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gnocchighoul · 4 years

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Operation Hot Potato

Summary:

“See? She’s just a baby~” you coo, gently wiggling the kitten in his face.

Lucifer grimaces. Takes another, larger step back. “If a baby is what you want, I’d rather give you one myself.”

(You bring home a kitten and try to hide her from Lucifer. Unfortunately for you, nothing gets past the House of Lamentation’s resident pet-hater.)

Word Count: 3.6k

AO3 Portal

You found a kitten.

Well—kind of. It’s debatable.

You think it’s a kitten. She certainly looks like one—fluffy little thing with snow-white fur, blue eyes, a poofy little triangular head, and the most perfectly pink toe beans you’ve ever had the pleasure of squishing.

The reason why you’re so hesitant to call her a kitten?

She breathes fire. Hiccups fireballs. Sneezes flaming hot streams of… well, flames.

You learned that firsthand ten minutes ago, when you nearly got your eyebrows singed off by a particularly dangerous sneeze. All you wanted to do was give her a smooch on her wittle pink nose, you weren’t expecting to get blasted in the face with an orangey-red inferno.

But you know what? It doesn’t matter if she’s a little strange. You’ve sworn your everlasting love to your newfound daughter—your secret daughter that the demon brothers can absolutely not know about under any circumstances whatsoever, because you just know that Lucifer will make you put her back in the wild where you found her.

Your fire-sneezing, bouncing baby girl wouldn’t last another day out in the harsh wilderness (aka the dumpster that you retrieved her from). In the forty-seven minutes that you’ve had her, she’s grown accustomed to belly scratches, sleeping in your bed, and gnawing on only the finest tortilla chips in the Devildom.

Her name is Tater Tot.

She sticks out like a sore white thumb among your colorful assortment of pillows. Not that she cares. She’s living it up in the lap of luxury. Tater Tot stretches—turns around with every paw in the air, proudly showing off her rotund little baby belly, and mrrps at you.

Its the cutest thing you've ever fucking seen. You just wanna SQUEEZE her. Ugh, who would've guessed that a little trash fire baby would steal your heart so quickly?

And it’s not like you broke the rules and brought home a pet on purpose. Tater Tot had chosen you. By choosing to rummage around in that specific dumpster that you just so happened to walk past on your way home from RAD, Tater Tot had effectively decided that you were to be her new caretaker.

It’s fate. Kismet. You’ve wanted a pet for so long—dog, cat, dragon, gremlin, doesn’t matter. You’ve spent hours upon hours bitching and moaning to anyone that’ll listen about how badly you’ve wanted a pet to smother with your love. Nobody has been able to escape your woe. Everyone—the brothers, the angels, Solomon, and even your good buddy Diavolo (somehow, Barbatos has managed to evade you) have all been forced to listen to your lamenting about the pet-shaped hole in your heart.

But finally—finally—your prayers have been answered.

With a fire breathing kitten.

Oh yeah. Kismet.

You’re fairly certain that Tater Tot has never lived in a house. She had been perfectly content to snuggle up in your school uniform like some kind of tiny, pouch dwelling, heat seeking creature, until you had snuck into your bedroom and closed the door behind you.

The second you set her on the floor, it was like a switch flipped. Tater Tot had shown off her unnatural strength by flinging her little puffball body around the room like a possessed tumbleweed, spastically crashing around the room and knocking over furniture and keepsakes alike.

You had finally cornered her under your bed and sat peacefully nearby, humming quietly to calm her. It didn’t take long for you to coax her out with snacks—she liked the chips, but passionately disliked the gummy worms—and within twenty minutes you had Tater Tot lounging with you on the bed, rubbing her soft little cheeks into your palm for rubs and scritches.

You need to come up with a plan to hide your beloved child ASAP. It’s only a matter of time until either Lucifer hauls you off to his room or one of the brothers decides to camp out in yours for the night, and if word gets back to Lucifer that you’re harboring a fugitive animal… Well, favoritism or not, it won’t end pretty.

