Honestly, Pat isn't sure how they got here. He's had a lot to drink, and they've been engaged in about four hours of what was Mario Kart war but turned into an epic Smash Bros. tournament, and somewhere along the way bets that required badges of honour were made, except instead of badges of honour somebody—okay, probably Pat—decided they were to be badges of shame, and somebody—again, probably Pat—decided the winner got to mark the loser so everybody could heckle him until it faded.

Honestly, Pat isn't sure how they got here. He's had a lot to drink, and they've been engaged in about four hours of what was Mario Kart war but turned into an epic Smash Bros. tournament, and somewhere along the way bets that required badges of honour were made, except instead of badges of honour somebody—okay, probably Pat—decided they were to be badges of shame, and somebody—again, probably Pat—decided the winner got to mark the loser so everybody could heckle him until it faded.

"I got you this." He sets a tiny box on the table between you and nudges it in your direction with psionics. You stare at it. It's the right size to hold a human-style commitment-designation ring, which you sometimes think would be a cool thing to have but as far as you know he's never been interested in. "For those times when I'm being a jackass and you need to snap me out of it." A little smile, a hint of the smug asslord creeping back in around the edges of the apologetic matesprit. "Or when you just want a shortcut to getting my attention."

Eddie briefly recalls some tentacle porn he’d watched just before Venom became a part of him. The copious vines holding her up and entering her every opening simultaneously. Fluids, from her or the monster who could tell, leaking from her mouth and pussy and ass. Oh, Eddie. Venom’s thought shook him, definitely not wanting to take their tongue out his mouth, How’d you keep this from us? Eddie had to be completely honest… he had absolutely no idea how he did either. ~ That good good tentacle fuckin' that Eddie so desperately wanted.

It looks like a seizure, Stiles falling down and twitching and writhing on the floor. His limbs are shaking, his body trembling, but afterwards Stiles always tells him it isn't a seizure. Derek isn't so sure. If it's not a seizure, what could it be?

It’s a game. It’s a game to see how loud he can be and not have anyone but Nicky hear him, a game to see what he can do without anyone but Nicky noticing.