#and my HOT PINK blobfish

[fruityboner]

girl someone take my fucking printer at this point

[gingerlee-holds]

Pokerants: Gorebyss

im using a random pokemon generator, i think i might stick with that moving forward. i had a little trouble getting to five problems about them but i got there in the end! just had to do a bit of stretching but my physical therapist says thats healthy. anyways uhhhh i love you guys

today is Gorebyss, this fella! #0368

this is what i gleamed from the 'dex:

they live in the southern seas at extreme depths, their body withstands enormous water pressure, and they're unharmed by ordinary attacks due to its body structure

they insert their thin mouth into prey to drain the bodily fluids, they feed on seaweed between rocks, and their body color becomes vivid after feeding

they have a light pink body color, which becomes more vivid in springtime or with rising water temperatures, and in Alola, it's almost blindingly vivid

its leftover prey meat sinks to the seafloor to become food for other pokemon

and now, screaming time

firstly, the Dex states that because its body can resist high water pressure, it can resist a lot of attacks. this is friggin ludicrous, genuinely- deep-sea creatures are not plated in heavy armor, thats not how that works at all!! look at the blobfish!! if you tried to stab that thing, it would die hilariously quickly, especially if above water! deep-sea fish have flexible bodies and soft tissues, which is to say, they gotta be squishy!! the bottom of the deepest trench on earth, the Mariana Trench, has over 1000 bars of pressure, which is like 100 african elephants balancing on your head. the one thing you dont wanna be down in the deepest parts of the ocean is rigid, because you'll get crushed like a soda can - you gotta be squishy, so that when youre crushed by the pressure, you can continue living.

also,,, quick sidenote, why do Gorebyss have seashell bras? look at the picture again, why does the Gorebyss have two seashells on its thorax??? do they have fucking boobies under there?????

secondly, it sucks the body fluids out of its prey like a spider or an insect. a wha? a wha??? it sucks??? this is a good opportunity to tell you about the types of feeding habits fish in the real world can display! 1, there are the surface feeders, which eat food off of the surface of the water - these are the bettas and guppies and such. 2, there's the bottom feeders, which eat leftover debris, like catfish. 3, the herbivorous fish that eat plants (algae aren't plants, they're protists which is the catch-all category for the creatures that are too weird for taxonomists to deal with), these are fish like Crossocheilus oblongus. 4, there's the weirdos who eat algae, like Bristlenose Pleco, aka, those fuckers they keep in the aquariums who suck on the walls lmao. and 5, there are the hunters, like tetras and barbs. "sucking the bodily fluids out" like a goddamn mosquito is not one of those five!!

thirdly, the Gorebyss vividly changes color in warmer water, like one of those hot wheels cars. alright. fish changing color is something that happens in the real world, but its uncommon and usually a result of other factors, not just temperature. for instance, cuttlefish (while not being fish) change color to camouflage into their surroundings using cells called chromatophores. cuttlefish are cephalopods though so a flounder's coloration might be a better example. some fish use bright colors to attract mates, or warn predators away (like lionfish! poison dart frogs also do this, its called aposematic coloration!). a creature becoming brighter in warmer waters is more characteristic of some types of shrimp, but even then its not a vivid change like the pokedex describes

fourthly, the pokedex states in the beginning that the Gorebyss feeds by sucking the body fluids out of prey, (which may be why its name is a combination of 'Gore' and 'Abyss' ooo very dark very edgy) but then later on it states that it uses its long tubular mouth to feed on seaweed between rocks. which is it, pokemon, because those are two very different things! in nature, function always comes before form, which is to say, an animal's natural appearance is only ever because it serves a role. a mouth adapted to sucking bodily fluids (pokemon are cowards and can't say the word 'blood') and a mouth adapted to eating seaweed are very different! for instance, take a look at that picture of the Gorebyss again, look at its mouth, then close your eyes and picture Dory from Finding Nemo. pretty different, right? dory is a pacific blue tang, and blue tangs get most of their food from eating seaweed in coral reefs. those two mouths, Dory and the Gorebyss, couldn't be more dissimilar!

and fifthly, the specific detail that, when the Gorebyss finished slurpin up the juices from their prey, the carcass just falls to the seafloor to be eaten by other pokemon is a bit simplistic, i would have liked to have gotten more specific details on what happens next. yes this is pretty nitpicky but i wanted to get it up to five so leave me alone. once a marine organism dies, the scavengers (we call em detritivores in the business) get to it first: these are crabs, starfish, and the aforementioned bottomfeeders! then, it begins to decompose thanks to algae and bacteria. the food web, especially the ocean floor food web (which is overlooked too much) deserves to be recognized for its vast complexity! tell me about the bottomfeeders goddammit!!!!

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #271

“some of those who work forces are the same that burn crosses.”

