#this was initially meant to be a mermaid | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

klausysworld · 8 months

Note

Could I ask a smut with klaus and a mermaid reader? She comes to the surface and he shows her the pleasures of the human body (and what is between the legs she just got

Dream come true

Klaus was prone to secrets so when he started taking day trips each week without any explanation, his family knew it was best to just pretend it wasn’t happening. They assumed he was probably out slaughtering innocents, none of them would have guessed he was sneaking off to the coast of Louisiana to see a mermaid.

The rare few times the originals had encountered mermaids…well they had been rather viscous creatures, sirens.

But y/n was a creature of delicacy and grace. She was shy and skittish, not Klaus’s usual type at all and yet he didn’t even want to deny that he had fallen for her.

Klaus had been down there at the very least once a week if not more. They had a cave they would meet at where the water was shallow enough for him to just reach the bottom if he wanted to and still deep enough for her to swim around freely.

Sometimes he would just sit on the ledge and let his legs float in the water while she laid on her back and spoke to him of the ocean drama. He loved to listen to how the other mer-people behaved, or even better when she began to speak of the animals. It never failed to impress him how comfortable the dolphins were with her. A few times now, at night when nobody was out, Klaus would have each hand on a fin of a two dolphins as she giggled and brought him further out.

Sometimes he managed to swim himself out but would his body would often get tired despite his supernatural abilities, because he hadn’t been feeding when he was with her it made him weaker. He initially underestimated how strong her rail was until he had grown tired of treading water and she wrapped her arms around his midsection, keeping him above the surface for another hour before holding his hand and swimming him back to land.

Klaus had never owned so many swimming trunks before. He also learned that most of his gifts weren’t very incredible to someone like her. Most jewels were in the ocean which meant a pearl necklace from him was just another tacky accessory for a mermaid. She never told him that of course, always showed her appreciation and wore the items each time he saw her but after a while he realised that she already owned an excessive amount and tried to get her things she didn’t yet have.

He found that something as simple as a hand carved, stone mermaid meant so much more to her than anything he could buy her. Framed drawings and human clothes were also of her interest.

Klaus had bought her a variety of pretty bras and bikini tops which always seemed to make her beam up at him and go behind the rocks to change into. Until, after a while, he had sat behind her on the edge of the rocks to slip the make-shift, shell bra off of her chest so he could pull the new patterned one on.

Once they knew each other well and saw one another more and more often, Klaus would pick her up, wrap her in a blanket and carry her around for a while so she could see some things on land. Often they would just sit up on the beach during the very early hours of the morning before anyone came by.

And it was one of those mornings where their usual sweet kisses became passionate making out and then his hands had snapped the material of her bra and he was gripping them desperately. She had no idea what he was doing but it felt indescribable to her and she couldn’t help the sounds she was producing when his lips pulled at her nipple and her tail began to lift and hit the sand. His hands rubbed down her scales smoothly and he forgot what she was for a moment as he went to open her nonexistent legs making her pull away in pain when he pulled at her tail.

He had apologised of course and put her sparkly bra back on. Klaus pulled her onto his lap and gently stroked her hips down as he whispered his “sorry”s over and over.

It was difficult not being able to have her the way he dreamt of. All he fantasised about was being able to make love to her. He wouldn’t be able to count the amount of times he had gotten off to a painting of her, the thought of her.

One day when they were down at the beach and they laid with each other on the sand, allowing the water to wash over them both every few seconds, her fingers had been stroking up and down his body lovingly when she came in contact with something unfamiliar.

———————————————————————

Her brows furrowed and his eyes squeezed shut as he kept in the grunt that threatened to escape him. She lifted her head in curiosity to look at the outline of the hard object in his swim shorts, a smile grew on her lips

“Did you get me another present?” She asked, surprised and excited but he only groaned softly and lifted her hand away when she tried to feel for what it was.

“No princess” he murmured “I’m sorry that’s not…fuck that’s not for you right now, my love” he told her while sitting up. She frowned a little in confusion but kept a smile on her face as to not show any disappointment that it wasn’t something for her.

“Is it… for someone else?” She asked quietly, trying to sound unbothered but he knew she was thinking he had bought someone else something

“Oh no no, it’s not…it’s not for anyone…it’s mine” he muttered while clearing his throat. His face was beat red as she asked her next question.

“Can I see it?” She smiled brightly he could feel himself twitch. His wolf was howling at him to take advantage of this moment and let her see his poor cock.

“It’s…it’s apart of me, love” he explained but she only got more confused. The water flowing up and down him wasn’t helping his situation, as well as her close proximity and lack of coverage for her top half. She had become much more comfortable with not wearing anything around him when she realised how good he could make her feel and how much he seemed to love the sight since that first morning.

“Well what is it?” She questioned with the slightest tilt of her head.

“It’s…something special that I suppose most sea creatures might not have…or it might not be as visible I’m not sure but mermen don’t have them sweetheart just human men.” He tried to give a short answer but everything he said brought more curiosity.

“Well I love human things and I love you so I’ll love this too I promise” she beamed at him and he couldn’t help the groan he let out as he banged the back of his head against the ground making her frown and worry. “You don’t have to share it” she told him quickly, not wanting him to hurt himself if she was upsetting him “I’m sorry, if it’s special then-“

“No..It’s not that I don’t want you to see Princess, because believe me, I would love you to have a look…it’s just…” he took a breath as he tried to think of a way to explain this too her. “It can make me feel a lot of things…it’s very sensitive and…precious?” He pinched himself at his own choice of words and sat up making her pull herself up too. She looked up at him with wide eyes when he shifted higher up the beach.

“I won’t ask anything else if you don’t want, just don’t leave yet please” she whispered thinking he was getting up to go, her eyes desperately looking to him so he would stay another hour.

“No…I’m not going, I’m just…thinking” he told her softly. She nodded and reached forward to hold his hand gently with a small smile on her face as she tried to stop herself from looking down at the mysterious thing in his shorts. He pursed his lips before coming to a decision and nodding. “Alright my love, I’m going to show you okay?” He announced while cupping her cheek with one hand and watching her face light up.

“Really?” She grinned and he nodded

“Just looking for now okay?”

“Mhm”

He kissed her lips briefly before hesitantly pulling his shorts down enough to let his cock aping out of them. Her eyes followed it with interest as it appeared even bigger then she had thought. She looked it over closely making his brows furrow as she did so. He wasn’t sure how to behave in this position, he definitely wasn’t prepared for her hand to wrap around it and pull it in curiosity

“Y/n!” He quickly grabbed her wrist “let’s not be so aggressive sweetheart” he told her, his eyes wide as she immediately let go and began to apologise. “It’s alright, just-“ he brought her hand back to it and slowly guided her to stroke him up and down. “Slow and steady” he whispered and she followed his lead. His breathing shallowed as she kept up the action after he let her wrist go and instead stroked her hair gently while telling her to go faster or slower every now and then.

She leaned her head down when a bead of white fluid trickled down one side “what’s that?” She whispered and he groaned at the feel of her hot breath over his tip.

“It just- it means you’re doing good princess” he grunted and she smiled.

“Really?” She stroked him a little faster, enjoying how his face twisted in pleasure and his body shuddered and arched.

Klaus’s mouth dropped open when he felt the heat of her tongue on his cock, pure ecstasy on his face as his eyes fluttered. Y/n hadn’t thought twice about the action, she just wanted to taste the liquid that meant he was happy. And oh was she glad she tried it, she liked it so much that she decided if she sucked harder then she would get more out of him. Which in all fairness she wasn’t wrong but it took Klaus and his body by surprise as he was forced into a much needed orgasm. If the situation had been different then he would have been embarrassed by how quick he came but it wasn’t like she knew how long most men lasted anyway. All she cared amount was gulping him down until he was milked dry.

Klaus nearly had to drag her off his cock when she kept sucking,

“I want some more” she whined while using her hand to make his dick big and hard again

“Princess- it’s sensitive, be gentle” he reminded and she nodded.

“Sorry” she whispered and slowly stroked him again, smiling when his hands cupped her face and guided her lips back down to his tip.

And from that day her mouth on his cock seemed to become more and more common. Whenever to noticed him to be hard, she was happy to make him feel better and drink his…milk.

Often Klaus would toy with her breasts while she licked his dick and played with his balls with interest. He couldn’t help but love the way she found everything about his body so incredibly fascinating, how eager she was to please him and watch his reactions. The louder he was, the more enthusiastic she felt.

She was always needing and he could only imagine what would happen if she ever had a human form.

It was topic that came up rather often actually. She had asked him once if there were any spells he knew of to let her be human, even just for a day. Y/n had made it very much clear that even though she dreamt have the ability to turn human, she wouldn’t trade her tail to be permanently human and Klaus understood that. He wouldn’t ask her to give who she was up. Just like he wouldn’t abandon his family to be a merman, but he would still entertain the idea of having fins for a day.

There had been so many nights in the water, both floating on their backs and looking up at the stars, fingers interlaced as they spoke about what they would do if one of them were able to become the other.

Klaus had told Y/n of all the different places in the world and Y/n told Klaus of the world below. Both sounded unbelievable to the other and Klaus had even brought her paintings and souvenirs from different countries while Y/n gave him shells and pearls from different oceans. Once or twice Klaus had set up a canvas on the beach and had Y/n explain the sea kingdom so he could try and envision it.

Y/n had tried to look for possible ways to turn one way or the other in the sea world, asking other mer-people and enchantresses. She was able to locate and come into possession of a special shell necklace that needed to be spelled by both a sea witch and a land witch to bind the magic and allow the being to wear it to turn into a mer-person in the water and a human when dry. So she brought it to Klaus on their next day together and he took it back home with him and found the most powerful witch he could to ensure the spell would work.

She had tried to convince him to wear it first but he shook his head and claimed that she deserved it more. He knew she had wanted to experience human life since young and so she should get to first. He promised when she had seen the perks of humanity then he would come with her to meet her family and friends as well.

But for the time being, he wanted her dreams to come true.

Which brought us to now.

———————————————————————

Klaus carried Y/n to the steps at the very top of the beach, he grabbed a towel from the car and gently dried her tail until both of them felt the buzz of magic in the air and the mermaid features vanished from her body. A scream left her as legs formed in place on her tail and his hand quickly covered her mouth as to not alarm locals.

“Sh sh sweetheart it’s okay” he chuckled watching her struggle to move them individual instead of together. Her eyes were wide and her breathing was fast. It didn’t register to him that she was naked, he didn’t care at that moment either, he was just so happy to see her having this experience.

Klaus lifted her onto her feet, instantly catching her when she failed to balance herself and fell backwards. Instead he shook his head with a laugh and carried her to the car. She had never been in a ‘moving thing’ before, only seen them parked and was petrified the whole time.

Klaus had let her scroll through his Spotify and find the artists she had favoured over their time together until they got to a hotel that klaus had pre booked for the week. They were in agreement that they would alternate in a week to wear the shell necklace so they both got the full experience of the other.

So he came prepared and had a suitcase of flowy dressed ready for her. He didn’t want anything too tight on her new legs and he wanted her to feel both pretty and comfortable.

But for the time being he pulled a top over her head and with much confusion on her end, a pair of panties up her legs. That was when she realised she had something between her legs, but not the same as what he had which only baffled her further. So when he went to get her some food, she decided to touch it. Turns out it was just as sensitive as his seemed to be, just as addictive as she rubbed her fingers against herself and tried to stop herself from making such needy sounds.

Klaus’s eyes almost fell out of his head when he found her squirming amongst the blankets, moaning and whining with her hand between her legs.

He shoved the takeaway bags on the side and kicked the door shut. She was clearly not paying attention as her hips thrust up and her legs shook. Only when her wrists were grabbed ahold of and she lost ahold of that intense pleasure she was chasing did she seem to come back to reality. Her eyes found his as she panted like a dog in heat. Klaus let out a chuckle at her behaviour and shook his head

“Couldn’t wait just 10 minutes could you sweetheart?” He murmured as he lifted her soaked hands to his mouth and licked them clean. She couldn’t help the moan that left her as he did so.

She looked up at him with glassy eyes as he kept her still. “I want to touch” she whispered and he hummed

“Feels good doesn’t it princess?” He teased and she nodded

“Does it feel like that when I touch you there?” She asked quietly and he nodded

“A little different but the overall outcome is pretty much the same.” He told her and she nodded in understanding. He let go of her hands and watched as she looked to his for permission before rubbing her fingers against her swollen clit. He shifted to kneel between her legs and placed a hand on each thigh. She let out a whine as he pushed them as far apart as she could manage before leaning down and blowing air over her core.

She moved her fingers away when she noticed his mouth inching closer and closer. After seeing how Klaus had writhed in pleasure when she put her mouth in him, she couldn’t wait for him to do it back.

As soon as his tongue laid flat against her bundle of nerves, she was a mess. He rubbed it back and forth against her, rolled it through her folds and back up to her pulsing pearl. Her fingers curled into his curls and nearly yanked them out of his head as his tongue went inside her and his nose rubbed her clit.

Klaus continued to lap at her her only a minute before she was cumming all over his face and screaming at the overwhelming rush.

He kissed from her soft little pussy, up to her face as she whimpered pleasantly. Her licks locked with his as his hands slid up under her t-shirt to squeeze her breasts the way he always did.

“Can you do it again?” She whispered needily and he chuckled with a smile as he pulled away and looked down at her.

“I’m going to give you something better” he told her and she tilted her head in question but he only grinned back at her.

He kept a hand on her knee, keeping it pressed against the bed so her legs were open while he kicked his jeans and boxers off and onto the floor. Her eyes lit up at the sight of his hard cock and her hand’s immediately reached forward to stroke it. He groaned softly in response and reluctantly tapped her wrist so she would stop

“Thank you sweetheart but you don’t need to do that this time” he whispered and she hesitantly nodded and took her hands away. “Good girl, now just relax a moment and close you eyes” he guided and she did so.

Though it didn’t last long for her eyes flew open when he thrust his whole cock inside her with one abrupt thrust. The stretch stung and a cry left her lips as she tried to push him away.

“Sh sh princess, it’s okay, it’s gonna feel much better in a minute” he told her gently, trying to calm her down as her cunt squeezed him unbearably tight for the next few moments.

Slowly, he began to rock his hips back and forth. His mouth hung open at the feel and sound of her sopping pussy gripping him as he slid within her. His hands grabbed onto the sheets beside her head as he moved a little faster. His mind was spinning with pleasure, he had fucked a lot of women in his time, a lot of virgins too but never had he fucked someone so wet and tight, not someone as loud as she was.

Neither one of them registered the banging coming from the other side of the wall as she screamed and moaned as though her life depended on it. His hand coming down to rub his thumb against her clit only made her louder as she seemed to only get tighter.

He continued to thrust himself in and out of her through her orgasm, his groans became dragged out moans as he kept fucking into her desperately. Klaus pulled her legs over his shoulders causing her to cry out over and over for him to go faster. She could barely comprehend anything when he went at his max speed, having her cum again without warning. Her sounds and words were a blur as he kept up his pace until he was unable to stop the wave of pleasure running through him. He came with a broken gasp, his hands grabbing onto her and holding her right against him as he slowed his movements and pumped her full of him.

They both laid still, his body trapping hers underneath him as they came down from their highs.

“I love having legs” she whispered, eyes wide with wonder. Klaus let out a laugh and nodded in agreement

“I love your legs too sweetheart” he told her in amusement.

They both laid there for a while, he cleaned her up of course so she wasn’t sticky, and then they both relaxed in one another’s hold.

His hands pet her hair gently, her touch as loving as he had ever been and his words were innocent ramblings of what they would do the next few days while she was in human form and where she wanted to go.

