Steter Research Aesthetic

 

Steter Creator Appreciation Post

 Hey guys! In honor of ladypigswagon birthday a couple of months ago I’d like to dedicate this post to her and her freaking stellar fantasy aus!!! A lot of these are oneshots, but I don’t think I’m alone when I say I’d give Lady my freaking kidney for more! I have yet to come across a better fantasy writer! The worlds this girl spins are so enchanting! I was literally up until six in the morning making sure I read all the fanatsy/mythology ones just to satisfy my itch! Thank you so much for sharing these fantastic stories with us and I hope you have a fantastic birthday! 

Can’t Wipe That Blood Right Off Your Hands

Summary: “Do you want the bite?” Peter asks, voice dripping like honey but tinged with poison. Stiles would laugh but considering the situation it would be inappropriate. It’s a situation Stiles has faced before infinite times. He’s chased Peter across infinite lifetimes; he’s seen Peter in infinite forms. Werewolf is a first though. And it’s not even Peter at his most dangerous.

Sweet Like Cherry Wine

Summary:Stiles growls softly. He can’t seem to get the beak right, it’s too narrow, disproportionate with the rest of the head. He sighs, charcoal smudged fingers leaving grey marks on his cheeks as he drags a hand over his face. The crow he’s studying hops closer, squawking indignantly when it sees Stiles drawing.“I’m trying,” Stiles mutters. The crow squawks again, hopping back along the branch. The setting sun casts a warm orange glow through the gaps in the treetops. His mother will probably come collect him for dinner soon; he needs to get this right before the light fades.

Oh Undine, SIng Your Love To Me

Summary: Stiles belongs to the water. He lives in the cool embrace, amongst the algae and rocks. He has lived here all his life, it has been his sanctuary and his home. This pool deep in a forest, beneath a powerful if small waterfall. Stiles has never ventured beyond the shores of his pond, knows that the forest and what lies beyond holds no interest for him. It’s not a lack of curiosity, it’s a knowing within the marrow of his bones that he is not ready for that potential world.

Boy Who Cried Wolf

Summary: Peter is hungry. It’s a raw ache, the kind that drives Peter to hunt almost desperately. His paws pound against the earth, kicking up black dirt and fallen leaves as he runs. It’s early afternoon, sunlight streaming through the gaps in the canopy, dappling the ground. Peter can hear a herd of deer a few miles west, but deer are tricky. There are too many variables, too many antlers and hooves. He could probably pick off a few with a pack.

I Walked With You Once Upon A Dream

Summary:  Legend says that in the forest there’s a tower tall as the sky, made of stone ancient as the mountains. Its location is unknown, a gem hidden amongst the trees that only the brave or foolish seek. The forest is dangerous, full of magic, and not all of it good. At the top of the tower, they say there’s a boy with eyes of amber and skin so pale the Moon is jealous of its glow. There are many stories of of how he came to be there, but one thread binds every tale: the boy is as powerful as he is beautiful, and the one who can find him and wake him shall have both. Many have tried, and all those who have returned have failed.

Out of the East, Never See The Sun Rise

Summary: In the beginning, there are three absolutes.One. Stiles is a god, forged of starlight and collapsing galaxies and he is eternal.Two. Peter is human, fragile bone and viscous blood and he is temporary.Three. Stiles and Peter are in love; love that claws its way inside one’s heart like fish hooks; all encompassing love that is beautiful but dangerous.Stiles is a god. Peter is human. They love each other.Three absolutes.

And two very honorable mentions because Sonnet 190 honestly feels like a fairy tale and I am in love with Were!Stiles that changes into a Deer! And because Your Boldness Stands Alone Among the Wreck is seriously stunning and I need approximately 600 more chapters because I’m obsessed!!

Sonnet 190

Summary: Peter pushes the textbook away from him, rubbing his eyes. Sixteenth century grammar is starting to grate on him, after the eleventh sonnet he’s beginning to loathe the form and everything it stands for. It would be masochism to continue reading.

Peter stands up, reaching up high to stretch his back. He winces when he hears his shoulders pop. He’s been in the same position for too long, he needs to do some exercise, get out of his room. It’s only mid afternoon, he doubts they’ll be any objection from his parents if he goes for a short run, especially if he promises to stay human the entire time.

