys are and Smokescreen's identity as a Rescue Bot before retreating

Smokescreen is not a warrior after all. He is a bot thought to be long since extinct who quite literally dropped out of the sky at their feet without warning. He may have loyalty to the Autobots but... he's not fighting this war. Not really. He's just been doing what Rescue Bots do: helping those who need it.

The "cell" he's kept in, if it can even be called that, was an old now-dead officer's quarters. The door is locked and there are guards stationed inside watching him at all hours, but they are not cruel. He gets a healthy amount of rations regularly, and has even been given a data terminal to keep himself entertained (of course, no before Soundwave had thoroughly firewalled and restricted anything that could be used against them)

the most stressful part of his capture is when Megatron comes to visit. Every day without fail, he will come check in on how Smokescreen is doing. He will ask how he's doing and they talk. About Cybertron, about the war, about how accepting the Rescue Bots were, allowing any Cybertronian regardless of caste to join, how much of a tragedy it was for them to have been wiped out.

Smokescreen is not blind to how he attempts to sow seeds of doubt into the Autobots into him. About how cruel it was for them to keep him confined to the base, how cruel Trion was for implanting a relic without his knowledge, questions if Smokescreen truly wanted to help them or if that's just what they've pressured him into doing with false promises that crumble like glass

but instead of refuting him... Smokescreen decides to play along

after all, Megatron obviously sees him as a poor, innocent, helpless bot who could be swayed by some sweet words and a cage advertised as protection

and that facade would make it all the easier to escape when the time came :)

[lilangeldeath]

Diary #1 - my manifestation woes & solutions

honestly sort of making my own thing as far as how i manifest because a lot of people online either take goddard completely off the rails or are just saying a whole lot of nothing, going on for paragraphs but not really saying much. i have changed the way i manifest and the movement is so strong and fast. my old self was not fully understanding and was not fully accepting.

before, i was persisting and affirming but i didn't have as good of a self concept as i thought i did. the reason i wasn't getting manifestations in the way i wanted was because i deep down believed that those things just weren't possible for someone like me, for multiple reasons.

i didn't believe i was the operant power in a real way. i just kept saying it to myself. i kept getting confused as to why people were saying things like that i needed to completely detach from my desire and stop thinking about it. why would i desire or even try to manifest something i don't give a fuck about? that makes no sense.

now i see a different type of detachment, such as the sun. the sun rises every day, as it has my entire life, and everyone else's entire lives, and we don't think twice about it. we just know the sun will come up tomorrow. it's just the way things are, because of the way our very universe is structured. it is the same with detachment and being the operant power. show me where in any religious text it says god or the gods affirmed 10k times that there would be light. it just isn't about robotic repetition until you see results. you have to be in the state deep down instead of worrying about 5,000 methods and "breaking the rules", because there literally are no rules when god is in you.

i let my worries and stresses get the best of me because i truly believed that, no matter how hard i tried or what i did, it just wouldn't happen. or would be instantly ripped away the second i got a taste of my manifestation in the 3D. because that's what had happened my entire life. no matter what method i followed or how long i stayed in the fulfilled state, it just led to psychosis because the manifestation would never show up, or would show up perverted and twisted into an abomination, or would get millimeters away from me and then explode into nothing. like the bunnies in mona awad's novel, bunny. every plan, place, job, goal etc i wanted to achieve just fell apart no matter what i did. i followed literal hundreds of different people's different advice over a decade and it did nothing but make my life worse.

and that was because i was too busy trusting other people about how to manifest and what manifestation even is. i didn't even like the word manifestation because it just reminded me of manifest destiny: a "god given right" to terrorize and ruin millions of innocent lives and turn the earth into a stinking pit. which is coming soon, by the way. there's not much time left. no amount of manifesting is gonna save us from going extinct. sorry. there's not enough of us who actually care to save that.

now the reason i have been getting so much movement and so much more power is because i let go of all my hangups and doubts. i had to go through severe psychosis and almost ruined my entire life because i had to transform, my old self had tried hundreds of belief systems/religions/faiths/practices and nothing was working. that's when i realized the connection between all religions and faiths, that god is within us. sounds simple, goddard says it all the time. but i only understood it on a surface logic level. not on a deep level. because nothing ever worked out for me. i couldn't put full faith into something that i had 0 guarantee would ever work out for me.

i'm just supposed to believe a bunch of random people on the internet, who 99% of the time have no proof and no testimonials, who make a living off this type of content? of course they're going to sell me anything that makes my deep pain, hurt, loss, grief etc feel better.

honestly in my opinion most manifestation advice sounds like either 1. a way to grift people out of money

