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xenonsreturn · 5 months

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The Diver

(a short story for adults ... who like tentacles)

The diver swam through the water, enjoying the resistance of it - the need to push through it, the need to drive herself, the need to kick and pull. The constant pressure surrounding her, the thrill of effort in her muscles, feeling the liquid warmth slide over her skin.

God, she loved the ocean. Some would say the sea had a mind of its own; but to her, it had no mind, none at all. That was one of the things she liked so much about it. It was a slave to stimulus, its response complete obedience to the laws of the natural world, the way the moon pulled the tides, the way the waves crashed upon the shore – there was no mind whatsoever. Just unthinking, colossal power. It couldn’t help itself but be the sea. And so many sailors and swimmers had learned – fatally sometimes – that you cannot resist the ocean. All you can do is swim with the tide. If you try, the sea will pull you under and swallow you whole.

She wondered about that sometimes, because she knew so many people that were not so different. Sure, the people she knew had sharp, complex minds; but there was always a part of them that could only respond to their most primal selves, no intellect getting in the way. Most of the time, she felt frustrated by their lack of mental engagement – never seeming to consider the world around them, never stopping to think – but sometimes, more often than she wanted to admit, she envied them. Sometimes, she wanted to be like that – to let go of her thoughts (so many goddamn thoughts sometimes!) and just . . . be. Right here, right now, no stresses or worries or plans or analysis. She supposed that was the way of the world – we needed that kind of intellectual involvement to survive, to grow – but sometimes, she just wanted to let that all go.

She wondered if animals felt the same. Did they have thoughts, complex thoughts, tangled in their brains? Or were they only driven by survival, just to the next moment and then the next. Of course, they weren’t completely guided by just stimulus and response, like the ocean, or like plants; their minds could indeed handle complicated tasks – but how much was just instinct? She felt the question was more interesting than whatever answer she might find in a biology textbook. She was sure science had an answer – at least a hypothesis – but she didn’t want more analysis, more quantifiable knowledge. She preferred to ponder.

She swam up close to the surface again, taking a breath through the snorkel (snorkel, she thought, was a very funny word, and she had no desire whatsoever to discover its origins, lest it ruin the enjoyment of just saying it), then turned and kicked back down again. She enjoyed skin diving more than true snorkeling, and far more than scuba diving. It was freeing, unencumbered – not limited to the surface, but not carrying a tank. Plus, she didn’t enjoy the wetsuits. Just her bathing suit and her mask and the water was perfect.

Through her mask, she spied something a little further out, just deep enough that she couldn’t make it out. It looked like some kind of bundle or tangle or something. Maybe a squid? Maybe just seaweed. Maybe – she hoped not – garbage. She kicked herself in the direction of the thing, determined to investigate.

As she drew closer, she could see it wasn’t garbage and was pretty sure it wasn’t seaweed either. It didn’t quite look like any squid she had ever seen. It was smaller than she was, but not by a lot. Its skin was pearly, like an abalone shell, shifting in the sunlight that filtered down from the surface. It was covered in some sort of tendrils, each moving lazily in the water, swaying almost hypnotically. Each tendril ended in an oblong, bulbous tip. It seemed to move slowly and rhythmically through the water under its own power, but almost just kind of drifting.

She had been around sea creatures many times before, and always felt fascinated to see how they thrived in such an alien environment. So she felt no fear as she approached, just curiosity. When she was about six feet from the thing (she wasn’t quite ready to call it a creature yet), it stopped moving. All the tendrils froze and went limp, and the thing just floated there. She began to have an eerie feeling, as if it was watching; although it didn’t seem to have anything resembling eyes. She wondered if somehow this creature (fine, yes, it wasn’t a plant) lived in the far depths of the sea, and somehow had risen to the surface. Was that even possible?

She climbed to the surface to take a breath through her tube, her eyes never straying from the creature. To her surprise, it began to follow her up, its tendrils beginning to stir again. She was glad her presence wasn’t causing it distress. She was suddenly insatiably curious, and she began to get the feeling that the creature was feeling much the same about her.

To test her theory, she swam back down; and sure enough, it followed, mimicking her movement almost exactly. To the left, same thing. To the right, and it mirrored her again. She swam back away, expecting the creature to back away as well; but instead, it swam towards her. Hmmm. Interesting. I guess you like to play, she thought. She swam back up, just far enough that she could breathe through the snorkel. The creature floated up with her, getting a bit closer. Its tendrils began moving, more agitated, more curious.

The tendrils began to uncoil from the creature’s body, and she began to see that some of them were quite long, like a squid’s tentacles. Could this thing be a squid? The ends of each of them seemed to shimmer and pulse as they moved about her. One of them seemed to reach out slowly, wavering in the current. She reached out as well, intrigued. Her hand touched the tip of the tendril and it pulsed slightly faster. She had expected it to be cold, but it was actually pleasantly warm, surprising her. Her fingertips stroked along the length of the feeler, and it seemed to respond to her touch, rubbing itself along her hand, then over her wrist and forearm, seeming to explore her. She drew back, but the tentacle extended, continuing to touch her arm.

She looked down, startled, as she felt another of the appendages touching her leg; tentatively stroking her skin. It was gentle, but she could feel the strength there as well. What was this thing? She shivered in spite of the warm touch of the tendrils. The bulging ends of each were pulsing faster now, in rhythm with each other. There was another snaking around her waist, and she felt it begin to pull her closer. She tried to disentangle herself, but the creature’s grip was snug and strong. She was just below the surface, and could breathe easily, but she didn’t want to become tangled in this creature’s grip, lest it dive too deep for her to breathe. With her free hand, she sought to pull her left arm free of the coiled tentacle, but it held her too snug, and then her free hand was no longer free, ensnared by another of the creature’s appendages.

She found herself surrounded by them, each pulsing faster, nearly throbbing now. They coiled about her, her arms, her legs, her waist, pulling her body slowly to and fro, the tips of the tentacles seeming to seek over her, prodding and pressing against her skin. The pulses were radiating from the heart of the thing, out to each tip. It was as if it was breathing, in and out, each pulse faster, the colours of the tentacles scintillating. She shuddered, still trying to free herself from the warm, throbbing grip of the creature.

One of the tentacles stroked the back of her knee, and she nearly gasped. That part of her had always been particularly sensitive, and the warmth from the creature flushed her with pleasure in spite of her distress. The creature seemed to sense it too, returning to perform the same stroking motion against her there again and again.

The bulging tips of the tentacles, too many now to count, seemed to engorge as they moved over her, touching, stroking, rubbing her everywhere. One gently touched her throat and she sighed again. Oh fuck, what the hell is happening? She felt her thoughts almost evaporating; the touches of the creature were overwhelming, warm and slippery pressure all over her. One touched her throat, another sensitive area, and she felt her body tense and her breath catch. The small of her back, the inside of her wrist, her belly, even slipping between her fingers; the creature’s touch seemed to seek until it found a particularly responsive part of her and then moved to play over it, almost as if it was feeding on the feelings it created in her.

One of them slid over her chest and she felt her nipples stiffen, poking against the fabric of her suit. It grazed over the cloth, then seemed to vibrate as if frustrated, unfurling itself until it found the edge of her suit, and then pushing it aside until it found her bare nipple, rubbing and rubbing back and forth. It curled around her, then the tip began to open, like a flower. This then settled itself upon her and she felt a gentle sucking sensation. She began to writhe against the creature, no longer trying to escape, but feeling her body move involuntarily as pleasure flowed through her. Another tentacle caressed her other nipple, this one seeming content to rub through the fabric.

Two of them coiled around her thighs, prodding and poking and fondling, pulling them gently apart. Another two snaked up her leg, pushing and pressing. Oh god. The tip found the little hollows on either side of her suit bottoms, brushing against her, coiling and uncoiling. Oh fuck. They slithered over the front of her suit, and she began to shake, trepidation and pleasure mixing at the idea of what might come next.

One of them found the edge of her suit and pulled it aside, its pulsing tip pressing against her now-swollen clit with an intense rhythm that made her eyes roll back. The other tentacle stroked the sensitive folds of her pussy, moving up and down the length of her, then pushing inside her, still throbbing. It explored her while the other vibrated against her little button.

She was barely aware of another tentacle moving down her back until it pushed inside her suit and parted her cheeks, brushing in between and finding her dark pucker, pressing slowly and firmly against her, pushing inside her.

All coherent thoughts fled as the creature fucked her, fucked into her, throbbing and pulsing, faster and faster, filling her, her mind completed empty except for the sense of delight and thrill and hhnnnnnnngggggggg.

The heart of the creature was pulsing too, its entire being enraptured, nearly glowing, its coils capturing her, drawing her close, flexing around and inside her; firm yet supple strength surrounding her as she felt her body responding to the ministrations of the tentacles. And she could see the creature responding as well, the rhythm of its pulses in time with the delicious throbbing of her most delicate, sensitive areas.

She could feel the pleasure building and mounting and growing in herself, coming on strong and hard, insistent, an orgasm approaching like waves crashing against the shore; and this one was going to be fucking tsunami.

The creature began to shudder, its pulses strobing and stroking around her, contracting and expanding. She could feel it inside her, deep and vibrating, insistently thrusting. She felt it enveloping her, each tendril touching and caressing and feeling her everywhere, her pussy, her nipples, between her fingers, her ass, her thighs, her elbows, her throat, her back, her ankles, her wrists, oh god it was everywhere, it was all over, she was consumed and writhing and ready to explode.

And then she felt herself cum, rippling over her, radiating out from her clit along every muscle and line and curve of her body, every sensation in her mind, waves rising and crashing over and over and over, world without end. The creature also seemed to erupt in feeling, every tendril touching her swelling and throbbing and then gushing, pumping hot thick white liquid inside her and over her, covering her, coating her as her orgasm continued, a warm pulse of her own rippling through her body.

Slowly, the creature’s spasms subsided. Hers began to ebb as well. She felt glowy and delightfully exhausted, although a bit apprehensive. What the hell did I just do?

The creature’s tendrils began to disengage from her body, slowly becoming more supple, withdrawing from inside her, drawing back to the heart of the creature. She moved her arms and legs, slightly surprised to discover they still worked after the experience. The fluid sloughed from her skin, drifting and sinking into the depths.

She took a deep breath and steadied herself. The creature began to slowly push away, swimming deeper and further out, its tendrils waving in the current.

As she swam back to shore, she pondered her earlier thoughts. Was that just stimulus and response, no mind, or was there a conscious intelligence directing the creature’s actions? Was there a primal need it was serving, with no consideration, or could there be direct intent behind it? She didn’t know which answer would be more reassuring.

As with so many other things, it was a question she preferred to ponder rather than answer, and she wanted to ponder it again and again, starting with her return to this cove . . . as soon as possible.

#mindfuck #story #short story #xenon2024 #xenon #xenon2022 #xenonsreturn

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muses-archive · 2 years

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the whim of today's wind #2

As exciting the unpredictable outdoors can be, the eternal calm of the realm beyond is always something Kazuha appreciates being able to visit. There’s so many things to love: the gentle golden light of the ‘sun’ he basks in, the breeze that graces the skin just right, the many animals the Traveler has decided to adopt and let loose on the realm grounds… a crane lowers its head now and lets him pat it gently, where normally it would take flight at the slightest sound.

While the turmoils of Inazuma may have settled, he has no desire to wander those lands with fresh eyes just yet.

There’s at least one more thing the realm beyond is good for, and he hears it approaching now; a morose wind, yet one with infinite determination.

“Xiao!” he yells, across the space that separates them from one island to another. He forgets about the crane, now startled and flaps its wings indignantly at his head, before stalking off. He gets a faceful of feathers for his efforts.

He teleports before him, an eyebrow raised as he sees the bird leave them be. Kazuha’s almost embarrassed to have been so eager to see him. Even though the Crux Fleet aren’t one for the adepti - “There’s no one to watch us out here except ourselves,” Captain Beidou had declared once - they were nonetheless Liyueans, and could furnish him with tales on a still ocean night. The Traveler told him about how Xiao was ‘the last Yaksha’, but any further details he would need to get from the man himself.

That’s fine by him. No one is exempt from the passage of time and its changes, least of all, those not of this mortal plane. Secrets and burdens are one’s own to choose to share.

Kazuha would probably never fully grasp his friend’s sheer audacity in challenging a god himself, but he could try befriending one instead.

“You’re here,” Xiao says, by way of greeting. After experiencing the weight the Raiden Shogun bore down on him, the adeptus seems so much lighter, more lithe.

The air around him feels slightly shifted, tinged with curiosity. Kazuha can never claim to fully read someone just from their general atmosphere and demeanour, though he could come close. As much as he’d like to ask Xiao for stories, how hard he fought being alone for however long it has been, now is not the time. Besides, they should put aside those troubles while they’re here. They're still strangers, after all.

“So are you. I didn’t prepare anything,” he begins, apologetically.

“You don’t need to,” ah, the now familiar arm cross.

“But I want to.”

A sigh. “You’re quite similar to the Traveler, aren’t you?”

“Oh, no, I couldn’t possibly be. I just want to be friends.”

“... you’re exactly the same.”

He has to laugh at that. Even though Xiao's brow is still furrowed, his gold eyes look more mellow. The storms within have settled, for now.

“If you say so,” he stifles another chuckle. “What brings you here today?”

“Same as you, I suppose.”

“An animal lover?” he mock gasps. “I never would have guessed.”

Xiao rolls his eyes and does not deign to respond.

“How about this, let me play you a song? I’ve been practicing the harp.”

“Do whatever you want.” He sits down and closes his eyes, like he were meditating.

Well, no pressure then. The convenience of the realm beyond allows him to summon the harp as he wills it. It feels unusually heavy in his hands at this moment, so he takes a deep breath to calm himself. He stays standing, his back facing the ‘sun’, and gingerly plucks at the strings.

He thinks of the Liyue mountains they scaled. He remembers the unbroken moon on the ocean’s surface he saw in a haze, as he drifted out to sea, alone, and unsure if he would even survive the journey. Recollecting the rambunctious crew, while disrupting the peace, still meant he was in good company, plied with the stinging alcohol that burned the throat, settling warm in the stomach. He wants to include the winds of change he felt, going ‘home’ again, before he left once more to experience the rest of the world before he decided on his next move.

Kazuha jumps when he feels a hand on his face, but he’s caught before he completely falls over. Xiao looks flustered. “I didn’t have anything else on me,” he mumbles, looking away as he helps Kazuha straighten up.

It takes him a moment to notice the dampness on his cheeks. “Sorry about that,” he coughs, wiping away any remnants. The arts is a cruel mistress, making one vulnerable when you least expect. He dare not look at Xiao, finding a blade of grass far more compelling to observe.

“You play good.” Terse praise, but praise nonetheless.

“Thanks.” Maybe he should push his luck, steeling himself to look at Xiao. His back is turned to him. The sense of disappointment is tangible. “Same time… next week…?”

After a long pause, he finally answers. “Don’t get used to it,” and vanishes.

With no one left to catch him, Kazuha sits down heavily on the ground, left alone with a roaring in his ears, and the rapid thumping of his chest.

#musearchive whimsy 1 #kazuxiao

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beardedhandstoadshark · 7 months

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what are your ocs thoughts on science & art? which do they give more importance to? how much value do they place on each?

Hi! This got long. Sorry :(

Local history geek Violet finds both art and science fascinating, especially in terms of their development and how their existence in turn shaped the world.(aka history). Though art is a bit complicated as on one hand, it’s a way to show feelings you can’t say out loud (smth she’s very familiar with) but on the other also grew up right in the middle of the elitism, snobbery, power displays etc that often comes with it, seeing the worst parts it can stand for up close.

Red’s the type of person to stand in a museum and say "I can make that too“ in front of every single work, and doesn’t show much interest for science either. She gets why others care, but just can’t bring up the energy herself (at least not on a deep level.) Mostly just interested in the practical aspects of it. Music is the big outlier here though. (…and not just because "why do I hear boss music“ is a real thing that happens for her since the Big Adventure™️ 4 years ago and comes in real handy for dodging dangerous situations.)

Postman currently still nicknamed Yel short for Yellow wouldn’t say he cares about science at all, before then going on a 20 minute tangent about the interplay of wildlife in the ecosystem they’re currently in based on plants and trek routes of animals, followed by pointing out the ecological aspects leading to certain evolutionary lines in creatures, and why all of that is the most important thing in the world. Sorry dude but Biology is science too. Considers cooking/baking an art form because love is stored in the food made for people you care about. And loves cooking/baking. It is SO important to him.

Mage cannot outrun their past…and that includes being a total nerd. Science is the key to the secrets of the world! How else is he supposed to satiate his hunger for knowledge? Besides, the more you know, the more you can gain through it. Very important for their merchant job. Plus, Biology and Chemistry are kinda needed if he’s gonna make potions himself, let alone with quality consistent enough to sell em. They have often turned out to be life saviors. And then there’s the physics aspect of Light (or in his case Dark) Magic. As for art, he‘s actually a very artistic person, but would never consider anything he made/did as art. No matter how obvious it is he lets glimpses of his true self slip though casting the magic. For all he cares, the only good art is expensive art that sells well. (Besides, art was always Rhymes‘ thing, after all.)

And then Deniz puts more personal value on science, but he’s also the type of person to see art in almost anything. Drawings? Art. Music? Art. Theater? Art. The ocean? Of course art, just look at it. Science? Jokes on you, science and art have always been one and the same to begin with. What is music but sound waves, what is the ocean but molecules put in motion by the force of accelerated masses; what is the reflection of light on a surface but a photo of a happiest moment, what is science but the art painted by the universe. Art is science and science is art and they both make up this confusing and impossible thing called life.

#another anon ask #original character do not steal [tm]

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buttermynutter · 2 years

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Making Beaches | 2 - And the Tide Rises

The mass of bubbles only sank more quickly as you watched, your tail arching increasingly desperately as you swam through the water, leaving your own wake of foam.

You had seen struggles like this before, usually from a creature stuck in a net or the jaws of another. However, its speed could only mean that it fell from above water.

Above water.

The phrase echoed in your head and it felt as if the ghosts of all your ancestors were screaming at you, but your instincts continued to propel you forward. You broke through the cloud of bubbles only to halt immediately, your eyes widening at the being before you, having expected only an animal, maybe even a crate.

However, no. It was a boy. You'd never seen one this close, so quiet. You supposed that you had been told that the water makes humans quiet.

Your mind spun in a frenzy, wondering if you really should save him - after all, it was your first time being so close to a human, much less touching one.

Goodness, what were you thinking, of course you had to. Even awake, what harm could a boy your size do? Snapping out of your stupor, you scooped him up in your arms, wondering what he looked like past all the bubbles.

You thought of only reaching the surface, swimming with as much urgency as you could, the smattering glare of sunlight above beckoning you. Although you didn't know much about people, the one thing you were sure of was that they didn't belong so deep in the ocean. You broke through the water with a large splash, dozens of ripples chasing away from you as if they were scared of the repercussions of your actions.

To your dismay, the boy remained limp, but at least you could finally see him clearly.

The shock of what you were doing was settling in, but you chose instead to focus on him. It wasn't as if you had to worry about anything with his eyes still closed.

The boy looked to be about your age, too young to be in his teenage years but most definitely nearing them. He was very, almost eerily pale compared to the other landwalkers you had seen. Everything about his features was circular, from his face to his upturned nose.

With bated breath, you removed your hand from its position supporting under his legs, not daring to touch his face, though you wanted to do nothing more but move the slick hair plastered to his forehead and cheeks.

Legs, you thought to yourself. How odd to go from mocking them with your siblings to trying your best to keep a pair afloat.

His mouth especially caught your attention, as his lips barely moved with his breathing. Perhaps it was lack of breathing?

No, you thought. If he wasn't breathing, he would be cold. That's probably one of the only things we share.

They were curled slightly upwards as if they were smiling at the secrets that were yet to pass through them. Even so, you sighed with relief at the knowledge that he was alive.

You scoured your surroundings while trying to spot the nearest area of land you could lay him on, still a bit unfamiliar with the terrain when surveying it above water, especially since it was quite close to a human town. Around the coast, it was best to stay below where you couldn't be seen.

As you looked around, your eye caught on what seemed to be a thin plank of wood bobbing along the ripples that were still spreading, another plank potruding from one end. You only watched it for a moment before swimming over, dragging the boy with you, his chin skimming the surface of the water.

The wood was smooth in your hands once you picked it up, and you decided it seemed like a human invention, figuring that it must've fallen with him.

Maybe some kind of decoration. Humans do love their little trinkets, you mused inwardly, struggling slightly to keep a hold on both the object and the boy. Even with just his head above water, he was still heavier than in the ocean. Craning your neck, you spotted just what you needed - there was a smattering of rocks only a small distance away, and you recognized it as a cave you sometimes frequented when searching for sea urchins.

People tended to avoid it because of the way the water would crash against the boulders; it made the area seem very dangerous, when in reality, the inside was completely tranquil. One simply had to slide from the top of the rocks to the inside. Or, in your case, swim between their bases.

Your progress was less than ideal as you swam your way over, though you didn't know what you expected with only your tail moving, one arm still linked under the boy and the other cradling the rod of wood.

Out of breath - and slightly disoriented from looking into the sunlight for so long - you finally reached the entrance of the cave before realizing that there wasn't a feasible way for you to get him over or under the stones.

Stumped, you swam back and forth in front of the rocks before finding a small space where the sides of the boulders touched, sized so perfectly for passing a person through that it was almost as if it was made for you.

You propelled your way through, finally able to relax since the journey was made easy by the lack of current. Nearly exhausted, you noted it was ironic that the half of your body that was suited for land was so drained when it was out of the water.

Without much thought, you heaved the boy onto one of the many flat stones that were scattered around the cave and laid the stick on the other, still quite unsure about the situation you had gotten yourself into.

It never occured to you what you would do now. You hadn't been told that humans were necessarily dangerous creatures, but there must be a reason that you were separated.

Thinking, you turned away from the boy and leaned your head back onto the rock he was on, settling on the shallow seafloor while surveying the cave. It had been a while since you had visited it, but as expected, nothing had changed.

The gentle slope of sand from the back of the area to its mouth was, of course, constant. The water level was significantly low, just deep enough to reach your waist as you sat. There was even an area where the water had receded for so long that there were land plants growing, though you preferred the vibrant colors of coral much more.

A thin curtain of vines covered the parts of the entrance that weren't already concealed by the boulders, just dense enough to act as a veil without preventing the light from streaming in like arrows, casting lazy shadows that danced across the water.

Contrasting the rocks guarding the cave, the stones within were flat and smooth, worn down by centuries of the gentle tide.

Perfect for laying someone on, you thought, slightly proud of yourself for what you had done. Truth be told, this was indefinitely one of the more exciting things that had happened to you for quite a while - everything had gone smoothly so far, and it wasn't as if humans weren't completely unaware of your existence. How much of a panic could the boy really be sent in if he caught sight of you?

The elders that would sit in a circle and point at their scars with an almost permanent scowl would always describe tall, burly men that wounded them, not a child - even if that child was human.

