#too busy studying not enough time to look at pretty mer people

[wawapiggy]

i was confused for several days why everyone was talking about and drawing the lu boys as mers

and then i realized it’s mer-may

[sunny-speaks]

Siren Friend x Reader

So this is really late to the bandwagon :((( But here we are, resident yandere Friend! But Siren version cause I can't stop thinking about the chatbot... :P

You work a nice job, decent pay, the works.

You live near a beach in a decently populated city, you’re single and ready to mingle. But there’s no pressure! After all, your job is so tiring… There’s literally no room to romance people… But he'd change that.

Nothing too big, just studying an obscure species that emerged a couple months ago that look pretty similar to mermaids, mermen and other humanoid fish folk from mythology.

Of course, you weren’t too bothered, you just fed them and kept them occupied whilst other researchers collected data. You were more of a mer caretaker than an actual scientist.

Just the other day however… you found this really cute one washed up against the shoreline of your beachfront house !

You honestly didn’t expect much out of living so close to the water… but if that’s what it takes for pretty guys to get close to you, you weren’t arguing.

He was unconscious, dying in the sand or something when you chucked him into a bathtub.

Dark blue skin and hair the color of the sun, god, you couldn’t help but admire the pretty merman who was now chilling in your bathtub.

If you looked hard enough, you’d barely be able to see the way that the lightbulb in the ceiling catches the scales of his face in a way that makes the patches on his shoulders, cheeks and abdomen shimmer in a glamorous way.

Gold linings went up and down his body, marking contours and every dip in his body. They sectioned his abdomen and melded into his tail, they trailed up the sides of his neck to the back of his… webbed ears?

Wow, you’d probably stare forever at him until--!

You were busy admiring just how elegant the siren looked under the yellow-tinted lighting of your bathroom before you noticed his eyelashes fluttering awake under the water. How long he’d been out for, he wasn’t sure. When he saw the human that he’d always… admired from a distance hovering over him, he thought he had died and gone to fish heaven! He poked his head out of the water, black eyes looking up at you through his eyelashes, the lower half of his face obscured by the water. Water droplets accumulated on his long eyelashes every time he blinked. Which was quite a lot, seeing as how the unapproachable, ethereal human you were in his eyes, was right in front of him and had even saved his life ! He was the only one you'd saved, right? That made him special, right? He let out a small chirp in response, a little mix of shock and awe to which you awkwardly replied with, “Heeeeey?”

To be fair, you weren’t necessarily versed in talking to merfolk. It wasn’t your job- Well, it kind of was…

But you had context clues! You had diagrams and data to go off on in the lab ! 

This time around, you were too busy ogling the goddamn merperson to call your boss and tell him about a new discovery.

You were, as the kids call it, ‘faking it till you made it’ when you conversed with him.

Honestly, what were you supposed to do with a random attractive siren stranger in your house?! Just kick him out?!

Nah, you'd have to let him stay. After all, you didn't know what tests they did on the other merfolk, but honestly? You didn't want to know.

You just wanted to protect this one. You weren't sure why.

Maybe if you paid any attention the studies by scholars, you would've realized about their charmspeak and how they can lull you into a hazy state of mind...

But to the siren who’d only ever been enamored with you from afar? Only ever gazed at your smile, waiting for a day it could be displayed to him? Only ever hung onto every morsel of speech he could make out from that pretty mouth of yours?

He was hoping you’d let him stay with you… forever.

[shushiyuii]

Atlantic Runaways (Part 1)

I’m feeling a bit unmotivated today and sicky, ill do as much as i can today so in case i can’t upload much take this fic i made a while ago.

Also future parts of this au will contain noms! So just be aware of that!

Warnings: Mistreatment (Take this warning seriously please)

Words: 1.8k

When Wilbur was a young Mer, he enjoyed swimming around in the open waters, living with his pod and learning new things. But that wasn’t easy nowadays living within a cramped tank, especially being forced to perform. He was captured several years ago now, he was a full adult now, being raised in what he could barely call his home.

So many people mistreated him here, not to mention the lack of food, he was almost always starving but over the years you get used to that sort of thing, all that matters really is if you do well during your performances you get more food, and he hates it here. He really hates these humans, they’re pitiful.

He hates the crowds and how they applause after doing a single flip, his trainer seems to agree on that. He always scowls whenever he hears those cheers, but it wasn’t like he’s on Wilbur’s good side, he was just as bad as the people who watched his suffering.

He was one of the ones who caused his suffering. Treating as if he were any less than him, paying no kindness or compassion, the lack of food, if he performed one-trick incorrectly, he would not get any dinner, he hated this place.

Back in the ocean, things were so much easier, so much more space, freedom, family and everything. Now he sat at the bottom of the tank, his cave barely fitting half of his body, his hunger craved food, sometimes he even thought of eating humans but if he wanted any chance of escape, it would probably be best not to do so.

He sighed; he couldn’t even see the stars anymore as he was moved to indoors, only going outside for outdoor performances. It just led to even less space, this place for Wilbur was hell, they didn’t even know he resembled a human, being sentient and able to speak.

Meanwhile, with TommyInnit, he was having the best moments of his life. He had recently finished a course on Marine biology and was now on his to becoming an intern for L’manburgs most famous water park!

He would be able to work with sea creatures! He could study them, communicate and understand them! He had applied for the position a while ago and well got accepted!

“Dear Tommy Danger Kraken Innit,

We are happy to announce that you are now a part of the team! Welcome to L’manburg Water Park! With your help, we’ll rescue all sorts of sea creatures, learn new things about them and even perform with them! We hope you’re as excited as we are!

Please come to the park on Monday morning, once you arrive at the receptionist desk, state your name and we’ll show you around the park and how everything works! We hope to see you soon! – Staff”.

Tommy was so excited he yelled at the top of his lungs! Jumping with joy! He would finally accomplish his dream! He could work with sea animals! He was so excited to tell Tubbo! He immediately ran over to his phone to call him.

Once the phone picked up there was groaning on the other side, he had woken up Tubbo. “Pft, Did I wake you, Big man?”. He groaned in response to that, “What do you want, Toms?”. “Well~,” he said dragging out the ‘L’, “I’ve got big news, Big man! I got accepted for the internship!”.

Tubbo woke up at the fact, gasping in excitement “Really man?! Oh, that’s great! I’m so happy for you, man!”.  Tubbo exclaimed. “When do you start?”. “Next Monday, actually! I’m really looking forward to it!”.

The next couple of days went by quickly, and then Tommy’s alarm went off, he rushed downstairs and ate his breakfast as fast as possible. His dad was surprised with how excited he was, insisting that they go immediately, pushing him out the door, it was the most excited he’s seen Tommy in ages, it made him happy.

He soon arrived at the park, he tried to walk calmly towards the reception, but he practically sprinted towards the reception. Many people were lined up to visit the park, but he walked right past them, gaining multiple stares. The busy receptionist looked towards Tommy, smiled sweetly and asked, “How may I help you?”.

“Hey I’m Tommy! I’m here for the internship”. “OH! Of course!”. The receptionist got up from their desk and went towards a draw and pulled out a couple of things, some papers and a wet suit. “Here’s your suit! If the size needs adjustments, please let us know! Just head behind here” They gestured to some doors,

“Just head straight away and at the second turn, the third door to the left will take you to the office where our boss will speak to you!”. He smiled and thanked the receptionist.

He took the receptionist’s directions and knocked on the office door, “Come in!” said a voice on the other side. He entered and there sat a man who looked like he meant business, with his dark brown hair and horns. “I’m Schlatt, nice to meet ya’ Kid!”. He smiled; something seemed a little off about this man, but he seemed friendly enough.

He waved back, “Have a seat”. There the two conversed about the details, safety, rules and regulations of the job. He also had to sign some papers to make the job official but now he was officially an intern! And according to this one paper, he was going to be trained under a person by the name of $*&^£, and he was going to be working with a Mer named Wilbur.

From the details of Wilbur, he was quite the large Mer, being just about over 30 ft in length. He also had a record of being docile when being worked with but wasn’t the friendliest Mer but wasn’t the most dangerous either as he hasn’t had a track record of incidents.

When asked about it, they had said “Oh, Wilbur needs some experience, and every other trainer is currently really busy with their Mers, the only ones available were those two”.

Despite that fact, he was still excited! He was going to be working with a Mer and that was a rare opportunity! He got changed into the suit and went out into the training area. There sat the trainer, he looked shady with his hair and face unkempt, covered in dirt and the strange smell. He looked very strange, with the fact that he was also smoking a cigar which probably wasn’t allowed on the job.

“Ah, you must be the newbie.”. It sounded grumpy, like his face with a scowl but it immediately changed to a cheery and upbeat attitude. “Nice to meet you Kiddo! Name’s $%^&£ and I’m pretty sure you know how to work with Mer right?”. He nodded; he had taken a Marine Biology course.

“Good, I’ll show you the Mer you’ll be working with”. They walked towards the pool, despite Wilbur’s size, it looked quite small to fit a Mer as big as Wilbur. The man then dipped his hand into the water and made a couple of splashing movements. Tommy looked towards the water, and something worked within it. A chirp could be heard in response as water splashed as Wilbur surfaced.

“Wilbur, this is the newbie I told you about, be nice”. To which he left them to be alone, and by that, he left the room entirely. He was trusting a teenager with a dangerous creature, the thought of being alone with a Mer was exciting but all the scarier with how dangerous Mer could be.

After a brief moment of silence, the Mer made eye contact with Tommy, he looked to be scowling in somewhat disgust, not only that but unhappy. “Hey there! I’m Tommy!” he tried his best to smile but the look on Wilbur’s face somewhat scared him. The Mer made a low warning growl with his fins flared and dove back into the water, not even wanting to bother with Tommy.

Tommy stood still for a second in fear but a couple of minutes later nothing besides the stillness of the water, nothing had happened. It appeared Wilbur just went back to his den. He tried calling back Wilbur, but nothing worked. And this went on for days, Wilbur only coming out for training for his upcoming performance or food.

Tommy didn’t like the look of things, his excitement for working there slowly leaving him, every day was just hoping Wilbur would communicate with him, didn’t Mers tend to bond with humans?

 Wilbur found this new human that was around, very annoying. Every day the human would try to touch or talk to him, and he wanted nothing to do with it, every time he was called, he’d just ignore it. Why should he have to communicate with something that wasn’t necessary? He’s never known this human in his life and all humans were all the same, selfish.

 It was finally performance day; he would finally get to perform with Wilbur maybe it was a chance he could bond with him! That wasn’t how the day went, it was amazing! But he just sat around keeping watch on things, he just had to feed Wilbur the occasional treat as %&*£! Did all the work. He knew he couldn’t be too mad, but he thought it would be more exciting than this.

After the show, $%*£! seemed quite pissed off with how Wilbur performed today, but Wilbur did amazing! Why was he yelling at him? Was it not up to standard? But that wasn’t quite the case, £$%!$ smelt like alcohol and his words were slurred and movements clumsily made. Wilbur seemed to notice this himself and was quite pissed off himself.

“WHY CAN’T YOU JUST DO YOUR STUPID JOB YOU STUPID FISH!?”. He then slapped Wilbur in the face, Wilbur raised a claw to where he was hit but didn’t seem too affected by it. Wilbur growled in response, his face in a predatory look but he did not attempt to attack the man.

Tommy was shocked, to say the least, not only that but pissed off. Tommy always had an urge to protect, even those he wasn’t close to, but he’d still protect people who needed it.

“Hey! Who are you to hit him like that?! He didn’t do shit to you!” He yelled. £$%!* looked to Tommy with a face of pure rage, Tommy had badly pissed him off.

Wilbur dove back into the water as the two argued, it was a back-and-forth heated argument. Which eventually lead to the man trying to punch Tommy. Tommy evaded it but then he the man, made a different move, he pushed Tommy into the water.

Water filled Tommy’s lungs, the water dragging him into its depths, he tried swimming back upward but every try he couldn’t swim back up and he continued to sink. As he kept trying, a ‘swoosh’ sound filled his ears and the water moved. In his vision was Wilbur coming towards him as he lost conciseness.

[thiswasinevitableid]

For mermay, #25 siren for Sternclay, rating up to you? Thank you so much, I love your fics!

Here you go! I went with SFW and it's set in the same universe as the other siren prompt I got this year

Joseph has sailed so far over the horizon of regret that he’s landed right back on the shores of resolve.

The highway curves through low mountains, extends in interminable straight lines of super-heated asphalt, and he drives both stretches with purpose, eyes fixed on his goal so as not to see the last forty-eight hours lurking in his rearview mirror.

When the sign reading “Kepler: Population 3,000 on land, 50 in water” reflects the setting sun he slumps back in the driver seat, too tired to be glad, excited, afraid, or anything else at all.

He passes the Cryptonomica, proclaiming itself the premier place to learn about the Roadside Sirens. Rolling his eyes means he nearly misses the drawbridge warning, the barrier dropping and bridge rising to allow a small sailboat to pass. It’s aboard this he sees his first siren; dappled tail hanging in the water as she converses with the other passenger and waves to the siren working the bridge.

The bridge lowers and he continues forward as the early evening overtakes the main road. Neon crackles to life, creosote and rabbitbrush drift through the window when he rolls it down. The sign on Amnesty Lodge declares vacancies, so he pulls into the parking lot. It’s a strange lay-out, little cabins dotting the patches of pools that, once upon a time, must have been enclosed in rooms. Now they glisten under the emerging stars, some surrounded by lawn chairs and set ups to play horseshoes or cornhole. The building housing the lobby is precariously perched on the bank of the slow flowing river, another building whose neon is unlit sitting beside it. He pays the young lady at the counter for a week to week cabin and lugs the remainders of his life inside.

In the bathroom mirror, the wear of this trip is clear in the wrinkles on his suit and the dust on his shoes. He strips down, rinses off, and heads into the night in his shorts and T-shirt from Puget Sound. On a whim he turns right, follows a trail that leads him into the state park. He pays the five dollar fee in a little envelope as he continues on his way. Just as he reaches a scenic viewpoint, the singing starts.

Joseph can’t see any of the singers, can only pick up six or so distinct voices swirling around him.

It’s said the roadside sirens will tell you what you need.

It’s said the roadside sirens are the only way Kepler gets new residents

It’s said the roadside sirens will lead you to your hearts desire.

It’s said the roadside sirens are not always gentle.

All that tugs at Joseph’s heart is exhaustion. When footsteps creak across the boards behind him, he turns to find a man in a ranger uniform. Their eyes meet a moment and the man nods in greeting, “Evenin sir, you got any questions?”

“What do you hear when they sing?”

The ranger shrugs, “I hear them singin’. Never been all that susceptible to ‘em. Well, except for one, but he don’t sing all that often and the last time it was to tell me he missed me while I was out here workin’.”

Joseph raises an eyebrow. The man comes close enough for him to see his name tag. All it says is, “Duck.”

Duck chuckles, leans his arms on the railing, “S’okay, most folks don’t believe me when I tell ‘em that. See, thing about sirens is, you gotta have unfulfilled desires for the song to take hold. First time I was in Kepler, didn’t have a goddamn clue what I wanted from life. When I came back, found the two things I wanted right away. Been pretty content since.” He glances at Joseph, “why, you hear somethin that worries you?”

“I don’t hear anything besides-”

A burst of blue and orange light spills across them; the building beside Amnesty Lodge has come to life, and Joseph can see a line out the door from here. More importantly, someone is singing and his body moves towards the source without him noticing.

“I mean, if your main want is you’re hungry, Lodge is a damn good place to start. Put Kepler on the map. Or, uh, guess the sirens put it there and the Lodge kept it there once the novelty wore off.

“Uhumm” Joseph nods, waving an absentminded goodnight as he follows the path back to the Lodge. He’s about to join the others waiting to get through the door when he gets a flash of an image; a draft on a desk, announcing the Lodge needed a cooks assistant.

What the hell, it’s worth a try right?

A knock on the back door summons an older man in a “Joshua Tree” shirt.

“Howdy, if you’re lookin for the line-”

“I’m here about the assistant job.”

“Uhh, o-kay. Not the best time for it, but follow me.”

The man leads him down a set of stairs to a kitchen that is half in and half out of the water in a way that defies logic and physics. Swimming about are several sirens, plus two humans on the shore, cooking and sending food up to the main building in a dance that borders on chaos. In the middle of it all is a siren with a deep copper tail that matches his short beard and long hair tied back in a bun.

“Barclay! You got a minute?”

“Not really!”

“Okay then. I’ll just have this fella wait in your office until dinner rush is over.”

“Sure great yeah Moira wheres the crawfish for table ten?”

