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Everything started with Peter Hale, because everything that was mind-blowingly bizarre about Stiles' life started with Peter freaking Hale.

Stiles should've known that no good could come from a psychotic werewolf who had somehow made his way back into the pack despite having killed their Alpha's sister.

But no: Derek was on rather civil terms with the guy—for Derek's standards, of course, which meant that he actually used words some of the time, instead of only communicating with eyebrows and growls. And this led to Peter being a semi-constant fixture in all their lives, proven homicidal tendencies or no.

God, the Sheriff would be so proud of his son's life choices if he knew.

Peter approached Stiles one day in May, waiting for him outside school, looking like a Child Molester PSA as he leaned against the Jeep.

"Hey there, Stiles," he greeted warmly.

Stiles tried to give him an I-helped-kill-you-once-I'm-not-falling-for-your-bullshit look, but even he knew looking threatening wasn't exactly his forte. "What do you want?" he asked, sidestepping Peter to toss his backpack into the Jeep.

"Isaac tells me you're something of a shaman," Peter said.

Stiles froze, and then laughed once understanding dawned. "No! It's—it's a game. I'm not—I know absolutely nothing about real-life shamans, I can't help you there."

"Oh, I know."

Stiles shifted his weight. "Uh."

"I think Isaac could use the distraction—you all could. Doing things together is a good way to improve pack dynamics, and Derek can use some help there." He reached for Stiles' shoulder. Stiles flinched back on instinct, which seemed to amuse Peter.

"And you just want to help Derek, of course."

Peter ignored the blatant sarcasm. "Managing a pack of teenagers can be quite challenging."

A thousand retorts about Peter's catastrophic attempt at Alpha-dom crossed Stiles' mind. He swallowed. "And you really think putting everyone in the same guild will help," he said with a snort. "You really don't know a thing about this game, do you?"

Peter smiled. "Well, that's what you're here for."


[Smeaghoul] whispers: hello, stiles
[ZiggyTesla] whispers: uh, hello? do I know you?
[Smeaghoul] whispers: it's peter
[ZiggyTesla] whispers: peter?
[ZiggyTesla] whispers: ...HALE?
[Smeaghoul] whispers: :)
[ZiggyTesla] whispers: oh my god WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK how did you find me here
[Smeaghoul] whispers: you told isaac your character's name, you know
[ZiggyTesla] whispers: yes but
[ZiggyTesla] whispers: you're gonna play too?
[Smeaghoul] whispers: of course, I'm part of the pack :)
[ZiggyTesla] whispers: oh god
[ZiggyTesla] whispers: your character's undead
[ZiggyTesla] whispers: and it's a lotr pun
[ZiggyTesla] whispers: oh GOD


A few years' background in video games had given Stiles a decent grasp of strategy.

He'd persuaded Scott to play a while back, but the guy always gave up after a month or two. This time, however, Stiles texted Allison first, and bless her, she immediately agreed to give it a try.

Within a few minutes, he received a text from Scott—'plz send me that scroll thing asap'—and grinned. He sent a reactivation email to Scott's account, and mulled over who his next step should be.

Well, one of them was easy enough. He'd been working on bringing Isaac into the fold for some time now; with Peter willing to foot the bill for everyone, Isaac happily made an account.

Surprisingly, Boyd agreed after very little begging on Stiles' part. Erica was more reluctant; she'd never been all that into gaming. It took Stiles and Isaac tag-teaming her, with liberal amounts of groveling, to get her to change her mind.

Stiles spent twenty minutes writing and rewriting his text to Lydia. He ended up going for a neutral and mostly hopeless, 'so we're all playing this online game thing, you wouldn't want to join in, right?'

'Sure, why not.'

Huh. So that settled Jackson, too; Stiles wouldn't even dream of trying to convince the guy himself.

So that left...Derek. Yeah, right.


[Evergreen] whispers: hey stiles
[ZiggyTesla] whispers: hey allison! how do you like your goblin?
[Evergreen] whispers: she's awesome :D but I have a question
[Evergreen] whispers: where do I keep my arrows? how do I get more?
[ZiggyTesla] whispers: don't worry, your quiver's always automatically full
[Evergreen] whispers: oh I see :D
[ZiggyTesla] whispers: miss your bow, huh?
[Evergreen] whispers: like you wouldn't BELIEVE
[Evergreen] whispers: dad says maybe next week, idk
[Evergreen] whispers: also I think scott's on my roof again :/
[ZiggyTesla] whispers: tell him to piss off
[Evergreen] whispers: I don't get why he doesn't say hi, I mean yeah we're broken up but if he's here he might as well say hi? or at least wave?
[ZiggyTesla] whispers: ...or don't, whatever
[ZiggyTesla] whispers: you know what, tell him to get online
[ZiggyTesla] whispers: I'm gonna create a guild for everyone
[ZiggyTesla] whispers: this way, you guys can ignore each other in guild chat instead!
[ZiggyTesla] whispers: okay?
[Evergreen] whispers: yay!
[Evergreen] whispers: we're not ignoring each other, stiles
[Evergreen] whispers: we're just trying to be mature about this
[Evergreen] whispers: no reason we can't be friends just because we broke up
[ZiggyTesla] whispers: yeah, I can see that


"There are werewolves in your stupid game," Jackson spat, cornering Stiles after lunch the next day. He kept his voice low. Stiles honestly didn't know if he was more afraid of people overhearing him talking about werewolves or about online gaming—probably the latter.

"Uh. Yes?"

He glared. "And we're playing for the other guys."

Stiles winced. Someone had been bound to notice eventually.

"I've had these characters for ages, and Scott too—how could I have known? And honestly, the guys we're playing for are badass, okay? The others, not so much, they're kind of boring. And uh, slightly genocidal? Not that we're all that much better. Look, the lore's complicated, I'd go on about this but you clearly don't want to hear it. Our side is way more aggressive and stuff, I thought that would be right up your alley! Just trust me on this, all right, our guys are so much more awesome."


"I'm serious! I'm not switching over just so you can roll a wolf. Faction pride is a big deal in this game, all right, I'm Horde and I really like it, so you can just—go play anywhere else, it's not like you all have to play on my realm or anything."

"I don't care," Jackson said, rolling his eyes. "But Lydia made me this...Tauren thing?"

Stiles stared. "You're a cow."

"Bull," Jackson corrected, scowling. "It's manly."

"You have horns, dude," Stiles said gleefully. "Hooves. Oh my God, Lydia's a genius."


