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shifting-lark · 2 years

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Listen y'all... ever since I successfully shifted, my hyperfixation on One Piece has increased EXPONENTIALLY. It's insane how much more connected I feel to the world and the characters in it.

So anyway these pictures of my crew family are making me cry tears of joy. I love them so much. I miss them 💔

(first picture is by artist @_ceceru on Twitter!!! I unfortunately couldn't find the second artist, please tag them if you know!!!)

#one piece dr #my family 😭😭😭#i have so much love in my heart #for these idiot pirates #my dr #shifting reality shifting #anime #lark #kinda shifting #art #NOT MY ART #one piece fanart #hyperfixation

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that-kidshifts · 2 years

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So it seems I might be more active here so I’m gonna change a few things up with my intro

Hello! I’m Alcor/Beta, I’m a minor living in eastern America, I am a sophomore in high school. I love shitty fanfic, being a chaotic goblin, and shifting quite a bit. I use he/they pronouns although that is susceptible to change. I’m a dumbass. I’m not open to romantic relationships although friendships are alright(idk why I added that I just felt as if it was needed ahkdhsk) I’m what I like to call a “shiftblr veteran” because it sounds cool and I’ve been here a while. This blog is an absolute dumpster fire but do feel free to follow me. Keep in mind I am part of a mixed origin system that may or may not be endogenic (we aren’t very sure because our origin is super weird.) we don’t accept syscourse, transmeds, people who don’t believe in shifting, or anti kin, or just any asses in general. Don’t be a dick, you’ll get a hard block. I do not support resp*wning or anything among the sorts. If you are someone over 18 who doesn’t want to interact with minors don’t follow me. It’s pretty obvious I’m a minor especially in my earlier posts.

Okay, now we got all the slimy stuff out of the way what about my shifting journey? Well, I started shifting around November 2020 when I first encountered it on Tik Tok, I immediately tried to shift to MHA as one of my ocs, Maggatta, although I didn’t go by that name as I went by Beta. I had a friend at the time who recommended shiftblr to me as a more reliable source and I started up my blog which at the time was called “randomthingsandsuch” and thus, my shiftblr journey began. I came, I didn’t piss in any ball pits and I did not conquer. But I had some good fucking fun doing it. I had really vivid dreams and I’ve shifted very short periods before. Although I’ve never ever truly been able to stay in one place for over a second it’s still be a phenomenal journey. I’ve tried shifting to The Network Series, MHA(semi successful), DSMP, TAU, Gravity Falls, and many more, but I’ve found myself to be more successful with my waiting rooms. So I kept shifting there, and I was pretty successful as I was getting there almost monthly, but only for a second. Then I met one of my closest friends now, (Formerly known as Haven) Omen, and after that I started shifting less and less. I still did it but I was wayyyy happier now than I was before so I didn’t need to shift, it’s a hobby now to me, not a long vacation escape. So that’s where I am now, this blog is an archive sort of but I will try to post occasionally.

Keep in mind I don’t have a computer and mobile sucks so I might not have the best spelling or grammar. Anywho. My new DRs are Gravity Falls, TAU, a god dr, a dr where I’m a demon, and equestria girls(yes I know it’s kinda stupid but it’s really fun imo.) my askbox is always open, my dms are open as well, if you ever need a shoulder to cry on I’m here, and a fun drinking game for my blog would be to take a shot anytime I screw up spelling a word. Enjoy your time here <3

#shiftblr intro six #beta makes text #ceo of anyways #should I tag this shiftblr #shiftblr #fuck it I did it #kinda shifting

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hogwartsfirebolt · 2 months

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the game’s the game

“What was going through your mind when you spotted the Snitch?”

Two camera shutters go off like lighting, but Draco doesn’t blink. It’s almost the end of the season, and he’s done a press conference every week. He’s used to them.

“Fucking finally,” he answers, and the journalists all laugh. They think he’s joking, and he can already imagine the articles they’ll publish tomorrow pronouncing him cheeky and funny, but he means it wholeheartedly. Six hours in the sky, drenched all the way through his pants in rainwater, and facing the very best player in the league? He had half a mind to jump off his broom if only to have the game end somehow.