Do you cook on the stove at all, or just microwave? I just use the microwave. I'm scared of the stove lmao. Do you ever debate religion with your friends? Bruuuh no. I am so disinterested in debating about something that to me ultimately doesn't matter yet humanity has made so serious. Whatever happens after we die, happens, there's that. Just be a decent human being and go out knowing you did your best to make the world better than when you entered it. Do you keep your shampoo in the shower or someplace else? In the shower. Something your mother said or did that shocked you: Like... recently? Or in my entire life? I dunno about recently, but I guess the most shocking to me was when she vehemently called my sister something I won't repeat. Did your mom go to college? She was before the cancer. Ready to graduate, too, but that didn't go as planned thanks to, y'know, cancer. Which food do you think you have the most cans of in your cupboard? Good question, no clue. I don't really pay attention to the canned foods. Maybe fruits? Do you save fortunes from fortune cookies? No. Are you offended when Christmas is spelled Xmas? Nah. Where do you put your keys when you come home? In my purse. Describe your favorite mug or glass to drink from? I don't have one. That I use, anyway. Sara gave me a Markiplier quote one that's a Holy Item on my shelf and instead of holding a beverage holds All My Love. Your bad habit that you love the most: UGH I hate how much I love soda. Invent a pop tart flavor: STORY TIME!!!! As a kid, there was this contest to design a type and you won like... a fucking huge supply of the newest flavor, which was at the time that wild berry whatever thing. My sister and I made one that I think I recall being pink with heart sprinkles and strawberry flavored, and we won. Guess who fucking hates the wild berry flavor now lmao. Okay but anyway if I was to invent one now... is there a BLUE raspberry flavor? Cuz a bitch loves blue raspberry flavored everything. Do you name your pets after tv/movie/book characters: Sometimes. I don't currently have a pet that is, though. Are you proud of yourself for what you've accomplished? The few things I actually have, sure? I'm more ashamed of what I haven't. Do you own any sexy lingerie? Nooooo no one would want to see me in that, least of all myself lmao. Have you ever caught a bouquet of flowers at a wedding before? No. Has a horse ever neighed at you before? Uhhh I don't think so? Do you prefer ice cream or sorbet? Ice cream. Have you gotten your pets spayed? My cat is. That's like... the only pet we ever have fixed, sadly. My parents/Mom (depending on time period) could just never afford it. The only real reason we managed to get Roman neutered was because our sister directed us to a cheap on-the-go business where it was like... only $45, and Roman was marking the house badly so it was pretty urgent. Would you ever take in a stray animal? HA, that is the STORY of my family with cats. At this current time, most likely not. We don't need another pet right now, nevermind one of a mysterious background with my mom being sick. When is payday? N/A Have you ever walked on a runway before? No. How long is your workday? N/A Is there a walkway or a pathway to your front door? No. What is your favorite color? What is your least favorite color? Pink is superior to all colors. I'm really not a puke-green fan, but I mean... is anyone? What color dominates your wardrobe? Everything is B L A C K. What color are your eyes? Grayish blue. Are you colorblind, or do you know anyone who is? I'm not, but Jason's brother is colorblind to I think red and blue? Do you prefer color photos or black-and white? It greatly depends on the composition and subject matter of the photograph. I find great beauty in both. If I had to pick though, color usually appeals to me more. Are you one of those people who can taste, feel, or smell colors? No. Have you ever seen a double rainbow before? Yes. Do you enjoy coloring? It tends to be my least-favorite part of the art process because that's where I always fuck shit up. Do you know anyone who is racist? Oh my, PLENTY. Welcome to the South. Are your nails painted any color(s) right now? They never are. Can you lift more than 100lbs? I probably CAN, but it would be very hard. What's your opinion on incest? It's fucking repulsive. Morally and negative from a scientific standpoint, anyway. Do you have a favorite color for cats? Orange. What video games did you play when you were younger? I was a massive gamer as a kid, teenager too, so I could put a hell of a lot here. But, I'll just imagine you're referring to when I was quite young. The Spyro games (save for Skylanders) were my LIFE, I loved Nintendogs, the Crash Bandicoot trilogy, lots of games that were based on movies (like Madagascar and Finding Nemo are two I really enjoyed), uhhh... OH! And absolutely weird, but I loved hunting games. Like, I had a whooole lot, despite hating real life hunting even as a child. I think it was because I got to see wild animals, plus it could be calming to wander and scary, too, when things like wolves found you. Oh, and then there were fishing games, too. LOOK I just love(d) games. Would you ever get a tramp stamp? I hate that nickname. Having a tattoo literally anywhere does not equate you to a stereotype. Yes, because I want to be heavily tattooed anyway. Did you cry when Michael Jackson died? No. Not that I didn't care at all, I just wasn't a giant fan. What's the ugliest species of animal? Lmao how mean. The blobfish immediately comes to mind, though. Looks like a ball of mucus shaped into an old man's face. Are you embarrassed about any songs on your iPod? I used to be, now it's just like whatever. I like what I like. What do you use to listen to music on the computer? YouTube. Do people know a lot about you? Places on the Internet sure do lmao. I try to be much more private now online to a degree, depending on where. Irl, no. I'm too easily embarrassed/afraid of being judged for what makes me, me. Who was the last person you slept beside? Sara. Do you like Metallica? They're one of my all-time favorites and I trust NOBODY who claims to hate them. What's your favorite kind of soup? I'm not a fan of soup. What’s your best friend's favorite band? Her all-time favorite is Pink Floyd. Who was the last person you took a picture with? Ummm idr. Do you play Guitar Hero? Not really anymore, but I fuckin slayed that shit back in the day. Whose house did you last visit? My older sister's. Who was the last person to come to your house? My younger sister. What time do you usually eat dinner? Anywhere between 5:30 to like... 7:00 or so. Have you ever searched your own house on Google Earth? Not this current one, no. Does it bother you when people have a loose grip on hugs? No? Some people don't like hugs. Are you looking forward to next year? I don't know. Is covid gonna be history by then? It depends on a lot of things. What have you done so far this summer? *blink blink blink* What's your favorite punk band? Honestly, I don't even really separate bands by genres now because I don't know. There's so so many, plenty overlap, etc. etc, and people - especially those who enjoy rock/metal stuff, I've found - get all snobbish and "WELL ACTUALLY" when you "misgenre" or whatever. Which is better: cold or hot weather? COLD. FUCK hot weather. Anything above ~75*F is disgusting. Is photography something you enjoy? I'm an aspiring photographer so like- What’s the best flavor snow cone? I haven't had a legit snow cone in years... but we have a place called Pelican's Snowballs, which is really just like... snow cones in a cup? They are A M A Z I N G and strawberry is to die for. When driving, are you a speed demon or do you drive like your grandmother? I don't drive because I'm terrified to. Have you ever met someone who just had you at hello? No. Bet you were expecting "Jason," but no, I was weirded out that a stranger just comes up to me in the hall on the way to class and starts talking to me. Have you ever written poetry? Yeah. Do you have any addictions? Technology, ugh. And soda, rip. When was the last time you just laid and looked at the stars? Laid, many years ago one summer when Jason and I were just lying on the trampoline while my dad was grilling. What song reminds you of an ex? A lot. What color eyeliner do you prefer? Black. What was the last thing that you made with your own two hands? Like, made from scratch? Hell if I know. What’s the deepest water you will wade into? Like, shoulder-deep in the ocean. How many blades does your razor have? Three, I think? Highest grade of education you’ve completed? Just one semester of college. Lowest grade you’ve received on a test? Yikes, Fs in college math. He taught in such an abstract way that I failed like... every test, or nearly did. I was too afraid to ask questions continuously. Do you enjoy sitting in the sun or the shade more? There is NO situation where I would rather be in the sun. Do you enjoy going to arcades? Hell yeah. What parades do you like to go to? None. When’s the last time you went on a tirade? I ranted to Mom about the fucking ridiculous anti-maskers that are a big reason this motherfucking pandemic is worsening in America. With my mom being immunocompromised, it is something I take VERY goddamn seriously. It's not a difference in opinion - it's a difference in morality. Do you like to play charades? I loved to as a kid. Now it'd feel weird. Would you ever lead a crusade? I wouldn't want to lead anything. Have your parents ever forbade you from doing something? Aha, so as a kid, I had a game demo disc that showed the preview to Parasite Eve, and my sisters and I would secretly watch it despite it scaring us to where Mom did forbid us to click on it. And all these years later, I've played it and love it... ha ha. Otherwise, my parents have always been pretty open to letting us do stuff, save for things the usual parent doesn't like, like swearing. When’s the last time someone said something degrading to you? A few days back when I got into an argument on Facebook about some asshole teasing their newly-hatched cobra to where it kept striking at the tongs, hood flared and all. Apparently I had no idea what I was talking about, pointing out the snake was clearly stressed out. What’s the last homemade dish you’ve made? I legit haven't cooked a thing since Sara was here and I made her eggs for breakfast. Which was like, a year ago. Do you like lemonade? What flavor(s)? Broooo YES. Pink lemonade is better, but I enjoy just the classic kind, too. Has anyone ever serenaded you before? Fuck this question. Would you like to visit the Everglades? Lemme see them motherfuckin GATORS. Have you ever attended a masquerade ball before? No. Would be dope, though. Have you lost anyone to AIDS? No, thank god. Have you ever been paid for sex? Hell no. Have you ever had a maid in your home before? HUNNY we are too poor for that shit. Do you know how to do different types of braids in hair? No. When’s the last time you wore a Band-aid? Where and why? I have no clue. When was the last time you were afraid? Of what? A family friend was over here a couple days ago and she had this weirdest muscle cramp in her leg that brought her to the floor gasping for like over a minute. I was super scared, and Mom was too, as we had no idea what to do. I almost had to call 911. Crazy woman hasn't gone to the doctor about it, to my knowledge. Would you ever consider growing your hair out to your waist, or longer? NOOOO NO NO. I am probably having short hair for the rest of my life. Is there anywhere in your house that you're scared to be alone in? No. What is your favorite shoe brand? I don't have one. What weird things did you do as a small child? I was just a weird kid in general. I did a lotta stuff that would make people raise a brow. Who puts the most pressure on you in your life? My goddamn self. Do you laugh off embarrassing moments? Hell no, I turn red as a cherry and probably cry once I'm in private. Do you have a favourite actor/actress? If so, who? No. Do you like little kids, or do they annoy you? I feel uncomfortable around them. They're too brutally honest, I feel like every move I make is wrong, and I just generally feel incapable of handling them properly. Do you want a small or a large family when you get older? Well, I don't want any kids, so... Are you a good dancer? If not, do you enjoy dancing anyways? No and no. I'd be embarrassed. Have you ever lied to avoid getting into trouble? Yeah. Have you ever been admitted to the hospital for a long period of time? I'd say two weeks is pretty long, and I was supposed to stay an entire month. I only got out of that by going to court. Do you take a lot of pictures of yourself, or are you camera shy? I HATE being in front of the camera. What are your choice of toppings on a hamburger? And do you prefer gas or charcoal grilling? I just like ketchup, mustard, and pickles, really. A bit of diced onion is fine, too. I prefer gas; I hate the charcoal-y taste. You are chosen to have lunch with the president. the condition is you only get to ask one question. What do you ask? Fuck that, I'd decline going to begin with. What is your concession stand must-have at the movies? Popcorn, of course. Which do you dislike most: pop-up ads or spam email? Pop-up ads. How long was it from ‘the first date’ until the proposal of marriage? How long until the wedding? N/A What topic can put you to sleep quicker than any other? Probably like, wrestling. Golf. Sports in general. How many times did it take you to pass your drivers test? I haven't tried it yet. If you had to have the same topping on your vanilla ice cream for the rest of your life, what topping would you choose? I always just use chocolate syrup. Would you rather be trapped in an elevator, or stuck in traffic? CHRIST, TRAFFIC. Elevators kinda scare me and I'm very scared of being stuck in one. What are you sitting on right now? My bed. Are you listening to anything? Halocene's cover of "Killing In The Name." Have you parents ever hated one of your boyfriends/girlfriends? No. Who was the last person to give you money? I have no idea. Have you ever dreamed of someone you barely know? Actually yeah. Weird as hell. When was the most recent time, if ever, that you felt “impostor syndrome,” or that you felt unqualified to be somewhere? Hm. I suppose when I went to the doctor by myself for my foot. I'd never done an appointment without Mom at all, and I was veeery clueless to a lot of steps, questions, etc. What are some ways that pop culture has helped you learn historic or scientific facts? Some TV shows, I guess. Or games, even. Have you ever had a job in which you felt that you had nothing to do? What was the protocol in that situation (e.g., surfing the web, taking on the job of co-workers, or pretending to work)? If you have not, do you think it would be lucky or unlucky to have such a job? No. I was expected to always be doing something. I'd consider that to be pretty unlucky, as it sounds boring and pointless. Have you ever intimidated or made another person feel legitimately threatened? If not, do you think that you could ever be seen as scary? I don't know. Mom has admitted me yelling has scared her before, though. I can yell pretty fucking loudly. But she herself never felt threatened. And do I think I could be seen as scary? Yes. Especially given my chronic fucking nightmares that almost always involve confrontation. In what ways do you or would you need to be validated by a partner? (For example, liking your posts/talking about you on social media, or perhaps by doting on you with gifts.) I am VERY much a "words of affirmation" person. I NEED reassurance that I'm adequate and sincerely loved. When you are having a hard time emotionally, what are some of the telltale ways that you act out or that your personality reflects your struggles? I become very snappy and more reclusive than usual. I cry really easily. Do you tend to succeed by weaning yourself off of something or by quitting cold turkey? It depends on what it is, but I've generally needed to wean myself off of things when necessary. Is there a specific type of pet breed/size/etc. that you don’t want? Why not? I am very turned off by animal breeds/types that are subject to serious health issues, such as pugs, dachsunds, Persians, spider ball pythons... Just don't fucking breed them. Ironically, some of these are the cutest, but I care far more about the health of the animal. Have you ever lived in a notoriously dangerous area? If not, would it bother you to do so? Yes and yes. Has a friend’s significant other ever interfered with or damaged your friendship? What about a significant other of yours damaging a friendship? I don't believe so, no. What, if anything, is something that you put pressure on yourself about? What do you imagine would happen if you did not live up to this expectation? Getting a job, for Heaven's sake, and actually managing to keep it. I've proven inept in this area so far, so, I've already failed that. :^) If you have been in a serious relationship, have you and your partner ever discussed lifetime plans that clashed? Did you reconcile them or did you break up? If you have not been in a relationship, what are some issues that would be deal-breakers? Jason and I kinda casually talked about kids early in our relationship, at which time I didn't see myself wanting them at all and he did at some point. It didn't really bother either of us, though; it was something we'd figure out if we actually got anywhere. Then he became the only person I could ever imagine myself having kids with. Life's funny.

