empressofmankind

[empressofmankind]

Might have been done before but silly tag game. Who is prev's blorbo?

[empressofmankind]

Team Triassic III - Old Friends

[Crocodile x Shivs (F!OC)]

Teen and up - 16k - has smut

(A/N): I know, I know, it's been a minute since @tiredemomama and I updated. In our defence, this chapter is 16k and it has smut! TWICE! And I know some of these dinosaurs were discovered (or described) post the 2015 setting of Jurassic World, but lemme have my floofy colourful dinosaurs, dammit! This chapter is so unkind to Crocodile, all these p-words and consonant clusters. I cannot unhear Croc pronouncing them as bterosauria, bterodactul, and bteranodon. And poor Claire, she didn’t mean to look the way she did with it. Also, book Hammond is dead to me. Attenborough will be Walt Dino forever.

Tag(s): Feel good slice-of-life. Mildly diabetes-inducing romantic affection. Fluff with plot hints! Some action? Some action. Rampant pet dinosaurs. They're lesbians, Masrani. Gratuitous public smut. Crack fic. CC x OP cross over.

If you haven't yet read the 2nd chapter, you can find it here. And if the fic is completely new to you, the 1st chapter is here.

🏝️🏝️🏝️

Di-ding! Di-ding!

The miniature dinosaur timer chimed emphatically through the cramped kitchen. Jenny bounced up from the herb dip she had been piling into a claw-shaped bowl and wiped her hands on the nearest dish towel. She rushed to open the oven, only to be blasted by the heat that billowed out.

“Deedee, can you please clear counter space? These need to cool!” Jenny called over her shoulder as she used the dish towel to pull the tray of cookies from the oven. They were peanut butter cookies she’d cut into the shape of dinosaurs - there were tiny Tyrannosaurus and Stegosaurus, and even a few Pterodactyls.

She gingerly lifted them from the baking paper, arranging the cookies on a large green platter in the shape of a Triceratops’ head before handing it to Dakota.

“Do you want me to grab anything else?” 

Jenny shook her head as she took the dip in one hand and a platter of wraps in the other. “Just get the door?”

Dakota was quick to do so, balancing the cookie tray in one hand while she held the cabin’s screen door open. She couldn’t resist stealing a kiss as Jenny passed.

Jenny’s cheeks flushed pink. “Don’t make me drop these!” she giggled. “They took forever!”

A soft laugh escaped Dakota as she let the screen door swing shut behind her and followed Jenny. They weaved around the shrubs and ornamental rocks bordering the woodchip path that opened onto a firepit in the center of the ring of cabins. The trial program would only use two of the six cabins; their counselor’s cabin and one for the kids. Apparently, the junior counselor would bunk with them.

The firepit was generous in size, with benches circled around it at staggered intervals. Four were on the inner circle and six more on the outer circle. Once things were in full swing, the camp could easily house thirty youth rangers. Long wooden picnic tables stood beneath a pine-green pavilion a few yards away. Jenny had set up the food for the welcome party there. It felt like she had snuck in enough decorations for a child’s full-blown birthday party, if that child was a dino nut. Streamers in bright blues and forest greens hung from the pavilion, and coordinating balloons were tied to each table in bunches. She had applied chalk to draw dinosaur footprints on the concrete slab beneath their feet, and scurried up tablecloths with fossils printed on them.

“Put them over there, next to the eggs!” Jenny gestured at the chocolate pudding cups she’d layered with crushed cookies and small candy eggs, near the end of the table.

As Dakota did so, she spotted a tag near the space that read: ‘Cretaceous Chews’ in green glitter. Jenny had named all the food, and Dakota chuckled at the ‘Dino Dig’ sign near the pudding cups. There were also ‘Veloci-wraps’, turkey wraps with salad; and ‘Meteor Meat Pies’, comprising puff pastries stuffed with ground beef and cheese. Her favorite was the ‘Stegosaurus Spikes’, a vegetable tray Jenny had made to look like the spiked dinosaur and set beside a bowl of ‘Herb-ivore Dip’.

If there was one thing Jenny did exceptionally well, it was planning a party.

The kids could socialize at the small mixer while their parents addressed any last queries before summer farewells. Jenny had taken it as serious as any other function. They had arrived late the previous evening, but she’d toiled through half the night to prepare the food now presented in all its colorful splendor on the picnic table. She had also spruced up the camp hangout. Somehow, all the ingredients and items had fit in her duffel bag and suitcase.

“Can you help me with the punch?” Jenny called once she’d checked for the third time whether everything was in its proper place. Claire had told her to expect the campers around three o’clock. The park manager would pick them up at the nearby docks and take them to camp. It was well over half an hour’s drive from the dock, presuming the ferry arrived on time.

Dakota trotted after Jenny up the path, holding the door open once they reached their cabin.

“I suppose it’s not a party without the ‘Paleozoic Punch’,” Dakota chuckled while Jenny added an enormous chunk of ice to the bowl and a handful of frozen grapes besides.

“Kids love this stuff, and grapes look like dino eggs!” Jenny said and scooped several helpings of lime sherbet into the bowl.

“Course they do. It’s 100% sugar,” Dakota teased, while Jenny opened a can of pineapple juice. “And you said they resembled eyeballs for Halloween.”

Jenny shrugged and added ginger ale as well, causing the concoction to foam and bubble. “A little sugar never hurt no one.” Careful not to spill, she lifted the bowl. “Grab the spikes! They’re in the fridge!” she called as she headed to the door.

Dakota grabbed the platter, making sure not to jostle it and spill Jen’s hard work all over the forest floor.

“I think we’ve got everything now - plates, cups, napkins, all the food, of course,” Jenny said as she pushed the door open with her elbow. The screen snapped shut behind them as they walked back to the pavilion. “I brought the serving spoons down earl-”

Jenny’s ramble devolved into a shriek of outrage.

“NO! GET AWAY FROM THERE!”

Down by the meticulously prepared picnic table, a juvenile Sinoceratops stood up on its rear legs, chomping away at the plate of wraps.

“Where did you come from?! Oh my gosh, she’s going to eat everything!” Jenny panicked. “Deedee, do something!”

“Like what?!” Dakota was as baffled by the sudden dinosaur as Jenny. Had it broken containment? They were dozens of kilometers from the herbivore valley!

“Shoo! SHOO! This isn’t for you!” Jenny called as she hastened towards the rotund baby, trying not to slosh the punch and failing. She quickly set the bowl on the table and waved her hands at the dinosaur, but it was too captivated by the herb-ivore dip to care about the noisy human. “Deedee, do something! Call Claire or something!!” Jenny repeated as she tried to grab the dinosaur by its bony fringe. Yet it swung its head out of her grasp and went for the cookies.

“Don’t even think about it!”

But it was too late.

The Sinoceratops snatched several cookies before it let out a shrill yip. They must have still been hot the way it was snapping its beak in distress.

Dakota scrambled for her phone while holding the vegetable tray balanced precariously on her other hand. Jenny’s sharp cry of “NO!” was all the warning she got before two heavy feet slammed into her chest and knocked her on her ass. Carrots and cherry tomatoes rolled across the ground as the celery and snap peas went flying. The ravenous herbivore chased after them like a dog with too many tennis balls, snapping them up in its beak as Jenny rushed to Dakota.

“Are you OK?”

Dakota shook her head with a harsh cough as she caught her breath. “That thing hits like a truck already, holy fuck.”

Having finished the wayward vegetables, the dinosaur in question turned to see what else it could scavenge from the table.

Just then, there was a clear whistle from somewhere beyond the campground, and the Sinoceratops froze mid-bite. It paused, considering what to do next while casting a longing look down the table at the toppled pudding cups. At the second, sharper, whistle, it hopped down and scrambled away toward the sound.

“Who the hell has a pet dinosaur?!” Jenny growled, her face bright red as she glared at the culinary war zone around them. Tears brimmed in her eyes as she gazed upon her ruined work. The baby herbivore had helped itself to everything in part or wholly. There was nothing left to salvage. It had even devoured the meat pies!

Dakota frowned, brushing a piece of lettuce from her jeans. “How do you know it’s a pet?”

Jenny scoffed as she grabbed Dakota’s hand and helped her to her feet. “She had a purple bandana around her neck, behind the frill. I saw it when she turned around. She belongs to someone.”

Dakota’s frown deepened. “What sort of people have a pet dinosaur?”

🏝️🏝️🏝️

Earlier that morning, elsewhere on Isla Nublar.

“Look alive, everyone!” Masrani called over his shoulder as they drove into a narrow gorge. He’d stood up in his seat, holding on to the 4x4 Wrangler’s open rig while a broad, confident grin split his face. “In a few minutes we’ll arrive!”

Woken from his nap, Stumpy rolled over in the truck bed onto his other side with a dramatic warble. The baby Sinoceratops couldn’t still be hungry, could it? Crocodile shifted to take the handmade notebook Benji had given him from the inside pocket of his smoking jacket. It read: ‘Stumperton the First: A Field Guide’ in collaged letters on the cover. One large ‘Paleo Salad’ in the morning, it dictated in her uneven cursive, and referred to the page with the recipe, which consisted primarily of tough, fibrous fern leaves, some young shoots and mixed palm seeds. In the afternoon, he could have a smaller ‘Paleo Salad’ and a scoop of angiosperm fruits. With a blue highlighter, she’d added: ‘No apples! He hates apples! He likes mango and avocado’. Crocodile had given Stumpy all that, and a spoonful of peanut butter, too. It wasn’t in the guide, but he knew his daughter gave it to the animal as a treat.

“I don’t want to be there yet,” Shivs mumbled against her husband’s chest, drawing his attention. She’d been dozing pleasantly, daydreaming of slow days in the yacht’s rear deck pool. She didn’t care terribly much about the pterodoctyls? Ptaredactols? The winged lizards that were neither bird nor dinosaur. Crocodile and their daughter Benji had both corrected her on that so often that she actually remembered now. She made a sleepy noise and pressed a kiss against his sun-warmed skin. His chest hair tickled her nose. The pool would have been so nice in this sweltering heat? It had a shallow end, perfect for lounging rather than swimming. She could almost feel the cool water caress her flushed skin…

“Habibti, you’re leaking,” Crocodile murmured in Egyptian Arabic when he felt water seep through his trousers and dress shirt where her body rested against his, their white fabric turning translucent as it became wet and stuck to his skin.

