#floriian

[krantex]

I have never drawn a merman in my life, but here’s Bruce from @floriianthefool ‘s wonderful “like the soft beating of a heart in a still chest (fit into me like a missing rib)” on AO3!! I was inspired by @poppywine ‘s ask and gorgeous designs, it really got my creative juices flowing!

Don’t mind the wack anatomy (human and fish), I did this in like 3 hours lol. I love the way Floriian describes Bruce, I don’t think I quite did the picture of him in my head justice, but hopefully I conveyed how pretty he is!

Anyways, go check out the fic, it’s incredible and I’m always excited when I see there’s a new chapter up!! Can’t wait for Reader to get a little fish kiss from his fishy fish lips (if you get that reference I love you).

[floriianthefool]

I hope you don't mind me asking, but I was wondering if there was any fish species that your mer Dick & Bruce are based on? I know bruce is mostly monochromatic/transparent in terms of scale coloring & dick mostly is red/yellow, but I was curious if there was any IRL inspiration for their tail shapes! TYSM :)

Hiii!! You don't know how excited your ask made me! Feeling real giddy as I type this up!! 😆 Anyway, back to your question. Yes! They're both inspired by real fish species. I've taken a lot of creative freedom, but, they both are inspired by real fish, or, an amalgam of several fish.

Regarding Bruce, he's inspired by both lionfish, lionfish larva, and a leafy sea dragon.

You're right that he is kinda monochrome, all the scales on his lower body are black. His ear finning is black as well, but, he's got transparent and translucent (depends on which you look at and the lighting) appendages there as well. Like the lionfish, he has spines, and venom (like the lionfish), which hasn't come up yet, they're mostly black, but, like the leafy sea dragon as well, he's got these sort of floaty appendages on his lower body and back, like a dorsal fin (transparent/translucent depending where on the fin you look at), which are a mix of black and transparent/translucent (mostly transparent/translucent). That's why he's so glittery, and Reader keeps mentioning that as well. He's also got this light finning (idk, I don't think that's a word but I'm going to use it anyway) draping from his elbows, similar to Dick.

And Dick, the little mer. I felt so clever for this.

I was inspired by pictures of this fish right here.

This, this right here? That's a Sea Robin (😉), also known as a gurnard. 😏😏😏, felt so smart for this.

Once more, I've taken creative liberties with this, but, hey, ¯⁠\⁠⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠⁠/⁠¯. Dick has the reddish body, except brighter, more pigmented, and rather than those gorgeous pectoral fins, the green ones with blue spotting, he's got twin bright emerald green dorsal fins meeting on the ridge of his spine, like little wings. 🤗. He's got some light finning at the elbows, soft, not spines, and yellow pelvic, anal, and caudal fins, as well as the fins at his ears. That's what he looks like. 👍

So, their designs were both inspired by real fish, several different types, and, btw, I did not mind you asking! 🤗. I loved your question, and really enjoyed answering it! If you have anymore, go ahead!!

Have a nice day!!

[floriianthefool]

like the soft beating of a heart in a still chest (fit into me like a missing rib)

Mer Bruce Wayne x Reader

This is a just a short snippet of chapter six, the rest is up on ao3.

“Dick, Bruce,” you say, watching as Dick slowly comes closer, gliding through the water, Bruce simply watching from a distance, only his eyes and the top of his head above the water, eyes narrowed. “It’s feeding time.”

You plaster a smile on your face as Dick beaches himself in the shallows, sliding closer, settling a small hand on the rim of the bucket.

“Good morning,” you can’t help but say, unable to stop yourself from conversing like you’d always done before. You’d liked talking to Dick, even when he responded in a way you couldn’t understand. You still did. “I have a fine selection for you here, fresh from the sea, Dick, just for you. Well, maybe Bruce as well.”

You tilt the bucket further, sweating at the feel of eyes on you from all sides. Your smile grows more strained as Dick gives you one of his own, his serrated teeth gleaming. He sets his other hand on yours where you clutch the bucket, curving around your wrist as he chirps.

