#mermaid yn

[chibinightmares]

mer person go blub blub

if the Sims 4 has taught me anything, it's that I like females and female clothing to the point where I almost debated on downloading Sims Medieval CC but-- how-- tf. HOW DOES ONE MOD THE SIMS MEDIEVAL-- IT DOESN'T HAVE A DESIGNATED MOD SPOT SOB

anywho, enjoy this blurb for the day, blurb blurb :fish:

I tried to keep this one gender neutral but regardless, you're wearing a skirt thing since how else are you gonna cover up down there. T~T

Feeling the sunlight in your little naturalistic-looking pool-pond area helped remind you that it was early morning and thus, probably a good time to leave the warming water to start up the day.

Swimming up to the surface to watch your fingers push past the barrier of water that separated your body from inhaling normal oxygen and practically existing in large quantities of H2O, you reached forward to rest your scaled and webbed fingers along the smooth rock that lined your little habitat away from your housemates and their daily hijinks. It didn't take long for the odd yet familiar sensation to overtake your body as you heaved yourself onto the rocks and felt your body change from it's koi-like fins and tail to your humanoid lower half, which -surprisingly to the amazement and discovery of said housemates-, left their markings on your human skin, blending well to the point that anyone who didn't know what you were would just think that it was a bunch of birth marks.

Though, they weren't as brightly colored as your mermaidic features had been.

Shielding your eyes from the lazy morning sunlight, you couldn't help yourself from giving a light yawn.. something that was bound to happen considering you had just woken up from your ten hour sleep, and began to make your way back into the house which held those who valued your existence.. and you did, theirs.

Tightening up the small waterproof outfit you wore, which consisted of a loose yet long sleeved top which exposed a good portion of your chest with a skirt-like attachment which fell down to your knees. Regardless of your physical appearance, it was comforting if.. albiet.. a little girly at times with the colors your housemates constantly gave you. Yes, pink was nice every once in a while but come on. This color was too bright on the eyes and by god, it just screamed "i n f a n t".

..needless to say, you've had many arguments with them on the color design of your wardrobe.

Making your way to the coffee machine in the kitchen nearby the door you had just come in through, you briefly heard footsteps start to approach along with the sweet lited tune of the vampire who was your first, and proper, best friend since coming to live here in Windenburg.

" [yawn] Good morning, love.. how was the wake up?"

She popped on by with a soft kiss to your forehead as she moved over to help you with making the coffee that you had momentarily forgotten about. Lucielline Karnaca, otherwise just known by the nickname of Luciel, was a sweet woman who was also the backbone for keeping you afloat in the real world.. honestly, she's shouldered much of the troubles and feelings of homesickness you've cried to her about that you're half convinced that she's your free therapist-friend, considering a good portion of it seems to not phase her as deeply as other parts of your past.

As soon as the coffee got started and the warm smell of brewing beans wafted into the air, you could hear a loud yawning.. growl? The sound came from down the hallway and you were most certain that there was only one of two other people it could've belonged to.. considering one was a well-known night owl and sleepyhead and the other was someone who, despite taking almost as many naps as the first, loved being up and early. To.. "catch the day by it's heels", as he liked to say.

As if by calling the mischievous devil himself, a seven and a half foot wolfboy came into sight. A sight that caused Luciel to point to her head as if to signal that he had unconsciously shifted sometime during the long night.

It was almost comical how his ears drooped down and a light whine came out of his still mouth before he raised a finger and promptly went to hide behind the doorframe, only to come back as a more.. normal, height man. You could tell by the look on his face that Cain hated this part of himself and the nights he had to endure which lead up to the spontaneous transformations. You looked over to see Luciel pouring the reverse-transformed werewolf a cup of coffee in his cute little brown tree log mug, a memento from when he moved to the city from his little town in Moonwood Mill.

He grumbled something that sounded like a murmured "thank you" and took his cup over to the side of the island that stood in the middle of the kitchen for some sugar to add to his drink. Although Cain Moore wasn't quite the most affectionate guy you had come to know, he was certainly the bravest.. and.. reckless, of the bunch. Just looking at his clearly exhausted form gave way to a light smile to form on your face as you could recall the day they all saved you from the "home" you had lived in before.

..though the expression on your face caught a certain crimson eye as Luciel turned over with your own mug, a soft white cup with colored koi fish all around it.. fitting, as it was.

"I wonder how long Mr. IknowwhatI'mdoing is handling his morning.. Cain, could you go wake him up when you're done with your cup?"

Cain briefly looked up and then looked back down into his already partially emptied mug before shrugging and giving a nod.. rubbing his open hand behind his neck as you could see the cogwheels already start turning as to how he was gonna drag the spellcaster from his bed-- until he set down the cup and carefully walked upstairs, leaving you and Luciel to sit and watch the moment unfold with nothing but a brief peaceful silence and warm bleary-eyed sunlight at your backs.

Though the silence was mentioned to be brief and it was brief.

Upon hearing the ruckus that began to unwind from the upstairs bedroom, you saw Luciel quickly set down her mug and move to cover your ears.. knowing how well you handle loud noises and yelling between other people. It was an unfortunate trigger from a disturbing and tragic moment from your past.

As abruptly as possible and with as much shouting as possible, Cain eventually came back downstairs carrying a very agitated Reed in his arms.. though through Luciel's soft hands you could pick up some bits of what was being said.

"Put me down, you ungrateful dog!"

"Maybe if you woke up on time, we wouldn't have--"

"Oh shut it! Don't lecture me about time this and time that--"

It sounded like they were gonna be at it for almost the entire morning.. if it wasn't for the sweet voice that echoed around you.

"Are you two gonna bark about like this in front of our guppy?"

Obviously Reed had taken a second to look over to where you were standing, starting to shake a little before he shoved his way out of the werewolf's hands and over to you, where he lifted one hand of yours and immediately began to apologize as Luciel removed the makeshift earmuffs and continued on her with her own cooling cup of left behind coffee.

"Shit, shit, shit! I'm sorry-- It's just-- you know how I hate being woken up like this.. especially with how horrid a night we had."

You tilted your head slightly to the side, a little confused considering from what you had been told.. or at least figured, the night had been a little stressful but overall alright.