You sighed wistfully and turned around to face him, crossing your arms on the cool stone and laying your chin on them. Should you try to shake him awake? Take a look in his mouth for water? Did humans drown by swallowing too much, or could it be that his lungs were overflowing? What would you even do when he opened his eyes? Should you swim away before you had anything to explain? Could the thing that had put him in danger put you in danger, too?

Even with all your concerns, you decided that you had dedicated too much to this enigma to leave. You noticed his breaths were fortunately much more distinct than before, clearly audible above the waves lapping softly at the edges of the cave.

You hovered your hand above his face just as you did when you first brought him to the surface, this time less hesitantly. He had already slept for so long, so what were the chances he would come to now?

Very high, you thought to yourself with a wince - just as you decided to give his cheek a poke, his body was wracked with a gasp as he suddenly spasmed, sitting up almost mechanically with water trickling down from the side of his mouth, his heavy breaths rough and almost sputtered.

With eyes wide as oyster shells he looked over to you, scrambling backwards despite your yells of warning.

You flinched as he lost his balance, a splash quickly following as he fell back into a very familiar situation.

Humans.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

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#arcane viktor #viktor/reader #viktor x reader #viktor #viktor x you #viktor arcane #viktor league of legends #arcane #arcane x reader #arcane fic #arcane fanfic #arcane league of legends #netflix arcane #league of legends x you #league of legends x reader #league of legends #league of legends fanfic #viktor the machine herald

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fandomwriterstuff · 3 years

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“We’re a well-oiled team of military-grade kindergarteners,” his best friend, and the only other human on the ship who would understand what kindergarten was, continued chastising him and his companions. “The level of education and training among the three of you eclipses that of the entire rest of the members of this operation,” Annabeth continued, pointing her finger individually at himself, his pilot Jason, and his Chief Science Officer Nico. “You know, I’m not that surprised with you, Percy, but you are our XO so you should really be more responsible,” he winced at that, still feeling a bit of imposter syndrome at being the Commander of the USS Olympus. “Jason, shouldn’t you be piloting a ship or something?” At that, he saluted her and did an about face before scampering off to get into more trouble. “And you, you’re definitely way too responsible to have gotten mixed up with this Seaweed Brain and Sparky, so what’s in this tomfoolery for you?”

Nico, the only Neptunian on the ship, shifted his large black wings self consciously under the scrutiny of their Chief of Operations. Percy, as the Commander of the vessel, felt obligated to protect his usually stoic and well-behaved… acquaintance? Di Angelo was reserved, almost standoffish, and resented anyone who tried to stick up for him for some reason, but that didn’t stop Percy’s stupid seaweed brain from doing so. Hence the acquaintance. Percy was 99% sure Di Angelo didn’t consider him a friend. But he was nice to Percy and a great officer, so Percy considered him his friend.

“It was my fault, Annie,” he used her childhood nickname carefully, not knowing whether it would soften her up or piss her off more. He was hoping for softening. “It was just another one of Jason and my dumb ideas that we thought we would need a scientist to help with, and we didn’t want to piss off Leo by involving him in it. You know how he is about his engineer and warp cores and whatnot,” Percy held his hands up placatingly. “Leave Di Angelo out of this, he has sciencey things to do, isn’t that right?” Percy side-eyed his companion who (not surprisingly) rolled his eyes.

“I try not to get involved with human pranks or even Jovian mischief, but Officer Grace and First Officer Jackson were about to be meddling with my linguistics team. It isn’t my duty to tell my superiors what to do, so I sought out the next best option, supervising and ensuring no lasting damage was done to the physical or emotional state of the linguistics team. Now,” Here Percy held in a smirk as Di Angelo shrugged. “If they caused interference with the machinery of the ship, that wouldn’t be my expertise, so I allowed it to happen and-” Percy held back a laugh as the other male started speaking even faster to get everything out as Annabeth turned redder and redder. “I’m very sorry about that, truly, but I had no control over the situation.”

“No control over the situation? You three broke our LIT machine and now we have to go back to Earth as soon as we pass close enough to fix it. Soon enough nobody on this ship will understand each other,” the woman across from them crossed her arms and Percy shrunk back a bit.

“I want to make a joke about a machine being called “LIT,” but I feel like it isn’t the right time,” he muttered. “I know the Linguistic Inhibition Technology is important, but most of us have a working understanding of at least one other language, so it shouldn’t be a huge issue, right?”

“You know it works by connecting to the implant technology in our brains, so as it shuts down one by one, members of this ship from spaces stations and planets far and wide will have no clue why they suddenly can’t understand their XO, or their Chief Officer, or their best friend. So you better explain this. And you have to tell them that we’re going straight back to Earth to fix it because no nearby planets have the same brain implant tech as us. Damn Terrans and their brand name technology copyrights,” Annabeth grumbled and finally turned around to walk off.

“Hey, you’re Terran, too!” Percy shouted after her, but she just flipped him the bird.

“She can do that?” Di Angelo asked, side-eyeing Percy.

“Yeah, she’s been my best friend since we were twelve. As long as she doesn’t undermine my authority in front of everyone else, I don’t really care. I’ve done way worse to her,” Percy laughed at the other man’s frown. “Nothing bad, just pranks and things of that sort. Maybe when we get back to Earth we can show you where we’re from. You never set foot off of the training grounds while you were in school.”

“I would… like that,” Di Angelo paused and gave Percy a soft smile.

“Great,” Percy patted the younger male on the shoulder and made his way to the Command Center.

Percy sat himself down in the rotating chair and pressed on the comms device.

“Gooooood evening crew of the USS Olympus, this is your Commanding Officer, Percy Jackson, speaking,” he smiled at the engineering crew that was scuttling by, only for one of them to pause and look at him like he was speaking a different language… Whoops.

“There was a malfunction with the Linguistic Inhibition Technology and we will be returning to Earth henceforth to repair it before the damage becomes problematic. You may experience glitches with your implant technology and may revert to only understanding your first language and those you have studied extensively. If somebody looks like they’re not understanding what I’m saying right now, please escort them to the linguistics team in Science Bay 3. Carry on. Jackson, out.” He clicked again and the mic turned off.

He sighed, this would be one of his bigger mistakes. They were supposed to be exploring, but they couldn’t do that if nobody could speak to one another. One trip home couldn’t hurt him, and he was sure Annabeth would be happy to see her father.

It wasn’t until later after the Chief Officer meeting when someone finally asked Percy about Earth. For many of the non-humans on the ship, Earth was a place to get education and training to go out in the star fleet, and they never set foot outside the campus grounds, just like Di Angelo. But people had stopped asking him questions because Earth was basically “Space Australia,” as Annabeth had explained to him. The adaptability of humans and their need to pack bond astounded many and horrified many others. So, he stopped talking about home.

It was a new member of their ship, Novax (a Vulcan who was a part of Leo’s engineering team), who asked him about it first.

“I hear Earth is 75% made of pure salt water, and is filled with animals of all kinds. Do you have a favorite water animal?” he asked Percy excitedly.

“Definitely dolphins, though they aren’t underwater creatures. Like humans they need oxygen to breathe, and come up for air very often. My favorite actual underwater species would have to be a hippocampus from Neptune. I’ve always wanted to go and see one, but my human anatomy prevents me from going on-planet,” Percy explained and sipped on his hot tea.

“There are a million creatures in the ocean and you pick one that doesn’t breathe underwater?” Clarisse grunted. His Chief Tactical Officer was a brutish Martian, but very specialized in weapons. “And your second favorite isn’t even Terran.”

“What else do you know about the ‘ocean’?” Novax breathed, leaning forward.

“Eh, not much,” Percy shrugged.

“I’m not sure I heard that correctly, maybe my LIT unit isn’t functioning well,” another member of engineering asked, Nyssa. “Your planet is 75% water and you don’t even know what is inside it?”

“I could tell you about the people who spend their life learning about what survives in the deep depths,” Percy looked up, knowing he had all of the non-Terrans hooked on every word. Even Di Angelo had paused in his note taking and was staring wide-eyed at Percy. “But I don’t know if you’d want to know.”

“No we do!” Nyssa exclaimed. “There are people who dedicate their lives to a place that’s literally not navigable by humans, the main inhabitants of the planet?”

“Well as you said, most of the planet is water. Which means that coastal communities are filled with fisherman, whalers, swimmers, and more. I could tell you about some of those. I could also tell you about the scientists that spend years of their lives building bots that can’t even come close to withstanding the pressure at the deepest depths without imploding, or I could tell you about those that do come close,” he shrugged.

“What happened to those?”

“The video feed cut out after only seeing multiple rows of sharp, jagged teeth,” Annabeth answered, her sharp grin frightening those who hadn’t noticed her. Some forgot that she was Terran, because she was also half Minervan.

“I could tell you about whales. Beautiful, they come in black and white or grey or blue. But they can be as big as almost 100 feet long. That’s as long as most pirate ships. And they could fit about 400 average sized humans in their mouths. You don’t want to cross one of them. And they only live on the surface. The things that live in the deep,” Percy shuddered for effect. There were no Neptunians on the ship, so there were no natural water dwellers there, so all of his rapt listeners were shocked by this information. “There’s the anglerfish. They light up the dark with an antenna on top of their heads, and the light lures in prey. But it’s so dim elsewhere that you don’t see their big sharp teeth until you’re right up against them,” he murmured. “Giant squids are almost as big as whales but not nearly as peaceful and beautiful. They have eight arms and two tentacles that could wrap around any boat and crush it.”

“Ten limbs?” Nyssa whispered, clearly disturbed.

“Plus, the Portuguese Man o’ War,” Percy shrugged nonchalantly. “Also known as the floating terror. It’s like a big blue jellyfish that sits innocently on top of the water with huge blue tentacles that sit just underneath with a sting strong enough to kill a full grown human.”

“Don’t worry,” Annabeth grinned that shark grin again. “Percy won’t tell you about the stories of the old days. He doesn’t want to scare you.”

“That was the not scary part?” Novax gulped.

“Anyway, I just got notified that we’ll be back on Earth in a few days, so brace yourselves,” and with that, she stood and left them all staring after her. When the door clicked shut, Percy had all eyes back on him. He shrugged.

“Don’t look at me. I wasn’t going to tell you about the kr- nevermind,” he stood. “Di Angelo, with me,” the younger officer stood, back to business and was at Percy’s side again in a moment. “Clear your schedule, you’re spending shore leave with me, pal.”

“Great,” came the deadpan reply.

“Don’t sound so somber,” Percy rolled his eyes. “I’m just going to show you the beach and maybe a good gay bar. You need to let off some steam my dude.”

The other male reddened.

“That is so… That is…” he huffed. “Highly inappropriate.” he glared down at the ground and Percy felt a little bad, maybe the guy wasn’t out? But it was clear he had a preference for males. Oh well, that foot was already in Percy’s mouth.

“Fine. But I will be attending and I am a great dancer so you’re missing out,” he winked at the flustered officer and made his way back to his cabin. It would be an interesting few days.

He made a plan with Annabeth. Day one before shore leave, Percy would spread a rumor to Novax about the kraken. Bigger than a giant squid and meaner. Known to crush entire pirate ships in the olden days.

Day two, Annabeth would mention sirens to Nyssa. Hideous creatures that could lure you in with their voices and lead you to believe you were bringing your ship in to everything you ever wanted, when in reality you would crash your ships and then drown.

Day three, Percy would tell Leo about the Megalodon. A definitely very real shark so big you couldn’t even imagine it. Percy shuddered at that one.

“But, there are some good things,” Percy was speaking to Nico Di Angelo from his Commander chair, in ear shot of some of the participants of the conversation a few nights prior. “Mermaids, the siren’s nicer cousin species. And the lost city of Atlantis. Known to be a great and bountiful city, lost to the sea and cursed by the gods to be stuck down there forever. Some believe it still exists, but it’s within the Bermuda Triangle.”

“What, pray tell, is the Bermuda Triangle,” Clarisse sighed.

“Hard to explain. Ships just… go in… and they never come out,” Annabeth shrugged. “Planes go down. Ships wreck. People who go in don’t come back out, so we don’t know if Atlantis is really there or not.”

“That’s… terrifying,” Novax whispered as he walked by.

Percy was sure he had created a healthy fear of Earth’s oceans in his crew. And he meant to, because while he loved the beach and swimming, he did want to make them shy away from the depths. They wouldn’t do well to explore it.

#percy jackson #humans are weird #humans are space orcs #star trek #fusion #nicercy #percico #if you squint

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aquaquadrant · 2 years

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nature’s productions - chapter five

Rated T for: Animal death, strong language, blood/injury, medical/surgery scene

Summary: Three years after the disaster at Jurassic World, Claire Dearing and Owen Grady are contracted for a mission to save as many dinosaurs as possible from the impending eruption on Isla Nublar. But when they arrive, they experience an unexpected complication; six teenagers who were left stranded on the island when the park closed.

Surviving has left the campers scarred in more ways than one, and they’re pretty sure that their would-be rescuers have less than good intentions. But with a volcanic eruption at their heels, they’ll do whatever it takes to get a ride home- and save the dinosaurs while they’re at it, because that’s kind of their thing.

A/N: So, who’s excited about the Season 5 trailer? I’m not super on board with the direction the show took, but hey, I’m gonna trust that the writers can do a decent job of wrapping it up (plus, I’ve already got my own plans for how I want these kids’ stories to end, so I’m less invested in canon). Hope you enjoy, please reblog/comment if you do! - Aqua

(Read on A03 for full tags and previous chapters)

~*~

chapter five - difficulties of the theory

~*~

The Sinoceratops falls over the edge, and Claire can’t even scream.

Wind roars in her ears, her stomach lurching at the sudden drop. Only when Yaz and Kenji move, shifting their feet beneath themselves to perch on the dinosaur’s back, does she remember they’re supposed to be jumping off. Following their lead, she coils her legs under herself and leaps. It’s a clumsy maneuver, nothing like Yaz’s perfectly executed dive, but she manages not to hit any of the other Sinoceratopses on the way down, crashing into the ocean below.

The water is a shock- it’s colder than she’s expecting for the pacific, the water churning around her in a froth as the Sinoceratops herd struggles to stay afloat. Claire surfaces with a gasp, her eyes stinging with saltwater. The air is filled with splashing, dinosaur roars, and the volcano’s violent rumbling. It’s all she can do to steer clear of the Sinceratopses and their erratic thrashing as panic threatens to overwhelm her.

Ben’s voice breaks through the chaos. “Head’s up!”

Blinking water out of her eyes, Claire finally spots him. He’s treading water a few yards away from her, one hand pointing back up at the cliffs.

Claire follows his gaze and sees the wall of dark fog approaching the edge.

“Dive!” Brooklynn shouts from somewhere ahead of her.

Claire dives. She tries to swim in the direction of the campers, but she’s not used to seeing underwater and her vision is blurry. The movement of the water around her gives her some indication; if there’s a strong current, it’s probably from a dinosaur, and she makes sure to cut around it. She stays under as long as she can, but soon enough her lungs start burning and she has to hope she’s managed to put enough distance between herself and whatever that volcanic cloud is.

Her head breaks the surface, and she doesn’t have time to wonder if the air she’s desperately sucking into her lungs is deadly or not. Fortunately, the cloud seems to have dissipated. The surface of the water is stained a murky brownish-gray color, indicating it was probably made of ash. That’s one less thing to worry about, at least.

Another voice, Yaz’s, catches Claire’s attention. “Shore’s this way!”

The campers have already regrouped, Yaz leading the pack with an expert forward stroke. Owen is on his way to join them, with Franklin floundering behind him. The Sinoceratops herd is still lingering near the bottom of the cliff, bellowing panic and confusion as more dinosaurs splash down around them.

No one got gored by a Sinoceratops horn or crushed by a wayward kick, so Claire chalks that up as a victory.

It’s a thankfully brief swim to shore, the narrow, rocky beach located just around the bend of the cliffs, but Claire wouldn’t know it from how exhausted she is. Her legs are like jelly when she finally feels ground beneath her feet, almost falling as soon as she rises out of the water. Her wet clothes weigh on her like they’re made of lead, and she only takes a few steps into more shallow water before crumbling to her knees.

While Claire catches her breath, she glances around to check on the rest of the group. Owen is right behind her, likely weighed down by his bulky disguise, with Franklin slowly but surely doggy-paddling his way to shore. The campers are all out of the water, looking barely winded by their frantic and spontaneous triathlon (running, swimming, and dinosaur riding- that’s one for the books.)

Yaz didn’t go far, crouched on the shore right where the water meets the sand. She’s busy fiddling with her makeshift ankle brace, retying soggy vines that must’ve come loose during the swim. Sammy splashes through the water with a breathless laugh, swooping over to wrap Yaz in a hug. “I love it when everyone’s alive!” she cheers, peppering Yaz’s face with little kisses that make her grin.

Brooklynn has taken up the role of sentry, looking out over the beach as she absentmindedly wrings her hair out. This frees Ben up to go embrace Kenji, approaching him with quick, purposeful strides. Nearly crashing into him, Ben grabs the back of Kenji’s head to press their foreheads together, eyes closed as he mutters something Claire can’t hear. The gesture has so much intensity, it almost seems more meaningful than a kiss. Claire quickly averts her gaze, recalling how Ben dislikes being stared at.

Beside her, Owen has pulled off his helmet to better catch his breath. He glances over to meet her eyes, his mouth quirking up into a grin. “Been a while since basic training,” he concedes, pulling a face.

Maybe it’s the adrenaline high, maybe it’s sheer relief. Or maybe it’s the absurdity of the situation, to think that she cares to judge Owen for being so winded. Either way, Claire finds herself laughing- which is a bad idea, because she still hasn’t caught her breath and her abs are on fire.

But it feels good. There’s damp, salty hair in her mouth and gritty sand digging into her palms and her clothes are uncomfortably soggy, but it feels good to be alive.

Franklin has finally crawled out of the water, chest heaving for breath as he flops onto the sand. He splays out face-down, his clothes clinging to his frame and giving off the impression of a curiously modern scarecrow, washed ashore like driftwood.

“Franklin?” Claire calls. “You okay?”

Without lifting his head, Franklin gives a weak thumbs-up. Claire supposes that’s about as well as he could be expected to manage, considering his aversion to any kind of cardio. That week the elevator was out at the DPG almost made him quit.

Claire turns to Owen. “Did you know Wheatley was going to do this?”

“Nope.” Owen shakes his head, looking nonplussed. “I’m just following their lead.”

That makes Claire feel a little better, at least.

“Okay, everyone,” Brooklynn announces, turning to face them. The tension in her expression and tone of voice serves as an abrupt reminder that they’re not safe yet. “We need to get moving. It’s a five minute walk to the eastern dock, and I’d like to cut that in half. Boat could leave any minute.” Her gaze falls on Franklin’s prone form, one eyebrow quirking up before she gives Claire a questioning look. “You guys ready?”

Claire takes a deep breath and rises to her feet. “Yeah,” she says, ignoring Franklin’s groan of protest. She’ll drag him if she has to.

“Good.” Brooklynn nods. “Let’s go.”

Owen sighs good-naturedly, putting his helmet back on. “Are aye, captain.”

‘Captain, indeed,’ Claire thinks to herself, as she helps pull Franklin to his feet. The teens seem to work well as a group, but the more time Claire spends with them, the more certain she is that Brooklynn’s the one mainly calling the shots.

Though, come to think of it, she’d taken a lot of silent cues from Darius, hadn’t she? Maybe co-leaders, then. Which is interesting, considering they look like they might be the youngest of the bunch. When this is all over, Claire will have to get the whole story about their stranding, and how their little ‘herd’ (as they seem to refer to themselves) came to be.

But for now, Claire’s primary concern is that they all survive this eruption. “Come on, Franklin,” she says, pulling on his arm as the campers start running. “It’s just a little jogging, you can make it.”

Franklin makes an incredulous noise. “Clearly, you’ve never flunked gym class before,” he protests, but he starts running anyway.

~*~

Brooklynn’s not keeping count, but she’s pretty sure they don’t make it to the dock in half the time.

It can’t be helped, though. Yaz can only go so fast with her ankle as it is, and their escape was more taxing on Kenji than he’s letting on. Carrying her would end up making them both slower, so Yaz decides to tough it out, and Brooklynn lets her set the pace. They end up doing what Yaz disdainfully refers to as ‘Mom jogging’, which is only marginally faster than speed walking.

Even so, Franklin lags at the back of the group. All things considered, it’s a miracle he’s even on his feet. Claire is faring slightly better, and Owen seems to have recovered from the swim- Brooklynn can’t imagine how difficult it was with that clunky helmet and thick combat vest on.

There are more than a few ways to reach the eastern dock and Ben knows them all, leading them down the fastest route. Over the years, the entire herd has developed a fairly good sense of direction on the island, and have a general understanding of where the major landmarks are in relation to each other. But when it comes to specific paths, no one can beat Ben, who used to memorize evacuation plans for fun.

They don’t speak as they run, save for an occasional warning about a well-hidden hole in the ground or fallen branch in their path. The air is otherwise filled with nothing but their heavy breathing and the thundering of the volcano, which is starting to spew rocks and magma. It’s a short journey, but it feels like hours to Brooklynn, whose worries grow stronger with every passing second.

If they reach the dock and the boat is gone, they’re ruined. There isn’t an access hatch to the underground tunnels close enough for them to reach before the volcano fully erupts. They’ll be toast, and Darius will be on his own. He can take care of himself, Brooklynn knows, but his position on that ship is so precarious- Wheatley doesn’t intend to spare him, she knew it the moment that lie left his mouth.

And even if Darius does miraculously survive, their loss will destroy him. He’ll blame himself, Brooklynn’s certain of it, because he’s a noble-hearted dummy who would lay his life down for any of them in a heartbeat, which is one of those stupidly loveable traits of his that she really hates in moments like these. And if she dies before she gets to tell him that, she’ll haunt Wheatley until he dies, and then haunt his ghost.

… somehow.

In any case, they make it to the eastern dock without issue and in decent- even if not ideal- time. The good news is that the boat is still there. The bad news is that the docks are completely deserted, and the boat is pulling up anchor. To top it all off, the volcano choses this specific moment to start shooting flaming rocks into the air, transforming the beach into a war zone.

By unspoken agreement, the group turns their ‘Mom jogging’ into ‘Olympic sprinting.’

As they get closer, Brooklynn realizes that the docks aren’t, in fact, completely deserted; there’s a lone truck still parked. It strikes her as incredibly odd that someone would abandon it - unless, of course, it was done on purpose. And with that thought, everything clicks into place.

“Head for that truck!” she shouts, hoping everyone can hear her above the noise.

They make a mad dash for the truck. The ground shudders beneath their feet, giant rocks screaming through the air and crashing down around them. One rock lands dangerously close to them- close enough that Brooklynn can feel the rush of wind from it- and someone screams.

Glancing over her shoulder, Brooklynn sees that Franklin’s been thrown to the ground. Kenji’s already doubled back to help him up, waving Claire off when she tries to help them.

“Keep going!” he shouts, pulling a dazed, but still conscious, Franklin to his feet.

