Saw multiple posts encouraging artists to lean into the bowser-luigi size difference, so here i go ! (This is loosely based on a pic of them from Mario Odyssey) Bowser is showing him around the castle :)

What if Roman tries to pull a tickle prank with some magical sentient feathers, but it ends up backfiring and he needs the others to come save him from his self-made ticklish doom

Coming right up! Thanks for the prompt!! (also I didn’t mean for this to get so long but also like,,,, it put me in a lee mood and i just kept going lol) (also also, hmm, the other sides didn’t really end up “saving” him, did they, whoops, lol)

Fluttery Feelings

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Ship(s): platonic LAMP

Characters (lee/ler): Lee!Roman, does this count as Ler!Roman since he’s kinda getting himself lol?, Ler!Virgil, Ler!Patton, Ler!Logan (in the sense of teasing)

Word Count: 2227 words

Summary:  Roman had planned the perfect prank for movie night. He just really hadn’t anticipated it backfiring on him.

[ao3 link]

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Roman had been looking for the perfect opportunity for this prank for weeks. He’d had the idea a while ago, and now with Patton placing him in charge of setting up movie night, he had the perfect chance to finally enact it. 

Granted, he hadn’t practiced much with the conjuring he wanted to do, but how hard could it be? He was the creative side! How hard could it be?

It worked out even better that they were using Roman’s realm instead of the common room. Here, he could easier conjure the perfect comfy setup. 

The comfiest pillow fort ever created? Hm, no, save that for next time, they might tear it apart with all their squirming. A warm, plush couch? No, that would make the cuddling that came after a little more awkward, trying to squish on the couch. Plus, it’s easier to fall off of.

Roman settled for a giant mattress in the middle of the room, covered in fuzzy blankets and fluffy pillows. There were fairy lights hung around the walls to give them dim lighting; a bright light would glare on the TV screen, but sitting in pitch black without being able to see each other wasn’t as much fun, either. Half the fun of movie night was making fun of each other’s reactions. The TV itself was massive, with surround sound built into the imaginary walls and ceiling, because he was actually planning to carry on with movie night after his little prank.

Now, time for what he was really excited about: the magic feathers. He figured it would be easier to make them somewhat sentient, enough to target the worst spots of their targets, and enough to stop when the lee wanted it to stop. Of course, this wouldn’t be a fun prank if not everyone involved was laughing and having fun. 

Roman squeezed his eyes shut and imagined really hard to bring the feather’s into existence. He heard a comical, almost cartoonish pop! and opened his eyes to see an army of various types of feathers floating around the room. He grinned at his success.

There were feathers short and tall, fluffy and sharper, thinner and wider. Stems that were flat, stems that were a little rounded, stems that were pointier. All perfect for targeting anyone’s ticklish spots. Roman shivered at the thought.

And then, Roman realized his mistake as all the feather’s, formerly stationary and static and nonthreatening, twisted to face him, suddenly hovering a lot more ominously than before. He really should’ve waited until the others were in the room to do this. Because now there was only one target for them to go after, and just the thought that they could sense that sent Roman straight from his teasing little ler mood straight into a nervous lee mood.

“Now, now,” Roman stupidly tried to reason with the feathers, his voice wobbly with the nervous laughter that he was swallowing. “Let’s–let’s not do anything we’d regret, yes? I mean, I can un-conjure you, after all.”

The feathers, of course, did not have ears, so they were unable to listen to his pitiful arguments to try and save his own skin. If they could hear him, though, they would probably be rather amused.

A number of feather’s broke off from the group, diving for Roman from all angles so he couldn’t even try to dodge them. No matter what direction he turned, there was a feather rushing at him. The rest of the feathers fell to the floor, making Roman’s nervous movements his own downfall.

He accidentally stepped backwards directly into a pile of the feathers, making his shriek at the tickly feeling and stumble backwards through piles, laughing and sputtering, until he collapsed back onto the mattress he’d conjured and the other feathers ceased their teasing dives and actually followed through.

Roman regretted his choice of short pajama shorts and a tank top for movie night. But who didn’t want maximum skin contact when the option of cuddling your loved ones came up? It was just better!

When it came to sentient tickle feathers? Not so much.

Knowing how weak he was to that sort of thing, because they were sentient and somewhat mind-readers, they started off slow and teasing to build everything up to a crescendo. 

His calves and kneecaps, his ribs (even over his shirt, their softness was able to tickle), his outer upper arms were all targeted with gentle touches that made him squeal and wiggle. But, no matter how much he squirmed, the feathers were able to follow his movements everywhere, considering they could fly and their only purpose was to make him wail in ticklish glee agony.

Roman giggled and covered his mouth as he snorted, embarrassed by the sound despite being alone in the room, still. He turned onto his stomach, hoping to protect some of his weak points, but he truly was just making yet another mistake.

The feathers switched positions. They targeted the woefully sensitive skin behind his knees, the bottoms of his feet, and wiggled their way up under his loose tank top to flutter across his back.

Frankly, Roman hadn’t even known his back was ticklish. The other sides had never tried to torment him there before, though he loved getting Logan there under the guise of a soothing massage.

And then Roman remembered: the feathers would stop when he wanted them to stop. When he was sated, or when he was too tired to continue, or any other similar reasons. Roman blushed fiercely in the emptiness of the room. Unless he could bury his lee mood while he was actively being tickled, he was doomed.

