#have fun with my weird medical history

[myfriendskickass]

we still need to clean the house (still doing basement maintenance) and i need to find adhd friendly ways to clean frequently enough to eliminate all my OTHER environmental allergies first bc i am allergic to cats technically but if/when i get a new cat i cant just LEAVE THEM smh

@vergess does this sound like mcas to you

brief allergy history overview for context:

allergic to dust, pollen (esp ragweed), cat and dog dander, mold, cigarette smoke apparently?? a couple of other things supposedly idr i got dx'd in 1999

was on allergy meds of various kinds from age 5 to present plus allergy shots starting every 2 weeks graduating to every month. meds i REMEMBER taking (remember i started at age 5.): zyrtec twice a day rx until it went otc (idr dosage), rhinocort (idr if rx or otc). stopped that at some point idr when or why. rx patanol twice a day. saline nose spray twice a day. allergy shots never make me react more than some itchiness.

got the cat in 8th grade. allergist was NOT happy about it. reaction was itchy eyes for like 2 weeks that eventually stopped.

went to college in early 2010s. allergist said i dont need shots anymore. no access to allergist meant i stopped using the patanol unless my eyes got SUPER itchy because at the time it was rx only. continued to take otc generic zyrtec 10mg twice a day. (i was on liquid until like high school bc i couldnt swallow pills so when i switched to pills i continued the same dosage which...is HONESTLY pediatric now that i think about it, but even at 18 it still worked? i was still very skinny though)

then 3 years into college i started getting acid reflux so bad i couldn't eat plain lettuce. got an endoscopy done. got dx'd with eosinophilic esophagitis. got put on 40mg sodium pantoprazole (insurance would not cover nexium.) once a day. (COINCIDENTALLY GAINED A LOT OF WEIGHT AFTER THIS HMM)

went back to same allergist i have been seeing since i was 5. got a skin test done. was told i was MORE reactive (especially to cat :() than i was in 1999...all from 3 years without allergy shots? at least on the skin test. started shots again. got blood tested for food allergies. results seem to fluctuate whether i ate that thing before testing (ie whether it comes up as higher than what the bloodwork calls "level 0/equivocal") two constant and consistent results are hazelnuts and carrots (which have ALWAYS given me acid reflux)

i go back to gi with these results. they tell me i might have GERD. (allergist, when told of my eosinic dx, says "ugh i hope not, you need a liquid diet to deal with that."). second endoscopy after a month on the proton pump inhibitor. acid damage is healing. they tell me its safe to stay on pantoprazole long term.

fast forward to today, 9 years later. i take 10 mg of zyrtec otc twice a day. i tried flonase, did nothing. allegra is too hard to swallow. getting monthly allergy shots. rinse my nose out with saline when i remember to. take otc patanol extra strength once a day (package says to and its easier to remember than twice a day). i skip pantoprazole until the acid reflux gets very bad because 1. makes me gain weight 2. unsure about how safe it is long term 3. i just forget sometimes. i stopped eating all food allergens EXCEPT dairy because whether whey shows up as an ige allergy seems to fluctuate and also i love cheese. i am working on it.

SYMPTOMS, though: constant post nasal drip. (no change from childhood.) nose is stuffier but managed with saline. general constant low level cold symptoms (stuffy nose, very rare slight cough) eyes water only if i forget to use eyedrops. sometimes i get itchy but no hives, no redness. acid reflux when i skip the ppi or eat carrots. i gave up nutella entirely because nut allergies can apparently get worse out of the blue very fast. ragweed season gives me watery eyes and stuffy nose almost 24/7 but no wheezing or breathing issues. ANIMAL DANDER, my biggest concern, gives me itchy watery eyes DEPENDING on how clean the environment is. (i was completely fine in a small house for 12 hours with 4 cats and 3 dogs, fine in my sister's house for 6-8 hours with a shibe, but not fine in a house with 3 cats thats never vaccuumed, and not fine in my sister's car that had no shibe in it.) (not fine is still just minor eye symptoms)

cat died in 2017 so i no longer have long term exposure but dander supposedly stays in the house right? towards the end of his life, we let him in my previously off limits room that had a knockoff hepa filter running 24/7 with no issues. he was not in my room 24/7. currently i have a purezone i think??? hepa filter running 8-6 hours a day because the blue light is required for it to function. i try to change it every 3 months but sometimes i forget.

i really want another cat...even though my allergist is of the "you shouldn't be exposing yourself to any allergens on purpose" mentality. she DOES think mcas exists. she also said its safe to take 10mg cetirizine hcl 4x a day. people tell me allergies can get worse with exposure over time but then how would allergy shots work?

things i wonder about and will ask her next appointment: i am no longer 18 and 90lbs soaking wet- is 10mg of zyrtec once a day enough? did i build a tolerance? should i go back to twice a day?

my current goals:

i will use saline more often. vaccuum and dust more. keep my air filter running 24/7. IF i get a cat, no access to my room ever. i will feed it that purina food scientifically proven to lower the amount of allergen in their dander.

my big fear is 1. i have mcas which makes any allergy exposure a risk 2. people are correct unfortunately and allergy exposure DOES make it worse and that getting a cat now will give me anaphylaxis in the future :( (but then how do allergy shots work???)

i have never experienced anaphylaxis. i have never needed an epi pen. i never needed benadryl.i still don't react to the allergy shots. reactions to pet dander are mild annoying itchy eyes that depend on how clean the area is and also don't always last for the entire time i am exposed anyway. but my bloodwork shows inflammation a lot but no doctor has ever been concerned.

is this mcas??? it kind of looks more like i got sloppy with cleaning and med taking and also possibly built up a tolerance to zyrtec/gained enough weight that 10mg/a day is not enough anymore? allegra did nothing when i switched but i was also taking it 1x a day

my PLAN was get on top of every other allergen so that cat dander is the only thing i am exposed to on a daily basis BUT if this looks more like my allergies overall are just getting worse, i don't want to risk getting a cat just to have to rehome it.

lol sorry this adhd ramble was prompted by pc advice

i am NOT asking for medical advice! i am asking 1. what to ask my doctor in a way that wont make her fire me as a patient for getting a cat (right now she just says "its different when you own one" but i had one for 11 years with no issue so???) 2. does this match your experience as somebody with mcas

[capesandshapes]

I constantly mention tricyclics and really old medications just because I had epilepsy when I was really young and took keppra for a prolonged period while my brain was developing and like fun fact, they still don't know a whole lot about what happens when you're on these medications long-term and you're really young, because the primary concern is stopping seizures and then everything else is kind of like a "in the search of a greater good" type of thing

So like I get really sick on anything that affects my serotonin levels, to the point where I just leave vomit profusely and am actually just extremely miserable and they were like "eh, could be the keppra thing" and recorded it for future reference but like now I take like primarily super old medications from before ssris were popularized

So if y'all ever think you might be the same possible brand of fucked up as me and ssris and snris make you really sick there's your little possible reasoning??? Idk but shout out to the shitty old antidepressants, they've literally saved my life.

[artemismatchalatte]

I have no idea what I'm going to do for NaNoWriMo this year. I feel very uninspired lately.

I just want to do well in my class and my energy has been low lately (season change on my new medicine, I'm guessing???). I need some energy because it's Shakespeare and I need to keep my grades up to stay in the honors society (no pressure lol).

Much More in the tags as per usual... :P

[iceskatingmobsters]

I have learned a lot of. weird shit. in the process of researching for this fic. for instance, before normal saline, the fucking fluid of choice to rehydrate someone who lost a dickload of blood was milk, fuck you if you were lactose intolerant. also sockeye salmon have eight different blood types and cows have at least fucking ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY

[tossawary]

I wish we saw more casual diversity among Vulcans in regards to... well, everything: fashion, art, history, geography, language, religion and philosophy, occupations, familial units, and logical styles and emotional management, and so on. The monoculture that "Star Trek" tends towards is both unrealistic and kind of boring.

(I think that my ideal "Star Trek" show would have a minimum of two matching non-humans in the main crew who are from opposite sides of their planet; these two alien coworkers have almost NOTHING in common. It immediately creates compelling character dynamics.)

Anyway, even within the specific Surakian Logic sect that Spock and his family seem to belong to, there's still opportunity for fun, divisive hobbies among this particular group of Vulcans. We can have judgey Vulcans looking at other Vulcans' weird, harmless antics and saying, "What illogical behavior," while the other Vulcans are judging them back for being illogical in their own opinion. Let Vulcans be REAL nerds: I think that pre-Surak historical reenactment is not an uncommon hobby, both casual LARPing and hardcore reenactment.

It's educational to spin and weave and sew your own pre-Surakian garments! It's educational to forge your own weaponry! It's grounding, like meditation! It is humbling to truly realize the complicated labor involved in fabrication. Even when they were surrendering to their emotional urges, you know, Vulcan ancestors were not completely illogical: they knew how to fashion a comfortable garment well-suited to the desert. Camping in the wilderness and foraging for food connects oneself to nature, teaches about history, and settles oneself in the present.

Also, it's good physical exercise and emotionally cathartic to beat the shit out of each other with foam-wrapped lirpa, screaming at the top of your lungs. It's very logical. There's a medical team on standby, reading on their pads and drinking tea.

You beam down in the wrong part of the desert at the right time and find a bunch of scantily-clad Vulcan warriors (outfits depend on the chosen time period and location) (of all genders) shrieking and rolling in the dirt, until a timer goes off, and then the scheduled mock-battle is over and everyone helps each other up. (Depends how hardcore the group is, of course.) (Also, yeah, obviously, some of these groups have a hook-up culture attached / embedded.) Two bleeding guys who were previously punching each other in the face salute each other and part ways, one to go write a new archeological paper based on his findings here ("Fascinating") and the other to his low-level government desk job ("Most invigorating exercise").

If this happens anywhere near where people live, then the neighbors are shaking their heads and saying to each other, "I don't know how anyone could come to their conclusions and call it logical. Their foundational premises must be flawed." 😐 Some of them while closely watching the entire scandalous affair through binoculars and telescopes, of course. 🤔

[okay-j-hannah]

Part 5: Mieczyslaw

Teen Wolf : Multishot

Stiles Stilinski x Reader

Word Count: 13k

Warnings: series rewrite, season 1 {aka 2011}, slow burn, friends to lovers, Stiles pining, eventual NSFW, usual teen wolf levels of violence and gore, heart conditions, fainting

Request: This just came from my own head 😊  

A/N: A little more history of the Reader in this one - I honestly love her family's backstory

Part 4: Ollie's Catnip

Part 5: Mieczyslaw {You Are Here}

Part 6: Orange Cream and Peachy Sugar

The hospital was quiet that evening. You were assigned to the long-term care floor and spent long hours updating patient files and making your rounds. Checking vitals, refilling water bottles, adjusting patients with bed sores, and administering medication at the right times.

It was the perfect distraction. You would be missing the lacrosse game that night, missing the first game with Scott being co-captain and Stiles being first line.

You’d be missing Andrew and his dimpled grin.

Instead of focusing on that the rest of the night, you call Lydia who had texted you an SOS.

“What do you mean you’re done?”

“I mean, he sent me a pathetic text asking for his house key back. The loser is so down in the dumps that he doesn’t think he deserves me, which is right, of course.”

You hold the phone with your shoulder and start typing notes into a patient file, “I’m sorry, Lyds. Breakups suck.”

“He’s become such an asshole recently. I don’t know what’s gotten into him. But good riddance. I needed to climb the social food chain anyway. He’s been lacking in the lacrosse category.”

“Sounds like you’re handling it surprisingly well.”

“I’m completely over him. Only took a few minutes… seconds actually.”

You smile, “Yeah, you barely sound upset over it.”

She can hear your sarcasm, “Did you hear that Allison is still going to the game? Her dad and aunt are going too.”

“That’s weird,” you frown, “I wonder why.” With the Argents being hunters… you wonder how much they know about the number of werewolves in town.

“You’re still on shift tonight?”

“Yes, right where I want to be. The perfect excuse to miss the game.” You upload another patient file and wave to another night nurse leaving for her break. It was just you and one other nurse on the floor – a redhead named Jennifer.

“Anything exciting happening?” she asks in a huff, upset that the attention was no longer on her dilemma.

“Nope, I’m working the long-term floor. Everyone here is mostly in recovery or stuck in their beds. It’s usually pretty quiet at night, which is why there’s less staff.”

“Fascinating,” Lydia says quickly, “Anyway, I’ve got to go. I’m going to sit with Allison and scope out my next boyfriend.” She laughs before adding, “Don’t worry, Andrew is off the table.”

You scoff, “Yeah, thanks. Have fun.” And you slide your phone back into your scrubs pocket.

The next half hour was relatively quiet, just two call buttons going off. The rest of your time was spent making your rounds and completing chores. That is until a pair of sneakers comes walking down the hallway.

“Yeah, I said I can’t find her.”

You stand to confront the foreign male voice that was definitely intruding past visiting hours, only to find Stiles on the phone. He was getting snippy with whoever he was talking to, “Hey, listen here wolfman – the only reason I’m harboring your fugitive ass is because you saved (Y/N)’s life last full moon, got it? I don’t owe you any more favors.”

“What the hell?” you say, catching his attention, “Don’t you have a lacrosse game to get to, hotshot?”

In a few seconds you can see a range of emotions flickering through his face: confusion, happiness, worry, and something in the way he looks at your scrubs. “Hi, (Y/N).”

You walk around the nurses station and fold your arms, “Care to answer my question?”

He gives you a goofy side smile, “You’re talking to me.”

“Yes, Stiles,” you fight the immediate grin that wants to envelop your face. “What are you doing here?”

He leans into the phone for a second, “Uh… is there a Jennifer working here?”

“She’s the on call nurse tonight, why?” you pop a hip, arms still tightly crossed.

“What about Melissa?” he asks, walking down the hall and to a room. He speaks to the phone again, “Yeah, well, he’s not here either.”

“Who are you talking to?” you ask exasperatedly, “Stiles, you can’t be here past visiting hours. Would you please…”

“He’s not here. He’s gone, Derek.”

Your jaw drops, “The fugitive you’re harboring is Derek?”

He looks to you, “Yeah, the rest of the town doesn’t know he’s innocent because it’s actually a psycho Alpha werewolf that’s killing everyone,” he says to you. “You sure Melissa isn’t here?”

You hold your hands up, “I’m not answering anymore of your questions until you tell me what’s going on.”

Suddenly you can hear the frantic voice of Derek over the phone and Stiles has a look of instant terror. It sets you on edge when a mysterious man stands at the corner of the hall; it was as if he had appeared out of thin air.

Half his face is covered in burn scars and after a second thought you realize that it’s Peter Hale – the long-term resident of the floor. Your eyes widen at the sight of him standing without his wheelchair and Stiles takes a few steps in your direction.

“You must be Stiles,” Peter says in an eerily calm tone. He’s barely smiling as he nods in your direction, “Hello, (Y/N). It’s nice to finally be able to speak to you.”

Stiles drops his hand holding the phone, walking back until he feels you near him. He reaches behind him and takes hold of your arm. Your instinct is to press yourself closer into his back, “Is that…?”

“He’s the Alpha,” Stiles mutters, whipping his head to the side at the newcomer.

“Jennifer!” you say, “We have a situation with…”

The redheaded nurse holds her head high, “Shut up!”

Your mouth clamps shut – how many people are in on this? Stiles, in his usual fashion, can’t stay quiet for long.

“You and… him? You’re his… and he’s the…” Stiles is shielding you with his body at this point. “Oh my god, we’re gonna die. We’re gonna die.”

You jab a finger into his spine, silencing him. “This is not how I’m supposed to die.”

But with an elbow to the face, Jennifer falls to the floor and Derek takes her place. You forget momentarily how tall, dark, and handsome he is. Peter speaks again with that same calm, menacing tone.

“That’s not nice. She’s my nurse.”

You start to pull Stiles against you, taking you both behind the nurses station.

“She’s a psychotic bitch helping you kill people.”

Peter makes his way over, “You think I killed Laura on purpose? One of my own family?”

A growl ripples from Derek’s throat, fangs appearing from his open mouth. Blue eyes glowing with strange power, he bounds for the attack. You’re paralyzed at seeing the action up close.

“Holy shi…”

Stiles drags you to the floor, doggy-paddling across the tile like a swimmer. You army crawl beside him as Peter and Derek start to throw each other against the hospital walls. Bits of plaster and plastic side railing break away easily.

“Okay,” you say, coughing as you breathe in some plaster dust, “I believe you now. I really believe you.”

“Is that why you haven’t been talking to me or Scott?” Stiles yells over the growling werewolves. “Scott could have easily proven werewolves existed if you just asked him to show himself.”

They continue their sliding movements across the station and to the next hall, the sound of breaking glass loud behind you. “No, I stopped talking to you because I needed a break after hearing the truth. It’s a lot to think about when you realize the whole freaking town has lore in supernatural entities that aren’t just make believe… they’re actual fucking werewolves!” You swipe an arm across the tile and shove his legs out of the way to reach his side. “I needed time to cope with the sudden shift in what I knew to be reality.”

“Understandable,” he pants, tongue sticking out, “I just wish we could’ve helped you cope instead of you just shutting us out.”

“Like I said… I wasn’t really thinking!”

