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[from-the-coffee-shop-in-edoras]

OK, people were very nice to me yesterday about my latest absurdly niche blorbo: Guthláf of Rohan. I wrote a little story about him (it's below and it's only 500ish words). But I feel like I can't post it in isolation without explaining myself a little better first.

The fact that he's Théoden’s banner bearer is the only detail about Guthláf’s life in the canon. But just that by itself was enough to grab my interest because I took a class on ancient warfare in college, and one of my major takeaways was that the flag bearers were often the bravest and most selfless guys in a battle. They were highly visible, highly vulnerable, and highly prized as a target for the enemy. That's not an encouraging combo, and they had an appallingly high casualty rate. And yet, the ones who pursued it did so willingly and considered it an honor!

Although Guthláf's name literally means "battle survivor", he did not avoid the flag bearer’s usual fate. He’s listed among the fatalities at the Pelennor Fields (along with Halbarad, the only (?) other named flag bearer in the books). So I wrote the drabble-ish story below about Guthláf’s experience of his own terrifying job. (I also, of course, have a full head canon about his personal life—how he spoke Rohirric with a rural accent that stood out in Edoras, how the early loss of his family drove him toward recklessness, how he was maybe in love with fellow obscure blorbo Wídfara, etc.—if anyone is interested! And I decided that he's the tall, blonde drink of water on the left below, who I believe is otherwise unnamed and is too young to be Elfhelm or Erkenbrand.)

Anyway. Story (ish) here:

Alone among his éored, Guthláf carries no weapon. In his left hand, he holds his shield, his one and only means of protecting himself; in his right, he carries his banner, a charging white horse on a field of deep green that whips furiously in the cold wind above his head.

Alone among his éored, Guthláf does not strike blows. His war is fought not with strength of arms but with strength of spirit. He has only to keep himself going long enough to let his banner do its work. To signal the direction of the charge and mark the vanguard of the attack. To be the rallying point around which scattered troops coalesce. To lead the way, like a torch in the dark, so that those behind know where to follow. He has only to keep that banner flying, set high and stark against the cool blankness of the winter sky, so that every Rohirrim heart can see that they are yet unconquered, that victory still lies ahead.

Alone among his éored, Guthláf can never hide or blend in. His banner draws the eyes of foes just as easily as friends. His every move is visible. Noted. Tracked. Hunted. The hope he kindles in his fellow riders is equaled by the hatred he inspires in their enemies, and there is no greater blow such an enemy can strike than to bring him down, to achieve with the death of one man the turning of a tide that can change the fate of thousands.

Alone among his éored, Guthláf has no hope that he will survive unscathed to see old age. Banner bearers don’t last long in times of war, and Guthláf is his éored’s fourth bearer in five years. He has only to walk the streets of Edoras to be confronted with the reality of how the lucky banner bearers end their days–empty sleeves tied up where an arm used to be, angry red scars across unprotected faces and necks, canes and crutches that will never fully compensate for crushed legs, twisted spines, shattered hips. The unlucky ones end instead in hastily raised barrows, resting eternally in the sometimes distant and friendless lands where they finally slid from the saddle, bloodied and broken and desperately looking for a loyal hand into which they could pass the banner before everything went dark at last.

And yet, Guthláf wanted this job. He fought for this job. It means everything to him. Because even as he rides to his death, charging into battle on his gray warhorse with his banner streaming brilliantly in his wake, he has never felt more alive. He has never felt so much bigger than himself. When he carries his banner, he is no longer just Guthláf, son of Hulac. He is instead the spirit of Helm, and Eorl, and Frumgar and all the great warriors of old. He is the sound of thousands of hoofs thundering together across an open plain. He is the sight of the jagged white peaks towering over the lush green and gold grasses of the Mark. He is Rohan itself, not just a man but an idea. And an idea can never be slain. When he carries his banner, Guthláf becomes immortal.

[105nt]

Strike Walk #4

All around Barrow-in-Furness

Career of Evil chapters 24-27

This is Part Five, there's a link to earlier parts at the end.

Although they can see her through the glass door of The Bakery, Strike and Robin decide not to try to speak to Holly Brockbank at her place of work, but to try and catch her later at the pub. Strike mourns the pie he could have bought was it not for Labor Omnia Vincit, but I'm on holiday so I had a nice chat with the owner in her new premises and bought a meat and potato.

Strike follows Holly while Robin drives to a deserted stretch of road by a marshy wasteland (take your pick) changes out of her jeans and acquires some fake business cards at an unspecified shopping centre.

They meet at The Crow's Nest - "a large, drum-shaped building of red brick" which stands "where Ferry and Stanley Roads met and formed a hairpin bend".

Robin goes in as Venetia Hall and, as we know, aces it. I was a bit nervous of going in because it looked like a locals place, but it was the nicest pub and the best pint of lager I have had in years. If you're on your own take some cash though because there's a minumum spend on a card. I had to buy two packets of crisps and a Starbar.

After the triumph Strike and Robin celebrate with fish and chips from the Olympic Takeaway, eaten in the Landy. The Olympic's "bright windows intensified the surrounding darkness."

After being serenaded by old Barrovians (no-one serenaded me, sadly) they check into the Travelodge, where they are placed upstairs, five rooms apart.