Which is how Joseph finds himself sitting in a cabin, twiddling his thumbs. His manners fight his boredom until he pulls a paperback from the nearby shelf and loses himself in the exploits of a someone recreating dishes from ancient civilizations. Doesn’t look up until the door opens and the same man, now with legs instead of that beautiful tail, walks in.

“Phew” he shuts the door with a satisfied smile, rests his head on the wood, then whirls and slams his back against it when Joseph clears his throat.

“GAHWHATTHEFUCK”

“I’m, I’m so sorry, I thought you heard, um, Thacker, tell you he was having me wait here.”

“W-wait here for wh--Oh, oh right, the assistant thing.” The siren scrubs his face, “yeah, uh, guess Mama must've put the ad out. Uh, would you say you’re organized?”

“Extremely. But honestly it doesn’t seem like you need that much help on that front.”

A deep, rich laugh, “I cleaned this morning, last night it looked like an earthquake hit this place. Guessing from the fact you didn’t freak out in the kitchen you’re cool with the supernatural?”

“Yes. It’s an area of interest for me.”

There’s suspicion in Barclay’s voice, hidden but very much present, “why’d you end up in Kepler?”

“I came here on purpose. I wanted to be somewhere where strange things were celebrated and out in the open. Not...not kept from the world.”

Barclay leans back on his desk, arms crossed, “Where’d you work before now?”

“The…” he sighs, resigns himself to finding somewhere else to go, “the FBI. UP branch, I was at Nellis when they, um, relieved me of my duties.”

For a long moment, Barclay studies him. Then he turns to his desk, setting stacks of papers in order as he hums. Joseph closes his eyes, takes calming breaths; all he wants is to be safe, to not have to run. All he wants is for Barclay to hold him, he’s never seen a man so handsome and a useless, primal part of him fixates on that fact. Also he’s starving, god, he hasn’t eaten since his breakfast of black coffee.

Barclay stops humming, “Come with me.”

Joseph follows him back down into the strange kitchen (“couple of friends of mine are pretty powerful magicians. They rigged up the kitchen for me”). All the lights are off, and without them he discovers Barclay’s eyes glow an eerie yellow-green. When he smiles, Joseph sees only the points on his teeth, not the crinkle at the edge of his eyes.

“Hungry?” Barclay rumbles.

“Starving.”

“You eat fish?”

“...Yes?” Will the wrong answer get him drowned.

The cook leaps towards the water, tail appearing and clothes vanishing at the last moment before he hits the dark surface. Joseph stands, on edge and curious, until the siren emerges, newly-dead trout in his hands.

“Tastes best fresh.” Barclay swims to his grill, turning it on in a click of a knob.

“Why not just stay human when you cook?” Joseph makes his way over to the station as Barclay butchers the fish and sets it into a heavily buttered pan.

“The charm only holds for so long before I need to be back in the water, and I get so busy during meals I don’t want to risk passing out because I went too long on shore. Besides” he spins elegantly to grab two spice jars, “I learned to cook in the water, so this is the most natural way for me.”

“Fascinating.” Joseph sits down, keeping himself out of arms reach of the water. Barclay seems nice, but sirens did not become famous for offering people things and then following through; hundreds of dead travelers prove that much.

“Where are you from?”

“Chicago, originally.”

“Ever see the great lake mers?”

“No.” He can’t help but feel disappointed that he’s only learning of their existence now.

“Quite a few out there. Sirens too.”

Well, that introduces some new reasons for all the shipwrecks.

“How do you know? Are you from there?”

“Nah. Been in Kepler my whole life. Even during the bad years, singing people into that godawful, overpriced casino buffet. Convincing them the shitty cold cuts were prime rib.” His hand stills a moment, clenches and then releases, “yeah. Every now and then” he starts chopping shallots, “one of the drunks would get it into their heads to pet the sirens tail or hair and I had to sit there and let them. My tail” he shudders, swipes the shallots into the pan so roughly Joseph starts.

“Sorry.” Barclay mumbles.

“Don’t be. I’m on edge, that’s all. And you have every right to be angry. Being forced to do something you know is wrong is....there’s no winning.”

“That why you just want a place to feel safe?”

It’s so easy to confess in the darkness of the cave.

“I put up too much of a fight about something. Refused to do something that went against my conscience. They let me go, which I feared but expected. Then I found my bank accounts were cut off and someone had manipulated the records to say I’d been fired for criminal activity so it’d be harder to find a job.”

A clink of metal on china, and then Barclay is holding a plate out to him with tenderness in his eyes, “I’m so sorry, Joseph. Here, at least you won’t be hungry.”

Joseph murmurs out his thanks.

“You a wine drinker?”

“Right now I could certainly go for some.”

A few flicks of that stunning tail and Barclay returns with a glass of white for each of them.

“To getting free of shitty pasts.” The cook raises his glass and Joseph bumps his against it. Barclay brings it to his lips, but smiles rather than sip, “and by the way: you got the job.”

-------------------------------------------------------

Being Barclay’s assistant is fifty percent clerical work and fifty percent following the siren around as he gathers ingredients or tests recipes. On Ned Chicane’s recommendation, Barclay had published a cookbook of both traditional siren foods and his own creations. It became a bestseller which, among other things, means Joseph has a brand new wardrobe, regular deliveries of gourmet food, and his cabin is now full of books. Whenever he points out that Barclay is already paying him and doesn’t need to buy him things, the siren simply rubs their cheeks together (a thing Joseph is only now getting used to) and tells him he likes doing it.

So when he’s not getting his recipes in order or typing up scribbled note cards into something legible, he’s following Barclay on foot or in a boat while he harvests or buys ingredients. Sirens have permission to fish and forage in areas, including the park, that humans don’t, which means he runs into Duck and his siren husband, Indrid, on more than one occasion while hauling lines into the boat.

The one time it gets stuck, Barclay pulls it out all on his own. Almost like he’s showing off the muscles in his back, arms, and tail.

The only thing Joseph won’t do is get in the water with the siren. He can’t get the images of drowned sailors, of fishermen torn to shreds, from his mind. Barclay is powerful, sharp-toothed and slit-pupiled, dangerous yet so gentle he once purred when Joseph complimented his food. And if Joseph never goes in the water with him, he’ll never have to confront the fact he wouldn’t mind if those pointed teeth dug into his skin and that tail trapped his legs while he thrashed in Barclay’s hold.

He assumes Barclay doesn’t notice; after all, swamps and marshes, even the river, are far less suited to a human swimming in them than an ocean or lake. This conclusion is bolstered by Barclay never, ever asking him to join him in the water. The siren is less careful about singing; he usually just hums as he works, but sometimes he sings wordlessly and Joseph nearly dives head first into the water (Barclay’s lap, if they’re on land).

Tonight, he’s cleaning up after Barclay’s test session of new recipes in the kitchen. The cook went out to visit some friends who live further in the state park, so when his voice drifts across the stones Joseph is surprised.

Cool, calloused hands on his cheeks, a tail stroking his thighs, his lips tracing up a sturdy leg. Copper hair twined in his fingertips, a heart beating in time with his own, teeth sinking into his skin, marking him, claiming him.

Water fills his nose and his body jerks back to the present, standing up in the shallow water that he stepped and stumbled face-first into.

“Joseph? Oh fuck, are you okay?” Barclay rounds the corner, swimming over to look up at him with concern.

“Yes. I, um, I think I got caught up in your song.”

“I’m sorry, I thought you were already upstairs or I wouldn’t have sung so loud. I know you can’t swim.”

“I can.” Joseph kneels, face down-turned in shame, “I was scared to, um, to be in the water with you. It’s, I was afraid of what might happen.”

Barlay swims back, “you thought I was gonna eat you?”

“No! Or, um, at first I didn’t want to foolishly assume that sirens in Kepler were harmless, since death isn’t high on my to-do list. Then I thought suddenly starting to swim would tip you off to the fact I’d been suspicious and I didn’t want to hurt you.” He runs a hand through his hair, “that song, though, Barclay, lord almighty is that what I want?”

“It’s what I want, I never sang it to bring you to me.”

“Oh.”

Barclay swims back to him, rubs their cheeks together, “Can I try something?”

“Anything” is all he gets out before he’s pulled into deeper water. He gasps for air, his own moans ricocheting across the room as Barclay bites his shoulder. On instinct his body tries to tread water, but copper scales trap his legs together, keep him flush against Barclay’s body.

“It’s okay babe, you can relax. I got you, I could keep us both afloat in my sleep.” He hums as he trails his lips across Joseph’s throat, “you’re safe. You’re with me.”

“Don’t make me leave.” The song pulls it out of him, because he wants to say it, wants to admit that losing what he has in Kepler terrifies him, just so he can hear-

“Never. You make me so fucking happy.” Barclay kisses him tenderly, keeps tracking his bite marks with a finger, “please stay. Stay for as long as you want."

"What if I want forever?" He rests his face on Barclay's shoulder as the siren spins them, dance-like, in the water.

"I think we can manage that."

[justatiredghost]

January Rain by the Sea Part 5

In a life of misery, the ocean is the only place Klaus has ever felt any sense of peace or belonging. He finds himself drawn here whenever it all gets to be too much

-

Klaus was trying to be careful, not wanting to tighten the net wrapped around Dave more than it already was, but his pocket knife wasn’t particularly big or sharp, causing him to have to saw at it roughly for longer than he’d like. It was a little awkward, especially with Dave watching him with a guarded look that was nothing like how he’d looked at him earlier that evening.

“So, what’s the story, then?” Klaus asked, desperate for anything to talk about. “Do you get dressed up and go swimming after dark like this often? Or—”

He reached out, planning to snap the waistband of what had to be a fake fishtail, but he touched his hip where tiny scales began, only to find that they really were sprouting from his skin. The detail was too precise, just a scattering before they became full overlapping scales that you’d expect on a fish. He couldn’t imagine anything fake holding up against his squirming and thrashing, being dragged across the sand as well as the coarse ropes of the netting. It had even damaged the tail in some areas, and there was no faking the rope burns or the bleeding. Or the way his tail curled that legs and knees couldn’t.

“Did you really expect it to be fake?” Dave asked, trying to hide the hint of a smile despite himself.

“Huh,” Klaus said. “This isn’t how I thought it would go, but I always knew the drugs would kill me eventually. Am I having a stroke or something?”

“I don’t think that’s how strokes work.”

“So you’re not a hallucination, then?” Klaus asked, studying him through squinted eyes in mock-suspicion.

“If I say that I am, what are the odds I get out of this alive?” Dave asked, turning grim again.

“Woah, woah,” Klaus said, raising his hands. “Who said anything about dying?”

“I mean,” Dave said. “Despite how I looked earlier, I’m not exactly human. Most people would be more than happy to sell me out.”

“Fame and fortune?” Klaus asked, waving a hand dismissively as he went back to cutting through the net. “Yeah, been there already, and I’d rather never go back.”

“So, what, you’re just gonna let me go?” Dave asked skeptically.

“I mean, yeah,” Klaus said. “Kidnapping isn’t really my thing. I mean, what am I supposed to do with a whole ass human? One that’ll have to live in a bathtub too. Besides, pretty sure everyone’s just looking for an excuse to lock me up. Can you imagine what would happen if I started going around telling everyone Merfolk are real?”

“Oh,” Dave said. “Um, thanks.” It didn’t exactly look like he believed him, but there was at least enough doubt that he didn’t look so hopeless, so that was nice at least.

“Just to be clear, though,” Klaus said, hoping to get him to relax. “You are the same Dave I met earlier, right?”

“Yeah?” Dave said, looking confused by the question.

“Okay, cool,” Klaus nodded, and he finally managed to untangle his tail, which Dave stretched cautiously, either because of his injuries, or because he didn’t want to accidentally smack Klaus, which he appreciated. “You can never be sure with these kinds of things.”

“I want to ask what you mean by that, but I’m afraid to know the answer.”

“Probably for the best. I’ve lived a wild life. Now, can I—“

He gestured to the net still wrapped around his chest, trapping his hand, and Dave nodded after a moment. His eyes fell closed as Klaus drew in close, his breathing finally seeming to calm.

“So,” Klaus said, trying to keep the conversation going. “When you said you had a thing tonight, you meant a fish thing?”

“Yeah,” he hesitated, like he wasn’t sure how much he should give away, and Klaus figured he should probably change the subject to something less personal.

“What about that trap you set up for your boss? How did that go?”

“Oh, it worked,” he said, chuckling more out of surprise than anything. “Thankfully, he doesn’t know it was me, otherwise he’d have sacked me immediately. Not that it matters now.”

“Way to be cryptic,” Klaus said, finally slicing through the last of the rope and throwing it to the side. “What does that mean?”

“Just—“ Dave said, avoiding eye contact as he rubbed life back into his numb arm. “It’s probably about time I moved on.”

“Hang on,” Klaus said. “You’re not leaving because of this, are you? Because it’s really not that embarrassing. I’ve done way worse stuff, ask anyone.”

“I don’t know. I’ve done some pretty stupid things, I’m honestly surprised this is the first time someone saw me. Just, I can’t have anyone knowing who I am.”

“Well, now I feel bad,” Klaus said. “I don’t care. Can you use your Mer-powers to wipe my memory?”

“I don’t— I don’t have any mind wiping powers,” Dave said in confusion.

“Oh well, worth a shot,” Klaus shrugged. “My sister could make me forget probably, but that means telling her, so we’ll just be right back where we started with someone knowing.”

“Your sister?” Dave asked, shaking his head. “I really can’t tell when you’re joking or not.”

Usually, Klaus went out of his way to never mention his family or the Academy. Unless he thought it might get him into an exclusive club or a discount or something. But he knew Dave’s secret, and he honestly did want to reassure him, maybe share a secret of his own so he wouldn’t feel so exposed. Klaus really had no idea what had gotten into him, he wasn’t this honest with anyone. This guy just felt so familiar, so right, that he found himself not caring about his usual caution. So he decided to keep going.

“Oh, I’m not kidding at all. She’s the Rumor. She got the fun power, I just get to listen to ghosts screaming.”

“I assume that’s supposed to mean something to me, but for the life of me, I have no idea,” Dave said, just looking more and more confused.

“Seriously? You’ve really never heard of me?” Klaus asked. “The Seance, the sexiest and most fun member of the Umbrella Academy? Where have you been living, under a rock?

“Kinda,” Dave admitted with a chuckle. “But the Umbrella Academy does sound familiar. That was the thing with the superhero kids, right? You were one of them?”

“That’s one way to but it I guess,” Klaus grumbled. “Way to make it sound incredibly boring.”

“And you said your power was ghosts?” Dave asked.

“Yeah, but I don’t think ghosts are going to be able to help us here. Not that I could hear them right now, even if I wanted to.”

“This has been one of the most wild conversations I have ever heard, and you’re the one who just found out I’m not human. How did that happen?”

“I told you, I’ve lived a wild life,” Klaus winked.

Klaus dug around in his pockets until he found what he was looking for and held it up in victory. He’d forgotten he had a spare joint, although now it was incredibly soggy. “Aha, I do have one left! So, are you gonna chill here and smoke with me, or do you need to head out on very important Mer business?”

“You’re gonna smoke that?” Dave asked, skeptically.

“It’s only a little damp,” Klaus said. “I just gotta dry it out first.”

“Right, well, good luck with that,” Dave said, turning away towards the ocean. “And thanks. For saving me.”

“Hey, it’s whatever, am I right? Just don’t make a thing out of it,” Klaus said, flopping onto his back and staring up at the stars. “I’d offer to walk you home like a real gentleman, but I’m not a gentleman, and also I imagine there’s a bit less walking and a bit more swimming involved.”

“Goodbye, Klaus.”

Klaus waved without looking, digging his toes into the sand. He must have taken his shoes off when he jumped into the water, he needed to remember to grab those, but at least this felt nice right now. He didn’t even hear Dave splash into the water, the next time he looked up, he was just gone. For some reason, a wave of melancholy washed over him as he was left alone on the beach. What was up with him, lately? He really needed to smoke this joint.

[razaks-wheel]

[In her research into Imperial-funded overhaul events, Meryse contacts the Nerevarine. This probably isn't canon. Unless]

3E 432

Meryse set up a sound wall around the projection room she had booked for the afternoon. She wished she could do this somewhere more private, like her own home, but even the "modern-style" projection that many mages made use of was still a little ways beyond her current skill level, and so she was stuck using a device at her local Mages Guild.

It was a dangerous game, she knew, doing research that could be considered anti-Imperial in an Imperial-funded facility, but she was fairly confident that she knew how to take the appropriate precautions. Besides, if the rumors could be trusted, the person she was going to be talking to was at least nominally considered a friend of the Empire, and so even if the projection could be tracked, she should be safe.