“And of course it was the same night as Scott forcing a kiss on you and trying to kill you in your own home…”

“Shut the hell up, Stilinski! Bigger problems at hand!” The werewolves were moving to a different patient room to continue their fight. You gesture to the end of the hall, “The emergency exit is there. We just have to get there and down the stairs. We can call 911 when we’re outside.”

Stiles agrees, watching you with a different panic, “How’s your heart?”

“If anything happens we’re in a hospital,” you say frankly, “Come on.” You lead the way as the fighting becomes quieter.

Stiles admires you from behind, standing to run the last few feet. You slam into the door and guide the way down the many flights of stairs. Stiles is jumping whole steps and crashing into the walls.

Your lungs start to fight for breath by the time you reach the bottom, Stiles tripping over the last step and falling to his knees beside you.

“Does… Does the Alpha have control…” you pant, holding a stitch in your side, “… over Derek?”

Stiles breathes dramatically, his face scrunching up in a funny way. “I wouldn’t be surprised. He might be forcing Derek onto his side right now with some crazy alpha mind control.”

You stumble toward the exit, shoving it open to a gust of chilly night air. You lean against the hospital wall, hands on your hips. Stiles follows, pulling out his car keys.

“Can you make it to the jeep?”

“If I say no would you carry me?”

He shrugs, pulling a face, “No promises. I could probably swing a piggy-back ride.”

“Yeah, no thanks,” you say, bending down to put your head between your knees. It was routine when you were out of breath and starting to feel lightheaded. Your hands lay flat on the concrete, your mind focusing on how cold and gritty it feels under your fingers. You listen to the crickets and the wind whistling through trees. You smell the honey sweet rain from Stiles.

A large warm hand spreads against your back, rubbing up and down your spine.

You feel the air flood your lungs, “Have you called the police yet?”

“I told them there was a possible break-in and a nurse got knocked out,” he says, “They’ll be here soon.”

You take a few deep breaths, soothed by Stiles’ hand. “I have to wait for the police.” You sit up and Stiles retreats a few feet. The action makes you consider him for a few seconds. “I’m not mad at you or Scott. I just… I needed some distance while I tried to figure things out.”

There’s a bob in Stiles’ throat, “And… have you figured things out?”

You screw up your lips in thought, “I need to talk to Scott first.”

Stiles nods vigorously, hope lighting his eyes. “Yeah, yeah – for sure. Let’s go find him now, I’m sure the lacrosse game is almost over.”

A flash of pity is in your face, “You missed your first game.”

“Yeah, well…” he waves a hand, extending it to help you to your feet. “I had a couple more important things to tackle tonight.”

“Won’t your dad be disappointed?”

“Maybe a little,” he shrugs, walking to the passenger side of the jeep, “But if the pinkeye epidemic continues then I’m still first line for the time being!”

You giggle, sliding into the jeep, “I’ll pray for the conjunctivitis.” With the heater still broken, you’re grateful you chose a long-sleeve undershirt for your scrubs. It took a few minutes for you to call your boss and explain the situation.

The police were on their way, and you were meant to stay to give a witness statement. It would also have been irresponsible to leave your patients in their time of need. Choosing to wait in the jeep was just common sense seeing as there were two werewolves having a row upstairs.

“Do you think Derek is okay?” you look out the window.

Stiles was drumming his fingers against the steering wheel, “He’s fine. Peter will probably try to get him under his control.”

“Then what?”

“He’ll keep trying to get Scott into his pack.” Stiles leans more against the door to get a better look at you. “So we have some catching up to do.”

“Like what?” you smile.

He frowns, picking at his fingers, “I don’t know… like how Jackson broke up with Lydia.”

“Yeah,” you grimace, “Lydia only just told me about the breakup tonight.”

Stiles blows air between his lips, “Jackson always has another agenda. He’s been black mailing Scott because he wants the werewolf bite.”

“You’re kidding,” you say, “How did he find out about the supernatural?”

“I don’t know! He hasn’t been talking to anyone, not even Danny.”

You lean against the door to match Stiles’ stance, “Well, I know Lydia has said he’s never been the same since Scott outperformed him. He’s been slipping ever since.” You rub at your eyes, “He doesn’t talk to me much, and now it’s awkward between him and Lydia.”

“There’s also the news that the Argents know about a second beta werewolf.” At your look of confusion, he continues, “They know there’s an alpha and they know about Derek. They’ve realized that there’s a second werewolf and they’re trying to figure out who it is.”

“They being Allison’s dad and aunt?”

Stiles nods, “They have been scouting ever since – they think it might be a teenager.”

Your head perks up, “Lydia said Allison’s family was going to be at the game tonight. I bet they’re looking for clues as to who could be the other werewolf.”

“Let’s just hope they don’t suspect Scott.”

Stiles continues to pick at his nails, looking at them instead of you. “I’ve also heard that you might be going on a date with a certain potential lacrosse boyfriend…?”

You fight a smile, “Andrew asked me out.”

“And you said?”

“Yes!” you laugh, “I’ve been waiting for him to ask since I started working with Coach on the lacrosse field.” You miss the bitterness in Stiles’ face; he was trying to hide it with his downcast gaze.

A police siren could be heard down the highway. Stiles clears his throat, “Is he going to ask you to the winter formal?”

“I don’t know,” you shrug, tickled at the thought, “But that’s still a couple weeks away.”

“Do you want him to?” Stiles finally looks at you, straining to keep the hurt he feels at bay. The tightness of his chest was smothered by the boiling jealousy in his stomach. He hates the way you sound doting on Andrew. And he hates himself for being jealous over something he shouldn’t be mad about.

You made your choice and Andrew is a good guy.

“I’m not sure. He doesn’t know about my heart and a formal dance would be prime time for it to give out.” You take a deep breath, “I’d rather not spoil an evening like that.”

Stiles nods and considers you, “I guess you just need to go with someone that knows how to calm you. That way you don’t need to worry.”

It was suddenly tense for a few seconds while the police cars come closer to the hospital. You put a hand on the door handle and say, “You should probably get out of here so your dad doesn’t overhear why you might not be at the game. Police radios, you know…”

“Right,” Stiles says, “Let me know if anything comes up. I’m going to find Scott and tell him about our newly identified alpha.”

~~~

The next few days felt a little less hostile as the friend group settles into a new norm. Jackson is still moseying up to Allison, who is still apologizing on behalf of Scott for the impromptu kissing. You console her in that Scott wasn’t himself that day.

Allison was also venturing into new hobbies to keep her mind off things. She had taken to practicing archery in the woods, sometimes taking you or Lydia with her.

Jackson was talking in angry whispers to Scott and Stiles more often. You know it has something to do with seeking the werewolf curse.

As for yourself, you were working on your science project implanting E.coli in varying meats and cooking them, swabbing each as you go and putting samples in petri dishes. They were currently incubating in the chemistry lab while you walk down the hall with Andrew.

“I’m sorry I missed it,” you say, eyeing the way Andrew held your books for you.

“Hey, now we’re going to state,” he says, “You can come to that game.”

You smile, almost to English, “I’ll bring my pom-poms and megaphone.”

Andrew laughs, handing back your books for class, “I won’t say no to a little cheerleading outfit.” He winks at you and a warm blush envelops both your faces.

“I’ll see you later,” you say.

Walking into class you’re quick to notice Scott and Stiles staring at you (Stiles with a little more of a frown). You choose to sit in front of Scott, taking any opportunity for Allison to be near him.

“(Y/N)…” he starts with hesitance, “Stiles told me you’re talking again.”

You don’t turn around at first, “And?”

He leans forward across the desk, and you can hear his whisper over your shoulder. “I’ve been trying to think of a way to apologize to you this last week and… nothing seems good enough. After you avoided me and everything, I thought I lost my chance.” He sighs and you can feel it in your hair. “(Y/N), I am so so sorry. I’m sorry for attacking you – I’m sorry for forcing a kiss on you – I’m sorry for scaring you – and I’m sorry for trying to kill you.”

Very slowly you pivot in your chair to look at him.

Those puppy-dog eyes were back full force. Those were Scott’s eyes – not the dark, menacing look they had on the full moon. You knew the difference was night and day. The real Scott McCall would never do those things if he was in full control.

“I feel terrible,” he continues, afraid at your persistent silence. “I’m an awful friend and I should have told you the truth sooner. Maybe you would have been more prepared for the full moon like Stiles.”

You blink, “Have you apologized to Allison?”

“Well, I tried…” he scratches at his shaggy head, adding to his puppy-dog look. “She was shooting arrows in the forest with Lydia yesterday… and I needed to return a necklace of hers.”

“You mean you were stalking her?”

“The details are a little foggy,” he says quickly, “I might’ve scared her and she tazed me.”

Stiles snorts from beside Scott and you have to stop yourself from losing your composure. “She’s picked up a few things since breaking up with you.”

“I noticed,” he says lowly. “Anyway, I tried to apologize, and I think it got to her a little. She’s still mad, but I think she might forgive me eventually.”

“I told you,” you say with a slight smile. It gives Scott hope.

“And what about you?” his dark brown eyes are wide with anxiety.

You share a look with Stiles, who shrugs. “I forgive you.”

Scott sighs, his head falling into his arms on the desk. “Thank god. I promise, (Y/N), I didn’t mean to do any of those things. The full moon had me wired and it was like something else was controlling my body.”

“It’s okay, Scott. I did a lot of thinking while taking a break.” You look between Scott and Stiles as the tardy bell rings. “And I don’t think I can be involved with all this werewolf stuff.”

Stiles is nearly out of his chair with how he reacts. “What do you mean?” his desk squeaks terribly against the tile floor.

“I mean, I’d like to still be friends with you guys…”

An awful needle like puncture was screwing its way through Stiles’ chest. Friends.

“… but I don’t really want to be included in any werewolf business or late night investigations or almost being killed – which has happened to me about three times now since starting school.”

“Werewolf business is a very regular part of my life,” Scott says with a disbelieving laugh.

You nod, “I get it, I just mean I’d love to hang out or go to a party sometime, but I can’t be involved with anything else related to the alpha situation.”

Stiles was having trouble swallowing as Scott continues, “Like it or not, (Y/N) – you’re kind of a part of my pack. The pack that the Alpha wants me to get rid of.”

“Then… I’m resigning from the pack,” you shrug half-heartedly.

Stiles’ jaw nearly hits the floor as the teacher snaps at the three of you for talking. There is about three minutes of quiet as the teacher explains the upcoming book report that you’ve already finished on Sense and Sensibility.

After that you receive a group text from both Scott and Stiles.

Stiles: You’re just unfriending the pack?!

(Y/N): Can’t I do that and still be friendly?

Stiles: No

Scott: Of course you can. We just don’t get why

You raise your hand and share what stance you took on the book report requirements. You wrote an analytical piece on the personalities of two sisters: Elenor being all sense and Marianne being all sensibility.

The teacher looks pleased and asks for more volunteers. You’re now covered to keep texting.

(Y/N): Tell you later

Scott: Ok

Stiles: Tell us now

You tuck your phone away and feel it buzz with a few more messages before going quiet. You don’t mean for it to be such a shock. You just knew that the more stress you had the more likely you’d have a fainting episode with your heart condition. That would lead to more heart damage and an end that you want to prolong as much as possible.

Being surrounded by high stress werewolf situations was going to be the death of you.

You are quick to leave the classroom at the bell and the boys weren’t far behind.

“Hey,” Stiles grabs your shoulder, slowing you down. “Explain.”

Scott holds his backpack straps, awkward but less demanding on hearing your explanation.

“It’s not a good idea for me to be around a lot of stress,” you sigh, “You know… because of my heart.”

Both boys purse their lips and share a look. Scott is quiet when he asks, “Because you have a tachee-heart?”

You and Stiles both say, “Tachycardia?” You laugh and continue, “Yes. My heartbeat is already irregular and if I do anything to add to it… it’s bad news bears.”

“Care to expand on what these bad news bears are?” Stiles asks irritably.

“That’s a talk for another day,” you say quickly, leading the way to your next class. “Just know that the more my heart struggles the worse off I’ll be.”

“But we can help you,” Stiles says, pressing into your shoulder as you all walk down the hallway. “We can calm you down if that happens.” I can calm you down.

You sigh, “Not always. It can be random and persistent.” You stop outside the door of your next class. “This isn’t me saying we can’t be friends, just… I want to avoid any werewolfy scenarios that might involve near death and/or general terror.”

You leave Scott and Stiles to contemplate out in the hallway. Shoulders sagging, Scott groans, “This werewolf thing is ruining my life.”

“Yeah, and mine.” Stiles broods at the classroom door, taking a second to realize what he said and turning to the mild anger on Scott’s face. “What? I’m the best friend – I am legally bound to whatever misery you experience.”

“All the new friends I’ve made are literally being pushed away because of this curse,” Scott rubs hard at his face, “And it’s ruined my love life, not to mention my lifespan. Hunters are basically knocking down my front door!”

“Yeah, it’s really putting a damper on my love life too.” Stiles mumbles to himself, “I really thought I had a shot with her.”

Scott shoves his friend, “Even after all her talk about Andrew?”

Stiles scowls, “That’s just a silly crush.”

“And what she feels for you is… what exactly?”

“Hidden feelings that I will unlock one day for her to realize that I am the perfect guy for her…” he licks his lips, wincing, “… despite the clumsiness, sarcasm, and general idiocy.”

Scott laughs, “Yeah, she’s really missing out.”

“Hey!” he rams into Scott as they walk towards their next class. “I really like her, Scott. Like… I like her, like her.”

“I know, Loverboy.”

“She’s all I can think about, and I know I’m just a pathetic friend of hers, but I’m hopeless, Scott! Completely hopeless.”

Scott gives him a look, “Are you sure you’re not stalking her?”

“In a broad sense of the term,” Stiles shrugs, “I’ve never felt this comfortable around a girl before. I’ve never felt this way about any girl.”

“You’ve got it bad,” Scott sighs, “I know the feeling well.”

~~~

You walk through the aisles of computers to sit near the back beside a hunched figure. He keeps his head down even as you watch his eyes dart to see who you are. If anything it makes him more shy, his shoulders drawing in as if he were trying to make himself as small as possible.

You sling your backpack onto the ground and ignore the random text Stiles sent you about the history of the male circumcision. He was always sending you the most out-of-pocket things.

“Hey,” you smile at the quiet boy, “My name’s (Y/N)…” He turns his head a little more and you instantly recognize him as one of the benchwarmers on the lacrosse team, “… and you’re Isaac, right?”

His blue eyes seem to warm at your recognition, “Yeah, Isaac Lahey,” he clears his throat, “I uh…”

“You play lacrosse!” your smile widens, “I didn’t realize we had computer science together.”

“Play is a strong word,” he says with a hint of a smile. “I sort of keep to myself.”

You lean on your elbow, considering him as he fidgets under your gaze. “I think the last time we talked was when I was passing out permission slips for that spring retreat Coach was talking about.”

Isaac nods his head, still bowing like he was trying to hide behind his computer screen. “I don’t talk much.”

“You didn’t bring back your permission slip if I remember correctly.”

“No,” he clears his throat again, finding it hard to swallow. “My dad needs me to stay home.”

“Even for just a weekend?” your brows knit.

He licks his lips, “He needs help at work and… I’m the only one around to do it.”

“Shame,” you mutter, “I’d like to have seen you there. Maybe we could’ve roasted marshmallows together and tossed Coach’s whistle in the lake.”

His lips upturn a little more, “You’re going on the retreat?”

“I don’t think the Coach can survive without me,” you stifle a laugh, “Besides I’m the only one who knows anything about the retreat. He probably couldn’t drive a single one of you up there.” You nudge your arm into his, “You should ask your dad again, see if he’ll change his mind.”

Isaac has an emotion you can’t gauge flash across his eyes. “Maybe.” He nods and hides that smile you’re trying to pull out of him. “I wouldn’t mind messing with Coach, though.”

“We could hide his energy drinks or put dye in his toothpaste,” you muse, “Make his teeth blue for a day.”

“Or we could put a squirrel in his cabin,” Isaac says with a little more enthusiasm, “Or maybe we could hide his shaving kit and see what kind of beard he can grow.”

You snort, “I bet it’s as white as an old mans.”

“It’s because all us kids give him gray hairs,” Isaac laughs, smiling wide.

You laugh along, suddenly struck with his change of demeanor. “You have a great smile, Isaac,” you say, “It looks good on you.”

A rush of red fills his cheeks, unable to stop smiling now. He isn’t hunched behind his computer anymore, “Thank you.”

