goldwill-writing

[goldwill-writing]

In Someone Else's Skin- Chapter Two: Double Shift

And here's when we start to diverge from Tilikum.

Hey hey! We've got some warnings here for ya: Nightmares, Misgendering, Briefly mentioned homophobia, and slight dehumanizing

Don't let those dissuade you, it's all brief!

“Hullo lovelies.” Depoe tiredly greets his knifefish as they excitedly writhe in their tank. They deposit their keys into the bowl by the front door. The large tank spans a good portion of his dining room, as the podium the decently large tank is on replaces where he’d put a table. 400 gallons of water take up a lot of space, apparently. 

From the refrigerator they withdrew slightly frozen chicken and tossed it into the water of the tank, swiftly shutting the lid before he could get drenched by the fishes’ happy splashing. He decides on skipping dinner for tonight in favor of soaking in a bath. In the fog of their sleepy brain, they forego their normal ritual of adding things like candles and bath bombs to the mix. Depoe sits on the floor as he waits for the tub to fill, letting the sound of the rushing water pull him under in a dreamy haze. 

They’re back in the void of what he feels confident to assume is water. This time, they’re left alone for an indeterminable amount of time. He simply enjoys the peace while it will last, forcing himself to remain conscious enough to feel for the water level of the tub. They jolt harshly when their mind conjures the sensation of a thick mass of muscle wrapping itself around their waist like a hungry snake. The sound of a blade dragging against a whetstone echoes in his mind as he tears his hand from the water. 

Depoe stumbles forward onto their knees, grasping the tub tightly as they dry-heave. While trying to calm, they gaze into the filling tub, suddenly overcome with dread. Determined to push past this and enjoy himself, they strip down and he submerges himself in the warm water. Minutes tick by in an agonizing slowness, punctuated by the collection of wall mounted clocks on the wall outside the bathroom door. They sink further down, until the water is over their head. Neon blues, greens, oranges, and yellows flash in his mind's eye and he gasps underwater. Depoe flails in the bath, flinging himself onto the bathmat on the tiled floor. Water and stomach acid mix in a burning tonic as he clears his throat of inhaled water. Panic sears at their nerves, sending his system into overdrive as he crawls to his bed. 

He pulls himself up unto the plush collection of blankets and pillows, uncaring of the way they soak the sheets in bathwater, and pull the swaths of fabric towards their shivering body. A familiar numbness overtakes their senses as he processes his thoughts. Countless eyes judge them as he slowly relaxes, stretching out their thin limbs over the lumpy bed. He drags his frosty eyes over the slew of stuffed animals, each more bizarre than the last, mentally greeting them by name. 

“Hello, Maladaptive Guilt Response.” They hum, pulling the seahorse plushie closer, turning it this way and that in their hands. A curious ‘murr?’ is all the fanfare that Depoe receives to announce the solid mass that launches itself onto his stomach. A rather plump calico happily purrs and headbutts Depoe’s stomach from over the blankets.

“Have a good nap, Soup?” Depoe grins tiredly at the cat as she kneads the blankets, rolling onto her side in a bid for scratches. “Oh of course, how could I deny you scritchies?” A chorus of scratchy meows praise Depoe for his welcomed pets. 

Depoe lays in his bed, staring at the glowing star stickers and models of planets and their moons (all to scale!) that hang from the ceiling. They consider rearranging the star stickers to reflect the sky from a different hemisphere, but ultimately lose interest in that idea before he could even think of beginning. Soup quickly tires of Depoe’s, apparently, lackluster petting, and ventures off to other parts of their room. On a better day, Depoe would get up to put Soup in baby-jail. But for now he just lays immoble in his bed, listening to Soup mess with one of the many tanks or terrariums that litter the countless surfaces of his apartment. Trinkets clink together and sound to be wobbling dangerously from their places on shelves, tables, or the windowsills. But still, Depoe finds themself unable to tear their half-lidded gaze from the ceiling. 

The weight returns, this time to his chest in a purring mass of fur. They drift off like this, warm and paralyzed. 

---------------

“Good morning Carpet! Hello Drapes!” Depoe greets the annoyed cockroaches in a singsong voice. They hiss and writhe in his hands, letting him know just how displeased they are that Depoe dared clean out their tank. 

