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It’s Biles. Call me Biles, or I swear to God I'II kill you.

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Since the site’s in the shitter and I waste too much time on it anyway

I’m gonna put my posts up on ao3. My username is JennaUtena on their and ff dot net. It’s been nice knowing y’all and lurking for years✌🏽

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Not the purpose of this blog but if you don’t vote, people like me wouldn’t be around to blog things like this...or anything for that matter

Just a reminder to get out there and vote! Nothing is guaranteed unless you fight for it!

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16a) Magic Car

“Stiles, you are not Ms. Frizzle,” Derek deadpanned as he watched his…the human pace through their house. The Pack’s house that is…not Stiles’ and Derek’s. The Beta shook his head as Stiles snapped his head at him mid step.

“Did you just—?” But instead of commenting further since Stile was still getting used to Derek participating in his tomfoolery, he just went on, acting offended. “I can be Ms. Frizzle if I put my mind to it—or Mr. Frizzle at the least! I just need to grow out and dye my hair; my wardrobe’s eclectic enough; and we have Jackson for the lizard. The Pack’s the class! It’s perfect!”

And it was only the long times they had spent training that allowed Stiles to dodge the vase that the wolf-kanima mix launched at him.

“Not on your fucking life, Stilinski!” Jackson roared.

Stiles had the unfortunate ability to not keep his mouth shut even under duress and just kept going.

“Well, I agree you’re too big to ride on my shoulder, so we’ll just have to strap you to the roof or something,” he commented while deftly dodging the tail swiping at him and kept talking. “The dynamic of the group doesn’t really matter though. No. Not really. It’s the mode of transportation.”

Peter balefully glared at Stiles because, as much as he could usually deal with the teen’s exuberance, today was something else.

“Please, someone shut him up before I do.” The threat was met with the unfurling of a few claws, but Stiles was too deep into his thoughts to realize.

“Just let him go til he tires out,” Malia grumbled, “he’s been going on this idea all day…and honestly I agree on how weird it is.”

“We don’t even know what point he’s trying to get to because he just keeps talking!” Liam cries, spirit broken by Stiles’ incessant speech.

“Aww, puppy. Don’t cry,” Stiles soothes as he launches to hug and pet the youngest Beta. In response, Liam screamed and ran away, much to the amusement of Mason who moved out of the way as soon as Stiles set his eyes on them.

Scott laughed on the side, knowing Stiles’ point but refusing to cooperate. He had to deal with the other’s antics for years. Now the rest of them had to know his pain. The True Alpha would have let it continue too if it weren’t for the pointed look Kira gave him.

Stiles was right. He was so whipped. But he was okay with that.

“Just,” Stiles placated, hands up in surrender after about stopped him from chasing Liam. “Just hear me out. Deaton’s already confirmed that I can do magic—or use magic…or have magic…or am magic…we haven’t really gotten to the mechanics of that. But isn’t just ridiculous the amount of stuff and people we can put into Roscoe?! Like anytime there’s an emergency in the woods. Or when we take a trip. Or when we had to go to Mexico. Or that one time we went to Alaska and the Abominable Snowpeople adopted me. Or when we went to Bolivia. Or when we went through the portal to Turkey. Or when we—”

Scott put his hand over Stiles’ mouth in a flash, shrugging at the indignant and betrayed look he received. “I think they get the point, dude.”

Stiles’ inability to make a clear response made his face twist up more. But of course, he wasn’t going to be kept silent for long.

Scott screamed in disgust as Stiles smiled triumphantly.

“Ugh, Stiles, no licking!”

Derailed by the boys’ antics, and Scott chasing Stiles with the other able to keep away, the rest of the Pack just laughed and went back to their night.

But the Hales—i.e. Derek and especially Peter—couldn’t help but think there was more to what Stiles was saying. More than what any of them could possibly understand.

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What to do if you suddenly find yourself homeless

FOOD

Find your nearest food bank or mission, for food

grocery stores with free samples, bakeries + stores with day-old bread

different fast food outlets have cheaper food and will generally let you hang out for a while.

some dollar stores carry food like cans of beans or fruit

SHELTER

Sleeping at beaches during the day is a good way to avoid suspicion and harassment

sleep with your bag strapped to you, so someone can’t steal it

Some churches offer short term residence

Find your nearest homeless shelter

Look for places that are open to the public

A large dumpster near a wall can often be moved so that flipping up the lids creates an angled shelter to stay dry

HYGIENE

A membership to the YMCA is usually only 10$, which has a shower, and sometimes laundry machines and lockers.

