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x-pair-o-dice-x · 2 months ago

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t!healer!Squidkid & g!mer!Techno abandoned fic

// was intended to end in vore. never got to write that

// 11k words and none of it was vore

“Hail, healer.”

Squidkid snaps out of his thoughts, glancing up to the shipmate in front of him. He’s not really sure what role they have. He doesn’t travel the sea enough to know. He’s just here to reach the next city over, and the crew allowed him to join them as long as he helped the sick and injured. The only time they interact with each other is for food and for business. He’s not worth much for anything else.

“Hello,” he dusts his pants, getting up, “what do you need?”

“Injury. Come help,” they grunt, turning.

He follows quietly, not asking for details just yet. They won’t speak to him. He already knows that, so he lets his mind wander. As usual it comes up blank, any thoughts exhausted after the first day of travel. There’s not much to do on this cargo ship. It’s one of the boring ones— only because the crew barely trusts him into their ranks. That’s fine. He’ll be gone in due time, and they’ll be a few gold pieces richer for that. It still doesn’t stop the boredom, unfortunately.

Ducking through the doorway, he steps in front of the crew mate currently looking like they’re holding back a scream as they cradle their arm against their chest. “What caused it?”

“Fell on it. Floor was slippery ‘cause John didn’t clean it up correctly,” they wheeze.

He nods, kneeling down in front of them. Their shoulders are obviously dislocated, which he can’t help but be grateful for. At least it isn’t broken.

He turns towards the cremate that led him there, nodding towards a rag with a tilt of his head. “Grab a rag for them to bite, and help me lay them on the table. Face up.”

The injured man grunts, moving on their own before he can object. “I can do it myself.”

He just sighs as the rag is shoved into the sailor's mouth. Reaching out and closing his eyes, he drew out a familiar warmth within him. When he opens his eyes, his hands are glowing. He knows that his eyes are glowing too.

“On three, I’m gonna pull,” carefully grabbing the dislocated arm and positioning it at a right angle, he slowly pulls on it, “one.. two—“ He pulls, hearing the pained grunt his patient obviously tries to hold back and a sudden sound of the shoulder repositioning itself back to normal. Their shoulder glows a bright blue as he pushes some of his power to relieve the pain and heals them, fading when he lets go of them.

He staggers back, grimacing and shaking his head to ignore the wary glances coming from the two sailors. Pushing down the spinning headache that’s starting to grow, he turns away. “Take a day off to let it settle. I’m going to take a nap.”

Staggering out of the room, he coughs. Maybe he should get some water first. Yeah. That would be good. He drags one foot after the other, trailing up the stairs to get to the upper deck. He scrunches his nose at the bright sky.

Why did they have to put the kitchen on the other side of the ship? He had no idea. At least he could look out at the sea. He may not be a sailor, but even he felt the cumbersome tug of wanderlust for the ocean’s deep secrets. It’s no wonder they braved through the tough lifestyle just to chase that love.

He, on the other hand, was quite content with living on *solid* ground, thank you very much.

Tearing his gaze from the hypnotic waves with a shake of his head, he barely registered the dark clouds in the far distance as he rushed to the kitchens with sharp breaths.

He really needed a nap.

——

//////

——

Squidkid wakes up to shouting and a faceful of water splashing in his face.

Neither being a good thing. Obviously.

Startling to his feet with a heavy cough, his eyes widen as his socks are soaked immediately. The floor was covered by at least an inch of *water.* He had to be in a nightmare.

He springs up, running out to the deck to see what the hell was going on. A sailor stops him on the way. “We’ve been grounded.”

“G— Grounded?”

“Fuckin— damn landlubbers— something hit the bottom of our ship,” they clarify with quick breaths. He ignores their insult, furrowing his eyebrows. They’re in the middle of the open ocean. How the hell did something scrape the bottom of their ship?

“How is that even poss—“ he’s interrupted by a heavy rock of the ship, stumbling into a wall. His eyes widen when he hears a scream— an *inhuman* scream that feels like it’s going to split his eardrums. “What in Prime’s sake was that?”

The sailor curses, pushing themselves up. “Go find out for yourself. I gotta go get the cannons.” He doesn’t get the chance to open his mouth before the sailor runs off. What the *hell?* Leaning against the wall, he warily makes his way to the deck and freezes. When the sailor said to look for himself, he didn’t expect to see a tentacle bigger than the ship’s mast.

Because, oh *gods,* the ship was attacked by a sea beast. That’s the only thing that could possibly be that big. He shouts, just barely dodging a tumbling barrel while grabbing onto the nearest, stable rail. Oh god— oh god— why did it have to be this ship? He should’ve just taken the earliest passenger ship even if it was due a week later. Maybe then he’d survive. But, now, he was just waiting for a blunt hit in the head by a rogue barrel to end his pitiful life. Or, even worse, drowning.

A shout brings him out of his thoughts, and he glances up to see that— *oh,* they— they had a lifeboat. He— he needs to get to that life boat before they leave. It’s his only chance—

But—

He shakes as he stares at the deathly obstacle course in front of him. There’s loose barrels rolling around, ropes flailing around just waiting to hit him in the face, and, of course, the sea beasts red tentacles squeezing the ship into splinters.

He… he couldn’t make it through that. No way in hell. If he stays here, he’ll die. If he goes, he’ll die from something else. It’s a no win situation. But— he should *try,* right?

A shout rips from his throat as the railing he’s holding onto breaks off slightly, leaving him dangling off of the ship. “Oh shit— oh *shit—“* he yelps, legs scrambling to get any sort of perch to stand on.

The wood only cracks further at his movement, and he freezes. His only chance of safety was ripped away. He won’t even be able to try and get over to the lifeboat now that he’s dangling in the air. Glancing over at the lifeboat, he screams, “HELP! Please, help!”

None of the sailors even look at him.

They don’t hear. *They don’t hear him.* Oh gods, he’s so fucked, “HELP! ANYONE, PLEASE—“ a cough rips from his already hoarse throat, and he’s sent into a coughing fit from how not used to screaming he is.

He can barely shout when the railing finally breaks with a loud crack, and he crashes into the murky water still holding onto the now useless piece of wood. The water rushes up to his face, attacking him with shoves and pushes. His breath escapes into little bubbles, and he tries to swim.

He’s never been a good swimmer but somehow, he finds himself at the surface of the water for a second. He doesn’t waste that second, taking as much air as he can before he’s submerged into the sea’s rage.

