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[Smooth Criminal plays in the background]

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Princess Elena in the cavalry as she deserved, WHY DIDN'T WE GET TO SEE YOU AGAIN WEIRD GIRL 💔💔💔 Coming to the rescue of King Arthur who got himself into a right mess (I don't think Elena would be the type to be on the battlefield, but the cavalry imagery was too cool to resist)

I unabashedly traced the horse because no. All based on a 17th century painting by A. Ezhov

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merlin telling mordred “if arthur knew you had magic, things would be very different” oof. ok bestie let’s unpack that. that line is such a projection. it’s not about mordred, it’s about himself. this is a man who has spent years contorting himself into a shape small enough to stand beside arthur without being seen fully. this is a man who has saved arthur’s life more times than anyone could count, followed him into every war, and still believes that the second arthur really sees him, all of him, it will all fall apart.

if arthur knew…yeah, things would be very different. that’s a warning he’s been repeating in his own head for years. he’s already played the conversation out a thousand times in his head, and it never ends with understanding. merlin still doesn’t think arthur will ever accept him as he really is. not if he’s magic. not if he’s the one thing arthur was taught to hate.

that line? direct translation is actually “if arthur knew me, if arthur saw me, if arthur knew what i’ve done and who i am, he would hate me. everything would change and i would not survive it”

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Dragon Bones by artist Stefan Koidl.

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finally started watching BBC Merlin. what a show. these are my reactions to s1

also a quick merthur sketch that i may or may not improve on later:

also me when the inescapable yaoi meets the never acknowledged yuri:

me while watching bbc merlin and realizing yall werent joking about not being one of those fandoms who need the fans to delulu each other about the characters being in love:

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[I don't know where you're going, but do you got room for one more troubled soul?]

Derek is done.

Done.

He's done with this shithole of a town that only takes and takes and takes. He's tired of looking over his shoulder, tired of wondering when the next horror is going to spring from the shadows and try to kill him next.

When it might try and kill the few people Derek has left. (But Cora is gone, packed up and back with the Pack that raised her. Peter is gone, even though Derek isn't sure he ever got him back after Paige died. Issac went to Scott, to Argent, to never looking back.)

(He doesn't think about blonde hair and bright red lipstick. About wild eyes that made him think about Laura. He doesn't think about the quiet presence that could have been so much. About the boy who had been wary but steady.)

Derek stares down at the open trunk, at the duffle bag that has everything of his. His room had once been a mess of books and paper and blankets. His closet stuffed with hand-me-down clothes from uncles and cousins and knitted sweaters from his aunt.

He's gone from never having enough room in his suitcase to his entire life fitting in one. He doesn't slam the trunk closed, just makes sure it clicks shut before he rounds the car to the drivers side. He's just reaching for the handle when he hears a car heading towards him.

It's not the death rattle of the blue jeep that's saved his life more then he'd like to count, or anything else that belongs to the rest of Scott's pack. (Not Derek's. Not his. Alone. Alone. Alone Again.)

This car has a steady rumble. Older. Slight squeak of a break pad. Slight whine of an overdue oil change. The click of a radio and scanner.

The Sheriff.

He's turns towards the headlights coming his way, blinking as they cut off before the car turns into the lot and pulls up beside him. John Stilinski steps out of the car, not in uniform but in plaid and jeans that instantly makes Derek think of Stiles.

Its the haggard look on the sheriff's face that reels Derek to the here and now, makes him tense up just a bit. The man stops before him, glances back at the cruiser before he faces forward again.

Derek knows that look. He's already shaking his head even as a wistful smile cracks the sheriff's face.

"I haven't even said anything."

"With all due respect, sheriff," Derek says, shoulders sinking in defeat, "you didn't have to."

"Call me John. I know..." The sheriff hesitates, hand raking through his hair before he seems to crumple before Derek's eyes. "I know it's not my place to ask where you're headed. Lord knows you shouldn't stay here after everything that's happened."

