Definitively that’s not Richard Parker.
Seriously, I have a feeling this fandom still hadn’t messed with Life of Pi movie. Well, why not? >:) I’d like to read about Charles trapped for 277 days in a boat with a feral!Erik.
But once “Pi” is a greek letter, that would be ridiculously easy to mess even more with such prompt and write “Life of Omega”. Yes. Omega!Charles spending 277 days alone with an alpha in the damn boat.
(I just spent months out of tumblr, and my
fist first art to be posted is this…)
ASTASIA YOU ARE BACK I AM SO HAPPY
Okay this is just a little ridiculous snippet. It is not going anywhere.
"Ow." The alpha rubbed his head and had the nerve, the nerve, to glower at Charles like somehow their current state—Charles crouched in the bow of the lifeboat, the alpha hunched in the stern, nursing the beginnings of a bruised temple—was Charles’s fault.
"Just because I hit you with the oar does not make me the guilty moral agent here,” Charles said. He brandished the oar to emphasize his point; the alpha watched it warily. “You were the one who started… who started growling.”
When dealing with alphas, Charles had discovered, it was best to be firm right off the bat. Or, he supposed, right off the oar. Some linguistically-challenged moron in ancient Greece might have got it into their head that omega meant last physically, mentally, and morally, but science and rational thought had proven otherwise, and if some alphas needed that, literally, beaten into them… well, Charles was quite happy to volunteer.
While he watched, the alpha retired further into the back of the boat, warily eyeing the oar. At least the low rumbling Charles heard over the thwap-bounce of the waves against the lifeboat’s hull sounded more like complaining than feral, possessive growling.
"If you must know," the alpha said, sounding entirely too aggrieved to have learned his lesson, "that wasn’t me growling, it was my stomach. We’ve been in this boat for twelve hours now, and I’m hungry.”
"I’m hungry," the alpha said slowly, in the tone of voice that sounded far too much like it had a silent irrational omega attached to it for Charles to feel at ease. He hefted the oar again. The alpha added, with a bit more respect, “You have the emergency kit up on your half of the boat. Can I at least have an energy bar, or are you going to starve me until I die so you can cannibalize me?”
"I would barely get any meat off you," Charles retorted, even though under the ruined tuxedo trousers and mostly-gone undershirt the alpha was promisingly muscled, curves of it over a wiry frame.
He shook his head. They would have to figure out something about collecting and desalinating water and devising some kind of shelter. The sun and dehydration were clearly beginning to get to him.
"It would be inconvenient to have to roll your corpse over the side," Charles said. "And maybe, I don’t know, you could help catch fish. So here" Careful to keep the oar out of the alpha’s reach, he fumbled in the emergency kit and tossed a packet at the alpha, who caught it expertly.
"Thanks," said the alpha through a mouthful of energy bar. Charles thought he was going to eat the whole thing, but instead the alpha ate half and tossed the rest back to Charles. The alpha tucked himself down in a corner of the stern and watched Charles as he ate, an appraising expression that Charles tried to ignore.
"You have a good arm," the alpha said grudgingly. His expression brightened, to something more fierce than irritated; Charles needed a moment to recognize it as approval. "That’s a good sign. A strong fighter."
How, Charles sighed as he swallowed his energy bar, was it possible that this was his life.