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zelda_queenZeldaQueen: Okay, ladies and germs, this is it! Harlequin hentai sex, all here in one nasty-ass chapter of grody splooge. I'm not sporking this myself. Honestly, I'm too chicken to touch it with a ten-foot pole. Thankfully though, the very brave, very awesome ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
das_mervin has requested this extra for spork and country. Let's give her a hand, folks!
Oh, and I'm vacating the sporking chamber for this bit. Because of this, the drinking game shall be temporarily put on hold. Don't worry, I'm sure you all will find plenty of points in here to get stone-drunk over.
Also - it probably goes without saying, but this chapter is Not Safe For Work
*pops in tape of Mervin's sporking and runs before the Projection Room Voices can have her caught*
Chapter 15 - Sex Scene
A’right, folks. Here we go—I’m sporking this special DA exclusive “deleted scene” from “Ghosts of the Abyss” for the lovelyzelda_queen . You guys have been hearing about this and wondering if it is true. Well, it is, as you will soon see.
Night, thick as black velvet, had fallen again with a deathly silence, a silence that heralded an approaching tempest.
Got that, folks? It’s dark, and it’s quiet.
I had been awake for sometime, yet Jack still slept at my side, his soft snoring the only sound. I had dressed into a black nightgown with a black robe,
Well, Gethsemane can’t get enough of black. So, let’s throw in some more black.
Oh, and by the by…you’re on a ship. In the middle of the ocean. And it’s a pirate ship. And yet she has a nightgown and a robe. *rolls eyes*
and I now stood at the window, looking out over the dead ocean; not even the waves dared to lap gently at the ship.
Hmm. The ocean has gone as still as a puddle of water. Screw you, moon. Forget you, underwater earthquakes. Up yours, sea life. And go to hell, wind.
In the distance, I could see an ominous blackness, blacker than even the starless night.
IT’S BLACK, PEOPLE. I HOPE YOU CAUGHT THAT IT’S BLACK.
Geez—it reminds me of that “Calvin and Hobbes” strip where Calvin borrows Susie’s black crayon so he can do his drawing of black bears attacking a black campground in the Black Hills at midnight.
The storm would soon be here.
You know, is it just me, or is there always a storm approaching whenever something dramatic is about to happen in Gethsemane’s stories? Using it once I can understand, but EVERY SINGLE TIME YOU WRITE?
I turned towards the door; I had to tell him. I had to go to him and tell him what I knew. It would anger him, surely, yet I had no choice. I could never keep a secret from him. I could never keep such a dark secret from Davy Jones.
Well, doesn’t all this sound familiar—you know, like Bella Swan. Oh, but Gethsemane truly hates Stephenie Meyer and her writing and her characters, don’t you know.
*snip—The Flying Dutchman is anchored in the shallows near The Black Pearl, which makes absolutely no sense whatsoever—a) when did we ever see The Flying Dutchman anchor anywhere except when it was ordered to by Beckett, and b) even if anchored, why the hell would it anchor near The Black Pearl without attacking it? Jones was under orders to destroy the Pearl!* I scaled down the hull of the Pearl, hurried towards the shallows, and finally came to the hull of the haunted ship. I scaled this hull as well, and finally set foot on the deck. I looked about; there was no one on deck, not even a watchman at the helm.
Okay. Let’s examine that.
*looks at it*
I see absolutely no mention of a boat, do you?
Meaning…she walked to The Flying Dutchman.
…
‘Kay, excuse me while I go laugh myself silly for a moment. *does so—comes back a few minutes later*
Gethsemane, allow me to sit you down and explain something. “The shallows” does not mean it’s water shallow enough to walk in. Not to mention that, given the circumstances, the Dutchman and the Pearl would probably NOT be close together. So…fail, honey. BIG fail.
*snip—Katherine wanders around on the deck, gets caught by the hammerhead crewman Maccus, who obligingly allows her to go to Davy Jones’s cabin without any question at all. Anyway, Katherine tells Jones that she overheard her Uncle Barbossa *groans* talking to someone named Calypso, and how Calypso wants to kill Katherine because Jones loves Katherine and it’s very melodramatic and we really don’t care, and Jones says that holding her in the brig won’t do any good, and that she’ll eventually get out of it, and Katherine whines about herself because she can’t stay on the Dutchman because Beckett will tell Jack… something… and she can’t stay on the Pearl because Calypso wants to kill her (go Calypso), and Katherine whines and whines and WHINES and then things start to get…icky*
"What more can he do to me?" he aksed with a humorless laugh.
You stole that line from Bootstrap, bitch, which is particularly vile, considering how much Katherine abuses him in this story. *waves a cutlass at the screen*
"If he kills me, he'll be doing me a favor."
(Davy Jones): Because that means I won’t have to deal with YOU anymore.
"Don't talk like that," I murmured as I placed my hand on the side of his face.