"But?" Derek asks, waiting for the drop. Will he be asked to stay? To try and help Scott again despite how unwilling he's always been. (A True Alpha. A boy whose moral compass is always correct, who is led by his dick, who doesn't want his wolf but still uses all that comes from it.)

"Can you take Stiles with you?"

Derek freezes, eyes immediately finding the head of dark hair he'd missed at first glance pressed against the passenger side window.

"He's not...I don't..." John sighs heavily, arms crossing in a move Derek is familiar with. "I don't know how to help him. I did a shit job after Claudia, my wife, died.

"I didn't know how to help him then, and I don't know how to help him now. I do know that there isn't anything here that can though."

Derek opens his mouth to ask a question, but the immediate stink of anger-fury-wrath rolling off the man has him snapping his mouth shut.

"I made him tell me everything. From the night all this started until just a few hours ago. And do you know what stood out to me?"

The sheriff's gaze make him think of his own father, quiet but intense. His mother may have been his Alpha, but he'd always been his father's shadow.

"That whenever anything was wrong, it was you who showed up."

"Sir," Derek's voice rose, not quite in shock, but something close, before he shook his head. "John, it's my fault he ended up in half those situations."

"Son, I've met Stiles. I raised him. Even if you think you were the reason he ended up in anything, there was an eighty percent chance he would have found his way there on his own."

There was nothing Derek could say to that.

"If you can't, if you just need to get out of here, that's fine. I can figure something out. But...he trusts you." John's voice was soft, and the truth of his words, of what they meant, rocked Derek to his core. "He knows that you'll there to help him, that of things ever went wrong, that you'd know what to do."

And Derek did. Whether it was finding a way to talk him down from a panic attack, or making an impossible decision, Stiles would put his life in Derek's hands.

He glances again at the cruiser, just barely able to make out the sleepless smudges on pale skin, on a mouth that's been bitten bloody.

Derek knows there's a duffle bag in the cruisers trunk. He knows that Stiles doesn't know it's there.

He turns and heads back to pop the latch for the trunk, reaching in and shoving his bag over to make room. He keeps his head down, feeling his heart twist at the wet laugh the sheriff lets out before his boots shuffle across the gravel.

Derek hears Stiles stir as the cruisers trunk opens and shuts, watches as a second bag and pillow land beside his own before he turns his gaze to the railing limbs spilling out of the passenger seat.

"Dad? Derek? What's..." Stiles trails off, amber eyes taking in everything faster than Derek could ever hope to even with his abilities.

Derek watches as the sheriff pulls his son into a hug, focuses on the hum of the streetlight instead of their not quite crying conversation. He closes the trunk as they finally pull apart, turning to face them both.

He freezes as the sheriff pulls him into a hug, slowly responding before he steps back and finds Stiles pressed up to his side.

"Where are we going?"

"Dunno," Derek says with a shrug, shoulder bumping into Stiles. "Haven't decided yet."

A smile, soft, a little cracked at the edges but real, lifts the corners of Stiles' mouth. From the way John's breath seems to catch in his chest, Derek assumes this is the first real one Stiles has had in a long while.

"Well, let's get these troubled souls on the road then. How do you feel about the ocean?"

"Salty."

Stiles barks out a laugh, startling all three of them before he turns and heads to the passenger side of Derek's car.

"We'll send you a postcard when we get to our stop, pops. I'm gonna find the most Hallmark bullshit print I can find."

He's still talking even as he closes the door behind himself, and John's quiet, teary laugh draws Derek's attention.

"Thank you. Have him call me when you stop. Call me when he drives you crazy. And if he tells you he doesn't need a rest stop, he's lying. His mother was the same way."

Derek watches the sheriff head back to his vehicle, raising a hand in goodbye before he slips into the car. The air has the sharp tang of salt, tears not quite shed, and Derek twists the keys in the ignition.

"Derek."

He clicks his seat belt, eases the car into gear and onto the road before he turns to glance at Stiles from the corner of his eye.

"Yeah?"

"Thanks." Derek nods, waits. "So about the beach."

"No."

"Come on! Don't be such a sourwolf!"