She looked up at him with a frown

“How am I supposed to top this?” She asked him and he furrowed his brows

“What do you mean?”

“Well you just gave me the best feeling in the world…how am I supposed to replicate that when you become a merman for a week?” She questioned and he laughed

“That’s what you’re nervous about?” He grinned and she nodded. “Sweetheart, you’ve been giving me the best feeling of my life since that day on the beach” he whispered and she smiled with a blush.

“Am I still allowed to do that?” She whispered and he nodded.

“Of course you can princess” he smiled and she beamed back. It never failed to please him with how eager she was to suck him off, even after giving everything he had to her, she still found her own pleasure in seeing him happy.

He smiled as she snuggled closer onto him, her legs tangling with his and her face in his chest as she began to drift to sleep.

The next morning he had arranged to take her out for brunch before letting her choose anywhere on the map where she wanted to go see.

He was determined to make her time on land worth it.

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ckret2 · 6 months

Text

Chapter 24 of human Bill Cipher being the Mystery Shack's extremely inconvenient prisoner, featuring: the Pines figuring out a way to chase off Bill's ex-girlfriend... who happens to be a giant eyeball with bat wings.

It kinda goes like this.

(A head's up before we get going: this chapter is a bit more mature than prior ones, so I feel like a warning's in order. There's no sex, and nothing here is erotic or sexy (unless you, too, happen to be attracted to eye-bats), BUT there IS some academic speculation on the logistics of alien sex, and some very filthy-sounding dialogue describing acts that, to humans, aren't sexual at all. Plus some dirty humor and toilet humor. And nothing here is what I'd call billford quite yet, considering Ford still very much hates Bill's guts—but like, he's definitely a little too obsessed with the anatomy of triangles for it to be normal. If any of this is too spicy for you, skip this chapter and come back next one. We'll be starting a new "episode" then.)

####

It was past midnight. In his search for the eye-bat repellant recipe, Ford had flipped through every notebook he'd used during his initial interviews of the residents of Gravity Falls, flipped through them a second time, torn apart half his bookshelves looking for any reporter's notebooks he might have accidentally sorted in with his larger binders, and now he was exhausted, frustrated—and, worst of all, bored out of his mind.

Which made it hard to avoid thinking about more interesting topics.

And for the last hour he'd been unwillingly plagued with the question of how an eyeball and a triangle had a "casual physical thing."

If that didn't mean sex—and you never knew with aliens—then it was still something close enough to fill the same social/recreational niche. It certainly meant sex on the eye-bat's side, Ford had fully documented the reproductive cycle of eye-bats, that was sorted out—but triangles?

It had to be something that would work in the second dimension. Ford had visited a two-dimensional universe populated by geometric shapes, he knew roughly how their bodies functioned: a shape's perimeter was its external surface—its "skin"—and its internal organs were inside that perimeter. So if Bill was still configured the way he had been in his home dimension, any external reproductive anatomy would have to be somewhere on his perimeter, right? Maybe at one of his corners? Or camouflaged where the seams of his brick pattern reached his edges?

But then if Bill were a normal two-dimensional person, he'd have his eye on the edge of his body, not right in the center of his "internal organs." So he'd been rearranged to some extent. Who knew how the rest of his body worked now? His top hat contained flesh and a skeletal structure; maybe it was a removable reproductive organ that could be passed to a partner, like some cephalopods' detachable tentacles—

Ford flinched as he realized Bill was staring at him.

To aid in his anatomical speculation, Ford had drawn a diagram of Bill in his journal and labeled various points on the triangle that might be concealing reproductive anatomy. He quickly scratched out the drawing's staring eye and slammed his journal shut.

He'd happily gone thirty years assuming that Bill had no sex life—Bill was an energy being who presented himself as a floating featureless triangle, his hobbies involved cheating at chess and discussing multidimensional transportation, he probably wasn't designed for "physical things," and if he was designed for it then surely he wasn't interested. Ford was not pleased to have his assumptions disputed.

Because the thing was—Ford knew more than any living human about the mating rituals of unicorns, werewolf/mermaid couples, stomach-faced ducks, and tentacled warrior piglets. (Did he ever know about tentacled warrior piglets.) He had the only photos of a gnome mating ball, which he didn't need, because that horrible sight would be forever seared into his long-term memory. He knew the names of twenty obscene acts in siren sign language, and knew how to use his extra fingers to make them extra obscene. This wasn't unfamiliar territory to him. He was curious about how strange, supernatural creatures functioned; and those functions included how the reproductive drive influenced their behaviors; and a living triangle that had escaped from the second dimension was certainly a strange supernatural creature.

But, unfortunately, it was also Bill Cipher. And Ford did not want to think about what Bill did in bed. ... Assuming he used a bed. Really, at this point the only thing Ford knew was that Bill's only admitted partner was capable of flight. Maybe he just hovered while he—

Ford slammed his journal shut again to stop himself from scribbling down more theories, then stuffed the journal in a desk drawer for good measure. Did normal people think like this? He had no idea. He didn't even know who he could ask.

Enough of this. Back to searching for that eye-bat repellant recipe, and this time he wasn't stopping until he found it.

####

Like a vast eye in an upside-down triangle, the circular center of the portal lit up so bright blue it was almost white. The four energy vents glowed in sympathy. A rainbow constellation lit up in twirling patterns around the central light.

Bill watched with bated breath, a second-dimensional shadow waiting for his door to the third dimension to open. The cavern walls shook; the ground quaked and rumbled ominously; Bill didn't care. The portal was stable, the lab was somebody else's problem, and Bill had a party to get to.

The steel beams supporting the cavern rolled like a wave, and Bill's stomach roiled with them. They weren't supposed to be able to move like that. But he knew what he was doing, the portal was stable, he was not here to destroy this world, he'd come here to save it, whether it wanted to be saved or not—

The whole world undulated. Bedrock and steel were not built to undulate. Bill bobbed on the energy wave like a toy boat on a choppy sea; but the steel shattered, rock crumbled, shrapnel and rubble sprayed out. There was a peal of deafening thunder as the world below him cracked apart.

####

Bill woke with a gasp.

Oh. Right. Dreams.

Dream diary. With a groan, he sat up, checked to make sure no humans were coming by in the next few minutes, and pulled his stolen journal out of its hiding place.

The guide on lucid dreaming had recommended writing down his dreams in full, vivid, rich detail—any people or scenes or events, anything he could detect with his five (?) senses, as much as he could recall.

He drew a portal—gray inverted triangle with a center circle, four circles around the triangle, all five circles filled in yellow green—and then a yellow green line trailing out of the portal's side that grew progressively wigglier like a seismogram. He labeled his doodle, "this." He'd remember the rest.

After a moment of thought, he wrote, "Don't remember if I was a human or a shape. My organs were doing things a shape's shouldn't." (He wrote "human" as 人; there was no translation for the word in the language Bill wrote in. The two angled strokes stood out in Bill's rows of Morse-like dots and dashes.) "Being around so many humans who are CONVINCED I'm trying to destroy their world must be getting to me. Sixer pitched another hissy-fit about the portal yesterday. Enduring all that negative talk can't be healthy for me. I know I'm just helping their boring little planet, but maybe their accusations are getting lodged in this stupid brain's subconscious."

Maybe he should meditate a bit—go think positive thoughts, drown out the mortal voices that insisted they knew his plans better than he did. He'd had enough dreaming for one night, anyway.

Beneath the note to himself, Bill added in English: "Everything would have been fine if you'd just let me finish, Fordsy." If the humans ever did find this journal, Bill was determined to get the last word in.

Then he stowed away the stolen journal and shuffled downstairs.

He wondered how much was left of Ford's portal.

####

Old man bladder. Stan dragged himself out of bed. The other guest room bed was empty. Stan hoped Ford was sleeping in his study—he'd mentioned once he kept a cot down there. Better than pulling another all nighter studying alien sorcery or whatever.

He skipped his glasses, groped his way to the downstairs bathroom, and, yawning, lined up with the toilet.

The toilet said, "Pretty forward of you, Stanley."

Stan screamed.

He stumbled backwards out of the bathroom and hit the wall. Bill flipped on the light and leaned out to grin at him. "Careful! You're due for a broken hip any day now."

"BILL! What are DOING!"

"Trying not to get urinated on."

"Jsh—shut up!" It had dawned on Stan that if he could hear Bill without his hearing aids, then half the house probably could too. He hoped no one had overheard that. "Why are you sitting on the toilet in the dark!"

"It's a free country, Stanley Pines."

Stan raised a fist. "GET OUT!"

Bill bolted from the bathroom like a scared rabbit, then caught himself, rolled his eyes, and raised his hands over his head in mock surrender. "You could have asked nicely!"

Pointing at Bill as he retreated, Stan added, "And stop being so darn creepy! Lurking in the dark and sneaking around silently all the time, like a... some kind of—burglar ninja assassin!"

Bill turned to shout back, "What, do you expect me to make a peace cry every time I walk around? Make sure I can't sneak up and stab you in the back?"

Stan had caught about half of that. "YEAH, smart guy! It might help!"

Bill flung his hands out in defeat as he rounded the corner.

Stan finished his business, went back to bed, and glared angrily at the ceiling another ten minutes.

####

It had taken half the night, but at last Ford had disassembled the filing cabinet and found a few notebooks that had gotten stuck behind the bottom drawer, including the one with Old Lady Sprott's eye-bat repellant recipe. Ford copied it down, left a list of ingredients on the gift shop cash register for Soos, and finally dragged himself into the house to sleep.

And paused in the entryway.

Bill was sitting in the kitchen, staring out the window; Ford had seen him like this before. Usually, he could make himself walk by.

But he couldn't tonight. Maybe it was yesterday's conversation still weighing on his mind, the loose ends they hadn't tied up tangling around his throat. "What are you doing up?"

Bill's voice was inappropriately calm: "Dying."

Ford's guard went up. "Do you... Literally or metaphorically?"

"Literally," Bill said. "Hey—how many decades do you think this body's got? Probably not even a century, right?"

Ford's guard went down. Just moping. But it was an interesting question, one he'd put some thought into himself—what age had Bill's body been made at? How had his body been made that age? How long would the body last? Ford had wondered whether studying Bill's freshly-made-but-already-adult body might reveal anything medically useful about how aging affected the human body; but the odds of convincing Bill to participate in any medical studies—much less finding someone to conduct the study who believed their story—were nonexistent.

Ford said, "At a loose guess, I'd put you around... fifty, maybe? A very spry fifty." Bill's hair was a shockingly vivid gold, not a hint of gray, and when he was in a good mood Bill bounced about with an enviable lack of joint pain; but Ford had seen faint, delicate creases around his mouth and eyes that spoke to age. And the look in his eyes... Ford hated the phrase "old soul"—he'd been called that by some of his school teachers, and it only made him feel the distance between himself and his age peers all the more strongly—but with Bill, it was uncannily fitting. His eyes aged his whole face.

"You think this thing looks fifty? Wow." Bill took a deep drink from a cider can. "Shooting Star's best guess was half that. Thanks for shoving me twenty-five years closer to the grave."

Half that? When Ford had been a child, he'd had a harder time guessing adults' ages, and he supposed Mabel might be the same; but it was difficult to mistake a 50-year-old for a 25-year-old. Maybe there was something else going on. He'd have to ask her later. "With exercise, a healthy diet, and a little luck, you could still live another fifty." Ford nodded at the two empty cider cans already sitting on the table. "With your current drinking habits, I'll give you five."

Bill cackled—loudly enough to make Ford tense up, afraid someone would catch them talking. "Cheers!" Bill finished off the can and slammed it down with the others. "Ugh. Finite lifespans. Awful."

"Welcome to being human," Ford said dryly.

"'Welcome to death row,'" Bill said. "Ha! What'm I doing, worrying about decades. Let's be real, I don't even need to worry about the next five years. If I haven't found a way out of this body before then..."

Bill left the thought unfinished. An uneasy weight formed low in Ford's stomach.

"Ah, whatever. Like you'd let me live that long. Right, Sixer?" Bill pushed himself up unsteadily, keeping his balance first with a hand on the back of the chair, and then on Ford's (suddenly very tense) shoulder as he passed him. "I'm going back to sleep before that last can kicks in."

The way Bill was walking, Ford wasn't sure he'd make it up the stairs. "Why don't you sleep on the folding bed in the living room?"

"No window," Bill said. "I've g—" (He stumbled on the stairs.) "I've gotta see the stars."

Of course he did. When Bill said it that way, it was so obvious Ford didn't know why he hadn't realized that himself. Where else could Bill sleep but as close to the sky as possible?

Ford listened as Bill stumbled his way upstairs, creaked across the floorboards, and collapsed onto his makeshift bed.

Ford had thirty years left. Exactly thirty years. Don't have a heart attack, you're not ninety-two yet! Ninety-two was a good, old age. Older than his father had been. But thirty years felt too soon. And yet it felt fitting, somehow, for his life to be divided so neatly in thirds.

If Bill lived another fifty years in this body, and Ford lived thirty, who would stand guard over him? Would he and Stan have to pass that burden on to their gniece and gnephew? Or to Soos and Melody?

Why was he wondering—what made him think they wouldn't find a way to kill Bill before then? What made him think he wouldn't kill Bill before the end of this very summer?

What made him so sure Bill hadn't been lying about when Ford would die? Thirty years felt too soon; but ninety-two felt flatteringly optimistic.

Ford sighed, and picked up the cider cans to recycle.

He wondered whether Bill—hiding from his ex, fretting about death, sleeping on his enemies' floor—regretted how he'd spent his life.

####

Bill's second entry in his dream diary started, "Wet dream about Iris."

He filled most of a page with an extremely graphic summary before he sighed in frustration, stowed the journal away, and stared at the ceiling as dawn crept in. Well. Terrific. He was pretty intimately familiar with how humans coupled, but he didn't have much practice with the solo act. Plus the humans would give him heck if they caught him at it. He'd just have to suffer.

So here he was, all riled up and nowhere to go.

Who else could he make miserable?

####

Stan was startled awake by a heavy pounding on his door.

"Heeey Fisherman!" Somehow, Bill's voice was even more grating at dawn. He rattled the door several more times. "Just passing by! Wanted to let you know! Here I am! Right here!"

Did that demon ever sleep? And, follow up question, could Stan knock him out for a few hours?

Ford—who must have come up after Stan went back to bed—groaned and muttered something.

Ford wasn't nearly as loud as Bill. Stan reluctantly sat up and put a hearing aid in. "What?"

"What the devil is he up to now."

"No idea," Stan lied. "Go yell at him about it, he listens to you."

Ford sighed, but got up and left the room.

A minute later, Stan heard Bill exclaim, "I can't win with you people!"

He smirked.

####

The kitchen reeked that morning. When Stan came in for breakfast, the window was open, a fan in the entryway futilely directed fresh air into the kitchen and a fan on the kitchen table directed the noxious fumes outside, there were bags of groceries on the counter—he noticed hot sauce, peppers, cheap perfume, and an entire bag of raw onions—and Ford was standing at the stove, stirring a pot of vile-smelling brown liquid. The moment he saw Stan, Ford put him to work stirring the pot so Ford could start dicing onions.

While they worked, Ford explained the situation with the eye-bat harassing the tourists and the solution he'd hit on to drive it away. Soos had collected the necessary ingredients this morning, but couldn't help cook because he was busy finding a way to block the bottomless pit—

####

Outside, Soos scooted a trampoline up to the pit, carefully lined it up with the edge—the trampoline and the pit had nearly the same diameter—and shoved it in. It plummeted into the dark. After a short wait, Soos chucked a baseball down the pit. It disappeared, then bounced back up.

Soos pumped his fist triumphantly. "Aced it."

####

—so, Ford was working on the repellant, and in the interest of public safety and the greater good he was drafting Stan into helping too.