Not to mention, since the feathers could vaguely sense his thoughts and feelings to make the prank fun and enjoyable for it’s intended targets, he must’ve had a secret want for his back to be targeted. Which, based on how devastatingly ticklish it was, he didn’t know how no one had targeted him there before.

The feathers on his feet upped the ante, flipping around to scribble against his soles with the stems, to trace the wrinkles when his feet scrunched up, to scratch away at weak points they found. A few more joined the fray from the floor and darted up in between his toes. Roman cried out and pounded the bed, but it didn’t stop there.

The feathers behind his knees sneaked up the backs of his thighs, also calling more of their friends from the floor to join them, fluttering on his outer and inner thighs to make him gasp and wail and cackle. Roman was kicking out and bouncing around on the bed to try and dislodge them, but they followed him wherever he went. In fact, it almost just made things worse, as it gave the feathers the chance to sneak flicks and brushes against the tops of his thighs.

More feathers from the floor joined up his shirt, as well, adding rank to the two on his back, and more coming up to flutter along his sides and ribs once more. Roman already felt like he was losing his mind, but they weren’t stopping, and the bubbly, flustered feeling built in his chest even further, knowing that he was so tickle-hungry.

And then the worst possible thing happened: the door opened and Virgil, Logan, and Patton walked in. They carried snacks and movie choices and even more soft blankets, but none of that mattered in the face of the feathers that still weren’t stopping.

Patton was the first to recover, grinning and setting the snacks in his arms aside. “Aw, Ro, if you wanted tickles all you had to do was ask!”

“No!” Roman tried to yell, but he was laughing so hard that it just came out as a wail of laughter that started with an “n.”

Virgil and Logan set aside their burdens as well, approaching with twin smirks. The bubbly, flustered feeling grew inside of him, and butterflies took shelter inside his belly, tickling him from the inside now, as well.

“We would’ve been happy to help, Roman,” Logan said, not an ounce of tease in his voice, but Roman knew his intention. The ever-widening smirk on his face also didn’t help.

“Y’know,” Virgil said conversationally, “it looks like those feathers are having a little trouble reaching some places because of the bed.”

Logan cocked his head to the side. “It seems you’re right, Virge.”

Patton clapped his hands together, eyes glinting behind his glasses. “Oh, we should help them! Everyone grab a limb!”

Roman struggled and tried to fight back, but the tickling and feathers had weakened him to the point where it wasn’t even a challenge for them. They rolled him over, cooing teases that made Roman’s entire body tingle, and Patton and Virgil grabbed his arms while Logan grabbed both his ankles. They lifted him from the bed, and now there really was no protection.

The feathers circled all around every part of his leg, his feet were coated in their fluff, his back and stomach were now both easily targeted (and a few sneaky feathers kept slipping into his bellybutton, utterly evil). His neck and ears gained a few feathers, making him wish he could turtle up for protection, but the angle his arms were being held up at prevented it. And they finally managed to slip into his worst spot: his armpits.

Roman was hardly even laughing anymore, it was more of an endless, joy-filled scream. His abs ached and his lungs burned, but the teases the other’s kept calling at him over his noises just kept him in his mood and had him craving more.

“Not fair!” Roman tried to yell, but he wasn’t sure if it came out around his laughter.

“Aww, poor Ro-Ro can’t take it?” Virgil cooed.

“Oh, he’s so cute!” Patton squealed. “Tickle-tickle-tickle, laffy taffy!

“You could stop the feathers at any time, Roman, really, come now,” Logan said with a grin.

Roman shook his head at that one. Logan raised an eyebrow, sneaking a tweak to Roman’s ankles to made him jolt.

“Oh, really? I know better than that, Roman. You’ve put a failsafe in.”

He did put a failsafe in, he just hadn’t reached it yet. And now, when he finally did, they would make him tell them what it was. And gosh, there was that flustered bubble growing ever larger and making him all the more sensitive. He really had dug his own grave, this time.

The tickling went on for several more long minutes, before the feathers eventually fluttered away to the ground and left Roman panting and wheezing and still laughing from the phantom tingles he felt all over. The other three placed his gently back on the mattress and Roman curled up in a ball as he calmed down.

A hand appeared in his hair to scratch at his scalp comfortingly, and another on his back, rubbing firmly enough that it didn’t tickle. After a moment, another hand tilted his head up and his lips connected to a water bottle. He drank greedily for a minute before laying back down to giggle himself out. After a few minutes of recovery, Roman sat up and allowed the others to gather around him in a gentle cuddle.

“Finally get all tickled out?” Virgil teased, and Roman curled in with another giggle when the feathers coating the floor shifted slightly. Virgil grinned at him.

Roman took a moment to focus and un-conjure the feathers before speaking. “They, uh, they weren’t originally meant for me,” he admitted nervously.

“Roman,” Patton said, a warning tone in his voice that Roman knew was more teasing than angry. “Were you gonna send those feathers on us when we came in so we got tickled silly?”

“Maybe?” Roman squeaked.

Logan shook his head with a fond smile. “If I didn’t think you’d already had enough, I would tickle you as punishment.”

“What went wrong?” Virgil asked.

Roman rubbed the back of his neck with a nervous smile. “Uh, they were vaguely sentient. And vaguely mind-reading. So I didn’t really have control over them.”

Patton scrunched up his face. “Mind re–oh, you adorable little silly boy!”