In their brief exchange of letters, they had provided each other with a pointer gem, a tiny crystal infused with a small amount of magicka, to make it possible to target each other with a projection. When the designated time came, Meryse placed Ildari's pointer gem in the device's slot and powered it up with a bit of her own magicka. She sat at the desk in the rune on the floor and set her notebook down in front of her while the device whooshed to life and sent its projection to what she imagined was a fabled mushroom tower all the way in Morrowind.

A few moments later, a translucent form appeared in front of her of a Dunmer woman with hair flopped to one side of her head. She had heard that the Nerevarine had been young, but she was still surprised to see that this mer barely looked older than she. Of course, it was hard to gauge an age from a projection, especially of a mer. Maybe she was older than she looked, or maybe Meryse was really just older than she felt.

As they exchanged introductions and pleasantries, Meryse noticed a ring on Ildari's finger decorated with Azuran symbology. She had heard of that ring, Moon-and-Star, in her studies when preparing for this meeting. It was said to give Nerevar, and only Nerevar, a substantial boon in interpersonal abilities. She wondered whether Ildari was wearing it for symbolic reasons, or if she was just as nervous to be interviewed by a stranger as Meryse was to be conducting the interview. Either way, Meryse wished she had a ring like that, though preferably one that wouldn't kill her.

"So, I'm studying some of the major events that the Empire has seemed to have a hand in, as part of a larger research project, and I wanted to talk to some of the key players in those events," Meryse said. "You were employed by the Emperor himself to fulfill your Nerevarine prophecies, correct?"

"Ah...not exactly," Ildari said. "The Emperor selected me, yes, and tried to get me into his service, but I never even ended up talking to the guy the Empire wanted me to go to."

"Oh," Meryse said, her pen hovering above her notes. "Can I ask why?"

"Someone intercepted me outside the Census and Excise office and gave me a better offer if I would take the orders they'd given me to his boss instead of the Imperial contact I was told to meet. His boss was on the council of House Telvanni, which I wanted to connect with anyway, being my ancestral House, and it gave me the option not to work for the Empire, so I took him up on it."

"And the Empire was fine with you not following their orders?"

"'Fine' would be a stretch." She laughed. "Let's just say that when I visit my mom in the Imperial City these days, I stay clear of Green Emperor Way. They probably know better than to mess with me, honestly, but I also know better than to dangle myself in front of them."

Well, that was a deviation. Maybe this was more dangerous than Meryse had anticipated, if this Ildari was less of a friend of the Empire than she had previously believed. On the other hand, it might mean that her answers would be more useful than she expected, as long as any of the questions she had prepared still applied. She probed her wards to make sure they were holding up, and then glanced down at her notebook to decide where to go next.

"You were still initially set on your path by the Emperor, right? Do you know how he picked you?"

"Oh, Uriel absolutely orchestrated my involvement, even if I broke away the second I had the chance," Ildari said. "Certain entities have the ability to identify 'Heroes'—agents of prophecy. Gods can do it. I suspect Moth Priests can, too. Something about it being written in the Elder Scrolls. I assume an emperor has connections and probably makes it his business to keep tabs on any Heroes that pop up.

"Here's the thing, though: they did have to mess with my life to make it work. They killed my parents before I was old enough to remember them, because the prophecy said the Nerevarine has to have 'uncertain parents.' And they made up the charges that landed me in prison, because apparently being in prison is important to trigger the start of a prophecy, at least according to my friend Vivec. That tells me two things. First, they identified me as a Hero early on, long before the prophecies were actually set to be fulfilled. Second, they're willing to force a prophecy's conditions to be met, if it suits them."

"Wow, I...didn't realize they would go that far. Not that it's surprising, exactly. I guess I just didn't know they had the resources and the drive to act on prophecy so long before it's relevant."

She took a moment to consider the implications for her own research, and jotted a few notes down. She looked at her next question. It would sound strange, she knew, but Ildari seemed open-minded enough. Clearly, she was already aware of the implications of prophecy; she might not balk at a question about the nature of time and the aurbis.

"Did anything...strange happen while you were fulfilling your prophecies?" she asked. "I know that's broad. Anything that's hard to explain or understand, maybe relating to the flow of time?"

"That's very broad," Ildari agreed. "There was the part where I got all my memories back from my past seventeen incarnates' lives. That was strange and somewhat relates to the flow of time. But that's pretty specific to me. Probably not what you're looking for." With half a smile, she asked, "So, you're studying the Warp in the West?"

"Ah...yes," Meryse said with a nervous laugh.

"Don't buy the idea that it was a miracle from the Divines?"

"Not exactly," she said. "Not even a little bit, really. I want to figure out what really happened. Everyone sort of waves their hands around what happened, and no one seems to remember it. I do, sort of, but I was a kid, so no one believes me. I want to know what the Empire is hiding, and what else they might be hiding—who else they've hurt."

"Well, if you're looking for people the Empire has hurt, you've come to the right place," Ildari said dryly. "Be careful, though. The Empire doesn't always look kindly on its opponents, much less on people trying to uncover its secrets. I can say what I want, within reason, because quite frankly, I have power—both politically and in terms of combat ability. If you can't say the same, you should take care who you say these sorts of things to."

"Oh, I am careful, don't worry," she said. "I've got wards set up right now, I obscure my notes, and I keep my exact research questions largely to myself."

Ildari nodded. "That aside, though, you said you remember the Warp? The whole thing?"

"I remember three distinct days, when everyone talks about it being one or two. And when it was over, we were bending a knee to Uriel, and suddenly everyone was talking about the Nine like Talos had been there all along."

That seemed to interest Ildari. She paused, brow furrowed, and opened her mouth a few times as if to talk, but changing her mind each time.

After a few moments, she finally said, "I wonder if you're a Hero."

That was, somehow, not what Meryse was expecting.

"Me? I doubt it. I'm not strong or powerful or...special in any particular way, and I've never noticed the Empire messing with my life specifically, like you say they did with yours." She shrugged. "I'm just a mage, a researcher."

"So was I, before they shipped me off to Seyda Neen."

Meryse considered it for a moment longer. "I don't know. If that's all it is, it just feels like such a disappointing answer. And even if it is true, I still want to know how it happened. I guess I'll keep researching until I know better."

"Good idea. I'm sure there's plenty that the Empire is hiding; you being able to tell that they're hiding something is more of a compass than a solution," Ildari said. "Still, you might want to consider picking up some survival skills, maybe learn how to use a sword or armor, just in case you get tossed on an adventure without warning."

"Yeah, couldn't hurt," Meryse said. "Well, thank you for taking the time to talk to me. This has been...enlightening, really, even if not in the ways I expected." She added a small laugh at the end.

"Research is never boring, is it?" Ildari said. "I hope you find what you're looking for. And if you publish your work, I'd love to read it."

"I will be sure to send you a copy. Thanks again, Ildari." She waved awkwardly and disconnected the projection.

Once the projection device was back to its inert state and she had taken Ildari's pointer gem out of its slot, she glanced down at her notes one more time. There was not much there, but she still felt like she had learned a lot, and come out with more questions than she had entered with. Naturally.

She added one more note about picking up some new skills, and then passed an encryption spell over the page. When she was satisfied that her notes were sufficiently obscured from prying eyes, she closed her notebook, slipped it into her bag, lowered her wards, and headed back out into the Mages Guild as though her concept of the world had not just been shaken.

[hood-ex]

Damian glared at Pennyworth’s back as the butler made his way to the kitchen. Why the butler had refrained from telling him that Todd’s usual spot at the dining room table happened to be directly across from Damian’s preferred seat was beyond his understanding. Clearly, the butler was not on his side. Why else would he shame him in such a way by having him so close to the Mer that had embarrassed him in front of his father?

Even though Damian was not looking directly at the Mer, he could feel Todd’s heated gaze drilling into the side of his face. The staring was nearly as obnoxious as the sharp sound Todd’s teeth made when he bit into the cod and shrimp Pennyworth had prepared for dinner. It easily drowned out the sounds of clinking plates and silverware.

It was something Damian would have snapped at Todd for had his thoughts not been occupied by the two Mer’s state of dress, or lack thereof in this case. Todd’s attire consisted of nothing but a pair of black athletic shorts, and even the shorts did not cover much, being mid-thigh in length. Drake’s black leggings only offered slightly more coverage.

Their lack of clothing did not make Damian uncomfortable per say, he was simply not used to seeing casual wear in this setting. It made the Mers look oddly out of place in such a house of grandeur, especially when compared to how his father and Pennyworth dressed.

Damian had no doubt Dick would have worn something similar to the two Mers had he followed them upstairs. To Damian’s confusion, the Mer had never resurfaced after sliding back into the water to soak his scales. It was not something Damian thought to question until now. He’d been too busy marveling over the fact that Todd and Drake’s tails had been replaced by human legs as soon as they withdrew from the water, something his father had promised to explain to him after dinner.

He had his own theories on the matter, of course. Having grown up around a Lazarus Pit opened his mind to ideas that normal people would think to be out of the realm of possibility. He was inclined to believe that magic was involved in some way, and if not magic, then he thought it was possible that Todd and Drake were a different “breed” of Mer that could shift naturally between two physical states. If that were the case, it would make sense as to why Dick had apparently still had his tail when he had gotten out of the water. It was possible that he was not the same kind of shapeshifter Mer that Todd and Drake were.

For all Damian knew, Todd and Drake could have been from the same pod. Damian would not have assumed as much based on physical appearance alone. The two Mers did not share any similar features other than the color of their hair and eyes, but that didn’t rule out the possibility of them being cousins or distantly related.

“So, Damian,” Drake said suddenly, breaking up the awkward silence that had settled over the table ever since the food had been passed out. Damian turned his attention to the smaller Mer, surprised to be addressed by him of all people. Ever since Dick had disappeared, Drake had acted far more reserved and did not offer any jokes as he had when Damian had been dragged out of the water. Damian wondered if this was his usual personality or if Drake was simply more confident when he was in Dick’s presence. “You’ve been in Gotham for a week, right? How are you liking it so far?”

Damian would have scoffed if he wasn’t busy chewing a mouthful of rice. He waited until he swallowed before saying, “You’re foolish to assume I’ve been allowed to see anything beyond these walls.”

He looked pointedly at his father since he was the one responsible for such a decision. Damian had been informed on his first day in Gotham that he was not allowed specific privileges until his father felt as though he could trust him.

I still don’t know much about you, Damian his father had said after bringing Damian to the bedroom he’d be staying in. You’ll get your sword, a computer, and the opportunity to go where you want when I decide it’s safe.

His father returned Damian’s steely look from where he sat at the head of the table but said nothing about the accusation. His father simply reached for another piece of shrimp and bit into it harshly, quickly using a napkin to dab at the juices gathered at the corners of his mouth. There was something in the silent rage of the action that reminded Damian of his first day at the manor.

There had been a lot of harsh words said on his part. Demanding his father to fight him. Yelling at the butler. Throwing his dinner on the floor and raging about how disgusting it was. Screaming about a multitude of other things that made his father’s face turn red.

Damian pressed his tongue against his teeth and silently seethed as he continued to remember the harsh words his father had said to him then.

You dishonor your sensei with this loss of composure! Your rage is born of fear and is unbefitting in a student of the martial arts!  

Damian gripped the end of the white tablecloth that was dangling above his legs and rubbed the thick fabric between his fingers. The rough texture gave him something to focus on other than the mixture of shame and anger he felt remembering those words.

His mother abandoning him in a new place with an unfamiliar culture had contributed towards his behavior that night. The realization that his behavior had been unfitting of the trained warrior he was—and was trying to prove himself to be—had extinguished the hostile rage inside of him. Still, he could not help but feel bitter about his situation now.

Damian had been raised by the League of Assassins, and he was used to getting what he wanted whenever he wanted it. Being denied the food he wanted, the personal belongings he wanted, and the living situation he wanted was not something he was used to. It had infuriated him then and it still infuriated him now, especially since he was being forced to eat the Mer’s cuisine preference. The rice was tolerable, but the seafood, especially the smell of it, was not to his taste.

“That’s not true,” Todd said while sucking remnants of shrimp from his fingers. There was no mistaking his smirk as he said, “You got to see a pretty great view of the ocean.”

Damian barely heard his father’s sharp reprimand towards the Mer. His harsh breathing was loud in his ears, and without thinking about it, his hand moved towards the concealed knife in his pants. He stopped just before reaching into his pocket, frowning as he realized that he had left the knife in his room along with his wet clothes. Damian dug his nails into his pants and internally screamed. Of all the times—

“Okay, okay!” Todd yelled suddenly, causing Damian to refocus on the tense conversation his father was having with the Mer. “Krill, I was just joking.”

“Time and place, Jay. Time and place,” Father stressed with a glare. “You need to apologize for what you said.”

Jason sputtered and looked at Damian in horror, the very idea of saying sorry most likely rankling him. Damian’s anger towards his father dissipated and was quickly replaced by a feeling of pleased satisfaction. His father was taking his side and it felt good.

Perhaps the longer Damian stayed here, the more his father would come to favor him over the Mers, as he should. Damian offered far more in skills and intelligence than anyone else did, including the Mers.

“Technically, he never even apologized for actually doing it,” Drake said.

Todd bared his sharp teeth at Drake, which instantly made Drake divert his eyes and bow his head. It was a submissive reflex if Damian ever saw one. He wondered if there was a strict social hierarchy in Mer pods, and if there was, what quality was the hierarchy built on? Dominance, status, skills, size, or even age?

He would have to pay closer attention to the Mer’s interactions to try and determine the ins and outs of their social structure. First, he would have to figure out how big their pods were and if Dick, Todd, and Drake were part of the same pod or not. Based on what he’d experienced so far, he would assume Dick was the most dominant. Then again, Dick and Todd had been fighting in the cave, neither of them acting submissively towards the other.

Damian would study their interactions more during his stay. Right now, he was far more interested in making Todd grovel.

“You heard him,” Damian said, crossing his arms over his chest with a smug grin. “Apologize.”

Damian was unsure whether it was his expression or his demand that finally made Todd snap. All he knew was that one second Todd was sitting at the table, and the next, he was marching towards the door with his fists clenched at his sides.

“Bite me!” Todd spat just before disappearing into the other room. Clicks and trills followed in his wake. The inhuman noises echoed through the halls, sending goosebumps down Damian’s arms. Damian gaped at the empty space Todd had filled, appalled at being spoken to in such a way.

“Father! Did you hear what he just said? I demand reparations for his behavior!”

“Reparations?” Drake muttered with a bewildered look. “What kind of English lessons are they teaching you back home?”

The loud sigh his father let out while rubbing his hands over his face was enough to keep Damian from snapping back at Drake, even though it practically made his skin itch to let his insult go. Father’s face was pink by the time he finally placed his hands back on the table. He looked at Drake.

“Take yours and Jason’s plates to the kitchen, please.”

Drake’s face twisted in annoyance. “Why do I have to clean his—”

“Tim,” Father snapped, a warning in his tone. “Clean them off for Alfred and then go back downstairs.” Softer this time, he added, “Dick will want to spend some time with you before we go out tonight.”

The idea of spending time with the other Mer seemed to improve Drake’s mood if the way his eyes lit up in excitement was any indication. Damian ignored him. He was far more interested by his father’s comment about taking the Mers out with him. He was no idiot. He knew what the implication there was, which only confused him about his earlier assumption regarding Dick’s lack of human legs.

“Oh yeah!” Drake jumped up from his chair and quickly stacked his plate on top of Todd’s. He used his other webless hand to grab the rims of his and Todd’s glasses between his fingers. “We were gonna watch the next episode of Avatar!”

Father’s smile was barely visible as he said, “Wouldn’t want to miss that.”

“Heck no. I gotta find where Jay stomped off to because Dick won’t play it without him.” Drake hurried around the table, his hair bouncing from how quickly he was walking. He darted out of the room chanting, “Pod night! Pod night! Pod night!”

“Tt,” Damian said, attracting his father’s attention. “What is pod night?”

Father stood from his seat and began gathering his own empty plate and drink in his hands. “Usually just time when the boys watch TV or play video games together.”

Damian looked down at his own plate of untouched fish. He had eaten all of his rice and vegetables, but the fish was something he simply couldn’t stomach.

“Not a fan of fish?” Father asked, looking between him and the cod.

“No. I find it disgusting.”

“Hn. I guess we’re lucky it didn’t make its way to the floor this time around then.”

Damian felt his cheeks burn hot at the reminder of his unfavorable behavior. “Yes, Father.” He stood from his chair and moved to follow his father out of the room, only to nearly run into his father’s back. Father stared at him.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?”