“Yes, it’s good to see you as well,” you say, avoiding his eyes, staring into the bucket. “It’s feeding time, by the way, Dick. Breakfast, yay.”

You tilt the bucket further, jostling it a bit. “Take the fish, eat, enjoy.”

Dick is silent, his light grip on your wrist growing tighter. He doesn’t move for a few seconds, and you gaze stays on a crab near the top of the pile, before you hear him shift.

Just as he lowers his head, perhaps to force you to make eye contact with him, he’s moved aside, another form moving taking his place.

Large, deathly white hands grasp the bucket, inches away from your own.

It’s Bruce.

[floriianthefool]

like the soft beating of a heart in a still chest (fit into me like a missing rib)

mer Bruce Wayne x Reader

Chapter Twelve

-

You cave in once, just once, and hire a cab to take you home.

“You work in the aquarium, yes?”

“Yeah, I work there,” you say, smiling and meeting the eyes of the driver in the mirror up ahead.

“Is it a good aquarium? A good place to go?” He takes a left, driving smoothly. He’s going north, following along the coastline, away from the aquarium which was south of here.

“Oh, I’m afraid my answer would be biased, since I work there, y’know.” You fiddle with the straps of your bag.

“Ah, that is fine. Biased is fine. I was just curious.”

“Uh- yeah, I think it’s really nice. The facilities are really good, and they’ve got a great selection, honestly. A lot of diversity regarding what animals live there.” Leaning back in your seat, you look out at the window, at the people milling around, at the sun still bright in the sky, at the few trees planted on some of the sidewalks.

He hums. “That sounds good. I have a fish as well, did you know?”

“Really?” You don’t hide your excitement. “What type of fish?”

“My wife loves the fish; she cares deeply for it. It’s a- betta, a betta fish.”

“Oh, that sounds lovely,” you say, smile growing. “I love betta fish as well, they’re beautiful.”

“Yes, our fish is beautiful. My wife, she named the fish Chaand, because he’s a white fish and-“

“He glows like the moon?”

He laughs. “Yes, he glows like the moon. She even calls him her little moon. I call him that as well.”

“It’s a lovely name. Beautiful.”

-

Rest is up on ao3 under the name 'floriian', which is restricted to registered users. 👍

[floriianthefool]

like the soft beating of a heart in a still chest (fit into me like a missing rib)

mer Bruce Wayne x Reader

Chapter Fourteen

-

When they bring out the padded sling, Bruce is immediately tense, pushing Dick with him towards the centre of the pool. He snarls when they grow closer, fins rising in an impressive showing, black sails unfurling, a warning.

He paces in the water, predatory eyes locked on the humans, Dick behind him. Dick pulls at one of Bruces arms, trying to slip past, yet Bruce maintains his stance, firm.

One of your co-workers holding the sling glances at you, uncertain. “He’s not going to come here. How are we going to get him into the sling?”

Before you can even answer, someone says, “Just lower the nets, it’ll push him into the shallows.”

Frowning, you open your mouth to say-

“He’s too dangerous to approach, ha, I should know. He nearly tore my arm off last month. Just give him a sedative, it’s what we used last time.”

“No,” you finally say, voice firm, “There will be no sedative.” The two of them look over at you, almost looming over you. One of the men crosses his arms, head tilted.

“And what do you suggest,” says the one with crossed arms. “I’ve worked with the beast before and ‘ve got the scars to prove it. Don’t know about you, princess, but I’m pretty sure Doctor Crane doesn’t want any casualties while we try to get Brucie to his checkup.”

“And there will be none,” you say, crossing your arms to match him. The other one is watching the two of you like it’s a particularly entertaining ping pong match, as well as some of your other co-workers as well, milling around the two of you. You can’t see Bruce, he isn’t in your line of sight, but you know he’s watching, know he’s taking in everything with those cutting eyes. “Doctor Crane put me in charge, and I know what I’m doing. This can all be done without any casualties, net, or sedative-“

“And how do you propose we do that?”

You steel yourself. You honestly can’t believe this conversation is still going on. Not only would the old you have not expressed her opinion, even if she had, she would have quailed by now before all the questioning and the pressure. God, old you really was a wimp. But you’re not anymore (at least you hope you’re not). You’re a new person. A braver, better, kinder person. A new you.