*boggles* Uh, squid-face, anyone?
"You're needed here." "You've become a good liar," he muttered.
I doubt it—her creator sure isn’t. *snicker*
"I'm not lying. Your crew needs you; our world needs you. I need you."
Oh yes. The way he enslaves people and turns them into horrific monsters, the way he cruises about the seas and kills innocent people, the way he’s a heartless (literally) bastard…I can see why we need him.
I leaned forward slightly, our lips only inches apart.
I’m reminded of that Gary Larson cartoon where the caption reads “Scientists labor to discover if animals can kiss.” And on the blackboard behind them, it clearly says “Squid: couldn’t find lips.” Hint hint, Geth.
But he abruptly drew away
"You don't need me," he said darkly. "You have Sparrow."
Good point.
"I do need you," I countered, placing my hands on his powerful arms. "I need you now."
(Katherine): Jack wouldn’t put out!
"What...?"
"You told me you loved me," I said, cutting him off. "Do you still mean it?"
(Davy Jones): Uh—I was drunk at the time!
"Katherine, I -"
"Do you?" I demanded.
"Yes! I do love you, Katherine! But you don't want me! You have Jack!"
*in a dramatic voice* The Young…and the Sueish. Seriously—does she not realize that this is basically a really gross soap opera? Oh, and if you don’t think it’s gross yet, just wait until you see what she has in store for us.
I suddenly felt a lustrous hunger burning inside, one that swept throughout my blood with searing heat, and I kissed him with such passion that it surprised the both of us. My heart beat a tattoo in my breast, and I began to tremble as the kiss broke; I felt as if I were no longer in control of my desires, of my own heart. I needed him, wanted him.
Few things here.
And we are about to read a sex scene involving this thing. Just to make sure we all have the same disgusting image in our heads!
"Do you know how badly I've wanted you?" he whispered huskily. "So badly it hurts."
You know, I really don’t want to know what Davy Jones’s erection looks like, considering he’s mostly a giant crab.
"Davy..."
He kissed me again, gently laying me down on the bed.
"I need you," I sighed. "I want you."
YOU SAID THAT ALREADY.
"You have me all night."
Which is funny, because this is basically just the usual Gethsemane “quick lousy sex” scene.
This was the only encouragement I needed. He lowered his lips to mine,
WHAT lips?! I still don’t get it!!
the kiss soft and tender,
Why did Gethsemane forget that part where Davy Jones is “heartless”? You know—literally?
yet so powerful I felt it in every thrumming fiber of my being. I had become aware of the fact that he had removed my robe, leaving me clad only in my thin nightgown.
Oh. That’s why she has a nightgown. Because you can’t have a romantic love scene without the lover deliberately and sensuously removing the nightgown from his lover’s body.
Lame, Gethsemane.
The kiss broke, and his lips traveled from my lips to my throat. I sighed softly as I wrapped my arms about him. His good hand had begun to wander about my body, and I gasped as it slipped beneath my skirt,
…
I see where you’re going with this. I am begging you to reconsider.
caressed the smooth skin of my leg,
Seriously, Gethsemane, let’s just stop and think about this for a minute, okay?
and then stroked my thighs.
I really, really don’t wanna see this, Gethsemane. This sort of thing does not belong in Harlequin romance…
I cried out softly as the tentacled finger entered me, gently stroking every curve, swell, and hollow, coaxing my body to delicious and decadant rapture as he worked his magic within me.
AUGH!!! AUGH!!! AUGH!!! *flails* GOOD GOD, NO!!!! DO NOT WANT!!!!! DID YOU NOT SEE HOW LONG THAT THING WAS??!!! AND… AND… SUCKERS!!!!! THOSE SUCKERS AREN’T GENTLE AND TENDER, THEY CUT DIVERS ATTACKED BY SQUID OR OCTOPI—THEY ARE DESIGNED TO GRAB AND HOLD PREY!!!!!! AND—AND—OH, GOD, DOESN’T SHE REMEMBER WHAT JACK’S HAND LOOKED LIKE AFTER HE SHOOK HANDS WITH DAVY JONES????!!!!! IT WAS COVERED IN NASTY, GRODY, VOMIT-INDUCING SLIME!!!!!! NOT TO MENTION THAT IN ORDER TO GET HIS HAND OFF OF JACK’S, HE HAD TO PULL BACK REALLY HARD AND ALL BUT RIPPED IT OFF OF HIM!!!!!!
I would say I’m going to go throw up all over myself now, but you know what? I won’t—I’ll save it ‘til later. Because I know if I threw up now, I’d waste a good puke too early in the game.
He succeeded in his quest,
His quest to WHAT? To use his slurm as lube?! *flaps* GROSS!!!
for I was soon writhing upon the bed, moaning his name as release washed over me like a tidal wave.
You know, because they’re at sea. It’s GOOD.
