#oh yeah I’m back on my cookie bullshit

[lambchop-soup]

I have found the best team to play in the Arcade Arena

It’s insanely fun, insanely strong (I literally only have half the characters built), and you get to say “go, femboys, go!” in a Dark Cacao voice every time the battle starts

[twisted-dork]

Peter Parker’s Perspective: Joker’s Big Mistake

Peter sighed as he dangled from the ropes tied around his wrists, feet barely touching the ground. His Spider-Sense had been buzzing the entire time, but it wasn’t like he could do much about it. The moment he’d stepped out of the library while Aunt May was finishing up her work at the library, some creepy clown goons had grabbed him off the street.

And because he had Parker Luck, of course it was The Joker who’d taken him.

He stared at the clown in front of him, barely listening as the guy rambled about how much fun they were going to have. There were playing cards scattered around, knives on the table, and a group of henchmen standing awkwardly in the corner—probably because they knew this was a very bad idea.

Peter, on the other hand, wasn’t scared.

He was annoyed.

Because, honestly?

Joker had no idea what was coming.

Peter sighed dramatically. “Look, I’m gonna be real with you, Mr. Joker sir, you should let me go. Like, right now.”

Joker cackled, stepping closer. “Oh, really? And why would I do that, kiddo?”

Peter tilted his head. “Because my aunt’s coming.”

Joker blinked. “Your aunt?” He threw his head back in laughter, slapping his knee. “That’s adorable! What, she gonna bake me cookies?”

One of the goons near the door shifted uncomfortably. Peter didn’t miss it. See? At least one of these guys has survival instincts.

Peter sighed again, shaking his head. “Look, man. I tried to warn you. You don’t mess with Aunt May.”

Joker leaned in close, grinning wide. “Oh, but I love a good family reunion. Maybe I should keep you around, huh? Make her beg for her precious little boy back?”

A loud CRASH echoed through the warehouse.

Peter smiled.

“Ohhh, buddy,” he muttered, almost feeling bad for him. “It’s too late now.”

The door to the warehouse slammed open, nearly flying off its hinges. A metal baseball bat clattered to the floor, and standing in the doorway—breathing heavily, eyes burning with rage—was Aunt May.

But not just any Aunt May.

This was Angry Mom Mode Aunt May. The one who made Tony Stark apologize for keeping Peter out late. The one who, despite being de-aged, still had all the unfiltered rage of a mother bear protecting her cub.

Joker took a step back. “And who the hell are y—”

CRACK.

The baseball bat slammed into his ribs, sending him crumpling to the ground with a wheezing laugh.

The goons—who had been watching this all unfold—went completely still.

Peter just shook his head, watching as May grabbed Joker by the collar and decked him across the face.

He sighed again. “I told you.”

Joker groaned, trying to crawl away. May kicked him in the stomach, sending him rolling over.

One of the goons cleared his throat. “Uh… do we… do we help or…?”

The others immediately shook their heads.

“Hell no.”

“Dude, she’s not even hesitating.”

“She’s using a bat on the Joker, bro. Do you want to die?”

Meanwhile, May grabbed the bat again and swung, knocking Joker flat on his back. She was fuming. “YOU THINK YOU CAN JUST TAKE MY NEPHEW?!” CRACK. “YOU THINK I WON’T FIND YOU?!” CRACK. “I HAVE BEEN THROUGH TOO MUCH BULLSHIT TO DEAL WITH THIS RIGHT NOW, YOU PSYCHOTIC CLOWN!” CRACK.

Peter just sat there, still tied to the chair, waiting for her to finish.

Finally, May dropped the bat, took a deep breath, and turned to him. “Sweetheart, you okay?”

“Yeah,” Peter said, nodding toward Joker, who was groaning in pain. “I did try to warn him.”

May huffed, stepping over Joker’s unconscious body. “I know you did, honey.” She untied him and picked him up, settling him on her hip like he was a toddler. That’s when she saw the rope burn on his wrist.

Joker whimpered.

Before they left, May turned back and kicked him right between the legs.

Peter winced. “Oof. That one was for the rope burns, wasn’t it?”

May didn’t answer—just adjusted her grip on Peter and walked out like she hadn’t just traumatized half of Gotham’s criminal underworld.

Peter rested his head on her shoulder. “Can we get ice cream on the way home?”

May sighed. “Yeah, sweetheart. We’ll get ice cream.”

And with that, they left the warehouse, leaving behind a battered Joker and a room full of traumatized goons who would never mess with a mom on a mission again.

[witchhazelevesque]

Scene from a time loop valdangelo wip I’m probably not going to finish: -

Frank is belligerent. Again. 

"Oh my god, man, I don't wanna date your girlfriend, so can you stop taking everything I say in the worst possible way?" Leo groans. 

Everyone at table turns their eyes on him, wide with shock and near horror or shock and mortification, but god, it's been a literal half a day of this bullshit, and no, at this point Leo can at least tell that he's not saying anything that’s actually inflammatory. 

"I-" Frank tries, his face bright red, like not quite rivaling the pasta sauce on his plate, but a near cousin. 

Leo waves around his cloth napkin then tips it toward Frank, "I think we could be good friends, actually, if you want to give that a whirl."

Frank looks more confused by this, which Leo is gonna try not to take offense to. 

"Or not, if you're not into the idea, it doesn't fucking matter, I think I may adopt nihihilism or-whatever it's called in that meme that's like, super hyper color 80's guy in sunglasses with a thumbs up and caption 'Nothing Matters', y'all know that one? Doesn't matter,  none of this matters, what does matter but doesn't actually- hey, Hazel, want me to sell my soul to Nemesis to rescue your brother? It may just put me out of my own misery."

Hazel's wide dark eyes stare as fixedly as Frank's wide dark eyes. It would be a funny photo, actually. Leo wishes he had an inter-dimensional camera that wouldn't have its memory wiped when this loop is inevitably reset.

"What are you talking about?" Annabeth asks, and Leo feels a rush of affection for her pragmatic course of thoughts. 

"I'm stuck in a time loop, I’ve been sitting with y'all having dinner for like a whole rotation of a clock, and I'mma be honest, I'm really sick of you guys."

Jason looks a little hurt by that, which wasn't Leo's intention. 

"A time loop?" Percy asks, exchanging a wary look with Annabeth. 

"Yeah, yeah, it may well be Kronos's vapor trail pulling some really short strings," Leo agrees with the sentiment behind that onimous look. "Don't know why he's doing it to me, since I never met the guy. Maybe he's trying to activate Annabeth's FOMO or something."

"I- what?" Annabeth demands. 

"You like being the hero," Leo reminds her, and yeah, he's kind of being an asshole at this particular point. "Time Daddy probably thought it’d drive you bonkers to not be his mortal nemesis- heh- or something."

"That's not funny," Percy snaps at him. 

"It ain’t supposed to be," Leo snaps right back. "In fact, I am so fucking over being funny that you can assume from here on out that everything I say is gonna be serious."

"Horseman of the apocalypse," Piper mutters. 

"Yeah, well, Pipes, when making people laugh kept them from beating you up, you kind of get into the habit," Leo says, because nothing matters. 

She sits up straight, eyes widening. 

Leo lightly smacks the table top before reaching into his belt and taking out the fortune cookie, laying it out. 

"What do you say, Hazel, wanna give it a go?"

"No!" she swipes the fortune and when Leo reaches for it, he's not expecting it to be a contest of strength, she's got him beat there, but a matter of trickery. She may also have him beat because she pulls some sleight of hand that vanishes the cookie, which is actually really cool, Leo will admit. 

"Nice," Leo tells her, leaning back with an appreciative nod. "I think it's a little like Percy's pen, though."

He reaches back into his pocket and pulls out the fortune.

[strniohoeee]

i missed youuuuu

i was thinking mattxreader spending the evening watching a movie with n and c, and reader decides to bake cookies and they all enjoy them and then they go to sleep and they just cuddle till they fall asleep

Rainy Nights

Pairing: Matt Sturniolo X Female Reader

Synopsis: After the evening plans were cancelled due to rain, Y/N and the triplets stay home to watch a movie instead☁️

Warnings⚠️: None, boring and short is all. My creativity is at a standstill. I missed you too^^ 😩🖤

Song for imagine: While We’re Young- Jhene Aiko

I'm telling everybody you're mine and I like it

And I really hope you don't mind

I can't fight it

I had been surfing every streaming app for a movie to watch. We had actual plans for the evening, but after we got dinner it started to pour. At that point we all looked at each other and silently agreed to just go home. A perfect excuse for home bodies like Matt and I.

“You’ve never seen Ghost?” I asked as my neck snapped over and my jaw dropped

“None of us have ever seen that shit before” Nick said laughing as he took a sip of his drink

“Ohhh yeah we’re watching it” I replied as I scrolled back up and clicked on the movie

“I don’t like romance movies” Chris whined as he locked his phone and threw it beside him

“Please for me, I swear you will love it” I exclaimed as I pouted

Rolling his eyes he gestured with his hand for me to go on.

Getting excited I cracked a toothy grin as I pressed play and shut the light off. Snuggling up next to Matt. His arm over my shoulder as Chris sat with his feet propped up on their coffee table, and Nick sitting on one foot.

Looking over at Matt, I gazed at his right side of his face. The tv creates a blue cast over his skin. He looked so beautiful honestly. His eyes seemed white with how icy they got. My God was he fine.. Shyly I smiled to myself.

He looked over at me before furrowing his brows.

“You okay?” he asks in a whisper

“Yes, just admiring you” I replied looking away shyly for a split second

Getting nervous he nods his head and turns back to the movie. I leaned over and planted a kiss on his cheek. His smile grew wider as he winked at me.

Standing up I cracked my back before turning to them

“I’m making cookies” I said

“Oh my gosh you're the best! Please do” Chris said begging as he slapped his hands together in a praying motion

Laughing I walked over to the kitchen and turned the light under the microwave on. Grabbing the cookie dough out the fridge I preheat the oven before setting the cookies up on the tray.

“His coworkers a fucking weirdo I dont know about him” Nick stated suspiciously

“Yeah like why is he acting like that?” Chris states adjusting his seating position.

“10 bucks says the guy will try and do some weird ass shit” Matt states

Smirking to myself I put the cookies in the oven and set a timer. Heading back over to the couch I sit down and lean into Matt. Our gaze locked in on the tv

It gets to the part where Patrick Swayze’s character gets shot. Their mouths dropping as they watch the next events unfold. Pissed by whats happening Nick sucks his teeth

“Thats fucking bullshit” Chris states as he scoffs

“It gets better just wait” I respond as the oven beeps

Swiftly getting up I make my way over to the stove to remove the cookies. Listening to the rain hit the glass window in the kitchen I place the cookies on a plate to cool down

Bringing the plate back over to the living room I sit back down. Eventually we each began to eat away at the cookies.

Somewhere in the middle of the movie Matt brings me in closer. Snuggling our bodies even more than before.

His arm draping over me I began to play with his fingers. Fiddling with the rings that lingered on some fingers.

Interlocking our fingers as I leaned over and kissed his cheek.

“I love you baby” I said to him

“I love you too” he said back kissing me

Holding hands the rest of the movie. His grip tightening subconsciously as the movie got juicier. Releasing the death grip every time a crazy scene died down.

The movie finished and I looked over. Matt and Chris' mouths wide open as Nick and I had tears in our eyes.

“No fucking way that ended like that….” Chris said standing up and bringing the plate to the kitchen

Turning the living room light on I stretched my neck

“Such a sad yet gratifying ending” I replied back

“I’m sick….this is so unfair” Nick said groaning as he wiped his eyes

“Exactly how I felt the first time I watched it” I said giggling

“I need to watch inside out to feel better….” He replied standing up and slouching over

“So was that a win? Did we like it?” I asked them

“Oh I loved it, it was great” They basically all responded

Smiling to myself I helped them tidy up the living room and kitchen.

“I think we should call it a night” Nick said as he looked at the clock reading 2:30am

Agreeing we all parted ways, following behind Matt as they shut all the lights out

Turning his light on he slid his shirt off and I slid my pants off. Brushing our teeth and then heading back into his room.

I laid in his bed as I followed behind turning his lights off and shutting his door.

Snuggling into me and pulling me closer.

“I love you so much” he replied sliding his hands up my thighs and up my arms into my hair to rub my scalp

Loosening into his touch I sighed.

“I love you too” I replied, turning over I planted a kiss to his lips

His fingers running from my scalp to my mid back. His tooth basically put me to sleep. And sooner than later we were both fast asleep embraced in each other's arms.

The End

This was trashhhhh, but what else can I say. My writing juices are GONE. This is sad LMAOOO. Thank you all for the support and I can’t believe I’m at 2507 followers. That’s amazing. I love you all.🥹🖤🖤🖤

-J💅🏽

[estrellami-1]

If I Should Stay

So… I just realized I never explained the title? It’s from Eddie’s favorite song, “I Will Always Love You”. If y’all got that, kudos! If not, congrats, you’re just like me! 😂

Part 1 | . . . | Part 21 | Part 22 | Part 23

They leave the bathroom together, Eddie bowing dramatically as he lets Steve exit first, pulling a chuckle from Steve.

His eyes find Robin as soon as they walk into the living room. He asks a silent question with his eyes—Does she know?—and gets a silent answer: No. He sighs and turns to his sister, who is already looking at him. “Can we talk?” He asks, but she’s already standing and walking towards him.

She ruffles his hair with a familiar hand, poking his arm with her other hand as she grins at him. “Sure thing, bud. Lead the way.”

Steve pauses to sigh at Robin. “Can you brainstorm? Try to figure out how?”

Robin nods seriously. “I’ll fill them in.”

Steve nods and lets himself be led away.

As soon as they’re away from the rest, tucked away in a little side room, Alli hits him with a serious look. “What’s going on, bud? I know what you look like when you cry.” She tugs a piece of his hair and gives him a sad sort of smile.

He tries to smile, but it crumples immediately. “Sorry,” he whispers, trying not to cry.

He fails at that, too, when Alli tuts and pulls him into a hug. “It’s alright, bubba,” she murmurs. She’s taller than him, and it brings him right back to being five years old, scraping his knee outside and running to her because he knew she’d console him.

A sob tears out of his throat, and he hides his face in her neck, waiting for the tears to abate again.

Eventually they do, and he pulls back to wipe at his face, smiling at Alli when she hands him a tissue. “Sorry,” he murmurs again.

She just rolls her eyes and pokes his arm again. “Quit apologizing,” she says. “Now, what’s going on? How do I help?”

He stares at her for a moment. “I love you.”

She softens. “I love you too, bubba, but I can’t help if I don’t know what’s happening.”

“Yeah.” He takes a breath, rakes a hand through his hair. “So this is gonna sound really crazy, but I’m from four years in the future. Or I think I am. Now I’m not sure, because you’re here.”

She frowns. “Do I move, or something?”

“No. Alli…” he sighs again, scrubs a hand down his face. “You-” he swallows down tears. “You died when I was six, on a girls’ trip to Indy.”

She frowns. “That doesn’t make much sense.”

“I know.” Another sigh. He’s been doing that a lot lately, he absently thinks. “That’s why I asked Robin to figure it out.”

Alli nodded. “Your girlfriend, right? Or- no, that’s Nancy—oh, the future—”

“No,” he interrupts. Can’t help the smile. “Nancy and I… something happens, in the future, in the past, and, uh. I broke up with her?”

Alli blinks. Her expression is begging for clarification, so he sighs. “In a week she calls me—and my love for her—bullshit at a party. I don’t know how much longer it is after that, but she and Jonathan Byers hook up while we’re still technically dating.”

Alli’s eyes narrow, turn calculating. “And to think I-”

“Alli,” he pleads. “It’s okay. She didn’t do anything yet, it’s all in the future, remember? But I had four years to think on it and I realized we were never really it for each other, it was just comfortable, you know?”

