#bashfyl

[redhoodedwolf]

Can you do accidental baby acquisition, with a side of they are mates but don’t know it :) 💜

Ask and you shall receive: Accidental Amnesiac Mates Acquisition (ft. a baby)

Also @homemadesterekpie here’s some accidental baby acquisition you were wanting :3 

[mojoflower]

*hugs* You’re amazing. You brighten my day often and in so many positive ways. 💜

Right back atcha, darling, THANK YOU!

Some days, you just need virtual cuddles:  I’m so glad you’re here!

[celestialsonata7]

@bashfyl replied to your post: So, I woke up this morning to a notification of...

Dear innocent content creator, I am so sorry that you found yourself the target of a bully fest. Please do yourself a favor and block him and his friends. You are allowed to create the content you want to see. We can’t control the behavior of clearly disturbed individuals who happened to like the same show we did, but thankfully everywhere they go we can block them. *tight hugs, cocoa, and fluffy blankets*

Wow wow. I really needed to here this. Thank you so much. And as well for saying it's not my fault, even though I can't help but feel otherwise. ^-^' I'm really trying to cling to all the nice messages though and it's starting to help a lot. I am so thankful that this side of the fandom has found l'il ol' me and is rallying on my behalf to just reassure me, because I really do feel like I shouldn't post anymore, and I haven't even posted that much yet to begin with. I just can't say enough how grateful I am for all the support. Thank you. *squeezes tight and shares mini marshmellows in yummy choca while snuggling close in fluffy blankets*

[kedreeva]

*incoherent screaming* You opened prompts! Sterek: Not yet together sterek. The idea is a bath and Stiles how did you get that there?!? Thank you.

Taking Sterek Prompts | Filling Prompts Live

———

“Are you going to get in?” Stiles asked, peeling out of his last shirt, his words a little slurry around the edges. “In a- a- a-” He paused, trying rather unsuccessfully to shake his hand free of his sleeve. He started laughing uncontrollably and collapsed to the floor to work on his shoes. “The water, are you?”

“No,” Derek groused, pointedly not looking when Stiles flopped onto his back and began to shimmy out of his soaked pants. Black slime coated almost every square inch of the floor. “This is your bath, not mine.”

“Mine,” Stiles echoed, now just lying on the floor in a puddle of black, his pale skin coated head to foot in the gunk. “This is not my house.”

“Yes,” Derek agreed, as patiently as he could, checking the water’s temperature before turning off the tap. It had to be extra hot to affect the stuff. “This is the clinic.”

Deaton had explained that even minimal contact with the ichorous substance gave a contact high. Stiles had been practically drenched in the stuff when they had killed it. Luckily it was not deadly or even toxic- which was the problem. Someone had been keeping the creature as a pet, drawing out the fluid and selling it, and it had escaped three days ago to wreak havoc.

Very, very unfortunately, Derek had drawn the short straw for ensuring Stiles got cleaned up and came down from the high safely. Isaac, Boyd, and Erica were taking care of disposal of the body while Scott and Allison swung by Allison’s house to return weapons and report to her father. Deaton had been kind enough - or perhaps had enough self preservation - to give Derek the key to the clinic so he could get Stiles washed up away from his father’s questions.

“Come on,” Derek said gently, slipping from the edge of the tub to crouch at Stiles’ side. It was, he reflected, a very good thing that werewolves were not susceptible to the substance’s effects. “You gotta get cleaned up.” The effects wouldn’t wear off until every drop of the ichor was gone.

Stiles lifted his head, looking all the way down his lean form. “Oh, no, no that’s too far,” he told Derek, head falling back with an audible clunk he was probably going to feel in a few hours. “Wow, this is the best floor ever. Do you think I could take it home with me?”

“No,” Derek said with a sigh. Looked like this was going to have to be the hard way. He shifted, kneeling beside Stiles, and grabbed at his wrists to haul him up.

Despite that they slipped and slid a bit, Derek managed to get a very naked Stiles upright and across the three feet to the tub. For a second Stiles stood very still, holding tightly onto the edge of it like he was going to resist going in. Then he tipped forward and faceplanted directly into the basin so quickly Derek had to scramble to keep him from drowning.

