Should ask how the cat feels about roombas, not me. Very real possibility one of them would tear the other the fuck up.
Yes. In that scenario, earth would be a sandwich. An incidental sandwich, but a sandwich all the same. Thank you for contributing. For once.
That's bullshit. It's still a sound. The individual properties of what makes a sound a sound are still the same whether you're there to process them or not. The tree is going to make vibrating air waves whether you're there or not. This isn't, like - okay. Remember how I said your eyes can't read? That your eyes just process information and your brain is what actually reads? We're not eyes for sound. Reading is a human construct. Sound is just a part of the universe. Sound exists outside of us. Our definition of what a sound is has no bearing over sound itself. We didn't create the concept of sound. We're not eyes for sound. Stiles. Let me say it a third time. We are not eyes for sound.
[ stiles tosses the covers aside, kicks his legs a little to free them, and then - gets up and leaves, using the light from his phone to guide his way out of the bedroom. is he going to look for the fucking cat to consult it about vacuum cleaners? maybe.
anyway. he's still texting. ]
All I'm saying is that like. Vibrating molecules are just vibrating molecules. It's only a sound because the molecules vibrate our ear drums which is what sends the signal to the brain and translates the vibration into what we consider to be a sound. But what if we were all deaf? Would a sound be a sound?
There's no air to vibrate. Right? So. Wait. I don't know how space works.
Okay. Shut up. Listen. I can see in the dark. You can't. Pretend you and I were in a room together. A room neither of us had ever been in before. A completely dark, pitch black room. You have no idea what could be in this room. Objects. People. Monsters. Nothing. It could be anything. I can see, with my Legolas elf eyes, the contents of this room. Do the potentially hypothetical contents of this room exist more for me than they do for you? Of course not. We would both potentially trip over the table that may or may not be three hypothetical steps in front of us. It's the same with sound? It still exists, on a very raw, physical level, whether we can perceive of interpret that sound or not. We might not know it's there, and we might not be able to process the information and turn it into something tangible and auditory and, to us, real - But it's still there. The vibrations are still happening. The physical, raw materials of what we interpret as sounds still very much take place as a reaction to whatever produced those vibrations in the first place. Things exist in the metaphorical dark with or without our being there to translate them into something we understand. Right? I'm right. Tell me I'm right.
[ the more he talks about this the less he thinks he's right, ]
[ a laugh comes from somewhere else in the den, followed by 'legolas', murmured quietly, followed by the sound of running water. ]
Okay. You shut up. You listen. Because that's not what I'm saying. I'm not saying the waves suddenly don't exist if someone isn't around. What I'm saying is that WE are what translates the vibrations into an actual sound. So a tree falls in the woods. The motion still vibrates the molecules in the air. But if there isn't something around to process and translate the vibration into something else:
If a tree falls in the woods and no one is around to perceive it as something else other than molecules getting a massage, does it make a sound, or is it just vibrations?
Let's say I'm in your hypothetical dark room and I'm alone and no one else has been inside of it. Let's say I don't move, so I don't interact with anything that may or may not be in the room. Until I personally come in contact with something else, it's Shrodinger's Room, right? I can't know something exists in the room until I have interacted with it in some way.
If you go into this room, and you see everything, and then you come back and tell me "hey, there's a bunch of junk in that room I was just in". I haven't seen it, but you have. You were still there to interact with all that junk. There was still some kind of interaction. If nobody goes in the room, ever. How do we know anything exists at all in the room?
No. I knew that's what you were saying. I just didn't have a counterpoint and had to make some bullshit up. Debate 101, babe.
[ actually "babe" is kind of-- he's never called stiles anything like babe, and now that it's out there, it's kind of weird. maybe bro-y? "babe". jesus, okay, he could spiral over this. he sits up in bed and changes topic before that happens. ]
I just think it's arrogant to say that sounds can only be sounds if we define them as sounds through our own physical translation of airwave vibrations. Pistol shrimp can see a fuckton of colours. Those colours are still there, even if I can't see them. Sounds are still sounds. That's my point. Vibrations are the sound. The word "sound" might just be our way of explaining the phenomenon of those vibrations interacting with us, but those vibrations exist outside of that? We're not the fucking King Lords of Sound Perception. Things still exist even without our influence. If everyone was deaf - if everyone was alone in the dark in Schrodingers room - sounds would still exist, we just wouldn't have a word for them. We wouldn't necessarily say the word "sound" if it was impossible for us to perceive the vibrations in the air. But. It's. Okay. Hold on.
Hold on. Okay. Waveforms. You speak into a microphone, you see your voice translated into waveforms. You'd call that a visual representation of sound, right? Not a visual representation of vibrating airwaves. If you put on headphones, spoke into a microphone, didn't hear yourself speak and didn't play the recording back - you'd look at the waveforms and think - "that's proof of sound". Even before you'd perceived it or interpreted it or anything like that. Right? It's. Sound is sound. Sound is sound? Sound is sound and trees make sounds. If you record a tree falling in the woods, see the waveform and don't listen to the recording, you have proof of a sound. It's still a sound. That's a sound. You don't have to hear it for it to be a sound. It's sound. I'm right. You're not telling me I'm right. Tell me I'm right.