Shivs tipped the old Tilley hat further down over her face and made no effort to fix her Devil Fruit slip. “It’ll dry…”

“This is the best part. You don’t want to miss it!” Masrani said, turning to them.

From the way Shivs pawed Crocodile’s stomach like a drowsy cat getting comfortable, her face remaining hidden beneath the hat, Crocodile didn’t think she was in the least swayed. She snuggled closer, her cheek against his chest and her warm breath brushing his skin as she slid a hand into his dress shirt. He drew circles on her bare shoulder with the tip of his hook, leaning back to blow out smoke away from Ms. Dearing. ‘Really, call me Claire’, she’d said despite clearly being uncomfortable with such familiarity. Masrani had wasted no time getting in the seat beside their driver, leaving her to squeeze in with them. She was sitting on Crocodile’s right side, not quite leaning away from him but certainly making herself as small as possible.

“The approach truly is an experience,” Dearing ventured, though her smile was strained.

Crocodile would have preferred to take the helicopter. However, though ordinarily the helicopter’s number one fan, Masrani had insisted they drive here. In fact, he’d been absolutely adamant that they must, even though it was over an hour’s drive but less than a ten-minute flight. He wondered why. With only dense foliage surrounding them and not a carnivorous dinosaur in sight, Shivs had soon lost interest, dozing against him as the midday heat beat down on them. Ms. Dearing had attempted light conversation, but he’d soon found out she knew precious little about dinosaurs, despite being the park’s chief asset manager. His gaze rested on Shivs’ hat with a sad smile. A far cry from the old game warden.

“Time to wake ya Amar,” Crocodile muttered and gently tipped the brim of the hat up with the curve of his hook.

She didn’t respond, but her silence and closed eye did not fool him. He could tell from her breathing: it would be far slower when she was actually asleep. He trailed the tip of his hook from her shoulder, down her side, and slid it around her upper leg. The way she rubbed her thighs together gave her away.

“I knew you weren’t catching Z’s,” he rumbled, and her grumpy tone made him smile.

“I could have been,” Shivs said as she took the hat from her head to glance up at him, holding it to her chest instead.

Crocodile rested the underside of his jaw on her head, his arms draped around her shoulders as she curled back up against him. A whiff of tangy sweat was wheedling its way through the dwindling scents of her brisk perfume - the one that smelled of dates and crushed palm leaves, reminding him of the oases back home. On second thought, he didn’t want to be there yet either. His gaze drifted to Masrani as they drove through the narrow gorge.

“How far?”

“Any moment now,” Masrani said, flashing him an eager grin.

“He wants to run a lil’ trial on us,” Shivs said, switching to Italian. Crocodile didn’t miss the annoyed undercurrent in her tone. She’d much rather stay like this, having his warm weight against her while hearing and feeling that low, satisfied rumble as he languished in the sun. “This better be worth it.”

When the Wrangler rounded the last corner and the gorge opened up, a cyclopean temple facade with soaring columns loomed sudden and large before them. Carved from the gray bedrock, swathed in greenery and bathed in sunlight, it had all the airs of the entrance to paradise.

A sense of déjà vu came over Shivs as they drove into the clearing, a wry smile curving her lips. She had spotted the cleverly concealed dome behind the facade. “Bit flashy for a birdhouse, don’t you think?”

“Pterosauria are not the ancestors of birds; maniraptora are,” Crocodile said, though he’d recognized the inspiration for this structure, too. Carved into gray bedrock rather than rose-colored sandstone, sure. And shaped by a less skilled hand, judging by the unfinished edges. Still, the resemblance was there, complete with its unique approach: Al-Batra. They’d journeyed there a few years ago for their anniversary. An approach from the air would have ruined it.

The park ranger drove her jeep right up to the imposing facade, near the stream running through the gorge’s gully. Shivs climbed out, then opened the door for Crocodile so he could unfold himself from the backseat. Stumpy let himself out by pulling the truck bed bolt with his beak, jumping to the ground with a notable thump.

“And? Do you like it?” Masrani said as he came around the car, hands clasped together with excitement.

Shivs tilted her head, raising an eyebrow. “Ain’t half bad.”

Masrani beamed proudly as a father with a newborn, despite her placid tone. Not in the least because Crocodile had taken his cigar from his mouth for an agreeing nod as his gaze swept the entryway.

“Better with a timely flock of those winged lizards swooping in as you roll up.” Shivs hooked her arm through Crocodile’s, idly stroking the inside of his biceps. “Do you have any trainable, scaly parakeets that can fly free?”

“Henry is working on Dimorphodon and tells me they are small and likely to be a crowd-pleaser! Might they suffice?” Masrani gave him an expectant glance.

Crocodile’s only response was a low rumbling ‘hum’.

That, and a cloud of smoke.

Shivs drew his attention with a squeeze on his arm. “Would those qualify as scaly parakeets?”

His jaw worked around his cigar, a frown creasing his brow. “Scales, feathers and colors do not readily fossilize, Habibti.”

“You must have a clue, right?” Shivs knew for a fact that he spent hours discussing the latest dinotastic scientific discoveries with Benji and Iggy. And feathery flying reptiles had been on the kids’ brains for the past weeks more consistently than dessert.

“You expect me to guess?” There was mild distaste in his tone.

She leaned into him as they followed Masrani. “An educated one?”

A reluctant rumble. “Bat-winged toucans. About that size, too.”

“That sounds lovely,” Ms. Dearing said with her best attempt at a congenial smile.

“Right until one swoops in and takes a finger,” Crocodile said between puffs of smoke, quite unperturbed by their alarmed expressions.

Only Shivs appeared intrigued by the prospect. “They were swoop hunters?”

“Probably.”

She had always been interested in animals their hunting strategies. He assumed it was because she’d grown up with rangers in Kenya. “They have a couple dozen small, sharp teeth in their beaks, and some big ones up front - hence, their name: ‘di-’ meaning two, ‘morpho’ meaning form, and ‘-dont’ meaning teeth.”

“That is no good, no good at all.” Masrani’s entire posture slumped as he herded them towards what appeared to be a cage elevator. He pressed the button, which lit up. “Are there any that won’t mutilate our guests?”

Crocodile gave him an odd look, as if he were asking why water must be wet.

“Pterodactyl? Anurognathus,” he said after a pause. He blew out smoke as he basked in the fascinated glance Shivs gave him while she caressed his arm. He enjoyed telling her about recent discoveries. “Little guy, half a meter wingtip to wingtip. Likely covered in brown and black proto feathers with a deep beak that might pop with color, like puffins.”

Masrani straightened his suit jacket, his gaze flitting between them. “What about their teeth?”

Crocodile smiled around his cigar at the way Shivs’ eye lit up. Unfortunately, this one would disappoint. “Blunt, and not very many.” He rubbed her shoulder when her face fell and the elevator arrived. “Most likely insectivorous.”

“That sounds perfect! Claire, jot that down for Henry!”

Claire produced her phone, but on jotting down ‘bterodactul -> ahnyouroknatoes’ she became instantly self-conscious about the difficulty she had with parsing his heavy accent when she didn’t have prior knowledge of which species he meant. “How do you?” she started, question marks in her eyes as she turned to Crocodile.

“Perhaps we could supply guests on their way here with dried locusts?” Masrani bobbed up on the balls of his feet with renewed excitement. “People love feeding animals!”

“Ahn-your-ok-na-toes,” Crocodile repeated, but slower this time. “No, not like that,” he said after a glance at her screen, clearly irked. He took her phone, ignoring her flinch, and typed it in correctly before handing it back to her.

Shivs pursed her lips, her arms crossed. “Listen, we should keep Dimorphodon, too.”

“Absolutely!” Masrani said with a quick glance at Crocodile. “Henry is already working on them, after all.”

Crocodile caught and held his gaze. He’d not known about the aviary, or any of the specimens that would be housed here. He didn’t enjoy being kept in the dark. “Don’t keep us in suspense.”

Masrani put his hands together as if in prayer. “The moment I hear from Henry that we have hatchlings is the moment you will know too.”

Crocodile put his arm around Shivs’ waist, drawing her to his side. He leaned down to press a fleeting kiss against her frown. “Saeida?”

Her self-satisfied smile made him want to kiss her more. “Dima, Haboob.”

Masrani pulled the elevator cage door open and motioned the women inside with a courteous gesture. Shivs followed Ms. Dearing, herding Stumpy along. She couldn’t quite stand upright, and as Masrani entered behind her, it became clear that the elevator could accommodate at best 3 to 4 people of decidedly average height. It was not made for a rotund juvenile Sinoceratops, and certainly not for someone as tall and broad as Crocodile.

“I’ll take the stairs.” Crocodile waved Shivs back in when she turned to step out, Stumpy at her heels. “I’ll see you up top, Habibti.”

Shivs frowned but stepped back into the cage, dragging the baby Sinoceratops along by his bandana. Stumpy yipped, gaze bouncing between them, and Ms. Dearing had to flatten herself against the cage to avoid being smacked by his neck crest swinging by.

Masrani cleared his throat as he adjusted his tie. “We ought to make these more accommodating before we open the aviary to the public. Write that down as well, Claire.”

🏝️🏝️🏝️

The ride up was slow, and none too interesting. They left the dense ferns of the forest floor behind and rose higher and higher among the auracaria conifers. Shivs felt a sudden gust of wind whirl around her. Its abrasive touch was familiar - sand. She smiled as her gaze followed it up to the treetops, drawing nearer above them. Although Dr. Wu and his team had imported the monkey puzzle tree from central Chile, they had also brought back many other trees of that genus, just as they had the dinosaurs.

You’d think there’d be birds up here, or a squirrel running through the spiny branches. However, it was quiet among the bristling treetops.

Eerily so.

Fascinated, Shivs wondered why.

They arrived amid steel beams and rolls of netting. “The viewing terrace is still under construction,” Masrani said as he hauled the elevator cage door open and let the women out.

Were there flying carnivores?

Benji would know.

She followed Masrani and Ms. Dearing as he guided them through the piles of construction material, holding Stumpy by his bandana for support. The metal grating was a pain to navigate with her prosthetic. “Will it be long?”