“This is the second time you face PU and well, Harry Potter, this season,” says another reporter, a young, pretty woman with her hair pinned up and a reverent tone when she speaks Potter’s name. Like everyone. “Are you expecting to encounter him at this year’s Cup? And if so, how does that make you feel?”

Draco breathes out hard through his nose. Across the room from him, sitting at his own table against the wall opposite, Potter’s doing his own press conference. He’s wearing a hat backwards, the light blue of his team hoodie contrasting with his golden-warm skin tone. He has a hand to his chin, rubbing his short beard in thought at some question he’s being asked. Probably about just how sweet it had been to snatch that Snitch right from under Draco’s nose. He’s earnest and so gorgeous Draco can’t stand the sight of him.

“The game is the game,” Harry’s voice carries, clear and chesty, deeply masculine as he says his favorite little quote that means absolutely nothing and that fans have been yelling and tattooing on their bodies the whole season. “We don’t take any victory for granted. Coach has been running us to the ground, she won’t stop until we have that trophy in Puddlemere, and we’re doing our best to make her proud.”

“Oh, I’m certain we’ll face them at the Cup,” is what Draco answers at last. “Honestly? I think no other team comes even close. We’ll face them, and then we’ll bring the Cup home to Appleby. As Potter himself likes to say, the game is the game.”

All the cameras around him go off, the sound of Quick-Quills scrabbling and the reporters’ scandalized gasps at his use of Potter’s quote. He grins, puts his olive green Arrows cap on and stands to leave. He needs a fucking shower.

Later on, he’s sprawled on his hotel room couch, drying his hair with a towel and watching a replay of the game on the enormous television, making mental notes about his own flying, his mistakes, the times he dove too soon or hovered too low. When the screen follows the blue jersey with POTTER 7 emblazoned across the back, he looks closely, trying to spot mistakes but knowing he won’t find any. Potter’s probably the best flier of the century, and Draco loves Quidditch too much to lie to himself about that.

He’s admiring one of Potter’s physics-defying feints when there’s a knock on his door. Immediately, his heart takes up a gallop, and he has to press a hand to the center of his chest with a frown.

“Calm the fuck down, Malfoy,” he mutters. It’s a disproportionate reaction and he’s irritated with himself for it. It’s not as though it’s the first time. Or the tenth.

He pauses the game with a flick of his wand and makes his way to the door, through the archway that separates the TV room from the kitchenette. A quick look at the archway across the suite to make sure the bedroom is as he left it, and he’s at the door, taking a deep breath.

Potter’s grin is huge when Draco opens. He’s foregone all his team outwear, and is now in a familiar, worn leather jacket and a black sweater. His hair is wet, as though he rushed after his shower so he could get here quicker. Draco opens his mouth to say something, but before he figures out what, Harry pushes inside, turns around and presses him against the door, big hands gentle on Draco’s waist. Draco’s heart hasn’t gotten the “this isn’t the first or tenth time this happens,” memo, and is still running a marathon inside his chest, so he says nothing.

There’s a plastic bag in Potter’s hands. Dinner, probably, he usually brings dinner when they meet after a game. His wide smile reveals white teeth, a crooked canine that Draco knows is a baby tooth that never loosened. Round, stylish glasses cover the most intoxicating green eyes Draco has ever seen, and they’re shining with tonight’s victory. And Draco might be — definitely is — the world’s sorest loser, but he’s also the world’s biggest slut for Quidditch excellence, and he has it right here, holding him against his hotel room door.

“The game is the game?” Harry asks, amused, already leaning in, the hand on Draco’s waist moving to wrap the whole way around him and pull him close.

“Just some stupid phrase I’ve heard from a dickhead,” Draco answers, but the words hold the shape of a smile and are uttered right into a kiss there at the end.