Which Stan supposed he couldn't argue with, but considering the smell he would've preferred dicing the onions. "Is all this really necessary for one eye-bat? I usually just swat 'em off with a tennis racket."

"This eye-bat happens to be large enough to carry off a first-grader," Ford said. "And Bill claims it's his ex-girlfriend, so I don't want to risk them meeting."

"Huh." Weird thing to date, but then Stan didn't know what he did expect a triangle demon to date. "Somehow I figured he was tangled up in this."

Ford laughed ruefully.

After a moment of chopping and stirring, Ford said, "Speaking of Bill—he claims that you ordered him to announce his presence? And that you tried to pee on him."

"I did not and he's a dirty liar! He made the whole thing up!" Stan didn't expect Ford to believe him. Stan also didn't expect Ford to believe Bill. Ford knew they were both liars. What Stan expected was for Ford to side with the person he liked best.

"Uh huh." Ford didn't question Stan further. Ha. Pines solidarity.

Even though he'd already won, Stan went on: "All I did was mention how quiet he is! I can never tell where he's lurking. Sometimes I almost forget he's here." In Stan's mind, Bill had been rapidly demoted from "active existential threat" to "annoying houseguest who blends in with the shadows." Watching him help Mabel cut pretty pictures from fashion magazines with plastic safety scissors drained away most of his intimidation factor.

Ford gave Stan a funny look. "Really? I can't forget he's here for a second. Sometimes I swear I can tell where he's been in the house—like a cold spot left by a ghost."

Stan tried to figure out how to ask whether that was a reaction to decades on the run feeling like hunted prey—which Stan knew how to cope with—or a lingering magical side effect of Ford and Bill's alien possession deal—which Stan did not. Then Ford added, "It's probably because I hear him bumping into the furniture all the time."

"Oh. Yeah. That's probably it. You've got better hearing than me." Case closed. Stan turned back to the stove—

A deafening buzz made them both start. Stan splashed boiling brown stink across the stovetop. "What—!"

Standing in the doorway with a kazoo, Bill said, "How's that, Stanley? Do you like that better?!"

"YOU!" Stan flung the stirring spoon to the floor.

Bill bolted from the room with Stan in hot pursuit. "Whoa! Mercy! Truce! You can have the kazoo! It's not even mine, I'm just holding it for a fr— Ow ow OW ow—"

Stan hauled Bill in by the back of the neck and didn't let go until he was in the middle of the kitchen. He pointed at the spoon, then pointed at the pot. "Pick it up. Get stirring." He grabbed another knife and joined Ford chopping onions. Whew, what a relief.

Bill gave Stan a perplexed look, but picked up the spoon, gave the pot an experimental sniff, and got stirring. He didn't even wince at the smell. "Is this the gnome wizz? What is this, punishment for not letting you use me as a urinal?"

"Whatsamatter, I thought you were the one who thinks pee belongs in the kitchen."

"You're both too old for toilet humor," Ford snapped. "Bill, this problem is your fault, the least you can do is help prepare the spray, and you're not getting a knife, so you're on pot stirring duty. Deal with it."

Bill rolled his eyes dramatically. (At the moment, they were both uncovered; but one was already half squinted shut against the morning light.) "Fine, but only because I like hanging out with you."

Ford scoffed.

"And I don't see how this is my fault just because we happened to date. It's not like I invited her over," Bill went on. "If anything, you should be grateful she's my ex, or else I wouldn't be helping you chase her away—"

"Hey, that's what I wanna know about this," Stan said. He gestured toward the window; the ex in question was currently circling above the gift shop entrance, like a vulture waiting for something to die. "Exactly how do you 'date' an eye-bat? Just—how does that work?"

"Well, it depends on the eye-bat, doesn't it," Bill said, a touch patronizing. "They don't all have the same tastes, you know. But she happens to like art films and water parks. Easy date."

"I'm not talking about that! You're telling us you slept with an eyeball with bat wings—right? That's what we're talking about, right?" From the corner of his eye, Stan saw Ford giving him a sharp look, but he didn't tell Stan to stop. Yeah, the nerd was curious, too.

"Yes, Stanley." Bill's condescension was almost more overpowering than the kitchen's stench. "That's what we're talking about. I 'slept' with an eyeball with bat wings." He exaggerated the finger quotes around the euphemism. "Any more prying you want to do into my personal life, or...?"

"You look at that freak out there and think it's appealing?"

Bill stopped stirring and squinted out the window. Flatly, he said, "Yep. She's still drop dead gorgeous. Thanks for asking."

"How do you even know that's a she! How can you tell a girl eye from a boy eye?"

Ford said, "Technically, Stanley, all eye-bats are female." He held up an onion and used his knife tip to gesture at it like it was a model eyeball, "They're parthenogenetic parasites that reproduce by attacking other species' faces and depositing egg-bearing spores on their eyeballs, which swim to the tear ducts to begin incubating. Over the next few weeks, the infected eyeball grows wings and develops its own nervous system while the host slowly goes blind in one eye, until the new eye-bat is mature enough to emerge from the host's socket and seek out her mother's colony—"

Bill let out a strangled scream. "Enough!"

Stan and Ford stared at him.

"Would you stop talking about eye-bat sex?! I'm already riled up! I don't need help making it worse!"

He slammed the stirring spoon down and started pacing. "I'm losing my mind. Do you know what it's like to be randy for something you don't have the right body for?!" He gave them a pleading, slightly crazed look. "I need to feel her pupil contracting against mine. I'd lick her hot, salty tears off her sclera. I'd bite deep enough to taste her retina. I want to look like I've got pinkeye from all the bat spores coating my face. I'd give my right eye just to have one of her wings fingering my eyelid again—but if I cave and go that far I know I'd lose my head and give her the left one too, and then I've screwed up, because STUPID HUMANS BODIES can't regrow their STUPID EYEBALLS—"

He kicked the wall so hard he lost his balance and stumbled back into the stove. "Ow. I'm going insane. I can't take it. I need to kill somebody. I need to set something on fire."

Stan and Ford were petrified. Stan's jaw had dropped.

Bill was panting from the exertion of his outburst, arms trembling, face flushed. His shoulders slumped. The picture of a broken man, he said, "I'd do anything to rim her optic nerve again."

Ford let out a strangled noise.

Bill took several deep breaths. He rubbed his forehead. "Sorry! Wow. That was... I think the fumes are getting to me." He shook his head. "The fumes and the hormones. Human hormones. You know, your species has very insistent..." He gestured vaguely toward the doorway. "I'm—think I should lay down."

Stan and Ford nodded. Bill trudged from the room. A few seconds later, Stan heard springs creak as Bill flopped his full weight on the living room sofa.

Stan and Ford exchanged a look. Stan said, "I shouldn't have asked about..."

"You shouldn't have asked."

"You should have skipped the science lesson."

"I should have."

They lapsed into silence. After a moment, Ford stood up to take over stirring the pot.

Stan resumed chopping onions. "Say, d'you think he staged all that to get out of stirring?"

Ford didn't reply.

"Sixer?" Stan glanced up.

Ford had turned away from the stove, and was staring at nothing with a faraway, troubled look. It was the look he got when he'd just latched on to some mystery that would haunt him until he solved it.

"Ford—?"

Ford slapped down the spoon and stomped into the living room. "But you hate losing your eyeball! So how did you two— I mean—! The spores—?"

"Incompatible biology." Bill's voice sounded muffled. "It's why we never got serious. She wants kids and my tear ducts can't incubate wings."

"Ah! Of course. That makes perfect sense." Ford returned to the stove with a look of triumph.

Stan didn't know how Ford had recovered from that fast enough to ask follow-up questions. Weird nerd. Stan shook his head but said nothing.

####

In Ford's journal, he scratched out most of his speculation about the anatomy of Bill's species, scribbled over the diagram, and added, "I severely underestimated how much his eye is involved."

####

At one point, during Weirdmageddon, when Bill had been torturing Ford for information, Ford had spat in his eye. Bill had licked it off. He'd seemed eerily undisturbed.

Ford would probably wonder how Bill had interpreted that act for the rest of his life.

####

Outside, dressed in a homemade hazmat suit consisting of painter's coveralls and a scuba mask, Soos faced off against the eye-bat, a spray bottle strapped to each hip like a cowboy's revolvers. Dipper and Mabel stood behind him, armed with a rake and a golf club, wearing a bicycle helmet and a football helmet with tree branches taped on. The eye-bat stared them down warily.

Leaning on his elbows over the kitchen table so he could stare out the window, Bill said, "Bet you a hundred bucks she steals Questiony's hat."

Stan snorted. "I'm not taking that bet. You don't have any money."

Bill grunted and turned back to the window, just in time to see the eye-bat dive for Soos's face. Soos whipped out one of the spray bottles, dropped it, ducked down to retrieve it just as she swooped past where his head used to be, and lifted it in time to spray the eye-bat when she circled back to attack him again. She reeled off screeching, eye watering, pupil contracting. Bill winced in sympathy. Poor gal. And she didn't even have an eyelid for protection. But, hey—better for her to suffer than for Bill to risk getting caught in this body. He'd take someone else's pain over his own embarrassment any day.

"It seems to be working the same as it does on any other eye-bat," Ford said. "Good. Once she's gone, Soos and the kids can spray the rest on the roof. That should drive her off while keeping the worst of the scent away from the tourists."

Streaming tears, the eye-bat dove at the kids. They yelled in alarm. Dipper threw his rake at her and missed. Bill flipped up his eyepatch to squint at the battle with both eyes.

"What, do you see something?" Stan asked.

"Just appreciating her sphericality." Bill sighed wistfully. "That spray's gotta be excruciatingly painful—but, I've never seen her that wet before. Sure, we've fooled around with a little hot sauce a few times, but even then—"

"I'm sorry I asked."

Outside, Soos shouted, "Hey! My hat! Give that back!"

Bill wordlessly held a hand out toward Stan.

Stan smacked it away. "Nyeh."

As the eye-bat retreated toward the forest, Ford sighed in relief. "She's gone. It worked."

"You sound surprised," Bill said.

"Frankly, I can't believe that you gave us accurate information on how to get rid of her."

"What! You wound me! Why would I lie about that?"

"To trick us into doing something that strengthens her? To arrange an opportunity to meet her?" Ford suggested. "After all, as one of your Henchmaniacs, she could have helped you escape."

Bill's blood ran cold.

She could have helped him escape. SHE COULD HAVE HELPED HIM ESCAPE! He'd been so worried about not looking stupid or losing his eyes, when all this time—! He could have signaled Iris from the window, and—and the bottomless pit was right there, she could have carried a message to the gang—at the very least, she could probably open doors for him—and instead he just—when he could have—

He watched in despair as Iris's pretty little optic nerve vanished behind the trees.

No, Bill decided—no, getting her help was a terrible plan. If it was a good plan, he would have done it; so it was terrible. He had a better plan. What was his better plan?

"Come on, you think I need her? I've got all the pals I need right here—whether you're ready to admit it or not." He elbowed Ford. Bill had decided he'd wheedle Ford back over to his side, and he would. His survival depended on it. Now more than ever. "I've got a way out, don't worry about that—it's only a matter of time—and she's not part of the plan."

Ford scoffed. "Really. Last night you were moaning about being on death row."

"Wh—Hey! That was..." Not fair. He scrambled to revise his story.

"You're lying about something," Ford said. "If it wasn't how to get rid of her, then it was why you wanted to get rid of her. For all we know, maybe she wants you dead as much as we do."

"Yeah," Stan said, "the 'girlfriend' story sounds crazy enough to be true, but you seem like the kind of guy who has a string of exes who'd love to kill you." (He did, as it happened, but it wasn't his fault he kept falling for petty jealous psychos who hated seeing him thrive.)

Ford said, "If she hadn't been a danger to the tourists, perhaps I should have invited her in to talk."

Unbelievable. Even when Bill did exactly what he was supposed to, he was still the bad guy. "Fine, she was a notorious black widow and you saved my life, happy? Do you like that story better? I made it up just for you." He jabbed a finger in Ford's shoulder. "You know what your problem is? You're too paranoid. You can't trust anything anybody says. You'll only hurt yourself like that—"

Ford shoved Bill's hand away and stepped out of poking range. "I spent years unlearning the paranoia you gave me. And when I finished, do you know what I figured out, Bill? All along, there was only one person I shouldn't have trusted: you."

It stung, but only in a distant, impersonal way; like a hard slap on a numb cheek. Bill turned to give Ford a sour look. "At the lengths you take it to, I could tell you the sky is blue and you'd have to check."

Ford's gaze automatically flickered toward the window.

"Ha!" Bill angrily shoved the table against the wall as he stood up. "Thanks for taking care of my pest problem, boys." He stormed upstairs, flipping his hood up as he went. Ingrates.

####

The view out the attic window was more interesting than usual, mainly because there were three humans traipsing around on the roof spraying eye-bat repellant. From time to time Mabel came by to make funny faces at Bill through the glass; he did his best to one-up them. Once, Soos nearly fell off the roof and died; Bill hadn't laughed that hard since he was murdered.

Their return indoors was heralded by Mabel shouting, "Dibs on the shower!" and Dipper replying, "I take shorter showers, let me go first!" They pounded up the stairs. Mabel tried to take them two at a time, tripped near the top, and by the time she recovered Dipper was already in the bathroom. She groaned. "Augh! Not fair! I don't want to smell like onions and gnome pee!"

"Neither do I! I need it more, I haven't showered in two weeks!"

Bill wondered why Dipper got to go so long between showers without getting dumped in a cold tub in his sleep. (He knew why.)

Bill whistled to catch Mabel's attention. "Consolation prize." He waved a cheap perfume bottle toward Mabel. "We had leftovers after mixing the repellant. It smells like strawberry candy."

"You're my hero." Mabel took the bottle and sprayed it all over herself, in her hair, and under her sweater. "You need a shower too, you know."

"Sure, but until Dolores fumigates the kitchen I'll just blend into the background stink. I can put it off til tomorrow without anyone complaining."

"You're grossss." Mabel emphasized the hiss by poking Bill's arm. "Once I'm clean, I'm not talking to you until you've showered too."

"I'll be devastated."

"Those are my terms!" She kicked aside Bill's cushion-bed so she could sit under the window without stinking the cushions up, and settled back to wait for the bathroom. After a (very short) companionable silence, Mabel said, "It's too bad we had to chase off your ex. I can see why you like her."

Bill gave her a surprised look. "Can you?"

"Iris was so graceful!" Mabel said. "And murderous, but mostly graceful. Like an evil swan."

Bill laughed. "Yeah! Yeah, she is. Floats like a dream. If you think she's graceful in the air, you oughta see her in the pool. She's the only person I know who can make a cannonball look elegant."

Mabel gave him a sly grin.

"What?"

"Look at you. Yooou still like heeer." Mabel propped her elbows on the edge of the window seat and balanced her chin in her hands. "How did you meet Iris?"

For the last couple of days, almost everyone in the house had talked about Bill's ex like she was some kind of malevolent creature, rather than a person. He was used to outsiders talking about his friends that way—heck, most of his friends were malevolent creatures—but it grated all the same. (He missed home.) Just hearing Mabel call Iris by her name was a breath of fresh air. No one else had even asked if she had a name.

"I met her at a party," Bill said. "I'd just gotten a piano and was showing off, and she came by to ask about Earth music. She wasn't in my crew then—but the party was open invite, and everyone in that corner of the Nightmare Realm knew that if you wanted info on Earth, you came to Bill Cipher. So, we talked about waltzes and tarantellas, I played a little Beethoven, we hit things off..."

They talked until the bathroom was free and Mabel went to shower. Sweet kid. Hopeless romantic, though.

