whiskyrivers

[whiskyrivers]

My second favourite ship, with steter being first. A third place would be stetopher. When I'm looking for fics to read I'll usually bounce between these three pairings.

@takaraphoenix writes THE BEST stetopher fics I've ever read. So if you haven't read the pairing and see something by her, PLEASE give it a read, it will NOT disappoint. That goes for her steter fics too!

Teen Wolf Ship of the Day, June 15th

Chris Argent x Stiles Stilinski

If Stiles considered himself the King on the chess board, then Chris was his Queen. He could move wherever he wanted and didn't need to be protected the way that Stiles did. Chris was more of a danger on the board than Stiles was, but Chris knew just how smart the King could be.

Headcanons under the cut.

Stiles and Chris are an absolute power duo. They make plans like its breathing and always have backups for anything that could happen

Chris is the big spoon more often than not. Stiles would much prefer to spread out as much as possible when sleeping, and Chris likes to keep Stiles as comfortable as possible while also being held

Neither of them are fantastic cooks, Stiles is probably better than Chris, but only by a bit. Both of them would much rather get take out than make anything. Anything Stiles can make are things his mother taught him when he was younger. It's always emotional when he cooks, so sometimes he'd rather just not

They play chess a lot together. Sometimes Chris wins but its usually Stiles

Chris taught Stiles how to handle weapons, though Stiles prefers not to. He'll use them in emergency situations, but never when he can talk his way out of it. Stiles will always prefer to use his mind over any sort of brawn

Stiles can't fall asleep unless he's listening to something. Usually, it's a documentary. Chris prefers action movies as the sounds of explosions quickly become white noise to him. They always have some sort of show or movie playing at their place, and it alternates between what each of them like

Stiles is definitely more tactile than Chris is. Chris would rather not show that he has connections in any situation. Stiles prefers to have some sort of connection to his partner

[whiskyrivers]

This. This is my steter Roman Empire. The fact that, YEARS (and seasons) later, Peter STILL wants Stiles as a werewolf, still wants Stiles to have the bite, because he knows just how devastating Stiles would be if he were one. He's already dangerous as a human (which we know given the Nogitsune choosing him) but to be a wolf?

Stiles would be magnificent as a wolf and Peter knows that.

peter + stiles + the bite

[whiskyrivers]

I love how concerned he looks in this gifset, especially the second gif, but not just that. In the last gif the shot focuses on how everyone turns away from Stiles to look at where Scott had run off after the Nogitsune when it took Lydia.

But not Peter. Peter's focus stayed completely on Stiles the whole time.

God, I fucking love this pairing.

[whiskyrivers]

If Cora had been able to stick around, she absolutely would have been obsessed with Stiles too.

Also, Peter's question here absolutely makes me think that he would. He would kill to save Stiles, there's no doubt about that.

This gif made me realize that every living Hale has some sort of obsession with Stiles. Derek, Peter, Malia… Cora is an outlier!

Stiles is Hale kryptonite!

(Not my gif. Belongs to @endiness )

[whiskyrivers]

This cuntry has become so unfathomably disgusting since that fucking moldy tangerine took office. I will never, ever forgive anyone who voted for that mumbling, uneducated, narcissistic walnut.

Jonathan Joss being murdered in a hate crime and the cops saying there was ‘no evidence’ it was a homophobic hate crime despite the witness testimony from his husband who watched him be murdered is grotesque beyond words.

[whiskyrivers]

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[whiskyrivers]

I absolutely agree and understand this point regarding Stiles and his intelligence, aside from it being a 'funny' line from series. I do want to say, however, that I don't think it's that uncommon to not know, when growing up, that the Disney movies (or any fairytale movie) derives from books.

I didn't know until my very late teens that movies like Little Mermaid and Sleeping Beauty, etc.. were derived from books until I found a book on the original Grimm Fairytales and was like, "Hey..." and got curious about other Disney movies. (which also led me down a rabbit hole of Anne Rice's Sleeping Beauty erotica I was NOT READY FOR).