He’s heard of the never ending battle between the sea and a stranded human in stories. It’s useless to fight. He won’t win. He knows that. It still doesn’t stop him from trying. The instinct to live still beats in his heart, and he’ll be damned to let go of that hope. His head bobs above and under the water, like he’s a buoy, and the only thing that’s helping him is the driftwood he’s been holding onto since the beginning. It’s what sent him into this waterboarding hell, and he’ll be damned if it’s not the thing that keeps him afloat.

He doesn’t know where the sea is taking him, but, at one point, he thinks he can see the lifeboat. He’s not sure because the next second he’s under the water, and he sees the sea beasts tentacles shoot towards something. He’s just glad that it wasn’t towards *him.* He must be too small and insignificant for the beast’s hungry jaws.

Good. That’s.. good. He doubts he’d have enough power to fight back even with his normal strength. He’s already exhausting himself right now. Everything feels sluggish. Gasping for air, he coughs, clinging to the driftwood that’s keeping him up. His grip feels weaker. It is weaker. He— he’s losing his adrenaline rush. A whimper dares to try and escape him, but he doesn’t let it. That would be a waste of air. Pressing his face against the soaked, cold wood, he paddles his legs to stay near the surface of water. Even still, he can feel himself get pushed further under. He’s slowly losing the battle. His mouth opens instinctively for air, and he chokes on the water that rushes in.

Who knew his life would end in the sea?

The last thing he sees before he passes out is a streak of pink and the sound of haunting cries.

——

//////

——

The floor beneath him is blurred, freckled blue splotches glowing underneath his hands. It’s a pretty sight, and one that won’t be remembered once his eyes close once more. It’s hard to focus in his half-conscious state, and he lurches over, coughing up water. It spills onto his clothes.

His body— or is it his surroundings? It’s hard to tell— rocks back and forth like a little dinghy in mild waters. He feels damp, even more so than he probably should be despite throwing up saltwater all over himself, and he slumps over on his side, eyes fluttering shut once more.

Strangely though, he hears a low whistle before he fades out.

——

//////

——

Surprisingly, Squidkid wakes up.

He doesn’t expect that. Nor does he expect his first actions to be immediately throwing up on the sand next to him.

The… wait. The sand?

“What the—“ his breath hitches as he stops himself from going into a dry coughing fit. He’s… he’s on *land.*

He’s on a beach. Somehow, he was lead to a fucking beach. He’s somehow survived. Urging himself to his feet, he wavers and drops back down with a wheeze. Shit. He’s so weak. He falls to his side, yelping when something crinkles under his weight. Pushing himself at least to his hands and knees, he blinks in surprise when… he sees a bottle of… water.

…What?

He hesitantly picks it up, glancing up to scan the rest of the beach. Surprisingly enough, there’s a small crate of.. supplies. Did… *oh,* did a bit of the cargo ship’s crates fall into the same current as him? That must have been what happened, right?

He doesn’t really know, but he’s not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Uncorking the bottle, he barely stops himself from choking down the water. It’s obviously a little dirtied but it’s *drinkable.*

He chugs a third of the water before forcing himself to stop. He’s weak and shoving a bottle full of water down his throat probably isn’t a good idea.

Instead, he takes careful sips, even if it’s still a tad too fast of a pace. Once he finishes, he drops it back onto the sand. He’d feel bad for discarding the plastic bottle if he wasn’t half delirious, but he’s still thirsty. It’s ironic that he’s starving for the very same thing that almost killed him.

Not that he gives two shits right now.

Shakily, he crawls his way over to the open crate, grabbing another bottle and taking a few more small swigs. Only then does he stop. Even while half dead, he knows that it’s not good to drink so much so fast right after what just happened to him. Corking the bottle, he grimaces as his stomach already whines at the water. Gods, he’s already tired after moving for such a little time.

He, presumably, was the only survivor on that cargo ship. The rest might have died on that lifeboat if he really did see the sea beasts tentacles reach for something above the surface. He shivers. Gods, he really rather not ever have to see those tentacles reach up from the abyss ever again— no less, ever see them reach for *him.* While not overly religious, despite being a healer, he still prays for those men and women’s souls. May they not have been swallowed whole into the dark creatures gullet. The thought tears another full body shudder out of him. Terrifying, to be alive while that happens. It would give any sane person nightmares to think about that for too long.

And he might get nightmares of that too if he keeps thinking about it, so he shakes his head. And again, when it doesn’t help. He still feels nauseatingly dizzy, and he falls back to his side as a headache hits him.

Maybe… Maybe another nap wouldn’t hurt.

——

//////

——

The next time he wakes up, he feels better. Not by a lot, no, he still has an aching headache but he’s able to push himself to at least sit on his knees. When he first awoke, it was almost noon, but now it was dusk. Which.. meant that he was at sea for almost half a night, right? No… that wasn’t possible. He’d… He would die if that were to happen, right?

…His headache must be fucking with his sense of time.

Pressing a hand to his temples, he gently massages the area with a grimace before shifting his attention away from his thoughts to the supplies around him. Right. He needed to set up a base, first things first.

He scavenges through the crate. Luckily enough, there seems to be a decent amount of food in there, and more water bottles too. A soaked blanket too— that was seemingly put there to cushion the supplies.

That’s good. He can use that to carry as much supplies as he can to a safer location. There are trees lining the inside of the beach. He can nestle somewhere there. Maybe not too close to the beach, lest he want the cold night breeze to freeze him. The land from this angle doesn’t… seem to have much height in terms of hills. It must stretch on for a long while. He’d have to explore later.

Deciding to test his luck, he slowly shifts his weight, shakily getting to his feet. Thankfully, he has a lot more motor control over his own body this time around. Leaning down, yelping when his back cracks, he pushes a decent amount of both water and food packages onto the wet blanket before pulling at the corners and making a makeshift bag. It’s the best he’s got for now, so he slings it onto his back and starts walking towards the trees.

He won’t bring it with him all the way while exploring, but he’ll definitely bring it a tad closer to the treeline. Hopefully no animals will get to it before he comes back.

——

//////

——

He figures out that the land he’d been graciously tossed onto by the gods was only an island. It takes him an hour to stop hyperventilating. He has no idea how to survive alone on an island. The gods sure do have a strange show of mercy to him. Maybe he should’ve prayed more when he still had access to a temple.

He does not cry. Not when every resource is precious to him.

——

//////

——

He finds a good place to settle down. The island isn’t small, but it’s not big either. From what he can estimate, the spot is roughly in the middle of the entire land.

