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cell phone
Jul. 14th, 2020 09:40 amOh, it beeped. What the hell am I even supposed to say? I only got this because you told me to, no one said I had to record—
kevin: no but for real though
Jun. 26th, 2015 08:19 pmMalia will be the first to admit that she doesn't understand people. Even after all this time in Darrow, around humans constantly and no longer chasing the supernatural or running for her life, human culture is something that eludes her.
Kevin's voicemails are no different. And the flower dog is just . . . weird. But kind of cute. She stares at it from her spot on her bed. It's sitting on her dresser, facing her with its manufactured eyes. She looks down at her phone, then finally grabs it. She stares at Kevin's phone number for a minute or two.
"I'm being stupid, " she grumbles to herself. With a huff, she climbs off her bed, gathers her things, and heads out the door.
It's not hard to find Kevin's scent. She's been practicing. Her time with Derek has been paying off. And it helps that Kevin is everywhere, all the time. Following the scent, though, is a different matter, and she finds herself ready to give up before she realizes she's at his apartment building. She looks at the little name plates and finds his. Tenth floor.
She jams her finger against the buzzer for a long, solid thirty seconds.
Kevin's voicemails are no different. And the flower dog is just . . . weird. But kind of cute. She stares at it from her spot on her bed. It's sitting on her dresser, facing her with its manufactured eyes. She looks down at her phone, then finally grabs it. She stares at Kevin's phone number for a minute or two.
"I'm being stupid, " she grumbles to herself. With a huff, she climbs off her bed, gathers her things, and heads out the door.
It's not hard to find Kevin's scent. She's been practicing. Her time with Derek has been paying off. And it helps that Kevin is everywhere, all the time. Following the scent, though, is a different matter, and she finds herself ready to give up before she realizes she's at his apartment building. She looks at the little name plates and finds his. Tenth floor.
She jams her finger against the buzzer for a long, solid thirty seconds.
derek: like a river on fire
Jun. 9th, 2015 07:45 pmdated: June 2, 2015, late evening
Last month, Malia had felt frustrated and annoyed that she couldn't grasp the concept of a full shift. She'd done it before, hadn't she? She'd lived that way! So why can't she do it now?
When she'd first told Stiles she'd help him, it had been under the ultimatum that he would find her someone to help her achieve a full shift so she could return to life in the woods. She hadn't expected to fall in love with him. It had completely derailed her plans.
And then Darrow had happened.
But now, she and Derek have discovered they're somehow family, and she's slowly learning what that means. It's not an easy thing for her. The last concept of family she'd had, it had been Henry Tate and their rocky, tense relationship. She'd rather be alone than have that. For awhile, that's what'd happened.
But things are different now. Now, she stands in the trees close to Derek's house, near the man who is somehow related to her: her cousin, her uncle, her nephew, she doesn't know. Although full moons themselves have gotten easier to deal with, Malia still leaves the house during them. Her roommates still don't know about her secret, and they seem forgiving when she gets snappy with them before sunset. If they've figured it out, they're keeping quiet, which is fine by Malia.
"This isn't going to work," she says, just like she had at the end of the night during the last full moon. She sounds irritated, but even she doesn't know if it's because of the moon or the situation. "I broke my shifting thing in my brain." That has to be it. Why else would it be so difficult?
Last month, Malia had felt frustrated and annoyed that she couldn't grasp the concept of a full shift. She'd done it before, hadn't she? She'd lived that way! So why can't she do it now?
When she'd first told Stiles she'd help him, it had been under the ultimatum that he would find her someone to help her achieve a full shift so she could return to life in the woods. She hadn't expected to fall in love with him. It had completely derailed her plans.
And then Darrow had happened.
But now, she and Derek have discovered they're somehow family, and she's slowly learning what that means. It's not an easy thing for her. The last concept of family she'd had, it had been Henry Tate and their rocky, tense relationship. She'd rather be alone than have that. For awhile, that's what'd happened.
But things are different now. Now, she stands in the trees close to Derek's house, near the man who is somehow related to her: her cousin, her uncle, her nephew, she doesn't know. Although full moons themselves have gotten easier to deal with, Malia still leaves the house during them. Her roommates still don't know about her secret, and they seem forgiving when she gets snappy with them before sunset. If they've figured it out, they're keeping quiet, which is fine by Malia.