“By the end of the year,” Masrani said with confidence he barely felt. He pointedly ignored Claire’s glance. The thing was, the aviary had meant to be finished for the public by the start of the year. However, sequencing and incubation costs had run a smidge higher than budgeted. He had mandated an official delay in the aviary’s construction, halting work for half a year. Indefinitely, if they didn’t find supplementary funds. The thought alone depressed and infuriated him in equal measure. Their visitors deserved to see the wonders of the prehistoric skies!

Shivs was glad when they came out onto a fenced patio, for it had a smooth bedrock floor. It gave the impression that they were on top of the grand facade, just above the forest canopy. High overhead shimmered the hexagons of the aviary dome. It took her a moment to spot her husband. In his white slacks and mottled green and gold smoking jacket, Crocodile all but disappeared against the blindingly bright afternoon sun skimming the treetops. She scrunched her nose. He’d buttoned up his dress shirt and retied his orange cravat.

She made her way to where he stood, with Stumpy at her heels. Standing on the balls of her feet, she gave him a kiss between two puffs of cigar smoke.

“Definitely,” she said when he nudged his chin towards her with a ‘hrm?’

Crocodile reached into his jacket and pulled out a slim metal case. It opened with a click, folding in on itself to reveal half a dozen neatly arranged cigarillos. Her fingertip ran along its edge as she read their labels and decided which flavor she wanted. A tricky pick, for it had all her favorites. She picked a Goji-berry cigarillo and accepted a light from Masrani as Crocodile tucked the case away. As she did so, she noticed a tall metal structure some 50 metres away from the viewing platform. It appeared a massive support pillar… with nothing to support? She contemplated what it was, or would be, as she took in the decidedly empty skies.

“What did you say you have here?” She said as she rubbed Stumpy’s nose horn. Sitting on his fat little butt beside them, the juvenile ceratopsid reminded Masrani greatly of a scaly dog waiting for a treat for good behavior.

“Only Pteranodon, for now.” Masrani said, stressing ‘for now’. It would take, at a conservative estimate, another 125 million if they wanted the aviary ready for visitors. Realistically, probably more like 175 million. He needed their investors to invest more. All of them, truth be told, but he was a man of efficiency. And he liked to think, well-considered risk-taking.

The Crocodile wasn’t the easiest money tree for him to shake - though certainly the tallest; Masrani thought with a private chuckle - but if he managed; Crocodile was the one most likely to have no qualms writing a 6 or 7 zero check. He just didn’t blank invest, like the others. He signed off only for specific ventures and was in the unerring habit of following up with the financial department.

Was Dimorphodon the only other addition planned? Shivs glanced at Crocodile and wondered if Masrani had told him about this undertaking. Normally, their daughter was the designated Dinopedia, but she knew he enjoyed explicating his knowledge of them, too. “Pteranodon?”

“Extremely common specimen,” Crocodile said when he caught her glance. “To date, paleontologists have discovered hundreds of fossils.”

The CEO’s affronted expression at having his attraction described as ‘common’ tickled a subtle grin unto Shivs’ face. “People won’t be surprised by it then?”

Masrani adjusted the wristband of his Titan. If they wanted the aviary ready, they really needed those millions of his, and they needed them yesterday. Preferably 175 of them, though he wouldn’t object too strongly to more. There were always additional assets to put it to, to keep the roster of flyers fresh and exciting. He just had to convince the worldly billionaire of the aviary’s unique potential, entice him with its future splendor and the luminous position of being its primary ambassador.

Easier said than done, for the Crocodile seemed not a man given to flourishes and fancy.

“It is still an unusual enough sight,” Crocodile said, disarming his wife’s attempt to get a rise out of the CEO. She was bored. He didn’t blame her. This treetop scrap heap wasn’t even in the vicinity of the sort of entertainment that the nursing paddocks had been. “Piscivorous, perhaps opportunistic scavengers. Their skulls and spines are tough and sturdy, just like modern diving birds.”

“How big are they?”

Crocodile liked the way her gaze scanned the treetops, leaning on the balustrade and straightening beside him as if the few extra centimeters might help spot them. “Pteranodon is a medium-sized pterosaur, their wingspan about twice the size of an adult condor.”

A frown ruined her smile before he’d finished enjoying it. “Where are they? Do they roost during the day?”

Irked at its premature loss, Crocodile blew out smoke through his nose. “No reason to think they were nocturnal.”

“Are,” Masrani boldly corrected him with a broad grin, drawing her attention and his frown. “One moment.” He produced his phone, dialing a number, evidently on speed dial. “Stuart? Yes, it’s me. Yes, we are. Now would be an excellent time. Absolutely, go for it!”

Moments later, the metal structure Shivs had spotted earlier moved. No, it didn’t quite move as much as it… opened up? A hatch slid wide on the platform, and up through its darkness came a flatbed lift with something on it.

Something chunky and red with silvery patches that winked in the sun.

“One more moment,” Masrani said with the same knowing look he’d had when they were driving through the gorge.

It took the wind a second to blow its ripe stench in their direction, and then there was no question about what it was.

At the sudden, ear-rending screech, Shivs all but jumped into Crocodile’s arms. Her pulse raced as time and space dilated around her.

Her heart pounded in her throat.

‘It’s all right.’

Moonlight filtered through the rain-drenched trees.

‘Run. Towards the shed.’

Leaves rustled in the darkness.

‘NOW.’

She ran down the path, boots splashing in the mud as she jumped over the slippery log. Falling and scrambling back up.

Shivs struggled to regain control of her thoughts, blocking out the gunshots and screeches, clinging to her husband like a buoy in a stormy sea. All around them, Pteranodon had risen from the treetops to dive towards the feeding platform. The cacophony was unbelievable as they swooped and tumbled past in their hurry to arrive first. 

“Not a raptor,” Crocodile rumbled in Egyptian Arabic. He braced his arms around her, his palm resting against the back of her head. His soft, deep rumbles slowly soothed the tension from her desperate hold on him. When Stumpy bellowed in alarm, Crocodile caught him by a hole in his frill with his hook and pulled him against his legs. Cowering, the poor creature leaned as close to them as its baby armor allowed. 

Masrani turned to them amid the storm of leather wings. “Exciting, aren’t they!”

“You ought to have given us a heads up,” Crocodile admonished as he held both his wife and their pet dinosaur. He let his comment rest, and Masrani’s shoulders sag, for a good minute or two.

Though it hadn’t taken Shivs more than a few moments to recover from her fright, she was happy to stay in his embrace. She watched a Pteranodon soar over their heads as she leaned into him. A late-comer to the unexpected buffet. “Shouldn’t they have feathers?” She remarked when the pterosaur had passed and Stumpy calmed. Crocodile set her back down, but kept his arm around his wife’s shoulders to help her balance as she adjusted her prosthetic shin.

“Yes, regrettably.” Masrani clasped his hands behind his back and squinted at the platform. “Henry has trouble with the feathered ones - none of them have come out with feathers.” At Crocodile’s frown, he added: “He’s not been able to explain to me why, but I am certain he will figure it out. He always does.”

“Didn’t Benji do a school project about this?” Shivs put her arm around her husband’s waist, only just able to brush her fingertips across his hip, right above his belt. Their daughter had practiced her little science class speech in front of them to the point it’d been engraved in their memory, too. “Pycno-fibers, right? Small and tufty? Like a baby duck’s down?” 

“She did, and she was correct.” Crocodile kneaded her shoulder. “They found fossil impressions, if not of Pteranodon specifically. However, it is likely the proto-feathers are ancestral rather than an independent evolution.”

“Didn’t flight evolve three times?” Ms. Dearing asked. Not that she meant to disagree, but convergent evolution was certainly a thing.

“Indeed, it evolved, as far as we know, independently in pterosaurs, birds, and bats. I pointed out the same thing to Ian,” Crocodile said. “He proposed to simplify the adaptation to a binary: one gene ‘on’ are feathers, the same gene ‘off’ is none. A gross oversimplification but useful for the purpose of illustrating diminishing odds.”

Ms. Dearing tilted her head with a mild smile, something Shivs had noticed her doing when Masrani was about to launch into a monologue as well, and wondered if she was only feigning interest.

“If it is an equal, binary chance, and happens three times, the odds of it happening the first time are raised to the power of the total number of times the event is repeated. With flight that is (½)^3, or 1 in 8,” Crocodile elaborated, gesturing with his cigar. “Right now, we know of five feathered, unrelated species of pterosaur and dinosaur. That’s (½)^5 or 1 in 32. A four times smaller chance despite adding only two extra events. And of course, these things aren’t actually a binary situation but dependent on a multitude of genes, further reducing the odds.”

Ms. Dearing gave a curt nod. “So, it’s improbable, and therefore more likely to be of common origin?”

“That’s what the mathematician said.” A puff of smoke underlined Crocodile’s reply, leaving it unclear if he agreed.

“I don’t find these very impressive,” Shivs remarked, turning their attention back to the Pteranodon. Claire thought that was pretty uncharitable considering how much they had spooked her.

“We will have others,” Masrani assured her as he considered how he might wheedle out of them which species had their specific interest, especially hers. The Crocodile was prone to funding endeavors she took a shine to.

Shivs glanced at Crocodile. “Bigger ones, Habibi?”

Personally, Claire thought these were plenty big enough.

“No one has shown me any plans for this aviary or its proposed assets,” Crocodile said as he scowled down at Masrani from his great height.

“Is there a particular one you’d enjoy seeing?” Masrani asked, though Shivs didn’t fail to notice the way he had shifted under her husband’s gaze. Something was up.

“One of the Azhdarchids,” Crocodile said after a moment of thought in which his gaze rested on his wife. He tapped the ash from his cigar. “They contain the largest known specimens.”

Claire took out her phone and opened the notes app even before her boss told her to.

“Such as?” Masrani asked as he leaned forward, his gaze moving between them. He was ready and willing to hound Henry over whatever names came out of Crocodile’s mouth in the coming minutes. He was certain he could leverage the promise of these creatures to secure their much-needed funds for the aviary. Big animals were expensive to make and keep, after all!

Crocodile squinted at the Pteranodons in the distance. He wondered if they might hunt one another, the way the large theropods did the smaller ones. It had been an issue in some of the original enclosure plans. Dr. Wu’s theory that the different size classes of carnivores would leave each other alone the way, say, lions and hyenas do, had been decidedly wrong.

