Hello! I decided to make a list of rules for all my oneshot requests, that way I don't have to make new request pages for different fandoms like I previously did. Below that will be a list for my masterlists as well!
Request Rules:
❧Please leave requests in my ask box! That way they're all in one spot and I don't have to go searching for it.
❧I'll only write for characters/fandoms I've already written for. Obviously I won't know how to write for a character I don't know, so please don't ask (yes this has happened before lol).
❧I do prefer to write for a female reader (it's the easiest for me description wise), but I am alright with a GN reader as well!
❧I'll include some of what I'm comfortable with writing below, but if you're unsure of anything I won't do, please feel free to ask me!
❧I can write: Fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, hurt/no comfort, gore/violence, yandere/obsessive, steamy, smut, and more! (Again, just ask if you're uncertain. :) )
❧My bio will say whether requests are open or closed. Even if they say closed, you can still submit a request! I just likely won't get to it for a while.
❧Please keep in mind that these are requests, so I will only complete them when/if I feel like it. Sometimes my inbox gets too full and I can't get to all of them.
That's all I can really think of at the moment. I'll add more if I think of anything else that's worth mentioning!
If Grace had a pet he would 100% be a cat person and no one can convince me otherwise
Aka I just wanted to write a fluffy oneshot with Grace and MC who is a cat sitter, cause he's kinda clueless and needs help
Well, this was a predicament.
It was the end of the day for the students and teachers of Grover Cleveland Middle. The kids had long since filed out, leaving the teachers to their own devices—grading papers, updating grades, tidying up the classroom, working on assignment plans, and so on.
Grace had locked up his classroom for the afternoon, a helmet on his head as he wandered down the hall. He struggled to buckle it with one hand, the other barely managing to shove a pile of papers into his bag.
There was quite a few assignments left for him to grade, so he figured he could do the rest at his apartment while ordering something for dinner. The thought of having the same lousy ramen for the fifth night in a row was making him sick. He desperately needed to go grocery shopping soon.
But that'd have to be for another day, seeing as he had to get these papers graded for tomorrow. So that was all he had in his plans for tonight. Not like he ever had any plans anyways, save for the occasional night out for the school faculty.
At least, that would've been his only plans, had he not been met with a small problem—a fuzzy, black and white problem.
Grace stared down at the kitten on his bike, curled up on the seat and peering up at him with wide, hazel eyes. He blinked a couple of times, as if to ensure he was actually seeing the small feline and it wasn't his sleep deprivation playing tricks on his brain.
Nope, still there. Still staring at him with those big, curious eyes.
"Hey there, little guy. Or girl, guess I don't know which you are." He mumbled, scratching the back of his head from beneath the lopsided helmet he wore. "Can you move please? I need to get home, and that bike is, unfortunately, my only form of transportation. Unless I want to sprint several blocks, which I don't."
The kitten blinked up at him slowly, a quiet mew leaving its mouth.
Right. He was talking to a cat.
He ran a hand along his face, pushing his glasses upwards as he rubbed his eyes. Moving a kitten seemed simple enough, though he didn't want to run the risk of getting his arm clawed to shreds and ending up with an infection.
While he stood there contemplating how to handle the situation, a figure approached from the sidewalk. The sound of heels clicking against the cement barely caught his attention, his gaze zeroed in on the cat in concentration, as if that'd somehow get it to move.
"Dr. Grace."
He nearly jumped out of his own skin, an involuntary yelp escaping as he whipped around to face the source. There stood the English teacher, Margaret Haynes, an older woman in her mid-sixties with brown hair that was starting to gray.
Her eyes crinkled at the edges, offering an apologetic smile. "Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you. I forgot to ask if you'd like to chaperone this upcoming field trip the eighth graders have. One of the teachers dropped out, so we need a new volunteer."
His head bobbed up and down, already agreeing before the words even left his mouth. "Sure. Yeah, that's perfectly fine with me. I can do that." He paused, eyeing the kitten on his seat once more, then turning to her with a sheepish smile. "Uhm, you wouldn't happen to have a solution for this, would you?"
Margaret followed his line of sight in confusion. Once her gaze landed on the black and white feline, it softened. "Well, what a cutie. Are you going to take it home?"
The blonde scratched at the back of his neck, his face scrunching up with uncertainty. "I don't exactly have the free time to take care of a cat. Not to mention I ride a bike, so I couldn't take it home either way." He reasoned, though his reply sounded more like an excuse to avoid the possibility. "But I don't want to accidentally scare it by trying to move it, so I've just been... standing here."
She gave an understanding hum and held out a hand towards him. "May I see your cardigan, Dr. Grace?"
The question took him aback, but he complied, awkwardly shifting his bag so he could slip the knitted material off his frame. He wordlessly handed it to the elderly lady, watching as she used it to step closer and carefully swaddle the stray feline. There was no fuss, the kitten remaining completely relaxed even as she lifted it to check the gender, a few quiet mews escaping now and then.
"She must be used to humans with how calm she is." Margaret noted, holding the balled up cardigan close. The kitten's head peaked out from the layers of fabric, her ears twitching while little noises kept leaving her.
No longer deterred by the possibility of a couple scratches, Grace reached forward to gently rub two fingers over the top of her tiny, fuzzy head. Almost immediately a hushed purr began to emit from her, her third eyelid creeping over her eyes out of relaxation—a little creepy, he'd admit.
"She is pretty cute. I don't think I've ever seen a cat with specks all over their fur like that. Reminds me of space with all its stars." He remarked, observing the various white dots that spread across her dark fur.
Margaret let out a hum, silently debating what to do with the feline now. "I'll move her further from the school, keep her away from all those rowdy kids." She suggested, having already ruled out the possibility of sending her home with him.
At least, that was until she noticed the conflicted expression he wore, his brows furrowed and lips in a subtle, worried frown. He was hesitating, one hand fiddling with the strap of his bag as he stared at the cat in her arms.
"Is that safe? What if she gets attacked by another animal, like a stray dog? Or some person could, for that matter. It's also too close to the streets, I think it's too dangerous for her to—" He began to rattle off his spiraling thoughts, his tone and mannerisms more than telling of where this was heading despite his own denial at first.
She was quick to interject before he could continue any longer. "She's a stray. I'm sure she'll figure it out." Then she paused, taking one last look at those wide, blue eyes brimmed with concern behind a pair of glasses, and rose an eyebrow. "Unless..?"
That's how Grace ended up with a kitten racing around his apartment late in the afternoon. He wasn't even sure if his landlord allowed pets, but it was too late now.
Given his bicycle situation, Margaret was nice enough to offer a ride. He couldn't exactly refuse if he wanted to take the kitten with, nor could he since he'd need to buy supplies for said kitten as well. Plus, she only lived about three blocks away, so that made him feel a little less bad about the whole ordeal.
Fortunately, her car also had a mounting rack for his bike, so he wouldn't have to bug her in the morning for a ride back to the school, either. As kind as the gesture was, he was already ashamed having someone else drive him around, let alone a woman twice his age. He didn't need to deal with that again first thing in the morning.
Grace had taken the time to set everything up. A litter box and small garbage bin was set in the corner of his apartment, while two bowls sat in the kitchen area against the wall, one filled with water and the other kibble. Then lastly a short scratching post sat in the living space, accompanied by a couple of toys that were tossed around for her to go wild with—she seemed to love the tinsel pompom balls the most.
For a minute he watched her play, going over the last part of the conversation he had with Margaret. He'd mentioned his concern with leaving the cat alone tomorrow for work, and in turn she told him she knew just the person to help out.
Apparently she used to have quite a few pets, and therefore had a particular pet sitter she always hired due to her exceptional care. This sitter was always attentive to the specific needs of each one, treating them with utmost love and care like they were one of her own. She primarily worked with cats too, which sounded like an excellent choice for someone as clueless as himself.
Margaret told him she'd give her a call and inform her about the situation. When he tried to bring up that he didn't have the money to pay for a pet sitter, she waved him off before driving away.
Not very reassuring. He wasn't sure whether that meant it'd be handled, or if he was about to lose this weeks paycheck to a small kitten—or rather a second one, after all the cat supplies he bought.
Guess he'd have to find out and deal with that in the morning... and have ramen for dinner again.
For now though, he needed a name.
The blonde's gaze followed the small cat, no longer interested in the toys around as she sniffed at the ground, exploring her new surroundings. He kept being drawn to the tiny specks all over her black fur, along with the short, white mittens she had on her front paws.
Something space related, then?
Luna? No, that was overused and sounded more like a dog name to him.
Star? Wow, Grace. That's very original.
Felis? It was a lost constellation based on a cat, which was cool. Didn't sound like a good name, though.
Félicette? The first and only cat sent to space. But that'd remind him of what happened to her afterwards and make him sad everytime he used it.
Choosing a name was a lot more difficult than he thought it'd be. He wasn't sure how long he sat there pondering on it, all while watching his new companion roam around his apartment.
Grace sighed and rubbed a hand over his face, the action shifting his glasses askew. "What should I name you? Got any ideas?" He asked the little fluffball, who had trotted up to his sitting form. The kitten mewed, rubbing up against his pant leg with an audibly loud purr. "I'm this close to naming you Kitty and calling it a day."
Those big, hazel eyes blinked up at him, pupils nearly swallowing the color whole as she continued to purr and rub her face against his leg. He leaned down to reach her, gently rubbing the top of her head. A smile formed on his lips when she leaned fully into his touch, her body nearly lifting off the ground in order to nuzzle at his palm.
Come on. Coming up with a name for this adorable ball of fuzz shouldn't be that hard. She reminded him of a night sky, where the moon and stars were sprinkled across a black canvas, with hues of violet, blue and red scattered across it—the cosmos, encompassed around the Earth's horizon.
Grace perked up, finally coming to a decision from that thought alone. "I like the name Cosmo." He said aloud, offering it like it was a suggestion the feline could deny or accept. "What do you think?"
A pitched, squeaky meow met his ears. Good enough for him.
Now with that out of the way, he could move onto his original plans while she settled. The grumbling of his stomach insisted food was an order. He could eat while he worked on grading those papers for tomorrow.
But as he stood up, his eyes roved around the apartment. It was in disarray, items scattered in way that was organized and familiar to his own mind. Everything had a place and purpose, and seeing as he hadn't had any company in god knows how long, he never considered it to be an issue.
Except for his bedroom. That was definitely a mess because he didn't have time to do laundry this week.
With a new kitten and a pet sitter expected to arrive tomorrow morning, the embarrassment was creeping in. There was no way he could leave it like this. What an awful first impression that would be.
Guess he had more to do tonight than he initially thought.
*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚
Grace got barely any sleep that night. Between grading papers and tidying his apartment, he crashed into his bed at around one in the morning. On top of that, Cosmo's energy was bursting through the roof, so he was constantly startled awake by the fluffball jumping on his stomach or wrestling his outstretched arm.
Eventually the kitten calmed down enough to lay in bed with him, curled up on the warmth of his bare chest while purring away like a little car engine. That lasted about an hour, before his alarm went off to start the day.
Needless to say, he was exhausted and not at all prepared to face a class of twenty rambunctious kids that kept asking him if the Earth was flat.
On top of that, after throwing on his clothes for the day and tidying up his appearance, he was met with the harsh reminder of not having any coffee left. He didn't really have anything in his kitchen aside from ramen packages, some canned and frozen foods, half a loaf of bread, and bunch of condiments.
Toast didn't sound appealing, so he'd wait it out until lunch time. The grumble of his stomach disagreed, but he didn't have much time to dwell on it due to a little gremlin meowing loudly at his feet.
Grace glanced down, a smile forming on his lips as they pawed insistently at his pant leg. "Guess I'm not the only one who's starving." He commented with a chuckle, carefully stepping around the feline who was whining louder by the second. "Alright, alright! I'm working on it, hold on... Climbing over my feet is not helping this move any faster."
It was a struggle – aka Cosmo circling and running over her bowl, preventing him from actually pouring the kibble in – but he managed to appease the demanding kitten. She was chowing down, face buried deep in the food like it'd disappear if she didn't devour it all right that second.
While she ate, Grace turned on the TV and began gathering his belongings, left scattered around the living room table from last night. The hum of the news played on the screen, his brain barely listening as he neatly stacked the graded papers to put in his bag. His laptop slid in beside it, only to pause as there was a slow, irregular knock at the door.
His head perked up, swiveling around to face it with wide eyes. Was the pet sitter here already? A glance at his watch showed he had about an hour before he had to leave, which meant half-an-hour until her scheduled arrival. Earlier than he expected, but he didn't mind.
The blonde was quick to get up and approach the door, scooping up Cosmo in the process when she decided to tag along. Even if he was in an apartment complex, he wasn't risking her bolting out there and making him chase after her. He was too tired for that.
He fiddled with the lock with one hand, cat cradled to his chest with the other. Another awkward knock hit the door – although it sounded lower than usual – before he finally got the thing unlocked and opened.
Immediately he was met with the sight of a woman, with (H/l), (H/c) hair that framed her face, while wide, (E/c) eyes stared back at him. She looked to be around his age, maybe a couple years younger from the youthful glow of her complexion. The surprise on her face quickly melted away into an eager beam, a smile so bright it put the sun to shame.
Grace froze where he stood, his hand resting on the door and a small cat squirming in the other. At first he didn't say anything, his brain short-circuiting and failing to form a proper sentence to greet her with. Instead he stared like the woman in front of him was something otherworldly.
He wasn't the type to believe in love at first sight, as he found it to be cliche and unrealistic whenever he watched any kind of romance movie. But in that moment, when he swore his heart skipped a beat and his breath hitched in his throat, he figured he might have to reconsider his stance on that.
Now it was starting to make sense why Margaret insisted so heavily on getting this specific pet sitter for him.
The woman shifted where she stood, breaking him out of whatever daze he'd fallen into. It was then that he noticed her outstretched foot that was once against the door, along with her arms being occupied with a paper bag and cup holder.
Ah, so that's why each knock sounded so strange and sparse. She couldn't use her hands since they were full.
And here he was, staring like an idiot instead of helping her. What a great first impression.
"O–oh! Let me help you with that, and please, come in." He sputtered out, quickly pinning the door with his hip so he could hold out his free hand. In return she handed over the bag, sending him a grateful look as she slipped past.
Grace followed after her, bumping the door closed behind them. Against his chest Cosmo was flailing around, unable to stay still as she tried to escape towards the new person. He quickly kneeled down before she could fall, letting the energetic fluffball jump from his grasp and rush over to her.
His gaze flickered upwards, watching as the (H/c)-haired woman set the drink carrier on the counter. "You must be, uhm— Actually, Mrs. Haynes never told me your name. But you're the cat sitter, right?" He winced, realizing he should've asked about that beforehand.
Then again, there was a lot of details he should've inquired about. He hadn't given it much thought since he'd been occupied with other tasks and being terrorized by a fluffy gremlin.
"That'd be me! I'm (Y/n)." She confirmed, a polite smile on her lips while she gestured for the bag in his hand. As he gave it to her, she briefly eyed the black and white cat that was circling and sniffing at her feet. "You're Dr. Grace, then? And this little cutie is..?"
He grinned, scooping up said troublemaker before she could try to climb up her pant leg—he caught her right before she was going to leap. She'd done that to him a few times already, and those claws may have been small, but they were sharp. Left behind a few scratches on his legs.
"Her name is Cosmo! And you can call me Ryland. Or Grace, most people call me that. Either is fine." He responded, holding the kitten to his chest as she tried to wiggle free with a whine. "Can I ask why you're here so early? N–not that I mind! It's completely fine, I was just curious."
(Y/n) watched him wrestle with the kitten, laughing under her breath when she broke free of his hold. The surprise on Grace's face was priceless as she clawed her way up to his shoulder, his body tensing inwards as he froze completely. His breaths even paused as if the smallest movement would accidentally knock the small feline off.
"I was hungry and figured you might be too. So I decided to come early so we could both have some breakfast." She explained, starting to open and dig through the paper bag she brought.
Her response was casual, as if it was completely normal that she brought him something. Meanwhile Grace was staring at her like a deer in headlights, still tense as Cosmo tried to chew on the side of his glasses, her fur tickling at his face.
"Oh, that's for... me?" He asked hesitantly, making sure he heard her correctly.
"Mhm! I wasn't sure how you liked your coffee, so I got some creamers and sugars just in case." She gestured towards the two empty cup holder spots filled with said condiments. Then she began to set out the food items from the bag, one-by-one for him to see. "I also got two breakfast sandwiches, one with bacon and one without, a blueberry muffin and a strawberry and cream pastry. So you can pick and choose what you like."
For a minute he could only stare at her beaming face, radiating nothing but warmth and eagerness. He was more than positive his heart was beating far too fast in his chest to be considered normal. Then Cosmo nearly smacked the glasses off his face, causing him to flinch and hurriedly fix them while her soft laughter met his ears.
He'd only known her for a couple minutes, and he was already convinced she was an angel. A beautiful, kind-hearted angel that went out of her way to get breakfast for him and even provide options in case he didn't like something.
He couldn't recall the last time someone had went out of their way for him like that. The fact she'd even considered that before they even met was affecting him more than he'd like to admit.
Oh, this was bad. Wherever his dumb brain was heading to was not good at all.
"You– you didn't have to do that." Finally he found his voice, a noticeable heat rising to his face out of embarrassment. "How much was it? I'll send you some money for it."
It was fruitless for him to try to offer that, as she was already waving him off before he even finished speaking. She retrieved the coffee cups from the carrier, before sending him a look that clearly showed she wasn't going to let him argue with her on this.
"I got us breakfast out of my own volition. You don't have to pay me anything, Grace." She insisted, flashing him a reassuring smile that had the red flush on his face darkening. Then she turned to the kitten who was actively trying to climb onto his head of dirty blonde hair. "Plus, it's my treat for letting me take care of this little cutie!"
Grace's face scrunched up, his brows furrowed and a frown pursing at his lips as he went to gently grab Cosmo. He adjusted the rowdy cat in his hands, staring down at her to avoid any eye contact.
"Uhm, speaking of that..." He started, heaving out a sigh as he reluctantly met her curious gaze. "I don't exactly have the money right now to pay for a sitter. Mrs. Haynes kind of sprung this on me last night. I'm not sure how much you charge, but I can try to—"
"Did she not tell you anything?" She cut him off, sounding amused as he stared back at her, his mouth slightly agape and face pinched in confusion. "You don't have to pay me. I owe her a few favors, and she cashed this in as one of them. So I'll be helping you out, just until you get situated with Cosmo."
His mouth shut, blinking a couple of times as he processed her words. It didn't make sense that Margaret would waste a favor on himself, no matter how kind of a person she was. They weren't that close, aside from their run-ins in the break room—also her constantly asking about when he'd find a lucky woman to have in his life.
His theory from earlier was starting to prove itself as these new details came to light.
He scratched at the back of his neck, letting Cosmo jump from his lowered arm in the process. "Well, uh, that's very nice of her. Though she really didn't have to waste a favor on me. I can still pay you, but it might be delayed until I can get—"
"Nope. It's fine, really." (Y/n) shot him down, not entertaining the thought for even a second. "Please, don't worry about it. All you should be thinking about right now, is having some food and coffee before you get bombarded by children for the rest of the day."