So I don't think it's a complete stretch for him to not know about the books, especially if he's not a Disney watcher, fairytale reader or just generally had no interest, which isn't something we know about him.

However, I do understand what you mean regarding this throw-away line and how it can make him look uneducated in a certain way, especially given his penchant for bouts of research-hyperfixation

Gods, the "You read that movie?" line in regards to The Little Mermaid still absolutely pisses me off. Stiles isn't just too clever for that, it is just generally a dumb line.

Beyond the fact that... fairy tales aren't a new concept? And old Disney movies being based on fairy tales is a widely well-known fact? And Disney made illustrated books for their movies that the majority of 90s kids I grew up with either had owned themselves or read at the library?

Like, even on the off-chance that Stiles wasn't aware this was based on a fairy tale and has never read that fairy tale (I would like to have words with Claudia and Noah), he must have known that there are books based on Disney movies.

I know it's a throwaway line. But it makes him not just look really stupid in the "haha, he doesn't read" sense (which is just factually painfully wrong because that boy reads a lot), but it also generally just makes no sense?

[whiskyrivers]

Fuck fascism. Fuck the oligarchy. Fuck Musk and Fuck Trump.

werewolves against fascism

free or pwyw download of hi-res, printable versions available here: https://ko-fi.com/s/a2e5b9f250

feel free to use/repost/reprint however much you want. if you leave a tip, a portion (70%) will go to various immigrant rights nonprofits around the country.

[whiskyrivers]

One of my all-time favourite movies ever! I've seen it thousands of times. Justin was one of my first furry crushes, too. I have the soundtrack somewhere on my computer and I listen to the ending theme every once in awhile.

in the beginning we were ordinary street rats, stealing our daily bread and living off the efforts of man's work. we were captured, put in cages, and sent to a place called NIMH.

The Secret of NIMH (1982) dir. Don Bluth

[whiskyrivers]

Same, except I'm 40+ roflmao. I've had tumblr since god knows when lol. Not this specific tumblr, I can't remember my old one.

30+ year old women are the backbone of this website

[whiskyrivers]

God, I love possessive Stiles when it comes to Steter. This was so insanely good. I love finding little ficlets like this on here. ;A;

78 for Steter, if you're interested!

Thanks so much for participating! I'm sorry for the wait; I did not expect this to end up being 2.7k! I hope you enjoy it :D

Prompt 78: “Don’t fucking touch what is not yours.”

Total words: 2709

~

Stiles hates these parties. Any time the Hale pack hosts another pack on their territory, Talia insists on throwing a big party to make them feel welcome and show off her prosperous pack (Stiles knows there’s more to it than that, but he’s feeling too grumpy to be charitable at the moment). 

Now, don’t get him wrong, Stiles loves a good party. He’ll never tire of spending time with the Hales, whom he loves dearly and have been his family for years. He certainly isn’t one to turn his nose up at a chance for free food, either, and wolves definitely know what they’re doing when it comes to barbeque. (Well, most of them do. Uncle Matty has been banned from all future barbeque attempts, and Grandma Nelly has not once been allowed to step foot in the kitchen beyond grabbing a glass of water in all the years Stiles has known her). He doesn’t even mind the pack politics of it all, or the occasional schmoozing he has to do. 

No, it’s the unmated wolves that he has a problem with.

When peaceful packs come to their territory, they invariably bring at least one unmated wolf with them, in hopes of piquing the interest of one of the few remaining unmated Hales of eligible age and winning the prestige of marrying into the Hale name. Even if the wolf joins the Hale pack through the union (the most likely outcome), the other pack still gains connections, allies, and status. 

And most of these wolves consider Stiles’s mate to be among the eligible Hales, and thus fair game. 

Stiles hears another ridiculously fake, tinkling laugh to his left and grits his teeth hard enough that Derek, standing at his side, sends him a concerned look out of the corner of his eye. Stiles is using every ounce of his self-control to focus on what Alpha Reynard’s Second is telling him and Derek about a training tacting he’s found works well for their younger pups, and not the interaction happening on the opposite side of the yard. Unfortunately, Stiles is not known for his self-control. It only takes one glance to his left for him to snap. 

