#platonic if you squint

[pellaaearien]

My love should wear a warning sign

Fawney Rig's been sold. Hob Gadling has some unfinished business.

“Fawney Rig’s been sold.”

Hob chokes on his hot chocolate, coughing through the scalding liquid before looking up at Johanna with streaming eyes. “What?” he demands, voice reedy.

Constantine’s eyes are dark and steady as she watches him. “Sounds like the money’s run out,” she says, not even trying to pretend that she’d come by the information incidentally. She’d been looking into this. Hob can see it in the sharp, bitter curve of her smile, the quiet relish with which she offers it. “The old man’s been moved to hospice for treatment. Sleep disorder.”

Hob knows the vindictive grin spreading across his face is the mirror of Johanna’s. Oh, Dream. You wondrous thing. He has absolutely no desire to get involved in Dream’s personal revenge, but this is something he has to do.

“Oh yeah?” he says casually, like the news is of passing interest. It’s… a little bit scary, actually, how little the knowledge that the house is empty now actually matters to him.

He’d have burned it to the ground regardless and knows he wouldn’t have lost a wink of sleep over it, even without Dream’s influence.

Johanna hands him a glass vial. Hob can’t tell what’s in it. It looks clear but he can feel the weight of it in his palm. The bottled potential. Hob eyes it, and then her.

“What’s this?” he asks.

“Free of charge,” Johanna says breezily, then turns and leaves.

(Read on Ao3)

[craftysploink]

Just a silly little thing for the Bodyguard AU featuring Cruz and @narfitzgarf 's OC Grimm.

[trashy-greyjoy]

really love dynamics that are like 'it honestly doesn't matter if you view them as romantic or platonic, the point is that they love each other. the type of love is inconsequential, all that matters is that it's there'. gotta be one of my favorite genders.

[blorbosinmyheadcentral]

Supervised Machine Learning

[allgremlinart]

not nearly enough South Pole vacay content imo.

[camthecatchameleon]

witchlight art dump once again (I don't know how I should format this) dubiously coalecroux edition

refer to this post for context; lyrics are from Fear and Delight by The Correspondents

an accurate representation of me drawing that second image:

No text versions:

[dreamofbecoming]

listen i know we all love steve “completely ignorant of queer culture to the point that bisexuality is a surprise” harrington being roasted and educated in turns by robin and eddie, yadda yadda, good stuff. i read “they made a horror version of rocky?” in a fic recently and cackled. also a big fan of “he knew he was bi from the start and just never talked about it” as a trope, love it excellent well done

but what about steve who realizes after starcourt that the most important person in his life now has this thing that’s a major part of her life that he knows nothing about, and what if he fucks it up? what if he says something ignorant or rude by accident, and hurts her? what if he loses her because he didn’t know the right thing to say? what if he can’t keep her safe because he doesn’t know what to look out for? absolutely fucking not, this steve says

and listen she’d never say anything, because she can tell that he can tell how much she likes teasing him and teaching him things, so he plays dumb, and she thinks it’s very sweet. but she notices when the zines she keeps under her bed that she buys at that one secret bookshop in indy when she can sneak away on family trips start going missing, always one at a time, and replaced in a few days with another disappearing. and she finds the new ones he must have gone to buy the weekend she was at her aunt’s house hidden in the back of his closet when she goes to steal one of his sweaters. and she notices when he slips more of her queerer movie recommendations into his personal take home pile rather than the movie night stack when he thinks she’s not looking.

she doesn’t notice when he drives to indianapolis after she tries to explain to him why she can’t just ask out a cute girl, tries to impress on him the fear attached to every moment of attraction that he simply has never had to feel, but later she finds a crumpled receipt from a diner in one of his jacket pockets when she’s looking for his keys, and the address is across the street from the bar the gorgeous woman at the bookstore told her about, the one she memorized the address of but hasn’t worked up the guts to think about visiting, and she knows he must have gone looking for a place like that, must have been trying to understand, must have been scoping it out to make sure it was somewhere she could feel safe, after she told him she never had.

so when eddie nearly pops a blood vessel when they clock each other and she mentions that steve is the only person she’s ever come out to before, her hackles come up. because she gets it, she does, he’s only known king steve until recently, so it makes sense that he would be afraid, be concerned for her safety.

but steve is her person, and no one- no one- has ever made her feel as protected or as cared for as he does. no one has ever tried as hard to understand her, no one has ever put so much work into making her feel safe and seen and loved. and she thinks maybe even if no one else ever does, that’s ok. because she has steve, and more importantly steve has her, and that means no one gets to question his ally credentials in her presence without a dressing down to remember, no matter how well they mean or how recently they helped save the world.