Grace wasn't convinced, his internal conflict evident in his expression and the way he refused to look at her. His eyes flickered back and forth between the food on the counter and Cosmo wandering off, a frown on his lips like the guilt from the two was already eating away at him.
Maybe he could convince Margaret to let him send (Y/n) some money through her? He couldn't in good conscience let her do this and not pay for her time. She was watching a cat from seven in the morning until two in the afternoon—more if he had to spend time after classes with students or for faculty meetings. Favor or not, it felt like he was taking advantage of her generosity.
It was like she could see the gears turning in his head as she sent him a warning stare. "Don't even think about it. This is what Margaret chose as her favor, so you have to deal with it. No buts." Her voice was playful yet stern, allowing no more room arguing as she gestured to the food. "Now, pick what you want before Cosmo eats it, because she looks close to figuring out how to get on the counter."
Grace's attention snapped back to the kitten at that. She was close, scaling up one of the stools in front of the island counter to reach the scent of fresh baked goods. So he'd have to deal with that being a regular occurrence already.
At that point, he had no choice but to comply to her wishes. He had one of the sandwiches – the one with bacon, obviously – along with the strawberry and cream pastry, occasionally sipping on his coffee after he'd adjusted it to his liking. While he munched on his breakfast, he provided what information he could on the kitten—where he found her, why he'd given her the name Cosmo, what her behavior was like so far, and the supplies he got for her.
When he mentioned the first part, (Y/n) rose an eyebrow, swallowing a mouthful of muffin before speaking. "Does she need to go to the vet? She was a stray, so it'd be best to get her checked out."
He let out a sigh, knowing she was right yet not wanting the headache of another bill to take care of. "I know, I will at some point. But I just spent my paycheck on the rest of this stuff, so I can't right now." He laughed, though it was uncomfortable and forced.
It was shameful to him, practically living paycheck to paycheck when he was in his late thirties. He knew how important it was to get a medical check-up for a stray, but he really couldn't afford a vet bill of all things right now.
The entire situation was becoming a glaring problem, one that he was beginning to regret solely from a financial standpoint, because he couldn't feel bad about taking in a stray kitten that likely wouldn't have made it though the night. It was a mess, but he'd just have to work through it whenever he could manage.
As he was taking another bite of his pastry, he saw her face light up. Immediately his stomach dropped, not even needing to hear the words before he knew what she was going to suggest. Unfortunately, the mouthful of food prevented him from interrupting her when she went to blurt out her offer.
"I can take her! One of my friends actually works at a vet clinic nearby. I have two cats of my own, so I visit her for them." She saw the troubled look on his face, quickly adding on more for further convincing. "Cost won't be a big issue for the initial check-up. She also gives me a discount."
His eyebrows scrunched up, confusion momentarily replacing the worry that was there prior. "Is that allowed for a veterinary clinic?"
"Probably not, but I get one from her anyway." She shrugged with a smile. "I'm taking her regardless. So there's no point in trying to talk me out of it."
They'd only just met and this woman was already doing too much for him. He wasn't sure whether to feel frustrated for burdening her with his issues, or absolutely smitten over her gracious nature—probably a mix of both at the moment.
Grace let out a huff, playfully squinting his eyes at her from behind his glasses. "You're being way too nice. I feel like I'm being set up into coming home and my place being robbed, cat and all."
That got a loud laugh out of her, nearly spitting out her coffee in the process. The reaction made him grin, easing a little of his guilt at the warm, fuzzy sensation it spread throughout him.
(Y/n) took a deep breath, trying to recover as the giggling subsided. "I promise I'm not going to steal anything." She teased, her smile widening as she stole a glance at the black and white fluffball rushing around the living room. "Or maybe just the cat, cause she's simply too adorable not to. I think the name you gave her is fitting."
"Yeah, she's definitely something." He agreed softly, though his eyes remained on her. When she glanced back to meet his stare, he offered a sheepish smile and fiddled with his coffee cup. "I would let you steal her, but she's grown on me after using my couch as a scratching post, right beside the one I bought her."
An amused breath left her. "You can expect her to never touch that thing. Everything is a scratching post except the actual scratching post." Her tone was joking, yet he could tell she was speaking from experience.
He almost glossed over that fact, didn't he? She said she had two cats, which he supposed made sense. Though he wondered who was watching them if she was currently here. A friend? A roommate? A partner?
He didn't like the thought of the last one.
"Guess I'll add new furniture onto my costs." He jested back, though he silently hoped that wouldn't be the case. Right as he was going to ask about her pets, he shot a glance down to his watch, only to jolt out of his seat. "Shoot! I have to go. Right now, or else I'll be late."
She watched the blonde rush around to gather his things, a concerned frown on her lips. "Do you need a ride? I can drive you if you want."
It was a tempting and sweet offer, especially with his sleepless night before—his body was not rested enough to ride a bicycle for several blocks. However, he simply couldn't bring himself to accept anymore from her.
"No, it's fine! You've done enough for me already. I'll be alright." He rushed out, slinging his bag over his shoulder as he headed towards the door. The helmet on the coat rack was snatched up before he turned back to her. "Thank you, for all this. I appreciate it more than you know. Not really sure what else I would've done without you."
She smiled, as bright and as radiant as the sun itself—to him, at least. "It's no problem, I'm happy to help. Have a good day, and good luck with those kids."
He buckled the helmet on his head with a laugh under his breath. "I'll need it. I'll see you later, (Y/n). Bye Cosmo." He waved to each of them, the fluffy kitten padding her way over once he opened the door. "Be good for her. No jumping on her or climbing up her pants or scratching the— Why am I talking like you're going to listen to me?"
(Y/n) managed to scoop up Cosmo before she could make an escape. She shook her head with a chuckle, watching the blonde slip out the door with a fond gleam in her eyes. "She's in good hands, I promise. Bye, Grace."
As he took one last glance at the (H/c)-haired woman, cradling the kitten to her chest as she mewed and wiggled around, he grinned. "I don't doubt that."
The door shut behind him, leaving him alone in the middle of the hallway. For a minute he didn't move, his back to the door of his apartment while he stared at the opposite wall, going over everything that just happened in the past hour. So little, yet enough to make his heartbeat erratic while his brain went haywire.
That kitten was definitely the best thing that happened to him in a while... As long as he didn't factor in how expensive she was becoming.
Warnings: Blood and injuries, panic attack, inaccurate medical/science descriptions, mutations, some suggestive themes
MORE OF THESE THREE LOSERS YIPPEEEE, because a single person wanted another part and that was enough for me 😌❤️
I have so much fun writing them, and now I already have two other parts planned I can't stop now huehehe
"This is your fault, y'know."
Astra's voice broke through the silence, her tone holding no vexation even with the accusatory statement, only exhaustion. She didn't spare him a glance, focused on the task that was currently laid across her lap. Her deft fingers worked around the bandages, wounding them around and underneath unruly strands of dirty blonde hair.
Turns out Grace had either knocked himself out when he hit his head, or passed out from sheer terror. She'd argue it was a mix of both. He didn't hit his head hard enough to cause trauma, save for a bloody scrape across his skin, and he looked on the verge of fainting from the sight of Simon alone.
Which was a fair reaction in her eyes. Seeing the large, muscled frame of a deranged looking man smeared in blood and missing an arm was a sight that'd send most people running—or in this case tumbling off a platform.
Ever so delicately she applied a layer of adhesive wrap, keeping the bandages in place before she brushed his messy, dirty blonde locks over top of it. She moved Grace's head off her lap, instead resting it on top of the random pillow and blanket that was in the lab.
Content with her work, her gaze finally returned to Simon, who was already watching with furrowed brows. Those dark brown eyes were uncertain, switching between staring daggers at the blonde scientist and gazing worriedly at the auburn-haired woman sat beside him. The distrust he emanated was palpable, his muscles tense and posture guarded, as if something bad would happen the minute Grace woke up.
He didn't say anything, having remained eerily silent ever since she explained their situation. It wasn't hard to read his expression, to visualize the gears turning inside his head, desperate to make sense of this outcome yet failing miserably. There was a fleeting moment of relief at first, an acknowledgment of how lucky they were to escape death's clutches. However, it was quickly overpowered by the paranoia of being stranded in an unknown place with a complete stranger.
With a sigh Astra hoisted herself up, causing his attention to shift to her approaching form. Wordlessly she slumped down on his right side—the one with his remaining arm, a reminder that brought a frown to her lips. Her hand found his, setting them on her lap while her fingers intertwined with his own.
"How are you feeling?" It was a broad question, one that could have multiple different answers to it. She didn't mind whichever one he answered to, seeking to provide any comfort she could to his reeling mind.
Simon stayed quiet, yet his fingers easily laced with her own, the tension in his body slowly ebbing away. His head fell backwards against the wall, staring off at the ceiling as he struggled to form a response that conveyed the tidal wave of emotions he was experiencing.
Waking up to that cluster of robot arms had been jarring, even worse when he realized he was missing one of his own. It was horrifying how he could still feel it, his brain sending signals to move his left hand but only able to wiggle around the stub that cut off at his bicep. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't close to crying, a burn behind his eyes that was worsening by the second.
He was stressed and irritated, that automated voice continuously ringing in his ears, unable to let him breathe for one fucking second. Simon was ready to throw the nearest object at it, except the sight of another empty bed halted his actions, the blood stains along it triggering an alarming fact in his already overwhelmed brain.
Astra.
The minute her name popped into his mind, he was hurling himself off the bed in a panic, ignoring the protests from the robot above and the way his body screamed in pain.
At first he struggled to come to terms with the fact he was alive. He was more than certain that the submarine had been shredded to pieces, and he was either ripped apart with it or drowned in blood—maybe a mixture of both, according to his lost arm.
Now he was realizing he wasn't alone when that happened, and yet said person was no where to be found.
Astra couldn't be dead. He refused to accept that, because what a cruel, sick fucking joke that fate would decide to give him a second chance at life, at freedom, yet tear the very thing that gave him hope for so long away from his fingertips to do so.
No, she was alive. She had to be.
The fear gripping at his chest was so tight it knocked the wind out of him, leaving him panting for breath when he stumbled out of the room. Under normal circumstances he would've been more cautious of his new surroundings, knowing that he could've been aboard a ship with dangerous people on it. Right now however, all that was leading him was the pit of dread in his stomach and the rawness in his throat that threatened to spill over if he didn't find her soon.
Everything was spiraling. He couldn't focus, couldn't breathe, could hear his own heartbeat racing and the throb of his head like a hammer slamming into his skull. It was hard to listen over the blood roaring in his ears, but he managed to hear it anyway—the faint sound of a voice chattering away, distinctly male.
Worry twisted into unbridled anger, blinding every other emotion as it ran through his veins like molten lava. Abhorrent scenarios popped into his head, fueling the fire burning inside him as he stormed in that direction, blood-coated boots thundering across the floor with only one thought in mind now.
He shouldn't have jumped to conclusions so fast, shouldn't have stomped in there like he was about to take someone's head clean off. Though, admittedly, that was the only plan he had at the time.
Once he spotted the head of blonde hair he bristled, alarm bells ringing loudly in his head at the sight of an unfamiliar face. Then she turned around, and all those thoughts vanished without a trace, relief flooding his body to the point he could've cried.
Except he didn't, too riled up from his own rage to calm down. Instead he directed his attention to the tall man beside her, who looked at him like he was actively staring down the barrel of a gun.
Simon wouldn't admit it, but he felt a sliver of satisfaction when Grace hit the floor. To him, it was deserved for making him wake up alone in a frenzy. There was also something else, an unpleasant tug in his chest from the scene of them leaning against one another, one he chose to shove down.
The anger had settled, though his mind remained a muddled mess, struggling to grasp how any of this was possible.
A long, heavy sigh left him as his eyes fell shut, his eyebrows pinching together. "I don't know." That was the best response he could give, unable to describe what he was feeling with anything else.
Astra nibbled on her bottom lip, gaze locked on their hands as she internally debated with herself. "Okay... Let's start with anything physical. How's your pain? Especially with your, uhm, lack of an arm?"
A huff of a laugh escaped him from her awkward phrasing. "I feel like shit, and it's... weird. It's like it's still there, but there's nothing." He mumbled, his left shoulder shifting as if his arm was moving beside him. "And it fucking hurts, too. It shouldn't when there's nothing there to even feel."
"Phantom limb pain. It's when the brain continues to process signals from the missing limb. The nervous systems connection is still there, even if the nerves aren't." Astra explained, giving a light, reassuring squeeze to his hand in her lap. "It might take a while for your body to adjust. Until then, you'll likely feel different sensations, as if your arm was never gone." There was a brief pause, then she added on. "Stress and fatigue can make it worse."
Simon scoffed at that last part, clearly not pleased with that extra tidbit of information. "I guess it's not going away anytime soon, then."
"Maybe if Rocky were here, he could've made you a cool new arm." She tried to lighten the mood, only to see his face scrunch up from her peripheral. She turned her head towards him with a raised eyebrow. "What's that face for?"
Simon tilted his head down, glancing at Astra then the sleeping body across the room from them, his jaw clenching. "You shouldn't believe what he says so easily."
Almost immediately she rolled her eyes. She should've known he'd be less willing to trust Grace, she knew from experience that he was a tough shell to crack. But she couldn't help the frustration from sinking in at his resistance.
To Simon, everyone was a potential threat until proven otherwise—years of isolation and cruel treatment from the C.O.I. guards likely had a hand in heightening that paranoia. She could understand his hesitation, that he'd need time to process and adapt, she did as well. But at the same time she found it a little ridiculous how doubtful he was being, especially when it came to who they were talking about.
Grace, out of all the people she's met in her life, was an embodiment of innocence. He was basically a golden retriever trapped in a human's body.
"You really think Grace is a threat? He freaked out at the mere sight of you." She pointed out, making a sound that was between a scoff and a laugh. At that, Simon's stern expression faltered and he glanced away with a huff—to her, a non-verbal surrender. "Thought so. Listen, we can discuss our situation when he wakes up if you need further convincing. For now, I think you need a warm shower to relax for a bit, and a change of clothes. Sound good?"
While he wasn't fully convinced, all it took was one look at the pleading smile on her lips and that hopeful gleam in her mismatched irises before he caved. He shoved those doubts into the back of his mind, a long, shaky breath leaving through his nose as he gave a careful squeeze to her palm.
"..Alright, sure." He murmured after a pause, not sounding too thrilled about it, but not outright rejecting the idea. He needed out of these disgusting clothes, anyway.
"Good! I can show you where the bathroom is, then try to figure out where the extra clothes are." While she spoke she stood up, using her grip on his hand to help him up with her. "Follow me."
She ended up doing those steps in the opposite order, due to an insistent Simon who refused to let go of her hand, as if she would disappear as soon as he did so. She didn't mind, going through the motions of finding the duffle bags with clothes, assuming the one she found was Grace's judging by the graphic t-shirts inside. Hopefully he wouldn't mind lending more clothes for Simon's sake, cause like herself his outfit was destroyed, save for the boots.
After that she took a minute to remember where the bathroom was, taking the lead while she dragged Simon by their interlocked hands. Once there she set the clothes inside and went to shuffle out of the small space, only for his grip to tighten.
Astra sent him a questioning look, to which his gaze fell away from her own. "Uh, where are you gonna be while I..?" His voice was uncharacteristically small, a subtle yet noticeable tremble to each word.
Her gaze softened, quickly picking up on what he was worried about. "I'll wait outside the door for you until you're finished, okay? I'll be right there if you need anything."
Hearing her say that was like a weight lifted off his shoulders, his body visibly relaxing at the thought of her being nearby. That's all the reassurance he needed. "Okay."
Before he slipped into the bathroom, he slid off his bracelet and handed to her, mumbling something about her, "Keeping it safe for him." She took it with utmost delicacy, cradling a precious part of him that he entrusted with her, her thumb gently rubbing over the glass pendant. There was a crack in it, breaking off into smaller fractures like roots growing from a tree—she'd have to see if Grace had anything to repair it with later.
Astra kept her promise, remaining seated across the bathroom door with her back propped against the wall. She closed her eyes, letting her mind wander off while listening to the sound of the water running.
By the time Simon was done cleaning up, she swore only ten minutes had passed. Unlike herself, who had spent about half an hour basking in the warmth of the water sprinkling on her bare skin, he didn't appear to find as much comfort from it.
Her mismatched eyes flickered over his form as he stepped outside, a smile twitching at the corners of her lips. On him was a black shirt that read, I had potential, with a depiction of a ball at the bottom of a curve. It was a little tight for his muscled figure, but it'd have to do.
Astra hopped up from her sitting position, a hand extended outwards with the bracelet hanging from it. "Feeling more relaxed now?" She asked, her smile widening as he gently grabbed the bracelet with a begrudging mumble of confirmation. "Good! Come with me so Armando can give you some more morphine for your pain. I'll redo your bandages."
Simon pulled a face, slowly falling into step with her as they trailed back to the room they woke up in. "That thing creeps me out."
She hummed, her face scrunching up in a way that showed she wasn't too enthusiastic about seeing the robot, either. "Me too, but I think it's the only thing on this ship that can admister any type of medication. Sooo..."
They tried to make it quick, allowing the cluster of robot arms to give him a shot of morphine before heading back to the lab area. When they arrived Grace was still out like a light, which she found a little worrisome, given he was reaching a time frame that could indicate a moderate brain injury. Though, she supposed his prolonged unconscious state could be due to his mentioned sleep deprivation, too.
She hoped it was more so the latter, but neither was life-threatening, so he should be fine. Hopefully he'd gain consciousness soon so she could check him over.
As they entered a small, bright green bag with various colors dotted on it caught her eye. She lit up, scooping up the bag half-full of those tiny, round candies and wordlessly holding them out towards Simon. In return, he fixed her with a squinted, quizzical stare.
"It's candy. Grace gave me them along with some noodles, but I'm not sure where the food is stored. So you can have these in the meantime." She offered with a shrug, figuring it was better than nothing while they waited.
Simon eyed the colorful bag, carefully plucking them out of her hand. For a moment he simply stared, observing the small candies inside while she ran off. In her rush to patch up Grace's head earlier, she had left the rest of the medical kit behind in the bathroom.
When she came back, she walked in right as Simon popped one in his mouth, the bag set aside on a table. His face twisted unpleasantly, the small candy getting spit out nearly the second after it hit his tongue.
"Ugh, those are awful! Why're they so acidic?" He complained, glaring down at the round, red candy on the floor as if it had personally offended him.
A burst of laughter escaped her, unable to contain her giggles even as her hand tried to muffle them. "You don't like them? I thought they were good, a nice combination of sour and sweetness."
His gaze shifted to her, expression entirely blank as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "I'd rather starve than eat that." He deadpanned.
She snorted and rolled her eyes at him. "You're dramatic. C'mere, let me bandage your arms back up. Did you have anything else that needed new stitching, disinfecting or bandaging?" She listed off, settling on the floor with the med-kit next to her.
He went to sit beside her with a grunt, the once simple action taking longer than usual due to his off-center balance. "No, don't think so. Everything else looked fine to me."