Though perhaps there is one person who can help you with this little secret.

Satan. The cat-loving fourth brother.

Man oh man, he’s going to be thrilled with sweet little Tater Tot. You have to be careful though—you reckon that there is a 96% chance that he’ll try to steal her away from you. Trying to juggle custody battles and harboring your secret daughter from Lucifer all at the same time sounds like such a pain.

But… That would still be better than having to put Tater Tot back on the streets.

With the threat of big-meanie-Lucifer looming over you like a particularly gothic and pet-hating phantom, you come to a final decision. You’re just going to have to pull on your big girl pants and accept the soul crushing truth of the situation.

Satan is your only hope.

But how are you going to sneak your daughter all the way over to his room?

You look around your own room for something, anything that can hide your beloved dumpster pet and—ohohoho.

“Darling?”

You freeze midstep.

Busted.

“What’s up, Lucifer?” You try so hard to keep your voice calm and normal. So hard.

Judging by the way Lucifer looks at you, you’ve failed. And you were so close. Satan’s bedroom is literally right there! Only a few yards away! If only you’d just had ten more seconds to yourself in the dark hallway... Alas, the warden your beloved Lucifer aka the resident pet hater stands between you and the dusty salvation that is Satan’s library of a bedroom.

You shuffle your feet a bit nervously. Readjust your grip on the cardboard box. A bit warily, Lucifer eyes it.

“What’s in the box?”

You panic. “What box?”

Fuck.

Lucifer cracks a smile, though it doesn’t meet his gaze. He gestures to the cardboard box that you are currently holding near to your chest like some sort of ugly, cubic liferaft.

“Oh!” You laugh. It’s too high pitched. Suspicious. “This box? It’s just some books for Satan, it’s nothing—”

The box sneezes.

Your mouth snaps shut and you thank all the fucking stars in heaven that this sneeze didn’t flambé you.

Lucifer’s eyes narrow accusingly. Tone icy and sharp, he says, “Books? Is that so?”

Fuck fuck fuck fuck—

You wilt a bit under the intensity of his gaze. “They’re… cursed books? Yeah, so cursed and dangerous and only Satan knows how to nullify the evilness of these books so I’m gonna just slip past you—”

Lucifer takes a step to the left, planting himself firmly in your path and effectively thwarting your desperate grand escape. A single blade of moonlight cuts through the curtains and slices through the shadows, Lucifer now caught in the spotlight and—oh that fucker did that on purpose. Ugh, what a drama queen.

Red eyes practically glowing in the dark, he nods menacingly at the box. “Go on then. Open it.”

“I dunno, I really shouldn’t because of the curses and—”

Clearly not in the mood to entertain your scheming-slash-rambling, Lucifer takes matters into his own hands. Before you can twist away, one of his hands darts out to knock the lid off of the box and—

Books. It’s filled with books.

He frowns. Lifts one up and—nope, there’s just more books underneath. “...What?”

“Happy? Now if you don’t mind I really should get—”

“Let me help you with that.”

Your reflexes aren't fast enough. Before you can leap back or Sparta kick him away, Lucifer plucks the box right out of your arms… and reveals a squirming lump beneath your sweater, right inbetween your breasts. The box hits the floor. Lucifer stares at your newly acquired mass with a very particular sort of horror that you’ve never seen before.

You panic. Again.

“...I grew a new boob. I think the Devildom air is toxic or something, but it’s okay! The more the merrier, right? We can still—gET YOUR HANDS OFF MY TIDDIES—”

Lucifer presses one hand to your lower back, trapping you, and yanks down your zipper, revealing the purrito that is wrapped kind-of-securely to your chest with a scarf. He recoils backwards, looking equal parts horrified and peeved off.

Time for Plan B.

