I appreciate the work that goes in to the TFWiki to make it one of the better fandom wikis out there, but I feel like everyone there is more preoccupied with writing shitty jokes instead of actually covering the fiction.
Not to mention the people running the site can be embarrassingly childish, like the time Walky threatened to take the website down because Jim Sorenson kept writing official fiction involving the GoBots. Or just the reaction to Sorenson’s “Ask Vector Prime” in general where the higher ups at the wiki kept complaining about new fiction they’d have to cover.
Hell, they’ve actively ignored a few entire universes created specifically to help clean up the Wiki’s classification system because it’d be too much work to reclassify things.
“We think she may be more of an independent agent and want her hoomans
all to herself. Did we mention Pitter Pat loves her peeps? She may be
grumpy with other canines, but rolls over for belly rubs or snuggles in
when she is being held. Pitter Pat wants a furever family who will make
sure she remains healthy and beautiful, gives her time for outside and
walkies, as well as lots of cuddle and lap time.”
Ezra laughed as his Mothers Mabari stuck his head through the front door stubbornly with the leash in his mouth. Mistaking Ezra putting on his sneakers as walk time. “ Milo, no walkies. Later bud I gotta go.” He said as he pushed lightly at the old dog.
When the dog finally relented, Ezra walked down the stairs and waved at Milo from when he sat watching him. He quickly checked the time on his phone before beginning to speed walk down the road. He could not be late today, it was his first day working at the pet store down the road from his home. His adoptive mother Bo had suggested it. It was the shop she got all of Milo’s toys and food from.
He rushed through the front door of the shop letting the bell ring as he looked around for another employee so that he knew what it was he was supposed to do today.
It was another day on set, and she was setting up the scenery just before rushing over to grab a grape from the table. She was absolutely starving, but there was no time, her walkie talkie was going crazy with things she had to deliver. That was when she looked up at him before brushing past. When their eyes met for a brief moment, she felt a little jump start in her chest. She tore her eyes away first, smiling gently as she rushed away.
Hannibal is in his study when he hears the telltale sound of dozens of paws hitting the stairs, followed by the much more casual gait of a biped. He checks the clock – after 10pm. He knows that Will enjoys taking the dogs to the dog park not far from the house after dark because there is less chance for canine – or human – confrontation.
On a whim, perhaps because they have chosen to pursue solo activities this evening and have been out of each other’s company, Hannibal leaves his study and heads down the stairs to the foyer, where he finds Will putting on his coat, the dogs waiting patiently in a semi-circle at his feet. Hannibal stops a few steps up, looking down as Will struggles with the zipper. “Do you want some company?” he asks. Several of the dogs look up at the sound of his voice, and he feels compelled to add, “Of the human variety, that is.”