"Hm. I'll run a check up on you tomorrow to make sure you're telling the truth." Her voice was teasing, a smirk on her lips as she retrieved a roll of bandages, scissors and adhesive wrap.
Simon rose an eyebrow, his dark brown eyes narrowing on her. "You don't trust me?" He asked, pretending to be wounded by her implication.
She shook her head, her smile growing as she scooted closer to him with the supplies in hand. "After you lied in the submarine and had me using up nearly all the bandages on myself? No, not completely."
"Fair point." He hummed, though he didn't look apologetic about it in the slightest. Had he been faced with the option again, he still would've prioritized her well-being over himself.
After all, it was his fault she was stuck in that metal death trap with him in the first place. Keeping her safe despite their inevitable demise was the least he could do. He would've done anything for her if he had the power, anything to rid of the guilt eating him alive.
It was there even now, silently sitting in the pit of his stomach like a rock, in spite of their inexplicable second chance.
She deserved more.
Astra stayed silent after that, though a fraction of a smile remained while she got to work on bandaging his residual limb. With his remaining one, she had to apply some steroid cream, given the severe radiation burns along his forearm. She had a couple as well, though hers were more of a red, itchy patch on her skin, having had less exposure to the x-ray camera than himself. She warned him not to press it so much, but he didn't listen.
"That robot did a damn good job of fixing you up. I'm not sure I would've known how to do a surgical procedure like that." She remarked while putting the remaining supplies back into the medical kit.
Simon made a noise in objection, shifting around his left shoulder and wincing at the pain that shot across there—clearly the morphine hadn't kicked in yet. "Doesn't feel like it did a good job, fucking hurts like hell. Shouldn't the pain go away already?"
"You lost an entire limb, Simon. It's going to hurt for a while, even with medication. You can't be impatient when it comes to healing." Astra replied, a blank look on her face from his complaining. "Now, let me see the scrapes and bruises on your face. I'll put a little cream on those, too."
She was already dipping her fingers in the jar with her left hand, the other raising to cup along the bottom of his scruffy jaw. Except she paused, feeling a different texture beneath her fingers other than the rough patch of skin and the scratchy hairs of his beard. No, this was hard, smooth and sharp at the end—not an injury, but something else entirely.
With furrowed brows she turned her head upwards to scan over his face, only for her mismatched eyes to widen. Her lips parted, attempting and failing to verbalize what she was seeing, sputtering over the syllables in an incomprehensible manner.
Simon's brown eyes quickly scanned over her countenance, the combination of shock, horror and fascination sending mixed signals to his brain. "What? What's wrong? Why're you making that face?" The words left him in a rush, panic starting to creep in from her strange behavior.
Astra didn't speak right away, tilting his head to the side to get a better look. Despite the worry etched into his facial features, he was pliable to her touch, the only thing grounding him at that very moment. Her fingers slid upwards with delicacy, brushing away some locks of hair to view the newfound discovery.
After a minute passed she finally broke the tense silence, blinking rapidly and stumbling over her words. "Uhm, it's a– it's definitely something... Something I've never seen before from a medical standpoint." She squinted, leaning closer to confirm her own eyes weren't tricking her. "Are those... canine teeth..?"
"What's that supposed to mean?" He blurted out, taken aback by the words coming out of her mouth. Clumsy with nerves, he quickly raised a hand up to touch the area she had. The regret hit him the minute he did so. "What the fuck?! What the— There's no fucking way this is—"
Alarms were blaring in his head at the feeling beneath his fingertips, getting poked by the pointed edges of teeth that appeared to be growing out of his cheek. The inside of his mouth stayed normal, each tooth the same as he prodded at them with his tongue. That was a relief at the very least, but it didn't diminish his rising panic from whatever the fuck was happening on the outside of his face.
His hand was shoved away, so that both of her own could grab either side of his face and bring him closer. "Stay still! I need to examine your face more, cause I think..." She trailed off, making eye contact with him first, then shifting her attention towards the left side of his head. "Your left iris looks like it's shifting to red, and your ear appears to be growing... fin spines?"
Great. That extra examination didn't make him feel better in the slightest.
Simon grabbed her wrist, his grip tightening around there like a physical anchor to keep his mind from spiraling out of control. "So I'm turning into some fucking fish monster, or what?" He rushed out, struggling to keep his voice calm as it began to waver.
The expression Astra wore was uncertain, her arm lowering until her hand rested on his thigh, allowing him to keep his hold on her. Some form of realization was slowly settling in, her furrowed eyebrows raising, her squinted eyes widening and her pursed lips parting in a small 'o' shape.
"I– I don't know exactly, but it has to be some kind of mutation effect from the blood. Now that I think about it, my spine did feel a little bumpy when I was in the shower..." With her free hand she went to reach behind her, searching underneath the cardigan and shirt she wore until her mouth dropped open in disbelief. "Oh my god."
Once again his panic flared, his body jolting forward on instinct. "What is it? Let me see." His tone was hasty, his hand leaving her wrist to grab at her side and usher her around, not giving her a chance to explain.
She complied, sliding off the cardigan and tossing it aside as she turned around. Her auburn hair was swiped over one shoulder before she grabbed both sides of the shirt at the hem, lifting the fabric up until it was bunched around her chest.
There was pure silence, to where she could only hear her erratic heartbeat pounding in her eardrums. Her lungs were constricting, squeezing painfully in her chest as she waited with bated breath.
When the anxiety twisting in her stomach became too much to bare, she broke the silence, her voice a heavy whisper. "Am I– Are there... fins or anything growing along my back..?"
The quiet remained, accompanied by a gentle touch across her back. An involuntary breath left her, a shiver running down her spine as his warm, calloused palm trailed up, fingers tracing around the sensitive area of her back as if he were afraid to hurt her.
She could feel it, both from the way he skimmed around them and the new nerve-endings that connected her to them. It wasn't particularly troubling, at least not in the sense that it would affect her, but rather if it was going to keep growing. That's where her dread stemmed from, the idea that these mutations wouldn't stop until they became whatever attacked them in the blood ocean.
Now the apprehension was really getting to her. She was this close to throwing up her noodles from earlier.
Simon heard her scattered breathing, leading him to finally sputter out an answer that was as bewildered as she felt. "It, uh– it looks that way. Yeah..."
She spared a glance over her shoulder, her gaze meeting his own as it snapped upwards, the same concern reflected in both. His hand rested on the side of her lower back, a subconscious action that would've normally flustered her, had her brain not been in a frenzy over this horrifying revelation.
With a deep breath through her nose and out her mouth, she went to speak, except a low groan beat her to it.
Their attention snapped over to the source, seeing a disheveled and disoriented Grace rising from his pillow and blanket on the floor. His hair was a mess and the glasses on his face were askew, not bothering to fix either as his dazed eyes searched around the lab in confusion.
"Wha– What's going on? God, my head hurts..." Another groan left him, his hand raising to soothe the throbbing ache at the back of his skull.
It took him a solid minute to focus, for his blurry gaze to register the sight that was before him after he lazily adjusted the glasses to rest on the bridge of his nose. He blinked, blue eyes flickering back and forth between the two who looked like deers caught in headlights.
Then his eyes trailed lower, noticing the fox cardigan had been discarded. Astra's hands were lifting the fabric of her shirt halfway up her body to reveal the pale, freckled skin of her back, stomach and a sliver of her chest from below. All while Simon's hand rested dangerously low along her back, his own figure now adorned with a graphic t-shirt of his that hugged his muscled form a little too tightly.
For a minute Grace simply stared, blinking a couple of times until his eyes and brain finally caught up on what he was seeing. Two people he just met – very attractive ones, at that – sitting a few feet away, looking like they were about to—
Oh.
Oh.
His face exploded in red, every ounce of blood in his body either rushing up there or lower, despite how loudly his own mind was screaming at himself.
His hands fumbled to cover his face, uncaring to the glasses he knocked off as he was more concerned with shielding his eyes. "I– I'm sorry! Am I interrupting something? I mean, obviously I am, god— I'm so sorry, I wasn't expecting you two to, well, y'know—"
"We're mutating."
Oh, okay. So not the other thing. That's good, then he didn't end up—
Wait a minute. What did she say?
Grace peeked at her from behind his fingers, able to feel the heat radiating off of his own face. He did a double-take, eyes flickering to the exposed section of her skin to see what she meant, having missed it in his own daze. There was definitely something poking out from her spine, similar to tiny dorsal fins.
He watched Astra shove her shirt back down, much to his relief and disappointment—that other part of himself needed to shut up before he melted into a shameful puddle.
"There's canine teeth growing out of Simon's cheek, his eye is turning red, and his ear has fin spines. My back also seems to be growing fins, right along the spine." Astra hurriedly explained, her fingers fidgeting in her lap as she glanced back and forth between the two men. "It's likely some kind of mutation from the blood ocean, but I'm not sure to what extent it'll go to."
Slowly his hands fell away from his face, the heat from earlier persisting as a red dusting across his cheeks. He pushed himself into a proper sitting position, ignoring the dull ache of his head as he reached to grab his fallen glasses and put them back on.
"I mean, the best we can do is monitor your symptoms. It could be spreading through your bloodstream and altering the DNA sequence of the blood cells as they multiply and cause more genetic mutations." He stated as a possibility, only to backpedal when he was met with two distinct expressions—a knowing grimace and a dissatisfied scowl. "Or– or there's a possibility it only affected certain parts of your body by inserting a nucleotide that wasn't there before, and that's all it got to do before you magically poofed into existence here, and the remaining mutated cells... Poof, dissappeared after that?"
That didn't sound logical in the slightest, but then again, nothing about this situation was. Two people from a separate dimension, transported to this one – on the Hail Mary that was light-years from Earth, no less – after almost dying to the depths of an ocean made of blood and some horrifying, mutated monster that wanted to devour them.
Maybe it was okay if his rationale was flawed in that regard, even more so when Astra's troubled expression eased back to normal at the sliver of hope it provided. As for Simon, he couldn't really tell if he was relieved or not with his consistently gloomy demeanor.
Grace scratched at the back of his neck, a nervous habit driven by the dark stare that was burning a hole into his head. "Just throwing out ideas here. I'm not exactly familiar with how an ocean of blood mutates people, or any mutations of this sort, for that matter."
Astra was quick chime in, seeing as Grace's inhibition was worsening under the weight of Simon's relentless glower. If she hadn't felt bad for his current well-being, she would've smacked him on the back of the head.
"We'll do that. We can keep observing for any progression or changes, and hopefully it ends up being the latter." She decided with a nod, before her eyebrows pinched together in thought. "We never studied any mutations from the blood ocean at the C.O.I., or at least we never recorded any external alterations to the body. Only internal, which was, uhm..." She didn't finish her sentence, though the wince she gave spoke volumes.
Even without the knowledge of how these new mutations worked, the overwhelming reminder of those researchers from the SM-8 and what happened to them was plenty reason for her to feel perturbed about it. The single failed experiment they had at the C.O.I. that first labeled the substance of the blood ocean as dangerous didn't help ease her nerves much, either.
For now, she tried not to think about it. There was no use in losing her mind over something she had no control over.
She shook her head, directing her attention back to Grace with a ghost of a smile. "Nevermind, it's not important. I'm just glad to know that brain of yours is still working. Had me worried with how long you were out." Her tone had a teasing lift to it, conflicting with the concerned glint in her gaze as she scanned him over.
The blonde's eyebrows rose, having completely glossed over the event that caused his splitting headache. In the chaos of it all, waking up to that scene and then the unexpected reveal of their mutations, he hadn't had enough time to remember what occurred, only that his head was bandaged from it.
Now that he did have time to recall what lead to his injury – specifically the person who caused it – he was unable to look in either of their direction.
"Right, that. Yeah, I'm fine. I feel fine, at least. My head hurts, but my brain is still working, so I think I'll survive." He stumbled over the words, suddenly hyper-aware of Simon's presence—that haunting image would be forever etched into his memory.
An amused breath left her, her next words playful. "Well, your cognitive function appears to be fine. Doesn't seem to have changed from how it normally is." Then her eyes scanned over Grace's tense, fidgety form, now flickering towards Simon with an expectant look. "I think an apology is in order for that little mishap."
At first Simon didn't register it, lost in his own thoughts until she gave a light smack to his chest. Those dark brown eyes snapped to her, his eyebrows scrunched together and lip curled in confusion, until she gestured towards Grace with her head.
He rolled his eyes, yet nonetheless complied to her wishes, the words rolling off his tongue in a lazy, indifferent manner. "Right. Sorry you hit your head. But you didn't die, so I don't see why it's a big deal."
The auburn-haired woman blinked at his apology, if it could even be called that. Slowly she turned towards Grace, who stared back at her with an expression that practically screamed, 'Oh my god my life is danger.'
She feared it was going to take a while for Simon to adjust to Grace's presence, given his history with... well, people in general. He's always been closed off, even before the incident at Filament Station. Given how long it took him to warm up to her, this might turn out to be a long trip.
"That... We'll work on that." She sighed, too frazzled at this point to even correct him. "How are you feeling, Grace? Your cognition doesn't appear to be affected, but is there anything else? Headaches or lightheadedness? Blurry or doubled vision?"
Grace swallowed, his mouth feeling abnormally dry. He wasn't sure whether to blame it on a lack of hydration or the uncomfortable awareness of Simon's hard stare, like he was scrutinizing every move he made.
"Yes to the headache, no to the other stuff. I don't think I hit my head that hard... Did I?" The question was mumbled to himself, his hand skimming over the bandages around his forehead.
Another head injury to add onto, given he smacked his forehead on the pilot console when the fuel tanks were leaking, and he got hit by metal debris when retrieving the samples from Adrian before that. So that's three head related injuries total. At this point he was lucky if he didn't sustain any lasting trauma to his brain.
Astra hummed in acknowledgment while reaching over to grab the cardigan she discarded. "I'd say it wasn't enough to cause any major trauma. But I'd take it easy for while, and let me know if the headache worsens or if you experience any other symptoms."
He watched as she shrugged the material back on, covering up the bandages that were layered across her arms. A smile tugged at the corners of his lips and his eyes squinted. "Will do, Doc." The nickname slipped off his tongue, playful yet fond.
She waved him off with a huff, trying and failing to hide the redness that dusted across her freckled complexion as she mumbled under her breath. His smile split into a humored grin, one that faltered just as quick as it came when he made the mistake of glancing towards the other person in the room.
The lax posture of his body vanished, every muscle tensing up when he met the narrowed eyes of the dark-haired man, one iris a dark brown, the other being steadily taken over by crimson.
Grace figured it was the combination of his height and being covered in blood that made him intimidating. But no, he was still very much terrifying from where he sat on the floor, staring him down like he was waiting for him to make one wrong move to justify his cynicism.
He cleared his throat, struggling and failing to maintain eye contact as the man's gaze bored into his. "I don't think I, uh– We never got properly introduced to one another. Your name is Simon, right? I'm Grace. Or Ryland, actually, but most people call me Grace."
The silence that followed was suffocating, his blue eyes frantically darting towards Astra for assistance, only to be met with complete defeat as she gave a helpless shrug of her shoulders.
This was going well. A socially awkward scientist that rambled a lot, compared to a brooding – whatever he was – that barely spoke a word and looked perpetually annoyed by every syllable that left his mouth.
Yeah, he was sure they'd get along just fine.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity of an uneasy stare-off, Simon spoke, the deep rumble of his voice completely aloof. "I know, she told me already."
Not exactly the response Grace was hoping for. "Oh, right. I guess I should've assumed you two talked while I was knocked out." He chuckled, the sound forced as he dragged a hand through his hair.
The tension was painful, and Astra could see that Grace was becoming increasingly stressed the longer Simon pinned him with his accusatory stare. She knew why he was reacting the way he was, but she was adamant on proving Grace's pure intentions.
"Simon was hoping you could provide more information on how you ended up here." She broke the silence, almost laughing at how Grace's taut form visibly sagged at her intervention. "I'm a little curious myself. You didn't delve into that part much, aside from being sent involuntarily."
For the first time Simon's hardened stare faltered at that last word, almost forgetting that key detail in its entirety. Slowly his countenance shifted, not quite erasing the wariness there, but adding a new layer of understanding he hadn't factored in before.
The blonde was more than willing to dive into a new topic, anything to rid of the previous awkwardness. "I mean, I don't think there's much to tell. As I mentioned before, there was an explosion from the astrophage lab that killed two of the astronauts chosen to board the Hail Mary. I'm still not sure how the incident happened, since there shouldn't have been enough astrophage to cause such a massive explosion."
His face scrunched up before his hand waved off the thought. "Whatever the reason, it left them with two astronauts instead of four, the captain and the, uh, I think she was the materials specialist? Either way, they didn't have someone on board that'd know how astrophage worked, thus came the last minute and highly unwilling solution: Me!" He grinned and made little jazz hands in the air for emphasis, earning a humored noise from Astra and a raised eyebrow from Simon.
"So they sent you against your will, to your death, just because you were the only scientist they had that studied this astrophage stuff?" Simon shortened for clarity, his tone incredulous.
"Yes, but I'm not a scientist." They both shot Grace a puzzled look at that statement. He nervously scratched at the back of his neck, the smile he wore turning sheepish. "I have a PhD in molecular biology, but I'm just a middle school science teacher. I only got dragged into this position due to a stupid paper I wrote during my academic years."
He could see the intrigue on Astra's face, to which he was quick to interject before she could ask the question he dreaded answering. "Please don't ask about it. I'd rather not get into it, it's– it's embarrassing."
Her mouth closed, blinking in surprise until a sliver of mirth slipped into her smile. "Alright, I won't ask. But that must've been some paper to land a teacher of all things in the middle of space." She jested, biting back a laugh at the red hue that started to form at the tip of his ears.
He ran a hand over his flushed face, adjusting his crooked glasses in the process. "All you need to know is that paper was a mistake. For more reasons than one." He jokingly mumbled while gesturing around them. "Though, I can't say this mission has been all bad. I met Rocky, and now you guys! Which is a scientific mystery in itself that I don't think will ever be solved."
The auburn-haired woman shrugged her shoulders with a grin. "Now you have new people to keep you company on the way back to Earth, so you don't die of loneliness."
"Not like we had much of a choice on where we went." Simon grumbled, his bitterness returning, though not directed at anyone in particular—a certain scientist was grateful for that.
Astra could see where it was stemming from, knowing that getting shot back into the vastness of space wasn't the most ideal scenario. At least not in comparison to the latter, where they would've been back on a planet that ensured their safety. However, they were alive, and that's all that mattered to her for now.
"No, but I'd say this is better than where we were, and we have a second opportunity to go home. A home that didn't exist anymore." She pointed out with a sigh, her patience wearing a little thin by his demeanor.
Grace glanced between the two, picking up on the rising tension and deciding to, stupidly, slice through it. Sometimes he wished he'd keep his mouth shut, but his ever inquisitive brain always had other plans.
"What did you do, Simon?" The minute the vague question left his mouth, he cringed, shrinking into himself at the puzzled stare he received from said person. "What I mean is, I imagine you also had some kind of role at this, uh, Eden Station? I figured since Astra mentioned being a doctor and scientist, that you had a job as well? Or maybe not? I don't know—"
Amidst his uncertain rambling, Astra and Simon shared a look, an unspoken agreement between the two—don't mention any parts that involved his role as The Butcher and the conviction that followed. With how antsy Grace was around him, that new information would send him over the edge.
