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idkfitememate · 4 months

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Pt. 1 (That’s where you’re at!)

Now, you wouldn’t say you were a greedy person… which would be a huge lie because holy shit you were compared to a dragon by your friends more times than your own mother said she loved you-

When you got your paycheck - which was a very handsome paycheck mind you - you hoarded that to the best of your abilities, but when you saw something you had to have? Bought. Spent all your cash on it.

… You have to many plushies-

You weren’t exactly an avid believer in the whole “money makes the world go around!” thing, but it certainly helped. Like, have you seen how happy Elon Musk is? That bitch living the life and you want that too.

But despite your adoration to money…

THAT DID NOT MEAN YOU WANTED TO BE IT!!

₊‧ʚ・︵︵ ₊˚๑ ᕱᕱ ꒱✦ ₊ ︵︵・₊﹆ɞ‧₊

﹒˚ ₊ ︵﹒⊹ ๑ ︵︵ ๑ ⊹﹒︵

When you woke up from a nice nap after a long day of hard labor- I mean work, you couldn’t see. You also couldn’t feel your arms or legs or… well anything in general that one would say when describing their body.

You did have your five core senses though, which is nice. Well… minus sight-

You couldn’t move, and whenever you would scream the people you heard around you - their voices were muffled… were you in a pouch?? - did nothing to help.

You continued for what you assumed to be hours, never once paying mind to the fact that you never got hungry or thirsty or ran out of breath. Then you felt warmth.

Something large and warm wrapped around your form which scared the shit out of you because as far as you were concerned, you were still very human sized. You continued to scream into the darkness as you listened to the… transaction (???) going on above you and-

Wait a minute. You recognized that voice.

A lot of your money went to Genshin Impact in your day, you were what was known in the fandom as a “whale”, did I mention you got payed handsomely?

Yeah it was enough the basically be a sugar parent for all your friends.

So you heavily related to a certain character who was constantly characterized as helping another with his money problems.

Can you guess who it is?

I’ll give you five seconds to guess!

5…

4…

3…

2… fuck it I hate the suspense-

It was Childe!

And hearing his voice above you shattered what you may have thought was happening to you. Yes you may or may not have thought you were being kidnapped-

You then felt yourself get placed on another warm surface and oh god-

“All repairs will be made in a timely manner! Thank you for the patronage!”

You flipped through the air with a small ‘whoosh’ and landed back in the hand.

… WERE YOU FUCKING MORA?????

₊‧ʚ・︵︵ ₊˚๑ ᕱᕱ ꒱✦ ₊ ︵︵・₊﹆ɞ‧₊

﹒˚ ₊ ︵﹒⊹ ๑ ︵︵ ๑ ⊹﹒︵

Being merged to a weapon wasn’t fun.

Well at the very least you weren’t “merged” with a weapon. For some reason the blacksmith couldn’t find a way to use your specific mora body to upgrade Childe’s bow.

So there you sat as a glorified decoration. Right on the front of the bow.

But you did find something out, the second you felt yourself attach to the bow, you could suddenly see! And you could very tell that you were in Liyue, which made sense. And when you coughed on accident, the blacksmith jumped and looked around, before shrugging and turning back to her work, which meant you could now be heard as well!

All five senses back baby!

Only shitty thing was that you couldn’t move on your own, and you now noticed you were no longer hungry nor need to breathe, as well as sleep.

So you were stuck.

For four days.

Unable to speak or move.

I mean, you were still figuring out your existence yourself, no need to get anyone else involved with the process since you were beyond confused.

You’ve read the Isekai stories - and fanfics - but you had never read one personally about being isekaied as money. Yes, you have seen the vending machine one. And the one where he gets turned into a dummy ASMR head mic-

Not the point!

You were just trying to figure out how to… exist (?) like this. Which was pretty hard when coming to terms with the fact that you’d never eat your favorite foods again.

Never again…

“Thank you so much for choosing our services sir! Have a nice day!”

You were suddenly picked up and placed in the gentle care of Childe - ironic sentence I know - and off you both went.

You want to know what a weird sensation is?

Being a bow and feeling someone pluck your string.

Now yeah, that sounds super sensual but it felt more like someone… pulling your hair?? You couldn’t really place it but that was honestly the closest equivalent. Feeling him rub his hands all up and down your… body (?????) was a new experience to. Again, not sensual, just ticklish? And it sucked trying not to giggle-

God this was weird and confusing.

“Well I’m free for some time… I’m sure a little practice won’t hurt…”

Oh good god you could not catch a break.

₊‧ʚ・︵︵ ₊˚๑ ᕱᕱ ꒱✦ ₊ ︵︵・₊﹆ɞ‧₊

﹒˚ ₊ ︵﹒⊹ ๑ ︵︵ ๑ ⊹﹒︵

A new fear had been unlocked within you.

You, a piece of mora crudely attached to a psychopathic killers bow, had just been de-summoned.

And it hurt.

BAD.

No one will ever know what that was like, the feel yourself fading, every atom slowly falling away into nothingness, and then the silence. That cursed silence. Deep dark blackness was what you felt for what appeared to be thousands of years to your still human brain.

Never again would allow yourself to feel that pain.

As you were summoned, you continued to stare off into the distance, coming to terms with what you had just witnessed while ignoring every word that came out of Childe’s mouth.

Something or other about practicing you couldn’t give a shit.

You only watched the changing scenery around you as you and Childe wandered aimlessly through a forest.

Then he dropped to his knees suddenly, which cause you to silently curse and sputter in shock.

Did you mention you got good at that? Being silent? Because you did.

Being that you were placed on the front of the bow, you could see perfectly where he was aiming, that being a small bird that you had to squint - how you squinted? You don’t know - to see.

It was ridiculously far away, covered in leaves. You were also slightly scared because Childe was being silent.

Childe. Silent.

Not two words you ever expected to put into the same sentence - again - but here you were.

You felt the bow string being pulled back, and him lining up the shot.

Then, you felt something course through you.

Obviously it was the Hydro infused arrow he knocked onto the string, but something else flowed through you.

You could feel yourself reaching, trying to connect with something to better control this sudden power flow, and then you found a great source.

His Hydro Vision.

₊‧ʚ・︵︵ ₊˚๑ ᕱᕱ ꒱✦ ₊ ︵︵・₊﹆ɞ‧₊

﹒˚ ₊ ︵﹒⊹ ๑ ︵︵ ๑ ⊹﹒︵

Childe was a seasoned soldier and fighter, literally anyone who met him could tell you that.

He kept that fact near and dear to his heart, that fact being why he fought so hard, to become stronger and finally find that fight that would be the end of him.

He longed for the day where he would be strong enough to fight his mentor, and weak enough to die at someone who he saw worthy enough to end his stories and legacy.

… Legacy was such a funny word to the man as all he could think of when it was spoken was his second, stronger form, Foul Legacy. Ironically, that’s what he though historians would call his stories in the far future - he would never admit how close it was due to the Electro Delusion that sapped away at his life, slower due to his strength but sucking away his soul nonetheless - would call it, a Foul Legacy.

He was self-aware enough to understand that people hated him, yet oblivious enough to leave his family in the hands of The Rooster, a man known for leveling cites before they even had the chance to riot against himself and the Tsaritsa.

He was complex in the same way he was so easy to understand.

Just as how he allowed the world to see his Vision but kept his Delusion hidden.

Just recently he had gotten his bow repaired after a… well not a hard mission more so than it was annoying.

And by the Archons it was beautiful! Any and all scratches and marks had been repaired, a new layer of pain was an added, a stronger string was restrung into it and just… mmm she was beautiful.~

The finishing touch was the little golden emblem stuck directly on the front. So shiny and pretty…

He just had to take it for a test run!

Nothing too big or anything, just a little hunting as he hadn’t indulged himself recently. Just a couple small birds or mammals nothing anyone would notice.

… No that isn’t a human corpse nu uh ya stupid-

Besides that wasn’t with his bow! That was with his blades it doesn’t count!

But anyway, he quickly spotted his first target of the day, a little finch, and aimed.

He noted that his bow, while still heavy, felt much more sturdy and the current string was stronger than his last, most likely due to the whole “new string” thing rather than being better because that old string had weathered a lot.

He quickly knocked his first arrow and took a silent breath in, calming his shaking hands and the butterflies in his stomach. Of course neither were from fear or nervousness rather than they were from excitement and dare I say ecstasy. A smile forceably carved itself into him skin as he watched how easily Hydro infused itself with his arrow.

Though almost immediately after, he felt a sudden surge of power coming from not him nor the arrow, but the bow itself.

Specifically the small golden piece sitting front and center.

This was either an unknown or well known fact depending on who you asked, but the bow was Childe’s worst used weapon. He was much more skilled with a blade - like his duel Hydro blades or the duel-bladed polearm he wielded as Foul Legacy - and he even had some experience with a catalyst, but bows just seemed so.. cowardly. Even with his catalyst he was near to his opponents as its attacks were based on his fighting style, but he personally believed that bows were for the cowardly.

Those who wanted to fight but were too weak to even dare step foot onto a battlefield.

At least that’s what he thought before Capitano shoved a bow into his arms as he complained about needing something more to do. A new challenge.

And it opened his eyes.

Bows were not for the weak rather that they were for the stealthy. Something Childe was not the best at.

He was honestly more of a ‘punch more and talk later’ kind of guy. But the bow was forcing him to learn and grow, which was more than welcome in his book.

But this power was not something he had accessed yet. Hell, he’s barely felt anything like it with any other of his weapons. Closest he has ever gotten to this kind of power would be with Foul Legacy, and even then it’d be a stretch.

He’d even have the gall to say he could never feel this kind of power from his Master.

He watched as the area he sat in was bathed in a blue glow was his Vision and the arrow he still held grew brighter and brighter. With that, a gold shined through as the small golden piece on his bow - which now that he looked closer looked almost exactly like a piece of mora, just with the details buffered out - also glowed.

He couldn’t remember picking up any kind of ‘enchanted’ mora, just one random one he found on the roads right outside of Liyue.

It didn’t seem off in anyway-

His thoughts were cut off as Hydro swirled faster and stronger around him, knocking him off his knees and onto his ass, his grip on the arrow and bow tightening.

All the animals ran - of course including the small finch he was aiming for - from the sounds and lights, and something deep and primal inside of him wanted to run as well.

Something screamed that he wasn’t supposed to see this, to feel this.

Something was wrong.

Soon enough he couldn’t keep his grip on the arrow.

He let go.

₊‧ʚ・︵︵ ₊˚๑ ᕱᕱ ꒱✦ ₊ ︵︵・₊﹆ɞ‧₊

﹒˚ ₊ ︵﹒⊹ ๑ ︵︵ ๑ ⊹﹒︵

Everything was a blur to you.

All you knew was that you had to let go of this build up of power.

You had to.

Something bad would happen if you didn’t and god damn it you weren’t about to find out.

You truly, desperately, just wanted to go home.

The songs of narwhals and whales comforted you.

‘You will be okay’ they sang.

You would be okay.

Just let go.

₊‧ʚ・︵︵ ₊˚๑ ᕱᕱ ꒱✦ ₊ ︵︵・₊﹆ɞ‧₊

﹒˚ ₊ ︵﹒⊹ ๑ ︵︵ ๑ ⊹﹒︵

People in the city watched in shock as a forest not too far from the harbor became a light show of Hydro and golden light.

Small animals and creatures ran towards the city, this including monsters, but nothing stopped to attack. In fact, it seemed like everything was too scared to even consider attacking.

Ningguang and her guards quickly ran outside to asses the situation, meeting up with fellow Vision Holders on the edge of the city.

However, Xingqiu and Yelan seemed… out of it. And on top of that, Childe - though he wasn’t her favorite he was strong and could be of help - was no where to be found.

“Does anyone have a grasp on the situation?” Nigguang asked, only to receive shaken heads and no’s.

“I tried to get close,” started Xiao, “But something knocked me back. I was able to hear the Harbinger’s screams from inside, and from what I could gather, he doesn’t seem to be the… direct cause.” Despite what he said, Xiao seemed a bit upset at the fact that Childe wasn’t the true cause, likely just wanting an excuse to beat him up a little.

The Geo ridden Lady huffed befit finally turning her attention to the two Hydro users who seemed entranced by the lights.

“What are you-“

“They call to us.” Xingqiu cut her off.

“They sing for us.” Yelan finished.

Nigguang looked back to everyone else who simply shrugged, before noticing Zhongli also looked out of it, though before she could get a word out, he also spoke.

“It’s so calming… I have not felt true peace like this in…”

He didn’t even finish his sentence. His eyes, unlike the two Hydro users, were entranced by the golden lights that highlighted the light show.

Nigguang’s face was filled with confusion. Though she shook it off.

And again, before she could give out any orders, she was interrupted.

Though not by anyone, but by the lights themselves.

A flash of blue light blinded the group.

Then, the song of a group of narwhals and whales filled the sky.

₊‧ʚ・︵︵ ₊˚๑ ᕱᕱ ꒱✦ ₊ ︵︵・₊﹆ɞ‧₊

﹒˚ ₊ ︵﹒⊹ ๑ ︵︵ ๑ ⊹﹒︵

Blue and gold light enveloped near all of Liyue, the show being noticeable by all surrounding nations, Mondstadt especially.

And the air filled with the song of Narwhal and Whale alike.

A miracle of All-Devouring Narwhals and All-Encompassing Whales swam into the sky, dancing through the clouds.

They flew gently over Liyue, the nation having been stunned into shock and stillness over the whole situation.

Nigguang watched with bated breath as they sailed by the Jade Palace, only exhaling when they passed with not problem.

Keqing watched from beside Nigguang, mesmerized at the trail of celestial power flowing behind them.

Xiao rushed up buildings in order to get closer, but was knocked back by the sheer force of their power, though he was caught by a worried Ganyu. Both landed by an armed-and-ready Shenhe, who was more than ready to attack if need be.

Xingqiu and Yelan simply stared up at the miracle, their Visions resonating with Hydro energy they released. They felt empowered, and could feel the pure raw and unfiltered strength rolling off them in waves. They wanted to be close to that power. Wanted to feel that power.

Something deep inside them wanted that power.

Everyone in the city watched as the miracle flew just above their homes and businesses, making their presence all the more apparent as they bathed the golden city in royal blue.

This continued until a small bird was dumb enough to try and take flight to get away.

This bird being the one Childe had targeted- not that anyone knew.

The Whales and Narwhals corralled the bird, forcing it to fly higher and higher into the clouds, and it wasn’t long before all ginormous creatures followed behind it.

Then an even brighter flash of blue echoed across the skyline, small star-like glitters falling to Teyvat then fading from existence before they could touch its surface. A small amount of feathers followed after.

Nigguang could feel her jaw drop.

All that… to kill a bird?????

… She was going to need a week off just to comprehend what had just happened.

Keqing pat the woman on the back, sighing in tiredness as well.

She had a sneaking suspicion that Childe may have had something to do with this… event. Gods the paperwork she was about to be loaded with…

₊‧ʚ・︵︵ ₊˚๑ ᕱᕱ ꒱✦ ₊ ︵︵・₊﹆ɞ‧₊

﹒˚ ₊ ︵﹒⊹ ๑ ︵︵ ๑ ⊹﹒︵

Childe had figured out what primal instinct had led him to hide in the cave he was currently tucked in.

Foul Legacy.

He had yet to really tell anyone, but due to his time in the Abyss and its creation, it was safe to say it pretty much had a mind of its own. Which wasn’t bad as it would help him to doge attacks or alert him of presences he may not have noticed himself, but the shrieking and crying he heard from it deep in his soul was enough to tell him that this whole situation was wrong.

Nothing about what just happened should have been… well it shouldn’t have happened to say anything.

He could still hear it, resonating deep inside his soul, Electro cracking out whenever he heard a noise he couldn’t identify.

It was protecting him.

As he would for it.

He didn’t dare draw another arrow from the bow in his grasp, not until he learned what the fuck just happened. Including the fact that for some odd reason, he desperately wanted to just… stare(?) at the Narwhals and Whales until they disappeared, luckily Foul Legacy snapped him right out of that and told him to find shelter.

He did have his Hydro blades out, however, patiently waiting till he - and Foul Legacy - felt safe enough to exit.

A sudden loud caw of a bird made him flinch - not his proudest moment - and kick the bow to the side. What he wasn’t expecting was the loud string of curses that came from… the… bow..?

So now it was pinned to the wall by one blade and a foot, the other blade pointed directly at… it? There were no weak points on a bow..?

…Were there..?

₊‧ʚ・︵︵ ₊˚๑ ᕱᕱ ꒱✦ ₊ ︵︵・₊﹆ɞ‧₊

﹒˚ ₊ ︵﹒⊹ ๑ ︵︵ ๑ ⊹﹒︵

This is not what you wanted.

First, you get isekaied against your will; you didn’t even remember how you supposedly DIED… if you DID die anyway…

Two, you were reincarnated as MONEY. FUCKING MONEY. How does that… who comes up with that??? A fucking high schooler who has nothing better to do than write shitty fanfiction????

And finally, three… HE KICKED YOU!!! WHO GAVE HIM THE RIGHT TO THREATEN YOU?!?

You didn’t understand your powers, what the FUCK just happened, why Hydro just… became?? you??? And why on gods green earth you had to be MORA. You’re never gonna get over that you became MORA???? Like??? Really??????? Money????? You mean, you love the stuff but COME ON-

Jesus fuckin’-

Huffing at the man before you, you finally decided speak to this bitch before you because how dare he.

“Listen here-“

You were cut off by the blade moving closer to your body(??????) and Childe growling - yes. Growling - at you.

“No you listen. I don’t know what you are but what in the name of the Tsaritsa was that?”

If only this man could see your eye twitch.

“No how about YOU listen? I don’t know what the fuck that was, but I plan on figuring it out now could you PLEASE MOVE YOUR DAMN BLADES FROM MY FACE?!?!? God…”

The Hydro blades slowly removed themselves from your face, as did the boot. But you were then picked up by the man, held shockingly gently in his grip.

“What… are you?” He asked hesitantly.

“I… I honestly don’t know how to answer that question. But I’m pretty sure I’m that little Mira piece on the front.” You answered. You forced yourself to calm down. This wasn’t his fault, just so happened to be the guy who picked you up… this was going to be a mantra for a while…

“Oh… so your this little thing right here?” You felt his fingers wrap around you - and you mean your real body - and pull. Fear immediately filled your being.

“Wait! WAIT!-“ He tugged you right out, rendering you silent.

When he pulled you out, your body glowed and you reverted back to looking like a regular piece of mora. Engravings and all.

