It was a quiet evening—rexing, peaceful, the kind of rare stillness that settled over the Parker household like a warm bnket.

  The TV was off by mutual agreement. No music, no noise—just the steady patter of rain against the windows and the soft golden glow of the mps casting pools of light across the room.

  Thomas sat in his armchair, completely absorbed in a technical magazine about cars. Sarah lounged on the couch, feet propped comfortably on the coffee table, her nose buried in a rom-com novel.

  Nestled against her side was Emily - which, of course, meant Daniel too. Together, both were tucked in, curled up peacefully by their mother - a small, contented smile pying at their lips - clearly happy and at peace by their mother.

  For a moment, it was perfect.

  Sarah gnced down and couldn’t help but smile. For all the chaos they caused, for all the complicated, tangled mess their existence sometimes was - they were still her sweet children.

  Brilliant, infuriating, but undeniably hers - and like this—quiet, tucked up close—she truly felt that she could see it. Both of them - their souls, resting side by side, safe and content.

  Her heart ached a little, full to the brim with love, and something she couldn’t quite name. Perhaps - quiet wonder at just how much they had become hers? Theirs?

  A surge of maternal affection flooded her and she wrapped her arms around them gently, pressing a kiss to their head.

  The kids warbled happily—somewhere between a hum and a purr—as they burrowed in deeper.

  It was perfect - right up until Sarah decided to poke the bear.

  She didn’t know why - perhaps it was the peace? Or the quiet? Nevertheless, something about the moment awoke the inner prankster in her.

  After all, dear reader, Emily had to get those gremlin tendencies from somewhere, right?

  —

  It started innocently enough—with a single, calcuted tickle to Emily’s side.

  Emily warbled, squirming just a little before settling back in.

  Then came another, follow up tickle.

  This time, a grumble slipped out—impossible to tell if it belonged to Emily or Daniel though.

  A mischievous grin spread across Sarah’s face. Her own inner devil awoke in earnest, and with a gleam in her eye, she dropped her novel and attacked—tickling her children ruthlessly.

  Fsh - Fsh.

  Emily and Daniel switched in and out unpredictably, yelping and squirming as they fought to keep control.

  Fsh—Emily surfaced, gring at her mother, her eyes wide in indignation.

  “MOM—WOMAN - WHAT?! NO—STOP—”

  Sarah grinned - doubling down.

  “Oh, what’s wrong my darling children? Too ticklish?”

  Thomas gnced up from his magazine, shook his head and promptly returned to his magazine. “Moms and kids,” he muttered as he turned a page.

  Meanwhile, the tickling continued mercilessly.

  Emily or perhaps Daniel now - wriggled helplessly, feet kicking at the couch cushions, half-ughing, half-squealing—fully struggling.

  “STOP—MOM—WHY?! THIS IS ILLEGAL—”

  “You little imps! Teasing me, pranking me, turning my hair grey—” she growled pyfully, fingers dancing and digging in mercilessly - relentless in her maternal torture.

  The children shrieked, giggled, and thrashed—desperate to escape, though maybe - just enjoying it too?

  Unfortunately for Sarah, actions do, in fact, have consequences—because in her enthusiasm, her arm drifted a little too close to Emily’s face. Her mouth specifically.

  And in a moment of pure, childlike panic—

  CHOMP.

  Emily’s teeth sank down—right on her mother’s arm.

  —

  Time seemed to freeze - and then, just as suddenly, everything snapped back as Sarah yelped—loud and sharp—jerking her arm back, clutching it.

  The room now went dead silent.

  Outside, the rain kept drizzling, still pattering against the windows. Somewhere in the background, the low hiss of the AC filled the space, a faint tick of the clock, deep within the house, the hum of the fridge—normal house sounds carrying on like everything was normal.

  As though - nothing insane had literally just happened.

  As though Sarah’s world hadn’t literally ended.

  Thomas slowly looked up from his magazine, blinking. Finally, he cleared his throat.

  “Did she…did he…did they just…?”

  Sarah nodded once, still staring down at her arm like she couldn’t quite believe it either.

  On the couch, Emily was frozen, sprawled where Sarah had left her, eyes flickering as she and Daniel rapidly switched pces. A full-on argument happening somewhere inside, if anyone had to guess.

  Sarah took a slow breath, gncing down at her arm and gasped as she saw the faint outline of teeth marks.

  Not hard, not even deep— she had poked Emily harder than this - but there.

  Definitely there.

  Reality snapped back in earnest as she looked up sharply at her children, eyes narrowing.

