Werewolves are stereotyped as ravenous monsters because the transformations burn so many calories that they’re essentially starving afterwords. The more “controlled” werewolves are just the ones who figured this out and loaded up on calories beforehand, whereas the “wild” ones assume it’s part of their wolfish nature to hunt and eat whatever’s nearby.
The transformation back burns calories too, but by that point they’re exhausted from running around in the woods all night, not to mention the physical strain of two transformations. And filthy people showing up at Denny’s in the early morning are assumed to be hungover, so the ravenous beast idea is applied only to the wolf half.
Derek fiddled with the fragile pair of glasses Stiles had unofficially borrowed from Deaton after Allison had borrowed them without permission from her father. They were, according to Allison, a magical artifact that was somehow supposed to help the wearer to see the truth. As this would more than likely reveal werewolves without any guesswork, it was understandable that none of them wanted such an artifact in the hands of hunters, even one that had agreed to a tentative truce.
So now they were here, hiding at a diner Derek normally wouldn’t be caught dead at, looking for answers. Stiles was flipping through pages of a book he had also questionably borrowed, reading about curses and enchantments, so that they could tell if the glasses were even safe to put on at all.
“Wow, it’s like really unhelpful,” Stiles said around his mouthful of curly fries. He laid the book down and spun it so Derek could read, even though he said it aloud anyway. “Enchantments aid the intended user, curses aid the original caster. For example, a truth enchantment would reveal the truth to the user, where as a truth curse would force the user to reveal the truth to the caster.”
“How do you tell the difference, if you didn’t cast the spell?” Derek asked, glancing down at the flowing script.
“Exactly,” Stiles said, like he won an argument, even though for once they were not arguing. “It doesn’t say. I guess someone’s just going to have to, like, put them on.”
“Are you volunteering?” Derek asked, raising a brow.
“To test unknown magic on myself?” Stiles returned, then scoffed. Derek could see him shifting to get ready to make a grab for the glasses, so he moved them enough Stiles had to reconsider. “Oh, come on.”
“And what if they’re cursed?” Derek said, reasonably.
“Then you ask me embarrassing questions until I take them off,” Stiles answered immediately. He had thought about this, clearly. “They can’t be that dangerous if Chris didn’t lock them up.”
Derek relented with a sigh, because he really did not think that the glasses were actually harmful. And they did need to know what exactly they did. Stiles snatched them up greedily, unfolding the delicate arms with a grace he seemed to reserve only for magic, and slipped them onto his face. Derek couldn’t help the stray though zipping through his mind, that Stiles really did look cute in glasses.
“Oh,” Stiles said, small and big, when he looked at Derek. He swallowed, looking like he could see ghosts currently, and Derek figured that meant they’d been right. It would reveal werewolves.
“You’ve seen me wolf out,” Derek told him, holding out a hand to take the glasses.
“You love me,” Stiles said, hushed, and Derek’s blood ran cold as he looked up to meet Stiles’ eyes.
Oh, no. No no no.
“What?” Derek said, mouth dry, mind tailspinning.
“You love me,” Stiles repeated, reverently, not looking away.
“Stiles, I…” Derek shook his head, not sure what he could even say. Of course he did. He had for a while, but he’d never intended to say a word. He’d never intended to ruin what they had going, like he had ruined so many other things.
Stiles snatched the glasses off his nose like they’d burned him, and if they hadn’t been sitting in a booth, he’d have knocked the chair and table over in his scramble to get to his feet. Derek pulled back a little when Stiles came at him with the glasses, but he froze when Stiles did, and then allowed Stiles to place the glasses on him, instead.
With a heavy whump, Stiles sat back down across from him, staring at him with wide, urgent eyes. Derek blinked once, twice, and then he suddenly understood how Stiles knew. He could see it there, plain as day, in the way Stiles looked at him. In the beat of his heart, in the catch of his breath, in the quirk of his smile. Nothing had really changed, Derek couldn’t see anything actually different about Stiles while looking through the glasses, but he knew.
