#the ally gerard needed

[theyheoftheapocalypse]

marina toybina really waltzed into the my chemical romance world and proposed working on the tour herself and then got the job, proceeded to pull that cheerleader dress out in the matter of a few weeks, absolutely knocked it out of the park for the entire tour, got gerard on the new york times best dressed people of 2022, made a chainmail gown and generally was behind one of the most lifechanging events for mcr fans and trans people, is the first known public figure to use they/them for gerard way in writing, then did a podcast saying that the universe was behind all this and it was fate and destiny, and used both he/him and they/them for gerard out loud for ten whole minutes, then designed the most cunty secretary look ever and waited until several days after tour to tell us it was her. motherfucker i love her so much. welcome to the family marina

[smallest-clown]

La Bête wanting and choosing to consume the beast to free herself from it and to gain its power over her vs. Ylfa being pushed and forced to consume the wolf to free herself from the stalemate in order to survive

[lovevalley45]

sometimes i see characters get assigned as. parental figures and i have to sit there like "bestie i know where you're coming from but they do Not have the emotional stability and/or maturity for this role"

[heytherecentaurs]

This episode was so funny. It was combat but even though they got pretty hurt they were never in such dire danger I feared they’d lose, which is wild with all the dragons they were fighting. The Bad Kids managed to do so much and are so powerful. Fabian and Fig managed the party. Fabian used all his popularity to get people to vote. Adaine’s Furious Fist, organizing allies and using a cannon. Riz with all the cannon fire was incredible. Plus he’s smoking and drinking now!? Gorgug is the absolute mvp with all the damage he tanked plus driving plus gas and ram attacks plus normal attacks. And Kristen or rather K2. Ally Beardsley is legendary. Zac DMed. Fig did the shocker and flashed the party! Emily’s carafe and French press. Brennan’s “I need a ride home” callback. Ally coming up with so much K2 lore after Brennan said he was gonna kill her. Murph coming up with Gerard Neigh. This episode had everything.

[illiterateaffairs]

a simple favor | stiles x reader

masterlist

pairing: stiles stilinski x f!reader (enemy/witch)

word count: 7,120

warnings: language, banter, minor blood, allusions to sex *gasp* but no smut (sorry!)

summary: despite being self-proclaimed "enemies", you manage to drag stiles to your house for help with a spell...and maybe more.

author's note: hi friends! hope everyone is doing as well as they can be, and hope i can offer up a small distraction. i'm back with another witch!reader x stiles fic but this exists in a universe in which you are a "bad guy" and stiles can't stand you...for now ;) more deets at the end! also please just roll with me on any witch stuff idk if anything is accurate to witch lore, i feel as if with magic the rules are made up anyway so i'm doing what i want :)

“Hi!”

“AH- Jesus, what the hell are you doing here?” Stiles jumps before his face contorted in annoyance. 

He was on his way to pick up Scott. For some god forsaken reason his best friend wanted to get a tattoo before they started junior year and Stiles was meant to “supervise”. However, just as Stiles hops into the driver’s seat of his jeep, he’s greeted in the passenger seat by you. 

And you may or may not be Stiles’s least favorite person in the world. 

“I was waiting for you,” you state, point blankly like it was normal for you to have broken into his car. 

Stiles rolls his eyes, “God, do I want to know why?”

“Doubtful,” you sigh, turning in the seat to start putting on the seatbelt, “You should probably start driving.”

Stiles slowly narrows his eyes, “Why?”

“I need your help with a spell.”

“My help? What makes you think I’m going to help you?”

“Because you know I could kill you with the snap of my fingers.” you roll your head in his direction with a pointed look, “Besides, you owe me.”

Oh yeah. Because you saved his life this past spring when Gerard Argent kidnapped him after his lacrosse game. 

Stiles inwardly groans. You had a point. He had a feeling though no matter how many favors he paid you, you’d never let that go. 

You may have saved his life, but the thing was, to him and his friends you were still the “bad guy”. You were still the same witch that pretended to befriend him and Scott when Scott first became a werewolf, just for them to find out you were playing them to help Peter, who had enlisted your help to regain his strength and heal from the Hale fire. Stiles had barely tolerated you since the day you met, but after that, any ounce of trust and respect he had for you vanished. 

From that point on, Stiles decided he hated you. And despite defeating Peter, your presence loomed. For some reason, Derek leaned on you when he was building his pack of betas, giving Stiles more reason to despise you. But shortly after that, out of nowhere, Scott sought your help to try to stop Jackson as the Kanima and figure out who was controlling him. There was a brief moment where Stiles thought you could become an ally but admittedly he fucked that up when Peter came back from the dead and he jumped to the conclusion that you, once again, aided and abetted him. Turns out, in fact, he was wrong, and it was actually Lydia - his hopeless crush for nearly a decade - and he had accused and berated you for nothing. So any shot at you guys finding common ground was dead in the water. And you had decided to be petty and align yourself with the Argents just to piss him off. 

He hadn’t seen you since that night. He’d heard off hand from Isaac who’d heard from Derek you were spending the summer on the East Coast, doing some witch training or coven bonding shit with your family. 

That was until right now, in the front seat of his jeep.

“Scott is waiting for me.” Stiles finally responds; a half-hearted attempt to get you to go away.

You make a face, “Scott can go one night without being codependent.”

Stiles rolls his eyes, but he finds himself starting the engine. “Where are we going?”

“My house.” 

“You’re taking me to your lair?”

“Ha ha.”

“I don’t even know where you live.” 

“I’ll give you directions as we go. It's just right on the outskirts of the preserve.” 

“You live in the woods?”

“Just drive.”

Stiles should question how quickly he concedes but there is in fact the possibility of you hexing him or something. Which you’ve yet to do in any serious or fatal way. But another part of him is admittedly curious; to know what exactly you want, to see how you actually live. 

From the little information he’s learned about you the past year, he knows you live with your aunt and were home schooled up until recently when you enrolled in Beacon Hills High during the winter semester. But other than that, you were just the mysterious witch he hardly knew anything about. Aside from knowing you were a pain in his ass and someone he’s hesitant to trust. 

But he thinks he can survive one evening with you. 

The drive is quiet with just you providing simple directions. At one point he tries to make a feeble attempt at small talk, but you instantly lunge forward to turn on the radio. 

You turn to look at him in disbelief when the channel that’s on is the police scanner he rigged up. He shrugs sheepishly before you shake your head and turn the dial to some indie station. 

Stiles puckers his lips and nods as soft music fills the car. “Arctic Monkeys, nice-”

“Turn left at the stop sign.”

“Right.”

You turn to him with an amused look. “You don’t know how to act when we’re not at each other’s throats.”

Stiles scoffs, “Can you blame me? I barely think of you as a real person half the time, I don’t know what to say to you.”

You chuckle as you stare out the window, “Well we’re almost there.”

“What kind of spell do you need my help with anyway? And why me?”

“Because you’re a human.”

“Okay…?”

“And I need your blood.”

“Oh great.”

“It’s a spell to make a protection amulet. So I can wear it and not be found by other witches.” 

“And why do you need that?”

“Now that is none of your business.” You sigh, unbuckling your seatbelt, “And we’re here.”

Stiles observes the road they’re coming to the end of. Your house is indeed at the edge of the woods: a modest victorian-gothic style home hidden by trees. 

“I didn’t even know there were houses out here.”

“Not many,” you reply as the two of you hop out of the jeep. 

Stiles glances between you and his phone as you lead him to the front door, also texting Scott that he’ll need a raincheck on the tattoo adventure and he’ll explain later. 

“Is your aunt home?”

“Nope, she’ll be gone until late.” You answer, unlocking the door for you both to enter. 

Stiles takes in what he can from the foyer. He can’t get a full view of the space but he can definitely tell witches live here. The living room is lined with wooden bookshelves and candles and trinkets. He doesn’t have much time to observe when he watches you head for the staircase. 

“Um, where are we going exactly?”

“My room,” You call without turning around.

“Woah,” Stiles huffs nervously, “We’re doing this in your bedroom?”

“Don’t get too excited Stilinski, you’re here for business not pleasure.”

Stiles is grateful you still haven’t bothered turning around to look at him, because he feels his face heat up as he finally follows you up the stairs.

No surprise, your room also fits right in with the aesthetic of the house. Moody colors, wooden bed posts, and candles on every surface. He watches you flick your wrist and every candle lights up, casting a warm glow around the room. It's the first time he’s thought your powers were cool, but he’d never admit that out loud.

“Is this the lair you were expecting?” you ask, turning around to face him while standing in front of your desk, which is littered with books, potion bottles, and a large pot. 

Stiles shrugs, “It’s a little underwhelming.”

“Were you expecting me to live in an underground dungeon?”

“Something like that.”

You hum and turn back to face your desk, taking stock of the potion ingredients on hand.

Stiles wanders over to stand beside you, his hands in his pockets. “So explain to me what you mean by needing my blood.”

You pick up a necklace from your desk: a silver chain with an empty vial hanging on it. “I’m essentially making a potion to put in here. And if I wear it, it will make it harder for witches searching for me to track me or my magic. And human blood is on the recipe.”

“But why me?”

“I told you, because you’re human. Not a werewolf or a witch; a human. And humans have the purest form of blood. It's basically the secret ingredient.”

Stiles rolls his eyes at your nonchalance. “Okay I get that I guess, but why me? Couldn’t you have found some other schmuck to help you? Or have you scared off every other person in Beacon Hills with your shining personality.”

You turn to Stiles with a tight smirk, “As you may know, not many people are even aware that the supernatural is real. I know you do, and unfortunately you’re my best option. Allison is still in France from what I’ve gathered, Lydia is something but I haven’t quite figured that out yet, and using my aunt would require me having to explain what I’m doing and why. So you’re it buddy.”

“Oh so I’m literally your last choice. Boy am I honored.”

“You should be.”

“Wait, do you mean your aunt isn’t a witch like you?”

“Nope,” you shake your head, focusing back on the bottles on your desk, starting to add ingredients to the pot. “She’s not even technically my aunt. She was a family friend that took me in when I was young.”

“Why? What happened to your parents?”

