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[originallutece]

is that a motherfucking homestuck reference in the year of our lord 2018

anyway you know the drill voice | video | text | action

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[originallutece]

[God, but that sounds . . . it sounds ideal, honestly. A world in which she could be whatever she wanted, say whatever she wanted to say and wear what she'd like, and yet still succeed? It sounds almost impossible, frankly, and she has her private doubts as to whether Stiles has really grasped the whole truth, but that's a debate that will go nowhere. At least his Lydia had succeeded enough that he hadn't noticed any significant drawbacks.]

It mattered a great deal.

[She says it simply. She'll elaborate if he asks, but--]

You can dress as you like. But I suppose my other point is that . . . it helps to control your reputation, molding it as you like.

[She tips her head, watching him for a few seconds, and then:]

What is it you're alluding at, that sets you apart.

[overshirts]

[ stiles considers his reputation. does he even have one? he's known for being sarcastic, he's known for being smart, a little bit of a mess. distracted, sometimes. logical, practical, as realistic as one can be when your town is a literal supernatural beacon (it's in the name). his reputation is different, depending on who you speak to. jackson would probably say he's an idiot, a nerd, a loser. isaac might say he's weak and annoying. scott might say he's the smartest, funniest guy he knows. his dad might say he's a nuisance, but with a fondness that suggests he loves him for it.

it's all a matter of perspective, and how much he takes to heart.

stiles shrugs. there's no point in arguing this anymore right now. he likes his plaid and his print screen tees and a little judgement from people he likely doesn't know very well isn't really on his radar. ]

Uh, nothing that... spectacular? I mean, like — I have ADHD, for one, so people just assume I'm a - spazz, or whatever. My dad's the sheriff back home, so that automatically makes me a snitch, right? When in reality I've lied to my dad more times than I've probably told him the truth. [ he pauses, doesn't seem particularly proud of that, but then keeps going ] I have anxiety, and sometimes it gets really bad to the point that it interferes with—

[ stiles stops, waves his hand dismissively, leans back into the couch. ]

It's just, lots of stuff. Lots of stigmas, but I know what I'm capable of.