When Bill got out of this place, he was gonna find the first boy who would break her heart and kill him before they could meet. It was the least he could do for her.

####

The third entry in Bill's dream diary: "Shooting Star's cartoon is getting to me. I dreamed about the wolf and the cat arguing over who had to host someone's birthday party. The wolf refused to let guests into his enormous mansion, but the cat's house was burning down. They asked me how to resolve this. I told them the cat should execute the wolf as punishment for his inhospitality, take over his mansion, and wear his skin as the party host. The animals were so in awe of my wisdom that I was deified as god of the jungle."

That was not what he'd dreamed. The animals were so horrified at his suggestion that they'd tied him to a stake and forced him to watch as they threw the cat into the flames of her own house. He couldn't remember whether he'd dreamed that he was a triangle or a human.

He preferred his version. Once he'd regained control over his dreams, he could replay this one and make it end properly.

He'd get the hang of this in no time.

####

(You're legally required to tell me if you had a reaction to this one. Even if it's horror. Especially if it's horror.)

#bill cipher #human bill cipher #grunkle ford #ford pines #grunkle stan #stan pines #gravity falls #gravity falls fanart #gravity falls fic #fanart #my art #my writing #bill goldilocks cipher

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merakiui · 4 months

Note

Been waiting to do thisss

⭐️ for tmdg!!! Plssss!!!!

Omg I've been wanting to ramble about tmdg!!! Thank you for asking!! <3 there are many details to discuss, but I listed a few below!

(ask game)

✧ many moray eel facts and behaviors are scattered throughout the story. Like the gaping mouths to signal a want to mate or their toxic blood or how most morays aren't monogamous or how they're a territorial species. Additionally, since Jade and Floyd are canonically bioluminescent, I thought it would be interesting if they were able to glow brightly when they're attracted to someone. >:D

✧ "body language" is mentioned often. this is an allusion to The Little Mermaid (specifically Ursula's line of "and don't underestimate the importance of body language!"), but also a nod to how moray eels interact in courtship. A lot of the gestures are based on body language, and I love the concept of the trio using body language as a means of flirting or conveying certain feelings without having to verbalize them.

✧ the scene in which reader becomes a grouper mer,,,, moray eels and groupers are actually hunting partners. they have a mutualistic bond in which they work together to hunt for meals. it's initiated by the grouper approaching the eel's living space and signaling to them through body language that they'd like to engage in a joint hunt. this is meant to mirror the mutualism Jade and reader have as well as show just how good of a match they are. Even as mers, they are perfect for each other. <3

✧ the title "The Most Dangerous Game" refers to the short story of the same name, in which a hunter is stranded on an island and meets a general who loves to hunt the most dangerous game of all (human beings). For you and Jade, the most dangerous game involves navigating your situationship while trying not to fall for him and his charms. There's a point in the story where you may be able to catch Reader's shifting feelings. >:)

✧ you can tell Jade really does love you when he gives you the entire tray of mushroom brownies. Jade is a foodie with a big appetite and he loves to eat, so for him to bake an entire tray of something and then not keep a single leftover for himself,,,, oh, he's so in love. orz he wants to provide for you, not just by cooking meals for you, but in many other ways as well, such as when he comforts you during the times in which you get upset and cry. :D I like to imagine one of the biggest love languages for merfolk is giving gifts (whether that's actual materialistic items or something intangible like quality time). it's a guarantee you'll be well-fed with Jade because he loves cooking for you!!!!

✧ heliotrope symbolism (eternal love).

✧ the moon and star comparisons. you liken Floyd to a star: something that shines brightly but can also be popular if not read as the astronomical definition. Jade likens you to the moon because, unlike the stars, there is only one moon (Earth's moon) and thus there is only one of you. but there's also something so romantic in Jade pining for the moon because the sky and sea are so separate from one another. truly a bittersweet reflection of Jade's feelings. they're as deep as the sea, but can't be encapsulated in the solar system because there is no room for him there (not when you're so in love with Floyd and have made him your entire world). orz

✧ the recurring mention of scent. I like the idea of merfolk being able to scent their partners so that it's easier to find them, but also so that they can make it known to others that that person is taken. >:) Jade claims he's been scenting you for fun, but the truth is that he fully intended to let everyone know that you are his. <3 Jade takes advantage of your limited knowledge on mer customs and culture hehe.

✧ all of the times in which Floyd (the real Floyd) is being sweet to you (buying you perfume or kissing you on the cheek)... those are just his ways of being much too friendly towards you. he never had any romantic attraction towards you to begin with, which is why it drove Jade so crazy because you were looking at and loving the wrong eel!!!! T_T

✧ the times in which phony Floyd is talking about Jade are actually Jade's true feelings and actions. he really did stay up late to learn new recipes for you. and he truly isn't very physical with others. jade just loves you too much and likes being near you, touching you, kissing you, etc. orz he had to say those things as floyd, otherwise he would have just said them outright and he's trying to have some tact. ;;;;

✧ the dinner date scene was Jade's attempt at having a genuine date with you, but because you're so Floyd-brained you mistook his gesture as being part of your arrangement. ^^;;;; in fact, most of the times in which Jade tries to be authentic, you either don't believe him or interrupt him to ramble about Floyd LOL. but the dinner date was the one time in which he was hoping to do something with you that wasn't part of your deal and instead just something between you and jade. >_< he's trying his best...

✧ the waltz you share with Jade is 100% courtship. reader refers to it as a "competition, not courtship," but she forgets Octavinelle is underwater and thus, as Jade noted, both of those things are indeed the same under the sea.

✧ when you ask Jade what the both of you will be after your tryst in the Coral Sea, he leaves the specifics up to you for your decision. he does this a lot in the fic (such as asking if you'd like the dinner date to qualify as such) because, though he appears mostly confident in his actions and words, he's too cowardly to clearly illustrate what the two of you are and doesn't want to do so when he knows you may not reciprocate. he also just wants to hear the words from your mouth because he hopes that, after all of these questions, you'll eventually say the thing he wants to be with you: lovers. :D

✧ alongside Jade and reader having a few similarities (one of which being the obsessive degrees they're willing to go to for their crush), there's significance in their feelings and how they handle them. reader's chasing someone who will never turn around to look at and love her. Jade's chasing someone who only looks at him when he's Floyd. though reader loves to extremes, she's scared of that love being reciprocated, which is partially why she doesn't let Jade say "I love you," whereas Jade just doesn't want to love in silence. they're both not the best at navigating love, and the ways they do it are,,,, questionable. orz but they both understand each other on that level because they're so obsessed. it's crazy to crazy communication. to quote Azul: "a match made in madness."

#twisted chit chat #sull1van #aaaaa there's so much to ramble about but i'll stop here before i write too much >_<

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perfinn · 5 months

Text

let neptune strike ye dead

merman!din djarin x lighthouse keeper!reader - chapter two

wc: 4.4k

summary: you confront the inevitability of your insanity, and finally meet the elusive entity that's been leaving you gifts

cw: nsfw, female reader, DUBCON based purely on lack of communication, paranoia, isolation, oral (f receiving), once again lighthouse keeping inaccuracies, biting, ummmm... monsterfucking?

chapter one, read on ao3, divider by cafekitsune

You hadn't thought too much about the mythosaur since Captain Fett had told you about it. It had been a short conversation, really, something easy to forget. But you remembered it, always clinging to his stories to think back on later when you truly have nothing to do.

“That? That’s pounamu,” he’d said initially, gently picking it up to show it to you. “Greenstone, if you like. It was my father’s.”

“Ah,” you’d responded, not disinterested in the material but more focused on the carving itself. “What's the symbol?”

Captain Fett had given you a vague huff of amusement. He handed it to you, and you’d gently trailed the calloused pad of your thumb over the surface. “It’s a mythosaur.”

“A mythosaur? That's creative.”

“A great sea beast,” he’d continued on. “Said to be extinct. But the story goes that when they were running amok, it was merfolk that tamed them, or culled them to extinction. Spared both the land and the ocean of their dominion either way. The skulls are supposed to be their symbol now.”

“Merfolk?” You’d echoed with a chuckle, handing the mythosaur back to him. “So it’s not real then?”

“Well, now, I wouldn’t rule it out completely. Can’t say I’ve ever seen a mythosaur myself, but then they’re meant to be extinct.”

“What then? You’ve seen a mermaid, captain?”

He had smiled, that mirthful chuckle that had been plaguing your late night fantasies rumbling in his chest. “Never can be quite sure what it is you’ve seen out there. Sailors are a mad lot.”

You remember blithely telling him that you must be a sailor too, then.

You stare intently at the cowrie shell cradled in your hands, trying to force yourself out of what surely must be some sort of hallucination. But you can feel it, you can trail your fingers over the carving and feel every little notch that seems to have been etched with such care.

(You think tactile hallucinations are a thing, aren’t they? But you’re not certain they're meant to manifest like this.)

There’s obviously the potential that it belonged to another sailor, that it had dropped off their ship and washed up onto your dock in the chaos of the storm. That’s perfectly reasonable. Maybe it’s the answer you would settle for if not for the seaglass and the fish and that tail you’d seen in the water.

With all that in mind, and the echo of Fett’s words in your head, you know there’s only one answer.

You don’t know if you can let yourself accept that, though. It would be an irreversible acceptance of your complete insanity. There’d be no calling your mother to trick your brain into believing you have company. No satiating the lonely ache with Captain Fett’s occasional company. You’d be well and truly cracked.

But even so, even if you accept that there may be some degree of merperson out there, that doesn’t explain the offerings. You’re not exactly an expert on the extensive lore regarding merfolk, but from what you can tell they’re elusive and solitary creatures. It doesn't seem exactly in their nature to leave gifts to a human. You briefly consider the option of some sort of siren– but then why not just sing to you, drag you to your watery death and be done with it?

No, it feels like… you’re being wooed.

This doesn't feel at all like a creature baiting you into a horrible death so they can store you away in their lair and eat you. It feels borderline romantic. Pretty gifts to decorate your home, fish to feed you.

(The cowrie shell feels a bit like a proposal, doesn't it? Or is that your fractured mind, making sense of the senseless?)

The morning after the storm, the weather isn't much improved. Though the wind has died down some, it still rains lightly and the sky remains overcast. It’ll be clear enough for the fishing boats to go back out, so it's clear enough for you to get to work. No doubt the storm has wreaked some havoc, and you’ll need to tidy up and ensure everything is still in working order.

So you tuck the shell into the pocket of your raincoat, pull on the matching hat that always makes you feel a bit like a toddler, and head out into the pattering rain.

You wander through the mud and down the hill that the wretched tower sits on, watching as your boots get covered in the muck. Sometimes there are puddles, and you indulge yourself by jumping in them. But today it's all just sludge, begging for you to step wrong and slip right onto your backside.

You make your way along as carefully as you can bear, feet carrying you to one of the cliffs at the edge of the island. One of the shorter ones, short enough that you could probably jump and the only risk would be rolling your ankle if your foot landed wrong between the rocks. It's the same cliff the seaglass had been on.

You gaze out at the watery horizon, hoping to catch sight of any passing ships. A fishing boat, maybe. None would be so close as to be able to see the people aboard, but the implication of their presence would be enough.

At this point, just the notion of other people existing would ease your mind.

You don't find anything but the empty horizon and the somewhat tumultuous waves and you sigh, lowering your gaze to the bank of water beaten rocks below you.

Sometimes there are seals there. You like to throw fish to them, enticing them to come back and entertain you with their ridiculous little behaviours. You’d like to start naming them, and you would if you could get close enough to tell them apart.

You think that's something that people on the mainland would call crazy in a quirky way. In an ‘I’m so crazy, I talk to my cats!’ way, a way that indicates they have no understanding of what it actually is to descend into complete and utter madness.

You can be assured that you know exactly what an actual descent into madness is, because there's no seals on the rocks today.

There's a merman.

You’d be inclined to think he hasn’t noticed you, or else he’d have disappeared back into the waves to avoid detection, if he weren’t looking right at you. He’s staring, eyes intent and boring right into yours.

He’s gorgeous, mind you. His skin is tan and his wet brown hair is slicked back by the rain – and presumably the ocean. Though you hadn't been able to make out a face from high up in the lighthouse, he’s almost certainly the head and shoulders you’d seen last night in the water. His tail, huge and strong, lays against the rocks, and as your gaze trails down to his tailfin, you recognise it as the very same one you had thought you’d hallucinated off the dock. His body of his tail is massive, about three times the length of his upper half. The whole thing might even be longer than you. It’s a dark, teal colour– it’s really no wonder you were hardly able to spot it in the waves. His top half looks almost entirely human, the only deviation being the gills that cut along his ribcage.

Slowly, on the edge of the cliff, you crouch, closing the distance between you both by a few meagre feet. It feels too close, and at the same time it feels like miles apart. You move slowly, wary of spooking him and scaring him away. Even as you inch into a crouch, he shifts, looking as though he’s about to make a break for the waves.

(You’re not certain why he’s so shy if he’s the one that’s been offering you all these gifts for so long. Though, you suppose you’re much the same when it comes to flirting. And generally, you don’t flirt so much with species that have a mythology of hunting and killing your own either.)

You still when you’ve fully crouched above him. He’s close enough to touch now, if both of you were to reach out. You’d like to. To touch him, to know that he’s real.

(Tactile hallucinations, you remind yourself. It would feel just as real as any visual and auditory hallucination might.)

The two of you stare at one another in silence for a while longer, and you assume that he’s trying to take in the sight of you up close as much as you are to him. You feel a bit jealous, knowing that he must have been watching you so long, getting to enjoy the sight of you when you didn’t even know he was there.

If this had happened maybe six months ago, you’d still have been sane enough to be frightened by this prospect of a silent watcher, leaving you dead fish and most certainly hearing you pleasure yourself loudly at night. Now, the horror you should probably feel doesn’t even occur to you.

“You’re the one who’s been leaving me gifts,” you say, quiet as you can manage in the pattering rain, wanting to be heard but not wanting to startle him. “Right?”

The merman gazes up at you, and there’s only a slight incline of his head in response. You’re not sure how to take it, but it’s not really a question you needed much answer to. More of a conversation starter than anything. Otherwise, he doesn't reply. You wonder if he even speaks your language, if he’s even capable.

You reach into your pocket, movements slow and cautious. You’re petrified of startling him as you take the cowrie shell from your pocket, turning it over in your hands before holding it out to him. He seems to perk up at the sight of it, shifting slightly so he’s propping himself up on his arms. You look down at the shell again, running your thumb over the mythosaur, before stretching your arm out, offering it to him.

His expression shifts minutely, into a frown. His dark eyebrows pull together, and he reaches up a hand. You think he’s going to take it back from you, but when his webbed fingers touch yours – he’s so warm, part of you expected him to be cold blooded – he closes your fingers back around the shell. You meet his eyes, and his intent gaze has never left you. His hand lingers on yours, and for a moment his thumb rubs over the side of your hand. His gaze finally drops, taking in the size of your hand cradled in his. His fingers are tipped off with dark talons that brush over the calloused skin of your hands.

He feels so real. Something so real, so warm and wet and rough and perfect, your brain couldn't make that up. He’s here, in front of you, touching you. It has to be real.

Then, he murmurs something so quietly that you almost don’t catch it over the soft patter of the rain.

“Mesh’la.”

Your eyes dart to his mouth, you catch a glint of sharp teeth behind soft lips before they pull into a smile. And his smile… God, unsurprisingly it’s made him even more gorgeous. It may be the most beautiful smile you’ve ever seen.

Mesh’la. It’s certainly not any language you know, but it’s a sound you could make. So he is capable of speaking human tongues, maybe he just doesn’t know any of yours. You think briefly that mesh’la might be his name, but the way he said it doesn’t seem that way. It seemed like he was saying it to you, about you. On his tongue, it must mean something.

