
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/4526145.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Major_Character_Death, Rape/Non-Con,
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Teen_Wolf_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Peter_Hale/Stiles_Stilinski, steter, One_sided_Derek_Hale/Stiles
      Stilinski_-_Relationship
  Character:
      Peter_Hale, Stiles_Stilinski, Eric_Northman_cameo, Tara_(True_Blood)
      Cameo, Pamela_(True_Blood)_Cameo
  Additional Tags:
      Notfic_that_became_fic_that's_not_a_fic, Dubious_Consent, A_lot_of
      fucking_tropes_here, Seriously_wtf_was_I_thinking, Mercenaries, Coffee
      Shops, Crossdressing, Rough_Sex, Bloodplay, Blood_and_Gore, I_cannot
      stress_enough_about_the_notfic, True_Blood_cameo, Sterek_blink_an_you
      miss_it, one_sided_Sterek, Steter_-_Freeform, Toys
  Collections:
      Steter_Big_Bang:_Round_1
  Stats:
      Published: 2015-08-08 Chapters: 5/5 Words: 9842
****** You Don't Form In The Wet Sand ******
by Dessythings
Summary
     Love is a myriad of pied emotions that are incorrigible, reckless and
     absolute. Love doesn’t discriminate against whom it possesses and in
     the grand scheme of things its insignificance drives us towards the
     horizon into oblivion.
Notes
See the end of the work for notes
***** Law 39: Stir Up Waters To Catch Fish *****
                    LAW 39: Stir Up Waters To Catch A Fish
 
“When fortune smiles on something as violent and ugly as revenge, it seems
proof like no other that not only does God exist, you're doing his will.” The
Bride Kill Bill vol. 1
 
                         ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
Stiles now understood why Peter carried a handkerchief as spittle mixed with
crimson blood snaked a path down his face in slow tendrils, he seriously hoped
none had gotten in his eyes. His ‘prey’ for lack of better words snarled
obscenities at his person as he made a show of slowly circling its form. He
fought down the urge to strike out, to end this miserable creatures excuse for
existing, but he killed the urge with a harsh breath.
 
“I wasn’t even looking for you and there you were, just pretty as a red apple
ready to be picked from the tree.” Stiles murmured, hand moving almost
lovingly, caressing a bruised cheek.
 
“Fuck you, lemme go or I’ll...”
 
“You’ll nothing!” Stiles snarled so viciously that the tendons in his neck
strained against his skin.”I wouldn’t touch your cunt with a ten foot pole and
you’re in little position to make demands.”
 
“Wolf fucker!” she spat, “You’d do anything to get his cock, tell me; has he
grown any?” her laugh was broken by wheezing coughs.
 
Stiles snorted. “You’re a real piece of work bitch. Are you or are you not
turning as we speak?”
 
She froze in her struggling against the binds and stared at her captor.
 
“You were going to Mexico to let those fuckers kill you cause you’re too
chicken shit to do it yourself, but then you got cold feet and killed them
instead and now I have you here. I suppose I could be nice and do their job for
them,” Stiles hmmed, smirking.
 
“I’ll be one of them soon, why wait?”
 
“So eager for death Kate? Well I’ll tell you why. I’m not going to simply kill
you, no I’m going to make you wish for death by the time I’m done with you and
for that the human body will just not do. I realize you are not the true start
of the Hale tragedy but I’ve already cut the head of the snake off and before a
new one grows, which would be you by the way, I’m going to nip this in the
bud.” he paused, giving his captive a considering gaze. “Wanna see daddy?”
 
“What have you done to my father you knot whore!” she screamed.
 
Stiles laughed, “Oh ho, a Knot whore, I give you 2 points in the creative
field. But you have to be an alpha to have a knot…besides, you’re thinking
about the wrong Hale.”
 
Stiles stepped back out of spitting range and watched the gears shift into
place in her mind.
 
“You’re sick.” she spat.
 
“No my dear, that would be you besides, pot kettle.” Stiles said, motioning
between them.
 
The warehouse they were in was one large room shrouded in shadows that held a
distinctive metallic smell, behind one of these shrouds of darkness stood one
of Stiles masterpieces. He wasn’t much of an artist but when he got inspired to
do something he went all out.
 
“Let me show you something,”
 
Suddenly light illuminated the space as Stiles flipped a light switch and a
horrid scream filled the air, a scream that was continuous and sounded
hysterical. Nailed to the once white wall was a very grotesque sight; black
goop circled around a frail body sliced in two. The organs were falling from
the body along with more of the black goop but the most striking feature of his
art was the cane broken in two sticking out each eye socket, skull broken
nearly in two as brain matter peaked through the fleshy surface.
 
“Like it? I call it Le Godet,” he chuckled.
 
The screams stopped, electric blue eyes stared at him as blue leopard skin
started to disturbed her features. Now that was a surprise. Seems the shock of
seeing her dead father forced the change on quicker, oops. Moving quicker than
one would expect from him Stiles tripped a switch and five thousand milliamps
of electricity ran down the shackles Kate was strung up in. She didn’t scream,
but her teeth were clenched in pain as her transformation was forced back.
Muscles twitched, spasmed and contorted in the confined space of the
restraints.
 
“Did you know at this stage you won’t feel a lot of pain with the amount of
electricity I’m using? Well if you were human you could die from this, but
you’re not anymore. If I kept this up continuously for a few days it would cook
your skin? Your regenerative cells in your skin would break down first and go
comatose and then your skin would become vulnerable.” Stiles purred as he
stalked towards his work table.
 
Upon the work table sat a laptop, red light on and other various objects.
Stiles picked up a pair of rubber gloves and pulled them on. Next he picked up
a welders mask and placed it on his head, mask down. He turned to regard his
next attempt at art. While he wanted to keep playing with her for a while he
knew that if he stayed away from home for too long he would be missed. His
father was the sheriff after all and nothing escaped his notice for long.
Sighing, he knew he would have to kill her soon and properly dispose of his
art.
 
“Oh Katey-cat...do you know the different level of burns? I’m pretty sure in
your lifetime you’ve experienced 1st maybe even a 2nd degree burns if you were
careless around the stove,” he chuckled, all the while he turned his full
attention toward Kate.
 
He stalked forward, mask down and lighting the welding torch.
 
