#you would think they figure out a solution to having the only dog in the neighborhood that is going off constantly

[stepfordgoth]

Shout out to the neighbors who are notorious in the neighborhood for having the only dog that barks loudly and constantly, who thought it would be fun today to let their stupid loud ass dog out at 5 am for some reason. You'll never imagine what happened next!

[hedgehog-moss]

Look, friends.

Do you think this is a post about my adorable baby succulents? No. Look harder.

It's about the GIANT HOLE IN MY FENCE that I had to patch up with cardboard.

I can't blame Pampérigouste for this one; the brutish nature of the damage is not consistent with her usual modus operandi. Pampe outsmarts locks like Arsène Lupin; she doesn't charge at fences like a bull who saw a red cloth. This is Pampe Pondering A Fence Problem:

No, the damage to my fence looked a lot more mindless this time. Boorish. Boar-ish. I'm blaming a boar. A deer would have destroyed the whole thing rather than just the lower half. Note that there is not a single tuft of llama wool on the damaged wire mesh.

(Note no.2: the boar's smile was originally meant to be a tusk but it really just looks like a sardonic smile)

I brought some chicken wire to patch up the hole—but there wasn't enough of it. Then it started raining and I felt persecuted and decided to just cover the hole with cardboard and go have my morning coffee and get back to this later.

This is not an Innocent Pampe post; there is no such thing. My temporary cardboard solution lasted 8 to 10 minutes. I'm not sure exactly when she got out, but by the time I went back outside to repair the fence there was a Pampe-shaped hole in the cardboard.

(Not really; she just kind of lifted or ate a corner then wormed her way through the very small opening. I think.) (See, this is how you recognise a Pampe escape: you're not entirely clear on what went down, you just know there was a llama inside and now there is a llama outside.)

It was still raining and I didn't feel like going after her, plus it felt pointless to bring her back in her pasture before the fence was repaired, so I went in the barn to look for my tools and rummage through leftover pieces of previously-destroyed fences, hoping to find something the right size.

Then I heard Pampelune's hyena shriek, aka the llama alarm call. It was followed by:

horrified chicken screams and frantic feather noises; the soundtrack of a violent fox attack

infuriated barking from Pandolf

very loud panicked braying from Pirlouit

basically, chaos.

I ran outside just in time to see Pampe emerging from the woods at a full gallop, pursued by a bear. I didn't immediately identify the animal that was chasing her as the giant dog that he was, because he was running with a weird gait, with his legs going everywhere like he was frolicking at top speed (I now know that this dog is a puppy that has learnt to run just a few months ago, but that didn't occur to me at the time because this puppy is the size of a calf.)

Pampe was running towards the cardboard through which she had escaped and she managed to squeeze through her small corner hole again (I assume—there were trees blocking my line of sight and I only saw her again once she was in the pasture, running for her life along with the other 2 llamas + donkey.) Meanwhile, the dog didn't see the corner hole and tried to power through the cardboard much like a boar, or was carried away by his momentum and didn't brake in time; I don't know. In any case, when I reached him, he was stuck.

My large piece of cardboard was tied to the fence posts and still holding strong, but the middle was a bit soggy with rain and not too solid, so the dog's head went right through it. The rest of his body didn't.

He could have probably finished breaking the cardboard quite easily, but for some reason he instantly gave up. On life. By the time I got there the dog was half-in and half-out of the pasture and he looked defeated. Which made my piece of cardboard look like a mediaeval beheading apparatus with just a hole for the head.

I went to lock an angry Pandolf in the barn and checked on the chickens along the way (ruffled & offended but fine); I was hoping the dog would figure out how to extricate his head from the cardboard in the meantime. He did not. I tried to call him in a friendly tone (from behind) to encourage him to free his head by stepping back, but the concept of taking a couple of steps backwards in order to extract his head from the hole might as well have been advanced engineering. He clearly had no idea where his head was, where his body was, how to make the two a coherent whole again, and he started whining pitifully.

I untied the rope I had used to attach the cardboard to the fence posts, then wriggled the piece of cardboard a bit to try and free the dog's head. The dog was alarmed by the wriggling and took several steps back—but I didn't manage to hold on to the cardboard so it just moved with the dog. He clumsily ran away, taking the cardboard with him, wearing it around his neck like the world's largest cone of shame.

He immediately got stuck between two trees.

I was starting to find the situation hilarious, but the poor dog did not—he lay down and started making sad broken noises like a malfunctioning dog-robot. He didn't look very threatening but he was still a very big (and stressed) dog so I felt a bit wary of touching his head to help him, and decided to run home to get a box cutter. I figured I could easily rid him of most of the cardboard and leave him with just a soggy cardboard collar that would soon fall apart. I heard my landline phone ringing from afar and ran faster, and it was one of my nearest neighbours, the retired lady who lives on the plateau.

"I've been trying to reach you!! I saw your llama in my garden earlier, I was going to give her a little treat—" (she loves Pampe, for some reason) "—but then my dog saw her too."

I know this woman's dog—he's a tiny thing with fragile nerves who thinks the whole world is out to get him, so I asked anxiously, "Did Pampe scare your dog?" and she said "Oh no! Domino is here with me; but I have a new dog. His name is Texas."

I thought of the gigantic puppy currently sobbing in my woods, held prisoner by two trees, a self-inflicted cone of shame and his total lack of reasoning skills.

"Yes", I said. "I've met Texas."

The old lady asked worriedly if he'd scared Pampe ("Il est un peu zinzin" she said—he's a bit crazy. "I wanted to call him Rex, but then I met him and thought—Texas!!") I told her I was pleased with her dog for scaring Pampe, because she needs to learn that her pasture is her only hope for safety in this cold uncaring world and as soon as she steps out of it she returns to her lowly status as a prey animal. Then I ended the phone call because I was worried both about Texas and about the large hole in my fence. Thankfully all my animals were still terrified and hiding far, far away from Texas.

Texas actually managed to free himself before I attempted to cut the cardboard, but he still thought of me as his saviour and was very happy to follow me through the woods back to his owner's place. Before we left I propped up the cardboard against the damaged fence, and despite the hole in the middle no llamas escaped in my absence; I think the whole area still smelled like Texas and fear.

I'll admit I was initially tempted to leave Texas with his head stuck in the cardboard in a more permanent capacity in order to patch the hole in my fence with this amazing anti-Pampe Cerberus. Like this

(I know this artistic rendering makes my llamas look like frightened carrots and my donkey like a bunny but I will not be taking constructive criticism at this time)

[gofishygo]

nikto + reader blurb

notes: mostly fluff, sex mentioned but no explicit scenes, slight body horror (nikto's scars), canon typical violence [mentions], god i love it when characters manage to heal and come to terms with their past and fall in love

honestly hoping n praying that nikto learns to live the softest n slowest life ever after meeting reader.

he's never gotten a day of comfort in his life, not after those interrogations. scared away both women and men in and outside of the military ever since then- face and body already nothing short of brutish and jagged angles, a bulk of muscle and fat that shadowed over every figure, weathered down to a near-macabre sight at the result of warfare. now the right half of his gum is exposed, torn apart by shrapnel and knife carvings that dragged across his face. sliced-off nostrils, yellow teeth poised at the world that had wronged him like a vulture preparing to feast- it was his unfortunate charm, the one that left him so often kicked out of brothels and whispered about in bars and revered in the barracks, smoking freely without disturbance in places where such had been outlawed years ago. of course he sees you- all keen and watching innocently, so starry eyed that it seems to blind you from his nature.

nikto would look down at his hands and see them as none further than machines. structured with bone and flesh to take down targets, but a puppet to the whims of the other voices that thrived only in his head. he was no more than the manifestation of his disorders, only set to take down the corpses that kortac had pointed at, the ones that kortac claimed to have wronged him.

and then you truly slip into his life, all doe-eyed and star-crossed. he thinks its none other than blasphemy, some sort of sick joke when you practically glue to him at the coffee shop, fixed on the crossword puzzles between his calloused hands. prodding around and occasionally chirping answers, some curious, but unfortunate, little thing that ended up right between his jaws. and he tries to spit you out, brush you off- your greetings at bars, parks, streetsides, alleyways none other than ignored with cold eyes and a masked face. but your laugh, sweet words- it trickles between cracks, melts the solute of stone, and soon enough, you're in his bed at seven am, tucked under his arm. he'd given you what you've wanted; held your body as gently as he had the ability to, growled some praise in your ear, let you sob into the pillows.

so he doesn't expect it when you show up at his door once again, oh-so-lovely smile on your face. certainly even more surprised when you keep coming, and cant deny the way his head goes a little fuzzy when he sees the notes you leave while he's in deployments, how you fold his sheets and put some flowers in a vase you'd bought that rested on his kitchen countertop. he leaves the door unlocked now, gives you the keys, and lets you in when the nights are cold.

you teach him things- how to tell if he's dreaming. learns to see his hands as more than accessories to murder, uses them as indicators to split his reality from the ones owned by his voices. you're teaching him how to make coffee and trim flowers and all he is learns is how to look at the world without staining it with blood. but it's okay- you help steady his shaking hands, hold the kettle of boiling water with him, and the weeks eventually unfurl into years.

and now, he wakes up next to you every morning, stays in bed cuddling with you until you reluctantly have to shove him away because although he's retired you still have a job, and he waters the plants and feeds the dogs outside, waiting only until you and the furry critters are well away to smoke. but it is not out of stress, no longer to rid himself of his heads, and more of a bad habit now. and the hole that the lack of conflict has left in him is so filled with you and your smile and your patience, with taking care of the garden, making coffee, helping with your paperwork. the never ending spurr of his voices still keeps him up at night sometimes, leaves him twitching. but it allows him to watch you fall asleep, feel your pulse under his cupped hand, even through the throbbing pain.

this is what life is meant to be like, maybe. taking off his mask and unbuckling the straps so he can feel your lips against what was left of his.

[faeriekit]

Ghosts of Those We Once Knew

a phic phight fill for @silverwing013

Warnings for: implied child abuse, accidental death, dead parents

**💚**

“Oh yeah?! And what are you going to do about it?!” Aunt Alicia snapped into the phone. 

There was a sound on the other end of the line, but Danny couldn’t make it out all the way. There was another solution, but it was…risky; it would require going into his aunt’s bedroom— a well known, forbidden domain— to pick up the only other phone hooked up to the landline. 

…There was no other time to find out what Aunt Alicia was putting off. It had to be worth the risk. Danny crept up the worn carpeting of the stairs, hoping that his sneakiness would hold up to Alicia’s discerning eyes and ears. 

Her bedroom was dark. Carpeted. …Pink. 

Whatever. Danny took a deep breath, lifted the phone off the hook, and tried not to breathe too loudly into the mouthpiece.

“You have no right to keep Daniel in your dismal, miserable, isolated hovel,” someone shouted on the other end. Danny had never heard this voice before. He sounded like someone around Dad’s age, maybe? Maybe a little…smoother, despite the blistering anger coming through the line. “You live with no human contact for nine months out of the year. You speak to no one. Do you— is Daniel even enrolled in a school? Did you get any sort of educational provisions for him whatsoever?” 

“What, so he can get cocky and blow himself up in the garage like his parents?” Alicia snapped. Danny had to clap a hand to his mouth to hide his gasp of dismay. 

“You know full well that punishing your sister’s son by restricting his access to an education and basic human companionship is not a solution to your grief for your sister. You are out of your mind.”

Aunt Alicia’s voice got low. Aunt Alicia’s voice got mean. She sounded like how she looked when Danny had fumbled the water pail from the well or stepped two steps too close to the rhubarb patch out back. “Vladmir Masters, you listen here,” Aunt Alicia muttered. “That boy is everything left of my sister in the whole damn world. He is not going anywhere. Do you understand? Not for you to fill his head with her stupid husband’s supernatural hoo-ha, and not for you to snatch up and teach himself how to kill other people the way those two killed each other. Danny stays here. If you ring me up one more time, I’m going to do more than just mail dog crap to the front step of your stupid castle in Wisconsin.”

The phone cut off. It would be an innocuous end to a phone call, except Danny can hear the clatter of plastic cracking on plastic in the downstairs kitchen.

There was a moment of silence.

“Daniel Jackson Fenton, you get your butt in here right now!”

Danny jolted, heart pounding. He—he went downstairs.

Aunt’s Alicia’s lips were pursed, her eyes tight. “What did I tell you about missing all the sticks in the yard? It looks like a wreck!”

Danny felt his breath stick in his throat.

“Well?”

“Yes, Aunt Alicia,” Danny mumbled. He looked down and away. He wasn’t caught out eavesdropping, but…was this any better?

“If those sticks aren’t piled up beside the woodshed for kindling in half an hour, you can kiss your dinner goodbye.”

Danny hadn’t had dinner in three nights. He was very lucky he didn’t need to eat as much as living kids. “…Yes, Aunt Alicia.”

“So?”

…Danny went outside to collect sticks. It took until nightfall to get all the refuse from yesterday’s storm off the ground.

Aunt Alicia ate canned corn and carrots and butchered rabbit with hot sauce for dinner. Danny ate nothing.

Danny went to bed thinking about somewhere else he could go. Mom and Dad were dead—smithereens in the blast that had killed him and brought him back to life simultaneously. Jazz was in the hospital. He had no grandparents. He had no other aunts or uncles other than Aunt Alicia.

…Who was Vladmir Masters?

*

It took two days for Danny to decide to run away.

Or. Well. Fly.

He’d figured that if he wanted to find out who Vladmir Masters was, he’d need an internet connection. His cell had been on the Fenton Fone Plan™ and had been disconnected from the Fenton Family Patented Ghost-free Satellite™ for almost three months now. But, you know…what was a public library for, if not getting information?

The two-day waiting period was mostly just Danny getting his stuff together, making sure he didn’t leave anything behind, finding anything worth stealing…

…There was a picture of Mom with her big hair at graduation, a black robe thrown over her Hazmat suit. Her hair had been so big. Lots of people were beside her, including Dad, and someone with a matching hair stripe. They looked happy.

It didn’t matter that it had been Aunt Alicia’s photo. The picture had gone into his backpack next to Bearbert Einstein and a filched pocket knife.

Mom was Aunt Alicia’s sister, but Madeline Fenton had been his mom.

…Was still his mom.

Would…would always be his mom.

Danny wouldn’t cry. He wasn’t going to cry. Still, the flying and everything was still new to him. It took almost ten minutes to get himself off the ground without floating off willy nilly.

It took another half an hour to remember how to go through walls.

By the time Danny fell (as in actually, literally, leaned up against the wall and then realized he’d not made contact the way he’d expected to) through the house wall, it was almost eight at night. Aunt Alicia was still listening to Prairie Home Companion downstairs on the radio.

Whatever. He was out of there. He was sure he looked crazy—his hair was white, which was almost impossible to hide—but all he had to do was get out of there fast enough that no one connected one teenage runaway with a backpack to Danny Fenton.

It was fine.

It was all going to be fine.

…And if there wasn’t someone who’d help him. Well. Being homeless didn’t sound…so bad…?

…Or maybe he’d just squat in the burnt out ruins of Fentonworks. That sounded fine too.

*

Morning broke. Danny ended up in a tiny town somewhere in Mississippi.

A nice guy at the coffee shop gave him a cup of water and told him where the local library was. A librarian plugged her login details for him on a public computer, and Danny was able to look up one “Vladmir Masters”…

…CEO and owner of DALVco, millionaire, and Green Bay Packers megafan.

Holy crap.

Like… There were hospital wings with his name on them. Charities operating out of his company. Every picture of the man was perfectly taken in perfect lighting with perfect suits and precise smirks and bright-white magazine article paper.

Danny went back up to the librarian. “Do you have any articles on…uh…Vlad Masters?”

The librarian smiled warmly. “Ah, school project?”

“Sure,” Danny lied, milk on his tongue.