Public libraries have bathrooms you can use

Dollar stores carry low-end soaps and deodorant etc.

Wet wipes are all purpose and a life saver

Local beaches, go for a quick swim

Some truck stops have showers you can pay for

Staying clean is the best way to prevent disease, and potentially get a job to get back on your feet

Pack 7 pairs of socks/undies, 2 outfits, and one hooded rain jacket

OTHER

first aid kit

 sunscreen

 a travel alarm clock or watch

 mylar emergency blanket

 a backpack is a must

 downgrade your cellphone to a pay as you go with top-up cards

 sleeping bag

 travel kit of toothbrush, hair brush/comb, mirror

 swiss army knife

 can opener

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Reblog if you are a fic writer who welcomes moodboards, playlists, remixes, art and any other type of gift based on your stories.

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Accidental Magic: Constellations

#10b on fic list

The thing smelled like him, sounded like him, and almost looked exactly like him…almost. And that was enough for Derek to attack.

The Alpha lunged at the imposter, upending the new couch Cora and Malia had picked out. He couldn’t bring himself to impale it with his claws. It looked…and the surprised shout sounded…and the feel of him—it!—under him.

A body roughly slammed against Derek’s, making him let go of it, tearing his attention away from the thing and to the screams and yells of the Pack around him.

“What the hell, Derek?” Scott roared, wolfed out, in his face, using his True Alpha aura to shock Derek into mollification.

Even Boyd and Jackson looked significantly disturbed by the sudden rage and unbridled hate Derek smelled of.

“Relax, buddy,” the thing coughed out. “Just warn me when you’re about to get kinky, big guy. And put the pups to bed first. I’m not much of an exhibitionist.”

Peter moved to aid it back up. The black marks on his hands served proof that it was in pain. Good.

Derek snapped, “Shut up! Don’t call me that!”

The familiar but wrong face whipped to him, disgruntled confusion morphing to worry. It was worse than when the Nogistune was here.

Derek flashed his eyes at the creature again and growled out, “Where is Stiles?”

The worry switched back to confusion as it answered, “Right here, dude…are you feeling okay?”

“No!” Derek made to attack again but was held down by Scott still as Malia and Isaac came to help.

The former sniffed around her cousin, remarking, “It’s not wolfsbane or anything I can smell.”

“And he hasn’t eaten anything we haven’t or been around anyone strange…well stranger than normal,” Isaac summarized.

But Derek was too incensed at both the thing that looked like Stiles and its closeness to Peter.

“Get away from that thing!” Derek yelled as he still struggled against Scott.

Kira twitched and said, “I know you guys have issues with Peter still but that’s just mean.”

Derek scoffed at the girl and glared at the shifter…or possessing spirit. He didn’t hear a blip in its heartbeat when it answered, and it smelled genuinely afraid and hurt. Its face blanked and then twisted, now angry.

“He was talking about me, Kira,” it bit out as it stood up and Peter stepped behind it. “Now what’s your problem, asshole?”

Scott, with Erica’s help, got Derek to sit down in the chair farthest from the creature and stayed next to him after he was sure that the enraged Hale couldn’t get past him if he attacked again.

“What did you do with Stiles?” The elongated fangs in his mouth did not make it easy for him to talk and neither did his anger.

“I said I’m right here!” It yelled at him with an anger he hadn’t seen on Stiles’ face pointed towards him in a long time.

It hurt.

“No, you’re not!” Derek raged, unable to take it any longer. “You were close, and you got past them. But you are not Stiles! Your face is all wrong!”

Jackson, the quickest to recover, guffawed. “Finally, someone agrees with me about Spazzlinski!”

Lydia cut him a glare that shut him up before he could do any more damage and chastised Derek. She turned to look at Stiles who was warring with his own anger and pain and squinted.

“He’s right. That’s not Stiles…the moles on his profile are off,” she acquiesced, “They’re…changing.”

“Wha—wait—what?” Stiles shrieked, pulling his phone out of his pocket and opening the front-facing camera. He saw his face and looked at his left cheek where he knew his most prominent mole to be and—

“It’s not there. Why is it not there? I didn’t sleep-get-cosmetic-surgery. How could it be there and not there? The hell is wrong with my face? Why are those there and not there? Is the rest of me like this?”