93% sure that you can still recover from this situation that is rapidly soaring downhill, you stuff your hands into your pockets and then throw them outwards, flinging fistfuls of rainbow confetti into the air. “Surpriiiise! You’re a daddy! Say hello to our daughter.”

“No.”

“Her name is Tater Tot. Personally, I think she takes after you.”

The Tater in question shimmies out of her silky prison and tumbles nose first into your palms. You hold her right up to Lucifer’s face, grinning like a goddamn sociopath when he takes an alarmed step backwards. Little puffball paws desperately try to swipe at his nose. Lucifer looks downright offended by the assault of pink toe beans.

“See? She’s just a baby~” you coo, gently wiggling the noodle-limp kitten in his face.

Lucifer grimaces. Takes another, larger step back. “If a baby is what you want, I’d rather give you one myself.”

“As fun as that sounds, we have a perfectly good one right here!”

“That thing is not a baby. Where did you find it?”

There’s a concerned little scrunch in his brow that you wanna smooth over with your thumb, but when you try to close the distance between you two, he moves further out of reach. Frowning, you hug Tater Tot to your chest. She snuggles her face into the crook of your neck and purrs like the smallest biodiesel engine in all of the realms.

“I found her in a dumpster!” you say, perhaps a bit too proudly.

Lucifer’s eyes widen. “In the city?”

“Why is that so shocking? Does the Devildom not have stray cats?”

“That’s not a cat.”

“Well yeah I kinda figured, what with the whole fire breathing thing and all, but—”

“It’s a chimera.”

You stare at Lucifer. Try to gauge how serious he’s being. Tater Tot nibbles on your thumb with little needle-like teeth.

Surely he’s joking.

“...Like the lion-goat-lizard thing? That chimera?”

Lucifer nods.

Like you’re in some twisted version of the Lion King, you hold Tater Tot up in the beam of moonlight that Mr. Doom and Gloom had previously been occupying. Examine her totally normal kitten-features. The distinct lack of goat hooves. Miss Tater licks her nose. A Chimera? Her?

Surely he’s fucking with you.

But… it would explain the whole fire-breathing thing. Kind of. You’re not fully convinced he’s lying, but the truth doesn’t make much more sense.

But if she is a chimera… that’s so badass.

If Lucifer thinks for one second that Tater Tot being a nightmarish Hell creature is going to scare you into giving her up, then he is sorely mistaken. (You did choose to date him, after all. You're an expert at loving on Hellish beings.) At the end of the day, whether Tater is a chimera or a cat or whatever the hell else, you’ve already bonded with each other. She’s your baby and you are not going to let him get rid of her.

If he gets Cerberus, then you get your funky little Tater Tot, dammit.

Lucifer watches this journey of emotions play out on your face. His eyes narrow. He says your name slowly, strained—a thinly veiled warning in his voice.

The grin that overtakes your face can only be described as evil.

“We’re keeping her.”

“Absolutely not.”

“You can’t be serious.”

From the depths of your blanket fort, your hand emerges to flip Lucifer off. He scowls.

“This blanket fort is only for Tater Tot and me.”

“Then perhaps you should relocate to your bed.” Lucifer growls.

You snuggle further into the black sheets cocooning you. With impressive speed, you had raced back to Lucifer’s room and stripped every piece of fabric from his bed in record time. From there, it was simply a matter of combining the dark sheets with a bunch of pillows and voila. You had created your very own anti-Lucifer fortress, right in the middle of his bed.

Tater Tot army-crawls across your thigh and worms her way into the sheets, vanishing like a ninja.

"What?" You peek at Lucifer through a small opening in the fabric. “But then you would just ignore me and Tater Tot.”

“Yes, exactly. I’m glad that we’re on the same page.”

“No! We’re not on the same page at all,” you scowl. “I’m not moving until you bond with her.”

“Then I suppose you’ll be stuck there forever.”

“Maybe I will!”