The teacher was about ready to throttle you two for giggling over her talking. You nudge Isaac again with your arm, putting a finger to your lips.

~~~

The next day you’re being dropped off at the Argent residence for a ‘family dinner.’ Allison has been complaining about how often her dad talks about meeting you. It was odd not having met them – almost every parent in town knew who you were.

That was the consequence of a small town with two working parents in the emergency fields. Most adults knew that they had to leave at the drop of a dime if your heart was ever in trouble.

Hence the anxiety making your fingers pull on your sleeves.

“(Y/N)!” Allison greets, pulling you into a hug, “I’m so sorry for this,” she whispers.

You whisper back, “Don’t be.” But a flash of fear crosses your face when the door widens to reveal a blue-eyed, middle-aged man. “Mr. Argent?”

“(Y/N),” he extends a hand, eyes never blinking as he probes you, “We finally meet.” He shakes your hand firmly, “My wife and daughter have only had good things to say.”

And my friends have told me about your penchant for shooting arrows at teenage boys. “Nice to meet you.” You follow the family inside and to the dining room. “I hope you don’t mind…”

In your free hand was a small container of peanut butter brownies you had made earlier that day. Chris Argent looks pleased when he inspects the contents, “How wonderful – you didn’t have to.”

“I know,” you say, handing the dessert to Allison to plate. The Argents were able to provide for themselves, plus extra.

Living on the other side of town, the Argent residence was much more lavish than what you were used to. It created a very unfortunate divide between the teenagers. An invisible line that was rarely mentioned, but nonetheless present.

Over in these neighborhoods, Lydia, Allison, and Jackson lived with rich crown moldings, nice cars, high ceilings, and antique furniture. More in the valley, you, Stiles, and Scott lived in modest homes with hand-me-down items and a small growing pile of bills.

With one check you bet the Argents could take away your family’s medical debt.

“Your home is lovely as always,” you say, admiring the chandelier in the dining room. “And dinner smells amazing.”

“Not my doing,” a dirty blonde says with a crisp laugh. A near forced laugh as her less piercing blue eyes meet yours. She assesses you with something a little colder than Chris. “Hello, I’m Kate, and I have no talent for cooking.”

You give a wave across the table, instantly wary of her. Allison pops up beside you, “That’s my aunt I told you about.” She looks to Kate as she sits, “(Y/N) is an amazing cook.”

Kate nods, still scrutinizing you with her gaze. “What else are you good at, (Y/N)?”

“Reading,” you say instantly, sharing a laugh with Allison. “I keep to myself mostly.”

With the table set, the Argent family sits to enjoy the meal. Victoria Argent, whom you’ve met the few times you’ve been out with Allison, sat with her husband.

“So, (Y/N), tell us a little more about yourself,” Chris says, spearing asparagus with his fork. “You’re close with our daughter but we know almost nothing about you.”

You try to swallow your roast chicken quickly as Allison scolds her father. “I told you not to interrogate her,” she leans closer to you, “He doesn’t really have a ‘pleasant conversation’ option in his vernacular.”

“It’s alright,” you say with a wave, grabbing a nice cloth napkin to dab at your mouth. “My parents like to know who I’m friends with too.”

“You know Scott and Jackson, correct?” Kate digs into her chicken with a knife.

“Yes, we’re all friends. I also am a teacher assistant for Coach Finstock, so I see them at lacrosse a lot.”

Chris considers you, “But you weren’t at the last lacrosse game?”

“No, I work at the hospital as a medical assistant and I picked up a shift that night,” you take a sip of your water. How much information was too much information to give?

Kate tilts her head in your direction, “Wasn’t there a break-in at the hospital that night?”

You nod slowly, “Yeah, someone got into an altercation past visiting hours. I don’t know who but when I went to investigate the noise, there was a lot of broken glass and cracks in the walls. Thank goodness none of the patients were harmed.”

Chris takes his time cutting his meal into pieces, “That sounds terrible. What did you do?”

“I called the police, checked on my residents, and ran outside to meet the cops.” You take a small bite of food, “They didn’t find anything besides the damage.”

“Cameras?” Kate questions.

You shake your head, “My co-workers said that they had been damaged as well. Wiped clean or lost… I don’t know exactly.”

Chris seems satisfied for the time being, “Well, I’m glad you got out safely, whatever it was.”

Kate, on the other hand, seems to perk with interest, “I hear you’ve had a run-in with danger a couple times this year.” At your look of confusion, she nods toward your collar. “The attack on the video store, I mean.” She barely moves a centimeter as she stares you down, “Allison told me you had gotten clawed pretty bad.”

You spot the wince in Allison’s brow. “I did get attacked that night,” you wipe at your mouth again. “It was pretty bad for a while, infected and everything. But I’m okay now.”

Kate was persistent, “Must have left a pretty gnarly scar.” Her eyebrows lift as if expecting you to reveal your shoulder. She was scolded by her niece.

“It’s still a little pink, but that’ll go away with time,” you say as nonchalantly as possible. “I’d say it makes me look a little cooler than I am.” You shift the collar of your shirt an inch to reveal the tail end of three massive claw marks, another curling around your arm. It was your turn to gauge the reaction of the Argents.

Chris and Kate share a look and you clear your throat in response. Are you making yourself a possible werewolf suspect?

“And what do you guys do for work?” you say, steering the conversation off yourself. “Allison says that you’re a weapons dealer?”

Chris pours himself more water, “That’s right. We have quite the collection if you’re interested.”

You shake your head quickly, “I’m not really built for that. I enjoy my books and my lazy cat sleeping in my lap as I read.”

He nods, hopefully in a sign of respect. “That’s why Kate is here. She deals in weaponry as well – a very skilled hunter.”

She raises her glass, “The art of the kill. I needed my brother’s expertise on a few pieces for my latest hunt.”

“What do you hunt?” you say innocently.

“Big game predators,” she says, cold eyes locked on you. “Cougars, bears, wolves.”

You almost smirk. These people are hiding in plain sight.

“My mom is a buyer for a store in San Fransico,” Allison steers the conversation even more. “Right, mom?”

Victoria, already done with her meal and leaning back in her chair, replies, “Yes, it’s a charming little boutique. I also teach math at a boarding school for boys on the side.”

You nod, “Why math?”

“Strategy,” she says flatly. “Equations and probabilities. I enjoy the art of stratagem.”

That was slightly off putting as well. Did these people know how to be subtle? How had Allison gone this long without knowing her family history?

“And your parents are…?” Victoria continues.

You smile, “My mom works behind the desk at the police station – taking and directing calls. My dad works at the firehouse.”

“You must hear everything that goes on around here,” Chris smirks.

“Only when I ask,” you say, “And that’s considering nothing wild has happened in Beacon Hills for years…”

Kate leans back in her chair as well, crossing her arms in contemplation. “Have you lived here your whole life?”

“Yes,” you say, pushing your plate away, “Almost since birth.”

“Where did you live before?” Chris asks.

He might be intimidating, but you enjoy talking to him much more than Kate. “My parents lived in Palo Alto when I was born. We had a nice house and my mom worked security at Stanford University. My dad actually met her at the San Francisco Bay. He was a lifeguard before he was a firefighter, and he watched the swimmers at Keller Beach and Berkeley Marina.” You smile a sweet smile, “She kept coming back to those places to see him… even pretended to drown once for a kiss.”

“Must be a fan of The Sandlot,” Allison snickers, enjoying hearing you talk more than her family.

 “So why make the move to Beacon Hills?” Kate asks, arms still tightly wound.

Your smile falls a little, “I was born with a congenital heart defect. The medical bills and surgeries became too much… and we had to downgrade.”

Allison puts a hand on your leg beneath the table. Chris sends a piercing look to his sister and mutters, “I’m sorry, (Y/N) – I didn’t know you were sick.”

“Still am,” you say with mock cheerfulness, holding your water glass with two hands to give yourself something to focus on. “Heart problems are persistent. We try to keep it as discreet as possible.”

He nods, looking at you with a different air of likeness. “It sounds like you have a wonderful family.”

“I do,” you say fast, “Thank you.”

They move on to the brownies you brought as a means to change the subject. Victoria hums her appreciation, “These are delicious, did you put caramel in here too?”

“Caramel is one of the greatest inventions of all time and deserves to be incorporated into as many sweets as possible,” you laugh, “Of course I put caramel in them.”

The table laughs as you eat, feeling a little stripped bare after revealing so much about yourself. As Allison said, it did feel more like an interrogation rather than a pleasant family meal. You were quick to text the boys as you leave the residence.

“My place in ten minutes. I have an Argent update.” You smile as you add, “… and leftover brownies.”

Allison was kind enough to drive you home, apologizing the entire way. “My dad wasn’t as brazen as usual, but my aunt Kate?” she rolls her eyes, “I can’t believe how much she was grilling you.”

“You have a protective family,” you shrug, “So do I.”

“Your parents have a good reason to be extra protective of you,” she retorts, “My family is just nosy and suspicious and… I don’t know, my aunt and dad have been a little tense with each other this visit. They usually get along so well.”

“How much longer is your aunt staying here?” you ask, holding your container of leftover brownies.

Allison knits her brow in thought, “I’m not sure. She says she’s getting ready for another big hunt and just needs supplies and my dad’s advice. But I don’t know… sometimes I feel like she isn’t telling me everything.”

You thank Allison for the ride and the invitation to dinner. You promise to give her an update on your date with Andrew that weekend, and she drives off. Entering your house was a breath of fresh air.

Oliver trots to your side, his furry underbelly swaying side to side before you scoop him up and kiss his head. He purrs instantly.

“How was dinner?” your mom asks, sitting at the dining table with little potted plants in front of her. She was trying to grow herbs from seeds and the lavender was not doing so well.

“It was fine,” you kick off your shoes, “Her family is a little interrogative.”

Tom walks in with his usual cola, no doubt with a few ounces of whiskey poured in. “I knew they were a little tense, especially after that Chris guy shot the mountain lion at parent teacher conferences.”

You scratch under Ollie’s chin, “It was still nice, but I would watch out for that Kate Argent. She scares me a little.” You sit at the table and watch your mom preen the little sprouts of eucalyptus and rosemary. “Oh, I also invited Scott and Stiles over, if that’s okay.”

Tom folds his arms, making them look massive beneath his firehouse flannel. “I thought you liked that Andrew guy.”

“I can like a guy and be friends with other guys, dad,” you snicker, “I’m just going to take my medicine real quick, will you send them up when they get here?”

Your mom waves you off, adding some water to her seedlings, “Leave me one of those brownies, would you?”

A minute later, and having taken all your prescription meds, there’s a howling laugh coming from downstairs. You move to the foot of the stairs to see Stiles beaming and your dad wiping his eyes.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Tom says, “Stilinski here was just telling me about a police fiasco with a red tricycle and a klepto.”

You look puzzled as Stiles scratches at the back of his head, “Yeah, I might’ve stolen some already stolen items from evidence when I was a kid. I was the prime suspect for about three days with all the stuff in my possession.”

“And at five years old,” your dad laughs, downing his drink.

“I really wanted the tricycle!” Stiles retorts, “It was my first bike.”

Tom shakes his head, “Learning to pedal on stolen property.”

Scott pulls on his friend, “It was nice talking to you guys.”

“Of course, sweetie,” your mom says, “Now not too late, you still have school tomorrow.”

Walking up the stairs (Stiles tripping over at least two of the steps) you lead the boys into your room, Oliver already on your bed.

“Hey, buddy…” Stiles gets on his knees and crawls to the edge of the bed, “How’s the fuzz ball?”

Ollie perks his ears and blinks slowly at Stiles, bowing his head for a pet. Though upon Scott’s arrival, the cat sets his ears back and hisses.

“What the…” you mutter, watching your cat growl low in his throat and dart to leave the bedroom. “He’s never acted like that before.”

Scott looks guilty, “Well, I am part dog and… I did break into your house as a werewolf not too long ago.”

Your lips make a thin line, “Right. Cats and dogs don’t always get along.” You walk to your bed, flicking at Stiles’ head as you sit down, “Do you guys want a brownie? They’re leftover from my dinner with the Argents.”

Stiles’ greedy fingers dive for the plastic container while Scott shoves his hands in his pockets. “You had dinner at their house?”

You relay some of the conversation you had. The mysterious penchant for weapons and hunting big game predators. The interrogative questions on the hospital break-in and your involvement with Scott and Jackson. The request to see the claw marks on your shoulder.

“Do they think you might be the second beta too?” Scott asks with a tense line between his eyebrows. Stiles was too busy eating his third brownie.

“Maybe… do they think a scratch could turn you?”

“That’s what Derek said,” Scott swallows hard, “He told us a deep enough alpha scratch might give you the curse. The Argents might have the same theory.” He smacks his forehead, “Which is why they’re suspicious of Jackson. He has those claw marks in his neck from Derek.”

You frown, “And they don’t know they’re from Derek and not the Alpha.”

“But they do know your scars are from the Alpha,” Scott mutters worriedly, “I wouldn’t be surprised if they do a follow-up on you.”

“But after I told them about my heart condition, they seemed to back off. At least Chris did.”

You relay the conversation that you had about your parents meeting in Palo Alto and the move to Beacon Hills because of your heart. You remember the likeness Chris Argent had in his voice as he expressed his apologies for your sickness.

“If you’re sick then you couldn’t have the curse,” Scott mumbles, picking at his chin. “Werewolves heal really fast unless the wound is supernatural too.”

Stiles is licking his fingers when he suddenly blurts, “Do you think if you were a werewolf your heart would be cured?”

You shrug, finding the amount of brownie left on Stiles’ face amusing. “I don’t really want to find out. Anyway, I knew you guys would probably want to know.”

“Still not keen on all this werewolf business?” Stiles asks.

“I’m just trying to protect myself.” You sit on the bed, Stiles on the ground and leaning against the mattress. He’s looking up at you with his brown eyes, fizzing with warmth like cola and whiskey. “It’s not that I don’t want to investigate with you guys. I just worry what it’ll do to my heart.”

You laugh and point at your own face, “You’ve got chocolate all over your mouth.”

Stiles is quick to rub his mouth across his shirt sleeves, “Those brownies were just too damn good.” There was still a smudge at the corner of his lips.

“Maybe if you swallowed between bites…” you move your fingers to his face, lifting his chin to look up at you. He’s frozen as you move your thumb to the corner of his mouth and wipe down and under his bottom lip.

Eyes wide and imploring as they look up at you. He’s all sweet innocence and deeply adoring as you touch his mouth. The brown of his eyes was melting into the sticky sweet sap color, like warm honey in the sunlight.

You pull your hand away and suck the chocolate off the pad of your thumb, “… but thank you for the compliment. I’m not as much of a baker.”

Scott was trying to keep a smile off his face as his hand hovered near his crinkled nose. He was smelling something that was flying off Stiles like a firework set aflame. The poor boy was squirming in his spot on the ground, crossing his legs and keeping his hands over his lap.

“How was Allison?” Scott changes the subject.

You look up, now ignoring the sappy eyes gazing from below. “She was fine – maybe a little embarrassed about her family. It was strange knowing the motive behind her family’s questions but seeing none of it register with her.”

“I have a feeling she’ll find out soon enough.”

“Me too,” you stand, “For now she’s releasing a lot of her stress through archery and training with her aunt.”

Scott shivers, “Scary.”

You nod, walking to the door and hearing Stiles scramble to his feet. “I’ll see you guys at school tomorrow?”

Getting into the jeep was uncomfortable, Stiles pulling at his jeans. Scott was laughing at him before too long, “Dude, you should have seen your face. You really are hopeless.”

Stiles groans, slamming his forehead into the steering wheel, “She touched me and every thought just flew out of my head.”

“I could smell it off you,” Scott grimaces, “Just awful lovey-dovey sex hormones, even without the full moon I could smell it.”

Stiles sat straight, making the jeep wiggle side to side. He had a ruddy red mark on his forehead. “Did you smell anything from (Y/N)?”

Scott clamps his mouth shut before shaking his head. “I could hear her uneven heartbeat, but that’s nothing new.”

In a dramatic turn of events, Stiles slumps in his seat and puts the car in drive. “I need to figure out a way to tell her.”

“Tell her your feelings?” Scott gaps, “What about the possibility of utterly crushing humiliation? Not to mention ruining what friendships we still have.”

“Thanks for adding to the anxiety, Scott,” he grumbles, “I just… I can’t help thinking about how I am with her. I have never been able to just talk about my mom to anyone… but with her it’s easy. I’ve never brought a girl over to my house before… but with (Y/N) it was a no brainer. I’ve never been so equally terrified and comfortable with a girl. And with her heart…”

“You’re like an anchor for her,” Scott says quietly, all teasing aside. “You can calm her.”

Stiles puts one hand over his cropped hair, “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell her.”

“You know the difference between you and Andrew Wickstrom, Stiles?”

He snorts, “He’s maybe four inches taller than me, has perfect curly hair, and is way better at lacrosse than I am.”

“He asked (Y/N) out,” Scott says, “You just need to ask her out.”

~~~

Friday night was all excitement and butterflies as you walk around a strip mall with Andrew. The white fairy lights turn on when the sun sets, and you’re left walking on cobblestones and eating ice cream.

You were laughing at the ridiculous training regime that Coach was making the boys do in preparation for the state game.

“What is the benefit of running laps to the classroom and out to the field?”

“Coach makes us carry his stuff too and from his office,” Andrew mocks, “He makes it sound like an exercise, but really he just wants us to fetch his granola bars and energy drinks.”

You laugh again, “That sounds about right. How do you feel about the game?”

“Since switching to goalie it’s been hard figuring the plays out. But I think I’ve got the hang of it now.” He offers to throw away your empty ice cream cup and spoon.

The night so far had entailed a dinner at a little café outside the mall before looking in some of the stores for new summertime clothes. Andrew bought an outfit for you, shorts with little revealing tears in them and a strappy top that shows your scars way more than you’re used to.

You love that Andrew doesn’t question you about them.

Next was a stop at an ice cream parlor, taste testing different flavors before picking your favorites. The pair of you now walking around as the moon comes out, the trees adorned with white fairy lights.