2. a way to trick people using psychological manipulation into no longer pursuing any of their desires, by tricking them into HAVING to work on themselves so that way when their desires never come, they didn't even care because they worked on their shit poor self esteem enough to give up on all previous desires, and keep doing this in a cycle until they just give up on manifestation entirely because they're so content in themselves they don't care to have any goals for it, a way to trick people into giving up with extra steps.

i want to write more about how i perceive the idea of creation, which i prefer more to manifestation, and how i perceive persisting, affirming, wavering, old story, new story, all of those trendy buzzwords that every creator says something WILDLY different about.

the amount of manifestation content online is so overwhelming and confusing, especially when so many content creators sell law of attraction as law of assumption, or vice versa, or mix them together, or misquote people, or make up whatever they feel like about it and expect other people to be able to get it, when they're really just sort of using word salad with buzzwords in it for views and attention.

i kind of want to create a guide or tips or something, but the truth is just because something works for me doesn't mean that's what will work for you. you are the god, you have to find out what works for you. if you like scripting, revising, sleep tapes, subliminals, whatever it is, doesn't mean other people will or vice versa.

i guess it will mostly be just me journaling about my ideas and sharing it, and if it helps others then that's great, and if it doesn't resonate with you then you don't have to care about it. it really is that simple.

[hybbat]

I am a die hard Harriet apologist despite all the annoyance btw. RDO does everything it can to try and make you hate her and generally the mechanics come off like it's mildly bitter it had to put her and the naturalist role in the game. But man, she's just a poor disrespected woman who is doing her best to research and advocate for animal conservation in a time and place where people killed entire herds of bison just to starve native americans, barely 40 years after the origin of species was even published. The game takes place the very years passenger pigeons, a bird that swarmed in such great numbers people killed tens of thousands at once only a few decades before, went completely extinct.

She hates killing animals at all, but she puts up with you killing a LOT even right in front of her before she finally loses her temper and actually punishes you by macing you and not talking to you for like an hour before she's completely willing to return to working with you and praise you. She doesn't go after hunters but explicitely poachers, she's not some crazy vegan she fully respects and understands that carnivores and the cycle of life are important, she has a problem with mass killing and trophy hunting, objectively harmful things that were absolutely rampant at the time.

And her fight isn't one sided, the poachers know about her and besides threatening her also literally keep track of her with the explicite intent to use her as a way to lure out rare wildlife that she does in fact have enough knowledge to find. Nevermind that most o the men around her instantly don't respect her simply for being an uppity woman regardless. Like of course Gus is more jovial and charismatic than her, he's a rich guy, he's a rich socialite who can spend his days trophy hunting. He doesn't even buy the meat from you. Meanwhile Harriet will pay full price for just a sample with no care for quality and all she asks is you don't murder wantonly.

Like she's not even crazy, the most you can say is that if she were in modern times she'd be misguided and ignorant. But she lives in a time where she's literally a pioneer of her field, all odds stacked against her by her gender and the culture, relying on the help of someone who as soon as she turns her back on them goes and kills 20 animald in 5 hours for a guy who presumably simply tosses everything but the hides. There's zero regulations about the things she complains about.

She sends you to kill criminals but so does everyone else, the only criminals you keep alive are the ones you do so to get a higher paycheque for turning them in alive, after killing 20 other men just to get to them. And they are explicitely criminals. They're catching bears and cougars alive to sell to circuses, they're not even fur traders.

Also every scientist was naming species after themselves back then so you can't even say she's egotistical for her plant.

[kay9leo]

WIP Tag Game

Rules: Share a snippet from whatever you’re currently working on, and then tag 5 people.

@myokk tagged me and seeing how I needed something to get me back into the writing world again after a hiatus, this seems like a good way to get back in 🤗

So while not a "true" WIP, it's an idea stuck in my head since in my original WIP (written and hidden in my computer files) of where Iñaki Martinez Cariaga (or MC) is used, I have Hogwarts Legacy take place in the late 2000s...but what if Iñaki's Ancient magic takes her back in time...to the year 1890? As a play on the name of a title of a famous Mark Twain book, I present a small snidget of an idea that's been flying circles in my head:

A New York Yankee in Hogwarts' Courtyard, 1890

Iñaki walked around Hogsmeade, trying to reconcile the past with the future wizarding village that she remembered before she was sent back in time over more than a hundred years ago.

Hogsmeade was still Hogsmeade with its quint shops, townhouses and stone ruins nearby its town entrance, but it was also different from how she remembered back in 2008.

For one, the MCC or the Muggleborn Cultural Center hasn't been made yet, a place where all muggleborns would go to get a taste of home away from home (even though it wasn't truly a taste of home for her, with her home being an ocean away in New York). Two, the Shrieking Shack building didn't exist yet and three, there was no Tim Howards Coffee Shops yet - the only American magical coffee shop chain that somehow made it across the pond.

