#batfam mermaid au

[crow-aeris]

Mermay's almost upon us.... are y'all ready for my ~17.9k words of fluff and angst? 🥰

Featuring:

Bruce Wayne as King of Gotham

Dick as a Mer

Jason as a Selkie

Tim as a Siren

Damian as the Prince of Two Kingdoms

Special Appearances Include:

Clark Kent as Fellow King

Conner & Jonathan Kents

Alfred as Head Butler

and MANY many more! Tune in on May 1st for Part 1, Chapter One, of my 2024 MerMay writing challenge :3

Here is the bingo i'll be following:

by @skumhuu so check them out!

Here's Part 1 AO3:

[singswan-springswan]

tim drake but merman au

bonus:

[witherby]

i need more damian x mer!reader plssss😞😞😞 im literally OBSESSED with it

YOU'RE ALL SUCH SWEETIES!!! Ok gang, just for you 🩷

⚠️ HEADS UP: this part features conflict. There's blood, some unintentional self harm, language barriers, and general chaos! ⚠️

Human!Damian x Mer!Reader Part 4

Click to read parts 1, 2, and 3 here!

There's another rock sitting on the lip of the tank — one of the painted, water-safe ones they let you have — when Damian and Bruce arrive for dinner.

It's the weekend, meaning the aquarium is closed, and it takes a little more smacking on the surface of the water than usual for you to pop up. You shoot Bruce a disinterested glance, his presence vaguely familiar, then chirp sleepily at Damian, evidently having been awoken from a nap.

"Hey, Pr—" Damian catches himself and fakes a cough, then addresses you by your actual name. You furrow your brow, irritated, but still reach forward to take the offered bucket.

Holding it carefully in one arm, your other, webbed hand nudges the rock into Damian's lap. Damian pockets it with an easy nod, signing Thank You. Delighted, you offer him some crab after splitting the shell open with your teeth. He declines. Oh well; more for you!

Eating in front of Damian is little issue, but having Bruce stare at you so intently makes you turn away, hugging the food to your chest and rumbling quietly. Conversation floats in the air behind you.

" — might already be bonded. How often...swim together?"

"At least twice a....insisted it wasn't harming...wouldn't if I realized...promise."

Hmm. Your mate-to-be sounds upset. You dislike that greatly. You spit a half-chewed carp back into the bucket.

"Damian, I know...not mad at you for...unprecedented, you understand that, right? This...to a wild animal...vastly unintelligent..."

You growled and spun back around, tail swishing around fast enough to make the surface of the tank slightly choppy. Unintelligent?! Who was unintelligent? You learned every stupid spin, squeak, and trick you'd been taught! And your Damian was the brightest, kindest, most special caretaker in this whole place!

Bruce looks at you in confusion. Damian looks at you with awe, because he knows you're smart enough to pick up on the gist of most things, like the conversation they're having with each other. English is not your mother tongue, but you are learning, slowly and steadily. Because you are not unintelligent!

You bare your teeth, snapping them twice at Bruce, and firmly push the half-empty bucket over the lip of the tank. It clatters to the floor, the metal twang echoing around the room loud enough to make your head-fins flatten. Both land creatures jump back to avoid getting fish guts all over their legs (a word you learned recently, because you're very smart!), but Damian comes back to the edge of the tank to soothe you quickly.

"Easy, Princess," he mutters, the nickname slipping out this time. You preen and rest your chin on his extended palm, blinking up at his beautiful, green eyes. Your tail stops swishing as hard, and he seems to ease up at the same time you do. Reading your physical cues and responding accordingly is one of the reasons Damian quickly became your favorite, and this demonstration only hits that nail on the head. "Everything is just fine. Father and I are simply talking." He gestures to your discarded dinner. "Do you want any more?"

You huff and turn your face away. Damian takes your dismissal for what it really is and looks at Bruce next.

"You should apologize."

His father's eyes widen. "For what? I didn't throw a bucket on the ground."

"For the slight regarding their cognitive ability. You hurt their feelings." Damian sounds offended on your behalf. It makes something in your chest thrum pleasantly. "I'll fetch a broom for the mess while you say you're sorry."

"I can grab the broom —" one sharp look from his son quiets Bruce down immediately. You and he both watch Damian leave the room, then the human regards you warily while you regard him with a scowl.

Bruce tries to approach the tank. You bare your teeth and he stops. Good human. Good, rude human. Do not approach. You are very scary and fearsome. You might just use your teeth for something more than food if sufficiently provoked.

"You really can understand me, can't you?" He asks, almost rhetorically. The flat look you give him makes his cheeks flush with color. "You can. That's...fascinating. I've skimmed your file of course — I co-run the aquarium, I have to be knowledgeable of all the animals — but I obviously don't know you like my son does."

Ugh. This land creature uses small words. Damian uses big words, which helps you learn faster even if it's more difficult to latch onto what he's talking about.

Bruce calls your name again, and your eyes snap to his. He looks less embarrassed and more curious. More like he's recognizing you as a being capable of proper thought and not some dumb, prey animal in a big play pen. Something in you becomes less tense.

"I'm sorry," he finally says. "Really. I'm coming from a place of concern, is all. I never intended to hurt your feelings. You mean a lot to my son, and the feeling seems to be mutual. My concern is just...the extent of the feeling. Damian doesn't have many human friends, and hiring him on to help manage the aquarium hasn't encouraged him in that regard. I just don't...I just want him to..."

He trails off and sighs. This time, when Bruce tries to take a step closer, you keep your teeth hidden behind your lips. He perches on the lip of the tank to look at you, blue eyes taking in all your aquatic features. They're pretty, reminding you of the water, but not as pretty as Damian's.

Just for fun, you puff up and flare out all of your fins just to see him flinch back. Your chirping laughter makes Bruce crack his own smile, and he shakes his head.