“Now 3rd degree burns, that’s something not many people experience and live to
tell, but those that do are incredibly strong willed people depending on how
much of their body is covered in burns. Did you know there is a 4th degree
one?” Stiles asked as he stopped short of the hanging figure.
 
“I don’t care,” Kate said in a rattling voice.
 
Stiles snorted behind the mask, “Of course not, well let me tell you about it
anyway. HealthLine says that 4th degree burns occur when the burn extends
beyond the skin to the tendons and bones.”
 
He held the torch up looking at the flame.
 
“The hottest flame this torch can produce is three thousand, six hundred and
twenty-three degrees fahrenheit. The average crematory uses a fire that reaches
eighteen hundred degrees fahrenheit,” Stiles said, like he was talking about
the weather and not about to burn a bitch to death.
 
“This flame is small, but it will do its job. Did you know it only takes the
body two and a half, nearly three hours to become ashes…..well depending on
size. I think it would take four days to burn you. I know it’s cliche, you
killed my would be lovers family in fire so you shall die the same way but…but
you really put my mate through hell. I value family above all else and when you
fuck with what is mine I will get you. I don’t care how long it takes, but I
will get you.”
 
She laughed, a weak raspy sound. “I’d do it again, all of it again, only I wish
I could have gotten all of them. You’re not even his, his family wasn’t your
family. You’re a fool.”
 
That...that was a sore spot.
 
“Fuck you, seven years Kate, seven fucking years you whore! He was so badly
burned that if he hadn’t of been a wolf he would have died. His face was
covered in 4th degree burns. It took him seven damn years to heal from what you
did and he’ll never be able to heal from what you made him do.” Stiles screamed
in her face, patience gone as he fisted her face in one hand and brought the
torch to one of her eyes. Her screams were delicious.
 
“There were children and humans in the house that night. They did no wrong, the
Hales did no wrong outside of existing and you just strolled back in town. You
stalked them for months and when you found an opening you exploited a child's
feelings and raped him.” he spat, releasing her face and taking in his handy
work.
 
The eye was gone, the skin surrounding it was raised and bloody with some of
the flesh completely gone. You could see the bone of her skull, she moaned in
pain somehow still conscious. The smell was horrendous, he wondered how he was
going to stomach it when he burned the rest of her and Gerard. Gas mask, he
would have to raid the stations stock armory again, but it was a need he hadn’t
foreseen. An bleach, lots of bleach. He was going to loose some nose hairs from
this, a few stops around some random stores was in order!
 
“I’m going to cut off each of your limbs and cauterize the areas. If you don’t
die from infection  I’m going to burn your skin off and if you’re still alive
after that I’m going to go layer by layer till there’s nothing but ashes left.”
he purred in her ear.
 
He took another step back and another till his back hit his work table, some of
the items clattered to the floor. He deftly turned off the torch and removed
his mask. The gloves came off next and he moved toward his laptop, he smiled at
it before he turned that off as well. Like lightning it came crashing down on
him what he was doing, is doing....was Peter worth all this?
 
Stiles remembered the conversation he had with Deaton nearly 6 months ago and
since he made his choice of whom his mate would be, he knew in his mind and
heart that all of this was more than worth it. To have that mans devotion and
attention solely on him was well worth this. There was no going back, he would
admit to himself killing Gerard was more for him than for Peter, but Kate was
for the Hales.
 
He couldn’t help but to think back to that day with Deaton…..
***** Law 17: Keep Others in Suspended Terror: Cultivate an Air of
Unpredictability *****
Law 17: Keep Others in Suspended Terror: Cultivate an Air of Unpredictability
 
~*~
 
“How do I look?” The Bride
“You look ready,” Bill ~ Kill Bill vol.2
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
Deaton was a cheating fucking cheater. Okay, maybe not a cheater, but a damn
inconvenient scheming devious asshole of epic proportions! A liar that lied!
The conversation was still fresh in his mind, Deaton knew long before Stiles
even got the man to help him with his spark that this would happened. The least
he could have done was given him some kind of warning or a hint, but no he had
to be cryptically detached. An by detached he meant right in the middle of
things helping Scott but leaving everyone else in the dirt, but whatever, logic
wasn’t always useful when emotions held captive.
 
The state for his current freakout? Oh, just he had to find a powerful enough
person to mate with so that his own spark didn’t consume him whole when it
finally manifested.
 
Easier said than done. He was still the virginal spazz that couldn’t even get a
pity fuck (the basement kiss/make out session didn’t count) so how in the hell
was he suppose to get a  mate ? And not just any mate, oh no it had to be
someone as competent as himself or more so to take the reigns should there ever
be an overload to his system. That ruled out all the humans of Beacon Hills and
pretty much left his pack and the other odd creatures that they were friendly
with. The mental list was pathetically short.
 
Parrish, Lydia and Peter.
 
Parrish was an unknown, but powerful fire creature. A powerful  untrained  fire
creature, he was quickly marked off the mental list. The same with Lydia and
the strange star crossed lovers thing she had going on with Jackson and Aiden
was a turn off as well. So Peter...Peter who killed his own niece for power,
but still an incredibly powerful werewolf an something else. The man basically
brought himself back from death via banshee ritual. But he  was  loyal to a
fault. Laura’s death granted him the power to kill those that killed his
pack...at the cost of his mental health. But was it ever there to begin with?
 
Tick Tick Tick…
 
“Fuck you time!” Stiles huffed.
 
The blank open tab stared back at him defiantly, some things can’t be found by
google an he’d be damned if he would ask Deaton about anything for a while. His
brain was on loop again and he could feel a stress headache coming on because
of it.
 
Would he cry? He felt like crying. He was going to cry.
 
Suddenly his phone went off bringing him out of his cloud of self imposed
misery. After a two second conversation with the resident Sourwolf he resigned
himself to his fate as he stood from his computer chair. Pack meeting at the
loft in 30 minutes. A little warning would have been nice. Then again the
supernatural didn’t wait for anyone.
 
                                      ~*~
 
“So wait...vampires are a thing and they came out!” Scott yelped, Allison
rolled her eyes.
 
“You owe me 20 bucks, told you that report wasn’t a prank!”
 
Scott whined, “Allison!”
 
Everyone sighed, this...this was their alpha, the fuck?
 
Derek cleared his throat. “Vampires are a lot like werewolfs but not. They run
on a hierarchy system like we do and they have nest instead of packs. Packs
stay together but nest don’t. Their politics are a little different as well.
The Alpha Pack decides if packs stay together. Vampires use Sheriffs to govern
areas and to keep an eye out for their kind and the Sheriff's answers to the
king or queen of the state they live in.”
 