Alli nods. “So… is Robin it for you?”

Steve chuckles. “In a different way, yeah. She’s my best friend in the entire world. Knows more about me than anyone else. And I’d do anything for her, and I know she’d do anything for me, but… we’re not together. And we’re never gonna get together, either. Neither of us want that.”

She nods. “But you’ve found the person who’s it for you?”

Steve bites his lip. “Maybe.”

A familiar gleam appears in her eye: the one she used to get when she’d sneak him a cookie too close to dinner time. “Oh?”

Steve worries at his lip. “Promise not to hate me?”

“I could never,” she says immediately.

“Alli,” he murmurs. Hates how his voice is shaking. “I need you to promise me, please.”

She stoops to look him in the eye. “I promise,” she says seriously. “I could never hate you, Steve.”

He takes a breath, nods. “Out there right now. Um.” Another breath. “His name is Eddie.”

She grins at him. “I met him. Damn, bubba, you have a type, huh?”

Steve blushes scarlet. “Shut up,” he mumbles, but leans toward her when she tugs him into a hug, hums when her lips press to the top of his head.

“Hey.”

He lifts his head. “Yeah?”

“You know my friend Cassidy?”

Steve narrows his eyes in thought, then nods. “Yeah, you’ve known her forever.”

“Yeah.” She bites her lip on her smile, nods.

“Oh,” he whispers, then begins to laugh. “What are the odds?”

“What are the odds indeed,” she laughs.

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[notstilinski]

Your Monster Starters !

Taken from the 2024 movie, Your Monster! Some of these have already been edited. You can change them however you see fit!

“Even I feel sick being in here.”

“You need a caretaker. I can’t do it all….”

“How does it feel to be back at your moms?”

“Your mom sent you twelve pies, a hundred cookies and five thousand dollars?”

“They love to send sugar and dough when they're on a diet.”

“I’m your ride or die, bitch. Alright? Every second, every minute of every day. I’m fucking here with you, okay?”

“(Name) you are a hero and a champion. And I will call you tomorrow, okay?”

“Why don’t they love me anymore?”

“Do you mind if I… I just- I really need a hug right now.”

“I love you. Give me a big, fat hug.”

“You don’t remember me? At all?”

“I don’t know. Do you want me to hurt you?”

“Number one, don’t get in my way. Number two, don’t tell me what to do. And number three, if you tell anyone about me, I’ll rip your fucking throat out.”

“So you don’t want any sesame chicken?”

“Are you fucking blind? My eyes are dry and you’re crying.”

“This is bullshit! I don’t want to feel this way.”

“Yeah. Those two sentences mean the exact same thing.”

“You guys broke up, got it. Say no more.”

“This business is hell.”

“I failed… I failed. And now my life is over.”

“You don’t have to think. You just…. Feel your way through the words.”

“Well, tell him that he’s a limp dick, fuck face.”

“I guess, uh, that’s my time. I should… Get out.”

“Shabbat Shalom, fuckers!”

“Hey, (Name), we’re gonna steal some costumes.”

“That’s too bad. Should we take it out on the dance floor?”

“Oh my god. Do you think they saw us? Do you think they saw me? Do you think they saw us?”

“We’re not together anymore. They don’t owe me anything.”

“They fucking abandoned you and they don’t owe you anything?”

“It doesn’t have to be okay.”

“I don’t know. Maybe it’s because you’re flirting with their partner.”

“Why didn’t anybody tell me that?! Fuck.”

“No, well, actually, no. That’s not gonna work for me. I wanna talk about it right now.”

“Why do you always do that? God, you’re such a shitty friend!”

“Sorry, do you have any other friends, a family, a partner?”

“We’re talking about my behavior? Are you listening to yourself?”

“It’s hard for me to be around you. I don’t wanna be around you.”

“Why did you offer me the role, (Name)?”

“I saw you. And I wish I didn’t care, I shouldn’t care.”

“I still love you. And I wish I didn’t. I hate myself for it.”

“How, (Name)? How did you stop loving me?”

“You’re a liability. I’m sorry.”

“Well, you’re not looking me in the eye, for one thing.”

“You guys… Kiss or something?”

“You don’t know anything about love! You’re a fucking monster!”

“Of course, I didn’t want anything to do with you! Look at you!”

“You might as well roll over and fucking die!”

“I’m really sorry! Please come back!” 

“So, listen, I just wanted to say thank you for sticking up for me the other day.”

“The truth is, um, I just really wanted to check in on you, because I didn’t know you were sick.”

“What can I do? What can I do so you don’t fuck up my entire life?”

“Or I’ll rip your fucking throat out.”

[silver-ace-of-spades]

Silly Mario Incorrect Quotes From The Generator (Oops! All Koopalings (and Jr))

♤◇♧♤

*when a child starts crying in public*

Iggy: *tries to make the child laugh*

Lemmy: *tries to play a game with the child to make them calm down*

Morton: *gives instructions to the parents*

Junior: *cries with the child*

Wendy: *ignores the child*

Ludwig: *is the reason why the child is crying*

●●●

13-year-old Ludwig, when Junior was 4: You say “Please” and “Thank you” in front of Junior all the time, and he never repeats it.

Ludwig: But you call Roy “Ass-faced motherfucker” ONE TIME…

●●●

Larry: But what about Junior?

Ludwig: Don't worry about him.

Ludwig: I once watched him fall down 5 flights of stairs, stand up, and keep eating his hotdog like nothing happened.

●●●

Wendy: Dear Diary, my teen angst bullshit has a body count.

●●●

Iggy: *nudges Ludwig at 3am* Pretty fucked up that we depict the moon as a girl and the sun as a boy. They're just floating rocks in space. Ludwig? Wake up, Ludwig! Listen! They're sexless!

Ludwig: The sun isn't a rock, go back to sleep.

●●●

Roy: Today, Junior said a swear word, so Ludwig said that he was going to wash Junior's mouth out with soap. Junior replied, “It’s okay, I like the taste of soap”. Turns out, he's been putting soap on his lips to blow bubbles.

●●●

Lemmy: Help! I’m drowning!

Roy: Calm down. We’re only in six feet of water!

Lemmy: NOT ALL OF US ARE TALL!

●●●

Iggy: The greatest trick the devil ever played was getting me banned from an all you can eat pizza buffet.

Ludwig: Why’d you get banned?

Iggy: Touched the rat.

Ludwig: … What rat?

Iggy: Chunky Cheese.

●●●

Junior, jumping out of Ludwig's closet: BOO!

Ludwig:

Junior:

Ludwig:

Junior: *makes a sad face*

Ludwig: Ahh! Oh my god! You scared me!

●●●

Larry: I need a long word.

Morton: T-rex but the long one.

●●●

Larry: Wendy, I’m afraid.

Wendy: Just stay close to Iggy.

Larry: That's why I’m afraid.

●●●

Iggy: Yo dumbass, get over here.

Lemmy: Okay-

Morton: *gleefully runs past* I’m coming!

Lemmy, sadly: I thought... I was dumbass...

●●●

Larry: Iggy isn’t answering my messages.

Lemmy: Allow me.

Larry: I tried 6 times, what makes you thi-

Iggy: *replying to message* Hello.

●●●

Roy: Advice of the day kids, if you ever meet someone who calls Gatorade flavors the actual name of the flavor instead of just the color then they are a certified nerd.

Ludwig: Yeah but you have to specify, frost glacier or cool blue? You can’t just say blue because there’s more than one blue.

Roy: Blue and light blue, nice try nerd.

●●●

Iggy: What are your adjectives?

Wendy: …You mean my pronouns?

Iggy: No, I know what your pronouns are! What are your adjectives?

Wendy: …I dunno. What are yours?

Iggy: Noisy and chaotic!

Wendy: I’ve never had something go from making no sense to making complete sense so quickly.

●●●

Morton: Baby vibes... hold gentle... like hamburger.

Roy: Punt like football.

●●●

Iggy: Two truths and a lie, I’ll start!

Iggy: I’ve killed a man, I will kill again, and it burns when I pee.

Ludwig, visibly nervous: I don’t- I don’t like this game.

●●●

Wendy: What’s wrong? You look 10 seconds away from ripping someone’s throat out.

Ludwig: Fucking Lemmy and Iggy were trying to invoke one of the minor gods again last night. I didn't get an ounce of sleep, thanks to their bloody chanting.

●●●

Roy or Wendy: I will be using so much pink you’ll be seeing green by the end from sensory deprivation.

●●●

Wendy: Do you guys ever have a civilized conversation that doesn't require insulting each other every time you get a chance?

Larry: No.

Ludwig: No.

Wendy: Didn't think so.

●●●

Police: You’re under arrest for trying to carry three people on a single motorcycle.

Iggy, with Morton and Lemmy behind him: Wait, what do you mean THREE?!

Police: Yes…three.

Iggy: Oh, my God— What the fuck!?

Police: Wha-

Iggy: Junior FUCKING FELL OFF!

●●●

Junior, holding out a cookie for Ludwig: Look! This ones a heart, that’s how I feel about you!

Ludwig: *Ugly crying*

Junior, holding out another cookie for Lemmy: This ones like Michigan, that’s how I feel about you!

Lemmy, throwing his hands in the air: What does that mean?!

●●●

Ludwig: So, Lemmy is no longer allowed to take the trash out at night.

Roy: Why?

Ludwig: Because I've caught him trying to train raccoons to fight five times in a row.

Lemmy, arms crossed and pouting: You'll be thanking me when the third raccoon battalion saves your ass.

●●●

Roy: Wait, if baby oil dissolves condoms, what does it do to babies?

Iggy: Believe it or not, babies and condoms are made of different materials.

Lemmy: It’s like rock paper scissors. Baby oil defeats condom, baby defeats baby oil, condom defeats baby.

Larry: Rock also defeats baby.

●●●

Junior: I'm very scary.

Roy: You're about as scary as a wet kitten.

Junior: Wet kittens are cute, at least I've got that going for me.

Roy: And small.

Junior:

Junior: ...Yeah, yeah. I guess.

●●●

Ludwig, to the rest of the Koopalings: None of you know what propaganda is, do you?

Roy: I think it’s when a British person takes a good look at something.

●●●

Junior: The saying “it is better to beg forgiveness than to ask permission” no longer applies to Roy.

●●●

Wendy: My diamond earring came off in the ocean and it's gone!

Junior: Wendy, there's people that are dying.

●●●

Morton: When I get Doordash I order 20 Cheeseburgers at a time and heat them up throughout the week so that I don’t have to pay the delivery fee multiple times.

Wendy: I hope you understand how food poisoning works.

Morton: I hope food poisoning understands how I work. I never met a burger I couldn’t eat.

●●●

Iggy, having recently lost his glasses: KILL THE BUG!!!

Larry: ....That’s a gecko—

●●●

Ludwig: I think you're still suffering the effects of your party last night.

Roy: All I drank was Redbull!

Ludwig: How many?

Roy: Eighteen.

●●●

Lemmy: honk.

Ludwig: WHAT.

Lemmy: HONK.

Ludwig: WHAT DOES HONK MEAN THIS TIME YOU WHIMSICAL PIECE OF SHIT?????

●●●

Morton: *coughs blood*

Iggy: Don't die, Morton!

Morton: Don't tell me what to do!

●●●

Lemmy, skipping rocks on a lake with Iggy: It’s such a beautiful evening.

Iggy: Yeah, it is.

Iggy: *whispering* Take that you fucking lake.

●●●

Ludwig: You shouldn't be using a straw.

Roy: I know, I know, it's bad for the environment and stuff.

Ludwig: Yeah, but I mean... it's a weird way to eat spaghetti.

●●●

Ludwig: Junior, please calm down.

Junior: I asked for two large fries!

Junior: *dumps fries onto table*

Junior: But all they did was give me a MILLION FREAKING LITTLE ONES!

●●●

Junior: Onion rings are vegetable donuts.

Wendy, used to Junior being dumb: Sure...

Junior: Your stomach thinks all potatoes are mashed.

Wendy: Okay?

Junior: Lasagna is spaghetti flavored cake.

Wendy:

Junior: Lobsters are mermaid scorpio-

Wendy: Jesus, that one is a little-

Morton, interested: No, no, Junior, keep going.

●●●

Roy: Coca Cola is a health potion, Pepsi is a mana potion.

Larry: What’s grape soda?

Roy: It’s fucking purple baby!!!

●●●

Ludwig: What’s your favorite color?

Roy: Stop asking stupid questions. Ask me something logical and mature.

Ludwig: How many moles of sodium bicarbonate are needed to neutralize 0.8ml of sulfuric acid at STP?

Roy: My favorite color is pink.

●●●

Morton: *makes Junior a cup of tea but accidentally puts salt in it*

Junior: *sips tea*

Morton:

Junior: *finishes tea*

Morton: Didn't it taste bad?

Junior: Yeah, but I didn't want to hurt your feelings so I drank it all.

Morton, tearing up: Oh, okay.

●●●

Roy: I can't believe you've done this.....

Larry: I'm sorry I didn't know-!

Roy, on the verge of tears: YOU CAN'T JUST BUY ME A GIFT OUT OF NOWHERE NOW I FEEL LIKE A HUGE ASSHOLE!

●●●

Ludwig: This is a bad idea.

Lemmy: Then why are you coming along?

Ludwig: Someone has to get your injured ass home.

●●●

Roy, in a horrible German accent: Bill Nye is on break, I'm Bill Nein.

Lemmy: Can I go to the bathroom?

Roy, in the same horrible German accent: Nein!

●●●

Wendy: *Turns on the kitchen light*

Iggy: *Sitting at the table, eating bread*

Wendy: It’s four in the morning.

Iggy: Turn the light back off.

●●●

Iggy: So Junior, how did your first time cooking dinner go?

Junior: Pretty good if I do say so myself.

Iggy: Ooh! Okay, what are we having?

Junior: Alright, so for appetizers, we have a potato.

Iggy: A whole potato?

Junior: Yes. And then for the main course, we have grilled cheese sandwiches!

Iggy: These just look like big slabs of black.

Junior: Because that's what they are!

Junior: And then for desert, we have chocolate.

Iggy: These are just chocolate chips?

Junior: They sure are!

Junior: And then for drinks, we have toast!

Junior: *lifts up a glass of blended toast* Bon appetit!

●●●

Larry: *holding a salt packet* It’s just a little sodium chloride.

Ludwig: Actually Larry, it’s salt.

Larry: That’s what I said, sodium chloride.

Ludwig: Uh Larry, that would be salt.

Ludwig: *takes salt packer from Larry* This is iodized table salt, which in addition to sodium chloride contains anti-caking agents and potassium iodate, which is added to prevent iodine deficiency. So not only are you being overly pretentious by insisting on using scientific terminology for everyday items, you are factually wrong. Your arrogance is your downfall, you annoying little shit.

●●●

Lemmy: I'm having problems with a guy...

Wendy: Like his dead body won't fit into your trunk kind of problems, or you like him kind of problems?

●●●

Ludwig: New year, same me. Because I'm perfect.

●●●

Junior: What the frick.

Junior: ESPN is showing 2003 national jump rope championship.

Junior: Who the heck watches jump rope competiti- ooh bouncy.

●●●

Lemmy: Iggy just insisted Morton and I remember a code word in case we’re ever confronted by his clone or a cyborg doppelgänger and we’re not sure which is the real him and which is the imposter.

Lemmy: Some families have a fire escape plan, but not us.

●●●

Wendy: I’m not like other girls. I’m way, way worse.

●●●

Iggy, watching a TV show about Luigi: I think I should be allowed on ghost hunter tv shows.

Larry: I think that would be dangerous for the ghosts.

●●●

Roy: Can I borrow five dollars?

