All I see is Stiles with his two little boys, he just picked up from kindergarten, thinking about how the hell he’ll get that new kindergarten teacher to agree to a date cause he’s not only brilliant at getting his boys to take their nap, no he’s also smoking hot like how is that even fair?
I adore this trope to death (and you should read the AMAZING
GIFT that was crafted for me by the wonder that is @crossroadswrite. Go read it. It’s
better than anything I could produce). I’m sorry but I’m now going to rant at
you about the thing that I really love about this trope, and that I never read
often enough:
Derek Hale, the werewolf.
(with woves pics, because apparently it’s a tradition when I write now)
In fics, Derek often kinda fails at being human. He’s too violent, too silent,
too creepy. And sometimes it’s fun, sometimes it’s heartbreaking, sometimes it’s
cute. But I don’t often read fic acknowledging that Derek isn’t
Erica or Scott or Boyd or Isaac. Derek fails at being human because he never was one.
Derek was born a werewolf, grew up with werewolf parents, werewolf
brothers and sisters and uncle and grandparents. He was a baby with fangs, a
kid who fell asleep to stories of little werewolves saving the world, grew up a
teenager fighting with his parents when he had to fake being bad at sports.
And why would the werewolf world have the same social rules as humans? They
have different metabolisms, different hierarchy rules, a different sense of
legacy and territory.
I want to read about a world where a lot of sentences are short and to
the point, because half the informations is olfactory. Where you don’t have to
expand on some subjects, because body language is the norm and the way you will
incline your chin, lower your shoulders, raise your eyes will say more than any
words.
I want a world where letting your eyes flash or your fangs drop might
mean threat or sarcasm or honesty depending on your whole body language. Where
jokes are so, so different from human’s because they are based on a lie obvious
to your public in your heartbeat, in a ridiculous contradiction between words
and body posture. Where personal space is not a polite concept, but similar to
humans yelling at somebody from the other side of the room, since so much of
the meaning comes with scent. Talking to someone from a few feet away forces
him to sniff the air obviously like a pup and it’s rude.
I want werewolf traditions where earth is the more touching gift that
can be given to a potential mate, because it represents territory and pack and
safety. Where flowers are an insult because the scent is often overpowering and
they remind them of wolfsbane.
In their world where bones mend in minutes, pain is a thing that can
be taken away and werewolf walk around with extreme strength, violence is not
frowned upon so much. Pups fight already to the blood, biting by accident with
too sharp fangs. Adults arguing often shove each other roughly. Fighting is
something they learn all their life, just in case, and a part of their life
they are not ashamed of.
And more than all, the werewolf world would be one where touch is a
whole part of communication. Touching strangers is the norm to prove you means
no harm. Keeping your scent to yourself can only mean hidden agenda, and being
afraid of your actions being traced back to you by scent.
And werewolves are packs before being families. So werewolf kids grow up thinking that
touch is something obvious, something they should never beg or ask permission
for. If you sit somewhere, other will organically accumulate around you. If you
are tired, you can fall asleep on others. Hugs are the norm, kisses too. Pack
will touch all the time for comfort, for love, for pack sent.
So, you know. I miss fics where Derek isn’t so much a fail!wolf as a
perfect werewolf, just evolving in a world where he can’t handle social clues.
Where a few years in school only means that he learned to imitate human attitudes but doesn’t
really understand it, like a second language he can only use clumsily.
Kate the hunter makes so much sense like this. She would have known
everything about werewolf behavior and would have played right into it to
seduce Derek. On the other hand, when we actually see Derek try to seduce a human
in the show, it just so over the top that it looks like he’s trying to imitate
something he saw in a TV show…
So you know. Maybe Derek is not silent, but simply surrounded by people
unable to understand him. He speaks a dead language in this town now.
Stiles,
Allison, Lydia are humans. Scott, Erica, Boyd, Jackson, Isaac are humans that just
took on a wolf pelt.
And when Derek jokes, with a terse phrase but a playful raise of his
shoulders, they only hear the terse phrase.
When he raises his eyebrows, they
can’t read the meaning in his scent. He’s only raising his eyebrows.
When they
fight, they only see the violence, they don’t associate with the way pups play
fight.
When he sits somewhere in silence, they will not come naturally to touch
and Derek will not think of asking because they are pack.
firstly i’d like to stress i do not take prompts like this secondly i’d like to point out how AWESOME this prompt was thirdly i’d like to say i am absolute sterek trash and that’s why there’s 3.4k of this
Stiles would like for you to
know this was not his fault.
Okay, so
maybe it might’ve been a little bit his fault.
Maybe there had been a witch gone feral, and maybe
that witch had been threatening the pack so maybe, there might have been the
distinct possibility of Stiles – and again this is all hypothetical – have
confronted her, ran for his life and then consequently killed said witch.
And maybe
that witch happened to have a girlfriend and maybe that girlfriend might’ve
been so grief stricken that she cursed Stiles with… something. He doesn’t remember what it was.
Wait,
what’s he doing in the woods, again?
He’s not
supposed to be here.
He shrugs
at himself and then turns around and walks back home.
«»
It’s not
even five in the afternoon when he gets a frantic call from Scott, which okay.
Not cool, dude. Stiles just wanted to play some disturbing Japanese horror
games. Not get his afternoon spoiled by whatever new supernatural creature came
into town.
“Where are
you? We found that witch. She’s dead
Stiles.”
Stiles
knits his eyebrows at his screen, “What witch?” he asks confusedly. What are
you talking about, Scotty.”
“What-
Stiles. The witch. She almost killed
Isaac. She almost killed Allison. That
witch.”
Stiles
huffs and pushes off his desk, “Why do you only tell me these things after the action is already dead, uh
Scotty?”
There’s
silence in the other end, “Stiles. Are you okay?”
“Peachy
keen, Scotty. Why?”
Scott’s
voice is careful on the phone, “Stiles you were there.”
“I- was?”
“D-don’t
you remember.”
Stiles
rolls away from his desk and stands up, suddenly agitated. He tries to remember and comes up with
gaps. A lot of last week just a dark swirling void of emptiness.
“Scott-
Scott I think the witch might’ve done something to me. I don’t remember
anything from last week.”
There’s a
beat of silence on the other end, “I’m coming to get you, don’t go anywhere,”
he demands and then hangs up.
Stiles
blinks down at his phone for a second too long and then jerks into motion,
rolling his corkboard out of his closet and setting on retracing every single
step he remembers making during the past few days.
(WOULD ALSO KILL FOR VERSION IN WHICH THIS DIALOGUE AND ALL FEELINGS WERE REVERSED.)
stiles buried his head into his pillow, facing the wall. “it’s not safe, y’know. all of this.”
he felt the bed shift beside him. “‘all of this?’”
“you know what i mean. i don’t have to sky write it, or, or spell it out in blood. this—me, i—us.”
he held is breath and waited. the silence stretched out for a long, painful moment, and stiles could feel the agreement in the air, could hear it in the way derek sighed.
but then he felt a nose, slightly cold, nuzzle behind his ear, followed by a faint, soft brush of lips against his neck.
theproblemwithstardust 