[frangipanidownunder]

Fic: Three times Scully buzzed Mulder and one time he buzzed her

Based on the vibrator/blobfish blooper. How many times did Scully startle Mulder with that vibe? NSFW at the end. Tagging @today-in-fic

i

She swore the first time it was an accident. Mulder wasn’t supposed to be there. He’d dropped by with a housewarming gift – a peace lily – to surprise her. She really didn’t need another dead plant on her conscience but there he stood at the entry, smiling up into the security camera, with a glazed white pot in one hand and a bottle of zinfandel in the other and that ‘how could you turn me away grin’ on his face. How could you turn him away?

           His ass looked fine in those skinny jeans as he walked through the apartment nodding here and peering there, approving of the gadgets, pressing all the buttons on the keypads and picking up every remote. Finally, he settled into her chair by the fireplace. Adele was playing in the background. Pizza was on its way anyway. Why not just go with the flow?

She sipped the wine as he yammered on about how some Reddit thread about fauna he’d jumped on had turned feral and she half wondered if the houseplant was a sign she’d missed or some kind of new euphemism. She chanced a Google, punctuating his ever wilder story with the occasional nod and ‘oh’. Urban Dictionary listed nothing for peace lily, but calla lily seemed to suggest a soft woman who was hot in bed. She tried to hide her cough of surprise but it caught his attention.

           “Bones in the wine, Scully?” The smile that spread across his face showed her just how much she missed casual evenings on that couch in their shitty little house. Now, she sat opposite him, regretting her choice of the two single-seaters. Everything seemed so clinical, so isolated. There was nothing to connect them.

Mulder carried on his lurid tale and she looked at her phone to see the street definition of houseplant. An antisocial guy who ignores his girlfriend. She took a large sip of wine and hit the back button. A buzz. A yelp. And Mulder leapt up.

“What the fuck was that?”

Her phone clattered to the floor as she stood up too. The buzzing continued, muffled but insistent. He pulled up the cushions and she sucked in a horrified breath. Fuck. His long fingers wrapped around its pink girth and her cheeks flushed a complementary shade. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Oh my, Scully. One is the loneliest number,” he said, holding up the Je Joue.

ii

If the office was a trusty old friend, motels were the two-faced bitch who’d draw you in for a hug then snap at you for being overly familiar. Adjoining rooms, sounds of Mulder murmuring. Was he on his cell, talking to real people or vocally admiring internet porn? She messaged him.

           Take out?

           Eat out?

           Wtf?

           Lol.

           Don’t lol me Mulder.

           You wtf’d me, Scully. I can lol you if I want.

           You said you wanted to eat me out.

           “There’s no way I would be that crude, Scully.” His real voice was always a honeyed surprise. She shivered despite herself as he walked through the door.

           “Make yourself at home,” she said, as he lounged on her bed.

           “Besides, if I wanted to do that, I’d ask you properly.”

           “And, pray tell,” she said, sitting next to him and relishing the dip in the mattress that meant their thighs slid together. “What is the proper way to ask to eat someone out?”

           He took her cell from her hands and smiled that lazy, arrogant, sexy grin. Before he could answer, a buzz. A yelp. A guttural groan and he pushed his hand under his ass.

           “The fuck, Scully?” He whipped out the vibe. Her skin burned. He held it up to the light, inspecting it. Her breath left her body. “You love this thing, don’t you?”

           “Mulder…”

           “You take it everywhere, it gets to sit on the couch with you, you take it to bed with you…”

           “You make it sound like a pet.”

           He shrugged. “I was going to say boyfriend, but whatever floats your boat, Scully.”

           There was a magic moment of silence, weighted, where she waited for his next jibe but it didn’t come. He simply slipped the vibe back under his legs and she heard his lips pop open. He picked up her cell. “What do I press, Scully?”

 iii

Her apartment was toast. Burnt out. The smell of smoke lasted longer than the sadness she felt at saying goodbye. The living had been Spartan, cool, short-term. Their house was more shabby than chic but she felt its warm welcome as she walked up the steps and pulled open the fly wire. Mulder had cleaned up. Kind of. There was less clutter on the shelves, only a small pile of magazines on the side tables, the fridge was newly stocked, the kitchen cupboards reasonably full. And there was always something comforting about the way Mulder used the staircase as a library. In fact, the smell of knowledge always left her feeling a little horny.

           He helped her with her bags, standing them on the landing between the main bedroom and the spare. There were more piles of books, pushed against the walls between the doors. She liked to think of it as a bridge of words, connecting their minds.

           “I think it’s too early,” she said, watching him deflate a little.

           He took the bags into the spare and stood in the doorway, arms folded. “Thank you for choosing chez Mulder,” he said.

           She indulged him with a genuine smile. “I’ve heard the hospitality is second to none.”

           “The spare room has a particular vibe…I’ll let you get settled in.”

           His hand was a familiar weight in her hand. “Help me unpack?”

           He folded, tucked, hung and layered without a word. There was one small bag left, a Maine holdall that reminded her of killer dolls and mass hysteria. Crazy times when inanimate objects took on a life of their own. She tipped it upside down on the bed, contents rolling out haphazardly. Mulder sat, sending the contents rolling side to side. Her phone sparked to life in her hip pocket and she fished it out, walking to the landing to answer. The connection was hinky and she paced to find the best spot.

           Bill took too much of her time with family stuff and preaching, and by the time she opened the door again, Mulder was lying across the bed, on his side, face covered in a silk slip she hadn’t worn since forever but couldn’t part with. She imagined the smell of that item to him was comparable to his books to her. Memories, skin, romantic nostalgia.

Climbing behind him, she draped an arm over his and he pulled her hand to his, tucking it between his legs. A buzz, a low growl and she felt him flinch and twitch.

           “I was hoping you’d do that,” he hissed as the vibration continued. “I swear, Scully, if you ever find out how to properly control this thing, it’ll be such a downer.”

iv

It would be a cold day in hell when she’d eat sushi again. And as for blobfish? Never again. Mulder shook his head and grabbed her hand, hurrying them out of the restaurant.

           “We’re out of here,” he said, wrapping her jacket round her shoulders. The air was fresh. But the company was warm. Mulder was home. It didn’t matter where the physical location was, as long as he was there, it was a welcome place. It had taken her 25 years to realise it, but she had now and driving up the gravel path to their home, uneven roof, holey fly wires, splintered steps, Ikea furnishings, nothing else mattered other than his presence by her side.

           Her clothes might have hung in the wardrobe next door, but her heart hung over the bed in the main room. She luxuriated in the Egyptian cotton comfort while Mulder cleaned his teeth. The night was ink-dark and the soft golden pool of light from the bedside lamp spilled warmth over her side of the bed. His smile was as promising.

           “Have I told you lately that I love you?”

           “It’s a marvellous night for a moon dance,” she said, pulling back the sheets.

           “Is that a euphemism?”

           “Call it what you will, Mulder.” He was warm and pliant in her arms, kissing her with familiar passion.

           Divesting themselves of clothes took no time and skin-to-skin, she wrapped her leg over his hips and ground herself against him. They fitted together perfectly. Always had. It felt so good, sparking waves of pleasure from the inside out. He mumbled into her neck and her nipples stood on end.

           “There’s something I want to do for you, Scully.”

           She imagined his head between her legs, bristled chin chafing her thighs and a flush of liquid pooled at her centre. But instead, he reached over her and fumbled in the drawer.

           “I think we’re a little beyond needing protection, Mulder.”

           He chuckled and rolled her onto her back. “No barriers, Scully.”

           “What is it?”

           A buzz. A deep, resonant hum. And she couldn’t tell if it was the vibe or her. He pressed it to her and she parted her legs with a deep sigh. His breath poured over her, warming her chin, neck, chest, before his lips found a nipple and at once she purred, pulsated. His insistent massaging played in rhythm to his licking and sucking and she was about ready to implode.

           “Fuck, Mulder. This is unbearable.”

           “Tell me what you want, Scully.”

           She couldn’t put the words together as he pressed the vibe against her clit. No matter how many different ways she played with this thing, there was no beating the confident hand of the man she loved. She bucked up to meet it, heels digging into the mattress. Wet heat escaped her and his cock leaked against her thigh. “I want you to fuck me. Just you. In me. Now.”

           It was a whirlwind of skin and slickness and thrusting and bumping. He pounded and she pushed up, she groaned and he bit, he pulled her arms above her head, she shifted her feet to his shoulders, he knelt and she screamed. Stars burst behind her eyes. It took a long time to come down and when she finally did, she heard the buzz and the whirr and then the crash of deafening silence as the Je Joue fell to the floor.