“The sling is stressing him out. It’s either very foreign, or he doesn’t have good experiences with it. Neither of them have good experiences with the sling. He- they both need to know they’re safe, that nothing is going to happen to them. The nets, the sedative, that’ll only freak them out, and make any future experiences even more stressful, as well as just worse in general.”

Everyone is really listening to you, really actually listening to what you have to say. Even Crossed Arms guy. It feels really nice.

“What we should do is not go into the water immediately with the sling, rather, someone needs to go into the water and, somehow, reassure them. Calm them down. We’re not going to be able to de-stress them from here, and yelling will just make it worse. Once they’ve realised that it’s safe, we should be able to convince them to come closer, and, hopefully, get onto the sling. That’s when we can bring in the sling and get Bruce on.”

“Great idea, Boss,” says the Crossed Arms Guy. It appears as if everyone has chosen him as their spokesperson. “Just, quick question?”

“Yeah,” you say. You think you know what he’s going to ask.

“Who’s going into the water? Because it sure as hell ain’t gonna be me.”

You look around the group. Everyone’s avoiding meeting your eye, except Crossed Arms guy, who only really looks defiant.

“I’ll do it.”

-

Short snippet, rest of the chapter is up on ao3 under the name 'floriian'.

[floriianthefool]

like the soft beating of a heart in a still chest (fit into me like a missing rib)

Mer Bruce Wayne x Reader

Short piece of Chapter Nine, rest up on ao3 under the name 'floriian'

-

Making your way closer, bucket lightly swinging at your side, you call out, “Dick! Bruce!” Someone sniggers behind you (you can guess who) but you ignore it, simply continuing to heft the bucket as you say, “it’s breakfast time!”

Twin sets of eyes are above the water, staring at your group, and you motion the others to stop as the pool grows closer. You take the second bucket from Jeff as they all just arrange themselves into a line, your silent protectors, alert and ready.

Holding both buckets, you move closer to the edge of the pool before kneeling, resting your knees on the hard floor, buckets on either side. You’re a metre from the pool, not out of reach if they decide to drag you in, but at such a distance that you’d have just a second to pull away.

“Bruce,” you call, waiting, before he finally moves away from Dick’s side and swims, glides really, towards you, long and lean, fins and spines relaxed, streamlined, and as he comes to a stop in the shallows, pulling himself up on thick arms, oil slick black hair droops into his face; water droplets gleam on ivory skin, fins, and spines, the layers of shiny black and shimmery translucent appendages drooping down to where they bloom in the water. “Good morning,” you say.

He doesn’t respond, just staring at you through hooded eyes, water running down his face, as he rests large hands on the concrete, flexes them against the surface.

He looks… expectant.

Heat crawls up your neck, and you dig your nails into your knees, digging into the flesh, taking a breath and growing firm. “I know, I will apologise. I just- I can’t do it from here. And, I don’t know if I should apologise now, or after he eats.”

He just looks at you, really looks at you with a skin-stripping look, one that could just open a person right up, get a good look at their insides. It feels like that right now, he’s opening you up, assessing you, evaluating what he finds inside.

At long last, he turns, flashing the gills at the sides of his neck, little openings that are currently closed, before he makes a sound, a long low hum-like sound that makes you shiver, that reaches into your bones, vibrates really, before whistling, and then clicking.

Dick perks up from where he’d been watching, stationary near the centre, before coming closer, slowly, eyes darting between Bruce, you, the group behind, Bruce, you, and just continuing to dart between the two of you. He’s apprehensive, low in the water as he comes closer, just his eyes above, face mostly obscured but for those bright blue eyes.

Your heart clenches as he stills near Bruce, at his side but further back, body low in the shallows. Your stomach churns, revolts, at his apprehension, his nervousness.

You really hurt him.

-

Hope you enjoyed!!

[floriianthefool]

Announcement y'all!!