If you think about it, I might be able to run into Tim Howards when he's still a baby in this time period. He doesn't become a famous Quidditch player until the 1920s. Iñaki frowned at that thought.

"So, what do you think? Is Hogsmeade up to your standing Yank?"

Iñaki blinked out of her thoughts and looked over to her right to see a brown haired boy, Sebastian Sallow giving her a confident smile despite the nervous look in his eyes. He was currently giving her the grand tour of the place. To her surprise, Sebastian wasn't the cocky boy he made himself out to be before the duel that he lost in DADA class. The entire walk, Sebastian was friendly, jolly and curious about her homelife back in America, never once meeting a Yankee. Soon that became her nickname when he saw how it made her smile as he asked questions to get to know about her a bit more.

It was hard to be tight lipped about her homeland. Especially as far as he and everyone but Professor Fig knew, she was just another girl from their era and out of her element because she was the new kid in a new country and NOT being stuck in the wrong time period. She had to be careful about what she said, to reveal little about the future as possible like Professor Fig and all those time traveling books and movies taught her before.

While she ran into some more recognizable names - Weasleys were a dime a dozens, Prewett was an extinct family name in her time period with their remaining line married into one of the Weasleys' family branches and Gaunt was the original family name of the founder of Ilvermorny- there were a few she didn't recognized.

Onai was one. So was Sweeting. And then there was Sallow.

Sebastian Sallow was a name that rang a small bell in her head, but she couldn't remember for what reason it was for as she smiled at its owner with a light smile as she pulled up a half lie.

"I think it's cute, like it's from a storybook. It reminds me of another wizarding village I visited in the past at home..." Or was it future? It didn't matter, it's in my past now... Iñaki thought with a small painful smile as she looked over the smaller village in this era.

"You really miss home, don't you Iñaki?" Sebastian said as he placed his hand on her shoulder. Iñaki looked up to him with a tight smile, fighting back tears that suddenly appeared in her eyes.

"Who me?" Iñaki chuckled, waving her hand off playfully as if she could physically fight off the emotional pains that came every time she thought about the new country she found herself in due to her dad's new job, the time period that she didn't belong to or the possible reality she might be stuck here for good and might never see her parents, family, friends or even her neighbor's pet dog ever again.

Heck, she might be in the history books of another country and her loved ones would never know what happened to her.

And if she let one tear escape, the whole dam would break and she wasn't certain if she would survive the floods of her emotional pain since she woke up in 1890 after accidentally tampering with a magical place she thought nothing of. It wasn't like it was a time turner. Just a bunch of standing stones that reminded her of Stonehenge that stood in up in a forest nearby Feldcroft that called to her for some reason when she was flying around, trying to free up her mind from the thoughts of being homesick.

She was really far from home this time around.

"Yes you. You seem to keep your distance from everyone you know? We don't bite." Sebastian smiled at her. "Take it from someone that had to move before, you'll find yourself fitting in sooner than later. Natty practically befriend you -"

True...Iñaki thought.

" -Ominis seems relaxed and happy to be around you since you met him your first night-"

It probably helps that my first thought of his surname that I told him was that one of his ancestors rejected her family's prejudicial pureblood beliefs and founded Ilvermorny and not of his infamous descendent that is Tim Riddler...or what ever his name was.

" -in the Slytherin Common Room-"

I was a Gryffindor in my time period.

"-and I do need a dueling partner in Crossed Wands." Sebastian winked at her. "Yeah." Her voice croaked. That's what it seemed it was good at doing since she moved to London for her Dad's work. "I-" She cleared her throat with a smile. "-I DO like dueling."

Dueling made it easy to forget, to not remember that she was no longer home. That there was no DeLorean or ruby heels she can tap together three times to bring her back to her time period, to her world.

It wasn't until the Troll fight she had with Sebastian that she thought, maybe she didn't need a time traveling car or magical red heels to go home. Not when she felt that same magical force that brought her to this time period flow out of her when she defeated -no vanquished- the troll.

If Ancient Magic brought me back to the past, I'm going to find a way to use it to get back to my own time with no problem. Iñaki thought with a smug smile as she helped repair the town back, unaware of the only flaw in her plan as Sebastian Sallow gathered her for a quick drink at the Three Broomsticks on him.

And never once did she notice the awe in his eyes as he looked at her or the growing heart he wore on his sleeve for her the longer she remained stuck in the past. She would have noticed it if she looked back, but the only flaw in that was this:

Iñaki was too busy looking forward to finally go back home, back to the future where she belonged.

No Pressure Tags: @theladyofshalott1989 @ps-cactus and whoever sees this and is interested in writing as well/needs a small push to return to the writing world 😁

Thank you @myokk for tagging me and helping me to slowly return to the writing world for a bit after the hiatus I took💖🥰💖