“What?” Virgil asked.

Logan’s fond smile turned into a teasing grin. “Roman sent himself into a lee mood by just seeing the feathers, and they picked up on it and targeted him.”

Virgil chuckled and cuddled in closer. “Aww, and they just wouldn’t stop until you were sated, would they, giggle monster?”

Roman blushed. “Actually, yeah.”

Patton squealed. “That’s so cute! I know we all love every side of tickling, but you wanted it so much, you’re adorable Ro-Ro!”

“No!” Roman whined, drawing out the word.

“Tooth-rottingly sweet,” Virgil cooed in his ear, making him squirm.

“Cutest in all the land,” Logan hummed.

“You all suck,” Roman grumbled into his hands.

Patton giggled and kissed the top of his head. “Oh, alright, we’ll let up. Let’s put on a movie.”

After choosing randomly, the movie they put on was Tangled. the four of them made a nest on the mattress, moving around blankets and pillows to perfectly huddle down in as their little cuddle unit. Roman sighed and wiggled down further into the pile with a smile.

He drifted off before Rapunzel and Eugene even got to the Ugly Duckling.

8 - The weight of being the Guardian

AO3

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Chapter 8 - Time for patrol

Ladybug landed a few meters away from where Chat Noir laid staring at the sky with his hands under his head. She approached carefully to not disturb him and laid beside him inhaling the cool night air. She studied his profile; it hadn’t the soft look of someone stargazing. Instead, it held a serious expression, his jaw clenching and unclenching every now and then.

“A penny for your thoughts, Kitty” Ladybug said averting her eyes from him.

“The akuma today. That little boy seemed so lonely. It’s not that I’m judging his parents, it’s just… the woman that came to pick him up was his babysitter. She admitted that his parents have been giving too much attention to the baby and leaving him out.”

He didn’t elaborate, it was clear that it was a painful subject for him. He was projecting his own life into the situation. Ladybug understood why he was so tense. Gabriel filled her mind, his cold demeanor, his lack of involvement in Adrien’s life. How many fencing competitions Gabriel had failed to show up? He had never been to school, always sending Nathalie in his place. Adrien almost never complained, but she had seen him in many of his fragile moments to know better. She shook her head to clear her mind. Perhaps one day she would be able to talk to him about his home life, but not today.

“I’m not going to judge them either, but if I were in their place I’d try to include him in the care with the baby. Ask his help, maybe when it’s bath time; small things so he could feel helpful.” She smiled imagining the scene.

“Is that how your parents acted with you?” Chat gasped. “I’m sorry. I…”

“I’m an only child.” She chuckled seeing his surprise for her sharing personal information. “It’s not like you can figure me out just by that.”

“You never know.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “Just kidding,” Chat laughed and returned his gaze to the sky with a much softer expression. “If I were in his father’s place I would try to give him all the time I could, play with him, help the mother with him.” He stopped a bit to think. “I would take care of the baby too so my wife could spend some alone time with him as well.”

Ladybug closed her eyes feeling her throat constrict. His wife. How did their conversation get to this point? It was so easy to imagine him doing those domestic things. Not long ago she had imagined him building a pillow fort and then reading to their kids making voices; she would join them with the food she’d have prepared. Maybe at that time he had imagined something similar, raising a family with Ladybug. Now she had no idea who he was imagining as his wife. It wasn’t even Kagami for what she knew.

Her eyes flew open as she remembered that Ladybug wasn’t supposed to know about his decision to remain only friends with Kagami.

“Wife, hum? Thinking that far ahead with your girlfriend?” She put as much as teasing on her voice as she could muster.

“She isn’t my girlfriend.” He sighed and just a few seconds later he sat up facing Ladybug. “Oh, you meant Kagami. I decided against dating her.”

“You’re confusing me. Who were you thinking of?” She sat up as well, his admission of thinking about another girl as his wife plaguing her mind.

“Sorry, it’s confusing for me too. Let me try to explain.” Ladybug nodded for him to continue. “So, last time we talked you said that I should date Kagami but I wasn’t so sure about it. I don’t love her. She is a nice girl and we have so much in common that I feel good being around her. I didn’t feel like that was enough, though. So I went for another opinion.” He said a look of guilt on his features for not following her advice.

“It’s ok that you looked for someone else’s opinion. You had all the right to do so. It’s something important. I’m the one sorry here for just hum… pushing you to Kagami, I guess. I just want you to be happy.” He visibly relaxed as she gave him an apologetic smile.

“I know you do and I want you to be happy too.” He changed his position so he wasn’t facing her anymore. He brought his knees up to his chest and hugged his legs. “So, as I was waiting for my best friend to ask his opinion I encountered another friend and asked hers instead. She encouraged me too and that caught me off guard. Not because of her answer, she is always supporting her friends and has joined some couples after all.” He glanced briefly at Ladybug as she sat there in silence trying to understand what he was saying. “I realized that I wanted her to stop me from dating Kagami and tell me to date her instead.” He laughed dryly “What a foolish thought, I know.”

Ladybug couldn’t believe her ears. She surely hasn’t understood him right. “You l-like your friend?” she stammered.

“I think I have for a while. I was just too blind to realize my feelings for her because I had all my thoughts on you. I even rejected her because of you.” He buried his face between his knees and kept silent.

