Pronouns: any // Name: Wendy // Age: you don't gotta know // Consistancy who? // I will die before I give up this stupid, basic-ass pfp purely because of spite.
Basic information about me can be found in the description box.
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It's 20##, I don't give a fuck if you hate g/t or vore. Get off my page if so.
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If I ever decide to post more stuff, it'll be here, regardless of fandom. Old stuff is still linked through old masterpost.
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-Mcyt Fandom Writing that was Left in the Drafts: t!healer!Squidkid & g!mer!Techno (intended to have noms, none written); Human!Phil and Mer!Techno (outline, noms)
Lixian is a little nervous...but Mark has proven himself to be trustworthy so far. He'll be fine...at least, Lixian's sure if he keeps telling himself that, he'll start to actually believe it.
Anyway! So, borrower!Lixian au where he sneaks by to edit Mark's videos, is a little bit of a troll, and eventually gets caught. It's all good tho, because Mark lets him go when he notices how scared the borrower is, no questions asked.
Lixian hesitantly stays after that, because, though the human's sheer size terrifies him, Mark seems very kind, and...Lixian really enjoys editing videos. He doesnt want to lose the opportunity to keep doing it. Eventually, he and Mark start talking to each other, and Lixian trusts Mark enough to let the human pick him up.
Also! @boiled-ginger-ale ! I tried again to imitate your art style. What do you think this time?
Anyway i've been holding onto this one fir about three years, oops xD. Have fun : D
Word Count: 3,447
Warning: Vore, duh, fear of death, etc.
Karl had to do a double-take when he saw something dart along the base of the wall, almost completely concealed in shadows.
Was that…Sapnap?!
Karl subtly leaned closer, slowing his stride in the fancy hall to peer at the little guy. If it wasn't Sapnap, or if it was possible that they were one of his fiancé's ancestors, (even in spite of the difference in size, it was possible) he didn't want to scare them off from whatever they were doing. That had the chance of causing bad things down the road.
Karl's eyes widened as he got a better look at the little guy. With black pants and sleeves, a white shirt with a fire emblem on the front, and the clincher, the final affirmation that it was Sapnap, the long, white bandana keeping his hair out of his face made it undeniable of who the tiny person was.
The time traveler's steps faltered. Down, down, down, at the shadowed baseboards by the carpet, was Sapnap! His Sapnap! Karl didn't know why he was three inches tall, or why he was in the past with him, but the time traveler knew that he couldn't just leave him here all alone! It would be too unsafe, both for his miniature fiancé, and for the current timeline. Karl didn’t know what would happen if a non-traveller was left roaming around in the past, but he did know that it wouldn't be anything good.
The only question was, how did he get Sapnap out of here? The past and future could often be dangerous, and it would only be moreso to someone who was inexperienced with navigating through it. Not even to mention how dangerous it could be to someone as small as Karl’s fiancé currently was.
The fireborn's back was pressed against the wall, shoulders hunched, and he was peering suspiciously up at Karl. With a small jolt, Karl realized that he had been standing there for a solid few seconds. Sapnap probably thought something was up.
Shouldn't Sapnap recognize him…? It wasn't like Karl had changed his clothes or hair or anything, not for this timeline. Heck, the only thing different was his book bag slung around his chest!
A thought suddenly occurred to him. Some of their ancestors did look the same as everyone Sapnap knew. Maybe he had a run-in with some of them. Maybe he thought Karl was one of them.
Karl frowned when he abruptly noticed something, narrowing his eyes and peering down the hallway. He could hear the echoing of approaching footsteps. Multiple footsteps.
Oh. Oh no. He was running out of time for any sort of internal debate. He had to figure this out and get Sapnap somewhere safe. Fast.
Acting quickly, he crouched down and caught the miniature fireborn in his fist. He hissed in pain when he felt his fiancé's tiny body immediately start to burn in his hand, and he hurriedly spoke to him.
"Sapnap, Sap, it's me, it's Karl, it's Karl, your Karl," he breathed, raising his fist in front of his face. His fiancé stilled, then slowly rose his gaze to meet Karl's. It took a moment, but recognition began to sparkle in Sapnap's eyes, and his body temperature started to drop to a more bearable, less scorching heat.
Sapnap's jaw fell open, but all the same, he relaxed in Karl's fist, obviously feeling safe.
"There are people coming," Karl quietly warned, glancing worriedly down the hall. Sapnap’s wide eyes followed his gaze, where he caught the gradually increasing sound of footsteps scraping along the floor.
"I'm going to do something, it'll keep you safe, but…" Karl swallowed hesitantly and looked back down at his fiancé. Sapnap met his gaze with worried, furrowed eyes.
"Can you trust me, Sapnap?" Karl blurted suddenly, brushing one of his fingertips over Sapnap's arm. The fireborn flinched before leaning into the touch. Karl didn’t like how jittery he was. It didn’t seem…normal for the fireborn to be so jumpy.
Hesitantly, Sapnap nodded. He couldn't seem to conjure up any words at the moment, still gobsmacked at Karl's sudden size and appearance, but yeah, he could. Of course he could trust Karl! He'd never hurt Sapnap. Never.
A terrified burst of thought suddenly reminded him of something, of someone, and he blurted his words quickly, knowing Karl would, could, help.
"W-wait!" Sapnap choked out, raising his hands. He hurriedly rushed his next words, acutely aware of the approaching footsteps. "Quackity–Quackity's here somewhere–we got separated, a-and I don't know where he went! I couldn't find him!" Karl's eyes widened and he sucked in a small gasp.
"Quackity's here…?" Karl shook his head. "Okay. Okay, I'll find him, don't worry, alright?"
Sapnap nodded hopefully, some of the tense lines in his shoulders loosening in relief. Karl kept a close eye down the carpeted hall while he took care of Sapnap. He'd probably see the shadows of the approaching people first.
"I, I'm gonna need you to stay quiet, okay?" He muttered, shifting Sapnap to hold him in cupped hands. The fireborn nodded unsurely, wobbling a little on the unfamiliar, unsteady surface he was on. Karl gave him a small, hopefully reassuring smile despite his own anxiety, brow creasing even more.
"Just, it's okay, don't panic, and stay calm, alright?" Sapnap nodded again, a little more certain this time, and Karl took that as a good enough confirmation as any that Sapnap wouldn't self-immolate whilst inside him. With that last thought, the time traveler decided that if he was going to do anything, he had to do it now.
Karl's cupped hands rose up, bringing Sapnap higher and higher until he was dead-even with Karl's lips. They parted, revealing the huge, dark, gaping cavern of his maw. Sapnap could see each and every one of Karl's teeth in perfect detail, every glittering sharp edge, every point of each incisor. A single strand of silvery saliva glistened, stretching from the top row of teeth all the way down to the huge, blocky bottom teeth. It caught the fireborn’s eyes like a fly to a web, and it was as if he couldn’t tear his gaze away.
Sapnap's heart stuttered at the sight, and he sucked in a strangled gasp.
"K-Karl?" Sapnap managed to croak, uncertainty lacing his tone. He pushed himself backwards in Karl's wide palms, heartbeat starting to pick up a little.
The lips closed, cutting off Sapnap's petrified gaze, and he blinked up at his fiancé with a shuddery breath.
"Do you trust me, Sapnap?" Karl asked again, more firmly. The lips in front of the fireborn moved in tandem with the quietly asked question, stealing Sapnap's attention once more.
"Y-yeah," Sapnap managed distractedly. He did. Karl wouldn't hurt him. He wouldn't. He knew this. But…Karl was so big. And he seemed to want to put Sapnap in his mouth. Sapnap had a small, blooming inkling of what Karl was wanting to do, but that just made the whole concept scarier.
"Okay," Karl sighed. "Okay. Just…it'll be alright, Sap, okay?" The fireborn mustered up enough courage to give Karl an incredibly hesitant, shaky nod. It would be fine. Karl said so. It would.
Karl pressed a gentle kiss against the top of Sapnap's head, flattening the man's hair over his eyes, then opened his mouth once more.
Sapnap was gently dumped inside, then teeth and lips closed behind him, sealing him in complete, all encompassing darkness. Sapnap’s hands and knees sunk down into the plush, damp surface underneath him, and he shivered.
Karl's–tongue pushed lightly at his body, sliding him backwards and inadvertently globbing him with a warm, slick substance. Saliva. Sapnap held back an uncertain whimper, forcing his eyes shut and curling his arms closer to his chest.
This was Karl, this was just Karl. Karl, who wouldn't hurt him no matter what.
Sapnap had to keep telling himself this as he was gently shifted and turned around Karl's mouth, clothes and hair getting soaked through in his fiancé's saliva and occasionally being squashed by the massive, pliant tongue.
A rumbling vibration built up, and Sapnap realized that Karl was quietly humming. The man was probably trying to soothe Sapnap in the only way he could think of. He could probably feel how tense the fireborn was from where he was currently balled up underneath his tongue, and thought it might help.
Sapnap appreciated the sentiment, really, he did, but it didn't do much to calm his nerves. It only pointed out how small he was compared to his fiancé, that the mere act of humming could shake his body and rattle his bones in such a huge way.
The tongue on top of him suddenly drew back and dipped underneath his body, scooping him up on top of it and curling around his back and shoulders. He had to fight his instincts and not start heating up when everything tilted sideways, making Sapnap start to slide down, towards Karl's throat. He oh so desperately didn't want to burn Karl, even if it looked like his fiancé was going to eat him.
Something shifted, then Sapnap was sliding down even quicker until everything around him closed in, pressing thickly against him. This time, a whimper escaped as vertigo swirled through his head and a heavy 'glk' pounded through his ears. He didn't know if the dizziness was from the strange falling sensation, from his own fear, or from both.
It was all Sapnap could manage to stay quiet and not scream and fight, like his body was telling him to do. He just scrunched his eyes shut tighter and braced himself for the ride down.
ººººººººº
Karl rested a hand over where Sapnap was, thinking, before shaking his head. Sapnap had said that Quackity had come with him. Odds were, Quackity was also tiny, which meant Karl needed to find him before anything bad happened to the avian.
Hopefully Quackity had enough sense to stay quiet, to stay hidden. The time traveler sucked in a deep, slow breath, patted his stomach twice in an attempt to reassure Sapnap, then dropped his arms down to his sides and forced himself to walk.
He gave a small, acknowledging nod to the group of people as they rounded the corner, but otherwise ignored them. The people here thought he was a rich, traveling noble of some sort, and hadn’t really stopped him when he entered the manor to do his job. That was a benefit especially now, Karl supposed. It meant that less people would question him as he searched the place from walls to ceiling.
The building was huge. It'd take him forever to scour through it all, but he had to, in the hopes that he could find Quackity before he finished the Tale. Otherwise, his second fiancé would be lost to time.
He'd figured if he just wandered the manor's halls long enough, he'd eventually come across some sign of Quackity, like he had Sapnap, but he had been searching for literal hours. During this, Sapnap had been squirming around, and would ask Karl the occasional question. Karl answered him, of course he did, he wasn’t just going to ignore Sapnap, but it had gotten him a couple of concerned looks from passer-byers, when he muttered something seemingly in answer to himself. He’d had to ask Sapnap to be quiet, again, though he could tell the fireborn was getting restless.
It was only when he was debating whether or not he should start breaking into the locked rooms did he hear the distinct, familiar sound of screamed English and Spanish. Alarm flashed through Karl, and he rushed into the direction it was coming from as stealthily as he could.
He had learned enough Spanish from Quackity to know that the words weren’t anything nice, which probably meant trouble. There was only one man Karl knew that cussed that creatively, and the voice sounded so small, so distant, that the only one it could be was Quackity.
Karl finally rounded the corner and pulled up short, having nearly run into someone. Karl took a second to analyze the guy with wide, slightly panicked eyes. The man was about Karl's height, about eye to eye, even, but he was built. The other guy was shaped like a brick wall!