I hate when people stretch “lily was intelligent” to “lily must have been like hermione” like ok I’m sure she had her merit, but hermione was on a whole other level, she literally borrowed a time machine from the government just to take more lessons, comparing anyone to hermione is just extreme
An au story where Scott doesn’t get bitten and the Hale fire never happened but the Hale’s are still werewolves.
Somehow Stiles befriends them all and he figures out that they are werewolves like three days into their friendship. There is a lot of smelling and touching and weird wording and don’t even get him started on the rabbits and deers they cook after a full moon, okay.
But he doesn’t tell them; instead he makes bad pun after bad pun waiting for them to figure out that he knows but they never do.
Until he is invited to the Hale’s for dinner where everyone gathered in the living room and seems serious as hell. Stiles puts on his best poker face.
They sit him down and share some glances between them before Talia seriously proclaims “We are werewolves.”
Stiles keeps his poker face until they fidget and shuffle around, anticipating his reaction before he says in the most deadpan voice he can muster “Yes. I am ‘a were’.”
Dead silence settles over the room for a few seconds before Stiles starts cackling so hard he actually falls of his chair.
It’s supposed to be so awesome that Remus Lupin got to go to Hogwarts rather than being home-schooled, but when you think about it, it’s a pretty messed up situation to drop a kid into.
“Congrats, Remus, you are going to Hogwarts! Don’t forget to keep quiet about who you really are because the other kids won’t like you if they find out the truth, and they kinda have a point, now don’t they?
No, you can’t have your own room, so just come up with an elaborate lie once a month, and hopefully your roommates aren’t that bright and won’t be amongst the 90% of wizards who are prejudiced against werewolves and will probably beat your ass when they figure it out, because if that happens, it’s you that’s getting expelled. Not like it matters, cuz you ain’t getting no job anyway, not in this werewolf-phobic economy.
Also, we were considering changing your name to Kevin, but you know what, let’s stick with that Wolfy McWolf name you’ve got, just to keep things interesting.”
“What’s wrong with Scott.” You asked as you cornered Stiles, who was about to rush after the Alpha, who was storming through the school as if
someone had angered him beyond reason.
“Urm, it’s complicated.” He muttered and Lydia glanced over
“You can tell us Stiles, we might be able to help, he isn’t acting
like himself.” She pointed out and Stiles nodded, taking a deep breath as he
gave Scott one last glance.
“I think he might be in… heat?” Stiles muttered and your
mouth dropped open until Lydia put her finger under your chin to close it.
“So, that’s why he threw Liam away from Malia this morning?” She asked and Stiles nodded. “And also, why he’s been avoiding (Y/N) … makes sense
he’d be most drawn to the member of the pack who needs the most protection.”
“Hey!” You huffed and they both gave you a matching look.
“You are the weakest, you’re human.” Stiles pointed out.
“You’re also close with Scott but you’re close with other
male werewolves, Liam, Brett, Derek and Isaac.” Lydia pointed out and Stiles
took another turn.
“So basically, he’s probably finding it really difficult to
be around you because he’s um… like I said possibly in heat.” Stiles muttered.
“That’s stupid, he’s a guy why would he be in heat.” You
“Reproducing would expand the pack faster, allows the Alpha
to mark a mate without actually turning said mate into a werewolf and it’d give
the alpha a chance to have some time with the betas and… strengthen their pack
bond?” Lydia offered and you made a grossed-out noise.
“Rhetorical question Lydia, anyway I’ll just ask Scott what’s
wrong and prove you both wrong.” You hummed.
“I don’t think you should.” Stiles muttered but you’d
already ducked out of the corridor to where Scott had vanished.
“Scott?” You called and followed the low continues growl to
a bathroom tucked away at the end of the corridor. “Scott, why’re you naked!”