Trusting that Kenji can get Franklin to the truck in time, Brooklynn turns away. “Owen!” she shouts, falling into step beside him. “You drive, everyone else get in the back!” Owen’s wearing a disguise, so he’s less likely to be recognized than Claire. And there are no windows in the back of the truck, so the rest of them should be perfectly hidden. Darius really thought of everything- not that Brooklynn’s surprised.

Owen doesn’t reply, but it’s clear he understood her as he veers off towards the front of the truck. Ben has already reached it, pulling aside the canvas flaps that make up the back doors, waving the rest of them in. Brooklynn hardly breaks stride as she hops into the truck, immediately peering through the windshield to check on the boat.

Her heart jolts; the boat is starting to pull away from the dock.

“I see it,” Owen says before she can warn him, climbing into the driver’s seat. The key is sitting in the ignition- Darius’s doing, no doubt. High-pitched revving rings out as Owen turns the ignition on, calling over his shoulder, “Tell them to hurry!”

Brooklynn turns back around just as Sammy jumps into the truck. She immediately goes to help Yaz climb up, who’s definitely favoring her ankle a bit, her expression pinched. Claire follows a few seconds later, out of breath but looking none the worse for wear. Kenji and Franklin are moving again, but the delay cost them quite a bit of ground. Brooklynn eyes the distance they have left to run and the distance between the truck and the boat, making a decision.

“Start driving!” Brooklynn tells Owen. A truck this big needs time to accelerate, and she’s confident Kenji can catch up.

Owen slams on the gas, and the truck jerks forward.

Brooklynn pushes through to the back of the truck, poking her head through the flaps. Ben’s perched on the bumper, holding on with one hand while the other is extended out. Kenji is gaining on them- and probably could have reached them by now, if he didn’t have one hand around Franklin’s arm.

“Come on!” Brooklynn shouts, grabbing Ben’s other arm to provide him extra stability.

Kenji and Franklin gradually draw closer. The volcano is roaring now, fire raining down around them, and somewhere in the chaos Brooklynn hears the ship’s horn blare. Kenji stretches his hand forward to grab Ben’s- together, he and Brooklynn pull Kenji into the truck. Franklin’s right behind him, struggling to keep pace as the truck starts to gain speed.

Kenji reaches out with his slightly longer arms and snags Franklin’s hand, pulling him forward enough for Ben to grab the other. Together, they haul him bodily into the truck-

Just in time for it to fly off the dock.

They land with a heavy thud on a hard surface- Brooklynn quickly glances up front to see they’re on a ramp that’s attached to the back of the ship- and the tires spin in the shallow layer of water, scrambling for traction. The rear tires are hanging off the ramp, in the water, and Brooklynn is confronted by the very real possibility of them sliding backwards into the ocean. Her legs tense beneath her, preparing to jump.

The engine is screaming, and Owen changes gears before slamming onto the gas. It’s just enough of a boost to jump them forward, back tires finally passing over the ramp and shooting them into the ship’s hold. A piercing screech fills the air as Owen just as quickly slams on the breaks, stopping them before they can crash into another parked truck.

Then there’s silence.

For a moment, Brooklynn doesn’t dare move, huddled next to Ben as they all catch their breath. She glances around to make sure their cover is intact- the canvas flaps have fallen shut, hiding them from view, but there are still the front windows to worry about. She quickly signs for the others to ‘lay low’, which is hopefully an obvious enough gesture for Claire and Franklin to pick up on, as she takes stock of the situation.

Everyone’s here. They made it on the boat- and just in the nick of time, because the ramp is starting to retract, hydraulics groaning over the sounds of the boat’s churning engine. Beneath it all is the sound of waves, and it finally sinks in.

They’re leaving the island. They’re really, truly leaving the island.

Brooklynn exhales slowly, trying to gather herself. They aren’t safe yet. Rolling onto her hands and knees, she carefully crawls towards the front of the truck, peeking her head up over Owen’s shoulder, just enough to see out the windows.

The hold is enormous, and filled with other assorted trucks, trailers, and giant shipping containers. There are a few people around- ship crew and mercenaries alike, if she had to guess based on their outfits- but no one’s looking their way. They’re all staring out the back of the ship, standing still and silent. It’s an unnerving kind of silence, one that makes Brooklynn want to investigate.

Quietly, she slinks back and crawls to the other end of the truck, parting one of the flaps just enough for her to peek her eye through. After finding no one in their line of sight, she draws the flap back a little more, so she can get a clearer image.

The ship’s hold is still wide open, giving them a full view of the island. At the highest point of the mountains is the volcano, breathing thick smoke that flashes with light as flames roar out of its depths. It’s immediately obvious to Brooklynn that what they witnessed before was just a preview. This is the eruption proper; deafening and violent and terrible, ripping apart the mountains themselves and cloaking the island in ash and magma.

Brooklynn’s gaze drifts away from the volcano, and her breath catches.

There’s a dinosaur running down the dock; a juvenile Brachiosaurus. She can hear its cries from here, a faint call that can’t quite be considered a roar- not yet, not at this size. It runs to the edge of the dock and stops, its whip-like tail lashing about as it cranes its head back to wail.

She’s instantly reminded of a baby Brachiosaurus that they once helped reunite with its herd, what seems like a lifetime ago. A helpless little thing no taller than they were, lost and alone. Brooklynn doesn’t know how fast the Brachiosauruses age. She doesn’t know if this could be the same one. It shouldn’t matter either way, and yet-

Darius would know how old it is, she thinks absently, even as her eyes sting.

The eruption rolls over the island like a blanket. The Brachiosaurus cries out and rises onto its hind legs, slender neck arching up, straining towards the sky as it’s engulfed. Through the smoke she sees its silhouette for a brief moment, backlit by firelight, before the entire dock is overtaken by ash, and the cries stop.

With a mechanical groan, the doors to the ship’s hold start to roll shut like a set of massive jaws. The sunlight pouring into the hold begins to splinter as the island shrinks from view. Brooklynn doesn’t look away, taking in as much detail as she can with her one functional eye until the doors finally close.

Then she lets the curtain fall shut.

~*~

“Alright, I’m just about ready.”

Zia’s voice is brisk as she moves around the trailer, rummaging through her backpack and the other supplies as she fills a metal tray with the appropriate materials. Darius gives a brief nod of acknowledgement, but truthfully, he’s not paying that much attention. The majority of his focus is on Blue.

So far, the raptor hasn’t made any attempt to break free of her restraints. Her sides rise and fall with rapid breaths, a constant pulse beneath Darius’s blood-stained hands, and her eyes are closed. Darius can’t help but feel guilty over her condition. Maybe Wheatley would’ve captured her without their help, maybe he wouldn’t have. Maybe she would’ve died in the eruption if they hadn’t, or maybe she would’ve been fine. He has no way of knowing how things would’ve turned out, but right now he knows that Blue is in pain, and it’s at least partially his fault.

“Good thing I brought my own instruments,” Zia huffs, “because their first aid kit is a joke.” She sets the tray onto the table, filled with shiny instruments, a pair of latex gloves, a water bottle, a stack of gauze, and a roll of duct tape. “They don’t even have pins for disembowelment. And they came to an island full of dinosaurs.”

Darius cracks a grin; it’s gratifying that someone else is offended by this poorly planned out mission. Whoever’s in charge of this operation obviously has access to insane resources, so surely they could’ve come a little more prepared.

Zia pulls on the gloves with a snap. “Okay, let me see,” she says, sliding next to Darius.

He steps aside, wiping his hands off on his pants. Carefully, Zia peels back the blood-soaked fabric; as soon as she does, a spurt of blood shoots into the air. She quickly covers the wound back up, her other hand reaching for a hemostat.

“Gonna have to clamp it for now,” she mutters, maneuvering the hemostat open and slipping it under the fabric.

There’s a click as the hemostat closes, and Blue lets out a pained cry, her amber eyes flying open.

Darius jolts. “Sh- she can- she can feel th- that?” he asks, brows creasing with concern.

“She’s only partially sedated,” Zia explains, lifting all the fabric off the wound and casting it aside. “Didn’t let them give her another dose. I don’t have any anesthesia equipment here, I can’t monitor her breathing and oxygen levels.” She grabs another instrument and a small foil package, tearing it open to deposit a scalpel blade onto the tray. “Putting her under would risk her never waking up. And at least this way, I’ll know right away if she’s tanking.”

Darius clicks his tongue sympathetically, moving to the other side of the table to pet Blue’s neck. He understands Zia’s reasoning, but he’d hate to be conscious through a surgery like this.

Blue must be too preoccupied to care about his presence, because she doesn’t react to his touch aside from a slight twitch of the muscles beneath his hand, her gaze flicking over to watch him. It’s a little surreal, to be so close. Blue’s fully restrained and wearing a muzzle, but part of Darius is still anticipating getting his fingers bitten off.

“I’m gonna have to open this wound up a little bit,” Zia warns, clicking the scalpel blade onto its handle. “Can you distract her, tap on her head?”

Darius obliges, patting firmly on the top of Blue’s skull. The raptor squints her eyes shut, warbling a protest through her closed jaws. It must be pretty effective, because when Zia presses the scalpel against Blue’s skin, her shriek is almost an after-thought.

Zia only cuts along an inch of skin on either side of the wound before setting the scalpel down. “There we go, good girl…” She picks up an instrument that reminds Darius of his mom’s eyelash curler, except it’s got strange, teeth-like prongs on either end. Its use quickly becomes apparent, though, as she places it into the incision and spreads it open, pushing the skin further apart.

Blue hisses, straining against her bonds, but grows still again as Darius pats her head with renewed force. He’s watching her out of the corner of his eye, but most of his focus is on Zia, watching intently. With a probe in one hand and forceps in the other, she starts examining the wound.

“I know, I know, girl,” Zia murmurs, as Blue protests again. “Okay, I can see the bullet. It didn’t go very deep- must’ve lost a lot of momentum getting through this thick skin of hers. Lots of muscle and fascia layers in this area, too.” She moves the probe a little deeper. “Didn’t penetrate her abdominal cavity, thank god.”

Zia goes silent as she maneuvers the forceps into the wound, her gaze sharp with concentration. Curling her wrist, she closes the forceps and carefully withdraws them, revealing a bullet pinched between its teeth. She drops the bullet onto the tray with a metallic clink.

Darius exhales slowly, relief sweeping through him. ‘Good job,’ he signs by habit. Then he remembers she doesn’t know what that means. “Uh, good j- j- job,” he tells her.

The corner of Zia’s mouth pulls up in a wry smile. “Don’t thank me yet,” she warns him, setting the instruments down and picking up a pack of thread. “I’ve still got to tie off this artery and bandage it, and then we’ll be done.”

Darius gives her a confused look. “Are y- y- you gonna um, you kn- know…” Unable to get the word out, he settles for miming a sewing motion, his shaky fingers pinched around an imaginary needle.

Luckily, Zia understands his meaning. “No, any wound caused by a projectile is considered contaminated, and we generally don’t suture contaminated wounds,” she explains as she opens the suture pack. “Especially since she got a lot of dirt in it, and nothing here is sterile. Sealing it up makes a greenhouse for bacteria.” Grabbing another hemostat, she clips the end of the thread between its teeth. “At this point, she’s almost guaranteed to get an infection anyways, but lots of the nasty ones need a strictly anaerobic environment to grow, so at least we can prevent those.”

Darius hums with interest. Idly, he wonders if Brooklynn knows about that, too. Back when Kenji was hurt, they didn’t have anything resembling a needle and thread, so suturing his wounds hadn’t even been an option. But maybe that was a blessing in disguise. Maybe if they’d had the ability, they would’ve tried to sew Kenji’s wounds up and inadvertently made things worse.

Zia starts looping the thread around the artery, just above where the other hemostat is clamping it shut. “There’s really only two major arteries that run over the ventral midline here, the epigastrics. And of course the bullet tore through one of them. But it could always be worse. Almost anywhere on the head would’ve been fatal, there’s not nearly as much protection there.”

She ties off the knot, grabbing a pair of scissors and snipping the rest of the thread away. “This’ll have to be sutured back together once I’ve got the right material for it,” she sighs, unclamping the hemostat. “Hopefully they’re taking us somewhere with a proper medical facility.” She puts the instruments aside and grabs the water bottle from the tray. “This is what we call a poor man’s irrigation,” she says, unscrewing the cap and slowly pouring the water over the wound.

Blue is not a fan of that. She lets out a high-pitched wine from behind her muzzle, her eyes tearing up. Darius’s heart pangs with sympathy, and he gently strokes her neck, trying to soothe her.

“Alright girl, I know, I’m sorry.” After emptying the bottle, Zia sets it aside and lifts a square of gauze from the pile, dabbing lightly at the wound to dry the excess bloody water. “We’re almost done.” With fresh gauze, she starts to bandage the wound, using thin strips of the duct tape to hold it all in place.

By the time she’s finished, Blue’s calmed down a bit, her breathing more level- though it still seems faster than it ought to be. Zia peels her gloves off and listens to Blue’s chest with her stethoscope. She doesn’t say anything, but Darius can see by her expression it’s not an ideal heart rate. Using the clean end of her probe, Zia slips it through the muzzle and pushes Blue’s lip up. Even to Darius’s untrained eye, Blue’s gums are far paler than any living animal’s should be.

“Damn,” Zia mutters, letting Blue’s lip fall back down. “She lost a lot of blood, but I don’t have any fluids to give her. She seems otherwise healthy, so hopefully she can recover fast enough. We’ll have to wait and see.”

She gathers up all the materials and clears them off the table, piling them in the corner of the trailer. And then she turns to Darius, a sudden change in demeanor coming over her as she crosses her arms.

“Now, you need to explain what’s going on,” she tells him firmly.

Darius isn’t surprised. He knew she’d want answers as soon as Blue was taken care of. “The others a- are coming. I left a t- tr- truck for them, on uh… o- on the d- dock, to s- sneak onboard.”

“What?” Zia blinks, taken aback. “When did you come up with that plan?”

Darius makes a noncommittal noise. “Ten m- minutes ago? But they’ll- um, they’ll kn- know what to d- do.”

Zia knits her brows; he can almost see her putting it all together in her head. “So, when your friends took off into the jungle…?”

“T- tactical retreat,” Darius explains. “Stayed to- to help Owen, th- then meet up with… C- Claire and the uh, the others.”

“Shit.” Zia’s eyebrows shoot up, her arms falling by her sides. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you guys knew Wheatley was going to backstab us.”

Darius gives her a sheepish smile, shoulders jerking up in a shrug. “Had a uh, a- a feeling. Not the… f- f- first time.”

Zia studies him for a moment, as if reassessing. “You guys could’ve just stuck with Wheatley, and he might’ve taken you home. You risked your own safety to help us.”

“Don’t uh, d- don’t th- thank me yet,” Darius says with a grin. They’re still far from being out of the woods.

Zia has more questions, he can see it in her eyes, but she hesitates. Her expression is contemplative, and the question she asks isn’t one he expected. “How’d you know who to trust?” she asks quietly.

Darius blinks. “Lucky guess?”

Zia huffs a small laugh at that, shaking her head incredulously. “There are a lot of words I’d use to describe you and your friends, Darius,” she says, “but lucky isn’t one of them.”

Before Darius can reply, the ship’s horn suddenly blares through the air. Darius braces himself against the table as the ground lurches beneath them, and when he looks up to meet Zia’s gaze, she’s had the same realization as him, her eyes wide.

“We’re moving,” she murmurs, her voice tight with urgency.

Darius’s heart is racing. This is it- they’re finally leaving the island. And he has no idea if his herd made it onboard or not. He trusts their capabilities, more than anyone in the world, but their plan had so many unknowns. What if Darius made the wrong call by splitting them up? What if deciding to help out Claire’s group resulted in none of them making it? What if-

“I’ll stay with Blue,” Zia says, jerking her head at the doors. “Go get our friends.”

Darius gives her an appreciative look. ‘Go get them,’ she’d said. Not ‘Go see if they made it.’ He likes that; it’s a good reminder to have faith in his herd. To let himself hope that, after three years of devastating struggle and sorrow, everything might actually be okay. He supposes he can try.

With a final pat on Blue’s head, Darius slips out of the trailer.

~*~

“Okay, I think we’re clear.”

Owen breathes a sigh of relief. After several minutes of dedicated listening, Brooklynn has determined they’re finally safe to discuss their next move. He’d offered to keep watch, but she’d insisted it’d be suspicious for him to be seen just sitting in the front of a parked truck. The disguise had only ensured that no one who saw him drive into the hold would have a reason to be suspicious. If someone approaches him and starts asking questions, his cover could quickly be blown.

So, as soon as the coast was clear, he’d ducked into the back, and they’d waited in silence until no further chatter could be heard in their immediate vicinity. The truck’s a little more cramped now, with all eight of them packed in, and Owen’s pulled off his helmet so he can see everyone’s faces better in the dim lighting.

They all seem to have made it out relatively unscathed. Franklin has a few scapes from nearly getting blown up, but fortunately, no injuries. He’s sitting on the bench with his knees tucked to his chest, probably in shock. Somehow, through all this, he didn’t lose his glasses- though there’s a crack in the right lens that wasn’t there before.

The rest of the kids seem fine. They’re tense, of course, but also focused. Alert. Owen might’ve detected something like sorrow in their expressions, as they watched the ship sail away from the island, but it was covered up quickly. If they have any conflicting feelings about leaving, they’re keeping it to themselves.

Claire’s anxious. She’s re-tied her ponytail no less than three times since they’ve been on the ship, trying in vain to tame curls that are stiff with dried sweat and sea water. She looks exhausted in a way Owen hasn’t seen since those first few weeks after Jurassic World.

He can hardly blame her. They might’ve escaped the eruption, but they’re far from being out of the woods. This is a ship filled with dinosaurs and mercenaries, traveling to an unknown destination for an unknown length of time. If they’re discovered, they’ll probably be killed. It’s not an ideal situation, to say the least.

“So what do we do now?” Claire asks, still keeping her voice soft out of caution. “Should we try to find Zia and Darius?”

Brooklynn shakes her head. “No, he’ll find us. We should stay put, he’ll know what to look for.”

“How can you be sure?” Owen asks, trying to imagine how one kid will be able to find them on this massive ship.

Brooklynn gives him a funny look. “Because he left the truck for us in the first place?”

“Oh.” Owen blinks. Well, that certainly makes a lot of sense.

Kenji, who’s moved to sit beside Ben, huffs a quiet laugh. “C’mon, you didn’t think we’d be lucky enough for an unattended yet perfectly usable truck to just be waiting for us, did you?”

Owen gives a rueful grin. “To be honest, I didn’t think to question it at the time. You know, with the volcano erupting and all.”

Kenji seems amused by that. But before he can reply, Brooklynn suddenly holds a finger to her lips in a simple gesture that Owen understands to mean ‘quiet.’ He strains to listen for whatever she’s heard, but aside from the constant low rumble of the ship’s engines and the occasional shriek from a caged dinosaur, he can’t make anything out-

Darius pokes his head through the flaps.

The other teens are on him in a heartbeat, pulling him into the truck- and into a massive group hug, all tangled limbs and soft laughs. Franklin’s clutching his chest as if he’s had a mini heart attack, while Claire’s clapped her hands over her mouth to muffle her surprise. After a few moments, the teens ease back, leaving only Brooklynn still fiercely clinging to Darius. It takes her a couple seconds to realize this, and she quickly pulls away, an unmistakable flush to her cheeks.

Darius is blushing too, but he’s also beaming as his gaze sweeps over their faces, taking them all in. “You all m- m- made it,” he says, his relief evident.

“Thanks to you guys,” Owen replies, clapping him on the shoulder. “That was some quick thinking, kid.”

“Thank god,” Claire breathes, leaning forward to wrap Darius in another hug- he seems taken aback, but he tolerates it well enough. “Where’s Zia? Is Blue alright?”

Darius nods. “Safe,” he says in response to both questions. “I’ll- I’ll uh, I’ll take y- you to th- them.”

Owen exhales slowly, a huge weight dropping off his shoulders. It’d been easy to forget about Blue’s condition, in all the chaos, but it’s good to hear she’s okay. Especially because he’s just now noticing the dried blood stains on Darius’s clothes, which he can only assume came from Blue. Everything happened so fast, he wasn’t sure how serious her injury was.

Darius peeks out through the flaps to make sure they’re alone before he slips out of the truck, and the other teens follow. Owen puts his helmet back on, nudging Franklin and Claire in front of him so he’s the last one out. It’s probably best for him to bring up the rear, in case anyone happens to spot them from behind. His disguise might throw off any suspicions, or at least buy them some time.

Between Ben’s scouting and Brooklynn’s intense listening, Darius carefully leads them through the ship, darting from cover to cover. It’s unnerving, passing by containers that are filled with dinosaurs. Their roaring and bellowing echoes strangely against the metal walls, and Owen prays that the cages will hold. The last thing they need is a dinosaur loose on a boat in the middle of the ocean.

Most of the crew seems to be elsewhere, perhaps in the upper levels of the ship, because there are only a couple patrols they have to avoid. It’s an easy enough task, since the mercenaries aren’t bothering to be quiet. They’re likely just doing security sweeps of the containers. After all, they have no reason to suspect there are enemies aboard.

Finally, Darius brings them to a stop in front of a large trailer, motioning them to enter. Owen stands guard as everyone slips inside, but fortunately, there’s no one nearby to bother them. Once everyone’s in, he takes a final look around before following.

This trailer is bigger than the truck, at least, with enough room for them all to comfortably stand. The teens have fanned back out into their usual formation, while Franklin’s retreated to a corner. A makeshift table sits in the center of the trailer, and lying on top is Blue. The raptor is fully restrained and muzzled, and there’s a bandage on her side, which implies Zia’s already treated her. But she’s breathing faster than she should be, and Zia’s expression is tense as she talks with Claire in hushed tones.

“-glad you all made it,” Zia finishes, before her gaze cuts over to Owen.

“Hey,” Owen greets her, rushing over to the table. Up close, he can see Blue is still conscious, which is a relief and yet makes him wince; he can tell she’s in pain. He gently strokes her head, shushing her when she startles- before he thinks to pull his helmet off, setting it on the table. Blue recognizes him then, stilling beneath his hand and making a low crooning sound.

Owen’s heart tightens. “How’s she doing?” he asks.

Zia makes a noncommittal noise. “I took the bullet out and patched her up, but she lost a lot of blood. I was hoping she’d have a regenerative response by now, but her body must be too stressed out. Don’t have any IV fluids to give her, she needs a blood transfusion. Ideally it’d be from another raptor, but you know.” She folds her arms, shrugging. “Another carnivore should be close enough, with two or three fingers- no more than three.”

Darius, who’s been watching silently, steps forward and puts a hand up. “I s- s- saw them f- fly- ing the uh- the T-Rex in, b- by um…” He frowns, before twirling his finger around in a spinning motion, which Brooklynn interprets as, “Helicopter.”

“Also,” Kenji chimes in, “we’re pretty sure they have a Baryonyx somewhere, too.” At Darius’s questioning look, he adds, “We ran into Chaos, Limbo wasn’t with her.”

Darius raises his eyebrows, clearly understanding something Owen hasn’t. Then he rubs his chin, brows creased together in thought, before seeming to come to a decision.