Ladybug didn’t say anything. Too busy wrapping her mind around that new information. He loved her. All of her. Her doubts of whether he had dated Marinette just because she was Ladybug in the Chat Blanc timeline falling to pieces. Her heart clenched, without knowing how Hawkmoth discovered their identities she would have to reject him if he tried to confess to her. It took all of her self control to hold back the tears. When he finally loved her back, she couldn’t love him. In what world was that fair? Where was her luck?

“When are you going to confess to her?” She managed to keep her voice somewhat steady to ask. She wanted to be, at least, prepared.

“I won’t”.

“What?” The genuine surprise in her voice caused him to raise his head and look at her.

“My best friend suggested me to wait a few days because of the situation with Kagami and then ask her out. But I don’t think that it’s a good idea. She doesn’t like me like that. She said that multiple times. And there’s the fact that she helped me with Kagami. Why would she help me with another girl if she liked me?”

“You have a point,” she said hiding the truth.

“She is completely out of my reach.” He heaved a sigh and faced her again. “Well, that’s not why we’re here. Let’s get to the important things.” Ladybug was marveled at how fast he schooled his face and hid his feelings.

Ladybug sighed too. “The miraculous holders.”

“It’s not safe for them, now that Hawkmoth knows who they are. Have you thought about a solution yet?”

She nodded. “I think that, for now, we could use multiple miraculous ourselves when needed. Like we did against Miracle Queen.”

“That was a hard thing to do. With the Snake Miraculous, I had to do most of the planning and I’m not particularly good at it.”

Ladybug snorted “I think you did an amazing job.” Imagining that his answer could have been influenced by their recent talk about Aspik, she added “You will probably have to use other Miraculous too, like the turtle. And it would be temporary until we find other holders or another solution.”

“Yeah! You’re right. But I gave it a thought too.”

“Great! What’s your idea?” Ladybug perked up. It was good to brainstorm with him.

“We can’t give the Miraculous back to the people that used them before because Hawkmoth knows who they are, right?” She nodded. “I already knew some of their identities, so, me knowing it’s not a problem.”

“No, it’s not. What’s your point?” She was getting impatient.

“Ok. When you gave the Mouse Miraculous to Marinette the only one who saw her detransform was me.”

“I can’t give the Miraculous back to her” Ladybug said trying to contain her panic. She should have expected that.

“Why not? Hawkmoth doesn’t know who she is and she did a great job. It’s perfect.” He looked at her confused when she got up and started to pace.

“It’s not perfect. She was reckless; I can’t have her putting us at risk.”

Chat Noir got up and towered over her. “Reckless? Just because she assumed that I could know who she was?” He glared at her.

“She shouldn’t have assumed that,” Ladybug said struggling to find a reasonable excuse.

“Both Kagami and Chloe let Hawkmoth know their identities and yet you gave them back the Miraculous.”

“And look where that led us. Chloe betrayed us.” She spat.

“Don’t compare Marinette with Chloe.” He practically growled.

Ladybug fought the urge to cringe and stepped forward tilting her head up in defiance. “I’m not giving a Miraculous to the girl you like. I can’t risk you putting yourself or her in danger because of your feelings.”

She hasn’t realized that she was projecting Chat Blanc’s feelings into her words until Chat Noir looked at her with the same ice-cold glare that his akumatized self wore. He narrowed his eyes clenching his jaw.

“Well, you’re the Guardian. You make the rules. You know where to find me if you need me.” He turned on his heels and jumped from the roof.

Ladybug stayed frozen in place. Having a double life was never easy but now it seemed that she was walking on eggshells. Or better saying, on a minefield, judging by his reaction. “How am I going to fix this?”

The Choice

Leo/Raph Week Prompt: I’m here

He didn’t know how he got here. He just knew it was dark and he was alone. He shouldn’t be alone, though, right? There should be someone else beside him. He could feel their absence more strongly than he could feel his fear about this unknown place. Why couldn’t he remember who he was missing? And perhaps more importantly, where were they?

Then there was a small light in the distance. He tried to take a step backwards as he realized the light was moving towards him, but suddenly realized he was unable to move. He was formless. No legs. No arms. No body. It was just his mind here, floating in this black space, similar to the light that was floating closer and closer to him.

Unable to move anyway, he waited until the light was in front him. The light was warm, meant to be comforting, and chased away the cold, dark dread he’d been feeling moments before. And before he could ask any questions, the lighted creature spoke.

“I am here to help you choose your next step.”

“What next step?”

“It is time to choose a path for your next life.”

“Choose?”

“Yes. This choice is a privilege earned after your sacrifices in your previous life.”  

“I died,” he said softly.

“And now it is time to live again. Would you like to hear your choices? There are two.”

“Yes,” he said, weakly. Because there it was again, that pain of missing someone. Of not being able to see or touch or talk to the one he was supposed to be with right now. But why couldn’t he picture them? Why couldn’t he pull up their face? And if he was dead, were they okay? He couldn’t even remember how he died. Had he been alone then? Or had they been with him?

He tried to push the painful thoughts away as the creature began to speak again. If this little meeting was a special reward, he should probably pay attention.

“The first choice is one of ease and contentment as a turtle. This life will feature happy swims and basking in the sun on rocks in a private lake near a farmhouse. There will be plenty to eat. You will not be alone and will, in fact, help produce offspring with random, nearby turtles. And you will live a long and healthy life.”