           “I think we broke it,” Mulder said, half-laughing. “How will you survive without it?”

           She pushed his fingers against her still pulsating clit. “I think I’ll cope.”

[r3nton]

i was tagged by @thehotstrangeryoullneverseeagain thank u love!

RULES: Answer 11 questions, make 11 of your own, and tag 11 people.

1. What’s the last problem you had and did you solve it?

perhaps the problem is not revising for my fucking Massive exams which start this coming monday. and no, i haven’t solved that one haha

2. What’s the last reason you laughed?

probs cards against humanity with my friends last night

3. Would you rather be a blobfish or an Asian sheepshead and why?

i googled them both and theyre both fucking disgusting but i go with blobfish cuz it’s pink

4. When are aliens gonna come to Earth?

when the boredom hits too hard & they gotta waste some time in some way or another

5. Your favorite conspiracy theory?

hmmmmmm perhaps that paul died

6. If you had to become a part of an African tribe, which tribe would you choose?

i dont really know 

7. Describe the fanciest outfit you ever wore.

i Never dress fancy lmao. one time i was a bridesmaid when i was a bby does that count? i cried and didnt walk down the isle

8. What do you think is the most useless job ever and why?

gosh idk!! if a job’s useless it stops being a job tbh

9. What’s one thing that shocked you to the very core?

natasha lyonne isnt gay

10. PLEASE tell me all you know about the Illuminati.

like fuck all,, ask my dad

11. What’s your favorite font?

times new roman all the way

My questions:

1. what are your pets named? if you don’t have any pets - what would you name them?

2. what is the dreamiest song in the world?

3. what’s your fav ewan mcgregor character?

4. preferred hot drink?

5. what colour do you write with?

6. fav potato product?

7. what’s an album you can listen to all the way through and love every single song, no skipping?

8. what do you think love means?

9. what are the top 5 things you care the most about in the world?

10. what was your fav movie as a child?

11. what’s your ideal future home?

I tag: @thegeminiclub @thegrandwilde @boy7god7 @gaysonata @wonderatmywoman @fadeintoyouu @ladyoftheflora @britneyshakespeare @ubersickened

[amorremanet]

Sorry if this is a weird question but Is Sebastian the only one of your OCs you have a fancast(?) for or are there more 👀

Well, he’s the one whose fancast is the most set in my mind, but that’s mostly a function of: 1. him being around the longest (since… this whole thing got started, originally, as me writing background for him when he was an RP character, so my DM could have more ammunition for future plots and/or character torture);

and 2. me going, “Kassie, no, do not imagine him looking like Hayden Christensen, istg” — which clearly worked out about as well as telling a goat to do your calculus homework, since going, “don’t do this thing” only made me continue thinking about it so much that it stuck

But some other fancast thoughts I’ve had are:

Todd initially looked like Aidan Turner, but that’s currently in a state of, “ehhhhh, not quite so much” — they still have a few things in common but not enough that I like the fancast anymore

I’m annoyed that Margot, in my head, looks basically like Scar*Jo in Ghost World, if she were about 4’11”, less skinny (like, Margot is in that irritating, “in-betweenie” body type where you’re not really thin, but you’re not fat, but your weight isn’t distributed in the right way for people to mean it in a nice way when they call you, “curvy”), and had black hair and glasses

I’m annoyed with this because I’m annoyed with Scar*Jo in general — but I’m mostly letting it go and hoping that someone else comes to mind, because the last time I fought myself too hard on fancasting these losers, I went, “No, stop it, no Hayden Christensen”…… and now Seb looks like Hayden Christensen, so?

Maybe if I don’t argue with myself too hard, Margot won’t look like Scar*Jo forever.

Lucy changes between Kat McNamara and Sophie Turner, because I really do like both of them for her.

That said, I wish I knew what either of them looks like with short hair, because the long hair works for a little while, but eventually, she’s going to cut it short (because if you’re going to run headlong into things where fights could ensue, then giving your hypothetical opponents something they can easily grab onto, like long hair, is a really bad idea)

(also because I personally find the idea of an eager beaver go-getting young autistic hemokinetic with short, bright red hair and no chill…… super cute)

For Sara Grace, I really love Asha Bromfield, who’s currently playing Melody Valentine on Riverdale

I am perpetually cranky that I don’t have a fancast for Pete, because I love him more than GRRM loves Jon Snow and Tyrion Lannister �� and I initially thought of Karl “Manila Luzon” Westerberg, because Manila and Pete are both white/Filipinx biracial (and as I just found out, they are apparently the same height)…… but Manila’s skin is a few shades lighter than I see Pete’s, and their respective tones are pretty different, too

Convenient points of comparison: I see Pete’s skin tones and shades being closer to Bianca “Jiggly Caliente” Castro’s or Ryan “Ongina” Ong Palao’s (who are both also Filipinx, though not biracial afaik) than to Manila’s

Pete’s older brother Jimmy is closer to Manila in terms of shading, though their skin-tones are still different

I do know that Emerson, one of Pete’s cousins from his Dad’s side of the family, looks like Eddie Redmayne, but that’s just because Emerson used to be in a different project, and I moved him to this one, and he’s looked like Eddie Redmayne since, like, 2009.

He’s also a really secondary/tertiary character, so it’s kind of a cheap consolation prize to not having a fancast for Pete that makes me happy

Like, Emerson is not quite to, “I could replace him with an interesting lamp and have the same effect” levels, but he’s not a big deal.

I mean?? He’s Pete’s cousin. Both of them are the gay cousin, but Emerson is a gay Libertarian who works for the FBI and Pete is completely certain that he’s making up his alleged boyfriend because why would someone who sounds so cool and nice want to date Emerson

He’s not making up his boyfriend. But Pete’s enjoying himself in trying to prove that Emerson is making Asa up, just like how he made up two separate girlfriends before he accepted that he’s gay, and Pete’s had a pretty rough time of things in the past few years, and he really is Em’s favorite cousin, so Emerson figures he can let Pete enjoy the, “prove that Emerson’s boyfriend is a big conspiracy theory” thing until about Thanksgiving

But that’s beside the point, and seriously, about the most relevance that Emerson has is being Pete’s cousin and being employed by the FBI’s department of mutant shenanigans

Josie, once upon a time, looked like this goth model who I’ve never seen anywhere else but the face-claim suggestions/resources blog where I found the banner and icons that I used for Josie, back when they were a character in an all-dudeslash RPG because in those days, all-slash games were one of the only ways you could play any characters who weren’t 100% hetero without it being hella mocked and/or hella policed

—unfortunately, said goth model’s name is, “Aaron Gilmore” which makes him impossible to Google because there are a ton of people named, “Aaron Gilmore” and none of them has ever been the one I want, excepting the one of whom very few pictures actually exist

He’s also only good for Josie c. high school and undergrad, and?? idk, I kinda like Ben Whishaw, but I also have reasons why I don’t entirely like him for Josie

Another minor character whose face I know: Nick, who is Seb and Pete’s sponsor and Stephen’s boss, looks like Nathan Lane, and pretty much wandered into my head looking like Nathan Lane as soon as I decided that Seb and Pete’s sponsor existed, his name was Nick, and he has an art gallery

I’m kind of annoyed that I have no freaking clue where to start looking for Stephen’s fancast, but I’m also not surprised because he’s tall, and chubby, and a dork whose favorite colors are hot pink and acid green, and who laughs at his own jokes so much that he cannot finish telling the damn joke, and his Dad is black/white biracial while his Mom is Puerto Rican mestizx, and here we are

There is, to the surprise of absolutely no one, a side-character who looks like Tyler Posey. He… needs to be renamed, because I named him at like three in the morning and only just realized why I felt weird about him being named, “Rafael Delgado” (…because Melissa McCall’s maiden name is Delgado, and Scott’s blobfish-shaped gene donor was named Rafael, oh jeez)

—but anyway, he’s a member of the Wardens, who are “totally not” a middle finger to a lot of my issues with how Marvel has handled the X-Men over the years, and he teaches music at their attached school for “the gifted”

This wasn’t the first time that I did something like this, either.

For example: Pete has an ex-boyfriend, who is very much an, “I could replace him with an interesting lamp and it would be essentially the same”-level character. I named him Wade, first as a placeholder, and then I liked it so it stuck but something felt a little off about it

It took me about a month to remember that Spidey*pool is a Thing, and their civvies names are Peter and Wade, respectively, and ohhhhh, that’s why it felt weird…… well, shit. (Interesting Lamp Ex-Boyfriend has since been renamed Blake)

I also have “fancasts” for all of Sebastian’s dogs (Lola, Achilles, Angel, Oscar, Renly, Chewie, Toby, Biscuit, and Cat) and for Nick’s cat (Ms. Dorothy), but that literally just means, “I decided what breed I wanted Ms. Dorothy and Seb’s dogs to be, I went on Google Image Search, and I found the ones I liked the best, yay cute animals”

[ecotone99]

[HM] Liquorice and Mashed Tattie

(Mashed Tattie means mashed potato for anyone who doesn't know)

Night looms. Darkness reaching down, stretching out and filling up every street and crevice along the city’s surface. A powerful stench of coal and mackerel filters through the air creating a musty cloud overhead. The city, named ‘Craigs Hull’, is twinned with the hull of an algae covered shipwreck from the 19th Century. The populace, with hints of marine life themselves, look like close descendants from homo erectus but with a slight mix of fish, squid and invertebrate. Craigs Hull as a city, is largely known as a place to avoid. A colourless town, largely grey with flecks of green, red and brown along most of the city’s structures and buildings. The rain is consistent and the sky, dull at best.

