#the wolf among us imagine

[elaboratedbee]

Personalised Bigby Shorts!

Hi guys!

I know I haven’t been active on this account for a while, I’ve been really busy with life as a student. But… I really want to buy my girlfriend flowers!!

I wanted to make a post to gage interest in personalised/custom Bigby fics like Bigby x Readers, or personalised to you specifically (e.g your name, description, etc). You would be able to request specific plots or types of fic or request a complete surprise! I’m sure you get the idea, and they would be very flexible.

Would there be any interest if I wanted to sell these? I would probably charge between $3-5 :)

Please message me to enquire and get more details or ask questions, there’s no pressure and it’s super flexible, so don’t be shy :)

[multi-fandom-imagine]

Bigby strikes me as the type of guy who says he doesn't want kids cause he doesnt want people hating them like they hate him, but deep down, he wants a whole slew of them. Like he'll deny it any time the topic comes up, but the moment you tell him you're pregnant, he is already picking names and paint colors for the nursery.

A/n: YESSS! I'm sobbing because that's so cute.

Bigby sensing you are pregnant, he can smell it on you but doesn't believe it because he does not want to give himself hope.

Never leaving your side, Bigby doesn't want to leave your side. He find's himself acting as your protector, like hell he's going to let anyone touch you.

Get's an actual up in New York, sure it cost's a bit more money but you're worth it. His children are wort it. Bigby knew living in the tiny apartment isn't good, isn't safe for you or his children.

Already buying everything you need the moment you tell him. Bigby does his best to contain his enthusiasm as he takes care of the nursery.

Bigby love's to go over names with you, can't help but tear up knowing you'd agree to have his mother's name in the mix.

Bigby love's to hold as you, placing his hand on your belly as it grows, he is constantly fussing over you.

Bigby loves to spoil you rotten, you deserve it. You deserve the moon. He just cannot wait to meet his children.

[ladyantiheroine]

TellTale Games should make dating sim games. Story-rich dating sim games. I think they'd be good at it.

[hungrydogs-if]

god i want to start using blender again. i miss 3d modeling. the frustration. the heart palpitations when everything rigs correctly. the tears when it all goes to hell again. it makes my heart happy.

if i had the time, patience, and means i swear i'd make this game something rivaling a proper triple-a title but my potato of a laptop barely runs twine lmao. maybe some day.

well, stray thoughts aside, all the flashbacks are now complete and i am rewarding myself with some daydreaming. next up is going through a massive haul of variations supposed to take place, and different branching (counted at least 7 variations on one choice alone, jesus), but after that it should get easier.

[mystiika]

kaede tag drop

[headspace-hotel]

i would love to enjoy Creature worldbuilding but I always get hung up in how the Iconic Creature, the large, charismatic, often predator-type beast with a backbone and legs and all that, is such an Egregiously Huge Anomaly in creaturedom, an Outlier in a world of nematodes, springtails, beetles, and nondescript fossorial mammals

It's not that I need realistic nematode biodiversity in my reading. It's just that humans are megafauna, but we don't realize that we are megafauna, and worldbuilders are unimpressed with anything smaller than a fox, even though a fox is absolutely vast in the grand scheme of things...

...and fantasy worlds are populated with Gigantic Creatures, hypercarnivores the size of a usual land megaherbivore in real life, because of the undeniable badassery of riding a giant wolf into battle or whatever. But I can't help but think: where is the rest? Y'all know that the tigers and wolves of the world are the tenuously small tip of a pyramid of animal biomass, right? That the large herbivores they prey upon are in turn a pebble perched atop the summit of a mountain, made of the frogs, snakes, rodents, bats, and little birds that are incomprehensibly more numerous, and yet in turn are insignificant compared with the bugs, worms, snails, and slugs, let alone the microorganisms that render us all a mere smudge on the lens of deep time?

A deer, a human...we are gods among life-forms, worlds in ourselves inhabited by our own creatures. Disgust towards parasites is of course an instinctive reaction created by evolutionary pressures, but just think! animals vast enough to be inhabited by their own macroscopic animals! Imagine being a worm in the belly of a deer, unable to survive outside it any more than a human can survive in the vacuum of space, unable perhaps to comprehend that anything exists outside of the body of your god.

Imagine being a tardigrade frolicking in a pasture of algae and moss, unable to understand that this meadow exists on the branch of an enormous tree, and that this tree is itself only a single tree in a forest of millions, that when viewed from above resemble a lush carpet much like the moss. Imagine being a centipede in the permanent darkness of a deep underground cave, unable to know or imagine that there are other caves, that even though you and a hundred thousand generations of your ancestors have been confined to this single cave, that thousands of other caves exist, and that beyond these caves there is a world so much bigger you cannot possibly understand it, a world that stretches farther than you could see or travel in a thousand lifetimes, a world with no ceiling.

Imagine being removed from the cave! You learn that you ancestors came from this infinite place beyond the cave, that your relatives inhabit every part of it, that your family is more numerous than you could ever learn to count!

...what was I talking about again?...

[captainmalewriter]

Miss Pigwin's Journal

Among the myriad of stereotypes surrounding gay men, Ivan never really fit into any of them. He was never the flamboyant queen nor the circuit party gay. Ivan always considered himself to be more of a lone wolf type. Although many would find the life of a social hermit boring and exhausting, Ivan truly didn’t mind his quiet, solitary lifestyle. Just class, work, gym, rinse and repeat. It was a simple routine, but it was one that Ivan loved. 

One evening, after his engineering classes, Ivan made a quick pit stop at the local store before heading back to his apartment. He needed to buy a new journal after he had filled out the last page the night before. Journaling was a hobby that Ivan took very seriously. For the past five or so years, Ivan would take 10 minutes every night to write his complete, unfiltered thoughts in his journal before bed. It was a therapeutic practice for Ivan, and he did not plan to stop anytime soon. 

