#that's a wrap!

[fizpup]

artfight weeks #2-4 (never as productive as week 1 lol)

deer pony belongs to @amebaby

pegasus belongs to @sharkteethies

alicorn/draconequus belongs to @riss-mlp

cow belongs to @plushcowz

[everylevishot]

Levi #2180

Chapter 139.5 - 悪童 (Bad Boy)

From that day on, I vowed to never hold a cup by the handle again.

I'm so sorry I made fun of the way you held your cup, Captain! I vow to never use the handle either! Never again!

Cut it out.

Here come the tears.

I said cut it out!

[yosukezine]

We've raised a total of $2887 for charity with your help! Thank you so much for your support and donations 🙇

Check out our Finance Sheet here

Summary: Physical sales: $971 (rounded up to $1000) Company Match: $1000 Direct Donations: $887

With that, the Yosuke Hanamura zine project is official done! 🌻 A huge thank you to all our contributors and mods, and to the Persona community as well ❤️

[nothingbutnowhere]

Hockey Player AU! Captain John Price Headcanons

...

Center. Long time captain (obv.), long suffering captain. 1000+ games. Someone get this man a cup already ffs. Defensive offenseman; has like three Selke trophies.

Not a big goal scorer, under reactive cellies, does the stand and point at whoever was the assist. But he does tally a few good assists per year and his cellies for his boys are intense. A little slower these days but will not back down from a crushing hit or dropping the gloves when he makes the occasion call for it. MEAN slapshot.

Leads by example... which... can lead to some crowded penalty boxes- you do NOT cheap shot these guys. They can and will drop the gloves. Price holds his team to the same standards and isn't afraid to enforce it internally. He'll drag Soap out of a pile as many times as he needs to. They play hard and physical, but clean.

Similarly, he wants to hold the league to high standards as well. If he feels there's been too many bad calls by the refs he's ready to cut a check to the league for scalding criticism post game.

Loves his boys so much. Always yelling encouragement on the bench. Would and has run through a wall for them. Physically affectionate. Known to give a little kiss on the cheek during cellies or on the bench 🥹 Gif sets of those are very popular. We love to see it.

He's a hockey veteran though and though, made some deep playoff runs, knows his shit, knows they can win a cup.

His team may be down but they are never out. Do not turn off the game, do not leave the stadium early, because you will regret it. Price will lead the team though the most nail biting comeback you've ever seen. He's fully taken the clipboard from the assistant coach to draw up plays before and it WORKS. Down three with three minutes left? One goal per minute, easy (this is, in fact, not easy).

Gaz is set to be his predecessor for captain. Price could not be more happy about it; he took Gaz under his wing the second he was drafted. Even though their play styles aren't the same, Gaz learns a lot from Price's leadership skills.

The kids think he's trendy with the 'bucket hat'... has to explain it's not.

Not a media favorite. He doesn't use the stock hockey responses and is a little too real. Has accidentally sworn multiple times live on air :( Used to avoid interviews and pressers when he was younger, but once he took on leadership roles he had to make peace with it. He gets asked the 'why are you so pissy' comment that Drai did a couple years ago. Reporter got a death glare for that.

Yet a fan favorite. We can't help it he's so handsome!! Competency is hot!! He's loyal and passionate! What's not to love about him!

Locker room menace- walks around naked and does not give a fuck. Much to the chagrin of the media. (Pls one shot of his ass just one please we're begging you)

Hockey hair status: yes with his facial hair. Keeps the chops shorter during the regular season, but lets it all grow for the playoffs

Roster pic status: he's giving that one face. His promo videos are also 😵‍💫

Mic'd up: he'll do it and knows people like his voice (for some reason?) but he doesn't prefer it

WAG status: has been with the same women for years and years. She enjoys games with the other girls, but doesn't party as much as she used to. His family was SO cute at his 1000th game ceremony 🥹 

His number WILL be retired one day and I WILL cry at the ceremony.