“I’m so sorry, would you excuse me for a moment?” He cuts the man off mid-sentence (he’d been too distracted to get his name) and spins on his heel before he’s even done speaking, paying no mind to the conversation he’s leaving. Instead, he marches across the yard to where Loraine Reynard, Alpha Reynard’s daughter, has her hand on Peter’s forearm near the treeline, head tilted to smile coyly up at him through her lashes. She doesn’t seem to notice the plasticity of his smile or the glacial cold in his eyes. 

While Alpha Reynard had named both his twin daughters as his Heirs, the Alpha Spark would be going to her sister, Loretta. It seems Loraine has set her sights on gaining status through her mate rather than her leadership qualities.

Stiles is going to have to disabuse her of the notion that she’ll be finding that here. 

Peter meets his eyes over her shoulder as Stiles approaches, and whatever expression he sees on Stiles’s face makes a small smirk hover just behind his charming smile. It takes only seconds to reach their sides with his long stride, and Stiles’s hand immediately clamps tightly around her wrist. 

“Don’t,” he hisses in her face, “fucking touch what is not yours.” His fingers tighten and he all but flings her hand away from Peter’s arm. Rage flickers across her features as she pulls herself up straight in an attempt to look haughtily down her nose at him. 

“How dare you,” she hisses. “Who do you think you are?” 

“His mate,” Stiles snarls, stepping in front of Peter. She raises a condescending eyebrow and takes an obvious sniff. Stiles grits his teeth again, fists clenching. 

“You’re not mated,” she declares, “neither of you smell claimed. Therefore, he’s free game. Besides,” she sneers at him, “why would he mate with a human when he can have an Alpha’s Heir?” She tosses thick brown hair over her shoulder and stares at him challengingly. Stiles feels his fingers start to spark, but before he can show her just how wrong she is, Talia sweeps in. 

“Okay! Lorraine, wonderful to see you dear, have you had a chance to speak to my daughter Laura yet? It’s been a while since she’s had the opportunity to meet another Alpha’s heir around her age and has been so looking forward to meeting you. In fact—” Stiles lets the sound of Talia’s chattering fade away as she expertly steers the bitch away from them with an arm around her shoulders and a cheery smile on her face. 

A firm hand wraps around his bicep and gives a soft squeeze before stroking down his arm and back up again. Stiles only manages to maintain his rigid posture for a few more seconds before the tension seeps out of him and blue and silver sparks finally stop jumping around his fingertips. Stiles tilts his head back against the familiar, sturdy chest behind him, and Peter’s hand automatically moves from his arm to cup around Stiles’s bared neck, the barely there touch like the whisper soft touch of a moth’s wings against his skin. He’s sure a lot of the wolves in the yard are staring at them, but he doesn’t care.

“You know I’m yours, sweetheart,” Peter mutters into his hair, his other hand coming up to hold Stiles’s hip. Stiles can practically feel his smile, though he tries to keep it out of his voice. “No need to get so upset.” 

Despite Peter’s words, Stiles knows he loves it when Stiles gets possessive. And if he hadn’t before, the proof of it is now pressing into his ass. 

“She touched you,” Stiles growls. Peter’s hand flexes against his neck at the sound. Sometimes it can be very obvious how much of Stiles’s youth was spent around wolves. Peter has told him on several occasions that he acts more like a wolf than some born wolves he knows. 

Stiles spins around, eyes bright and jaw clenched right as he clamps his hand down exactly where Loraine’s hand had been only minutes before. Then he spins again and pulls his mate towards the treeline, keeping his grasp on Peter’s arm as he marches towards the nearest walking trail.

Peter doesn’t say a word, following Stiles easily as he drags him deeper and deeper into the woods, a determined set to his jaw. When Stiles finally stops at a trail junction and pivots to face him, there’s a soft, fond smile on Peter’s face. It shifts, however, when Stiles places his hands on his chest and shoves, eyes going molten as his back hits treebark. 