Ivan was hoping to find a stylish yet relatively cheap journal but was quickly met with disappointment instead as he made his way down the stationary aisle. The store had completely run out of notebooks! A nearby employee told Ivan that the overnight crew would restock the store and that he should return the next day, but he was too determined to give up after having gone through the trouble of walking to the store. He scoured the store until he finally found one misplaced notebook, although its gaudy design left much to be desired…

It was a bright pink journal with glimmering sequins and came with a large bundle of pink ribbon. The journal had an ugly cartoon drawing of a pig in a princess dress along with her name ‘Miss Pigwin’ written in glitter across the top of the cover page. Ivan pulled out his phone and did a quick internet search to find out more about the Miss Pigwin notebook. Apparently, it was limited edition merchandise for some obscure children’s cartoon that never made it past 5 episodes. The idea behind Miss Pigwin was that kids could better understand their pets by helping them communicate with them. Kids were tie a piece of ribbon around an animal, and with Miss Pigwin's help, they would become their best friends. At least that was what the old advertisements promised anyway.

Obviously, the designers meant it to be used for pets like dogs and cats, so it was no wonder the pink journal was quickly discontinued after kids tried to tie ribbons around dangerous, wild animals instead. All in all, it was just cheap scraps of overly decorated paper for imaginative little girls. 

Ivan didn’t care much for the girly pink notebook. However, it was still a notebook at the end of the day, and the $5 price tag was too enticing to give up. He bought it and promptly returned to his apartment where his roommate Jesse was hosting a few of his frat friends over for beer pong. 

Ivan and Jesse were not friends but they were civil enough as roommates. Jesse wasn’t officially a part of a frat yet, but he already had the wild personality of a frat brother anyway. Jesse’s constant partying and drinking was annoying to Ivan, so he often made himself scarce—  as he did that night. He went about his usual nighttime routine and thankfully, by the time he sat down at his desk to journal, all of Jesse’s guests were gone. But just before he could touch pen to paper, Jesse came stumbling into the room.

“Hey, bro, you got any ribbon or string by any chance?” Jesse asked. Ivan hesitated saying yes right away.

“Maybe, what for?” 

“There’s this stupid Tiktok trend going on right now. Dudes are tying a piece of ribbon around their bicep and flexing until it breaks. The bros are saying I need to do every trend I see if I wanna continue rushing.”

“Cool, makes sense. Here, you can have it all. I don’t need it.”

Ivan took the bundle of ribbon that came with the Miss Pigwin journal and helped Jesse tie a piece around his bicep. Although Ivan did not like Jesse in that way, he couldn’t help but feel a little bit excited as he wrapped the ribbon around his straight roommate’s muscular arm. It was probably the only time he’d be that close to Jesse, so he relished in the moment as much as he could. Once it was tied, Jesse thanked him and left the room to record his Tiktok. Meanwhile, Ivan returned to his journal and began writing. 

March 12th - I am soo fucking h*rny. Sometimes, I wish my roommate would give in to his secret desires and just makeout with me already. 

Just as Ivan finished writing the last letter, a terrifying scream coming from the living room interrupted his journaling session. He quickly ran out with the pink journal in hand and saw Jesse straining himself to break the ribbon. No matter how hard he flexed, the pink ribbon stayed firmly wrapped around his bicep.

Although Ivan was worried about the pink ribbon constricting Jesse's arm, he couldn't help but stare at the massive bulge in his roommate's gray sweatpants. It was huge! Was Jesse hard? Ivan always had a feeling that his straight roommate was packing some serious heat downstairs, but he would've never guessed he'd be that big and thick! Just seeing his bulge was enough to make Ivan's jaw drop!

"Dude is this ribbon made out of fucking titanium or some shit! Where the fuck did you even get this!?" Jesse yelled out in anguish. It was enough to bring Ivan back down to Earth.

"I don't know! It came free with this weird notebook I found."

"Whatever!! Just go get the scissors! This shit's way too tight, my arm's starting to go numb!"

"Right! Hang on, I'll be right back!"

Uh oh!!

Just as Ivan turned around to go get the scissors, a sudden high-pitched voice made him stop dead in his tracks. It was a girl's voice, and it was coming from the notebook in his hands. Ivan looked down and froze from what he saw. The cartoon princess pig had come to life!

Uh oh!! It looks like our new friend isn't being a very good listener! Let's play some music to help clear his mind!

Miss Pigwin began singing a melody while soft piano music played. The music had no effect on Ivan, but it did on Jesse. Jesse suddenly stopped fighting and just laid flat on the floor. Within seconds, he had gone from a pissed off jock trying to rip the ribbon off his arm to eerily calm and relaxed. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and exhaled heavily. Jesse had a dazed look in his eyes once he opened them. He had a dull, almost sleepy-like expression plastered on his face too. It was like he was sedated by simply listening to Miss Pigwin's song! Only once Jesse was fully relaxed did Miss Pigwin finally stop the music.

Yayyy!! No more distracting thoughts! Now what did our best friend tell us?

Ivan watched in awe as Jesse got up from the ground while massaging his protruding bulge. His movements were almost mechanical, like a mindless robot following orders. He then began walking towards Ivan while reciting what Ivan had written inside the Miss Pigwin journal.

"I'm soo h*rny... I just wanna make out with my roommate. I'm soo h*rny... I just wanna make out with my roommate. I'm soo h*rny... I just wanna make out with my roommate."

It was incredible. Despite having never read it, Jesse kept repeating what Ivan had written over and over like a personal mantra!

Once Jesse closed the gap between them, Ivan got a good look how dilated his pupils were. It was quite the sight to see, though Jesse didn't give Ivan any time to react. Instead, he quickly joined his lips with Ivan's and kissed him roughly. Ivan was caught off guard by the surprise kiss but quickly matched Jesse's energy as the two kissed like it was their last night being alive. Ivan could hardly believe it. He had gone from merely tolerating his roommate's existence to making out with him in the same night! He felt himself light up with joy and pleasure as Jesse's hairy chest pressed against his with every kiss.

They continued at it for a while, locking lips until they gradually moved towards the couch. From there, they both discarded any remaining clothes they had on. Ivan hopped into Jesse's strong arms and went in for another deep kiss. He was shuddering with anticipation as he felt Jesse's rock hard boner tap against his butt. Luckily for him, it didn't take them much longer until they decided to get into position. Ivan spit onto Jesse's cock to lube it up, then guided it into his hole. A deep, sensual moan escaped his mouth as Jesse slowly thrusted his hips into him. Inch by inch, his dick disappeared into his ass. The room then filled with the sounds of men grunting and heavy, cum-filled balls clapping against Ivan's cheeks. Ivan was in heaven, while Jesse was in a trance with only one thought in his mind. Give into his desires, and makeout with his roommate.