"I was an engineer." Simon answered instead, interrupting the blonde who was stumbling over his words. It wasn't a complete lie, but it wasn't the main role he took on at Eden. "Was in charge of maintaining the stations life systems and technical equipment, repairing the ships engines, stuff like that."
A woman who was a doctor and scientist, and a man that was an engineer. Not only did he have people to join him on his journey home, but they were both intelligent in the two fields he lacked in.
Would've been nice if they appeared before all the choas that erupted, would've saved him, and Rocky, a major breakdown and multiple injuries. But at least he had them now for future instances.
Grace found himself relaxing a little more, for once getting a response that didn't sound hostile. "We could've used your help if you had arrived earlier. Two of the fuel tanks started leaking and it took Rocky and I a while to make the new ones. Rocky did most of it, actually." He admitted with an embarrassed laugh. "They're working fine, but Rocky isn't here to maintain them. I'm a little clueless about it, so I try not to mess with them if I can help it."
Simon hummed, scratching at his beard as he stared off in thought. "I can take over maintenance for it. I'll make sure you and... Rocky didn't fuck it up to where it might leak again." He muttered with a side-glance, a clear hesitation when it came to mentioning the supposed alien that traveled with him.
"Yeah, that's probably for the best." The blonde agreed nervously, averting his gaze elsewhere.
Seeing as their conversation was dwindling, Astra perked up as her attention snapped towards Simon. "You were also a gardener, weren't you? Took care of the Last Tree and the plants around it." She mentioned with an endeared smile.
She remembered the times Simon would talk so fondly about it, the only piece of Eden he could look back on without regret. They had a ritual, with the leaves and their bracelets, as well as a routine to maintain the tree and the surrounding garden. Aside from the gruesome reality of what fed the soil of the plant life, Simon told her it always felt peaceful in there, a literal breath of fresh air that brought life back into his soul.
It was a physical reminder of why he was still fighting to survive in a world of infinite darkness with no future in sight. If a tree could bloom in the emptiness of space, could live despite all odds being against it, then so could he.
And he had a damn good reason to, the minute a head of auburn hair popped into that cell window, before unceremoniously smacking her nose against the bars. The memory almost made him laugh, that signature bandage on her nose even now.
It made him all the more thankful for this second chance, even if it wasn't the most optimal setting. At least they were alive—she was alive.
Simon fiddled with the bracelet around his wrist, resting it in the palm of his hand. "It was more of a obligation that everyone on Eden had to partake in." He corrected, yet there was a softness when he spoke, a familiarity that made his chest ache. "I didn't get to do it often, but yeah, I enjoyed it. Gave me some peace of mind."
It was like a light bulb went off in Grace's head the second he mentioned it, an idea that would – hopefully – lead to a little less hostility between the two.
"There's a greenhouse room on the Hail Mary! It was meant to grow food for the crew once supplies ran out, but since it's only been me, I have a good amount left." He spoke with growing excitement, already pushing himself upwards to stand on his feet. "I haven't touched it much. I usually let Armando tend to them since I was afraid I'd accidentally kill them."
Once he was up he swayed a bit, the sudden rush making his head spin. Astra was quick to dart upwards, her hands grabbing at his arms to stabilize him before he could fall. All he could offer was a flustered, apologetic smile when she sent him a warning stare.
Simon stood up behind her with some difficulty, the blonde directing his gaze back to him with a grin. "Here, I can show you! It's apart of the lab, just in its own little section." Without waiting he began to stumble in that direction, a mildly distressed Astra trailing at his side as she held onto his arm to keep him stable.
Grace opened the door to the room, Astra following him inside while Simon stepped in last. Thankfully there was a chair in the corner, to which she fussed to get him to sit down, not willing to take any risks. The scientist obliged, a pink hue on his pale complexion from her worry.
Meanwhile Simon took in the scenery around them, so simple yet enough to fill him with a serenity he had yet to feel in years.
One end was a window, showing the dark expanse of space outside tinged with hues of blue and purple, while millions of stars sparkled throughout it. There were rows of shelves and trays, all filled with various sized potted plants, vibrant green stems and leaves sprouting from each one into different lengths. Overhead were rows of light, emitting a heat and brightness he could only assume was meant to simulate the sun.
Some supplies were scattered around—a watering can, a miniature metal shovel, gloves, pruners, a gardening fork, bags of seeds and fertilizer, and more. There was a blue water drum in the corner, connected to a pipe towards the ceiling, while a small hose lead out of it.
Not a word left him, his feet moving on their own as he went to inspect the little plants individually, with the awe of a child discovering something new for the first time. Unknowingly a smile twitched on his lips, subtle yet filled with warmth.
Astra and Grace watched as he examined the room, each with their own little smile. Hers shifted to a smirk, bumping her hip against his bicep from where he sat and quietly laughing at the way his body jolted from the contact.
"You should've lead with this if you wanted him to warm up to you."
"That would've been nice to know before I ended up with another concussion."
Side note! I've read up on it to see, cause I remember seeing plants shown in the movie but a lot of people seem to think it's decorative for morale, or that Armando tended to the plants while Grace was in a coma. But then it was also mentioned that the conditions in the ship wouldn't allow for them to grow, sooooo I'm going to change things a bit
On the Hail Mary they have their own little room instead of just being in the lab, where they can get oxygen, CO2, synthetic sunlight, proper space to grow, all that fun jazz. It's going to be a growable food source cause now that there's three of them on board, it'll be a necessity
Also because Simon deserves his little plants to take care of huehehe
Sooo finally got to watch PHM, and now I have to write cause I love that fucking awkward nerd already
Purely self-indulgent with my OC Astra and Simon from Iron Lung, cause I can. For her lore she goes down in the SM-1, but for the sake of plot, she went down with Simon >:)
"Eye movement detected."
A robotic voice chimed from above, the once sleeping figure of a woman stirring from the disturbance. At first she didn't move, eyes squeezed shut and eyebrows pinched inwards, her brain slowly but surely rousing from its drowsy state.
The first sensation that came flooding back was pain, sharp and aching along every part of her body, paired with a headache that was the equivalent of a hammer bashing through her skull. With a groan Astra began to roll to the left, a futile attempt to shield herself away, only for her stomach to drop when the soft padding was no longer beneath her.
"Patient has fallen."
At the sound of that voice again – one she finally realized was automated – she could only groan, disoriented and wounded. Something ripped off her face and arm when she had fallen, and she briefly felt a trickle of blood traveling down the length of her arm.
Actually, there was a warm, sticky substance all over her. It felt damp against any exposed parts of her pale, freckled skin, tears through her clothes that she couldn't fathom how they got there. Whatever was coating her from head to toe, it was light and drying, as if someone had tried to haphazardly clean off what they could.
Her brain felt sluggish, unable to process what was happening fast enough—side effects from a type of opioid, she assumed. Instead she attempted to focus on one thing at a time until it jogged her memory.
"Patient is in stable condition. What is your name?"
She sure as hell didn't feel stable, but she did know her name. That was a good sign, she supposed.
What was that robotic voice, anyway? Since when did the C.O.I. have a machine meant to help treat and observe patients? She'd be pissed if they had this the whole time while making her their primary medical provider. Would've made her life a lot easier, and given her more time to seclude herself inside the lab.
But that didn't make sense. Now that she thought harder on it – god her head was killing her – she hadn't been at the station at all. Glimpses of the submarine flashed through her mind, along with a familiar blonde woman that had the left side of her face deformed, eye a ghostly blank tint compared to the striking blue of the right.
Ava, that was her name. The captain leading the next mission to send down the SM-13 submarine—aka the Iron Lung. Astra remembered now, being sealed inside that hunk of metal, left to face the horrors lying in wait in the dark depths of the blood ocean on the AT-5 moon.
The memories were flooding back now, her chest rising and falling quicker than usual as a hurricane of conflicting emotions raged inside of her. So vividly she recalled the hull being torn apart, the metal creaking, bending and snapping from rows of teeth, all while her screams were drowned out by the rush of thick, hot blood consuming her body whole.
Astra knew that's what happened, had come to the horrifying reality that was her inevitable death. It was real, it happened, she knew it did. That's what her body was still coated in, drying blood.
If that's the case, then how was she still alive? How was she here? Wherever here even was...
Where was she?
For the first time Astra pried her eyes open, wide, mismatched irises darting around the unfamiliar space. Immediately her brows furrowed together, confusion deeply etched into her features.
It was a ship, that much she could tell, but it was unlike any of the ones she had been on. There were multiple cloths piled in the corner, stained with a crimson hue—likely used by someone to wipe the blood off her. Then she spotted a glass-like structure propped against the wall, which she had no clue what that was for. A dome of sorts?
Eventually her eyes shifted up, landing on the robotic arm that hovered above her. The arm's hand shifted around her space, as if it were looking at her through the camera in the center, observing every miniscule detail of her stress that was rising by the second.
On instinct she tried to scramble away from the foreign technology, only to let out a loud hiss between her teeth when her side flared up at the movement. Her elbow braced against the ground to keep her head from smacking into it, eyes squeezed shut as short, shallow breaths slipped out of her lungs in painful wheezes.
None of this was making sense, yet a part of her wanted to ignore the millions of questions, to let her pounding head rest and ease away the pain coursing through her nervous system. Unfortunately, the anxiety pumping through her veins right now wouldn't allow her a single second of peace.
Nor would this damn robotic arm that kept getting even closer to her business.
"Heart rate is elevated. Would you like me to administer a dose of—"
Before the automated voice could finish, the sound of bounding footsteps nearby halted its inquiry. Not long after a voice rang out from above, deep and riddled with exhaustion, as if he had just woken up from the noise. A man began to descend the ladder from her peripheral, vibrant orange fabric entering her view.
He was speaking, not sparing a glance in their direction to avoid tumbling down the ladder in his sleep-deprived state. "Armando, what is all the commotion? I'm trying to get some sle—" Once he neared the bottom of the ladder he shifted his gaze over, only to freeze up when his eyes connected with wild, mismatched ones. "Oh."
For a minute it was an awkward stare off between the two. Light-green and hazel-brown clashed with striking blue, the prior dazed and fear stricken while she held her breath, and the latter purely stunned, unable to believe what he was seeing. He stared at her like she was otherworldly, something he couldn't fathom was currently awake and looking right back at him.
That expression melted away into relief, finally processing the situation after the initial shock wore off. A hint of urgency seeped into his movements while he struggled to get down the last section of the ladder.
"Oh my god, you're awake! You're actually– Uh, hold on, let me just get down this—" The man rushed down the last few rungs rather ungracefully, nearly tripping and falling to the floor in the process.
He stumbled his way over to her eventually, with Astra watching the entire scene in perplexed silence. At least she didn't have to fret over the possibility of enduring more bodily harm from a captor. The blonde in front of her looked anything but hostile or intimidating, instead appearing to be a little out of breath after getting his shoe stuck between the ladder rungs.
The man, now a few feet away from her, was tall with a well-defined build. He was clothed in a tight, navy-blue science pun t-shirt – I wear this shirt periodically, with a periodic table – the bottom half of an orange suit with the sleeves tied around his waist, and white, scuffed shoes that were partially unlaced. His dirty blonde hair was short and messy, sticking out in every direction – bed head – while the sides connected to the short beard along his face. Along with that he wore a pair of gold, thin-rimmed glasses, hanging loosely from one ear and ready to fall off his face at any moment.
He shifted on his feet, bursting with a nervous yet warm energy that reflected in the hint of a smile he wore. His demeanor made him appear giddy, like he was eager to finally talk to her, yet apprehensive all the same. He stood a reasonable distance, to the point she realized he was taking precautions from her, like she might potentially attack him rather than vice versa.
So yeah, definitely not a threat.
"You're awake– I mean, this is great! I'm glad you're finally awake." He was caught up on that fact, unable or unwilling to believe it. Then he paused, eyebrows furrowed in worry as he eyed her hunched over posture. "Are you in a lot of pain still? Armando can give you another small dose of morphine now, I think."
"Affirmative, Dr. Grace." The robot responded in time, already preparing said dosage to administer to her.
Astra watched the machine warily, before glancing back towards him when the needle breached her skin. "Armando? That's its name or..?" She trailed off, more than lost on everything happening at this very moment—one small thing at a time, lest her head would explode.
He shrugged a shoulder, looking slightly embarrassed as he glanced away. "Yeah, I decided to give it one. It was just me on the ship and the robot, so I figured—" He abruptly cleared his throat, cutting himself off in an attempt to redirect the conversation. "But not anymore, evidently. What's your name? Do you remember your name?"
The second question puzzled her, especially the genuine concern he expressed with it, as if it were an experience he'd lived through and now awaited her to admit the same.
"It's Astra." She mumbled, leaning her head back for some semblance of relief. God, this headache was going to turn her brain into mush.
He blinked at her. "Astra..?" He waited, only to be met with a strange, hesitant stare in return, to which he nodded despite the confusion etched into his face. "Oh, that's it. No last name. Okay, cool. A little weird that you don't have one, but no judgment here."
From what she could tell so far, this guy rambled a lot. Usually she would've found said trait endearing, along with all his other socially awkward yet charming mannerisms, but right now she was struggling to wrap her head around this situation. Her entire body still hurt like hell, too—hopefully the morphine would kick in fast.
Astra couldn't bother to keep her head up, letting it rest fully against the wall. "You're, uhm... Dr. Grace?" She assumed, recalling what the robot referred to him as.
"Ryland Grace. You can just call me Ryland, or Grace. Either one is fine." He offered instead, a warm smile lighting up his face. Cautiously he took a step forward, like approaching a wild deer ready to sprint off. "Is it okay if I help you up? The floor doesn't look too comfortable."
"Please." She agreed without hesitation, her current position not helping her injuries in the slightest.
With quick yet careful movements he lifted her up like she weighed nothing, setting her on top of the soft padding she fell off of earlier. Once he ensured she was steady he stepped away, leaving a respectable distance between them—not too close to make her uncomfortable, yet enough to be of help were she to sway.
It was silent for a minute, with Grace internally struggling on how to start his next sentence without stressing her further. "I'm sure you have a lot of questions. I can try to answer them, if you answer one of mine first. Cause, well— Uh, I'm not exactly sure how either of you ended up here."
Her eyebrows scrunched up, regarding him with a puzzled stare for the umpteenth time. "'Either of you'?" She repeated that part slowly, having no clue who else he could be referring to. "What are you talking about?"
The worry from earlier returned, his lips pursing into a small, hesitant frown. "Uhm, your friend over there? I'm assuming you were together, since you were in the same heap of, uh, blood on the floor when I found you both. Am I wrong or do you– do you not remember?" He grew fidgety, blue eyes flickering between herself and something behind her.
Astra squinted, reluctantly turning her head in the direction he was glancing at. In the bed behind her laid the body of a man coated in blood – she imagined she looked the same – while attached to a oxygen mask and IV similar to when she had woken up. Although, he looked much worse for wear compared to herself—the crimson bandages around the remaining stump of his left arm said that much.
For a minute her brain ran a blank, mismatched eyes roving over his features in hopes to jog something, anything. Medium length, dark, wavy locks sprawled around his head, dark stubble around his jaw, and glimpses of tan skin beneath smeared blood, likely paler than usual due to his current state. Then her eyes trailed down along his ripped clothes, landing on a bracelet clutched between his fingers—a leaf pendent, one he cherished deeply.
The wave of memories that slammed into her made her feel physically nauseous.
Simon.
How could she have forgotten about him being with her? How did her brain skip such a crucial detail? And god, he looked awful. His arm, his entire fucking arm was gone.
Without thinking she scrambled across the bedding towards him, ignoring the sharp aches and pains that followed. All that mattered was getting to him, that she confirmed he was alive despite seeing his chest rise and fall unsteadily. She needed to feel his pulse beneath her fingers, feel the thrum of his heart in his chest.
Unfortunately, a pair of arms was quick to reel her back before she could go crashing to the ground. "Whoa! Hey, what're you doing? Don't do that–!" Grace's panic fell on deaf ears, the woman continuing to thrash in his hold to get free. "You're going to hurt yourself!"
"I need to see him! I need to make sure he's okay! Let go—!" She tried to pry herself out of his grip, but her weakened state did little against his strong hold. It was irritational, she knew that deep down, but in her frenzy she couldn't find it in herself to care about anything else but him. "Simon! Simon, get up!"
With some difficulty he managed to pull her back enough to where he wasn't actively preventing her from falling off the bed. "Astra! Just listen to me, please!" He pleaded with her, her struggle dying down the longer she drained her energy.
Eventually she stopped fighting entirely, to which a relieved breath escaped him. It was quiet, nothing but their panted breaths filling the room while both recovered from the scuffle. He didn't release her out of fear of her making another attempt, the trembling underneath his fingers a telltale sign.
Then a quiet noise met his ears, a stuttered breath that devolved into a pitiful whimper, each barely restrained. The shaking of her body worsened, her shoulders tensed up in a poor attempt to stop them from moving.
Oh. She was crying.
Oh no.
Grace's gaze softened, a mixture of sympathy and remorse swirling in them. He hadn't meant to cause her further distress, and he knew the sinking feeling a little too well—that heavy rock of dread that settled into one's gut upon realizing the other person wasn't going to wake up.
He knew that, except that wasn't the case in this scenario, and now he felt personally responsible for making her spiral. Truthfully he wasn't the greatest at comforting people, let alone a stranger, but the guilt was eating him alive and it hadn't even been a minute.
He sighed, his grip loosening to hover at her sides. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—" What? Manhandle her? He winced, realizing an apology was only going to make it more awkward. Nope, not good. He needed a new approach. "Can you look at me? Please."
It took a moment for Astra to tear her gaze away from Simon's sleeping form, fearful the second she did so, that would change. She couldn't bear the thought of losing him, yet as her watery gaze connected with Grace's, filled to the brim with compassion despite the uncertainty there, that tight knot in her chest loosened enough to let her breathe.
"He's resting right now. Armando took care of his injuries, now his body has to work on the rest." He reassured her, his deep voice impossibly gentle, as if she would break from anything louder. The touch on her sides raised up, resting lightly on her shoulders. "He'll be okay, I promise. If you want to check for yourself, I can walk you over to him."
New tears gathered at the corners of her eyes, for an entirely different reason this time. "Y–yes, please..."
Grace helped her down from the bed, letting her wrap an arm around his waist to keep herself stable. He carefully walked them over to where Simon laid, far slower than was truly necessary, but she didn't comment on it.
Once close enough she reached out with her free hand, watching as her own quivering fingers brushed away some dark hair from his face. Up close she could see the puffs of air through the clear mask, along with the peaceful expression resting underneath it—no terror, no panic, no anger, no worry. Absolutely nothing, completely detached from the horrific events that somehow lead them here.
Her palm drifted downwards, until her fingertips brush along the torn fabric covering his chest. It rested there, feeling for the heartbeat that lay beneath. It was faint, but still pumping in time with her own.
Grace held onto her the entire time, his thumb rubbing gentle circles against her side. "See? He'll be fine. He just needs a long nap, and then he'll be back in business." He sounded reminiscent, like the words falling from his mouth were from his own experience.
