#golf shirts golf galaxy

[accio-victuuri]

saturday clownery ☕️

going from wyb’s choice of shirt in his wuzhen day 3 adventure ; and i think most of you have seen it being shared over at weibo. i didn’t wanna clown over it that much since bobo is known to gravitate towards statement shirts when he can. and he is someone that can easily get the latest hypebeast stuff. in this case, he is into golf so he takes a brand he is familiar with ( undefeated ) who has a collab w/ a known golf lifestyle brand.

this is some galaxy braining and cpn fiction on our end. because ZZ wore a shirt from off white that features a painting, so that reminds us of the print on wyb’s shirt. ZZ being the sweet s/o that he is noticed how much Bobo has been enjoying golf. I would imagine it’s not that hard for him to pick things out and gift it. but it would still have that ZZ touch. the reason why i love this is because the shirt itself, has it’s own story. and it’s linked to the SDC 3 appearance cpn. So i’m loving how it has come back to us and is now linked to a different incidence.

I’m also 👀 the statement:

“only the fanciest young men play golf”

It makes me think of that part in the 160 minute bonus content for the untamed. The translation on WeTV is “high grade” but I recall a fan translation that used the word “fancy” instead. Please tell me if someone remembers that too. LOL. The point is, these whole “i’m fancy” thing may be an inside joke between them. WYB as LWJ is so fancy with his Gusu Robes on. especially when he’s decked out in Chanel. or even with his streetwear clothes — he has that fancy air to him. So it’s plausible that ZZ picked it for him because it’s about golf and the fact that it reinforces the fact that wyb is a fancy young man. 💕

[verdemoun]

I have a few headcanons about the VDL gang’s fashion tastes in the modern era:

Kieran wears a lot of green, not only because he likes the colour but also because he felt scared to wear it back in 1899 because he felt that if he did, the gang would think he was still an O’Driscoll and kick him out or kill him.

Bill still wears pretty much the same thing and has plaid shirts in every colour except pink (because internalised homophobia). He yelled at someone in the street after they “looked at him funny” the first time he went out in public because he was wearing a leather duster coat.

Hosea rocks the classic suburban dad fit and looks great in it. Striped short-sleeve shirt, navy or beige slacks, brown loafers, the works. Also, he started wearing a string on his glasses because he kept losing them (they were on his head 90% of the time).

John wears those galaxy wolf t-shirts and everyone hates them. Once paired it with a leather jacket and Arthur laughed at him for at least 20 minutes.

Molly wears the most beautiful cottagecore outfits you’ve ever seen and Dutch cried himself to sleep when he saw her post a picture of it on social media.

Abigail wears pastel coloured knit sweaters over white button-ups with mom jeans and white trainers. She is the embodiment of “live laugh love”.

Ooooh i love these!!

Kieran would take ages to get used to the idea of wearing green and the color itself. He takes months for him to accept that the O'Driscolls are not in timewarp and strangers wearing green on the street are not a threat to his life. But especially once he starts exploring clothing that supports his sensory needs single favorite piece of clothing is a dark green festive blanket hoodie that says 'let's get baked'. The one day a month he isn't wearing it is when someone manages to wash it.

Bill's outfit is virtually unchanged except he relies on baseball caps to hide his bald spot because slouch hat is very distinct. Absolutely does not own pink but eventually graduates to a 'salmon' dress shirt for special occasions and will throw punches over anyone calling it pink.

Yes yes yes Hosea is either golf dad with the polos and loafers with dress socks or sweater weather old man he has the coziest ugly knit cardigans that make him look infinitely older.

This is rdr1 John so the whole wolf attack seems very far away and not something he thinks about often but someone absolutely bought him one as a joke (probably Arthur they are still children together) and he wears it unironically. But leather jacket Marston era!!

Molly makes everyone weep she is stunning. She also goes through a mid-life crisis and cuts her hair into the iconic bisexual bob Dutch very nearly becoming an incel in reinforcing gender roles 'that isn't very ladylike' to avoid admitting he very much fumbled a baddie.

Abigail looks like a studio ghibli mom like baggy pants the wearing plain soft tone generic t-shirts and looking so stunning doing it she breaks hearts everywhere. Sweetest supportive live laugh love mom but a shovel for hiding the bodies of her enemies would just as much in place as she merrily sweeps like a mother hen fussing over making sure the house is perfect now that she has her whole family back.

[1310ranchhouse]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: PETER MILLAR BLUE WHITE STRIPE POLO SHIRT SIZE XL SUMMER COMFORT.

[lolaslocker]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Galaxy by Harvic Polo Tee.

[dexters-bluemilkshakes]

i made "the 501st goes to Target", "the disaster lineage goes to Target", "The Clone Wars Squad ™ (+Satine) goes to Target", "The Rebels go to Target", "The Original Trilogy Gang Goes To Target", “The Droids of Star Wars go to Target (chaos ensues)”, “The 104th go to Target” and now I give you:

The 212th go to Target.

cody: he went to target to get a resistance band to workout with. everyone else just tagged along and he was too tired to say anything.

after he grabbed the thing he came for, he made the common mistake of not leaving immediately and of course was sucked into the dangerous temptation of ✨browsing✨. while walking around in the store, he passed the hair product aisle. He didn’t need anything, his curls were healthy as ever, but he did see that pomade stuff obi wan was obsessed with, and bought that for him (obi wan paid him back later. he was so insistent that he doesn’t use the hair product that cody offered to return it and obi wan shouted “NO”. cody: 👁👄👁).

he looked around for a wristlet keychain in hopes to show the jedi council that they should make the jedi attach them to their lightsaber, to no avail.

he didn’t buy much else, other than a personal pizza at the café, and set out looking for his brothers to see if they were ready to go.

he genuinely shouldn’t have been surprised to see them all huddled around a cart full of snacks they picked out. somehow, they managed to pool enough money to buy 163.48 credits worth of soda, candy, and snacks. cody said nothing. his brothers deserved it.

boil: waxer put boil in charge of drinks, and waxer was in charge of snacks. they had just came back from a long campaign and there was a lot of cars games in the barracks at night. he made a few credits, which he was excited to spend.

waxer had a list written down of everyone’s favorite snacks, which he told boil he had to adhere to. boil would have preferred to just get what he wanted and then share, but waxer was insistent, so he relented.

a lot of people liked cookies and blue milkshakes. he was able to buy the cookies but just got blue ice cream for those who wanted to make the milkshakes themselves.

when he and waxer met up, they put everything into one big basket. they called over gregor and and they all pooled their money together and justttt managed to cover the cost.

the snacks lasted them two weeks as a battalion. boil did such a good job picking everything out that he was officially Snack Grabber from then on out.

also he 100% knew when gregor was hiding in the racks of clothing so he would aggressively sort through shirts on the other side and pretend to look for something while knowing he was smacking gregor with the shirts as he moved them.

waxer: he bought an ungodly amount of coffee. but it’s okay. at least it wasn’t all for him (this time).

while boil may think it’s dumb, waxer had a color coded list that was both alphabetically and categorically organized to be easy to find everyone’s snack preferences. he had a separate one for drinks.

before actually acquiring the drinks, waxer did some math on the back of a receipt with a space golf pencil to figure out exactly how many credits he would need to cover the cost of drinks, down to the decimal point. this way, boil could use the rest of the money to buy as many snacks as possible.

he also brought the exact amount needed to buy a box of wax strips to keep his head nice and smooth.

lastly, he bought a sticker mustache in case he ever needed to bear a passing resemblance of boil. for mission (*cough* pranking cody *cough*) purposes, of course.

gregor: he’s the type of guy to hide in the clothing racks and jump out and scare people. luckily for the galaxy, the only customers in the store at the time were his brothers. unluckily for his brothers, gregor did not play fair even for family. and even more unluckily for gregor, his brothers are soldiers. they have fast reflexes. and he got pushed backwards into the clothing rack. every. single. time.

he also liked ease dropping on the conversations of the employees passing by (he didn’t scare them cause he didn’t want to get kicked out). he went back to the barracks with so much gossip on bethany and zilde, and he has no idea who they ARE.

he was then responsible for weekly installments of bethany and zilde and would keep making up the story.

when gregor disappeared, someone else continued the story.

it was never the same

+bonus, they bring numa: (yes i’m well aware there is no way this could ever be canon but indulge me. this is my return to the target series after months. let me have my fun.)

so numa is absolutely the type of kid to try and climb into the giant ball basket thing. boil would say no and waxer would nod his head in agreement, but as soon as boil turned away, he’d lift up numa and put her in. when boil turned back around, he looked for numa in confusion. waxer tried to feign ignorance even as numa fell out of the pit through the bars.

after that, boil was very much on no-nonsense duty. he put numa in the seat part of the cart and pushed her around while waxer relayed the grocery list to him. numa was happy to sit and look around.

at the end of the day, they went to the starbucks and got her a hot chocolate and a rice krispy treat.

when numa was much older, and only had memories to smile upon, she found the taste of rice krispies too sweet to eat anymore.

[kythed]

haikyuu!! + where they take you on your first date

yes, i have a soft spot for akaashi, how could you tell?

karasuno

sugawara koushi: one of those clay painting places. he tries to paint your face on a mug-- it ends up looking like a purposefully offensive caricature, but you appreciate the gesture.

azumane asahi: takes you thrifting because he thought it would be aesthetic. the only clothing you two buy is a set of XXL galaxy cat t-shirts.

nishinoya yuu: chuck-e-cheese.

hinata shouyo: an action movie. he won’t stop chattering and making side comments the entire time, but it’s kinda cute. tries to pull the classic yawn-over-the-shoulder move and accidentally spills his popcorn on your lap.

kageyama tobio: invites you to watch one of his volleyball games. it’s not your ideal first date, but the rare smile he flashes you when his team wins makes up for it. he is incredibly sweaty when you go out to eat afterwards, though.

sawamura daichi: a bowling alley. he’s a shit bowler but pretends to be an expert just so he can get close and “teach” you the proper form. he also really likes the overly greasy bowling alley pizza for some reason.

tanaka ryunosuke: italian restaurant. he pronounces gnocchi like “guh-no-chee” and pitches a fit when they don’t offer bottomless breadsticks like olive garden does. before leaving, you slip the poor waitress an extra five for the inconvenience.

yamaguchi tadashi: a butterfly garden. coincidentally finds out he has a deathly phobia of flying insects that same day. you don’t end up staying very long.

tsukishima kei: a natural history museum, but not in a cute way-- you just tail him for three hours while he silently stares at fossils and refuses to hold your hand.

nekoma

kozume kenma: a duck pond near his house. he thought it’d be nice to feed them stale bread, but it turns out there are only very large, very angry geese there. you watch in horror as the largest one chases him around the block.

haiba lev: an amusement park. brags that he never gets sick on roller coasters before vomiting on your favorite sneakers after the first ride. it’s up to you whether or not he gets a second date.

kuroo tetsurou: finesses his way into the country club without paying. you two obnoxiously cannonball into the pool and eat too many free nuts until the concierge chases you out.

yaku morisuke: the skate park. he doesn’t actually know how to skate so he sits on the board and hangs on for dear life while you push him down the ramp as hard as you can. you can honestly say it’s one of the best first dates you’ve ever been on.

inuoka sou: ikea, mostly to purchase matching ikea bucket hats. also forces you to take a picture of him in the kitchen section for flexing purposes.

shiratorizawa

ushijima wakatoshi: a book store. he’s not much of a reader but he thinks the way you open every book just to inhale that new book scent is funny. buys you five hardcovers and refuses to be paid back.

tendou satori: an open house for a multi-million dollar villa. you pretend to be wealthy newlyweds and eat the complimentary charcuterie while chatting up a real estate agent. halfway through the conversation he switches to a british accent and blows your cover.

semi eita: takes you to a ballroom dancing class in the park. all the other students are elderly couples that smile warmly and “aww” when he dips you. he may or may not drop you on purpose at some point.

tsutomu goshiki: the animal shelter. he’s allergic to dogs and has a runny nose the entire time but muscles through because he likes how excited you get to pet them.

shirabu kenjirou: mini-golfing, but he swings like it’s regular golf. ends up launching a ball into one of the little windmills’ blades and breaking it. he subsequently gets banned for life so you win by default.

aoba johsai

oikawa tooru: a cafe. orders straight black coffee to prove his maturity. you can see him grimace with every bitter swallow so you mercifully trade your maple latte.

iwaizumi hajime: the beach. is it just so he can show off his glorious, glorious pecs? maybe. but you’re not complaining.

hanamaki takahiro: costco. you play hide and seek in between the aisles and get free samples. he accidentally startles a small child into tears after lodging himself in between two bags of rice to hide.

matsukawa issei: hiking. you two get lost on the way down and end up having to call the forest service to get rescued by rangers.

kunimi akira: the backseat of his car (it’s an SUV).

inarizaki

miya atsumu: an arcade. does that thing with the ticket wheel where he lifts up the cover and stops it on the 1000 ticket slot. is also surprisingly adept at skee-ball.

miya osamu: tells you to get dressed for a fancy dinner. when he picks you up you find out “fancy dinner” in osamu language means two pbj’s on a picnic blanket in the park and a game of cards.

kita shinsuke: the planetarium. he’s fascinated with the stars and pays more attention to them than he does to you, but it’s cute how wide his eyes get when the entire milky way comes into view.

suna rintarou: a wendy’s drive-thru, and you’re not even mad about it— he somehow manages to make a frosty and fries seem classy.

fukurodani

akaashi keiji: the aquarium. he has an endearing fixation on the hermit crabs and unsuccessfully tries to hide his excitement when the tour guide lets him hold one on his palm. you now have a picture of him smiling at the crab as your lock screen.

bokuto koutarou: a hedge maze. it takes you two hours to escape, and you only manage to get out because he kicks a hole in one of the hedges and crawls through.

konoha akinori: the farmer’s market. purposely buys way too many bananas as an excuse for asking you over tomorrow to help him make banana bread.

date tech

futakuchi kenji: tries to seem sophisticated by taking you to see a foreign film. it ends up being so raunchy that he can’t even look you in the eye when the credits roll.

koganegawa kanji: axe throwing. is incredibly embarrassed when you manage to hit the target and he can’t. claims he’s just “going easy” on you but his scowl says otherwise.

aone takanobu: tandem bike riding. his greek god quads provide more than enough horsepower, so you can just sit back and relax.

other

terushima yuuji: a lookout. it’s too cloudy to see the city lights so you have a contest to see who can spit the farthest over the edge.

sakusa kiyoomi: invites you over for dinner and a puzzle-- he’s more comfortable in his own home. the atmosphere is almost relaxing, and dare I say… romantic? he does get frustrated when you keep trying to fit edge pieces in the center, though.