“You’re mine,” Stiles growls, pressing up against Peter’s front and gazing into his eyes with an intense expression. “And everyone should know it.” He captures Peter’s lips in a near-violent kiss, lips and tongues and teeth fighting for dominance immediately. A deep groan reverberates through Peter’s chest as Stiles pushes his thigh between Peter’s legs and into his erection. 

Stiles’s hands aren’t idle, running all over Peter’s body, skewing clothes and groping everywhere he can. Peter clutches at his hips and pulls him as close as possible, as if he could meld them into one being if he tries hard enough. Stiles’s fingers wiggle between them and he manages to get both their pants undone. Peter’s fingers skim up Stiles’s shirt below his ribcage, and Stiles pulls back slightly to grab his wrists. 

Peter tilts his head in question as Stiles stares into his eyes with a heated but unreadable expression. Slowly, so slowly, and without breaking his gaze, he moves Peter’s hands away from his skin and down to his sides, pressing his hands into the tree behind him. Stiles’s fingers skate over his skin and Peter feels a tingling, tightening sensation in his hands and wrists. He blinks, eyes widening slightly. Stiles’s eyes flick down to their hands for a moment before he pulls his away, trailing them up Peter’s arms. Peter gives his arms a slight tug, and finds he’s unable to move his hands from where they’d been placed. It’s as if they’d been glued to the tree (without the uncomfortable sensation or pulling skin). 

Stiles bites his lip and goes back to staring at him from under his lashes again, fingers continuing their path from his shoulders down to his chest as he waits to see if Peter will protest. Instead, Peter’s eyes go almost fully black as his pupils expand, and he strains his head forward into a kiss. Stiles falls into it immediately, taking the implicit permission and not wasting another second. 

Stiles shoves Peter’s shirt up so it’s wedged under his armpits and chin before shoving his own out of the way and pulling his cock out. He gives it a quick stroke before grasping Peter’s, making the man groan low in his chest as he grips just the way he likes. A barely whispered word against Peter’s lips, and suddenly Stiles’s hand is covered in slick, gliding smoothly over his erection. Stiles always says learning how to conjure lube—at his preferred consistency and temperature too—was the most useful application of his magic he’d learned to date (Peter always argues that it was learning how to remove blood stains from any surface or material). 

Stiles’s fingers circle around the tip a few times, just enough to make Peter buck his hips slightly, before he fits his hand around them both. They both let out low moans at the feel of being pressed together in Stiles’s slick fist, and Stiles switches to trailing sloppy kisses from Peter’s mouth to his jaw as he works his hand up and down their shafts. Stiles nips at the edge of his jaw and Peter curses as his hips buck again. Stiles’s eyes flutter in pleasure, hips moving as well as his hand. He loves making Peter—notoriously put together, smooth-talking, always in control Peter Hale—fall apart with his hands and mouth and cock.

Stiles moves his lips under Peter’s jaw and he tilts his head back to give him more access, letting it thunk against the tree. Stiles places several open mouthed kisses to the skin there before picking a spot and sucking. Peter knows a bruise will be forming instantly, though it will be gone almost as quickly as it was made. Unable to move his hands, he thrusts into Stiles’s fist as much as he can, mouth dropping open on a moan as Stiles starts murmuring praise and affirmations into his skin. Things like “fuck, you feel so good,” and “that’s it, so good for me baby,” and “you’re mine, Peter, everyone’s going to know exactly who you belong to,” and “love you so damn much” pressed into his skin like benedictions. 

Stiles sucks several more marks into his skin, the image of it in his mind driving him crazy, wanting to be able to mark Stiles in turn but unable to do much more than feel and pant and moan. It’s not often Peter is reduced to such a state, especially so easily, but it’s also not that often that Stiles gets so intensely and outwardly possessive. There’s something about being in the woods, close enough to the house that there’s a good chance the wolves can still hear them if they try, Stiles possessive and riled up and claiming him, that has him losing all of his normal composure. Gone is the man that can spend several hours taking Stiles apart with barely a break in composure. In his place is a writhing, whimpering mess two seconds away from begging. 

