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synthetickitsune · 2 months ago

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Herald Of The Deep ✧ j.ww

Pairing: leviathan Jeon Wonwoo x reader Genre: angst, horror Summary: The old shrine is a ruin but it’s your only option. Gods of present days do not answer your prayers, maybe one more ancient will. Oh how wrong you were. Word count: 3.7k A/N: and - cut! ngl im surprised i managed to actually write everything i wanted to write, so for the last day here's the fic that started all this and inspired the idea of doing mermay one year -> mermay masterlist

Looking over the rolling gray waves, your eyes fill with apprehension. Although it’s only because of the ocean that your village may exist and live on, you were never fond of it. Something about its depths that nobody could reach, hiding mysteries beyond human comprehension, makes goosebumps rise all over your body whenever your attention lingers on the swelling water for longer than a couple seconds.

It scares you. Far beyond the reasonable fear inspired by the many lives it has taken. Beyond even the darkness that lurks within it.

There is heaven and there is hell, and following the logic of heaven being somewhere in the sky as people tend to imagine, hell could only be somewhere down below. And what's deeper than the ocean?

Still, you're desperate. If no other deity will hear your pleas, you will ask the long forgotten ones.

Even as you take a deep breath and your feet sink into the dark and icy water, you’re convinced that this is not a good idea. Your gut is telling you something horrible is going to happen. You will regret this. The shock of the cold water swallowing your body makes your mind clearer. Yet your body knows. Your instincts know. You can’t shake off the primal knowledge, but you can will yourself not to listen to it.

So even as the soles of your feet meet the submerged rock, you don’t back down. The stone is smooth, you can't feel any slimy algae and while it's a relief, part of you is further disturbed. It’s never a good sign if there is no life to be found in the wilderness. The tide is too gentle to prevent underwater plants from growing or to scare the fish. It’s unnatural. Everything about this part of the area is.

The shrine far in front of you is so old that 'ancient' doesn't even begin to cover it. It feels like it's always been here, a natural anomaly rather than a human-made structure. It's much older than the village. The elders have always said the village moved further inland because the sea kept rising, but given enough booze, they'd mumble in hushed tones about the old shrine and long forgotten gods. The unsettling feelings, the unexplainable groaning of the rock. The fear that drove the animals and the humans alike into madness.

You approach the structure thinking of reverence. Thinking of obedience to the forces of nature. Thinking of the endlessness of the ocean.

Despite its eons of age, the effects of the seawater and salty air are barely visible on the stone of the shrine. Like the stone under your feet, there's no algae and its base is submerged in water - not much, only enough to lap at your knees it seems. No barnacles growing on the rock and wood. From what you've heard the water gets gradually deeper the closer you are to the shrine. That seems about right, you think, as you slowly walk forward.

The air has a grayish color to it, it looks more like smoke than a mist and it's so heavy with the smell of salt it's making your lungs burn and eyes water. Your vision blurs every so often and it makes it seem like the sea stretches on into eternity. There's no land beyond the shrine, only a sharp drop in the rock. The depths are waiting there for the unwise who'd dare to venture farther. The sea surface is calm, too. A perfect mirror of the sky above. One can only think of the old saying as above, so below.

You're careful as you proceed, well aware of the round openings into the blue hole hiding underneath the rock. Should you be reckless and step into one, you'd fall into the water and while you're a strong swimmer, you worry how the panic would influence your skill and mind. Being embraced by the icy water and darkness, aware of nothing but the freezing void beneath you; you don’t trust yourself enough not to lose your mind the second the water would close above your head.

Slowly you lose feeling in your legs. The water is so cold but there’s no other way. It’s not far enough to cause any harm to you, but every second is painful and unpleasant. You think of sacrifice.

Your guess was correct and the numbness spreads to your thighs once the water reaches your knees. The shrine isn’t much. Now that you’re here, it seems like a larger building was stripped right down to its very core. It’s only 4 walls keeping a small altar safe. It’s deserted, empty. But clean. Too clean, you think, considering its location and it being abandoned. You’d double guess that fact if it wasn’t for its reputation and the superstitious caution with which this area is avoided by the whole population.

Hopefully the gods have not forsaken this measly place of worship. You need to try.

You gingerly pull out the offerings you’ve brought. Not much, but all you can spare. Some incense, odd coins and a few pieces of fresh fruit.

You move with utmost respect. You haven’t found any advice as to how you should approach the gods and altars of old, so you let your feelings guide you. You can only hope they will sense the honesty in your manner.

You pray. You try to trust blindly.

It would be nice to know if there was anyone to notice your prayer. A sign of acknowledgment. But you already know better than to expect as much.

The world’s still spinning and time still passes when you cross the short distance between the altar and the opening in one of the walls that can’t really be called a door. The waves still lick up your legs but the feeling’s lost in them.

But their movement is slow. Too slow. Almost as if they were trying to still.

You frown and scan your surroundings. It’s too quiet. Silent. In a way that’s not normal for this place either. Nature is loud and alive, this isn’t right.

Your eyes glide over the horizon, then closer and closer to the place where you’re standing. Until finally, your heart stops. Your breathing stops.

In one of the openings to the infinite abyss below, you see the face of him. Staring back at you.

A god. A monster. A leviathan.

It’s as if a gate to the shared memories of humankind is unlocked and you know. You know you’re not coming out of this the same.

He rises out of the water. The sunken rock shakes as if it were about to collapse; as if the giant held it up on his shoulders this whole time. Had he, perhaps, once shouldered the fortune of your small village? You barely steady yourself against the wall of the shrine. It saves you from falling into the water completely, your back pressed against the crumbling rock. Your knees can’t support your weight in the face of the terror of the deep.

He keeps rising. His torso is reminiscent of a human body but it seamlessly merges with the eel-like serpentine tail that goes on without an end. It seems like the creature could reach the skies, swallow the sun. The smooth, leathery skin of his body is the color of the depths. The same, shadowy gray you see when you look over the edge of the depressions in the rocks.

Has he been watching you? Waiting for the perfect moment? It came now and here he is. Towering above you, above the shrine. Suddenly you think about the many sunken ships. About the inexplicable absence of a lighthouse on the local shore.

He comes to a stop. The muscles of his long tail flex and relax in an effort to keep the giant still and standing tall and straight. You swallow painfully. There’s still more of the monster hiding beneath the surface. You don’t even see the end of his tail.

From high up, he’s watching you. Weak, puny little thing. Foolish prey that strayed away from the safety of the shore. The look in the void of his eyes, the particular twist of his facial features betray his thoughts. You wonder if all gods are like that. You wonder if any of them at all know mercy. Kindness, perhaps.

His unnatural eyes bear the likeness of a dark sky. Of empty cosmos. They make you think of the stars. Far away and dying. Civilizations dying, secrets buried, waiting to be uncovered. Whispered to a fresh, untainted mind-

They observe you, the lightless eyes. Then, as if dissatisfied with the image, he leans down. The waves start lapping at your hips, waist, chest, drenching you again while he moves. Part of his tail disappears back into the blue hole. The threat was lurking there the whole time. He could’ve easily pulled you down. Why hasn't he?

All thoughts leave your mind when you open your eyes and he stands face to face with you.

His eyes study you once more. His lips are twisted into what looks like a smirk. It looks like a bad imitation of a human expression. There’s a predatory quality to it that the vilest of people would not be able to get right.

It isn’t right that he exists in the same world as you. All of you.

Are there more of them, too? A whole race of giants, nightmares. The ocean can’t possibly be swarming with these creatures. Hiding, waiting, biding their time.

The world holds many oceans, though. The waters are deep and vast enough to sustain a population.

These parts were always rich with fish, however. So what do they feed on, then?

The creature in front of you doesn’t have any scars as far as you could see. No fresh wounds. His skin is unblemished. No other creature is their hunter, then. They stand at the top of the food chain beneath the water. Much like humans on land. But while they can live without the land, your village wouldn’t survive without the sea. You live at their mercy.

They could trap you on this island should they wish.

Wait for you to swim and sail right into their open, devouring mouths.

You swallow again, standing up made easier now that your muscles are frozen solid and waves gradually stop their push and pull. You can barely breathe - should you? Are you allowed to? There’s a certain dissonance in your mind between what you see and what you should be seeing. There should be nothing but the ocean bleeding into the sky. The deep holes hiding under the surface. The silence. A sense of hope and despair, of cautious arrogance in your thought that perhaps the forgotten gods have heard your prayers and will listen.

They shouldn’t have sent their hellborn messenger for a visit.

His black eyes are watching you. Boring into you. They hypnotize you. You see shapes, inscriptions glowing a color you don’t have the name for. Images, flashes of places you’ve never seen before. Yet they’re familiar in the same way the fear of fire and darkness is. As if the size difference wasn’t enough.

The shrine feels like a joke, a doll house - such a tiny ruin for this larger than life creature. He looks like a statue carved into the sunken rock came to life.

He moves closer and you step back. Over and over again. Step after step until your back is pressed against the shrine’s wall. You never look away from his eyes. You can’t. He pulls back his lips in what looks like a smirk. His teeth are sharp. And too many.

There’s nowhere to run, nowhere to get away when he leans in. You shut your eyes. The creeping feeling of headache reverberates through your skull and slinks back. Through the cold, the tears rolling down your cheeks feel lukewarm.

His nose nudges at the side of your face. He takes a deep breath. A deep rumbling vibrates out of his chest. It lasts only a few seconds but you see your whole life pass in front of your eyes. You see the tragedies again. Remember why you came here.

Then there’s another sound. Equally as deep but resonating through the air. It takes a moment to register that you actually understand it.

“A human,” the monster states, “Young one.”

Can’t he tell by his sight alone? Your body is too frozen to even shiver in fear.

“Are you a god?” you whisper. The only question that makes sense to you now. That could reassure you. The sound he makes sounds like laughter.

“Your kind used to call me that a lot,” the monster says. If you had to liken his expression to a human one, it’d be a sneer. You don’t dare to assign him emotions. “Then they called me the devil. And then they stopped calling upon me at all.”

His voice resonates through your body. Like water through a net, it passes through you, yet leaves every fiber of your body shaking. It leaves behind a slimy feeling. Like touching an algae covered walls of ancient shrines, clawing at the wet stone, trying to stop yourself from slipping-

What is the monster going to do? You can’t tell. He simply observes, you think. His whole existence is abnormal, you couldn’t possibly comprehend what a creature like this can think, can be capable of.

But if he lost the notion of godhood to be perceived as a devil within but a few generations at most, then you’re not foolish enough to trust he’d hear your prayers. Not foolish enough to share their contents.

“Only the truly desperate ones come to this shrine,” he remarks, “It’s always been that way. So what is your plea, little one?”

His long, serpentine body with the puppet of a human torso pulls away. Giving you the illusion of safety, of distance. Yet he’s still looming over you, his body is woven all throughout the rock. It’s as if you can feel it crawling, flexing. Like the rock under feet quakes with the sheer strength of his heartbeat.

You’re trapped. Nowhere to hide. Nowhere to run. One wrong step and you’ll be pulled deep into the abyss. Never to be seen or heard from again. Just one more mysterious disappearance the elders will whisper about.

Just another unheard prayer.

“My wish is not one that can be fulfilled by less than a god,” you speak, head bowed. Your words are dangerous enough. You worry about the emotions your eyes could betray. You don’t wish to see the monster masquerading itself as a god, a saviour, not even once more. It’s inevitable, of course. But you might delay it some.

“There’s only so much a human can wish for. Your minds are incredibly narrow,” the monster’s lips curl into a sneer, rows and rows of sharp teeth in plain view, glistening under the white sun, “You always wish for richess, for power to control others.”

He moves. The long stretch of his body slithers over the submerged rock, propels him forward while he circles the little shrine. His shadow falls over you. For a second you believe he’ll devour you. You imagine his jaws splitting open, the sharp teeth tearing you apart. Would he use his hands to prevent you from running or fighting back? Or is he just like a wild beast - uncaring, cruel. Always starving, a slave to his hunger and instincts. Would he simply snap you in half with his blade-like teeth?

“Or you wish for that which may not be obtained by your own means - to be adored and worshipped,” he scoffs, he comes back into your field of vision - if you looked up to meet his piercing gaze, “And, of course, to bring the ones you treasure back to life.”

It finally clicks in your mind. You don’t want to assume any emotion of him, don’t want to assume he can feel them. But the way he speaks is tainted with nothing but scorn. You raise your gaze without lifting your head. He looks down on you, face twisted.

He’s closer than you expected. You suppose you shouldn’t be too surprised - all shadows do is lie.

“Isn’t that so?” the monster mocks. He motions and gestures with his hands in a way that’s almost theatrical. Like he has experience telling stories and performing. Manipulating. He should’ve been known to be the devil since the beginning.

“You’re just a foolish mortal,” he snarls, it makes your ears ring, “And you dare say only a god could fulfill your pathetic wish.”

That’s it. You truly are nothing but a pest disturbing his slumber. A prey brought into the nest of predators by a current, helpless and lost. And yet he came upon your call.

It must be a trick to lead you astray. To make you forget. The people of your village do not give names to the world around them lightly. If they called the creature a devil, there was a reason. You need to be cautious - you know you do. You shouldn’t listen to his words. They’ll only poison your mind.

Yet it’s working.

“Look at you,” he rumbles and your head shoots up. The voice resonates on the empty plain. It sounded like he’s right in front of you. A flash of pain through your skull makes you lose your vision and hearing for a second. “Losing control once the truth is brought to light.”

What’s the point in arguing? This creature could never understand.

You feel shame and anger flowing through your veins. The leviathan is right. Those things - even if just one of them - would be enough for your life to become possible again. There would be a reason, a way to go on.

Yet this creature, this abomination, dismisses them all as if they were nothing.

Nothing.

Although you suppose that’s exactly what your life amounts to, it’s still the result of you doing your best. You just got unlucky. A monster hiding in the depths where no light can reach can’t say a word to you. Calling himself a god and a devil - what life has he even led to have any right? What power allows him?

You need to escape. You need to fight, stubbornly, desperately. But you can’t give up. If this isn’t a way either… then you’re out of options here but there must be a way somewhere.

Somewhere deeper.

You shake your head with a start. Taking a step back, your heart already races and you struggle to catch your breath. The thought intruded upon your mind and spoke with a voice that wasn’t yours.

The leviathan watches you. You’re sure it’s his doing. Somehow.

“The most fundamental fact about your kind and you already can’t handle it,” he continues, each syllable grating your ears, “There are truths your feeble mind could never even begin to comprehend.”

It’s not just your ears. Your head feels like it turned into stone, heavy on your neck. And his words, his voice, seem to bounce off the walls of the cave hidden inside. Like there’s a compartment of your mind you haven’t unlocked yet, that you weren’t aware of.

The monster shifts closer. You can barely pay him any mind. Your body is shaking.

“Your laughable desires, your simpleminded wishes,” the voice echoes and haunts your mind.

It feels like your head vibrates. Like you need to hold the skin and flesh to the bone before it starts falling off. “You’ve seen nothing but a speck of dust of what is there to see of the world. You live in darkness, huddled around a dying candlelight of knowledge.”

Your back collides with the cold, damp stone of the shrine. You feel the rough wood of the hinges against your palm. The voice won’t leave. It echoes through your mind. It hurts. Your vision blurs.

You feel the water rising, waves splashing against your legs. The rock creaks. The leviathan is coming closer.

“I could show you more,” comes his voice. It suddenly sounds quiet, almost distant despite the reality being the opposite. “More than you can imagine.”

You feel his breath on your body, but you can barely discern up from down. It’s all just piling on your overwhelmed and overstimulated sense. The vertigo is so strong you feel like you’re tumbling down a steep hill, round and round, down still down, without an end.

“More than you can handle,” a mere whisper. It feels like the breeze on a sea. Like the gentle caress that wakes sailor’s up on quiet, calm mornings.

You only feel your stomach churn and then - it drops.

Like you.

The cold water embraces you. The pain of falling on the hard rock is nothing but an afterthought. Something’s gripping your calves, tightly wound around them. It drags you through the water, so fast you don’t fear drowning or hypothermia. You just fear.

And then - you’re falling too.

The abyss is calling.

The voice in your head becomes clear.

It whispers and snickers, it taunts and comforts. It whispers.

It tells you stories. It teaches. It bestows knowledge long forgotten which human lips have not spoken in aeons. Which you shall not speak either.

The words it tells you, you don’t tell anyone.

When the villagers found you, washed ashore without any signs of harm, they thought you drowned. You haven’t.

But, oh, how you wish you did.

They look at you with pity.

You don’t sleep. You barely eat. You don’t go close to the water.

Never close to the water.

You don’t speak, you avoid other humans because you scare them. You cannot stop your body from trembling. You fear the light and the darkness alike.

Or stormy nights, the voice talks to you again. The leviathan still lurks in the abyss and tempts you to return to him with his song that sounds like the tempest.

You’re wrecked with nerves, your wish no longer of any concern.Perhaps he did grant it - to forget.

#seventeen scenarios #seventeen reactions #seventeen imagines #wonwoo x reader #svthub #seventeen x reader #seventeen angst #wonwoo angst #wonwoo scenarios #svt scenarios #svt angst #svt reactions #drabble #angst #mermay 2025 #mermaid au

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maddsmallow · 1 year ago

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commission for @phoenixspencer that i should have finished during mermay whoops, but better late than never including some close ups!! human hank (in silly swimming shorts) and mermaid connor smooching on a dock over the ocean, sooo sweet and tender 🥹❤️ i love drawing mermaids. it's mermay all year round on this blog fr

non-orangey sun overlay below!

consider checking out my ☕️ for commission details! link in pinned post!

#detroit become human #dbh #hankcon #hannor #conhank #detroit: become human #d:bh #hank x connor #hank anderson #dbh hank #dbh connor #connor rk800 #rk800 #mermay #my art #the blogger says words #this shit always looks a billion times better on desktop btw ugh

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inkformyblood · 1 year ago

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race you for it (SoapGaz COD Mermay)

Selkie Soap x Mer Gaz, modern era

There is a specific support on the pier where Johnny leaves his things. It had been a matter of trial and error and far too many early mornings spent with one hand cupped over his cock and his sealskin slung over his shoulder as he made his way up the cobbled street for him to count, but he had a good enough hiding place for his clothes now. The beach is small, only visible as an assortment of stones and litter at low tide, barely big enough to let the nearby properties be classified as ‘beachfront’ on all the rental sites.

This late at night, the only witnesses to Johnny stripping beneath the pier is a pair of seagulls focused on squabbling over a discarded newspaper cone from the chippy and the fisherman above him too absorbed in the easy bob of his lure to pay Johnny any mind.