“T-Rex,” he tells Zia solemnly.

Before anyone can question this, Sammy nods. “These transports are pretty small, and the T-Rex will have less room to move ‘round than a Baryonyx,” she explains, seeming to have picked up Darius’s train of thought. “Y’know, if she happens to not be fully sedated.”

“Right. Okay.” Zia nods slowly. “We’ll… go with the T-Rex.”

“You should stay with Blue,” Owen interjects. “Just in case she starts going downhill.” He looks over at Claire, slightly imploring. “We can get the blood.”

It’ll probably be at least a two-person job, and Owen won’t have these kids in any more danger if he can help it. Luckily, Claire seems to have realized where his mind is at, and shares the same opinion, because she gives Zia a reassuring nod.

Zia eyes them uncertainly. “Do either of you know how to find a vein?”

“I do!” Claire says quickly. “I did a blood drive for the Red Cross.”

Zia blinks in surprise. “Oh, great. Uh, you’ll want to go for the external jugular though. It’s a really big, obvious vein on the neck,” she explains, pointing it out on her own neck. “On an animal that size, you can’t miss it.”

“Okay,” Owen says, “I’ll go with Claire to get the blood. The rest of you stay here with Zia.”

Franklin has no objections to that, looking greatly relieved. But as Owen glances over at the teens, he realizes they’ve been having their own silent conversation in that sign language of theirs. They almost seem surprised that Owen’s addressing them, exchanging glances with each other until Brooklynn clears her throat.

“We’re going back to the truck,” Brooklynn tells him briskly. “Too risky hanging around here in a big group. Someone might come check on Blue, and we’re obviously not part of the crew.” She gestures to her outfit as an example, in case their young age wouldn’t be enough of a tip-off.

It’s a solid point, though, one that Owen hadn’t considered. “Good call,” he praises them. “Lay low, and we’ll come find you after we get the transfusion done, okay?”

“Actually,” Darius speaks up, giving an apologetic smile. “I- I’ve got a- a uh, a p- plan.”

Owen pauses, taken aback. “What kind of plan?” he asks, knitting his brows together.

“We can’t let this ship reach land,” Brooklynn says, subtly taking over for Darius. “Because when something goes wrong- and something always goes wrong- the dinosaurs will escape. But this time, they’ll be running loose on the mainland, and there’s no telling how many people could get hurt.”

Owen gives a hesitant nod; he hasn’t thought about the long-term plan yet, but they’re not wrong about that being a possibility. “What are you going to do?” he asks, trying not to let his confusion be taken as condescension.

He might not be successful, because Brooklynn lifts her chin defiantly. “We’re taking this ship.”

For a moment, Owen isn’t sure he’s understood her correctly. “Wh- are you crazy?” he demands, having to whisper to keep his voice down. “There must be at least a hundred mercenaries on this ship. We should stay hidden and sneak away when the ship docks, contact the authorities.”

The teens don’t seem deterred in the slightest. “You’re more than welcome to do that,” Brooklynn says evenly. “But we can’t take that chance. We have to stop them right here, right now.”

Owen shakes his head. “No, you guys, this is way too dangerous.” He steps forward, reaching to put a hand on Darius’s shoulder. “C’mon, you can’t just-”

Ben steps in front of him. “Are you going to stop us?” he asks, his voice dangerously calm.

Owen stops short, sensing the abrupt change in the room. Ben stares up at him, without a single hint of fear or hesitation in his expression. And all of a sudden, Owen sees the kid who pushed a Carnotaurus off a cliff.

The other teens are watching silently, every muscle in their bodies tense. There’s no friendliness or childlike innocence in those steely-eyed gazes, not anymore. They look every bit like the kids who have fought against dinosaurs, tooth and claw, to survive on a deserted island for three years. And right now. they’re looking at Owen like he’s a threat. He doesn’t doubt for one second that they’d deal with him accordingly, if he gives them a reason to.

“… no,” Owen finally says, taking a deliberate step back. He talks quietly, his hands held up in a placating gesture as he attempts to diffuse the situation. “I won’t try to stop you. Just please, think this through.”

“We already have,” Brooklynn says coldly, putting a hand on Ben’s shoulder as if to call him off. “We can take care of ourselves, you know. And we’re not going to just sit by and let Wheatley put a whole continent at risk.”

“I understand,” Owen tries to insist, “but if you’d just wait, we could help you. We’ll figure something out-”

“No,” Darius says, his voice suddenly the firmest Owen’s ever heard.

The way Darius is regarding Owen now isn’t hostile, not exactly. But somehow, it’s worse than that. It’s like Darius has completely written him off. Like there’s some test he’s failed, and now Darius wants nothing more to do with him. It’s an odd expression to see on the face of a teenager.

Brooklynn glances over at him, and understanding passes between them. “Stay here and help Zia with Blue,” she tells Owen, in a tone that leaves no room for argument. “Look out for each other, and don’t get caught. We’ll take care of the rest.”

Without another word, the teens file out of the trailer, their footsteps swift and silent. For a brief moment, no one speaks, the air filled only with Blue’s heavy panting and the creaking of the ship around them as it sways in the ocean.

“What was that about?” Zia breathes, voicing Owen’s thoughts exactly.

Claire winces. “They’ve had… bad experiences before, with people who were supposed to be rescuing them,” she explains.

Owen’s eyebrows shoot up. “You mean we aren’t the first ones?” he asks incredulously.

“Yeah,” Claire says, frowning. “I guess there were some trophy hunters? And Dr. Wu came back, too, six months after the park closed.” She wraps her arms around herself, chewing her lip. “Both times, they thought they’d be rescued. And both times, they ended up being betrayed. Their ability to trust has been… damaged, and I think we might’ve crossed a line.”

Owen exhales slowly, running a hand through his hair. “Now I get how they caught onto Wheatley so fast. But they can’t seriously think they can take over this whole ship on their own-”

“Hey,” Zia cuts in, her voice short as she rummages through her backpack. “Trust them. They survived for three years on that island, they aren’t going to do anything to get themselves killed. And right now, Blue needs you.” She straightens up and presses something into his hands- a plastic fluid bag, with a line that’s capped by a thick needle. “We can figure out how to help the kids once she’s stable, alright?”

“Right, you’re right,” Owen relents, taking the bag from her. “Sorry.”

One problem at a time. He can’t control what those kids do, they’ve made that abundantly clear. But he can make a difference for Blue. Giving the raptor a final pat, he turns and passes the fluid bag to Claire, who takes it with no small amount of trepidation- as if it’s only just now sunk in that she agreed to go draw blood from a giant, man-eating dinosaur. Sedated or not, it’s a daunting prospect. He grins at her in what he hopes is an encouraging way before putting his helmet back on.

“C’mon, let’s go find that T-Rex.”

~*~

#jurassic world camp cretaceous #jurassic world fallen kingdom #jwcc #camp cretaceous #my writing

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witcher-and-his-bard-archive · 3 years

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Stranded and Geraskier? 🧜‍♂️

Pairing: Geralt x Jaskier Warning(s): non-human anatomy, tentacles (in every possible way), choking/breathplay Rating: explicit

Summary: While exploring a cave, Jaskier gets trapped by the tide, but the inhabitant is more than happy to find a way to help him pass the time.

I took this idea and ran with it! Thank you for the opportunity to write octo!Geralt, I've been wanting to for a while now <3

There is a reason they say the northern end of the beach is off-limits, but Jaskier has always been inquisitive and rather terrible at following instructions, so it's no surprise that he ends up there anyway. He's been staying on the coast for a while now and while he always loves coming back, he's feeling a little restless lately. So he's taken to taking strolls along the beach in the early morning or the evening while he's not performing, but today he has the entire day free, so he's come a little earlier than usual to try and settle himself.

But the usual route isn't doing anything for him today. The sand is still soft and warm on his feet and the waves still crash rhythmically on the shore, but he just wants something new. So, when he reaches the end of his normal walk and comes to the gated off area at the northernmost end of the beach, he slips past the gate and continues. Nothing immediately jumps out at him as dangerous, so he just strolls along, shuffling his feet through the sand.

The beach is usually quiet, but right now there isn't another person in sight and Jaskier revels in the silence, humming to himself as he goes along. When he comes to the point, he follows the tapering beach around to a point and beyond it, there's a little more land that leads into a rocky outcrop. He can't get past it, but he could climb up it and sit in the sun, looking out over the ocean.

He wades through the water where it rises to midway up his shins before reaching the other side, but when he reaches the stone ledge, he spots what looks like a cave. And he can't just not go look at it. So he takes another quick peek just to ensure no one else is around and hurries toward the opening in the rock. The sun above is bright, but the overhang of rock offers some relief from the heat, so he takes his time.

The entrance is, in fact, the mouth of a cave and Jaskier grins to himself, slipping inside. It's not deep, but at the back there is a drop-off and a tunnel that leads further. He walks forward steps around the gaping hole in the ground, careful to keep his footing as he aims for the tunnel. It's dark, but he can still see a little - well enough to continue on for the time being - and up ahead there's a faint glow that piques his interest.

So he doesn't stop when the light starts to fade, just heads toward the glow at the back of the tunnel. It's some ways down, but he does eventually come out into another cave with a smooth rocky floor and another tunnel leading off. But what interests Jaskier more than anything is the plant life. It grows on the walls and ceiling and it glows.

It lets off a faint bluish glow and Jaskier leans up to inspect it. Some of the plants grow little purplish flowers, but most of them resemble moss or vines and Jaskier would be inclined to call them plain if they grew in a forest and weren't luminescent. But they are and he's fascinated by it.

He spends more time than he should inspecting all the different types of growth - there are at least four distinct plans he can see all growing together - and it's not until the light from the opposite end of the tunnel begins to fade that he realizes he should turn back. He has a performance tonight and he'd like the chance to bathe and change beforehand.

He slips from the room he's in, heading back through the tunnel, but the ground beneath his feet slopes downward and he doesn't realize until water splashes around his ankles. It startles him at first; there was no water on the way in, but as he reaches the main cave, he realizes what has happened.

He's spent too long exploring and the tide has come in around him, too far now to walk out the way he came in. And Jaskier is a good swimmer, but water swirls dangerously where the hole in the ground is, pouring quickly into, it and he's not a strong enough swimmer to keep from being sucked down. Even as he considers it, the water swirling around his feet rises higher and his only option is to turn back the way he came. Which is not a great option, but he doesn't really see what else he's supposed to do.

But he turns around and heads back through the tunnel. The incline is more than he remembers, and judging by what he knows of the tides - very little - he thinks he should be safe to hide out here until it goes back down again. He finds a bare patch of wall and drops to the ground to lean against it, sighing softly as he listens to the water rising in the tunnel. It splashes against stone and Jaskier shuts his eyes, focusing on the calming sound of it. Maybe the time will pass more quickly if he can just have a little nap.

But the more he listens, the more he hears and there's a slick, sliding sound he's been assuming was seaweed caught in the current, but when he focuses hard enough, he can hear something not unlike breathing. His eyes flash open and he scans the room but sees nothing. Then, out of the corner of his eye, there's a shadow.

Jaskier's heart races because he knows the kinds of things that live in the sea; sirens, drowners and any number of animals that would be happy enough to eat him alive. So he presses himself against the wall and keeps quiet.

Something long and thin slips over his foot, curling around his ankle, and Jaskier's eyes flash open. He hadn't even realized they were still shut, but when he looks up there's a person in front of him, or at least he looks like a person. But as he comes closer, Jaskier realizes he only looks human from the waist up. Below the waist is a mass of dark tentacles, sprawled out all around him and propelling him forward.

Jaskier shudders at the sight of him, but as he approaches, the fear dissipates a little, replaced with intrigue. The man - if he can be called that at all - doesn't seem angry or upset and he has a friendly enough expression. He slips closer, sinking lower so he's face-to-face with Jaskier and it becomes clear that he's just as curious about Jaskier as Jaskier is about him.

"Uh, sorry," Jaskier mumbles, "I didn't mean to intrude, I just ah-" one of the tentacles reaches out, tipping his chin up and sliding across his jaw. "I just got trapped-?" His voice rises at the end like a question, but the creature just cocks his head at him.

"The tide," he says and Jaskier nods. He's got a beautiful voice, deep and rough and in any other situation, incredibly sexy. But while Jaskier isn't discriminating in his choice of partners, he's still feeling rather trapped.

"Mmhm."

"It won't go down again until morning. Unless you can hold your breath for a long time, you'll have to spend the night."

"Oh." Jaskier is caught off guard by the lightness of his response and he looks up at him. "You don't mind?" he asks and the creature just smiles at him, an odd sort of smile that makes something in Jaskier's stomach flip.

"Stay," he says, "it'll be hours before the tide is low enough for you to leave again."

"You're not going to eat me?" The creature laughs and slides a little closer, peering at him.

"No. I've never had a… human in my home before. I'm certainly not going to kill you." He chuckles softly and swishes away to the other side of the cave, but Jaskier is caught on the sound of his laugh, a warm, welcoming thing that he'd like very much to hear again. And, well, he has all night.

"Sorry," he says, rising to his feet and following the creature to the other side, "I don't know what - who - you are."

"Geralt," he says plainly, "I'm a cecaelia. We've been here longer than most, but many of us don't come so close to the surface, so you wouldn't have met many."

"Haven't met any," Jaskier confirms. "We're told to stay away from the creatures who live in the sea." Geralt lifts an eyebrow at the word creature, but doesn't say anything about it. Jaskier makes a mental note not to repeat it.

"And you," Geralt prompts, "what's your name, human?"

"Jaskier," he huffs and I get the point. "Do you live here alone?"

"Yes, unless you count the fish who filter in and out with the tides."

"You must get lonely."

Geralt gives him a look that from anyone else he might consider flirtatious, and it stirs something inside him that he quickly tamps down. This isn't the time to get turned on. Especially not by someone who's not human.

"Occasionally. I'm used to being alone."

Jaskier isn't sure how to respond to that, so he lets the conversation drop. He wants to assure him, which is a strange compulsion because he doesn't even know Geralt. Two hours ago he couldn't have cared less about a man living on his own in this cave. But now…

He looks him over, following the line of his body from his strong jaw and thick chest down to the mass of tentacles that never quite seem to stop moving. Even when Geralt is still, they shift under him like he's trying to settle, though he seems calm. More like an unconscious motion, maybe. But Jaskier is fascinated by them. He wants to touch, to feel, but he knows well enough to keep his hands to himself when unwanted, so he switches focus.

"So what's it like living down here?" he asks, looking around the cave as though he hadn't spent ages exploring it already.

"Quiet," Geralt says tiredly, "peaceful. But that's not what you want to talk about, is it? You can ask," he hums.

"I just-"

"Jaskier, we have all night down here together. Ask."

"Do they ever stop moving?" he blurts and heat creeps into his cheeks at the abruptness of it, but Geralt just chuckles softly.

"When I sleep. When I'm relaxed."

"Then what's wrong, now? If you're not relaxed."

"I have… questions of my own."

"Okay," Jaskier says, "ask away."

"Can I… touch you?" he asks and Jaskier's breath catches.

"If you like. I have nothing to hide."

Geralt shifts forward, reaching out to brush a tentacle under his chin again, tipping his head up and moving it side to side. It feels like an examination, like the time he fell ill and had to be taken to a healer, but Geralt's touch is much softer, much more delicate than that.

"I've never met a human before either," he says conversationally, "you're… softer than I expected."

"Softer?" Jaskier laughs, "how so?"

"Your… skin looks thick and rough, but it's soft, smooth." He presses the tip of the tentacle against his cheek, pressing in gently. "Like a jellyfish," he adds and Jaskier laughs again.

"Is that bad?"

"No," Geralt hums, tilting his own head as he turns Jaskier's. "I like it." Another tentacle curls around the back of his neck and Jaskier breathes deeply, trying hard not to think too much about the touch, about how it feels like a lover's touch.

He's had countless lovers slip a hand around his neck to pull him closer and he leans in without thinking, letting Geralt have full control over him. Geralt grins and smiles knowingly at him, sliding the tentacle from his neck to his shoulder and down over his chest. The tip of it slips into the gaps in Jaskier's shirt, poking at the buttons holding it closed.

"Why do you wear these?" he asks, not looking up from his exploration. "Don't they get in the way?"

"No," Jaskier shakes his head and hates to admit that he sounds a little breathless. "They keep me warm. I'd freeze in the cold weather without clothes. And they keep me covered. It's not polite to walk around naked all the time."

"For humans," Geralt amends and Jaskier nods. "I'm not human." Jaskier chokes on the implication, but Geralt just meets his eyes questioningly.

"You can take it off, if you want."

Geralt doesn't need to be told twice. He fumbles with the button at first, but when he brings up a second tentacle to push at it, he has much more luck. Jaskier wants to tell him he could just use his hands, but there's something fascinating about the potential of having those tentacles on his skin. Once the buttons are undone, Geralt shoves the shirt back off his shoulders leaving it half-tucked into his trousers.

He frowns at Jaskier's chest, running his tentacles over his skin. Jaskier gasps when he brushes over a nipple and leans into the touch instinctively. He draws back just as abruptly, gasping as he realizes what he's doing. He doesn't have a chance to apologize before Geralt's touch lightens. He doesn't pull away, but he tips his head at him.

"Should I stop?" he asks, but the tone of his voice implies that he doesn't want to.

"I just- Geralt you don't know what you're doing."

"I do," he hums, "this part of you, I understand. It feels good for you?"

"Yeah. Do you- do you want to make it feel good?"

"If you'll let me," Geralt hums, "I've always been… intrigued by you, by humans." Jaskier grins and pushes forward, sliding one hand down the length of the tentacle exploring his chest.

"Can I touch you, too?"

"Of course, I'd like that."

"You realize what you're offering, right? Not that I'm opposed, but I want to make sure we're both on the same page, here."

"Jaskier," he hums, "we have all night and I'd very much like to fuck you if you're amenable."

Jaskier's skin prickles and he lets out a little groan. Maybe he should feel weird about Geralt wanting to fuck him just because he's human, but he's vibrating at the thought of it already.

"Please," he whispers and Geralt moves immediately.

He wraps one tentacle around his waist, hauling him in and holding him close. He tugs the shirt from Jaskier's trousers, chucking it aside as Jaskier straddles him, careful where he puts his knees so he doesn't hurt Geralt. But Geralt keeps him off the ground, hovering slightly so Jaskier's front presses against him firmly, but so he only barely touches Geralt's tentacles or the webbing between them.

Jaskier presses himself forward, conscious of the fastenings on his trousers as he grinds against Geralt's torso. Tentacles wind around his hips and chest and thighs, slipping against his skin then pausing to suck at it. It sends shivers up his spine and goosebumps break out over his skin. The feeling is so foreign, the feeling of suction all over his skin, but it feels good and he leans into it.

Geralt's hands settle on his shoulders, slowly sliding down, and Jaskier glances up to meet his eyes. Geralt's have grown dark, but there's still a sliver of gold around his pupils and Jaskier finds himself entranced by it, how it shimmers and almost glows even in the low light. He touches Geralt's face, traces the line of his cheekbones and runs his thumb against his lip.

"You're beautiful," he whispers and Geralt's hands slip to his waist, pulling him up against him. "Can I kiss you?"

"Yes."

Jaskier leans in and Geralt meets him halfway, kissing him hard and nipping his lip with teeth sharper than they ought to be. Though Jaskier supposes he doesn't have much for a frame of reference when it comes to cecaelia. He deepens the kiss, letting Geralt's tongue slide into his mouth, thinner and more pointed than his own. He licks into him, fingers digging into his skin as he grips his thighs, and Jaskier just holds on for the ride.

All his experience with other people means nothing when faced with Geralt and he's feeling a little out of his depth as he's laid back against the stone floor again. Geralt breaks the kiss long enough to squirm in between his thighs and then reaches down, fumbling with the clasps of Jaskier's trousers. He gets them undone and shoves them down his legs, immediately getting his tentacles back on his bare skin.

"Oh," Jaskier gasps, "oh, that's good, Geralt."

"Feels good?"

"Very. Keep going."

Jaskier shuts his eyes as Geralt's tentacles slip between his legs, brushing against his balls before squeezing around his thighs. Geralt hums and gets his arms around Jaskier's waist, sliding one hand down over his ass.

"Tell me what to do," Geralt says, tilting his head to kiss Jaskier's jaw, "tell me what feels good."

"Anything," Jaskier hums, "just touch me."

"Like this?" Geralt asks, sliding a tentacle around his torso and Jaskier nods, eyes fluttering as suction cups catch on his nipples. He moans softly, reaching out to run his hands up Geralt's chest and Geralt pushes into the touch. "You like that, too?"

"Yes." Jaskier revels in the surprising warmth of his skin, soft and smooth over firm muscles and he slides his hands up over his shoulders, pulling Geralt close to kiss him again. He sighs into his mouth and Geralt deepens the kiss, pressing further against him.

He's got Jaskier almost completely bound now, wrapped tightly and held just above his lap, but he moves forward, tipping him back and laying him on the ground. Abruptly, all of the tentacles around him are gone and Jaskier is left alone and suddenly cold on the ground, but it doesn't last long. Geralt slides up over his thighs, settling himself there where he has full access to Jaskier's body.

He runs tentacles over his chest and Jaskier stretches out, pushing his arms up above his head to give Geralt better access to him. His touch feels good, like a massage. Geralt doesn't hesitate to touch anywhere, pushing his thighs apart and sliding between them, sliding up around his balls as another curls around his cock, squeezing experimentally.

Jaskier gives a little whine and Gerakt's eyes flash up to meet his. He does it again, harder this time and Jaskier squirms under him. Geralt's eyes go wide and he grins as he slips his tentacle up the length of him and Jaskier nearly chokes because he's doing it on purpose now. The arm around his balls squeezes a little too and Jaskier tenses up immediately, expecting pain, but it's… good. He shudders a little as his thighs spread further and then Geralt's squeezing again, wrapping around him.

It's not something he's ever done with anyone before, but Geralt has no idea what he likes and doesn't like, or even what feels good for humans, so he's exploring. And evidently, Jaskier is learning a thing or two, also.

Geralt moves on, sliding back up his stomach again and Jaskier shudders as they slip over his hips, over the sensitive skin just above his cock. He wants to let Geralt continue his exploration, but he wants the pressure around his cock again, wants to fuck into the heat of him. Geralt's skin is thicker and rougher than his own, but it's smooth and it feels good against his prick and he just wants.

"Geralt," he whispers, "come here." Geralt cocks his head and leans forward over him. He runs his hands up Geralt's chest, slipping over his shoulders and around his neck to tug him down.

He nips at Geralt's lips, nuzzles at his neck and rocks up against him. He's hard already Geralt's skin just feels so fucking good against his heated cock. He jerks again, pushing up hard and tangling his hands in Geralt's hair. He slips one hand out of Geralt's hair and wraps his hand around Geralt's tentacle and pulls it down between them, sliding it alongside his cock until Geralt gets the idea and wraps around him.

"You like this?" he asks and Jaskier moans softly, rolling his head back as he lets out a breathy yes.

