I HAVE A PERMIT.

y’allst………….. i already have a starter call up but !!! if any mutuals want to add me on discord @ scottmccall#4242 or people want to im me on here to plot stuff that’s a-okay. i’ll be around, maybe bouncing between blogs.

“easier said than done.   i don’t wanna be the last one of my friends stuck in high school.”       malia’s fingers tap lightly at the edge of the glass,   and it’s probably a good thing her dad can’t smell worry   -   because it’s radiating off of her.       “if you look,   can you like   –   not tell me if they’re really bad?    just.    let me go on not knowing for ONE DAY whether my future’s completely screwed and i’ve got too much work in front of me?”

unlike the vast majority of his friends, stiles doesn’t have a fancy way of communicating with dogs. so, instead of flashing his eyes and growling, he sits. he waits. he exhales, when apollo doesn’t deem him worthy of growling at, himself. ( because that would be the last straw, wouldn’t it? he’d be thrown out of the house, a la uncle phil. ) when henry appears, burnt breakfast in hand, stiles stares down. oh, how he’d love a glass or milk. but… is this another tate test™? “no, thanks.” he says, tentatively taking a bite. no utensils required. “i prefer my waffles dry.” fuck. “for eating.” fuck. “i have sensitive teeth.”

he makes a few more waffles for stiles, the next ones are only a little brown. then he’s serving some dog food in apollo’s bowl and giving him some fresh water. after, henry takes the seat across the small circular table from stiles. “well, there’s some if you want,” he offers, absolutely no judgement in his voice. he goes ahead and smears his waffles in butter and pours a decent amount of maple syrup on them. lips pursed, he fills himself a tall glass of milk as he tries to sound casual and almost stern at the same time ( now there’s that judgement in his tone abd face). “you’re not going to say grace?”