Stickypickle



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    Stiles had argued with himself for over a week after the idea came to him.

    He had grown up on tales of the sneaky, malevolent creatures that lived in the forest on the outskirts of their small town. He remembered Melissa telling them bedtime stories of men who thought themselves to be smarter than the monsters, men who had gone into the forest demanding favours and wishes, only to come back different. Both empty handed and empty of mind.

    “Though sometimes,” she would whisper in the dim light of their bedroom. “They would not come back at all.”

    But, it only took one look at his brother’s pained, pale face for Stiles’ instincts to dismiss 21 years of warnings and lectures and decide to go straight to the heart of the forest. He followed the song that spoke to his Spark in order to find one of the creatures that lived deep within, hoping to make a deal in order to keep his family and village safe this winter.

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    13 Jan 2019

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    I'm shit at summaries so here's an excerpt instead!

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    “And what are you doing little one? Hmm?” Peter murmurs as he runs a careful finger along Stiles’ head. God, Stiles would purr if he could at the contact, but he’s too busy trying not to pass out. He can feel Peter taking his pain as he holds him and moves around the apartment.

    He meows quietly, trying to thank Peter in some way, nuzzling into his chest a little with his head.

    Safe.

    He’s safe.

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    13 Jan 2019

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    "So, you're going to ruin your niece's baby shower with flowers in the wrong color?" the florist, Stiles, asks when they reach the counter. He pulls out a binder and starts flipping through it.

    "Not ruin. Mildly inconvenience," Peter says.

    "Right, messing with a hormonal pregnant woman seems like a great plan."

    "To be fair, her fiance and the father of her baby is my ex-boyfriend," Peter says. "And we weren't broken up when they started 'dating'."

    Stiles looks up at him in surprise. "And you're still getting her flowers?" he asks.

    "It's under duress, I assure you," Peter says. He absolutely wouldn't be here if his alpha hadn't ordered it.

    "Well, shit, yeah, let's get you some purple revenge flowers," Stiles says.

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    12 Jan 2019

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    It was like the door was on fire.

    Stiles stood there, staring. As the realization sunk in, he slowly reached for the doorknob. He grabbed it. It burned, as if blazing hot and freezing cold at the same time. He was stuck, fascinated, and then the door clicked-

    -and he was blasted with rage and grief so powerful the next thing he saw was the ceiling of his room.

     

    Who was that?

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    11 Jan 2019

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    It only took a few more feet of trodding through the underbrush to finally find his dog, and the closer he got, the calmer Peter felt. Otis was still barking, but now he was close enough to recognize that it didn’t sound like alarm. It sounded like something between 'play!' and 'squirrel!'

    Peter realized he was probably spending too much time with only a dog for company.

    “Otis! What is it?”

    The dog was wagging his tail, guarding the roots of a tree, and as he got closer, Peter saw that it wasn’t actually the tree that got him hyped up, it was the shaggy ball of red fur nestled at the base.

    “The hell…”

    It was a small fox. At least it looked small, but Peter had no idea how big full grown foxes were. It looked small next to Otis.

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    10 Jan 2019