“Mesh’la?” you say back to him, unsure of how to convey your confusion without overwhelming him with words he doesn’t know.

He only offers you a hum in response, still trailing his fingers over your skin, as though he fears the thought of pulling away.

“What’s your name?” You ask him softly, clearly as you can manage. You place a hand to your chest and slowly recite your own name, hoping he’ll understand.

(You think, if it turns out he’s perfectly able to understand you, you probably look like a complete idiot. But then, with how long you’re certain he’s been watching you, he’s likely watched you make a fool of yourself several dozen times.)

He seems to catch the hint you’re throwing and after a moment’s hesitation, he speaks again, “Din.”

You breathe the name in a murmured echo, adoring the taste of it on your tongue. You dart your tongue out to wet your lips as though you might catch a lingering taste of the syllable. Part of you had expected something difficult to pronounce, using sounds you’re not even able to make, but Din is simple. It’s beautiful.

You think you hear a soft rumble from his chest, but it’s hard to tell over the rain. He lowers his hand, leaving droplets of water on your skin. Instinctively, you go to follow him, tilting forward a bit and losing your balance. You yelp, and wave your arms around as you desperately try to avoid toppling onto the rocks below.

You manage to regain your balance and fall onto your backside, but when you look back down Din is backing away, slithering across the rocks and toward the water. You startled him, just as you had so desperately hoped you wouldn't. Foiled by your own centre of balance. You scramble to get back on your feet as he pulls himself away, eyes wide.

“Wait!”

He glances back at you just once before he disappears into the foamy waves, leaving you alone on the edge of the cliff. Leaving you reeling, and suddenly desperate for his return. Din, the merman.

Part of you is imagining telling Captain Fett what you’ve seen, but a bigger part of you knows that you can never tell a soul, lest they think you a madwoman.

(Which you most certainly are, but they don't need to think it.)

You stand back up as the waves crash over the rocks, erasing all traces of Din except for the droplets on your hand and the memory of him that you’re sure is reflected in your eyes. You’d love to dwell on it, to wish him back and stare out at the waves forever, but there’s still work to be done. So you have to go about your day as though you haven't just met a merman.

Din makes no more appearances for a week. He leaves you no gifts, and drops no hints that he’s there at all. It’s devastatingly lonely, even with a phone call to your mother. It only lasts fifteen minutes this time, as you have nothing to update her on and the drama with your aunt has simmered to a cool cold shoulder stage.

(Of course, you could update your mother on the merman, but you would like for her to think you’re only slightly unhinged at most.)

You’ve completely integrated Din into your fantasies, at least, and that's added an impeccable spice to your nights. There was even one night, when you were fighting particularly hard to reach a new record for amount of orgasms, when you included both Din and Captain Fett. You went blind that night with how hard you came.

Funnily enough, it's the next day when Din finally makes another appearance. You’ve got a spool of rope heaved over your shoulder and you’re trudging up to the shed when you spot his head at the end of the dock. It takes all the dignity and sense you have not to drop the rope and sprint toward him like he’s your long lost lover. No, this time you won't startle him. So instead, you wave to him and calmly make your way down the old dock.

He seems to hesitate before he waves back, as though he’s unfamiliar with the gesture. You surmise that he’s seen it before and guessed that it's a human greeting, but he’s simply never had the need or opportunity to use it.

“Din,” you greet as you make it to the end of the dock. Today’s a clear day, the clouds are sparse and the sun is blessing the both of you with its warm shine even in the frigid salty air.

He murmurs your name, webbed hand resting on the dock. He looks infinitely more stunning in the clear sunlight, his skin somehow sunkissed, despite his dwelling somewhere with so little sunshine. You crouch slowly and set down the rope, smiling at him.

“You disappeared,” you say, thankful when your sudden proximity doesn't make him retreat. “I’m sorry I scared you last week. I guess I got excited, and… you can't understand me, can you?”

Din smiles at you again, giving you a full view of his sharp and pointed teeth. They’re almost sharklike. He reaches up, taking your hand carefully, like he’s nervous.

You think he might be– you think that might be the explanation for his strange behaviour. Maybe it isn't just the nature of merfolk, maybe Din is just shy. The thought makes you smile, the idea that this gorgeous, dangerous creature could be shy or nervous. It's more than a bit endearing.

Then he speaks again, and even the rough timbre of his voice can’t ease the shock at the word coming from his soft lips, “Fuck.”

Your brows knit together as you tilt your ear toward him, certain you’ve misheard. “Sorry?”

He says it again, seeming insistent. He gently grabs your ankle, guiding you to sit down on the dock. You’re still reeling from his sudden cursing, too shocked to stop him as he moves you so your legs are dangling off the edge of the dock.

“Where did you learn that?”

(He probably learned it from you, shouting it late at night while you touch yourself, but you don't really have the brain function to piece that together while you're still reeling from the fact he's learned it at all.)

He says it again, and as he begins to tug your shoes off you begin to think he may know exactly what it means. He sets your boots down on the dock and looks intently at you, resting his hands on your clothed thighs. For a creature you’ve decided is shy, he’s being awfully bold. You stare at him with wide eyes and parted lips, willing him to suddenly know your language so he can confirm your suspicions.

“Yes?” He prompts, and it's well enough.

And really, you should probably say no. You don't know him. You don't know where he’s been. You don't know his actual intentions. He could be asking permission to drag you under and eat you. But it's obvious what he’s asking, right?

And god you want it, you want it bad. It's been so long since anyone else touched you, and at this point you’d take it even if it meant drowning. Especially coming from such a gorgeous creature. There are worse ways to go.

So you nod, hurriedly undoing the clasps on your overalls and shifting away from him so you can take them off, leaving you only in your t-shirt and panties. They’re not exactly sexy, but judging by the lust darkening Din’s eyes, your fishy partner doesn't much mind.

He trails his wet hands over the expanse of your thighs, taking in every inch of them. It takes you a moment to realise that he's probably never been this close to any legs before. He’s admiring them and amazed by them, and you shiver when he drags his tongue over the skin.

(Or, he’s seen plenty of legs before from drowning and eating people, and he’s savouring the taste of them before he bites a chunk out of you. He’s got those sharp jaws for a reason. Still, you somehow don't mind if that's your fate.)

His tongue is long and wet, noticeably longer than any human tongue. It would be easy, from this angle, to forget that he has the bottom half of a fish until he opens his mouth. But his tongue laving over your thighs and the slight scrape of his teeth wrenches you back to the reality that you may be about to let this supposedly-mythical beast eat you out.

Or… maybe you’re just letting him lick your thighs. He doesn’t seem to be paying much mind to your pussy at all, actually. You think it’s possible he may be fooled by the concept of underwear. So as he damn near gnaws at your thigh, you shift slightly to tug them aside. Din sees your movement and pulls away from your leg, brown eyes filling with lusting curiosity.

His eyes are on your fingers as you pull your panties aside and tuck the crotch of them between your pussy and your thigh. Din’s eyes dilate, and you can tell he recognises just what it is. It's just what he was after, to eat in one way or another.

Before you can do much else Din grabs your legs, talons digging ever so slightly into your thighs but not breaking skin, and tugs.

You yelp, scrambling for purchase as he yanks you off the edge of the dock– this is it, you think, you’ve just invited this creature to drag you to the depths to your unfortunate wet death.

As you begin to come to terms with your imminent end, though, he stops, leaving your top half still above the surface. You’re distantly thankful that it's a somewhat warm day so you won't get hypothermia from the water if you end up surviving this.

With more careful hands, like he heard your frightened yelp, Din turns you around so you can brace your arms comfortably on the surface of the dock.

Oh, you realise. He wasn't trying to drown you. He was only trying to do this in his domain. If you had the brain for it you might think it were some territorial thing, which it is, but any thoughts in your head are melted away by the sudden drag of his lengthy tongue through your folds.

A strangled sort of noise leaves your throat, and your eyes pop open at the hot muscle dragging appreciatively along your pussy. Even if he hasn't ever seen a human pussy before, it evidently can't be much different from a mermaid’s from the way he seems to know what to do with it. His arms wrap around your thighs to hold you in place, and you’re left digging your nails into the worn down wood to hold you up.

Because you’ve forgotten how to be, you’re far from quiet. You cry out when his tongue brushes over your clit, the strange feeling of it being played with underwater like this heightening the feeling.

(Somehow it's so much more than when you touch yourself in the bath, maybe because the water is cold, or because it's a foreign body, or maybe because the man doing it is used to doing it underwater.)

His tongue is rough, like wet sandpaper (but of a low, worn-down grit), and it laps reverently at your clit. Din’s mouth refuses to leave your pussy, and the delighted shouts of pleasure refuse to stay in your mouth. You think that he can probably hear it beneath the current, because he only begins to suck at it more fervently.

“Fuck!” You hear yourself scream, before Din finally leaves your clit so just his nose bumps against it. He gives you barely a second of soft licks at your hole before he’s plunging his tongue into it. Your nails drag against the dock as your scream of delight is trapped in your throat.

How is it that Din’s tongue delves so much deeper than your fingers ever have? It prods deeper than anything that's gone in there in months, fills you more perfectly than several of your fingers ever have. It’s like his tongue was made just to fit in your pussy, to find the spot that drives you insane with such little effort. You can't even begin to wonder about his cock.

He laps at your hole, his large nose prodding against your clit as your entire body goes tight. Your thighs clamp around his head and you sob his name.

“Din!” You scream, body trembling. “I’m-”

There’s no sense in warning him when it hits you so suddenly, probably more surprising to you than it is to him. Your vision goes white and you let out a guttural groan, forehead banging down against the wood as you writhe in pleasure, pussy trying to milk Din’s tongue.

(You won’t have the cognitive function to realise it until hours later, but his tongue has stopped moving for how hard your cunt is clamped down on it.)

When your vision returns in spots and you find the ability to breathe again, Din’s tongue continues. You whine, scrambling against the dock to pull your oversensitive cunt away from his mouth. His arms only clamp down harder on your thighs, holding you in place.

You gasp, tears blurring your vision as you manage to reach down into the water and tug harshly on his hair. That seems to give him the hint he needs to give your poor pussy a moment to breathe. In a second, his mouth has pulled away and left you dreadfully empty. With gentle hands and strong arms, he lifts your body back onto the dock and rolls you onto your back.

You stare at the blue sky, panting. His hands trail gently over your thighs again, rubbing them in soothing circles. You lift your head just in time to see him press a kiss to your sensitive pussy, like a kiss to a lover. You can't help but feel a bit charmed by the gesture, until he suddenly clamps his jaw down on your inner thigh. You yelp in an odd mix of pain and offence, but before you can say anything, he’s slithering off the dock and back into the water.

You want to scramble after him, but your limbs feel like lead– which is quite the accomplishment considering you’ve built up the stamina for several orgasms in one go. So, instead of fruitlessly trying to draw him back to the surface to tell him off, you flop onto your back and close your eyes, too pleased to really process that you just came on a merman’s tongue.

#to the person who said they'd love a slow burn sorry but we r eating pussy!!#din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin/reader #merman!din djarin #din djarin #my work #the mandalorian #the mandalorian/reader #smut #din

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heejinkwan · 2 months

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[ STELLARS — a guide to astella’s fandom . ]

WHAT ARE STELLARS ? ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ stellars is the name given to the fanbase of kpop idol astella , the name was given to fans on january 10th , 2022 – three months after her debut . the fanbase is known for being fairly nice to get along with , only getting rowdy when it’s time to ‘ defend heejin ‘ . they’re very loyal , quite literally known for getting astella out of ‘ nugudom ‘ , convinced her company to have her perform at coachella , although she didn’t headline , it was still an amazing achievement for her . they even have their own community on twitter (x) , called stellars!

THE OFFICIAL STELLARS COLOURS ! ... the official colours for stellar are the swan ( #FCD417 ) , the sun ( #FF709C ) &&. the cyclop ( #FE8650 ) . each color is meant to represent astella’s growth ; her time in promise being the swan , first year as a soloist being the sun , and the cyclop being her revenge (reputation) era , the one she’s currently in .

THE OFFICIAL STELLAR LIGHTSTICK ( insp. venusvity ) ! ... THE FIRST lightstick , also known as the stellabong , was the very first light stick that dropped 2 months after astella’s initial debut in 2021 and came free with the physical album copy . stellars absolutely loved the design of the lightstick , it’s chargeable and can change into three different colors when you press the button , it is still available on astella’s website to this day .

THE ORIGINAL lightstick was released a month after the stellabong , it’s the only lightstick that stellars have where there is a handle. it’s known to be the least favorite light stick out of the the generations , although it is still used when astella performs on inkigayo or music bank , this really played into the mermaid feel a little bit , her international fans aren’t very fond of it , but her korean fans like it . the current retail price is $34 USD ( ₩45,307 ) , although as of 2024 it isn’t bought as much . however , at concerts astella still uses it whenever she can!

THE LATEST stellabong was release early june 2022 , just in time for astella’s performance at lollapalooza paris , replacing the previous one after a year run to mark the start of the ‘ revenge era ’ . simply being a modified version of the first gen stellabong , fans enjoyed improved shaping and quality , they definitely think this one is the best lightstick out of all three , it looks pretty , and just like the first one can change colors! the current retail price is 65$ USD ( ₩86,617 ) , astella likes to keep the prices of the lightstick’s in range so that most of her fans are able to afford it . but , there are still resellers in the fandom who either sell the lightstick for more or a cheaper price .

WHAT IS STELLARS FAVORITE ERA? ... NOBODY KNOWS is the most popular era out of all of astella’s comebacks so far , she gained tons of fans during this era and going viral almost every day thanks to her beauty . in a fan vote , 50.5% of stellars said they liked this era the best . ever since this era started , stellars started to get the ‘ stellars are so toxic ‘ treatment , they don’t care , they obviously act the way they do because of all the things heejin has been through . she also is active a lot on bubble and instagram threads , where she talks abiht things behind the scenes .

SUGARCOAT comes second in terms of popularity , having been voted by 45.1% of fans . most of this popularity stems from the fact that she just got out of her contract with her old company , almost getting blacklisted , and her name being infamous for the amount of months she was gone , a lot of the streams from this song , which garnered over 70 million views , came from people hate watching , wanting to see what’s all the hype about , but they ended up loving the song . before nobody knows became the best era in stellars eyes , sugarcoat was their roman empire .

QUEENDOM , is in third place , with a whopping 5.05% , queendom was the era of heejin being in promise , stellars don’t even want to talk about astella being the group . a lot of them like to pretend she was never in the group and was always a soloist after finding out in the lawsuit she made against her old company of the way she was treated , stellars don’t hold anything against the girls! a lot of them are still fans of them , they just won’t hesistate to hate on the company , a lot of ‘ toxic stellars ‘ would berate the members , saying they should’ve said something about her mistreatment but seeing how they really had no power stellars understand why the girls didn’t say anything . but it is thought to be known that the members still support her and astella does the same .

very much inspired by @mvneaten btw! it’s this post!

#◟ ⋆ 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐗 𝐈𝐒 𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐃 › development !#◟ ⋆ ◟ ⋆ 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐗 𝐈𝐒 𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐃 › heejin kwan !#fictional idol community #fictional idol oc #fake kpop addition #fake kpop gg #kpop oc #fake kpop girl group #fake kpop group #fake kpop member #fake kpop oc #fake kpop soloist #fake kpop company #fake kpop idol #fictional kpop oc #fictional kpop community #fictional kpop idol #fictional idol group

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lullabyes22-blog · 10 months

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Silco Headcanons - NSFW🦈💕💀

Dating Silco headcanons🦈💕💀

Dating Sevika headcanons🐉💕

Jinx Headcanons💣

Mel Headcanons 🦊

Sevika Headcanons 🐉

Silco Headcanons Part I and II 🦈

Heavy NSFW - Dirty talk, bondage, sadism, mind-games, general awfulness

Some men are patterned lovers: a certain way of touching, kissing, fucking, with only minor variations. They know what they like, what they're good at, and rarely venture off the beaten track.

