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theloversarcana · 6 months

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Random Ann headcanons because I’m bored

♡An absolute menace while driving, please don’t put her behind the wheel

♡(She has a lot of road rage and is pretty reckless when it comes to driving)

♡Is very scared of ghosts but Shiho keeps trying to get her to use a ouija board in old abandoned buildings

♡Has breakdowns often and can immediately be calmed down by the promise of Ben&Jerrys Phish Food ice cream

♡On that note, is a massive crybaby

♡Beautiful Princess Disorder (ifykyk)

♡Has to wear fake eyelashes 24/7 and feels naked without them

♡When she has enough energy to do makeup but not enough to do a full face her essentials are: winged eyeliner, fake lashes+mascara, blush, a red lip and her fav Fenty highlighter (Diamond Bomb in Rosé Rave)

♡Her parents are rich and she has expensive taste in most things, constantly tries to give her friends money and buy them things but they always refuse

♡(As she gets older her parents slowly stop sending her money and she has to learn to fend for herself)

♡Flips back and forth between “I am the most beautiful person in the world” and “I am so ugly I hate myself and I want to break every mirror in my house” very often

♡Has an absurdly large collection of candles

♡Is very indecisive (and picky) about her signature fragrance. Has tried many, many perfumes but still hasn’t found the perfect one so she smells different almost every day

♡Really bad ADHD, has medication but always forgets to take it

♡Her absolute fav color is red and she has to have everything in red. Pink is second but red will always be #1

♡Sanrio girlie through and through

♡Loves binging shitty reality tv shows like Too Hot to Handle, Jersey Shore, Say Yes to the Dress, and any Gordon Ramsey shows

♡Her guilty pleasure food is Chik-Fil-A (pretending Japan has it)

♡Her main music taste is 2000s-2010s pop (Ke$ha, Britney Spears, etc) but has a very large variety of music she likes

♡Her go-to breakdown song is What Was I Made For? by Billie Eilish (also she cried at least 4 times during the Barbie movie)

♡Shiho loves going to antique stores and trying to buy cursed objects which upsets Ann GREATLY

♡(A real interaction that happened) Shiho: *holding a crowbar* This object has really intense energy.. you think someone murdered someone with it? Ann: DONT YOU DARE THINK ABOUT BUYING THAT

♡Was a Legend of Zelda girlie as a kid and still loves the series. Zelda is one of her biggest kins

♡Mean girls is her favorite movie

♡Is a practicing pagan* with Hecate as her patron goddess

♡*I say practicing lightly because she often completely forgets about it and is terrible at keeping up with holidays, routines, rituals etc

♡Has a drinking problem

♡Vomits incredibly easily, accidentally vomited on Shiho once

♡Listens to true crime podcasts while doing her makeup

♡Uses said true crime podcasts for ideas for her plan in her head to murder Kamoshida and get away with it

♡Besides Zelda her other favorite franchises are Barbie, Studio Ghibli, Sailor Moon and Monster High

♡Ryan Gosling is her celebrity crush and she especially fell in love with him after seeing him as Ken

♡Is definitely dating Shiho but could also be dating Ryuji, Futaba and/or Goro (everyone loves her)

♡She is besties with Akira (though this is very specific characterization of Akira who is transfem and straight)

♡They’re strictly best friends but they have no boundaries. They will take baths together or make out because they’re bored and lonely

♡Had to cut her hair to a bob once because her split ends were getting so bad and she cried for a week

♡Is INCREDIBLY protective of her friends and will drop anything to help them. Has been the shoulder people cried on many, many times

#I know some people are offended by the beautiful princess disorder thing but it’s a joke I have BPD and humor is my coping mechanism #these are all hyper-specific because I’m an ann fictive and this is all just shit about Me lol #I know I’ve mentioned I’m an ann fictive like 50 times on this blog in the past week or so but I do not care ♥️#also sorry it’s so long oops!!#ann takamaki #persona 5 #p5

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isobellaturcoms · 2 years

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Collecting quotes

“What would happen if the autism gene was eliminated from the gene pool? You would have a bunch of people standing around in a cave, chatting and socializing and not getting anything done.” Dr Temple Grandin, American scientist, academic and animal behaviorist

“My autism is the reason I’m in college and successful. It’s the reason I’m good in math and science. It’s the reason I care,” – Jacob Barnett, sixteen-year old maths and physics prodigy

“Without deviation from the norm, progress is not possible.” – Frank Zappa

“Autistic people have probably done so much for hundreds of years without any credit.”

