if i ever see any of this at someones house, im just gonna leave and never come back
Boston Chops basically does the 2nd one.
Sorry it’s three days late, kirayaykimura. Happy birthday, anyway! And also I’m sorry for this hot mess of a ficlet. You deserve better, tbh.
Now on AO3.
In 2nd grade, Nicki Welch told Stiles Stilinski that his plaid shirt and Spiderman graphic tee looked stupid. He responded by looking pointedly at her stomach and saying that bloodsucking hookworms were inside about 700 million people.
She cried for two hours, and Ms. Briar made him go to the quiet chair. “One day, your mouth is really going to get you into trouble!” she’d scolded with a wagging finger.
Stiles contemplates those words as his dad’s new deputy hauls him into the station.
He’s still totally going to blame Scott for the situation, though.
“I see … an orange tabby in the window,” Stiles says, straining to hold his cellphone and adjust his binoculars at the same time. “Just a regular orange tabby.”
“But what does it look like?” Scott replies from his end of the line. “Does it have two distinct white patches on its belly?”
“It looks every other orange fucking tabby that has ever existed since the dawn of time,” Stiles snaps back. “And I can’t even see its belly. Now can I please be done with this?” Seriously, he’s been so swamped with course work, TA duties, and grad school applications that he hasn’t been home in nearly a year. He and Scott should’ve commenced bro-time the second he crossed Beacon County line, but instead? He’s creepily parked in an apartment complex and spying on some old broad because Scott is convinced she stole Allison’s cat. The things I do for love, he thinks bitterly.
“Yeah, I guess,” says Scott. “Pizza and Call of Duty sound good? And Allison’s making Nutter Butter Pie.”
“Aww honey, you shouldn’t have! I’ll be there in-“
The loud knocking on his car window startles the phone right out of Stiles’ grasp. And if he lets out a high pitched shriek, the only ones who hear it are himself, God, and …
The world’s hottest cop since the stripper he booked for Erica’s bachelorette party—the one currently frowning at him through the glass and gesturing for him to roll the window down. Stiles obliges not out of any concern but because dat beard. Jesus, when did his dad hire this guy? He would’ve been home a lot sooner.
With his dad’s long shifts and his mom’s inability to watch him, Stiles ended up at the Sheriff’s station a lot as a kid. Which wouldn’t have been a problem, except he had a penchant for mischief and big doe eyes that could convince even the most hardened deputies to look the other way. Eventually the Sheriff had to take it over his head.
The binder started as a quick office memo about Stiles not being allowed in the break room anymore, due to unforeseen circumstances involving yogurt and the office coffee pot.
(“I was experimenting dad,” Stiles huffed from the corner he was serving his time out in. “I could be a scientist one day. Do you really want to squash my potential?”
“Save experimentation for college,” his dad replied, not even looking up from the file he was reading.)
So one memo turned into two, and suddenly an entire collated binder was being handed to the new transfer after she let Stiles “have a sip” of her coffee.
“It’s not your fault,” the Sheriff said over Stiles loudly quoting Oh Captain, My Captain in his office. He glanced over to see Stiles climb onto his desk and sighed. He should never have signed that permission slip letting him watch Dead Poet’s Society. That movie was clearly a horrible influence. Inching towards his office, he said to the new girl, “Just read this over tonight, okay? For the good of all of us.”
“It’s pretty straight forward,” Parrish says once things have died down a little around the office. He takes the binder out of Derek’s hands, flips to the table of contents, and pulls his chair flush with Derek’s so they can both see. “It’s broken down into five sections: Food and Drink, School, Sleep Schedule, Items and Areas, and Miscellaneous Behavior. Within these five sections are various subsections, such as 1C – No coffee ever. Tea is acceptable, but only before seven pm. See? Pretty easy.”
Derek flips to the first page, dazed. “All this for one kid?”
“Trust me. I thought the same thing you did when I started working here, but there’s a reason this has been around for almost ten years.”
Still a little skeptical, Derek flips to a random page. 4F – Should Stiles ever get his hands on a Taser gun, shoot him with yours first, remove the gun from near his person, and then (and only then) ease off the trigger. Underneath that reads, I condone this message. – Sheriff Stilinski. Jesus. What has he gotten himself into?
It’s not until weeks later that he makes his first addition to the binder.
5H – His nose twitches when he gets offended.
Q: Why do they keep making Hook hit the floor?
C: Because I’m really good at the funky worm.
I made this purely for my own enjoyment and practice because Nicky and also because of Leah’s new url nickyoflahertyCross & Crown by Abigail Roux
“Damn, you look good, Nicky,” the man said, and he brushed at Nick’s shoulders, grinning.
“No one calls me that anymore.”
this is a fridge, you put your shit in the gel and it keeps it cool, than you just reach in and take it out. the gel automatically reforms.
what happens if someone falls in
then they freeze and 1000 years passes and they fall out and get a cyclops for a girlfriend
can i fuck it
don’t fuck the gel fridge
Fuck the gel fridge
Mum: Imagine going to a crime scene and seeing the body in one of these.
Mum: All the CSIs standing there going THIS IS SO FUCKING COOL
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