His mind did the equivalent of a frown as he thought about this option. It sounded – nice enough? So why did he feel like there was a catch?

“What’s the second option?”

“The second option is to also begin as a turtle. But your form will change due to an outside source and leave you to live as a blend of both turtle and human. However, you will be unable to live in the world of either a human or a wild turtle, as you will belong to neither entirely. Instead, you will remain underground and in the shadows.”

The lighted creature paused and considered the being to which they had been tasked to present these choices. Although the two choices so far seemed drastically different with one outweighing the other in positivity, making it an easy choice for most, this mid-life future turtle was still thoughtfully considering both options. The lighted creature had been doing this for many centuries, and they could recognize that this ability to calculate and weigh choices would serve this particular being well in his future life.

“However,” the creature continued, “although you will be an outsider to both humans and turtles, you will not be alone. You will be given your soulmate right from the start.”

His contemplation regarding the two words suddenly came to a halt as his consciousness was suddenly jolted with the image of sharp, bright green eyes.

There he was. That’s who Leo was missing. The pain of missing him grew more defined now that he had those eyes to focus on. There was a warm smirk now aimed at him. And the sensation of warm, familiar fingers sliding over his skin. His mind shuddered with want.

The lighted creature nodded and began to speak again. “Yes. Him. He will always be there to love and guard over you, as you will love and guard over him. A necessity because there will be much adversity in this life choice. You will have the potential to be a hero. But you will not be guaranteed a long life in that setting. There will be many battles, wars, injuries, and heartache.”

Leonardo heard what the creature was saying. The words rolled over him in prickly waves. But those green eyes didn’t leave his mind for a second.

“Battles and wars,” Leo said slowly, “but I’d still have him?”

“Yes.”

“That’s the one I choose. Please send me there.”

“I believe that is a wise choice,” the creature said as the light in front of Leo began to dim, “since that is the one he chose as well.”

Leonardo startled awake with a loud gasp and a jolt upright. He struggled with the sheets wrapped around his waist in the darkness, suddenly feeling constrained in the space.

“Leo?”

Leo twisted when he heard that sleep-filled voice and stared down at the large turtle who had been right by his side over the past thirty-six years. He reached out – and was thankful to find he actually had a form and a hand for which could accomplish this goal – and shook Raphael’s shoulder until Raph was forced to blearily open his eyes.

Leo stopped shaking him at that. All he needed was to see those bright green eyes shining up at him through the darkness and suddenly his lungs remembered how to work. He drew in a few deep breaths.

Raphael frowned at his sudden, erratic breathing and pulled on Leo’s arm until the other turtle slid back down into their bed and curled against him.  

“Yer okay,” Raphael rumbled as he pulled Leo even closer and began to trace over the patterns of Leo’s shell in a soothing manner. “Yer okay,” he repeated as he felt Leo’s muscles relent and relax against him. “I’m here,” he said as Leo’s breaths began to finally slow.

“Yes,” Leo said, the distant event he'd seen in his dream already wisping away from his mind. “Because I’ll always choose you.”

Half of Raph’s mouth quirked up in a soft smile as he cupped Leo’s face and lifted it so he could kiss him slowly and with purpose before replying.

“Me too.”

