Disclaimer: I don't own the Wolftership (I know that was lame but I'm not sorry.)

"Not. Gonna. Happen." Stiles ground out. Neha had the gall to actually look a little affronted.

"Stuart Stilinski, you are doing the world a disservice by not allowing them to see you in a skirt! And besides," She made her voice a mock whisper now "I'm sure Graham would love it!" for emphasis she wiggled her eyebrows, and Stiles was sure his face had likely turned scarlet.

"I-I-I don't know what you're talking about!" He snapped, taking a step back. She however took a step forward, putting a hand of mock comfort on his shoulder, patting softly.

"Oh honey, I'm a fangirl, if you were in a movie I would have already been writing dirty, smutty fanfiction about you." It was official, Stiles was dead. Embarrassment had officially 100% killed him. He was just hoping now that the burial would happen soon.

Saving him from anymore humiliation, Billy cleared his throat and asked: "So, what's Yo-Yo going to be?" And so i became an unspoken fact that Stiles would be red. The question is, had Stiles ever not been red?

_Line Break muahaha_

Stiles fiddled with the straps of his top as he looked at himself mortifyingly in the mirror. A black short skirt started at the waist, flowing down to mid thigh. A white button up crop top fell just above where the skirt started. Long white stockings of a similar silky white fabric as the top came to right above his knees, and were held up by red lacy garters that went to mid thigh. High heeled Mary Janes were uncomfortably placed upon his feet, (How did they even get any his size?) and a long red cloak, a bright rich satin had interesting lace designs swirling down it until it hit the hem at the bottom of his knees. They kept him without added hair or makeup, maintaing a "natural beauty" (Neha's words.) sort of look.

Needless to say, Stiles was not excited to do this. But they were coming up next, and no other options of escape presented itself, and as they called his group in he stepped up from behind the curtains without looking to the crowd. The Indian girl was worked so masterfully with makeup they added a decent 35 years to her, fake grey hair back in a wispy bun and slash marks through her victorian white blood stained night gown. Looming over her was Billy, looking almost too wolflike for his comfort, and he ignored the churning of his stomach. And as if he were just busting into the scene, there stood Nick in full lumberjack ensemble, axe in hand and looking ready to charge. At the end of the stage as if he were far away Yo-Yo stood, dressed in a mature but plain adult man's outfit, button up and slacks. He was aged as well, but not nearly as greatly. He was intended to be Red's father. And in the middle of everyone was him, standing in fake horror. (As he knew the expression of fear, of horror, all far too well.)

They only stood in their poses for a minute, but it felt like an eternity as the judges assessed from within the crowd, the telltale whispers from the entire crowd he knew belonged to his name. So much for hoping to be ignored by people. Finally their minute was up and they exited stage. However as his eyes flickered to the crowd before the curtains shut, all he could see were the dark eyes aflame.

Getting back to his dressing room, he felt relief. It was completely over. Putting another foot into the roomed, he smiled in expectance of reaching. the safety of his own garments. However, that relief was stopped dead in its tracks when he found that his clothes were gone.

Fuck.

Author's Note: hehehe :3 This is going to be really fun for me. Oh, and I'd love to thank Boobear for inspiring me to do this event :3

Have a rockin' day

-Sinner

Question Of The Day: Any side pairing you guys want?