You can’t see him right now, but you know in the depths of your heart that Lucifer is rolling his eyes at you.

Which, y’know. Fair. You are being a little bit ridiculous. But what choice do you have? The confetti didn't work and Lucifer needs to form an everlasting bond with Tater Tot. He needs to experience how lovely and precious and wonderful your little baby is, so that he won’t make you put her back in the dumpster where you found her.

You have one last tactic. It is by far the absolute worst.

Talking to him. Like some kind of functioning, responsible adult, because apparently that's what you're supposed to do in a healthy relationship. Blegh.

While you agonize over stooping to this final resort, Lucifer climbs into the bed without a word and settles himself in like he owns the place. Which he does. But that’s beside the point.

One of your arms emerges from the blanket shield to poke at his pajama clad thigh. He doesn’t react. So naturally, you poke him again. And again. And again, until finally he sighs, “What?”

You squirm your way out of the stuffy blankets, gulping down air once you're free—sweet baby Jesus, fresh air has never felt so good—and Tater Tot flies out after you, rocketing across the mattress at the speed of light and tumbling around like a little white pom pom. While she does her own thing, you worm your way into Lucifer’s side so that you’re halfway on top of his chest. He huffs and lays there like a board, refusing to hug you, so you grab his arm and wrap it around your shoulders yourself.

Here goes nothing.

“Why are you so against having a pet?” you ask, dancing the pads of your fingers over his chest.

Lucifer cracks one eye open. “The first and last time I allowed pets in the house, Satan brought home 48 cats. In one hour.”

...You really should have seen that one coming.

“Oh. Well, I mean… Is that reallyyy a bad thing—ow! You jerk, I was just kidding.” You pout. “You didn’t have to pinch my butt that hard.”

Lucifer snickers and pats your butt consolingly. “Mmm, no, I didn’t. But I wanted to.”

Briefly, you consider headbutting him right in the chin. But alas, that wouldn’t solve anything, so you settle for pressing a kiss to his collarbone, then reach a hand up to play with his hair, just how he likes. It’s not very ~vengeful~ buuut it’s bound to put him in a better mood.

You trace cutesy little heart shapes on his right pec. “You know what I want?”

Lucifer closes his eyes—lets his head fall back onto the mattress. “We’re not keeping her.”

You snuggle into his chest with a happy little hum. “Yes we are.”

“...Just for the night. Tomorrow you're putting her back where you found her."

You wake up in agony.

It feels like you’ve had a lung ripped out and replaced with serrated knives. Or shark teeth. Each breath drags oh so painfully at your—just kidding.

You wake up well rested and tangled in the bedsheets, your head hanging off the side of the mattress. You’re a little hazy-brained and your skull feels like it weighs a thousand pounds, but that’s probably because of all the blood rushing to your head. When you roll over and haul yourself back up onto the bed, a noise escapes you that is definitely not fit for polite company.

The murky depths of slumber threaten to take you again, so you pat around the bed with your hand, looking for your favorite demon-slash-body pillow. You pat. And keep patting. Where the hell is Lucifer?

You crack one bleary eye open, trying to find Lucifer and—

Where the hell is Tater Tot?

Your heart jolts in your chest as you realize a few things all at once.

One: Lucifer is missing.

Two: Tater Tot is missing.

Three: You slept through breakfast, but that’s less important.

You’re off like a shot, wrestling yourself out of the sheets and flinging them to the floor, then stumbling across the room to get to the door before your brain can even fully wake up. It’s fine, you don’t need 100% brainpower, you just need to find your baby.

You’ve barely taken four steps into the hallway when you slam nose first into Mammon. He catches you, saving your face from becoming acquainted with the floor, and you grab him by the leathery lapels of his jacket.

“Where’s Lucifer?!” you hiss.

Mammon desperately tries to squirm out of your feral grip. You shake him like a polaroid picture.