"Ah-- That's right.. we sent you off to bed early so you wouldn't have to deal with it.."

At this point Reed was just thinking aloud, though you could tell by a sharp tension in the room that he was about to say something he shouldn't of..

Something that had been discussed beforehand to never let you know of.

"Now, now, come on loves,"

You looked over to see Luciel had turned to face the three of you as you kept making small sips in your own drink as she handed off the final mug of the morning brew to the spellcaster who took the cup in hand with a more audible praise.

"We promised our little guppy a present, remember? So, you might wanna go up to your rooms and go grab it."

As expected from a vampire whose own father was considered to be one of the first, the authoritative tone she took quickly moved the other two into motion, what with Cain quickly setting down his mug by the coffee machine -as if asking for another mug when he came back down- and Reed just flat out setting his on the island. They muttered a few things here and there but they weren't something you could really understand.. though your attention was quickly taken aside when Luciel tilted your head towards her with another soft kiss to your forehead.

"I hope you'll be happy with what we all got you, my love.. after all, we should celebrate a morning where we all are together!"

[filez34]

when he fucking gets ya

[moonliched]

me and the bad bitch i pulled by getting tangled in a net!

[tadpolesonalgae]

Mer!Azriel x reader: The Dregs of Tragedy - Part 4

A/N: a full twenty minutes of italicising later…

Word Count: 3,848

-Part 3- -Part 5-

——————————————————————————————————————————————

The water cools the aching sizzle to your skin, firm, powerful arms wrapped around your waist, a single palm pressed between your shoulder blades.

Eyes crack open, and you suddenly realise you can’t breathe.

Muscles seize, locking as contractions rip through your body, spasming and clenching as you thrash against his constraints. Scarified fingers firmly stroke over your ribs, gills stuttering to life again as air is hauled down into painfully tight lungs.

Moments pass, calming your heartbeat, settling back into the powerful lines of his body, tail brushing idly against your bound legs, still taking care to monitor and measure. The bones in your legs ache, but not as much—little enough you find yourself wrapping your arms around his back, cheek remaining against his shoulder as you’re swept back into the depths of unconsciousness.

————

When you return to the world, he’s taken you above water, thumbing away mischievous strands of hair that had stuck to your forehead, plastering themselves to your skin.

“How do you feel?” He rasps lowly, forearm kept securely at the dip of your spine.

You blink wearily up at him, wishing to sink back into the water, finding the air too hot, too muggy. “How much longer?” You croak, head ducking into your shoulders, wanting to submerge yourself. “Likely a few more hours until the aches fade,” he responds, “you should stretch. It will help tomorrow, learning how to control your movements.”

That gets your attention, pushing up and away a little, enough so you can peer into his large, onyx gaze, able to see your reflection in his— Good Gods. You watch in the depthless black as fingers trace your skin, watching your own movements, pressing lightly to the lids of your eyes, now as round as his, equally dark. Ears stick from the sides of your head, like spines joined together by a thin layer of skin—similar to the webbed footing of sea creatures.

“What…?”

“It’s over,” he rasps, skin prickling beneath his touch as his hand soothes your back, sensitivity rippling across the area, a feeling of dizziness washing over you with such force you feel winded. His eyes widen marginally, hand snatching away, darting down to your side, vacating your spine hastily. Your pulse beats heavily in your ears, loud enough you could swear you hear the blood rushing. Breaths ease in and out, filling your chest as your heart begins to slow again.

“What’s over?” You manage, mind frazzled from the sudden torrent of sensitivity that’s racing across your skin, feeling tingly but…good. His throat rolls, and you mark it absently, eyes dropping briefly before returning to his, hardly aware of your own actions. He nods his head, and you follow his look. Instead of a pair of legs below you, lies a long, iridescent tail, sparkling with tiny, glittering scales.

You inhale sharply, startling as you automatically try to kick away from the foreign appendage but it moves with you. Azriel’s hands tighten on your hips, the rough pads of his fingers digging into the supple skin of your waist, keeping you from propelling yourself back into the barnacle-covered wall. Shakily, and with immense effort, you manage to still the writhing limb, finally settling to a halt.

“What— When did that happen?” You whisper hoarsely, hands subconsciously gripping the muscle of his upper arms, using him to anchor yourself. “While you were asleep,” he rasps in return. “You slept through it.” The edges of his mouth soften slightly, amusement gleaming in his dark eyes. “But I had hours left,” you argue quietly, “you said it would hurt, and would last until sunrise.”

“It’s past sunrise,” he answers, tail brushing against yours, making it flinch with curiosity.

You blink in surprise. “It’s…past sunrise…?” You repeat doubtfully, making the corners of his soft mouth quirk further. “Recently past,” he corrects, still with that gleam to his eyes.

“So it’s over…” you murmur hesitantly. “I’m not…it’s gone?” He nods, keeping you still in the water. “Are you ready to swim out?” He asks, and again you feel doubt flutter in the fit of your stomach at the raspy tone. “Swim out?” You question, brows fashioning themselves into a skeptical line. “Your muscles will begin aching and cramping shortly if they aren’t already, so it’s best to start using them to familiarise yourself with our movements.”

Not knowing how else to respond, you nod uncertainly—is he going to take you out from this cave?

“Remember to breathe,” he instructs quietly, before pulling you under, the cool sea water instantly soothing the warmth of your steadily drying hair. Gills flutter open, bringing in air via tiny capillaries, and he guides you down through the submerged tunnels. Though he doesn’t speak, you swear you can see amusement in his gaze while he swims leisurely through the water, watching as you gingerly pull yourself along the rock cave, tail occasionally twitching when you move to press your feet into the stone.

When you reach open water, you hesitate, peering out from the safety of the dark tunnel, staring into the open expanse of water before you—nothing but blue.

Scared?

You flinch, head snapping in his direction, shooting a scathing glare. His laugh echoes in your mind, hairs rising at the nape of your neck, something squirming in the pit of your stomach at the sound. What— How are you doing that? You think warily, fingers gripping tight to the jagged rock. He swims forward, and you instinctively want to shift further back into the cave but stand your ground.

How do you think we communicate underwater? He asks, hand beckoning you forward, out into the open. Doubtfully, you take it, palm pressing to his as you try to wiggle your tail. He blinks briefly, before his mouth softens almost imperceptibly, reaching out his other hand for you to hold.

