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Awash in Your Peace
Dec. 6th, 2018 12:32 pm Summary: (This is for the 14k steter reverse bang and RubyRedHoodling made beautiful artwork that inspired this!)
Chapters: 1/1 Completed on Ao3 Words: 9507
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The rest can be found on Archive of Our Own
Stiles leans against the shaking machine and stares blankly at the book in his hands. He doesn’t remember the last time he had a real meal. He pushes his glasses back up his nose and tries to use the sounds of an empty laundromat to motivate him to read more. He’d managed to reanimate a corpse but the spell had worn off too quickly to test the Kerastes venom properly. He had to get this right soon, he was bound to get caught sneaking around the local graveyards, until he had his research approved he would be in danger of being caught and charged with a felony.
“Maybe if I add more of-”Stiles stopped mumbling out loud when he heard the door open and someone step into the once empty room.
“Oh don’t stop on my account darling.” Came a rumbling, cocky voice from above him.
“Please don’t be who I think it is” Stiles whispered, clenching his eyes closed tight in denial.
Chapters: 1/1 Completed on Ao3 Words: 9507
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The Nogitsune had almost ruined everything. Junior year was supposed to be the calm before the storm and yet it had been a freaking hurricane. Senior year had passed in a blur of stale fear and self-loathing. Stiles had killed so many people, had almost killed Allison. It took weeks and weeks of horrible, nauseating work to return to his normal physical health. He had decided to keep the momentum rolling and started strength training regularly, which benefited him immensely as more fairytale monsters decided to try their luck against a True Alpha.
Fixing his body was not the only hurdle to leap, unfortunately. Stiles had a deep mistrust of mental healthcare professionals and couldn’t stomach being in the fake cheery rooms they use as offices. His father had asked him to try home visits, but he just felt like someone was invading his space and couldn’t focus on anything other than the wrongness that washed over him every time the doctor moved. Stiles had to accept that therapy was out of reach at that moment, though he did try again once he was safely across the country. It was a successful attempt and he loves his therapist.
Originally Stiles had thought Quantico would be his destination, and yet after the actual hell he’d gone through he didn’t want to be a field agent anymore. He had PTSD and explosions and danger were no longer appealing after he had watched himself cause them. Stiles had known his entire life he would work in the criminal justice system, but now he didn’t want to be the guy running head first into the battle. He couldn’t be that guy even if he wanted. He froze up when things exploded, he sometimes became convinced that there was a trap up ahead even though he rationally knew there couldn’t be, worst of all was the paranoia though. Stiles eventually gave each member of his pack a code phrase so that he knew they were them and that he was himself. He’d played it off as if they should’ve done it since the beginning in case witches possessed someone, but he’d taken one look at the friendly neighborhood Zombiewolf and knew he wasn’t as smooth as he thought he was.
Derek and Peter had informed the pack in their senior year that if they were all going away for school that they’d need to figure out which pack member was closest and make regular trips out to each other, otherwise the wolves could start getting more and more restless and even the humans would feel the separation acutely. The pack mapped out the routes they needed and figured out who was closest in case anything happened. Scott had to meet everyone’s local pack and introduce his betas to the local alpha before they were allowed on the territory, which had exhausted everyone and stressed Stiles out. Scott was not the best at thinking on his feet, but luckily he had a charm that was undefeatable. Stiles insisted on accompanying Scott and whichever pack member they were introducing, because if he didn’t he’d drive himself nuts with worry.
Kira and Scott were the easiest because UC Davis was in Satomi’s territory and she actually liked the pack as a whole, not just their lovable alpha. Stiles still grinned every time he thought of cute little Kira being a vet at some big zoo, helping big cats and giant gorillas. Kira had always been a little unsteady at social interactions, but she loved animals with her whole being. She’d be the most adorable vet in the world, and Stiles was genuinely happy for her.
Isaac was going to the University of California in Irvine, which put him seven hours from Scott and Kira and ten from Beacon Hills. He was going to school for creative writing. His therapist had recommended he write his abuse through a third person omniscient point of view, and it had not only helped Isaac come to grips with loving and not loving his abusive father, but had also sparked a hidden passion and talent in the boy. Stiles had grown much warmer to Isaac in the past few years and couldn’t wait for his friend to finally get his big break and get a publishing deal. He had the potential to be the next John Green and Stiles was so proud of his strength through the journey he’d traveled. Irvine’s alpha was an older man with a whip quick reflexes and a tendency to hug everyone often. Stiles was hugged every time he opened his mouth, because apparently the man found him hilarious even when he wasn’t making a joke. Stiles liked him immensely and hoped he helped Isaac get past some of his touch avoidance.
Boyd had finally felt comfortable enough with the pack to show everyone his photography senior year. Everyone had been blown away by his skill. He had decided to go to Virginia Commonwealth University to get formal training and learn how to edit his photos. He decided to minor in advertising in case he wanted to go that route at some point. Stiles’ heart swelled every time he thought of their stoic, solemn packmate who’d found solace in the world around him and learned to let himself have something soft and good. He still carried the loss of his sister, but photography had helped Boyd escape his guilt and focus on the beauty around him. Stiles loved him for it. The local alpha was a very old woman with soft eyes that seemed to find the darkness in each of them. Stiles avoided her and her piercing gaze; he knew the darkness that lived in him.
Lydia chafed under the need to be “presented” to an alpha. Stiles had straight out cackled when she asked Scott if he thought she was “some breeding mare that needed to be assessed if she was worth the money or not.” Scott had been so flustered and had no idea what to say to that. Eventually Lydia had cracked and laughed at Scott’s horrible attempts to let her know that “women were amazing and his equal in every way and that actually Lydia would probably be worth more than Scott if they were horses, not that he thought someone could put a value on Lydia that is!” Stiles held that memory very dearly. Lydia had met the alpha with grace and thinly veiled venom and the man had eaten it up. The local alpha was positively wrapped around Lydia’s finger like everyone else in their lives. Stiles loved that girl and was so proud that she was going to Columbia and was on track to win that Fields Medal he told her she’d win all those years ago.