(and maybe she’s not as surprised as she could be when he figures out bisexuality all on his own, because she’s been reading all the same pamphlets he has, after all. and she’s seen the way he looks at eddie, i mean come on. maybe no one else has noticed, but then, nobody knows steve harrington like she does.)

[countfagula]

In a flare and watching stranger things so here’s a Steve headcannon:

Steve suffers with chronic pain after everything not just migraines but bone deep pain that just nags at him until either Robin or Eddie convince him to at least try out a mobility aid and of course he’s hesitant at first. He’s so used to being the big strong protector of the group and he feels like the aid is a sign of weakness but after much convincing (and nagging on Robins part) he finally gets a cane and it changes his view completely. He’s actually able to move without too much pain,he able to keep up with the kids again something he’s been struggling with since Vecna and most importantly he has freedom again. Honestly I just need Steve with a mobility aid <3

[spoonguy]

Light Underwater

Pairing: Deep Sea Alien x Gender Neutral Reader

Word Count: 1255

Synopsis: Shipwrecked on an alien planet, miles underwater, you are rescued by a lonely alien.

Content Warnings: Claustrophobia, emetophobia, thalassophobia

They couldn't get over how soft you felt, how warm you were to the touch, the fine hairs coating your skin. They pulled you closer, flush against their gelatinous body, and enveloped you in their countless tendrils. You hummed and traced a finger lazily across their membrane, watching the bioluminescent trail that followed. They hummed as well, and cascades of warm, orange light rippled over their body.

The tidepool you were reclining in was warmer than any back on your home planet, and the air was muggy and hot, so you couldn't say you didn't enjoy the feel of their smooth, cool skin.

When you first crash landed, the air was nearly too thick to breathe, but by now your lungs were mostly accommodating for the lack of oxygen. You inhaled another deep, measured breath and sank further into the embrace of your rescuer.

Their real name was an incomprehensible combination of burbles, hums, and clicks, but they seemed happy enough when you called them by your best approximation, Qila. They had picked a name for you, also, a wavery melodic hum layered with the sound of a bubbling stream. Their native language was so beautiful, it almost made you forget about the oppressive, dark cave you were stuck in.

Your ship had crash-landed, leaving you stranded miles below the water’s surface, leaving you to watch the oxygen levels slowly diminish until a pair of tendrils wormed their way around the seams of the airlock and pulled you to safety. They had come to investigate the noise, only to have their echolocation clicks drowned out by the panicked beating of your heart. Since they had first laid their 

A few of the more prehensile tendrils wrapped around your waist and pulled you gently towards the underside of their gelatinous body. You were pulled into an air-filled pocket they had formed inside themself lined with glowing fluorescent algae from above the water’s surface. It seemed to do an alright job converting your expelled carbon dioxide to breathable oxygen, but you couldn't go more than an hour before you started to get lightheaded. Qila seemed to pick up on your lethargy whenever this happened and was sure to begin to surface shortly after.

The ride to their cave was mostly uneventful, albeit slow. Qila seemed to be even more susceptible to pressure changes than you were, ascending at a snail’s pace. The view was less than spectacular, inky black darkness stretching out for eternity, broken up only by plankton the size of your fist that Qila would ensnare with barbed tendrils that unfurled with uncharacteristic speed.

Their cave was small and far from any other members of their species, or anything else for that matter. Anytime they took you out of the cave, the only thing you could see for miles was ocean. It was always a relief when the opening of their cave came into view, decorated with algae and various aquatic plants. You slipped back out through their permeable skin and swam towards what could be considered your room. It was closer to a pantry than anything, housing materials that could not be stored in water. The walls were coated in the same glowing algae that made it possible to breathe inside of Qila’s body, but the greater volume allowed you to stay here indefinitely. You pulled yourself up onto a ledge, careful not to knock over onto the nearby cubes of salt, sugars, and other soluble minerals, wrapped in hydrophobic coatings.