No. Wait. What time is it? Is it too late to order food?
[ there is a - slight pause over 'babe'. … babe is good. he kind of likes babe. not against it. ]
How do recorders actually work though? I'm genuinely asking. Are they just registering the different frequency of vibrations? When you play it back, is it not just the speaker recreating the same vibrations, shaking the molecules in the air that we then perceive with our brains and translate into different sounds? I can do this all day All night, whatever
It's 3:27. I don't know if anything's open. I usually just make PB&J when it's this late. Do you want a PB&J while I'm up?
It's only the wrong side because you perceive it that way. It's just your perspective, babe.
[ sweats? ]
Hold on a second. I swear if I come back and you've taken over Nothing actually, it's fine I don't care.
[ stiles takes a second to refill his cup, then slowly wanders back across the den, a little slower now that he's concerned about spilling and tripping over random shit in the dark. even though he knows there's no random shit for him to trip over.
he's sipping from his cup when he rounds back into the room, but he bends to set it down on the floor by the side of the bed, hikes knee up like he plans to climb over derek instead of walking around, and then he just - bridges himself over his lap instead, letting his hands slide across the covers so his body sinks down and he's draped over derek's legs on his stomach. ]
[ stiles heads back into the room on tiny, less-than-graceful steps, and derek sort of sees what's coming before it happens. he sighs, stretches out his legs so stiles can rest on him more comfortably, and doesn't complain when he gets pinned down. he just...
he sits up, just a little, and reaches out to stroke his fingers through stiles' hair. long and soft and loving. he's still wearing his ring. he keeps texting with his other hand, just - because it's still too late to talk. too tired for his voice to work. ]
[ stiles' phone buzzes from somewhere by his hands where he left it, but he doesn't grab for it at first. it's not secret by now that he's a sucker for physical affection, and fingers in his hair is - probably one of his favorite things, probably one of the easiest and quickest ways to get him to relax. not that he's not relaxed right now, but he becomes more of a deadweight than he already currently is, cheek pressed to the mattress, eyes closed.
his phone buzzes again. stiles cracks his eyes open and slides his hands around until he finds it, dragging it closer. he smiles sleepily, also replying with one hand. ]
I mean You're okay I guess Even when you think you're right.
Sorry you always have such a hard time sleeping. Wish I could do more for you than just brutally eviscerate you in arguments about the definition of sound.
[ and he thinks stiles is probably too sleepy to fuck, which is, like, option B. even though it's been a new month for, like, three hours. quota's ready to be met again. not that he'll say that. not that he's even thinking it? he's, uh. he's happy to just keep playing with stiles' hair. ]
We've probably burned out two truths and a lie. Truth or dare seems boring. Ask me some weird would you rather questions.
[ stiles would... probably be dtf. it'd be super slow and super lazy though and he still probably wouldn't sleep after, so. maybe not worth it? seems like it'd just lead to someone being frustrated. ]
You giving up =/= you brutally eviscerating me. Anyway it's fine. Nothing new. I'll pass tf out in a bowl of cereal unwillingly later or something.
Truth or dare is only boring because you'd just pick dare every single time. Tell me I'm wrong.
Would you rather be able to reverse one decision you make each day or be able to stop time for ten seconds once a day?
I showed you mercy. I didn't give up. Reverse one decision.
[ he tends to make pretty fucking bad decisions. decisions that often fuck literally everything up. he's gonna make stiles dump him because of a shitty decision, one of these days. hey, would you rather isn't a fun game. ]
I was shaking because I was enraged over how stupid you are. Kinda different.
Also I hate you? If I get up and you say JK Murder in this bed.
[ he huffs, loudly, and pointedly takes derek's hand out of his hair so he can get up to make a fucking sandwich he could have made like two minutes ago when he was in the kitchen the first time, but nooo.
stiles rolls over on derek's legs, his back popping quietly, and then he sits up, hunched over his phone as he texts. ]
You're lucky I don't hate you. Like, so lucky it's disgusting. I just laid down. I was comfortable.
[ but he's getting up. he almost kicks over his water, so that's cool, but it's fine. stiles shuffles back out of the room, dragging his ass back to the kitchen. ]
You were shaking because you were a scared baby boy with a truckload of shit in his diaper. But fine. PB&J.
[ god, the urge to say JK once stiles is out of sight is fucking phenomenal, but he lets him go. he doesn't even want a sandwich, really, but he's in too deep now to admit it. sorta just misses feeling stiles' hair between his fingers. sorta just misses not taking the opportunity to dare him to kiss him, corny as that might've been.
whatever. he is pretty fucking hungry. derek sits up in bed, stretching out his legs, making his knees pop. his ankles. ]
Truth. Seems like you're unhappy with my bravery and penchant for diving into the unknown.