Robin, unsettled and self-conscious, opens her window, and notes that the view is of the same industrial warehouses they passed at the start of their visit. I don't know how she'd see that in the dark - I had to wait until the morning after to see anything.

Footnote: there's no restaurant at the Barrow-in-Furness Travelodge, so Strike can't have filched pastries and Robin can't have filled their flask from the urn in the morning. Personally I feel they shouldn't give planning permission to budget hotels with no breakfast buffet. 😁

That's the end of Strike Walk #4, thanks for reading!

Go back to Part 4

Go back to the beginning:

[notbeingnoticed]

Here's an article that illustrates how I get skeptical and don't know how to react to climate change crises promoted in the media.

So... the images are beautiful and striking. There are six of them.

One is fires in California, used to illustrate how climate change is destroying the world through wildfires.

Except that California wildfires are caused by man doing things like sparking power lines or throwing cigarettes out of a car or arson, and the phenomena has been shown not to be related to climate change. (The Tubbs fire, from the images, was caused by faulty electrical equipment). Some will argue that climate change is making the fires worse, but there is far more evidence that poor forest and brush management combined with increased human activity in general (driving around, smoking, using electricity) is responsible for the increased damage and frequency of fires. It also doesn't show the amazing way nature reclaims burned areas. I live in one such place, where the visible remains of a brush fire have basically disappeared over the course of 8 years.

Another is the Aral Sea disappearing. Very visible. Except the article itself admits the sea is disappearing not because of climate change, but because of bad Russian water management and the building of dams to divert the water. Why did they present it as an example of climate change then?

Then we have the iceberg breaking off. OK, this one I don't know about. I do know it is perfectly normal for icebergs to break off, that's how we get them floating around in the ocean. This is a normal process.

But is this one breaking more rapidly or in an unusual manner? Uh... dunno. The article admits that two other ice calving events in the same area were caused by natural forces (i.e. not global warming). So... is this different? I am confused.

Then there's the receding Barnes ice cap on Baffin island. OK, this I can visually see some change and there is some evidence it might be because of global warming. I think. But given the disingenuous items elsewhere in the article my skepticism is kicking in.

Then there's the arctic sea shore receding. They had to look pretty hard for this one, because there doesn't appear to be much overwhelming evidence that the sea has claimed land in other areas of the world, or even other areas of the arctic. In spite of repeated dire and panicked warnings predicting the contrary, the Maldives are fine, Barrow is fine. The article even states this land is eroding due to storms, not being flooded by sea level rise, though the implication and subtle suggestion is that sea level rise is the thing we need to worry about.

So again, I see the earth is changing, but the reasons for it seem to be muddled. The changes are blamed on global warming, except if you look into it in more detail, it turns out... not really? Or only in some cases?

Then there's the image of solar panels being built in the desert. What they don't mention is how many solar power generation plants have failed to produce the desired amount of energy. That happened to a large solar plant in the California desert, where the contracting electric company has cut off their agreement because they aren't getting the promised level of electricity from the solar plant.

It also doesn't mention the huge land space required by these solar power installations, how inefficient they are, and the disruption to the environment that takes place for these space hungry solar electric plants that don't produce nearly enough electricity. (Conservationists in California scream about the impact of the solar power plants).

So from this article I have several takeaways.

First, there is some evidence that some ice caps have been shrinking, and maybe there is some ice shelf breakup due to global warming. There's some Alaskan coastline receding though it's unclear how much of this is due to global warming.

Second, that it is necessary to lie and say that fires and lakes drying up are due to climate change in order to make your point... uh... because there isn't enough evidence otherwise?

And lastly, they want to illustrate what a great thing solar is but in doing so they sort of forget to mention that it chews up huge amounts of space, costs a lot more, harms the environment, and the example used is in the #1 carbon polluting country in the world.

I read articles like this all the time and there is such a mix of truth along with falsehood and disingenuous reporting it makes me question the stuff that looks real and probably is real. If they lie about wildfires, are they lying about the ice caps? If they lie about lakes drying up, are they lying about the reasons why the Larsen C ice shelf broke?

Sure. Climate change is real, the climate has always changed and continues to change. But how much of it is due to man-made global warming and more importantly, what the actual impacts are going to be? I simply don't trust the media. They are hell-bent on presenting an agenda and will cherry-pick facts to support the agenda, not giving a complete and clear picture.

I am certain that some of the things that are reported are accurate and that global warming is happening. But what exactly is going on? I can't tell because I literally can't trust the news any more.

All this produces what I am. Skeptical. Not a denier, not an advocate, just... skeptical.

[girlonthelasttrain]

I think I understand why a popular (however joking) interpretation of Downton Abbey on here is that it's ultimately a horror show. Besides the bloodbath (I thought the popular mid-2010s TV show with the senseless violence and death was Game of Thrones, but I was wrong), to me the main takeaway from each episode is that any act of kindness performed under a violently repressive regime will eventually turn into something monstrous that only serves to beat people into toeing the line and ultimately reinforce the conditions that allow said regime to continue existing, even in its death throes. No escape is possible! However much you try to help other people who've been hurt by the system, everyone will be reabsorbed into it without much protesting.

(I don't like Thomas Barrow but I gotta hand it to him, his refusal to play nice with anyone is possibly the only enduring form of rebellion that's ever allowed in the bleak landscape of the show.)