You squeaked and grabbed at his jeans, hoping if you handed them to him he’d
get dressed as you tried not to look.
“I was too hot.” He mumbled roughly and moaned when you put
a hand on his forehead.
“Maybe I should ask if I can give you a lift to the hospital…
you can’t exactly ride your bike.” You mumbled, your eyes widening as he slowly
slid your hand down his neck and across his stomach, letting you pull away before he
could go any lower.
The text came in at 7:17am, and in the mean time, Stiles had made his way through four and a half breakdowns, all of them for different reasons.
Number One: Male werewolves could get pregnant, and tying into that:
Number Two: Derek had never found it relevant to their two year relationship to share this fun fact. That didn’t say much as to his thoughts on their future together, which stung.
Number Three: Stiles was going to be a father at twenty-four.
Number Four: Just the night before, with Derek in Argentina visiting Cora, Stiles ate a dinner of Cheetos, plain microwaved hotdogs wrapped in bread, and four beers before passing out on the couch with the tv remote in his hand. He was not ready to be a father.
Number Five (still ongoing, more or less halfway through): They were going to have to move because no amount of corner guards or stupid little outlet plugs could childproof the loft. The door to the kitchen was literally a jagged hole in a brick wall. Stiles caught his shins on it regularly, they were always a mess of scabs and bruises.
Actually his entire body was a mess of scabs and bruises, because that was his life now, had been since sophomore year: fighting off the forces of supernatural evil.
Too bad he couldn’t childproof his life.
Oh god, they were going to have to move out of Beacon Hills. Away from the pack.
Nothing was stable in Beacon Hills, it had been eight years of panic and anxiety and near deaths and actual deaths. They couldn’t bring a baby into their current lives, Stiles wouldn’t even bring an adult into this hellhole. Who was trained in firearms. With combat experience.
“Go and see (Y/N).” Destiny sighed and shooed the boys out
of her apartment, shutting the door on their heels.
“Whose (Y/N)?” Roman asked curiously.
“Another witch, basically a younger Destiny but kind of,
uses a different kind of magic and we don’t normally ask her she’s a little off.”
Peter muttered the word magic with such sarcasm Roman wondered how his eyes
hadn’t rolled out of his head.
“So… werewolves and witches is that a thing?” Roman asked
Maggie Stiefvater talks 'All the Crooked Saints,' and here's a first look at the cover
Maggie Stiefvater may have concluded the Raven Cyclejust last year, but the author already has a new stand-alone YA novel hitting shelves later this year.
The book, titled All the Crooked Saints, takes place in the 1960s in Bicho Raro, Colorado and follows the lives of three members of the Soria family-each of whom is searching for their own miracle. There’s Beatriz, who appears to lack feelings but wants to study her mind; Daniel, the “Saint” of Bicho Raro, a miracle worker for everyone but himself; and Joaquin (a.k.a. Diablo Diablo), who runs a pirate radio station at night.
Adding to the mystery (and magic) of the book is the book’s intriguing cover-which EW is pleased to reveal exclusively below.
“There are owls in the book because owls are a very scientific creature that gets credited with a lot of magical superstitions,” Stiefvater tells EW. “There are roses in the book because roses are a very magical flower that take a lot of science to truly understand. Put that together and well - as the kids say, that’s it. That’s the book.”
With Stiefvater’s latest novel set to hit stores on Oct. 10, EW caught up with the bestselling author to find out more about what’s in store for readers, her process, and of course, her upcoming Ronan Lynch trilogy.
ENTERTAINMENT WEEKLY: All three of your characters are looking for a miracle. What do miracles, or the idea of miracles mean to them? MAGGIE STIEFVATER: Miracles! Miracles! Miracles! This book is full of them. I was taught by nuns for the first dozen years of my life, and so I was raised with a pantheon of peculiar saints: decapitated saints who carried their own severed head through the streets of cities, saints who exorcised demons from the bottoms of milk pails, saints who flew unexpectedly.