I hadn’t thought about it, you answer honestly, focus directed on staring down at your tail, trying to connect the muscles to movement. So you can all freely communicate with one another? Anytime you want? You ask, shifting your gaze to meet his.

There are some requirements that need to be met, he replies, but for the most part, that’s right.

Your brow furrows. Why couldn’t you call for help when you were stranded? Surely you could have called for someone?

One of the requirements, he repeats, dodging the question. Curiosity licks up your spine, and you fix your gaze on him. You said we couldn’t have that conversation then, you remind him, but did you know my husband?

I thought we agreed he wasn’t your husband.

Your tail flicks sharply with irritation, sending you abruptly lancing forward. Azriel’s hands tighten on yours before swiftly moving to your shoulders, keeping you in place, moving so he’s slightly below you in the open water. A muscle in your jaw ticks, but you remember to keep your lips sealed shut. Did you know Alaric? You reiterate, fixing your gaze on him. In a sense, he replies casually, large dark eyes locked with your own, intensity simmering within the glittering onyx.

Stop avoiding the question, you seethe quietly, brow tightening. Give me a straight answer.

How about I give you an answer once you’ve figured out how to swim a little?

You glare at him begrudgingly, but relent. It’s not like you can force him to tell you. You’ll just have to go along with him for now. How do I do it? You ask, attempting to shift your tail in the motions he uses.

Azriel’s lips lift at the edges, before he’s shifting below you, hands coming to rest on your waist as if he’s lying on his back. Try just moving slowly, seeing what connects to where. Then become accustom with those movements. You send him a doubtful look, then try what he’s suggested. It sends you tipping forward, hands flying to press against his shoulders, keeping you from knocking him in the head with your own.

No sound enters your mind, but you feel his mirth whisper along your bones, warm and soft. It takes a while, but eventually you’re able to move how you want, but there are so many muscles it’s difficult to remember what goes where.

Now try rolling your tail, he instructs, and you stare at him blankly. Like I do, he reminds, a deep chuckle underlying his words. Azriel shifts again, and his hand brushes across the bare skin of your stomach. You bite back on the instinct to jerk away from the intimate touch. Most of your control will start here, he guides, palm splayed out, your pulse picking up as skin tingles. The muscles that connect to the tendon start here, and near the base of your spine. Then lower are the ones that help with angling your fins.

Before you can clock what he’s doing, his hand has slid lower, past your abdomen, moving to slip between— He pulls away, having spotted the way your muscles contracted. There’s nothing there for you to worry about, he reminds wryly, having you shoot him a heated look, lips pressed tight together. Keep your hands to yourself, you think back, having his own lips quirk.

He releases you, swimming out and away, coming to a stop the distance of about three small fishing boats away from you. Arms open tauntingly, hands beckoning with a gleam in his charcoal black gaze. Come over here, and I’ll answer your question, he challenges.

Are you serious? You snap, already feeling like you’re sinking despite not moving thanks to the air steadily flowing in and out of your lungs. Are you no longer interested? He asks.

Teeth grit together, and you instinctively open your arms to balance, feeling sensitive and overexposed in the water, no clothing concealing your skin from his intense eyes.

Slowly, you begin to shift your tail, moving haphazardly, with quick, jerking movements. This is ridiculous, you mutter, arms flailing as you try to keep in a straight line. You have to learn somehow, he counters, waiting patiently without hurrying you along. Allowing you to figure things out on your own.

After what feels like hours, the pads of your fingers brush over top his shoulders, broad and powerful palms settling around your waist, connecting you together. That was good, he says into your mind, you just need to practice, then you’ll be able to swim freely.

Don’t divert, you reply, staring at him, mind aching from frustration and concentration. His mouth shifts into a faint smile, soft and muted, and you become aware of the placement of his hands. The rough but gentle press of his fingers into the supple skin of your waist. You knew Alaric.

The smile slips away, mouth settling into a serious set. I did.

For how long? You ask, peering up into his onyx eyes.

I’ve known about his family line since humans settled there.

So a long time, you push quietly.

A long time indeed, he replies, signs of amusement long gone. Your brow dips at the seriousness of his expression. What happened? You ask, wariness lacing your tone. His features remain neutral, eyes unreadable, no matter how deep you try to peer into his mind.

Mer are difficult to kill for humans, but not impossible, he begins quietly. The scale he wears around his neck is one I know, and was familiar with. You wait for him to continue, but he seems reluctant to give anymore, and you feel hesitant to push. You have no idea how recent this is for him, only that you first noticed the scale a few years ago. Does time feel the same for him, or is a couple of years similar to mere months?

Was the person special to you? You ask quietly, wary of prodding old wounds.

As special as most of mer are to one another, he answers, as a dwindling species, we have to look after our own and take care of ourselves.

So how did you end up caught in that wire? His expression hardens, skin prickling at the look, unable to remove your gaze from his, a magnetic pull keeping you attached.

They’ve begun lacing wire with a poison that reacts to our kind. A nick alone could be fatal to a child with how badly it reacts with our magic, he explains calmly, ice underling his tone. And that wire had the poison on? You ask, already having guessed at the answer. He nods, and your eyes drop to his throat, voice still raspy from where it had sliced and constricted. It’ll heal, he says quietly into your mind, reading the question in your gaze. Or perhaps you’d already thought it aloud.

I’m sorry that happened to you, you think softly, still watching him silently, unable to look away. The pads of his fingers press a little harder into the softness of waist, but you don’t try to wriggle away. I’m sorry you ended up with a husband like him, he replies, having your features sour. But then they soften a little. I don’t think it was all bad, you murmur. Azriel’s brow narrows, peering down at you.

Don’t try and make excuses for him, he warns lowly, you didn’t deserve someone who hurt you.

I wasn’t going to make excuses for him, you reply tersely, features shifting to match his own before relaxing. But I wouldn’t have gotten out otherwise.

He watches you silently, an indiscernible expression upon his features, something flickering through his gaze at your admission.

Maybe it isn’t all bad.

————

Much to your irritation, he’d made you swim most of the way back to the cave system, saying it would help to get as much practice in as possible to help keep the aches at bay. At least until your body is fully healed from the sudden change. He’d taken you through another series of tunnels, leading deeper and deeper, going slowly to make sure you didn’t crash into any of the walls.