Vlad Masters was a self-made millionaire. He lived in a castle in Wisconsin that used to be owned by a dairy empire kingpin. He went to—

Danny read the line again

—He went to the same college as Mom and Dad. The year looked right, too. They might have even graduated in the exact same year. If only Danny could still check Dad’s college ring in the bottom of their junk drawer.

Wisconsin. Vlad Masters lived in Wisconsin.

…Danny was really lucky he was never all that hungry anymore.

Danny got another cup of water at the coffee shop, washed his face in the bathroom, and got ready to fly another night.

He was no sextant, but he could probably figure out how to get to Wisconsin after a couple of hours of flying, and a little time to gauge the sky.

It would be easy.

…Danny’s white-topped, pale face stared back at him from the restroom mirror.

It had to be. It would have to be easy.

*

So, a cheese castle looked a lot like a regular castle.

Danny squinted up at the stonework. Nah, that looked like…a castle. That being said, it looked more specifically like the castle he was looking for—the one that had been featured in Vlad Masters’s house tour in Architecture Daily magazine two years ago.  

Same…roof bits. Same big door. Danny swallowed. Same…tower? Were there better words for these? There were definitely better words for all the tricky stone bits in the castle.

Whatever. Danny was praying that the man was actually home today, as opposed to flying across the country on some kind of business trip. Rich people did business trips, right?

Danny floated up to the front door. There was no doorbell.

…Danny bit his lip. Okay. So there was no doorbell. There was a very large, brass door knocker. It looked kind of like a big monster face, with a ring held in its teeth.

The knocker was just high enough off the ground that Danny had to float to get there. Lifting it was a struggle.

When it knocked, the whole door buzzed with sound.

Danny waited.

…He waited.

And…Danny waited.

No one came.

Danny picked at the skin of his lip. What if he just…went in?

Like. It was a big house. Maybe Vlad Masters just hadn’t heard him at all? Maybe he was just…in the basement or something…?

Danny paced midair. On one hand. He’d come all this way. He had to follow through. He had to see if there was…something. Anything. Anything at all—anything that could possibly connect Masters to his family.

Any connection that wasn’t Aunt Alicia would be worth breaking and entering.

On the other hand. Home invasion was and would remain illegal.

Danny grimaced.

He…stuck his head through the door. 

There was a hallway on the other side. A little end table. A guest book. 

…Okay. Danny slipped through the door. He was breaking and entering now— or at least…entering. 

Inside was dark. Gloomy. Comfortable, sure— lots of soft furnishings, curtains, couches, pillow, lounging things— but very…opaque in atmosphere. 

He was glowing, he noticed. That probably was pretty bad on the “trying not to get caught” scale. 

There was no one upstairs. Danny drifted through room after empty room and up into floor after empty floor. There was a kitchen, and the food therein were largely preserved items. There was nothing in the fridge. 

Danny’s stomach cramped. There was no one here. 

…Maybe he should look downstairs? 

The castle got colder the further down he went. The windows that at least allowed the minimal light that escaped through the tree cover in the castle vanished. The only light left was Danny. 

Danny floated down deeper. 

There were doors made of metal in a long, stone hallway. Each had different numbers on them. Danny followed the rows of doors.

There were wires on the floor. They were organized by color and bound by little ties, until they weren’t, and Danny eventually ran out of tangled webs of red and blue plastic to follow. 

They ended at a closed door. 

Danny hesitated. He poked his head through. 

On the other side was a ghost. 

Danny jerked back. He’d— he clapped his hand over his mouth. That was—! And sure, Danny was something like that now, but he’d never seen—!

He should leave. Danny should leave. 

Danny barely made it three doors down. 

Going somewhere? something asked him. Danny shivered. 

The ghost appeared on his left in ethereal white, black hair pulled behind him in some sort of half-halo. Unlike Danny, who was in something like half-hazmat, half-hoodie, the ghost wore a long, glowing labcoat, appropriate PPE beneath. 

Danny’s breath fogged up in his mouth. He flinched. “Sorr—” he tried. “Sorry, I’m sorry. I’m not supposed to be here.”

The ghost looked at him with bright red eyes. Danny floated a few steps back. Spying, are you?

Danny shook his head. “No!! No, I just— I was looking for— I wasn’t spying! I’m sorry! I didn’t know you li— died here! I’ll leave!” 

The ghost’s head tilted. For a second, Danny thought that he was going to throw a punch. And then—

You’re already here, the ghost pointed out, and opened a door. Beyond it was…something similar to a doctor’s office. An examination table with the paper on it. One of those blood pressure cuffs, attached to a printer for the readout. A sink. Sundry tongue depressors. You may as well consent to be helped. 

“...Helped with what?” Danny asked nervously, fingers flexing. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand.”

The ghost hummed— not in the way voices hummed, but in the way high voltage sang in distant powerlines. You are newly formed, aren’t you? Most can tell a ghost’s nature from its presence alone.

Danny looked away. “Um. You know. You might be the first ghost I’ve ever met.” 

The ghost’s feet almost touched the ground. It stared down at him. It was taller than he was, and when it stared, it made Danny want to run away. 

…Truly, the ghost asked(?), and it took Danny a second to realize it was a question. 

“Maybe I died a little recently…” Danny tried, trailing off into a mumble. Was there a right answer to this? 

…I see. That would make this check-up more urgent, then. Might I encourage you to come this way? 

Danny followed him into the room. 

It felt… It looked and felt exactly like any other doctor’s appointment, excepting that the doctor involved in the process had blue skin and fangs and a hairstyle that defied gravity. The ghost still wore gloves and didn’t poke him or prod him too hard, though, so that was a bonus.

Danny got his pulse taken. (None.) Danny got his lungs checked. (Not breathing.) Danny got his resonance? looked at? Whatever that was? It was a big scanny thing that looked like an X ray and took pictures of his chest. 

The readings were real pretty, whatever they were; the whole film print was taken up with splotches of white and clear blue. It kind of shimmered when Danny tilted his head. 

You’re quite powerful for a newly formed ghost, the ghost offered, overlooking papers Danny couldn’t quite see on his clipboard. It flipped through once. Twice. You’re clearly not attached to your place of death, so that’s not why… Are you aware of any compulsions to follow an Obsession yet…?

A ghostly obsession? Danny knew what that was— it was one of his parents’ theories on why ghosts persisted after death! Was it was true? 

“Um,” Danny said, unsure. He hadn’t…had he? “Not that I know of?”

The ghost paused. It clicked its pen. It marked something down on Danny’s chart. Interesting.

Ominous. 

May I quickly test something? the ghost asked, looking up at Danny. It would only take a moment. If it does not work, there will be no other side effects other than mild discomfort and an activated flight response. 

Danny shifted. The paper crackled underneath him. “...Does it hurt?” 

No.

The ghost added nothing more. 

Danny’s…head jerked up and down. It was fine. It would be fine. 

The ghost’s hand circled his wrist. Its touch burned like fire. 

And then light, like how Danny burned away one form for another—

—Danny was left on the table, no longer weightless, no longer breathless. He was flesh. He was human again.

Vlad Masters stared back at him. 

…Huh. 

Mr. Masters— Vlad?— licked dry lips, staring at Danny, whose wrist he still held. Danny…didn’t know if he could move. Danny didn’t know if he knew how to move. 

“...Daniel?” Mr. Masters’s voice cracked. His eyes moved up and down Danny’s body, from his raggedy hair to his dirt-stained clothes to his beat-up shoes. “Daniel Fenton?”

Danny winced. “It’s just Danny,” he offered hoarsely. His throat bobbed. “You…know me?” 

Mr. Masters moved his grip to Danny’s hand, apparently moved to tears. Without the red in his eyes, he just looked…human enough. “Daniel— Danny, how did you— Are you dead? What happened?” 

Danny felt the weight of everything push down on him again, as if it had ever let up on him since the portal incident. Mom and Dad’s funerals. Jazz in the emergency room. Being resuscitated by the EMTs. Getting shipped out to Aunt Alicia’s house without warning. 

“House blew up.”

That was succinct enough, right?

The man’s face turned devastated. “I heard— I’m so, so sorry. I’m so sorry, Danny.”

…It was more concern than anyone had shown in a long time. His eyes were wet before he knew it. When he wiped his face with his sleeve, the dampness was enough to leave little streaks of mud on his face— and, ugh, he felt filthy. 

“It’s okay,” Danny lied, because it wasn’t. He pressed his sleeve to his eyes. “It’s…you know my parents?”

Mr. Masters took a deep, surprised breath. “Yes. We…weren’t in contact after we graduated from school together, but Jack always… He asked me by email to be your godfather, right before you were born. I said yes, but I have no idea if he ever filed the paperwork.” 

Oh. 

…Oh. 

There were clearly more secrets here. Mr. Masters was a ghost, and so was Danny. He lived in a giant castle that was clearly haunted, which was made obvious by the owner. He was Danny’s godfather, and Danny had never once met him. 

And he wasn’t Aunt Alicia. 

Danny sucked the spit off of his teeth with his tongue. “Can I stay here?” 

Mr. Masters made a wounded, desperate expression. “I would rather you did.” 

“Can you teach me how to be a ghost?”

The man persevered through what were clearly heavy feelings. “...If I must.” 

“Can I have dinner?” was Danny’s final question. “Like. On the regular?” 

There was a second where Mr. Masters’s eyes went red. The castle suddenly felt taut with anticipation. Fury crawled on Danny’s skin. He could feel the pressure digging in search of some way to burrow into his flesh.

And then it was gone. 

“Of course you can. You are a growing boy.”

Danny smiled shyly, barely showing his teeth. When he smiled for real in the mirror, he had fangs. It was better not to. “Cool.”

Mr. Masters nodded. And when Danny looked down at the floor, he changed his grip so that Danny could hold his hand and hop down like normal. 

“It will be alright,” Mr. Masters promised quietly. It seemed to be just as much for him as it was for Danny. “Or…I’ll take care of it. Whatever happens. You’re not alone, Danny.” 

Danny had been alone for almost half a year. It had felt like forever. “Thanks.” He sniffed. 

They walked upstairs from the basement laboratory together, in a way Mom and Dad never would again. 

[inneedofsupervision]

Sweet Tooth

When Eddie came to the park, he would have never guessed he would be home hours later and possibly have found a way to keep his alien symbiote co-inhabitant from needing to eat human brains. Did he find the solution for their rather unconventional diet, or was it just wishful thinking on his part? An idea of how else Venom could get his claws on his all-beloved phenethylamine (without Eddie having to use three cups of mouthwash the next day).

(Read on Ao3)

"Eddie?"

"Hm?"

"We want to eat the tiny humans."

"We've talked about this, V."

Eddie puts his dame on G6.

A good move.

Pleased with his choice, the journalist grabs for the steaming paper cup. A gust of wind blows colored leaves throughout the small park, covering the patches of green and the wet paths. It's rather chilly. A few meters next to him, a family is at a playground, and the three children are screaming and laughing as they run around.

"There is only so much chocolate can do to quell our hunger, Eddie."

"Guess you must stay hungry then, as I won't change my mind about this."

Eddie holds the coffee between both hands, trying to warm his fingers. A low growl rings in the deeper corners of his consciousness, but the man ignores the sounds inside his head. The sun breaks through the clouds, and strays of light fall onto the lithic chess table.

"They are mingy. Who would notice one or two of them missing?"

Eddie shakes his head while Venom's dusky voice speaks inside his mind. He raises the coffee towards his lips as an onyx-colored tentacle slithers from his sleeve. Like a snake, it creeps over the checkered table, its thinning end straightening up only to wind around the head of a pawn. It pulls until the figure has moved onto a black field.

Eddie frowns into his cup.

Checkmate.

"Please, Eddie. I can already feel their small, undeveloped brains melt on my tongue."

A spray of coffee bursts out over the chessboard, followed by violent coughing. Another tentacle emits from Eddie's body, this time out of his shoulder, knocking him on his back while the man is busy trying to get the hot liquid out of his trachea.

"Okay, that's it," Eddie says, still couching, face slowly regaining color.

"Enough fresh air for today. Time to bring you back under lock and key."

"You are a sore loser, Eddie. I won, and as a prize, I will get a snack of my choice~"

Venom almost purrs, his voice rumbling and sending shivers down his host's spine. Eddie shakes his head with a click of his tongue. Living with Venom was like getting a young dog who grew out of the puppy stage. Every rule gets questioned, sometimes several times a day. They have discussed when, where, and who Venom gets to eat. And even these rules have nuances. Lots of them, for the sake of Eddie not being brought behind bars after being linked a little too quickly with another headless body turning up in some dumpster near their neighborhood.

He tries to be understanding.

Eddie is aware of the alien and his needs, knowing there is no way around the Klyntar to consume brains sooner or later, sensing the growing hunger through their bond. But even he runs out of patience, discussing with a tantrum-throwing symbiote why the latter cannot eat children for the second time in thirty minutes.

"This isn't a Subway, Buddy. No snacks to choose from."

The man throws the tissue and empty cup into a garbage bin, shoveling his hands deep into his pockets. It is getting cold pretty fast now.

"Pussy."

"Yeah, yeah. See how you will like it when I freeze to death, and you're just a slimy little blob without a host," grumbles Eddie with a roll of his eyes.

"What did you just call us!?"

"For such a superior form of living, your hearing is quite bad, isn't it?"

"You will take this back, or I will devour your liver. You hear me, Eddie? Painfully and slow, and then I will crack open your head and feast on your brain while keeping you alive as long as possible."

Eddie hums without really paying attention.

"I believe it when I see it."

He wasn't sure when he stopped shaking in fear at the violent threats the alien liked to dish out whenever something didn't go his way. He twitches at the tentacle that pulls at his ear, swatting the offending appendage away.

"Why are you suddenly interested in eating children, anyway?"

Eddie halts in his steps. That sounds messed up. He begins walking again, quickening his pace, and leaves the playground and park behind, ignoring the dark rumble of protests from the alien, who moves restlessly under his skin. He blinks as his hood gets pulled over his head, furrowing his brows before the first raindrops hit the pavement. Venom flutters at the unspoken feeling of gratitude, drinking up the emotion before settling around his neck like a midnight-colored scarf. A small head pokes out from under his hood. Milky eyes stare up at the man. A tongue darts out, licking over the front row of razor-sharp teeth.

"Their brains smell delicious."

Eddie grimaces, not noticing how his expression causes Venom's grin to widen at his obvious distaste.

"Their brains smell delicious?"

He's whispering as he hurries up the stairs to his apartment, preventing his neighbors from thinking he's crazy, more than they already do.

"The quantity of some hormones they produce is beyond what I've experienced from grown humans."

"Maybe because they have more fun than adults?" throws Eddie his thought into the room, pulling his jacket off and dumping it over a chair.

"Aren't you after dopamine and stuff?"

"They certainly have more fun than you."

"Well, being an adult isn't all pleasure and enjoyment, V. We can't all be playing around and eating chocolate the whole day," counters Eddie lightheartedly as he opens his laptop. He rubs a hand over his face with a sigh, the half-finished article plopping out like a silent warning. How could Eddie possibly have fun running late on a deadline? Glancing at his notebook, he skims over the information he gathered before his eyes flick back to the screen. His fingers hover motionless over the keyboard, and the seconds pass while Eddie stares at the document. With a deep sigh, he pushes the chair back and stands up.

"You have never produced such an amount of tasty hormones, Eddie."

He shudders when the alien roams around inside of him, not even trying to be inconspicuous about it.

"What are you doing there, Buddy?"

Eddie gulps slightly, the hairs on his whole body straightening up. It feels like his organs are flipped over like stones on a beach to glance under them to see if something of interest hides under them. Venom seems to work his way from his legs upwards until Eddie panics. He can feel Venom coming straight toward his head, and although he is well aware that Venom is always in his head, the thought of the Symbiote searching for something in there leaves him a little panicked.