The streets sit eerily quiet for 9pm, the sound of a distant siren is heard from a faraway point in the city. Suddenly, another siren begins to blare elsewhere. Oh jesus. A third siren begins to wail. Things are everchanging in the city, like an unpredictable weather cycle. On the left side of the road, from one of Craigs Hull’s local taverns named ‘The Tower’, spills a group of rambunctious males throwing a frenzy of fists and wayward kicks. Limbs fly everywhere. The tavern itself, relatively small, but the men continue to flock out like cockroaches in a cardboard box. Not before long, bottles begin to fly and shatter on faces and the occasional shoulder for those with a wayward aim. A whisky bottle flies from out of the taverns’ window. Fucking shame because I like the odd whisky these days, just fyi. It hurtles towards a male cranium… Direct hit. B2, B3, B4 and B5 all in the one go. The man sank towards the floor, sending him to Davey Jones’ Locker with the rest of the boozy wrecks that had been downed.

From the starboard side of the road, a local passer-by spots the commotion dripping from the tavern as she walks with her dog. From her pocket she pulls out a flare gun and fires a flare into the night sky, hoping that help would arrive in some way, shape or form. She then lifts a rubber dog toy in her hand and proceeds to blow into it. It inflates into a small dinghy. She places her dog inside and begins to paddle herself to safety. Unfortunately, the nature of the concrete pavement scrapes at the bottom of her dinghy ripping a hole in the underside. Slowly, it begins to deflate. She looks at her dog. It looks to be a Bichon Frise but could be part Beagle. It stares back at her, thinking she’s gone insane. The woman panics, searching for a life jacket but to no avail. She looks over the side of the dinghy. Slowly seeing herself descend to the floor as the burst rubber screeches below her. She looks to the sky, throws her hands in the air and screams uncontrollably. Tears stream down her face. The dog assesses the situation, jumps out of the dinghy, pees on it and wanders off into the night. It was, in simple terms, done with her shit.

As the woman screamed and her dinghy deflated, the fight over the road ensued. Nobody batted an eyelid; they only batted each other’s heads. The street was littered with bodies, blood and blobfish. Suddenly, from The Tower’s roof appeared a dark shadowy figure, holding a long pole like object. They shouted. It was the owner of the tavern, Bruno Barracuda, they could tell by his husky voice and gold tooth glistening in the darkness. The fighting stopped. The brawlers looked up at him, knowing he was a crazed lunatic. He slowly pulled back the pole like object before sharply bringing it down pointing towards the men below. One of the brawlers suddenly jerked his head back as though he’d been hit by something. “We’ve got a big’un!” cried Bruno with suppressed glee. Bruno began to rotate his hand in a quick motion and pull back on the pole like object, which began to bend quite drastically. The lip of the brawler below began to lift, revealing a fishhook in his mouth. Bruno was out fishin’! He began reeling the brawler in, lifting him off the ground. Bruno barked out “Margaret, get the net. Margaret! Don’t let me down here hen, I’ll tell ye!” Margaret arrived on the scene, a frail figure, she put the net under the brawler who dangled high in the air, scooped him up and placed him down onto the tavern roof. He wriggled in a struggle before Bruno batted him over the back of the head, hogtied him and lifted him onto his back. They then disappeared from the roof in a flash.

Everything lay calm for a hot moment, all the men stood staring at one another confused. Nobody knew what the fighting was about, but that was a common theme in Craigs Hull.

After a few moments. A reveller appeared at the shattered window, drunk as a skunk and armed with a harpoon and a pint glass. “OI, what’s all the racket!” He growled. He cocked his arm with the harpoon in it. Oh god, no! He aimed at one of the many men stood staring at him, inviting him to throw it. He took one last glance, stumbled a bit, then sent his pint glass flying through the air and shattering on one of the men’s faces. He then kissed his harpoon and headed back into The Tower for another pint. His actions, however, had a chain reaction on the men. The violence erupted again as more of them continued to pour out of the tavern and into a fury of fists.

The city was crying out for the local authorities but still they hadn’t shown up to diffuse the situation.

Blood was filling the street, nearly submerging that poor ladies’ sunken dinghy. Surprisingly though, the lady wasn’t there anymore. She was atop a litter bin with a tea towel placed over her shoulder for warmth. One of the men was about to deliver a killer blow to another. His fist high in the air ready to strike. He ignited the power from his bumcheeks, right up through his back, into his arm and through to his fist. He pushed down towards the other man and…

Nothing.

His fist remained firmly in the same position, with a black lacey lasso constricted around it. He tried to move his arm, but he couldn’t. Suddenly, his whole torso was wrapped in the black lace and he was dragged to the floor. Fully subdued. He tried to bite at it, but it was cold and tough. It tasted… It tasted like… liquorice? What was this? The black lace suddenly started to circle all of the brawlers outside the tavern, capturing them all in its super strong hold and squishing them together in a tight trap. They couldn’t move their bodies, resorting them to headbutting each other as they struggled in continuing to fight one another. At that moment, a small fluffy fleck drifted down from over head and into the middle of the circle.

Was it snow?

It was a mild evening, perhaps too warm for snow. Another fleck drifted down, this time more of a gloopy texture than fluffy. It landed on one of the men’s shoulders and dripped down his shirt. He looked up, to see a huge fluffy mass falling from the sky and hurtling towards the encased circle. He screamed, alerting the rest of the men who all joined him as they became aware of the mass which was growing bigger and bigger and

SPLAT.

A huge thick creamy substance covered the men and moulded perfectly around them, stopping their every move. They were now completely stuck. Some of the men had a mouthful. Milky, buttery, slight hints of pepper cupped with a wonderful texture. Their palates felt so stimulated that they passed out and collapsed into the creamy mass.

A silence befell the street. The fighting had stopped. All the men encased like sausages in a creamy mould. From the sky dropped a man in an earthy suit, a very starchy head and small amounts of hair sprouting out of the top of it. He looked around the street and stared at all the passed-out brawlers with a proud grin. “Look at all these lumps in my mash” he chuckled to himself. He looked over to the side, emerging from the darkness came a woman, dressed in a black lacy suit, with pink and blue jellies dotted around her body and a crudely drawn ‘L’ or her forehead. They smiled at one another and nodded. It was as though they were working in tandem.

The woman walked closer to the scene. A man groaned on the ground near her, as a bottle of vodka fell from his hand. He stared up at her, as though to mutter his last words before passing out. “It’s – It’s… the liquor” he mouthed through half shut eyes. She smiled down at him. “No. It’s Liquorice!” She laughed, not realising that he was actually talking about his vodka bottle. She joined her accomplice in the middle of the crime scene. They both smiled and stepped onto a small creamy cloud which the man had blown out of his starchy mouth. They rose and began to float away from the scene.

“WAAAAAAAAAAIT!”

They looked down. It was the lady still perched on top of the bin with the tea towel.

“Who are you?!?” she screamed in awe of them.

They both looked at each other, smiled and looked back down at the woman.

“Liquorice” said the woman, before the man replied, “Mashed Tattie”. They continued to rise high and into the sky disappearing into the night.

When the woman got home that night after her ordeal, she opened up her house to find a lifetime supply of liquorice and mashed potato stacked up inside her bathroom.

“Bastard! I’m bursting on a piss” she raged.

THE END.

Sorry about the wait for Mashed Tattie and Liquorice there, it was like Godzilla or something where you only see them close to the end. Limited screen time. Got caught up in nautical references.

I have more short stories and daft chat on my blog sucklypoo.com if anyone would like to check that out.

Thanks for reading!

submitted by /u/AlfieBingham [link] [comments] via Blogger https://ift.tt/2XJG1va

[dsikkema]

Jim: Amazon River Dolphin

A curmudgeonly janitor for the Miami Aquarium finds something to fight for when the last Amazon River Dolphin moves into the aquarium. Strong language throughout. Approximately 5,900 words.

A dolphin is a fat fucking fish. Jim was not my friend. He was not a person. He was a fat fucking fish. I did not love him. I promise you that.

My name is Jeff Higgins. I’m a janitor for the Miami Aquarium, the most popular aquarium on the East Coast. But popular doesn’t mean well-funded. Why would anyone go to an aquarium when smartphones offer everything humanity knows right in the palms of everyone’s fat ass hands? Six months ago, entry ticket sales dipped hard, and the aquarium’s chief officers flipped shit. They fired our old P.R. agent and brought in a new one: Linda. She made the auxiliary staff take these evening classes on marine biology. “The public eye watches all,” Linda said. I told her that I didn’t need her stupid classes. “We’ll discuss that later,” she said. Spoiler alert: we never discussed it.

I have a bachelor’s degree in Marine Science from the University of Tampa. I’m not stupid. And yes, a dolphin is a fat fucking fish. Seals are dog fish, different from dogfish. Manatees are blob fish, different from blobfish. Scientists, whose lab coats I have to clean by the way, decided to classify everything that doesn’t have gills as a mammal. Why not classify everything that spends most of its time in the water as a fish? Because ‘most’ isn’t scientifically accurate. Well, fuck you. People know what ‘most’ means unless they’re stupid.