You were walking so close to each other that you kept bumping arms. “Next time I want to show you my favorite antique shop downtown. It has some of the coolest things from every time period, and it’s connected to an old bookshop – one of the ones with tall ladders and a second floor just like in…”

“There’s going to be a next time?” Andrew says, sounding a little giddy. He was looking at you with pink dusting his cheeks.

You blush, “Is that alright?”

In reply, Andrew locks your fingers between his. “Very alright.” You stroll down the next street of cool fairy light, squeezing each other’s hands. “What were you saying about the old bookstore before I rudely interrupted you?”

You brush hair behind your ears, “Oh, just that it reminds me of the old bookstore from Beauty and the Beast… the one from her town.”

“You’re a fan of Disney?”

“Always,” you laugh, “With movies like The Princess and the Frog and The Emperor’s New Groove… how could you not be?”

Andrew snickers, “It’s because of Naveen, isn’t it?”

“Ah, Prince Naveen,” you groan, “You got me there.”

“Got to be honest though… Treasure Planet might be the best one yet.”

You pull on his arm, “I haven’t watched that in ages!”

Andrew side eyes you as his dimples come out, “So old antique shop and then movie night?”

You’re giddy at the thought of another date, “Sounds perfect.” You wander the streets just talking and laughing for another half hour before he offers to drive you home.

He holds your hand atop your lap the whole way.

Walking to your door, porchlight on as your parents wait for your return, you thank Andrew for a lovely evening.

“It’s nice after all the chaos the town’s been in the last month.”

He nods, “I had a really nice time with you, (Y/N).” He hands you the shopping bag with your new summer outfit, “I’ll text you a time for the next one.”

You smile wide as he takes a step closer, “I had fun too.” He was leaning down to your height, your chin rising to meet him.

In a quick mind-boggling moment, Andrew presses his lips to yours. He pulls away just an inch to see your reaction before moving further.

At your slight smile he leans in for more, kissing you more firmly and cupping your cheek. A sudden warmth blooms up your chest and into your face – and a beeping comes from your watch.

You break away suddenly, “God, sorry…” you cover the watch face with your hand. “Parents are waiting.”

Andrew licks his lips, all smiles as he says goodbye, “I’ll see you on Monday.”

You slip inside and find your mom pruning a more successful chamomile plant at the dining table, no doubt planning to make tea with it. “Hello, honey…” she smirks, “Had a nice time?”

Checking your watch, you take a deep breath, your chest tight from something a little more than your racing heart. “The best.”

You had no idea that Stiles was burrowed beneath his blankets in bed, his phone lighting up his face is somber blue light. He watches the alert of your heart rate die down and knows in his gut that you probably had an exciting goodnight kiss on your date.

It sticks him with an ache he can’t shake for the rest of the night.

~~~

The weekend came with an invitation from Stiles in the most untoward manner. You were working on term projects for history and math when there was a sharp rapping on the window. Turning around you see Stiles waving on the roof.

Already smiling, you go to unlock the window and help him open it, “What are you doing here?”

“I came to ask you something.”

“And your phone is…?”

He shrugs, “More of a boring gesture than this.”

“And not coming to the door…?”

He screws his face up in a comical expression, “Again, this is a more interesting entrance.” And with a graceful slip of the hand, he falls forward through the window and crashes to the ground, “Ow!”

You grimace, hearing the floorboards squeak in the hall, “Shit, Stiles my parents will kill me if they knew you were sneaking up our roof!” In a frantic waving of your hands you shove him under your bed.

He does his now famous doggy-paddling across the hardwood floor.

“(Y/N), sweetie?” your mom calls as she enters your bedroom, “Oh – what was that noise? I thought you must’ve fainted and fell.”

You put your hands behind your back, looking around and finding Ollie still snoozing on the history textbook on your desk. He was so unbothered and not at all helpful. “Um… I dropped my math workbook,” you say quickly, “It’s pretty thick.”

Your mom looks to your hands to see the workbook and raises her eyebrows in question.

Choking on your words you look around and find the evidence on your bed covers, “See! I just picked it up when you walked in.”

Angela shakes her head, “Studying must be getting to you. Maybe you should take a break.”

You nod vigorously and thank your mother, closing your door and finding Stiles already trying to pull himself out from under your bed. His tongue was sticking out as he struggles.

“That was close,” you laugh, sitting on the floor with him, “Who knew you’d be such mischief.”

Stiles snaps his eyes to yours and flounders in his words, “I… you – did you…”

Your knees are inches away as you give him a quizzical look, “What?”

“My m-, my mom used to call me mischief.” His voice was quiet and wondering as he says it. He looks at you with a kind of awe; a freckle of sadness making his eyes glassy.

You suddenly feel warm, maybe from embarrassment – maybe from empathy. You couldn’t imagine a life without your mother. “A very fitting name for someone so mischievous.”

He chuckles, his smile subconscious, “That’s not the only reason she called me that. Um… I uh – my name isn’t actually Stiles.”

“I knew it,” you smirk.

“I actually have a polish name – my grandpa’s name. And it’s really hard to pronounce, so I’d pretty much stop at saying mischief cause that was as close as I could get.”

You raise your eyebrows, all curiosity, “And this name is…?”

He looks shy as he mumbles, “Mieczyslaw.”

“Mitchy-slav?”

He becomes shier as he repeats, “Yeah, Mieczyslaw. You can imagine why a young impressionable child would choose to go by something a little easier.”

You look at him fondly, “I like it. I like learning things about you.” You stand, taking his hand to pull him up, “Now what was the thing you wanted to ask me?”

“I wanted to know if you’d come hangout at my place tonight and meet my dad.”

“I already know your dad, Stiles.”

“Yeah, on a professional basis,” he mocks, “But… but you’ve never seen him without the badge on.”

You agree to come over that night and say you’ll bring a treat, which immediately strikes interest in Stiles. You plan accordingly, cooking all Saturday evening and dishing it in traveling containers. Placing them in a large take-out bag, you drive with your dad to the Stilinski bachelor pad.

You hope your gesture is kindly met.

“(Y/N)!” Stiles says with as much enthusiasm as one seeing someone for the first time in weeks. He’s awkward as he thinks of another way to greet you and is grateful when you go in for a hug. “Something smells delicious.”

You lift the large bag, “I told you I’d bring something.”

He leads you to the kitchen and you see Noah Stilinski looking over case files at the dining table. He looks stressed and wary until he spots you in the doorway.

“Ah, hello (Y/N). It’s nice to see you outside of the station…” he stands up, “… and outside of an ambulance.”

You laugh, going in for a hug that he wasn’t expecting, but loving it nonetheless. He holds you for a second longer as you say, “It’s about time.” He smells of whiskey. You gesture to the food in your bag, “I brought us dinner.”

“Oh my god,” Noah deadpans, “You spoil us.” He frantically tries to shuffle his case files into an orderly fashion, “I’m sorry it’s such a mess.” He moves his full whiskey glass and goes to put the decanter away.

“It’s okay,” you start to help, catching words like ‘murder’ and ‘Hale House.’ Stiles ran for some plates and forks. “There’s not always warning when Stiles makes plans.” You wonder how drunk the sheriff already is – the case must really be getting to him.

Noah chuckles, “You really know my son, then.” He seems awkward without the authority of his badge – like any other suburban dad. “He didn’t tell me you were bringing anything. Wait… did you cook that?” he points to your bag of containers.

“Yeah,” you say, helping Stiles set the table, “My specialty.”

Noah shakes his head, “I haven’t had a homecooked meal in…”

“Years,” Stiles snorts, “(Y/N) is the real deal, dad. Whatever she made will change your life.”

“He eats some chicken and rice and suddenly I’m a three-star Michelin chef.”

Stiles chortles, “Don’t forget those brownies. I’ll never be the same.”

You laugh as the boys sit down and you reveal the dinner you brought. A bowl of spicy Italian sausage, a plate of sliced garlic bread, and a dish of homemade mac and cheese topped with chopped parsley and green onion.

It was very quiet for the first few minutes, you placing a slice of garlic bread on each plate and ladling the cheesy noodles on top like an open-faced slider. You end with placing a few pieces of sausage on the side and passing the plates to the boys.

Stiles still can’t find the words as his dad says, “Did um…” he clears his throat. “Did Stiles tell you…”

You nod, feeling a presence there like nothing you had ever experienced before. “He said it was one of her signature dishes – a favorite of his.” You look to Stiles beside you and notice something glistening in his eyes.

You let them soak in the thoughtfulness of the gesture – what it actually signifies for them – and you start to eat on your own. Though it didn’t bring up any childhood memories of motherly love that it would for Stiles… it was still delicious.

“You’re right,” you say softly, “Like a fancy kids meal.”

Noah starts to chuckle, sniffing as he clears the emotion from his throat. He’s next to start eating his meal and the way he savors each bite is compliment enough. You wait for Stiles to start, very conscious of his quietness.

Stiles was never quiet.

He picks up the garlic bread laden with mac and cheese and takes a bite. He giggles like a schoolboy, “Wow.” He closes his eyes and you feel inclined to put your hand on his. Beneath the table, you wrap your fingers around his against his leg.

You rub your thumb in circles around his knuckles, watching him open his eyes and see tears there. “How is it?”

He sniffs, looking at you with wet eyes, “Like I remember.” He wipes at his face as you smile.

The rest of the meal continues with small talk and fond memories bringing up laughter. The sheriff finishes his whiskey and seems full and tired. Stiles keeps eating until there were no leftovers in sight.

He was now staring at the files of paperwork on the current Derek Hale case. You catch his eye and stand to wash dishes, “You finished, sheriff?”

“Oh no, I’ve got it,” Stiles slips out of his chair and takes the plates from your hands, “You just sit down, I’ll clean up.”

You smile to yourself as the sheriff looks more work wary, leaning on his hand and rubbing at his temples. “You bring out the best in him,” he says quietly, “I’m not sure I’ve ever seen him willingly wash a dish before.”

“He’s sweet,” you say. Realizing too late that that was another thing Mrs. Stilinski used to say all the time.

Noah nods, a little red in the cheeks from the alcohol, “He is. She always said so.”

You had a feeling the sheriff didn’t talk about his wife very much. “You seem a little put out.”

“It’s just this case,” he rubs hard at his face, “I’ve been staring at it for weeks and I know they’re all connected, but there’s something missing.”

“What are all connected?” you ask.

He points a finger at you, “I shouldn’t be telling you.”

“You know I’m not going to say anything, sheriff,” you say candidly, “I’m a hermit that makes very good mac and cheese in my spare time.”

He chuckles deep in his throat, quieter the drunker he is. “The thing is… the bus driver that got killed, he was an insurance investigator assigned to the Hale house fire.” He pulls on a paper with his fingertips, sliding it across the table.

You read it sideways as it moves. “’Terminated under suspicion of fraud.’”

“The video store clerk who got his throat slashed, he’s a convicted felon, history of arson. Two others in the woods… they had priors all over their records, including…”

“Arson…” you say to yourself. The true crime fan within you was a little tickled. It sounds like all the victims had something to do with the house fire six years ago. You look over your shoulder to see Stiles standing in the doorway. He had soapy water soaking the front of his shirt.

He puts a finger to his lips and listens.

“There’s just so many questions…” You don’t stop him for fear that he’ll register all that he’s telling you. “If Derek wanted to kill everyone involved with the fire, then why start with his sister? I mean, she had nothing to do with it. And why make it look like some kind of animal did it?”

You shake your head. It must be killing Stiles to know the real reason behind some of these things and not being able to share. He was protecting his dad from the supernatural. Just like how he was trying to protect you from it.

“You know the instances of wild animal reports were up 70% over the past few months? It’s like they’re going crazy and running out of the woods. I don’t know.” He hand a palm to his forehead, already dozing off.

You feel a little guilty as you lean in your chair.

“Hey, sheriff, can I ask you a favor?”

“Anything, sweetheart…”

You smile warmly as Stiles leans his head against the archway. “Would you be willing to call my parents and tell them I’m staying the night? It’s late and I don’t want to worry them. Stiles and I have some work to catch up on… our chemistry project and stuff. Now would be a really good time to get it done.”

The sheriff had a dopey smile on his face as he looks at you. He considers you while Stiles is having a heart attack in the kitchen.

“Sure thing,” he says, fumbling for his phone, “I know your parents worry about you.”

“It’ll sound better coming from you,” you say kindly, “Thank you, sheriff. And thank you for letting me stay.”

He scratches at his head as you stand, already dialing your mom’s number, “Hey, Angela. No, no – she’s fine. We’re taking good care of her… hey, listen. The kids want to work on some projects, and I wanted to offer to let her stay the night.” He rubs at his tired eyes, “Sure, sure… of course. It’s just late and I know Tom is at the firehouse tonight so… yeah, sure thing. We’ve got plenty of room. Yep, thanks Angela. Sure, bye bye.”

You’re walking towards Stiles with a stupid grin on your face, “Let’s go talk.”

“Night dad!” Stiles yells instantly, still in awe that you were able to pull that off.

Noah waves them off, “Don’t stay up too late.”

You pull Stiles’ hand and go upstairs. “I can’t believe that worked.” You find the bathroom but wait for Stiles to show you his room.

“Um… one second,” he holds up a finger and tells you to stay put. He rummages like a madman in his bedroom, knocking things over and slamming things shut. You picture mounds of clothes and old plates of food being shoved into the closet.

He’s breathing heavy when he opens the door again, “Okay, you can come in.” He holds open the door and you walk in to find a queen bed with ruffled blue sheets, a desk on the other side with bulletin boards hanging on the wall. One of the smaller ones had a blanket thrown over it.

You wonder how much decluttering Stiles did because it was still very messy. Papers, sticky notes, and red string were everywhere. “Cozy.”

He looks nervous, playing with his fingers and watching your expression, “I don’t… ha…” he fidgets with his soapy shirt, “I’ve never had a girl in my room before.”

You take a bow, “I’m honored.” You sit on the edge of his bed, “What your dad is investigating…”

“Derek… I know,” he sits at his desk chair. “He’s so close to figuring it all out. He just doesn’t know about the Alpha.”

“Was it bad of me to egg him on while he’s so clearly drunk?”

“No, I would’ve done the same thing.”

“Exactly,” you deadpan, smiling. “If the Alpha is killing people responsible for the fire, then Derek siding with him at the hospital…”

“… is probably because he wants people to pay for the fire as well.”

You rub your legs down to your knees, “And the Alpha just wants to become powerful again in his revenge.”

Stiles was tapping his fingers against the desk, “So was there any other reason why you wanted to stay the night? Because I know for a fact you already finished our chemistry project and it’s incubating in the lab right now.”

“Well, there have been a couple things I wanted to talk to you about.” You sit cross legged on the mattress and say, “Coach has been talking to me about Scott failing his classes.”

“Big surprise,” Stiles scoffs, “The guy thinks he can be some werewolf savior and graduate high school at the same time.”

You wince, “Finstock made a deal with the office. Scott can’t go to the winter formal.”

“Because he’s failing?” Stiles gawks.

“They wanted to kick him off the team, but Coach said… some strange things… and made the dance agreement.” You tilt your head to the side, “Are you still planning on going?”

Stiles spins around in his chair, fumbling over his words, “Um, er – yeah, technically. I was s-still planning on it. Why… might I ask?”

You sigh, “Allison will need someone to ask her out.”

He was caught off guard, “I’m sorry, what? Me ask Allison to the dance.”

“It makes sense!” you say, “With Scott’s savior complex he’s going to want everyone under supervision in case the Alpha decides to take us out one at a time.”

There was a hesitance in the way Stiles kept spinning around in the chair. He seems grumpy, “Why can’t Jackson ask her?”

“You don’t want to go with Allison?’

“Well, I…” he was biting his lips, “I don’t know. Are you going?”

“I think Andrew is going to ask me on our next date.”

Stiles bangs a foot against the desk and nearly slips out of the chair, “A second date? Already?”

You smile, going a little red, “We had a good time and… we may or may not have kissed.”

A horrible sinking feeling enters Stiles’ stomach. His heart clenches painfully and the sudden desire to hurt Wickstrom came on hard and fast. “And… you liked it.”

“It was a nice change of pace from my usual,” you try to hide your smile, “I haven’t been kissed in a while.”

Stiles waves his hands around, “Woah, woah, woah… you’ve been kissed before? I thought you were a hermit that made mac and cheese.”

“And I have the occasional neighbor boy kiss me,” you laugh, “There was Easton from down the street when I was thirteen and then Adam who was visiting from San Fransico over the summer when I was fifteen. Not to mention, nimrod, that Scott kissed me just the other week.”

“Oh my god,” he wipes a hand across his face, “How do you do that?”

“What?”

“Get people to kiss you?”

You squint your eyes, folding your arms, “Are you telling me you’ve never been kissed?”

Stiles squirms in his chair, swinging it back and forth. “Maybe.”

“Ah, Stiles!” you bounce on his bed, “That’s so sweet.”

He groans, “Don’t tell me it’s sweet. It freaking sucks. All of my friends are getting their jollies off and I am left here in the dust with the driest lips this side of the valley.” His arms hang limp at his sides, “Is it nice?”

You giggle, “It can be. I think it only ever is when you kiss someone you like. It’s just… god, it’s hard to explain.” But Stiles was leaning in like the most attentive student. “There’s something really vulnerable about it, which leaves you wide open to feel anything and everything. You’re scared to death of course, especially with someone you like. But the bliss you feel after doing it is like nothing else.”

Stiles purses his lips, “Is that how the Andrew kiss went?”

“Almost.”

That raises his eyebrows, “I thought you really liked him.”

“I do, but I kind of have this new rule since the summer with Adam from San Fransico,” you hold up a hand, “I can’t date seriously. I can’t get too involved with any guy. So I’ll have to tell Andrew to stop eventually if this keeps going well.”

Stiles frowns, a punch to the gut, “Why can’t you date seriously?”

“Personal choice.”

“Because of what?” You smile and he groans, “Let me guess, it’s another story for another day.”

You use a finger gun on him, “Precisely, you’re catching on.” But the smile starts to dip from your face as you look at him. You lick your lips and say, “How about this. If you don’t have your first kiss by junior year… I’ll kiss you.”

The chair creaks as Stiles nearly falls from it, feet kicking out, “What!?”

“I’ll kiss you. We’ll make a kiss pact. I don’t want you getting too far into high school without having been kissed. The first one is always nerve-wracking anyway. It probably won’t be as meaningful as getting surprised with it by someone you really like, but it might be the next best thing.”

Stiles was losing his marbles, little fireworks exploding behind his eyes and falling like sparklers into his chest. “Okay.”

You smile at his goofy expression, “Now, can I borrow those sweats again? And maybe a t-shirt?”

He was still looking at you with sparklers in his eyes, “Huh? Oh yeah, sure.” He went to rummage through his dresser.

A few minutes later you were both in pajamas, having taken turns to use the bathroom to brush your teeth – you just using toothpaste and your finger – and standing in Stiles’ bedroom. You had dark sweats and an oversized shirt. With how broad Stiles’ shoulders were, the shirt hung low on your frame.

His throat was bobbing when he saw you standing there, pillows and blankets on the ground. “You good?”

You yawn, “Yep.” You meet him at the makeshift nest on the ground and nudge him, “Move please.”

“Oh, no this is for me,” he says, “You get the bed.” Standing so close to each other, you have to look up at him.

“I’m the guest, Stiles. You use your bed and I’ll count the dust bunnies under the bed.” You smile at the deep frown on his face.

He shakes his head, “Not gonna happen.”

“Fine,” you say, crawling onto his bed, “We can share.”

He chokes on his spit and starts coughing, “Share the bed?”

“Is that okay?” you look at him innocently.

That look combined with you wearing his clothes was sending him over the edge. His stomach was full of butterflies tickling the tightness in his ribcage. He wasn’t sure what to do with himself. In one night he had a girl in his room, said girl promised to kiss him, and now wanted to share a bed with him.

“Um… I kind of sleep in the middle of the mattress. I don’t want you to wake up to me invading your personal space.”

You laugh, “That’s fine, I can just shove you away.”

He nods, but is lost for words, going to turn off the light while you get comfortable. He’s back in the darkness and hesitates, “Are you su…”

“Get in the bed, Stilinski,” you mumble, already buried in his woodsy honey scented sheets. You feel the mattress dip as he finds his pillow. His knee knocks into your leg, and he apologizes. He shuffles down further and pulls up the blanket, rubbing his arm against yours, and he apologizes again.

“It’s fine, Stiles,” you laugh, “We’re bound to touch being this close.”

He swallows hard, staring at the ceiling as you cuddle further into your pillow, blanket tucked under your chin. “Goodnight,” you mumble.

Stiles bites the inside of his cheek, “Goodnight, (Y/N).” In the dark of his bedroom and the warm, calm presence of you beside him, it gave him a sense of ease. He takes a deep breath and says, “Thank you for the dinner today. It… meant a lot.”

You hum in reply, “You’re welcome.”

The last thing he remembers is turning on his side to face you already asleep. Your mouth was a little open and the pillow was squashing your cheek. Your hair was wild behind you and the shirt you borrowed was low enough that he could see the scar above your heart. You look more beautiful than ever laying there.

He wanted to know what you were holding back. He wanted to know what he had to do to give you the same feelings he was having.

And with thoughts of you looking beautiful in his bed, he fell asleep too.

