#you know he pounds it

[zweiginator]

this with patrick zweig >>>>>

[icarusredwings]

Thinking about Logan forgetting that he IS infact gay sometimes. This man was born in the 1800s and has been in toxic masculine places for a very long time. Is the army pretty gay? Yes. But you aren't allowed to admit it or say it.

Logan: Why the fuck am I on the pride months staff member list? *shakes around paper*

Jubilee: *Blinks* ..... ??

Logan: *Crosses arms* Does it look like I'm gay!?

Jubilee: *slowly reaches for phone* Mr. Howlett Please come to the events organizer office

Logan: ?? Im right here.

Wade: *shows up* You called, Firefly? Oh hi pumpkin!

Jubilee: *Gestures to Wade* Is this not your husband?

Logan: And?

Wade: Ohhh is this about the thing in the closet? Look I swear I locked it!!

Jubilee: Im going to have Jean erase my memory of you ever saying that. Logan.... Is that your husband?

Logan: Yes??

Jubilee: Then you're gay.

Logan: No, im not!

Wade: YEAH!! He's bisexual.

Jubilee: Logan... Do you like men?

Logan: No! What do I look like a southern pansy?

Wade: YEA- wait.... what??

Wade and Jubilee: Should... should we tell him?

[sharkenedfangs]

What do I need to do to get a fic of sub crossdressing male pc begging Bailey to be their first time ( first everything really)? I don't even care about wether PC gets railed like we wish, I honestly highkey just want your take on it.

— ☆ “SIMMERING BENEATH.”

— sucks when your annoyingly bratty, yet pretty bastard of an opthan manages to get past your tight-held clutches, doesn’t it? mister bailey. 1.8k wc

— “the fuck do you want, asher?” : wrote this on the way back home, so on the sort of.. subway thingies, it’s not called that where I am, but they do resemble that and felt fucking nauseous, so apologies in advance if it’s shit. was too good to fully pass up on this one, though couldn’t turn it into a full-on lengthy one due to being busy with other current things. still tried to input every aspect you’ve asked for. yeah, may it be up to your standards then, anon.

Fucking fuck.

No, hell— that wouldn’t truthfully encapsulate the sheer idiocy of his muddled actions even then, because god— fucking shit, why would a man of the likes of Bailey — relatively known, if not factually remembered as the cold, logical one in town — stupidly fall for some mere trickery, childish ploy fabricated by your own stubborn whims? Or, to be quite precise, those pathetic taunts of yours that any man possessing the slightest nerve of a goddamn functional brain, wouldn’t have dumbly caved in to.

Talking about the depraved perverts that’d foolishly slip between the evidently, way too small cracks unfitting for their same, way too fucking large bodies — of the barely opened windows the dumb orphans would forgetfully leave behind. Shakily pawing with sweat slicked hands at some brat’s snoozing body before they’d eventually be chased off by the mere sight of his approaching figure inevitably barging in, hastily mutter on about their prestigious status and so on— fuck, never really truly listened to the shoddy bastards. How Bailey was no man to rudely kick ‘em out of the own crappy establishment he was sloppily running with a twinge of cruelty ever present in his cold gaze.

Yeah, he’s no damn better than those perverted fuckers right about now— possibly worse, but shit, no way in fucking hell will he potentially admit to that despite the cooling air annoyingly caressing his bare skin, sticky sweat clinging onto his flushed flesh nor the disheveled mess of his habitually, slicked back hair partially obscuring his hazy vision of this.. well, fuck— say it or not, admittedly, fucking hot sight shamelessly greeting him in return. Loosened, pristine white dress shirt untucked in face of this, to give forth to a discreet glimpse of one of the numerous tattoos snaked along the surface of his toned figure.