Ivan woke up the next morning feeling like a brand new man after the amazing pounding he had received from Jesse. To say he was in a state of bliss would be a massive understatement! Even just remembering the feeling of Jesse's massive cock inside of him was enough to make Ivan smile with delight. But his grin quickly faded when he reached out for the Miss Pigwin journal and found it wasn't where he had left it before falling asleep. Even worse, he found a piece of pink ribbon had been tied around his wrist while he was sleeping.

"No... Nononono NOO!!"

"Good morning, Sleeping Beauty! Looking for something?"

To Ivan's horror, Jesse was holding the Miss Pigwin journal and he looked furious! Although, despite the present danger, Ivan couldn't help but notice that Jesse still had the same ribbon tied around his bicep.

"Hey man... Let's put down the journal, and have a civilized conversation between adults. I promise it's not what it looks like, just let me ex-"

"Nahh FUCK that. I'm glad I woke up just before you did, otherwise I would've never found out what the fuck you did to me with this weird journal. You always gave me weird vibes but this? I... I don't even know where to start I'm so MAD!"

Jesse slammed a fist against the wall, startling Ivan. He then let out a maniacal chuckle as he pulled out a pen and opened the journal.

"Alright, Ivan, you wanna fuck up my mind so badly? Two can play at that game!"

Loud scribbling filled the room. Once he finished, Jesse read out loud what he wrote.

"Ivan's too serious for his own good. He needs to lighten up and join my frat so we can become best bros forever!!"

"...That's stupid. I'm not gonna do that."

"Are you sure?"

Uh oh!!

"I think Miss Pigwin might disagree with-"

Ivan smacked the book out of Jesse's hands, catching him off guard. The journal landed against the wall with a loud thud. Ivan wasted no time making a break for the journal. He bought himself a few seconds by smacking it away from Jesse. Those few seconds were all he needed to open the journal to a new page and write something down. In the heat of the moment, he could only think of one thing to write.

"Jesse's gay 4 me!"

"YOU FUCKER! ERASE THAT SHIT RIGHT NOW!!"

Jesse grabbed the journal but Ivan had a tight grip on it. The two slammed into the nearby walls and furniture as they tried to wrestle it out of the other's hands. The Miss Pigwin journal was getting torn and crumpled up in the crossfire of their fight, but that didn't stop the princess from carrying out her sole purpose.

It looks- New friend- Good listener! Let's- Some music- clear his mind!

Miss Pigwin began singing her soothing song, forcing both men into a hypnotic trance as they listened. They both fell to the ground screaming as the pink ribbons grew tighter around their bodies. They tried plugging their ears with their fingers, but it was already too late. The second they heard the first few notes of her song, Miss Pigwin was already deep within subconscious- ready to broadcast whatever was written in the journal directly into their brains. However, because the journal had gotten destroyed during the fight, Miss Pigwin's subliminal messaging turned out to be incredibly potent than usual.

Ivan fell back against the ground in a daze. He couldn't believe how discombobulated he was. It was like he was trapped underwater as he felt his mind beginning to clear of any and all thoughts. Ivan let out a heavy sigh as a powerful, cool calm filled his body. Soon enough, the only thing he could think about was how badly he wanted to become a frat bro just like Jesse. Ivan repeated his new life mantra to himself as his mind became hyper focused on only one goal.

"I need to lighten up... I need to join a frat... I need to become best bros with Jesse..."

A lot of his engineering knowledge got wiped away from his mind to make room for his new personality. Mathematics and physics were replaced with workout regimes and a strong, itching need to drink and get laid. The partying lifestyle of the frat bro that once repulsed Ivan became as normal as breathing to the former homebody gay man. Ivan tried resisting against Miss Pigwin's conditioning. He tried reminding himself how much he loved a quiet night at home by himself. He tried recalling how much he hated loud, obnoxious men who did nothing but party and drink all night. But everytime he tried fighting against it, the little voice repeating his mantra grew louder and louder until all opposition was completely stamped out. Ivan had been reborn.

As he rose from the ground with an altered conscience and personality, the only thing on Ivan's mind was how to maximize his gains the next time he hit the gym. After all, how could he even dare to show his face around his frat brothers if he couldn't keep up with them in terms of bodybuilding?

Meanwhile, Jesse laid out sprawled on the ground as a calm stupor washed over his aggravated mind. Soon enough, his mind became a quiet place where only one thought remained.

"I'm gay for Ivan... I'm gay for Ivan... I'm gay... For Ivan..."

Jesse repeated the same sentence to himself until the words no longer felt foreign leaving his mouth. Soon enough, saying he was gay for Ivan felt as natural as saying his name. His desires to sleep with women melted away from his subconscious everytime he recited his new mantra.

Like Ivan, Jesse tried fighting against it. He tried remembering the taste and feel of a woman's touch, but it was no use against Miss Pigwin's powerful conditioning. His memories of being with women were quickly fading. In their place, a deep, profound love for his roommate-turned-loved began to take hold. Within minutes, Jesse wanted nothing more in life than to stand by his boyfriend's side and make sure he felt loved.

Once Ivan and Jesse woke up to their new personalities, Miss Pigwin finished her song, never to be heard from again due to the journal being in tatters. Jesse woke up with a headache and with a grinning Ivan by his side.

"Good morning my handsome boyfriend, how'd you sleep?"

"Amazing because I slept with you, my love." Jesse joined his lips against Ivan's. The two shared a deep kiss filled with passion, ending with a loud smack when they finally pulled apart.

"You ready for today? I can't wait to start the rushing process, then we can join together!" Ivan flashed a wide smile. Jesse wrapped his hands around Ivan's neck.

"The frat can wait till later. Right now, I want you all to myself."

He pulled Ivan in for another kiss. The two men then proceeded to fuck all morning, completely unaware of the strange circumstances that led them to that point. All thanks to a little princess pig on the cover of a bright pink notebook.