ETA: well my own interpretation is probably closer to a dystopia (I'm more familiar with this genre than horror) but the fact remains that uh... the only way I can watch this show is by not taking it at face value

[evangelineartemiasamos]

Fade for the meme thingy xx

xx

falls asleep on the couch Farley

makes friends with the neighbors Shade

is the adventurous eater Shade

hogs the covers at night Farley

forgets to do the dishes Farley

tries to surprise their partner more often even

leaves dirty laundry on the floor Shade

stays up til 2 AM reading Farley

sings in the shower Shade

takes the selfies Shade takes selfies, Farley would only take photos of Clara

plans date night Farley

Ask me for a ship

[lastmidtownshowmp3]

I posted 179 times in 2021

16 posts created (9%)

163 posts reblogged (91%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 10.2 posts.

I added 65 tags in 2021

#downton abbey - 14 posts

#jimmy kent - 12 posts

#macdennis - 8 posts

#thommy - 7 posts

#thanzag - 6 posts

#thomas barrow - 6 posts

#dennis reynolds - 4 posts

#it's always sunny in philadelphia - 3 posts

#my art - 3 posts

#zhonglumi - 2 posts

Longest Tag: 133 characters

#finally the starship enterprise i made when i was 10 out of paper plates and polystyrene pizza boards that just hangs from my ceiling

My Top Posts in 2021

#5

Damn, shaky finger drawn Tim for the boys 😔

15 notes • Posted 2021-12-08 10:51:26 GMT

#4

Not to constantly be thinking about Jimmy in some manner. But I do love the way Robert has absolutely no chill when it came to catching Lady Anstruther and Jimmy. Like Robert, who are you to judge? You almost got nasty with Jane, who was a maid... You can't talk king.

21 notes • Posted 2021-07-04 11:38:36 GMT

#3

I've gotten to the 'payoff' of the Lady Anstruther plot and honestly I'm ready to lay down and perish. I despise it so much, it was so unnecessary. Also why was the takeaway built up to be that Jimmy is kind of a dumb slut when their relationship had such a power imbalance and was coercive.

22 notes • Posted 2021-07-30 18:13:10 GMT

#2

Okayyyy, does Thomas have more 'gatekeep, gaslight, girlboss' energy or 'mansplain, manipulate, malewife' energy? I gotta know.

32 notes • Posted 2021-06-22 18:53:58 GMT

#1

I forgot about the moment when Ivy was talking about the fact that Jimmy had to be interested in someone and Thomas says that it isn't her with such confidence. But not only was he confident but the way he said it was like he really thought it was him that Jimmy was actually interested in. Thomas was so sure in that moment, he was so confident that he was the one!!!

51 notes • Posted 2021-07-13 19:27:03 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

[monstersandmaw]

Homeless merman (Leyil) x reader - Part Two (nsfw)

Edit which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me.

Part One of Leyil’s story was in response a prompt sent in anonymously to @cozycryptidcorner on Tumblr, and I wrote a drabble on my phone, super late at night,  never expecting it to become one of my most popular stories!! And here is the much-asked-for part two!  

Contents: 6200 words, a reader who can't swim getting into a bit of difficulty, and some merman smut...

I hope you enjoy it!! As ever, let me know what you think :). P.S. I love you folks

*********

Getting your new tenant from his temporary home in the town centre’s fountain to your run-down farm on the outskirts was one of the hardest things you’d ever tried to do. Luckily there was an old wheelbarrow in one of the sheds on the farm, so you heaved that up into the bed of your battered old pickup truck and drove to the marketplace to pick him up.

Unfortunately, you discovered when you got there that there was no access for vehicles during the day, so you had to park on a side street, but you’d come prepared with the wheelbarrow. How you were going to get him into it was another matter, but you’d figure that out when it came to it.

Leyil was sitting in his usual space by the statue, hauled out and drying up in the strong sun, surrounded by his few belongings and his cardboard sign which read ‘water please’ propped up nearby, looking exactly as he had the previous day when you'd first met him. His skeletally thin arms hung limply by his sides and he was slumped against the stonework, his breathing laboured, bony ribs rising and falling irregularly, and his dull, drab looking tail-fan spread over the cobbles like an abandoned sheet of newspaper. Someone trod on the tender skin of the caudal fin as they passed and he hissed weakly but otherwise didn’t react.

Anger boiled hot in your stomach at the way folks were treating him, and you hurried closer with your wheelbarrow.

“Hey,” you smiled when you approached, bearing another fresh fish for him from the stall on the other side of the market. You’d picked it up on your way over and you’d even managed to get another shiny trout for him.

When you presented it to him, kneeling down beside him, he looked slowly up at you with his enormous, inhuman eyes, and simply stared.

“Leyil?” you asked. “You remember me from yesterday?”

His breath wheezed and rattled, and he took a couple of goes at speaking before any sound came out. “You… You came back…” he finally rasped.

“Of course I did,” you said, trying to mask shock and upset behind a friendly expression. “Here,” and you offered him the fish. “You hungry?”

He nodded weakly and when you held it a little closer to him, he smiled, cracked lips stretching and his dark eyes filling with tears again.

You let him eat in peace for a while and then offered him a bottle of water, most of which, again, he poured over his gunked up gills with a rattling sigh of relief that struck you deeply. His webbed hands trembled with the effort of holding the bottle, but he didn’t seem to want to let go of it, so you simply let him keep it when he was done with it.