― Elle McNicoll, author of A Kind of Spark

“We just need to be kinder to ourselves. If we treated ourselves the way we treat our best friend, can you imagine how much better off we would be?” Meghan Markle

“I’ve been searching for ways to heal myself, and I’ve found that kindness is the best way.” Lady Gaga

“I am different, not less.” Dr Temple Grandin, American scientist, academic and animal behaviorist

“Universities are renowned for their tolerance of unusual characters, especially if they show originality and dedication to their research. I have often made the comment that not only are universities a 'cathedral' for worship of knowledge, they are also 'sheltered workshops' for the socially challenged.”

― Tony Attwood, author of The Complete Guide to Asperger's Syndrome

“When I was diagnosed, it just gave me permission to be kinder to myself, to not always take responsibility for being a bit clumsy around other people, and allow me to start to tell people, ‘I’m clumsy, but I [don’t] mean to be.’ And being more open about, ‘I need you to tell me what I did wrong, and then we can move on from there.’ Hannah Gadsby – Comedian ‘Nannette Douglas’

Steven Spielberg (dyslexia)

Legendary film director Steven Spielberg wasn’t diagnosed with dyslexia until he was in his 60s. School administrators thought he was lazy. He was bullied by classmates, and his troubles in school played a part in his career. Not only did making movies give him a place to channel his energies, but feeling like an outsider helped him co-write The Goonies, a hit movie about a quirky group of friends who didn’t quite fit in at school. He said finding out as an adult that he has dyslexia was like “the last puzzle piece to a great mystery that I’ve kept to myself”.

Cher (dyslexia and dyscalculia)

Ryan Gosling (ADHD and difficulty reading)

“I think over the years, what I’ve come to learn, thanks to some great therapists, is my depression is created by a severe level of ADHD.” Trevor Noah

“Although people with autism look like other people physically, we are in fact very different in many ways. We are more like travelers from the distant, distant past. And if, by our being here, we could help the people of the world remember what truly matters for the Earth, that would give us a quiet pleasure.” Naoki Higashida

“I have Aspergers and that means I’m sometimes a bit different from the norm. And – given the right circumstances - being different is a superpower.” Greta Thunberg

“Having ADHD, and taking medicine for it is nothing to be ashamed of, nothing that I’m afraid to let people know.” Simone Biles

“As an artist, I think it’s a self-evident truth that not thinking like everyone else is positive and beneficial.” Florence Welch, lead singer from Florence and the Machine

neurodiverse individuals are often wired with characteristics that enable them to succeed where others fail

Gabriel Alliance

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amillionandonefandoms · 10 months

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7, 8 and 14 for the pride asks :)

7. Are you the token queer person in your family:

Yes but like.. no? I haven’t formally come out at all, I’ve just given up on hiding it at this point- so I have flags and pins and I go by a different name, but I haven’t actually said anything yk? And as for being the token queer person: I definitely am to my sister and my mom’s side of the family, but my dad’s cousin is happily married to another man, and I’m pretty sure he’s the token queer person- even for me

8: describe your gender without using any words traditionally associated with gender

Folding cheese into a sticky biscuit dough, and the way Ryan gosling says boyfriendgirlfriend, and board shorts but also teeny tiny bikini tops, and 90s boy hair, and the home-made worms on strings I made 2 (3?) years ago out of fluffy pipe cleaners, and rollerskating (but not rollerblading), and the first kid I ever babysat (2 year old girl- I was 8, we drew with chalk), and the first kid I ever babysat alone (6 year old boy- I was 11, we played with transformers and used sticks in the yard as swords)

14: how do you think other factors like neurodivergence or upbringing have affected your identity

Ok- I want to start this by saying I don’t technically have a claim to neurodivergence yet- I have a test scheduled and my therapist has “diagnosed” me with anxiety, SAD, ADHD, and insomnia, soo…

That being said, I was raised Episcopalian (which is like chill Christian), and we went to church every Sunday and I was an Acolyte. My mom was very strict, and until Covid my dad was consistently out of town for work.

