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The tale of the shipwrecked kitten & shark.

Summary:

“You know weird things.” he replied, taking a humorous, diplomatic tone, “How about you hop aboard my raft, and we survive the end of the world together?”

Or; the fic where Tina and Foolish, two stranded castaways, decide to team up on a search for civilisation and a means of survival — but first, they’ll have to learn to survive each other, made all the more difficult by their tendency to argue like siblings and butt heads over leadership.

Tensions are high, and the water is rising.

Notes:

Welcome to… this? A very self self indulgent little thing I wrote while hyperfixating on Tina and Foolish’s raft series a couple months back, that started out as just crack/fluff but became its own thing with angst and character development (oh god). This is so niche, but I love it so much that I have to post it even if no one reads it!

[EDIT 27/6/23] Came back to fix some formatting errors, also decided to change this chapter title from ‘No help in sight.’ to ‘Beyond the sea.’ so now all three chapters have ‘sea’ in their titles! :)

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Chapter 1: Beyond the sea.

Chapter Text

If Foolish deepened his voice to sound like he knows what he’s doing, when in actuality he has no clue, then that’s simply him being thoughtful for the sake of reassuring the poor, helpless stranger he’s spotted.

“Hey Lady, you need any help?” he hollered, aiming for an air of bravery and landing more along the lines of blubbering uncertainty.

The glare from the water must hit him in the eye, because for a second it almost looked like the stranger had ears on the top of their head, and that the fur-covered peaks had turned and perked up towards the sound of his voice.

He paddled his tiny raft closer to the shore, and it appears his eyes have only half deceived him. The figure walking along the beach is wearing some kind of cat-ear headband. It’s an odd fashion choice for a deserted island, but then again, so is their decision to also wear an extravagant, purple ballgown.

The large, flowery garment fell just above her knees, and it almost looked like she had to physically lift it when she trudged closer to the shoreline. The sleeves were likewise short, the puffy, balloon-like things stopping above her elbow, making her arms look small and daintier than they otherwise would.

She hesitantly cupped her hands over her mouth, like she could still hardly believe she was seeing another person all the way out here, before she yelled back, “Y-yes please!”

Okay, at least she’s a polite castaway, Foolish observed optimistically. That was something, even if her appearance definitely raised a few questions. As he paddled towards shore he was able to garner that she looked drenched, as if she’d only just recently washed ashore and was finally starting to dry off in the sun. She also just looks overwhelmed. Antsy as well, maybe even a little aggravated. But that’s not hard to understand, given her circumstances.

He parked the lackluster raft in the only way he could without an anchor; by simply letting it wash ashore. He dug his paddle in the sandbank, hoping it would remain stationary like he wanted it to.

“Is there a… party? That I’m not aware of?” he joked in place of a proper greeting.

She rolled her eyes, shooting him a subtle look as if to say ‘Come on man, cut me a break here.’ Instead she indulged his curiosity by explaining, “Yeah, some guy I’ve never met named Josh is having the biggest birthday bash of the century. But I guess I won’t be making it.” she muttered bitterly.

He hummed thoughtfully, intrigued by the story, “Huh. He rich or something? Some kinda philanthropist?” he ventured.

Why else would one of his guests wind up stranded in the middle of the ocean on the way to his party? She nodded halfheartedly, not looking pleased in the slightest by his line of questioning.

“…Are you rich?” Is of course the next conclusion he jumps to.

She sighed, wringing the dress's fabric in her hands and causing water to gush out of it, like squeezing a sponge, “Look, this thing was a cheap rental that I couldn’t afford to ruin like this. Does that answer your question?”

He nodded, raising his hands as a sign of retreat, “So… are you okay?” he asked instead.

She looked mildly fed up by that point, like it was a mystery to her why on earth he’d taken so long to get to this point. She dragged her feet out from where they’d been buried in the sand by the tide lapping around them, her waterlogged ballet slippers a lost cause in terms of rental store returns.

“I’m cold,” she spat, biting back her irritation, “And I’m wet, and I’m starving.”  

As her frustrated drawl edged towards sounding animalistic in nature, she took a large step towards him and the safety of his raft. Quick to defend himself from the stranger, Foolish held his makeshift oar out in front of himself, halting her in her tracks entirely.

“Woah, woah, woah, crazy cat lady.” he said in a jovial, yet utterly serious tone, “Listen, I’ve been shipwrecked too. How about instead of eating me, we look for food together?” he suggested.

She looked at him like he was the crazy one in this exchange, “Eat you? What do I look like, some kinda creature from the black lagoon?” she replied, speaking in an odd, almost cartoonish way.

