You’ve been in Eridan’s room for days. And holy shit, you are bored.
“Eridan,” you complain, flopping back on the bed, “I am bored, and there is nothing left in your gigantic, over-extravagant, aquatic themed room that can entertain me anymore.”
“Yeah, well, what the fuck you want me to do about it,” your friend says, but almost absentmindedly, as his nose is buried deep within the history book you got him his last birthday. You sigh, roll off the bed, and poke him in the side. “Ouch! What was that for?”
“I said I was bored, Eridan. Isn’t it a host’s duty to entertain their guest?” you lightly tease, but at the same time you’re serious. You’ve exhausted your resource of bad, witty puns, much to Eridan’s groaning relief (“I get enough of that from Fef and Nep, c’mon now”) and discussed all your conversation starters. God forbid you play twenty questions again. You just might die of boredom.
“Why don’t you read or draw somethin’, I’m almost finished with this book,” he says dismissively, flapping a hand at you. You scowl heavily at him, but his attention is already refocused on the dense walls of text lettered across the page, so instead, you decide to leave yourself and find entertainment. You open the door and descend down the stairs of their lavish home.
You’ve heard of his older brother, Cronus, via Eridan (mostly through complaints), and met him before, but it was mostly him dropping slimy pickup lines and you feeling unsettled until Eridan swooped in shouting insults at him and you made good your escape. So your opinion is not that fond. Lucky for you, he seems to be out.
Eridan’s dad, however, is home. You can hear him busily doing whatever he does as a job in his office, muttering to himself and occasionally swearing.
God, he is so hot.
But he’s Eridan’s dad, so he’s off limits. Inwardly, you heave the deepest sigh to ever sigh. Just a quick conversation wouldn’t hurt, would it? Even though you’ve told Eridan your opinion on his paternal unit, he was still engrossed in that book. Surely…
Your mind is made up. You make your way to Orpheus “Dualscar” Ampora’s office, determined to talk to his intimidating hot dad.
As you saunter in, he looks up from his work. The moody look gradually shifts into a half-smile, and he greets you in that deep, gravelly voice of his, making your knees tremble and your Swoon Levels rise on a somewhat more rapid scale than you’re used to. Nonetheless, you stand firm and greet him back in the most charming manner possible.
He nods, and asks, “So why aren’t you with Eridan? Thought you two were hanging around.”
“He’s busy reading his books,” you reply flippantly, and make eyes at him. You think he’s noticed. Maybe. Somewhat. Sort of, kind of. Hopefully. “So I was craving some attentive company for once.”
He lets out a light chuckle (Swoon Levels max to a dangerously high extent; you may need to cool off from the flirting). “Sorry to disappoint ye, lassie, but I may be as neglectful with ye as m’son is. Got work to do.”
“Ah, you do, don’t you!” you exclaim, swaying your way over to his table. “Mind if I take a look?”
“Go right ahead.” He pats his lap; almost disbelieving, you sit, your crotch pressed against his. He’s not hard but perhaps you could change that later.
Or now, y’know, since sharing the same space with Eridan for a summer and trying to get off periodically at the same time doesn’t bode well. He doesn’t have a good sense of personal space, or privacy, for that manner, and you’ve been unable to peacefully masturbate for a good month or so. It’s practically hell.
So, you grind down a little, not enough to seem deliberate if you’re called out on it but enough to create some friction. He grunts and shifts, his arms reaching around you to finish doing his work. You’re paying less attention to the papers on his desk than on what’s currently pushing against you.
You grind down again, eliciting a surprised breath, which makes you almost positive he noticed this time. Much to your shock, though, he doesn’t push you off, nor does he ask you what the hell you think you’re doing.
He grinds back. You’re the one gasping this time, feeling him stiffen against your backside. His fingers uncurl from the pen he’s holding, dropping it, and tickle up your stomach to grasp your breast, lightly squeezing the soft flesh through the shirt you borrowed from Eridan; black, with the purple zigzags of Aquarius going across it. In a way, it makes you feel like one of them, not just a friend slash moirail visiting their grand Arizona home for the summer. You arch your back, moving your hips now in the most clear way you can, signaling that yes, you want this, this was the intention all along because you’re a fourteen year old horndog who gets an erection when the wind blows over the grass. That was an exaggeration, you’re not fourteen, and you certainly don’t get erections over something as trivial as grass.