“Geez, knock it off would ya?! He’s in his office, what the hell is up with you? Wh—HEY! I’M NOT DONE TALKIN’ TO YA!”

Whatever the Weenie has to say to you is less important than finding your child, so as soon as you acquire Lucifer’s location, you haul ass to Lucifer’s study.

In a raging fury that could rival Satan’s existence, you fling open the door, ready to tear Lucifer a new one for not even letting you say goodbye to your beloved kitten and—

And your heart melts into a warm, gooey puddle.

Lucifer is sitting at his desk. Tater Tot is draped across his shoulders.

Lucifer glares at you, but there's no real bite in his gaze. “Keep it down, Phobos is sleeping.”

You blink stupidly, your brain racing at a thousand miles an hour to catch up with whatever the hell you’re currently feeling that has you all mushy and moon-eyed. “Phobos? What the hell? That’s not her name at all.”

“My love, we are not naming our daughter after potatoes. Her name is now Phobos. She and I came to a mutual agreement that it is far more fitting of a name for a creature of her pedigree.”

...You’re so torn. On one hand, you want to argue that Tater Tot is a lovely name for your dumpster kitten-chimera-thing, but on the other hand… he called her ‘our daughter’. As in your guys’s daughter. This can only mean one thing, and you clutch at your heart when you realize what’s happening.

They bonded.

It damn well might bring a tear to your eyes.

You make your way over to Lucifer, shove aside the papers on his desk, and perch your happy ass right on the hardwood.

With a bone deep sigh, Lucifer leans back in his chair. “Why do you always do that? My lap is available, you know.”

Tater Tot wakes up and lifts her heavy little sleep-addled head to meep at you.

You grin—hook your ankles around the armrests of his chair and pull him closer. “So… does this mean we’re keeping Tater Tot?”

“... Yes, we’re keeping Phobos. But that’s it, no more pets.”

“Okay, wait. Hear me out. What about a dog?”

“Absolutely not.”

Lucifer plucks another white hair from his RAD uniform and holds it up to the moonlight, scowling at the offensive thing. Why in all the realms did you have to find a white cat? The damned thing has only lived with you lot for two days and yet somehow its hair has already gotten over every article of black clothing in his wardrobe. It’s infuriating.

His gaze wanders across the courtyard to where you’re sitting pretty on Beel’s shoulders, clawing at his face with your fingertips and screaming in terror at how high up you are. He grins.

He can put up with the shedding fur, so long as he gets to see how your eyes shine like the stars when you see Phobos.

Still though. Why couldn’t you find a black kitten?

“Lucifer! There you are!”

Lucifer flicks the cat hair—lets the breeze catch it and float it away. Before he can even get a proper greeting in, Diavolo is pulling him in for a bone crushing hug.

“You’re here a bit later than usual. How’s life with the new kitten treating you?” Diavolo asks.

Lucifer steps out of the hug and eyes Diavolo warily. “Just fine, thank yo—wait. How do you know about the cat?”

Diavolo blinks innocently. “Surely you told me about her, didn’t you?”

No, he definitely did not—oh no.

Lucifer stares, slack jawed and horrified, because in that moment, he realizes something that he refuses to accept.

No.

No. It can’t be.

Diavolo would never do that to him. He would ne—oh fuck, he absolutely did.

Diavolo planted the cat. He knew that you would find her in that dumpster and take her home.

Lucifer has never known a betrayal quite like this. Diavolo says something about heading off to his office, but he doesn’t hear him over the rushing in his ears.

“Diavolo.”

The demon prince in question pauses in his escape to look back at Lucifer. “Yes, Lucifer?”

“Why did you have to pick a white cat?”

And oh, Diavolo laughs. A full belly laugh that quite honestly kills Lucifer. Just a little bit.