[writing-zelda-brainrots]

More Apothecary!Reader thoughts.

They realise Twilight's 'situation' a lot quicker than anyone would have thought (probably before he even told the others). Our dear apothecary is constantly having to play detective back at the palace, there's no way they don't figure it out.

Twilight: How did you find out I was Wolfie? I haven't told anyone that. [Name]: Well, let's see. You have the same markings, I've never seen you two in the same place at the same time, and neither has anyone else, I've noticed your sharper fangs and senses, as well as your sometimes feral behaviour, and Wolfie is way more intelligent than a wolf should ever be. It doesn't take a genius to put two and two together.

They're legit the one with the brain cell 97% of the time. The only time they aren't is when they're geeking out over herbs they found/when making medicine.

It's like there's this invisible 'common sense' switch among the group. Before [Name] joined, it would constantly flip between them all depending on the situation. However, after your little accident, the switch is almost always pointing in your direction.

Random villager: I understand the importance of having a healer around, but... Are they really the best you've got? Time: They have extensive knowledge of medicine that is unmatched by anyone else we've ever met. Also, they are our group's common sense. [Name]: *giggling evilly while picking plants from the ground and bushes* Time: They are our most valuable asset.

I've been thinking about this, but the Chain probably doesn't know about CPR. Medicine in Hyrule is all about potions and fairy magic, things like that, even in the games when you faint it cuts to black and the npcs just kinda wait for you to wake up. Imagine how the others freak out when one of them is downed and you preform mouth-to-mouth for the first time.

Human medicine, because it doesn't use any magic, is not instant, but is a lot more thorough. I hc that because potions/fairies are so fast with the healing, the recipient also gets hit with all of the pain at once (thank you, Dungeon Meshi for this). On the other hand, potions and fairies can't really do much in case of things like infections/illnesses/aches/cramps/concussions (pretty much anything that isn't an open wound/broken bone). I mean, they do help, but they're simply not as effective in certain situations. Meanwhile, humans have invented medicines for all those other things and more.

[elaboratedbee]

Love at first fight? Just a funny and cute thought for a Bigby x S/O 🥺

LOVE AT FIRST FIGHT (BIGBY X READER)

hi! this is probably going to be short instead of a fully fledged x reader but i have a lil muse left tonight and this idea is so cute :)

Imprinting was a funny thing.

Bigby's mother had described it to him when he was just a cub, but the concept was always vague. A bedtime story. A fantasy. Some would even call it a fairytale. He would curl up next to her, fidgeting and kicking until he wasn't being crushed by his brothers and sisters, listening to her sweet voice as she lulled him to sleep. Imprinting, when a wolf found their perfect mate. When your eyes locked together, and the world stopped turning, when your heart rearranged itself to make room for somebody else. One singular moment, that changed your entire life's trajectory.

Bigby wasn't a cub anymore, and he had bigger things to worry about than finding a mate. Unlike certain delusional individuals, Bigby was able to accept reality, and accept the shittiness of that reality. He didn't need to coddle himself with religion, or bedtime stories, or some fantasy of true love that didn't exist. Nobody who had seen the things that he had would believe in any of that.

He shoved his free hand into his pocket, taking a long drag of the cigarette perched in the other. He felt the smoke crawl into his lungs, fill up the hole in his chest for the briefest of moments. He held it there for a second, clinging to the feeling before he blew the smoke out. It rolled over his lip, spilling into the night air as he leaned against a lamp post. Even as he took the moment to relax, his eyes were roving the street, searching up and down.

The scream that cut through the air didn't surprise him, but he straightened up immediately. The cigarette fell from his hand, the end glowing orange as he abandoned it on the tarmac below, sprinting toward one of the numerous dark alleyways. He knew something was off -- or maybe something was just always off in Fabletown. He rounded the corner and screeched to a halt, immediately taking in the scene.

"Hey!" He growled, drawing the attention of the mugger who was trying to wrench the bag from your hands. Bigby ran forward and drew his arm back, but before he could even make contact, you beat him to the punch, literally. Your knuckles crashed into the petty criminal's nose with a satisfying crunch, which turned into a fountain of blood.

"Ugh!" You grunted, following it up by grabbing both of his shoulders and driving your knee upward with all your strength, straight into his groin. The man collapsed like oragami in the rain, crumpling to the ground with a choked off noise. He curled in on himself, his eyes practically rolling into the back of his head. You readjusted your bag onto your back, scowling down at the figure.

Bigby stared, looking remarkably awkward. He had charged forward, adrenaline pumping, prepared for a fight, and now the energy had nowhere to go. It thrummed in his veins, his blood hot, his eyes a little wild. Sometimes, he felt like an addict. "You alri--?" He began to ask gruffly, but he was quickly cut off by you.

"I had that," you snapped at him, brushing yourself off and glaring in his general direction, "I had it handled, I didn't need you to get involved."

Bigby's face soured, and he clenched his fist. He was no stranger to ingratitude for his work around Fabletown though. "Looked like it," he muttered sarcastically, bending down to drag the whimpering criminal's hands together behind his back and cuff them tightly.

"Excuse me?" You stepped closer, putting your hands on your hips and staring down at him.

"Nothing," Bigby said. And then, after a beat, "just that if I hadn't have distracted him, he would have snapped your damn neck. But sure, you had it."

"Oh, and you charging in here like that was smart? It was a robbery! If he hurt me, it would've been because you stormed in here and spooked him," you accused huffily, "do you even fucking think?"

"I'll tell you what I fuckin' think--" Bigby growled, his eyes flashing yellow at being provoked and he stood, dropping the perpetrator flat on his face and standing up straight. He glared at you, this time looking directly into your eyes.

It hit him like a punch, at first. It was nothing like his mother had described, so much so that he didn't recognise what was happening to him. For a second, he wondered if he had taken a silver bullet to the heart. There was a dull pain in his chest that spread outward, as if his heart was cramping, or twisting. He clutched his chest, almost tearing the buttons of his shirt. The feeling spread, becoming nausea in his stomach, like hundreds of butterflies were trying to escape. His legs felt weak, his arms felt shaky, and before he knew it, he was leaning forward. Like a magnet, unable to resist the pull, he found himself drawn in and in and...