The Soria family are saints as well, and the miracle they perform for pilgrims to Bicho Raro is as strange as most miracles are: They can make the darkness inside you visible. Once the pilgrims see their inner darkness face to face, it’s up to them to perform another miracle on themselves: banishing the darkness for good. It can be a tricky business to vanquish your inner demons, even once you know what they are, but the Sorias are forbidden to help with this part. They’ve all been told that if a Soria interferes with the second miracle, it will bring out their own darkness, and a saint’s darkness, so the story goes, is a most potent and dangerous thing.
The three cousins in the story all have their own relationship with the family miracles: Daniel, the current acting Saint of Bicho Raro, wants to help the pilgrims overcome their darkness through holiness and empathy. Beatriz, on the other hand, would prefer if the Sorias approached the miracle from a more logical and scientific place. And Joaquin is less interested in miracles and more interested in broadcasting rock & roll from a pirate radio station in the back of a battered box truck.
How did you come up with the name “Bicho Raro”? I’d just finished writing the rather heavy final installment of the Raven Cycle, and I thought it would be nice to switch things up with something playful and - dare I say it? “Feel good”? Does that sound like a Stiefvater novel to you?
So I tried to be as playful in my language as I could. I figured if my words were frolicking, readers might too. “Bicho raro” (“rare bug”) is just a little way to speak fondly about odd people, like “strange bird” or “odd duck.” It’s less about the Soria family themselves and more about the varied pilgrims who come to Bicho Raro.
What inspired the novel’s setting? Three years ago, I convinced Scholastic that instead of flying to all of my tour events for Sinner, the companion book to the Shiver trilogy, I would instead drive my 1973 Camaro to them. Seven thousand miles, coast to coast, just an American girl in a muscle car, seeing the breadbasket of our fine country while hawking a novel about burned-out werewolves - nothing could go wrong.
Spoiler: Everything went wrong. I spent my time evenly divided between meeting readers and repairing the Camaro by the side of the road.
At one point, the brakes went out (for the second time), and I coasted into an auto repair shop in Del Norte, Colorado. The sun was white, the air was dust, and the mountains were sharp as hell all around. While I waited for the mechanic to take a look at my brake lines, the receptionist told me tall tales and ghost stories about straight-arrow desert roads and demons dancing in the dust and strangers appearing in the night.
I thought to myself: This is where my next novel takes place.
What made you decide to set All the Crooked Saints in the 60s? Is there something in the history of Colorado at that time that speaks to you? Music! Music! Music! When I was growing up in the 80s, my father always had the radio set to the Golden Oldies - I didn’t realize, in fact, that it wasn’t contemporary music. I thought Del Shannon and Patsy Cline and the Byrds were everyone’s current groove. Even after I discovered differently, it didn’t matter; that music had become the sound of my childhood. There’s something about 60s music and the 60s in general that I think pairs perfectly with a novel about the teen experience - 60s America was going through an adolescence in a lot of ways, and it was a time of mystical joy, innocence lost, increasingly uncomfortable self-awareness of the limitations of tradition, and colorful agitation for change, all of it emotional and urgent. If that’s not a description of being a teen, I don’t know what is.
I’ve been dying to write a novel steeped with the music of that time for about five years now, and for this one, it made sense. I had an incredibly grand and self-indulgent time listening to the music Joaquin and Beatriz spin in their covert broadcasts.
Your work has always been infused with aspects of magical realism. What would you say are some of your influences? Magic! Magic! Magic! For this book in particular, Isabel Allende, Gabriel Garca Mrquez, Erick Setiawan, Ali Shaw, and maybe even John Irving - I have read a lot of wonderful magic realism and wry, intimate family stories over the last decade, and Saints is my affectionate nod to them. It was also informed by movies, though - I really wanted to capture the mood of films like Big Fish, Chocolat, and Amlie. That whimsy and magic and nostalgia. These are strange, hard times that we’re living in, and I wanted to write about magic - I always do - but I also felt like I wanted to leave readers with something that made them happy, hopeful, and excited about all the odd miracles that exist in the world and in themselves.