He questioned frantically while the rest of the Pack looked on in wary confusion. Derek calmed a bit, Stiles’ genuine self-focused fear shocking him out of his anger. Peter, still behind Stiles, quickly ripped the boy’s shirt apart so there could see his whole chest. Stiles yelped at the sudden cold and nakedness while they watched the moles and freckles across his body moved.

“Well, isn’t this interesting,” Peter smirked. “I knew you’d be powerful but never to this degree.”

“What the hell are you talking about, Peter?” Scott barked, not alright with Peter attacking Stiles but no longer recognizing the being that looked like Stiles as Stiles.

Stiles glared at the remnants of his new shirt and snarked, “If I were really powerful, then I’d magic that creepy look off your face, old man. There’s no way my Spark could do this.” He gestured wildly to the still moving marks on his chest. Though now that he was calmer, they did move slower.

“Try slowing your heartbeat a bit more, Stiles,” Peter advised, looking as interested and calculating as always. “I think you can understand why.”

Preferring that to being mauled by his so-called friends who looked like they were ready to rip into him if he even blinked funny, Stiles closed his eyes and went through old focusing techniques that helped him with panic attacks. Old memories tinged with sadness arose as he thought about the telescope his mom had bought to share the universe with him. And, as he got his heart to calm, so did the movement of his beauty marks.

When he felt that he did enough, Stiles eased one eye open and looked down. This time they had stopped…just in the wrong place.

“Fucking great,” he grumbled, seeing the star maps on his body.

“I’ve never seen the Andromeda constellation in such close-up detail. You should be proud of yourself,” Peter said as he walked into the kitchen call Deaton.

“Oh good,” Lydia sighed, “I was thinking that we’d have to do something unsavory to get Stiles back again. Those look even better than tattoos, Stiles.” She pulled Jackson down with her and started painting his nails as they were doing before Derek flipped out.”

Malia, trusting Peter and Lydia, moved to Stiles, clapped his shoulder, and then went to upright the sofa. Erica kept staring at Stiles and was about to laugh at the band of the Batman briefs peaking up from his jeans, but Boyd stopped her before she could make the situation worse. Isaac relaxed and shifted to his more human face. Kira walked from her place by Scott to her seat. Scott, still hovering by Derek, made sure the Alpha wasn’t going to attack again but was only met with Derek’s eyes now their odd amalgam of green-grey-blue-gold running up and down his best bud’s naked chest and—

“Oh, gross, dude!” Scott exclaimed. “You can’t like Stiles!”

And of course, that was all they needed to lose their mind again.

“He did call out on how his moles were wrong.” “And we all know how he loves staring at Stilinski’s face.” “Derek really is smelling some type of way now.”

“No! Unacceptable!” Scott fought against the idea while they—with Cora leading them—were more enjoying bothering Scott than Stiles and Derek.

Danger over, Stiles decided to address the Big Bad Wolf. “So…you know where my moles are?”

Derek’s face snapped up as his ears tinged pink. Stiles’ face was red too and another constellation formed near Andromeda.

“Perseus,” Derek whispered, only making both of them redder.

“Great. Cool. Yeah,” Stiles coughed out. “You’re going to have to make up for attacking me. I think I’ll be fine with a date after Peter gets Deaton over here. And then maybe a game of connect the dots?” Stiles moved closer to Derek so that he could take the adorably shy werewolf’s hand in his and squeeze.

When Scott whined louder, Derek only squeezed back.

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This was so amazing! I love the repetition and growth and Derek finally getting what he deserves or at least moving on to!

Ah Love It!!

Black Lies and KitKats

Derek’s mom told him that love is beautiful, with one of those same smiles that everyone got when they talked about Peter’s wife. That sort of past-tense sad reserved for loss that’s worth bringing up again.

Because love is beautiful.

He believes it, that’s the problem. He sees it in her eyes when she plays, mixed up in petty anger and dusky browns. He sees it in the way she leans towards him when they talk, and the way his chest opens up when she’s near by. Derek thinks, This is beautiful.

But, it’s not. Because his mom said—she said love is beautiful—and Paige is vomiting black on to the dirt floor, writhing in pain, babbling out promises and pleas no teenager should ever have to speak. No one should have to ask for help to die, it shouldn’t be this hard. It shouldn’t be this ugly.

He breaks her, and it breaks him.

Love is ugly.

He believes that for months. Long months of time that crawl by with the ever present memory of black, acrid love in the back of his mind. Derek learns to avoid touching people, learns to filter the guilt-induced hallucinations from reality.

