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#more thoughts on this when my mental coherence returns
catharsistine · 11 months
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The scene in the Barbie trailer when Barbie is skating around with Ken and asks "Why is everyone staring at me?"
THAT'S EXACTLY WHAT IT FEELS LIKE TO BE AN ADOLESCENT GIRL.
Living in Barbieland (childhood girlhood) but then suddenly you're all grown up in the real world subject to scrutiny and sexualisation (the guy slapping Barbie's ass) and feeling like existing is a crime?
Being forced by adult men into a box (which leads to the not like other girls syndrome) and exploring the 'real world' (being forced to grow up too quickly) while fighting the realisation that maybe the world sucks and being a woman is so difficult while hoping with all your heart that it's not always going to be this way.
Losing touch with the very things that made you happy because they're considered immature and girly? (The group of teens that said they hadn't played with Barbies since they were five.)
Older women telling you that you have to learn the truth about the world and that you can never have your old life back (Kate Mckinnon's Barbie) despite it being the only thing you yearn for, but also older women being a bright spot and support (the old woman on the bench) in the endless slough of life.
And this is just the trailer!!! I'm so excited for this movie I can't breathe, Greta Gerwig the woman that you are 😭
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merakiui · 4 months
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The Most Dangerous Game [2]
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yandere!jade leech x (female) reader cw: yandere, nsfw, slight hints of dub-con, coercion, manipulation, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, friends with benefits, obsession, unrequited/one-sided love, brief angst, choking, pregnancy, implied baby-trapping, characters written as 18+ note - it is never a good idea to make mutually beneficial arrangements with jade leech. // split into two parts due to size. read the first half here.
There’s a certain air about you when you enter the Mostro Lounge.
Radiating confident satisfaction, a cutthroat type of on-top-of-the-world aura that replaces any first day jitters attempting to rise to the surface, you beeline for the kitchen. You know the lounge’s layout well enough—not only as a customer who spent an obsessive amount of time observing these details, but also as Jade’s diligent taste-tester. You’ve been let into the lounge kitchen after hours more often than you’d like to admit, but it only serves to bolster your mental fortitude.
I’m going to kill it today, you assure yourself. Prove to Azul that I’m capable and get closer to Floyd in the process.
As if having read your thoughts, Floyd intercepts you. “Heyyy, Shrimpy really showed up!” He circles you like a curious shark, a smile slowly spreading on his lips. “Lookin’ good.”
You reward his ogling with a twirl in your new uniform, which had been conveniently waiting at your doorstep this morning—wrapped in a pretty box with a big bow. The card had simply read: A uniform to celebrate your newly acquired Officially Octavinelle status. You didn’t have to read further to know who signed the message, and the note had been swiftly torn in two and tossed into the trash while you lamented to Grim and the ghosts about a certain stupid, sly eel.
“Aren’t I just the spitting image of scummy scams and the deep sea?”
“The most spittin’ image anyone’s ever spat,” he agrees with a silly giggle. But then something serious passes over his features. He plucks your hat from off your head and leans in close. “It’s Shrimpy’s first day, so I’m gonna letcha in on a li’l somethin’, kay?”
Out of instinct, you shrink away. His voice is a dangerous whisper, lined with threatening undertones. “Anyone gives you any trouble, you come to me, got it? Don’t think you can’t say nothin’ cuz you’re new.”
“Oh. O-Oh!” You nod hastily, too astounded to rely on your usual quick-witted coherency. “Thank you… I appreciate that.”
Like a flipped switch, he brightens and plops your hat back on your head. “Man, I’m pumped! It’s gonna be so much fun with Shrimpy here!”
You adjust your hat and skip after him, not wanting to slip out of his orbit. “So what’s the plan for today?”
Floyd grins and holds a card between his fingers like a magician readying to reveal his next trick. Foolishly, you assume it’s a love letter up until you watch him scribble something down on a second card. He passes the unmarked one to you, explaining, “Ya gotta sign in for every shift. These things keep track of the hours ya worked, and at the end of every two weeks Azul counts ’em up.”
“That makes sense.” You take the pen he offers and scribble your name and the time in the appropriate boxes, soon handing both to him.
“And after you put it back here, you can start doin’ what you’re supposed to. Least, that’s what I usually do.”
“And that is?”
“Whatever I feel like.”
“Ah, right. Then what about me? What should I do?”
“You’re gonna be with me today. We’ll be takin’ orders and servin’ customers. Doin’ stuff as we go. That sorta thing.”
“All right! Sounds easy enough!” The both of you high-five just as Jade approaches, wearing his usual polite smile.
“My, my. Someone’s in high spirits.”
You nod, too eager to entertain him with another pointless argument. “You bet! Oh, and thanks for the uniform.”
“It was my pleasure.”
Your nose scrunches at his too-proud inflection, but your attention is soon snatched away when Floyd returns with a notepad and pen.
You flip to a fresh page, curiously clicking your pen. “I’m assuming there’s a system for taking orders?”
“Precisely,” Jade interrupts, smoothly striding between you and Floyd, a hand over his heart. “We use abbreviations when taking orders. It’s quick and convenient. I’ll help you as you go.”
Floyd easily steps around Jade, draping an arm on your shoulder and tugging you against him. Your heart skyrockets into your throat at this newfound closeness. “You’ll get it in no time. S’not difficult at all. And if Shrimpy gets stuck, she’s got me.”
Jade stares at Floyd, a ghost of a frown turning his lips down. “She’ll have both of us,” he corrects coolly. “Azul tasked both of us to train her, after all.”
“Yeah, but you’re just gonna do things by the book. That’s no fun at all.” Floyd spins you to look at him. “You want me to train ya, right? It’ll be more fun that way.”
You lock eyes with Jade over Floyd’s shoulder. Though they’re dulled with emptiness, he smiles and nods encouragingly. “Uh… I mean, of course I want you to train me. But Azul might get angry if I mess up on my first day because I wanted to have fun. Seems a little…irresponsible.”
He’ll definitely count it as my first strike, too. There’s no way I’m risking that.
Floyd pouts, his entire frame melting with disappointment. “Aww. Shrimpy’s lame.”
“There are other ways to have fun, you know.” Swatting his empty insult away, you lower your voice conspiratorially. “We just can’t get caught.”
“Attagirl, now you’re speakin’ my language.”
“Hell yeah! Let’s do this!”
Between the two of them, Floyd actually proves his worth—more so than Jade. He must be on top of his game today, you realize as he points out various numbering systems and abbreviations, casually correcting you when it’s necessary. You wonder how he can remember all of this, but when he puts his mind to a task he can accomplish anything. You’re content to listen and follow along, striving for perfection even though you know that means nothing to Floyd.
Jade keeps his distance, tending to nearby tables when he’s not needed. He’s quiet today, more so than usual, but you don’t have any time to dissect this observation and what it means. The lunch rush is a whirlwind; students filter in with their cravings, piling into booths and tables, and soon the lounge is resembling a noisy sardine tin. The rowdy energy keeps you alert, has you flitting from table to table with a pep in your step. Every group you’ve tended to, with Floyd standing at your side as your lifeline, has shrunk away at the sight of him. He flashes them friendly grins, but to everyone else they probably look menacing.
You’re relieved he’s here. His presence gives you some special sort of invincibility against ignorant customers who may have been itching to heckle you on your first day. And no one would dare try anything with Floyd prowling so closely.
“Thank you for your order! It’ll be up shortly,” you say, offering the table a trademark customer service smile. You turn on your heel, intending to beeline for the kitchen to notify the chefs of another order, when you walk right into Floyd. “Oh, sorry! Do you need something, Floyd?”
Pinching the order slip between two nimble fingers, he tears it from the notebook and beams. “I’ll take care of this. You do the next one by yourself. Table six.” Before you can object, he pats you on the shoulder and skips off. “Countin’ on ya, Shrimpy!”
Aw. I’ll miss you, you think with a dejected pout, spinning to locate the table in question. The pout immediately twists up into a smile when you spot three familiar faces, and you hurry over to meet them.
“Hey, guys, fancy seeing you here!”
Ace, Deuce, and Grim all turn to look at you, their faces brightening considerably at your arrival.
“(Name), hey! How’s your first shift going?” Deuce asks.
“Think ya could slide us some extras free of charge?” Grim tries, patting the menu with his paw. “The Great Grim ain’t gonna say no to free eats!”
“Now that sounds good. What do ya think, (Name)? Think you could hook us up?” With a smirk, Ace leans back into the cushioned booth and pantomimes locking his lips and tossing an invisible key. “We won’t tell if you won’t.”
You roll your eyes, hands situated on your hips. “First of all, no, I can’t do that even if I wanted to. Secondly, if you’re just here to beg for free food, the door’s over there.”
“Don’t listen to them,” Deuce cuts in, shooting them a look. “They’re just thinking with their stomachs. We’re paying customers like everyone else, so please just treat us like that.”
Ace tuts. “You wouldn’t even do something nice for your best buds? That’s harsh, man. I thought we had something.”
“We do and it’s called friendship. But not the kind of friendship where I steal from my job just to feed you. Besides, you get tons of free snacks every time you hang out at Ramshackle. If anything, you ought to do something nice for me.”
“Can’t I just buy my way out with this award-winning smile of mine? Oh, I know! I’ll teach you a few magic tricks next time we play cards. How’s that sound for payment? Priceless, yeah?”
“Not too bad. All right, I’m in.” You reach over to bump fists with Ace, sealing the verbal deal.
“Hey, I wanna learn! If yer teachin’ my hench-human, I gotta get in on this, too!” Grim nudges Ace, attempting to squeeze past him in the booth to get between him and you.
“Oi, Grim! Sit back down!”
You laugh at the sight while Deuce looks on woefully. He turns to you next. “How’s it going with Floyd? You said you’d have a better chance to see him here, right?”
“Yeah, it’s going surprisingly well! I thought he’d want nothing to do with me at first—because I’d be just another new hire—but he’s been super helpful all day. On top of that, we’re talking more than we usually do. Oh, and he also complimented me! It’s been a great first day.” The more you ramble, the more the color on Deuce’s face drains until he’s as pallid as a ghost. “Uh, Deuce? You good?”
Even Grim and Ace have quieted their quarreling, and now they look on with an obedience that startles you. But then, in spite of his silence, you sense him. Without turning to confirm, you feel around for the ends of his scarf, take hold of both, and tug him down to your height.
“My, my. It seems I’ve been ensnared,” Jade admits, his voice light with laughter.
“It’s rude to lurk, you know,” you advise, craning your head to glare at him. “You’re scaring my honored guests.”
“Am I now?” Rather boldly, he rests his chin on your shoulder to stare down at your friends. The proximity would have been ominous to anyone else—and it certainly is to Ace, Deuce, and Grim—but for you this is nothing new. “I’ve only come to check in. You’re very hard at work making pleasant conversation.”
“It was very pleasant until a certain eel interrupted.”
“Ah, is that so? Pardon my intrusion.”
Releasing his scarf from your hold, you shrug him off. “Little late for insincerity. Anyway, shoo. I was just about to take their orders.”
“I thought I might observe. You seem quite popular with customers and it’s only your first day. I’d like to know what parts of you are so appealing.” Jade detaches himself and slides into the empty space beside you. He smiles, close-eyed and tight-lipped. “Don’t let me hinder you.”
“Ugh. All right, guys, what do you want?”
“Since when are you so buddy-buddy with Jade?” Ace asks instead, sounding genuinely curious despite his growing smirk.
He thinks he’s worked out what’s going on behind the scenes, but he doesn’t even know half of it. A relief, otherwise you’d never hear the end of his teasing. He doesn’t bother to hide it, nor does he whisper his query. If you could shrink him with pure willpower alone, stuff him in a jar, and give it a firm shake, you’d do just that.
“We are not buddy-buddy!” you hiss, clicking your pen impatiently. “Now order, or else I’m leaving your table and never coming back.”
“I dunno…” Deuce winces under the combination of Jade’s inquisitive stare and your mean glower as you wordlessly dare him to continue. “You seem like buds to me.”
“Yeah! (Name) was goin’ on and on about him this morning. Nearly made me deaf with all her loud rantin’! Since the Great Grim’s so all-knowin’ about stuff, I’d say she likes him.”
You catch the grin curling on Jade’s lips and hurry to step in front of him before he can say or do anything that’ll deepen the grave you’ve dug. His hands fall upon your shoulders, holding you still while he leers at your friends.
“Do we truly seem so close?” he asks. A trick question if you’ve ever heard one.
The three of them exchange wary looks before attempting chuckles.
“You know… Actually, I think I’m ready to order now.”
“I mean, closeness can’t really be measured physically like that, right? You kinda have no choice but to be close or…as close as coworkers can get, I guess,” Deuce adds.
“The Great Grim’s gonna be skin and bones by the time you finish yapping! Hurry up and lemme put my order in!”
“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”
You stick your tongue out at them before shifting out of Jade’s grasp, penning their orders one at a time. Once everything has been recorded, you rip the slip from the notepad and pass it to Jade. He peers at it, brows raised.
“Since we’re so close, help me out and make this order.”
“Anything for Shrimpy,” he murmurs with that stupid, sly smile of his. He brushes past you as he departs for the bar.
You just love to play dangerous games, don’t you, Jade Leech? you think, hoping he trips on the way there. (He doesn’t.)
“You sure there’s nothing between you and Jade?” Ace asks once it’s just you. “Nothing at all?”
Your eyes narrow dubiously. “Why? You interested?”
He forces a loud scoff. “As if! Like I’d like you. You’ve probably got all sortsa cooties.”
“Oh, really? I’ll show you cooties. Come here!”
Giggling, you throw yourself into the booth and wrap your arms around Ace to smother him in friendly affection. He fights it halfheartedly, his cheeks flushed pink. Deuce and Grim sit back and enjoy the silliness with wide smirks. You’re near-wrestling with him, the both of you attempting to overpower the other with pokes and pinches. It’s when you spot Floyd emerging from the kitchen, drinks balanced on his tray, that you finally separate yourself from Ace, putting a grand end to your impossible stalemate.
“Now we’ve both got cooties.” You ruffle his hair. He attempts to return the favor, but you take a graceful step away before he can capture you.
“Yeah, yeah. Just you wait. I’ll get you back for this,” he challenges, mischief lacing each syllable. “When you least expect it! That’s an Ace Trappola guarantee!”
“You sure you’re not just gonna forget?” Deuce notes with a smirk, to which Ace glares.
“Just because you said that, I’m gonna remember it for the rest of the month!”
“Good luck,” Grim says with a snicker. “The Great Grim might be inclined to remind you if you offer him some premium tuna…”
“Come off it! Your memory’s even worse! Just look at your last test score!”
“Yours ain’t any better!”
You shake your head, thoroughly amused with their antics. “I’ll see you later, okay? Let’s hang out at Ramshackle tonight!”
Deuce nods and flashes you a kind smile—the type that smooths out all of his rough edges. “Have a good rest of your shift, (Name).”
“Make a difference, tiger,” Ace says with a wink. “Catch ya in the eve.”
“And if they got leftovers at the end of this, bring ’em home for me!”
“You can count on it, guys. And I’m not making any promises, Grim!”
And then you’re slipping into the fray before your always-hungry direbeast friend can protest, darting around the noisy hustle and bustle to get to Floyd. He’s just finished making his rounds when you meet him at the center, the both of you sharing a nod of mutual greeting. Carrying drinks of his own, Jade passes you and you don’t spare him a single glance. You’ve seen and heard enough of him for the day.
“Shrimpy’s pretty good at this,” Floyd remarks as he wraps an arm around you, putting most of his weight on you. You stand proud even though you falter with the added burden. “Didja work in a place like this back in your world?”
You gaze up at him, your face inches from his. Any closer and you could…
Your eyes flick from his eyes to his lips and then back. Floyd watches you, brows raised and body angled directly at you. He’s waiting. Waiting for what, you’re not sure.
“Yeah,” you admit in a single breath, speechless and yet filled to the brim with chatter. “I… I did.”
“Then you got nothin’ to worry about. You’re already doin’ great.”
He leans in even closer, a smile stretching across his face. You can smell his cologne, practically taste him from where you stand. The lounge and its inhabitants seem to fade away, and suddenly it’s just you and your star in a tenebrous space lit only by a single spotlight.
Any closer—mere centimeters—and you could…
Gathering your courage, you force the words out from the crannies in your heart, each one a product of this perfect moment. “Floyd, I’ve always wanted to tell you this. I… I want you to know that I’ve always loved—”
“Your work ethic,” Jade interjects, placing his hands on your and Floyd’s shoulders to separate you. He smiles, irritatingly innocent. “As it happens, table eight needs a server. Why not show off that incredible work ethic right now?”
On second thought, maybe you should shove Jade in the jar. Lock him inside for the rest of his days and turn it into a terrarium trap. The plants can thrive off of his decomposing corpse for all you care—as recompense for being an utter pain.
Floyd shrugs Jade off with a pout. “Yeah, yeah. I see ’em.”
“I’ll race you there,” you challenge before he can lose steam.
That sparks him right back into the groove, and he giggles. “If I win, you gotta tell me that thing you were tryin’ to say, okaaay? No gettin’ out of it. And if you lie, I’ll squeeze the truth outta ya.”
“And if I win, you owe me something sweet!”
“Hee-hee. Shrimpy better run fast then.”
He takes off first. You lag behind long enough to drag Jade down to your face. He tilts his head at you.
“At this rate, he’ll win.”
“Good. Then he’ll finally know how I feel about him, and someone won’t be there to interrupt like the ignorant, asshole eel he is.”
“I only wish to assist you. After all—” he lowers his voice, and the pointed beginnings of his teeth wink at you from under his curved lips— “as per Azul’s condition, kissing and confessions count as Floyd-related distractions, do they not? Are you truly willing to risk striking out on your first day?”
He’s right. You hate that he’s right.
“Shit,” you hiss, releasing him from your hold.
He straightens and struts past you, smooth as a breeze. “If you run now, you may just make it.” And then he’s walking towards your friends’ table, each of their drinks placed upon his tray.
You groan and fall into a frantic run. “Floyd, wait up!”
By some magical miracle, you manage to get to the table before he does. But that’s only because you throw yourself at it with a force so shocking and desperate that it stuns both Floyd and the students sitting there. A twinge of humiliation pricks your heart when you draw away from the table, smiling sheepishly. Floyd’s raucous laughter permeates the air, and his hand claps down on your shoulder.
“Musta been a real good secret if Shrimpy’s so determined to keep quiet about it.”
“Y-Yeah, something like that…”
Thank goodness I made it. Just what was I thinking, getting swept up in the moment? There’s no way I can confess in the middle of the lounge when it’s so busy! That would make for such a lame confession. You dig your notepad and pen from your pocket, exhaling in relief. I guess I owe Jade some thanks. He saved me from certain doom.
“I’ll figure it out eventually. Don’t hold out on me, kaaay?”
With his looming frame overshadowing you, all you can do is nod. Floyd has always had a tendency to take your breath away—either from anxiety, amazement, or admiration. And he’s so good at it, too.
“Ah. Guess I owe ya somethin’ sweet, yeah?” He digs through his pockets before withdrawing a single candy. Grinning boyishly, he leans in, presses his lips to your cheek with a wet-sounding smack, and then slides the treat into your waiting hand. “There. How’s that for sweet?”
Your face flares with heat and you grip the lollipop in a tighter fist, half-expecting it to simply vanish if you loosen your grip. “T-The sweetest…”
“Uh, can we order now?” an impatient Scarabia student asks, a scowl scrawled across his features.
His friends huff in agreement, each unwilling spectators to your and Floyd’s fluffy fawning.
Floyd’s gaze is dark, but his smile is bright—all sharp points. “Sure, sure. Tell Shrimpy your order. It’s her first day, so cut her some slack, else I’m servin’ each of ya a side of squeezin’. On the house.”
The quartet of friends stiffen and give hasty, obedient nods.
You click your pen, swimming through a sea of pure joy. The lollipop is a lucky charm in your pocket. “What can I get for you, gentlemen?”
For the rest of the day you’re in the clouds, clear-headed and weightless.
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Weeks later, on your way out of the lounge, Floyd stops you. His arrival is Grim’s cue to exit, and he trots after Ace and Deuce, who are already so far ahead they’re practically pinpricks. You’re compelled to follow, if only to tell them not to wait up, but then Floyd’s hand is squeezing your shoulder, willing you to look at him.
“Floyd?”
You’re not scheduled to work tonight. In fact, you have no further business with him. Not really. Most of your conversations are held during your shifts, your bond strengthened through mutual employment. You’re not best friends, but you’re something close.
Close enough to see each other outside of work, you think before cringing inwardly. Wait. Friends and classmates do that, too. There’s nothing special about that.
“Why don’tcha stay a while? S’not too busy today.”
“I’d love to, but I’ve kinda got plans. We’re heading back to Ramshackle now if you wanna come.”
“Tempting, but nah.”
You blink at him, unsure of his angle. “Then… I’ll see you around?”
Floyd giggles, tilting his head at you in that cute, curious way. “Okaaay.”
His hand slides away and he stands with his arms folded behind his back. You take a step in the opposite direction before halting.
Floyd was the one who sought me out. Floyd…wants something from me. And we’re finally alone. Why am I trying to walk away from that? Isn’t this what I’ve always wanted?
“Actually—” you start, whirling around, still unsure— “can we hang out?”
“Thought ya’d never ask.”
Floyd strides over to match your gait, grinning down at you. He seizes your hand next, spindly fingers interlocking with yours, and then he’s dragging you down the hall. As if caught up in a current, you allow yourself to be pulled.
“What about your shift?” you ask even though you don’t particularly care.
“They’ll manage. Azul’ll just make Jade do all the work.”
You furrow your brow, stumbling along after him. “That doesn’t seem very fair to Jade.”
“Shrimpy cares a lot about Jade, huh?”
“Not like that,” you say, shaking your head. “No way. Jade and I are just friends.”
“Yeah? Didn’t seem that way yesterday.”
“Yesterday?” You think back on the day’s events and recall the way Jade had slipped past you while you were taking an order, his fingers grazing your arm. Of course, as any smart, sensible person would do, you wound your fist back to reciprocate tenfold, which he’d artfully dodged. Much to your disappointment. “Oh, that. That was…an attempt at a high-five.”
Floyd giggles. “Jade’s not super touchy-feely with lotsa people, but he loooves touchin’ Shrimpy.”
You force yourself to laugh, but it comes out high and brittle. “That’s… Yeah, that’s odd. I wonder why…”
Jade, you asshole eel, you haven’t been discreet at all!
Before you can even think of the many ways in which you can exact revenge the next time you see him, Floyd’s in your face.
“Sooo, what spell didja cast on him? It’s got Jade actin’ all weird.”