The cave opens up into a large cavern, and sea water nearly fills your mouth, fighting to resist the urge to part your lips in awe.

Before you is a magnificent cavern, lit by glowing little creatures that stick to the walls, multi-coloured coral scattered across the sandy bottom like a hand-knitted blanket. A beautiful arrangement of aquamarine blues, waterlily pinks, and starfish oranges. Seaweed coats the walls in thick patches, waving like tall grass with the current that passes through the tunnels. Speckled, shimmering fish dart in and out from smoothed out stones littered in mother-of-pearl shells, shimmering like silver as colourful tails flicker with energetic life. Across the floor tiny crabs scuttle, painted a pretty red like the horizon on a clear sunset.

What is this place? You manage to think, eyes darting repeatedly from one side of the cavern to the other, each time picking out new things to peer at and examine. The edges of Azriel’s mouth lift into a smile, and he swims deeper, evidently familiar with the haven. I made it, he responds, passing through a patch of seaweed, small fishes already gathering and moving with him, tiny flashes of silver as they match his speed and direction.

You made it? You echo, staring at him.

Well, some of it was already here, he replies, and you can hear the low laughter in his tone, deep and rich. I didn’t carve the cave out, that was already here. Same as the coral. But the creatures and a few other other things—I brought those in.

You stare in wonder at the cave, so beautiful and thriving with life and an undercurrent of energy. It’s amazing, you think as he swims up to your side, making to bring you further into his world—still at the lip of the tunnel. There’s another cave like this, deeper out at sea, he thinks, and you manage to rip your gaze from the cavern, sensing what he’s about to say is important. It’s called the Rainbow, he says quietly, it’s much larger than here. The coral is thicker, life is more prominent, and the whole place glows.

Eyes blink, trying to comprehend a place more beautiful. Is that what made you want to create this? You question softly, meeting his onyx gaze. The Rainbow? He nods, inky hair swaying with the motion. Come, he says, there are more creatures at the bed.

You don’t have it in you to resist as he swims to be above you, hands gently latching to your hips as he helps guide you lower, able to see more flashes of colour as life becomes apparent. More crabs scuttling, tall and spiralling sea shells that gleam with pearl, strange purple blobs that have a slightly red hue and look gooey and gelatinous. Starfishes are plastered to the rock, colourful plants that look like tubes sticking out while fishes dart about the bed, stirring up wisps of sand.

How long did this take? You ask him, managing to swim lower as he releases you, lips stretching when you peer beneath a rock, finding a red and blue speckled octopus napping in the shade. Centuries, he responds, watching as you explore, pulse thumping in his chest. It’s still developing, and will continue to do so long after I’m gone.

You swim further, selecting a shell to pick up, examining it in the pretty lights, watching how the colours shine across its surface. A red, white, and black striped fish swims past, and you follow after it, using your hands to scale the rock instead of your tail.

Try swimming, he reminds, chuckling. You won’t get any better if you crawl everywhere like that. You shoot him a glare over your shoulder, the fish vanishing from sight in the brief moments you looked away. It’s been less than a day, you snap, pulling yourself along the rock stubbornly. I’m allowed to take a break from practicing. Besides, if I solely use my tail, I’ll end up looking like you.

Looking like me? He asks, mirth clear, and you feel the rush of water as he swims by, dipping behind a nearby rock. Yes, you reply, narrowing your eyes at where you last saw him, but you’re steadily realising there are so many spots to hide, with the large stones, the coral, and the thick seaweed.

And what do you mean by that? He asks lowly, and you look behind yourself, checking to see if you can spot him, the water feeling eerily still without his visible presence. You turn to survey the expanse before you, and he glides up from a dip between the rock you’re perched on, coming to a stop before you, but you refuse to yield your ground. I’m a woman, you say, as if it’s self-explanatory. You certainly are, he replies, eyes gleaming with something that has your skin prickling. Tightening. It takes quite a lot of effort not to pull back, to keep your ground when he’s so close before you. But I don’t understand what that has to do with not being able to move efficiently.

You roll your eyes, stomach fluttering as tiny fishes dart around your hair, brushing against the bare skin of your arms. I don’t need all those muscles, you say as nonchalantly as possible, giving him a dismissive look. Maybe not all of them, he concedes, a faint smile on his lips, pushing forward a little. But some of them, if you want to swim.

Of course I want to swim, you counter, wondering if you imagined him coming forward. Just not now. My stomach hurts from all the movement.

That’s good, he responds, that faint smile still playing on soft lips.

It’s painful, you reply, frowning. I don’t like it.

It means you’ve used them, he says, and you swear he moves forward again.

I suppose I don’t have the best relationship with pain, you think, then blink, eyes widening. The smile slides from his face, and you tense. You weren’t— I just mean pain is pain. Obviously I don’t like it.

You make to turn away, but rough, scarified palms slide overtop your hands, keeping them gently but firmly pressed to the smooth stone, preventing you from breaking off from him.

You don’t have to lie to me, he says, watching you silently, eyes locked with your own, and you once again find yourself unable to pull away. You don’t have to hide it from me.

Because you saw him try to kill me? You manage wryly, fingers pressing against a small group of barnacles.

Because you’re out, he replies, hands sliding to fully encompass your own, thumbs swiping at the skin.

Head dips down, peering at the way his hands have latched over yours. The flecks of colour in the rock, speckled about.

Will you tell me how you got those? You ask, trying to change the subject. His hands tense over yours, and his attention slides downward also, the two of you observing how your palms are intertwined. This isn’t a conversation for now, he says, and you feel more than see his walls building up. Hands pull away from yours, and before you can help yourself you’ve moved forward. Palms shakily pressing overtop his own, reversing your previous position so the pads of his fingers are the ones against the small group of barnacles.

Was it from humans? You ask silently, peering into those deep, dark eyes. Is that why you don’t like us?

I got them from other mer, he replies shortly, but quietly, tension clear in the powerful frame of his figure. Shock sparks in your chest, blinking as you stare at him. A—mer? A mer did that to you? But aren’t those—

Burn marks.