He wakes up to inky black in his bed. Not real. Not real. Not real.

The girl touching his arm after the basketball game has black hair—too much like his sisters, yuck—but nothing more. Nothing Paige.

There’s a young boy watching him from the woods. He doesn’t feel real enough for Derek to acknowledge him.

Life goes on like this for a year, and it’s fine. He knows people can survive without love, he’s watched his uncle happily survive for this long.

Until someone sneaks in. No, Kate pushes her way into his life with groping hands, secrets, and little promises that sound more like demands for love and sex and so many good things. She’ll make him feel good, make him strong, make him love her.

Derek doesn’t love her, love is a black mess spewed into the dirt. Love is a dead girl under a tree.

But he takes everything else she offers, because he’s never lived as easily as Peter has, and he’s young. He needs attention, feckless affection with no consequences. Meaningless feel-good. No one will get hurt.

The boy from the woods is back, staring at him across busy police station. Derek’s too fucked up to care if he’s real or not. The next time he looks up, there’s a KitKat on the floor in front of him, and the boy is gone.

Love is a dead girl under a tree. Love is a home turned tomb. Love is a lie told to his last family member.

Laura comforts him in their loss, and Derek loves her too much to tell her the truth. They’ve run away from the blackened wood and burning flesh to a city that smells just as bad. It’s not home.

Their first night there is spent in a one room apartment, no electricity, and one mattress on the floor that they collapse into, both of them sobbing so hard Derek fears his heart will finally rip free of his chest.

It doesn’t, he survives.

Derek’s sister tells him that she needs to go back to Beacon Hills with one of those same smiles that she got when they talked about their family. She tells him she wants to visit Peter, to see how he’s doing. It’s a lie, but Derek lets her go.

Because love is beautiful.

He’s there, again. In the woods. He knows it’s him, even years later. Scents don’t change much, unless you lose everything that makes you you. Which is why his immovable uncle Peter smells like something different, something more dangerous than the man he once knew. The boy, however, is the same.

KitKats and a sad smile from the woods.

Derek makes him leave before he thinks too much about events leading up to those memories.

The problem is, they’re persistent. These damn teenagers are everywhere, stepping into his business, getting bit by the rabid alpha, doing stupid, stupid things. A lot of it, in the name of love. Friendship. Family.

Love is a dead girl under a tree, Derek tells himself.

Love is a tomb turned home.

Love is a lie that killed his sister.

Love is…

He finds himself thinking the words at night, while wounds heal and the dust settles. Peter, Scott, Argents, Alphas. Fight, kill. protect, promises. Screaming and arguing, throwing barbs.

KitKats on the doorstep of his tomb-home.

Stiles remembers. Stiles, somehow, sneaks in. And this time, it’s actual sneaking. He moves into Derek’s life like a thundercloud. A low, warning rumble as it moves across the sky, a crackle here or there to let you know what you’re getting into.

Stiles is a spark in a bleak world.

Love is…

Love is a mistake, ill-informed choices taken out of a dead girl’s hands.

Love is memorial, no, a memory.

Love is the lie his sister used to save his life.

He finds Jen.

She’s a blip in his life, the seconds between one extreme and another. Toxic wasteland meet ice age.

It still hurts, but she’s a blip.

Love never even comes into it.

When he finds Stiles in the dirt, screaming, he knows this is it. He’s invested, he’s given away parts of himself again, he’s believing again.

So when Stiles—skinny, defenseless Stiles—brings a plague of murderous amusement to Beacon Hills, he’s already decided what to do.

And he does everything he can to bring Stiles back from wherever he went. Somewhere in the black, under the roots, is that spark.

It takes some time, but with no hesitation, they drag Stiles, kicking and screaming, back to reality.

And it’s not perfect, that’s not how life works. It’s as messy as black rejection spilling into the dirt. It’s as trembling and fragile as the burnt-out-shell of a home in the woods. It’s as many twists and turns as a well told lie to protect someone you love.

But it’s too late for Derek, and it’s too late for Stiles.

Because Derek will do anything to save that stupid kid frowning at him through the trees. He’ll kill everyone before he hurts that confused boy who leaves KitKats for crying murderers. He’ll die for guy who will die for him, because love is…

Love is Stiles.

And love is beautiful.

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Back From the Dead: First Re-encouters

#12 of fic list

Erica and Boyd could count on one hand how many times they were too confused to question the supernatural and just accepted what was going on.