There are two trees, almost intertwined in each other. It looked as if it came from a storybook. He snorts softly as he drops his blanket full of supplies next to the trees. It sure doesn’t feel like a storybook. He still feels like absolutely shit, his dirty hair and clothes clinging to his face. He’s pretty sure there’s sand stuck in between his toes and under his fingernails. And a few other places.

He grimaces, forcing himself into the present again. It’s almost dark. He should set up at least a place he can sleep. From what he could tell, there were no animals that he should be worried about besides the birds and too big lizards. That’s probably a good thing. His first step is getting a small fire set up, and then he moves to setting up his ‘sleeping arrangement.’ The blanket is big enough where he can keep the small amount of supplies wrapped up while laying down on the unoccupied blanket.

As he closes his eyes, he can’t help but relax as he feels the familiar warmth of magic pushing him to rest. He’s not conscious enough to process where the magic is coming from.

——

//////

——

Strangely enough, every time he visits the beach, there’s a crate waiting for him. He’s fairly certain that the current just guides everything to this certain beach and that this is just his shipwreck’s cargo slowly making its way over to this beach.

He still hasn’t set up some kind of signal to show he’s here but it’s hard to think about that when he’s too busy gathering supplies and sleeping. He’ll have to get around with doing that sooner than later. Maybe he can start looking for stuff to set up tomorrow.

Wood planks might work, but it might also blend in. He could try using the crates since they were bulky, but most were too big for him to carry. Maybe something outlandish enough that a ship would stop to look? He’s not entirely sure what to do, since he’s never been taught what to do if stranded. For all he knows, this island could be completely out of any ship’s course. He really, *really* hopes not. Living on an island, all alone with no experience doesn’t sound like a good life. Or a long life.

For now, he pretends that he knows exactly what to do as he slowly makes his way to the beach, his blanket neatly folded up in his arms so he can gather more of the same supplies that stop him from perishing of stupidity.

It’s easier to drag supplies around with his blanket, seeing that he has very little muscle strength. He never had to build it up, seeing that he practiced *magic.* But, right now, he kind of wished he did.

Glancing up boredly as he nears the beach he’s gotten so familiar with, he freezes.

Any thought processes running its way through his head halted as he stopped behind the tree line. His breath hitched as he darted behind a tree, a million things spinning by his head as he tried to process the thing in front of him.

It’s a giant creature. A giant creature with pink fucking hair. And a human body linked with some kind of fish body.

It was a *mer.*

He peeks from behind the thin bark he’s hidden behind, if only to make sure he didn’t just hallucinate an entire mer, but sure enough, it’s still there.

His eyes drift over to their tail, and he’s surprised to see that it looks nothing like the drawings of mer that he’s seen. Instead of a fish tail, the tan of the mer’s human skin bleeds into a deep brown that fans out into a flat circle-like structure. Instead of fins at the base of a long thin tail, it spreads out immediately from the mer’s human-looking torso before abruptly thinning out into a long line. The shape reminds him of an underwater creature he’s only seen among the warm tempered seabeds. Those creatures hid among the sandy floors and were usually dull colored to camouflage with the sand, but this creature— this *mer* was proudly splayed out on the littered beach.

It looks as if it was just taking a little catnap or something; maybe it was sunbathing— Primes know that the beach almost always had sunlight on it despite the tall trees surrounding it.

He gulps nervously. He doubts he’s going to be able to get any supplies today. Not unless he wants to risk an arm. Or his entire life, really.

Mers were not known for their passivity, and they were absolutely not known for any sort of kindness. They quite liked to be left alone, last he checked, and he did not want to mess with this one. It took a group of expert magic users to even injure one mer, and he was just one adept user, that was only an expert in healing.

He takes a step back, eyeing the trees behind him with something yearning, and he does a full on shudder when his foot cracks a stick underneath it.

Oh Primes, he hopes the mer doesn’t have sensitive hearing.

Glancing back, he freezes as the mer starts to move to look over in his direction. That’s all the motivation he needs to book it out of there.

——

//////

——

He’s not happy to admit it… but he has to go back to that beach.

He has no idea how to actually survive on an island, and most of his supplies came from it.

Actually, how would he set up a signal if there was a mer? His plans on creating a signal for other ships have to be put on hold. He’s not sure if the mer would even allow for him to *make* a help sign. They might just tear it down. Or they might not, and just prey on the unlucky ship that comes to save him.

…Yeah. He shouldn’t put up a signal. Not until he figured out the mer issue.

He’s stuck. Cornered. Like prey.

There is no way for the mer to reach him, but sooner or later he has to go crawling back to the beach. He’ll be weakened. Easy to snatch up.

The sea really seems to want to claim him as her own.

He’s not sure what to think about that, too busy trying to build up the courage to force himself back to the beach. He’s already made it to the tree lines, but he can’t still his pounding heart for even a second.

He tries to reason with himself— if he runs in and gets some supplies, then he won’t be totally weakened prey.

Besides, the mer isn’t even on the beach, and there’s a crate a bit farther away from the water that he can bolt to.

He just has to move his stupid fucking legs.

Despite his legs feeling stiffer than the toughest bark, he takes baby steps towards the crate farthest from the waters, creeping along the edge of the beach until he has to step onto the rough sand.

Every time the water washes a little too harshly against the sandy beach, he skitters back, leaving his supplies out in the open. It takes him ages to go back to pulling out supplies, but he manages to pull enough supplies onto his blanket.

Despite being out for an hour, during the time he saw that mer, they don’t reappear. He’s relieved, to say the least. Maybe that mer was a one time thing? He hopes it was a one time thing, because he might just have a mental breakdown if it’s not.

Still, he should be careful. The mer might come back when he’s unaware.

He wraps his blanket around the cans of food and water, hoisting it up onto one of his shoulders. It hurts a little, but he’s gotten used to it by now.

He glances at the water lapping at the sand one last time, breath stilling as if he expects the mer to jump out and scare him.

The dribbling water sinks back into the sea slowly.

He sighs and turns away.

*Too focused on the water near him, he doesn’t notice the head peeking from the water disappear back into the deep ocean.*

——

//////

——

It’s been a while since he first saw the mer. He’s come back to the beach multiple times after that, sometimes just to sit there. It’s nice. Peaceful. Something to just… make him forget that he’s stranded.

It’s also… strange. Once he focuses, he can feel the thrum of magic that’s practically infused into the sandy beach. For some reason, this island has a tie to magic. He doesn’t know how the island came to have so much magical potential, but some part of it brings peace to his mind so he can’t bring himself to wonder.