Whatever Linda did, it worked. Entry sales spiked.

Then this dolphin came to the aquarium.

I was scrubbing down the Green Sea Anemone tank when I got buzzed on my walkie. “Clean up in the mammals dome. Someone’s kid puked.” I groaned, put my Windex away, and grabbed my cleaning supplies cart, lugging it behind me like a ball and chain. I started pushing people out of the way as I left the invertebrate tunnels and wound my way through the bird exhibits to the mammals dome. I’d heard that the aquarium was keeping a dolphin there. “The last Amazon river dolphin,” our mammals biologist had said. “Just flown in from Brazil.”

I pushed open the doors at the other end of the sloping birds pathway and shoved into the mammals dome. The dome is just that: a huge dome filled with water that has a pathway crossing through the middle so that people can gawk at their smartphones while marine animals swim past. The path expands at the middle of the dome so people can update their Facebook statuses. OMG, the Miami aquarium dome is literally the COOLEST thing I’ve ever seen!!!!

I walked into the dome. Normally, there are manatees and seals dodging through the kelp, playing in the sand at the bottom, but today the dome looked unoccupied. All these people had crowded at the other end of the path. This dolphin had to be doing loop-de-loops or some shit. Screaming parents. Shrieking kids. Pretentious scientists. Pompous hipsters. Fat asses. Wise asses. Jack asses. People. Most of them taking pictures on their phones. I got over to where the kid had puked, a spot in the middle platform, and looked out. The dolphin was drifting there, pink skinned with sunlight dancing across his back, frowning, too small for the big ass dome, his snout pointing out at the crowd like they were guilty of something.

One of the aquarium’s teenage docents, hired to tell people the life-spans of manatees and the diets of harbor seals, stood in front of the crowd.  His name was Bobby. Some kid banged on the glass with his fists. “Hey, little buddy!” Bobby greeted. I chuckled at Bobby’s mockingly pleasant tone. “Could ya stand behind the dots please? Loud noise makes him cranky.” The kid banged on the glass again. I laughed again, put out a couple wet floor signs, and slapped my mop onto the puke.

“Are you sure?” A pompous hipster shouted at Bobby. “Are you sure it’s the last one?”

“Yep,” Bobby replied. “Jim is the last Amazon River Dolphin.”

That got me laughing. Jim. A dolphin named Jim. They gotta name these animals to keep track of them. I guess it also helps the guests see ‘themselves in the animal.’ But he’s not a person. He’s a fat fucking fish.

“Isn’t this salt water?” the hipster asked.

“We changed some piping, and presto! Fresh water!” Bobby responds. “Jim’ll be happy as long as he’s here.”

“Dolphins are social creatures.” The hipster’s voice was nasally and sharp. “How can he be happy?”

“We are his family! We have toys for him to play with and divers who’ll hop in sometimes and play with him for a while. Our goal is to keep him communicating with our scientists.”

Communicating!

“Well, he’s not gonna live that long anyway,” the hipster continued.

“Sorry, bud, but animals in captivity actually live longer. Jim is an aging male, but he’ll be around for a long time.” Bobby flashed a fat grin. He hopped off of his little block. “Follow me everyone! It’s time to feed him!” The crowd followed Bobby’s fact-spouting ass out of the room.

I finished cleaning up the puke and looked up at the dome. I don’t like a lot of things. I like my wife, who doesn’t want kids. I like my dog. I like beer. And I like the dome. The sunlight is nice. I like the space it gives the animals. Animal, in this case. They’d moved the dog fish and blob fish to other tanks. Jim was alone.

Jim swam over to me and drifted for a second. His long snout pointed at me. Then he looked up at the sun, and it shined down in his eyes. “Don’t get cocky, Jim,” I said. “You’re a fat fucking fish.” I liked to think that I was talking to him. Who knows? Maybe he heard me.

Jim drifted for a couple seconds. Then he paddled his tail and swam up to the ball that Bobby had thrown into the dome. I sighed and started lugging my cleaning cart back to Green Sea Anemones.

After the aquarium closed, I was making my window cleaning rounds, lugging my cart behind me and holding a bottle of Windex. Squirt, squirt, squirt, rub. Sigh. Squirt, Squirt, Squirt, rub. Sigh. Squirt, squirt, squirt, rub. Sigh.

I was cleaning the windows in the hall leading into Jim’s dome when I heard two voices. One was Linda’s, the P.R. agent. I cringed. The other was Marie’s, our top biologist. They were standing together on the dome’s central platform.

“200 Percent! 200 percent, Marie!” Linda said. “This dolphin is hot. I told you this dolphin is hot!”

“Yeah,” Marie replied. The light in the dome came from overhead electric lights, not the sun. It had gone down a while ago. Jim danced through the kelp, weaving through the green strands in the dim orange glow of the electric lamps. “I think that we should consider, maybe, limiting guest access,” Marie continued. Linda scoffed. “All these people…I don’t think it’s good for him, you know? He does have it. I mean, that is why he’s here, right? The Brazil aquarium couldn’t care for him anymore.”

“Keep giving him shots.”

“Well, that’ll slow it down, maybe. If we want to think about saving him, we should—“

“AHEM!”

I cleared my throat. They looked at me. I gestured at the dome wall with my Windex. “Next room, Jeff,” Linda said. I dragged my cart through the dome, the wheels screaming in the awkward silence. Linda and Marie started whispering. I rolled my eyes. Why should I give a shit about their conversation?

“WE ARE NOT TAKING HIM OFF DISPLAY!” Linda shrieked. “END OF DISCUSSION!”

That made my ears ring.

Later that night, I was mopping the space around the top of Jim’s dome where people watch our staff “communicate” with him, no roof separating it from the stars glaring down from the sky. I looked out at the black, unfathomable ocean as I mopped the rim of Jim’s dome. The aquarium was built right next to the ocean so it could keep pumping salt water through the building. My head wandered off.

Then that fat fucking fish just about pulled my mop into the water.

He’d jumped halfway out of his tank and grabbed my mop with his teeth. “HEY!” I yanked the mop back. I stood there for a second. His snout jabbed at me like an accusatory finger. He opened his mouth and the characteristic dolphin creeeeeaaaak came boiling out.

I sighed and flipped the mop strands in his face. “You wanna do it?

Jim dove away.

I kept mopping. Jim resurfaced and poked his snout out of the water.

Creeeeeaaaaaaak.

“What?”

Creeeeeeaaaaak.

He was swimming near a bucket of fish in a cove where the biologists feed and play with him.

I groaned and shook my head.

Creeeeaaaak.

I stared at the bucket for a long time. Fuck it, I thought. I walked to the cove, grabbed a fish, and tossed it to him. He caught and swallowed it. He kept swimming around the bucket.

Creeeeeaaaaaak.

I looked down at the bucket. Fuck it. I grabbed the bucket and threw the whole fucking pail of dead fish into the water. Jim started snapping them up, one at a time.

I sighed and walked back to where I was mopping bird shit off of the path. Then I turned and glanced back at Jim, snapping up fish left and right. I felt something warm prick at the corners of my mouth. I shook my head and looked down at the bird shit. “You know, it’s convention to ask about the wife and kids.”

Creeaak.

“She’s good. No kids. They either turn into little shits who think they know everything or little smart asses who do know everything and want to rub it in your face.”

Creeeeaaaak.

“Yeah, once I was the little smart ass who knew everything.” I stopped mopping. Maybe Jim was listening. You never know. “I wanted to be a big biologist like Marie or some shit.” I shook my head. “But money for school beyond a B.S. in Marine Science didn’t exist. At least not for me. Neither did any jobs. So here I am.”

Creeeeaaaak.

I felt warmth pricking at the sides of my mouth and let myself smile, the slight bubble of laughter building in the back of my throat. “You’re like my dog. Can’t ever know what you’re—”

Creeeaaaaaak.

I looked up. The fish were gone. Jim was swimming near his pile of toys. I sighed, walked over, and kicked the ball into the dome. “Don’t interrupt me,” I said, returning to the bird shit by my mop.

Then the fat fucking fish punted the ball at my head. I didn’t mind though. That meant he saw people like I do. They feed you, but sometimes you gotta smack them upside the head. I might have even looked back and smiled. I don’t really remember.

This went on. Every week I had to wipe the bird shit off of the paths around Jim’s tank, and when I did, I’d always throw the bucket of fish that Marie had left out into Jim’s tank. He’d snatch them up like they were still alive and might get away. I talked sometimes, letting myself think that he was listening. I talk to my dog like that sometimes too. Sue me. At least she doesn’t talk back.

One night after the aquarium had hosted some kid’s birthday, I was mopping up around Jim’s dome.

Creeeeaaaaaakkk.

I looked up at the stars, down at the ocean lapping against the nearby shore. I walked to the pail of fish and scattered them into Jim’s dome. He started snatching them up again. The nearby beach was deserted except for a teen couple, laughing and falling over each other like they might last forever. I looked out at the ocean, leaning on my mop. Then I groaned and kept mopping up the bird shit.

Creeeaaaaaakkkk.

“What?”

Creeeaaaaaaakkk.

I shook my head and kept mopping, my eyes on the path. “Birthday parties are idiotic. Congratulations, you survived another year!” I put elbow grease into my mopping. “Big fucking deal.”

Creeeaaaaaakkk.