“Thank you,” he said again, voice quavering and dry as a handful of late autumn leaves.

“You’re more than welcome, Leyil. Listen, do you still want to come and see if the lake on my farm is any good for you?”

He swallowed thickly. “Is… Is it far?”

You shook your head and pointed east. “It’s a couple of miles out of town that way. If you don’t like it, I can always bring you back here, but I can’t imagine it’d be much better here than there…”

Leyil managed a lopsided smile and shook his head. The first traces of humour glimmered in his eyes and he agreed with you. “No,” he muttered. “Neither can I.”

You smiled in return and said, “So… I had to park in a street just off the market, but I brought a wheelbarrow with me to help get you there. Is that ok? I’m not sure how we can get you into it though…”

He wheezed a rattling laugh and said, “I could go back to the fountain…” he said, eyeing the low stonework of the fountain’s bowl and then gesturing at the little sheet of cardboard on which he was sitting.

“Ok…” you said, following his train of thought. “You get up onto the wall of the fountain and then scoot over into the wheelbarrow?”

He nodded.

The fountain wasn’t far away, and you offered to gather up his things for him, but he hissed, “Leave them. I don’t want to bring anything with me.”

“Fair enough,” you said, stepping away from the empty takeaway cup and a scrap of ragged fabric beside him. He began to slide on his backside over to the fountain, the cardboard sheet beneath him acting as protection for his delicate and fragile tail as he scooted himself on shaky arms over the rough flagstones of the market square. Panting, struggling for breath, he paused halfway, elbows quivering, muscles shaking.

“Water?” you asked and he nodded.

Unable to hold himself upright and take the bottle from you, he fell backwards onto the warm stones and winced as the sores on his back hit the floor. He finished the rest of the water and lay there a while, gathering his remaining strength.

There weren’t too many folks in the marketplace yet, but those who passed slid by the scene as if stepping round a pile of garbage, pointedly ignoring the pair of you.

A thought occurred to you and, while he recovered, you asked, “Why don’t you stay in the fountain all the time?”

He snorted and croaked, “They treat it with chemicals to stop it going green. I tried… I tried to stay in there all the time when I first… first came here, but…” his breath caught and he gave a horrible, sucking, wheezing inhale.

“Easy,” you said. “Save your breath. You can always tell me later.”

He nodded and concentrated on stilling his uneven, ragged breath.

The rest of the way to the fountain was a hard slog for him, but he made it in the end. It wasn’t far, perhaps ten paces, but he was exhausted. “Leyil, I don’t want to patronise you, but would you like me to help you up onto the wall? I could probably lift you at least that far…” Manoeuvring him into a wheelbarrow was one thing, but heaving his dead weight onto a low sill didn’t seem like it’d be too strenuous, especially given his emaciated state.

Clearly embarrassed, he nodded, and you leaned in close to him, sliding your arms under his and hoisting him up to sit on the low, stone wall. You scuffed his backside on the rough wall and he winced but said nothing, even when you apologised. He smelled truly awful, like fish left out to rot in the sun, but you figured that you wouldn’t smell too pretty if you’d had to live on the streets either.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, head hanging low as he turned his face away from you.

“It’s not your fault, Leyil,” you said again. “Take your time, then we can swing you into the wheelbarrow. I’m just so sorry it’s all so undignified…”

The merman barked a hoarse laugh and turned his intelligent, sharp eyes to your face. His silent gaze said so much, but he added, “Living on the streets and being spat on by passers by is degrading… a little indignity like this, I can deal with.”

You smiled, a warm admiration sweeping in to replace the anger that still frothed inside you at the way he’d been treated. As if sensing this, he reached a cold, clammy hand for your wrist and gripped you with unexpected strength.

“Don’t pity me. I refused to leave the lake. I should have gone…”

“Even if you refused to go, you shouldn’t have been treated like that…”

He shrugged and let go. “Most people here have never seen a merman. I think they’re afraid of us.”

“Why?”

The sharp-toothed smile you got was hardly reassuring. “Don’t you know the stories?”

You raised an eyebrow and he laughed huskily.

“We sing the landfolk to their doom and feed on them…”

“Is that true?” you asked, suddenly afraid that you’d offered him a home in your lake. You fought the urge to yank your wrist out of his cold grasp. “I thought it was just a fairytale…”

His smile remained, but the gentleness in his weedy-green eyes softened it and he let go of you. “Some of us know the songs and have the magic, but your kind is in no danger from me. I just want a place to live.”

“Well, let’s get you into the truck and into my lake then,” you said, goosebumps shivering along your skin as you tried to put your disquiet to rest.

He swung himself into the wheelbarrow with surprising grace but he gasped as his sensitive, sore skin hit the chilly metal. He laughed a moment later and tried to tuck his tail up out of the way of where your feet would be walking. He lacked the strength, however, and it flopped back down to trail in the dust like a ragged train, leaving him panting and shaking.

“I’ll be careful,” you reassured him, and he smiled, too tired for speech.

People stared openly as you wheeled him out of the marketplace, and as one particularly rude human gawped at him, he bared his teeth and hissed like a cat at them until they turned and scurried away.

“Nice,” you grinned slyly at him and he chuckled. He still looked exhausted, but behind the pallor of his sunken cheeks there was a slight colour beginning to rise.