A cricket was needed, that’s how silent it was after Derek said his piece.
Seven sets of eyes blinked at Derek owlishly and the misfit pack wondered if
hell had frozen over. Surely hell had frozen over because that was the most
anyone had ever heard from the stoic werewolf in the two years of knowing him.
For his part, Derek looked like he wanted to hurt one of them as per usual.
 
Erica asked the most obvious question, breaking the pregnant silence. “What do
we do if we run into one?”
 
“Do not underestimate them in appearance.” Peter spoke, startling many. He
really was a slippery wolf. “They can be hundreds of years old and appear to be
young, whatever age they were turned they’ll forever look that age. A newborn
could give a beta a run for their money.” he chuckled.
 
“The only thing shocking about this is that they came out the coffin at all,”
Stiles finally said, slightly disappointed for the reason behind their pack
meeting. He already knew about this from late night Google binging and had
prepared to inform his pack during the next planned meeting.
 
“Still...this could be a problem for our plans as a pack if one decides to set
up shop here. More attention would be paid to people and we could be wrongly
accused.” Derek sighed.
 
Logical.
 
“True, the Fellowship of the Sun bullshit could spread up here. Still we’ve all
been seen during the day time. One true things from legends is that vamps can’t
come out during the day so if we keep our mouths shut and opinion to ourselves
we should be okay.” Stiles concluded.
 
Lydia stood up eying the door, “This has been a lovely discussion hour and I
appreciate the heads up,” she started, but didn’t bother to finish as she
headed towards the door.
 
“No one has anything else to add?” Scott asked
 
Stiles coughed and all eyes landed on him. He honestly didn’t want to talk
about this, but the sooner it was laid out on the table the better. Besides, it
wasn’t like he was going to voice whom he chosen.
 
“Deaton is an asshole.” he started off.
 
Scott looked offended but sheepish at the same time because even he knew how
biased Deaton could be towards the rest of his pack. It was common knowledge
amongst the group that the vet wanted in Mama McCall’s panties.
 
“The bastard told me some news today that he really should have told me a few
years ago. It really would have helped me and a lot of shit that went down
wouldn’t have if that fucker had of said something even remotely hinting or
useful,” Stiles ranted, but was interrupted from going on a full tirade.
 
Lydia raised a brow, “There was something important in all of that,”
 
He blinked twice before replying, “I need a mate.”
 
Two things happened that no one would ever be able to forget and it would make
a great story to tell during the holidays. One; Peter laughed in a non
diabolical way and Two; Stiles jumped Peter. Jumped as in full sprung out of
his chair and bodily tackling the resident zombie wolf to the ground where they
rolled around until nature took its course and Peter pinned the teen to the
ground using his body to weigh him down.
 
“Now that wasn’t very nice.” Peter chuckled.
 
“Asshole,” he spat, “Lemme up!”
 
The group of young adults could only stare in shocked silence. Despite all the
bravado Stiles possessed he was more the think before acting kind of person and
tackling someone that he usually verbally sparred with was an unusual sight.
 
“If I let you up will you cease trying to maim me?”
 
Stiles grumbled what everyone thought was an affirmative as he was let go by
the elder wolf. Said wolf fluidly got to his feet and resumed his perch near
the staircase. Stiles could feel his cheeks reddening as he finally stood up,
without looking anyone in the eye he quickly fled from the room but not before
hearing Peter’s voice.
 
“I wish luck to his mate of choice, they’re going to need a lot of it.”
 
Stiles ground his teeth together as the elevator doors came open and he quickly
exited the building. Yeah, Peter was going to need a lot of fucking luck.
 
‘He don’t even know,’
***** Law 47: Do Not Go Past The Mark You Aim For, In Victory Learn When To
Stop *****
Law 47: Do Not Go Past The Mark You Aim For, In Victory Learn When To Stop
 
                                      ~*~
“Revenge is never a straight line. It’s a forest, And like a forest it’s easy
to lose your way… To get lost… To forget where you came in.” -Kill Bill
                                      ~*~
The elevator door to the loft banged opened and an intoxicating scent filled
the air. Werewolfs and human alike scented the air as Stiles strolled through
the door, one would think they never smelled a pastry before with the way they
were carrying on.
 
“Food!” Erica squealed excitedly, attempting to leap over the arm of the couch
to get up.
 
Stiles scowled, “Oh hell no, none of this is for yall!” Erica whined, as well
as a few other when Isaac choked on air as he first took notice of Stiles
outfit.
 
Everyone was so focused on the aroma of sweets that none noticed the smooth
bare legs; a long black winter coat came off as Stiles set his burden down on
the kitchen counter. Red, it would seem to be a color that would forever be
associated with Stiles, a simple red bodycon halter dress that stopped mid
thigh was revealed. As he walked further into the loft the distinct clicking of
heels met the ears of the occupants of the room. That’s when everyone took note
of another fact; Stiles was wearing makeup. It was a subtle smattering of soft
kohl black eyeliner and pink lip gloss, but it was enough. He didn’t exactly
look completely feminine, not with his current buzzcut, but he could be
androgynous.
 
“Not a word pup!” Stiles said with a disarming smile aimed at Isaac; said pups
jaw snapped shut with an audible click.
 
It was about this time when distinctive sniffing sound was heard.  
 
“Is that Reese's brownies I smell?”
 
“Yes! You do NOT want to know the hell I went through to get this recipe from
Ginger,”
 
While Stiles could cook he wasn’t known for his baking skills, it wasn’t
something his mother focused on when they would cook together and her cookbooks
didn’t hold many true dessert pieces since she was diabetic. None contained a
recipe using Reeses and since Stiles knew for a fact that this candy was the
achilles heel to the ex-psycho wolf’s well built walls he decided he would do
whatever was necessary to make something with them; e.g. brownies.
 
“They’re not for any of us so hands off!” spat Erica as she stalked forward.
 
Stiles smiled, “Wrong She-Wolf, these are in fact for Peter...all of them.”
 
The silence that followed that sentence was deafening until a sinful moan
permitted the air.
 
“These are divine!” Peter moaned around a mouthful, it was a sight to behold.
The normally homicidal wolf was acting like a 5 year old stuffing his face.
 