After retirement will stick around to coach, probably after taking a few years off to be with his family.

...

I do NOT consent for my works, part of my works, or my ideas to be used for ANY form of AI.

Note: WAG stands for wife and girlfriend or the plural, used to refer to sports guy's significant others. Yes it is heteronormative. (Read as self insert if you so desire). Hockey Price is somewhat based on my previous fav (now retired) player Mikko Koivu.

More hockey au: Ghost | Soap | Gaz

[merlin-bdsm-fest]

Merlin BDSM Fest 2024 Masterpost

And that's a wrap! Thank you to all of you who created, re blogged, encouraged our creators during this fest!

Here is a list of works that were created during the fest.

Week 1: Bondage

Created by mossmx - untitled Gwaine/Others, implied Percival/Gwaine, fanart - rope bondage, gag, comeplay

(during week 3) - Created by Laevateinn - Party Hard (chapter 5) Morgana/Mithian, 300 and moodboard - modern AU, dom!Morgana, shibari (more on AO3)

Week 2: Punishment

Created by insane_falcon - let the punishment fit the crime Merthur, 1.4k - Creator choose not to use archive warnings

Created by mossmx - untitled Percival/Gwaine/Elyan, fanart - hair shaving, blow job, size kink

Created by Anonymous - In Practice - Gwaine/Merlin, 9.6k - Modern AU, PWP, Light BDSM, Spanking (more on AO3)

Week 3 : Your own prompt

Created by Papysanzo89, s0mmerspr0ssen - Urges Merthur, 12.3k and fanart - modern AU, BDSM AU, dom!Merlin, sub!Arthur, consent issues (more on AO3)

Created by Papysanzo89, s0mmerspr0ssen - Limits Merthur, 8.2k and fanart - modern AU, BDSM AU, dom!Merlin, sub!Arthur, consent issues (more on AO3)

Created by Papysanzo89, s0mmerspr0ssen - Tie Merthur, comic - modern AU, BDSM AU, dom!Merlin, sub!Arthur, consent issues (more on AO3)

Created by Papysanzo89, s0mmerspr0ssen - Ghosts Merthur, past Freya/Merlin, 4.7 k and fanart - modern AU, BDSM AU, dom!Merlin, sub!Arthur, consent issues (more on AO3)

Created by Papysanzo89, s0mmerspr0ssen - Reassessment Merthur, 4k and fanart - modern AU, BDSM AU, dom!Merlin, sub!Arthur, consent issues (more on AO3)

Created by ravenwilds - The Deprivation of the Viscount Merthur, 3.1k - Victorian AU, historical AU, dom!Merlin, sub!Arthur, orgasm denial

Created by Papysanzo89, s0mmerspr0ssen - Working Hard Merthur, comic - modern AU, BDSM AU, dom!Merlin, sub!Arthur, consent issues (more on AO3)

Created by Papysanzo89, s0mmerspr0ssen - Home Merthur, 10.5k and fanart - modern AU, BDSM AU, dom!Merlin, sub!Arthur, consent issues (more on AO3)

Created by Excited_Insomniac - The Boy from Wales Merthur, 5.5k - modern AU, School AU, Blow job (more on AO3)

[mmorpg-escapism]

Well, I was right. The credits are rolling. The sun is rising over Living Memory, finally. I still have questions but I imagine we'll get some of them answered in the 7.x patches.

Lots of little reveals here. Bakool Ja Ja survived the invasion and joined the Landsguard. WoL gets to keep the key. Gulool Ja gets introduced to Everkeep's people, right after the news is broken that Sphene is dead.

(Per the credits here, Otis' VA is not the same as Hien's as I mused earlier. Just me hearing things...)

Ah we don't get to participate (in quests) in the 3 day party? Rats.

I like the references to the trailer that are going on in this scene. It's great.