That didn’t happen often.

He looked at his wife, drawing her attention with a gentle squeeze on her shoulder. He loved the way her eye lit up with excitement when he pronounced the name of the uncrowned queen of the Late Cretaceous skies.

“Quatzalcoatlus.”

“Is it large?” Claire said with mild apprehension.

Crocodile blew out smoke as he glanced at her. “Imagine a giraffe with a beak nearly as long as its neck, and a bony crest to counterbalance it.”

Ms. Dearing gave them all a look as if she might veto resurrecting this one.

Shivs turned to watch the Pteranodon again. “Something that large could take flight…? How big did they get?”

A mild smile flitted across Crocodile’s face at his wife’s question, but Claire had caught her eager undertone. This was a woman who enjoyed thrills. However, the thrills of a park with living, breathing dinosaurs could be something else entirely. Though it had been diligently hushed up, Claire had seen some details pertaining to the ‘93 incident. Indeed, it was why she was on top of security at all times and trying her best to reign in some of her boss his wilder ideas. And she had the uncomfortable feeling that this was going to be one of them.

“Current methods to estimate size from fragmentary remains are notoriously unreliable,” Crocodile said, his arm around his wife’s waist once more. “We don’t yet possess a complete specimen.”

Shivs tilted her head.

Crocodile blew out smoke, holding her gaze for a moment. “Conservative estimates put its wingspan at about ten metres.”

“The plane I took my flying lessons in had that wingspan!” Masrani beamed as if it was a good thing, rather than extremely alarming. “Lucky for us it hunted in the sky, huh?”

Claire didn’t like the way Crocodile pursed his lips.

“Birds have elongated arm bones and highly adapted wrist bones, no longer possessing proper fingers,” he said as he tapped ash from his cigar. “Pterosaur wings are different. They were lengthened by a single, elongated fourth digit, doubling their reach.”

“What he means,” Shivs said as she pinched his hip, making him grumble. “Is that they could probably walk quite well on their knuckles by folding the wing finger back when on the ground.”

“Perhaps even gallop,” Crocodile rumbled.

They exchanged humorous looks that Claire did not understand. She didn’t find the notion of being chased down by a meat-eating giraffe particularly amusing.

A sly grin revealed an edge of teeth as Shivs glanced at Crocodile from the corner of her eye. “Could it chase you down?”

“Most animals can chase a human down,” Crocodile said with a mild shake of his head.

Shivs switched to Egyptian Arabic, her tone teasing. “But not you, personally?”

“Not me, personally,” Crocodile agreed, switching languages as well while giving her waist a squeeze. “Nor you, unless you are distracted.”

“By you, maybe,” Shivs chortled and stood up on her toes to press a kiss against the corner of his mouth, right beside his cigar. She frowned then, having remembered something, and switched back to English. “What about that Hats-go-on-something-pteryx? What got the kids excited the other day?”

“It is but a fragment of a skull and humerus,” Crocodile said, pursing his lips once more. “Barely diagnostic.”

“They said it was bigger even than Quatzalcoatlus?”

“What was?” Masrani asked, keen for another name.

“Hatzegopteryx,” Crocodile said, and Claire had no idea how to write that. Perhaps she should just record him. Surely, Dr. Wu would understand which one he meant, accent or no.

“How many would we need to have?” Ms. Dearing asked carefully. She didn’t look forward to plane-sized flying reptiles at all.

Crocodile moved his cigar to the other side of his mouth. “The large Azhdarchids are probably solitary. Flocking only once a year, or even once every few years, to breed.”

“Local ecosystems can rarely support more than a handful of apex predators, and the skies are no exception,” Shivs added as she finished her cigarillo. “They are the T-Rex of the skies.”

“That is an excellent marketing line,” Masrani said as Claire jotted it down. “Though successfully synthesizing and incubating such creatures would put a dent in our current budgeting plans…”

Masrani glanced at Crocodile, but he didn’t bite.

“You said Dr. Wu hasn’t been able to incubate feathered ones?” Crocodile took the cigar from his mouth. “Is that why you are not opening the aviary until next year?”

“Well, yes,” Masrani hastily agreed. It wasn’t the whole truth, but it was certainly part of it. They had underestimated how costly Henry’s repeated attempts would turn out to be. But what use was an aviary if it showed more of the same as on the ground? They needed prehistoric Amazonian wonders! And for that, they needed feathers and colors. “I am confident he will figure it out soon.”

“They will be most impressive if they have their theorized feathers,” Crocodile said, taking a moment to draw on his cigar, moving the smoke around in his mouth. “It is likely that their plumage, though more akin to rough hair or down than modern feathers, would have had the same range of brilliant coloration and display as modern birds do.”

“That sounds wonderful,” Ms. Dearing said. However, her pinched expression suggested otherwise.

“They’re both Cretaceous species, aren’t they?” Shivs asked, and Crocodile didn’t miss the cheeky glint in her eye as she stole a glance at him.

“Late Cretaceous,” he agreed, his tone reserved. He had a guess where she was going with this.

“It is the best epoch,” she declared with a satisfied grin as she gave his hip a little smack. “I love the big ones.”

“Are you calling me a dinosaur, Habibti?” Crocodile rumbled.

“As if you and Benji wouldn’t want to be one.”

Shivs leaned in to kiss him, a kiss he returned as his hand moved from her hip to her butt.

“Right.” Ms. Dearing clapped her hands together, not unlike a schoolteacher attempting to gain the class’ attention. “We’ve arranged lunch-.”

Behind them, Masrani caught her gaze as he made a cutting gesture.

“-which will be ready. Soon,” she continued without missing a beat. Masrani motioned for her to come with him, and she swept her arm to show their surroundings. “Please relax and enjoy the aviary. I’ll come find you when the preparations have finished.”

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Shivs leaned on the balustrade as she watched the Pteranodon in the wake of their feeding. They hadn’t flown in these skies for tens of millions of years, but now they soared again.

Crocodile came up behind her, drawing her into his chest. “Appreciating the scenery?”

Shivs leaned against him, enjoying his closing embrace as he wrapped his thick arms around her waist and rested his chin on her head. “Better with a full moon and you, Hayati.”

“I can arrange that,” he said, though the sun was only just past its zenith and would not hurry even for him. “They might roost, though, come evening.”

She laid her hand across his as it took in the shape of her thigh. “Nothing left to see.”

Crocodile leaned down to kiss the sensitive skin right at the crease of her jaw and ear. “I’ll have you to look at...”

“Like what you see?”

He ran his hand up from her thigh to her waist, fingertips grazing across the gilded alligator leather of her belt until they found the delicate buckles. Stefano Masotti had designed the stylish ensemble for her. And, as ever, the famous couturier had outdone himself.

“Always.”

Shivs caressed his cheek, fingers tracing his jaw and drawing him into a kiss as he undid the small buckles just enough to loosen its fit. “It’s pretty, isn’t it?” she murmured against his lips.

“It is.”

Crocodile slipped his hand under the olive cotton and against the soft skin of her stomach, warm and clammy from the subtropical weather. He loved the way her breath hitched, how her lips parted when he lightly grinded against her firm butt.

“I like it even more now,” he said when his touch dipped lower but didn’t run into the lacy edge of underwear.

“I thought you might.”

Her breathy, self-satisfied tone ran a jab of need from his crotch straight up his spine. 

“Wet already?” he rumbled against her ear as he dragged two thick fingers through her slit, gathering the moist there before rubbing them together.

She traced a fingertip along the curve of his hook resting against her hip, chasing the glint of the sunlight. “For a while…”

Nose pressed against her red hair, he inhaled the scents of home as he ran his middle finger around her entrance, smirking at its greedy twitch. “How come your pretty outfit isn’t damp from your wet pussy rubbing against it, then?”

“Maybe you haven’t paid attention?”

She felt the tip of his hook press into her stomach and savored the way his gaze turned hungry.

“I paid attention,” Crocodile said as he drew lazy circles around her clit, listening to her soft pants. She was always so good to him, so quick to respond. “I paid attention when you leaned over the island’s maquette. When you walked up the paddock gallery stairs. When you bend over so invitingly to snatch that pen from the floor...”

Shivs pressed her butt into his groin, drawing a low groan from him that made her yearn for his cock. “Is that why you are so hard already, Habibi?”

“I meant to fuck you every single time.” He savored the way she squirmed in his hold when he nudged her clit, rubbed along her slick entrance and teased a finger only just into her wet cunt. “Yet your lovely outfit was neat every time I looked? Not at all marking the spot to my finest treasure.”

“Maybe I had help?” she said with a flick of her gaze at Ms. Dearing, who stood talking to her boss on the far side of the unfinished deck. He caressed her midriff with the curve of his hook as she spoke, the tip trailing her bare skin. Not that such a threat had ever stopped her mid-taunt before. “While you were distracted by dinosaurs…”

“Is that why you women go to the bathroom in groups?” he rumbled as he drew her closer by touching the tip against her belly button.

“Only sometimes.”

The way she arched against him in response, rubbing her firm butt along his hard cock, made him want to bend her over right there.

He didn’t.

But only just.

“And other times?” he wondered as he caressed her clit with his thumb, drawing a soft moan from her.

“We compare notes…”

Shivs reached up, stroking his jaw as she caught his hungry gaze. Tilted her hips, trying to catch his fingers as he teased them across her slit.

He loved the way her expression broke when he abruptly pushed two of them all the way up her cunt. Savored how she whined and clung to him as he forced her up onto her toes. “My little whore wife,” he growled against her neck as he parted his fingers, spreading her slick pussy open while it tried to clench around them. “Always trying to tempt others with my treasure.”

She moaned as her legs went weak from the pleasure rushing across every nerve she had when he did it just right. Her fingers dug into the fabric of his sleeves. “N-need you.”

Crocodile smothered her pitched whine with a kiss. “Quiet, Azizti,” he rumbled as he forced a third finger into her eager cunt, drawing a mewl from between their lips that rivaled the sweetest music to his ears. “They’ll hear.”

“Don’t care, Habibi.”

He leaned forward, shifting his weight and trapping his hand between the balustrade and her squirming hips. He groaned as he shoved her up against it and grinded his hard cock into her firm ass. “I should bend you over this damn fence and pound your needy hole till you can no longer stand.”