"What the fuck are you doing?"

The question snapped him out of it, and he jerked back. He could feel prickly heat from shame and embarrassment crawl down his neck, and he felt vaguely dizzy. How could he even explain himself? How could he tell you that he wanted to pick you up, throw you over his shoulder and take you somewhere safe for the rest of your life? To wrap you up in his arms and breathe in your scent. To experience the press of your lips on his. To consume you whole, until you were one.

He had never experienced something like this, and he felt terrified. Vulnerable. With one look, you had ripped him open and examined him, had rearranged his anatomy and made room for yourself. Not just in his heart, but in every part of his body. In every cell, in every atom, you were part of him. You were his mate.

Bigby cleared his throat, "nothing. Do you want to come by the Sheriff's Office tomorrow and make a statement?" He asked flatly, "uh...?" He raised an eyebrow questioningly and gestured vaguely, searching for your name.

"(Y/N)," you supplied with a nod.

Bigby felt like if he didn't know he would see you again, his body might spontaneously combust. "So?" He asked, sounding impatient and bored of the interchange.

"I'll stop by in the morning," you agreed, "and I'll give you a statement telling you exactly how I had it handled..." You winked at him and turned, walking off. Bigby watched you go until you were out of sight.

[erendur]

The Gil-Galad choice

You know the Peredhil choice ?

Well, let's imagine that in light of a. his dubious parentage (somebody somewhere must know the truth, but they won't tell) and b. his long and honourable service as High King of the Noldor and also c. his heroic deeds, a reembodied Gil-Galad is also given a choice : he gets to choose to which branch of the Finwean family he is going to officially belong.

So one sunny day in Tirion (they are all sunny, it's Valinor and it's boring, but they have chosen that particular day so), all assemble in the grand public square in the middle of the city, in which Prince Fëanáro had once memorably threatened his brother Prince Ñolofinwë with a sword and on another occasion called the Noldor to rebellion and also sworn an Oath (nothing much happened there after that), to hear the head of each of the three Houses of the Sons of King Finwë present to Gil-Galad their arguments as to why he should chose them.

The current King of the Noldor, Arafinwë, goes first.

He is feeling a bit light-headed and jittery, because the poor guy has been in charge of what was left of the Noldor after the departure of the exiles, had to manage the de-Fëanárification process (see there), the tense relations with the Vanyar (while being himself part-Vanyar - awkward), the even more tense relations with the Falmari (his wife is a Falmar - awkward doesn't even start to cover it), and as if that wasn't enough has also had to manage the thickening stream of reembodied Noldor coming back to Valinor over the centuries - and these guys range from the frankly annoying (won't shut up about their war exploits, sing inappropriate songs in public, have adopted weird, Avarin/Mannish ways) to the downright terrifying (you'd think the reembodied Fëanorians and you wouldn't be wrong, but Arafinwë is particularly appalled by the crazed look in the eyes of some of his son Finrod's followers).

In short, the only reason why Arafinwë hasn't had a burn-out yet is because it's technically impossible in Valinor, and his body is betraying him by holding on. He sees a vague window of opportunity there : maybe Gil-Galad will want the crown ???? And will manage the Noldor for him ??? After all a lot of the recent arrivals are his people !!!! And Arafinwë can take his wife to the sea-side (away from any Falmari settlement) and have a good 500 (Valian)year-long nap !!!!!

"Oh, wise Gil-Galad, the echoes of your wisdom and of your proud and determined leadership of our people have of course made their way to us..." Arafinwë starts.

Gil-Galad immediately takes three steps back. He knows the over-eager look in Arafinwë's eye. He's been fooled once. He won't be fooled twice. He is staying the hell out of crown-throwing distance.

"And, er, I would be honoured and proud to count you as a member of my House, where your, er, wise advice ? Would be most appreciated", Arafinwë keeps plodding on, the light in his eyes going progressively duller and duller as Gil-Galad's gaze remains stubbornly fixed somewhere in the general distance and his facial expression carefully arranged in a polite not-on-your-life expression.

"My son Felagund and his wife Amarië would be most eager to welcome you among us as well", here Arafinwë points in the general direction of what looks like a tall mound of golden hair and jewellery, topped with a couple of live snakes, that on closer inspection reveals itself to be a smiling Findaráto.

He waves enthusiastically in the direction of Gil-Galad. His equally golden-haired and bejewelled wife does the same. They both wear late-Númenorean fashion (as in, the latest in Númenorean fashion before the boats stopped going there) which, to Valinorean eyes, make them look like the equivalent of pot-smoking hippies, but their friendly appearance is canceled out by the feral looks of Felagund's followers, all of them dressed in some form of forest/jungle tactical camouflage, some with added wolf pelts, others with live poison-dart frogs jumping on their shoulders (and hair accessories that look suspiciously like darts), and with facial expressions worthy of later-stages Fëanorians (they've seen the darkness. They liked it). Gil-Galad waves back weakly.

"And, er, you might also have heard of my sons Angaráto and Aikanáro ?" Arafinwë continues in an even more depressed voice than before.

Two buff-looking golden-haired Elves, one vaguely fiery-looking, wave in Gil-Galad's direction. They look nice and fierce but he has literally zero idea who they are. Still, he waves back a bit more enthusiastically. "And of course, you know well my daughter, Artanis", finishes Arafinwë, a bit more enthusiastically.

Gil-Galad gives a little shudder there. He does know her well indeed.

Arafinwë goes back to his seat, looking like he needs a nap more than ever. His wife gives him a sympathetic look. Looks like today is another day he won't manage to get rid of that damn crown.

Ñolofinwë stands up next.

He's a bit the worse for wear (for an Elf) because the night before was the Crossing of the Ice evening, a bi-weekly event during which veterans of the crossing of the Helcaraxë meet up to commemorate the crossing of the Ice (they trade anecdotes in a loud voice, sing in an even louder one, drink a lot and sometimes cross the ice over the Tirion river when they have managed to pester a Maia enough that they have conjured up some - not to be mistaken with the Dagor Aglareb night, a weekly event commemorating the Dagor Aglareb, during which they trade anecdotes in a loud voice, sing in an even louder one and drink a lot, or the Siege of Angband night, a weekly event commemorating the Siege of Angband, during which they trade anecdotes in a loud voice, sing in an even louder one and drink a lot - all of which celebrations end up in the small hours of the morning when a very tired-looking Arafinwë, cloak hastily thrown over his nightclothes, drags himself out of bed to politely ask them to go home). Ñolofinwë is very bored to have nothing much to do after having been High King for so long, and therefore consistently organises attends every single one of these celebrations.