Ludwig: If you’re only borrowing it, does that mean you’ll pay me back?

Roy: Of course.

Roy: Not directly, but with my love and affection.

Ludwig: So that’s a no.

●●●

Junior: BWWAAAAAAAAAA! Oh, you hear that? That's the wrong opinion alarm.

Ludwig: That is not something you actually have installed.

Junior: Sorry, say again? I couldn't hear you over my alarm that YOU SET OFF with your WRONG-ASS OPINION.

●●●

Wendy: What did you two do?

Iggy:

Lemmy:

Wendy: You’re not in trouble, I just need to know if I have to lie to the police again or not.

●●●

Ludwig: "Ignorance more frequently begets confidence than does knowledge" - Charles Darwin

Larry: What the fuck? Begets isn't a word. Quit trying to make up words, fuckface.

●●●

Wendy: What's worse than a heartbreak?

Larry : Waking up in the morning and your phone wasn't charging.

Morton: Waking up in the morning.

Roy: Waking up.

Ludwig: Waking up in the morning...

Ludwig: And seeing Iggy.

Iggy: Hey! Rude!!

●●●

Ludwig: What do you all intend on majoring in?

Morton: Respecting women.

Larry: Minecraft.

Wendy: Criminal justice and psychology.

Iggy: I'm terrified that I’ll lock myself into an interest that I’ll no longer be passionate about in a few years like all the other areas of study I’ve pursued over my life!

Lemmy: Minecraft as well.

●●●

Lemmy: Of course I have a lot of pent-up rage, you fool! I've been the same height since I was twelve!

●●●

Junior, to Bowser: Ludwig called me the b-word!

Ludwig: "Motherfucker" doesn't begin with b.

●●●

Junior: Do you ever feel bugs on you when really there’s nothing there?

Roy: Those are the ghosts of the bugs you killed before.

Junior:

Junior: *sobs*

Morton: You fucking scared him, you idiot.

●●●

Ludwig: Have I ever told you that you cook well?

Junior: Awww, no, you haven't!

Ludwig: So why do you keep cooking?

●●●

Roy: We all have our demons.

Iggy, grabbing Lemmy: This one’s mine!

●●●

Wendy: *sighs*

Morton: You bored?

Wendy: Yeah.

Morton: Wanna start drama for no reason?

Wendy: I thought you’d never ask.

●●●

Ludwig: If you ever feel stupid or weak or powerless, just remember that I am not. I am out there, very dangerous, and I am looking for you. Good luck.

●●●

Junior: When I first got my autism diagnosis, my first thought was “woah… it’s canon” and I think that maybe thoughts like that is why Dad made me get tested.

●●●

Ludwig: Hey, quick question. How petty am I allowed to be?

●●●

Ludwig: “Ladies and gentlemen” is unnecessarily gendered, overly formal, lengthy, and honestly, I’m falling asleep already. “Cowards” on the other hand, is inclusive to all genders, to the point, and dramatic.

●●●

Iggy: It's not like I try to blow things up, exactly. It just sort of happens. You've got to admit though, fire is fascinating.

●●●

Iggy: I’d kill someone if you asked me to.

Lemmy: I’m pretty sure you’d kill someone even if I didn’t ask you to.

●●●

Iggy: "Go hang a salami" backwards is "I'm a lasagna hog".

Ludwig: How did either of those sentences occur naturally for you to discover this?

●●●

Ludwig: Lemmy, if you don't shut up I'm going to throw myself out of the car.

*click*

Ludwig: DID YOU JUST TURN THE FUCKING CHILDRENS' LOCK ON?!

●●●

Roy: *Takes a sip of milk and gags*

Roy: Oh my god, is this expired?

Roy: *Takes another sip of milk*

●●●

Iggy: I'm hot, I’m tall, I'm gay, and I'm on my theatre kid arc.

●●●

Ludwig: Stop thinking whatever you're thinking.

Lemmy: Huh?

Ludwig: You always make that face when you're about to say something stupid just to piss me off. So cut it out-

Lemmy: I love you.

Ludwig:

Lemmy:

Lemmy: Also, cereal qualifies as a soup.

Ludwig: I KNEW IT!!

●●●

Iggy, near tears: Please, Junior, I don’t speak meme! I don't know what a 'yeet' is!

●●●

*Lemmy shoots a gun in the lounge room while Ludwig is chilling*

Ludwig: This is why Dad doesn’t FUCKING love you!

*Lemmy runs off while snickering*

●●●

Roy: Uh, I think I got your lunch. *Holds up a note that reads: ‘I am very proud of you. Love, Dad’*

Ludwig: Oh yeah. I didn’t think this was for me. *Holds up a note that reads: ‘Be good. For the love of God, Please be good.’*

●●●

Roy: Ludwig? I mixed redbull with coffee and now I can see sounds, should I worry?

Ludwig: Roy, I swear to god—

●●●

Wendy: I'm gonna nickname my child "Lil Bitch".

Junior: I see you're passing on your name.

●●●

Ludwig: You’re giving me a sticker?

Iggy: Not just a sticker. That is a sticker of a kitty saying “me-wow!”

Ludwig: I’m not a preschooler.

Iggy: Fine, I’ll take it back-

Ludwig: I earned this, back off!

●●●

Ludwig, texting: Answer your phone

Larry, texting back: Wait a minute, I can’t find my phone

Ludwig: Understood

Ludwig, 5 minutes later: You’re a terrible person. You know you’re killing me. You’re killing me, Larry.

●●●

*The Koopalings are playing Chess*

Ludwig: *easily beats everyone because he knows how to play*

Iggy: *doesn’t know the rules, but wins anyway*

Lemmy: *doesn’t know the rules, and loses*

Wendy: *knows the rules, but still loses to those who don’t*

Roy and Junior: Actually, you can’t do that, because I said so.

Larry and Morton: They named a board game after cheese?

●●●

Iggy: Inside you, there are two kidneys.

Iggy: I’m gonna steal them.

●●●

Ludwig: When I was your age-

Iggy, mocking Ludwig: When I was your height.

Ludwig:

Ludwig: Listen here you little shit-

●●●

Iggy: Being smart has never stopped me from being a complete fucking idiot.

●●●

Lemmy: Everyone thinks I'm this soft cute person but I'm not!

Ludwig: Lemmy, you cried for an hour after stepping on a bug yesterday.

Lemmy: It had feelings! It was probably going home to dinner and I killed it!

Wendy: ...It was a bug.

Lemmy: It was a BEETLE, and its wife is definitely worried sick, wondering where it is, and I really don't get why you all think I'm so sentimental because I'm not!

Ludwig: ...

Wendy: ...

Lemmy: Stop looking at me like that!

●●●

Ludwig: I hate to disagree with you, but-

Larry: Please, you love to disagree with me. Its your favorite thing to do.

●●●

Roy: Are you okay?

Junior, crying: Yeah, it was just the onions.

Roy: *Picks up an onion* What the fuck did you say to Junior?

●●●

Morton (5 years in the future): What are you drinking?

Iggy (now 19): Vodka.

Morton: Straight?

Iggy: No, gay. Why?

●●●

Roy: Valentines Day? I'm ready. *Sprays an entire can of AXE body spray on himself*

●●●

Wendy: You read my diary?

Iggy: At first I did not know it was your diary. I thought it was a very sad handwritten book.

●●●

Lemmy: I told Junior to grab snacks for everyone.

Ludwig, looking through the options: Why did you grab fruit snacks? Are you five? Who even likes Fruit Snacks?

*Lemmy, Junior, and Larry raise their hands*

●●●

Iggy: Today at 7 am, Roy poured a Monster energy drink in his coffee, said "I'm going to die" and drank the whole thing.

Larry: I watched Roy brew his coffee with Monster instead of water. Three cups in two hours. I think he ascended into the astral realm.

Ludwig: The survivability of Koopas never fails to amaze me.

●●●

Wendy: Hi, could I ask how exactly does one accidentally set a lemon on fire??

Iggy: Microwave for 40 minutes. 😔

Junior: Why were you microwaving a lemon???

Iggy: I read boiling lemons helps cover up up bad smells (I wanted to cover up the scent of burnt oranges) but I didn't own any pots.

Larry: Did you burn an orange too? How???

●●●

Iggy: Microwave for 40 minutes. 😔

●●●

Roy, some time after turning 18: I am a responsible adult!

Larry, now a teenager: *raises brow*

Roy: I am an adult.

Junior: Hey, you wanna know a secret?

Wendy: No.

Junior: Okay.

Wendy:

Wendy: Do you smell smoke?

Junior: The secret is that the house is on fire.

●●●

Roy: Damn, the power went out.

Junior: Don’t worry, I got this.

Junior: *stomps foot*

Roy: What-?

Junior: *Sketchers light up*

●●●

Ludwig: *bites lip* Has anyone ever told you how beautiful you are?

Cop: That isn’t gonna work, hands behind your back.

●●●

Iggy: *chokes on something*

Morton: Jeez, Iggy, don't die on us.

Iggy: Don't tell me what to do, I'll die whenever the hell I want!

●●●

Larry: Good. Thanks, dad.

Junior: You just called Ludwig “dad”. You just said “thanks, dad.”

Larry: What? No, I didn’t. I said “thanks, man”.

Ludwig: Do you see me as a father figure, Larry?

Larry: No. If anything I see you as a bother figure ‘cause you’re always bothering me.

Wendy: Hey! Show your father some respect!

●●●

Larry: *spits mouthful of blood onto floor* You’ve become far more powerful since we last crossed paths.

Dentist: Please stop, there’s literally a sink right next to you.

●●●

Roy: Guess what number I’m thinking of.

Ludwig: 420?

Roy: No, that’s really immature of you. Someone else guess, and please take this seriously.

Lemmy: 69.

Roy: Yeah it was 69.

●●●

Wendy: What kinds of sounds annoy you?

Iggy: Are we talking real sounds or imaginary ones?

Wendy, now interested: Lets say imaginary.

Iggy: Spiders wearing flip flops.

●●●

*The Koopalings are at Home Depot*

Junior: *Fell in the cacti display while wandering around the garden section*

Iggy: *Shitting in the display toilets*

Morton and Larry: *Tokyo Drifting one of those flatbed carts down the aisles*

Wendy: *Stealing paint chips for aesthetic purposes*

Ludwig: *Just wanted some goddamn lightbulbs and everyone ruined it*

Roy and Lemmy: *In the car sleeping*

●●●

Ludwig, at Bowser's wedding: What the hell were you thinking?

Lemmy: I heard releasing birds at a wedding is romantic!

Ludwig: You released OSTRICHES!

●●●

*at a zoo*

Junior: What are they in for?

Wendy: Junior, this isn't prison.

Junior: So they can leave?

Wendy: No, but-

Junior, pointing at a meerkat: I bet that one murdered someone.

●●●

Lemmy: iuegrukfhoeuhfeoruhf

Ludwig: What is that?

Lemmy: it’s a keyboard smash

Ludwig: How do I do it?

Lemmy: just press anything

Ludwig: 7

●●●

Junior: Get your hand off my shield!

Wendy: There's like a million other shields.

Junior: Take that one, it has a flower on it. Girls like flowers.

Wendy: *hits Junior with the shield* Oops! Now this one has blood on it.

●●●

Roy: How would you like your coffee?

Junior: As dark as my soul.

Roy: Got it, one cup of milk coming right up!

●●●

Roy: *casually taking four stairs at a time*

Junior, falling behind, taking two stairs at a time: Fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fu-

●●●

Wendy: I currently have 7 empty notebooks and I have no idea what to put in them. Any suggestions?

Junior: Put spaghetti in it.

Wendy: I am currently taking suggestions from everyone but you.

Larry: Put spaghetti in it.

Wendy: I am currently taking suggestions from everyone but you two.

Roy: Put spaghetti in it.

Wendy: I am no longer taking suggestions.

[fizzigigsimmer]

Back At One Part 2

Pairing: Caligator, Billy Hargrove x Gator Tillman

Fandom Fusion: Stranger Things & Fargo S5

Dom/Sub au

*Title taken from this truly sappy love song by Brian McKnight that these boys would NEVER admit was kinda okay lol.

<<<<PART I

“When is that fella of yours gonna make an honest man out of you?" Dot asks, just as Gator reaches for the pans stacked on top of the fridge, and he jerks, pulling too quickly, sending a cookie sheet clattering toward the kitchen floor - he just manages to save it. Scotty raises the cover of her book to hide her face, but his ears work just fine and he hears her snicker.

"What do you mean?" he gripes as he fumbles with the cookware. This is what he gets for trying to do something nice for his boyfriend on his birthday. "Billy's already registered as my dominant."

Which means if Gator really does burn the house down trying to make this fucking cake, Billy can have the honor of identifying his barbecued remains and save Dot the trouble.

Dot’s giving him this look though. Like she can see right through his bullshit. Let's get real. She always could read him like a book and play him like a fiddle.

“Alright, lets bake this mother fu-uuning,cake” Gator self corrects, remembering Scotty at the last minute. Shit that was close. Dot only has a few rules for when they’re together: no talking about the past when Scotty’s in earshot and no potty mouth. She literally calls it that. It’s kind of annoying though, cause the kid is like twelve right? Gator could curse in three different languages by the time he was twelve. But apparently that’s not the thing to be proud of that he thought it was when he was twelve.

“Real nice save Hon.” Dot laughs at him.

“Yeah yeah. Let’s just do this.” Gator grumbles in reply, and they do. 

Dot ties an apron around Gator's waist and hands him a mixing bowl while Scotty eagerly climbs up on a stool to read out the recipe as they work. She’s only meant to be walking him through the basics of a simple white cake with Billy’s name spelled out on it, but somehow the kitchen quickly descends into chaos. 

"Okay, first we need to cream the butter and sugar together until light and fluffy," Scotty reads.

Gator dumps an entire stick of butter and a heaping cup of sugar into the bowl. He picks up the electric mixer and jams it in after, cause that much he can figure out for himself. Only it sends a plume of sugar into the air the minute he powers it on. 

“Holy shit!”

"No, silly!" Scotty giggles. "You have to soften the butter first or it won't mix right."

Grumbling, Gator fishes the hard butter out of the bowl and tosses it into the microwave. A few seconds later, there's a loud pop - because he’s a fucking idiot and apparently it doesn’t take more than a few seconds to warm butter. One glance inside confirms the worst: the stick is now a molten mess, and butter drips down the microwave door.

"Oh honey," Dot sighs, grabbing a towel to wipe up the mess. "Just grab another stick and leave it on the counter for a bit to soften."

“Jesus. Come on. Get your head in the game!” Gator admonishes himself, trying to shake off his embarrassment and the feeling of shame welling up inside of him from fucking up something so simple. “I have cooked before. I’m just -”

What? Nervous? Fucking stupid? What else is there to say when he can’t even melt butter.

Dot lays a hand on his back. She doesn’t need to say anything, and she doesn’t as she hands him a clean bowl and Scotty reads out from Dot’s phone that it’s time to sift the dry ingredients together. He upends the bag of flour over the sifter, and thinks it might be too much. It definitely is, because he doesn’t get more than a few taps in before flour has started to overflow everywhere, dusting his hands and the arms of his black t-shirt. But hey, some of it is getting into the bowl.

Somehow with Dot's patient guidance and Scotty's enthusiastic "assistance", they manage to get the cake batter mixed and poured into pans. Gator slides them into the oven, sets the timer, and leans back against the counter with a sigh, his shirt and jeans thoroughly dusted with flour, bits of batter streaked in between.

Dot chuckles as she hands him a damp towel. "Well, that was an adventure. I think Billy will appreciate the effort you put in, even if it's not perfect."

Gator wipes his hands and grumbles. "It better turn out decent after all that. I still think I shoulda gotten him something else though. Something big, to really wow him, y'know?"