#gnocchiwrites #obey me shall we date #obey me #swd obey me #obey me lucifer #obey me drabble #obey me fanfic #obey me! shall we date?#tater tot's adventures

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vampiresmiled · 5 years

Note

✩ caviar

they have had one interaction thus far and like … no hcs, so – i am completely winging it here. if i’m wrong, it’s canon now.

DISAGREEMENTS

who is more likely to raise their voice? steven. kev has only raised her voice twice in her life. both those times in relation to somebody she loved dying, so . . . unless somebody’s boutta kick the bucket, it’s steven. who threatens to leave but never actually does? kevin. she’s very loyal, kay. she likes sticking shit out. who actually keeps their word and leaves? i guess steven. who trashes the house? only one of these persons have anger issues, take a wild guess. do either of them get physical? i hope not. kev might’ve forgiven abuse in the past, odette is quaking, but she’s not a punching-bag, steven ! touch her and i’ll whoop your ass through the screen. how often do they argue/disagree? not often, honestly. what is there to argue about. their one convo is going great thus far. who is the first to apologise? kevin. she just leaps at the opportunity to apologize. she apologizes when she hasn’t even done anything wrong. the girl is malfunctioning, let me tell you.

SEX

who is on top? listen, kev might’ve had sex with two people . . . but that doesn’t necessarily means she knows what she’s doing. so steven. who is on the bottom? kev, the perpetual bottom. who has the strangest desires? i dunno, steven ? kev is too vanilla for this shit. any kinks? lord if i knew.who’s dominant in bed? steven, i’m guessing. is head ever in the equation? the fact that this is a question is honestly sad. i hope there is ! i can’t think about kevin sucking dick, though, so please don’t. if so, who is better at performing it? steven. definitely.ever had sex in public? no, that’s illegal.who moans the most? k to the e to the v.who leaves the most marks? probably steven.who screams the loudest? literally is that not the same as the question above. moaning and screaming what’s the heckin difference. who is the more experienced of the two? you don’t gotta ask me that ‘cause you know.do they ‘fuck’ or ‘make love’? they’re both soft so take a gamble.rough or soft? see above.how long do they usually last? i wanna say whatever the national average. xoxois protection used? i hope so, i really do. kev’s smart enough for it. is steven? does it ever get boring? let’s be honest, she’s boring so probably.where is the strangest place they’d have sex? kev’s dreams.

FAMILY

do your muses plan on having children/or have children? i feel like steven wants kids but kevin definitely does not. she is a kid, why on earth would she want the responsibility of that when she can’t even take care of herself. if so, how many children do your muses want/have? steven probaby wants, like, 3 to replicate his own damn family. kev wants minus seventeen. who is the favorite parent? if we pretend that they will, in fact, end up with a little gremlin – steven. who is the authoritative parent? also steven. kev can’t even tell off a fly, let alone a snotty little brat. who is more likely to allow the children to have a day off school? steven, too. kev loves school, how dare her kids not.who lets the children indulge in sweets and junk food when the other isn’t around? kevin. she eats like a crap herself, and since steven works out . . . i’m guessing he does not. who turns up to extra curricular activities to support their children? also steven. kevin doesn’t understand sports. so unless it’s like a loud reading of mary shelly’s classics, then she’s not interested.who goes to parent teacher interviews? both. kevin is very non-threatening and sweet so teachers like her, steven asks the real questions and you know, is engaged and what not. best of both worlds. who changes the diapers? not kevin, that’s for sure. who gets up in the middle of the night to feed the baby? kevin doesn’t sleep well as it is, so are you really gonna make her do that ? jk, she’s already up so she will.who spends the most time with the children? steven, without question.who packs their lunch boxes? steven, yet again. who gives their children ‘the talk’? oof, definitely not kevin. she never got the talk herself so she wouldn’t even know where to begin.who cleans up after the kids? both. kevin isn’t really a neat-freak but when shit’s sticky . . . that’s gross. who worries the most? kevin. kevin worries about literally everything and now she’s gonna have to worry about this little poop goblin ? she’s gonna have a heart attack. who are the children more likely to learn their first swear word from? how is this a question when kev has cussed like thrice in her life. she’s more likely to learn swears from her kids.