You swallow, “You’re nosy.”

“Fine don’t tell me, but I think it's fair I get a little information since I’m the one helping you.”

“You’re the one who owes me, remember?”

“Yeah but it sounds like you can’t complete this spell without me and it seems pretty important so…thinking that gives me some leverage.”

You glance over at him with a glare and Stiles shoots you an innocent smile that makes you want to wipe it off his face. 

You let out a deep breath, “My parents fled to god knows where when I was five. Apparently, my family has a centuries long feud with another coven and they’d evaded them for years until then. They decided leaving me with Jules was better for my safety. So I’ve been in Beacon Hills ever since. I actually didn’t know most of that until this summer. I sort of…had a run in with a member of that coven without realizing and now I’m afraid they’re going to find me here. Hence the protection amulet we’re making. Is that enough background information for you?”

Stiles raises his eyebrows as he absorbs everything. “Wow that’s…heavy. There’s some witch coven out there that's been trying to kill your family for centuries. No wonder you’re the way that you are.”

I let out an unamused huff as I add the last of the pre-prepared ingredients. 

“Wait, is that unicorn dust- are unicorns real?”

I smirk as I pour it in, “Like I’d give away that information to you for free.”

I bite back a laugh as Stiles mutters dammit. 

Turning back to him, I hold up a tiny needle. “Your turn.”

Stiles’ eyes widen briefly, holding up his hands as he steps back from you, “Woah, woah, be careful with that thing.”

You scoff, “Stiles, it's a sewing needle.”

“Well, I still haven’t completely agreed to this. How do I know you’re not tricking me into draining all of my blood?”

You roll your eyes, “Stiles I just need one drop. And then you’re free to go off on your date with Scott.”

Stiles rolls his eyes this time.

I try to fix him with a genuine look for the first time in the months we’ve known each other. “Come on. Haven’t I made it clear enough that this is important to me? I seriously would not have brought you here if it wasn’t. Don’t make me beg.”

“I’d kind of like to see-”

“Reminder, I can kill you.”

“Alright,” he groans, “Let’s just get this over with. Did I mention I hate needles?”

“Aw poor baby’s scared of a tiny needle,” you fake pout.

“Oh my god shut up, like you’re not afraid of anything.”

“Yeah, I’m afraid of admitting something embarrassing like that.”

“Okay, just stab me already.”

You chuckle and take another step closer to him, holding out your left hand. Stiles takes a deep breath and apprehensively places his hand upwards into yours, and you gently hold the tip of his pointer finger. Stiles glances around the room, wanting to look anywhere but you pricking him with the needle, as minor as it is. 

“Jesus, I can feel your pulse, you need to calm down.” you comment. 

“Sorry that I’m a generally anxious person.”

“Yeah I gathered that over the last year from the fact that you literally never stop talking,” you snicker, “Have you always been like this?”

“As long as I can remember.”

“And it doesn’t drive Scott crazy?”

“Well, I think Scott, like most sane people, finds it endearing.” 

“Oh. Does Lydia find your constant yammering endearing?” 

“Woah, okay, there’s no need to bring her into this,” Stiles sighs rubbing his head, “Can you just prick me?”

“I already did,” I reply, making Stiles whip his head back, staring at his finger between yours, and sure enough, a red drop of blood was already forming. 

“When did you…” Stiles whispers.

I shrug, dropping the needle into a bin beside my desk. “I kept you distracted.”

Stiles watches you quietly, his lips slightly parted in disbelief, while you guide his hand over the pot and gently squeeze his finger so three drops of his blood fall into the potion with a hiss. Stiles grimaces at the pressure but it's not as bad as he thought. He’s trying to get over the fact that you tried to make this a little less painful for him by pricking him with the needle while he wasn’t thinking about it. It was surprisingly…thoughtful?

“There, the final touch,” you murmur. You turn back to face him, his hand still in yours.

“Great. Do you happen to have a bandaid for the patient?” He asks. 

“No need,” I reply, grabbing a small piece of gauze from the table and placing it over his finger to stop the blood. 

Stiles once again watches you carefully. As you apply the pressure to his finger, he takes note of the way you bite your lip while you concentrate. After a few more quiet moments, you toss the piece of gauze away and gently press your thumb into his pointer finger and close your eyes, murmuring something under your breath. Once you open your eyes, you look back down at his finger and suddenly there is no puncture wound. 

“There, good as new.” 

You finally look back up at him - his face closer to yours than you remember - and he’s still staring at you silently. 

“What? Were you expecting me to kiss it better?”

Stiles shakes his head, snapping out of his stupor. “Wha- no! No. Just…not used to you using your powers for good.”

I shake my head and finally release his hand, turning back to the pot and start mixing it all together. 

Stiles clears his throat and glances over your shoulder. “So what now? You mix everything together in the pot and boom, you’re good to go?”

“Cauldron,” you correct, “And I also have to pour it into the vial and cast an incantation to activate it.”

Stiles nods, genuinely intrigued by the process. He watches you quietly mix everything for another minute or so, before you reach for the tiny vial, and then you basically ladle an ounce of it into the small tube.”

“Wow, that’s a lot of potion you’re not using. Do witches care about waste?”

I fix Stiles with a hard look and he holds up his hands in surrender. He continues watching you close your hand around the vial tightly and hold it to your chest, once again quietly reciting an incantation. Stiles is almost certain the words you are saying are in Latin, and again, he’d never admit it to anyone, but he was kind of impressed. 

When you are finished, you open your hand and look down to study the vial. From over your shoulder, Stiles sees the vial now has a slight green glow to it. 

“Assuming it worked?” Stiles comments.

You shrug, “I guess the only way to truly find out if it didn’t is if one of those witches show up here.”

Stiles nods and then proceeds to stand there and watch you struggle to get the chain clasped around your neck. 

He snorts, “What, is there no spell to put on a necklace?”

You roll your eyes, “Shut up.”

He can’t help but chuckle as he stands up straighter. “Look, do you- I mean, would you want…I could..”

You groan, tired of listening to him ramble, “What?”

“I could help you, you know!” Stiles exclaims in annoyance. “God I don’t even know why I offer.”

You frown, too stubborn to stop trying but also too frustrated to keep going. Sighing, you remove your hands from around your neck and forcefully place it in his hands, “It's one of those stupid, teeny tiny clasps that aren’t meant for human sized fingers.”

Stiles chuckles as he takes each end of the necklace into his hands, while you turn around and move your hair out of the way. “Are you saying you know of non-human fingers that handle necklaces because if so I’m crossing my fingers for a tiny mouse because that would be adorable.”

You bite back a smile, thankful you’re not facing him, “Shut up.”

Stiles keeps chuckling to himself as he brings the necklace around your neck, and carefully works to clasp it. He definitely also doesn’t use the time to inhale your scent and start to wonder if you use some kind of fragrance or if witches have a naturally alluring smell. 

As you impatiently hold your hair and try not to think about the cramp forming in your arm, you also definitely aren’t thinking about the feeling of his warm breath on the back of your neck and praying he doesn’t see any goosebumps form on your skin. 

“There,” Stiles whispers unintentionally soft, making him clear his throat in surprise, taking a steep step back, “All done.”

You let out a quiet sigh of relief, dropping your hair and turning around. “Thanks. For the assist and the blood donation.”

Stiles snorts with a nod, “Yeah.”

I look down at the amulet I created and gently hold it in my hands, “Seriously though. You know I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important. So…thank you.”

Stiles swallows and nods firmly, a little unsettled by the sincerity of the last few minutes, “...You’re welcome.”

You nod as well, unsure of where to go from here. “Well, I guess now your services are no longer needed and you are free to go, and we are free to proceed with business as usual; only speaking when we see each other against our will.”

Stiles huffs, crossing his arms, “What if I want to stay a little longer?”

You raise your eyebrows, “Why?”

“I have a few more questions.”

“Haven’t I told you enough?”

“I think I’m entitled to some more information,” Before you retort, he barrels on, “Look if some evil coven could potentially be invading Beacon Hills - ideally not since that spell should prevent that from happening, so you say - I think I have the right to know more about what's going on so I can be prepared for it.”

“And how exactly will you, Stiles Stilinski, prepare for that?”

“By…telling Scott…”

You snort and nod. Well fair enough I guess. “What else do you want to know?”

“How dangerous are we talking? Like, how badly do these people want you dead?” 

You shrug, “I’ve only heard stories about how the feud originated. Supposedly, my family at some point in time, did something to steal powers from this other family.”

“Well it sounds like you guys are the bad guys in this scenario. Which tracks knowing you.”

“Well I’m pretty sure they did it in retaliation to them killing someone in my family in cold blood.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh. So this thing goes back generations but I’m pretty sure something must have happened between my mom and this woman from that coven. I don’t know what, but she in particular has a vendetta against her and our family.”

“Is she the witch you had a run in with this summer?”

“No,” you frown looking down, “It was her son.” 

Stiles’s eyebrows raise, “Oh. And did he immediately try to kill you with some spell at first sight?”

I shake my head, “Nope. He just…pretended to be someone else to gain my trust and subsequently asked me out just for me to find out none of it was real and he was trying to get to my magic the whole time.”

Stiles widens his eyes with each new piece of information, his stomach dropping as he learns that this guy used and manipulated you. Yeah you definitely weren’t the bad guy in this scenario. 

“So, fun summer for me. How was yours?” You ask looking back up at him with a blank look on your face.

Stiles ignores your attempt to diffuse the conversation. “So you were seeing this guy all summer thinking he was some innocent…fling…and the whole time he was actually plotting to, what, kill you? Take your powers?”

“Something like that,” You shrug, “I didn’t stick around long enough to find out the end game with that one.”

“How did he even track you down in the first place if you’ve been hiding away here your whole life.”

“Apparently they’ve been biding time in Salem, hoping one day I’d find my way there to train with other witches. And I didn’t even know there were people to look out for until a few days ago, when I was talking to another witch I had met, who recognized his mom in a picture. I left on the spot and haven’t seen him since.”

“Did you tell him where you were from?”

“Nope, was trying to go for the whole, casual, mysterious summer fling thing.” you chuckle humorlessly. “That worked out so well for me.”