Dot studies him for a long moment, and then finally broaches the subject that has been festering like a smelly turd in the corner of the room.

"Want to talk about what happened at the store today?"

No. No he really fucking doesn’t. Gator turns to snap on the faucet, thinking that he’d like to stick his head under it and drown himself right about now. He focuses intently on scrubbing the batter caked on his nails instead.

"Nothin' happened. She was a stuck-up bitch is all. Lookin' down on me like I'm nothin' just 'cause I ain't some fancy dom in a suit."

He hears Dot murmur something quietly to Scotty about going to get her things together, and grunts in acknowledgment when the twerp says a shy goodbye before slipping from the room. He immediately feels like shit, because Dot can’t really punish him anymore - it’s not her place, and she’s got too much respect for Billy to overstep - but she can take away the one thing she knows he really wants. He wasn’t ready for them to leave, but he can’t blame Dot for not wanting her kid around him when he’s like this.

Her family is not something that Dot plays around with, and Gator might be someone she cares about, but there’s a stark line between whatever the hell they are to each other and the beautiful thing Nadine - fuck - Dot, built for herself with her own grit and guts in the aftermath of the Tillmans.

He understands. He gets it. He does. And yet he still flinches when she speaks again, body somehow unprepared for her to still be there even though he would have heard her leave if she wasn’t.

"She shouldn't have treated you that way," Dot says softly. "But Gator, how you reacted wasn’t like you. I haven’t seen you do something that rash in a long time. What’s this really about?”

Gator's jaw clenches and his hands still, suds dripping from his fingers into the sink. The air grows heavy with all the things unsaid between them.

"It’s nothin'. Alright?" he mutters unconvincingly. "I lost my cool is all. Won't happen again."

Dot sighs and leans her hip against the counter next to him, arms crossed. Her eyes are filled with gentle understanding and he hates it. Hates how much it reminds him of his mom, and all the times after, when she was gone and it was Dot standing in her place, filling the void as best she could. Hates most of all that he’s never been strong enough to resist the comfort Dot offers and the temptation to fall apart in her arms. She was his safety, even when safety was a lie and she was just a kid who couldn’t do shit to keep herself safe, let alone him.

But no matter how hard Gator had tried, he’d never stopped needing someone to lean on and take him apart and clean out his rust and dust, to put back together again good as new. That’s his curse, the sub in him, which is hard to swallow most days but Billy makes it better. No one does any of that for him like Billy Hargrove does. Even when Gator makes it hard on him, Billy always knows just which way he’s bent and how to fix it. Yeah it bugs the shit out of him, but he wouldn’t know what the hell to do with himself now without it. If Billy left he’d -

Stop that shit! He flinches away from the thoughts, and reminds himself for the umpteenth time that Billy isn’t going to leave him over some dumb shit like a lame birthday gift. He needs to just quit already. Why can’t he make the thoughts stop?

"You've been doing so well lately, Gator. Really making progress in therapy, communicating better when you’re dropping... What happened today?" Dot presses again.

Gator's throat works as he swallows hard. His hands clench the edge of the sink, knuckles going white. He doesn’t want to talk about this but maybe it will help. God he hopes it helps.

"I just... I wanted to get him somethin' special, y'know? Somethin' to show him how much he means to me." His voice cracks slightly on the last word and Dot's face softens. She reaches for him, laying a hand on his shoulder. 

"Oh honey... Billy knows how much you love him. You don't need fancy gifts to prove that."

"Don't I though?" Gator argues, a bitter edge creeping into his tone. "He does so much for me, Dot. Takes such good care of me, even when I'm a pain in the ass. And, like when am I not a pain in the ass, huh? You were gonna kick his ass and like send him to the Gulag. How am I worth that?”

Dot laughs, giving Gator's shoulder a gentle squeeze. "Listen to me. You are a pain in the ass, but only when you’re trying so hard not to be the sweet, kind, and wonderful man I know you are. You're a good boy, Gator. You always have been. And yes, at first I was worried when I found out your Saftey-Dom had a thing for you. Who wouldn’t be?”

Gator shrugs away her very good point - doms who are employed to counsel and provide subs with therapeutic care are bound by a strict code of ethics. Billy could have been in deep shit if anyone other than Dot had found out about their relationship before Billy stopped being his therapy dom.

“I kissed him Dot, and he never let it happen again while I was still just a case.” Gator laments. “That’s what I’m talking about though, all I could do was think with my dick - meanwhile I could have seriously fucked up his life. And he still took care of me!”

“He did. Which is what convinced me he’s the best thing for you.” Dot says. “It’s because he loves you for who you are, flaws and all."

Gator shakes his head, jaw tight. "You don't get it, Dot. I'm not...I'm not good like you keep saying. The shit that goes through my head sometimes…”

He trails off, shame burning hot in his gut. He can't even bring himself to say it out loud. But with Dot he doesn’t need to. 

She was there through the worst of it. She’s seen the worst of him. Shit Billy knows about, but hasn’t seen. Hasn’t really lived it, the way Dot had to live it, and maybe that’s why Gator’s been fucking everything up. 

Maybe he’s trying to see once and for all whether or not someone who isn’t trauma bonded to him will stay once they see him for what he really is.

"I know I'm fucked up, alright? I know I got a long way to go before I'm anything close to the kinda sub Billy deserves.” He tries to shrug off the admission like the words aren’t sending pain twisting inside him like a knife.

But Dot, perceptive as always, cups Gator's face, turning him back to meet her gentle gaze. "Oh honey... Is that what this is about? You want Billy to collar you?"

Gator's breath hitches. Hearing it stated so plainly sends a jolt through him, equal parts longing and terror. He jerks away from Dot's touch, arms wrapping defensively around himself.

"No! I mean... Fuck, I don't know," he stammers, the words tangling on his tongue.

Dot is quiet for a long moment, letting his confession settle heavily between them. When she speaks again, her tone is thoughtful.

"Have you talked to Billy about this? About wanting his collar?"

Gator barks out a harsh laugh. "No. No fuckin' way. He'd probably laugh in my face if I did.”

Dot's brow furrows, her eyes shadowed with concern as she clicks her tongue in admonishment. "I don’t believe you really think that for a second. That Billy would laugh at you for expressing your needs."

Gator's shoulders hunch, defensive. He keeps his gaze fixed resolutely on the mixing bowl in the sink, watching the dregs of batter slowly dissolve under the running tap. The sweet scent of vanilla and butter hangs heavy in the air, incongruously cheerful.

"I didn't say I needed it," he mutters. "I'm just sayin'... a guy like me askin' for a collar. It's funny right? Like, I’m not some needy bitch who needs a collar to keep from dropping, and I don’t need Billy thinking he gets to boss me around more than he already does. Guy’s an absolute control freak."

"Uh-huh and you love it. I've seen the two of you together. The way Billy is with you... It's special. He'd move heaven and earth to make you happy. To give you what you need." Dot says. Her voice is soft but sure.

Gator swallows thickly, his eyes stinging. He blinks rapidly, determined not to let the tears building behind his lids fall. "Sure. Why hasn’t he done it then? I’d put that shit down in two seconds, but he hasn’t even tried. Y’know?"

And the reason why is obvious. Yeah, there’s the fact that Gator doesn’t need a collar, but even if he wanted one he’s too much work, too damaged.

Dot sighs heavily, like he said the last part out loud.

"Honestly Honey, I think you should think about it from his perspective. With the way you talk about it... He may not realize how much this would mean to you. Billy does a good job, making sense of what’s going on in that squirrel head of yours but he’s not superman. Talk to him.”

Gator grunts noncommittally. Because hell no. He will not be begging his dom to collar him any time soon thanks, but he doesn’t want her to worry either. 

Dot says she has to get Scotty home in time to start dinner and he follows her out to the front door where Scotty is waiting with Dot's purse and her school bag. He sees them off with a wave and a promise to attend some talent show at Scotty’s school next week. Dot gives him a kiss on the cheek, urges him to talk to Billy one more time and reminds him that her mother-in-law knows the president, and really can get Billy thrown in the gulag if he really does laugh in Gator’s face.

And then he’s alone. Alone with his thoughts. Which is frankly the best way to be. Gator can think much more clearly about this now that Dot’s not here, reminding him of the past and making him feel weaker than he actually is. He can totally still salvage this situation. He’ll just make the cake really impressive. Like those 3D ones that look like real shit? Billy loves to chill with him on the weekend and watch that show where people try and guess which random item is cake or not. Gator’s usually tied up, plugged or gagged when that happens so his memories are a little hazy - but it doesn’t look that hard. It’s just cake right?

When the timer goes off Gator brings the cake out of the oven.

He whips out his phone and starts scrolling through cake decorating videos on YouTube, determined to find something suitably impressive. His eyes light up when he spots a tutorial for a realistic 3D surfboard cake, uploaded by some fruit calling himself Barry Bakes. He doesn’t really want to take advice from some dude with pink hair, a full face of makeup, wearing a sparkly crop top with the word TWINK encrusted on the front, but the cake is undeniably badass.

"Alright, let's do this," Gator mutters, cracking his knuckles. He fast forwards through the beginning of the video, impatient to get to the good stuff.

First step - carving the cakes into a surfboard shape. Easy enough. Gator grabs a serrated knife and starts hacking away at the layers, tongue poking out the corner of his mouth in concentration. Crumbs fly everywhere as he saws off uneven chunks. When he's done, he steps back to survey his work. It...sort of looks like a surfboard. If you squint. And tilt your head to the side.

Next up - the "ocean" frosting. Gator mixes a batch of blue buttercream, dumping in what is probably way too much food coloring, but whatever at least he softened the butter without blowing up the microwave this time.

Gator continues to follow along with Barry Bakes' tutorial, growing increasingly frustrated as each step seems to go awry. The blue buttercream frosting he mixed up is a garish turquoise color from the excessive food dye. It's also too thin and runny, dripping off the cake in gloopy rivulets.

He blames Barry, that fucking fruit, because if he weren’t so hell bent on turning everything into some kinda innuendo maybe Gator could actually concentrate on what he is doing!

"Shit shit shit," Gator grumbles under his breath, frantically trying to smooth the messy frosting over the lopsided surfboard shape he carved. It's a losing battle. The cake looks like a melted smurf.

Next, Barry cheerfully pipes delicate white frosting swirls and curls to create realistic seafoam on his perfectly smooth blue surfboard. Reminding the audience that big tips are better for piping, and everybody loves a good pipe.

Gator glares at the screen. His own piping bag is loaded with frosting that's somehow both too stiff and too drippy at the same time. When he tries to pipe, it comes out in sad, deflated spurts. He can only imagine what Barry would have to say about that.

"Motherf-!" Gator bites off the curse, chucking the piping bag down on the counter. This was a stupid idea. He's no baker, who was he kidding? He should've just bought Billy a damn gift card like a normal person.

Dejected, Gator slumps against the counter, hanging his head. Failure churns in his gut, sharp and nauseating. He can't give this monstrosity to Billy. He just can’t. Can’t bear to watch him try to hide his disappointment.

Frustrated and embarrassed, Gator gives up on trying to salvage the cake. In a fit of pique, he grabs a spatula and starts roughly shaping the blue frosted mess, not even bothering to smooth it out anymore. He carves angry slashes and gouges into the cake's surface with the edge of the spatula.

Before he even fully realizes what he's doing, the cake has taken on a new, crude shape under his hands - a lumpy, misshapen hand with the middle finger extended in an unmistakable gesture of "fuck you".

Gator steps back, breathing hard, and stares at his handiwork. The hand is far from anatomically correct, with uneven sausage-like fingers and a palm that curves at an odd angle. Globs of sticky frosting cling to the digits in gloopy turquoise clumps. The raised middle finger lists slightly to the side, like it's too heavy to hold itself up properly.

It's possibly the ugliest cake Gator has ever seen. So ugly it crosses the line twice and becomes perversely impressive in its sheer awfulness. A surprised, slightly unhinged laugh bubbles up from his chest as he takes it in.

This is what he has to show for his efforts. This fuck-ugly, lewd gesture of a cake, cobbled together from the dregs of his failure. It suits him.

“Yeah don’t know what the fuck else I expected.” Gator grumbles, despondent. He goes to the fridge to fetch a beer and tabs it open roughly, determined to drink thoughts of the stupid cake away. 

He’s not crying over cake like some lame ass. It’s whatever. It’ll probably still taste good, and if Billy doesn’t like it he can throw it in the trash. They’ll order a pizza or something and Gator will ride him till his dick goes numb and call it a night. Happy birthday.

Gator stomps to the bedroom he and Billy share and pulls out the trunk where he keeps his hunting gear from under the bed, because it’s been awhile since he polished his knives and that always helps lift his mood. He takes the trunk out to the living room and gets to work. Ques up his workout playlist on his phone and connects it to the TV so he can put it on blast.

It helps a little. Allows him time not to think. But the time gets away from him, because he doesn’t even hear the sound of the front door opening and closing. 

Billy's entrance is marked by the faint scrape of his boots against the hardwood floor as he turns the corner into the living room. He pauses briefly, taking in the scene before him—Gator, surrounded by an array of gleaming knives, his trunk spilling open on the coffee table, and the ear splitting rifts of heavy metal blaring from the television speakers.

A faint smile tugs at Billy's lips as the dom sets down his bag and sheds his leather jacket, revealing the broad contours of his chest hugged by a tight white T-shirt. The room is thick with the scent of metal and leather, a comforting familiarity that wraps around Billy like a second skin. He approaches Gator slowly, noiselessly, his gaze fixed not on the array of blades but on the man holding them as gently as baby chicks.

Billy casts a long shadow across the coach and Gator finally notices him. He jumps up, fumbling the knife in his hands which clatters to the floor. The music crescendos, a dramatic backdrop to the moment. Gator lowers the volume, and whips around to glare at Billy who laughs at the fright he gave him.

“Hey, Baby Gay.”

“Don’t call me that!” Gator snaps. “And don’t sneak up on me. I was like, this close to killing you!”

“Oh?” Billy arches a mocking brow. “Probably shouldn’t have dropped the knife then.”

“Haha. Very funny asshole. You’re lucky I did,” Gator grumbles in reply, bending down to pick up the fallen knife. “You know how sharp one of these babies are? With one o’ these I can cut through the shell on a coconut just like that.”

He flicks his wrist to demonstrate the ease with which he could peel Billy’s flesh off, and Billy gives him this look - like Gator is just fucking adorable - and it’s god damn condescending, is what it is. But it also makes the back of Gator’s neck tingle with awareness, and his dick try to get hard. So yeah.

It’s probably a good thing that Billy’s so distracted anyway. Because swearing at his dom is firmly against their rules on account of the fact that Gator uses it as some kinda defense mechanism to keep Billy at arms length.

Or that’s what Billy said anyway when he made the stupid rule. Gator doesn’t make the rules here, he just follows them.

“I’ll count myself lucky then. I think I’ll get a beer. You want one killer?” Billy asks, already on his way to the kitchen. 

FUCK! The Kitchen. Gator remembers too late that he forgot to clean up and do something with that awful cake and scampers after him.

Billy strides into the kitchen before Gator can stop him.

His stomach knots as Billy pauses, his gaze landing on the misshapen dessert surrounded by strewn icing bags, crumbs and powdered sugar. Slowly a grin spreads across Billy's face, and blue eyes sparkle as he turns to look at Gator, where he lingers hesitantly in the kitchen doorway.

"Is this cake trying to tell me something?" he teases, amusement rich in his voice. He leans forward slightly to inspect the cake more closely. "Is this your way of telling me you don’t want to sixty-nine later, or is it a failed science experiment? Hard to tell."

Gator feels heat rush to his face, embarrassment mixed with irritation bubbling in his chest. He knows Billy is just poking fun, yet it stings, tapping into that deep-seated insecurity instilled by years under his father's critical eye.