You turned back to Qila, watching as the vesicle you had traveled in slowly healed itself, closing over until you could no longer see any break in their outer membrane. Only the top part of their bell-shaped body was above the water; the thirty or so feet of tentacles below them were submerged, well past the extent of your vision. They bobbed gently in the water and let out a series of clicks undercut by a high-pitched buzzing.

Well? A single thought resonated in your head, the result of the translation device embedded in your auditory cortex.

“I’m fine, just a little winded. Give me a second.” You weren’t sure if they could actually understand the words you were saying, but they seemed to be able to pick up on the general meaning of your most prominent thoughts and even better from your spoken words. “Can I get some food, though? I’m getting pretty hungry.”

Wait. Will return. Qila disappeared below the still water, leaving you in complete darkness without their bioluminescence. You sat in unlit silence for only a few minutes, listening to the periodic drips of condensation falling back to break the still surface. They returned holding half-a-dozen semi-opaque spheres, each containing a different plant or creature.

The first sphere held what looked to be some sort of crustacean. You peeled open the sphere and pulled out what might have been an arm or leg, encased in a thick black carapace. The shell was easier to remove than you expected, pulling it off in fragmented chunks, which you set beside you in a pile.

Discard. Why?

“The shell—I think that’s what it is, at least—is too sharp for me to swallow. It will cut up my mouth.”

You sniffed the meat and decided that it smelled close enough to crab that it was probably safe enough to eat. A tiny nibble let you know that the taste was at least palatable, if not a little sour.

Acceptable?

“Yeah, for now. Let’s wait to see if I get sick, though.”

The other containers held food that Qila and you had already vetted through trial and error. Who would have thought you could get food poisoning from seaweed? But the purple kelp-looking leaves had left you vomiting and feverish until you bounced back. After that, Qila had become extra cautious in monitoring you for symptoms of food intolerance.

“Thank you; I appreciate it,” you said after you had finished. Qila vocalized happily. “I appreciate you, also. I would have died without your help.”

Enjoy presence. Alone before. Now partner. Happy.

“Partner?” you questioned.

One to share thoughts. To sing with.

“Like a friend?”

Qila was quiet for a while before they responded.

Unsure.

“Qila, are there others like you?”

Far. Inaccessible.

“You can’t see them?”

Correct. Population too large. Exiled.

“Oh. I’m sorry.” You placed a hand along their body.

Request?

“Yeah, what’s up?”

Sing? Together? Qila let out a tentative hum.

“Of course. Um, what do you want me to sing?”

Important song. Meaningful.

You softly began to hum the melody of your favorite song before you broke out into the first verse. Qila began to harmonize, adding percussive clicks and ethereal droning. The muted light inside them grew brighter, more brilliant, until it illuminated the whole cave. Each note their produce lit up different spots on their skin, only to fade as the sound faded. As you came to the end of the last line, you let your voice trail off, and the echos grew quieter until they were inaudible.

Qila was glowing; mesmerizing swirls of bioluminescence cast warm light throughout the dark cave. They continued to murmur bits and pieces of the melody that had stuck with them.

Request?

“Anything.”

Stay. Here, together.

“You know I can’t exactly leave. My ship is broken.”

Unimportant. Promise.

“Absolutely.”

The wave of light that radiated off of Qila was so bright it hurt your eyes. They warbled happy melodies, only parts of which your translator could pick up.

Joy. Companion. Here. Together. Always.

[yaoisquidbob]

jamming out B33

[fanby-fckry]

Alastor: Would you like to hear some dark humor, Angel Dust?

Angel Dust: Sure, I love dark humor.

Alastor: Alright. :)

Alastor: *Turns off the lights*

Alastor: Knock knock. :)

Angel Dust: Turn the damn lights back on.

[semiweirdshipper]

Slashers as fathers with a child/reader.

Notes: 100% NON-ROMANTIC. Platonic love only. Non-binary reader. The reader is less than ten years old (you decide the age). Freddy is alive and NOT a pedophile. (If you wanna ship Hannibal and Will together or view them as just friends, it's completely up to you).

Summary: The slasher fathers comforting their child/reader after they just got home from surgery.

Some of you are probably thinking "really, Weirdo? This is gonna be a thing now?" And my answer is absolutely! Hey, when you grow up in a rough environment, some times you just wanna immerse yourself into a reality where you're innocent, happy, safe, accepted and loved. And so thus I present these fatherly slasher drabbles. I hope they bring you peace and happiness.