Slightest pout of your rosy, puckered lips he’d unconsciously find himself eyeing for far too long when thoroughly denied for the day by your daily, insistent questioning. Pop your cherry, you had confidently said with a noticeably excited shake of your fists. Might as well endlessly yap his ear off with that unrealistic request of yours— a pitiful plea that somehow, without fully realizing as to how and why — is currently happening within the otherwise narrow confines of his private office. Solely dedicated to calmly concentrate on each and every one of his gruelling tasks. Namely, neatly sorting out the thin sheets of paper openly displaying pertinent information to the numerous orphans residing here, registering the missing few that’d either go in running like some mindless moron or be plainly sold off to a godforsaken hell he held no genuine interest in— Fuck, fuck. You get the gist by now, there.

A well-deserved punishment is what this all is, simply was for that matter, and hah— you seem to be willingly taking it, although, can’t truly say he’s all that suprised. Brat. It’s what you are. Stupidly nosy brat who couldn’t hope to obediently keep his supple hands to himself for the shitty life of him. One that’d so ironically, perfectly fit all too well underneath the weight of his calloused palms restricting your bashful squirming— now contentedly facing the eventual consequences of your impulsive actions with a gleeful smile tracing your curved lips. Rhythmic squeaking of the wooden, chipped desk the man had sworn to fucking god, promised to dearly replace whenever was soonest possible and, well, he’s received his all-time excuse to be snidely given to those thugs.

A cum coated piece of furniture is just about a good reason to be neatly reinstalled with something sharper, newer— something along the lines of that, the bigger the better, probably.

Speaking of big.. Shit, he’s undeniably fucked.

“Don’t you fucking look at me like that, you ungrateful little bastard. I’m putting a roof over your head and a place to stay so— fuck, the least you can do is fucking pay me back on time, but can’t even do that, can you?” Habitually stern is what he’s evidently known best for amongst the nosy orphans, yet that usual bite in his gruff voice is almost.. pitifully lacking in face of whatever the fuck this is— yeah, actually he’s got a clue what it is. Inwardly cursing at how his hips automatically snap back in one sharp motion to then, merely slap forward— flush against your reddened ass. Riddled, fresh marks traced along the entirety of your curved back nor your spread asscheeks for that matter, shouldn’t be looking so infuriatingly pretty after all that harsh spanking he’s had you withstand. Take it as the start of your relatively tame punishment coming from a stone cold man like him, that’s what.

“Like what? A satisfied client? Hah— this is the best day of my life, y’know. Feels so fuckin’ good, Bailey— please don’t stop..” Of-fucking-‘course you’ve already had whatever comment prepared to hurriedly retort back within your noisy mouth, despite being so crudely bent over a flat surface like this. Particularly whiny moan drawn out at the feel of his thick cock satisfyingly stretching you full, sinfully defiling you from virginity itself. Pervertedly spread open with your dizzyingly warm, honeyed— fuck, did he really just think of your hole like that?? Must be losing his goddamn mind. Correct, your fucking hole is the one irreversibly altering his unwavering principles. So fuck you, really.

Sloppy, squelchy noises, all too annoyingly addictive to hear, of your tight, puckered heat fervently sucking his fat cock in, coating it all sticky and wet with your slippery, pink insides. Instinctively hissing at the knee-buckling sight of his veiny length repeatedly remerging and disappearing deep inside because shit— can’t get enough of it. So much so his rough thumbs are subconsciously spreading that tender flesh wide open for his unrelenting, stern gaze to gawk at. Not to mention, those frilly lines adorning that stupidly short skirt, bouncing in tandem with each ruthless thrusts slapped to your backside. Admittedly adorable, cute cock clumsily bobbing from the ruthlessly loud smacks of the caretaker’s fat balls sloppily slapping upon the flush of your ass, teasing— no, irrefutably taunting him by the subtle glimpse of your dribbling, wet dick peeking from beneath that skirt.

Like to play dress up, don’t you? Sneakily slip in those overly feminine, lacy garments the elder man would’ve notably poked fun at the sissies that unabashedly wore such clothings back in his day— ironically enough, now he’s finding himself, balls deep into said ‘sissy’. Meanly tugging at the silken material snugly encircling your flailing legs, neatly tied bows bound to predictably come undone given the unrelenting bounces of your shared figures. Unable to keep still when you’re being fucked or something?