"I understand why he adores you," he mutters, something fond in his tone. You sway back and forth in the water with a prideful trill. Obviously you adore him back. That's why you gave him your scales, to prove your devotion. As soon as Damian gives you something valuable back, you'll be life-mates! You're so excited!

"I think... I think that's the biggest reason why I have to separate you two."

You freeze when your brain processes what he just said. Damian reenters the room at that moment, carrying a broom and dust pan to sweep up your abandoned meal.

"Those imbecilic interns moved the cleaning supplies again," he scowls, taking care of the food with a shake of his head. "I swear, father, no one knows how to put anything back in this facility. Some days it feels like Tim and I are the only competent people here."

"And your old man, right?" Says Bruce, rising to his feet. Damian doesn't answer that. "Oh, ouch." His teasing tone shifts, becomes earnest and quiet. "You know I only want what's best for you, right, Tadpole?"

"I know," the boy sighs, dumping the food into a nearby garbage can. He turns to face you, smiling, until he sees the fear on your face. "Something wrong?"

You click your tongue and whistle imploringly, lifting a hand out of the water to beckon him closer. Damian moves to comply, but Bruce's hand curling around his arm impedes his progress. You immediately whistle again, more insistent. More distressed.

"Father, let go, they're upset by something. Let me —"

"I can't do that, kiddo," Bruce frowns, firmly but not unkindly. "I'm reassigning them a new primary caretaker. The emotional attachment to you is too detrimental to their life here."

Damian's eyes widen. "You're not serious."

He tries to yank his arm out of Bruce's grip, but the man is taller and stronger than his son. He wraps his other arm around Damian's waist, guiding him towards the doors.

"Father, let go of me! This is not — everything is fine! I-I won't swim in the tank anymore, I won't physically touch them anymore, I promise! Don't do this!"

Your trilling becomes sharper as you note the distress in your beloved's voice. You throw your arms up to the edge of the tank and try to hoist yourself over, but you've never done it without the help of a caretaker, and you slip back into the water with a rough splash. Undeterred, you flick your tail to give you more momentum, scrabbling against the smooth, concrete edge and crooning for Damian.

You see his vibrant, green eyes, focused on you and glittering like your scales. They've never looked so shiny. Instinctively, you know this isn't a positive trait for a land creature to have.

"Stop, please stop! Look at them, they'll get hurt if you take me away," Damian insists, thrashing against his dad. Bruce hangs on tighter, almost dragging him at this point. "Don't — don't, Baba, please, I'm not hurting them at all, I'll figure out how to break off the engagement, I'll do whatever you want!"

"Calm down, Damian," Bruce murmurs, "please, we're gonna talk about this, I promise, but right now you need to —"

Both of them startle when you finally jump out of the tank, hitting the floor with a heavy thud. The hard surface scrapes against your skin and scales in a distinctly uncomfortable way, but you ignore it and start dragging your body towards Damian. Your arms buckle under the strain of maneuvering yourself out of the water, and the flopping of your long, heavy tail isn't helping as much as you'd hoped.

Bruce yanks Damian behind him protectively and pulls a radio off his hip. You hiss and snarl, offended that he would dare think you'd hurt him. Damian tries to duck out from under him, calling to you with obvious concern.

You croon back, the sound low and warbly in your anger, and lunge for him. Scales get scraped painfully off of your tail, leaving a trail of red that you pay no mind. Bruce dodges your clumsy attempts and hoists Damian up by the waist so he doesn't break away either. More of your caretakers burst through the doors, one of them holding a funny, shiny contraption, and there's lots more yelling. They all look as panicked and distressed as you feel.

Good. They should know how much pain they're causing by taking away your precious Damian.

One of the caretakers — named Clark, you think; he comes around mostly to do your health checkups — crouches low and flashes his palms in a show of no ill intent. You reach out with your own palm and lurch forward again, shoving him out of your way. He will not impede you. None of them will.

More scales litter the concrete, stained red with blood. The shiny contraption held in another person's hands — Dick, the loud one you remember — makes a sharp popping noise, and you feel something stab your shoulder.

You flinch back momentarily, palming at it. Damian's distressed yelling reaches a crescendo, and you feel compelled to meet it.

Your jaw clicks from stretching your mouth open so wide. Instinct and rage guide you to draw breath, deeper than you ever have, and bellow.

The resulting sound is a haunting wail, piercing the air around you and making the water in the tank ripple, making the land creatures cry and cover their ears, making the windows rattle and warp. You wail and cry and scream at the injustice, at the audacity of these people to take from you what is yours. You want it back. You want him back. You want Damian!

You see Clark buckle and clutch at his head. You see Dick drop the shiny device that hurt you. You see Bruce grit his teeth and cover one ear, the other busy holding onto Damian.

You see Damian pressing his hands to his ears. You see water running down his face. You see him looking at you with a mixture of fear and upset.

Your mouth falls closed with a snap of your teeth, startled and ashamed. You had hurt Damian. You hurt him and he was scared of you now.

That was not supposed to happen. You didn't mean it.

What have you done?

There's movement in your periphery you pay no mind to. Your back lights up with pain in two more places, and the world slowly starts to spin and lose focus. You stop resisting and slump to the floor, eyes drooping as you continue to look forlornly at Damian.

Damian, who looks back as more tears run down his face. Damian, who is screaming again. Damian, who vanishes through the doors that Bruce finally drags him off to.

You warble miserably and close your eyes, letting the sedatives take you away into a fitful slumber.

[ghost-bxrd]

Subject class 223 spotted with a subject of unknown origin. Possible category— abyssal?

New subject appears to be of undocumented species. Bioluminescent membrane may be used in hunting, further research pending. Length of tail may point to relations with local snake species? Unlikely, research pending. Thin tail and visible bone structure may point to possible malnutrition/starvation.