He’s dressed as minimally as he can bear with the weather just beginning to turn, the horizon still bleeding dark and murky when Johnny had managed to peel himself away from the usual round of goodbyes as he had made his way out of the pub. A thin pair of cotton trousers join the pile on the sand, the fabric darkening in an instant as the spray kicks against the thin divide of the beach. His shirt is already there, the red washed out and bleach-stained along the lower edge from an unfortunate dye job a few years back. It hadn’t even lasted the night, the colour washing out in his evening swim to an uneven green that had lasted far longer than it should have. Johnny crouches, balling his clothes around each other, his sealskin caught between his teeth to let it drape over his shoulders. He’s already beginning to change, his cheek twitching with the itch of fresh hair growth as he stands, shoving the bundle into the hole in the support. His underwear is next, crammed in alongside, and Johnny is free.

Diving into the ocean, the world is freshly grey, everything cut in stark relief like he’s carved them into a wood block, stones beneath, the distant flutter of a lure ahead of him and the huddled shapes of boats moored on his other side. He’s clumsy for an instant, the water not quite deep enough for him to swim fully, his coat loose around the edges, but a swell thunders in and Johnny banks towards the open ocean, making his way through the gap in the harbour wall.

He doesn’t need to go far.

“Hey.”

Johnny twists with a lazy flick of his tail, grinning wide as best he can. He’s checked the expression before in the bathroom of his flat, stretched out in his bathtub with a mirror balanced on the side, and it’s toothy but close enough to his human shape. He’d knocked that mirror off when he’d scrambled out, shattered his next seven years of luck all over the floor and then had to clean it up for his trouble.

Gaz laughs, swimming closer to knock his shoulder against Johnny’s. It wouldn’t push him anywhere, Gaz might be longer from the top of his curls to the tip of his tail but Johnny’s dense, heavier with muscle even underwater, but Johnny rolls with the motion deliberately, pressing himself beneath Gaz’s belly to come up on the other side of him. There’s an urge to snap at Gaz’s neck, the shine of his scales triggering something starving at the base of Johnny’s gums, the bunch of muscles in his jaw, but he swallows it back as best as he could. There’ll be something to eat later, something that shone and flickered through the water but not as pretty as Gaz or as fast.

“Busy day?” Gaz asks, adjusting to Johnny’s new position easily, barely blinking as they change direction. His gills flare wide, a flash of pale flesh beneath the dark line of his neck, made for biting with blunter teeth that Johnny’s currently wearing.

Johnny huffs out a string of bubbles, his whiskers flaring as they slow. He shakes his head, trying to convey the midweek dragging boredom of his shift, an early one, sure, that bracketed the lunch rush and the stirrings of the evening rush, but it had still been long and tedious. There’d been a copious absence of Gaz to keep his attention so Johnny had watched for his mannerisms in the customers, trying to track the wide stretch of his smile onto a smaller frame, the shine of his scales onto an overburdened wrist. Hadn’t been the same as experiencing the man himself, but it had passed the time well enough.

Gaz huffs out a laugh, swimming closer once more so he drags his fingers through Johnny’s fur, brushing over his whiskers. “Poor boy. Would losing in a race make you feel better?”

Shaking his head, Johnny leans forward to bump his nose against Gaz’s, the few scales indenting against his skin.

“I’ll give you a treat if you win.” Delivered with a wink in case all the blood in Johnny’s body had travelled south too quickly and he hadn’t picked up on the established end goal of their race. There’s a small underwater cave further down the coast, a shelf above the water where the air tastes stale but manageable, enough for Gaz to linger above water and for Johnny to turn back into someone with hands and blunt teeth for biting like he wants to.

He wouldn’t win. Not yet. Johnny has never managed to beat Gaz in a race but he would eventually and his bragging would be glorious.

#soapgaz #gazsoap #john soap mactavish #johnny soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #kyle garrick #gaz x soap #soap x gaz #cod mw2 #my writing #fanfic #mermay #mermay 2024

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thebrigeedadraws · 2 months ago

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For the drawing challenge thing, do the D3 mermaid + human with your favorite OC pair. It's still May for mermay

bridget o'brien/bob/electro-panther and hector devereaux/hector the godling from my supehero team/story the elements

in reference to this prompt from last year almost to the damn day (in which i just noticed what pose d4 is on the post godDAMNit)

look art has been hard for a long while and i was flip flopping on a pose + it made me want to update the elements references (which are still WIPs)

check out the process for this piece on my patreon

especially because hector himself needed a redesign overhaul most of all. i've narrowed down how godlings (potential new gods) work in the elements-verse since the last time i drew him. which just so happened to be...2013?! jfc that was the only time i inked/colored him

anyway

more on hector/godlings and a little bit more on bob/hector under the cut

name: hector devereaux

age: looks/is 19

occupation: godling (god in training, aspect/divinity-less), bard (buffs and debuffs people with songs)

preferred instrument: banjo

parents: euterpe (muse of music and lyric poetry) and genevieve "veevie" devereaux

natural abilities: bardic buffs (can play any instrument to empower or hinder people in their efforts), semi-invulnerable and mild super strength, limited teleportation, basic ancient greek combat training - sword, palette swapping (he changes the color of his nails/dreads/shirt whenever he wants), animal communication

i'm still trying to decide where exactly hector is from, but he's half-greek/half-black either from kentucky (home of bluegrass music) or louisiana (because any reason to visit new orleans + why not potentially add in creole/cajun roots as well, amirite?). he and bob would meet as part of a summer internship at GUARD, forced upon both by their parents/training (bob's dad wants her to beef up her college apps/keep an eye on her after an incident after a party; hector needs it as part of his godling training/working with other superhumans/gods/etc). neither wanted to be there for different reasons but end up enjoying each other's company in a very short while

believe me when in my head these two fucking morons take forever to get to the couple stage because the first few months they don't even realize they're flirting with each other (it doesn't count if it's not intentional, they will tell you that right away)

anyway

how hector come to be:

euterpe makes her rounds in different countries and one night in a little hole-in-the-wall bar, she comes across veevie devereaux and her banjo playing some of the sweetest bluegrass euterpe ever heard

enough so that it knocks up euterpe by the song alone and 9 months later, hector is born (euterpe is one of the few immortals who actually explains shit to mortals, so veevie is informed of the whens and hows well before the birth). veevie raises hector -named after her grandfather- for the most part, with euterpe visiting during the year + summers in greece. hector moves between both ma (euterpe) and momma's homes when he gets older/gets the teleporting ability

so while a good chunk of the gods still exist and are still making babies with mortals and all that, they are a lot more stringent with who gets to become a demi-god/full god status nowadays. any child of a mythological pantheon has to earn their aspect(s)/divinity, otherwise they just go through life as an average mortal. there's training/tests (quests)/schooling, and while hector has recently reached the bare minimum stage (minor strength/invulnerability), he's slacking on going much further. at least until he meets bob and decides hey maybe i should try harder at being a god or whatever

(it also gives them an excuse to hang out more since he's allowed to invite friends/partners/wahey on his god tests when a group is needed and what do you know he knows just the person who'd be game for that sorta thing)

the rest of the gang would welcome him in as well (even if he doesn't learn of their superhero identities for...a long while) and help out/hang out/etc when asked

hector has no full siblings (hector is veevie's only kid) and currently has 2 half-siblings from euterpe's side who are full fledged gods

song shuchun/susan song (looks 25-30, born 1897) goddess of the inspired lyric, and steve mcclanahan (looks 35, born 1950) god of backstage safety and mishaps. shuchun "came into her own" (found her aspect) in california during the 1920s, steve in the 1980s as a roadie for a metal band. their styles -whenever i get to them- would reflect that, or at least i would attempt to do so

hector came out being more inspired by greg universe than intended but honestly is that such a bad thing?

no it isn't

hector has no set color like the rest of the elements, so he'll constantly be changing the color of his nails/dreads/shirt to match or complement whoever he's around for the day (and multiple times per day, if he so desires).

he's pink-ish here to complement bob's blue

"when are you going to stop making octo-maids for your fat ocs?"

WHEN URSULA STOPS BEING THE BADDEST BITCH, GREATEST INSPIRATION, AND WHEN OCTO-MAIDS IN GENERAL STOP BEING COOL

AKA

NEVER

#the elements #elements #bob #hector #poses #ocs #mermay #mermay 2025

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drivinmeinsane · 1 year ago

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»{ Holland March x Merman!Jackson Healy }« ※ { ao3 }

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※ Summary: Struggling, he can’t seem to reach the surface no matter how hard he paddles upwards. He’s going to die down here if he can’t cover any distance. He’d failed to take in any air when he went over on account of knocking himself senseless. Making a mistake, Holland looks down and sees the darting shadow of a pointed dorsal fin. Shark. There’s a fucking shark in the water with him. ※ Rating: 18+ for explicit mature content. ※ Content/tags: Alternate Universe, Merman Jackson Healy, Canon-Typical Crack Taken Seriously, Frottage, Excessive Cum, Anal Sex, Cum Eating, Teratophilia, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Smoking ※ Word count: 6,739 ※ Status: Multi-chapter (1/2) :: Complete ※ Author's note: Happy Mermay! 🦈

“But mermaids aren’t real,” Holland protests with a wild gesture of his arms.

In all honesty, the private investigator wishes he were sitting down for this consultation. It’s turning out to be one hell of a doozy. Unfortunately for him, his prospective client hadn’t offered him a seat. Holland feels a prickle of resentment.

“Aye, but this one is. Got m’self a real fish man out in those waters and I aim to catch the bastard for what he did.”

When the call had come to the March residence, Holland hadn’t thought much of it. He doesn’t always get the most… reasonable individuals seeking his services. Still, after driving himself all the way to this man’s house after dropping Holly off at school this morning, he hadn’t expected to be asked to track down a myth.

It’s all complete bullshit in his opinion. This man—Sam… something—must be out of his mind. Holland, of course, is a professional and has taken on more asinine and pointless jobs than this. Money is money and it makes the world go ‘round. Or so they say. Anyway, he has a house to rebuild.

Humoring the older man, he says, “Tell me again what you’re wanting me to do about your mermaid. You’re the fisherman.”

“You want a drink?” Sam calls over his shoulder instead of answering him. Already, he’s going for a cloudy looking jug on a clearly handmade shelf alongside a stack of dented metal cups. “I distill it m’self.”

Never one to turn down alcohol, Holland doesn’t protest. “Why not, but about your mer—”

He’s cut off by the grizzled man shoving a full cup of liquid into his chest, forcing Holland to take it. He narrowly avoids dropping it when Sam takes his free hand in between his.

“Got the hands of a city boy,” he comments. He doesn’t sound put out by this, especially not with the way he rubs a calloused thumb over March’s smooth knuckles.

Feeling himself color with a flush, he takes a swig of the beverage he’s been given. It burns like fire going down. He should probably stay away from open flames after he finishes it. He’s liable to be a victim of spontaneous human combustion if he doesn’t. The alcohol itself tastes little better than he’d imagine nail varnish remover from the 50-Cent store does.

Sam gives his hand a tight enough squeeze that he has to suppress a yelp as his bones are pinched together. Thankfully, he’s released almost immediately. If Holland is a little honest with himself, which he is never is, he might be likely to admit that he finds the other man attractive in some kind of rugged, outdoorsy way. Who’d have thought he would like scruffy men who could snap him like a stick if pushed? He tacks that information onto the ever growing list of his failings.

“About the fish. I just want you to keep an eye out for him. See where he hangs out, yeah? You don’t have to do anything more than spotting him and letting me know where he is.”

“You said he tried to kill you,” Holland says, uncomfortably taking another drink and casting a critical eye at their surroundings.

The investigator has been in some strange homes over the years, but this one very well might be in the top three. While it’s clearly the abode of a bachelor, lifelong if Holland had to guess, there are some things that would give anyone pause. Sam has stacks of Campbell’s tomato soup towering on various shelves. That alone wouldn’t be too terribly strange if it weren’t for the shark mandibles hung up all round his home and the too many copies of Moby Dick stored away on a warped and leaning bookshelf. The cherry on top of the sundae is an oversized pot of water clearly filled with more shark jaws that is boiling merrily away on the stove. Sam’s home must smell like fish and Holland has never been so grateful that his sense of smell got knocked right out of his head along with any additional cognitive abilities that would have benefited him.

“I said he stole m’net and pulled me off the boat then tried to drown me. He’s a big ol’ fucker but if you aren’t fishin’, I don’t think he’ll mess with you none,” the fisherman explains patiently. He’s grinning.

Holland thinks on his words in addition to what he’d been told earlier. Three hundred dollars and all he does is have to dick around on the boardwalks up and down a very small bit of the coast. Maybe he’ll have to take off his loafers and put his toes in the sand. All that for up to a week if he doesn't find Sam’s fish man before than. It’s not a bad job, not at all. At the very least, it offers him the privacy to drink without Holly’s knowledge.

He can’t stand to be home right now. Even though it’s a different house—just a rental and meant to be a temporary thing—part of him still expects to go around the corner and see his wife. Holland knows he’s being selfish by planning working with the anniversary of her death tomorrow, but he needs tonight to grieve and then he can scrape together the fragments of himself to be a… well, not a good dad, but maybe not a complete fuck-up of one tomorrow for his daughter.

“Okay, I’ll do it,” he agrees.

───※ ·❆· ※───

Before Holland heads out to drag himself up and down the beach, he makes the drive back to the rental. Sam had advised him that the mermaid they’re seeking won’t be out until after the sun sets. Something about being shy, or having the behavior patterns of a shark. March doesn’t care. He’s just relieved he won’t have to slather himself in sunscreen and rub elbows with tourists under the sizzling rays of the sun. It’s not summer, the days are too short for that, but it’s never truly cold in California.

With Holly being away at school, it’s lonely at the rental. Holland drifts through the rooms like he’s a ghost himself, putting together what he needs for tonight. His supplies consists of a wrinkled map, a refilled flask, a pack of cigarettes, and his lighter. All the items get left on the coffee table next to his keys to shove into his pockets when he goes to leave for the majority of the night.

Holland makes the effort to be a responsible father, or his version of one anyway, by writing a note for his daughter to find when she gets home. It reads: Working case tonight. Won’t be home until late. Pizza money under the lamp. OK for Jessica to visit. Love you Kiddo.

He tapes it to her door at her eye level. She won’t be able to miss it.

Laying down on the couch, he tries to get comfortable enough to get a few hours of sleep. He turns on the TV to feel less lonely. It’s going to be a long night and this way, he is spared the restless stretch of time spent in bed wishing there was another body tucked underneath the covers beside his own.

───※ ·❆· ※───

Darkness begins to swallow the world with the setting of the sun. Visibility becomes murkier as the lights of the city fade away the further he gets from the heart of it. At least the moon looks like a sizable one tonight. He won’t be going into the dark totally blind even if he did forget to grab a flashlight. Holland isn’t even entirely sure the March family owns one these days.

He pulls off of the street and into a deserted parking lot. The Benz coasts to a stop, tires crunching over sand as it does. March puts the vehicle into park and makes sure to crank the parking break before removing the key from the ignition. One of the last things he needs is for the car to somehow roll down the embankment in front of it and get stuck nose-down in the beach’s sand. He doesn’t bother to close the top as he gets out and heads towards a flight of stairs leading down to the boardwalk that perches on the shore like some Lovecraftian monster.

While he’s descending the stairs, the PI tucks a cigarette between his lips and lights it. The rush of nicotine into his lungs is a familiar comfort. It makes the journey downward feel shorter.

This part of the coast is devoid of after-hour entertainment. There is no Ferris wheel, no stands selling popcorn and cotton candy. No pier-side carnival with young hopefuls or drugged out daredevils. It’s peaceful, almost too much so. If he’s frank, Holland thinks it’s creepy as all hell. Anyone could be lurking out here in the sands. Their footsteps on the wood boards would be covered up the steady roar of the waves. His skin crawls and he fights down a reflexive shriek at the thought of an imaginary boogeyman.

Overcome, he whips around to survey his surroundings with the desperation of the pursued. There’s nothing out here that he can see. Water laps against the pier supports. His panicked breathing finally slows. The cigarette he’s smoking burns down right to the filter as he looks out over the waves for any sign of a shark or a fish man. He plucks the spent stick from his mouth and grinds it between his fingers before flicking it out into unknowable depths.

He pulls his flask from his shirt pocket and takes a swig before tucking it away and continuing on. The investigator’s shoes are squelching over the sodden wood. He tries to keep the money he’s been offered in mind as he thinks about the damage the salt water might be doing to the leather.

Between the lulls in between waves, March hears a knocking sound. There’s a pier jutting off the boardwalk. Curiosity leads him into diverting his path. There’s a small boat tied to one of the mooring points. As he gets closer, his suspicion that it’s only the boat knocking against one of the wooden supports grows. Holland chalks himself up to just being jumpy from being out here alone with ideas of aquatic monsters swimming around in his head.

It’s not nothing. He looks down in the dark water and the rising moon illuminates a dead body knocking against the side of the boat. Holland screams and goes failing backwards, arms pinwheeling at his sides. He slips and hits the boards hard enough to knock the wind out of him. He whines getting to his feet only to slip again and hit his head on one of the mooring posts.

He renders himself unconscious and rolls into the ocean. The shock of the water makes him come to and he opens his eyes underneath the water. The salt stings his throat more than Sam’s shitty homemade alcohol had.

Struggling, he can’t seem to reach the surface no matter how hard he paddles upwards. He’s going to die down here if he can’t cover any distance. He’d failed to take in any air when he went over on account of knocking himself senseless. Making a mistake, Holland looks down and sees the darting shadow of a pointed dorsal fin. Shark. There’s a fucking shark in the water with him.

March redoubles his efforts but it’s useless. He’s not going to make it. Even under normal circumstances, he barely is able to swim.

Oh Jesus, he thinks, Who’s going to take care of Holly? Widow Wanda on the corner is going to have to look after her and her house always smells like cat piss. I’m such a terrible father.

In a rasp of skin gliding across cloth, the shark brushes against him. Holland forgets himself and screams. Water rushes into his lungs and he faints. His last conscious awareness is of human hands grabbing him around the waist and the sensation of behind towed through the ocean by a large animal in the way an orca might drag a seal.

───※ ·❆· ※───

Holland’s world explodes in stars. Pain shoots across his face in the wake of the slap he’s dealt. It’s a hell of a way to be brought back to the world of the living. His head is pounding an a way that provides a rhythm for the way his teeth feel like they’re doing the tango in his mouth. What the hell had happened to him?

Another slap goads him into putting his arms up defensively. “I’m awake! Jesus!”

Opening his eyes, he only sees darkness at first. Then his vision clears and he can make out the shape of a large, scruffy man looming over him. Unable to help himself, Holland screams. The shrill noise bounces off the surrounding rocks.

“Shut up,” the stranger tells him, not unkindly.

There’s no way to easily escape. He has been propped up against a boulder and his way is blocked by the man. He squints, looking closer at him. For a moment, he’s shocked into stunned silence at what he’s looking at. Holland tries to be logical. He is going to be normal and reasonable about this because he is a professional. March will not be the certified freak of the beach tonight.

“Nice costume,” he says, aiming for chipper.

“It’s not.”

“Not what?” Holland asks, feeling slightly strained.

“A costume.”

Silence falls between them while he tries to process that. Okay then, his savior really is off his rocker.