You, meanwhile, were screaming your head off, as you now knew that if removed from a weapon, you’d just be a regular ass piece of money again. Immediately you mind started racing, wondering as to way, and the only thing you could come up with was the Elemental Energy, but lore wasn’t really your strong suit… you just liked the pretty women and men…

You felt yourself gently being pressed into the slot carved for you in his bow, and started talking again.

“NEVER! Do that again, please. Unless absolutely necessary, don’t do that. You know how terrifying it is to be able to see and speak then move a couple inches and no longer be able to see or have others hear you? Fucking horrifying I’ll tell you that…” you watched the man shiver before sighing.

“Noted. Um… anything else I should be made aware of before I ask anymore questions?”

You jumped on the opportunity.

“Whenever I am apart of your weapons. Don’t. De. Summon. Them. Hurts like hell. Ever felt your molecules beings torn apart bit by bit? Not fun, don’t recommend it.” Again, Childe shivered.

“Now… you really don’t know what that was out there?” He asked again, and you sighed.

“I wish I did. I’ll admit, I was thinking of that one move you use as Foul Legacy where you summon a Whale… and a bit of your master…”

You watched as Childe’s eyes lit up.

“You know of Foul Legacy? And of my Master?” Then his eyes darkened.

“How do you know of them..?” You shivered… as well as money can shiver anyway.

“Uhm… magic?” You asked, a noticeable tilt in your voice.

His glare then lightened up.

“Oh! Like… when you attach to a weapon, you suddenly gain a bunch of knowledge on that person?” Holy shit he just gave you a way out!

“Uh… yeah! Yeah that’s exactly what it is! You figured it out! Sorry I was uh… hesitant. Just didn’t want to reveal all my secrets, you know?” Holy shit. Holy fuck. Please work please work-

“That’s really amazing! A magical piece of mora… with the ability to make your attacks beyond that of a God’s… heheheh…”

Oop. Shit. That was not good.

“Listen. I’m not going to do anything for you without my consent, you got that? I’m not even here of my own free will mind you. Just gained sentience in your bag and all of a sudden I’m a bow. This is going to be a symbiotic relationship or I’m finding someone else, alright?” You spoke up, not even hiding the fact that you were… well a little more than concerned with what he just said.

“… What are you going to do if I don’t respect your wishes?” Shit fuck shit fuck-

“… I will scream next time you use me.”

And into a standstill you both sat.

He stared at you and he could feel you glaring into him. It was probably weird feeling a bow glare into him. New feeling he never thought he’d feel before.

“… Alright. Taking someone’s free will isn’t really something I do anyway. So don’t be fearful… comrade?” Was he asking your name..?.. Eh. Comrade is nice and you don’t feel like giving it out so meh.

“Comrade works. And uhm… yeah.” Welp that was awkward. Good job 👍🏾!

The two of you continued to stare at each other in silence for a few moments.

“So… what’s your favorite dish?”

“I can’t eat asshole-“

“Childe!”

The mentioned man whipped his head in the direction of the call, honestly scaring you with how fast it moved - you are a hundred percent sure you heard a crack.

By the covered entrance of the cave stood Nigguang, Keqing, Zhongli and both Hydro Vision users. Nigguang was the one to call him.

“What are enough doing out here? Do you have any idea was caused… whatever that was?? And - as much as I hate to ask - are you alright?” She was firing questions out at an extreme speed, making both you and Childe dizzy.

“Uhm… I was hunting, I… haven’t the foggiest idea what you’re talking about! And yes , I am okay. Thank you for asking?” You knew he sucked ass a lying but like… how did that sound convincing in anyway?? The hesitation just made it worse!-

“You haven’t the foggiest clue, you say…” Keqing asked while glaring at the ginger. Ed She Ran lookin’ headass-

“Yep! No idea, not the slightest idea, definitely wasn’t my bow or the enchanted mora on it! Nope not at all.”

The group looked at him, and he looked at them.

They looked at him, and he looked at them.

And this went on for several minutes before this super smart man said:

“Yep, not me at all.”

And before anyone coup ask questions you groaned, forcing all attention into yourself before tearing him a new one.

“You dumb motherfucker! “I haven’t the foggiest idea😢” my ass!”

“How did you say that?-“

“Shut your bitchass up before I see it shut. I should beat your ass for that. How they fuck you gonna say some shit like that and expect them to just go “Oh okay!😚” like some dumbass?”

“No really how-“

“I will slap the stupid outta you don’t fucking test me ginger bitch. Fatherless. That’s why your father sold you ass off it’s cause you so DAMN stupid, Jesus.”

“Mora?”

“What do you fucking want you cunt.”

“… We’re still in front of people.”

“… I will not hesitate to shoot all of you-“

… Nigguang was going to have so much paperwork tonight.

MORA!READER MORA!READER MORA!READER MORA!READER MORA!READER LETS GIVE IT UP FOR MORA!READER!!!!! ૮꒰˶ᵔ ᗜ ᵔ˶꒱ა˖⁺‧₊˚

They’re here you guys!!!! Get happy get wild!!!! Holy shit that ending was mild!!! I hate it!!! Anyway-

This is gonna SAGAU because… meh. But that doesn’t matter! Their here! But I’m not done yet, next thing on my checklist is humanizing the animals (Main ones) so I’ll be be radio silent for a bit again lmao (unless I choose to post shit which is very likely-) ໒꒰ྀི´ ˘ ` ꒱ྀིა

Hope you enjoyed the first chapter of Mora!Reader! More is, of course, on the way! ૮꒰ྀི∩´ ᵕ `∩꒱ྀིა

Have a magnificent day/night my dears!~

/)/)

( . .)

c( づ♡ Loves you guys!! <3

#genshin impact sagau #sagau x reader #sagau #x reader #x gn reader #gn y/n #yandere x reader #yandere x you #Mora!Creator

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coralinnii · 3 months

Note

Congrats on 2.7k followers!! You deserve it! :D For the event, may I request Malleus, Azul, Jade and Floyd with a gentle giant S/O? As you can already guess, S/O is super tall (you can change this detail if you’d like, but perhaps they’d even be noticeably taller than Malleus?) and maybe even kind of intimidating because of it, but they’re very friendly, quiet, and gentle.

Again, congratulations on your achievements!! Keep up the great work you’re doing 🥳

‧₊˚✧ My Statuesque Sweetheart ‧₊˚✧

↳ Tall Gentle Giant/Reader

feat: Malleus ❋ Azul ❋ Jade ❋ Floyd genre: fluff note: no pronouns were used with the reader, I love beluga whales (it’ll make sense in Jade’s ver.),

Sooo…being someone that can’t relate to being tall :I, I went around to ask some of my taller friends to know what’s that like, so this took longer cuz of research. I also got into Genshin to prep for another prompt someone asked me and dang, do I gotta research on that too.

Similar prompt: Tall!reader who loves hugs

2.7K Followers Writing Event 2023

You were certainly a surprise to him. In his long years, rarely does he find people where he doesn’t have to tilt his head down for once.

Despite your height, you were as cute and friendly as a woodland creature, a contrast to Malleus who exudes regal power without much effort. He’s fascinated by you as your stature can command the room yet your energy has a rather soothing effect on him and those around you.

Man is saying you have zero scary dog energy, and that is adorable to him.

If you’re the affectionate type, congratulations! You’d be one of the few to be able (and allowed) to reach his horns. What started as curiosity soon became a habit as you made it your love language to care and clean Malleus’ iconic features. As a bonus, everytime you are done it’s fun to lay your head gently upon Malleus’, between his horns which catches him off guard no matter how often it happens.

Having a tall man with money certainly has privileges as you now have access to his personal tailor as well. Was there a pair of pants you really like but it only reached your ankles? Not anymore, let the royal tailor deal with that and add some matching accessories to that.

However you feel about your height, you are a sublime creature of beauty to Malleus. When he looks up to you smiling at him with the shining moon behind you highlighting your tall outline, he hasn’t seen anyone more otherworldly than you.

You stand out amongst every human I have encountered. Hm? Ah, I do not refer to your stature but rather… the way you effortlessly capture my attention and ensnare my thoughts with visions of you.

Azul being around an incredibly tall person? What else is new? Azul doesn’t feel all that insecure about his height, before or after meeting you.

Well, you’re definitely the most pleasant person he knows that towers over him, at least. He knows that many, him included, would use your sort of stature as an advantage over others. Instead, he likes your rather sweet nature and way of conduct.

If you have stretch marks due to your rapid growth spurts, Azul would feel absolutely touched if you trusted him enough to show it. Azul would genuinely praise your resilience to may have been an aching and painful experience to go through. If you let him, he could create a potion to get rid of the marks if it truly makes you insecure, but he finds you beautiful no matter what.

Watch him flinch and get flustered anytime you wrap your arms around him, smothering him with your taller form. You would laugh to see him so easily out of sorts if you press your weight onto him. He can handle it of course, but the heat of your all-encompassing hugs is vastly different from his time in the cold sea.

Azul would provide certain things that would suit your needs that others may overlook. Suddenly, you would find blankets that can cover you entirely, or you were gifted a coat that is actually a long coat that doesn’t awkwardly cut off at a weird length on you. Mirrors in Azul’s private room are always suspiciously up to your eye-level whenever you visit.

He’s happy to know that you see him as someone reliable regardless of that. He has an interesting way of showing his appreciation

Do you like the new decor of the Mostro Lounge? The new additions are quite beautiful and eye-catching. The tall but dazzling designs were inspired by you, after all.

Oh my. What a sight to behold, you are.

Jade doesn’t seem like the type to brag about his advantageous height, but he is aware that not many can reach his stature and even fewer actually pass him in that regard.

He still treats you as courteously as he always does, even more so as the two of you start to grow closer.

A nice bonus about having a tall boyfriend is that most of the things in his room are perfect for you! Beds you can fully stretch out in, actual full-length mirrors that don’t make you bend down, and furniture that doesn’t require you to squish yourself into. Jade’s (and Floyd’s) has become one of your favorite places to visit.

He does find it amusing that some people may find you intimidating because of your height as he knows that you were far from any definition of that word. Jade would chuckle to himself whenever he sees you getting happy or excited, like watching a playful beluga whale squeaking in joy. Your gentle features and bright smile shines through any misconceptions of your intimidating form.

Though not quite used to it, Jade doesn’t mind having to crane his neck to meet your gaze. Especially not when he could watch your adorable quizzical expression as he asked you to lower your head to him, only to whisper teasing words into your ear. He especially finds it fun to watch you jump to your full height in flustered surprise, even occasionally bumping your head on a hanging decoration.

Really, how could he resist you?

Do you need rest, my love? Perhaps a cup of tea can soothe your aches and joints while you sit.

Oh, Floyd would have no issues with you being taller than him. Probably the opposite, really.

Don’t @ me but I fully believe Floyd has a thing for legs, be it his own or others. He’s so fascinated by these human features that you may even catch him blatantly staring appreciatively at your legs.

“What’s the big deal? They’re right there, who can blame me?”

He will however, with full confidence, laugh his lungs out if you hit your head on the door frame or trip on an ottoman seat you didn’t notice. Maybe he’ll rub the ouchie away but he’ll be laughing while he does.

Be prepared for impromptu fashion shows with custom made shoes to show off your gorgeous mile-long legs. Floyd could spend hours looking through online shopping with you, showing you websites that specifically cater to tall drinks of water like yourself.

This man will be floored by the experience of being the little spoon of a hug. To be able to lean into your arms and rest his head on your chest, listening to your heartbeat while you lovingly pat his hair? You can be unknowingly smothering him and he’ll be loving every moment of it.

Regardless if you’re confident or not, Floyd loves to take you dancing. If you’re not confident in your dancing, Floyd is more than happy to lead you with every beat until you have fun. The man just loves to see the flashing lights paint your body, with your smile being the brightest of them all.

Did you get taller, Shrimpy? Aha ha, just pulling your leg there! Though, wouldn’t make a difference to me. You’re still a hottie even if you, hehe!

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rel124c41 · 16 days

Text

VISCERA. floyd leech

Held in Floyd’s hand is a single fish fork. It incandesces like a lamp, and when you blink, the contour is burnt on your inner eyelids. “Can I taste you?” OR; Floyd is trying and failing to confess to Mostro Lounge's new line-cook.

tags: cooking, not actually unrequited love, courting rituals, cannibalistic thoughts, developing relationships, food as a metaphor for love, blood kink, first kiss, wingman jade, underage smoking, culinary crucible (twst), they're sooo in love ur honor

word count: 17,669

You do not like the look in Azul’s eyes. To be frank, you do not think you have once seen a favorable expression on the roulette wheel of masks Azul Ashengrotto wears. So, backtracking, you have never liked the look in Azul’s eyes (even more so now).

This one you have seen before: right at the point where the words ‘I heard if someone makes a deal with you, you’ll grant any wish’ fell from your mouth when you wanted to snip anemones off Grim, Deuce, and Ace’s heads.

Originally, you did not have the drive to save all two hundred and twenty-five students. Only those three. Even with the title Prefect, you could have cared less about NRC’s student body until Azul sought to amp up the risk and reward. You accepted his offer for thrill and entertainment, loving the taste of it.

Now, you stand in the VIP room with that similar atmosphere perfuming the air. Old paper and pen ink, the scent of an odious deal about to be struck. You challenge Azul’s self-assured look with an equally authoritative simmer. Your expressions size each other up like claymores on a battlefield. Azul is the first one to break first. He raises a hand and says, “Jade. Floyd. You are dismissed.” He even sends away his reinforcements in this warfare.

Leaving himself vulnerable like that? … No, backtrack again, Azul is far from a vulnerable student.

“Aw, but I wanna hear her answer!”

“Come now, Floyd. We shall be made aware of their decision at a later time.”

“No fun Azul.” Still, the door closes behind the twins. Now, it is just you and Azul alone. Like two shipwrecked survivors in a rowing boat. You are sure he knows you will go for the jugular upon the sight or scent of blood.

He gestures towards the space between you two, two sofas and a table. “Prefect, why don’t –”

“I’ll stand.”

Ah, Azul thinks fondly, that callousness that managed to ensnare one of Octavinelle’s slipperiest and mischievous fish. Still. A knot forms in Azul’s cheek in vexation. Your audacity and Azul’s are matched up so evenly that he almost wonders if you two share the same Zodiac sign.

“So be it.”

You cross your arms as Azul continues. “A talent of yours has been brought to my attention. I was hoping that we could discuss it peacefully,” his blue eyes narrow, taking your stone-like stature, “without any hostility … But, no matter, it is still worth discussing.”

“I thought the Ramshackle dorm is the only asset of mine that has value.” Your posture shifts, straightening. “If it has to Aduece or Grim, you can forget it.”

“Aduece …? Um, no, nothing of the sort. It is strictly something brought to my attention during –”

There is this thing about Octavinelle. More like Octavinelle’s atmosphere. It clings in the air like a heavy candle scent, suctioning itself to the wallpaper, aquarium tank glass panels, and each stitch of the Octavinelle uniform. Something that stalks like a shark. It is a presence you label: viscera.

A stomach and intestines is a viscera and a viscera is a stomach and intestines. You feel if you ever drop your armor around Octavinelle, gastrointestinal acid will come to consume you. The jaws tunneling down to the belly of Jonah’s whale is just a show of weakness away. It is why you act so callous now.

You always try to keep yourself schooled in the trio’s presence. “--During the Culinary Crucible.” And with that, viscera returns to you when those words leave Azul’s mouth. You feel like you just drank spoiled milk. Before he can accuse you of anything, you speak.

“You were one of my judges. I hope you aren’t going to make a baseless acquisition like food-poisoning. Remember, two other people ate what I served you.”

“I also remember, quite clearly, that you were one of the four students able to get a perfect score of thirty.”

Spoiled milk is too weak of a rotten flavor. You feel like you have just dug into a garbage bin and picked the last mold-crusted food item, all the way at the bottom of the barrel, sponging up all other rotten seasonings. To have something of yours peak Azul's interest again … it is not a nice taste. You are quick to shut down what you know has probably already been formulating in Azul’s head.

“Dumb luck. Floyd also got a perfect score.” Him, Trey, Jamil, and yourself.

“You seem to forget I was one of your judges too. I thought you had a more effective memory than that, Prefect.”

Floyd getting a perfect score could be more closely aligned to dumb luck than you. Which is not to say it was dumb luck. Nonetheless, stars and planets happened to align as Floyd was in a good mood while cooking and Jade was a judge out of three others; it just happened. Your food though? Azul runs a restaurant. He can taste experience and talent on the edge of a fork.

Coupled with your experience and talent, you are not an ignorant individual either. Which is why you sit down, imaging that this conversation is going to drag. You ignore Azul’s smile.

Elbows on knees, you drill in, “So, what? You want me to replicate a meal for you? Getting the twins to drag me here is a bit excessive for another bite of lamb and oysters.”

“I would rather monopolize that talent beyond just one simple meal. You’re thinking too small, Prefect.”

“You’re thinking too big.”

You really wish you had magic, just to reverse time. Even if you were a mage, you doubt you would even have the skill to master such a complex spell. But, you would master it. To reverse time and find a way to get a different judge not named Azul Ashengrotto. The line-up for your judges at the Culinary Crucible was three housewardens: Riddle Rosehearts, Kalim Al-Asim, and Azul Ashengrotto. Grim had panicked at the trio, thinking both of you would be losing your elective credit. As always, you took the reins and got you both out of the whale’s stomach before digestion.

“I was thinking: the fruits of your talents are quite wasted. Who do you cook for? That ungrateful cat-beast has no refined palate; he would eat table scraps if presented to him. Ace and Deuce, neither of them are grateful for the meals you must provide. You are surely underappreciated.”

“Wow, you clearly don’t think at all.” You eye a section of the VIP room in exasperation, close enough to the eye-roll you desperately want to do. “You think – what? – I don’t get enough thank you’s and I’m suddenly going to do what exactly?”

Azul almost deflates. It is surprising how easy you can sometimes manage to get him that way. He chooses to straighten a few pencils on his desk as a means to straighten and iron out the imperfections of his approach. Glasses tilted down, Azul answers, “I mean no offense to your friends. But, I think you are not getting proper payment. No, that I know.”

“Unbelievable.” You tsk, falling into the embrace of the seat. “You think the world runs on money.”

“Does it not?”

“...”

“Your silence tells me all I need to know.”

“You want me to work at the Lounge, don’t you?”

“Yes. A much better use of your talents, don’t you think?”

In your head, you imagine the taste of umami takoyaki. A cleaver is raised with the vindication of a French guillotine; when judgment falls, it hits the thick part of Azul’s upper arm. Which would be more ironic: selling Azul’s body parts or eating them?