Subject appears to be very young. Subject class 223 likely to assume paternal role again as he it did with [REDACTED]. Subject class 223 demonstrates remarkable tolerance with new subject, developing new behavioral patterns in response to that of the new subject. Integration into subject class 223’s pod pending? Further observation required.

Note to self: do not let [REDACTED] see. Redirect expeditions sw.

— Log entry 3.18, Researcher: [REDACTED]

[splendidcyan]

Me every May: gonna do merm stuff this year!!! [Doesn't do merm stuff]

Me this Feb: yea merm time

Some silly cringe self indulgent batfam doodles!!! Bruce Wayne is a diver and adopted baby mer Dick Grayson and tbhhh idk anything else LOL. Damian doesn't know how to swim bc he was raised in the desert so it's a good thing his big brother and favorite person can teach him :) this Bruce is a mix of Battinson and the arkham games, since that's what I'm most familiar with. I rlly like how pale and Victorian he looks lmao. Also DONT ask how Damian is breathing while he swims, magic or smth idk

Alcohol markers and gouache on smooth Bristol paper.

[minnow-doodle-doo]

For everyone who said that he should use his extra arms to wrangle his children, you are so correct

[violetomnivore]

@dragonpyre @sreppub I apologize for tagging you all but it’s literally your fault.

Idk I love the idea of seal!Jason and otter!Dick so much.

also I have stickers of these fuzzy bros in my shop now here

[merymeou]

I need everyone to know I like the Broken Waters series by Isonian a normal amount

[jcryptid]

Felt sad so I decided to cheer myself up by redrawing some post it note fanart for Isonian’s fic ‘Keiko’ on ao3

@whatweoughttosay

[the-booty-crusader]

I heard ya! Jason will not be dying in Tim Krake… but… (this poll will be for something far away in the future)

Please do leave comments with ideas if you have them!!

[puppetmaster13u]

Well, Mermay is almost done buuut, Aquatic batfam is always lovely. So which would you be fine hearing me ramble about-slash-work on the Oneshots lol

Eel Mer-   Eeels. Long wriggly friends. Now with apposable thumbs! And Bruce's growing adoption problem- and a slight family curse but shhh.

Merfolk-   I mean, fish! A mixture of modern and fantasy with the merfolk of Gotham waters being cryptids compared to the rest of the seas. The bats think it's hilarious.

Octopus Mer-   Octopi are fun. And you ever see the videos of octopus continuously escaping their tanks? Imagine if the octopi were vigilantes with weapons. Yeaah...

Crabtaur-  Lazarus crabs? Lazarus crabs! And a curse to them all that they have to work around in their day to day lives.

Nudibranch-   Sea Slugs? Indeed. And a lot of them poisonous and using the poisons in their work- along with messing with each other.

Mershark-   Sharks! Includes Flashpoint-esque Thomas being a murder grandpa and past AlfredxMarthaxThomas, along with Bruce being less murderous

Kraken-   Squids. Think giant merfolk but well, giant squids. Fantasy-esque AU with Gotham being the largest population of pirates & crime on the seas.

Sea Dragon- Sea serpents mixed with seahorses and a bit more. Includes the kids being bio-kids via blood ritual and a couple galas. Also some shapeshifting.

[crow-aeris]

In honor of mermay, but not related to any prompts:

“I don’t trust that guy,” Jason narrowed his eyes, jabbing a finger at the weird not-human and his half-human son chatting with fully-human Bruce and fully-human Alfred.

“Relax, Jay,” their fully selkie not-human brother drawls with his legs in their giant pool filled with aquarium-grade water, “It’s just Uncle Clark with his son.”

Tim shrugs, “I dunno, they look weird… and smell weird. Cass says theyre- and I quote- really weird, if Cass says they’re weird? Sorry, Dick, they’re weird.”

“So…” Dick puts on a cheshire smile and leans forward, “you can even say they’re Super -weird? Eh? Wha- AUGH!”

Tim yelped, flinging himself out of the pool as Jason lurched forward to yank the selkie into the water. Cass was laughing below the surface, a wide smile on her face as Dick floundered and screeched. Jason had his claws hooked into the selkie’s pants with a bright grin.

“BRUCE!” Dick screeched, the sound of struggle clear within this floor of the manor, and Tim pulls his caudul fin out of the water in disgust, “ALFRED! HELP, I’M- AUAGDHGAGAHDHFPFPSPFGSAGO—”

“What is going on here?” Bruce walked over to examine the scene with an incredulous expression, “Jason, let your brother go!”

The lionfish mer hissed in displeasure, but released the selkie after a stern look from the butler.

“BRUCE!” Dick gasped dramatically, clawing himself onto the floor. His Pelt remained dry, but everything else about Dick was sopping wet. There was even a puddle forming under him.

Tim eyed him warily, flattening his cranial fin as Damian approached with the other half-human, half not-human spawn of the not-human Dick had named “Clark”.

“Grayson, cease you incessant chatter,” Damian huffed before addressing his… “friend”, “Jon, feast your eyes upon our mers.”

The older human walked over while Bruce ranted to Clark about his children’s “dramatics”. Meanwhile, Damian was still talking, “Timothy is a pedigree mer. He is born of a prestigious bloodline, and his scales echo his worth. The previous humans he resided with were not providing him with the proper enrichment a mer of his value should have, and so Father rescued him.”

Tim grimaced at the human’s description before glancing at his red-dappled tail, “Thanks?”

“What do you have to say about me?” Jason swam over and propped himself upon the ledge of the pool with a grin.

Damian sniffed and gave Jason a side-long glare while “Jon” giggled.

“He looks pretty,” the bright boy commented while his… brother(?) hummed.

“I think this guy looks prettier, kinda like a koi.”