The private investigator chooses to act like he’d been told a joke and he laughs. “Don’t fuck with me, man. I’ve had a bad night. There’s a dead body in the water and you’re out here getting off on seeing Jaws too many fucking times. Well, listen here. I’m pissed at being the victim of your little shark prank and you need to cut that shit out.”

As fast as he can manage, he lunges towards the mystery man and tries to pull his costume tail off. It’s disturbingly realistic—smooth one in one direction and rough like sandpaper in the other. He gets a solid punch to the face for his efforts. It’s like being hit with a whole fucking ham on Black Friday. Holland goes reeling back against the boulder from the pain throbbing over his cheekbone.

“So... you’re a real mermaid then,” he says like it’s no big deal. It’s alright, he just hit his head too hard and tried to pull his presumed rescuer’s leg off. He’s imagining things.

It’s nothing a drink won’t fix, March decides. He fumbles for his flask and finds it still tucked into his shirt pocket. Somehow it hadn’t fallen during his dip in the water.

“Merman. Do I look like a maid?” The stranger sounds decidedly unamused.

“Suppose not.” he agrees. He unscrews the lid of his flask with a flourish.

Holland’s flask is dented and split right open. The only liquid left in it is an unholy bacterial mix of saltwater and liquor. It’s just his luck. Not realizing this, he takes a swig. He ends up coughing and choking. The fish man gives him an unimpressed look.

Eyes steaming, he finally stops coughing. The flask is a bust. He motions to throw it away, somewhere out into the ocean. It’s nature’s trashcan, isn’t it? The United States is dumping barrels of chemical waste out there. One little piece of metal won’t make any difference.

With the speed of a striking snake, the fish guy’s arm shoots out and pins March’s hand to the sand by his wrist. The flask is still clutched in his grasp. A yelp escapes Holland as he feels the bones in his forearm creak warningly. Any more pressure and his arm will snap.

“You won’t litter. What if I came into your home and threw trash into it?”

“How would you get to my house? You don’t have legs,” Holland spouts nervously. “Would you just crawl there? Maybe get a skateboard and—”

“Shut up.”

“Okay,” he says, agreeably, but continues, “So, about the—”

“What did I just say? I’m going to ask you some questions and you’re not going to flap your lips about it. Got it?”

Holland nods and mimes zipping his mouth shut with his free hand. The fish man gives him a skeptical look but eases up on his hand and leans back. Meekly, he tucks the broken flask back into its usual pocket.

“Why are you out here? You don’t look like a jumper or one of those night swimmers.”

“I’m a PI and I have a case, thank you very much.”

Seemingly confused, the mermaid—merman—squints down at him. His eyes are flooded with a solid color. It looks black in the dim light, makes him look like an alien. His hair drips in curls over his forehead. Holland notes that the facial hair has been trimmed. He wonders how. It’s hard to imagine they have shaving razors down in Atlantis.

“What’s a PI?” he asks.

“It stands for private investigator.”

With each breath, the merman’s gills flutter on either side of his neck. The only response Holland gets is a blank look in those inky eyes.

“You know… a detective? A private detective? Private eye?”

There is not so much as a spark of recognition on the merman’s face. March is completely baffled.

“A cop? I’m like one of those but I solve mysteries for people?” he tries.

“You don’t look like one. A cop.”

“Because I’m a PI. I investigate mysteries. Like Scooby-Doo?” he offers, thinking about the masks being pulled off in the cartoon that Holly has been watching on Saturdays to agitate her hungover father off the couch. Well, he’s only hungover for as long as it takes for him to get another drink down his throat. That’s the thing. If you’re always drunk, you feel the aftereffects less. It’s March’s favorite trick.

“The dog?” the merman’s voice rasps. Holland can almost feel the vibrations from the fish man’s chest in his own. He’s still that close, nearly between Holland’s legs. He’s warm and Holland is shivering. He finds himself spreading his legs wider and shifting closer. Shamefully, the PI has to make an effort to stop from plastering himself against the stranger.

He blinks. His voice rises as he asks, “How the fuck do you know what Scooby-Doo is but not what a detective is?”

This night has been overly surreal. Maybe he hit his head harder than he thought. Maybe his brain is having the final functions of a dying man while floating next to the dead body that had sent him into ocean in the first place. Maybe he’s being eaten by the shark right now and is too far gone to realize and his mind is trying to make sense of it by conjuring the animal up as this handsome fish man. Maybe he shouldn’t have rented Splash from the video store the other night. It crossed some wires.

Dismissively, the merman waves a webbed hand. “Right. Who are you?”

“Holland March. I’m a priv—”

That same hand gets shoved into his face, cutting him off. “Jackson Healy.”

Why did his dying subconscious have to make up someone so goddamn rude? Holland shakes it warily. His eyes are still stinging from the saltwater.

“I expected a fish name. Something like Swimathy or James Pond or… Gillbert. I don’t know.”

“Swimathy?” Jackson mutters, disgusted.

Holland makes an offended noise. Hey, at least he’d been trying.

“Why are you out here, March?” he asks.

As Holland thinks about the question, he realizes he hates how the edges of his thoughts are too sharp. The investigator wishes he had alcohol to smooth out his mind until it washed away the discomfort.

“I have a case. Some guy wants me to track down a mythological fish man that tried to drown him the other day. Which I don’t think is even possible because fish men don’t...” he trails off, blinks, his brain kicks into gear. “Jesus! You’re the fish man.”

Healy looks at him, contemplative. The lack of visible pupils makes it more intense than it would be from a human. He squirms under that stare.

“He was hunting and he shouldn’t have been. Not here.”

That’s all but a direct confession. Holland shakily reaches into his pants pocket and pulls out his sodden pack of cigarettes. He puts the wet filter between his lips. A bit of saltwater spurts out with the pressure, coating his tongue in brine. He plucks it out of his mouth, spits, puts it back in place and flicks on his lighter. The cigarette doesn’t catch. Of course not.

Not wanting to be reprimanded for littering again, March shoves the cigarette back in the pack. It explodes tobacco all over his fingers that he has to wipe on his pants before returning the whole situation, pack and lighter, into his pocket.

“I don’t see how that’s my problem. Look, he paid me. A job is a job, alright? You dragged him out of his boat and he wants to know where you are so he can talk it through.”

“Talk it through by sticking me, maybe,” Healy says, bitter tone to his voice, His hand goes to a scar bisecting his upper arm. It flashes silver in the moonlight. Holland had assumed it was a natural marking to go with the other lines and speckles adorning the merman’s skin.

“I don’t ask questions, I just accept payment. It’s a job.” He’s all too aware of how defensive he sound.

Besides, he reasons, this guy… fish… merman is big. Jackson can hold his own, surely. Holland wouldn’t tussle with him, not after feeling some of the strength residing in that thick body of his. He’s built like an old-fashioned bruiser. March can easily picture a pair of brass knuckles on those webbed fingers. All at once, he realizes that Healy’s teeth are sharp and it fully dawns on him that he’s looking at an actual predator, a shark with human intelligence.

Jesus, Holland thinks with dawning horror, what kind of damage could he do if he tried?

“What if I pay you?”

“What? What do you mean pay me? Pay me for what? I don’t solve fish crimes. You lose Bruce out there and need to find him? Do you not have fish detec—”

“March.”

Holland shuts his mouth.

“If I pay you, will you do a job for me as well? You can tell your man where I am, collect on that money and get payment from me after you do my job.”

“What—I don’t accept seashells or whatever fish currency,” he protests, desperately confused.

“You accept paper money? Coins? Jewelry?”

Holland pats himself down in vain. He’s automatically reaching for the crutch of a cigarette before he remembers. Put out, he asks, “How much are we talking?”

“Enough.”

“How do you know what’s enough? How do you even have the means to pay me?” He’s half expecting the fish man to give him a soggy five dollar bill.

Healy moves his wide shoulders up in a shrug as he says, “Your kind leaves shit behind all the time. It all ends up in the water. Finders keepers.”

“But…” he trails off, inarticulate.

“Name a price.”

“I don’t know what the job even is.”

“There’s an organization that deals with illegal hunting—”

“Fishing.” Holland interrupts. In the back of his mind he’s having to come to terms with the idea of fish law and fish court. How else would Jackson know about legalities?

Healy directs a frown at him. “I need you to stick around and tell somebody when he’s out on the water with a net and harpoon doing it. He needs to get caught.“

“Not all fishing is illegal.”

“Yes, I know that,” Jackson says with almost condescending patience, “but what he’s doing is. Some other human got in trouble for doing the same thing. The human has been a real pain in my back, March. I don’t appreciate my life bring thrown around. I’m not going to be his trophy catch.��

“Five hundred. Cash. Paper money. Half up front, other half on delivery,” Holland bursts out, not truly expecting the fish man to agree.

“Done. Meet me where you fell,” he says.

Mouth hanging open, the private investigator watches as the merman pushes out into the water and slips underneath the surface. He’s left behind to get to his feet and traverse through the sand in what he hopes is the right direction of the boardwalk. The beach does its best to steal his shoes.

“Would have been nice if Flipper could have taken me back,” he grumbles.

It’s a relief when he finally climbs the stairs leading up onto the elevated path. Less of a relief is the presence of the body. The dead man is still bobbing unpleasantly by the small boat. A dingy? A rowboat? He’s not sure what to call it. Holland has never been a seaman. He’s not about to start now.

Exhausted, he sits down, letting his legs dangle over the side. It’s been a night. The cold breeze coming off the ocean’s surface makes him shiver. He’s itching for a smoke or a drink. Something. He can’t have shit can he?

March is not sure how long he sits there, soaked and uncomfortably shifting from the chafing of the sand that’s worked its way into places it should never be. He finally gives in and lays down. The back of his head hits the wood with a thunk that makes him wince. After a while, his eyes drift shut and he dozes off.

Something slaps him on the cheek, startling him awake. In a repetition of just a while ago, Holland opens his eyes to see a large figure hovering over him and he stifles a scream.

“How the hell did you get up here?” he gasps. He’s clutching at his heart.

“Jumped. Here. Your money.” Jackson answers, tossing a wet bundle of bills onto his stomach.

Suddenly in much better spirits, Holland sits up and combs through the money with an eager thumb. Two hundred and fifty dollars exactly. The fish man hadn’t been yanking his leg when he said he could pay.

“Meet me tomorrow night at the spot where I dragged you out of the water. Tell your client I’ve been around the pier.”

Before he can respond, Healy turns and launches himself off the wood. He slips into the water with more elegance than the investigator would have expected from something the merman’s size.

“What about the body?” he mutters to no one. The fish man hadn’t explained that at all. Jesus, he hopes that Jackson hadn’t killed him. He shoves the wad of bills into his pocket after standing up.

It’s a long climb up the stairs. He might as well be trying to scale the Great Wall of China. By the time he reaches the top, he’s wheezing and desperately wants to collapse on the ground. Rather making for his car, he digs a fistful of change out of his pocket and goes to the payphone at the edge of the parking lot. He slips some coins, ten cents worth, into the slot before pocketing the rest.

Holland presses the 0 button and waits, debating on just pulling his shoes of. The sand really is aggravating. Only the thought of rubbing his bare toes all over the pedals of his car stops him.

“Hi, operator, can you connect me to the police?”

He listens for the confirmation and waits some more for the connection.

“Los Angeles Police Department.”

“I need to report a dead body. It’s down at the dock from the parking lot at the uhhh…” Holland thinks for a moment,” just off Via Riviera and Paseo.”

“Sir, what—”

“Anyway, super dead. Very much in the water. Don’t know what happened. Goodnight,” and he hangs up.

Not wanting to deal with the arrival of the police to be asked questions he doesn’t know the answers to, he wastes no time launching himself behind the wheel of his Benz and getting out of the lot. He’s going to straight home and rinse off in the shower before collapsing into bed. When he wakes up in the morning, things will be normal and fish free. He’ll laugh all of this off as a hallucination.

───※ ·❆· ※───

Light burrowing through the gaps of the blinds and through the curtains is what drags Holland from his slumber. He lays on his side for a moment, taking stock of how sore his body feels. Straining, he makes out the numbers displayed on his bedside block. It’s already well past noon. There’s only a few more hours of daylight left.

With a sigh, he sits up and drags himself out of bed only to immediately trip over the discarded pile of clothing on his floor. It’s wet.

“What…?”

Last night comes rushing at him and Holland snatches up the bundle of cloth. He starts tearing through his pockets looking for evidence that it hadn’t been some kind of alcohol induced dream. He finds the cracked flask and the still damp wad of cash.

March stumbles back, still holding onto the stiffening pants and sits on the edge of his bed. It had been real. That means… Jackson Healy the merman had been real too. Fish people aren’t just myths. The pants slip out of his slackened grasp and fall back onto the floor to join the rest of clothing he’d worn last night.

Feeling dazed, he goes to the kitchen. He doesn’t bother to get dressed in anything more than the boxers and undershirt he’d put on after rinsing himself free of saltwater last night.

He aims for some normalcy, as much as he gets given his choice of employment, and starts the coffeepot. He sets a mug out on the counter. Deciding he’s going to need a bit of a kick while he thinks about the events of the past twenty-four hours, he drags over a bottle of bourbon.

“Dad?” comes Holly’s voice. He’s surprised for a moment then he realizes that it’s a Saturday, no school. Holland is on top of things enough to know that.

The private investigator knows that he’s lucky to have such a good kid. In his more sober moments, he loathes having been the cause of her needing to be so independent at a young age. Holland March is a fuck-up and everyone knows it. He wishes he were a better man, one that wasn’t making his daughter pay the price for his shortcomings and self-inflicted issues. One of these days, he’s going to kick the drinking habit and do right by her, but… today is not going to be that day.

“Hi, honey,” he says, fetching a second mug from the cupboard without her needing to ask. Should a thirteen year old be drinking coffee? Probably not, but March isn’t going to stop her.

Once the coffee finishes dripping into the glass carafe, he fills both mugs two-thirds of the way in order to leave room for any additives. He pushes Holly’s at her along with the sugar jar. He fills his own the rest of the way up with bourbon while she fetches creamer from the fridge.

“What did you do last night? There’s sand and stuff all over the place.”

“I... uh... I had a case last night. I need to check in on the client today and meet with Jackson tonight. Also don’t say—”

` “Were you just drinking again?” she asks before he can finish his word policing. Holly is skeptical, too jaded to hope. She knows him too well to expect real progress from him. It would sting if it weren’t so accurate.

“No! No, my flask actually broke. I didn’t have a drop, promise.” He neglects to mention he had already drank about half of it and had whatever backwater distillery project Sam had handed him prior to Holland doing a nosedive off the pier.

“Dad.”

“Remember that case I mentioned? The mermaid guy? Well, I found his fish man and he wasn’t bullshitting. There’s an actual mermaid, well he said he wasn’t a maid. I thought he was a shark at first, but he saved me and—”

“Dad.”

“Yes?” Everyone seems determined to interrupt him when he’s speaking. He takes a drink from his mug.

“I’m going with you today.” she says, holding up a hand to stop him from saying anything further.

“Okay.” He gives in, doesn’t protest a bit. Holland doesn't want to leave her alone, not today.

Holly looks surprised at the lack of protest. She’d clearly had expected a fight about it.

“I’ll get dressed. Meet you by the car in fifteen?”

Holly flashes him a thumbs up and shoots off down the hall to her bedroom like the Roadrunner off LoonyTunes. He’d been just as high energy back when he was a kid. Holland’s own parents could barely get him to sit still enough to eat dinner most nights.

Burning his mouth a little, he downs the rest of his coffee in two swallows. He goes to his own room at a slightly more sedate pace to find a set of fresh clothes. He’s already mourning the future spent without a functioning flask. He’s going to have to rely on cigarettes alone until he can pick one up on Monday when his daughter is at school. He doesn’t want to have to face the disappointment in her eyes if he purchases one while they’re together. Upsetting her this afternoon is not an option, not with it being the anniversary of her mom’s death.

In preparation for everything tonight might entail, Holland gets dressed in clothing he’s less attached to. If he’s running the risk of sand and finding himself in the ocean again, he’s not styling himself up to the nines. Khaki pants and a short sleeve button-up on top of his underthings are as fancy as he’s getting. Grimacing, he puts on the same pair of loafers he’d worn last night. The traces of sand still lingering in the corners try to breach the barrier of his socks.

When Holland leaves the room, he finds Holly’s bedroom door open without her in sight. He scrapes his keys out of the bowl. He also makes sure to write a fresh copy of Sam’s address on the underside of his forearm, right below his watchband, before he steps outside. He doesn’t feel like trying to remember the house number and street.

As expected, his daughter is waiting for him by the Benz.

“You ready, kiddo?” he asks.

Holly nods, only to look surprised when he loops around to the driver’s side and takes a seat behind the wheel. He’s so disgustingly sober he feels capable of driving with his daughter as a passenger.

“Where are we going?”

“To visit the client. I need to tell him what I found.”

“Oh right… your mermaid,” Holly says doubtfully.

Unbothered by her disbelief, March cranks up the radio, and they’re soon flying down the streets of LA. He slaps the outside of the car door in time with the beat. Holly can be a skeptic all she likes, but she’s going to be surprised when she sees her old man isn’t lying after he takes her with him on his house call to see the merman himself.

In no time at all, he pulls to a stop alongside the curb in front of the same ramshackle house he’d been in just the afternoon before. Holland probably should have called ahead, but it’s too late for that now. He hops out of the vehicle and makes his way up the sidewalk to the front door with his daughter trailing behind him. The private investigator taps his knuckles against the peeling door. It’s promptly answered by the same man as yesterday who peers at him suspiciously from around the door before flinging it open wide.

Sam adjusts his hat and looks approvingly at Holland from below hooded eyes. “Surprised to see ya back so soon, city boy.” He looks at where Holly is standing beside her father with her arms crossed. “And who’s this little lady?”

“My daughter. Holly.”

“Nice to meet ya. I’m Sam. Your dad’s doing me a real big favor,” he says, before turning to Holland with a grin, “Come on in and tell me what you found, yeah?”

Without hesitating, the father and daughter follow Sam inside. Holland doesn’t miss the way Holly has to suppress a gag at the smell the boiled shark cartilage must be putting off. He wonders if the fisherman still has a sense of smell and has just grown immune to it, or if he is like Holland and simply can’t smell.

“I found your fish man,” he blurts out, wanting to get this over with.

Sam’s eyes light up with uncontained glee. “Yeah, where did you find the slippery bastard?”

“By the pier. The one attached to the boardwalk by Via Riviera and Paseo.”

“Ah, he’s moved further north than when he pulled me out of my boat. What time did you see him?”

“Not long after dusk. You were right about his… patterns being like a shark.”

The rugged man claps him on the shoulder. Holland’s knees nearly buckle with the impact. Sam praises, “Good work, we’ll get him yet.”