Your throat rolls, and your hands pull away, enough to reveal the scarred flesh beneath. His gaze weighs into you, emotion heavy but you’re unable to pinpoint exactly what it is.

My—… Alaric once set my hair on fire, you admit quietly, peering down at his hands so you don’t have to see what’s in his expression. He tipped the table over, and a candle got mixed up. I had to have it cut short because such a large portion was burned off. Thumbs swipe across the rough skin, how he’d done for you, and you manage to meet his eyes. Depthless and dark.

Peer quietly at the warped flesh, twisted and swollen from the burning lick of flames, sizzled and popped to mould it into what it is now.

You manage to meet his gaze, deep and swirling, like a whirlpool, suctioning you deeper into his mind. I’m sorry that happened to you, Azriel, you think, holding his attention, fingers still settled over his. Something beginning to shift and soften between you. Something quiet and ineffable.

He swallows, but nods briefly. I’m sorry your husband did that to you.

No smile raises your lips, but amusement curls with your tone. Ex-husband.

Right, he returns, something dancing in those onyx eyes of his. Ex-husband.

——————————————————————————————————————————————

general taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @amygdtjhddzvb @sfhsgrad-blog @needylilgal022 @hannzoaks @hnyclover

az taglist: @azrielshadows1nger @jurdanpotter @positivewitch @nightcourt-daydreaming @assassinsblade @marvelouslovely-barnes @v3lv3tf0x @kalulakunundrum @vellichor01 @throneofsmut

tdot taglist: @mika-no-sekai-blog @blueeclipsepaperstudent @lalaluch @v3lv3tf0x @acourtofbatboydreams @coureurs-de-bois9

[d4rksusuke]

Hello it's me again with my monthly appearence hehehe today I offer you a drawing inspired by the fanfiction "There Are Many Benefits" by moonliched on AO3

you can also check out their Tumblr accounts @moonliched/@moonliched-art!!

I hope you enjoy my little doodle heheheh

[piowasthere]

1. marine biologist // introduction

oh yeah, it's Y/n time baby!

nothing like a heart attack caused by a fish on your first practical day on the job, ey?

[prompt list by mossypidder]

[kohhomaru]

Heppy mermay!

[feralmoonlight]

Scribble of the sea boys uwu

[or13m]

a couple of pages from "Baited Breath, a FNAF comic"

[here-2suffer]

Hey yall guess what

Since I couldn't get the 4th chapter out this month, I will do one last thing for you guys in Mermay. Behold.... THE BOYS

I stayed up to the ungodly hours of the morning figuring out how to make these, and coloring the boys for their pfps. I hope you guys enjoy this, and I'm very sorry for the delay.

Also gonna tag people that have shown interest in Fish Tales before here just so yall can see lol:

@total-fandom-tr45h @justaduckarts @peste-bubonica @laymedowntorest @icedmetaltea @remidraws @thesilentnobody9 @kattramen @yakamashi-ao3 sorry if I forgot anyone but these are who comes to mind

[valleyfthdolls]

At this point I'm just going to start blocking every daycare attendant artist in the fnaf tags. I literally blocked the character tag because y'all were insufferable and I'm still getting them

[filez34]

mandatory play time

EVERYONE GO READ "Call of the Abyss" ON AO3

design and fic belongs to @bri-does-art

ost to this prolly is: "Rain World OST - Kayava"

[moonliched]

some other stuff from my fnaf mer au✨ turns out the method of drawing Y/N's breathing mask and Chica's beak are pretty much identical. also this was my first time drawing Roxy!

[slumpcake]

Aww dang it lol! You beat me to it. I’ve also been thinking about a super hero au with the same character ideas (Y/N being the villain and Sun and Moon as heroes).

I love yours more cause it looks more light hearted than what I had planned 🥰

Also, I LOVE their designs! And Sun and Moon’s hero names are AWESOME!

Does Y/N have a villain name? Or are they just called Y/N?

Thank you so much homie!!!

I hadn’t planned on giving YN a villain name actually! Most cartoon mad scientist characters tend to go by “Dr. [Insert name here]” so you could probably just call them “Dr. YN.” But if anyone has any neat villain name ideas for them, I’m all ears.

[tadpolesonalgae]

Mer!Azriel x human!reader: The Dregs of Tragedy

A/N: Something about writing Az as a creature other than Illyrian just makes him end up being so cold and cruel and I have literally no idea where that comes from?

Warnings: Bitta’ blod, Az saves reader in a way, you have an awful husband in this

Word Count: 4,970

-Part 2-

——————————————————————————————————————————————

“If your husband hears you talking like that, he’ll string you up with the rest of them.”

You flinch at the imagery, but stay firm—were you even a fisherman’s wife without nerves of steel and a stomach made of iron? “I don’t care what you say. It’s barbaric either way.” Joanne shakes her head, hair pulled back from her face as the carving knife splits the fish’s head from its body. “It’s barbaric what they do to us, sweet lass. A sailor’s death will never be kind, but to be dragged below the waters by those clammy hands is not a fate I would wish on many.”

Quirk a brow, lips tugging up at the edges. “Would Hildebald be among those few many?” You ask, making the fishmonger’s wife shoot you a sharp glare.

“Do not ask me to speak poorly of him. The gods listen between breaths.”

“The gods lay back while we are beaten and bloody,” you say, carefully lowering your voice. “I fear them as much as you do, but I will not succumb to terror. Virtues protect me, I carry honour close and pray to valour for my husband’s safe return, but that does not mean I would be unhappy should he be snatched from my side.”

Joanne runs her eyes over you appraisingly, face carved deep with age lines, hair wispy and grey. “Listen closely, lass,” she instructs, “we have little power in what happens to us, don’t squander the hand you’ve been dealt, for many others would gladly take your place. Your husband works hard at sea, and has been parted from his gold to pay for you—and we all know your father put an unreasonable dowry on your head.” Her misty sea-foam eyes flicker about, on constant edge should the wrong ears catch the conversation. “Just be grateful for what you have, lass. Look to the skies and you’ll go falling over your own feet,” she hisses, a clear end to the conversation.