Below you, your foot taps on the wooden floor. A restless rabbit pittering that gives the housewarden some insight into your otherwise stone expression. Azul must be so certain that you are thinking of throwing in the towel right then and there. Really, you are thinking of Ruggie. Ruggie and the Intra-school Competition. For that time briefly, he had worked in Mostro Lounge, wearing his ceremony robes.

You and Ruggie are very close, lesser than the trio you had dubbed your own, but still more than your other first-years. So one day, he regaled you with the story of working for Azul Ashengrotto just to fill up talking space.

The situation of the broken glass and Floyd’s moodiness. The situation of the kitchen lacking people and Azul having to send servers into the back to help cook. Those are two factors you really have to roll around in your head. You do not like to be rushed and you are wary of Floyd’s penduluming moods.

Though Ruggie has a positive outlook of the rewards he reaps from that time, you do not think you can handle working in Mostro Lounge. You squeeze by with the money you make. However, “You pay well?”

“I assure you will have proper compensation for your labor.”

“Could you stop being scummy and just tell me the hourly rate?”

“For your skills – if they aren’t dumb luck – you’re looking at twenty-eight per hour.”

You know what? The world really does run on money.

While not an expert at mental math, even you know that with just a twenty hour work week, that kind of money would shift the motion of your boat, put more wind under your sails. Monetary motivation is perhaps the most powerful thing in the world.

Expression still schooled, you contemplate it. Accepting this … you imagine yourself tiny, using a tongue as a diving-board into a devilish pit of gnashing teeth and churning tentacles. Right into the belly of the beast. The conjured up image makes you want to shudder. Instead, your soft enamels move and your tongue articulates, “I’m gonna need smoke breaks every two hours.”

Oddly enough, out of all the times you pressed him, this one catches Azul by visible surprise. “Sm-Smoke breaks? … why, I suppose that is acceptable.” That is far from unreasonable, surprising but not unreasonable. “I’m glad that we could come to –”

“And I’m going to need more time to even consider it. That isn’t a yes. I’m outlining terms.”

“Perfectly fine. I was actually going to outline this,” you and Azul lock eyes. “Just in case what I tasted was dumb luck, in a week, I wanted you to return to Mostro Lounge during closing hours. You’ll cook a meal for three judges again, myself included. Then, this conversation will become serious.”

“I will not sign a contract.”

“This is employment; no contract is required. You labor – cook. I pay. Such is the usual transaction of jobs.”

Despite the feeling of a tongue slimming itself across your spine and teeth nibbling on your toes like garra rufa, you think that does not sound too devastating.

A week passes; you decide to keep your discussion with Azul concealed to yourself. There is this epidemic going around NRC called the lost art of keeping a secret. You decide for your mental well-being that you will wait for a week to pass, serve your meal to Azul and two other mysterious persons, and then, spill your guts to Ace, Deuce, and Grim.

You have a close call though, guts almost prematurely ripped from your abdomen. The familiar feeling of teeth on your jugular creeps up onto you in the cafeteria. Fingers agile, you press your plastic fork into another’s jugular and greet him, “Hi Floyd.”

Held hostage by your plastic fork dug into his throat, Floyd smiles and cheers, “Shrimpyyy! Thought I could surprise you this time.”

“Nah, not fast enough. Next time though.” You smile sweetly..

You do not hate Floyd Leech. Though, he is far from your favorite student. The label of friendship does not really fit on him (despite the fact he thinks the opposite). Out of everyone in Octavinelle, the presence of viscera glues itself to him. Carnivorous teeth coupled with his predator adroitness screams belly of the beast to you.

Which is why you fend him off with a plastic fork.

“Hehehe, next time then,” Floyd grins. He leans in, uncaring of how plastic folds on his pallid throat. “Azul-y told me that ya remembered I got a perfect score.”

For a second, you have no idea what he is talking about. You share a grand amount of two classes with Floyd; you do not remember him getting perfect marks in either subjects. Until it dawns on you, that far-off conversation with Azul, the Culinary Crucible. For some reason, your neck feels warm as if you should not have made that observation; like noticing Floyd’s perfect score is a rude thing to do. “Ah. Yeah, I did. Good job again.”

Floyd laughs; you feel the noise through the connection of fork and skin, finally lowering it at the sensation. “Shrimpy did pretty good too. Ya gonna cook me something sometime? Not fair that Azul is the only one who got to taste your cookin’.”

You lower your voice to a suspicious whisper as a thought dawns on you. “... Hey, why does Azul need me working there if you cook so good?”

Unlike Azul, you had not been mystified by food at the Culinary Crucible. During the entire ordeal of being transported to a tropical beach via book, Floyd had cooked at the abandoned cottage. You had been amazed by his skills, gorging yourself on the delicious spread.

His eyes shift up to the left, avoiding your slight interrogation. Almost hiding something. “Eeeh, I don’t know. Azul’s always complainin’ even though he can barely cook. His food is super boring; Shrimpy’s probably tastes better.”

“Talk to Azul about it. I’m sure it can be – Grim, paws off my food.” You brandish your makeshift fork-slash-claymore at your little beast.

“Ah, but I want Shrimpy to cook for me because they wanna.”

“Heh, yeah,” you trail off, unsure of how to respond to that. Mostly failing to come up with a response because you cannot see a possibility of that ever happening. “Like I said, um, Azul.” And that is all you really can articulate because, that’s a cool thought but I can’t see myself cooking for him.

Besides; to you, love is an ingredient stored in the kitchen. And, to you, love is about finding people to be in the kitchen with. Your philosophies do not synchronize with your feelings with Floyd Leech.

“Mmm,” Floyd hums, dissatisfied with your answer. He watches you place your fork down; glances at Baby Seal who has been watching this go down (Ace and Deuce still in the cafeteria line). “Guess I’ll just have to wait to taste Shrimpy’s cookin’ on Sunday, hehe. Caaan’t wait!”

“What’s on Sunday? –”

“I suppose you will. Bye for now, Floyd,” you interrupt Grim.

“See ya, Shrimpy.” He leaves you with a peace-sign.

Slowly, the feeling of being slobbered on like a squeak-toy in a dog’s mouth ebbs. The indent of teeth loosen with each step that Floyd takes, rejoining Jade and Azul outside the cafeteria entrance. When Ace asks what that is all about, you threaten him too with your plastic fork. Sometimes, a girl has business of her own to take care of, your fork emphasizes to the trio. Thus, you manage to keep it secret despite hiccups.

Eventually, Floyd’s statement does come to fruition. Because like you said, a week has passed. On Sunday, he gets to taste your cooking because: “I didn’t know you two were the other judges.”

“Aw, not excited to see us,” Floyd asks with a fake frown. He is leaning over your shoulder, hands in his pockets, and looking far too much like a vulture.

“Did you honestly expect someone else,” Jade asks, following you inside.

Despite the fact they were assigned to guide you in, you take up the front and walk with purpose into the stomach. Mostro Lounge has finally closed and you trudge into it, yawning. Sections of blue lighting twist up the ceiling like a tunneling rib-cage. When blue gleams on Jade’s smile, more importantly on his teeth, you think of viscera.

Rolling your shoulder, you reply, “Guess I didn’t put much thought into it.”

“At least, you came prepared with some strategy. I imagine that must have taken up priority in your mind.”

“Not at all.” The toothpick clenched in your teeth wobbles with your words. Floyd giggles happily; his contagious high-pitched giggle has you fighting back a smile. You manage to knock the mirth away when yours and Azul’s eyes collide. “You two will just have to see if I’m as good as he claims. Isn’t that right, Azul?”

“Seriously, Prefect, did you come here with zero preparation?”

“I was busy with schoolwork. Piss off.”

Azul lets out a tired sigh. You shuffle in front of him, body like the condiments in a sandwich between six-foot-one eel-mer-shaped bread. “So, I’m assuming this is going to be more or less like the Culinary Crucible. I’ll cook, you three will judge. Sounds simple enough.”

“Yes, that is the gist of it. Floyd, if you will.”

“Here ya go, Shrimpy.”

In front of you is Floyd’s hat turned upside down like a beached turtle. Inside lie about twenty or so folded slips of paper. The eel-mer uses the proximity to touch his bicep to yours. So moving that hand off the point of contact, you reach in. “Cioppino with mussels,” you read from the paper. “That’s relatively an easy meal … Give me another slip of paper.”

“But, why?” Azul questions.

“But I’m not going to cook unless I have a challenge,” you say. Over your shoulders, Floyd grins wide at your words almost as if in agreement.

“Now,” Jade pushes your hand back into the hat before you can unfold the second slip of paper. “While I may understand your reasoning, it is quite late. We delegated to write down meals that could be cooked in under an hour. All of them are easy.”

“C’mon, let Shrimpy pick another, Jade.”

“Floyd.”

“Fiiine.”

“Fiiine,” you whine in a matching tone, looking at the Nunito font spelling out the meal you have to make. You frown when realizing you and Floyd accidentally matched up. Before anything can be said, you direct a question at Azul, “Can I listen to music? They didn’t let me at the Culinary Crucible.”

“Of course. However you wish to go about artistic expression, don’t let me stop that.”

“Thanks.”

From the closed door, the sound of guitar that more closely resembles the sound of a chainsaw starts up, horridly grating. Like a surgeon orchestrating with his tools of carnage. Commencing this operatic butchery of a feast. Body and blood.

Loitering, you start to thumb an unheard beat on the bakery box in hand. In your mouth, a toothpick swings up and down and tumbles left to right like a gymnast. Students file past you to enter the classroom you are waiting by and … ugh, why is this taking so long!

Quickly and a bit peeved, you check your phone. You and him agreed upon this time before Defense Magic class could start. The bell should ring in about five minutes and he should have been here five minutes ago.

Glancing into the open doorway where a long fighting platform and multiple seats await, you consider just leaving it on his desk. If you do that then you can still make it to your next class … you are just about to jump in to fluidly join the swimming crowd walking in the class when —

“SHRIMPY!!!”

The toothpick in your mouth breaks into splinters, guillotined by your teeth.

Cradling fallen wooden bits in your hand, you look up at Floyd with an expression that is beyond peeved. It does little to deter him. Hands in his pockets and brother shoulder to shoulder with him, Floyd stalks over to you energetically, grinning wide.

“Hello Prefect.”

“You switchin’ to a second year class, little shrimp? Defense Magic gets a bit rowdy, hehe.”

“Hi Jade. Hi Floyd. No, I’m waiting for someone right now.”

“Aw, Shrimpy, ya miss me that much?”

“If you were so eager to see us before your first day at the Lounge, you only need to say so, Prefect.”

Oh, backtracking, you got the job. Another perfect score of thirty. You start later this afternoon … that is all normal and expected.

There is this odd thing that has been bugging you though. After you had presented the dishes, toweling down your hands and asking for a smoke break, you came back to see: Jade ate the entire meal, scraping the plate clean like a suctioning tube; Azul ate but left a reasonable amount of leftovers that were both alternatively acceptable to trash or save; Floyd took a few careful nibbles then left the rest untouched. Guess I’ll just have to wait to taste Shrimpy’s cookin’ on Sunday, hehe. Caaan’t wait! Such untrue words. Why even say something like that if he would just pick at it like a finicky child?

It seems Floyd never has a long-lasting objective.

Holding the bakery box with one hand, you reach in your pocket to discard your broken toothpick and grab a new one. As you do, Floyd folds cursory arms over your head, leaning over you like a bar-table to talk to his brother.

“Caaan’t believe it; Shrimpy’s big day in the ocean blue starts today.”

“Yes, I’m sure it will be quite interesting.”

“All that delicious food … I should show her how to make takoyaki.”

“Now, Floyd, she must follow along with the orders placed.”

“Aw, boooring.”

“Who's gonna be training me?”

“I believe Azul designated the job to Floyd.”

“Aha ha, hear that Shrimpy? We get to hang out all night tonight~” Floyd leans in a way that you can see his wide, visceral grin.

A human has a set of thirty-two made of enamel and root cementum. Omnivorous with molars in the back for plants along with incisors and canines in the front for meat. Floyd has a set of forty-two teeth. Quite unlike humans, his teeth are made of cartilage – a human body could never adapt to safely chew with cartilage-made teeth. Floyd’s teeth shine in a glass-esque glow.

And: “you got something in your teeth” you say to him, pointing to your own mouth. Because there is a medium-sized piece of something wedged between his glimmering teeth.

“Huh?”

You watch him momentarily jam a fingernail in his mouth, trying to find whatever you are pointing out. And completely missing the mark too. He is so annoying. It is on the bottom row of teeth, not the top, you seethe.

“Ugh, let me.”

Downward, the bakery box finds the floor. Instead of just one, you shake two bamboo toothpicks out of your pack. One flips easily into your mouth and the other pirouettes between middle and index. By the lapel of his incorrectly put on jacket, you pull Floyd down to your height. “It’s not even in your top row of teeth,” you scold. “Open.”

Your command is ignored. It surprisingly seems like Floyd will never open his mouth again. Tight-lipped and staring, his mismatched eyes look at you like you have suddenly grown an extra head. Then, a slow mounting blush grows on his face that peaks at crimson. Hell, the whites of his eyes almost glow when backdropped by the flush on his face.

Did the temperature spike or something? You are at a comfortable temperature. It is certainly odd – your train of thought ends when Jade checks behind you, “My, how scandalous. And right in the middle of the hallway too. I never thought of you as such an audacious person, (Name).”

“Huh?” You raise an unamused eyebrow at Jade. Your own toothpick in mouth tilts down in ire. “You know what, forget it. Look stupid the rest of the day.”

Serves you right for trying to help … stupid twins.

“Wh – Wait! I’ll open my mouth!” Floyd’s tongue lolls out.

Ah, it seems the temperature has spiked. This is why you try not to interact with Octavinelle and all their consuming ways. And because! “Your fucking teeth! Dude, I just need to see your teeth!” Jade’s laughter grows in volume.

Eventually, a bit pissy that this has become a whole ordeal, you manage to get the piece out of Floyd’s teeth. Both of you share a bit of warmth on your faces.

The toothpick is flicked into the trash inside the Defense Magic classroom. You want to forget all about this interaction already.

“Thanks Shrimpy. You’re a lifesaver!” Floyd gives a big, boyish grin, all forty-two of his teeth cleaned. Pink is still a sandstorm dusting on his cheeks.

You look away from Floyd with a twitch in your cheek. Finally – “Ruggie!” The hyena’s ears twitch on the top of his head. You pick up the bakery box of donuts from the ground and meet him halfway. “You’re late,” but you scold Ruggie with a smile rather than a frown.

“Sorry, Leona had me running an impromptu errand. Work never ends.”

“Oh, I know what you mean.”

And you and Ruggie share a bone-deep sigh, despite smiling, that only Leona’s and Crowley’s errand-runner could possibly sympathize with on equal footing.

“Well, payment as arranged,” you say, going to hand Ruggie his payment when – “Jade!”

“Oya, was this the person you were waiting for, Prefect?”

“Yes, now give that back.”

“You said this was payment? What an unusual transaction. I wonder what it could be for.” He opens up the bakery box. Six different types of donuts stare back at him.

You stare right alongside them. You would rather not have him or his brother knowing that you get study guides from Ruggie. In exchange for them, you bake Ruggie donuts and other sweets. Information like that would be valuable to Azul. You remember Deuce, Grim, and Ace taking study guides from Azul in November; you are smart enough to make deals with less odious individuals.

You can even imagine what Jade would say upon learning you require help in your classes, “My brother and I would be happy to tutor you, Prefect.” Why Jade includes his brother when trying to interact with you, you will never know. You doubt Floyd could sit still for one math equation.

“Keep wondering,” then, you retrieve the bakery box from Jade with a huffing puff.

Yet before you can even give Ruggie his payment, an arm hooks around your neck in a chokehold. Gasping startled, you look up to see Floyd’s fluorescent smile hanging above you like the moon on a riverbank. Yet when he speaks, he does not look at you.

“See ya tonight, Shrimpy?”

“Um … yeah.”

“‘Kay Shrimpy! Hehehe!”

As you walk off, you rub your neck wondering what that was all about.

You are prepared like someone might put the finishing touches on a cake. Azul gives you your Octavinelle hat and apron while Jade explains how they go about business. A slip of paper from Jade tells you the connection between abbreviations and meals.

“But if you have any questions on what a certain abbreviation stands for, Floyd will assist you.” You then asked why you would need help; they all personally tasted how capable you were at making meals. Abbreviations are relatively easy to understand too. Jade simply laughed before opening two swinging doors to the kitchen. A tongue lolls out and on the beastly carpet, Floyd stands, dressed up in cooking attire rather than waiter attire.

“Have fun you two,” are the words Jade leaves you with an hour or so ago, standing in the whale’s guts. Fun? You think Floyd is having the most fun out of the two of you because –

Blood hits the floor and soaks into the linoleum. Little stardust sprinkles of red between both of your awestruck bodies. Each droplet holds such a weight that you are almost surprised that the red splatter does not start burning holes through the floor like stomach acid.

Floyd is bent over like he has chronic stomach pain. Teal hair covers his face as he shudders. Backtracking, he was looking at you a minute ago. Pestering you, he had tried to change what you were making. You were not dealing with that. (A knife suddenly falls in the path of Floyd’s hand.

“Please keep your filthy hand to your side of the kitchen.”

“That just makes me wanna touch your side more, Shrimpy.”

“Then, you must also not be fond of your fingers. Unexpected but nothing I cannot work with. A pinch of seasoning and I’m sure even you will be easy to swallow.”

“I have something else you could – FUCK!”)

Now, Floyd is bleeding all over the floor. The metallic stench has you squirming.

Oh, I am getting fired. Or, squeezed. Or, Ace and Deuce are going to find my drowned dead body. The dumpster fire of thought explodes like an atomic bomb when Floyd’s head lifts up. The grin on his face splits from ear to ear. All forty-two teeth catching the light a certain way. Forget all that! I’m going to be eaten alive!! The thought runs a strangely pleasant shiver up your spine.

Is money worth this stress? Because you are dealing with parts of yourself that you do not want to address.

It is the day after and Floyd is staring enraptured at his palm.

Perhaps English language cannot house the absolute devotion that Floyd stares at his palm with; however, Jade believes enraptured is one-fourth close enough given language’s constrictions. His twin brother looks at the innards of his hand with the same expression when he saw fireworks for the first time or experienced the sight of red for the first time. Looking at it like it is the first time he has seen his palm. It is because something new lies on his palm. A new difference between Floyd and himself as identical twins.

Scheming, Jade decides he wants to poke at that wound. So, tearing paper off his notepad, he leaves the pending order with one of the kitchen staff and does not pick up the tray designated for him. Pocketing work, Jade slithers over to the bar.