They sigh and place the insects in a “holding cell”, as he scrubs out the bottom of the clear tank. As soon as he’s done, and the roaches are back where they belong, Depoe drops in a chunk of apple as a peace offering. The hissing lessens and Carpet and Drapes both go still, already asleep. Depoe sighs, slapping their thighs as they stand, envying the simple life of a roach. 

“Ya spoiled brats.” They huff, picking up the supplies to clean the other twenty or so tanks. Snakes, lizards, fish, bugs, and even a random pair of rats all get their enclosures cleaned. By the time the tanks were cleaned, Depoe was low on time before they needed to leave for a meetup. The entire time he cleaned, orange and white hair haunted his mind. He shuddered, blanching at the thought of returning to that room. 

Pushing that hulking shadow to the back of his mind, they dig out clothes for the day. Grey-blue corduroy pants with white stripes and dice were weighed against old brown work pants covered in paint splatters. Going with the work pants, Depoe paired a faded pink shirt with the phrase “Have you donned the flesh recently?” and Uncle Sam on the front. They smile widely as they get to their favorite part of getting ready. 

Several random necklaces, a dozen or so bracelets, earrings that have dangling blinking doll eyes, and a generous amount of glittery makeup. They stand confidently in front of the mirror, observing themself from all angles. Giggling madly, he strikes a pose, blowing a kiss to his reflection. 

“Damn, I am one sexy bastard!” A wide smile pulls his lips back smugly. He somehow smiles wider when their front door bangs open.

“Oi, David Bowie wannabe, where ya at?!” Depoe runs into the living room, gasping dramatically when they crash-land on the floor in front of their friend. 

“West! My friend! Privet!” He pushes their upper body up, his manic eyes locking on a pair of deep brown ones. 

“Fix your face, man, ya weird little bug-thing.” West snarks, pushing Depoe’s face away as they walk past him. Depoe slumps over the counter near the door, bemoaning their friend’s nonchalance when insulting them. His head snaps up and their eyes lock onto West’s ragged, modified Doc Martens.

“Shoes!!! You heathen! Off! Off, now! What?! Were you raised in a pub?!” They gasp, scandalized, and stumble over to West, pushing him back towards the shoe rack next to the door. They ungracefully trip and land on their ass, hissing out a plethora of curses as he pushes  Depoe off of them.

“Fucking hell, pendejo. Your house is normally a mess, por qué tanto estrés?” Depoe raises an unimpressed eyebrow at West. 

“Ty chertovski khorosho znayesh', chto ya ne govoryu po-ispanski.” They snark while standing up, only to glare pointedly downwards. 

“Tch, you’ll never let up on this- ay dios mío, you are impossible.”  They unceremoniously kick off their Docs, purposefully leaving them on the floor in front of the shoe rack. 

“There, happy now?” Depoe simply smiles, making a shudder run down West’s back. Depoe skitters off to the kitchen, as generous as that term may be, and turns on an electric kettle. Deft hands pluck two boxes from a cabinet above them, then retrieve a box of sugar cubes, stealing a few for himself. 

“So wassup?” Depoe asks around a mouthful of sugar, crunching away happily on the grainy treat. West pushes his headphones to rest around his neck, this week’s playlist rattles the foam-covered speakers. They cringe, recoiling away from Depoe’s flagrant sugar consumption, and slink over to the living room.

“I’ve gotta head out,” He shudders lightly, “to meet with Alice and her wife.” He loudly whines, bracing their elbows on the counter. “My social battery is fucking drained, pal.” Depoe lets his head fall sideways onto the fake marble countertop with a dull thunk. 

West laughs humorlessly, a felt-tip pen between their fingers pokes at Soap as his eyes narrow at Depoe. “That sounds like a ‘you problem’, chico. But you made a plan with Señorita Alice and Señorita Kinju, and I know they’re hard ladies to make plans with!” West jabs his pen in Depoe’s direction as if to emphasize their point.

Depoe groans, running a hand through his hair. 

“I know that! GuuhHHhh, why! Do I! Have! To be! Like this?!” Their voice hitches up a breathy octave for comical effect. “Alice barely managed to squeeze this meeting in between all those damn conferences she’s been having lately! And don’t even get me started on her wife!!” The brunette slams his head semi-harshly down onto the counter.