[ stiles isn’t going to give derek the pleasure of him acknowledging his dumbass baby comment - mostly because he’s busy taking out the bread and the peanut butter and the jelly. and a knife. and a napkin, fuck plates. he’s super quiet about it though, a habit formed from years of trying not to wake his dad up in the middle of the night.
he leans to read his phone, laying two slices of bread out, but he takes some time to really thinking about something to ask. he gets one slice of bread covered in a thin layer of peanut butter and half of the other side smeared with jelly before he wipes his fingertips and fumbles with his phone. ]
[ derek stretches his arms over his head, then just - sinks further into the mattress. he's not going to go to sleep again, even though he could - but it's nice to just close his eyes and drift off for a second. his phone vibrates and he slaps around the sheets for it, swiping it unlocked and blearily letting his eyes adjust to stiles' last message.
and... it's... confusing. ]
What? Where did that come from?
[ wait - hold on. that's not a no, and apparently he needs to take an emphatically hard stance here? he's not sure if this is a joke, or... what, so he's not sure what tone he's supposed to bring to this, but he is a little worried about what prompted the question. it's very... specific. ]
[ stiles is momentarily distracted by the cat lazily brushing up against his leg, circling around his other one before it wanders off into the dark again. he briefly considers following after it just to pet it a couple times, but he remembers that he's in the middle of making a sandwich - in the middle of a dare. he pick the knife back up, covers what's left of the bread with jelly, and then carefully lays the peanut butter slice over it, lining up the edges.
his phone vibrates on the counter, the sound of it muffled slightly by the folded up napkin pinned underneath it. stiles slices the sandwich into two rectangles, stacks them on top of each other, then picks up his phone. he blinks, eyebrows pulling together. ]
What? No. God, no. She's like - the equivalent of an aunt. No.
[ he pauses to scratch at his eyebrow with his thumb, then start to put everything away, texting one-handed. ]
Sorry, that was kind of out of nowhere. On my birthday, I was texting her about the possibility of not coming into work and she was asking me all kinds of questions and basically wouldn't let me off the hook unless I told her what I was doing that was so important. So I told her it was my birthday and that someone wanted to take me on a date, but I didn't mention you specifically, just. You know. My boyfriend. She kept trying to pry a name out of me so I finally told her because I just wanted to go out with you already. She asked me why I didn't want to name you, so I told her the truth: I wanted to protect our relationship. Our relationship is just... ours, you know? It's not anyone else's business unless we want it to be.
[ stiles tears off another napkin, turns back to the sandwich on the counter, but decides to get the rest of this out while it's on his mind. ]
She said she understood, said something about her... boyfriend? Husband? Back home, and how some people like bragging about their relationship but that she preferred not to. So I was like - okay, hold on. I'll brag about you to anyone who will listen, it's honestly a miracle you like me, have you seen me, have you seen you, blah blah blah. And she said something. Hold on.
"I have indeed seen him. With any luck, it won't be reserved to just looking forever."
And I... thought maybe I misunderstood what she meant, but she just kind of brushed me off when I asked. I don't know. I'd just finished telling her how excited I was to go on a date with my boyfriend and how important it is to me to look after what I've got, and she just... basically was like "that's cool, fingers crossed that I get to fuck him soon", like. It came off like such a sure thing? I mean obviously that's not what she said but that's what it felt like and I guess it's been bugging me for a while. Work kinda sucks now.
Anyway, sorry. It's all really stupid. Should have just picked dare, huh? If you want something to drink with this you can just have some of my water.
[ and maybe less than a minute later, he's padding back into the bedroom with both halves of a sandwich in one hand and a napkin in the other. he seems... mostly okay. just exhausted and maybe mildly embarrassed, a tiny bit anxious, but fine in general. he presses the sandwich and the napkins into derek's hands, leans to press a lingering kiss against his forehead, and then climbs over him into bed, dropping his phone against his chest. he picks it up after a second and sends a quick follow-up. ]
I pick dare only if you're not gonna make me get up again. Otherwise, truth.
[ this is - a lot, and derek's... derek has a dozen different feelings about it all and isn't quite sure where to start. surprise takes the lead. weird, defensive anger comes second. predominantly, though - worry. stiles' birthday was a while ago, and if something's been eating at him since then, he feels like kind of an incompetent boyfriend for not fucking figuring it out. he's supposed to... know him. really know him. he's supposed to be better at understanding people. better at understanding the ones he loves, at least. better than he used to be.
derek takes the kiss without really reacting, just batting his eyes up and watching stiles sink into bed. he draws his legs up, lets him in more easily, and just... fidgets with the napkin around his sandwich. if he wasn't all that hungry before, he's certainly not now. he takes a bite all the same. ]
It's not stupid.
[ he's just - sorry he didn't pick this up sooner. the pb&j feels like cardboard in his mouth, but he takes another bite, dusts his fingers off on his shirt. he looks at stiles for a long little while, trying to decide if this is something to... stop talking about over text, but. maybe the distance helps. maybe the distance is why stiles talked to him about this in the first place. ]
Look - realistically - I know that being exclusive is difficult, in a place like this. This city is... forceful, and it's manipulative. Kate was the same. It's. It is what it is. I get it.