He never stays long though, the paranoia that the mer might sneak up on him is too much for him to ignore. Today, though, he’s pushing his limit just a little. The water is relaxingly lapping at the edge of the beach, and the sky is clear with the sun out and shining. He doesn’t exactly want to leave just yet.

If anything, he starts to focus more on the magic around him. It's been a while since he’s practiced his magic, and being constantly surrounded by it just makes him itch to release some of his own pent up magic.

He takes a deep breath in, closing his eyes against his better judgment and lets himself sink.

The amount of magic is overwhelming, once he focuses on it. Every breath he takes in is infused with a jarring amount of thick magic; it hangs around this island like a thick fog in the dawn. If he was a weaker magic user, he might’ve drowned from how the magic crashes into him.

It was crushing, but in the same breath it was like swimming in fluffy clouds. He felt like he was floating with how his magic sang amongst the magic floating around him. He kind of wants to touch it.

He barely felt himself move his own limbs to channel the magic within him. It gathered at his fingertips, the magic purring around him and practically begging him to use it and channel it into something with potential. He breaths in, and—

A magic sensation crackles throughout him— different from the fog-like magic around him, leaving him paralyzed for a moment. Wh— what was *that—?*

His eyes fly open, and the cloudy magic he holds snaps. His question is answered when— when the mer from before breaches the surface of the water to lay right in *front* of him.

*Shit.*

He should’ve fucking left the beach, but, no, he just had to stay for a few more minutes. And now the mer is right fucking there, right in front of him— just laying on the beach with their mouth right *there—* and he’s going to *die—*

But…

It….

The.. mer is just staring at him. Not.. doing anything despite his tiny figure frozen from backpedaling away from their mouth (that’s so *close. Too* close—). Their blood red eyes lazily bore into his as if they didn’t just give him the biggest heart attack ever— as if they weren’t going to drag him into the depths of the sea— because that’s what it’s supposed to be doing to him right now if any of the sea shanties he’s heard on ships have an inkling of truth in them.

He doesn’t even realize he’s stopped breathing until he feels his lungs burn, and he has to take a shuddering breath in, hoping the mer hasn’t attacked just because he’s still. Thankfully, they don’t move as he sucks air into his body, so that theory is out of the picture. They’re just… stuck in a standstill, staring at each other. Not that he’s complaining, even if it feels like the mer is scrutinizing his very existence.

Maybe they want to see if he’s big enough to eat. Jokes on them, he can feel his skin hug his ribs from malnutrition. Being stuck on a fucking island with little survival skills does that to a person. He doubts he’d be surviving so long if it wasn’t for the beach’s weird tendency to have supplies scattered around on it.

The mer leans forwards, and his breath slacks. They sniff at him— *sniff* at him, what— before making a strange noise and moving back. Did he smell bad or something? Wh—?

They snort something in their language of chirps and whistles before— before they back off into the sea.

Were they leaving?

He shifts backwards only to freeze again as they glance back at him and hiss something to him. Despite not speaking the slightest bit of mer, he understands their command clearly. They *really* don’t want him leaving so quickly. He gulps.

They watch him for a moment longer before slowly turning their gaze away to do… something.

He immediately scrambles back more, finally pulled out of his stun lock now that they’re not two inches away from him. He was not willing to trust that they wouldn’t kill him. Turning, he scrambles up and bolts.

He can hear them screech something, but he doesn’t care. He needs to run— to *hide—* to never come back to the beach because it was a mistake, a trap. The beauty of the sea was only a trap to lure him into the hungry jaws of mers.

He doesn’t even realize he’s back at his camp until he collapses in front of the intertwined trees with a pained gasp. Pushing himself up by his shaking arms, he blinks away tears. His entire body is trembling in fatigue and draining adrenaline. This was the second time he’d gone running back to his camp because of that mer.

He passes out on the ground, hungry and exhausted.

——

//////

——

He spends the next few days nursing his mental health back to something more reasonable.

He does not dare move from his spot, the phantom feeling of sand and water and hot breath lapping at his legs grounding him in his spot.

——

//////

——

He counts his supplies. Once, twice, thrice just to pass the time before he goes back to pacing. Back and forth and back and forth and *back and forth and…*

——

//////

——

It’s been two weeks. Two long, exhausting weeks.

He’s still decently stocked on water and food, but once his water and food starts going down, he has no idea how to get other supplies. The island doesn’t have much else he can’t gather— at least, nothing he knows about with his limited knowledge— so he’s stuck with going back to that beach.

He paces around his camp, despite knowing that he should preserve any energy he has. He just… has to move or else he feels like he’s going to implode on himself. With how things are going, he’s going to carve an entire pathway into the earth from the back and forth stress walking he’s been doing.

Things have calmed into a strange little routine now. He wakes up, eats, paces, sits down, eats, paces, paces, and paces before going to bed to repeat the process the next day. Of course, during all the pacing, he does scour the medium sized island for anything more he can take and use.

And yet he’s left with a buzzing in his veins.

Probably because he hasn’t focused on his magic since his encounter with the mer. Last time he ignored his routinely magic practices, he had lost his finesse. It was easy to gain back but it was a jarring experience for him when he’s been taught to always practice. He could probably replace his time of pacing to practice.

Like right now.

…Even if he doesn’t feel like it.

He groans, plopping down on the floor and shoving his hands into his face. But before he can berate himself for being so lazy, a full-blown shudder runs through his entire body and—

A second later a shrill wail pierces the air. It’s full of energy and magic, making his entire body feel aflame for a second. The combined sound and feeling makes him want to cry out of pain. Whatever the hell made that sound was obviously hurt and calling for some kind of help. It sounded desperate.

He almost immediately stands up to rush towards the sound— because someone is hurt, someone needs help, *his* help— before he freezes. The only thing that could make that noise would be the *mer.* Despite the strange amount of magic that ran deep in the island’s sandy ground, there were no other magic-touched creatures or objects nearby. He’d feel it if there was.

His first line of thought is to grab his blankets and curl up in it; his second— is a question.

How did the *giant mer* get hurt?

He shakes the question out of his head. He shouldn’t care about that. Last he checked, they were gauging how good he’d taste when they last met. It’s not his problem. It would be better for it to bleed out or something. He might be able to finally set up a signal.

Guilt fills his stomach as soon as the thought passes by. He shouldn’t be thinking that. He was a healer for Prime’s sake. A stranded one that hadn’t practiced magic in a while, but a healer all the same. It was his place to help others, to help people like him. And he was just… ignoring someone who needed help.