[lady-in-the-lair]

Red M&Ms

Red M&Ms are aphrodisiacs for symbiotes…and their hosts. But this early in their relationship, it’s just plain awkward.

Symbrock - E - 8k - featuring fem!Eddie which I know is a tough sell but it’s surprisingly fun to write! Haven’t been able to get into male Eddie smut bu this just flowed.

_______

The red M&Ms are a mistake.

Not that either of them realize that at first.

It’s about three months after the rocket explosion and they’ve gone through Hershey’s bars, Belgian chocolates, and San Francisco’s own Ghirardelli’s before Mrs. Chen suggests M&Ms as an economical option after Venom rejected the brick of baking chocolate that tastes like wax.

Mrs. Chen slips the giant bag of M&Ms into their bag during their weekly grocery run, but it takes a day or two for Eddie to fish it out of the bag and put it in the cabinet. Venom is learning that Eddie is not great at getting things done in a timely manner or putting away groceries.

Venom usually unloads the bags, though it forgot to put away the groceries this time, getting distracted by a chocolate-making documentary on PBS. But generally it’s easier for it to handle the groceries, thanks to all the tentacles. Besides, it’s better than having to keep buying new bottles of Nestle after they spoil. Venom has learned that Koko Krunch tastes even better when swimming in chocolate milk and that the milk tastes best when not curdled into brown cottage cheese.

It takes the M&Ms from the cabinet and sets it on Eddie's lap as they relax on the couch. It's about 10 pm, a warm, quiet night after a busy day.

“Thanks, buddy.” Eddie reaches down into the M&M bag. She doesn’t care much for candy, but Venom has gathered she’ll pretty much eat anything within arm’s reach.

Not heads, though. Heads she has to be cajoled into eating despite how delicious they are, but then Eddie isn't the most logical being in the galaxy. Venom finds this endearing, like most things about its host.

Venom glances over at her as she flips channels.

She’s wearing what even an alien symbiote can tell is a ratty old rust-colored bathrobe over the Golden Gate Bridge T-shirt that she’s as likely to sleep in as go shopping in and plaid pajama bottoms. The pajamas have mustard stains despite the fact that she wasn’t wearing them the only time they’ve had mustard and the bathrobe hem is beginning to unravel.

A perfect human, really.

Settling on a football game, Eddie puts her feet up on the coffee table and pops the top of her beer. Venom hates the taste of beer, but it had shoplifted her a beer cozy embroidered with little rockets on it before it had learned that Shoplifting Is Bad Yes Even If The Chocolate Is On Sale Anyway and is pleased to see her using it.

Venom scoops out a handful—tentacleful?—of candy and begins to sort them by color. Eddie complains about this tendency all the time, but it knows she appreciates how Venom sorts her wardrobe by its various shades of gray and makes sure the food in the fridge is sorted by shape, color, and container size.

The rest of the apartment is mostly a mess, of course, but thanks to Venom, at least Eddie’s sock drawer would “put Jon Arbuckle to shame,” whoever that is. (It’s more of a drawer stuffed with underwear and socks, but dang if it isn’t neat.)

Venom likes the mess. It’s far cozier than Carlton Drake’s antiseptic lab.

Venom watches the game closely as it sorts the M&Ms. It considers rooting around in Eddie’s memories to get the basic rules of the game, but for the most part it’s too much bother to go digging through forty years of memory to extract little tidbits.

Instead it’s been watching YouTube videos online while Eddie sleeps. It got sucked into the worlds of tennis, golf, and figure skating only to learn that Eddie couldn’t care less about those sports. Next on its list are football, hockey, and basketball, which Eddie claims are far superior.

It doesn’t quite get the appeal of these sports—at least figure skating is fun to watch, though it does enjoy watching hockey players crash into walls—but Eddie likes them, so Venom will learn to as well.

Eddie flips through the week’s mail during a commercial involving a woman who only needs a new mop to turn her life around.

(Venom makes a mental note to order a Turbo Swisher 2.0 for Eddie, even though their life together is already perfect.)

“Uh, what’s this?” Eddie holds up an issue of Chocoholics Monthly. “ ‘Mrs. Venom Brock’? Did you order this? 'Mrs.'? Is this why the mailman congratulated me yesterday?”

“Thought would be less suspicious than just ‘Venom Brock,’ and you threw a fit when I ordered all that chocolate-flavored toothpaste on your Amazon account.”

Eddie laughs. Venom loves the way her laugh crinkles her forehead and deepens the lines around her eyes and mouth. She’s not wearing any makeup, and the bags under her eyes are a particularly bewitching shade of purple after a long week spent chasing down a particularly involved story. “That was two hundred dollars’ worth of toothpaste.”

“Well worth it.”

“It’s not meant to be squirted directly in your mouth, V.”

“It’s delicious!”

Eddie sighs. “Forget it. But ‘Mrs. Brock’? Really?”

“Is that not the name of a partner?”

“Um…a different kind of partner than you mean…Just send it to me next time, okay?”

Venom nods. “I’ll figure out how to change the account.”

“Wait a minute—” Eddie sits up straighter. “You made your own Amazon account? Did you open a credit card?”

“Of course not, Eddie.”

“So you didn’t fish one of those credit card mailers out of the trash?”

“Of course not!”

“Dammit, Venom, my credit is bad enough as it is—”

It changes the subject. “Do we have to watch football?”

Eddie sighs. "Any other suggestions? I’m not watching another three-hour documentary about plankton again.”

Venom is a little miffed. It didn’t have documentaries on its home planet, but if it did it was certain it would let Eddie watch as many as needed to learn about her new home, not just the ones about motorcycles or WWI or the civil rights movement. “Fine. Documentary on how potatoes grow, then.”

“If we’re going to watch a documentary, then let’s pick a History Channel one or sharks or—”

“ Murder She Wrote!”

“That’s not a docu—okay. Can we at least watch Frasier if you want an old show?”

“I don’t like Frasier.”

Eddie tosses a red M&M in her mouth. “That’s just because you’re still learning Earth humor. It’s a great show.”

“I want to eat Martin’s brains.”

“Everyone does, buddy. We’ll try the road warrior RV episode again.”

In the end they settle on Golden Girls as being halfway between Murder She Wrote and Frasier.

They’re watching Sophia viciously eviscerate Rose in a way that the sadistic studio audience finds charming when Venom feels a strange tingle coming from Eddie. She’s shifting slightly on the leather couch, tapping her knee with a nail she’s bitten down to the quick as job after job fell through. The black paint is beginning to chip, and Venom wonders if Eddie will let it paint them as a way to practice its fine-motor skills.

Another strange tingle, another awkward little shift.

Venom looks up from its piles of M&Ms. It’s been eating one at a time of each color, red then green then yellow then brown then blue then red again.

The red ones taste…odd.

“Something strange in these M&Ms, Eddie.”

Eddie sets the bag in her lap. Her heart is beating way too fast, strange new hormones flowing through her veins, but her voice is normal. “Like, spoiled? These things would survive a nuclear apocalypse.”

“Some…chemical.”

Eddie straightens up, M&M bag jostling against her inner thigh. “Like, poison?”

“Not…poison.” Venom lifts its head from where it had been resting on the couch, tendrils twining almost coyly—or is it confusedly?—it isn’t sure itself—over the leather cushions. “Something…else that…affects the body. You feel…different.”

“You know the green M&M thing is a myth,” Eddie jokes even as her heart beats even faster. “They’re not really aphrodisiacs.”

“An…”

“Like, to increase your, uh, sex drive. You know what that is, right? Because, well, I’m not explaining it.”

Venom is floating in front of her now, a glistening black face with rows of overlapping fangs. It rummages briefly through Eddie’s memories, trying to pull up a frame of reference, but sex is not something taking up much space in Eddie’s mind and it’s too much effort to cherry pick memories.

“Yes, but it is not a thing among my people,” it says finally. “We reproduce asexually.”

“Ah, well, we don’t. Would be cool, though, to have a baby growing out of your arm or whatever.” She shifts again, as if trying to distract herself from something, though Venom isn’t sure what. “Would save a lot of—what are you doing?!”

“Just getting more chocolate.” Venom has dipped a tendril inside the M&M bag on Eddie’s lap. The bag moves slightly against Eddie’s crotch, and another surge of that strange hormone makes her heart thud erratically against her ribs.

The symbiote fishes out the other colors one by one, carefully tasting each, leaving one tendril inside the bag without knowing why. It has a sudden desire to wrap Eddie in its tentacles, to cover her its biomass in an entirely different way than their usual I Am Venom form, to grip her tightly and her envelop her, and it’s almost alarmed.

Surely it doesn’t want to hurt Eddie—

No. Just…

Just something.

Eddie might know, but Venom suddenly understands what shyness means for the first time.

“Only the red tastes funny, Eddie.” Venom hesitates, drifting closer to Eddie, the tendril inside the bag oozing over the edge to rest on Eddie’s leg. “Very funny.” Without thinking it wraps its tendril around Eddie’s thigh, squeezing slightly. It’s more muscular than the other female hosts it had in the lab, with a delightfully squishy layer of cushioning fat.

It snakes a thin tendril out of her bicep and begins to brush the delicate skin inside her elbow. It’s not sure why, but it likes the pleasurable sensation it produces and wonders what it would be like to stroke the inside of the knee. Or higher up the leg—

Eddie swallows hard and picks the tendril up off her leg, ignoring the one under her sleeve. The flesh between her legs is tingling, almost throbbing, coming alive in a way Venom hopes isn’t dangerous. Venom slides another tendril over her other elbow, gently stroking the soft inner skin, trying to calm Eddie's heart.

“I’m going to the bathroom," says Eddie. Soon after bonding, they had reached an agreement: Venom remains outside the bathroom at all times, giving Eddie at least some semblance of privacy.

But she hasn’t risen and she hasn’t let go of the tendril, as if wanting the same contact Venom finds itself suddenly craving. It thickens the tendril in her hand into a tentacle, relishing the feel of her palm around its glistening black biomass.

“Know you don’t have to go to the bathroom, Eddie. But you feel…” It gropes for the right word. “… warm…”

She starts to get up and the tentacle lengthens, wrapping around her wrist. A second tentacle forms around her other wrist, forcing her hand down to the couch.

“Stay.”

Eddie’s pulse is fluttering like mad under the two thin tendrils still touching the thin skin on her inner elbows, blood racing through her veins. Nice clear veins, all plaque and cholesterol scraped clear during the symbiote’s version of housekeeping.

“Let go.”

Venom leans closer to Eddie, close enough to feel her breath ghosting over its tongue. “That really what you want, Eddie?”

It’s not sure what it wants, except it’s not for Eddie to lock herself in the bathroom. It wants her here, here with it. Closer, if anything. Under it, inside it, around it, wrapped snugly in its tentacles, heart pounding against its slick coils as it—as it—

Not what it wants, is it? It has no frame of reference for anything like this, just a echo of Eddie’s desires.

“What do you want, Eddie?” it repeats.

Eddie swallows hard. “For you to stop ordering things online using bogus credit cards.”

The tentacles on her wrists tighten. “Very funny, Eddie. Say it.”

“ ‘It.’ ”

Venom pushes her on her back, laughing despite itself. “Take this seriously, Eddie.”

Eddie takes a deep breath, rocking her hips slightly, almost instinctively. “Let me up, V. I need to go brush my teeth—”

“You’re shaking all over, Eddie. Need to make sure you’re okay.” A tendril reaches down to brush her cheek as it speaks, relishing the warmth of her skin. The Klyntar have no innate sense of aesthetics, but Venom has known Eddie is the most beautiful woman in the world from the moment it laid eyes on her in Drake’s lab.

The three-day-old mascara smudged under her lower lashes because she doesn’t use makeup remover. The way she can open a jar of pickles with a simple finger-twiddle even without Venom’s help. The large nose, like a well-carved potato. Her ears, like the handles of those Grecian vases at the historical society. Her plush pink lips, like twin bee stings.