“Eh...maybe I’ll take the rest home, so you don’t get sick.”
 
Electric blue eyes blazed at Stiles. “I don’t get sick,” and in a blink of an
eye he was back to stuffing his face. Stiles snorted, of course he didn’t get
sick, but he didn’t go through 4hrs of hell that is waxing of legs, arms and
other delicate places along with make-up and being used as a human doll before
finally getting a certain drag queen to show him the best way to make brownies
for the receiver to eat them all in five minutes like a human pig. Sure, he
could have used Google but that required a lot of trial an error and he tasted
her brownies before. Heavenly didn’t even begin to describe these pieces of
ambrosia.
 
Erica had resorted to pouting. “That’s not fair!”
 
Out of all the occupants in the room Derek and Scott were giving Stiles guarded
stares, in fact Stiles was confident that if Derek stared at him any harder his
eyes would cross if Stiles were to suddenly move in any direction.
Scott...Scott looked a little green. Derek finally broke the stare down as he
told Erica to sit back down. While he wasn’t alpha anymore and wasn’t the
eldest wolf in the pack he was the strongest of the beta wolfs and the most
trusted so his word was as good as an alphas in their pack.
 
Then something happened that caused all the wolves to turn their attention
towards Peter. Derek flared his nostrils and in a heartbeat Stiles found
himself thrown over Derek’s shoulder and the pair was soon on the roof. Stiles
didn’t fight the rough treatment, he hadn’t expected Derek of all people to
react so suddenly but he didn’t protest the treatment even though he wished the
wolf had of at least thought to bring his coat along. While the wolf was a
furnace, Stiles was not. He was one hundred and forty-seven pounds soaking wet
and while he loved winter his body did not have much insulation.
 
“I’m going to freeze off my left nut up here,” Stiles complained once he was
set down.
 
Derek glared at him briefly before he scrubbed his face with his hands an let
out a frustrated huff of air. He leaned against the half wall behind him and
slid down into a crouch as he finally looked up at Stiles. His eyes were
guarded, but even an emotionally stunted person could read the hurt behind
them.
 
“Why him,”
 
“Why not him, more importantly why do you care?” Stiles asked.
 
“Stiles,” Derek bit out.
 
“No,” Stiles said, crossing his arms. “Talk,”
 
It was a weakness that even Derek acknowledged, he wasn’t a very good
conversationalist when it pertained to things beyond the supernatural and
especially when dealing with his erratic emotions. A double edged sword in
being able to face the hardships he’s lived through but forever on the outside
looking in on others happiness.
 
“There are thing you need to know, have to understand about Peter. The fire was
only a scratch, my mother was alpha for a reason and she choose the pack before
her personal feelings for her brother,”
 
“What are you trying to tell me?” Stiles asked, breath leaving a wispy trail of
fog.
 
“I know what you’ve done to Kate, I could smell her Stiles! I’m telling you
that a man like Peter has more baggage than Kate and the Argents. I’m telling
you need to stop.” Derek paused, “You’ve made your point.” he sighed.
 
“Have I?”
 
Derek looked up sharply in response, “No ones going to challenge your claim,
he’s already accepted it.”
 
“Just because he ate my brownies doesn’t mean shit,” Stiles huffed.
 
“It means that he trust you.” Derek whispered as he looked up at the dark night
sky.
“Derek, I don’t have time for this. You’ve known for six months what I needed
and didn’t do a thing. Truthly I had already chosen him before I told the pack,
but you could have done anything and I would have given you a chance. If there
was a ship it would have sailed a long time ago.” Stiles said, sighing.
 
Truthly there wasn’t any old or new attraction towards the ex-alpha. Sure,
Derek was a thing of masculine beauty to behold but like his babcia used to
say‘All beauty and no substance leaves a stale taste in your mouth,’. Derek
wasn’t stupid, but there wasn’t much to Derek and while he would be great for
someone else he just wasn’t enough for Stiles. If Derek was jut now realizing
he had feelings of some sort for him then tough shit, he had his chance and
this just further cemented the fact they did not belong together. There would
only be pain and misery from any union they formed.
 
“I don’t want to see you hurt,”
 
“Then maybe I should have stayed home instead of trying to find your sister in
the woods. Getting hurt is what reminds us of our humanity and the pains are
worth it if love is the outcome.” Stiles said.
 
Derek looked up sharply, “You love him?”
 
“Perhaps, no...no, not yet I don’t, but with time I could. What is happening is
not another Kate in the making. Okay, I’m not going to set him on fire...again,
well if he doesn’t go psycho I won’t.” Stiles chuckled.
 
“That...that should not be funny. You are a horrible person.” Derek finally
said, a smirk on his face. Perhaps Stiles wouldn’t get hurt and he would be
what his Uncle needed to reclaim his humanity.
 
“If I’m horrible then together we can be a decent whole. Come on Sour Patch
we’ve got a loft full of confused pack mates.” Stiles said, sticking his cold
hand in Derek’s face.
 
He grunted, getting up on his own. Maybe he was overreacting or jealous, he
wasn’t sure but he hoped for Stiles sake everything would turn out okay.
Following behind the human he couldn’t help but stare at his legs, they were
really working for him.
 
Downstairs Peter held up a lovely red all naturally dyed dream catcher. If one
looked close enough the would’ve noticed the strings in the circle of the dream
catcher were human hairs. A note accompanied the dream catcher, it simple read
for Peter.
 
                                      ~*~
That didn’t stop Stiles from sending off the rest of his gifts, what had been
done had been done and there was no going back.
                                      ~*~
 
The aroma of something sickly familiar lofted through Peters’ apartment,
something tainted in copper. An aroma soon tainted in a familiar scent that
made Peters’ hackles rise; Argent. Springing from the sofa he was once sprawled
over half shifted into his beta form Peter eyed the room and scented the air
again. Beta blue eyes landed on the front door, stalking forward he expanded
his hearing beyond his four walls and was washed in the everyday orchestra of
the outside world. He opened the door swiftly glanced down both sides of the
hallway, nothing til something shiny caught his eye at his feet.
 
“Well what do we have here?” he murmured.
 
The box was rectangular, about 6 inches long and wrapped in silver wrapping
paper with little moons. A red bow and a note were on top the box and now that
he was holding it he could smell what could only be the faint scent of a
teenage boy on the paper. Smirking, he removed the note and read…
 
‘Don’t take this the wrong way, I don’t want this to befall you but I think its
only fitting you have a part of what started all this mess.
 