"This isn't going to work," she says, just like she had at the end of the night during the last full moon. She sounds irritated, but even she doesn't know if it's because of the moon or the situation. "I broke my shifting thing in my brain." That has to be it. Why else would it be so difficult?
open to all: shopping is the worst
Jan. 15th, 2015 12:37 pmdated: January 15, 2015
The thing about being hungry all the time is that it means all of Malia's food is pretty much gone. Which is how she finds herself standing in the pasta aisle, trying to find something worth buying. She has a shopping cart, and all it has in it is a carton of eggs, a bottled water that she's drank half of, and a box of baking soda because the fridge has started to give off a weird odor.
Malia's pretty sure she's got exactly nothing she can use to make a meal, and she's not entirely sure where to continue from here.
She sighs. She wishes she had help. Malia's pretty sure that without some sort of intervention, she's just going to buy one of everything in the store and go from there, which she's rational enough to know that that's not a good idea.
So she pulls out her phone and punches out a text to one of her friends:
Grosseries are hard help this sucks
[ find Malia in any Target-like store of your choice, at a time when it's convenient for your pup to be there. Assume she sent you the text, or already be there shopping. She definitely needs help shopping in her stupid hungry boy body. ]
The thing about being hungry all the time is that it means all of Malia's food is pretty much gone. Which is how she finds herself standing in the pasta aisle, trying to find something worth buying. She has a shopping cart, and all it has in it is a carton of eggs, a bottled water that she's drank half of, and a box of baking soda because the fridge has started to give off a weird odor.
Malia's pretty sure she's got exactly nothing she can use to make a meal, and she's not entirely sure where to continue from here.
She sighs. She wishes she had help. Malia's pretty sure that without some sort of intervention, she's just going to buy one of everything in the store and go from there, which she's rational enough to know that that's not a good idea.
So she pulls out her phone and punches out a text to one of her friends:
Grosseries are hard help this sucks
[ find Malia in any Target-like store of your choice, at a time when it's convenient for your pup to be there. Assume she sent you the text, or already be there shopping. She definitely needs help shopping in her stupid hungry boy body. ]
open to all: on the home front
Jan. 14th, 2015 12:00 pmdated: January 14, 2015
Malia wakes up on day three of her new body, and the first thing she does is groan, because she's still a boy. It's annoying only because it's not how she's supposed to be. It's not like life is suddenly a great hardship because her body changed. It's more just that the change is an inconvenience to her life.
She'd called out of work yesterday, because the first time she'd gone in, one of the servers had groped her crotch on her way by the big sinks. Malia had been torn between awkward-boner and wanting to break the girl's hand off, and she still doesn't know how she feels about it, two days later. So she'd called out yesterday, and she's calling out today, and she's going to keep calling out until she changes back. It's irritating, but she'll deal with it.
With a groan, she rolls out of bed and grabs an armful of clothes, then wanders to the bathroom so she can shower. Those are definitely more interesting lately, that's for sure. But she refrains from touching her weird, stupid dick and instead lathers on the men's deodorant she'd bought. She has a weird scent now, and she thinks it's because she's a boy. The deodorant helps.
Once she's dressed, she shuffles her way to the kitchen, a broody little frown on her face. She's starving — something else that's gotten worse now that she's a boy. She's always hungry. She shoves some bread in the toaster, then grabs the eggs from the fridge and pulls the frying pan out so she can start cooking those.
[ open to everyone Malia knows! Find her fresh out of the shower, hangry and making breakfast, or catch her later in the afternoon; whichever is convenient for your pup! Feel free to assume that they got ahold of her via text to make sure she's available, or something :3 ]
Malia wakes up on day three of her new body, and the first thing she does is groan, because she's still a boy. It's annoying only because it's not how she's supposed to be. It's not like life is suddenly a great hardship because her body changed. It's more just that the change is an inconvenience to her life.
She'd called out of work yesterday, because the first time she'd gone in, one of the servers had groped her crotch on her way by the big sinks. Malia had been torn between awkward-boner and wanting to break the girl's hand off, and she still doesn't know how she feels about it, two days later. So she'd called out yesterday, and she's calling out today, and she's going to keep calling out until she changes back. It's irritating, but she'll deal with it.
With a groan, she rolls out of bed and grabs an armful of clothes, then wanders to the bathroom so she can shower. Those are definitely more interesting lately, that's for sure. But she refrains from touching her weird, stupid dick and instead lathers on the men's deodorant she'd bought. She has a weird scent now, and she thinks it's because she's a boy. The deodorant helps.