"Scotty was here with Dot and it gave us something to do. That’s all," Gator mumbles defensively, his words sharper than intended. Then, unable to stop the words from tumbling out recklessly, he adds, "Just thought it would be nice to share, but you don’t have to have any if you’re just going to be an asshole."

As soon as the words are out, Gator regrets them. Swearing at Billy is one thing, but lying to him breaks one of their most cardinal rules. It’s not just about respect; it’s about trust.

Billy’s expression shifts subtly; the playful light in his eyes dims as he adopts a more serious demeanor. He closes the distance between them with measured steps. "Gator," he says softly yet firmly, "That’s the second time you’ve pulled that tonight. Watch it.”

Gator snaps his mouth shut and fumes silently, hanging his head. God, Billy sounds so disappointed in him and it’s worse than he even imagined.He wants to puke.

“Did Scotty really make this?” Billy asks, and Gator can tell just from his tone that Billy already knows the answer, but he’s waiting for Gator to fess up to it. Gator shakes his head, hot tears stinging at his eyes that he blinks away as rapidly as he can.

“It’s for you.” He confesses, feeling a weight lift off his chest despite his overall misery. “I made it for your birthday, and you made fun of it.”

“I did.” Billy acknowledges too easily for Gators liking, but before he can say anything Billy goes on. “I could have handled that better. You’re right. But before we get to that, don’t you have anything to say to me?”

“No. Can’t think of anything.” Gator immediately denies, because how is it fair that he has to apologize for a little white lie when he only did it in the first place because he knew Billy was going to laugh. He knew it.

“Oh?” Billy’s face is impassive but he’s unhappy with Gators answer. It crackles in the air between them. “Do you need a reminder of the rules?"

Gator swallows hard, defiance battling with remorse inside him. He shrugs stiffly, avoiding Billy’s gaze. “Let's just forget it. I don’t need a lecture right now.”

“I’ll decide whether you do or not.” Billy’s tone is calm but carries an undeniable edge of authority—one that sends shivers down Gator’s spine and fear bolting through him all at once. “You know, I was looking forward to a nice night with my boy. Didn’t know I was coming home to a brat.”

Gator ignores the voice inside that screams for him to stop stop stop, barreling ahead in desperate angry defiance.

“Fuck you and what you want! Maybe I want a boyfriend who knows how to lighten up huh?  Sorry I’m not your perfect little bitch. Go cry about it to someone else!” 

His insides shake from the fear and lingering tension. Gator has just royally pissed off his dom. It’s in Billy’s eyes and the slow exhale of breath he takes. Punishment is inevitable. Gator longs to take it back but he can’t - can never take it back - and nothing will fix it. Or fix him. He’s all wrong inside and nothing works no matter how hard he tries.

But the thing is, Billy is safe.

Billy is angry and Gator is terrified and trembling but It’s nothing like it was before, in his father’s house. When the fear of a hand went bone deep and lived in his nightmares.

Gator loves Billy’s hands. They way they touch him. The way they hold him fast and glue him back together. They’ve never let him down those hands, which is why Gator is shaking like a leaf right now, terrified that they won’t reach for him.

He didn’t yell those things at Billy because he wants more space. It’s stupid, he knows, but he yelled them because he needs Billy to take over. He can’t stop himself running full speed ahead toward a punishment. Billy will straighten him out. He can trust Billy to know what to do even when he’s lost sense of which way he’s turned.

Gator’s dom considers him for a long moment, the silence stretching taut between them.

“Go in our room and get me a paddle.” Billy finally orders. Then, deliberately turning away, he starts rummaging through the kitchen cupboards - no doubt in his mind apparently that Gator will obey him.

Of course he does. Knees shaking, Gator stumbles out of the kitchen because now that he’s driven them to this point his skin is crawling with the need to make it right. He’s aching with the need to be good so bad his knees feel like jelly and it’s everything he can do just to follow the order. He wants to hit the floor - go to his belly and plead for his dom’s forgiveness but that’s not what Billy asked for.

He will be good. He’ll make Billy forget that mouthy idiot who talked back and clearly had shit for brains. He can be such a good boy. The best boy! Just give him a chance and he’ll come wagging his fucking tail.

It’s pathetic.

But it’s also a relief, when he returns to the kitchen a few minutes later with a paddle from their toy chest and sets it on the table and Billy acknowledges it with an approving nod.

“Good boy.” he says, and Gator’s knees buckle. He catches himself on the table, holds himself up with palms pressed firmly to the wood because Billy hasn’t told him to kneel yet. He forces himself to focus on Billy as the dom takes an empty glass vase inexplicably sitting next to a bag of rice on the table, and places it on the floor between their feet.

Gator watches warily as next, Billy grabs the open bag of rice and tilts it sending a stream of white grains cascading down onto the tile. He stops when the bag is empty and kneels briefly to stir through them gently with his fingers before straightening and meeting Gator’s eyes again.

“Pants off.” he orders, and Gator sucks in a breath. He doesn’t have to ask why, and doesn’t bother, cheeks hot with shame as he reaches for his belt and gets to work.

"On the floor," BIlly commands softly, when Gator is down to his underwear. The dom points to the pile of rice on the floor.

"Kneel."

And Gator folds like fucking cake batter, sweet sweet relief coursing through his veins. He puts himself at Billy’s feet where he belongs, where he wants to be and shudders, biting his lip to stop himself from begging for the dom’s touch. He hasn’t earned that. Doesn’t make him want it less, but he can be good for Billy and prove when he remembers how.

Billy picks up the paddle that Gator chose – sleek and dark, crafted from polished walnut. As Gator settles on his haunches, head lowered in submission.

“You picked the heavy one. My favorite.” Billy remarks. “That why you picked it, or do you just really need to feel it tonight? You can answer.”

“Want to feel it.” Gator licks his lips. “Want you to be happy.”

“Good boy.” Billy says, leaving Gator to wonder which he is pleased with: that Gator wants his ass beat so raw he can’t sit or Gator wanting those things because they please his dom?

“Alright Baby, are you listening? I want you to pick those up and put them in the vase. Count each one,” Billy instructs, motioning toward the scatter of grains. His voice is firm. It brooks no argument.

Gator looks down at the nearly indistinguishable mass of tiny grains and feels a rush of frustration. "All of them?" His voice is a mix of incredulity and unease. What if he can’t do it? What if he can’t be good and Billy is disappointed in him again?

“Every last one Baby boy," Billy confirms with an implacable nod. “Don’t think about it. It’s not your job right now to think. Just do what I ask you to do. Can you do that?”

Gator takes a deep breath, steadies himself on the sound of Billy’s voice and nods. He can do that. He can follow Billy’s instructions. He doesn’t have to worry about ho much rice there is or whether he can even find it all. That’s not his to worry about. Not his place. He just has to listen. 

He reaches out shakily to touch the closest grain, his voice barely audible as he starts, “One… two… three…” His fingers tremble slightly; counting each grain feels like an impossible task. But Billy never sets him up for failure - not the way his dad used to. Billy doesn’t ask him to do things he’s not capable of just to fail. He asks Gator for things he knows he can do, and if he fails anyway it’s because Billy wants to be there when he breaks. He won’t leave Gator laden with shame and misery that will eat away at his insides.

As Gator focuses on the rice, Billy steps behind him. Without warning, he brings the paddle down gently but firmly across Gator's backside. The sound cracks sharply in the air, followed by another count from Gator's lips that judders from the impact.

“Four… five…”

Billy administers each swat in time with Gator’s counting—methodical and paced.

The pain is not harsh but it accumulates with each slap—the stinging warmth spreading across Gator’s skin contrasting starkly with the coolness of the floor beneath his knees and hands. Tears prickle at Gator’s eyes as he continues—his voice breaks around “twenty-nine… thirty…” 

It’s more than just physical pain; it's a release valve for all he’s been holding inside. Every impact sends ripples through him, but it’s not just his body. It does something to his soul too that he can’t explain. Something he no longer wants to deny.

“Let it out,” Billy murmurs close to his ear between paddles—a soothing contrast to the sharp swats.

“Thirty-one… thirty-two…” The numbers start blurring together as sobs hitch in his throat. The task which seemed merely frustrating at first now feels poignant— slowly, bit by bit, Gator cleans up the mess on the floor, and swat by swat Billy cleans up the mess inside. He doesn’t hit Gator after every grain, that would be excessive. He takes breaks at interment periods, spacing them out so that it’s impossible for Gator to try and guess when he might start up again. The fresh sting whenever he does is brutal, worse in some ways than if he had just continued until Gator’s cheeks were numb.

“Two-hundred and ten…” 

Billy pauses, placing his hand gently on Gator's shoulder as he surveys his progress.

"You’re doing well," he encourages softly, and that little praise, that nothing bit of touch, is enough to break him. Gator chokes on a sob, hot tears spilling down his cheeks despite his best efforts to hold them in.

“Keep going.” Billy reminds him and Gator nods emphatically, tears dripping off his chin, because he hadn’t meant to stop. He was doing so well. Billy said so. He’ll never stop. Not until Billy tells him too.

With shaking hands Gator pinches grains of rice between his fingers and continues to count aloud between sobs and hits from the paddle—each number spoken is more than just an acknowledgement of rice grains; but of his submission to Billy. 

Billy’s little murmurs of praise and sounds of pleasure make him feel high. Like his head is floating in the clouds.

He loves subspace. Wishes it were easier for him to reach and he didn’t have to be taken down so hard. But finally he feels the familiar edges of it and the tears fall faster as he lets himself go.

Gator sinks into the feeling of weightlessness as it rises up to take him. Billy maintains a rhythm that is both firm and considerate, attuned to Gator's responses—his body language, his breathing, his blown out pupils and slurred speech. 

This is no longer about punishment. It’s a guided breakdown.

As Gator’s cries begin to subside into quiet murmurs and his ability to speak leaves him, Billy lessens the intensity of his strikes until he stops altogether. 

“That’s enough. You were beautiful Baby.” Billy halts Gator’s hands woozly still trying to lift rice and the sub sags against him. “You’re always so good for me baby boy.”

He brushes his fingertips along Gator's heated skin, tracing the raised welts along his buttocks and thighs softly, and making him shiver. Gator’s mouth stretches in a dopey lopsided smile, beaming from inside and out. He soars. Works his mouth to ask Billy to do it again - he can take more - but can’t get past the mushmouth.

The room is heavy with the scent of sweat and leather, the only sound now the quiet thud of Billy’s heart and Gator’s shaky breaths.

Hands roam over Gator’s back and legs, soft, soothing caresses that glide over his flushed skin. Billy leans close, his breath warm against the nape of Gator’s neck, whispering reassurances that float through his head like feathers.

The shift is gentle, a tender transition as Gator's breathing evens out and his trembling subsides. Billy’s hands are confident, knowing exactly where to touch to bring Gator back from the intense high of subspace. With each calculated stroke on his back and whisper against his ear, Gator feels the ground slowly come back under him, the weightlessness dissipating as reality takes hold once more.

Billy finally eases back, giving space for Gator to gather himself in the afterglow of their session. He cups Gator’s face tenderly, wiping away the trails left by tears with his thumbs. 

“Talk to me, Gator. What’s been eating at you?”

The use of his real name pulls Gator further out of his dazed state. He blinks slowly, focusing on Billy’s concerned face, grounding himself. “I... I’m scared,” he admits, voice still hoarse.

“Scared of what?” Billy probes gently, petting the long side of Gator’s hair now.

“I’m scared I’m not enough for you,” he confesses, dropping his gaze to where their fingers are entwined. He knows the words will hurt Billy. Make his dominant frown in the middle of his brow and start thinking of all the ways Neil Hargrove used to tell him he was a waste of space - too broken and wrong to ever take proper care of a sub. Nothing could be further from the truth. But if there’s one thing Gator knows it’s daddy issues and how they can haunt you.

But to his surprise Billy’s expression doesn’t change. He just nods quietly, still petting Gator’s hair. “Why would you think that?”

Gator hesitates, lips parting but no sound coming out. He swallows hard and shrugs.

“Listen to me Baby.” Billy says after a moment, fisting Gator’s hair between his fingers and tugging until he brings his eyes up. “You’re what I want. You. Even when you’re being a greasy dirtbag leaving your shit everywhere and blaring your candyass music.”

“Hey, lay off my Skyfire man.” Gator can’t help but smile, because Billy’s lips have curved up in amusement and they’ve had this argument a dozen times or more and it just makes him feel so good, that Billy pays attention to which albums he gravitates to depending on his moods. “They aren’t candy. Fractal is the best album produced since Reign In Blood.”

“Why are we talking about fucking Slayer, or Skyfire, right now when Ride the Lightning exists?” Billy growls, tugging on Gator’s hair until his scalp stings just the sweetest bit. “I should beat your ass again just for that.“

“Yeah. If you wanna.” he pants, eager, and Billy’s smiling mouth kisses him, hot and hungry. Billy licks into Gator’s mouth, possessive and sweeping, until he whimpers. The dom nips at his plump lower lip with a grin before pulling back.

“Don’t think you realize how sore you’re gonna be when you come down off this high babe.” He says. “But you heard me right? When I said I loved you? Cause I do. I wasn’t about to lose you before over shitty timing, and I’d never let anything take you from me now. Not Dot. Not him. Not anyone or anything. Okay?”

Gator shivers, but even the mention of his father can’t intrude on the blanket of safety Billy has woven around him, the sure way his gaze holds Gator and rings with truth.

“Yeah.” he sighs, breathless.

“Yeah?”

But it’s not good enough, according to Billy’s tightening grip. And fuck that feels good. Gator is suddenly aware of how hard he is in his briefs, but it’s strangely distant. Like he’d be happy to just sit here hard for another hour or more, letting Billy play with him.

“Yes Billy.”

“Good boy.” Billy's voice is soft, infused with a warmth that seeps into Gator's bones, coaxing his tight muscles to loosen.The room around them—their living room with its deep blue walls and plush gray couches— disappears momentarily, focusing all existence on their intimate bubble.

Billy lifts Gator’s chin so their eyes meet. "Nah nah, stay up for me Baby boy. I need you present." His thumbs brush under Gator’s eyes, rubbing warmth into his skin while he waits for Gator’s eyes to focus. "I think it’s time I show you something," Billy continues, when Gator’s gaze is clear once more.

"In the bedroom," Billy instructs softly, "In my sock drawer, there's a small white box. I want you to go and bring it to me."

Gator feels a jolt run through him. It shocks him rather unpleasantly back to reality, like he’s been dropped from a short height.

“Wait what?” he tries to ask, tries to think, because Billy can’t be hinting at what his muddled brain is trying to convince him he is. Can he?

“Shh. Don’t ask questions.” Billy warns. “And absolutely no peeking either. Just go get it.”

Gator’s movements are slow and automatic as he stands and makes his way down the hallway. This isn’t happening. Well obviously it is, he is on his way to their bedroom to open Billy’s drawer - which is strictly hands off unless he has permission - and get some mysterious box. But it’s probably like some new toy they can enjoy together. Maybe Billy went out and finally got those chains Gator found on that web store, the ones with the studs that dig into your wrists the more you struggle? He’s going to feel so owned wearing those. It’s gonna be great.

He’s convinced himself down off the ledge by the time he gets to the bedroom, but his heart hasn’t gotten the memo because it starts going double time in his chest as he reaches for Billy’s drawer. It slips open smoothly under his fingers which are trembling slightly. From fear or excitement, he isn't sure.

Inside lies a small white box, unassuming in its simplicity yet Gator just stands there and stares at it like it’s a bomb for a full minute before lifting it from its nest among Billy's socks. The weight of potential futures presses down upon him as he clutches the box in his hands.

He should be a good boy. He can just turn and go back into the living room and - Fuck it! Gator’s not kidding anyone. Least of all himself.