“Define weird…”
“He’s stayin’ up super late to cook a buncha stuff. Keeps tryin’ to get these recipes right or somethin’ like that, and he’s bringin’ those purple flowers back from the botanical garden. S’not like him to get so…not like him, y’know?”
“Oh. Um. Uh… I couldn’t begin to explain any of his behavior. Maybe he’s just going through something?”
Floyd shrugs. “Do ya like him?”
“Like is a strong word.”
“So you love him.”
“What? No. We’re just friends.”
“So you hate him? That’s cold, Shrimpy. Jade’ll be so sad…”
“I highly doubt that.” You roll your eyes, unable to place real devastation on the face of Jade Leech. For all you know, he could just mask it with his usual simper. “I don’t hate him, but I don’t love him either. I like someone else.”
“Ooh, Shrimpy’s got eyes for another guy? Wonder who it could be.” Floyd hums, folding his arms behind his head and walking onwards. You skip after him. “Maybe it’s me? Nah. S’probably someone closer than that. Like Crabby, yeah?”
Your heart stumbles in your ribs. I can’t confess. Not now. It’s not perfect. I’m not ready.
“M-My love life is none of your business.”
“Secretive about your special someone? I getcha.” He gazes at you. “Do they know?”
“About my crush? Hard to say. If he does know, he hasn’t said anything yet.”
“Maybe ya just gotta be direct with it. Rip the bandage off. That sorta thing.”
“I want to. I really do. But…” You glance at the tiled floor. “I know he doesn’t feel the same.”
“Don’t assume stuff when ya haven’t even asked the guy.”
“But I’m positive he doesn’t like me! There’s no way he’d like me. I’m…me.”
Floyd huffs as if your self-doubt offends him. “What’s there not to like about ya? You’re great in my book.”
“It’s different. Being great and being loved—it’s not the same if it’s coming from a friend.”
“Says who?”
“Says me.”
“Why can’tcha be great and loved at the same time? Ya don’t gotta get that sorta validation from the guy you like.”
“That’s the problem. I want him to like me! I want that from him.”
“Even if he doesn’t give it to ya, s’not the end of the world.”
Without even realizing it, the two of you have made it to his dorm room. You stare at Floyd, a frown flickering on your face.
“I know. I…know. But there’s this part of me that hopes.”
Floyd leans against the wall, arms folded across his chest. “Why’s that?”
“Because he does these things that feel too intimate to be friendly and it seems like he might love me, too. No matter how hard I try, I can’t read his intentions. He’s so loud, but the meaning in all of that noise is quiet. It’s like… Like you’re drowning.”
Floyd stares blankly at you. It occurs to you that drowning may not be the best metaphor to use when explaining these complications to a merman who has never and will never know what such a phenomenon feels like.
“Wait. That came out weird. What am I even saying? Sorry, I sound silly. Just…forget that last part.”
“Sure, sure.” He pushes off from the wall and opens the door. “You ever think about practicin’ on anyone?”
“Like…CPR? To save someone from drowning?”
He gives you a confused look.
This is the worst. I’m not normally this dumb. If Jade was here— You stop that thought before it can form. I don’t need him to hold my hand through an interaction with Floyd. Come on, (Name). You can do this!
“Oh, you meant…” What the hell did he mean? “You’re talking about a confession, right?”
“Yeah, that’s it! You ever think about doin’ that with a friend? Maybe it’ll boost your confidence a li’l. Get ya ready for the real deal.”
“I have…never thought of that. Not once in my life. Nope. Never.”
Floyd ducks inside his room and plops down on a messy bed. You follow, admiring the very obvious divide in space. Jade’s half of the room is clinically clean—every possession organized and stowed away on shelves. Even his desk is spotless. Floyd’s half is chaos stuffed with chaos, entirely in messy disarray. When their differences are made so obvious, it’s almost amusing.
You spot heliotropes tucked away in a simple vase. Floyd wasn’t kidding. Jade really is attached to those flowers. At least they match his room.
“Then practice on me.”
“You… You’re serious?” You turn to look at him. He’s sitting on the edge of his bed, leaning back on his palms.
“Why wouldn’t I be? I wanna help Shrimpy.”
“Um… You don’t have to. It’ll probably sound cringe.”
“Who knows?” He hums, smirking. “You won’t until you do it.”
You weigh your options. Practicing a confession for your crush with your crush… It could be cathartic to say everything you’ve always wanted to say without the worry that often accompanies rejection. You might even feel better afterwards.
“Promise not to laugh?”
“Promise.”
“Really promise. Like, genuinely promise. Please?”
“I really, genuinely promise not to laugh,” he parrots, holding his hand up as if swearing an oath.
You inhale a deep breath, steel your nerves, and squeeze your eyes shut.
“Okay…”
I’ve got this. It’s just a confession. A practice confession.
“I… I like you. For the longest time, I’ve been in love with you and I’ve always wanted to tell you. But… Well, it’s impossible because I never know what to say or whether it’ll be the right thing. Maybe there is no right thing.” You risk opening your eyes and find he’s focused squarely on you. Nervously, you step towards him. “You’re amazing. The coolest guy I’ve ever met. I’m so happy when I’m around you, and when we’re not together I feel like part of me is missing. Maybe that’s kinda dramatic, but it’s the truth. You’re my star. Bright and unique and effortlessly beautiful… I could admire you forever. So… So I just want you to know that…that no matter what happens—even if you don’t feel the same—you mean everything to me, and I’ll always love you.”
Floyd is unusually quiet as he sits there, absorbing your words with a flushed face. And then he reaches to scratch the back of his neck.
You fidget on your feet. “H-How was it?”
“I’m not an expert, but I’d say that was pretty damn good,” he replies with a whistle. Your heart lifts when he beckons you over. “C’mere. There’s somethin’ on your face.”
Now your heart has crash-landed in the pits of your stomach.
“Are you serious?! Why didn’t you tell me before all of that? Aah, I probably looked so stupid!” Your panicked flailing ceases when his hands settle upon your waist, coaxing you closer. “F-Floyd?”
He drags you down to his height and leans in to peck you on the lips, and your heart jumps back up into your throat. Rather than yanking yourself out of his grasp, you merely stare at him. A few seconds later and the embarrassment catches up to you.
“W-Wait… Wait, hold on! What was that for?”
He giggles. “Now it’s all gone.”
He kissed me for real this time…
You swallow rising anxieties and place your hands on his shoulders. “Can… Can I kiss you?”
“S’long as it ain’t gonna change your mind about that other guy, go for it.”
Dummy, you think, besotted. You’re that guy.
Guided by hedonistic desire, you close the distance between the both of you in the same way you once did with Jade. As humiliating as it is to admit, he was marvelous help. If not for him, you might’ve never found yourself here, kissing after a practice confession. You’ll have to thank him later.
Floyd’s lips are soft against your own, and he smiles into the kiss with a gleeful, breathless giggle. His hands are roaming along your hips, and he flops onto his bed without forewarning. You fall with him and inadvertently straddle him, your hands situated on either side of his head. You sputter your disbelief, which is soon cut short when he drags you down to meet his mouth once more. This time it’s all heady passion, more innate instinct than anything. You kiss like you’ll never have another chance, savoring saliva and a duet of sounds made in salacity.
The both of you are left breathless in the aftermath, chests heaving. If this is a dream, you never want to wake.
Floyd smiles up at you, sandwiching your face between large, strong hands. “You gonna kiss your special someone like this?”
“Maybe,” you tease with a wink. “I wonder if he prefers soft, slow kisses or quick, hungry ones… It’s hard to say with his fluctuating moods, and there are just so many ways to kiss.”
Floyd’s smile morphs into something devious, and his hands slide to your arms. You yelp when he flips you and pins you down like you’re nothing more than a portrait on a wall. You’re about to question the sudden change in position when he hoists your legs up and around his waist. He rocks his hips once, slotting himself between your thighs in a way so sensual it has you overheating. Your breath hitches.
“Then we’d better practice all of ’em, yeah?”
You nod, your voice coming out meek. “Y-Yeah…”
“Gimme some hints. I wanna know who this guy is,” he says, removing his scarf and undone tie. His blazer and hat follow suit, abandoned in the piles of dirty laundry spread around on his side of the floor.
You’re so distracted by his methodical undressing that you almost miss his demand. “O-Oh, it’s…not important.”
“It is to me. I wanna know who I’m gonna hafta squeeze for stealin’ Shrimpy’s heart.”
“Is… Is that right?” you mumble, flinching when you spot his erection straining against his slacks.
“Shrimpy’s so cute. I just couldn’t help it,” he answers your unspoken question, each syllable an octave higher with his whimsical laughter. You watch deft hands work to slide the suspenders from his shoulders before moving to unbutton his uniform shirt. You blink and it’s already thrown over his shoulder. You drink his broad build in, brazen in your assessment of chiseled planes cut in charming chiaroscuro. “So who’s the lucky guy? Is it someone I know? Someone from Octavinelle?”
“Um… It’s definitely someone…”
“Course it is. But that ain’t givin’ me any solid clues.”
His hands crawl lower, hovering just above the zip that separates you from his boxers and, additionally, his cock.
It’s actually happening… Floyd wants to do this with me… Is this real? It’s not a dream, right?
With a scintilla of courage, you lift your gaze to his face. “It’s someone from Octavinelle.”
“You sure it ain’t Jade?”
“There are plenty of people in Octavinelle who aren’t Jade.”
“Yeah, but none of ’em are cozyin’ up to ya during work.”
“Jade does not cozy up to me.” Scoffing at the absurdity of it all, you reach to undo the first few buttons on your uniform blouse. Floyd follows your fingers like they’re a laser and he’s a cat entranced. His tongue darts out to wet his lips. “He’s, like, obsessed with his fungi. I think they’re more interesting to him than me.”
Floyd barks out a laugh. “Sounds about right.”
You sit up and pull your blouse from your person. At once, you feel humiliated and it’s not because of the half-nudity. Rather, it’s because the bra you’re wearing is not pretty in the slightest. Had you known you’d be rolling around in bed with Floyd, you’d have chosen something with more lace—something that’s not nearly as bland as the one you’re currently sporting.
“Well, if it ain’t Jade, who is it?”
“Guess.”
He pouts. “Shrimpy’s not bein’ very nice, makin’ me guess. You think I got every small fry’s name memorized?”
You choke on your retort when he palms you. “I… I’ll describe him.”
“Go on. I’m listenin’.” As he says this, he undoes the button on your pants, sliding them from your legs like he’s unwrapping a gift. You’re relieved your panties are, at the very least, cuter than your bra. “Don’t let me stop ya.”
“Okay… Where do I start? He’s handsome and has an unusual sense of humor, but it’s fun because he’s genuine with it. He can be a little frightening at times, but he’s never scared me. He’s so kind and he has the oddest reasons for why he does things, but he never lies about any of it.”
“Sounds like a decent guy.”
“He’s so much more than that!”
Floyd giggles and reaches for your bra next, yanking it up to free your breasts. You feel yourself getting warmer with every second he spends staring.
“It’s not Azul, is it?”
It’s a completely reasonable guess—not funny at all—but you laugh. “No.”
Floyd huffs. “C’mon, Shrimpy, you’re wringin’ me out here. Who is it?”
He moves to toy with your chest, but you pull him down instead. He’s so close you’re breathing him in like he’s new perfume. “Aren’t we supposed to practice kissing? Can’t do much of that if we’re talking.”
“Guess not.”
He seals the distance then, pinning you with his body. The hand that had previously been between your thighs slithers up to squeeze your breasts. He pinches and rolls your perky nipple in an effort to elicit all kinds of explicit sounds from the depths of your throat. Floyd’s tongue flashes into your mouth and you submit without struggle, allowing your own tongue to twine around his. Your hands roam without much foresight for where they’ll inevitably end up, fingers pressing into hard lines and well-toned musculature. You settle for looping your arms around his neck as you melt into him, sighing sweetly.
When he parts, you scramble to bring him back. “Floyd—”
“‘m not goin’ anywhere,” he promises, pressing his forehead to yours. He speaks softer next, as if fearing you might shove him away and flee. “You want this, right?”
“I do. More than anything.”
“You sure it ain’t gonna mess things up with you and your special someone?”
“I…” You purse your lips.
Is now a good time? It must be. It has to be! But…
“You don’t gotta tell me. Lemme know if you change your mind. I’ll stop,” he says, burying his face between your tits. Your fingers dig into his scalp and he groans when you yank fistfuls of his hair. His breath fans across your bare skin, sending pleasant shivers through your spine all the way to your toes.
You gaze at the ceiling, heart hammering relentlessly. “Thanks.”
“Mhmmm. Don’t mention it.”
Floyd peppers your chest with kisses as if it’s an empty canvas in need of affectionate paint. One hand continues to treat your nipple as if it’s his own personal stress toy while his mouth gravitates towards your other untouched bud. It hardens with his deliberate ministrations, his tongue tracing salacious circles. You gasp when the serrated points of his teeth tease your sensitive flesh next.
“Please—” it comes out reedy and raw— “Floyd, please bite me…”
“You suuure?” he asks even though the question is more playful than serious. His fingers find your panties next, hooking around the waistband to slide them down.
“I’m so sure—very sure! Please!”
You feel his amusement reverberate through you in waves when he chuckles. He tweaks your nipple harshly, and a sharp, stuttering moan slips from your parted lips. Floyd’s mouth comes off of your other nipple with a wet pop and he licks his way up to your collarbone.
“I want Shrimpy to forget all about that other guy. Only think about me right now.”
Buoyant with bliss, you hum your acquiescence. Every part of you burns with a desire so redoubtable it could be a manifestation of its own, tangible and malleable. Shaped for sex, splayed on Floyd’s mattress, entirely in the moment. You’re at his mercy, your pulse in his maw, and it’s everything.
His bite incites primal jouissance, fierce and predatory. It’s deep enough to break skin and sting, and you respond to the pleasure-pain with a keening cry. Your fingers curl into his hair to ground yourself while blood pools to the surface. Floyd’s tongue laps at the puncture. Crimson trickles from the mark when he pulls back to observe his work, his jaw stained red.
And Great Seven does he look attractive in the most agrestal, ruddy way.
He licks his lips clean, satisfaction shimmering in those enchanting eyes of his. Now that you’re looking at them, you’ve never realized just how splendid they truly are. Gold and olive-brown cut sharp, upward-angled sockets into his skull. He’s a work of art—your Galatea brought to life.
Before you can spend any more time studying him, Floyd presses two fingers against your mouth. You open wide to receive his digits, senselessly running your tongue over them without command. He giggles at this, reaching deeper until you’re choking.
“Not nice!” you exclaim after he’s pulled his hand away, his fingers coated in your saliva.
“Hee-hee. Sorry, Shrimpy.”
Remorseless. You love him.
Your moans are hissed through grit teeth when his fingers drag along your folds, just barely slipping in to sample the warmth within. You pull Floyd in for another sloppy kiss, licking into his mouth with senseless fervor and grinding down onto his hand to chase a far-off, budding climax. Floyd’s thumb glides along your clit, pushing your hood up to reveal the pert nub beneath. He sinks his slender fingers in then, two of them pushing through gummy walls without resistance. Your eyes roll back into your head when he does this, blissful relief coursing through your bloodstream.
“Oh… Haa—fuck. Thank you.”
“So pretty,” he mumbles, lazily pumping them in and out. “You’re real pretty, you know that? My pretty Shrimpy, all mine.”
“Do you… Do you really mean that?”
“Course I do. What? You don’t think so?”
“Yes—no, I mean… I… No one’s told me that before…”
Not true, your brain interrupts, oh-so-helpfully unearthing the memory despite your attempts to stifle it. Jade did. Jade thinks so.
“They wouldn’t know pretty if she stared ’em in the face.”
“Obviously not.” Your giggle rises in pitch, sounding more like a trembling cry when he curls his fingers. “Ah!”
You banish Jade to the darkest corners of your mind, willing him and his silver-tongued flattery away. Who cares if Jade thought it first? It means the most coming from Floyd.
Floyd’s smile is fond, his eyes soft. “Obviously not,” he echoes in agreement.
He works you open like you’re a blossom preening under sunlight, his fingers plucking expertly at your strings to make you sing. You writhe beneath him, breathing hot and heavy as your stomach ties itself in knots. Floyd peppers your face with a dozen kisses before gravitating towards your neck. His teeth prick your skin in a shallow bite. The mark that’s sucked into your skin next has you hissing through grit teeth. It’s such a simple act—not nearly as pleasurable as the fingers thrust up inside you—but it still draws such a wanton moan from you.
Your eyelids flutter shut, and you sink into an ocean of thoughts, imagining yourself, painted head to toe in love bites of varying severity, standing in front of a mirror to admire each one. Some could be veiled under the confidentiality of clothing, but others would be impossible to cover. Like the ones on your neck, undeniable proof of your thrilling tryst with Floyd.
“Fuck,” he hisses against your skin, needle-thin teeth catching on your shoulder. “Shrimpy’s squeezin’ my fingers suuuper tight.”
“Mm, yeah… I can’t help it. It feels—” you gasp when he presses down against your clit, those dexterous digits working you towards the bright, beautiful end— “aah… Feels so good!”
Even better now that your fantasies have finally bled into reality. You’re floating in and out of ecstasy at the perfect pace, guided by guiltless intimacy. The knots are winding themselves taut, on the verge of snapping, and you feel yourself coming undone—toes curling and lips bitten bloody while euphoria washes over you in ripples.
But then those long fingers are tugged out at once and it leaves your pussy clenching around nothing, your clit aching for attention. Tetchy and unsatisfied, your brows knitted, you lament the interruption. Your body burns and aches for proper stimulation—hungering for a release he’s so cruelly denied you.
“Fuck me. I was so close…”
“Gonna do that in a sec.”
He pulls away to shuck his pants and boxer briefs next. It’s done so fast it’s clumsy; he almost topples over in the rush. Floyd’s about to reclaim his place between your legs, but then he pauses.
“Condom,” he grumbles, a reminder more than a realization.
He leans over you to search for one amidst the junk cluttering his desk. Notwithstanding your better judgment, you grab his arm. He looks at you, and you swallow your inhibitions. Dangerous games will reward you with dangerous prizes. You know this. And yet…
“I… I wanna feel you.”
Floyd doesn’t need to be told twice. Grinning, he feels around, knocking items off in his impatience, before finally grabbing hold of a bottle of lube. He squirts a comfortable amount onto his palm and sits back to run his slick hand up his hard length. You reach down to spread yourself for his viewing pleasure, but instead he snatches your arm and flips you over onto your stomach. The change is so jarring it leaves you reeling.
“Wha—Floyd?” You crane your neck to look at him, but he pushes you back into the pillows.
“Stay there,” he says, but his voice has dropped a few decibels into something thick and husky. “Shrimpy trusts me, yeah?”
“I…do. But I wanted to look at you while—”
“Just trust me on this. I think you’ll like it.”
He rubs his palm against your flank, and you’re horrified by how easily you submit—that that’s all it takes to wheedle you into absolute obedience. With the blood rushing in your ears and your body vibrating with nervous excitement, you prop yourself on your hands and knees.
“Lemme know if it’s too much.”
“It’s okay. I can take it. Please… I’ve wanted this for so long, Floyd.”
“I can tell,” he teases, stuffing two fingers inside to open you up. The slick squelch that follows is obscene in the best way. “Shrimpy’s drownin’ my fingers. S’like an ocean.”
You bury your face in the sheets, flustered. “S-Sorry…”
“Nothin’ wrong with it. I’ve been wantin’ ya, too.” To prove this point, he seizes your hips and tugs you towards his waiting cock. It throbs against your bare cunt, and it’s so much more lewd without a rubber preventing you from feeling every prominent vein and thick inch. “I’ve always wanted you, but you never saw me.”
“You have? Do you really mean that or—”
Your question is promptly punched out of you when the fleshy head of his cock prods at your pussy, gradually pushing through rings of muscle. Inches are swallowed in slow seconds, and you suck in a sharp breath as his girth fills you. Floyd seems just as affected by the sheer bliss provided by your joined bodies, grunting behind you while your velvety heat wraps snugly around his cock. His fingers dig into your hips. Much like the stretch, it doesn’t hurt nearly as much as you imagined it might. It’s only awkward for the first few seconds, in which you and Floyd are both adjusting to every addictive sensation all at once.
“All good?”
You hum your approval, your head spinning. He’s inside me… And it’s not a dream.
“W-What about you?”
“Never been better,” he answers with a delirious cackle. “S’nice and soft inside. Cozy.”
He moves casually, experimental for all of one minute, before he draws back and snaps forwards. You’re pressed into the mattress when he bottoms out, the breath knocked out of your lungs in one fell swoop. Shakily, you force yourself back onto your arms. You don’t stay upright for very long, though, because the pace he adopts is brutal and unabating. As if he’s waited forever for this moment. As if you might never come back if he doesn’t pound you into the bed right now.
As if the world beyond his room is crumbling to pieces and this will be the only time either of you will ever have to love one another in solitude before horrible, heart-wrenching destruction.
A confession is so far from your mind with every sinful slap of skin on skin, and any coherent words you may have hoped to produce are replaced with loud love cries. When you fantasized about rolling around in bed with Floyd, you often imagined something soft and slow—a passionate build-up to inevitable climax. But this is nothing like that. This is raw and filthy and fast. And it’s so much better than the delusional masquerade you entertained with the phony Floyd.
Why did I ever rely on Jade in the first place? you think absently, clutching the sheets in curled fists. Floyd continues to fuck into you with reckless abandon, hunched over you as if you’re a prisoner groveling for mercy and he’s your beloved executioner.
Only rather than clean, cutthroat slaughter, you’re granted love in loads. It’s physical and sweaty and sticky. It has tears brimming your lash line and blurring your vision each time he hits all the right spots. It takes all of the complicated feelings you experienced while navigating an impossible situationship with Jade and dissolves them into nothing. Because with Jade it was wrong. It was a foolish, fickle farce. One too many meaningless trysts. A dangerous game spiraling out of control.
But with Floyd it’s right. Your world, once so off-kilter, corrects itself when he pins you down with his body, warm and toned and rough, and spears you with his cock. He’s your sweet Floyd, capriciousness and all, perfect in a way you just can’t explain.
And so you surrender to rising euphoria, strung along like fresh linens billowing in a breeze.
Amidst your own moans, Floyd’s groans, and the noisy plap of his hips against your soft ass, you make a mental note to end your arrangement with Jade at your earliest convenience. After all, you don’t need the fake when you have the real one.
I’ll miss his cooking, though.
“Whatcha thinkin’ about, Shrimpy?”
“No one in particul—aah!”
Floyd pinches your thigh good-naturedly. “No one at all?” His hand sweeps across your stomach next, palming the area as if he’s trying to feel himself buried in your guts. “You thinkin’ about that guy you like?”