Stiles sighs, “So he has no idea where to look for you, and that amulet should keep him from getting any hints.”

“Yup.”

“And after all this…your parents are still out there hiding from them, too?” 

You nod, looking down again, “Yeah…sometimes I wonder if they’re even still alive.”

Stiles frowns, “Jesus…now I’m almost sorry for…”

“No, no,” You shake your head, your face twisting in discomfort. “Don’t do that. This isn't what we do. You don’t feel sorry for me. You despise me. And honestly I prefer that version of us, I can’t stand the thought of you sympathizing with me.”

“Okay, okay,” Stiles holds his hands up, “I get it. You know maybe I’m not sorry, because a fucked up childhood doesn’t excuse the shit you did to us last year with Peter, and the generally annoying shit you’ve done since.”

You make a face but don’t argue with him.

Stiles continues staring you down, with an unfamiliar look on his face. “But…that shit that guy pulled on you this summer…even you don’t deserve to be taken advantage of like that.”

Your eyes slowly revert back to looking at his face, trying not to give away how vulnerable you felt sharing that information; not to mention how vulnerable you were this summer just to have that blow up in your face. You shift slightly, still uncomfortable with the atmosphere surrounding you two right now. You cross your arms tightly across your chest. 

“Thanks…”

The two of you let the moment hang in the air for another few seconds before you clear your throat, not being able to stand the sincerity any longer.

“Well I guess next time I try to have a casual fling, I shouldn’t do it with a stranger I knew for all of a day before going out with him.”

Stiles chuckles dryly, “Guess not. Maybe you’d be better off getting to know a guy for a while first. If you can keep one around long enough without driving them up the wall.”

“Ha ha. Because you’re the picture of a guy with a successful love life. Remind me of the last time Lydia gave you a second look?”

Stiles glares at you, as he starts to sputter, “She…was looking at me when I was playing in that lacrosse game.”

“Oh so over three months ago? Wow you’re making huge strides.”

“Look, I’m playing the long game alright?” 

I shake my head, “God, I don’t know why you even bother.”

Stiles' jaw teeters open and closed, “What? Is it that out of the realm of possibility that she could ever like me?”

“No, I just meant you could do better.”

Stiles stutters but no words immediately form in response to that. He stares at you blankly for a few beats. “I can do better? Me? Can do better than Lydia Martin?”

You roll your eyes, “You say that like she’s God's gift to this Earth.”

“Yeah, well…she’s still nice - sometimes - and highly intelligent, not to mention gorgeous.”

“Stiles, I’m not trying to disparage your precious Lydia, I just think you could do better than someone who doesn’t give you the time of day.”

“What…What do you mean?”

“Well for one it's kind of pathetic you’ve been hung up on her for so long with no reciprocation whatsoever.”

“Okay, I wouldn’t say-”

“And second, I don’t understand why a guy like you can’t find a girl who actually likes him back.”

“Well you say that like I’ve got a parade of girls waiting in line to date me.”

You shrug, “Trust me, there are some.”

Stiles scoffs, “Yeah right.”

“I think you're underestimating how many girls just want a sweet guy who will treat them well with a moderately nice face.” 

Stiles shifts awkwardly, “Is that your type?”

“My tastes are a little more refined than that.”

“Well how do you know most girls see me that way?”

“Because objectively speaking, you do have a moderately nice face. Maybe even a step above that. And look at you, you grew your hair out this summer. Do that to impress Lydia?”

Stiles flushes, “Well not just…”

“Because I’m sure it will work on plenty of other girls when they see you at school next week.”

Stiles lets out a deep breath, looking at you curiously, “Why are you saying all this?”

You uncross your arms and sigh, taking a step towards him, “Look I’m just stating facts, and maybe I can spare you a compliment since you helped me out tonight. You deserve better than waiting for someone who may never come around. And maybe, who knows, I’m wrong and one day Lydia will come to her senses and see what's right there in front of her. But don’t waste all your time doing nothing. You could at least have fun in the meantime. And I’m sure there are plenty of girls who would jump at the chance.”

You give Stiles’ shoulder what should be a supportive squeeze, but because it's the two of you it feels wrong. You awkwardly lift your hand and pat him a couple times before retracting your arm all together.

Stiles stares at you, once again in awe, confused why you’re being so civil with him…let alone…kind? His eyes hone in on the way your nose scrunches up when you instantly regret touching his shoulder, and the way your lip curves up in amusement as you look back up at him. Your eyes have a warm glow amidst the candles lighting up your room. And he’s once again in close enough proximity to you to inhale your scent; a mix of vanilla, berries, and amber. 

Yeah it definitely must be a witch thing, because he somehow finds himself being drawn closer to you. And before he knows it, he’s leaning completely in and kissing you. 

It's a rare occurrence for you to be taken by surprise, but you do jump slightly when his lips touch yours. He did it so fast you didn’t even have a chance to process it, let alone prevent it from happening. You don’t immediately kiss back but you don’t immediately pull away either, chalking it up to the shock. 

Stiles very quickly realizes what he’s doing and the fact that you’re not reciprocating as he pulls away slightly to take in your full reaction.

You narrow your eyes at him slightly, “I didn’t mean me.” 

Stiles’ eyes widen and his lips part, once again struggling to form words as he starts to pull back.

For some reason you’ll probably never understand, you instinctively reach out to hold his arms to keep him in place. He looks at your hands and then back to your face curiously. 

You quietly breathe out, “I also didn’t say to stop.”

Stiles breath hitches, his lips curving up just slightly before he dives towards your lips again. 

This time you instantly kiss back, pulling him closer by cupping either side of his face, as his arms come to snake around your waist. 

As the kiss becomes more intense, Stiles reluctantly pulls away for oxygen. 

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” he murmurs breathlessly, pressing his forehead against yours.

“You started it,” you muse, chasing after his lips.

He laughs softly, letting you kiss him deeply another few minutes before he gently caresses your face, pulling away.

“And I don’t hate what we’re doing but it's also very out of character. For both of us.”

“To make out with a hot person?”

“No,” Stiles sighs, but can’t fight the blood rushing to his cheeks, “I mean making out with each other. Honestly, this whole night has been out of character. We normally can’t stomach being in each other’s vicinity for more than five minutes.”

“Well if you haven’t noticed, this activity doesn’t require a whole lot of talking so I’m finding it easier to tolerate you.” 

You watch Stiles roll his eyes, trying to rationalize what’s happening between you two. So you take a deep breath.

“Look, we’re not going to suddenly stop despising each other but there’s nothing wrong with two consenting people having a little fun. And you know…probably never speaking about it again.”

Stiles shifts the weight between his feet, becoming overwhelmed by the situation and the possibilities of where it could go; possibilities that both scare and excite him. And he can’t figure out what emotion is winning out. 

“This probably won’t come as a shock to you,” Stiles speaks up again quietly, not meeting your eyes, “But I’ve never really…been with a girl…like this.”

The corner of your lips curl up. It wasn’t new information, but there was something about seeing this boy who usually goes toe to toe in insults with you be so open and honest with you.

You place your hands over his where they still rest on either side of your face. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. We can go as far as you want. Or we can stop now and pretend like this never happened. You are more than welcome to go.”

“I don’t think I want to go,” Stiles whispers hoarsely.

“Then don’t go,” You whisper back, leaning closer again.

“You’d really want to do this too?”

“Yes-”

“Because I know why I want to but why do you want to? After the guy you were with this summer I would have thought you’d be more…selective.”

“Oh that's exactly what I’m doing.”

“And you want to be with me? Why?”

“Because unlike the last guy, I know what I’m getting with you Stiles,” You state simply, “You’re a good guy. This has no chance of going anywhere. Absolutely no feelings whatsoever to get in the way. It’s perfect.”

Stiles stares at you, taking in your expression for any sign of uneasiness or lies. But he can tell you’re dead serious. His skin starts to burn in anticipation. 

“So we’re doing this,” He says softly, somewhere between a question or a statement. 

“I’m in if you’re in.”

“We do this once and we never talk about it again.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“And no one, and I mean no one finds out about this. I mean it, you can’t tell anyone.”

You scoff, “Trust me, I plan to take this to the grave. You should be more concerned with yourself. I can’t see you going five minutes without squealing to Scott that you’ve finally seen a girl naked.”

Stiles closes his eyes and groans, praying you can’t see him blush again. He also can’t even process the fact that he is indeed about to see a girl naked.

After a moment, Stiles finally says, “I don’t have to tell Scott everything.”

“Okay, if you really believe that.” He rolls his eyes, making you chuckle. “So are you game, Stilinski?”

Stiles’ eyes flit across your face, before settling back on your lips. “Fuck it.”

He kisses you deeply and the two of you tug at each other like your bodies are never close enough. Your hands wander over his body until they end up at the buttons of his flannel, and you haphazardly start to undo them before he pulls away briefly to help you get it off of him. He shivers as your cold fingertips trace the contours of his chest and stomach, but he doesn’t get a chance to linger on the feeling as you kiss him again. He takes his turn to pull off your jacket, before sliding his fingers under the hem of your shirt, which you help him maneuver over your head. You once again only let him have a few seconds to take in your exposed skin, only your bra separating you two from complete skin to skin contact, before you’re pulling him back to you again.

“Do you have…” you mutter against his skin as you start to kiss down his jaw and neck, “Protection?”

Stiles’ stomach twists with nerves and excitement as he nods. “Yeah, I have a condom in my wallet.”

You smile against his skin, trailing down to his collarbone, “Been hoping one day Lydia would want to jump your bones?”

Stiles groans, tangling his fingers into your hair, “God, shut up.”

You chuckle darkly before gently pushing against his chest so you can move onto your bed. 

Time passes in a hazy blur as you and Stiles finish undressing each other between sloppy and heated kisses. You try to go at a moderate pace with him, despite your own eagerness. To your pleasant surprise, Stiles is a quick learner as you talk him through how to touch you and make you feel good. And he makes you feel very good. And despite his own timidness and learning curve, he is very attentive to your needs as well as your comfort levels, constantly checking in and making sure you’re okay. 