Jon examined Tim’s tail before nodding, “Hmm, you’re right!”

Tim frowned, feeling suddenly self conscious at the attention.

Damian sniffed, “Please do not scrutinize Timothy! He is a sensitive mer, and I will not allw you to unsettle him! Jason, on the other hand, is hardier- though I advise you to keep a healthy distance from his spines. His piscine breed is that of a lionfish-”

Jason grins and flashes his fins like the show-off he is.

“-and Father rescued him from an illegal mer trade,” Damian finished.

“What about her down there?” the older half-human asked, peer down at Cass, who popped up to wave and tap Tim’s tail. With a smile, he flicked his tail and artfully drenched the older half-human with the pool water.

“Kon!” the little one exclaimed in shock, and Tim darted away before Bruce coild spot him.

“Jason!” Bruce called again, “We don’t splash guests either!”

“But-!”

“I doesn’t matter if he was annoying, we don’t splash guests!” Bruce sighed in exasperation before returning to his conversation with an amused Clark and an equally entertained Alfred.

Damian continued on with his infodumping, “Cassandra is a mer who escaped from a facility ran by my grandfather, who was trying to create the ultimate weapon for marine warfare.”

“Oh!” Kon blinked in surprise, “That… was not what I was expecting!”

“I kinda feel bad for them,” Jon commented, but Jason waved him off.

“Don’t worry about Cass. If she was in any real danger, she’ll just electrocute you and then rip your throat out!”

“That’s so cool!” Jon chirped eagerly while Kon remained slightly peturbed.

Tim shrugged, “I guess, but it’s kinda… just our lives. Dick has seen so much more of the world than any of us.”

“Maybe, but he’s an asshole,” Jason replied and Cass nodded in agreement. The selkie jerked upright with an affronted gasp and a mock-offended expression.

“Excuse me! I am not an asshole!”

“Mhm, sure not,” Jason countered with a flap of his hand. Before Dick could continue his defense, Bruce approached once more with Clark and Alfred at his side.

The not-human helped Dick to his feet before addressing the two half-human boys, “Alright, boys. It’s getting pretty late, so we should head back to the farm before Ma and Pa worry.”

The boys chorused their agreement before… floating and flying out of the manor? Tim thinks that not-human and his half-human sons were weird.

Bruce took in a breath before kneeling down in front of them, “Okay, kids. I know your thoughts on strangers in the manor-”

Jason interrupted with a flat expression, “If they weren’t kids, then I would’ve stung them.”

Tim huffed as Bruce’s expression tightened, “Okay, I wouldn’t have done something as extreme as Jason, but I really don’t like strangers in the manor… I kinda don’t mind that Kon, though.”

“What?! Tim!” Jason gasped in offense and Tim groans.

“Shut up, Jason! He had shiny things, okay!”

“Timmy has a crush!” Cass teased swimming over to wrap herself around Tim’s torso and drag him underwater. Very wisely, Tim decided it was in his best interest to not fight with the electric eel.

“Ugh, I wish I’d sting him sooner!”

“You will not be stinging anyone,” Bruce admonished, and Tim could hear Jason boo in dissatisfaction before joining Cass and Tim underwater.

“Father, I support Jason’s idea,” Damian chimed in, “we should allow him to sting Timothy’s potential paramore, for Timothy is a regal creature and shall not be paired up with such a thing below his standing!”

Tim groans in exasperation, the sound echoed by Bruce as he thrashed his red-white tail. Suddenly, the water churned and a ringed seal joined them in the pool, his eyes bright with mischief and whimsy.

As Bruce watched his fish (and seal) children tussel together underwater, he pulls Damian close against his side. Alfred rests his hand on Bruce’s shoulder, and the man cannot help but marvel at how far all of them have come since their first introduction into this… messy and patchwork family who now all call the Wayne Manor home…

Bruce could not be happier.

(here’s like, the prequel)

[singswan-springswan]

OK OK BUT WHAT IF MERMAN TIM GETS TO MEET THE LAND PEOPLE FOR THE FIRST TIME. maybe it's dark out and he just tries to hide his tail

Tim may have... miscalculated. Slightly. He didn't mean to spend so much time here on the beach, but there was a burrowing crab that caught his attention by the dunes, and he lost track of time watching it. Spunky little guy. It carved out a hole for itself armful by armful. The movements it made were meticulous: almost uptight, if Tim dared to personify such a creature, and the simple act was amusing enough to hold his focus for the better part of an hour. Anyway, he'd crept up on it when the tide was still high, and he'd curled up in the sand to watch it work, and now the tide is no longer high. And the surf is a long way's away.

Tim did not think this through. By the look of it, the water is still receding, which means he's got a minimum of five hours before it comes back. This wouldn't ordinarily be a problem, of course. There's no one to see him make a fool of himself shuffling down the sand, so he wouldn't be too embarrassed to do it now.

Unfortunately, however, it isn't just sand between him and the waves. This stretch of the beach is littered with rocks and large boulders. Navigating is tricky enough when he has water to swim through, and Tim is not designed for mobility on land. The dark won't help either, even with his night vision. He'll probably get hurt if he tries to cross now. The rocks aren't too sharp---wave-worn as they are---but they are rough, and Tim's fins are delicate. Tearing them is likely to happen up here with his deadweight tail. That's never a fun prospect. Torn fins hurt like heck.

Alternatively, he could try to go around the large swath of rocks. He's not too far from the nice beach that one human family uses frequently; all he has to do is stick to the finer sand until the rocks are clear. It won't be pleasant, to say the least. That much crawling and flopping around will still give him abrasions, especially as he dries out. He wishes not for the first time that he had legs.

His options aren't great though. It's either risk it on the rocks, take the long way around, or stay put and chance drying out while waiting for the tide. None of that sounds appealing. Tim can practically hear his mother's disappointed voice.