The yelling was coming from the man himself, and Karl had a horrible, sinking flash of thought that the guy had eaten his fiancé before his eyes finally settled on a screaming, wriggling lump in one of the man's jacket pockets.
The man followed the time-traveler’s gaze and grimaced, knowing that Karl knew he had something strange in his pocket. He gave Karl a weak smile, raising his hands disarmingly.
Karl’s face twisted up in both concern and anger, and he jabbed a finger towards the other man’s chest. “You better let him go,” he hissed, hazel eyes blazing.
The other man waved his hand disarmingly. “Hey, I don’t want any trouble,” he was saying, but Karl only had ears for the tiny shriek for help. It was Quackity, and he sounded terrified.
Karl’s body was moving before he realized, lunging forward and clawing his hands against the man's chest. His fingers caught fabric, and the pocket tore. There was a loud, tiny shriek as Karl’s momentum had everyone tumbling and crashing to the ground. Something small hit his shoulder, and Karl instinctively twisted on top of the man's chest to grab at what was a tiny, struggling body.
Karl didn't have time to explain anything to Quackity, so he just shoved the avian into his mouth and hurriedly rushed to swallow him.
Quackity got stuck in his throat for a brief, terrifying moment as his dry clothes and feathers caught against Karl's esophagus. Karl winced, resisting a cough and forcing another, heavier swallow. He probably should have slicked Quackity up first, but he didn't think he would have had enough time. Not when the unfamiliar man's hands were grasping tightly at his biceps and angrily heaving him to his feet.
°°°
Quackity couldn't see! Everything was moving so fast that he could barely process any of it. He could have sworn he'd heard Karl's voice, but he couldn't be sure. It might have been another doppelganger, or somebody who just sounded similar.
He’d screamed for help anyway, desperate to escape the clutches of the giant that had kidnapped him, and then everything had become more jumbled.
The pocket he’d been shoved into was ripped open, and then he was falling. He flared his wings, trying to catch air, but then something leathery and immeasurably strong closed firmly around his body, pinning his wings and arms and legs tightly together. He cried out, struggling to break free, and then the grip on his body disappeared.
He saw light for a brief, hopeful moment, but that hope was crushed and drained when he saw the lips and mouth and teeth and Oh Prime no pleaseplease nonono—
The teeth snapped shut around him as he tumbled inside, sealing him in damp, muggy darkness for a single, heart stopping moment before he was roughly shoved by something bigger, stronger, and squisher than himself. He shrieked, lunging back towards the sealed entrance, wings beating frantically against his surroundings, but then everything crushed around him, compressing against his body and forcing him back into a dizzying downward plunge.
Wet stickiness tugged painfully at his feathers and jerked at his clothes before the sensation was ripped away as he was shoved further down. Quackity couldn’t hold back the frightened squeal that crawled up from his throat, unable to even move as he was dragged down, down, down.
The crushing pressure finally released his body, and he tumbled into a larger space. He didn’t even have time to flare his wings before he smacked into something solid and boney. It yelped, hands grabbing at his shoulders. Quackity flinched back before he realized he knew that voice.
"S-Sap!?" He cried, dragging the other closer and practically climbing into the fireborn's lap. His wings brushed against something wet, and with a shudder, he drew them in, folding them tightly against his back. Hands were suddenly touching his wings, strong fingers weaving through the damp feathers at the base of his wings and pulling him tightly against a broad chest.
“Quackity!” Sapnap exclaimed, hugging the shorter man with trembling arms. “Oh thank fuck, you’re okay!” His voice shrill, but washed through with a wave of relief.
Quackity held back a piteous sob, burying his face into Sapnap's collar and squeezing the fireborn close for all he was worth. Sapnap's skin and clothes were soggy, and they clung against whatever they touched. Quackity tried his best to avoid thinking about why.
Quackity tried not to dwell on the fact that Sapnap was in here, with him. He tried to not dwell on the fact that Karl’s doppelganger had eaten them both.
Oh Prime, they were both going to die.
He dug his fingers into the other man's soggy clothes and sucked in a shuddering breath, squeezing his eyes shut as, despite his best efforts, hot tears began to bubble out over his cheeks.
Sapnap jolted, loosening his grip on Quackity just long enough to place his hands on the avian’s shoulders. The fireborn’s night vision was good enough that he could see that Quackity’s face was red and blotchy, and there were tears streaming down his face in thick trails.
Sapnap felt his heart break.
“Whoa, whoa, Q? Are you—aw, no, it's gonna be okay,” Sapnap pulled the avian back against his chest, placing one hand in between the base of his wings and reaching up with the other to dig his fingers into wet hair. He could feel the avian's back shuddering, and his wings were trembling with fright.
Quackity couldn't help the small, shuddering hiccups that bubbled up his throat and escaped from his lips. He thought that maybe he was in shock. His instincts were screaming at him to run, get away, but intellectually he knew that there wasn’t going to be an escape. There was no way out.
"We're going to die,” he whimpered, wings betraying his distress by flaring up and beating against the close-pressed walls. They jerked downwards just as quickly, bringing with them a thin, slick coating of warm slime.
“We’re not,” Sapnap exclaimed, shoulders stiffening. “We—it’s Karl. We’re in Karl. We’ll be okay.” He reassured, stroking his thumb against the avian’s back.
"I-In…Karl/ Karl?! Like, in…in his body? In his stomach?!" Quackity was panicking again. Sapnap breathed in deeply and tightened his grip on his fiancé. A new, frightening thought struck the shorter man, and his fingers curled tighter.
“It’s not a doppelganger, is it?” Quackity’s tone was weak, and his voice wavered.
“N-no. I'm sure he’s ours. He promised that it was safe.” Sapnap reassured. “Um. Before he…ate me.”,
Everything jolted suddenly, and the ridged flesh around them rippled and flexed as the body they were in moved. They could hear loud, angry words outside, sounding in turn with a softer, more familiar voice rumbling the space around them.
The entire world rocked, then jerked and jolted repeatedly. Between each rise and fall, Sapnap and Quackity were almost weightless before sloshing back down against the stomach floor.
Was Karl…running?
Eventually, everything settled, and a voice, Karl’s voice, breathless and faint, rumbled down to them, but it was too indistinct to make out.
A massive weight blanketed over both of their bodies, flattening the two between the slick layers of rippled flesh. Quackity let loose a small shriek, clamping his eyes closed and shoving his face into Sapnap's chest, while the fireborn only flinched, baring his sharpened fangs at the perceived opponent and tightened his grip around Quacity’s shoulders.
“K….Karl…? Is that—that's you?” Quackity called out, voice weak.
A deep rumble rolled through the space they were in as if in answer, and the weight against the outside shifted, jostling them both. Another heavy rumble rolled out, but neither of them could understand it.
Sapnap clutched Quackity tighter. “What…” He paused, sucking in a sharp breath, before hissing it out. “Do you…think he’s gonna let us out?”
Quackity felt himself turn a little paler at the notion that they might not be out, and rapidly hook his head against Sapnao’s chest. “I’m sure he will! We just have to…wait until it’s safe. I'm sure.”
Sapnap nodded slowly, biting at his lip.
“Yeah. Yeah, we just gotta wait. It’ll be fine.”
They would be fine. Karl would never hurt them, either of them. Sapnap trusted him. He just hoped that Quacky could hold on to that trust, too.
i have a fic vision where someone uses the line “ready to comply?” on Bucky when forcing him to eat a tiny and it’s eating me up so I just had to share. I imagine Bucky looks at them with the deepest hatred bc he cant do anything about it.
not sure which tiny would work best bc Steve, Sam, or any of the thunderbolts (although mainly Walker tbh) could all work really well
im not sure if this ask was intended to be a prompt or just an idea,,,, either way this idea WILL be getting done because I HAVE HAD THIS ON CONSTANT ROTATION IN MY MIND FOR WEEKS !!!!! i LOVE LOVE LOVE this idea so much im glad someone else shares it!!!
sam could work well....cough..cough.....i would LOVE to do walker though,,, but if bucky ever nommed walker i would want it to be in full consciousness--it's just bucky being an ass to john lmao
i could also see steve ! i'd love some kind of caws thing where steve just begrudgingly accepts it because he knows bucky is too far gone to recognize him,,,
^^ maybe bucky distantly knowing the taste of steve cause of 40s shenanigans :3
another idea i've had with winter soldier noms is, as a form of torture training hydra agents nom t!bucky over and over again for gradually lengthening periods of time to build up immunity to being nommed....poor guy
and hydra would cover it up and be like "what? we're training him! what if....he needs to plant a bomb in someone's stomach?" dsjvhsd
ANYWAY thanks for the ask and i WILL be writing something like this :3
uh...hi! my first official marvel g/t fic !!?!?,,., i never thought the day would come haha
buuuuut.,.,.,,, erm...enjoy? , ALSO fair warning this is my attempt at getting used to the characters, and also maybe start some new kind of au? or...just start something cause i'd love to use this account more!
OKAY OKAY enough yap,,, i think i wanna make an "everything is the same but tony is small" au and have each title be like "how to [two/three word summary]" but idk ! bear with me here
@i-am-beckyu @justarandomsloth @local-squishmallow I MADE IT!!!!!!
an unsuccessful guide to avoid burdening the local teenager: snow edition
cw: swearing, descriptions of hypothermia and corresponding symptoms (i.e. dizziness, slurred speech, etc.), internal dilemma: fear of burden, tony being a bitch
wc: 2552
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For being a borrower, Tony never really adhered to the typical rules. They were bullshit, anyway—seriously, take only what you need? Absolutely not, Humans have enough resources as-is, and what he needed four months ago was a computer system stronger than an old, dingy ipod he’d rewired. That had been his mistake, really, trying to steal a human computer that was just sitting out in the open. Not his best move—what even was his plan? To bring the computer into the walls with him? And then, what, the human wouldn’t notice the large, rectangular spot in the midst of his dusty desktop? Tony was intelligent, sure, but really, he was quite ego-driven sometimes. And what his ego told him at the time, was to grab that computer because he deserved better than that ipod. He (the borrower) deserved the (albeit human tailored) computer more than the (human) kid did.
He had been in the wrong, he can admit that now. He’s a new, changed man. That had been his mid-year resolution some season ago—after he met the kid on account of his own stupidity. The kid—Peter, it ended up being—did seem to mind Tony’s (attempted) theft, as upon opening his door, he flicked the light on and promptly froze in his tracks and gaped. And then it ended up being a whole thing where Peter screamed and then Tony screamed, and, to make a long story short, Tony ended up confined in a web. But, hey, four months later and now they’re buddy-buddy.
Turns out, Peter was some kind of self-made vigilante-superhero-guy. Though, not exactly self-made—the idiot went and got himself bit by a spider, but regardless of that, he pretty much built himself up from the bottom. Spiderman, he called himself. Tony still argues that Bugboy would benefit his image more, but Peter seemed to shoot that down even prior to justification.
When Peter had got to talking with Tony, especially after catching him attempting to take the computer, Peter’s attention caught on the fact that this little guy seemed to be quite in-tune with technology. So, Tony ended up being roped into helping Peter with all of his superhero stuff. He helped redesign his suit, helped get the meticulous stitches in the cloth and programmed some more safety protocols for him. It was a good use of his hands, even if he did voice his complaints quite often—especially on doing stitching for Peter. He was a mechanic, not a seamstress. Yet, Tony felt strangely obligated to comply regardless.
Anyway, this story has nothing to do with how he and Peter met. It was just worth it to reminisce about stuff like that when he was freezing his ass off. Like he said, he wasn’t a seamstress, he was a mechanic. He’d tried to build a heater one time, and he had, but the heat was a little too strong and he ended up sparking a…small fire in the walls of the house. That house didn’t make it. But, without that fire, he never would’ve met Peter!