I'm posting a new fic (another reader-insert) with mer Bruce Wayne as the love interest. I've been posting it on ao3 for the past month as it's over 10k, but, just wanted to post the blurb and first chapter here for advertising reasons.

Hope y'all enjoy!

-

A dark shape glides just under the surface, fins slicing through the waves. The water churns, a thick shiny tail smacking the surface.

He presses down from above, you bent over backwards on the railing, clutching at his shirt, feeling weightless. “Please, don’t do this. Please! Don’t let go!” Eyes burning, you try to grab him.

He lets go.

You hit the water with a splash.

In which you and Gotham Bay Aquarium's newest resident meet, and the rest, as they say, is history.

-

“Creepy little fucks, aren’t they?”

You merely hum, continuing to gaze into the dark blue waters of the tank, encompassing the entire wall at the end of the winding hallway, thick glass reaching the ceiling clear and smooth. Undulating waves of blue light wash over the room, the two of you all that was left of the evening shift, even the last of the cleaners all gone. Quiet. Silence thick like water around you, a muffled quality to the air, submerged in the microcosm of that moment.

“Very creepy,” you agree as a dark shape glides through the shoulder-high swaying sea grass planted at the bottom of the tank, lit up by the sea grass’s dim glow.

You could stay like this for an eternity, just you and Michael, gazing into the tank as the world went on beyond the walls of Gotham Bay Rehabilitation Centre and Aquarium. Just disappear for a bit, lose yourself for a fraction of eternity. Finally do the soul-searching you had told your mother this internship would grant you.

A hand briefly brushes against your own, soft, lightly calloused. “Lost in your head there for a bit, were you?”

“Just thinking,” you say, the skin between your eyebrows pinched as you cross your arms, uneasy. Something flutters in your stomach.

You had thought Michael would be over this, this thing he saw between you that you couldn’t bring yourself to name, shame and embarrassment clogging your throat. What would you mother think? No. What was it with men, what was it with men and their obsession with viewing romance between any man and woman who held even the slightest cordial relationship with one another. What was it with Michael. He had been a good friend. A great friend. A fellow inexperienced intern to get berated with by Crane, to gossip with, to have fun with. He had been a good friend (and maybe, maybe he had made you feel less lonely).

You had hoped he would stay your friend.

Eyes resolutely staying on the tank, avoiding Michael’s eyes, your gaze locks onto the dark shape once more as it grows closer to where the two of you stand. Smooth, long, and lithe, fins gliding through the water seamlessly. It stills, gaze sharp, cutting despite the metre thick glass between you. Head tilting for but a brief moment, it turns, gliding up and out of sight into floor two of three of the tank aquarium, the tank spanning three floors, and only the first and second available to the public, what made the aquarium internationally famous despite its location in Gotham, New Jersey, the cesspit of the east coast.

At least it wasn’t Bludhaven.

“Well, that was weird,” Michael comments.

You can’t help but snort, hardened resolve cracking as the forest between you melts away. “You scared h- it, dude, one look at your ugly mug and zip.” You mime a fish zooming by.

He cracks a grin, shaking his head, chestnut curls swaying with the movement. “You sure it was my mug and wasn’t yours?”

“Hey!”

“Woah, kidding, kidding,” he grins, arms raised in peace, “didn’t mean to offend, princess.”

You huff, rolling your eyes. It was good to have him back to normal, not that strange on-edge state that had defined your relationship for the past two weeks. Your stomach settles. It was good to have your friend back.

“Well, not to kill the fun, princess, but I think we should start locking up,” he says, walking backwards away from the tank.

Not looking away from the tank, you call your agreement.

The feeling is back. Not the cutting gaze, the knife just grazing your carotid artery, the animal part of your brain on edge. No. It was the other feeling. The heaviness. The weight of eyes pressing down, ever-observant, ever-present. No particular emotion, just that heaviness settling down upon you, inescapable and molasses thick.

With one last glance to the top of the tank, you turn to join Michael, ignoring the feel of eyes on your back.

“Yo, Mick, slow dow…” you trail off as he saunters by the staff-only door. “Mick, where’re you going?”

“To lock up.”