She seemed deeply offended by the apparently baseless accusation he’d ledged at her. Foolish brought the oar back towards his body, figuratively testing the still vastly uncharted waters of their possible partnership.

“…I have not seen that movie, nor do I care to watch anything pre-invention of color.” he remarked.

Now the ragged woman just looked plain flabbergasted. And it was an odd position to find himself in; being judged by a fellow castaway who was dressed like a fairytale princess of all things.

“Dude, they had color, they just didn’t know how to film it yet.”

Foolish blinked slowly, and she blinked back, and after a few moments he shrugged in resignation, deciding it sounded good enough to probably be true, “You know weird things.” he replied, taking a humorous, diplomatic tone, “How about you hop aboard my raft, and we survive the end of the world together?”

She seemed to visibly weigh her options for a moment, glancing around at the deserted beach, surrounded by endless rising ocean, and then back to the shoddy, patched together mess of milk cartons and driftwood that he was calling a raft. It had barely enough room for both of them to stand on, and yet, there was only one logical choice to make here.

She took his hand, and he helped balance her as she climbed onboard. It wasn’t difficult, given that she practically had the stature and weight of a pincushion to him.

“I’m Tina by the way.” she said in a resigned, unenthusiastic tone.

Foolish dug his oar into the sandbank, pushing them off and towards the closest offshore current, “Hi Tina, I’m Foolish.” he greeted brightly, “I like your cat-ear headband, by the way.”

There was a comically long pause before she finally asked, “…What?”

Confused by her confusion, he turned to look at her, and upon catching sight of something long, white and flicking behind Tina’s legs, he lost his footing.

Tina yelped as the raft violently rocked forwards, “Oh my God-!”

He tried to regain balance, but it was too late. Foolish fell overboard, and the momentum sent Tina tumbling in right after him, “Foolish!” she yelled.

With that, the raft capsized, approximately only ten seconds after they’d decided to join forces on its charter. And Tina, who had been well on her way to drying off, was once again soaked through. She tore to the surface with an abrupt gasp, hacking up the seawater she’d inadvertently inhaled. The skirts of her ballgown billowed  around her like the frills of a poisonous, deep-sea jellyfish.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” she chastised the second Foolish resurfaced, the man looking far too unbothered by being thrown into the ocean for her flaring temper to handle.

He whipped his head around to face her, his long mop of hair sending saltwater droplets into her unsuspecting eyes, “Me?! Why do you have a tail?!” he deflected.

She coughed unflatteringly, furiously swiping at her stinging eyes as she desperately kicked to keep her head above the surface, “I just do okay, is that alright with you?!” she rebuked.

Foolish looked at the snow-white fur of her ears, which were now drooping miserably in their drenched state. The offending tail also floated up behind her as the woman weakly dog-paddled. Or, maybe cat-paddled, then. Sure, it had been surprising, after all he’d never seen a cat-hybrid before. But Foolish didn’t actually mind. He could still be annoyed with her for giving him such a shock, though.

However her expression suddenly soured further, turning to one of utter mortification, “Are you- Oh my God! Stop. Staring!” she shrieked, simultaneously outraged and embarrassed.

She splashed a pitiful amount of water at his face before wrenching her hands underwater, pushing her dress downwards in a desperate attempt to hide her tail.

He looked equally as mortified with the strange accusation, “I’m not!” he yelled back just as loud, scrunching his eyes shut and turning his body away as if that would somehow prove anything in his favor.

Tina’s legs quickly became tangled in the intricate layers of fabric, making it difficult to keep treading water. She looked over her shoulder, and her eyes widened in horror at what she saw.

“Fuck, Foolish! Wave-”

It was too late for either of them. Foolish had been too busy pretending he was blind for… the sake of Tina’s modesty, or something? The reasoning behind his logic was still unclear. The point was, he’d been far too distracted to notice the tide sweeping out in the telltale sign of an oncoming wave, and by the time Tina had warned him, it was already crashing on top of them. And although Tina had had a few extra seconds to prepare, she’d become too tangled in fabric to swim underwater before she too was caught in the full strength of the swell.

Being dunked by a wave at the beach was a humiliating experience. But being dunked so fucking viscerally that you were dragged all the way to shore? God, just pick up your beach bag and do the walk of shame back to your car right away.

But there was nothing other than her own contempt waiting for Tina when she finally stumbled to her feet on the sand. The water lapped behind her, and she jolted forward as if expecting to get dragged back out again. She’d apparently lost a ballet slipper somewhere along the way, and she growled like some kind of… well, like some kind of creature from the black lagoon, as she wrenched the remaining shoe off her foot and spitefully launched it in an overhand toss down the shore.