Astra let her hand slip away, yet her mismatched irises didn't leave Simon's face for a second. "He'll be fine." She mumbled, trying to reassure herself. Then she sighed, rubbing under her eyes to rid of the wet streaks there. "I'm sorry about all that. I don't know what came over me."
"You were worried for your friend. There's nothing wrong with that." Grace shrugged it off, merely relieved he was able to calm her down from her frenzy. "Except now Armando will have to check you over to make sure you didn't open any stitches. So, you did that to yourself."
There was a teasing lift to his tone, one she released a breath of a laugh at—the action hurt her chest a bit. "Yeah, yeah. Can I wash all this blood off before that? I'd rather not get an infection."
"Right, that's a good idea. Should probably do that first." Grace agreed with a nervous chuckle, accidentally overlooking her blood-soaked state admist the chaos. "You wait here for a second, and I'll get everything ready for you. Armando can keep you company."
As he set her back on the empty bed, she spared a glance towards said robot. It waved a bit then moved its fingers, confirming what he said.
A smile cracked on her lips, shaking her head as she turned back around to see the blonde shuffling towards the ladder. She watched from where she sat, nothing but gratitude in her expression. "Thank you, Grace."
He halted, near the top of the ladder when he went to peer down at her from above. "Oh, it's, uh– it's no problem, really." He mumbled, a noticeable redness rising to his cheeks as he went to rush up the last few rungs, only to hit his head against the ceiling. "Ow, that's my head. Need to look where I'm going."
A laugh escaped once he was out of sight, simultaneously amused and endeared. Grace seemed like a good person so far, sweet and charming, albeit in a clumsy way. Nonetheless, she was appreciative it had been someone like him to save and care for herself and Simon.
Now she had to figure out how the hell they even ended up here when she was one-hundred percent positive they should've been dead.
*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚
A warm shower was a much needed refresher. Blood and grime tainted the water at her feet, swirling down the drain over and over again until the water trickling down her body turned clear. While it felt heavenly, she remained mindful of the fact she shouldn't use up too much water, and stepped out once she deemed herself properly cleaned.
Grace had provided some clothes for her, clearly doing a once over of her current outfit and deciding, "Yeah, there's no salvaging that. There's some extra clothes I have that you can wear, or some left behind from the– the, uh, other crew." She decided not to question the noticeable waver in his voice from that last part.
Looking in a mirror now, she hadn't realized how awful she looked. Crimson wounds littered random parts of her body – Grace was right about the stitches coming undone – along with dark, purple bruises blooming along her pale, freckled skin. Her face sustained a few cuts and scratches, paired with the usual one across her nose.
Astra fished around in the medical kit she took after some convincing. She insisted it would be easier if she stitched up the wounds on her own, that she had experience doing so many times before, both on herself and other patients.
Truthfully, she wasn't too enthusiastic about the idea of letting a robotic arm do it for her, regardless of her fascination. That, and she needed a second alone, to breathe and process everything that's happened—she kept that part to herself.
Grace didn't question her reasoning, caving into her request rather easily. Though he was staring at her differently, something indecipherable in his tone when he blurted out, "You're a doctor, then?"
No, she wasn't. At least she didn't feel like she was a proper one, given the circumstances of her role, which was why she shut that down with a flush rising to her cheeks. He didn't push the topic further, nor did he look convinced by her modesty.
She had to take the supplies and clothes then rush away when he kept staring at her strangely—she didn't know how to describe it, like he was analyzing her in a way he hadn't before. Whatever it was, it was had her face burning up and she decided to flee.
It was an unpleasant process, a needle poking through her skin over and over again never a sensation she could get used to. Regardless her fingers moved with familiar precision, until the pressure of the needle turned dull and the skin around her open gashes were sealed shut.
After that she worked on shuffling into the clothes that were provided for her. There was a pair of loose fitted cargo pants – she had to tighten the belt straps quite a bit – along with another science pun t-shirt that said Ah! The Element of Surprise. Her boots were returned, now clear of all blood, and on top of it all she was given a cardigan that had animals woven along the front and back.
Squinting at the patterns, she tried to recall what kind of animal it was. It was difficult to remember with the limited data she had at the C.O.I., especially when her studies revolved around the ocean. After some thought, a specific depiction came to mind she'd seen before with similar colors—a fox, she finally concluded.
It was cute, and thoughtful since it was a little too cold for her in the ship, at least while her body was recovering.
Before she left the bathroom, she dried her auburn locks as best as she could, the messy curls dripping with water. Upon stepping out she glanced around, trying to remember which direction to head in. Grace mentioned he'd be in the lab, if only she could recall where he said that would be at.
It didn't take her too long to find it, seeing as she could hear him rustling around and mumbling to himself over the consistent hum of the ship. She hovered in the entryway for a second, eyes landing on Grace where he was fiddling with the knobs of a microscope. From the blank stare he was directing down the lens, to his foot rhythmically tapping against the floor, it was evident he was trying to pass the time while she finished up.
Astra shifted where she stood, deciding to gain his attention by clearing her throat. The small sound made him jolt away from the microscope, sending some nearby equipment off the table in the process. Before they could fall, he hastily swept them back up with his arm, the items clattering noisly against the surface.
The glasses dangling off his face were pushed up to rest on the bridge of his nose before he turned to face her. A sheepish smile twitched at his lips. "Hey! Sorry, didn't notice you were—"
The words died in his throat, nearly choking on them once his gaze landed on Astra. During that split second his brain stopped functioning, wide eyes taking in the sight before him—his cardigan engulfing her smaller figure with the sleeves reaching past her fingers, his shirt hugging her frame underneath, and wet, curly locks of auburn hair cascading around her head.
In that moment, he realized how terrible of an idea it was to lend his clothes to the only woman he'd seen in god knows how long. Not his greatest decision, but in his defense, it didn't feel right giving away his deceased crew mates clothes. He knew he was overthinking it, however it was too late to second guess himself now.
His face felt like it was blazing, no doubt turning the the shade of a tomato, cause damnit he was still staring and hadn't said anything. His brain was failing him yet again.
Her fingers fiddled with the edges of the sleeves, finding interest in staring at the patterns there. "Thank you for the clothes again." She broke the silence, now tracing along the animals on the front. "I like the foxes on this. They are foxes, right?"
Her voice knocked him out of his stupor, quickly averting his gaze like he'd been caught doing something he's not supposed to. "Y–yeah, they're foxes. I used to have a keychain with one on it, and I have a fox mask one of my students made for me, and some other shirts—" When he met her curious gaze, his throat closed up and his face grew hotter, if possible. "Anyway! You can keep it, if you want. Since you like it. It looks better on you than me."
A light red hue painted her cheeks, one that paled in comparison to the scientist in front of her, who looked ready to melt into a puddle on the floor. "Oh, thank you... I assume the shirt I'm wearing is also yours? Do all your shirts have bad science puns on them?"
Her tone was teasing, fingers pulling as the fabric of the shirt for emphasis as she walked further into the room. It was a little messy, with equipment and supplies strewn about, and a random pillow and blanket thrown in the corner.
There were more of those glass-like structures winding throughout the ship, which she still had no clue what those were for. She'd have to ask him about that.
A light-hearted scoff left him, any tension from before now fading away from his body. "I'll have you know they are amazing science puns, and so is my fashion sense." He remarked with feigned offense, a playful glare in his eyes from behind the rim of his glasses.
"With this adorable cardigan? Can't argue there." She replied with a soft grin, laughing under her breath when his head ducked down, the tips of his ears visibly red. "What were you looking at in the microscope?"
He spared a glance between her approaching figure and his scattered station, rubbing a hand along the back of his neck. "It's a long story... But I can fill you in while you eat!" He perked up, a hand carefully grazing her waist to keep her balanced while he slipped past her. "Figured you'd be hungry after, uh— Well, whatever it is you went through to cover you in that amount of blood..."
Grace trailed off while grabbing a ceramic cup filled with noodles, still warm underneath his touch. Both of them needed to clear up some things between them, seeing as neither had any idea how the other ended up on the Hail Mary in the first place. Let alone in the bloodied state they were in, which nearly gave him a heart attack at first. He'd never admit to the shriek that escaped when he first discovered them.
Could anyone blame him, though? Two bodies covered in blood from head-to-toe wasn't exactly a normal sight to stumble upon, even more so in the empty void of space. It was ten times more horrifying than the first time he encountered Rocky.
"Guess we both have some explaining to do." Astra mumbled, holding out her hands as he gently handed her the cup. The smell immediately wafted into her nose, triggering the rumble of her empty stomach. "You start first. I'm starving."
He held no objections, an eager smile on his face as he sat down on the floor with her. She started digging into her meal, which was surprisingly more flavorful than she anticipated, and she couldn't recall the last time she had any sort of noodles.
The man in front of her rambled on while she ate, explaining in vivid detail everything that happened so far. She listened with rapt attention, as much intrigued as she was puzzled the longer the story went on.
What she gathered by the time she ate her entire cup of noodles—the stars were dimming due to a microbe called astrophage, except for one star called Tau Ceti that was immune to this phenomenon, and approximately 11.9 light-years from Earth. He found the cause, these predatory-like organisms called Taumoeba on the planet Adrian – named after Rocky's mate, how sweet – and after successfully breeding a separate strain resistant to nitrogen, he was now routing back to Earth to bring this discovery with him, courtesy of an alien space rock providing him the fuel.
She wished she could've met Rocky, it would've been extraordinary to see intelligent extraterrestrial life with her own eyes. A bit of a bummer to hear she missed that opportunity, but he offered to show her the recordings they made together at some point. He also explained that's what the glass-like tunnels she saw were from, created from xenonite to keep Rocky in his own atmosphere composed mainly of ammonia.
There were some terrifying bumps along the mission, shown by the couple of scars on his face and the burn mark around his arm. She could feel her expression drop from its initial fascination once he – rather hesitantly – mentioned the fact he was forced into going on this one-way trip, rather than volunteering.
He wanted Earth to be saved, he just didn't want to be the one to do it. In the beginning he wanted to help, to provide as much research as they needed to send those four astronauts on their mission, who had long accepted their awaited deaths. Never did he anticipate how an explosion would lead to being sent to his inevitable demise, his life stolen from him for the sake of humanity's survival.
It was simultaneously heartbreaking and frustrating to hear, knowing the man in front of her was unwillingly sent on a suicide mission when all he wanted was to live—the sentiment was familiar in a way that made her chest feel hollow. Spurred on by her emotions, she began to delve into her own explanation while her now empty cup sat beside her.
How it all began with the Quiet Rapture, leading to two distinct governing forces and their goals—the Consolidation of Iron, who wanted to create a new, sustainable future for humanity, and Eden, whose only purpose was to protect and nourish the Last Tree, a symbol of hope for their remaining lives. Their differing viewpoints regarding the future lead to tension between the two, inevitably resulting in a war breaking out that left Filament Station blown to pieces and heavily irradiated.
During the conflict, there was a discovery of two moons—the Z-8 and AT-5, the only planetary bodies left in the universe. Astra and other researchers were trying to study these abnormal moons with oceans of blood on them, however due to their dangerous and unknown qualities, their observations remained at a surface level. That was, until the C.O.I. proposed sending down submarines to collect data that'd be more substantial.
Unfortunately, there wasn't any success. A threat lingered beneath the crimson surface, destroying anything man-made sent to its depths. No one knew what was down there, yet the C.O.I. kept sending one after another despite the consistent lack of progress, leaving endless amounts of valuable information at the bottom of the ocean.
Eventually Simon and herself were chosen to be sealed into a submarine, the SM-13, also known as the Iron Lung. Like all the others, she knew it was a death sentence, that neither of them were making it out of that metal hull.
Astra was sent down after the C.O.I. accused her of an alliance towards an Eden prisoner, for betraying their trust and reporting false information on her psychological assessments of the prisoners. They also suspected her of hindering their research, which was far from true since she'd never sabotage her own studies, but she knew at that point they were piling on her crimes to justify the punishment.
After a brief pause, she decided it was best to leave out what Simon was down there for, almost one-hundred percent certain the man in front of her would freak out. Desperate times called for desperate measures, and while she assumed Grace could acknowledge that factor, telling him Simon was a convicted murderer wouldn't land well either way.
That information could be disclosed later, or preferably never.
Grace had the enthusiasm and curiosity of a little kid the entire time she spoke, constantly asking questions to make more sense of the story. He was attentive to every detail, listening with utmost fascination, his expressions twisting in response to what she said. Definitely more of an engaged listener, rather than herself who preferred to simply nod and hum along, save for the occasional question.
He was beyond intrigued when she mentioned they had established a colony on Mars before the Quiet Rapture—the place where Simon was born before moving to Eden Station. There was a bombardment of inquiries from him, ones she had absolutely no answer for since she never got to experience it for herself. She only ever heard about it, never got to see it in person before it disappeared with the rest of the planets.
If he wanted, it was possible Simon could tell him more about it when he wakes up. She found it adorable how eager Grace looked at that suggestion, like a puppy with an imaginary tail wagging behind him.
At one point he brought her two new cups, one filled to the brim with more noodles and the other some water. Along with it there was a green bag labeled Skittles, which she found out were mini sour candies. The tart coating over the fruity sweetness was unexpected at first, but she quickly began to like it.
By the time she was done talking, she had polished off the second cup of noodles, half the bag of candy, and now sipped on her water. Neither of them were left with a reasonable conclusion as to how Simon and herself ended up on the Hail Mary—let alone in an entirely different universe, but quantum physics wasn't either of their expertise.
"Guess we were both unwilling sacrifices for the sake of saving humanity. That must be some kind of achievement." His deep voice grumbled, half-serious and half-joking.
Astra rolled her eyes, contradicting the smile that was curling on her lips. The rest of the water slid down her throat, and by the time she set the cup down, she took notice of him staring again. Lots of rambling and staring seemed to be his thing.
His elbow was propped against his leg, letting his head rest in the palm of his hand while his eyes flickered across her facial features from behind his lopsided glasses. There was a smile slowly spreading across his face, one she couldn't identify as she rose an eyebrow at him.
"What?" She asked skeptically, trying to ignore the heat rushing to her cheeks at the attention.
That smile shifted into a grin, his gaze locking onto her own with a fond gleam. "Not only are you a doctor, but you're a scientist, too. That's impressive."
It was a statement, not allowing her to confirm nor deny unlike his earlier question. He sounded sure of himself, that it was a fact regardless of what she said next—which he easily predicted what that'd be based on her reaction from the last one.
"I wouldn't say that." As expected she tried to wave it off, unable to look at him as she fiddled with her empty cup. "I was merely one of the best options they had after everything vanished from existence, and the medical position was kind of thrown at me because of my mother."
His stare remained unwavering, yet softened at the doubt in her tone. "I don't think you're giving yourself enough credit." He murmured, wholly genuine and warm, gently nudging his foot against hers as a gesture of reassurance. "You said you were young when this, uhm, Silent— No, Quiet Rapture happened? And all that was left were these moons with oceans of blood..?"
A quiet laugh escaped her at the unease etched into his expression whenever he mentioned blood. Clearly finding them coated in the crimson substance and imagining an ocean full of it had him disturbed. Not that she could blame him, any sane person would be thoroughly freaked out from it.
"Yes, I grew up on Earth for some time, then ended up moving to a station with my family. I was little, so I don't remember much of it." As she spoke her voice dipped down, a deep melancholy painting every word. "It's difficult to use the Earth's ocean as a reference for my studies when I've never actually seen it before. I had to go off of what we had stored in the database."
The smile he wore faltered at her tone, a devastating mixture of disappointment and mourning over the life she could've experienced. It felt like a hole carved itself into his chest, seeing her previously content demeanor deflate before his very eyes, with no way to fix it.
If he could, he would've shown her the ocean and everything else she missed out on. They were heading back to Earth, so he could promise to, but there was this heavy, sinking feeling in his stomach. A pit of dread that he couldn't identify, preventing him from saying such.
Fortunately, his brain decided to cooperate with him this one time, providing him an easy solution.
Grace lit up, already scrambling to his feet by the time she sent him a puzzled glance. "We have to change that. Come with me." He didn't provide any details, merely reaching down to help her up.
She complied easily, though her confusion increased tenfold when one of his hands went to cover her eyes. "What is happening right now?"
"It's a surprise. Just trust me, you'll love it." He paused, a hum in the back of his throat that became uncertain. "Or I hope you will. It's the only option I could think of, seeing as we're in the middle of space and it'll be some time before we—"
She sighed in faux annoyance. "Grace."
He winced, a nervous chuckle slipping out. "Right, sorry. Leading the way."
The trip was a slow one, seeing as the ship was practically a minefield with objects and xenonite scattered all over the place. Grace was careful with guiding her, one hand over her eyes and the other resting against her waist, verbal directions murmured to her as an extra precaution.
By the time they got there, he had her sit on a platform. Astra kept her eyes closed, listening to the sound of his fingers typing and tapping away. A few seconds later a bright light surrounded her, causing her closed eyelids to squeeze further together, struggling to keep them shut like he requested.
To the right of her she heard Grace climb up onto the platform, until his knee bumped against her own. "Okay, you can open them now." He gave the green light, his words layered with a giddy anticipation.
First she peeked one eye open, then the other as they landed on the scene before her. The room they were in was made entirely out of screens, showcasing a sandy shoreline where waves of blue-green water crashed along it, white foam disappearing beneath their feet. Above the ocean's horizon sat the sun, reflecting warm, yellow rays along the waters rippling surface, while hues of orange, red and pink bled throughout the sky like a watercolor painting, broken apart by white, fluffy clouds.
Even with it being a digital view, it was the most beautiful scenery she had ever seen in her life. Slowly she scanned over the entirety of the room, taking in as much as she could from left to right, until eventually she landed on the man sitting next to her. While all her attention was on the display around them, his remained glued to her, as if the scenery paled in comparison to her reaction.
His fingers dragged through his mess of dirty blonde hair, unable to sit still as his shoe began to tap against the platform. "Sooo, do you like it? I know it's not the real thing, but I figured it'd help you picture it."
It felt like only a split second as he glanced away, yet when he looked back, he immediately noticed the glistening light along the edges of her mismatched eyes. A tear slipped down her cheek and he felt his chest tighten in alarm.
"You're crying. Shoot, I didn't mean to make you cry!" He blurted out in panic, quickly shuffling onto his knees so he could get off the platform. "I'm sorry, I didn't think that— Here, I can turn it off—"
Before he could, her hand darted out to latch onto his arm, halting his actions. "No! No, no, no. It's okay, more than okay." She rushed out, offering him a wobbly yet reassuring smile. "God, I love it. It's so beautiful. I could've never imagined it like this."
Right, happy tears. He forgot it could be those.
With a sigh of relief, he let himself sink back down beside her. The hand on his arm returned to her lap, and he found himself silently missing the contact. He shoved that thought down as quickly as it came.
Astra played with the ends of her sleeves, watery eyes wandering along the screens with nothing but awe. "Y'know, this is much prettier than an ocean of blood filled with flesh and bones" She joked, turning to him with a tiny grin.