All of that background to say, I think my background managed to both restrict how I explored interpersonal avenues, and to expand them- I was never allowed to go to peoples houses or have friends over, so I didn’t have close friends until high school, but I spent recess and lunch reading every day, so I still found exposure to healthy relationships and beautiful friendships and support and love that I didn’t see every day and I don’t know what that changed about me, but it definitely changed something in how I look at relationships, yk?

#thank you for the ask!!#Xia answers asks

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kantuck · 5 years

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ADhD, something to think about.

A friend sent me this: (I’m copy/pasting, mistakes are the authors.)

“Kan, saw this on FB, thinking of you.”

I was asked a while ago by a friend to share my thoughts on ADHD, and what I believe about this unique neuro-diversity that we all seem to have. It has taken me some time to put it into words, but here is the basic gist of it and I hope it can help someone to understand the “why” behind what we all experience.

ADHD is not a curse, It is not broken, it is NOT a malfunction of the brain or a “Mis-wiring”. It is not from your mother smoking cigarettes when you were in utero, and it is NOT from too much television as a child. ADHD is a Nuero-diversity. It is a different wiring of the brain as it relates to the body and to information collection AND most importantly it has a purpose! Before I get to that piece though, let me share with you what I KNOW about ADHD.

ADHD is a label that we have assigned to individuals that present with a specific set of symptoms associated with a diagnosable neuro-diversity. These symptoms can include things like distractibility, forgetfulness, inattention, hyper-focused attention, emotional storms, irritability, feelings of worthlessness, active or overactive imagination, tardiness or skewed senses of time, imposter syndrome, out of control thoughts, and severely low self-esteem.

Recently, research studies have identified three (3) aspects of ADHD that are experienced by almost everyone with this neuro-diversity and not experienced by almost none without it.

Interest-based nervous system: Not just interest-based attention, but your entire nervous system functions differently based on your level of interest. When you find something truly interesting it will actually energize you. Sleep is irrelevant, Food is a fleeting thought. You are sustained by interest. Have you ever found yourself up way past time to go to bed, forgot that you had to go to the bathroom, or didn’t eat, just because you were so interested in something? Yeah, me too.

Emotional Hyper-Arousal: Imagine this like you have a volume knob for “Emotions” and yours is turned up 5 notches higher than the neuro-typical people around you. Your highs are higher, your lows are lower. Merely funny is hilarious and mildly sad is sorrowful. Everything is extreme. Not worth humor is funny and not worth heartache is indeed sad. Every emotion felt is more-than.

Rejection-sensitive-dysphoria: Basically, we are hypersensitive to rejection, from anyone. It doesn’t really matter if we consciously care about the individual or group that is enacting the rejection. We are just hyper-sensitive to being rejected by anyone for any reason. Even if we don’t want to be part of the club, we are sensitive to the club not wanting us as a member kind of thing.

Now if we combine these symptoms and aspects we begin to see some pretty obvious and reoccurring traits that cause problems in daily life.

Imposter syndrome: Minimizing our accomplishments and maximizing our failures or faults. If we succeed, then it was easy or luck, but if we fail it is because we are flawed or broken and we are totally responsible.

Hyper-focus: I can be focused on something that I am interested in, but cannot manage to pay attention to a board meeting. I am all about the next book coming out, but forget my anniversary.

Emotional storm: I have a thousand thoughts running through my head and each one has an emotion that I have to feel as it passes and therefore I feel a thousand emotions in the span of a few seconds and cannot differentiate between them.

There are many many more that I don’t think that I need to list. You can see the patterns I am sure.

What if…..?

What if ADHD was natural?

What if ADHD was not ADHD, but something else?

What if ADHD was NOT a Deficit or a Disorder, but an adaptation?

Scientific research now suggests that what we know as ADHD is actually an evolutionary adaptation to a Hunter/Gather lifestyle.

In a natural environment, where there are predators and prey, where the rustling of leaves, or the flash of game in the periphery, or the trickling of water heard, could mean the difference between life or death, it is actually an extreme benefit to have an overabundance of involuntary attention. It is a bonus to be hyper-aware (distractable).