Peter cries out when Stiles’s teeth sink into neck, not hard enough to break skin but definitely hard enough to leave deep purple-blue indents in his skin. Then he feels the prickle of Stiles’s magic sinking into the mark and his hips jerk with a sharp gasp, come spattering all over their chests and dripping down Stiles’s hand. 

Stiles strokes him through it and comes with a loud groan a moment later, adding to the mess. 

They stay like that for a moment, slumped against the tree with Stiles’s forehead against his shoulder as they catch their breath, though he does remember to release Peter’s hands once he’s stopped breathing quite so hard. Peter immediately buries his hands into Stiles’s hair to pull him up into a deep kiss, slower than before. 

When their lips separate again, Stiles pulls back slowly, eyelids fluttering as he puts a few inches of space between their upper bodies and looks at the mess. It mostly ended up on Peter’s abs and Stiles’s fist. Stiles contemplates his hand for a minute before giving a slow, deliberate stroke up both shafts, gathering the evidence of their orgasm and swiping the back of his hand across Peter’s abs. Peter makes a small grumble of protest, thinking Stiles is just wiping the mess off his hand, but falls silent when Stiles flips his hand over and presses his palm firmly against Peter’s skin. 

Peter sucks in a slow breath as Stiles meets his gaze from beneath his lashes and slowly, deliberately, begins to rub their combined spend into Peter’s skin. 

“You’re mine,” Stiles says, voice rumbly and firm. Possessive. Claiming. Peter’s eyes rapidly dilate again, grip flexing on Stiles’s hips. Stiles’s hand stills and he lifts his palm, only to press it into his own stomach. 

Stiles stares deep into his eyes as he rubs the remainder into his own skin. “And I’m yours.”

Emotion wells up in Peter’s eyes too quickly to name and he pulls Stiles back into his shoulder, wrapping him up in his arms and burying his face in Stiles’s neck. He squeezes almost to the point of bruising. Stiles simply relaxes into his hold, body melting into his mate’s embrace.

They stay like that for what feels like hours, even after Peter’s grip goes lax and his head raises once more, simply basking in the feeling of being in each other’s arms. 

“You know, this wouldn’t be a problem if we just got mated already,” Stiles eventually grumbles into his shoulder. Peter runs a soothing hand down his spine. 

“You know why we can’t do that. We promised your father we’d wait until you turned 21 before doing the official ceremony and claiming bites.” Stiles mutters something into his shoulder, Peter catching a few words that sounds an awful lot like ‘culturally insensitive’. Peter skims his nose along Stiles’s temple with a soft smile. “It was his only stipulation on our relationship,” Peter reminds him, “and he’s only just starting to do more than tolerate me. We can wait a little bit longer. Besides, these parties are the only times it really becomes an issue, and there aren’t likely to be many in the next year. If we play our cards right, I can even arrange to be away visiting you at college the next time one rolls around.” 

Stiles pulls back to look up at Peter with a grumpy pout. 

“One more year.” Peter presses a soft kiss to his nose, caressing his sides and pulling him close. “You’ll finish your program, we’ll get officially mated, and then I’m taking you on a six month honeymoon, wherever you want to go.” 

Stiles can’t help the small smile that flutters around his lips. He cradles Peter’s face in his palms.

“You’re lucky I love you,” he says, pressing a featherlight kiss to Peter’s kiss-swollen lips. “My Wolf,” he whispers against them. 

“My Spark,” Peter murmurs back. 

When they return to the party hand-in-hand, most of the Reynards pack avoids eye contact, Derek wrinkles his nose at them and walks away in the opposite direction, and Talia attempts to give them a disapproving glare, which quickly turns into an eye roll. She shakes her head and turns away with a small smile. 

Stiles is sure he’ll have to apologize to the Alpha later—both of them—but it was worth it. He glances up at his mate, seeing the easy, relaxed smile on his face.

Peter is always worth it. 

[whiskyrivers]

Me with the ever-present threat of our current Government/Administration in america.

is anyone else not vibing with the always looming sense of impending doom or is it just me

[whiskyrivers]

[whiskyrivers]

So, I got this because, hello! CS6?! I miss playing in CS so much. However, when I extract, there is no application titled 'PhotoshopCS6Extended' in the DOCS file, which I had to locate in the AutoPlay folder. There is only 'PhotoshopCS6Portable'.