Little, incompetent brat. Constantly managing to crawl underneath his skin, reach the deepest parts within him the caretaker has progressively learned to conceal beneath this ruthlessly heartless facade. Not that Bailey’s the nicest man to begin with, but hell— favouring a good for nothing, admittedly appealing to the eyes— meddling boy like you wasn’t on his fucking wish list either.

Should be crudely wiping off that joyous grin etched upon your features if you actually know what’s good for you. Though, doubt you will.

Fine. He’s not necessarily against doing the honours for you. Frustratingly fuck out the undeniable audacity ever so present in your every movements when carelessly distracting him during work hours— time meant to be initially spent for focusing and godfuckingdammit, merely thinking back on it has him obscenely gritting his teeth, further tightening his unrelenting grip planted along your — sure to be bruised later, which you’re naturally paying the price of it — hips. Heaving groans mixed along with some curses which are presumably directed at you, if not at himself, that he’s uncertain of, really. All he’s stupidly conscious of is the undeniable fact that you might’ve coincidentally, if not intentionally, gotten him dizzyingly drunk off your previously undefiled hole.

Fuck, must be that then. Overly aware of what you’re currently doing to him, aren’t you?

‘S that it? Your admittedly, badly thought out plan simmering deep within your mind, happily tugging at his heartstrings in hopes of getting your mean caretaker to fuck your virgin holes full of cum? Well, all to say— you’ve graciously received what your bratty, stupidly pretty ass has fervently been desiring for all along, huh? Ain’t that right? So in return, it’s only fair that he greedily takes whatever he so pleases, whenever or wherever— that is of no importance then, whether it be comfortably settled atop his lap during office hours or slung along your knees to dutifully service him. “God, don’t you dare fucking move— just— just fucking stay like. Yeah, just like— hah, that.” Got no qualms whatever position that might be in, too caught up in the tender feel of your soft flesh underneath his punishing grasp to sluggishly catch on what’s spilling forth from his swollen red, oozing tip because.. shit, got him cumming— not just plain ol’ cumming, but mortifyingly enough, squirting prematurely too. Effectively painting your stretched walls in a sticky, white mess of his seed, inwardly cursing at himself for potentially letting things stretch on further than they were initially meant to.

Yet as ironic as it may be, his unwavering pride naturally beckons him in turn or is it the petulant whine longingly drawled out from between your rosy lips at the sole thoughts of your time together being cut short? Right— ‘course, what else would it be that’d have you miserably whimper so? Didn’t cum yet, did you? Obediently took his fat load sickeningly dripping free from your sore, used up hole without any sort of complaint, gaze momentarily flicking downwards to the pearly droplets of his cum progressively trickling down the length of your suspended legs laid along the precarious edge of his oaky desk.

Similar to how an opportunist excitedly pounces on every chance set before him— hah, he’s never been much like Eden to cowardly hide amongst the oaky, wooden trees to begin with. Huddle within the shadowy forest in a futile hope that mere distance might erase the muddled past; the foggy, far-away town altogether from their collectively minds.

Rather take part in the animalistic feast even if it would’ve eventually spelled utter ruin for himself, inevitable defeat one cannot simply crawl out of sheer will. And maybe, that said ruin, is delicately staring at him right in the face with a fucked out look stretch upon your features, pupils blown wide with a hint of saliva gracing the corner of your pouty lips that he— fuck, can’t help it, really— have his calloused thumb stroke at, soon swiftly followed by the immediate puckering of your overly attentive mouth suckling along the digit. Incidentally coating it in a slippery wet layer of your spit that you, of course, joyfully take advantage of by stifling a wanton moan right ‘round it.

Shit, going to be the goddamn death of him.

That eventually faith patiently awaiting for him, doesn’t sound so bad when your cum stained, little needy self is notably factored in that messy equation after all.