You open your mouth to speak back—just because he’s paid for you doesn’t mean he can bruise you bloody—but her watery blue eyes skip over your shoulder, just as a hard, heavy palm settles atop the skin, pulling you in close to a tall, strong body, trained and battered from the seas. “Fish for supper?” He asks jovially—it must have been a good sail. Turn into him, like a creature seeking protection from a vastly superior beast, tilting your head to peer up at your husband. “I got a fresh loaf from the bakers so I was thinking of a soup,” you say, pushing up onto your tiptoes to deliver a chaste kiss to his rough skin, coarse hairs scratching your cheek. “They even added in a fresh lemon to go with it all.”

Light, sharp blue eyes cut to you, something passing behind them that has your stomach sinking. “Of course they did,” he mutters, “it’s in their nature to covet another man’s catch.” He shakes his head, arm tightening around your ribcage almost painfully. “Joanne, you can accompany my wife to the bakers from here onwards,” he drawls out the order like he’s stood behind his ship’s wheel. He turns back to you, fingers stroking along the underside of your breast, eyes glinting. “A hag ought to even out the balance of your beauty,” he murmurs, and you attempt not to cringe as his hot, fishy breath fans across your face.

Instead you dip your head in a demure show of embarrassment, ducking away from the smell. “You find me beautiful because you spend your days at sea with only fish to admire,” you dodge the compliment like you’re expected to, the picture of humble grace. “I assure you, I am nothing much at all.” That seems to please him, squeezing you a little too tightly. “You’re the most beautiful girl in the town,” he says, greasy hand stroking your side. “That is why you are mine. I would not have picked you out if there was a better catch.”

You paste a shy smile onto your lips, tucking away a stray hair over your ear, gripping the wicker basket tighter.

The night will be unpleasant but blessedly short.

————

The surf is calmer today, fog rolling across the grey-blue landscape.

You shouldn’t be down at the cove so early in the morning, but you hadn’t wanted to sleep beside him for a moment longer. Desiccated, scratchy skin pressing to your back, a meaty arm pressed around your waist. So you’d come down to the alcove to clear your head, allowing the crips, salty air to clear your mind before the day ahead. Though sailors will soon be passing by, so you can’t afford to wait too long.

Release a heavy breath, staring out at the deep blue of the ocean, long since desensitised to the scent of brine and seaweed that makes inlanders cringe. The waves are slight, appearing almost still as you survey the view. Had it not been for the steady babble and crush of water, you might have believed the world to be frozen.

Your mind drifts to tales of the mer, stories told to every child to encourage fear and awe into their hearts. Of their cold and clammy hands, capable of pulling fully grown sailors from the docks should they stand too close to the edge. Of their damp, bluish skin, like an eel’s on their chest and arms, but scaled and sharp on their long, thrashing tails. Of their razor-sharp teeth, used to shred and tear at their prey before finally doing away with the catch.

But more than any other feature, folk melodies revolve around their deadly song. Said to be sung so sweetly it could lure any sailor to wish for his end to be at their cold, wet hands. To be dragged below the water’s still surface into their dark and murky layer, fed enough air to be kept alive and aware but never enough to resist as the flesh is torn from their bones.

You move forward, walking along the rickety platform, wanting to look down into the water at the end of the pier, despite the danger you’ve been warned about. The water is still high, but has already begun draining away, the tides lowering. You hum absently as you approach, an old tune that’s often strummed around celebratory bonfires, logs crackling and embers burning bright against the wet blues and greys of the sea-town.

Something catches your eye, ripples coming out from beneath the pier you’re stood on.

Brows furrow, and you walk forward quietly. Maybe a sea creature is hiding beneath the platform. A smile tugs at your lips at the idea—you’d like to see more of the animals when they’re alive instead of with their head severed into a slimy, bloody basket.

You lower to your knees as you come to the edge, muffling your steps so as not to scare it away, if there really is something there.

Peer over the ledge, gaze going to one of the two beams supporting the platform.

Eyes latch with coal black, ringlets of damp, silky hair curling over blue-tinted skin.

Lips part in a scream as you jerk back from the edge, scrambling away before it’s spindly hands come groping for your legs. Heart pounding, you thumb free the small dagger from a dress pocket, gripping it between trembling hands as you frenetically eye the waters below. Waiting for it to attack one side of the pier…to try and drag you under so it can feed on your flesh.

Breath clouds, tendrils curling from your lips as you tremble, replaying the depth of blackness in your mind, the deathly tint of its skin, the unnatural beauty of the lethal creature.

Nothing.

Utter silence.

Shakily, you get to your feet. Had you imagined it? There’s no way.

Heart pounding, you again make your way to the ledge, prepared to toss yourself back should its hands suddenly rise from the water. Swallow, gripping the dagger tight as you shift closer, enough to see a head of dark, slightly curled hair. No doubt the drying sea salt bringing out the waves.

Ease a shuddering breath as you again meet its eyes—charcoal black and utterly depthless. Designed to see in the deepest parts of the mighty ocean. That’s when you notice the tinge in the waters surrounding— him. It’s a male face. Dark lashes, smooth skin, cropped hair.

Eyes dart back to the sea, bleeding red around him.

You note the fishing wire that’s gotten him tangled to one of the beams upholding the platform.

He’s been caught.

Lips part in relief—he can’t hurt you. And yet— “You’re not singing…” you murmur to yourself, eyeing the soft-looking mouth of the creature.

Features coil, twisting themselves into something frighteningly fitting as lips pull back from teeth—dozens of tiny, shredding teeth, set in two neat rows with noticeably protruding incisors. You flinch back on instinct, but remaster your fear, reminding yourself he can’t move. Swallowing, you thank the gods for your iron stomach as you return to the edge. Dagger still gripped tight.

The wire has wrapped itself around his torso from what you can see—probably having gotten tangled first with the creature’s tail, then only constricted tighter as he tried to escape. Much like seaweed.

Brow tightens as the waves continue washing at the shore—the ocean’s draining. What will happen to him, if he doesn’t break free? His lips look dry now you’re peering closer, lines running beneath the stunning black of his vicious eyes. They can survive without being submerged in water for days, but the wire… How long has he been here for?

His mouth opens, and you freeze, tales of their deadly song returning, but instead of the painful melody you were expecting, what comes out is a rasping screech. Garbled and furious—a wet hissing noise, as if he’s seething his warnings.