Failing to successfully wave of offers of tomato soup from the many cans, Holland finds himself seated on a threadbare couch next to his daughter while their host regales them with old seafaring tales from his time on commercial fishing boats. All three of them have chipped bowls of soup in their hands. No spoons. The thick liquid had been heated on the stove next to the ever boiling pot of shark parts. He’s sure it has to affect the taste given the despairing glances Holly keeps sending his way when Sam isn’t looking.

Trying to not bounce his leg impatiently while the other man talks, Holland gulps down his soup. His mind keeps going to the fish man that will be waiting for them soon. It’s going to be a significant drive to the ocean followed by a too-long walk along the shore to reach the spot where Jackson had pulled him to dry ground.

After a while, he simply cannot take any more and manages to speak during a lull in the fisherman’s bottomless, one-sided storytelling. “Sorry, Sam. We’re going to have to head out. Holly’s got homework. You know how it is. Thank you. Bye.”

Sam’s own goodbyes and reassurances that he’ll let Holland know when he “catches that big brute” follow them out of the door while they make their escape to the relative safety of the vehicle. Holly sags back into the seat while he starts the Benz and begins the drive. The sun is already beginning to set. Nervously, he drums his fingers on the steering wheel.

The lot is empty again just as it had been the evening before. Police tape marks off the stairs, though there are no officers milling about. He probably should have checked the news, but regardless, he pulls into the same spot he’d been parked in.

Having learned enough from last time, he strips off his shoes and socks and gestures for Holly to do the same. They toss it all onto the back floorboard to retrieve later. Pleasantly, the parking lot is still warm under their feet as they make their way to the stairs. March holds the tape up for his daughter to step below before ducking under himself. As she passes him, he notices that she’s carrying two Yoo-hoos. The investigator doesn’t say anything. Maybe she is planning on being thirsty after their walk.

Holland digs a cigarette out of the pack and lights it once it’s between his lips. It dangles there while they amble downwards and finally make it onto the level surface over a dozen feet below the parking lot level.

“Dad… Are you sure you weren’t just imagining things?” Holly asks when he leads them off the boardwalk to the beach. Sand threatens to engulf them up to the ankles.

“You’ll see,” he promises.

next chapter -»

Do not repost, copy, or reproduce my work to other sites or in other media formats. Do not use it for anything to do with AI. Thank you.

#the nice guys (2016)#the nice guys fanfiction #the nice guys fanfic #holland march #jackson healy #holland march x jackson healy #russel crowe #ryan gosling #ryan gosling fanfiction #healland #mermay #.my posts #.my work #.fic: ocean boulevard

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jade-everstone · 7 months ago

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Art Summary 2024

Full post is available on my website (Art Summary 2024)

2024...

This year was rough for me, and for many others as well from the looks of things. I didn't have as many larger works this year, but I've managed to scrounge together what I did make for a filled-out summary.

January - it's snowing again

A piece about feelings of uncertainty and caution entering 2024. It's bleak out there, but it snowed a few times at least. It was nice to look at, I guess that's something.

Febuary - POV: Your partner is a New Englander

A screenshot redraw challenge from Twitter. I like to imagine Alia took that photo on a Boston trip with Io because the Red line was running late.

March - LPS EMPRESS

2024 was the year I got more into IIDX, and back into LPS collecting. As a result, these otherwise completely different interests ended overlaping a lot more than I thought lol.

This one's a spoof on the IIDX empress CS boxart, combined with two long-term dreamie LPS I got around that time.

April - A quiet afternoon Birthday

Prisma & her AU Monster Hunter Prisma were major comfort characters a few years back. While both versions taken a backseat recently, I wanted to make some form of nice picture for her birthday.

May - Io ver. Aquatic

A last-minute mermay picture featuring Io! I based their design on a black-tipped reef shark.

June - My Pet Shop.pdf

A zine based on my revived interest for LPS, highlighting a few 'named' pets in my collection. Some of them are older ones with sentimental value, and some were (relatively) recent additions to my collection.

July - The Uno Incident

Guys I don't think he's winning this round.

Uno brings up some funny memories from college for me. Notably one instance where I got drunk and got skipped at least 3 times during gameplay (and missing several times I could've played a card...). It became a running joke for the rest of that year.

August

Wasn't much from this month (or at least much that wasn't part of unfinished projects). I think this might've been the only one I posted. A warmup dump for a project I was working on at the time involving Shem.

September - m_l_nch_ly

A piece about feelings of fear, stagnation, and hopelessness as a queer individual. Feelings that loomed over me 2023, 2024, and especially now entering 2025.

October - Zinnia MLP Custom

With my revived interest in LPS came a revived interest in custom toys (though I'll likely keep this as a minor side-thing). This was an old MLP G4.5 base I prepped years ago, and made into a figure based off my LPS mascot.

I based it on how I draw her, though I think next time I do a project with sculpting I should think about how to make it more efficient (It took about 3 months to make between motivational dips...)

November - Still More to Do...

My contribution for Window to Worlds 2024! This year I gave the spotlight to Jpeg and Risa. In which Jpeg realises they haven't packed anything that isn't gaming related since they moved in, and Risa not being much help either.

December - Webmaster Io - v2

A redraw of an older picture of Io with their updated design to celebrate my site's recent layout update.

I would argue the latter is my biggest project and proudest achievement of 2024, so I like to see this illustration as a stand-in for that as well.

#rambles #art summary #art summary 2024 #2024 #2024 summary of art #summary of art #this layout was based on my website

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clover-midori · 3 years ago

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Man, Klonoa 2 is different than what I remembered.. I must be dreaming, eh?

Anyways, here’s Klonoa as a mermaid! I decided to give him a betta-like tail since it would go well with his ears (I initially thought of an orca tail or even a wahoo tail cuz WAHOO haha) and I think he looks way better this time! I haphazardly stitched 2 drawings, of his upper body and tail, so that’s why it looks a bit trashy, but since I did improve my art from a few months, there’s that.

I’m not proud of his hat. I sucked at it. I did like the new shirt I gave him, well, in which case, hoodie.

I’ll see if I can do Guntz sometime soon.

#Klonoa #mermaids are real #mermaid #mermaid transformation #tf #mermaid tf #transformation #mermaid au #Klonoa 2 #merman #merboy #mermay 2022 #mermay should be year-round not a month #anyways I shall now work on Guntz cuz yah #aaaaaaaaaa

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thiswasinevitableid · 2 years ago

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Ornamental (Indruck)

The winner of the location-based mermay prompts was: A mer weaving among submerged branches in the dark, murky water of a swamp. Big thank you to @bellafarallones2 for playing in this space on discord

The roots twine like gordian knots as Duck slips between and beneath them. It’s been a high rain year, and the rivers and inlets to the sea are high, so high that branches loom in the murk.

He’s excited; the drowning trees mean new specimens for his botany collection, and maybe even some nice kinds of wood for carving ships once he dries them out.

A distant, unmistakable hum of a motor and he turns his attention to some nearby manatees. In the murky water, there is a good chance the skipper won’t see them until his motor slices their backs. Shooing them into a smaller cove where the roots make it impossible for a boat to travel, he pauses to rub one of the calves on her grey head before swimming back to the main waterway through the swamp.

The net nearly catches him on the first throw into the water, and he realizes he should have hidden with the manatees.

Duck makes a hard left away from the shadow of the hull, the motor chopping the water as it speeds after him. His best chance is to make the mouth of the river and head into the sea; they won’t be able to corner him there and he can dive deep and wait them out.

In any other instance, if he knew a human was out here trying to catch mers in a small boat, he’d capsize the damn thing so they’d think twice before pulling the same shit again. But they know he’s here. Swimming any closer to that boat is as good as throwing himself in cuffs.

He rounds a curve in the river, the second to last before he hits the sea.

Instead, his head hits a submerged branch that wasn’t there two days ago. He’s tough, but at speed the hit is hard, stunning him long enough for a net to drop onto him and haul him into the air.

He thrashes, knocking one human into the water the instant they drop him onto the deck. Two more converge on him and his tail swipes their feet from under them as he rips the net in half. He grabs the edge of the boat to vault to safety and pain shoots through the base of his tail. Just as he lunges for the blonde human that’s spear gunned his tail to the planks, the end of a rifle hits his forehead and the world drops away.

When he comes to, it’s with an aching head and human hands touching his tail. He sinks his teeth into flesh and the human pulls back with a yelp.

“I was trying to help you!” Blood drips down his wrist as he clutches the bite, and silver hair falls into his face when he tilts his narrow chin at the half-wrapped bandage on Duck’s tail.

“Touch me again and I'll take a finger off!” He snaps at the assembled flock of well-dressed humans, “that goes for the rest of you, too. Keep the fuck away from me.” He pushes back into deeper water and sinks down to finish bandaging his tail in peace.

When he pokes his head back up, the crowd is moving towards a large house. The house in whose backyard pond he’s now stuck. He’d heard some humans kidnap mers to keep like glorified garden ornaments. He just never thought he’d be unlucky enough to run into them.

The human who speared him is talking to the one who bandaged him, and side by side he can see they must be brothers.

“Now do you see father’s point? They’re aggressive beasts who would keep us in ponds if they could.”

The silver-haired one looks over his shoulder, expression pained but not unkind, “And I doubt we’d respond any better to it than he did.”

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Indrid stays clear of the pond for two days. He lets his father, brother, and their remaining guests assume it’s because of the still-red bitemark on the side of his hand. In truth, it has far more to do with images of netting digging into tan skin and blood seeping across the bottom of the boat. They, and the fact, he could not prevent them, makes him ill.

Today, the sun is too warm to resist and he wanders down the stone path to the pond. The water feature is more like a beautiful, natural pool, with salinated water, jewel studded rocks, and bright blooming aquatic plants. But it’s a pond nonetheless, a place where they’ve dumped a merman as if he were a Koi.

The merman floats on his back, staring at the sky, and doesn’t even look Indrid’s way before saying, flatly, “fuck off.”

“I will. I just wanted to say I am sorry. None of this was my idea. But I am sorry all the same.”

The merman rests his hands on his stomach, “You wanna prove you’re actually sorry? Tell 'em to give me a decent meal. Something swimming would be nice, or just something fresh. Fish don’t come in fuckin’ sticks where I’m from.”

One bike ride–he doesn’t want to alert his family to his plan by using one of the cars–and stressful hunt through the grocery store later, he returns with a plastic bag in one hand and a pail in the other.

“Ahem.” He waits until the merman looks his way to hold up his haul, “the only live thing in the store was a lobster. So I got you one of those and some sushi. I don’t know if merpeople have that but it’s basically just raw fish.”

He sits on one of the larger rocks, far enough back that the mer will have a harder time reaching him to bite his fingers off or drag him into the water. Not that he’d blame him for the urge, but blood loss and/or drowning are not his preferred means of dying.

After arranging the two trays of sashimi closer to the water, he opens the pail and tips the lobster into the water. The merman ignores it in favor of the sushi, picking up and examining several pieces before popping one into his mouth.

He groans happily, “Damn that’s good. Now: fuck off.” He takes the two trays and swims backwards to a stone near the center of the pond, setting them on the gray rock and turning his back to Indrid. Satisfied that he’s shown he does care about the merman’s well-being, Indrid leaves him to eat dinner in peace.

When he comes back the next morning, he’s puzzled to hear the merman talking with someone.

“...dunno Carl, what do you think?”

Indrid approaches one of the benches near the pond and finds him resting his arms on the edge of a stone, on which is perched the still-living lobster. Having absolutely no idea of the social rules of this situation, he settles on the bench, sets his lunch-bag beside him, and focuses on his sketchbook.

After several minutes of silence, the merman says, much louder than before “I don’t get it Carl. Humans think they’re hot stuff and they can’t even breathe under water. Maybe that’s why they’re so fuckin rude all the time; they know mers got one up on ‘em.”

Indrid decides it’s best to ignore him, and succeeds in doing so for five minutes before the merman says, “even the ones that think they’re good don’t do much.”

He turns to a squirrel lurking near the bench, ��well, THIS human told them to bring the merman actual fish instead of those horrible protein cakes. And I was GOING to share my lunch with him.” The mer whirls toward him, “I got a name, y’know!”

Indrid cocks his head, “Which is?”

“Duck. It’s a nickname.” “I like it.”

The mer crosses his arms, “good, means you won't call me fuckin "sparkles" or somethin’. Heard some humans rename captured mers, which is fuckin’ bullshit.” Indrid shakes his head, “I won't let them. If it comes down to it, I'll tell them I hate the name Duck, which means they'll keep it out of spite.”

“Yeesh, that’s fuckin grim.”

Indrid snickers at the succinct summary of his family dynamics, “I am aware. My request to patch up your tail was met with a solid day of ridicule. Speaking of which, is it healing alright?”

“Yep, good as new” The mer lifts his tailfin, revealing a fresh, but clearly healing, scar. More troubling is the color of the surrounding scales; when he was pulled into the boat, they shimmered in silver and earth tones. Now they’re dull as old dimes.

“Did your tail change color because you’re upset? Or sick?”

“Why? You wanna make sure your pet looks good for visitors?”

“You are not my pet! You’re not anyone’s pet and you should not even be here but until I can convince father of that, which may take until my death or his, whichever comes first, will you please tell me how to make you less miserable?”

Seaweed green eyes study him. Then the mer mumbles, “I need a bumpy rock. Not a sharp one, a bumpy one so I don’t fuckin cut myself.”

Indrid turns his attention to the landscaping, crawling from one patch of stones to another and holding promising ones up for Duck to examine. The mer swims alongside him, eventually pointing out ones that he thinks could work. Carl does nothing helpful whatsoever.

At last, Indrid finds a lava rock that’s just smooth enough and passes it to Duck. The mer murmurs, “thanks” and returns to the rock at the center of the pool.

Indrid returns to the bench and removes the fruit salad and seaweed snacks he packed. He’s halfway done with the salad when Duck surfaces at the edge of the pool. The thought of him moving his bulk so silently into and through the water sends new, welcome shivers up Indrid’s arms.

“I got a favor to ask. There’s a patch I can’t reach because I’m still stiff from gettin’ hauled up. Would you be willin’ to get it for me?”

“Of course.” Indrid brings the seaweed snacks with him as Duck pulls himself onto the pavement and rolls onto his belly. Indrid takes the rock and sets the container by Duck’s head. The mer takes a snack, frowning when it sticks to his damp fingers but biting it anyway.

“This spot here?” Indrid rests the stone on a still-dull patch of color.

“Uh huh. Just go in circles, don’t gotta worry about bein’ gentle, I can handle-ohhhhhfuck.” He tenses from fingertips to tail with a groan, “yeah, that’s the spot alright. Damn that’s nice.”

Indrid smiles and sets about his work, buffing the scales back to life as Duck sighs. He’s glad that the mer has accepted his olive branch. As he works, Duck muses on how humans figured out they could dry something so slippery, which eventually leads to a conversation on certain seaside markets in Japan where, according to what Duck’s heard, vendors on the shoreline have counters facing both the street and the water.

Maybe Indrid could arrange and escape for them there. All he’d have to do was work out how to keep a mer alive on a trans-pacific flight. Which is still easier than convincing his father to let Duck go.

He runs a hand over the now-shining tail and Duck sighs happily, resting his hands under his cheek. The movement allows Indrid to watch the muscles in his back, made strong by a life of swimming.

Duck probably gives amazing hugs.

Indrid sets the rock down and notices the cuffs of his pants are soaked from the ambient water.

“Drat, I got wet.”

“Delicate human can't handle a little water?” Duck rolls onto his back, smile friendly and charmingly crooked. “It does not bother me, I just have to be careful not to track it inside.”

The mer looks towards the house, “Not sure water damage will make it any worse. Why's it so drab?”

“My family has certain tastes.Namely, expensive enough to inspire jealousy but not interesting enough to suggest something like a personality.” He rolls up his cuffs, “what are the buildings like where you're from?”

“Depends on where exactly you live and what’s around. Some folks use coral or rock, wood, even seaweed sometimes. Buildings end up all kinds of colors, just like the fish.” He chuckles, “hell, some mers put certain sea plants on their houses to attract fish that match the color scheme.”

“That sounds lovely. I’d paint our whole house bright colors if I could. But alas, everything here must be to the most current taste, even if that taste is boring.” The dinner bell sounds and he stands, “I have to go. Thank you for letting me help you. It…it was a pleasure to aid in the maintenance of your scales. May I come visit again tomorrow?”

“It’s your house.” Duck slips back into the pool.

“Yes, but this” he points at the water “is yours.”

The mer smiles up at him, intrigued, “In that case? Yeah, you can come see me whenever you want.”

—----------------------------------------------------------------------

“Ahem. Duck, I know the circumstances are not ideal, but you are a magnificent subject and I would like to draw you. May I?”

Indrid looks at Carl, who clacks his claws.

“You are right, that is much better when it’s short and sweet.”

“Dunno, thought the one where you offered to make me a portrait to keep on waterproof paper was really somethin'.”

“Ah!” Indrid jolts as green eyes peer from the reeds he convinced the gardener to plant on one edge of the pool, “how long have you been listening?”

“Long enough to decide that the answer is yes, as long as you bring me somethin to do because it’s fuckin boring in here. Any luck getting your brother’s binoculars so I could birdwatch?”

“No, and I am lucky to still have my hands after he caught me. But I’ll order you some. Here, find a comfy spot and I will be right back.”

He hurries up to the house and returns with his supplies and remote controlled boat, which Duck takes and immediately begins steering in circles. Indrid turns to a blank page and devotes himself to capture the shape of Duck’s tail, the swell of his arms and belly, the way his dark hair dries to soft waves in the sun.

Eventually, Duck guides the ship to harbor in a patch of reeds and turns his full attention to Indrid, asking him how his commissions are going and if he’s had a chance to anything other than attend his fathers anxiety-inducing work partners. Indrid is so caught up in their talk and his drawings that he doesn’t think to go inside until his brother shouts several insults his way and tells him to get into the house. Before he leaves, Duck winks at him and blows him a kiss.

Apollo could call him the worst names under the sun and he wouldn’t care. Not when there’s a ghost of a merman’s kiss on his cheek.

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------

Duck knows Indrid helps his dad with some sort of design work for his firm in the mornings, which is why he’s never out with Duck until the late afternoon or evening. As summer rushes in, he finds this schedule comes with a perk: it’s hot enough in the garden that Indrid arrives in shorts and tank tops, long legs and lithe arms on full display, tempting Duck to grab them and pull their owner into the water for some fun.

This afternoon, Indrid is sporting black swim trunks with images of moths dotted across them. When Duck asks, he says the laundry is delayed (which turns out to mean his father broke the washing machine out of spite).

“Well, since you’re dressed for it, wanna join me for a swim?”

“You’re sure that’s alright?”

“Wouldn’t have asked if it wasn’t. C’mon” he holds out his hand, “promise I don’t bite. Uh. Anymore.”

Indrid laughs, thank fuck, and pulls off his shirt before dropping into the pool. Duck swims over to him, lazily circling the human as he treads water.