I grew limp, looking up at him with heavily-lidded eyes. However, he was far from finished.
(Davy Jones): Have you ever heard of Saint Agatha? *snaps his claw in the general direction of her boobs*
Sensing this, I reached forward and removed his hat and coat, unceremoniously throwing them to the floor.
Question: I wonder if Jack is ever going to find out that his supposed wife ran over to the man who’s after his soul and had gross sex with him?
He slid my nightgown down my arms, deliberately caressing the skin as he went, over my hips, and down my legs until I was completely bare before him.
What did I tell you?
He threw the nightgown aside, and allowed his hand to wander where it willed. I sighed and moaned. "You're beautiful," he said softly as he looked upon me with a certain childlike awe.
…childlike. Now there’s a word that belongs in a tender love scene even less than tentacles do!
Not to mention that this brings up yet another reason why sex scenes should never, ever be from a first person POV unless the person is an expert (which Gethsemane is most assuredly NOT). You wind up having your character be the most arrogant, conceited, stuck-up, self-absorbed snob in existence. She’s already described how smooth her thighs are, and now gets to describe how Jones is looking at her with awe. And it gets worse—she does nothing but talk about how beautiful and perfect her body is. And you know, while this is bad, what’s worse is the fact that this is something I hoped never to see—harlequin tentacle sex.
I smiled. "Thank you."
(Katherine): Yes, do tell me how lovely I am. Worship me. I’m totally worth it. I pwn a goddess, after all.
He lowered his lips to my skin once more, caressing my neck, collarbone, and finally skating about the soft globes of my breasts.
“Globes”? Please spare me, Gethsemane.
I allowed him to do as he wished; he tasted every inch of my skin with tenderness, yet beneath this I could feel the passion burning inside of him.
I thought Davy Jones was a cold, watery being who was…you know…basically a crustacean with some squid thrown in for awesomeness?
He wanted me, just as I wanted him.
*yawns* Who doesn’t want you, Katherine?
He returned to my lips once more,
How come none of her reviewers pointed out that she was kissing a squid?
and I busied myself with removing his shirt and belt. Once the garments had been cast aside, I moved my hand down the hardened, muscular wall of his body to his trousers.
Um…looks like Gethsemane also missed the point where at least half of his body is a crab. Did she think it ended at his leg and arm, or something? You know, given how wide his body is and how he walks and how he’s not exactly the most flexible of beings, I don’t think the crabbiness ends with his limbs.
"Kate," he murmured huskily as I slowly and sensuously removed them.
HE’S. A. GIANT. CRAB!!!!!
All right—let’s give her the benefit of the doubt for just a tiny moment here, and roll with her apparent delusion that the crab bits don’t extend under his clothing, and he’s otherwise normal. Okay, so that means that he’s Billy Nighy under there. Now, I rather fancy Bill Nighy myself, but even I can admit that a near-seventy old guy is not going to be teh buff!
Oh, and here’s something I haven’t mentioned until now, because I didn’t want to think about it, but I can’t keep quiet any longer. Keep in mind I’m a lover of sea life and the ocean—even deep sea life. I think angler fish and the like are awesome. But you know what? There is something in the ocean I think is the most disgusting thing ever, and Davy Jones happens to be covered in them. Do you know what they are?
BARNACLES.
That’s right. Davy Jones and all of his crew members are covered almost head to toe in nasty, crusty, oozing barnacles. I watched Mike Rowe on “Dirty Jobs” remove barnacles from a buoy once—it was so absolutely disgusting I had to change the channel.
So, yeah—Gethsemane, your character is about to get keelhauled in all the worst possible places.
I can take her romanticizing Jareth. As obviously malicious as he was, he was still mostly a trickster, rather than an evil menace who wanted to murder people.
I can understand her romanticizing Sweeney Todd. He was a murderer and a villain of sorts, but it was brought on by insanity after he was pushed to the limit by forces outside of his control—and he was still pretty, not mutilated in any way.
I’m…rather put off by the fact that she romanticizes the Phantom of the Opera. Erik was clearly deformed and a psychotic, obsessive stalker, but, hey, he had a terrible childhood and he thoughtfully keeps his deformity nicely hidden by that fashionable mask, so Gethsemane can still moon over the parts that are still hot.
But DAVY JONES? He’s a MURDERER, he’s PSYCHOTIC, he’s MALICIOUS, he’s VENGEFUL, he’s NOT HUMAN, and he’s COVERED IN PARASITES. *shakes Gethsemane* WAKE UP, YOU IDIOT!!!!!
I kissed him once more, though caught him off guard when I suddenly shifted so that he was beneath me.
You managed to roll a giant crab who’s very heavy and extremely strong under you?
Chalk up super-strength to Katherine’s list of awesomeness.
His tentacles began to gently lick at my skin again,
TENTACLES. DON’T. LICK.
and I smiled seductively as my hand roamed to his muscular chest.