Allison had decided against college and taken a much more badass route. She had started fighting in mixed martial arts competitions in northern California, but quickly advanced to the national tournaments. Her father sent them videos and pictures of her fights and when she was close to a packmate they’d go watch her beat the snot out of whichever poor soul was facing her that night. Stiles was probably the only pack member that drove multiple hours to go see Allison fight, but that was mostly due to the fact that he was enchanted by MMA and absolutely adored her sunshine attitude as she beat the daylights out of someone.
Erica was obviously a pre-med major. Her Epilepsy had denied her so much of her childhood and adolescence that now she was determined to work on Epiletic research. Her major was in pediatrics and that was so in line with the light in her soul. Some of the pack seemed shocked that she had the grades for it, but Stiles had seen her working extra hard junior and senior year to make up for that awful semester sophomore year when she’d been on a power high. Stiles knew she could easily keep up with himself and Lydia, but chose not to wield her brain like the weapon it was. Erica was more preoccupied with experiencing everything than with arguing or debating with Stiles, Lydia, and Peter. She was going to use her second chance to make something of her life. She was going to do everything as she walked the path of medicine. Stiles got misty eyed when he thought of his fierce friend. They’d gotten closer after Gerard’s torture and he was so happy to have her in his life. She even got accepted to Vanderbilt in Nashville, Tennessee, which was amazing. She knew she wanted to get as far from Beacon Hills as financially possible and Vanderbilt had given her an amazing scholarship. Stiles had played Miley Cyrus’ The Climb at the graduation party Erica’s parents had thrown for her. He sang along loudly, and so very off key before grinning at her and reminding her that this is what she had to look forward to in Nashville.
Stiles and Erica actually had the same alpha to meet because Stiles had been given a full ride at the University of Tennessee in Knoxville. He’d accepted immediately. He was surprisingly excited to see the body farm and start his own supernatural research there. The local alpha actually lived in Nashville and she would be able to help Erica in class and on the full moon since she was surprisingly also a professor at Vanderbilt. Stiles was grateful she wasn’t located in Knoxville in case she disapproved of his research and told Scott what he wanted to do.
Stiles has to give his research pitch to the department heads at the end of summer, and he’s honestly nervous about how it’s going to go over. The Body Farm was going to be his saving grace, all of their saving graces actually. If Stiles’ research pitch was approved he’d begin studying the effects of natural toxins as they develop in a corpse. The research idea is relatively simple and unchallenging, but Stiles’ real research would be in reanimating the cadavers and running a series of tests using supernatural toxins and offensive spells. Scott would definitely not approve, though Scott would hopefully never have to know about it. Someone had to figure things out before one of the got irreparably hurt, and after Peter Hale disappeared they had no one left with any real answers. Stiles would find them answers, find them safety, even if Scott would hate him for it.
He had started in this endeavor last autumn when he finally had a space to himself where he could read his spell books and the old diaries he'd began collecting junior year without being labeled a freak. Stiles was already a relatively awkward adult and his ADHD tended to let his mouth run away from him, which usually ended in new people being uncomfortable around him.
He didn’t really care about branching out too much at school. He had made a few friends freshman year, and all of them had slowly fizzled away as they went different routes with their classes. Now that Stiles was firmly into his degree specific classes he had made a few polite connections, but it seemed that everyone was chasing after some TV show and not the realistic side of being a forensic chemist. Stiles had seen the real life of a squint and it was getting increasingly harder not to spoil everyone’s fun about how much “action” they were going to see and how many car chases they were going to be in. It just wasn’t like that.
There was one girl that understood, though she was a criminal justice major so he only occasionally had class with her. Her name was Malia and she was one of the most bad ass girls he’d ever met, on top of being the first werecoyote he’d ever seen. Her hair was buzzed on both sides of her head, but her “mohawk” was so long that she just wore it down flat and would switch which side she parted it on whenever she wanted. Her hair was dyed a different color every couple weeks and her stylist always painted the coolest designs on the buzzed sides. Her hair was currently bright green and blue with an alien head on one side and a spaceship on the other, it was amazing. Malia had no piercings because apparently a were’s accelerated healing meant that they’d be in constant discomfort/pain as the tissues tried to knit themselves together again, and in worse cases the body would just heal around it as if absorbing the metal. That piece of imagery made Stiles want to curl up and die. He couldn’t even imagine what that had to feel like, much less the surgery they’d have to perform to get it out.
Piercings aside, Malia was covered in tattoos. Stiles was both in awe of her strength and on the edge of vomiting at the thought of burnt flesh every time he looked at them. He could still smell that night that Scott got that horrible tattoo.
Malia was a different kind of fighter than Stiles was used to. He spent hours just watching her box with her friends and was genuinely enraptured by the differences in her and Allison's moves and the play of their muscles. Allison was a mixed martial artist and her body was lean with sharply defined muscles, while Malia was a boxer with thick thighs and biceps the size of a cantaloupe. Stiles was in awe of these scary women.
A benefit of his newest friend being a were was that Stiles had someone he could frankly speak to about his research. The first step of which was to successfully reanimate a cadaver only for the specific time period he needed. Malia always accompanied him when he tried, just in case he brought the soul back as well as restarting the body. It was a potentially horrifying side effect of reanimating corpses, if the soul came back then he had technically resurrected them and they had free will again, which almost always ended in blood, death, and murder.
The rest can be found on Archive of Our Own