“What if I was?”
“A damn shame for him,” he says, his hips stuttering to a halt. His hands make their rounds along your body, touring every inch of your nudity. You can’t see his face, but you can feel his searing gaze. “That guy’s not inside ya, is he?”
“Not physically, no.”
“What? Is he livin’ rent-free in Shrimpy’s head or somethin’?”
“Maybe. Maybe not.”
“Tell him to get lost. I wanna live up there.”
You giggle. “Will you pay rent?”
“Course I will.” He resumes his pace after a moment, albeit at a lazy, back-and-forth drag. You whine like a whore in heat, craving more than a slow, steady filling. “Bet that other guy isn’t even all that. Not a good rent-payer like me. Suuuper irresponsible and stuff. Late on his payments, y’know?”
“Mm, he’s perfect. Everything and more,” you mumble, your thoughts scrambled like eggs. It’s Jade you picture with your next admission even though you mean to describe Floyd. “He’s actually so charming once you—ooh—get to—haa—get to know him… He annoys me, but I don’t mind it.”
“Yeah?”
He grips your hips tighter, lifts your ass higher, and drives home in one rough thrust. His hold on you prevents you from crumpling, his fingers digging deep and leaving crescent-shaped indents in their wake. Your lashes flutter, eyes on the verge of rolling back into your skull.
“Mhm…”
“Hee-hee. Shrimpy’s so cute, falling apart on my dick… Bet that guy can’t do all of this.”
“Not at all! He can’t compare to you.”
Even though you don’t intend to, you envision Jade’s rictus grin then—the one he’d given you that night in the lounge kitchen when you challenged him to a dance. He’s so strange, but it’s a fun sort of strange. A strange that keeps you on edge, teetering on a precarious peak. He’s a deep-sea predator beneath that human veneer, cunning and crafty in spades, and he kissed you like he was in love that night.
It’s not love. It’s purely convenience, you remind yourself, stern. You like Floyd, and Jade isn’t Floyd.
“Jade—” you start to say, only to save yourself at the last minute— “Is… Mm—aah… Is Jade gonna be back soon?”
“Nah. S’just me and Shrimpy today.”
Shame sparks in your chest. What am I doing, calling out for Jade when Floyd’s here? I must be going crazy. I need to break it off as soon as possible.
You’ve been infatuated with Floyd for over a year now. One year of loyally loving Floyd. Not Jade. It’s never been and will never be Jade.
Chasing those conflictions away, you crawl out of your head to focus on the present. You push back against Floyd’s hips with bolstered determination, boring down on his dick to meet each of his wild thrusts. Within minutes, he’s all you can think of, flooding your brain like a tsunami. You’ve never felt so full and whole before—so connected. Carnal lust or romantic attraction aside, it doesn’t matter right now. Not when you’re swimming in bliss. Not when your emptiness has finally been filled.
All those tireless months of pining and hoping—it’s as if all of that was worth it when your wishes are granted in this very room. Even if you feel just somewhat clumsy with your movements, your body acting on its own accord, you’re relishing every second, sound, and sensation. So much so that you’re crying beneath him, overwhelmed beyond belief. Distantly, you hear him cooing at you, his voice a pleasant rumble.
You never want to come down from this seventh heaven, and you won’t because every moment spent with Floyd is utter rapture.
Floyd fucks you within an inch of unconsciousness, battering your slick, sensitive cunt like he intends to incapacitate you. The bedroom is filled with a sinful symphony of sounds, a litany of filth so loud you’re certain it can be heard down the hall. But that’s the last thing on your mind when the bundled feeling in your lower abdomen becomes unbearable, tightly wound and knotted. You strangle the sheets in shaking fists, tears falling freely.
And then, after leaning over you and getting as close as he possibly can, he wraps his hands around your neck. You startle.
“W-What’s wrong?”
“You sure there’s nothing between you and Jade?”
“Wha—no! Of course not! We’re just friends.”
“I dunno…” His fingers flex and curl inwards to apply just a little pressure. Your body stiffens, but it’s your pussy that betrays you when it clenches involuntarily. Floyd shudders against you, inhaling deeply. “You’re always smellin’ like him. Your pretty perfumes don’t do a good job coverin’ it up.”
You groan, not in the mood for this conversation. “Seriously… What is with you and smells? I’ve always smelled like me, haven’t I?”
“Can’t help it if us morays have a killer sense of smell.”
“Is it really that bothersome?”
“Would be if this was the sea.” He grips your throat with more force. Not enough to hurt you, but it has your heart spiking up into your mouth. “Guess on land it’s kinda like if you saw your special someone with another person and they were wearin’ the same shirt.”
You picture it then: Floyd with someone who isn’t you.
“Oh.”
“Yeaaah. Sucks, doesn’t it?”
“Then—” you’re cut off when his hands constrict, perilous like pythons— “Floyd—”
“Say you wanna smell like me instead. I’ll make you smell real nice.”
His phrasing doesn’t indicate there’s a choice in this matter, but you don’t need to waste time deliberating. Even though you don’t intend to stall, you can’t stop yourself. The question that’s been nagging at you ever since Jade shared insight on the matter—it tumbles free.
“What does smell mean to a moray? Is it—it’s like a tracker, right?”
“You’re halfway there, yeah.” His hips connect with your cushy ass, and his grip cuts into your airflow. The muscles in your neck twitch beneath his fingertips, survival instincts seizing hold. Your breath rattles in your lungs. “S’like makin’ it known. Like tellin’ everyone you’re together. Becomin’ a pair’s real special in the sea.”
A pair…
You want to ask about the significance in that statement—about the implications of togetherness and how that might apply to merfolk. Jade gave you glimpses during previous conversations, and ever since you’ve been wrangling with wanting to know more or keeping your curiosity to yourself. You could ask him, but you’re very acquainted with his smart mouth and his proclivity for stirring up unnecessary trouble. It’s better to hear it from Floyd.
But right now breathing is imperative.
“I want—need you… P-Please,” you rasp, blinking back tears.
It doesn’t hurt, but the pressure fills your head with fuzz. Combined with the agonizing drag of his dick within your walls, it feels almost freeing. Like he’s just pulled you out of your own mind to rejoice in the present with you.
“Promise you’ll be mine. Promise…” His voice wavers, and suddenly he sounds distraught. Fragile like an eroding sandcastle, he adds, “Promise you won’t look at him ever again…”
“I’m yours. I’m all yours.”
His hands linger for a moment longer before he releases you, content with your agreement. You inhale mouthfuls of precious, much-needed oxygen, but part of you misses the rough treatment and the feeling of his hands tightening around your throat. The idea that Floyd once held your life between his palms—that he could crush your windpipe if he so pleased—is monstrously minacious. You know you shouldn’t put your trust in Floyd’s capricious, hair-trigger behaviors, but you’ve already disregarded the risks. Safe sex be damned; you want to know love under the pressure of his thumbs, squeezed into you like he’s your only other source of air. Your savior and your star—forever your Floyd.
His lips replace his hands, stamped impatiently into your nape in bloody bites. Ribbons of warmth trickle between your shoulder blades. His hips don’t halt for a second, and it stokes the fire deep within your belly with potent insistence.
“F-Floyd, please—I’m close! I—”
“I know, Shrimpy. I gotcha.” He rubs your hip encouragingly and that’s all it takes to sweep you up in the titillating throes.
You reach your summit in the clouds with an erotic shout, your vision whiting out and arms going slack. Floyd’s groan sounds much the same when your walls clench down, and he fucks you through it mercilessly. In just a few more erratic, sloppy thrusts, in which he drives his cock as far as it can possibly go, Floyd finally empties his load deep inside. The moan that rips free from his throat is so guttural it’s nearly a growl.
You’re both so drenched in sweat, but you’re alive and vibrating with giddy, sex-drunk relief.
I love you so much, you think as you ebb away from ecstasy, pulled back like the tide.
Basking in the paradisiacal afterglow of orgasm, Floyd runs a hand through disheveled teal locks. The two of you, the sodden sheets, and even the room reeks of sex. His other hand holds you in place while he slowly ruts into you from behind, riding out the buzz in its entirety. His pelvis presses against your ass while you, knock-kneed and fucked full, drool into the pillows.
And when he slides out his spend drips from your pussy in pearly rivulets.
“Haa… Shrimpy’s the best,” he murmurs with a wicked, wild, wide-eyed smile.
You’re still panting when you come back to yourself, your head pressed into the pillow. Floyd nudges you over onto your back, and you oblige with minimal effort, lying in an exhausted sprawl. Your sight clears, color spilling in through bleary cracks.
He leans over you, assessing your hazy expression with a pleased hum. “Welcome back.”
You giggle and beckon him closer. “I’m back.”
Floyd leans down to kiss you and you reciprocate just as fiercely, your arms looping around his neck. You fall all over again, enchanted by molten kisses and wandering hands. The magic dissipates when your ringtone resounds, and you manage to tear yourself away by the third chime.
“Sorry. Let me silence it.”
“Kaaay.”
Floyd lounges on his side, the duvet draped across his hips. You crawl out of his arms to sort through the disorder on the floor. As you bend over to retrieve it, you catch him staring, his eyes following the length of your legs to the mess spattered between your thighs.
He flashes his sharp teeth at you in a broad, nonchalant grin. “It’s a pretty ass. I like what I like.”
You hold your phone up, smirking. “Pictures last longer.”
“And memories don’t, so you’d better stop by often so I won’t forget.”
“It’s a promise,” you tease, glancing at the screen as it brightens with a slew of missed messages. They’re all from Ace, and you scroll through them with mild interest. Apparently, Ace got into an argument with Grim over the pudding in the fridge. Both want it even though it has your name on it, and now Ace is being much too flattering in an effort to curry favor so that you’ll be inclined to let him have it. “He’s unbelievable…”
“Who is?”
“Ace.”
You sit on the edge of Floyd’s bed. He reads the texts over your shoulder and snorts. “Crabby tryin’ to get on your good side, huh?”
“Not sure why he’s bothering to ask, though. He steals food from me all the time. This shouldn’t be any different.”
“Maybe he likes ya.”
“As if. We’re just friends.”
“Yeah? You say that a lot.”
You crane your neck to look at him. “Do I really?”
“Mhm. If you and Jade are also ‘just friends,’ what does that make me and you?”
“I… Um. Hm.”
You watch your reflection on your darkened phone screen as it twists into something pensive. Tentatively, your fingers trace over the smooth glass. What are you and Floyd? You’re friends, but you’re also more than that. Surely, right? Friends don’t join their bodies in unholy communion. Or do they? That’s what you’ve done with Jade and you’re nowhere near romantically attached. Perhaps your relationship is some nebulous stage between friends and lovers?
Does Floyd even like me like that, or was this just a spur-of-the-moment fling?
“I…should go,” you say instead, standing up.
“Aww. But ya just got here. C’mon. Lemme get ya some water or somethin’ to eat. There’s no rush.” He reaches out for you, but you step back. His face falls. “Shrimpy…”
“Sorry. I just—it’s not your fault.” You refuse to meet his eyes as you collect your clothes from the floor, hurrying to dress yourself. “Thanks for the offer. Really, I appreciate it and this was a lot of fun. But I… I need to get back to make sure Ace and Grim don’t tear each other apart over a single cup of pudding.”
The fresh bites on your neck sting when your clothes brush against them, but nothing hurts more than Floyd’s downcast expression. You don’t want to leave, but you can’t stay and tiptoe around the answer to a question you’ve just started contemplating.
“We’ll talk later. Sorry…” You shuffle towards the door, tongue-tied and awkward. “I really did enjoy this.”
To your disappointment, Floyd doesn’t make any attempt to pursue. “See ya.”
“Yeah… See ya.”
You step out into the hall, the door shutting after you. The weight of it all comes crashing down like a disastrous surge of sea and you drag your hands over your face to stifle your regretful groan.
I messed up. I should’ve just confessed. The opportunity was right there, so why didn’t I? Why can’t I? What the hell is holding me back?
No, not a what. Rather, a who.
And you can’t bear to confront that.
Behind the door, sitting upright on Floyd’s bed, Jade musses his hair until that stray dark strand falls in its rightful place. There’s laundry to be done, and a clever cover-up must be fashioned to protect what already seems like an open secret. But right now he can’t be bothered to spring into action. Not when he’s still steeping in post-sex exhilaration, a corybantic smile etching itself onto his face.
It’s a glorious day.
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“Can’t ya just dump it out if ya don’t wanna drink it?” Grim, who has spent the past three minutes observing you observing the glass vial, suggests with a harrumph. “Looks fishy. I don’t wanna drink it and I love drinkin’ stuff!”
You frown and lift it towards the window; the sun catches off the shiny surface, but its rays don’t break through murky cerulean. “Azul said I could add any part of myself to this and it would work. I added saliva, but the color went from white to this icky, impenetrable blue. It probably tastes just as bad as it looks. Gross! Now I’m not so sure I wanna uphold my end of our deal.”
“He’ll never know if you give it the slip.”
You fix Grim with a disapproving glower. “He’ll definitely know. He’s Azul.”
“I dunno what to tell ya, but if we keep chattin’ away like this we’ll miss first bell.” He hops off of the stool, lands perfectly on all fours, and struts out of the kitchen.
“Since when were you such a star student? Wait… First bell?” You gasp and dash past him. “Move, Grim! I’ll miss Floyd if I don’t hurry!”
On your way out, you tug your shoes on, taking care not to trip in your haste, and stuff the vial in your pocket.
“Jeez! Way to be a ‘star student’ and leave me to haul our heavy textbooks to Trein’s class!”
“Sorry! I’ll make it up to you at lunch! This is really important!” you call out, hurrying down the steps.
You’re breathless by the time you make it into the main building, taking in great gulps of air. A few students turn and stare, but you don’t pay them any mind as you weave through the crowded halls in search of Floyd’s classroom. You spot him then, lingering at the end of the corridor, and you hasten your gait to reach him.
“Floyd, oh, there you are! I need to talk to you. It’s about—”
“A good morning to you, too, (Name).”
Horrified, you come to a screeching halt. “Jade… Shit, I’m sorry. I thought that you—I mean, you look like Floyd from afar… Well, of course you do. What am I saying?” Inhaling a deep breath, you try again. “I don’t have time to talk. I gotta find Floyd. Also, our deal’s off. You don’t have to act like him anymore.”
“Oh my. How sudden. I wonder what brought this on.” He smiles behind a gloved fist. “Do enlighten me.”
Fidgeting from foot to foot, you glance left and right. “Look, I appreciate everything you’ve done. You’ve been a big help, but I’ve figured it out now. It was stupid and inconsiderate of me to make you pretend to be someone you’re not. So the game’s over. We can go our separate ways and all of this—” you gesture between him and you— “will be behind us. Done and dusted. Dead and buried. Part of the past.”
Jade tilts his head, playing clueless for another second before he decides to let it click. “Ah. I suppose this means you intend to confess? In that case, please don’t let me stop you. Floyd’s already left for his class. I doubt he’s gone very far.”
You’re already pushing past him, your nerves riddled with hope. “Thanks! See you around!”
“It was an enjoyable month.”
Taking pause, you turn to look at him. Even though his hand is across his chest and he’s issuing you a cordial smile, you can’t tell if he’s being truthful. It can’t have been all that enjoyable to play such an elaborate part. Or perhaps it’s not the part but rather the delights that came with it: dinner, conversation, and companionship. If it weren’t for these unorthodox methods, you and Jade wouldn’t be nearly as close as you are now.
Somehow you’ve become friends in all of this chaos.
“Oh. Uh, yeah. Sure. It was definitely…a month.”
Before awkwardness can balloon between the both of you, you step into a sprint and disappear around the corner. Confidence swells within you. Now that you’ve emptied your mind of Jade, you can focus entirely on Floyd and your very impromptu confession.
There really wasn’t anything there after all, you think as you round another corner. I can’t believe I got worked up over something so silly, and it was completely nonexistent!
As if foretold by fate itself, a meeting strung in the stars, you notice Floyd at the end of the hall. Unable to contain yourself, you run the rest of the way to catch him. The morning bell resounds then and students heed its toll, filing into their respective classrooms. But you’re here for someone who’s so much better than your perfect attendance record, and he happens to be looking your way.
“Hey, it’s Shrimpy! Whatcha up to?”
“Morning, Floyd! Do you have a minute? I was hoping we could talk.”
He nods. “Wasn’t really feelin’ class anyways.”
“Yeah, same here!”
“So what’s up? You have somethin’ to tell me?”
“Right! Yes!”
I have to tell him. I can’t keep running away.
“It’s about that day… Um. I… First of all, I’d like to apologize for being weird and ruining the mood. I didn’t know how to explain our relationship, but I’ve sorted it out now. And if it’s okay with you, I’d like to be more than friends.”
Floyd blinks at you, stone-faced. That can’t be a good sign.
Endeavoring to salvage this one-sided chat, you attempt to elaborate on your previous declaration. “You asked what we were that day and I… I couldn’t give you an answer because I was scared of admitting it, and I had no idea where we’d go from there. The truth is—I really like you. A lot. I have for a while now, and if you like me I wouldn’t mind making it official.”
You’re doing fine, you tell yourself, but you’re wringing your hands and Floyd won’t stop looking at you like you’ve grown fins.
“Oh, I get it,” he says after a long moment. “So Shrimpy likes me? That right?”
You nod. Anxiety squeezes your heart in a fierce fist.
“I’m flattered. Not every day a li’l Shrimpy tells me she’s got a thing for me.” Floyd grins and stuffs his hands in his pockets. You’ve imagined this same scenario a dozen times, but your brain never accounted for how casual he’s acting. “Sorry, but I’m afraid I can’t accept your feelings.”
“W-What?”
You…misheard him, right? He didn’t just say that, did he?
“I think you’re super cool, but that’s it.” He shrugs. “S’better stayin’ friends, ain’t it? ’Sides, you and Jade are pretty close. Not gonna lie, I thought you were a pair this whole time. Didn’t know it was this serious, though.”
Much like the blood pumping through your veins, your heart freezes over. “N-No… No, not at all! Jade and I are just friends.”
“C’mon, Shrimpy. I’m not stupid.”
“I… I don’t understand. Floyd, we… We…” You swallow encroaching tears and bolster the ebbing strength in your voice. “Did our time together mean anything to you?”
“Course it did! Still does. We’re friends. That’s not gonna change.” Floyd cards a hand through his hair and sighs. “Shrimpy, you’re great and all, but if you’re with Jade you don’t gotta lie to me. I’ve been smellin’ him on ya since day one.”
“But we’re not together!” He raises a disbelieving brow, and you groan. “I’m serious. I don’t know why I smell like him. We don’t wear the same perfumes. Wait. Does Jade even wear perfume? I don’t think I’ve ever heard him talk about it. So maybe you’re just smelling my perfume! That has to be the reason—”
Floyd gives your shoulder a consoling squeeze. “I’m not mad or anything. S’cool if you wanna mess around with Jade. I don’t care what you do.” His face darkens with a frown. “Just don’t lie about the obvious.”
“But I’m not lying! We’re not an item or couple—whatever it’s called! I… I like you, Floyd. I always have.”
“Maybe ya shoulda figured that out before ya started lettin’ Jade mark ya.”
Shock and revulsion prickle your skin. You open your mouth to object, but every rational explanation remains jumbled. Floyd issues you a lopsided grin, which adds even more salt to an already gaping wound.
“Hey, if it makes ya feel any better, Jade’s a good guy. He’ll look out for ya. ’Sides, Shrimpy’s better off with a responsible type.” He reaches out to ruffle your hair, but you step away.
All of those times where you thought Floyd may have been courting—the flirty remarks, the perfume, the kiss, and even the sex—were those merely platonic gestures twined with friendly affection? You may have been able to believe the others, but you’re certain there’s a line between platonic and romantic. And sex must fall in the latter category. It has to. If not, was it all just temporary, fleeting fun?
Were you just an experience for Floyd and his mercurial mannerisms? A new toy for his enjoyment, intended to occupy his mind for however long you proved your worth and shelf life.
You turn swiftly on your heel, your throat closing up. “T-Thanks for hearing me out, at least,” you mutter, blinking away hot tears. “I… I’ll see you later.”
If you weren’t so devastated, you’d have commended yourself for your impeccable restraint. You manage to walk away without sparing him a single glance, but the minute you’re out of sight and earshot you’re running through the desolate halls, seeking solace in solitude. The tears come with the ache, a pain so gutting it has you near-wailing as you navigate labyrinthe passages. You hardly care if any straggling students spot you. You’re too crestfallen to fret over what others might think when they look at you.
Heartache headlines your thoughts as you stumble into a stagger, your chest heaving from the run and your excessive bawling.
I know it was stupid to have hope, but I was so positive I had a chance… It seemed that way when we slept together, so what happened? What changed? You wipe furiously at your face, but it does nothing to stop the incessant downpour. This is a mess. I never should’ve confessed. I did everything wrong. And what’s worse is he didn’t take me seriously because he thinks I’m dating his brother!
It doesn’t make any sense, but then this drastic change of heart is so characteristic for Floyd that you struggle to think of any other valid causation.
Did he get bored of me? Am I really that terrible to hang out with? You shake your head. It’s not that. It’s Jade and his stupid scent and that stupid marking and—
You feel the vial in your pocket then, straining against form-fitting fabric. Sniffling weakly, you dig it out and peer at your blotchy-eyed reflection in the glass.
I might as well see what this potion does. I have nothing else to lose, and there’s no way I can go to class looking like this.
As if your body was subconsciously aware of your decision to skip, you find yourself standing in the Mirror Chamber minutes later. Quiet and dimly lit, the room has a certain coldness to it when you venture further inside and approach the Dark Mirror. Your distressed face blinks back at you from the blank surface, and you cringe once you notice the smudges in your makeup.
“I’m such a loser,” you mutter, scrubbing at your cheeks. “Crying like a baby over some guy…”
A guy who meant the world to me. A guy who was so much more than just some guy.
You yank the cork out of the vial and, steeling yourself, chug it in one determined gulp. It goes down bitter, tainting your tongue with a foul, brackish aftertaste. Disgusted, you wipe your lips and stuff the empty glass in your pocket.
“(Name)?”
You whirl, half-expecting to find Floyd waiting to accept you with open arms. Instead, Jade stands in the doorway. His brows are knit in concern. Authentic concern, you realize. Tears overflow at the sight of him, tracking down your cheeks in salty streaks.
“I do hope I’m not intruding.”
“You are. Go away.”
Undeterred, Jade covers the distance to reach you. “My apologies. I couldn’t help but notice you seem to be in dire need of a friend.”
You force out a sardonic laugh. “Right. Because you’re just the friend I want.”
“At the very least, may I offer my condolences? I can only assume the worst after seeing the state you’re in.”