Like a tug of war, his mind slaps those thoughts away. That ‘someone’ who needed help was also someone who was known for killing people. A dangerous beast of the sea. One who looked close to trying to eat him.

(But, a *hurt* beast of the sea all the same. A creature of the ocean who shared the same magical finesse as him when few others did. That had to mean something, right?)

He can’t help but frown.

Something in him must have changed while he stayed at this magic stained island. Maybe it was siren magic. Maybe it was the pure loneliness that he felt. Or maybe he was just… too tired. There could be many reasons, but, whatever it was, shook the stillness out of him to move.

With shaky breaths, he took his blanket with him, running towards the beach. If the damned beast decided to kill him, then he could give less of a damn. At least then he wouldn’t have to live his life out on this stupid island.

As he reached the beach, the possessed courage that took hold of him left as quickly as it came when he saw the mer. They were still as big as he remembered, unfortunately. He gulps, nervously shifting his weight on the balls of his feet. He.. can still back out. He’s still far enough away where they can’t reach him.

As soon as he goes up to them, it’s game over for him. They’ll either swallow him up right then and there, or wait for him to heal them. He’ll be a good snack once he’s passed out from using up so much magic. No annoying squirming. Just deadweight. He shudders.

The mer hasn’t reacted to his presence. They’re.. just curled up on their side.

He can see their arms curled around their stomach, only allowing him to see a slight reddish colour seeping from their pale skin.

His frown deepens. Even from the tree line, he can tell that it looks pretty bad. He can’t help but feel sympathy.

He shifts back and forth, freezing when the mer lets out another whine, way softer than their first cry, but with no less magic infused power. At this distance, it makes his chest rattle from how strong it is. They don’t seem aware of how much magic they’re using. It’s almost scary how much magical potential they possess. Almost.

Without meaning to, his own magic hum softly as a soothing reassurance. The mer freezes at the same time he does. *Shit.* He darts behind a tree right as their head snaps towards his horrible hiding spot— he’s not even fully hidden by the thin trunk. They growl. Loudly.

Peeking out from the tree to see them definitely staring at him, he laments his lost cover. Damn his stupid reflex to assist those in need. His cover is already blown; he might as well help.

With that very impulsive decision, he creeps out from the cover of the tree and slowly approaches them, wincing as the mer’s growls louden.

“This is insane,” he whispered to himself as he gets closer, still inching to the clearly riled up mer, “I’m insane. Why am I doing this?”

The mer rumbles something that sounds like agreement as they try to shuffle away from him. A pained whine escapes them.

“Hey! Primes— don’t move so much, you’re gonna irritate that wound, you bozo.”

A growl in response.

He’d question the fact that they were responding to him at all, if he wasn’t so focused on trying to stop himself from chickening out.

“Prick, you were the one to call for me in the first place,” he snapped back, uncaring that they had no chance of understanding him, and he leaned a little closer, “just— let me see your wound—“

They growl louder.

He sighs. It’s almost like he was having a conversation with a toddler, so he can’t help but shift his voice to his… well. His ‘baby’ voice. “Heyy, hey… Relax… I’m not gonna do anything. It’s not gonna hurt. I’m just looking, okay? Just looking.”

The mer has the gall to look offended, and he snorts softly, voice returning back to normal. Maybe the ‘baby’ voice transcended all languages. “Look man. Like I said, I can’t exactly do anything to you. You have full control over this. If you let me look, I promise to back off if you growl.”

At this, they seem to contemplate his words, and, huh. Maybe they *do* understand him.

They slowly moved their arms away to show the wound. He takes a step closer. They don’t growl, even if it looks like they want to.

He takes that as a small win. He takes it as another win as he’s not stopped as soon as he reaches the wound. Something itches at the back of his mind, reminding him that he’s now completely caged next to the beast.

He ignores it, another primal part of him taking over to analyze the scratch wounds in front of him. It’s bleeding a lot, but it looks like that might only be because the mer has been moving around a lot. The scratch is long, but shallow. Good. He doesn’t want to even think about finding a way to stitch together a wound so big compared to him.

But there’s still the fact that he can’t heal them without clearing out any possible debris that’s stuck in the wound. Glancing over at the mer, who’s been staring daggers at him the entire time, he shifts the blanket under his arm into his hands.

“I’m going to have to clean this out with water. It’s going to sting because it’s ocean water, but you probably already know that.”

A soft ‘mrrp’ as confirmation— which, holy Primes, he’s actually communicating with a mer— and he’s off to soak his blanket in water for the second time he’s had it.

It takes a few trips, but he’s able to wipe up the wound. It’s not his best work, but they’re not his best patient either, if the angry squeaks are any indication. Once he’s sure that he’s cleaned up as much as he can, he drops the blanket to the side, cracking his knuckles.

“I’m going to have to touch you for this,” he warns.

They only confusedly chirp at him— *oh,* he— he never explained what he could do. Right.

“I’m a healer. Like.. a magic healer. I can heal you with magic.” And then pass out right afterwards after he’s used up all the magic that’s currently welled up in him. An easy snack for them after being patched up. Such a kind offer from him.

The explanation seems to satisfy them, and they slowly lean closer, allowing his palms to touch above the injury.

He takes a deep breath in, preparing himself for a painful headache he’s about to receive before he lets his magic flow up to his hands. The warmth spills out as a blue glow while he drags his fingers around the wound.

The mer practically shudders under the touch but he’s not deterred. He’s been told that it’s a soothing feeling, a complete contrast to what he feels right after healing someone.

The wound closes up on itself with ease, and he pulls his hands away with a stumble. Pressing a hand against his temple and waiting for the pain from his headache to come, he squeezes his eyes shut as he feels a webbed hand curl around him. It’s as he suspected. As soon as the mer was healed, he was back on the platter.

*Fuck.* He knew this was going to happen but it didn’t make it any less scary. The hand flexes, and he flinched as he feels something brush against his side before—

Before it leaves.

He opens his eyes slowly to see that the mer looks hesitant.

Their hand is pulled back to their side as they look down at their healed side. A soft, annoyed warble comes from them, and they— they just drop their hand to the side before flopping on the sand and look at him.

He blinks. Once. Twice. Then thrice, just to be sure. Did.. did.. the mer just… spare him? A startled laugh escapes him. “Oh, what the hell, man,” he whispers before he’s finally hit with a splitting headache and falls to his knees in pure exhaustion.

