pink squad is the most important
Did you see that video of that baby who stopped crying whenever her parents played Beyonce? I’m pmuch falling into spasms of lols picturing this being the case except Derek is every baby’s Beyonce.
Like, please imagine a situation where Scott’s baby is crying, like NORMAL CRYING, not that anything’s wrong, but it’s just kind of harder to deal with than Scott thought because of enhanced hearing. He can’t really tune her out because hello, goes against every instinct, but also she’s not crying because anything’s wrong. She’s just disgruntled about everything, but especially being put down.
Except Derek walks into a room, and her eyes snap to him and immediately calms down. She super doesn’t care about being put down in her little chair as long as she’s facing Derek, and she just quietly stares at him.
CAN YOU EVEN IMAGINE THIS. STILL LAUGHING. STILES RECORDS DEREK ONE AFTERNOON FOR LIKE THREE HOURS. DEREK ISN’T EVEN DOING ANYTHING, IS JUST COOKING AND WASHING DISHES AND SHIT BUT ALL SCOTT HAS TO DO IS PUT IT ON TV AND THE KID STOPS FUSSING AND STARES INTENTLY.
DEREK HALE INADVERTENTLY RUNNING AN INFANT DAYCARE DESPITE HAVING NO QUALIFICATIONS WHATSOEVER JUST CAUSE BABIES LIKE HIM. DEREK GETTING A JOB IN THE NICU BECAUSE EVEN THOUGH THOSE BABIES ARE TOO LITTLE AND SICK TO FOCUS ON HIM, THEY’RE QUIETER AND SEEM TO THRIVE JUST A LITTLE BETTER WHEN HE’S IN THE ROOM. HE JUST BRINGS A BOOK AND SITS IN THE ROCKING CHAIR. EVERY SO OFTEN HE GETS UP AND MAKES ROUNDS, SAYING A GRUFF HELLO TO EACH BABY.
DEREK HALE: EXACTLY HOW HE IS IN CANON EXCEPT SOMEHOW SENDING OUT POSITIVE VIBES TO ALL BABIES.
BUT WE DON’T KNOW THAT HE ISN’T LIKE A BABY MESMERIZER. WE JUST DON’T KNOW. UNTIL I AM SHOWN A BABY THAT STILL CRIES WHEN IT SEES DEREK THIS IS CANON. JUST LIKE THE SHERIFF’S FIRST NAME IS SHERIFF, SCOTT’S DAD’S FIRST NAME IS AGENT AND IT’S ALL A GIANT BAG OF NOMINATIVE DETERMINISM.
"HELLO BABY," DEREK SAYS QUIETLY AS STILES BOGGLES. THE BABY JUST STARES UP AT HIM, EVEN THOUGH DEREK HAS, LIKE, NO BABY TALK AT ALL. STILES CAME IN TO DEREK DESCRIBING THE FUCKING WEATHER TO ONE OF THE KIDS, AND YET THEY STILL COO, AND STARE, AND FIND HIS PRESENCE BIZARRELY COMFORTING. DEREK HALE KNOWS NOTHING ABOUT BABIES. STILES HAS TURNED INTO HIS FREAKING PA OR SOMETHING, BECAUSE HE’S THE ONE GOOGLING WHETHER IT’S OKAY TO FEED THEM STEAK, AND HOW TO PREVENT DIAPER RASH WHILE DEREK JUST EXISTS AROUND THEM AND OCCASIONALLY TELLS THEM INCREDIBLY OBVIOUS THINGS. “HELLO, YOU’RE SMALL,” DEREK SAYS SOLEMNLY TO ONE BABY, BENDING DOWN TO RUN A FINGER ALONG THE ARCH OF HIS FOOT. THE BABY LOOKS AT HIM LIKE HE’S JUST EXPLAINED STRING THEORY USING BELL PEPPERS.
"YOU’D BE NOTHING WITHOUT ME," STILES HISSES. "AND YEAH, THAT SOFT SPOT ON THEIR HEADS IS MEANT TO BE THERE."
DEREK SITS BACK DOWN AND STARTS WHITTLING AGAIN. THE BABIES LIE IN A CIRCLE SO THEY CAN ALL SEE HIM, AND STARE, TRANSFIXED.
omega werewolf babies.