You’re more than okay by the time you’re done, the two of you collapsing back onto the bed, sweaty and panting.

“Holy shit,” he breathes out staring at the ceiling. 

You smirk, pulling the sheet up to cover yourself, “Yup.”

You lay in silence for a few moments as you catch your breaths before Stiles speaks again.

“I hope tonight makes us even, because I think that counts as two additional favors,” He says teasingly, but when you don’t immediately respond, his head turns to you quickly, “You finished both times right?”

You chuckle softly and nod, turning your head towards him as well, “I did.”

“Good,” he sighs in relief, “I did, too.”

“I know you did.”

Stiles rolls his eyes but laughs softly, “Right.”

“And I’d say I was the one doing the favor,” You muse, “Now the next time you find a girl willing to sleep with you, you’ve got some tricks up your sleeve.”

He huffs with a nod, “I guess you’re right.” Another few moments of silence pass between you when Stiles looks at you again, and asks softly, “But seriously, it was good for you?”

You roll your eyes, “Yes.”

“Like, you’re not just saying that to make me feel better?”

“When have I ever worried about preserving your feelings? Trust me, if it was bad or you were doing something wrong I would have told you.”

“Yeah I guess that’s true,” he sighs. Another beat. “But like on a scale of one to ten?”

“Stiles!”

“I know, I know.” he regresses. “Can I ask for real though - and full permission to punch me if this is insensitive - but compared to the last guy…was I better?”

He watches you stare at him blankly for a few seconds before he starts to back pedal. “Probably not right? He was probably way more experienced even if he..”

“This was better.” 

He turns to you again in surprise. 

“You were better.”

Stiles stutters, “R-really?”

You nod, “You’re not an asshole who only thinks about himself. Don’t ever lose that quality.”

Stiles smiles softly, his cheeks warming up again. 

“Seriously, it was good. Great even,” You continue, “If that’s what you’re like with me, I can’t imagine how good it would be with a girl you actually like.”

That last statement was like a bucket of cold water splashing over him. Right. You guys hated each other. And you were still the same girl who made his life inexplicably harder this year. But those things were easy to forget while he stared at you, your messy hair splayed across your pillow, your bare skin lit by the soft glow of the candles in your room, with a few noticeable marks across your collarbone that he was responsible for. 

But this would be the first and last time this ever happened. And he will probably have complicated feelings about it for the foreseeable future, knowing the memory of his first time will always connect him to you. But he surprisingly feels less guilty than he would have thought.

“I should probably go,” He whispers after another few seconds of taking her and the moment in. Part of him wishes he didn’t have to leave at all and continue living in this bubble of false reality and denial. But he thinks his brain takes over in an act of self preservation to get out of there before he gets in too deep. 

“Yeah, you probably should,” You whisper back, taking a deep breath. 

He watches you sit up, dragging the sheet covering you up with you. He sucks in a breath as you grab a dark purple robe off of your bedpost and slip it on, covering the rest of your body and taking the image away from him. With that, he also forces himself up, locating his boxers and jeans on the floor and pulling them on. 

You circle your bed as he starts to pull on his flannel again. He feels nervous under your gaze, and about how to act right now, making him fumble with the buttons. Without a word, you reach out and slowly and quietly help him finish buttoning it. He takes this one last opportunity to watch your face at this level of proximity, knowing he’ll probably never have the chance to do that again. 

As you finish the top button, you look up at his gaze still laser focused on you, and for some reason he doesn’t feel compelled to look away. 

“Thank you for tonight,” You say softly with a small smirk playing at your lips, “Thought I just needed a protection spell after the summer I had, but I guess I needed that as well.”

Stiles feels himself smirk too, “Happy to be of service to both.”

You slide your hands across his chest, smoothing out his shirt before taking a deep breath and step back. 

“So, business as usual? I’m sure we’ll run into each other again once Scott gets himself into some more supernatural shit, and we’ll be back at each other’s throats in no time.”

Stiles chuckles, “I look forward to it.”

You give him your version of a tiny genuine smile. “Do you need me to walk you out?”

He shakes his head, “I’m sure I can find my way.”

You nod, also taking in his appearance under the glow of the candles while you can. You decide to take the opportunity to close the distance between the two of you and kissing him chastely one last time. 

Stiles closes his eyes and reciprocates automatically, but the kiss is over before its even begun. He watches you pull away from him, unable to tear his eyes away from yours.

“Goodnight, Stiles,” you whisper before stepping away and walking around him towards your desk again to clean up.

With his back towards you now, he smiles to himself, huffing in disbelief at the night he’s had. 

“Goodnight,” He says back softly as he takes steps towards your door. He glances back at you one last time, before leaving and finding his way back downstairs and out your front door. 

Once he shut the door after sliding into the driver's seat, he lets out a long deep breath and rubs his face. Losing his virginity to his self-proclaimed mortal enemy was not on his bingo card for the night - or ever. But the more he sits with it, the more he’s weirdly pleased that it happened. Honestly, it was like best case scenario. Figuring out sex with someone he’s not trying to impress - well, to a certain degree - took some of the pressure off. And now he doesn't have to think about it anymore. Unfortunately, it was really good. Extremely good. Too good to just have been a one time thing, and part of him is disappointed there’s no chance of ever experiencing it again. 

It was for the best. The moment hell freezes over is when he’d have actual feelings past irritation and mild rage when it came to you. So he shakes his head, putting their night together behind him as he pulls out of your driveway.

Still in your bedroom, you lean against the wall watching him drive away from the window. You smile to yourself, having a sneaking feeling this wouldn’t be the last time the two of you do this. Stiles just didn’t know it yet.

author's note: dying to know what people think of this, not the type of stuff i usually write. firstly, sorry for the lack of steam, i've never written smut and not sure i ever will but hope it alluded to enough for yall. also again, took my witch idea and flipped it into an alternate universe where the reader is a lil evil. there are elements of the other pieces i'm writing that assumes similar lore/backstory for the witch, but in this version, you don't grow up as stiles & scott's bff, you're isolated leading to some villianous tendancies. i also know i hinted at a lot of back story with some pieces from seasons 1-2, with this ultimately taking place right before season 3. so i have some ideas of writing other parts that dive into some of those moments, plus more parts that come after this of course. so let me know what kind of stuff you're interested in seeing from evil!witch x stiles (evil being used pretty loosely) THANK YOU FOR READING!

[fuji09]

I had a sad thought in the shower about Derek Hale.

So everyone pretty much agrees (that I have seen) that Derek forgave Scott for forcing him to give the bite to Gerard in the season 2 finale.

But did he?

Derek has like zero self worth. With everything that has happened to him, Paige, Kate, the fire, Peter, Laura, trying to be an alpha, trying to teach Scott and his betas, being a fugitive twice, almost dying, being hunted and shot, and everything else, could it be possible Derek didn't forgive Scott because in his mind there was nothing to forgive?

Could Derek be so used to being used, having bad shit happen to him, and having zero control over his life and body that he just sees it as another bad thing that happened to him and accepts it even though that boy is owed many many apologies from a lot people?

Not even processing it, just accepting that it happened and won't think about it again. I could see Derek bottling up his feelings on it. The next episode we get is the first episode of season 3a and Derek acts like nothing happened, he talks to Scott and is basically just allies/friends with him.

Scott seemed to not be around people, even Stiles, very much over the summer, studying and reading. Which is great! Go Scott!

But it's just so weird that the last exchange we see with Scott and Derek (if I'm remembering it correctly) is at the warehouse when it all went down but then we go into season 3a which is after the summer and they seem cool with each other. I feel like we are missing something or Derek really needed some self worth and self love.

This post is not bashing anyone so please don't think that. It's not about if Scott should apologize either. It was a thought about Derek that popped in my head and I needed to get it out there and see if anyone else feels or thinks the same way.

If I have to be sad over my blorbos, so do y'all! I'm kidding, please don't get sad.

[oswildin]

MY LOKI SPOTIFY PLAYLISTS

(and marvel related playlists)

POV PLAYLISTS (YOU X LOKI)

pov: enemies to lovers with loki laufeyson (it’s complicated) // “would you bleed for me?” - halsey // features artists like: florence + the machine, billie eilish, maneskin, rihanna, arctic monkeys (indie rock/dark pop)

pov: best friends to lovers with loki laufeyson // “pauses then says ‘you’re my bestfriend’, you knew what it was, he is in love.” - taylor swift // features artists like: mitski, lorde, the 1975, lana del rey, taylor swift (indie pop/ballads/soft pop)

pov: you’re in love with loki laufeyson despite everything (angst) // “but you love me wrong.” - allie x // features artists like: marina, melanie martinez, aurora, olivia rodrigo, miley cyrus, allie x (indie pop/soft pop/power ballads)

pov: loki wants to do “terrible, awful things… to you” // “think I need someone older.” - isabel larosa // features artists like: she wants revenge, beyonce, the neighbourhood, the weeknd, k.flay, isabel larosa (electronic pop/dark pop)

pov: relaxing with loki laufeyson // “calm again, i feel warm again.” - aurora // features artists like: mitski, the 1975, taylor swift, billie eilish, bleachers, aurora (soft pop/acoustic pop/indie)

pov: you domesticated loki laufeyson and now you’re dancing in the kitchen // “if you dance, I’ll dance.” - lana del rey // features artists like: abba, børns, adele, the goo goo dolls, harry styles, lana del rey (mixed genres/feel good/ballads)

pov: you give loki an ipod with songs you think he’d like // “one day I’ll watch as you’re leaving cause you got tired of my scheming.” - taylor swift // features artists like: rina sawayama, twenty one pilots, marina, billie eilish, lady gaga, taylor swift (mixed genres/pop/soft pop)