[rottiens]

Stepmom Yuki has severe breeding kink 😔✊️

she fucks you nice and deep, putting her hands on your belly looking adoringly at the way the cock separates your slippery folds and she would love nothing more than to fill you to the last drop. she in fact, debates whether she would love to cum in your folds or so deep inside you. her thumb moves from your belly button to your clit and strokes it sweetly as she takes the leg above her shoulder and kisses your calf, moving her hips in such a way that she manages to get even deeper.

the idea of her seed inside you, your tits swollen from pregnancy and her lips on your sweet sensitive nipples is what makes her cum silently, calling your name as she bites your skin.

[randomthunk]

Robin is a sweet boy. A dog took his job. He sometimes wakes up in exploded wolf corpses. He's a normal human being, just like you and me.

[shannonsketches]

anyway i just constantly think about how bulma's dad has had a very successful habit of housing and rehabilitating stray animals all her life and it makes a lot of sense that she would know how to fearlessly and carefully handle something dangerous that is puffing up and hissing at her when it feels cornered

[clowndensation]

cannibalism

[gretahayes]

Green Arrow (1988) #135

this exchange is fascinating to me

[hadald1vz1on]

i guess you guys can see my ugly bitch fuck dumb stupid freak son who has fifteen diseases that i hate... his name is caspian i will be punching him and it will kill him

[ropes3amthoughts]

Ok so I’m going back through the manga because I’m trying to write a thing like a proper fancy thing but like these scenes…I LITTRLSLY FEEL NADUEOUS. CAN WE LOOK AT FHESE SCENES FOR A FRW SECOND SPLESDE

He’s offering to cook him something 😭😭😭

Omfg he’s learning and doing his best 😭😭😭 He’s so concentrated too 😭😭😭

Idk why so many people (mostly referring to characters in the manga but sometimes real life people do too) think Laios isn’t interested in people or whatever like he’s literally so sweet and he cares about people so much what the fuck

I was gonna put this* in my rant thing but it’s more Kabru-centric and this is much more Laios-centric so I probs have to cut it.

*This: Laios not only noted that Kabru must be hungry because he was revived (He also specifically used the term blood loss, which was probably because he could see Kabru being smushed to bloody bits in front of him. It also makes it oddly considerate that he noticed Kabru had bled a lot when killed and figured it would probably make him even hungrier) and offered to make Kabru a meal, he also had something specific he wanted to make just for Kabru. He did, unfortunately for Kabru, make a harpy omelet because Kabru said he was interested in monster food, so Kabru dislikes this, but it’s a very sweet gesture if you see it through Laios’ point of view. He doesn’t know Kabru hates monsters, he thinks Kabru is a friendly guy who is also interested in monster cuisine, and so when Kabru is hungry, he takes the time to learn and makes him monster cuisine just for him.

I’m probably just being sensitive and dramatic and shit because I’m on my period but what the fuck Laios is so sweet to him I’m going to be sick he was like “he’s probably hungry” and then he offered to make him something and he worked so hard on it and he thought Kabru would like it he was trying to make Kabru a delicious meal because they’re buddies and whatever what the fuckkkkn 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 shut up he’s so nice to Kabru I love that I love that so much and like Kabru is suffering poor thang but he fucking lied and so Laios is going off the lie he’s being as sweet as he can be making him a supposedly yummy meal ough he’s looking out for him

Spoilers for Dungeon Meshi Manga Chapter 76:

AND THEN LATER WHEN HE FINDS OUT KABRU DIDNT LIKE THE MEALS HE SAYS SORRY EVEN THKIGJ HE DIDNT KNOW AND KABRU LIED TO HOM AND HE OFFETEF T TAKE KABRU TO A NON MONSTER RESTAURNT BECAUSE HE WANT HIM TO HAVE A YUMMY MEAL SHUT FUCK UP WHAT THE FUCK 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 I HOPE HE IS GOOD TO KABRU FOREVER AND WHEN TJEU ARE COWORKERS KABRU EATS GOOD MEALS EVERYDAY 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 KABRUUUUUUUUU 😭😭😭😭 LAISO TRINF TO OFFER HIM YUMMY MEALS MAKES ME SICK 😭😭😭😭😭😭 KABRU YUMMY MEAL PLEASEEEEE AND LAIOS HES HE HT MAKEMEAL 😭😭😭😭😭😭 OUGHH I FELL ILL

😭😭😭

[hella1975]

would you like to talk about how bad the mha ending was hella

as much as i would love to give like. a comprehensive response i genuinely dont think i can get my words together just yet without it being a constant unintelligble stream of 'AND ANOTHER THING-' and bc it's become quite torn in the fandom on if the chapter was good or bad i want like. an actual coherent response here. so i will reblog this if/when i can word it but know IM NOT FUCKING HAPPY

[hesbianyaoi]

when people draw atsushi with a phone they always give him an iphone or just a phone with a touchscreen and it hurts my heart so much. we have to stop ignoring his little flip phone. he doesn't need social media either we have to keep him as chronically offline as possible. atsushi doesn't know what discourse is. if you showed him a meme he'd stare at it for a bit and go "i don't get it" while handing the phone back to you. when he sat in front of an agency laptop for the first time he holds his head in his hands because he doesn't know what the hell to do

[coconut530]

[anon-by-design]

there are bets on when they'll realize

[visenyaism]

the way this has been my only crit of the game so far

[puhpandas]

What's an average conversation between Evan and Gregory like?

(also inspired by an instagram prompt about a flashlight duo sickfic)

Burrow-Nest-Fort

(2,922 words)

Gregory gets sick overnight, and Evan, who stayed over, gets sick as well. They hang out in their little quarantine together with no worries whatsoever.

Gregory groans, long and miserable as Evan takes the thermostat he found in the bathroom out of his mouth. "100.4." Evan says.

"Whyyyy..." Gregory asks aloud, bags under his eyes and completion pale as he sprawls out under his comforter. "I didn't even do anything."

"Nobody gets sick on purpose." Evan smiles a bit, putting the thermostat down.

"You slept right next to me like, all night." Gregory points out. "Do you feel sick at all?"

Now that Evan's thinking about it, he does feel that little prickle in the back of his throat that's the universal sign of an incoming sickness. "...Yeah."

He'd spent the night after coming home with Gregory after school on a Friday like he usually does. Throughout the night, he and Gregory had shared his bed, and Gregory had woken up this morning sick as a dog with no fanfare whatsoever.

Gregory groans again, the roughness in his throat accentuated by the dragged out line. "Great." He frowns, and the stuff clogging up his nose is evidently heard in his voice. "I get sick for no reason and now I make you have to deal with it too."

"Its okay." Evan says genuinely. "Its not like you wanted me to get sick. It's my fault for needing to get in bed with you when I'm too much of a baby anyway."

Gregory just narrows his eyes at Evan at that, his already sunkissed tan cheeks redder from the fever. He just sighs, letting his head fall back against his pillow. "I'm not even responding to that. You know what I'd say anyway."

Yeah. He does. The same thing Gregory's been telling him the past multiple months every time Evan feels sorry for himself. Evan himself sighs, feeling sorry for, well... feeling sorry for himself. "Yeah."

Theres a short spurt of silence after that, but its broken by Gregory. "Whatever." He sucks in through his nose, trying to breathe through the gunk. "Hey, since you're already gonna be a prisoner like me, come here."

Evan raises a brow. "Why?"

Gregory reaches at the foot of his bed to grab his laptop that has ten-thousand stickers on the back. He opens the lid, patting the empty space on the bed next to him. "Let's watch TV, or something. If I don't do something other than lieing here I'm gonna explode."

Evan giggles. "You look like it, too." He says, looking at Gregory's extremely red face from the undoubtedly harsh fever. "You better stop talking until you get a drink or your throat will feel awful later."