        Happy Birthday’
 
There was no name left, but it was signed in a different way. Three spots
stained the paper and Peter inhaled deeply, the little shit marked it in his
spunk. Peter was caught between being perplexed and curious, if he didn’t know
any better he would think that the kid was trying to court him in true wolf
fashion. Curiosity won out and he unwrapped the gift an lifted the lid. He
laughed, pure and near manic, he laughed and laughed fore inside the box lay
the severed withered penis of what could only have been Gerard Argent.
 
Fitting indeed, he was half tempted to pickle it in a jar.
 
                                      ~*~
Over the next few days various presents found their way to Peter’s door step.
More Reeses brownies, a bottle of vintage wine, but the most intriguing present
was a simple plant.
 
A hydrangea and a single lilac in his mailbox stained in more of the boys cum
and a few drops of his blood. The flowers were a mystery that Google solved;
Hydrangea represented perseverance and the single lilac was for first love.
 
Peter snarled. Such an intriguing child, already ruined for the world if he was
so entrapped with him. The wolf in him was overly pleased in the wooing,
however the human and more rational part of Peter was wary and the feeling of
which he hadn’t felt in a long time made him question why he had accepted the
gifts? It would be only a 10 minute drive to the Stilinski household to break
the child's’ foolish ambition and go back to being on the fringes of acceptable
society. The greedier, more selfish, part of Peter won out and he placed the
flowers in a vase on his coffee table.
 
                                      ~*~
Once the pack realized whom Stiles chose as his mate all hell broke loose till
calmer minds prevailed. This was Stiles after all, the boy with all the master
plans.
 
                                      ~*~
 
The gifts stopped for a few days and he found himself thinking that this was
all a trick, a very demented trick and he couldn’t nor wouldn’t put it past
Stiles to pull something like this. So it was only natural that he took to
following the boy around. Two days in and his routine was simple; to school,
track after to condition for lacrosse in the late winter early spring and
either home or to run an errand for the sheriff. If he wasn’t doing one of
those four things then the boy spent hours locked in his room on his laptop,
lost to the world.
 
Another mystery that needed unraveling was how the boy was able to hide his
scent just until Peter was right up on the object. It was puzzling to say the
least. He couldn’t sense any magic nor were there any plants or herbs left
behind to help mask the scent.
 
One night, about 5 days later, Peter was able to get into Stiles room while the
boy was downstairs watching TV with his father. His eyes were automatically
drawn to the computer. The window was full of tabs, at least 50 or so. The page
currently on display was a site about Native American folklore. After clicking
through a few pages Peter was able to determine that there was nothing of
interest there.
 
Standing in the middle of the room he listened to the rapid heart beat of the
human boy that caught his wolfs attention and alternatively the human as well.
If the little shit wanted him so bad then it would do for others to know he was
off limits now. Smirking, Peter crept over to the unkept bed an flopped down
without making a sound. He rolled and squirmed into the bedding while he
brought the boys pillow to his face and rubbed it all over his face and down
his neck. The boys scent was extra concentrated here and Peter was tempted to
rub one out here to return the favor, he would have too if he hadn’t heard
footsteps on the stairs.
Silently cursing the timing he jumped from the bed and was out the window in a
flash. He hadn’t been this reckless since high school. What was this boy doing
to him?
 
                                      ~*~
 
He should have thought more about the Native American folk lore page.
 
                                      ~*~
 
So he thought nothing of it when he opened his door one Thursday morning and
found another box done up in the same wrapping with a bow and note atop on his
door step. He quickly picked it up an slammed the door closed; shopping trip
forgotten. Clawed fingers eagerly ripped the envelope opened and his eyes
devoured the letter inside.
 
Fun fact, a person can live for a while without their scalp! I admit, I
originally was thinking of shrinking her head, but I don’t have time for that.
Sadly, I’ve had to end this game sooner than what I would have liked. A boy can
only go unseen for so long with a sheriff father and a werewolf pack to tend
to.
 
        Yours
 
Signed ‘Yours’ with three more cum stained dots. Christ almighty this boy was
gonna be the death of him! Sitting the letter down he unraveled the ribbon and
nearly shredded the wrapping as he lifted the lid and was met with the sight of
golden mane. His grin was feral as he lifted the scalp of Kate Argent. He was
going to have to frame this memento!
 
                                      ~*~
Everything came to a head at a pack meeting, naturally. Ordinarily Peter
wouldn’t have gone but the creature of the week was something the pack hadn’t
tackled yet and was proving to be out the grasp of knowledge even with Peters
massive bestiary. Besides, there was a whiskey eyed fuck boy that he had to
look after. The rooms’ occupants were quiet as they spread out making their way
through a stack of books, one teen screwing around on their cell phone and one
zombie wolf fucking around on his laptop.
 
Suddenly, Peter’s gmail alert tinged.
 
Curious, Peter opened the tab and read the new message topic that simply read
“I’m Your Zombrex,”.
 
“What the fuck is Zombrex?” Peter muttered, half noticing a certain teens
amused glance.
 
Taking a chance to test out his latest anti virus software he downloaded the
content. Let it be said that once you see something you’ll never be able to
unsee it, not that Peter wanted to unsee what he seen.
 
There was no sound. For that he was grateful for surely he would have lost it
had there been. What were once white walls in the background were stained red
in what he could only guess to be blood. A headless torso hung from meat hooks
to one side and on the other was the body of Gerard Argent strung up and cut in
two. What took centerfold was the boy whom made his wolf howl in abandon and
made it want to present him his fleshy belly. The boy was perched upon a
stainless steel table, naked and covered in blood.
 
The boys hips twitched as he touched his cock, mouth opened wide and eyes half
shut. It took a few seconds to notice that the boy wasn’t simply twitching, but
grinding down on what could only be a suction cup dildo.
 
Hot fucking damn.
 
A few things happened at once, four set of beta eyes flared to life and shifted
their attention from the books to the elder wolf. One alpha flashed his eyes as
he roared at Peter. Stiles would sit innocently through this exchange as the
zombie wolf stared at him in wonder. The human pack members were perplexed.
 
Peter laughed, “Silly rabbit.”
 
“Trix are for kids,” Stiles snorted.
 
“Oh god, please take your creepy mating ritual somewhere else!” Erica snapped.
 