LOKI CHARACTER PLAYLISTS

songs that are loki coded // “the truth is you have to be soft to be strong.” - marina // features artists like: panic at the disco, melanie martinez, linkin park, idkhbtfm, aurora, marina (mixed genres/pop/rock/electronica)

songs that are thor!loki coded (don’t ask me why) // “tired of being what you want me to be.” - linkin park // features artists like: twenty one pilots, royal & the serpent, willow, yungblud, aurora, linkin park (indie rock/indie pop)

songs that are avengers!loki coded (don’t ask me why) // “live a villain, die an icon.” - ashnikko // features artists like: halsey, poppy, demi lovato, rina sawayama, maneskin, ashnikko (rock/dark pop)

songs that are dark world!loki coded (don’t ask me why) // “you set my soul alight.” - muse // features artists like: depeche mode, nine inch nails, mother mother, my chemical romance, muse (rock/dark pop/indie)

songs that are ragnarok!loki coded (don’t ask me why) // “I know I created myself.” - aurora // features artists like: idkhbtfm, imagine dragons, maneskin, marina, gerard way, aurora (indie rock/indie pop)

songs that make me think of s1 of loki // “I don’t wanna be a monster anymore.” - rina sawayama // features artists like: gorillaz, grimes, twenty one pilots, blondie, lorde, rina sawayama (indie pop/dark pop/rock)

songs that make me think of s2 of loki // “all of this is temporary.” - halsey // features artists like: aurora, paramore, poppy, taylor swift, coldplay, halsey (indie pop/rock/ballads)

MARVEL POV PLAYLISTS (YOU X MARVEL)

pov: you’re the villain in the mcu

pov: you’re in the spider-verse

pov: you’re the new avenger

pov: you were betrayed and now you want revenge

pov: songs for your dramatic entrance

pov: you’re a witch

OTHER PLAYLISTS

songs that sylvie listens to in her 1982 pickup truck

songs that are sylvie laufeydottir coded (don’t ask me why)

songs that remind me of sylki

songs that remind me of lokius

pov: loki is drunk at a sakaarian party & the grandmaster is the dj (💅🏻🏳️‍🌈🍸)

songs i’ve written that are marvel character coded

songs that remind me of agathario

[eretzyisrael]

by Dennis Prager

The American Founders’ attitude toward the Jews is summed up in these words of John Adams, second president of the United States:

I will insist the Hebrews have [contributed] more to civilize men than any other nation. If I was an atheist and believed in blind eternal fate, I should still believe that fate had ordained the Jews to be the most essential instrument for civilizing the nations. … The Romans and their empire were but a bubble in comparison to the Jews. They have given religion to three-quarters of the globe and have influenced the affairs of mankind more, and more happily, than any other nation, ancient or modern.

As Israel once made the West, now it is saving the West. This was eloquently stated a few weeks ago by Wall Street Journal columnist Gerard Baker in a column titled, “Israel Defends Itself—and May Save Western Civilization”:

How will we ever repay the debt we owe Israel? What the Jewish state has done in the past year—for its own defense, but in the process and not coincidentally for the security of all of us—will rank among the most important contributions to the defense of Western civilization in the past three-quarters of a century. Israel has in 12 months done nothing less than redraw the balance of global security, not just in the region, but in the wider world. It has eliminated thousands of the terrorists whose commitment to a savage theocratic ideology has claimed so many lives across the region and the world for decades. Above all, it has provided an unexpected but crucial reminder to our enemies that there are at least some willing and able to pursue and defeat them, whatever the risk to our own lives and resources. The only appropriate responses to Israel’s gallantry, fortitude and skill from us—its nominal allies, especially in the U.S.—are ‘thank you’ and ‘how can we help?’ Never in the field of human conflict has so much been owed by so many to so few, Winston Churchill said of the men of the Royal Air Force after they had repelled Hitler’s Luftwaffe during the Battle of Britain. We should echo those words today as we watch in awe what a country smaller in area than New Jersey, with a population less than North Carolina’s and an economy smaller than that of Washington state, has done for all of us.

[lycoperdales]

People that think Scott would ever abandon Stiles because of what happened in season 5 or season 3b make me cackle. Scott??? Turn away from a possible murderer?????? Let me just give you his track record.

- Peter Hale: Tried to make Scott kill all of his friend by forcing him to shift against his will, wake up in the middle of the forest with no recollection all while Scott was trying to understand what werewolf even was. = Amicable relationship, never forced him to part from his nephew, only ever truly fought him when he wanted to hurt others.

-Jackson: All round asshole, killed people in his sleep, literally bullied Scott and threatened to ‘out’ him to a family of werewolf hunters. = More than amicable relationship, Scott defended Jackson more than once and was the one of the only people that fought to save him.

-Gerard: do I even need to say anything.= Found a way to subdue him without killing him (#chemist Scott), didn’t harbour any bad feelings towards Chris when he healed his father in season 6

-Chris Argent: Shot him in the fucking arm for no reason, threatened to blow his brains out for being together with his daughter= literal besties

-Victoria Argent: tried to suffocate him to death= didn’t say anything to ANYONE because he didn’t want to tarnish her memory

-Deucalion: calls himself “The Demon Wolf”= besties, Scott’s trust in his goodness turned him into a pacifist and an ally on multiple occasions.

-Theo: isolated him from his pack before killing him= Didn’t completely freak out on Liam for reviving him even though Theo killed him less than six months ago. One can argue that he would’ve totally housed Theo if he knew Theo was homeless

Y’all think he would kick Stiles out for supposedly bashing one dudes brains out with a wrench??? One pesky murder??????

Scott is the walking personification of “but mother I can fix him”, he was overwhelmed at the moment with a bunch of teenagers dying and Malia wanting to kill her mum and Kira wanting to fight everyone and now Stiles supposedly killed someone. His reaction was understandable and he handled it like a champ I’d say. But he would NEVER EVER abandon his brother, murder and miscommunication be damned.

[starsmuse]

neverafter premiere night so here are some thoughts!

emily axford is truly godsent. the relationship she and ally have already crafted between ylfa and timothy, the way she plays this congested prepubescent girl, her backstory scene; god, the entirety of her backstory scene was SO good, though, i don’t know why i’m surprised. emily axford has never been anything shy of perfection and she won’t start now in a season where her ability to act really needs to shine through. also the fact that she’s playing a barbarian, i am so glad i guessed correctly because it’s going to be so fun to watch her play one especially with how they’ve set it up.

lou fucking wilson. i love everything about his character, his backstory which i LOVE that they left for last. this season seems to be one for double intros and he and zac are going to be incredible together i KNOW it. i made a few guesses as to who would be what class and NOTHING could have prepared me for him being a warlock to his stepmother, the way they’re interweaving the fairytales is brilliant i am truly so excited.

zac oyama… i love him with the entirety of my being but i couldn’t help but feel slightly underwhelmed with his backstory scene, like no way he’s just some random little cat that can speak? surely there’s more to him! i love the almost-brotherly relationship pib and pinocchio seem to have but i do have a theory i’ll run by you all: we all know in the disney retelling of cinderella, stepmother has a black cat named lucifer, i wonder if pib is another patron of pinocchio’s stepmother or maybe a familiar of hers sent to watch over pinocchio and ensure he isn’t messing things up. JUST A THOUGHT! if not, i’m genuinely very excited to get more backstory out of this character.

opening the show on siobhan’s introduction was obviously the way to go considering how beautifully she executed her scene. the briars… god, the briars. i have no issue with reading and listening to body horror and brennan painted a vivid word picture with his narration for her, it was all so good. i constantly complain about the intrepid heroes never having a ranger and they’ve finally got one and it’s the damsel princess, i absolutely adore that. i also love that rosamund still has that bit of naivety to her considering in her mind she’s still eighteen and she probably lived a pretty sheltered life all things considered. her simply knowing that there’s a prince out there looking for her and that he is her true love, i can’t wait to see what kind of spin brennan is going to put on this curse and inevitably what kind of curveball he’s going to throw siobhan/rosamund.

murph is playing this vapid and vain prince so well, but i cannot wait to see when he actually gets into this fighting that prince gerard seems to turn his nose up at. the scenes with princess elody were bordering on heartbreaking but still fully leaning into embarrassing on the prince’s part, i have an inkling as to why he’s regressing back into his frog form, as should most, but all in all i think this is going to be a pretty silly character, very cody-esque, one that i’m very excited to see and watch grow nonetheless. also, the whole exchange between prince gerard and princess rosamund, i hadn’t realized how little i’d seen murph and siobhan’s characters interact in previous seasons until i got a full and uninterrupted conversation between the two of them when their characters met and now it’s truly all i want to have them be silly little cousins fighting to protect each other.

finally, the person, the myth, the legend: ally beardsley. i hadn’t really though about how important mother goose would be to the plot as a whole until about a week before today because i know that mother goose is not only a writer of fairytales but the writer of the fairytales, so i really, really enjoyed a lot of timothy’s exposition and how much he cares for children—like ylfa—now that he’s lost his own. like i said before i am thoroughly endeared by the relationship ally and emily have already built between the two of them, and i cannot wait to watch it grow and i’m really excited to see what ally does with this character and where they go.

brennan hasn’t answered any of the questions that were asked about if this season is going to be similar to acoc in terms of lethality or if the pcs have created secondary characters, so i think it’s safe to say we should definitely be cautious considering there are no clerics in this party, but all in all i’m shaking with excitement and the thought of the rest of this season we’ve got like seventeen episodes to go and i think they’re going to be SO much fun.

[supernaturalcharlie11]

Ylfa has never been the type of girl who follows the path that stretches out in front of her. So when she was confronted with writing her story anew, she could only bring herself to write a few lines:

Once upon a time, there was a young girl who loved her grandma very much. Her name was Ylfa Snorgelson. But she was better known as Little Red Riding Hood.

She tucked the page away. There was no need to write more. She would stray from the path anyway. And she knew exactly what was waiting for her at the end of the story. An old friend. A part of her lost in the final battle.

The Big Bad Wolf continues to provide an end to all the stories, but she does so in a kinder way than her predecessor. She too has remnants of memories of an adventure that she went on when a part of her was still a little girl.

The day comes, when Death meets the first of her companions again. She finds Timothy Goose surrounded by his husband and son, falling asleep peacefully.

„Old friend“, he greets Death kindly. „Thank you for joining me on this last path.“

„Of course.“

And they walk together, away from something and towards something else that no one in the world could ever understand. Tim tells death about everything he lived through. A life filled with ink, love and an occasional pickle that Tim cherishes very much.