“Ah, one moment.” Indrid paddles back to the side, removes his red glasses, and then returns to the center of the pool. Duck’s never seen him with uncovered eyes and it’s a treat; without the glasses, he looks closer to his age, traces of vulnerability and youth hiding behind the angles of his face.

Duck returns to his circling, ignoring the fact that it’s what he’d do if he was chatting up another mer who caught his eye. Curious, he tightens the circle, letting his tail brush Indrid’s legs. Indrid’s commentary on a slasher movie he watched the previous night stutters out, and when Duck swims closer, the humans breath catches.

“Duck? What are you doing?”

“Sayin’ thanks.” he leans in and rubs his cheek against Indrid’s own, purring low in his throat, “this is how mers do that.”

“Oh” Indrid hesitantly returns the gesture, “I have hardly done much deserving of thanks.”

“Bullshit.” Duck murmurs, wrapping his arms around Indrid’s waist, “you’ve looked out for me and been on my side even when I know it got you guff from your family. You’re my friend, ‘Drid.” He moves his mouth closer to Indrid’s ear, “and if I had it my way, we’d be more than friends.”

“Really?” Indrid loops his arms around Duck’s hips, out of view of any watchful eyes in the house.

“Uh huh.” Duck nips his earload, making him squeak, “now that’s a damn cute noise.”

“Duck I, I want this so badly but if anyone finds out…I don’t know what would happen to you.” Brown eyes meet his own, “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be. It ain’t your fault any more than it’s mine” Duck pulls back some, puts his hands on Indrids thighs so he can hold him against his tail as he swims backwards, “But let’s stick to this for now. Ain’t no harm in takin’ a dip together, right?”

Indrid’s smile is a heartaching mixture of hope and resignation, “No, none at all.”

—-----------------------------------------------------

He’s learned to expect some weird shit in the Cold’s garden, but a pick-up truck speeding across the grass and turning sharply so it’s bed is to him is a new one.

When Indrid leaps from the drivers seat, engine still going, hope bubbles up in his chest.

“Drid?”

“I am getting you out of here” the tailgate thumps open, revealing a rectangular feeding trough, “there’s enough water in there to last you until we get to the river. Come on, help me”

Duck heaves himself out of the water, and Indrid helps him inelegantly into the truck. The human is already back in the car as Duck is shutting the gate and pulling himself into the trough. As they speed across the manicured lawns and out onto the highway, he wonders how long Indrid has been planning this; he knows the human has a friend who owns a truck, and he’s clearly paid attention whenever Duck talks about the boundaries of his territory.

Lo and behold, Indrid takes a right into the swamps, the truck bumping and jostling as he pulls up to a chunk of river with a tree split like an L in the center of the water.

He’s brought Duck home.

The human hops back out of the car, gesturing for Duck to hurry. And he intends to, but not before he asks the main thing on his mind.

“What are you gonna do?”

“I, I will be in Kepler, the little town a half hour up the coast. I bought a plane ticket to Bogota, so they won’t look for me in Kepler. If they look for me at all.”

“‘Drid-”

“I will be alright. I promise. Now please, go. If they followed us, I don’t want you getting caught a second time.”

Duck grabs Indrid’s face, kisses him as hard as he dares, and then vaults out of the truck and into the water. A safe distance down river, he raises his head to see taillights disappearing into the darkness. He blows them a kiss and dives, home free, for the first time in months.

—----------------------------------------------------

They don’t follow him. Whether they don’t know where he’s gone or don’t care, Indrid can’t say.

What he can say is that the savings he’d hidden for years inside a fake skull on his desk buys him the first months rent on an apartment by the sea, some thrifted furniture, a bike he can ride around town, and a tank for Carl, who he’d snuck from the pond the afternoon before the escape.

It’s been a week and there’s no sign of Duck. Indrid knew this was a possibility, knew freeing him could mean never seeing him again and having part of his heart forever swimming in the sea.

It was the right thing to do, but some selfish part of him keeps hoping he’ll look out his window to see a familiar face bobbing in the surf.

Tonight, he’s sitting on the rocks by the beach, watching the moon on the water. It clears his head, being out here, knowing there’s no one to force him inside.

A splash to his left and then he’s being rolled and held close to a damp, warm chest. When the hug loosens, he raises his head to discover he’s now laying on top of a beaming merman.

“Hey darlin, miss me?”

“God yes.”

Duck leans up, kissing his chin, “Sorry it took so long, I had to work out what patch of beach you favored. Uh” he looks at Indrid’s white tank-top, now see-through thanks to the saltwater, “sorry I got you wet. Spotted you and I was too damn excited to think about anythin else.”

“I forgive you.” Indrid kisses him once, smiling as Duck’s tongue teases his lips, “but all the same: perhaps it’s time you helped me out of my wet clothes.”

#mermay #human/monster romance #monster boyfriend #indruck #indrid cold/duck newton #taz amnesty

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internalsealpanic · 4 years ago

Text

Sealing the Deal part 2

Summary: Dick has a perfectly reasonable idea.

a/n: There will probably be more parts to this since you people gave me so many ideas but for now here is some soft smut. Did I finish this just in time for the end of mermay? Yes.

warning: Attempt at soft smut

Main Masterlist

Part 1

"Let's get married."

It takes around a minute for you to even register the fact that Dick had even said anything at all and another to parse out the meaning behind his words. You look up from the piece you've been slaving over for hours while Dick dozed on your lap.

"Let's get married." He repeats earnestly.

You narrow your eyes at him. You... clearly missed at least 2 diatribes and 40% of this conversation. "Uh Dickie, my love, did I miss the part where you divorced me or did I sleep through it like I did when Wally was preaching about raw fish?" You set your tools down and pull his pelt more tightly around you, feeling oddly protective of it.

Seeing you wrapped up in his pelt never failed to make Dick's chest flutter; unfortunately, he had to focus on the matter at hand. "As I was saying, we're married but not in the human way. "

"Ah- Yeah, I see that but.. that seems entirely unnecessary."

"There's no harm in it." Dick says, looking at you with big hopeful eyes. No matter whether it’s his liquid seal eyes or his bright baby blues, you’re still a sucker.

He is definitely up to something. Dick always uses that look when he really wants something and you can already feel yourself falling for it. Who thought giving this man the cutest face in the world was a good idea? Who?! You sigh. Spousal homicide is a bad idea, you tell yourself.

"You're so lucky you're terribly cute," you huff, "you're also lucky that there's a ferry coming tomorrow."

You mentally calculate how much time the whole trip would take but you know all that arithmetic is useless when you hazard a look at your husband. Dick beams, dimples appear at the corners of his mouth, and makes the happiest little noises.

You lean over the railing, watching the sea and feeling the wind comb through your hair. A pair of arms wraps around you making you squeak.

Dick buries his face in your hair and he sweeps you into his arms. "How's the most beautiful creature in the world?"

"Dunno Dick, how are you?" You smile.

Dick sniffles. "You're not allowed to be this cute."

"Hypocrite." You laugh wrapping your arms around him.

He nudges his face against yours.

"Are you liking your first boat ride?"

"I could still swim faster." Dick hums.

You roll your eyes. "Sadly for us, I can't."

"It's ok," he says, brushing his lips against the shell of your ear," it just means you can't escape me on this boat."

"Pfffft!"

"You're saying that now but look who I have in my hold." He chuckles, lips brushing against your neck.

"We're in public you dork!" You squeal.

"And?"

You sigh."You just like embarrassing me."

"Yup. Just ask Jaso- What's that?!" Dick says pointing to a statue on the shore. It was tall and proud with hair cascading down like a waterfall with a visage as hard as the rock it's carved on. You narrow your eyes trying to recall what the local told your father when you were younger.

"Oh, it's... It's a sea goddess I believe or maybe a selkie." You shrug at Dick who looks at it in awe. You supposed this is the first time he's seen a statue that big.

"I thought you said the people on the mainland didn't believe in selkies?"

"Er... ok, so there are mainlanders who are more inland where I come from and there's people near the sea. No, there are more divisions than that but- Ok, so the place where I came from the sea wasn't as important but here it is so they probably have more folk tales."

"I guess that makes sense," Dick says burying his face in your hair. "Did you have any folk tales?"

"Some but it was mostly cautionary about maidens being stolen away."

"Guess you didn't listen to them, huh?" he says, "did they say anything about stealing hearts?" Dick winks one of those winks that only he could make cute.

You huff into your scarf. "More about eating them, I think."

"I can do that if you want." He smirks cheekily.

You pat his cheek, trying to be as irritatingly condescending as possible. "You're still not scary."

Dick takes your hand in his and brings it closer to his lips. He pretends to bite at your fingers, his sharp canines dragging along the skin and nipping at the joints. "It’s because I love you so much."

Dick alternates between gawking at perfectly common sights like large cargo ships and flocks of sheep on the cliff and teasing the life out of you for the rest of the ferry ride.

You are the tiniest bit mortified that several passengers have seen your husband drag his teeth over your skin and toss you in the air for the fun of it. Dick was horrible at keeping a low profile. Not that acting reserved would have mattered anyway given how everyone's eyes were always drawn to him.

You can't blame them, his laughter is infectious and his smile was enough to make the gloomy morning look like a bright summer afternoon. You really really don't blame them for gawking but you just wish they wouldn't.

Not even fifteen minutes onshore and you're reminded why you only ever went into town with your father. Being meek by nature, you're often the target for unruly sailors. It never got too bad, not enough for you to call the cops at least. You would be lying if you wish it wasn't such a common occurrence to have some random guy shove his hand down your back pocket and squeezes your ass.

You jump, nearly dropping the little map of shops your father had drawn for you a while ago. A man passes behind you snickering quietly and yeah, knocking his teeth in would be amazing.

"Hey buddy, do you mind apologizing?" Dick asks, his voice dangerously pleasant.

There's a gnawing sense of foreboding forming in your stomach. It squirms in your gut until you grab Dick's sleeve. "Dick," you hiss, "it's not worth it."

You'd looked at the man and sadly, it really wasn't worth getting Dick's face punched in on his first visit to the mainland. You don't think anything worth getting Dick hurt.

The men turn back to your and the dread in your stomach solidifies. Even your dad was never dumb enough to piss off sailors especially ones built like I train would be dented when hitting them.

"I don't see the problem, pretty boy," the man spits like he'd said the word fungus, "The lass doesn't have a problem with it, do you?" He leers at you. It makes your skin crawl. He steps closer, invading your space, and places a hand on your shoulder. "This lassy here and I go waaaay back." He says, sliding his hand down your arm. You have absolutely no doubt that this man is sloshed because you have never seen him before in your life. You are pretty plain, so that makes sense but yeah, this is the first time you've seen his mug.

"A lass like you shouldn't be dressing like that if you know what's good for you."You open your mouth to protest but only manage to tighten your grip on Dick's sleeve.

There's a split second between Dick flickering his eyes to you and the satisfying sound of a fist making contact with a jaw. The man falls to the ground narrowly avoiding smashing his head into the cobblestones.

"Get up and apologize to her." Dick growls, teeth bared. He pushes forward. You're about as stunned as the man on the ground. Dick's poised for a fight and you have no doubt he'll have no problem getting into a row. You need to stop Dick from doing anything stupid. You wrap your arms around his waist, squeezing your eyes shut. You bury your face into his coat. You want to tell him that it's fine, that you're used to things like this, that you don't want him to get hurt. This whole thing isn't worth him getting hurt. You're not worth him getting hurt. But the only thing you can manage is a weak "It's not worth it."

Dick squeezes your hand. You're trembling and Dick feels awful for scaring you but he doesn't stop glaring at the man. He guesses he's made his point loud and clear. He softens a fraction, maneuvering you to his side and wrapping an arm around you. There's still a snarl caught in the back of his throat but contrary to popular belief, Dick isn't hot-headed enough to ignore you. All he wants to do now is get you to safety.

You squeeze him with your arms, your face still scrunched as if bracing for impact. "Let's go shopping for those rings, yeah?"

Dick sighs with an indulgent smile. "Ok, honey." He kisses the crown of your head. "I love you, I’m sorry."

"Don’t be sorry," you say, snuggling tighter into him. "You know I only want you and--” That wasn’t even the point. You are really bad at this. “--and you really should be more careful. What if you got hurt?"

"Did you miss that killer right hook? He sure didn't."

A small smile shapes your lips. "Moron."

"Still love me though." He says, bringing your knuckle to his lips.

You shake your head. "It's unfortunate really."

"You know the more time I spend here the less I believe the fact that you didn't know what selkies were," Dick says holding up another seal necklace.

You look at him, wince at the bruise blooming on his knuckle but continue. "My dad and I went into town twice a year and they were only ever day trips." You say, setting down a cheap shot glass with a blubbering seal. It wasn't strictly a lie. It was more of a guesstimate. You look away from him and mumble a "I thought they were called Setties."

Dick snorts loudly and you have a heart attack thinking he reverted back to his seal form. "Setties?" He snorts again and you think he's gonna suck in all the dust from the store.

"Yes, Setties." You repeat grumpily, "I was 7. Cut me some slack!"

"When have I ever cut you some slack?"

"Never."

"Mhm, exactly."

"Why do I love you again?"

"Because I'm the cutest person, you know?"

"I dunno, Dickie." You drawl, picking up a couple of little seal stuffed toys. They were cute with their round faces and distended bodies. Their black eyes didn't quite do justice to your favorite trouble maker but they're close enough in huggableness."These little guys could give you a run for your money."

Dick makes an affronted squawk. You hold them to Dick's face for inspection and ask: "Should we buy the black one or the white one?" Truly, a matter of life and death.

Dick scrunches his face in thought. "The black one obviously."

"But the white one looks cute too." You whine.

Dick gives you a grumpy pout. You ignore him. "Why don’t we get both?"

Dick crosses his arms. "Why-"

"Yanno... A pair like us..." You say, pulling them closer to your chest and looking up at him hopefully.

Dick looks at you wearily. "How could I argue against such a solid argument?" Dick says, tousling your already windswept locks.

"What do you think I’d look like as a seal?" You ask absently as you exit the store. You'd managed to drive the price down with a little haggling and a bit of distraction from Dick.

"Beautiful."

You grin at him. "Again buttering me up won't make me buy you more sweets."

"I can think of other things to eat." Dick says, his pink tongue darting over his lips as he looks at you.

You swallow, mouth feeling dry. Dick is horrible to you today.

The old antique shop was dustier than you remembered. Part of you suspects that the particles sprinkled on all the shelves is in fact just the old owner's cremated remains but you don't really wanna find out if it's true.

You comb through the shelves, feeling like a pirate in search of treasure. The expensive rings with their big rind stones were stowed away on a shelf behind the shopkeeper but everyone one knows that if you want the good stuff you have to search for it yourself.

Dick seems to be happy looking through all the strange knickknacks, so you carry on.

You nearly squeal with glee when you find a ring. It was a band of silver carved into the shape of a seal curling in on itself as it slumbers. You smile holding it close to your chest. "Give me your finger."

"That... is a very strange way to put it."

"Just give me your hand." You say holding out your own. Dick, still incredulous, puts his hand in yours. You bite back a smile as you put the ring on his ring finger. Your lips stretch even as you dig your teeth in. It was a good fit. You're embarrassed to say you were bouncing on your heel with excitement.The silver looks lovely against his tanned skin.

Dick inspects it. "And you said subtlety wasn't my element."

"It really isn't," you say, smiling down at his hand. "But I never did say it was mine either." You could easily find another ring if he doesn't like it but you're quietly hoping he does. You try not to watch his face, not read too deeply into his expressions.

"I like it. Let's try to find a matching one."

Much to your amusement, you did find something but it's.... You snort as you put it on.

"It kind of matches." Dick says wearily.

"It's a fish." You laugh.

"Um... it's a pretty silver fish."

"Absolutely ravishing, huh?"

"Exactly like my wife." Dick says, nipping at your ear.

Your ear burns and you cover it hastily.

"Let's just go pay for them." You say, shoving at him lightly.

"So you do like it?" He asks, peaking through your fingers.

"Yes, you dork. Now, stop being cute." You say, shoving him again.

"Never." He chuckles.

"Is this the statue from the harbor?" Dick asks, poking at the little replica on the shopkeep's counter.

"Aye lad, the natives worshiped the sea before we came along. Kooky fellows but they knew a thing or two about the sea. They even talked about the selkie. Those blood-thirsty women folk of the sea. "

Dick scrunches his nose. You press the heel of your palm to your lips holding back a laugh.

"Well, I’ve heard some different of stories." Dick says, leaning into the counter, his eyes shining mischievously.

The old shopkeep leans in, looking around. "Like what?"

Dick leans in a bit more, his voice hushed and conspiratorial. "I hear they try to trap fair maidens into marriage to bear children for them."

Dick winks unabashedly. You flush. "What?!"

"C'mon lad," the shopkeeper snorted like a walrus, "we all know that all selkies are women folk."

"That’s the thing," Dick says, resting his hands on his intertwined fingers. He grins. "I’ve been out at sea a while, my whole family has aaaaand," he drawls in his other voice. The shopkeep looks entranced. "We've heard of different tales."

"Do tell."

"My family have heard tales of male selkies, those who seek women to carry on the selkie way." Dick pushes off the counter, spinning around on his heel theatrically. "We heard of old lore when they used to kidnap unsuspecting women by the sea shore." You vaguely recall this version but it seemed like ages ago. "But now," he says, stepping closer to you. "Now, they are much more persuasive." Dick winks at you and you resist the urge to elbow him.

"I also heard they're quite persistent." You say, leaning against him.

"Quite." Dick says a little too fondly.

"Hnnn, never heard that one." The shopkeep says tilting his head. "Do you have anymore?"

"Oh, I have a ton of seafaring stories if you'd like. I’ve heard stories about the Cthulhu."

"Cthulhu?"

"The great horror of the deep."

"The only horror here is the lack of treasure chests." The shopkeep huffs. You would be inclined to agree if Tim and Damian weren't so good at finding them.

"Oh this is no tall-tale my friend," Dick says, wrapping an arm around the man's shoulders, "we heard that he awakes once every 10 years to roam the deep seas. Why do you think boats go missing with no trace?"

Monsoons, you think.

"Like that submarine last summer!"

Dick nods sagely "Exactly."

You want to slap your palm against your forehead. There is no way he can believe that hokey, right? ... You are literally married to a selkie. Do you really have any room for skepticism? You sigh. You suppose not.

"The sea is a mysterious maiden just like those sires. A tricky bunch, slippery and smart not like mermaids."

"Have you ever heard one?!" The shopkeep nearly folds over the counter.

"Once when I’d been at sea for 4 months, I heard the most beautiful song in my life, kind of like a mirage but it was a misty night at sea."

The shopkeeper gasps.

You blink. This is news to you.

"Luckily, my father pulled me from the towboat before I set off towards it." You try to imagine it and somehow it's funnier than the idea of Dick being bloodthirsty.

Dick regails Bruce's spat with a sea witch and Alfred's horrifying tale with a kraken. Even you were enthralled by all his tales. Having the shopkeep thoroughly wrapped around his finger. He leans in close again. "Sorry, I got so lost. How much were these rings again?"