Geralt makes a thoughtful sound and squeezes firmly, eliciting another moan and he seems very pleased with himself. He strokes him a couple of times, slipping right up to the head and sliding around him as he goes. It's intoxicating and Jaskier doesn't know if his own hand will ever be sufficient again, after this.

But Geralt still delights in finding the new things and he slips away shortly, slipping up to play with Jaskier's nipples again and Jaskier just groans. Geralt perks up, grinning at him.

"Do you want this?" he asks, slipping over his aching cock again. Jaskier nods and Geralt strokes him exactly twice before winding down around his thighs and squeezing.

"Geralt," Jaskier groans, "please."

"What do you want?" he asks, a smirk spreading across his face. Jaskier could kill him, the bastard. He's toying with him.

"You know what I want."

"Do I? Remind me."

Jaskier groans and grabs for the tentacle again, wrapping it around himself and thrusting up into the coils. He moans softly, dropping his eyes shut and slips his hands around the coiled arm, keeping it tight around him.

"Seems like you've got it under control," Geralt teases, but before Jaskier can even argue, he's leaning down over him, nipping at his collarbone and squeezing around Jaskier's cock.

"Oh, Geralt, please."

His hips buck hard and Geralt coils and uncoils around him and it's a delightful feeling like nothing he's ever felt before. Jaskier whimpers and his hips jerk up into the loose coils, immediately aching for the touch again. But Geralt seems to have lost his taste for teasing now and holds tight around him, ensuring Jaskier's entire cock is engulfed by him, jerking abortively up into the grip of him.

And Jaskier could cry with how good it feels, the rough slickness of Geralt's skin creating a burning need that spreads through him and he's gonna come in no time like this, but he doesn't even mind. Because after he comes, he gets to touch Geralt, to figure out all the little things that turn him on and he looks forward to it with delight.

Geralt pulls him back to the present with a sharp bite to the join of his neck and Jaskier cries out, jerking hard into his tentacle.

"Sorry," Geralt hums, already licking over the mark, but Jaskier shakes his head.

"Fuck, don't be. Do that again."

Geralt lifts his head to look at him then tentatively lowers his head, brushing his lips against the skin of his neck before kissing him. He nibbles lightly at his throat and sucks softly before nosing under his jaw and biting down hard on the side of his neck. Jaskier gasps and moans and his cock jerks as he comes hard, still encompassed by Geralt's body.

Geralt continues with the slipping, almost like wringing a cloth, and Jaskier is breathless and gasping, already swelling again under the touch by the time he pulls away.

"Fuck me," he breathes, "Gods, Geralt you are incredible."

Geralt hums, but his attention is clearly diverted and when Jaskier looks up, he's playing with the come on his chest, slipping the tip of one tentacle through it and lifting it up to sniff at it. Jaskier wrinkles his nose, but then Geralt's putting it in his mouth, flicking his tongue out to taste it and his gut clenches. That… should not be as hot as it is.

Geralt grins down at him and climbs up over him, pressing something warm and wet against Jaskier's cock as he settles himself.

"You look good," he hums, "when you come." Jaskier just groans and presses up against Geralt's underside. He gets a little gasp in response and grins to himself.

"What is that?" he asks, "do you- how do cecaelia fuck?"

Geralt doesn't answer, but shifts again, pressing harder down against Jaskier's prick. It catches on something and Geralt lifts himself just a little, keeping himself steady as he maneuvers Jaskier's cock inside him without so much as touching it.

His eyelids flutter and he moans softly as he sinks down on him, fully engulfing Jaskier's cock and clenching around him.

"Feels fuckin' amazing," Jaskier huffs, though that might be the sensitivity talking. He's not used to coming and immediately being (mounted) afterward, but he's not complaining.

"Mm," Geralt affirms, "it's been a long time since I've taken something inside, but-" he groans as Jaskier shifts his hips and drops forward, leaning on his elbows. "Fuck me," he whispers before leaning in to kiss Jaskier's neck. "Please, fuck me."

Jaskier doesn't need to be told twice. He slides his hands down, settling on the swell of what would be Geralt's hips and holding him down. He rocks into the tight heat, eyes rolling back as Geralt clenches continually around him, and nuzzling against his head.

"Gods," he breathes, "fuck Geralt, does this feel as good for you as it does for me?"

"Feels good," he huffs, "really, really good." He bites at Jaskier's skin and shifts himself forward before sliding down fully on Jaskier's cock again and rising up to sit on him.

Jaskier glances down, running his fingers down Geralt's waist and pauses when he reaches a bump. Geralt's breath catches and Jaskier presses more firmly against it, massaging the spot until Geralt lets out a low, rumbling moan.

Beneath his fingers, the skin parts and Jaskier pulls back abruptly, but Geralt reaches out, pulls his hand back against it.

"Please," he mumbles, "it's been… a long time since anyone has touched me like this."

Jaskier lets his fingertips trace the seam, slipping just barely inside when Geralt shudders. Geralt keeps a firm hand around his wrist, holding him there and Jaskier is intrigued as to what feels that good. He doesn't have to wait long to find out.

Beneath his fingers, something slips free from the slit, thick and red and very much dick-like. He flicks his eyes up to Geralt's, holding his gaze as he wraps his fingers around the head of it. Geralt groans and his cock slips further out, slipping into Jaskier's palm. Jaskier curls his hand around him, stroking evenly until Geralt's fully unsheathed and Jaskier's fingers can no longer press into the slit at the base of him.

"Good?" Jaskier asks and Geralt nods, rocking up into his fingers and back onto his cock. "How come no one touches you like this?" He can't possibly imagine fucking someone like Geralt and not wanting to touch every inch of him.

"I haven't seen another cecaelia in years," he breathes, "and it's not as good on my own." He flexes his hand showing off clawed fingers and Jaskier nods, understanding.

"How do you touch yourself normally?" Geralt licks his lips and Jaskier follows the motion with his tongue, rolling his hips up into him. Geralt raises a tentacle, wiggling it at him.

Jaskier reaches out with his free hand, wrapping his fingers around it, lifting it and running his fingertip along the lip of the suction cups as Geralt holds it aloft. It shivers under his touch and Jaskier grins as he looks up to see Geralt's face pinched up in pleasure, sharp teeth digging into his bottom lip.

"Does that.. do you like that?"

"Geralt nods silently," pressing the tentacle more firmly into his grasp.

"What if I-" Jaskier starts and Geralt's eyes go wide as he slips his palm along the underside of the tentacle and brings the tip toward his mouth.

The limb twitches toward Jaskier's mouth and as he wraps his lips around it, the rest of the wriggle around him. Jaskier sucks it into his mouth and Geralt groans. It doesn't seem like the kind of thing that should feel good, but he likes having his fingers sucked, so he assumes it's something similar to that.

He winds his tongue between the cups, tracing the shape of each of them before taking it as deep as he can, sucking hard. Geralt groans, withdrawing a little before pushing back between his lips and Jaskier hums around him. He lets Geralt take control, leaning back on one elbow, one hand still slipping against his hip as he rocks.

From here, he has a perfect view of Geralt's cock, jutting proudly from his body as he fucks himself on Jaskier's cock. He's slick and dripping and Jaskier aches to get his mouth on him, to suck him off and make him come in his mouth. He squirms with the desire, sucking hard on the limb in his mouth instead and Geralt jerks forward hard.

He surges forward, keeping Jaskier's cock buried inside him as he winds tentacles around his arms, pushing them up above his head and holding them there. His hands slip down over them until they reach Jaskier's, twining their fingers together and using him as leverage to rock back onto him.

Jaskier squeezes tightly, even as sharp claws press into his skin. Heat swells within him and he knows he won't last with Geralt riding him like this, but he gives in to it, clearing his mind of everything but their bodies moving together. His head falls back, but instead of hitting the hard floor, the blow is softened by another tentacle, slipping up to cushion him.

"Can I-?" he asks and Jaskier doesn't even wait to hear what he's going to ask before nodding enthusiastically.

Beneath him, two more tentacles wrap around his thighs, squeezing tightly and pushing them apart. A third slips between, pressing against his balls and then slipping back behind, into the cleft of his ass. Jaskier squirms and rocks against it, pushing himself further into Geralt's cunt. He groans around the tentacle still in his mouth and Geralt presses against his hole and that's all it takes for Jaskier to tip over the edge.

He shakes through his orgasm, still sucking on the tentacle in his mouth, though his finesse fails as Geralt continues to rock onto his cock. Pleasure zips through him and he squeezes hard around Geralt's fingers, holding him tight as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over him. He's still shaking as Geralt clenches around him and it's so fucking good Jaskier can barely breathe.

Geralt withdraws the tentacle in his mouth and bends to kiss him, slow and soft despite Jaskier's breathlessness. It's a little uncoordinated, and Jaskier pants against his mouth, but a warmth spreads through his chest as Geralt's tongue slides against his own. He hums against him and Jaskier just lets him lead, his eyes dropping shut.

"You're beautiful," Geralt breathes as he draws away. His lips drag against Jaskier's skin and Jaskier shudders as goosebumps pop up in the wake of Geralt's mouth.

"You didn't come," Jaskier mumbles, slipping his hands into Geralt's hair. "Wanna make you come."

"And you will, but I think you need a minute or two." He wraps a tentacle around Jaskier's cock and stroking slowly. But Jaskier is soft, though it feels good when Geralt touches him again.

"Dunno if I'll get hard again," he says but he's already feeling it, the first tendrils of pleasure swirling in his gut. And he knows he can get hard again, has done it in the past, but he's already a little overwhelmed and he doesn't know if it's gonna happen tonight.

But Geralt isn't worried about that. He strokes him again, slips up and rocks against his soft cock, kissing his neck and chest and squeezing his nipples between his fingers. Geralt is persistent and it doesn't take long before Jaskier's cock swells again under his touch. Geralt shoves a hand down under himself, squeezing Jaskier's cock and kissing his mouth.

"Want you to fuck me," Geralt hums, nipping at his lip. "Wanna feel you."

"Fuck." Jaskier drops his head back as Geralt's fingers slip up over the head of his cock, his thumb pressing teasingly into the slit. "Fuck. Yeah, okay."

Geralt tugs him up and slides off of him, turning around and bending over to lean on his elbows. He sticks his hips up, moving his tentacles to the side so Jaskier can fit in between them. He does, running his hands over Geralt's hips and down his back. Tentacles wrap around him, holding him and pressing him lightly forward, slipping up over his shoulders and suctioning to his skin.

From here, Jaskier can see his hole properly and he rubs against the ridged entrance, circling it with his fingers before pushing inside. And Geralt groans at the intrusion, dropping his head shut and pushing his hips up further.

"Good?" Jaskier asks and Geralt nods.

Encouraged, Jaskier slides his fingers inside, eased by Geralt's own slickness. He works into him easily, feeling around inside and thrusting gently. Geralt groans softly, encouragingly, and Jaskier works in a little quicker, adding a third finger without any effort. He fucks into him until Geralt is panting beneath him, tentacles clenching around him and twitching.

It feels good to be able to make him feel good and Jaskier delights in the little popping feeling of suction cups against his skin as Geralt lifts his arms and replaces them, squeezing around his limbs. He moans loudly as Jaskier's pace increases and as he squirms, Jaskier realizes how close he is and he's determined to make him come with just his fingers. So he rubs into him, feeling around until he hits something that makes Geralt gasp.

He grins, dipping down to kiss Geralt's spine as he brushes against the mound again.

"Like that?" he asks.

"Fuck. Yes."

"Wanna come on my fingers?"

"If you'll still fuck me."

"Of course, my darling. I'd be delighted to fuck you. Take you apart and make you scream on my cock."

"Yes," Geralt whines, "fuck, Jaskier."

"Mmhm," Jaskier hums, "soon darling, come on."

He slides his free hand around, slipping around the base of Geralt's cock. He slips his fingers into the slit, pressing into his cock before wrapping around it and stroking slowly. Geralt bucks into the touch, gasping and moaning and with a final thrust as Jaskier presses against that spot inside him, Geralt comes.

Jaskier pulls his fingers back, now completely slick and he slides his hand over Geralt's hip, still stroking his cock even after Geralt shudders under him. Geralt seems perfectly content to fuck into Jaskier's fist, but Jaskier is impatient now, his cock hard and aching between his legs.

He wraps a hand around himself, stroking a couple of times before pressing himself against Geralt's entrance. He's still sensitive, but it feels good and as he rubs himself against the slick skin, the sensitivity gives way to pleasure.

"You feel good," he mumbles, "want you. Fuck."

"Come on," Geralt encourages. He squeezes around his thighs, nudging him forward and sucking at his skin. "Wanna feel you."

Jaskier groans and pushes in, pulling Geralt's hips against him. He curses softly as Geralt wiggles his hips and pushes deep, keeping himself steady. One tentacle slips up around the back of his neck and into his hair, tugging lightly and Jaskier snaps his hips forward hard, pulling a low groan from Geralt.

"That's it," Geralt coos, "I know you want to come again, hmm?"

Jaskier just groans as he rolls his hips forward, letting Geralt adjust before thrusting harder. And it does feel good. It feels so good and he wants more of it. He fucks into him quickly, pushing his hands down Geralt's back and pulling back again.

A tentacle slips between his cheeks, grinding against his hole but not pushing in and Jaskier rocks back onto it, groaning loudly. He's surrounded on all sides, bundled up in Geralt's limbs as he fucks him and he loves the firmness of the tentacles around him, of the warmth and slickness and he groans as his cock throbs inside him. The one around his neck teases, slipping up to press at his lips, pulling his bottom lip down and pressing between them.

The limb tightens a little, slipping around his throat to push between his lips and Jaskier barely manages to groan out a soft harder, before his mouth is otherwise occupied. Geralt seems to get the idea though, tightening his grip on his neck just a little and Jaskier's eyes nearly roll back in his head. He fucks forward almost absently, focused on the suction cups clinging to his throat and the firm weight of it around him.

And fuck, it feels amazing.

He pushes harder, changing his angle to try and hit that same spot from before and when he does it's gloriously clear. Geralt slumps against the floor, arms stretched out in front of him, whining as Jaskier aims for the same spot again, rutting ceaselessly into him. His head is foggy with lust, enhanced by the slow intake of his breath and he's creeping close before long. But he doesn't want to stop, can't bring himself to stop.

He sprawls over Geralt's back, getting a hand around his cock again and playing with the tip. He slips his fingers around and inside, drawing back to the base and pressing into his slit and Geralt whimpers delightfully with each touch.

"Gonna come-" he mumbles and it's all the warning Jaskier gets before Geralt's jerking into his hand and coming all over him. He shudders and pushes back, and as he clenches around him, Jaskier follows, coming hard and dropping against his back.

The limb around his neck slides away and he inhales deeply, mumbling softly against Geralt's bare skin. He shuts his eyes and breathes in the scent of him, surprisingly strong for someone who lives most of his life presumably in the ocean. He listens to Geralt's heartbeat under his head and smiles softly to himself.

But he doesn't have much time to relax, only enough to catch his breath before Geralt is squirming under him, wriggling free and bringing Jaskier up to lie on his chest. He runs his hands through his hair, holding him gently around the waist with two tentacles and he just looks at him. His eyes are still dark, but they're soft and fond and it's too much, so Jaskier buries his head in Geralt's neck. He already struggles with becoming too attached to people too quickly, the last thing he needs to do is wind up falling for a cecaelia who he has no hope of continuing a relationship with.

But when Geralt kisses him, he shuts his eyes with a soft sigh and it doesn't feel wrong. It should feel wrong, he realizes, sleeping with someone who isn't even human, but he supposes Geralt is more like an elf in that sense. Elves are basically human, just slightly different. Half-elves are a thing, as are quarter elves, so why should Geralt be any different.

Evidently, Geralt thinks he's thinking too much, because he pulls himself up into a sitting position, drawing Jaskier up into his lap. He's still kissing him, but he wraps his arms around his waist this time, letting his tentacles slip down to wrap around his legs, smoothing along the skin and coiling around him. As long as he lives, no rope or bond will hold him quite as nicely, as securely as Geralt does now.

Jaskier deepens the kiss, licks into his mouth despite the heaviness spreading into his limbs. His eyes are heavy and he's not sure he could get up on his own, but he doesn't want to stop, doesn't want Geralt to let him go. Not yet. So he continues kissing him, wrapping his hands around the back of his neck and running fingers through still-damp hair.

But Geralt clearly has other plans and when Jaskier feels the tip of a tentacle pressing up between his cheeks again, he can't even find it in himself to say no.

"Don't know how good I'll be," he hums, ducking to kiss the side of Geralt's neck. "'M tired."

"We can stop," Geralt says, but Jaskier shakes his head before Geralt can even pull away.

"No," Jaskier breathes, "I just- I don't know if I can make you feel good."

"You do," Geralt hums, leaning in to meet him halfway in a too-soft kiss. "Being inside you feels good, you sucking on me feels good. You feel good."

The probing tentacle presses a little more firmly, and it's dry, but Jaskier isn't complaining. Geralt pauses.

"You're not slick?" he asks and Jaskier shakes his head again.

"No, men don't- you gotta use something, it doesn't happen naturally."

Geralt hums thoughtfully and then the tentacle is slipping away and Jaskier is disappointed for a moment before it reappears, sliding smoothing against his skin before pressing in. He's slick this time and it takes Jaskier's sex-addled brain a minute to realize Geralt used his own slick and that does something to him that he can't quite explain. Geralt pulls him in close and Jaskier whimpers as the tentacle presses into him, sinking deeper than any cock has ever reached.

He holds his breath, waiting for the pain, but there's none, even as the thickness of the limb stretches him open. Geralt touches him softly, and then another tentacle is pressing at his hole and Jaskier can only whine into Geralt's chest. The second one doesn't push as deep, pressing right up against his prostate and Jaskeir doesn't think he can come again tonight, but as Geralt bumps against him, his cock twitches against his thigh.

"If we had more time," he mumbles, "I'd like to see how many can fit." Jaskier nearly loses his mind at the words so calmly spoken, and he wants to tell Geralt that he would absolutely be willing and happy to try that, but right now keeping his body upright is hard, so he just moans against him again.

"Can I fuck you?" Geralt asks and Jaskier huffs a laugh.

"'S that not what you're doing?"

"I mean with my cock," he hums, "I'd like to fuck you properly."

"Gonna have to discuss how you fuck properly if this isn't it," Jaskier mumbles, "never been so fucking full in my life." Geralt rocks up against him, breathing shakily as their cocks rub together.

"It'll be good," he breathes.

"Not saying no," Jaskier huffs, "I want you every way. Just not sure-" he gasps as Geralt thrusts deeper into him with the second tentacle "-how it could be better than this."

Slowly, carefully, Geralt slips out of him, using the same tentacles to wrap around his own cock, guiding it to Jaskier's hole as Geralt'shands slip up his back to steady him.

"Good?" he asks and Jaskier nods, shifting to adjust to the new sensation. Geralt's cock is smoother than the tentacles, thicker at the tip, and tapered and cool. When he pushes into him, Jaskier wraps his arms around his neck, holding him and shifting slowly to adjust. It's the temperature more than anything, but he likes the feeling of it inside him and he warms up soon enough.

He can't imagine how hot it is for Geralt, but it's hard to read his expression, just wide-eyed and staring as he sinks into him. As he settles another tentacle slips up his back and around his neck. Its grip remains loose, but it prods at his lips and Jaskier opens to him easily. Geralt pushes into his mouth, fucking his mouth with short, shallow thrusts as a third tentacle wraps its way around Jaskier's cock, leaving him completely engulfed.

His mind swirls with mindless thoughts of pleasure as Geralt fills him fully and wraps his way around him. He has very little movement, but he doesn't feel trapped. Instead, he just feels pleasantly held as Geralt moves under him, thrusting into him with slow, languid thrusts.

His cock is angled just so that it hits his prostate with the first thrust and doesn't stop, continually bumping against it until Jaskier is breathless and completely limp in his arms. And when Geralt dips down to kiss him, brushing damp hair out of his eyes, he's panting. He looks good like this, all dark eyes and parted lips, putting all his energy into holding Jaskier up and fucking him and Jaskier can't find the words to properly describe how Geralt makes him feel.

Then, just as he doesn't think he can get any more full, as he doesn't think he can take much more, a tentacle presses around his rim, sliding around the girth of Geralt's cock where it's buried within him.

"Please," Jaskier finds himself mumbling, "please, Geralt, I need it-"

"Shh," Geralt whispers, his voice unsteady as Jaskier squirms against him. "Let me take care of you." The tentacle presses in, winding around Geralt's cock inside him and shifting steadily.

He's so full he can hardly think, so overwhelmed and oversensitive and he can't do anything but cling to Geralt's shoulders and bury his face in his neck.

"Please," he whispers, "gonna come, please-"

He didn't think he could but his cock aches, throbs with the need to come. He needs it so bad it hurts and all he can do is grind up against Geralt as best he can in his bonds.

One of Geralt's hands comes around to hold the back of his neck and the other slips to his chest, thumb rubbing over his nipple and Jaskier very nearly comes right there. He whines and whimpers, writing amongst the mass of tentacles and Geralt kisses him hard, pinching his nipple and Jaskier thrusts into the coil of his tentacle, crying out as he comes.

Pleasure tears through him, bordering on pain as Geralt continues fucking into him, but it's so good, too good. The tentacle slips from his mouth, sliding back to cradle his head as it drops back and Geralt leans in to kiss him. He's twitching around him now, his cock snapping into him until Jaskier's seeing stars and then, with a groan against his parted lips, Geralt thrusts deep and shudders, pressing Jaskier tight against his chest.

After a moment, he continues rocking lightly, gently leaning Jaskier back so he can look at him. His expression is soft and he pulls a tentacle to take the place of his arm as he runs his fingers down Jaskier's chest.

"Feeling okay?" he asks and as Jaskier just groans softly in response, Geralt chuckles. "We've still got a few hours left until the tide is out far enough for it to be safe for you."

"Geralt," Jaskier huffs, "you're incredible, but I can't-" Geralt laughs again, dipping forward to kiss him.

It's soft and gentle and for a moment, Jaskier lets himself be drawn in, wrapping his arms around Geralt's neck. His cock brushes up against him and he whines at the sensitivity, but Geralt shifts, laying him down on the ground and slipping off to the side.

It's cold without Geralt around him and he feels suddenly very alone, but Geralt gets a hand on his hips and pulls him closer. Jaskier cuddles in, rolling onto his back with one leg slung over Geralt's.

"It's been a long time since I've had company," Geralt says, "do you mind if we just… talk?"

"That sounds lovely," Jaskier hums, "I don't think I'm up for a whole lot more than that tonight," he turns his head, flashing a grin at Geralt and earns himself a kiss for it. It worries him a little, how easily he responds to Geralt's affection, how readily he gives himself over to him. His mother always told him he'd end up hurt because of it, but he never fully understood what she meant before, but he thinks he might now.

"What would you like to talk about?"

Geralt asks many things about where he lives and what it's like there, how far it is whether Jaskier is happy there. Jaskier is happy to tell him anything he wants to know, but as time goes by, he starts to nod off, worn out from being fucked so thoroughly. Geralt just pulls him in and curls around him as he drifts, pressing his nose into Jaskier's hair.