“‘The world isn’t going to change itself.’” West sighs wistfully, spinning their pen over their knuckles. “Now there’s a dynamic duo of girlbosses. I’d totally let them take over the world… ‘Best power couple, and that’s on god.” They smile goofily, kicking his legs up on the coffee table and slinging their arms over the back of the couch. 

“You’d let them do a lot of things, West.” Depoe snarks critically, punctuating his statement with a saucy grin. 

The kettle clicking itself off ends their conversation before it can escalate. A silence that can only be created by the promise of tea settles between them. A pair of mismatched mugs are filled with boiling water, allowing bags of dried leaves to seep. 

Minutes tick by in the comfortable silence, only supplemented by the idle scratching of West’s pens on their sketchbook, the perfect tenor to the choir of baritone water filters and sopranic ticking clocks. 

The mugs clink dangerously on the faded coasters, a saccharine scent wafting up with the curling steam. West scoops up a mug tenderly, gazing down into the murky depths of the cup as though it will answer the questions that haunt their every waking second.

“So, what’s the drink of the day?” West rubs a thumb over their lower lip, testing their black lipstick to ensure it won’t transfer onto the mug.

Depoe stays perched at the edge of the couch, ready to leave at any moment. “Three parts white oolong peach tea, one part milo’s, and sugar- measured with my heart.” West freezes, glancing apprehensively at Depoe, then at their mug, wondering if this is the time when Depoe will finally kill him with the amount of sugar in one cup of tea.

West takes a tentative sip. It’s still broiling hot, and it’s certainly sweet, but it’s oddly pleasant. They swirl it over their tongue, musing over the thought that it could benefit from a shot of raspberry vodka. 

Another moment of silence lapses between the eccentric maximalist and the emo, both simply enjoying their drinks when Depoe clears their throat. West doesn’t need to look up from his sketchbook to know that Depoe is staring intensely at them. 

“Wassup?” West hums, setting their mug down to rub the lead that’s smudged onto their generously tanned skin.   

“Would you be willing to drop by in a while so Soap, Riddle and Diddle, and the Fuckery- TM- can get dinner? I won’t be back until a lot later, I’ve got a double today.” Depoe sighs and turns imploringly towards their friend. 

West shrugs, “Yeah, why not? That’s easy shit, pepino. Do they all still eat the same things as last time? Same storage spot?”

Depoe grins, relieved, and hums a confirmation.

“Thanks so much, dude, I really appreciate it.” Depoe glaces at his phone, shrieking when they realize that they’re officially running late. 

 “FUCK!”

Their work duffle bag and satchel are swiped off a chair near the door as they run out the door, barely remembering to put on shoes. 

“I’ll lock up!” West calls from the door while they watch Depoe run down the concrete stairs of their apartment.

-----------------------

Depoe had only one thought as their shoes beat against the pavement, and that was about how absolutely boned they were- and not even in the fun way! Alice and Kinju were two insanely hard to pin down women, both literally and figuratively, and Depoe had to make it to this meeting. 

The Lucky Rabbit Cafe appeared over the horizon, its charming wrought iron sign hanging over the side-walk like something out of a dnd campaign. Depoe wanted to cry in relief when they swung the door wide, spotting a neatly styled bundle of blonde curls at the counter. 

“ALICE!” Depoe gasps breathlessly, panting harshly as he claps a hand down on her thin shoulder. 

“Depoe!” She chirps, her smooth combination of a French and British accent like a honeyed balm on his nerves. “I’m so glad that you could make it.”

A barista calls out Alice’s last name, several mugs and plates of treats waiting for her. She smiles softly at him and links her arm with his, acquiring their help in transporting the dishes over to where Kinju is seated.

Depoe is led over to a tea table seated by a large window overlooking the street outside, several large, mismatched, plush chairs surround it. Kinju was as regal and breath-taking as usual. Her hair hidden under a shiny silk scarf that was tightly wrapped around her bun. The scarf was the same cheery yellow as the sunflowers on her dress, which gorgeously complemented her curvaceous body.

Alice laughed softly, imploring Depoe to sit, lest they spend all day getting nothing done. Alice sits just after they do in the chair closest to her wife, crossing her legs primly at the ankles. 