It took a bit of jostling to get him from the wheelbarrow into the front seat of the truck, but eventually he was in, and he laid his head back against the seat and closed his eyes. He sat there, unmoving and barely breathing, clearly exhausted, while you loaded up the barrow into the bed at the back and then returned to fasten his seatbelt. He watched you with curious eyes but offered no comment as you reached close to him again.

As the truck rumbled out of the town, he stared at the pine trees as they flashed past with a look of wonder on his gaunt face. His skin was so pale it seemed to glow, and you noticed little patches of scales on his shoulders and at his elbows, the same colour as his dirty, jade green tail.

“It’s beautiful,” he whispered perhaps a mile later down the road.

You glanced over at him again and he shot you a look before returning his eyes to the countryside beyond. “I’m new to the area,” you said carefully, worrying about bringing up his old home, “Is the countryside like this around the lake where you used to live?”

He nodded wistfully. “Yes.”

“Can I ask why you didn’t leave with the others? I heard they were offered a new home…”

He lowered his head. “I should have gone with my family.”

“You spawned here though, right?”

Leyil nodded once. “Each water system has its own unique composition,” he said, staring at his webbed hands in his lap. He’d begun to slide down the seat a bit, but he made no effort to straighten again. “I… I couldn’t bear the thought of being in a different water system - it gives us our life, our nutrients; makes the fish taste the way they do and, well, it gives us our magic.”

“You’d be without your magic if you moved somewhere else?”

He shrugged. “I honestly don’t know. Maybe? Or it wouldn’t behave the same.”

“Can I ask what kind of magic you have?”

He turned his enormous eyes to you again. “I’m a singer,” he said. “But I promise you, you’re in no danger from me.”

“Right,” you said weakly. Inviting an aquatic predator to your home who could lure you to your death was beginning to feel like a very bad idea.

His shoulders sagged and he swallowed thickly. “I promise you,” he hissed insistently.

“Ok.”

The rest of the ride passed in an awkward silence, and when you finally bounced to a halt at the end of your rutted driveway, he looked like he was about to hurl. Merfolk apparently didn’t travel well in vehicles.

You fetched the wheelbarrow again and when you came round to his door, his webbed hands were pressed flat against the glass of the window, and his eyes were wide with amazement as he gazed out at the lake in the distance, his queasiness apparently forgotten.

You knocked on the glass and he sat back, allowing you to undo his seatbelt again before using the door and handle to swing himself down into the wheelbarrow. A couple of his dull scales had fallen from his tail into the foot-well of the car but you ignored them and concentrated on getting him to the water.

At the shores of the still, black lake that was probably a quarter of a mile long, though nowhere near as wide, and flanked on each side by tall, dark pines and long grasses that dipped their heads towards the water as if in a reverent bow, you halted and Leyil released his white-knuckled hold on the edge of the wheelbarrow.

“Alright,” you said. “I think it’s deep enough here that I could probably just slide you into it from the bank,” you said. “It’s not very dignified, but it’ll be effective…?”

He smiled up at you and laughed excitedly, his row of razor sharp teeth glimmering in the greenish light of the lake shore air. “It smells wonderful,” he said. “Please, I can’t wait. I think I’ll probably try to leap into the water like a salmon if you don’t tip me in immediately…”

“Ready then?” you laughed and he nodded.

The splash he generated when he hit the weedy water soaked you, and he disappeared immediately below the surface with the speed of a hunting eel.

“You’re welcome…” you murmured when he showed no sign of reappearing after another few minutes. You stood there and watched for his reappearance for a good five minutes, but he never showed, so you rolled the wheelbarrow back to the tumble-down barn and decided to get to work on some jobs in the farmhouse. Plugging a leak in the roof was a priority if the weather report was to be believed.

A thunderstorm rolled in that afternoon and you spent the duration of it huddled up in your living room with a book beside the fire, hoping that he was alright.

The moment the rain stopped, perhaps a few hours later, you flung on some wellies and tramped across the sodden grass towards the lake. The shore was dotted with huge boulders here and there, and a wide, pebbled cove stretched in a half moon along the nearest shore to the house. In the wake of the rain, a gentle mist had begun to form and it drifted through the pines in thick clouds, hanging low over the surface of the water.

“Leyil?” you yelled, your voice echoing eerily back at you. A crow circled from the nearest tree top, but other than that, the scene was still.

You waded out into the clear shallows, your rubber boots allowing you to slosh around up to about a foot or so. You bent down and waggled your fingers through the chilly water a few times and called his name again. If he was at the other end of the lake, there was probably no way he could hear you.

Perhaps three or four minutes later, his head broke the surface of the water and he grinned, swimming rapidly towards you. Instinctively you took a step or two back until you were out of the water and standing on the glistening grey pebbles of the shore, still wet from the downpour.

He powered up into the shallows where you’d been standing only a moment before and then leaned on his forearms, his tail fanning out behind him in the water as he looked up at you. “It’s perfect!” he exclaimed, rolling over in the water and coming back to rest on his elbows again. “It’s even the same water as my old lake!”

“I’m glad,” you said. “Is there enough for you to eat?”

Leyil nodded vigorously. “And there’s a big old pike here too. He’s mean, but I think I’ve shown him who’s boss now.”

You couldn’t help but grin. “That’s a relief,” you said. “I wanted you to have a home where you felt safe. The storm didn’t trouble you?”