"My dear chum", Ñolofinwë starts in a booming voice that fails to be entirely patronising only because it is still slightly hoarse from the recent celebrations, "I think you and I will see eye to eye. You know, of course, of my own paltry feats of arms."

Here Ñolofinwë stops to let off a short, self-deprecating laugh, which, like the word "chum", he thinks makes him look likeable and approachable by the common Noldorin soldier.

"How I lead my people through the dangers and harshness of the Helcaraxë, how I was unanimously chosen as the leader of my people, how I came up with the idea of, and maintained, the siege of Angband against impossible odds, how I and my people won the glorious Dagor Aglareb, how I personally challenged the Enemy in a single duel and gave him wounds from which he suffers to this day."

At that point almost every member of the assistance that is not a close personal follower of Ñolofinwë is rolling their eyes. Yes, he has been a very heroic Elf, but hearing about it non-stop for an entire Age and a half has kind of worn everybody's patience out (especially hearing about it sung at the top of some very drunk Elf-lords' lungs in the small hours of the morning).

Gil-Galad looks a bit taken aback by the familiarity of the tone (NO ONE has ever called him "chum" in his life before - and he's been patronised aplenty in the Second Age by the superb Númenorean descendants of Elros, the half-feral Peredhel whose education he'd thankfully considerably polished before he became the first King of Númenor).

"You've also heard, no doubt, about the deeds of my son, Findekáno, who would give you a warm welcome among our family and join his voice to mine to express how much in your environment a renowned warrior like you would be among us, if he could."

There's a slightly awkward silence there. Everybody knows that unlike his Father, Findekáno doesn't like to hear, and much less talk, about anything that happened in Beleriand, and furthermore suffers from severe agoraphobia due to the manner of his demise, hence his absence from the city square on that day.

"But my son Arakáno is here ! And you know of course of his deeds in Lammoth !"

A tall, dark-haired, stern-looking Elf nods slightly in Gil-Galad's direction. Never much one for smiling, he always looks particularly sour on the days after the bi-weekly Crossing the Ice celebrations, for some reason (his father has never managed to figure out why).

"And, er, my daughter Írissë is also...there", Ñolofinwë adds, a bit falteringly, his eyes scanning the crowd until they finally manage to locate his daughter - Oh, Eru - in the middle of the scant Fëanorian crowd, a smirk on her lips as she sits provocatively on her cousin Tyelkormo's lap, clad in her usual all-white hunting outfit.

She raises her eyebrows and waves at her father, then at Gil-Galad, who does his best not to stare. Oh, dear.

"And my son Turukáno has also made us the welcome surprise to get out of his house and join us today", adds Ñolofinwë acidly. "He is of course the grandfather of the hero Eärendil, as well as the great-grandfather of the first King of Númenor and, er, your former herald, Eirinion", he concludes with more warmth.

Gil-Galad waves at a slightly embarrassed-looking Turukáno, a tight smile on his lips. Elrond is of course his dearest, closest friend, and he has some fond memories of Elros of course, but both of them, and principally the former, are the main reason why his hair went prematurely silver, and responsible for enough headaches over the course of an Age that he had worry lines etched onto his face pre-reembodiment, and while he loves them very much he does not much fancy getting into an even closer relationship with them.

Ñolofinwë sits back down next to his wife, and it's now the turn of the Fëanorians to present their case. Of course, their very presence in the city square on that day has been frowned upon - they rarely leave their settlement of Formenos, much to everyone's delight, and the very idea that they could have a right to present their claim has raised many eyebrows. But they don't have peace and reconciliation processes and committees for nothing, and Manwë had ruled that they should have the right to present their case as well as the others.

It's a surprisingly sprightly-looking Maitimo that jumps to his feet to speak in the name of his House. His father, while reembodied, has been confined to an uninhabited region North of Formenos, where he lives alone with his wife (in between visits from their children and grandchild), who voluntarily decided to accompany him, and spends his days between working in his ever-sprawling forge and trying to convince his wife to have an eighth child (he is nowhere nearer to winning that argument than since he'd started it a few hundred years prior), and never comes to Tirion (Ñolofinwë is half-relieved, half-sad - and bored).

"Eirinion, I have been charged today by my brother Curufinwë, King of the Noldor of Formenos, to convey an invitation to come and reside there as a member of our family, which his official duties sadly prevent him from delivering in person." Maitimo smirks there.

The reason his brother Curufinwë, King of the Noldor of Formenos (the crown has be attributed on a "Oh, you wanted a crown, didn't you ??? Well, here's one ! Be my guest ! YOU are in charge of that troop of bloodthirsty crazy lunatics now !" basis) is unable to attend the meeting is because the Valar have strictly forbidden for the Noldor of Formenos (read : hardcore Fëanorians) to be left unattended at any time, and Curufinwë, as the one in charge, has therefore to remain there. He is also barred from public speaking. And the toilet in the public square of Formenos was clogged (it's part of his kingly duties to take care of it).

"Now, we might not have almost-met under the most auspicious of circumstances back in Beleriand. And the actions of my family and my faction have been indefensible," he pauses long enough to glare at the small group of Fëanorians at his back, daring them to make a protest. No one seems particularly inclined to.

"So of course, we don't have much to offer to tempt you to join us. What do we have, indeed ? A far-out of the way, small settlement, in which people mostly mind their own business. Nothing much to do there, except try on my father's latest inventions, which do not always work at the first try - it took him two goes to get the electricity working in the whole of Formenos, and that revolutionary de-greying hair product he invented was very underwhelming at first. I'm not going to lie, there is no chance that you would ever get any sort of political responsibilities, or even be asked for advice there - my brother Curunfinwë is 100% in sole charge there of dealing with each and any problem that arises, with additional help from my brother Tyelkormo. I - I mean, the Valar, - insist on it. As for grand celebrations of our proud military past, or any current martial activities, you can well imagine that they are entirely out of the question there. There is actually a ban on them."

