[Stiles is sitting on his bed in front of a laptop with the world's grumpiest-looking Husky lying on the bed next to him, contentedly chewing on a stuffed bunny toy. The edge of a murderboard on the wall he's been putting together to keep track of information about this reality is just visible on the edge of the frame, and the rest of the room visible is, well, teenage boy messy, although the angle he's got the camera at doesn't show much.]So, uh, I'm Stiles, this is Derek. Say hi, Derek.
[The husky raises its head and yawns, which is apparently its version of hello.] So, I heard the next Swear-In's gonna be on the moon, which is simultaneously awesome and terrifying - I also heard that Swear-Ins are kind of a lightning rod for attacks? As cool as having 'he died in space' on my grave would be, it would also be cool to not die. But I haven't declared one way or another, and I'm not sure how long I can fail to decide to register or not.
But, uh -
[Segues are for losers, Stiles just swings his laptop around so the screen's visible to the camera. It's open to a Bwitter account called @StilesWatch with an impressive follower count that's apparently dedicated to posting candids of teen heart-throb Stiles, mostly Stiles with dogs from Sunshine Therapy, although there's already one of him with Derek.] Yeah, I don't know what to do with this. I know we're all supposed to be kind of celebrities, but this is a lot. Jesus, I can't even get anyone to go on a date with me back home
[HE DID NOT ACTUALLY MEAN TO SAY THAT OUT LOUD] and they're selling t-shirts, which I'm pretty sure is illegal? Definitely no one asked me if I wanted my face on a t-shirt.
[Help??]