It’s always a race at the start. They're both high from the game, still in that mindset, and it’s a competition to see who can undress quicker, who can make the other harder, who can earn the first moan and coax the first orgasm of the night. But after that first one, after Draco’s jaw aches dully and Potter is softening between his legs, everything slows down a little. Potter helps him up and they share the tacos Potter brought, watching the last minutes of the game they played earlier with Draco’s legs up on Potter’s lap, where he’s massaging his knees, his quads, making sure he’s not achy from kneeling for him.

“I really fucked that one up,” Potter comments. His tiny self on the screen just pulled out of an impossible dive at what looks like a 90 degree angle. He sounds earnest, which is the only reason Draco isn’t kicking him right in his beautiful face.

“I hate you so much. Only you would call that a fuck up.”

Potter hums, his massaging hands moving from Draco’s calf to his heel, his thumb pressing into his sole. On the screen, tiny Draco swerves a Bludger aimed to his head, and his teammate Owen is flying to him to make sure he’s alright.

“That guy is so into you,” Potter points out.

“I know. We fucked all through rookie year.”

Potter turns to look at him so fast it must hurt his neck. Draco raises an eyebrow, confused at the strong reaction.

“What?”

“I — I don’t know,” Potter says, suddenly sheepish. His hands haven’t stopped moving over Draco’s foot. Potter’s skin is dark, but Draco can still make out the blush spreading across his cheekbones. “Isn’t it weird? He’s a teammate.”

There’s something he’s not saying. It’s evident in the way he bites his bottom lip, in the way he obviously wants to look away but is too ridiculously brave to actually do it. Draco’s heart thumps inside his chest, so hard he’s sure it must be audible to Harry too.

They’ve never named this thing between them. The first time they did it, after the quarter finals one year before, with Potter’s ill advised kiss that ended with them fucking in the showers of the stadium after Potter had wiped the damn dust with Draco on the pitch, they agreed to keep it quiet, and that was the last they discussed of it. It’s going on fourteen months since then, and they’ve done it at least once a month, when the league brings them to nearby towns, and sometimes when it doesn’t and they take a quick midnight Portkey to each other to blow off some steam.

Draco had never in his life been as well-fucked as he’s been this past year, and he definitely doesn’t want to lose it. Potter’s always been honest and open with him, vocal in bed about how much he wants him, filthy in his occasional text messages when they’re apart, but he’s never given any indication that he wants anything other than exactly what they have.

“It’s not weird,” Draco says slowly, unsure of what to think of this exchange. “We stopped a while ago. I was clear that I didn’t want — that I’d rather we stayed friends and teammates, without any complications.”

“Right,” Potter says. He sounds relieved, and Draco feels like he’s three steps behind the conversation they’re having. He’s about to ask, but Potter’s fingers on his calf smooth over an old knot and he groans instead, letting his head fall back onto the couch cushion.

“That feels great,” he says, and Potter repeats the motion.

“Yeah. I think you pulled it when you made that X turn.”

The turn he made to try to beat him to the Snitch, he doesn’t say. How he had enough awareness to know Draco attempted it while diving for the Snitch himself is beyond comprehension, but Draco has long accepted that Potter is simply insane about the game. He notices everything, considers everything, takes every risk. If he weren’t a player himself, Draco knows he would be following Puddlemere and Harry wherever they played for the entire season, wearing a pale blue jersey with the number 7 on it.

“Probably,” Draco says, closing his eyes and groaning again when Harry keeps pressing the same point. After a moment, he feels something softer brushing his calf, and opens his eyes to find Harry bent over his leg, kissing a path up towards his knee. He can’t help the embarrassing little sound he makes, and Harry’s laugh is a puff against his skin as he keeps moving up, breath warm on the wet trail of his kisses up Draco’s thigh. In the background, the presenters are going crazy over a feint Harry pulled, the sound of the audience carrying all through the stadium and out of the TV speakers.

Harry has made his way high up and is kissing Draco’s birthmark, a brown, apple-sized beauty mark an inch below his groin when he lifts his head to ask, “Why didn’t you want to?”

Draco can’t believe he’s using his mouth to speak at that moment. He licks his lips, trying to make sense of the question.