Grace shuddered, pulling a face that coaxed a laugh from her throat. "I don't want to imagine what that looks like. I've been scared enough on this mission." He huffed playfully, before twisting his body around to slide off the platform. "Hold on a sec, let me change it. I think you'll like the Great Barrier Reef."
The screens around them shifted, showcasing a thriving ecosystem along the ocean floor. Coral of all shapes, sizes and hues, intertwining with bight green seagrass and algae, while various types of fish swam in and out of the large reef. The beach was pretty, but getting to see the life waiting beneath the surface of the ocean was breathtaking.
"It's so vibrant. There's so many different colors and fish." Astra whispered, more so to herself than the man sitting next to her. Then her eyes squinted, zeroing in on a creature sliding along the screen that she couldn't recognize. "What is that one?"
Grace followed her gaze, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "It's a sea turtle. They like to eat jellyfish." He quietly answered, unable to help himself as he added on a small factoid.
She didn't know what a jellyfish was either, only humming in acknowledgment as she watched the turtle float by. "I like them. They're cute."
She wasn't sure how long they'd been in there for. Apparently this was the Mental Health room – or as he liked to call it the Don't Go Crazy Room – a way to help ward off cabin fever in the endless void of space.
They went back and forth like that for a while, with Grace changing the scenery and her trying to point out places and animals that she learned about. When she couldn't identify something he'd do it for her, each one paired with a random fact he knew off the top of his head.
It was the most relaxed Astra had felt since she got here. Maybe it was the slow realization that everything was fine here, that she'd be able to return to Earth like nothing ever happened.
Or maybe it was the company of the man beside her, chatting away about anything and everything while she listened, his low, slightly raspy voice soothing to her ears. Whichever it was, it felt like a weight had lifted off her shoulders.
At some point she let her head fall against his shoulder, the peaceful scenery – it was now a forest with a family of red foxes skittering around – and the comforting hush of his words only enhancing the drowsiness washing over her body.
She felt his shoulder tense for a second, his sentence coming to a shuddering halt as his breath hitched above her. A beat of silence, then a light pressure on top of her head, his voice resuming as a gentle murmur that brushed along the curled strands of her auburn hair.
Astra was trying to listen, she really was. But he was warm beside her, the arm that steadied itself around her waist merely inviting her to cozy up to him further. She was dozing off, his words gradually fading into silence, the last thing she registered being the gentle motion of his thumb rubbing along her waist underneath the cardigan.
At least that would've been it, had a startlingly loud bang from above not ripped her out of said blissful state. Along with it there were heavy, panted breaths, causing her head to snap up in that direction.
When they landed on a blood-coated Simon, she wasn't sure whether to be relieved at his recovery, or alarmed for the scientist beside her, who he was currently staring daggers into. If looks could kill, Grace would've slumped over then and there.
And he definitely wanted to, because he felt like prey being stalked by its predator—a hound ready to lunge for the fox's throat.
"Who the fuck are you?"
He almost let out the same scream from when he first found them. Almost.
No, instead he let out a mix between a whimper and yelp, his body flailing away from Astra as he went tumbling off the platform.
Ouch.
*Shoves all three of them in a box and shakes them around violently*
Mermay is such a fun name for your event, it has a really nice ring to it!
I'd like to ask for some Mereman!Simon x (gn)Mermaid reader for it! The idea of reader having been a sea creature for a long time while Simon has only recently fallen into the effects of the blood ocean so reader is helping him learn to navigate the moving terrain, how to defend himself against other creatures etc is so fun to me. Just two silly fishes swimming around.
All the angst fics of this man are beautiful but I need some tooth rotting fluff for a change, I can't handle all the sadness anymore...well maybe some hurt/comfort sprinkled in can't hurt if possible!
Hope you have a lovely day!! :D
Predator
Merman!Simon (The Convict) x Mermaid/Sea Creature!Reader
Requested
Type: Hurt/comfort, fluff
Warnings: Blood and injuries, grotesque descriptions (it's the blood ocean sooo y'know)
A/N:
Hellooo!! I agree that our beloved Simon deserves a break from the angst, but I am always a sucker for some hurt/comfort, so I had to add that in like you said >:)
This can be seen as a continuation of my other fic of Mer!Simon – except GN – or read on its own. Whatever you prefer :)
Ty for your request Anon, and I hope you have a lovely day as well! <3
It took a couple of days for Simon to adapt to living in the blood ocean as... whatever he was now.
Maris had spent some time showing him the basics, helping him learn how to swim, catch and pick food, keep his hair tidy from the endless amounts of blood—the list went on, until he began to adapt to this strange and horrifying environment. Truthfully, after he got over the initial shock, terror and the agonizing amounts of pain, this new life of his wasn't all that bad.
Though, he felt that was mainly due to the fact he had Maris around him. Without them, he was one-hundred percent certain he would've went insane. Isolation wasn't anything new to him, but being stranded alone in the deep, dark depths of an ocean of blood filled with other bizarre, grisly creatures, he sure as hell wouldn't have lasted long on his own.
One thing he hadn't gotten used to – nor did he think he ever would – was the constantly moving ocean floor.
The bed of bones Maris slept on in their cave was disturbing to him at first, until he realized that's the only solid object he'd get to lay on. A floor made of congealed blood was always changing, one moment solid enough for him to rest on, the next trying to swallow him whole as it softened like jello around him. He made the mistake once of trying to lay on the ground, and he wasn't going to ever again.
They advised that it was always best to find solid objects to lay against, such at the bones sticking out from the ground or the fleshy reefs that spread across the floor. All of them were terrible options in his eyes, merely because he wasn't accommodated to the fact everything here was like an organ system, as if it were one giant entity that created its own version of life.
Knowing he had to live the rest of his life inside that type of ecosystem didn't bring him much comfort. It still grossed him out, and it would for a while.
Nonetheless, having Maris around made it bearable. Especially since he didn't know what else lingered out there beyond the darkness, namely the thing that got him stuck down here in the first place. He'd prefer not to encounter any other creatures that were larger than Maris, who already towered over him even in this new form.
They figured it was better for him to know how to fight and defend himself in case the problem were to arise. Whatever, he didn't mind it. It should've been easy considering that's what his primary role was for... something, when he was human. Right? He couldn't recall, but it felt familiar.
Unfortunately, fighting in a blood ocean while trying to maneuver his body with webbed feet and a tail was proven more difficult than he anticipated.
"This is pointless." Simon grumbled, his form limp as he allowed himself to slowly float upside down, the momentum from his failed pounce carrying him upwards. "I'll just end up getting eaten alive 'cause this tail is too fucking slow."
Maris made a sound, a mix between a huff and a laugh. "Who's the one controlling the tail?" Their head popped up into his view, their eyes crinkled with mirth as they connected with his.
He scowled at them, his arms crossing over his chest as he remained hovering above them, their face upside down to his view. "Yeah, well, excuse me for not having full control over a new body part I grew only a few days ago. It's not my fault."
They laughed again, shaking their head as long locks of dark hair swished around with the movement. "That's why we're supposed to be practicing. If you give up, then you'll never learn. I'd also prefer you to not get eaten by another creature."
That last sentence had blood rushing to his face, their tone teasing yet with a sincere softness to it. Over these few days he'd like to think they'd gotten closer, both emotionally and physically, now that he wasn't stuck inside that metal contraption for...
Why was he sealed in there again? Probably not important, and it made his head hurt trying to remember.
Regardless, he'd admit that in that short amount of time, he'd grown a soft spot for Maris. They treated him with care, like he was a precious pearl worth protecting, always there for whatever he needed. They were also extremely touchy and affectionate, which he didn't mind in the slightest. Embarrassingly, he'd say it'd gotten to the point where he craved it, missing any form of physical contact the minute they weren't next to him.
He enjoyed being cared for, the newfound attention filling a hollow ache in his chest that he couldn't identify. Anytime he was curled up in their hold, it was like a weight lifted off his chest, ridding of the tight, suffocating sensation that seemed to linger.
Whatever happened in his past life, the mental torment that remained etched in the back of his brain, Maris became the cure for it.
An involuntary yelp left Simon as he was pulled out of his thoughts—literally. They had grabbed the fin of his tail looped over top of him, and tugged on it to flip him around. Once he was right side up his back bumped against their chest, before arms encircled his torso, successfully caging him in.
It didn't take long for him to relax against them, a noise of fake annoyance leaving his throat. "That was uncalled for." He mumbled, his words contradicting his actions as he leaned further into their hold.
Maris laughed, clearly seeing right through his act. "You were getting lost in your own head again. Had to pull you back somehow." They cooed playfully, nuzzling their cheek against the top of his head with a resounding trill. "We can be done for today if you'd like. Head out to catch some food instead, if you're hungry."
Simon hummed in agreement, lax in their arms as his exhausted body relied solely on their support. "I'm starving. Trying to learn how to fight with you is far more draining than I'd originally thought it'd be."
Their dark eyes scanned over him worriedly, slightly shifting him around in their grip to view certain places better. "I didn't accidentally hurt you anywhere, did I?" They asked gently, knowing it was rather easy with their long claws.
They'd scratched him a few times here and there from simply touching him, and they always felt awful about it, despite how quickly small wounds like that would heal. Compared to the agony Simon experienced when he mutated, a small cut was hardly anything. He didn't even notice most of the time when it would happen.
"Besides my ego? No, I'm fine." He reassured with a flat chuckle, frustration lingering even as he tried to mask it with humor. "I'd ask the same, but I'm almost certain I didn't land a single blow on you."
Their finned ears perked up, preening at the recognition rather than hearing the displeased undertone that came with it. "Nope. Not a single hit." They beamed, snuggling him closer to their chest and rubbing their cheek against his scruffy jaw.
It was like the flip of a switch, the affection flooding his face with heat and ridding of his bitter mood. "You don't have to sound so smug about it." He complained, trying and failing to look upset as a smile crept onto his lips.
They giggled, the joyful sound like a melody to his ears. "Sorry. You'll get better in time, I know it." With that encouragement they placed a kiss to the top of his head, and he was positive his face turned a deep red—at least it blended in with his scales. "You just need a break and some food before you lose your temper. So, let's go do that!"
The two swam away from their cave towards the bustling life that surrounded the reef. Or rather Maris did all the swimming, Simon remained cradled in their arms, wrapped around their body like a koala. They were faster anyway, and it gave him the excuse to stay in their arms longer.
Maris came to halt above the reef, scanning the sea critters that darted in and out of the crevices and weaved around the fleshy weeds. "Would you prefer if I caught the fish while you harvest the vegetables?"
Simon wouldn't call them vegetables, but he didn't know another word for it, either. They were edible, organic organisms that grew out of the ocean floor – similar to the reef – that resembled that of ocean vegetation. Except they were made out of the same thing everything here was—tissue, flesh or blood. So, not a vegetable because of that aspect, but he supposed Maris called it that because it could be plucked off the floor.
It didn't matter to him. What did though was the relief of not having to uselessly chase after multiple fish. He'd been getting better at hunting, and while he took pride in that, their practice fighting today had drained him enough to where he didn't want to catch anything.
So, picking tissue sea weed, fleshy algae and blood grapes it was. Yum.
The two didn't stray far, each of them within the others range of view. Simon took his time peacefully gathering the desired vegetation, aside from the occasional startle when a small, deformed fish would suddenly dart out in front of him. He could hear Maris nearby along with every small noise in the area, from the swish of their tail to the gurgling of the fish they caught in their maw.
Having a broad hearing range brought him relief as he picked at the organisms along the ocean floor, listening to Maris the entire time. He gathered the desired amount for their meals, making sure to grab a variety of them.
With his arms full of various types of vegetation, his finned ears twitched, picking up on motion nearby. It was too heavy to be the fishes scattered around, nor was it Maris, since he could still hear them swishing around and capturing fish.
Simon's ears pinned back, his brows furrowed as he went to glance in the direction he heard it from. There was barely any time to react, unable to see the body of the beast as he was met with a wide, open jaw filled with rows of razor-sharp teeth.
It was some miracle that his reflexes kicked in as quick as they did. With a startled shout his webbed foot launched off the reef below, the food in his arms dispersing as he darted away, his tail nearly getting caught in the sudden clamp of its jaw. As much as he hated the damn thing, that probably would've hurt more than when it had grown in.
His heart was pounding in his chest as the creature turned around. It was disturbing, the best way he could describe it as a mix between a fish and a bug, with its scaly body and too many winding limbs to count. Add on the usual grisly, bulbous deformities and the bloody veins that's wriggled out of some of these critters, along with the multiple beady eyes that stared him down, it was easy nightmare fuel.
Unfortunately for him, none of this was a nightmare and now he had to deal with the problem in front of him.
Simon had killed before, at least he assumed he had—the impulse was there, even if the memories weren't. Now however? He'd be lying if he said the current circumstances – namely whatever the fuck that thing even was – wasn't the reason his confidence was plummeting.
"Fuck!" He cursed when it charged again, reaching out to swipe a hand aimlessly in its direction while he pushed himself away. His claws managed to dig into the side of its jaw, a defeaning shriek piercing his ears as he took out a chunk of its flesh.
From nearby, Maris' ears picked up on the commotion. Their head lifted up, a fish squirming in their maw as they directed their gaze in that direction. Immediately their eyes narrowed, a low, rumbling growl resonating throughout their body at the sight. The fish was long forgotten, left to float in the sea of crimson.
It was a struggle trying to dodge a creature big enough to swallow him whole, even more so when he was still adapting to moving around. His luck could only last for so long.
Rows of teeth sunk into the end of his tail, drawing a pained cry from him as he was yanked backwards. Agony seared through that area, his clawed, webbed feet sinking into the creature's face in an attempt to pry himself free. The action was futile, further tearing through the scales and flesh stuck between its maw.
Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes, his mouth forming into a snarl as he surged forward on instinct. His hands followed suit, teeth sinking into its flesh while talons dug purposely into a few of the many eyes lining its face.
An ear-splitting screech came from it, releasing his tail in the process as it reeled back. Simon tucked his tail inwards, curling away from the danger to cradle the injury. His heart and mind were racing, adrenaline pumping through his veins as he realized he had to fight this monster off—an impossible feat in his eyes.
Thankfully, he didn't have worry about his next move for long. Before the creature could gain its bearings, a blur of (F/c) scales and long, winding hair slammed directly into its side.
It was a clash of claws and teeth. Maris was smaller in size, yet it was used to their advantage, slipping around the body of the beast before it could snap at them. Any chance they'd get they struck, tearing apart skin, flesh and muscle with ease, a few of the creatures limbs being violently torn off and cast aside.
The sight was gruesome, even for Simon who had a familiarity with bloodshed. He could hear everything—the growls, hisses and shrieks between Maris and the creature, flesh and scales ripping, the tearing of muscle and ligaments, the reef being torn apart as the two wrestled through it. Fleshy remnants were flying everywhere, an occasional chunk of scales floating by that had his heart dropping into his stomach.
He didn't dare intervene, knowing damn well he'd only get mauled in the process. If this is what he had to learn to fight against... Yeah, he might be fucked. Maris would have to protect him for a while longer than he initially thought.
After what felt like an eternity, the creature backed off, whimpering and hissing as it swam as quick as its injured self could. The amount of legs that were ripped off didn't help with its speed, either.
Maris watched it, never once letting their narrowed gaze leave its retreating figure until it was out of sight. Only then did their head turn, sharp eyes landing on Simon and causing him to tense. As comfortable as he was around Maris, he had to admit their expression was terrifying—pitch-black, narrowed eyes, the slits along their face spilt open to reveal more teeth than he could count, stained with blood that was slowly blending into the ocean around them.
Remind him to never get on their bad side.
Immediately their mouth closed, those void-like eyes softening once they fully focused on his curled up form. They wasted no time in swimming over to him, and he didn't have time to react before he was scooped up into their arms and wound up by their tail, squeezing him to their chest like he was something precious they almost lost.
"Are you okay? Your tail, how badly is it hurt? Did it get you anywhere else?" They fired off question after question, all while shifting him around to check for other injuries.
Simon visibly relaxed, the initial fear wearing off as he became pliable in their hold. "It hurts, but I think I'll live." He responded, clearing his throat when it trembled slightly. "Thank you for, uh, that. I would've ended up as its next meal if it weren't for you."
His attempt at a jest was met with a blank stare. "Not funny." They scolded, releasing him from their hold and instead setting him on top of a piece of bone. "Stay put. Right there. I'll gather some sea weed to cover the wounds."
The minute they left, Simon could feel his heart rate pick up again. They didn't go far, only a few feet away as they plucked at the long, winding ribbons that grew from the ground. Even then, he found himself missing the close contact, feeling as exposed and vulnerable as he did before the sudden attack.
As he watched them maneuver around the ocean floor, a frown formed on his lips, separate from the anxiety he was experiencing. There were chunks of scales missing across their body, the once vibrant (F/c) color replaced by deep, red slashes or punctures. A trail of fresh blood followed as they swam, darker than the rest of substance filling the ocean until the two mixed together.
He swallowed thickly, the guilt hitting him like a tidal wave. It was his fault they got hurt, all because he couldn't defend himself.
When they came back with an armful of sea weed – and something else he couldn't identify – he spoke, the hoarse rumble of his voice riddled with worry. "What about you? You look worse than me."
Maris set the pile of sea weed beside him where he sat. "I'll be fine. I've been through worse." They brushed it off, but he could hear the difference in their voice—slower speech and shaky syllables. "Your tail, please."
Simon didn't comply, keeping it tucked behind him as he met their gaze. "Only if you let me take care of you, too." It was a statement, not allowing any argument from their end.
They blinked at him, wide eyes watching him in silence while he refused to break eye contact. It wasn't something he was willing to give up on, knowing they needed it more than he did. Not to mention he felt responsible for this disaster, and it was only right that he tended to their wounds.
It didn't take long for Maris to cave. They merely bobbed their head in agreement, wordlessly holding out their webbed hand as an indicator. Simon complied this time, swishing his tail forward and between his legs for them to access.
He hadn't seen before, but they had gathered some type of gel substance, too. Seeing as there were punctures through his tail, it was used to close them up before getting wrapped with sea weed. Logically he knew their options were limited in an ocean of blood, but even then it grossed him out—also hurt like hell.
Simon tried not to squirm, muffling the whimpers of pain that managed to travel up his throat. It was impossible to hide from Maris' hearing regardless, with them murmuring an apology every time be made the smallest noise and treating him with an even lighter touch. It made his heart ache, so terribly fond of the creature that treated him with utmost tenderness.
They even placed a kiss to the bandaged area once they were finished. If he wasn't a goner before, he was now.
Simon was less skilled than them, but he tried his best to copy how they had patched him up. He felt worse with each one he fixed up, the rugged slices through the scales and skin making his stomach twist into knots.
They'd probably been through worse, like they said, yet it didn't make him feel any less concerned. Especially with how many there were, trailing all the way from the tip of their tail to their chest and arms. By the time he was done with his clumsy attempt at patching them up, they were practically covered in the fleshy weeds.
He grimaced just from remembering what it was made out of. Yeah, he wasn't going to replicate what they did.
Instead he swam upwards, meeting their curious stare before leaning forward. It must've been an amusing sight, being less than half their size to the point he had to swim up to kiss their forehead. His face was burning, no doubt turning the color of the blood they swam in.