*sighs* You know, I would do my usual yell of “CRAB, DAMMITALL,” but I pretty much give up at this point.
Upon feeling a raised, jagged line, I stopped and looked down. It was a long scar, running across the left breast, that was nearly white and quite distinguishable from its vicinity. Tears welled in my eyes; I knew of his dark, painful past, yet to see a physical remnant of such torment pained me.
*rubs her forehead* Nothin’. I got nothin’.
"Don't cry, my love," he said softly as he brushed away the few tears that had managed to escape. "Not for me."
*warbling* Don’t cry for me, Argentina!
He kissed me in reassurance, and I continued the exploration of his quivering skin.
Yeah, quivering—as in “invertebrate.”
When I was satisfied that I had not left a single centimeter of his skin untouched,
Hmm. That’s familiar. I can’t imagine where I’ve heard that particular cliché before.
I returned to his lips once more, gently suckling on his lower lip as we kissed again.
Yeah—his ONLY lip. He has no upper lip. Just tentacles.
He gently shifted so that I was beneath him and he had settled between my thighs. He lowered his lips to mine and entered me, drawing my surprised and delighted gasps into his body.
That’s…funny.
The pleasure was indescribable as we began to move in a slow tempo, yet I urged him by arching my hips against his. The rhythm increased and evolved into a passionate dance, our soft moans being the music to which we danced.
I’m sorry, folks. I’m being reduced to laughter over here. This is just too funny. Do you know why?
Because this is a harlequin romance love scene, typical in any trashy romance novel you can pick up for cheap in a bookstore. I’m expected to find it romantic and beautiful and sweeping and all that good stuff.
Except this one has crabs, tentacles, and barnacles.
You expect much from me, Gethsemane.
Pleasure soared to intense, maddening levels within me as my nails raked across his strong back. He held to me tightly, the tentacles caressing my neck and breasts.
…
O_O
Okay. That’s not romantic. At all. That’s just grody.
Although it does give me some hope. Remember what happened to last time his tentacles were that close to someone’s face? Come on, Jones, don’t disappoint me…
He kissed me heatedly, his good hand ensnaring in my hair as the tempo increased still.
You’re gonna have a helluva a time washing that slurm out, yo.
I softly moaned his name, and he mine. When we cried out in the final rapture of glorious release,
*groans* I just…nothing. Absolutely nothing.
I collapsed atop Davy, breathing heavily, covered in a thin, gleaming film of sweat.
…wait a second. She collapsed atop him? But…he was on top two seconds ago…
Continuity is for losers who aren’t Gethsemane.
I could hear nothing but the pounding of my raging heartbeat.
For as second I thought she said it was his. I was about to have a minor tantrum.
He kissed me ardently, and I allowed him to do so, and we separated, breathless. For many moments we stared at one another, lost in the other's eyes.
*wryly* Gethsemane, do you have a “Sex Scene Cliché List” next to your computer that you check off when you write this shit?
I could see in his eyes the flames of furious passion.
Yeah. She does.
And I’m gonna skip the rest. Katherine, after getting a good sexing from a half-crab, half-squid monster with barnacles and sea lice and mussels and other various sea parasites all over him naturally starts whining about how they shouldn’t have done it and how now she’s an adulteress and we’re supposed to disagree with her and tell her how wrong she is and how everything will be perfectly all right yadda yadda yadda. Then Gethsemane tries to make me believe that these two had been going at it for a few HOURS. Oh, as IF.
Anyway, one last statement. I’m not against tentacle sex. I read a totally awesome fic that involved Davy Jones giving Jack a blowjob. And it was revolting and made my skin crawl and was TOTALLY AWESOME. It had some really funny lines, too. But it was deliberately disgusting, and was just a straight up power-play fic, Davy Jones finding another way to subjugate and break Jack. It didn’t try to disguise itself as a sweeping and forbidden romance. It didn’t try to emulate the style of harlequin romance novelists. The author didn’t grab a random trashy romance novel off of her shelf and copy it word-for-word, just replacing the names and throwing in a few sucker-covered body-parts. And the author certainly did NOT ignore the fact that Davy Jones looks ABSOLUTELY DISGUSTING. So, once again, Gethsemane fails. Only this time, she fails harder than she usually does.
HARLEQUIN TENTACLE SEX WITH DAVY JONES.
ZeldaQueen: There, was that fun or what? Once again, many thanks to the wonderful das_mervin for handling that horrible piece of work! *ships many bottles of booze and a large block of chocolate* So yeah, now that that's over with, just canon rape to deal with. But boy howdy, is it a doozy! Ladies and gentlemen, let us move into Part Two of this fic, and watch as Gethesemane shows her ass in regards to how jealous and petty she is over fictional characters
Onward to: Chapter 16
Back to: Chapter 15
Return to: Table of Contents
das_mervin has requested this extra for spork and country. Let's give her a hand, folks!Oh, and I'm vacating the sporking chamber for this bit. Because of this, the drinking game shall be temporarily put on hold. Don't worry, I'm sure you all will find plenty of points in here to get stone-drunk over.