This is why so many that have ADHD wired brains find solace in natural environments. There is so much to “Pull” our attention, but so little to “Pay” attention to. We find ourselves recharged by walks in the forest or sitting near a babbling brook. This is our natural born element and so it invigorates us.

So why so few of us then? Well, let's look at that. Darwin’s theories of evolution state that: If there is a mutation in an individual that is part of a species that makes that individual more likely to survive, then that mutation will be passed along to its offspring and therefore make the offspring more likely to survive than it’s counterparts of the same species and thus, the mutation will eventually, though the process of natural selection, be distributed to the entire species and will no longer be a mutation, just part of the species. For example: if a bird has a mutation that increases its beak size and that increases its survivability, then eventually the entire species will have larger beaks. So, let's look back at 20,000 years into our human history. Everyone that existed on the planet were hunter/gathers. It is very likely that at that time, the majority of individuals were also what we call today, ADHD. Then one day, someone decided that it would be a good idea to plant & farm & build walls & raise livestock & stay in one place.

Now we have these sedentary people that are NOT hunting or gathering in dangerous environments. They are protected by walls and removed from danger.

However, we still have all these ADHDers that cannot stand being still, so they are still hunting and gathering and putting themselves in danger.

Who is more survivable now?

Fast forward 20,000 years…..97% of all humans are sedentary and only 3% are ADHDers.

ADHD is not new, it is not made up by Pharma, it has always been here, just never called the same thing. The first mention of an individual that appeared to display ADHD symptoms that I found was from the writing of Hippocrates, also known as the father of modern medicine, he stated: The patient has quickened responses to sensory experience, but also less tenaciousness because the soul moves on quickly to the next impression.

Back then, “soul” was the word for mind and “impression’ was the word for thought. So what he was saying is ...The patient has heightened responses to external stimulation but has less follow-through because the mind moves on quickly to the next thought.

If that is not ADHD I don’t know what is.

This is not a bad thing though. All we need to do is look throughout history to see ADHDers in action. We can take the symptomatology that we know now and apply it to historical figures and we see that the most innovative and influential individuals in history were probably ADHDers.

Socrates Leonardo Da Vinci Mozart Benjamin Franklin The Wright Brothers Salvadore Dali Walt Disney Nikola Tesla Thomas Edison Albert Einstien John F. Kennedy And if those names don’t do anything for you then how about these names of self-professed ADHDers:

Justin Bieber Simone Biles David Blaine Terry Bradshaw Richard Branson Andre Brown Jim Carrey James Carville Jim Caviezel Wendy Davis Katherine Ellison Josh Freeman Ryan Gosling Viglil Green Ed Hallowell, M.D. Woody Harrelson Mariette Hartley Cameron Herold Paris Hilton Christopher Knight Solange Knowles Adam Kreek Jenny Lawson Greg LeMond Adam Levine Howie Mandel Audra McDonald Alan Meckler Rep. Kendrick Meek Matt Morgan David Neeleman Paul Orfalea Ty Pennington Michael Phelps Pete Rose Michele Rodriguez Louis Smith Leigh Steinberg Payne Stewart Shane Victorino Bubba Watson Henry Winkler Brookley Wofford

ADHD is not the “fault” it’s the exception. We have always been here and we have always been the ones that are changing the world.

There is statistically a higher percentage of ADHD in America than in Europe. Researchers believe that this is because our founding fathers and the immigrants that are our heritage had the out-of-the-box impulsiveness to pack up and go across an entire ocean to make a better life!

ADHD is not a curse, it is not a disorder, society has the disorder because as much as it touts individuality, it is only acknowledged once an individual complies with the obligation of normalcy. You cannot be creative unless you can get to work on time. You cannot be innovative unless all your bills are paid. Blah Blah Blah….

Being born with ADHD is like being born with a beautiful pair of raven black angel wings. Imagine for a moment how that would be. You would be shunned as a freak. Called an abomination. You would try to hide your birthright if only to “Fit in” or be “normal”, and always throughout all of the insults and put-downs, through all of the pain and sorrow, all you would have to do is spread those beautiful black wings and soar….

We are not the problem. We are the solution. We are the R&D while everyone else trudges on the assembly line. We are the inventors and the visionaries, while the neuro-typical are content with the status quo. We take the risks and run the chance….sometimes to our detriment, but also sometimes to glory.