AFFECTION

who likes to cuddle? kev’s not big on physical contact like in general, so . . . i mean, she does but if it’s a question who likes it most it’s probably steven. who is the little spoon? kev. she’s wittle and she’s fragile and she needs all the protection in the whole wide world. who gets naughty in the most inappropriate of places? my bet’s on steven. get it together, man. who struggles to keep their hands to themself? still steven. but you know, i get it. danielle rose russell is baby. how long can they cuddle until one becomes uncomfortable? they need frequent breaks. who gives the most kisses? the answer might surprise you, but – kev ! she likes smooching. who doesn’t. what is their favourite non-sexual activity? based on their current thread ? they enjoy helping drunks get into their ubers. where is their favourite place to cuddle? whoever’s bed kev is currently in. who is more likely to playfully grope the other? steven doesn’t seem the type but she’s less of the type to so i’m gonna go ahead and give it to stephen. how often do they get time to themselves? she’s got school and work and he’s got work and his underground fight club, their schedules clash it’s really sad.

SLEEPING

who snores? steven seems like a snorer. that’s why sienna doesn’t wanna live with him, actually. new head canon ! from me 2 you. if both do, who snores the loudest? i mean, if only one person snores – do the math.do they share a bed or sleep separately? they don’t live together, so . . . separately. if they sleep together, do they cozy up together or lay far apart? they start off together, end up not together. who talks in their sleep? kev, probably.what do they wear to bed? kev has straight up pj’s and steven seems like a t-shirt and boxers type of lad. are either of your muses insomniacs? kevin is fo cheezy. them night terrors really make it difficult to catch a snooze, you know. can sleeping pills be found by the bedside? hey, fun idea, have ronald prescribe this bitch some sleeping pills. steven step up your fucking game. that’s how you flirt, that’s how you woo a lady.do they wrap their limbs around each other or just lay side by side? side by side type bitches.who wakes up with bed hair? steven, probably. kev’s the type to sleep with a ponytail to avoid this exact outcome.who wakes up first? kevin ‘cos she can’t fucking sleep. PERIOD !who prepares breakfast in bed for the other? i hope steven ‘cos kev can’t cook for shit.what is their favourite sleeping position? spooning, perhapth. who hogs the sheets? steven that troll.do they set an alarm each night? yes, they do. even when they don’t have to because kev’s bound to be awake at the crack of dawn anyhow. can a television be found in their bedroom? nope.who has nightmares? if you’ve been paying attention you would know this.who has ridiculous dreams? steven. he has fun, wacky dreams and kev has a pure trauma fest in hers. who sprawls out and takes up most of the bed? steven, i was gonna say he’s a big boy but he really isn’t.who makes the bed? hopefully both ‘cos they got separate ones.what time is bed time? fuck if i know.any routines/rituals before bed? i bet steven’s a shower before bed lad and kev’s a shower in the morning gal . . . can i make it any more obvious. who’s the grumpiest when they wake up? steven, i bet.

WORK

who is the busiest? probably kevin ‘cos it’s like : her job, school, homework, friends, hamster maintenance . . . who rakes in the highest income? steven for sure.are any of your muses unemployed? nope. kev should be but by some miracle performed by god, she is not.who takes the most sick days? steven. kev can’t afford to have her boss dislike her. joseph please be kind to her. who is more likely to turn up late to work? kev. she just has this power to her that makes her stumble into everything and encounter disasters where there should be none.who sucks up to their boss? kevin. or well, she tries. what are their jobs? she’s a TA, he’s a bio teacher. who stresses the most? kev, we been knew. do your muses enjoy or despise their careers/occupations? they enjoy them. more steven than her. she’s really only there to get a degree. are your muses financially stable? i wanna say yes but . . . kev’s stable ‘cos the espinas are and i don’t know about steven. teacher’s don’t make that much.