I walked over and kicked Jim’s ball into the pool. He hadn’t punted it at my head since the first night. I leaned on my mop and sighed.  “The birthday girl’s family brought their dog in for her birthday. Linda flipped shit, but Marie approved it. A big golden, fluffy, fat, happy.” I kept mopping. “I’ve had lots of dogs, let me tell you. Rover, Bailey, and Teddy. Then there was Goldy. She died when I was ten. It wasn’t pretty. She ran out of the cul-de-sac one day. We looked for hours. When we found her, she was on her last leg. She’d basically been stoned to death by the asshole kids around the block. They hated me. Well, everyone did, thought I was a teacher’s pet because I did my fucking homework. Anyway, the vet said there was nothing he could do, so three days later, we buried Goldy, and my parent’s didn’t cry, not one fucking tear, nothing, even though I was bawling my fucking eyes out, cradling the rock engraved with her name like it might–”

Creeeaaaaaakk.

I looked at Jim. He was bobbing in the water, his dark eyes looking up at me and his snout pointing at my feet. I stopped and leaned on my mop, realizing that I’d finished cleaning the path.

“That’s when I learned that people are shit heads.” I shook my head. “Worst day of my life. Even trumps the day my little brother died.”

Creeeaaaaak.

I shrugged. “We live. We die. Some gotta go sooner. Still, it’s kind of fucked up for an eight-year-old to die of fucking Leukemia.”

Creeaaaak.

Jim and I looked at each other’s eyes. He quietly jumped up and bit my mop. For a moment, I let him gnaw on it, feeling the edges of my mouth start to twitch as something warm and painful suddenly lurched its way to life inside of my body.

I yanked the mop away. Jim dove into the dome. I thrust my mop into my bucket of suds and snarled, “What the hell do you know? You’re a fat fucking fish.”

The next four weeks went about the same. I mopped the space around Jim’s dome, fed him, and kicked him his ball. Did Marie notice the missing pails of fish? Probably, but I doubt she cared. She was too busy trying to convince Linda to take Jim away from the public.

So yeah, I talked to a dolphin and fed him a little more than he was supposed to get. No big deal.

If anything, I should have hated Jim. That fat fucking fish brought SO MANY PEOPLE to the aquarium! That meant more messes. All of them fat asses, smart asses, and wise asses, walking around looking at their phones when there are smart ass kids like Bobby standing around and BEGGING someone to talk to them.

Eight weeks after my first night with Jim, I’m making my rounds with the Windex and rag again, lugging my cart behind me as usual. I was wiping the tanks in the hall leading to Jim’s dome, when I heard two voices again. Guess who?

“It’s all over his liver at this point.” Marie.

“So what? We knew that would happen.” Linda.

“I think we might have slowed it down if we’d given him time in extensive care.”

“Extensive care puts him out of the public eye.”

“I think there might be more important things than the public, Linda. We are talking about his life.”

“More important than the public? Marie, this dolphin is radioactive! Do you have any idea how much money this dolphin has pulled in? I sure don’t because we’re still counting!”

Linda stared at her cell phone. Marie was staring at the Amazon River Dolphin fact board. Extinct in the wild, it read. Jim lazily swam around the dome. “Yeah,” Marie said. “O.K. I know we hired you to increase aquarium income, but the aquarium is here to educate people about these animals, you know? For as long as possible, right?”

“The public doesn’t want to be educated, Marie! They want to be entertained!”

Marie looked up from the board. “Linda.” Linda met her eyes. “Please?” They stared at each for a moment. Linda eyed Marie like a child that she might humor with a pre-dinner candy bar.

Linda scoffed. She took another look at Marie. “Alright, fine. We’ll release a statement that Jim’s going into extensive care soon. The people will trample each other to see him before he goes.” Linda walked away, towards the sharks’ dome. “But I want him back out in a week. We need to capitalize on this!” Marie glanced at the board describing Amazon River Dolphins one more time. Then she followed after Linda.

That’s when I stopped and looked at my surroundings. Fuck. I was eavesdropping. I was eavesdropping because of a fat fucking fish.

Later that night, I was mopping the space around Jim’s dome.

“Extensive care. Lucky you. I’d like to live in extensive care. Anything you need, they got.”

Creeeaaak.

“I’m getting to the fish.” I stopped mopping, glared at the stars, shook my head, and continued. “Like I was saying, they got all these monitors in extensive care. They’ll keep track of your blood pressure and your heartbeat and your temperature, all just by tracking vibrations in the water. It’s pretty badass. You’ll still have your big tank and everything. Computers can do some amazing things.”

Creeeaaak.

“Food’s the only thing on your mind. Just like my dog.” I finished mopping up a spot of bird shit and walked over to the pail of fish. “You’re pretty quiet tonight.” I tossed the fish into the water.

Fuck. I hadn’t been looking at the water.

Jim was drifting out in the middle of the dome like a lifeless log. The water lapped lamely at his sides as he floated, motionless, almost as if he were dead. My heart screamed in an electric jolt of fear. I replayed the sounds he had emitted that night in my head and realized that I hadn’t heard him splashing around. He had looked fine just two days ago. This was a fat fucking turn of events. Jim didn’t snatch up the fish like they were still alive. I watched the herring slowly float out to him. He ignored them, still unmoving for a long time. Slowly, he lifted his tail and dove downward.

I sighed, jammed my mop into my bucket of suds, and left. He’s a fish. Why should I care?

The next day…Oh, THE NEXT FUCKING DAY! Linda’s press release had circulated the planet overnight. All the people from before and more. Goth teens. Self-centered college students. Old folks on walkers. Parents with strollers. Whiny kids. Screaming kids. Shitty kids. Helicopter parents. Idiot parents. Shitty parents. Fat asses, wise asses, and jack asses assembled. All of them heading to Jim. Imagine that the Beatles had come back to life and were in that dome, playing “Blackbird” the whole time.

I was cleaning up someone’s Gatorade in Jim’s dome. I had a couple wet floor signs up. Most people were staring at their phones. Those who weren’t were taking pictures, crowding around the “Amazon River Dolphin” board, or trying to listen to Bobby’s mockingly pleasant spiel. I looked at Jim. He drifted away from Bobby, to me. His snout pointed at the crowd like they had done something guilty. He reached me and my wet floor signs. People were snapping their cameras at him and me. I put my head down and groaned.

A kid waddled over the “no-step” dots. He had curly blonde hair. His grin was wide and dopey with wide gaps in between his teeth and his laugh was bubbly and nauseating and his sneakers were tiny and stumbling and laced by parents who had vanished into the crowd somewhere. He leaned his pudgy hands on the glass and stood there. I looked at him and groaned, continuing to mop. My peripheral vision caught Jim looking spectral in the sunlit water. “Fishy!” the kid screamed as he banged his hands on the glass.

The glass quivered, and I heard Jim creak in agony.

“Hey,” I said. The kid looked up at me. His dopey grin met my scowl. I gazed into green eyes thick with the soupy light of idiotic, ignorant innocence and wordless, meaningless, directionless happiness. My scowl tightened like a boxer’s bicep in preparation for the knockout punch. “Don’t touch the glass,” I growled. “Stay behind the dots.”

The kid’s feet stomped like he had to piss but didn’t have the brains to express himself in words. He kept smiling, big, fat gaps in between his teeth that gleamed white by the attention of parents who thought he was an angel. A pretty little angel who could do no wrong. No fucking wrong. Even though he was a god damn person. The kid laughed. “Hee hee hee!”

He slammed on the glass with open palms and I saw the dome quiver like a whimpering animal. I heard Jim as he drifted close to the back wall of the dome.

Creeeeeeaaaakkkk…

I saw Goldy’s broken, bloody body lying stark against the black pavement of my cul-de-sac.

“Hey!” I shouted at the grinning little dunce, dancing like he had to piss but didn’t give a fuck about who would have to clean it up. “Don’t touch the glass!”

He laughed again, and I felt the tears wept over the stone engraved with Goldy’s name rage upward from deep within my stomach. The kid raised his hands to bang on the glass again, and I channeled the rising tears into something fiery and enraged and heaving that latched onto my hand, my hand that reached out and grabbed the kid’s arm as if he were brandishing a stone that might shatter the dome.

“HEY!” I grabbed the kid’s wrist. The crowd gasped. The kid’s dopey grin vanished, and the venomous words crept onto my tongue. “Don’t…touch…the glass. You little fucker.”

I stared at the kid, and the kid stared back at me like he didn’t know what he had done.

“Jeff!” I heard Bobby voice sail over the people. He stepped between me and the kid. The kid started crying. “That’s not how we treat children here.” A mom and dad crouched down by the kid, looking up at me like I had punched the little shit in the face. Bobby glared at me.

I straightened my back, blinked several times, and saw the child in front of me.

I snarled and left. Jim was drifting at the back of the dome.

Creeeaaaaakkkk…

Later Linda called me into her upstairs office. I walked into her room with windows that leered out at the other second floor office spaces. Two windows behind her let in the setting sun. She was typing on her smartphone. “Hold on,” she said. I groaned. She glanced up at me. “Kill the tone, Jeff.” I didn’t respond.

She lifted her head to me. “I heard about your stunt today. I could fire you right now.” I didn’t say anything. Her eyes tried to bore into me. I looked into them. “I want to,” she said.

Get the fuck out, I thought.

Linda leaned back. “But Marie told me that you’ve never attacked a child before. Thank her later because she’s saving your job. You know behind the scenes pretty well. From now on, you’ll be working there. Stay off the floor.”