Brow furrowing in confusion, Damian looked back at the table, thinking he had left something valuable there by mistake. The only things he could see were the near empty dishes of cod, shrimp, vegetables, and rice in the middle of the table. Well, that, and his own plate and drink.

His silence must have gone on too long because his father sighed impatiently. “Your cup and plate, Damian. Grab them and bring them to the kitchen. We’ll go to the living room and talk about some things after that, okay?”

“But, Father, that is what the butler is for,” Damian said, rolling his eyes. What was the point in having a butler if not to let him do all the cleaning?

“Alfred is far more than just a butler,” Father said brusquely. “He’s a respected member of this family. And as a way to show him thanks for cooking our meals, we help him out by washing our own dishes. Understood?”

Clenching his teeth at the absurdity of having to wash his own dishes, Damian nodded stiffly and walked back to the table to gather his plate and drink in his hands. This was ridiculous. Surely his mother would not have left him here if she had known he’d be subjected to servant labor.

He would have smashed the plate on the floor in defiance if not for the fact that he knew his father would be furious with him, and Damian couldn’t have his father thinking badly of him. He needed to show his father that he was worthy of being his son. That he was a capable ninja that could do the Batman mantle justice in the future. That meant trying to behave in a way his father would appreciate.

Knowing that didn’t make picking up his dirty dishes any easier. He did it in angry silence, and by the time he turned around, he realized his father had already left the room. Damian huffed and hurried after him to the kitchen.

His father was already washing off his dishes at the sink when Damian finally got there. Father was being closely watched by the butler, who was making some kind of dessert at the marble island in the middle of the room. Damian spotted the bag of chocolate chips on the island and assumed they must have been for cookies.

The butler was still in the mixing batter stage of the baking process. The sleeves of his dress shirt were professionally rolled up to his elbows, most likely to keep them clean. He stopped his work to acknowledge Damian’s presence with a tight smile. Damian didn’t bother returning the forced gesture.  

Father placed the washed dishes in the dishwasher with a clack loud enough to make Pennyworth flinch. Father then turned around and looked down at the plates in Damian’s hands. He looked… well, Damian wasn’t exactly sure. He wanted his father to be proud of him for doing something he didn’t want to, but instead of getting a pleased smile or anything, his father simply motioned for him to take his turn at the sink.

Damian’s mood deflated even further. He wondered why his father was always displeased with him even as he did exactly as the man asked. He tossed his leftovers into the garbage with a loud thud and then moved to the sink to wash his dishes. He simply ran water over them as his father had done, and when the dishes looked clean enough, he placed them into the dishwasher.

“I appreciate your help, Master Damian,” Pennyworth said as soon as Damian turned away from the sink. “I’m making chocolate chip cookies that will be ready in an hour if you would like to have some.”

Damian’s mouth watered at the thought. “Only if I’m allowed first pick of the batch.” He wanted to choose the biggest cookies with the most chocolate chips. It would certainly make up for the atrocious fish he’d been given for dinner.

“A tall order to fill in this household,” Pennyworth said, eyes twinkling in amusement. “If you come back when they’re done baking and help me remove them from the tray, I’ll allow you first pick. How does that sound?”

Damian mulled it over. He didn’t necessarily like the idea of doing even more servant work, but what he liked even less was the idea of not getting the cookies he wanted.

Finally making up his mind, he said, “Those are acceptable terms, Pennyworth.”

“Good.” Damian followed Pennyworth’s gaze over to where Father was now standing by the doorway, checking his watch. “I believe that will give you and Master Bruce enough time for a chat.”

Damian nodded and hurried to follow his father’s quickly retreating footsteps into the hallway. There was no need to try to walk stealthily since the hallways in this section of the house had thick decorative rugs running down the middle of them. The rugs swallowed any sounds their feet would have made. Maybe that was why the rugs had been left untouched during multiple other remodeling projects the manor had obviously been through. The mixture of old architecture and newer paint and furniture was one of the first things Damian had noticed about the house when he had first walked through it.

The large living room they entered was definitely one of the rooms remodeled into a more modern style. There was a cream L shaped couch in the middle of the room covered in multiple decorative pillows and throw blankets. A large wooden coffee table was placed in front of it. Multiple coasters and remotes sat on top of the table in organized stacks and rows, meaning there had to be a TV somewhere.

Sure enough, when Damian looked at the wall across from the couch, he spotted a large TV mounted on the wall. He wondered how often anyone actually used it. There were TVs in multiple rooms of the house, including the kitchen. He found it hard to believe anyone used this room regularly even though the vanilla-scented oil freshener made the room feel more lived in. The Mers, who were apparently watching TV together in the cave, definitely weren’t the ones using it.

Father made space for them to sit on the couch by carelessly tossing the decorative pillows to the side. Damian plopped down on one of the cushions and crossed his arms over his chest. He barely waited for his father to settle down before getting right to business.

“Mother did not believe that the vigilantes you run around with are Mers,” he started off with. He watched closely as Father’s expression remained controlled and calculating, revealing nothing about his emotions. “She always thought they might be Atlanteans instead.”

It was possibly a large assumption to identify the Mers and the vigilantes his father worked with at night as the same people, but there was too much information matching up with what his mother had shared with him before his arrival here for him to think otherwise.

When his mother had initially shown him pictures and videos of his father, she had also included images of three boys that went by Red Robin, Red Hood, and Nightwing. From the information the League had collected over the years, his mother had learned that Nightwing had been active in his father’s life for at least eight years. He had gone by the name Robin up until a new child came into the picture and took the mantle from him. The second child was the current Red Hood, who had only been spotted four years ago.

Oddly enough, Robin had disappeared for a short period of time, and instead of his return, a new child named Red Robin appeared. He was his father’s most recent partner, having only been spotted fighting crime alongside his father for roughly a year.

Upon Damian’s arrival in Gotham, he had insisted on knowing who his father’s partners were. He had been itching to confront the vigilantes that worked with his father ever since he learned of their existence. Seeing pieces of their costumes, trophies, and weapons in the batcave only fueled his desire to fight the three boys for his rightful place at his father’s side.

His request to meet his father’s partners had been shot down immediately. The reason his father had given him was that Damian wasn’t trusted enough to know the boy’s identities or locations yet. His father had even refused contact with the vigilantes this past week because of Damian’s presence, and he had made it seem like it would be a significant amount of time before he would be working with them again. That was why when his father had talked about introducing him to some people in the cave a few hours ago, Damian had not jumped to the conclusion that the people in question would be Batman’s partners.

When Damian had been denied information about the vigilantes, he had used his week at the manor to try and find his own information about the three boys, only to come up with nothing. He saw no evidence of the boys having ever lived in the manor. There were no pictures of them on the walls. No bedrooms decorated with personalized items. No letters mailed to them in the post. Damian thought that meant the vigilantes must have had their own families to live with.

For some time, his mother had thought the boys lived with his father at the manor, and that his father had guardianship over them. That was before his mother realized there were no legal documents to prove such claims, nor was there any legal evidence that they existed in general. That had led his mother to think that the boys were Atlanteans since Atlantis was located close to Gotham in the North Atlantic Ocean.

Mers had not crossed his mother’s mind for obvious reasons. There had been no account of Mers being able to travel on land. Even his grandfather had not witnessed such a thing in all his years of living. Most of the Mers that were questioned by his grandfather revealed they had no interest in living on land. Many of them still had a fear of humans because of how their ancestors were hunted for sport prior to the establishment of the Mer Welfare Act.

Father regarded him with a look of hesitance that showed the mistrust in his eyes. Damian wished it didn’t affect him so much and tried to remind himself that they had barely known each other for a week. His mother told him that it had been difficult for his father to open up even around her. Damian wanted it to be different with him. He needed it to be different with him.

“I thought you weren’t going to allow me to meet them for a few weeks,” Damian said when his father continued to study him in that calculating way of his. The intense gaze made Damian want to shift out of nervousness. He clenched his hands around his thighs as a reminder not to fidget.

“I wasn’t,” Father said. His eyes dropped down to Damian’s tense hands. Almost immediately, Father loosened his shoulders and leaned back more comfortably against the couch. He rested his right arm along the top of the couch and propped his head up with his hand.

Seeing his father more relaxed made some of the tension leak from Damian’s own shoulders. He wondered if his father had done that on purpose or if the action was subconsciously done after deciding Damian was not currently a threat. Either way, Damian felt slightly more comfortable. He grabbed one of the throw pillows and hugged it to his chest to give his arms something to do.

His father’s face seemed to soften slightly. “Dick didn’t think it would be good for the pod to stay away for as long as I had planned.” Father scrunched his brow as if contemplating how to express his thoughts. “Mers are… very social. It can be distressing for them to be away from their pod for a long period of time.”

“And you’re part of their pod?” Damian questioned, hugging the pillow just a little tighter.

“Yes, so is Alfred.”

“But, Father!” Damian shot forward, feeling something like anger and disbelief settle in his stomach. “They’re not your family! I am!”

“Damian…”

“How could you possibly be part of their pod? You’re not even the same species as them!”

“Damian,” Father repeated sternly. The soft look he held morphed into one of disapproval. Damian hated it. “I’m not asking you to understand right now. I’m just telling you how it is.”

“Tt. So, what, the three freeloaders stay here most of the time? What about the rest of the pod? Surely they must be here frequently as well if they’re as socially dependent as you say.”

Father looked slightly confused. “There are no others. Dick, Jason, and Tim were orphans who made their own pod. They’re brothers.” Damian felt like he was being treated like a spooked animal when his father cautiously said, “And I’m their father.”

The admission, while not a complete shock, still sent Damian reeling. Deep down, he had known this scenario was a possibility, and it was something he had feared would be true. The way his father tried to mediate between the Mers, the way he scolded them like they were children, and the way he made sure they did their own chores displayed a certain level of parental authority. It was something Damian vaguely recognized, but could not confirm for himself since he did not have much of his own experience with parental guidance and care. But now that it was spelled out for him, Damian could not deny that it was true.

The feeling of being replaced made Damian sick to his stomach. In his absence from his father’s life, his father had found suitable imposters to take Damian’s place. The Mers were currently living the life Damian had craved since he was a young child. They had his father’s love, his trust, and were already sharing in his legacy. What did Damian have?

Nothing. He had nothing.

“I’m your blood son,” Damian said, aware that his voice sounded embarrassingly fragile. Weak, he thought, you’re weak. Father knows it. He saw it for himself when Todd dragged you under and nearly drowned you.

“Yes, you are,” Father said in that same cautious tone. He looked like he was contemplating moving closer to Damian, but instead, he gripped the back of the couch and pushed himself further into the cushions. Further away from Damian. “But even though we don’t share the same blood and aren’t the same species, I still think of Dick, Jason, and Tim as my sons. I’ve helped raise them since they were young.”

The pictures of two young Robins who were not much older than Damian was now flashed through his mind.

“Dick was the first Robin,” Damian stated. He’d gathered as much based on his observation of the Mer’s behavior as well as how his Father continued to order Dick’s name first when mentioning the Mers.

Father nodded. “Yes, he was the first.”

“Then why does he no longer have his human legs like Todd and Drake?”

“It’s a long story.”

Father checked the watch on his wrist, an action that irritated Damian to no end. People were always checking the time when they were around him. His grandfather and his senseis did it often enough to make him feel like they were always waiting to get rid of him as soon as possible. He’d come to learn that if they weren’t training him in some skill or telling him valuable knowledge, they didn’t necessarily seem to care much for his presence. His mother was slightly better in that regard. Not that it accounts for much, Damian thought with a sneer, she was hardly around anyways.

He thought it might be different here. He had hoped his father would not only accept him as a worthy heir, but also as a son worth getting to know. With the way the week had gone so far, Damian didn’t see that happening anytime soon. Not with the way his father barely paid him any mind other than to make sure he wasn’t trying to escape or kill other people.

But Damian was nothing if not persistent. He would continue to try and worm his way into his father’s good graces until his father found himself liking Damian’s company, especially over that of the Mers. If he had to follow his father’s rules—the ridiculous “no kill” rule in particular—to achieve the attention he desired, then so be it.

“We’ll stick with the condensed version for now,” Father muttered, turning his attention back to Damian. “How much do you know about magic?”

“I know enough.”

Father paused for a second, his eyes narrowing. Damian squeezed one of the tassels on the pillow between his fingers to keep himself from fidgeting under his father’s scrutinizing gaze. He’d come to learn that his father liked specifics. The more specific, the better. Damian was similar in that way and could relate to the annoying itching feeling of not knowing enough. Still, he didn’t feel compelled to explain himself further.

“I’m sure you know there are very many powerful magic users then,” Father continued after a moment. Damian nodded. He knew of multiple magic users, including the woman his father worked with frequently. “There’s one in particular I contacted when Dick was younger. I asked him to make a spell or a charm that would alter Dick’s biology enough to allow him to live on land with me.”

Damian furrowed his brow in confusion. “For what reason?”

“There were a few. Mainly because I became Dick’s guardian after his pod was murdered. It was too hard for me to keep an eye on him when I couldn’t be in the water with him all the time and when he could only be on land until his scales dried out. Dick’s decision to become Robin made it even more necessary.”

There were a lot of questions Damian had about the Mer’s story, but he knew his father did not want to take the time to answer them now. Perhaps Damian could get answers from the Mer himself if he ever got the chance to be alone with him.

“Tt. You obviously got what you wanted from the magic user,” Damian said. Dick, Todd, and Drake’s ability to fight on land was proof of that. “That still doesn’t explain why Dick doesn’t have legs now. Was the spell that was cast on him broken?”

“No,” Father said. He ran his hand through his hair and then scrunched up his face in disgust. Damian had no idea what his issue was until his father started wiping his hand against his pants while grumbling, “Forgot I put gel in.”

Damian almost laughed at the way his father continued to press his sticky fingers together with a scowl on his face. It made him look like a child.

“Do you need to go wash your hands?” Damian smirked.

“It’s fine,” Father sighed in a self-resigned sort of way. He carefully rested his hands on top of his thighs to keep them from touching anything. “And no, there was never a spell put on Dick. The magic user made very powerful charms for the boys to wear instead.” Father looked slightly annoyed when he said, “A charm which Dick had up until about a month ago.”

Damian’s eyes widened as he instantly thought of the obsidian stone necklaces he had noticed Todd and Drake wearing when he saw them emerge from the water. At the time, he thought the necklaces were gifts from his father, and apparently they were, but more importantly, they were most likely the charms his father was talking about.

“He lost it?” he asked distractedly. He was suddenly very interested in going back downstairs to see if Dick was wearing the same necklace or not.

“He gave it to an Atlantean friend of his during a mission gone wrong. His friend was captured and the charm was stolen from him.”

“And what? There’s no chance of retrieving it?”

“We’ll get it back as soon as we can locate the magic user. He’s the only one who can find it.”

“Tt. Wouldn’t it just be easier to cast a locator spell on it?”

“It wouldn’t work. There is a sort of… sentience to the charms. They teleport outside of our realm as a fail safe when they’re in the hands of people with ill intentions.”

“And where exactly would that be,” Damian scoffed, “hell?”

“It’s a possibility,” Father said seriously, making Damian blink in surprise. “It either returned to the hellfire it was made in or it was transported to Merlin.”

Now his father was starting to speak of things beyond Damian’s understanding. Merlin was commonly mentioned in the magical literature that Damian had read during his studies with the League. What little information he knew about Merlin would have no chance of helping him comprehend Merlin’s involvement in the current situation.

Hell was a subject his grandfather most likely would have studied thoroughly since he was so intent on never going there. It was something Damian would have asked the man about had his family not been on disagreeable terms with each other lately.

Father glanced at his watch again. Damian tried—and failed—to stop himself from glaring.

Father’s tone was apologetic when he said, “You know what? I need to get back to the cave to do some research before I go out tonight.”

As if on cue, the smell of freshly baked cookies suddenly wafted into the room. Damian’s mouth watered and his stomach let out a small rumble. Any irritation he felt towards his father was quickly dismissed as he thought about all the cookies he would eat.

“That’s alright, Father,” he said as he stood up and carelessly threw the pillow back onto the couch. “I have cookies to attend to anyway.”

“Right.” Father followed his lead and stood up. He at least tried to put the pillows back into some semblance of order by grabbing the pillows between his wrists instead of with his sticky hands.

Damian would have never bothered with such a thing. It wasn’t his job.

“After you’ve helped Alfred and gotten your cookies, why don’t you come back down to the cave to meet Dick? He’s probably still watching TV on the projector with Jason and Tim.”

Damian pursed his lips. He still felt bitter about what had happened earlier and wasn’t all that keen about being near Todd again, but at the same time, he desperately wanted to see if Dick was wearing a necklace.