There’s wire against his neck. Already slicing deep against the powerful column of his throat, stopping much of the noise escaping. You stare down at the creature, tangled and caught. A mighty beast that’s been stripped of any way to protect itself. You wonder if it fears or loathes the helplessness. Perhaps a little of both.

You peer into its eyes, the vicious fury contained within, like he’s already promising to repay the pain you’ll inflict on him tenfold.

Your throat rolls as you stare at him. He’ll die if you leave him—it’s a miracle of some kind he’s managed to remain undetected for so long, though you suppose not many people come down here. But what if someone else finds him?

A queasy feeling tightens around your throat as you imagine the tide sweeping out, gravity pulling the weight of his body down into those slicing wires, forcing him to rest in the tangle until the water returns to yield him to near weightlessness. But what if one of the sailors finds him?

You know what they’ll do. What they already do to the mer they catch. How they’re mutilated, then strung up in the air for the salty winds to whip at, for birds to peck at, slathered in fish blood and other small carcasses to draw creatures in. Sometimes fires are lit beneath their long, powerful tails. Slowly cooking them alive.

Hadn’t you been protesting against the brutality just the other day?

The mer struggles again, water rippling as he writhes, so certain he can break the man-made wire holding him. So desperate to do so.

You look around once…twice. Check no sailors have yet begun to pass over the paths that lead beside the shore. Slowly lower to your knees, gripping the dagger. Black eyes pick out the steel, and he thrashes more, hissing violently as his features are again carved into that picture of grizzly vehemence. Exactly how the stories have told them to be.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” you say clearly, slowly. If he’s smart enough to capture and kill fully grown sailors, he should have something to pick up on tone. Some kind of sense that will tell him it’s better to let you near than to go through with the fate he’s seemingly been dealt.

He hisses again, still baring those teeth at you, but he’s no longer struggling. No longer bringing the wire deeper into his body. It’s a good start. You just need to make sure he doesn’t grab you once cut loose. What a foolish way to go.

You breathe deeply as you move closer, reaching forward.

His muscles tense, tension tightening his shoulders as the blade nears him—it would be easy for your hand to drag the steel across his throat, but the very idea makes you uncomfortable. Watching murder happen and doing it yourself are still very different. You don’t think you could quite stomach that.

“I need you to keep still,” you say gently, clearly. If he makes a sudden movement with the blade so close… You slide it beneath the wire, placing the sharp edge to the restraints, pulling in attempts to get it to break. He hisses suddenly, and you realise it’ll be cutting into his throat so you change tactics, gently sawing until it snaps free.

The mer coughs, wet gasps being hauled down into no-doubt powerful lungs, spluttering as his gills spasm violently.

You can only allow him a little time before setting to work on the next one, further below the water, binding his shoulders tight to the post. Settle closer to the platform, aware of how his eyes silently track every angle of your movements. Whether to make sure you don’t attack, or to plan his own, you don’t contemplate. Just reach deeper, aiming for the next wire. Repeat the gentle sawing motions until that too snaps off.

A gush of relief washes over you as his upper body moves free from the bloody mess, but then he hisses and jerks back, pressing to the beam. His noise sounds strained instead of violent. A noise the product of lacerating pain. There’s most likely more wire tangling his tail, but— you can’t reach that.

The unearthly face tilts, dark eyes boring into you with urgency and— Great Gods. Hunger.

“What are you doing down here?”

You flinch at the rumble of your husband’s voice and the creature goes preternaturally still. As if he also recognises the sound. You could swear his skin leeches of the bluish tint, becoming colder and more translucent. The dagger drops from your hands, bouncing loudly on the wood of the pier. Settles at the edge, and you jerk away, turning to face the towering man approaching you.

Panic grips you as you spy a broad, pale blue hand rising silently from the water. Reaching for the blade.

You shift, angling your body to block him from your husband.

“I wanted to see if I could see the sea bed,” you explain hurriedly, managing what you hope is an appropriately embarrassed smile. “Sadly the tide’s in, so I think it’s too deep. Do you know when it’ll be out again?” You ask, trying to distract from the position he’d found you in. His brow narrows, heavy boots clunking over the rickety pier. “You shouldn’t be so near to the waters,” he mutters, moving forward and you hastily get to your feet, the dagger gone from the platform.

Bruising, meaty hands roughly grip your upper arms, forcefully turning you to face him. The smell of grease and hot fish washes over you and you fight your cringe. “Yesterday it was the bakers, today it’s the seas,” he mutters, “it’s not right for you to be this close to—” Follow the direction of his gaze, down to the edge of the pier.

He pushes you to the side, allowing him to galumph past, staring down to the post the mer had been tied to.

Watch his bulky silhouette as hands pull into flesh-beating fists, your bones already aching. “Is everything okay?” You ask softly, shaking your head to yourself. “I’m sorry for taking so long to make breakfast—I got sidetracked on my usual pathway. Let’s return home.”

He doesn’t move, the world silent save for the steady wash of waves at the shore. Your husband turns then, brows pulled into a hateful bunch atop sea-roughened skin. “Why were you peering into the waters?” His voice is low and blunt, eyes sharpening to glacial blue, regarding you with a hint of suspicion. You smile, “I told you, I was looking to see the bottom but the tide’s not yet out.”

Heart is pounding—could he have already known the mer was there? The bluish skin had almost drained, as if paling with fury.

Then he’s walking to you with intent, hands brutally gripping your upper arms, tight enough the bones trembling beneath his sailor’s grip. “Why were you peering into—”

Something gleams over his shoulder, grazing the muscle of his bicep as your dagger flies past, blood spitting onto the deck as the blade lodges into the wood. Cold blue eyes freeze, snapping from the weapon dug into the pier back to you. “That’s yours,” he accuses, lowly. “You set it free, didn’t you?”

“I don’t—”

His hand smacks across your cheek before you have time to prepare, the corner of your mouth stinging as something hot trickles down your chin. Lips part, raising your fingers to the drip-drop of blood.

“You set the damned thing free,” he rages, practically snarling with fury. Before you can do anything against it, he’s turning, gripping you so tight you’re afraid your arm will splinter. “Björn! Bertram!” He bellows, calling to the sailors that are no doubt beginning their morning routines. He’s muttering to himself, about capturing it again before it can get too far out to sea, dragging you along behind him.