I also like that they left some things open to the post Dawntrail stuff. It's gonna take me a while and probably a review of my own liveblog to figure out what the questions I have are. And I'll probably post a true summary of my thoughts at some point...

And I'll definitely pick this back up for the post-DT patches. I think my next stop is going to be dragging all my job levels up to 100, though... I still have to learn PCT!

[lynne-monstr]

I finished the meet you at the blossom show. thoughts and spoilers below the cut

it was a short and fun ride, I liked it. I don't think it was good but it was fun and tbh that's what I care more about. I would have liked a tighter storyline because things seemed to happen just to drive the plot of the moment and didn't really have wider implications to the world at large.

like the jin parents doing the backstory murder but they're still portrayed as good, caring people. the murder ends up holding no real significance and no one seems upset about it.

or huai'en being portrayed as not even a close match to his father's martial arts but he keeps confronting him head on. dude if he can beat you in one move, maybe try something different.

I would have liked huai'en's personality in the middle part of the drama to be a bit more than pathetically begging for forgiveness. but also it was pretty hilarious. in a longer drama I would have been more annoyed but mostly I was highly amused by his patheticness.

loved the childhood friends gay subplot with jinbao lol. if I I'm going to be picky I would have liked more moments of them being sweet with each other in private.

I loved loved loved huai'en's two personal guards. me chanting: loyalty kink, loyalty kink. I want ten million words of fic about them.

xiaobao was super adorable in every single scene I love him lots!

I saw a lot of people not liking the noncon-heavy romance tropes, and I get it. but also I've seen these tropes so often that my brain kind of glosses over it. it doesn't really bother me. I think we deserve five hundred cnc fics.

the ending. I liked it! it was cute and I love a found family. I didn't think it needed a wedding. and in fact I'd rather end on cute silly domestic romance than a wedding because it feels more intimate.

my one biggest gripe was: could we not have given huai'en ONE important fight that he got to win!? in every single fight he was either outnumbered or facing his dad. pls show, let him win a fight. he deserves it. I deserve it.

anyway tl;dr the blossom show was cute and fun!

[aurevell]

The Only Thing Left Sterek | 13k | T

“You don’t need air,” Stiles echoes. “You swim. That doesn’t tell me much. What are you?” Derek stares. He slowly lifts his shoulders and drops them back into the water. Or, Stiles meets a stranger at the spring outside of town.

Read on AO3 (or check out the beginning below)

The town grows less forgiving near its borders. Meaner, Stiles thinks, and uglier too. Once you’re too far from the main streets, the paved asphalt road fractures into rough gravel shot through with weeds. 

To one side of it, the ground slopes into a trash-choked ditch. Supposedly, it used to irrigate crops back before he was born, but that farmland is all overgrown now, the grass and wild shrubs almost hip-height, peppered here and there with the kind of refuse that takes real effort to move. Stiles sometimes likes to imagine how it all must have gotten there: shame-faced strangers lugging their mattress through the mud. Sneaking like thieves in the night to set down the old tires that now shelter stray cats.

And then, wedged right in the middle of the grime and gravel and mud, there’s a patch of dark woods that looks totally untouched. Like no one ever thought to use it or trash it, like everyone quietly agreed to leave it alone.

From the road, the tops of the towering pines whisper in the wind. A glint of silver through their crooked trunks turns out to be a wide spring of green water once you get close enough to see, mirror-smooth and shining. The woods are probably just a few acres in all, large enough to walk the perimeter of the spring in a quarter-hour at a leisurely clip, but not large enough to get lost in them. There are small signs of civilization, sure: some sort of barred drain as you leave the road, the weathered yellow sign warning of drowning risks, the hint of an old wooden structure through the far-off leaves. Otherwise, Stiles can almost pretend he’s in a pristine forest somewhere, the trees ancient and foreign and wild.

He likes to do that, sometimes. Pretend to be somewhere else, pretend this is one tiny touch of magic left in his world, its last remaining thumbprint. It’s nicer than the alternative.