I went through all of the folders and there is no file or extension titled 'PhotoshopCS6Extended'. Is it titled something else now? Did someone else change something and upload it? I'm kind of feeling gipped and like I fell for some prank.

Does anyone else have this and can confirm that this is usable even if the Extended file isn't in there and it's just the regular PSC6 exe?

NEVERMIND, HOLY SHIT THIS IS AMAZING!!!! I LOST MY CS5 I HAD ON AN OLD COMPUTER YEARS AND YEARS AGO AND GOT OUT OF GRAPHICS BECAUSE OF IT, AND I COULDN'T PAY FOR THE ACTUAL PROGRAM. THIS IS AMAZING. FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF

Also, for some reason it's not titled 'PhotoshopCS6Extended' it's just titled PCS6, but it DOES work. I played around with some old icon brushes and THEY WORK. /sobs

photoshop cs6

version: extended

for: windows

♡ please like or reblog if you download, thanks!  ♡

P H O T O S H O P   C S 6   E X  T E N D E D

- After downloading and extract, open the folder named ‘docs’ and click in ‘PhotoshopCS6Extended’ and wait the program open.

- With time line!

*NOTE*

- If it appears one window click in “yes” or “okay”.

[whiskyrivers]

Reblogging to give Elon Musk my debilitating arthritic hip pain that I have in BOTH hips leaving me barely able to walk most of the time and also he has to use a walker with a bum wheel that keeps turning in the wrong direction and getting him stuck everywhere he goes. :D

I don't have a bum wheel on my walker I just want that for him as a bonus :D :D

reblog to give your headache to elon musk instead

[whiskyrivers]

I want more of whatever this is, please and thank you.

Also, I associated Stiles with foxes long before the nogitsune. Stiles is sly and cunning, but also has that chaotic trickster side of him that likes to joke around and pull pranks.

Stiles is a fox charmer or foxes consider him their leader

Since the association between Stiles and foxes is because of the Nogitsune (at least, to my knowledge), I’m using that as an inciting incident.

-

It takes Stiles a while to notice. Things are so fucked up after the Nogitsune that odd wildlife behavior doesn’t register. But eventually it calms down enough that his eye for patterns notices them. The foxes. Whenever Stiles is within a hundred yards of the Preserve, at least one fox can be found in the brush, watching him. Usually more than one.

He tells Deaton, who brushes him off, and the pack, but Scott just shrugs and says to let them know if the foxes do more than follow him. Peter seems more interested than the others, but he doesn’t speak up. 

For weeks, nothing changes. Then a witch kidnaps Peter.

No one can track him, the witches have gone to ground, and Scott seems like he’s looking for an excuse to stop searching, though he goes along with the plans the others propose. Stiles is furious, and maybe a little scared, when he storms out of a pack meeting and into the Preserve.

The foxes come boiling out of the bushes as if summoned, at least a dozen of them. “I need to find Peter,” he tells them. Really he’s just venting his frustration. How could the foxes do anything if werewolf noses can’t find him?

But they draw closer. The underbrush continues to rustle as more join the gathering. “I need to find Peter Hale,” Stiles repeats, heart pounding. This is stupid He doesn’t even have anything of Peter’s with him to share with them.

Apparently, it doesn’t matter. After a breathless pause, the foxes scatter into the Preserve.

Stiles waits.

Sixteen minutes later, one of them returns. 

It leads him straight to Peter.

“Aren’t you full of surprises,” Peter murmurs.

“Secrets,” Stiles corrects. This doesn’t feel like something he should share. Not yet.

Peter smiles. “Of course.”

[whiskyrivers]

Okay. Hear me out.

What if this is how Peter and Stiles meet? Like, they're at the wedding of a mutual friend, or are the plus 1 to someone else and get sat at the 'sinner's table' or whatever name you'd like to give it, and immediately hit it off by complaining about the wedding/reception/other people/the décor, etc..