Once she's dressed, she shuffles her way to the kitchen, a broody little frown on her face. She's starving — something else that's gotten worse now that she's a boy. She's always hungry. She shoves some bread in the toaster, then grabs the eggs from the fridge and pulls the frying pan out so she can start cooking those.
[ open to everyone Malia knows! Find her fresh out of the shower, hangry and making breakfast, or catch her later in the afternoon; whichever is convenient for your pup! Feel free to assume that they got ahold of her via text to make sure she's available, or something :3 ]
She feels it before she really consciously acknowledges it. With a snarl, Malia finds a quiet corner. It isn't easy, in a crowded place like this. She huddles against the wall, taking deep breaths to try to calm herself.
Control. Acceptance. Release.
She can do this. She's fine. She doesn't need to bury the coyote inside her. She is the coyote. She's alright.
But it's her fear of hurting people that prevents Malia from centering herself. There are so many people here, and she's so strong, and so hungry.
She feels her face change, feels her claws grow, and she snarls to herself. Control. Acceptance. Release.
Control. Acceptance. Release.
She can do this. She's fine. She doesn't need to bury the coyote inside her. She is the coyote. She's alright.
But it's her fear of hurting people that prevents Malia from centering herself. There are so many people here, and she's so strong, and so hungry.
She feels her face change, feels her claws grow, and she snarls to herself. Control. Acceptance. Release.
Malia isn't sure how this is happening. She's never been rooted to the spot before. It's like she's got this wall on every side, invisible but present, holding her in place. She looks around, gauging her own strength, and growls a little, deep in her belly, when she tries — and fails — to break free. She's sure it's some kind of magic at work. She knows the Darach could probably have done something like this, even though she hadn't been around for that.
Her eyes flash blue as she tries to struggle, but nothing happens. She feels her teeth and claws grow. No. No, not here. Malia takes a deep breath and tries to will them away. It isn't easy. She's nervous — almost afraid — and it's hard to control herself enough as it is.
Control. Acceptance. Release.
She's alright. She's fine. Whatever this is, it isn't harmful. Yet. She just needs to calm down. Control. Acceptance. Release.. Malia closes her eyes and takes a deep, slow breath through her nose. She can smell all of the people and food around her. She can smell her friends. It's soothing. She's with people she can trust.
She feels her claws retract, and her fangs follow suit. Her eyes are still vibrantly blue when she opens them, but even that fades a little when she looks around again.
"Um. A little help?" she asks.
Her eyes flash blue as she tries to struggle, but nothing happens. She feels her teeth and claws grow. No. No, not here. Malia takes a deep breath and tries to will them away. It isn't easy. She's nervous — almost afraid — and it's hard to control herself enough as it is.
Control. Acceptance. Release.
She's alright. She's fine. Whatever this is, it isn't harmful. Yet. She just needs to calm down. Control. Acceptance. Release.. Malia closes her eyes and takes a deep, slow breath through her nose. She can smell all of the people and food around her. She can smell her friends. It's soothing. She's with people she can trust.
She feels her claws retract, and her fangs follow suit. Her eyes are still vibrantly blue when she opens them, but even that fades a little when she looks around again.
"Um. A little help?" she asks.
Between Coraline, Derek, and America, Malia's gotten most of her things settled in, and some of the rooms have been cleaned with the natural cleaning solution that Coraline had introduced. There's a couch in the main living room, opposite her TV and DVD player. Her bedroom is more or less furnished, but the other rooms are empty. The rest will have to come from her two new roommates.
That's right: two. Malia hadn't expected that, but it had worked out, and now, she's got two people to live with, to share the cost of rent with. And they're going to be here soon, to help get their things settled in and the bedrooms cleaned. As it stands, the house is looking more patchwork than not. Bits of wood that are newer, or even brand new, stand out starkly against the fading paint both inside and out. She'll have to cover it up with paint, but at least she's got plenty. In fact, she's got so much exterior paint that she doesn't know what to do with it. She just hopes it works.
She's got a bunch of different colors. She has no idea what her roommates will like, so she'd gotten options. The hardware store had told her that she could return what they don't use, because they donate it to churches and homeless shelters that need paint jobs. At least she'll get her money back.
She has paint for the inside, too. Her room is almost done, actually. She'd used a pretty, bright greenish blue that reminds her of the nearby river in the woods behind the house, when the sun hits it just right. She still has one wall to paint, but she'd needed to get away from the fumes, so she figures she can help Dany and Zuko move their things in while she waits for them to dissipate.