BigBadBull has joined the guild.
[Guild] [ZiggyTesla] says: oh god who is that
[Guild] [ZiggyTesla] says: it's jackson, isn't it
[Guild] [ZiggyTesla] says: DAMN IT JACKSON
[Guild] [ZiggyTesla] says: NO WOLF PUNS ALLOWED
[Guild] [ZiggyTesla] says: it says so right there in the guild rules
[Guild] [BigBadBull] says: whatever dude
[Guild] [ZiggyTesla] says: minus 1000 dkps, omfg
[Guild] [BigBadBull] says: i have no idea what that means
[Guild] [Galinda] says: hey bb <3
[Guild] [BigBadBull] says: hey lyd :D
[Guild] [ZiggyTesla] says: fml


When Stiles' phone rang with the pack ringtone at three AM, he leapt out of bed already reaching for a t-shirt and blindly toeing on his sneakers, sockless.

"What's wrong, what happened?" he gasped.

"I don't really get the difference between a mage and a warlock," said Erica.

Stiles literally facepalmed.

"I mean, I do get it—kind of, Isaac's shown me some videos, but I can't really decide."

Stiles didn't even try to remind her why calling someone in the middle of the night, considering the group's collective track record, was a bad idea. He sighed, kicking his sneakers across the room and sitting on his bed. "Well, it's really about how you like to play. Mages are pretty awesome, and warlocks are badass. They're both very, very powerful. Mages can freeze people when they're fighting, or turn them into helpless sheep, they're the worst—"

She laughed. "Oh, I like that! All right, mage it is. What should I call her?"

"Uh." Stiles rubbed his forehead. "Ursula? Mary Poppins?" He glanced at his bookshelf. "Hermione? Morgaine? Matilda?" The twin black-and-white covers of his favorite Good Omens editions caught his eye, and he said, "Anathema?"

"Hm, sounds good. Get online!"

Stiles looked at his pillow with naked longing. He remembered a time when he used to sleep—for hours at a time, even. Those were the days. Now the carefree days of his youth were long gone, and he had a pack of werewolves and a guild of newbies to look after.

"Yeah, okay, give me a minute to boot up my computer."


Guild Message of the Day: pack meeting on sat / bring FOOD (not you scott)
[Guild] [ZiggyTesla] says: hey guys
[Guild] [Evergreen] says: hey :)
[Guild] [Smeaghoul] says: hey stiles
[Guild] [WalkingUndead] says: erica's almost done creating her toon
[Guild] [ZiggyTesla] says: tell her to /w me when she's done so I can invite her to the guild, isaac
[Guild] [ZiggyTesla] says: what are you all doing up anyway?
[Guild] [ZiggyTesla] says: not you, peter
[Guild] [ZiggyTesla] says: it's a school night guys, come on
[Guild] [BubbleOhSevenn] says: questing
[Guild] [BigBadBull] says: shut up stiles
[Evergreen] whispers: just helping scott with a quest in ghostlands and then we'll leave
[Evergreen] whispers: 4 ears to go! :D
To [BubbleOhSevenn]: rolled a whole new character just to level from early on with allison, didn't you
[BubbleOhSevenn] whispers: um
To [Evergreen]: you two are so shameless :p
To [BubbleOhSevenn]: you two are so shameless :p
[Evergreen] whispers: :x
[BubbleOhSevenn] whispers: :D
[Guild] [Thornweaver] says: hey, respect the pack mother
[Guild] [ZiggyTesla] says: ugh you guys are SO EMBARRASSING
[Guild] [WalkingUndead] says: you're def the pack mother, don't even
[Guild] [BigBadBull] says: hey stiles you should take those lemon squares on sat haha
[Guild] [ZiggyTesla] says: I am NOT THE PACK MOTHER
[Guild] [ZiggyTesla] says: but my lemon squares are indeed boss
[Guild] [BubbleOhSevenn] says: just accept it stiles
[Guild] [WalkingUndead] says: you're bringing them, right? :D
[Guild] [ZiggyTesla] says: yeah yeah
[Anathema] whispers: hey, erica here!
To [Anathema]: hey!
Anathema has joined the guild.


Stiles was running Boyd through Wailing Caverns (seriously, he hated that place, the things he did for these people) when a voice said from behind him, "Peter says the pack is practicing strategy online with you."

He keysmashed, nearly falling out of his chair. Spell animations of a bazillion colors flashed on the screen while his heartbeat slowly returned to normal.

He sighed. "Jesus, Derek, warn a guy."

[Guild] [Thornweaver] says: ?
[Guild] [ZiggyTesla] says: brb alpha aggro
[Guild] [Thornweaver] says: ah ok
Thornweaver falls asleep. Zzzzzzz.
[Guild] [Thornweaver] says: tell him we're out of milk

"Boyd says you're out of milk."

Derek peered at the screen. "Boyd's in on this too?"

"Everyone is! It's been pretty cool, we run quests together and stuff. We actually have conversations without anyone getting punched, shoved against walls or anything. You should try it sometime."

"Peter thinks it's important for me to join in," Derek said with a grimace.

Stiles' eyebrows shot up. "Wait, you know how to use a computer?" Derek stared. "Oh no, don't give me that look, you always ask me to Google things for you! How am I supposed to know?"

Derek rolled his eyes.

"Okay, so, so—just to be clear. You. Want to play World of Warcraft. You."

He shrugged. "I'm doing whatever's best for the pack."

Stiles spared a moment to dwell on just how absurd his life had become, and then asked with a shit-eating grin, "Can I create your character?"

"Sure," Derek said, shrugging. He didn't even look suspicious. Really, by this point, he should've known better, but Stiles wasn't complaining.

While Stiles set up the new account, Derek grabbed a book—The Demon's Lexicon this time—and sat on the bed.

Stiles selected the male orc warrior with the most angry-looking face, typed in a name, and presented the new character to Derek with a flourish.

Derek barely noticed the green face, the tragic hair or the tusks, quickly zeroing in on the name instead.

"Sourfang," he read, clearly not impressed.

"It's—it's a pun, see, there's this boss in the game called Saurfang, and—I thought it was funny? Because, you know, you're—"

"Fine, leave it," Derek interrupted. "So, how do you play this thing?"