When his mom was alive, she used to believe in that sort of thing. Old magic, she called it. She said that it lingered in some places. That humans had pushed it away little by little, maybe, and there was no room for it anymore except in little pockets you might stumble across by mistake. (When his dad was alive, he used to laugh and say that if magic were real, it was already spent up in things like batteries and planes and computers, because who knew how any of that worked?)

If there’s a magic to these trees or still waters, it must have something to do with how calm Stiles feels when he sits under the trees that stretch their branches over the spring, a calm he rarely otherwise feels. The edge of the water is a deep green ring, teeming here and there with rushes and duckweed. Water lilies too, red as a flare. In the middle of the spring, the water darkens almost to black as the ground slopes steeply out of sight. 

On the surface, the spring is always cool and placid. But that’s deceptive, Stiles knows. Still waters run deep. 

“Hello,” someone says, quiet, and Stiles startles and whips around. 

He’s perched on the bank of the spring, his back against a tree, and he should’ve heard someone stepping through the woods around him. The area is so rarely traveled that he wasn’t anticipating anyone else. But the voice, unexpectedly near, hasn’t come from the trees at all. 

It’s come from the water. Just a few yards away is a man swimming in the spring, only his head and shoulders visible in the green. He must have entered the water somewhere else, swimming in this direction while Stiles was glowering off in the distance. The banks of the spring curve out of sight to one side, dipping into the trees and then back around further off.

“God, you scared me,” Stiles says vehemently. A relieved laugh bubbles up from him after the shock. “Where did you even come from, dude? Isn’t it kind of cold out to be swimming?”

The swimmer barely moves as he treads. “The water.” The words are again quiet, but the still water carries the sound. His voice rasps, as if he hasn’t spoken all day. 

He’s a little older than Stiles, with dark hair plastered to his forehead. He’s markedly handsome, with serious features: his full lips are unsmiling, his strong jaw clenched. The dark water is barely clear enough where he treads to make out a pair of muscled arms sweeping back and forth with slow glace. Even from this far away, his light eyes seem to dance green along with the ripples. 

“You come here often,” the man adds. 

It doesn’t sound like a question, but Stiles answers it like it is. “Yeah, I guess I do. Nice out here.”

“You’re alone.”

Stiles hesitates for a moment, though the answer must be obvious. It’s a weird thing for a stranger to ask someone they just met in the middle of nowhere, especially a stranger who stares as baldly as this one does, but it’s not like the guy has moved to approach. He’s not threatening. He just waits through the pause, letting Stiles respond in his own time.

“Yeah,” Stiles says at last. “You?”

The man’s mouth twists, dissatisfied. “Always.”

This whole thing feels weird, Stiles thinks, this mystery guy. He tries to steer them toward even ground, neutral conversation. “So, uh, you’re not from around here, are you? Did you just come to check out the spring or something?”

“I live here.”

Stiles blinks in surprise. “Really? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in town before.” No, he knows he hasn’t. He’d remember a guy who looks like this. He frowns, adding, “And, what, you know about this place and you come out here to swim anyway? The water’s gotta be freezing.”

“I like the water.”

Which, sure, that isn’t so unusual on paper. Deepwater Well turns into a popular hangout in the summer, and it’s a lure year-round for the local high schoolers who occasionally come to party on the shores. But it doesn’t change the fact that there aren’t that many swimmers, because those brave enough to enter the spring’s waters sometimes end up drowned. Sometimes worse. 

A handful of people have even disappeared from the area over the past few decades, making headlines statewide after searchers found nothing in the woods or water. Something to do with the way the spring connects to underground aquifers, the rumors say, or maybe some sort of current that drags you further down. It’s a karstic spring, full of deep shafts and narrow caverns that have never been fully mapped, and there’s no telling where you’d end up if you sank all the way to the bottom.

