I believe I saw a request for more insanity?
Welp...wish granted.
Enjoy three scenes of wack-a-doodle brought to you buy fun facts and other insanity I found in my camera roll for inspiration.
"Hey, did you know that dolphins are the stoners of the sea? Have That 70's Show style circles and everything."
Peter blinked-processing what exactly he had heard, as he looked away from the television where he had been watching one of the episodes of Lucifer that he had recorded on the DVR...for research purposes into the character's tactics only of course. He most certainly was not admiring how well Tom Welling had aged since his Smallville days...or how good-looking Tom Ellis was, and anyone who said otherwise could kindly meet the same fate on his claws as Kate Argent. "Elaborate for my curiosity."
"It's on this list I found of 'Fun Facts'." Stiles said from his position in the middle of the Beta-made puppy pile on the floor around the couch that the eldest Hale had been deliriously happy to commandeer and stretch out on. The Spark waved his phone in the air a bit above Isaac's head, the curly-haired pup currently taking up half of the teen's chest...while a certain lizard-wolf was taking up the other. "According to this: Pufferfish release a toxin when they puff up. The toxin's supposed to impair attackers so Puff the Magic Fish can get away."
"Makes sense." Peter mused as the Betas and human-Betas in the puppy pile made various sounds of agreement...some, i.e. Jackson and Aiden, making noises of irritation at having the peace and quiet of the pile disrupted by Stiles'...Stiles-ness, but a few well-placed bicep-slaps from Lydia and Cora handled that bit of grumbling. "But what does that have to do with dolphins?"
"The toxin doesn't affect dolphins like it does other things. Instead, it just give them a high...so dolphins will purposefully inflate any pufferfish they find and then start booping the puffer around like they're passing a big ole' doobie."
"...Why would anyone pass around a piece of poop?" Scott asked as he raised his head up over Isaac's shoulder...only to yelp when Allison smacked him between the shoulder blades at the same time that Jackson said. "Not 'doodie', McCall. 'Doobie'. It's a slang word for a joint."
"...Like a weed joint?" Scott asked as everyone snapped their attention onto the Beta with various expressions of 'you really are that dumb' to 'please tell me you're joking'. Peter breathed out a heavy sigh as he, yet again, internally questioned himself, for the umpteenth time, why exactly his insanity at the time had lead him to bite Scott and not Stiles. "Yes, you ridiculous pup. A marijuana joint."
"Can we get back to watching two hot guys kiss, now?" Erica chimed in from her sprawled-on-top-of-Boyd position as she waved a hand at the screen. "Like, come on...I want to see some sexy."
"Amen." Came Danny's response as he nestled back against Ethan. Stiles opened his mouth-apparently to deliver another 'Fun Fact'...only for Lydia to shove a doughnut from the near demolished box into his mouth. "Chew it slow, Stiles, and keep quiet until after the episode. Peter, hit play."
madnessmadnessmadnessmadness
Stiles doing a passable impression of one of the hyenas from The Lion King wasn't too odd of an occurrence...even more so since he had found his little 'Fun Facts' list to read...but that didn't mean that the sound didn't occasionally cause a sense of dread in the hearts of the pack. Was it a fear of imminent danger? Yes...if only danger to their sanity, but still.
"Alright, I'm asking...what exactly did you find that has inspired this lovely fit? Something that we might be able to 'test' I hope?" Peter said as he dropped himself onto the couch next to the hysterically giggling teenager. Truly, the 'Dread Zombie Wolf' had only fond memories of their little 'slapping a chicken to cook it' experiment...though he was certain that, should they repeat that lovely incident in order to fully answer the question with all variables accounted for, that Derek might have an aneurysm. Or he might actually tear someone's (most likely Peter himself) throat out with his teeth, whichever came first.
Stiles grinned as he looked away from his phone. "Just this historical fact about Ben Franklin nearly killing himself while trying to electrocute a turkey."
Peter paused to process that in a way that would make logical sense, but finding none. "Why exactly did he do that I wonder?"
"Apparently he thought that electrocution would tenderize the meat...which makes zero sense 'cause, cooked properly, turkey's already tender and rippable and all that so-"
"Are you just on a historical section of your list?" Peter interrupted...only because he was not in the mood to discuss proper cooking methods for turkey, otherwise he would demand that they attempt to deep-fry a turkey and, well...the fire department had given the pack a fairly stern warning about doing anything that could be a fire hazard after the 'incident' with the crate of fireworks that had been detonated during a pack training exercise that had gone horribly off the rails when Scott and Jackson had started fighting and...it was honestly better to not think harder on that.
Lydia and Allison, both, had a tendency to get flinty-eyed if the 'incident' were brought up.