Derek gets a reputation eventually. He has a youtube channel which is him reading instruction manuals out loud, sat in a rocking chair in front of a fire, which has had over a million hits. He’s pretty bemused by the whole thing. Then the Werewolf social services call him, and he’s a little twitchy at first because he thinks he got Scott to cosign Isaac’s college applications but he’s not completely sure, but it turns out it’s not because he’s gotten tangled up in werewolf bureaucracy again. It’s because there’s a baby born wolf who’s lost its pack, and they don’t know what to do. They’ve tried everything, and they’ve got five of their best case workers on it, but the cub won’t stop crying, and it’s getting closer to the full moon and it’s getting literally painful to be in hearing range of it.
Derek’s saying yes before he’s really thought about it, then sits down and stares at the table for a few minutes. The first few months after the fire, he and Laura were shunned by other werewolves. Their grief, the taboo of being born wolves without a family, Derek’s guilt and confusion— it was something that carried a scent and sound that made everybody edgy. For a cub to be going through that loss without an anchor is unthinkable. He’s still sitting there when Scott and Stiles come in, still having their eternal fire hydrant on ice skates debate (Stiles is for, Scott against). They’re at his side immediately, their hands on each of his shoulders.
"There’s— there’s a cub. In Oregon," he says, and they both immediately go into planning mode, and before he knows it they’re bundled into Stiles’s jeep, Stiles is trying to persuade Scott that the whole of Tusk is good road trip music and he’s not sure how he thought he was going to get to the cub but this is a better way.
They get there crumpled and tired, smelling of Stiles’s jeep and motel beds. Scott’s on edge as soon as they get in hearing range. Stiles picks up on their uneasiness, does all the talking as they get closer and closer to the desolate, exhausted sounding cries. Scott and Stiles wait in the corridor as the caseworker opens the door, shows him in, her eyes glowing yellow in her distress , nails making gouges in the doorframe.
He nods to her, closes the door behind him and looks at the cub. Her name’s Emma, and she doesn’t have a pack any more. She smells like grief and everything that’s wrong with the world, and he tastes ash at the back of his throat. She hasn’t seen him yet, changing forms as she thrashes on the mattress, leaving tears in the fabric, clouds of stuffing and feathers around her. “I, uh, I like your dress,” he says quietly. It used to have sunflowers on it, he thinks. He can see patches of bright, bright yellow. He comes to the edge of the mattress, sits down, taking deep breaths to keep himself under control. It’s unbearable. “I like yellow. It’s a good color. People— happy people wear it.”
She stills a little, the spaces between her form changes getting longer. “And your eyes go yellow too, when you get your little fangs and your claws. Maybe your mom wanted to match your dress to your eyes, huh?” It gets a little easier to breathe as the pitch of her cries becomes less urgent. He keeps talking to her, stretches his legs out on the mattress, his back to the wall. He doesn’t touch her yet, though, just lets her get used to his scent, the sounds he makes. When she’s quietened down to making hiccoughing sounds, eyes flashing as her body spasms, he puts his hand out and puts it on her foot.
"Hey you," he says, and can’t help smiling when she goes limp and stares at him with rapt, trusting eyes. It feels a little like he’s come through a storm. He can breathe again, without the crushing bands around his chest, his head. He brushes her hair back from her sweaty forehead, tickles her gums where her fangs drop, like his mom used to. "Stiles, Scott. She needs feeding and bathing, new clothes. Come in when you have them, but come in quietly, you hear?"
"Sure thing, buddy," Scott says, starts charming the caseworkers. He doesn’t want too many strange people in here yet. He picks her up, supporting her head, rests her on his crooked-up thighs and just looks at her. She’s filthy, a little dehydrated, and has no control yet. He’s not sure what the werewolf family services will do with her. He smiles as she grabs a handful of his sweater in her hand, starts mouthing at the fabric.
"You’ll be okay. Good cub," and yes, his conversation could do with some work, but she’s a baby. All he needs to do, really, is be in the same room. He’s already trying to work out if being terrible at paperwork is going to count against him in the adoption process. He can always nominate Scott and Stiles as responsible co-parents. Or something.