Shivs whined as her entire weight came to rest on his hand, his fingers digging into her cunt up to his knuckles, pressing the hard edges of his rings against her sensitive skin. Need raced up and down her spine in its rush to tell every single inch of her body what it wanted next.

“Right height. Comfortable angle. Could keep going a good while,” he rumbled into the crook of her neck as he dry humped against her butt, fucking her into his palm. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“Y-yes.” She needed more than his thick fingers up her cunt. It felt good, so very good, but what she really wanted was his large cock buried completely inside her. Sure, they’d fucked this morning, but that was hours ago. Hours!

He trailed kisses along her neck as he pumped his fingers into her clenching cunt, felt her walls tighten around them every time he tapped his middle finger against that sweet spot within her. “Shhh, they’ll hear,” he soothed as he smothered her moans with kisses.

“I d-don’t give a s-shit. I n-need your cock, W-Wani,” Shivs sobbed, fingers digging into his forearm.

“What was that, Habibti?”

Reaching as deep as her tight pussy would let him, Crocodile pressed his fingers against that spot at the back of her cunt, massaging it firmly. Immediately, the strength with which her walls cramped around them increased. He could never get enough of the way those needy muscles trembled with effort as he pried them apart. Needed to feel them do so around his cock again.

“Cum for me, Azizti,” he groaned and watched her gaze roll up as her orgasm travelled through her lean frame. He held her close as she came down from her peak, admiring her blissful expression. The satisfied rumble he uttered send after sparks through her body.

“I am going to fuck you so well that you’ll want me to carry you for that hike to camp,” he said as he gave her soaked cunt a squeeze that made her squirm against him. She was so quick to want for seconds. It was one of the many things he loved about her.

Her hand brushed his pants, making his cock twitch against her palm.

“Promise?”

He pressed a kiss to her parted lips.

“They’ll hear you scream down on the ground.”

Her gaze flicked beside him, and her annoyed huff told him all he needed to know. Stepping back, he drew her down from the balustrade, and she swiftly fixed her outfit in the relative seclusion of his considerable bulk. He glanced over his shoulder, and Ms. Dearing picked up her pace when their gazes crossed, having dawdled until then.

It would seem lunch was ready, after all.

Crocodile drew his pocket square from his jacket with an irritated rumble and wiped his hand on it. So much for fucking just now.

“You think you can walk with that?” Shivs asked as she gave his crotch a stealthy squeeze that made him groan before she innocuously took his arm.

“They better pretend it isn’t there,” he grumbled, though despite his fighting words, he kept her in front of him as they walked to the table Ms. Dearing led them to. He pulled out Shivs’ seat for her, then quickly sat down himself.

🏝️🏝️🏝️

They settled in the aviary’s least undeveloped corner, with a grand view of the surrounding treetops. In the distance, the top of the volcano crested the expanse of leafy greenery. Catering staff had turned one of the family tables into a certified buffet. Despite the last-minute change of location, Masrani thought they’d handled it superbly. He knew Crocodile and his wife were particular about their food. Therefore, he had made the lunch catering double check with the VIP resort staff to verify they still requested their usual cuisine to be brought up to their yacht: a mix of Costa Rican dishes, including casado, ceviche, and chifrijo with nachos, but with a distinct flair to their preferences and dietary requirements. Soft-boiled eggs for her, no pork for him, that kind of thing.

Crocodile shifted in his seat, attempting to find a comfortable position while discreetly adjusting his lingering erection.

“You mentioned there was something alive in there?” Shivs’ tone was light, conversational, but she’d switched to Italian untouched by endearments. It was what he privately thought of as her business accent: she always bit her words when she was about to voice a firm opinion.

“Heavy, too,” he said and gave up trying to get comfortable. Judging from her shift in demeanor, it wouldn’t be a lingering problem for long.

She took his hand, reclining against his side as they were served, drawing an idle pattern across the back of his hand with her fingertip, as if quite bored. “Reptile?” There was no boredom in her pointed glance as she avoided a particular loanword.

He caught her fingers and rubbed his thumb across her knuckles. “Aywa.”

Claire smiled politely, as if casually listening to a conversation she could actually understand, while her boss consulted his phone with the air of someone who withdrew from one of their own volition. Her Italian was rusty, at best, and she hadn’t actively used it since her International Tourism education.

“He’s been playing us for fools, huh?” Shivs gave a subtle flick with her chin at Masrani.

Crocodile folded his fingers around hers. “Perhaps it’s not fully grown, and he plans to impress us with it later, as he did with the Mosasaurus.”

“You say that like you enjoyed that surprise money-sink.”

It was no use back-pedaling. They both knew he’d loathed Masrani’s secrecy about the Cretaceous marine reptile, if not the animal itself.

“Something bothers you,” she said as she watched him glare at his casado. He was frustrated, but not with her. Not yet, anyway. “Aside from his little hustle.”

“It didn’t show itself.”

Her slender fingers slipped from his grasp to run down the back of his hand towards his wrist, mischief sparkling in her good eye as the corner of her lips twitched. “Maybe it knows not to mess with the big boys?”

“La,” he rumbled and closed his hand around her wrist, ready to drag it up should she try to reach under the table.

She sat back, irked. “Whatever it is, it is an animal. A large, previously extinct animal, but an animal. Nothing we can’t handle.”

Crocodile scowled as he let go. It had been a heavy creature, as heavy as a particularly large elephant. It’d been nearby. In front of them, just beyond the clearing. All his senses and powers had told him it was right there.

All of them, except his eyes.

Crocodile cut the chicken in his casado into neat pieces. “I cannot handle what I cannot see…”

Shiv raised an eyebrow at his cryptic comment and wondered if he was reciting verse. “Listen, we need to keep eyes on Simon.” Again the chin-flick. “I don’t like his having private little secrets.”

He paused mid cut, then continued. “Neither do I.”

The aviary visit wasn’t just to treat them, or impress them, even though both were part of it. No, Crocodile was fairly certain the main purpose was jockeying for money. The egregiously cheerful CEO was more shrewd than he let on. Crocodile had seen the scope and state of the aviary as he’d come up ahead of them. It was in a sorry condition and possessed only one common species. Which was featherless, at that. If he had to guess - and he was a gambling man - he’d put his chips on Simon having misjudged how expensive that landscaping and Dr. Wu’s repeated attempts at feathers were going to turn out to be.

“Let me have a little chat with him,” Shivs said as she pointed her salad fork at him. “Remind him we don’t appreciate dishonesty from our friends.”

Crocodile took a moment to finish chewing his food before rebuking. “That won’t be necessary.”

“Yes, it is,” she said as she stabbed a cherry tomato. “If you do nothing-”

He raised his voice despite himself and put down his fork. “I am not doing nothing.”

“What, then?” She raised the skewered tomato at him before popping it into her mouth.

“I’ll contact Miranda in the financial department and go over their recent statements.”

Shivs leaned back in her seat, irritation plain in her tone. “If that slimeball isn’t a complete waste of oxygen, those books will be as clean as our own.” She tangled her fingers into his, her grip firm, confident. “Let me chat with him.”

“La’a.” Crocodile made a cutting gesture with his hook.

He’d worked hard to keep their ties covered all these years. If she brought that baseball bat into the conversation now, they might as well call the newspapers about it and save them the trouble.

Her grip tightened. “I will have a chat with him.”

“You will do no such-,” he started.

“Uff.” Shivs snatched her hand from his grasp with a frustrated glare. 

The way his lips curled spoke volumes about his displeasure at the interjection. “I forbid you-.”

“You. Forbid me?” Fire ignited in her good eye. “Sterf alleen,” she spat and pointedly turned her back to him.

Though Masrani hadn’t understood a word of their conversation beyond them speaking at least three languages interchangeably, he understood perfectly what was happening - a disaster, that was what! He wanted them to be comfortable, to enjoy themselves, to not have a single care in the world! ‘Happy investors invest more,’ his father always said, and how right he was. 

“A real treat to be here all by ourselves,” Masrani said, but neither Crocodile nor his wife took the conversation bait. Crocodile had lit another cigar and sat staring daggers through his smoke rings while his wife focussed her attention on Claire, who was getting harassed by the juvenile Sinoceratops.

“Just ignore him,” Shivs told her when Stumpy nudged his baby nose horn against her elbow for the second time. He gave her Caesar salad a longing look.

“The children feed him table scraps,” Crocodile said by way of an explanation but did nothing to correct the animal’s behavior.

Masrani desperately contemplated how to solve the situation at hand. It was such a shame their friend - her friend? His sister? The internet hadn’t been able to give him a straight answer - hadn’t tagged along in that uninvited way she did. A real shame. Caimen was her name, Caimen Beckmann. She was excitable and much easier to please. 

“Maybe it is still hungry?” Claire ventured. The poor thing seemed ravenous.

“I gave it what my daughter wrote it should get.” Crocodile seemed certain of his case. However, Claire found it difficult to ignore the colorful animal’s large, round eyes.

Masrani over-chewed his food as he thought. Novelty alone did not sway the Crocodile. Like old man Hammond, Crocodile considered himself the world’s dinosaur steward, the shepherd of their well-being. Nothing wrong with that, of course! Animals had rights, and all that. But it had made his onboarding with and continued support of Jurassic World… complex. Critical to their legitimacy, but complex. But Caimen? Caimen just wanted to be wowed while eating a snack. She was the quintessential visitor. Their target audience personified.

“Stumpy.” Shivs patted her thigh, and the dinosaur turned its frilled head to look at her. “Leave her alone, little man.” She scooped some beans from her plate and tossed them onto the deck. Stumpy promptly galloped around the table to get to them. The wooden boards shook under its short legs despite being a juvenile.

“That’ll give it gas, Habibti,” Crocodile chided.

“Not a handful, it won’t.” Shivs patted Stumpy’s thick neck, rubbing the hard to reach crease behind his frill and ignoring her husband’s attempt to catch her with his disapproving frown. “You like beans, don’t you, Stumperton?”

Masrani knew Crocodile humored Carmen in the way big brothers did. He’d know; he had a little sister himself. Caimen would love the aviary, he was sure of it. If only she were here already.

“We are in the open air. His little dino farts will dissipate in the wind,” Masrani said, but Crocodile’s scoff made him wonder how little they’d truly be. “You’re the very first visitors to see this part of the park,” he soldiered on, smile unwavering.