Gregory let's his head tilt back against the pillow as he shifts to get more comfortable. "Is my Dad home?"

He takes a look outside the window and sees the white van in the driveway. "Yeah?"

"Go tell him about our predicament." Gregory tells him. "I'd rather get the smothering over with before we get in the middle of an episode."

Evan smiles instinctively at that. "Okay." He replies. "But I'm about to be sick too, okay? It's almost my time to be bedridden too." He says on the way out of Gregory's room.

"Then hoard the snacks while you're down there!" Gregory calls at him, his voice sounding like death.

Evan only says the keywords 'Gregory' and 'sick' before Freddy is thundering up the stairs with Evan struggling to keep up with an armful of junk food.

He only gets to the door seconds after Freddy, but he's already doing said smothering. Somehow, three new throw blankets and a few pillows have appeared out of thin air, and are being tucked around Gregory like a nest of fluff and plush.

"What happened?" Freddy asks, ever worried. "Did something cause this?"

Evan watches Gregory shrug from his bed as he walks around the other side of Freddy, dumping the snacks onto his bedside table. "I dont know." He says, sniffling. "I just woke up sick. And he probably will be too."

Evan knows Gregory must have pointed at him because Freddy is smothering him the next time his brain catches up. "Do you feel alright, Evan?" Freddy asks him, crouching down and feeling his forehead and his temples. "Or should I quarantine the both of you."

Evan laughs slightly, and cringes at how the prickling is steadily getting worse. His head begins to feel a little warm. "Quarantine, I guess." He smiles. "I feel it coming."

"I am sorry." Freddy looks apologetic, despite him doing nothing. He pats Evan on the arm, and hes at the door in an instant. "Get comfortable, you two. I will make you both some soup and orange juice and get you some medicine later."

"Thank you!" Evan calls out half-hazardously as Freddy leaves the room. Gregory pats the little empty space in the next Freddy built for him and hoists his laptop on his knees. "We gotta pick something to watch."

When Evan finally sits down and gets settled with at least two blankets wrapped around his shoulders, he checks the laptop screen to see Gregory browsing an array of TV shows on some streaming service.

Gregory wrestles a hand out from underneath the blankets to point at one. "That one okay?"

Evan laughs at bit, making a miserable noise when his nose begins to clog up. "Yeah. Watching a baking show when your aunt isnt home and we cant get out of bed to make anything is a great idea."

Gregory huffs, and Evan cant see his face, but he imagines he's making one. "No I wont." He says. "My aunts cupcakes are better than any of these people could make."

Evan wiggles a bit, letting his body relax fully into the bed. Gregory's shoulder is pressed against his, and a bit of his hair is touching his forehead. "Stop." He laughs. "You're gonna make me want some."

Gregory laughs, pressing play and clicking on the first episode of a random season. When the episode starts playing and introducing contestants, he makes grabby hands at Evan. Evan just pulls his arm out of the blanket cocoon hes wrapped in and hands him a bag of chips, grabbing crackers for himself.

"This is a Halloween show." Evan points out. "Its January."

"This one is funny though." Gregory replies on the other side of the pillow, sniffling. "They have to carve stuff out of big pumpkins for like, a setting for their food."

Evan's brows raise. "Oh."

Theres this girl that says shes in the show because shes alone and wants to win the prize money for herself and to show everyone that she can do it. Shes one of the only people in the roster who doesnt have a partner or kids at home. Evan thinks hes rooting for her. Theres another guy who looks like hes fresh out of school and says he wants the prize money to start his career and open his own location.

"I'm rooting for him." Gregory says after munching on a handful of Lays. "I want to see how far he gets."

"You just pick the ones that look like theyll struggle so you can feel bad for them." Evan points out.

"I pick the ones who might struggle to watch how they fare against everyone else." Gregory corrects. "Its fun. The skill of watching reality TV is one you havent yet learned, Evan."