Two days later, they’re in an office. Scott and Stiles are sitting either side of him, and he feels a little bit like he’s walked into a double act. Three out of the five caseworkers are actually pinching the bridges of their noses. The other two have audibly sighed three times. He’s enjoying it, in a horrified sort of way. “Mr Hale, while we understand that the…situation in Beacon Hills has stabilized now, there is the matter of your personal life. There has been a certain pattern in your choice of partner,” and the woman breaks off there, all delicate pauses and inferences. Stiles leans forwards, a shit-eating grin on his face.
Seriously, it kills me when I see people hold scientists up as pinnacles of logic and reason.
Because one time the professor I was interning for got punched in the face by another professor, because mine got the funding, and told the other professor his theory was stupid.
This same professor told me to throw rocks to scare the “stupid fucking crabs” into moving so we could count them properly.
this is one of the best comments this post has recieved
I have witnessed:
Two professors hiding around a corner and snickering, “Shhh, here she comes!” While a female professor approached and, when she finally found them, she proceeded to scream while pointing from one to the other, “You! I called your office but you weren’t there! So I tried to call YOUR office to figure out where HE was but YOU weren’t there!”
Two grad students standing outside a closed and locked door yelling, “Come out of the damn office. You haven’t left for days. If you didn’t have a couch in there I’d be concerned as to where you were sleeping!”
A religious studies professor apologizing for being late to class because, “security stopped me because I’m dressed like a hobbit”
Watched a professor snort the results of my experiment to determine if I had the right final compound.
Two archeology professors toss priceless fossilized teeth back and forth in an attempt to figure out who is smarter by “guessing the type of tooth and species of animal before it lands”
Multiple fully degreed individuals throw dry ice at one another in an attempt to be first to use the lab/get that piece of equipment/or change the iPod song.
A genetics professor build furniture out of stacks of paper and planks of wood because she is that far behind in grading papers/responding. One of the impromptu furniture pieces housed a fish tank.
I could go on but I think that covers the larger portion of the insanity…
Every time it comes around on my dash, it gets better.
- I have had a professor buy a huge fuckoff bottle of rum during fieldwork in Costa Rica and let the undergrads get wasted because “you’re not underage in Costa Rica and we’ll be up all night with the bats anyway!”
- Same professor hung a bat from her headlamp and wore it as a decoration for an entire night.
- A whole swarm of older women - and these are women with PhDs and world-renown bat experts, the bigwigs - all, to a woman, go to the formal charity dinner at an international research symposium in Toronto in late October dressed in skimpy Batgirl costumes. Because Halloween was that weekend, you see.
- At a different conference, a professor get blackout drunk and pass out on the side of the road.
- “Yeah, we have to say we did it properly for the grant but to be really honest, Miracle-gro works better.”
- Teaching lab: we had liquid nitrogen for a demo, and after class the professor, the other TA, and I spent a good two hours freezing and breaking things in it.
a chemistry class begins with 30 students nine months later just six of us left sitting on tables dipping paper into contaminated chemicals to see what happens when we burn it teacher making idle suggestions while he marks our work
"go to the fume hood thing, yeah now put some potassium in chlorine" can i burn the results sir? "fuck it sure whatever its tainted anyway"
The prof I’m working for just asked me if I knew how to pick a lock, and when I responded “yes” she replied, “see, this is why I hire the former delinquents instead of the suck-ups. You’re actually useful.”
I then let her into her office.
It doesn’t seem dated, your attitude is dated. This is the 21st century.
Women deserve to be in STEM programs just as much as men. I’d wager they deserve to succeed in the Sciences even more than men because of the sexism and misogyny they experience.
They struggle to get in because they’re the minority, and a lot of people who could admit them are sexist (regardless of gender) because of the society they grew up in. Its not through any intellectual weakness. These women are amazing and just as smart as the men in their fields.
You have no right to say these things to these amazing women, many of whom I consider to be friends.
Wow. That seems like really fucking wrong. And offensive.
And I would love to take some more time out of my day to be pissed about it.
It seems that I have a lot of fucking science to do.
So, uh, screw that.
If anybody needs me, me and my lady bits will be getting some fucking science done.
I’m oddly excited to have been name checked by this shitty anon. Because it means that the very fact that I got into an Ivy League, top 15 science PhD program (where I fucking belong) is a giant fuck you to shitty anon. Also, shitty anons make Lewis sad. Because Lewis is a feminists science hippo.