“Hoooooo!!!!” Stiles shouted the second his mouth was above the surface, water sluicing away the ichor clinging to his skin. “It’s hot, Derek! This is really hot, why is it so hot? Oh my god, I’m melting!” He started grabbing at the black liquid coming off his skin.

Closing his eyes, Derek counted to three. Then five. Then ten, for good measure, and when he opened them again, Stiles had fallen very, very still and was staring wide eyed into the middle distance. It was not exactly an improvement, but at least he’d stopped thrashing, slopping water and ichor all over the floor and flinging it onto the walls and- and was that- on the ceiling?

“Stiles, how did you- you know what, nevermind,” Derek grumbled, reaching for the spray nozzle.

This setup was supposed to be for cleaning dogs, but it would work just as well for ornery, tripping humans. He began to run the spray over Stiles’ hair, watching the black give way to brown. When the tub had filled completely, Derek pulled the plug and let it drain. Diluted like this with water, it wouldn’t hurt the general populace; at worst, they’d all have a really good day soon.

Stiles’ eyes slid closed, and he relaxed into the gentle touches Derek used to turn him this way and that, to get at the last of the ichor still clinging to strange places like inside of his ears and between his fingers and- well, at least Stiles was unlikely to remember any of this very well tomorrow.

By the time he had gotten the last of it, Stiles had turned to putty in his hands, making a soft, pleasant humming noise that might have been purring on a cat. Derek swallowed hard, trying to keep it together. He still needed to get Stiles someplace to wait out the high, and get this place cleaned up so no one else would be affected.

Difficult to think of anything beyond the way Stiles pressed himself into Derek’s touches. “Feels good,” Stiles murmured, unwilling or unable to keep his eyes open. “You should touch me more.”

“Tomorrow,” Derek mumbled back, prodding Stiles to his feet. The floor was still covered in ichor, so Derek just leaned over and scooped a completely unresisting Stiles into his arms. Immediately, Stiles looped his own arms around Derek’s neck and burrowed his nose against Derek’s shoulder. “If you still want me to touch you tomorrow, I will.”

“Okay,” Stiles agreed muzzily.

He wouldn’t remember. No one else had. Still…

He allowed himself a small smile, and a measure of hope. Stiles had never been one for following the rules, after all.

[wannabanauthor]

bashfyl replied to your post “Shuri is only sixteen (16), please don't ship her with anyone else in...”

News flash: 16 is above the age of consent in a ton of places that weren’t settled by Puritan’s.

Sixteen has the word “teen” in it which still makes her a teenager. Don’t ship teenagers with adults. WTF is wrong with y’all that you can’t get that through your fucking thick skulls?! LEAVE SHURI THE FUCK ALONE AND DON’T SHIP HER WITH ADULTS, YOU NASTY FUCKWADS!

[clarz]

@bashfyl replied to your post “things i have to do today: **** ** ***** ****** ******* ****** ** ***...”

As I was scrolling pastI thought Oo hangman.. is there an E? :)

WOW THERE ARE 4 E’S YOU’RE BLOWING AWAY THE COMPETITION!!

***e **

***** ****** *******

****** ** *** **********

********* *** ********** 

*e** ********

*e** ***e**

[hale-of-stiles-heart]

Prompt: Sterek ;) Derek woos his mate the wolf way. :D

This is one of my favorite tropes! So glad I got to write it! Also on ao3!

Stiles wished he could say it was the first time he had found a dead animal on his doorstep. He really did. But it wasn’t.

For the past few days, five in a row to be exact, he had found all sorts of small, fluffy little woodland animals lying dead and bloody on his front porch. They ranged from squirrels, their furry tails soaked in blood, to birds, their feathers strewn around the doormat, to rabbits, who apparently were not fast enough to outrun whoever or whatever was leaving them on the front stoop.

Initially, he had thought it was one of their neighbor’s cats, the old woman a few houses down who owned a veritable army of feline companions having recently procured two more cat cadets. But on the fourth day, he had walked out of the house to check if they had gotten any mail only to find a large raccoon with its throat slashed open, blood seeping out onto the doormat that they had just replaced.