The wolf got to his feet, closing the short distance between him and his prey.
Snatching the phone from the little shit’s hand he pulled him up to stand.
Bringing the hand to his lips, he smiled.
 
“Do you want the bite Stiles?”
 
Sweet laughter flooded his ears as his boy quirked an eyebrow at him.
 
“Was there any doubt creeper wolf?” Stiles said.
 
***** Law 32: Play To People’s Fantasies *****
                      Law 32: Play To People’s Fantasies
 
                                      ~*~
 
          “My Name is Buck and I came to Fuck,”Buck, Kill Bill vol 1
                                        

                                     ~*~
                                        
A werewolf, vampire and a wizard enter a bar...sounds cliche, right? Well
that’s what happened, sorta. More like the tall Swedish vampire owns the bar,
the werewolf is covered in vampire goo and the wizard is high on V. The
circumstances surrounding this particular event centers around the Swed vampire
pissing off a coven of witches and said witches earning a bounty warranted
being put on the Dead Pool list.
 
If only things stayed that simple, but time Stiles and Peter stepped foot on
the Louisiana border the simple assassination of the coven had went to hell in
a fucking hand basket.
 
There’s a saying, “Look underneath the underneath,” and it could be applied
here in spades. Peter could snort all he wanted about the origin of said quote
but it’s the fucking truth. Since the vampires decided to ‘come out the coffin’
a whole new shit storm began to brew for the supernatural community and
business was booming for people like Stiles, Peter and their pack, Mercs for
hire; thanks Braeden. The main reason for the fuckery that took place less than
an hour ago? Russell fucking Edgington.
 
Well, it was twelve parts Russell with some fairy realm shit thrown in the mix
and one really fucked up town that put Beacon Hills See No Evil thing to shame.
How can a whole town deny being possessed by a crazy maenad spirit creature?
Lets not forget about all the dangers in that town that were clearly human
though.
 
There were two kinds of people, those folks were clearly the latter.
 
“Everythings really floaty!” Stiles giggled, fucking giggled.
 
“I suggest you take your human to get cleaned up,” the Swed said.
 
Peter grinned, “Will you be providing us with this accommodation? Its not like
we can acquire a place in our current...condition.”
 
“Catch me Peter!” Stiles yelled as he attempted to jump on the werewolfs back.
 
Peter rolled his eyes as felt the weight ram into his back and long arms lock
around his neck. Stiles buried his face in Peter blood soaked shoulder and
sweaty neck. He shifted his stance as he reached behind to hook his hands under
Stiles knees to bring the sparks legs forward to lock around his waist. Peter
raised a brow at the vampire.
 
In a blink of an eye the vampire blurred in an out of sight as he returned to
stand in front of Peter wearing a smile.
 
“You are in luck wolf, the Dungeon isn’t in use currently. There’s a bed and
bathing facilities within. Follow me.”
 
Walking through the empty club they were led down a hallway towards a door. The
vampire opened the door and hit a light switch. They descended the stairs and
were led by an interesting torture device. There was blood and...other bodily
liquids on the cement floor.
 
“Please excuse the mess, the maids day off.” Eric chuckled.
 
Peter snorted. “Doesn’t bother me, although the Wheel is giving me ideas.”
 
Eric led them to a room with a large bed. Peter could still smell that it was
well used, despite the detergent smell that accompanied it. Eric eyed Peter and
his burden.
 
“There is clothing in the bathroom, although we are nearly the same height you
are of a thicker stock than I. I hope you’re able to find something, the child
should be able to wear my clothing easily.”
 
“Thank you, we’ll be gone before sundown.” Peter said as he moved past the
threshold to dump Stiles on the bed.
 
Eric grinned fangs down, “It was a pleasurable fight. I hope we cross paths
again wolf.” then he was gone in a blur of motion as the door to the room and
basement were closed with audible clicks.
 
Sapphire blue eyes met whiskey colored ones as they eyed each other up. The
wolf was roaring below the surface to take, to claim and to own the boy before
him. Peter had been waging an internal war since the fight with the coven and
other vampires ended to keep calm. He was always a little touchy feely after
fighting. He grinned, teeth a little sharper as he took in his prey.
 
“Peter,” Stiles whispered, eyes blown wide.
 
There seemed to be an electric current running through the room, one second
Peter was standing and the next he was on his boy pinning him to the bed with
his body and nipping at his neck. Stiles moaned at the treatment as he tried to
get his hands free to grip at the bloody shirt that clung to Peter’s body.
 
“I don’t think I can control myself Pet,” Peter panted.
 
“Then don’t,”
 
Peter groaned, he was going to be the death of him.
 
Stiles was still high from the accidental ingestion of V and he could feel no
pain as claws tore through his clothing and nicked his skin. One moment he was
staring into sapphires and the next he was face first in a pillow as his jeans
and boxers were ripped opened. In his rush to finally, finally, get inside of
his boy Peter didn’t even bother stripping either one of them. Just ripped a
hole large enough for his cock to get in through the denim and boxers;
partially shredded his own zipper to get his cock out.
 
Precious seconds ticked by as Peter tried to calm himself enough to retract the
claws as he kneaded the raised bottom before him. Once his claws were gone he
spread the cheeks to stare at the flushed rosette of skin. It looked tight, so
damn tight. Peter doubted Stiles ever took the time to really explore himself;
video aside, but he was high on V and anything that Peter did would be healed
within moments.
 
His thumb caressed the twitching flesh as the blood from his kill smeared the
skin. Stiles whined throughout this an tried to roll his hips into the mattress
to get some friction to his denim clad prick. Peter chuckled darkly as he
brought one of his hands down to push into Stiles lower back to keep him still.
The other hand was used to collect some blood from his ruined shirt, he spat
into his hand and pumped his cock a few times before he smeared some of the
mixture into the hole as he spread it opened with two of his fingers.
 
Stiles squeaked at the feeling an craned his neck back, trying to get Peter’s
lips back on him. Somewhere in his drug induced mind he knew this was going to
hurt, but at the moment he could care less.
 
“I’m going to fuck now Pet. I’m going to tear this open and use it till I fill
you up. Get you so full I pup you on the first try.” Peter murmured into Stiles
neck as he draped his body over his lover.
 