Sourfang has joined the guild.
[Guild] [Evergreen] says: DEREK?
[Guild] [WalkingUndead] says: HAHAHAHAHAHAHA
[Guild] [Anathema] says: HAHAHAHAHAHAH
[Guild] [Galinda] says: omg
[Guild] [BubbleOhSevenn] says: lol
[Guild] [WalkingUndead] says: lmaaaaao
[Guild] [Thornweaver] says: we all knew this day would come
[Guild] [Sourfang] says: hey guys stiles here
[Guild] [Sourfang] says: stop laughing
[Guild] [Sourfang] says: derek's making his >:| face
[Guild] [BubbleOhSevenn] says: that's just his normal face stiles
[Guild] [Sourfang] says: shut up, scott.
[Guild] [Sourfang] says: (that was derek)


"Scott and I were walking down this path last night, and there was a weird...portal thing?" Allison said when she sat down next to Stiles at lunch.

He looked up, alarmed. "Portal?"

"And on the other side, there was this desert with these huge mobs that killed us in, like, three seconds. We had to walk forever to get our bodies back."

Stiles sighed. These conversations used to be so much cooler back when all they talked about were real threats. "Okay, we really need to come up with some way to say when we're talking about the game. These crazy things can actually happen to us in real life, you know."

She laughed. "Oh, come on, it's been almost three weeks since the last weird magical creature," she said. "Maybe the supernatural's finally cutting us some slack."

Famous last words, Stiles' brain supplied ominously.


[Guild] [WalkingUndead] says: damn, it's really hard to play with one hand bleeding all over the keyboard
[Guild] [WalkingUndead] says: that spider really fucked me over
[Guild] [WalkingUndead] says: it's been FOUR HOURS and it's still not fully healed
[Guild] [ZiggyTesla] says: I know, being a werewolf must be so hard
[Guild] [ZiggyTesla] says: meanwhile, in human-land, my foot will be in a cast for THREE WEEKS
[Guild] [ZiggyTesla] says: due to FRIENDLY FIRE
[Guild] [BigBadBull] says: well stay out of my way next time
[Guild] [Sourfang] says: jackson.
[Guild] [BigBadBull] says: ugh whatever
BigBadBull is offline.
[Guild] [ZiggyTesla] says: :/
[BubbleOhSevenn] whispers: hey our df tank dropped out
[BubbleOhSevenn] whispers: can you clear maraudon for us?
To [BubbleOhSevenn]: sure, one sec
[Guild] [Anathema] says: there's someone called mageulook asking to join our guild haha
[Guild] [Sourfang] says: pack only.
[Guild] [Anathema] says: lol I know, just thought the name was funny
[Guild] [Anathema] says: mages <3


Stiles really enjoyed playing the game, especially at the highest levels. Having to pay attention to several things at once—cooldowns, mobs, aggro, debuffs, other players and whatnot—suited his brain perfectly. The adrenaline of endgame raids was unparalleled—well, it was, right up until he started running into real-word monsters of his own.

At times, it was...bizarre, to say the least, to help the pack defeat creatures that seemed straight out of Azeroth. Today, it was a giant baby-eating ogre that looked eerily similar to the first boss of Deadmines. Stiles kept expecting it to yell, "GLUBTOK READY?" in between the magic ice volleys it was tossing at the pack. It didn't seem capable of human speech—but its deafening roars were enough.

"Wow, this is just like Deadmines," Lydia said, and that? So much weirder.

"We've got—to get it—away—from the hospital," Derek grunted with difficulty, pulling out several thin ice shards from where they were embedded in his chest. He'd been taking the brunt of the ogre's attacks for a while now. The blood loss was making him unsteady on his feet.

Lydia replaced the empty clip in her gun, and ordered, "Okay—Scott, keep it on you so Derek can heal. Try to turn it around, maybe we'll have a better chance of hitting its head if it can't see us coming."

Scott obeyed, launching himself at its chest. Within the next moment, Allison landed an arrow smack dab in the middle of the ogre's head. It roared so loudly that the ground beneath them shook, punched Scott aside, and spun around to charge Allison, who stood several feet away from the rest of the group. She stood her ground as she kept firing a steady volley of arrows at the ogre's face. It was getting angrier by the second, drawing closer to Allison at a terrifyingly rapid pace.

"Scott!" Stiles yelled, firing his own gun haphazardly at the ogre. Why wasn't Scott moving? Had he been knocked unconscious?

Suddenly, Scott leapt to his feet, ran, jumped and sank his claws in the ogre's back to draw its attention. It didn't work: the ogre kept moving—a little slower now, the arrows and bullets finally taking their toll—toward Allison.

Then Derek, without warning, used up the last of his strength to grab Jackson and throw him face-first at the ogre. Jackson landed on its shoulder, and sank his claws in its eyes, holding its head up with its mouth wide open.

This gave Lydia, Stiles, and Allison the clear and vulnerable target that they needed, and within moments the ogre was dead.

"Shit, now we have to bury this thing," Jackson said, leaping away from its corpse and de-wolfing. "And there isn't even any loot."

"In TV shows they always disappeared," Stiles agreed. "I can't believe Joss Whedon lied to me all this time."

"I vote Isaac, Boyd and Erica can drag it to the forest and deal with it," Allison said. "I mean, why did they have to go to the movies tonight of all nights?"

"You say that like monsters don't visit Beacon Hills every other day," Scott said, grabbing his phone. "But yeah, I'll call them."

Stiles approached Derek, who was lying on the ground, panting and still bleeding. "You all right?"

He grunted in response.

Stiles spotted a half-melted ice shard still buried deep in Derek's rib cage and knelt to pull it out. Derek clenched his jaw as it came out, and Stiles winced.

"Are there any others? Is there anything I can do?"

"A heal—would—come in handy," Derek said through gritted teeth.

Stiles blinked, confused, before comprehension dawned. "Oh God, you made a joke," he said, shocked. "You must really be dying."

Derek's lips twitched. It was probably the pain.


[Sourfang] whispers: it says I'm now revered with argent dawn.
[Sourfang] whispers: what the hell.
To [Sourfang]: it's a faction in the game, derek
To [Sourfang]: when you get reputation, you can get good items
[Sourfang] whispers: why the hell would I want to be REVERED with ARGENT dawn, stiles?
To [Sourfang]: just
To [Sourfang]: oh god
To [Sourfang]: go quest somewhere else
To [Sourfang]: hang on, I'll give you a ride


One week later, it was a full moon, and there were witches. Actual chanting-under-the-moonlight types decided to make camp half a mile from the old Hale house and consecrate the area as their own, which of course went over swimmingly.

"This is our territory," Derek said, wolfed-out right in the middle of their circle and prowling to make sure they all got a fair share of his furious glaring.

The witches were holding hands, swaying and chanting. They were actually rhyming, and Stiles couldn't decide if it sounded ridiculous or terrifying. For one, they had flowers in their hair. For another, they—whoa. They had just transformed Derek into...a tomcat? Oh, ouch. That was humiliating.