[ it's hard. and he hates it. but he - gets it. on some level. sort of. maybe he doesn't. fuck. he just feels like he's trying to be mature and realistic and sensible when he's not entirely sure he's capable of doing that. he types a few messages, erases them. he rolls on his side, so stiles can't see him type. ]
But I'm not... going to just... Sleep around. I don't want to do that. I want us to feel normal. If you... do anything with anyone... I won't hold it against you? I know you wouldn't do anything to hurt me. I wouldn't do anything to hurt you, either. This city thrives on... on extenuating circumstances, and necessity, and things like that, to get people together. So. I just. No. I'm not going to just... fuck every person who finds me halfway attractive. Rosalind included. But if you end up... trapped in a fucking hotel room with someone, or... or held a gunpoint by another fucking Veracity soldier, or-- or even just... find yourself in a position where you feel like you have to do something with someone... I won't. Hate you. For that. I'll just hate the city.
[ christ this is hard. why the fuck did they play this game. he answers truth by, you know. doubling down on making shit difficult. ]
I know you keep a lot of worries to yourself. Things like this. Maybe things that happened back home. You shoulder shit. It's what you do. But. Is there anything I can do to... make you more comfortable with opening up to me about things that affect you?
[ it's not derek's fault that he hasn't noticed, mostly because there really hasn't been anything to notice. stiles goes to work, where things are fine because he forces them to be, and then he leaves, and before there was a cat in their home there was a cat in the down, and he'd spend an hour after work just kind of - hanging out with it, feeding it while decompressing and letting go of all the bottled up tension and anxiety so he wouldn't bring it home.
it's been bothering him, but he also knows it's stupid, so it - hasn't been bothering him as much as it could if he were less aware. he doesn't think derek is the kind of person to sleep around, he doesn't think derek would do anything to intentionally hurt him. he understands the bullshit ways of this city, the choices people are and aren't given. it was stupid of stiles to ask, and the more he lays here reading through derek's texts, the more embarrassed he feels about the whole thing. god, way to look incredibly insecure.
and now derek thinks he's not comfortable talking to him. so that's great. this is cool. stiles should have just gotten out of bed and moved to the living room and forced himself to watch a movie and just let derek sleep. he sighs, and he turns onto his side to face derek, moving his legs so they touch derek's. the distance does kind of make it easier to just say shit without stumbling over his anxiety, but - he kind of doesn't like the physical distance right now, even if it's minimal. ]
I'm not uncomfortable opening up to you I swear I'm not, I promise I'm not Sometimes I just keep things to myself because I'm aware that whatever's on my mind is stupid. And I'm not saying that so you'll tell me it's not. I know I'm being stupid or paranoid sometimes and there's no point in stressing someone else out over a non-issue. Like this is a non-issue. I know you wouldn't do anything to hurt me. I wouldn't do anything to hurt you. But all of that, everything you just said - that goes for you, too. I won't be mad at you if you're pushed into something, if you have to I don't know, mess around with someone else because this city is a nightmare. Just maybe don't tell me about it? Which I know is kind of selfish of me to ask I mean if you need to talk about something I want you to come to me, I always want you to come to me no matter what But if it's just to tell me that you did whatever with whoever and you liked it I'd just. Rather not know so I don't spend a million years feeling inadequate or whatever Hey this is really Can we go back Scent vs sCent Actually you should probably go back to sleep I didn't mean to wake you up I should have just written all of this in my journal and put on a movie in the living room
[ stiles sighs and tilts back over onto his back. he pulls his legs up so his knees are slightly bent, decides that's not comfortable and slides his legs back out, and then rolls again so he's on his stomach arms outstretched and his chin tucked between them, phone in his hands. ]
[ stiles is shutting down. he's curling in on himself and hiding and saying things about himself that derek kind of hates reading - saying he's stupid, saying he's selfish, worrying about being inadequate against some hypothetical stranger that could never compare to him. derek's uncomfortably still next to him while he reads, and-- honestly, it takes a long time for him to reply. the light on his phone goes dim before he does. ]
It's not selfish, but - I wouldn't do that. I don't want to know, either.
[ that's not true. he'd want to know. of course he'd want to know. he wants to know if stiles has been with anyone now, because he has to have been, at least once. it's just - he'd get jealous, and he'd get angry, and for all the efforts he's trying to make here, all the attempts at maturity and being reasonable and shit like that, he - isn't. mature. he isn't reasonable. someone would get hurt. he would hurt someone over this.
derek drags his hand down his face. he feels sick, and he can't keep eating, so he just... sets his sandwich down on the floor next to stiles' drink. ]
[ even with the brightness turned down, stiles can tell when derek's phone times out by the way the whole room dims just a little more, just a little darker. it - kind of sucks, that derek doesn't say anything back, and it makes him feel a little ill and a lot uncomfortable, but this also isn't really a conversation he wants to have anymore, so he just let's it go. maybe derek's just doing what he said and going back to sleep, which is good. one of them should get a decent night's sleep.
stiles shifts a little, turning over onto his side away from derek, one arm tucked up underneath his pillow, the other curled loosely against his chest. he hears derek shift around slightly, feels the mattress dip a little when he leans to put his sandwich down, but he just assumes it's derek getting comfortable. he's got his eyes closed, so he doesn't notice the light from derek's phone illuminating the room a bit. his phone vibrates by his hand shortly after, and he opens his eyes and picks it up.
stiles takes a second, types out a couple different replies that he immediately deletes because they're all stupid and pointless and he's just. tired. and exhausted. and yes he wants to sleep but he's been trying to sleep for like - four hours now. every since the both of them first crawled into bed for the night. he just. can't. ]
What I want and what I'm gonna get are two different things. I'm awake. You don't have to be. It's okay, I'm fine.
