hey ladies and gaydies, we stayin safe? Casually watching our government crumble? anyways, it's me, kat, your local bisexual nb with another chapter of the psychic dinosaur au because goddamn I will finish it if it kills me. I wrote this chapter entirely at 4 am during nightshift at work so apologies if it's not the most coherent lol


Owen can feel Isla Sorna before he sees it.

Even with the anchor of his pack pulling at him in the back of his head, a warm weight that keeps him buoyed against the flood of the wild animals of Site B, he feels the rush of them crash against his mind like a wave breaking on a boulder, a heavy tide that makes his hands clench tightly onto the side of the vessel. He'd gotten so used to the tamed, dull pressure of the park animals that he had forgotten that the Isla Sorna animals, unbothered by humans as they've been over the years, feel vastly different than anything he's ever felt in his life- even the wild animals on the mainland don't feel so deafeningly untethered, their minds ancient and devastating, and it makes Owen feel nauseous and excited in equal measure.

He startles when he feels someone brush against him and turns to find Barry gently bumping shoulders with him, dark eyes settled on the horizon, the peaks of the island beginning to rise into view, emerald against the pale blue of the sea.

"Keeping that head of yours on your shoulders?" he asks teasingly, and Owen grins a little ruefully at him.

"The girls are helping; I was afraid I wouldn't be able to feel them this far out", Owen admits, turning back to gaze at the slowly growing island, the quiet background noise of his pack keeping a headache that had blindsided him last time he'd been here at bay. If he's lucky, it'll dissipate entirely and he'll be able to go through this ill advised mission with minimal pain.

(And it is, really ill advised, that is. Expeditions to Site B are rare, let alone ones set only several months apart. Owen is sure that they've only been cleared to do this for the raptors and because of whatever interest the Indomini have garnered- better to keep the scientists who build their dinosaurs satisfied than to risk them breaking off, and, worst case scenario, either selling their work or getting rid of it entirely. Wu would never really destroy his research though. Owen is sure of that. The man didn't give it up after the first park, and it had certainly benefitted him when he'd been contacted for the second, so the man knew how to play his cards.)

Not our problem, is the distinct feeling he gets from the majority of the pack, not particularly concerned with the other humans when they weren't posing a direct threat to them. Blue's the only one who's as leery about Wu's intentions as Owen is, but she's following on Owen's wavelength and neither of them really know what to make of whatever Wu is planning (and they're faintly sure he has some sort of agenda, even if they're not sure what it is. Benign or not, it could very well affect the way they operate, but as smart as Blue is, she can't quite grasp all of Owen's swirling thoughts about the scientist and his ilk, so all she's left with is a sense of foreboding that puts her teeth on edge.)

The noise of Isla Sorna gets louder in his head, and Owen finds that when he looks up, the sandy shore is fast approaching. This is a different landing location than the first expedition where they'd gone in from a helicopter, homing in more towards the east of the island where there had been a more secure base of operations, farther away from where the predators of the island had been reported. It isn't that the south of the island is that much more dangerous than the east (or safer, Owen thinks grimly), but being so near the water unsettles him, eyes tracking the blue waves distrustfully. It wasn't even where the spinosaurus resided, too far from its main territory, but the possibility of it finding them weighs heavily on his mind. He had only felt it as a faint blip on his radar last time he'd been on Site B, at least, and he can feel it now, fading in and out of his radar, the razor edges of its mind dulled by the protection of his pack.

Owen is sure that if he looked, he could find the other raptor pack, but he doesn't feel inclined to, not until he has to for his research.

"What are the chances we get a quiet vacation away from the hubbub of the park", Owen asks mildly, folding his hands against the railing of the ship. Barry snorts, nudging at him before doing the same, twisting a ring on his finger, a band of gold that he wore occasionally- a gift from his mother, he'd said.

"Well now you've gone and jinxed us", Barry huffs before they lapse into a quiet argument about which dinosaur they'd rather be eaten by (in French, not wanting to earn the ire of their fellow researchers)


"I'm just saying, death by T-rex is a classic Owen says as he and Barry climb off the ship, arms laden with equipment. In his head, Charlie chitters in disagreement and Echo chuffs something about how not being eaten at all is preferable, actually. He conveys the message to Barry who tuts, because the point of the discussion is which dinosaur would be the coolest to die by, and so far, Owen keeps rallying on the side of the predators while Barry defends that the herbivores had more options than just being eaten.

"What about being gored by a triceratops versus a stegosaurus", Barry poses as they begin to set things up just inside the tree line. Owen ponders the question. Delta expresses her distaste at the question by snapping at a leaf that had fallen on her snout with a loud snap.

"Triceratops", Owen answers after a bit of thought. "What about… carnotaurus or raptor?"

"If I don't pick raptor, then I think the girls would be displeased with me", says Barry, mouth curling into a smirk. Owen agrees, of course, but the part of him that had to take a crash course in Jurassic Park vs Real dinosaurs during park orientation dares to argue, "okay, but what if they were accurate velociraptors? Like the little feathery guys that're like. Half the size of the girls?"