The man blinks as if resurfacing from a trance. "A sea-loving man like you? You can keep it for five coffers."

You gape at him, eyes blown wide. That’s less than what you pay for bread.

The man turns to you. "Lass, you better keep an eye on him. This one belongs to the sea."

He's... not wrong.

"You really are too kind," Dick says handing the money over.

"Anytime lad. Feel free to come back with more of your stories!" He calls out as you two walk out the door.

“Since when were you a sailor?” You ask, nudging your shoulder against his.

“Since Jay told me stories.” He answers, nudging back.

“So they were all made up?” You ask, shaking his arm.

Dick hums noncommittally.

You frown at him. “C’mon fess up, pup.”

“Not *all* of them. I just spiced up the truth, that’s all.”

“The sirens?”

Dick freezes.

“Wait, are sirens real?” You gape, pounding your hand on his chest.

“Well, kinda.”

“Kinda?!”

Dick walks ahead of you trying to avoid your question. He does the mature thing and plugs his ears with his fingers. You continue to pester him all the way down the street.

The scent from the bakery wafted in the air calling to both of you as you two continue to bicker. Your stomachs cry out in a chorus. You look at your watch. You knew you'd forgotten something.

"I'll get us something to eat," Dick says, clearly staring at the cupcakes. Getting cupcakes wouldn't hurt. It would be better than getting an actual wedding cake.

You shake your head. "I might sit for a bit." You say handing him your purse and wrenching the bags from his grip. He huffs but doesn't complain.

You park yourself on a bench just outside the bakery. Going to town is just as exhausting as you remember it being. You lull your head back, looking to the sky. What are the odds that it's safe to just doze off here on the bench? Probably pretty low.

Dick watches you from a window, snickering. You were so cute when you're nodding off. He should probably ask if they sell coffee too because you look like you're going to need the entire pot.

He lets a woman go in front of him because Alfred taught him manners and not because he was delighted to see you nearly fold into your shopping bags. You startle and yelp then straighten up. Great seas, you're so cute.

"Hey handsome, can I get a name?"

Dick turns to the woman with an amicable smile. "Oh, the name's Dick."

"I'm ..." Dick is barely paying attention when he sees you take out one of the rings you'd bought with a stupidly happy smile on your face as you try it on. You look up at your hand and Dick can't help the twitch of his mouth.

You wave to him, feeling his eyes on you. He waves back with a thousand-watt smile.

There's a hand sprawled on his chest. "I've never seen you here before." The woman purrs. Dick steps back, feeling a bit uncomfortable.

"I'm from out of town-"

"That explains it." She says, batting her eyes.

Dick's not too concerned, not when you've just disappeared from his sight. Dick's about to run outside when he feels a familiar pair of arms wrap around his waist.

"My husband and I are just here for a day trip to run some errands." You huff glaring at the woman.

Dick wraps an arm around you, chuckling at the priceless expression on your face.

"Dickie, did you want to introduce me?" You ask sweetly.

"Sorry, I didn't quite catch your name." Dick says, feeling genuinely bad because he really wasn't paying attention. In his defense, you were distracting him.

"I'm Mia."

"I'm (Y/n)." You say trying not to puff your cheeks. You clearly just want the woman to go away.

Dick wants to pinch you for being so cute. The disgustingly sweet aura you two radiate was enough to make the woman go away. Much to your relief and Dick's amusement. Dick lets himself sink into your embrace.

Dick pinches your cheek as you get the bread from the counter. You swat his hand away with a loaf of slightly stale bread you were gonna rework later. "What?!"

"Nothing, you're just so damn cute, honey." Dick laughs, pinching your cheek again.

"Says the dork who punched someone." You say, pecking him on the lips.

Dick rolls his eyes. "He totally deserved it."

"Sure, sure."

Ok, he did.

Dick pecks your lips. "Let's go find you a bouquet and a minister so you can keep that ring on."

You flush not noticing that you haven't taken the ring off. Dick looks down at you like he's the luckiest man in the world.

“Will it still make you happy?” Dick asks, fidgeting in front of the courthouse.

You raise a brow at him prompting him to elaborate.

“Getting married without a proper ceremony, I mean.”

Ah. You clutch the bouquet of cornflowers to your chest, twining your finger with his. “As long as I have you it’ll be perfect.”

Dick sniffles. “Stop saying things like that.”

“You started~”

Dick presses his forehead against your, letting out a low trill. “I can’t wait to sign on the paper and make you my wife. Officially.”

You nudge your nose against his. “I can’t wait either.”

The minister looks between the two of you suspiciously, probably looking for signs of which one of you suggested eloping. “You may now say your vows.”

Dick takes out a crumpled sheet of paper with yellowing edges. In a cool crisp voice, he begins to speak:

“If I speak in the tongues of men or of angels, but do not have love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing. If I give all I possess to the poor and give over my body to hardship that I may boast, but do not have love, I gain nothing.”

The wind rises in your chest, tears welling up in your eyes. You try to keep yourself together.

“Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hope, always perseveres.”

You cup your hand over your mouth, your father’s words coming to life through Dick’s voice.

“Love never fails.”

Dick reaches out to you, wiping the tears running down your face. You don’t know if Dick knows how much that meant to you but you’re endlessly thankful.

You feel flush. You’re not really sure you could follow that up. God, you really should have prepared more. You take a deep breath and will yourself not to turn tail and run.

Set me as a seal upon your heart,

as a seal upon your arm;

for love is strong as death,

passion fierce as the grave.

Its flashes are flashes of fire,

a raging flame.

Many waters cannot quench love,

neither can floods drown it.

If one offered for love

all the wealth of one’s house,

it would be utterly scorned.

Dick looks at you, fondness curving his lips. You smile back at him sheepishly.

The minister clears his throat. “You may now kiss the bride.”

Dick picks you up and spins you around then brings you close to kiss you. You giggle at his theatrics. In the corner of your vision, you could see the minister just looking extremely tired.

“Give me the bouquet.”

You don’t mainly because you have a policy of making people explain things before you do anything and also because you were hoping to throw the bouquet yourself.

Dick tilts his head. “Uh, give me two.” He pauses. “Please?” “Will you promise me this won’t curse anyone?”

“Just because my dad’s girlfriend is a sea witch does not mean I curse people.”

“And you feel absolutely no need to unpack that, huh?”

“Sweetie, pleeeeeease.” He gives you the big eyes and you silently wonder how selkie divorce works.

You hand him two flowers. He pinches off the stems and says: “Hold out your hands.”

“Can I at least know what kind of ungodly ritual my husband is suckering me into?” You huff as he puts one of the cornflowers in your palms.

“It’s more superstition really. My mom used to say that if you tell a flower about your love for someone and let the sea carry it away, then your love will be able to weather storms.”

You want to tell him that based on the stories the sea had nothing to do with the ferocity of his parent’s love but when you look back into the glitter of nostalgia in his eyes you know that there is nothing for it.

You hold the cornflower close, whispering promises to it, an endless litany of devotions that you hope only the sea will hear. Dick beside you does much the same with regular pauses and additions to his. When you’re both finished, you let the flowers fall harmlessly into the water and watch them, despite all odds, drift together in the ocean.

Dick nuzzles you into the floor. You lay flat on his pelt as Dick hovers over you. He kisses you, nipping at your bottom lip. You hum and slide your hands up his back and part your lips to give him access. Dick pulls away, dragging his lips down your face. His teeth graze on the skin of your neck. Feeling ticklish, you giggle. He smiles pressing another wet kiss to your skin before pulling back. You whine already missing the close contact.

"I think we forgot something." Dick says, gently grasping your wrist and kissing it.

You furrow your brow. You play with his hair as you try to think. "Pretty sure we did everything," you mumble. You shiver when you feel Dick's teeth catch on your pulse, his luminescent eyes staring at you intently. "I'm telling you, sweetheart, you're forgetting something."

You groan. It would be easier to think if Dick's lips weren't on your skin. "We've gotten the rings, thrown the rice, and hit Wally in the head with the bouquet..." You bite back a squeak when Dick sucks a hickey onto your wrist.

"Getting warmer, darling."

You flush. You try to control your breathing but your skin feels so hot against his. You and Dick have met with a minister and he's also carried you over the threshold... All that's left is...

You can feel Dick's hand slide up your shirt, his hand warm against your chilly skin. "Consummation." You whisper, swallowing thickly.

Dick's eyes are bright and mischievous in the firelight. "Bingo." He lets go of your wrist and lowers himself to press a hungry kiss on your lips; it was all tongue and teeth as his hips move against yours. He pinches your nipples between his fingers drawing out a gasp from you. Dick takes this chance to deepen the kiss. He groans into the kiss when you tug at his hair.You moan against him, wrapping your legs around his waist trying to pull him closer. Your movements are clumsy, speaking to your inexperience. Dick is going to take his time with you.

Dick kisses your nose and pulls away. He can’t resist. Dick drags the shirt slowly over his body. He hears your breath hitch and a vain sort of pride fuels Dick’s ego. It was one thing for other people to tell him he was pretty. It was an entirely different thing to have you look at him with so much awe and reverence. That look in your eyes always makes his skin prickle with delight.

You trace the shape of his muscles with your fingers, your mouth parted slightly as you drink in the sight of him. Dick is no less awe-inspiring than the first time you saw him. You marvel over the scars crisscrossing his chest and arms. None of the imperfections on his skin ever managed to dull his beauty. Unfairly, they only enhanced it and took your breath away every time you noticed a new detail about him. Your hand drifts down to the V of his abs; the tough makes him tremble as it dips closer to the hem of his pants. Dick takes in a sharp breath before kissing you again. It was partly because he could never get enough of your lips and partially to get your attention.

“Honey, I want to see you too.” He whispers into your lips.

Your body locks up at his words and a heat spreads across your chest, your neck, and up to your ears. Your mouth feels so dry all of a sudden and your feet turn into blocks of ice. What if Dick finds you repulsive? What if he sees you naked and he can’t stand what he sees? Will he leave or will he smile through it all the while gritting his teeth through it? You’re not pretty, not the way Dick is and you certainly can’t measure up to the other Selkies you’ve met. How the flying fuck were you supposed to compte with Babs or Kori? You seriously consider running away and hiding in your room until you feel Dick’s teeth graze against the column of your neck.

“Please.” He breathes and his voice is so thick with want that it’s enough for you to forget the desire to melt into the baseboards even for just a moment. You don’t want him to be disappointed, to know that he’s traded down. You’re scared. You don’t want to be but you’re fucking terrified.

“It’s ok,” he whispers. “I know you’re nervous.” He kisses your forehead. Dick knows he needs to be patient. He’s waited to feel all of you for this long. He’s willing just to wait a bit more if it means you’re comfortable.

You close your eyes, grabbing the hem of your shirt. Dick kisses your eyelid. He bites his lip, resisting the urge to sink his teeth into your flesh. It’s so supple and hot against his. Instead, he busies himself by helping you out of your bra but his fingers are clumsy with his brain too full of your skin. You giggle as you both fumble for the clasps.

Dick wastes no time peppering your chest with kisses once you’re completely bare. “So pretty.” Dick purrs against your chest. He nuzzles into the valley of your breasts as he feels your breaths even out. Sliding his hands up and down your sides reverently, he makes certain that you know just how beautiful you are with every bite, every kiss, and every touch.

His attention goes to your breasts. You arch your back as Dick begins rolling your nipples between his teeth. He savors all the little gasps and mewls you make. "Dick." You sigh out his name happily. Dick groans, hips gyrating against yours. "Dick." You repeat, tugging at his hair. You rock your hips in time with his.

Your voice is driving him insane. The way his name rolls off your tongue like silk fries his nerves. All he wants to do is make you scream it over and over while he takes care of you and lets you know just how good you feel against him.

"That's it baby, let me make you feel good."Dick says, giving your nipple one last lick before taking care of the other. "I wanna make you feel so good, sweetheart."

The husky quality of his voice makes you shiver. Your fingers travel down his back, fingernails lightly scraping against his skin. He trembles against your as you slide your hand down his chest and down his pants. Your fingertips brush against the head of his member. You wrap your hand around his cock, teasing his head with your thumb. Your thumb is wet with his precum as Dick pants softly into your skin. Dick can't help but move against your hand.

"Sweetheart," he grunts, " I can't... I-"

Dick grasps your wrist, pressing a kiss to it before pulling it over your head. You whine. Dick's breaths tickle your ear as he tries to steady them. He kisses your cheek and nibbles on your ear. Dick grabs your other arm and pins it down next to the other, pinning both hands with one hand. You squirm underneath him, trying to break his hold.

"Let me take care of you." He says, trying to level his voice but you're making it so hard.

You drag your leg up his calf. Dick brushes his lips down your neck, sucking a hickey into every available surface of your skin on the way down your hips and murmuring ‘I love you’ as he does.

"Dick, please." You moan.

"Sweetheart," Dick says, biting the soft flesh of your hip.

You wriggle in his grip causing the hand wound around them to tighten. Dick watches you intently as he bites another hickey into the flesh or your hip. You gasp out his name and Dick can feel his cock twitch. He needs more.

“Shhhh, I know, Honey. Shhhhhh.” Dick says, kissing along the hem of your pants before his teeth catch on the fabric. Dick tugs the button free and pulls the zipper down with his teeth. You think your heart stops. Every little thing he does drives you up the wall. He hooks his fingers to the top of your pants and pulls them down slowly. You can feel the fabric drag against your skin as Dick presses I love yous up your leg.

Dick bites lightly at your ankle as he tosses your pants over his shoulder. Dick licks his lips, they’re plush and glossy from the saliva. He’s looking at you with so much love and adoration that you feel yourself melt. You’re suddenly painfully aware of your nakedness. You snap your legs shut shyly, withdrawing your ankle from his hold. You curl in on yourself, muttering an apology.

He shakes his head, chuckling softly. Dick pushes the hair out of your face. He presses his forehead against yours, kissing you softly and running his hands up and down your sides. Your legs slowly open to let his body closer to yours. You just want to feel his skin against yours.

"I love how your body reacts to me, honey." Dick winks.

You wrap your arms around him, your muscles relaxing a fraction. He can feel the ring on your finger dig into the back of his neck. You are his and he is yours. Dick trills at the thought. You laugh, the vibrations from his lips tickling you.

"I love you. You know that, don't you?" Dick asks, nibbling your lip.

"The whole world knows," you snort, "especially after that fiasco at the town square."

"I had to protect my wifey's honor." He says with a cheeky smile that takes over his face.

"Somehow, I feel like knocking his teeth in was a bit much." You say, pulling him into another kiss because... well, your husband is awfully adorable even if he is a disaster.

"Only seems fair," he says, his hand travelling down your body, kissing your clavicle, "he was being rude to my wife." Dick's fingers dip between your soaking folds. You were dripping just for him. Dick would be lying if he said that didn't inflate his ego. With his fingers curled inside you as he drags them in and out, you arch into him. You thread your finger through his hair and pull.

"Dickie, I want you," you whisper, rubbing your knee against his crotch. "I want you so much."

Dick ruts against your leg, breath ragged and desperate. Dick's body is so sensitive to your touch; it's ridiculous.

"I want you too." He manages barely above a whisper.

"Then fuck me, " you look away from his, biting your lip, "please?"

"Honey," he groans. God, why did you have to say it like that? "You're going to make me cum."

"Isn't that the point?" You ask, your nails dragging on his back as you try and fuck yourself on his fingers.

What did Dick do to deserve you?

"It is," he says, taking his hand out of your folds. "But not before I can make you cum first." He licks his fingers in front of you never breaking eye contact as he does.

You cover your face and squeak because damn it Dick you can't just- Who does that?!

Dick hastily shimmies out of his pants, his cock springing free. You hear a pap as his cock slap against the toned muscles of his stomach. You squeak, peaking through your fingers, the slap ringing sinfully in your mind. Dick lets out an amused breath as he hovers over you. Stroking his length, he smears the precum along your inner thigh, whispering how much you turn him on and how he can't get enough of you.

"Sweetheart, I want you to look at me while I fuck you." He grunts and the air in your lungs evaporate. You think you'll follow suit in a few seconds. "Sweetheart, don't make me beg you."He says into your neck.

Dick, you're not helping, you think to yourself but the saccharine way he always says your pet names has you giving into the request. Dick is smiling down at you and your heart melts. He kisses you deeply. You wrap your limbs around him, your heels digging into the small of his back and your fingers tangled in his locks as he slowly enters you.

He moans into your lips and you moan into his. There's a burning stretch inside you that has you begging for more. He bottoms out and your walls flutter around his cock trying to accommodate his girth. A shiver travels up his spine feeling your velvet walls trying to milk his cock. Dick pulls away from the kiss to whisper: "I love you."

"I love you too, hubby. Please move."

"Aye aye, wifey." He says slowly, pulling his length out. You can feel the long drag of his cock against your walls. You mewl for a lack of anything intelligent to say.

The sound is enough to egg him on. He pushes in and out of you in long strokes, enjoying how your body rocks against his chasing your own pleasure. You pepper kisses to his chest and leave your own marks. Dick would be embarrassed by the lewd noises he makes as you do so but he's too caught up in you to really care. He doesn't even care if the whole world can hear him right now, all he cares about is that you're his and that you're loving this as much as he is.

"Baby, you feel so good. Your pussy was made for me. Ah!" Dick says, his hips stuttering when he feels you clench at those words. He kisses your shoulder. He loves the way his name falls from your lips as if it's the only thing you know how to say. "That's it baby. You're so pretty moaning and gasping and begging for my cock."

All Dick can focus on is the sound of your skin slapping against his. You kiss up his neck, nibbling at his Adam's apple as he swallows. "Dickie, I want more."

Dick's mind comes crashing to a halt.

"Dick, please. I want to feel you more. Please, go faster." You say, voice husky with want. It makes Dick feel like his body has turned to gelatin.

He kisses your forehead, a blush spreading across his skin. "Sweetheart, I can't."

"Please Dick." You breathe, pouting at him.

Fuck, you can't look this cute while begging him to fuck you... twice. That's just not fair.

"Sweetheart, if I go any faster, I'm going to cum." The embarrassment is hard to hide.

You drag your nails across his back and lick a stripe up his neck." Dick, I want you to fill me up. Dick, please, I'm so close." You beg, teeth catching on his collarbone, looking at him with watery eyes.

Dick is a sucker and he can never say no to a pretty face. He kisses one of your eyelids before slamming his hips into yours. His balls slap against your skin as he thrusts in and out with wild abandon. He thrusts deeper at an angle that was sure to hit your g spot every time.

You sing his name sweetly as you pull him closer. Your nipples rub against his chest as you bounce on his cock. Your walls constrict around him making it harder to pull out every time. All he wants to do is to stay inside you and revel in your warmth but he wants to bring you over the edge and fuck you stupid. He rolls your clit between his fingers as you whimper into his neck.

You both cum crying each other's name. Dick kisses you as he fucks you through your orgasm, painting your walls with his hot seed.