At this point of saturation, the dress only served to drag her down. Its layers were a tangled mess, and there was now also a large rip from where she’d been forced to break free of the folds to escape drowning. It could hardly provide warmth or protection from the sun anymore.

Yeah, happy fucking birthday Josh, she thought miserably; a bitter goodbye to her last physical tie to civilisation. She began tearing the thing off, leaving only her lavender underdress and white leggings underneath. They weren’t much more suitable to a survival-situation, but at least they’d be dry in a few minutes in this heat. She almost suffocated herself before finally yanking the rest of the tailored ballgown over her head, releasing a guttural, almost primal groan of victory once she’d finally defeated it.

Tina turned at the sound of coughing behind her, and her hands instantly balled into angry fists. Apparently the tide had carried her in much quicker because of her smaller size. But no span of ocean was going to be enough to save Foolish from the depths of Tina’s soggy, sunburned fury.

He coughed and wretched like he’d swallowed half the wave that had hit them, his untamed head of hair hanging over his eyes and making him look utterly ridiculous.

He somehow spotted her through the mop though, and he raised himself up on his arms, “Oh cool, you made it out too.” he said nonchalantly, despite the strained nature of his words indicating that he was still retaining far too much seawater to be healthy.

She ignored him, marching over to his struggling form on the sand, so he just kept on talking, “Oh, but you lost your dress. That’s too bad, maybe we could’ve used it as a fishing net, or-”

She delivered a kick to his shoulder, and he paused, looking down at the affected area with the level of concern appropriate for if a butterfly had landed on it. She kicked him a second time, and when he still didn’t seem affected she plopped herself down in the sand at his side, punching and swatting his arm over and over.

He blinked, “Okay, so I can tell you’re mad. That’s understandable. But I don’t know if that’s really help-”

“You! Are the biggest- ugh! Idiot! I could have possibly been stranded with!” she grumbled between boneless jabs and prods.

He slowly sat up, and she groaned, giving up on her useless attacks, “Why did you do that?!” she accused instead.

His brow furrowed with offense, “Uh, for fun Tina. No, you dingus! I obviously didn’t do it! It was an accident because you having a tail surprised me!” he explained defensively.

She once again looked deeply insulted by his tone, and her tail skirted behind her back out of reflex, “Well that’s incredibly rude and entirely your fault! So you should apologize!” she insisted.

“Apologize- Lady, I just saved your life!” he reminded her like she should be thanking him.

She scoffed, “Ugh! Don’t ‘Lady’ me, oh my goodness! I am a perfectly aged, grown ass, young woman!” she shoddily amended, and his perpetually confused expression was really starting to get on her nerves, “And ‘save my life’? I saved myself from that tidal wave, thank you very much.”

He shook his head, and once again she was hit with an unwanted spatter of water from his hair, “No, I meant I saved you by letting you on my…” But he trailed off before finishing his sentence.

Just as she was about to tell him exactly how aggravating that dumbstruck face he kept making was, she too gave pause. Wait. Shit.

“Your raft!” “My raft!” They exclaimed simultaneously.


Foolish told himself that ‘Raft 2.0’ was bigger and therefore better, but it didn’t really dull the grief of watching his first creation drift off into the horizon. And on the bright side, he had company now. Surely two heads would be better than one.

Tina was untarnished flesh and bone. Shiny and new; the sea hadn’t yet marred her skin with the harsh burn of sun exposure, nor the tearing of a predator’s razor-sharp teeth.

But Foolish didn’t really mind. He had been praying to come across another person for weeks now. It hardly mattered the condition she was in, just getting to talk to someone other than himself was relieving enough. But only time would tell if she was truly fit to survive the life of a castaway. He’d just have to be patient and wait to see if she was worth getting his hopes up for. It was hard to hold off though. He’d been alone on the ocean for so long.

“Oh boy, a bountiful harvest!” she chirped in a singsong voice.

She hummed a tune, swinging from side to side as she bent over her new makeshift garden. Her tail was pointed straight in the air, a physical indicator of her already abundantly clear merriment. Foolish blinked a few times before slowly turning back to his fishing pole, unable to comprehend what was so enthusing about a box of dirt and some dusty beetroots. She sure was odd company, but she was company all the same.

Foolish made a whooping sound as he reeled in his first catch of the day, a tilapia thrashing in his hands as its slimy scales glistened in the sun. Tina found his weird caveman-like behavior mildly concerning, but delighted in the meal of any fresh fish he shared with her all the same.