The Lightning Bolts of Captain Nemo

WITHOUT STANDING UP, we stared in the direction of the forest, my hand stopping halfway to my mouth, Ned Land's completing its assignment. "Stones don't fall from the sky," Conseil said, "or else they deserve to be called meteorites." A second well-polished stone removed a tasty ringdove leg from Conseil's hand, giving still greater relevance to his observation. We all three stood up, rifles to our shoulders, ready to answer any attack. "Apes maybe?" Ned Land exclaimed. "Nearly," Conseil replied. "Savages." "Head for the skiff!" I said, moving toward the sea. Indeed, it was essential to beat a retreat because some twenty natives, armed with bows and slings, appeared barely a hundred paces off, on the outskirts of a thicket that masked the horizon to our right. The skiff was aground ten fathoms away from us. The savages approached without running, but they favored us with a show of the greatest hostility. It was raining stones and arrows. Ned Land was unwilling to leave his provisions behind, and despite the impending danger, he clutched his pig on one side, his kangaroos on the other, and scampered off with respectable speed. In two minutes we were on the strand. Loading provisions and weapons into the skiff, pushing it to sea, and positioning its two oars were the work of an instant. We hadn't gone two cable lengths when a hundred savages, howling and gesticulating, entered the water up to their waists. I looked to see if their appearance might draw some of the Nautilus's men onto the platform. But no. Lying well out, that enormous machine still seemed completely deserted. Twenty minutes later we boarded ship. The hatches were open. After mooring the skiff, we reentered the Nautilus's interior. I went below to the lounge, from which some chords were wafting. Captain Nemo was there, leaning over the organ, deep in a musical trance. "Captain!" I said to him. He didn't hear me. "Captain!" I went on, touching him with my hand. He trembled, and turning around: "Ah, it's you, professor!" he said to me. "Well, did you have a happy hunt? Was your herb gathering a success?" "Yes, captain," I replied, "but unfortunately we've brought back a horde of bipeds whose proximity worries me." "What sort of bipeds?" "Savages." "Savages!" Captain Nemo replied in an ironic tone. "You set foot on one of the shores of this globe, professor, and you're surprised to find savages there? Where aren't there savages? And besides, are they any worse than men elsewhere, these people you call savages?" "But captain - " "Speaking for myself, sir, I've encountered them everywhere." "Well then," I replied, "if you don't want to welcome them aboard the Nautilus, you'd better take some precautions!" "Easy, professor, no cause for alarm." "But there are a large number of these natives." "What's your count?" "At least a hundred." "Professor Aronnax," replied Captain Nemo, whose fingers took their places again on the organ keys, "if every islander in Papua were to gather on that beach, the Nautilus would still have nothing to fear from their attacks!" The captain's fingers then ran over the instrument's keyboard, and I noticed that he touched only its black keys, which gave his melodies a basically Scottish color. Soon he had forgotten my presence and was lost in a reverie that I no longer tried to dispel. I climbed onto the platform. Night had already fallen, because in this low latitude the sun sets quickly, without any twilight. I could see Gueboroa Island only dimly. But numerous fires had been kindled on the beach, attesting that the natives had no thoughts of leaving it. For several hours I was left to myself, sometimes musing on the islanders-but no longer fearing them because the captain's unflappable confidence had won me over - and sometimes forgetting them to marvel at the splendors of this tropical night. My memories took wing toward France, in the wake of those zodiacal stars due to twinkle over it in a few hours. The moon shone in the midst of the constellations at their zenith. I then remembered that this loyal, good-natured satellite would return to this same place the day after tomorrow, to raise the tide and tear the Nautilus from its coral bed. Near midnight, seeing that all was quiet over the darkened waves as well as under the waterside trees, I repaired to my cabin and fell into a peaceful sleep. The night passed without mishap. No doubt the Papuans had been frightened off by the mere sight of this monster aground in the bay, because our hatches stayed open, offering easy access to the Nautilus's interior. At six o'clock in the morning, January 8, I climbed onto the platform. The morning shadows were lifting. The island was soon on view through the dissolving mists, first its beaches, then its summits. The islanders were still there, in greater numbers than on the day before, perhaps 500 or 600 of them. Taking advantage of the low tide, some of them had moved forward over the heads of coral to within two cable lengths of the Nautilus. I could easily distinguish them. They obviously were true Papuans, men of fine stock, athletic in build, forehead high and broad, nose large but not flat, teeth white. Their woolly, red-tinted hair was in sharp contrast to their bodies, which were black and glistening like those of Nubians. Beneath their pierced, distended earlobes there dangled strings of beads made from bone. Generally these savages were naked. I noted some women among them, dressed from hip to knee in grass skirts held up by belts made of vegetation. Some of the chieftains adorned their necks with crescents and with necklaces made from beads of red and white glass. Armed with bows, arrows, and shields, nearly all of them carried from their shoulders a sort of net, which held those polished stones their slings hurl with such dexterity. One of these chieftains came fairly close to the Nautilus, examining it with care. He must have been a "mado" of high rank, because he paraded in a mat of banana leaves that had ragged edges and was accented with bright colors. I could easily have picked off this islander, he stood at such close range; but I thought it best to wait for an actual show of hostility. Between Europeans and savages, it's acceptable for Europeans to shoot back but not to attack first. During this whole time of low tide, the islanders lurked near the Nautilus, but they weren't boisterous. I often heard them repeat the word "assai," and from their gestures I understood they were inviting me to go ashore, an invitation I felt obliged to decline. So the skiff didn't leave shipside that day, much to the displeasure of Mr. Land who couldn't complete his provisions. The adroit Canadian spent his time preparing the meat and flour products he had brought from Gueboroa Island. As for the savages, they went back to shore near eleven o'clock in the morning, when the heads of coral began to disappear under the waves of the rising tide. But I saw their numbers swell considerably on the beach. It was likely that they had come from