"V?"

His voice cracks, and he coughs to overplay his embarrassment, but his nervousness doesn't lessen as he doesn't receive an answer from the Symbiote.

"Venom?"

The movement doesn't stop, passing his lungs and working its way up his esophagus. When reaching past the Adam's apple, Eddie feels fear creeping up.

"Venom, stop!"

"What?"

Eddie jumps, the back of his knees hitting the couch and sending him falling onto it as Venom's head pops out of his chest to look at him.

"Christ, give a guy some warning next time. What are you even doing?"

"Checking you out, Eddie."

Eddie cannot hold back a laugh at that.

"I'm sure that's not what you mean. What exactly are you checking for?"

The serpent-like head tilts slightly.

"You don't produce as much hormones as the tiny humans. I had to check if your organs are defective."

Eddie raises an eyebrow. He was pretty sure his organs were okay. Deciding to humor his friend, he folds his hands together and leans forward.

"And, what are your results, Doc?"

White eyes narrow at the title. The head wanders up and down, and Eddie feels the rest of Venom shifting under his skin, reaching out into every cell of his body. The feeling stops soon, and Venom licks his teeth again, reminding the human of a snake tasting the air.

"You are not dying."

Eddie huffs and lets himself fall back onto the couch.

"Thanks, pal. I haven't been worried about that until now. What hormones are we talking about, though?"

Venom's head bends down. His eyes scrutinize the human while searching for sarcasm. Seeing his host being serious about the question, he straightens up, hovering over the man.

"Adrenalin, dopamine, phenethylamine."

A sudden thought overcame him.

"Does that mean you scuff down brains for neurotransmitters inside?"

"And because they taste good."

The reporter scoots to the side to avoid getting hit by the to-the-ground-extending string of saliva running down from a corner of Venom's mouth. Eddie observes with a pinched expression how the string wanders until it hits the floor.

Great.

Now, he can mope the apartment. Eddie shakes his head. Now wasn't the time to think about salvia on the floor. Not after Venom revealed a particular detail of his rather unconventional diet.

"You mentioned feeding off my body before, right?"

The Symbiote's eyes narrow dangerously, and a low growl emits deep within his throat.

"I had no choice, Eddie. We were dying."

Eddie raises his arms in a placating and protective manner, not that it would be much use if Venom decided to jump him for the question. Their first meeting was still a touchy subject. Eddie smiles gently, his voice calm. If he had learned something, it was to not engage in Venom's open provocation if you like not getting your nose broken and healed, only to get it broken again. The handling of Venom called for more finesse as with any other human Eddie had contact with before in his life.

"That wasn't an accusation, V. Just a question."

The hollow snarling ebbs away, and Eddie feels a sigh of relief climbing up his throat. He could do without an angered Venom.

"If my brain produced more hormones, would that mean you need to eat less brains?"

Venom's serpentine head sways back and forth. Eddie watches, slightly fascinated and a little amused, how the tar-colored skin of the Klyntar tightens above the milky-white eyes, a grotesque imitation of a frown.

"It could."

"It could?"

Eddie had hoped for a more profound answer. The less brains he, or rather Venom, had to consume, the better. He really could do without their choice of midnight snacks, and even when the humans they chose were the worst of the worst, there were days Eddie couldn't cope with the thought of having devoured another human.

"You humans all produce different amounts of hormones. It depends on what your tiny brain can offer me, Eddie."

The smile on the reporter's face vanishes to be replaced by a scowl.

"My tiny brain? What does that mean? You know what, it's none of my business. Let's forget about the whole thing."

Eddie crosses his arms in front of his chest. He could not be bothered, continuing to talk about brains and hormones. Venom seems to pick up on his host's change of heart, the black head tilting to the side questioningly.

"Eddie, are you pouting?"

Not in the mood to answer, Eddie averts, hand reaching out of his smartphone to direct his attention to what his oh-so-small and silly brain could rather deal with. Before his fingers could touch the device, a thin tentacle curls around his wrist, successfully pulling his arm back.

The man rolls his eyes. With an exasperated sigh, he focuses on Venom.

"Let go of my arm, V."

The tentacle slithered back, and all hairs on his skin straightened as Venom moved. The Klyntar's head grows, and the part one could call a neck thickens rapidly. In less than a few seconds, Venom has almost entirely built up in front of the human, his massive upper body towering over him.

The pale pink tongue flicked out of his mouth, licking along the row of razor-sharp teeth, accompanied by a hiss.

"What crawled up your ass and died?" commented Eddie dryly. He was too pissed off to be impressed.

The Symbiote bends forward, their foreheads apart by a hair.

"You ever heard of personal space, big guy? Because you're stepping into mine. A little distance would be very much appreciated."

"I am inside you, Eddie. Your personal space belongs to me."

Eddie stares at Venom, and his lips move, but without a sound passing. For the first time today, the man was rendered speechless. Venom continues sizing his host up, tongue flicking through the air.

"Okay. That's a topic for another day," mumbles the man.

"Eddie."

"You like what you see?" jokes the reporter in an attempt to pass off his insecurity. Venom's white eyes lock on him, like a predator targeting its prey. A nervousness flickers somewhere in his stomach area. He had to break the eye contact with the alien manifesting out of his body. His gaze involuntarily moves downwards, Adam's apple setting in motion as they catch sight of the Symbiot's teeth.

One bite and everything would be over.

A hint of anxiety rolls over him as claws settle on either side of his shoulders against the couch, efficiently caging the man and robbing him of any way to escape. Not as if he had a chance, fleeing from an alien that nested inside every cell of his body.

“Good, but not quite what we wanted.”

Eddie's head snaps up, goosebumps spreading across his skin as Venom's voice rings in his head.

“Not the same as the little humans in the park. A certain something is missing.”

Eddie's face hardens as he finally catches on.

“You stupid bastard!” the reporter roars, any fear and panic he had felt replaced by anger and a pinch of shame.

“You scared me on purpose!"

He growls, pointing a finger at the Sybiote, anger burning in his eyes.

"I hope you had fun, 'cause that was the last time. You pull a stunt like this once more, and I swear to God, I'm going to march right up to our neighbor asking for a fucking private concert and turn the volume as high as possible. Then I'm going to collect your gooey alien ass in a jam jar and throw it out into the trash, you heard me?"

It takes a lot for Eddie Brock to lose his temper. His life had been turbulent ever since the thing with the Life Foundation began, and at some point, he began to grow blunt, not getting bothered as quickly as before. Few things get under the reporter's skin, having seen so much.

This time, Venom had pushed it too far.

Eddie tries hard to adjust to living with his Symbiote. He does his best catering to Venom's unusual needs, and how does that damned parasite thank him? Spooking Eddie out of his mind and causing his brain to kick into overdrive to feast on the adrenaline produced as the fear kicked in and, to put a cheery on top, making fun of him. Something in Eddie's voice or even inside his head must have shown how angry and betrayed he felt cause instead of retaliating with a biting remark or a threatening growl, Venom kept silent.

"What? Cat got your tongue? Nothing that the big bad alien wants to say?"

"I am sorry, Eddie."

"I hope you are."

The claws next to his shoulder retreat to offer his host some space. Eddie takes a deep breath, eyes averted from the Sybiote. He had to calm down. Getting angry isn't the solution. The blond already feels shame and guilt, not proud of how he has reacted.

With a sigh, he let a hand run over his face before glancing at Venom.

"I'm sorry too, Buddy."

The Symbiote tilts his head, white eyes narrow as he scrutinizes the human on the couch.

"I overreacted. I won't throw you into the trash."

"I doubt you would have managed. With your measly arms and puny muscles."

While speaking, a tentacle wraps around Eddie's upper body, slithering until it winds around his right arm and squeezing softly to undermine his words.

The corner of Eddie's mouth pulls upwards.

"Asshole."

He gives Venom's chest a playful shove.

Venom's teeth flash as his mouth pulls into an eerie smirk. A tentacle emanates out of his chest where Eddie had touched him and thrusts the human to the side, knocking him with his back onto the couch. Before he could sit up, Venom positioned himself over him, seizing his arms faster than Eddie could mouth "stop" and pushing them next to the side of his head.

"As I said. Puny."

A playful twinkle flickers in the milky white of Venom's eyes, and Eddie rolls his eyes at the smug tone.

"Hardy har. Just wait till I get out of here. I'm going to kick your gooey ass."

"Really? That I would like to witness."

Eddie narrows his eyes, provoked by the words. He tries hard, putting all his strength into his arms, and pushes to get off the couch. To his surprise, Eddie manages to gain space, almost having sat back up when the tentacle from before appears in front of his face. With a frown, the man observes the appendage hover as he pushes forward. Just before he was sitting straight, the tentacle came closer and gently shoved his forehead. Eddie stills, bemused at the action as the tentacle draws closer again, but this time, the push is much stronger. With a shout of surprise, he is back to stare at the ceiling.

"You didn't pay attention," purrs Venom, voice thick with amusement. The tentacle that had pushed him patted his cheek playfully.

"You cheated!" protests Eddie with a laugh, biting at the tentacle. The appendage raises and avoids his attack, only to pinch the tip of Eddie's nose. Venom grins down at the human.

"Even without holding you down, you would be at my mercy, Eddie. Give up."

"You can forget that."

His arms are released. Instead, Venom leans further down, threatening to bury Eddie under his black mass.

"Wait, you don't have to push it, V."

Despite his words of protest, Eddie laughed, knowing Venom wouldn't hurt him.

"Eddie?"

"What?"

Venom straightens and gazes down at the smiling human below. The Symbiote tilts his head, eying his host with growing interest. Eddie raises an eyebrow.

"What's wrong?"

A low purr fills the room from deep within Venom's chest. The Symbiote licks his teeth.

"I want more."

Eddie looks at him questioningly, hands still on Venom's body. The alien runs hotter than he had expected.

"More? More of what exactly?"

Venom bends down until his face hovers only inches apart from his host.

"Hormones, Eddie," Venom's tongue darts out, tasting the air. "You smell almost as tasty as the tiny humans."

Eddie blinks, not having expected that answer.

"Oh," was all he could bring out before a sudden thought occurred, causing warmth to build up inside him. The tips of his ears turn red.

"Eddie, you don't have to be embarrassed. You can admit to having fun."

"Shut your mouth," grumbles the human, red-faced. Gosh, he had fun playing around with Venom like a little kid. He coughs, embarrassed.

"Okay, it's time to stop. Come on, big guy. Let me up."

Venom didn't think about letting his human go. Especially not after Eddie's brain had just begun producing an exquisite cocktail of hormones.

"Explain to me, Eddie, what else is fun to you? Apart from being proven how frail you humans are?"

He looks down at Eddie, who still has being embarrassed written all over his features. Venom does not comprehend why his human felt the need to be ashamed for having fun, but there are many instances in which he doesn't understand Eddie. He might find out someday. But, at the moment, that doesn't interest Venom as he has more pressing matters to care for.

Eddie jumps as something slides under his sleeve. He glances at his arm. One of Venom's tentacles winds around his wrists. It was nothing unusual. Venom tends to appear at random times and slither over his skin. He never got an explanation why the alien did it, and Eddie had dismissed it as one of the Klyntar's quirks and left it at that. The tentacle wanders around but is not purposeful like the other times. It felt as if it was searching for something.

"Ehm, V? Care to explain?" asks the man, nodding towards his arm.

"I don't understand it, Eddie," growls Venom, eyes dangerously narrowed, his voice rumbling deep through Eddie's body. The Symbiote eyes him with his head tilted, face pulled into a scowl. Venom seems genuinely confused, and even if Eddie found it slightly amusing to see the other planless, he felt a little pity for the Klyntar.

"What's going on, Buddy? Come on, talk to me. Maybe we can figure it out together."

"I'm mimicking what the tiny humans did, but you are not reacting. Your body is fully functional, and your brain is not defective."

The reporter blinks, thrown off for a moment.

"Okay, about what exactly are we talking here?"

"The tiny humans in the park, they did something which spiked their hormones, but when I do it to you, you are not reacting."

It is Eddies turn to tilt his head in question. "I can't follow, Buddy. Maybe you can describe what the children did?"

Venom growls, a sign of him growing frustrated, but still describes what he had witnessed.

"They touched each other," the tentacle that had winded its way around Eddie Arm travels over his shirt towards the middle of his body before hovering over his stomach. "Here. And then they began laughing."

It takes a moment before it finally clicks.

"I see. Now I know what you are talking about, V," says Eddie with an amused laugh.

"They probably tickled each other."

"Tickled?"

The way Klyntar emphasized the word shows that he had never heard it before.

"The action itself is tickling, and someone who gets tickled and is affected is called ticklish."

"And if someone gets tickled, they laugh?"

Eddie nods, quite proud of how quickly Venom caught on. The Symbiote got quicker with how things on Earth worked every day.

"It's an involuntary reaction of our body towards a certain kind of touch," he continues explaining.

"There are only guesses why one has to laugh when being tickled. Most believe it to be a defensive reaction. Most people are ticklish at parts of the body that need the most protection, for example, the stomach, under the arms, and the neck, but there are more. Where and how ticklish someone is differs from person to person."

"It can't hurt you?"

"Not really. If one overdoes it, it can turn unpleasant quickly. It is still an involuntary reaction. Therefore, one must pay attention to the reaction of the opposite and slow down or stop, not to overwhelm."

"Are you ticklish, Eddie?"

Oh.

That went very wrong, very fast.

"Like you just saw, I'm not ticklish," explains Eddie slowly, praying Venom's previous failure to tickle his arm suffice to prevent the alien from trying again.

"You are not lying to me, are you, Eddie? I should try again, to be sure."

The man swallows nervously.

"Congratulations, Eddie. You just created a monster. Okay. There's no reason to panic. If you manage to stay quiet, he gets bored sooner or later. Hopefully sooner."

He barely conceals a squeak as something pulls at his wrist. With growing horror, he observes the man how a set of black tentacles wrung around his wrist and painfully slowly pulls them over his head.

"It's easier getting your underarms this way."

A single sentence is enough to make something in his stomach coil. His underarms are ticklish. Very much.

He won't withstand this.

"Why are you nervous, Eddie? You have no reason to unless you were lying."

Venom looks at him, teeth pulled into a giant grin. White eyes scan the human stretched out and open for him to test this newfound knowledge. A cold shiver runs down Eddie's spine. Hopefully, Venom does not pay this reaction to his body and mind. He didn't like the wolfish grin the Symbiote gave him, as if he had trouble choosing which part to begin with.

"Venom, I told you that doesn't work on me. Come on, leave me go, and we can get dinner, alright? We get some pizza, and afterward, you can eat the rest of the chocolate we got you yesterday. What do you say?"

Venom didn't even look like he considered the offer.

"I think I will begin with your stomach."

Eddie licks his chapped lips, franticly thinking about what else he could say to dissuade the Symbiote of his schemes. His eyes observe with growing dread how several tentacles arise out of Venom's chest. The midnight black appendages wind and crank as if possessed. They find their way over his upper body, and Eddie cannot keep his eyes off them.

A pull and prickle spread in his stomach region, and his jaw clenches as he tries to keep a straight face. A hardly noticeable flinch passes his body as the first tentacle reaches its goal. Without waiting, it begins to creep over his shirt from one side to the other.

Eddie shut his eyes tightly, preparing mentally not to let a single noise leave his mouth. One sound, and he wouldn't survive the evening. With bated breath, the man lets the wandering of the tentacles fare. The seconds tick by, and Eddie lies tensed up on the couch until a sudden thought crosses his mind while a tentacle glides over his collarbone.

Venom's touch doesn't tickle.

The reporter dares to open a single eye to peek at Venom. The alien's appendages slide over his body, sometimes adding little pressure. The careful movements remind him of a scan to check for injuries.

He was nearly about to laugh.