Before he knows it, Gator has torn off the ribbon and lifted the lid on the box to peek inside.

And there lies a beautiful black leather collar, its surface smooth and flawless except for the bold engraving of 'GATOR' studded across it in shining silver letters.

Gator stares at it in disbelief, eyes flooding with fresh tears. His heart trips over itself in his chest, thrumming against his ribcage like a caged bird desperate for flight.

The room is silent except for the sound of Gator's shallow, ragged breathing. Gator runs his fingers over the cool, shining letters that form his name, the studs scraping against the pads of his fingers sending tingles through him.

He lifts the collar, feeling its weight in his hands. It's heavier than it looks. He brings it closer, inhaling deeply—the leather smells rich and earthy. It’s the good shit. Supple and strong enough to take some serious pull, and yet the inside of the collar is lined with soft velvet, ensuring his comfort.

Something white resting on the blue lining of the box catches Gator’s eye. It’s a folded card, its crisp edge nearly taller than the sides of the box. Gently plucking it up, Gator flicks it open and scans, eyes widening at the one word message inside.

Peeker!

An unexpected burst of laughter escapes him as he wipes away tears. The simple word on the card speaks volumes, but so does Billy’s presence in their bedroom doorway where Gator finds him leaning when he looks up.

Billy is gazing at Gator with an intense mixture of emotions.

"Do you like it?" he asks, and there’s something like worry there. As if Gator might actually have shit for brains and do all that stupid stuff he’d told Dot he’d do back when he was scared shitless. All because he’d convinced himself that Billy wasn’t true - that he’d disappear like every other good thing has.

“Yeah.” Gator sniffs through his red nose, rubbing fiercely at his eyes. “Shit man. How long have you had this?”

“Since right after your birthday actually.” Billy confesses with an easy shrug. Like he isn’t just standing there admitting that he bought a collar for Gator and has been hanging onto it since September.

“Billy! It’s fucking March!”

“I know! I thought if I forbid you from going through my drawer eventually you would. I know what you’re like.” Billy said. Meaning of course he knows that no matter what, Gator eventually messes up.

But Billy says, “I guess I underestimated what a good boy I’ve got, huh?” with this soft look in his eye, like he’s looking at the best sight in the world and not his fuckup boyfriend standing in the middle of their bedroom in his tighty-whities.

Gator might be melting a little, which is why he has to sit down heavily on the bed before he crumples.

“Hey Billy?”

“Yeah, Babe?”

“I’m your sub…” Gator begins and Billy laughs, the sound loud and full of joy instead of mockery.

“No shit?”

“Come on, Billy please. Don’t be mean.” Gator whines, lifting the hand still holding the collar wordlessly and Billy finally takes pity on him and crosses the room to take it from him. Gator trembles, straightening up and bending his neck a little to give Billy room as he claps it on. He gasps a little, shuddering when Billy leans back and the heavy weight settles against his skin.

"You’re my sub," Billy repeats with finality."With or without this. But when you wear this, I want you to remember," he pauses for effect, letting his fingers softly caress down Gator’s neck and over the dark leather. "You’re my gift. The love you give me, makes me Gator, and I thank whatever lucky stars I’ve got that you came into my life when you did. Okay?"

A simple nod is all Gator manages in response; it’s all that’s needed. The smile that spreads across Billy's face is radiant—as if a piece has clicked into place within him too.

Carefully, lovingly, Billy cradles his chin and pulls him into a kiss.

It tastes sweet… like buttercream icing.

[detective-inspector-her]

Left Behind AU Incorrect Quotes

Gordon: I was born for politics. I have great hair and I love lying.

Valkyrie: Gordon what-?

Saracen: It was difficult, so you’ve just given up. You might fail, so why bother trying?

Gordon: Exactly.

Gordon, to Tanith: I told you he’d understand.

Saracen: I want a trip down memory lane.

Valkyrie: proceeds to grab every warrior cats book they have and sets them in Saracen's lap

Valkyrie: I heard you needed these?

Saracen: YES! ALL OF THEM!

Gordon: Hey, Ghastly, are you free on Friday? Like around eight?

Ghastly: Yeah.

Gordon: And you, Tanith?

Tanith: Umm... yes?

Gordon: Great! Because I'm not. You two go out without me. Enjoy your date!

Tanith: Did he just-

Anton: What?

Saracen: You know, there’s something weird going on with your face?

Saracen: You’re smiling! I didn’t know you could do that?

Ghastly: What would it be like? Inconvenient, mostly.

Tanith: Hey, Ghastly, what do you think it would be like if we had kids?

Tanith: No, I mean, what would they be like, the kids? You ever think about it?

Ghastly: Can't really say I have.

Tanith: You know, for someone as eccentric as yourself, you can be boring as fuck sometimes.

Ghastly: Sorry, Tanith. For what it's worth, I'm picturing them now. A boy and a girl. Two perfect little freaks of nature raised by people who've clearly got no business bringin' up anybody.

Dexter: Chillin' in a hot tub!

Saracen: Two bros!

Saracen and Dexter, in unison: Zero feet apart 'cause we're GAY AS FUCK!

Valkyrie: You a cop?

Dexter: Hey, aren’t you Valkyrie?

Dexter: No.

Valkyrie: Then yes, I am.

Tanith: Oh, I’m sorry.

Dexter: I asked Saracen out.

Dexter: Why?

Tanith: Well, I assume he said no.

Dexter: No, he said yes.

Tanith: Really? Then I’m sorry for him.

Tanith: He once referred to sand as "heterosexual glitter."

Dexter: So, what's it like living with Gordon?

Dexter: ...

Tanith: I love him so much.

Gordon: *Ugly crying*

Skulduggery, holding out a cookie for Gordon: Look! This ones a heart, that’s how I feel about you!

Skulduggery, holding out another cookie for Valkyrie: This ones like Michigan, that’s how I feel about you!

Valkyrie, throwing their hands in the air: What does that mean?!

Valkyrie: Okay-

Skulduggery: Yo dumbass, get over here.

Gordon: *gleefully runs past* I’m coming!

Valkyrie sadly: I thought... I was dumbass...

Valkyrie: Um… the moment I saved you from getting killed.

Skulduggery: When did you become a hero?

Skulduggery: You’re the last person on earth I wanted to rescue me.

Valkyrie: Well… sucks to be you, don’t it.

Valkyrie and Dexter: *fighting and yelling at each other*

Saracen: Can I get a waffle?

Saracen: Can I p l e a s e get a waffle?

Valkyrie: When I join this friend group I thought you guys would be dealing with my bullshit.

Valkyrie: You know what?

*Saracen, Dexter and Tanith continue screaming about mould water*

Valkyrie: Not the other way around.

Ghastly: I dunno, sounds like you need to drink the mould water.

Skulduggery: The reason I wake up every morning.

Saracen: So, what is Valkyrie to you?

Saracen: ...That’s adorable.

Valkyrie earlier that morning, barging into Skulduggery′s room, smacking pans together: WAKE UP WAKE UP WAKE UP WAKE UP WAKE UP!!!

Skulduggery: You slept for three hours last night! Why are you surprised?!

Valkyrie: I'm tired.

Valkyrie: I'm not surprised. I just wanted to complain about it.

Dexter: Only the ambulance ride to the hospital.

Valkyrie: You were stabbed. Do you remember anything?

Saracen: That wasn't an ambulance, I drove you.

Dexter: But I heard a siren.

Anton: That was Gordon.

Gordon: Sorry, I got nervous.

Saracen: Uh, no, no, that is basil.

Dexter: Is this mistletoe?

Dexter: Too bad cause if it was mistletoe I was gonna kiss you.

Saracen: Yeah, no, it’s still basil.

Skulduggery: ...

Valkyrie: Why is it so hard for you to believe me?!

Valkyrie: Oh, right. The lying.

Tanith: It would be nice to have my sense of purpose back...

Skulduggery: Imagine if someone handed you a box full of all the things you lost throughout your life.

Valkyrie: Oh wow, my childhood innocence! Thank you for finding this.

Saracen: My will to live! I haven't seen this in years.

Dexter: I knew I lost that potential somewhere.

Gordon: Mental stability, my old friend!

Skulduggery: Jesus, could you guys lighten up a little?

Anton: Oh, I would... but I don’t want to.

Dexter: Hey Anton, do you wanna help us?

Valkyrie: Yes.

Dexter: So... This is my full potential?

Dexter: So, then it's...

Valkyrie: All downhill from here.

Dexter: Like Skulduggery.

Valkyrie: I do not know what this Skulduggery is. But it sounds disappointing.

Tanith, in defeat: Let’s go.

Skulduggery, smugly, after security arrives to escort Tanith and Valkyrie out: So, do you wanna walk out of here or do you wanna be carried out?

Valkyrie: Wait.

Tanith: What?

Valkyrie: I’d kinda like to be carried out...

I'll probably do this for other fics that I want to write. Like, a heads up for some of the insane bullshit that's been hiding in my head for the past few months.

Valkyrie: And now for a gay update with Saracen and Dexter.

Dexter: Getting gayer.

Valkyrie: Thank you, Dexter.

[isabelinlove]

Merry Christmas, Dickhead

Pairing: Isabel x Roman (pre-relationship)

Word Count: 1k

Summary: Isabel and Roman have slightly different views on Christmas. Takes place during season 1 (the Christmas following the infamous 1.05 Thanksgiving).

Warnings: Mostly fluffy, but contains very brief canon-typical allusions to childhood trauma/abuse. Also contains typical Roman weirdness.

A/N: Tis the season… for a Romebel Christmas fic!! I actually wrote this one last year but it’s still one of my faves <3

“If I have to hear Holly Jolly Christmas one more time, I’m going to fucking strangle myself,” Roman grumbles as he enters his office, hastily removing the scarf from around his neck and throwing it across the back of his chair.

“Good morning to you, too,” Isabel replies, not looking up from her computer. After a month and a half of working for him, she’s grown used to her boss’s erratic behavior.

“Seriously, I don’t know how anyone can fucking stomach that shit,” he continues.

“Christmas music?” she asks.

“Yeah.”

“I don’t know, I kind of like it.”

“You’re shitting me,” he replies, walking over and leaning up against her desk. “Why? It’s all Jesus and reindeer and touchy-feely bullshit and ‘you’d better be in the holiday spirit or Santa will personally shove a candy cane up your ass.’” He mimics the action with his hand, and Isabel rolls her eyes. “I didn’t think you’d be into that crap.”

“I know,” she replies. “But… it’s nostalgic. Reminds me of my childhood, I guess.”

“Yuck,” Roman says, making a face.

“I’m guessing you don’t feel the same?”

“Well, growing up, Roy family Christmases weren’t exactly holly and jolly,” he replies. She expects him to leave it at that, but he continues. “I mostly remember a lot of yelling, as a result of Mummy and Daddy’s rapidly deteriorating marriage. Then there was the time Kendall threw a snowball at me that was 90% ice and I had a black eye in all the family photos. Dad was livid about it. Probably because he didn’t want people to think he did it. But, hey, at least we had Mummy’s Christmas cookies! Which of course weren’t made with love, but purchased from the most expensive caterer in town. One time she scolded me for eating more than one and told me I was going to get fat.”

“Oh,” is all Isabel can manage in response. She’s always wondered why Roman is… well, the way he is, but never before has he divulged so much information about his less-than-happy childhood.

“Fuck you, don’t look at me like that,” he says, noticing the way her face falls. “I don’t want your pity.”

“Fine, asshole,” she replies, quickly pivoting. It’s much easier to dish Roman’s snarky attitude back to him than say something sincere. She knows it’s what he prefers, too. “I’m just surprised your spoiled ass doesn't have memories of getting every gift you ever could have wanted every single year.”

“Well, yeah, I have those, too,” he retorts, straightening himself up. “It’s just… the other stuff kind of stuck with me more.” He says it quietly, almost vulnerably, then returns to his own desk before Isabel can reply. She turns her attention back to her emails, trying very hard not to think about how bad she feels for her pathetic jerk of a boss.

**

The following Friday, Roman returns from a miserably boring board meeting to a quiet office. He checks the time — 5:17 — and realizes that Isabel must have already left. He’s given her two weeks off for Christmas, a hefty bonus, and — maybe against his better judgment — a Chanel bag, hoping that it’s enough to say ‘thank you’ for everything she’s done for him. He’s never been good with kind words.

Roman turns his attention to his own desk, and is surprised to find a present sitting on top. It’s rectangular and fairly small, neatly wrapped in shiny green paper and tied with a large red ribbon. At first, he assumes someone is making a merry attempt to either bribe or poison him, until he reads the note attached to the ribbon:

Merry Christmas, dickhead.

Love,

Your long-suffering assistant

PS: Eat as many as you want, I don’t care if you get fat (you won’t)

He grins and begins to unwrap it. Inside is a Tupperware container filled with Christmas cookies. Homemade Christmas cookies, he realizes, as he removes the lid. Two different kinds — peanut butter with chocolate Kisses in the center, and sugar cookies cut into various festive shapes. The icing on the sugar cookies is a little wonky, but that makes them all the more charming. Still smiling, he pulls out a snowman and takes a bite. It’s good — way better than anything he remembers from his childhood. A funny feeling washes over him as he realizes that this is the most thoughtful gift he’s received in years.

Christmas comes several days later, and, as expected, the Roy family dinner is anything but jolly. Connor is freaking out about the doneness of the roast, Shiv and Tom are having a domestic dispute in the living room, and Roman’s father is once again questioning him about his inability to keep a girlfriend. After making some half-assed excuse about wanting to focus on work, he sighs and downs his glass of Merlot, attempting to tune out the cacophony of unhappy voices around him. Just two more hours and he can get out of there.

Roman’s mind starts to wander, and soon he’s thinking back to the conversation he had with Isabel. He wonders what she’s doing right now, and hopes she’s having a better time than him. She probably is, if Christmas music makes her feel warm and fuzzy inside instead of nauseous. All of a sudden, his mind conjures up an image of her baking the cookies she gave him. She’s dressed in a bright red sweater, smiling sweetly and humming along to Holly Jolly Christmas as she mixes the dough, like something out of one of those shitty Hallmark movies. It’s absolutely fucking ridiculous, and never in a million years would he admit that he’s having such domestic fantasies about her. But as the dinner drags on and his family’s arguing becomes more heated, his thoughts keep drifting back to it. It’s a wholesome contrast to the shit show unfolding around him at the moment. And maybe, just maybe, it makes him feel a little warm and fuzzy inside.

Tagging @tomfoolies

[seaside-writings]

Hello, hello, all you holly jolly people! It is the first day of my “12 Days of Prompts” event and we're starting off with something a little scary.

Every Christmas season there are two horror movies that my family and I watch over and over again. The first one as you can call see is “Krampus” and the second you’ll see later on!

Krampus is by far one of my favorite Christmas movies, I know that sounds strange, but it’s the truth. I love the monster designs, how the characters a portrayed, and how it still feels more like a Christmas movie than a horror movie, even during some of the actual horror parts. Plus, I like that it doesn’t try and take itself too seriously.

So if you haven’t seen it yet, I highly recommend it!

Like always if you do use these prompts please tag me so I can see what you’ve made!

I hope you all stay blessed and safe throughout your day.