Honestly Timothy, your inattentiveness is pathetic.

She liked to say he'd be murdered by humans. Directly, inadvertently, it didn't matter. There are plenty of ways he could end up dead thanks to them, and apparently every fault of his is in correlation.

Tim has his own opinions about the destructive nature of humanity. He doesn't get many chances to debate it with his parents. But then again, his exposure to the human world is limited. And skewed.

One thing he knows about humans, though, is their general tendency to be diurnal. He shouldn't encounter any now well after sundown, so his chances of being killed by one have dropped by a margin. Good thing. Tim will need plenty of time if he's going to crawl all the way around these rocks to get back to the water. By his reasoning, that's the best course of action. At least it'll give him something to do. And there's no permanent bodily harm involved. He will feel it for days afterwards. Oh well. This is the price he'll have to pay for getting stuck on land.

Begrudgingly, Tim uncurls his tail and flops onto his ventral side. This is going to be such a pain. His tail is practically useless in the sand; at least against the stone, he'd have a bit more purchase. Still, he clenches his jaw and resigns himself to the arduous task ahead. This is going to suck. His only motivation remains the threat against his fins, and the thought of drying out before the tide comes back.

Tim's never dried out before. It's a whispered horror among other mer. Supposedly, that's the worst way to die: suffocating, overheating slowly over the span of hours. Tim doesn't intend to experience that, if he can help it. He rather likes being able to breathe. So he kicks against the sand and drags his stupid deadweight forward by the armful.

There's sand in his mouth by the time he's moved a meter. He can feel it grinding between his teeth, scraping under his tongue. He'd spit if he didn't think it'd waste moisture. Stupid tide. Stupid rocks. Tim can't help grumbling as he moves. He's slow. He's trying to work into a slithering rhythm, but his fins are too floppy for it to really happen. It's a grueling process. His time-to-distance ratio is discouraging. Tim attempts to comfort himself with the knowledge that dragging his body over rocks would definitely inflict lacerations, despite being slightly faster. He is not overly comforted.

After what feels like maybe an hour, Tim is ready to maim something. He's tired, and frustrated with his progress, and his fangs are aching from all the tension in his jaw. The clear stretch of sand still seems so far away. Tim gives it a longing look and sighs hard. Honestly, if he had legs, he could probably cross the distance in minutes. Humans are so lucky.

He bites down a petulant noise and decides to cop a quick break. There's no sense scrambling until he can't feel his arms. He still has time. The longest he's stayed out of the water without losing consciousness is around... four hours, and he's only used about two of those so far. He has time to catch his breath. The air drags against his gills uncomfortably.

He slides sideways to the nearest boulder in the sand. It's large enough to block him from the breeze, and the low sprawl of its base makes for a decent structure to rest upon. Tim curls against it in a huff. He's so stupid for getting stuck out here. He really should have paid more attention. He's tired, and it's dark, and he'd rather be cold and lonely at home than a-little-too-warm and dry and lonely stranded on the beach. His parents were right. He is pathetic.

Tim did not mean to close his eyes.

Tim definitely did not mean to snooze on a rock on the beach where he is in danger of drying out. He should have seen it coming, after getting awful awful sleep for the past week, and having a tiring day along the coast and all. He shouldn't have lowered his guard. It's really dangerous to lower your guard on land. Even at night.

It's the sound of voices that startles Tim from his light doze. At first, he's mostly surprised he conked out at all: jerking his head up and banging it on stone, hissing furiously. Then he registers what woke him to begin with, and his blood runs cold.

Mer don't do land. Other mer are too afraid of humans and drying out to ever risk setting fin out of the water, so those can't be the voices of mer that he hears. As they get closer, Tim can distinguish words. That's definitely human language. He is definitely very screwed.

Tim hastily catalogues his options. The water is still too far away to reach, and there's a considerable stretch of dangerous rocks between him and it. Despite the abundance of boulders, the range of hiding places leaves much to be desired. So Tim can't flee. And Tim can't exactly hide. He probably can't fight the humans off either: not on land; he's not big enough or strong enough, and he has almost no maneuverability up here.

It seems like his only choice is to bluff his butt off. Maybe they'll freak out at the sight of him and run, and it'll give him a chance to cross the rocks. It'll hurt, but that's the fastest way to the water, and Tim would rather take his chances with torn fins than humans. There's no telling what they'd do if they got their hands on him. He's heard all the horror stories.

The voices grow louder as Tim hunkers down in place. They'll pass right by him at this rate, and they'll definitely see him then. He has to be intimidating. He has to scare them. Piece of cake, right?

"I'm going to trip and die and it'll be your fault. I hope you know that."

They're very close now. Tim coils up. He can recognize their voices. Which. Is really saying something. Because Tim doesn't spend a ton of time around humans in general, but he does know a select few very personally. Sort of. It's kind of a one-way relationship.

"Oh, stop being dramatic."

"I'm not being dramatic, dickhead. I can't see where the fuck I'm going! You know this part of the beach has tons of rocks, right? You know I could impale myself, right? Do you even care? I bet you don't. Let me use my flashlight."

"That detracts from the experience!"

"Exactly! Dying is not something I want to experience!"

Tim's plan was to jump scare them when they got close enough. This was another grand miscalculation. The breeze makes it difficult to pinpoint their exact location by sound alone, so the two humans end up passing much closer to Tim than he anticipated, and he totally botches his plan in a fit of surprise.

They're right there, right next to his rock. Right there. If he reached out, he could touch that one's ankle. He very much does not do that. Instead (because Tim is full of grace), he chirps out a startled noise and lurches backwards, tumbling over his awkward limbs and sprawling in the sand. He has been shot through with adrenaline.