He laughs to himself at the idea, a sort of amused snort leaving him while he drags a numb hand down his face, rubbing at it aggressively while mumbling to himself. He was sitting against the wall of his nook, his knees drawn up to his chin, arms tucked into the poor excuse of a shirt he’d made. It fit more like a cloak, but it was actually serving him quite well as he was able to fit his arms into it and at least curl in on himself a little more. He was never a fan of winter. The walls were too thin, and he wasn’t too keen on burning down the poor teenagers’ apartment so he refrained from building a heater in case something went askew. And, naturally, Tony would absolutely never ever reveal that he was cold. Peter had asked him a few times, offered to cut up an old blanket and spare the borrower a few squares as extra blankets or fabric for clothing. But Tony wasn’t going to take that, he didn’t want to look desperate. He’d been living by himself a lot longer than Peter had even been alive, so he wasn’t accepting pity…he didn’t want to be taken care of by a human.
Tony shivers, groaning, throwing his head back against the wall and hitting it a few times. Stupid, stupid weather. Stupid Peter—-he can’t believe he got attached enough to a human to care whether or not his house burned down. Tony shivers again, then again. He stills his jaw as it attempts to chatter, meanwhile he tugs his limbs closer to himself and grumbles. His fingertips are numb, and following suit are his toes, ears and nose. He’s sure he’s a half hour away from his skin blushing blue. Winters are usually never this brutal. Why doesn’t Peter have the heat on in the apartment is the real question, and he sure has the intelligence to venture out and turn it on himself, but the heaviness of his limbs and the fog in his mind are kind of being a stubborn bitch right now.
In the thick shadows of Tony’s nook in the walls, a bright light appearing from the human phone in his room poses as a relieving distraction to Tony’s brooding hour. Peter’s name flashes across the screen. Engaging in a video call with Peter Parker was about the last thing he wanted to do—but the kid was out patrolling right now, and for all Tony knew, he could need help with his suit. So, with all the strength he could muster in his wintry muscles, he (perhaps a bit overly) dramatically pulled forward until he collapsed on the floor next to the phone. His arm felt like pins and needles and like it was encased in some thick liquid all at once as he raised it up and tapped at the green answer button. The call connects immediately, and the tinny whines and whistles of the wind coming from Peter’s end makes his head spin even more. He grumbles into the phone.
“Tony?” he asks, and Tony can briefly see his suit’s mask close up to the phone, and the blurs of New York City that he’d only ever seen on calls like this.
Tony grumbles again, trying to sit up so he can move closer to the speaker, but his arm quivers and he falls back down. So, he settles on snarking out, “What?”
Peter’s end is muffled and loud—chaotic. A stark contrast to the dark and sullen tones of the walls. “Hey, hey buddy. How’s it going? Where you at?” He pauses, his face getting a little closer to the camera. Tony groans. “Is it, like, really dark in there? Why–why aren’t you out in the apartment? I told you—”
Tony cuts Peter off, “yeah, yeah, s’great, kid. You havin’ issues with your suit—that why you called?” Peter’s masked face returns to the camera, a few frames too close. The camera goes out-of-focus while he starts talking again, voice choppy and slightly pixelated.
“Huh? No, no, I'm calling to tell you to stop whatever you’re working on. I have a surprise for you, I think you'll like it,” Peter explains, emitting a few panting breaths as he very obviously works his way through the city on his webs. “I’m about five—four blocks—now three, uh—two—ah, well I’m here now.” The loud whipping of wind dies to a few minute shuffles, and when Peter lands back into the apartment, the light from Peter’s end of the phone is suddenly illuminating Tony’s small nook. “C’mon out here,” he says before the screen flashes back to the homescreen. His nook is once again encased in a shadow reminiscent of winter’s hold on him.
Tony runs his tongue along his top row of teeth, his dull canines scraping against his tongue while he thinks. Peter would find out, lest Tony leaves the walls. If he didn’t, the kid would probably assume something was wrong anyway. Despite himself, he couldn’t find a way out of this. Every angle seemed to dispense him into inconvenient and vulnerable positions.
There’s a knock on the walls. Peter was home—already? Oh, yeah, the phone call. Tony would startle, if he could, but all that comes of the unexpected company is his heart skipping a beat.
“Tony?”
“Yeah, yeah—” he mumbles, “I’m comin’, kid.” Under normal circumstances, his volume or lack thereof would have been inaudible. But, courtesy of Peter’s insect-ness, he heard. Tony’s not sure if he’s grateful for that or not.
“Hey, man, I, uh, I told you it’s okay to go out in the apartment. Even if I’m not here—-it’s, like, no biggie. You live here too. Anyway, just, uh, come out when you wanna. I guess it was a little unprompted to call you. But, also, like—I do have something to show you. It’ll be there tomorrow, though, too, so—”
Children. “‘m comin’.” His voice was sharp for his slurred speech, sharper than it normally was with Peter. He didn’t care much for being harsh, especially knowing Peter had a significant lack of paternal affection in his life. But, he was cold. He was cold, about to pass out, and the last thing he wanted to do was entertain Peter in his perpetual rambling.
Peter didn’t say another word after that. Bathing in silence, Tony thought maybe the kid stepped down. There was a soft shuffle, and Tony was reminded again about Peter’s home life. Children.
His limbs are thick, like he’s suspended in a glue trap or one of those…oh, what’s it called? Podding? Putt…ugh, whatever, cups Peter sometimes is munching on. As he moves, his limbs throb. Flexing his fingers is almost futile; the contents within the digits make his skin feel tight. Tony barely makes it up before he’s stumbling, tripping over his numb, useless pins-and-needle-burdened, incapacitated legs. He catches himself before he falls on the ground, his arms grabbing pitifully at whatever he could reach. Weight supported by the homemade shelves he had, he continues stumbling. With a grunt, Tony’s weight shifts onto the dusty interior walls of Peter’s, and he slides along the drywall. At least with his attempted walking, his legs faintly throb, attempting to restore even a wink of feeling. He moves a little faster, and a little faster, until he reaches the opening in the wall. As he staggers closer, the light grows, and little by little, heat returns. It was faint. Peter had only now just turned the heat on, but he could feel it. Maybe he was convincing himself he felt it—some kind of placebo to coax him out of the walls so he could get to Peter. His hands shake, tremble against the wall. He sighs, a slow, shaky sigh that lasts all the way until the opening in the wall. It was really warm. It felt nice.
The light from Peter’s apartment, when not studied from the sidelines, was nearly blinding to Tony. He’d been so accustomed to the darkness of the walls, especially after the battery in his lights had died, that being out in the open made him wince. He holds the shaky, heavy back of his hand to shield his eyes and groans. “...kid?” he asks.
That was the last thing he said before he promptly toppled over, landing on Peter’s kitchen counters with a little oomph.
Tony woke up warm. Not warm like before, where it had started in his toes and slowly absorbed him until he’d collapsed. This time, it was an external warmth, one which came from all around him, something akin to being in a heated … dome sort of thing. It was a nice contrast to the conditions he’d endured hours before Peter came home, alone and freezing. In his half-conscious mind, Tony has the rare ability to display vulnerability and grumble something while curling a little tighter in on himself. He was still waking up, blinking blearily as he yawned and adjusted a few times.
It took the floor moving minutely for his thoughts to return to him, for his vision to supply him with the tan folds of Peter’s palms. Tony rolls onto his back, groaning, blinking, coughing.
Looking down on him, the borrower realizes, is Peter, the boy’s youth-softened features squinted with concern as he keeps a watchful eye on Tony. He was half-aware of what had happened. However, the shame of having to be cared for by a human, let alone a human kid, that he was acutely aware of.
“You…gonna stare at me like..I just lost m’head?” he mumbles, his voice still a bit slow—laggy, almost. “The deer…in headlights look’s’not a good…good look for ‘ya, kid.” His wit—Tony’s one asset to disguise fragility—still held, and strong at that.
“Did…did I do something to give off the impression that you weren’t allowed around my things? I—I mean, I know it’s in your nature, trust me, I know instinct, but—I just, I thought we were past the whole…scaredy cat thing. No offense.”
Tony frowns. He was just waking up and he was hit hard with his weak spot: vulnerability. He lifts a hand to his face, his arm still practically a foreign limb with how heavy and numb it felt. It was still vaguely tingly. The pointer and thumb of his raised hand clench his temple, rubbing at it while he wrinkles his nose in discomfort while he awkwardly tries to pull himself up. In the end, he tried to play off the struggle by just raising to his elbows. They shook.
“Can’t we leave the sappy chats for a time where I’m not being nursed by a human child?” he deflects, ignoring the way his limbs were just so, infuriatingly weak. His body just begged to lay down, curl back up in the kid’s hand and just…sleep this off. His mind was jumping off the walls at the notion of getting up and setting his ass back down in his nook where he was alone and able to collect himself. That being said, he also didn’t like seeing Peter’s face, didn’t like seeing his features wasted on being concerned for a guy like Tony. Tiny, insignificant—
“Hey, it happens to the best of us, Ton’s, no shame in being nursed. That’s why hospitals and stuff were made.” Had he the energy, Tony would’ve snorted—sorted both at his endearing attempt at reassurance and his stupid, stupid, hospitality. “Your inspirational aphorisms need some work, kid,” he responds, laying an elbow dramatically over his face. Fighting being cradled by Peter’s palm has been (temporarily) placed on the backburner, as he lay still instead, trying to pull himself back together, haul his body out of the icebox and scoop his soul back into it. “I am serious, though,” he adds, peeking out from under his elbow to the kid still studying him, “no sappy talk. No lectures.” He covers his face back up to avoid Peter’s look—the saddened eyes and tight-with-worry lips. He, cowardly, shrouds himself from the super-teenager who took time out of his not-so-little life to care for Tony, the borrower. He covers his eyes, so that all he can get out of the prolonging he’d so urged, is a small, “okay,” from Peter.
Phil just bought a sea side home with a bay nearby. He goes surfing there sometimes and one of those times he gets pushed out into the sea by a riptide. He’s trying not to panic bc “okay, I can.. probably swim that far back to shore. It’s been a while since I’ve tried to swim long distances but I prob still got it” when he feels the current underneath him *move.*
Techno is just out for a swim when he sees a stranded human n is like “huh, weird,” and promptly decides to help the dude back to shore by trying to move the currents with his tail so the human will be pushed back to the shore. Uhhh, kinda backfires bc ooops that was too much power n now the human was swamped by the wave he created.
Phil gets pulled under the water and freaks the fuck out when he sees a giant shadow in the distance that’s *getting closer* and oh god is that *a fucking mer?*
Mers are pretty well known, but they’re not proven to be intelligent (they are, obv). People are told to stay away bc mers can be pretty violent when stressed. Basically, humans treat mers like normal wild sea animals. Watch and keep out of their way. If they get close, try not to panic.
Phil, obviously, is trying but sorta failing bc “*wow,* mers are a lot bigger in person.” He’s on the brink of loosing the last of his breath when Techno cups his hands around Phil and brings them out of the water. Phil coughs out the little bit of water in his lungs as Techno brings him back to shore. When he’s placed on it, he tries to say ‘thank you’ to Techno but only gets a glance before the mer leaves.
-
The next time they meet, Phil is on a boat just enjoying the view when he notices something move under the water. He leans over to try and see, and is greeted by a familiar flash of pink hair/rust-coloured scales. Deciding to be a adventurous fool, he ends up tying a rope to himself and the boat before seating himself at a ledge where he can dip his legs into the water.
He calls out for the mer & kinda starts to just ramble, not really expecting anything from the mer. He’s surprised when a melodious hum rumbles from the sea and into his bones, which leaves him with his jaw hanging just above the water line. A second later, pink hair floats around his boat, coloring the blue sea into something more purple-pinkish. It’s daunting but also sparks something within Phil.
