Rhi (rhianon76)
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Summary
From the original fic this comic is an adaptation of:
“What day is it?” Derek demanded.“What?”
“The day! What day is today?!” Derek let Stiles go, but only so he could reach into his pocket and pull out his phone. He tapped at the home screen, and then went so perfectly still that Stiles was pretty sure this guy wasn’t human. No human could stand that still.
When it was clear Derek wasn’t going to move again without some prompting, Stiles said, “It’s Wednesday.”
“That’s impossible,” Derek whispered.
“Not really, it comes around every seven days.”
“This is impossible,” Derek said again, looking around himself, as if he was searching for something.
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To think of it, anyone could walk in and take him. Anyone. And Stiles would let them. He would take their hand and go to god knows where with just a nod. The things they could have done to this creature… Who knew how many hands he would have passed before breaking apart?
It was a blessing, really, that Derek got to him first.
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Stiles just wanted one thing: a quiet night, some alone time, and DomTop69 to take care of his chronic case of blue balls. What he got instead was murder, missing organs, and Derek Hale crashing through his hookup like an overprotective sourwolf-shaped wrecking ball. Now there are dead bodies piling up in Beacon Hills, Stiles’ crush is way too obvious to every werewolf in a five-mile radius, and apparently? Derek may have considered snapping his hot Grindr date's neck with his werewolf claws.
It’s messy, it’s dangerous, it’s infuriating, and Stiles can’t stop himself from diving headfirst into the chaos. Typical.
A casefic full of supernatural mystery, sarcastic banter, Grindr disasters, Derek’s terrible timing, Stiles Stilinski’s very inconvenient feelings, and blue balls so blue Stiles might star as the Blues Clues' new host.
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Summary
Stiles could still remember the first time his mother explained the importance of epigenetic memory. In spite of the trauma associated with such genetic continuity, she stressed the importance of remembrance in all of its various forms.
He hadn't truly understood until a madness claimed Beacon Hills as it's home. Only he has the genetic continuity, the memories, to free the minds of their hometown. With the occasional assistance of an overbearing sour wolf, oh, and his pack of wolves.