“What? What are you even — ?” He tries to sit up a little, but Harry moves over him instead so they’re eye-level without Draco having to move at all.

“With Caddell. Why didn’t you want to keep seeing him?”

“Owen? Why the fuck are we talking about —,” Draco lets his head drop down onto the cushions again, a sigh punched out of him. Harry takes pity and leans forward to kiss him, lips soft over Draco’s, knowing exactly how to coax his kisses out of him the way he likes best.

“I just want to know,” Harry whispers against his lips. He’s breathless just from touching Draco, from rubbing his legs, from kissing him. Fuck, this is insane.

“I like him, but it wasn’t very exciting.” Draco says. He closes his eyes as Harry begins to kiss down his neck, and tries to really think about it, because he’s not even sure himself. “I wasn’t willing to risk our teamwork when what we had wasn’t even that … electric. I don’t know. This sounds insane.”

Harry shakes his head, his beard rubbing against Draco’s collarbone. “It doesn’t. I get it.” He bites on the delicate skin connecting neck and shoulder, licks a path down his chest. “I get electric.”

“Fuck yes you do,” Draco says, nonsensical, but he feels he can’t be blamed when Harry is brushing his lips over his nipples, broad hands moving around Draco’s body to secure a grip over his ass.

“Is this?” Harry asks, mouth nearing the V of Draco’s hips, the edge of the trail of hair leading to his crotch. “Electric?”

Draco swears, fingers running through Harry’s hair and finding a grip, hard. “If you don’t put your mouth on me right now I swear I — yes.”

He spreads his thighs to accommodate Harry between them, one hand gripping Harry’s hair and the other curled around the cushion over his head. It is electric, the way Harry knows exactly which buttons to push, sliding a finger inside him while keeping him on his tongue. He’s a prodigy in this too, the star player who knows every move in the playbook that is Draco’s body.

It feels like no time at all, no effort at all before Harry is pulling back, dragging Draco closer by the waist and working himself inside. The feel of it, the sound of them together, the look into Harry’s open gaze, his sweat dripping onto Draco’s chest and his hands underneath Draco’s back, holding him, pulling him onto him, have Draco nearing release almost too fast for his liking, but the night is young and it’s been so long that he lets himself go, a cord snapping in his core, eyes open as he watches Harry watch him come apart.

“Come on,” he says once he’s come down, lifting his hips, shifting his weight onto his shoulders. “Show me what you got, Potter.”

Harry groans and leans forward, kisses Draco’s jaw and his neck, and drives his hips faster. Draco wraps his arms around Harry’s back, moves with him as much as he can in the tight embrace, and remains close as Harry meets his own peak and tumbles down the edge.

They lie together for a couple minutes afterwards, panting into each other’s skins, basking in the afterglow.

“Some pro-athletes. We have the stamina of two eighteen year old virgins,” Draco mutters into Harry’s hair after a while, and feels Harry’s chest rumble with his laughter. The room is cast in the warm glow of the foot-lamp that stands beside the sofa they just fucked in, exactly like two eighteen year old virgins having the chance to touch for the first time in their lives.

Harry always goes boneless and slow after a good lay, so Draco eases him off his body with tenderness, a gentle hand to Harry’s chest, followed by a kiss.

“Let's go to bed, yeah?” He whispers.

Harry groans. “I don’t want to move.”

“That’s too bad, because I’m exhausted and I’m going to bed. Some idiot drove me to the ground on the pitch today.”

He stands up and shakes out his legs, testing the soreness of his muscles. There’ll be an ache tomorrow, but nothing he can’t handle.

Despite his complaint, Harry is already standing up too, coming up behind Draco, a hand finding its way to the flat of his belly, his forehead on Draco’s shoulder as though he can’t bear not to touch him for even a second.

“Bed it is,” he declares against the skin of Draco’s shoulder, sounding halfway asleep already. Draco huffs a laugh and pulls him towards the bedroom, pausing at the kitchenette to grab two glasses of water that he watches Harry drink in three gulps, a couple drops sliding down the sides of his mouth, into his beard and down his neck, his Adam’s apple bobbing.