Doubt yourself all you want. Tell us all that “your” ADHD is a disorder or a disability, but make no mistake…..You are amazing.

#ADhD

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kaycares22 · 6 years

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when you see this, post an excerpt from a wip

It’s 8 o’clock on a Tuesday night, and the bar is mostly empty. A guy in a suit nursing three fingers worth of bourbon, a man and a woman who are seemingly together but both buried in their phones, two retirees with empty plates and empty beers sticking around for the conclusion of Game 3 of the World Series, a group of co-eds at one of the high tops. It’s halfway between San Francisco and Beacon Hills and hasn’t hosted a full house crowd since the 80s, which makes it perfect. Stiles picks a spot off to the side and slides onto a stool.

Before he’s even settled in, the bartender flashes him a smile and slips a cocktail napkin in front of his place. “Can I get you anything?” He opens his mouth to respond, but he’s quickly distracted by the TV screen on the opposite wall where the first baseman is about to make the final out of the night. She follows his line of sight, twisting around to watch the ball land perfectly in his glove. End of Game 3. A little ways down the bar, the two retirees grunt their approval, and the bartender swivels back around with an even wider smile. “Especially now that we’re celebrating.

Stiles raises an eyebrow in silent protest. “Celebrating?”

She mirrors his expression as she leans a little closer and says, “You live in California, and you’re going to root against the Angels?”

“My mom grew up in Chicago,” he says, holding up his hands in a what can you do? gesture.

“You’re rooting for the Cubs?” She scrunches up her nose in disapproval, and he gives a second shrug of his shoulders. “Well I might have to ask you to leave then. Want to order anything while I make up my mind?”

“Coors? Please.” The bartender nods and taps the surface of the bar twice before moving away.

Alone, Stiles pulls his phone and checks it. It’s now 8:04. He glances over his shoulder at the door, then back down at his phone, the screen still blank. His foot starts tapping against the rung of his stool, just a little faster than the song playing in the bar. It’s been years since he took something for his ADHD, but something itches beneath his skin as he glances down at his phone in time to watch the time flip over to 8:05. Then he glances over his shoulder again.

“So.”

Stiles’s head whips back at the sound. The bartender sets the bottle in front of him, lips pursed in whatever question comes next. About Chicago… he can practically hear her say. He’ll laugh and give another shrug as he recounts the story of his grandparents, Polish immigrants, who settled in the only major city in the Midwest teeming with reminders of home. About his mother who couldn’t wait to escape the miles of cornfields she grew up surrounded by. About his father stationed on the coast, the furthest thing from a cornfield. Because there’s no better time than 8 o’clock (8:06) on a Tuesday to spill your life story to a complete stranger. But she’s cut off by a gasp from somewhere behind Stiles, and one of those coeds is suddenly dangerously close to invading his personal space.

“Can you turn it up?” she breathes, blue eyes wide. “They’re talking about it.”

He follows her line of sight to the TV in the corner. The game is over, replaced by the nightly news. On the screen, a reporter talks to the camera, the US Capitol building a backsplash behind her. Stiles’s stomach wastes no time forming a thick, tight knot.

“It’s muted,” the bartender deadpans, but if the blonde notices, she doesn’t let on, as she nods eagerly. The bartender stares for another minute before she sighs and moves away to adjust the volume until the TV starts to compete with the Bruce Springsteen song still playing overhead.

“…has garnered a surprising amount of support in the last year, Ron,” the reporter says onscreen. “But there’s still a lot of upheaval over this controversial issue, especially outside of California.”

The image changes to a hallway somewhere, a middle-aged woman in a red dress now standing with a microphone in front of her face. “It’s just not safe. Who knows what those… those things are capable of?” She punctuates the question with a shiver, like she’s physically ridding herself of the thought.

Again, the camera switches to a slightly older man in a suit. “This is a slippery slope,” he says, wagging his finger at the camera in a way that probably won’t get him the re-election votes he thinks it will. “Pretty soon, people will be demanding rights for their pet goldfish. And what then?”

Stiles snorts at the irony of the guy’s statement, unintentionally breaking the silence that had settled over the bar.