neighboring islands or from the mainland of Papua proper. However, I didn't see one local dugout canoe. Having nothing better to do, I decided to dredge these beautiful, clear waters, which exhibited a profusion of shells, zoophytes, and open-sea plants. Besides, it was the last day the Nautilus would spend in these waterways, if, tomorrow, it still floated off to the open sea as Captain Nemo had promised. So I summoned Conseil, who brought me a small, light dragnet similar to those used in oyster fishing. "What about these savages?" Conseil asked me. "With all due respect to master, they don't strike me as very wicked!" "They're cannibals even so, my boy." "A person can be both a cannibal and a decent man," Conseil replied, "just as a person can be both gluttonous and honorable. The one doesn't exclude the other." "Fine, Conseil! And I agree that there are honorable cannibals who decently devour their prisoners. However, I'm opposed to being devoured, even in all decency, so I'll keep on my guard, especially since the Nautilus's commander seems to be taking no precautions. And now let's get to work!" For two hours our fishing proceeded energetically but without bringing up any rarities. Our dragnet was filled with Midas abalone, harp shells, obelisk snails, and especially the finest hammer shells I had seen to that day. We also gathered in a few sea cucumbers, some pearl oysters, and a dozen small turtles that we saved for the ship's pantry. But just when I least expected it, I laid my hands on a wonder, a natural deformity I'd have to call it, something very seldom encountered. Conseil had just made a cast of the dragnet, and his gear had come back up loaded with a variety of fairly ordinary seashells, when suddenly he saw me plunge my arms swiftly into the net, pull out a shelled animal, and give a conchological yell, in other words, the most piercing yell a human throat can produce. "Eh? What happened to master?" Conseil asked, very startled. "Did master get bitten?" "No, my boy, but I'd gladly have sacrificed a finger for such a find!" "What find?" "This shell," I said, displaying the subject of my triumph. "But that's simply an olive shell of the 'tent olive' species, genus Oliva, order Pectinibranchia, class Gastropoda, branch Mollusca - " "Yes, yes, Conseil! But instead of coiling from right to left, this olive shell rolls from left to right!" "It can't be!" Conseil exclaimed. "Yes, my boy, it's a left-handed shell!" "A left-handed shell!" Conseil repeated, his heart pounding. "Look at its spiral!" "Oh, master can trust me on this," Conseil said, taking the valuable shell in trembling hands, "but never have I felt such excitement!" And there was good reason to be excited! In fact, as naturalists have ventured to observe, "dextrality" is a well-known law of nature. In their rotational and orbital movements, stars and their satellites go from right to left. Man uses his right hand more often than his left, and consequently his various instruments and equipment (staircases, locks, watch springs, etc.) are designed to be used in a right-to-left manner. Now then, nature has generally obeyed this law in coiling her shells. They're right-handed with only rare exceptions, and when by chance a shell's spiral is left-handed, collectors will pay its weight in gold for it. So Conseil and I were deep in the contemplation of our treasure, and I was solemnly promising myself to enrich the Paris Museum with it, when an ill-timed stone, hurled by one of the islanders, whizzed over and shattered the valuable object in Conseil's hands. I gave a yell of despair! Conseil pounced on his rifle and aimed at a savage swinging a sling just ten meters away from him. I tried to stop him, but his shot went off and shattered a bracelet of amulets dangling from the islander's arm. "Conseil!" I shouted. "Conseil!" "Eh? What? Didn't master see that this man-eater initiated the attack?" "A shell isn't worth a human life!" I told him. "Oh, the rascal!" Conseil exclaimed. "I'd rather he cracked my shoulder!" Conseil was in dead earnest, but I didn't subscribe to his views. However, the situation had changed in only a short time and we hadn't noticed. Now some twenty dugout canoes were surrounding the Nautilus. Hollowed from tree trunks, these dugouts were long, narrow, and well designed for speed, keeping their balance by means of two bamboo poles that floated on the surface of the water. They were maneuvered by skillful, half-naked paddlers, and I viewed their advance with definite alarm. It was obvious these Papuans had already entered into relations with Europeans and knew their ships. But this long, iron cylinder lying in the bay, with no masts or funnels - what were they to make of it? Nothing good, because at first they kept it at a respectful distance. However, seeing that it stayed motionless, they regained confidence little by little and tried to become more familiar with it. Now then, it was precisely this familiarity that we needed to prevent. Since our weapons made no sound when they went off, they would have only a moderate effect on these islanders, who reputedly respect nothing but noisy mechanisms. Without thunderclaps, lightning bolts would be much less frightening, although the danger lies in the flash, not the noise. Just then the dugout canoes drew nearer to the Nautilus, and a cloud of arrows burst over us. "Fire and brimstone, it's hailing!" Conseil said. "And poisoned hail perhaps!" "We've got to alert Captain Nemo," I said, reentering the hatch. I went below to the lounge. I found no one there. I ventured a knock at the door opening into the captain's stateroom. The word "Enter!" answered me. I did so and found Captain Nemo busy with calculations in which there was no shortage of X and other algebraic signs. "Am I disturbing you?" I said out of politeness. "Correct, Professor Aronnax," the captain answered me. "But I imagine you have pressing reasons for looking me up?" "Very pressing. Native dugout canoes are surrounding us, and in a few minutes we're sure to be assaulted by several hundred savages." "Ah!" Captain Nemo put in serenely. "They've come in their dugouts?" "Yes, sir." "Well, sir, closing the hatches should do the trick." "Precisely, and that's what I came to tell you - " "Nothing easier," Captain Nemo said. And he pressed an electric button, transmitting an order to the crew's quarters. "There, sir, all under control!" he told me after a few moments. "The skiff is in place and the hatches are closed. I don't imagine you're worried that these gentlemen will stave in walls that shells from your frigate couldn't breach?" "No, captain, but one danger still remains." "What's that, sir?" "Tomorrow at about this time, we'll need to reopen the hatches to renew the Nautilus's air." "No argument, sir, since our craft breathes in the manner favored by cetaceans." "But if these Papuans are occupying the platform at that moment, I don't see how you can prevent them from entering." "Then, sir, you assume they'll board the ship?" "I'm certain of it." "Well, sir, let