He peers a little more into the water to see what he thinks is a face. Phil is dumbfounded, and ends up stammering out something like “h-hi mate. Didn’t expect you to- [nervous laughter]- y’know, come up here. Am I bothering you that much?” He’s pretty sure he just saw the mer’s red- *red-* eyes blink slowly at him like a *cat.* “I’ll.. take that.. as a no..?” Phil ends up rambling a little longer after the initial surprise wears out. Techno is just pleased to hear Phil ramble on bc having a companion- even if they’re human- is kinda nice.
-
Probably a few scenes pass by with them just meeting up n Phil rambling.
-
It’s one of these times that Phil ends up willingly going into the water bc “well, I’m already right here, what’s the difference?” Uh. It’s a pretty big difference, actually. Mostly for Phil bc he’s hit with the revelation of how fucking *huge* Techno is again. Techno is just like “human, what the fuck are you doing, get back on the boat before you die somehow” and lifts his hands up to try and scoop them back onto their boat. Phil freaks out and clings onto the boat as Techno pauses and lets out an apologetic noise (Phil only recognizes this bc he’s been watching so many videos on mers now).
Also, bc I haven’t mentioned this just yet, Techno can understand Phil but can’t speak English. Phil can only vaguely understand Techno’s noises and body language.
Techno moves his hands away, and Phil drops back under the water. He’s entranced by Techno’s appearance bc it’s so human-like but *not.* Techno, in turn, also is staring at Phil bc he’s reeling at how small and mer-like *Phil* is. (Phil is able to stay under bc he put on a air tank. He rich enough to have this shit now <3) Techno ends up drifting closer, and Phil kinda snaps out of it when he realizes that. He kinda pulls himself out bc nervous jitters nd Techno pulls back too.
Phil goes back up and goes back to rambling.
-
And now NOMS bc I am a hoe for that stuff. Maybe a really bad storm was approaching, and Techno could sense it. He didn’t want Phil to get swept up in it, so he ends up purposely pulling himself onto the beach and calling out for Phil. Phil comes, worried ‘cause he thinks Techno is hurt, and immediately gets a flash of sharp teeth as he comes up to Techno’s face. He’s shoved into the mer’s mouth, assaulted by their soaking wet tongue, and shoved into Techno’s throat. Clearly, he’s fucking terrified, screaming and thrashing around until he reaches a glowing blue stomach (brooding pouch). The muscles around him squeeze into a warm, fleshy hug. He can barely process anything except his panic and the intrusive stomach walls.
Techno feels incredibly bad, but pushes himself back into the sea right as it starts to heavily pour. A low, rumbling hum escapes from his throat as he tries to calm down Phil. The sound is supposed to be a reassuring noise for little mers, and it shakes through Phil’s bones, creating a similar affect of relaxing the body instinctively. Phil can’t exactly panic when his entire body feels like jello. He tries but it’s overpowered by Techno’s thrumming purr.
Meanwhile, Phil drifts from a state of panic and being relaxed. He knows he should be panicked but he can’t bring himself to be. After a little bit, short, apologetic chirps intermittently slip between the purrs. Phil stays in this limbo of sometimes passing out from the sheer power of the soothing purr for around several hours before he finally gets spat out.
// was intended to end in vore. never got to write that
// 11k words and none of it was vore
“Hail, healer.”
Squidkid snaps out of his thoughts, glancing up to the shipmate in front of him. He’s not really sure what role they have. He doesn’t travel the sea enough to know. He’s just here to reach the next city over, and the crew allowed him to join them as long as he helped the sick and injured. The only time they interact with each other is for food and for business. He’s not worth much for anything else.
“Hello,” he dusts his pants, getting up, “what do you need?”
“Injury. Come help,” they grunt, turning.
He follows quietly, not asking for details just yet. They won’t speak to him. He already knows that, so he lets his mind wander. As usual it comes up blank, any thoughts exhausted after the first day of travel. There’s not much to do on this cargo ship. It’s one of the boring ones— only because the crew barely trusts him into their ranks. That’s fine. He’ll be gone in due time, and they’ll be a few gold pieces richer for that. It still doesn’t stop the boredom, unfortunately.
Ducking through the doorway, he steps in front of the crew mate currently looking like they’re holding back a scream as they cradle their arm against their chest. “What caused it?”
“Fell on it. Floor was slippery ‘cause John didn’t clean it up correctly,” they wheeze.
He nods, kneeling down in front of them. Their shoulders are obviously dislocated, which he can’t help but be grateful for. At least it isn’t broken.
He turns towards the cremate that led him there, nodding towards a rag with a tilt of his head. “Grab a rag for them to bite, and help me lay them on the table. Face up.”
The injured man grunts, moving on their own before he can object. “I can do it myself.”
He just sighs as the rag is shoved into the sailor's mouth. Reaching out and closing his eyes, he drew out a familiar warmth within him. When he opens his eyes, his hands are glowing. He knows that his eyes are glowing too.
“On three, I’m gonna pull,” carefully grabbing the dislocated arm and positioning it at a right angle, he slowly pulls on it, “one.. two—“ He pulls, hearing the pained grunt his patient obviously tries to hold back and a sudden sound of the shoulder repositioning itself back to normal. Their shoulder glows a bright blue as he pushes some of his power to relieve the pain and heals them, fading when he lets go of them.
He staggers back, grimacing and shaking his head to ignore the wary glances coming from the two sailors. Pushing down the spinning headache that’s starting to grow, he turns away. “Take a day off to let it settle. I’m going to take a nap.”
Staggering out of the room, he coughs. Maybe he should get some water first. Yeah. That would be good. He drags one foot after the other, trailing up the stairs to get to the upper deck. He scrunches his nose at the bright sky.
Why did they have to put the kitchen on the other side of the ship? He had no idea. At least he could look out at the sea. He may not be a sailor, but even he felt the cumbersome tug of wanderlust for the ocean’s deep secrets. It’s no wonder they braved through the tough lifestyle just to chase that love.
He, on the other hand, was quite content with living on *solid* ground, thank you very much.
Tearing his gaze from the hypnotic waves with a shake of his head, he barely registered the dark clouds in the far distance as he rushed to the kitchens with sharp breaths.
He really needed a nap.
——
//////
——
Squidkid wakes up to shouting and a faceful of water splashing in his face.
Neither being a good thing. Obviously.
Startling to his feet with a heavy cough, his eyes widen as his socks are soaked immediately. The floor was covered by at least an inch of *water.* He had to be in a nightmare.
He springs up, running out to the deck to see what the hell was going on. A sailor stops him on the way. “We’ve been grounded.”
“G— Grounded?”
“Fuckin— damn landlubbers— something hit the bottom of our ship,” they clarify with quick breaths. He ignores their insult, furrowing his eyebrows. They’re in the middle of the open ocean. How the hell did something scrape the bottom of their ship?
“How is that even poss—“ he’s interrupted by a heavy rock of the ship, stumbling into a wall. His eyes widen when he hears a scream— an *inhuman* scream that feels like it’s going to split his eardrums. “What in Prime’s sake was that?”
The sailor curses, pushing themselves up. “Go find out for yourself. I gotta go get the cannons.” He doesn’t get the chance to open his mouth before the sailor runs off. What the *hell?* Leaning against the wall, he warily makes his way to the deck and freezes. When the sailor said to look for himself, he didn’t expect to see a tentacle bigger than the ship’s mast.
Because, oh *gods,* the ship was attacked by a sea beast. That’s the only thing that could possibly be that big. He shouts, just barely dodging a tumbling barrel while grabbing onto the nearest, stable rail. Oh god— oh god— why did it have to be this ship? He should’ve just taken the earliest passenger ship even if it was due a week later. Maybe then he’d survive. But, now, he was just waiting for a blunt hit in the head by a rogue barrel to end his pitiful life. Or, even worse, drowning.
A shout brings him out of his thoughts, and he glances up to see that— *oh,* they— they had a lifeboat. He— he needs to get to that life boat before they leave. It’s his only chance—
But—
He shakes as he stares at the deathly obstacle course in front of him. There’s loose barrels rolling around, ropes flailing around just waiting to hit him in the face, and, of course, the sea beasts red tentacles squeezing the ship into splinters.
He… he couldn’t make it through that. No way in hell. If he stays here, he’ll die. If he goes, he’ll die from something else. It’s a no win situation. But— he should *try,* right?
A shout rips from his throat as the railing he’s holding onto breaks off slightly, leaving him dangling off of the ship. “Oh shit— oh *shit—“* he yelps, legs scrambling to get any sort of perch to stand on.
The wood only cracks further at his movement, and he freezes. His only chance of safety was ripped away. He won’t even be able to try and get over to the lifeboat now that he’s dangling in the air. Glancing over at the lifeboat, he screams, “HELP! Please, help!”
None of the sailors even look at him.
They don’t hear. *They don’t hear him.* Oh gods, he’s so fucked, “HELP! ANYONE, PLEASE—“ a cough rips from his already hoarse throat, and he’s sent into a coughing fit from how not used to screaming he is.
He can barely shout when the railing finally breaks with a loud crack, and he crashes into the murky water still holding onto the now useless piece of wood. The water rushes up to his face, attacking him with shoves and pushes. His breath escapes into little bubbles, and he tries to swim.
He’s never been a good swimmer but somehow, he finds himself at the surface of the water for a second. He doesn’t waste that second, taking as much air as he can before he’s submerged into the sea’s rage.
He’s heard of the never ending battle between the sea and a stranded human in stories. It’s useless to fight. He won’t win. He knows that. It still doesn’t stop him from trying. The instinct to live still beats in his heart, and he’ll be damned to let go of that hope. His head bobs above and under the water, like he’s a buoy, and the only thing that’s helping him is the driftwood he’s been holding onto since the beginning. It’s what sent him into this waterboarding hell, and he’ll be damned if it’s not the thing that keeps him afloat.
He doesn’t know where the sea is taking him, but, at one point, he thinks he can see the lifeboat. He’s not sure because the next second he’s under the water, and he sees the sea beasts tentacles shoot towards something. He’s just glad that it wasn’t towards *him.* He must be too small and insignificant for the beast’s hungry jaws.
Good. That’s.. good. He doubts he’d have enough power to fight back even with his normal strength. He’s already exhausting himself right now. Everything feels sluggish. Gasping for air, he coughs, clinging to the driftwood that’s keeping him up. His grip feels weaker. It is weaker. He— he’s losing his adrenaline rush. A whimper dares to try and escape him, but he doesn’t let it. That would be a waste of air. Pressing his face against the soaked, cold wood, he paddles his legs to stay near the surface of water. Even still, he can feel himself get pushed further under. He’s slowly losing the battle. His mouth opens instinctively for air, and he chokes on the water that rushes in.
Who knew his life would end in the sea?
The last thing he sees before he passes out is a streak of pink and the sound of haunting cries.
——
//////
——
The floor beneath him is blurred, freckled blue splotches glowing underneath his hands. It’s a pretty sight, and one that won’t be remembered once his eyes close once more. It’s hard to focus in his half-conscious state, and he lurches over, coughing up water. It spills onto his clothes.
His body— or is it his surroundings? It’s hard to tell— rocks back and forth like a little dinghy in mild waters. He feels damp, even more so than he probably should be despite throwing up saltwater all over himself, and he slumps over on his side, eyes fluttering shut once more.
Strangely though, he hears a low whistle before he fades out.
——
//////
——
Surprisingly, Squidkid wakes up.
He doesn’t expect that. Nor does he expect his first actions to be immediately throwing up on the sand next to him.
The… wait. The sand?
“What the—“ his breath hitches as he stops himself from going into a dry coughing fit. He’s… he’s on *land.*
He’s on a beach. Somehow, he was lead to a fucking beach. He’s somehow survived. Urging himself to his feet, he wavers and drops back down with a wheeze. Shit. He’s so weak. He falls to his side, yelping when something crinkles under his weight. Pushing himself at least to his hands and knees, he blinks in surprise when… he sees a bottle of… water.
…What?
He hesitantly picks it up, glancing up to scan the rest of the beach. Surprisingly enough, there’s a small crate of.. supplies. Did… *oh,* did a bit of the cargo ship’s crates fall into the same current as him? That must have been what happened, right?