Dick rests his weight on top of you as he pulls out with some of his seed painting your inner thigh. "I love you." He pants.

"I love you too, you heavy lug." You grouse, trying to push him off of you.

Dick has mercy on you and rolls you two over with you resting on top of him, perfect for cuddling you.

Dick whispers "I love you" and other praises every time he opens his mouth and you return the sentiment by kissing a different part of his face.

After a few moments of basking in the afterglow, Dick flushes seeing just how many hickeys he's left you and he flushes even harder seeing his own chest marked up.

"Sorry about that," He says kissing one of the marks. "I just can't help myself-" Kiss "-You look so pretty covered in love bites-" Kiss "-Sweetheart, you gotta stop sounding cute. I'll get hard again- Fuck."

Your hand wraps around his shaft, fingers brushing against his skin experimentally. "But I want you." You say bluntly.

Dick is going to combust. "I want you to. I've wanted you like this for so long."

You stop. Your thumb brushes against the tip of his already leaking cock. Your lips curl into a smile. "Is that why you were so adamant on getting married?" You snicker, booping his nose with yours.

"No, yes, maybe... partially." He stammers out.

You snort. "You know that wasn't necessary for us to..." The flush creeps back on your lips. You somehow have the audacity to look shy while still stroking his shaft. Dick is going to burst.

"I didn't want you to miss out on it," Dick says steadying his breath, feeling himself get harder as he talks or attempts to, "I wanted you to experience it since you told me you dreamt about it as a kid."

You stop and Dick bucks to urge you to keep going.

"You remembered that?" You ask, the expression on your face is complicated.

Dick sits up, brushing a finger against your cheek. "Of course, I did."

"Dork." You sniffle, kissing his cheek.

"Only for you," He laughs but it's cut off by the movement of your hand. "Sweetheart, are you trying to kill me?" He gasps, biting into his knuckle.

"I'm only thanking you for being so sweet." You tease, spreading your mixed juices all over his cock. "and I just love my hubby that's all."

____________________________________________________________

Thanks for reading!!!!!!

Tag list: @batarella, @anothertimdrakestan, @lucy-roo, @multifandomgirl-us, @idkmanicantenglish , @birdy-bat-writes, @boosyboo9206, @americasmarauders , @l-inkage, @arestorationofbalance , @cloudie-skay, @wunderstell @hyp-oh-critical @glorified-red @ marshmallow12435 @vvipgot7be @jadedhillon

#dick grayson #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson x you #dick grayson imagine #dick grayson smut

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merlinbingo · 4 years ago

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My dear lovely bingoers!

As I'm sure you all know, today is the end of the month and therefore the end of the bingo, and oh my god are you guys working hard! You've submitted an incredible 95 fills so far this month, which is just 🤯🤯🤯

Anyway, the end of the round equals announcement time:

Announcement the first - Creating a mod team!

I am delighted to welcome two co-mods to the event, @ravengirl42 and @invisibility-superiority! They've both been lovely, enthusiastic participants in round one, and have volunteered to help out with things to come. Everyone give them a big cheer and a warm welcome, okay?

Announcement the second - Masterposts

The deadline for masterposts is 7th November, which means it's about time I told you what I want to see on the masterpost.

Your bingo masterpost should be a list of all the fills you've created for the bingo. If you want to put your bingo card on there, you can – I love actually seeing just how many squares people have crossed off!

In terms of format, I was thinking something like:

Square (number and prompt) - Title - Ship - Rating - Major tags/warnings - Format - Word count (if applicable)

(If you want an example just to help you out, here is my masterpost!)

Announcement the third - What happens next?

In a slight change to my original plans, November will be amnesty month. If you joined midway through the round and missed out on the early bonus badges, or if the thought of your very own bingo card was too daunting and you didn't sign up at all, now is your moment!

In November, you can create fanwork(s) fitting any of the bonus badge themes and claim the relevant badge(s)!

The bonus badge themes are as follows (click on the month for more details):

February (femslash)

March (journeys)

April (recs & gifts)

May (MerMay)

June (Pride)

July (free time)

August (AUs)

September (food/Autumn)

October (one off characters/items/places)

These don't have to fill squares on your bingo card, anyone can take part, and I'll throw out a simplified form on the 1st November that you can fill out when you post things to make sure we know about your fanwork and you get your badge!

Announcement the fourth - Round two!

I've mentioned before that we'll be running another round next year, but here is definite confirmation for you all: we're coming back! Sign ups for round two will open in the new year, and we've got some more stuff planned to fill the time until they do!

If you've got any questions, just ask and we shall do our best to answer you 🙂

As ever, we look forward to seeing what you create next!

Love,

The Mods

#merlin bingo #round two coming soon #final day to post fills for round one #new mods #november amnesty #bbc merlin #merlin fests #merlin fandom #bonus badges

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areiton · 4 years ago

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sunlight caught in water - stony

Hey look at me posting my fic on tumblr like it’s 2020 again. Here’s my contribution to Mermay.

Read on AO3

~*~

The boy comes to the water every summer, sunshine bright and beautiful. And below the waves, hidden in the shoals, you watch.

~*~

He’s with a woman, the first time, frail and small next to her side and you watch him stumble, watch him fall, and his hands splash down in your water.

You strain against the arms holding you, against the edicts that keep merkin safe, because you see him coughing but he’s laughing too, bright and beautiful, and he splashes in your waves, and you want to splash with him, see those blue eyes trained on you.

The woman scoops him up and carries him, dripping, into the sand and sunlight and you go limp in Jarvis’ arms, and his tail twines with your tentacles, soothing some of the sad loneliness.

~*~

The boy comes back. Every summer, he comes back, and you watch. As the years slip by, the woman vanishes, replaced by a dark haired boy with hands that are gentle as they help the golden bright boy you can’t look away from.

He’s still too small, frail and blinding beautiful, and you still drift under the waves and watch him.

Jarvis doesn’t always go with you, anymore. The migrant currents that bring you past the golden haired boy are harsh and cold, and you think that he’s better left in the warm tropics, where the waves aren’t troubled by metal boats and rippling searching waves and sleek submarines that hunt like sharks in the dark.

The waves whisper stories, and your cousins carry tales, and you twist in the waves, searching the shore for your sunshine boy because the world is at war, again, the waves twist bloody and the deep swallows up the bodies of too many.

The coldwater merkin feast and you--you hide in the dark, craft your nets and drag them back, the ones who might survive, and you can hear them screaming when you flip in the water and vanish, a cloud of dark dark tentacles and red gills.

You save them, as many as you can find, and you search the shore for a boy you don’t find.

And once, just once, you see someone with sunshine bright hair and seablue eyes and a body as big as a coral reef and you think he’s yours, your boy, because his smile is the same and he splashes in your waves and it sings against your skin like a familiar song sung out of tune.

Then he’s gone and you think he isn’t, he isn’t, he can’t be.

~*~

Rhodey chases you.

You love him for it, for his devotion, for the saltwart presence of him behind you, always. His dark skin and gunmetal shark fins scare off most who follow, scare off the sharks and curious dolphins and the orca.

You love him for chasing you even when you know he doesn’t understand, can’t understand, because he’s never seen your golden sunlight boy smiling into the waves like he can see through them and see you.

You love him for it, because you are strange and other in your pod, with your dark flashing tentacles and darkwater eyes, an egg hatched strange in the warm water beds, alien and wrong. You grow up quick and bright and bored and Jarvis says you’re perfect, exactly where you should be, but the only time you feel like you belong is when you’re swimming with Rhodey and letting Jarvis’ strong arms carry you through the currents, and hiding out of sight in the shoals under a sunbright boy’s unknowing gaze.

~*~

The tides whisper.

The waves tell a story.

Of a bright burning soldier and the war tide he’s turning.

Of blood brothers and a daring rescue and tired feet tramping through dry forests.

Of a war torn beach and thousands of bodies surrendered to the waves, and you shiver, and shake and it’s not him, it’s not him, it’s not him.

Your sunbright boy shakes the world and you chase him as far as the waves will let you and hope that the tides will bring him home.

~*~

When it happens.

When the ocean trembles.

When the waves shatter, rocked by an explosion that wakes the monstrous deep--

When it happens, you’re still riding the currents with Rhodey, in bloody water turned bitter with war, and you feel it, feel the tsunami wave that throws you through the water, rips you from Rhodey and your pod and you scream, and crash into the rocks.

~*~

You wake.

To darkness lit by your strange deepwater gaze.

You wake.

To pain and ripping heat.

You wake.

To unfamiliar fins and the deep deep silence of the monstrous waves, where nightmares swim.

You wake.

And wish you could die.

~*~

You’re smart.

Cephalopods are always smart, and you think of Rhodey, gunmetal gray and worried eyes and you think of Jarvis, his muted jeweled tones and betta fins, and you think of the migrant currents and your sunbright boy smiling into the waves, and you swear you’ll survive.

~*~

There is a merkin in the cave with you, a serious faced man with a clownfish fin and you wonder where his family is, but you never ask, because you don’t want to know.

A clownfish that swims alone is almost obscene.

~They’ll come for you~ he says and you blink at him, tired and shivering. You feel wrong, twisted, missing something essential.

The sharks have ripped away your tentacles, and you cannot swim, cannot protect yourself, can only drift against the cave floor.

~They’ll come for you,~ he says and his words are fierce. ~Don’t let them take you.~

~*~

They take him, in the end, and you--

You use your hands, clever helpful dammed things, drag yourself away while they rip him apart, and it’s silent, so quiet here in the deep, not even merkin screams to break the silence. You tuck yourself down down down, a broken bloody carcass and let the ocean hide you as you heal.

~*~

Time passes slow, and you heal slower.

But time does pass, and you do heal, and you dream, dream of a boy bright as sunlight and waves playing on your hands, and seablue eyes laughing into yours.

~*~

When you emerge.

When you emerge, you are the thing you have always feared, one of the monsters of the deep. You slip from your deepwater crevice, spill inky black tentacles across the water, and stretch in your new grown skin, and when they come, the sharks with their bloody mouths and ripping teeth--

You smile, savage in the dark, and your deepwater eyes gleam and you tear them to pieces.

~*~

You drift along the ocean currents that should feel familiar but nothing feels familiar, not anymore. Merkin drift in your wake, and you can taste their trilling fear, their whispered words shivering through the water against your skin.

Merkin do not become this, do not become at all.

The deep--the deep is made for dangerous creatures, for the sleeping giants and dark made monsters. The deep is not made for merkin, with their love of fast water and warm currents, but you have never been a normal merkin, not with your inky tentacles and curious soul and deepwater eyes.

You drift now, a giant sheltering your kin, and ache because the world feels strange and other and you miss Rhodey, like a tentacle that never grew back.

~*~

When you hear--

You hear so many things, whispers whispers whispers in the water--but there is this too.

A wave tore through the oceans and killed droves of fish, killed merkin and whales and a pod of dolphins, and it was only a family of narwhal that found it. A ship in the water, strange and metal and falling fast, and a body trapped in ice, shining as bright as the sun.

You listen, because you can’t help but listen, and turn your eyes north, north, north.

It’s not him. It’s been decades now, a thousand tides and currents changed while you hid away and grew, and your sunbright boy is long since dead, with Rhodey and Jarvis both.

~*~

Your flashing happy warm water merkin fall away. You swim north, and a pod of orca merkin find you, swim alongside you while the currents change and the tides sweep in and out and then they too turn away and you--you swim north, into water deep and cold and you find--

You find ice.

You find a boy, trapped in ice that glows like sunshine encased in waves and you breathe, the first time in decades, press yourself against the cold cold ice and wrap your tentacles around it, until you’re as close to him as you’ve ever been.

A shadow moves in the deep, and you remember the sharks, the grey flashing bellies and white ripping teeth and you want them to come, want them to take you, think you could rip them apart again, that you are better now, then you’ve ever been and you snarl, twist--

Still.

Stare.

He is so very small. Smaller than you remember, or perhaps you are just too large, now.

But he is still familiar, still your--

~Hey, Tones,~ Rhodey says. ~I knew you’d find us.~

~*~

You drift with him, and he never asks, about the monster you’ve become, only lets you carry him when the tides are too strong, when he is tired. You drift with him, and he talks, tells you of the years when you were lost, of looking for you and finding your sunbright boy instead, of staying close to him because you always found your way back to him.

You drift and sometimes, when Rhodey is swimming and you are sure that he is safe, you dive, dive down into the murky deep, where monsters sleep and the dark glitters, and you tear it apart, the metal ship that brought him into your waves, and pick through the detritus.

Pluck a round metal disk from the waves, and a glowing blue stone that hurts your eyes that you hide away, a whisper of a promise you can’t name gleaming in it’s depths. A picture, a picture of your sunbright boy and a word spilled together that you can’t say but you think might be his name.

~*~

The years pass, and Rhodey stays, and you stay, and he sleeps on in his ice, until the waters shift and tremble and the ice melts, changes the currents once again, drags him into--into murky water touched by oil and humans and you drift along with him, because you cannot leave him, will not leave him.

~*~

Loud men with rough hands and no gils, no fins, no tentacles--they pull him and his ice from your waves and you scream. The ocean trembles and shakes in your fury, but there is this, still, indisputable:

He is gone and you cannot follow.

~*~

~Rhodey~ you murmur, watching the watery shore. A sunbrigh man stands there, bereft and shoulders shaking, strange against an unfamiliar skyline, a city rising new and sharp behind him, and you linger unseen in the shallows, a monstrous shadow that has followed him his whole life. ~What if we left the ocean?~

~*~

You dive, dive, dive, and bring it up, the stone that gleams the color of your deepwater eyes, electric blue and blinding, and Rhodey watches you, something like fear and awe in his gaze, but trust too.

You smile and think of sunshine and the world melts away.

~*~

Steve watches him, the strange dark haired man with electric blue eyes and the Tesseract in one hand, and shivers in strange recognition, and a chill crawls down his spine, when Tony smiles at him, like a prey caught in the hungry gaze of some ancient predator.

He smiles, though, a flash of white teeth and it’s bright, almost blinding, like sunshine caught in water.

Steve smiles back.

#mermay #stevetony #stony #steve rogers #tony stark #mermaid!tony #superhusbands #iron man #captain america

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thecandywrites · 4 years ago

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Micro- Mermaid Chenera Part. 2

Woo, teen years in micro-merfolks lives. Growing, blossoming, having those oh so unpredictable hormones start pumping, kicking in instincts and whatnot, in what practically feels like overnight and how clique-ey even they can be. Because even in the real world, most fish do best in schools of their own kinds and using my somewhat limited knowlege about how real fish tank dynamics can work, as in who is aggressive, who is nice, who gets along with who. Who is clique-ey *cough* neon tetras *cough* and who is chill. Enjoy.

Micro-Mermay

Chenera

Part 2

When you awoke, you found both you and Nona had grown, almost overnight and now you were almost cramped in the little crevice but tangled with Nona, you continued to be.

“Chenera! Where are you?! The feed just dropped in from the feeders, you need to hurry up and come out and eat or there won’t be any left!” Abaria called after you before you lifted your head off of Nona’s chest as Nona was still fast asleep, he fed you the day before, you figured it was only right that you return the favor as you squeezed past him and left your crevice and rocketed up to the top of the tank, taking all you could hold before you raced back again.

“Like a Danio that one, so fast.” Abaria noted to Thya as they sat on one of the rocks and ate their breakfast and watched on as you appeared then disappeared again as the others either tried to flutter around you or simply get out of your way so they wouldn’t get hit by your racing self.

“Shy one she is too. Her colors changed again. Maybe she’s part rainbow fish, where her colors evolve as she ages.” Thya noted.

“She does seem a lot more green today.” Abaria had to nod as she helped her youngest ones eat their first meal, the elders leaving “the baby bits” for the youngest ones who always seemed to be hatching almost every day from all the different clutches being delivered.

“Any sign of Ethel?” Abaria asked.

“No, she left early this morning, before the feeders turned on. Still crying when she came through too.” Thya answered.

“Well if Chenera stays in here for too much longer and actually bonds to everyone else, pulling her from this tank won’t be good for her.” Abaria noted.

“But she is making all the young men in the tank strive to grow up quicker than usual, look at them, the second she came out, they tried to swarm her, but she out maneuvered them before disappearing again.” Thya returned as she pointed to the other males who seemed to swim around the cave, taking turns, looking at the mouth of the crevice and trying to see if there was any other entrance to it but you had moved one of the bits of leaves to stop up the entrance so that you and Nona could dine in peace.

“You fed me, now I feed you.” You offered to Nona when you had come inside and dumped your armfulls of food on the long blade of grass between you.

“You’re greener today.” Nona noted between mouthfuls.

“I adapt to my environment, it’s greener in here now, so it makes sense that I’m greener.” You explained as the green leaf that was shoved at the entrance now cast the space in a green glow.

“That’s awesome, here in this tank, only the rainbow micros change color, but as adults, otherwise, our colors are our colors as we grow, they don’t change.” Nona explained.

“Well, my siblings and I, we change ours all the time, every time we play hide and seek. It takes us most of the day to play one game because we all camouflage ourselves so well, or we play this other games, minnows in a hole, it’s where one of us tries to find a good hiding spot and we try to see how many we can cram into the same spot, I think at least five of my siblings could make it into a space like this, but we pack each other in quite tightly, but it can get hard to breathe when you’re in the back.” You shrugged.

“I’d like to see that actually.” Nona offered, although, he was sure you were prettier today than you had been the day before as the smallest hints of breasts started to bud on your chest. It was amazing how younglings could change so drastically overnight when they were growing up, it wasn’t until they reached 50 cycles when they were considered adults and stayed somewhat the same until they began to age. But all of that seemed so far off now.

Once you both had eaten your fill, then you both ventured out of the little space before Nona rounded up the younglings for a game of hide and seek.

Of course the first round, you were the first to get caught, your long flowing gold hair still stuck out along with your flashy colors.

And when it was your turn to seek, it was like almost all of the older boys hardly tried to “hide” at all so that you caught them first, so they could seek you second. The dwarf gourami micro that had been smitten with you the day before seemed to swoon over you now. If Fonta had said you were pudgy yesterday, the dwarf gourami micro- Larto, dwarfed you, but he was all flab at this stage, hardly much muscle underneath, he was nearly the biggest boy in the tank besides the adults who were still caring for the other clutches of eggs. And he looked at you the way you’d expect a predator to look at prey and it made you uneasy.

So when it was Larto’s turn to find you, you did what you knew best, you went up into the tall grasses that raised up like tall trees from the gravel, and tied your long hair up into a bun, put a piece of water lettuce and wrapped it around your head to hide your golden head and camouflaged yourself along the long blades of grass and other roots and without the gold visible from below or the sides. It was like you were invisible as long as you stayed somewhat still and “flowed” with the stalks of long grasses.

Larto unfortunately found everyone else in the tank, except for you, even being an arms length away from you, he nor any of the others could see you among the foliage.

“Did you check the cave?” One of the girls asked.