“You just did. Now leave. I don’t want to see anyone right now, especially not you.” But he isn’t offended by the hostility in your voice. Rather, he procures a handkerchief from his uniform pocket and offers it to you. Heaving a defeated groan, you snatch it and blow your nose into the soft linen. “I don’t suppose you want something in return for your kindness?”
“Not at all. If anything, I merely wish to see your happy, dry face.”
You roll your eyes. “I’ll feel much better once you get lost.”
“And leave you to mourn all by your lonesome? I couldn’t possibly.”
You dab at your eyes with the sodden, snotty handkerchief. “It’s not funny.”
“You’re right. It’s not.” Jade smiles and bumps hips with you. “If it’s worth anything, there is so mush-room in my heart for you.”
Your face scrunches with odium. “Ew… That’s so cheesy.” You’re reminded of Floyd when you look at him, and it fills you with another bout of anguish. Why can’t he be Floyd? You bury your face in your hands and sob. “This is the worst! I wanna disappear. Drown in the Coral Sea and get lost forever. Then no one would ever have to see me like this and I’ll never have to face Floyd again.”
“Surely you don’t mean that.”
“I do. Now leave me be. I wanna wallow in peace.” When you fail to hear his shoes clicking against tile, you peek at him through the cracks in your fingers. “It’s hopeless, Jade. Floyd doesn’t feel the same. There’s still no way for me to go home. And now I don’t even know if Azul’s potion is going to work, which means I’ll be breaching our contract!”
“Quite the series of unfortunate events, no?”
“So please just go away.”
Sighing, you press your fingertips to the Dark Mirror’s warped surface and admire the ripples spreading outward from where your palm rests. It’s almost hypnotic, drawing you in with its alluring opacity. You lean closer to inspect the cloudy mirage, placing both hands against it, but that proves to be a grave mistake. Tugged in by some invisible force, you stumble and fall through. You don’t have time to scramble to safety, for there’s a blinding flash of light and then you’re engulfed in smothering silence.
You feel it first—the weightless cradling of waves—and when you open your eyes a stunning seascape greets you. The sandy floor and colorful coral reefs extend in endless stretches. Schools of fish pass overhead in a mosaic of hues. You gape at your mystical surroundings, realize you’re underwater right as the awe settles in, and hurry to swim to the surface. But when you try to kick your legs out, a tail moves instead, sloppily propelling you upwards. You somersault and flail like you’re falling, but you aren’t drowning. In fact, you can breathe.
Whoa. This is so strange. How exactly do I swim?
It takes an awkward minute for you to get a hold of your bearings, but once you do you take stock of your newfound mer anatomy. Your hands are webbed, fingers curling into sleek, sharp claws, and fins protrude from your arms and back. They flutter like fine skirts in the current. Your tail is just as fetching; speckled with red and pink shades, it matches the coloration found on your other fins.
“So that’s what Azul’s potion does,” you mutter, flexing your tail. “Amazing…”
You feel along your body for scales and gills, yelping when your fingers brush over the latter. They’re soft and sensitive, shuddering in the current.
I’m a mer…
It finally sinks in, and you roll around in the sand, whooping and shouting in excitement.
“I’m a mer! How cool is that?!”
You push off from the sea floor, testing your new tail with a few clumsy strokes. Much to your surprise, it doesn’t take very long for you to learn the motions. Within minutes you’re gliding through the water like a bullet. You hug the bottom of the ocean, running your fingers through the sand as you swim expert circles around the same rock formation.
Suddenly, your broken heart doesn’t feel so cumbersome anymore. Your tears mix in pelagic waters, but after touring your vast surroundings for a while you can’t even tell if you’re still crying. While keeping up with the current, you swim past an octopus who drags itself across the sandy floor, its muddy-orange tentacles curling like snakes.
“So pretty,” you whisper, smiling sadly. “I wish Floyd was here…”
It hurts.
There’s no way to circumvent the pain without further opening the emotional lacerations left by rejection and misunderstanding. If you had smelled like yourself, would he have accepted your confession? Would the two of you be walking through the halls, holding hands and chatting like a couple? Or would it have played out the same regardless of Jade’s involvement with you?
If Floyd never loved you to begin with, that would mean all of your practice confessions and subsequent embarrassment were for naught. Maybe Jade was right and this entire thing was nothing more than an amusing spectacle.
Thanks a lot, Jade, you think, seething. Instinctively, you scrub your tears away even though there’s no point to it when you’re surrounded by water. How did I even start smelling like him in the first place? We didn’t wear the same shirt or anything like that… Ugh. Morays are so confusing.
But, gripe and whine as you might, there’s nothing you can do to change an immutable fact: Floyd does not love you.
And it really hurts.
You know the sadness will soon subside and, months later, you’ll look back on this very moment and laugh about your misfortune. Despite that, the passage of time and its healing properties don’t provide an iota of relief.
Don’t think about it anymore. You turn over on your back and float through the water. Since I’m here, I should gather the supplies Azul wanted.
You rack your brain for the list and come up empty. It’s then when you realize Azul never shared this list with you and that, had you visited him prior to your emotional tragedy, he likely would have told you.
“Damn it! Now how am I supposed to get what he wants?” you complain, thrashing your tail as if it’s your legs and you’re trying to throw a tantrum. “I could guess… Or maybe he wants a little of everything?”
You attempt to put yourself in Azul’s head, concentrating on all of the spell ingredients you’ve learned in alchemy class, but none of them seem to fit what Azul might be seeking. After all, anyone can acquire seaweed and shells and mer’s tears. Azul must be after the scarcities of the sea. What those scarcities could be, you haven’t the faintest inkling.
The sea floor slopes down, and you follow the dip towards what looks to be the yawning mouth of an underwater grotto. It certainly looks so with its massive stalactites and stalagmites, which reminds you of the crooked maw of a beast. It would have been a foreboding sight if you came down here with a limited supply of oxygen and scuba fins, but you’re a mer and nothing can startle you. Not even the depths at which you exist.
You poke your head inside the opening. Before you can investigate any further, though, a shadow passes overhead. It slips through the water like a silent assassin. You’re not unnerved when you track the length of the perimeter, looking to and fro for the mysterious figure you caught in your peripheral, but the longer you spend looking the quieter your surroundings become.
The fish scatter.
And then terror descends, only he’s a familiar one. He’d be a sight for sore eyes if he wasn’t such an eyesore.
“You’re living up to your surname.”
He smiles, teeth glinting. “My, my. Aren’t you just tickled pink?”
“Which is weird because all I see is red when I look at you.”
“Is that so? The depth at which we’re at swallows most vibrancy, and yet you remain wonderfully bright. Are you sure you’re not a fallen star?”
You fix him with a nasty glare, but it does nothing to deter him. “Seriously… Why are you here?”
He circles you, his serpentine body winding slowly. “Would you believe me if I told you I came to check on you?”
“Depends. What’s your reason for checking on me?”
“As I’m sure you know, Azul is not partial to insolvency.”
You slide past him, smacking him with your caudal fin. “Good to know I’m so cherished.”
“I wouldn’t dare let a dear friend drown. I’ve heard drowning is very miserable business for humans.”
“More miserable than a broken heart?”
He catches up to you. His size easily overtakes you in length and strength, marking him as a formidable predator. Even with your claws, you can’t compete with his pointed teeth, sleek, sturdy build, and razored fins. He’s a natural hunter, whereas you feel like more of an ornamental fish in comparison.
“Depends. Will you recover from death?”
“I’ve spent so much time with you, so I’d say it’s possible.”
“And I was ready to save you should you find yourself in peril.”
You roll your eyes. “That’s about as comforting as a blatant lie.”
A few beats pass between the both of you. You don’t try to fill the silence, too busy fawning over your aquatic surroundings to bother. Jade analyzes you with furtive glimpses.
“I’m aware our deal is void and that I’m no longer your Floyd…” He swims closer, nudging you with his shoulder. “May I be your Jade instead? You can be my grouper.”
“Your what?”
“Many mages believe transformation potions provide insight into what species you may have been if you weren’t born in your current form.”
“So you’re saying, if I was a mer like you and Floyd, I’d be a…grouper? Is that what I am?”
“A strawberry grouper, to be precise. Very fitting, is it not?”
“Would Floyd like me better if I had been born a grouper instead of a human?”
Jade laughs. You swat at him in flustered retaliation. “It has nothing to do with species.”
“It has everything to do with species,” you snap with a scowl. “Wasn’t the mermaid princess forbidden from pursuing a relationship with her human prince?”
“That’s true, yes. Although I fail to see your point, considering it worked out in the end.”
“What I’m saying is—if we were both mers, maybe it’d be easier.”
“I suppose it would be considerably easier to foster a deeper bond if you lived in the sea alongside us, but I’m afraid love doesn’t always work like that.”
“How would you know?”
Jade gazes heavenward, and for the first time you see sadness in his sharp, intelligent eyes. “I’ve fallen in love with the moon and she is forever out of my reach, so I know what it’s like to wish on something that may never happen. Sometimes I catch myself wondering if the dismal nature of my situation would change if I had been the singular star in her universe. Perhaps then she would finally see me.” He glances at you and attempts a smile. “There are galaxies of stars up there, but the star she fancies happens to shine brighter than me.”
Oh… So he does know what that feels like.
“I’m sorry.”
“Whatever for?”
“I don’t know. I guess it just felt like the right thing to say.” Your shoulders rise in a weak shrug. “The moon is impossible, Jade. Your romance is doomed.”
“All the more reason to appreciate her.”
“Why haven’t you given up?”
Jade swims ahead, humming his contemplation. “There are astounding amounts of everything in this world. There will always be plenty of fish in the sea—just as there will always be plenty of humans on land. But there is only one of her. So even if she doesn’t look at me, even if our romance has been doomed from the start, I will never stop loving her. She’s the only one in my universe.”
“Huh… That’s a beautiful way to put it. If it’ll help, I can act like her and you could practice your confession.”
“We’ve come full circle. Perhaps a confession wouldn’t hurt… Ah. Forgive me for adding to your despondency with my own woes.”
“No, it’s fine. I don’t mind.” But then you reflect on his familiar phrasing and a sneaking suspicion crawls into your head. Unwilling to confront it, you change the subject. “So what’s the real reason you’re here? To watch me struggle to collect all of these unnamed things for Azul?”
“I considered that, but it would be much too cruel of me to subject you to such ridicule.”
“You’re an asshole. Just tell me what I’m supposed to get.”
With a chuckle, Jade rattles off every item. You recognize some of them—pearls, starfish, a Great White’s tooth—but the rest are resources you’ve never even heard of.
“Noctiluca… What’s that?”
“Bioluminescent algae.”
“Oh. Are you sure we’ll be able to find all of this stuff? Some of it sounds, like, super rare.”
“It’s possible. With me as your guide—”
“You’re really going to stick around?”
“And let you swim right into the maw of a predator? I’m not monstrous.”
“You sure you’re not that predator?”
Jade swims ahead, craning his neck to eye you hungrily. His lengthy tail curls around you and squeezes playfully. “Shall I hunt you now and we can determine which of us is the true predator?”
“Don’t ask questions you already know the answer to.”
“It’s simply a hypothetical.”
“Why would we even hunt each other in the first place?” You duck down to sift through the silt for shells or, if you’re lucky, a shark’s tooth. “I thought we had something.”
“Do we?”
It’s too late for you to take that back. “We have mutualism,” you correct yourself, pulling a palm-sized pink conch from the sand.
“Some might call that friendship, (Name).”
“Friends with you? As if. You’d trade me for this shell just because it’s funny.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure. You’re worth more than one, at least.” Jade joins you on the seabed, his larger, webbed hands searching alongside yours. “Your companionship is invaluable to me.” His hand bumps yours in the sand, blackened fingertips twining with yours.
“You know… Floyd told me something.” You grip his hand tightly to prevent him from retreating. With the way he perks up, muscles stretched taut with anticipation, you don’t think he intends to flee. “He said you’re awfully touchy with me and that you’re not usually like this.”
“You provide me with the most entertaining reactions. Besides—” his voice lowers for effect— “was touch not the foundation of our deal?”
“Not anymore.” You release his hand from your hold and dart forwards. “Although I guess it was kinda pointless. All of that just to be rejected by Floyd in the end.” You round on him once he’s within your proximity, prodding his chest with a claw. “Because now he thinks I’m dating you. Apparently I smell like you. I have no idea what that could mean, but it obviously isn’t a good thing if it’s one of the reasons Floyd turned me down.”
“Plenty of mers scent their partners. It’s territorial—a means of proving to others that they’re a bonded pair. It’s also convenient when they need to locate their beloved in a crowd.”
The conch falls from your hands, floating back to its resting place on the sandy floor. Shocked, you pin him with a wide-eyed stare. “You… You’ve been…scenting me?”
He nods.
“On purpose?”
“Just for fun.”
Your jaw drops in disbelief. So Jade sabotaged your chances with Floyd. Jade did. All for fun. Jade was scenting you on the sly. For fun. Fun!
Now you’re really viewing him in scarlet.
“Jade Leech, I’m going to kill you!” You lunge at him, blunt teeth bared and claws out. He opens his arms to receive you, smiling all the while. “You did that on purpose—to prevent me from getting with Floyd! What the fuck?!”
You crash into him, and the impact sends the two of you tumbling through the water in a tangle of limbs. He indulges in this one-sided snafu, albeit without the hostility you’re so clearly demonstrating. Jade wraps himself around you to hold you still while you attempt to gouge his eyes.
Soon, the scrap mellows out into a struggle for escape. You try to slip out of his constrictive grasp, but every time you think you might have attained freedom he tightens his hold on you. Eventually, with no other way out, you submit, deflating in his arms like a popped balloon.
“If you wanted a hug, you could have asked. There’s no need to be so circuitous about it.”
“The last thing I want is a hug from you! Now let go of me!” He allows you to squirm out of his coils. You swim in circles, which you now realize is the mer equivalent of pacing. “I can’t believe you. What did you have to gain from any of this? ‘Just for fun,’ my foot! You just wanted to ruin my life like the stupid, asshole eel you are!”
“I was hoping to cushion you after the inevitable.” Jade tilts his head at you, feigning sympathy. “Did you really think Floyd would have reciprocated? You heard him yourself. He considers you a friend. Nothing more and nothing less.”
“Cushion me? The only thing you did was make me smell like I rolled around in the cushions with you!” You swipe at him, but he moves away on reflex. “If Floyd sees me as a friend, why would he sleep with me?”
“So that’s why our room smelled so thickly of you.”
“Don’t play dumb.”
“Then don’t ask dumb questions.”
He’s the worst, you think, repeating it like a mantra. The worst. The worst. The worst.
But then he’s the only one who chases after you even when you push him away.
At that, you laugh. Jade blinks at you, startled by your sudden shift in attitude.
“This is a mess,” you bewail, shaking your head. “Out of all the people at NRC, I can’t believe you’re the one seeing me like this.”
“How many times has it been now?”
“Shut up.”
Jade chuckles. “You may find it undesirable, but to me it’s quite the charming trait. Even at your worst, tears and all, you’re still yourself. It’s what I admire most about you.” He approaches you, minding the icy vitriol in your scowl, and cups your cheek. “After all, did we not agree to be a mess together?”
You meet his mismatched stare, openly admiring his well-sculpted body and the patterns striped along his arms and tail. There isn’t an ounce of Floyd to his mannerisms. From the way he carries himself to the purr of his voice to the irritating quips he loves to spout, he’s Jade. And you wouldn’t have him any other way. He is your friend, and denial isn’t enough to convince you otherwise of this dysfunctional, disorganized friendship.
Sighing, you tear your gaze away. “We’re a mess, yeah. But that doesn’t mean I’m okay with smelling like you! That’s such a dirty trick!”
“I can be dirtier if it pleases.”
“It does not please! Start counting your blessings so I can properly kick your ass!”
“I wish you luck in that endeavor,” he says, offering you a toothy grin before turning away and propelling himself towards the surface.
You watch him go, debating whether it’s worth it to pursue him. This feels like the beginning of another game, but you can’t calculate the danger level. It’s the ocean; the possibilities are just as vast.
You’re an enigma, Jade Leech. I’ll never understand you.
Leaving all thoughts of Floyd and your shattered heart on land—stowed away in the shadows of the Mirror Chamber—you accept his proposal for a chase. He doesn’t have to tell you he’s pleased when you zip after him, weaving through the tight crevices and openings in hulking rock formations. Your shadow eclipses colorful coral reefs and tall seagrass. Jade moves much smoother and quicker than you, sensing all of the twists and turns before they even come up.
Of course he’d be a natural, you think, impressed with his graceful slither. He grew up in these waters playing tag. He and Floyd have probably chased each other through places just like this one hundreds of times.
Still, you aren’t about to let your inexperience get in the way of capturing him.
Between your on-off hunt and collecting ingredients for Azul, in which Jade goads you into continuing the chase when you least expect it, time passes above. You’re not sure how far into the day you are, as your surroundings hardly change beneath the surface, but you forget all about it when you swim through a kelp forest in hopes of finding a starfish. Even with your heightened mer senses and predatory assets, you keep close to Jade as the both of you glide through strands of kelp.
“When I was an elver, I used to believe starfish were stars who fell from outer space.”
You flinch at the sound of his voice. Everything seems much louder in tranquility. “Oh. Uh. Why’s that?”
“My mother often told us that merfolk who have passed on become stars in the sky and that there are times in which those same stars yearn for the sea. But they can never hope to return naturally, for they are bound to the sky. Thus, they force themselves to fall, lose their shine when they land in the ocean, and become sea stars.”
You keep your eyes glued on the stretching forest ahead. “That’s neat. I probably would’ve believed that story if I was a mer. We tell all kinds of stories about merfolk where I’m from.”
“Is that so?”
“Merfolk don’t exist in my world, so they make for great legends.”
“A world in which merfolk are nonexistent… How fascinating.” Jade gazes at you, his hand twitching towards yours. Rather than acting on his innermost desires, he curls his hand into a fist and it hangs limply at his side. “You must have been over the moon to have met Floyd.”
“And you and Azul!” you add with a smile. “And I have you to thank for teaching me all about moray mers.”
“I’d be happy to teach you more, should you be willing to learn…”
Jade’s looking at your lips next. The both of you are so close. Just a little closer and you could…
“Hey, I think I see a starfish!” You hurry ahead before the tension can become any more magnetizing.
Do not make him your rebound, you lambaste while retrieving the star-shaped creature. If you had legs, you’d kick some sense into yourself. Just because he looks like Floyd doesn’t mean he is Floyd.
You bring the starfish back to Jade, who bottles it in a bubble and whisks it away with a flick of his wrist. You’re not sure where any of these items are going or how he’s keeping track of them, but as long as they’re gathered you aren’t going to question it. Magic works in mysterious ways, or so you’ve determined after spending a year of your life in Twisted Wonderland.
From there, you return to your place at Jade’s side, albeit with a healthier distance than before, and exit the kelp forest. You scan the vast vicinity as if you might find something unusual amidst all of this blue. It reminds you of every Floyd fantasy you’ve ever had—the ones in which you were living happily ever after in the sea. As ideal as those delusions were, you realize now that they were just as impossible as Jade’s infatuation with the moon.
“It wouldn’t have worked anyway,” you admit, to which Jade hums his acknowledgment. “What would I do if Crowley was able to send me home? How could I choose between my loved ones there and my loved ones here?”
“Perhaps you’ll never have to choose.”
“What do you mean?”
“Supposing the headmage is shirking his investigation… Well, that would certainly eliminate the difficulty of choice.”
You laugh. “The first magicless student to graduate from Night Raven College. What a headline.”
“Sensational news,” he adds in a dramatic tone.
“As if the illustrious NRC and the oh-so-kind Headmage couldn’t get any popular.”
Jade chuckles. “Have you thought that far ahead?”
“What? About the future?” You slide into a somersault while Jade swims above you. He stares down at you as you spin yourself dizzy. “Don’t want to. I have no idea where I’ll be after graduation or what I’ll do. It kinda scares me.”
“You’re more than welcome to lean on me should you ever require my assistance.”
“What’s that thing Azul always says? Pay the heavy toll to cross the bridge? I’d like to graduate debt-free, thank you very much.”
“I’ll always be here for you.”
You blink up at him, shocked by his benign declaration. After a moment of floating aimlessly on your back while he swims overheard, you giggle. “Come on. Be real, Jade. That’s impossible.”
“Is it? You’re a mermaid, are you not?”
“Yeah, but that’s temporary. Besides, a deal like that is way too mutualistic. We’d just seem like obligations to one another.”
“Must it be transactional?”
“What else would it be?”
“A friendly favor.”
“I don’t trust that… Somewhere along the line I’ll get trapped in a scam.”
“And I will rescue you.”
You roll your eyes and turn over on your stomach, propelling yourself forwards in hopes of leaving him and this conversation behind. He mirrors your slow pace, twisting himself to loop around so that you’re above and he’s below. He waves. You groan.
He just won’t quit, will he?
“Okay, let’s be hypothetical. Say I accept your help for the future. What would you want in return?”
“What indeed?”
“I doubt you’ll want a lifelong taste-tester.”
He shakes his head, soft, teal locks swaying with the motion. Bathed in dappled light, he looks breathtaking. Too good to be true. An echo of the supernal, enchanting and arresting in that weird, whimsical way you’ve grown to appreciate.
He’s so annoying.
“Then what, Jade? Stop being obtuse.”
He smiles, sharp features softening, and says, “I would like to continue being your friend.”
“That’s all?”
He nods. “That’s all.”
“I find that hard to believe.”
“Well, what do you think I might want?” He reaches for you, his hands running up your arms to tug you closer. “If I asked for your hand, would you give it?”
You float above him, not quite chest to chest yet. “Marital mutualism, huh?”
“It’s cost-effective and comes with many benefits.”
“Like?”
“You could be my taste-tester indefinitely. I would cook for you every day. All of your favorite foods, and you can share your critique.”
“You’re not selling it,” you mutter, impassive.
He pulls you within kissing distance. “You can continue to hone your techniques with me.”
You open your mouth to retort, embarrassment scraping at your throat, but a distant twinkle in the dimming depths distracts you. There’s another flash of light and then, seconds later, dozens of lights surround you. You swim out of his grasp to explore this curiosity, your confusion segueing into excitement once you spy hundreds of bright tendrils. Moon jellyfish illuminate the area, casting you and Jade in bewitching bioluminescence. You whirl to view all of them at once, your eyes wide with wonder.
“It’s amazing…” you whisper.
Jade observes you from where he lurks in the shadows below, a wistful look in his stare. It adds deceptive age to his youthful features, but you don’t notice that. Bold and brave, you venture deeper into the fray, weaving through the fantastical cluster with finesse. The jellyfish hang suspended in the gloom, and they remind you of little lanterns the further you swim. This sight is a treasured rarity—something you’d never be able to experience firsthand like this if you were viewing it through thick aquarium glass.