“He’s right, you know,” one of the retirees says as he wags his finger in the same way, first at Stiles, then back at the TV. Stiles feels grateful when the stranger turns his attention back to his friend and busies himself with picking at the corner of his bottle’s label while still listening in. “We don’t know where this ends. And they’ll spread - like an infection. And how will we even know? You can’t tell by lookin’ at ‘em!”

“It’s almost like they’re just like us,” Stiles mutters under his breath as he works a corner loose. He didn’t realize the bartender had drifted back his direction, not until she leans forward and presses her elbows against the bar, also dangerously close to invading his personal space.

“They bothering you?”

He shakes his head. “They’re just -” But she cuts him off with a sigh.

“I’m just tired of it, y’know? Like I’m 28, and this hasn’t even been a thing till now. Couldn’t they have just stayed wherever it was they were?” Her words drip with empathy, and Stiles realizes too late that she thinks they share the same frustration. He’s silently glad he didn’t tell her his entire life story. “I mean, I get it - kinda - but it’s like - Oh shit.”

Stiles knows before he looks to see what she’s staring at just over his head. He knows before the door falls shut again. He knows before he realizes he can hear the door fall shut because it’s now silent - the entire bar.

“Jesus Christ,” the old guy mutters across the bar, and Stiles spins around, smile wide as he waves.

“Hey, Scotty!”

Scott stands just inside the door, like a deer caught in the headlights, which is probably a fitting metaphor right now. He blinks rapidly as he takes in the crowd of stares, all directed at him, and then he ducks his head and gazes down at his feet as he walks quickly to the empty stool beside Stiles’s. Derek has a tendency to square his shoulders and set his jaw now, a silent threat of what he’s capable of becoming, but Scott’s the opposite. He shrinks down into a form so human, no one would know if this entire mess hadn’t made him its poster child.

“Hey, y’know, next time?” Stiles says as he slaps his best friend on the back before he’s even sitting. “Maybe leave your scarlet L at home?”

Scott glares in his direction before starting to shrug his jacket off. His arm is almost free when that same blonde coed is back at their side, eyes even wider than before.

“Oh. My. God,” she sighs. Her face is so pale, Stiles worries that she might pass out. But then she squeals and grabs the bar, just shy of Scott’s elbow. “You’re Scott McCall!”

“No.” Stiles immediately leans back as far as he can, holding onto the bar to steady his stool that’s now balanced on its back two legs so he can see around Scott to the girl. “No, you can’t get a picture. No, he can’t do the thing with his eyes. No, he’s not going to show you his fangs or his claws. No, he’s never met Michael J. Fox, Michael Sheen, or Jack Nicholson, so he didn’t help them rehearse for the role. No, you don’t get to know if he’s single or dating or into humans.” Stiles pants as he finishes his rant, stopping to take a deep breath before he asks, “Any other questions?”

Her face quickly turns from alabaster white to bright red. At first, she looks like she might actually cry, but then she shakes her head as she takes a step back, directly into the arms of one of her friends who whispers something in her ear, carefully raising her voice for just the word asshole.

“Thank you,” Stiles says with a wave of his hand. He watches the girls turn back around and retreat to their table before he rocks his stool back to its steady base with a sigh. But as soon as he looks away from the girls, he’s met with Scott’s judgemental stare. Stiles sighs again. “What?”

“You couldn’t have been nicer to her?” he asks, voice hushed.

“You’re not a celebrity! You’re just… fighting the legal battle of the century.”

“It’s not the legal battle of the century,” Scott corrects in a mumble under his breath. He tries to stare straight ahead, but Stiles can see the way his eyes occasionally dart over to the elderly men who throw down a wad of cash and leave without another word. To the woman a little ways down the bar who’s stood up and stands behind the man she’s with now, knuckles white as she grips his shoulder while they wait for their bill. To the college girls who can’t stop gawking and whispering, like he’s Ryan Gosling or something. Eventually, he settles for staring up at the TV, where the evening news has thankfully moved on to recapping Game 3.

“Well, you made the news again tonight,” Stiles says with a sweep of his beer bottle in the direction of the TV. Scott looks back over at him with concern in his eyes, and Stiles rushes to correct himself. “The case did, I mean. Some asshat in a suit trying to argue that if Derek’s marriage is legal in Georgia, then some loser living in his mom’s basement might try to marry his pet fish.”