~~~

Hours later you wake groggily to a still dark room. Stiles was standing and pulling his shoes on, phone in his hand. You groan and shift the covers closer to your body.

“Where are you going?” you ask half-asleep.

Stiles freezes at your words, “Uh… werewolf business. You can just stay here…” he walks over to your nearly asleep figure, “I’ll come back later.”

You don’t reply and he thinks you’re already back to sleep. It makes him smile. He bends down to tuck the covers a little tighter around you and… he hesitates, looking at your face. He swallows hard and leans down to place a kiss to your head.

“Sweet dreams.”

~~~

Taglist: @assassinsasha23 @tasty-book-fans @lovelybaka @the-fandom-queen @runs-with-sciss0rs @iamaslytherin0 @n3muru @bethsvrse @taylorbrooke-0912 @iloveyou2mia @everrrsincenewyork @gisellesprettylies

[ms-demeanor]

sorry if you've answered this before, and i hope you don't mind me asking, how do you know so much about computers and what seems to me like everything in the world? how did you become so knowledgeable? it's amazing

i just know a little about a lot of things and I probably have a fair number of things that I've dug into more than most people and less than people who actually focus on that stuff! It's kind of an illusion!

I do know a lot about computers and that's because I've worked at a computer company for 12 years and have been deep into a computery subculture for about 20 years - I do genuinely know a lot about consumer computers. That I'll own and that's experience.

I know a fair amount about literature because I've got a degree in it!

I know a fair amount about journalism because I've got most of a degree in it and I worked with journalists for a long time!

I know a fair amount about nutrition because I've got most of a degree in it and because I've been focused on reading a lot about nutrition for more than a decade because of my own food issues!

But mostly I'm just someone who falls down rabbitholes and has a decent ability to recall what I find when I run down them.

Also I get curious about things and will just go. Experience them.

Like at some point i came across a site for people who own and use RealDolls and I got interested in learning more. The site required an application because they didn't want people just trolling so I applied and I ended up reading through the whole site and reading the magazines they sent out for years after because it was just interesting. The way these guys bought clothes or compared repair techniques and cleaning techniques, the way they constructed identities for their dolls - it was all interesting! So now I know about the proper way to store a RealDoll and how their skeletons are put together and the best way to prevent rips or clean inserts.

Now imagine that with everything.

I got interested in quack medicine so I ended up reading the entire back catalogs of quackwatch and science-based medicine.

I got interested in the history of aspartame as a scare-word and I ended up reading a couple of books, SEVERAL entire blogs with decades-long runs, purchasing a military magazine from the 90s, and submitting a FOIA request.

But, like. I don't own a RealDoll or work in that industry. I am not a medical professional. I am not a chemist who works with aspartame. So I get these weird little collections of information where I know what *seems* like a lot to someone who hasn't looked into it but I know a lot less than someone who has taken the time to actually dedicate themselves to that topic.

And sometimes it's a years-long dive and sometimes it's a months-long dive and sometimes it's a few hours of me digging online until I feel satisfied with what I've learned and I never come back to it, but I've got three more talking points than your average joe at a party would.

(Also though I've attended various colleges at various levels for ten-ish years now and I've taken probably more college-level classes on a lot of subjects than most people have because I've now spent several years just kind of kicking around at community colleges and deciding that a cartooning class sounds fun or that a mesoamerican art class fills certain transfer requirements or that I might as well brush up on spanish, french, and german. Access to low-cost college classes in california is a big part of this, and having the time and money to take classes while i'm working is something that I've been very lucky with)

I've also worked pretty much continuously since I was 18, sometimes holding multiple jobs at once, and I know a lot of interesting people who do a lot of interesting things and I ask them about their interesting experiences and if they offer me a chance to go do cool shit with them, like launch a high altitude balloon or blow up some dynamite that's about to expire or join a band, I do it!

I was also one of those kids who had no friends and spent too much time at the library so I'd do things like read through medical textbooks or pull a book of home chemical formulas out of the trash and read it or take it into my head that I was going to read all of Shakespeare before I got to high school so I was a really annoying twelve-year-old and that kind of thing never really let up.

I don't know! I don't think it's that unusual and I think most people do this kind of thing I just happen to have less focus than a lot of people and talk a lot more.

[faeriekit]

Frozen Out

Another phic phight fill, another day; this one's for @akela-nakamura. No one is allowed to say anything about my need for Far Frozen fics.

(Sister fics are Snow Day and Snowdrift Sanctuary)

Breakfast comes, and breakfast goes. Frostbite cooked last night, so it’s leftover soup. 

There’s some kind of bird meat in it that Danny’s vaguely aware of, and a root vegetable that’s basically a hardy onion. The grain in it is a wild rice that’s virtually identical to the one in the human world, supposedly; Danny never had wild rice while he was eating at his parents’ house, though, so it’s new to him. 

It’s interesting how it cracks and breaks apart on his tongue. The food’s different here, but the Far Frozen has food that mostly matches human cuisine in far climates. Sure, it’s made of ghost birds and ghost vegetables and ghost grains, but they’re at least recognizable as sea birds, vegetation, and grain. It’s not weird for him to eat food that looked like food. 

If Danny had moved in with Princess Dorathea the way she’d offered, he’d be eating ghosts that looked like people. 

Yeah. This is better. 

Danny likes his soup. It’s reheated on the stovetop so that it’s warm. 

His bowl goes beside the door— he’ll scrape the dishes in the snow later— and goes for his coat and boots. There’s gloves that Neuschnee, Tundra’s mom,  knitted for him, on tiny needles that would have been hard for him to manipulate even without her huge clawed hands. 

They’re very warm. They have little green and blue stripes and little blue snowflakes spun on yeti-fur yarn. He likes them a lot. 

Danny leaves the warm interior of the cave, takes a big breath, and wanders out towards the center of the settlement. 

There are lots of occupied caves in the Far Frozen. Some of them are constructed in ice, but many are formed from natural rock— or whatever passes as ‘natural’ in the Infinite Realms. Early history of yeti society is rocky; there’s apparently debate as to whether the yetis found the land while wandering the zone, whether the land spawned the people to occupy it as a deterrent against wanderers and interlopers, or whether they all came into being together. 

“Aren’t you immortal? Or, you know…long-lived? Long-dead?” Danny had asked, confused. “Weren’t you here the whole time?”

“Yes,” Frostbite had agreed easily. 

“So…shouldn’t you remember?” 

“There are theories about that as well,” Frostbite had pointed out, amused with Danny’s frustration. “As it is, we do not.” 

So. There’s that. 

That being said, Danny knows there’s a lot of history; Arctic can recite cycles of songs for five hundred seasons back, and he’s not over a hundred years old. 

Probably. 

Danny stops beside a snow drift and scratches his head through his thick hood. Is Arctic a hundred years old? 

…Anyway, Danny continues, trucking onwards, if he is, he has to adjust his worldview on teenage yetis. If he’s not, then that means that Danny’s right about part two of his plan, which includes the vague idea that a society of yetis with an advanced medical techniques and application probably has a library somewhere. 

Or. You know. So he hopes. Man, if they pass down the entirety of their medical knowledge through oral tradition, Danny’s going to be screwed. Either way, he’s just in time to wander into Pritla’s glacial alcove before they’re finished with their own breakfast— a fish, apparently, devoured by sharp teeth and a huge maw. 

“Morning,” Danny greets, because he’s polite that way. He knows Pritla knows he’s here. Everyone so far has made fun of how loudly he walks. 

“Good morning, Phantom,” Pritla greets back, blue tongue licking bits of fish out from between huge fangs. Danny’s human right now, but for some reason, using his human name is culturally weird to them. It must be less intuitive, or something. It’s not like they can’t recognize him either way. “Is there something you’re missing?”

“No, thank you.” Last time he was here, it was because Jazz had sent over his workbooks and worksheets with pencils and no sharpener. Once the tips had snapped, it had all been over. “Is there a library?” 

Pritla’s furry eyebrows rise up over their brow ridge. “Did you expect there not to be one?” 

Danny’s nose squishes. “No. I assumed there is one. I just don’t know where it would be.”

The yeti’s eyes roll up to the ceiling; honestly, Danny knows that they do hard work for Frostbite, but they’re kind of annoying. “Have you tried downstairs?” 

“...Downwhat,” says Danny. 

So. It turns out. Far Frozen goes down. 

Like, there’s a hole in the ice, and it goes down— down long steps carved straight out of the ice, into blue-glowing tunnels woven with streams of rock and salt. 

“...Huh,” Danny observes. “Down.”

“Indeed,” Prita rumbles. The yeti turns, their bulk and form imposing as they head back up the stairs. “Everything is etched into the walls; feel free to make any copies of the writings you find. The farther down you go, the newer the writing becomes.”

“Thank you!” Danny hollers back, finally feeling some sense of burgeoning accomplishment. He’s almost there; all he has to do is take something impressive down, and get it copied onto something portable. He has old blank scrap paper stuck into his pockets. This should be easy. He feels very confident in reading into the yetis’ written cultural knowledge…

…And then notices that it’s written in an entirely different syllabary. 

Right. Danny wants to bang his head on the ice wall. Universally spoken ghost language, entirely different societal interpretation. Shoot. 

Interpreting this will take him ages. 

Still, Danny settles in; there’s no rush. He wasn’t supposed to have lessons today, since Tundra caught a wheeze and now he’s being all whiny about it, so he has all the time until dinner to copy and to get some graphite rubbings off the wall. 

Danny pulls up one of the carved stools, sits his butt down, and writes. 

*

“Frostbite?” 

Frostbite looks down. Danny smashes his face into the yeti’s fur; it’s hardly even a blow to his guardian, and it’s apparently instinctual for cubs to do something similar anyway. So. It’s a very affectionate gesture, even if it feels like playing rough to Danny. 

And Danny gets petted by a giant yeti hand. There are many advantages to living in the Far Frozen. 

Frostbite rumbles something, but Danny can’t actually hear him through the fur. He pokes his head out to get a listen. 

“—Good day?” 

“Mmhmm.” It had been productive, anyway. “I saw the library.” 

“The hall of records?” Frostbites ask, his voice a gentle rumble. Danny leans into the sound. “Ambitious of you. Did you learn anything new?”

Danny had. So he talks about the loss of the rainy seasons for snowy ones and The Year That It Rained Upwards, and about drifting too far against the edge of the Infinite Realms until they smashed into another kingdom and were forced to fight. He talks about the process of washing starlight moss until it becomes food instead of vegetation, and he talks about what it says about birthing traditions, and what it means to be Never-borne in a people that had probably never once lived in the human world.

Or maybe they had? There were some theories downstairs that speculated that they were the ghosts of real Yetis. Danny hadn’t known what to think. He’d taken the notes down anyway, because…well…what if they are? What if they’re all that’s left of the human world’s yeti population: ectoplasmic imprints and non-living beings??  

Frostbite knows everything Danny tells him about. Obviously. He was there for almost everything, too. But he lets Danny ramble on in a way that his parents never had, letting Danny explain his own history to him with new eyes and new words. It’s cathartic. Danny clings to Frostbite’s fur as the yeti walks around their living space, skinning and deboning Sky Whale meat to add to tonight’s meal. An adolescent human really weighs nothing to him. It’s so funny. 

“I am glad to know that you are able to take advantage of the histories,” Frostbite rumbles. Danny preens. “What encouraged you to seek them out?” 

Danny goes quiet. 

Frostbite looks over his shoulder to look at Danny, but lets Danny resolve his silence on his own terms. 

“...I wanted to see. If.” Danny licks his lips. Frostbite hums, showing that he’s listening. “If…if there’s records of a real ghost society, with its own language and culture and everything…they’ve gotta listen, right?”

The round knife in Frostbite’s hand stills. 

“They always say that…that ghosts are just pretending, that there’s nothing to ghost consciousness, that there’s nothing to anyone’s existence in the afterlife. But there’s records.” Danny’s throat tightens. “There’s known history. There’s language and a syllabary and…and there’s political conflict and agriculture and advanced medical care and weather charts. That has to be enough proof. If I show it to them, then they should be able to see.”

The knife gets set down. Frostbite wipes his hands on a towel. Danny can’t see his face. 

“It’s gotta be enough,” Danny tries again. His throat hurts. His eyes itch. But he thinks he could be right. “So if I show it to them, and they see it, and they see how far back the knowledge goes, and how careful everyone is to take care of each other and how nice everyone is and how good, and…and…”

Frostbite’s hug is soft, and warm. It’s amazing, and it’s not his Dad’s. Danny’s Dad is never going to hug him again. 

Danny cries. 

“Oh, little one,” Frostbite hums, and his face looks just as pained as Danny feels. “Little Phantom, it’s not safe for you to return to them, even to drop off records. If they had wanted to know more of the Infinite Realms, they would have tried to search them. I do not think that they are willing to listen, and I am too afraid to risk your health to see if they would change their minds when confronted with evidence.” 

He sobs. “But, but,” Danny cries, his throat torn with emotion. The hug pins his arms so his sides, so he just ends up snotting into his guardian’s fur. “...But I need them.” 

“I know, little one.” 

“They loved me,” Danny cries, because he knows that it had been true— that, once upon a time, there had been a family made of Jazz, Danny, Mom, and Dad. “They… Frostbite, I miss them so bad!”

Frostbite’s arms tighten. He lowers himself to the ground, until Danny is in a nest of yeti fur and pain and devastation and little else. 

“I know, little one,” Frostbite says, because there’s no other reassurance he can give. 

“I won’t… They’ll never want to see me again!”

“...I am so sorry,” Frostbite murmurs, endlessly patient with him. His ears are pulled back, his eyes taut with stress. 

He can’t help it. He breaks down. 

Danny clings. He cries— long, and loud, because pretending that he had a home to go back to had only worked until it stopped. He wants to go home. He wants to pretend to be all-human again. 

He’ll never go home. He’ll never pretend to be all-human again. 

He’ll do his lessons and Jazz will ferry his schoolwork to and from Casper High but he’ll never live with her again— never do his homework on her bed, never watch Dr. Phil with her on the couch, never eat lazy breakfasts with her or spend nights wondering if she’d come home safe from her date. 

Sam and Tucker can visit, but they’ll never be able to stay; every trip will be stolen, surreptitious, since they don’t have a reason to be in his house anymore. No more Tucker and Sam gaming nights. No more trips to catch dinner together at the Nasty Burger.

No more Ops Center. No more house. 

No more of Danny’s bedroom. 

Because otherwise, Mom and Dad would know. And they would get him. 

Mom and Dad don’t love him anymore. And…that’s the end of it.

So Danny cries himself out. Wipes off his nose with his undershirt sleeve. Resolves to get over himself. It hurts, because everything hurts, but there’s still life to be lived, kind of. Probably. 

Presumably. 

He doesn’t let go of Frostbite, though, who doesn’t let go of him; so Danny ends up eating his rare Sky Whale stew on a furry throne made of guardian yeti, blearily shoving food in his mouth until his stomach stops cramping. 

Frostbite puts him back into his coat, one arm at a time. Frostbite carries him out of their cave, even though it’s usually time for a bright night’s nap after dinner. Whatever. Danny doesn't have the energy to ask what’s happening to him. 

In the end, though, Danny does recognize Tundra’s Mom’s glacial ice cavern, since no one else has such carefully carved walls. 

Frostbite doesn’t ask, and Neuschnee doesn’t disrupt; she sits, calm, carving a soapstone block, as Danny gets laid down on their woven carpet. 

Danny blinks. 

Frostbite goes, and comes back— and Neuschnee smiles wryly as Tundra gets placed down beside Danny, fast asleep and dreaming of cars. 

Danny’s never been in such a huge, furry cuddle pile before, but as Frostbite lays down, his huge shoulder pushing him into Tundra’s smaller form in a cascade of ghost dominoes…

It’s nice. 

Danny will never have back what he had, but he has this. 

…That can be enough. Right?

Danny doesn’t know the answer for sure, but he falls asleep still thinking about it, the scrape of knife on stone all that he can hear. 

…Sure. This can be enough for now. 

[flippinpancakes64]

heyy i love your works sm that i have the notifications active💕 this may sound like a weird request but as a student of classical languages i need to make it: can you please write about cullens with reader who can speak ancient greek and latin? thanks💕 sorry about my english but it’s not my first language