Thank the Lord.

“Anything to say, Jeff?” I shook my head. “Good.” She returned to her smartphone. I left.

I started mopping up behind the scenes. Scientists are just as messy as everyone else. Jim spent another day in the dome. Then he went into extensive care. I saw him a lot then, but he was never alone, not even when the aquarium closed. Biologists were constantly measuring his heartbeat, blood pressure, and body temperature on this huge monitor. They took blood and dropped it onto these little tablets which read out cell concentrations. There weren’t any buckets of fish for me to throw into his tank, but I don’t think he was hungry. I don’t even want to know what he was getting pumped with. Animal chemo was not easier than human chemo.

After a week in extensive care, Jim went back out in public again. Marie didn’t leave any fish out anymore. Jim hardly ever ate anymore.

Two weeks after he was put back in public, I was mopping the space around his dome. He was swimming limply around the space where a pail of herring might have been. “You’re having a good night. Haven’t seen that for weeks.”

Creeeeeaaak.

He swam away from the pail-less platform and circled the dome’s rim. I kept mopping. He swam over to his pile of toys. I mopped my way over and kicked a ball into his dome. I stopped, leaning on my mop, as I watched him poke and push the ball around with his snout.

“I heard the biologists talking about euthanasia earlier, but I don’t see the problem.” Jim punted the ball out of the dome. It lazily rolled past my feet. I nodded. “I see.”

Jim swam over to my edge of the dome. He pointed his guilty-labeling snout away from me. Then he leapt up and grabbed the bottom of my mop. I felt a warm tingle at either side of my mouth and permitted myself to smile.

“Jim, you’re a fat fucking fish.” I gently pulled my mop away and thrust it back in my tub of suds and started to walk away.

Creeeeeeeaaaak.

I turned around, and my eyes found Jim’s. His gazed back at mine. For a moment, I thought I could I almost see words in them. I wondered if river dolphins had tear ducts. What if Jim were crying right now and I had no way of knowing because his tears couldn’t fall? What if he had been crying all along and I just hadn’t been capable of hearing him because all I ever heard was the sound of a slowly opening door? Against my will, my thoughts took a selfish turn and looked inward. Was there any way I could ever know that Jim gave more than two shits about me?

I wanted to smile, laugh, joke, something. I wanted to look away, turn, leave, pretend that his eyes meant nothing. He’s a fat fucking fish, I thought. He’s a fat fucking fish. But as I stared back into his bloody, drooping eyes, I just saw the words that I thought were there, that I wanted to think were there. I felt something liquid and hot pushing its way to the front of my face. And I pushed it away.

I turned and walked the hardest steps that I’d ever had to take, mumbling as I went, “Thank God you’re not a fat fucking human.”

That night was my last with Jim. Three days later they took him into extensive care again. Four days later he died. Cancer is a bitch, human or dolphin.

Two days after Jim died, I was cleaning the chrome hallway leading into his extensive care unit, a larger tank in the next room. Iron cabinets and countertops flanked me and boxed me in like a prison.  I was dragging my cart behind me, and it felt like someone had filled it with solid steel. My jaw was tight and my eyes locked on my Windex bottle. I heard a couple voices from around the corner wrench my ears.

The first voice was Linda’s. “The dolphin’s death announcement goes out tomorrow.”

I froze. I felt my jaw and my muscles all lock together. I stood there, frozen, focusing all of my strength on this raging tension in my stomach.

Marie replied, “Yeah.” Jesus. Really Marie? Is that really all you can say when…

I felt acrid, unbreathable air plowing down into my lungs with each inhale, feeling my stomach and body struggling to maintain control over this rage thundering up my spine and into my brain.

“Marie,” Linda said. “Go home. You need sleep.” I shook my head. I clenched my bottle of Windex. I felt like hurling it at the stupid, imprisoning chrome cabinets that surrounded me. I saw Goldy again, lying stark, bloody, and mutilated against the black sidewalk. Her ears had been beaten inward. Her jawbone was shattered and spiked. Her fur that had once been as golden as Jim’s back the first day I saw him was matted and tainted by blood still drying in the unrelenting heat of the sun.

And Marie said, “Yeah.” That’s all she fucking said. That’s it.

“God damn it…” I muttered under my breath. “Jesus fucking Christ, Marie…God damn it…”

Linda sighed, and it sounded like my mother’s sigh as she stood over my ten-year-old body that was cradling the stone inscribed ‘Goldy: The Bestest Dog There Ever Was.’ I felt the tension in my stomach surge. The words were in my mouth, as putrid, vile, and unnecessary as vomit. But they were there. My mind strained to stop their regurgitation. I wanted to swallow them, forget them, un-see the words that floated in front of my eyes. I knew that to speak them would be pointless. It wouldn’t make a difference. I gritted my teeth. My hand clenching the Windex trembled. I shook my head, feeling tears raging towards my eyes like an undammed river.

“He pulled in more people than we could have ever estimated,” Linda continued. “He was our biggest attraction ever.”

“FUCK!”

The word burst from my stomach with all the tears and memory and tension behind it. I stepped around the corner. Marie stared at the empty water in Jim’s empty extensive care tank, her back to me. Fucking Linda turned around and glared at me with wide, astonished eyes.

“Is that all you can fucking say, Linda?” I said. “Is that all you can FUCKING say?”  I looked into her eyes and saw them quivering like the dome being pounded on by that little asshole kid from before. I hurled my Windex bottle at the floor between us. Linda flinched back. The bottle burst, unleashing a vast puddle of soapy blue fluid. “That he was the biggest attraction the aquarium has ever had?”

“Jeff, what the hell are you doing?” Linda replied.

“Because I’m here to tell your fat fucking face, Linda, that the biggest damn attraction at this bullshit you call an aquarium is the smartphone, no matter what you and your fucking numbers say.”

Linda stepped forward as something inside her dove away and her eyes trembled. She waved her hand like she might conjure a protective wall of statistics. “Step off, Jeff. Step the hell off. I will fire you so fast–“

“MARIE!” I suddenly screamed. She didn’t turn. She kept staring into Jim’s tank. “Stand the fuck up for something! Anything!”

“Don’t pull her into this, Jeff!” Linda replied. “Explain yourself, your language, your…What are you doing, Jeff?”

“What am I doing?” I said. “What the fuck am I doing? What are you doing? Do you ever think, Linda? Jim was the last Amazon River Dolphin, and what did you do every time you were around him? Stared at your fucking phone! Why the fuck did you waste so much God damn time on your phone?”

“Shut up, Jim!” She replied, trembling. “Shut the hell up!”

“HE WAS SPECIAL!”

“Get out,” Linda said. She pointed a finger back the way I’d come. “Get your things, and get the fuck out.” I stared at her for a long time. Neither of us moved. The water filter for the tank groaned in the background. I squinted and tilted my head. Linda remained tight and frozen.

Why did she wait until then to fire me?

I stood there. Linda’s eyes tried to bore into me. I looked back and saw them quivering and terrified. I glanced at her finger raised firmly towards the hall from which I’d emerged, as if she were ordering a monster back into its dark hole.

That’s when I understood.

“Oh,” I said. “So that’s why.”

“Get out,” Linda said. She twitched. Marie’s head sunk further into her shoulders. I nodded at Marie’s back.

“Marie,” I called. “It’s all good. I understand. I know now why you’re a fucking coward.”

“Jeff,” Linda said. Venom lurked in her eyes with all the toxic poise of a snake backed into a corner. “Get…out.”

I actually laughed. I looked from Linda to Marie and back to Linda. “Neither of you gave more than two shits about Jim, did you? You couldn’t afford it.”

“Get out.” The clouds opened up outside and bathed the extensive care tank in moonlight that reflected into the room and purified it, washing it clean of befuddling shadows that stood between me and how I finally understood Linda.

“Because he was doomed from the minute he got here,” I said, leaning forward and spitting the words on the ground in front of Linda. Her head fell marginally, as if to stare at the wet, sticky words on the floor, a mess that not even the Windex pool could wash away.

Terror rose up from beyond her eyes and lashed at me like a whip.

“GET THE FUCK OUT, JEFF!”

I leaned back, lifted my eyebrows, smiled, bounced on my heels once or twice, turned, and left that room, with those sticky words staring Linda in her fat fucking face from that floor awash in blazing moonlight.

I didn’t stay out. A week after I got fired, I came back as a paying customer. I’d heard they’d set up a tribute to Jim down in the dome after they put the seals and manatees back in. The moment I got in the aquarium, I went right to the dome. Linda had set up a big black monitor that said, “Amazon River Dolphin” at the top. Just seeing it made me mad. But hell, that’s all Jim ever was to them. A biochemical sack with a lifespan, diet, and habitat only in the aquarium to bring in more visitors.

Bobby was standing there on his block. Now his questions were about dog fish and blob fish again. He glared at me as I walked in. I looked around. Wise asses, fat asses, and smart asses. All staring at their phones.

I looked back to the screen that said “Amazon River Dolphin.” Screens like it had helped Jim live a lot longer than he would have without them. They let the biologists know what was wrong with him. It all was useful. I know that.

“What happened to the dolphin?” A nasally hipster asked Bobby.

“Sadly, the last Amazon River Dolphin has passed on.”

“HEY!” I shouted at Bobby. Everyone in the room looked at me, and I said, “His name was Jim.”