How in the world would an alien know how to tickle someone? Eddie wants to shake his head. He had worried for nothing. Of course, Venom could not understand he had to lessen his touch or get firmer with it. His pullover also protected him. He didn't want to know how bad those tentacles would feel on bare skin. Eddies muscles relax. With a relieved sigh, he melts into the couch.

"Bare skin and less pressure, you say?"

"Fuck!"

"Oh, Eddie."

Their eyes meet while a new tentacle grows off the Symbiote's chest. The appendage pats Eddie's cheek teasingly.

"Did you forget? Every single thought, every reaction of our body, everything that happens within you, Eddie, I know it. And now, let's see how good this "tickling" works on you, now that I know what to do, thanks to you."

Goosebumps spread over his skin as his pullover gets pushed upwards. The hold on his wrist loosens, and before he can react, the pullover is pulled over his head and dangles from Venom's claw.

"You don't need this now."

With those words, the Symbiote throws the article of clothing over his shoulder.

"Hey!" protests Eddie and moves his head to see where his clothes end up. He gets pulled out of his endeavors as the black extremities once again begin moving over his upper body. At no other moment did Eddie wish Venom didn't listen to his words and thoughts, as he did at this very moment. The tension that left his body moments before is back tenfold. With tightly shut eyes and lips, Eddie tries desperately, not paying attention to the feather-light touches all over his stomach.

This time, Venom's touch does tickle.

And how much it tickles.

The goosebump grows as the heads of the tentacles slide dangerously close along his belly button, over his waistline and hipbones. Eddie couldn't hold back a small whimper as one of the appendages moved further towards his left side than the others. The light touches between his lower rip and his hips are simply unbearable.

"Got you."

"Fuck!"

The tentacles retreat from the middle of his torso to simultaneously commit to tickling up and down his sides. Two of them on each side slide with silky touches over his skin, and Eddie can't hold back the gigantic grin that is about to split his face in half.

"You're smiling a lot for something that's not funny to you, Eddie."

Instead of answering, Eddie can only give a choked giggle, which he quickly tries overplaying by hiding his reddened face in the crook of his arm. Meanwhile, Venom's limbs are traveling. Two are still paying attention to his sides, which leaves every hair on his body standing straight, while the others are moving upwards.

Eddie could only pray that Venom would keep it at the light touches. If the Symbiote decides to tickle his rips earnestly, he will break like a dried-up stick.

"Breaking? I would like to see that."

Eddie, you dumb idiot!

"It's part of your charm, Eddie."

Venom grins down at him with a sly smirk. The tentacles have reached his ribs, and as one of them calculatedly pokes between the bones, Eddie cannot hold back. With a jump, a little shout of surprise leaves his mouth. Venom's eyes narrow, his monstrous grin fills his face from one side to the other, and Eddie knows there is no way out now.

Before he could protest, plead, or swear at the Klyntar, more than ten tentacles began poking into his rips from all sides at once. Eddie knows he won't be able to handle it anymore. Having lost the charge over his reactions, he cannot stop twisting and turning in the hold as if every poke seems to shoot an electric pulse through his body.

"V-Venom, stop it!"

But the alien doesn't even think about stopping now.

With growing amusement, he observes his host squirming under him. He had never seen the man show this kind of reaction before. Venom could manipulate Eddie if he wanted to, making him do whatever he deemed fit, but the Klyntar detests this kind of symbiosis. This "tickling", causing the man under him to lose control over his body without Venom needing to do anything but touch his skin, was fun. With fascination watches the alien, the crow's feet dancing around the corner of Eddie's eyes. But the Symbiote was not satisfied. As fun as Eddie's weird dance on the couch was, it isn't how the little humans have reacted to the "tickling." His host did make peculiar noises, but the laughing was still missing.

But the answer to archiving that reaction lies right inside Eddie's head. Like a sponge, Venom absorbs every tidbit of information. Every thought, every reaction, whatever gets him closer to achieving his goal is soaked up.

The Klyntar observes Eddie before he lets two of his tentacles change their form. Carefully, to avoid nipping the sensible skin, Venom puts his newly formed claws around Eddie's waist. The thumbs are pressing into the sides of the toned stomach, the rest of his fingers hovering in the small of Eddies back. He seems to do something right as Eddie's brain, after registering the new touch and the position of Venom's claws on his body, releases adrenaline, and his heart rate spikes.

"This is a good spot, right? Is it a place you are ticklish at, Eddie?"

Eddie opens his mouth, but to his horror, nothing but boisterous laughter comes out as Venom uses that exact moment to start squeezing.

The man's hips buck upwards, unable to withstand the urge to escape from the touch, and Eddie throws his body from left to right when Venom won't stop the rapid succession of squeezes. The asshole varies the strength behind each squeeze to keep him guessing, and it drives Eddie mad.

"You bastard! Stohohohop it, dahamn it!"

But Venom doesn't think about stopping. He finally did it.

Eddie squirms madly in the Symbiote's hold, Venom's thumbs massaging the sides of his stomach while his fingers dub into his back. Until now, Eddie didn't even know any part of his back was ticklish. What makes him the most nervous is how Venom gets better at tickling with every ongoing moment. The clumsy movements begin to gain precision, and simple pokes give way to kneading and squeezing at spots like his ribs and hip bones, leaving him squirming pathetically in the hold.

A few tentacles wander back towards where it all began, and instead of stroking over his stomach, they use a bit more pressure, which turns out to be very effective.

"Fuhuhuck, nohot there! Oh good, noho! Pl-please, Venom!"

"Your tummy is ticklish, after all. It's fascinating how such small touches can render you defenseless. You humans are so pathetically fragile that even touches as soft as this can defeat you."

"You reahahally knohow how toho strohoke a mahans ego, Venom."

"Your frail ego doesn't matter to me, Eddie. I'd rather stroke your sides. That's much more amusing."

An honest-to-god squeal escapes Eddie as Venom does, just as he said.

"Are all of you humans this ticklish, or is that just you, Eddie?" purrs Venom, licking his teeth hungrily as a flood of delicious hormones floods the man's brain. His human windes and writhes under Venom's tentacles, stroking up and down his sides.

"Shuhut up. St-stahap teahasing me, you asshole!"

"But your brain reacts so well to them, Eddie."

"I said to keep quiet!"

"Why, Eddie? Does it tickle more when I ask you how ticklish you are while searching for more of your most ticklish spots to tickle you? Does that make it tickle worse?"

He watches with amusement at Eddie's face and neck, reddening at his voice. The man tries hiding his face in his arm, clearly embarrassed but still laughing even when Venom lessens the tickling to teasing strokes.

Eddie finally regains his breath, glaring up at Venom as he fights the heat in his face. God, he cannot believe the damn alien could make him this flustered by tickling him.

"Fuck you, you sadistic parasite."

Venom's eyes narrow dangerously. The reporter's eyes open wide, and panic grows inside him as he watches with fear how a bunch of tentacles approach his defenseless armpits.

"Venom, buddy, let's talk about this, okay? I didn't mean that. It was a slip of the tongue."

Despite his fear of what lay ahead, Eddie couldn't discard the silly grin about to split his face. He looks like a madman trying to keep the corner of his mouth down, only for them to twitch back into a smile, anticipation coiling inside his chest.

With a playful growl, Venom let his appendages strike forward, attacking the open laying underarms.

A shout leaves Eddie's lips before the man shakes his head left and right, messing his short hair up even more while roaring with laughter. Venom had formed another pair of claws, thumbs digging into the muscle under the armpit while the rest teased the middle of both sides, driving the man up the wall. It tickles like mad, and Eddie is thoroughly helpless. He's unable to do anything but pull at his arms. Eddie arches his back and throws his body around, but Venom shows no mercy. While the man twists and turns, laughing his head off, several more tentacles manifest out of Venom's body to teach the human a lesson he wouldn't forget so soon. The tentacles grab him around the middle, turning into a wide belt-like construction that relentlessly massages his bottom rib, sides, stomach, and lower back. Single tentacles use every free patch of skin they can find to prod, poke, and scribble away. Two thicker appendages have wrapped around Eddie's thighs, keeping him from thrusting his hips as another pair of claws take care of his hip bones.

Every time Eddie jumps, shrieks, or squeals, several tentacles are determined to find the cause and make him repeat that reaction.

Eddie is in stitches.

His body moves constantly, winding from side to side. Whatever he tries, he cannot escape the maddening sensations.

The worst of it all, despite his body's desperate attempts to make it stop, a tiny part of Eddie's mind asks when it was the last time he had laughed this much and so heartily. Not a second later, Eddie nearly choked as he realized what he had just thought of, appalled by what would happen if Venom caught wind of him subconsciously having fun while being tickled to pieces by the Symbiote. He would die out of embarrassment.

"I DIHIHIND'T MEAHAN IHIT LIKE THAT! PLEASE STAHAHAP!"

"You are a terrible liar. I will make you pay for calling us a parasite!"

"PLEASEHE VENAHAM! YOU'RE KIHIHILLING MEHEH!"

"I would never let you die, Eddie."

"IHIHI SUHURE DOESOHON'T FEHEHELL LIKE THAHAT!"

Taking in the dark red of the man's face and the tears sparkling in Eddie's eyes, the Klyntar tunes it down. He keeps the human in place. He's still teasing him by letting appendages run up and down his armpits. He also pays special attention to the human's sensitive sides, as well as his neck, causing Eddie to giggle like a maniac.

"Lehet me go. Pl-pleahahse V. I'm tirehehed."

Reculantly, the Symbiote draws his appendages back. Still hovering over the man, Venom watches with a smirk how Eddie curls together, a few giggles escaping him as he tiredly wipes tears out of the corner of his eyes.

"That was tasty."

Eddie let his head fall back, glaring up at Venom but looking so out of it that the alien almost felt sorry for overdoing it. If Eddie hadn't called him a parasite, he might have let up sooner. Eddie had to stop provoking him. Silly human.

"You're telling me it worked?"

Eddie huffs and runs a hand through his messed-up hair.

Venom grins down at him, eyes gleaming with mischief.

"We should repeat that. Almost as good as eating brains."

"Torturing me? You can forget that right now."

"Don't be like that, Eddie. You had fun. I saw and felt it."

"Oh, leave me alone, you ass."

"There's no need to be embarrass-. You threw a pillow at me!?"

"I said leave it."

"I see. You are begging for a second round."

"Venom, stop it. Put your freaking tentacles away! Pleahase, Ve. Nohot agahahain!"

[morganbritton132]

I read ‘zoomies with the kids.’ and assumed it was one of the boys running around the house with the fur babies lol. I see it being Steve and Eddie watching on found but annoyed because Steve is zooming in socks on the hardwood floors and head injuries…

Can I just say how happy this series makes me? I love these two and the world you’ve made for all of the party; your posts always brighten my day. Thank you for sharing them and for letting Eddie and Steve survive and be happy <333

First, I just wanna say thank you for the kind words! I think this little world is a group effort and I really appreciate everybody that throws their ideas into the ring and allows me to build upon them. It’s truly been the best even if I’m a lot slower at getting to them than I used to be.

No one considers how hard quarantine was on pets.

Some people have dogs that are trained to be around people and it’s weird for that to suddenly stop. Suddenly they aren’t going to school anymore or to the grocery store. Steve’s not doing trivia night or taking classes at the community center. They’re just home all the time now and Eddie is always with Steve so Ozzy just… doesn’t really have anything to do.

Not needing to be as vigilant as he is when Steve is more active, Ozzy’s left with an excess of energy and it makes him antsy. Much like his owners, he’s bored.

Joan gets stressed out if Steve is home when he’s not supposed to be because that usually means that there’s something wrong with him. The only time he’s ever been off work for more than a couple days at this time of year was when a medication switch caused cluster seizures. It takes a bit of time for her to get used to him being there.

The solution: They go on walks.

It calms Joan if Steve leaves the house for a bit and it helps Ozzy burn off some of that unused energy, and it also helps Steve who would otherwise be doomscrolling Facebook and thinking about Lucas at the hospital. He already had a semi-regular walking schedule for Ozzy a couple days a week but once COVID hit, they started walking daily.

Unless it rained. Eddie hates when it rains because…

Eddie looks visibly distracted during a zoom interview with the band. You can literally see him tracking something beyond the camera with his eyes because Steve is chasing their pets through the house, and they keep running by the room he is in.

Eddie finishes up what he was saying and then hits mute before shouting, “Stop running!”

Steve literally slides into the room on his socked feet, having to hold onto the doorframe when he lists too far over in one direction. He’s breathy and smiling when he asks, “Your interview over?”

“I’m muted,” Eddie says. “Stop with the zoomies before one of you get hurt because we can’t go to the hospital….Or, at least, take off your socks.”

“Why? So you can look my feet?” Steve asks, scrunching his face up with mock disgust. “Freak.”

Eddie can’t even formulate a response to that before Gareth’s voice is coming out loud and clear from his speakers, “Dude, you did not hit mute.”

“Shi-oot,” Eddie swore, looking away from Steve for just a second. He’s gone when he looks back up, already running back down the hall to play with the animals. He just shakes his head and asks, “We’ll cut this out, right?”

The interviewer asks if he has a roommate and Eddie is in the middle of trying to figure out what the funnier answer to that question is when he hears a loud crash. He nearly blows Gareth’s eardrum out with how loudly he shouts, “Did you fall?”

When this part is inevitably kept in the interview, you can hear faintly over Eddie’s mic, “I’m good!”

[elsecrytt]

Kinktober Day 4

Pegging | Castration | Omegaverse

Pairing: Satoru Gojo/Reader

Warnings: reader is a yandere, gojo is into it, this is basically a comedy believe it or not, gore, a shocking amount of consent for a yandere fic

Pets can be wonderful companions, and a great addition to your family. Especially for a young, single woman like you – a dog can add a feeling of security, and also provide companionship while you’re at home.

But pets aren’t always all fun. Dogs act out for all sorts of reasons.

Bad training. High energy. Need for attention.

In your dog's case, it's separation anxiety.

And "acting out" means Gojo jerks off into your work shoes.

You don't even know how he's getting out of the cage every night. His crate training seems to have failed, but he always obediently goes into the cage at the foot of your bed. Granted, you had to move it so you could stroke his hair as he fell asleep (or pretended to, apparently).

It's not for the sexual release. You'd started jerking him off before bed and that just made him want to jump on you and lick you. You haven’t even started on those kinds of lessons. Gojo’s too quick a study, who knows what he’ll do if you give him access to your cunt and show him how to make you cum.

Fortunately for now, he doesn’t know, and probably wouldn’t ever figure it out. He’s definitely never given a woman head before, which you would normally find repulsive in a man, but you’re pretty sure Gojo’s attitude has just successfully repelled all willing pussy.

This left you, however, with the singular remaining problem of cum in your work shoes.

In a normal relationship, this is where you would talk to your partner about their behavior, explaining how much it bothers you, and convincing them to stop or adjust to make things better.

But Gojo’s not a person, he’s your pet. Even if he’s six foot six and human shaped, he’s just your sweet puppy at the end of the day. He doesn’t understand human speech, even if he’s capable of mimicking it sometimes.

“I’m a sorcerer, you know?” He’d said, “I teach at this one school. My students are going to miss me.”

You’d given him the benefit of the doubt, indulging him with the offer to demonstrate his ‘sorcery’.

Gojo had made a (very cute) concentrating face, then told you to touch him. He looked super surprised when you were able to.

“Wait, what?”

Snapping the collar around his neck, you’d led him off to the life he was destined for, the life of your cherished pet and companion.

Honestly, you’d really saved him. What was a guy like this doing in the real world? Of course he was filthy rich – lucky him – but it terrified you what sorts of people had taken advantage of him before.

What sort of relationships had he been in? He’d accepted the collar right away, even though you’d only just met! It was worrying, how easily he trusted you, even though you really were doing what was best for him. He’d just followed you without question, happily living as your pet.

