PeachesandCream



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    By twenty-eight, Stiles has resigned himself to a quiet life of working in his magic shop, selling Jackson Whittemore fart-inducing tea, and looking after his goddaughter. It's a good life. But the quiet goes to hell when his sister, Lydia, shows up with a crispy werewolf in her trunk and a bite mark on her shoulder, because hard on her heels comes the hottest person Stiles has ever seen, and he happens to be looking for his uncle.

    You know, the dead guy Stiles helped Lydia bury last night.

    (Or: the Pracitical Magic AU nobody asked for.)

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    24 Aug 2017

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    I have this fantasy.

    And maybe it's Stiles' favorite one. And maybe it's been buzzing under his skin for the longest time. So he makes a post about it. There’s nothing shameful about that. That's what blogs like this are for. He expects most of the responses he gets - the supporters, the enthusiasts, the creeps.

    But the simple message: Would you trust me to give you that?

    After that, all bets are off.

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    21 Aug 2017

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    Stiles has always known that he isn't quite human - the plant life that tends to sprout around him whenever he gets upset or excited gives it away. He's never really fit in among the regular people in Beacon Hills and is determined to wait it out, go to college, and find somewhere to belong. He's forced to abandon those plans, however, after he desperately agrees to enter into an arranged marriage to save his father's life.

    An arranged marriage with an angry, sometimes furry dude with trust issues. It's all very Beauty and the Beast, without the singing candlesticks.

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    16 Aug 2017

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    Anxiety (/aNGˈzī-itē/):
    A feeling of worry, nervousness, or unease, typically about an imminent event or something with an uncertain outcome.
    ~~
    "The set was busy; people bustled about with their various jobs. No one seemed to notice, or maybe they just didn’t care, as the gangly boy looked about nervously. He was all skin and bones, a track of moles across his light skin. He carried a bag across his shoulders, a coffee cup in his left hand and a curious look on his face. There was nothing remarkable looking about him at all, and perhaps, that was the most remarkable thing."

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    04 Aug 2017

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    Maybe it's the little girl whose disappearance turned into a murder, and whose murder turned into a cold case, and who has now apparently decided to move in with him. Maybe it's the unacceptable hole left in his life when his dumb best friend and partner in (the prevention of) crime decided to go and get himself killed. Maybe it's his brother, whose high-profile career and fantastic girlfriend and first-child-on-the-way are steadily leaving Dean in the dust. Pick one. Pick all of them. The why doesn't matter so much as the what, and the what is this: Dean is pretty sure he's going completely, certifiably insane. Sure, he hasn't started wearing all his clothes inside out, and he still showers on a regular basis (anyways, that's not crazy, just a little eccentric); but there's no getting around the fact that he just threw away his life, his career, and his reputation by dragging out his mom's old necromancy book and summoning a Class A Forbidden Entity to his attic. A cranky one, too. With horrendous bed-head.

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    01 Aug 2017