The mer startles at his reaction, a surprised chirp escaping past their sharp teeth.

He doesn’t fucking care. They spared him. He can process everything later.

Another chirp and a gentle poke to his side makes him slump against what he guesses is their hand. His vision is too blurry for him to confirm, and his words slur together, “I’m… juz… gonna… sl…eep.”

He passes out to the sound of distressed sounding warbles.

——

//////

——

For the second time, Squidkid is surprised to have woken up.

He groans, a pounding headache plaguing his head as he shuffles to get up. He makes it up to sitting on his ass before his vision blackens. He pauses so he doesn’t pass out again.

When his vision clears, he notices the huge fucking arms stretched around him and promptly panics.

*What the fuck, what the fuck, what the FUCK—* He was supposed to be dead. The mer was supposed to— to *eat* him when he fell unconscious. Why was he still alive? The mer should’ve killed him by now. That’s what every story he’s ever heard has said.

The mer’s arms are moving around him, and he’s helpless to stop their hands as they curl around his figure. He’s lifted up and turned around so he’s facing them. They warble something out, moving his limbs all around as if checking out if he was broken or blemished.

“W— What are you doing?” he squirms, his senses coming back to him. Everything feels sore, but at least he can still move around.

The mer warbles something out again, placing him down in front of them before they shuffle slightly to pull an entire fucking crate from the sea. They tear a side open before placing it in front of him.

He blinks. “What the hell.” He rubs his eyes hard enough to see stars again before he takes another look— and, yup, they just placed an entire crate of canned food and water in front of him. “Have *you* been the one putting these here?”

The mer smiles. Their fangs glisten in the light.

He shivers. “Oh. I thought you were going to kill me, honestly.”

The mer looks partly horrified while also being bewildered.

He feels weirdly defensive. “Hey—! It’s a valid thought process— I’m literally bite sized to you.”

The pinkette rolls their eyes, shoving the crate closer and tipping it so the supplies fall into his lap.

He grabs a bottle of water and opens a can of dried peach that doesn’t look too bad. It’s a bit awkward eating when the mer is staring at him so intensely, but he gets through it easily enough. “Soo….” He tosses the empty can and bottle to the side. “You’re not going to kill me, yes?”

The mer clicks something short.

“I’m taking that as a yes.” He raises an eyebrow. “So what *are* you going to do with me?”

The mer stares at him.

He stares back.

Slowly, the mer shoves the crate towards him again, narrowing their eyes.

“…That gesture can still be taken in many ways, bozo,” he deadpans.

The mer lets out a long, agonized whistle, dropping their head down.

He takes that moment to try and stand up. It goes horribly. He stumbles, and his vision splotches. He can hear the mer warble, and the next thing he knows, the mer’s hands are cupped around him. He yelps as he’s dragged towards them until he’s pressed against their chest.

Their arms curl around him again, and they growl almost… protectively.

At that moment, he realizes what they’re doing. “You’re mothering me. You— I am *not* a fucking child—“

The mer huffs, sounding vaguely amused.

He tries to stumble up onto his legs again. “Look— I’m glad you decided against killing me but that doesn’t mean you can just… just dote on me,” he grunts, rolling his eyes at their insistent chirping.

Their hands cage in on him again, but he swats at their fingers.

“No! Fuck off,” he hisses. “I’ll be fine.”

The fucker give him a look, sliding over a few cans of food and some more water bottles.

Almost comically, his stomach growls in hunger. He flushes, and snatches the food up. “Not a fucking word.”

Thankfully, the mer doesn’t make a peep as he eats more food.

“So… *Why* didn’t you kill me?” He asks, after a few minutes of silence.

The mer tilts their head in thought before pointing at their now-healed wound with what he assumes is a confused noise.

He blinks. “I already told you that I’m a healer? I learnt it at one of the few schools that teach magic.”

They shake their head, pointing at him then at the wound and making another confused noise.

“I… don’t know what you’re trying to say. I— Are you trying to ask why *I* didn’t leave you bleeding?”

They nod, and— Well.

“Oh. I… Uh. I don’t know.” He answers honestly, which makes him sound really stupid now that he’s actually said it out loud. The mer is obviously *not* satisfied with his answer, and he continues. “What? I don’t fucking know. I guess I felt like I’d be an asshole if I just left you there! My tutor kinda drilled in the whole ‘a healer never leaves someone to die’ into me.”

The mer squints at him, shaking their head as if they can’t believe his reasoning. And, really, he can’t blame them. He’s still questioning his own choices. It… might have to do with the fact that he was feeling a little insane after being stuck alone for so, *so* long.

He shifts his gaze from them to the seashore. “Look man, you try being alone for *weeks* in an unfamiliar place. You’d go insane after a while too. I’m… *used* to having a bunch of people around me, even if they don’t interact with me, and I’m most definitely *not* used to having to survive on some stupid fucking island.”

They contemplate his words before conceding with a low noise.

He glances over at them. “So… Now that you’re healed, what are you going to do? I don’t suppose staying here with a stranded human is any fun.”

The mer shrugs.

Squidkid *sputters,* “what do you mean by *that—?”*

——

//////

——

They’ve come to some kind of agreement. He comes out once a day to kinda just… hang out with them while they hand him another fucking crate of stuff.

Today, he’s trying to make a ‘help’ sign, but it’s hard when he has such a… giant, whiny mer in the way.

“Wh— stop batting at the wood!” he chastises, “I’m trying to do something with it!”

The mer whines loudly, spreading themselves out completely onto the beach. They’re like a giant, annoying cat. One that keeps getting in his way.

“Please?”

The pinkette thinks for a moment before spreading their arms out and knocking the rest of the wood into a pile.

He groans, dropping the wood piece in his hands to the floor. He’s been at this for hours, but at this point he might as well take a break. “You’re insufferable.”

The mer grins widely, reaching out and making grabby hands towards him.

“The hell do you want, prick?” he places a hand on his hip. “Are you just acting this way to get my attention? You really do act like a little kid. Or a cat.” He yelps as they claw at the sand, pulling themselves over to him. “Definitely a cat—“

They scoop him up into his hands, manhandling him like usual until he’s laying against them again with their arms stretched around him.

Instead of sitting down, he pushes himself up and decides to dig in the sand for sea shells. He’s accepted his fate, yes, but he’s not going to sit there completely bored out of his mind.

After picking up the fiftieth shell, he glances over to the sea curiously. Despite being on the beach, he’s never actually tried swimming. He sure as hell not going to try right now, seeing that he’s surrounded by an overbearing mer, but the thought brings him to look over at the mer’s powerful tail.