Depoe takes a moment to appreciate the pure elegance that is Alice and Kinju. Alice is dressed in her iconic outfit of a long flowy yellow skirt and long-sleeved white blouse. Of course she would coordinate her outfits with her beloved wife, everyone and their micro-biomes knew that Alice was a love-sick fool for her queenly wife. Speaking of which, the aforementioned wife was dressed in a simple yet beautiful white sundress that perfectly contrasted with her deep skin tone, and of course, decorated with yellow sunflowers. 

“Are you going to spend this entire time staring or are we going to get started here?” Kinju asks with a light and teasing tone, an eyebrow quirked knowingly. 

Depoe sputters and flushes with embarrassment, “S-SORRY! You both look very nice today.” The ladies laugh warmly at Depoe, and he cracks a grin when he realizes that they aren’t mocking him. 

“So, you told me that you had an idea for a research project?” Alice, ever the professional, is able to quickly get the conversation on track. Kinju sips at her drink whilst Depoe fishes for the manilla folder in their satchel. They fumble with it as they try to get it open, nearly dropping the whole thing in their rush to get their presentation off the ground. 

They were in desperate need of funding and a recommendation. They couldn’t screw this up, he needed this. 

“Y-Yes! So- Uhm-,” They present the first image with a flourish. “This here, as you can see, is a chart depicting the uptick in illegal activity surrounding Aqua-Sapiens.” The couple hum thoughtfully as they look over the paper.

“And this-” Depoe produces another graph, “Is the graph depicting the populations of Aqua-Sapiens in well known Aqua-Sapien settlements.” He falls off into a muttered, ‘more or less’, and moves on quickly.

“As you can see, the graphs are directly inverse of each other. My goal is less about furthering scientific knowledge of Aqua-Sapiens,” Depoe chokes when Alice gives him a confused look and quickly adds, “for now,” before continuing. 

“You see- I aim to secure iron-clad rights for Aqua-Sapiens world wide. Or at least, the status of ‘person’ for them.” They remove a series of sheets to hand to the women. “As you can see, there’s been a concerning trend circulating the internet of buying Aqua-Sapiens to keep as household pets!” They all scoff indignantly. Along with a multitude of screenshots featuring articles, headlines, and posts about “Pet mermaids” or “Service Selkies”, there were several images of Mermaids and other Aqua-Sapien being kept in inhumane conditions by well known public figures. 

“This can’t be allowed to go on any longer!” Depoe hisses, slamming a fist down on the table and jostling the porcelain dishes. “Aqua-Sapiens are complex creatures, just like humans! They deserve to be treated as such!” Depoe throws his hands in the air frustratedly, only to shrink back from the pointed stares from the other customers. 

“No, no- You’re completely right, angel fish.” Kinju clicks her tongue and sends a dangerous look to the other patrons, dispelling the onlookers immediately. “Dove, darling, what do you think?”

Alice stares out the window, an undecipherable look etched deep into her normally smooth face. A tense silence stretches across the table, apprehension gnaws at Depoe as they squirm impatiently. Kinju was only half of the infallible duo that he had to get support from, without Alice, all of their preparation would have been for nothing. 

“Darling?” Kinju starts, a hand resting on an arm of the chair Alice is perched on. 

“Whatever it is you need,” Alice begins, her voice dangerously low, “We can help. This foolishness has persisted long enough. This ends with us.” She turns towards Depoe, a blazing fire burning in her eyes. An ineffable determination electrifies the three of them.

“Really? Oh- Oh my stars, ok- great, amazing even. Alright then, this is how I want to start things-”

--------------------

Arson is such a beautiful thing when you think about it. It’s art, really! And it’s super fucking tempting when management tells you that you get to single handedly clean up a spoiled-brat’s eighth birthday party. Alone.

And of course the party wasn’t being hosted in the sanctuary’s standard party room, where at least the mess wouldn’t be too spread out. Instead, the party was being hosted in a completely rented out section of the sanctuary where the Tropical Mermaids were. 

Depoe stood by watching cake and pizza and plenty of other unpleasantness get smeared into the carpeting and on the glass of a tank. The hoity-toity moms and spineless dads did absolutely nothing to reign in the children. 