“Nope,” he smiled. He was still gaunt and emaciated, and his skin still had sores and cuts on, but a lot of the life seemed to have soaked back into him. Perhaps what he’d said about his magic being connected to the water system was true. He must have read something in your expression that you hadn’t meant to show because he tilted his head to one side, his long, lank, black hair dripping into the gently lapping water at the shore, and he murmured, “Did it trouble you?”

You managed a smile. “I’m not a big fan of thunderstorms. Especially not with a leaky house…”

“Oh,” he said, his good mood tarnishing visibly. “I… I’m sorry. I wish I could help you… could repay you for your kindness…”

“Just enjoy yourself and my lake,” you said, trying to force a smile. You really meant it, but somehow you felt as damp as the leaves around you. If you’d thought that bringing him here was going to provide you with some company, you were just beginning to realise that you and he really were totally different creatures, with totally different habits and behaviours, and you might only rarely glimpse him if he happened to surface while you were at the shore. Your life was going to be just as lonely as it had before.

But looking down at him, you knew that none of this was about you. This was about giving Leyil his dignity and pride back, and giving him a home where he could thrive.

“I will,” Leyil said, bowing his head. “And I will cherish it. Thank you.”

You shivered in the damp air and drew your coat around your collar. “I… I think I’m going to head back inside,” you said, “But I’ll see you around, ok?”

Leyil shimmied back into the deeper water and vanished with a flick of his tail.

Life settled back into its previous rhythm. You worked on the farm, trying to get it back to a state where you might be able to keep animals - just a few chickens, maybe some geese - and that took up a lot of your time.

As you shuttled between the buildings on the little tractor you’d bought, or ferried fence posts across the yard, or lugged paint cans from the barn to wherever they were needed, you always kept half an eye on the lake. Sometimes you would see Leyil breach the surface for a moment, and sometimes he would wave at you from a distance, but mostly you both kept to yourselves for the next few weeks.

One afternoon in late summer, as the temperatures soared, you made your way down to the lake and took off your heavy steel toe-capped boots and your socks and paddled out just a little way into the water. It was deliciously cool and you moaned a private, soft sigh at the beautiful sensation.

The glimmering ghost of a figure moved a few metres off shore while you still cooled your toes, and you watched as Leyil slowed and bobbed his head above the surface. His hair was pretty long now, streaming down his back, and his figure had filled out more. He was still skinny, but he no longer looked starved. “You should come in!” he laughed. “It’s hot today!”

With half an involuntary step backwards, you shook your head.

“Why not?” he asked, seeming oddly disturbed by your fear of the water.

“Can’t swim,” you said.

His eyes went wide and his mouth opened a little way. “You bought a house with a beautiful lake and you can’t swim?” he asked, astonished.

“Guess so,” you smiled.

After a pause he tucked his long hair behind his ear and said, “I could try and teach you?”

Bile rose up your throat and you felt your heartbeat triple in pace. “Um… thanks, but… I’m… I’m not sure…”

“Please?” he said, recovering from his surprise and swimming a little closer. “Please; this is something I can do for you!” he smiled, green eyes wide. “I can give you something for what you gave me!”

“Leyil, you’re a predator,” you blurted, adrenaline coursing through you at the thought of water pressing in on all sides. “I’m not getting in the water with you.”

Shock wiped his face blank of joy and he simply stared at you.

“I mean…” you said. “I didn’t mean it like that, but…”

If you’d slapped him he couldn’t have looked more surprised. Without a word, he turned and vanished beneath the surface.

“Shit,” you cursed. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

Leyil didn’t appear at all for a week after that, though you went down to the lake morning and night to try and apologise for your unthinking and hurtful words.

Two weeks slipped by and you didn’t see the faintest sign of him. He refused to come to the surface when you waded into the water up to your calves, and you didn’t even catch the slightest glimpse of him at a distance beneath the water.

On the hottest day of the year so far, you made a decision.

Before you lost your nerve, you stalked down to the lake again and stood there a moment, breathing deeply, pulse thrumming. Then you stripped down to your underwear and waded out into the lake. It was breathtakingly cold and as it lapped at your tummy button it made you gasp. With your arms held up out of the water, you stood there with it up to your ribs, heart hammering, breath ragged and shallow and quick.

“Leyil?” you yelled across the lake. “Leyil… I… I’d really like to apologise to you… I don’t know if you can hear me, but… well… I’m in the water…”

You ground your teeth and dunked your shoulders in with a screech as the cold water closed around you. You just about kept your head above the water, your feet staggering on the uneven bottom of the lake. You knew it was stupid to go in the water when you couldn't swim, but you couldn't think of any other way to get Leyil to notice you.

Taking a few tentative paddles, you tipped forwards and had a go at swimming.

And failed. Immediately.

The water slipped through your fingers like sand and you began to sink. Panic, blind and raw, overwhelmed you and you screamed just as your mouth went under and the water sloshed over your head.

A flash of white in the murky depths was instantly followed by an arm hooked around your waist and you found yourself powering through the water. For a horrible moment you thought you were going to be dragged down, but your head broke the surface an instant later and Leyil drove you onto the pebbles of the shore with the power of a charging orca whale, his wide eyes full of fear.

“What are you doing?” he hissed at you, his chest heaving as though he’d swum a great distance at a flat out sprint. Perhaps he had. “You can’t swim!”