With his non-dominant right hand, Floyd starts to trace the innard of his palm. That look of enrapturement is so strong now. As if he is only happy when observing that plane of skin. It even changes his eyes, speckles of their natural bioluminescence floating in them. Enraptured so deeply like black-hole is sucking him in.

“Did you happen to forget you have five fingers?” That does not work. Still leaning on the countertop, Floyd glides his hand contently on his palm. “Happen to be missing home?”

That knocks Floyd out of his stupor. “Huh?” On the other side of the countertop, Jade stands at the most empty bar, because customers seem to recognize they aren’t going to get a drink from such a distracted Floyd. Jade smiles politely.

“You are staring at your hand as if you’re trying to will your fins back.”

Jade suspects there is more to it. And he is proven correct when Floyd tights his dominant hand into a fist. The blood-lamp in his eyes dim just a bit, growing timid … no, his brother is acting shy right now? Mumbled into Floyd’s shoulder when he turns away: “I’s nothin’.”

Oh, this is going to be fun. Teeth on display, Jade interrogates, “With that look, I wholeheartedly doubt such a statement. And you are retreating like a pitiful hermit crab right now.”

“Fuck off.”

“(Name) happens to have the day off. I happen to wonder if that has any correlation, with this sudden hand-staring. Did your hands happen to touch, going for the same ingredient?”

“I happen to wonder how many punches it’ll take till ya have a black eye.”

“Fufufufu. To think that all your efforts to get her attention and employed here; and she ends up cutting you on her first day.”

Floyd’s mood lightens. A lovey-dovey sigh escapes him. “I know. Ain’t she perfect~”

You found out only two weeks into your employment that you were getting paid more than ninety percent of the staff.

(One of your fellow line-cooks spit out of his drink when he heard you mumble under your breath during lunch rush, “twenty-eight dollars per hour, twenty-eight dollars per hour, twenty-eight –” like a momentary mantra to convince yourself to not stress too much. Apparently you are getting paid forteen more dollars than the average kitchen staff. You do not get to speculate with him why. Azul comes rushing in, scolding anyone who does not have a hundred and one percent of their attention on their work station.

When you ask Floyd about it, he becomes uncharacteristically less fidgety than normal. How juxtaposing. People that are put-off usually squirm but Floyd goes comatose-like when bothered.) You have decided to drop it since then; why look a gifted horse in the mouth?

The money is such a darling incentive to come into work that you have yet to miss a single shift. At least, it is never boring. Not that you think Floyd would allow you to wilt in the industrial-ness of cooking in a restaurant instead of tender, domestic cooking. You two manage to have this weird mixture of fun and prodding.

And when a customer puts in an order for lobsters, you are not going to waste the opportunity.

“I’ll think I’ll name him Floyd 2,” you say, holding up the crustacean. Twitching antennas wave at you when his rubber-band claws cannot. Floyd glances at you out of the corner of his eye, golden iris like a supernova star. Just as he goes to talk, you drop Floyd 2 into the pot of boiling water. “Whoops.”

“Shrimpyyy.”

“My hand slipped,” you smile.

“Why’s Shrimpy so callous all the time? Ya got a hard shell just like this lobster. Look.” A blackish-orange, uncooked lobster is shoved in your face as you laugh.

“What do you even mean?”

“You’re a real serious type like Azul. But you were all giggles when you and Sea Otter were riding on my back over Winter Break. You danced really funny at the banquet.”

“I dance funny?”

“Yeah, like this,” Floyd starts to shimmy the lobster back and forth. You take it from him with a smile, dropping it into your pot. All four lobsters boiling, you switch your attention to cutting up the appetizer salads by your station. “Ya doing anything after work, Shrimpy?”

“Just going to Ruggie’s Spelldrive practice tonight.”

“You should come to one of my practices, Shrimpy. Way cooler than Spelldrive.”

Your knife falls on the midpoint of five or so slices of washed lettuce. Glancing up, you see as Floyd washes the rest of the vegetables, he is oddly still. His bandaged left hand clenches around the handle. Usually, he taps a rhythm to the side of the sieve.

That is really odd because his voice is so light and carefree. But you can dissect his body language.

“No way, Spelldrive is so cool. You used magic to control the disc but it’s exactly like football.” Your world already had basketball, but Spelldrive is an entirely new thing.

“What’s football?”

“Ah, nevermind,” but Floyd presses for more answers with a smile. “It’s the same as the rules of Spelldrive. Instead of using brooms, you run. And, the control that the players have on their magic plus the second and third years who ride brooms are super impressive. The level of mastery is … on another level!”

Floyd’s face twists at that. “It’s just ridin’ a broom. Ain’t so hard.”

“I thought you, your brother, and Azul were bad at riding brooms. Y’know, sea legs and all that.”

“I’m waaay better than those two.”

“Whatever you say,” you dismiss the conversation just as you slide the cut lettuce into two bowls. You want to drop the conversation and work on the next entree. Floyd does not share that sentiment.

Shaking water out of the sieve, he whines, “Spelldrive’s so boooring. It just a bunch of guys throwin’ around a disk.”

“And basketball is just a bunch of guys passing around a ball.”

“C’mon Shrimpyyy.”

“I guess I could make the time to attend one practice.” Floyd lights up at that. Evangelical light shines in his mouth. Something boils over in you like the stove’s temperature has been turned up.

You are being eaten alive. It is not so bad.

However, backtracking, it starts with kisses.

Whoever is kissing you – crowding above you like a nebulous night sky and draping each warm star finger on the cold surface of your face, mandible to cheekbone – has never kissed anyone before. And it is surprisingly endearing to you. Having to guide the night to properly understand kissing is not biting. Tentatively having to pinch or pull hair when a tongue ventures too far down your throat or a pair of needle teeth bite too hard on your lips. This is how it starts.

Happiness is like the calcium in your bones. You are awfully pleased to be kissing this pair of midnight lips. Speed of kissing escalates and deescalates in intervals; sometimes, the two of you press into each other like you are afraid one of you will leave come morning before falling into slow pecks like time has suddenly become infinite.

In this anonymous kissing, you lie happy on some hard, uncomfortable surface. But with how elevated you feel, it feels like a cloud is cradling your body. Euphoria is a well-versed painkiller.

Peppermint burns your nostrils as the face above you gasps. Ah, despite how you had been chiding off teeth on your lips, you are the one that actually breaks skin. Three pupils of blood fall on your closed lips. Your sheepish tongue pokes out and licks red rain away. Blood falls into the sizzling grill of your mouth and you gasp in response.

Taste is categorized into five groups. This tastes like a sixth. Suddenly, all other tastes pale in comparison. The revelation makes you shudder, each bone vibrating.

You never want to taste anything else. You will never pick up a cigarette if you get to taste this again.

The taste gradually dims when the face finally pulls away, revealing who you are kissing. “Floyd?” Spherical blood sits, a tiny cherry, on the middle of his bottom lip. He blushes like he is sunburnt by your attentive eyes. Before you can ask why he is kissing you, Floyd leans back, sitting on his haunches.

You two are laid on a table. The table stretches so far out into the distance that it enters a void. Behind Floyd, it shrinks down until it blurs away; when you tilt your head back, it fades due to distance. The range of your eyesight cannot comprehend the length of the surface.

Everything else is swallowed and lost to the chewing void. When you tilt your head left and right, tenebrous ebon greets you like a wall. Your eyes are magnetized to the only light source now that Floyd’s lips are too far away to kiss.

Held in Floyd’s hand is a single fish fork. It incandesces like a lamp, and when you blink, the contour is burnt on your inner eyelids.

Puffy, swollen lips move to speak but Floyd beats you to the punch. Out of his mouth falls an even sweeter palate beyond his blood. Your real name – in his voice, nasally, a bit lightfully high-pitched, a bit annoying and a bit liberating – on his tongue, pronounced and said with a hefty weight.

“(Name).”

“Yeah?” You answer, breathless from kisses and that word.

“Can I taste you?”

You think back to how each of you were feasting on each other in your liplock, a sudden amorous meal.

“Yeah.”

Instead of him leaning down, the fish fork in Floyd’s hand starts to move. Your eyes track it with intrigue. Beyond the valley of your chest, you are caught off guard seeing your button-up undone and open like wings. Into an abyss known as the midline sternotomy, Floyd’s fish fork digs in.

A dog-esque whimper falls from your lips. The toes of your right foot curl behind Floyd when you feel a fork scraping past rib bones. Three prongs pierce convulsing muscle tissue. Lithe fingers twist the utensil. Arousal coats like goosebumps on your flesh as a section of you is taken. Eyelids half mast, you watch Floyd bring the red fork to his lips. A section of still-beating, still-drumming muscle disappears into his mouth.

This is more intense than the kissing, that you wake up on fire.

The fire is metaphorical but the engrossing heat that blankets your entire body is not. In Ramshackle’s bed, you kick awake breathlessly. The pillow you were squeezing gives a wheeze of pain when you hug it to yourself tighter. Propping yourself on your elbows, blinking away a dream, you groan. “Oh fuuuck no.” In your chest, your tell-tale heart pounds.

You fall right back on the embrace of your pillow as it mimics the feel of a lover’s chest. Silk and the fire in your face collide in a burn. As chunks of your dream expand or delete away, you consider the heavy weight of … everything.

Floyd.

Floyd was eating your heart. Your face smolders on your pillow – you refuse to dwell on the implications of that.

You dwell on the implications, almost ruminating. In your quad-'apartment stomach, the rumen and reticulum digests the dream, the omasum allows the dream to filter into your bloodstream, and the abomasum finishes up your dream analysis. You metaphorically puke in your own mouth the entire morning, ruminating.

When the taste becomes too much, you hunt down Jade.

Stalking halls with eyes and nose trained for locating only him. And when you do, you do not busy yourself with the subtlety of a prowl. You launch right in on the attack. Stabbing him with a question even though he has a forkful of something in his mouth, “What’s Floyd’s deal?”

Caught off guard, Jade blinks at you. It is rare for such a blank look to cross his face that you are almost unnerved. Then, he pulls the fork from his mouth, chewing and dabbing his mouth with his napkin. “I’m afraid I don’t quite know what you mean. My brother and Azul are not under contract.”

“Not a real deal – ugh, Jade, you know what I mean.”

Sharpened teeth make a beastly smile. A shiver tiptoes up your spine like a spider.

Turning back to his meal, Jade brushes off your response with, “Vagueness is one step away from misunderstanding. You should clarify for your own sake.”

He lifts up his fork and your eyes fall to the cafeteria table. Right now, you are on a fake bathroom break during astrology. Azul and Floyd have lunch together while Jade has a separate lunch. It is the perfect time to strangle information out of him, and, like a good predator, you should not waste time on prowling or stalking but –

“I don’t understand how you can eat like that and remain that skinny.”

As a cook, you are well-versed in the balancing of meals. To be frank, Jade’s lunch probably has the most optimal nutrition in terms of carbohydrates, protein, and vegetables. However, lunches are standardly medium-sized. In front of him lies a caesar salad stuffed with chicken, BLT sandwich, and an egg salad lettuce wrap. He’s three-fourth done with the caesar salad and sure to dig into the rest.

“Metabolism is a fascinating genetic function.”

“If I can convince Crewel to make a body-swapping potion, how about a quick switch for a day?” You can only imagine how cultured Jade’s tongue is.

“You in my body and I in yours. Floyd would have a field day with that.”

“Oh my god, what does that mean!”

Jade chuckles at your boiling worry. One hundred and one spine-chilling scenarios flash in your head. Backtracking, you vow to never give your autonomy to Jade Leech of all people. It will only end in misfortune for you. Scolding, you seethe, “Whatever you’re thinking, stop it. Your smile’s too creepy.”

“I’m not thinking about anything in particular. I’ll let you ruminate on it however. I’m sure you can think of much more than I can.”

“You’re the worst.”

Jade gives a musical hum and forks the last bit of his salad into his mouth. “You know, I could ask the same question: What’s your deal?” His yellow left eye sharpens, taking in the space where you disrupt the atmosphere. Remembering what that evil star could reel out your throat (truth, awful truths you have not made peace with), you scoot back on the table’s seat.

The mental image is odious. Jade’s hand hovering over your salivating mouth with the other holds your chin skyward; his fist clenches around a fishing line, yanking; he scoops up everything you keep concealed as you cough up blood like a weak geyser. A violent image. Yet, violence absent of any amatory intent. (So unlike your dream with Floyd.)

Putting distance between you two like a panicked crab, you mutter, “What do you mean?”

“You are good friends with Riddle Rosehearts, yes? You should know that he never indulges Floyd’s whims; he would never agree to working in the same Lounge as Floyd either. Yet, the two of you have gotten quite cozy.”

“I never voluntarily approach him. I work there for the cash.”

“Hm, perhaps. However, you do not shy away when he approaches you. Why is that? What is your deal?”

“We’re supposed to be talking about Floyd’s deal.”

“Alright. Then, let us talk about it.”

“Lets!”

“How do you find his disposition? Too wholesome, too loathsome? You two seem to be becoming fast friends … ah, but that is just my humble, little opinion. No need to look so upset.”

“Floyd is … Floyd … he’s viscera.”

“I assure you my brother has other anatomy beyond his stomach.” As Jade says, he unwraps his egg salad lettuce wrap. The smell burns your nose. You get the egg-scented message that such a description could match Jade with his bottomless stomach.

“No, it’s not literal. It’s – Being around him feels like being in the belly of the beast.”

“I’m afraid I don’t understand. Why don't you give me an example?”

“You know what? Okay.” You contemplate for a moment, thumbing through the notecards of your memory. Finally getting it, you snap your fingers. “Okay! Okay. Last week, Tuesday, during my shift. He stood behind me the entire four hours of my shift. Like I mean, stood there. Just breathing down my neck, all pissed off. I thought he was going to take a bite out of me, Jade!”

Ah, Jade remembers that day well. It was the day you had a laundry mishap, procrastinating on the chore to the point where you had no clean slacks. Nothing too interesting – so what you forgot to do laundry, that happens in the life of a busy Prefect! The only thing is:

(“Shrimpy’s wearing leggings! Shrimpy’s – fuck!”

Jade looks up from his paperwork, hovering over Azul’s shoulder. Holed up in the VIP room, he and Azul are going over the month’s numbers of hours delegated to the staff. Measuring punchcard times and figuring where to subtract or add hours for each staff member. Numbers on papers become quite boring when Jade sees the state his brother is in.

“Floyd. Do not knock over the table.” Strife laces Azul’s voice.

Sprawled on the ground, Floyd half-sits and half-kneels on the violet carpet. In his excitement, he had bumped into the table set between the two couches. Pushing himself up, the grin on Floyd’s face is mammoth and energized. “Shrimpy’s wearing leggings!”

So it seems you were, Jade would find out later. Skin-tight leggings; black with flared bottoms. You had walked in with your button-up untucked to hide what Floyd cites is the prettiest ass he has ever seen. That particular article of clothing left little to the imagination – snug so tightly on each tantalizing curve of yours.

“Is that so,” Jade asks, having yet to see you during your shift. Looking at the clock, he notices that you have only been clocked in for about three minutes.

“I think I’ve died and gone to heaven.” Floyd breathes starstruck, hand clutched to his wrinkled shirt.

With that, an evil thought comes into Jade’s head.

“I am sure today will be an equally blissful day for the staff of Mostro Lounge.”

“Huh? What ya mean?”

“I mean, she is not invisible. Obviously, if she is such a sight to behold, the staff will be looking as well.”

Jade puts his own hand up to his heart, polite smile on his lips, and closes his eyes. He reopens them when the VIP room door slams shut – the wind carrying Floyd’s worsening mood and threats against the entire staff. The clock shows you are only four minutes into your four hour shift. The politeness of his smile morphs into something sinisterly serene as if a cunning plan of his has come to fruition. And it has, in just a few small minutes.

Ah, what an unfortunate start to your shift it seems. Fufufu.)

But it was far from unfortunate for Jade, who chuckled every time he opened the kitchen door to see Floyd standing protectively behind you, crowding around you to cover you up while refusing to let you reach for anything on a high shelf. He would bare his teeth at whoever glanced in your direction for mere seconds.

“I doubt he would have bitten you,” Jade placates, not wanting you to misread Floyd’s intent.

Emphasizing each word, you seethe, “He was breathing down my neck. He sounded one breath away from tearing apart my jugular!” Even though Jade seems to be reminiscing, he is obviously looking back through with a damaged pair of glasses – one temple broken off and one lens cracked.

You remember it much better: the wind-chill of a predator’s breath kissing your cervical; the uneven, spontaneous growls that would bloom behind your ear and have you pressing tighter to the stove; the intimate fear pierced into your spine through the morbid surgery of Floyd’s presence. You still wonder what you did to upset him so badly that he felt the need to monitor you for your entire shift.

“Listen,” your face pulls into a frown as you stare down Jade. “Your brother has life sorted into two categories: fun and boring. I’m in a category I don’t want to be in. Just tell me what I need to do to make myself unappetizing to him.”

So I don’t have another dream like that ever again.

“Ah,” Jade puts on a mask like he is going to tell you devastating news. “I’m afraid you’re quite a delicacy to him. Floyd has always been known to hold on tight to his food and eat in painful little bites. How unfortunate for you~”

You hang your head like the strife of Floyd is a guillotine snapping the cervical bones in your neck. To be so consumed by him like this mentally … it’s tearing you up inside.

“If I may pry, why are you so insistent on knowing about my brother? I sincerely hope it is not for ill intents, dear Prefect.” You are starting to catch onto the theme that most of Jade’s smiles are just threatening.

Insistent? Out of the two of you, Floyd is the insistent one, binding himself tight around you. But – you still Jade’s words linger in your mind. Why were you so insistent … You imagine a fake reality where you answer his question with, ‘because I burnt food for the first time in my entire life this morning. Because this morning, I ate overdone scrambled eggs that crunched in my mouth like pretzels. Because I think I’ve unknowingly developed a crush on him and it hit me so hard this morning that Ramshackle would have gone up in smoke if Grim and the ghosts took a minute longer to notice the burning stove.’

Instead, you answer, “Just want my peace of mind back.”

It is a partial truth that Jade does not have to use hooks to create red, wet aqueducts in your throat to get the answer. No need to use magic like Shock the Heart on you; you have already had your heart-attack this morning!

“I sincerely think there is more to it than that.”

“I promise that is it. I want to know Floyd’s deal to get him off my back.”

“See, but you’re acting in such a contradictory way, Prefect. Perhaps I should use something to loosen your tongue. Holding so many barnacles of thoughts in your head must be tiring.” His left eye starts to fluctuate with pulsing gleams.