Freddy

After you got home from your surgery, Freddy hadn't been prepared for just how emotional and clingy you would become, but he didn't mind, and he learned how to adjust straight away. He had already called into work to report a few days off so that he could provide you with extensive care.

Not once had you left his side. All day you had been attached to him, whimpering and groaning in small remnants of pain. It tugged at his heart and made him feel even more protective than what he already was. If only he could take your pain and fear away.

He had been tending to your needs all day. Fixing you sippy cups filled with broth since you couldn't eat whole foods yet. Holding you against his chest so that he could kiss your forehead and rub your back while mumbling loving reassurances to you. Coloring pictures and watching cartoons with you.

"Daddy... Do you love me?" You asked for what felt like the thousandth time.

Freddy, helping to make a wall of pillows around the edge of the bed, looked to you and said, "More than anything, sweetie. You are my world. You know that."

You whimpered, hugging a pillow against your chest. You were hurting, and you couldn't help but to seek reassurance from him. "You won't leave me... right?" You look to him sadly.

Freddy walked over to you and knelt down, cupping your cheeks and leaning in to kiss your head. "Never. Daddy will always be here for you no matter what. You hear me?"

Nodding, you frown a bit and stare down at the floor, "Yes, but I... I'm so scared, daddy, I-I don't wanna go back there again."

"I know," He spoke softly, gently squeezing your shoulder, "And you're not going to, alright? It's over. You don't have to go back. You're here with daddy now. Everything's gonna be alright, ok?"

"Ok," You whisper.

Freddy coaxed the pillow from your arms and pulled you in for a hug, "I love you, baby. More than anything. You know that, right?"

"I love you more, daddy," You smile big, soaking up his loving attention like a sponge.

Freddy pulled away and made a goofy thinking face, his eyes squinting at you, "Mm... Couldn't possibly. Now, let's get you in bed."

Smiling in joy at your giggles, Freddy made sure to be extra gentle with you while helping you to climb onto the bed. After shutting the lights off, he climbed in with you, barely laying on his back before you were snuggling right into his side.

"How are you feeling?" He asked, wrapping an arm around you, his fingers massaging through your hair against your head.

It felt nice and had you whimpering in soothing relaxation, "Hurts..."

"It'll feel better soon, sweetie," Freddy kissed your temple and pulled a blanket over both of you.

"Please don't let those scary people take me again," You mumble into his chest, your hands shaking a bit as you fought against crying, "Please."

"No one's going to take you, (y/n)," Freddy smiled a bit, fond of your adorable little fears. "You're home now and you're with me, and I'm gonna take good care of you until you feel better, alright?"

"Ok, daddy," You say softly, seeking comfort and safety by snuggling into his chest.

Freddy covered you up and cradled you against him. It broke his heart knowing that you were in pain, but he would always be there to comfort and love you no matter what.

Bo Sinclair + Uncle Vincent and Lester

Throughout the whole day after your dad brought you home from the hospital, you had taken turns latching onto him and your two uncles. You were very clingy and emotional, endlessly seeking their comfort, security and reassurance.

At work, Lester and Bo took turns running the gas station. Right now Lester sat in the bed of his truck, reclined against the side with you curled up in his lap, a blanket covering you as you both peacefully snoozed.

"Hey, Les? Hey, wake up," Someone demanded in a whisper tone, a hand nudging his shoulder.

Lester woke up with a groan, his arms tightening around you as he creaked open his eyes. When he saw who had interrupted his beauty sleep, he pouted and shook his head, whispering, "Aw, c'mon now. Don't ya got nothin' better to do?"

"If by 'better' ya mean spendin' some time with my child? Then yeah, I most certainly do," Bo reached in to pry his brother's arms off of you, "Now get your ass in there. Mans waitin' on his transmission."

"Lester do this, Lester do that," Lester mocked quietly, sticking his tongue out and glaring at his older sibling, "'I'm a killjoy who thinks he can boss everyone 'round jus' 'cause I got cool lookin' hair'"

"You don't shut your trap, an' I'm gonna-"

"Mm, daddy?" You roused from Lester's lap, your body immediately tensing as you practically jumped upwards in fear, "Daddy? Wh-what's going on? What's happening? Y-you're not taking me back, are you? Oww..."

"Whoa, hey now," Both Bo and Lester nearly bumped heads trying to hug you.