The Cullens with an S/O who speaks Classical Languages

Omg that is so sweet?!?!?? I didn't even know you could activate notifications for certain accounts thank you so much

And I did not add any dialogue of the languages in here because I can only speak English and Spanish and I know if I tried it would just be google translate garbage

Thank you for requesting and I hope you enjoy!

Edward:

He's a smart young lad

In the books and the movies he is fluent in Spanish and Portuguese

But the likelihood of him having taken a Greek or Latin course is very high

It's also stated that he has the most degrees so he probably has a language degree in there somewhere

All that to say that he loves speaking to you in those languages

With the Cullens' heightened hearing, there's not a lot of stuff you can hide in that house

But speaking a language that none of the others know is a pretty good way to keep secrets

He would also enjoy talking like that in school

I feel like he secretly enjoys the weird reputation that the Cullens have lol

Alice:

I was able to find that she has a degree in fashion and international business, but nothing on languages

But she's probably taken a couple of French classes

Other than that she doesn't know any other languages

So when she first hears you speak it, she doesn't even know what it is

After you explain that it's ancient Latin/Greek she is enthralled

She wants to know some words so she can understand what you're saying

She gets frustrated when she doesn't

"Wait, I didn't catch that. Talk slower."

"Hmm... no"

"Come ON!"

Jasper:

He has degrees in History and Philosophy

And again no mentions of language

He might've picked up on a couple Spanish phrases back in the day, and probably took some French

But again, nothing more than that

When he hears you speak, he falls in love again

He's not too interested in learning the language, unless you want to teach him

He thinks it sounds infinitely better coming out of your mouth

Rosalie:

She has degrees in electrical engineering, business, and astrophysics

And again no mention of a secondary language anywhere

She would think you sound beautiful though

She says it makes you sound like royalty

Likes to listen to you talk while she works on her car or does her schoolwork

Again, she's not too interested in learning the language

She just wants to hear you talk it

But at some point she picks up on a couple things and feels so proud of herself

Emmett:

No degrees and no languages

The dude is just here

He has major respect for anyone who can learn another language though

And when he finds out that his S/O knows multiple?

He's stoked

Mostly just because he wants to get back at Edward a little bit

He makes you teach him stupid phrases and insults so he can taunt Edward with them

In seriousness though he loves that his S/O is so smart

Esme:

Once again, no degrees and no languages listed

I guess she's just been hanging out

I feel like she would love hearing you speak such an old language

She'd go on some rant about how we're losing touch with older things as the years go by

She thinks your voice sounds so melodic

Also not interested in learning though

But she would find it fun to point at something and ask for the translation

Carlisle:

Obvs he has a medical degree but other than that there's nothing

But like

He's literally 400 years old and hung out with the Volturi for a while

He has to know a whole bunch of languages

He's the only one besides Edward who can speak with you

And he really enjoys it

It helps him feel closer to you

He feels so different from everybody else

He's the oldest by a lot, he's constantly surrounded by humans, he was the OG vegetarian

There's not a lot of people who he feels he can truly connect with

So having this in common makes him feel less like the odd one out

Also sidetrack but I just know his voice is so elegant when he speaks Latin

Vampire! Bella:

In the book it's stated that she wanted to get an english degree to become a teacher

So yeah no language stuff here

She's so curious though

And also frustrated

She wants the word-for-word translation of everything you say

Partially because she is actually curious as to what you're saying

And partially because she feels left out

She is shocked when she finds out though

She's always considered those languages to be dead (which they technically are I guess) and never thought she'd ever hear them

I think she gets a little confused on how you even know it

"Are you, like, secretly a time traveler?"

"No? The languages are just well documented."

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

aita for calling my roommate crazy?

I (28f) live with 2 other people, a former college roommate who I’m pretty close with (29f) and 2nd roommate (28nb) who we both met when we moved in together 2 years ago.

Let me start this out by saying, this isn’t a fandom aita, it’s going to sound a bit weird at first, but bear with me.

I have a medical condition (relevant later) which stopped most of my bones from maturing past puberty (growth plates closing, cartilage not hardening into bones, ect.), so my skeleton is basically stuck somewhere between 13-19, (I look about 17-19, but the last time I tried to buy hard cider, the cashier thought I was 14, so that’s how young I can look). I also have very pale skin (unrelated to my disorder, just a ginger), and (related to my disorder) lack some liver enzymes so I need eat meat or I get sick (the same reason why cats need to eat meat), I ended up in the ER when I lived with my vegan sister for a week and ate the same veggie diet as her.

Trouble is, Roommate 2 is really into conspiracy theories and other fringe stuff. Nothing alt-right or anything, just like, (for example) they fully bought into that Mermaids: the body found show, and wouldn’t be dissuaded, even when Roommate 1 googled it and showed them solid proof that it was fictional. Wholeheartedly believes the US government preformed 9/11, does alternative medicine (homeopathy, ect), wishes there were ‘all natural’ vaccines (still isn’t an anti-vaccer though, just needs to be persuaded that Bill Gates didn’t put microchips in them).

Anyway, Roommate 1 and I have a recurring joke that I’m a vampire because of the meat thing and the pale thing and the not aging thing. Roommate 2 overheard us and laughed, but weirdly. She kinda joked along with us, but she seemed...odd. About a week later, they start asking me stuff about being a vampire. But they seemed friendly and not nervous then and I was hoping they were just joking and I also sincerely thought they were just asking me about how vampires work on one of my shows (I’m a big fan of Carmilla and the Originals), so I tried to explain, but I cited each show when I’m explaining a thing. This continued for several weeks, but getting worse and more weird every time, eventually culminating about 2 and a half months later into them asking me more stuff about life as a vampire and I really realised that they were serious. Bear in mind, Roommate 1 and I were trying to be very clear that we don’t believe in vampires this whole time because we both know how Roommate 2 is about this. As a result, this was the first time I really registered that they seriously seemed to genuinely believe I was a vampire. I firmly told them that I am not a vampire and that vampires aren’t real, they’re fun to joke about, but they aren’t real. They implored me ‘to be straight with them about being a vampire,’ and that ‘I could trust them,’ and I’m ashamed to say, I kinda freaked out at this point, cuz I was afraid that they would be scared of me and maybe try to hurt me, since they seemed kinda unstable because of this.

This is where I think I was an asshole, I am usually very sensitive to mental health issues. I have some c-PTSD myself and there are a lot of mental health issues in my family (unfortunately, I think some history with my own mentally ill father may have made me react this way, since he has very similar issues to Roommate 2 (vaccines, alternate medicines, specifically involving me in his delusions) and I had a very bad experience in my early teens where he thought I was a demon and ‘sent to destroy him’). Anyway, I got very upset and I yelled at them, I told them they were completely crazy and needed to get mental help and said I thought Roommate 1 and I needed to move out because they might try to stake my heart or something. I feel really bad for calling them crazy, especially because Roommate 2 has some very mental health issues and words like crazy make light of and stigmatise that and I’m very big into not blaming people for their mental health problems, but this was very triggering and in this moment I was very distresssed.

So, aita, all things considered here? I’m still gonna feel like the asshole no matter what, since mental health problems aren’t to be taken lightly or blamed on the person, but I’m curious what the internet thinks.

What are these acronyms?

[threepandas]

The Vod's List: Yandere Clones

The Galaxy changes, thanks to spit.

It's not even the first time it's happened, in my peoples history. But it's... kinda weird it happend? Twice? The FIRST time we actually PLANNED for it to happen. It was biological warfare. But this? This was just an accident. One that could have KILLED somebody.

Cause, see, the Techganic people? Are... well to put it lightly, we are the result of centuries of an ideological and spiritual holy war, that nearly tore our plant apart. The two sides don't really "talk" to each other any more. Or... you know... ACKNOWLEDGE the other.

They are waiting for the other to "inevitably die off, due to their own hubris".

Yeeeeeah. Fun times. You can see why I wanted OFF that dirtball.

At least on other planets? The politics aren't PERSONAL... is what I naively thought. Forgot about empathy! You know, like an idiot! Kark. Where was I? Right! Galaxy, changed, spit. Okay, sooo... here's the thing? My family was part of the bloody bone-sucking Holy Naturalist Empire. (Translated to Basic, the word "Naturalist" has more of a specific to the body? Meaning? Not so much "nature of the world" as "nature of the Self" you know? And in THIS case, the word they are using for "holy" in ancient means less strictly "divine" and more "pure like the divine"? It's Complicated.)

And the Progress Collective was ORIGINALLY this whole project, supposedly, that got WAY out of hand, became a cult, then a religion, and tore the planet apart? It was a technological hive mind that want to "perfect" the planet to a "higher state of being". And then extend its reachs to the stars.

We held the karking LINE. Died in legions. Refusing to give our bodies to be made machines. Droids and puppets. Refused to give our freedoms, our homes, our planet. Any of it. But it was at the cost of our original bodies. The only way to truely fight BACK? Was to become... poison.

The Jedi who eventually came, some how FEELING our distress, dispite the blockade the Collective created on the interplanetary transmitters? Our planet's holonet connection? Said that the creator of Our Salvation was guided by the Force. None of us could really argue. The Salvation treatment was madness. A machine so ahead of it's time, we STILL aren't sure how it works, just that it DOES.

We had a choice.

It was no choice at all.

And now? NOW? Kriffing CENTURIES later? I am STILL a biological weapon! Not do much to non-human adjacent races, but anyone human or human modified? Human descended? Kriff, even a few humanoids! If they're CLOSE enough!

I have to take neutralizers if I plan to be swapping any sort of bodily fluids with ANY race that isn't on the "verified Safe" list. For MONTHS. So it can build up in my system properly. And the side effects? Ugh. Stars and Bone, is it AWFUL! Like I GET why people do it. You love who you love. But the nausea! All those meds just to counter the side effects of other side effects!

It made me kinda glad to be single. Stars, poor cousin Tango.

Of course, I AM responsible. I always carry a FULL kit of emergency neutralizers with me. Just in case, Bones and Blood forbid it, the worst should occur. I have some for accidental blood mixing, some for plasma, a couple for bile, and the majority of the rest? Saliva. The most common accident reported. My kit even has an emergency medical guide on a lil piece of flimsy, on the inside lid!

...I feel like I'm getting distracted agai- OH! Right!!

I work in the senate building, now! Astral, right?! Center of the GALAXY! First step to making a DIFFERENCE! Granted, I am basicly the assistant nobody of no one... but STILL! It's a start! I'm ON Coruscant! That's more then most people can say! I go to work passing THE jedi temple each day! You can see them coming and going from your airspeeder!

Unfortunately? Rent is BRUTAL. I live in a glorified closet with barely a bunk and a sonic shower to my name. Not even a proper 'fresher! It's not like we're traveling. Or my species needs to avoid water! No, I literally just CAN'T AFFORD IT! And if you saw the prices? Droids be carting you off to the medcenter before you know it! Where do they GET their water? The outer rim?! Do they deliver it by HAND?!

.....I haven't had my Caf. Ignore me. I just miss feeling proper CLEAN. Sonic showers just... I know it's a psychological thing, but it doesn't FEEL as clean, you know? I am pouting. Pouty me. Unhappy.

Wait... what time is i- OH KARK!!!

See, on Coruscant there is no real "beating" the traffic. But there ARE certain steps you can take to cut travel time. Like making sure you're on the Senatorial speeder. It has right of way and is pretty comfy. And? If I get ON it early enough? Blend in with the walls? I not only can't get kicked off by some plasbone slimeball of a "I think I'm better then you" senator's aid... but they'll run their mouths!

I have learned SO MUCH that way~!

Unfortunately for me? The Caf merchant was REALLY popular today. So dignified I am NOT.

"Hold the 'LIFT!"

It more a desperate plea then an order, but two seperate armored hands immediately reach out and stop the turbolift's doors from closing. Out of breath behind my Goverments mandated mouth gaurd, I struggle to catch my breath as I finally make it. The kriffing thing makes running almost impossible. It makes most things karking near impossible.

"Tha... thank! You!" I manage to pant, trying not to double over. I am a bit light headed. It's hard to remember what I'm supposed to do when I'm like this. "Kriff! I hate running. Can.. never breathe! Afterwards!"

The lift is full of Coruscant gaurds, their mysterious gazes presumably locked onto me. I could only assume, given how their helmets were turned towards me, but ultimately it was impossible to tell. The gaurd standing next to me was more heavily painted then the others. I still couldn't for the life of me figure out what the marks MEANT. Rank maybe?

"Should we be requesting a medical droid?" Came the mechanized voice of... I was fairly sure the one to my left? I turned to address the one I was preeeeetty sure had spoken. It was a small, echo-y lift.

"No, no. It's just the mask. Makes it kinda hard to breathe. Gover-"

I never got to finish explaining. Just as we reach the Speeder platform. As the doors began to open. An explosion ripped the world apart. The very mask I disliked so much, likely saving my lower jaw from being ripped completely off. The turbolift slammed back, crashing, durasteel screeching as supports ripped apart and gave way.

Rapid fire, more explosions. The Gaurd next to me grabbed me, tucked me tight as they braced. Away from the exit. As.. the world... slowly LEANED.

All I could do was stare, terrified, down at the sheer drop of the now frantic Coruscant traffic below. Commuters desperately trying to avoid falling debris. I could hear alarms. The transparasteel below my face cracked.

Wait.

Below?

The 'lift had leaned. MORE then leaned. It was half unmoored. Hanging out into open air. I clung to the gaurd that held me, my caf dropped long ago, now seeping like dark blood through the cracks to drip... drip... drip... out into that terrible drop.

I.. I couldn't breath. My heart was pounding. Too fast. Too hard. Oh Stars that take us in the End, oh Bones and Blood, that we are! C-can't BREATHE! I managed to make a hand unseize. Rip the glorified muzzle from my face, so I could suck in air. I was drooling. Like a mad hunt beast. A panic response, I remembered distantly.

So far down. Oh Stars. We were going to fall so far down!

A creak. A snap. We jerked and swung downwards. I think... I think I sobbed. Pressed as tight as I could make myself to the red heavy gaurd. He was sturdy. Hold strong. I could hear the other gaurds working quickly and in tandem behind me. But... but I was frozen. Useless. N..nothing but dead weight.

I must have started babbling. Apologizing. Because the helmet near my head turned slightly, the arm around my waist tightened just a bit.

"You have nothing to apologize for ma'am. We were trained for this. Made for this. Not you. You're going to be just fine, all right? We'll get you out of here. Just stay calm and try not to move."

We are almost out. Almost free. When the next attack hits. The cheap duracrete crumbles and we DROP. Gravity releasing us for a few, brief, and terrifying moments.

I do not face them with dignity. I am terrified. A fractured, strangled, scream trying to rip its way free of me. Fear too great to let it. Some stars blessed 'Lift cord catches, arresting our fall violently. We slam into the side of the building the Senatorial Speeder pad is on. Throwing gaurds around the lift pod. Smashing us all together.

The man holding me has his helmet knocked off in a violent bounce that leaves his jaw sporting a shallow but painful looking scrape from someone's boot. Two panes of the transparensteel are just... GONE. Howling wind a deadly reminder of what waits below, should anyone fall through those holes.

"Hammer, Tricks! Get those doors open NOW! I don't care if you have to BLAST them open! We are running out of time and I'd prefer not to learn what the low levels taste like at SPEED." Growled a commanding voice in my ear. Then the voice turn reassuring. "We got you. You're not dying here. We're getting out, okay? Just hold on."

I managed to nod. Drool had long ago overwhelmed my mouth, now painting my chin, smearing everywhere. A mess. It mixed with my tears and some part of me was screaming. Dangerous, dangerous! But... but all I could see was that DROP. Gonna fall. Oh Stars, gonna fall! Please. Scared. Don't let go!

I pressed closer. Ignorant of the way my drool wet cheek pressed against the still bleeding wound on his his face. Ignorant of how I was doing the ONE THING I had been warned time and time again to NEVER EVER do.