Venom is particularly proud of its description of her lips. “Pure poetry,” Eddie had called it once when Venom had said it aloud, and Eddie sculpted words for a living.

“Eddie?”

It’s getting hard for Eddie to get the words out, and Venom is getting worried. “I’m okay!”

“Promise?”

“I promise!”

The tentacles retract. “Fine.”

Eddie rises and strips off her bathrobe, heading for the bathroom, Venom’s floating head following her. Venom catches a glimpse of itself in the dark window: glistening black tendrils, gleaming fangs, opalescent eyes…

The sight of the symbiote seems to do something to Eddie, and she makes an odd sound in the back of her throat and stops to rest one hand on the metal bookshelves in front of her bed.

“Hungry, Eddie?”

Eddie bites her lip so hard it bleeds. “No.”

“Hold still, Eddie.” Venom heals her cut lip, a tendril brushing the plump pink skin as it knits the torn skin from within. “Careful…”

Eddie makes another sound at the touch of the tendril. A definite moan this time.

Probably the pain…Venom should have shut off her pain receptors, something she’d learned to do when Eddie cooks instead of buying takeout. Which is not often, but the symbiote has long since learned that Eddie is prone to cutting or burning herself by mistake. While using a cheap Bic razor to perform a bizarre, pointless human ritual soon after their bonding, Eddie had cut her legs shaving, teaching Venom the last few curse words it hadn’t yet learned. Then she found her electric razor and now gives her legs a perfunctory going-over every few weeks.

Venom swipes another tendril over the healed lips, wiping away the last of the blood.

“Thank you.” Eddie’s voice is strained.

“You are welcome. But Eddie, you feel…” Venom fuses her bare feet to the hardwood, a single tentacle snaking out around her throat. Eddie’s throbbing pulse radiates into the tentacle, and Eddie can feel it through her bond with Venom, the sensation making her heart go even faster. She’s definitely trembling now, something hot gathering inside her, along with a confusing, tantalizing sense of desperation. “Feel hungry, Eddie.” It's the only thing it can think of to describe the new sensations.

“Let me go—”

A tentacle emerges from her chest and shoves her back onto the bed so hard she bounces backwards into the headboard.

“What the fu—”

“Will take care of you, Eddie,” says Venom, apologetically maneuvering her into a more comfortable position and making sure her head isn’t hurt, and at those words Eddie’s lips part, her cheeks flaming with that strange, desperate internal heat. “Take care of us.”

“What—what do you mean—”

“Will make you eat! Bring you a midnight snack in bed. Oreos?”

“Wait!” Eddie grabs at one of Venom’s glossy black neck stalks, then quickly lets go. She’s on her back, and Venom notices…it’s strange, but her nipples are hard, as if it’s cold in the house. “It’s not—no food in bed, okay?”

“Double-stuffed chocolate—”

“We have enough roaches as it is, and I’m not hungry.”

Frustration makes Venom rear up toward the ceiling, smashing through the thin plaster and sending a rain of white powder down beside the bed. “Then—”

Eddie digs the heels of her palms into her eyes. “Just—never mind.”

“Can tell me anything, Eddie. Can sense you…want…need… something.”

Eddie closes her eyes, hands balled into fists as if trying to maintain control of something. “It’ll pass. I’m just—warm.”

Venom slides a tendril under Eddie’s T-shirt and slips it up over Eddie’s head before she can stop it, tossing it into the heap of laundry next to the bed.

“Why—”

“Hot, Eddie!”

Eddie folds her arms over her bare breasts, face bright pink. Venom’s not sure why. Eddie makes it wait outside the bathroom while she showers, true, but she’s never had a problem with it watching her get dressed so long as it stays inside her body and doesn’t float around staring at her—

Is that what the problem is?

Clothes in general are a newish concept to Venom. Either no other conquered planet had them before or Venom hadn’t been among those who had been allowed to bond with hosts.

Eddie draws in a deep breath, her breasts pressing up against her tattooed forearm as her ribcage expands. There’s a pair of comedy/tragedy masks tattooed over one breast, a raven over the other. “Maybe—turn on the air next time. Or open a window.”

“Air?”

“The fan,” Eddie corrects herself. “Once I sell my story I’ll buy a window A/C…” She trails off without seeming to realize it, staring at Venom’s tongue as it flicks snakelike between its jagged rows of overlapping teeth.

“Fan’s broken. And you’re still hot…” Venom slides a tendril into the stretched-out waistband of her pajama bottoms, tugging it down slightly.

Eddie grabs at the pajamas with both hands. “Stop that!”

Venom leans forward, tilting its head at the sight of her exposed breasts, and slowly slides a tentacle up over her stomach, brushing the curve of a breast with a tendril. The sight of the inky black tendril against pale tattooed skin is mesmerizing, the skin on her breast soft, each round swell of flesh heavy and warm and squishy. It likes how they’re spread out over her chest, just the nipple sticking up, the surrounding flesh jiggling slightly against the tendril.

Eddie moves her hips slightly. “Venom…”

It slides its tentacle around her right breast. Forming a hand, claws pressing against the full flesh. Holding it.

She lets it.

“Eddie…”

“You’re…” She swallows hard, taking a deep breath, breast shifting against Venom’s hand. The nipple brushes against a claw, a surprisingly pleasurable sensation, and something pulses inside her. “You’re not yourself.”

“I think…I think there was something in the red M&Ms…some…chemical affecting you, and that affects me…”

“Affects you how?...What…what do you want?”

“Don’t know. Never felt like…” It brushes the nipple with an experimental tendril as a second claw cups her other breast, sending a smooth black tendril out to slide over the hard pink nub. Eddie reaches up and grabs Venom’s face, dragging her fingers into the neck stalks, clamping down hard as it slides a tentacle over her other breast, playing with both at once, fascinated by the sensations produced by such a small thing.

Eddie pulls its face down, her breath hot on the glistening black surface. “It’s just the M&Ms,” she manages to get out. She presses her forehead to the smooth curve between its eyes, hand running up and down its neck, one knee up, eyes closed. “I don’t normally—even with Anne it took over a year—you’re my friend, I don’t—I’m just…built different. I…”

“I understand, Eddie. Just the M&Ms. But best…have someone to help you with whatever this is. Make you better…” It brushes the hair out of her eyes and she leans into its touch. “Give you your medicine.”

Eddie opens her eyes long enough to snort. “Please don’t put it that way. That’s just bad writing.”

“….Take care of you, Eddie.”

Eddie digs the heels of her palms into her eyes, covering her face. “Just this once,” she says, almost mumbles. “And then we never speak of it again.”

Venom feels a flash of something its learned to identify as hurt, but it’s immediately swallowed up by what it now realizes is Eddie’s lust. “Alright, Eddie,” it says, still stroking her breasts. “What do you want me to do?”

Eddie’s face is already pink, but now it turns from strawberry jam to the color of the expired pomegranate juice Mrs. Chen once gave them for free. “I—just—just do what—just do whatever you, uh…”

Venom is seized by a confusing mixture of wanting to be physically closer to Eddie and wanting to go lock itself in the bathroom till this all passes. “I don’t know what…”

“Okay, this isn’t normally a good way to do things, but—I’ll tell you if I want you to stop, okay?”

Venom nods, the urge to devour Eddie overpowering the urge to turn and flee. It feels everything she does: the frantic desire for more friction, the almost painful throbbing between her legs, the prickly pink warmth spreading over her upper chest and neck and face like a rash.

Venom slides the tentacle down again, tugging at the pajama bottoms, sliding them and Eddie’s high-waisted Hanes off and tossing them after the T-shirt.

Eddie opens her eyes. The lights are off but there’s more than enough light to see by. She yanks the blanket over her middle, half-covering herself and looking away.

Venom snakes a tendril up, touches Eddie’s cheek. It’s hot to the touch. “Seen you naked before, Eddie.”

Eddie winces, though Venom’s not sure why. “Not like this.”

“Beautiful, Eddie.” It slides a tentacle down over her chest, tracing the curves of her soft belly, down under the blanket to where her full thighs are pressed tightly together. It eases her legs apart, curious as to what she’s protecting.

A single tentacle glides over the pulsing heat between her legs and Eddie twitches almost spasmodically. Venom twines tentacles around her wrists, looping them over the bed frame, then doing the same with her ankles when she draws her knees closed again.

The throbbing intensifies as the tentacles on her wrists half immobilize her. Venom knows it’s not hurting her, it can feel what she feels, but it still hesitates.

“Okay, Eddie?”

Eddie yanks at the tentacles. “Yes, yes—stop talking! Just—just do something!”

Venom grins, stopping the rhythmic nipple brushings so that Eddie twists into its talons, desperate for renewed friction. “Do what, Eddie?”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake—just do something else with your tongue, touch me, or let me go and let me touch myself!”

Venom tilts its head, running a tendril up and down where its host’s legs meet the fleshy mound between Eddie’s legs, feeling the heat radiate from the slick wetness just inches away. It touches the tip of tendril to the center of each nipple with just enough pressure to set Eddie off, leaving them there so that Eddie has to twist to get the friction she craves. “Touch yourself, Eddie?”

Eddie tugs at the tendrils. Her hair is sticking to her face, eyes wild. “Yes, yes, I used to do that before you came along—an electric toothbrush, anyway—”

“So that’s what that’s doing in that drawer.”

“Yes, yes! Just—please, V—”

“What did you used to do, Eddie?” Venom grins again. It has no heart to pound, but it’s filled with a strange buzzing, awash with Eddie’s pleasure and anticipation, and it wants nothing more than to intensify it for Eddie, make her heart go faster. Make her feel good.

Take care of her.

“Used to—used to touch my—chest—”

It slips a tendril closer to the slippery heat tucked between her thighs, brushing something soft and hot and hairless, making Eddie moan. It brushes a claw over a nipple, being sure to use the edge and not the sharp part. It’s a bit softer than it used to be, aching to be touched. “Like this, Eddie?”

“Like it—like it wet—slippery—not dry—”

Venom leans down, extending its tongue, and licks her from below her stomach all the way up between her breasts, circling the tops of her breasts and then down, swirling over each nipple and coating them with saliva for its tendrils to use as a lubricant as they work them back to full hardness.

Eddie bucks violently at the feel of the slick tendrils on her breasts, jerking at the tentacles binding her to the bed. Venom smiles, thrilled at her reaction, and licks its way back down her front. It ends lower than it started, brushing the brown curls just visible above the blanket.

“What else, Eddie?”

Eddie swallows hard, muscles standing out on her arms and abdomen as she fights to remain still. “My…my clit.”

“What is that?”

“It’s…that little nub. Higher…” Eddie swallows audibly as Venom, with what it knows is agonizing slowness, glides its tendril over the warm hot flesh, a second tendril ghosting over the hairs on Eddie’s thigh. She hasn’t shaved them in two weeks, and it prefers her like this, just as she’d been when they’d first bonded. “Higher! Stop teasing me, V—”

“Wet, Eddie.”

Eddie shudders, pulling harder at the tentacles round her ankles as if trying to draw her knees up. “Yes.”

Venom licks experimentally at the wet heat. “Normal, Eddie?”

Eddie winces as if she's embarrassed. “Yes, it’s normal, just—get to the point already—”

“Point?”

“Don’t drag it out, get in and out—”

Venom runs a tendril between the hot wet folds of flesh, smearing the thick, almost sweet-smelling liquid over the folds, nudging up against a hard nub at the top of the flesh that makes Eddie gasp.

“In and out?”

“Figuratively speaking—or not—” Eddie gives a little laugh despite herself. The desperation is back, red M&M-fueled heat building inside her. “I usually make it quick—”

“Why is it wet, Eddie?”

“To aid in—the lubricate the way for a—uh, for something to go inside, though I don’t usually—”

“Inside where?”

“Right where you are, but forget that, get to the clit or let me go—this is not a sex ed class! Just…” She breaks off, closing her eyes, face still red.

Venom reaches into her emotions.

Embarrassment, but also...a sense of being… hollow, as if waiting to be…to be filled…

Eddie cries out in suprise as a fat tentacle slides past the slippery folds of flesh, sinking deep inside her.

“Like that?”

Her mouth is slightly open, forehead creased.

“Hurts, Eddie. I’ll take it out—”

“No!” She tilts her head back, throat exposed, breasts rising in Venom’s cupped talons as she fills her lungs. The air seems to circulate the sensations throughout her body, sending a thrill down to her toes. “Just—slide it in and out—”

“Like loading a cannon, Eddie!”

Eddie laughs. It’s a half-choking sound, as if she’s struggling to maintain any semblance of composure. “I knew that British navy documentary would be good for something—”

Venom begins to move, slipping the tentacle in and out of a place it hadn’t fully known existed until this moment.

Being inside Eddie is exciting in a way it hasn’t experienced until now. There’s a fullness Eddie is experiencing, an odd kind of satisfaction very different from the pleasure still radiating from her nipples or the tendrils still gliding around the wet, swollen flesh of her entrance.

Venom stretches her breasts between two tendrils, flicking the painfully hard nipples between another tendril, running two wet tendrils on either side, pinching them, making Eddie gasp. “Yes, like that—”

With an obscene squelching sound, Venom thrusts inside harder, faster, wanting to be deeper inside Eddie. Its tentacles twine farther up her arms, spreading out, encasing them in inky black liquid and, distracted by how absolutely gorgeous Eddie looks among the crumbled bedclothes, by the new overwhelming new sensations, it releases one ankle.