No matter how fierce those cats were, he doubted they could do such gruesome damage. And so, he had begun considering other culprits who may have been leaving the dead animals.

It had started with a dead bird, a blue jay lying on the top step of their front porch. Stiles had found it while leaving for school in the morning, taking a few minutes out of his morning rush to bury the poor thing in the front yard before heading off to school. He figured it had simply keeled over in exhaustion, no obvious injuries save for a few molted feathers, and moved on.

The next day he had found two dead squirrels, deep claw marks raked down their sides, on the front porch. He had wrinkled his nose at the grisly sight, running back inside to grab a plastic bag to shove them in before tossing them into another shallow grave by the blue jay. That was when he began having the sneaking suspicion that a cat was responsible for the morbid little deliveries.

The day after the squirrels, he found the rabbit. Its throat was open, a hole about the size of a cat’s mouth oozing bright scarlet blood onto the doormat, absolutely ruining it. Groaning, and internally cursing crazy cat people, Stiles held his nose and cleaned up the scene, again burying the poor victim and dumping the doormat into their trash can.

The raccoon was next, sullying the new welcome mat that Stiles had picked up after his last class the day before. Curiously inspecting the raccoon, finding wounds too large to have been inflicted by a cat, Stiles had reached another, new conclusion ― there was some new supernatural threat in Beacon Hills and it was killing poor, defenseless animals and dumping them on Stiles’ porch.

Why he didn’t know, but it was the only feasible thing he could think of. He had taken his theory to others, asking around to see if anyone else had noticed anything strange lately. No one else had.

He had gone to Deaton at the vet clinic to ask if he had any information about anything weird going on with any of the local animals. Deaton had denied that anything unusual was going on with any animals, neither domestic or otherwise, for once actually foregoing any cryptic responses. Though, he did mention that parvo was more common than usual that year.

After talking to Deaton, he went to Chris Argent, figuring the ex-hunter would have information on any supernatural goings-on that Deaton did not know about. Argent didn’t know anything either, indulging Stiles’ curious nature and patiently answering his strange inquisitions with as much patience as someone who had been woken up at four thirty a.m. could muster.

Afterward, he had dropped in to visit his dad at the station, hoping that it wasn’t just happening to them, even though it would be just his luck. The Sheriff let him rifle through recent reports of strange, out of the ordinary activities but all he found were reports filed about suspicious looking teenagers hanging around outside of local convenience stores. There had been no reports of rabies, either, dashing another one of Stiles’ theories.

And, of course, he had gone to the pack as soon as he began to suspect that the dead animals may have a more sinister origin than simply falling prey to some pet cat roaming the neighbor. No one in the pack had noticed anything amiss, no supernatural threats or random dead animals on any doorsteps.

Peter had made some snide little comment about Valentine’s Day coming up soon, pointing out that Stiles probably had a psychopathic secret admirer who thought that leaving dead animals on his porch was the epitome of romance. With Stiles’ luck, it was a disturbingly real possibility, one he wouldn’t discount.

The other betas had dissolved into a bout of raucous laughter, even Boyd chuckling under his breath at the comment, but Stiles hadn’t been very amused. Rolling his eyes at the remark, Stiles had noticed that the tips of Derek’s ears had been burning bright red, a sure sign that the alpha was blushing at something. Probably due to secondhand embarrassment, Stiles figured.

Now, there he was, standing on his front porch in his Spiderman pajamas, looking down at that day’s little ‘gift’ ― a twelve point buck, lying dead on the walkway in front of the porch, a large hole in its chest. Ripped out of the buck’s ripped, its bloody heart lay on the front porch just inches from his bare foot, a single red rose laid beside it.

He almost threw up.

Holding back gags, feeling the bile rise in his throat as his eyes watered, Stiles pulled his phone out of the pocket of his pajama pants and dialed Derek’s number, fumbling a few times while typing in the digits. He tapped his foot while waiting for Derek to pick up the phone, hoping the werewolf had his cell phone on him, aware of the fact that he sometimes left it at the loft when he went for his morning run through the preserve.

“Hello?” Derek answered a moment before the call would have gone to voicemail, voice rough and gravelly with sleep. Stiles sighed gratefully at the sound of Derek’s voice, relief washing over him.