Maitimo pauses there for a second, deep in thought. "Of course, you also have probably formed a very poor opinion of us, based on the Peredhil situation. Know that we tried our best. All I can say is that they used to bite even more."

He pauses again, and gives Gil-Galad a wry smile. Gil-Galad shudders for the second time on that day.

"What else could I add ?" One of his brothers stands up and whispers something in his ear.

"Oh yes, and Moryo makes THE BEST cookies."

[fatehbaz]

Travel back [...] a few hundred years to before the industrial revolution, and the wildlife of Britain and Ireland looks very different indeed. 

Take orcas: while there are now less than ten left in Britain’s only permanent (and non-breeding) resident population, around 250 years ago the English [...] naturalist John Wallis gave this extraordinary account of a mass stranding of orcas on the north Northumberland coast [...]. If this record is reliable, then more orcas were stranded on this beach south of the Farne Islands on one day in 1734 than are probably ever present in British and Irish waters today. [...]

Other careful naturalists from this period observed orcas around the coasts of Cornwall, Norfolk and Suffolk. I have spent the last five years tracking down more than 10,000 records of wildlife recorded between 1529 and 1772 by naturalists, travellers, historians and antiquarians throughout Britain and Ireland, in order to reevaluate the prevalence and habits of more than 150 species [...].

In the early modern period, wolves, beavers and probably some lynxes still survived in regions of Scotland and Ireland. By this point, wolves in particular seem to have become re-imagined as monsters [...].

Elsewhere in Scotland, the now globally extinct great auk could still be found on islands in the Outer Hebrides. Looking a bit like a penguin but most closely related to the razorbill, the great auk’s vulnerability is highlighted by writer Martin Martin while mapping St Kilda in 1697 [...].

[A]nd pine martens and “Scottish” wildcats were also found in England and Wales. Fishers caught burbot and sturgeon in both rivers and at sea, [...] as well as now-scarce fishes such as the angelshark, halibut and common skate. Threatened molluscs like the freshwater pearl mussel and oyster were also far more widespread. [...]

Predators such as wolves that interfered with human happiness were ruthlessly hunted. Authors such as Robert Sibbald, in his natural history of Scotland (1684), are aware and indeed pleased that several species of wolf have gone extinct:

There must be a divine kindness directed towards our homeland, because most of our animals have a use for human life. We also lack those wild and savage ones of other regions. Wolves were common once upon a time, and even bears are spoken of among the Scottish, but time extinguished the genera and they are extirpated from the island.

The wolf was of no use for food and medicine and did no service for humans, so its extinction could be celebrated as an achievement towards the creation of a more civilised world. Around 30 natural history sources written between the 16th and 18th centuries remark on the absence of the wolf from England, Wales and much of Scotland. [...]

In Pococke’s 1760 Tour of Scotland, he describes being told about a wild species of cat – which seems, incredibly, to be a lynx – still living in the old county of Kirkcudbrightshire in the south-west of Scotland. Much of Pococke’s description of this cat is tied up with its persecution, apparently including an extra cost that the fox-hunter charges for killing lynxes:

They have also a wild cat three times as big as the common cat. [...] It is said they will attack a man who would attempt to take their young one [...]. The country pays about £20 a year to a person who is obliged to come and destroy the foxes when they send to him. [...]

The capercaillie is another example of a species whose decline was correctly recognised by early modern writers. Today, this large turkey-like bird [...] is found only rarely in the north of Scotland, but 250–500 years ago it was recorded in the west of Ireland as well as a swathe of Scotland north of the central belt. [...] Charles Smith, the prolific Dublin-based author who had theorised about the decline of herring on the coast of County Down, also recorded the capercaillie in County Cork in the south of Ireland, but noted: This bird is not found in England and now rarely in Ireland, since our woods have been destroyed. [...] Despite being protected by law in Scotland from 1621 and in Ireland 90 years later, the capercaillie went extinct in both countries in the 18th century [...].

---

Images, captions, and text by: Lee Raye. “Wildlife wonders of Britain and Ireland before the industrial revolution – my research reveals all the biodiversity we’ve lost.” The Conversation. 17 July 2023. [Map by Lee Raye. Bold emphasis and some paragraph breaks/contractions added by me.]

[sundrop-writes]

Claustrophobia

Isaac Lahey x GN!Reader

Word Count: 800

Teen Wolf Masterlist

Warnings: mentions of the abuse Isaac experienced from his father, mentions of that abuse having a last psychological effect on him (in the form of claustrophobia); Isaac having a panic attack due to his claustrophobia being unexpectedly triggered; this is more of a hurt/comfort fic because the reader helps him calm down. Implications that the reader doesn't know about the existence of werewolves and the supernatural. The reader's gender is not described in any way. Also, I don't know if this is at all sound advice about how to treat someone during a panic attack - not something I am versed in. I think that's it? Not proofread cause I'm on a mental hiatus babey

A/N: I just watched Season 3, Episode 4 (I've been watching two episodes a day and really enjoying the pace of it) and naturally the moment where Isaac gets stuck in the closet called to me like a beacon of whump. So here's this. Also highly recommend pairing this with Claustrophobia by 3OH! 3

...

"Did it have to be a closet?"

Isaac let out a dry chuckle, a seemingly nervous laugh as he eyed up the space apprehensively before stepping inside, putting some of the supplies on one of the shelves.

The two of you began gathering supplies off the cart and loading them into the janitor's closet, carrying out the punishment you had been given. You had been fifteen minutes late to class that morning, and you had heard that Isaac was in detention for fighting - beating up one of the new kids. You knew that since his father died, he had taken on somewhat of a new persona - more bold, more unafraid to get in trouble. But you had a feeling that violence didn't suit him.

It made you wonder what the other guy did to provoke the fight, or what the truth really was. But you felt that it wasn't your place to ask.

"It's not so bad." You remarked, sensing his general anxiety about this activity, but having no clue why.