The turbolift door gave a screeching clunk as they were force out of place. Toppling away. The gaurds ignored it, immediately getting into action. There was a patrol speeder clearly waiting to get into position. One by one the jumped into it. Careful not to destabilize the already precarious lift any further.

Finally it was our turn. And? With a gut turning drop as I was carried down? We were safe. The Speeder immediately making room. I cried. Clung. It took me entirely too long to remember that something might be amiss. It was only when the gaurd I was clinging to stumbled. Admitted to a "bit" of a headache. That everything came crashing back.

Like ice water to the soul.

Oh Stars! What have I DONE!?

I scramble for my neutralizers. The full anti-spectrum kit. Oh Stars! It's in his BLOOD! I stared in horror at the damning sheen of my own spit against his cheek, my hands shaking, trying to rip open the pack. A medic takes it from me. Opens it for me and reads the flimsy guide in side. Curses.

There is no way to REALLY know who was exposed to me. So everyone has to go to the medcenter. Immediately. Get emergency shots just in case. Then follow up with medical droids for a couple weeks afterwards. BARE MINIMUM.

Why? Because my spit carries organic nanites. They hunt and DESTROY anything they deem "non-native" to the body... as defined by MY species. They ignore obviously alien races but human adjacent ones? They were DESIGNED to destroy augmented humans. "Purge" them of their enhancements. They can't tell they difference. Alien humanoid? Augmented Techganic? Same thing, right?!

Without the neutralizers? The nanites will RIP PEOPLES BODIES APART. And even WITH them? All it does is soft reset them to whatever current race their in. They still cause massive problems and medical trauma as they go about "fixing" any perceived damaged. Like, you know, medical devices. Or shrapnel.

They are meant to break and cannibalize what they can. Fix indiscriminately. If it causes YOU unimaginable agony? So be it. At least you will be "whole". Die Technoganic. Pure. The pain has KILLED people. The nanites? Dumb enough to attack VITAL STSTEMS they deem "wrong". Killing their hosts before they themselves can FIX anything. They were a WEAPON. And... and I infected an innocent man.

I am a monster.

All I can do, is apologize. Again and again and again. Stare in horror, into the eyes of the man who SAVED me, and know that I returned the favor by poisoning him horribly. If there was room? I would grovel. This is... this is unforgivable.

He grimaced past the building headache. Pats my shoulder.

The worst part is... is no one is blaming me.

T-they SHOULD be...

The hand on my shoulder spasms, grip turning crushing as my savior's body violently seizes. His hands shoot to his head, limbs twitching and lashing. Blood trickles from his nose. Eyes shut tight against some terrible pain. They've GIVEN him the shot! It should be countering the nanites! The only reason he should be in this much pain would be if there was something lodged in his brain!

All at once... like a doll with his string cut... he relaxes. Just in time for us to arrive at the Medcenter. They try to usher me away from the gaurds. Push them off towards some "take care of it yourself" corner of nowhere.

I throw a FIT. Loudly.

I am prepared to sit on the floor and scream and cry like a youngling, and it must SHOW, because they hurriedly rush us along. People GET their kriffing bacta. Their technoganic poisoning shots. Yes, I had to harrass the nurses it digging the shots out of storage. NO it couldn't KARKING WAIT!

I learned my saviors name was "Fox". That he's actually stationed in the same building as where I work. The Senate.

Thankfully? "I got BOMBED" is a valid excuse not to show up to work. I was allowed to head home. Fox even escorted me. Showed me where the Gaurds all get their off duty meals. Pretty spicy! But good! I don't really notice how clear headed Fox seems. Surely he always was, right? I can't have CHANGED anything, right?

I don't notice him bracing for headaches that never come. Having thoughts that don't slip away. Seeing the world and for once... REALLY seeing it. Being about to trace all the changes back to one person. The smiling, laughing, soul who NEEDED him so much.

He...he was MADE to be needed. To serve and protect. But does everyone DESERVE his service?

Huh... a strange new thought, that one.

But THIS one... this one might make The List. He really hopes she does. Nodding to a passing vod, his eyes drift back to her. She was warm. Stands as a rare bit of bright in Coruscant's filthy everything. He'd... He'd really like to keep her. Feels too soon, but it's true.

Everyone else have their generals. What do the Gaurds have?

Maybe this? Might be nice.

He hopes she makes the List.

[f4nd0m-fun]

@puppetmaster13u

It was getting too long so...

Okay this was VERY long but I love it all. So much food, and very much alive when possible. And yeah they're very much venomous.

... oh gods you're making me hungry for food that isn't even safe even if it existed 😂

Also, I feel like Ivy's plants would, ah, sometimes move if they don't like where they're currently planted. If your neighbor is taking better care of your flowers then you might wake up and see them over there, you just learn to deal. 😅

Ooooo I love that. And I feel like, to Aquaman, it would be like speaking in Pig Latin + Esperanto mixed with the heaviest Scottish accent ever. He can tell it's words, but he can't really understand it.

Also, Bruce singing lullabies to the kids, just imagine. Jason or Dick or anyone shows up having a panic attack and Bruce starts calming them down. First in English, then aquatic, and slowly morphing into a lullaby.

Oh definitely, those other heroes will be struggling. Almost feel bad for them.

The medical professionals must be paid well, and Gotham University probably ends up with a very heavy metal degree that most people might assume is for vets not human doctors. 😂

Oh my gods Helena yes. Poor Supes, and I love the JL freaking out. Also, her bottle HAS to be a little pink, because of the blood that's probably in it. Also, I imagine they're born with weak venom, and drinking their parents' blood lets them process and produce stronger toxins.

I bet Dick and the other kids probably have the same weird food habits and their teammates aren't really sure what they're supposed to do. Sometimes Tim will fall asleep in the middle of lunch and whoever is in the same room will get to see his lunch run away. Probably a bit unnerving. 🤣

I like the idea they might do them for 'major holidays'. Not on the holiday, because Calendar Man (on the holidays is Gotham only, they fully expect him to show up, he's practically invited without saying anything outright), and that's the Outsider Galas. Not just one a year, but not like 20 of em either.

And yeah, aside from runaway food, Tim is pretty good with outsiders. He probably wouldn't eat 'normal' (normal for Gotham anyway) around his team if he didn't trust em or something either. This is probably another reason Bruce made him CEO. 😅

Yesss uncanny valley please. Everyone is freaking out internally, and yet at the same time they can tell they're safe... for now. Servers doing their job, and Gothamites not revealing anything, unless someone does something wrong.

Yesss the rogues. Honestly I just want an AU where the rogues are basically family.

||=====||=====||

"Oh yeah that's aunts Harley and Ivy, they can be fun but don't drink the wine."

Then (controversial I know but also heavily depends on the AU)

"That's Uncle J, we're on tense terms with him but he's got the best drinks if you don't mind letting a bit."

Maybe

"There's not-dad Harv-"

"he's Uncle T right now-"

"-that's Uncle T, don't gamble with him or ask about his coin collection unless you want to stay a while."

Or

"Don't mind Uncle Cobbles, he's a little competitive with B about their family histories, but other than that and birds he's pretty calm."

Even

"Yeah don't mind Uncle John, he's probably more nervous than you are, doing spook him and you'll be fine."

||=====||=====||

Yesss so many photos.

Also, there's two wedding photos. One he shows to outsiders, the other is up at the major as a painting and is the same wedding photo but underwater.

... Ras don't bother your son-in-law's friends please, they have enough on their plate. Seriously, stop. 😂😅

Bruce probably confuses everyone even more by knowing the assassins.

Oooo yes. Sharks, aquariums, oh my. I love all the animals you mentioned too.

... so I randomly looked up 'Victorian modern punk' because why not and...

This was the top result.

[milkywayhou]

You've Got Email (König x OC: Medical Student!Snow) PART III

Summary: When the Colonel from some Private Military Corporation group accidentally send KorTac's secret file via email to a random civilian girl and now they develop some weird relationship.

or

Snow now overthinking about how fucked up her situation can be

TWs: Slow burn (not really), Implies stalking behavior. I just wrote this for fun.

Words Count: 1.9k (The email contain 1.3+ words while the rest was Snow's 4Chan post)

----

From: SnowFarron93@medschool.edu

To: Colonel_König@KorTac.mil

05/13/23 at 01:38 am

Subject: A late night conspiracy ramble…

Hey!

Once again it’s a late night and these weary med student brain cells are firing off all kinds of…interesting theories and connections, to say the least.

For example, okay hear me out, but what if Big Pharma is actually run by ancient shape-shifting lizard people from the center of the hollow earth who feed on human adrenal gland fluid harvested during rituals conducted at Bohemian Grove, and they started the pharmaceutical industry just to get us all addicted to medication so we’re docile little cash cows?!

I know, I know, it’s utterly ridiculous…buuuuut it would explain a few things haha! Anyways, somehow my winding thought process led me back to pondering your own doubtless intriguing backstory, oh mysterious Colonel.

You’ve given mysterious snippets here and there, but never a straight history lesson, you sly dog. Care to unravel some of those shadows for this thirsty student? Like how’d you get into this line of work anyway?

Maybe share something to take my mind off lizard people conspiracies before this insomnia kills me. You’ve got me curious now!

Conspiracizing but also bedridden,

Snow

----

From: Colonel_König@KorTac.mil

To: SnowFarron93@medschool.edu

05/13/23 at 02:01 am

Subject: RE: A late night conspiracy ramble…

You’ve a vivid imagination, to be sure. As for my own history…it’s nothing so fanciful, I’m afraid.

I grew up isolated, with only books as company. Social skills proved…challenging. The bullying was constant. All I wanted was to disappear into the quiet of nature, far from the incessant noise inside my head.

By 17 I was desperate to escape, and the military offered just that. I dreamed of being a sniper – controlling chaos from afar through calm precision. But my frame and restlessness didn’t suit remaining still for long. They saw potential elsewhere. They assigned as an insertion specialist instead. It was difficult, but taught discipline. In time I learned to turn noise into focus, chaos into strategy.

Now I protect others as I wished to be protected then. It brings…solace, of a kind. Purpose, where once was only turmoil.

Get some rest, Snow. Sweet dreams.

König

----

From: SnowFarron93@medschool.edu

To: Colonel_König@KorTac.mil

05/13/23 at 02:14 am

Subject: RE: RE: A late night conspiracy ramble…

I see.

Thank you for sharing that with me. I can’t imagine how difficult those experiences must have been, but I’m grateful you found your calling in spite of them. It takes real strength of character to turn trauma into purpose like that.

Also, I should say the bullying says far more about their weakness of spirit than anything about you. Their loss, as it brought you to where you’re meant to be – helping people in your own way. I can’t help but smile thinking of a tiny bookworm König dreaming of sniping lizards in the woods! Well, you may not be in the trees anymore but it seems your aim is truer than ever.

Thinking on childhoods, mine wasn’t all sunshine either as an awkward kid. Let’s just say blending in was…challenging, to put it lightly. Between moving a lot after my parents split and living with various relatives, school was an escape into study. Seemed the safest route to gain some footing and make the family proud, at least. Kept me busy avoiding the realities outside books for a while too, I suppose. Somehow I suspect lonely bookworm me and you may have gotten along splendidly if our paths crossed back then!

Anyways, not sure where I’m going with this aside from reflecting our younger selves may have found solace in one another, strange as that sounds now in these roles. At least we’ve come into our own in the end, in our own ways. Small favors and all that.

Just a light note before sleep – rest well, König!

Your friend,

Snow

----

From: SnowFarron93@medschool.edu

To: Colonel_König@KorTac.mil

05/28/23 at 08:27 pm

Subject: Essay Woes and Cadaver Flashbacks

Ugh,

My apologies for this incoherent word vomit you’re about to endure. I’m approximately 5-7 days into an all-nighter essay crunch and my last two brain cells are DANCING.

This final assignment is killing me dead but at least after it’s over I can finally be done with med school! *insert jubilant celebration emoji* Of course that’s if I don’t starve to death first living off instant ramen. I’m positively wasting away without a decent meal. At this rate they’ll be teaching anatomy lectures using my lifeless body.

Whoever invents a magic food delivery service that beams freshly cooked meals directly to overworked students is getting a freaking Nobel Prize. A girl can dream, right? At this point I’d kill a man for a good pizza. *hideshypotheticalmurderweaponbehindback*

Anyways, in my spiral of delirium my thoughts keep wandering back to that fateful day months ago when I randomly received your classified KorTac email out of nowhere. Still bewildered how you even had my address to begin with…were you watching me, Colonel? *pretends to be frightened but is secretlyflattered*

Getting that file was kinda scary at first, not gonna lie. Reminded me of the first time we received our cadavers – that creepy feeling of being watched even after leaving the lab. Is that what it’s like being you, always paranoid someone has intel on you? :)

Anyways, enough gibbering – just wanted to share my pain and also wonder again how our wacky email friendship began! Stay safe out there in whatever shady places your work takes you. And send help – I mean, good luck with all the classified stuff!

Tired and Hangry,

Snow

----

From: SnowFarron93@medschool.edu

To: Colonel_König@KorTac.mil

05/28/23 at 08:40 pm

Subject: WHAT DID YOU DO

KÖNIG I SWEAR TO GOD

I LITERALLY JUST GOT A DELIVERY AT MY DOOR. IT WAS PIZZA AND IT WAS ALREADY PAID FOR

DUDE TELL ME YOU DIDN’T HACK INTO MY LOCATION OR SOME SHIT. HOW DO YOU KNOW WHERE I LIVE??

I’M FREAKING OUT A LITTLE NOT GONNA LIE. I KNOW YOU HAVE ACCESS TO SHADY TECH BUT PLEASE TELL ME YOU DIDN’T TRACK ME DOWN

I was joking in my last email! Sort of! Please say this was all just a coincidence. I don’t need some extra secret stalker on top of everything else ;____;

Explain yourself soldier man!!! My paranoia can only be quelled with answers.

Sending mildly panicked regards,

Snow

----

From: Colonel_König@KorTac.mil

To: SnowFarron93@medschool.edu

05/28/23 at 09:12 pm

Subject: RE: WHAT DID YOU DO

Snow,

I assure you, any capabilities related to surveillance are reserved strictly for operations.

As for your delivery, consider it a small kindness from one overworked soul to another. Now eat, regain strength, and get back to that essay. You’ve proven quite resourceful in pulling secrets from shadows. But some mysteries deserve to remain.

Worry not and carry on with your studies.

König

----

From: SnowFarron93@medschool.edu

To: Colonel_König@KorTac.mil

05/28/23 at 09:25 pm

Subject: Spill. Everything. Now.

I appreciate the pizza bailout, don’t get me wrong. But my paranoia has now reached DEFCON 1 levels and it WILL NOT stand down until I get some answers. So spill. Just how much do you actually know about me? Do you have my address on file somewhere? Photos? Socials? Pet peeves? Middle name??

I understand need-to-know for operations, but this is need-to-know for my own peace of mind. Please assuage these frazzled med student nerves and assure me you’re not some mysterious stalker Colonel (unless that’s just part of your charm). I’ll even send new Luna's pics in return! Consider it a debriefing – you give, you get. Otherwise the wheels will keep spinning in my head…

Sincerely (and only mildly obsessively),

Snow

----------

>>Anonymous

05/29/23(Mon)22:37:10 No:132926391

Colonel Stalker Dude is freaking me out

Image: [Confused pepe scratching head.jpg 230kb, 400x400]

>Be me, a totally tired out and broke student

>Remember getting those shady files months ago

>Thought Colonel dude was cool and weird pen pal

>Even started to like him after long talks

>But NOW he knows my address???

>WTF how long has he been watching me

>On one hand it’s creepy AF but kinda flattering a high rank dude cares

>Other hand I don't want a secret stalker or to get disappeared

>Free food is nice but feeling stalked is not cash money

>Used to have bit of crush but now I'm skeeved TBH

>What do? Can't go to cops cuz questions. No close friends/fam

>Too broke to move or change info

>Maybe he’s just lonely but also maybe he climbs in my window ;____;

>What if he takes my organs in the night like some human harvester?!

>Only protection is my cat Luna and she's useless in a fight ;_;

>Try to be positive and asking him how much he know

>Currently waiting for his replied while I was writing this post

>Anons pls help, should I keep talking to possible stalker man?

Don’t want my organs harvested but also don’t wanna waste a free food connection

Very conflicted and slightly paranoid this girl is in DIRE need of advice

Anonymous 05/29/23(Mon)22:45:19 No:132926405: >>132926391(OP)#

Sounds like a thriller romance novel lol! He probs just cares in his own intense way. Keep talking but be safe, maybe feel him out more? Could be nnothing ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Anonymous 05/29/23(Mon)23:16:08 No:132926439: >>132926405#

IKR it does sound like a book! But what if it’s a prequel to a snuff film?! I’ll try to subtly find out wtf he knows without pissing him off…

Anonymous 05/29/23(Mon)23:37:12 No:132926502: >>132926391(OP)#

LOL girl chill no one climbin in ur windows. He prolly just admires ur spirit. Keep lines of comms open, set boundaries if needed but relax!