“What?” He asks when he catches Draco watching him, and Draco shakes his head and pulls him to bed. He’s so handsome it’s genuinely upsetting sometimes. Draco thinks he’d throw a tantrum about it daily if it weren’t for the fact that he gets to touch him.

They try their best, but they don’t manage a second round before their eyes fall shut, tucked into each other like two hands cupped under a stream of water, tumbling into a satisfied, exhausted sleep.

Harry wakes him with a kiss before daybreak, the last of the night chilling the room and puckering Draco’s skin.

“Do you have to go already?” Draco asks, one eye still closed and a hand curled possessively around Harry’s bicep, not entirely on purpose.

Harry shakes his head, kisses him again with a gentleness that is meant to go nowhere but extend this kiss, warm and sweet.

“I thought we could talk.”

Draco is nodding before fully grasping the meaning, but even once he does he’s not tempted to back away. Must be the night, still cocooning them, must be Harry’s arms around him that are making him brave, but he’s not nervous anymore, not now that he’s remembered what they’re like, together.

“It is electric,” he says, suspecting that’s what Harry wants to talk about. “It’s always electric with you.”

The smile blooms slowly, lighting up Harry’s face from within, his beautiful eyes, unhidden this early in the morning, his glasses still on the bedside table. Harry sits up a little, clears his throat. It seems like he’s been gearing up for this, he’s squaring his shoulders the way he does before trying a dangerous feint, before performing a play that will have Draco biting dust. This insane, wonder of an athlete. Draco forces himself to shake the last of the sleep away, to focus on him, on what he wants to say.

“I know that … so many of us want you,” Harry starts. “On your team, on mine, the whole league, actually. But I —”

He looks like he’s stating an absolute truth, like he has irrefutable proof, and Draco is taken aback. He knows some of the guys find him attractive, but that’s not the same as being wanted. He shakes his head. “What? Where did you get that?”

“I’ve talked about it with the guys, but that’s not the point,” he adds hurriedly when he sees his eyes widen. Draco hasn’t said a word to anyone, not out of shame, but out of sureness that they were sneaking around, that they were making it a point to hide. Apparently, he was wrong. Harry continues, “What I want to say is … I know we’ve not agreed on anything, that you’re free to want others, be with whoever you want to be with. I thought that you knew where I stood, that if you weren’t saying anything it was because you didn’t want the same thing I did, but it’s been brought to my attention that if I’ve not made an honest offer, I can’t assume you’re saying no.”

Draco’s heart is hammering inside his chest, inside his throat. He doesn’t want to jump to conclusions, but if he’s right, it seems Harry is saying …

“I don’t want this to be a once a month thing. I want to bring you home, I want you to meet my family, and I want the guys to know that I’m saying no to all the people they set me up with because I’m taken and completely uninterested in anyone else. Are you … is that something you want, too? I know you might have better offers, but I – ”

The covers crinkle under Draco’s knees as he sits up, throws a leg over Harry’s body so he can fully sit on his lap and brings him forward by the neck.

“You beautiful idiot. What could be a better offer? Why would I care about any other offers when I have the best one right here?”

They’re kissing, and Harry’s gasping, and Draco’s frenzied heart pounds against his sternum. He nods into the kiss, feels dizzy with how much he wants what’s being offered. Fuck. There’s nothing he wants more.

Harry pulls back a little, whispers: “Does this mean we’re — ?”

“Yes, fuck. It’s — The game’s the game.”

“What — That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Shut up. It’s your quote.”

Then they’re laughing into a new kiss, and it’s not the first, or even the tenth time they’re together like this, but Draco’s heart still goes crazy for this man, for his unlimited talent, his openness, his electric company. Quarter finals are coming up, then semis, then they might meet again on the pitch and Draco might lose and throw a strop and want to tear the hair out of his head over the beautiful Quidditch Harry plays, and then they’ll get to go home and celebrate a victory. No matter who takes the trophy. That’ll be the game.