It burned, the nearly unbearable stretch around solid rigid flesh slid inside
of Stiles slowly. Spit and blood, vampire blood, made a horrible lube but the
longer Peter flexed his hips to move his cock deeper the more vampire blood
that entered Stiles system through the small tears in his walls despite the
pace Peter set. Stiles tried to arch away from the intrusion, despite being
high the body still had pain censors and they were pulsing with each heartbeat.
 
Peter grunted as he bottomed out, eyes blazing electric blue and teeth far
sharper than any humans had a right to be as he clenched his mouth shut
tightly. Slowly the boys body unfurled and finally went lax beneath him after a
few minutes. The drugs in his system were fading, but not before healing the
worst of the tearing. All Stiles felt was a pleasurable thrum as his nerve
endings buzzed.
 
“Move,”
 
He pulled out, more spit and slowly inched back inside. Stiles groaned, he felt
so desperately full and empty all at once having never been stretched to such
limits before. His body was not listening to him, was not responding to his
urging. He wanted to move back into the thrusts, to get on knees and elbows to
snap his hips back and take what he wanted. But all he could do in his delirium
was to gurgle around moans and twitch against aborted movements.
 
It sounded loud to his own ears, skin smacking against skin. Hot panting
breaths, Stiles erratic heartbeat in his ears. Grunting, beyond moans now his
boy was grunting with each thrust he gave him as he took the body beneath him.
 
They were going to absolutely ruin this bed.
 
Somewhere between the start and now their hands met, fingers circling one
another in a sweet embrace contrasting against their harsh movements. Suddenly
harsh thrust turn to tortuously slow grinding. Stiles whined piteously, his
still clothed erection nearly rubbed raw against his cotton boxers.
 
Hot breath stroked against his ear. “I want you to come, I want to smell it.”
 
A few more teasing grinds against his prostate and Stiles was done for, he
arched against Peter’s bloodied body as spasm after spasm racked his frame.
Peter snarled against his ear as he reached his peak soon after, pulling out to
spray his load on Stiles back.
 
He rolled over on his side to avoid collapsing on his lover, a lover that was
down for the count if the light snores was anything to go by. Teens...all talk
and no stamina. Oh well he’d have to cure his little Pet of this trait,
thoroughly cure him.
 
Peter’s evil laughter could be heard throughout the club and it shocked no one
that the pair was not gone before sundown.
 
“Oh granddad’s not going to like this.” a mocha skinned vampire committed the
next night.
 
A striking blond female vampire looked at her childe. “I am not cleaning that
up...Tara!”
 
“But mother!”
***** Law 9: Win Through Your Actions, Never Through Arguments *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
           Law 9: Win Through Your Actions, Never Through Arguments
 
                                      ~*~
 
               “Wiggle your big toe,” The Bride, Kill Bill vol 1
                                        
                                      ~*~
A well loved 1975 Jeep CJ-5 tore a path down the road towards the main drag in
Beacon Hills. When it became apparent that this ‘Werewolf Shit’, as Erica so
lovingly called it, would be a forever kind of thing in their lives and Beacon
Hills would forever be pack turf it was decided to make moves to legally own
certain parts of the town and have certain positions locked in their favor; for
example one of these things turned out to be having a popular shop in town. One
of the best ideas Scott would ever have was using the money left over from his
father’s insurance money to buy three large brownstone buildings on the old
main street in downtown Beacon Hills.
 
Oh yeah, Scott’s dad kind of kicked it hard during one of those supernatural
shit storms that happened every so often and no one shed a single tear.
 
Anyway, one of the buildings used to be an old bread factory and thus BroNut
was born. Well it wasn’t really that easy. The newest additions to the pack,
Liam and Mason, actually gave Scott the idea when they commented on Mama
McCall’s Ensaimada, a Spanish sweet bread.
 
“Its like sex in my mouth!” Liam moaned.
 
After the little homicidal idiot calmed down and worked on controlling his wolf
with Scott and Derek he wasn’t half bad…if a little annoying, but people said
worse about Stiles when he was off his meds so whatever. Really, it was like
having another mini Jackson around while the real one was still in London, joy!
 
“You’d make a killing off these,” Mason had then commented and ever since then
it was a close case.
 
Scott gathered all of his mother’s dessert recipes and ‘experimented’; another
cool fact, Scott wasn’t that bad of a baker. The bakery was a combination of
classic Spanish desserts focusing more on adventurous doughnuts and drink
flavors. The name of said shop was meant more as a joke but one that stuck.
 
BroNut…just think about it and you know it was totally Stiles and Isaac's
fault.
 
So first came BroNut that became a huge success with its welcoming atmosphere
and delicious treats(The BroNut Special; a Salted Caramel Mocha Latte called
the Brosiden paired with your choice of either Salted Caramel mini Cheesecake
Bites, Glazed Salted Caramel Bronut Holes or a Ding Dong cake made from
chocolate ganache and marshmallows). A few months down the road Lydia and
Allison opened a consignment shop in the corner brownstone. It would be a work
in progress for a few months as Allison had to talk Lydia out of purchasing
high priced name brands and to focus on finding items that the ‘everyday folk’
could afford. While Lydia was a certified genius she was a rich snob half of
the time so it was slow going at first.
 
Nearly a year later, two years after graduation, Boyd brought out the tire and
lube station in town. Seems that while Boyd was a hard working hustler he also
had a knack for Poker, said winnings automatically went into a savings account
and when he got his degree in business it was only logical that he acquired a
place that he was well acquainted with...well the skating rink wasn’t up for
sell. It also didn’t hurt that Erica looked killer in a grease monkey clothing.
 
Around that time another pack member was graduating from the community college
as well. Take a moment to let the image marinate in your mind, Derek Hale in
scrubs...yum. With all the pain and tragedies that happened in his life it was
only natural that Derek surrounded himself in a pseudo controlled environment
of nurturing and helping others to heal because underneath it all Derek is a
softy. He cried during Furious 7.
 
We’ll all ignore the threat of biting ones throat out with their teeth.  
 
The most shocking of career changes happened when the Sheriff wasn’t the
Sheriff anymore. Although he’ll forever be called ‘Sheriff’, the job change was
a step in the right direction for the pack. He became the Mayor and Parrish
took over being the official Sheriff of Beacon County. However, when it became
apparent that he would have a lot more paperwork when there was a Supe Shit
Storm™, yeah Erica actually trademarked that, an old contact gave them the idea
of keeping the heat from their front door.
 
Mercs for hire.
 