“There’s another,” Stiles reported pitifully, a whine in his voice as he lamented his situation, hands clutching his phone tighter. With a disgusted glance at the deer’s carcass, he felt his stomach turn, desperately relaying, “Dude, it’s a deer this time. A fucking deer! I just― I think I’m gonna be sick… Can you come over and help take care of this? Please?”

“Sure,” Derek replied evenly, his tone calm and placating like he was trying to soothe a frantic animal. Given Stiles’ panicked state, the comparison wasn’t all that far off, in fact, it was actually rather fitting considering the situation. He was drawn out of his musings when Derek tacked on a weary, “Just give me a minute. I’ll be there soon.”

“Thank you,” Stiles breathed in relief, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose as he listened to Derek hang up. Shivering when he accidentally made eye contact with the dead buck, Stiles slipped back inside, infinitely glad that it was Saturday and he wouldn’t be missing any school because of his theoretical psycho secret admirer.

He waited patiently by the front window in the kitchen, sitting perched on the edge of the counter by the sink, swinging his legs over the side of the counter as he chewed his nails down to the quick while waiting for Derek to get there. He was so fixated on watching the street in front of the house for Derek’s Camaro, still frazzled from the ghastly sight on the porch, that he nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard his dad walk into the kitchen behind him and greet, “Morning, son.”

Flailing and tumbling off the edge of the counter, Stiles squawked in surprise and pure, visceral fear, for a split second terrified that whoever, or whatever, had been leaving the dead animals had somehow gotten into the house. He had been watching too many horror movies lately, it was making him paranoid. Well, more paranoid than usual.

“Jesus fucking Christ!” He gasped in shock, clutching a hand to his chest as his dad muffled his amused laughter behind the back of his hand, shoulders shaking as he watched his son straighten up to stand on shaky legs. Running a hand through his hair, Stiles whipped his head around to glare at his father who was still laughing, snapping at him, “A little warning next time!”

“Didn’t know I needed to warn you when I walk into the room,” his dad snarked, crossing the room to open one of the wood cabinets above the linoleum countertop, grabbing a mug for his morning coffee. He visibly stifled a yawn as he shuffled over to their old coffee maker, a steaming pot of strong roast ready courtesy of Stiles who could barely go two straight days without caffeine, pouring himself a cup. Taking a sip of his black coffee, he asked, “So, we get a new one today?”

Stiles just nodded, scrubbing a hand over his face, not wanting to go into particular detail about the utterly lovely scene on their front lawn. Just thinking about it was enough to make him feel a bit queasy. Sighing, he simply claimed, “Yeah. Derek’s coming over to help me deal with it.”

“That why he’s parked out front looking like he’s here to pick you up for the prom?”

“What?” Stiles mumbled, turning his back around to peer out the kitchen window, indeed seeing Derek’s unmistakable Camaro parked out front, sleek black paint job shining in the morning sun. Sitting in the driver’s seat, Derek was fiddling with the steering wheel, looking like he was psyching himself up to tackle some unconquerable task.

Stiles figured the werewolf had caught sight of the bloody body of the buck and was a little bit horrified by the needless bloodshed. Though, why seeing a dead deer would have a bigger effect on him than seeing the dead bodies of the various supernatural creatures they slayed, Stiles didn’t know.

Steeling himself for seeing said dead deer again, Stiles saluted his dad and made his way to the front door, slipping out into the porch to greet Derek. Adamantly avoiding looking at the dead ungulate, Stiles waved Derek over, sure he was even paler than usual if that was somehow possible.

Derek climbed out of the Camaro, rounding it to jog up the front walk until he reached the dead deer, accidentally stepping into a pool of coagulated blood. He looked down at the buck with an indecipherable expression, no emotion whatsoever on his face, even his eyes blank.

After a long moment of painfully awkward silence, both of them staring at the slain deer’s lifeless body, Derek raised his head to look at Stiles. Voice gruff, he demanded, “You don’t like it?”