Your Boldness Stands Alone Among the Wreck

Summary:“You know,” Isaac says, whilst loading the mutilated body onto the ME’s gurney, “I’m starting to think Hale is just doing this to ask you out now.”Stiles glowers at Isaac, who to his credit doesn’t cower away from Stiles’ hardened gaze. He just zips up the body bag and wheels it out of the room, his last statement hanging over Stiles head like a hangman’s noose. Stiles tries to mentally shake off the feeling but it’s difficult. Peter Hale’s last three murders have been gruesome odes to Stiles and this one is no different. The boy’s eyes, a pale imitation of Stiles own amber ones, had been removed and were residing on the kitchen counter. Hale had left an incredibly detailed sonnet about them in what Stiles suspects is the victims’ blood.

Curled Up

 Thank you so much to the mods for making this banner and running steterweek !!!!

Day one: Alpha Peter or AND Creature Stiles

 

 

“Uncle! I’m home!” Cora sang as she loudly barged into the once quiet house.

“Ah my favorite niece has returned from prison.” Peter said with faux cheer making Laura elbow him hard in the gut.

“I don’t know why you expected for that to go over well.” Derek chuckled from the dining room table.

“I am your alpha and this is how you treat me? I never!” Peter crooned, a hand placed dramatically over his heart.

Saturday nights with nieces and nephew around him and a book in his hand was not the way he had envisioned spending his adult life, but Peter wouldn’t trade his boring life for anything. His parents had died when he was twenty-three leaving him an alpha, and his sister a grieving mess. Talia had handled her grief by hitting the road; her husband had left to go find her, yet neither had returned. Laura had been six at the time and the only one that still has memories of Talia and Joseph. Every year the kids got postcards and presents for their birthdays and Christmas, but each year the gifts only seemed to highlight the emotional and physical distance between them and their parents. Peter considered himself a great surrogate father, but those first few years had been incredibly hard. Laura had blamed him for Talia and Joseph’s absence; Derek asked every morning and every evening when his parents were coming home, and Cora had been just a baby at the time. Peter had only thought vaguely about having his own children when he suddenly had three to take care of all on his own.

Looking back now, past all the struggles and hardships, Peter was almost glad Talia and Joseph had left him with the precious gift of their children. These kids had changed him into a much kinder man, one that lived a quiet happy life, and Peter was forever in their debt for the joy they gave him.

“Oh cool a snake!” came Cora’s excited voice from the patio, alerting Peter that he had approximately two seconds before Derek and Laura were going to freak out.

Peter clapped his hands to his ears and shot off the couch in time to miss Derek’s full bodied tackle and Laura’s ear splitting scream as she too launched herself in the direction of where Peter had been sitting.

“Now children! Calm down!” Peter shouted over the yelps of the eldest Hale children as he sent soothing thoughts down their pack bonds.

“Oh shit. Uncle come here! I think it’s hurt!” Cora’s voice was frantic, yet wet like she was already about to cry.

His sweet, kind hearted bad ass niece couldn’t stand when animals were hurt and it made his heart warm and break everytime she cried over an innocent creature. He left the quietly panicking young adults and made his way out to his brave Cora-baby and the wounded snake.

He froze as his eyes adjusted to the light and he saw that the snake was curled in Cora’s lap and blood was covering her legs where the poor thing was laying.

“I’ll call Deaton. Can you tell what type of snake it is?” Peter said calmly.

“Uncle, I think he’s a shifter.” Cora breathed.

“What do you mean he’s a shifter?” Peter asked as her stepped closer to sniff the air around his niece and the snake.

“He isn’t acting like a normal snake. He let me pick him up and look at his wounds, he came out of the woods and headed directly for me. He hasn’t hissed at me once. And the way he’s looking at you makes me think he knows you’re an alpha.” Cora’s words were calm and her body didn’t move at all just in case she was wrong and really did have a wounded animal in her lap.

Peter yelled for Laura to call Deaton before crouching down to look the snake in the eye, “Can you flash your eyes at me, sweet thing?”