Evan scoffs a bit, laughing, and Gregory shifts next to him. "You'll learn as you watch." Gregory tells him. "Trust me."

So after that, Evan just stays quiet and watches. Gregory makes comments now and then, and then later complains about how his throat feels like sandpaper. Evan watches people rush around the kitchen and sketch elaborate sets for their food to be showcased in and carve faces and bodies and animals into pumpkins.

The judges are harsh and kind at the same time. A team's food gets burnt. Some come out perfect. A team gets pounded by the judges and the team the the guy Gregory is rooting for is on is the same the girl Evan's rooting for is. Their team wins the challenge and gets an advantage.

By the end of the first episode, Evan thinks he understands why Gregory watches so much. "Wow." He says just above a whisper, the prickling throat having finally set in all the way. Having nothing to focus on and away from how crap he feels makes him groan in misery, and Gregory isnt far behind him to follow.

"Anthony needs to step it up to impress the judges." Gregory manages in-between sipping at the bottle of water by his bed. "He almost screwed up the decoration."

Evan rolls his eyes, and thinks about how proud winning a challenge made the girl he's rooting for proud of herself. It makes him happy.

"I just want to see what happens next." Evan says, smiling. "I've never watched a lot of TV like this."

"You're missing out." Gregory replies. "Its fine. We can catch you up during our little quarantine."

Their little quarantine. Evan smiles outwardly. That sounds fun. Even if being sick sucks.

Its right before the second episode that Freddy returns to Gregory's room, a big piping bowl of chicken noodle soup in his hands with about two entire hand towels wrapped around the bottom and two spoons stuck in the bowl. He puts a tall glasse of orange juice on the bedside table next to Evan, and the other on the window sill next to Gregory.

Evan unwraps his sore limbs from the cocoon and sits up on the bed, pushing his head with a pillow as he and Gregory use their legs as a table. "Thank you..." Evan says to Freddy, grateful but not without the layer of guilt underneath. "I appreciate it."

"Its no problem, Evan." Freddy smiles in that kind, genuine way of his that's never ever made Evan feel on edge or nervous. Evan grins when Freddy pats him on the head, and Gregory smiles when he does the same to him. "Now I'm sorry, you two," Freddy trails off, pulling a bottle of cough syrup out of an invisible pocket. "But medicine before food, please."

He and Gregory both make ick noises at that, making faces. Freddy laughs at them while he pours the medicine into individual spoons for the two of them, and Evan watches with a twisted lip. "It will make you feel better."

"It better if it tastes like that." Gregory sticks his tongue out. "They're trying to kill us."

"Quite the opposite." Freddy shakes his head, holding out the spoon for Gregory to take first. "Its better to just get it over with, Superstar."

Evan watches as Gregory twists his face into the most dreadful expression hes ever seen, and he cant help but smile in amusement when he makes a show at swallowing it down and making disgusted noises.

Evan takes his with much less more fuss, but his eyes water at the awful fake quote unquote 'grape taste'. He cant help the way his face scrunches up, and both Gregory and Freddy laugh at him.

"Evan," Freddy begins suddenly after capping the medicine and taking the spoons back. His voice sounds more serious, and Evan "I'm going to have to tell your family something about why you aren't home."

Immediately, Evan's stomach drops to his feet.

He must have reacted outwardly, because Freddy frowns. "I know." He says. "But it will be alright. I'll tell them exactly why you're staying over, and--" He cuts himself off, and Evan dares to acknowledge the faint clench in Freddys jaw. "Surely if anything they would not care more than they would be upset."

And Evan finds that Freddys right. He's so used to Michael being in his face all the time that he forgets that his Father is at best neglectful and at worst barely present in his life. If his Father were to react in any way other than a quick 'alright' to the call, it would be a thanks that Evan is out of his hair for at least a few days.

The thought alone tends tears to his eyes. He ducks his head, squeezing his eyes shut when the tears make his nose that much more clogged and his face from the fever that much more unpleasantly hot. "Just tell them that I'm staying the night instead of being sick."