As per the usual, the birthday girl was the worst of them all.

“Do! A! TWIRL!” The brat demanded, stamping her twinkle-toes clad foot down on the ground when one of the Mermaids simply crossed their arms and huffed. “DADDY!” She shrieked, tossing her head back and forth, causing her pigtails to whip around. Depoe wished they could slip away and avoid the inevitable tantrum this kid was going to throw.

A heavy-set man with a comb-over quickly waddled over to his daughter, listening intently and turning to harshly scold the Mermaid.

“Now listen here, angel-cakes,” He cooed as he turned back to his daughter, “This fish-thing is probably too stupid to understand you. I’d bet its trainer didn’t work very hard with it.” He said condescendingly. 

“I want it to dance for me! Daddy! Make it dance!” The little girl stamped her foot again, jutting out her lower lip, which had begun to wobble dangerously. The dad looked around frantically, desperately searching for someone. 

He smirked venomously when he made eye-contact with Depoe.

“You there! Ma’am!” Depoe froze, petrified of confrontation. How long had it been since they’d been misgendered? Surely it had been ages. They don’t look the slightest bit feminine today, it was a masc day after all. 

“I want you to get me whatever employee is in charge of training those things!” The man bellowed, walking confidently up to Depoe, invading their personal space. 

“Uhm… I’m sorry, what?” They asked nervously, backing away from the man who reeked of bad cologne. 

“Are you deaf or something? The trainer! Get me the person responsible for that poor excuse of entertainment! I thought zoo animals were supposed to be trained!” He yelled, spittle flying into Depoe’s face. 

“I’m t-terribly sorry, sir.” Depoe started to look around for any excuse to run off, “I’m afraid- I’m afraid I can’t do that for you…”

A vein on the man’s bald forehead popped as his face reddened from anger. “And why not?! I’m a paying customer! Do you have any idea how much money I spent to reserve this room?! If you value your job at all you’d better get me someone who’s in charge here! I should have you fired!” He jabs a finger at Depoe’s chest to punctuate each sentence. With a trembling hand, Depoe grabs the walkie talkie off his hip, squeaking out a request for a team leader to help into the mic.

Depoe feels like they could shed actual tears of relief when a head of brown hair enters through a nearby archway. 

“Depoe! What seems to be the problem?” Mason, his manager, smiles warmly. Depoe vaguely motions to the man in front of him, making a few nondescript noises. 

“Hello, Sir! How may-”

“Well it’s about damn time!” The man turns on his heel, crossing his meaty arms over his chest, a smug look on his face. “I’m glad there’s a man around to talk to. Maybe I’ll finally get somewhere!” The man laughs loudly, his beer-belly bouncing with his guffawing. 

“Firstly, sir, language. This is a family establishment after all.” Mason gestures to the crowd of party-going children behind him. The father scoffs and rolls his eyes dismissively. “Secondly, I’m sorry to say that I’m a little confused by the ‘man’ statement. Could you elaborate on that?” 

“Well, obviously I’m talking about her!” He thrusts his thumb over to Depoe. 

“I don’t follow. Depoe isn’t a woman.” Mason’ smile is strained at its edges.

“I know a woman when I see one! I’m not an idiot! You can’t fool me with your LMNOP nonsense!” The man sniffs, holding his nose up indignantly. 

“But Depoe was born a man?” Mason throws Depoe a questioning glance, prompting a noncommittal shrug from them. “Yeah, he’s about the most man you can get. BUT THAT’s not what I’m here for, is it?” Mason swiftly reroutes the conversation, waving Depoe off to do something else.

Depoe mouths a hasty ‘thank you’ and nearly sprints away, moving about the outskirts of the party to clean what they can. 

Every so often Depoe throws glances over his shoulder, watching the drama from a distance. Mason and the father seem to be very heavily arguing about something.

Depoe picks up the empty pizza boxes. Mason’ smile is tense and his eye is twitching. The man’s face is a deep shade of red from his yelling, sweat is trickling down his forehead.

He sweeps up trash, occasionally sending apologetic looks to the overwhelmed Mermaids being harassed by young children. The man has his chest press up against Mason’ torso, Mason isn’t saying anything. 