Also - it probably goes without saying, but this chapter is Not Safe For Work
*pops in tape of Mervin's sporking and runs before the Projection Room Voices can have her caught*
Chapter 15 - Sex Scene
A’right, folks. Here we go—I’m sporking this special DA exclusive “deleted scene” from “Ghosts of the Abyss” for the lovely
zelda_queen . You guys have been hearing about this and wondering if it is true. Well, it is, as you will soon see.Night, thick as black velvet, had fallen again with a deathly silence, a silence that heralded an approaching tempest.
Got that, folks? It’s dark, and it’s quiet.
I had been awake for sometime, yet Jack still slept at my side, his soft snoring the only sound. I had dressed into a black nightgown with a black robe,
Well, Gethsemane can’t get enough of black. So, let’s throw in some more black.
Oh, and by the by…you’re on a ship. In the middle of the ocean. And it’s a pirate ship. And yet she has a nightgown and a robe. *rolls eyes*
and I now stood at the window, looking out over the dead ocean; not even the waves dared to lap gently at the ship.
Hmm. The ocean has gone as still as a puddle of water. Screw you, moon. Forget you, underwater earthquakes. Up yours, sea life. And go to hell, wind.
In the distance, I could see an ominous blackness, blacker than even the starless night.
IT’S BLACK, PEOPLE. I HOPE YOU CAUGHT THAT IT’S BLACK.
Geez—it reminds me of that “Calvin and Hobbes” strip where Calvin borrows Susie’s black crayon so he can do his drawing of black bears attacking a black campground in the Black Hills at midnight.
The storm would soon be here.
You know, is it just me, or is there always a storm approaching whenever something dramatic is about to happen in Gethsemane’s stories? Using it once I can understand, but EVERY SINGLE TIME YOU WRITE?
I turned towards the door; I had to tell him. I had to go to him and tell him what I knew. It would anger him, surely, yet I had no choice. I could never keep a secret from him. I could never keep such a dark secret from Davy Jones.
Well, doesn’t all this sound familiar—you know, like Bella Swan. Oh, but Gethsemane truly hates Stephenie Meyer and her writing and her characters, don’t you know.
*snip—The Flying Dutchman is anchored in the shallows near The Black Pearl, which makes absolutely no sense whatsoever—a) when did we ever see The Flying Dutchman anchor anywhere except when it was ordered to by Beckett, and b) even if anchored, why the hell would it anchor near The Black Pearl without attacking it? Jones was under orders to destroy the Pearl!* I scaled down the hull of the Pearl, hurried towards the shallows, and finally came to the hull of the haunted ship. I scaled this hull as well, and finally set foot on the deck. I looked about; there was no one on deck, not even a watchman at the helm.
Okay. Let’s examine that.
*looks at it*
I see absolutely no mention of a boat, do you?
Meaning…she walked to The Flying Dutchman.
…
‘Kay, excuse me while I go laugh myself silly for a moment. *does so—comes back a few minutes later*
Gethsemane, allow me to sit you down and explain something. “The shallows” does not mean it’s water shallow enough to walk in. Not to mention that, given the circumstances, the Dutchman and the Pearl would probably NOT be close together. So…fail, honey. BIG fail.
*snip—Katherine wanders around on the deck, gets caught by the hammerhead crewman Maccus, who obligingly allows her to go to Davy Jones’s cabin without any question at all. Anyway, Katherine tells Jones that she overheard her Uncle Barbossa *groans* talking to someone named Calypso, and how Calypso wants to kill Katherine because Jones loves Katherine and it’s very melodramatic and we really don’t care, and Jones says that holding her in the brig won’t do any good, and that she’ll eventually get out of it, and Katherine whines about herself because she can’t stay on the Dutchman because Beckett will tell Jack… something… and she can’t stay on the Pearl because Calypso wants to kill her (go Calypso), and Katherine whines and whines and WHINES and then things start to get…icky*
"What more can he do to me?" he aksed with a humorless laugh.
You stole that line from Bootstrap, bitch, which is particularly vile, considering how much Katherine abuses him in this story. *waves a cutlass at the screen*
"If he kills me, he'll be doing me a favor."
(Davy Jones): Because that means I won’t have to deal with YOU anymore.
"Don't talk like that," I murmured as I placed my hand on the side of his face.
*boggles* Uh, squid-face, anyone?
"You're needed here." "You've become a good liar," he muttered.
I doubt it—her creator sure isn’t. *snicker*
"I'm not lying. Your crew needs you; our world needs you. I need you."
Oh yes. The way he enslaves people and turns them into horrific monsters, the way he cruises about the seas and kills innocent people, the way he’s a heartless (literally) bastard…I can see why we need him.