Okay, maybe leaping to the center of the magic circle to intimidate them hadn't been Derek's soundest strategic decision to date.

Derek-cat yowled and advanced on the coven leader, hair standing on end. Holy crap, he was actually going through with the plan, size be damned. Derek leapt on her arm, forcing her to let go of her neighbor. Once the circle was broken, the pack rushed forward, mingling with the witches, getting in their way to prevent them from closing ranks.

Erica and Lydia ran straight to the bonfire and started to toss random herbs in it, muttering all the reversal spells Stiles had Googled in a hurry on his way to the woods. Most of them were fictional, granted—but at least one of them might stick. Hopefully.

Stiles scooped up Derek, who hissed and tried to wriggle away.

"No, Derek," Stiles scolded.

The cat meowed.


The bemused look Derek gave him was unsettlingly familiar, even on a cat's face. Derek pointedly raised a paw to Stiles' collarbone and scratched him hard.

"Okay, okay. No more dog jokes." He paused, smirked. "Sourpuss."

He yelped as Derek bit his arm.


[Guild] [Galinda] says: I mean, that's not how curses are supposed to work, damn it
[Guild] [ZiggyTesla] says: apparently magic irl doesn't follow game rules, go figure
[Guild] [Galinda] says: I think I'm going to start studying actual magic
[Guild] [Galinda] says: might as well
[Guild] [Anathema] says: that sounds like a good idea
[Thornweaver] has earned the achievement [They Love Me In That Tunnel]!
[Guild] [WalkingUndead] says: lol grats boyd
[Guild] [BigBadBull] says: lmao gj
[Guild] [Galinda] says: so, witch club? :)
[Guild] [Anathema] says: sure! :D
[Guild] [Anathema] says: stiles?
[Guild] [ZiggyTesla] says: idk maybe? will think about it
[Guild] [ZiggyTesla] says: OW fuck
[Guild] [ZiggyTesla] says: I think I need to put out milk for derek
[Guild] [ZiggyTesla] says: he keeps meowing and scratching my thigh
[Guild] [Galinda] says: maybe he needs a litterbox
[Guild] [Thornweaver] says: please get him a litterbox
[Guild] [Thornweaver] says: make my life complete
To [Galinda]: please find a counterspell soon
To [Galinda]: PLEASE


"I can't believe I actually ran out of arrows," Allison said, moodily stabbing at her fries with a fork. "That was so ridiculous."

"You were still pretty amazing with a sword, though," Scott said, grinning. "Now we know who to call if zombie knights ever come around again!"

"Wii fencing saved my life." Stiles laughed. "Wow."

"Zombie knights," Jackson spat in a how-is-this-my-life tone.

Stiles nodded, heartily seconding the sentiment.

"Hey, guys," Danny said, approaching them out of the blue.

They all froze for a moment.

"Hey, Danny-boy, Danny-o," Stiles drawled, beaming up at him.

"You guys talking about that game of yours, right?"

"Yes!" Jackson said brightly—way too brightly.

Stiles thought quickly. "Yeah, crazy zombie killing last night in Scarlet Monastery, you have no idea."

Having an actual topic, everyone joined the conversation again.

"Ugh, I am so sick of that place," Allison said. "Dungeon Finder keeps sending me there over and over again!"

"Me too!"

"We should queue for specifics together more," Scott said, eliciting a smile from Allison.

Danny threw Stiles a look. "Are they always like this nowadays? With the geeky non-dirty talk?"


"I hope you're proud of yourself."

"I regret it every minute of every day."


[Guild] [Thornweaver] says: oom one sec
[Guild] [Anathema] says: come onnnn
[Guild] [Anathema] says: need mage food?
[Guild] [Thornweaver] says: no ty, cooking/fishing 250 :)
[Guild] [WalkingUndead] says: I wish one of us would learn how to cook irl :/
[Guild] [Smeaghoul] says: I can actually cook, you know
[Guild] [Thornweaver] says: kk ready
[Guild] [Sourfang] says: k. pulling.
To [Sourfang]: hey, I never asked
To [Sourfang]: do you want to be guild master instead of me?
To [Sourfang]: I mean, it makes sense
[Sourfang] whispers: no. it doesn't.
[Sourfang] whispers: you know the game better than I do.
To [Sourfang]: yeah but you're alpha
[Sourfang] whispers: I know. :p
To [Sourfang]: ...
To [Sourfang]: ...
To [Sourfang]: omfg derek you used an emoticon
To [Sourfang]: TEARS IN MY EYES ngl
To [Sourfang]: I need to screencap this
To [Sourfang]: for, like, posterity
[Guild] [ZiggyTesla] says: GUYS
[Guild] [ZiggyTesla] says: derek just used an EMOTICON :DDD
[Guild] [WalkingUndead] says: lol
[Sourfang] whispers: >:|
[Sourfang] whispers: there you go, another one.
To [Sourfang]: this is the best day of my life
[Sourfang] has earned the achievement [Zul'Farrak]!
[Thornweaver] has earned the achievement [Zul'Farrak]!
[Anathema] has earned the achievement [Zul'Farrak]!
[Galinda] has earned the achievement [Zul'Farrak]!
[BigBadBull] has earned the achievement [Zul'Farrak]!
<Scoobies> has earned the achievement [Zul'Farrak: Guild Run]!
[Guild] [BigBadBull] says: still the stupidest guild name ever
[Guild] [BigBadBull] says: gdi stiles


Stiles stared at his window, puzzled. He could've sworn he'd heard a weird sound coming from its direction just a second ago. Now everything seemed strangely calm and harmless, though—unusually wolf-less, even. It was almost suspicious.

A pebble hit the glass, more forcefully this time, and Stiles said, "Aha!"

Once he realized the weird thing about this picture was that, for once, his window was actually closed, he rolled his eyes and opened it. A moment later, Derek was standing before him.

"Why was your window closed?" he asked, frowning. "Is something wrong?"

"People close their windows sometimes, Derek. It's a thing."

He gave Stiles a look that seemed to indicate no one sane would close their windows at night. He glanced at the computer screen, which was open on the Google homepage, and sniffed the air pointedly.

It took Stiles a moment to realize what Derek was hinting at. When he did, he flushed, spluttering, "Oh my God, I wasn't—no—and even if I was—holy crap, do werewolves have no sense of privacy whatsoever?"

"No," Derek said simply—well, this was not in any way news—and sat down on the bed.

He was carrying a backpack, Stiles noticed, which was totally unprecedented. Weirder still, Derek pulled out a MacBook and opened it. After a moment, the familiar launch screen appeared.