“I’ll come as long as he doesn’t try to drown me,” Damian said after a moment.

Father winced at the reminder and motioned for Damian to leave the room first. Damian happily complied and shot forward into the hall, intent on getting to the kitchen as fast as possible.

“About that,” Father said loudly enough for his voice to rumble through the corridors. “In Mer culture, it’s common for younger Mers to respect and defer to older Mers. Since Jason is older than you, he felt disrespected by the way you behaved in front of him. That’s probably why he reacted the way he did.”

That certainly answered Damian’s question about the Mer’s hierarchy, which was apparently based on age.

“Tt. I can’t help it if he’s oversensitive,” Damian dismissed with a wave of his hand. He came to an abrupt stop when he realized he almost walked right past the kitchen. His father stopped as well and regarded him with a wary look.

“It’s just something to keep in mind when you’re talking to them. Especially to Jason. Tim probably won’t try to pull rank on you, and Dick definitely won’t.”

Damian rolled his eyes as his father carried on towards the cave. If the Mers thought they could boss him around because he was the youngest, they were in for a rude awakening. He would show them he wasn’t at the bottom of the totem pole; that he wasn’t weaker than them or inferior to them in any way. The only question was how exactly he would do that.

The answer came to him faster than he expected. He was only halfway across the kitchen when an idea crossed his mind. It was so brilliant that he had to stop walking for a second because of the excited buzz in his chest that threatened to overwhelm him.

Oh yes, he thought as he visualized the necklaces around the Mer’s necks, that will be good.

He knew his smile was a little too manic looking when he faced the butler and said, “Pennyworth, I’m ready to take them out.”

[redslilstories]

If it's love

Author: lilyme (aka. redslilpictures aka me ;)) Summary: Set sometime after 16x16. Callie and Arizona receive some upsetting news. But it is their place to be upset about it? Characters: Callie/Arizona, Sofia Rating: PG Disclaimer: I do not own the characters in this story, nor do I own any rights to the television show "Grey's Anatomy". They were created by Shonda Rhimes and belong to her and the ABC network. No copyright infringement intended! All mistakes are mine.

About to enter the house, Callie was startled by her energetic daughter yanking open the front door and jumping out.

"Hi, Mama!" Sofia gifted her mother with a sideways hug, her head already on an entirely different matter, "I'm gonna feed the chicken and see, if they have any eggs for breakfast!"

"Okay," Callie smiled at the eagerness of her offspring and went inside. How anyone genetically related to her could be this perky in the morning, was a mystery to her. She herself most of the time was as cranky as a bear at this time of day.

But she knew whose notoriously good morning mood had rubbed off on the girl and soon found the perkiness personified in the kitchen of the house that kind of resembled this attitude as well. With its light colors, flowery decorations and overall pretty girly atmosphere.

It was the house Arizona had chosen to live in, and it fit her like a shoe. Including the coop full of chicken she had always dreamed of.

Callie had a mixed relationship with the fowl. The rooster of the bunch, King Louie, always tried to peck her, but only her. The chicks, Dolores, Selma and Agneta were nice enough, though. And the smallest of them, little Betty, seemed pretty fond of her and came fluttering over whenever she neared the coop. Which itself was a rare event, but if she did, she always found herself giggling at the little thing's antics.

The chicken owner smiled as she took notice of the woman's presence. "Hi! Did you get everything?" the blonde wondered, as she bustled about the kitchen.

"Uh, yeah, I did," Callie replied and held up two paper bags with freshly baked goods. "Even got some raspberry cream cheese danish". She knew they were Arizona's favorites, but not always available... because they were a lot of other people's favorite as well.

"Aww, you're so sweet," Arizona gushed, as she followed Callie into the dining room, where the brunette was arranging the assorted roll, croissants and danish on the table.

Since Arizona had relocated to New York as well, this Sunday breakfast was their weekly ritual. With their always busy schedules, caught between school, work and research, Sunday was often the only day that all three of them had off.

And they made sure to make the most of it. Callie bringing goods from the bakery, Sofia fetching eggs and Arizona preparing them a yummy breakfast they'd enjoy in all length together and talk about what was happening in their lives right now. Things Sofia was doing in school, talks about their projects at work and everything else they had on their minds.

And from the pensive look Callie wore on her face this morning, Arizona knew there was something massive on her mind right now.

"You look... kinda perturbed," Arizona tried carefully as she watched the brunette from the entrance to the room. She had known Callie long enough to notice that furrow in her brow. Even having been divorced for years she had never lost that ability to read her. Where other people maybe even saw a neutral expression, she could detect the slightest disturbance in her mood.

"Hm?" Callie looked up at the alarmed woman, smiling lightly at the blond emotion detector. Always on the lookout for the well-being of the people around her. A trait Callie had never failed to appreciate - even during their rockier phases. And now that they were on good terms again and she had Arizona as a constant presence in her life once more, she rarely hesitated to express her thoughts. "Oh, I just got a mail from Mer this morning. About things happening in Seattle and stuff".

"Huh," Arizona nodded at the explanation. They still kept in contact with their friends on the West Coast, as much as time and distance allowed.

Arizona still held pretty close bonds with April. April, who had settled in nicely with Matthew, Harriet, Ruby and their newborn son Philip and was living an uneventful and simple life.

And both of them still heard regularly from Teddy, Meredith and the others. But news from that front often more or less equaled a soap opera. A not necessarily well-written soap opera with too much what-the-heck drama and too many you've-got-to-be-kidding-me twists and turns for the worse. It would actually be funny to witness the ridiculousness of it all, if it wasn't happening in real life.

"Is something wrong?" Arizona subsequently wondered, and pushed herself off the door frame as Callie pulled out her phone, apparently willing to let her read the mail as well.

The brunette handed her phone after a few taps and Arizona began reading unusually long text, bordering on a rant she had received from Meredith.

And then she watched as Arizona read it, expecting to find the same emotions she had felt overcoming the blonde. Emotions of disbelief and a good part of anger.

After walking the length of the living room a few times while studying the text intensely, the blonde retreated to the couch, her face still surprisingly neutral. Eventually she let the phone sink into her lap and spoke softly, "Well... that's a major plot twist," her eyes still on the words written.

Callie was confused by Arizona's calmness. "Wh... That's all you're gonna say to that?" she asked as she sat next to the blonde.

"Well...," Arizona muttered, confronted with upset Callie, "as his mentor, I hope he finds a hospital that can really appreciate the outstanding doctor he's become," she spoke with a little sentiment, as she thought back on the years she had trained the man Meredith's elaborate text was about in peds.

Alex Karev had without a warning decided to leave behind Seattle and everything he had there to start a new life in the middle of nowhere. Or – as it was officially called - Kansas.

A move that in itself would be difficult to understand, since he had a promising career set in Seattle. But apparently there were reasons not in anyone else's control.

"As his friend...," she continued with a shrug, "I hope he'll find all the happiness he deserves. Though I have to say that ditching Jo via letter is so...," she shook her head, and finally Callie could see some emotion bubbling up in her, "God, I feel so awful for her. Believe me, if I had a brick right now, I'd hit him in the head from here!"

"Yeah!" Callie sighed, relieved that she herself wasn't just overreacting about all this, but that his behavior towards Jo really was a low blow.

Callie had seen him grow, witnessed the transformation from a fairly douchy intern who didn't particularly care about the women he slept with to not only a well-respected surgeon but also a man who had truly learned to invest into his relationships and cherish them.

And she knew that Arizona had witnessed it all even closer, having spent years working with him side by side on a daily basis. It had to be a letdown. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched the blonde's grip tighten around her phone as the woman's thoughts now clearly circled around this upsetting new development. Carefully she wrangled the device out of the tense fingers before it met its fate as a substitute brick.

Arizona looked at the brunette and saw the mildly warning look telling her to let her phone live and released it with a faint smile. "It's a load of crap," she summed up her thoughts about Alex and Jo. Jo, who had also become a much beloved friend to her over the years. Their wedding... or rather all the mishaps happening on the day of their wedding... were among the last active memories she had of Seattle, with her and Sofia having left later that night to come to New York. Now she thought that maybe all the hindrances that day had been a sign for them. That some Powers that Be didn't think they belonged together. And rather wanted him in someone else's arms. "But... I don't know... if Izzie makes him happy..."

Immediately Callie scoffed beside her, and Arizona pressed her lips together. She knew Izzie was a sore spot for Callie. Understandably, after all the humiliation she has had to face back at the hospital in Seattle because of her. And that didn't even only involve Izzie sleeping with George.

And then there was everything else... "The way she's treated Alex... I mean, she's left him in debt with her hospital bills and just disappeared. That's not what you do. I know how long it's taken him to get out of that and get over her. And now he's going back to the person who's hurt him more than anyone?" she shook her head before letting herself sink against the backrest of the couch. "I don't see why. Think he's just doing it for the kids?" she wondered about the twins that Izzie has apparently given birth to five years ago.

She looked expectantly at Arizona, who had turned towards her and sat with her leg bent, her head braced on her fist and her face... sporting two raised eyebrows and a pensive look.

Callie countered the expression with a soft "What...?", unsure of what it was supposed to tell her.

"You know... that a lot of that is exactly what can be said about us, right?" Arizona voiced her thoughts carefully.

"What...!?" Callie repeated, though fairly shriller now, startled at the statement her girlfriend suddenly confronted her with. "We're not... I...," she stammered as she sat up, afraid that Arizona still held a grudge against her. Even though she had reassured her that she didn't.

"Easy, sweetie...," Arizona tried to calm her with a hand to her thigh. She knew what Callie wanted to say. "I'm don't mean the fight over Sofia's custody. Though it was... really painful for all of us," she exhaled deeply, thinking back on it.

And Callie bowed her head, not able to look the blonde into the eye. Because she knew she was the main cause for all that pain, having had her lawyer throw the worst accusations at her then ex in court.

"I...," Arizona continued, "there are the things that let up to that... The way I treated you after my amputation. The way I yelled at you, threw things at you, verbally and literally... It was a low that I never thought I could reach. But then... I cheated on you. And I realized I could go even lower. And I will forever hate myself for that," her voice trembled.

Callie looked back up at the blonde, who was obviously struggling to keep her emotions in check as she remembered that time. That time she had broken her ever-so-supportive wife. And Callie remembered too. It was something that still hurt her deeply.

"That you were even willing to start new with me then... after the damage I've done... it was more than I could have hoped for," Arizona began to sob, as her tears finally overwhelmed her, and Callie cupped her hand in comfort, wanting to show her that everything was okay now.

Only to have Arizona's train of thought steer back to where it had taken off. "But I guess we weren't ready then and it consequently ended in divorce... with all its unfortunate consequences. And a lot of people would say that it all should have ended there. That we are just no good for each other".

"But who are they to judge?" Callie protested, her face a whirl of confusion and fear, still not sure where Arizona was going with this.

No one else had a saying in their being together. Yes, part of her was scarred from the betrayal. And she knew Arizona was still reeling from the custody battle too... among other things. But they had learned to cope over the years. And had even learned to heal.

And when the blonde turned her hands in Callie's to clasp them with a teary smile and replied "That's what I mean," Callie finally realized her intentions. "We've made mistakes. It's blatantly obvious, and we both know it. But... the moment Sof and I landed in New York, and I saw you standing there, smiling impossibly wide not at her, but at me... I just...I knew it had been the right decision," Arizona remembered the first time she had seen the brunette after over a year of having only communicated via texts and phone calls. "That I was coming home".

And while Callie had changed, most obviously her hair style, now cut short and shaved on the sides, she was still the same woman Arizona had fallen in love with way, way back in Seattle.

Callie smiled at this, remembering how elated she had been when Arizona had told her, Sofia would come back to New York. That she would finally be with her daughter again. And she remembered her nervousness at hearing that Arizona would accompany her. Unsure of how the blonde stood towards her. After all, Arizona was giving up her established life because Callie had fled to the East Coast to pursue a relationship that had failed after only seven months. It could be cause for resentment.

But seeing Arizona again in person and hearing how excited she was, it had calmed her. And listening to her tell her about everything she had planned for her new life and showing true interest in everything the brunette had experienced in New York so far... Callie had known it would be good.

As it turned out better than good.

While their main priority was Sofia and the girl's well-being in her old, new, old life in New York, this priority had inevitably drawn Callie and Arizona closer again. In the first two months in New York they had spent more time together than in the two years between their separation and Callie moving to New York.

First as parents, then as friends.

And at some point the friendly parents had remembered what they had once loved about the other. And still loved.

Of course there had been trepidation about starting anew. After all, they had already screwed up massively and made life impossibly hard on so many people. Especially Sofia.

But with exactly that past, they were wiser now and knew what it took to make it work. Talking to each other, listening to what the other woman was saying, and also get help from outside, if necessary.

And so far they were doing extremely well.

Arizona's heart smiled as she saw Callie relax visibly. Now that it was clear to the brunette that they weren't in any trouble. That this was the opposite of trouble.

She cupped Callie's cheek. "I still you so much. More than ever before," she reassured Callie. "You make me happier than anyone else ever could. Despite what other people might think. They aren't important. We are. We belong together. And there's really no one else I'd want to spend my life with".

"I love you too," Callie whimpered and leaned forward to engulf her love in a fierce hug, so grateful to have Arizona back in her life. Despite all the evils that had happened to them and that they had partly afflicted on each other. But Arizona was right. They belonged together, despite their past. "And I'm so happy to have you back," she continued, and received reassuring kisses to her cheek.

It was only two months ago that Callie and Arizona had moved into Arizona's dream house. And while the situation was still somewhat new, and she was still getting used to its girly charm and the pecking of King Louie, she never wanted to leave this place anymore,

Because it held her love. It held her life. Her dream.

"So... Alex and Izzie... think you can handle it?" Arizona questioned as she eventually released the brunette.

"Hm," Callie pondered, "if she makes him happy, I guess" she simply returned, Arizona's reasoning that an outsider's opinion to this couple was not that relevant still in her ear. "Plus, it's not like I have to interact with her. Kansas is far enough, luckily. Though I have to say, I'd love to meet the kids".

Arizona laughed at this. "I know! If his genes hit through, they're probably pretty..."

"... grumpy, smart-ass and foul-mouthed?" Callie offered tongue-in-cheek.

"I was gonna say, quite a handful. But... yeah, that works," Arizona giggled. "But definitely adorable".

"Mami, Mama! I got some eggs!" Sofia came rushing inside with a little basket containing four eggs. "And I fed the chicken too. But Selma and King Louie weren't hungry. I think they were playing piggyback. Or they are making a baby chicken. Which is... eww...," she exclaimed.

The women laughed wholeheartedly at their girl. Sofia knew all about the birds and the bees, the roosters and the hens or the mamas and the daddies by now. And while she was fascinated by the concept of creating life, the way to make it happen pretty much appalled her.

Which Callie and Arizona were very okay with. At her age of eight, turning nine soon, they much preferred that attitude over too much curiosity about the act itself.

Eventually that would come, and they knew that in a few years from now they would be having a more serious talk about how human babies were made. Arizona had already joked that they'd probably decide over a party of Rock, Paper, Scissors about whether her or Callie would have to have that talk with their daughter.

But they were so happy they could experience Sofia grow up and learn new things every day together.

They had been given this new chance. And they worked every day to cherish this chance, despite outside opinions.

They wanted to be their best together. And they wanted to be their best for their kid.

And that made them understand Alex' motivations. His need to be with his kids. And his need to be together with the woman he had learned to love again despite their past.

And despite ambivalent thoughts they had on it all, they wished him all the best.

END

[ivisite]

For the drabble meme, 33 with Anruin?

Anruin is petty with a capital “P” and I’m all about that.

#33. “I saw you staring at each other, I just wasn’t sure if it was sexual tension or murderous rage.”

It wasn’t often that Anruin managed to successfully read his map well enough to make it to his destination and it was even more rare for him to stumble upon something worth writing about. Besides studying half-diligently at the two colleges of Skyrim, the small Bosmer found himself enthralled with his own personal journey. He wanted nothing more than to become the greatest bard and with his Mer blood giving him a few extra years to hold over the common man, he was happy to say he had plenty of time to accomplish said feat.

Bards of old simply spoke tales they’d heard from others but Anruin was determined to do the opposite. Based strictly on rumors he picked up while coaxing about local Inns, he managed to catch wind of a new figure emerging- or two, rather. One such figure was the Last Dragonborn, a Nord woman with hair as fiery as the souls of the dragons she captured and the other was a mysterious hooded figure that few had ever actually seen, a harbinger of thieves and larceny that guards whined about in the days after the it was supposedly spotted in the area. Amused by the notion but bribed to say otherwise, Anruin knew far too much about any given person anyways but in particular he knew quite a bit about the newest soon-to-be hero of old.

