gerascophobia



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  1. Public Bookmark *

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    Stiles groans and drops his face into his hands. “I’m seventeen, I can kind of use mountain ash and I can explode houses when I’m mad enough. How am I gonna win any kind of magic fight?”

    “We’ll work on it,” Deaton says, as infuriatingly calm as ever. “The important thing to remember, Stiles, is that when everything else is chaos, you’re the port in the storm.”

    Or-

    Laura Hale never died, and Stiles is magic.

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    22 Jun 2017

  2. Rec *

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    His crush on Derek is painfully obvious to everyone, his magic keeps going haywire, the English teacher is definitely evil, and everyone keeps wanting to talk to him about his vagina. Stiles can deal with this, right?

     *Non-con warning for Jennifer and Derek's relationship, and magical manipulation.

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    11 Jun 2017

  3. Public Bookmark *

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    Harry felt Malfoy's breath on his lips as they came together over the bottle, hands firmly planted on the floor as though they each needed their familiar soil, refusing to cross into enemy territory.

     

    Except that Malfoy no longer felt like his enemy.

     

    Malfoy felt inevitable.

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    15 May 2017

  4. Public Bookmark *

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    He pulls open the door without knocking and gets half a step inside the loft before he notices. Derek—lying on his bed—face down—naked.

    -0-

    Stiles gets an eyeful. Things go downhill from there.

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    11 May 2017

  5. Rec *

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    “Okay,” Stiles leans over the book, finger on his chin, while Derek stands there beside him with a frown on his face, “we have the pig’s blood.”

    “They loved that at the butcher shop,” Derek mutters, rubbing his hand along his jaw. “I’ll take three quarts of pig’s blood. Not like this town doesn’t already think I’m some sort of fucking pervert anyway.”

    “We have the hair you picked off his clothes,” Stiles points to the tiny Ziploc bag with a handful of Scott hairs tucked safely inside, and Derek grimaces. “We have the candles. We have the snake. Now we just need an object of the deceased.” He furrows his brow as he leans over the book some more, cocking his head. “It says the object can be anything that was deeply personal to the deceased. Like a piece of sentimental jewelry or a cherished trinket or even a favorite song.”

    Derek snorts. “Yeah. Let’s just listen to fucking Blink-182 and summon the devil.”

    “Right?” Stiles laughs, high and hysterical, manic almost.

    Derek laughs, and Stiles laughs, and it’s not funny. It’s really not funny.

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    15 Apr 2017