Well, they could count on one hand of whatever—whoever—was in front of them.

It was speaking but it sounded like rain on glass and wind through the leaves. All they knew was that they did not know where they were or how they got there.

The noise stopped. The being ended its diatribe and curled all but three fingers in, pointing to some light portal, an open field in the distance.

They were confused and scared for their lives…though that phrase didn’t seem right.

They must have taken too long as the person, looking more human now, features shifting as they moved, pushed them towards and into the portal, cooing all the while.

They held on to each other, expecting the worst, until they fell through.

Too much noise. Too much light. Too many smells.

Bombarded by the sudden jump start of their senses and as realization hit them full force, they clung to each other as lifelines.

“I died,” Erica whispered, curling into themselves more.

“Me too,” Boyd agreed, falling into their huddle.

The grass under their feet. The strong bark at their sides. The sun shining down. The birds chirping. Butterflies’ wings flapping. Skin on skin and heat and skin and…

“I’m naked,” Erica laughed and winced at the disuse and volume of her voice.

“Me too,” Boyd remarked, honing his sense to get a grasp on their surroundings.

They stayed together for what seemed like hours. Not that they knew what time was anymore. And neither made to move until they heard something crashing through the bush. A set of voices was getting closer, accompanied by very familiar scents that they never thought they would’ve smelled again.

Breaking through the forest wall came a tan skinned, eyebrow-less shifted man, a teenager with a crooked jaw and red eyes, and a strawberry blonde with somehow immaculate clothing. The five stared at each other until a sixth came through, nearly hyperventilating. The mole speckled young man slapped his hands on his knees, struggling to breathe in an almost overexaggerated manner.

“I…told you…to slow down!” He coughed out. He looked at the two across the way and cheesed. “Hey, guys. Welcome back!”

He seemed to be the only one moving in the moment, though it was mostly because he was still catching his breath.

“Welcome…welcome back?” Eyebrows came back, almost connecting to the man’s hairline. “Stiles, what did you do?”

The other male’s nose scrunched as he breathed in their scents. Satisfied with whatever he found, he bounded to the others and offered the blankets he was carrying to Erica and Boyd. Derek and Stiles continued to argue in the back while everyone got their bearings.

Lydia automatically texted the rest of the Pack their location. She muttered, “I can’t believe he was right. I didn’t feel anything.” A frown threatened to break across her face since she had thought she was getting better at her abilities.

“Hey!” Stiles shouted, offended. “I heard that! Just because the Nemeton doesn’t talk to you doesn’t mean I’m lying or interpreting it wrong all of the time.”

Derek chuckled. “And what about that time you thought the Apocalypse—capital A—was coming with zombies?”

Stiles blushed and retorted. “How was I supposed to know the necromancer never reanimated anything but bunnies.” He stared at nothing as he reminisced. “Gross, disgusting bunnies.”

They all shivered at the memory.

Erica and Boyd were so confused. If not at their being alive, then definitely at the cohesion of the Pack in front of them. And especially at the banter between Stiles and Derek.

“What’s going on?” Boyd asked, mostly to Erica but Scott replied.

“Oh, them?” Scott smirked. “Stiles is just mad that we underestimated him, and Derek wants to keep him safe and is doting on him. It’s a little vomit-inducing and takes a while to get used to but we’re stuck with them.” Though the rant sounded practiced, it was equally, if not more so, fond.

Derek joined Stiles in blushing this time. Even the tips of his ears tinged pink. He grumbled something under his breath about how Scott was one to talk while Stiles nudged him with his elbow. Lydia scoffed fondly, still replying to texts on their group message.

Erica’s face twisted in confusion while Boyd’s blanked. They had no idea how to react to this display of affection. Things were so messed up when they…before they…This new lightness was too foreign for them. And what of their families? What of their funerals? What of the fact that they were dead not even an hour ago?

Scott must have scented their growing anxieties and heard the rising heartbeats as he flashed his eyes and grabbed their hands reassuringly. More sounds came from the forest as faces they had seen before and those they could not recognize came through. Though they both noticed a few missing.

Scott noticed and sighed. “Yeah. A lot has changed since you were here last. But you’re family. You’re Pack. And we have a lot of catching up to do.”

Apparently “cheesing” means different things for different English speaking countries but in America (or at least my part) it just means to grin really wide like someone’s about to take a picture of you.