This place is almost home. It already feels like it. She stands outside to wait for them, taking in the sight of the building. It still needs work. The electrician has come and gone, so at least the lights don't flicker anymore. The flagstones that make up the front walk and the walkway around the back are much nicer looking, now that they're cleaned and the weeds plucked out. The front step is a little wobbly where she's got a few wood bricks holding one side up, but she's going to make Derek help her with that, she decides.
There's some pretty, creeping ivy growing tall up the side of the house. Malia feels guilty, but she's pretty sure it's going to have to come down when they paint. Maybe it'll grow back. Maybe she can ask Coraline to help her make sure it does. It adds a nice touch to the place, she thinks.
She looks down the long dirt drive when she hears something. They're coming. She feels a thrill of excitement and nerves at once, moving over to the walkway so she doesn't get in their way.
That's right: two. Malia hadn't expected that, but it had worked out, and now, she's got two people to live with, to share the cost of rent with. And they're going to be here soon, to help get their things settled in and the bedrooms cleaned. As it stands, the house is looking more patchwork than not. Bits of wood that are newer, or even brand new, stand out starkly against the fading paint both inside and out. She'll have to cover it up with paint, but at least she's got plenty. In fact, she's got so much exterior paint that she doesn't know what to do with it. She just hopes it works.
She's got a bunch of different colors. She has no idea what her roommates will like, so she'd gotten options. The hardware store had told her that she could return what they don't use, because they donate it to churches and homeless shelters that need paint jobs. At least she'll get her money back.
She has paint for the inside, too. Her room is almost done, actually. She'd used a pretty, bright greenish blue that reminds her of the nearby river in the woods behind the house, when the sun hits it just right. She still has one wall to paint, but she'd needed to get away from the fumes, so she figures she can help Dany and Zuko move their things in while she waits for them to dissipate.
This place is almost home. It already feels like it. She stands outside to wait for them, taking in the sight of the building. It still needs work. The electrician has come and gone, so at least the lights don't flicker anymore. The flagstones that make up the front walk and the walkway around the back are much nicer looking, now that they're cleaned and the weeds plucked out. The front step is a little wobbly where she's got a few wood bricks holding one side up, but she's going to make Derek help her with that, she decides.
There's some pretty, creeping ivy growing tall up the side of the house. Malia feels guilty, but she's pretty sure it's going to have to come down when they paint. Maybe it'll grow back. Maybe she can ask Coraline to help her make sure it does. It adds a nice touch to the place, she thinks.
She looks down the long dirt drive when she hears something. They're coming. She feels a thrill of excitement and nerves at once, moving over to the walkway so she doesn't get in their way.
derek hale:
Oct. 16th, 2014 02:36 pmTimed: October 7th, 2014
The farmhouse is worse than Malia had expected. There are bits of wall rotted out, and she needs an entire new door for the back. The hinges on the cellar door are rusty, too, but she doesn't know where to get replacements for those.
She chases a family of raccoons out of one of the second floor bedrooms, snarling as they chatter at her. They left their stinky musk all around the room, and ruined the mattress. She grabs it and drags it downstairs and out the front door with a little grimace.
"Ugh," she mumbles. She brushes her hands together and shakes them, like she can shake the scent off. "Gotta add that to the list," she tells herself.
Resolved, she pulls her hair back and ties it into a messy bun at the back of her head. She can do this.
The farmhouse is worse than Malia had expected. There are bits of wall rotted out, and she needs an entire new door for the back. The hinges on the cellar door are rusty, too, but she doesn't know where to get replacements for those.
She chases a family of raccoons out of one of the second floor bedrooms, snarling as they chatter at her. They left their stinky musk all around the room, and ruined the mattress. She grabs it and drags it downstairs and out the front door with a little grimace.
"Ugh," she mumbles. She brushes her hands together and shakes them, like she can shake the scent off. "Gotta add that to the list," she tells herself.
Resolved, she pulls her hair back and ties it into a messy bun at the back of her head. She can do this.
Timed: September 23, 2014
Malia had texted Stiles a few times. She feels nervous now, as she sits in Bologna Bar. It's the worst name for a place, and all she can smell is deli meat, but it was near enough to Dimera to walk to it, and far enough away that she feels comfortable asking him to come here. She doesn't want to upset Derek by talking to him — she's not here to steal him away. She just needs Stiles's help with something.
He thinks like a detective. She needs his brain.