He’s heard that mer’s tails are strong enough to create waves that could topple ships. It makes sense really, seeing that they’d have to push themselves through ocean currents.

But, in the stories those mers have fish tails. This mer doesn’t have the normal fish-like tail. He’s not certain how this mer would swim, seeing that their tail is more… like a flat circle. All the fish he’s seen before have waved their fins back and forth. Would they do it… up and down because of its circular-like shape?

He’s snapped out of his thoughts as the mer rumbles lowly, and he realizes that he’s been staring. “Sorry,” he murmurs, glancing up to the mer. “I’m just curious about your tail. All the tails of mers I’ve heard about have portrayed it differently. They look like normal fish. Like… cod or bass.”

The mer hums, looking thoughtful. A moment later, he’s being scooped up with an ungraceful yell. He wants to chastise them, but before he can, he’s placed in front of their tail.

He blinks, glances up at the mer, looks back down at the fin, and reaches out to touch their fish tail. He runs a hand against it, grimacing at the feeling. It’s… slimy like most fish tails he’s touched. He pulls his hand away, wiping it on his jacket.

He circles around their tail carefully taking in the dark color. It seemed like it was good for blending into the deeper ocean, which made sense. It stuck out like a sore thumb in the light though. As he reaches near the end of their tail to a part that thins out to a line, he pauses. Strangely enough, the thin part of the tail has a small, discolored part that jets out.

Curiously, he reaches out to touch it.

The mer *snarls,* jerking it’s entire tail away from him.

He tumbles back as water splashes him in the face. “Alright, alright! No touching there; I got it—“ he sputters in annoyance, wiping the water off of his face. When he looks up at the mer, his irritation drifts away quickly.

The mer looks *terrified.*

“…Are you alright? Is your tail sensitive there?”

Instead of answering, the mer jerks forward and pulls him back over to their chest with a low growl.

“What the— hey! I told you not to—“

They snarl louder, and he snaps his jaw closed. Listening to their heartbeat, he frowns. Their heart rate has spiked significantly.

“…Do you wanna tell me what that was all about then?” he furrows his eyebrows. “Or am I supposed to just be left in the dark?”

The mer warbles nervously, threading their hands together.

Looks like he’s going to have to play a game of charades. “Is it sensitive there?”

They make a so-so gesture.

“…Right. What does that even mean?”

He watches as they gesture to him before making a shape with his hand; they gesture to the thin part of their tail before making a shape with their other hand. He watches as the… figure of him walks over to the mer’s tail and— and *fall over* on its side.

He gets their message loud and clear. He gulps nervously. “Ah. Okay. So I’m never touching that part of your tail. In fact, I don’t ever wanna be near it.”

The mer has the audacity to laugh at him.

——

//////

——

The mer, in all their stupid fish glory, is holding him hostage. Again.

He eyes them from below, encased by an imaginary line. If he were to even try escaping, they’d drag him back to sitting next to him. And he *really* doesn’t want to test what lengths they’d go to keeping him here, especially when they’re fiddling with their hair.

Every time they’ve hung out, the mer has had some sort of shells or seaweed intertwined in their braided hair, and he’s fairly certain with all their whiny and pettiness that they’d definitely try to braid him into their hair. He doesn’t even want to question the fact that they know how to braid hair to be frank.

Although, maybe he shouldn’t be so afraid, seeing how they keep unbraiding and re-braiding their hair every two seconds. It doesn’t look *that* bad, but they keep giving up. It’s like they had no idea how to braid their hair despite actively always wearing braids. It’s miserable to even look at, really.

Apparently his thoughts were loud enough for the mer to hear because they glance at him and scowl.

“What? I didn’t even say anything!” He throws his hands up into the air. “How do you not know how to braid your hair?”

They growl loudly, pointing furiously at the water and then at their hair.

“You’re telling me that because your hair is waterlogged, you can’t braid your hair?” And— nope, that only made the mer look more indignant. “It’s not that? What could— oh. Do you normally braid your hair in the water?”

The mer nods furiously.

“I feel like that makes it infinitely harder but whatever. Why don’t you just… find a giant hair tie and put it into a bun?”

With that suggestion, he’s given an, admittedly valid, glare.

“What? Can’t find some rope and tie it around your hair? Or just… y’know, your hair looks long enough that you could just tie it back with your own hair.”

They pause, tilting their head curiously, and oh no. He might’ve just elongated his stay with this mer for a bit longer. But, hey, at least he wasn’t sitting in boredom now.

“Yeah, there’s ways to like… keep your hair back with just… your own hair.” He pulls at the hair tie around his own, admittedly longer than usual hair, grimacing as it tugs at his tangled mess. “It’s kinda hard to show when my own hair is a fucking mess but I know there’s a few different ways.”

The mer leans forwards in anticipation, expecting him to spill more of his hair ‘wisdom.’ And, *oh,* he can use this to his advantage.

He grins teasingly. “Ohh, no. I’m not telling you without getting something in return.”

They let out a half-growl that’s borderline whiny. It’s stupid enough to make him laugh.

“If I teach you how to do one of them, you have to let me go. Alright?”

The pinkette thinks for a moment before letting out a defeated sigh, and they nod.

“Perfect!” He exclaims. “Here, let me show you how to put it up in a bun.”

Before he can overthink it too much, he turns so the mer can see the back of his head… and in doing so, he exposes his back to them. He refuses to think more about what that action means, and instead he pulls his hair back before grabbing it and twisting it up to create a loop. “After doing that, you’re going to want to wrap the rest of your hair around the twisted hair to keep it together.”

He glances back to see that the mer is hastily coping his moves, and he waits until they’ve successfully followed his instructions. They’re learning it faster than a fish in water, which… Now that he’s made that simile, he can’t hold back a small snort of laughter at the irony. The mer trills curiously at his quiet laughter, and he shakes his head.

“Right, next, you’re going to want to twist the little loop that you’ve made over the rest of your hair,” he instructs. “I don’t have nearly enough hair to do it, but with your length of hair, it should be easy enough.”

Sure enough, the mer pulls the twisted loop over the rest of their hair, creating a neat bun. It was obviously easier for them, seeing that their hair was silky smooth and very waterlogged.

“There you go,” he praises, letting his hair drop back onto his shoulders. “Now, shoo, let me go now.”

The mer eyes him deviously, and he knows exactly where this is heading.

“Oh you fucking bozo—” he shouts as they scoop him up in their hands.