Merry Christmas & Happy Holidays: Celia ❤💚❄⛄🎄

“It started with the wind, on a cold night, much like this,” - “It's Christmas. Nothing bad is going to happen on Christmas!” - "That's what a family is, baby. People you try to be friends with, even when you don't have a lot in common,” - “You're not thinking of going after that snowplow alone, are you?” “A Shepherd's gotta protect his flock,” - “It's the blizzard, honey, nothing's working right now,” - “They can see dust specks on Mars, but no one noticed a giant blizzard hurtling towards us,” “Well, as soon as the power's back, you can write an angry e-mail to the National Weather Service,” - “I would just be calmer if I knew how we were gonna survive Christmas with 12 people stuck in a house with no hot water, no heat, and no electricity,” - “You know, she and I, we butt heads, but I can't imagine life without her,” Yeah, I know what you mean,” _ “And that night, in the darkness of a howling blizzard… I got my wish,” “Oh, lay off of him! The kid deserves a prize for telling the truth!” - “It's just a scratch,” “Oh, my gosh,” “It looks like something bit you.” “Nope! Probably a bear trap under the snow or something,” “We don't have bears here,” - “Dear Santa, I know I haven't been great this year and I'm sorry for that, but I was really hoping you could help out me and my family this Christmas,” - “So, where’s the nog? I need to get merry,” - “Come on, kids, I'm gonna teach you how to make peppermint schnapps,” - "A little sugar, a little spice, makes everything nice." - "I haven't been this hungover since the Pope died." - “But Krampus didn't take me that night… He left me, as a reminder of what happens when hope is lost, when belief is forgotten… and the Christmas spirit dies,” - “They too had given up. And eventually, so did I,” - “What’s she saying?” “This… This is all our fault… he’s come for us all... He?” - “And for the first time, I didn't wish for a miracle, I wished for them to go away… a wish I would come to regret,” - “I'm old enough to know when life is coming at me with its pants down,” - "Listen, why don't we just leave? Right? We can all pile in the truck and we'll just see as far as we can get, and we can pick up-” “The truck's gone,” - “And I just wanna say I’m sorry for… thinking you’re such a spineless dick all these years,” - “Poor bastard must have sailed clear through,” “Looks more like the opposite,” “What’d you mean?” “The glass is punched in,” - “Don't suppose you got me a backup generator for Christmas, did you?” “Yeah, it's under the tree next to your ties and underwear,” - “Blah blah blah. Bullshit, bullshit. Ah, here we go, the wishlist!” - “Enough with the sappy crap, let's open up the damn presents,” - “See? Let them out of your sight for one second, and boom, shotgun wedding,” “Can you not, please,” “Well, you ought to know,” - “What did you see up there?” “You don't wanna know, sweetheart,” "Honey, I just got my ass kicked by a bunch of Christmas cookies, so trust me when I tell you I can take it!" - “It's not starting! It's not starting! Why isn't it starting!?”

“I think our best bet is to stay put, board up all the doors and windows, and as soon as the weather breaks, we'll go find her,”

“Hey, asshole! I take back my wish, I take it all back! Give me back my family!” - “I, um-- I just wanna say thanks for, uh, you know, saving my ass back there,” - “Twisted fairytale horseshit!!” - "I've hunted a lot of game in my day, those are hooves. Big ones too. Could be an elk or a goat,” What kind of goat walks on its hind legs? - “How much ammo do you have?” “A couple shells still loaded, maybe a dozen in my pocket. Why?” - “What? “She said we're screwed,” - “They had forgotten the spirit of Christmas, the sacrifice of giving. And my family was no different,” - “And as he had for thousands of years, Krampus came not to reward, but to punish, not to give, but to take,” - “I tried to help them to believe again, but we were no longer the loving family I remembered,” - “I knew Saint Nicholas was not coming this year. Instead, it was a much darker, more ancient spirit. The shadow of Saint Nicholas. It was Krampus,” - “I just wanted Christmas to be like it used to be, but forget it! I hate Christmas! I hate all of you!” - “Evil Santa? She’ll be yammering about a rabid Easter Bunny come Spring,” - “What are we gonna tell the kids?” “I don't know. The truth?” “Sure, which version of it?” - “Yeah, well, you know-- she always gets a little weird around Christmas,” - “Baby, please don't do this, listen, we can figure something else out,” “This is how I figure things out,” - “You had mom's angel this whole time?” “Yeah, I thought you knew,” “No,” - “It was almost Christmas, but this Christmas was darker, less cheerful. But I still believed in Santa, in magic and miracles, and the hope that we could find joy again,” - “I'm sorry, I just wanted Christmas to be like it used to be,” - “Our village had given up on miracles, and on each other,” - “Remember we used to fight over who got to place her?” “Yeah, you fought dirty, I still have the scars,” “Where do you think my girls get it from?” - “I don't like this,” “Whoever did this is a demented son of a bitch,” - “Come on, come on, please,” “I'm trying! I don't even know how to drive a stick! We have a hybrid! - “The snowplow?” “The keys were in the ignition-” “And it was beat to hell!’ “But if it runs, I drive it back here, and then everyone piles in the car and follows while I clear a path in front of us,” “And go where?” “The mall doubles as an emergency shelter, and if it's empty, we'll try the police station,” “And what if they're gone too?” “Then we keep driving till we see lights or people, plowed road, somewhere safe for the kids,” “And then we bring help back here,” - “I think it's panicking, trying to get outside,” “Well, we boarded everything up,” - “What are you doing? We've got four other kids here to protect,” - “It's not what you do, it's what you believe, and what you've given up," - “I think all this might be my fault,” - “What are we gonna do now?” “We keep the fire hot,” - “Oh, hey, there you are! Hey, kiddo. we thought the sugarplum fairies may have gotten you,” - “Everybody, hold on to each other,” - “Be good,” - “Wow, what's this all about?” “It's nothing just… merry Christmas,” “Merry Christmas to you too, baby,”

[roosterbox]

Fic Rec Friday 6/16/2023

Title: The Best Part of Me is That I’m the B-Side to You

Rating: Explicit

Archive Warning: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Category: M/M

Fandom: Stranger Things (TV 2016)

Relationship: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson

Characters: Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson, And ensemble

Additional Tags: Hurt and comfort, Angst, Established Relationship, kind of, Fix-It, not a slow burn we burn fast like cheap cigarettes, [magnolia park's "i'm back on my bullshit" plays in the background]

Summary: Maybe it was too early to say that. Maybe it was too early to say Steve was in love. He usually fell hard. He thought he was in love with Nancy Wheeler. He fell hard for her too.

But Eddie Munson?

Eddie Munson is intoxicating.

----

AKA the one where Steve and Eddie have been dating Eddie's entire senior year.

———

*heavy breathing*

Okay. So. This one is a bit of a doozy for me. I hope the 80k isn’t too intimidating for you - if it is, I get it - because holy shit I cannot recommend it enough. You know a fic is fucking good when you read it once and immediately resign yourself to never reading it again because it’s just… too much. That was me months ago when I first read this. The very thought brought me to tears. And if that wasn’t enough, I couldn’t listen to Head Over Heels again until like a week or two ago, lol. And now I’ll have to wait months and months again before I can listen to it without immediately tearing up. The power of incredible writing.

This is probably (definitely) my favorite of the ‘Steve and Eddie are secretly dating’ subgenre of Steddie fics. As well as my favorite ‘Eddie and Steve knew each other while Steve worked at Scoops’ story. They’re both very niche genres, of course. So much of this fic has kind of wormed itself into my brain and my own headcanons that re-reading it for this rec was an eye-opening experience. “Wait, that was from this? I thought I made that up!”

I never would have thought that a substitute phrase for I Love You could make me tear up, but dammit, if I even slightly think of the words “I’m forever yours,” I’m gone. In tears as we speak. With that out of the way, yes - I cried again while re-reading it. Not as much as I did the first time, mind you, but yeah. Y’all know me; I am as soft as a gently baked batch of cookies.

To summarize: cute boys being cute together and almost dying makes Roosterbox cry like a baby, lol.

Highly, highly recommended.

Important side note: No link, except to the login page. The writer has locked the fic for the time being. Not gonna complain or judge them for it (if they’re reading this, I understand - you do what you feel you must), just FYI. You can still find it if you have an Ao3 account.

———

Next Week: Okay guys, I’m gonna level with you. I think it’s time to dive headfirst into one of my favorite fic tropes. One that a loooooot of people aren’t into. For various reasons. And I get it. I do, I swear I do. But you know… it’s always been one of my comfort tropes. I am, of course, talking about the M word. Mpreg. And it’s my favorite type of Mpreg story: one where it isn’t explained. Is it ABO? Maybe but probably not. Is the guy trans? Maybe. Is it just that men can get pregnant in this universe? Maaaaaaaybe. Draw your own conclusions and/or have your own headcanon. Just enjoy the ride.

Oh, and it’s Arthur/Eames by the way. Figured that was important to mention.

Until next week, darlings ❤️

[iamvegorott]

Happy Family Pt. 7 of 8

The Three Musketeers

Months passed, and Google, Bing, and Chase grew closer together as they all worked together to help raise and care for Etta, Penny, and Lucas. It was to the point that it was rare to see one without the others outside of work. Chase started feeling better, finally adjusting to the sudden gain of full custody and separation from Stacy. It’d been a good month since the last time they spoke, and usually, that would concern Chase, but he’d accepted that this was how it would be and everything would be fine. The kids were happy, he was happy, and Google and Bing have been so supportive, and Chase felt very lucky to have them in his life.  

Right now, they were all at Chase’s home, spring cleaning had kicked in, and they decided to start at Chase’s today and then do the same work at Bing and Google’s tomorrow. 

“Heracles! Heracles!” Bing chanted as Google grunted and pulled the fridge away from the wall. Etta, Lucas, and Penny were playing in the twins’ room.

“I feel like that grunt was for show.” Chase teased as Bing swept up the loose debris into a dustpan. “You moved the fridge way too easy.” 

“The fridge usually slides once you get that first ‘umph’ of movement.” Google made a face when he made a noise instead of a word to explain what he meant. “And now I feel like I’ve been around you two too much.” 

“Embrace the noise making.” Bing giggled, dumping the contents of the dustpan into the trashcan as Google grabbed some ‘Goo-gone’ and sprayed the spot on the floor with it. 

“We make plenty of noises with each other~,” Google said with a grin to Bing. 

“Googs!” Bing lightly smacked Google’s arm. 

“You two can’t keep joking about that without inviting me to play.” Chase winked before using the scraper to get to work on the floor. 

Bing and Google froze at Chase’s flirty comment, watching him work on the floor for a good moment, thoughts wondering before they were pulled away from it by Etta’s voice. 

“Daddy, can I have apple juice, please?” Etta rocked on her feet as she asked. 

“Y-Yeah, of course.” Google cleared his throat and went off to get the requested drink.

x~x~x 

“One good thing about having little kids is no one will judge if you have plenty of ice cream in the freezer.” Chase joked as he plopped himself down on the couch between Bing and Google, a big bowl of ice cream on each of their laps.

“Oh, there is always someone that will judge,” Google said. 

“Can never parent the right way no matter what,” Bing added, clicking his tongue.

“True. But I don’t care because I have my favorite people under my roof and got a lapful of cookies and cream.” Chase chuckled.

“Don’t.” Google stopped Bing as soon as he saw him open his mouth. 

“What? I wasn’t going to say anything.” Bing faked an innocent face. 

“Bullshit, you weren’t.” Google rolled his eyes with a smile. 

“Say what? I’m just talking about the-oh!” Chase finally caught on to what kind of joke Bing would make and started laughing. “Nah, man, that type of cream happens after I finish this one.” He did a playful shimmy and wiggle of his eyebrows before breaking into another laugh. “Although, I’d be the cream filling since I’m between you two,” Chase added, and his laughter got even louder, only stopping when Google put a hand over his mouth.

“You’re going to wake the kids up,” Google said, a tint of pink on his cheeks. “Gah!” He pulled his hand back away. “Did you just lick me!?” 

“Careful, Googs, you might wake the kids.” Bing giggled. 

“If they’re not awake by now-” Chase’s comment stopped when Penny, dressed in her butterfly-patterned pajamas, entered the room. “Hey, Pens.” 

“Are you eating ice cream?” Penny asked. 

“Let’s get you back to bed,” Chase grunted as he stood up, setting his bowl on the end table. 

“Can I have some?” Penny asked as she got walked out.

“And have you up all night? No, thank you.” Chase chuckled, his voice getting softer and softer as they went. 

“Googs?” Bing sat his bowl aside and moved so he leaned against Google, head resting on his shoulder. “Do you think we should…you know?” He took Google’s hand with his own. “With everything we’ve discussed before, other late nights with the three of us talking about…things…I think we should finally take the leap.”

“You have a point.” Google hummed, placing his head on Bing’s and squeezing his hand back. “The worst that can happen is that he says no.” 

“Sounds like a plan.” 

x~x~x

“It’s just a simple dinner and a simple question,” Google said out loud to himself as he stressed-cleaned the living room. 

“Googs, hon, you’re acting like Chase isn’t over here every day. Why are you trying to make the floor shine enough to see your reflection?” Bing stood at the living entrance, watching Google scrub the floor with a brush on his hands and knees. Etta was at Dark’s home with Lucas and Penny. Wilford and his kids were there as well. Bing had spoken to Wilford about their plans for the evening, and he was more than willing to help watch the kids with Dark. He had said something about it being a perfect way to practice having a big family. Bing didn’t question it beyond that.

“Aren’t you anxious about asking Chase out?” Google asked, finally taking a break from his cleaning. 

“Of course I am, but I’m not getting myself worked up over it. Plus, if I get too worried while cooking. I burn things.” Bing said with a shrug, and as if the universe heard him, smoke started coming out of the kitchen, and the alarm went off. “Shit!” 

“Well, that proves you’re worried,” Google said as he scrambled to his feet and followed Bing back to the kitchen. 

“Please, no fire, please, no fire.” Bing grabbed some mitts and opened the oven door, thankfully not seeing any flames. He pulled the tray out and sat it on the counter, showing a charred piece of what had been meat. “I…I thought I turned the oven off. I set it high to give the outside the crisper crust and apparently left it on.”

“Do you think it’s too late to order a pizza?” Google poked the charcoal meat, feeling the heat of it and ending up with the tip of his finger becoming black. His question got answered by the front door opening and Chase calling out; I’m here.

“Shit.” Bing picked up the tray and tried to rush off to hide it in the back room, but he fumbled over his feet and fell over. The burned meat also fell off the tray, and Bing, not thinking much in his panic, grabbed it and sat it back on the tray, hands now covered in the black charcoal.

“Are you okay?” Google went down to the ground with Bing to check on him. 

“Burnt meat stinks,” Bing grumbled, using the heel of his palm to scratch his nose. He ended up making it black with charcoal as well. Bing paused when he realized what he had done and glared at Google when he started laughing. “Rude.” Bing huffed before smearing his palm across Google’s cheek. 

“Bing!” Google gasped as now Bing was the one laughing. 

“Are we good here?” Chase asked as he came into the kitchen and saw the mess. 

“Oh! Chase, we-we-uh-we were wondering…uh…” Google tried to say something but a mess of gibberish came out instead. 

“You wanna go on a date with us?” Bing blurted out. 

“A date?” Chase paused, and his cheeks started going pink. “Like a date date?” 

“Only if you want to, of course, no pressure,” Google’s words almost overlapped as he spoke.

“Sounds great,” Chase said with a big smile.

----------

First: Link

Prev: Link

Next: Link

[luring-lurkers-and-radio-hosts]

Chapter 5: The recipes are bound in layers of mud: 

I got it. I got the fucking recipes. Holy fucking shit, the cookies smell so fucking good. Keller’s house must smell divine because my house smells like a goddamn gourmet bakery. Holy shit. 

Also, another win, I fucking got to school before that green-dicked hobbit—by like two minutes. Because apparently, he bikes to school, and the fucking roads are all muddy because the county can’t be bothered with paving the roads leading to the school. They probably use the money for some Hiram Lodge level of bullshit, fucking dicks. 

But I digress because that fuck started walking to me with fucking mud stains on the sides of his jeans—the lower parts near his ankles, and gave me my umbrella back. It was in pristine condition, which was good because I didn’t want to have to clean it when I got home. 