When Jaskier wakes, Geralt is still there, breathing softly against him, though not asleep, and it only takes a moment to realize Geralt is the one who woke him.

"The tide is out if you want to go," he says softly, fingers coming up to slip through his hair.

"And if I don't?" Jaskier mumbles, shutting his eyes again and turning to throw his leg over Geralt's again, pressed against his chest.

"It'll be a while before the next tide-" he starts but Jaskier cuts him off with a grin, leaning up to kiss him softly.

"If it's all the same to you, I'd like to stay."

"Mm," Geralt hums, lacing his fingers with Jaskier's, "and why is that?"

"Because I like it here. I like the beach, I like the company. I'd like to get to know some of them better." Geralt scoffs, but when he rolls his eyes, his expression is fond.

"I wouldn't be… opposed to that, either."

"Good," Jaskier grins, "because I'd very much like to do this again sometime."

#geraskier #octo!geralt #mermay 2021 #rex writes

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angelicyoongie · 4 years

Text

the crimson shell (II)

— pairing: jungkook x f!reader — genre: mermaid au, yandere au — w.c: 3.5k (drabble series) — warnings: mentions of death, mentions of drowning — notes: well, it wasn’t supposed to take four months to write the second part but here we are lol. still, mermaid jk works well for spoopy season too!! the next and likely last part of this drabble series will be inTEnse, so you better prepare yourself!

Part I / II / III / IIII

— summary: you had always found comfort in being at the beach, often spending hours just watching the waves lap against the shore. but unbeknowst to you – something had been watching you back.

You wake up with a gasp, your chest burning as you begin coughing up the remaining saltwater in your lungs. You stare down through bleary eyes at the pearly white sand beneath your fingers as your whole body heaves, your limbs shaking with exhaustion. You let out a choked cry as something wet laps at your toes, sending you scrambling further up the beach to escape it. The fresh water on your skin brings back memories of the night before, of how helpless and trapped you had been underwater, and how the ocean had judged you as unworthy and left you to drown – to die.

You roll onto your back, squinting up at the blue skies as you attempt to catch your breath. There’s no sign of the storm that threw you overboard, no dark ominous clouds looming on the horizon. Only an endless blue, stretching on infinitely. You groan as you push yourself up, your muscles aching and protesting as you test them all out to make sure nothing’s too badly injured. Your arms are blooming into hues of blue and yellow from where the ship knocked you around during the storm, but for a person that was thrown off the side of a ship and almost drowned, you’re surprisingly .. fine.

Maybe you have a guardian angel out there. The thought makes you snort.

You twist around, letting your gaze sweep over your surroundings. Although you can’t say it for sure just yet, you’re fairly sure you’ve washed up on a deserted island. Judging by how vast and empty the ocean is, and how untouched the beach and the vegetation behind you looks, you don’t think there’s a high chance of running into anybody else here. But even if you aren’t alone, is that really any better? You have no guarantee that the inhabitants of the island won’t just kill you on sight.

Suppressing a shudder, you try your best to will your thoughts away from all the horrible scenarios running through your mind. You'll just have to be extra alert until you’ve made sure you’re actually alone here.

Something digs sharply into your thigh as you shift your weight. You let out a gasp as you scramble to push your hand into your pocket, your fingers closing around the shell you had tucked away before the storm started. It’s still intact. You look down at it with wide eyes as you pull it out of your trousers, the crimson hue still looking as pretty as ever as you run your fingertips over the ridges. You have no idea how it managed to stay in one piece, but then again, you’re not sure how you managed to do that either.

“We must be lucky,” You mutter. You gently tuck the shell back into your pocket, dusting off the sand that’s clinging to your clothes as you gingerly get yourself up on your feet. You bury your bare feet into the cool sand, thankful that the sun hasn’t managed to warm it up just yet. There’s no sign of your shoes on the shoreline, so you think you’ll just have to resign yourself to the fact that they’re a lost cause. They probably won’t do you much good here anyway. You furrow your brows as you see something sparkle a little further down the beach, your curiosity getting the best of you as you make your way over on shaking legs. You don’t know how long you’ll be here, so you might as well indulge your whims and keep yourself entertained.

Your eyes light up in amazement as you realize what the object is; the fine layer of sand not managing to cover the sparkle properly. It’s gold. And real gold too, judging by how heavy the coin is in your hand. It doesn’t look like it’s been here for very long, so maybe it washed up along side you? You don’t think any of the other travellers were rich enough to carry it, but it’s not like it would be wise to flaunt it around either if they did have some money.

You tug at the chain around your neck, lifting the pendant up from underneath your shirt. The village crest looks almost burnt in the low sunlight, the edges turning black from the prolonged exposure to the ocean. You frown at the simple design.

Your initials are pressed into the surface alongside the name of your town, and the outline of a fish. You’ve always had an inkling that the pendant was never made from gold, that your village head was overcharging you for something you had to have to live in your village. Turns out you were right. Seeing it side by side with the real deal leaves no doubt in your mind that he’s skimming off the top for himself. If you ever get out of here, you’re going to give the village head a piece of your mind. You swallow thickly, tucking the pendant back under your shirt.

Right. If you get out of here.

Frankly, the silence on the island is unnerving. You’re used to the hustle and bustle of a busy town, and the only sound you can make out here is the waves gently crashing against a nearby cluster of rocks. It’s too silent. You can already feel the panic festering in your stomach, the emotion only growing stronger the longer you stay still to dwell on your predicament. You clutch the coin in your hand, feeling the smooth circle dig into your flesh as you tighten your hold. You’ll get out of here. But first – you’ll have to figure out how to survive.

You throw one last look at the terribly open ocean, lips pressed into a firm line as you turn your back on what will with no doubt become a horribly familiar sight. It’s with newfound determination that you start walking towards the thick vegetation, the sand underneath your feet giving away to grass the closer you get to the tree-line. You don’t need to look back to know that the vastness of the ocean is mocking you, that it doesn’t think you'll ever survive as long as it’ll take for another ship to sail past. It’s fine, you think. You’ve always had a thing for proving others wrong.

The island is surprisingly big. Judging by how high the sun has risen in the sky, and how the trees and underbrush continue to stretch on for as far as you can see, you don’t think you’ll be able to reach the other side before nightfall rolls around. It’s hard to tell, but you think it’ll likely take you around two days worth of walking to get to the other side. You let out a tired sigh as you rest against a fallen log, your feet bright red from the continuous walking. The ground is unexpectedly soft despite the variety of plants and grass growing here, but that’s probably the least curious thing about the island. There are no animals to be found here. Not even birds. Had this island only been a stretch of sand in the ocean, you wouldn’t have questioned it, but the thing is, this island is thriving. Logically, it should be bursting with some sort of wildlife. So far you’ve walked past a plethora of bushes so heavy with berries that should be able to sustain a whole array of animals.

As if that wasn’t enough, you even managed to stumble upon a deep pool of water that appeared to be fresh. Considering the island is surrounded by the ocean, by salt, it shouldn’t be possible. But somehow, it is. And that’s not even the weirdest part. The island is littered with gems and gold. You gave up hours ago on collecting them when your pockets became too heavy. You shake your head. This whole place is just bizarre, you’ve never heard of anything like this before. Jimin’s words did tickle the back of your mind, but you quickly brushed them off. There’s no way that this is the island he found, not when you still had one more week left to sail.

You push off the log, hoping to retrace your steps back to some of the more familiar looking bushes. You don’t have the luxury of being afraid of poisonous plants, not when it’s the only thing that might sustain you while you’re stuck here. Your stomach is rumbling obnoxiously by the time you make it back to the berries, and it’s with all of your self-restraint that you manage to hold back from finishing a whole bush in one go. You need to be smart and ration it so that it can last for as long as possible. You plop the last berry into your mouth, savouring the sweet taste as you begin the trek back to the beach. Despite not running into an ounce of life beside yourself, you can’t help but be vary of the parts you have yet to explore. So for now, you decide that the beach will serve as a good place to set up camp.

By the time you make it back to the beach, the sun is barely hanging on to the horizon. You squint against the fiery red, noticing a small lump resting on top of the flat rocks on the shoreline. A pang of joy travels through your body when you realize what it is you’re looking at. It’s a fish. It’s food. The fish is completely still, so the poor thing must’ve somehow jumped out of the ocean on its own. A voice in the back of your mind reminds you that the ocean is too calm, the waves to quiet, to throw the fish up on the rocks, but it’s quickly muffled by the sheer joy you feel of having something proper to eat. Who are you to question Lady Luck’s kindness after all?

You just count yourself lucky that you at least learned how to light a fire with minimal resources when you were younger. Once the fish is roasted and resting in your filled belly, it’s time to tuck in for the night.

You lay down as close to the fire as you dare, mindful to keep enough distance that any stray sparks won’t catch on your clothes. The island has grown chilly alongside the arrival of the moon, so you’re thankful for the extra warmth the fire provides. You empty out all the little treasures you collected into a neat pile, placing the crimson shell carefully on top of it. It’s strangely comforting to look at the flames dancing across the scalloped ridges, the gems and gold glittering in the low light. You keep watching until your eyes grow too heavy, exhaustion finally pulling you under into a deep sleep.

It’s been three days, and the fish keeps appearing on the rocks like clockwork. You’ve taken to exploring the thick vegetation during the day, but there’s always a new fish waiting for you when you return to the beach. You would call the whole thing weird, but you’ve come to understand that most things on this island are. So, you quickly stop questioning it. But you shouldn’t have. That was your first mistake.

You shove a branch out of your way with a little more force than necessary, huffing in annoyance as you trek on deeper into the greenery. You’ve started to lose hope that you’ll ever get saved. You’ve run through every possible scenario in your head hundreds of times, but the heavy feeling in your gut tells you that it would only be foolish to hope. You’re not even sure that anybody knows that you’re missing.

“There you are,” You grumble under your breath as you finally spot the pool of fresh water, the large pond surrounded by beautiful orange flowers. You sink down to your knees in front of the body of water, eagerly scooping up the cold liquid to quench the dryness in your throat. The water is clear enough that you can make out the smooth stone lining the pond, but not enough that you can gauge just how deep it really is. The bottom is too dark, almost pitch black, and it always sends a shiver down your spine when you stare into it for too long. You’re about to take another sip when you swear you see a flash of red zoom past, your hands freezing above the water's surface. What if there’s something lurking down there?

Your eyes search frantically around the pond for another glimpse, but there’s nothing. You shake yourself out of your thoughts, scoffing at your own stupidity. It’s likely just another gemstone reflecting the light back up from the depths of the pool, nothing more and nothing less. You ignore the weak tremble in your hands as you rise back to your feet, your steps a little more hurried than usual as you begin the trek back to your beach. You must be starting to lose your mind.

When you return to the beach, there’s no fish waiting for you. You shrug it off easily, chalking it up to your luck finally running out. It was probably just a strong current that dragged some unsuspecting fish close to the island, and had enough force to throw them up on the rocks. Probably. It sounds plausible enough. With the absence of the fish, you just thank your past self for already having eaten some berries on your walk back, so that you won’t have to go to sleep hungry.

As morning rolls around, there isn’t a fish that catches your attention, but rather something else. Resting on the rocks is a massive pearl, the sphere so large your thumb and middle finger barely manage to meet when wrapped around it. The colour is mesmerizing. You roll the pearl around in your hands, watching as the deep red colour shifts into lighter and darker hues as you move it around. Come to think of it, haven’t you seen this exact colour before? You sprint up the beach to your little pile of treasures, carefully holding up the shell next to the pearl. They’re identical.

Your brows furrow in confusion as you twist and turn them around. How can a shell you picked up in your village match a pearl found over a week’s travel away? That’s impossible. You gently place both of them down on the ground, nibbling on your bottom lip as you turn around to face the ocean. A ripple in the surface catches your attention, but it’s too far out for you to see what could’ve caused it. A fish, you decide. That’s the only thing it can be after all. You sink down into the sand, running your fingertips along the smooth surface. It’s a pretty pearl – and you decide you’re going to cherish it just as much as your shell.

That's your second mistake.

After you pick up the pearl, the fish miraculously return. In the following days there’s an abundance of fish greeting you on the rocks, some even showing up before you wake up. You can’t remember the last time you were so well fed. Not even your life back in the village kept you this sated every day. Maybe your fleeting luck has returned. Slowly, the days begin blending together as you keep exploring, picking up little treasures along the way and adding them to your ever-growing pile at the beach. It’s not much, but it’s keeping you sane.

You poke at the blazing bonfire in front of you, making sure that the fire is burning steadily before you venture down to the shoreline. Little gems keep washing up every now and again, so you’ve made it your nightly routine to go pick up those you can find. You halt as you reach the flat rocks nestled between the beach and the ocean, another ripple in the quiet surface a little further out making you curious.

Your third mistake.

You walk carefully over to the edge of the rock, peering down into the dark water. Dusk has started to settle in, but the last rays of light clinging on to the horizon are enough for you to notice something bright underwater. It looks like it’s leaning on a ledge in the rock, the item long and pale. You can’t really make out what it is – a long shell maybe? – but since you’ve already committed to picking up everything around the island, you might as well retrieve this too.

You get down on your knees, one hand curling around the edge of the rock for support as you lower your other arm into the cool water. You frown as fingers only graze over the top, not quite managing to reach it. Your arm is already drenched, so you figure it doesn’t matter if the rest of your blouse gets a little wet too. The fire will dry it quickly enough.

You lower your body further, your face nearly flush with the ocean as the last little push finally lets your hand finally close around the item. You smile, starting to pull yourself back up when something slimy wraps around your wrist, a harsh tug forcing your upper body down under water before you can even think to catch your breath.

Your eyes open in shock as the cold water suddenly surrounds you, and you swear you heart stops as the bubbles settle enough for you to see the creature in front of you. It has a human face, a handsome face, with long dark locks framing it, but the pupils in its eyes are unnaturally wide and blood red – and you can see your own terrified expression reflected back in them. Your eyes fly over the exposed skin of the creature’s torso and arms, your still heart dropping to your stomach as you notice that its skin starts transitioning into crimson scales around its hips, and that there’s a fucking tail where its legs should be. The pressure around your wrist tightens, and you snap your attention back to the creature’s face just as it opens its jaw to let out a series of clicking noises. It barely parts its lips, but it's enough for you to see the rows of sharp pointed teeth lining the inside of its mouth, a forked tongue moving around as it speaks. It’s a man, but it’s also not– it’s .. it’s a monster.

Your heart finally jumpstarts as your lungs begin to burn from the lack of oxygen, adrenaline shooting through your veins as you begin trying to pull yourself back up to the surface. The creature’s face seems to grow confused at your sudden struggle, another series of clicking noises leaving its mouth. A webbed hand comes into your line of sight, clawed fingertips reaching out towards your face. You’re sure your face will be mauled if they come in contact with your skin, so with newfound vigour, you finally find the last push of strength you need to rip yourself away from the hold around your wrist.

At the first breath of air, you scramble away from the edge of the rock, your trembling legs stumbling and folding underneath you as you race up the beach. You collapse against the sand besides your bonfire, barely hearing your own ragged breathing over the blood pumping in your ears. Your whole body freezes up in panic as you watch the creature’s head pop up over the edge of the rock, blood red eyes finding yours immediately. The low clicks that fill the air makes the back of your neck feel tight, your skin prickling in terror at how the noises seem like a warning. You don't dare move your eyes away until the creature sinks back down into the ocean, and out of view. You don’t know how long you stay there, warm tears streaming down your cheeks as you silently stare out at the calm water. You’ll never get away if that creature is out there.

It’s only when you’re sure that the creature is gone that you allow your attention to shift downwards, to the item still secured tightly in your grasp. You slowly open your hand to study it, eyes growing wide as you realize what it is.

A human jaw.

Choked sobs rip through your chest as you fling it into the bonfire, the smooth white surface even brighter in the midst of the flames. You furiously rub your hand on the fabric of your trousers, your stomach turning as the fire crackles louder around the bone. The gems, the fish, the bones, they wouldn’t have just ended up here alone. That creature must have brought it all here. It must have brought you here.

It dawns on you that you haven’t been lucky at all, no, instead you’ve only been surviving because the creature has wanted you to. Your fate is in the hands of a monster – one that seems furious that you ran away from it.

“Fuck,” you whimper pitifully, burrowing your head into your shaking hands. You have a feeling your time might be up.

a/n: hope you enjoyed the second part to the crimson shell! i would really appreciate a comment/reblog if you did! the next chapter will be the most spicy? disturbing? whatever you want to call it hhh. (ps. i’m not doing a tag list for this mini series!) as always, see you all soon and stay safe! and in case you enjoy my stories and want to buy me a coffee, you can do so here! 💖

#mermaid bts #mermaid au #yandere bts #yandere jungkook #mermaid jungkook #jungkook x reader #bts x reader #yandere au #yandere x reader #yandere mermaid #bts au #bts fanfic

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pieces-by-me · 3 years

Text

Dying to Breath

This is my part to @geekandbooknerd 2k writing challenge! Again CONGRATULATIONS!! This I such huge thing and I’m so happy for you, because it is truly well deserved and I can’t wait to see where you'll go from here 🌼

Words: 2467

Warnings: Feelings of drowning? Giving up. Hopelessness, but also fluff I swear.

Summary: Ivar knew he would meet his end. Drowning while bound to a mast. But the sea had other plans for him.

Prompt:

“I’m oxygen and he’s dying to breath” (I used slightly a slightly different version of this but it’s still in here.)

Waves crashing, rain beating on skin, wind ripping one apart.

For an instant Ivar wished he listened to his mothers words. Because at this moment he sees his own death playing out right before him. Tied up to the mast of the boat he can look past his father to the gigantic waves that build up before them. Bigger and bigger they take up the sky. And he screams.

Pain, fear, anger, hopelessness and misery all in one deafening scream that threatens to rip his throat apart. He can do nothing but watch. Nothing but wait for his death. Nothing but let the gods see him drown and laugh at him, because why should he get to go to Valhalla with a miserable death like this.

Ragnar turns around and sees the desperation in his sons eyes. He will be responsible for his death. The gods are finally done with him and they are going to take his son with him. The one he needs the most, the one that was the most important for his mission. His youngest son that didn't see the world yet.

Walking towards him Ragnar put his hand over Ivar's mouth, silencing the scream.

“Don't be afraid.” He doesn't say the words but Ivar can read them in his fathers eyes.

And so he doesn't scream. He just looks at the wave that will crash all of them and ignores the tear that slowly falls down his face. The rain from the storm masks it perfectly so he can pretend to be brave. If for one moment in his life he needs to be it, this is it. Maybe the gods will open their golden hall for him then.

So he does nothing and the wave crashed over them. Turning the boat with a power that challenges every force in Midgard. People fall overboard. Screaming for their life. They know it will do them nothing to help. Planks breaking apart as if the mighty ship was just a stick. And finally the mast breaks, the mast Ivar is so helplessly tied to. Curse Ragnar for this. This was not the way it was supposed to be. But then his mother warned him, so maybe it was.

Water pressed inside his ears. Making him hear a ringing that wasn't there. The salt burnt his eyes but he tried his best to keep them open. His hand desperately trying to undo his fathers knots but it was no use. They were to tight.

Through the haze of the water Ivar could see his father swim down and towards him. He was sinking. The measly metal constructions on his legs and the mast soaking up with water brought him closer and closer to the bottom of the ocean.

His ears getting worse by the second and he knew that Ragnar would feel the same, but still he did not give up on Ivar's bondage. But the air would run out sooner or later and the knot would not budge.

Ivar tried to show his father to save himself, but how can you do that when you can't speak or move. He had to see his father struggle all the while neither had much air in their lungs left. His father never looked so miserable and that brought Ivar a strange sense of pride. He did not do a lot in his life. How could he. But at least he brought Ragnar Lothbrok, the greatest of all the Vikings, misery beyond belief. At least that was something Ivar the Boneless could live with.

Ragnar, being older, ran out of air before his son. And even though he truly didn't want to leave him in this wet grave he had to get air. His body forced him to push away and up. With his movements he desperately tried to carry Ivar and the mast with him, yet it was no use. It was all to heavy for his broken body. And after a heavy tug Ivar slipped out of his fingers and deeper into the water.

Ivar didn't quite see when it happened but suddenly his father was gone and he knew we would be soon too. If his body was not surrounded by water he would have screamed and cursed every living thing in this world. But his air run out slowly and even if his body did not want to give up he saw the edges of his eyes turn dark. His legs, funnily enough, where the things that brought him the least amount of pain in this moment. No it was his chest.

A pressure so big he felt his body would break into two and crumble in on itself all the same time was all he could feel. It was maddening. Feeling like a caged animal, tapped inside the tiniest cage, even though nothing but the wide ocean held him back. He felt himself slipping. Giving up. And the worst part, he lost all sense of caring for it.

Even his eyes played tricks on him. How else should he explain to himself that water moving in irregular shapes right before him. It was as if smaller waves were twirling before him. Almost dancing. As if something was there. Someone. Ivar heard about Selkies. Merfolk that looked like seals but could shed their fur and become human if they wanted. But there was no seal in front of him. No it was just water dancing.

Slowly the moving water took shape of a arm. And then a hand. Stomach, shoulder, neck and head. Legs that went longer then human, until it reached feet and soon a person was floating before him. Hair that would glide through the currents as if it was guided by wind. A person made out of water. A women clearly there yet translucent to the eye. Eyes so cold they looked like molten silver. Hel must be close to taking him if his eyes played such tricks with him.

But then he not only saw but also heard something. A voice. Clear as the echos on the mountains. It sounded like nothing he heard before. A language that was not meant to be heard by humans. It sounded like birds flying though the air singing their songs. Nothing not even his air deprived brain could come up with something like that. And with the singing came another figure right before his eyes. This time a man.

Blackness made itself known around Ivar's eyes more and more and he knew he would be out of air soon. The water people circled around him. Looking at him as if they never have seen something like him. The women came closer while the men vanished into nothing but droplets and foam. Stretching her hands out towards his face. And even though he knew that he could not go anywhere he flinched away from this mysterious touch.

That did not discourage her though, as she just did it again. This time with success. She was warmer then the water around him and it brought Ivar a sense of peace. He could die here and the warm hands of this entity would sooth him on the way there. Maybe she was a helper of Hel, here to take him. But all of that vanished as he felt her lips on his and with that air entering his lungs again. Gasping into her and deepening as far as his bound body could go like his life depended on it, because it did, he stretched closer to her.

He had air again. His chest did not threaten to burst. His ears did not ring anymore. He felt weightless. Almost free. If he were on land there would be tears running down his face again. This time not out of agony but euphoria.

She still held his face in between her hands. Never letting go as her lips left his. He called for her to come back but nothing but bubbles left his mouth. So instantly he closed them again. All this must have amused her, for she laughed. A sound so magnificent he was transfixed. She looked at him as if she found an animal in the wild and was trying to decide if she should keep it. She must have found an answer because after seconds her hands left his face and she vanished just like the man.

Panic made itself known inside Ivar. But as soon as she vanished she appeared behind him again. He could feel her hands on his arms. Or more the warmth that spread there. He could not see what she did but after a while his arms were free. She freed him.