"You came over to play WoW?" Stiles asked, incredulous.

"Erica and Isaac are practicing duels, and they keep yelling at each other," Derek said. "It's distracting."

Stiles stared at him while Derek typed in his login and password. Since no other explanation was forthcoming, he shrugged and opened his own launcher.

"Hey, what level are you at?" Stiles asked.


"Oh, awesome, I have a DK that hasn't even left Ebon Hold yet."

Derek gave him a blank look.

Stiles grinned. "I have a level 58 character I haven't played with much, I can level her up with you! We can quest or do dungeons, what do you prefer? Dungeons are faster, but you've never really seen Outland, so questing for the first time there is worth it. It's pretty cool."

"Quests are fine," Derek said gruffly, and Stiles beamed. Aw, Derek really was starting to enjoy the game.

"You're going to love it. It's right up your alley."


[Guild] [BubbleOhSevenn] says: okay, how is mining fel iron over and over supposed to help me be a better werewolf???
[Guild] [BubbleOhSevenn] says: I swear I can tell these mines apart from AFAR wtff
[Guild] [Sourfang] says: it's not.
[Guild] [Sourfang] says: but it helps me level up my engineering.
[Guild] [Sourfang] says: go mine, scott.
To [Sourfang]: dereeek
To [Sourfang]: remember that talk we had about how even werewolves have feelings sometimes
[Guild] [Drustilla] says: it helps EVERYONE, scott
Anathema is online.
[Guild] [Drustilla] says: just put everything in the guild vault
[Guild] [Anathema] says: wait, who the heck is drustilla?
[Guild] [Drustilla] says: stiles
[Guild] [Drustilla] says: different character, this one is an undead death knight! :D
[Guild] [WalkingUndead] says: yeeeah the undeads are taking over the guild /highfive
[Guild] [Drustilla] says: oh god don't say that, with our luck those zombie knights will come back :/
[Guild] [Evergreen] says: you see, erica
[Guild] [Evergreen] says: he's logged in with this one so that he and derek can level together
[Guild] [Drustilla] says: ...don't even go there, allison
[Guild] [Evergreen] says: pot, kettle
[Guild] [Evergreen] says: is all I'm saying
[Guild] [Drustilla] says: I hate you all. so much.
[BubbleOhSevenn] has earned the achievement [To All The Squirrels I've Loved Before]!
[Guild] [Drustilla] says: wtb a new guild >:|
[Guild] [Sourfang] says: what?
[Guild] [Drustilla] says: nothing, derek
[Guild] [Evergreen] says: nothing, derek
[Sourfang] whispers: what's going on.
To [Sourfang]: you don't want to know
To [Sourfang]: trust me
[Sourfang] whispers: okay.


Eventually, Stiles had to admit—grudgingly—that maybe Peter had had a point. Playing the game together had improved the pack's interactions. They had something to talk about besides magical creatures, and non-life-threatening reasons to hang out and talk frequently. As a bonus, Stiles had a legitimate excuse to say the weirdest things to Scott or whoever near his father, who didn't even bat an eye anymore.

But the most unexpected consequence of the new guild, hands-down, had been Derek Hale basically taking over his life. He came over every other night nowadays, and when he wasn't physically there, they still met up online to level up together. Ziggy would always be Stiles' favorite in-game character, but death knight gameplay was growing on him, and as it turned out, he really enjoyed tanking lower-level raids alongside Derek. He'd never really liked playing with warriors, but of course Derek found managing rage as a baseline trait as easy as breathing.

Derek spent the night, sometimes, sitting on the floor beside Stiles' bed with his MacBook. Stiles liked watching him play, liked falling asleep to the steady thrum of Derek's fingers on the keyboard as he hit macros and the dozens of keybinds Stiles had convinced him to adopt and memorize.

Sometimes, when the Horde was failing too hard at Alterac, or when Derek got sent to Warsong fucking Gulch, he closed the laptop in annoyance and took a break from the game.

They would talk, then—well, mostly Stiles talked, nothing new there. But Derek seemed more open, softer somehow, and even though Stiles could babble on about everything and nothing for hours on end, sometimes Derek would say things, too—real things, painful things, and even, on occasion, happy things.

In the morning, these late-night conversations never quite seemed real. But every time Derek came over, Stiles always crossed his fingers and hoped to see the Warsong loading screen.


[Raid] [WalkingUndead] says: I can't believe we wiped
[Raid] [WalkingUndead] says: AGAIN
[Raid] [BigBadBull] says: 1111111111111111
[Raid Leader] [Drustilla] says: do you wanna try, lydia?
[Raid] [Galinda] says: of course not, stiles, you can totally do this
To [Galinda]: ty :)
[Galinda] whispered: np :)
[Raid] [Galinda] says: let's try again you guys
[Raid] [Galinda] says: one more time
[Raid Leader] [Drustilla] says: it's a boss fight that's ALL ABOUT BITING ONE ANOTHER
[Raid Leader] [Drustilla] says: how can we fail so hard
[Raid Leader] [Drustilla] says: D:
[Raid] [Smeaghoul] says: :p
[Raid] [Anathema] says: well
[Raid] [Anathema] says: derek's the expert there, not us ;)
To [Sourfang]: oh snap
[Sourfang] whispered: I'm not the one failing.
To [Sourfang]: right :/
[Sourfang] whispered: it's not you, either.
To [Sourfang]: it kind of is
[Sourfang] whispered: no.
[Raid] [Evergreen] says: stiles, give me assist, I'll mark everyone
[Raid Leader] [Drustilla] says: kk
[Raid] [WalkingUndead] says: fort inc, buffs up, guys
[Raid] [Thornweaver] says: food is served!
[Raid Leader] [Drustilla] says: bottoms up everyone


There were hunters this time, three of them, who had laid out traps for werewolves throughout all Beacon Hills. Derek and Deaton were bending over backwards to dismantle the traps, and Derek had instituted a buddy system—no wolf was allowed to roam the streets without a human escort. Scott and Allison were, of course, heartbroken to have a perfect excuse to spend time together. Isaac and Danny were bonding in all sorts of new ways Stiles really didn't need to hear about in great detail—or, really, any detail at all. (Fucking werewolves.)

As far as the world was concerned, the buddy system was the only reason Erica managed to talk Stiles into getting a mani-pedi with her that Friday after class.

Of course, as fate would have it, Stiles the Incredible Danger Magnet's very special superpower kicked in again. The hunters captured them, took them to an abandoned warehouse, and held Stiles at gunpoint as they forced Erica to chain herself with mountain ash-lined silver manacles.