Crocodile pursed his lips but didn’t reply, and his wife started a conversation with Claire about her stylist instead.

“I don’t know what we’d do without Stefano,” Shivs said as she handed Claire the designer’s card. “He understands our taste so well.”

“Your taste,” Crocodile interjected as he tapped ash from his cigar.

“That jacket you’re wearing was designed by him and you love it.” Shivs leaned towards him and switched to Egyptian Arabic. “Why so grumpy, Habibi? Jealous I didn’t feed you a snack?” She ran her hand up his thigh, but he caught her wrist long before it reached his hip.

“Don’t,” was all he said with a huff of smoke.

A wrinkle creased her brow, and she turned back to Claire, now most definitely with her back turned squarely to him.

This was terrible, and in the next minute it got infinitely worse still. Masrani was trying to come up with a way to salvage the situation when the darn aviary itself swooped in to ruin it further.

A Pteranodon dove towards them with a last-minute screech that saw Claire all but jump off her seat and Shivs scramble backwards onto her husband’s lap. The creature dove between the women, claws leading like a bird of prey towards the puttering herbivore. Stumpy let out an angry bellow and swung his horn and crest in defense of his beans.

It was only a split second before Shivs vaulted from her perch to shove at the pterosaur pecking at their child’s pet. Masrani fumbled for his telephone to call the rangers. If it maimed her, they could all kiss this aviary goodbye and probably their careers as well.

The Pteranodon screeched and snapped at her face, snatching her hat.

“Habibi!”

The way her voice pitched as she frantically grabbed for the hat sent sudden chills down Masrani’s spine.

Crocodile’s reaction was instantaneous. He vaulted from his seat with a speed that shouldn’t be possible, and for a moment Masrani thought… but no, that was ridiculous. He laughed at himself. People didn’t turn into gusts of sand! Crocodile had simply been fast, had risen to his great height and snatched it back before the creature could truly take off. Jumped, perhaps! The untimely breeze had no doubt caused him to blink, and that’s why he’d thought, but no, of course, that hadn’t actually happened. A trick of the light and wind!

The pteranodon screeched in anger, snapping its great beak at Crocodile when he took the hat from it. He swiped at it with the back of his hook, shoving the animal with the dull curve. It jabbed and snapped and snatched his cigar as it took off.

Half a breath later, Crocodile had gathered his wife against him, her hat clutched in her hands between them as he rubbed her back.

“I’ve got you, Habibti,” Crocodile muttered in Egyptian Arabic. “I’ll move the mountains to keep you safe.”

Claire wondered what significance the battered Tilley hat held to her, or perhaps them, as she watched Crocodile kiss her forehead and soothe her. These hats were not cheap, but it didn’t look like it were a recent purchase. It was old and well-worn. Perhaps it had belonged to someone important? A sibling? A parent?

Recovering from the jump scare, irritation crept back onto Shivs’ face like a predator onto prey. She moved away, but Crocodile gathered her against him again, wrapping his arms firmly around her stiff shoulders.

“You know I appreciate all you do,” he rumbled against her red hair as he held her close. “All you do for us. For our business. For me.”

Stubborn annoyance lingered on her face. Robin got that from her, adopted or not.

“Listen here, my plan isn’t what you had in mind, I know,” he mused into her hair. “But it’ll keep the news out of our intricate business.”

“If he has been moving funds from where they belong to private little endeavors, I will tell you.” The skeptical tilt of her head made him smile, and he leaned down to nudge his nose against hers. “Then you can talk with him as long as you like. How’s that?”

“Acceptable.”

But there was a little smile behind those headstrong lips, and when he kissed them, they kissed back.

Sensing some of the tension ebbing away, Masrani quickly waved for dessert. 

They settled down for coffee and snacks, and left-overs for the little glutton. The snacks included a particular sweet confection made of starch and sugar that he knew was a favorite of Crocodile’s. The catering staff had informed him that his wife preferred dark chocolate with salted almonds, and Masrani didn’t think the woman who didn’t had been born yet. Women loved chocolate best; everyone knew that. In any case, he had ensured both were there for them to enjoy, and plenty of it.

Watching them relax and exchange little darlings while enjoying the dessert, his thoughts wandered back to their predicament with the aviary. They needed extra funds. Caimen’s son had won the Junior Paleontologist award. This year, the prize included an exclusive spot on Team Triassic. They’d arrive later today, together with the other children and their parents.

He hoped she’d come without her husband. It wouldn’t be the first time, and Mr. Beckmann was far too good at bridling her blind enthusiasm while simultaneously shutting down Crocodile throwing money at whatever had her fancy right this minute. He’d instructed Dewy at Transport to put out a contract for a last-minute round trip to Isla Sorna with a higher payout than usual. Just this morning, he’d received confirmation that Redhair Shipping had picked it up. Surely, all the bad karma today was to balance the great boon of her coming alone. Perhaps they could squeeze a repeat visit to the aviary into their program for tomorrow…

🏝️🏝️🏝️

“Perhaps it is time we should move on?” Claire suggested after everyone seemed to have filled their appetites for dessert.

Shivs glanced up, and Crocodile moved as if to rise, but Masrani gestured widely and shot her a look. “Oh, no! Finish at your leisure,” he said as he rose, indicating the remaining coffee and Turkish Delight. “We have all the time in the world.”

Claire was fairly certain that wasn’t true. The children and their parents would arrive in less than three hours. If they were meant to visit camp, go over the camp counselors’ qualifications, discuss plans for additional funding and visit Henry’s tau-lab, they better get on the road.

“Perhaps it’s best,” she started, but Masrani shushed her immediately.

“Take all the time you need,” he repeated while giving her a pointed look she didn’t understand. Crocodile crooked an eyebrow, but said nothing as he watched Masrani and Ms. Dearing disappear into the interior of the aviary terrace.

Shivs leaned into him, but he caught her wrist on its way down.

“You heard Simon. All the time in the world we need to ‘finish’.” She waggled her eyebrow as she stroked his stomach instead, ran her fingertips across the bumpy texture of the seersucker fabric, feeling the muscles flex under the airy cotton. “I sure could use some finishing...”

“Azizti.”

There was a warning in his tone that she ignored.

“You still hard for me?” she whispered right beside his ear and slid her other hand into his dress shirt, taking in the shape of his chest.

He made a disgruntled noise but let go of her wrist and drew her flush against his side, the curve of his hook resting on her thigh.

“I know, baby,” she said as she caught his face in both hands and pressed a kiss against his scowl. “You’re uncomfortable.” She pulled herself onto his lap, straddling right across his erection. “Lucky for you, I know just what to do about that.”

Crocodile reached up, broad fingertips brushing her cheek, taking in the shape of her jaw and neck. “Do you?”

Shivs rolled her hips, grinding against him through their clothes, drawing a low grunt from him. “You know I do.”

He reached for her broad leather belt, and undid its straps with practised ease as she rode against him, sending shocks of need up from his loins. The belt dropped to the floor under its own weight, the sound ringing in the tropical quiet. Its texture contrasted with the light, silky feel of her onepiece. He could recognize the fabric out of thousands - Egyptian cotton. Giza 45, to be precise. Masotti had spared no expense, he thought with an appreciative smile as he let the delicate fabric slip through his fingers.

He groaned as she rode against him, fingers squeezing her soft hip. He switched to Italian as he reached up to stroke her chin with the curve of his hook. “Let me see you, honey.”

Shivs leaned back, enjoying the way his hips flexed underneath her when her full weight shifted onto his cock. He was still hard, and feeling the thick length press along her cunt made every single nerve in the vicinity of her hips tingle.

“I thought you didn’t approve of such displays,” she teased as she languidly rose, stepping just out of reach as she started to undo her onepiece. “Out here, all in the open…”

“Take it off,” he grunted. And the way her green eye squinted with mischief made his cock twitch. He needed to fuck her, feel her tight cunt cramp around him again as he took her the way she liked best. The sooner, the better.

Shivs let the olive cotton slide from her shoulders, crossing her arms to catch the cloth around her breasts as she tilted her hips, a coy smile curving her lips that did nothing but reinforce her seductive manner.

“You are not modest,” he rumbled as he caught her sly smile. He shifted in his seat without breaking their gaze, adjusting his cock straining against his pants.

Shivs let the expensive fabric slip from her fingers while cupping her breasts. The garment hung briefly on her hip until it weighed too much and slid down to the floorboards to pool around her feet. 

His appreciative noises made her body ache for his touch.

“You enjoy being seen.”

“By you,” Shivs said as she stepped out of her heels, letting one dangle from her foot before dropping it.

Crocodile beckoned her to him, and she slid into his arms, wrapping hers around his thick neck. She arched against his broad chest when she felt the weight and warmth of his palm against the small of her back. He ran the tip of his hook along her spine, savored the way her pubic bone rubbed against his stomach as she squirmed in his hold. This time he didn’t stop her hand when it wandered down.

“With you,” she added, as she toyed with the edge of his belt. She ghosted kisses along the firm muscle that ran up to his jaw, felt the rumble at the back of his throat run through it. Then whispered right beside his ear: “while taking your cock.”

“Whore,” he mused with an amused smile, satisfaction unfurling across his scarred face at the noise she made when he rubbed his fingers against her wet cunt.

“Wasn’t me who was harder than a rock formation throughout lunch,” she teased, and shifted to allow him better access, whining when he pressed his middle finger all the way inside of her. 

He slid a second finger along it, turning his hand to reach the sensitive spot inside of her, making her roll her hips towards him. “Sway for me, honey.”

Shivs moved her hips against his palm, savoring the sweet pleasure sizzling up her spine every time his fingertips rubbed just the right spot. It took no time at all for her to reach her peak.

When he felt her insides cramp, he retrieved his fingers, swiftly undid his pants and pulled out his cock. She’d barely formed a complaint when he wrapped his arm around her waist, hook pressed against her back. The way his arm immediately flexed against her hips sent a shiver up her spine the split second before he pulled her down on his cock, drawing a startled yelp from her as he buried himself completely.

Shivs whined as she came while he quickly bounced her on his cock, the swift but deep thrusts ricochetting bursts of pleasure through her that wiped every other thought from her mind while she clung on to him. When she opened her eyes, she saw the concentrated furrow creasing his brow, struggling to reach his own peak from the way she cramped around him. His biceps flexed with every curl movement, fingertips pressing into her butt as he lifted her up, again and again.