Read On Ao3

#quidditch rivals but ohh they’re secret lovers bet NOBODY saw that coming #kinda unsure about the tone shift at the end but ITS LATE I’m sorry ok #I just wanted earnest Harry which is MY FAVORITW THING #drarry #drarry fic #Draco Malfoy #Harry Potter #my writing #mywriting

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cocozydiaries · 16 days

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what’s the most useless (to everyone else) or maybe weirdest thing you’ve scripted?

this post is an excuse for me to tell you guys i scripted i’m good at roblox obbies into most of my Drs that have internet access because i suck at them here

#cocoqotd #this question is kinda lazy #srry #wanted to talk about roblox #can i have a minute of ur day to talk about roblox #shiftblr #reality shift #shifting realities #reality shifting #shifting #desired reality #reality shifters #shifters #shifting script #reality shifter #shifter

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the-writing-goblin · 7 months

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I am once again thinking about how good the story of the second age is, and all the fun things you could do with an actually decent adaptation. Consider:

Galadriel should be exactly the same as she is in Lord of the Rings. She is older, weirder and more powerful than any elf other elf in Middle Earth. Other elves are just as unnerved by her as mortals, and dealing with her is stressful at the best of times.

Elrond should be an absolute infant. Just, complete baby face. But everyone treats him super respectfully and he has a lot of power and influence. The energy should be the same as when the super ancient and powerful vampire or faerie or whatever looks like a ten year old girl.

ALSO there should be a tall, menacing elf with visible tattoo and facial scars who just. Stands behind Elrond looking intimidating all the time. The least elf-looking elf ever. All the other elves are uncomfortable around them. Elrond should treat them like their an Aunt or Uncle. The elf is one of the few surviving hard-line Feanorians, all of whom follow Elrond. The longer you can go without explaining this, the better.

Gil-Galad is very tired, and spends a lot of time balancing one of the most famously unstable political systems in all of Arda. Galadriel and Elrond both have factions they support to strongly to be relied on to be impartial. The reason he doesn't worry much about what Celebrimbor's up to is that he's the one member of the family who is highly unlikely to attempt something batshit nuts, and his followers are mostly moderate.

Celebrimbor and Annatar/Sauron should spend the whole series playing complicated mindgames with each other.

Annatar is playing four-dimensional chess from the beginning. For him, this is an all or nothing gamble. If he can't make the rings he won't have the power to seize control on his own. He should spend a lot of time having Light Yagami-level monologues where he tries to figure out what game Celebrimbor is playing while outwardly pretending to be harmless and normal and only succeeding at this about 75% of the time.

Celebrimbor should start of thinking the stakes are considerably lower. Like... is Annatar hiding something? Yea, but he figures Annatar doesn't actually have permission from the Valar to be here or something. Not, ya know, Annatar is secretly Satan in disguise. In the first act there should be an almost comical disconnect between the amount of energy Sauron is putting in to these mind games versus Celebrimbor.

Bonus points if as Celebrimbor figures out the truth, you intersperse more and more of his family backstory. The guilt he is still carrying for a lot the things that happened in the first age. Early on bring in the fact that Finrod went into Sauron's jaws alone and it was Curufin's fault, use this as angst material. And then as he figures out who Sauron really is, drop Maedhros and Thangorodrim in like a nuclear bomb.

Because Celebrimbor has seen this play before, and he knows what Sauron does to people. It wasn't even personal then, what Sauron is going to do to him will be so much worse.

And Celebrimbor chooses to forge the three rings anyway. He doesn't give up their locations, even with everything Sauron does to him at the end. And that should be devestating.

#silmarillion #rings of power #kinda #sort of the opposite of rings of power #celebrimbor #annatar #elrond #gil galad #wild tonal shifts in this post #oh well #I think this story should have wild tonal shifts tbh #I am unwell about these elves #lotr

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uncanny-tranny · 7 months

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I love (sarcasm) that the two options for working when disabled are:

1. Work at the risk of (permanently) disabling yourself further. Go home to a paycheck that won't cover much, but at least you have money. Fight the urge to cry when you're home because you're in so much pain and you can't do basic things anymore

2. Don't work. You'll be in just as much pain, plus you will have even less money. Getting a disability check probably won't cover anything, but chin up! A single dollar is better than no dollar, right?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?