“Then come on,” you say, gripping the door handle as he continues on his merry jaunt. The fluttering in your stomach is back, faster than before.

What is he doing?

“Idiot,” you hiss before scurrying after him. “Dude,” you say as you grip his arm,” what are you doing?”

“Sadly, not that hot babe from this morning,” he quips, winking, still walking down the hallway, still pulling you with him. As he heads in the direction of the aquarium entrance, he flexes the bicep under your hands, and you scoff.

“Dude, stop being so immature. I mean, why aren’t we locking up right now. Where are you going?”

He finally stills, brown-eyed stare crinkled in a smile. It doesn’t ease your nerves. “I thought we’d start bottoms up first today.” At your surprise, he flushes. “That’s if you don’t mind. You don’t, do you?”

You glance at the manta ray tank the two of you had stopped by, a large ray gliding past at that very moment. You fight back your momentary sense of awe before turning back to Michael. Something loosens within you. It was just Micheal being dumb as usual, forgetting to tell you stuff until the last moment. “I don’t mind, but you should have told me instead of running off. Plus, why bottoms up?”

“Well,” he says, other arm up and scrunching his curls between thick fingers for but a moment. He tugs at one splayed across his forehead and drooping over his eye. “If we did it bottoms up, the last thing we’d see before leaving’d be the main tank, y’know? Thought it’d be cool.”

He was so… strange today. You don’t think you’ve ever seen a Michael this nervous before. An easily flustered and blushy Michael.

You let go of his arm, crossing your own. “Okay, cool,” you say. “Let’s go.”

And so the two of you lock up. Switching off lights, adjusting water temperatures, changing tank lighting, feeding, recording measurements, administering medicine, cleaning tanks, locking doors, and more. Much, much, much more.

Finally, exhausted and sweaty and stinky, smelling of fish, you arrive outside the observation room for the aquarium’s biggest tank. It’s star. It’s prize. The pearl of the east coast.

A similarly tired and sweaty and stinky Michael trudges up behind you.

“Hurry up,” you pant, resting your forehead on the cool metal of the door. You pull at your blue t-shirt, the weave sticky and clinging to your skin. Why couldn’t they have designed a better uniform? You could feel your trousers sticking to you as well. “Michael,” you call again.

“Coming, just- just give me a minute,” he huffs, loud footsteps growing closer. “Let- let me just catch my breath. Just a second.”

He sags onto you as he reaches the door, sweat slick on his face.

“Gross,” you mutter, reaching for the handle.

A hand drops on yours, heavy.

“Ow!” You jolt. “Dude, what’s your problem!” You cradle your hand as it stings, throbbing in time with your pulse. You blink back sudden tears.

“Sorry, sorry,” he rushes, sweaty face turning red.

“You should have thought of that before you tried to break my hand!”

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” He reaches for you and you flinch, backing away from the door. His gaze darts between you and the door, your hand and the door handle, before finally settling on your face. “I’m sorry, I am so sorry.”

“Then why did you do that,” you hiss, scowling.

He scratches his neck, eyes once more darting away before he forces them back on you. “It’s just, don’t you want to see the tank before we leave?”

“No.”

“Oh come on,” he groans. He says your name and then, “don’t you want just a glance. Just one. Crane isn’t here to tell us off, we can just take a peek and then go. Just a peek. A quick looksy. We won’t get a look like that again.”

“We can’t even go near the tank, it’s too dangerous by ourselves.”

“From above then, on the walkway.” At your raised brow, he rolls his eyes. “Don’t be such a wimp. Just a look. I’ll go by myself if you won’t come,” he says, moving away, away to the door leading to the main tank.

You start towards the door, glance back at Michael. Still aching fingers curving around the cool handle, you glance at him again. He was really going alone, just to look into the tank. By himself. Alone. No one to call for help to if he fell in. Hand curled around the handle, metal warming, you glance back after him again.

Idiot.

“Michael, wait up,” you call, running after him. He slips through the door, letting lose a brief bark of laughter. You and Michael. Michael and you. You always running after him as he did something stupid.

Slipping through the door, you slow as you follow him to the stairs leading to the walkways, one of two intersecting at the centre of the tank, high above the waves.