On the little dinette table in front of her, she has a yellow legal pad and two pens, and at the top, she's written Roommate Wanted in big, bold, pointed letters. Now, she's tapping her pen against the pad as she looks around for Stiles.
Bologna Bar. It's one of the only places he'd ever willingly spend money on a bologna sandwich, and Malia had been willing. This is still all weird for him, but he's sure that it's no less for Malia.
He steps into the restaurant and finds Malia, raising a hand in awkward greeting with a smile before he comes over go her table, sitting down across from her and drumming in the table once. "Hey. Did you order?"
"Yeah," she says with a shrug. "I figured you wouldn't mind. They haven't brought it yet, or anything." She closes her eyes, because she realizes as soon as she says it that it's obvious they haven't brought it, since it's not there. There is, however, a glass of icy Dr. Pepper on his side of the table. Malia has ice water, but she hasn't touched it yet.
She got him Dr. Pepper. He notices, but doesn't make it weird by saying anything, just giving her a smile and raising his glass in thanks. "So what're we doing? You're... you want a roommate? Really?"
"There's a house, out by the woods," she says. "It's nice. Out of the way, and there's woods, and it's away from the city, and you and Derek." The last bit pops out. "I mean, it's weird that we share an apartment building, isn't it?" She shrugs. "Anyway, but I can't afford to live out there alone. I don't have a car, or a job, so. I need a roommate."
Malia takes a deep breath and looks down at the page. "I just have no idea how to say that they need to lock me up once a month or I might eat them."
Is it weird? It hasn't been for Stiles, not beyond what he figures is temporary awkwardness, but Malia's been through more than he has. He feels bad about it.
"Well, there's no shortage of people who'd be used to that kind of thing around here," he says, giving her as much of a smile as he can. "You haven't got a hold on it? I can help."
"No," she says. "It's okay." She looks up when a server brings them their plates. She'd ordered Stiles a BLT with extra bacon and mayo, and a side of curly fries. She'd gotten herself a toasted meat-lover's club with cheesy fries. The food smells great. Her stomach growls.
"You've already helped a lot," she clarifies. "It's just . . . better safe than sorry."
"I haven't really helped at all. Other me sounds like he's a pretty cool dude, though..." he trails off, face lighting up at the sandwich.
"And I'm pretty sure you know that you have my undivided attention now." He grabs a couple of curly fries first and eats with gusto.
Malia grins, possibly for the first time in front of this Stiles.
"I was hoping you still liked that, " she says. "And other you is... pretty neat. Um, but, this roommate ad. I was thinking of saying 'Nice farmhouse in the country, but I can't afford it on my own, so someone please be my roommate.' " She looks at him expectantly, eyes big and innocent.
He stares for a moment, a beat longer than he should, then bites his lip, considering.
"Uhhh, you might want to try something less... direct? And more about the kind of person you want to room with?"
Malia considers, then nods. "I want someone who isn't stupid," she says decisively. "Someone who doesn't stink, and doesn't mind that once a month, the moon drives me crazy and they might need to lock me up."
Stiles opens his mouth, then shuts it again. It's not that he doesn't understand the sentiment, but Craigslist and its Darrow counterpart are weird enough without putting stuff like that in the universe.
"...how about you want them to be clean? And, uh... understanding that you have a... condition that needs attention from time to time. "
She watches him steadily, then nods and looks down to write that. Clean. Understanding of condition. She hesitates.
"Also, enjoys the countryside?" she asks hopefully. She's trying.
"Enjoys the countryside! Yes. Perfect, good." Oh thank god. Stiles has never had to write one of these himself, so even if him writing the ad would've kept Malia from sounding like a serial killer, that's still not exactly "perfect roommate" material.
"So you're, uh. You're moving out?" He gets it. Like, it makes a lot of sense. He's just grown fond of the apartments, weirdly enough.
"I want to," she says. "It's just too . . . middle-city for my taste, I guess. I mean, the park isn't so far, that's good, it's just." She shrugs. "Cramped?" She doesn't add that every now and then, she gets a whiff of Stiles and Derek through the floor vents, or the open windows. She lives above them, and heat rises, and yeah. It's added to a certain lack of comfort for her.
She taps her pen against the pad again, then sets it down and focuses on her sandwich. After the first few bites, she tucks her food into her cheek so she can talk a little without flashing food.
"I need a job, too," she adds. "But I figured I'd try to find a roommate, first." She doesn't see the point in getting a job if she can't even get the place she wants.