HOME

who does the washing? kev doesn’t know how a washing machine works, so.who takes out the trash? kev can do that, she knows how that works.who does the ironing? nobody. they seem like a wrinkly pair. who does the cooking? steven, we been through this.who is more likely to burn the house down just trying? kevin.who is messier? kevin’s not messy she’s just scatter-brained, don’t bully her. who leaves the toilet roll empty? nobody, i hope.who leaves their dirty clothes on the floor? steven. kevin knows where the hamper is, she just doesn’t know where to take it.who forgets to flush the toilet? NOBODY. nasty.who is the prankster around the house? steven, he’s the fun dude. she’s the boring, uptight loser who should die.who loses the car keys when it comes time to go somewhere? kev. she’d lose herself if she could.who mows the lawn? steven.who answers the telephone? steven. kev has phone anxiety, that’s my self-insert right there.who does the vacuuming? steven. the vacuum is too large and dangerous for a child like herself.who does the groceries? both. she likes to ride on the cart.who takes the longest to shower? steven, probably. she’s not a fan of . . . personal hygiene ? i don’t know, she’s gets in and she gets out. she’s not pippa.who spends the most time in the bathroom? steven, yet again.

MISCELLANEOUS

is money a problem? [ miss i wanna be racially ambiguous vc ] yuh.how many cars do they own? one. she doesn’t know how to drive.do they own their home or do they rent? she doesn’t fucking live with him, damnit. do they live near the coast or deep in the countryside? no.do they live in the city or in the country? no 2.0.do they enjoy their surroundings? yeah, kev’s a fan of sheffield and i’m guessing so is he or he would ditch. maybe.what’s their song? i said the song playing, muffled outside the dam door, during this thread is baby, i love your way by will to power ‘cos it’s a 1989 bop and sheffield’s just late with everything, kay. what do they do when they’re away from each other? rejoice in the lack of added dorkery. where did they first meet? the party. the rager. the . . . rave. i don’t know people don’t invite me to drink.how did they first meet? he said he liked her shoelaces and she said thanks i got them from the president.who spends the most money when out shopping? steven. kev is cheap and also broke.who’s more likely to flash their assets? neither has got any, so.who finds it amusing when the other trips over? probably steven. at first. but you know she keeps doing it and then it becomes concerning.any mental issues? ha. yeah.who’s terrified of bugs? steven has a huge fear of ladybugs, it’s a thing you can google it.who kills the spiders around the house? kev carries them out. for steven its ON SIGHT.their favourite place? i dunno, hell where they both belong. who pays the bills? neither.do they have any fears for their future? kevin only fears for her future. who’s more likely to surprise the other with a fancy dinner? steven. what a good, good boy. sawyer helped him with it.who uses up all of the hot water? steven. he needs it to wash away his sins.who’s the tallest? steven. barely, she’s actually taller than she looks.who’s more likely to just randomly hop into the shower with the other? steven. kevin’s too much of a chickenshit to.who wanders around in their underwear? steven put some damn clothes on.who sings the loudest when singing along to the radio? sawyer. how long has she been back there. creepy.what do they tease each other about? i said check back again in 3-4 business days, thanks. who is more likely to cringe at the other’s fashion sense at times? steven. not ‘cos she’s got a shite one ( pippa dresses her, remember ) but because kevin doesn’t have enough fashion range to judge anybody. do they have mutual friends? nope.who crushed first? kevin. it’s happening as we speak. any alcohol or substance related problems? n…no. maybe i’m wrong. maybe steven’s a secret crackhead. who is more likely to stumble home, drunk, at 3am? steven. bloody and bruised too. please get another braincell. who swears the most? steven. obviously.

#all posts / ko.#starring steven / ko.#answered / ko.#soulsbled #ask

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