You’re not protesting, but really, who does that? Satoru Gojo, that’s who. The love of your life who cums in your shoes and peppers your face with kisses as soon as he sees you.

It’s been another frustrating day. He’d messed up all your shoes this time, forcing you to try and wash some, getting to work late. Why does he have to be so difficult?

You spend all day at work thinking of a solution. Of a way to fix him.

It comes to you before you get home. And when you do, he’s waiting for you at the front door, sniffling and quivering like an abandoned puppy. It’s unbearably adorable, and wholly exaggerated.

As soon as you’re in, he pounces on you, hugging you like he hasn’t seen you in centuries, babbling your name and showering you with sloppy kisses.

It’s like he knows you’re a complete sop deep down, and you’ll forgive him for nearly anything if he’s cute and affectionate enough afterwards. Aggravating man. He really is more of a pet than a person.

The two of you spend your day going about various things – Gojo chatters, and you tune it out, humming and petting and giving him an indulgent kiss as you watch TV together, play games, or even cook.

He is useless in the kitchen, always making a mess, and you suspect it’s because he enjoys the fact that you usually opt to give him a bath afterwards.

Truly, more dog than man. It’s your life’s greatest misfortune that you are, thoroughly, a dog person. Or perhaps just a Satoru Gojo sort of person – you can’t imagine raising a dog on top of this. Mostly because you’d have to face the reality that a dog would probably be easier.

“…and I don’t know how you’ve been getting out to begin with,” You finish off your frustrated ramble, setting down the hair dryer as you finish up his hair.

He’s smart enough to clean himself, probably, but you know he likes being pampered. And it’s your privilege as a pet owner to bathe and dry him. Moreover, his hair is unbelievably soft – you run a hand through it, scratching, a sensation he easily leans into.

“Ah, I figured it out ages ago,” He hums, tilting his head up so you can scratch under his chin more easily, “Your technique only works when you’re awake, on things that you can somehow observe.”

Most of his words sound like meaningless barks to you, now. Which means it’s cute, and when he’s being cute, you call him Satoru.

“That’s great, Satoru, sweetie,” You move up to scratch behind his ear and he sighs in bliss, “But you know, you really put me in a tough spot today.”

Pretty blue eyes, wide and pleading, open up. “I’m rich, baby,” He whines, “I can give you all the money you need. Don’t go out every day. Stay with me.”

Boundaries and maintaining separate lives are important for a healthy relationship, but you can’t expect a dog to understand that.

“Baby,” You say gently, “Why do you feel like you always need me there? Are you not getting enough enrichment? I can get you more games to play at home, or books to read. You can even watch TV if you want to.”

He clings to your leg, sniffing, crocodile tears shimmering – but you can tell from how he’s angled that he’s sniffing straight into your crotch, and his legs straddling yours legs his groin rub up against you.

He’s actually incorrigible. You’d be genuinely concerned about someone showing up on your doorstep with a blue-eyed, white-haired child someday, except you’re pretty sure Satoru’s not capable of shutting up and not being annoying for the amount of time it would take to ejaculate inside a woman.

You’re also pretty sure he can’t even get it up with strangers. The only people you know he’s had sex with are – well. It was just one person, who he’d known for years in high school, and who now led a cult. You choose not to think about what that means for Satoru’s taste in partners.

You did stop being a stranger to him relatively quickly, but you’re putting that down to the natural chemistry and magnetism between you.

Even with a friend sneaking in to seduce him as an honesty test, Satoru had remained steadfastly loyal, as all good dogs should be. Your friend, however, didn’t speak to you for a week, and has serious doubts about your taste in men.

“I want youuuuuu,” He whines, nuzzling his face into your hand. Your heart squeezes in your chest. “I miss you so much when you’re gone.”

When you successfully fight the urge to fawn over him, he gives you his best puppy dog eyes. “I’m lonely here by myself, you know. I get separation anxiety. You can’t be mad!”

To his begging, you are immune (your life would have been very difficult otherwise). It is only his stupid thoughtless gestures of affection that move your heart and soul.

“You’re right,” You sigh, “It’s not fair of me to expect you to change your behavior.”

Satoru nods along, as if you aren’t arguing away his personhood. You’d say he’s too much of a pretty, mindless whore to use his brain, but you’re pretty sure he’s well aware of the implications and prefers pethood.

One of your friends had called you crazy, but they didn’t know Satoru like you did.

“Come here, baby, up,” A pat on your lap, and Satoru’s pretty blue eyes brighten right up – he knows what this is.

Gleefully wiggling out of his towel, he sits himself over your knee, cock already half-hard and bouncing against his well-defined abs. You’re going to need to put him on some kind of training regimen or gym time if you want him to maintain that. It’s ridiculously hot.

You take his dick in your hands – it’s a pretty thing. Just long and girthy enough to still look a little slender, all flushed pink at the tip like it’s blushing. Satoru does blush so very prettily.

He bucks into your touch, too, arms wrapped around your shoulders as he shoves himself towards you, but you allow him this indulgence as you tenderly pump him, up and down. Listening to his breathy sighs and moans he probably thinks he’s being very subtle about directing straight into your ears.

They’re still lovely, though. Everything about Satoru is lovely, even if he is terribly annoying sometimes. Everything about him is loveable to you, and always will be, no matter what.

An owner’s love for their dog is unconditional, after all.

Your other hand discreetly picks up the knife you’d left on the bedside table.

“Hhhh~ ahhh, you really are the best,” Satoru pants, clinging to you, nuzzling his face into your hair, licking over the shell of your ear. “Do I get this every night, now?”

You turn your head to place a kiss on his cheek – Satoru whines and chases your mouth with his, cheeks rosy as his cock grows redder in your hands, throbbing and twitching.

“You’re so frustrating sometimes, Satoru,” You say, allowing him his kiss, “But I still love you very much.”

Your hand squeezes harder, harder, thumbing over the slit at the head of his dick until he’s trembling in your lap. Squeaking cutely and half-clawing at the front of your shirt, “Shit, shit, fuck, hnngh, that’s so good – just a little – just let me – ”

Of course it’s good. You’d done it so many times before, after all. He squirms, body tensing as his breaths grow tight, short, his arms squeezing around you –

And then he cums with a sigh, spurting all over your hand. Satoru’s head lolls back, a shuddering gasp escaping him as he relaxes, lashes fluttering a brilliant white against his pink cheeks.

You have the knife at the ready. But first, you kiss his face, on the cheeks, on his teary eyes. He likes kisses, always wants to kiss you on the mouth, but you’re saving that to give him as a special reward, someday.

For the next few moments, you let him sink into the pleasure, feeling how the pulse in his cock slowly ebbs away, his breathing evening out. He’s always been a beauty in the afterglow; it’s no different this time.

When he’s finally soft enough, you bring the edge of the knife right up to the base, coming up from under. Pressing down with your thumb further on his shaft, you yank it upwards by the handle, HARD, enough to make a clean cut. You wouldn’t want this to be too painful, after all.

The gasp he makes is one of pain, but it’s not too unlike his other noises. His whole body shudders against you, and he pants heavily, eyes glassy as his head tilts back in blissful agony.

You hold him in your arms, shushing his sobs tenderly, whispering all the praises you know he loves (that would have made him hard).

“Shh, there’s a good boy,” Hand in his hair, stroking gently, positive reinforcement that he leans into helplessly, “You were so good for me, my sweet darling, you were perfect. My perfect boy.”  

Satoru nuzzles against your hand, pretty eyes and squeezed shut, those fair lashes glistening with tears. Sniveling so pitifully that you can feel yourself getting wetter.

Your hands are gentle now, for all the good it does him, wrapping the bandages around the wound on his crotch.

Oh, what a shame you won’t be doing much with him, soon. He’s so beautiful, all wounded and weepy like this. You’re itching to eat him up… but you’re not so irresponsible as to try that when he’s injured (even if he’d probably want you to).

There’s painkillers, many more hushed words of comfort and reassurance and praise. Satoru doesn’t care for any of the drugs or bandages, but he clings to you when you tell him you’re proud of him, that you made him happy.

That’s your boy. Your darling Satoru.

You let him sleep in your bed that night. After all, he has been a very good boy.

The cage hadn’t been stopping him anyways – but surely this would keep him in bed, too, the appeal of your company, your arms wrapped around him.

When you wake up, Satoru is sleeping peacefully, right where you left him.

Then again, he always is – but you’ve got a good feeling about this one. There’s a special charm – its own reward – seeing him curled up into your side, long limbs sprawled and twined with yours. It’s a little hard to extract yourself.

Really, you’ve got to get a dog bed or something, you think, as you get yourself ready for your day. If you let him sleep in your bed he’s bound to get up to more antics, but it was clear the cage wasn’t really holding him…

It’s something to consider. At least now, one problem is solved. You’ll miss his cock for sure, but not as much now, since you’d never had it in the first place. You love Satoru for himself, after all, and not his body.

You get out your work shoes, and –

“God damn it, Gojo!”

[ckret2]

I know that making things not only canon-compliant but canon-plausible is basically your hobby, and you tend to enjoy taking every little detail no matter how inane and incorporating it into the greater lore of your work. Have you ever had a moment where you were trying to find a logical explanation for something, realized that it was EXTREMELY STUPID, and now you just avoid writing things that will make it come up?

I think most fan writers have one piece of canon where they're like "Yeah, no, that was a bad decision, I'm just replacing [unbelievable event/racist character portrayal/blatant disregard for how mental health works in reality/etc] with [piece of fanon that makes it work better]."

Usually, even when there's an obvious author mistake, you still have a cool canon-compliant thing to do with it. Curious if there's any exceptions.

yeah, there's a few things.

Evidence implies that Ford fell in the portal in 1983. Evidence implies that the show takes place during 2012, but maaaybe 2013? The show says he fell in the portal "thirty years ago." He was probably intended to fall in the portal in 1982 but that doesn't line up with some of the dates (particularly, song release dates). Also, exactly how long did he know Bill between meeting him and getting portaled? And exactly how long was the paranoia era? My solution: the show takes place in 2012, Ford got portaled in *mumble mumble*, it's been """thirty""" years since he fell in the portal, we're NOT gonna worry about it, and maybe the Eurythmics released their albums a year earlier in the Gravity Falls universe did you ever think of that? Huh?? But at any rate I just try to quietly glide over the little timeline issues without addressing them.

Anything Bill says that would validate a real world conspiracy theory is a lie; but, much more likely, I'm just never gonna talk about it so we can ignore it completely, especially if the conspiracy theory is antisemitic or racist. "A cabal of global elites secretly rules the world and has a really cool break room"? Bill's lying; but also, we're NOT gonna talk about that, just chucking it out the window completely. "Bill helped fake the moon landing"? We can crack jokes about that one but only to establish that Bill was lying. "The Egyptians made the pyramids look like Bill"? We're NOT gonna claim the Egyptians made the PYRAMIDS for Bill, at most they might have redecorated them; but we're probably not gonna talk about them redecorating the pyramids anyway; and we're gonna crack jokes about how stupid Ancient Aliens style idiocy is; and maybe we're just gonna minimize talking about Bill's relationship with Egypt entirely.

(A side note: one thing i REALLY appreciated from TBOB is that it clearly established that they did not build the pyramids for Bill, just temporarily redecorated them; they did not worship Bill, they thought he was a pest; and the book went out of its way to have Bill say anyone who claims aliens helped with the pyramids is a con artist. It didn't have to do that! But it really improved things a LOT.)

Anything not mentioned by Bill that alludes to iffy real world conspiracy theories, we're just not gonna talk about. "America is secretly ruled by someone other than the president and nobody knows," not gonna talk about that, I don't care that it's Santa. "Dapperly-dressed reptilian aliens," not gonna talk about that, I don't care that they were here to go dog sledding. "Mt. Rushmore is secretly a bunch of robots built to defend America from a future threat," NEVER gonna talk about that, Mt. Rushmore is a carving made by a racist on stolen land sacred to several Native American peoples, it does not deserve to be made cool.

and speaking of Santa: I don't care for Jewish characters getting shoved into Christmas stories, especially if they're "wow, it turns out the Christians were right about the existence of this folkloric figure associated with one of their most important holy days" Christmas stories, so there's a high chance I'm just never gonna mention the Krampus plot lmao. If I do, it'll only be because I need to acknowledge the relationship building Ford & Fidds got. (Or to acknowledge Ford's rage at being commanded to conform to holiday expectations, which is REALLY funny and he's completely right.)

Those are the things off the top of my head.

[sweeneydino]

*BIG INHALE* Hi! I’ve been rotating the Spikeangelo au in my brain for a while, and things might get incomprehensible real quick. Not all questions, some just comments... 90% of this is just musing as the train of thought jumps rails and causes massive casualties; no need to answer all if you chose to answer any.

1. The fact that Master Splinter lets Titan live with them BEFORE he knows that he’s a version of Mikey, even after the attempted murder… man will look at a mutated turtle, ask, “Is anyone going to adopt that?” and not wait for an answer.

2. In Turtle Temper, Splinter says, “Spike, chew on your leaf if you are in the mood for a story”. Ronin has a choice here: pest Raph by eating, or troll Splinter by not. What choice would he make?

3. It seems like during the Slash and Destroy episode, Titan already had his outfit. If so… where did he get the clothes? The little turtles don’t really wear anything (and their clothes would be much smaller), so unless Splinter has a secret goth wardrobe, the only thing I can think of is that Raph is Very Optimistic about how tall he’s going to get, and has stockpiled clothes accordingly.

4. A while back you mentioned Titan “chewing [Shredder] out” after Shredder kills Splinter during the Triceraton invasion. The image you drew made it look like a tirade, but the first thing that came to mind for me was… more along the lines of using Shredder as a dog toy.

5. You said that after Slash and Destroy, Titan hides for a while out of shame. When does he rejoin the others? Before the invasion, *during* the invasion, after? Does he join the farmhouse arc, or does he do as canon Slash does and defend NYC while the rest of the turtles are gone?

Ah... there's a very long part six that's just about the ghosts... I don't think I'll be bothering you with that today.

When I see these types of asks, I can never control the squeal that comes out of my mouth. I love detailed analyses about my aus

:D

I also love completing things, so let's do them all!

1) Yep! Idk whats with the Splinters, but if it's turtle-shaped and needs a home, well say no more!

When Spike turned to Titan, Splinter already sensed something off with him, something more familiar than a family pet, but he would never figure out why until their lair is attacked by the kraang at the start of the invasion.

It's hard not to realize that your son's former pet knows moves (and shows a strange amount of wisdom) that you're 90% sure you never taught or shown to any of your sons.

2)

I think he's still upset about the pizza. Or Raph's anger.

3)Dumpster diving?

I'll be honest, I forgot to write it down... So we will stick to this simple solution for now🗿

4)

Okay, well... Shredder ALMOST became a dog toy. Let's just say that (this will totally not be a future comic)

5) He reunites with them after the newtralizer arc! After a little convincing ofc

When the invasion begins, he's with Splinter and Leatherhead, having defended their home and now searching for the turtles. They find Shredder after they exit the sewer, and Titan isn't too pleased to see the old bastard, attacking him in a rage once he hears about Leo's possible "demise."

Unfortunately, when he gains the upper hand, Titan is the one caught off guard and knocked into the machine, crushed by the pipes.

Before Shredder could really begin his usual evil monologue, he becomes distracted with Leatherhead, allowing Splinter to check on Titan and help him out of the pile of metal. Despite the likelihood of having a huge bruise on his ribs, he'd be fine. Even better if he could get rid of all their issues right there in front of him.

The one wrestling an alligator. And somehow winning.

And when he sees that devil in that all too familiar armor toss leatherhead into the pit, he's all too ready to kill him.

Yet he can't. Because He's not the only one wanting to prevent the past from happening again.

Splinter sends him away to find his sons, Titan's brothers - well, sorta - and even if he wants to bring Oroku Saki, the worse pain imaginable, he's more concerned if they are okay.