The next two familiar faces meet the Big Bad Wolf shortly after each other. Gerard had lived a life of adventure, finally laying down his life to protect a new ally. Next to death he makes his way down a path that leads into a similar direction as Mother Goose‘s.

Pib, on the other hand, has a lot of reincarnations left. Death, to him, is merely another stop along the way. But when he meets her, he looks a little wary.

„Rest here as long as you want“, the Big Bad Wolf offers. „You deserve a little rest.“

„Thank you“, Pib meows and jumps onto the back of the Wolf that he once knew so well. Prodding his paws into the soft and warm fur, he prepares a little spot to lie down and sleep without an open eye for the first time in his many lifetimes.

Rosamund greets Death like an old friend, bowing deeply as she leaves her life behind. A life filled with wonder and grace, with adventures and saving as many young maidens from what she once knew as destiny. Now she knows it’s nothing even close to that.

„I‘m not the first, am I?“

Death shakes her big head.

„Will I see them again?“

„I don‘t know“, Death admits. „Where this path leads is hidden even from me. But that doesn‘t mean it will be bad. Quite the opposite, I believe.“

And Death turns so that Rosamund might look upon her old friend again, who is still nestled in the warm fur.

„I don‘t think this path is meant for me“, Pib says looking down the road that some of his companions have already taken.

„Then let‘s stray together“, Rosamund smiles and opens her arms. Death watches as Rosamund carries the little cat down a way that even Death herself can‘t tread.

After that, Death spends a lot of time with people she doesn‘t know, but cares about deeply nonetheless.

Then, one night, an older man finds himself by her side. He looks at Death with love in his eyes, recognising something in her that the Big Bad Wolf has already forgotten.

„Will she join me?“, Pinocchio asks, lovingly running his now human hand through the dark fur.

„Was one lifetime not enough?“, Death asks, genuinely curious.

Pinocchio smiles: „Is it ever?“

The last one to join the other side is an old woman in a red cape. She has a spark in her eyes that tells of a lifetime filled with love, crazy decisions along no path anyone could ever form, and an absence of the pain that was once destined for her.

She looks at Death with kindness, not recognising her. But Death does. She looks behind what everyone else could see directly at the young girl who had once been her.

Many upon a times ago.

„Let‘s just sit for a while“, Death offers and the girl gladly accepts.

„Are you waiting at the end of every story?“

The Big Bad Wolf turns to look at her, memories of adventures and friendship returning in a way that Death never thought possible.

„This is not the end, Little Red“, she whispers quietly. „There are a lot of stories left to be written.“

[ollieofthebeholder]

And If Thou Wilt, Forget: a TMA Fanfic

Also on AO3 and my personal website

Chapter 1: Love, strong as Death, is dead

“…Statement ends.” Gertrude sighed and removed her glasses, massaging the bridge of her nose. “Well. That was a waste of time and effort. Promising at the start, but nothing to it. I think this one can go in its proper place.”

She tucked the useless pages back with their unsatisfying fiction back into the file and carried it over to one of the shelves. After a moment’s pause, she reached for a rather thick file, removed several pages from the middle, and tucked them into the false one before shelving it. That statement would do well to be spread out a bit. She took the last few pages out as well, moved the original file to another shelf, and went in search of somewhere to hide the end of the statement.

Hunters. They had their uses, of course, although there was little a Hunter could do that a liter of petrol and a good kitchen match couldn’t do just as well. It was one of the few points she and Adelard had seriously disagreed on—that and the impending emergence of the Extinction.

Gertrude paused and pressed a hand to her chest for just a moment. Contrary to outward appearances, carefully cultivated ones at that, she did mourn the loss of her assistants and allies alike. She just couldn’t afford to let it show. Caring and trust were weaknesses, ones that those she stood in opposition to would be keen to exploit. Not that there was much they could do now, but still, she owed it to Eric to keep his son alive. Or so she told herself.

But Adelard’s death still hurt. It was too raw, she told herself, too fresh a loss to have begun to heal over properly, so it was understandable that her memories of him were still a minefield, needing careful navigation to avoid them blowing up in her face. After all, it had been less than a month.

She missed him.

Gerard wasn’t the same. Among other things, she hadn’t fully brought him in on the truth; he was mostly concerned with Leitners and the man himself, someone she was even more careful to keep from him. And she knew he was only helping her out of a sense of obligation, really. She still hadn’t decided if he would help her take down the rituals—should she ask him—because he wanted to stop them or because he hoped it would pay off a debt she hadn’t bothered to talk him out of thinking he owed.

She probably ought to feel guilty about that.

With a sigh, she stuffed the file carelessly onto a shelf and turned to the door between the Archives and the rest of the Institute. She could do with a cup of tea. While she did have an electric kettle in her office, meaning she never had to interact with anyone else in the building if she didn’t particularly want to, it never hurt to check in with Rosie from time to time and see if anything unusual was going on with…Elias. Not that Rosie had the slightest idea what was actually going on, but she was nosy and Gertrude knew how to use nosy people to her advantage. She loved to gossip, had a habit of picking up information and either hugging it to herself or whispering it in choice ears, and tended to prattle on about seemingly inconsequential nonsense that nevertheless turned out to eventually have a kernel of extremely useful information in it. However clever Elias might be, or might think he was being, Rosie would often drop an innocuous comment about his movements or meetings that revealed startling depths.

She sensed it as soon as she emerged on ground level. Someone with a statement had crossed the invisible boundary that marked what, for lack of a better term, she thought of as her hunting range. Likely just someone walking past, but possibly a visitor actively approaching the Institute for one reason or another. Normally that would be her cue to go back downstairs until whoever it was came to her, departed on their own business, or passed by without stopping. However, the disappointment of the earlier statement was still keen and the hunger was sharp. On an impulse, she found herself veering towards the front door of the Institute without consciously commanding her feet to do so.

Just as she reached it, it swung open, flooding the little entrance hall with daylight. Standing on the threshold was a young man, older than she had been when she became Archivist, but still young—in his early thirties, if Gertrude was any judge. He was good-looking, with cerulean blue eyes and dark hair with auburn highlights, dressed in a crisp white dress shirt and somber black tie beneath a tailored heather tweed jacket, but what caught Gertrude’s attention was the faint pink tint to the whites of his eyes. Either he hadn’t been sleeping, or he’d been crying. Possibly both.

“Timothy Stoker?” she asked.

The young man’s eyes widened briefly, and then he made an attempt at a grin. “I guess you don’t get a lot of visitors here, huh? You must be Rosie Zampano.”

Gertrude mentally kicked herself for an idiot. Sloppy. She knew better than to address people she’d never met by their names before proper introductions were made. Fortunate for her that he had actually called ahead.

“This way, Mr. Stoker,” she said, without acknowledging his assertion.

He followed her docilely enough. They were halfway to the steps leading to the Archives when cold awareness swept over her, accompanied by a prickling on the back of her neck. A cultured voice called from towards the stairs. “Ah, Gertrude—”

“Busy, Elias,” Gertrude interrupted briskly. “I’ll be there when I have finished this discussion.” Without giving him a chance to respond, she hustled her inadvertent guest down the steps and into the Archives.

Stoker looked around as they entered, then, to her surprise, nodded grimly. “Manuscripts? Or research?”

“Statements, actually.” Gertrude studied Stoker with interest. “Encounters with the supernatural, that kind of thing. I imagine you know what is meant by that.”

Stoker shivered, but merely said, “You’re damn right I do.”

Gertrude hummed. “This way.”

She led Stoker into her office, gestured for him to take a seat, and reached for the tape recorder. “You don’t mind if I record this, do you?” she asked. It wasn’t really a question, especially as she’d apparently hit the appropriate button without even realizing.

“Uh…no?” Stoker frowned at her. “That’s…fine.”

“Excellent. Well then.” Gertrude set the recorder on the desk between them. “Statement of Timothy Stoker, regarding…?” She lifted her eyebrows at him, prompting him to continue.

“The disappearance of—of my brother, Danny,” Stoker said, his voice catching slightly.

Gertrude pretended not to notice. “Gertrude Robinson recording, fifth September, 2013.” She nodded. “Whenever you’re ready.”

“I don’t know that I’ll ever be ready, but…sure. Here goes nothing.” Stoker took a deep breath and began speaking.

Gertrude kept her eyes on his face as he spooled out the story. It was quite interesting, on a number of levels. The fact that Stoker was an older sibling who’d lost his younger sibling to one of the Fourteen was hardly unusual and merely fit into a pattern she’d noticed long ago; regardless of what specific fear they preyed upon, the terror of standing by helpless while a person you’d always sworn to protect was utterly destroyed by something too horrifying to comprehend that you couldn’t defend them from added an extra seasoning that They seemed to relish. What was unusual, though, was that Stoker, unlike most of the older siblings she’d heard or read statements from—at least the ones who had lost their siblings later in life—genuinely seemed to love his brother still rather than tolerate at best or even outright resent him.

On top of that was the statement itself. When Stoker first mentioned urban exploration, she expected it to be the Dark or the Buried, and she certainly knew Robert Smirke would be involved, but something…drew her in. And she certainly sat up and took notice when he mentioned the Covent Garden Theater.

A lead? At last?

Stoker’s voice cracked with emotion as he began describing the scene beneath the Royal Opera House, and that really caught her attention. For the most part, people’s emotions…didn’t precisely fade, but at least seemed to be placed on the back burner when they were giving their statements. Stoker wasn’t stammering and stuttering the way even the ones with genuine encounters often did when she wasn’t there to…influence them, but he was aware of what he was saying and feeling it in a way she hadn’t witnessed in a long time—not since the earliest days of her time as Archivist. He had a good grip on himself. She wouldn’t call it a resistance to the Eye, per se, but there was a strength to him she found intriguing.

“The next thing I remember was the cool night air on my face, as the opera house patrons pushed past me to get into the evening performance of Tosca,” Stoker concluded. “In my hands I held an old black and white circus flyer. It was written all over in Cyrillic, but in the bottom left corner was a certain clown’s face, leering out at me, billed as the guest performer. As I watched, it crumbled to ash, and floated away on the breeze.”