Edited (i'm dumb & fucked around with keywords without checking the little box so heyyy) 2019-05-01 05:26 (UTC)
[ the room is still and dull and quiet for a little while longer, but stiles' last text changes that. it's okay, i'm fine, he says, and derek very pointedly sits up in bed, rustling the sheets and moving the mattress, shifting back until his back's against the wall. he doesn't say anything, but he makes enough of a show of what he's doing to get his point across - he's not going to sleep. ]
I don't want to sleep without you. I can stay awake.
[ stiles doesn't want to talk about this. about any of this. stiles wants to go back to stupid jokes or pretending to be alone or-- or something, and that's fine, they can do that in time, but derek still has more shit he wants to say. if his thumbs tap over his screen more spiritedly than they should this late at night, it's just because he's anxious. ]
I don't think you're stupid. I don't want you to keep anything to yourself. I don't care how small or paranoid your worries might be. We're a team. I want to support you. Through everything. I'll do better about my little things, too. Bring them up more. Like - Like, I'm still worried you think that I think you're messy. Because of the full moon. I don't. I never thought that. I want you to feel comfortable here. I don't want you to feel like you can't leave your shoes wherever you kick them off. I don't want you to worry about hanging up your towel after you use it. I don't mind.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Very real possibility one of them would tear the other the fuck up.
Yes. In that scenario, earth would be a sandwich. An incidental sandwich, but a sandwich all the same.
Thank you for contributing.
For once.
That's bullshit. It's still a sound.
The individual properties of what makes a sound a sound are still the same whether you're there to process them or not. The tree is going to make vibrating air waves whether you're there or not.
This isn't, like - okay.
Remember how I said your eyes can't read? That your eyes just process information and your brain is what actually reads?
We're not eyes for sound. Reading is a human construct. Sound is just a part of the universe. Sound exists outside of us. Our definition of what a sound is has no bearing over sound itself. We didn't create the concept of sound.
We're not eyes for sound. Stiles.
Let me say it a third time.
We are not eyes for sound.
no subject
Brb.
[ stiles tosses the covers aside, kicks his legs a little to free them, and then - gets up and leaves, using the light from his phone to guide his way out of the bedroom. is he going to look for the fucking cat to consult it about vacuum cleaners? maybe.
anyway. he's still texting. ]
All I'm saying is that like.
Vibrating molecules are just vibrating molecules. It's only a sound because the molecules vibrate our ear drums which is what sends the signal to the brain and translates the vibration into what we consider to be a sound.
But what if we were all deaf?
Would a sound be a sound?
no subject
Right? So.
Wait.
I don't know how space works.
Okay. Shut up. Listen.
I can see in the dark.
You can't.
Pretend you and I were in a room together. A room neither of us had ever been in before. A completely dark, pitch black room. You have no idea what could be in this room. Objects. People. Monsters. Nothing. It could be anything.
I can see, with my Legolas elf eyes, the contents of this room.
Do the potentially hypothetical contents of this room exist more for me than they do for you? Of course not. We would both potentially trip over the table that may or may not be three hypothetical steps in front of us.
It's the same with sound?
It still exists, on a very raw, physical level, whether we can perceive of interpret that sound or not.
We might not know it's there, and we might not be able to process the information and turn it into something tangible and auditory and, to us, real -
But it's still there. The vibrations are still happening. The physical, raw materials of what we interpret as sounds still very much take place as a reaction to whatever produced those vibrations in the first place.
Things exist in the metaphorical dark with or without our being there to translate them into something we understand.
Right?
I'm right.
Tell me I'm right.
[ the more he talks about this the less he thinks he's right, ]
no subject
Okay. You shut up. You listen.
Because that's not what I'm saying.
I'm not saying the waves suddenly don't exist if someone isn't around.
What I'm saying is that WE are what translates the vibrations into an actual sound.
So a tree falls in the woods.
The motion still vibrates the molecules in the air.
But if there isn't something around to process and translate the vibration into something else:
If a tree falls in the woods and no one is around to perceive it as something else other than molecules getting a massage, does it make a sound, or is it just vibrations?
Let's say I'm in your hypothetical dark room and I'm alone and no one else has been inside of it. Let's say I don't move, so I don't interact with anything that may or may not be in the room. Until I personally come in contact with something else, it's Shrodinger's Room, right? I can't know something exists in the room until I have interacted with it in some way.
If you go into this room, and you see everything, and then you come back and tell me "hey, there's a bunch of junk in that room I was just in". I haven't seen it, but you have. You were still there to interact with all that junk. There was still some kind of interaction. If nobody goes in the room, ever. How do we know anything exists at all in the room?
Do you want water?
no subject
Debate 101, babe.
[ actually "babe" is kind of-- he's never called stiles anything like babe, and now that it's out there, it's kind of weird. maybe bro-y? "babe". jesus, okay, he could spiral over this. he sits up in bed and changes topic before that happens. ]
I just think it's arrogant to say that sounds can only be sounds if we define them as sounds through our own physical translation of airwave vibrations.