  “EXCUSE ME?! EXCUSE YOU!?” she barked sharply at her kids. “My own flesh and blood?! Betrayed by my own flesh and blood?! One of whom I ADOPTED?”

  Thomas gnced from Sarah to the kids and back, deadpan - “…Did you just bite your mother?”

  Emily, still frozen, said nothing.

  Sarah’s eyes narrowed further, her gre unwavering. Without another word, she reached out and sharply twisted Emily’s ear—eliciting a yelp.

  “Emily,” she began, voice low.

  Scary.

  “Yes, Mother?” came the miserable squeak.

  “Did you just bite me?”

  Emily’s eyes darted left, then right, then back - “Umm…Define bite?”

  Sarah’s gre could’ve melted steel. Obsidian itself.

  “Biting.” she began tersely. “Chomping. Your teeth—compressing. On my arm. With the desire to cut, cerate or otherwise deliver bodily harm.”

  Emily opened her mouth—closed it - then, ever so carefully, she switched.

  Daniel surfaced, twisting out of his mother’s reach, sitting up a little straighter, hands raised in calm surrender. Like a person who’d just walked into court and realized he was the defendant.

  “I’d like to… request a wyer.”

  Sarah blinked. Once. Twice.

  “IT WAS YOU?!” she practically yelled, throwing her hands in the air in disbelief.

  Daniel coughed politely, looking away, one eye still on his mother. “Now, let’s not… jump to—”

  Fsh.

  Emily yanked the body back, eyes wide with fear- “NOPE—YOU WERE THERE TOO, BUDDY.”

  Fsh.

  Daniel again, voice cracking. “Emily—”

  Fsh.

  There was absolutely silence for a minute.

  Then just as suddenly—Emily rolled off the couch with a thump and grunt. She somehow grabbed a throw pillow off the couch, and screamed directly into it, kicking and drumming her feet for no discernible reason.

  As though for a moment she had lost all higher brain function.

  Thomas blinked, yet again gncing at his wife and then gesturing vaguely at the heap that was their children - “A bit of an overreaction, you two? With the… chomp? And… whatever that is?”

  —

  Sarah rubbed her temples, exhaling slowly like she was recalibrating her entire worldview.

  “So let me get this straight,” she said ftly. She pointed at Emily, who had cautiously peeked out from behind the pillow - “You bit me.”

  Emily shrank a little. “Technically… yes.”

  Sarah’s finger swung around and back at Emily - vaguely indicating Daniel - “And you bit me?”

  Fsh - Emily’s posture shifted—Daniel reemerged, visibly tense, gncing at the nearby window as though he was considering jumping out of it.

  “Technically… also yes?” he added softly, shyly.

  Sarah threw up her hands in sheer disbelief - “You bit me. Together?! Both of you?”

  Thomas completely lost it - cackling, wheezing, ughing all at once. “I can’t—I cannot believe this is my life,” he choked out, face buried in his hands.

  Sarah turned back to her children, still caught between outrage and existential confusion.

  “ARE YOU TODDLERS?!” she snapped. “Because this? This is full-on toddler nonsense!”

  Emily muttered from behind the pillow, “...we didn’t mean to…”

  “Didn’t mean to?!” Sarah yelled. “You bit your MOM! In stereo! NO IN SURROUND SOUND!”

  Thomas let out a long, defeated sigh, rubbing his temple - “Okay. Hold on. Let’s just—let’s actually talk about this.”

  Sarah didn’t even acknowledge him at first—just remained there, arms crossed, gring down at her children like she was debating whether smiting counted as parenting.

  “Sarah…” Thomas tried again, tone calm. “Look, kids bite sometimes. That’s not weird.”

  Emily—or maybe Daniel—turned to look at him slowly, curious, suspicious.

  Sarah turned too. “You’re saying this is normal?”

  Thomas nodded. “Yes. Small children bite all the time.”

  Sarah let out a long, exhausted sigh.

  “Oh God. This is like one of those toddler things, isn’t it? Like when they just… randomly scream and run headfirst into a wall for no reason.”

  She looked back at their children—both still on the floor, half-defensive, half-mortified, switching in and out.

  “But they are not toddlers,” she muttered. “And yet—here we are.”

  Thomas grinned. “Doesn’t matter, it is a small child thing and technically—Emily is still sort of a small child. And the dual soul thing, Danny’s soul having regressed... might be, uh, catching up? Calibrating? Adjusting? So, in conclusion—”

  Sarah gred at her children.

  “—this might be a normal part of child development. Well, as normal as anything can be in this situation. And therefore—”

  Emily and Danny both sat up, squinting at him, on high alert.