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Accidental Magic: Flying

He felt her hand run through his hair, muttering that it was almost time to get it cut. He argued against it because he liked it when his hair was longer. It looked more like hers. She sighed in agreement and they went back to half watching the movie. He continued to talk about the scientific inaccuracies and how some of the unscripted parts were kept in the film while she listened and crocheted with her free hand.

It was the lightest he had felt in a long time and that feeling carried over when he woke up. He hadn’t had a good dream in a long time, even since before all the supernatural crap came to light. But his alarm was going off, so he begrudgingly opened his eyes to his pillows and bed below him.

At least three feet below him.

With him still laying horizontally.

In the air.

His eyes widened immeasurably as he tried not to think, to keep his thoughts and mindset exactly the way they were when he woke up. It’s not like the fall would hurt but he was fly—

“Stiles! Turn that alarm off and get up!”

Concentration broken, he fell with an oomph and flailed his way off the bed, landing on the floor and lightly tangling his sheets. The commotion must have been enough to warrant suspicion or at least worry as his dad bounded up the stairs yelling.

“Stiles! Are you al—what’s with the look on your face?”

The shit-eating grin and sparkling eyes only foretold the shenanigans Stiles had planned. So many plans. And so many pranks.

But…before he got to that, he should probably learn some control. Wouldn’t want to go too far, now would he?

Scrambling up to turn off his alarm and get ready for school, Stiles left the befuddled Sheriff in the wake of the natural disaster that was his son. Knowing that he wouldn’t get a clear answer out of his kid until he calmed down, John went back downstairs to fix one of his rarely gotten breakfasts. He had just sat down when Stiles tumbled down the stairs. It was a wonder that the kid didn’t hurt himself more often.

Stiles barely sat down before he scarfed down a waffle and some eggs, stealing some coffee from his dad’s mug. On his way out, struggling to put on a hoodie over his backpack, he yelled over his shoulder, “I’m stopping by Deaton’s after school ‘cause I think I have magic. Don’t worry. And don’t tell Scott! Bye!”

The door slammed, and the house was still once more. John sat there for a second before taking another sip of his coffee.

“At least he’s trying to be prepared.”

I live by the Sheriff’s real name being Noah John Stilinski and only his father calling him Noah.

I’ll try to update the fic list once every week or every other week.

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Teen Wolf Fic(let) Ideas

I’m trying to expand my fanfics and writing with some drabbles! So this is a list of things I’ll eventually write about and post here and eventually on FF or AO3 (if I ever get off the wait list, that is). Feel free to write on them or expand them or use for your own fandoms!

1) Addressing some serious mess that was glazed over (each character gets the help they need and deserve)

2) Catnip for the wolves…and then someone ends up cooking a LOT of wolfnip brownies

3) Duct tape solves everything

4) Everything’s real (my babysitter’s a vampire; my botany/history teacher’s a faerie; my mailman’s a messenger god; my librarian’s a dragon/Wyrm)

5) Ghost moms talking about their sons

6) Lydia knew Stiles had a crush on her but she never knew why

7) NatGeo or some other nature journalist/photographers caught wind of the giant wolves that are in California (and a sequel with the Pack messing with them)

8) Other supernaturals watching them flail

9) Puppy potlucks. So. Many. Puns. Puppy chow. Hot dogs. Wieners. Chew toys and water guns/spray bottles. Jokes about not being able to eat chocolate or grapes, garlic…maybe someone actually CAN’T eat them.

10) Stiles accidental magic…might end with a J. K. Rowling ‘verse crossover (but Gay Dumbledore ™ is life soooo…). a) Flying! b) Constellations

11) Stiles’ mechanic calling at the inanest times

12) Back from the dead (only those with strong potential/relationships with the Pack–Erica & Boyd, Allison & Aiden, Laura)

13)  Magic/herb shop visits. Some are fake. Some are real. Some are very real.

14) Danny’s cousin is a merman/whatever the Hawaiian version of a half man half fish being is or someone who’s a servant of Mo’o or Pele Kamohoalii

15) Reverse AU where it’s weird to be human and Stiles and his parents have to hide it from everyone

16) Magic imbued, drowned, enhanced, changed items (including Roscoe the Magic Jeep in which Stiles will claim to be Ms. Frizzle)

17) All weres can fully shift…and sometimes accidentally turn into puppies

18) Fashion for shifters

19) Deucalion, Peter, Sties talking about pack dynamics while people seriously fight in the background

20) Halloween. Time to get turnt

21) Cheesy horror movie nights for the fluff!!