He doesn’t really know, but he’s not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Uncorking the bottle, he barely stops himself from choking down the water. It’s obviously a little dirtied but it’s *drinkable.*
He chugs a third of the water before forcing himself to stop. He’s weak and shoving a bottle full of water down his throat probably isn’t a good idea.
Instead, he takes careful sips, even if it’s still a tad too fast of a pace. Once he finishes, he drops it back onto the sand. He’d feel bad for discarding the plastic bottle if he wasn’t half delirious, but he’s still thirsty. It’s ironic that he’s starving for the very same thing that almost killed him.
Not that he gives two shits right now.
Shakily, he crawls his way over to the open crate, grabbing another bottle and taking a few more small swigs. Only then does he stop. Even while half dead, he knows that it’s not good to drink so much so fast right after what just happened to him. Corking the bottle, he grimaces as his stomach already whines at the water. Gods, he’s already tired after moving for such a little time.
He, presumably, was the only survivor on that cargo ship. The rest might have died on that lifeboat if he really did see the sea beasts tentacles reach for something above the surface. He shivers. Gods, he really rather not ever have to see those tentacles reach up from the abyss ever again— no less, ever see them reach for *him.* While not overly religious, despite being a healer, he still prays for those men and women’s souls. May they not have been swallowed whole into the dark creatures gullet. The thought tears another full body shudder out of him. Terrifying, to be alive while that happens. It would give any sane person nightmares to think about that for too long.
And he might get nightmares of that too if he keeps thinking about it, so he shakes his head. And again, when it doesn’t help. He still feels nauseatingly dizzy, and he falls back to his side as a headache hits him.
Maybe… Maybe another nap wouldn’t hurt.
——
//////
——
The next time he wakes up, he feels better. Not by a lot, no, he still has an aching headache but he’s able to push himself to at least sit on his knees. When he first awoke, it was almost noon, but now it was dusk. Which.. meant that he was at sea for almost half a night, right? No… that wasn’t possible. He’d… He would die if that were to happen, right?
…His headache must be fucking with his sense of time.
Pressing a hand to his temples, he gently massages the area with a grimace before shifting his attention away from his thoughts to the supplies around him. Right. He needed to set up a base, first things first.
He scavenges through the crate. Luckily enough, there seems to be a decent amount of food in there, and more water bottles too. A soaked blanket too— that was seemingly put there to cushion the supplies.
That’s good. He can use that to carry as much supplies as he can to a safer location. There are trees lining the inside of the beach. He can nestle somewhere there. Maybe not too close to the beach, lest he want the cold night breeze to freeze him. The land from this angle doesn’t… seem to have much height in terms of hills. It must stretch on for a long while. He’d have to explore later.
Deciding to test his luck, he slowly shifts his weight, shakily getting to his feet. Thankfully, he has a lot more motor control over his own body this time around. Leaning down, yelping when his back cracks, he pushes a decent amount of both water and food packages onto the wet blanket before pulling at the corners and making a makeshift bag. It’s the best he’s got for now, so he slings it onto his back and starts walking towards the trees.
He won’t bring it with him all the way while exploring, but he’ll definitely bring it a tad closer to the treeline. Hopefully no animals will get to it before he comes back.
——
//////
——
He figures out that the land he’d been graciously tossed onto by the gods was only an island. It takes him an hour to stop hyperventilating. He has no idea how to survive alone on an island. The gods sure do have a strange show of mercy to him. Maybe he should’ve prayed more when he still had access to a temple.
He does not cry. Not when every resource is precious to him.
——
//////
——
He finds a good place to settle down. The island isn’t small, but it’s not big either. From what he can estimate, the spot is roughly in the middle of the entire land.
There are two trees, almost intertwined in each other. It looked as if it came from a storybook. He snorts softly as he drops his blanket full of supplies next to the trees. It sure doesn’t feel like a storybook. He still feels like absolutely shit, his dirty hair and clothes clinging to his face. He’s pretty sure there’s sand stuck in between his toes and under his fingernails. And a few other places.
He grimaces, forcing himself into the present again. It’s almost dark. He should set up at least a place he can sleep. From what he could tell, there were no animals that he should be worried about besides the birds and too big lizards. That’s probably a good thing. His first step is getting a small fire set up, and then he moves to setting up his ‘sleeping arrangement.’ The blanket is big enough where he can keep the small amount of supplies wrapped up while laying down on the unoccupied blanket.
As he closes his eyes, he can’t help but relax as he feels the familiar warmth of magic pushing him to rest. He’s not conscious enough to process where the magic is coming from.
——
//////
——
Strangely enough, every time he visits the beach, there’s a crate waiting for him. He’s fairly certain that the current just guides everything to this certain beach and that this is just his shipwreck’s cargo slowly making its way over to this beach.
He still hasn’t set up some kind of signal to show he’s here but it’s hard to think about that when he’s too busy gathering supplies and sleeping. He’ll have to get around with doing that sooner than later. Maybe he can start looking for stuff to set up tomorrow.
Wood planks might work, but it might also blend in. He could try using the crates since they were bulky, but most were too big for him to carry. Maybe something outlandish enough that a ship would stop to look? He’s not entirely sure what to do, since he’s never been taught what to do if stranded. For all he knows, this island could be completely out of any ship’s course. He really, *really* hopes not. Living on an island, all alone with no experience doesn’t sound like a good life. Or a long life.
For now, he pretends that he knows exactly what to do as he slowly makes his way to the beach, his blanket neatly folded up in his arms so he can gather more of the same supplies that stop him from perishing of stupidity.
It’s easier to drag supplies around with his blanket, seeing that he has very little muscle strength. He never had to build it up, seeing that he practiced *magic.* But, right now, he kind of wished he did.
Glancing up boredly as he nears the beach he’s gotten so familiar with, he freezes.
Any thought processes running its way through his head halted as he stopped behind the tree line. His breath hitched as he darted behind a tree, a million things spinning by his head as he tried to process the thing in front of him.
It’s a giant creature. A giant creature with pink fucking hair. And a human body linked with some kind of fish body.
It was a *mer.*
He peeks from behind the thin bark he’s hidden behind, if only to make sure he didn’t just hallucinate an entire mer, but sure enough, it’s still there.
His eyes drift over to their tail, and he’s surprised to see that it looks nothing like the drawings of mer that he’s seen. Instead of a fish tail, the tan of the mer’s human skin bleeds into a deep brown that fans out into a flat circle-like structure. Instead of fins at the base of a long thin tail, it spreads out immediately from the mer’s human-looking torso before abruptly thinning out into a long line. The shape reminds him of an underwater creature he’s only seen among the warm tempered seabeds. Those creatures hid among the sandy floors and were usually dull colored to camouflage with the sand, but this creature— this *mer* was proudly splayed out on the littered beach.
It looks as if it was just taking a little catnap or something; maybe it was sunbathing— Primes know that the beach almost always had sunlight on it despite the tall trees surrounding it.
He gulps nervously. He doubts he’s going to be able to get any supplies today. Not unless he wants to risk an arm. Or his entire life, really.
Mers were not known for their passivity, and they were absolutely not known for any sort of kindness. They quite liked to be left alone, last he checked, and he did not want to mess with this one. It took a group of expert magic users to even injure one mer, and he was just one adept user, that was only an expert in healing.
He takes a step back, eyeing the trees behind him with something yearning, and he does a full on shudder when his foot cracks a stick underneath it.
Oh Primes, he hopes the mer doesn’t have sensitive hearing.
Glancing back, he freezes as the mer starts to move to look over in his direction. That’s all the motivation he needs to book it out of there.
——
//////
——
He’s not happy to admit it… but he has to go back to that beach.
He has no idea how to actually survive on an island, and most of his supplies came from it.
Actually, how would he set up a signal if there was a mer? His plans on creating a signal for other ships have to be put on hold. He’s not sure if the mer would even allow for him to *make* a help sign. They might just tear it down. Or they might not, and just prey on the unlucky ship that comes to save him.
…Yeah. He shouldn’t put up a signal. Not until he figured out the mer issue.
He’s stuck. Cornered. Like prey.
There is no way for the mer to reach him, but sooner or later he has to go crawling back to the beach. He’ll be weakened. Easy to snatch up.
The sea really seems to want to claim him as her own.
He’s not sure what to think about that, too busy trying to build up the courage to force himself back to the beach. He’s already made it to the tree lines, but he can’t still his pounding heart for even a second.
He tries to reason with himself— if he runs in and gets some supplies, then he won’t be totally weakened prey.
Besides, the mer isn’t even on the beach, and there’s a crate a bit farther away from the water that he can bolt to.
He just has to move his stupid fucking legs.
Despite his legs feeling stiffer than the toughest bark, he takes baby steps towards the crate farthest from the waters, creeping along the edge of the beach until he has to step onto the rough sand.
Every time the water washes a little too harshly against the sandy beach, he skitters back, leaving his supplies out in the open. It takes him ages to go back to pulling out supplies, but he manages to pull enough supplies onto his blanket.
Despite being out for an hour, during the time he saw that mer, they don’t reappear. He’s relieved, to say the least. Maybe that mer was a one time thing? He hopes it was a one time thing, because he might just have a mental breakdown if it’s not.
Still, he should be careful. The mer might come back when he’s unaware.
He wraps his blanket around the cans of food and water, hoisting it up onto one of his shoulders. It hurts a little, but he’s gotten used to it by now.
He glances at the water lapping at the sand one last time, breath stilling as if he expects the mer to jump out and scare him.
The dribbling water sinks back into the sea slowly.
He sighs and turns away.
*Too focused on the water near him, he doesn’t notice the head peeking from the water disappear back into the deep ocean.*
——
//////
——
It’s been a while since he first saw the mer. He’s come back to the beach multiple times after that, sometimes just to sit there. It’s nice. Peaceful. Something to just… make him forget that he’s stranded.
It’s also… strange. Once he focuses, he can feel the thrum of magic that’s practically infused into the sandy beach. For some reason, this island has a tie to magic. He doesn’t know how the island came to have so much magical potential, but some part of it brings peace to his mind so he can’t bring himself to wonder.
He never stays long though, the paranoia that the mer might sneak up on him is too much for him to ignore. Today, though, he’s pushing his limit just a little. The water is relaxingly lapping at the edge of the beach, and the sky is clear with the sun out and shining. He doesn’t exactly want to leave just yet.
If anything, he starts to focus more on the magic around him. It's been a while since he’s practiced his magic, and being constantly surrounded by it just makes him itch to release some of his own pent up magic.
He takes a deep breath in, closing his eyes against his better judgment and lets himself sink.
The amount of magic is overwhelming, once he focuses on it. Every breath he takes in is infused with a jarring amount of thick magic; it hangs around this island like a thick fog in the dawn. If he was a weaker magic user, he might’ve drowned from how the magic crashes into him.
It was crushing, but in the same breath it was like swimming in fluffy clouds. He felt like he was floating with how his magic sang amongst the magic floating around him. He kind of wants to touch it.
He barely felt himself move his own limbs to channel the magic within him. It gathered at his fingertips, the magic purring around him and practically begging him to use it and channel it into something with potential. He breaths in, and—
A magic sensation crackles throughout him— different from the fog-like magic around him, leaving him paralyzed for a moment. Wh— what was *that—?*
His eyes fly open, and the cloudy magic he holds snaps. His question is answered when— when the mer from before breaches the surface of the water to lay right in *front* of him.
*Shit.*
He should’ve fucking left the beach, but, no, he just had to stay for a few more minutes. And now the mer is right fucking there, right in front of him— just laying on the beach with their mouth right *there—* and he’s going to *die—*
But…
It….