We went inside together—without Fangs because apparently, the cold and dreary weather got him sick yesterday, fucking idiot I told him to wear something warmer than his paper-thin hoodie and leather jacket, fucking moron. 

Whatever, anyway, Keller stayed on the ground with me today—gracing me with his angelic presence while I worked on finally starting the repairs on the PA system from the fifties—like, why do we even have this, can’t this school get an updated and less broken version that was—I dunno made in this century? 

The kid started to tug on the cardboard boxes that Fangs started working on before fucking off to the void. They were heavy and pushed up to the tables in such a way that Keller wouldn’t be able to open them and clean them out—so I helped him drag them to the center of the room and cut the box open with my blade so he could start organizing and cleaning them out. And if you’re asking, “Sweet Pea why are you cutting cardboard boxes open and organzing and cleaning them out?” Well, let’s just say Principal Weatherbee likes to be very thorough, he’s also a micro-managing dick, but I wouldn’t say that to his face if you don’t want to get suspended like Toni did last week.

Anyway, while I’m doing…something to fix the PA system, and Keller is also doing…something to organize the contents found inside the cardboard boxes, I think of a way to approach the delicate subject of finding out the exact recipe that Kevin used to make those mouthwatering soft and delicious cookies. 

Do I strike up a conversation and drop in the fact that my mom and I devoured his chocolate chip and oatmeal raisin cookies? No, I don’t want to freak him out. Although he did show up at my trailer in the middle of a fucking monsoon, so maybe he would appreciate that?

Or do I use the umbrella as a topic and then move on to the cookies and get the recipes like that?

Or… “Hey, did you like the cookies?” Keller finally spoke up from where he was sitting on the ground and sorting through transcripts—why the fuck are student transcripts being kept in the fucking PA Room? 

“Uh, what?” I said like a fucking dumbass, like I didn’t fucking hear him. What the fuck is wrong with me?

“I said, did you like the cookies?” Keller repeated, “ I saw how you ate them, and I wanted to know if you liked them or not.” 

“Uh, yeah,” I replied like a fucking moron, why did I keep stuttering? What—again, what was wrong with me? “My mom and I really liked them.” 

“Oh,” Keller tilted his neck like some pelican, and an awkward silence descended upon us until he finally said, “Do you want the recipes for them?” 

“Wait, what?” 

“Do. You. Want. The. Recipes. For. The. Cookies?” Keller repeated slowly and concretely like I was some toddler who had an auditory processing disorder, but like whatever, I was acting like one because who offers that upfront? Wtf?

“I—what the fuck man?” I questioned.

Keller looked at me confused, as if he was weighing if continuing this conversation was worth it or not. “Well, you said you and your mom really liked them, and if you guys really liked them, then you’d want to make some at home, right?” 

“I mean I guess…” I replied like a clown, why the fuck did I hesitate? He’s offering me the holy grail here. Snap out of it Sweet Pea!

“Great, what’s your phone number? I’ll send it over a text message.” Keller stated while standing up and dusting off his jeans, which I don’t even know why he did that when there is literally mud caked on the cuffs of his jeans, but whatever, to each their own, I guess. 

“I—one minute, let me just get my phone,” I said while reaching over to the table that I deposited my phone on top of to search where I could buy new wiring for the PA system. 

Keller nodded and then typed my phone number into his phone after I found it and rattled off my phone number. 

“There, sent!” Kevin smiled while looking at me for a beat and then turned around to continue his mission to sort through the fifty cardboard boxes before the start of school today. The pity that I feel for Keller and Fangs for needing to go through these is only overshadowed by the fact that I am a hair-inch from getting electrocuted every single time that I step foot into this room.

“Thanks, Keller.”

“You know that Kevin kid isn’t a bad kid,” Mom said, interrupting my very important process of writing down my thoughts and feelings in my journal while sitting at the kitchen table by speaking about that he-demon.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that; you were almost finished with writing in that thing anyway,” my Mom grinned, looking every bit like the hare-bringer of momness that she is. 

“You literally don’t know that,” I replied, annoyed. “I could have just started writing about the long and hard day I had at school today, but now I guess I can’t because you interrupted me.” 

“You mean a hard day of fucking around and skipping classes like History?”

“Yes, exactly that,” I replied, annunciating every word with a poke of my pen in the direction of my mom, who was standing drinking some orange juice. I don’t know how she can drink so much of that drink. It always gives me a stomach ache and a cold feeling in my bones. 

“Omg, Sweet Pea, how many times have I told you to stop skipping classes?” my Mom stated, exasperated.

“Hey, hey, no, no, school talk right now, we’re at home right now,” I said hurriedly while waving my arms around so fast, which made my pen slip out of my hands and fly out to the living room. Fuck, now I need to find it before Gunmetal decides to use it as her new chew toy.  

“Alright, fine, but you better start showing up at your classes, I don’t care how boring or annoying they seem, you need to learn, got it?” my Mom questioned. 

“Got it,” I nodded, cowed and wishing we never had this conversation. 

“Good! Now go get your pen before Gunmetal decides to use it as a new plaything while I take the cookies out of the oven and judge if we fucked your friend's cookies up or not.” 

“He’s not my friend!” I exclaimed, “He’s more of an annoying mountain goat pelican thingy that likes to make my life harder than anything in the world.” 

Then I thought for a minute and asked, “Wait, shouldn’t you let those cookies cool down for a few minutes before you eat them?” 

I heard a muffled scream and pounding on the kitchen counter by the oven, and then, “Yeah, that would be the smart thing to do.” 

Oh my god. 

[suckitsurveys]

Anything you’re looking forward to this month? My niece turns 5 on Friday! And we have the day off Monday for Memorial Day

What’s the current temperature? It’s in the low 60Fs right now.

Have you or would you ever forage for mushrooms? Sure.

What’s something you dislike about spring time? I haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaate spring weather. The transitional bullshit where it doesn’t get above 55F for forever.

What’s your favorite lollipop flavor? Sour apple blow pops will always be my favorite.

Are you into gardening and what do you enjoy planting? I love gardening. We plant veggies every year and flowers in pots. We planted perennials a few years back and tend to those as well.

What’s some flowers you find to be pretty? Hydrangeas, daisies, petunias, gardenias.

Would you say you’re easy to get along with? I think so.

Who did you last hold hands with? My husband.

What sounds help you sleep? White noise, like a fan sound.

Do you have a loud or more soft laugh? Soft, I guess.

Tell me your best pick up line. I’m glad I got my library card ‘cause I’m checkin you out!

What’s a song that reminds you of warm weather? Oh there are SO many of those. Harry Style’s latest album is an example.

Do you have any interest in fairies? Eh.

What’s the last refreshing drink you had? Water.

Do you name your plants? Nah. Maybe I should.

Do you like to dip your fries in a frosty or ice cream? It’s not something I normally do but I have before. It’s okay.

Do you prefer staying in cuddled up or going out for a date? Both are nice.

Cookies or brownies? Brownies.

What is something you are proud of? My nieces.

Are you a fan of musicals? Some, yeah.

Do you like lemonade? Do you add anything to it? I like it sometimes. and Arnold Palmers.

Are you more of a fast talker or do you talk more slow? I never really thought about it honestly.

Is there anyone who makes you smile no matter what mood you’re in? My nieces.

What are some inanimate objects or things in general that have the same energy or vibe? What is this even asking?

What is something that is quick to cheer you up? Food.

Have you ever stargazed with someone? Sure.

If you were royalty, what would you like to be addressed as? I’m good.

Are there any foods you could eat daily and never get sick of? Sushi.

Are there any things coming up that you have to travel for? I’m thinking about going to see Post Malone in Wisconsin in July, and maybe traveling to the Dells before that as well.

What was a time when you have laughed so hard you cried? Sometime recently.

Plan a good day. Relaxing on a beach or at a waterpark, with all expenses paid..

What would you do with $10,000 right now? Give some to my dad and some to my sister and use the rest to travel somewhere.

If you had to create an alter ego for yourself, what would they be like and what’s their name? I’m okay.

What’s one of your biggest accomplishments today? Work shit.

Do you believe in reincarnation? why or why not? I believe your souls remain on earth in some form or another.

What relative are you closest with? My dad.

Do you have any recurring dreams? Sure.

What last had you startled? The radios my coworkers use to communicate shit across the campus malfunctioned earlier and made the LOUDEST fucking noise and it was so scary.

What emotion have you experienced most lately? Stress.

Let’s say there are no obstacles preventing this.. What would you do for the rest of your life? Travel to every state in the US.

What last made you feel proud? My nieces.

What’s an odd phobia someone you know has? I don’t know.

What did you last search online? The hours for the restaurant we might go to when we go to the Dells.

Do you have any ghost stories you’ve experienced? Eh.

If you were to be a food, what would you be and why? I don’t know.

When did you last dust your home? A monthish ago.

If you could pick an age to stop aging at, what would you choose? I'd be fine staying in my 30s honestly.

[olliedollie1204]

a winter's tale (chapter 1)

Remus goes to a winter break party... so does his love-stricken brother, his meddling roommate, his nosy-ass friends, and, oh yeah, his totally-not-a-crush. What could go wrong?

Read here on AO3

~

“You need to tell him.”

“I’m not gonna tell him. You need to tell him.”

“Well, I’m not gonna tell him!”

“Children, please,” Janus said tiredly. “Daddy’s trying to read.”

Roman glowered at his roommate from across the kitchen table. “Please don’t ever refer to yourself as ‘daddy’ in my presence.”

“Oh, can I call you daddy?” Remus asked, chipper and bright even in the midst of yet another spat with his brother over the breakfast table. He flopped over the back of Janus’ shoulders, wrapping his arms around his chest and making obnoxious kissing noises against the back of his head. Janus patted his arm.

“A tempting offer, but no thank you,” he replied. “I’d rather not become yet another excuse why you refuse to confess your hopeless crush on Logan.”

Remus gagged, moving to step away, but Janus suddenly grabbed his forearms and kept him from leaving the conversation.

“Truly, it’d be such a shame for yet another year of your friendship to come and go without you finding the balls to inform him of your growing romantic feelings for him,” Janus continued.

Remus hissed and struggled against the hold Janus had on him.

“Ah, yes, a perfectly mature response. I’m shaking in my slippers.”

“And it’s not like he’d get mad about it!” Roman added. “Even if Lo doesn’t feel the same way, he has the right to know how badly you want him!”

“And you have the right to ask for what you want from him.”

“Maybe he’ll say he likes you too!”

“Or maybe he’ll reject you, and you can focus your attention on rebuilding your shattered pride and redirecting your emotions toward self love instead.”

Remus stopped struggling. “Oh, I love myself plenty, thank you very much.”

“Yes, I know, we share a wall,” Janus replied. Roman gagged.

“No sex talk at the table, please?”

Remus quirked his head. “Is masturbation sex?”

“You know who would love to have that fascinating debate with you?” Janus interrupted suddenly. He twisted around to catch Remus’ eye without letting him out of his grasp. “Logan.”

Remus groaned. He dropped his head against Janus’ shoulder, banging it softly. “Why are we even talking about me? Roman’s the one who almost sucked face with Virgil last night.”

“We had a moment,” Roman corrected primly. “And… yes, perhaps said moment would’ve been nicely bookmarked with a proclamation of my long-term romantic interest in him, but a bitch is anxious, okay?”

“And if you hadn’t been so distracted eating all of the cookies I literally just baked yesterday,” Janus said to Remus, “then you would’ve heard that Roman actually does intend to profess his love tonight.”

“Bullshit! That’s what he’s said before every winter break party we’ve been to for the last two years!”

“I have a plan!” Roman insisted. “Virgil always leaves parties early, and I know he walks home because he doesn’t want to ask anyone to leave the party to drive him— I’ll find him before he leaves, ask to accompany him home, we’ll have a wonderfully romantic midnight stroll, I’ll time my confession so that I finish just as we’re arriving to his house—”

“Do not make a joke about finishing,” Janus muttered just as Remus opened his mouth.

“Wherein he will have the immediate escape option of going inside if he needs time to process my declaration!” Roman finished triumphantly.

“Is that honestly your plan?” Remus asked.

“It is exactly my plan, brother dear.”

Janus hummed. “And how many times have you attempted to initiate this plan by offering to walk Virgil home, only to chicken out halfway back to his house?”

Roman stuck his tongue out in lieu of answering. And people say Remus is the immature one.

“Well, you have fun with that!” Remus announced, finally pulling himself away from Janus’ grasp. “While you’re pussy-footing around with Virgil, Jan and I’ll be starting our bi-annual semester-ender bender.”

“Unless…” Janus started, before trailing off. Remus froze and looked at him.

“Unless?”

Janus cocked his head and gave Remus an appraising look. “Unless you… follow Roman’s footsteps…”

Remus’ jaw dropped. “Oh, fuck off.”

Janus scoffed, slapping down his newspaper. “Well, at least Roman is trying to pursue his romantic endeavors. You, on the other hand, you’d rather— what? Dance around the subject until you and Logan both finish grad school and your opportunity will be lost to the sands of time?”

“Tonight’s the perfect opportunity!” Roman added. “He’ll be so relieved the semester’s over, he’ll probably start making out with you on the dance floor right then and there. Isn’t that what you want?”

A spark of something hot and sharp burst in Remus’ chest. “You don’t know what the fuck I want.”

He knew of all people, his brother and his roommate were the least likely to be shocked by his outbursts, but even they stopped the ribbing to look at him cautiously. Which Remus hated, because cautious borders on concern which borders on pity, even though he knew that they were just trying to be respectful of his feelings. Bastards.

Because, in reality… Roman really didn’t know what Remus wanted. Remus really didn’t know what Remus wanted. He didn’t know if he wanted to kiss Logan or to hold hands with him, if his fantasies of them two of them together ending with fucking or cuddling, if he even wanted Logan to do anything other than look at him and listen to him and talk with him. That’s all he could think to ask of Logan: he just wanted to hang around him all the time.

Not like he was actually going to ask Logan anything.

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do,” Roman said softly, pulling Remus out of his stupor. He rolled his eyes, half on instinct and half to diffuse the tension in the room.

“Oh, don’t get soft on me, Pissy. We all know I do what I want, when I want— and what I want is to get fucking smashed at this party tonight. Not dragged down by a bunch of sappy confession shit.”

Roman snorted, raising his hands in surrender. “Message received, Gross-feratu. All I ask is that you consider your options— can you think of any better time to have an emotional conversation with Logan than immediately after his final exams are over, when his endorphins levels are at their peak?”

“And at the risk of sounding… altruistic,” Janus added, nose wrinkling with distaste, “I believe you owe it to him to tell him how you feel.”

Remus stuck his tongue out. “Since when do you prioritize other people’s feelings over your own self interest?”

“Since the two of you brought Patton home like a stray,” Janus replied drily. “Besides, the only thing I like more than deception is blackmail. Tell Logan you want to pursue a romantic relationship with him, or I will.”

“Me too!” Roman chimed in. Remus fixed him with a glare.

“Want me to snitch to Emo Nightmare about your little crush, Princeypie?”

“It’ll be mutually assured destruction, dear brother.”

“Yeah? Then I guess you won’t mind if I tell Virgil about all the poetry you’ve written for him.”

“Well, then I’ll tell Logan about the drawings you’ve done of him.”

Remus flushed. “That’s— that’s different, you piece of shit—”

“Aw, what’s wrong? You thought we didn’t notice all the times you pulled up his Instagram just to stare at his pretty face?”

“Don’t call him pretty, zit head!” Remus snapped, bounding around the table and reaching for Roman. Roman squawked and jumped out of his chair just in time for the two of them to begin racing in circles around the dining room table like a couple of cartoon characters.

Janus sighed, flipping to the next page of his newspaper. “One day. One day they’ll kill each other and then I’ll be free.”