I leaned forward slightly, our lips only inches apart.
I’m reminded of that Gary Larson cartoon where the caption reads “Scientists labor to discover if animals can kiss.” And on the blackboard behind them, it clearly says “Squid: couldn’t find lips.” Hint hint, Geth.
But he abruptly drew away
"You don't need me," he said darkly. "You have Sparrow."
Good point.
"I do need you," I countered, placing my hands on his powerful arms. "I need you now."
(Katherine): Jack wouldn’t put out!
"What...?"
"You told me you loved me," I said, cutting him off. "Do you still mean it?"
(Davy Jones): Uh—I was drunk at the time!
"Katherine, I -"
"Do you?" I demanded.
"Yes! I do love you, Katherine! But you don't want me! You have Jack!"
*in a dramatic voice* The Young…and the Sueish. Seriously—does she not realize that this is basically a really gross soap opera? Oh, and if you don’t think it’s gross yet, just wait until you see what she has in store for us.
I suddenly felt a lustrous hunger burning inside, one that swept throughout my blood with searing heat, and I kissed him with such passion that it surprised the both of us. My heart beat a tattoo in my breast, and I began to tremble as the kiss broke; I felt as if I were no longer in control of my desires, of my own heart. I needed him, wanted him.
Few things here.
- That’s exactly how she initiated sex with Sweeney Todd. Now I’m tempted to look through all her fics and see that’s how she starts all of her sex scenes. It wouldn’t surprise me.
- That was so harlequin I don’t know what to say.
- …she’s kissing a squid. A squid. And expects me to think it’s romantic.
"Do you know how badly I've wanted you?" he whispered huskily. "So badly it hurts."
You know, I really don’t want to know what Davy Jones’s erection looks like, considering he’s mostly a giant crab.
"Davy..."
He kissed me again, gently laying me down on the bed.
"I need you," I sighed. "I want you."
YOU SAID THAT ALREADY.
"You have me all night."
Which is funny, because this is basically just the usual Gethsemane “quick lousy sex” scene.
This was the only encouragement I needed. He lowered his lips to mine,
WHAT lips?! I still don’t get it!!
the kiss soft and tender,
Why did Gethsemane forget that part where Davy Jones is “heartless”? You know—literally?
yet so powerful I felt it in every thrumming fiber of my being. I had become aware of the fact that he had removed my robe, leaving me clad only in my thin nightgown.
Oh. That’s why she has a nightgown. Because you can’t have a romantic love scene without the lover deliberately and sensuously removing the nightgown from his lover’s body.
Lame, Gethsemane.
The kiss broke, and his lips traveled from my lips to my throat. I sighed softly as I wrapped my arms about him. His good hand had begun to wander about my body, and I gasped as it slipped beneath my skirt,
…
I see where you’re going with this. I am begging you to reconsider.
caressed the smooth skin of my leg,
Seriously, Gethsemane, let’s just stop and think about this for a minute, okay?
and then stroked my thighs.
I really, really don’t wanna see this, Gethsemane. This sort of thing does not belong in Harlequin romance…
I cried out softly as the tentacled finger entered me, gently stroking every curve, swell, and hollow, coaxing my body to delicious and decadant rapture as he worked his magic within me.
AUGH!!! AUGH!!! AUGH!!! *flails* GOOD GOD, NO!!!! DO NOT WANT!!!!! DID YOU NOT SEE HOW LONG THAT THING WAS??!!! AND… AND… SUCKERS!!!!! THOSE SUCKERS AREN’T GENTLE AND TENDER, THEY CUT DIVERS ATTACKED BY SQUID OR OCTOPI—THEY ARE DESIGNED TO GRAB AND HOLD PREY!!!!!! AND—AND—OH, GOD, DOESN’T SHE REMEMBER WHAT JACK’S HAND LOOKED LIKE AFTER HE SHOOK HANDS WITH DAVY JONES????!!!!! IT WAS COVERED IN NASTY, GRODY, VOMIT-INDUCING SLIME!!!!!! NOT TO MENTION THAT IN ORDER TO GET HIS HAND OFF OF JACK’S, HE HAD TO PULL BACK REALLY HARD AND ALL BUT RIPPED IT OFF OF HIM!!!!!!
I would say I’m going to go throw up all over myself now, but you know what? I won’t—I’ll save it ‘til later. Because I know if I threw up now, I’d waste a good puke too early in the game.
He succeeded in his quest,
His quest to WHAT? To use his slurm as lube?! *flaps* GROSS!!!
for I was soon writhing upon the bed, moaning his name as release washed over me like a tidal wave.
You know, because they’re at sea. It’s GOOD.
I grew limp, looking up at him with heavily-lidded eyes. However, he was far from finished.
(Davy Jones): Have you ever heard of Saint Agatha? *snaps his claw in the general direction of her boobs*
Sensing this, I reached forward and removed his hat and coat, unceremoniously throwing them to the floor.