“God damn,” he breathes into your ear. You moan and move your hips faster, and his other hand presses against your crotch, searching out your most sensitive points and using his fingers to press into them, stimulating them to the point where you’re moaning, hapless, your body being rubbed and ground and fondled to climax by your best friend’s hot dad, oh jeez, this is really happening. Shit, man, you’re doing it. You’re makin’ this happen.
The now prominent bump of his erection is being thrust against you through his dress pants and he leans his forehead against you, though he bumps his chin up to whisper, “Keep it down. Don’t want Eridan to hear, now don’t we?”
You nod, almost frantically, and continue pressing your arousal against him, your arm going back to curl into his hair, desperately, spiraling your grinds into circles that hit all the right points of stimulation. His fingers at your chest pinch your budded nipple through the fabric, and then you’re coming, biting down on your lip to try to muffle a cry but a few panting, stuttering moans bite their way through, sounding absurdly awkward and somewhat cute.
Behind you, another chuckle. He still has an erection, but when you frantically attempt to get up and consider it, he pushes your hands away. “No, don’t worry about it, lass,” he tells you. “I’ll take care of it. You go get changed. You’re probably messy.”
You try to speak and it comes out as a husky croak. “Mm, yeah.” You blush and Orpheus leans forward to kiss your cheek.
“Nice seein’ ya, girlie. Come and entertain me again next time, why won’t you?”
You make your way up the stairs with trembling legs, and Eridan’s still in the bedroom when you open the door, but his face is suspiciously deep into his book. That might sound strange, but when you say suspicious, you mean his entire face is pressed to the page and he’s attempting to shut it on his ears.
“…Eridan?” you try.
He doesn’t respond. “Um.”
Then he says, “Oh my God if you wanted to get off that badly you could’ve asked just not so loudly next time okay that had to be the strangest pale boner I’ve ever gotten and I’ve gotten a fair amount of pale boners from Fef and Kar lemme tell you that much.”
So he didn’t hear you fucking his dad. Thank. Fucking. God. “Well, uhh. Okay? I’ll try to keep that in mind.”
He still won’t look at you. The tips of his ears are red; they’re the only parts of his face you can see.
You decide to omit the details, and you go into the bathroom to change. Fucking Amporas, man.
In case it wasn’t obvious, this is by no means insulting these ships, it is insulting particularly bad, out-of-character, and willfully ignorant popular fanon for each of these otherwise fantastic ships.
All these ships were from the suggestion box I opened up a few days ago.
okay im tired of seeing that “the gems are canonically non-binary!!” post cuz i have seen literally ZERO sources on that shit and its literally just getting people’s hopes up for something that IMO probably is not true
does that mean Pearl does that dance every morning omfg
and has anyone else gotten really excited about the seatbelt thing oh my god that made me so happy and these “cool” kids are just big dorks that are cool because they’re themselves and they accept who they are and I just my favorite part was the seatbelt thing ugH
ISTJ: The one in denial that there’s actually a killer
ISFJ: The one who calls out “Who’s there?” as if the killer will answer
ESTJ: The one who tries to tell everyone else what to do
ESFJ: The one who screams at everything
ISTP: The one who finds a really good hiding place
ISFP: The one who dies first
ESTP: The one wondering around without a flashlight
ESFP: The one who tries to hook up with the killer
INFJ: The one who knows what’s going on but no one will listen to them
ENFJ: The one who keeps saying “It’ll be ok” even though they don’t believe it
INFP: The one who sacrifices themselves
ENFP: The one who figures out who the killer is a little too late
INTJ: The one who everyone thinks is the killer
ENTJ: The one who tries to fight back but ends up dead
INTP: The one who created the monster
ENTP: The one who makes it until the end
Nick Carraway is queer. Good bye.
Pretty sure Nick fucks a dude from that awful party at the beginning of the book. Literally the only way that scene makes sense.
So yes. Nick Carraway is totally queer.
I love readings of this book that reject the white hetero-ness that people think has to be canon.
Nick’s queer reading makes so much sense if you think about how he rejects the majority of West Egg (or whatever egg it is) but still holds Gatsby up on a pedestal. He calls everyone there selfish but thinks Gatsby (who I’ll argue is still rather selfish) represents this amazing sense of hope and perseverance.
The “Gatsby is Black” reading is so damn good and makes the entire book so much more interesting. Along with Queer!Nick, they make the book a far more enriching read.
Like, the Great Gatsby is a book about classism and the unattainability of the American Dream for the marginalized and the disillusionment of the young in the years just before the great depression.
Reading all the characters as white straight people misses a huge opportunity to explore those themes within a wider and more meaningful context.