Ivar felt her arms encircle his torso and, with a strength he did not see coming, she made her way to the surface. All the while still holding him. His hands found her arm and it was strange. He could see only water that was faintly outlined by foam and light. But he felt it resisting at his touch. He could see through but not feel though her body. It was a miracle, he was sure of it.

The first breath of real air he felt as they broke through the surface was the best feeling he ever felt. Maybe close behind to the kiss he got from the being he was still in the arms of. Nevertheless it was like getting his life back with every breath he took. Clutching on the being he realized that she was now in front of him again. Looking at him as if he was the weirdest thing in the world. A smile adorned her face and it was so beautiful he knew the gods made it. She let him hug her for awhile all the while she looked at him and held him back. He felt save for the first time on the ocean.

She swam with ease. The waves that still rolled over the ocean, even if they were not so big now, did not matter to her. She found a piece of Ragnar's boat and brought Ivar to it.

'Ragnar. What happened to father.'

“My father! Where is he!” His voice was scratching and he needed three tries to get all the words out. But it didn't matter. He needed his father.

The woman looked at him and then behind him. Pointed with a tender movement behind him and Ivar turned around.

Land. He saw land. Nothing made him feel more contend. Maybe the sight of his father alive and well could make it even better. And it became better. With every stoke she took he got closer to land and closer to tiny specs of rubble. Like ants laying in the sand he could see pieces of their boat and people lying about. Ivar turned his face back to the women.

He could look at this land all he wanted but he knew she would leave soon. She was beauty personified. Flawless and pure and so enigmatic in what she even was that Ivar did truly not know. Never had he heard or seen of a being like her and the man.

The sun rose slowly over the horizon and the beams reflected inside of her as if she was made out of pure light, instead of water. And they were closer to the shore. SO close that Ivar could see his father lying in the sand. Eyes turned to the lightening sky.

He could feel that she slowed down and was about to push away from the makeshift boat when he took her hand in his. Startling her for a second before their eyes met again. A smile replaces her panicked look and she waited for him to make the next move.

But what was his next move? He just didn't want her to go yet. With a voice so small as if it came form a small boy he finally found words to say. But even though the words sounded small they held unimaginable amounts of gratitude in them

“You saved me.”

She did not answer. Ivar didn't even know if she understood a word he said. Maybe she only spoke in her voice that sounded of strange singing birds. But still he had to try.

“Why?”

A long pause followed. Still she did not utter a single word. But she did also not look away and in her eyes Ivar could see understanding. After anther pause that felt to him endless she spoke to him.

“I am air and you were dying to breath. You have something in your eyes that I did not want to see go out.”

Her hand found his left cheek again and with a push she was closer to his eyes, placing her lips on his right cheek. Letting a simple, small kiss linger on his skin and went back to the water so that only her head was out of the water.

“Farewell”

And with that she pushed him closer to the shore and dove back into the deep see. Gone just as simple as she came. His hand lingered on his right cheek, the warmth of her lips were still tingling on his skin. He was so fixated on the ocean waves that he didn't realize that the plank was now stranding the beach. The only thing that brought him out of his trance was the scratching voice of his father.

“IVAR” Distress but also the utter most relief was heard in Ragnar's voice.

“Oh my son.�� He threw his arms around the boy and kissed his hair. Never was he so happy to have someone else back in his arms. “I thought you were lost in the sea. I dove back under but I could not find you and the stream would not let me away, as if I was carried by something that wasn't there to land.”

'The man. The one that vanished.' Ivar thought,

“How did you get free? How did you survive.?”

Ragnar's eyes searched Ivar's with so much emotion, tears sprung in them. A pure display of joy and relieve.

Ivar's gaze left the one of his father's and he looked back out to the sea. The sun now being higher then before and the glistening waves seemed to be waving at him goodby.

“The sea saved me.”

It was all he could say. Because she did.

Ragnar did not know what he should do with that but he didn't care. He had his son back and he didn't let him go for a while. Still holding him in his arms kissing his hair and thanking the gods that they brought him back his youngest.

He could still fulfill his plan.

____________________

Let me know what you guys thought by leaving me a comment! And I hope you have a lovely night✨

Tag: @youbloodymadgenius @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie

#hayleys2k #history vikings #vikings #vikings ivar #vikings imagine #ivar the boneless #ivar the boneless imagine #ivar ragnarsson #ivar lothbrok #ivar x reader #ivar the boneless x reader #ivar imagine #ivar fanfic

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shewastheheart · 3 years

Text

A/N: Absolutely AU.

She thought her nerves would be rioting in her stomach, her heartbeat picking up the closer she drew to the edge of the cliff, the edge of her life. But that's what has finally led her here, isn't it? The lack of feeling?

Her son is gone; the home of her body emptied of his presence, her arms too. There's nothing left, nothing to live for.

She's left her home, her family, her abuser. Ran away with the naive idea that she and her newborn child would have a new life together, a fresh start.

She was a fool. How could she ever believe that a new life was meant for her?

Her eyes sting, but the tears don't come. She thinks she's emptied of those too.

Esme takes another step forward, the wind whispering along her neck, coaxing her forward, the waves calling her to join in their crash against the rocks below.

This life was never meant for her, she knows that now.

The breath shudders past her chapped lips.

This was inevitable.

She's balancing on the true edge now, all she has to do is lean forward. Her bare toes flex in the grass for one last time, her heart accelerating ever so slightly as she finally lets go and falls forward.

One moment she's falling and the next, she is not.

Esme's eyes flutter open, her brow furrowing at the grey sky above, the sound of waves still all around. Something is holding her, a cool embrace carrying her.

"I didn't even feel it," she mumbles, glancing up to see what has her. Only to realize it is a who. "Dr. Cullen?"

She remembers him vividly from her youth, those beautiful golden eyes, the perfectly combed blond hair, the compassion that radiates from his very presence.

She has always struggled with her belief in God, but if this is her escort to the afterlife, she has to say she appreciates His thoughtfulness. Her childhood doctor from a decade ago is as close to angels as she ever came.

But her guardian angel... he doesn't look happy with her at all.

"What were you doing?" he whispers. The clutch of his hands under her knees, at her shoulder, where he's carrying her, tightens. "Why would you... what were you thinking?"

Suddenly, she is struck by the idea that maybe she is not yet dead after all.

"Did you save me?" Esme hisses, eyes tearing from his gaze to look around them. They're standing on a cluster of rocks amidst the ocean, beneath the cliff. Where she was supposed to land. "How did you... why?"

She looks back at him, torn between the urge to sob and smack him.

"Why?" he questions incredulously. "Ms. Platt-"

"You remember me?" she cuts in, shaking her head and shifting in his grasp.

He quickly sets her on her own two feet. An involuntary shiver wracks her bones as her bare toes touch the frigid surface of the rock, the chilled spray of the waves licking at her calves.

"Of course, I remember you, I - you were my patient."

"Ten years ago," she argues, gripping his waist when her knees threaten to give out as the leftover adrenaline floods through her. "Dr. Cullen, I-" The tears do come now. What has he done? How could this have happened? "You can't, this isn't - please, god, please" she chokes out. "Let me die."

She bows her head, letting it come into contact with his chest. The idea of continuing on, of living with it, with everything... she can't.

"Shh, Esme, please," he whispers and she realizes she's sobbing, ugly and painfully into the sweater against her forehead. "I couldn't. I couldn't. I'm so sorry."

His hand gently touches the back of her head, skimming deft fingers through her tangled hair. Her body threatens to shudder at the touch, jerk away from it, but... it's the first time in so long that someone has treated her with such care, such gentleness. With something that promises he won't hurt her.

Carlisle didn't think about the next move, what to do after he saved her.

She cries herself into silence, her face red and her eyes swollen. Numbed. She remains leaning against him, a series of small tremors rippling through her body every few seconds.

"Ms. Platt," he calls to her, scared to move, to spook her. "Is there somewhere I can take you? I... we're a bit of a long way from Ohio, do you have family here now?"

Her breath catches, her chest shuddering as she shakes her head.

"No," she rasps, barely audible above the crash of the waves around her. He really needs to get her back on dry land, away from the waters and the god-forsaken cliff she tried to jump from. "He's gone."

"He?" Carlisle repeats softly.

Esme lifts her head, her cheeks tear-stained and her lips still trembling. "My son, Dr. Cullen. I... I just had a baby and he didn't make it. I couldn't even save my baby."

Her shoulders collapse and she wraps her arms around herself, trying to keep the shudders of her body contained.

If he had a heart, he thinks it would have stuttered in his chest, cracked for her.

"Oh, Esme," he exhales, relishing the rare sound of her name in his mouth. "I'm so sorry... let me get you out of here. Let me take you somewhere safe and you can tell me more about all that has happened."

"Safe?" she echoes, a feral spark of something dark registering in her gaze. "Charles."

Her spine stiffens and she instinctively moves closer to Carlisle. She's afraid, he notes, afraid of this Charles person.

"No one is going to hurt you," he swears, but there is more than mere comfort in the words. He means it.

Esme blinks and shifts her attention once more to his face, but this time, it's as if she's truly seeing him for the first time. Her brow creases, confusion tugging at the corners of her mouth.

"How can this be real? How... could you have possibly-" Her head tilts back, eyes flicking from the cliff above their heads and back to him again. "How could you have stopped me?"

He doesn't know how to answer, how to possibly begin to cover the truth.

He doesn't really want to.

Carlisle carefully takes one of her hands in his own, squeezing it with the most minuscule portion of his strength.

"I'll show you, but you have to trust me. I know it's asking so much-"

"I do," she interrupts, those glassy eyes staring up at him with far more trust than he's ever deserved. Her brow furrows a little, as if the concept is simple. "I trusted you then, I trust you now."

"Then hold on."

Esme is still clinging to his neck even though they've been back on the ground for at least five minutes now.

"I'm so sorry I've frightened you," Doctor Cullen tells her for what has to be the third time, but sounding no less earnest.

After he picked her up and practically flew from the outcropping of rocks amidst the sea, rising from the surface of the ocean's edge to the dry land up above, he had carried her to a nearby fallen tree, gingerly placed her to sit upon the trunk. It's how they've remained in the last few minutes, with his mouth murmuring a stream of apologies and his body leaning over hers, bowed by the latch of her arms, but not seeming to be taxed by the position.

She is supposed to be dead, broken like waves against the rocks and carried out to sea. Instead, she is sitting with a man with... with what? Superhuman abilities? A devil in disguise of a beautiful man?

"What are you?" she finally manages to ask, pushing past the stiffness in her arms to relinquish their hold.

Doctor Cullen bows his head, his eyes falling closed as if in prayer.

"I'm afraid that it may come as an even greater fright to you."

She swallows hard. "You do not seem to mean me any harm. Unless you have only saved my life to torture me further."

His head lifts immediately, his eyes stricken as they land upon her. "No, never. I may be a monster, but I couldn't... my intention could never be to hurt you."

The intensity has her taken aback, but she holds his gaze. "A monster?"

It certainly isn't a word she would have associated with the soft-spoken doctor beside her. She can still remember with clarity the way in which he treated her ten years ago, with delicate hands and a genuine smile, eyes that held hers for a moment too long.

She never managed to forget him, more than likely because Charles made her wish even more for the first man to ever make her heart skip. She could never help thinking how she wished it had been him she exchanged vows with. Esme always managed to convince herself that Doctor Cullen would have healed her wounds, not bestowed more upon her.

"I am sure you have heard certain myths, legends of immortal creatures?" he begins, lowering to sit near her, leaving a large gap of space between them.

Esme nods, childish tales of magical sea creatures and monsters under the cloak of darkness in the woods flittering across her brain. "Some."

He twines his hands together between his knees. "What about vampires?"

It takes a moment for the correlation to register, what he's trying to tell her.

"I am... impossibly fast, incredibly strong. There is little in this world that could truly hurt - let alone kill - me," Doctor Cullen continues. "I'm dangerous and it would serve you best to stay far away from me."

Her head is spinning so fast that she has to squeeze her eyes shut, nearly buries her face in her hands, but wait-

"Stay away from you?" she repeats, meeting his forlorn expression staring back at her. As if waiting for her to react with the utmost amount of fear and hatred towards him.

And perhaps she should, if what he is saying is true and not some post suicide hallucination of hers. If her former doctor is actually a vampire.

"I do not... feed on humans," he tells her quickly. "I survive only on the blood of animals, but I am aware it does not change who I am, what I am. I could never expect-"

"I know you won't hurt me," she breathes, her swollen eyes feeling heavy, her entire body weighed down by exhaustion and a fresh wave of despair. "Can you take me to the place you spoke of, to safety?"

"Of course," he answers, rising in what feels like a flash. "And Esme?"

Before she realizes what is happening, he is easing his arms beneath her legs, the curve of her spine, and carrying her bridal style against him once more.

She hums in response, giving up on the idea of remaining conscious any longer and leaning into the wall of his chest against her cheek instead.

"Please, call me Carlisle."

Her lips quirk. This has been quite a lovely dream.

To continue with the full story that will follow this first chapter, I hope you’ll consider finding this little story on FFnet. :)

#twilight fanfiction #esme cullen #carlisle cullen #carlisle x esme #esme x carlisle #carlesme #twilight #fanfiction #my writing #lover of mine

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duskwalkertfp · 2 years

Text

Ocean Planet Previous

Toes gripped and shifted on the edge of the tide pool. Duskwalker stretched her neck out, trying to see past the glare on the surface of the water. Or at least see down into the depths via her own shadow. Duskwalker thought she’d caught a flash of something shiny…

… something shiny? Really? In a pool of water, with fish, and other scaled creatures? And she was surprised that something shiny flashed in the –

A cold, wet, and surprisingly soft something pressed against the nose of her alt mode. Duskwalker had a split moment to smell brine, metal, and sweets… sweets? Energon goodies? It took a fraction of a second for Duskwalker to process the touch to her nose, the scent, and the fact something had popped up out of the tide pool she hadn’t seen, and in the remaining fraction of a second Duskwalker was up, in the air, leaping backwards, and coming down on all fours with an embarrassing yowl of surprise.

She quickly swallowed what little was left of that yowl, shaking herself off, but remaining crouched on all fours. Her optics were wide with surprise; she hadn’t expected to find something this large in one of these tide pools, no matter how big and deep some of them were.

Duskwalker flicked her tail, and twitched her ears back and forth. She slowly stretched her neck up and out towards the tide pool and the gray creature that had popped out. She sniffed at the air, her mouth slightly open, but nothing in her memory could tell her what she was seeing.

Tipping her head to the side, Duskwalker snorted air back out from her nose, clearing her olfactory array of the salt she’d picked up so far. She would have to clean her filters when she returned to the ship, or replace them. She was about due for a replacement anyway.

Paws kneaded on the rock. Duskwalker’s head dipped up and down as she considered taking a few steps back towards the tide pool.

If it was dangerous, it would have attacked her the moment it swam to the surface, but there was also a little suspicion. She’d smelled metal and something sweet, like energon goodies, or jellies? Maybe jellies. She wasn’t positive. Duskwalker almost never had sweets. She already had to take her energon with several additives to support her health.

Duskwalker shook herself, distracted for a moment trying to puzzle out the scent. What troubled her was that she’d come to this planet to provide aid to anyone left behind. There was supposed to have been a battle here, but she’d found no evidence… until now? She wasn’t sure.

Tipping her head to the side, she just wasn’t sure what the game plan should be. She’d never met any Cybertronian fauna, but supposedly there was meant to be colony worlds out in the greater cosmos, was this planet one of them? Or had it been? Was she looking at a native, or a native animal?

Funny to be on the giving end of assumptions. Most people saw her and thought she was some creature brought from Cybertron as a companion animal. At least when they saw her at a distance. Still, to be safe she closed up all her biolights, including the ones that outlined the spark-pulse sigils on her shoulders signifying her as a medic-class.

Now, what to do?

#Ocean Planet RP #seacrestseacon #Sea Squaddies Caspian #Time for adorable body language between kitty and seal pup #I take no responsibility for rotten teeth #It's Seacrestseacon's fault

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gospelofme · 3 years

Text

57 Thoughts I Had While Watching Part 2 of The Bad Batch Season Finale (Spoilers ahead!!)

I do like how Part 2 picks right up where Part 1 left off. I prefer that method since it makes it feel like one connected piece. Like how Rogue One ended where A New Hope kicks off.

Ya know, I wouldn’t mind the thunderstorms.

Okay the explosions are beautifully animated. The blues, the sparks, the orange flames. And I like how they’re realistically placed. So many shows with explosions don’t have them right close to the characters, even if they’re supposed to be all around them.

This episode is kinda darkly lit. Not like Battle of Winterfell in Game of Thrones.

Okay yeah, that clone reporting the destruction…thats some sadness there.

That inner alarm has me thinking “oh shit my flight has changed gates again hasn’t it!!”

Damn, imagine being unconscious and wake up in a flooding compartment with a droid and that one kid who took your place.

Okay how strong is that knife. I kinda expect it to break in half. Wrecker would

probably try to trade with Hunter after that.

The shot of the burning buildings on the water is so beautiful too. The reflections were well done.

About AZ being like “oh hey homie, you survived being blown up but now you’re drowning. And I’m watching while this literal child tries to move metal debris off of you.”

Okay Omega using her bow like that is genius. But please wee baby don’t hit Crosshair by accident. And the way the bolts underwater were animated. 🤌🏻🤌🏻

And Crosshair being all “wtf?!”

Dang Omega is so take charge here.

Okay the sprays of water from the door is so well done. And omg they just pop outta there lmao!!!! About how Omega is caught and they just let Crosshair slide on the floor.

Haha Crosshair being like “Hunter, you fucker did you break something?!”

I really wish it wasn’t so darkly lit, but it does bring a sense of realism. The power is out, so what we’re able to see is what the characters are able to see with flashlights. Plus I’m sure this would look different on my TV than iPad.

The music is so pretty, so emotional. Oh damn poor AZ.

Oh never mind. He’s good.

Crosshair quit being a poop and follow them please.

Echo and that smell lmao.

“Blind allegiance makes you a pawn. A real leader protects his squad.”

Huh. Interesting. But isn’t blind allegiance what the clones had in the Republic? Isn’t that what Clone Force 99 had in the Republic? At least mostly. Some clones didn’t have that obviously, like Cut.

Ooohh Crosshair’s expression when Hunter knocked his shoulder. That seemed like surprise. There is something to that.

Hmmmmmm I’m with Crosshair on that. Going through a glass tunnel with cracks in it hundreds of feet below the surface would be a no from me. Also, what about water pressure? Is that not a thing there? Like wouldn’t you get a massive headache traveling through that? Or maybe not….idk.

Oh fuck Wrecker letting Crosshair know what’s what. I do like that he’s finally expressing how he feels. I’ve always thought there was more of a brotherly relationship between Wrecker and Crosshair than Crosshair had with the others. And Wrecker has a point, Crosshair didn’t even try to come back to them. Of course that really isn’t a fair statement either I guess. Wrecker should remember how he couldn’t control what he did when his chip kicked on.

And Tech jumping in and saying that Crosshair has always been “severe and unyielding” is a good way to let us know a bit more of what’s normal behavior for Crosshair. I like how he’s reminded Wrecker that some things Crosshair can’t help due to just how he is (likely a byproduct of the enhancement experiments).

“Understanding you does not mean I agree with you.” Ugh if only more people had this mindset. Also, the whole “why are you defending me?” sounds like Tech doesn’t usually leap to Crosshair’s defense (even though that’s not what he’s doing here). Which further makes me think that the brotherly relationship that usually exists between team members (like Domino squad eventually, Rex/Echo/Fives/Kix/Jesse/Hardcase/Tup) doesn’t exist here between all the guys. It’s more sporadic. Crosshair seems to get along better with Wrecker (in their own way, teasing and their droid death counts) than he does with Tech.

Also perhaps they should not stop so often…ya know, just in case the tunnel implodes.

Oh nope nope nope. No underwater tubes and sea monsters for Bethany.

AZ is so peppy. Like he sounds so positive when relaying bad news. He sounds like the kinda droid that would be like “good news is you have great cholesterol, bad news is you have cancer. But yay no diabetes!”

Oh yeah I kinda forgot Hunter wasn’t with them they first got to the private lab. And oh damn, Omega is technically older than them. The whole accelerated aging thing is just so unfair.

Well we really couldn’t expect a glass tunnel to fully survive aerial bombardment. Better start swimming fuckers!!

Damn, someone find AZ a charger! I bet Tech has one for his datapad that boy is attached too. He seems like the type to never be without a phone charger. He also seems like the type to not want to share it because no one else in the squad treats their charge cords with respect.

Dad gum Crosshair, I didn’t hear you spouting off any bright ideas. Geez, who peed in your wheaties?!

Hunter takes things too personally?! Weren’t you being all Salty McSourpus over Hunter leaving your ass on Kamino for shooting at him and the others? Were you not taking that too personally? But kudos to Hunter for reminding him the Empire peaced the fuck out and left him to die on Kamino. Although…Crosshair does sound like he’s trying not to care about that. Like it does bother him but he’s acting like he don’t give a fuck.

“The Empire will control the entire Galaxy. And I’m going to be a part of it.” Uhm, sir…you’re currently in a secret lab at the bottom of the ocean with no means of escape right now. How do you plan to be a part of the Empire from down here? Like, are you going to establish the underwater branch of the Empire and assert the Emperor’s control over the sea critters?

Ugh Omega trying so hard to bond with Crosshair. Like the parallel between this scene and the holding cell scene. And her thinking she was wrong about the chip making him behave like a dick. Oh sweet baby, you’re not wrong. He still has that thing. But he has always been a dick per Tech’s words earlier. But she’s trying so hard to show him the similarities between them.

I’ve noticed Crosshair does a lot of pushing people away. Like he’s been doing that with Hunter and Omega this whole season. Speaking harshly to them both (although I think some of the things he says to Hunter, he’s always wanted to say). But I think it’s more that he wants to avoid disappointing them, so he shoves them away to prevent that feeling. Like perhaps he thinks he isn’t worthy to be around them, that they’ll be better off without him around.

Oh fuck, look at you contributing now Mr. I Am Going To Complain About Other People’s Ideas.

Did they have to draw straws to see who got their own pod and who had to team up with who? Like,

Hunter: “Someone has to go with Tech.”

Crosshair, Wrecker: “Not it!”

Echo: “not it, fuck I wasn’t fast enough.”

Oh the wee child is getting her own pod. Okay then.

Of course Hunter and Crosshair get doubled up. I bet they argue the whole time.

Crosshair: “stop breathing all the air!!”

Hunter: “stop standing on my foot!!”

Crosshair: “well it’s not my fault you have Sasquatch feet!”

Oh damn. Well bye Omega. It was nice knowing you. Crosshair probably has your eulogy already written.

Hm, so Tech never shared his datapad charge cord with AZ. Bummer.

Awww poor AZ. He was a good droid. We’ll remember how he OMG OMEGA WHAT THE FUCK?!!???

Again is water pressure not a thing in Star Wars?

Sweetie. He’s metal. You won’t be strong enough to pull him along with you.