Anonymous 05/29/23(Mon)23:45:01 No:13292623: >>132926502#

You’re right, I do overthink! I’ll calm my farm. Thank u stranger, maybe he’s just a bored soldier man and not a psycho (´。＿。｀)

Anonymous 05/30/23(Tue)00:25:31 No:13292684: >>132926391(OP)#

Change ur info anyway, maybe he won’t go to ur new stuff. And get some locks/alarms jfc. Play it safe.

Anonymous 05/30/23(Tue)00:42:44 No:13292692: >>13292684#

Can’t change anything, I used my student email! And too broke for moves or upgrades, these loans gotta last :’( but self defense is a must, thanks!

Anonymous 05/30/23(Tue)01:28:19 No:132922735: >>132926391(OP)#

Send Luna pics. Also tell col u feel weird, set ground rules like no stalking. Maybe he just wants friendship. Be safe!

Anonymous 05/30/23(Tue)01:46:31 No:132922757: >>132922735#

[sleepy_Luna.jpg 1,3mb 1000x1000] You’re so right, communication is key. I’ll lay it all out clearly and see how it goes. Thx fren <3

Anonymous 05/30/23(Tue)01:59:36 No:132922805: >>132926391(OP)#

Maybe he liiiiikes you ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) whatever happens keep us posted! We’re invested now lol

Anonymous 05/30/23(Tue)02:08:55 No:132922822: >>132922805#

omggg don't say that!! Now I'll be paranoid AND flustered X_X But I definitely will update y'all, this is quite the melodrama unfolding

Anonymous 05/30/23(Tue)02:15:36 No:132922811: >>132926391(OP)#

Girlll tell that stalker if he wants a piece he gonna have to pay your tuition first! Then maybe you’ll reconsider the organ harvesting. Gotta respect your worth sis 💅

Anonymous 05/30/23(Tue)02:23:12 No:132922834: >>132922811#

Omg you genius!!! If he’s really interested he can sponsor my broke ass med student life lol. Alleviate my debt and he gets unlimited Luna pics, win-win!

Anonymous 05/30/23(Tue)03:01:46 No:132922839: >>132926391(OP)#

Lmao girl you been reading too many thrillers! Military guys have ways of finding people, changing email won’t do shit. Just ask him wtf is up like a normal person

Anonymous 05/30/23(Tue)03:39:44 No:132922926: >>132922839#

Ugh you make a good point, confronting is smarter than hiding. But what if he locks me in a dungeon for being nosy?! I have no one to turn to if I disappear ;-;

------

From: Colonel_König@KorTac.mil

To: SnowFarron93@medschool.edu

05/30/24 at 03:45am

Subject: RE: Spill. Everything. Now.

Snow,

Let’s just say I know more than you think. But rest assured, your privacy and safety remain my priority here.

As for debriefs, some questions are best left unanswered, even between…friends. Maintaining mystique has its place too, no?

Focus on your studies. I’ll focus on ensuring no more interruptions are needed.

Now get some rest. You’ve an early lab tomorrow if I’m not mistaken.

Sweet dreams.

König

----

From: SnowFarron93@medschool.edu

To: Colonel_König@KorTac.mil

05/30/23 at 03:47am

Subject: DUDE.

HOW.

----

This one was short because I've been busy with other stuff hahah. It sure took some twisted turn hmmM? or maybe poor Snow just over reacted ;)

Also love, comment and reblogged are really appreciate! 💖

[venus-is-thinking]

DRDT Chapter 2 Episode 12: Initial Thoughts

Hello everyone! I thought it'd be fun to do a post going over some of my first thoughts from the episode after each release. "Initial" is a bit of a stretch, considering I did watch it a second time while making this post, but it's more "initial" in the context of being before the next episode drops. It's sort of like my "initial thoughts" of the Milgram MVs, which are actually the result of, like, 3 hours of obsessing and research, lol.

(By the way, @accirax and I watched the episode together, so apologies if her initial thoughts end up being, like, the same as mine.)

SPOILER WARNING FOR DRDT CH 2 EP 12!

T/W: Body image issues/body dysmorphia, murder, suicide

The Reactions

Confirmation of what I think most of us already suspected! I do think it's a little weird that Nico didn't bring up their testimony about all of the fish being there at the last time they fed the fish. That probably means it's being saved for later in the Trial, I guess?

It's okay Teruko, I saw literally no one in the entire fanbase figure this one out either!

Why is everyone so mean to her though. Everyone here has been an idiot in the Trials at LEAST once

God I missed David

This was so funny. Get his ass.

(In all seriousness, though, I do wonder if we're going to come back to what J said. I don't currently (?) think Arei was drenched, unless the real purpose of the water WAS just to confuse the time of death, so if the water didn't connect with her enough to cool her down, it might be weird that the body isn't warm after all.)

This took me out. Who let you say that. What.

Okay, but Ace, outside of a killing game... why. Like, literally why would a plastic surgeon need to know how to do an autopsy. King.

Like Felicity...? /hj

All in all, though, this was a really interesting character moment for Arturo! And god, the fact that he started learning medical knowledge and spedrun plastic surgery specifically since age 12 HAS to mean something. My vague theories of Felicity having struggles with body image/dysmorphia (Arturo's section of this post) are... maybe real???

Honestly, I'm starting to wonder if Arturo is going to go farther in this game. I don't expect him to survive or anything, but I could see it taking him a surprisingly long time to die. He feels like he's got too much lore to unpack to die, like, next chapter. Unless he gets HELLA focused next chapter, which is definitely possible.

This is so silly. I love them.

(Note: I'm not a Whit mastermind truther, but if I were, I would point out that MonoTV sort of covering up a rules violation for Whit could be relevant. I'm not a Whit mastermind truther though, so I think this is just a very silly joke a la "no wifi! why live :(" )

Well you see Eden, the killer would have actually had all night to prepare. If, say, they mentioned that they could dial in and focus on their work for like 14 hours straight, they could have gotten a lot done before 7:30 AM!

I'll talk about this more later, but the fact that J, David, Veronika, Hu and Nico seemingly have alibis that actually matter is so iconic. I can't believe that many theories died that quick. I'll talk about that more in my theories section, though!

It's been said before, but. Funniest fucking reaction to being declared innocent of murder.

"David still has a family history of depression even if that isn't his secret" nation where you at?

This one made me laugh out loud. Who does it like him

How truthful do we think David is in this next section? I refuse to believe it's 100% a lie, just because he's cooking SO hard on SOMETHING, but I could also believe David thinks he's lying to an extent. I could definitely see a "the best lies are based on the truth" kind of thing?

Also, damn. Xanvid really is real. LGI got me to believe it but WOW David's just being gay on main now

This was a really good, succinct way to have Teruko show her opposition to David's ideas. Even if it is to end the killing game or do something "good' or whatever, Teruko is still hurt and betrayed by what Xander did. Xander tried to kill her, and presumably would have tried to kill everyone else. David is now doing the same thing.

It's going to be really interesting if, whether genuine or not, David is kinda taking on Xander's position. That's going to give Teruko a reason to (outwardly) hate him even more. I'm really looking forward to learning more about how both Teruko and David view Xander.

Also, it's so fucking funny that Teruko and David are literally fighting over Xander. Like, valid, but. Guys.

(Also, David soooo knows Teruko's secret is the killing game is all your fault. Idk if he specifically knows that Xander's plan was to kill Teruko no matter what, but he's definitely caught on to some extent.)

This was crazy. Is Xander famous? Why would everyone recognize him? Like, did David just take particular notice of Xander because he's a simp, or is there something else going on?

Notably, it's also extremely interesting that David says "Even if you all lost a year of memories for this killing game." It almost implies that David didn't? What do you know???

Also, if David DOES have weird memories about this that no one else does, it's a really interesting comparison to Teruko remembering the existence of a killing game in the area investigation when she was talking to Veronika. Are these two getting special memory privileges because they're important? Or does everyone have some kind of memory that they all should have, but only one person knows each thing?

At first I was confused when David said this, because I really don't know how dear anyone in DRDT's life to him was other than Xander. But then I realized, if David is talking about killing 15 others and yourself, he's definitely still talking about Xander's mindset. Xander had something worth the lives of 16 people that he was trying to do.

I don't know how much David cares about ending the killing game. I wonder if "belief in Xander" is the thing he's willing to kill 13 people plus himself for?

I'm starting to get REALLY curious what J's deal is. Between this and her voiced line earlier in the trial saying something along the lines of "it's like you all still haven't grasped just how serious murder is," she definitely seems to have strong opinions on specifically the morality of killing other people. WHY is she being singled out with these beliefs, what does it say about her, and where is her character headed?

(If she is the mastermind, does this couple with the "all murderers must be held accountable" rule?)

"Any answer" is so funny. I think she's looking for the truthful answer, David. This is why no one believes you when you say anything ever /aff

Notably, this is VERY similar to the plan Eden came up with that Veronika described: using the fact that TV shows need entertainment to continue to end the killing game. It's the same thing, but with a much more depressed "everyone should just give up" kind of flavor.

The level of similarity does make me think David is probably not being 100% truthful, and that he just repurposed Eden's escape plan to be something sort of similar to what he was going for.

I do think that he WAS trying to defeat the killing game by killing people through the class trial. I just think that, between Xander's actions and the motive secret he received, he was trying to kill Teruko specifically. Yet another way that David's unhinged behavior ties into the Chapter 2 secrets.

*Hu hopeless child looms in the distance*

I'm so glad that Hu gets to pop off though. She really hasn't gotten, like, any content in the series so far. Here's hoping this is kicking off her getting a bunch of time to shine!

Interesting that they had both Ace and Hu cut Nico off in this interaction. The staging definitely implies that they're trying to show that while Ace is wrong for talking over Nico and not letting them say anything, Hu is also wrong to an extent for not letting Nico defend themself and running to their rescue all the time.

I am begging you. Please discuss the murder method. I didn't realize until my rewatch of the trial that they have actually literally not talked about the murder method at ALL except for telling David that he doesn't know shit about it.

HUH?????????????

Theory Update/Analysis

Well, I'm gonna start this off by saying that I'm still pretty locked into Eden being the killer. We still need to address the tape, and I personally still found her to be decently shifty now behavior wise (she seemed nervous when we turned back to solving the trial, and she says something about "it's too hard to narrow down the killer :/" when people were talking about morning alibis). I just think it makes the most sense.

While obviously my logic for why Levi would be the accomplice has to be at least somewhat flawed, given Levi's surprise confession (!!!), I still think it's possible that Levi is the accomplice here. He could be doing this to further confuse/complicate the state of things (hence why he calls it leading people astray), and it's possible he's not being 100% honest here.

Something that Levi could be doing here is taking control of the situation and spinning the truth in his favor. Hu mentioned earlier (e11, I think?) that the secrets are phrased dramatically. Similarly, Levi may be trying to offer an explanation for his secret that might be more tame, but still believable.

For example, if Levi says that he killed one of his parents because of the circumstances he grew up in, but it turned out that his parents were extremely abusive to him in some way (cough cough Amane Momose), wouldn't people be more willing to forgive the fact that he's a "murderer"? There are different levels to the culpability of murders.

So, it's definitely possible this is still an attempt by Levi to conceal the truth of his secret. It's true that, right now, no one's really trying to match all of the remaining secrets up with the remaining secret holders in-universe, but the entire fanbase pretty much slam dunked this one. Once the content of the secrets was revealed, it wasn't too difficult to track the origin of this secret to Levi. Levi might know that, and might be trying to spin it in a positive way while he can get everyone's attention and tell everyone the same narrative here in the class trial.

I don't think any Levi accomplice or killer truthers have to fully give up on the idea, or at least not until we see what Levi actually says after this. It's a WILD topic to reveal we're going to talk about, but we haven't actually talked about it yet. If we were told "we get David's motivations for trying to throw the trial," I doubt literally any of us would have locked in the prediction of "David is trying to follow in Xander's footsteps by killing everyone via the trial because he kind of remembers Xander." So, until next week, I'm keeping an open mind!

This was insane. I can't believe we actually got a new episode, and that we're gonna KEEP getting new episodes until the chapter finishes. What the fuck!!!

[gryficowa]

Boycott!

When you find a comment that Alex Hirsch is supposedly angry because he treats staff badly (???), so you type in the search engine about controversies and all you find is a rant from someone on reddit that Alex is supposedly blocked for different views, and then you see his the entry for which he was blocked on Twitter and you're like, "Dude, you said, that Trump is not a racist", I found another blog on tumblr and the funniest accusation against it: Anti-Semitism (Alex's father is Jewish, so yes… That's why I burst out laughing when I saw this accusation)

And apparently there was an accusation of racism in GF, because criminals are mainly black in prison… It's a pity that many of these characters are not even aggressive, look how they treat Gideon, for bandits they are quite… Wholsome, in their own way , anyway, we're talking about a cartoon from 2010… It's just a strange accusation for me, reminds me a bit of this article about Steven Univese and how racist he is, and they give the stupidest arguments, completely ignoring the character's personality…

Yes, racism in cartoons is a big problem (Miracolous…), but here it looks weird, it's just weird, and GF was very diverse for its time, which people prefer to forget…

I'm speaking as a person with ASD, and that says a lot, unfortunately, the cartoon is simply of its times, the humor, appearance and such, it's just part of its times, it's strange to judge all the problems from 2010 in 2024, I'm not saying that you shouldn't criticize , I mean sometimes it's just abstract, people have already forgotten what people were like back then, especially corporations and it depresses me :/

Let's just not forget when something was created, it doesn't justify everything, but it can explain, because there is nothing worse than forgetting history, who people were, it's easy, for example, to attack a mother from years ago for leaving a stroller outside, but you forget that it was normal and many mothers have done it, so blaming her for it, that her child was kidnapped is quite unfair

I know, I wrote a lot about it, but I just have the impression that people from 2024 forget about everything that happened and would like them to burn people at the stake, and I don't like that

Now that I have your attention:

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Although what do you expect in times when people pull out tweets from years ago (When the author was a child) to call him a racist, anti-Semite and all this other shit? Let's just attack people when they did something wrong, when they were adults, not when they were fucking children

By the way, remember about fundraisers, I know, I wrote too much at the very beginning, but these are simply the things that bother me on the Internet

[sagescented]

Freaking out with @genderfluidgothwitch / @wanderlust-----witch because they're the only other person I've personally encountered who knows the history of Lysol as a vaginal irrigant for contraception and abortion in the early 19th century and I've never encountered anyone else who knows that fact before.

If we weren't convinced we were basically twins before, man ...

ETA: Scratch that. More people know about this! I have found my people finally, after years! I am rejoicing in weird historical medical knowledge town and I'm so excited!

ETA 2: Lysol's use in this manner in the early 19th century (we're talking the 1900's through the 1960's, mostly when Contraception was actively illegal) is just a "fun historical fact" and nothing more. This does not mean "file away just in case you need help in a pinch"- and that isn't me being cheeky to get around censors, wink wink, nudge nudge ... That is me, a trained Lay Herbalist with knowledge of historical abortifacient and contraceptive measures, actively telling you not to be an idiot.

One, the formulas are no longer the same to begin with. But secondly? Vaginally Induced Lysol Poisoning was a very common occurrence during this timeframe. Using it this way actively killed people quite frequently. It also straight up wasn't even effective in the first place- something that was proven as early as the 1930's, at the height of its use as a vaginal douche. They knew it didn't work (unlike several known historical methods that we know can kill, but at least have some measure of a success rate when used properly and under very strict guidance).

So just don't, okay? Do not "file this away" like that. This is literally nothing more than a fun and crazy fact to pull out at your next party to weird people out about a favorite household cleaning product. Do not be that person, please. There's a reason we use things like Simpesse and Plan B, now. Continue to fight for them.