He reaches out and flips on the radio, pretending to ignore Stiles' argument about why saltwater has healing properties as he lets the music fill the car.

Derek wonders if Stiles will still feel that way when he throws him into the Pacific.

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you are my monster

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Stiles getting hurt in a fight for the umpteenth time and Derek finally has enough. He demands Stiles show up next pack night to start training with the betas. Of course he can’t do everything but he should at least learn how to fucking dodge.

Stiles gets there, dressed in his track suit, a pencil standing next to Boyd but smiling, just happy to be included. Derek has to reign in a sigh before motioning Jackson forward. “You’re going to spar with Stiles.”

Jackson looks insulted.

“I could sit on him and break him in half.”

“You’re not going to touch him. It’s a lesson in restraint for you too. You learn to pull yourself back. You so much as nick him you’re running the preserve 10 times.” Jackson grumbles, rolling his eyes but getting into a fighting stance.

Stiles stands in front of him.

“Stiles… just don’t get hit. Get a feel for how he moves and move the opposite direction.” Derek instructs.

“Can I hit him?” Stiles asks and Jackson snorts.

“I’d literally pay you for every hit you can land.” Jackson taunts. Stiles is still looking at Derek though, waiting for permission and Derek waves at him in agreement. If that was the attitude Jackson wanted to have, Stiles is welcome to try.

Stiles nods before mimicking Jackson’s stance.

“You guys, I don’t think this is a good idea…” Scott murmurs worriedly.

“Relax, I’m not going to hurt your token human.” Jackson growls.

“That’s not what I mean…” Scott grumbles but Jackson pulls his arm back and takes the first swing and Stiles is suddenly gone.

Derek blinks in astonishment, watching Stiles sidestep off to Jackson’s right and then spinning so he’s behind him. Jackson stumbles forward in shock and Stiles’ foot kicks his knee in, causing a loud grunt of pain to be heard from the beta.

“How much money per hit?” Stiles asks, semi- serious as Jackson’s eyes glow and he whips around only for Stiles to be standing opposite him again. “Are we talking new Mac book prices or a slurpee at the 7/11?”

“What the fuck…” Erica gasps in disbelief.

“You guys. I don’t think you understand-” Scott tries once more only for Jackson to roar angrily and dart forward again.

“Jackson!” Derek demands only to watch as Stiles moves into his space this time. Lifting his forearm and rolling Jackson’s elbow up and out of the momentum of the punch. It’s fluid, quick, and then the human is using the force of Jackson’s own body, bringing his palm up and letting the beta ram himself into the heel of his palm.

Jackson’s gasps for air as hand meets solar plexus and he crumbles down to his knees. The preserve goes quiet in shock. The only sounds are Jackson’s choking breaths.

“I tried to tell you guys… Noah had him take karate classes since he was 5… Chris has been training him since the Nogitsune. He spars with Parrish whenever he’s at the station…Did you all really think he’s been able to keep pace with werewolves and take literal hits from us because he was lucky?” Scott asked in amusement.

“B-But he always gets hurt!” Isaac cries out in indignation.

“So do we all! He just doesn’t heal immediately after so it always looks worse. If you all think about it though. He actually gets hit the least out of all of us, even when he’s in the thick of it.” Stiles doesn’t say anything just looks over at Derek and gives him a wink.

Derek has never been more turned on in his life.

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Boots! (@ssreeder)

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A haunted doll mistaking a creepy android to be a bigger, stronger, haunted doll, and the creepy android mistaking the haunted doll as a smaller, sassier android.

Android: [gets hit with rain water and short circuits] Haunted Doll: H̷O̷L̴Y̷ ̶W̵A̷T̸E̷R̶ ̵W̴A̵T̴C̵H̴ ̶O̶U̷T̴

Haunted Doll, dying: N̶E̵E̸D̷ ̷S̸O̵U̵L̸S̷ Android: [opens the haunted doll’s back and replaces the batteries] Haunted Doll: A̶C̶C̷E̷P̸T̶A̷B̸L̵E̴ ̷S̴U̴B̸S̵T̸I̷T̷U̴T̵E̴

Android: [transfers their data into a better body] Haunted Doll: A̸ ̵F̴L̸A̷W̵L̷E̴S̵S̷ ̷B̶O̸D̶Y̵ ̷P̶O̵S̶S̵E̷S̶S̵I̷O̷N̴

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Another random ATLA screenshot redraw ft. Lee Junior 🌾⚔️

I like this shot alot because he looks constipated (reposted to correct something)

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They'd all be best friends, if they got the chance to meet.