"The job wouldn't suck either way. What they give us isn't much, at least I don't think? And maybe you could save up enough for a bigger place, you know? Room for you, room for the uh, roomie." It's not a problem he's ever come across, but honestly, he figures Malia might be better off if she had something to do.
She nods and swallows, then sips her water and wipes her face with a napkin. "What if someone takes the farmhouse I want?" she asks. "Before I can save up, I mean." She knows the obvious answer: she's not allowed to fight them for it. But she really likes the place she's found.
She grabs her pen and writes no pets. After another moment, she turns the period into a comma and adds please next to it. She's had enough bad experiences with people's pets, thanks to being a coyote.
"Then you gotta find another place. No deathmatches, right?" It's a light teasing, but of course he means it. He gets it, though, he thinks. Malia is still working on adjusting - Ms. Morrell probably calls it transitioning or something back home - and he's been helping. Other him. And now Malia is stuck with him.
He takes a healthy/bigger than healthy bite of his sandwich, grumbling his appreciation.
Malia smiles a little at the noises he makes. Then she feigns a sigh. "Fine, no deathmatches." She actually sounds like she's teasing back. Then she bites her lip and looks down. "Um. Thank you. For your help."
Malia had texted Stiles a few times. She feels nervous now, as she sits in Bologna Bar. It's the worst name for a place, and all she can smell is deli meat, but it was near enough to Dimera to walk to it, and far enough away that she feels comfortable asking him to come here. She doesn't want to upset Derek by talking to him — she's not here to steal him away. She just needs Stiles's help with something.
He thinks like a detective. She needs his brain.
On the little dinette table in front of her, she has a yellow legal pad and two pens, and at the top, she's written Roommate Wanted in big, bold, pointed letters. Now, she's tapping her pen against the pad as she looks around for Stiles.
Bologna Bar. It's one of the only places he'd ever willingly spend money on a bologna sandwich, and Malia had been willing. This is still all weird for him, but he's sure that it's no less for Malia.
He steps into the restaurant and finds Malia, raising a hand in awkward greeting with a smile before he comes over go her table, sitting down across from her and drumming in the table once. "Hey. Did you order?"
"Yeah," she says with a shrug. "I figured you wouldn't mind. They haven't brought it yet, or anything." She closes her eyes, because she realizes as soon as she says it that it's obvious they haven't brought it, since it's not there. There is, however, a glass of icy Dr. Pepper on his side of the table. Malia has ice water, but she hasn't touched it yet.
She got him Dr. Pepper. He notices, but doesn't make it weird by saying anything, just giving her a smile and raising his glass in thanks. "So what're we doing? You're... you want a roommate? Really?"
"There's a house, out by the woods," she says. "It's nice. Out of the way, and there's woods, and it's away from the city, and you and Derek." The last bit pops out. "I mean, it's weird that we share an apartment building, isn't it?" She shrugs. "Anyway, but I can't afford to live out there alone. I don't have a car, or a job, so. I need a roommate."
Malia takes a deep breath and looks down at the page. "I just have no idea how to say that they need to lock me up once a month or I might eat them."
Is it weird? It hasn't been for Stiles, not beyond what he figures is temporary awkwardness, but Malia's been through more than he has. He feels bad about it.
"Well, there's no shortage of people who'd be used to that kind of thing around here," he says, giving her as much of a smile as he can. "You haven't got a hold on it? I can help."
"No," she says. "It's okay." She looks up when a server brings them their plates. She'd ordered Stiles a BLT with extra bacon and mayo, and a side of curly fries. She'd gotten herself a toasted meat-lover's club with cheesy fries. The food smells great. Her stomach growls.
"You've already helped a lot," she clarifies. "It's just . . . better safe than sorry."
"I haven't really helped at all. Other me sounds like he's a pretty cool dude, though..." he trails off, face lighting up at the sandwich.
"And I'm pretty sure you know that you have my undivided attention now." He grabs a couple of curly fries first and eats with gusto.
Malia grins, possibly for the first time in front of this Stiles.
"I was hoping you still liked that, " she says. "And other you is... pretty neat. Um, but, this roommate ad. I was thinking of saying 'Nice farmhouse in the country, but I can't afford it on my own, so someone please be my roommate.' " She looks at him expectantly, eyes big and innocent.
He stares for a moment, a beat longer than he should, then bites his lip, considering.
"Uhhh, you might want to try something less... direct? And more about the kind of person you want to room with?"
Malia considers, then nods. "I want someone who isn't stupid," she says decisively. "Someone who doesn't stink, and doesn't mind that once a month, the moon drives me crazy and they might need to lock me up."