Wait, what? Was Derek seriously asking him if he liked the dead deer some crazy wacko had left on his doorstep? Seriously? Stiles’ voice revealed his incredulity as he gaped, “Of course, I don’t like it! It’s a dead deer for god’s sake! Who in their right mind would like it?! I mean, the rose and the heart were a nice touch but― That’s not the point! The point is, no, I don’t like it! Are you crazy?!”

“You could’ve just said you didn’t like it,” Derek growled out, curling his hands into fists at his side as he glowered at Stiles, a scowl planted firmly on his lips. “You didn’t have to insult me.”

“What?!” Stiles screeched, eyes wide as he gawked at Derek, his mind running a mile a minute as he tried to decipher how exactly he had managed to offend Derek. Eyes darting between Derek and the dead deer, Stiles groaned, “Insult you?! How the fuck did I insult you?! I just don’t like waking up to dead animals on my front porch! How in the hell is that insulting to you―” he cut himself off, pausing as the realization dawned on him “―Oh my god. You. It’s you.”

Ducking his head, ears burning again, Derek nodded silently and scuffed the tip of his shoe against the dirt in the front lawn, nearly kicking the dead deer. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket and continued sulking, a frown on his face as he glared down at the buck as though it had done something awful to him.

Stiles broke the awkward silence by softly asking, “But why…?”

“It was supposed to be romantic,” Derek grit out in a growl, every word sounding like it pained him more than the last, a deep crease between his brows as he refused to meet Stiles’ eyes for even a second. Running a rough hand through his hair, Derek squeezed his eyes shut and accused, “But you humans are weird! You do things―” he paused in frustration as though wrestling with his choice of words, eventually snarling, “―different!”

“Romantic? Different?” Stiles repeated to himself, frowning as he attempted to figure out just what the hell Derek meant. Jaw nearly dropping a moment later when another realization struck him, he squeaked, “Wait, have you been trying to woo me? With dead animals?!”

“Yes,” Derek spat, crossing his arms over his broad chest. Brows still drawn together, he elaborated, “It’s how werewolves court each other! It shows we can provide for each other. Can take of each other.”

“Oh my god, you’re such an idiot,” Stiles sighed fondly, rolling his eyes at Derek’s utter stupidity. Bracing himself with a deep breath before he could over-think his next move, he stepped over the deer, just barely avoiding stepping into a large puddle of blood, to wrap his arms around Derek’s neck and tug him into a kiss.

Derek was slow to respond, Stiles stuck kissing a pair of rigid, unmoving lips until he did. Stiles was about to pull away, worried he might have somehow misread things, despite the fact that Derek had very clearly confirmed he had been wooing him, when Derek finally kissed him back.

Unfolding his arms, he slipped them around Stiles’ waist to reel him in a little closer, molding their bodies together with a soft sound of satisfaction in the back of his throat. Stiles smiled into the kiss at Derek’s eagerness, relaxing into the werewolf’s strong arms, trusting Derek to hold him up.

Gently scraping his fingers over the back of Derek’s neck, Stiles deepened the kiss a bit, gingerly sweeping the tip of his tongue over Derek’s bottom lip, hoping he wasn’t moving too fast. Derek hummed, tightening his hold on Stiles’ waist while he opened his mouth to flick his tongue against Stiles’, nibbling his lower lip.

Before things could get too out of hand, Stiles itching to bury his fingers in Derek’s hair and really kiss him, he realized that they were standing in the middle of his front lawn at six a.m., kissing each other beside the lifeless body of a slaughtered deer. Pulling back a little bit, pressing his forehead against Derek’s to let him know that he wasn’t going anywhere, Stiles fondly sighed, murmuring, “Y’know, chocolates and flowers would’ve worked just fine.”

“Duly noted,” Derek smirked, moving in for another, deeper kiss. Stiles rolled his eyes but accepted the kiss anyway, eyes falling closed as he melted into Derek’s arms even more.

Hopefully, this would be the last time he found a dead animal on his doorstep. But with Derek, he wasn’t holding his breath.

💕VALENTINE’S DAY FIC GIVEAWAY💕

[halinski]

@bashfyl (imma keep trying till it works) Dude, I once watched Undrafted 3 times in a single day! I loooove that movie. All the characters, the way it's only a few hours but it makes up a whole movie??? And Tyler gaaah beautiful