Lester was the one who won, sitting up straight with his legs hanging over the tailgate, "Hey now, critter bug, ya can't be movin' 'round like that. You'll hurt yourself."

"That's right," Bo stood in front of you and Lester, one hand reaching out to cup your reddened face, "An' quit thinkin' we're gonna take ya back. We ain't. Your surgery is over with. Ya don't needa' be worrying yourself no more, alright?"

You were teary eyed, one hand holding your stitched up, bandaged wound as you nod. "It was jus' so scary... And it hurts."

The little crackle of sadness in your voice broke both Lester and Bo's hearts. "I know, critter, I know. But you're gonna feel better soon, ok?" Bo went to pry Lester's hands away so that he could gently hold you against his chest, "Jus' focus on daddy's heartbeat, remember? It'll make everything better."

"My heartbeat could'a worked..." Lester grumbled, crossing his arms.

You whimpered while doing as he said, your little hands holding onto his neck as your head rested against his chest. You breathed in his comforting, familiar scent and listened to his heartbeat, feeling it thud against your upper body. It felt nice. You were safe and cozy. The pain from your surgery subsided.

"I... I wanna feel Uncle Les' heartbeat too," You say.

"Awww, thought ya'd never ask," Lester grinned and went to hug you from behind, his hands going to rest on Bo's waist.

"Eh-eh, wh-whoa-wait jus' a minute-I..." Bo's eyes rolled into the back of his head and he growled in frustration, but hearing the laughter it roused from you put a small smile on his face. He loves you more than anything, (y/n), and he'll always, always be there for you.

Michael + Aunt Laurie

Ever since you got out of the hospital, you had been attached to him like velcro. Off and on you would have emotional spells, complaining about pain and how scary the experience was. Michael knew that the doctors had technically helped you, but he still kind of just wanted to, you know... Throttle them. Just a little?

Right now he was sitting on the couch with you sitting sideways on his lap. You were reclined back against his arm, your head tilted forward a bit as he held your sippy-cup to your mouth like a mother would hold a bottle of milk out for her baby. Laurie had explained to him how some children who had surgery often acted younger than what they were due to the trauma of the experience.

But Michael didn't mind babying you. In fact he really enjoyed it. It comforted you and it was extremely endearing to him- reminding him of when you were younger. So helpless, small and vulnerable. He would do anything to protect you and keep you safe.

"Mm?" You tap on your dad's hand.

Michael pulled the sippy cup away and blinked at you, wondering what was wrong.

"I'm sleepy. Can we do the jacket thing again, please?" You ask, nuzzling against his chest and mumbling, "It's been forever."

Oh yes. The 'jacket thing'. Michael nodded, setting your sippy-cup aside and going to coax you off his lap. Because of your stitches, he didn't want to carry you around too much despite every overprotective cell in his body screaming at him to keep you as close to him as possible, and he held your hand on the way to his bedroom.

Fetching the very large jacket from the closet, Michael put it on and went to lay back on the bed after helping you climb aboard. Then you went to lay on top of him, your hands looping underneath his upper arms as your face lay comfortably against his chest. Once you were situated, Michael stretched the jacket over the top of you and zipped it up most of the way, clasping you both securely together.

This was a habit Michael had started ever since you were an infant. He would use jackets to hold you close to his chest, obsessed with keeping you safe and secure at all times. He couldn't help it. He had experience with so many bad people. The thought of leaving you unguarded for even a second drove him crazy with anxiety.

"Daddy?" You murmur against his chest, "Did I do something bad? Is that why I have to hurt?"

Michael shook his head. His hands quickly went to cup your face, his fingers brushing through your hair. No. Of course not. Why would you ask something like that?

"Then why? Why did I have to-" You hiccuped, pushing yourself against him as much as you could as if he were a safety fort of pillows.

"Because you had a blockage, honey," Laurie explained as she brought you your freshly made sippy-cup and Michael a glass of water, "And some times stuff like that happens to people. It doesn't mean that you did anything bad."

Michael looked to his sister with gratitude. Gratitude that fell into irritation when she pulled her over-stuffed camera out and quickly took a picture of the two of you. "Yep, that one's going on the fridge."

Rolling his eyes, Michael brushed your face before lifting his hands to explain to you through sign-language how he was sorry that you had to go through this, but him and Laurie were right here beside you and they were going to do their best to make sure that you were taken care of.

