YOU CANT CHANGE THE VOLUME OF THE VOICE IN YOUR HEAD
FUCKING TRY I DARE YOU
ITS IMPOSSIBLE AND ITS REALLY FUCKING WITH MY MIND SOMEONE HUG ME
I CAN MAKE IT SCREAM WITHOUT GETTING LOUDER
H E L P
Holy shit whispering is the same volume as shouting as loud as I can
what have you done
We think in concepts
Concepts have no volume
Because a thought is the loudest silence of all.
whoa there socrates
"When I got my first cat, it changed me. There is something about holding a cat that makes your anger melt away. And if someone does something that upsets me—I have to remember my cat. I can’t keep my cat if I get into trouble.”
"I asked if Major Cabanaw had concerns for the safety of the cats. “Of course, we always want to ensure the safety of the cats, and the staff is great about keeping an eye out for them. But mostly, it’s the offenders keeping them safe. I have never once seen an offender kill his own cat. We screen them to be sure they have no history of animal abuse. But I’ll tell you this, there was a guy killed in here because he had spit soda pop onto someone else’s cat.”"
Cats now control the prisons. They now have an army.
» Day Two: Favorite Tweets
9 hours of studying and I can’t remember my own name but I can remember how to kill a man using a toothbrush so there’s that
the hell kind of classes are you taking?
I’m a forensic criminologist our slogan is “can’t run fast enough to be a serial killer so I’ll just help the police catch them”
Osric Chau asking a question at the Supernatural Comic Con panel.
Stiles "I’m having an idea and nothing else matters" Stilinski
Also note: Coach’s two-handed grip and better leverage to pull the stick away didn’t even make Stiles pay attention. I really want some kind of post-canon college fic where Stiles is used to sort of barely keeping up with werewolves and someone like his roommate is like “Holy shit, are you Superman?”
I wrote this at 2am last night, soo yeah.
Ryan has a weird roommate.
Seriously let’s start with the guys name. Stiles. What kind of name is Stiles? When Ryan asks he gets a chuckle and some rehearsed bullshit about a Polish name nobody can say so Stiles it is.
Then there’s his friends. Which fine, they’d laid out in the roommate agreement that they could have people in their room just not on the other persons bed or in their stuff. Well, Stiles lofted his bed over a couch and it faces the shelf with the tv. At this point he can’t even count how many times he’s come in the room and found 4 people cuddled up on Stiles bed with another 3 or 4 on the couch below. And then when he asked about their relationships (because they’re obviously close) Stiles has waved him off that they were just friends from high school and had no personal space issues. Ok, fair. Not everybody had huge personal bubbles. And Stiles seemed to be completely devoted to his boyfriend.
Oh but the boyfriend. The dude just gave off vibes like Ryan couldn’t get far enough away from him the first month of living with Stiles. But then the two had come back to the dorm while his girlfriend of 3 years was there and something changed. The guy with the permanent 5 o’clock shadow calmed down and Ryan no longer had the feeling of running and hiding whenever he appeared. He was actually kind of nice. The guy (‘Derek, His name is Derek, Ryan.’ ‘You mean I can’t call him McStubble?’) came one day in the middle of the week during midterms to push Stiles into the shower, shove some food down his throat and get him to sleep for the first time in over 48 hours. Stiles passed all his tests anyway and Ryan didn’t get why he was worried in the first place.
The next part: dude was smart as hell. Like he’d walked in and overheard him running theories with his dad the sheriff about a case. Not a week later Ryan read in the local newspaper about the arrest of a drug cartel ring by Sheriff Stilinski. Unbelievable. Then his classes. His homework was always done and whenever it would be lying open on the desk he’d notice the grades were always higher than a B. And even those were rare. Or he’d walk in on a research binge that Stiles would never tell him what it was for. He’d seen some of the pages that Stiles missed. Wolfs bane. Harpies. Possession wards.
He also had really weird sleeping habits. But Ryan shrugged that off as just normal college student stuff. Who wouldn’t take naps given the opportunity?
The really weird part though was the guy himself, physically. When they first met his impression was that he was kind of skinny. The skinny jeans and baggy shirts accented that ideal. Then he noticed how much Stiles exercised. He went to the gym every other night and ran every morning. One day Stiles had left his Nike mile tracker up on his computer. And there is no way that was right. It said he ran 8 miles every day. 10 on the weekends.
Shit. Ok then. He wouldn’t have thought much of it. Ok so the guy kept himself healthy and in shape can’t fault him for that. Then one day he comes in and Stiles has his loft held up with one hand while he sweeps with the other. Apparently that was the norm. Or like the day he walked in and Stiles was moving the mini fridge they’d just put two cases of beer and a case of bottled water into. That thing weighed a fuck ton and he was holding it up like nothing.
Then there was the day Stiles was playing with his baseball bat (fuck if Ryan knew why he had one he didn’t even play the sport) and they’re messing around. Stiles gets distracted so Ryan grabs the handle and tried to take it from him. One fucking handed Stiles holds onto that fucking bat even though Ryan’s got two hands and his weight pulling against him.
"Are you like Superman or what?!"
He finally asks when he falls on his ass after losing his grip on the bat. Stiles had just looked at him really confused.
"You. You are like superhumanly strong and fast and smart. How have you not noticed this?”
Stiles shrugs and shakes his head before he snorts and mutters something under his breath about “you really do become who your friends are.”
Ryan is really confused.
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