“Close,” he managed through clenched teeth, his gaze desperate when he opened his eyes. Sweat beaded on his forehead, a drop running down his temple when he caught her gaze.

“You can do it. I need it so badly, need to feel you,” she said as she tried to match his pace, moving her hands to his biceps to balance her weight, to angle her hips just right. The firm muscles strained beneath her palms, trembling more with every second and flex that passed. Fatigue was setting in, and fast. 

“Cum for me, baby,” she whispered in his ear, and he did. His embrace flexed around her, squeezing her against his broad chest as he abruptly held her still as she felt his cock twitch deep within her. The satisfied moan that rumbled up from his chest shifted pitch as he opened his eyes.

Shivs smiled, stretching up to kiss him. “Better?” She whispered against his lips.

“You do know what to do,” he rumbled. She liked the way his hand shook when he reached up to stroke her cheek. It had taken everything out of him. “Now how am I going to get up without you ruining my pants?”

Shivs smirked; she could feel his cum trying to leak out beside his softening cock already. “They’ll just have to pretend those stains aren’t there.”

His rumbling chortle at her jest made her feel warm and fuzzy as he braced his arm under her butt and rose to put her on the edge of the table. No doubt in an attempt to minimize splatter damage when he withdrew. Privately, she hoped it would fail.

🏝️🏝️🏝️

Claire glanced at her watch. Nearly half an hour - one they didn’t have on their tight schedule. Simon stood a short distance away by the elevator, absently patting the baby Sinoceratops while checking his phone. Annoyed, she turned on her heel and walked around the construction heaps to where they’d eaten their lunch.

She halted abruptly.

Crocodile might still be fully dressed but from the way his wife straddled his lap it was more than clear what they were doing. Nevermind that she wasn’t wearing any clothing anymore.

Stumpy’s chirp beside her all but had her jump out of her panty, hitting her elbow on his hard crest. Tingling pain shot straight up to her pinkie. Cradling her hand, she bit her bottom lip to keep from cussing.

“It’s all her, you know,” Masrani said sagely, causing Claire to flinch a second time. “She’s a feisty one.” He chuckled, seeming not in the slightest alarmed by what was going on. In fact, he appeared rather chuffed. “They’re comfortable, enjoying themselves.” He dug one of the sweets from amid a napkin and fed it to Stumpy, to keep him from bounding to his owners. “If his little woman is satisfied, he’s satisfied,” he continued as he pointed at her with the sugar-dusted napkin. “And that means those billions of his will come our way again. If he wasn’t bouncing her off every available surface the minute we turned our back, that would be bad. Very bad indeed.”

It was then that Claire realized what she thought she’d seen earlier, just before lunch, was probably exactly what she’d thought after all. Dumbstruck, she followed her boss back the way they came, Stumpy frolicking around him begging for another treat.

“He indulges her in whatever she wants,” Masrani said, sounding quite sure of himself. “Tell Henry that flying giraffe is next. You mark my words, if he hatches one we will have all the funding we could dream of for the aviary and then some!”

She wasn’t really listening.

What had Mr. Crocodile said? Just after the pteranodon scare?

Manterrà le journaliste fuori di opere barocco nostra

Or, something to that effect. Her Italian was next to nonexistent. She was banking on what little she remembered from her International Tourism education. ’Le journaliste’ meant journalists, or a reporter, or the news, maybe? What had struck here were those last few words: ‘Opere barocco nostra’. They sounded familiar, but she couldn’t remember from where.

“He owns that hotel chain, right?”

“Crosino, absolutely,” Masrani said. “He’d be appalled if he heard you call them hotels, though! They’re a completely winning combination of casinos and wellness resorts, very luxurious and more affordable than you’d think!”

A connection nagged at Claire’s thoughts, but she couldn’t put her finger on it. “Are they popular?”

“Wildly. Consistently in the top 25 of Vacation Resorts To Die For,” Masrani said, then added: “You know, from Dany Travels? The Instagram-famous tween travel vlogger?”

Claire had no idea who that was, and it seemed Masrani could read it from her forehead for he shook his head in a distinctly disappointed manner. “I mean to convince him to license one here.”

“A casino?!” Claire said.

“Wellness resort! With a casino, amongst many other things!” Masrani straightened his jacket. “We ought think of our adult guests too. Not all of them come here with families; some might come alone or with friends or their partner, and want a good night of entertainment.”

Claire frowned. “We have dinosaurs? We have midnight tours? Visits to the raptor pens?”

“They’re wildly popular, Claire. Wildly!” Masrani slung his arm around Stumpy’s neck, gesturing with the other as if painting a canvas only he could see. “We will call it CroDino.”

Claire forced herself to smile but couldn’t help her toes curling in her shoes.

Masrani nudged her with a grin. “We’ll suggest he build it with a good view of the T-Rex enclosure and its watering hole. She’ll like that!”

Claire couldn’t imagine them liking any part of this.

Least of all the name.

🏝️🏝️🏝️

The baby herbivore had helped itself to all the carefully crafted food that Jenny had made and left a festive warzone in its wake.

Dakota wondered if the whistle had been its owner.

A deep voice carrying through the trees from up the path confirmed it a moment later.

“Stumperton! Come here at once!”

A woman’s voice joined in, sharp and clear as it ricocheted between the trees. “Stumpy! Where did you go?”

The Sinoceratops baby looked longingly at the plate of cookies, but a sharp whistle pulled its attention back. It galloped up the path, leaving Dakota and Jenny in a mess of wrecked dinosaur decorations and food.

Jenny rubbed her eyes furiously before she began cleaning up the mess, dragging a can over to swipe the remnants of her work into the trash. “Think Claire could order us some pizzas?” Balling up the tablecloth she stuffed it into the trash.

“I'll call her now. I'm sure she'll understand.” Dakota tried to reassure Jenny, but she was just as pissed. Jenny had worked too hard for a baby dinosaur to ruin it.

The phone rang once, twice, and then a third time before Dakota realized she could hear it from up the path.

Claire's crisp tone drifted through the trees. “Dakota? Hello? Where are you?”

That was odd. Why wasn't she at the docks to pick up the kids?

“We're down by the firepit. We ran into a minor problem,” Dakota said, but she could already see Claire's white blouse through the foliage.

Jenny ignored her as she crouched to pick up the wraps ‘Stumpy’ had dropped and tossed them into the trash.

“We're on our way down,” Claire said before she hung up.

Jenny couldn't help but roll her eyes, of course, that dinosaur wasn't a coincidence.

Dakota wondered who Claire meant by ‘we’ as Jenny continued to clean up the mess, but her question was answered as the odd little group came into view from between the Red Woods. Claire Dearing guided the group down the path. She was followed by a slim, red-haired woman wearing an eyepatch, and the tallest man Dakota had ever seen. If his height didn’t make him intimidating already, the brass hook on the end of his left wrist sent a chill down her spine. His right hand drifted to the woman’s waist as she stepped over a root and the way it lingered, Dakota assumed she must be his wife. To her surprise, Simon Masrani was with them as well, hidden behind the man’s bulk and followed closely by the dinosaur that had wrecked their lunch.

“Oh dear, it looks like the little guy helped himself.” Masrani laughed, but his smile was tight as they examined the mess.

Jenny huffed but didn’t bother to look up as she tossed a crushed pudding cup in the trash can.

“What a shame. Was this for the campers?” Claire asked, her eyes flicked to the banner Jenny had hung from the trees. The cheerful ‘Welcome to Team Triassic’ that had been carefully painted on a large tarp fluttered in the breeze, a trail of dinosaur footprints stamped around it. It seemed sad now, the only thing Stumpy hadn’t trampled or devoured as it hung out of reach.

“Yeah, we figured the kids would be hungry from the trip and it would give them a chance to meet before camp started.” Dakota couldn’t see Jenny’s face from behind the trash can, though she heard a small sniffle as her girlfriend tossed a handful of carrots over its side.

“That’s so sweet; you must have worked all morning on this. It’s a shame Stumpy found it first.” The redhead smiled as she squatted beside Jenny to pick up the trampled napkins.

“We can have custodial come clean up, Mrs. Figarland. No need to get your hands dirty,” Masrani said, but was silenced by the look her husband gave him.

“Really, it’s not a problem. Our pet made the mess; so we should at least help clean up. Right, Habibi?” Her tone was pleasant, but she shot a pointed look at the quiet man, who had yet to say a word or introduce himself. Dakota didn’t like the way he stared down at Jenny. She thought she saw a hint of confusion cross his scarred face, like he was trying to place Jenny, but it was gone when he turned to answer his wife.

“Of course, we should have kept him closer. Perhaps we can have food brought in from the park?” He reached inside his pocket for his wallet. “I’ll cover the expenses.”

Masrani waved his hands in front of him as if he were shooing away mosquitoes. “Nonsense, it won’t be a problem to bring in a couple pizzas, right, Claire? Kids love pizza, and maybe some sodas? We can make an order and have it here in no time.”

Claire pulled out her phone with an apologetic smile, as if all this was her fault. “No problem at all,” she said as she stepped away to make the call.

“Now really, Simon, I must insist you let us cover the expenses. It is our fault their hard work was destroyed by Stumpy. Who knew the little guy would be so hungry?” Mrs. Figarland chided lightly as she wiped her hands on a napkin before she held one out to Jenny.

Dakota wasn’t sure, but she thought she saw Jenny turn her face away, one long braid falling over her shoulder with the movement. “It’s fine, really. My fault.” Jenny muttered and brushed the dirt from her knees as she stood, taking the napkin without looking at the woman. “I shouldn’t have left the food unattended. Don’t worry about it.”

That look crossed over the man’s face again, and this time Dakota was sure she caught recognition in his eyes as his gaze swept over Jenny and up to her face. “I feel terrible you went to this much work for our children and now it’s ruined.” Mrs. Figarland said gently. Her fingers brushed against Jenny’s hand when she took the napkin, and Dakota was surprised to see her girlfriend flinch away as if she had been shocked. They had noticed it as well, as Mrs. Figarland stepped back towards her husband with a mild frown.

“Your children? Are they part of the program?” Dakota changed the subject, and Masrani took the cue.