Of course, I have to ask one question about the upcoming Ronan trilogy. Is there anything you could tease about it? Insert, Stiefvater said, an enigmatic smile here.
All the Crooked Saints will be available for purchase on Oct. 10.
Hermione founds a charity organization that provides all UK werewolves with monthly wolfsbane, aids them in their job searches, and helps new or out of luck werewolves get back on their feet. They also help provide safe places to transform, scholarships for students, and basic medical services, amongst other things.
A young werewolf who would’ve been in Ravenclaw had she gone to Hogwarts runs the Lupin Foundation. Ron and Harry help fundraise, but it turns out they don’t really need to do much; Remus Lupin touched many more lives than he ever realized, and donations are the least of their worries.
I'm curious if the University ever gets visitors, you know the kind, all fire and brimstone in their words, going on about pagans, witches and devil-worshippers. They might show up, make a scene, and then leave when they get horse from shouting, their words ignored by most. Maybe sometime later the University get a few new students, all Law Majors. They are obsessed with writing every deal down. Their shadows dont seem to match their bodies, and their ever-burning cigarettes smell like sulfur
As far as ‘probably literally demons’ goes, you may be looking for Mooncreek U, which Elsewhere students hate on principal in that very specific way where they refuse to even acknowledge them as worthy rivals. This is largely to do with how many years in a row Mooncreek’s lacrosse, football, and track/field teams have absolutely crushed EU’s. The grudge is longstanding, silent, and held with utter conviction and loathing. Eu does still have the upper hand in rowing and and fencing, but debates, rugby, and Model UN events that involve both schools can get… interesting.
(To be honest, despite affecting to be entirely above the whole thing, and despite claiming that their true rival is the entirely mundane college in the next county, EU absolutely has a special trophy awarded solely to EU teams that triumph over Mooncreek, and it’s probably something awfully smug like stylised wolfsbane blossoms)
Fenrir Greyback purposely bit kids with the intent to lycanthropize (though he didn’t mind if they died) and was active during both Voldemort wars. Possibly also between them?
Remus Lupin is our only known canon survivor of a full-moon attack (the fanwiki mentions some kids who died, and Bill was bit under a different sort of moon) and says that the Whomping Willow was planted the year he started at Hogwarts. Later he adds that it was planted for him, Dumbledore’s plan for how a werewolf child could attend Hogwarts.
I think Lupin was Dumbledore’s test case. There were probably other werewolf kids attending Hogwarts after him. Or, if we assume that Lupin protected their privacy while telling Harry & Ron & Hermione about the Marauders’ school days by carefully keeping them out of the story, there could have been other werewolf kids attending Hogwarts at the same time as Lupin, all crammed together in the Shrieking Shack.
The Wolfsbane Potion, though complex and expensive, would eliminate the need to lead the kids off down a tunnel once a month. And with all the juvenile hexes, quidditch injuries, classroom accidents, and plain old head colds the student body gets running around Hogwarts, getting a nasty potion for a week monthly isn’t too hard to pass off as something else. Especially when it keeps you calm, so you’re not scratching yourself bloody every full moon like poor Lupin used to do.
Depending on if Greyback stayed active between the wars, there may or may not have been some in Harry’s year or below for most of the books. But there were probably a couple older students, at least during his first few years, and definitely some during, say, Lockhart’s time at Hogwarts, or Bill Weasley’s, or Tonks’. If Fenrir dropped off the radar when Baby Harry blew up Voldie, the last one might’ve graduated just before Lupin started teaching.
Anyway now that I’ve realized they must’ve been there, I want fic about these werewolf Hogwarts students.