“OH! Would you look at the time! My bathroom break – it’s uh! I’m gonna be late for class! Bye Jade!!” You race off mouse-esque.

You have not seen Floyd today … which is admittedly very nice.

At least I only had to put up with one fake eel and one real eel today. Two real eels is too many, you think as you pluck a tender cigarette from the package. Despite having a closing shift, you have yet to see Floyd since he invaded your dreams. A beady eye of red is born as you pocket your lighter. Breathing in, you contemplate on this slight blessing.

Apparently, Floyd has been neglecting schoolwork for the past week.

Whenever he was on his laptop, Jade mistakenly thought Floyd was doing his assignments. Turns out for seven nights he had been browsing GOAT for shoes and organizing each one on documents – so his typing mimicked the sound of doing assignments. Caring in a far too sinister way, Jade has locked Floyd in their room with a spell too advanced for it to be broken by one mage.

(“I don’t quite understand why he even would look at shoes; you see, he’s low on cash at the moment. Oh, but I am truly sorry to have to separate you two tonight.” Jade apologizes as if you are upset over the matter. Your deadpan look is far from mournful.

“However, I told him I would let him out when he has at least completed three-fourths. I believe he should be successful as long as he can find the correct playlist.” Jade’s yellow eye gleams at you, almost winking. “Plus, he has proper motivation to finish up sooner.”

“The hell –? I just asked if I could go on my smoke break.”

“Yes, but your constipated expression told me that you had more on your mind. Besides, isn’t this part of Floyd’s ‘deal’? His day to day – I thought I’d graciously keep you updated.”

You flip him off as you walk out the backroom.) Now here you sit, a wall embracing your back.

Usually, you would stand but you think you might mistakenly pour cement in your shoes. Soreness is like molten lead in your bloodstream, weighing you down. You have never felt such agony in your hamstrings and thighs. Thus, you sit on an awful, treacherous thought.

Would Floyd accept any study-guides you get from Ruggie?

There are multiple faucets to why this is a cretinous thought. Wouldn’t Azul have study-guides for the twins; would Floyd swallow his pride to accept anything; did Ruggie even have the topics that Floyd was struggling with – because you have no idea which schoolwork Floyd is skimping out on! Like you said, it is a cretinous thought. For some reason though, you would really like to help Floyd – paying back nothing yet paying back everything too.

Your blooming cloud of smoke asks Why am I acting so selfless for a selfish eel before it evaporates slowly into the oceanic air. There is not really any sensible answer hidden in your soul.

Twisted Wonderland is without a doubt as senseless as your soul. Even now, where you sit smoking is so world-shatteringly different from the typical ‘go out back and smoke’ area. The Octavinelle dorm is enveloped in water. The night sky outside of Mostro Lounge is a unique pocket that isn’t really a pocket at all. In a bubble, on the edge of a cliff that dips down into black, you sit staring at the swimming stars of fish.

Even the classes are an oddity. The two classes you share with Floyd are Art and History of Magic. As far as you have observed, he does well in both of those subjects. So, you doubt he needs a study-guide for either.

Which subject could it be: Astrology, Magic Analysis, Ancient Curses –

A pair of arms wrap serpentine around your shoulders. The anaconda has bound around his unexpecting prey. As a passenger to your train of thoughts, your mind goes blissfully blank. It is an odd sensation: to have been ruminating the entire day over a dream and when confronted with the only corporal part of the dream, you feel at peace..

You breathe out a dragon’s breath and a greeting, “Hi Floyd.”

Mmmmmmph. Is the response spoken into your right shoulder. Reaching behind, you take the hand still pinching your cigarette and stiffly pat the top of Floyd’s head, sharing his tired-tinted sentiment.

You have been eating your heart out, and puking in your mouth all morning. It is an exhausting activity, anguishing yourself over a silly dream, over your dream. “Did you get all your work done?” You stop petting teal hair to return your cigarette between your lips.

Mmmmmph! Anaconda-esque embrace squeezing tighter and tighter, you are really unsure of how you should take that sentiment. It sounds more frustrated than anything – can you share in Floyd’s frustration? Heartbeat lines of waves fall over you two from the overhanging light. No, you have transferred all your strife out of like the emotion is but a colony of bees smoked out of a hive.

When tobacco and paper wrapping has burnt away to about halfway, you receive a clearer insight to Floyd’s misery. “I’m never lookin’ at stars again.”

“Ah, astrology.”

“Mmmguuuh.”

Throat-held vibrations tickle against your shoulder. Floyd depresses his face on the ledge of your collarbone, weight so crushing like he wants to melt into you. Pinioned up in his grip, you just accept the heat of his cheek and the rhythm of his groans.

Pretending to hold an intelligent conversation: “Totally agree with you there. Stupid scorpion.” Ash is tapped off the side of your steel-toed work boots. “I’m a –” then you tell Floyd which animal/symbol aligns up with your Zodiac.

The weight on your shoulder ebbs slowly as Floyd lifts himself up. Then, his bony chin digs into your shoulder causing you to squirm. Arms tighten to stop your earthworm motions and Floyd remarks sleepily, “Mmm, I like shrimps better.”

“You know I can never wrap my head around that nickname. I get why Grim’s a seal because he’s shaped similarly. I don’t get mine. Eels eat shrimp or something?”

“ – Or something.”

“That’s vague.”

“What? Ya want me to eat ya, Shrimpy?”

In cartoons, when a character is punched in the face, stars start to prance and bounce around their head. Floyd’s words are equivalent to a face-impacting wallop. Words crash into you with all the grace of a burning space-shuttle ripping through air. BANG! Bunny-esque stars start to dance around your head, reeling as if all those letters had condensed into a fist.

Lightning of pain branches across your face, and you only get to save yourself by doing one thing. You turn your head to where Floyd’s chin perches and blow smoke into his face. As he falls back, coughing up a storm, you quickly work to get control of the weather inside you.

The turbulent sea of a crush is something calamitous. Lunar shadow-waves tilt across Floyd’s body as you breathe in more smoke. Still coughing, Floyd grumbles, “Why do - ack - ya do that? Smells funky.”

“No asking questions if you don’t answer questions.”

Elbow protecting his nose and eyes seething, he grumbles again, “I told ya, or something.”

“Not good enough. I don’t like roundabout answers.”

“Shrimpyyy.”

“Hey, no calling me that if you can’t tell me why.”

Floyd avoids eye-contact. Not blushing but with all his grimacing teeth on display, he whines, “But it’s embarrassing.”

“Now you have to tell me.”

And he really does because Floyd being embarrassed is alien. You go to deal your own physical blow on Floyd. Aiming a hit that is intercepted, you gloat, “Or this little shrimp is going to take down a big eel.”

When Floyd interlocks your fingers together, you fight back. You fight back through depressing pressure on it; you do not fight the borderline amatory gesture. His hand feels nice in yours. The lighting-shaped lesion in his inner palm that you created feels so warm.

Your mark, your heart sings. Killing that melody, you start to wrestle slightly with Floyd. Horseplaying, your joint hands press against one another, moving back and forth with each playful jab you throw at one another.

“No waaaay, you’re too weak.”

“Says the person about to be beat.”

“I’m fending you off with one hand!”

“Oh yeah?”

“Ack - ak! That’s – uuk – cheating!”

“Why am I called Shrimpy!”

“Because I’mma squeeze you like a Shrimpy!”

“Oh my God,” you laugh. “That’s an even bullshit-er answer than ‘or something’!”

“It’s true! Come here!”

“Ahahaha!”

Sportive laughter blooms from you. Pouncing like a dog seeing its owner after a week long vacation, Floyd pushes you down onto the ground. You squeal breathlessly, “Oh my God!” The back of your head collides with his other protective palm rather than ground. You two are still entwined at the hands – his left and your right. You slap and wrench your left hand this way and that. Floyd follows with his right, trying to grab that too. A foot scuffles up to his lower stomach, pushing. No way are you going to accept a Leech squeeze without a proper fight. You two twist and squirm on the floor, laughing together.

All the while, the caress between your right hand and his left hand remains an independent variable. Unchangeable in this discord of rapid-moving limbs. A caress of interlocked fingers.

“Shrimpy’s gonna – AH HAHA – Shrimpy’s gonna get squeezed!” A mouthful of sharp piscine teeth gleams over your face. You kick at Floyd’s intestines hard enough where his mouth goes circular instead of being crescent.

“Nuh – hahaha – no way!” Floyd makes another grab at your left arm. You twist on your side, crushing his grip on the cement below you, as your heart pounds in your eardrums. You arch in a giggling shriek when Floyd tickles your side, exposing your left arm.

“Aha!” Floyd shouts victorious when he manages a squeeze to your bicep.

Yet, before a shrimp can be squeezed, a door opens. “(Name), your break has been over – oh.”

Jade drinks in the sight of you and his brother like it is a recherché tea blend he has never seen before. A gloved hand covers the uniform pressed over Jade’s chest. Well, this is his first time seeing his twin have a crush so: “Oh, I am so glad to see Floyd getting along with his little shrimp. Warms my brotherly heart.”

Frozen on the ground, you and Floyd show Jade your teeth in matching, disgruntled, and cringing grimaces. All thirty-two square enamels of yours; all forty-two triangle enamels of Floyd’s.

“My, what sour expressions! Fufufu!”

“Why are you making that face!”

“I’m gonna shove this down your throat so you stop saying such stupid shit,” your fork moves with each word you say.

“All I said was –”

“I heard you. Do not repeat it.”

Oh, how you heard Ace, loud and clear. With all the agonizing clarity of a centipede squirming in your ear, his words made an invasion in your body. Not even a full minute ago, Ace had commented, “you and Floyd seem pretty close now.” Those words got you to instantly drop your waving hand, Floyd’s scarred palm still up and waving buh-bye to you, before you rounded on Ace with your fork.

More frequently, between class breaks, Floyd has been visiting you during the time you and your trio have lunch. It is nothing eccentrically different. Floyd has been a persistent leech on you since Jamil Viper’s overblot … but you never reciprocated in conversation until now. Which is probably why Ace brings up the one basketball practice you attended fourteen days ago:

“You know that one time you came to our practice, I think he played the best he has in – FUCK!”

As Ace nurses the four indents on his throat, you fake a moue, “Oh, what was that? You have to speak clearly Ace.”

The sound of your best friend’s hacking and your other best friends’ laughter is a tranquil balm. Enough to where you can stop stressing over the lack of distance now between (Name) (Last Name) and Floyd Leech.

Okay, maybe you never stop thinking about the lack of distance. You are a person who always backtracks into previous thoughts. Reversing time in your mind and puking in your own mouth is perpetual. Therefore, you end up stewing away in your mind, moving a spoon through a bowl of wet rice. Ah … closeness is such a flimsy concept.

You and Floyd seem pretty close now? Perhaps.

‘Cannibalism Cooking’ is a teaching segment on how to erase the distance between self and other? Perhaps.

You think too much? Yes.

Despite your ire, there has been a shift. It is could be in something small like how instead of cooking alive lobsters you name Floyd 1, Floyd 2, Floyd 3, etcetera; you have taken to making stories up for each lobster with Floyd, humanizing them in jest like one does with Barbie dolls, as Floyd’s lobster mourns the death of your lobster who fell into the boiling pot. It could be something large like how you will look at Floyd at times and think of how you want to devour him down to the bones — cooking him on the very stove in Mostro Lounge that you work, your own lai d'ignaure.

Stop thinking, stop thinking, stop thinking, you repeat to yourself in threes. You try to focus on the preparation of rice.

For almost three months you have worked at Mostro Lounge and it has gone on without a hitch. Which is odd because backtracking … you think back on Ruggie and the Intra-School Competition. You have yet to see Floyd in a bad mood, and that cannot last forever.

Eventually, the thing Ruggie foretold comes to pass. Three days later. It is like a weatherman reporting a category four hurricane, an inevitable part of the atmosphere that cannot be avoided. Floyd has fallen into one of his bad moods. And it is worse than any natural disaster.

Double swinging doors open like a maw of roaring teeth. One door happens to smack the tray out of an employee’s hand, just about to exit to the dining hall. That is what causes your eyes to flicker up. Calamity comes in the sound of crackling porcelain and squishing food. Two dishes have clattered to the floor, food wasted. Your eyes flicker up from the discord of pasta, seafood, and vegetables to see the criminal of the crime. Floyd Leech who has the meanest maw that would put any apex predator to shame.

That monstrous look? You guarantee that the credit for crafting it belongs to the sauce splattered on Floyd’s slacks and shoes. Shadows settle over the eel-mer’s face. His hand comes up to hold his own shoulder in an iron grip.

Besides you, a line-cook bemoans, “Well, it was nice knowing him.”

Every employee is aware of the rules: if one of the employees is not following the rules, squeezing is permitted. One of the unspoken rules: do not piss off Floyd Leech. Ruining his shoes is a swift way to get his mood down.

You and your fellow line-cook share a grimace. The employee – you think he might be a Scarabia or Savanaclaw student, too far away to tell the color of his arm-band – is shaking in Floyd’s presence. Watching Floyd’s mouth and eyebrows twitch and the student’s hands move in apologetic measures, you consider something heavy on your tongue.

I really don’t have to go out of my way to help that nameless student, you think just as your mouth opens. Really, though, you only think that because you do not want to confront the reality of who you are helping. “Hey!” The kitchen staff switches their attention from the scene to you. Ugh.

“Which table was that for?”

The Scarabia/Savanaclaw student almost looks ready to fall to his knees in gratitude. Shaking, he replies, “It wa-was for Table N-Nuh-Nine.”

“Well, clean up Table Nine’s mess. Mop’s in the supply closet,” you hope the student is sharp enough to pick up the message: stay there until Floyd is calm. “Then, get out on the floor and offer Table Nine complimentary drinks because of the delay. Move it.”

“Yes, right away!” You think he might be Savanaclaw because you have never seen a person run that fast before.

It is like those stare-down between two predators on nature documentaries. You and Floyd size each other, him pissed that you let his punching bag escape and you pissed that he caused perfectly fine food to spoil. Eye contact locks in place; confrontation like a rumbling storm cloud separates you two. Whoever yields is going to have the face and accept the bite of the other. It comes as a surprise to the kitchen staff when you look right into the sun, challenging that mean eye. Lips pulling back to grimace, it comes to an even greater shock to everyone when Floyd looks away first. When his sheepish eyes glance back up, you move a finger in a ‘come here’ motion.

It would be ideal if he could move without kicking a wad of spaghetti across the vinyl floor … but you take what you can get.

“Hand me that stool,” you say. Refusing to take your eyes off Floyd, you hold your open fingers out behind your back towards your fellow line-cook who has a stool by his oven. When Floyd passes some cooks, they press their stomachs up to the burning stove-plates, dangerously leaning inward to avoid the immediate danger of a grumpy eel. Still, you two look daggers at each other.

The stool finds your hand and you set it down in front of you – right by your own designated stove .

“Sit,” you instruct and he wordlessly obeys.

Even while listening, he is glaring at you. A sculptor named Animosity has molded his features; he looks at you like he wants your head to fly off, probably thinking you are going to scold him like Azul and Jade do. Instead, you turn on a third burner (bottom right) and look around for a frying pan.

You were warned by Jade and Azul around the first week of your employment, Azul’s words far-off yet intimately close too: We tell all long-lasting staff but I ask that you heed this more than the others, Prefect. It is better to leave Floyd alone when he is in a bad mood.

Floyd is silent as he watches. His lilac vest and white button-up is wrinkled with his slouched posture. Tie still undone. No hat this time around. Sitting and slouching, he still comes up to about your elbow. On the stool’s footrest, he hooks his shoes on them, just glaring and glaring at you.

No matter, you think, retrieving slices of bread. I can deal with a childish glare. You start to lather up the slices with garlic Parmesan butter as the pan heats up gradually. But – you have to go to the refrigerator to retrieve two ingredients you do not have on hand.

Just as you go to ask your fellow line-cook to fetch those ingredients that you needed, a hand grabs your slacks. Mild surprise seasons your face as you look down. Burying itself into your black slacks is Floyd’s left hand.

“Why aren’t ya yellin’ at me?”

“Would you like me to?”

Floyd shows you all forty-two of his teeth in a disgusted grimace. Like the mere notion of you yelling at him leaves a bad taste in his mouth.

“Don’t ask for it then,” you scold lightheartedly before finally asking yet another favor of your co-worker. Floyd remains silent but keeps his hand attached to you.

You are baking something quick because you need Floyd’s spirits lifted before that student comes back with the mop. Heat kisses on the plain of your forearm skin as you put the bread slices on the pan. Dial up to eight, a perfect temperature for this little meal. When you get the other ingredients you need, you quickly assemble Floyd’s sandwich.

While you cook each side for four minutes, Floyd bounces his left leg in dismay. His eyes trace over your countertop surface where all your preparation lies but you make sure to keep his eyes away from the stove. His hand is content on your pant leg.

“Here,” you say, holding a sea-turtle green plate out to Floyd. You set it down on the countertop. He eyes it with disinterest yet stops slouching. Quickly turning off the third burner, you move the frying pan to the top right to cool off.

“Grilled cheese?”

“Oh, please, I would never make something so boring.”

Foyd’s eyes glow a bit when he is intrigued. Right now, his eyes are pricked with little firefly holes of light because of your words. That sentence motivates Floyd to pick it up.

Which you only really consider a success when he looks at you wide-eyed, chewing on his first bite. “Tis so goe.”

“Don’t talk with your mouth full. I can’t understand a word.”

“This is so good.”

Oh.

Why does your chest hurt right now?

“Damn Shrimpy, this is really something!” Floyd praises as he takes another bite, uncaring of the heat.

Oh your bittersweet organ pounds. Maybe – just maybe – because it is Floyd, that praise settles on you a little differently than previous praise. Not that you are unappreciative of those that eat your food. As Grim really thinks anything you make tastes great, as Ace or Deuce did not come from a lineage of highly sophisticated and picky taste-buds, Floyd’s praise is different. Floyd is not as easy to please as he seems. The glaring fact that your food has brought a smile to his face causes your heart to pound in an alternative rhythm that you have never felt before.

Before you can start thinking about that more, you explain what makes the grilled cheese so different: “It’s a combination of grilled cheese, pizza, and garlic bread. The pepperoni and garlic butter add a punch, while it really just looks like a normal grilled cheese. Figured you’d like it.”

He really does like it. It is evident as he takes a gigantic bite, listening to you explain your mixture of three types of bread-based foods combined into one. Stringy cheese connects from his lips to his food. It is a little distracting how fluidly he gathers up the flexible intestines of your grilled pepperoni sandwich. His tongue and teeth are inhuman after all.