Silco is not one of them.

Despite his outward veneer of control, the bastard thrives on unpredictability. He's also got a taste for exploring the taboo and pushing both social and psychological boundaries. Definitely one of those people who believes in leaving both morality and political correctness at the bedroom door.

If you’re in the bedroom at all.

The downside to this attitude is a restless boredom once routine sets in. It also means that he discards his partners (playthings) without batting an eyelid, and is always on the prowl for more stimulation.

Sex for his younger self was once a form of intimacy and connection-building. For his older self, it's a means of ownership and an insidious tool of control. Think of how a mermaid's song lures you deeper into the waters. Then the waves fill your head, your eyes, your lungs, and swallow you inside-out.

That's sex with Silco in a nutshell.

Abandon sense, all ye who enter.

He initiates the way he does everything else.

Talking.

He has no preferred pattern: it can be anything from banter to argument to insults. In each case, the aim is singular. It's meant to destabilize you - and make your whole body pay attention.

In the middle of a businesslike discussion in his office, you might feel a cool skim of fingertips on along your thigh and the dark chill of a whisper in your ear: "Since my lunch is late, I'll just have to feast on you. And what better place than on my desk?"

Or in the middle of an argument, he might seize you by the nape of your neck, corner you against the wall, and hiss, "Let's see if that mouth is good for more than backtalk. Get on your knees. Now."

Or bent over his knee, your legs dangling and the blood rushing to your head as his hand moves languidly over your welted ass, he'll murmur, "I can't decide what's the prettier sight. You, choking down tears. Or choking down my cock."

His verbal play is always aimed squarely at what's between your ears - because that's the fastest feedback loop to sparking what's between your legs. He's also practiced at tailoring his approach depending on who he's with, what they respond to, and what he wants from them.

On a dime he can be courteous or crude. Patient or possessive. Tender or terrifying.

For instance, he might notice your fondness for family anecdotes and accurately deduce that your walls come down when transported back to the idyllic era of childhood. He’ll engineer a situation where you feel like an innocent again, and trust him wholeheartedly… all the better to inveigle his way into your pants.

Or he might notice you're ultra prudish, and have a ramrod’s need to be in control - only to put you in a situation where you're utterly at his mercy, thereby stripping away both your inhibition and resistance, so he becomes your sole anchor to sanity.

Or he'll observe you have an innate desire to help others, then manufacture a façade where he's the needy one, and confess how you are indispensable to him, and must help him with X or Y. All the better to stoke your ego and lure you into his web.

The aim of each strategy is sexual. But it's the same approach he employs in the boardroom, in the back-alleys, and in the streets. He preys on what people want, and convinces them he's the door to what they desire: transgression, freedom, strength, salvation etc.

In terms of foreplay, it's as colorfully varied as everything else he enjoys.

With his tarts and toys, he's purely into self-gratification. After all, he's shelled out coin for it - and expects his money's worth. In those settings, he's rough and straightforward - very much, Wham-bam-there's-your-tip-my-crew-will-see-you-out. Even his conversation is tersely monosyllabic: "Strip, kneel, suck, there, harder, fuck, take it, come."

With a fun fling, he's much more wryly accommodating, albeit still calling the shots. But he will go through the dance of give-and-take, and take an interest in what gets his partner hot. "If you'd like me to stop, do share. If you'd like more-" A crooked little smile. "Beg."

With a partner he actually cares about (!?), the foreplay is in motion from the moment he's in your company. He'll be much more attuned to moods, receptive to body language, and softer in his overall approach. During the act itself, expect spontaneous generosity and lots of patience. Even his wordplay will be different - almost reassuringly simple. "Sssh. Take all the time in the world. I'm right here."

Re: penetrative sex - once again, it varies. On the whole, he prefers it rough, and enjoys a little pain mixed in with the pleasure: giving or receiving. His affinity for water also comes out in his rhythm: languid or brutal, a rolling tide or a punishing tempest, depending on his mood.

The man has a black cauldron of rage bubbling inside, and has spent a good decade microdosing on Shimmer.

Suffice it to say: there's some serious snap in those hips.

With his tarts, he's all about chasing his own high: just a good hard dicking until he's shot his wad. No real banter: just a sensory instruction-manual of grunts and gasps: "Take it", "Move your arse", and "So fucking good".

With a fling, he's attentive, but keeps a check on his libido, a corner of his mind always focused on observation, leverage - and that perpetual edge of mockery. At certain points, he'll slow down or stop altogether right when the going gets good. When his partner starts bucking or clenching to maintain friction, he'll chuckle "Eager, are we? Where's the rush?" and continue the grinding torture until they're a quivering wreck - right before he pounds them into jelly.

With a lover he's fond of, he'll tend to switch it up, depending on his mood and their desires. At times, he'll be so dreamlike as to verge on doting. Plenty of smooth, deep, languid strokes and praise practically spoonfed like dark honey into the ear. "Ssh. Let me take care of it, petal. Just let go." Other times he will pin them facedown into the sheets and absolutely wreck them - as much for his pleasure as theirs. "Mine. Only me. You belong to me."

In all cases, he is unapologetic in what he wants, and can be a demanding beast - especially if you're being coy.

"Want more?" he'll whisper, right before he slaps your ass red. "Beg for it."

He's flexible in terms of positions. His favorite is doggy-style. It lets him control the pace, leaves his hands free to roam, and to see his partner's expressions if there's a mirror ahead. The view of your ass is a fetching bonus.

Preferred orifices: down the throat or up the ass. Less mess afterward, and more peace of mind.

Fundamentally, he enjoys pushing limits - both his own and his bedmates. It's less about the act itself, more the visceral honesty it evokes. He's also got a range of kinks. Bondage, blindfolds, and edgeplay are a given. But he equally enjoys voyeurism, choking, sensory deprivation, impact/knife and temperature play - as well as multiple partners.

In fact, his favorite game is to push two playthings together, then step back to savor the fireworks: at once the spectator and the master of ceremonies.

As for oral, he's a devotee to both sides of the coin. He likes suckjobs - a lot - and takes them with an attitude of idle entitlement. One moment his fingers will be playing with your hair, the next he'll coax you to kneel right under his desk. "Mmm, that's it, sweet. Harder. Like that. All the way down."

He also likes giving suckjobs. He's patient, canny, and has a filthy tongue. He enjoys edging his partners, and has a cruel streak for orgasm denial. It's as if he has a vested interest in making you beg, even when he's the one on his knees. "What's that, tartlet? You want to come? Hmm. I don't know. I quite like the view." A hand caressing your face - right before he hooks a couple fingers into your mouth. "Now be quiet. You're not finished until I am."

To summarize, Silco is a psychological sadist. His aim is to deconstruct your mind, and decouple your defenses. Sex is less a way to assert power so much as a way to demonstrate its fluidity. It's also a form of violence - whether it's a palm circling your throat or a voice husking commands in your ear.

If you want him as a lover, you should come armed with an attitude of unshakeable self-confidence. He's never met anyone he couldn't bend to his will, but there's nothing more attractive to him than a strong-willed playmate. He's also attracted to partners with a smart attitude and a stubborn streak of independence. Be prepared for him to bait you to the breaking point. Beware that once he's got you vulnerable, he'll have you so convinced he's all you need that you'll beg him to keep you.

And be forewarned:

“Like everything in Zaun, nothing comes without a price.”

#arcane #arcane league of legends #arcane silco #silco #silco headcanons #silco headcanon #silco x reader #fanfic #forward but never forget/xoxo #forward (never forget)/xoxo

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sameheart-sameblood · 8 months

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Turn of the Tide

pairing: wojchek x f!reader

summary: wojchek discovers you've disguised yourself as a man to work aboard the demeter and agrees to keep your secret. he begins treating you different than the other crewmates and you confront him about his unfair behavior

words: 2.8k

warnings: angst, mentions of reader's sad background, chest binding, fluff, me not knowing anything about ships and what happens on them

a/n: popping in to say i'm not dead, just depressed and busy lol. truly grateful to this character for pulling me out of my fic slump. im back to once again make a grumpy fictional man way softer than he was ever meant to be hahaha. also guess im obsessed with david dastmalchian now?? didn't have that on my 2023 bingo card tbh

read on ao3!

Sailors believe in many things. A red sunrise can send them into a panic, anticipating the swells and overbearing winds they’re so sure are to come. Red skies at night, however, can make even the most pessimistic crewmate believe there’s fair weather on the way. Captains refuse to set sail on Fridays, sailors place coins under the mast for good fortune and mariners daren’t whistle lest they summon a storm. Many vessels even have a cat aboard, the little creatures seen to bring luck (and sharp teeth to lessen the rat population).

Sailors believe in many things but above all they can agree that a woman on board is bad luck. Which seems silly to you because here you are, a woman who’s been on board The Demeter for many months now. Your presence had not brought ill fortune to the vessel. In fact, the weather had remained pleasant, despite the late summer month’s usual downpours and hurricanes.

Granted none of the crew knew you were a woman. You had disguised yourself as a man, hair cut short and chest bound tightly, but that didn’t change the fact of your sex. A life of adventure on the seas had always called to you but there was no possibility of you being granted work on a ship. The only woman allowed onboard was the carved wooden figurehead of a mermaid that decorated the bow of a vessel. There was no place for you at sea.

Not one to take no for an answer, you found your own way to get work as a sailor. You had spent time aboard trading ships, learning the ways of the trade and earning the trust of the men you crewed alongside. Your last posting had gone so well that the captain of that ship had recommended you to a friend for your next job.

That friend had turned out to be Captain Eliot of The Demeter. Captain Eliot and his First Mate, Wojchek, had asked you a few questions, all of which you answered confidently. The Captain was a kind man who remarked positively at your experience. The First Mate, however, was standoffish, challenging your every answer. Wojchek frowned slightly as the Captain offered you the posting and as they walked away you heard him mutter, “He’s too scrawny, Captain. He won’t be able to pull his weight.”

Captain Eliot had only chuckled, “I thought the same thing when I hired you. Look how wrong I was. You must learn to give people chances, Mr. Wojchek.”

While you appreciated the Captain’s confidence, you made it your mission to show this Mr. Wojchek just how mistaken he was. And for a time, your life aboard the ship was simple. You performed your duties well, befriended the men, took initiative and came to be seen as one of the more ambitious members of the crew. Even Wojchek had to admit, although never to your face, that your were one of the better sailors who had worked under him.

That good will you had earned was probably the only thing that kept the First Mate from throwing you overboard when he found out who you really were. Your secret was discovered when Wojchek had walked in on you unannounced and had discovered you securing your chest binding. After much fussing, he had threatened to toss you off at the next port.

You had pleaded with him to show some kindness and let you stay. Eventually, Wojchek reluctantly agreed to let you remain aboard but warned that he couldn’t help you if the rest of the crew found the truth about you. You had promised him that if you were discovered, you would never let on that he had been any the wiser.

The two of you came to an uneasy agreement and work continued, albeit now with a strained air between you. The men would often remark how the first mate would give you the hardest tasks. You had to agree with them. It did feel like Wojchek was taking out his frustration on you. After one particularly grueling day where he had assigned you to a back to back deck watch, you knew you had no choice but to confront him.

******

You find him in the tiny room assigned to the First Mate of the ship . It was one of the few luxuries he was given on the boat. Whereas you and the other sailors slept where they could in hammocks tied between posts and amongst the cargo, Wojchek had a tiny room all to himself. He even had a porthole, something he takes great pride in.

You hear him groan as you continuously knock on the door, disrupting his peace. Footsteps approach and the door squeaks open. Wojchek grimaces down at you.

“What is it, sailor?”

“I need to speak with you, sir.”

“I don’t have time. Neither do you. It’s nearly your watch.”

“I’m not due on deck for a good while yet.”

“We can talk later. Be on your way.”

He starts to close the door but you push against it, anger surging through you at his dismissal. You barge into his room, slamming the door behind you. Wojchek’s eyes widen for a moment, caught off guard by your boldness. But a moment later, he’s back to his usual gruff self. He glowers, backing away from you like you carry a disease he’s worried is catching.

“This isn’t appropriate.”

“Why? Because I’m a woman?”

“Keep your voice down!”

“It’s not a dirty word.”

“It is when you are disguised as a man on a ship. I’ve kept your secret and I’ll continue to do so. If any of the others were to find out, though…”

“I’ve been sailing with these men for nearly a year. They’re my friends but they’re not the most observant. I think my secret is safe. Besides, if they found out…” you lead off, shrugging your shoulders.

Wojchek’s face darkens at your blasé attitude. “You think these men are your friends? They would turn on you the second they found out the truth about you.”

“That’s not true,” you retort, “just because you hate me doesn’t mean they would.”

“When did I ever say I hate you?”

“You don’t have to. The way you treat me is proof enough. The others may not have realized I’m a woman but they have started to notice you seem to give me the worst tasks and the most watches. They know you don’t like me. Sooner or later, they’ll really try and figure out why. You might be the one that reveals my secret to them without meaning to.”

“I don’t hate you, I…”

He looks at you. Really looks at you, something he tried not to do very often once he noticed how catching sight of you made his heart skip a beat. His shoulders tense as he stares into your bright, vulnerable eyes, so out of place in a sailor.

“You have no idea what a life at sea does to you.” He anticipates the retort you have ready to throw at him and holds up a silencing hand, imploring you to let him finish. “You’ve been on The Demeter for almost a year. No small feat for anyone, man or woman. You’re a good sailor. One of my best. People like you all start out the same, hungry for adventure. They see a life sailing from place to place as an answer to all their problems. And for a time, they’re happy. But eventually, the work breaks you. It keeps you from your family, from your friends. People on land move on while you’re away for months, even years at a time. ”

Wojchek pauses, all the fight leaving him. “When you come back to port, you look for those who promised they’d always be there for you but one day they don’t come back. The ship’s arrival to land no longer brings hope and the sea can no longer mend the hurt that’s inside you. ” He lowers his gaze, perhaps remembering those whom he’s lost over the years.

“The light leaves the men’s eyes once they realize that their world has shrunk to the size of this ship. They have nowhere else they belong. It’s suffocating. They grow resentful. I don’t want that for you. I don’t want to see the light leave your eyes.”

The whiplash of it all makes your head spin. You’ve been so convinced these last few months that this man hates you. Now he’s speaking to you more than he has this whole year. Not only that, it seems the worry over your wellbeing has cost him sleep. More so than a First Mate is supposed to spend worrying about a subordinate…

The light in your eyes? Honestly, you didn’t know that was something you possessed. Maybe a glint of steely determination but you would never have called it anything akin to hope. Your life had always been hard. Being born a woman made life a constant struggle. Being born a poor one made it near impossible.

Wojchek hasn’t moved, still close enough that you can feel the heat coming off of him in the crisp autumn night air that seeps through the tiny cracks in the ship. His eyes, however, keep jumping between your face and the floor. What he’s said has finally sunk in and along with it, his shame of wearing his heart on his sleeve.

You keep your voice low as not to scare him. Seeing the usual rock of a man so skittish makes you approach your next words with the same precision as someone handling explosives. “I was born in squalor to a family that saw my existence as nothing more than a burden. I spent most of my days wondering where my next meal would come from and if I’d have somewhere to sleep. I learned to deal with my lack of means. The thing I never could get over was the fact that I had no one in my life who cared if I lived or died.”