Eddie raises her knee, wrapping it around Venom’s neck stalks, and begins to thrust upward at Venom, rocking her hips in time to its steady, frantic thrusting.

“The clit,” she gasps, her voice thick and rough. “Please—please—”

“Say it like you mean it, Eddie.”

“Where did you learn that? Touch me, do it, I swear I’ll buy you Godiva tomorrow—”

Venom brushes the clit with a tendril wet from Eddie’s own juices. It’s hot and firm and releases a pulse of pleasure and desire so intense Venom almost loses its rhythm as it plunges its tentacle in and out.

“Bribing me, Eddie? Like in Pretty Woman?”

Eddie half-chokes as Venom runs another tendril over her clit. “So you do know things.”

“Watch TV, Eddie. Just never…felt it.”

“Well, we’re feeling it now! Harder—harder, I’ll buy you Ghirardelli too—”

Venom removes the last of the blanket, gazing down at Eddie as she grinds up onto its thick black tentacle, as she twists beneath the tendrils massaging her nipples, as it twines around her arms and stomach and leg, holding her tightly in its cradle of warm black goo.

“More, Venom, curl the tentacle inside me up—”

Venom obeys, allowing Eddie’s mind to guide it, and rears back, startled, as it touches a nerve bundle deep inside Eddie. Eddie twists her hands in the restraining tentacles, grabbing hold of them as she twists wildly, almost fighting the sensations even as she greedily sucks Venom’s tentacle deeply into her body, bearing down around it as she thrusts.

Eddie is producing something delicious, a not entirely new but a newly pure hormone pumping through her bloodstream. The taste sends waves of delight through the symbiote, combining with the pleasure it feels through Eddie to drive it into a frenzy.

It absorbs the chemicals, delighting in the thrilling tickle of the thousands of tiny pulses of electricity sparking through Eddie, lighting up her body like the Rockefeller Center Christmas tree on TV, buzzing through the symbiote and making it feel fully alive, fully joined with Eddie, feeling what she feels, devouring the hormones pouring through her and enveloping her limbs in its own glistening black essence.

It swipes its tongue over her breasts again, trembling at the feel of her nipples on its tongue. It bends down to lap eagerly at the juices running down the insides of Eddie’s thighs, lick the engorged little pod that’s so sensitive it’s almost painful to touch.

It flicks the tip of its muscular tongue over the tiny nub and Eddie contorts, right leg pulling the binding tentacles taunt while her left leg twists tighter around Venom’s neck, muscles standing out all over her body as her back arches. Waves of pleasure fill her as she rhythmically contracts around Venom, pulling it deeper into herself, the entirely new sensation rushing into Venom and then back into Eddie in a feedback loop that seems to last forever before Eddie collapses back onto the mattress, panting.

Venom strokes her through the last trembling aftershocks. Floats over her in the dimness, unsure of what just happened. “Okay, Eddie?”

“Uh-huh.” Eddie is staring past it with a hazy look in her eye, mouth slightly open, legs quivering as Venom releases her arms and ankles. It still cradles her, not wanting to release her just yet. Eddie is warm under its spreading goo, around the thick tentacle between her legs—

Venom begins sliding in and out of her slowly, avoiding the oversensitive clit. It feels good for Eddie, being lazily entered even after her climax. As it gently moves in and out of her it reaches up and brushes her sweaty hair from her glazed blue eyes.

“Still owe me Godiva, Eddie.”

Eddie laughs, finally coming back to herself. She takes a deep breath, chest expanding pleasantly against the black liquid covering her ribs. “That stuff is way too sweet.”

“You and your black coffee and plain oatmeal.” Venom is certain Eddie would develop a sweet tooth if she only tried anything more exciting than orange juice and reheated Chinese takeout. It’s been on a mission to get her to try new restaurants and brands under the guise of learning about Earth culture. “And you call brains disgusting.”

Eddie closes her eyes. Her heart is still beating fast. “Breakfast of champions. Oatmeal, not brain."

Pulling out of her, Venom delicately touches her cheek with a tendril. “Want oatmeal, Eddie?”

Eddie opens her eyes. “What?”

“You still feel hungry, Eddie. Except…” Venom trails off, leaning down to boop Eddie’s nose. “Still not food hungry…?”

Eddie swallows hard, reaching up to rest her hand on Venom’s face, her thumb stroking Venom’s fangs. She presses the pad of her thumb to a tooth experimentally, as if enjoying its sharpness against her flesh. She trails the crook of her finger over its teeth, brushing its tongue, lets it run between her fingers, seeming to like the slippery feeling against her skin.

Then she seems to realize what she’s doing and lets her hand drop, the pink of her tanned cheeks deepening. With a groan she rolls over to bury her face in the pillow, mumbling something Venom can’t hear.

Venom extends a tentacle around her ribs, squeezing her gently as it bobs behind her. It rests a clawed hand on her shoulder, talons digging into her flesh just on the right side of pain. “Eddie…”

Eddie wraps the pillow around her head. “Damn M&Ms.”

Venom nuzzles her shoulder, fangs scraping the edges of her shoulder blades, licking down her spine. She has a dragon tattoo on her back, and Venom likes how it has teeth like a symbiote. If Eddie chose to permanently put such a thing on her body, she must find it beautiful…

It extends its tongue lower, swiping over the delightfully squishy flesh around her waist, hard muscles suddenly rising in her back as Eddie goes rigid.

“What are you—”

Venom extends two tendrils around Eddie’s hips, lifting them so it can reach between her legs, lifting her onto all fours while supporting her weight. It snakes down lower, delicately probing between the swells of her rear.

Eddie gasps.

“Sensitive there, Eddie?”

Eddie moans in response and Venom brushes the sensitive new spot it’s discovered, a little patch of skin hidden between the pulsing heat beginning to drip between her legs and her backside. Eddie clutches at the sheets, resting her full weight on her elbows and the tentacles crisscrossed over her chest.

Venom twines several tendrils over her breasts as they hang soft and heavy under Eddie. Eddie's breath catches as the tendrils, wet with saliva from Venom’s tongue, grasp at her nipples just as Venom touches its tongue to her hole.

“Don’t!” Eddie gets out. It’s louder than she intends, and Venom wraps a tentacle over her mouth, startled at the sudden sound.

Eddie pries the tentacle off. The tip escapes her grasp, brushing over her lips. “Not your tongue there—”

“Know it feels good, Eddie.”

“I know, just—not the tongue—”

Obligingly Venom slicks up a tentacle with its thick saliva and slides it down towards Eddie’s hole, rubbing over the entrance. Moaning aloud, Eddie bites down hard on the tentacle on her lips and Venom slides deeper inside her mouth, seized by a sudden desire to be back inside Eddie, feel its host’s heat around it.

Eddie gags, and Venom suppresses her gag reflex, swelling against her tongue, reaching deeper, then pulling out, beginning to slide in and out of her mouth.

Venom stops rubbing her hole and Eddie begins to rock her hips, straining against the restraining tentacles as if desperate for friction. Still on all fours, she grinds her clit down on the bunched blankets. Holding her tightly in place, Venom lifts her back up and begins to touch her still-engorged clit as the tentacle brushes back up against her hole, sending a surge of that half-tickling new pleasure through them both.

It’s never given this area much thought, but—

Curiously, it slips the head of the tentacle inside Eddie.

Eddie goes rigid at the painful intrusion.

Venom shuts off her pain receptors as Eddie bucks, thrusting herself farther onto Venom’s tentacle.

It’s an entirely different feeling, being filled from behind. Eddie whimpers around the pulsing tentacle filling her mouth as Venom stretches her wider and thrusts faster and faster, striking that bundle of nerves deep inside, tongue hyper-extended to lap at the dripping heat between her legs as its talons cradle her breasts.

Her nipples aren’t as hard as they were, overstimulated, and Venom scrapes one experimentally, not hard enough to break the skin, just rough enough to stimulate it again, and Eddie full-on chokes on the tentacle down her throat as she struggles to cry out, sobbing with lust, half-mad with the need to come again.

The feel of her throat constricting around its tentacle sends Venom into a kind of madness of its own, Eddie’s arousal mirrored in her Other. It tightens its grip on her even as she ruts back onto it. The tentacle inside her swells, filling her, frantically plunging deeper and deeper inside her tight heat as Eddie’s desperation builds to a climax.

A tidal wave of red rushes through them both as Venom’s tentacle sets off a deeply-buried bundle of nerves, a dozen points of pleasure coming together so that Eddie shrieks around the tentacle in her mouth, screams so loudly that Venom can feel her throat rip itself raw.

The climax tears through them both, startling Venom with its intensity. Every muscle in Eddie’s body goes stiff, her toes curling, thrashing against Venom’s tentacles as it holds her in place, pumping her through her orgasm, still working her breasts and licking her fluttering clit.

It’s different from the first orgasm. Venom tears through the veil separating it from Eddie’s mind, looking through her eyes, feeling exactly what she feels, hearing her complicated thoughts as they melt away in the fire of their climax.

And in turn it feels Eddie inside its mind, brushing up against the tiniest sliver of the collective knowledge of the hivemind.

It tries to shut her out of its mind as they climax together, afraid of damaging its host, frantically trying to redirect Eddie out of its memories.

A whirling expanse of millions of suns, an endless expanse of stars.

The joy of exploration, the beauty of the cosmos. The exhilaration of hurtling through the ether, past exploding supernovas, swirling purple stardust...

And then the long-buried memory of crushing loneliness—of devastating aloneness despite being part of a hivemind—

Breaking free, Eddie breaks flops limply forward on her stomach, gasping for breath as Venom slides out of her mouth, leaving behind a long trail of saliva.

“Too much—too much—” She grabs at a talon gripping her breast, prying it off her, leaving deep scratches in her flesh. “Make it stop—”

Venom breaks off the connection.

“Too much,” Eddie whispers again, but Venom feels a surge of satisfaction, of satiation, that weighs down her limbs and thrums through her suddenly heavy body.

It closes its eyes briefly, then opens them again to make sure Eddie really is there, chasing away the last traces of that terrible memory of loneliness.

Doesn’t matter anymore.

It has a host now…

Has Eddie.

It doesn’t notice the scratches on her chest at first. It’s too busy gently turning her over and slipping out of her, slowly, so as to not hurt her. Its mind is still in a disarray, as tangled and dazed as Eddie’s, as if their thoughts had been dumped out in a single pile and they’re both having trouble separating it all out and tucking them back in the drawers where they belong.

Venom rests its head on the bed beside her, chin on a soft curving hip. Eddie’s hand rests on its head, as if to make up for ripping its talon off her, and it’s not until Eddie’s heart returns to normal that Venom realizes Eddie never let go of that talon.

Eddie seems to notice at the same time Venom does, unlocking her fingers from its muscular black ones with an embarrassed little laugh.

“…well, that was unexpected,” she says, removing her hand from Venom’s head. She pulls the blankets over her, covering her chest and hips. “That feeling—” She hesitates, as if wanting to ask Venom about their mental link, then thinks better of it. She fumbles with the blanket, hesitating again, as if still debating whether or not to open the door of Venom’s past. It had to have come as a surprise to her. Venom hadn’t been lonely these past three months, not for a moment…

But, “Sorry for dragging you into all this, V,” Eddie says instead.

Venom looks up at Eddie. Eddie gazes down into its eyes for a moment before quickly glancing away.

Rubbing her sore throat, Eddie sits up, the blanket slipping slightly. “No more red M&Ms, okay?”

Venom notices the scratches on her chest before Eddie can pull the blanket back up.

“Hurt, Eddie!”

“I’ll be fine. I kinda…I kind of like the…ache…”

“No, your chest!” Venom extends a tendril, touching the skin around the scratches. “Sorry, I am sorry, Eddie—”

“Not your fault.”

“Will heal—” Venom sews up the skin in record time. It’s feeling well-fed for the first time since the last time Eddie let it eat a criminal— weeks— and would be perfectly content if it weren’t for its guilt over the scratches and the fact that Eddie is apologizing to it.

Does that mean Eddie didn’t…didn’t enjoy it? That Eddie…regretted it?

It hurts, the thought that Eddie might want to keep parts of herself separate from Venom, even now. Not want to join fully. Not want to become one, not now, not after tasting a fraction of Venom’s past…

Not after learning that Venom had been an outcast on Klyntar. Eddie had known it was a loser, true, but to feel it— see it—had Venom pulled away in time? How much had it shown Eddie?

“V. Buddy.”

Venom glances over at Eddie. The pink flush is beginning to fade from her face and neck, leaving blotchy white patches on her tanned skin.

Venom raises its head and looks away, gazing out the window at flashing blue and red lights as a police car speeds down the street.

“Thank you,” says Eddie. She reaches out, running her hand under its sharp chin, then pulls her hand away, biting her lip. “…V?”

Venom looks down at her. She sits clutching the blanket to her chest, sweaty hair a disheveled mess. Her full lips are even puffier than usual from being stretched so wide and the saliva on her chin hasn’t quite dried yet.

Ravishing, really. A word it learned from Eddie herself.

Eddie loves words, and Venom loves…

Venom loves….