Maris on the other hand, was absolutely delighted. Their eyes squinted, a high trill escaping them as they surged forward to capture him. Simon gladly accepted his fate, curling in their arms while they rubbed their cheek against his stubble, a loud purr mixing with his own.
"I'll gather the food we dropped. You can hold onto me." Maris suggested, pressing their forehead against his own to nuzzle their noses together.
Clearly they were unwilling to let him wander off on his own again. He held no objections to that, pressing impossible closer to their form with a content hum. "Sounds good to me."
A/N:
I love imagining Maris just moving Simon around like a doll cause he's so small to them huehehehe
A masterlist for my series from my other blog, revolving around Ryland Grace from Project Hail Mary, Simon from Iron Lung, and my OC Astra.
Not sure how much I have planned for this, but I've been having fun writing it so far, so maybe a few! If you have any questions/requests for it, feel free to ask on either of my blogs! <3
Warnings: Religious themes, some suggestive themes (Simon is fighting demons aka his attraction towards a big scary fish lady)
A/N:
A little late but HAPPY IRON LUNG DIGITAL RELEASE EVERYBODY YAYYY 🎉 I just can't get over how good this movie is with all its little details 😭 And he made it only $10 Mark I love you sm
Now I can watch it over and over again like I am with Project Hail Mary huehehehe
ANYWAY PEOPLE, enjoy your filler chapter before everything goes to shit <3
So sorry this took so long, although I will say it might be a bit before I start the next chapter. I want to get the last two parts with Astra/Simon done first for lore purposes, so I'll be working on those next after I finish Mermay stuff
Two weeks since Simon found himself living on a secret station located on the AT-5 moon.
Two weeks since he was saved from that metal coffin by a giant, terrifying, yet surprisingly benevolent fish lady.
Two weeks since he started experiencing the mutations that he, along with the researchers, speculated was the beginning phase of what Maris went through.
It was a stressful two weeks.
The scales were spreading, inducing more panic as his skin began to gradually dissappear underneath the crimson on his arms, shoulders, torso and legs. His skin began to pale, holding a gray undertone to it, aside from the red, irritated areas speckled around his body. Worst of all, he swore the nails on his fingers were growing sharper, no doubt to become claws similar to Maris'.
There hadn't been any restock of the iodine tablets in that period of time. He figured he could wait until the next shipment arrived to help with the radiation treatment, but no luck.
According to Rora, their communication line with the insiders on the C.O.I.s nearest station had gone dead silent. Any signals they sent out towards them weren't received, which could mean one of two things—a technical error that needed to be fixed on their end, or they've been compromised.
They sounded reluctant to mention that at the time, not wanting to admit aloud that after years of living under secrecy, it could all be falling apart before their eyes. Along with that their supplies were beginning to dwindle, only adding on to the rising tension around the station. For that reason, research had come to a screeching halt.
Simon understood why, obviously. This issue that was once thought to be temporary could turn out to be disastrous—namely the fear of the C.O.I. locating them and putting an end to their entire operation. Years of precious research, fallen into the hands of greed rather than utilized for what was left of humanity.
He knew why they had to be on high alert, why they couldn't focus on further testing for blood ocean samples right now, but he'd be lying if he said he wasn't nervous of the spreading symptoms.
No, that was an understatement. He was fucking terrified.
He tried not to think about it, but that was proven difficult when the creature he was around all the time reminded him of his potential fate. He firmly believed in the theory he made weeks ago, about Maris being the woman from the SM-1. It made sense, even more so now that he saw the symptoms first hand.
Unfortunately, there wasn't any evidence to help him decide whether he was correct or not. Rora told him the black box was retrieved from the SM-1, but it only contained limited data of the woman's findings—no cockpit audio to identify a voice, no digital identification to provide a face, and no entry logs to provide a name.
They even mentioned the x-ray camera from that model emitted far less electromagnetic radiation, to the point they were certain it couldn't have seen through more than a few feet of blood. Apparently the C.O.I. hadn't set up much for the first mission, seeing it as more of a test run rather than an official expedition. That meant less equipment, and any machinery installed was the first of its kind, flawed and intended to be improved upon later.
That said, her name should've been documented in the system, much like the researchers and prisoners that were sent down after her. Rora didn't have an explanation as to why that information was missing.
The more Simon dwelled on it, the more his blood began to boil. Intentional or not, they were never planning on bringing that researcher back. She was their guinea pig, sent down to test if the iron hull could withstand the pressure at different depths, and to see what level of equipment would be necessary later on.
It wasn't shocking in the slightest. He was numb to the C.O.I. and their disregard for human lives, so long as the number lost was justified by the promise of a future for what was left. In their eyes, a few sacrifices meant nothing in the grand scheme of it all.
Maybe it was hypocritical of him to loathe them for such when he looked back on his past actions, the amount of blood that was spilled by his hands. But at least he'd never hidden it under the guise of 'saving humanity', of it being anything other than his own selfish desperation to survive in the endless vacuum of space.
He never chose that path, never chose to take those lives in the name of their Father, to feed the Last Tree and promise them freedom in the afterlife. It was never any of his choice.
The C.O.I did. They saw the path, saw what it would take to reach it and the consequences that would follow, and took it anyway. These missions were out of their own volition, with the same, overused excuse of ensuring a sustainable future for their people—the very same people they were willing to exploit if it suited their cause. They were more than willing to build that future on top of the countless piles of bodies they threw away to achieve it, reserved only for those who remained after the slaughter.
At least on Eden they didn't hold onto false hope, didn't act like there was going to be a second chance for humanity to thrive. It was survival at that point, the last garden in the universe their only chance at freedom beyond the grave. There was nothing left for them while they were trapped in their physical bodies, only the promise of their soul to escape this dark, vast hell.
Simon held some of that sentiment, even with his detachment from their teachings. It was easier to acknowledge this being the end, that it was futile to look for anything more—this station didn't change that, even more so with their current predicament.
This was never about saving humanity, nor was there ever a right side to be on. They were all stuck in a war that'd hold no victors in the end, the echo of their last memories swallowed by the black void of space.
Everything was spiraling out of control again, and he had no clue how to deal with that inner turmoil. He should've figured that his moment of peace on this station would be temporary. Guess he was right to be skeptical, that the promise of him finally being free was too good to be true.
So much for a chance at a new life.
A head slowly peeked into his view, strands of long, damp hair brushing along his clothes. Two large, void-like eyes blinked down at him, her head tilting to the side in a questioning manner as a low, puzzling rumble emitted from her chest.
"Just thinking. Don't worry about me." Simon mumbled, his dark, brown eyes pointed towards the vastness of space above them.
He wasn't sure how long he'd been laying outside on the cold, hard rock, gazing into the endless void surrounding them. A few stars remained persistent, twinkling amidst the darkness while others continued to fade as the years ticked on. Constellations he never got the chance to memorize, now gone forever. Planets he never got to learn about, like they never existed.
It'd been over twenty years since the Quiet Rapture occurred, and he could never rid of the desolation it ingrained in his mind. Moments where he'd space out, a pit of melancholy settled deep in his chest, paired by fuzzy memories of the child who'd never touch Mars again—who'd never get to see his family again.
A coo came from her now, quiet and distressed, as if she could sense his emotional conflict. With a whine she laid back down, head resting comfortably against his stomach where she rubbed her cheek against the fabric of his shirt.
He raised his hand to pet the top of her head, careful of her finned ears as his fingers raked through the dark locks. A familiar purr began to vibrate throughout his body, an attempt to soothe and ward off whatever negativity was tormenting him. Unsurprisingly, it began to calm the uneasy stir within him, replacing his swarming thoughts with the gentle hum of her voice.
He supposed these two weeks haven't been as bad with her around. Something about her presence kept him grounded, prevented his mind from losing itself admist the chaos—a deeper connection that was incomprehensible, one that stretched further beyond the simple aspect of her being his savior.
Though, that did play a big role in it. Simon wouldn't admit to anyone, but since the moment she saved him, some internal part of himself dedicated itself to her. Had it not been for her intervention, he would've died in that ocean, whether it be from that monster tearing his submarine apart, suffocation from lack of oxygen, or drowning in endless amounts of blood. His fate had been sealed until she decided to come along and change it, now he felt like he owed her.
There wasn't much he could give besides himself. Whenever he didn't have to be inside the station, he was out there with her. He disregarded the odd stares he'd get everytime he left, cause at this point, he could care less about what anyone thought of him. None of it mattered.
At one point he switched the Eden bracelet into a necklace for her, seeing as it was constantly slipping off her wrist. That was a physical thing he was able to give her, one of the only possessions he had left that was precious to him, despite the years of bloodshed that tainted it. Nonetheless a part of his soul, now intertwined with hers.
He also had a part of hers, wrapped around his wrist.
After his treatment to her radiation burns – which healed up faster than he anticipated – a new issue arose with her scales falling off. At first he panicked, assuming it was an abnormal side effect due to the injuries. That was until an amused Rora informed him that she regularly sheds scales. Apparently they have a whole bucket of them that they occasionally use for their studies.
With that newfound information, he ended up making a bracelet out of the shiny (F/c) scales. When he showed it off to her, she looked absolutely delighted, chirping and trilling in melodic tones while almost knocking him over from smothering him.
Maris had his sole attention since he arrived, the divinity of her looming figure and the mystery behind the person trapped inside making for an intriguing combination he couldn't seem to shake. His brain desperately wanted to figure it out, like pieces of a puzzle that were missing, begging to be found.
There was a subtle pull in his chest, as if his body could sense something his mind couldn't. Truthfully, it was driving him a bit insane at this point—not to mention the other implication that popped up from that, which he shut down immediately.
It couldn't have been that, because if it was, then he might as well throw himself in the ocean of blood.
When a whine met his ears, he realized his hand hand stopped moving. He resumed the motion, noting how his fingers got caught in a few knots here and there. Now that he thought about it, her hair had been getting more tangled these last few days.
He lifted one of the long strands, watching as it slipped between his fingers. "How do you take care of all this hair? Must be a nightmare." He muttered, a playful note to his deep voice.
Usually her hair was silky smooth, so she had to have some kind of routine to keep it clean. Apparently he was about to find out, her head perking up as she suddenly pushed herself off of his body. He could feel the cold air sweeping in where she once was, his stomach twisting at the loss while his brain fought to ignore it.
His brows furrowed together as he lifted his head to see her retreating figure. "Where are you go—?" Her giant form dipped beneath the surface of the blood ocean before he could finish, disappearing from his sight as the long flap of her tail followed suit. "..Okay, bye I guess."
He rolled his eyes, a smile on his lips as he laid his head back down on the rocky surface. Dark, wavy locks sprawled around his head, which he noticed had taken on a crimson hue at the edges recently—nope, he wasn't going to think about it.
A couple minutes after Maris left, she popped back up again, this time with an object secured between her sharp teeth. Simon moved into a sitting position, watching with mild amusement as she shook herself off at the shore, ridding of as much blood as possible. Not like it mattered since he was infected anyway, but it was thoughtful nonetheless.
She maneuvered her body closer, until she was able to drop what was in her mouth near his boots. A delighted chirp left her, her claws nudging at what looked like a type of bone—a broken half of a ribcage, judging from the structure.
Simon rose an eyebrow, his face scrunched up in disturbance. "That's what you use to comb your hair? Bones?" He asked slowly, unable to keep the hint of disgust out of his tone. Judging from the enthusiastic bob of her head followed by a pitched noise of confirmation, she didn't notice.
He didn't dare touch it, both because it was still dripping with blood and he had no idea where the hell she got it from. Could've been from a dead creature down there, or it grew from the congealed blood floor—he wasn't sure which sounded worse to him.
"Guess you don't have many options." He mumbled to himself, eyes flickering between the bones and her giddy expression. She was like a dog, tail swishing back and forth behind her, and it took him a second to catch on. "You, uh... want me to brush your hair for you?"
She whistled a delightful tune, finned ears twitching on either side of her head while her wide, dark eyes squinted at him. Again she nudged the ribcage with her talon-like fingers, before lowering her head and body to the ground at his feet until she was laying flat.
Immediately his gaze snapped away, a sudden wave of heat flooding his face. "H–how about I..." He trailed off, racking his brain for an alternative that did not involve the blood-covered comb of bones. "I can grab an actual comb from inside instead. That okay with you?"
Maris blinked, eyes lowering to the ribcage, then back up to his face as she gave a single tap on the rocks. He wasn't sure if she was able to sense his reluctance, but he was relieved either way. If he could avoid anything else from that horrifying ocean, he would.
Simon went to retrieve the comb from his room, his gaze landing on a pair of scissors alongside them. He pocketed those as well, heading back out and ignoring every strange glance he got—either from his actions, or his steadily changing appearance.
As he approached, her head lifted up, tilting to the side once she saw the gleam of metal in one hand. He lifted it up for her view, gesturing towards the never-ending length of tangled hair for emphasis.
"I brought some scissors. Figured you could use a haircut, too." He suggested, cracking a smile when she gave an interested chirrup in response. "Let me spray you down first, get rid of all the blood."
He didn't know the science behind it, only that the researchers here were able to convert blood from the ocean into fresh water. They had a flexible tube running from the ocean into one of the labs, where it was then processed into clean water that ran along the piping system throughout the station.
They had accomplished the two main things humanity needed to survive—a reliable food source and renewable water. Although, without the aid of Maris, retrieving fish from the ocean is too dangerous on their own, so that was a glaring issue. People won't be as willing to trust a large, terrifying sea creature like they were.
There was a new submarine they were working on, one that would be controlled to collect fish on its own so they didn't have to risk any lives. The machinery for that was far from ready, leaving the project to rest near the docks for the time being.
It wasn't perfect, but it was the furthest they'd come to surviving in this barren universe without the threat of starvation or dehydration. Now came the issue of trying to help those in need without the C.O.I. council intervening for leverage.
For now though, he was more focused on the giant fish lady wiggling around like an eager puppy as he grabbed the hose. She enjoyed the feeling of being sprayed with water, which was funny, considering Rora informed him it used to be a tactic to stop her from clawing at the dock. Now she was immune and instead had to be bribed with cooked fish.
Maris sat up straight, tail curled along the rocks for balance. Her eyes closed, hands resting in her lap while he washed off the crimson liquid coating her form. Cleaning her skin, tail and fins was relatively easy, but the hair was a different story. Getting a better look at it, the long, winding locks were sticking together from chunks of blood – and other bits he didn't want to identify – twisting and tangling together to create one big mess.
"Yeah, that doesn't look good. I'll have to cut off a lot." He decided aloud, knowing damn well there was no way this measly comb was getting through that without snapping in half. "I'm no hair stylist, so don't hold it against me if it turns out bad."
A rumble came from her chest, low with sporadic bursts, sounding similar to a laugh. One of her clawed hands reached up towards the long locks trailing along the side of her face. With a singular talon she trapped it against her torso, a little underneath her chest.
He stared quizzically at that spot for a second, until he realized where he was looking and averted his gaze with an awkward clearing of his throat. "That's the length you want?" He guessed, figuring that's what she was trying to communicate.
Her ears twitched, a high-pitched noise leaving her in confirmation. It was such a simple action, yet one that spoke a million words, hinting towards a mind that once belonged to a human. No random creature would understand the concept of maintaining their hair, but Maris knew without a doubt—the brain of someone with that experience, trapped behind the body of a monster.
He'd be lying if he said this entire identity mystery wasn't driving him crazy everytime he interacted with her.
That, and something else he absolutely refused to acknowledge.
Even now as he peered up at form, towering over him despite the fact she was sitting on her tail. Never in his life had he felt so small next to someone, having always been the tallest one at his six foot stature. But Maris was easily three times his size, able to cradle him to her chest and wrap her entire tail around his body like he was the smallest thing she held—she has done it before and he doesn't doubt she will again.
Not that he minded, far from it. There was a level of comfort that came from her size, of knowing this giant, mutant fish woman was protective over him, even if it was for reasons he didn't understand. She could've easily snapped him in half if she wanted to, could've easily ripped him to shreds if she wasn't so fond of him, could've easily pinned him against the ground with her inhuman strength and pressed against—
No, absolutely not. He did not just think that, or anything along the lines of that these past few days.
God, what the fuck was happening to him? It had to be the mutations messing with his brain chemistry or something. Yes, that made more sense than him wanting to...
Simon averted his gaze, clearing his throat as his face burned under the intensity of her stare. He wasn't sure if she was intelligent enough to read body language, but he prayed for his own sake she couldn't. "Just make sure to sit still the entire time so I don't cut too much off."
A soft, reverberating note came from her chest, her eyes squinting down at him. Taking that as confirmation, he quickly got to work as he stepped around her, willing away any thoughts in favor of focusing on the task at hand. That's all he should think about right now, cutting and brushing out her hair.
The scissors weren't nearly as sharp as he'd hoped in comparison to her thick, tangled locks. It took longer than he expected to saw through a majority of it, until all that was left was down to the middle of her back and torso, a pile of long, dark hair left on the rocks to the side of her.
When it came to brushing out the knots left behind, Maris made a bit of a fuss. Not that he could blame her, since the blood had definitely done a number on twisting the strands together. However, it didn't exactly help to have her pulling away everytime he tried, hissing in a way that was mildly irritated. Her eyes narrowed and her nose scrunched up, evidently displeased with the tugging on her hair.
For a minute it turned into a battle, Simon's complaints ringing in the air along with her annoyed whines, as she constantly tried to dodge the comb by either shifting her body away or shoving him away with her hand. It was similar to pushing over a child, barely requiring any strength when her palm pressed to his chest, talons reaching across the width of him and nearly engulfing him.
He looked up at her from the ground, able to make out the amusement dancing across her scaled features from behind stray locks of hair. "So what part of sit still did you not understand? This is very much the opposite of that." He huffed out, though his voice held no real frustration to it.
Maris' ears flickered, grumbling at him while she pointedly stared at the comb he held. Her tail smacked against the rocks, her head and body jerking away to turn her back towards him, making her discontent known.
With a groan he sat up, his arms lazily hanging off his knees as he stared at her back with a glare. "It hurts, I get that. But how else am I supposed to get these damn knots out?" There was a pause, then a shift in her posture paired with a reluctant huff. "Exactly. If you just let me do what I need to do, it'll be over with quicker. So?"
She spared a glance over her shoulder, meeting his awaiting stare before her body began to relax. Another huff left her, making it known she wasn't thrilled about the outcome, yet nonetheless twisting back around to face him properly. There was a curl of her lip when he approached again, her eyes squinted at him like it was a warning.
It didn't faze him, knowing well enough by now she'd never hurt a single hair on his head. Well, except for shoving him around like a ragdoll whenever she wasn't getting her way. Other than that, she was almost too gentle with him, as if he would shatter beneath her—that may have been true, since she almost knocked the wind out of him a couple of times.
She was insanely strong... and incredibly bossy for a creature that couldn't speak.
"I'll get you some cooked fish when we're done, sound good?" He offered, hoping it'd prevent another round of rough-housing.
The reaction to his bribery was instant. Her finned ears perked up and her dark eyes widened, a high, delightful tune coming from her throat. She leaned forward, bumping her head against him before nuzzling her cheek against his own, her scales scraping across the rough texture of his beard.