Hannibal + Will

Will knocked on the door. Whenever it opened he was met with a sight that had his mouth gaping. Hannibal stood there, his hair messy, his tie uneven, his vest crooked, and his shoes gone. His eyes had dark circles beneath them, but even then his expression was calm and full of understanding.

"Good evening, Will. Thank you for coming," He whispered, inviting him in.

"So... It's that bad, huh?" Will whispered back, eying your sleeping figure from where it was being held against Hannibal's waist, "They okay? And-uh... Are 'you' okay?"

"The surgery went well. (y/n) was released earlier this afternoon. Aside from some discomfort and pain, they have been... 'Attached'," Hannibal chuckled fondly, turning to give your snoozing self a loving stare, "As for me? Well, I haven't used the restroom in over eight hours, give or take."

"Wow, ok," Will nodded and went to lift his arms out, "Yeah. You go use the restroom and shower if you want- probably throw in a glass or two of wine while you're at it, and I'll just-yeah, I'll just take them for a bit."

"Thank you, Will," Hannibal said gratefully, carefully transporting you over to his best friend, "Be gentle with them."

"I will," Will nodded, gently holding you against his chest and rocking you softly, "We'll be waiting for you on the couch."

"Thank you," Hannibal bowed slightly in tremendous appreciation and politely dismissed himself to go use the restroom, shower and change. Thank goodness he had Will. Will was your second favorite person besides him, and he figured that if you were to wake up then you might not mind being not-attached to him for a bit.

And it's not that Hannibal minded you being attached. Not at all. He just needed some time to get himself cleaned up properly. He couldn't do that when you refused to let go of his arm.

This whole day had been a fiasco. You were unbelievably emotional after the surgery, constantly fearing being taken back, and complaining about the pain. You were so afraid and uncomfortable that you even apologized to him and promised to never do anything bad- even though you hadn't done anything bad in the first place- just as long as he never took you back there again.

And that's why you clung to him so strongly. You sought his constant praise, reassurance and security, and he had supplied it in generous amounts. All day he had tended to your needs; feeding you, reading to you, holding you close and watching movies. Anything to make you happy.

By the time Hannibal had showered, downed some beverage and changed into something more comfortable, he walked into his living room and felt his heart get struck with warmth by what he saw.

You were sitting in Will's lap, your tired eyes calmly watching the TV as you sucked your thumb. On the table sat some take-out from one of Hannibal's favorite restaurants- obviously ordered by Will. Buh-bye midnight cooking.

Will locked eyes with him before you did, and Hannibal took the chance to quickly mouth something to him.

When you noticed him, you gasped happily and reached out for him, "Daddy!"

"Hello my little lamb, how are you feeling?" He asked, sitting in the space beside Will. He was humbled that you didn't try to get out of his lap straight away.

"Okay," You say softly, looking up at Will who leaned down and peppered playful kisses against your head, "Will said you were stinky and that you needed to potty."

"Did he?" Hannibal cocked his head at his best friend.

Will laughed in fondness. Hannibal joined him, so very appreciative of him and his support. And he was also appreciative of you for listening to him and understanding. All three of you loved each other so much. It was such a beautiful family circle.

...

I doubt anyone will answer, but it's just a fun question... Are there any other slashers that you would like to see be written as a father figure?

[blaackbiird]

finished those sketches regarding my Burning Days idea [ here ]

additional for purpose of explanation: the first day of this condition he usually spends in a full bath, to prevent possible fires. In this case, he didn't manage to make it in, so his bathroom flooded.

As hotelier, it's obviously Alastor's job to investigate why the ceiling is leaking. it certainly wasn't out of any concern

definitely starting to fall into the "Lucifer's wearing makeup" camp lmao

[ourselvers]

everyone needs a manic pixie dream ghost in their lives

[tsukinoshinjiu]

"...They're unsightly." "Not at all. They're part of you."

[dukeyeatsdeodorant]

Logan: Patton, why is there a Q on the chess board?

Patton, playing chess with Roman: We lost one of the pawns, so we're using that instead!

Logan: Oh..okay? Well, I'm going to the store.

Roman: Can you get me some icecream?

Logan: I don't think we have enough money in our budget for that.

Patton: Heh, you can use my Q-Pawn!

Logan:

Patton: Like- Like coupon? Get it?

Logan: No icecream for either of you.

Patton and Roman: NOOOOO