Eddie scrubs at the saliva as if noticing it for the first time, smiling almost ruefully. “Uh…usually at this point one of us would grab their clothes and slink out. At least that’s how it is in movies. I’ve never had a one-night stand.”

“One-night stand?”

“Like a…one-off.”

Venom glances out the window again.

“Not that I want you to leave, it’s just—uh—” Eddie hesitates. Her throat is still sore. “Venom—buddy—this doesn’t have to be awkward just because we live together.”

Awkward?

Eddie fiddles with an earring. She has a half-dozen piercings, something Venom finds fascinating. “I would have expected it to be more awkward than it was, if I’m being honest. And…if I had to choose someone, I’d…I’d choose you.”

Venom glances back at Eddie. “Really, Eddie?”

Eddie scoots towards the edge of the bed. “Really really.” She gets up, still holding her blanket around her like a Roman senator, and heads for the bathroom. “I’m going to take a shower.”

Venom settles back down on the bed like a cat.

Eddie hesitates, then turns. “You could probably use one too,” she says, though she must know good and well that’s not how symbiotes work, and disappears into the bathroom before it can respond.

Venom flows excitedly after her. The light is on in the bathroom, bright and artificial and so normal that it dispels any last awkwardness as Eddie steps under the blasting shower. So this is why there’s barely any water pressure in the kitchen: it’s all in the showerhead.

Venom gives a pleased wriggle as the hot water pelts its forehead. It hands Eddie the mold-speckled bottle from the ledge and watches as she squeezes a glob onto her hand and works it into her hair. It wants to help but isn’t sure she would want that after everything that just happened.

But, “Is it all out?” Eddie asks, her eyes squeezed shut against the stinging bubbles, and Venom washes out the last of the goop, enjoying the intoxicating scent of the Head & Shoulders two-in-one shampoo and conditioner.

It disappears back into Eddie as she takes the bar of soap from its little alcove in the wall and begins to wash the still-sticky area between her legs.

She tries to hide it, but Venom can feel a twinge of embarrassment.

I won’t eat any more red M&Ms, Eddie! Venom blurts insider her head.

Eddie groans, leaning a shoulder against a wall that really should not be touched by anyone trying to get clean. “Can we not talk about this while we’re in the shower?”

Promise not to eat any unless you do first, Eddie.

Eddie bites her lip, hard enough to bleed, using her full symbiote-enhanced jaw strength. A bad habit. Venom doesn’t like her hurting herself like that, even unintentionally, but it likes fixing her. “That’s not going to happen ever again.”

…Never, Eddie?

“Look, buddy, I…I don’t regret it, but—”

A twinge of shame. Usually at this point one of us would grab their clothes and slink out, Eddie had said.

Then…

“It’s complicated. Like you’re…you’re my best friend.”

Venom perks up despite itself. And you are mine, Eddie!

Eddie gives a bit of a chuckle. “Not like you have many options.”

Mrs. Chen gave me a Welcome to Earth gift!

“A ten-percent discount on bok choy.”

Venom squirms around Eddie’s ribs. So…

“So we shouldn’t have let it rot in the crisper.”

Eddie…

Eddie sighs. “I don’t regret it.”

…You sure, Eddie?

Eddie fiddles with the showernob as the hot water abruptly cuts out. “Well, I kind of regret promising you chocolate we can’t afford.”

Eddie…

“Yes, I’m sure. It was fun.”

It was fun, Eddie!

Eddie pulls the shower curtain open, shivering slightly. “But that thing at the end…”

Venom reaches out the door, fetching her ratty old bathrobe from across the apartment and carefully wrapping her in the soft orange terry cloth. That wasn’t…

Eddie hesitates. “We can, uh, we can talk about it if you want.”

Venom intentionally misunderstands. Did you like the stars, Eddie? Can show you more…

“It was…intense.” Eddie runs a comb through her wet hair, pulling it into a ponytail. Venom’s not sure if it’s relieved or disappointed she doesn’t pry. “Could you show me without…having sex again? At least not...uh...not unless we eat M&Ms again. By mistake, I mean...”

Can figure out how!

“Okay, but…not just yet.”

Whenever you’re ready, Eddie.

Eddie squeezes toothpaste onto her toothbrush, smiling at the sight of the chocolate ice cream on the label. “…How about we watch a documentary? Your choice.”

Even A Week Among the Amoebas?

“Even pay-per-view of Deer Ticks: An Odyssey, if you want it."

Venom relaxes inside her, settling snugly in her torso, feeling her heartbeat pulse steady and sweet against its biomass.

Eddie turns out the light and heads for the couch.

I’d choose you.

It hums contentedly, twining gently around her ribs, savoring the last of the delicious hormones swirling through her bloodstream.

I’d choose you.

Just like Venom chose Eddie.

Eddie turns on the documentary and settles on the couch, picking up her warm beer and adjusting the rocket ship cozy. Venom extends a tentacle from her arm, resting it on Eddie's knee.

Eddie pats it, sending a tingle of happiness through Venom.

I’d choose you.

It can live with that.

[sherrybaby14]

Get Dressed

Summary:  You’re quarantined with your fiance and it is finally time to brace the public \. 

Pairing:  Steve Rogers x reader 

Words:  2k

Warnings: Smut, apocalypse, wedding

A/N:  This is Covid inspired, but VERY inaccurate.  This is not a COVID story, zero scientific fact in it.  

A/N 2:  Thank you to @imanuglywombat​ and @opheliadawnwalker3​ for the motivation to write! 

At first it was easy, fun even.  Quarantine with your fiance.  Steve cared so much about the world and the people who lived in it both of you agreed two weeks with no media.  

   What a glorious two weeks it was.  Selfish, isolated, grocery delivery ordering lobster, filets, and all the saffron you wanted.  

   “Don’t forget my ice cream!”  You pressed yourself to your man’s back as he placed the order, kissing his bare shoulder.

   “Who do you take me for?”  He scrolled the screen up to show your preferred flavor already in the cart.  He clicked place order then turned his head to you, pulling your face down kissing you hard.

   A moan got caught in your throat as you nudged his shoulder, he flipped to his back and you straddled him.  When was the last time you’d gotten dressed?

   Steve’s cock was growing stiff between your thighs and the thought disappeared.  What did it matter?  You were the only two people in the world.

   The honeymoon ended with the two week isolation.  Both of you fought your feelings on the situation, but it was hard not to discuss.  

   “I didn’t think it would get this bad.”  You didn’t bother holding back the tears.

   “Me either.”  Steve gripped your hand and squeezed.  “Could...do you think I...did I miss an opportunity to…was there something....”

   You brought your hand up and wiped the drop from his eye.  

   “No.”  You lied to yourself, of course there was a chance he could have made a difference.  He was Captain America, but really any American could have.  You were just as guilty as him.  

   Things did not get better, but both of you were taking all the right steps.  Still enjoying your time together.  

   “Weird question.”  Steve dragged his finger between your breasts, up your neck, to your chin, then finally stuck his finger between your lips.

   “No such thing.”  You bit your teeth lightly into his digit, sucking it in and rolling your tongue around, loving the way a purr escaped his lips.  

   “Shit, I was going to ask if you would blow my finger like you do my dick, but you’re already doing it.”  Steve rolled on top of you as you spread your legs, heart flaring.  “Fuck, you are the best thing on the planet...no galaxy.”

   You were so wet he slid right in, you grabbed his wrist and moved his finger in and out with the pace he set while he fucked you.  There was good in the world.  There was Steve in the world.

   Then the date hit.  Canceled.  You knew it was coming, everyone did.  All plans set aside.  

   “I was supposed to be Mrs. Rogers today.”  You sniffled.  

   “I didn’t think you were going to change your name.”  Steve lifted your chin.  “We never talked about that.”

   “I didn’t know I wanted to until right now.”  The tears broke free as he pulled you in for a deep hug, cradling you against his chest as you sobbed.  “Time and space could not separate us.”

   You lifted your head and looked up at him.  Steve kissed your forehead.  

   “That was my vow.”  His eyes twinkled down at you.  

       You burst out laughing, mixed with sobs.  He smiled and lightly punched you on the arm.  

       “Really?”  You calmed down and looked up at him.  “It’s so short?”

       “I’ve never needed words to convey my feelings about you.”  Steve’s eyes narrowed.

“Then show me?”  You twisted your body so you were on all fours on the couch.  

Teeth met your shoulder as his body pressed to your back.  

“This means more to me than a room full of guests.”  Steve pushed inside of you as you groaned and your arms dropped.  “Time and space.”  

The two of you watched the world destroy itself, but never turned on each other.  Conflicting sources made it difficult to tell if things were getting worse or better. The Avengers called and Steve was gone.  

       “It’s my first mission back.”  Steve kissed you.  “I have to go.”

       “I know.”  You squeezed his hand, not daring to wipe the tear that slipped down his cheek.  

       No your hand trailed to his chest.  Covered for the first time in weeks, the suit felt awkward.  You missed the bare skin.  

       Lips crashed to yours as he hoisted you up and pinned you to the wall. Nudity was the new normal and you bit back the laugh as he struggled to release himself from his uniform.  He was as used to the easy access as you were.

       The laugh disappeared when he released himself and pounded you into the wall.  Your thighs shook, happy for the distraction you would be apart for the first time in months.  

       Maybe it was Steve leaving that night, his missions were getting more and more regular,  maybe it was the natural shift of things, but normalcy started to return.  The news was not so dire, recovery was happening.  People had done their part, the enemy was sinking away.  There was no magical grandstand moment signalling the end.  Was it really the end?

       “We are going out tonight.”  Steve slapped your ass.  “Go on, get dressed.”

       “What?”  You sat up from your head in his lap.  “You mean it?”

       “Yes.”  He stood up from the couch.  “You have an hour.  We are leaving the house, together.”

       This wasn’t even your house.  It was Tony’s, he’d given all of the Avengers a place to stay during the event, but it felt like home with Steve here.  

       “But what about..” Before you got the question out Steve grabbed your arm and yanked you up.  

       SLAP! SPANK!  You trotted away and grabbed your bottom as you looked over your shoulder at him.  

       “No questions.  You have an hour.”  He folded his arms over his chiseled chest, your eyes went south and your tongue licked your lips at the swinging member between his legs.  “NONE of that! Go!  Get dressed.”

       Stinging rear aside you raced up the stairs, straight to the bedroom. Excitement and nerves filled you as you did your hair and makeup.  It had been so long but your mind went on auto pilot as you readied yourself.  

       Looking in the mirror you felt beautiful.  Done up as you liked, knowing Steve would be thrilled, but you realized one thing was missing: clothes.

       Sure, you’d thrown on a shirt or pants here or there, but when was the last time you had dressed yourself?  It was the Rogers’ nudist colony in here.  

       You grabbed some underwear and a bra, slipping those on before you went to the closet.  Tony spared no expense moving you out here so your entire wardrobe was available.  

       You grabbed a red dress, it would do, you pulled it on.  It felt strange.  You went to look in the mirror and shook your head. First night out in forever,  you needed something special.  

       A patterned cocktail dress that you looked fabulous in caught your eye and you slipped it on.  This was the one.  When you looked in the mirror you shook your head no.  

       Besides, where was Steve taking you?  What if it was a dive bar?  You grabbed jeans and a t-shirt. No, that was all wrong.  Way to hot out.  And who decided jeans were comfortable?  You wanted comfy pants.

       Were yoga pants still in style?  Was anything in style?  Did style matter anymore?  

       “BABY HOURS UP!”  Steve’s voice echoed off the hall.  

       “COMING!” You smirked, knowing he used a pet name so there was no pressure.  

       You wanted to have fun.  Forget the happenings of the world, what was more fun than Halloween?  You were nervous enough about going out you grabbed your witch costume and tossed it on.  Where was your wig and hat?  Maybe put on the wart nose too.  

       You touched your hair, touched your skin.  No mirror.  You were going out in public for the first time in so long you had forgotten how to dress.  

       Your anxiety level was so high you debated on walking back down naked and telling Steve to order some food.  But was that really what you wanted?  

       What did you want?  The question was always so hard to answer and you were always so unsure.  Then you saw what you wanted to wear, not because it meant anything to anyone but you.  

       Grabbing the garment you slipped it on.  You walked out of the closet and looked in the mirror.  Your breath caught.  Before you could talk yourself out of it you turned and went down the stairs.  

       “Alright,  I went fancy.”  You twirled at the bottom, ready to see Steve in some shorts and a golf shirt, but there he was in a tuxedo.”

       “I have waited too long to see you in that dress.”  Steve reached up and grabbed your hands.  “And we have waited too long to make this official.”  

       “We’re getting married?”  You glanced around the house.  Nobody was there.  “How? We need witnesses, an officiant, a marriage license.”

       “No.”  Steve grabbed your hands.  “All we need is each other.”  

       He brought your hands to his mouth and kissed them, then grabbed your ring finger and slid it between his lips.  His cheek puffed as his tongue moved.  You felt something hard against your digit.  

Steve spit out your hand and when you looked there was a wedding band around it.  

“Time and space baby.”  Steve winked.  “Now you share yours.”

He pressed his ring into your hand.  Your mind flared with how to respond, both of you in your wedding attire, nobody else here, your husband licking your ring onto your finger.  How could you compete with that?