Pistol shrimp can see a fuckton of colours.
Those colours are still there, even if I can't see them.
Sounds are still sounds.
That's my point.
Vibrations are the sound. The word "sound" might just be our way of explaining the phenomenon of those vibrations interacting with us, but those vibrations exist outside of that? We're not the fucking King Lords of Sound Perception.
Things still exist even without our influence. If everyone was deaf - if everyone was alone in the dark in Schrodingers room - sounds would still exist, we just wouldn't have a word for them. We wouldn't necessarily say the word "sound" if it was impossible for us to perceive the vibrations in the air. But. It's.
Okay.
Hold on.
Hold on. Okay.
Waveforms. You speak into a microphone, you see your voice translated into waveforms.
You'd call that a visual representation of sound, right? Not a visual representation of vibrating airwaves.
If you put on headphones, spoke into a microphone, didn't hear yourself speak and didn't play the recording back - you'd look at the waveforms and think - "that's proof of sound".
Even before you'd perceived it or interpreted it or anything like that. Right?
It's. Sound is sound. Sound is sound? Sound is sound and trees make sounds. If you record a tree falling in the woods, see the waveform and don't listen to the recording, you have proof of a sound. It's still a sound. That's a sound. You don't have to hear it for it to be a sound. It's sound.
I'm right. You're not telling me I'm right.
Tell me I'm right.
No.
Wait.
What time is it? Is it too late to order food?
no subject
How do recorders actually work though?
I'm genuinely asking.
Are they just registering the different frequency of vibrations?
When you play it back, is it not just the speaker recreating the same vibrations, shaking the molecules in the air that we then perceive with our brains and translate into different sounds?
I can do this all day
All night, whatever
It's 3:27.
I don't know if anything's open.
I usually just make PB&J when it's this late.
Do you want a PB&J while I'm up?
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You're on the wrong side of history.
[ read: no idea. ]
No. It's fine. I can pick something up later.
Mostly just want you to come back to bed.
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It's just your perspective, babe.
[ sweats? ]
Hold on a second.
I swear if I come back and you've taken over
Nothing actually, it's fine
I don't care.
[ stiles takes a second to refill his cup, then slowly wanders back across the den, a little slower now that he's concerned about spilling and tripping over random shit in the dark. even though he knows there's no random shit for him to trip over.
he's sipping from his cup when he rounds back into the room, but he bends to set it down on the floor by the side of the bed, hikes knee up like he plans to climb over derek instead of walking around, and then he just - bridges himself over his lap instead, letting his hands slide across the covers so his body sinks down and he's draped over derek's legs on his stomach. ]
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[ stiles heads back into the room on tiny, less-than-graceful steps, and derek sort of sees what's coming before it happens. he sighs, stretches out his legs so stiles can rest on him more comfortably, and doesn't complain when he gets pinned down. he just...
he sits up, just a little, and reaches out to stroke his fingers through stiles' hair. long and soft and loving. he's still wearing his ring. he keeps texting with his other hand, just - because it's still too late to talk. too tired for his voice to work. ]
I like you.
Even when you're wrong.
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his phone buzzes again. stiles cracks his eyes open and slides his hands around until he finds it, dragging it closer. he smiles sleepily, also replying with one hand. ]
I mean
You're okay I guess
Even when you think you're right.
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Sorry you always have such a hard time sleeping.
Wish I could do more for you than just brutally eviscerate you in arguments about the definition of sound.
[ and he thinks stiles is probably too sleepy to fuck, which is, like, option B. even though it's been a new month for, like, three hours. quota's ready to be met again. not that he'll say that. not that he's even thinking it? he's, uh. he's happy to just keep playing with stiles' hair. ]
We've probably burned out two truths and a lie.
Truth or dare seems boring.
Ask me some weird would you rather questions.
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You giving up =/= you brutally eviscerating me.
Anyway it's fine. Nothing new.
I'll pass tf out in a bowl of cereal unwillingly later or something.
Truth or dare is only boring because you'd just pick dare every single time.
Tell me I'm wrong.
Would you rather be able to reverse one decision you make each day or be able to stop time for ten seconds once a day?
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I showed you mercy. I didn't give up.
Reverse one decision.
[ he tends to make pretty fucking bad decisions. decisions that often fuck literally everything up. he's gonna make stiles dump him because of a shitty decision, one of these days. hey, would you rather isn't a fun game. ]
Truth or dare.
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I didn't ask for mercy.
Dare.
Don't make me get up.
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I know when you're afraid.
You were fucking shaking. Incapable of dealing with loss.
Dare you to get up.
Dare you to go make me that PB&J after all.
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Kinda different.
Also I hate you?
If I get up and you say JK
Murder in this bed.
[ he huffs, loudly, and pointedly takes derek's hand out of his hair so he can get up to make a fucking sandwich he could have made like two minutes ago when he was in the kitchen the first time, but nooo.
stiles rolls over on derek's legs, his back popping quietly, and then he sits up, hunched over his phone as he texts. ]
You're lucky I don't hate you.
Like, so lucky it's disgusting.
I just laid down. I was comfortable.