This is nothing you haven’t thought before but something about saying it aloud takes your breath away. A pressure grows in your chest as you fight the emotion that comes with revealing your own secrets. Wojchek doesn’t make it any easier, his once darting gaze now fixed intently on you. It’s your turn to avoid his dark eyes, staring at your shoes as you continue.

“I was never truly happy until I came on The Demeter. I have food, my own bed, purpose, adventure…friends,” the last word almost doesn’t make it past your throat, now tight with emotion. “I finally feel like I have a home.”

It’s only fair that you tell him the whole of your truth seeing how he’d kept your secret for the last few months. He deserves that much. The tension in the room swirls thick but you aren’t sure if it’s because the First Mate is preparing to send you away or not. You wouldn’t blame him if he did throw you off the ship. With you gone, everything could return to the way it was. It might be better for everyone.

You become lost in your own dark thoughts. Wojchek reaches out a hand, brushing your hair, shorn short and shaggy as part of your disguise, off of your face. You close your eyes at the touch, savoring the feel of his calloused fingers skimming so gently across your skin. All too soon, he’s pulling his hand away, remembering himself.

“The Demeter is also the only home I’ve ever known,” Wojchek admits, “It’s a good ship and she’s been strong and true to me. If you’re sure this is where you want to be then you’re welcome to stay as long as you like.”

You nod your thanks, tears threatening to spill again at the relief of knowing you don’t have to leave. When they begin to roll down your cheeks despite your efforts to keep them hidden, Wojchek tuts softly, “Everything will be alright, kotku.”

You may not know the meaning of the word but you can understand from the tenderness in his eyes that it’s a term of endearment in his native tongue. The realization makes you bold.

“It’s not just the ship or the crew that make The Demeter my home. It’s you.” You force yourself to maintain eye contact with Wojchek, fighting the instinct to look away. The though that he may not return the strength of your feelings sends a shiver of fear through you but you need him to understand how you feel.

Wojchek searches your face for some deceit but finds only raw truth. He takes a step forward mere inches between you now. His hands twitch to reach for you again but he holds himself back. Above all else, Wojchek is a professional. Just because he thinks you want him doesn’t mean he’ll take the risk of abusing the power imbalance between you.

Instead, you take the initiative. “May I kiss you, Mr. Wojchek?” It comes out as nothing more than a whisper but he nods. You lean in, teetering on your toes, never realizing how tall he actually was until now. A particularly strong wave hits the ship and you lose your balance. Before you can lose your footing, he has you in his arms.

Wojchek hikes you up, bringing your face level to his. Years of working the ship have made him strong as an ox and he thanks the gods that he finally has good use for the muscles that hide beneath his tunic.

You press your lips to his and it takes you a few moments to remember to breathe. The kiss is trepidatious and sweet but leaves your stomach swirling with butterflies. Wojchek’s grip tightens on you, scared he’ll find that you’ve been some sprite in his dream that the morning sun will chase away. It feels good to be pressed together like this, limbs intertwined so you’re not sure where you end and he begins.

All too soon, he breaks away, gasping slightly. It seems you weren’t the only one who forgot how breathing works. The sight of the usually stern man so undone by a chaste kiss makes you chuckle. Your hand grazes his cheek, running over his stubble. It’s strange to remember that just an hour ago you were convinced Wojchek wanted nothing more than to throw you overboard. Now he’s holding you like he’ll never let you go. How quickly life can change for the better.

The tranquility is broken by the banging of Olgaren resonating through the wood of the ship. Your watch will soon begin and if you aren’t there to take your post, someone will come looking for you. The ship won’t sail itself and you sigh, realizing you can’t put off your responsibilities in favor of staying with Wojchek all night.

The First Mate groans, “Stay a little longer.”

“I’m late as it is!” You smile at his pout. It’s a new expression you’ve never seen from his before and you push him down onto his tiny bed, kissing him once again. Another bang resounds through the ship and you whine, getting back to your feet.

“I’ll make Abrams cover your watch.” Wojchek offers, staring up at you with comically pleading eyes.

“You’ll have a mutiny on your hands if you come between that man and his sleep. Besides, it’s only four hours. You can even come visit me on deck if you like. It’s single watch so there won’t be anyone around to wonder why we’re together.”

“Four hours?” he grumbles.

“You’re the one who assigned me double watch!”

Wojchek leans back, watching you button your jacket, trying your best to look presentable. He can’t help but smile at the commitment to your work ethic. “I’ll be up as soon as you relieve Olgaren.”

You nod, trying to remove the smile plastered on your face but failing miserably. Hopefully Olgaren is too tired to ask questions when he sees you. “See you soon.”

You’re about to open the door when you remember something. “What does kotku mean?”

Wojchek smiles, “Little cat.”

Once again you’re struck by the sweetness of a man so eager to have the world call him unfeeling. The nickname makes sense. You yourself believe that your presence seems to bring fair weather and good luck to the boat. The Demeter might not have a four legged feline to bring fair fortune but you’re the next best thing; positive, tenacious and willing to do anything for the good of the ship and crew.

You grin at Wojchek, who now lounges happily on his tiny bed, looking somewhat feline himself. “Are you sure you want to call me that? A ship can never be without a cat. It’s bad luck. You’ll never be rid of me.”

Wojchek smiles contentedly, blinking slowly, sleep seemingly not far off. The chances of him joining you on deck for the evening appear to be dwindling. You’d be devastated if he didn’t look so adorable. He nods, beckoning you for one last kiss goodbye. “Good. I’ll keep calling you kotku so we never have to be apart.”

******

#brb on my way to become a sailor so i can meet a grumpy first mate of my own #also it's criminal how little of wojchek was actually in the movie :/#wojchek x reader #wojchek x you #wojchek #last voyage of the demeter #allie writes

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neptunes-sol-angel · 2 years

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Messages From your Dreams ☁️🌌

This is a pick a card reading meant to give you insight about what your dreams are trying to tell you.

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Pile One

Possible things that you're seeing in your dreams: your mother or a maternal figure, disney characters, anger, rocks, forrests and other outdoor scenery, synchronicities involving the number five, trapped, grief, loss, being watched or you witnessing something, technology, leaves, falling, stork, music, weird symbols, premonitions, an account balance, an eclipse.

Your dreams are manifestations of guilt that you feel over something or someone that was lost. There's a need to stop trapping yourself with resentment over situations that were out of your control. "I could've done something"—"I could've done this"—"I could've done that". There's a specific case that I'm picking up where childhood wounds are resurfacing, maybe you had a parent that showed disdain for you instead of love and support, maybe you're thinking of all of the ways that you could've defended yourself from them, but your subconscious is urging you to release the anger that you feel. It's ok to be angry with what happened to you, but your anger is being misdirected. You're mirroring the same harshness that was inflicted onto you by becoming your own oppressor. It's time to take initiative for a new beginning for your healing by taking note of what was missing that you really needed growing up, and taking that Intel to reparent and nurture yourself. Use this self awareness and knowledge for breaking free from your pain, instead of using it for revenge. Justice will correct this situation faster when you release.

Pile Two

Possible things that you're seeing in your dreams: Luna moths, bodies of water, water running down the sink, random rays of light, deities (strongly picking up Aphrodite), cigarettes, fairies, slow motion, an ambush, space closing in on you, grandfather clock, delicate hands, someone gesturing you to come forward, someone offering you something, really long vines, or giant plants.

Your dreams are trying to convey to you that you need to pause before going forward with something. Maybe you're in a tight situation or running out of time with something so you're clinging to the first approaching opportunity that seems like a solution for you. Your dreams are trying to reassure to relax, that you're safe, and you have time. You could be overworking yourself or spending too much time looking at a screen and it's messing with your anxiety. Rest both your mind and your eyes by taking a much needed break, you've done enough, now let your higher power do their part by showing you that what's for you is not going to leave you hanging. They're also urging you to have more trust in your spiritual team. Free fall in your life with faith that your guides will catch you.

Pile Three

Possible things that you're seeing in your dreams: mermaids, sugar gliders, content creating (streaming), other fuzzy animals, yin/yang sign, black and white, skunk, Jupiter, Saturn, auras, village, fish, medieval environment (maybe a past life memory), new york, secret agent, armadillo, feathers.

Your dreams are trying to confirm your suspicions about someone or at least warning you about someone who is who they appear to be. You could be gaslighting yourself in fear of people gaslighting you if you spoke up to them about this person and what's been happening. But I'm feeling some frustration here that could be from your guides. They want you to stop going to other people for their discernment when yours is basically screaming at you but you're choosing not to listen because you don't want to be looked at as someone that's crazy or projecting. Trust your first impressions of people, because I'm feeling that you had it right the first time about a certain individual who's problematic and untrustworthy. There's deception around you, but it's coming mainly from yourself by choosing to avoid your intuition. You don't need confirmations or validations from a crowd. Allow this lesson to reveal to you on how much you haven't been putting yourself first, choose yourself without worrying about who stays or leaves.

Pile Four

Possible things that you're seeing in your dreams: rain, nebulae, masks, joker/trickster/fox/white rabbit/something that you're following around, orange juice, citrus fruits, bubbles, peaches, grapes, crystals, fossils, Mario coins, bees.

Your dreams are telling you that your efforts are not in vain and that it will pay off in the near future. Your hard work is going to bring in something abundant whether that be a breakthrough in your financial situation or recognition for something that you've been passionately investing in. You could be experiencing fatigue or burn-out but your dreams are symbolically representing something that will motivate you and reward you for your patience. It'll be a significant change that will make you have more gratitude in your life because what was troubling you before will not be troubling you now. Your dreams are also trying to evoke more confidence in your abilities to make stuff happen in your life which could look like, cultivating your ideas into something real, or getting back up on your feet again after something that knocked you down for the longest.

#divination #intuitive #psychic #pick a card #oracle #spirituality #tarot #pac #pick a pile #pick a picture #psychic readings #free readings #dreams #tarot community #tarotblr

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deafchild2000 · 1 month

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Something just occurred to me: so there's a likely possibility that the planetary alignments the 2000s Mermaids endured happened as well with the 50s Mermaids (minus the Comet Eva event, that's a bit different).

Now, obviously, we have no proof of that, but given since a majority of canon believes in the timeline that Gracie, Louise and Julia turned in 1955 and - upon Gracie giving up her tail - everything ended in 1957, that would imply that the planetary alignment responsible for weather powers happened in 1957 and the 50s mermaids received them (fair enough that it's not exactly 50 years apart since the 2000s mermaids turned in 2006 and got upgraded in 2007).

With that thought, it had me wondering about the group. It would be fair to imply that maybe Louise and Co. could've managed to avoid getting upgraded powers during their second year as mermaids. Cause let's be honest: The original powers are powerful but basic & controllable once mastered. With @juicenet's fanfiction giving me some inspiration, it's possible. But it also brings in some interesting ideas.

Gracie goes first. We don't know about her family life - as an only child or an older sibling like Cleo & Emma - but two sides of the narrative can be true. She may have not initially liked being a mermaid at first but she did slowly come to appreciate it for what it was. She was a mermaid for three years, between films and photos, she must have come to a reluctant acceptance. But let's imagine Gracie got her powers upgraded. She's turned into a mermaid unsuspectedly, she has to be careful around water and that includes any activities that her family may want to do, which follows by slowly distancing herself from them. The powers might have freaked her out, and even with her two best friends to share her burdens with, she's reluctant to use them and it's maybe weeks or months before she's come to accept her tail and powers. She can sprout a tail and control water - that's it, right? (Props too if she gets the locket around this time). Then comes along a Full Moon and she gets taken with it and the next day, she comes to find out she can control the air too (and given she's called a "free spirit", the discovery could've been unexpected - meant to control water but got air instead - or emotionally driven). So suddenly, this girl who's had a drastic, lifetime change that she had to adjust and grow into now has to deal with another magical power she needs to master and discover the difference between. Then, we can imagine the downfall that led to her choosing to give up her tail. Unlike her granddaughter and Cleo, she possibly hasn't managed to control & differentiate her two powers, then Max starts becoming intrusive with his experiments - following Lewis in S2 - and who knows if her relationship with her family got worse. It would be a telling narrative if Gracie's growing distance was due to feeling isolated and growing away from the group of friends she could turn to. Being a mermaid was just becoming too much and a major inconvenience for her. Once she gave up her tail, she may have missed her friendship and still thought about her past - otherwise, she wouldn't have told stories & left artwork for Charlotte - but because she made her choice, she was able to live without the restraint brought upon with being a mermaid.

Julia is someone whose life isn't explored compared to Louise and Gracie. But working with that, if she did have events mirrored Rikki in S1 - after the Pier incident, if she indeed tried to boil him alive or destroy his property - moonstruck or not - I can see it. Ammunition for Louise to not be completely wrong for seeing Rikki in Julia. Even with the proof destroyed, Karl knew the Secret was bound to come back on her and her friends at some point. Now, let's say she got Pyrokinesis and Electrokinesis the next year. Did she discover her new powers when she simply intended to use her basic heating abilities or was it in emotional turmoil? What was her personal & family life like at that point? Did she struggle controlling her powers or did she manage to grasp them in time?

Louise Chatham is the last remaining of the 50s Mermaids. The first to meet the next generation of mermaids as well as the last one alive. She's the one who tells the story of her friends becoming mermaids and starts the reunification of the lockets Max made for them. Without knowing much of her personal history, Louise did move on & marry yet didn't leave a legacy like Gracie. Yet, she was somehow aware that a new group of mermaids had formed and where to find them, coming off as a mystique guide and using her past - a time she never truly gained closure from - to ensure the mistakes of before didn't befall Emma, Cleo, and Rikki. Like the collective, it's agreed that she had the basic ice powers as well as saved someone from drowning, making her an effective counterpart to Emma. And yet, there's the ever-present mystery of how she gave up being a mermaid & when it happened. So let's take cues from Emma, say Louise had a perfectly, full family unit. Was she the first to discover her powers or the last? Did she discover her powers by accident or was she quick to guess? Was she competitive or was she easy-going? Is there a reason she doesn't trust ocean perch that might relate to her time as a mermaid? Was she straight or a closet lesbian like the fandom seems to think? She'd been a mermaid for two years, and likely was the most accepting of her powers, so what must it have been like in 1957 to receive Cryokinesis? Was it the most convenient power or was it harder to control?

With these three possibilities to consider, with the Moon of Fifty Years right around the corner, I think there's still more to illustrate regarding the personal lives of the 50s Mermaids.

(Whether Louise and Julia were in love is openly subjective or whether liberties were taken and Gracie perhaps wasn't the only one to gain from giving up her tail - a narrative will always have more to tell if you just look.)

#h2o just add water #Louise chatham #h2o just add water julia #gracie watsford #cleo sertori #emma gilbert #rikki chadwick

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rubydoowhereru · 8 months

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Any hcs you have about Grandmama?

Rubs my little hands

Why yes, yes I do.

With the way she talks in this scene to Ruby about destiny, I'm tempted to say Grandmamah herself was a rebellious teen during her younger years before her mother ironed everything out. She gives me the vibes of 'I tried to fight it too but eventually I accepted it and you'll likely go down the same path. I'm just warning you now.'

There were absolutely times when Grandmamah wanted to visit Agatha and see her granddaughter but stopped herself from doing so. She's aware enough that her daughter didn't want her in her life anymore and knew just coming to see her granddaughter would cause issues, so choose not too despite how much she really wanted too.

I feel like after the initial fall out between their daughter, Grandmamah did a lot of self reflecting and realized all the little mistakes that she did while raising Agatha. It's what motivated her to seek therapy and why she's far more laxed when it comes to Ruby. She's trying to do better while still possessing the needed qualities of a ruling queen so people don't think she's getting soft or weak.