Months alone gave you the courage and you grabbed the top of your dress.  You started to pull it apart, wanting the thing off.  Steve’s fingers went to help and with a rip it fell to the floor.  Leaving you bra and panties in front of your groom.  

You dropped to your knees and looked up at him as you took off his pants, the belt first, then the button and fly.  A groan left your lips as you spotted his boxers.  

“Baby I need that ring.”  Steve slid them down, his cock sprung forward. “Let’s make this official.”  

He guided his cock to your lips as you parted them, taking him in.  With the belt in your hand you swung it around his ass, opening your jaw as you set the pace, pulling his hips, making him go deeper into your throat.

“This was supposed to be special.”  Steve groaned.  “Romantic.  Make it official.”  

You ignored him, loving the control, the way he was rock hard in your mouth as you took him further.  

Something started to itch,  you realized it was your bra.  

“Please baby, marry me.”  He tried to push his finger to your lip.  “I want that ring on my finger.”  

You dropped the belt and popped up from your knees.  Held the jewelry out in your palm as you unhooked your bra and shimmied out of your underwear.  

“Baby we’ve been married since the first day we met.”  You put his wedding band in your mouth, flicking your tongue around the thing, enjoying the show as he stripped out of his tuxedo.  “In two weeks I’ll put this on your finger.”

Steve let out a growl as he fell on top of you.  He found your pussy eager and waiting for him.  There was no holding back anything.  

You tried to wrap your legs around his waist, but he was pumping into you with fury.  You sunk your teeth into his shoulder loving the way his neck craned back.  

“I love you.”  Steve glared down at you.  “Time and space.”  

You came undone.  Your body rolling as the pleasure exploded.  Jaws, leaving his shoulder while you shuddered.  

A stifled moan left his lips as you felt his cock fill you.  Eyes rolling back in your head, this was all you needed.  Just the two of you.

When your breathing calmed down and reality returned you found yourself snuggled up to Steve on top of your wedding dress.  Him kissing your head and holding you close.  

“So are we married now?”  He pulled you tighter.  

“Sure.” You shrugged.  “Wanna hear my vows?”

You had worked on them for the last two months, struggling with paragraphs and the right thing to say.  

“Yessss.”  He squeezed you so tight.  “Please, let me hear them.”

“I love you.”  

[thewidowsghost]

The Unknown Muggleborn - Chapter 20

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

"And you, (L/n)," Malfoy leers as (Y/n) crosses the shop after Harry. "I'm astounded you didn't go in for the attention. That seems to be your focus at school."

"Leave her alone, she doesn't want attention," says Ginny. It is the first time she'd spoke in front of (Y/n); she's glaring at Malfoy.

"(L/n), you've got yourself a girlfriend!" drawls Malfoy. Ginny goes scarlet as Ron and Hermione fight their way over, both clutching stacks of Lockhart's books.

"Oh, it's you," says Ron, looking at Malfoy as if he is something unpleasant on the sole of his shoe. "Bet you're surprised to see Harry and (Y/n) here, eh?"

"Not as surprised as I am to see you in a shop, Weasley," retorts Malfoy. "I suppose your parents will go hungry for a month to pay for all those."

Ron goes as red as Ginny. He drops his books into the cauldron, too, and starts towards Malfoy, but (Y/n) grabs him by the back of his jacket, looking rather bored.

"Ron!" says Mr. Weasley, struggling over with Fred and George. "What are you doing? It's too crowded in here, let's go outside."

"Well, well, well — Arthur Weasley." It is Mr. Lucius Malfoy. He stands with his hand on Draco's shoulder, sneering in the same way.

"Lucius," says Mr. Weasley, nodding coldly.

"Busy time at the Ministry, I hear," says Mr. Malfoy. "All those raids . . . I hope they're paying you overtime?"

Mr. Malfoy reaches into Ginny's cauldron and extracts, from amid the glossy Lockhart books, a new copy of A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration. "Obviously they have," Mr. Malfoy says, looking surprised. "Hmm, I wonder, what's the use of being a disgrace to the name of wizard of they only pay you enough for one lousy book."

Mr. Weasley flushes darker than either Ron or Ginny, and (Y/n)'s eyes flash silver.

Even though Harry and Hermione knew it is probably useless, but they grab onto the back of (Y/n)'s shirt, straining to hold the girl back.

"We have a very different idea of what disgraces the name of wizard, Malfoy," Mr. Weasley growls.

"Clearly," says Mr. Malfoy, his pale eyes straying to (Y/n), who is holding Ron back, and Mr. and Mrs. Granger, who are watching apprehensively. "The company you keep, Weasley . . . and I thought your family could sink no lower -"

There is a thud of metal as Ginny's cauldron goes flying: Mr. Weasley had thrown himself at Mr. Malfoy, knocking him backward into a bookshelf. Dozens of heavy spellbooks come thundering down on all their heads; there is a yell of, "Get him, Dad!" from Fred or George; Mrs. Weasley is shrieking, "No, Arthur, no!"; Draco is squealing as (Y/n) twists his arm back - the girl having moved faster than the others had seen - (Y/n) pushing the arm up closer to Draco's shoulders; the crowd stampedes backwards, knocking more shelves over; "Gentlemen, my dear, please - please!" cries the assistant, and then, louder than all -

"Break it up, there, break it up -"

(Y/n) turns her gaze on Hagrid, who is wading towards them through the sea of books. (Y/n) lets go of Draco's arm, but not before shoving him forward; Draco stumbles, falling face first into a pile of books. In an instant, Hagrid had pulled Mr. Weasley and Mr. Malfoy apart. Mr. Weasley had a cut lip, and Mr. Malfoy had been hit in the eye by an Encyclopedia of Toadstools. Malfoy is still holding Ginny's Transfiguration book. He thrusts it at her, his eyes glittering with malice.

"Here, girl - take your book - it's the best your father can give you -" pulling himself out of Hagrid's grip, Mr. Malfoy pulls Draco from the ground and sweeps from the shop.

"Yeh should've ignored them, (Y/n), Arthur," says Hagrid, almost lifting Mr. Weasley off his feet as he straightens his robes. "Rotten ter the core, the whole family, everybody knows that - no Malfoy's worth listenin' ter - bad blood, that's what it is - come on now - let's get outta here."

The assistant looks as though he wants to stop them from leaving, but he barely comes up to Hagrid's waist and seems to think better of it. They hurry up to the street, the Grangers shaking with fright and Mrs. Weasley beside herself with fury, and a contented smirk on (Y/n)'s face.

(Y/n)'s friends look at her, amazement in their eyes. Last they knew, (Y/n) didn't know any martial arts or anything of that nature. Something must've changed for her over the summer, Ron thinks.

"A fine example to set for your children . . . brawling in public . . . what Gilderoy Lockhart must've thought -" Mrs. Weasley scolds her husband.

"He was pleased," says Fred. "Didn't you hear him as we were leaving? He was asking that bloke from teh Daily Prophet if he'd be able to work the fight into his report - said it was all publicity -"

But it is a subdued group that heads back to teh fireside in the Leaky Cauldron, where Harry, the Weasleys and all their shopping would be traveling back to the Burrow using Floo powder.

. . .

"Hermione?" (Y/n) questions her sister, (Y/n) and Hermione having joined Ginny and Neville in one of the carriages in the train.

"Hmm," Hermione says, looking up from one of her Gilderoy Lockhart books.

"Is that a flying car?" (Y/n) asks and the other three in the compartment dash over, looking at the blue Ford Anglia flying through the sky beside the Hogwarts Express.

"That's my dad's car," Ginny says, looking away shyly as (Y/n) turns her green gaze on youngest Weasley.

"Ron and Harry are so dead," (Y/n) mutters and Hermione nods, going back to her Lockhart book.

. . .

With an earsplitting bang of metal on wood, the blue Ford Anglia hits the thick tree trunk and drops to the ground with a heavy jolt. Steam is billowing from under the crumpled hood; Hedwig is shrieking in terror, a golf-ball-sized lump is throbbing on Harry's head where he had hit the windshield; to his right, Ron lets out a low, despairing groan.

"Are you okay?" Harry says urgently.

"My wand," groans Ron in a shaky voice. "Look at my wand -"

It had snapped, almost in two; the tip is dangling limply, held on by a few splinters.

Harry opens his mouth to say he is sure they'd be able to med it up at the school, but he never even gets started. At that very moment, something hits his side of the car with the force of a charging bull, sending him lurching sideways into Ron, just as an equally heavy blow hits the roof.

"What's happen -?"

Ron gasps, staring though the windshield, and Harry looks around just in time to see a branch as thick as a python smash into it. The tree they hit was attacking them. Its trunk is bent almost double and its gnarled boughs are pummeling ever inch of the car it could reach.

"Aaargh!" says Ron as another twisted limb punches a large dent into his door; the windshield is now trembling under a hail of blows from knuckle-like twigs and a branch as thick as a battering ram was pounding furiously on the roof, which seems to be caving. "Run for it!" Ron shouts, throwing his full weight against his door, but next second he had been knocked backward into Harry's lap by a vicious uppercut from another branch. "We're done for!" he moans as the ceiling sagged, but suddenly the floor of the car is vibrating — the engine had restarted.

Word Count: 1288 words

Taglist:

@big-galaxy-chaos

[freshluxbreeze]

man i wish i was just so much more out there and went for what i liked in terms of fashion since i was so online as a teen on ig and tumblr like i adored so many of the 2014-2016/2017 trends but didnt have the money to ever buy the stuff and was horrified at the idea of bad reactions or people calling me weird so i just sat on my computer fantasizing about all the cool clothes i was constantly saving in carts and wishlists...the grunge gridboard shirts, the plain tennis skirts, the big UNIF clothing craze and that rainbow sweater, odd future donut hoodies + golf merch, the pastel tv heads, pom pom earrings, the vaporwave fashion of transparent jackets, holographic accesories and big boots, the cute vintage-type fantasy dresses with like tons of material idk what its called but they got those 2 round collar flaps on them, the snapbacks with some sort of tiny thing embroidered in the middle, the ‘art hoe’ look before it was whitewashed to death... im glad i at least managed to taste the happiness of galaxy print leggings, led light up shoes and a flower crown but when i tell you i was at WORK trying to figure out how to emulate what i couldnt get with stuff only from the mall + limiting myself to what was not ‘too out of the box’ from what i was usually doing

[1310ranchhouse]

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[jimmydemaret]

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[justanotherdeadgirlwalking]

That is Just the Saddest F**king Thing I Have Ever Heard.

TW obviously DEH is about a kid’s suicide, so it has those themes

other parts :)

Part Five. 

Art doesn’t just happen. It’s a process. You need a muse, an inspiration, something that lights a spark in your brain. Inspiration is everywhere. I’m surrounded constantly by beautiful bodies, beautiful faces. Sometimes you walk down the street and see how perfectly someone’s shoulders meet their slender neck, and the image burns into your mind. You want to see it in front of you again, but you can’t because that would require stalking the person to find them, and that’s super fucking creepy. So, you settle for the next best thing, you draw it. You sketch it over and over again until you get it right, and suddenly that woman is in front of you again. I prefer to draw people, because then you never run out of ideas. Faces are so unique; each body is different. There’s billions of people in the world, each one just waiting to be captured; I never run out of ideas. Eyes are like two little galaxies right in the center of the asteroid that is your face.

Putting together a portfolio has been a lot harder than I’d expected. I thought I’d just through my favorite drawings in a folder and call it a day. The only problem is, I hate literally everything I have ever drawn. Mom has always told me that my drawing look like photographs. That’s complete bullshit because you can see fingerprint smudges, and you can tell that one eye is significantly better than the other, and the noses look like shit. I literally want to redo every piece.

I’m not being one of those people that says their work is shit because they’re fishing for compliments, I know they’re good. I’ve been featured in district art shows, and I’ve won awards. And I’m not trying to sound like a cocky asshole either. Art is just the one thing in my life I have complete and total control over, and trust me, I took control. I can choose how it looks, I can make it as perfect, or imperfect as I want it. I had to beg my parents for the best pencils and canvas to use. I figured, I didn’t take music lessons or dance lessons like Zoe did, you guys can buy me some quality supplies. They didn’t want to waste money on the stuff if I wasn’t going to use it. As a child I tried a lot of sports and hated them. When I was ten, I joined the swim team. I practiced every day, for hours. I even talked Zoe into training with me, I made her time me, and yell at me in an angry German accent when I wasn’t making time. Then, after probably hundreds of hours of training, I decided that I didn’t like swimming before I even had the chance to compete. I guess they didn’t want me to do the same thing with art. Mom finally took me to an art store, like a real art store, when I proved to her I was serious about it. It was like going to Disney world. Everything I’ve ever dreamed of was right there in front of me. There was a wall of colored pencils. There were pencils in every color I could think of, and then some, colors I never even seen before. I stood there in awe. It was a game changer to use real colored pencils, not Crayola’s. Larry was so mad, he didn’t understand how art supplies could be so expensive. Well, I don’t understand why someone would spend $100 on a dozen golf balls either, so I guess we’re even.

Since I couldn’t realistically redo every piece of art I’ve ever made, I decided I would just use every piece that my art teacher loved and draw one new piece. It seemed like a good compromise. Miss Schmitt was the only person I really trust with anything. She’s always pushed me to keep going, not to give up on a piece and see it through. She didn’t teach me how to draw, you can’t teach talent, but she always motivated me.