"You should really let us go," Stiles said, and his voice didn't shake even a little bit. He was getting better at this faking-bravery thing. Erica howled loud and long, but there was no reply. Hand deep inside his hoodie pocket, Stiles blindly tapped out a 911 text to Derek.

"How about not," One of the hunters—Stiles decided to name him Sleazy—said, twirling a pocket knife around his index finger.

"You've all been very sneaky," said the second hunter. "We were getting curious."

"You should've come to us when you crossed into our pack's territory," Erica said, glowering.

"We don't need any wolf's permission to do what we want." The douche laughed.

"We have a peace treaty with the Argents," Stiles said, and Douchey grimaced.

"The Argents went soft when Gerard died. Rumor has it their leader's fucking a wolf, even."

Sleazy spat on the ground, disgusted. "Chris'll thank us for getting rid of the little shit that's mounting his daughter."

"He's pack," Erica snarled, moving forward instinctively and hissing when the shackles held her in place. "You won't go anywhere near him."

"See, that's where you're wrong, little she-wolf!" Douchey said with a laugh, and slapped his thigh. "We're getting rid of you one by one, starting with this pup over here."

He tapped Stiles' forehead with his gun, and Erica growled, rattling her chains. Wolfsbane didn't affect humans, of course, but the problem with wolfsbane bullets was that they were still actual bullets.

"You came into our land and started laying out traps," Stiles said, clenching his fists. "And now you're threatening one of us. We've been patient out of courtesy to the Argents, but that's not going to last."

The last hunter sized up Stiles and frowned. "You're scrawny for a wolf," said the genius.

"I'm human," Stiles said, tilting his chin up to glare at Brainy.

Sleazy narrowed his eyes. "If you willingly spend time with these monsters, you're just as bad as they are."

"Just as dead," Douchey clarified unnecessarily.

"I'm guessing you guys don't really care much about the Code," Stiles said. He had to keep talking, to give Derek time to get here. "More like guidelines anyway, right?"

"Pretty much," said Douchey.

"Well, our pack is honor-bound not to attack hunters that follow the Code. Now that you've stated that, and have directly threatened two members of the pack, we have grounds to drive you away from our territory by any means necessary."

Brainy burst out laughing. "And you think you're going to do it, kid?"

"No, but my pack will," Stiles said, and swallowed dry. "And trust me, if you harm one hair on either of our heads, you won't leave Beacon Hills alive."

Sleazy tilted his head. "Maybe we should kill the bitch and send you off to give the Alpha our greetings!"

"The pack is strong. There are just three of you," Stiles said, and heard a crash somewhere behind him. He hoped with all his heart it was Derek making an entrance, and wasn't disappointed; within seconds, he felt Derek's werewolf form come up behind him, claws bracketing Stiles' arms without hurting him.

The hunters didn't seem surprised.

"My, what a strange pack you have, Alpha Hale," Sleazy drawled, and Stiles cursed the day he'd bought his stupid red hoodie. He was beginning to share Derek's burning hatred for wolf and dog puns.

"This one was actually mouthing off on your behalf," said Douchey, nodding at Stiles. "I know you're new at this, Hale, but you should really keep your pack members under control. It's a little pathetic."

Derek let out a low growl. "Stiles speaks for the pack."

"Bad idea, Derek," Stiles said at once, ignoring the annoying warmth he'd felt upon hearing the words. "I mean, have you met me? I speak way too much."

He felt Derek huff out an almost-laugh and inch even closer to him. Stiles tilted his head back slightly, seeking reassurance, his cheek brushing against Derek's.

The hunters were examining their interaction with clear interest.

"Don't try to free Erica, I spotted another trap waiting near hers," Stiles said, and oh, the hunters did seem surprised this time. "There was one here close to me too, but I managed to break the ash circle while they were distracted thinking I was a wolf." Derek bared his teeth. Stiles grinned. "Knock yourself out."

Derek made quick work of Douchey. While he and the remaining two hunters circled each other, Erica ordered, "Damn it, Stiles, let me out!"

Stiles fished the key from the Douchey's mangled remains and made his way to Erica, apologizing for the delay. Once freed, she pounced on Sleazy from behind and broke his neck without hesitating. Derek was still finishing off Brainy when Erica called in the rest of the pack to help with the cleanup.

After the three hunters were dead, Derek advanced on Stiles, still wolfed-out and covered in blood. His eyes were bright red; the wolf had enjoyed the bloodshed. Stiles stood still. He knew the rules, which Derek had drilled into the humans' brains months ago: don't panic; don't act like prey; don't move until the wolf smells you.

Derek grabbed Stiles' shoulders, stiffly holding him at arm's length while de-wolfing. The muscles in his arms were jumping with weird spasms. He was glowering with a level of fury he hadn't directed at Stiles in a really long time, but Stiles—who by this point was rather fluent in Derekspeak—was pretty certain that none of that anger was meant for him.

"Did I do something wrong? Is there a lecture coming?" he asked, just to make sure.

"No," Derek said at once.

"Do you want to throw me against a wall?" Stiles said. "Because a, the walls here look kind of filthy, and b, I really thought we were way past that."

"No," Derek snarled, taking deep, steadying breaths. He still didn't move, and didn't release Stiles. If anything, his grip tightened.

Stiles swallowed. Derek stared. The silence had officially zoomed past acceptable and straight into uncomfortable.

"Oh, I see!" Stiles said, desperately trying to lighten the mood. "You're just having a fit because Drustilla's T10 is so much prettier than yours."

Derek blinked, dumbstruck; his grip slackened.

"I know, it's tragic," Stiles said, and patted Derek's chest in sympathy. "But some of us are just naturally that gorgeous. Just get over it, Derek. Dru is a fine specimen of undead—uh, undeadness? Undeadhood?—whatever, undeaddom, with dashing good looks you could never hope to beat."

Derek rolled his eyes, letting Stiles go. "Yeah, I'm devastated."

"Knew it," Stiles said, throwing him a smirk.

Erica snorted. "You know, Stiles, sometimes I'm really happy you're not a wolf."

Stiles decided to ignore that statement for the sake of his own sanity. Instead, he wheeled around and set off to find a broom somewhere so he could start the cleanup.