Hell, should you turn down one of the burners? Why are you feeling so hot? You watch a slice of pepperoni disappear into Floyd’s chipmunk cheeks before he says:

“Shrimpy’s a real good cook.”

“Of course, it was why I was hired here. But … Thank you. That’s very nice to hear from you.”

“And ya made it especially for little me.”

“Hm?”

“Shrimpy cooked just for me.”

“Uuk –” Caught just like that. You were hoping he would somehow overlook it, either because of his bad mood or his admiration towards the food. Before you can open your mouth to embarrass yourself with pointless retorts, another calamity steals your attention.

You look towards the noise by the double doors, and before you lies the best sight you have ever seen at Night Raven College. Azul. Flat on his ass, having slipped because of where that student mopped. The octo-mer’s glasses are tilted and blue paints his cheeks. “HAHAHAHA!” You quickly slap a hand over your mouth so you do not join Floyd’s laughter. Though, your shoulders shake quite a bit.

It is also the best sight in Night Raven College because it allows you to procrastinate on the philosophy of how love, to you, is finding people to be in the kitchen with.

But, mostly, it is the best because it is Azul having slipped on his ass. “Hehehe.”

Eggs in a carton. That is what they look like. Eyes in a mask of skin. A twin set of eggs, turned sideways and unblemished. Staring up at you, those eggs remain open and bulge from the concave carton made of skin. One yolk is yellow and the other is a plain olive-rust.

There is a third part to your philosophies – the idea of Heaven that I see is a slice of you staring up at me. If love is an ingredient then the body full of love is a banquet hall.

A dish acts as his pillow. His locks are combed back with gravity, teal and black angel hair seasoning the meal. What you have on your plate is Floyd’s upside-down head which unblinkingly stares at you. He looks coherent. You are not sure if that makes it better or worse … because it means he can hear (along with you) the words Azul is saying:

“Unadon is just one of the many delicacies made from eel. The average chef knows about nine ways to prepare eel into different meals – braised or stewed or fried or grilled. Today, the Culinary Crucible asks that you prepare this catch with your heart as the writer of the recipe.”

And what awful words they are.

Timid, you look up at Azul while he walks the length of the room. He is dressed in his Culinary Crucible uniform; hair tucked behind his ear, cotton table cloth on his hip, sleeves of the double-breasted jacket rolled up to his elbows. He is reading off a clipboard. His glasses steal in the limited light, glowing like a kitchen knife, each motion of those lenses keen as a stab. Each step of his is perfumed with the scent of viscera.

It only makes sense because you are in the belly of the beast.

“Cooking eels is particularly challenging. Unlike other finfish, the skin needs to be removed as soon as the eel is dead due to the slippery consistency. On average, a chef invests a number of years into mastering and perfecting the craft of making a mouth-watering meal.”

Reddish-mauve muscle layers drape across the wall like curtains. Hardly noticeable but the walls shudder with digestion. Incurvate muscle layers are connected together by towering bone pillars. In the thinner layers, between this fusion of stomach and rib-cage, reddish-mauve turns a reddish-orange with light.

Food acts as the flooring. A runny egg yolk about the size of pillow nestles into a crimson tomato that is equal to the size of a beanbag chair. Juicy ribs decorate the floor like carpeting. Baguettes underfoot crunchy softly with each step Azul takes. You look down at what is holding yourself and your chair up.

Underneath your feet is a cucumber. Kaleidoscope-esque seeds are arranged in the shape of a sun. Foamy white-green has a moist caress on you, and, when you test it with your toes, white plasma froths up with the pressure.

“Harriet Van Horne was an American newspaper colonist with her career starting in 1940’s. In 1956, she wrote an article titled ‘Not for Jiffy Cooks’ and, in it, she wrote the following words: Cooking is like love. It should be entered into with abandon or not at all. Chefs. (Name). The Culinary Crucible asks that you enter with this love. Or never cook again. Please begin.”

Begin?

There is such a momentous weight before starting. Not limited to cooking, there is always a kind of second breath curled up in the first breath before one starts a new task. Breathing with more effort to steady yourself in your resolve.

The breath you take suctions in a perfume, aligned with the floral notes of sweetness found in sugar-peppered churros, sourness found in slobbering grapefruit, saltiness found in prickling flakes on fries, bitterness found in melting dark chocolate, and savoriness found in – you don’t know yet.

Cooking is like love, you reflect amorously. You maneuver with a careful approach, gently moving the plate closer to you. Keeping him upside down, you take the hook of his mandible between your thumb and index. Dentist-like, you open his mouth. Paralyzed with an active consciousness, Floyd’s tongue hangs in his mouth like a stillborn, pink mole rat.

It stretches. Stretching like taffy with cheesy elasticity, you tug it between your dull square enamels. Pulling inch by inch, you hold Floyd’s tongue with tongs made of teeth. When it disconnects from his buccal cavity with a wet, ripping sound – spuuuul-ck! – evangelical light burns from your mouth to your retinas.

My – My bedroom. I’m in my bedroom. Gently, your teeth move off the object you were biting down in a violent grip. Salvia soaken into your pillowcase, you let out a quiet groan. You fall back down on the pillow, finding a dry patch to rest your cheek on, having just woken up.

Not good … Not fucking good at all.

That stupid eel; will you ever get a goodnight sleep again because of him … him and stupid sweet laughter, sour eyes, salty lips, bitter touch, and savory kiss. Kiss? Kiss! You blink and reel yourself from the image your brain was starting to paint.

“No way,” you breathe flustered. “I don’t want to kiss Floyd.” You hold that thought on your tongue like a cough drop. The flavor seeps in and – “Fuck, I want to kiss Floyd.”

Grim, who sleeps belly-up, gives a little kick next to the cradle your left thigh has on him. Quieting down, you think of a conversation you and Floyd had about a month ago. You still need to answer that question – “You know I can never wrap my head around that nickname. I get why Grim’s a seal because he’s shaped similarly. I don’t get mine. Eels eat shrimp or something?” / “ – Or something.” / “That’s vague.” / “What? Ya want me to eat ya, Shrimpy?”

With determination, you reach over your pillow to your bedside table. Hand locked on the phone, your first sight of the morning is a tiny Grim blooming alive on the screen. You coo at the picture of Grim sleeping, tail tucked closed to his body and eyes drawn shut. Cutie, you think, sliding up the screen.

Now back to being a soldier on a mission, you click on Safari and type away. Eels and shrimps. You click search. Not wanting a long hunt, you hit the first website. MORAY EEL and CLEANER SHRIMP writes itself out on a blue webpage. Relief fills you to find the article is only two paragraphs worth of reading.

Okay, Floyd. Time to see what is so embarrassing about a tiny nickname. There is no comprehensible way that his embarrassment could possibly tip your own embarrassment off the scales. Two dreams intimately cannibalistic is much harder to admit than the reason for a silly nickname.

The two paragraphs read:

“There are approximately 200 species of Moray Eel, most of which are exclusively marine although a small number inhabit brackish water and fresh water. Its eyes are small and vision limited, so the eel relies on a sophisticated sense of smell to detect prey, which consists primarily of cephalopods and crustacea. They possess one long dorsal fin that extends from the neck to the anal fin, allowing smooth propulsion through the water. Snake-like in appearance, with wide mouths full of misshapen teeth, the Moray Eel looks ferocious but is in fact a shy, mostly solitary creature living most of its life in burrows and caves.”

Shy? You scoff at the very idea of it. Continuing on, you read the second paragraph.

“For some species, the only regular companions are cleaner shrimp, which live in a symbiotic relationship with the eel. The shrimp congregate in teams called a ‘cleaning station’ and move across the whole body of the eel – including inside the mouth – removing parasites and dead skin, which is their food. This cleaning ensures good health for the eel, so both species benefit.”

Your hands clap over your face as if the pressure can push down the geysering flush that is overriding your skin and hide away all these emotions.

“(Name), could you retrieve something from the walk-in freezer for me?”

It has been a torturous week. Being co-workers with someone you have developed a crush on; you imagine creating a big X with your arms, you do not recommend it. It is such a delicate tight-rope walk across a boiling pot of scalding water.

Even while working without him as a constant leech, he remains there.

On your body and inside your body. Inside your body, it is how he infects your thoughts. On your body though is a bracelet made of teeth (beastman, merman, fae, and human). Floyd made it for in Art; even took the red string and tied it himself around your wrist. (“I don’t have any stuff for an earring so I hadda improvise. I think humans wear shark necklaces sometimes; bracelets are like necklaces for the wrists!”) There might just casually be a tooth from each of the seven dorms on your wrist. You are currently stirring scallops around in an oiled skillet, watching a golden crust form on them and admiring your recently made jewelry.

Floyd’s very odd, you think as you look up from your station. To see who needs you to retrieve something from the walk-in freezer. A pair of heterochromic eyes size you up. “What do you need me to get,” you ask. “I can’t really leave these to burn.”

“It will only be a matter of seconds. Turn the temperature down a bit.”

Lawfully, you decide not to argue against it. Jade is just one ring lower from being your boss. The blue flame lowers slowly. You walk away from the oven, keeping your apron on, and follow after Jade.

“Thank you. I cannot quite carry it all myself.”

“No problem. What are we grabbing?”

“A shipment of veal and fresh beef. Two boxes each.”

You nod your agreement to help. When you two come up upon the steel door, Jade takes the handle in his gloved hand and pulls towards himself to remove it from the first locking mechanism. Cold rushes towards you with a bear-hug-esque strength. You give one hard shiver before falling still. Jade almost seems to smile in the face of frosty air, lips quirked up.

“By the way, have you seen Floyd today? He’s always around on the weekends but I haven’t seen him enter the kitchen yet.”

“Still interested in his day to day?”

“You know what, forget I said anything,” you say, stepping in front of Jade. Like a deflating flower, your toothpick lowers to the ground in disappointment. “I’m sure I’ll see him later.”

“Who knows it might be earlier than expected.”

“Huh?”

Then, Jade gives you a shove hard enough to send you sprawled on the floor inside the walk-in freezer. You almost end up puncturing a hole in your cheek with your toothpick. That bastard!

The thing about freezers is a majority of them have plastic sheeting between the steel door and the inside to keep the temperature below zero. Long, seven inches wide stripes of plastic hang like party streamers from the entrance. Coated in ice, it is extremely difficult to see through, whether in or out.

Which is why you do not notice until you are inside the freezer that Floyd is there too. He looks at you down on your hands and knees, confusion a mere flicker until a flame of rage consumes it. Standing up, Floyd rushes past you. At the hanging plastic and entrance, he screams.

“Jade – you fucking bas – !”

“The human body takes four to six hours to succumb to hypothermia in zero degree weather. So, take however long you need.” And though the difference is not too noticeable, the room grows a bit dimmer. The very noticeable part is the sound of the lock clicking in place.

“Jade!” A fist flies through the icy plastic, banging loud against steel. “Jade, I’m gonna strangle you when I’m out! I’m gonna break your fuckin’ terrariums!” You think you just saw the steel door dent with the force of Floyd’s kick.

A pregnant moment of silence settles between you two. Floyd refuses to turn around. After a few more threats and punches to the door, he still remains spine facing you.

By now, you have picked yourself from the ground, hugging yourself. All you are wearing is a thin unbutton, apron, slacks, and a thin tank top. Your shoes and Octavinelle hat might keep some heat circulating. Four to six hours? That is too generous for what you are wearing; Jade probably got that statistic about people wearing winter gear.

When another shiver races down your vertebrates and Floyd still has not moved, you quietly poke, “Um, Floyd. Do you know what’s up with Jade?”

“Ugh, I told him I had this handled.”

“What handled?”

It seems you were not supposed to hear that because Floyd finally turns around. Droopy eyes give you a fleeting, disinterested once over. Besides his usual fidgeting, he appears unbothered by the cold. Spinning around with a sigh, Floyd aims at his vitriol at you with a glare.

When he stalks toward you like a predator, you straighten up. While not entirely experienced in fights, you are not going to be the squeeze-toy thrown to an angry mongrel to be torn apart until stuffing flies like snow. The fist you were preparing loosens when Floyd simply reclaims his spot on the ground, leaning against the opposite wall. Huh?

“I’mma go to sleep. Wake me up when Jade opens the door.”

Huh!

“Wait, but can’t you get us out with magic?”

“Jade used that spell again; needs two mages to unlock it.”

A curse sizzles under your breath. It grows into a mushroom cloud of air in front of your face, crystalizing. Fuck, it is like a miniature Antartica. Not wanting to display any weakness, you only rub your hand up your left arm instead of rubbing both like you desperately want to. “Well, there’s got to be a reason why. Revenge for slacking off?”

Floyd does not answer you. He just sits with his legs pulled up and chin resting on his knees. “Look, I gotta get out of here. I’ll freeze to death.” At that his eyes grow a bit more alive, flickering up to you. A weak half-smile is aimed at you.

“Well, I don’t want a popsicle Shrimpy.”

“So, you can get the door open? Oh, that’s a relief!”

Turns out Floyd cannot get the door open because all he does is start stripping. HUH! Floyd might be a little too late in stopping you from turning into a popsicle; you remain frozen solid, openly leering with questions. You only unthaw when you see it is just his Octavinelle jacket and scarf he is taking off. Those two items he offers you in an outstretched hold.

“I thought you could get us out of here,” you mourn with a whine.

“Unless you gain magic, I can’t. Here, it’s not going bite –”

You barely let Floyd get out another word before you are throwing on his jacket and mummifying yourself with his scarf. Screw humility, you bet half your salary that this freezer dips into the negatives at times. Oversized, his jacket falls at the midpoint of your thighs. You squeeze yourself in an imaginary embrace, trying to bottle up all your warmth and –

“Why are you holding your hand out still?”

“I don’t really mind the cold. You’re gonna start shiverin’. You should sit.”

“I’m fine.” Your toothpick flies up and down in your mouth, moving to the beat of your full body shivers. “I’ll still be able to move when Jade unlocks the door.”

“C’mon Shrimpy.”

“I’m not going to cuddle up with you for warmth.”

“It’s not cuddlin’, it’s squeezin’.”

“Same thing.”

“Nuh uh.”

“Yuh uh.”

“Nuh uh.”

“Yuh uh!”

“Nuh uh!”

You end up letting Floyd squeeze you to keep you warm; it is not cuddling.

Sitting between his long legs, accepting his arms which wrap around your waist, letting him rest his sleepy head on your shoulder as the black strand tickles your cheek. It is not cuddling because he holds you with cement arms instead of in soft amatory. Despite that, it is helping with fending off hypothermia.

Floyd’s hands are flushed pink, almost frostbitten. When you look down at where his embrace locks, you see the crimson flesh of his phalanges and your own hands ache from just looking at them. Your hands are tucked in Floyd’s jacket sleeves. Only equipped with a button-up now, there isn’t much to keep him protected from the frigid ventilation.

“Pu-Put your hands under my jacket.” You break a silence that has been stretching on seemingly infinitely. Snotty slugs run down your nose and you sniff them back into their home. “You’re going to lose a finger.”

“I’m fiiine,” Floyd mumbles into your shoulder. He has been drifting in and out of sleep for, well, you do not know how long truthfully. He seems to be stewing deep in thought.

It takes only a minute (you counted in your head) to get him to put his hands under your tank-top and all the layers above it. They feel unnaturally hot against your skin. Moderate frostbite. You thank him for listening then go back to counting the number of boxes in the room for a third time.

“There’s got to be some kind of loose screw or like weak area in the magic, right?”

Frustrated, you pat the steel door, nudging the plastic out of your way with your shoulders. After whittling down so many toothpicks, you start to grow fidgety. You need to go outside and take a smoke break; hell, you would forgo the cigarette just to get a breath of fresh air.

Claustrophobia settling in, you press your frostbitten fingers over the seam of the metal door and wall. Maybe you can use something to push the lock open. “Maybe I can knock something into this spot and unlock the door.”

“Jadio sealed it up with magic. It ain’t gonna open.”

“If you’re not gonna help, zip it.”

“You talked to me first.”

“That’s it! Quiet game starting now!”

You lie on Floyd’s side, sharing his jacket like a blanket, when you murmur, “Floyd, I’m sorry about earlier.”

“... Ya lose the quiet game, Shrimpy.”

“Hehe, damn, you’re right.” You two watch your laughter float up in clouds of cold air.

It takes until Floyd gets the start of deep frostbite and you get the start of superficial frostbite when he admits softly, “I think I know something that might work.”

You look up with shiny eyes. Growing really frustrated, unshed tears have started to cling to your eyelashes. Not that they would really vanish if you ended up crying. The image of tears freezing on your face is much more appropriate.

Poking your mouth out of Floyd’s scarf like a timid turtle, you ask, “What were you thinking?”

“I was thinkin’ –” Floyd trails off, oddly shy. He is already flushed from the chill but you watch crimson spread like an infection. He will not look at you.

His red expression reminds you of the time you took a toothpick to pick food out his teeth … wait, a minute: The shrimp congregate in teams called a ‘cleaning station’ and move across the whole body of the eel – including inside the mouth – removing parasites and dead skin. Now you two definitely match on levels of blushing.

Why do I think of that now; you startle when Floyd’s eyes narrow down at you.

He drinks in each atom and molecule of you with his eyes. Snotty nose, flushed face, shivering tremors all ingredients used to make the messy image that is you at this very moment. Floyd could not ask for a better sight. A little apprehensive at his intense staring, you hide your chin in his lilac scarf. He looks like he wants to take a bite of you –

“Shrimpy, I love you.”

“...

“Huh?”

“You don’t needa say it back or anything.

“Just,” Floyd then pronounces his next words like someone speaking to customer service, making sure each syllable is clear. “Shrimpy. I. Love. You.” Your face creases at his odd tone until you hear it – the click of the steel door being unlocked. Your eyes widen in shock. “There we go,” Floyd says, reaching one hand through the plastic hangers to push open the entrance.

“Ya can just forget this – mmh!”

Reviewing and backtracking, a stomach and intestines is viscera and viscera is a stomach and intestines. Each organ of your own viscera is working itself into this violent kiss. Churning and ruminating like lustful waves. You have to digest each part of Floyd Leech in this kiss or you will starve.

This has marinated long enough.

It is even better than your dreams.

When you take his tongue in your mouth, each nerve on your tongue flares up in a sweet vibration. Warmth melts through your bones as you grasp at Floyd’s hair and he pulls you up by your waist. He is a bit inexperienced but he is surely reacting positively to it.

This savory flavor is unlike anything you have ever tasted. Tagging and twisting tongues, you two devour each other like you are each other’s three star michelin feast. With harsh bites, you two switch flavor profiles with which area that is explored.

