#i still can’t believe adelaide canonically fucked zip tbh

[adelaidedrubman]

wip wednesday but like not really

not really, truly doing wip wednesday because it’s been so long and not tagging anyone because i feel odd and this isn’t really a wip so much as me chucking a cut scene into the ether bc it’s been forever but. anyways sharing writing on wednesday ig here is forgotten and recently rediscovered jestiny’s sexually charged fishing monologue (fishing charged sex monologue?) cut from wildfire

ig warnings for sexual dialogue partially expressed via loving descriptions of catching and killing fish. fishing is a metaphor for sex is a metaphor for death is a metaphor for fishing you get it

“You mind taking care of this one on your own, honey?” Adelaide’s voice drew Jessie from her musings as the car came to a stop midway in the gravel drive. “Not a notch on the bedpost I brag about, but I did make the misstep of sleeping with Zip a while back. Worst fuck of my life,” she recounted with a shudder of disgust. “Just laid there like a fish.”

“A dead fish?” Jessie asked, reorienting herself.

“The hell other kind would I mean?” Adelaide replied. “Dead and washed up. Now I can’t look at him without picturing that blank, lifeless stare and dumb gaping mouth.”

“Ew,” Jestiny agreed, unbuckling her seatbelt. “Definitely want a live one on the line, at least. Have the entertainment of ’em flopping and flailing instead of just hanging off your hook.”

“Think I lost your innuendo there, hun. Haven’t had a lotta ‘fondly reminisce while soaking in the tub with a glass of wine and the air jets on’ encounters I’d use the words ‘flopping and flailing’ to describe, either.”

“Not literally, it’s just — You know — It’s… Fish, you —” She huffed, resting a hand atop the door handle, not yet pulling. “That’s the point of fish, right? They’re alive?”

She nervously drummed her fingers against the handle of the door as Adelaide stared on in questioning silence, continuing, “They’re alive, and on the hook. Alive, but it’s too late. Alive, and staring down their doom. Alive, and knowing on fuckin’ instinct they won’t be for much longer. Alive, but already dead.”

She jiggled the handle, just barely, testing the resistance, how far she could push before opening it.

“That’s what makes it exciting, right? They’re alive when you catch them? That’s what makes fishing more fun than hunting. You don’t just aim and let your gun do the work then go pick up the carcass like a dog playing fetch. You feel them fighting on the line. Trying to match strength — since they already failed matching wits,” she said with a snort of laughter at her own musing. “You’re putting your back into reeling ’em in, all desperate and thrashing. Then when you get that rush of finally pulling them out of the water — hook still in their mouth, first brush of air hitting their gills to send ’em into overdrive?”

Jestiny tilted her head to the side, trailing her index along the seal of the window and watching the way the dust clung to skin.

“A dying fish, I guess. That’s what you want. Because they are dying, right? Even before they’re out of the water and suffocating, before you bring down your knife to stab right through their tiny brain and finally end it!” She paused to catch her breath, a few heavy rises and falls of her chest. “They’re dying as soon as you spot the ripple in the water. They’re dying as soon as they spot the lure and start swimming.” She turned back towards Adelaide. “I mean, it’s kind of a funny saying, when you think about it, right? ‘A live one?’”

Adelaide quirked an eyebrow.

“It’s funny,” she said again, this time clearly insisting rather than asking. “We don’t really ever call fish that when they’re splashing around in the water, safe and sound — no matter how much energy they’re doing it with. No, we only say a fish is ‘a live one’ once it’s on the hook.”

Jessie smirked, crooking a finger at the corner of her mouth and stretching it further out in illustration. “A fish is only ‘a live one’ when it’s already dead.”

“Huh,” Adelaide offered in response, taking a moment to study Jessie’s face. “Not sure they have that one even in the big city sex clubs, kiddo.”

“It’s fuckin’ metaphorical,” she grumbled as she finally jerk the handle with full force and kicked the door to open, shooting Adelaide a glare as she hopped down and took her leave. “Thought you liked locker room talk and shit.”

aaaaaaand here’s what all that ultimately got whittled down to in the current draft (but i had to let her get it out of her system first ig)

“Oof,” Jestiny supplied in solidarity as she hopped out. “Never had much patience for pillow princesses, myself.” She shoved a hand into her pocket to fidget with her radio, trying to resist flicking the power knob to its ‘on’ position prematurely. She offered with a wink and a click of her tongue against teeth, “Definitely better to have a live one on the line.”