The.. mer is just staring at him. Not.. doing anything despite his tiny figure frozen from backpedaling away from their mouth (that’s so *close. Too* close—). Their blood red eyes lazily bore into his as if they didn’t just give him the biggest heart attack ever— as if they weren’t going to drag him into the depths of the sea— because that’s what it’s supposed to be doing to him right now if any of the sea shanties he’s heard on ships have an inkling of truth in them.
He doesn’t even realize he’s stopped breathing until he feels his lungs burn, and he has to take a shuddering breath in, hoping the mer hasn’t attacked just because he’s still. Thankfully, they don’t move as he sucks air into his body, so that theory is out of the picture. They’re just… stuck in a standstill, staring at each other. Not that he’s complaining, even if it feels like the mer is scrutinizing his very existence.
Maybe they want to see if he’s big enough to eat. Jokes on them, he can feel his skin hug his ribs from malnutrition. Being stuck on a fucking island with little survival skills does that to a person. He doubts he’d be surviving so long if it wasn’t for the beach’s weird tendency to have supplies scattered around on it.
The mer leans forwards, and his breath slacks. They sniff at him— *sniff* at him, what— before making a strange noise and moving back. Did he smell bad or something? Wh—?
They snort something in their language of chirps and whistles before— before they back off into the sea.
Were they leaving?
He shifts backwards only to freeze again as they glance back at him and hiss something to him. Despite not speaking the slightest bit of mer, he understands their command clearly. They *really* don’t want him leaving so quickly. He gulps.
They watch him for a moment longer before slowly turning their gaze away to do… something.
He immediately scrambles back more, finally pulled out of his stun lock now that they’re not two inches away from him. He was not willing to trust that they wouldn’t kill him. Turning, he scrambles up and bolts.
He can hear them screech something, but he doesn’t care. He needs to run— to *hide—* to never come back to the beach because it was a mistake, a trap. The beauty of the sea was only a trap to lure him into the hungry jaws of mers.
He doesn’t even realize he’s back at his camp until he collapses in front of the intertwined trees with a pained gasp. Pushing himself up by his shaking arms, he blinks away tears. His entire body is trembling in fatigue and draining adrenaline. This was the second time he’d gone running back to his camp because of that mer.
He passes out on the ground, hungry and exhausted.
——
//////
——
He spends the next few days nursing his mental health back to something more reasonable.
He does not dare move from his spot, the phantom feeling of sand and water and hot breath lapping at his legs grounding him in his spot.
——
//////
——
He counts his supplies. Once, twice, thrice just to pass the time before he goes back to pacing. Back and forth and back and forth and *back and forth and…*
——
//////
——
It’s been two weeks. Two long, exhausting weeks.
He’s still decently stocked on water and food, but once his water and food starts going down, he has no idea how to get other supplies. The island doesn’t have much else he can’t gather— at least, nothing he knows about with his limited knowledge— so he’s stuck with going back to that beach.
He paces around his camp, despite knowing that he should preserve any energy he has. He just… has to move or else he feels like he’s going to implode on himself. With how things are going, he’s going to carve an entire pathway into the earth from the back and forth stress walking he’s been doing.
Things have calmed into a strange little routine now. He wakes up, eats, paces, sits down, eats, paces, paces, and paces before going to bed to repeat the process the next day. Of course, during all the pacing, he does scour the medium sized island for anything more he can take and use.
And yet he’s left with a buzzing in his veins.
Probably because he hasn’t focused on his magic since his encounter with the mer. Last time he ignored his routinely magic practices, he had lost his finesse. It was easy to gain back but it was a jarring experience for him when he’s been taught to always practice. He could probably replace his time of pacing to practice.
Like right now.
…Even if he doesn’t feel like it.
He groans, plopping down on the floor and shoving his hands into his face. But before he can berate himself for being so lazy, a full-blown shudder runs through his entire body and—
A second later a shrill wail pierces the air. It’s full of energy and magic, making his entire body feel aflame for a second. The combined sound and feeling makes him want to cry out of pain. Whatever the hell made that sound was obviously hurt and calling for some kind of help. It sounded desperate.
He almost immediately stands up to rush towards the sound— because someone is hurt, someone needs help, *his* help— before he freezes. The only thing that could make that noise would be the *mer.* Despite the strange amount of magic that ran deep in the island’s sandy ground, there were no other magic-touched creatures or objects nearby. He’d feel it if there was.
His first line of thought is to grab his blankets and curl up in it; his second— is a question.
How did the *giant mer* get hurt?
He shakes the question out of his head. He shouldn’t care about that. Last he checked, they were gauging how good he’d taste when they last met. It’s not his problem. It would be better for it to bleed out or something. He might be able to finally set up a signal.
Guilt fills his stomach as soon as the thought passes by. He shouldn’t be thinking that. He was a healer for Prime’s sake. A stranded one that hadn’t practiced magic in a while, but a healer all the same. It was his place to help others, to help people like him. And he was just… ignoring someone who needed help.
Like a tug of war, his mind slaps those thoughts away. That ‘someone’ who needed help was also someone who was known for killing people. A dangerous beast of the sea. One who looked close to trying to eat him.
(But, a *hurt* beast of the sea all the same. A creature of the ocean who shared the same magical finesse as him when few others did. That had to mean something, right?)
He can’t help but frown.
Something in him must have changed while he stayed at this magic stained island. Maybe it was siren magic. Maybe it was the pure loneliness that he felt. Or maybe he was just… too tired. There could be many reasons, but, whatever it was, shook the stillness out of him to move.
With shaky breaths, he took his blanket with him, running towards the beach. If the damned beast decided to kill him, then he could give less of a damn. At least then he wouldn’t have to live his life out on this stupid island.
As he reached the beach, the possessed courage that took hold of him left as quickly as it came when he saw the mer. They were still as big as he remembered, unfortunately. He gulps, nervously shifting his weight on the balls of his feet. He.. can still back out. He’s still far enough away where they can’t reach him.
As soon as he goes up to them, it’s game over for him. They’ll either swallow him up right then and there, or wait for him to heal them. He’ll be a good snack once he’s passed out from using up so much magic. No annoying squirming. Just deadweight. He shudders.
The mer hasn’t reacted to his presence. They’re.. just curled up on their side.
He can see their arms curled around their stomach, only allowing him to see a slight reddish colour seeping from their pale skin.
His frown deepens. Even from the tree line, he can tell that it looks pretty bad. He can’t help but feel sympathy.
He shifts back and forth, freezing when the mer lets out another whine, way softer than their first cry, but with no less magic infused power. At this distance, it makes his chest rattle from how strong it is. They don’t seem aware of how much magic they’re using. It’s almost scary how much magical potential they possess. Almost.
Without meaning to, his own magic hum softly as a soothing reassurance. The mer freezes at the same time he does. *Shit.* He darts behind a tree right as their head snaps towards his horrible hiding spot— he’s not even fully hidden by the thin trunk. They growl. Loudly.
Peeking out from the tree to see them definitely staring at him, he laments his lost cover. Damn his stupid reflex to assist those in need. His cover is already blown; he might as well help.
With that very impulsive decision, he creeps out from the cover of the tree and slowly approaches them, wincing as the mer’s growls louden.
“This is insane,” he whispered to himself as he gets closer, still inching to the clearly riled up mer, “I’m insane. Why am I doing this?”
The mer rumbles something that sounds like agreement as they try to shuffle away from him. A pained whine escapes them.
“Hey! Primes— don’t move so much, you’re gonna irritate that wound, you bozo.”
A growl in response.
He’d question the fact that they were responding to him at all, if he wasn’t so focused on trying to stop himself from chickening out.
“Prick, you were the one to call for me in the first place,” he snapped back, uncaring that they had no chance of understanding him, and he leaned a little closer, “just— let me see your wound—“
They growl louder.
He sighs. It’s almost like he was having a conversation with a toddler, so he can’t help but shift his voice to his… well. His ‘baby’ voice. “Heyy, hey… Relax… I’m not gonna do anything. It’s not gonna hurt. I’m just looking, okay? Just looking.”
The mer has the gall to look offended, and he snorts softly, voice returning back to normal. Maybe the ‘baby’ voice transcended all languages. “Look man. Like I said, I can’t exactly do anything to you. You have full control over this. If you let me look, I promise to back off if you growl.”
At this, they seem to contemplate his words, and, huh. Maybe they *do* understand him.
They slowly moved their arms away to show the wound. He takes a step closer. They don’t growl, even if it looks like they want to.
He takes that as a small win. He takes it as another win as he’s not stopped as soon as he reaches the wound. Something itches at the back of his mind, reminding him that he’s now completely caged next to the beast.
He ignores it, another primal part of him taking over to analyze the scratch wounds in front of him. It’s bleeding a lot, but it looks like that might only be because the mer has been moving around a lot. The scratch is long, but shallow. Good. He doesn’t want to even think about finding a way to stitch together a wound so big compared to him.
But there’s still the fact that he can’t heal them without clearing out any possible debris that’s stuck in the wound. Glancing over at the mer, who’s been staring daggers at him the entire time, he shifts the blanket under his arm into his hands.
“I’m going to have to clean this out with water. It’s going to sting because it’s ocean water, but you probably already know that.”
A soft ‘mrrp’ as confirmation— which, holy Primes, he’s actually communicating with a mer— and he’s off to soak his blanket in water for the second time he’s had it.
It takes a few trips, but he’s able to wipe up the wound. It’s not his best work, but they’re not his best patient either, if the angry squeaks are any indication. Once he’s sure that he’s cleaned up as much as he can, he drops the blanket to the side, cracking his knuckles.
“I’m going to have to touch you for this,” he warns.
They only confusedly chirp at him— *oh,* he— he never explained what he could do. Right.
“I’m a healer. Like.. a magic healer. I can heal you with magic.” And then pass out right afterwards after he’s used up all the magic that’s currently welled up in him. An easy snack for them after being patched up. Such a kind offer from him.
The explanation seems to satisfy them, and they slowly lean closer, allowing his palms to touch above the injury.
He takes a deep breath in, preparing himself for a painful headache he’s about to receive before he lets his magic flow up to his hands. The warmth spills out as a blue glow while he drags his fingers around the wound.
The mer practically shudders under the touch but he’s not deterred. He’s been told that it’s a soothing feeling, a complete contrast to what he feels right after healing someone.
The wound closes up on itself with ease, and he pulls his hands away with a stumble. Pressing a hand against his temple and waiting for the pain from his headache to come, he squeezes his eyes shut as he feels a webbed hand curl around him. It’s as he suspected. As soon as the mer was healed, he was back on the platter.
*Fuck.* He knew this was going to happen but it didn’t make it any less scary. The hand flexes, and he flinched as he feels something brush against his side before—
Before it leaves.
He opens his eyes slowly to see that the mer looks hesitant.
Their hand is pulled back to their side as they look down at their healed side. A soft, annoyed warble comes from them, and they— they just drop their hand to the side before flopping on the sand and look at him.
He blinks. Once. Twice. Then thrice, just to be sure. Did.. did.. the mer just… spare him? A startled laugh escapes him. “Oh, what the hell, man,” he whispers before he’s finally hit with a splitting headache and falls to his knees in pure exhaustion.
The mer startles at his reaction, a surprised chirp escaping past their sharp teeth.
He doesn’t fucking care. They spared him. He can process everything later.
Another chirp and a gentle poke to his side makes him slump against what he guesses is their hand. His vision is too blurry for him to confirm, and his words slur together, “I’m… juz… gonna… sl…eep.”
He passes out to the sound of distressed sounding warbles.
——
//////
——
For the second time, Squidkid is surprised to have woken up.
He groans, a pounding headache plaguing his head as he shuffles to get up. He makes it up to sitting on his ass before his vision blackens. He pauses so he doesn’t pass out again.
When his vision clears, he notices the huge fucking arms stretched around him and promptly panics.
*What the fuck, what the fuck, what the FUCK—* He was supposed to be dead. The mer was supposed to— to *eat* him when he fell unconscious. Why was he still alive? The mer should’ve killed him by now. That’s what every story he’s ever heard has said.