The children have been herded to a single table, all singing a horrid chorus of “Happy Birthday”- to Jenny if he heard correctly- and he had to physically restrain themself from laughing loudly at the absolute disgust on the Mermaid’s faces. Mason wasn’t smiling anymore, the dad was making threats now. Depoe knows security has been called, Mason doesn’t take threats idly. 

With a deeply scarlet face, the father waddles back to the group, Mason watching from a distance with his arms crossed over his broad chest. The children’s faces all fall one by one as the man talks. Jenny is the first to burst into hysterical tears as her mother gathers up the presents she didn’t even get to start opening. The parents whisper critically to each other, sending nasty glances to the man and his family. Security arrives and the families are quickly escorted out of the building. 

“Welp, the man got himself and his family banned from the sanctuary. And we will be updating our terms and conditions on renting out one of these rooms in the future.” Mason sits backwards on one of the fold-up chairs, arms crossed over the back, as he explains. 

“Thanks for coming to my rescue, Mason.” Depoe picks at the skin on the back of his hands sheepishly. Mason laughs bitterly before sighing tiredly.

“I’m just sorry you had to go through that.” Depoe shrugs mentioning off-handedly that they’re used to it, and it doesn’t bug them all that much. Mason gives him a look that Depoe misses, and stands, grabbing the broom from their hands.

“Go ahead and start on the tank, I’ll finish up the sweeping.” 

Depoe is tempted to argue, insist against his manager doing their job for them, but he knows it’s no use arguing with Mason once he sets his mind to something. Depoe internally groans, knowing this will backfire on him somehow, and pops in their earbuds. 

-------------------------------

Five hours pass in a flash as they clean in tandem, only an occasional word here and there to break the relative silence. 

West took it upon themselves to keep Depoe updated on the exploits of Soap, heavily documenting her day through images they texted to him. After five or so messages Depoe stopped checking their phone, promising himself that they would look again during their break.

In all honesty, their break was legally mandated to have been several hours ago. But with the absolute disaster zone the Tropical Mermaid wing had been turned into, there was no way in hell Depoe would be able to step away for long enough to take his break.

Their feet were killing them, their back screaming in agony when they finally sat to breathe for a moment, guzzling water like there was no tomorrow. 

“Nice work, Depoe! I’ve gotta go finish up some paperwork for the new transfers we’re getting, but I’ll see ya around!” Mason patted their back encouragingly before leaving to do his actual job. 

It was finally break time. Depoe groaned loudly as he rolled his shoulders, trying and failing to release some of the tension in his shoulders as they headed wherever their feet took them.

A familiar chill snapped them out of their thoughts. Their breath hitched when they realized where they wandered. A massive cylindrical tank sits in the middle of a circular room. They remember how just yesterday they were being stared at like he was nothing but a piece of meat. He remembers the deep terror he felt. 

“No thanks!” They squeak as they turn tail and run, heading for anywhere but there. He ends up in a wing he isn’t used to, the air around them grows thicker and more humid. The decorations are brightly colored and Depoe can tell that this wing gets plenty of foot traffic.

The wall abruptly ends and the absolutely massive tanks begins. Depoe guessed it must be at least a hundred feet long, no doubt twenty feet high. The floor lowers in front of the tank, rows of steps leading down into the sub-level. The inside of the tank has a gorgeous ecosystem of sea-grass, coral, and many other supplementary life forms. Smaller fish swim solo or in schools around the vast tank, some lingering near the top of the tank. Depoe steps closer to the glass, peering upwards. His suspicions are confirmed when he sees the late evening skies high above the water, the tank opens up to an open-air environment. 

They step away from the glass, happy to explore this room on his break. Signage near the side of the tank reads:

“Golden Koi Siren (Aka: Oro-Aquasapien Cyprinus Carpio). The females possess a special ability. Female Golden Koi Sirens let out a slime from glands around their gills that releases a powerful scent that dulls their prey's nervous system. Their tongues can secrete an intoxicatingly sweet neuropoison that makes it hard for their prey to think. On average, a Golden Koi Siren’s tongue can measure anywhere from a foot long to three feet long.”

Depoe shudders at the mental image, and skims over the rest of the info-graphics on that wall. They connect their earbuds to their phone again and settle down on a step, pulling out a granola bar to munch on. Right about now, the siren that lives in this tank should be in the indoor pool, taking a break from the public eye. Depoe, remembering this, spaces out knowing that nothing interesting will be in the tank for a while. 