Better to not say he's sick in case his Father suddenly catches onto the maybe lie and thinks more than Evan wants him to. Besides, he could deal without the extra attention from Michael.

Freddy looks like he wants to say something about that, but he doesnt. When Evan peeks up through his home-cut accidental bangs, Freddy just nods, choosing not to linger.

"Alright, Evan." He smiles reassuringly. "Do not worry about it, okay? I'll tell them exactly what you told me to. Just let me handle it."

Just let me handle it. Something about that lingers to him, and it sticks to the walls of his mind.

He's never had anyone to handle it for him before. He's never had someone to take the reigns in regard to his dad and brother to the point where Evan isnt involved. Where he went have to worry about it.

He nods after a few moments, and Evan almost tears up again at the patience. "Okay." He says simply, his voice cracking and rough. He swallows, and ignores the gravelly feeling. "Yes, I would... I would appreciate that. A lot."

Nobody says anything after that, but the silence in comfortable. Freddy just grabs the back of Evan's head and holds it to his chest in a hug, and does the same to Gregory. Gregory snakes an arm around Evan's back and holds him close.

They stay that way for another minute until they break apart, and Freddy smiles that comforting smile at him that's like a weight taken off of his shoulders. "I will handle it." Freddy says again, jerking his head towards the soup. "Now finish your soup, boys. It'll be good for your throat."

Then he shuts the door, and the room is silent. The only sound is Gregorys table fan he always has running and the faint sound of cars outside. The heater kicks on in the house, and the sunlight spills through the open window and casts onto their little bed nest as the only source of light.

Gregory leans back into the bed and gets comfortable, dragging Evan back with him when all he's doing is picking at a roque thread in the hem of his shirt. When Evan looks up, Gregory is smiling with dry, cracked lips, and despite looking like death, its warm.

He doesnt mention anything that just happened. He doesnt try to guess what Evan's deal is and try to help him like he usually does, and Evan's thankful. Gregory seems to understand that now isnt one of the times to do that.

So Evan let's it go. And when Gregory gestures the the soup and nudges Evan's spoon closer to him, Evan just starts eating.

They're back to commentating the show in now time. The soup is only warm instead of hot now, but it still soothes their throat, and the steam clears up their sinuses some. Gregory keeps cracking jokes about the contestants and making fun of the corny host, and Evan laughs along with him, drinking orange juice when his throat prickles.

They marathon the season until the sun passes over the house and all that's left is the dim white sky of winter. The team with both of their favorites makes it to the finale.

The two teams fight over the biggest pumpkin. One of them is uncoordinated and theres a heated argument. Their pumpkin falls and breaks. The other splits up and finishes the pumpkin set in record time and completes their concept with no forks.

By the end, the team they both ended up rooting for wins, and Evan watches as the guy Gregory was rooting for gets his career started, and the girl he was rooting for talks about how she'll open her own bakery and she has friends for life now.

The soup is gone and the orange juice drained by the time the season is over. Gregory says theres eleven more available to watch.

Gregory puts on another season, and Evan burrows further into his little burrito and this time picks a contestant after the team's are decided to be against Gregory.

They watch a whole nother one, and halfway through, the sky outside darkens early like it does in winter, but despite the exhaustion from being sick, Evan wants to go another few hours.

Eventually, right near the finale, Evan and Gregory are forced to leave their blanket armor because Chica apparently came over at some point and baked them cupcakes as a suprise. She brings hot chocolate with her with peppermint sticks in them for their throats, and they eat through them like beavers with wood.

They dont move all day. They only get up to go to the bathroom at the end of the second season (Evan's team won, by the way) to brush their teeth, then they're back in their burrow-nest-fort without asking Freddy to get the air mattress.

Evan still feels like crap when he smushes his face into Gregory's pillow, but it's alright because they're in their little quarantine, and he's out like a light either way, looking forward to another season tomorrow.

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