“I…” you coughed, shaking violently all over. “I’m sorry…”

He stroked your face with his smooth, cool hand. “Shh,” he said. “Just breathe.”

“I hurt you,” you spluttered.

“Yes,” he said.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. Not really. I’m afraid of the water, not of you… not really.”

He grinned and you glimpsed sharp teeth. “I could have had you just now if I wanted,” he said. “But I’d rather have you alive, and as my friend, than as my dinner, alright?”

“That’s… somehow not very comforting…”

Leyil laughed. “Ah, there you are; you’re back,” he said, and you realised that you could breathe more easily again.

You sat up, limbs still shaky, and looked at him.

“You scared the hell out of me…” he said. “I heard you from the other side of the lake, heard the ripples, and then I heard you trying to swim. I felt it. I felt you drowning…”

Now it was his turn to start shaking.

“I was so afraid I wouldn’t get to you in time…” he said in a tiny voice. “You saved me, and I was so afraid I wouldn’t be able to save you.”

“I’m sorry,” you said again, throat hoarse and sore.

He looked at your mostly-naked body and reached his palm out to your chest, right below your collarbones. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmured before withdrawing his touch and clearing his throat. “You should warm up. You’re trembling…”

“The sun’s warm,” you said. “I can just lie here for a bit.”

“You mind if I stay with you?”

You snorted a laugh. “Sure, but I’m not stupid enough to try and come in again,” you said bitterly. “I don’t need a babysitter.”

Leyil’s little chattery laugh livened your spirits a little and he lay on his belly in the shallow water of the shore at right angles to you while you stretched out on the pebbles. After a while, he started to haul himself out to lie next to you.

“What are you doing?” you asked, confused. “Won’t you dry out…?”

He smiled and shook his head. “I don’t mind,” he said. “And it’s not exactly far to get back into the water,” he added, slapping his tail fin down where it still trailed in the surface of the lake and sending fine drops splattering through the air to land on your sun-warmed skin. “Do you mind?”

You shook your head.

After a while, your heartbeat returned to normal and your breathing evened out again.

You turned your head to look at him, only to find him staring at you. He was still lying on his front, with his chin propped nonchalantly in his elegant, talon-tipped hands. The webbed skin between his fingers was translucent and beautiful as alabaster, and you noticed that where his tail had been drab and dull before, it now gleamed with a myriad colours like an opal in full sunlight.

“What?” he asked softly when he noticed your eyes roaming all over him.

“You’re looking well, that’s all,” you said, heat creeping up your neck. He was exquisitely beautiful and you felt your mouth beginning to go dry.

He cocked his head to one side and smiled wryly, which only made you flush hotter.

After a while you asked, “Leyil…?”

“Mmm?” He had laid his head down drowsily on his forearm and was staring at you while you closed your eyes and let the sun warm you through.

“Would you sing for me?”

“You want me to sing for you?” he asked, surprised.

“Yes.”

“But what about that ‘predator’ comment?”

You shrugged without opening your eyes. “I do trust you really.”

He sighed and then you jumped as his hand cool touched yours. “Thank you,” he said, and when you opened your eyes you saw that his own were glistening softly. “I promise you that you’re in no danger from me.”

“I know,” you said. “I… I let my fear of the water become a fear of you, which wasn’t fair.”

He shrugged and sat up, bracing his upper bodyweight on his left arm while his tail fin still lay in the water like a leaf on a pond. “I understand.” He inhaled deeply and then asked, “What sort of song shall I sing you?”

You looked at him and said, “What do you feel like?”

“It’s funny,” he said nervously, “I haven’t felt like singing in a long time. The last time I sang, I was leaving my home behind because the water was draining and the lake was turning into a mud bath. I crawled into the city looking for help and ended up living in the fountain.”

“Leyil,” you said gently. “You don’t have to sing if you don’t want to… if it’s too painful…”

He shook his head. “No, I’m ready. It’s about time. Perhaps I’ll sing a new song about this place, and about you.”

“I’d love to hear it.”

Leyil closed his gorgeous eyes and seemed to fall into an almost meditative state for a while, but soon he began to hum.

It started soft as the breeze in the trees beside the lake, a mere whisper across the rippling water, and despite the warmth of the sun, goosebumps rose and prickled along your arms and legs at the sound of it. His rough, hoarse speaking voice turned into liquid sound, smooth and flowing as a stream over rounded river rocks, and the music he made was truly unearthly.

The melody ebbed and flowed, now soft, now strong, and soon you found tears rolling down your cheeks as he sang, almost without stopping to breathe. It had begun as a heartbreakingly sad tune, so much so that your chest physically hurt at the emotions he poured into his haunting song, but as he let it continue, his haunting voice rolling over the water and the trees with the impact of distant, rumbling thunder, it began to change. An immense joy surged through his voice and he tilted his head back, throat working, chest heaving, as he unleashed his song to the sky.

It seemed to vibrate in your ribcage and buzz in your ears as his magic filled your consciousness completely. You became aware of everything: the water lapping at the pebbles; the pine needles bristling in the dense forest behind you; the fish darting like shadows in the shallows; the weeds wafting back and forth in the softly shifting currents of the lake; the feel of the chill water on Leyil’s broad tail; the press of the stones against his scales; the incredible warmth of your hand in his…

With a gasp you let go of him, snatching your fingers back, snapping the contact, and the spell was broken.