This view is breathtaking! I can’t believe Jade and Floyd grew up in such a wonderful place.
On any other day, the boundless sea may have terrified you if you were reading about it in a textbook or watching divers’ found footage. But right now you’re in awe of these magnificent creatures as they drift in calm currents. Your first visit in the Coral Sea had been on a strict time crunch, and you hadn’t gotten the chance to explore any further than the grounds of the Atlantica Memorial Museum. The second visit had been one of leisure, if only because you were no longer arranging gambles with Azul in an effort to free the anemones. And now you’ve returned, equipped with fins and the promise of unforgettable sights.
And Jade’s with you.
He was there for your previous times, too, his presence mostly unremarkable. While you were loving Floyd from afar, he was there. You’ve always wondered why he stayed and entertained your mischief. You’re not anyone’s dream girl; you’ve never been the first choice, and that’s a part of life you’ve made peace with.
When you’re with Jade, you’re made the first and last choice. The only choice.
“Jade, are you seeing this? It’s so pretty! You’re—” you turn and almost bump heads. He’s so close and— “glowing…”
“My, my. Is that a bona fide compliment?”
“No. I’m serious. You’re glowing!”
He’s something of an angler with his mesmerizing markings. The patterns on his body are bright with a shocking luminosity, so radiant that you lose all interest in the jellyfish. You’re transfixed by him, and it’s purely instinct when you seize his hands to inspect them. He shrinks away, diffident.
“Ah. So it would seem… Forgive me for outshining the jellyfish.”
Your brows furrow. “You’re being weird.” Releasing him, you orbit him like he’s the sun and you’re a spellbound planet. He continues to pack himself into something small. “Are you not supposed to glow?”
“This is a perfectly normal facet of moray mer behavior.”
“So then what’s up? You’re avoiding me.” It hits you then, and a wide grin cuts into your cheeks. “Are you…embarrassed?”
Jade flushes up to his fins. You didn’t think it was possible, but the intensity at which he glows increases. “I fear I may have underestimated my own biology.”
“This is new! Jade Leech acting shy? I never thought I’d live to see the day.”
He forces a hollow chuckle. “I suppose it was inevitable.”
“What was?”
“This is the culmination of any mer’s attraction.”
Your heart stumbles in your chest. “Wait. Is this—does this mean you…”
“When mers wish to mate or attract a mate, they… Well, to be forthright, we glow. Floyd and I are bioluminescent by nature, but this glow is different. Ah, but that much is now apparent…”
You stare at him in all of his coruscating glory. “You want to mate with…me?”
“If you’ll have me.”
“Oh, you’re serious,” you murmur, breathless. Hesitantly, you approach him. “Then can I—may I take a closer look?”
“Please do as you see fit. Body language can’t possibly get any more candid than this now, can it?”
You giggle. “Seems pretty treacherous, too.”
“To think biological imperative would be my undoing…”
Your hand splays across his bicep, tracing the luminous bands wrapped around it. He really is a magnificent merman.
One more game, you promise yourself, restraint as thin as Jade’s lukewarm lies, and we’ll never play again.
“I like it. This is the most honest you’ve ever been with me.”
“Charming, is it not?”
“Very.”
He gathers you in his arms, and you mold yourself to him like you’ve done so many times in the past. You’re taken to the seafloor next, lowered onto the sand amidst wavering seagrass while he presses his pelvis to yours. You scrabble for a handhold on his broad shoulders, arching up into him when he rocks his hips. His tail winds around yours, and he anchors himself to you at the bottom of the sea. Above you, jellyfish swarm. Bulbous and bright, they backdrop Jade like a velvety void of stars and provide enough spotlight for you to see every inch of him. Although with just how much he shines, you wouldn’t even need the jellyfish.
If anything, they just make this tryst even more quixotic than it already is.
“After this—”
You start to speak, but you’re soon silenced when he fits his lips against yours, viciously venereal. Jade’s tongue slips past your parted lips, tangling around yours in a kiss that lasts far too long. Without the need for oxygen, neither of you separates. You throw your arms around him and kiss like you’re starved. Bubbles rise from your joined mouths, produced between gasps and groans. His teeth click against yours, and after minutes of canoodling you finally manage to yank yourself away.
Jade surges forward for another kiss, but you block him with your hand. “H-Hold on…”
“Is everything all right?”
“What will we be after this?”
“What would you like to be?”
You grab his face in both hands and hold him still. Your thumbs brush the markings stamped into his cheekbones. Jade trills at your touch, gills fluttering. A tiny heartbeat thrums beneath your fingertips.
“I… I’m not sure. Is it worth it to label our—this? Whatever this is?”
“Our mess. How does that sound?” His hand covers yours, pulling it away to hold it. “An exclusive dalliance between two.”
Friends with benefits, you think, every sense delirious. Desire feels hotter and heavier than it’s ever been, a puissant swirling in your stomach. You wonder if the potion altered your brain chemistry in some way—temporarily rewired your human instincts to suit that of a mer’s. That’s way too dangerous.
“And you’ll be yourself. You’ll be Jade, right?”
“I wouldn’t be anyone else, my dearest.”
“Let’s not go too far,” you warn, laughing. “Thin ice.”
“Is ‘my dearest’ not to your liking?” He leans in to bestow a chaste kiss to your throat, nuzzling the area right at the juncture between shoulder and neck. “I find it most fitting.”
“It’s…not the worst thing someone’s called me.”
He draws away, his eyes narrowed. “Not the worst? Others call you by delightful endearments?”
“Hmm? Jealous you’re not first?”
“Quite.” A scary smile curves his lips up. “So I’ll resolve to be the first by ridding myself of those inconsequential barnacles who think it wise to stick to you.”
“Wooow. How fearsome. But I’m just kidding. No one’s called me anything like that before…”
“So I’m the first?” he asks, proudly puffing his chest out.
“Yeah, yeah. Gloat all you want.”
“Gloat I shall. It’s tremendously gratifying to be your first.” Unlike his usual smiles, this one is pure and jubilant. There are no secrets concealed within, nor does he hide his teeth. “How fortunate I am to be here with you. To have met you. To bask in you…”
His eyes flutter shut as he grinds against you with more force, and you hiss out a soft moan when his slit, sticky with slick, slides against yours. Jade sighs, digging his claws into the sand to ground himself above you, and slips into a slow, gentle pace. You study his contorting features as he rubs himself against you, his brows furrowing and mouth dropping open in a tiny ‘o’ shape.
“You’re so sensitive,” you remark, toying with his quivering gills. Your fingers dip inwards to feel the spongy filaments, and he shudders through a low whine.
“Ah, yes… Mm, I suppose…I am.” His yellow eye is alight with lust when he cracks it open to peer at you. “I confess I’ve wanted this for a while.”
You shouldn’t push it any further than you already have, for you know the dangers that accompany the truth. You shouldn’t instill false hope in Jade when he’s already so hopeful, and you definitely shouldn’t play his game when you’re very aware of what waits for you at the end.
You shouldn’t, but you do.
“I can tell. I’ve only touched you here, but you’re already unraveling.”
“Then allow me to return the favor.”
You squeal when his claws drag along your gills, his touch careful despite his intentions. When he looks at you next, it’s as if he’s readying himself to devour you. He curls his fingers like an expert and you writhe beneath him, your lips parting in muted moans. Flustered, you attempt a glare, but it falls short.
“Now we’re a rightful match.”
You giggle between gasps. “Not fair… I don’t know mer anatomy like you do!”
“Would you like an experiential lesson?”
“Is that what we’re going to call this?”
“We could…” Jade moves based on vehement instinct, his hips colliding with yours. You throw your head back when his slit brushes against yours once more. It’s soft and squishy, entirely hairless. “If it were up to me, I’d prefer something far less technical.”
“Coitus isn’t doing it for you?”
He laughs. “I want to become a pair, if only for today, and make love to you.”
“‘Make love’ sounds a little…”
Jade searches your face for the underlying meaning in unspoken words. You try to hold eye contact, but your gaze wanders to the jellyfish above. His sigh draws your attention. “I understand. Making love would imply a romance that has not yet come to fruition.”
Even now, I’m trying to run away, you realize. What am I so afraid of?
Should you yield to his wishes? Should you be impetuous and play another dangerous game? You’ve agonized over similar questions before, weighing right and wrong on your internal scale, and the answer has always remained the same: You shouldn’t, no matter how tempting it may be. Because to play these games, you must be willing to tango with trouble.
I’m the worst at making good decisions and the best at making bad decisions. I really should work on flipping those…
“Just for today,” you concede with a grumble, “we’ll become a pair.”
Whether or not you come to regret it, playing pretend has always been your and Jade’s favorite pastime. That will never change.
“My, my. Aren’t you impressionable?” he jests with a coprophagous grin.
“Just shut up and kiss me, you stupid, asshole eel.”
And he does just that, capturing your lips in a tender kiss that’s all twisting tongues. You melt alongside him like sorbet in the sun, your tails braiding as one. There’s catharsis in crawling out of your head to focus on the present, where it’s just you and Jade in this silent sea of jellyfish. You push rationality and sorrow aside, favoring carnal delights instead, and entangle yourself in another tantalizing tryst. You kiss and bite in equal measure, digging your claws into his shoulders while he marks you, just as ferociously proprietorial.
Your lips are bitten puffy in the aftermath; you taste blood in your mouth, so you lick your lips clean of the substance. You bring him down to bite into his neck, hoping to match your bite with the ones he’s previously left on you, but he stops you.
“Dangerous,” he rasps, rolling his hips until something foreign sprouts between your bodies, the tip prodding at your own slit. You gasp and arch towards him. “Our blood is—mm—it’s not safe…for consumption.”
“Really?” you ask, not believing him for a second.
“Truly. Would I lie about that?”
“Coming from you, yes, you absolutely would.”
“I’m being truthful this time.” You roll your eyes at this time, and he elaborates: “Our blood is harmful to many mammals, especially humans. The tiniest amount could kill you. Even if your teeth may not be sharp enough to pierce my skin and you’re currently a mer, I wouldn’t want to risk it.
“Thought you would.” He raises an eyebrow, so you add, “You love risk.”
“Not if said risk involves endangering you. I care about you, (Name).”
You gaze sidelong at the sprawling seafloor. “R-Right…”
“If you were to ingest even a fraction of my blood, you’d suffer dreadful muscle cramps. I’m certain you value your life to some degree, yes? A bound heart would be most painful. Besides, I’m more fond of the risk with long-term consequences. Risks you neglect to see coming are intoxicating.”
“Yeah, that sounds more like you.” You giggle and run your fingers through his hair. He leans into your touch, rumbling with amusement. “So what are these ‘long-term consequences’ you love so much?”
In reply, he simply smiles.
“You look so creepy!”
You give his hair a punishing tug. That thing that had been poking you earlier—it wriggles free from the slit that once confined it. Jade lifts himself off of you so that you can view it. Thick and tapered, lined with an odd set of nubs, his cock is unlike anything you’ve ever seen before. You react on impulse, curiously wrapping your webbed hand around it. It twitches at the contact, curling into your palm as if seeking a fleshy embrace. You startle, eyes blown wide.
Jade sucks in a sharp breath, his jaw clenched tight. “Well, what do you think?”
“It’s…different. A good type of different!” You stroke him and watch the unique appendage squirm. “So this is it… Interesting. I never would’ve imagined this is what it looks like. And it moves as if it’s got a mind of its own!”
“Haa… I’m pleased to have shocked you.”
“You always do. Now what other tricks do you have in store?”
“Plenty. That I can assure you.”
You wonder if you should fear the implications of the plenty he’s mentioned, but those worries are knocked out of your head when he lowers himself on top of you. His cock slides against your slit. Your heart pumps into overdrive as you anticipate it, your body burning with a new sort of itch. Jade traces two fingers along your lips before spreading them in a slow, deep thrust. You thrash and buck up towards his hand.
“Don’t drag this out… Please, Jade, I want it—”
“How badly?”
You groan. “I hate you. I’m not going to say it.”
“Then you won’t receive it.”
“Please? What happened to friendly favors?”
“That doesn’t apply here.” His smile is so serrated it could slice you. “So I’ll ask once more—how badly do you want it?”
You mumble a desultory reply.
“You’ll have to speak up, my dearest.”
“I want it more than anything.”
“More than what?”
You shoot him a scary scowl. “I’m not saying it.”
“I can wait.” For the sake of being himself, he adds a third finger. It’s not enough, and every digit rests still and shallow inside. You cry out in displeasure. “More than whom, (Name)?”
“You’re so mean! I won’t say it!”
“C’mon, Shrimpy. You can do it…” Your walls flutter around him, and he whistles and withdraws his fingers. “Attagirl. Now say it and I’ll give it to ya.”
I’m going to kill him.
You have more energy to resist, but you’re too impatient to play the long game. So you fall victim to the act just as you have in the past. “Fine! Okay! I want it more than Floyd! I want you more than him. I… I want you inside me. You, Jade. Not Floyd.” With a huff, you add, “There. I said it. Does that satisfy you?”
“Oh, very much so.”
He thumbs at your hips, adjusting himself only slightly so that the tip of his cock is kissing your slit. You pull his ear fins in admonishment.
“Asshole eel.”
“Gorgeous grouper. The prettiest lady I’ve ever seen, even in obscenity,” he murmurs, opening his mouth at you.
Comprehending the message, you gape right back.
Unlike your original body, your mer form doesn’t require much preparation. It’s an odd thing, but when your gummy walls swallow more and more of that peculiar cock as it’s eased in you begin to think you were designed for sex. This form possesses the impossible flexibility you lack as a human, your slit suited to take the monstrosity that is his member even without the foreplay. You steal glances between your joined bodies and Jade’s face as it shifts through the stages of pleasure. He almost collapses on top of you once he’s fully sheathed inside, his grip on you so tight that his claws cut into your skin. The sting is but a whisper amidst the sheer fullness settled within your stomach.
“You—” he bows his head, groaning lowly— “truly are a dream…”
You throw your head back, whining when he hits a certain spot bundled within. You’d marvel at his ability to reach those areas if you weren’t already so overwhelmed with ardor. His movements are sloppy while he pursues the proper pace, filling you like it’s second nature. All you can do is hold on to his shoulders and revel in the sensations of this new body. When his hips connect with yours, it’s as if puzzle pieces click together. As if the two of you were made for this moment and every other one that’s come before it, a perfect combination reaction. As if, rather than Floyd, it was Jade who was meant to fill the cavern in your heart all along.
A dream…
It’s not just your presence that’s comparable to a dream. It’s the situation and the scenery—the players and their motivations who make the dream come alive, even if it’s built on physical attraction and lies. You wouldn’t call yourself an actor, for an actor is able to separate themself from their role, and you wouldn’t view Jade in that way either. You can’t. Not when he’s above you, every bodily, emotional truth on full display.
You’re just yourself, as you’ve always been, and Jade is Jade. There aren’t any roles to act out here at the bottom of the sea. No need for either of you to pretend to be people you’re not. No need for the phony Floyd to play a parody of a love that will never come to florescence.
If you keep saying such heartfelt things, I’ll fall.
You pull Jade down into another hungry kiss, to which he reciprocates with the same ravenous energy. The both of you gasp into the other’s mouth, desperate to reach orgasmic bliss way up in the troposphere. It didn’t seem so in the beginning, but now, when he fucks into you like this is his last day on Earth, it feels right. You’ve never viewed Jade in rose tint. In fact, he was so insignificant in your life that you failed to comprehend his very existence. Your sight often narrowed to encapsulate Floyd, exiling everyone else to your peripheral, and he became less of Jade Leech—his own person with unique hobbies and talents—and more of Floyd’s twin—the body double who could pass as Floyd if you looked at him from the wrong angle.
But now that same Jade Leech, the one you’d thought so little of before, is making love to you beneath a blanket of jellyfish.
Winding yourself around him, you hold firm to keep him pinned on top of you. “Please don’t stop! Please keep go—oh—going,” you plead, eyes rolling back when he does just that.
“As you wish,” he manages through grunts. “I won’t stop until you’ve had your fill—until all you can think of is me.”
“If that’s the c-case—” you dig your fingers into his back— “you—haa—will have to try harder.”
“Oh? And yet you were so easily satisfied when I was Floyd,” he teases, grabbing your hips and driving himself home in deep, riotous strokes. You tamp down a bawdy moan. “Am I not enough?”
“Not that. Different… It’s different when you’re—oh!” Your weak glare is directed at the jellyfish rather than Jade when he nips at your shoulder. Bolts of pleasure shiver through you when he sinks his teeth in to suck a vicious bruise into your skin. “You’re such a cheat.”
And so annoying. Just like that time in the botanical garden.
“But you’re thinking of me, are you not?”
Your eyes snap back to his. “Not true.”
“I’m flattered.”
“W-Whatever! It’s just beginner’s luck.”
“I’d wager you’ve thought of me before.”
“Only when it’s inconvenient.” You huff, but even that sound is swiftly replaced with another filthy moan when he bites into the spot just above your breast. “Not my fault you look like Floyd.”
“I don’t think that’s the reason,” he mutters into your skin, hips stalling out into something slow and steady.
Now you’re vexed, your pleasure withering at the lack of stimulation. “What does it matter?”
“Because I love—”
You pull him away from your collarbone to silence him with a kiss. He blinks at you in the aftermath, mystified.
“I know.” Strangely, the admission doesn’t unsettle you as much as you thought it would. “Your body told me.”
Plenty of times, in fact.
“You needn’t respond,” he mumbles, cradling your cheek in a fond hold. Sadness swells in his eyes, and your mushy heart skips a beat. “I’m well aware of how deep-rooted your affections for Floyd are.”
They’re subject to change, you almost say, but it sticks in your throat. Can they change? Is that possible?
“I… I’ve always kinda known, Jade.”
“Have you now?”
“You weren’t very covert with it.”
“I wasn’t trying to be.” His lips ghost over yours in an almost-kiss. “I have no reason to hide my feelings. I couldn’t even if I wanted to.”
You run your fingers over his gills, engrossed in his glimmer. “Why? I thought… I mean, isn’t hiding stuff your thing?”
He heaves a shuddering sigh at your titillating touches. “Loving in silence is far too suffocating for a moray.”
“I see…”
And you do. You see it in the way he holds you, the way he kisses you, the way he speaks to you. The way he looks at you, the way he cooks for you, the way he acts around you. From the moment you shook hands on a crazy deal, you were wrapped up in love. It was never about food critique or entertainment; those were secondary to the truth. Jade agreed to help because he loves you. Jade stifled himself—snuffed all of the pieces that comprise Jade—in order to be Floyd because he loves you. Jade spent hours learning new recipes he thought you’d like because he loves you. Jade is an ever-present force in your life no matter how often you shove him to the side because he loves you.
Everything he does—everything he is right now—stems from the love he feels for you.
You’ve always loved others, your heart much too big for its own good, so it’s new to feel that same amount of love reflected tenfold. Tears spot your lash line. Jade coos at you in a musical mix of foreign syllables and sounds. Mermish, you suspect.
“‘You’re beautiful in saltwater,’” he translates. “It’s a double entendre we say here, meaning you’re beautiful when you’re under the sea and when you’re crying. It comes from the two interpretations of saltwater.”
As if you couldn’t cry harder, you do.
“S-Stupid,” you whisper through your sniffles. “How can I not think of you when you say something like that?”
Jade rests his forehead against yours, smiling sincerely. “These are my feelings. You needn’t accept them, but I would be happy if you could acknowledge them.”
“I do. I hear you.”
“Thank you.”
I should be thanking you, dummy.
He kisses you again, and unspoken words melt away into body language. Jade makes love to you like you might break at the slightest thrust, his hips molding to yours in a lazy, loving tempo. It’s comforting and calm to feel his weight on yours, a reminder that he is your beacon amidst all of this desolation and darkness. Insatiable, you and Jade wind around each other like snakes, moaning into each other’s mouths at every opportunity. You’ve never felt more weightless, so much so you’re floating. In this underwater paradise, time is nonexistent and your turbulent thoughts are carried away on the waves.
With his ministrations, the fiery ache in your belly sparks with new life. Your glutinous walls clamp down, which draws a pleasured hiss from Jade, and you breach that special, orgasmic surface with a cry. It’s soon swallowed in another greedy kiss, and all you can do is blindly pursue his tongue, your eyes squeezed shut. The throes of pleasure overtake you even as he continues to fuck you through it, unwilling to let up for even a moment.
It’s perfect—a puzzle finally pieced together.
Jade reaches his zenith shortly after you, his hips crashing against yours in one final thrust to fill you with cum. It’s unlike human sperm, thin and watery, but there’s so much of it. You consider asking for the biology lecture, but you’re so caught up in cloud nine that it’s a chore to work your heavy tongue.
Next time I’ll ask.
Jade—cool and collected Jade—flops on top of you afterwards, completely drained. His cock twitches limply inside of you, but he’s too exhausted to slide out. Not that you’re complaining. The connection is much appreciated.
“Sex is…not very messy in the sea,” you mumble, reaching to pat his head. He hums beneath your palm. “I guess it makes sense because these bodies don’t sweat.”
“Mm.”
“And there’s water everywhere, so fluids won’t last long either.”
“Mm.”
“Huh…”
“Mm.”
You run your fingers through his hair, watching in awe as the strands waver in the water. “Are you okay, Jade?”
“Yes… Yes, I’m fine now.” He lifts his head slightly to look at you. “My apologies. I…may have gotten lost in the moment.”
“It’s fine.” You issue him a hazy smile. “So this is what Jade’s like post-nut. Cute.”
“Please,” he murmurs, giggling deliriously. “I can assure you I’m normally much cooler. More coherent, too.”
“I never said this side of you wasn’t cool.”
“No, you did not.” His hand covers yours, squeezing faintly. “Thank you, truly, for everything.”
“Jade, I—” You hesitate, gather your words, and continue: “I want to be the one to thank you for everything. You didn’t have to put up with me for this long. You still shouldn’t have to, but you do. So… So thank you. I’m happy to have you in my life.”
“I am forever fortunate to have crossed paths with you.” His fingers curl around yours and he brings your hand up to his lips. “And I will continue to feel so for the rest of my life. There’s no need to offer your gratitude. Being here with you is more than enough.”
“Ooh, so romantic. Everything you say is so…princely. Are you secretly fairy-tale royalty?”
“Would you like to meet my father and find out?”
“Ugh. Forget I said anything. You’re so two-faced.” You tear your hand out of his clasp.
Jade chuckles. “It wouldn’t be a very long swim. My mother will adore you.”
“You’re shameless. We still have to collect the rest of the stuff for Azul.”
“He’ll live.”
“I’ll be indebted to him.”