That’s probably why the nut jobs come out of the woodwork to talk about it online sometimes, joking about rare cryptids. And why there are conspiracy theories galore from every flavor of armchair detective imaginable. Stiles included. He has a morbid affinity for that sort of research, a shameless interest in the details of disappearances and cold cases, and this place always used to mystify him because it’s right in his backyard. But the internet holds few answers, even for him.

If this guy lives around here, he must know all of that, and yet he’s decided to swim anyway. Dumb decision, but who’s Stiles to judge. Maybe he’s one of those weird thrill-seeking, adventure-type people.

“Sure. It figures. Because of, you know.” Stiles makes a vague gesture at the guy, though he’s thinking in particular of those toned arms. “You, uh, just look like it.”

“Do you swim?”

“Yeah, in the summer. And in a pool. It’s kind of cold for it now.”

“It’s not cold once you’re in the water.”

“Sounds like what some crazy swimming enthusiast would say,” Stiles jokes. Even the thought of getting in the water makes him pull his hoodie a little tighter around himself. It’s not particularly cold today, but the breeze always makes the crisp fall air sting his skin. “That’s a sure-fire recipe for hypothermia. I’m too fragile for that. All skin and bones.”

It’s hard to be sure, but Stiles thinks the man’s lips twitch at that.

“What’s your name?” Stiles demands.

This time, it’s the man who pauses. It’s long enough that Stiles’s eyebrows begin to rise. “Derek.”

Stiles huffs out an incredulous laugh. “Why’d you have to think so hard about it?”

“Long time since I used it. The name.”

“You don’t get out much?”

Derek grunts. “No. What is your name?”

“Oh, yeah. Stiles.”

“Stiles,” Derek says slowly, stretching it out like he’s testing out the word.

“Are you at the community college?” Stiles wonders, still trying to feel Derek out. Gauge his age. “Or do you work?”

“Used to,” Derek says gruffly.

Stiles waits but, he doesn’t offer anything more. Which is fair, Stiles figures, because maybe he doesn’t want to talk about it with a stranger. And Stiles doesn’t like people prying into why he’s not in school. But still. “Really playing the man of mystery angle, are we?”

“Where do you come from?”

“Town.” When Derek just stares at him blankly, Stiles jerks his thumb back toward the road. 

“What is it like there?”

“In…Beacon Hills?” Stiles asks, incredulous. “You’re not really from around here, are you?”

Derek just grunts again. “I have not seen it.”

This guy, Stiles thinks. What the fuck? 

Read the rest on AO3

[sagacious-moo]

THE GIRLBOSS SEA SHANTY FROM NORWAY IS THROUGH! LET’S GOOOOO!!

[carnation-damnation]

Terios Logging Off!

It's been nice!!! But it's time to give this blog back... Goodbye!!! ^_^ ( ´･･)ﾉ(._.`)o(*￣▽￣*)ブ

[owltrifecta]

thaumatology. In another world, Lottie and Van build a community together after the rescue. It starts in peace and ends in violence. Lottievan and taivan, 12k words in total, rated M. The finale.

In the Wilderness, there were few things more dangerous than a cornered Yellowjacket.

[just-here-with-my-thoughts]

Day 29: Not Allowed To Die

@febuwhump prompt: Not Allowed To Die

Fandom: The Bad Batch Characters: Tech Set during S2:E16 - 'Plan 99', carries directly on from Day 27: Left For Dead Word Count: ~440 Click here to read on AO3

Synopsis: Tech still has a mission to complete

The cleanup team dropped from their shuttle near the site of the crashed rail-car. Bins and crates were readied and the debris loaded into them – vast, twisted chunks of metal were cut down to fit into the retrieval transport, whilst anything recyclable was reclaimed from the scattered destruction in the ravine’s base.

One TK trooper raised a hand to his helmet, putting a call out on the com.

“Wasn’t there supposed to be a body here too?”