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I have seen so many people say that if Merlin confessed to having magic, Morgana wouldn't have become evil and I don't necessarly agree with this mostly (even though I would really love for this to be true) because Morgana did hate Uther for all he had done to magic users and she actually feared of what might become of her should he discover, and I think she would have tried to kill him and take the throne regardless of knowing if Merlin had magic or not. She was driven by her fear and her anger and even if Merlin did offer her his support, and teached her more about magic, this would have changed very little in what path Morgana would have taken, especially because only the ruler of Camelot (Uther in this case, Arthur in the future) had a say in whatever future a being of magic such as Morgana would have.

It is also probable that Morgana could have tried to make Merlin be on her side (impossible feat seeing as he is so loyal and enamoured with Arthur), but it would have changed so little. In the series, Morgana's destiny was doomed by Uther and whichever pact he made (which he didn't even understand fully) just to have a male heir and consequently decimated an entire population because he didn't understand the terms of the pact or whatever it was called.

So no, really Merlin should not really be blamed for what Morgana decided to do. Even if she knew about Merlin, she would have made the same decision, probably thinking that she was in the right and could help the magical community.

(The only thing I blame Merlin for is for stopping Arthur when he wanted to kill his father, he really should have let him do it. I don't remember if Morgana was evil at that point, or if she had just discovered her magic, but I think that if only the Pendragon siblings would have just communicated with each other a lot of pain would have been avoided)

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There's a lot of things Robin Buckley didn't expect to happen upon becoming coworkers with popular rich boy, Steve Harrington.

The fact he was funny was one. That he was genuinely trying to be a good dude was another.

The being friends with children was the frontliner up until that whole 'fighting interdimensional monsters while dodging the FBI and Russian agents both' thing happened-- and yet, the thing that continued to surprise Robin the most?

How fucking dramatic Steve could be.

"It's not that bad." She soothed, one hand petting his shoulder as Steve, head collapsed in his arms and arms collapsed against the counter of Hawkins coffee shop, moaned like a dying thing. "You've recovered from worse."

"That's the thing, Robs." Steve moaned sadly into his arms, voice heavily muffled, "I panicked."

Oh, how hard it was to keep the amusement out of her voice. (She was being sympatric here dammit, really, she was!) "I'm sure whatever you did, Eddie can find it in himself to forgive you."

Finally picking his head up to stare flatly at her, Steve deadpanned; "He asked me what my real reason was for not liking his ex because,"

Here Steve's voice pitched mockingly high. "We all know it wasn't because of his mustache" even though it was, it was a gross mustache, Robs--"

"Okay." She interrupted, coughing slightly to keep from laughing. "So to recap, Eddie told you he broke up with his ex, you said 'Oh thank god' and when he asked you what your real reason was for disliking the guy was you panicked and...?"

Steve dropped his head back down and muttered into the counter.

"What was that?"

"I said I couldn't see Eddie with a guy who wears backwards hats and polo shirts!"

"...Don't you wear backwards hats and polo shirts?"

Steve thunked his head on the wood before wailing; "I do!"

Robin couldn't help it, she lost the battle and started laughing. "Oh my god, Dingus."

"Shut up!"

"I don't know if I can."

"I'm going to have to start wearing my hat forwards, like someones fucking dad!"

"Throw away all the polos." Robin cackled. "Replace them with graphic t-shirts. With those metal logos on them."

Steve thunked his head down again before wordlessly screaming into the wood.

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thank you for staying, even on rainy days

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and when you're sad, i'll sit with you

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