Question: I wonder if Jack is ever going to find out that his supposed wife ran over to the man who’s after his soul and had gross sex with him?
He slid my nightgown down my arms, deliberately caressing the skin as he went, over my hips, and down my legs until I was completely bare before him.
What did I tell you?
He threw the nightgown aside, and allowed his hand to wander where it willed. I sighed and moaned. "You're beautiful," he said softly as he looked upon me with a certain childlike awe.
…childlike. Now there’s a word that belongs in a tender love scene even less than tentacles do!
Not to mention that this brings up yet another reason why sex scenes should never, ever be from a first person POV unless the person is an expert (which Gethsemane is most assuredly NOT). You wind up having your character be the most arrogant, conceited, stuck-up, self-absorbed snob in existence. She’s already described how smooth her thighs are, and now gets to describe how Jones is looking at her with awe. And it gets worse—she does nothing but talk about how beautiful and perfect her body is. And you know, while this is bad, what’s worse is the fact that this is something I hoped never to see—harlequin tentacle sex.
I smiled. "Thank you."
(Katherine): Yes, do tell me how lovely I am. Worship me. I’m totally worth it. I pwn a goddess, after all.
He lowered his lips to my skin once more, caressing my neck, collarbone, and finally skating about the soft globes of my breasts.
“Globes”? Please spare me, Gethsemane.
I allowed him to do as he wished; he tasted every inch of my skin with tenderness, yet beneath this I could feel the passion burning inside of him.
I thought Davy Jones was a cold, watery being who was…you know…basically a crustacean with some squid thrown in for awesomeness?
He wanted me, just as I wanted him.
*yawns* Who doesn’t want you, Katherine?
He returned to my lips once more,
How come none of her reviewers pointed out that she was kissing a squid?
and I busied myself with removing his shirt and belt. Once the garments had been cast aside, I moved my hand down the hardened, muscular wall of his body to his trousers.
Um…looks like Gethsemane also missed the point where at least half of his body is a crab. Did she think it ended at his leg and arm, or something? You know, given how wide his body is and how he walks and how he’s not exactly the most flexible of beings, I don’t think the crabbiness ends with his limbs.
"Kate," he murmured huskily as I slowly and sensuously removed them.
See, there she goes again. “Check out how sensuous I am.” *rolls eyes* BOR-ING.
I withdrew from his kiss then, and looked upon him. He was purely muscular; every ounce of power he possessed was evident in his sensual physique.HE’S. A. GIANT. CRAB!!!!!
All right—let’s give her the benefit of the doubt for just a tiny moment here, and roll with her apparent delusion that the crab bits don’t extend under his clothing, and he’s otherwise normal. Okay, so that means that he’s Billy Nighy under there. Now, I rather fancy Bill Nighy myself, but even I can admit that a near-seventy old guy is not going to be teh buff!
Oh, and here’s something I haven’t mentioned until now, because I didn’t want to think about it, but I can’t keep quiet any longer. Keep in mind I’m a lover of sea life and the ocean—even deep sea life. I think angler fish and the like are awesome. But you know what? There is something in the ocean I think is the most disgusting thing ever, and Davy Jones happens to be covered in them. Do you know what they are?
BARNACLES.
That’s right. Davy Jones and all of his crew members are covered almost head to toe in nasty, crusty, oozing barnacles. I watched Mike Rowe on “Dirty Jobs” remove barnacles from a buoy once—it was so absolutely disgusting I had to change the channel.
So, yeah—Gethsemane, your character is about to get keelhauled in all the worst possible places.
I can take her romanticizing Jareth. As obviously malicious as he was, he was still mostly a trickster, rather than an evil menace who wanted to murder people.
I can understand her romanticizing Sweeney Todd. He was a murderer and a villain of sorts, but it was brought on by insanity after he was pushed to the limit by forces outside of his control—and he was still pretty, not mutilated in any way.
I’m…rather put off by the fact that she romanticizes the Phantom of the Opera. Erik was clearly deformed and a psychotic, obsessive stalker, but, hey, he had a terrible childhood and he thoughtfully keeps his deformity nicely hidden by that fashionable mask, so Gethsemane can still moon over the parts that are still hot.
But DAVY JONES? He’s a MURDERER, he’s PSYCHOTIC, he’s MALICIOUS, he’s VENGEFUL, he’s NOT HUMAN, and he’s COVERED IN PARASITES. *shakes Gethsemane* WAKE UP, YOU IDIOT!!!!!
I kissed him once more, though caught him off guard when I suddenly shifted so that he was beneath me.
You managed to roll a giant crab who’s very heavy and extremely strong under you?
Chalk up super-strength to Katherine’s list of awesomeness.
His tentacles began to gently lick at my skin again,
TENTACLES. DON’T. LICK.
and I smiled seductively as my hand roamed to his muscular chest.