“And then I’ll get to see you more often.” Jade pets the bloody bites littering your skin with overt adoration. “What wonderful luck, no?”
“You’re seriously the worst!”
“You don’t mean that.”
He’s right; you don’t.
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You’re not perturbed by the signs, or lack thereof.
Firstly, your period is notorious for being late. Secondly, you haven’t felt a sliver of sickness ever since Jack offhandedly remarked that you smelled different. When asked to explicate, he told you in that gruff voice of his: “Sweeter. Not like your perfumes. This is a natural sweetness.”
You were wearing your favorite fragrance at the time, so when you sniffed your wrist and turned up with a noseful of Date Night you figured Jack must have mistaken the two. Surely a wolf beastman can have a faulty nose. It can’t be correct all the time, right? Even now, after listening to similar remarks from friends and acquaintances alike, you’re convinced a mistake has been made.
After all, nothing’s changed.
Today, however, it’s Azul who wrinkles his nose at you when you walk past him in the lounge. The busy atmosphere requires his presence, hence why he’s joining you on the floor. He’d be a welcome appearance, if not for his bizarre reaction.
“What?”
“Nothing,” he says with another snuffle.
You narrow your eyes. “Don’t tell me I smell weird, too. That’s all I’ve been hearing lately.”
“Surely someone’s told you.” He folds his arms across his chest. “If not my distracted customers, I would hope one of your friends has clued you in by now.”
“I’m not distracting them on purpose, Azul. But, really, you ought to be happy. It’s bringing in more money. Lots of tips.” You gesture to yourself with your free hand; the other is occupied with a tray full of plates. “Aren’t I doing you a favor?”
He hums, fixing his eyes on the clustered crowd. Jade and Floyd make their rounds, as do the rest of the lounge staff. “And you’ve been feeling well? No illness or discomfort of any sort? Any unusual symptoms?”
“What does my smell have to do with any of that?”
Azul offers you a pleasant simper. “For the right price, I may be able to speculate.”
“Nice try. Like I’d fall for that.”
You pivot on your heel and head for your designated table, hips sashaying all the way. For a while you were paranoid that you smelled foul and that your perfumes couldn’t mask it, but when you asked Ace and Deuce they couldn’t pinpoint the issue either. It was then when Ace joked that your uniform seemed a size too tight, and your concerns evaporated all at once—as did Ace’s comment when you and Deuce chased him through the halls to wring an apology out of him.
Grim doesn’t agree with their assessment, but then you can never tell if he’s being serious when he grumbles about your smell or how you’re like a human furnace now. Winter is approaching; of course you’ve started to bundle up to accommodate for the chilly weather. But Grim insists this is different. Agree to disagree, you compromised and left it at that. Jade had been your last resort, who weighed in with a smile and some cryptic nonsense about ‘delightful consequences’—whatever that meant. Consulting him was a fruitless effort, as he proved to be about as much help as the rest of the school.
Azul doesn’t know what he’s talking about, you think as you serve the table of students. I’ve never felt better.
Just as you think that, though, your body chooses to ridicule you. When you step away from the table, fatigue washes over you and you stumble on unsteady legs. You brace yourself for the floor’s cruel kiss, but the impact from the collapse never comes. Strong arms wrap around you from behind, lifting you upright, and then you hear him. Your star.
“Whoa! Careful there, Shrimpy. Don’t go fallin’ on us.”
“F-Floyd!” You stare up at him from where you remain slumped in his grasp. The world spins and presents you with three Floyds. You blink them away until there’s one, and by the Great Seven is he handsome in his uniform. “Thanks for catching me…”
“Don’t mention it.” He helps you to your feet, patting you down for extra measure. “All good?”
“Yeah… Yeah, totally. Sorry. I don’t know what happened. One minute I was fine, and the next I was so exhausted I couldn’t walk straight.”
“You get enough sleep?”
“I could do better, but I had to pull an all-nighter. Maybe I’m not eating enough? But then Ace said my uniform looked tight… Do you think I’m coming down with something? But I haven’t felt sick either. Just hungry. Seriously… What’s going on with my body?”
Floyd looks through you rather than at you, his face scrunched in contemplation. He leans closer, sniffs you once, and then pinches you through your shirt. You flinch.
“H-Hey! What was that for?”
His mouth spreads in an obnoxiously smug grin—the sort that tells you he’s worked out the solution to a mystery you’ve yet to recognize. “Just testin’ something. You’re smellin’ more like Jade these days. Mama’ll be happy knowin’ he’s got himself a li’l lady friend.”
You bristle, warming under his knowing gaze. Of course Jade’s scent is fresh on your clothes. Prior to your shift, the two of you rendezvoused for a quick round of kissing and bickering over the title for your mutualistic relations. It’s not love. It’s convenience. You fool yourself with this lie because part of you is still so hung up on Floyd. Though your affections have dimmed considerably since that day in the Coral Sea, you still catch yourself fantasizing about him and the future you could share. Although, after everything that’s happened with Jade, you’re not sure where your heart lies.
Jade is not the other half to your pair, but neither is Floyd.
But Jade is always around and he likes you; Floyd does not. And sometimes you think Jade will make it official—that he’ll confess again and you’ll echo the sentiment this time because you have nothing to lose and you’re always waltzing on the border between love and lust. You await that day with hopeful horror.
Everything has changed even if it doesn’t feel like it.
“I am not his lady friend. Not like that.”
“Sure you aren’t. And I’m not a moray.”
“I’m serious!”
“Course you are. I just don’t believe ya.”
“You—” Scowling, you move to swat at him, but the noisy growl of your stomach stops you in your tracks. “Y-You didn’t hear that!”
“Guess it’s better bein’ hungry than sick. Surprised you can even keep anything down.”
“What are you talking about? That makes no sense.”
Floyd shrugs. “Nothin’. Just sayin’ it’s damn good luck is all. These sorta things make humans suuuper sick.”
“Okay… Cool. Thanks for the input?”
Floyd snatches your fedora, indicating he’s ready for a chase and that this conversation has ended. “Hee-hee. You’ll figure it out soon.”
“Wha—hey! Get back here! I wanna know right now!”
Like a brainwashed fool, you pursue because he’s still your star—the eel you’ve idolized ever since you met him. Those feelings are impossible to squash, but it doesn’t matter. Floyd isn’t bothered, and perhaps that’s for the best. His nonchalance allows the two of you to remain friends even in the wake of your confession.
Nothing has changed between you and him.
Looking on with mounting interest, Azul pulls a very proud-looking Jade aside. “You seem pleased.”
“As a peach.”
“Am I right to assume you have a contingency plan written up?”
“And for what contingency must I plan?”
Azul scoffs at his deliberate pussyfooting. “You tell me. Your intentions evade me at present.”
“Is that so? And I thought I made them perfectly clear all those months ago.”
“You did, yes, but I fail to understand how any of this benefits you if she’s still so enamored with Floyd. Do you intend to make a marriage out of this noncommittal not-romance?”
“Azul, you jest. I’m not someone who plays for second place or consolation prizes. Of course I’ll marry (Name). She won’t have a choice.”
“You’re not even romantically involved.”
“Not by human standards.”
“No, I suppose not.” Azul watches as you, oblivious and secretly enceinte, follow Floyd to the kitchen to retrieve another set of finished orders. “A child is a commitment in more ways than one.”
“As are twins.”
He doesn’t shudder at the sight of Jade’s razored smirk, but he does raise an inquiring brow. “What makes you think that?”
“Moray eel intuition.”
“Hah. I see. (Name) won’t be very thrilled.”
“Perhaps not. But we’ll be here to help, won’t we?”
The two exchange a devious glance. Azul snickers. “Oh, but of course. I am nothing if not a compassionate, benevolent soul.”
“Your generosity parallels that of the great Sea Witch,” Jade agrees, a hand held over his heart.
“It was reckless, but I must admit I’m impressed.”
“Why, thank you. I do so enjoy playing dangerous games. The risks are profoundly metamorphic, but the rewards make it worth my while.” His two-toned eyes track your figure as you flit about the lounge with Floyd. “I’ll do whatever it takes. If I must play Floyd for the day, so be it. If I must swallow her in my shadow so that no one else dares to look for her light, so be it. These are the lengths I’m willing to go to for her. She is my everything. My dearest. My moon.” Jade glances at Azul, a manic grin darkening his features. “And rather than confine myself to the role of a single star seeking her approval, I’ll become her universe. Then there will be no need to compete with other stars, for I will be the only one she’ll ever see in this starless solar system.”
“What a frightening face… You and (Name) really are a match made in madness.”
“Aren’t we just?”
559 notes · View notes
foli-vora · 3 months
Note
Helloooooo! 3000 that's flipping mental, congratulations!
Could I please request some pelvis smashing smut with Frank Castle and:
“H-How long have you been standing there?”
Thank yoooo! 💖
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Sweet love! I appreciate you so damn much, thank you for your request. I'm so sorry for the insane delay, but I hope you enjoy this little bit of filth 💖
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close up
frank castle x f!reader
word count: 1k-ish? i finished it in my drafts so idk warnings: SMUT 18+ ONLY, use of saliva as lube, masturbation (f), toy use, smidgen of voyeurism, oral (f), brief mention of double penetration
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It’s stress that has you so wound up. Tension hangs in your muscles, an ache starts to build behind your temples. You just need something to take the edge off, something to throw yourself into to forget the shit day you’d had to endure. You just want to be—no thoughts, no anxiety, just calm bliss.
And you know exactly where to start.
Usually it would be him. He’s always there for you when you need him, always more than happy to please, to work those worries and stresses away until you’re nothing but a sweaty mess, all shaky limbs and panting breathlessly at the ceiling without a single coherent thought in mind...
...but today Frank wouldn’t be back for a few more hours, and so you decide to take advantage of the quiet, empty apartment. Some days you’d wait, nerves strung and foot bouncing until he’s within arms reach and ready to chase all your shit away, but not today.
Today was rough, and you need something now. 
The dildo isn’t new by any means, but you’ve found very little use of it since Frank had taken up a more permanent spot in your life. It’s exactly where you left it, and soon your pants are abandoned on the floor beside your bed. 
You don’t bother undressing fully, you don’t even bother getting in the damn sheets. Your too impatient, too pissed off, too tense. It takes only seconds until your legs are spread, and you're spitting onto your fingers, smoothing them along the ridges along the toy and running the blunt tip of it through your folds and along your slit.
It's slides into your pussy with a bit of resistance, having not prepared yourself or the toy properly, but you see it through, and with a few smooth strokes, you feel your body start to warm to it, you feel the toy start to glide easier the more it moves within you and your hips start to meet the rhythm of your hand.
You picture Frank and how he looks moving above you, how he feels pressing you firmly into the mattress as his strong hands keep your thighs spread. You imagine the low gravel of his voice melting in your ear, telling you how good you feel, how good you're taking it and how crazy you drive him—
He's the last thing you expect to see when your eyes flutter open from a particularly deep hit of the toy, thick arms crossed over his chest and broad body braced comfortably up against the doorframe.
“H-how long have you been standing there?” You pant softly, not in the right mind to even feel the slightest bit embarrassed at getting caught in such a way.
“Long enough to enjoy the show,” he returns, a tug of a smirk pulling at one side of his lips, “you had a rough day, sweetheart?”
“Mm, you gonna get over here and help me, or just stand there?”
“Didn’t think you needed my help,” he rumbles, his grin briefly widening, “but I can’t say no to that.”
He steps into the room quietly, shrugging his jacket off while he does so before sinking a knee into the mattress and smoothing rough hands down your thighs. You go to remove the toy but he’s quick to stop you with a firm hand pressing against yours and soon taking it over, pushing the dildo back deeper into your cunt until you’re whining softly from the pressure of it. 
“Let’s leave it in, pretty girl,” he mutters hoarsely, sinking onto his front and letting his tongue run along his lower lip as he drags the thick length of silicone back and forth, watching the way your slick pussy spreads and swallows the toy.
He’s entranced. It’s nothing he hasn’t seen before, his eyes often unable to help but fall and study the way his own cock splits you open and takes you apart whenever he gets the opportunity, but it feels different here. It’s not his cock, but he’s the one controlling the toy—the speed, the depth…
The way your cunt parts for it, the way the silicone glistens with your creamy arousal when he brings the length out to where only the tip remains probing at your entrance… Jesus. He’s got a goddamn close up of the whole thing, and it’s got him feeling damn near pathetic as he fights to grind into the sheets to sate the borderline agonising throb of his hard cock pressing up against his jeans. 
“God, look at you. You look so damn good baby, you’re takin’ it so well.”
You feel your chest heave at the praise, a slight pinch of impatience working it’s way between your brows at the slow pace he seems content using, “Frank—”
“Shh,” he soothes, pressing wet kisses along the inside of your thigh and feeling the jump of muscle under his lips, “you gonna let me have my turn, alright? Let me have my turn, and I’ll make it all better.”
His words melt against your core with a wash of hot air, and it takes everything in you to not buck your hips up in anticipation. Thankfully you don’t have to wait long. Lips soon press against your aching clit in a light kiss, before his thick tongue begins to roll firmly against the swollen nerve, languidly dragging up and down at the same pace he thrusts the toy in and out of you.
It’s fucking maddening. It’s perfect. 
He takes his time working you up, alternating between working his tongue over your clit in practised, methodical strokes that have your thighs tensing and toes curling, to sucking it softly into his mouth until the walls of your pussy flutter and clench around the hard, unforgiving surface of the dildo he keeps you full with.
It’s not long until you feel that flood of heat start to spread out along your limbs from your core, the familiar churning and tightening of a climax hanging just out of reach until your thighs start to tremble beside his head. Your fingers find purchase in his hair, curling tightly around the shortened strands in an effort to ground yourself as you begin to feel the end approaching.
He groans deeply against you, spurred on by the brief flash of pain along his scalp, and the vibration of his mouth against you as it works away is enough to push you that last little needed distance until you’re off the edge completely.
You fall with a sharp cry, bucking weakly against his mouth from the assault of blissful double stimulation through your orgasm and unintentionally fucking yourself deeper onto the dildo, dragging out your orgasm and milking it for all its worth.
Stars dance along your vision as you come down from your high, and your body practically melts into the mattress beneath you when he finally lets up and breaks away from your clit with a wet smack of lips, still keeping the toy buried to its hilt in your cunt. 
“I’m wonderin’…” he murmurs, his voice barely breaking through the thick haze drowning your mind, “you think you could take me as well, sweetheart?”
221 notes · View notes
sminiac · 12 days
Note
Hear me out…Junmin and Jinsik with a daddy kink, but for differing reasons.
In Junmin’s case, being the switch I believe him to be, his daddy kink is a telltale way for you to know when he’s in a dominate mood. Very much so uses it as an ego boost, he revels in feeling bigger than you in a sexual setting, in being the one in control—especially when it’s you domming him so many days. Loves to watch you squirm, hands desperately clawing at his arms as he pounds his cock into you at an inhumane speed, whiny pleas of “daddy, too much.” falling quietly on his ears. Big fan of calling you “babygirl” too, like 😮‍💨 Will say it with the dirtiest, most toe curling, most panty soaking thing you’ve ever heard in your life.
Now for Jinsik, his reasoning is on the entirely other side of the spectrum. From one of their recent Hello82 videos, we’ve learned that he’s great with kids, literally the sweetest most gentle man ever I almost bawled. For him, being called “daddy” is less of a sexual thing and more a way to fuel his fantasy of fatherdom, so rarely is it used in a bedroom setting. But always, always in private. He would die of embarrassment if the members knew you call him “daddy” casually, even if it’s done in the least weird way possible; the title just makes him feel so fluffy and giddy and warm inside. Strikes me as the type to want commitment, to fall in love fast and deep, to not waste time getting into the topic of having kids because he’s just that passionate about wanting a family, so the kink naturally progressed for him.
— ☁️
HEARING YOU LOUD AND CLEAR. I AM SPIRALING.
I haven’t thought about Switch!Junmin that much, maybe a passing thought here and there but this, this is definitely going to stir up my mental image of him now.
When he’s subbing for you I’d imagine there’s moments of coherence where he’s crying, or completely at your hand and saves that as ammunition for when he’s domming, I agree that he’s not taking on the role in bed frequently, so he’s really patient until the time comes where he’s in charge. Incredibly vigilant about it too, sneaky guy, returns the energy back to you tenfold that it’s almost surprising.
Scratching at his arms has to be a weak spot,, but also so revitalizing ?? like he’d be so focused on the way your hands move at his skin, your nails dragging and squeezing, especially if they’re on the smaller side because the image of your fingers barely able to latch firmly onto his biceps or shoulders has him licking at his lips, briefly gathering what’s left of his energy and completely pouring it into fucking you.
Dom!Junmin is sooo sickening, he’s demanding with his actions which stems from his like of “feeling bigger than you” but gentle— maybe even slightly teasing with his mouth. Loves getting down real close to your face while he’s got your legs pinned back as far as you can, slow yet heavy with his strokes kissing you wetly between his words, asking: “Feels good, yeah? No, you can handle this sweet girl, need proof? look, watch with me.”
AIR. I NEED AIR. TOUCHING GRASS, EATING IT.
Anyways, as for Jinsik there’s absolutely gotta be a breeding kink there, right ???? That comes in hand with his dream of being a dad, right ?????
There’s no way he’s cumming just from simply being called ‘daddy’ while having sex, but now hear me out. Being descriptive yet not too detailed about your future together, but stating that you want exactly as he does, to have a family, to being committed to him entirely, that no one else could possibly have you, not in this lifetime or any other. Now that’s what undeniably has him cumming every single time, especially if you’re right in his ear, or the eye contact is actually suffocating.
Feeling at his features, telling him the ones of his that you want your kid(s) to have, he’ll start crying sometimes too let’s be real.
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blu3haw4 · 2 months
Text
Sneak Peek
I've been saying for this Clexaweek, I'll try to write for last year themes as I make my way updating my WIP's.
I have a headache that's killing me, so instead of posting the full chapter for today's update, i'll give you a sneak peek of what I have so far, this is probably like... less than half of the entire chapter I have planned out and I'm keeping the plot point to myself 😌
So here it is, For day three: Fake dating
Guess we'll have to work it out (Arranged Marrige from Clexaweek 2022)
Here's a little summary:
Clarke and Lexa live in a relatively small town and are forced to get married after Clarke's mother caught them hooking up. The problem? It was a one-night stand and they know nothing about each other.
And here you go, happy Clexaweek everyone, this one is spicy 😈
"Are you insane?!"
"I will be good for you, honey. Don't act like it's the first time I've picked your date for these events"
"Mom! Don't you realized how different this is?! Are you aware that the shit you pulled is some next level stalkery?!" Clarke exasperated into the phone, she had gone out to grab lunch and as usual called her mom for their weekly updates.
She was still trying to process the events of Saturday morning and her mother not having an ounce of touch when it came to social manners. Clarke had decided, though still shaken, to let it go and move one, that was until Abby brought up the gala and her recently arranged date. And all the trouble she went through to make it happen.
"Oh don't be dramatic. I've known Agustus for years, this is no difference to the Desai"
'Gustus' Clarke corrected in her head, because of course she remember such a stupid detail "I had never met Ryker before!" she hissed, because she knew how to pick her battles "I never hooked up with him before!"
Her mom tasked on her phone and Clarke almost snapped "Look, darling, I have a surgery soon, okay? I have Lexa's number and I think you should call her, you know is not as simple as showing up, so maybe arrange a date to get your stories straight" Clarke couldn't believe her mother, she was just handing out instructions as though it was a gift, something for her to be thankful of, for having such a thoughtful mother.
It shouldn't surprise her anymore, but it felt like each time Clarke thought Abby had reach a limit of craziness she just went and outdid herself, as thought it was her mission to prove to Clarke she could be worse and then act as thought every other parent -or person- acted the same.
Clarke took a couple of deep breath trying to come up with a coherent thought that wasn't finding a way to put her mother in a mental hospital and keep her there until she died. At her lack of response Abby spoke again "Sweetie you know the drill, this galas are just to help you showcase your name with a pretty and successful young adult in your arm. This people have expectations of what success looks like and you know showing up with your friends isn't it"
And of course it was true, most of the millionaires and billionaires that showed up at hospital gala's went there under the disguise of wanting to help, to share their grant of salt for the sake of medicine and people's well being. In reality they were there to inflate their egos even more, to have successful people of all ages kiss their asses to convince them to help their cause. They're expectations were for those people to have their lives figured out, to have a life plan that they could prize themself in supporting with donations, being single didn't fit their parameters.
So of course it was Clarke's braking point; in her own way, her mother was just trying to show her how much she cared. Her entire life she had gone above and beyond to support her; her passions and dreams, she paid for all her education only asking for her happiness in return. Even if often she pulled up crazy things like inviting her one-night-stand to a very elite event, or calling her ex boyfriends to ask why they had dumped her, she always had the best of intentions.
With a sigh, Clarke agreed "Okay. Can you text me her number? I'll call her soon and I'll coach her for Sunday"
∞·∞·∞
"Fuck! Don't stop!"
And for the third time in the past two hours Clarke thanked her past self for agreeing to her mother's crazy idea. Feeling Lexa's walls shudder around three of her fingers, hearing her breath fasten by the minute as her moan grew louder and louder, more desperate each thrust of Clarke hips.
Lexa was face down on the bed, her leg parted so wide that her hips were barely lifted from the bed, Clarke had a hand trapped between their bodies, her hips helping her trust deep into Lexa's cunt, as her other hand had come around Lexa's abdomen to tease her clit. Clarke was fully leaning over Lexa's back, nibbling and licking at her shoulders and neck, occasionally sharing a desperate messy kiss before Lexa's moans interrupted them. Lexa had a hand on Clarke's wrist keeping her hand from wandering away from her clit, and her other arm was stretch towards the headboard where she occasionally held from.
A call on Tuesday afternoon -because she needed a whole day to prepare- lead to a coffee date on Thursday. They rode off the indicial awkwardness and got down to business -no pun intended- Clarke explained to Lexa as best she could all the things they should prepare for and they planned out some fact about a fake relationship should people potentially ask them.
One flirty joke about their hypothetical sex life turned into a round of back and forth about their night together and before they knew it they were making out in the elevator up to Lexa's apartment. Neither cared that it was a weeknight when Clarke unbuttoned her shirt and Lexa helped her out of her bra, they couldn’t be bother about noise complaints when Clarke got down on her knees after backing Lexa to the nearest wall and devoured her as though it was her last meal.
Lexa didn't let her catch her breath before she had her pinned to the couch getting fingered down with a vigor that had Clarke wishing she hadn't left her strap on at her ex-girlfriends' place, never to be seen again. They made it to Lexa's room by common agreement that they needed more space and now here they were, making Clarke wish she still had the strap on for a different reason.
"Clarke! FUCK!"