I really needed her motivation now. There was one person I really wanted to draw, but I seemed to have a mental block on what they looked like. Miss Schmitt told me to use a reference picture, but I didn’t want anyone to know who I was drawing. It would make me look psycho, and people finally stopped thinking I was a freak.  I couldn’t bring myself to draw his face, so I drew his body. I drew his New Balance sneakers and his mal fitting khakis. I spent hours trying to replicate the crease down the front of his pants just right. I even made a special trip to the art store to make sure I found the right shades of blue for his stupid stripped shirt. I got an off-white colored pencil so I could shade his cast just right. Evan’s arm may not be broken anymore, but when I think of him, I think of him in his cast, just after I signed it. When everything was still really real and made sense.

I’ve become obsessed with him. How could I not be, he was my one and only friend. Except, that wasn’t true, and he used me for a better life. I really wanted nothing to do with him, but at the same time I wanted to know everything about him. It didn’t help that he was always around.

There was a knock on my door. “Come in” I called, snapping my sketchbook shut. I looked up to see Evan in my room, behind him, Zoe was peering in, almost hiding. “What’s up” I asked them, annoyed. Evan stands there for a second, looking down and playing with his fingers. I cleared my throat to get his attention.

“Um, me and Zoe want to talk to you” he spits out in a nervous stutter. I motion for them to come in. Zoe comes in and sits on my bed, not looking at me. Evan stands still for another moment before pulling the door shut and sitting on the ground where he stood. Everyone is silent for a moment, avoiding eye contact. I cough loudly to end the awkwardness.

“What did you guys want to talk about?” I ask.

Its Zoe that answers, softly, her voice breaking, “I want answers,” she says. Well kid, that makes two of us. “Why did you try to kill yourself.”

I feel like I was kicked in the chest. I don’t really have an explanation as to why. I just did. It was impulsive, seemed like the right thing to do in the moment. I wasn’t suicidal, and I wasn’t depressed beyond my normal gloom and doom. I just did it because I felt like it. I wasn’t feeling helpless or worthless, just bored. Except, I can’t tell her that. “Connor?” she asks. I just stare at her, hoping she will drop it. She meets my gaze and raises an eyebrow. She looks so sad, so broken. I must have really hurt her.

“I don’t want to talk about it” I say.

She sighs and balls her fists and taps them against her legs. She didn’t like that answer. I get it. I’d want to know too, I guess. Except, there’s nothing to know. Except, I wasn’t as important to her as she is to me.

“In the emails you wrote to Evan,” she starts. Oh, great the fake emails, “you were doing so well. Please you don’t need to tell me everything, but I just want to know what happened”

“I said I don’t want to fucking talk about it.” I snap.

Evan coughs, bringing attention to himself. I forgot he was here for a second. He looks nervous, really nervous. I don’t blame him, I could blow up his whole life right now with the truth. “Maybe he needs more time Zoe” he says. I give him a dirty look.

Zoe slams her hand against the bed, “You’ve had months,” she yells, “How much more time do you need. How do you go from climbing trees with Evan to killing yourself in a park?”

“Zoe,” Evan says, “you remember what you read, you don’t want to trigger him.” Trigger me? Okay Evan, you just don’t want me to tell the truth. Evan stands and opens the door, motioning for Zoe to leave. She looks at me again, pleading me with her eyes, then gets up and leaves. Evan lingers for a moment, watching her walk down the hall to her room. He steps back in and slams the door.

“We need to talk f-for real,” He says.

“Oh, for sure” I say, standing up and covering the distance between us until I’m towering over him, “Let’s talk about how you’re taking advantage of my entire fucking family.”

He’s beet red. “I’m not” he says, looking at the floor.

“Hey buddy, we’re not friends, we never were friends, and we’re probably never going to be friends.” I say

“Wh-why not?” he whispers.

“News flash,” I yell, “the first and only time I ever talked to you was when I signed your cast remember? You lied to everyone, and you’re a shitty liar.”

Evan is silent, he’s staring at the ground and pulling at his fingers. I watch him as he scratches his neck, pulls his ear, shifts his weight. I’ve thought Evan and I were the same; neither of us had friends because we were outcasts so to speak. He was just socially awkward, whereas I was the school freak. But I could tell he felt the same stuff I felt. The same wish that someone would notice us, that we were both on the outside, always looking in. Maybe if things were different we would be friends. I tried reaching out to him, but he was too self-absorbed with his own issues to notice me. And now, I am somehow engulfed in his issues. He took my suicide and made it about him. He lied to my parents and Zoe and the whole world. Evan Hansen was a nobody, a barely in the background kind of guy, and now his basically an internet celebrity. And me? People still don’t care about me, but at least they’re nice to me now.

I think that’s why I’m so angry about the whole situation. He got what he always wanted, he got his dreams come true. He got a taste of a perfect life, so he did what he had to do. But it ends now. I hope it was fun and he had a blast while he dragged me along.

“Did you read the emails?” Evan finally asks. I read them. He wrote a story of a perfect friendship. Friends that quote their favorite bands and tells jokes nobody understands except us two, and there’s nothing that we can’t discus, like girls we wish would notice us but never do. He even included me encouraging him to go after my sister. The fucking creep.

“Dear Evan Hansen,” I say, “You either tell Zoe and my parents the truth, or I will.” I open my door and shove him out of my room, “Sincerely, me.

[itssimonbeck]

my favorite Khonjin House quotes in ᵃˡᵐᵒˢᵗ chronological order

“I think it’s time to order a PEP-PEP-PEP-PEPperoni pizza”

“You can’t do this, Gay Spaghetti Chef!” “Kid... It’s just Gay Spaghetti now”

“Actually it’s a silent D. It’s pronounced “Jeffrey”“

“he͝ļlo son҉“

“but that’s a different plate of cookies for a different glath of milk”

“Do you even know what 9/11 is?! I WAS THERE!!!!!!!! on those planes”

“do not touch it” “why” “it’s just a little scooty” “what” “you know, it’s just a little scooty, don’t f u c k w i t h i t”

“WOW YOU FUCKING ASSHO O O O O O O O O O O O O O”

"The only C I can explain, are the C4 explosives planted under the floorboards." “What” “This whole place is going to hell.” “This can’t be!” “You’re right. Cause it’s C. Four. I planted the bombs. As previously stated.”

“Dear Mr. Fratelli, You may already be a winner.” *8000% VOLUME SMASH BROS VICTORY JINGLE*

“Unfortunately for Gino... He will never find the chiwowwow.”

“how about you get me a PSPiece of pizza or you can Nintendo 64get about ever surviving!”

“Here’s-a your pizza! With extra pizza!”

“EVERY- FUCKING- SHITTY-ASS SPAGHETTI PIECE OF SHiT!” *crash* “OH SHIT NOT AGAIN OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO0000000000000000″

“Hey, you! You like pizza?” “EƎEƎEƎEƎEƎEƎEƎ“

“It’s right here!” “That’s a wrench.” “Oh, I- I could have sworn this was a... a thermometer-” *WHACK*

“YAO IDIOT”

“*speaks Japanese*” [How easily you forget... ...I had the pepperoni pizza all along.]

“The following advertisement is anadvertisement.”

“Members of the jury, Gino says I’m fucking idiot.”

“I rest.” *collapses*

"Alright, boys. The heist is very ssssimple.            Kay. A rival gang set up shop right. Across the street.           Gay Spaghetti.          Okay? From the pizzeria.      You fuck. Their main export;          ᵖᵉᵖᵖᵉʳᵒⁿᶦ ᵖᶦᶻᶻᵃ ᵇʳᵉᵃᵈ” “So... If we steal-a the pepperoni... No more pizza bread.” “Precisely, ʸᵒᵘ ᶠᵘᶜᵏᶦⁿᵍ ᶦᵈᶦᵒᵗ. Rob the place of every peppy. I want every peppy, on my desk, by the... The 69th...          hour...      Four... 420 days.    From now.” *the entire cast cracks up*

“Rob the place of every f u c k boy. I want every desk on my desk.”

“Oooooooooooh.    The map is spaghetti”

“Khonjin. Just give us the pepperoooni.”

“WELCOME TO THE KING OBSTACLE COURSE TO BECOME THE KING YOU MUST GET THROUGH THE FUCKING THING READY GOOOOOOooooo”

“It looks like a magic”

“Do I look like someone who knows what the hell. That is. Because I am. What was your question?”

“A real shark would never fall for such a stupid trick! Wait a second. A shark would never fall for that. And if he was a shark, why is he at the newsroom, if there’s no news in the ocean? And why are his legs comprised of the seven Chaos Em-OH SHIT IT’S THE BIOLIZARD”

“ᵂᵉˡᶜᵒᵐᵉ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᵉᵛᵉʳʸᵇᵒᵈʸ, ᵐʸ ʷᶦᶠᵉ ᶦˢ ᵃ ᵇᶦᵗᶜʰ, ʷᵉ'ʳᵉ ʰᵉʳᵉ ᵃᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵇᵉᵃᵘᵗᶦᶠᵘˡ ᴺᶦᶜᵏᵛᶦˡˡᵉ ˢᑫᵘᵃʳᵉ ᶜᵒᵘⁿᵗʳʸ ᶜˡᵘᵇ ᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ⁿᵒᵗᵒʳᶦᵒᵘˢ ᶠᵒᵘʳᵗʰ ʰᵒˡᵉ ʷʰᶦᶜʰ ᶦˢ ᵃ ᵖᵃʳ ²⁶. ᵀʰᵃᵗ'ˢ ʳᶦᵍʰᵗ, ᶦᵗ ᶦˢ ᵗʰᵉ ˡᵉⁿᵍᵗʰ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ᴬᵖᵖᵃˡᵃᶜʰᶦᵃⁿ ᵐᵒᵘⁿᵗᵃᶦⁿ ʳᵃⁿᵍᵉ. ᴺᵉᵛᵉʳ ᵗʰᵉ ˡᵉˢˢ, ᴷʰᵒⁿʲᶦⁿ ᶦˢ ᵉˣᵃᶜᵗˡʸ ᵒⁿᵉ ˢᵗʳᵒᵏᵉ ᵃʷᵃʸ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᵛᶦᶜᵗᵒʳʸ. ᴹᵘᶜʰ ˡᶦᵏᵉ ᵐʸ ᵍʳᵃⁿᵈᶠᵃᵗʰᵉʳ ᶦˢ ᵒⁿᵉ ˢᵗʳᵒᵏᵉ ᵃʷᵃʸ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ʰᵃᵛᶦⁿᵍ ᵐᵉ ᶦⁿʰᵉʳᶦᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᶠᵃᵐᶦˡʸ ᶠᵒʳᵗᵘⁿᵉ. ʸᵉˢ ᶦⁿᵈᵉᵉᵈ, ʰᵉ ᵖʳᵒᶜᵘʳᵉᵈ ᵐᶦˡˡᶦᵒⁿˢ ᵒᶠ ᵈᵒˡˡᵃʳˢ ᵃˢ ᵃ ᶜᵒⁿ ᵐᵃⁿ. ᴴᵉ ˢᵒˡᵈ ᵇᶦᶜʸᶜˡᵉˢ ᵗᵒ ˡᵉᵍˡᵉˢˢ ᶜʰᶦˡᵈʳᵉⁿ. ᴳᵒᵗᵗᵃ ʷᵒⁿᵈᵉʳ ʰᵒʷ ʰᵉ ᵈᵒᵉˢ ᶦᵗ. ᴼʰ. ᴬⁿᵈ ʰᵉʳᵉ'ˢ THE SHOT- IN ONE SHOT! WHAT A BBBBEAUUUUUUTIFUL SHOT! THE SHOT IS SO GOOOOOD! IT’S OVER! KHONJIN HAS WON THE GGGGGAAAAAME”

“Khonjin, you’ve just won. The 4th. Grand slam. Golf tournament. In Africa”

“We have the pepperone pazzi”

“I’m gonna teach you how to speak English. Repeat after me. my unununultra fufulf GYEƎEƎEƎEƎEƎEƎEƎH and my ᶠᵃᵗʰᵉʳ ˢᵘᶜᵏˢ rememberɹǝqɯǝɯᵐᵉᵐᵇᵉʳ thɥthɥʇat one. My fblɟqlɟqɟfblɟqlɟqɟfblɟqlɟqɟ eugh.“                          “ᵉᵃᵗ ᵗʰᶦˢ ˢᵘᶜᵏᵃ”“ʷʰʸ ᶦˢⁿ’ᵗ ˢʰᵃᵈ ʰᵉʳᵉ””ʸᵉᵃʰ!”“ᵍᵒ”“NOW THIS OUGHTA STOP THAT PIECENJAHDNKSLCJBHJBJSJBFSEHJABHJ”

“I ain't gunna play cards with some bitchy fishy tryna play with the sharks, so how about you grab yourself a towel and get out the pool.“

“But like an elephant on 9/11, I never forget”

“WHERE’S MY SLICE OF PIEZZA”

“ʸᵒᵘ’ʳᵉ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵉᵛᵉⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ʳᶦᵍʰᵗ ᵛᵒᶦᶜᵉ ᵃᶜᵗᵒʳ ᵗʰᵉ ᶠᵘᶜᵏ ᵃʳᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ᵈᵒᶦⁿᵍ”

“We’re not going to Six Flags. We’re going on a hit.”