Like an inmate on death row, you take care and time with making sure each lick and bite is savored. Peppermint and meat. A laugh huffs into Floyd’s mouth, you were not expecting such a weird combination.

You two break apart momentarily, panting breaths beating out in tiny clouds against the cold. Sharing a moment where you both just want to stare at each other. His olive-brown and gold eyes are like heavenly light. There are sand-flickers of a dozen different hues in each one, all shades deliquescing together to make them glow slightly. He has such a tender look in them.

Five seconds is far too long to pause kissing; you and Floyd both agree, throwing yourself back at each other.

Each part that Floyd touches on you ignites with a hellish fire. Not even the negative temperatures of the freezer can subdue such a flaming sensation. He cradles your organ and skeletal system with such care, moving kidney to lung to lymph nodes, moving ilium to scapula to xiphoid process. Every part of you worshiped.

You are never going to come up for air. You both have waited far too long for this.

I’m gonna fucking bite his lips off, you think with untamed carnivorous desire. It seems Floyd agrees to the sentiment. Because he eagerly follows when you move him by a handful of his hair on the right side, black and teal threading through fierce fingers.

“Aah,” Floyd gasps when you pull.

“Mmmm,” you moan when Floyd squeezes.

“Ah,” Jade squeaks surprised.

You pull away first, head snapping towards the open door. Iron hot warmth burns your lips. You look at Floyd’s twin with horror when you realize you definitely have salvia coated generously on your lips. Mourning that it is not blood on your tongue, you listen as Jade says, “I felt the spell break, but it looks like I made an ill-thought-out decision to check. My apologies; please continue.”

But you cannot because – “my fucking scallops, Jade! If those are burnt, I’m going to break your terrariums!”

“My, what flaming anger. Perhaps another hour in the freezer.”

Both you and Floyd run at Jade just as he unclips his magic pen.

This should not be that big of a deal.

You have done this a hundred times over and will continue to do it a hundred times over. So there is absolutely no rational reason for your hands to be shaking on this avalanche level intensity. Still – looking down at them, clutched around a tiny red coffin – there your hands are … at the end of your wrists … shaking.

There is still time to dispose of the evidence. On both hands you can count the number of people who would be more than grateful to receive this little tomb. Two of them happened to have beast features on the top of their heads, and one of the two already expressed interest in it.

(“How does this smell?”

“Shishishi, smells delicious. I didn’t know today was payday.”

“Wait! Aaah, don’t touch it please – this isn’t payment.”

“Hm,” confusion knits Ruggie’s face. “Then why bother asking?”

You cannot meet his eyes at that moment. Shuffling shoes suddenly seem more interesting as you murmur sheepishly under your breath. “It’s a little embarrassing.” Unable to elaborate further, you open up the red box. Aroma and warmth swims through the air. Ruggie’s eyes widen as he takes in the sight.

“Oh. I get it now.”

You ruminate at that moment, vomiting out all your insecurities. You barely even stop between each word. All of it pulled from you by an imaginary fish hook: “It’s so embarrassing; I’m going to throw it out!!”

“Don’t you dare.” Ruggie yells as you rush off to find a trash-can.) Eventually, Ruggie did manage to convince you to keep it in a very cop-talks-down-a-suicide-jumper with the cop being him and the suicide jumper, the bento box.

Floyd will – backtrack, Floyd is going to laugh at it. You are just stuck on predicting if his high-pitched laughter will be mocking or amused. Perhaps, his dominant hand will come to rest on his right shoulder, miffed beyond sensibility. The bento contains a mini-hot-dog-faced bear sleeping under a blanket of rice, dyed to look like a watermelon, with dreams of corn, cucumbers, and meat floating above his head. Is that amusing or aggravating?

Waking up so early in the morning to make another lunch on top of the ones prepared for yourself and Grim … what illness have you caught, fever turning your hands into fretful shaking limbs … what happens if he hates the bear and would prefer a bunny or panda … you even stressed over picking an aquatic themed bento, but decided it against it because it was too on-the-nose for your tastes.

If a heart is made of meaty worries and anxieties, you put your heart into this meal. Head down, roaming Night Raven’s halls, you blush hard at the thought.

Things have been escalating fast between you two. Floyd’s shyness melted away when you two stumbled out of the walk-in freezer. His body and blood eagerly reveal his own matching hunger. You still remember last night kneading dough at Ramshackle, him nestling you from behind and pressing more and more kisses to your pulse point. Both of you devour each other in lip to lip kisses.

Love, an ingredient in the kitchen.

By the time you have arrived at your destination, your face has thankfully cooled down. There he stands. He is caught up in a conversation with Jade as Azul patiently waits off to the side. I shouldn’t interrupt them, you think and gladly grab onto that detour. If you turn down the left hallway, you can avoid this and pass Ruggie’s D period class. This vulnerability is worse than the vulnerability of being magicless. I should go. They seem busy –

“Shrimpy!” Your heart knocks hard on the muscles of your throat at that nickname. How does he always know when you are around?

Closing the gap, refusing to make eye-contact. You can feel the casual observation of Azul and Jade on you as you display what is in your hands. Stop shaking, you big baby, you scold yourself. “Floyd. This is – um –.”

“Is that for me? Aw, does Shrimpy like me or something? That’s cute — a little shrimp with a little crush.”

You finally look up. An amused, mismatched pair of eyes squint impishly at you. Miles of intestines give a teapot boiling over sound in rage. Okay, two can play at that:

“Jade. How nice to see you! I happened to make extra for my own lunch; I noticed your habit of eating more than one meal at lunch and thought you would enjoy this.”

“My, what a gracious offer. Thank you, (Name). I will be sure to savor every bite.”

What you are offering to Jade is suddenly swiped: “HEY, THAT’S MINE!”

Your lips quirk up, expecting that. His next move you are much less prepared for. Halfhazardlessly, he flips open the box as if to check that Jade has not eaten anything from the tomb. All of his energy drips out of him, bloodletting-esque. He almost appears paler.

His only response is a slow blink directed at you.

“You don’t have to eat it. Grim or Ruggie will – And! And I get it! It’s pretty embarrassing. I totally get –” Your word vomit is swallowed by a pair of lips.

Floyd does not even give you a chance to reciprocate, pulling away with laughter on his tongue. Not mocking or amused. Lovey-dovey laughter.

Love has such a wonderful flavor. Right there, in the belly of the beast.

#floyd leech x reader #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #floyd leech

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tiyoin · 1 month

Text

heartbeats to the drum

floyd x reader

sigh floyd being a softy for you and only you

sighhhhh floyd treating you like a glass flower one day and a stress toy the next. ofc he’s unconventional with his love, the slightest bit of worry fogging his mind as he wonders if you’ll leave because of his many quirks.

but that wasn’t always the case

he follows the beat of his own drum, not once stopping or changing it for anyone or anything. if they don’t like it- who cares! not their drum, go find another or whatever…. yet you followed him, followed his rhythm, danced to it sometimes. tripped and fell flat on your ass too, a a fleeting sense of satisfaction felt as he figured you’d had enough and would leave him be like all the other unimportant minnows.

but whenever he looked back, you were still there, a little further, but still following him… jade and azul were just as surprised as floyd when you kept following him. through his rough pounding of war drums, to the soft lonely pings of a bongo that suddenly switched to a war snare, then to a smooth jazz rhythm- he was unpredictable.

switching his styles, rhythms and interests on an impulsive whim. that was floyd. jade would follow sometimes too, though he created his own too. straying from floyd’s more often than not.

so one day, when floyd stopped drumming, stopped walking to do something he normally hate doing on a ‘bad day:2 (which was standing still.) he opted to listen for once. just once. expecting to hear the usual pitter patter of your feet, or the soft humming you’d usually let out, but there was nothing. nothing but silence and stillness around him.

a comet of a thought raced through the night sky of his mind. maybe he marched too fast, or went to far- he scoffs

‘finally,’ he thinks with a heavy mind ‘you got the hint that he wasn’t stopping or changing for no one. that you should just give. up. and go home.’

but like orpheus in the one tales of old in your world you would sometimes divulge him in. there’s a dying need to just turn around and look, to see if you were still following.

he shouldn’t though… he shouldn’t let his mind wonder and his heart pick up a pace. you reality that you weren’t there was already a preconceived notion in his mind. the inner workings of his soul not sensing yours. the voice in his head telling him he was free to march on without anyone bothering him.

yet… there was a feeling, and itch somewhere. he couldn’t place where that itch was and it pissed him off. was it inside or outside his human form? maybe it was his mer instincts taking over? the hunter in him subtly telling him to turn around? nah, that couldn’t be it, right? i mean logically, that would make sense, but… it couldn’t be…

floyd does what he wants when he wants. so he’ll look on his own chagrin thank you very much. yet, like slowly ripping off a bandaid, he turned his head.

he could almost howl in laughter.

because there you were, sitting down and playing with your hands. he couldn’t hear you cause you were taking a break, waiting for him to continue drumming so you could follow along, like how a whale calf would cling and follow their mother.

floyd was good with his emotions, he’d like to think- but anyone around him would disagree. but for him it was simple, if he was happy, he was happy, if he was sad, he was sad yadda yadda yah.

he sometimes couldn’t understand how people couldn’t feel like him or understand him, excluding jade and azul on numerous occasions. he was emotionally intelligent enough to realize that his mood swings weren’t convenient or conceived as normal behavior, especially to humans. that there was an irrational logic or a spring loose to the compass that dictated his life.

yet here you were, always right behind him, following him, almost clinging to him. like a barnacle. a pesky, useless barnacle…

his shadow blocked the light that was once illuminating your figure, looking up at him with a smile as he just stared down at you. his neutral, bored expression slowly churned and morphed into a boyish/ teenage expression someone your age would normally sport.

floyd would tell you that he held that neutral expression, that you were hallucinating when his neutral frown grew into a lazy grin or how his brows lifted into an almost, almost softer expression. no there wasn’t any crinkle in his nose either!! or in his eyes!!

but despite his protests and self proclaimed emotional maturity he’d talk to you about. sometimes, when our mind is too busy processing, our body’s will usually give away our intentions, our true thoughts that we aren’t aware of. a lot of the times, without our consent or knowledge.

you call it habitual responses while floyd calls it inconvenient lies.

but that doesn’t matter, because that day he handed you a triangle and a little metal stick along with it. helped you up, and continued marching.

idk where i was going with this, i wrote as i thought.

i’m gonna try to get better at symbolism because i love that style of writing. hehe

sorry if this is poo poo i wrote it in a combined 30 minutes, before and after therapy 🤷🏻

idk if it’s too short to put a ‘read more’ cut in, or not

#tiyoin 🔎#so uhhhh therapy therapied a littttle too hard today hahahaha #me yapping #twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #floyd leech x reader #floyd leech #floyd x reader #floyd leech twst

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torukmaktoskxawng · 1 year

Text

'anla - part two

Series Masterlist

Summary: Life on the reef has started to change the Sully kids for the better, while a storm looms overhead. Certain teenagers are in denial of each other.

Pairing: Ao'nung/Fem!Na'vi!Sully Reader

Warnings: Mature language, teenagers acting their age, time skips, strict parents, puppy love, canon compliance, slow burn, etc.

Word Count: 5k+

Tag: #'anla ao'nung fic

Na'vi Words: nivi - hammocks, marui - homes, ilu - dolphin like creatures, tulkun - whale like creatures, tsurak - skimwings, Sänrr Rong - the Glow Tunnel, spä - jump, olo'eyktan - clan leader, sa'sem - parents, Iknimaya - Rite of Passage, tsahik - spiritual leader, tsakarem - tsahik in training, tsmukan - brother, Utraya Moktri - Metkayina Spirit Tree, kuru - braid neural queue, fpxafaw - medusa

Taglist (red indicates "could not tag"): @timotheechalametishot @ghost-lantern @shadowmoonlight0604 @melsunshine @ocd-onut @purennn @themostegotisticalgirl124 @notsochillnerd @athenachu @yhern05 @amortencjja

A/N: I tagged everyone from the comment section of the first chapter who was excited or asking for part two. I couldn't respond to them in the comment section because this is a secondary account, so if you do or don't want to be on the taglist, please let me know via ask box or dm, thank you!

read it here on ao3

(I do not consent to my works being reposted or copied)

Kiri had woken shortly after, crying, but was otherwise unharmed and showing no signs what happened had affected her. They gave her a day to recover in their home while the rest of the Sullys went about their day normally, sending Norm and Max away with heartfelt goodbyes and returning to the sea life they had started to grow accustomed to.

Lo'ak and Y/n were put in charge of plucking barnacles off the bottom of canoes for the afternoon, and the young boy takes the time to avoid silence and boredom, "So what are you doing with Ao'nung?"

Y/n doesn't react or even bother looking up from her handiwork, "What do you mean?"

"I mean when did you guys become friends?"

She looked up then, puzzled as she stared at her younger brother, "I'm confused. Weren't we trying to all be friends?"

Lo'ak paused from working for a moment, shrugging, "Well, we were trying to just earn their respect and get along, but yeah, I guess we did come out as friends."

"I guess we're full of surprises."

"But the other night, you guys were being... weird."

Y/n huffed with mirth, "Look who's talking."

"Shut up." He snarled, "Have you guys been hanging out a lot?"

"Not really. Just a few times lately."

"Is that where you were the other night? This... Arch?"

"Yeah. Ao'nung said he had something to show me."

Lo'ak's expression goes blank, "Y/n. Dad taught us to literally never follow someone just because they said they have something to show you. He called it 'stranger danger' or something like that."

She tossed a barnacle at him, "Is this coming from the boy who willingly followed Ao'nung and his friends beyond the reef?"

"... Okay. Fine. You win."

"Besides, Ao'nung didn't phrase it like that. It was a lot less creepy."

"So why didn't he invite the rest of us to the Arch?"

"You guys had already gone for the day so he just took me." Y/n then reached over to mess with Lo'ak's hair, earning an annoyed hiss and she smiles, "Don't look too closely at it, alright? We're friends now."

~~~~~~~~~

A peaceful morning where the Sullys find themselves rolling up their nivi after a night's rest is interrupted by a horn, followed by whoops and hollers of celebration coming from outside. Confused and on edge, Jake and the kids emerge from the marui, looking around as the Metkayina jump around and dive into the water, making the newcomers curious as to what was going on.

Their answer came in the form of Tsireya, astride an ilu as she waves down her people from the water below their homes, "The tulkun have returned! Everybody! Our brothers and sisters have returned!"

Y/n looked up toward the atoll walls protecting the village from less docile nature. Emerging from the tunnels and pathways were rolling waves indicating something large underneath the water. Spurts of seaspray spring out like geysers from beneath the ocean's surface. It was a large pod of whale-like creatures, massive and slow. Their descent onto the village was graceful and one that brought much joy to the Metkayina as they couldn't get in the water fast enough.

The Sully kids couldn't wait either, jumping from the walkway around their home and into the water below. They scatter, exploring the new creatures one way or another. Tsireya had grabbed Lo'ak when she spotted him and pulled him onto her ilu, swimming away to introduce him to her Spirit Sister. Jake summoned his tsurak and both he and Neytiri take off to observe the sacred animals themselves. Rotxo had come around and pulled Kiri and Tuk away too, leaving the twins to their own devices. Ao'nung was not far behind his friend, inviting Neteyam and Y/n to come along with him to find his own Spirit Brother. All three teenagers grab an ilu and take off, making a game of chase with Ao'nung in the lead.

They weave through and around the large bodies of tulkun, dodging other ilu and Na'vi while keeping close to Ao'nung the entire time. He leads them through the chaos expertly, the three teenagers swimming quickly around a particular tulkun. Kiri, Tuk, and Rotxo were hanging onto the bull's fin and gliding peacefully through the water, the tulkun likely the reef boy's Spirit Brother. Neteyam and Y/n are only able to catch a glimpse of this as they swim by, keeping close to Ao'nung's tail until he slows down in front of a particular bull. This tulkun didn't have tattoos yet, much like Ao'nung as he signed to the twins, "My Spirit Brother."

Neteyam drifts close to the creature's eye, signing, "Greetings, mighty tulkun."

"I See you, Forest Brother." The tulkun sang as his form of speaking, and luckily, having had enough lessons, Neteyam and Y/n were able to grasp the old language.

Y/n ditched her ilu and swam up next, signing effortlessly, "I See you, Great Spirit Brother of Ao'nung."

"Hello, Forest Sister. I See you."

Ao'nung's hand gestures were too fast, and the twins were unable to read them but they had no need. The signing was not for them as Ao'nung was trying to relay a season's worth of events to his Spirit Brother, more excited than either Omatikaya have ever seen him. Ao'nung was smiling softly, and brightly as he tried to tell a story only to stumble over his own way of telling it. The tulkun in front of him chimed in as his way of laughing, urging the Na'vi boy to slow down. Y/n managed to pick up some of the gestures after Ao'nung slowed, not missing the words 'Sky People', 'Forest People', and 'new friends'.

Neteyam took a break to swim up and get some air, but Y/n managed to stay underwater a little longer. She didn't want to miss a second of this adorable interaction, and somehow found herself roped in it when the tulkun turned its eye to her.

"Ao'nung tells me that you are a mighty warrior, Y/n te Suli Neytiri'ite."

"He's being nice in your presence," Y/n signed back with a grin, "I have seen war but not been a part of it. I am too young. I am a hunter at best."

Neteyam, still treading water at the surface, takes a deep breath and simply dunks his face underwater, looking back down to locate Y/n and Ao'nung. He found them below, right where he had left them with the bull tulkun. Y/n was signing to the creature, keeping herself swimming next to his eye while Ao'nung floated off to the side, watching them. Neteyam didn't miss the way Ao'nung was staring at her, yet again, when she was not looking. The reef boy's face was calm, his lips relaxing into a soft, carefree smile, never taking his eyes off the Na'vi girl.

That evening was full of celebration, music and dancing a central part of it. Bonfires lined up the beach where the village people could still be close to their ocean brothers and sisters. Late night dives through bioluminescent waves, sending scattered stars up to the sky whenever a splash was made or a tulkun jumped through the air, cascading back down into the water.

Ao'nung kept Neteyam and Y/n with him most of the evening, adamantly talking about his Spirit Brother and the stories exchanged between them. At one point, the three of them were sitting on the edge of a rock fixture, their toes in the water below as they watched the tulkun dancing around in the distance. Neteyam rolled his eyes lightheartedly at a certain part of Ao'nung's story where his mischief had got the best of him. The Omatikaya boy took a moment to glance at his sister, then looked away-- only to double-check when he saw something that intrigued him.

Y/n was watching Ao'nung with a tender expression, her smile sweet and fond as her eyes locked onto every hand gesture and every laugh Ao'nung made, who was clearly unaware of her stares throughout his story-telling. She laughed and nodded whenever she was supposed to in between tales, urging the boy on when he knew he had an avid listening audience. Neteyam smiled, too, though he was sure it wasn't for the same reasons his sister was smiling.