Stiles opens his mouth, then shuts it again. It's not that he doesn't understand the sentiment, but Craigslist and its Darrow counterpart are weird enough without putting stuff like that in the universe.
"...how about you want them to be clean? And, uh... understanding that you have a... condition that needs attention from time to time. "
She watches him steadily, then nods and looks down to write that. Clean. Understanding of condition. She hesitates.
"Also, enjoys the countryside?" she asks hopefully. She's trying.
"Enjoys the countryside! Yes. Perfect, good." Oh thank god. Stiles has never had to write one of these himself, so even if him writing the ad would've kept Malia from sounding like a serial killer, that's still not exactly "perfect roommate" material.
"So you're, uh. You're moving out?" He gets it. Like, it makes a lot of sense. He's just grown fond of the apartments, weirdly enough.
"I want to," she says. "It's just too . . . middle-city for my taste, I guess. I mean, the park isn't so far, that's good, it's just." She shrugs. "Cramped?" She doesn't add that every now and then, she gets a whiff of Stiles and Derek through the floor vents, or the open windows. She lives above them, and heat rises, and yeah. It's added to a certain lack of comfort for her.
She taps her pen against the pad again, then sets it down and focuses on her sandwich. After the first few bites, she tucks her food into her cheek so she can talk a little without flashing food.
"I need a job, too," she adds. "But I figured I'd try to find a roommate, first." She doesn't see the point in getting a job if she can't even get the place she wants.
"The job wouldn't suck either way. What they give us isn't much, at least I don't think? And maybe you could save up enough for a bigger place, you know? Room for you, room for the uh, roomie." It's not a problem he's ever come across, but honestly, he figures Malia might be better off if she had something to do.
She nods and swallows, then sips her water and wipes her face with a napkin. "What if someone takes the farmhouse I want?" she asks. "Before I can save up, I mean." She knows the obvious answer: she's not allowed to fight them for it. But she really likes the place she's found.
She grabs her pen and writes no pets. After another moment, she turns the period into a comma and adds please next to it. She's had enough bad experiences with people's pets, thanks to being a coyote.
"Then you gotta find another place. No deathmatches, right?" It's a light teasing, but of course he means it. He gets it, though, he thinks. Malia is still working on adjusting - Ms. Morrell probably calls it transitioning or something back home - and he's been helping. Other him. And now Malia is stuck with him.
He takes a healthy/bigger than healthy bite of his sandwich, grumbling his appreciation.
Malia smiles a little at the noises he makes. Then she feigns a sigh. "Fine, no deathmatches." She actually sounds like she's teasing back. Then she bites her lip and looks down. "Um. Thank you. For your help."
Timed: September 8, 2014 (evening/night)
Malia'd felt it all day. Everyone's been talking about the supermoon. She doesn't know what that means, but she can feel it, stronger than ever, like an itch under her skin, in a spot she can't reach. All the day before, it had been like a storm cloud following her around, and she'd felt tense and crabby. It had been worse since waking up, and it had only gotten worse throughout the afternoon. She'd hidden from the city for the sake of not burning what tenuous bridges she already has, but now she knows she has to get going. Soon.
Around four that evening, she loads up on protein and carbs to try to stay full. She doesn't want to risk that she'll get hungry halfway through the night: she can just imagine where she'll end up if she does. After her enormous dinner, Malia runs to the barn that she and Charlie had been looking at. She doesn't know if it'll be strong enough, but maybe, just maybe, she'll luck out for once. She feels nervous — that's too small of a word, but it works — and her senses are going into overdrive. She wishes her Stiles were here to help. But that isn't an option. Not here.
Malia stumbles as she passes over the city limits. It's later than she'd wanted it to be. She's sweating. She can feel her face changing. She takes a sharp, deep breath when she feels the moon shove through her. She doubles over, hands gripping her knees. She leaves little holes in her jeans where her claws bear in.
"Control is overrated," she growls out. Stiles had said it. It had connected with her. She's not a monster. She doesn't need control. "Control is overrated. It's overrated." She feels her teeth become fangs and snarls. She needs to get moving.
Control. Acceptance. Release.
She's nearly to the edge of the countryside when she smells him. Derek. He's near, but not close enough to see or hear. Malia looks up at the moon. It's close and bright. Its pull is nearly painful: it tugs at her bones like growing pains.
Control. Acceptance. Release.