"Oh yeah, tons of stuff. Like this one: "When trains were introduced in the U.S, many people believed that "women's bodies were not designed to go at 50 miles an hour" and that their "uteruses would fly out of their bodies in they were accelerated to that speed"."
As soon as Stiles finished reading off the fact, both 'mad geniuses' had to pause to stare at one another as they processed the sheer stupidity of such a belief. After a moment or two, Peter huffed. "You know...I am honestly surprised that historical women didn't murder every man they knew if all of the men back then were that stupid."
"Different times, different idiots." Stiles said with a small shrug of his shoulders before he slouched back into the couch. "Good news, at least none of the dudes we know are that dumb."
At that, a loud noise came from outside...followed by a certain former-kanima's loud "Goddamnit McCall! I hope Derek forgives you, because your mother sure as shit won't!"
Pete frowned and gave Stiles an even look-raising a brow as if saying 'you were saying?'...to which Stiles responded with his own eyebrow gymnastics of 'Scott is a special case.'
"We're good! Erica's out of the windshield!" Came a male voice, possibly Isaac. "Boyd, calm down! Erica's fine! Scott didn't mean it! He was showing me something-!"
Definitely Isaac...and the loud growl was all Boyd.
As the noises outside condensed into one loud mass of yelling and growling that could possibly be heard down at the sheriff's station, Stiles and Peter shared a pained expression, neither wanting to know what exactly Scott had wanted to show Isaac that had somehow ended in Erica being in the windshield of Scott's mother's car, before the teenager held up a fist. "Rock, paper, scissors for who has to deal with this, Creepy Pete?"
"I'm more of the mindset that we slip out the back door, get in my car, and leave all of them to kill each other." Peter said as the sounds of what was clearly a werefight...and then a certain Alpha's angry roar of: "I was gone for an hour! What happened to Erica?! What happened to Melissa's car?! Why is the picnic table broken?! Where are Stiles and Peter?! They were supposed to be in charge!"
The duo stared at each other, realizing what both of them had forgotten, then sprung up from the couch and sprinted for the back door not unlike the Dukes of Hazzard.
Now was the time to answer an age-old question: could Peter's car 'outrun' an enraged Alpha werewolf?
madnessmadnessmadnessmadness
"You know how they say "you're one in a million"?" Came Stiles' voice from his position on the couch-his shoulders and back on the seat of the couch, while his legs hung over the back. The teenager drummed his fingers on his stomach as he watched Guy Fieri practically 'foodgasm' over some restaurant's signature dish from his new, if not slightly precarious angle.
"A silly sentiment, but go on." Peter said from where he was seated in what he had claimed as 'his' armchair, doing an admirable job of resisting the urge to chuck his laptop across the room as he, yet again, fell victim to the banes of his in-game existence in Stardew Valley. He was honestly tempted to have Danny look at the coding and see what he could do about the issue of Flying Serpent Swarms.
Honestly, they had a hacker in the pack and it seemed they never utilized him for anything. What a terrible waste that needed to be rectified immediately.
"Well, if we do the math..." Stiles muttered, lips pursed to one side in thought. "...then that means that there are roughly 320 of me and 320 of you in the U.S. alone."
Peter paused in his internal gaming tirade to look up at his fellow 'mad genius'. Without much thought, he sent his character to bed so that he could close out of the game...even if this wasn't going the way that he suspected, an hour long break from the game might do him some good. "...Are you taking this where I think you are?"
"Let's find ourselves, build a couple armies, take over a town or two, and run shit!" Stiles practically yelled before he rolled over...only to tumble off the couch and onto the floor in a heap of flailing limbs. The teenager's grin remained however as he hauled himself to his feet...and only widened as Peter set aside his laptop and stood up. The eldest Hale didn't even bother to hide his own wicked smirk as he went for his coat. "I'll get the car. Should we pick up our dear banshee to further ensure our inevitable victory?"
"Duh, Creeper Wolf. Lydia would never forgive us if we staged a hostile takeover of a few towns without her."
[Spongebob Squarepants-style timecard reading "one hour later"]
If he were honest...Sheriff Stilinski expected to one day see his son in a jail cell. He didn't want it to happen, but he expected it considering his boy's habit of getting into anything and everything. However... "Hale...why did you call, then help, Parrish arrest my son and your crazy undead uncle?"
Derek Hale, Alpha of Beacon Hills and Brooding-Master Extraordinaire, didn't even look away from the duo currently secured in separate cells, with a line of mountain ash barring Peter's and some kind of string-related wards courtesy of a certain overly cryptic veterinarian for Stiles'. "Just trust me when I say that it was for the greater good, sir."
Legit...Tom Welling really has aged well...like DAMN son.