~~~~~~~~~

After that fateful day, Ao'nung invited Neteyam and Y/n to everything. They spent whole afternoons together, sometimes sitting around on the rocks, soaking up the sun while they exchanged stories. After hearing all of Ao'nung's tales between him and his Spirit Brother, either one or both twins would tell him stories from the forest growing up. They told him everything, from their childhood to recent events before they had left their home. Ao'nung was actually a good listener if one sat him down to do so. He nodded in acknowledgment and asked questions between appropriate breaks in the stories. Neteyam could tell how much Y/n appreciated this side of Ao'nung, the girl perking up and gladly answering whatever questions he had. At the end of the day, Neteyam couldn't recall if he ever answered any of Ao'nung's questions himself, but he didn't have the heart to care.

The three were also fond of hunting together and sometimes brought Rotxo and Lo'ak along, this time within the reef and with higher spirits. Some days they would mess around too much and wouldn't catch anything, other times they used their newfound friendship and teamwork to coordinate and bring home enough fish to feed all their families combined.

Ao'nung and Y/n decide to bring all the kids to Sänrr Rong. Tuk was the more ecstatic out of all of them, but everyone was delighted by this new place they could use as a hideout away from their parents. This time, they got a chance to cliff dive from the very top of the arch. The reef kids showed them the path up but were shocked to watch the Sully kids effortlessly climb up the rock as if they were born to do so. Even Tuk showed zero signs of exhaustion as she took a stable vine hand and scurried up it like a monkey. The Omatikaya children were clearly faster and more agile climbers than the Metkayina and therefore made it to the top before the locals even had a chance.

"We'll throw you down a vine so you can catch up," Y/n jeers as she pointedly climbed over Ao'nung.

The reef boy hissed, though it appeared to be playful as he makes a point to tug her tail as she passed him. Y/n hissed back and made sure to gently shove his big forehead with her toes as she climbed before leaping out of reach. They all eventually make it to the top of the cliff, hair whipping wildly in the unforgivable winds, then the reef kids stood over the edge, looking down at the ocean water below.

"Okay! Everyone ready?" Tsireya beamed with excitement.

"For what?" Lo'ak questioned.

"SPÄ!" Rotxo hoots to the clouds as he jumps off the ledge, straightening his legs and stiffening his posture as he falls-- falls-- falls--

SPLASH.

"Who's next?" Ao'nung grinned.

Lo'ak was closest to the edge, peering over and even squinting when he couldn't spot Rotxo all the way down there, wadding in the sea, "Has anyone died doing this?"

The reef boy laughed, "If you wanna be the first, then don't stiffen your form as Rotxo did. Flail about like a screaming baby."

"Me next!" Tuk squealed.

"NO!" All four of her siblings, including Tsireya, shout in different ranges of emotion, such as fear, amusement, and seriousness.

The little girl stomps her foot, pouting as she crossed her arms, "Then why am I even here?"

"To keep me company," Y/n cut in, tugging her baby sister's arm until the shorter girl is pressed into her side. Y/n holds her tight while carefully watching the cliff, being sure to stay close to the middle and away from all edges.

"Aw, Forest Girl, you are scared," Ao'nung laughs, clapping his hands together once in amusement, "I thought you liked to fly?"

She glares at him, sticking her nose up in the direction of the cliff's edge, "That's not flying. It's falling."

Needless to say, Y/n and Tuk didn't do any cliff diving and left that to their other siblings. Kiri went first after Tsireya offered to go with her. Holding hands, the girls jump, screaming and laughing with both delight and horror. Neteyam paced along the edge of the cliff until he watched Kiri's head rise from the water, then relaxed. Once Ao'nung dared the Sully boys to race to the bottom, they were suddenly all for it, jumping off at the same time. Ao'nung took his time and teetered over the edge, grinning when he watched how nervous Y/n shuffled, keeping Tuk close to her side. The future olo'eyktan pretended to lose his balance, earning a laugh from Little Tuk and a scowl from Y/n before Ao'nung also jumped, hitting the water with practiced ease and a laugh still bubbling in his throat.

They climbed up and jumped back down several times, each time trying to persuade Y/n to jump. She put her foot down every time, even when her twin Neteyam offered to either go with her or stay with Tuk. Still, Y/n would not give into the peer pressure and Tuk was miserable by the time they returned home, squawking to her parents while stating that no one would let her cliff dive. Jake and Neytiri exchanged looks and appeared grateful when they nod to their older children with approval.

~~~~~~~~~

The Sully kids' lessons continue as usual, the older ones now granted permission to hunt in groups outside the reef if they pleased. Once they were fluent in signing, they learned to strengthen their knowledge in communicating with the tulkun for the next time. Their knowledge was tested when Tsireya, Ao'nung, and Rotxo refused to talk to them unless they used and perfected the language through signing. When Jake and Neytiri call their children home every night, they often find them sitting silently among each other, only using hand motions to communicate.

Many times, the group of friends return to the Glow Tunnel, to have fun or to enjoy the silence. Each time they all gathered at the center of the village, ready to go back to the Arch, everyone was so eager. All except one particular day, when Lo'ak was nowhere to be found once it was time to go. His absence did not go unnoticed. While Kiri decided to bring Tuk home, the others volunteered to go look for him, and hopefully, he wasn't in trouble like last time. With their newfound hunting party privileges, they go swimming beyond the reef in search of the Omatikaya boy.

They stumble upon Lo'ak by chance, and he wasn't alone. Swimming around him was an impressive tulkun, the left side of the bull scarred and missing a fin. Payakan. Neteyam and Y/n look at each other, worried, while the reef children watch curiously. Payakan and Lo'ak swam around each other like dancers, graceful and practiced. Then, the tulkun turned, fully facing Lo'ak, and opened his mouth, jaw unhinging to reveal the dark cave within. Lo'ak willingly swam in, and Payakan closed his mouth behind him. The twins went to scurry out of hiding as they watched this happen, but both Tsireya and Ao'nung stop them while Rotxo looked on, amazed.

Tsireya went on to further explain that Payakan had chosen Lo'ak to form tsaheylu, and while she appeared proud and excited at the idea, Ao'nung and Rotxo exchanged uncertain glances. Y/n had noticed this exchange, reaching out and grabbing Ao'nung's shoulder, forcing him to look back at her. When the reef boy met her curious gaze, she made movements in the water with her hands, "What is wrong?"

Ao'nung shakes his head and signs back, "Sa'sem will not be pleased."

They definitely were not. Once Lo'ak returned home with the other teenagers, word spread fast and reached Tonowari's ears. Together, he and Ronal round up the teens and brought them to their marui to have a stern lecture, berating the Metkayina children for allowing Lo'ak to bond with the tulkun outcast. It didn't go well as Lo'ak was adamant about Payakan being misunderstood and how he wasn't a killer, even by the Tulkun Way. Jake Sully refused to let his son explain and took him away to straighten him out, but the damage had already been done. Neytiri gathered the twins and followed the father and troubled son home.

They hadn't gone to the communal meal that night, instead, they ate together at home, as a family. Jake was certain that the Metkayina would only receive Lo'ak coldly should they turn up there now, so he suggested that they wait until things cooled down before returning to the village dinners. The Sullys' absence was missed that night, mostly by the children who had slowly become their friends.

Y/n was distressed when her family stayed close to their home the next morning, her father ordering the children to stay near and don't go further beyond the walkways of the village. It felt like a prison sentence to be stuck in one place when it was such a beautiful day out. Neytiri promised her children that they can move on with their lives tomorrow once Jake had calmed down and she spoke to him, but for now, "Listen to your father."

"I see that if one sibling gets punished, we all get punished now," Y/n snarled to Neteyam when she found a moment alone with her twin. Neytiri took Jake hunting with her so that they may talk, while the twins were ordered to look after their younger siblings for the night. Lo'ak and the girls went to sleep not long after their parents had gone, but the oldest son and daughter remained wide awake, talking quietly to one another just outside the marui.

Neteyam exhaled air through his nose, squinting at the dark ink of water in the distance, absently swinging one leg off the side of the walkway, "You don't mean that."

"No?"

"You're just saying that because you've been stuck here with all of us today, unable to go anywhere."

He turned and clocked the snarl on her nearly identical face, her eyebrow hairs furrowing together while she looked away, rocking herself by her heels, "I hate it."

Neteyam smiled fondly, "I know you do. You always hated small spaces. I can see why you like this place better than home."

A pregnant pause hangs in the air over the twins, the only sounds around them being the water and the village, still stirring with life as things begin to settle down. Y/n doesn't look back at Neteyam, sitting on his words for a moment until she slowly turns back, expression blank and immovable, "I don't like this place better than home. I miss home."

"Of course you do. Doesn't change the fact that you're far more free here than you were back there. You've adjusted well here, even if Dad doesn't see it," Neteyam leans over and pats his sister's knee, "He doesn't see how fast you caught onto the Metkayina ways, he just sees all the times we screwed up."

Her ears flatten as she glares at him through her eyelids, unimpressed, "You mean how Lo'ak screwed up."

"We, Y/n. We."

She rolls her sharp, yellow eyes, "If anything, Dad should be proud of him. Bonding with a tulkun is a young Metkayina's first step to their Iknimaya."

"And only you would know that because you've gotten so accustomed here."

She winced, batting his hand from her knee, "You can't talk like this when one day we're just gonna be heading home again. Stop it now. Talk less about how much we like this place and it might hurt less when we eventually leave."

"Do you want to leave?" He cocks his head, eyes scanning her face for an answer.

"... I want to see the forest again."

"That's not what I asked."

"... Do you?"

"Yes."

Y/n's eyes squint, confused, "Why?"

"I have nothing here."

"You have us. You have our friends."

"Yes, but that's all," Neteyam looks around and Y/n follows his gaze, "You have the ocean, the plant life, the sea life. The ilu, the Sänrr Rong-- everything. You love everything about this place. I only love the people. Don't get me wrong. It's a beautiful paradise and I loved experiencing every part of it... but I want to go home. I felt more at peace there."

"At peace?" The twin girl scowled, "We were at war, 'Teyam."

"Yes." She doesn't miss the way his eyes darken a shade, expression hardening into stone as he glares back out to the sea, "But war is what I was trained for."

The silence is chilling this time, Y/n's heart dropping to her stomach as guilt runs through her veins. Even as twins, Neteyam was still the older brother. He and Y/n might have been conceived during a war, but Neteyam had been bred for it, whether or not their parents realized this. Before Kiri was in the picture and before either she or Y/n had their own voices, Y/n was the one expected to be the next tsahik. With Little Y/n learning the Will of Eywa from her grandmother, Neteyam was learning to be the next olo'eyktan. He had to learn to be strong quick, to hunt quick, to think quick. Even when Y/n finally put her foot down and passed the torch of tsakarem to Kiri, she couldn't catch up to all Neteyam had already learned. She wasn't able to share that burden with her twin, and that guilt hung heavy in her heart.

"... That's not a good thing, tsmukan." She spoke gently, even her whisper sounding like a drum in the silence, "There's more to life than fighting."

"I know," Neteyam's posture shrinks, defeated, his smile not quite reaching his eyes when he glances back to Y/n, "But I haven't found what that 'more' is yet. Not for me at least... You did."

"I did?" She tilts her head curiously.

A glint sparkles in Neteyam's eye, like he knew a secret that not even his twin knew. His tail swings behind him with interest, teasing when he nudged her leg with his shoulder, "Ao'nung is good for you. And you're good for him."

He caught the flash in her eye. The flash of understanding behind the meaning of his words. The flash is there one moment and then gone the next. Y/n shifts uncomfortably in her sitting posture and nods, "He's a good friend."

"He is." Neteyam chuckles, "For me. For Lo'ak, and Kiri, and Tuk. But not for you. For you, he's 'more.'"

Quiet surrounds them once again, Y/n glaring down at her feet as if she had been caught stealing treats from Norm. She looked ashamed and belittled, likely wishing her own brother didn't know everything about her even before she knew those things herself. She swallows down whatever emotion came to mind before she looked up, stubbornly staring Neteyam down,

"I don't need 'more'. I just need this. This family is all I need."

~~~~~~~~~

The Sully family had been tense ever since Lo'ak bonded with Payakan, speaking few and far in between words to one another if found in the same space. It wasn't much significance to them whether or not Lo'ak had bonded with the outcast, but to Jake, it was all about principle. Whether or not the family was proud or disappointed in Lo'ak's accomplishment had not been said, but something heavy was floating in the air, like the calm before the storm. The idea of war was still fresh at the very back of their minds, ever looming like a vulture, waiting to strike. Something had changed the other night, shifting into place, deciding the Sullys' fates. Although, no one knew what kind of fate, and that unsettled them.

Unlike the rest of her family, however, Y/n wanted to do something about it. She started by finding the one person she knew would help her, "Take me to the Cove of the Ancestors."

Ao'nung looked up from sharpening his spear, ears immediately rising to the sound of her voice. He tilts his head and forms a closed-mouth smile, though his eyes squint in confusion, trying to solve whatever puzzle he found on Y/n's face, "Why?"

"Because you said you would take me there," Y/n quipped back, taking the spear out of his hands and backing away, "I'm cashing in the offer."

"What is 'cashing?'" He stood up, following her with his arm out, only half-heartedly trying to take the spear back from the Omatikaya girl.

When she purposely kept the weapon out of his reach, Ao'nung smirked, taking a huge step forward so he could stare smugly down at her with their subtle height difference. They were close, close enough to share the same air, and despite Neteyam's words playing back in her head, despite the shame and guilt in her gut, Y/n stomped it down and stood strong.

"It means I want you to stand behind your word." She matches his grin with one of her own, ignoring the heat threatening to rise up to her face as she purposely kept eye contact, "You promised to take me to the Cove. I want you to keep your promise."

She stepped away then, never taking her eyes off him until she fully turned back in the direction she came, walking away with the spear still in hand. She could feel his eyes on her, a thrill running up her spine at the mental image of it. An even bigger thrill, the one led by a horn of victory in her head, went through her whole body when she heard Ao'nung dutifully following her without complaint and without question.

They summoned nearby ilu and fled without another word. They dive down deep into the water and only resurfaced when they had left the sea wall and village behind. Once Y/n inhaled the crisp air, she tosses the spear back to Ao'nung, who effortlessly caught it with a grin of excitement and promise, "Follow me."

~~~~~~~~~

A feeling of familiarity took hold of Y/n when she emerged from the water and looked up to find floating islands all around her. An instant smile graces her face, looking around at all the floating rocks, surrounding a wide circle of water at the center of spectacularly arched rocks easily identifying this sacred place. It wasn't entirely like the Hallelujah Mountains. These floating islands were smaller and floated horizontally, like large stepping stones leading up to the heavens above.

Ao'nung emerged and looked around, unimpressed, "This is it."

"It's beautiful."

He shrugged, "It's not much."

"To you, maybe," she grinned while pointing up at the floating rocks, "To me, I see the potential of kicking your ass climbing up those islands."

He laughed, "Careful what you wish for, Forest Girl."

"Is the Tree on one of those islands?"

"Nope." He smiles slyly, "I'll give you another guess though."

She flashed an odd look before looking around, finally staring down below, into the water. Ao'nung dismounted from his ilu and drifted over to Y/n, "Remember, I'm just acting as your diving partner today. We always have to pair up here. One has to watch over and monitor the other while they connect to our ancestors. Got it?" She nods. "Let's go."

The Na'vi girl sinks into the water with him and they submerge after she takes a deep breath. They swim down, side by side, as they approach the large, underwater Spirit Tree. Instead of limbs hanging down like Y/n was used to, this tree's arms reached up, flowing in the water like an overlarge, glowing anemone. Y/n reaches out and gently touches one of the luminous, graceful fronds, smiling to herself when it tickled her palm to greet her.

Ao'nung chirps low in his throat, like a baby crocodile, to grab Y/n's attention. When she turned her head in his direction, he moves his hands about, "The Tree is called Utraya Mokri. It gives breath when the kuru is connected."

Y/n nods in understanding, reaching behind and taking her braid in hand. She gently offers the tendrils to reach out and curl into the ones belonging to the Tree and closed her eyes.

Ao'nung dutifully keeps watch while Y/n connects with his ancestors. The Tree glows and looms beautifully over him, but he's not paying attention. He's seen the Tree hundreds of times and while it is beautiful, it's nothing new. Y/n, on the other hand, is new, and his attention would rather fixate on her than the Tree he's grown bored of over his young life. Her braided hair floats around her like fpxafaw, and her tail, usually dormant, twitches occasionally in response to the bond. Her fingers, all five of them, still delicately hold her braid to the Tree's fronds. Her hands weren't as strange as Ao'nung initially thought. In many ways, he reasoned the extra finger was good for some things-- like the punch Lo'ak fooled him into taking. If nothing else, an extra finger just means more to hold.

Y/n's body jolts and Ao'nung is torn from his traitorous thoughts. He swims forward and wraps his whole hand around her arm and then her kuru lets go of the Tree. Y/n's eyes flutter, still closed, a little dazed and overwhelmed from the whole experience as expected. With Ao'nung's support, she's brought back up to the surface and she slowly remembers to breathe again, now that she didn't have the Spirit Tree to aid her. The two young Na'vi stay there, treading water as Y/n catches her breath, and once her head is no longer foggy, her eyes appeared saddened, an expression that irritated Ao'nung for some reason.

"Not what you were expecting?" He asked light-heartedly.

"It's just..." she shook her head, bottom lip pouting with her eyes lowered, the water reaching up to kiss her chin, "I was hoping for answers."

He didn't ask, but maybe he should have. It's something that would continue to gnaw at him as the rain clouds float overhead. It would gnaw at him as he expressed on returning home before the storm, it would gnaw at him as their swim back resulted in silence and pouring rain. It would continue to gnaw at him as they approached the village, his ears rising to attention when the horn sounds, his blood cooling in fear and worry.

"Find your family."

"Why?" Y/n asked as her ears lowered in concern, loose hairs plastered to her forehead, "What's wrong?"

"It's a war cry. My father has called for a war meeting."

A/N: Not sure when 'part three' will be out, but it'll likely be longer than normal. Thank you so much for all the support and love I have seen from my very first Avatar work! It motivates me to continue doing what I love!

part three

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