“Just a peek,” you call. “Just one, then we need to switch off the lights.” You pull yourself up the stairs, gripping the cold railings.

“Yeah, yeah, now come on!” he laughs.

Rolling your eyes, you hurry, water-proof boots thunking on the metal. “I’m coming, I’m coming.”

“Hah! Coming.”

“Idiot,” you say as you join him at the intersection. “At least be creative.”

“Hey, hey, just didn’t want to offend you, y’know.” One side of his mouth quirks up into a smile. “Women don’t like it, y’know. They like gentlemen.”

“And I suppose you’re an expert.” You smile back, leaning on the rib-high railing.

“That’s me,” he says as he joins you. “Michael Wellings, knower of women.”

You just snort.

For a moment, there’s silence as you both gaze down into the undulating waters of the tank. There is a dark shape, long and lean, just below the surface. It cuts through the water, twisting and turning, staying near the surface.

This is nice. Just like the old times. Well, not that old, but still. It was nice just… hanging out with Michael.

“Well, this was nice.” You turn to him, smile faltering at his stare, emotionless, his face blank. His face twitches, a barely there pull at his muscles before he smiles back, wide, teeth gleaming. “Michael-“

“So, um,” he stops. Another pull at his muscles, a twitch. A strain to his smile. “About, about last week, did you change your mind?”

“My mind? About wha-“

“Oh, y’know. My offer.”

Oh God, not this again. Your smile drops, a furrow developing between your brow. You can’t you can’t believe him.

Just, just men and their fucking audacity.

“I can’t believe you, dude, did you-“

“Just answer the question,” he interrupts, still smiling, still strained, still tense. He clenches his fists.

“No!” you explode. “No, I didn’t change my mind! Did you bring me up here just to fucking corner me. Get me alone and-"

“Why? I’ve been so nice and-“

“So what! Being nice entitles you to a relationship!”

Your stomach churns, the butterflies now fucking elephants. You clench and unclench your fists, face and ears hot, as if steaming.

“No! But, but you led me on-“

“I didn’t lead you on! I just wanted to be your friend! Your friend!” Your heart is thundering in your chest, a lump at the back of your throat, eyes stinging.

“Why can’t you just like me?!” He finally explodes, snarling. Face red and twisted, he’s unrecognisable. He strides forwards and you back away, jittery as he crowds you against the railing, the cold metal digging into your spine. Oh God, he was so angry. Furious. “I have been so nice to you. No one else wanted to hang out with you, no one except me! Me! And you fucking led me on! Am I not good enough? Am I-“

“Michael-“

“Shut up! Just shut the fuck up!” He’s panting, a vein throbbing on his forehead, his shout echoing around the room of the tank. You lean further back as he crowds in, neck craning over the side of the railing as he braces his hands on your shoulders, still pushing in.

He’s too close. Too close.

Eyes blurring, you grip the railing, jittery and shaky and weak. You need to calm him down. Get him to calm down and step back and give you come space. Your breath speeds up, head pounding to the beat of your galloping pulse.

“Michael-“

“It’s the fish, isn’t it?”

“Wha-“

“It’s the fish.” He steps back and you crumple into yourself, sucking in great heaves of air, gasping, shaky hands grasping at the cloth of your trousers at the knee. You need to calm down. Calm down.

But your breathing stays rapid, stays harsh and quick as you can’t breathe.

You grip your knees, nails digging in. Grounding you. “M- Michael, what are you-“

“Quiet!”

You glance up. He’s calmer, red seeping away, breathing heavily through his nose. He glances down, eyes arctic cold. Your breath hitches as he leans down, crowding your space. You press back, metal digging into your spine. “Michael, Mi-“

He grabs you.

You scream, thrashing in his grip. “Michael! Michael! Let go! Please, let go!”

He struggles up, arms tight and bruising.

“No, NO!” you sob. “Michael! No! Please.” You’re still screaming as you near the edge. This can’t be happening. This can’t be happening! He wouldn’t do this! You have to be dreaming. Just dreaming. You twist in his grip, buckling, heaving, scrabbling at his shirt. “Let go!” you scream. “LET GO!” You rake your nails down the side of his face.