Gertrude felt a small pang of regret at that. She did not herself read Russian, but it still would have been nice to have the confirmation. “I don’t suppose you still have your brother’s drawings.”

“As a matter of fact, I do. Here.” To Gertrude’s surprise, Stoker reached into his suit jacket and withdrew a manila envelope. He extracted a few sheets of paper, flicked through them, and withdrew one, then handed it to her.

As he had said, it was a series of simple drawings of the same clown’s face. It was an amazingly skilled likeness, considering it had been done in darkness and distress with a cheap ballpoint pen. There was no mistaking it for anyone else.

“Do you know who this is?” she asked, not expecting a reply.

“Joseph Grimaldi,” Stoker replied unhesitatingly. “Didn’t take long to find a picture that matched up, once I knew what I was looking for.” He gave a short, bitter laugh. “Three weeks ago I would have said there was no way it could be the same one, even if the pictures were identical, but then again three weeks ago I’d have said there couldn’t be a stone theater underneath the Royal Opera House, or a monster that steals people’s skins. Compared to that, a zombie clown is almost mundane. Or ghost or whatever he is.”

"I’m not altogether certain myself,” Gertrude admitted. “It may not be Grimaldi at all, merely something wearing his face.”

“In the clown sense, or in the Appalachian folk horror sense?”

Gertrude blinked, momentarily startled. “I beg your pardon?”

Stoker met her eyes without flinching, which was rare enough these days. “There’s a legend in the Appalachian mountain region of the United States about a monster who lost—”

“I’m familiar with the legend of Skin Tom. What do you mean by ‘the clown sense’?” Gertrude interrupted.

“Oh. When you become a clown, you’re supposed to register your makeup so no other clown can copy it. Some might get passed down when a clown retires, maybe, but the name has to go with it. You wouldn’t catch a clown named, I don’t know, Bonzo wearing a face registered to Grimaldi.”

“You’ve done your research.”

Stoker shrugged. “The egg register is right here in London, and it’s open to the public. I figured it would be a starting place. It’s only really been a thing since the forties, but they do have a historical exhibit with a few of the really high profile faces, and when I went in, there he was. You know, minus the blood. From there it was just a matter of asking the right questions of the right people and they were telling me things they probably didn’t even realize they knew.”

Gertrude studied him sharply, but, no, as she’d rather suspected, he hadn’t been Marked by the Eye. Not yet, anyway. His ability to get people talking and get answers from seemingly innocuous questions and mundane responses was purely down to his charisma and social skills. He’d never be an Archivist, but he would make a remarkably able Assistant.

She caught that thought and suppressed it ruthlessly. No. Not after Emma’s betrayal. She couldn’t trust like that again…

“Well. Thank you for your time,” she said instead. “If you’ll leave your name and contact information, I will be certain to let you know if anything comes of it.”

Stoker huffed out what might have been a very soft, bitter laugh and may have just been an attempt to clear his throat as he handed over the remainder of the papers he had pulled from the envelope. “No offense, and this is probably going to hurt my chances, but this is the strangest job interview I’ve ever had in my life.”

Gertrude froze. She looked down at the papers Stoker had just handed her and realized that she was holding his CV. He hadn’t come to the Institute looking to make a statement—he’d come looking for a job.

The correct thing to do would be to take this upstairs to Rosie and get her to match it with an open position. At the very least, she should ask what department Stoker had meant to interview with. Actually, the correct thing to do would be to lie to this young man and then set fire to his CV as soon as he was out of the Institute, because if he stayed here, he was going to get killed.

On the other hand…

On the other hand, she thought, Elias had clearly been expecting him, and even if she burnt the CV it wasn’t without the realm of possibility that he would call Stoker personally to offer him a job—to trap him in the Institute. If he was in one of the other departments, he wouldn’t know what was going on, and Gertrude wouldn’t be able to warn him thoroughly—she’d been trying with Sasha, and a bit with Rosie, and neither of them really seemed to get it. And with the Stranger having Marked him this deeply, his next encounter would be fatal if he didn’t have some form of protection.

She shouldn’t care. But she did. And she could use the help.

“We tend to do things differently here at the Institute,” she said slowly. She laid down the papers and met his eyes levelly. “Why do you want to work here, Mr. Stoker?”

“Because I want answers,” Stoker answered promptly. “I want to know what it is that killed my brother, and I want to know how to get revenge on it. The Magnus Institute is the only place I might get those answers, and I’m not going to find them just poking around on my own, am I?”

“Not likely,” Gertrude agreed. “This is a salaried position, not hourly, and there would be times I would need your assistance outside what are normally thought of as ‘business hours’. I expect my instructions to be carried out, even if the reasoning behind them seems obscure or unhelpful; I know what I’m doing and I do not give orders lightly. And most importantly, Mr. Stoker, if you accept this position, you will not be able to quit. An appointment to the Archives is an appointment for life. Do you understand me?”

Stoker shrugged and nodded. “Quite frankly, Ms. Robinson, what have I got left to lose?”

Gertrude knew that feeling, far too well. “Well then, Mr. Stoker—”

“Tim. Please.”

“Tim, then.” Gertrude stood and held out her hand. Stoker—Tim—rose and shook it. “Welcome to the Magnus Institute.”

[number1rizgukgakstan]

FANTASY HIGH JUNIOR YEAR EPISODE 19 (PART 1) LIVEBLOG

HERE WE GO FOLKS! THE BEGINNING OF THE END!

Spoilers below (under the cut)

FANTASY HIGH JUNIOR YEAR EPISODE 19 (PART 1) LIVEBLOG

HERE WE GO FOLKS! THE BEGINNING OF THE END!

Spoilers below (under the cut)

"Re-ANKARNATE" Brennan Lee Mulligan the man that you are!!! Excellent pun

Fig Faeth and Gerard Neigh are my favorite animal companion duo ever <333

"Kristen Applebees might be class president in her senior year" crying laughing. Yeah the world is ending but isn't THAT the real thing to stress about??

So do we think that the Thistlesprings are watching the world end from their front porch? Or are they driving the fucking tank across the town to go fuck shit up? I hope they show up.

"This ship isn't actually flying by the way" insane.

"FABIAN DO YOU HAVE A PLACE YOU'RE HOPING TO LIVE?" GORGUG I LOVE YOU

they're putting the seacaster manor by the school's campus I'm crying. Fabian's mom IS going to kill him.

ASK FOR ALLIES! ASK FOR ALLIES! DO NOT BRING K2 BACK AT THE EXPENSE OF BETTER OPTIONS NOOOO

KRISTEN NOOOOOO KRISTEN I GET IT YOU HAVE BIG SISTER HEART BUT I'M CRYING.

ARE THEY ALL MOVING INTO SEACASTER MANOR??? SCREAMING.

Zac Oyama's comedic genius is insane. This man is so fucking brilliant give him a season as a DM

"zelgug fans are finally recovering- WHAT'S THAT? IT'S GORGUG AND UNIT WITH A STEEL CHAIR?????"

"107 degrees farehenheit" average summer temps tbh.

MAZEY! MAZEY! MAZEY! The fact that she's taking everything in stride is brilliant. She's definitely an honorary bad kid now

Ragh + Jawbone flying is a great picture. They're so cool.

I love their strategizing. They're right- Oisin first because wizard's are excellent at crowd control. But Mary Anne needs to go down or be persuaded to not fight ASAP because a powerful barbarian can do massive damage. Gorgug is one example of that- if Mary Anne is allowed to fuck around as much as she wants she'd wipe them out.

Ruben is a lesser threat, as even a high level bard isn't the strongest fighter on the field, but his spell list matters because shit like Irresistible Dance and the higher level buff spells can turn a fight very quickly. Ivy as a Gloomstalker is a problem, but if they can get her to burn her abilities quickly she might be easier to manage. If Buddy's still a Life cleric, he's easier to deal with, but if he switched subclasses upon raging out, a War cleric in particular is a HUGE problem. Offensive clerics are stupid busted.

Honestly is the Ratgrinder's are ACTUALLY level 20, they're going to need a miracle on their side, because level 20 pcs have insane hp and damage outputs, and some of their class skills are busted. Rogue's 'stroke of luck' alone is fucking scary. Not to mention that KLCK might have Elusive if she's level 17, which means RIZ CANT GET SNEAK ATTACKS OFF ON HER. This is INSANE.

ICE FEAST IS REAL!!! FUCK YEAH!!!! 1 level of exhaustion and 1d12 ice damage is insane but the benefits are CRAZY. Holy shit why the FUCK did Kristen never used this before

'Only 1 person needs to be exhausted' and it should be Fabian, actually, because if they only have 1 person on counterspell Jace and Oisin are going to fuck them over so hard.

K2 WITH THE UNION JACK IS ABSURD.

"Fuck it I'm playing the pipes" the most hilarious bit ever especially when they immediately stop being able to fight with the party as soon as he stops concentrating on playing them. 10/10 gag gift

SQUEEM SHOWS UP FOR THE FINAL BATTLE???? HUH??? SQUEEM SHOWS UP??? INSANE ENERGY

Ruben: "why are you so yoked"

Gorgug, in the deepest voice imaginable: "I'm a wizard"

You know what? PEAK Bad Kids energy tonight. We're winning.

"Loser says what" GORGUG IS FUCKING GOING OFF TONIGHT. THE FACT THAT PORTER FELL FOR THAT IS WILD

No one recognizing Fig is so funny. Wanda Childa, the secret seventh Bad Kid

I never noticed Riz has a 6 in strength- no wonder he had to have people load canons for him. Absurd.

PORTER HAD TO BURN A LEGENDARY RESISTANCE??? BEAUTIFUL.

RUBEN's COUNTERSPELL BEING ROBBED BECAUSE OF SLOW IS THE BEST FUCKING MOVE EVER. That takes them down to 2 counterspells a turn, assuming Jace and Oisin both have it prepared, since its a reaction. The ability to prevent multiattacks, slow spells, and force them to use either an action or a bonus action

IVY'S TARGETING HIS FUCKING DOG??? :( EVIL!