...

Okay, well, if the rest of them are okay

COUGH COUGH.

He'd find them, with him.

And uh. I think Leo's perfectly fine.

So when they decided to leave for April's farmhouse, he stayed in the city to search for Splinter and the other Mutanimals after leaving Leo with the others.

Maybe he sees himself as a burden.

Then the rest you make up on the way 👍 /j

This was very fun! Maybe I should just write paragraphs or smol little chapters with much more detail and flow🤔

Nah, I'll just draw.

Can't wait for the looooooooooonnngggg part six :D

[chaos-in-deepspace]

L&DS Rafayel: Crab Wars | Drabble - Comedy

Ahahahaha so this is a comedic post. I feel like every day life with Rafayel would have these moments of just "Bro wtf are you doing?" and this encapsulated it perfectly.

Pairing: Rafayel x Reader Warning: None Disclaimer: This is an original fan work for “Love and Deepspace”. Do not repost on other platforms or plagiarize. All characters shown in this fic is 18+.

Blog Information | Masterlist

Rafayel

There were so many things you had come to accept when it came to Rafayel. He was eccentric and tended to just do whatever he felt like. So, how did he still manage to get you at a loss for words? Absolutely stunned as you stared at the situation right in front of your eyes,

He had invited you over for dinner, and this is what you came to? You looked at your beloved boyfriend standing in the middle of his kitchen. Around him were five living crabs. Their claws were up and snapping as he stood in the center of a circle. He looked at you, then back at the crab directly before him.

"Okay, what the ever-loving fuck is happening, Raf?" You finally managed to say. You pinched the bridge of your nose and crossed your arms over your chest. You honestly didn't know what to do with this man anymore.

Rafayel seemed almost sheepish, but he had gained control of his emotions and schooled them to appear nonchalant about the ordeal. "Well, I wanted to let them walk around a bit before I cooked then," he said, already a bad start to this story. And then they just surrounded me…I think they assume I'm their king."

You gave him the most deadpan stare you could muster, smacking your lips together, "Okay…so why are their claws unhooked?" you asked next. You knew damn well at the seafood market; they had tied the crab's claws so they didn't get any funny ideas before they died.

"It felt too constricting for them," Rafayel said, "And as their leader, I needed to do what was right by my people,"

"Are you sure they chose you as their king?" you finally asked, "It looks more like you're going to be sacrificed," Rafayel's eyes widened. He placed a hand over his heart and gave you the most offended look he could muster.

"They would never," he gasped, now pouting with his lip jutting out. You looked down at the crabs and then back at him. Why were you even having this conversation in the first place? This was…was it too late to call a pizza place?

"Can you just…put them back in the pot and cook them, Raf?" you huffed. Rafayel looked away from you as he cleared his throat.

"So that's the issue," he said, "I don't wanna grab them. I tried before you arrived, and one snapped at me, and I don't know what to do now," oh so he was being held hostage by a bunch of crabs that should've been their damn dinner. "Can you help me out?" he said, doing his best puppy dog eyes for you.

You blinked slowly before sighing. You reach down to your thigh holster and pull out your gun, taking aim at the one directly in front of where Rafayel is standing. Before you could pull the trigger, you heard Rafayel screaming at you to stop, calling your name multiple times in a panic.

"Can you not?!" he shouted again, "You can't shoot them!" he said and looked at you like you were the crazy one here.

"It would solve the issue, wouldn't it?" You asked, "You were the one begging me for assistance, I came up with a solution, and now you're backing down," you huffed in annoyance, "Such beta bitch behavior,"

Rafayel was stunned to silence, but that only stopped him for a moment, "Did you call me a beta bitch?" he finally muttered, and you smirked.

"Uh ya? Now we either do this my way, or I'm going to chill in the living room and order pizza while you figure…" you motioned towards the floor, "This out."

"Call Thomas?" he finally asked, and you thought for a moment…why hadn't you considered doing that. You pulled out your phone and dialed the man's number, letting it ring a few times before he finally picked up. 

You heard him calling your name in a confused tone: "Hey, is there anything I can help you with?" He was always the professional one, it would seem.

"Thomas, we need help at the studio ASAP." you began, "And yes, this is an actual emergency this time," you didn't even let him reply as you got your phone and took a photo of the situation. "I'm sending over the situation,"

Thomas was silent as he checked out the image, and then suddenly, you heard a loud sigh and a click as he hung up. You paused and looked at the phone, then back over to Rafayel, "Well…looks like you're on your own, bye babes," you turned around and began your journey toward the living room.

You heard Rafayel shouting your name a few times, trying to get you to come back. He could figure it out. He got himself into this mess, and he can get himself out. You, however, would not be risking getting pinched by a crab today.

Imma be frfr I ain't touching live crabs. No freaking way. I am baby.

[luimagines]

Incredible Reenactment

Another commission

Masterlist

They asked for Reader being isekai’ed into Hyrule after being in a Ren Fair. They meet the Chain. Starting with Woflie. :D

Enjoy.

Content under the cut!

It was a perfect sunny day to be at the Renaissance Fair. 

You had dressed up in your home made clothes to fit in with the aesthetic. You had your water bottle and a whole lot of cash that you were willing to blow on any and all impulses while you were there.

It wasn’t often that you stepped in to see the place, but it was all in good fun.

As you were walking along the booths and shops of the fair, you noticed multiple cosplayers. One of them even had the most accurate and stunning Dark Link cosplays you had ever seen. You had let them know what you thought of it.

You don’t know what pushed you so much to go talk to them but even if it was just that single sentence. The ‘hey, I like your outfit.’ In and Out. You can do it! You’d never see them again after today anyway. They had to know.

You tried to follow them at least to tap them on the shoulder but it seemed that the closer you got the faster they seemed to move. Maybe they were running away from you? You didn’t think they saw you.

In any case, you had managed to lose sight of them.

“Fiddle faddle…” You pout and lean against the wall. It was a shame but there’s little you could do about it. 

Oh well, it was a cool costume. You shake your head and move to go back to where you were. You weren’t done looking around the fair. And you wanted to explore every inch.

But your ankle gives out from under you, sending you to the ground.

You pop back up, like a daisy, and brush down your clothes. “Cool, cool, cool.... No one saw that. It’s fine. I’m fine.”

You move away from the area, trying to run away from your impending embarrassment. Some people looked your way as you scrambled to gain distance but that only heightened your self-consciousness.

Ho-kay! This is a little too much attention you’re garnering for yourself. Maybe it’s time to take a step out and calm down before starting over.

You walk through the stalls and the booths. There’s more people around you than you remember, but maybe they just got there. You find one of the exits. It’s along a tall stone wall with large wooden doors that connect to a wooden drawbridge.

“They really went all out with this.” You marvel as you look upwards to see it all. You nearly crash into a coming in patron with a horse but with a quick apology, you keep moving.

You walk onto the field in front just beyond the town’s borders. The parking lot should be nearby. But you can’t seem to find it. If anything you think that there are a lot more trees around here than you thought there was when you pulled in.

“I must have gone through the other side of the fair.” You scratch the top of your head.

Something enters the corner of your eye and you turn your head to it. A massive gray and black canine is slowly coming your way. Is it a wolf? It’s certainly large enough to be a wolf.

“Easy.” You say, putting your hands up. As if that would stop it from hurting you. Your heart starts pounding in your chest at the sight of the animal. “Easy buddy…Are you alone? Do you have people?”

At least it doesn’t seem aggressive, you think to yourself. It comes closer and you instinctively put your hand out. If it’s just a dog, it’ll sniff it. If it’s a wolf, well then you’ll have to figure another solution.

The creature pauses and tilts its head. Clearly, the poor thing was not informed about the procedure here.

You keep your hand out, hoping for the best but mentally preparing yourself for the worst. “I’m friendly. Are you friendly?”

The canine steps closer and pauses. The question is plastered all over its face. It licks your knuckles.

Your heart melts and all the tension drops from your body. “Oh..ok. Cool. No biting. No Fighting. We’re cool. I’m cool…. I’m talking to a dog. Fun.”

You sag and sit on the ground. The dog continues to sniff you, as if you've just given permission for it to do so. You sigh and watch it do its thing. “Where are your people? 

“Wolfie!!” A kid cries.

He comes running out of the tree line and instantly spots the two of you. You sag further. Thank god, you think. Some people to take care of the dog. This is why you need to have your dogs on a leash. Something could happen. 

You wave as he comes closer. “Hey. Is he yours?”

“Um..” He pauses. He’s a cute kid. He looks just like Link from Wind Waker. It’s another great costume. “Well, not really. He just shows up sometimes but he’s a good boy. I was wondering where he went.”

That’s…a good enough answer. Wait a minute, how old is he? Where are his parents?

The questions are just on the tip of your tongue when more people come out of the woodwork. Their armor looks legit and they all have some sort of weapon. Multiple of them look like a version of Link. Each costume seems authentic and expertly made. It’s impressive.

You move to stand, a smile already playing on your lips. ”Good afternoon! I’m assuming the dog is yours?”

“...Yeah, sorry about that.” One of them answers.

“Right.” You elect to ignore the strange pause. It’s fine.

“I really like your outfit.” You say, looking back to the young boy smiling. “You look a lot like Link.”

He blinks and points to himself. You nod. He tilts his head with a strange smile. “I am Link.”

You blink and point to the other boys. “Who are they then?”

“Also Link.”

A pause. You need to sit down for a moment.

[markthekng]

Tgcf is not an emotional rollercoaster. It is eighteen emotional rollercoasters that you have to ride back to back to back with a full stomach of slushies, popcorn, hot dogs, ice cream, and curly fries.

Spoilers under the cut

I'm still processing how I should feel about Ling Wen. Cause on one hand, she kinda fucked with Xie Lian and Hua Cheng a little too much at the the end of book 4 beginning of book 5. On the other hand, convincing everyone that your former superior was castrated because he spread rumors that you tried to sleep with him, becoming the first woman to ascend to the upper court and carrying it on her back, then watching as it all crumbles without her and everyone who ever mocked her for being a woman in the upper court had to take their words back is pretty slay of her and I can't not support women's rights and wrongs.

Also I know I'm mentally ill because in spite of the black water arc I am still going to be a die hard shipper of beefleaf. (I'm only on book 6 don't make fun of me)

Also why is Xie Lian's solution to everything just getting in drag. Like, the whole beginning of the cuocuo situation his plan was "okay! I'm going to dress up in women's clothes....and then I'll figure it out from there" even Hua Cheng was like "what were you thinking? Did you really think drag would solve this?" And Xie Lian was just like "well it worked the first time (⁠´⁠-⁠﹏⁠-⁠`⁠；⁠)

[ordinaryschmuck]

Full Family AU Part 15

Camila sat at her computer, rocking back and forth in her rickity, swirly chair that's probably older than her at this point. She had her hands over her eyes, letting out a long dragged out groan, frustrated to no end by the torment that is doing her own research.

"Daddy's home!" Manny announced as he stepped into the computer room. "I brought home pizza and, good news, Vee loves it. I gave her one slice and she gobbled it down in seconds. Bad news, her puppy dog eyes are as irresistible as Luz's, so she had to have three slices. Hopefully that's fine."

Camila said nothing. She just grunted, not changing her position in the chair. She barely even acknowledged Manny putting a plate with her slice of pizza next to the computer.

"Take a break," he told her. "Your brain is fried, so enjoy some pepperoni, my Pepperoni."

Camila removed her hands from her face and gave Manny a quizzical look. "Your Pepperoni? What does that even mean?"

"...It means I was trying something."

Camila groaned some more as she took her pizza. "I've hit a wall, Manny. I've hit a major wall..."

"What are you even researching?"

"Well, after that...heartbreakingly tragic backstory Vee told us, we agreed, we have to let her stay here. Because, I mean, where else would she go, right?"

"Right, I know. I was there."

"Well, I figured that if she stayed with us, people would ask her who she was. I can't say Luz's cousin because what if family visit? What do I tell them? So the only logical thing I could think of is daughter."

"Makes sense."

"But..." Camila paused to take a bite of her pizza. "Mm, that is good. But I would have to prove she's our daughter. Because then people will ask, 'Why isn't she in school?' And I can't send her to school without papers or stuff like that. And I'm not her birth mom, so I don't have her birth certificate or whatever. So I thought, 'Oh, maybe we could adopt her.'"

"I mean, I'm not opposed to that," Manny said. "We always talked about having a second kid and Vee...needs a home."

"Of course she needs a home, I want to give her a home, but unfortunately I can't give her a home!" Camila takes a bigger, frustrated bite of this pizza. "MAN, this is good! Did you go far from town to get this?"

"There's actually a place by--Actually, let's circle back to that," Manny said with a shake to his head. "What do you mean we can't give her a home?"

"Because to adopt a child you need adoption papers," Camila explained, sounding exasperated between her bites of pizza. "And to get those, you need to go to the county clerk's office, petition for adoption, get that in the system, go to the judge, and let the judge approve your adoption and--GAH!"

She leans further back in her chair, munching the rest of her pizza.

"Can you get me another slice?" Camila asked Manny. "Mami needs more stress food..."

"I think Mami needs a breather," Manny suggested. He then went behind Camila and started giving her his signature shoulder rub, Camila responding with a light hum because of how nice it felt. "You're overworking your brain, trying to figure things out as soon as possible. We don't need an immediate solution. Just gotta take things step by step."

"I know," Camila sighed. "But you heard what Vee said. All those horrible things that happened to her. She needs us, Manny. She needs to...be apart of something that shows her what love really is. And I want to give that to her. But...all those fictional stories that just show a child that had no home to begin with being adopted into a family tends to leave out all the paperwork necessary to make that process legitimate."

"Of course," Manny said. "All that stuff is boring."

"Manny..." Camila whined.

"But we'll get through it. Focus on stuff we can solve right now instead of things that we'll have to consider in the future."

"Of course we'll have to consider that future stuff. We can't just ignore the other steps."

"I'm not saying we ignore the rest. Just...look at what we have to do and focus on what we can do right now."

Camila hummed in thought. "I guess...I guess one thing we can do is make sure Vee can change into other outfits. That sundress is adorable, but she can't just wear the same thing everyday. This isn't a cartoon."

"And we can easily figure something out." Manny gave the top of Camila's head a kiss. "Until then, how about I get you that second slice of pizza."

"That'd be nice...Where'd you leave the rest?"

"On the kitchen table."

"You...didn't make it easy for the other kids to get to, did you? Especially the one kid who apparently loves pizza."

Manny was silent. Loudly silent. Next thing Camila knew he ran out of the room, quick as a flash.

"That's a no." She chuckled, shutting off the computer for now.

That's enough research for tonight.

[oneatlatime]

Journey to Ba Sing Se, Part 1: The Serpent's Pass

Alternate title: Gimme Appa Back, Take Two.

Bit of a mouthful for a title. I will definitely be watching this apparent two parter as two single episodes. There's commentary too, but that'll wait for a rewatch.

The previously on segment seems to point to Suki making an appearance. I didn't like her in her original episode, so this bodes ill.

That was incredibly ominous title card music.

Explain this to someone who's never seen the show. Also, air mattress made of ice is a very efficient way to get hypothermia.

Sokka saying "no more distractions' actually summoned a distraction. He should look into harnessing that power.

This brings up a point I've been thinking about. So the Earth Kingdom are smart enough to house refugee transportation underground, presumably because they've figured out that fire can't dig. So why didn't the entire population of the Earth Kingdom just become mole people at the first sign of fire nation attack?

Get yourself Iroh's brand of chill. It's dearly bought in his case, but he has such a good way of looking at life. Also, half of Zuko's face is like an inch higher than the other half, and that haircut is not doing him any favours.

Oh god it's fuckboy. I'd take a million Sukis over fuckboy. Nice to see that the majority of his posse seems to have come to their senses and deserted him though.