Best way for me to deal with shitty nonnies who think women can’t do science? DO MORE SCIENCE!!!! MWAHAHAHA
Crap, I’m a woman biologist. I’d go get another career but I have a groundbreaking thesis on rapid evolution of reproductive isolation between seed beetle populations to finish.
I’m not a well-known tumblr scientist…but I am a scientist all the same. And while I could probably obtain a more gender-appropriate occupation… I’m pretty content with the fact I’m an atmospheric chemist Additionally, I am also one of the few women who have managed to be selected to intern at NASA’s airborne research program.
Do I not deserve a place in the STEM fields, anon?
Hey ladies! Mind if some physicists join in?
At the CERN visiting the CMS part of the LHC where were were working for 8 months on both computational and experimental work:
Presenting our research at a conference on Physics of Living Systems:
And visiting the Wind Tunnel experiment after presenting our research at Max Planck Institute at a Advances in Cardiac Dynamics Workshop
Yo, I haven’t posted for a while, but I’m doing a PhD in isotope geochemistry and this made me mad enough to come out of the Pb isotope lab and take this ‘selfie’ to make damn sure no-one thinks that girls can’t do science. I do what I do because I love it, and you know what? I kick ass at it. So jog on hateful anon, we’ve got science to do.
I have studied nearly every single branch of math and science including but not limited to; geology, astrophysics, mathematics, chemistry, geochemistry, geochronology, nuclear physics, micropaleontology, microbiology, astronomy, logic, physics, biology, oceanography, paleontology, and so many more. The fact that ANYONE has the fucking gall to say that women don’t belong in those subjects is absolutely ludicrous. I work harder than most people I know, and seeing someone tell me that I don’t belong in the field I have decided to dedicate my life to is beyond me. Go fuck yourself if you think that a woman doesn’t belong in STEM programs. Go. Fuck. Yourself. Let me show you how much I actually do, how much work it actually is, and how little of it some uneducated anonymous fuck would actually understand.
These are microfossils that I study. They help with finding oil that allows you to live your life in the comfort you are used to.
The tedious work of extracting mineral grains that are no larger than a speck of dust. One slip of the hand, and your data is lost.
Using laser ablation inductively coupled mass spectrometry to measure radioactive decay in microscopic mineral grains. p.s. that single grain on the screen is over a billion years old.
Did I mention countless hours of field work which includes hiking with loads over 30 pounds and elevation gains of more than 1000 feet in the scorching heat of the desert or pouring rain in the mountains to collect data? Most of which would push the physical limits of most people, yet this requires constant physical and mental work for 8 hours straight. every. single. day.
Or how about presenting research?
I know I am a successful person, and I am exactly where I belong. If you think otherwise, well, you have a lot of waking up to do.
oh im sorry i didnt see you there i was too busy mmmmmmmmblockin out the haters
Anthony Mackie as Captain America, Sam Wilson
Today, I bought this book (for my sister, lets clarify that now ‘cause the only way I’m going anywhere near sperm is if I fall into a vat of it):
OF THE BRILLIANT:
STUFF IT HAS IN IT:
WHAT THE HELL
talk street magic to me
drawing power from the metro lines
illusionists busking illegally, shimmering lights disintegrating as they run
plant mages tending tiny rooftop and windowbox gardens
elementary kids learning basic sigils on the playground
To be ‘educated’ is to be indebted
My current life feels
If Linkin Park plays in the forest and no one is around to hear it, in the end, does it even matter?
It’s unfortunate how many people didn’t take this message away from the debate.
Bill Nye was just SO ENTHUSIASTIC about the topic. You could tell.
For God’s sake, the man was trying to teach people about photosynthesis when asked what his favourite colour was. That’s a man that ADORES science and absolutely loves teaching people.
Suddenly, I was 12 and watching a Bill Nye The Science Guy episode at my grandma’s school while she was decorating the gym.
Bill Nye is like the Mister Roger’s of science
he legitimately cares about what he is talking about and enthusiastically encourages people to take something positive away from it
Bill Nye is the Mister Rogers of science
Bob Ross is the Mister Rogers of art
and Mister Rogers is… well, Mister Rogers
what if they could join forces