[ but he's getting up. he almost kicks over his water, so that's cool, but it's fine. stiles shuffles back out of the room, dragging his ass back to the kitchen. ]
Truth or dare.
Think long and hard about it.
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But fine.
PB&J.
[ god, the urge to say JK once stiles is out of sight is fucking phenomenal, but he lets him go. he doesn't even want a sandwich, really, but he's in too deep now to admit it. sorta just misses feeling stiles' hair between his fingers. sorta just misses not taking the opportunity to dare him to kiss him, corny as that might've been.
whatever. he is pretty fucking hungry. derek sits up in bed, stretching out his legs, making his knees pop. his ankles. ]
Truth.
Seems like you're unhappy with my bravery and penchant for diving into the unknown.
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he leans to read his phone, laying two slices of bread out, but he takes some time to really thinking about something to ask. he gets one slice of bread covered in a thin layer of peanut butter and half of the other side smeared with jelly before he wipes his fingertips and fumbles with his phone. ]
Would you fuck Rosalind?
[ hey so this is also not a fun game. ]
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and... it's... confusing. ]
What? Where did that come from?
[ wait - hold on. that's not a no, and apparently he needs to take an emphatically hard stance here? he's not sure if this is a joke, or... what, so he's not sure what tone he's supposed to bring to this, but he is a little worried about what prompted the question. it's very... specific. ]
No. No?
Why? Would you?
Have you?
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his phone vibrates on the counter, the sound of it muffled slightly by the folded up napkin pinned underneath it. stiles slices the sandwich into two rectangles, stacks them on top of each other, then picks up his phone. he blinks, eyebrows pulling together. ]
What?
No. God, no.
She's like - the equivalent of an aunt. No.
[ he pauses to scratch at his eyebrow with his thumb, then start to put everything away, texting one-handed. ]
Sorry, that was kind of out of nowhere.
On my birthday, I was texting her about the possibility of not coming into work and she was asking me all kinds of questions and basically wouldn't let me off the hook unless I told her what I was doing that was so important.
So I told her it was my birthday and that someone wanted to take me on a date, but I didn't mention you specifically, just. You know.
My boyfriend.
She kept trying to pry a name out of me so I finally told her because I just wanted to go out with you already. She asked me why I didn't want to name you, so I told her the truth: I wanted to protect our relationship. Our relationship is just... ours, you know? It's not anyone else's business unless we want it to be.
[ stiles tears off another napkin, turns back to the sandwich on the counter, but decides to get the rest of this out while it's on his mind. ]
She said she understood, said something about her... boyfriend? Husband? Back home, and how some people like bragging about their relationship but that she preferred not to. So I was like - okay, hold on. I'll brag about you to anyone who will listen, it's honestly a miracle you like me, have you seen me, have you seen you, blah blah blah. And she said something. Hold on.
"I have indeed seen him. With any luck, it won't be reserved to just looking forever."
And I... thought maybe I misunderstood what she meant, but she just kind of brushed me off when I asked. I don't know. I'd just finished telling her how excited I was to go on a date with my boyfriend and how important it is to me to look after what I've got, and she just... basically was like "that's cool, fingers crossed that I get to fuck him soon", like. It came off like such a sure thing? I mean obviously that's not what she said but that's what it felt like and I guess it's been bugging me for a while. Work kinda sucks now.
Anyway, sorry. It's all really stupid.
Should have just picked dare, huh?
If you want something to drink with this you can just have some of my water.
[ and maybe less than a minute later, he's padding back into the bedroom with both halves of a sandwich in one hand and a napkin in the other. he seems... mostly okay. just exhausted and maybe mildly embarrassed, a tiny bit anxious, but fine in general. he presses the sandwich and the napkins into derek's hands, leans to press a lingering kiss against his forehead, and then climbs over him into bed, dropping his phone against his chest. he picks it up after a second and sends a quick follow-up. ]
I pick dare only if you're not gonna make me get up again.
Otherwise, truth.
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derek takes the kiss without really reacting, just batting his eyes up and watching stiles sink into bed. he draws his legs up, lets him in more easily, and just... fidgets with the napkin around his sandwich. if he wasn't all that hungry before, he's certainly not now. he takes a bite all the same. ]
It's not stupid.
[ he's just - sorry he didn't pick this up sooner. the pb&j feels like cardboard in his mouth, but he takes another bite, dusts his fingers off on his shirt. he looks at stiles for a long little while, trying to decide if this is something to... stop talking about over text, but. maybe the distance helps. maybe the distance is why stiles talked to him about this in the first place. ]
Look - realistically - I know that being exclusive is difficult, in a place like this. This city is... forceful, and it's manipulative. Kate was the same.
It's. It is what it is. I get it.
[ it's hard. and he hates it. but he - gets it. on some level. sort of. maybe he doesn't. fuck. he just feels like he's trying to be mature and realistic and sensible when he's not entirely sure he's capable of doing that. he types a few messages, erases them. he rolls on his side, so stiles can't see him type. ]
But I'm not... going to just...
Sleep around. I don't want to do that. I want us to feel normal.
If you... do anything with anyone... I won't hold it against you? I know you wouldn't do anything to hurt me. I wouldn't do anything to hurt you, either.