Oisin is getting his ass beat by Fig and the Vultures and I love it. Fucking GET THAT BITCH!

"That bitch in the back? I'm gonna skin her alive. She said she was going to do it to Maisey, so I'm gonna do it to her" THATS THAT SEACASTER BLOOD IN HIM!!! Bill would be so proud.

26 AC is wild. Fucking- this battle is going to go so hard I can't wait.

If Ivy dies in 1 turn I'm going to laugh so hard. Most cringefail ranger ever. I love her and hope she gets to come back Aelwyn style.

HOLY SHIT HE DIDN'T EVEN GET TO USE THE ACTION SURGE ATTACKS. HOW LOW WAS IVY????????

"I'm Going to Lose My Virginity to That Girl" FABIAN ARAMAIS SEACASTER, THE MAN, THE MYTH, THE LEGEND.

DOES OISIIN NOT HAVE SHIELD???? WHY DOES OISIIN NOT HAVE SHIELD????? WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED THERE???

Kristen leaping under the disintegrating gym is such a beautiful idea and I need to see fanart immediately.

God, Porter's such an intimidating villain. That's some scary ass shit.

I forgot how fucking powerful Psychic Scream is. Bards get insane shit.

NOOOO THE HANGMAN :(

The party has been doing so well in combat it was bound to take a bad turn at some point

"YOU SUCK AT PVP! YOU SUCK AT PVP!" That was Murph possessing Riz for a brief moment.

The fact that they all have low HP but level 9 spells is fascinating. That's not a natural curve to end up on. They must either have shitty con, or level 10 or so stats but access to higher abilities?

"You're a WASTE OF MY TIME" OUCH. OW! OUCH! GET HIM FIG! That whole speech at Ruben fucking HURTS she got his ass good holy shit.

"BUDDY, BAKARATH IS! NOT! REAL!" I love all of them actually.

They all got clustered together because of Riz's slow and now Adaine is casting SYNAPTIC STATIC??? holy shit. This was the most brutal set-up ever.

HOLY SHIT I FORGOT HOW OP SYNAPTIC STATIC IS. GET FUCKED JACE!!!

HOW the FUCK IS JACE CONCENTRATING ON 4 FUCKING SPELLS??? I WANT WHAT HE HAS

This battle is, again, super fucking scary. They're clearly fighting for their lives right now and they just do not have the numbers or the spell slots. I have to have faith BleeM wouldn't give them a fight they didn't have the resources to win,,,, but oh god is it a nail-biter.

Maybe if we're lucky, Arthur Aguefort will come in with the steel chair? Come on man come back and DO YOUR JOB

FABIAN DROPS???

Jace splitting into multiple versions of himself makes this fight brutal. They just don't have the manpower to fight this many spellcasters.

Kristen should have picked allies </3 it makes sense to pick K2 but god yeah

Gorgug's clutch NAT 20s coming back!

OISIN + IVY are both defeated, meaning that they've gone 2 for 2 so far on main party deaths.

"Make sure to cut his head off so he can't be revivified" CANONICALLY SAID BY RIZ??? THIS IS HIS MOMENT.

Holy shit, Gorgug manhandling Porter is maybe the coolest fucking move ever. Gorgug is the world's GREATEST WIZARD!

OISIN DIDN'T EVEN GET A TURN??? LMAO GET WRECKED DRAGON BOY!

What they need is some kind of powerful magic of their own, but none of them have high level spells left. It sucks ass but they're going to get through it cause these are the BAD KIDS!!!

RIZ IS IMMUNE TO FIRE???? OH MY GOD. LAVA SWIMMING TIME!

Brennan not taking into account what full fire damage immunity would do is maybe the funniest bit of this episode. He's essentially given them free range to play lava shenanigans with his battlefield. He has essentially built a battlefield where ONLY HIS VILLAINS have to worry about the hazards.

The army of spellcasters being unable to counterspell because the Bad Kids are being tactical wizards is so fucking sick. I hope Jace and Reuben feel as useless as they fucking are.

"all the jace's waste their reactions' PEAK CLOWNERY!

NOOOO GORGUG WENT DOWN :[

"What's my name?" The SASS! I love Adaine so much

Mary-Anne is my favorite character forever and ever. "Jace, I don't feel well" GIRL ME TOO!

"I counterspell his counterspell" WIZARD BATTLESSSSSS!!!! AND SHE CRITTED THE SAVE FOR FLESH TO STONE??? HELL YEAH!

"STUPID IDIOT! HAVE WE EVER HAD A CONVERSATION?" THEY ARE BEATING HIS ASS!

THE RAGE TOKEN MECHANIC WAS FOR THE FINAL BATTLE??? HOLY SHIT THEY LUCKED OUT!

"No one wants to engage with the temptation of my sort of philosophy- You're juicing and we can all see it" DEVASTATING. Porter keeps taking hits that would kill me instantly

There's only ten minutes left in the episode right now so I have to ask- how did they cut this? What cliffhanger am I going to be left on? Should i be fearful? I'm gonna be fearful.

Riz's mindgames are so fucking brilliant. This man is just as much as a Mastermind as KLCK, he just has better motivations. (They're real

The music kicked up? What the fuck is this music? Hm? Hm? Is this a good sign or a bad sign? Whatever it is, I'm fucking with it.

FIG SURVIVING BY THE SKIN OF HER FUCKING TEETH! SHE IS THE CHOSEN ONE BITCHES!!!!!!

"YOU DON'T KNOW HER LIKE I DO!" FUCK YEAH!

That moment with Ankarna was seriously sweet. They are the best friends forever to me.

NOOO MARY-ANN'S STRAWBERRY D: BRENNAN THAT WAS THE CRUELEST THING YOU COULD HAVE DONE.

BUDDY LOST CONCENTRATION!!!!!! HELL YEAH!!

Fig is THE plan-slayer. The bit-defeater! THE SCHEME-FOILER!

RUBEN FUCKING DIED! FIG FUCKING MURDERED THE SHIT OUT OF HIM? HOLY SHIT???? SHE SENT HIS ASS TO THE BLACK PIT!

THE OUTFITS IN THE PREVIEW ARE BRILLIANT AND I LOVE THEM!!!

ARTHUR SHOWING UP AT THE LAST SECOND IS BRILLIANT!

I'm SO EXCITED FOR THE LAST EPISODE!!! :D

[lovevalley45]

i have a spicy take which. prob not as spicy when i've said smth kinda similiar before. but i truly never understood where gerard as a dad figure came from especially when literal mother timothy goose is also right there

[brionbroadway]

He calls Red kid. 

Shouldn’t have put the kid on team extraction. We need to figure out what’s going on with this kid. If she’s hurt, Gerard, the biggest coward Pinocchio’s ever known, fucking Gerard, challenges the perpetrator to a duel.

Pinocchio’s not sure why he’s jealous, nor is he sure that’s the emotion. He knows a book won’t win you a fight. The rules of a sword don’t matter when the game’s played with magic. 

Red’s no kid. She’s a monster, and Pinocchio thinks that with no judgement. No, just jealousy--though the emotion is still murky. She said she chose her path, but Pinocchio doesn’t buy it. Monsters make the path. Monsters make the rules. Monsters can be better than mothers, if the monster’s like Red and the mother is like his own. 

When Pinocchio would smart-talk his dad, his dad would say wisdom’s a burden no child should have to bear. He thought it was his dad smart-talking him back, but he can’t ask for clarity now. All he has of his dad is the blood on his nose.

That same wisdom is what clarifies his emotion. He is not jealous of Red: they are allies in fates they did not choose, even if hers is preferable.

He is jealous of Gerard, who had the option to run and hide. Who believes that horror is temporal and not permanent. Who can call someone who’s fought battles he’s only read about kid, without a single trace of irony. 

Pinocchio has lied. He’s been rude. He didn’t really have a choice. 

He is jealous that Gerard, the kid’s, only punishment was to turn into a frog. 

[gerrydelano]

Btw, i wanted to ask: what makes you hc Gerry as transfem? I'm more of a nb/transmasc gerry leaning person but i love reading about different interpretations of characters and you are obviously very passionate About it (feel free to ignore if its an uncomfortable question, there's no judgement behind it-im just curious.)

hello hello! no worries, i didn't perceive any judgment here, this is all in good fun! my gerry is on the nonbinary side of transfem anyway (which to me is an important thing to portray in general) but it is special to me both for logical reasons and just because it just feels so healing to me. i wrote a big meta about it here a really long time ago, and answered a more recent ask here, so i'll mostly just link those to avoid being too repetitive.

however, to me (just me personally!) the logic comes in as like... mary calls him gerard. she doesn't exactly strike me as a supportive ally parent who would gender her trans son correctly. eric also refers to gerry as his son, and he died when gerry was like 2, which is a little early for a kid to know they're trans. thirdly, he has a canon preference for a nickname that Isn't the name his mother calls him, which to me can signify dysphoria, and that chosen name happens to be a little more androgynous! plenty of women use the same nickname.

i don't believe canon gerry would have really had much of a chance to explore this side of him, as i also just believe he's a late bloomer, so to me it usually comes out easier in AUs where he's able to live for once. live free of his oppressive mother and her expectations of A Son And Heir, live free of the violence of his childhood and the things she made him do, live as a softer person. i think he would benefit from letting himself be softer, i think he would feel healthier and stronger and more himself if he gained some distance from The Son And Heir archetype forced on him from Pretty Much Birth. there are things to be said about what's expected of "sons" and how awfully people are often treated to try and mold them into the right kind of son, and that's something that gerry's story strikes close to for me.

all of that, and i also just find tenderness in this HC that fills my heart with love! i have gotten to write some really beautiful moments of exploration and intimacy and solidarity through this portrayal of him and it's just been so warm. so many people, especially on this site and especially fucking lately, have been expressing ideas that suggesting that someone might be transfem is inappropriate compared to suggesting that someone might be transmasc, that being transfem is a bad thing or a curse or an insult, and ngl it's all such bullshit.

we need kinder and more loving portrayals of transfeminine people of all walks just in general. and sometimes you just get the egg vibes off of somebody and it's okay. so, yes! i simply think estrogen could have saved her.