[Guild] [Galinda] says: okay that's it
[Guild] [Galinda] says: I really am going to learn how to hex people over the internet
[Guild] [WalkingUndead] says: stonecore again?
[Guild] [Galinda] says: YES
[Guild] [Galinda] says: IDIOTS
[Guild] [Anathema] says: ugh I know
[Guild] [BigBadBull] says: ok the bgs in this bracket are IMPOSSIBLE fuck this shit
[Guild] [Thornweaver] says: it doesn't get better once you reach 85
[Guild] [Thornweaver] says: tol barad is like arathi on crack, the horde's completely useless
[Guild] [Sourfang] says: go quest until you get better gear and more hp, jackson.
[Guild] [BigBadBull] says: questing is boooring
[Guild] [Thornweaver] says: but jackson
[Abyssal Seahorse] = BEST
[Guild] [BubbleOhSevenn] says: YESSS
[Guild] [Sourfang] says: jackson, we're all going to start trying bwd next week.
[Guild] [BigBadBull] says: yeah yeah omw
[Guild] [WalkingUndead] says: WINTER IS COMING JACKSON
[Guild] [Sourfang] says: that's it, isaac, I'm confiscating your tv.
[Guild] [WalkingUndead] says: :( :( you are the opposite of batman
[Guild] [Sourfang] says: ...
[Guild] [Sourfang] says: okay, I'm confiscating your stiles.


"Let the record show that this is monumentally unfair," Stiles said, scowling at the pack as they devoured the snickerdoodles he'd oh-so-generously made for them. They didn't even look up from the food.

"Noted," Derek said, but he was clearly just humoring Stiles.

The pack had just formed their level-85 raid core, and Stiles was the damage-dealing sucker who ended up being "temporarily" relegated to a healing position. Which, yeah, Stiles totally could rock at—and did, when the mood struck him—but he'd been playing this game for long enough to know that this was a one-way transfer.

Isaac and Boyd were healers because they wanted to be; Stiles, on the other hand, was doing it just because there was no one else. And of course Derek was unsympathetic. He was the pack's main tank—which basically involved standing really close to anything dangerous and letting it beat him up to within an inch of his life. That was essentially his calling in life anyway.

The last items on the agenda were Isaac and Erica's requests for a car. Derek decided they would share one, which of course would only lead to more arguing down the road, but it wasn't like Stiles' opinion actually counted for anything, right?

Once that was resolved (sort of), Derek wrapped up the meeting, ordering Jackson to drive Scott home in the Porsche. Stiles took the hint, and lagged behind as everyone else left the apartment.

When Stiles entered the kitchen, Derek was drinking a mug of freshly-brewed black coffee.

"I don't actually mind changing specs to heal," Stiles confessed, shoulders hunched. "I'm okay with doing whatever you guys need."

"I know." Derek handed Stiles a second mug, which he sipped—plenty of milk and sugar, just the way Stiles liked it. Derek, of course, thought the concoction was beyond repulsive. "But you'll have the opportunity to play both roles. Trust me."

He smiled in thanks, then said, "I also don't think giving Erica and Isaac one car is a good idea."

"They need to learn to share. My uncle's spoiling them with all kinds of crap—computers, iPhones, clothes. That's not the way a pack should be."

Stiles nodded. "But Erica's just going to take it whenever she wants. Isaac doesn't really know how to deal with that yet."

Derek gave it some thought. "All right," he finally relented.

Stiles beamed, and Derek rolled his eyes.

"Hey, we should make an arena team, the two of us," Stiles said, nudging Derek with his shoulder. "We'd be totally awesome together."

Derek was silent. "Yeah," he said, after a moment, and followed Stiles back to the living room.


[Guild] [BubbleOhSevenn] says: holy shit
[Guild] [BubbleOhSevenn] says: THAT WAS AWESOME
[Guild] [Galinda] says: yeeeah! \o/
[Guild] [Evergreen] says: good job everyone :D
[Guild] [Anathema] says: take that, weird-ass yellow demon!
[Guild] [WalkingUndead] says: it was like we were reading each other's minds or something
[Guild] [Thornweaver] says: yeah, whenever something changed I could tell what everyone else was going to do
[Guild] [Thornweaver] says: like when derek went full-out wolf I totally knew he wanted me to attack from the left
[Guild] [BigBadBull] says: yeah
[Guild] [Anathema] says: right? and when stiles grabbed that bucket
[Guild] [Galinda] says: he tried to yell something at me but I didn't hear, but it didn't matter, because I totally got it and did the cloud-banishing spell
[Guild] [ZiggyTesla] says: yessss
[Guild] [Thornweaver] says: it's kind of weird but also kind of cool?
[Guild] [Evergreen] says: mostly really cool
[Guild] [BubbleOhSevenn] says: SCOOBY PACK FTW :DDDD
[Guild] [Thornweaver] says: ...
[Guild] [BigBadBull] says: NO
[Guild] [Sourfang] says: no, scott.
[Guild] [Sourfang] says: no.


Stiles didn't even blink when Derek leapt into his room late at night, backpack in tow.

"Derek's here, you guys, be right back," Stiles said in a stage whisper. His dad was asleep, so Stiles would probably stick to typing during the raid, as usual; he was more eloquent when he was yelling in capslock, anyway.

Stiles ignored everyone's greetings—who cared, they'd just seen the guy minutes ago—in favor of ditching the headset and standing up to grab his cell. He fired off a quick text to Scott, telling him to get his ass online so they could start the raid.

"I'm not sure about our strategy. We've wiped on this so many times already, I think maybe we should try—" Derek suddenly fell silent, staring at the door. "Your dad's awake," he breathed, letting the backpack slip soundlessly from his shoulder to the floor.

Stiles turned off his monitor, hoping his dad would see that the lights were off and assume he was asleep. Derek stood in front of him, tense, ready to jump back out of the window at any minute.

Stiles' dad's walk from bedroom to bathroom seemed to take hours.

Eventually, Stiles got bored of panicking and staying frozen in place; his mind ended up wandering into dangerous territory.

His treacherous brain tended not to have much opportunity to do this when he and Derek were alone. Stiles usually had all sorts of game-related things to focus on, or research, or people in danger, so that...worked out, most of the time. Well, okay, maybe half the time. But even the other half of the time, when Stiles just couldn't help thinking about it, Derek was considerate enough not to say anything about Stiles' inconvenient arousal and they could both pretend to ignore it in peace.

This time, though, Derek was standing just a bit too close for Stiles to think about anything else, and he couldn't move away. He couldn't even start blabbing about absolutely fucking nothing to distract himself, and Derek, from the obvious.

He could feel the warmth emanating from Derek's chest, mere inches away. Everything about the guy was suddenly in surround sound and full HD. Stiles could even hear him breathing—which, considering Derek was currently at his sneakiest out of fear of the Sheriff, was quite the achievement.