She needs help. She can't do this alone. She's going to hurt someone. A needy howl rips from her throat. It doesn't have a full lungful of air behind it, but it's still loud and long. It trails off in a single, broken sob. Control. Acceptance. Release. Her eyes are bright blue, and she can see everything as she runs deeper into the trees.
Control. Acceptance. Release. Control. Acceptance. Release . . .
Malia'd felt it all day. Everyone's been talking about the supermoon. She doesn't know what that means, but she can feel it, stronger than ever, like an itch under her skin, in a spot she can't reach. All the day before, it had been like a storm cloud following her around, and she'd felt tense and crabby. It had been worse since waking up, and it had only gotten worse throughout the afternoon. She'd hidden from the city for the sake of not burning what tenuous bridges she already has, but now she knows she has to get going. Soon.
Around four that evening, she loads up on protein and carbs to try to stay full. She doesn't want to risk that she'll get hungry halfway through the night: she can just imagine where she'll end up if she does. After her enormous dinner, Malia runs to the barn that she and Charlie had been looking at. She doesn't know if it'll be strong enough, but maybe, just maybe, she'll luck out for once. She feels nervous — that's too small of a word, but it works — and her senses are going into overdrive. She wishes her Stiles were here to help. But that isn't an option. Not here.
Malia stumbles as she passes over the city limits. It's later than she'd wanted it to be. She's sweating. She can feel her face changing. She takes a sharp, deep breath when she feels the moon shove through her. She doubles over, hands gripping her knees. She leaves little holes in her jeans where her claws bear in.
"Control is overrated," she growls out. Stiles had said it. It had connected with her. She's not a monster. She doesn't need control. "Control is overrated. It's overrated." She feels her teeth become fangs and snarls. She needs to get moving.
Control. Acceptance. Release.
She's nearly to the edge of the countryside when she smells him. Derek. He's near, but not close enough to see or hear. Malia looks up at the moon. It's close and bright. Its pull is nearly painful: it tugs at her bones like growing pains.
Control. Acceptance. Release.
She needs help. She can't do this alone. She's going to hurt someone. A needy howl rips from her throat. It doesn't have a full lungful of air behind it, but it's still loud and long. It trails off in a single, broken sob. Control. Acceptance. Release. Her eyes are bright blue, and she can see everything as she runs deeper into the trees.
Control. Acceptance. Release. Control. Acceptance. Release . . .
(no subject)
Aug. 30th, 2014 06:58 pmTimed: August 19, 2014
She lives in the same damn building as Stiles. She lives right across the hall from Stiles's Dad. It seems wildly unfair, and almost cruel. These people don't know who she is. The lack of recognition when she'd first seen Stiles and even Derek had stung, more than Malia wants to admit.
But she can't let it show.
She stands on the front steps of the apartment building, and stares at the tenant plate by the door for a long time. They're so close together on the list. Derek and Stiles. Malia Tate. Right there, like nothing. She clenches her jaw briefly, then looks down at her weird, creepy folder with her info in it. There, on her City of Darrow ID, is her address. This is the place.
And Derek and Stiles are right there, too.
Instead of going to her apartment, Malia uses her key to unlock the lobby door, then goes to their floor and knocks. There are a lot of reasons she's doing this, and none of them are reasons she really wants to think about right now.
Hey, they should consider themselves lucky that she's not just walking right in, locks and knobs be damned.
Open to: Stiles and Derek! Tagging order should probably be Stiles → Derek → Malia. ST/LT totally welcome!
She lives in the same damn building as Stiles. She lives right across the hall from Stiles's Dad. It seems wildly unfair, and almost cruel. These people don't know who she is. The lack of recognition when she'd first seen Stiles and even Derek had stung, more than Malia wants to admit.
But she can't let it show.
She stands on the front steps of the apartment building, and stares at the tenant plate by the door for a long time. They're so close together on the list. Derek and Stiles. Malia Tate. Right there, like nothing. She clenches her jaw briefly, then looks down at her weird, creepy folder with her info in it. There, on her City of Darrow ID, is her address. This is the place.
And Derek and Stiles are right there, too.
Instead of going to her apartment, Malia uses her key to unlock the lobby door, then goes to their floor and knocks. There are a lot of reasons she's doing this, and none of them are reasons she really wants to think about right now.
Hey, they should consider themselves lucky that she's not just walking right in, locks and knobs be damned.
Open to: Stiles and Derek! Tagging order should probably be Stiles → Derek → Malia. ST/LT totally welcome!