Someone swears as Tim scrambles to right himself. He lost the element of surprise. He definitely has their attention now.

"What is that---HOLY FUCKING SHIT WHAT IS THAT?"

"USE YOUR FLASHLIGHT!"

"FUCK YOU! YOU TOLD ME NOT TO!"

"DAMMIT JAY USE YOUR FUCKING FLASHLIGHT!"

The enthusiastic clamor has not soothed Tim's nerves at all. Now, he is very wired. Apprehension is crawling up his throat like a bad case of stomach bug. Just when he manages to straighten his stupid tail out, he's thoroughly blinded to the tune of further swearing.

"WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT?"

His shock and fear crash together. He chirps again before he can think to stop himself. He can't see, and he can't go anywhere, and there are two humans freaking out over the fact that he shouldn't exist. It's frightening. Tim would rather not admit as much, but he doesn't have a great deal of bearing on the situation, and he knows these two humans. They could easily overpower him if they wanted to. They don't seem to be relaxed around him as it is.

"Dick, you idiot, what are you doing?"

Through the glare, Tim can see the shadows shift into a silhouette. Getting closer, inch by inch. Terror spikes up his spine. Instinctively, he pushes back, shoving at the sand and flaring his fins in a poor attempt to hide the fact that he's cowering. Like a pup. He flares his fins and hisses. A reprise of the plan he made in his head. Sorta. He'd hyped himself up to be scarier.

"Oh shit!" The silhouette leaps away.

"What the fuck did you think was going to happen?"

"That's a fish person."

Tim hisses again, louder and angrier and curls up tighter. They're obviously spooked, so why won't they just leave? Everyone leaves except the people Tim wants to. He's no match for these humans. If they want to hurt him, they totally can and he'll be powerless to stop them.

"Yeah no shit---"

"Fish people aren't real!"

"Well obviously that's not true! Because I'm staring right at one and it's too ugly to be fake. What the hell is it on land fo---hey! Dick! Dumbass what are you doing?"

The silhouette begins to approach again, moving with newfound confidence, and Tim is running out of room to back away to. His tail smacks into the next rock in his attempt to retreat. No. This is bad. This is really bad. The human is closing in, and the glare of the light over his shoulder gives way enough for bare features to be visible. Warm skin, dark hair, wide, curious eyes. An inquisitive hand reaching out.

Tim doesn't make the conscious decision to snap at the human; it's an act fueled by fear and instinct alone, accompanied by a strained growl. Luckily, the human's reflexes are quick enough to avoid Tim's fangs. But he doesn't back off.

Tim can't help it. His bravado dissolves into a high, pitching trill. It's a sound meant to summon his pod, but it's a pup noise and Tim is not a pup, and there's no one nearby to answer him anyway. The thought scares him. He tries to shrink even further---maybe he can switch tactics. Maybe if they think he's nothing special, they'll get bored and wander away.

Oh, who is he kidding?

"Jason, turn the light off. You're scaring him."

"Geez, make up your mind!"

"It's just a kid!" The closer human snaps. "Look, he's practically shaking!"

"Didn't know fairytales had feelings." Jason grumbles, but then the glaring light clicks out, and Tim's eyeballs aren't under assault anymore.

His throat feels dry. His whole body feels dry. His eyes are warm. He's too exhausted to keep another depressing trill from slipping out.

"What's it doing up here? Aren't they supposed to live in the water?"

"Oh what are you, a cryptid expert now?"

"I read the little mermaid." Jason rejoins pettily.

"Maybe he's hurt."

Tim's vision starts to come back a tiny bit. He can see one human crouched right in front of him. The other is standing just behind his shoulder, and he looms over them both in a manner that makes Tim wish he'd chosen ripped fins and the short way to the water.

"Why don't you ask him, Dickface?"

What?

The intense gaze of the older human settles on Tim, though Tim is surprised to find it softened a bit and lacking any hostility.

"Hey kiddo, can you understand us?"

What's the point in asking? If they wanted to hurt him, they could just hurt him. It wouldn't matter whether he spoke their language or not, right? It shouldn't. It doesn't make sense for them to ask.

Tim is so caught off-guard by the directness that he fumbles through an answer before he can talk himself out of it. A nod first. Then he remembers how bad human vision is at night, and chirps out a small "Yeah."

"Oh shit, he can talk? You can talk?"

Tim's not sure how much farther he can shrink. "...yeah."

"Wow, okay."

"Are you hurt?"

Why would they want to know? Why do they care? it doesn't make sense. People don't just care for no reason.

"N-no but I---"

"Where are your parents?" Jason interjects. Tim can't tell, but it looks like the tall human is scowling.

It'd be a smart idea to lie. Right? If they did want to hurt Tim, he could fabricate some story about his strong intimidating parents coming to his rescue, and maybe the humans would let him go. The truth might have the opposite effect. But Tim is too tired to make a convincing lie; he knows that much.

"Traveling." He says. "They said I'm old enough to take care of mys---eep!"

Suddenly, Tim is very very far from the ground and chirping all of his distress about it. There are arms around him. He's being carried. He's moving so fast, the ground is speeding away under his tail at a dizzying pace.

"Like I needed an excuse." Jason grumbles, and the sound vibrates straight through Tim's shoulders.

"What?"

The shadow flickering in his peripheral is very energetic and sounds like the older human. "I'm Dick." He chirps back, somehow keeping pace with Jason, who must be moving at the speed of light. "Don't worry, your adoption isn't official until Bruce meets you."

"Ado---what? Wait, this is kidnapping!" Tim does his best to physically protest, but in the end he's glad Jason doesn't drop him. That's a long way to fall and Tim's fins might not survive the distance. "I have parents! Let me go!"

"Your parents let you get stranded on the beach in the middle of the night?"