The desire to crush the mermaids was fueled purely by the loss of her other family members. Maybe they were her parents, or it could've been Grandmamah's siblings but either way their deaths momentarily sent Grandmamah over the edge. I feel like Agatha and Arthur leaving was what thankfully pulled her back out of it, though she still harbors that distaste for mermaids, and what started her self reflection.

Despite everything, family is very important to Grandmamah. This old queen was willing to go face to face with Nerissa to protect her daughter despite everything that's happened between them. She absolutely would've taken that trident to the neck if it meant keeping Agatha and Ruby safe from harm.

#ruby gillman teenage kraken #ruby gillman #grandmamah

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owlsong74 · 2 months

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I have like, this theory revolving dark rides and their evolution over time, and Snow White at Disneyland.

They originated as thrill rides. The very first Pretzels didn't initially rely on traditional horror imagry like skeletons, monsters, etc, but they were still meant to be scary, taking place in the pitch dark and using loud noises and even physical touch to scare riders. Horror scenes began to be used pretty quickly. They started to be themed after haunted houses and be called "spook-a-rama"s. Disney, with the exception of Peter Pan, continued this with their 50s dark rides: Snow White was a witch hunt, you die and go to hell on Mr. Toad, and the original Alice was far creepier than the Disney source material called for (see: that giant chesire cat jumpscare). American audiences would have expected dark rides, even those not themed explicitly around a haunted house, to be thrilling.

Dark rides in North America have been on the decline in most parks besides Disney/Universal since at least the 70s, with many of the old spook-a-ramas closing down for good. Modern Disney/Universal dark rides are relatively book-reportish, à la Pinocchio, Monster's Inc., Cat in the Hat, Little Mermaid, and Frozen. Even if they don't follow the source material exactly, they still focus on presenting the most iconic scenes/characters/songs from them. Why do you go on the Frozen ride? To see Elsa sing "Let it go." Since the older dark rides have been shutting down and becoming less popular, and their equivalents at Disney/Uni have been less scary, American expectations about what a dark ride contains changed.

These days, if a ride says "Snow White" in the title, they would expect it to be relatively lighthearted, featuring songs and characters from the movie in the spotlight. Instead, they got a single happy scene at the start, a short stint in the mine in the middle (with no dwarves), and a frightening witch chase for the remainder of the ride. Snow White appeared once, the dwarves twice, and the evil queen/witch 6 times! And that's probably why Disney felt they had to nerf it a few years ago. I personally miss the older, scarier incarnation, and find it part of the lamentable tendancy to use rides to support good IP, rather than IP to support good rides. But that's neither here-nor-there.

#disneyland #dark rides

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kylesvariouslistsandstuff · 2 months

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As we await to potentially hear some news on COYOTE VS. ACME - a film that might possibly be locked away forever because of executives being jackasses, let me share a piece of Disney history:

It's often written that THE RESCUERS DOWN UNDER, made at Walt Disney Feature Animation and released theatrically in 1990, was a victim of a squashed marketing campaign. The studio's first sequel, the story often goes: After the film opened with underwhelming numbers the same week as HOME ALONE, then-Chairman of the Disney film division Jeffrey Katzenberg pulled all the marketing for the film and thus left it to fade away into the Christmas season. It remained the sole disappointment of the "Disney Renaissance", sandwiched between hit films like OLIVER & COMPANY, THE LITTLE MERMAID, BEAUTY AND THE BEAST, ALADDIN, and THE LION KING.

Here are two corrections to that tale...

A) The marketing was not pulled immediately.

B) The film was deemed dead-on-arrival *well* before release.

So, a week or so after the film came out, Disney tried a "now playing" trailer that ran before other movies in auditoriums next door. It's proof that Disney didn't give up on the movie right away, and gave it one last push... But it just didn't do it, and the movie made less than half of what LITTLE MERMAID made a year earlier.

youtube

As for the film being written off (not as a tax write-off!), here's what happened.

In March 1989, Disney theatrically re-released the original THE RESCUERS that came out all the way back in 1977. This was the film's third ever theatrical release, the previous one being in 1983. A good chunk of the Disney animated classics did pretty robust business in re-issues, before they came to home video. BAMBI, for example, made over $30m in the summer of 1988, SNOW WHITE made over $46m in 1987.

The $21m gross that THE RESCUERS pulled in, in early 1989, was deemed a disappointment. THE RESCUERS DOWN UNDER was greenlit on the grounds of the original having earned the most money for a Disney animated film on its initial release. The rationale from executives after that must've been "Oh crap... We greenlit a sequel to this thing."

It was apparently too late to cancel, though, so they went through with it. If anything, it served as a good testing ground for that digital ink-and-paint software Disney Animation staff were toying with for a single shot in THE LITTLE MERMAID. A little thing called C.A.P.S. It also allowed more time on BEAUTY AND THE BEAST and ALADDIN.

THE RESCUERS DOWN UNDER went into production, but there wasn't much confidence in it before release. Even though they attached a new half-hour Mickey Mouse cartoon to it (THE PRINCE AND THE PAUPER), this was treated as a minor effort long before release. The execs were far more excited about BEAUTY AND THE BEAST, as by that point, the LITTLE MERMAID songwriting team - of course, Howard Ashman and Alan Menken - had been brought onto the movie after the previous version had been thrown right out.

So DOWN UNDER served as a stopgap, and its failing meant no more theatrical sequels (sans Roy E. Disney's pet project, FANTASIA 2000) and probably no more animated action-adventures like it. The string of movies released thereafter stuck very close to LITTLE MERMAID and BEAUTY AND THE BEAST's templates. But in the end, they got the C.A.P.S. system's success out of it, and an eventual home video hit.

Now, think about THE RESCUERS not doing great on that re-release... And DOWN UNDER's release date. March 1989, November 1990. Disney actually had plenty of time to throw that movie out, but they didn't... Whatever the reason, they didn't.

And here, today, we have David Zaslav - CEO of Warner Bros. Discovery - shelving near-complete or fully-completed movies for tax write-off purposes. Loser behavior. See the damn thing through, mate.

I could also relate the time Disney's movie division firmly determined that audiences had moved on from fairy tales, following the disappointing box office returns of THE PRINCESS AND THE FROG. In early 2010, it was made very clear that there would never be another fairy tale movie from the studio. Despite a history in making beloved fairy tale adaptations or fairy tale-like stories... Nope, it was all over. John Lasseter and Ed Catmull acting like the pallbearers, saying that Disney Animation wouldn't invest in any.

At the time, a SNOW QUEEN movie was put on ice, a JACK AND THE BEANSTALK tale had trouble taking off... but one movie was a little too far along to cancel... RAPUNZEL. And that picture had already gone through a few director changes and reinventions, which no doubt ballooned its budget over the course of three decades. There had been various goes at a Rapunzel story at Disney Animation in the late '90s and in the early-to-mid aughts, in addition to another version that was not quite approved of by Lasseter. Glen Keane, who was supposed to direct the film with Dean Wellins, stepped down. RAPUNZEL's journey to the screen was as long as her hair.

So in the final lap, in early 2010, the movie was re-titled from RAPUNZEL to TANGLED in a silly attempt to make it appeal to the audience that supposedly tanked THE PRINCESS AND THE FROG: 6-to-12 year old boys... Yeah, that was a real low point, wasn't it? Silly focus groups. I'll always get a kick out of the sketch that longtime Disney storyman/artist Floyd Norman whipped up for it in response:

But what do I know? TANGLED came out in fall 2010 and was a very popular film. Right afterwards, THE SNOW QUEEN was put back into development, as was the JACK AND THE BEANSTALK movie. As you probably know, THE SNOW QUEEN became FROZEN, while the latter - titled GIGANTIC - lumbered through development hell and ultimately got canned by Lasseter. Disney would also proceed to remake several animated fairy tales in live-action, from CINDERELLA to BEAUTY AND THE BEAST to ALADDIN.

However, Disney Animation at least completed TANGLED. And released it. Saw it through, no matter what level of confidence that the higher management at The Walt Disney Company had in it. GIGANTIC wasn't anywhere near completion when it was scrapped, as the movie had been penciled in for a Thanksgiving 2020 release, and the movie was put on the shelf in fall 2017. A good three years prior.

That's when you DO cancel something, should you ever.

Not right near completion. Or even halfway there. Looking at you, former DreamWorks management, with LARRIKINS and B.O.O. and MONKEYS OF MUMBAI-yes indeedy I still haven't forgotten about that.

Anyways, if you're almost done, just fucking complete it. Maybe down the line, it won't be much of a loss. It might even be a surprise hit.

#Youtube

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gaywalker80085 · 2 years

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Flat *kind of like a part 2 to part 2*

Natasha x reader

Genre: fluff *maybe angst if you can call it that for like 5 seconds*

Warnings: I can't really think of anything

A/N: This is a continuation of part 2 but not actually part 3 if that makes sense also sorry for taking absolutely forever to post but part 3 will be out in a day or so.

Masterlist

Part 1 Part 2

After the initial shock on Natasha's face, she quickly wiped it away. She moved her head to whisper in Alana's ear, flicking her eyes to you and smirking. She places Alana down and Alana runs off to go play in the living room.

Natasha slowly walks up to you swaying her hips as she does. She really does sway her hips at you all of the time and it still gets you. When she gets to you she wraps her arms around your neck pulling you down but just barely touching your lips.

"She wants to know if I'm your girlfriend." She says lowly against your lips. You hum in response raising your eyebrows half because you can't think of the right response and half because you can't really think of anything besides how much you want to kiss her.

"What do you think of that?" She asks giving you a soft quick kiss pulling her head back and smirking when you try to chase her lips. You're staring at her lips when you see her look up at your eyes so you meet them. She raises her eyebrows and you finally register what she said.

"I think I would like that. How about you?" That is all you say looking at her lips and then quickly back up to her eyes. She nods maintaining her smirk and whispers " I think I would like that too." She gently kisses you which you gratefully accept.

Before the kiss can get too too heated she pulls away with a hand against the middle of your chest to hold you away. She smiles widely at you and spins around to go join Alana in the living room.

You quickly follow and sit on the couch next to Natasha and put your arm around her shoulder while she leans her head on yours. You both sit there watching The Munsters and Alana playing.

After around 15 minutes you hear Alana speak up. "Y/N." "Yeah?" You respond. "Do you want to play mermaids with me?" She asks while getting up. "Yeah sure." You say putting on a smile. "Okay, I'll get my bathing suit." She says giggling before running off to her room.

"You the big bad biker are gonna play mermaids?" Natasha jests from next to you. You look at her trying to hide your dilemma. You didn't realize she meant in the pool. While you like swimming it's the beginning of summer so it's not super warm and the mosquitoes are out. Gross.

You roll your eyes standing up. "Well, I'll have you know some of my best men love playing mermaids." You tell her matter of factly. She raises her eyebrows at you "Your men? I thought everyone was pretty much equal in your little biker clubs." You didn't realize your slight slip up but you try to act nonchalant. "Yeah but I'm like the top biker of the 'club' so they're technically my men."

You can tell she's a little suspicious but she leaves it alone. "Y/N! ARE YOU GETTING READY?" You hear Alana yell from her room. You look to Natasha and point behind you to the stairs. "I have to go get ready I can't be late for mermaids." She softly laughs at you and you turn around and walk to her room.

You don't have a bathing suit so you put on a pair of boxers and go back to the living room to see Alana standing there with her hands on her hips. "About time, come." She says and you laugh as she grabs your hand and pulls you through the kitchen and through the back door.

Natasha has a decently big inground pool with a shallow and deep end. "Can you check it please?" Alana asks you. "Check it, for what?" You return. "If it's cold." She asks innocently. You walk to the side and dip your foot in when you feel her push you. It wasn't nearly enough to push you over but you indulge her and make it seem like you fell.

When you come up she's doubled over laughing and you smile wide at the scene happy to please her. When she's done laughing she looks at you with a smile. "Can you throw me in?" She says it like a question but you know that means to throw her in.

You get out and walk behind her. "Can you swim?" You ask her. "Yeah, mommy made me take classes." She says and you're content with that answer. "One. Two. Three!" You both say at the same time and you throw her in. She comes up laughing and you hop in and stay beside her just in case.

Once you're to where she can touch she starts telling you how she likes to play. "Okay, so you have to swim with your feet together and then we play games." Easy enough. You were wrong you start trying to swim with your legs and you start drowning so you opt to just use your arms.

You're both playing tag when you hear the glass door slide open. You look over and see Natasha in a black bikini with a book in hand. "Having fun?" She says looking at you both. "Yeah Y/N is really strong they can throw me," Alana says excitedly and Natasha raises her eyebrows at you. "Really strong huh. I'll see about that later."

You're standing there with your mouth open like an idiot when you feel water squirt right into the side of your head. You whip your head around and see Alana giggling super soaker in hand. She squirts you again and you stand up quickly and point to her playfully. "If you spray me again I'm going to have to throw you." You say and her smirk turns mischievous ask she sprays you right between the eyes.

"THAT'S IT!" You yell before diving after her and she screams and giggles trying to swim away but you catch her. You lift her up and she drops the super soaker curling into a ball. You throw her and she splashes into the pool. She comes up giggling and then she yawns.

She swims over to you and wraps her arms around your neck tucking her face in it. "All done." She says and you carry her out of the pool. When you get out Natasha is waiting with a towel and wraps it around Alana carrying her inside. You stand at the door realizing you are soaking wet and she didn't bring you a towel.

You've been waiting for around 20 minutes before Natasha comes back out with 2 towels and walks right past you. You turn and watch her half because you're wondering what she's doing and half to look at her ass.

She sets down both towels before walking back over to you. When she got to you she grabbed you by the hand and started leading you to the pool. You obediently followed her until she started getting closer to the stairs and you got a better idea.

You stopped walking and when she noticed she turned to you confused. You smiled and pulled her into you. She wrapped her arms around your neck and smiled back at you. You promptly scooped her up bridal style and she looked at you with wide eyes quickly figuring out what your plan was.

"Y/N, No." She said as sternly as she could muster. You started laughing and kept walking purposely going a little slower than before. Her arms tightened around your neck and she started to get more frantic. "Y/N NO, PUT ME DOWN!" She said louder. She pulled her head back and gripped your jaw before pulling you forwards and meeting your lips.

You indulged her for a moment to let her think she's won until you started walking again. She pulled back and tilted your head down so you would look into her eyes "Put me down, baby." She said softly pecking your lips. You smiled and started giggling before jumping into the pool with Natasha still in your arms.

The second she came out of the water she started hitting you in the chest. Yelling "Ugh asshole!" At you, while you just laughed so hard you thought you might drown. In order to stop her attack on you, you quickly wrapped your arms around her waist and pulled her against you hugging her tight and putting your face in her neck still laughing.

She gave up her attack and ran her nails from the bottom of your neck up to your scalp and lightly pulled your hair to get you to look up. You met her eyes and she rolled hers "Wipe that smirk off your face you little shit." She said and you laughed more. "Little? Last time I checked you're like 5'-2"" you said and she rolled her eyes and said "5'-3""

You laughed and moved to start leaving kisses along the base of her neck. You gave her a soft kiss and pulled away to look into her eyes with a warm smile that she couldn't help but return. She buried her head into your neck and wrapped her legs around your waist. "I could get used to you being around."

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Some of the tags wouldn't take idk why but I don't post much besides my actual fics if I can help it so you can turn notifications on to be safe if you'd like.

#bottom nat #natasha romanov x reader #natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanoff x you #bottom!natasha #natasha romanoff x reader #bottom nat is just so 😵‍💫😵‍💫#natasha x reader #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff x dom!reader #natasha x you #natasha romanov #natasha x y/n #natalia romanova #natasha romonova #natalia alianovna romanova

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