“Can’t you guys get some incense? Just because it is a sewer doesn’t mean it has to smell like it- and it’s far too humid, too. Humidity isn’t good for singing..” Anruin rambled, walking about the infamous Ragged Flagon that everyone spoke ill of.

At the counter, the owner of said makeshift bar wiped down tankards with an annoyed flair. He was a surprisingly decent looking man, all considering where he set up shop and his so-called lady friend wasn’t too bad on the eyes either. Both, however, watched the Bosmer parade about with the last of their nerves ticking away. 

“Woof Elf, I’ll ask again, what do you want? Shouldn’t you be prancing around an Inn or something?” Tonilia rather pointedly asked. She was a Redguard, Anruin presumed and had a tough demeanor about her. Pretty enough but perhaps too domineering, Anruin could see why her little friend the bar keep might like her so much. Docile by contrast, the barkeep was a good balance to her more assertive nature.

“Shouldn’t you be sleeping with your actual lover instead of literally everyone else?” Anruin coolly snapped back, taking out his journal and scribbling something down.

Both the barkeep and Tonilia’s mouth fell agape. The rabble that lived in the sewers weren’t exactly posh and well-mannered but for some stranger to waltz down on his merry way to gods know where just to bother them was infuriating in both both and practice.

“Why you dirty little bast-” The Redguard woman started to say, cut short by a rather loud throat being cleared.

“Can someone please be so kind as to tell me where all my workers are? I’d really appreciate it.”

The man in question was of average height but made up for any short-comings in the area by his gruff voice and permanent look of annoyance that chiseled itself onto his face. The man haphazardly glanced between the three other people in the Flagon only to shake his head and take a seat at a table off to the side. Grumbling about needing something to drink, the man motioned his hand at the barkeep.

“And what in Oblivion do you want, elf?” He spat, looking to Anruin rather hatefully. 

“A hearty drink with warm company, of course. Why else would I have come to such a lovely establishment with such inviting patrons?” Anruin cooed back, smiling at the irritated knitting of the man’s brow.

“If you must know, though, I’m looking for Saoirse. Had a gut feeling she might be around here when not dragonborn-ing.” The wood elf said slyly. In truth, he knew all too well of Skyrim’s rising hero. She wasn’t much of one from what he could see, at least not based on the great, bulky heroes of the past and had a bit of a dark side to her that she bribed him with gold and food to not tell anyone about.

“Oh, well then, that makes two of us.” The grump of a man retorted, rolling his eyes as he drank from his tankard.

“Ah, Mercer! Delvin and Vex are out on jobs with a few of the other stagglers from the Cistern. Brynjolf and Saoirse are probably killing each other or something. Delvin sent them on another job together.“ 

From his spot behind the bar, Vekel must have seen a lot of thing and for that Anruin could respect. Barkeeps and Bards knew everything about everyone that walked by them and were dangerous in their own right. Either type could twist a rumor just a bit and have the whole hold gossiping for weeks on end.

"As long as the job gets finished first, what’s it matter afterwards.” Mercer grumbled again.

It grew quiet in the small tavern after that, an odd but welcoming atmosphere if you squinted and tried really hard to find it. Persistent, Anruin took a seat at a table that was situated on what he called the dock, for lack of better words. If she were out on a job, she would have to come back eventually and he had a million things to ask as soon as she did.

Despite popping up at a bad time during a dragon attacking a nearby settlement, Anruin and Saoirse managed to get along rather well. She wasn’t pompous or haughty like he imagined someone with her title would be and seemed to put up with his presence on most occasions. Perhaps only because he was so insistent on the friendship, the two and whomever happened to be following her around at the time were quite the gaggle to behold. 

After what seemed like hours, the Flagon was greeted to the oncoming hum of what sounded like people screeching in the ratways coming towards the entrance of the tavern. While Vekel seemed amused by it, muttering something about his end of a bet going well, Mercer groaned and rubbed his temples.

“You bloody bastard! How dae you except me to be able to read your damned mind?! Ruddy haired son-of-a bi-" 

”-Look who’s calling the kettle full, you ruddy haired wench! When Mercer heres about this, he’s going to kill me and I’m going to push you in front like a human shield!“ 

Bickering as they walked into the tavern, Saoirse and another red head that Anruin couldn’t help but give a second glance towards made their way over to the seating area. They hadn’t noticed the other patrons just yet but they made good time in grabbing their alcohols of choice and taking seats as far away from each other as possible. Saoirse found herself sitting at the bar and her accomplice sat pretty with the grump from earlier. As quickly as the storm rolled in, it seemingly settled as soon as they had a drink in hand and back to one another.

Anruin watched the two for a moment before taking a seat next to his favorite muse, nudging her playfully in hopes of striking up a conversation while the men across the way talked business in hushed voices. Others started pouring into the tavern soon afterwards, as well, filling the seats and talking loudly while chasing what was left of daylight with various meads and wine. It was oddly comforting, Anruin noted, despite the general ambience leaving something to be desired. He was a muscian and a story-teller at heart and a bustling tavern was where he belonged.

As brazen as he might have seemed, Anruin could read a room in seconds flat. Despite the rumblings of several different conversations and boisterous laughter here and there, he couldn’t help but notice a stale bit of air sitting stagnant overhead. The other red head from earlier seemed to have lightened up once a few drinks settled on his stomach, carrying on with a balding man, a hateful looking blonde and this Mercer fellow from earlier. In contrast, Saoirse was uncharacteristically quiet, even having moved down a few seats from the Bosmer after muttering about not being in the mood.

It was absolutely tantalizing. Like a moth to a flame, Anruin took out his journal again, placing it on the counter along with a quill and ink bottle much to the barkeep’s amusement. There was always something to make a song out of and if the dragonborn had some sort of edge to her, he was about to write every observation on the matter down in his notes. The song of the era would need to be detailed and Anruin was more than happy to include this odd moment of stagnant tension in the hero’s journey in the song.

Not paying mind, he managed to draw a few curious onlookers attention towards him. Another Bosmer of the more cliche archer sort took a seat nearby while a dark haired man with a nicer disposition than the others sat on the otherside of Anruin. Both were quiet as they watched the bard scribble but couldn’t help but interrupt after a while passed.

"What’re you writing, kinsman?” The other Bosmer asked, peering over Anruin’s shoulder while the darker haired male squinted to read the pages.

Anruin loved attention, so when it was given he was to engage, though kept a certain watchfulness about him so not to miss anymore note worthy things. Smiling, he put his quill down and dusted off the corner of the page he was writing on.

“It’s a song. I’m trying to write about our dragonborn over here but she’s too busy moping about to get anything noteworthy out of.” He playfully chimed, pushing the journal into better view for his onlookers.

They seemed intrigued by the notion if not amused as they both skimmed the pages. Strangers they might have been but patrons never-the-less. If they wanted to hear a story Anruin would gladly oblige. While the pair quietly muttered and read through the pages of notes, Anruin let himself study the room. Nothing really changed since his last glance around but from the corner of his eye he did manage to catch a glimpse of something worth taking a moment to ponder on.

From across the way at the table full of important looking members amongst the rabble, Anruin watched as the red headed man gazed at Saoirse when he thought no one was looking. He would let his eyes linger on her for no more than a moment before flickering them back to his own company but wouldn’t let himself go too long without looking her way again. His expression was neutral as far as Anruin could tell from his peripheral vision but the gazes were intense. He wasn’t the target, but he could almost feel the weight of it pass over his shoulders en route to the woman nestled at the edge of the bar. 

“Curious…” He thought to himself before turning his attention to Saoirse down a ways from him. She sat quietly at the edge, tinkering with a fork while her bottle of mead sat sparsely touched.

She, too, seemed to notice the weight and made quick to let her own eyes wander towards the other red head from time to time. It was another hard read but Anruin could feel the weight of her gaze passing over him just as much, if not more so than the red headed male’s. They seemed to dance around each other, glancing in perfectly timed intervals so not to catch one another and Anruin found it rather amusing. It was as though they were bickering still, taking non-verbal shots at one another before passively looking away to await the other’s response.

Picking up his quill and dipping it in ink after several moments of watching the two, Anruin raised his brows nonchalantly and let a coy smile make its way across his lips. His notes were rather bland as of late, mostly based on rumors and the odd sighting but in this instance he decided to toss a bit of grease on the fire. Fingers popped and legs crossed just so, Anruin cleared his throat and caught the attention of the tavern. Pleased with spotlight, he chuckled and looked between the red heads on either side of the room. 

“I saw you two staring at each other, I just wasn’t sure if it was sexual tension or murderous rage. Care to elaborate or should I just write down that it’s both? That would make for a good line in my song….” He cooed.

Horror struck the faces of both people that had been singled out and every pair of eyes in the tavern began to waver between the two. Anruin, however, couldn’t help but chortle at his feat as he dipped his quill in the nearby ink well. With both red heads at a loss for words by the sudden call out, Anruin shook his shoulders happily and began writing.

"Oh good, it’s both then. The plot thickens and the tension rises! This is going to be the best song ever….”

Anruin is the messiest ho in all of Tamriel and I couldn’t be more proud.

[telvvyn]

On Felvos!

Worldbuilding questions taken from this post.

1. How well can your oc read and/or write? How detailed is their quest log/journal, if they keep one at all?

Felvos can read very well in dunmer and daedric. However, his handwriting is terrible and he often has a hireling write/dictate for him for letters and important documents. He keeps a journal for all of his studies and they're filled with imprints and sketches with chicken-scratch notes. They are nigh impossible to read.

2. How educated is your oc? Did their parents teach them, did they have a tutor or were they apprenticed to a master, or did they attend a university? What university? What are they educated in? How long did their education take?

Felvos was educated by spellwrights in his family's Tel, and apprenticed under his mother, the wizard of Tel Vvyn in his early life. After basics and life skills, most of his studies focused on magic, herbology, alchemy and the supernatural. He began his education at age 5 and completed his apprenticeship at age 23, continuing studies among other mages until his eventual separation from Tel Vvyn.

3. Does your oc have any kind of crafting skills that either aren’t in-game or don’t have as much importance in-game as they would in real life? (For example, can your oc sew or weave, etc? Are they skilled in any kind of art? Can they make jewelry or work glass? Are they musicians? etc)

He’s skilled with glass, light metal work & sewing.

4. What pantheon does your oc worship? 

Many housemer worship the tribunal. Felvos is curious of their power and the influence they have on dunmer society, but largely indifferent about the worship of them. Felvos is very individualist right down to his own beliefs. He holds the writings of great and powerful mages and his ancestors in higher regards than any. Which in one way, does make him particularly interested in Sotha Sil.

5. How religious is your oc? Do they come into conflict with others over their beliefs? If their patron deity told them to do something extremely undesirable or against their moral compass, would they do it? Would your oc sell someone’s soul for a corn chip?

Felvos is only religious enough to take ancestral worship seriously, otherwise, he has a very agnostic/apathetic view. He’s careful about his words and chooses his battles when it comes to speaking in the company of those devout or critical of the tribunal- a lesson learned from his family that secularism is better than conflict- and best to not give any religious organization reason to nose around Telvanni business. The only one in charge of Felvos is himself and he firmly believes so. But he is not arrogant enough to make enemies of the tribunal temple. Power fascinates him and he’d much rather act ignorant and entertain his curiosities than cause a disturbance.

To answer the second question, Felvos would remain skeptical unless Sotha sil someone of great power graced him with their presence to tell him to do something undesirable. Then and only then, he’d do it.

6. Does your oc have a family of origin? How many members of their FoO are still living? Do they have a good relationship? How much contact does your oc have with their FoO? 

His aunt, uncle, cousin first removed and daughter from his immediate FoO still live. At one time, their relationship may have been closer, but currently it is strained and separated by Mage Lord Balvus Droreloth’s takeover of Tel Vvyn, which occurred with the death of Felvos’s mother, father, and wife at the time. Felvos married out of necessity, and though their relationship was amicable, they had no strong feelings for one another. His daughter was by far the most precious to him. Felvos wanted to leave with her, but protocol forbade it. He left her in the care of his aunt and uncle reluctantly. They have seldom spoken since that day.

7.What social class was your oc born into? Did they change classes at all? How?

Noble in the Great House Telvanni. Felvos is technically still noble by blood, but he has been absent from his role in Tel Vvyn for almost twenty years and lives an unassuming lifestyle.

8. How politically active is your oc? Are they obviously influential, or is their influence more subtle?

He’s less politically active than he probably should be. But Felvos has very little patience for politics and too many people in general. He stays out of matters that don’t directly pertain to him or get in the way of his work. 

10. How trustworthy is your oc? Would they ever change opposing factions?

Felvos is trustworthy to people he likes. If he doesn’t like you, you have reason to be wary. He remains loyal to House Telvanni for his family’s sake but like the true individualist he is, he does not always play by certain rules. 

11. What is your oc’s main source of income, if they have one besides plundering tombs and adventuring? If they’re mercenaries, are they part of a company? Does your oc own their own business, and if so, what is it?

He runs an apothecary for the odd out of his home in Ald Velothi.  It is quietly rumored that he offers medicinal & wellness services to those with supernatural diseases, shady pasts and otherwise outcasts of society that cannot obtain elsewhere. His knowledge in the medicinal geology of Vvardenfell is often sought after, particularly when illnesses sweep through villages and has often interacted with Ashlanders who were willing.

12. Is your oc good with finances? Bartering? How long can they keep the money they make? 

Felvos is conservative with his money when he needs to be, and invests his coin into paying people who work for him fairly. He makes quite a bit of money, but his work also involves some risky business.

13. Does your oc have any particular rivalry or mutual dislike with any NPC?

I mean... he judges anyone from the mages guild pretty harshly. He’s especially offended by any Telvanni helping the mages guild. How dare they give away ancient knowledge for free! To THOSE people!

14. How well-liked is your oc? What is their reputation, if they’re well-known? Are they simply liked/disliked, or are they respected but feared, or personally liked but not taken seriously, etc? 

His reputation varies between groups. House Telvanni recognizes him as the son of a wizard, and the council has held their breath on what Felvos’s next action might be. Most are aware that there is an obvious grievance between him and Balvus Droreloth. Some would even like to see Tel Vvyn change seats and are disappointed that Felvos instead chose to leave.

Several assassination attempts have been made on Felvos since his departure, all of which have been traced back to Droreloth. It is obvious which sect of House Telvanni despises him and thinks him weak. But every failure is a testament to Felvos’s cunning and the dangerous company he keeps.

Those outside of his house have mixed perceptions. Some see another hermit mer with odd interests. Some are wise to the company he keeps and respects his boundaries. They know the folly in crossing someone with Morag Tong blades following his every shadow. 

15. Does your oc have a horse/other mount? A pet? How did they get this animal? If they were given the animal, do they have the money to maintain it? 

Felvos inherited his mother’s flame atronach senche. It is conjured with the help of an heirloom relic- a firestone staff passed down in the family, and can be summoned near an active foyada of the Red Mountain. 

He also raises a flock of Bantam guar on his property.

16. How careful/careless are they with their animal? What do they do with their pets while adventuring, especially on dangerous quests?

Bantam Guar are absolutely useless for adventuring. But Felvos will open his window and enjoy their soft chirping while he reads. With the atronach, he has to be mindful that while it won’t burn him, it may burn others. And also... to stay off the grass.

17. Does your oc take their time as they travel, or are they purposeful? How do they survive in the wilds, especially if they aren’t hunter-types? How dependent is your oc on civilized society?

He takes his time traveling, often taking the scenic route. His favorite way to travel in Vvardenfell is the giant silt striders. He is slightly dependent on civilized society and will get moody if he’s been too far away from a bathtub for too long. But knows how to navigate well and is very good at laying low to avoid dangerous encounters.

18. What does your oc like to eat? How much food do they eat? Can your oc cook, and can they do it well?

Some of his favorites are kwama egg, spiced mudcrab, artisan bread and pumpkin recipes. He has a sweet tooth as well. Felvos is particularly good at making broths and soups, though he’s not much of a baker. He’s guilty of nervous eating, though he eats pretty normally for a mer of his stature. That is until a certain nord visits and feeds him almost too well.

20. What does your oc wear in the city/settlements? In the house? When travelling, but not adventuring or expecting combat? Do they vary their clothes depending on what hold/city they’re in?  Does your oc have a good or bad sense of fashion? How many clothes does your oc have?