There was a Dead Pool, which Stiles would totally deny fangirling over, for all
the criminal Supes in the United States. There were similar ones for the other
countries but some were handled by a special branch of said countries
government. The one whom made the list was not relevant, all one needed to know
that these people on the list deserved death and that was that. Every so often
a text would go out to all mercs with a list of numbers. Stiles and Peter, the
only ones in the Pack with flexible work schedules, would pick a number at
random and depending on if someone else got the number they would be instructed
to either buy another cell phone to receive the hit information or to pick up
the package details at a certain location.
 
Peter always went to get those packages.
 
There were certain safeguards that Stiles and Peter put in place when they
decided to do this for the pack. There were 5 in total and today Peter had
broken the most important one of all.
 
So a well loved CJ-5 tore a path down the road toward BroNut with the driver
drumming his fingers on the steering wheel in an erratic pattern. The passenger
was silent, throwing glances at the driver every other second. He wasn’t scared
of much, hello he died and came back to life, but one thing that put the fear
of god in him was a pissed off mate and at this moment his mate was beyond
pissed off and he had every right to be.
 
Suddenly the Jeep pulled into an empty parking space and Stiles calmly put the
Jeep in park, exited and closed the door, not slammed; this was his baby after
all. He stalked toward the entrance to BroNut, not caring a single bit that he
was covered from head to toe in blood nor the fact that his outfit was in
tatters.
 
The door chimed and Liam was behind the counter not paying attention.
 
“Welcome to the BroNut home of the best doughnuts ho-...” Liam babbled til he
turned his attention toward the door. “Stiles!”
 
It being the afternoon, there weren’t many people inside but the few that were
there were already on their phones dialing the police department and mayor's
office. Stiles paid little attention to the occupants and walked further inside
and towards the back where the manager's office and break room resided.  
 
The door chimed again.
 
“Hello Pup, have you seen my wayward companion?”
 
Liam gulped. “Eh...th-the break room.” he pointed.
 
“Thanks, he’s a little pissed we didn’t take first prize at the con...I admit
I’m a little shocked myself. I mean look at me!” Peter smirked, waving a hand
down his body, a body soaked in blood.
 
“Con?” Liam asked.
 
Peter smiled, bless ignorant pups. “Yes a sci-fi con down in Sacramento. You
have no idea the hell I was put through on the drive back because we lost.”
 
Almost instantaneously the atmosphere in the little bakery change from tension
to nearly relaxed candor. Fools. The community of Beacon Hills had long ago
learned to ignore what was right in front of their eyes and go about their
everyday lives. No one questioned why half of the buildings downtown were
purchased or how a group of freshly graduated high school students owned said
buildings. The community as a whole had taken the ‘Speak No Evil’ to heart and
thus far the town was thriving and making strides. Some of the patrons were
even taking pics on their phones. He would hear no end of this from Stiles if
he ended up being on the front page of Tumblr...again.
 
Oh right, pissed off mate.
 
Sending another disarming smile to the patrons of the shop Peter calmly
strolled towards the break room area, or most likely the manager's office.  He
was sure Stiles was ranting at Scott for his behavior on their latest hunt.
 
“Peter, rule number 1. Don’t die.” Stiles declared as he drew patterns on
Peter’s chest.
 
Peter smiled, “Wouldn’t dream of it my Pet.”
 
A simple exchange of words and what had Peter went an done...he died, again. It
was only two minutes this time, but he could still feel the strain that it put
on Stiles. He could almost taste the anguish and fury. Make up sex would be an
endurance test this time.
 
“Scott’s not here,” Stiles sniffed, as soon as Peter opened the office door.
 
The door was closed and a cone of silence descended on the two.
 
“I like to think that we are honest with each other,” Stiles said, Peter raised
a brow as he crossed his arms.
 
“That your mine and I’m yours, right?” Stiles asked.
 
“What does…” Peter started, but was interrupted by a laugh.
 
“You’re under the impression that you get to talk right now. No, just no. I’m
the one talking and you’re going to listen to me because if you don’t your ass
can sleep outside!” Stiles ranted.
 
It was worse than he feared, if Stiles was threatening to take away the house
his den then he knew he was in some deep shit. The sounds of the cafe were
floating through the door along with the aromas as sweat started to form on
Peter’s brow. Nerves, they got the best of anyone and despite all the swagger
he threw around Peter was no stranger to them. They saying of ‘Fake it to you
make it,’ was Peter’s best friend growing up.
 
“That means that you don’t get to decide when you die, I do and if I have
anything to do about it you are not going to die on me for a long ass time. If
you ever pull some shit like that again I will kill you myself, bring you back
through birth and name you my bitch! When I said I could handle it, it means to
fucking trust in me to handle my shit! You do not…what are you doing, get the
fuck up,” Stiles stopped talking, staring at the wolf on his knees before him.
 
“You’ve got some mouth on you, even after all these years. I Love it.” Peter
said smiling.
 
“You make it sound like we’re 80 fucking years old.” Stiles scoffed.
 
He laughed, “In time...but look at me, look at me. Just think about what it
means for me to be on my knees for you.”
 
Stiles tilted his head, “What, you’re face is in the perfect spot for a blow?”
 
“No,” Peter purred, then pulled something from his pocket.
 
Time stood still as Stiles eyes bulged. Peter’s arms circled around Stiles legs
as he buried his face in fabric of the shirt in front of him, cuddling the
stomach beneath and thoroughly scenting the area. Pulling back Sapphires bore
into whiskey colored eyes as a solid black band glinted from the cheap overhead
lighting. Sometimes the only way to deal with an angry mate was to show them
your trump card.
 
Although, Peter was going to need a new one after this.
Chapter End Notes
     There will most def be a pt2 to this notfic thing...hello wedding
     notfic and the bachelor parties, its Stiles so something fucked up
     will happen!
     Once again, thanks to everyone that kept me going on writing this
     despite all the crap I went through offline.
End Notes
     This is the fic that became a notfic that is now a fic or my excuse
     to make a 4+1 thingy semi Tarantino style, seriously I was watching
     Kill Bill and Jackie Brown when I wrote this. I took a lot of fucking
     liberties with this, there's popculture refs all over the place, I do
     give credit to Malapropian for the drink name and the Steter Chatzy
     for encouraging all of my crazy and mostly random ass thoughts
     pertaining to writing. I also give a huge thanks to Besin for putting
     up with my bitching at 3am.
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