Oh fuck Crosshair! Oh damn the look on his face is like “Hunter, get you ugly ass face out of my shot.” Oh damn, boy has got some good eyesight, I want a piece of that.

Bruh, that’s gotta hurt. You just saved the kid they all love and they got you at blaster point. Buuuuuut at the same time you haven’t expressed the most positive attitude towards said kid either. So maybe they have a good reason to think you’d shoot her? Still. Damn. That’s gotta hurt, since if it had been the good ol’ days they’d be like “nice shot buddy!”

Hunter looks more wary than upset honestly. Like he isn’t sure why Crosshair did that, but he’s not sure if Crosshair would want him expressing gratitude either. Hunter doesn’t seem to know how to treat him any more. Crosshair belittles him and speaks harshly to him, but then saves Omega. It’s almost like old Crosshair is still in there, knowing how attached the team is to Omega. Even if he does think she’s not in the safest environment with them.

Oh…omg what is this?! I just noticed, no rain on Kamino….AND SUNSHINE?! Like is that a fucking sunrise??!!?? Oh shit you guys there is symbolism here!!! Like a new start or something impossible has happened. Like there has never been sunshine on Kamino, it’s always stormed. Always. Always and forever it has done that. But after the destruction of Tipoca City, the rains cease and the sunshine comes out. Like….omg guys. It’s pretty!!

Interesting. Omega seems sad that a place she didn’t want to ever return to is gone. But I guess that’s probably the notion that she’s essentially homeless setting in. That the only home she’s had (before Clone Force 99) is gone.

Also, I have this theory that Ghost Fives probably travels with Echo, and he’d likely be like “good! Fuck that place. Killing Tup there and all. Bitches.”

Echo: “stfu Fives, she’s sad okay.”

Honestly I’m not surprised Crosshair refused their offer to come with them. He has his pride and I feel like he doesn’t want to admit aligning with the Empire was a mistake. That he was wrong and Hunter was right. Especially after being all Pro-Empire and talking about how they’re going to be what the Galaxy needs.

“Consider us even.” GIRL he admits it! He was saving YOU!! YOU! Not the dumb droid, YOU!!!!

His face says it all when they pull away. Like he regrets not going with them, but he can’t bring himself to stay with them. He’s really conflicted right now. He has programming in his head telling him one thing and another portion of his mind reminding him that Tech, Wrecker, Hunter, and even Echo care about him. That they’re a team. He even wanted them to join the Empire so they could all get back together. He does want to be with them, but it’s going to take time to get passed the war in his head.

Oh damn, Nala Se and some Commando buddies. Yeah there’s something up with her. She seems to have gained a lot out of this. Making herself more important than Lama Su and likely more important than the other scientists from Kamino. I wonder if this was her plan all along. It’s so hard to tell what Kaminoans are thinking because they don’t express emotions facially or even vocally.

I read a post somewhere about Nala Se doing childish science experiments. Like the baking soda/vinegar volcano. And now I can’t get the image out of my head of her teaching like a high school chemistry class where you get to do those classic science fair experiments. Things exploding, clones accidentally gassing each other at a table. Someone betting someone else 5 credits to drink a solution.

@leias-left-hair-bun @halzore @escapedthesarlacc @eyecandyeoz

#star wars #the clone wars #star wars the clone wars #the mandalorian #the bad batch spoiler #the bad batch spoilers #crosshair tbb #commander crosshair #sargent hunter #tbb hunter #tbb tech #tbb echo #arc trooper echo #tbb wrecker #tbb omega

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cerastes · 4 years

Text

E2 artworks are for the most part delightful, but today, I would like us to pay particular attention to certain characters’ Elite 2 artwork: Nightingale, Cuora, and Specter.

The three of them have two things in common: The first is that they are all amnesiac (or, in the case of Nightingale, partially amnesiac, but amnesiac nonetheless), the second is that they are all drawn by Skade. I think the Hypergryph writers just have an Amnesiac Hotline for whenever they conceive another amnesiac character and it connects directly to Skade’s temporal lobe, where all information about the new character is immediately uploaded to and then he just starts furiously drawing.

But let’s focus on the fact that they are amnesiac in this post, and how this is reflected in their E2 art in a way I found clever. Let’s begin with our favorite fashionable demon, Nightingale.

Nightingale’s name is a two-fold allusion: The most evident one is being an homage to Florence Nightingale, the mother of modern nursing. The other, perhaps least apparent but of equal importance, is to the Greek aesop “The Laborer & The Nightingale”, which tells the tale of a poor laborer who, enthralled with the beautiful song of a nightingale that sang every day atop a tall cedar tree, grew selfish and built a cage of iron and twigs to capture the nightingale to make its songs his and only his. Her lines make several allusions to cages and empty rooms,

and of only being let out of her ‘cage’ when someone needed her healing powers, her “song”, if you will (especially relevant when you consider how song and Arts seem to be related in Terra). Her E2 art, thus, represents her bursting out of her cage or iron and twigs. Unlike other Sarkaz Operators, her E2 is not a shape or a representation of a Demon, it is, instead, a representation of her inner Demon, the cage of her head, which contains all of her memories and emotions locked tight within in. She’s not there yet, but she’s making progress. It is worthy of note that Shining also doesn’t depict a Demon in her E2 art, her artwork instead centering on her shield, but while Shining’s E2 art is an allusion of her deep, deep shame of being a Sarkaz and the things she’s done as a Sarkaz (or, in other words, denouncing her own identity to focus on what she truly wants to do from here on, which is to protect others), Nightingale’s E2 artwork instead depicts her destroying part of the cage that holds her back: She’s not fully out yet, but now, it is only a matter of time.

Then, what about Cuora?

Some Operators show a manifestation of their identifying animal that might not be entirely physical but it’s clear, with hard colors and textures. Other Operators show their animal very clearly, as if it was truly there, like Perfumer and Siege, and in some cases, it REALLY is there, as with Eyjafjalla (who directly addresses them in a voice line), and this seems to be matter of artistic preference, but whereas Skade normally draws E2 manifestations with solid colors, in the case of Cuora and Specter, he chooses to make them almost phantasmal, with soft colors and an ephemeral feel to them instead. In fact, the turtle you can see above is as generic as can be, it doesn’t seem to be identifying of any particular turtle species, and all we know about it is that it is “a turtle”. This is deliberate, meant to represent Cuora’s amnesia: Her race, Petram, is not unknown, but she doesn’t remember what specific kind of Petram she is. There’s a lot of turtle species, so which one is she? We have no idea. We know Blue Poison is a Poison Dart Frog, we know Nearl is a Pegasus, so when it comes to species either real or fantastic, we usually have an accurate account of which each Operator is supposed to represent, but not with Cuora, because she’s amnesiac. Whatever specific kind of Petram she is, we’ll never know unless someone that can properly identify her or that knew her from before the amnesia can divulge that information. To represent this, thus, her animal manifestation is ephemeral, phantasmal, ambiguous: It shows us exactly as much as we know of it, that is, that she’s a turtle, nothing less, nothing more.

So where does this leave Specter?

Nightingale has partial amnesia, Cuora is amnesiac but her Oripathy was caught in time and she’s been stabilized, but Specter’s nervous system has been ravaged, and not only is she amnesiac, she’s also prone to bouts of insanity and of sometimes saying some rather concerning things, such as wanting to take Doctor to the “place where secrets are imparted” or how “some people were never ever meant to be one, so it is her duty to cut them into many”.

Nightingale’s art, if you look above, is ‘solid’, bereft of particles or separated parts: It’s an iron cage, the twigs, and herself. Cuora’s art is somewhat more ‘loose’, with some weaving loose lines on the lower part of the drawing to presumably represent low tide, where you would normally find small turtles, as well as to represent her somewhat deteriorated but overall well-preserved psyche. Specter’s art, in contrast, is very loose: There’s an emphasis on aquatic trails all over the composition, representing the deep sea, as well as her flowing cloak, hair, and habit flaps. There’s many loose ‘particles’, like smudges of splattered ink, representative of her shattered psyche, and, most importantly, there’s not one but two sharks of different species as her animal representation. I believe they are representative of how she’s currently ‘two’ people: The somewhat manic but otherwise harmless Specter that can be found roaming the halls of Rhodes Islands’ dorms, and the completely silent fighting machine named Specter that can be found roaming the battlefield like a vengeful ghoul, following orders to the letter, her own safety be damned.

But there’s another meaning, I believe: Cuora at least has one turtle in her art, which can at least let us approximate which species it could possibly be (likely a freshwater turtle judging from comparative size and shell shape, bigger than tortoises, smaller than sea turtles), but Specter has two sharks, which means properly approximating her exact species becomes a lot harder. Skadi and Deepcolor, fellow AEgirians, make it very clear which animals they are supposed to be (Orca and Dumbo Squid, respectively), which further proves that this is a Specter-specific conundrum and not a Deep Sea trait. Likewise, her outfit has several allusions to the overall shape of a shark, but not to any specific shark.

If we want to dig deeper, and boy howdy I bet we do, we can take a look at the Chinese Hanzi that composes her name:

“幽灵鲨”, or “Yōulíng shā”, which translates literally to “Ghost Shark” from Chinese to English. Fitting that her codename is given as Specter. So, what’s a “Ghost Shark”, exactly? Aside, from, you know,

a really bad B-Movie.

Sounds like it’s just a cool poetic name for someone who is but a specter: a fleeting existence, with no memories, only a shadow of her former self, no?

Well, that works out, to be frank, but it turns out, Ghost Sharks are a real species. This is the Bahamas Ghost Shark:

And this is the Australian Ghost Shark:

They belong to a species of fish known as Chimaeras, and they live in temperate ocean floors down to 2,600 m (8,500 ft) deep and are some of the oldest fish alive, they share plenty of characteristics with their prehistoric ancestors (or, to translate this to Arknights terms: keep in mind how Specter looks just like a regular human). These are deep sea fish, with only a couple of them coming close to the surface rarely, and it fits with what we know of Specter, what with her background of fighting giant Deep Sea monsters as an Abyssal Hunter. Of course, whether she is supposed to be a Chimaera of any sort remains to be seen, but it wouldn’t surprise me if she was, given the thematic similarities.

I found all of these little nudges and nods to be plenty fascinating. Am I perhaps reading too deep into this? Always within the realm of possibility! Are Skade and Hypergryph planting seeds of lore that will bloom much later, making every piece of evidence given until that point suddenly make cohesive sense? Wouldn’t put it past them! So analyze, analyze, and analyze, because even if it takes you nowhere, lord knows it’s fun to do so.

#arknights #long post #specter #cuora #nightingale

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icanshouyoutheworld · 3 years

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For my request, can you write a one-shot featuring Toshinko in a Little Mermaid AU please? You can decide on their roles and if you want to include other bnha characters in the AU. What do you think?

Hi! I know this might be a little different to what you had in mind, it does deviate from the original plot a little, but the ending of this oneshot was a picture I just couldn’t get out of my head and I thought it would be really nice to write

I hope you enjoy it anyways! :)

Word count: 2.7k

The first time she saw him, she thought he was the most beautiful man she’d ever seen. He was also the only man, human man, she’d ever seen. Humans really were the strangest things. But she was fascinated by him, fascinated by his legs. Not only were they so very interesting to look at after having been surrounded by other merpeople her whole life, but they were so long and strong and carried him with purpose.

Prince Toshinori, that was his name. The humans were celebrating his birthday, firing bright explosions of light into the sky. It was beautiful. Inko wanted to stay with her head out of water watching the sky above forever, she wanted to watch the human prince on the deck of his ship forever. There was just something about it, something she couldn’t quite place. She was drawn to him not only out of curiosity, but something more that pulled in her stomach and made her heart fill with light.

But the splendor didn’t last.

The sky rumbled like gods clashing, the clouds turned a deep, murky, grey and water began to cascade from above. Lightning flashed around the ship, illuminating it in a frightening glow before it suddenly burst into flames.

Inko’s heart was pounding in her chest, she’d never seen anything like it. She didn’t know whether to help, whether she could help, or whether to swim away and leave them to their fates. The ocean would not be kind to humans, but that was not something she could change.

“Put the fire out!” She heard someone yell, but it was too late. The boat careened to the side and crashed into a large outcropping of rocks with a terrible crash. Inko gasped and swam backwards out of instinct, trying to avoid the falling rubble, the splintering planks and the prince’s heavy gifts splashing into the water below.

Where was the prince? Inko thought, panicked. She craned her neck out of the waves, desperate to try and glimpse him, confident that in the commotion no one would think to notice her.

People were lowering smaller boats into the water, and Inko watched as they swayed and shuddered, as people lowered themselves down into them and began to row away to the safety of shore. But the prince wasn’t there. Frantically, she looked for him, wishing she had legs so that she could climb up and see for herself, when she heard him shout. She wasn’t sure what he said, his voice was drowned out by the crashing of the waves, the lightning, the thunder, it was terrifying to watch and Inko felt utterly helpless.

She watched as the prince grappled to save people, rushing them all to the boats before himself. Whilst she admired his selflessness she couldn’t help the fright rising up in her as the final boat began to lower and the prince ran back into the flames crying out that there was still someone trapped inside.

The prince reemerged, not with a person at all, but with a hairy, four-legged creature. He carried it in his arms as it panted and whined in distress, and Inko allowed herself to feel relieved as he lowered it into the last boat. His blonde hair was sooty and ash-covered and fell into his eyes as he leaned over. The people in the boat below raised their arms to take the animal and then did the same for their prince.

“Oh, thank you,” Inko sighed, her hand on her chest. Thankful that the crew, the prince, would all get out alive.

That was when the boat exploded.

Inko was thrown back under the water with the sheer force of it, the resounding boom echoing in her ears even when the ocean rushed back over her head to mute and muffle the sound.

Before she could even register what she was doing, she was swimming frantically towards where the prince’s body had plummeted into the sea. Even in the violence of the storm, she was still a strong and confident swimmer. It was in her blood, it was who she was, and she could fight the sea on equal terms. Or at least it felt that way, with the adrenaline coursing through her.

Inko spotted the prince’s body and sped up as fast as she could, racing to get to him, desperate to get him to the surface before it was too late. She opened her arms as she grew nearer, frightened by how limp he was as she wrapped her arms around his waist as best she could and began to haul him upwards.

It was so dark she could barely see him, there was no light in the sky, and she felt it was a miracle she’d managed to spot him. Even the vibrant glow of his hair had been dulled. He didn’t belong in these stormy waters.

The prince was so much taller up close, his body felt like it was twice the length of hers and, if it wasn’t for the adrenaline, Inko wasn’t sure that she’d have been able to carry him to safety. But she managed. Gasping and heaving, she broke the surface; he didn’t stir.

He didn’t stir when they reached land, either, when she lay him down on the damp sand of the beach.

“Please,” Inko whispered, placing a hand on his cheek when his head lolled to the side. “Come on.”

And, like a miracle, he spluttered awake. He coughed, spat up sea water, and then took in his surroundings. Inko sighed, laughed, and beamed straight at him when he turned to look straight at her, forgetting for a moment that she didn’t belong on land with him.

“Who are you?” The prince asked, sounding gravelly and a little awestruck. His hair had been flattened by the ocean and it was stuck to his face in strings. Inko watched the water droplets roll off his skin again and again, only to be replaced with raindrops from the quieting storm. She was beginning to feel a little breathless, and with a jolt she realised it wasn’t because of him.

Her father was going to kill her. If the surface didn’t take her first, that was.

Inko, wide-eyed, didn’t answer the prince. Instead, she dived back into the water and left him to his confusion. She’d shown him too much. She’d gotten too entranced by him. Her father had told her time and time again not to show herself to humans, not to go anywhere near the surface. It wasn’t like she listened most of the time anyways, but still. She couldn’t shake the feeling that this might have been too far.

She also couldn’t shake the prince’s beautiful eyes from her mind, his voice, his face, his hair. The way he’d felt in her arms.

She needed to see him again.

The second time she saw him, she was human. Or thereabouts. Though she’s mute, having traded her voice to the witch Toga for her legs. Inko considers it a fair trade.

She hasn’t been able to keep her mind off the prince since she saw him on the boat, since she rescued him. But it had been one thing to keep him in her mind, and quite another entirely to be standing on human legs before him.

“Hello,” the prince said, looking a little startled to have found her here. Inko was wrapped in the fabric from a sail that had been scrambled in the shipwreck on the rocks, she’s vaguely aware that this wasn’t what most humans probably did for clothing but she reckoned it couldn’t be a far cry.

Inko opened her mouth to reply, she wanted to tell him anything and everything. She wanted to tell him how lovely she found him, she wanted to ask if he recognised her. Though she could make no sound. Ah. This would be far harder than she thought it would be. Her chest was bursting with all the unspoken words, her thoughts were whizzing a mile a minute, and she didn’t quite know what to do with herself.

She waved to him, unable to fight the smile. The prince furrowed his eyebrows for a moment, and then waved back to her, looking a little unsure.

“Are you okay?” He asked, stepping towards her. Inko tried to step forwards to meet him, but she really was unused to how these human legs operated and she stumbled clumsily forwards. Prince Toshinori rushed to catch her in his arms, but she slipped through them and fell forwards into his waist. He’s so tall she barely reached his chest. “Woah there,” he said.

Inko looked up at him, beaming. She didn’t know how else to communicate with him.

“What are you doing out here?” He asked.

Inko gestured to her throat, shaking her head and then making an X with her arms. The prince seemed confused, and then understanding lit up his eyes.

“You can’t speak?” He raised his eyebrows in surprise, looking down at her. He placed a large hand over each of her bare shoulders and stepped slightly away, putting a little space between them so that he could properly look down and take her in. His hands were so warm and kind, Inko thought.

She nodded in confirmation.

“What a terrible thing!” He said sincerely, distressed over her lack of voice in a way that made Inko’s stomach flutter. “Have you anywhere to go?”

Inko shook her head, looking sheepishly down. She hadn’t thought this part through. All she’d wanted to do was get to the surface, all she’d wanted was to see him. Now she was here, she didn’t know what else to do. Other than try and get that kiss, of course. She couldn’t, and wouldn’t, forget that.

“Come to my palace,” the prince urged. Inko couldn’t help the way her eyes lit up. Who was she to deny that? “I’ll see to it that you’re looked after.” He smiled warmly down at her, and Inko hoped she wasn’t imagining the softness in his eyes.

The third time she saw the prince was the following morning. She bathed and slept at the palace, comfortable and warm and marveling over the irony of bathing when she’d spent all her life in what could be considered as the largest bath on the planet. She supposed it was strange to think of her home like that.

The prince had taken her by the hand and shown her through the town and Inko had been enthralled by it all. She just loved all of these human pleasures, she loved the walking, the festivals, the beautiful clothing. She loved how her green hair looked dry and soft and flowing, the way it was picked up by the breeze. She loved the way the prince’s hand felt in her own.

As evening began to dawn, the prince invited her into a boat. Nothing like the one she’d seen him in originally, the one she’d rescued him from.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it? The town?” He said gently as he rowed them through the still, glittering water.

Inko nodded, it was beautiful, he was right. But she was more distracted by him. The water was reflecting off his face, casting lovely rays of light across his skin and illuminating his eyes just often enough to keep her addicted. She couldn’t believe how quickly she’d fallen for him. In the space of a week he’d taken her heart and given her opportunities she could only dream of before.

Toga could keep her voice if that was the cost it took to stay by the prince’s side.

The prince was quiet, he seemed to be contemplating something. His gaze flickered to her and then away. Then back again. It stuck that time. He met her eyes with a tenderness she’d never seen before. He looked at her like she was the only thing worth looking at.

He rowed them through the opening of some willow trees, which fell closed behind them and trapped them in a blissful little piece of heaven. They were secluded here, tucked away from all eyes, though Inko could distantly hear singing. She wasn’t paying attention. She didn’t think she could if she tried. Her heart was pounding, her hands were shaking, she was so overcome with love she didn’t know what to do with it all.

Prince Toshinori lowered the oars, not looking away from her.

“You’re beautiful,” he said to her. He leaned forwards, taking her hands in his. “Of course, my kingdom is grand, this river is a sight to behold. But nothing, absolutely nothing, is quite so lovely as you are.” He lifted her hand to his mouth and pressed the most gentle kiss to it.

Inko so badly wanted to tell him how she loved him. She wanted to shout it from every rooftop he’d shown her this morning, it felt like the words were bursting out her chest. She hoped to every deity she knew of that he was looking at her and seeing exactly what she wanted him to. That he was seeing just how dear to her he was.

“Do you feel the same?” The prince asked. And although he hadn’t asked any direct question Inko knew what he meant, she could feel it in her heart, and she nodded, once, before he took her face in his hands and held it softly. She stilled, her pulse thrumming, and stared into his kind eyes. He smiled and closed them for a moment as he drew his face nearer.

“I don’t even know your name,” he laughed under his breath. She wanted to laugh with him, but it made no noise. She wished she could tell him, she wished she could give that piece of herself to him.

Prince Toshinori shook his head, leaning even closer, enough that Inko could feel him breathing against her face. He was waiting for confirmation, she realised, and it made her heart sing that he would be so considerate - but there was no need. Not right now.

Inko pushed forwards, enough that her lips just brushed his, and allowed him to close the final distance. For such a gentle kiss Inko found it was the most electric thing she’d ever felt. It was warm, comforting, chaste, but electric. It set her nerves on fire, made her head spin, and she pushed closer to him, placing a hand on his knee and ignoring the way the boat rocked.

Suddenly, Inko felt a heat in her throat. Unrelated to the kiss. It felt as though a sudden weight had been lifted. It was almost as though… Oh. True love’s kiss. Right. Her voice!

Inko pulled quickly away from the prince, likely too quickly if the flash of hurt across his features was anything to go by. His lips stayed parted, but his eyebrows knitted together, and his eyes filled with confusion.

“Inko,” she rushed out, before he could get the wrong idea. She kept one hand on his knee, the other around her throat. His hands were still cradling her face. “My name is Inko.”

“You can talk?” He asked, seeming unsure.

“It was a curse - I mean, the witch she - I traded it for legs but - it was true love’s kiss, don’t you see!” Inko stumbled through the attempted explanation but found that no matter what she said it didn’t quite sound right. None of it would really make much sense. Perhaps she should have lied and told him she had been suffering a sore throat.

“I…” his voice trailed off. He made to lower his hands, but Inko lifted her own to hold them to her face.

“I love you,” she said. “I can explain everything, I promise. Do you trust me?”

He watched her closely, trying to make out if she was lying, but he must have sensed the truth for he leaned in closely once again.

“I trust you,” he whispered. “I’m really going to need an explanation for all of this. I mean - a witch?” He broke off and shook his head. “But - nevermind. I have never felt anything for anyone as I feel for you. I think - I mean, I’m sure. I love you too.”

“I feel the same way,” Inko told him, leaning in for another kiss. His hand pushed up into her hair and she sighed happily.

“Inko,” he said, trying the weight of her name on his tongue.

She had so much to tell him, so much to explain, she had no idea if he’d believe her.

But for now, this was more than enough.

#bnha #bnha imagines #mha #mha imagines #toshinko #inko x toshinori #toshinko fanfic

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