All she could do was smirk into her shoulder and continue her rhythm, she knew Lexa wanted - needed- more; faster, harder, anything, but she wanted to stretch the moment, Lexa felt too good around her finger, under her, she was so vocal and loud and Clarke loved it. She also wanted to see how long it would take for Lexa to beg, or if she would refuse to. In the end it was Clarke the one who gave up, not realized how much she craved to hear and feel Lexa come for her, she quicken the pace of her fingers over Lexa's clit as she thrust harder into her, grunting into Lexa's back.
"Cla-rke!" the guttural moan with which Lexa came was everything Clarke wished for and she couldn't help but smile a genuine smile into Lexa's shoulder. Clarke kissed the ink on her spine as she helped her ride down her orgasm; she moved her hand grabbing Lexa's in the way, and made sure to pull out slowly, only after Lexa's breathing was back to normal -or close enough- holding her close, Clarke turned them so she was laying behind Lexa and spooning her.
Lexa sighed, eyes closed, her fingers intertwined with Clarke's, one pair of hands around her middle and the other up against her shoulder, her head resting over Clarke's bicep, her nose hiding in the underside of Clarke's flexed elbow. She felt safe, if was a feeling that should unsettle her given she had met Clarke less than a week ago and this was the second time they were seen each other. She embraced it instead, for once in her life letting her guard down.
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mxrtified777 · 6 months
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okay, i completely switched gears to somewhat coherent ideas, thoughts, and rambling instead of an essay. this doesn't really have anything new or groundbreaking, its more or less just me thinking out loud about nevin; so here, take what ive written in the last 2 hours
☆ I don’t believe that Nevin has the textbook-definition of a victim complex; he’s obviously going to be more complex than the first google result of a Victim Complex/Mentality, but he absolutely shares behaviors and tendencies with said textbook-definitions. He has been shown to deflect blame (“I’m sorry you feel…” / “I-I… It wasn’t a fight, I didn’t hit him, he…”), as well as (seemingly) having a tendency to catastrophize (“...No… but Nevin tends to assume the worst,...”). A key difference between him and a typical victim mentality is his optimism. He believes that things can and will get better and that he has control over elements in his own life. (“I wouldn’t say it’s too late.” / “The only way to go is forward. As someone who has lived in four different states, things aren’t going to stay the same forever.”) He’s hyper-vigilant about possible threats due to negative past experiences, particularly about people (loud coughing Edward). This is shown through Nevin complaining about Drew’s choice of friends, both being people that Nevin actively dislikes and doesn’t trust. (“Is that fucking Quinton?” … “Where the hell are you going with him? / “I said, I'll tell you later,” … “I can’t talk about this right now.” / “Have you been hanging around him behind my back?”)
☆ Nevin doesn’t actively use his trauma to elicit sympathy from others. The thing that separates Nevin from a victim complex the most is intention. He isn’t like “boohoo im so traumatized no one likes me let me do what i want im so damaged”. When he’s talking about his personal hardships and emotions (a rare occurrence) he’s not doing it to manipulate others into feeling sorry for him, he’s literally just sharing how he feels. So his feelings of being a victim are internal for the most part, but. I mean. Yeah, he was the victim
☆ Chris’s tendency to be blamed for things paired with Nevin’s tendency to deflect blame is. It's not going to be fun. Because yes, Chris is a pushover, but he didn’t hesitate to call out Nevin for being unreasonable in their bathroom screaming match. What I'm wondering is how/if this will alter as their relationship develops; will Chris become more tolerant of Nevin’s unjust behavior? Will Chris call him out for outbursts like this in the future, and will Nevin take offense to it?
☆ This is why you do your research, kids. So you don’t prepare for 5 hours for an essay and then you realize your topic makes no sense and can’t actually be proven
☆ Nevin lashing out when offered help by Drew (“What do you think you’re doing?... / “I’m healing you. What do you think?” / “You shouldn’t have. I did this to myself.”) is also considered to be a common behavior for people with a victim mentality. This scene also makes me wonder about how Nevin reacts to being helped/assisted, and a step further than that, being coddled/babied. He’s been the caregiver all his life. He’s been the protector; suddenly, having the tables being flipped on him where he’s the one being cared for is gonna be fun to watch. Like don’t get me wrong, Grandma Jovel is an awesome parent, nothing but unconditional love for her, but it’s obviously gonna be different coming from say Drew or Chris, and it’s also gonna be different between those two as well. We’ve already seen Drew be kind of that way with Nevin, at the end of their argument (“You’re not alone, Nevin. You have me,” … “Even so… I do need to be a part of this because I love you, and I don’t want you to feel alone.” / “Drew, stop that…” … “You’re going to make me cry, too.”)
thanks for coming to what i spent a collective 6 hours on today, im gonna return to being Silly with my boys now
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Tell the story backwards
You know, sometimes there is a small detail that triggers something in your brain that makes you see another perspective on something you know. 
Maybe you already did the connections and I am late to the party 😅, but this is my own recent journey through this clip and photoshoot (but mostly the clip).
I already pointed out that the teaser clip for Ruin is reversed. But I didn't try to reverse it until not so long ago. Because I thought it was easy to determine mentally what was the initial take. But well… imagining something and seeing something are two different things, one should know lol.
So that was when I noticed just a few days ago that the clock on the fireplace had a central position in the global picture that everything began.
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Don't get distracted, this is the clock that I am showing there 😅 
Now, before returning to the "time" component of my analysis, I want to point out that the recurring visual theme of darkness for Joey's character and light for Madeleine's is back here too. And this is really present in this photoshoot. Madeleine is often shown in the light or toward the light, whereas Joey is often shown in a darker space or in a darker way.
The arrow of time
So ! Seeing the clock as central, I began to think about time. And my mind spiraled around the idea of time. What if time was important ?
In their songs the passing of time is something important but not really marked per se. Like we know time passes and there are a lot of memories but the songs are more like windows opening on specific moments of someone's life. In Ruin particularly, I have this feeling. This isn't totally chronological but I can imagine there is like one big story that links all the songs together. 
So I wondered. What if that clip was a window to those kinds of moments too ? So I just experimented to see what happens if I reverse the clip and what it is as they filmed it.
First, it changed the way my eyes read the picture. I should have known of course, as I studied that at the uni but I don't go on analysis mode for everything. And I surely didn't do this for this clip when I first watched it 😅.
Zoom out, like it was shown, my eyes mostly stayed on them. Because the room is pretty dark (and they are captivating 😌). But zoom in, my eyes wandered a little bit more on the room before focusing on them. And you know, there is a lot of stuff in this room 😅. Like, did you notice how much alcohol there is ?
Secondly, the scene changed in my mind because I noticed what was really happening between them. And with the song chosen for this, it made sense : Secret World.
For me, the top layer (if I can call that like that) of that song is about youth and passion. About enjoying recklessness while you can. And the rest of the album is pretty much all that went wrong but with a strength in it that helps to go through.
What we see in the clip is nothing of youth and passion, recklessness or anything. This is more of an uncommunicative couple "trapped" together. Maybe it's the turning point in their relationship. So showing us something backward is like the silent wish that things would get back to what they were.
The smile I didn't see before.
If I had to put a word on the feeling that I have while watching this clip, it would be "unhappiness". Madeleine's seems to fade, as she is the only one that looks at us and then looks away and shields herself, her hair hiding her face. 
And I realized while looking at it the other way round why I have this feeling of "fading". It's because she smiles, but reversed, the smile fades to a neutral expression. Whereas, in the correct order we see the smile growing on her face. And her body language is more coherent, especially with Joey's.
Madeleine's character is shielding from Joey's and avoiding his gaze. And she puts us it the confidence, smiling at us at the end. He tries to reach for her while bending to grasp his glass. She turns away, so she closes any interaction they could have had. He doesn't try any further and shields himself in turn.
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I have reversed and cut the clip so you can watch both side separately.
The prison of "us"
I said that I have the feeling they are trapped with each other. The composition of the scene and of the picture itself does for most of it. 
First, the format. The ratio is 21:9 I believe, so the picture is quite large and a bit squeezed vertically. And it was shot in a wide angle lens which changes perspectives. 
If you look at the room in two different formats, it gives another impression of the dimensions and space.
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In the first shot we can see that there is much more height and the walls seem closer. Also this is a 1:1 Instagram format which makes it like a box. In the clip everything seems wider but with a little bit of claustrophobic feeling. Because everything goes rapidly into darkness around the edges and the verticality is annihilated by the format.
Note : you can see the bottles on the right side on this (bottom) shot.
Then the elements of the picture make strong vertical and horizontal lines, but mostly vertical.
Usually, verticality gives power and height but within this format ratio and inside a dark room, it is more like the bars of a cage. Even the mirror behind them doesn't help to open the space, as the light is too ambient to create an open area. The room is big but the darkness eats the light. And this "prison" feeling can be confirmed by their body language. 
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With just this clip, I could write stories. I love it 🥰.
Now I have a little bonus.
Because I went all the way down into my experimentations with time. When I reversed the clip I reversed the music also. And believe it or not Secret Worlds is listenable backwards for the most of it 😅.
Of course, the words are alien and the drums slightly of beat because the sounds are reversed but the melodic parts are incredible. So here is my favorite part backward of Secret Worlds.
Sorry I had to use the clip in slow mo to share because I can't send audio via the app.
See you around 😈
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marcobodtlives · 2 months
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I wanted to ask just a random question, what do you think of reiner, annie and bertholdt? Do you like there characters just not there actions or will you never like them because of what they did to marco ect.
Hi! Thank you for the question, I actually love answering random q’s 🥰 Don’t be afraid to send more! They’re fun 💖
Short answer is that yes, I like their characters and I’d actually say Reiner is one of my top faves overall! I was upset at what happened, and very confused for a while, but after seeing the whole story I understand why it happened. (I don’t ✨condone murder✨)
It’s still sad, it’s still something I know they carry guilt for, and I didn’t root for their demise or anything like that, but it happened because they were all kids unfairly forced into a war.
——
First time I watched AoT I was mostly confused on how I felt about them, up until the episode in season 3 where we saw exactly what happened to Marco.
When we saw the scene with Reiner and Bertholdt running away, with Bertholdt screaming that they didn’t want to be doing these things, I knew something was up. Combined with the shot of Annie crying within her titan, I kind of suspected they were either doing what they were doing because 1) they were forced to, or 2) there was an unknown threat that they were having to thwart by breaking the walls.
What happened with Marco was upsetting, I won’t lie, and I initially struggled to maintain that logical empathy for Annie and Bertholdt at first. (Reiner was a tricky situation because he clearly had mental health conditions that were blurring lines for him, and it was unknown at this point exactly how coherent he was while making each decision).
I still felt for all of them, because at no stage did I see genuine enjoyment in their actions. There are certainly characters in AoT who got enjoyment from killing and betrayal, but I didn’t see any of it in Reiner, Bertholdt, or Annie. The show did an amazing job of capturing moments of regret, indecision, and distaste for their own actions.
We see a lot of determination from those three, yes, but it’s clearly driven by guilt and the unmistakable fear that you only get from kids who’ve been pushed into a war they shouldn’t be part of.
I wasn’t glad when Bertholdt died. I think it paralleled Marco’s death for a very specific devastating reason.
I was initially on board with Sasha and Connie’s reaction when I thought Reiner had been killed. I was upset.
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He was a great character, but everyone was still in the mindset that ‘it had to happen’ because he was hurting people. (I was glad when he survived, even if he was on ‘the other side’ now, because I wanted answers, I was so confused).
Annie was a moot point because she quite literally fell off the map after her crystallisation in season 2. I wanted her to return, I wanted to see her side of the story too.
With this all being said, I don’t think killing Marco was the only option. I think he had already been established as a forgiving, understanding individual (whose last words were quite literally a plea to have the opportunity to just talk things through.)
If Reiner had been in another mindset - his s4 part 2 mindset - I think that he would have handled it differently. I think Bertholdt and Annie would have gone along with alternate options if Reiner had been the one to suggest it.
I also think that if there hadn’t been time pressure and a conveniently approaching titan, the three of them wouldn’t have been able to summon the courage to kill Marco themselves. Setting him up to die, leaving him vulnerable by taking his gear is one thing, but killing him themselves would be another.
——
So no! I don’t dislike them at all. I love Reiner’s character, I wish Bertholdt hadn’t needed to die to save Armin. I feel bad that Annie disappeared for so long and faced so much guilt over Marco on her own in the military police, isolated.
I wish they’d made different decisions, but I know that the nature of Trost and the approaching titan left them with the impression that killing Marco was their only option.
I know there are some people who blanket statement hate Reiner, Bertholdt, and Annie, but I’m not one of them.
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residentvampp · 4 months
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I can't stop thinking about this fucking game so here's a thought dump. Spoilers. And tbh I'll probably have another one in a few days one I can have any coherent thoughts.
- Alice connected with the Blessed organization through Barry after being questioned by the FBC. They're the ones who helped her save Alan.
- I cannot believe they let that man live. I love Alan but I was fully prepared for him to be permadead for the sake of containing the Dark Presence. Curious to see if they let him near and OOPs in the future. That man needs major therapy before we give him any more superpowers.
- Please let the Night Springs DLC be about Tim. I need to understand his deal. More than anyone he both didn't deserve to get mixed up in this and is taking things very well. Would love to see him talk to Casper and have them figure out his deal.
- Speaking of, this game mostly confirmed my theory that Dr. Darling was discorporated after exposing himself to Hedron. I have a feeling we'll still see him in videos on Control 2 but in a more conversational style. I think he lives in the TV now.
- Saga being both and Anderson and a Door is neat. I appreciate that we are broadening the power spectrum outside Parautilatarian. After being deputized and presumably quieting the Dark Place threshold, I bet she'll be recruited into the FBC. If anyone from this game will be in Control 2, my bet is it's her.
- I am a little disappointed that Alan wasn't able to reconcile and bond with Scratch in the way Jesse/Polaris did. Based on the shootout at the lodge, I think on some level the Dark Presence wants to protect Alan from harm. It seemed to react more when he was in danger.
- But it's for the best. Scratch was attaching to Alan's mental health and anger issues, and thus Alan really wasn't able to push past his issue the way Saga was. I hope that he's able to grow and be better now. And maybe if Alice makes her way out, he won't be such an asshole anymore.
- Alan you better go apologize to Barry for existing, assuming your return won't break him.
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human-adjacent · 1 year
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episode 101 - another twist
- fair warning this is my favorite episode and also my least favorite episode and i am not okay. this post is mostly for myself
- intentionally listened to this on april fools day so i could pretend that michaels death was just a silly little prank
- i love all of nikolas lines she’s so cute. her little “hellooooo!!” to elias in the beginning, the way she keeps going “can i call u elias?” and says that she’s his good friend, her constantly insulting jon and saying that he’s rude and that he has bad skin, “ah, it’s downright uncanny!” “out with the old, in with… well, in with the you!” she’s such a good character
- MICHAEL☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️ i love him sm and all of his lines are also so good. even tho the main reason i liked him initially was because of his voice he’s also just so fascinating and his, as jon would call it, “identity issues” are so interesting. i love how even after all this time and all that the distortion has done there still is some humanity left inside of it, some semblance of the original michael shelley still fighting to exist. i know he’s here to literally murder jon but the fact that michael willingly gave jon a statement despite it going against his nature and entire existence really just shows that he is not a complete monster. the distortion desires to kill but as a past institute employee michael understands jon’s desire for knowledge, and even though he wants to take his revenge on the archives, i also think he has some empathy for jon. michael was killed because of his own ignorance and naivety, and i think he can see himself in jon, who’s also suffering because of his own ignorance, being pushed around and manipulated by his boss just like michael was. the distortion wants to kill, but no matter how angry or upset he is, michael shelley does not, and unfortunately for jon the distortion is just the more powerful force in this conflict
- i have nooo idea what i just typed sorry i didn’t mean to ramble but michael makes me very insane. dont u dare reblog and try to disagree with me bc that was not a coherent thought to provoke discussion that was just me grieving
- en e way here’s a list of quotes from this episode that i just really enjoy (woah i just figured out how to make a bulleted list that’s crazy)
“The Eye watches, and the Stranger conceals, but me… I lie, Archivist.”
“I am the throat of delusion incarnate.”
“Being Michael stole the only purpose I have ever known.”
“The cramped casket sings loud, but not loud enough to drown out screaming.” (the cramped casket is a beautiful way to describe a coffin)
“How do you define the start of your being when in some ways you have always been?”
“the Magnus Institute – that ivory tower, keeping its prisoners ignorant in pursuit of… knowledge. [Giggles] A dungeon full of idiot watchers.” (giggles🤭)
“Am I evil, Archivist? Is a thing evil when it simply obeys its own nature?”
“The mind does not shatter, Archivist. It is soft and malleable. It bends and twists and returns to what it was, though what you see and feel may leave their mark upon it.”
“I cannot tell you the existential joys of truly… becoming. Of an entireness finally crossing the threshold into your self.”
“Even sharper than the joy of becoming is the agony of being opened and remade. To have your who torn bloody from your what, and another crudely lashed into its place.”
“My very existence tied to my pointlessness. Wearing my failure as the very fabric of my being.”
“He got… distracted. Let feelings that shouldn’t have been his overwhelm me.” ☹️
- ok i held a grudge against helen last time for killing michael but i will admit i think she’s cool😔 also i would’ve loved to see michael distortion in the early days of his uh transformation because i would assume he also felt lost and confused like helen did and i’m curious what he would’ve done
- don’t talk to me for at least 3-5 business days i need to mentally recover
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qtipcottonbuds · 2 years
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𝙑𝘼𝙇𝙀𝙉𝙏𝙄𝙉𝙀𝙎 '𝟮𝟮 ; 𝙒𝙄𝙏𝙃 𝘼𝙇𝙀𝙓
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yes. was this due february. yuh. but that isn’t important rn yoyoyoyoyo. dis is a developing relationship yes yes !!! i think we fear becoming our parents, especially those who have experienced abuse. dis is short >:(( idk what this is bro
chosen prompt ;; "can you stay the night?" + Alex
warnings ;; potentially mild language, implications to past abuse etc, fear of continuing the cycle of abusive parenting and a bit angsty etc
by qtipcottonbuds 2022. do not repost.
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𝗔𝗟𝗘𝗫 𝗫 𝗚𝗡!𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗗𝗘𝗥
(‘Can you, uh, stay the night? Not like that of course- I just-’)
He’s sleeping on the couch, one hand pressed underneath his cheek, easing the weight against the hard material, the other, settling across his stomach. 
Well, the keyword being ‘sleeping.’ It’s one of those nights; he’s all too aware of the tiredness in his body, urging him to sleep, yet, he can’t. Too many thoughts. His brain won’t shut up (it won’t ever fucking shut up). 
Alex doesn’t regret asking you to stay over; he was mentally patting himself on the back in a moment of impulsiveness when you’d walked with him back to his front door. But, a part of him regrets that he wishes he could’ve taken the opportunity to open up about it. For once. 
Not yet, though. He doesn’t think he has the guts yet. But, he will. 
In his tiny bedroom, it’s dark, although he can see you clearly from this angle, opposite to where you’re spread out, in a starfish position, on his bed.
Alex isn’t staring. 
He’s not. 
(That’s just weird).
It’s watching. There’s a difference.
There’s a slight bit of saliva coating a small part of his pillow, in a odd shaped circle, but he doesn’t mind (not when it comes to you), and you’re shifting again once more, this time, your head tilts over in his direction, eyes closed, lips parted, “You ‘kay?”
“It’s nothin’,” he says in return.
“Just watching me sleep?” That’s what you settle for, with a wry smile.
“Yeah,” maybe the confidence rouses from how late in the evening it is, Haley had mentioned once about emotional levels running high at night (or maybe that was from a lack of sleep, he wasn’t listening properly), “just watchin’ you sleep.”
He feels your gaze on him, observing him, quiet. He doesn’t like it (being seen). 
You shift, onto your side, to face him; a palm spread open, swiping across the empty bed space beside you, patting down, “I can’t see you that well… Come here?”
And for once, he doesn’t refuse. He welcomes the comfort.
Wordlessly slipping in beside you, he realises how cramped it is. Legs pressed up against one another, you turn to him, still hazy with sleep.
“M’scared of the dark too.”
You say it like you’re almost ashamed. A confession in the dark.
“But, I feel a bit better being in the dark. Together, I mean, then on my own.”
He swallows, unable to say anything, and opts to nod slowly - you’re not as coherent as you were, but you’re finally drifting off - and he’s grateful. 
“Next time, we’ll keep the light on, ‘kay?” it’s barely recognisable, the phrasing, but he just manages to get a grasp on what you were attempting to say, your face now pressed into his pillows, neck bent at an awkward angle.
He reaches forward, but pauses, hand wavering mid-air.
Would you mind him touching you? (Like this?). So intimately, almost. It’s you and him, only the pair of you both - and he can’t bring himself to interrupt it, to burst the bubble. The moment is so close, yet still not within his grasp fully - but he opts to reach forward once again, hand sliding behind the nape of your neck, and shifting it into a more suitable position.
You’re dead to the world, all but to the comfort of his own home; leaning into his touch but Alex decides to respond with a silent ‘okay,’ his hand seeking, reaching out for yours underneath the thin covers.
He believes that maybe, just maybe, for once, he can be gentle too. Maybe he can be vulnerable.