The mer’s arms are moving around him, and he’s helpless to stop their hands as they curl around his figure. He’s lifted up and turned around so he’s facing them. They warble something out, moving his limbs all around as if checking out if he was broken or blemished.
“W— What are you doing?” he squirms, his senses coming back to him. Everything feels sore, but at least he can still move around.
The mer warbles something out again, placing him down in front of them before they shuffle slightly to pull an entire fucking crate from the sea. They tear a side open before placing it in front of him.
He blinks. “What the hell.” He rubs his eyes hard enough to see stars again before he takes another look— and, yup, they just placed an entire crate of canned food and water in front of him. “Have *you* been the one putting these here?”
The mer smiles. Their fangs glisten in the light.
He shivers. “Oh. I thought you were going to kill me, honestly.”
The mer looks partly horrified while also being bewildered.
He feels weirdly defensive. “Hey—! It’s a valid thought process— I’m literally bite sized to you.”
The pinkette rolls their eyes, shoving the crate closer and tipping it so the supplies fall into his lap.
He grabs a bottle of water and opens a can of dried peach that doesn’t look too bad. It’s a bit awkward eating when the mer is staring at him so intensely, but he gets through it easily enough. “Soo….” He tosses the empty can and bottle to the side. “You’re not going to kill me, yes?”
The mer clicks something short.
“I’m taking that as a yes.” He raises an eyebrow. “So what *are* you going to do with me?”
The mer stares at him.
He stares back.
Slowly, the mer shoves the crate towards him again, narrowing their eyes.
“…That gesture can still be taken in many ways, bozo,” he deadpans.
The mer lets out a long, agonized whistle, dropping their head down.
He takes that moment to try and stand up. It goes horribly. He stumbles, and his vision splotches. He can hear the mer warble, and the next thing he knows, the mer’s hands are cupped around him. He yelps as he’s dragged towards them until he’s pressed against their chest.
Their arms curl around him again, and they growl almost… protectively.
At that moment, he realizes what they’re doing. “You’re mothering me. You— I am *not* a fucking child—“
The mer huffs, sounding vaguely amused.
He tries to stumble up onto his legs again. “Look— I’m glad you decided against killing me but that doesn’t mean you can just… just dote on me,” he grunts, rolling his eyes at their insistent chirping.
Their hands cage in on him again, but he swats at their fingers.
“No! Fuck off,” he hisses. “I’ll be fine.”
The fucker give him a look, sliding over a few cans of food and some more water bottles.
Almost comically, his stomach growls in hunger. He flushes, and snatches the food up. “Not a fucking word.”
Thankfully, the mer doesn’t make a peep as he eats more food.
“So… *Why* didn’t you kill me?” He asks, after a few minutes of silence.
The mer tilts their head in thought before pointing at their now-healed wound with what he assumes is a confused noise.
He blinks. “I already told you that I’m a healer? I learnt it at one of the few schools that teach magic.”
They shake their head, pointing at him then at the wound and making another confused noise.
“I… don’t know what you’re trying to say. I— Are you trying to ask why *I* didn’t leave you bleeding?”
They nod, and— Well.
“Oh. I… Uh. I don’t know.” He answers honestly, which makes him sound really stupid now that he’s actually said it out loud. The mer is obviously *not* satisfied with his answer, and he continues. “What? I don’t fucking know. I guess I felt like I’d be an asshole if I just left you there! My tutor kinda drilled in the whole ‘a healer never leaves someone to die’ into me.”
The mer squints at him, shaking their head as if they can’t believe his reasoning. And, really, he can’t blame them. He’s still questioning his own choices. It… might have to do with the fact that he was feeling a little insane after being stuck alone for so, *so* long.
He shifts his gaze from them to the seashore. “Look man, you try being alone for *weeks* in an unfamiliar place. You’d go insane after a while too. I’m… *used* to having a bunch of people around me, even if they don’t interact with me, and I’m most definitely *not* used to having to survive on some stupid fucking island.”
They contemplate his words before conceding with a low noise.
He glances over at them. “So… Now that you’re healed, what are you going to do? I don’t suppose staying here with a stranded human is any fun.”
The mer shrugs.
Squidkid *sputters,* “what do you mean by *that—?”*
——
//////
——
They’ve come to some kind of agreement. He comes out once a day to kinda just… hang out with them while they hand him another fucking crate of stuff.
Today, he’s trying to make a ‘help’ sign, but it’s hard when he has such a… giant, whiny mer in the way.
“Wh— stop batting at the wood!” he chastises, “I’m trying to do something with it!”
The mer whines loudly, spreading themselves out completely onto the beach. They’re like a giant, annoying cat. One that keeps getting in his way.
“Please?”
The pinkette thinks for a moment before spreading their arms out and knocking the rest of the wood into a pile.
He groans, dropping the wood piece in his hands to the floor. He’s been at this for hours, but at this point he might as well take a break. “You’re insufferable.”
The mer grins widely, reaching out and making grabby hands towards him.
“The hell do you want, prick?” he places a hand on his hip. “Are you just acting this way to get my attention? You really do act like a little kid. Or a cat.” He yelps as they claw at the sand, pulling themselves over to him. “Definitely a cat—“
They scoop him up into his hands, manhandling him like usual until he’s laying against them again with their arms stretched around him.
Instead of sitting down, he pushes himself up and decides to dig in the sand for sea shells. He’s accepted his fate, yes, but he’s not going to sit there completely bored out of his mind.
After picking up the fiftieth shell, he glances over to the sea curiously. Despite being on the beach, he’s never actually tried swimming. He sure as hell not going to try right now, seeing that he’s surrounded by an overbearing mer, but the thought brings him to look over at the mer’s powerful tail.
He’s heard that mer’s tails are strong enough to create waves that could topple ships. It makes sense really, seeing that they’d have to push themselves through ocean currents.
But, in the stories those mers have fish tails. This mer doesn’t have the normal fish-like tail. He’s not certain how this mer would swim, seeing that their tail is more… like a flat circle. All the fish he’s seen before have waved their fins back and forth. Would they do it… up and down because of its circular-like shape?
He’s snapped out of his thoughts as the mer rumbles lowly, and he realizes that he’s been staring. “Sorry,” he murmurs, glancing up to the mer. “I’m just curious about your tail. All the tails of mers I’ve heard about have portrayed it differently. They look like normal fish. Like… cod or bass.”
The mer hums, looking thoughtful. A moment later, he’s being scooped up with an ungraceful yell. He wants to chastise them, but before he can, he’s placed in front of their tail.
He blinks, glances up at the mer, looks back down at the fin, and reaches out to touch their fish tail. He runs a hand against it, grimacing at the feeling. It’s… slimy like most fish tails he’s touched. He pulls his hand away, wiping it on his jacket.
He circles around their tail carefully taking in the dark color. It seemed like it was good for blending into the deeper ocean, which made sense. It stuck out like a sore thumb in the light though. As he reaches near the end of their tail to a part that thins out to a line, he pauses. Strangely enough, the thin part of the tail has a small, discolored part that jets out.
Curiously, he reaches out to touch it.
The mer *snarls,* jerking it’s entire tail away from him.
He tumbles back as water splashes him in the face. “Alright, alright! No touching there; I got it—“ he sputters in annoyance, wiping the water off of his face. When he looks up at the mer, his irritation drifts away quickly.
The mer looks *terrified.*
“…Are you alright? Is your tail sensitive there?”
Instead of answering, the mer jerks forward and pulls him back over to their chest with a low growl.
“What the— hey! I told you not to—“
They snarl louder, and he snaps his jaw closed. Listening to their heartbeat, he frowns. Their heart rate has spiked significantly.
“…Do you wanna tell me what that was all about then?” he furrows his eyebrows. “Or am I supposed to just be left in the dark?”
The mer warbles nervously, threading their hands together.
Looks like he’s going to have to play a game of charades. “Is it sensitive there?”
They make a so-so gesture.
“…Right. What does that even mean?”
He watches as they gesture to him before making a shape with his hand; they gesture to the thin part of their tail before making a shape with their other hand. He watches as the… figure of him walks over to the mer’s tail and— and *fall over* on its side.
He gets their message loud and clear. He gulps nervously. “Ah. Okay. So I’m never touching that part of your tail. In fact, I don’t ever wanna be near it.”
The mer has the audacity to laugh at him.
——
//////
——
The mer, in all their stupid fish glory, is holding him hostage. Again.
He eyes them from below, encased by an imaginary line. If he were to even try escaping, they’d drag him back to sitting next to him. And he *really* doesn’t want to test what lengths they’d go to keeping him here, especially when they’re fiddling with their hair.
Every time they’ve hung out, the mer has had some sort of shells or seaweed intertwined in their braided hair, and he’s fairly certain with all their whiny and pettiness that they’d definitely try to braid him into their hair. He doesn’t even want to question the fact that they know how to braid hair to be frank.
Although, maybe he shouldn’t be so afraid, seeing how they keep unbraiding and re-braiding their hair every two seconds. It doesn’t look *that* bad, but they keep giving up. It’s like they had no idea how to braid their hair despite actively always wearing braids. It’s miserable to even look at, really.
Apparently his thoughts were loud enough for the mer to hear because they glance at him and scowl.
“What? I didn’t even say anything!” He throws his hands up into the air. “How do you not know how to braid your hair?”
They growl loudly, pointing furiously at the water and then at their hair.
“You’re telling me that because your hair is waterlogged, you can’t braid your hair?” And— nope, that only made the mer look more indignant. “It’s not that? What could— oh. Do you normally braid your hair in the water?”
The mer nods furiously.
“I feel like that makes it infinitely harder but whatever. Why don’t you just… find a giant hair tie and put it into a bun?”
With that suggestion, he’s given an, admittedly valid, glare.
“What? Can’t find some rope and tie it around your hair? Or just… y’know, your hair looks long enough that you could just tie it back with your own hair.”
They pause, tilting their head curiously, and oh no. He might’ve just elongated his stay with this mer for a bit longer. But, hey, at least he wasn’t sitting in boredom now.
“Yeah, there’s ways to like… keep your hair back with just… your own hair.” He pulls at the hair tie around his own, admittedly longer than usual hair, grimacing as it tugs at his tangled mess. “It’s kinda hard to show when my own hair is a fucking mess but I know there’s a few different ways.”
The mer leans forwards in anticipation, expecting him to spill more of his hair ‘wisdom.’ And, *oh,* he can use this to his advantage.
He grins teasingly. “Ohh, no. I’m not telling you without getting something in return.”
They let out a half-growl that’s borderline whiny. It’s stupid enough to make him laugh.
“If I teach you how to do one of them, you have to let me go. Alright?”
The pinkette thinks for a moment before letting out a defeated sigh, and they nod.
“Perfect!” He exclaims. “Here, let me show you how to put it up in a bun.”
Before he can overthink it too much, he turns so the mer can see the back of his head… and in doing so, he exposes his back to them. He refuses to think more about what that action means, and instead he pulls his hair back before grabbing it and twisting it up to create a loop. “After doing that, you’re going to want to wrap the rest of your hair around the twisted hair to keep it together.”
He glances back to see that the mer is hastily coping his moves, and he waits until they’ve successfully followed his instructions. They’re learning it faster than a fish in water, which… Now that he’s made that simile, he can’t hold back a small snort of laughter at the irony. The mer trills curiously at his quiet laughter, and he shakes his head.
“Right, next, you’re going to want to twist the little loop that you’ve made over the rest of your hair,” he instructs. “I don’t have nearly enough hair to do it, but with your length of hair, it should be easy enough.”
Sure enough, the mer pulls the twisted loop over the rest of their hair, creating a neat bun. It was obviously easier for them, seeing that their hair was silky smooth and very waterlogged.
“There you go,” he praises, letting his hair drop back onto his shoulders. “Now, shoo, let me go now.”
The mer eyes him deviously, and he knows exactly where this is heading.