They bicker like for the entire two hours it takes to set up their camp, and though they'd initially made the game up for themselves, it doesn't take long for several others to join in. Most of them are herbivore handlers, as there were more species of herbivore on Isla Sorna than carnivores, but Owen doesn't mind, perhaps a little too delighted by the thought that the wild versions here would be a lot less docile than the ones back at the park.

Once the camp is set up, they find there's still a few hours in the day to get some work done, so while one group goes out to collect samples, Owen follows another group deeper into the jungle, hoping to spot a triceratops family that had been reported to be lurking nearby. The sun beats down heavily through the canopy, the leaves still damp from a recent storm and Owen can feel the cool trickle of them on his neck, combating the sun's harsh glare. His mind blares out, past his girls and further into the island, mindful not to get too close to the minds of the other animals, much as they try to draw him in. Everything sounds a little distorted through the shield his pack provides, but it's not anything too distracting, although he's disappointed to find that the family group isn't close enough, having moved on sometime before they'd arrived. He scratches at his arm, quietly cursing the mosquitoes and wishing he could control them to keep them off of his skin, and must instead suffice with swatting them away.

Another thirty minutes in and Owen murmurs that they should head back, not wanting to be caught too deep in the jungle after dark, even as far away from the more dangerous animals as they were. Not that any of the animals were really safe, considering even the herbivores were built like tanks and could cause just as much damage.

As they head back, Owen thinks of himself a little like a lighthouse, mind scanning around him in a circle to keep from overwhelming himself, honed with assistance from his pack (and once more, he's unbelievably relieved that their bond hasn't weakened with distance, feeling just as strong on Isla Sorna as it had while in the paddock right next to them.) He's a little surprised by just how far they actually went, and by the time they've stepped back into the camp, twilight's begun to dot the horizon with stars, the water purpled in the distance by the sky.

"Find anything?" Barry hands him a snack bar once Owen drifts over to his side of camp, sitting down in front of their tent. They don't light fires, that would be too dangerous, so they're relegated to cold rations and snack bars, which isn't great, really, but Owen can tolerate it for the next few weeks.

He shakes his head, taking a bite out of his bar before saying, "nothing, the group moved too far away and we had to get back before it got dark." Barry hums, looking down at where his boot toes at the packed dirt, scraping messy, nonsensical lines into the earth and Owen pretends that he can see patterns in them.

They rejoin the group a little before the sun begins to truly set below the horizon, a strip of red in the distance that quickly fades into a darkening blue, faint stars beginning to glitter as the daylight dies out. Their instructions are a little different from the last time Owen had been sent to Isla Sorna, their team and equipment bigger, but it's a relief to still end up on the same team as Barry because while he's familiar with everyone on this expedition, Barry's the one he's closest to, and there's a comfort in how well Barry knows his mind.

There's a quick discussion of safety procedures and what to do in the case of an emergency, procedures that Owen's already so well acquainted with that he ends up tuning them out and instead curls his mind into warmth of pack bond, curiously poking in on his girls. Normally they'd be more nocturnal (and largely, they still lare, sleeping for a few hours before hopping back up under a bruised black sky), but with Owen's schedule, they spend more time awake during the day than they would have in the wild. They'll likely sleep more during the day while he's away, but he's left an enrichment guide for the temporary caretakers that- while nowhere near the level he would normally give them, would still suffice enough that it would discourage the girls from getting too rambunctious in his absence.

Delta clicks in his head, as if to say that no, they would never cause trouble, and Owen reminds her that yes, when they got bored, all of them (yes Blue, you too) tended to get into trouble, and they can't afford too much trouble while Owen's away. While he's aware that he has some sort… protection? From Masrani, he's not entirely sure how much he trusts it, fellow gifted or not.

"Owen, time to turn in", Barry says, interrupting his internal argument with his raptors, dark eyes gleaming with a knowing amusement. Owen shares a quick grin with him, nudging into Barry with his shoulder before pulling himself up and heading for their tent, an ache settling between his shoulders as the day's exhaustion burrows down into his bones. His bedroll is relatively soft, but he's used to the warm hide of his raptors and all he has to make due is the familiar buzz of them in his head. He ends up staying up a little longer after Barry's chest begins to rise and fall in an even rhythm, humming along to the chirps of his girls, glancing at the structure of the future I-rex paddock through Blue's eyes. The thought of having to be an entertainer doesn't entice him- the spotlight's never been his friend, and as awful as he's been at keeping this secret of his (laughably, laughably terrible, it's practically a joke), he's wary of even more people seeing him for what he is, or possibly worse, getting the wrong idea of how trainable his pack actually is.

Blue peeps at him, a sound he swears he hasn't heard from her since she was a hatchling, but it does its job and pulls him from his piling thoughts.

"Night girls", he murmurs under his breath. The pack trills back in response, and Owen falls asleep to the eerie chirp of the crickets.


chapter title from Pac Man by gorillaz ft schoolboy q
happy hallowmonth yall