Nobody should be forced to make the decision to work or starve, but there's an added layer of torture when your body literally cannot handle these options. My heart goes out to us all, the world can change for the better

#disability #ableism #ableism tw #i'm still in pain after this shift i am feeling so fucking pissed #NEITHER of these are necessarily a 'privilege' and there are layers to this fucked-up cake #having money is better than having no money. but nobody should have to put their lives on the line because there is no. other. option.#i'm glad i can work but i'm so afraid of my body and my safety and my future. i'm scared that i'm only going to Get Worse because of work #every disabled person on government support should get $60004737 as their funds for the month #also point two is sarcastic are the end if that wasn't clear #kinda scared for my future ngl! 👍👍

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shifting-lark · 2 years

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Hello again lark! I think this is the fourth (?) time I’ve sent you an ask sense it seems you’ve gone inactive, it’s kinda late and I got finals soon but I’ve been Thinking about you and shiftblr recently and I just wanted to let you know that the impact you’ve made on me and my mental health was so tremendous Lark. I’ve started shifting less and less but I’ve found some really good friends and I’m a lot more comfortable with myself than I was a year or so ago, I cleaned my room for the first time in two years in February and I got rid of all my shitty clothes, and I’d just like to thank you, for being there for me when I couldn’t take care of myself, and reminding me to drink water and eat, and being supportive of my new pronouns. All of it. I love you so much Lark/p and I really do hope wherever you are you’re living the best life I could ever hope for. Drink water, stay safe, and if you need anything I’m here. Thank you <3

Oaks!!!! 🥹🥹 you have no idea how happy this makes my heart!!!!!! (Brb crying tears of a proud shiftblr mom)

I always try to be a positive force and always want to help people whenever they are struggling. I am SO proud of you! For cleaning your room but also just for being you!!

Shiftblr has changed my life forever. Even if I'm not as active on here and don't talk to y'all as much, every single one of you have touched my heart. Truly deeply y'all mean the world to me and I cannot express that enough. /gen

Thank you for this ask and I am so glad I could help you in that way 💚

Have an AMAZING day and always drink your water!!

#lark asks #oaks #mutual #shiftblr fam #shiftblr mutuals #kinda shifting #not really #tw tone tags #friends #i love y'all /p #cant say it enough #so happy to have met y'all #mutual asks #shiftblr

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aflamboyanceofflamingos · 3 months

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The batkids arguing over who has had the worst injuries and when Jason inevitability brings up the fact that he’s died they start arguing over who’s had the worst death

Bruce is having a aneurysm

#Tim just kinda #walked away #after the conversation shifted #tim drake #dick grayson #jason todd #stephaine brown #duke thomas #damian wayne #cassandra cain #bruce wayne #batfam

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homemadesterekpie · 1 year

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this art but its baby Stiles encountering Alpha Talia Hale in the preserve and she’s on the tail of two hunters but she got distracted by the scent of this tiny thing of a human who’s all alone in the preserve.

she’s so surprised she doesn’t even change back and they stare at eachother until Stiles just giggles and points to a spot to his left. Talia scents towards where he’s pointing and yep she can smell the hunters. they probably got distracted by the child too and tried to hide as best they could.

Talia approaches the child slowly and makes sure his scent stays without fear. when she gets to him she nudges the child so he turns around, facing away from the hunters. she then leaves him to deal with the hunters, quick and quiet. they can deal with their bodies later.

she walks back to the child who obediently stayed in the position she left him in. this time when she gets close the child lifts his tiny arms up in the general “pick me up” gesture and Talia picks him up in her big wolf like arms and the boy immediately settles his head on her shoulder and she rumbles a low sound, the one she makes when she’s putting her own cubs to sleep or to sooth them. this poor boy’s parents must be worried sick. better to get him home as soon as possible.