“If I a-were a target... Where would I hide?”

“How we supposed to- wait”

“IIIII’VE GOT THE NET” “TAAAAAKE THIIIIIIIIS” “Oh my God” “FINALLY. I can return... to Kingda Ka”

“Some people want to make it their own way, but I like to make it the Gay way”

“Dear Diary. Today I’ve decided to stop wasting my time with habits that just are fucking dumb.”

“Dear Diary. Gino is Gino.”

“The graphics look like they were drawn by a four year old. With the talents of Pablo Picasso. In his prime. Which is what I would have said, if I liked the graphics. Which I do. Not.” “Fascinating.”

“And that’s why I give this game a five out of five. Billion. It fucking su-”

“Gino. Touch this bow~” “I’m- I’m not touching that bow.” “How about- eh~" *Gino gets a bow* “I knew it! It’s a bow that makes bows. We can sell them for four dollars a piece. Cold hard cash. Or credit.”

“HOW MAY I HELP YOU”

“Alright I’m taking a look here, says you’ve been making pizza for five... minutes. Under wage you wrote... A GameCube.” “I know what I want, and I know what I deserve.” “Oh, that’s great, I’m glad you know, but uh- I don’t- I don’t know what the fuck a GameCube is.” “Look here, bossman, these three words are non-negotiable. Super. Monkey. Ball.”

“So it says here your name is Gay Skateboard Man?” “YEEEEEEEUS *cracks up*”

“Yes, I’m fr- *clears throat* America. I am from America.”

“NEGADAD.”

“RULING THE GALAXY.”

“OH SHIT O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0″

“Why are you after a baby, you psychopath?!” “Alright you wanna know so bad? The baby stole my gun.”

“What was so important that you had to leave your gun?! Outside?! For anyone to take?” “This frisbee.”

“heY freD. it’S mE, yogI BEƎEƎEƎEƎEƎEƎ“

“woof woof bark bark BARNEY MY PUEBLOS”

“I knew you would sneak in through the pipe, SO I TURNED MY BASE INTO A GIANT PIPE!”

“Who taught you how to cook? Papa John? Or as you call him. Daddy.”

“HOW DO I GET TO THE INTERNET?!”

“Gino, you didn’t tell me that CrabCrab was a Crab!”

“PSYCHIIIIIC net”

“Have you thought of picking up garbage? And selling i-*cracks up*”

“Khonjin! there’s a crazy penguin prize!”

“backetball is my middle name”

“I’ve learned all the racial slurs in existence. And I will recite them now.”

“Gay Spaghetti Cheeeeeef~ is back”

“Ultimately Cory had to be evacuated for safety. He later opened a Quiznos to moderate success.”

[Gino says the fucking N-word] “WHAT” “Get your Bobby Childs™ brand Bobby Childs™ T-shirt!”

“Hello welcome to Fratelliano’s pizza would you like to purchase WinRAR”

“Send in the missiles.” “Oh yes sir absolutely coming right up”

(in not even close to Gino’s voice) “Khonjin I just remembered I don’t know how to sing Amore and I’m not Italian”

[firesidefantasy]

ELIAS: THE FAMILY

for week one of @yourocsbackstory‘s ‘your OC background weeks’

“Why can’t you be more like your brother?”

Elias looked up from his book just as it was sent flying. He watched it hit the ground, pages creasing and tearing against the carpet. His lip trembled ever so slightly. “Because there’s already one of him, there’s- there’s no point in me being him as well, then I would be a clone and- and then there would be no point in me existing.”

His dad scoffed. “There’s already no point in you existing if you’re gonna stay locked up in this room all the time.”

Elias scrambled to pick his book up, blinking away the tears while his face was turned away. He curled his fingers around the spine and smoothed his hands against the creased pages. “I’m- I’m not locked in here. There’s no lock. I’m not-”

“Alright, alright,” he snarled. The book was snatched from Elias’ shaking hands and the man shoved him back down to the carpet, sneering at the sight of him curling in on himself. “You’re pathetic. Go outside with your brother. Toughen up. Then you can have your book back.”

Elias clutched onto his sweater and stayed curled in a ball until the sound of a slamming door rang through the room and the vibrations shook the floor beneath him. He scratched at his cheek where the starched carpet had rubbed against it and scrambled up to his feet. The books on his bookshelf called out to him, but Elias ignored them and slipped on a pair of shoes instead. 

The stairs shook beneath him as he bounded down to the kitchen. There, his mother stood over the stove, cooking up something for dinner that he was sure to hate the taste of. His father sat in the adjoining dining room and made nothing more than a faint sneering sound at the sight of Elias heading outside. He tugged on a dark green jacket and ignored his father as best he could. 

“Icarus?” Elias called, tugging the door safely shut behind him. He stepped out into the front garden and wandered down to where his brother was playing.

“What?”

The boy stepped forward and kicked the football towards his brother. Elias watched as it sailed right past him and into the bushes. 

“Dad said I had to play with you.”

Icarus sighed.

“Dad’s an idiot.”

Elias shrugged and wrapped his arms around himself. It was cold outside, even though it was the middle of summer. Icarus was stood in shorts and a tee shirt that showed off the muscles and tanned skin that Elias lacked. The boy stood taller and more confidently and, although they were identical in every way, they couldn’t have been more different if they’d tried. Elias shivered in his sweater and jacket and looked up at his brother pitifully.

“Teach me how to play?”

Icarus crossed his arms over his chest. “You understand nuclear physics but you don’t understand the rules of football?” He tapped Elias’ chin as he passed him to collect his ball from the bush behind. “That makes sense.”

“I don’t understand nuclear physics-”

“Uh huh.”

“And football is far more complicated than physics. I understand the premise, but I don’t understand how you do it. I understand that I need to kick the ball into the goal, but I don’t understand how I’m meant to do that. Physics is just books and thinking. Football is a whole other headache. And one that paracetamol doesn’t fix, at that.”

Icarus chuckled. His voice was deeper and his laughter more pronounced. He slapped his brother over the back of the head as he walked past. “You are way over thinking this. You’re a fourteen year old boy. Football is in your blood.”

“Apparently not.”

“Don’t think. Just do,” Icarus instructed. He set the ball down and kicked it towards his brother. Elias stepped towards it and let it stop by his feet. “Good. Now kick it back to me.”

Elias screwed his face up in concentration and kicked the ball. It went flying, his face stretching into a grin when he realised that he’d actually kicked it. Until it kept flying, and soaring, right past Icarus and over the neighbours fence. 

Icarus groaned and Elias’ shoulders slumped in defeat.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Icarus growled.

“I’ll- I’ll just uh- I’ll go,” Elias stuttered. He stumbled back away from his brother and dashed out into the streets. Images of his father’s fury lashed out on his mind and he couldn’t wipe the thought that Icarus looked exactly the same when he was mad. 

Elias ran through the empty streets of a village void of life. The sound of his footsteps hitting the ground was soon accompanied by the sound of rain hitting even harder. Elias tugged the hood of his jacket over his head and ducked into a local shop. It sold just the essentials; milk, bread, a newspaper or two. Elias picked out a copy of The Daily Mail and started leafing through it. Fourteen was old enough to know that The Daily Mail was propaganda crap, regardless of what his father thought, but it was interesting. Everything was interesting to Elias - except perhaps football. And cricket. There was nothing interesting about cricket. Or golf.

“Oi, kid,” a deep voice barked from behind. Elias shot round in fright and blinked at the man with big, round eyes. “Buy it or get out. No youths loitering.” He tapped at a sign plastered against the counter. Elias thought for sure that Icarus must have had something to do with that.

“Yes, sir. Sorry sir,” Elias muttered. He looked down at his feet and turned to put the paper back. He hurried to get out of the store and away from the glares of the owner, walking until a couple of shelves were between the two of them. Then he noticed a packet of Doritos and some sour cream and his stomach grumbled in recognition of how hungry he was. A stack of magazines were piled just beside them and Elias’ heart and mind both jumped at the titles. 

He’d sworn he wouldn’t do this anymore. Not now that Dad was getting paid again. But the owner was an asshole, and the food at home was crap, and what could one more time hurt anyway? It wasn’t like he was being violent or robbing a bank.

Elias stuffed a packet of Doritos up his jacket and slipped a pot of sour cream into his pocket. As he left the store, eyeing the corners of the roof as he went, he reached out and snatched a magazine from the rack and stuck it next to the Doritos. 

He nodded goodbye to the owner as he emerged from behind the shelf and walked by the counter. Elias bumped into a crisp stand as he passed and several packets tumbled to the floor. The owner growled at him and rushed past to sort them all out, attention diverted just long enough for Elias to snatch a plastic bag from behind the counter.

Elias beelined for the door and rounded the corner. He put the Doritos and the magazine into the bag and just kept walking. Adrenaline coursed through his body and brought a big grin back to his face. How could stealing be bad when it felt so good?

By the time Elias returned home, his father was in a much better mood and Icarus had his ball back. Dinner was spoilt by his stomach full of Doritos - but how good was half-cooked chicken and beans really going to be anyway?

Elias excused himself early and snuck upstairs to finish leafing through his magazine. Pictures of stars and planets and galaxies had him enthralled until Icarus came up to bed.

“How did you pay for that?” Icarus asked. He sat down on the edge of the bed, the dip in his mattress drawing Elias’ attention away from the article. “Did mum give you money?”

Elias kept his eyes trained on the pages. “No.”

“Then how did you pay for it?”

His eyes flickered up to Icarus’ for barely a second, just long enough for the piercing guilt to shine through. Icarus hummed and nodded his head.

“Atta boy.” He messed up Elias’ hair and strode over to his own bed. “At least you can do something right.”

Elias shuffled down and hid his smiling face behind the magazine.

How could stealing be wrong when it felt so right?

tag list: @livingthelovelylife, @commasinsidequotes, @4kidsopfan, @thatworldinverted, @livvywrites @ravenpuffwriter @the-writer-turned-procrastinator @zevranwrites @lulumajestix @sapphicsyn @crypticsx @worldbuildingwren @dove-actually @igotablankpage​ @booksteastories @heldinhishands @faesongwrites, @wherearethecrabs @idreamonpaper @notquitenovelist

[eldritchsurveys]

573.

When was the last time you had a Poptart? >> I don’t remember, I stopped liking Pop-Tarts a long time ago.

Do you like hot chocolate? >> No.

Where do you buy gasoline? >> I don’t buy gasoline.

Who made you laugh the hardest today? >> No one.

Who was the last person to promise you something, and what was it? >> I don’t remember the last time anyone promised me anything.

Would you ever jump into a fire to save your bestfriend? >> I don’t have one, but I really can’t imagine jumping into a fire to save someone at all. Not to say that I never would, because I don’t know what the future holds -- I just can’t imagine it.

Do you have a callus from writing too much? >> No.

What was the last thing you failed at? >> I don’t remember.

Who is someone you've made a bad first impression on? >> *shrug*

What's the worst thing you've ever done? >> *shrug*

Can you use chopsticks correctly? >> I can use them successfully.

What was the last movie you watched on TV? >> The last movie I watched at home was Rebel Without a Cause.

Who is your best guy friend? >> ---

Do you think walruses are cute? >> Not really.

What is the correct plural form of platypus? >> Platypuses does just fine.

When was the last time you used a glue stick? >> I don’t remember.

What is your favorite form of transportation? >> The subway.

Who was the last person to sign off without messagin back to you? >> ---

Do you read cereal boxes while you're eating? >> I used to. Now we have Netflix.

What's the last thing you accidentally (or purposely) burnt? >> I haven’t burnt anything on accident in a long time. The last thing I burnt on purpose was incense.

Do you know anyone named Trey? >> No.

What was the name of your last or current math teacher? >> ---

Did you know that there is a Twilight-sponsored Blood Drive named, "Carlisle Would Approve"? Donate blood for Edward? :) >> I didn’t, but ha.

Do you know anyone with a lip piercing? >> Probably.

What did the last tattoo you saw, look like? >> I see one of my own tattoos all the time because it’s on the back of my hand and my hands are often on a keyboard. It’s a Mannaz rune.

Do you own any hair ribbons? >> No.

When was the last time you curled your hair with a curling iron? >> ---

Do your fingertips hurt when you type for a long time? >> No. My fingertips are very used to typing.

Do you know anyone with a green bookbag? >> Maybe???

Do you like colorful skinny jeans? >> They’re cool, but I likely wouldn’t wear them. I like my basic black. But I think I’d wear a pair of galaxy-print ones, if I had them.

What was the last reason you were disappointed at someone? >> I don’t remember.

What's your favorite Michael Jackson song? >> I’m not sure I have one.

Do you like "Juicy Couture"? >> No.

Where did you buy your favorite pair of jeans from? >> Old Navy.

When was the last time you wore a white shirt? >> I don’t remember.

Have you ever given birth? >> No.

Doesn't it just sound painful? >> It sure the fuck does.

Did you know that the equivalence of a woman giving birth, is a man peeing out a golf ball? 0_o >> I’ve heard a variety of equivalences like that.

Do you enjoy making out? >> Inworld, I definitely do. Outworld, please no.

What color are your nails painted? >> They’re not.

What's your favorite food to put ketchup on? >> Basically the only food I regularly use ketchup on nowadays is my veggie burgers.