CABBAGE GUY!!! HI CABBAGE GUY!!! I MISSED YOU!!!

She's got a point about destruction of the ecosystem, but unless there was woodworm in that cart, that platypus bear is guilty of needless destruction of cabbage guy's possessions.

I loved this. The double punch of getting stymied by bureaucracy and undermined by cosplayers. There are some wacky ideas in this episode.

Aang! You may have lost Appa but you still have your glider! You don't need a passport or a ticket! Just fly to Ba Sing Se and make puppy dog eyes at the Earth King to make him send a boat to collect your friends!

You know that part in Harry Potter where Ron and Harry miss the train and decide the only logical course of action is to steal a flying car rather than, I don't know, wait for a responsible adult? I have a feeling this show is going to do the same type of thing with the whole Serpent's Pass. And I have to say, it's a brilliantly accurate way to do a plot that involves pre-teens, because they will often reach for the most out-there, illogical course of action no matter their intelligence. Curse those still-developing neural pathways. It also makes perfect sense in a kids' show, where the audience mostly wouldn't be caught dead turning down an adventure in favour of asking a responsible party (or a bureaucracy) for help.

"It is your pleasure" Get wrecked bitch!

I love seeing Toph weaponise that which previously kept her caged. I love to see Toph winning at life. Actually, I love to see Toph.

Get yourself some friends who'll commit to the bit no questions asked like these guys.

Get yourself a man who says your name the way Sokka says SUKI!!!:D Get yourself a girl who's so into you, she'll flirt with you in front of your entire found family.

Momo knows what's up. He's a good judge of character.

It's rare for me to advocate for criminal behaviour on this show, but after that bureaucracy lady denied them any sort of solution for the refugees who got their tickets stolen, I was kind of hoping that Katara would just say 'fuck it' and steal one of those ferries. Or even smuggle people on to them. They've got two waterbenders; they could make ice boats to take them out to the ferry, or even across the whole lake presumably. Plot dictates they go face this serpent thing, because this appears to be a monster of the week episode, but boy did that ferry lady need smacking.

Sokka's acting funky.

Is corniness one of the side effects of pregnancy?

No one in their right minds thinks that a pass called "the SERPENT'S Pass" in a universe like this one is named for its aesthetic qualities. Nice try at misdirection, but there will be a Sneky Boy in that water.

Aang's kind of right about the whole 'hope is a distraction' thing. Hope can too easily go from fuel to crutch.

It didn't occur to anyone to hide from the Fire Nation ship until it passed?

Toph's just saving everyone's bacon today huh?

Am I sensing some post-Yue trauma?

I would love to know the context behind Zuko knowing this very niche skill.

Jet has this fascinating ability to do objectively good deeds in such a sleezy way that you end up siding with the greedy oppressors. Weird.

This makes so much sense. Aang zipped into the Avatar State so hard and fast in the desert that he probably scared himself, so now he's keeping a lid on things so hard that he's scaring everyone else with his newfound apathy. He's 12, and this episode he feels 12. This is probably the first time he's met emotions this big; of course he doesn't quite know what to do with them.

You know, Katara doesn't get paid enough to put up with this.

Suki. Honey. I'm pretty sure there's a girl code about not flirting with a guy in front of his ex.

Has Suki been filled in on the whole moon thing? Or is she just really confused right now?

You know, Smellerbee is just as unusual a name for a girl.

Jet talks the talk, but I don't believe he'll be able to walk the walk, despite second chances being one of the big themes of this show. Something about him still feels off.

Hope you guys can swim!

Katara to the rescue again. I'm liking this new level-headed action-oriented Katara that appeared in The Desert, and I'm glad she wasn't just a one-episode character.

Momo here fulfilling one of my childhood dreams. There was an aquarium room at my local zoo that had a tunnel you could walk through. Seven year old me would have sold my soul to be able to glorp through the glass and swim with the fishes like this.

Once again, Toph saves the day. She's doing a lot of heavy lifting this episode.

Big Sneky Boy has the colour palette of an exercise video from the 80s aerobics phase. Kind of detracts from the terror when he's wearing a leotard.

Number one sign of irresponsible pet ownership: sacrificing your lemur to Cthulhu.

Aang just bitchslapped Big Sneky Boy.

Why didn't they go with a big ice bridge in the first place?

Yeah that's a problem. Could she make rock skate blades and attach them to her feet maybe? Would that help her see?

Guys. Just. Send someone out there for her. The ice doesn't have handrails. Come on.

Suki can swim in like half a tonne of armour. I bet they have swimming with armour on drills on Kyoshi Island.

"You can go ahead and let me drown now." That is EXACTLY my sense of humour.

Unlike goldfish, Big Sneky Boys can be flushed down the toilet.

"Now it's nothing but smooth sailing to Ba Sing Se." *Something immediately goes wrong* Has Sokka thought about harnessing his ability to speak things into existence?

Tragically, it makes perfect sense that Katara knows exactly how to deliver real human things.

"You know, as soon as I saw your scar I knew exactly who you were." Jet's little speech here got the biggest laugh out of me yet. I had to pause so I wouldn't miss dialogue. He's so deliciously wrong.

This episode's Beat Up Sokka quota is fulfilled by a baby that has yet to be born.

"I want our daughter's name to be unique" TAKE COVER FOLKS! UNNECESSARY VOWELS INCOMING!

Didn't you guys just nearly get killled by a pass that told you to abandon Hope? Are you sure about that name?

Ok it isn't pregnancy that makes you corny. It's being a character in this episode. While I'm glad to see the back of Stoic Aang, this is getting to be a bit on the cheesy side.

Hell yeah Katara deserves that cry. And that hug.

I'm watching this at my mom's house and I need to report that when Sokka said "You came along, to protect me?" my mom audibly went "awww!"

On a more serious note, this is exactly what Sokka needs after the Yue situation. A badass girlfriend who not only can and does take care of herself, but who also can and does take care of Sokka. Boy needs some pampering.

That is one hell of a wall.

That is one hell of a Big Sneky Boy.

"Appa's gonna have to wait" hit like a tonne of bricks. Another step in the journey to turn Aang from carefree monk to repsonsible Avatar. Appa having to wait is a genius story beat, but I want Appa NOW.

Final Thoughts

I had to check out my window for flying pigs before I started typing this section, because Zuko was consistently the most reasonable character in the B plot, perhaps in the whole episode. Apparently the 'make Zuko decent' project is finally seeing results. Have we turned over a new leaf? Dare I hope? It helps that he was juxtaposed with one of the single most batshit crazy characters from season one, but still.

I also need to issue a formal apology to Suki and all of her fans. I didn't like her in The Warriors of Kyoshi, and while I'm still not overly fond of that episode, I love what they've done with her character here. A good standalone character with her own strengths, goals, and responsibilities, and a good match for Sokka. I'd go so far as to say she's a better match for Sokka than Yue was, for all that both ladies have a startling amount in common: a position of responsibility, devotion to those who regard them as a leader, good taste in water tribe ass, etc.

I'm also going to hypothesise that Sokka is, in universe, the hottest member of the Gang. He's now had four girls expressing their interest: Suki, then Yue, then Azula's pokey pink friend whose name currently escapes me, and now Toph too! And she can't even see him, so his hotness is more than skin deep.

This episode was another stealth character episode in the style of The Blue Spirit. You think it's an action episode but it's actually character work with some fights for spice. It's got: -payoff for Katara's new-found levelheadedness -the other side of the coin on Aang's desert freakout -Toph doing just ALL the heavy lifting in the absence of Appa (seriously, teach her to fly and you won't need Appa as anything but a friendly couch) -Toph also getting an incredibly logical weakness that she learns she can rely on her friends to surmount -Sokka getting some Yue resolution from a frankly ironic source -Zuko getting what I'm sure is going to turn into a dark mirror

Speaking of fuckboy, there was nothing in this episode that hinted that Jet's turn to good was anything but genuine, but something about him still really makes my teeth itch. So I'm calling it now: based not on any evidence, but entirely on my own feelings, Jet's turn to good isn't going to stick.

There was some corny stuff in this episode, but it's a kids' show. It gets way more allowance for corny than an adult show does. I'll let it slide, so long as it doesn't become a habit.

This was part one of a two part episode, but it certainly didn't feel that way. There was the Big Metal Sneky Boy plot hook at the very end, but other than that it was a self-contained story.

I had predicted last episode that the rest of season two would be spent getting to Ba Sing Se, and they did it in one episode. So I'd like to announce my retirement from predicting the future because I am not good at it. I have no idea where we're going beyond next episode. I guess I'll have fun finding out!

[gasolinerainbowpuddles]

Cinnamon and Sugar ║ ⓞⓝⓔ๏ⓞⓕⓕⓢ

𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙿𝚎𝚍𝚛𝚘 𝚂𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝚂𝚎𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚝 𝚂𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚊 𝚏𝚒𝚌 𝚎𝚡𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎

| CINNAMON AND SUGAR | main masterlist | PAIRING(s): Joel Miller x reader

| RATING: explicit material | 18+ | WORD COUNT:  4.2k | CONTENT: age gap, Joel being the main caretaker for Sarah's dog while she's away at college, intimation of situation involving assault/SA with no graphic or descriptive language/discussion, smut, dog being cute, Joel being a reluctant grumpy dog grandpa

| SYNOPSIS: Joel needs a better solution for dog care, and you're the perfect fit. When Joel in turn becomes the perfect fit for what you need, the lines between professional and personal start to blur.

Sarah had more than surprised Joel when she came home with Cinnamon. He hadn’t even realized she’d be scouring the internet for listings and traveling to meet with owners, breeders, and shelters in search of the perfect companion. Joel’s stomach turned when he realized how many potentially dangerous meet-ups she’d gone to without his knowledge, all in search of a stupid dog. Of course it was partially his fault that she kept it a sworn secret; he wouldn’t have been open to the idea. He never had been. All  the time, patience, and money needed for a family pet never came into alignment when Sarah was growing up. He’d almost given in to a cat once since they didn’t require as much work, but he managed to steer Sarah into a fake robot puppy gift instead.

But now with Sarah heading into another semester at college, Joel was left with the task of finding care arrangements until she came home. Depending on what projects or planning he had going on, Joel could be out of the house 12 plus hours a day for three weeks straight and then the next couple of weeks would be just here and there type management on building sites where he could take Cinnamon along for the ride. He hadn’t always been fond of Cinnamon, but having a travel companion was nice. And, if he was being honest with himself, having her around while Sarah was away meant he wasn’t left with a silent, empty house. The guys would poke fun at him for carting around a Corgi, but he really didn’t give two shits about having a “girly dog” or whatever the fuck they were on about.

He wished he could do better by Cinnamon than an erratic schedule with kennels and doggy daycares one week and being able to ride in his truck with him for hours on end the next week. It was probably confusing for a dog, but there wasn’t much other option - until you came along. You were around Sarah’s age, that much he could tell when he answered the door that fateful day. You didn’t really have the same spitfire confidence he’d somehow instilled in Sarah, though. You had enough courage to knock on a random stranger’s door and offer dog walking and sitting services, sure, but there was something distinctly small and unsure in the way you carried yourself.

Still, you had a warmth about you that was undeniable. Joel’s instincts told him you were good people. Cinnamon took to you immediately, which was all the confirmation Joel needed to decide what could it hurt to have a more prominent, steady figure in the dog care mix. It was a hell of a lot cheaper than what the kennels and daycares were charging. It didn’t hurt that you were absolutely stunning. He felt like a creep whenever he snuck glances at you, but it was hard to ignore the delightful curves and valleys of your body. It was even worse when you gave him a genuine smile - bright and consuming, making it feel like the air was ten times thicker when he tried to pull in a normal breath.

As awful as it sounded and as awful as it was to think, he sometimes wished that you’d take more than just the one semester off from school. He was banking on you not taking up a summer semester, but that only bought him around 6 months of you being around. Every time he saw you, he became greedier. He wanted to see more of you. He wanted to explore more of you. He wanted to know more about you. He wanted you to know more about him. It was wrong to find himself so deeply engrossed with someone only a few years older than his own daughter, but he couldn’t help it. He’d tried - god had he tried - to keep it professional, to keep his distance. 

But you didn’t make it easy. It wasn’t anything you were consciously doing. He might lose his mind entirely if you were to ever intentionally pursue him. He wouldn’t be able to take much of a concentrated effort on your end before completely succumbing to every dirty, greedy thought he’d ever had about you. He hoped he wasn’t too obvious about his fixation on you. He didn’t want to be the stereotypical old pervert trying to poach some young skirt he had no business chasing.

He kept that safe, polite buffer between the two of you - until he just couldn’t bear it any longer.

You knew you should’ve kept your distance - kept it professional. Well, as professional as “I just needed to make some money since I took an entire semester off after a breakdown, so I’m going to do the first thing that lands in my lap which just so happens to be dog walking and sitting for random people in the neighborhood” is. But as you sit here scratching behind Cinnamon’s ears, you knew it would’ve been pointless to avoid the inevitable of finding your favorite dog and favorite owner - or maybe longterm caretaker would be the more appropriate term.

Joel was something special. You’d never met someone like him before, never met a man like him before. Someone dedicated to his family. Someone focused on his work and successful because of it. Someone who was equally charming and goofy. Someone who actually listened to you when you spoke and didn’t try to insert their own take on what you “should’ve done” or condescendingly explain to you how and where it all went wrong.

He was the first person you’d talked to about the real reason you’d abruptly taken a semester off school. You hadn’t even told your parents about the party you never should’ve gone to, the drinks you never should’ve taken, and the friend you were too drunk to take care of. No one but Joel knew about the ongoing investigation and the severed friendship, all because you’d ignored your gut and didn’t put up enough of an argument with your friend about steering clear of that particular fraternity with the notorious reputation.

You’d even admitted to Joel that you felt guilty for coming out of the situation with nothing more than some mental and emotional damage while your friend had been through something no amount of time would ever make right. It should’ve been me and I feel like it’s all my fault were always met with an understanding, comforting touch and word from Joel. His reassurances were the first time you’d actually believed it when someone told you it wasn’t your fault and you experienced something awful, too. 

You’d justified spilling your innermost workings to him since he had Sarah to think about. He could warn her about things like this so she didn’t experience it, too. The idea that ripping yourself open and divulging the hardest, darkest thing you’ve ever been through would help someone else avoid the same experience took one straw off the camel’s back. It wasn’t much, but at least it was something. At least it was a good thing coming from something so wretched and vile.

But then your phone rings, and your fingertips freeze where they scratch Cinnamon’s ears. The number flashes on the screen, and it’s the school. You’d already given numerous interviews and statements over the past three months. They had been waiting for the police investigation to conclude before they made their own determination about the situation.

Your heart drops when the woman on the other end says “no criminal charges” and “insufficient evidence to support the claims.” It feels like a hollow victory when she says the two fraternity members in question would be allowed to finish this semester but are not welcome to complete their degrees at the institution. The indefinite waiver for your academic furlough would expire at the end of this semester.

Cinnamon’s anxious whining breaks your stupor, and you head out on a walk with her to clear your mind.

The house is dark when Joel drives up. Your car was still here, which made the apparent empty house all the more odd. He didn’t realize how accustomed he’d become to coming home to you most nights. Maybe it was just the downpour that was making it hard to tell if a light was still on somewhere in the house. Joel darts from his truck to the front door and lets himself in.

The house is quiet, especially in contrast to the cracks of thunder punctuating the silence every so often. He calls out for you and then Cinnamon but hears nothing. He calls your phone. No answer. Just when he’s beginning to panic about where the hell you could possibly be, the front door opens.

If it weren’t for the downcast expression etched into your features, the sight of you bundling Cinnamon underneath your shirt would’ve been hilarious. You were soaked from head to toe, but Cinnamon’s head popping out of the shared collar of your t-shirt had miraculously stayed mostly dry. Joel helped lower Cinnamon out from your shirt and set her on the ground before straightening back up to inspect you.