A chuckle left him, fully accustomed to her affectionate gestures by now as he rested his hand along the back of her neck. "Should've known that's the only way you'll comply." He muttered, rolling his eyes while he gently pushed her face away. "Now sit still. I'm serious."
Her chest rumbled with quiet laughter, yet she did as told, remaining hunched over with her hands splayed against the rocks. The angle made it far easier to reach, unlike before where she was purposely avoiding him.
This time she didn't dodge the comb, though he was still met with a grumble or two when it got caught in the tangled mess—he offered an apology under his breath each time. Once he started making progress, he noticed her complaining notes growing quieter, until eventually a soft, content purr began emitting from her chest.
The dark locks were wet and silky beneath his fingertips, able to run the comb through them without any struggle. There were some ends that he had to fix with the scissors now that it was clean and straightened, but other than that, he'd give himself the credit of not doing a terrible job at fixing someone's hair for the first time. An unimaginable amount of hair, at that.
Plus, he could actually see her facial features more clearly after getting rid of that middle section of hair that constantly fell across her face. It was strange how human her face structure looked, aside from the noticeable mutations around the eyes, mouth and scales.
The shape itself was familiar in way that tugged at his chest. He couldn't put his finger on it, nor did he like the way his heart was starting to race a mile a minute the longer her stared, like a flight or fight response.
Simon stumbled back, coughing awkwardly when she tilted her head in puzzled manner, the purring stopping abruptly. "Let me, uh, go get that fish for you. I'll be right back."
He didn't wait for any type of response, nearly running as he made his way back inside the station. Rather that heading for the cafeteria, he booked it back to his room to put the comb and scissors away—at least that's what he told himself.
But once the door shut behind him, the pound of his heartbeat in his ears was becoming increasingly hard to ignore, as was the never-ending buzz of mind. It was as if seeing Maris in that new light activated something in his brain, a memory lying dormant that he couldn't identify despite the jarring sensation it left behind.
What the fuck was it? Why was he reacting like this? His body felt similar to how it did when he was on the verge of a panic attack, minus the impeding sense of dread that accompanied it. Even then it was all-consuming, leaving him dizzy and breathless as the two items clattered to the ground.
Simon was almost convinced he was dying, that the mutations were finally starting to take full effect. Except his arms looked the same, patched with red scales that had yet to change, and he wasn't growing any extra appendages yet. So it wasn't that, even though his brain desperately wanted to blame it as such.
No, he wasn't stupid. However, he was really trying to find any other rational explanation to what this was. Unfortunately, every path lead back to the same conclusion he was doing everything he could to avoid.
God.
Oh god.
There's no fucking way he was actually attracted to a large, terrifying, mutant fish woman that emerged out of an ocean of blood.
That sentence alone was driving him more insane, cause it made no fucking sense. If Father could see him now, he'd be actively burying him alive in the soil of the Last Tree.
Maybe he deserved that, revolted by himself at this newfound discovery. Yes, he was nearly one-hundred percent certain that Maris was human before, which brought a sliver of comfort to his racing mind. Except she wasn't anymore, and that was a major detail.
It wasn't a normal human he started lusting after. No, it was a sea creature, three times his size, with the inhuman strength to snap him in half if she so pleased. She wouldn't even have to use a muscle to pin him to the ground, talons digging into his skin while rows of razor-sharp teeth threaten to sink into the column of his throat—
Fuck, no.
This was bad. This was fucking awful.
It had to be the mutations affecting his brain chemistry... right? Anything else to justify this depravity, to will away these thoughts into the emptiness of space around them.
Dear fucking god, he was going to throw up. How did this happen? When did this happen? At some point his brain had blurred the lines between admiration and devotion, unable to separate the two and blending it into the most fucked up form of dependent attachment he'd ever experienced in his life.
Worst part was, he had no fucking clue what to do about it. It was impossible to ignore now, but there was no way in hell he was acting out on that instinct. Maris could barely communicate as it was, there was no possible way for her to give a verbal confirmation, even if she comprehended the words he spoke.
Fuck him. Was he actually thinking about confessing to a hybrid fish woman? He's lost his damn mind, he was certain.
Was it too late to throw himself in the ocean and drown? That seemed like a great option compared to all the others.
He ran his hands down his face, subtle claws scratching at the heated skin. They were shaking as they dragged to his jaw, resting there while he stared ahead at the wall with wild, dilated pupils. His chest was heaving, struggling to catch his breath while every nerve ending lit afire inside of him. Somehow, this was worse than every horrifying moment of his life combined.
Simon didn't know how long he stayed paralyzed to the spot in his room, his mind in a frenzy while his body refused to move. He was supposed to be getting the fish, it was the sole reason he came into the station, and it shouldn't be taking this long.
But the mere thought of seeing her again after his revelation twisted his stomach into knots—in a good or bad way, he couldn't tell the difference anymore.
Unfortunately, the guilt was too strong to ignore, knowing she was out there waiting on him and probably confused as to why he hadn't returned. So he forced himself out the door, his legs like lead and his arms on autopilot.
When he stepped out into the thin air, he wasn't expecting Maris to be gone, leaving only a pile of hair in her place. He also wasn't expecting the large tow ship settling into place against the docking area.
Suddenly his blood turned ice cold, alarm bells ringing in his head that disregarded his breakdown from mere moments ago. The platter of fish was tossed aside carelessly, his boots crunching against the rocks as he stormed over to the dock.
A woman hopped off the ship first, that blonde braid and ghostly pale eye one he could never forget. The rage was immediate, rushing through his veins like molten lava once they made eye contact from opposite ends of the dock. There was a hint of surprise in her gaze, though it vanished as quick as it came, replaced with something else he couldn't bother to decipher.
No, all that was on his mind was that he should've kept those damn scissors on hand when he came back out here.
Ava broke the silence, wary of the deathly stare he had fixated on her as she remained in place. "Nice to see you're still alive, Convict." It wasn't genuine nor was it sarcastic, more of a formality than anything else, stated with a sharp edge.
It didn't matter how she spoke, Simon bristled the minute her lips began moving, his feet rushing forward on their own accord. "It's you, you– you fucking—!"
He could see her face drop as he charged forward, could see the exact second her good eye flooded with fear, a sharp contrast compared to her composed posture. It struck a chord deep down within him, buried between years of indignation, years of isolation and false promises, and the agonizing realization of being nothing more than a sacrifice for the rest of humanity.
He could've strangled her, and would've, had a sudden force not blocked him from doing so. Rora stood before him, using their entire body to hold him back, barely strong enough to do even that. Their shoes scraped across the metal surface of the dock, pushing against Simon to slow him down.
He relented with a grunt, carelessly shoving Rora off of him as his glare remained unwavering. "Why the fuck is she here?! She's the reason we were forced to do any of this!" He spat, briefly directing his anger towards the person beside him, the fresh betrayal hitting him like a punch to the gut.
"Please, calm down and let me explain." Rora insisted, sounding urgent, pleading and defeated all at once. "She was, yes. But we've recently gotten into contact through their radio transmissions, and we made a deal. They have supplies we need, and she promised not to inform the C.O.I. council if we let her in on our operations. It was a mutual agreement."
Simon scoffed, unwilling to believe that for a single second—not after what she did to him, to all of them. "Bullshit! You trust her? I bet she's already told the C.O.I. and they'll be arriving any minute to take over this entire fucking thing. 'Cause it's bigger than all of us, isn't it?" He quoted her words mockingly, vividly recalling what she told him when he begged her to let him out, to let him live.
She'd sent all of them to their deaths, lied to one after the other about how many had been down there, and that they'd get to return to the surface. She was a captain assigned by the C.O.I. council themselves, meant to do whatever they asked of her for these missions. There was no doubt in his mind that this would be the same.
Out of the corner of his eye he could see movement through the unruly waves of the crimson ocean, paying it little mind in his enraged state.
"I did say that, yes. I still stand by it." Ava responded in a cool, collected manner, the stern edge to her voice only serving as fuel to his fire. "However, after some persuasion from one of the lead researchers from the C.O.I., and a long explanation of how this all came to be, I have... reconsidered my approach on the matter, as have my crew."
Rora quickly chimed back in, trying to further convincing the agitated man. "She acknowledged that what we have here can change humanity, but it's not quite there yet. So, she's willing to keep it a secret and gather the supplies we need, in exchange for information on the research we've attained so far." They paused, scanning over Simon's pinched countenance with a flicker of recognition. "I know you might not want to forgive her for what she's done—"
"You're damn right I don't." Simon hissed, uncaring to what else they had to add on to that. He continued to scowl at the two, even as he began to back away from dock. "But if you want to risk this whole thing by letting her in on it, then that's not my fucking problem. Have fun getting stormed by the C.O.I. militia."
He wasn't sure where he was going, because there wasn't any other place to go. He just knew that he was pissed and he needed to leave before he did something he'd regret. Unfortunately, the captain wasn't making it easy for him—she hadn't since the very beginning of their interactions with one another.
"What if I told you I have valuable informational regarding your... sea creature friend." Ava called out to him, her tone indecipherable. It held the same firm edge, yet there was a softer note, a hint of sorrow mixed with reminiscence.
Every muscle in his body became tense, his lungs squeezing to where his breath caught in his throat. He froze where he stood, anger quietly simmering into doubt and overpowering whatever flicker of hope there was.
"What?" That one word was blurted out in disbelief, his scattered brain taking a second to form an actual sentence. "How would you know anything about that? Unless you were—"
"Yes, I was the captain for every mission, starting with the SM-1." She was quick to confirm, seeing him finally catch on to what she was implying. "I remember the woman that was sent down in there. I think you'll remember her, too."
That last sentence evoked a painful reaction out of him, a deep ache in his chest that left him breathless. Emotions blended together, anticipation, shock, dread and worry mixing into one to create an inner turmoil that was eating him alive. "But there's... there's no way... I just— I know her? I knew her? What—?"
Ava parted her lips, about to either tell him what he'd been dying to figure out this entire time, or lie to his face again. Neither came, replaced by a startled noise as the ocean stirred beside her, the surface breaking as spurts of blood rained down around them.
Maris' form towered over the blonde, talons gripping at the edge of the dock where they sliced through the metal. Those dark, empty eyes were focused solely on her, pinning her where she stood with her back against the edge of the ship. A low growl broke through the silence, rumbling behind rows of bared teeth.
All three of them barely had time to react before she lunged forward with a shriek.
A/N:
I love writing Simon's thoughts as just a string of curses, that's his entire vocabulary atp
I’ve never draw digitally before and this is more of me coloring over references than actual drawing, but I couldn’t get it out of my head sooo
Does she really misjudge the distance of the bars from her face or is she just happy to see Simon?
I got this idea after reading “An unlikely pair”.
inspired by this meme:
Hope you enjoy :3
OH MY GOD??? YOU MADE SOMETHING FOR HER I LOVE IT, I COULD CRY OH MY GOD, IT'S SO CUTE LDKWOFKWK 🥹🥹
And I'd say it's a mix of both! Obviously with the other prisoners she's not trying to look into their cells. Then with Simon, she gets excited to go see him and she's kind of in a rush to greet him, so she's not paying attention to how close her face gets when she goes to peer through the bars. She also has it in the back of her mind that the guards are watching at times, so it makes her a bit on edge and she just ends up smacking her face against the cell window trying to get a quick glance at him before she has to do her assessment. So I guess her nerves are all over the place and she just doesn't realize how close she's getting until it's too late and she gets a new scar on her face lol.
Anyway, I love it sm this has made my entire week I will cherish it ty ty ty 🫶❤️❤️ And ty for reading my fic of them it means a lot 🥹
how are you babes? I know you posted a few days ago but we miss you 🤓🤪
Hi hi lovely Anon!! ❤️ I've been good, even though my writing has been a little all over the place lately and I wish it wasn't slfksls
But I'm currently working on the next chapter for Curious Creature, so I can hopefully feed you all some Maris and Simon bonding – and him losing his fucking mind – soon! :D
And I may have written a self-indulgent Ryland/Astra/Simon oneshot cause I finally watched PHM and its all I can think about now—
Once those are up I'll be resuming Mermay requests, which I have extended to June now! :)
Hello! Could we get some post-iron lung Mer-Ava head cannons? (ie: her transformation, her reaction, behavior, etc)
Hiii Anon, ofc ofc!! Finally get to write a little bit for Ava, I'm excited :D
I might extend this event to June, because I've been slower than I originally anticipated with answering these asks fksjlfsl
•Similar to those before her, her submarine was destroyed by the monster, leaving her suspended in the middle of the blood ocean with metal debri floating around. The blood enters via any open wounds, mixing with the hosts blood to begin the mutation process
•Ava, much like Simon, was passed out for the first part of the mutation. The person dies from suffocation, until the mutated cells work through the body to revive it, adding gills in the process so manual breathing is no longer required
•When she woke up to the excruciating pain and her body actively changing, she did try to remain as calm as she could. Obviously it's a difficult situation to keep a level head in, but in her mind panicking doesn't solve anything and only makes the situation worse
•Instead she tried to focus on the waves of pain coursing through her body, working through it as best as she could. Naturally she was still freaked out by all of this – it'd be impossible not to be for any human – but it was more of an internal response that she didn't allow to break through her exterior
•Her mutation was longer and more agonizing compared to Simon's, because her body grew larger—women tend to grow bigger during the process while men remain around the same size
•The entire time she hovered near the ocean floor, figuring it was safer than floating in the endless abyss around her, especially when unknown creatures began to swim past. Some deformed fishes, others like nothing she had ever seen before, indescribable and admittedly horrifying to witness without the protection of a metal hull around her
•At that point she did curl up and cry for a minute, the sensations, realization and fear eventually becoming too overwhelming for her to bear. Panic set in, despite how desperately she wanted to keep herself in a reasonable headspace
•By the time her transformation was done, she had grown a long tail with scales of a red and golden hue, matching the various sized fins running along it. She had dark crimson claws and spines that faded into a pale gold, along with long, winding crimson ribbons that flowed around her figure, meant to make her appear even larger and intimidating
•Ava was exhausted by the time it was over, her body still aching paired with the occasional spike of pain when she moved. At that point, her mind was dazed and she wasn't exactly sure what to do after the worst part of it was over. So for a while, she simply laid along the congealed blood and bones below her until her mind and body could recover from the torment
•After some time, the first thought she had was to search for the black box. Her memory was still intact for the time being, and she decided she could use this new form to her advantage. She didn't dare try to wrap her head around how any of this was possible, nor how she'd have to address her future as this unidentifiable creature now. That was an issue for later, and she didn't want to spiral out of control again
•Ava was still terrified, but she also had a mission to accomplish, so she would mask it in favor of focusing on the task at hand. She wanted to get this done, to contribute to something bigger than her, even with these bizarre, terrifying circumstances
•Unfortunately, as time ticks on with her swimming around in an attempt to find the lost black box, her memories would slowly begin to fade. Older memories slip first, enough that she can write it off, that she couldn't recall them as well since it had been so long
•Then she couldn't remember something as recent as these missions she began conducting for the C.O.I., until eventually she could barely recall why she had been sent down in the ocean in the first place. The alarm bells were ringing in her head, yet she regarded it with frustration rather than dread, cursing herself for not being able to jog her own memory of her purpose
•So as a mermaid, she's now stuck in this loop of searching for something she can no longer remember, making her rather aggressive and hostile to any creatures that get in her way. If any creature comes near her while she's out scouring the ocean floor, she'll attack without a second thought, seeing it merely as an obstacle—or a potential meal since she still had to eat
•She's very secluded for that reason as well, choosing to live in a cave that's farthest from the bustling ecosystem growing along the blood ocean's floor
🩸Feel free to skip this because it might be too involved of an ask, but someone's gotta! Elli the eel monster but...mermaid! Interpreted however you wish!
Okay okay okay, so in my AU Elli isn't an amalgamation of the SM-8 crew, given that every sub after the SM-1 was rescued by Maris. So she's just an ancient creature that already existed in the blood ocean
Howeverrrrr, I still want to keep the concept of her being an entity made up of multiple beings, even as a mermaid! So here's some headcanons + an artwork of how I imagined her :)
And I've entered your name into the raffle, ty for participating!! <3
•Elli as a mermaid would remain around the same size as her eel form. She's enormous, the largest sea creature that exists in the blood ocean on AT-5
•On her head the top half is covered by a skull, with dark locks of hair slipping out from underneath it, flowing behind her and past her waist. There are two skulls fused against each side of her head, which she can control—all three mouths can spilt open wide and have rows upon rows of razor-sharp teeth
•She has multiple eyes, the main pair in the center and three smaller ones on each side. She can also see through the eye sockets of the skulls around her head, making her view range far wider
•She has multiple arms – four full arms and two hands on each side – and her tail spilts into two, with one major fin on the ends of them
•The spines of her fins are made up of various sized bones, along with her claws, spikes along the length of her tails, and the ends of each of her tails
•Veins grow out from different parts of her body, which are often used to catch prey, either wrapping around it until she slices it open, or to attach to the prey and suck out its insides through the small tubes
•Her current form isn't always a constant, shifting new limbs, fins, spikes, etc. at random depending on what she needs
•Elli was the first creature to exist in the blood ocean. It is unknown how she came to exist, nor how an abundance of sea life appeared after her. What is known is that every single living thing in that ocean is connected to her
•She is the only creature that can communicate across species, though she can't outwardly speak and instead does so through telepathic transmission
•When she does her voice sounds like a distant echo, surrounding the creature from all directions, yet unable to be found. There is a distance limit to what she hears, but enough for her to be out of sight when using it
•Elli's voice/sounds changes tones and pitches at times, some deeper some higher, some more masculine and others more feminine. It depends on how she wants to appear to whatever she's speaking to, a tactic to evoke a certain emotion in the creature
•At times she'll mimic voices, either ones she's heard before or ones from the creature's memories
•She is able to influence creatures thoughts and actions, to some extent. Minds that are complex take more effort for her to gain control over
•She's an unpredictable creature, one moment completely calm and the next tearing a fish from the inside out when it swims too close to her cave. Her behavior often matches how her tone sounds, or shifts depending on what part of her is in control
•Whereas some creatures minds are split in two – Maris for example – hers has four separate sections, each containing a different part of herself that influences how she reacts to certain scenarios
•Anyone that has been contaminated by the blood from the ocean, she has the potential to influence how they behave. The more blood that is absorbed and multiplied inside the body, the stronger the connection between them is
•Elli doesn't typically bother with the other creatures of the ocean besides for her food supply, until the day something foreign appeared in her territory, and she decided to do what it took to ensure the safety of her thriving ecosystem. She'd have to keep an eye on the woman that came out of that strange metal contraption
WHAT'S YOUR ETA? TWO MINUTES, CHILL OUT MAN WE'RE RIGHT ON TIME 🗣🗣
Please someone get it—
I have started writing the next chapter!! However I'm not sure how long it'll take me 😭 I've been a bit behind because of stuff, so it's still gonna be a bit with my Mermay requests in-between
I hope to have it done during this month, and I'm gonna try my best to! I want to feed you guys I really do but my writing motivation has been a roller-coaster lately 🫠