——

//////

——

“Y’know,” he hums, “now that I’m focusing on my magic again, it’s kinda weird.” He fiddles with the magic between his hands, reluctantly sticking to his own bleeding magic instead of the sweltering magic that practically shoves itself down his throat. The last time he tried to use it, the mer practically became a wild beast to stop him from doing so. He did *not* want to become food for the fish, after all.

The mer in question is lazily stretched out on the beach, their arms caging around him. If he ignores the pang of fear vibrating in his chest, he doesn’t mind too much. Their arms are perfect to lean against. They peer an eye open to stare at him; their dilated eyes becoming slits as sunlight hits the iris.

He continues. “Before I got stranded here, I lived in a temple. Not, uh, not a religious one— which… I guess… means it’s not a temple? But, regardless of that, the place was filled with all sorts of magic users. If you focused, the place had a foggy sensation of magic.” He tilts his head back to look up at the sky, slouching against the mer’s arms as his hands drop into his lap.

The mer rumbles something in their language.

“And despite it being filled with many talented magic users, the place never felt as… crackling as this island, y’know? The magic here is almost suffocating, almost as if it’s begging to be used.”

The mer growls, and he holds his hands up placatingly.

“I’m not going to use any of it; you’d tear my head off if I did, bozo,” he soothes. “It’s just… weird. Cool, but weird. I wonder if there are other places that have copious amounts of magic in them.” He finally shifts to look at the mer.

They look troubled, or as troubled as a sea creature can look.

“Have you ever been to a place like that? Besides here?”

The mer blinks slowly, looking as if they’re contemplating something.

He waits to see if they’ll nod or shake their head.

They shrug.

“You don’t know?” he asks incredulously. “How do you *not* know? If I went to a place full of magic, *I’d* know.” How could someone not realize that they’re surrounded by magic? This island practically suffocated him with its magic. Did the mer just not… feel any of its effects?

He startled when he felt the mer shift around him, glancing up to look at them when he realizes his gaze dropped to his hands.

Their magic hums to life, flaring up like when they were calling out for help. He expected their magic to shove its way down his throat like the island— but he’s pleasantly surprised as it flows around him, whispering in low tones like a morning sunbathe at the beachside. It reminds him of back home, where he’d wade into the calm waters just to feel the waves move around him.

Until he feels his nerves light up in fear.

The waters around him pull him from the sandy beach, funneling into a [] and pulling him til the sight of sand is a mere dream. He looks down to see dark shadows of dancing tentacles. A wave rages into him, dragging him meters downwards to a dark, deep hell— with only a ball of light below him that shines onto rows of sharp teeth.

He gasps for air instinctively, and when he breathes, the magic suddenly shifts. Instead of beating him down, it soothes down to curl around his own magic, back to how it felt before it changed.

The mer warbles worriedly, and he raises a hand up. “I’m fine. I’m fine, don’t worry. I get what you mean now.”

*Fuck,* of course the mer doesn’t realize when there’s powerful magic around. It’s because *they* have powerful magic too. He’s so stupid. Of course a merperson would have powerful magic. He even felt it when they were hurt.

The mer moves closer to him, pressing their nose against his hand and closing their eyes.

He makes a noise of confusion. “What are you…?” he trails off, gasping when the mer’s magic flared up again.

This time though, it feels different. Instead of crashing down on him, it showers down on him like gentle rain droplets on a dull, dreary day. He can’t even feel the strangling magic from the island any more. It’s… relieving; he hadn’t noticed how hard it was to breathe in until the magic was removed.

The mer peers an eye open, and he meets their gaze. Their eyes, now that he looks at it, aren't really blood red. It’s… darker. Maybe a mahogany, if he wants to get technical about it. But it still shines like a ruby in the light— maybe because their pupils are thinner than a stick and he can see more of their iris.

Their magic sings louder for a moment as if it was piercing into his head, and he resultantly jerks his hand back. “Ow, what the hell?” It felt like something was trying to worm into his *head.*

The mer warbles in concern and pulls their head back, their hands coming to cup around him instead.

He swats at their hands. “I’m fine, I’m fine. What was that?”

They pull their hands back with a grumble, their tail slapping against the water in an annoyed manner.

“Were you trying to do something?”

They nod, lifting a finger to his head and gently tapping it.

He swats at their hand again, taking a second to process what that could possibly mean. “Were you trying to… *get inside* my head?” Primes, only the most powerful of mages knew how to perform magic like that… mostly because it was magic hidden from the general public, but *still.*

The mer makes a so-so gesture with their hand.

He squints. “How the fuck do you ‘sort of try’ to mindreading? Actually— don’t answer that. I don’t even think you could with our limited communication skills.”

The mer slumps onto the sand with a nod. Obviously, they agree.

He sighs, flopping onto his back and closing his eyes to soak in the sunlight with the mer. “Right. Good talk.”

——

//////

——

-But one day, the mer is worriedly pacing- and- was the beach always that small? Why did it seem like it was shrinking? Techno noms.

Squidkid wakes up, feeling off.

He sits up, eyeing his surroundings. Everything around him feels… off. Nothing has visibly changed, or at least he thinks so, but the magic surrounding him has become lighter, hazier. It’s unsettling how the magic was no longer pressing down on his shoulders.

He frowns, rubbing his eyes as he drags himself up. Something was wrong.

He has half the mind to grab his blanket if only so he can maybe carry things if needed. The rest of his stuff in his camp were left behind. None of it was truly needed with the mer around.

...

He sees the mer beach onto the much smaller sandy surface, and he rushes over to them, stumbling into the water next to them,

“What is happening?”

The mer doesn’t grace him with a noise, only scooping him from the ground and pushing them both into the water.

He curses as their fingers curl around him, keeping him suspended over the water.

...

He throws the wet blanket at the mer’s face and it slaps across their eyes. He’s dropped into the water, salty water forcing its way up his nose and burning his eyes. He thrashes up back to the surface, and when he’s coughed the water out of his lungs, he looks up to see them pulling the blanket off their eyes.

They growl down at him, circling their arms around him.

A roar from behind him causes the mer to jerk their gaze up, and he spins to see his island sanctuary almost gone. From this far away, he can see a pair of front flippers and a head attached to a shell full of sand and trees.

He was on a giant fucking living turtle island this whole time.

His mouth goes dry.

That’s why they didn’t let him build a help signal.

#OOOOO!!! i know this is abandoned but i am looking at this with my big ol’ eyes……..!!

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