Silks, linens, and protective carapace plates about his middle and flanks in city and settlements, with neat scarves wrapped around his neck and shoulders. A cozy tunic and baggy trousers for around the house. He prefers open toed shoes when he can get away with it. He thinks he has a good sense of dunmer fashion, but he is very simple and elegant with his look. When he’s traveled to a colder climate, he trades silks for imported furs- about the only useful aspect of the Ebonhart Pact to him.

23. Can your oc swim, and how well? Have they ever swam in the ocean, or only lakes/rivers? 

He can swim pretty well in a lake or a calm river. He enjoys wading and collecting shells along the beach, but won't swim in the ocean.

24. How easy/difficult is it to rob your oc? Pickpocket? Bribe?

Bribe? Easy if it involves something very worthwhile and powerful to him. Rob? Difficult. His oathmen are both lycanthropes with really good noses and one is an assassin. 

25. If your oc is part of one of the more morally questionable or outright evil factions, how do they justify it to themselves? Do they still consider themselves as morally good? How well known is their affiliation to these groups? Do they have separate personas? Do their family/friends know? If they have separate personas, how do they keep their less than righteous activities secret?

Felvos is not aligned with an evil faction per say, but he does walk a morally questionable ground by caring and keeping the company of people who do. He justifies it partially by befriending ‘powerful’ people, it in turn, makes him a harder target for his enemies. He’s also genuinely curious about diseases of the supernatural, going beyond what any of his people would think to do to research these conditions. It is a fair and meaningful trade to him- for those he helps to help him in a pinch. 

Felvos does not out the people he helps in mixed company, nor does he go into details of his work with just anyone. The less people know of him, the better. Perhaps he’s taken a page of inspiration from the father of mysteries.

26. How helpful is your oc, and why? Are they helpful or kind even during difficult situations? Are they pragmatic, or do they have a hero syndrome?

Felvos is only helpful if:

1.] Being helpful is a return on investment for him.

2.] Being helpful brings him closer to his goals.

[merlesbians]

merdred D/s filth and crack

disclaimer: i’m not a writer but the one that collaborated with me is.

this one is about this fanfic series

Most of Mordred's searches on porn websites are orgasm denial. Merlin thinks it's cute. -

"Milk or sugar?" "Both." "That a thing now?" "I LIKE MY MAN LIKE MY TEA. FULL OF MILK" "MORDRED NO... I like mine sweet and not too strong." "Yea." - Merlin texts Arthur when Mordred leaves. 'You think I look kinky?' 'Only when you're stressed and biting your lips' 'I do this all the time' 'Really?' 'Oh.' -

Mordred was obviously a first timer because he had no idea how to say no to people he wasn't interested (after all being a sub doesn't mean being held by the first dom that claims him). Merlin saw him all unconfortable with some guy, then approached them "excuse me but this boy is mine, aren't you?" to which Mordred thought THANK YOU MY LORD AND SAVIOR but just answered "Yes Sir. Sorry Sir". Arthur was at the club too, but he was probably too far gone with a femdom and public whipping. Merlin asked if that was ok because he noticed Mordred wasn't comfortable with the guy and Mordred just said that all he needed that moment was to be taken care of.

Mordred noticed Merlin's lips and cheekbones because "THIS LIGHTNING FLATTERS YOUR ANGLES, SIR" "My room is pretty clear and I want to see you whole and properly, boy"

"You a top or a bottom?" "I'm what you want me to be" "Fuck, boy. Can I make you come twice tonight?" "You don't need permission. Sir. And if I try hard we can make it three." "I like you"

Merlin makes Mordred finger and blow him to avoid him touching himself. Then he blows Mordred until the adge, then rides him (and he comes again and just says 'now you broke me' and sleep again). And Merlin makes him tea and biscuits.

Mordred tells his age QAF-like.

After the first night/dat/afternoon WHATEVER  Mordred is getting ready to leave but the mess in the room is absurd and he can't find his underwear. Merlin finds it while cleaning the room and it smells like strawberry (lube, maybe? Did he go ready to bottom to the club?) and Merlin dies a little. -

Merlin always gets paranoid about consent when they drink, but one time they end up having the most vanilla sex to ever vanilla. (Except the biting, Merlin can't help himself) (And hair pulling because PLEASE) Later he discovered that Mordred held his own breath because he can't vanilla (he actually can and it's quite lovely how long it takes for him to come).

- Merlin wants to buy something for Mordred. Morgana tells him to buy leather. He does. A jacket. And a choker. - When Merlin's friend Will meets Mordred, he says "I wonder how this one behaves in bed" because the boy is always ready to explode. Merlin laughs. "He's quite obedient, actually." - Mordred has a lovehate relationship with morning sex because he fucking loves the way Merlin takes care of his mmorning erections, but he has trouble focusing on classes in the morning. - Whenever someone makes a joke to Mordred about him and Merlin, he agrees and grins. "I even call him daddy." - Merlin got in bed too late and too tired because of work things, and Mordred was fast asleep already. When Mordred woke uo, got the sight of Merlin and couldn't wake him up, so he decided to wank in bed watching him. He was halfway through it when Merlin sleepy spooned hims and Mordred and he was all like of fuck and came between their bellies. - "Mordred, the sheets. I can't do laundry every day." "I'm s-" "I'd love to clean you up if you make a mess of yourself." "Mer-" "I can clean myself up too." - Mordred every now and then suggests shower sex. Merlin avoids it because, in some way, it seem s a too intimate thing he'sw not ready to. When they become closer and start thinking about moving together aqnd sheit, Merlin doesn't quite asks it to Mordred, just throws a waterproof lube. (It's also the first time they go bareback) - "I got a cockring to deal with your 17yearoldness." (Mordred didn't dare to make the joke about having a dildo to deal with Merlin's 30yroldness. He would suffer enough already.) - "Where were you?" "Dining with Uth--" "ASDFGHJKL TELL ME MORE" "-er and Arthur." "And were you boys all serious talking about business using your reading glasses?" "Will you ever stop" "Nope" That night: "I'm leaving my tie. And the glasses. You leave the hair pins, boy." Merlin managed to put the pins on Mordred's nipples. He was a begging mess that night. (More than the usual). - Once, Merlin invited Mordred for a Star Wars marathon - but his real intention was to get the D. Mordred was way too excited by the movies to even think about sex. By the end of Return of the Jedi, Merlin was already boiling in arousal and when Mordred said "this is just too exciting!" while Leia's escape, Merlin just screamed FUCK THIS SHIT THEN and procedeed to blow Mordred while getting himself off. Mordred's eyes never left the screen - but his grip on Merlin's hair was saying he was enjoying it thank you very fucking much.

Mordred returned the favor while showing Pacific Rim to Merlin. - Mordred likes the idea of having sex in front of Arthur because Arthur is the only other that has Merlin's heart and still, Arthur would never have Merlin the way he does. - One time Merlin finds Mordred crying at home. Turns out he had had a fucked up dream. Merlin kisses his whole body until he falls asleep again. - Merlin wants a dog. Mordred wants a cat. They get two fishes, called Puppy and Kitten. (Puppy stays at Mordred's and Kitten at Merlin's - until they move together - because they remind them of each other.) - Mordred starts calling Merlin "Emrys" when he wants to show respect. - When Mordred moves in and Merlin has work trips, Mordred sleeps wearing Merlin's clothes. Before he moves in, Merlin notice the clothes he thought he'd lost getting back to his wardrobe. Mordred swears he has 0% guilt on it. "I think the cleaning lady is stealing my clothes" "Hm" "But she's been working for the Pendragons for years, I don't know..." "They must be dirty" AT UNI: "WOA MORDY U LOOK GREAT IN FANCY SHIRTS" Mordred once got off in a Merlin shirt and brought it back without cleaning. - Arthur called Merlin late one night, and while babbling, Merlin was sure Arthur was getting of with his voice - but he never asked if it was truth fearing the answer would be no.

Mordred actually calls Merlin quite often to phonesex. Mostly while he's at Uni, and the classes are too boring. Those little escapades are the highlights of the week - until they're actually together. (Mordred also records himself getting off if he can't talk with Merlin, then sends the audio file to him) - At first, Mordred couldn't swallow so he would take off his mouth. Two times Merlin came on his hair, but he always washed it later. - Very often Merlin would arrive home stressed and tired, but if he could see that Mordred wanted something, he'd get the boy off. - Merlin showed Mordred how to deepthroat with practical demonstration. "Come on, give me your wrists. Yeah, good boy. Gonna show you something now." - Merlin likes to ride his boy because it's the best way to have him undone. One time Mordred drifts off so bad, Merlin thinks it had something to do with the breathplay. - Merlin wants to submit quite often, just to change up things a bit - but he can't refuse Mordred anything (and every single time what Mordred wants is to be taken to the edge) - Phonecall: “yes mordred please come but you‘ll have to put up with drunk Arthur again. Yes. Its football, what can I do?“

“MORDRED IS COMING?“

“Yes.“

“NICE. Mordred is fun.“

“He sure is.“

“That why you‘re not d drinking?“

“Kinda.“

“BUT WE ALL SHOULD DRINK YOU CANT LET ME DRINK ALONE“

“You promise not to creep on us?“

“Mãrlin, please.“

“so you can really take all of merlin‘s cock?“ “I have dreams about merlin and your father.“

“Oh, me too. Someday they might kill each other.“

“... kinky dreams“

“why are you telling me this, christ mordred“

“Dunno, they‘re both hot, thought you‘d agree“

“MY FATHER, MORDRED“

“sorry. Merlin would fuck the bitterness out of him, tho.“

“he would, wouldnt he?“ *frustrated noises because merlin* (Kidding, merlin/uther is not happening)

Merlin, while fingerfucking a tied up mordred and about to suck him off: “Go on with your poetry, then. You manage to finish it, I fuck you. Bare. If you stop, I stop. If you say anything more than the poem, you‘ll be tied all night and I‘ll just have a wank by myself."

That night, before they collapse in a very deep sleep, Merlin kisses him and tells him how good he is. With a lower tone, he says “love your voice“ by Mordreds ear, then kisses his neck, “love you“. He didnt know if Mordred could hear it, but then the boy started holding him harder and he couldn‘t tell if Mordred was going to collapse or just smile. ----

Mordred keeps asking what they‘re doing when he graduates. Merlin cant think of something special that they haven‘t done yet “MY SEXTAPE“

“mordred stop“

“PRETTY PLEASE“

“what if you lose it, what if your computer is stolen, what if, I dont know, my mother finds it“

“I‘ll cook you dinner for a week. A month. Wearing panties.“

“Deal.“

Said month:

(Merlin and arthur entering) “You said Mordred would make dinner? gonna say hi-“ “DONT“

Too late. Arthur caught Mordred making orange juice, sweating and wearing light blue panties. hih ----

Merlin starts a system to make Mordred study.

- "You finish this paper before 9, I let you bite me." - "If you don't miss any classes by the end of the month, I will wear heels." - “You make valedictorian, I wake you up with you already inside me.“

- “You pass, we fuck in lingerie for one week.“

Nobody understands how frustrated Mordred gets if he doesnt do well at uni.

“Mordred y u sulking u probably gonna work with Pendragon as soon as possible your grades are great“

“BUT NOT HOW GREAT I NEED THEM“

------

Merlin had to travel because of job stuff, and he doesn't see Mordred in two weeks. In the meantime, Mordred left his beard grow just because he didn't care about shaving, and by the end of the time away he goes meet with Merlin at the airport. 'Holy shit, Mordred.' 'Hey! Missed me?' 'If I knew you'd look so hot with facial hair I'd order you so much earlier to keep it' 'So you like the too-lazy-to-shave look on me?' 'Enough to be thinking about letting you welcome me with a bathroom blowjob right here' 'I thought you weren't into public display' 'We can lock the door. Come on.'

[tintinxtintin]

perfect harmony (jackson avery) 4. one step too far

Penelope

By the time we left Joe's, it was two in the morning. I was extremely tired so Jackson called the three of us a cab. His mother was dropped off at her hotel and then he and I went back to my room at Mer's. After lots of laughter and stumbling around, we finally made it to the bed and fell asleep.

I woke up first. I had a slight headache and my arms felt a little weak. I wriggled out of Jackson's grasp and went to the bathroom. I did my business and went back to the room to find Jackson awake. His eyes were still closed but I knew he was up from the tiny smile on his face. He was laying on his back with his hands behind his head.

I immediately focused on his bare chest, the way it looked glowing in the sunlight. He was truly beautiful. A shiver ran through my body when I looked at him, and I realized I was only in my bra and panties. Jackson still had his boxers on so I knew we hadn't done anything. I looked around the floor and saw his shirt laying near the edge of the bed. I picked it up and put on, feeling instantly warmer.

Jackson opened his eyes, and for a minute, we just stared at each other. He was smiling at me and I at him.

"What?" I asked, placing a hand on my hip. He shook his head.

"Nothing. I just love the way you look wearing my shirt. I'll never get tired of it."

I rolled my eyes at his cheesiness. He stood up from the bed and engulfed me in a hug. His arms wrapped themselves around my lower back and mine around his neck. He mumbled something in the crook of my neck and his warm breath sent another shiver through me. He pulled away, grabbing my hands in his and looking me in the eyes.

He looked nervous, like he didn't know what to say. His eyebrows scrunched together and his nose slightly flared. His mouth opened and then closed again, but I just waited for him to say whatever he needed to say. After a few seconds, he finally spoke.

"Be mine, Penelope Coleman. And let me be yours." I felt my lips turn up into a grin.

"Of course, Jackson Avery. I'm yours." We both leaned in, our lips crashing together. His hands moved to my hips and pulled me closer.

The sound of our pagers startled us apart, and reluctantly we checked them. A truck had crashed into a tourist bus and somehow exploded, meaning they needed all hands on deck. I groaned in annoyance but headed towards the bathroom to shower anyway.

~

Jackson and I arrived at the hospital and already we could see all the chaos. There were people being pushed on gurneys and wheelchairs, doctors running around yelling orders to each other, nurses furiously typing or flipping through charts, older patients being moved to make room for new ones. It looked like a disaster, and it was. I wondered how the hell this happened.

After speaking with Cristina for a minute or two, I learned that Jackson's mom would be performing a bladder surgery. I wanted to be on that case so bad but there was enough going on already. Cristina was a little on edge. She told me she suspects Owen of cheating on her. She didn't have any actual evidence though so I told her to just let the chips fall where they may.

I got put on Bailey's service so I left Jackson to go find her. I saw Catherine leaving a room with a pretty woman following behind her, looking slightly nervous. I knew why. Catherine Avery was an intense woman. She saw me and smiled.

"Penelope. dear. How wonderful to see you. This is my fellow, Dr. Mara Keaton. She's studying under me currently. Dr. Keaton, this is my son's girlfriend, Dr. Penelope Coleman." Catherine introduced us and I gave her a polite smile and shook her hand.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Dr. Keaton and wonderful to see you as well Catherine but I must find Dr. Bailey. I'm on her service today."

"No worries. She's just in there. She was showing me something for our bladder surgery today. My eyes widened. I didn't know Dr. Bailey was on that case.

"Penny, do you happen to know where Jackson is?" She asked.

"Yes, we just got here actually so he's down in the ER." She thanked me.

I nodded to Catherine and made my way into the room.

~

I wasn't doing anything in particular at the moment. The surgery wasn't starting for another half hour so I figured I go grab a snack and maybe see Lexie. I felt like I hadn't seen her in forever and I missed her. She was one of my best friends after all.

I made my way down to the cafeteria but stopped when I heard my boyfriend's voice around the corner. He was heading towards an OR, but it sounded like he was showing someone around. I peeked and saw him opening the door for Dr. Keaton. She rushed inside like she had never seen one. I knew Meredith and Derek were doing a surgery in there so I guess that had her intrigued. He followed her in and they sat down.

I wasn't usually one to eavesdrop, but when a very attractive woman is practically alone with your very attractive boyfriend and she asks him if he's dating anyone, I dare you not to listen in. Especially when you know that that very attractive woman knows damn well that he's dating you.

He deflected the question, opting to ask her about her medical school experience instead. She answered, but then posed her question again. Jackson sighed, seeing that she would probably keep asking.

"Yes, I have a girlfriend. Her name is Penelope and she's also a doctor in this hospital."

A cheshire cat grin grew on my face. Jackson claimed me even though he was alone! I mean, I definitely trusted him. I just was a little worried. Dr. Keaton wasn't finished apparently.

"Oh. Have the two of you had sex?" I let out an inaudible gasp and covered my mouth. Why the hell was she asking him that?

"I really don't see why that's any of your business." He responds.

"Maybe it's not. But judging by your answer I think I'd be correct to assume that you haven't. Hard to believe that someone isn't satisfying you the way a handsome man like you deserves."

