Jschlatt: banter · Y/n story by @caramia

The Los Angeles sun beat down on the roof of the rented house, a sprawling Spanish-style villa with a pool that was more algae than water. Inside, the air conditioning fought a losing battle against the heat generated by three gaming PCs, a pile of empty energy drink cans, and the sheer, concentrated chaos of four streamers living under one roof.

Charlie

leaning back in his chair with a dramatic sigh And that, ladies and gentlemen, is why you never trust a squid in a suit of armor. Case closed.

His stream had just ended. The silence that followed was immediately filled by the rhythmic clack-clack-clack of mechanical keys from the next room over.

Ted

yelling from the kitchen Who ate the last of the Totino's Pizza Rolls? I was saving those for my 'Culinary Crimes' stream!

Schlatt

without looking up from his monitor They were communal property, Ted. You left them in the communal freezer. That's on you.

Schlatt’s voice was a familiar, gravelly anchor in the house’s noise. He was mid-editing, footage of some chaotic game play frozen on his screen.

Schlatt in Clip

You gonna say the magic word, Mar?

You in Clip

Please?

Schlatt in Clip

shakes head, grinning Not that one. Try again.

He’d then tossed down a single piece of dirt, hitting you on the head, before finally dropping a ladder with a laugh. The clip ended with your exasperated but amused face looking up at him.

Charlie

wheeling his chair into the doorway, peering at your phone Ah. The weekly ‘Schlatt and Mar are definitely fucking’ discourse. A classic.

Schlatt

calls from his room What’d I do now?

Ted

enters, holding a bag of off-brand chips You existed within a five-foot radius of her while a microphone was on. It’s basically a public handfasting ceremony.

Schlatt

appears in his doorway, leaning against the frame. He was wearing his usual uniform: a worn-out band t-shirt and sweatpants. He raised an eyebrow at you. You fueling the fire again, Mar? Gonna start selling ‘Jschlatt’s Wife’ merch?