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roobylavender · 2 years
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What’s one thing you think people get so wrong about Jason Todd and his relationship to Bruce and Talia? What is your interpretation of it? Should Jason work away from the Batfamily or it is it where he needs to be? Who should Jason be close to?
i will try to be brief.
i want to preface first that i think what jason's progression as the red hood has led people to believe is he's emotionally impenetrable and impervious to any and all forms of reason. which on a surface level i get why that would be the assumption bc i mean what he does to become the red hood and then executes as the red hood is quite insane and gives the impression of a ledge you can never walk back from, but (and you know i'm beating a dead horse with this) crucially i think what people forget is that jason is barely eighteen or nineteen years old when he makes his grand return. and as someone in her mid-twenties, an eighteen year old is still very much a child to me. i have a seventeen year old brother and when i think about the kind of mental, emotional place someone his age would have to be in to do the things that jason does, i imagine it to be quite volatile and unstable and perilously vulnerable to collapse. is jason in the wrong with what he does? unequivocally. he has no right to play god regardless of his reasons for it. but his reasons for it are also very clearly driven by trauma even if that response to trauma is packed into some deluded semblance of practicality, in that he's using his ends to justify his means. he's clearly operating from a standpoint of knowing death intimately and understanding the terror of that moment where you're alone and you have no one but the force beating down on you making sure you don't survive, and he believes no one innocent should ever be made to feel that. so there is a clear, coherent thought process there. but it's still driven by a personal, traumatic experience that has inspired him towards this cause, and to bring it back to your first question, i really hate that people act like that can't be worked with to help him heal and reform, esp with bruce and talia's help
my biggest problem with the way winick portrays the relationship between jason and talia is that he presents the same caveats as most modern writers who tackle talia: they don't understand what sets ra's and talia apart. talia is in pursuit of the same ends as ra's, but her means aren't aligned and her questioning his means at the expense of her loyalty to him is what drives them apart. she's not a nihilist, she will only kill those people who have harmed her family first, and she doesn't fraternize with debased criminals with no sense of morality (remember, she believes what ra's is doing is right and noble. he's a couple notches up from your standard villains bc, yes, he's utterly deranged, but there's also a level of class to his schemes that makes it less about targeting individuals and more about enacting a large scale environmental renaissance, even if it's utterly delusional). she can assassinate and she can scheme bc it's what she's grown up learning to do but she doesn't actually enjoy doing any of it. so yes, a lot of people like to reason that talia sends jason to learn from all of these despicable teachers to prevent him from killing bruce, but realistically i don't think she ever would. she values human life and she values children and i seriously doubt she would throw a child into that kind of education knowing the kind of trauma he's already been through. sending jason to these teachers and shaping him into a weapon for potential use while allowing him some leg room to pursue his own agendas, so long as he does not stray too far, is way more up the ra's alley, and i think most of what happens in lost days after jason comes back from his failed attempt on bruce's life would make more sense if it was orchestrated by ra's
talia to me should be the person who watches in horror as jason evolves into someone she knows he was never meant to be and whom it would break bruce's heart to see, despite her own efforts to imbibe him with love and learning and compassion. she should be the person who tries her best to hold him back from the demon's influence as much as she can and who hates to see him go bc she fears in her heart that she hasn't done enough. she should be the person who completes her tenure at lex corp, exhausted, isolated, embittered, only to turn on the news and see the red hood on every screen, then march her way over to gotham to make it right before it all truly goes to hell. she should be the person who makes it to the building with jason and bruce and the joker and the bomb and hides in a corner with a gun trained to the joker's heart, and the second that bomb threatens to go off she pulls the trigger and ends it forever. she should be the person who drags jason away from it all and takes him someplace where she can break the helmet on her knees and look into his eyes and tell him that there has to be more to his life than just this, than deciding to play god and taking these lives away at his leisure as if it will solve anything about himself or about the world. she should be the person who asks him to remember his parents again and asks him to remember that he's barely a man and asks him to remember that there was a time where he was loved, that he still is loved. she should be the person to help him break free, bc the guilt of allowing him to remain chained to his past would hold her down like a deadweight otherwise and i doubt she could live with herself
wrt bruce. i honestly truly despise the way bruce is written throughout the entirety of under the red hood. i understand it is working in context of war games and bruce's horrific tenure with stephanie as his robin but truly i will never read those comics ever bc the minute bruce started being utterly heartless towards stephanie is when i put the books down and decided i was content with whatever i had read up until that point and would be content with exploring rather than putting myself through progressively more and more awful depictions of bruce as a character. i like bruce a lot. i agree he is incredibly flawed, a poor communicator, pathetically clingy, emotionally repressed to a frightening degree, etc. but to me the bedrock beneath all of that is that bruce cares. he cares to the point of utter devotion and delusion and is caught in this struggle of caring about his kids and wanting to give them everything that he has to offer but having to hesitate and reconsider when the path they take as his partners poses threats to their life. he can't take back the mantle that he's given them and he can't hold them back from their destiny but he's still a frightened parent with deep regrets over his line of work even if he believes in it and i think, for however boring and slow of an overall arc it is, knightfall is utterly fabulous at depicting that. the sheer devastation and grief that permeates bruce in this culmination of everything that has built up to jason's death and bruce's sense of his own failure in the aftermath is so tragic, and it shocks me that we don't even see a glimpse of that in under the red hood when it's hardly been a year or two since
i have talked about it somewhere before, but to go on a slight tangent, what distinguishes dick and bruce to me is that dick is slightly better at compartmentalizing his own grief and trauma. he knows he has to perform as a leader so he doesn't let things get in the way of his own execution despite however much grief and anger and confusion he may be roiling in. he will be utterly unlikeable in the moment, but he'll get the job done with complete clarity of mind bc that's how seriously he's learned to take it. bruce, comparatively, is someone who i honestly do not believe can compartmentalize for shit. he lets his emotions make a mess of themselves on his lawn. he broods. he falls into deep depressions. he isolates. he devolves into pathetic meow meowism (derogatory). so it's odd that his characterization in under the red hood is so detached and cold, bc sure, he'll obv question the possibility of resurrection. but once he confirms that it's all real, i feel like his reaction should be.. way more emotional. devastated. desperate. delusional. anything to get his son back whom he adores more than anything and to help him understand that he is still so loved and will be loved forevermore if he would only give life another chance. the best thing about bruce used to be that he cared. he cared so much and it was so easy for him to reach out to people, esp children, out of a deep sense of compassion and understanding of how frightened they felt at the other end of a gun barrel. he was a little awkward with it, and sometimes he didn't know what to do with himself, but he cared, and i refuse to believe he wouldn't do everything in his power to help jason heal. him prioritizing the joker over jason genuinely makes no sense and i wish any writer had taken the time to have someone relay to jason that bruce tried to kill the joker but it was other people who stopped him, bc that feels like a very significantly left out detail to me
as for the last thing to address since i have already rambled for so long i will actually try to be brief here but personally i do think he should stay in gotham, he should just have his own sphere separate of like. the cave and the manor. i really want him to work with leslie and barbara and even talia on the side towards community upliftment initiatives and for him to slowly phase out of vigilantism entirely. i realize that is an incredibly unpopular opinion bc everyone loves jason going pew pew but i really do think he's a character who was meant for retirement and to explore more with his life from the outset and that it would make so much sense for him to find a way to pursue justice that's still important and centered on his community but that doesn't come at the cost of his own sanity and doesn't have him trying to play god bc he comes to recognize it's wrong (esp in context of what happened to his own father). there once was a life that he wanted to live and he deserves to live it and i'm honestly tired of fandom acting like the only natural conclusion to his character arc is for him to remain a forever removed classist murderer who will never achieve closure with anyone ever bc then he doesn't get to continue being an edgelord. it's stupid and it's why he hasn't grown as a character despite being here for like eighteen years now. the red hood really should have been a temporary identity at best i truly hate that we are forever stuck with it
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quietbluejay · 6 days
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A Thousand Sons 2
Is this disjointed? Yes. Am I going to organize it into something more coherent? No.
I'm remembering all the Ultramarines in Know No Fear being completely shooketh at the thought of Astartes killing Astartes meanwhile Magnus is like "I'm going to kill you" to the Space Wolf captain dude
the framing around Othere's introduction is kind of romance novel and given what I've been spoiled on that makes me uncomfortable.
‘I know well your name, Ahzek Ahriman,’ said Wyrdmake, with a feral grin, ‘for I have long desired to meet you.’
This is a good way to end a chapter, though.
the bulked musculature of his smooth torso
now my mental image of Ahriman's torso is of a cylinder
also lol, Magnus calls the SW captain a whelp this is after: -telling him to take off his mask because he wants to see a mans face before he kills him -threatening to destroy all their ships in orbit
Magnus is not a diplomat, to put it mildly
Magnus is a great example of how intelligence is not wisdom
Honestly the Space Wolves are currently coming off the better in this conflict.
-i feel like removing the ability for your soldiers to panic would be far more useful than removing the ability to fear -how on earth did the TS manage to conquer any planets on their own i must ask -current theory Magnus went and did Aang's marble trick in front of the planetary leaders -McNeill is once again Gross when women show up on page, i will spare the exact quote -also this whole book is like...kind of horny is a plausible deniability way?? i don't know how to describe it. It's really not enhancing the reading experience -Magnus received one (1) sympathetic moment, his main redeeming quality is that he does in fact care about the TS and they were the reason he decided to go deeper into the Warp, to save them -greasy tentacles. okay. moving along. the snake: bro im a daemon
‘Daemon is a meaningless word, a name to give power to fear.’ ‘I know, isn’t it wonderful?’ smiled the serpent, coiling around Magnus’s legs and slithering up his body. Magnus did not fear the serpent. He could destroy it without effort.
you know im kind of getting tired of slithering things no more slithering things grabbing people and wrapping around them to drag them off into the depths society has moved beyond the need for slithering things
This book has just been a slog tbh.
Timeskipt and...ITS A BIRD WORLD I LOVE IT except for the fact that they're, you know, conquering it ;-;
As well as this lost strand of humanity, Heliosa was a world that belonged to the creatures of the air. The skies were alive with flocks of every description, from tiny, insect-sized creatures that fed on guano to rabid pterosaurs that hunted from lairs in hollowed-out peaks. More than one Imperial craft had been lost to bird strikes before weapon systems were modified to provide continuous clearance fire.
me @ the birds: you're doing amazing sweetie
‘What happens here after we leave is not our concern.’ Ahriman shook his head. ‘But it should be,’ he said. ‘Guilliman has the way of it. The worlds his Legion wins venerate his name and are said to be utopias. Their inhabitants work tirelessly for the good of the Imperium as its most loyal subjects. The people of these worlds will be reluctant citizens of the Imperium at best, rebels-in-waiting at worst.’ ‘Then we will return and show them what happens to oathbreakers,’ snarled Wyrdmake.
hey. Ohthere. Oaths given under duress aren't valid.
current evaluation of Leman Russ: I don't like him either, but he's not quite as obnoxious as Magnus yet
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ninevoltheartmusic · 2 months
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Listen to Dopesmoker. I mean it.
I never would've thought a 63-minute song would be my thing. 63 minutes of droning guitars, minimal, repetitive lyrics, and only slight changes between sections – I'm pretty sure a younger version of myself might have wondered if that even qualifies as music in the first place. While I was sceptical the first time I listened to it, Sleep's Dopesmoker (1998) has quickly become one of my favourite albums. It's a soundtrack to a meditative flow state that reminds me to find nuance in repetition, to pay attention to the details, and to breathe through it all.
When I hit my thirties, I almost immediately started taking supplements, eating more vegetables, and going to bed at the same time every night. My younger self is thoroughly disgusted at these developments. The worst part, though? I started meditating. I didn't take it too seriously at first; it was just another item on the long list of things I've tried in the hopes of improving my mental health. But slowly, it started to become a bigger part of my life, opening my mind to new ideas and possibilities.
The same thing happened with Dopesmoker. I didn't take it seriously the first time I listened to it. It's an hour-long droning song about weed; how good could it possibly be? Then I listened again, and another time, and again after that. Over time, it started to seep in. It started to make sense. I realised it was a much deeper pool than I'd expected when I dove in.
The song has been released as an album in several different iterations, being split up into anywhere from two to eight tracks. It hardly varies from its first muddy, churning notes. The guitars sound like the strings are reverberating off smoke-heavy air, unable to fully resound in the cloud of pot smoke. But rather than that sound feeling constrictive, rather than the repetition feeling like a punishment, it drives forward with every strum. It takes nearly 3 minutes for the drums to kick in, and when they do, you're along for the ride, fully immersed in Sleep's world.
The album artwork tells you all you really need to know about the lyrical story. Figures wander across the desert, Dune-style, wearing stillsuits that recycle pot smoke rather than moisture to keep the wearer perpetually high. The lyrics follow the journey of these hooded figures ("proceeds the Weedian to Nazareth") – and... that's about it. An hour could easily hold an intricate melodrama, introducing a cast of characters and their conflicts, but that's not what happens here. The lyrics offer different iterations of biblical weed-worship, some more coherent than others, but no real narrative unfolds other than the journey through the desert, the recycled smoke, the higher power that can be found if you just "follow the smoke toward the riff-filled land." The repeated sections paint mental images of low sand dunes, only the slightest variation in shape and curvature between them – but it's all still sand.
In many forms of meditation, we focus on the breath as an anchor – whenever your thoughts drift, return to the breath. To keep yourself centred, you can pay attention the subtle differences between breaths, the way the temperature changes on the inhale versus the exhale, the way this breath was a little deeper than the last. Dopesmoker asks its listeners to do something similar. Get curious. Notice the subtle changes. Get lost in the sound; let it surround and consume you and see if you come out the other side with any revelations. The song builds and calms, then builds and calms again, taking long, deep breaths over the course of the hour.
Sound meditation is a variation where instead of the breath, some kind of sound is used as an anchor. This can be white noise, soundscapes – anything, really. Meditators will often listen to gongs, Tibetan bowls, or nature sounds like rain, noticing the details in the sound, coming back to the sound when the mind drifts off. An electric guitar is just as good an anchor as anything else.
For me personally, the song's directive to "drop out of life with bong in hand" doesn't totally resonate. But I think Dopesmoker could almost be about anything and still be equally rich and fascinating. If I focus enough, dropping into that meditative state, the song paints vivid images in my mind, changing over the course of the track and between listens. These images are mostly desert-based, yes, but there are colours and shapes, too. These shapes are mandala-like, with each drumbeat, each guitar strum adding to the repeating shapes behind my eyes.
I keep bothering the people in my life to listen to Dopesmoker because it truly is special and something I think everyone can find something different in. Its layers both relax me and keep me alert, ready for the next guitar solo or section change – a powerful state that is much like that of a good meditation section. It makes me question the boundaries of song and album structures, of lyrics, of what it is a song is really supposed to do.
So I'll say here as well: listen to Dopesmoker. High, sober, whatever – just listen to it. Get lost in it. Step away from the world for 63 minutes and return to real life on a higher plane.
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tuesday again 1/24/2023
new england winter: very cute and picturesque until you actually have to live here
listening
psycada by abstract, the opening track off the album hiking lung. a brief instrumental that sounds like a hazy-cicada-shimmer summer. it is a blisteringly hot day where you don't really have to do anything but even though you're out on the porch swing under the deck with a freezy pop it's not doing much. the vocals remind me very much of The Dandy Warhols once the rest of the album slides into more of a garage/psych rock vibe. a sort of understated fuzzy im-lying-down-right-now quality. i think these vocals would be background instead of lead in a more energetic track.
the album has several good tracks for the "datacore" playlist, which is full of mellow medium-paced instrumentals bc if i am alone with my thoughts while i clean addresses i will die
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reading
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i have Bullet Train on hold at the library but tbqh this section is probably going to be me gloating over various crypto crashes for the forseeable future. Molly White of web3isgoinggreat.com reports on the Three Arrows Capital guys setting up a new venture to (checks notes):
Not only that [both partners currently on the run from their creditors], but the exchange plans to focus on claims trading — that is, the trading of claims held by creditors against debtors who are undergoing bankruptcy proceedings, like FTX, Celsius, BlockFi, or Mt. Gox (throwback!). The fact that 3AC was a major catalyst in kicking off the string of bankruptcies we saw throughout 2022 was not lost on observers, with Nic Carter of the Castle Island venture capital firm commenting that the endeavor "is akin to arsonists returning to the scene of the crime and offering to charge their victims for buckets of water".
mwah. very much glass houses since castle island is also on the verge of going under due to its almost total focus on blockchain infrastructure but GOD. what a sentence.
unpaywalled bloomberg article on the wayback machine here.
this is some of the dumbest fucking bullshit ive ever read and im so fucking happy i no longer have to care about this at a professional level.
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watching
Bullet Train (2022, dir. Leitch) asks "what if you put a whole bunch of assassins all on the same high-speed train?"
youtube
this is the glass onion of action movies. now i do like a perfect little puzzlebox of a movie made by people who really love movies, but this flavor of film is so fuckin smug about itself. this movie wants you to know it took AP Lit. this movie is a long variation of the whedon effect/"well THAT happened!” effect, where characters react to payoffs with the barest and briefest of setups an hour before in the movie. 
the thing that made me have a good time is this movie was directed by the guy who directed Atomic Blonde, one of my top ten movies and one of the best action movies of the last decade. LOVE an ensemble of goons all introduced with their own setup/backstory scenes. this film is seventy percent tightly choreographed fights with improvised weapons in tight spaces.
i am a simple woman. i like a bloody, disheveled man.
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playing
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alternating very fun and very unpleasant times with my big strong boy in wolfenstein: the new order. now, i am a little bit like "wow, you find the nazi prison camp level unpleasant? how shocking!" at myself. i was not really paying attention to the global rise of fascism in 2014 when this game came out bc i was busy dropping out of college and having a mental breakdown, but the nazis in shooters i have played or watched since 2014, especially call of duty: wwii, seem defanged compared to wolfenstein.
i will probably have more and more coherent things to say once i play more of this game, bc i am just about to bust out of prison at about ~9.5 hours of playtime. apparently this is the halfway point? after the first enigma code i looked up what the other ones do, decided i don't care about other game modes, and have not been trying especially hard to be a completionist about each level/unlock all the perks by doing different kills. i am talking to everyone and looking at everything and reading all the posters, and it is interesting how such a fast-paced shooter is adapting so well to me walking around and taking my sweet fucking time at whatever difficulty level is one below the recommended difficulty level.
a note on the plot-bearing moldy concrete. like yeah mold will grow on most things, including concrete, and yeah i guess the moldy concrete will kill you slower than the nazis will, but even though i love how lived in and cozy the kreisau circle hideout feels, it gives me the heebie jeebies. mold is quite bad for you. please prioritize another railing over another couch. also what the fuck math is tekla doing here??? i could not get a clearer shot even on max settings sorry
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GOD i loved the london nautilus moon exhibit. yes i WOULD like to dual wield shotguns shooting nazis while running up and around a giant moon model. level perfectly tailored for me. HOWEVER! i would rather be shot in the head quickly and cleanly instead of trying to maneuver an EXPERIMENTAL HELICOPTER through a bunch of tunnels in creepy and wet conditions. being shot in the head would, again, be a much much cleaner and quicker death than any potential helicopter crash over the water. i hate planes to begin with but holy fuck helicopters no FUCKING thanks (ign screenshot)
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for such a power fantasy of a game there sure are a hell of a lot of stealth sections. no stealth game is ever going to hold up to dishonored but boy did i really want these sections to feel more like dishonored.
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making
fussing around with a f/allout: new vegas courier six/veronica/christine riff on classic noir film The Big Sleep for femslash feb. it's fun to write six even bitchier than usual
“Did you want to be the detective or the lady?” Six asked.
“Both of them were pretty cold fish.” It was very stupid to wait when she could have this immediately. Veronica flipped the covers back on her way over. 
“Harsh words to throw at a woman, especially when she’s already in your bedroom.” Christine clutched at Six’s silk pajama lapels as she was tipped back up. Six’s other hand dropped to play with her dressing gown tie. 
“Now, baby, a fish is–” They were never ever going to let Six live that one down. 
“You know,” Six said with as much dignity as anyone groping her wife’s ass could have, “being shot in the head — twice! took all the memories of fish from my previous aquatic life as a Shi Town mermaid.”
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cardcaptorsakura96 · 9 months
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Difference of Taste
Scene: From the tv show Wednesday
Characters: Kara Danvers, Lena Luthor, and Teschmacher from Supergirl
Rating: Teen
Word Count: 750
A/N: This is for the Rewrite Challenge hosted by @choicesprompts This is a rewrite of a scene in the Wednesday tv series using Supergirl characters.
Summary: Lena and Kara have a difference of opinion of their room and what it means to be roommates.
Lena stared at the multicolored window in the room that she shared with Kara. She winced at the display. It looked like candy exploded everywhere. She sighed and took out a black tap and divided the room in half even the window. On her side, she started peeling the multicolored plastic off of the window. By the time she was almost finished, Kara had arrived back to the room. 
“Hey, what are you doing to my room?” asked Kara looking miffed. 
“I thought this was our room. Your side of the room looks like it is covered in unicorn vomit.”
“You can’t just make changes to the room without saying….”
“Shush. I need silence.” said Lena walking to her desk with the typewriter. 
“Silence for what?” 
“I take an hour out of my day to write my novel. If you put in half as much time on your blog, it could be at least half coherent. I read mental patients journals more coherent than your work.”
“At least I am doing something that I love in my own voice” said Kara pouting. 
“You say that like it gives you any prestige” mused Lena. 
“I have tons of followers that love my content and eagerly await for me to produced more.”
“Yes, you have moronic readers that are only able to understand the small icons you post.”
“You mean emoji’s? People use them to express their feelings.” said Kara baffled. 
“And?”
Kara chuckled, “I forgot having feelings is a foreign concept to you”
“The following emojis come to mind when I think of you: bottle, barf face, skull and crossbones.”
Kara looked shocked as Lena headed back to her desk. 
“By the way, if you are going to continue to gossip about me on your blog, you should know that Luthor is spelled with or instead of er. It would give your writing more integrity if you got the subjects name spelled right.”
As Lena started to type, she heard the beginning of Respect by Aretha Franklin playing in the background. Lena turned around and saw Kara dancing like a moron to the song. 
Lena got out of her chair and slowly started walking to Kara and said, “Turn that off.”
“I can’t hear you” smirked Kara while continuing to dance. 
Lena narrowed her eyes and raised her hands. Around her hands started forming a magical orb. 
“If you don’t turn that off…”
Kara turned to stare directly at her, but now her eyes were glowing red. 
“I would be careful of what you say next. I don’t want to accidentally cause you to pop, now do we” said Kara smiling wickedly. 
The two girls glared at each other before they heard a knock at the door. They quickly stopped their powers and turned off the music just as an older woman entered the room. 
The woman stood in front of the door and said, “I am so sorry for introducing myself to you so late this evening. The plants were being in particularly finicky about their food source today. Did I interrupt anything?”
Both girls shook their heads. 
“Ah perfect!” 
The older woman walked to Lena and said, “It is a pleasure to meet you Lena. My name is Eve Teschmacher. I am the room mom for this dorm. I always present the new girls with a flower that I think that best represent their personality.”
Ms. Teschmacher produce a black flower from behind her back. 
“A black dahlia” mused Lena. 
“Ah, you have heard of it.”
“Of course. It reminds me of my favorite unsolved mystery. I love it!”
“Perfect! I see that you have already met Kara. I hope she has been showing you the ropes.”
“Kara has been very hospitable during my time here. I hope to return the favor by making her my favorite sleeping potion. Hopefully, it can give her a long, long, night sleep.”
Kara looked at Lena warily.
“Ok…. Well, there is a couple of rules that I want to go over before I take my leave. Lights out at 10pm, no boys under any circumstances in the dorms, and keep your magic and laser beams to yourselves.”
Both girls stared at her startled. 
Ms. Teschmacher chuckled and said, “Don’t think i didn’t see how you two were behaving before I got here. I expect both of you to at least respect one another during your time here.”
Ms. Teschmacher then smile and left while Kara and Lena stared at each other baffled. 
@choicesjuly2023challenge
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