Leyil fell silent.

He opened his eyes, breathing hard, and smiled a little at you, blinking slowly as though dazed.

“Leyil,” you breathed.

“You felt it, didn’t you?” he asked when he’d recovered his equilibrium a little. “You felt my magic… Not everyone can, you know?”

You had no response to that for a while until you whispered, “I think I felt what you were feeling as you sang…”

His smile broadened. “Then you’ll know how grateful I am to you for giving me all this,” he said, reaching for your hand again.

This time you did not recoil. You let him run his palm up your forearm towards your shoulder, tracing the contours of your body as much with his eyes as with his touch. The merman shuffled a little closer to you and you lay back again as he turned his intense, green stare along your body and at your legs stretched out on the smooth pebbles.

Looking back at your face for permission, he moved his hand to your bare stomach and then to your hips. Your breath caught as he circled his thumb at your hip bone and then moved down your thighs. He lingered there a while, exploring and enjoying the feel of your bare, warm skin against his cool hand.

His eyes shone, and under the intense scrutiny and closeness of the merman, you began to flush hotter. He tilted his head like a curious bird, never breaking eye contact with you. “What do you want?” he asked in a rasping voice, so different from his singing voice.

“You,” you murmured after a pause. “Leyil, is this… is this because of your song?”

He shook his head. “My song was about this place and about you. I could sing you a different song if you’d like, but… I want you to… I want you to be… free to choose…”

“Me too,” you said firmly.

He leaned in close and slowly pressed his lips to yours. You’d expected him to taste unpleasant, perhaps like fish, but he didn’t. He tasted of the pure, clean lake water, and his sharp teeth raked across your lips while his hands went to your shoulders to steady himself.

“I want you,” he managed to hiss a moment later, pushing himself upright. “Is that wrong?”

You shook your head. “No.”

He smiled and bit his lip. “Your body,” he said. “It’s… It’s so strange to me, and yet so beautiful…”

“So’s yours, Leyil,” you chuckled, floundering a little as you tried to sit up.

Gently, the merman rolled onto his back and let you explore him in turn.

The injuries he’d suffered while on land had faded to corded scars, as though his milk pale skin had been darned with white silk. His hips were angular and sharp, his stomach taut and lean, his arms and chest muscular but slender, and his face had become angularly beautiful instead of gaunt. But it was his tail that truly fascinated you. The shimmering colours in his scales glittered in the sun, and as you ran your fingertips lightly down his stomach and over the transition from bare skin to scales, he gasped, chin jutting upwards and spine arching off the dark grey pebbles beneath him.

“You like that?” you asked, and he nodded frantically so you did it again, eliciting the same response. “You’re sensitive, aren’t you?”

Just below where his tail began, at roughly the point where a human male would have a cock, you noticed that there was a slit in the flesh that glistened with fluid, and the more you touched him, the slicker it became. The flesh seemed to grow puffy there too, swelling as his chest began to heave and his breathing rasped in furious, desperate pants. His clawed hands scrabbled at the pebbles beneath him and he began to whine and gasp as you circled your touch closer and closer to what you knew had to be a sheath.

Running your fingertips around the edges of it, you heard him give a sharp cry of pleasure. “Shall I stop?” you teased and he whimpered desperately.

“Please! Please don’t!” he blurted, bucking weakly and writhing.

As you smiled and dipped a fingertip inside his slick, swollen sheath, he lurched, shoulders hunching inwards as he almost sat up, handsome face contorted in a grimace of exquisite pleasure, and you realised that beneath the pad of your fingertip, you had found a little rough patch at the top of his sheath. You circled it lightly, tenderly, and he cried out in a long, broken wail that made your ears ring as he flung himself back down onto the beach and arched his back into your touch again.

Slowly, his cock began to free itself from the confines of the sheath. Where his tail was an opalescent, greenish blue, the inner walls of his sheath were delicate, pale pink, and the cock that writhed out was forget-me-not blue at the base, fading to pink up the thick shaft, and the swollen, weeping, spear-shaped head was a dark, vibrant pink, flushed with pleasure. Pearly pre-come rolled down the length of his cock as you continued to trace circles on that sensitive bundle of nerves just inside his sheath, and he practically sobbed with desperation.

“Please…” he gasped, tears spilling from the corners of his eyes. “It’s so good… please…”

“You want me to touch your cock too?” you asked and he nodded mutely.

You wrapped your other hand around his hard length and he yelled again, his torso contracting in spasms until you thought he might be coming. However, he continued to writhe and moan beneath your touch a little while longer before he forced his large, inhuman eyes open and rasped, “Please… let me… let me come…”

“I’m not stopping you, Leyil…” you said, gripping his hard cock even tighter.

His magic reached out for you then, that familiar feeling from earlier wrapping around your senses and he breathed frantically in rapid, shallow gasps, gills opening too in an attempt to suck in as much oxygen as possible as his pleasure reached its peak. His sheath contracted and pulsed and suddenly he came with a scream of pleasure that you felt in your chest, still connected to him by his magic. His back arched, his head flung back, chin raised, and he released over your hand and his own stomach in a series of messy, convulsing waves.

You had never been so turned on in your whole life, and as he slowly came back down and opened his eyes, he saw your arousal and smiled.

“Let me thank you properly,” he slurred softly, and this time you didn’t refuse him.

———————————–

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