He muses with the thought of getting a proper tour, finally familiarizing themself with the full extent of the aquarium at once. Admittedly, it would be nice to not have to rely on a map every time his employer asks them to clean a sector of the sanctuary that’s new to them. 

“Meh.” Depoe rolls their shoulders, tossing the wrapper for their granola bar in the trash, only feeling moderately shitty for contributing to another janitor’s job. 

Despite the extensive employee list the Sanctuary has, Depoe doesn’t run into anyone for the rest of his shift. Even when curiosity gets the better of them and they return to that chilly circular room he doesn’t see anyone. A strange feeling of disappointment tugs at the frayed edges of his heart, a feeling they quickly dismiss.

“They want to kill me. Not seeing them is a blessing, it means that they aren’t fixating on me!” He forces a smile as he changes, and by golly he feels a tiny bit better by the time they’re slinging their bags over their shoulder and starting the long walk home in the brisk night air. 

“Nope, no disappointment here."

*----------------End--------------------*

Author's Notes:

Oh! There's multilingual characters btw.

West:

pendejo : Typically to refer to an idiot / stupid person

por qué tanto estrés? : Why so much stress?

Ay dios mio : Oh my god

Chico : Boy

Señorita : Miss

Pepino : Cucumber

Depoe:

Privet! : Hello!

Ty chertovski khorosho znayesh', chto ya ne govoryu po-ispanski. : You know damn well I don't speak Spanish

Ao3 link

As always, go and check out @llamagoddessofficial because she's one of my biggest inspirations and her writing is genuinely so good. Tilikum is in my top ten fics of all time!

@antholozities

[goldwill-writing]

In Someone Else's Skin- Chapter One: Erin

Summary: Inspired by “Tilikum” by Llama_Goddess. "Depoe is a janitor at Salvation Sanctuary, the one and only true sanctuary for aquasapiens. While it’s not what he imagined, Depoe is fine with this… kinda. One faithful day, they catch the eye of the illusive Erin. What follows is something they would have never expected."

Before Reading:

This work is intended to work as a writing exercise. The first chapter is similar to Llama_Goddess’, and for that- I apologize. Full credit to them for being what inspired this story. I heavily HEAVILY suggest reading her works- as they are all incredibly well written.

All characters in this story are original to me and a friend. The premise of chapter one and other basic details are based from Tilikum by Llama_Goddess.

Depoe and Erin are both the main characters of several other works in a string of AUs I’ve written to explore their characters for their own story.

This is not beta-read, and rocky, as all my first chapters are.

------------ “Please locate your nearest exit, the Sanctuary will close in 10 minutes. Thank you, have a good night!” The cheery tone that followed the usual announcements distorted somewhat and grated on their nerves. 

He grits his teeth and dumps the dustpan into his trash can, pulling a mop from the bucket they pull along behind them. A particularly large puddle of vomit had been completely ignored by the day-staff, and merely coned off for him to clean. They wrinkle their nose at the acrid smell, nearly gagging himself as the puddle leaves a stain in the faded, old carpeting. The lights had long since turned off, leaving only the eerie red “emergency” lights that lined the pathways. They huff, again, and douse the stain in chemicals that reek of fake citrus. He adjusts his name tag, giving a lopsided grin to the tag covered in fun stickers surrounding the name “Depoe”- which he’d always found fitting, considering where they work. Depoe went around the room, gathering the bags from trash bins to toss into his. 

As if on instinct, they avoid brushing against the large tank in the middle of the room. The room, which was one of the least visited for its intended purposes, held many cushions and couches. Its circular shape was to complement the cylindrical tank in the center of the room. The tank itself was a marvel in Depoe’s eyes, a near perfect recreation of rare deep sea reefs, dim black-lights to keep the illusion of the near pitch blackness of the depths alive. Informative props, signage, and wall decals are the only interesting things about the room, however. The dim lighting, the couches, and the cool air are the main features of the room that attract visitors. Parents bring their children into the quiet room to have naps and calm down from the excitement of the more… lively attractions. 