No, no that's Tim's fault, not theirs! He should have been more careful. He shouldn't be on land in the first place. "It's not their fault. I was being stupid! I---"

"Are your scales supposed to be this dry?"

Tim cows at the question. They wouldn't be. If he'd stayed in the water like a smart little mer. He's old enough to know better. To do better. It's what's expected of him.

"No." His voice sounds small.

Jason snorts. "Wow. Dad's going to love you."

"We have a really big pool in our house!" Dick offers cheerily. "Saltwater, of course. It's got tons of realistic decorations you'll probably appreciate. And Alfred makes the best snacks---when we get home we can probably bother him for some. What's your name, by the way?"

They've reached the smooth stretch of sand. Behind the humans, Tim can see the rocks growing smaller and smaller as they fade from view. He still can't find a reason to lie.

"My name's Tim."

[witherby]

Part 7 of mer!reader?🫣🫣🫣

Of course! I think it's time to get you and Damian back together.

Human!Damian x Mer!Reader Part 7

Masterlist with all parts Here!

Content features upsetting Mer behavior and unsafe diving practices. Wear your protective gear, people!

It takes another month for your routine to settle back into a semblance of normalcy. The specialists Bruce told Damian about had spent three days observing your behaviors and drew up a detailed care plan to help you recover as best as you could, which the facility follows with great enthusiasm.

You wake up and swim to the entrance of the tank to receive breakfast from Jon. Afterwards, he and Clark gently roll you out of the tank to apply weird-smelling salves to the patches on your tail, encouraging it to heal correctly and for new scales to grow. You sit and wait for the salve to absorb, then you get back into the water to play a little, and then it's Attention Time.

You swim all the way to the bottom floor of your tank, where visitors come admire you through the tunnels under your tank for several hours. Sometimes you have the energy to do a trick or two.

Then, it's back up to the top of the tank for dinner, more playtime, and then you get to sleep until tomorrow where you do it all again.

But the lethargy remains. The stinging, empty space in your chest only seems to grow the more you see Damian dispassionately leading tours and refusing to look at you. Of all the people that come to admire you, the one person whose attention you actually want, you cannot get.

Jon, bless him, is trying so hard to keep you happy. He talks to you every day, he gives you tons of treats, he swims with you as long as you want him to, and he's given you so many new toys that they've overtaken your cute rock collection. His effort is why you're doing your best to hide how bad you still feel.

And his company does help! It does. You can comfortably call him a friend, and mean it. But you are so tired. You miss Damian so much. You feel drained, and the urge to remain inside your little hideout gets stronger every passing day.

Every night, in the comforting darkness of your castle spire, the old bricks pressing against your body and shielding you from the rest of the world, you allow your thoughts to drift back to the boy with beautiful, emerald eyes without fail.

You think of the first time you met him, and how he looked at you as just another dumb animal in the aquarium for him to care for. You think of the first time you made him realize you were so much more — how you'd done every trick he commanded with such attitude and even mocked him back that he actually cracked a smile. You think of the first time you pulled him into the water to show him your favorite parts of your habitat, and then how he reassured you it was fine that you almost drowned him by accident because he knew you hadn't meant to. You think of all the times he snuck in after hours to spend just a little more time with you, to play just one more game, to ensure you didn't feel like another part of his job he had to do but someone he genuinely looked forward to seeing.

You think of the pretty blush on his face when you mustered the courage to give him your scales.

You think of all the gifts you left him afterwards, and how you didn't get any back.

You think of his dispassionate expression as he leads another group of visitors into your enclosure, day after day after day.

Your chest burns. You weep into the water and succumb to fitful slumber.

--

"I need a dive team to the Mer tank please! Right now!"

Damian furrows his brow, momentarily pausing his work. He's in the dolphin exhibit currently hand-feeding them when the announcement comes over the speaker system. He wonders what you're doing to have freaked Jon out, but it's not his place to care anymore, so he tries to push the curiosity from his mind and refocus on his task.

One dolphin in particular is pretty bad about taking food from a handler. It's also just food aggressive in general, bullying its pod-mates out of the way to get to the food first. Damian can't help but compare how much smarter you are to these animals. He sighs.

"Doctor Kent to the Mer exhibit!"

Hmm. Did you breach your tank again? Or maybe you bumped your body against the spire you like to sleep inside. Damian tried to tell his father that the rough brick texture could hurt your more vulnerable top half if not careful, but Bruce was certain you'd be alright. He wonders what kind of fuss you're kicking up today, if it's a real issue or if Jon hasn't been around you long enough to realize that sometimes you fake a problem because it's funny.

"All divers to the Mer exhibit please!"

Tim rushes through the door into the dolphin exhibit, startling Damian into dropping the bucket. He quickly backs up with a gasp as the dolphins swarm to the food and start gobbling it up. He faces Tim with a glare.

"Does nobody know how to follow protocol anymore? You're supposed to knock before you —"

"You need to get upstairs," Tim says, holding up an access key to your enclosure, "like right now. Vitals on our mer are really bad, we can't extract them from the spire and —"

Damian doesn't stick around to hear him finish that sentence. He snatches the key and sprints through the aquarium like the devil's on his fucking heels. His heart is racing and not from the exertion. He forgoes the elevator and starts rushing up the stairs three at a time, climbing floor by floor by floor to get to you as fast as he can.

It was a real emergency, then? What had happened? Jon was supposed to be taking care of you now. You were supposed to be recovering. You were supposed to be happier without him, now.

What was wrong with you?

There's no time to head into the locker room and get a wetsuit on. He jams the key into the exhibit door and throws it open, rushing into the room with single-minded focus.

Jon is in a wetsuit and treading water, relaying information to his dad with a worried frown. Clark is kneeling next to the tank and giving him instructions on how to get you to the surface. Dick is sitting on the lip of the tank and wiggling into a suit of his own, very unfamiliar with the gear as he doesn't dive with Mers. Bruce is on the phone and standing by Clark, looking more and more concerned as the situation develops.