Okay that's it. I straightened out my lab coat and walked in, surprising both of them. Jackson's eyes were wide and Dr. Keaton looked like a deer caught in the headlights.

"Hey babe. I was just on my way to the cafeteria and thought you might want to join me?" I made my voice sickeningly sweet and wrapped my arms around Jackson's neck, leaning in to kiss him deeply right in front of her.

I didn't need to tell her that I had heard her trying to flirt with him. She knew by the way held onto him and from the sarcastic smile plastered on my face. She cowered from my gaze on her, and I grabbed Jackson's hand, pulling him from the room.

this chapter was loosely based off of grey's anatomy season 8 episode 17

a/n: most of the dialogue and characters in this story belong to shonda rhimes, and everybody included in the production of grey's anatomy. i do not claim to own either; i only own my oc, penelope coleman. this story is meant to entertain, not take credit.

[ellebeebee]

A character study of Victoire, Sabine’s foster sister/lady’s maid.

1749 words, no paring, general rating

Once, Chrétien, the second child and the oldest son, asked her where she came from.

“I am a fae,” Victoire had said. “Sent out from the other realms as punishment.”

“Did you do something bad?”

“Yes, very.  I was too inquisitive.  You see, Her Majesty, the Fae Queen, has a little room she locks from the rest of us with a little golden key.  Beneath the door is a crack from which such strange shadows slipped.  I could never get a hold of the key, so instead one day I peeked into that crack.  I was caught and cast out.”

“What was in the room?”

“Perhaps I will tell you when you are older.”

“Ugh, you’re just like Mama and Papa.”

“And you are just like the silly little gnomes of the other realms.  Foolish and impatient.”

“Is Madame Jean a fae?  She is very strange.”

“No, she’s a witch.  I don’t think there is anyone like me here.  I think I shall always be alone.”

“You’re with us though.  Won’t you be like us?”

Victoire had sent Chrétien out to play.  No, she would never really be like this family.  She stuck out like sudden snow on spring soil, among their brown and tawny faces.  Two foolish parents with more blood than sense, and eight children riding a thin edge between little aristocrats and wildlings.  Victoire was not one of them, but so what?  What was one more amongst their brood?  Especially when she could cook and clean and play a pretty tune on the pianoforte.

Inevitably, she became Sabine’s companion by way of the closeness in their ages and the girl’s own persistent sociability.  Sometimes the other girl had moods of sullenness and vanity, but she did have much to resent in her situation and too few opportunities to merely be herself without the responsibility of irresponsible parents.  Victoire weathered it all coolly; the excessive bad temper along with the sweetness desperately struggling to survive in such hostile conditions.

Of course, it was not always so bad.  There were periods of better situation, and it is curious to note that as wealth became more plentiful in the house, Victoire’s own position as companion or foster sister became demoted to lady’s maid.

It mattered little.

It was all the same to Victoire, as long as she had warm feet, a square meal, and a quiet corner in which to read and recover from the day.  She did not desire further relationships, but did not begrudge Sabine’s desire for her company.  She did not harbor ambition, but did not mind assisting with Sabine’s deep-rooted dissatisfaction.

Victoire had no great designs on being a grand lady’s maid, but neither did it repel her.

Yet when they entered Namaire’s house, and certain entrenched women in the staff began vying for a spot on the baroness’s personal staff, her reaction surprised her.  Victoire dug in her heels and rebuffed those that could not be trusted.

“It’s not as if you have any say in it,” a particularly brazen of these had said to her face. “After all, I heard you were just some foundling-- a little orphan that wandered into that decrepit old house of theirs.”

“Well, you were misinformed,” Victoire had said. “I am a ghost made flesh.  I had haunted that house for centuries, in such pain and distress that I had long since forgot my original humanity.  Then I heard a pretty little song sung by those children.  My feelings were so moved, I became corporeal again, so that I could protect them.  But I do still feel dark currents of the dead.  Everywhere.  Especially in this house.”

“W-well, I never!”

When the baron died, Victoire had ordered all the red silk, helped Sabine through her tears, and given the widow all the names that should be expunged from the household.  The days were much more orderly, afterward, and Victoire was pleased to be able to read a great deal more. Not that there weren’t things to be done; no, there were the parties, and the scheming, and all the new business and political speculations.  Not to mention to mention the romantic misadventures.

Victoire sometimes supposed she should attempt to get more from life.  Being good at being a lady’s maid or the staff supervisor was one thing.  But a family or a lover or anything of that nature did not interest her.  People, on the whole, did little to interest her.

So she did not think much on her own feelings when Sabine departed for the Summit.

“What will you do, Victoire?”

“Perhaps I will fly back to my homeland on the moon where there is perpetual twilight.  Or visit my mer cousins deep beneath the blue waves.”

“Oh haha, very funny.  This may be the last time we see each other.  I will write, of course, to tell you if I make any decisions, but…  I want you to know that you are free to choose another life.”

“You say that quite a lot.”

“Well, I mean it.  You do puzzle me, dear.  I can never tell if you are happy with me or not.  And I have known you too long to be insensitive to your well-being.”

“The barony still needs looking after.  That steward can’t handle everything.  I am quite content with that.”

“Very well.  Do write.  And not just about the barony.  About yourself, and if you change your mind.”

“Good-bye, Sabine.”

As was her habit, the baroness parted tearfully.

And Victoire spent some weeks walking the quiet halls of the Namaire estate, only half-remembering the peals of laughter and the clink of champagne flutes and the music of the absent guests and their entertainments.  Everyone walked on timid feet, especially around Victoire.  If the baroness married again, and moved away, then much of the staff would be let go.  And Victoire would be making many of those decisions.

It was nice to be respected, but it was better to be left in peace.

-

My darling Victoire,

I have been quite foolish, my dear.  I have somehow misplaced my senses entirely these past few weeks, and allowed myself to be swept up in the empty flatteries of a paramour.  I am to be wed.  To His Highness, Prince Zarad of Corval.

What can I say?  He is a fool, I am a fool, and we shall be terrible little fools together.

I know you don’t care for these sort of details, but I am helpless in the face of my own silliness-- I must confess that he is dreadfully glib and overtly charming and with such an ego!  And before you say that sounds familiar, I shall inform you that I am always sincere, and never do I participate in his sort of chicanery. 

But I am so fond of him.

I am sure I am losing your attention at this point, so I will get straight to it.  I would like to know what you want to do.  You are free to stay at Namaire, but if you wish for a different position, in Revaire or wherever your heart should fancy, merely say the word and I will manage it.  If you wish for an alliance, I may have some ideas that could put you in a very nice station in life.

If, and I will confess this is the option I selfishly prefer-- if you wish to follow me to Corval, I will exert my utmost influence to allow it.  I think Corval will suit you, and I mean that in the most complimentary way.

Perhaps not the heat, though.  You do burn so easily.  We shall buy hats.

Write to me soon, as there are only a few weeks left.

Your loving Sabine

-

The next day, Victoire pinned a list of names to the board in the servants’ quarters where unpleasant announcements were attached.

She spent the morning in a rotation of brief meetings with certain staff members.  Several generous parcels of coins sat in her desk drawer, and as one maid or under-butler came in, they left with their severance pay, instructions on when and how they should exit the Namaire estate and whether they would be getting a recommendation.  Also, tears.  They often left with tears.

Victore finally pushed her door open to stare down the line of servants sitting in a row of chairs against the wall.

“I have had quite enough of the crying,” Victoire stated coolly. “It is unprofessional and is quickly dissolving any desire I have to impart pay and recommendation letters.  I suggest leaving this moment if you plan on shedding tears in my office.”

The door clicked decisively behind her, shutting out the wide eyes and trembling lips.

Really.  Trembling lips!

It was easier when Sabine was here.  It was easier for Sabine.  She could be the sweet and sympathetic one.  Victoire was the authority, the hammer.  She didn’t mind.

It suited her.

Suitably threatened, the last of the fired maids and manservants passed in and out of her office with dry cheeks.  Afternoon bent back high in the yellow sky before Victoire was finally left alone with her thoughts.  Her office: cozy at about six paces in any direction, with a little worn desk, a velvet tufted chair on her side, and a plain wooden seat on the other.  Neatly organized staff records in her desk drawers, a brand new blotter on the surface, and an elegant mother-of-pearl fountain pen.  A gift.

Victoire pulled open her top drawer.  She was half-startled by the palor of her own slim hand on the mahogany woodwork.  She took out Sabine’s letter.  Outside her half-open window, the stablemasters were discussing the plans for selling the estate’s horses.  Not all of them could go; Precious, Marble Oracle, and Tantivy were all great sources of income as proven studs, and of course the work horses for the estate’s skeleton crew would stay.  But the others would be sold.

Victoire looked back down at the letter.

“Perhaps I will transform back into a fine mare; dun-colored and white-maned with violets in my tail.  I will run and run and leave nothing behind.  I will be flotsam and jetsam on a cold summer breeze.”

There was no reply.

Victoire sighed.  She pulled blank stationery out, and plucked the mother-of-pearl fountain pen from its stand.  She would write to Sabine, and admit a preference for headscarves over hats for the Corvali sun.

After all, she would perhaps miss the girl.  Perhaps.

[inkymerdevil-blog]

About

Name: Bendy

Age: 5-18

Gender: Intersex Male

Height: 2′9″

Weight: 20 lbs

Appearance:

Personality:

Bendy is a rather timid and shy mer toon, preferring to hide in his mother’s shadow then socialize with others. When he is truly himself he likes to pull pranks and jokes on others, but only when he feels that they’ll laugh with him after the prank occurs. For a while, Bendy wasn’t properly socialized due to his lonely upbringing. After his adventure on the surface however, he was given the proper socialization that he needed. Bendy is very friendly and often stops to help children in trouble. he hates to see anyone cry, especially children. 

History:

It is unsure how exactly Bendy came to be. Some say that he was merely created by his mother using her dark magic abilities, while others say that he is her actual blood child. No one really knows for sure, and no toon has lived to see the light of day if they ask. 

Ursula is Bendy’s mother. She is a rather pretty looking mer toon for her age. She had Bendy very late in her life, when she thought that her egg laying days were over. Ursula is the exiled sister of the reigning king of the mer toons, Poseidon. Banished from the capital for trying to take the throne for herself, she made her home in an abandoned cave far enough away that Poseidon wouldn’t come after her. She tried to take the throne using dark magic, a forbidden form of magic highly frowned upon in the undersea world.

Her dreams of reclaiming the throne from Poseidon were not crushed by her banishment, and some claim she had steady dealings with the world above. Particularly an area known as Inkwell Isle was a place she frequently visited. Taking a land-based form and a new identity thanks to her dark powers, she set out to find some assistance in her quest. 

Boy did she find help. 

The devil of the highly acclaimed casino himself offered to lend her a hand in exchange for dealings in the society below the waves. However things became more than just a business relationship over the span of many years. Ursula and the Devil got to know each other quite well. Ursula however was never sure if she truly loved the Devil or if she was incapable of feeling any kind of love at all for anyone. The former sea mistress had built up her abilities with the Devil’s help on land, but knew she had to return to the sea eventually. With the fondest of goodbyes to the Devil and his lackeys, she returned to the sea to begin the first step in her plan.

But something got in the way of her plans. 

Ursula quickly found out that she was pregnant a few months into her planning. Maybe that drunken night with the Devil wasn’t just a dream after all... She would have to work with this in order for things to go as smoothly as possible. This may also work well for her anyways. Having a child and pretending to be reformed may let her gain favor with her brother, who was always on the lookout to keep her away.

Ursula laid one egg deep within the caverns of her home, patiently waiting for the day when her new baby would be born into this world. Any potential intruders were either killed, eaten or scared away by her protective instincts. 

Finally however, the egg hatched. Gifting the sea witch with what appeared to be a beautiful baby boy. Upon further inspection she discovered that he was also female, but since he looked more like a male then he was a male to her. Honestly the baby could be whatever gender he wanted later on, but for now Ursula needed to gender the baby for her sanity so male he was. 

This was the first time that Ursula had felt pure love for anything in her life. Not even the Devil had made her feel the way she was at this very moment. She cried for what seemed like forever while holding her baby boy in her arms.

She didn’t name him until a few days later, when he stretched his arm farther than any other toon had before to reach something sitting on a shelf. Then the name came to her. Bendy. 

Her baby boy Bendy.

For now the reclaiming her rightful throne project was on hold until Bendy could fend for himself enough to leave the cave for hours at a time. He turned out to be shy, timid and nervous around most things at first. Ursula was a good mother, coaxing him out of his shell and getting him to believe in himself. She even taught him some basic black magic in case he got into a sticky situation and needed to defend himself or attack. And as a protection charm, she made him a necklace out of valuable blue pearls. Each pearl charmed with a different spell of protection to keep him safe.

Bendy one day strayed too far from his home and ended up up being caught by a fisherman off the coast of Inkwell Isle. He had always been curious about the surface, despite his mother’s warnings about the place being harsher than the sea. The fisherman who caught Bendy sold him to a traveling circus for big money when he tried to sell the mer toon at the local market.

Bendy was heartbroken. Not only did he not listen to his mother, but he may never see her again. He sobbed and begged to be released back to the sea, but all the circus ringleader saw was dollar signs. Lots of money to be made from his new attraction, which would star in the wonders of the world exhibit.

Day after day Bendy swam around in a small tank, becoming more and more depressed as time went on. People stopped, stared and pointed at him. eyes filled with awe at the sight of a creature that was thought to never exist. 

Two young cup brothers happened to be visiting the traveling circus when they came across Bendy. Of course, like usual Bendy paid them no heed and laid around in a depressed manor. The brothers, Cuphead and Mugman got increasingly worried seeing the poor toon in such a state. Bendy was also skinny and increasingly tired. His muscles ached from lack of exercise and poor nutrition. Checking to see if anyone else was in the exhibit, the two brothers decided to get Bendy out of the horrible situation.

It took some coaxing and the promise of lots of food to get Bendy to go with them. The brothers snuck out of the circus with Bendy on their backs before  anyone could notice that he had been removed from his exhibit.

Bendy was immediately taken to Elder Kettle, who informed the brothers that Bendy was a mer toon, a toon that lived under the sea and rarely socialized with toons that lived on land. He also expressed his concern for Bendy’s health, as it was extremely poor. 

The brothers were unsure how to help Bendy at this point, but Elder Kettle had a solution. There is a marine research station on one of the isles that could help rehabilitate the mer until he could return to the wild. Cuphead and Mugman immediately took Bendy there to recover, and often visited him when they were free.

Bendy didn’t want to trust the two land dwellers at first, but they did save his life and he was feeling a lot better, so the three had long happy chats that lasted for hours when Cuphead and Mugman had nowhere else to be. Even Elder Kettle went for visits once in a blue moon.

Soon Bendy was well enough to go home. With the help of his newfound friends, he was returned to the sea. He would miss the cup brothers, but he was a toon of the sea. They were toons of the land. A friendship would be hard to maintain when the friends lived in two completely different worlds. 

Bendy immediately went home to his mother, who praised whatever deity that was watching over him. He was home safely! Many things had changed in the sea while Bendy was away. The banishment on Ursula was lifted due to the mere existence of Bendy, and she was in the process of moving back to the castle. Poseidon had told her that only when she truly loved another could she even dream about returning. 

That other was Bendy.

Soon Bendy went to his new home in the capital of Atlantis, and was crowned a prince due to his mother’s bloodline. Bendy got all sorts of attention that he really didn’t want from being a prince. He was so used to being a nobody, someone that no one cared about. And now all of a sudden he was this big deal?

Sure, he got to meet all his cousins. Who were all girls, and his mother seemed a lot happier going home... But Bendy often wondered if she had just given up on reclaiming the throne while he was away. 

He knew of her obsession to reclaim the throne from her brother from an early age, as she did a very poor job of hiding it. Why would she just give up that dream?

The answer was simple:

Bendy.

She gave up all her hopes and dreams because she realized that Bendy deserved more than what she was planning. 

Now although she had made a pact with the devil in the realm above the sea about regaining the throne, she went to shore and burned the contract while no other toon was looking. Thus freeing her from any debt owed to the devil.

For now, the undersea kingdom of Atlantis is in an era of peace with the return of Ursula. She was given a job by her brother, well two actually. A personal adviser to him, and the royal magician since she was an incredible magic user. 

Some hoped that Bendy would follow in her footsteps as the royal magician, but for now he is engrossed in royal studies with his cousins. Some things he enjoys, but others like proper etiquette and pronunciation he could care less about. He wasn’t raised to be a prince. Why should he act like one?

But the devil is slowly catching wind of Bendy’s existence on the surface...

And he wants answers.