“Oh you fucking bozo—” he shouts as they scoop him up in their hands.
——
//////
——
“Y’know,” he hums, “now that I’m focusing on my magic again, it’s kinda weird.” He fiddles with the magic between his hands, reluctantly sticking to his own bleeding magic instead of the sweltering magic that practically shoves itself down his throat. The last time he tried to use it, the mer practically became a wild beast to stop him from doing so. He did *not* want to become food for the fish, after all.
The mer in question is lazily stretched out on the beach, their arms caging around him. If he ignores the pang of fear vibrating in his chest, he doesn’t mind too much. Their arms are perfect to lean against. They peer an eye open to stare at him; their dilated eyes becoming slits as sunlight hits the iris.
He continues. “Before I got stranded here, I lived in a temple. Not, uh, not a religious one— which… I guess… means it’s not a temple? But, regardless of that, the place was filled with all sorts of magic users. If you focused, the place had a foggy sensation of magic.” He tilts his head back to look up at the sky, slouching against the mer’s arms as his hands drop into his lap.
The mer rumbles something in their language.
“And despite it being filled with many talented magic users, the place never felt as… crackling as this island, y’know? The magic here is almost suffocating, almost as if it’s begging to be used.”
The mer growls, and he holds his hands up placatingly.
“I’m not going to use any of it; you’d tear my head off if I did, bozo,” he soothes. “It’s just… weird. Cool, but weird. I wonder if there are other places that have copious amounts of magic in them.” He finally shifts to look at the mer.
They look troubled, or as troubled as a sea creature can look.
“Have you ever been to a place like that? Besides here?”
The mer blinks slowly, looking as if they’re contemplating something.
He waits to see if they’ll nod or shake their head.
They shrug.
“You don’t know?” he asks incredulously. “How do you *not* know? If I went to a place full of magic, *I’d* know.” How could someone not realize that they’re surrounded by magic? This island practically suffocated him with its magic. Did the mer just not… feel any of its effects?
He startled when he felt the mer shift around him, glancing up to look at them when he realizes his gaze dropped to his hands.
Their magic hums to life, flaring up like when they were calling out for help. He expected their magic to shove its way down his throat like the island— but he’s pleasantly surprised as it flows around him, whispering in low tones like a morning sunbathe at the beachside. It reminds him of back home, where he’d wade into the calm waters just to feel the waves move around him.
Until he feels his nerves light up in fear.
The waters around him pull him from the sandy beach, funneling into a [] and pulling him til the sight of sand is a mere dream. He looks down to see dark shadows of dancing tentacles. A wave rages into him, dragging him meters downwards to a dark, deep hell— with only a ball of light below him that shines onto rows of sharp teeth.
He gasps for air instinctively, and when he breathes, the magic suddenly shifts. Instead of beating him down, it soothes down to curl around his own magic, back to how it felt before it changed.
The mer warbles worriedly, and he raises a hand up. “I’m fine. I’m fine, don’t worry. I get what you mean now.”
*Fuck,* of course the mer doesn’t realize when there’s powerful magic around. It’s because *they* have powerful magic too. He’s so stupid. Of course a merperson would have powerful magic. He even felt it when they were hurt.
The mer moves closer to him, pressing their nose against his hand and closing their eyes.
He makes a noise of confusion. “What are you…?” he trails off, gasping when the mer’s magic flared up again.
This time though, it feels different. Instead of crashing down on him, it showers down on him like gentle rain droplets on a dull, dreary day. He can’t even feel the strangling magic from the island any more. It’s… relieving; he hadn’t noticed how hard it was to breathe in until the magic was removed.
The mer peers an eye open, and he meets their gaze. Their eyes, now that he looks at it, aren't really blood red. It’s… darker. Maybe a mahogany, if he wants to get technical about it. But it still shines like a ruby in the light— maybe because their pupils are thinner than a stick and he can see more of their iris.
Their magic sings louder for a moment as if it was piercing into his head, and he resultantly jerks his hand back. “Ow, what the hell?” It felt like something was trying to worm into his *head.*
The mer warbles in concern and pulls their head back, their hands coming to cup around him instead.
He swats at their hands. “I’m fine, I’m fine. What was that?”
They pull their hands back with a grumble, their tail slapping against the water in an annoyed manner.
“Were you trying to do something?”
They nod, lifting a finger to his head and gently tapping it.
He swats at their hand again, taking a second to process what that could possibly mean. “Were you trying to… *get inside* my head?” Primes, only the most powerful of mages knew how to perform magic like that… mostly because it was magic hidden from the general public, but *still.*
The mer makes a so-so gesture with their hand.
He squints. “How the fuck do you ‘sort of try’ to mindreading? Actually— don’t answer that. I don’t even think you could with our limited communication skills.”
The mer slumps onto the sand with a nod. Obviously, they agree.
He sighs, flopping onto his back and closing his eyes to soak in the sunlight with the mer. “Right. Good talk.”
——
//////
——
-But one day, the mer is worriedly pacing- and- was the beach always that small? Why did it seem like it was shrinking? Techno noms.
//
Squidkid wakes up, feeling off.
He sits up, eyeing his surroundings. Everything around him feels… off. Nothing has visibly changed, or at least he thinks so, but the magic surrounding him has become lighter, hazier. It’s unsettling how the magic was no longer pressing down on his shoulders.
He frowns, rubbing his eyes as he drags himself up. Something was wrong.
He has half the mind to grab his blanket if only so he can maybe carry things if needed. The rest of his stuff in his camp were left behind. None of it was truly needed with the mer around.
...
<he walks towards the nearest edge, only to see that it’s no longer a cliff but submerged in water. Ground shakes and he falls as water floods around him. His blanket soggily pressing against him now>
<he backs away and hears techno call out to him so he rushes over>
He sees the mer beach onto the much smaller sandy surface, and he rushes over to them, stumbling into the water next to them,
“What is happening?”
The mer doesn’t grace him with a noise, only scooping him from the ground and pushing them both into the water.
He curses as their fingers curl around him, keeping him suspended over the water.
...
He throws the wet blanket at the mer’s face and it slaps across their eyes. He’s dropped into the water, salty water forcing its way up his nose and burning his eyes. He thrashes up back to the surface, and when he’s coughed the water out of his lungs, he looks up to see them pulling the blanket off their eyes.
They growl down at him, circling their arms around him.
A roar from behind him causes the mer to jerk their gaze up, and he spins to see his island sanctuary almost gone. From this far away, he can see a pair of front flippers and a head attached to a shell full of sand and trees.
He was on a giant fucking living turtle island this whole time.
His mouth goes dry.
That’s why they didn’t let him build a help signal.
haha no worries ! asks are better when they're marinated <'3
> the banter between them in a pirate au sounds like it has a lot of potential
YES yes yes i didn't think of that!! if they're at sea for days on end together they could get really annoyed with each other lmao,,,
> i don't know much about captain hydra
honestly me neither but it seemed fitting lmao
> as for nat...
YES YES YES i like the way you think!!!! i think ill do a human-sized mer for her :3 i could totally see her being some kind of badass little asset to steve :3
i will definitely let you know if i do stuff for this! i have a doc that im just sorta adding ideas to so lmk if you'd ever wanna see that ! i have a LITTLE bit of writing so far but its really just spitballing so i can find the tone of the story lol
I can't think of anything but I HOPE there's a way to incorporate a version of "can you move the seat up / you're not going to move the seat up, are you?" / "no" hajsaj
Human-sized Nat who can single-handedly take out a ship of sailors without Steve's help would be a silly reference to maybe make. She's cool like that.
And PLEASE, whatever you'd like to share with me for thisn stuff would be amazing. I love my ocean aus LOL
let's pretend for a minute that this ACTUALLY looks like bucky and walker and not like a bunch of scribbles...but i love the idea of bucky just holding walker in his mouth like you would a hair-tie lmao. and for no reason other than to piss him off!
OOH I love this. This is great
I imagine the first time this happens isn't even on purpose. Bucky is just like, 'need to free up my hands' and nom. It's only after like three seconds of Walker squirming that he's like 'wait.'
And then it just turns into another way to annoy him LOL
okay okay i figured out the cap quartet thing i wanted to do,,,
human sized pirate!bucky (because YES also im gonna use the seaglass idea)
giant leviathan steve (but like for the sake of story make him evil in the beginning,,, thinking captain hydra)
tiny harpy sam (cause all pirates need a little parrot *cough* falcon *cough* to go on their shoulder)
AND i wanna add nat but idk what to make her :( maybe another pirate ? idk !
i think this would be fire if i sat down and planned it out :3
sorry to come into ur askbox unannounced i just lwk needed to yap ab this
OUGH, I FORGOT YOU ASKED THIS WAIT
I WAS ANSWERING THE OTHER ONE AND WAS LIKE ?? NEW ASK? BUT NO
Pirate, seaglass arm Bucky my beloved!!! I love the idea of Sam being a tiny falcon ougghg,,,,,, the banter between them in a pirate au sounds like it has lots of potential. Also dunno much about captain hydra other than it's evil Steve so Hell Yeah!!
As for Nat, I can see her as a human sized mer who is Bucky's sea spy or somethin,,,, another pirate on the ship sounds good too tho.
OH MY GOODNESS. I READ 2 OF THE THREE THINGS YOU SWNT ME AND I AM ABSOLUTELY OBSESSED WITH BUCKY NOMMING UNWILLING SAM,,, aaaooMLLLLLL
IM. LIKE. CLAWING AT THE WALLS,,, fantastic give me 14 of them RIGHT neow omlldndbsnsnsnsndmd
i'm gonna explode /pos
eeeeeekkkkkk and tiny peter oh my goodness !!!! i love love love your brain and i love USUSHSHDHDBDBD i love it all im actually buzzing >_<
you're feeding my brain very yummy food <3 i will be reading the next one soon:3
;3!! Now that summer months have hit (mostly), I hope to have freed enough brain space up for more time to marinate on fics. Especially since Thunderbolts hit me like,,, well. like a thunderbolt.
So,,, as soon as I rewatch the movie on video (so I can pause and rewind on the good parts), I will hab more ideas. & I've started watching Daredevil so hopefully ideas will come for him.
Can't say that my Bucky & Sam ideas will stop anytime soon tho prolly. Besides Yelena & Bob, they're my other obsession lololol
obviously, anything with scott lang or hope van dyne. the pym particles are just MWAH !
going off of that, imagine someone going to the quantum realm and their sizing getting messed up when they return, leading them to being just a few inches tall
loki, obviously, could very easily shrink someone to toy with them. likewise, he could also shrink himself down and pull little pranks
thor, or any other person from above realms coming to earth, but their side is altered greatly and they're standing at fifty, maybe even a hundred feet
tony building little iron man models to help do the little things. maybe even tony making a nanotech suit for scott !
bucky as the winter soldier, except with the addition that whenever he's triggered he shrinks. he could he like a tiny assassin !
bruce banner's hulking out turns into a helluva lot bigger hulk than any of them remember
scott being a giant holding little cassie >_<
bucky's instincts around tiny things. especially after being in the winter soldier mindset—he could scare the shit out of a tiny if they moved the wrong way
thor pissing loki off one day so he shrinks his brother and keeps him in his pocket all day aa
black widow except she's the size of a black widow ! t!drider!natasha?
along the same lines, peter parker but he's spider sized after the spider bite !
some kind of long-term effect from the super soldier serum: an unexpected and unexplainable growth spurt (i may be writing a fic about thisss right now)
sam with a tiny joaquin torres aaaa
clint in the vents but it's just tiny clint living in there
tony building little add-ons around the compound for borrower avengers.
Brisk got himself injured and seb was hungry, win win if you ask me.
Little hc, i think he has two stomachs, one in the humanoid upper torso from before the experiments and one in the snake body that developed with the tail. Both can be accessed, it’s just more fun to use that depending on if I’m drawing Brisk smaller or not geheheh