Scott turns his attention back to the TV, but there’s a tension in his shoulders now, fist clenched at his side. “Swinton,” he mutters, voice dropping a little quieter. Stiles raises an eyebrow, not recognizing the name. “Some scientist in Alabama. He’s the one who lobbied for that law that bans blue monkshood but not yellow.”

“So you can’t get drunk, but they can kill you.”

“Right.”

“Fuckers,” Stiles mutters under his breath.

Scott snorts, but sobers quickly with a sigh and a shake of his head. “That doesn’t matter. If we could just get the cagings and the lynchings to be illegal everywhere -”

“-And make sure you guys have basic human rights,” Stiles interjects.

“Just the torture. For now. Then we can worry about everything else.” Scott’s shoulders slump as that newest wave of anger ebbs, and Stiles reaches over to gently squeeze the back of his neck in a comforting gesture. Scott carries a lot of guilt in the space between his shoulders and etched into those new lines around his eyes that no amount of persuasion has helped to lessen in the past few years. He needs this victory more than he’ll admit aloud.

“We’re gonna win,” Stiles says as he squeezes his neck a second time.

Scott’s expression is more grimace than smile and doesn’t come close to meeting his eyes. “Does it count if it feels like this, though?”

Scott’s eyes scan the room, and Stiles’s gaze follows. The bigots and their unwanted commentary are long gone. So is the woman who shook like a leaf and buried her face in her husband’s shoulder when they walked past. The suit is still just sitting there, staring down into his glass of whiskey, but the college girls are crowded around their phones, probably basking in their newfound popularity after tweeting about their encounter. The bartender has moved down the bar, too, busy wiping down glasses as she keeps her distance now, either out of fear or embarrassment. This bar is a microcosm of their entire existence now: a weird mixture of fear, anger, and unwanted attention. There’s no future where Scott McCall doesn’t live on in infamy.

“Hopefully it doesn’t always feel like this,” Stiles offers with a shrug of his shoulders.

Scott’s expression moves a little closer to a smile, but there’s a sadness there, too. It makes him look older than his 26 years and more tired than Stiles has seen them awhile. They don’t talk about the casualties of this war they’ve been waging so much anymore, but everyone knows they’re there: Lydia. Issac. Malia. They all carry around battle scars now - lost opportunities, failed careers, doomed relationships, physical wounds, physical losses. Almost a decade of their lives.

It sounds like a cliche, but it started slow, when it did start almost a decade ago. There was a lot of fear after Scott was caught red-eyed and claw-handed in the library. That image stuck while Beacon Hills conveniently forgot Scott McCall saved their collective asses, and that fear bred a lot of hatred in return. Then Davis retracted their offer for Scott’s spot in the Class of

2016. Patients started refusing Melissa’s care. The county filed a lawsuit against Stiles’s dad.

It only got worse when other packs in other states stepped forward in solidarity. Scientists wanted to pull Scott and Derek apart - literally - in their quest for answers. Parents thought they should be locked away, somewhere where they couldn’t succomb to their thirst for blood and try to turn their children. Evangelicals tried exorcisms, which was surprising, considering it was always the Catholics who believed in demonic possession. The first lynching happened in Oklahoma. The cages first appeared in Tennessee. Ohio’s courts had to step in before hospitals stopped inflicting pain on newborn babies to see if they would shift. (That was almost five years ago, and no one has yet to confirm what happened to the babies that did shift.)

And that wasn’t even the worst of it. The worst of it was a domino effect leading back to here. Their legal battle started when Lahey’s Law was declared unconstitutional by the Michigan Supreme Court. It took three years before they went to trial. It was another two after that before Michigan, with Texas’s support, earned an appeal. And now, a year later, a final appeal to the Supreme Court.

They know the odds. Lydia memorized them first, but they can all recite them now: 15,000 cases apply, and the court can hear 100 at most. Certiorari is a part of Stiles’s every day vocabulary, Derek knows the justices’ decision records like other people know athletes’ stats, Scott has three lawyers on his speed dial. Stiles’s dad had asked how he was feeling after one of those first meetings with the lawyers, back when the loft was sufficient enough for strategizing and combing over evidence, and Stiles had said Like I should’ve paid better attention in Civics.