The room, in that regard, was meant to display one of the rarest types of deep sea sirens. Depoe chuckles bitterly at this notion. Erin, the allegedly “hauntingly beautiful” octopus siren, had never made an appearance before. Even most of the keepers had never seen her. Her pressurized tank held an impressive 600 thousand gallons of water, spanning 60 feet at its widest points and 30 feet tall, the hidden Goliath had plenty of space to swim. 

“It’s too bad the spoiled brat never comes out.” Depoe rolls his eyes, inserting some cash into the vending machine near the entrance to the exhibit. Snack in hand, and earbuds at the ready, Depoe staggered towards the tank. They plopped down on one of the many cushions in the room to take their break. 

Music fills their ears and lures them to a better place. Four years of college, another year filled with internships, and half a year of personal study… and this is where he lands. Up to their teeth in debt, mopping up various liquids and picking up trash that pompous assholes were too good to throw away on their own. 

His dreams tend to drown him, pulling him under waves of illusions, regardless of if he wants it or not. Their eyes glaze over, unseeing of the world around them, and they gaze at a nondescript spot in the tank. In their mind, they’re hundreds of feet underwater, or maybe millions of feet up in the air. Wherever they may be, he’s suspended in perfect pitch black. Their nerves gloriously unstimulated, no lights, no sounds, a euphoric lack of smells. He felt like he was in paradise. Until suddenly, he’s surrounded by brilliant lights. Sharp, unrelenting bone runs against his skin, and a sweet ambrosia on his tongue. A salty scent, as briney as the ocean itself fills his nose.

Depoe is dragged back to reality when his phone dies. They sigh loudly, crumpling up his wrapper in their hands frustratedly. On instinct he looks up without paying attention, only to glance up a second time, yelping loudly. 

“H-holy fuck!” He screams, scrambling backwards. Eight long, thick tentacles- all scarred and one a shorter stump- suction to the side of the tank. Two clawed hands press against the glass. A pair of glowing eyes lock on his. 

Hunger.

Pure. Raw. Primal hunger. 

Depoe freezes, chest heaving rapidly in a fearful exhilaration. She’s pressed herself as close to the glass as she possibly can. Her gills flare open and closed rapidly, pupils darting between thin slits and wide dilated black holes that eat up the startling radioactive green of her eyes. 

And above all, Depoe notes, she’s massive. A colossal behemoth that must be twice- no- three times his height. The base of each tentacle was no doubt thicker than double his waist, strong enough to crush his skull with a single flex. Long, black, needle-like claws are affixed to each thin finger. Her lips pressed together in a thin, expressionless, line. Black, purple, and blue speckles are splattered across her delicate face, her shoulders, neck, and collarbones. It was like someone had flicked a paintbrush at her pure white skin. Something deep in his soul, if he even had one, told him that if she did so much as peel back her lips, he would see a row of razor sharp teeth like ivory spindles. His studies told him that should she open her mouth, there would be several rows of said blades. 

Something stirred in him, like some pure primal instinct to run, to puff up his chest, to do anything. But his mind hummed with static whiteness, leaving him gaping at the illusive beast before him. Surely, they were the first one to see her in… well, he thinks it would be weeks, maybe months, at this point. Not even her keepers were successful in luring her out, the darkness of the tank making it near impossible to catch her on camera unless she chose to glow. He opened his mouth, gaping at her like a fish out of water. Suddenly, he found himself craving water as his voice lodged in his throat. Despite his fear, they pushed past it and managed to squeak out a greeting. 

“H-hello…” They stutter, unsure if she could even hear him. Her head tilts to the side before the glass is covered in black ink. By the time the filtration clears the water, she’s gone. The tank is just as empty as ever. 

“Depoe, are you on a walkie?” A crackling voice comes from the small device on his hip. 

“Well… it was nice meeting you… I guess.” They whisper to an empty room.

------------

Links:

Depoe: @antholozities

Inspired by:

[goldwill-writing]

That's me. That's my AO3 account. Pls go read my stuff, I'm very desperate for attention and comments.

[goldwill-writing]

UHM

UHM EXCUSE ME @somerandomdudelmao

DONT THINK YOU’RE SLICK

I SEE THE CJs

I SEE EM

WHY?!? WHY MUST YOU HURT ME IN THIS WAY?????