#i haven't watched the monster map episode in a hot minute so if there's some random other canonical origin to the map oh well

[octonauts-lover]

Octo-tober Day 3: Monster

I've wanted to post some Octonauts fanfics for a while now, and Octo-tober seems like a good way to test the waters! I don't plan on posting all of my writing for this event, which is why I'm just now starting at day three :p It's because I finally wrote something (I think) good enough to post. Anyways. This is set right before the Monster Map episode.

(@4eyedloser just in case the tags get weird)

Peso has about a million cousins and uncles and aunts and grandparents. You can see a photo of some of them, in a panorama hung on the wall by his bed. Dashi has her sister. Shellington, a sister of his own, and a nephew. Tweak, her dad, Barnacles, his twin sister, nephew, and niece. Inkling has a nephew as well.

Kwazii, he has his grandad. That he hasn’t seen in years. 

Calico Jack’s quite the character, has been since Kwazii was just a kitten. He’d never go a night without elaborate tales filling the stale air of the ship’s galley. Midnights on a sea of knives.

Adventures, great escapes, and more often than not, monsters. A ship-crushing shallowtooth, a hairy-webbed clockerflock, his daring escapades are what Kwazii sees in his dreams. In his dreams, he’s there with him.

In his dreams, he’s there with him.

Kwazii doesn’t think about where his grandad is. Doesn’t think of what waters he’s in, or… if he’s been swallowed by them. He doesn’t think of his ship, or Pete, or what monster he’s maybe facing now, or of his voice… what Calico Jack, his fearsome, brave, bold pirate grandad, would think of him now. If he was here–if he’s alive–what would he say? What would he not? Hardwood, rope swinging, and fiery gold. Orange sharks, oxygen tanks, and fish biscuits.

When Kwazii woke up that morning, his whiskers pointed him to a map. The pieces clicked. They were in just the right location…

He pounced to open the secret compartment on the top of his coat rack. He yanked the map out, thin and brittle like a roll of cinnamon, one of the last shards of Calico Jack. He’ll find that lost city. Come hell or high water or a colossal yeti-faced terrorknit. No monsters–or memories–would get in the way of this pirate.