Peter had never met a weresnake before and so he expected either beta orange or the more yellow-orange of the only other shifter he’d met who was a coyote, instead he was greeted with a gold like burnt honey. He gasped in the face of that bright beauty before he collected himself and slowly reached a hand out to touch the snake’s small body. The wounded creature did not move away or try to strike out, but instead slowly, painfully, lifted its head to meet his hand. Such a beautiful, strong little thing. Peter felt himself drawn to the strength and intelligence he saw in the snake’s gaze.

“It’s called hypermelanism.” Cora’s voice jarred Peter from the almost trance like state he’d been.

He made a questioning sound as he finally gently placed his hand on the beautiful scales and started drawing out the poor thing’s pain.

“His scales. I have been searching the internet while you two were communicating or whatever, and I’m pretty sure he’s a chocolate morph California Kingsnake with hypermelanism. The chocolate scales with only a splash of copper on his belly that gives him that metallic look is very distinct so it didn’t take long to figure it out.” Cora explained.

Peter hummed an agreeing sound, too caught up in the tidal waves of pain he was draining to speak.

You can read the rest over on Ao3

Regrowth

 Thanks again to our wonderful mods at steterweek  for putting all of this together! 

Day two: Mating Bite or AND Magical Stiles

“What’s wrong little guy?” Stiles cooed at the wilting rose bush.

“It’s been on the edge of death for weeks. Please tell me you can save it!” Mrs. Jones pleaded behind him.

“I can help you, but it’s going to have to wait for the waning gibbous moon in two days.” Before Stiles could continue his explanation Mrs. Jones threw herself into his chest.

“Mrs.Jones, I’m happy to be of assistance, but we need to figure out why someone has been wanting your roses dead so that I don’t have to cleanse them every month.” Stiles laughed pleasantly as he gently removed the elderly lady from his body and said, “Not that I wouldn’t like to see you that often.”

He sent her a wink for extra measure.

Mrs.Jones giggled, “Oh you little minx! You’re too sweet to this old lady.”, her smile dropped as she thought for a moment, “I bet it’s that darn Peggy Clifton down the street! My rose bush beat hers for Most Vibrant Bloom and she’s been down right hateful since!”

“I think you should go over and see if a nice homemade pie might soothe her ire. Compliment her hydrangeas or something. Make her regret being so rude to such a nice young lady,” another wink, “and maybe she’ll stop killing your roses.” Stiles knew he was flirting with this woman, but old ladies always had the prettiest flora and if he could get in her good graces long term he might be able to spend time in her lovely garden surrounded by her happy plants.

“Yes my sweet I think that’s exactly what I’ll do! Like my nana always said ‘Kill them with kindness and if that don’t work a good stabbing will!’ Hopefully I won’t need to get out ol’ Richard.” Mrs.Jones let out a pretty laugh when she saw Stiles’ face.

“Nana named that knife after her first husband, you know they never did figure out where he ran off to.” Mrs.Jones sent him a wink of her own before linking elbows with Stiles and bringing him inside.

Three days later, under the gibbous moon Stiles said a quick incantation to bless the small cloth bag he’d put: clove, wormwood, holly, motherwort, lavender, and vervain in for purification, healing, and protection. Unless Mrs.Clifton decided to get really nasty Mrs.Jones’ roses were going to be perfectly healthy.

Mrs.Jones had sent him off with a pan of brownies and a teary hug goodbye. He really did adore the sweet older ladies in Beacon Hills. They always had such happy plants, and were always willing to have a chat.

The light of the large gibbous moon lit his way through the preserve, a path he’d taken so often he could walk it backwards and with his eyes closed.

Tonight something was different Something was calling him.

Stiles pulled his hoodie tighter around himself. The hair on the back of his neck started to stand as he went deeper into the relative darkness of the forest. The tugging sensation was getting stronger the further he went, but this was his quickest way home and Stiles wasn’t going to show weakness by turning around. The air around him danced quickly across his chilled skin leaving the impression of little feet racing down his spine. He tried to block out the smell of wet decay as he moved quickly down the path. The tugging sensation was strongest as he approached the trail to the old root cellar his mom used to go to. His steps sounded hurried and panicked even to his own ears as he raced out of the forest and into the orange glow of the streetlights.

You can read the rest on Ao3