He seemed fairly confident in every other area of life - he took down guys on the field in lacrosse without even flinching, he walked tall in the halls with confidence (not that you had noticed, not that you stared at him or anything) - it did make you wonder what was so intimidating to him about a closet full of spray bottles and napkins.

"I'm... not so good with small spaces." He remarked quietly, shyly, grabbing some more of the supplies off the cart and stepping inside beside you to begin organzing everything.

Ah. He was claustrophobic. That made sense.

You had heard rumours floating around the school after his father died - you had even heard whispers between Scott and Stiles when they were trying to be subtle in their conversations but had a poor sense of tact. Isaac's father used to lock him in a freezer as punishment, among other things. It was a horror you couldn't imagine.

"You-"

You were about to offer for him to leave, offering to finish up the rest of the work by yourself so that he wouldn't have to be burdened by his anxiety, when the closet door swung shut, slamming closed in a strangely violent manner. Isaac rushed to the door, furiously ripping on the handle, trying to get it open.

"It - it won't open-" He gasped, suddenly sounding terribly out of breath.

He was panicking, likely overtaken by horrible memories that you couldn't even imagine.

"It's okay, it's probably just stuck, I can call someone-" You took your phone out of your pocket, trying to reassure him, but his panicked flailing in the small space, now shouldering against the door, trying to ram it down, knocked your phone out of your hand and cracked the screen.

You didn't know if it was still in working order or not, but you knew it would be wiser to calm him down first.

"Something - something is blocking it from the other side!" He said, his breaths becoming more panicked and frantic as he kept trying to charge the door down - how was he not hurting himself?

He was sweating and shaking, and you ached with sympathy for him.

In Isaac's mind, he was right back there. Locked in darkness, clawing against the tiny, enclosed walls, desperate to get out. He was suffocating, he was running out of air, he was gonna die. He couldn't breathe, he couldn't-

Suddenly, your hand moved against his shoulders, a flat, firm palm rubbing his back, trying to comfort him. The pure gentleness of the touch startled his senses back to reality - there had been nobody to comfort him back then. He collapsed against the door, pressing his forehead into the metal, and deeply against his will, he let out a sob.

"Hey, shh, it's okay." You told him, trying to be as soothing as possible. "You're being so brave-"

"I'm not brave." Isaac choked out. "I'm sorry, I-"

"Don't apologize." You told him firmly, fighting back your own tears of empathy had how distraught he was. "Come on, sit down. Let's take a minute to calm down and breathe and then we'll find a way out of here."

You helped him onto the floor - he practically collapsed into a sitting position against one of the shelves, his entire body shuddering and shaking. Though he wasn't the most naturally affectionate person in the world, he didn't deny your touches when you cradled his head onto your shoulder and continued to soothingly rub his back.

After a few minutes of silence, save for his whimpers as his tears died down, he spoke up.

"I'm sorry," He apologized again. "I just - my dad..." He trailed off, barely able to voice it.

"It's okay," You told him, and for once in his life - he actually felt okay, here with you, in your arms. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

"Thank you." He sighed.

When Scott came and got the two of you out of the closet (after Isaac had apologized a dozen more times for cracking your phone screen) - he could sense something in the way Isaac looked at you now, but he didn't say anything about it. Not yet.

[biscuitdragonwithastick]

Wolf in Sheeps Clothing, Another idea

While writing, it's common to come up with multiple ideas centered around one idea. For this prompt, there was quite a few I was considering:

CW: Monsterfucking, noncon, eggpreg, broodmare fetish, pregnancy kink

What if the monster was well known on the farm. You're the rookie out grazing with the sheep when your pushed down and fucked full of eggs. Your fellow farm hands drag you back to the farmhouse and explain that what this monster is. It protects the sheep and cattle and even the farmers. There isn't just one on the farm, probably dozens, but they're all complete replicas of their mimicked animal. You can't tell which one is which and at this point there's no real reason to try and discern the creatures. You're not allowed to kill them and, honestly, the only reason why they haven't tried to kill everyone here is that you're all useful for taking their brood. What does it matter that a few livestock goes missing overnight and a farmhand is left pregnant for the next few months when you some useful monsters at your side more than happy to keep the herd safe.

Or maybe the monster just leaves you there. Hole unplugged. The eggs don't settle within you and quickly try to evacuate the way they came. It takes fifteen minutes of pushing for a pile of eggs to brush between your thighs. That's when your finally able to sit up and get into a more natural position on all fours, letting gravity do all the work. You hate how pleasurable it is to birth these eggs, but you can't get pregnant with them. You'd hate to what birthing them months from now would be like. It takes an hour of groaning and painful spasming orgasms to finally feel like you've gotten rid of them all. You even stuff a hand inside to see if you can force any out manually. You're thankful when you finally get back home to owrest. Terrified of going back to tend to your flock, but shits still got to get done around here. And, as the months dredge on and try to forget what happened, you start to notice that knowing bulge of your stomach growing bigger.

I always love the stories of people being strapped to the underbellies of centaurs and being fucked with every step. It went in a way different direction than the prompt, but imagine if it hadn't left you there. Instead you were assimilated into its body. You hadn't seen the eggs against its facade, no one would be able to see you, stuffed full of tentacles at both ends and gravid with eggs. The other farmhands you worked with would wonder what happened to you, its just like you vanished into thin air. If only they knew you were being fucked among the herd grazing out in field unnoticed. The only time you weren't stuffed is when you were finally allowed to birth the eggs. They quickly grew into their own adult "sheep" and kidnapped their own broodmares to be bred. How many would have to disappear before an investigation occurred? Or maybe you were sacrificed to this creature on purpose.

[mystiika]

kaede tag drop

[isa-ghost]

Inspired by this post, A List Of Games I NEED all of Team Bolas to play together:

THE FOREST!!!

JACKBOX GAMES!!!

Phasmophobia

Prop Hunt

Fall Guys

Chained Together

Pico Park

Rocket League

Smash Bros (just for Etoiles <3)

Sea of Thieves

The Long Drive

Wolf Quest

Lethal Company

Among Us

Worms

Stardew Valley (I think they'd have too many players though)

Fruit Game. Again. Except all Bolas

Uno (they'd have too many players but can you IMAGINE...)