Several heads turned, looking around. One of his companions shrugged.

“Probably got dragged off by scavengers.”

“Should we look for him?”

“Nah. If they took him in the night, there’ll be nothing left to find now. Makes our job easier, anyhow.”

The first trooper stood and looked thoughtfully at the rocks at his feet, smeared with erratic drag-marks of blood.

“You sure?”

“Forget about it. Help me get the rest of this piece.”

*

From a hidden crevasse, aching eyes watched the blur of industry below. Everything was distant, soft focus. Colour stood out more than shape, smudges of white hauling smudges of grey against an indeterminate background.

Tech held his position and prayed he would not be found.

A distant part of his mind whirred as it catalogued injuries with detached interest. A more immediate, pressing part, knew that as soon as these TK troops were gone and he could risk making noise once more, he needed to finish patching himself up.

He glanced down at his legs, observing once more that despite the catastrophic bone breakages, it hurt less than the fracture on Serenno.

That would be the shock, said a quiet voice in his mind. It might have sounded like his brothers. It might have sounded like Phee.

He closed his eyes. Opened them. Night had fallen. The crash-site was abandoned.

You’re dying, came the wordless, faceless thought, although somehow it still carried the internal voice from earlier.

No, he thought, and that sounded like himself. Firm, analytical, uncompromising. No time for that. There was too much to do.

They hadn’t found Crosshair. Hadn’t managed to track Hemlock to wherever he was being held.

There was still a mission to complete. And Clone Force 99 had a 100% success rate. He wasn’t about to let that slip.

You’re dying. The thought was insistent, pervasive.

No, he refuted it again in his mind. I have to make it back to the others.

Slowly, Tech took stock of his body. His injuries were extensive. Someone had said he was too far gone… who was that?

Didn’t matter. He wasn’t allowed to die. Not until he’d finished the mission. Not until he’d found his brother.

[apnourry]

how the FUCK do I write about this fake lady's heterotopic ossification fucking riddle me that batman

[lavenoon]

Early AM Radio, Mariana

I got so many trinkets!! Look at me with all my rocks (and flower)!! Also same warning for you as for Steve - my music taste sure is something and you'll find out <3

[hisakikiweek]

HisaKiki Week 2023: Day 7 Compilation

Prompts: Married Couple | Pillow Talk | Getting Back Together AU

Edit Yes or No by @airahscorner Fic A Late Night Challenge by @randowwriter

Audience Challenge Hopes for HisaKiki by @soya-ix

Past compilations: Day 1 | Day 2 | Day 3 | Day 4 | Day 5 | Day 6

[heartofspells]

Wasteland - Chapter 13

It's like staring at rippling water as the last dying rays of sunlight leave the world, everything turned brown, melting rust coating the surface, rustic cedar tossed into a flame, popping and crackling like music that lulls, soothing away former woes and all the agonies a lifetime can hold with broken fingers clinging desperately to fleeting beauty. After days spent at the mercy of something far colder, Sirius wants to drown himself in it, feel that warmth he's lacked. He needs to dive and sink.

He can't. He won't.

"What the fuck do you want?" he practically spits, a sneer coating his face, forcing himself to take a step backwards instead of forwards.

Those brown eyes regard him with a quiet reservation, dropping to Sirius' neck, locking onto it and the bruises he's no longer hiding, having forgotten in his shock, not that it matters. Let him look, let him see. Remus isn't the only one who can take and claim, and Sirius doesn't belong to him.

"I came to apologize," comes his soft voice after a long stretch of silent study, gaze lifting to Sirius' face again, taking in his cracked mouth, the dark smudges beneath his eyes, the red smears painting sections of his forehead and one cheek that won't fade for at least another day, skin rubbed raw and angry. "I've been searching for you for days. I even lurked outside the Potters', but I never saw you."

"I've been busy," grinds out Sirius through gritted teeth.

Keep reading on AO3

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