Also, his face was right there, his jawline right at the corner of Stiles' eye. He didn't let himself meet Derek's gaze—that way lay madness and utter, utter humiliation. There would be no mistaking the pity in Derek's eyes, and Stiles—well, on second thought maybe looking wouldn't be such a bad idea after all, because Derek feeling sorry for him would be a major bucket of ice-cold water.

But fuck, Derek even smelled tempting. Goddamned werewolves—Stiles couldn't even remember anymore if this was something normal people noticed. But he apparently did, okay, and his fingers itched to reach out—to touch.

Physical contact was allowed, even encouraged, among pack members. Under regular circumstances, Stiles tried to get this sort of urge out of his system that way, accepting Derek's reassuring pats for what they were, but he wanted more—he really, really needed more than that right now.

Down the hallway, a door opened. Dad was going to go back to bed! Dad was actually leaving the bathroom, halle-fucking-lujah, and this torment was going to end, and they were going to geek out, play WoW, and never speak of this again.

But then, of course, because that was just how Stiles' life went, the bathroom door closed again; Dad had changed his mind. Water started running from the faucet, and Stiles keysmashed mentally.

Derek leaned his head forward, his dry lips brushing against the top of Stiles' ears, and huh, that wasn't supposed to be an erogenous zone, was it? Earlobe, sure, but not—

"Ssh," Derek said.

Was that supposed to be soothing? Really? Because Stiles was pretty sure werewolves were supposed to have superior senses, and Derek would have to be missing at least three of his to not realize the very serious predicament Stiles was in.

Unless, of course, he didn't want to soothe Stiles. Which would, in fact, be a whole other predicament—one that was far, far more entertaining to consider, but ultimately just another of many (God, many) fantasies.

"Your heartbeat's too loud," Derek whispered, and Stiles mentally cursed every god he'd ever heard of, including a vast number of fictitious ones—was there a werewolf god somewhere? If so, fuck him—because for some reason the jerk actually sounded amused.

This was so much worse than he could've ever imagined.

Derek ran a finger down the side of Stiles' neck. Derek's other fingers were clenched into a fist, knuckles just barely brushing against Stiles' pulse point, as if he was trying to keep himself from reaching out open-palmed.

Stiles let out a nervous chuckle in a desperate attempt to diffuse the tension. "That's—"

"Quiet," Derek growled, his voice rumbling at the very base of the human aural range, and oh.

Derek's voice didn't get like that unless he was very, very angry. Or...well. Stiles hadn't had any experience with this particular scenario before (that he knew of, oh God), but this was definitely a whole new thing. His heart hammered as he considered that maybe Derek was just as horny as he was.

"Stop," Derek growled again, his finger pressing harder against Stiles' neck. Stiles felt his whole body shudder. What the hell? Clearly both extensive research in porn and his own vast hands-on experience had been useless in figuring out how the human body worked. His eyes drifted closed as his head lolled forward, coming to a stop barely an inch above Derek's shoulder. He was so hard it hurt.

Derek let out a small noise that, from a less intimidating being, could totally be called a whimper. His entire body was rigidly still, and Stiles remembered, right, werewolf. Derek was no stranger to self-restraint—he had enough of it for both of them. Stiles could probably get away with a bit more without Derek losing control.

Stiles slid his fingertips under the hem of Derek's t-shirt, their breaths stuttering at the contact. Derek's skin was impossibly warm, his muscles taut with the effort to keep from moving.

Not rolling his hips forward took more conscious willpower than Stiles could ever have imagined—the urge was pure instinct, much like he'd always hoped sex would be, but then again, of course it was, since people had been doing it successfully for ages, right? And people, as a rule, were pretty stupid. Stiles was suddenly glad they had to stay silent right now, because Derek was better off without being treated to yet another of Stiles' stellar monologues.

Only, from where Stiles was standing, it seemed like maybe Derek didn't mind his rambling quite so much. After all, Stiles must've done something right along the way.

The muscles in Derek's arms spasmed, as if he'd barely managed to keep himself from reaching out, and Stiles moved his right hand to rest on Derek's forearm.

Stiles only meant to give him a comforting pat, but instead his hand slid up to Derek's shoulder of its own accord—lightly enough for him to notice that wow, the guy had actual goosebumps. Who knew werewolves could get goosebumps? Who knew Stiles could give werewolves goosebumps?

"Fuck," Derek breathed out, prolonging the vowel as he exhaled. He sounded wrecked. "I can't—Stiles—"

The bathroom door opened. His dad's steps to the bedroom seemed to echo through the house—even more so because Derek was so desperately focused that his panting matched their rhythm, warm and loud against Stiles' ear.

Stiles swallowed hard as he tried not to squirm. "Stop breathing," he whispered illogically, and felt Derek's stomach ripple with suppressed laughter under his fingertips.

Stiles' mind was running wild with a thousand scenarios they could be trying out right now—so many things he'd watched or read about, or even physics-defying oddities he'd just imagined—but mostly, all he wanted was to see Derek, to feel how their bodies fit together, concrete proof that yes, this was really happening.

It felt less believable than werewolves and witches put together, zombies and succubi and kanimas—the idea that Derek freaking Hale actually wanted this. Wanted Stiles.

Dad's bedroom door slamming shut was officially the best sound Stiles had ever heard in his entire life.


[Guild] [Thornweaver] says: ...
[Guild] [Evergreen] says: uh
[Guild] [Galinda] says: guys, you do realize we can still hear you, right?
[Guild] [Thornweaver] says: that's a terrible pun, jackson
[Guild] [Thornweaver] says: terrible
[Guild] [BigBadBull] says: jesus boyd NO
[Guild] [WalkingUndead] says: oh god
[Guild] [WalkingUndead] says: I think derek would want US to log out, guys
[Guild] [WalkingUndead] says: he's clearly too busy to think straight
[Guild] [Thornweaver] says: no one in this pack can pull off a decent pun
[Guild] [Thornweaver] says: tragic, really

BubbleOhSevenn has come online.
[Guild] [BubbleOhSevenn] says: ...
[Guild] [BubbleOhSevenn] says: OH MY GOD WTF AM I HEARING
[Guild] [Evergreen] says: scott, log off
[Guild] [BubbleOhSevenn] says: MY EARS
[Guild] [Evergreen] says: right now
[Guild] [Evergreen] says: just go

BubbleOhSevenn has gone offline.
[Guild] [Thornweaver] says: oh well took them long enough
[Guild] [Galinda] says: damn right
[Guild] [WalkingUndead] says: so, anyone up for a random battleground?