“AGH!” he screams, stumbling, and for but a brief moment, his grip loosens.

You twist, thrashing, kicking, pulling at the iron grip around your wrists. “Let go! Let go! You fucking bas-“

He slams you into the railing. Suddenly weightless, top half hanging over the edge. Michael above pressing down, you scrabble at his shirt. “Michael! Michael, just-“

His grip on your wrist tightens for just an instant, a small fraction of eternity, a grain of sand in the hourglass of time.

He lets go.

You hit the water with a splash.

-

And that's all for today folks! The rest is up on ao3, hope you enjoy!!

[floriianthefool]

like the soft beating of a heart in a still chest (fit into me like a missing rib)

mer Bruce Wayne x Reader

Chapter Fifteen

-

You want your mom.

It hits you like a punch to the gut, a lance through the heart, a kick to the nose. God, you really want your mom and dad. Really, really, really want them.

A squeeze to your wrist pulls you out of it, pulls you out of yourself, and you tilt your head to the side to better see Dick.

He’s on the floor, in the sling, and he makes a clicking noise, with a whistle, before pointing at the spray bottle beside him. Ah, yes. You know what to do.

“Apologies,” you say, sinking out of the chair and into a puddle on the floor (it’s fine, you’d take a bath when you got home). Sitting criss-cross applesauce, you pick up the bottle, lightly spritzing your hand before moving to spray Dick with the salty water within. “Ronan,” you say, lolling your head to the side to catch the gaze of the guy who’d been watching yours and Crossed Arms Guy’s discussion, where he stands next to the large table-thing on which Bruce sits. He jolts, and Dick snickers at your side. “Give Bruce a spritz, we don’t want him to dry out.”

He looks apprehensive, eyes darting to Bruce who gives him an impressive glower from where he’s sat. Although, he’s not really sat. He rests his body weight on his hip, tilted ever so carefully so as to not put pressure on his spiney, bony fins. The table on which he rests isn’t big enough for him; over half his tail is hanging off the edge, the large dorsal fins spilling down to where they pool on the floor, the fins at his hips, flaring out at the sides, the fins along the curve of his pine in his tail, and the ones lower down, all hang off the table, or he’s on top of. The muscles in his arms, his chest, his abdomen, all are taut as he holds himself up, arms behind his back, veins raised as he grips the slippery sheet set on top of the steel table.

Ronan takes the spray bottle, giving it a light shake, before approaching and-

He jumps back, yelping, when Bruce snarls at him.

At your side, Dick bursts into laughter, shaking with the force of his amusement. You can’t help but crack a grin, snorting, and even Bruce gives a huff, the corners of his lips pulling up just a bit, just a fraction.

Rolling his eyes, Ronan moves close again. “Yeah, yeah,” he grumbles. “Just laugh it up, real funny. Real mature.” He sprays the mer with the salt water, over the scales and fins and skin. “God, and everyone was so terrified of you before. Should of known you were a real comedian.”

-

Short snippet, rest up on ao3

https://archiveofourown.org/works/49126258/chapters/132427303

[floriianthefool]

hi! i really cant find your fic on ao3, could you post the link, please?

Hi! Okay, so, here's the link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49126258/chapters/131699671

Further note, the fic is restricted so you need an ao3 account to view it. Have a nice day! 👍

[floriianthefool]

like the soft beating of a heart in a still chest (fit into me like a missing rib)

mer Bruce Wayne x Reader

Chapter Thirteen

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You sit down on your regular barstool, swinging your legs round to lightly knock your knees on the wood, your backpack resting by your feet. You order a mocktail, something without alcohol, and idly look around the bar, at the people at tables, light chatter filling the room. When the Pakistani bartender comes back, you say, “bit busier than normal, isn’t it?”

Shehrouz grins, dimples in both cheeks. He’s the same man from last month, the one you’d been unable to look at during your first visit to the bar because of how attractive he’d been. You find that it’s easier to look at him now that you’ve slowly gotten used to his heart-stopping beauty. “Much busier. Some critic came here, anonymously, and liked the stuff we had, wrote all about it in their newspaper column.”