them come aboard. I see no reason to prevent them. Deep down they're just poor devils, these Papuans, and I don't want my visit to Gueboroa Island to cost the life of a single one of these unfortunate people!" On this note I was about to withdraw; but Captain Nemo detained me and invited me to take a seat next to him. He questioned me with interest on our excursions ashore and on our hunting, but seemed not to understand the Canadian's passionate craving for red meat. Then our conversation skimmed various subjects, and without being more forthcoming, Captain Nemo proved more affable. Among other things, we came to talk of the Nautilus's circumstances, aground in the same strait where Captain Dumont d'Urville had nearly miscarried. Then, pertinent to this: "He was one of your great seamen," the captain told me, "one of your shrewdest navigators, that d'Urville! He was the Frenchman's Captain Cook. A man wise but unlucky! Braving the ice banks of the South Pole, the coral of Oceania, the cannibals of the Pacific, only to perish wretchedly in a train wreck! If that energetic man was able to think about his life in its last seconds, imagine what his final thoughts must have been!" As he spoke, Captain Nemo seemed deeply moved, an emotion I felt was to his credit. Then, chart in hand, we returned to the deeds of the French navigator: his voyages to circumnavigate the globe, his double attempt at the South Pole, which led to his discovery of the Adelie Coast and the Louis-Philippe Peninsula, finally his hydrographic surveys of the chief islands in Oceania. "What your d'Urville did on the surface of the sea," Captain Nemo told me, "I've done in the ocean's interior, but more easily, more completely than he. Constantly tossed about by hurricanes, the Zealous and the new Astrolabe couldn't compare with the Nautilus, a quiet work room truly at rest in the midst of the waters!" "Even so, captain," I said, "there is one major similarity between Dumont d'Urville's sloops of war and the Nautilus." "What's that, sir?" "Like them, the Nautilus has run aground!" "The Nautilus is not aground, sir," Captain Nemo replied icily. "The Nautilus was built to rest on the ocean floor, and I don't need to undertake the arduous labors, the maneuvers d'Urville had to attempt in order to float off his sloops of war. The Zealous and the new Astrolabe wellnigh perished, but my Nautilus is in no danger. Tomorrow, on the day stated and at the hour stated, the tide will peacefully lift it off, and it will resume its navigating through the seas." "Captain," I said, "I don't doubt - " "Tomorrow," Captain Nemo added, standing up, "tomorrow at 2:40 in the afternoon, the Nautilus will float off and exit the Torres Strait undamaged." Pronouncing these words in an extremely sharp tone, Captain Nemo gave me a curt bow. This was my dismissal, and I reentered my stateroom. There I found Conseil, who wanted to know the upshot of my interview with the captain. "My boy," I replied, "when I expressed the belief that these Papuan natives were a threat to his Nautilus, the captain answered me with great irony. So I've just one thing to say to you: have faith in him and sleep in peace." "Master has no need for my services?" "No, my friend. What's Ned Land up to?" "Begging master's indulgence," Conseil replied, "but our friend Ned is concocting a kangaroo pie that will be the eighth wonder!" I was left to myself; I went to bed but slept pretty poorly. I kept hearing noises from the savages, who were stamping on the platform and letting out deafening yells. The night passed in this way, without the crew ever emerging from their usual inertia. They were no more disturbed by the presence of these man-eaters than soldiers in an armored fortress are troubled by ants running over the armor plate. I got up at six o'clock in the morning. The hatches weren't open. So the air inside hadn't been renewed; but the air tanks were kept full for any eventuality and would function appropriately to shoot a few cubic meters of oxygen into the Nautilus's thin atmosphere. I worked in my stateroom until noon without seeing Captain Nemo even for an instant. Nobody on board seemed to be making any preparations for departure. I still waited for a while, then I made my way to the main lounge. Its timepiece marked 2:30. In ten minutes the tide would reach its maximum elevation, and if Captain Nemo hadn't made a rash promise, the Nautilus would immediately break free. If not, many months might pass before it could leave its coral bed. But some preliminary vibrations could soon be felt over the boat's hull. I heard its plating grind against the limestone roughness of that coral base. At 2:35 Captain Nemo appeared in the lounge. "We're about to depart," he said. "Ah!" I put in. "I've given orders to open the hatches." "What about the Papuans?" "What about them?" Captain Nemo replied, with a light shrug of his shoulders. "Won't they come inside the Nautilus?" "How will they manage that?" "By jumping down the hatches you're about to open." "Professor Aronnax," Captain Nemo replied serenely, "the Nautilus's hatches aren't to be entered in that fashion even when they're open." I gaped at the captain. "You don't understand?" he said to me. "Not in the least." "Well, come along and you'll see!" I headed to the central companionway. There, very puzzled, Ned Land and Conseil watched the crewmen opening the hatches, while a frightful clamor and furious shouts resounded outside. The hatch lids fell back onto the outer plating. Twenty horrible faces appeared. But when the first islander laid hands on the companionway railing, he was flung backward by some invisible power, lord knows what! He ran off, howling in terror and wildly prancing around. Ten of his companions followed him. All ten met the same fate. Conseil was in ecstasy. Carried away by his violent instincts, Ned Land leaped up the companionway. But as soon as his hands seized the railing, he was thrown backward in his turn. "Damnation!" he exclaimed. "I've been struck by a lightning bolt!" These words explained everything to me. It wasn't just a railing that led to the platform, it was a metal cable fully charged with the ship's electricity. Anyone who touched it got a fearsome shock-and such a shock would have been fatal if Captain Nemo had thrown the full current from his equipment into this conducting cable! It could honestly be said that he had stretched between himself and his assailants a network of electricity no one could clear with impunity. Meanwhile, crazed with terror, the unhinged Papuans beat a retreat. As for us, half laughing, we massaged and comforted poor Ned Land, who was swearing like one possessed. But just then, lifted off by the tide's final undulations, the Nautilus left its coral bed at exactly that fortieth minute pinpointed by the captain. Its propeller churned the waves with lazy majesty. Gathering speed little by little, the ship navigated on the surface of the ocean, and safe and sound, it left behind the dangerous narrows of the Torres Strait.