This city thrives on... on extenuating circumstances, and necessity, and things like that, to get people together.
So. I just.
No.
I'm not going to just... fuck every person who finds me halfway attractive. Rosalind included.
But if you end up... trapped in a fucking hotel room with someone, or... or held a gunpoint by another fucking Veracity soldier, or-- or even just... find yourself in a position where you feel like you have to do something with someone...
I won't. Hate you. For that.
I'll just hate the city.
[ christ this is hard. why the fuck did they play this game. he answers truth by, you know. doubling down on making shit difficult. ]
I know you keep a lot of worries to yourself. Things like this. Maybe things that happened back home.
You shoulder shit. It's what you do.
But.
Is there anything I can do to... make you more comfortable with opening up to me about things that affect you?
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it's been bothering him, but he also knows it's stupid, so it - hasn't been bothering him as much as it could if he were less aware. he doesn't think derek is the kind of person to sleep around, he doesn't think derek would do anything to intentionally hurt him. he understands the bullshit ways of this city, the choices people are and aren't given. it was stupid of stiles to ask, and the more he lays here reading through derek's texts, the more embarrassed he feels about the whole thing. god, way to look incredibly insecure.
and now derek thinks he's not comfortable talking to him. so that's great. this is cool. stiles should have just gotten out of bed and moved to the living room and forced himself to watch a movie and just let derek sleep. he sighs, and he turns onto his side to face derek, moving his legs so they touch derek's. the distance does kind of make it easier to just say shit without stumbling over his anxiety, but - he kind of doesn't like the physical distance right now, even if it's minimal. ]
I'm not uncomfortable opening up to you
I swear I'm not, I promise I'm not
Sometimes I just keep things to myself because I'm aware that whatever's on my mind is stupid. And I'm not saying that so you'll tell me it's not. I know I'm being stupid or paranoid sometimes and there's no point in stressing someone else out over a non-issue.
Like this is a non-issue.
I know you wouldn't do anything to hurt me. I wouldn't do anything to hurt you.
But all of that, everything you just said - that goes for you, too.
I won't be mad at you if you're pushed into something, if you have to
I don't know, mess around with someone else because this city is a nightmare.
Just maybe don't tell me about it? Which I know is kind of selfish of me to ask
I mean if you need to talk about something I want you to come to me, I always want you to come to me no matter what
But if it's just to tell me that you did whatever with whoever and you liked it
I'd just. Rather not know so I don't spend a million years feeling inadequate or whatever
Hey this is really
Can we go back Scent vs sCent
Actually you should probably go back to sleep
I didn't mean to wake you up
I should have just written all of this in my journal and put on a movie in the living room
[ stiles sighs and tilts back over onto his back. he pulls his legs up so his knees are slightly bent, decides that's not comfortable and slides his legs back out, and then rolls again so he's on his stomach arms outstretched and his chin tucked between them, phone in his hands. ]
Sorry. I love you.
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It's not selfish, but - I wouldn't do that.
I don't want to know, either.
[ that's not true. he'd want to know. of course he'd want to know. he wants to know if stiles has been with anyone now, because he has to have been, at least once. it's just - he'd get jealous, and he'd get angry, and for all the efforts he's trying to make here, all the attempts at maturity and being reasonable and shit like that, he - isn't. mature. he isn't reasonable. someone would get hurt. he would hurt someone over this.
derek drags his hand down his face. he feels sick, and he can't keep eating, so he just... sets his sandwich down on the floor next to stiles' drink. ]
Do you actually want to go to sleep?
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stiles shifts a little, turning over onto his side away from derek, one arm tucked up underneath his pillow, the other curled loosely against his chest. he hears derek shift around slightly, feels the mattress dip a little when he leans to put his sandwich down, but he just assumes it's derek getting comfortable. he's got his eyes closed, so he doesn't notice the light from derek's phone illuminating the room a bit. his phone vibrates by his hand shortly after, and he opens his eyes and picks it up.
stiles takes a second, types out a couple different replies that he immediately deletes because they're all stupid and pointless and he's just. tired. and exhausted. and yes he wants to sleep but he's been trying to sleep for like - four hours now. every since the both of them first crawled into bed for the night. he just. can't. ]
What I want and what I'm gonna get are two different things.
I'm awake.
You don't have to be.
It's okay, I'm fine.
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I don't want to sleep without you.
I can stay awake.
[ stiles doesn't want to talk about this. about any of this. stiles wants to go back to stupid jokes or pretending to be alone or-- or something, and that's fine, they can do that in time, but derek still has more shit he wants to say. if his thumbs tap over his screen more spiritedly than they should this late at night, it's just because he's anxious. ]
I don't think you're stupid.
I don't want you to keep anything to yourself. I don't care how small or paranoid your worries might be.
We're a team. I want to support you. Through everything.
I'll do better about my little things, too. Bring them up more.
Like -
Like, I'm still worried you think that I think you're messy. Because of the full moon.
I don't. I never thought that. I want you to feel comfortable here. I don't want you to feel like you can't leave your shoes wherever you kick them off. I don't want you to worry about hanging up your towel after you use it.
I don't mind.
I love you, too.
I'm sorry.
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