When Damian bursts in, Dick startles and looks up at him, fumbling with the clasp on his flipper.

"Dami, go ahead and get a suit on. We need you to — DAMIAN!"

He doesn't think. Doesn't stop to listen to whatever Clark's rambling on about. Doesn't wait for permission before he kicks his shoes off, takes a running start, and dives into the tank in his plainclothes. He pedals his arms and kicks his feet as hard as he can and goes down, down, down, deeper into your vast tank and towards your favorite resting place. The effort is tremendous without the slim, hydrodynamic suit to aid him and a rebreather to allow him to stay down here for long periods of time. He pushes past it all and keeps going. You are in trouble and he is going to help you.

When he makes it to the spire and swims around to the entrance, he immediately sees the issue. Your body is curled into the mer version of fetal position; your arms are locked around your waist in an embrace and your tail is coiled underneath you in a tight spiral, twisted around itself and wedging you deeply into the cramped space. The angle of your body, coupled with the tight spacing of the hideaway, make it nearly impossible to pull you out.

In the wild, a mer found in this position is an almost universal signifier that they are near death.

If there's no intervention, you are going to die today.

Damian climbs into the spire with you, squeezing his body inside with a low grunt. A burst of bubbles escape from his mouth. If he can't pull you out — a dangerous move which would damage your tail and break your fins if they tried — he has to unfold you.

His back scrapes against the bricks and pain rockets down his spine. Another bunch of bubbles fly out. He grits his teeth and starts carefully pushing at you, gingerly moving your upper half, then your lower half, around and around and around to create enough space to safely push you free.

His chest is heaving. Damian is exhausted and quickly running out of breath. He cannot stop. If he stops, you won't make it.

He jerks when something jabs his ankle, arms wrapping protectively around you as his head snaps down to see what happened.

Jon is hovering just by the spire opening, holding a rebreather in his hand and shaking it insistently at him.

Damian reaches around you and makes a few grabs at it, finally curling his fingers around the device and pushing it into his mouth. He clicks the button to turn it on and almost coughs when oxygen starts to flow into his lungs. He slumps against you briefly, taking in your closed eyes and face twisted into agony.

What happened, he thinks. How did this happen to you, Princess?

His ankle is jabbed again. Damian looks back at Jon, who has his hands out in an offer of help. Damian gently starts to maneuver you around again, slowly but steadily unfolding your body, and when Jon catches on, helps do the same thing from your opposite side.

It is painstaking work. Dick eventually gets into the water to join in, but there's no room for him, so he hovers to the side ready to help carry your body to the surface when you're finally free.

It feels like it takes hours, but can't be more than twenty minutes. Twenty minutes too long in Damian's opinion. Eventually, your body is unwound enough to ease you out of the spire without injury, and the three men rush you to the surface where Clark and four other vets are waiting to take you. It becomes a flurry of activity after that.

Damian spits out the rebreather when his feet are back on solid ground. He pants and doubles over, limbs shaking from exertion, and watches the medical team assess your condition and fret over you. You're loaded onto a special stretcher and whisked from the room, and he's about to follow suit when a hand clasps over his wrist.

"No," he rasps, already gearing up the breath to scream at his father, but Bruce just shakes his head and presses a towel into his hands.

"Here," he says, voice soft and knowing. "Here, Tadpole. I just want you to get dry before you follow them into the medical bay. You can't help anybody if you get sick."

Damian clutches it, staring at his father with no small amount of trepidation. Bruce just sighs.

"I'm sorry, Damian. I am. We'll talk about it later, but I won't separate you two again. You have my word." He jerks his head toward the doors. "Go dry off and change in the locker room. I'll call Medical and tell them to let you in when you're done."

Damian throws his arms around Bruce, uncaring about how he's soaking his dad. Evidently Bruce doesn't care either, if the fierceness in which he hugs him back is any indication.

"Thank you," Damian whispers, then pulls away to head to the lockers.

[ghost-bxrd]

[REDACTED] came and handed me footage of the pod in… startlingly good quality. I am not sure as to [REDACTED] motivations, but I won’t be letting my guard down. There’s too much at stake. I won’t do that to them. To him.

[REDACTED] did not comment the footage and left again just as swiftly. He also left me a small folder of drawings of the pod. I have taken the liberty to add some notes to them. I won’t deny that I am unnerved by [REDACTED] response to… well, I suppose I may just as well say it. A traitor.

[REDACTED] has never been anything but loyal to [REDACTED]. This apparent “change of heart”… I don’t buy it.

But I won’t deny that I’m also a little grateful. These weeks without any sightings of the pod have made me anxious.

…. Did [REDACTED] notice?

File Notes:

Personal files, recovered from the sunken remains of the [REDACTED] research facility, Researcher: [REDACTED], Researcher status: deceased

[meowmeowmeowmeow4x]

mer Jason and Poison Ivy prompt

The Mangroves provide food, shelter and maintain the land. For that reason, the sirens of the mangrove swamp and its surrounding lakes and rivers reveer the trees as sacred offspring of the original World Tree. They live in giant mangroves with cloth or straw forming roofs. Their leftovers and droppings help to fertilise the trees, and the smaller mangrove roots provide a safe place for guppies to play.

To desecrate or, heaven forbid, destroy one of these trees is invite to invite the siren’s wrath. But one of the older kids dared him to do it for 50 whole dollars. Jason just needed to go in, spray some rude message, and get out. And he’d be able to afford warm meals for two weeks.

That was until Poison Ivy caught him. Jason’s body twists into agony. scales and fins burst through skin. For his crime of despoiling the sacred grove, Poison Ivy owns him now, until his debt is repaid.