“You’re soaked.” He sounds almost impressed with how drenched you’d managed to get.

“I didn’t realize it was about to rain, sorry,” you mumble. “I know Cinnamon hates thunder. I feel like an asshole.”

Joel glances down to a business as usual Cinnamon and back to you. “I think she’ll be alright. I’m more worried about you. Was startin’ to get outta sorts when the house was dark and empty but your car’s in the drive.”

“I wasn’t thinking. I’m sorry,” you apologize, shaking your head.

“Hey, come on. It’s alright. Stay there while I get you a towel, okay?” Without waiting for an answer, Joel lopes to the laundry area to retrieve several large, faded pool towels and unfolds them for you. You whisper a thanks and gingerly wrap one around your shivering body. Now that you were back inside the dry, warm house, you realize just how chilly the rain had made you.

“You’re shaking, honey,” Joel observes. His hand hovers open nearby like he wants to reach out and warm you but is hesitant of the possibility of a negative reception. “Let’s get you—”

“The school called,” you interject. Joel visibly tenses for a moment. “The police said there wasn’t enough proof of anything to press any charges, but the school said they’re allowed to finish out the semester but aren’t welcome back after that. My hiatus expires at the end of the semester. So. Yeah.” A rigid lift and drop of your shoulders doesn’t quite sell the false indifference to the situation you’re attempting to convey.

Cinnamon meanders over to your feet and starts pawing at you and whining. “What is it, Cin? It’s alright. Everything’s okay,” you assure her - lie to her to prevent upset. When you look back to Joel, he’s pinning you with a heavy expression that you can’t quite discern. “What?”

Joel shrugs in an unconvincing manner just as you had. “Just wants to make sure you’re alright. Me ‘n her both.”

You deflate a little, letting your guard down a touch. “I’m okay. I just– I dunno sometimes. It’s a better outcome than what I had expected, but I still feel disappointed.”

“That’s because it’s a fucked up situation, honey,” he soothes. He takes a tentative step towards you and softens when your body relaxes the closer he gets. 

You’re tired of keeping up a front of being okay. You’re tired of pretending that you don’t want to wrap yourself up in the comfort of Joel. When his fingertips skim your forearm and wrap around your elbow, something inside of you snaps. You have to let go of the guilt from things that were completely out of your control. You had to stop telling yourself the story that you didn’t deserve to feel safe and happy after what your friend had gone through. You had to stop letting yourself and the bad things that had happened to you control your life.

Joel’s brows knit together, his eyes searching yours for some clue of where the wash of emotions would drift to next so he could be there before you were swept up in the swell of it. “You’re gonna be okay. I promise. I promise you, you’re not alone,” he vows. Cinnamon noses at your legs and huffs out a bark as if in agreement.

A chill rips through you with the towel draped around you now a sopping wet mess as well. You shiver at the contrasting warmth of Joel’s large hand delicately gripping your arm. He tuts and guides you upstairs to the bathroom in the hallway while he starts rummaging around Sarah’s room for what you assume are some dry clothes.

After a couple of minutes he rushes out looking flushed and nervous, only mumbling something about it being “safer” to go through his own wardrobe. You imagine he must’ve found something very normal for a college aged woman to have but not necessarily something she might want a parent to stumble upon.

Joel is back quickly with a bundle of clothing, and your chest feels tighter at the thought of being shrouded in his things, the smell of him surrounding and blanketing you. You accept the dry clothes and set them aside on the countertop.

“Do you, um– would it be alright if I got a shower? To warm up a little bit?” you ask through chattering teeth.

“Of course, of course,” he replies quickly.

“Okay good. Thanks. I’m pretty sure I’ve got a full chest of hair stuck to me from stuffing Cinnamon inside my shirt,” you snort.

Joel laughs under his breath at the mental image. “The, uh, the shower is– Sarah’s shower is sort of tricky. Haven’t fixed the lever yet,” he half mutters to himself. His eyes settle back on you, unsure of himself, before you fill in the blank for him.

“Oh, if it’s too much of a hassle, I don’t have to,” you counter. “I mean, unless there’s– if there’s some other shower?”

Joel visibly swallows hard at the meandering shift of tension towards something more intimate. “Yeah, come on, you can just use mine.”

He grabs the clothes from the counter and guides you quickly down the hallway through his bedroom. He gives you a quick look over before saying he’ll “be around if you need anything.” Your eyes burn into the back of the bathroom door where Joel’s retreating, broad back had just been. You undress and slip inside the shower, and you think Joel must’ve renovated it himself. It’s a spacious but cozy masculine alcove that is fairly clean. You turn the knob and relax into the heavy stream of water that quickly warms you.

The slip of water takes the chill of your body with it down the drain, and now your body can register the other prominent feeling surging through it. Your hand lathered in Joel’s body wash brushes over your hardening nipples, and you bite back a gasp. You know before your hand even travels further down that you’re going to be wet. Everything in the bathroom looks, feels, and smells like Joel. The ache of him not actually being in here with you is too much to go without. You don’t even bother to finish washing up and decide to turn the shower off.

You slap a towel around you and swing the door open. The room is empty. You walk out of the bathroom, dripping all over the carpeted bedroom floor, and turn when you hear the sound of heavy footfall ascending the stairs. Joel’s head is down as he runs his hands through his hair like he’s trying to shake something loose, and he’s in the doorway before it pops up. He stills the moment he drinks in your half-naked form. You can see him wavering on whether or not to act on the tension in the room when you don’t make a move to cover yourself or slip back into the bathroom for privacy.

“Joel.” It’s a choked whisper of a plea. His eyes flutter shut at the sound of it leaving your lips. You both know the unsaid thing trapped in the utterance of it.

“We can’t,” he protests weakly. He clenches his fists by his sides as he braves to meet your eye. You can see his resolve waning with every quick blink. You track the snake of his gaze down your dripping wet body.

“I’m tired of telling myself I don’t deserve to feel good.”

His eyes tear to yours at that. There’s a simmering turned blazing in it that makes your tummy do a flip. “I want for you to make me feel good. I want to make you feel good, too.” His jaw goes a little slack with your steady, firm admission. He feels it. He can’t deny it. You let the towel fall to the floor and walk towards him, and he leans into your outstretched arms. He doesn’t resist when you guide his mouth to your neck and chest. His tongue swipes and licks across you like he’s chasing the beads of water down your body.

A needy moan rips through you, and the last bit of resolve shatters. You work Joel’s shirt over his head as he yanks his belt and pants off. You stumble backward together onto his bed and feverishly grope and fondle every available inch of skin. You groan in unison when you drag his fingertips down and through the drooling entrance of your pussy. He tests two fingers inched inside you and plunges them to the knuckle of his fist when you roll your hips onto them, searching for that fullness.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head as he works his thick digits slowly back and forth. The damp heat of his mouth on your perked nipples feels like there’s a circuit of arousal between them and your clit where Joel’s thumb rubs in agonizingly precise, low circles.

“So pretty,” he breathes out before grazing a delicate bite of his teeth on a nipple. Your back arches off the bed at the sensation. Your fingers grip through his hair as you frantically push his head down, begging all the while please please your mouth please. A wicked grin curves the line of his mouth at your uninhibited plea for more.

“Yeah? You want me to taste you, honey?” he teases.

You’re practically in tears from the build up and the want and all of this charged energy between you two for the past few months finally coming to a head. You start to plead again, anything to feel his lips and tongue on your pussy, but it shifts to a sobbing whine when he lays a wide, lapping tongue down your slit. Your legs snap together at the sudden influx of sensation, and Joel is quick to drag your thighs onto his shoulders to keep you open for him. An arm over your lower stomach pins you into the fluttering lick of his tongue, and you’re gone the moment he sinks two fingers into you again.

The slap of rain against the window is a white noise much like the whirling silence in your mind as your climax grips you. You’re practically clawing at him to press his weight against you. He lets out a delightful hiss of pleasure when you grip the base of his cock. When you attempt to line him up with your entrance, he stops you.

“We really shouldn’t– I don’t have anything—” He’s faltering, stumbling over his words as he tries to come up with something to talk himself out of burying his entire length into you, to fuck you raw and hard and ignore all sane thought.

“I wanna feel you, Joel, so bad. Please,” you whimper. You know you shouldn’t. You know it’s not responsible. You can’t bring yourself to care when his stiff cock is weeping precum, ready to split you open.

Any and all restraint Joel can muster is no match for your soft whine for him. “S’that how you want it, honey? You wanna feel all’uh me?” he grunts. He presses himself against your folds and drags himself slowly through the pooling slick. Your hands cradle his face and draw him closer. 

“I need you,” you choke out.

“I’m right here, I’m right here, honey. I’ve got you,” he pants. 

He rests his thick tip right at your entrance and holds your gaze as he pushes into you. Your mouth falls open at the heavy split of him inside you. “Fuck,” he hisses. “Feel so fuckin’ good. Fuckin’ tight–goddamn.” You dig your heels into his ass to pull him closer. You’re nearly trembling with bliss when he bottoms out. Your body is a limp wreck when he starts moving in earnest.

“This what ya needed? Needed to be stretched out around me, huh?” he pants. You respond in a series of garbled, high-pitched moans. Joel’s eyebrows knit together with renewed concentration like if he didn’t keep focus he’d come right then and there. “Goddamn, been wantin’ this for so long,” he gasps, hammering his hips into the cradle of your thighs. His hand engulfs the back of your head so that he can prop it up and see in full the state he’s reduced you to, pliant and taking everything he can give you.

Your head lolls side to side gently in his grip, but you manage to lock eyes. It’s a fervid, reverential expression that you can’t quite understand being on the receiving end of, especially from a man as good as this. “That’s it–yeah, that’s it, honey. Right here. Tell me what I’m doin’ to you, huh?” he groans.

“You feel s-so good,” you croak. He rests his forehead against yours and lifts your hips up higher onto him. The slight adjustment has the entire heft and length of him kissing the mouth of your womb with each stroke. You let out an almost hysterical sound at the unyielding command of your body at his touch. The new angle gifts you with Joel’s expression of brows pulled together in pleasure, jaw loose, mouth hanging open and letting out a strangled whimper.

Like an animated corpse sparked to life with splintered lightning, your entire body jolts into an arc of ecstasy as your second orgasm crackles and slices through every nerve ending in your body. Joel fucks you through it for as long as he can before hastily pulling out and spurting all over your stomach with a deep growl reverberating through his chest. You entangle yourselves in each other as you come down from your collective highs.

“So good,” is all you can whisper like a chant. You rake your fingers through his dampened curls and feel as though your body has undergone a factory reset of sorts. Joel slumped over your form feels like a shroud of adoration and protection. You wish you could keep this moment suspended in time, able to visit it whenever and however long you pleased.

Joel’s breath fanning against your ear begins to slow and comes to a steady rhythm before he speaks. “You’re gonna be okay. We’re gonna figure all this out.”

Your school situation. The reality of having to go back there, a place that will never feel safe like it once had. A place where you’d made and now lost one of the closest friends you’d ever had. A place where you’d be expected to pick back up where you left off like everything was normal.

“What if it’s not? What if it’s not okay?” You hate yourself for popping the bubble of euphoria you and Joel had just created, but you can’t keep it in any longer. You can’t keep yourself closed off from Joel anymore, having finally let those gates break down and allowed the engulfing wave of want and need swallow you up. There was no going back on this, whatever this had been. Whatever it was.

Joel pulls back slightly to study your face. His jaw sets with determination even when his eyes stay so soft and gentle for you. “I promise. You ain’t alone. I’m here for you now if you– if that’s somethin’ you want, I mean.”

A lazy smile spreads across your face. “I think I’d like that a lot,” you whisper.

He grins down at you before capturing your mouth in a soft, commanding kiss. One that’s claiming and soothing. You’re getting lost in each other again when you hear the impatient scratch of Cinnamon from the floor. You both reluctantly tear away from each other and look towards the interruption. Cinnamon’s face says I’ve let you have your fun, now somebody get your ass up and feed me. Joel cracks first, erupting into a half-heartedly annoyed round of low laughter. You follow with your own fit of giggles.

He reluctantly extricates himself from the bed and helps clean you up with the towel you’d dropped onto the floor earlier. You’re both somewhat dressed as you head downstairs to tend to Cinnamon. Watching Joel indulge her and give her nuzzle scratches just how she likes fills you with a warm sense of confidence: with somebody like Joel by your side, looking after you and supporting you, things might just really end up okay.

This was written for the @pedrostories Secret Santa Exchange, and it is for my lovely giftee @thirtysevenodddogs! I hope you enjoyed it!

Special thanks to @xdaddysprincessxx for helping me choose the dog breed and name.

Merry Christmas, ♥Puddles♥

[writingquestionsanswered]

how should i go about writing if i keep deleting and restarting everything I have every few minutes ??

The first thing to do is figure out why you feel the need to delete. Here are some things to consider...

1 - Do you know what you're trying to write? It's easy to imagine a writer as sitting down at the keyboard with an empty mind, and then--like turning on a faucet--a story simply flows out of them. But that's not really how writing works. Even the most organic writer sits down with a premise in mind, not to mention a basic grasp of how stories work--or at least they type of story they want to tell. If you sit down without these things and try to write a story, you're pretty much just snatching random ideas out of the air and hoping they take root, and it can be really hard to write a story that way. The solution is to spend some time learning about how stories work, then spend some time thinking up a premise, characters, and a story goal.

2 - Do you need a more solid plan? Not all writers can sit down with only a premise, characters, and story goal and create a story from that. Some of us need to do more planning. Some of us need to do a lot more planning. If you're trying to write a novelette/novella/novel, you might take a look at some different story structure templates to get an idea of the kind of structure that would work well for the story you want to tell. Story structure templates can be a helpful guide in figuring out what beats you need to hit, and you can use elements from different ones. Whatever works for your story. You might also consider doing a plot summary, timeline, scene list, scene cards, or any number of other things to help plan and plot your story.

3 - Are you focusing too much on quality? To (badly) paraphrase Ira Glass, the thing that got you into writing in the first place is your taste... you have good taste in stories, and you know what makes a story good. But if you're just starting out, or if you don't have a large volume of work under your belt, what you're putting out is probably not as good as you want it to be. That can be really, really frustrating, because we know what kind of writing we want to put out there, but when we feel like it's not happening, we want to backspace over it all. The thing is, though, writing is a craft. Like any other craft, the only way to get better at it is to practice, and practice means cranking out the less good stuff and accepting that it's a necessary part of the journey. If dancers watched the choreography for a performance one time and instantly did it perfectly, there would be no such thing as dance practice. If people took one piano lesson and could play a perfect concerto, we wouldn't have piano lessons or practice. So, even when the writing doesn't feel as good as you want it to be--or maybe feels downright awful--you have to push past the urge to backspace over it and get caught up on quality. You have to keep writing forward. And hey... editing and revision exists because there's always room to take the "rough draft" and make it better.

4 - Are you letting yourself get distracted? Few things make writing more difficult than distractions. If you know how stories work, know your premise, have done the planning you need to do, and aren't stressing about quality, but you still find yourself backspacing and starting over every few minutes, it could be due to distractions. If your phone is buzzing every minute, your sister is playing loud music in her room across the hall, the neighbor's dog is barking up a storm, or you can't stop thinking about something that happened at work--those interruptions are going jam up your momentum, and when you're constantly jerking to a stop like that, frustration makes you cranky and you're liable to backspace over something even if it's not a problem. So, if you can, try to eliminate distractions as much as possible when you sit down to write.

5 - Other possibilities... Even if none of the above situations seem to fit, it's still worth taking some time to consider what else might be going on. Can you find a pattern in what you're deleting and why? If you dig deep, and you maybe figure out what the issue is? What are some potential solutions?

I hope something here will help you get to where you're moving forward with your writing again.

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I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

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