*sighs* You know, I would do my usual yell of “CRAB, DAMMITALL,” but I pretty much give up at this point.
Upon feeling a raised, jagged line, I stopped and looked down. It was a long scar, running across the left breast, that was nearly white and quite distinguishable from its vicinity. Tears welled in my eyes; I knew of his dark, painful past, yet to see a physical remnant of such torment pained me.
*rubs her forehead* Nothin’. I got nothin’.
"Don't cry, my love," he said softly as he brushed away the few tears that had managed to escape. "Not for me."
*warbling* Don’t cry for me, Argentina!
He kissed me in reassurance, and I continued the exploration of his quivering skin.
Yeah, quivering—as in “invertebrate.”
When I was satisfied that I had not left a single centimeter of his skin untouched,
Hmm. That’s familiar. I can’t imagine where I’ve heard that particular cliché before.
I returned to his lips once more, gently suckling on his lower lip as we kissed again.
Yeah—his ONLY lip. He has no upper lip. Just tentacles.
He gently shifted so that I was beneath him and he had settled between my thighs. He lowered his lips to mine and entered me, drawing my surprised and delighted gasps into his body.
That’s…funny.
The pleasure was indescribable as we began to move in a slow tempo, yet I urged him by arching my hips against his. The rhythm increased and evolved into a passionate dance, our soft moans being the music to which we danced.
I’m sorry, folks. I’m being reduced to laughter over here. This is just too funny. Do you know why?
Because this is a harlequin romance love scene, typical in any trashy romance novel you can pick up for cheap in a bookstore. I’m expected to find it romantic and beautiful and sweeping and all that good stuff.
Except this one has crabs, tentacles, and barnacles.
You expect much from me, Gethsemane.
Pleasure soared to intense, maddening levels within me as my nails raked across his strong back. He held to me tightly, the tentacles caressing my neck and breasts.
…
O_O
Okay. That’s not romantic. At all. That’s just grody.
Although it does give me some hope. Remember what happened to last time his tentacles were that close to someone’s face? Come on, Jones, don’t disappoint me…
He kissed me heatedly, his good hand ensnaring in my hair as the tempo increased still.
You’re gonna have a helluva a time washing that slurm out, yo.
I softly moaned his name, and he mine. When we cried out in the final rapture of glorious release,
*groans* I just…nothing. Absolutely nothing.
I collapsed atop Davy, breathing heavily, covered in a thin, gleaming film of sweat.
…wait a second. She collapsed atop him? But…he was on top two seconds ago…
Continuity is for losers who aren’t Gethsemane.
I could hear nothing but the pounding of my raging heartbeat.
For as second I thought she said it was his. I was about to have a minor tantrum.
He kissed me ardently, and I allowed him to do so, and we separated, breathless. For many moments we stared at one another, lost in the other's eyes.
*wryly* Gethsemane, do you have a “Sex Scene Cliché List” next to your computer that you check off when you write this shit?
I could see in his eyes the flames of furious passion.
Yeah. She does.
And I’m gonna skip the rest. Katherine, after getting a good sexing from a half-crab, half-squid monster with barnacles and sea lice and mussels and other various sea parasites all over him naturally starts whining about how they shouldn’t have done it and how now she’s an adulteress and we’re supposed to disagree with her and tell her how wrong she is and how everything will be perfectly all right yadda yadda yadda. Then Gethsemane tries to make me believe that these two had been going at it for a few HOURS. Oh, as IF.
Anyway, one last statement. I’m not against tentacle sex. I read a totally awesome fic that involved Davy Jones giving Jack a blowjob. And it was revolting and made my skin crawl and was TOTALLY AWESOME. It had some really funny lines, too. But it was deliberately disgusting, and was just a straight up power-play fic, Davy Jones finding another way to subjugate and break Jack. It didn’t try to disguise itself as a sweeping and forbidden romance. It didn’t try to emulate the style of harlequin romance novelists. The author didn’t grab a random trashy romance novel off of her shelf and copy it word-for-word, just replacing the names and throwing in a few sucker-covered body-parts. And the author certainly did NOT ignore the fact that Davy Jones looks ABSOLUTELY DISGUSTING. So, once again, Gethsemane fails. Only this time, she fails harder than she usually does.
HARLEQUIN TENTACLE SEX WITH DAVY JONES.
ZeldaQueen: There, was that fun or what? Once again, many thanks to the wonderful das_mervin for handling that horrible piece of work! *ships many bottles of booze and a large block of chocolate* So yeah, now that that's over with, just canon rape to deal with. But boy howdy, is it a doozy! Ladies and gentlemen, let us move into Part Two of this fic, and watch as Gethesemane shows her ass in regards to how jealous and petty she is over fictional characters
Onward to: Chapter 16
Back to: Chapter 15
Return to: Table of Contents