“That’s great news!”

“It is!” he laughs before setting your drink before you. “Have a great night.”

“I will,” you call as he goes to someone else. He responds by giving you a thumbs up, before he takes the other person’s order.

You wait for Catherine, idly knocking your legs against the wood. It’s late, late enough for it to be dark out, dark enough the prospect of going home alone scares you. But you’ll push through it as you always do.

The door to the bar opens and at last, Catherine has arrived.

She’s wearing something similar to last time, but her hair isn’t pulled away from her face, instead hanging straight, framing her cheeks.

As she comes in, she spots you, a smile unfurling across her face, warm, and when she sits, you blurt, “it’s good to see you!”

“Good to see you as well. I was afraid you wouldn’t come back,” she says, resting her hands on the bar countertop.

“And I was afraid that you wouldn’t come back,” you say, turning to face her.

“A right mess is what the two of us are.”

“I agree.”

The both of you drift into silence, Catherine examining her fingernails whilst you just stare at the floor. Okay, enough, no more running around the topic. Just summon your courage and say it. Okay, you can do this.

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Short snippet, rest is up on ao3.

[floriianthefool]

Yo, a quick guide to my blog:

Anything that I post, which hasn't been reblogged or something, will be tagged #floriian. Stuff I've written will be tagged #florian: writes, fic specific stuff will be floriian: (insert fic name), asks will be floriian: asks, and short drabbles will be under the writing tag, but will also be tagged floriian: drabbles and ideas. That's all really. All my writing is also on ao3, the blog is just the personality behind it. That's all. 👍

[floriianthefool]

You can absolutely link the reference sheets in the fic! How exciting :)

Thank you!! 🤗

[floriianthefool]

like the soft beating of a heart in a still chest (fit into me like a missing rib)

Mer Bruce Wayne x Reader

Short snippet of chapter seven, rest on ao3 under the name 'floriian'.

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“Listen, stay alert. Stay careful.” He pauses, and you both hear it. The others coming, the silent observers ready to step in at any moment if things got dangerous. “They’re here. Now, time for you to get on with it,” he says, before beginning to walk away.

And so you do, with the observers’ eyes a sword over your neck, the searing judgement of Bruce’s gaze, and Dick.

He watches you from the centre of the pool. He’s given up on coming closer, trying to get you to respond, it seems, considering he didn’t come close today. But he watches, ear fins pressed against his head, low in the water with only his eyes above, hair in his eyes. He’s-

He’s upset.

He’s actually upset. Something hurt him. You’ve hurt him. You are hurting him.

You shake then, kneeling on the concrete, just a light shudder in your limbs, grip not strong enough on the bucket, and you drop it, settling it onto the concrete. God, you hurt him. You who promised yourself that you would never hurt anyone ever again. You who promised yourself you would never stand by as another suffered ever again.

Oh God, what have you done? You- you really hurt him. This isn’t supposed to happen. He’s not supposed to be upset. He’s supposed to be happy. He has Bruce. He has a friend. He’s not alone.

And then, suddenly, you see it.

Everything just clicks, as if the world is off-balanced, on its side, and now, now it just slides into place.

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Hope you enjoyed!!

[floriianthefool]

DICK IS GONNA LOSE HIS BABY COLORS??? NOOO,,, we raised a goth jock. i am inconsolable lol

Yep, he loses his baby colours. 🤗

[floriianthefool]

on longing, romance, and every in-between.

References:

1: painting by Filippo Lippi

2: John Koenig 'The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows'

3: painting by Anthony van Dyck, 'Portrait of Mary and William of Orange'

4: uncertain, will be added once found

5: painting by Luis Caballero

6: 'Elegy for My Sadness' by Chen Chen

7: a fragment of ourselves returning v, 2018 by Beatrice Wanjiku

8: Richard Siken

9: uncertain, will be added once found

10: Tumblr post by @mothicalspoken

11: uncertain, will be added once found

12: Joan Tierney

[floriianthefool]