“Yes I checked it three times, she’s not in there!” Larto exclaimed before the others tried calling out to you but you stayed put, it wasn’t until they all claimed that you had won, and thus immune from being “it" for the rest of the day before you finally moved from your spot and they all gasped and groaned to realize that they had all seemed to search that spot repeatedly and yet not have been able to spot you at all as you swam down to them, the camouflage you had once sported, being shed and draining away and the vibrance of your colors and sheens and shimmers returning to your body and your fins the closer you swam to the group as your billowy fins seemed to surround you even while you swam ever so gracefully down to them, your hair falling from it’s previous bun and flowing behind you like a curtain of gold once more.

“That’s no fair! You have hidden camouflage!” The other girls protested as the guys themselves were too impressed and temporarily stunned and dumbfounded to voice any kind of complaint.

“I do. In my home tank, it’s what we all do, except my parents, they can’t change like the young ones can, it’s to keep us from being bait to any other fish that might try to eat us.” You calmly supplied.

“Well it’s still not fair! You have a gold head and hair, you should have stuck out like a sick fin and you shouldn’t be allowed to change like that because we can’t change like that!” Melbeth argued angrily as the other girls echoed their agreement to that.

“I shouldn’t be allowed to be myself and do what I’ve been born and apparently bred to do? To naturally camouflage?” You repeated in confusion.

“Melbeth, don’t be a sore loser, just because she was able to hide better than us, doesn’t mean it’s her fault, isn't one of the lessons that are taught to us is that survival favors those who can adapt to change? Her subspecies just mastered it, that’s all. It’s not her fault she was born that way.” Nona defended you.

“And it’s not her fault that you’re red and blue and tried to hide among some green moss. You just stood out like a sick fin too.” Larto defended as well as he came over and tried to put his arm around your shoulders but you quickly dipped and swam just out of his reach and pulled your hair from his fingers so he wouldn’t grab at it either.

“Please don’t touch me.” You requested respectfully as you swam away from him to be with the other girls, although much good it did you, because they swam away from you, isolating you further before Nona came and simply stayed by you and took your hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.

“How come he can touch you though?” Larto demanded angrily.

“Because he doesn’t look at me like you do.” You answered.

“What does that mean?” Larto demanded, clearly offended by that.

“You look at me the way I look at food. The way you look at me, makes me feel like you’re going to eat me too and I don’t like it.” You maintained with your head held high and your chest puffed out as millions of years of fighting instinct suddenly unlocked in your brain and body as your eyes focused on Larto, already mapping out how to hurt him fastest and with the most accuracy and efficiency with minimal effort on your part. He may have been twice your size but you felt like you had the heart of a fish three times his size beating in your chest.

“Hey, I’m a dwarf gourami micro ok? The only fish bigger than me are the oscar micros, the angel micros and they’re all too big even for this tank. So I can look at whoever I want, however I want.” Larto insisted as he came over and scowled at you and towered over you as the others slowly backed away except for Nona who tried to pull you back behind him but you refused to back away from Larto, refusing to give him a millimeter as you glared just as angrily and hatefully back at him.

“And I like looking at you, cause you’re the prettiest girl in here, so get used to it.” He leveled with a smug smirk as the other girls scuffed and bristled at the comparison.

“I can fix that.” You offered with a smirk of your own as you got an idea.

“Yes you can, you can give me a smile for starters.” Larto demanded before you rolled your eyes and groaned in annoyance and let go of Nona and swam down to the gravel floor to pick up a piece of gravel and began tossing it up and catching it again before picking up other ones and casually juggling them, the muscles in your arms flexing with the exercise.

“I could, but I don’t want to, so what I could do instead is I could…” You began to swim deceivingly gracefully towards Larto, two of the three pieces of gravel falling to the floor of the tank behind you as you kept the last piece of gravel behind your back and covered by your long golden hair before you got just above eye level with Larto and gave him a predatory look of your own, which both thrilled and exhilarated him but also just gave him an ounce of fear because there was a dangerous curve to your grin and he didn’t fully trust the look in your eyes either, he had looked at you with lust, but you were looking at him with thinly veiled malice.

“Poke your eyes out so you can’t look at anything, how about that?!” You seethed as you closed the distance between you and him with surprisingly great speed, headbutting him and knocking him off balance and on his side and grabbed him by the throat with surprising strength and reared your other hand back with the piece of gravel in your hand as your colors changed yet again, from a beautiful black and greens, to blood red as you saw the very real fear start to fill his eyes as you bared your teeth to him in an impressive threat display as your fins unfurled completely until you appeared to be just as big as he was as the spines of your fins stayed black and began to poke towards him.

“If you do, you’ll go into the bully tank, there are fish bigger and meaner than me who would eat you for breakfast!” Larto sputtered desperately, shocked and scared by your actions since they were the opposite of what he was expecting as he tried to loosen your grip on his throat. For being as big as he was, he was surprisingly weaker than you were at this stage in his life.

“Chenera don’t, he’s right! If the others come and see you like this, they’ll think you’re the bully and put you in the bully tank.” Nona pleaded with you as he took the piece of gravel from your grasp and let it fall.

“Let him go, he’s not worth it. Even you- are too young and too small to survive that tank. Please Chenera, let him go.” Nona pleaded before he tried to take your hand from Larto’s throat before you let Larto go, but still scratching his neck with your clawed fingertips as you let your grip off of Larto's neck which made Larto hiss in pain and reach for his neck.

“Look at me like I’m food again, and see what happens, I dare you.” You threatened Larto before you slapped him two body lengths away with your powerful body and fins before you let Nona lead you away and back to the group as your colors changed back to what they were before, but by this point, all the other younglings had seemed to make their minds up about you. You did not belong and you were obviously aggressive when you weren’t a scaredy-fish as all the girls continued to school together and away at the other end of the tank to hang out on the soft moss and bask in the bright lights and glimmer like little jewels themselves while the other males retreated to the other end of the tank rethink things. If you could be just as aggressive as a dwarf gourami- attempting to mate with you, even though you were still a bit young for it, meant you could seriously hurt them and while you may have been the prettiest girl in the tank, you weren’t worth their lives.

So all that was left was for you to sit on top of the cave with Nona that was in the middle of the tank while the adults were still inside and helping the latest clutch of eggs hatch.

“How come when I defend myself from a bully, the others shun me?” You asked Nona as you sat and sulked and cast a look over to the other girls who were playing some other game amongst the moss.

“Because dwarf gourami micros can be known to be aggressive, usually only one or two are kept in a tank like this, or kept in tanks where there are nothing but dwarf gourami mircos. Usually everyone is used to backing down from them, but to see you match his aggression, even though it was in self defense, the attitudes in this tank are, you are either aggressive like a bully or nice like the rest of us. And you’re the first one that is in between so they don’t know what to make of you.” Nona shrugged, not knowing what else to say as he sat next to you and held your hand again.

“So why aren’t you with your other friends and brothers then?” You asked him as you nodded over to the other end of the tank where the other boys were casting curious looks your way and quietly talking among themselves.

“Because I like you better than any and all of them. I know you’re not a bully or usually aggressive, but you’re brave and you have courage and you don’t let others push you around which is awesome and a first for many in this tank. Plus I know you’re not a scaredy fish either, you’re just smart enough to hide when there is danger and camouflage yourself when you’re being hunted. You’re probably the smartest fish in the whole tank because your instincts have saved your life so far and you’re smart to listen to them. You’ve been through things that no one in this tank has been through. That I’m sure if they had gone through what you had gone through, they would show some more sympathy. But they’re just younglings and they don’t know any better yet and I’m sure if they were older and more mature, they’d understand.” He comforted you before he let go of your hand to put an arm around your shoulders and grinned lopsidedly when you rest your head on his shoulder as your soft, long flowing hair surrounded both of you as he gently ran his fingers through it, he couldn’t help it, it was still the softest thing he had ever felt.

“Well thank you for staying my friend then.” You offered.

“You’re welcome, you’re a good friend to have.” He returned.

When it came time to go to sleep though, even your “half brothers and sisters” refused to let a “bully” sleep with them since the parents were sleeping with the clutches of eggs, leaving the younglings to sleep in piles in the sandy pits.

So once again, you and Nona returned to your crevice, continuing to move the gravel around, expanding the space so that it was a proper cave-like space under the cave-like hide and lined it with fresh grasses and other plants and algae to make a space comfortable for both of you as once again, Ethel was too distraught to really look at her other tanks as she passed by and went to bed.

It wasn’t for a few more days until, Ethel’s assistant, Channel, came to check up on the tanks and refill the automatic feeders and do a cleaning since Ethel was still dealing with the police and the investigation that Channel moved the big rock hide to vacuum under it and it exposed you and Nona as your first instinct was to take Nona by the hand and quickly swim to the other foliage and back him up behind you and camouflage yourself so that both of you were hidden from view.

“What the hell?” Channel said as she saw the flash of gold.

“Goldies aren’t supposed to be in this tank.” Channel said before she called Ethel.

“Yes?” Ethel answered.

“You need to come home, I think one of your gold chameleons got dropped into the odds and ends tank by those fairies.” Channel informed her boss.

“I’ll be there in twenty minutes.” Ethel immediately answered as she stopped what she was doing and had her other employees pick up where she left off and immediately rushed home.

“Where? Where’s the gold chameleon?” Ethel asked as she came over to the tank before Channel pointed you out.

“Oh thank goodness, that’s Chenera! Oh look at how she’s grown! Even with the flakes instead of the special micro-betta food, oh look at those colors! Oh if it wasn’t for that gold head, she’d be almost impossible to see, let me get the net.” Ethel said as she got her net and tried to catch you before you kept darting all over the tank with Nano in tow.

“Ethel’s trying to bring you home! Quit trying to swim away from the net! Nona called to you as you swam with all your speed as he did his best to keep up.

“To hell with that, I ain’t leaving you behind.” You insisted as you tried to hide inside one of the other hides and glue yourself to the top so you couldn't be seen.

“But don’t you want to go to your home tank? And be with your family?” Nona asked.

“I’ve been in this tank too long, they’ll probably reject me because I won’t smell right. You’re the only family I need now.” You insisted as you peeked out to see where the net was and where else you could hide.

“Chenera listen to me! You don’t belong in here. You are some kind of special micro, I don’t know what kind but special enough that you probably need special food and to live in a special tank and be with your own kind. If you get aggressive when pushed by a dwarf gourami, I don’t want to think how aggressive your family will be towards me and I’m just a guppy micro. I’d be no match to them, hell I’m no match for the platys or the mollys or anything else. This needs to happen whether you like it or not Chenera. Just let me go, so you can go back home. I will always remember you and while I will miss you like crazy, this is for the best. She’s not going to stop until you’re caught and the net is already stressing everyone out.” Nona tried to reason with you as he held your face in the darkness as little blue tears came to his eyes while they flowed from yours too.

“But I don’t want to let you go. You’re all I have!” You cried as you clung to him.

“You’re all I have too, and while I’m grateful you landed in this tank and I'm so grateful that I got to meet you and know you and I’ll never forget you or our friendship for as long as I live. Please, I know this is hard and scary. But, it’s the way things will have to be.” Nona comforted you before you kissed him as you pressed your body to his, your own camouflage matching his pattern onto you as he kissed you back just as strongly before the hide was picked up and you reluctantly let go of Nona, your long hair slipping through his fingers for the last time as you reluctantly swam into the net, casting one last longing look at Nona before the net was pushed to envelop you completely as Nona watched on helplessly as you curled into another ball, your fins covering you and shielding you from view as you cried at being parted from Nona as you were picked up and Ethel held you and a little bit of water in the palm of her hand as she carried you over to your family’s tank around the corner and out of view from the odds and ends tank.

"Oh you poor thing, you made friends huh? I know it hurts to leave them, but you're about to be reunited with your family, you should be happy." Ethel tried to comfort you before she gently dropped you into your family's tank.

“Look who I found! The fairy that tried to take her must have dropped her into the odds and ends tank. I’m so sorry I didn’t go through the tanks more thoroughly, or I would have found her and returned her sooner.” Ethel apologized to your parents and siblings who had now, grown quite a bit and dwarfed you before you seemed to swarmed by them, all of them hugging and kissing you and holding you, trying to wipe away all the “foreign” water from you as you breathed in the once familiar water before Ethel left and returned with more pieces of special vitamin packed mackerel and anchovy and special betta micro food just for you so you could eat and catch up to the rest of your family. “She’s been in the odds and ends tank and they don’t get the same food as you guys, so she’s underweight and undersize now. You’ll help her catch up won’t you? The color tank morphing stage is only in a few days, so we found her just in time.” Ethel told your parents and siblings as she dropped in what she could before you were led to the soft sand pit again and given most of the hunks of mackerel and anchovy all to yourself as your family asked what had happened to you as you told them what happened, and how you were treated in the other tank, how the elders and the adults welcomed you with open arms but all the younglings around your own age shunned you because of how different you were to them, except for Nona. Whose pattern was still on your own tail. And how he was your only friend while in that tank.

Meanwhile back in the other tank Ethel was collecting the oldest adolescents who were about to be subadults as she noticed the scratches on the dwarf gourami and chuckled.

"Did you try to mate with my gold chamelon betta micro? And did she hand you your ass?" Ethel teased him as he scoweld and sulked.

"Well, it serves you right, she was too young for that, she's much younger than you and obviously of a different species." She insisted to him and the other males she had scooped up and put into the bag to transport them back to the shop for processing.

"I know, you don't want to leave either, but it's time for you to go too, thanks for being her friend sweetheart," She cooed to Nona as she scooped him up too and put him with the others.

"But I'm sorry to say, none of you will ever meet anything like her ever again. Chenera is a very special gold headed chameleon betta micro. From my best breeding stock I have and worth her weight in pearls and then some. And chances of any of you ever seeing anything like her again, are slim to none I'm sorry to say, what a beauty she was wasn't she? But as always, adults and elders, thank you so much for looking after her and doing the best you could for her, here is an anchovy for you guys and another clutch of molly eggs that were abandoned and surrendered at the store. So mollies, you're up." She said as she put the clutch down as the molly adults went over and happily took over the eggs with extra food for incentive.

"Ah, that explains, everything." Nona confessed as the bag was lifted and from this vantage point, just in the distance he could see a small tank full of gold dots and colorful fins and figured you were in that one and safely home.

"Goodbye Chenera, I loved you. I'm sorry I was too much of a scardey fish to say it until now." Nona admitted to himself, regretting not saying it when he had the chance. He should have swam after the net and told you, he should have been brave like you, he should have kissed you first, he should have admitted his own feelings for you so much sooner when you weren't being chased by that net. But he looked on with bittersweet relief. You were home, you were safe, you were surrounded by your kind and your family and if you would turn out to be anything like the other betta micros he could see from here, what a true beauty you'd end up being when you would fully grow up and mature. And that's the best that could have happened, and it did.

Meanwhile back in your home tank...

“What tank is this anyway?” You asked them as you ate after you had caught them up.

“Oh honey, we are the gold chameleon betta micro tank. You’re a gold chameleon betta micro. You’re the best of the best as far as the species goes. That’s why you have a gold head and hair but otherwise you change to suit your environment. So this pattern on your body, is this Nona’s pattern?” Your mother Miralia asked.

“Yes, he’s a guppy micro.” You answered as you looked down at your tail and traced the pattern over it, missing Nona like crazy. Wondering if your father or brothers would have actually attacked him if he had tried to follow you or if you had drug him along or if Ethel just would have grabbed him from the net and dropped him back in anyway.

“Ah that explains the shape and pattern. Well guppies are always friendly, I’m glad he at least was able to be your company and friend while you were in there and helped to keep you safe. Did the other males try to swarm you and always try to get you attention?” Your father Avarian asked worriedly.

“Yes, one was a dwarf gourami micro- named Larto- he was..he looked at me like I was food and tried to push me around and I threatened to smash his eyes out if he didn’t knock it off.” You answered and were surprised when your whole family cheered as your parents gave each other a meaningful and knowing look.

“Atta girl! Well we are bettas after all, we’re also known as “Siamese fighting micros” and we don’t back down from a fight or put up with any attitude from anyone else, and we never mix with gouramis, either dwarf or otherwise. Usually because they can grow to be twice our size as adults. But if he was still a youngling, you stood a good chance of making good on that threat and beating his tail into the gravel. So I take it that the reason you’re so dark is because you were hiding in some kind of cave? To get away from those awful dwarf gourami micros?” They asked and you nodded yes.

"Well that and he could have been looking at you like you were food or he could have been looking at you with mating on his brain." Your father gently broke to you.

"Eeewww!" You gagged and fought to keep your new food down as your siblings laughed as they shuddered.

"Yeah, eewww, no thank you." Your sisters repeated.

"That and you're still several cycles too young for that kind of thing anyway, and with the odds and ends tank, no one is rarely the same age, they get new clutches almost daily, how they keep everything straight is a miracle. But when you get to that stage, don't be surprised when every guy you meet looks at you that way but you won't have this reaction, you'll actually like it, expect it and want it, when it's from another betta micro." Your mother explained as you gave her a disbelieving look.

"Just trust me on this." Your mother placted.

“Anyways, never again will you ever have to put up with dwarf gouramis or any other micros of any other kind because usually us betta micros are kept all by ourselves in mated pairs and families to a tank, occasionally once you make it into the shop, if a buyer wants to put you into another tank, you might be with other micros, maybe even guppies or mollies or whatever, but never any dwarf gouramis or oscars or angels, because they’re all too big, and equally as aggressive as we can be, it’s either one mated pair of dwarf gouramis, oscars or bettas or angels, never two and definitely never all four at the same time.” Your mother explained.

It almost felt odd to sleep in a sleep pile again, this time in the absolute middle of it, your sisters had combed and braided your hair gorgeously so that it wouldn’t tangle. And after spending so long just sleeping in a small cave with Nona. You looked out into the room past the glass panes of the tank, with the various nightlights transfixed about the room and new motion sensors and cameras in the corners flashing red every once in a while that had been installed while you were in the odds tank.

You missed Nona, and the foliage, and the privacy of that little cave. Where it felt like you two were the only two micros in the world, and you were still shocked to learn that you were supposed to be so precious and amazing and better than anything or anyone else but to have what felt like half your life to be treated the opposite, you had a hard time accepting it, especially when Nona had treated you like an equal while also making you feel accepted and comforted and even a little special, because he was your only friend and you were his and you had felt odd to have a crush on him for the last couple of cycles and to take your one shot at kissing him, it was thrilling yet heartbreaking because it was your first, and probably your last and you felt sure that the way you felt about Nona, you didn’t want to feel that way about anyone else for as long as you lived.

But still, you had to admit, you had missed your family and your parents and the amazing food. Plus learning the true nature of yourself, made everything make a lot more sense.

But if you could get adopted by someone who would adopt other micros of other kinds, you had the small chance of seeing Nona again, you would just have to wait and be patient.

#Mermay #Mermay 2021 #Yes I know I'm late #as usual #I'm sorry #Micro mermaids #exo #exophillia #mermaids #mermaid romance #micro mermaid romance

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