“Okay,” Stiles says now as he drums the top of the bar, pushing aside thoughts of their impending court case. “What do you got for me this time?” Scott looks a little startled by the question, and Stiles can’t help but smile. “What? You thought I thought you wanted to meet just because? So you can get a buzz via osmosis?” Stiles raises his beer in a solo toast before taking a drink.

Scott’s eyes dart around the room, and Stiles’s eyes follow, but it’s still just the guy in the suit, the girls huddled around their phones, the bartender who is obviously keeping her distance now. “I thought you said this place was empty,” Scott sighs.

“Yeah, well, you didn’t give me a whole lot of notice.” The timestamp on Scott’s Meet @ 8? Somewhere between? reads three hours ago, and Stiles is still just learning what exists between his hometown and San Francisco, his current home. “Plus, this is still better than the zoo your place is,” he adds, picturing the mess of reporters perpetually camped outside Scott’s Beacon Hills home. “It’s starting to look like you’re giving the Kardashians a run for their money.”

Scott ducks his head again, face suddenly read. “Someone wants to do a reality show.”

“No shit?” Stiles asks, brows raised. Scott nods. “I swear to god, I’ll kill you.”

Scott groans, but doesn’t bother to respond - they both already know the negative press outweighs whatever coverage would do to humanize the pack - as he reaches back behind him instead, fishing in the pocket of his jacket. A few seconds later, he pulls his hand free holding a photo that he slides across the bar.

In front of him, Stiles finds a young couple with wide smiles and a toddler balanced on the woman’s hip. He’s about Scott’s height with lighter hair and his arm looped around the woman’s waist. Her blonde hair falls just past her shoulders in soft curls, and the flash of the camera reflects in her hazel eyes in a way that makes them look almost amber, a color Stiles knows by heart. The toddler stares back at Stiles with matching eyes, clutching a fistful of her mother’s shirt, until Stiles’s chest physically starts to ache, and he has to flip the picture over. On the back, he finds writing:

Brendan Roades, 34

Callista Roades, 31

Poppy Roades, 3

“She’s a friend of Hannah’s, from the Michigan pack,” Scott explains as Stiles stares down at the list of names and ages until his eyes water. “She moved to Texas when she got married, but Hannah stayed in touch. I guess they mostly kept to themselves till a couple weeks ago when the baby shifted in public. And Texas -”

“Fuck,” Stiles cuts him off. “They’re gonna take the baby. The fucking government can take her because of that bullshit law and make her their little science experiment.”

“Which is why they left.” Stiles’s head snaps back up, staring at his friend in confusion. “Callista called Hannah, asked if it was safe to come back. But Hannah lost contact with them somewhere in the middle. That was five days ago.”

Stiles swallows hard as he flips the picture back over, studying their faces again. It’s not the first time Scott’s come to him with a story like this. He’s become the public face of what TIME Magazine has dubbed The WereRevolution, but the McCall pack had made a name for itself in the underground network of packs throughout the U.S. long before this all started. As things have become more complicated, he’s just become their contact more frequently. Neither of them remembers anymore if word got out on its own that a member of the pack now worked for the FBI, or if Scott had said those words in an attempt to provide solace to someone, but this has become their arrangement. Scott collects missing pack members’ stories, and Stiles pulls every string he can.

“They’re probably just holed up somewhere,” Scott says. “Waiting till it’s safe. Till it’s not everywhere.” He jerks his head toward the TV where the ticker tape now reads Viral petition amasses one million signatures in one day demanding NFL test for “weres.” Everywhere. “The Supreme Court’s gonna decide if they’ll hear our case or not any day. Maybe they’re just waiting it out.”

Stiles stares hard at the picture, moving his thumb to cover up the small child and her wide, innocent smile. The first time Scott handed him a photo like this, it took Stiles a week to connect the missing werewolf to a suicide that happened a week after cable networks started running ads for wolfsbane bullets. Two weeks ago, it was the victim of a hate crime in a state that hasn’t adopted Lahey’s Law, so no arrest was made.

Stiles sets the picture back down, revealing the toddler and her tiny fist, holding on for dear life. He reaches over to squeeze Scott’s shoulder just a little too hard. “We’ll find them.”

#because i only have wips right now #but this one won't leave me alone #teen wolf #stiles stilinski #scott mccall #malia tate #stiles x malia #stalia #stalia ff #my fic

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