  “—the fact that our children, combined, have the mental processing of utter geniuses and still did this—”

  Danny groaned. “Oh no.”

  Emily, shaking her head. “Dad, please.”

  Thomas grinned even wider.

  “—means that deep down, neither of you are above toddler-tier instincts. You’re…well, dummies…and your mother is right to baby-talk you sometimes.”

  —

  Sarah turned toward him, a small smirk twitching at the edge of her lips—clearly tempted to take the bait and unleash some well-earned baby talk as revenge.

  Fsh.

  Daniel surfaced, sitting up stiffly - “It was a panic response.”

  Sarah blinked. “A panic response?”

  She sounded genuinely baffled now—like the sheer nonsense had finally broken through her maternal firewall.

  Fsh.

  Emily took over, somehow managing to climb back onto the couch.

  “Okay, look. You know I can’t handle tickling. And normally it’d be fine, but Danny also felt it. So when you attacked, we both freaked out. Together. Our emotions can compound on each other, get stuck in a loop.”

  Fsh.

  Daniel returned, rubbing his face. “I always thought it was fight or flight. Apparently… in our case, our mutual instinct is to also bite?”

  Thomas lost it.

  He smmed the armrest, doubling over with ughter as all eyes whipped toward him.

  “Dear?” Sarah asked, somewhere between concern and exasperation. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes, yes!” Thomas wheezed, rocking back and forth.

  “It’s just… our children—literal geniuses, probably the smallest people on the PLANET, two souls, two lifetimes of knowledge, more experience than any of us—share one body—and their very first joint instinct when tickled - TICKLED I MIGHT ADD - was VIOLENCE?! They literally chomped their mom?!”

  He howled harder, voice dissolving into helpless ughter as Sarah stared at him, entirely unimpressed.

  However, cracks began to show in her armor too. A smile began spreading, a chuckle slipped out. She shook her head, started ughing softly, and then, finally, gave in, joining her husband.

  “Oh God, this family is absurd,” Sarah muttered between breaths, gently swatting at her children - repeatedly - as they switched in and out, mock compining and giggling.

  “It wasn’t violence,” Daniel mumbled, still in control. “It was a survival mechanism.”

  Sarah, still ughing in disbelief, narrowed her eyes. “So you're telling me that when I tickle you—your collective instinct is to short-circuit and bite people?”

  Emily’s voice emerged, ft and miserable. “Apparently? We didn’t know either. Trust me, I’m also upset by this discovery.”

  Sarah rubbed her temples again - “I cannot believe I have two children, one body, and neither of you have impulse control.”

  Emily, grinning weakly: “Nature or nurture—what do you think?”

  Sarah exhaled slowly - her eyes fshing dangerously again.

  "Alright. Fine. You’re both idiots."

  Sarah’s voice dropped low—calm, dangerous, the kind of calm that made even thunderstorms second-guess themselves.

  "But if either of you ever bite me again—ever—I will end you."

  Emily froze. Daniel flickered in and out like a warning light.

  "I will ground you until the world runs out of time zones. I will make you write ‘I will not chomp my mother’ until every ink factory goes bankrupt. I will confiscate every single sock you own. I will revoke pillow privileges. Permanently. Do you understand?"

  She stepped closer, eyes fshing like divine judgment.

  "I will personally create a chore wheel so cruel it qualifies as a Geneva Convention viotion. I will assign you a new chore every time you blink. Blink. Fsh. Whatever."

  Emily blinked. Thomas snorted loudly.

  "And if that doesn’t work…" Sarah continued, voice dropping further, "...I’ll bring out a Flip-Flop. Don’t ask which one. Don’t ask when I bought one. You’ll know. It will just…be there. Just know that you won’t be able to sit down for a week after I’m done with you. I’ll make sure you feel it in this universe or the dreamscape."

  The room fell into stunned silence, punctuated occasionally by Thomas’s muffled ughter.

  Outside, the rain had finally slowed, repced by a cool breeze whistling against the windows.

  Fsh. Fsh. The body twitched, personalities flickering.

  Sarah’s gre softened, just a little.

  She hadn’t meant to scare them—not really.

  It was mostly a performance, but looking at them now, so small, so wide-eyed—even if it was one body—it tugged at her heart just the same.

  Then— Emily raised a tentative hand and ruined the moment as usual.

  “…Can we still have dessert?”

  Fsh.

  Daniel surfaced, deadpan - “Yeah, your moisturizer tasted… salty. Need to ..change the taste.”

  Thomas fell off the armchair ughing.

  Sarah blue-screened.