august: who the fuck
scott: language
august: whom the fuck
scott: no

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@quests-incorrect
august: who the fuck
scott: language
august: whom the fuck
scott: no
scott: did you have to stab him?!
august: you weren’t there. you didn’t hear what he said to me.
scott: what did he say?
august: ‘what are you gonna do? stab me?’
malia: fair
august: it’s locked
stiles: it’s okay. locks are my speciality.
stiles: *shatters a window*
scott: Why does august always put the dishes away so loudly?
stiles: to let us know no one helps out in the kitchen
august: gather around, we have a problem.
stiles: what, the fire?
august: no the- wait. there’s a fire?
stiles: never mind, this sounds more interesting
kaga: hey, do you think i can fit fifteen marshmallows into my mouth?
dabi: you’re a hazard to society
dabi: and a coward. do twenty.
august: my next boyfriend must be top of the line: caring, graceful-
elias: hi, i'm the- *trips over air, falls on his face, spilling water all over august, potted plant falls, spilling dirt all over elias' head*
august: i want that one
sam: miley won fair and square… even august admits it
dean: where is august?
sam: still in the shower, we think he's trying to drown himself.
august: self-care is drinking 3 pots of coffee and getting into a knife fight with god.
stiles: it’s not illegal
august: [staring at the trunk of a car that's full of baguettes] There's just so many of them
stiles: still not illegal
stiles: [adding honey to his tea] Yes get in that leaf juice you sexy bee sauce
august: do you take constructive criticism?
dean: if the door was locked, how did you get in?
august: i hit the lock with my shoe
sam: your shoe seems to have the ballistic capacity of a .38 revolver.
august: weird.
lydia: date someone who will drag you outside at 3 a.m. to look at the stars.
august: if anyone, and i mean ANYONE, wakes me up at 3 a.m. to look at the damn sky they will be removed indefinitely from my life
august: a waiter could kill me and i would still tip 20%.
august: i would actually tip more if they murdered me. that’s great customer service.
cop: sit on a chair, we’re going to interrogate you
august, whispering: deny everything
stiles, loudly: this isn’t a chair
zuko: what’s your worst fear?
sokka: once I threw a boomerang and it never returned. I still live in constant fear.
august, rollerblading into his therapist’s office with sunglasses and a piña colada: maurice, you’re not gonna fucking believe this