“Yes! Yes, introductions are needed, of course!” He waved to Dakota, and she gave them a tight-lipped smile. “This is Dakota-”

 “I go by Dee actually,” she interjected only for him to wave her off.

 “Right, right? She’s one of the camp counselors, and this is Virginia.”

“Jenny.”

Dakota didn’t miss how Jenny was still trying to avoid looking at the parents. Normally, she was good with them? Chatting away and reassuring parents their precious dumplings would be just fine. Dakota didn’t like it. This was not like her.

“They’ll be in charge of the campers, making sure they get to their activities, dinner, and beds in a timely manner,” Masrani continued as if Jenny hadn’t corrected him. “And this is the father of some of our campers, Sir Crocodile. Oh, and his wife.” Dakota noticed the way the tall man’s lip twitched at the introduction. Masrani had tacked on his wife as an afterthought, and he clearly didn’t like it.

 “It’s nice to meet you both, though I’m sorry things are such a mess. I promise it did look really nice,” Dakota said with a small wave to the table where the baby dinosaur had returned to help himself to the last of the cookies. “Jenny worked all night on it.”

“I think Stumpy appreciated it, he can’t seem to get enough,” Mrs Figarland said, a slim eyebrow raised at the way it was licking the platter. “What’s in the cookies?”

Dakota brushed her blonde hair out of her face. She had meant to have Jenny braid it but they hadn’t got the chance. “Oh, um, I think they were just sugar, peanut butter, and egg. Right Jen? It won’t make him sick, will it?” She looked down at Jenny, who had made her way to her side, though she stood slightly behind her.

“Yes, that’s all they were,” Jenny said, her eyes on the dinosaur as Sir Crocodile looked down at her.

“Well, that explains it! Stumpy loves peanut butter. He probably smelled them and came running.” His wife gave a soft laugh. “No harm done; the kids feed him all their table scraps when they think we’re not looking.”

Dakota let out a covered sigh of relief; she did not want to be held responsible if it got sick. Who knew what that vet bill would cost?

Claire came back with a satisfied smile as she returned her phone to her pocket. “They’ll have them ready in about thirty minutes, though they will need to be picked up. The camp is not public knowledge yet, so not many people have access to the roads,” she explained at Sir Crocodile’s questioning glance.

“Not a problem, Claire. We can go pick them up and have them back before the kids get here,” Dakota said. They had been given a jeep to run to the main park for supplies.

“Perfect! The campers will be coming on the three o’clock ferry, so there should be plenty of time for you to get to Main Street and back.” Masrani clapped his hands together, obviously very proud of himself that the disaster had been averted.

“Should we continue with our trip? Or did you want to see the rest of the campsite?” Claire asked, it really was a long ride down to the ferry docks.

“I’m sure Virginia will give us all a tour when we get back,” Sir Crocodile replied, his hand wrapped around his wife’s waist to draw her closer to him.

“Right, of course.” Dakota tried not to let her smile slip, but the way Jenny’s name rolled off his tongue with such familiarity made her stomach twist. “No problem, sir.”

Jenny smiled through clenched teeth, her hand finding Dakota’s and gripping it like a lifeline.

If the others found the quick exchange odd, they said nothing.

Masrani already ushered them back up the path to the Jeep they had brought. Stumpy lingered behind before the woman whistled. The fat little dinosaur galloped after them and soon they were out of sight behind the treeline.

“What a weird couple.” Dakota let out the breath she hadn’t realized she had been holding. “I bet they’re rich. Ha, they sure looked like rich people, don’t you think?” She let her shoulders relax, but turned to Jenny when she didn’t respond. “Jenny? Are you all right?”

Jenny shook her head, braids swinging before she bent over the trashcan and vomited up her breakfast.

Alarmed, Dakota quickly grabbed her hair before it got caught in the crossfire. One hand rubbed soothing circles on Jenny’s back as she heaved. “Baby? Hey, what's wrong? Is it the heat? Do you want some water?” Dakota offered her a canteen, and Jenny took it gratefully, rinsing her mouth out and spitting into the trash. Her face was ashen, and Dakota could see fresh tears building in her eyes.

“Do you remember that ex I told you about? The one that turned out to be married?” Jenny whispered, her hand shook as she wiped her mouth.

Dakota nodded slowly. “The husband threatened you right? If you didn’t leave his wife alone?” Jenny had been a mess when they first started dating, a nervous wreck that jumped when Dakota tried to initiate any sort of intimacy. She remembered the frightened look Jenny had the first time she had told her about them, about the things they had talked her into doing.

“Do they remind you of them?” Dakota guessed they did seem to have that ‘Better Than You’ attitude to them. Rich people, for sure.

The crunch of heavy footsteps interrupted whatever Jenny was about to say. Her head snapped around to see Sir Crocodile as he made his way back down the path towards them.

Dakota stepped between Jenny and him, if only to give Jenny a moment to regain her composure. “Did you forget something?” she said as he stopped to stare at the bowl of punch Stumpy had miraculously left untouched.

“Yes, actually,” he said after a moment. “Here, get some treats for the children. Claire said she only ordered pizza and salad. And get something chocolate for my girls.”

He held out a shiny black credit card to them, the sun glinting off the silver script on its surface.

“Really, you don’t have to; we can figure something out,” Dakota tried to decline him but he simply continued to hold it out. With a resignation sigh she took it, surprised at the weight of it. “We will pay you back.”

Sir Crocodile shook his head, vague amusement tugging at his lips as he glanced at Jenny behind her. “No need. I don’t mind helping out. It was our dinosaur that caused the mess.”

He turned and left with that, but not without another curious glance at the punch.

“What an odd man,” Dakota observed once she was sure he was out of earshot, the rumble of a jeep somewhere through the dense leaves.

“You have no idea,” Jenny muttered, her arms wrapped tightly around herself as she stared at where he had disappeared.

Dakota frowned, then flicked her gaze from where he had left, down to the shiny black card in her palm, and back to Jenny.

“Wait… You’re not saying…?” she said slowly, but Jenny had begun to walk away.

“Come on, we don’t have much time,” Jenny called over her shoulder, her gaze dead ahead. Her sneakers kicked up dirt as she stalked up the path.

A glance at her watch told Dakota they had less than two hours to go for the pizzas and be back before the kids showed up with the rest of the parents. They really would be cutting it close. She hurried to catch up to Jenny, but the punch bowl caught her eye, curious about what had attracted Sir Crocodile’s attention about it.

Sweat trickled down Dakota’s neck from the heat, making her hair stick to her skin. There didn’t seem to be anything unusual about the punch. Chunks of solid, creamy ice bobbed in the bubbly concoction. Every round scoop intact. Frozen. Perfectly frozen.

“Deedee!” Jenny called from the trees.

Dakota heard the creak of a jeep door, and the engine roared to life. She shook her head and jogged up the trail. What an odd man.

🏝️🏝️🏝️

[empressofmankind]

You ever just sit down and think: "but what if I drew him like a real ass person, rather than the Preferred Stylisation TM?"

So. That happened.

[empressofmankind]

you ever get so genuinely upset when you see fancontent like art or edits of your favourite thing? like what do you mean other people know that? It’s MINE I want everyone to associate THAT thing with me forever and absolutely no one else

[empressofmankind]

The sudden urge struck me to put some colour on him...

[empressofmankind]

In theory, maybe I get the “we’re all just playing with barbies, they’re fictional characters, no interpretation is incorrect because it’s an interpretation” argument. But actually no, not all takes are equally valid. Framing something as an interpretation doesn’t mean it inherently has merit. Some takes are completely incorrect and betray a fundamental misunderstanding of the source material. They just aren’t a reason to harass people or send death threats

[empressofmankind]

I've said it before, and I'll say it again - Euron is the durge of all time. Thanks for coming to my TED-talk

[empressofmankind]

I live to serve <3

Did you know character design doesn't need to follow societal conventions.

You can give female characters mustaches. Male characters dramatic eyelashes. Female characters broad shoulders and flat chests. Anyone can have anything

You can give any of these to other gendered characters as well. Get funky and spicy

[empressofmankind]

Occasionally I get asked about my outlining process, which is probably more than a little overwrought, but certainly easier to explain with visuals. I've shared this guide on twitter and insta, so I'm adding it here too, and hopefully there's something useful in it for you!

[empressofmankind]

my biggest enemy in any video game: full inventory

[empressofmankind]

I've noticed how it's only one side that gets really mad about people liking (their) OCs.

Do not assume you are better than anyone just because you hate x reader fic. The whole point of OCs is that everyone has a different one. YOu do not get to force yours on someone who only wants to see something entirely different. Good OCs on the level with canon characters are very very rare and it takes some nerve to presume that your OC will be someone others will want to read. We are here for Astarion, Gale etc. not for some rando we have no investment in and who is nothing like our Tav that we care about. x reader fics are perfect for natural immersion and you are not as smart as you think you are by hating them.

I am just the poll's author asking a neutral question, I am not responsible for the different opinions people leave in their reblog tags. Thank you for your perspective on X Reader fics tho!

[empressofmankind]

New ask game:

Reblog if you want your followers to tell you what your trademark ™️ is. Like, what’s that thing that really identifies you.

[empressofmankind]

@tiredemomama

Some of the strongest warriors’ bonds are forged when you find other canon/OC shippers who share your vision and you just pass the Character around like a blunt.

[empressofmankind]

i made a character sheet. free to use as you wish, feel free to change whatever you want XD open source ass thing. spent all of ~maybe an hour on it.

Credit: the text in the insert-image box comes from this video, and the text for the top three lines (intense, complex, fruity) comes from this post. The actual image was made with the free NBOS character sheet creator, which is a sort of dated but free and solid text-layout sheet maker intended for ttrpg style character sheet creation.

[empressofmankind]

I am legally bound to fill these out for Euron whenever I see one, it can't be helped. Got it from here!

[empressofmankind]

i made a character sheet. free to use as you wish, feel free to change whatever you want XD open source ass thing. spent all of ~maybe an hour on it.

Credit: the text in the insert-image box comes from this video, and the text for the top three lines (intense, complex, fruity) comes from this post. The actual image was made with the free NBOS character sheet creator, which is a sort of dated but free and solid text-layout sheet maker intended for ttrpg style character sheet creation.

[empressofmankind]