You stumble, tripping up as you go, almost bumping into him as you’re roughly pulled back along the pier. He whirls on you then, backhanding you hard enough you almost careen backward. But his meaty hand is encompassing your throat, strangling tight as he pulls you close enough for his greasy, fishy beard to coarsely scratch your skin. “Stupid, foolish hag,” he snarls out, “you’ll be strung you and up cooked alive for that.”

Your stomach churns as you struggle, nails clawing at his knuckles, scratching deep enough to draw blood, more of it drip-dropping onto the rickety pier. You gasp for breath, rasping and clawing at his hand until he snarls, shoving you back. Tripping over your skirts, the back of your head smacks against the wood hard enough to have your vision blurring, white spots dancing through your view. Billowing grey clouds wash overhead, looking about to rain down.

Weakly, you push up from the damp platform, in time to see your husband pluck the dagger from the ground—what had tripped you up. Eyes flash with fury, flipping the hilt menacingly as he advances, drawing out the fear. You whimper, scrambling back until your hand slips over the edge, almost sending you tumbling into the murky depths. “I should have known,” he spits out, “there were whispers about your thoughts. I should have paid them more mind.” The dagger glints in his hand, so quickly turned to your own throat.

“I’ll take my time with you,” he mutters, “take the fingers that cut the fish free.” Flips the blade in his hand as he towers over you. Muscles coil taut, unable to move, unable to fight as the steel glitters beneath the overcast light. He moves to grab you—to take your fingers, to cut you up.

A deafening screech sounds, rasping and raw, then a pale blue shape leaps from the water. Jaws are unlocked to a monstrous angle, neat rows of sharp, flesh-shredding teeth bared as that giant tail thrashes with the force to propel him clean from the water. The muscled weight of the mer crashes into your husband, knocking him from his feet as he’s stolen beneath the water’s surface faster than you can blink.

The sea ripples in his wake, then calms to nothing, continuing to lap at the shore, hiding all traces of the deadly attack.

“Mer!” A bellowing voice roars, and your eyes are dragged to the beginning of the pier, two hulking sailors—Björn and Bertram—stood among the heavy, rolling fogs that have seemingly thickened out of nowhere. Their weighty boots thud on the deck as they begin storming forward, weapons gripped tight in case of another unseen attack.

Your heart beats in your mouth, fear and panic sweeping you under as you freeze with terror. You shift to move back, but have forgotten you’re already at the edge, hand slipping back over the ledge of the pier.

Eyes go wide, unable to scream as powerful, cold-blooded hands wrap beneath your arms, hooking over your shoulders and you’re dragged down beneath the sea’s surface. Water swallowing any trace of struggle as it seals overhead.

You thrash and writhe, hands shoving out as you try to free yourself from the iron grip of the mer that’s dragging you down to his sea bed. He turns you around, then cold, soft lips are settling over your own, breathing fresh air into your lungs. Tasting slightly coppery. You don’t question how it’s possible—they’re creatures of magic—just greedily gulp the extra seconds of life down as you feel his powerful body ripple with motion, muscle working as the large tail propels you deeper into the ocean, stolen away from the sea-town you’d grown up in.

Fear seeps into your blood as images of his tiny, shredding teeth flash through your head, the charcoal of his large, onyx eyes.

You should never have risked freeing him. He’s as cruel as the songs warn.

————

Spluttering as you break the surface of the underwater cave, your eyes ache from being squeezed shut for gods know how long.

Gulp down air to fuel your panic driven heartbeat, briny salt water stinging as tears drip down your cheeks. You quickly blink them away, unable to dry your eyes thanks to the cold water having soaked your clothes, down to the bone. His tail moves in strong motions, keeping the both of you afloat, yet he hasn’t bitten down. Mouth remains shut, as if waiting for you to ready.

Peel open your gaze, instantly latching onto his dark eyes, glittering black as he watches you silently. The oddly shaped ears either side his head twitch, looking like the webbed feet of some of the marine birds you’ve seen. Birds that have feasted upon mer flesh when it’s been strung up to be picked at.

As soon as you can manage, you’re trying to writhe away from the creature, but the stories haven’t done their strength justice. It’s like being held by stone, muscle as unforgiving as the cold, jagged rocks the surf crashes upon. Dread sets in, spiralling your mind as you thrash against his grip, desperate to spare yourself from the horrible fate of his gently prying teeth.

“Let go of me,” you plead, trying to squirm out of his hold, eyeing the hewn rock that makes up the underwater cave, seemingly being kept in an air bubble. Gaze returns to gleaming black in time to see as a transparent film blinks across his eyes, making you startle, yipping as you flinch away in horror. Teeth catch on the edge of your mouth with the recoil, reopening the small wound, courtesy of your husband, vision again blurring with the sting.

You struggle as he starts moving, but he’s pushing you toward the ledge of the rocky cave, not dragging you below—deeper into his layer. Breathing stutters as your back presses into the jagged rock, his blue-tinted hands spanning your hips, turning you around and pushing up from the cold sea. You scramble away so quickly you graze your knee on the sharp rock, splitting skin as blood begins seeping into your skirts.

Wince at the pain, but push as far back as you can, finding the stone now to be surprisingly smooth, as if carved away. Breathe heavily, shivering against the icy temperature of the submarine cave, hugging your limbs close by as the mer watches silently. Tears helplessly drip down your cheeks, teeth chattering as you try to put a stop to your crying. You’re a fisherman’s wife, for goodness sake. Were a fisherman’s wife?

Throat rolls as you push back into the smooth wall of the cave. “What did you do with my…with Alaric?” You manage through trembling jaws, lungs spasming with the cold.

The question appears to aggravate the mer, lip curling at the name alone. “He’s alive,” the male rasps, throat straining to create the syllables of speech. You stifle your surprise—yes, you’d known they could sing, but you’d assumed it was in some ancient tongue, fitting for their ancient species. Swallow down your fear, curling tighter in on yourself. “Why have you brought me here?” You manage, voice thick and scared even to your own ears.

He swims closer, resting powerfully muscled arms upon the rocky ledge, tail swaying idly behind him in the lagoon. It’s then you truly take in the cave he’s brought you to, kept alight by luminescent greens and blues, crystals lining the ceiling, the sea lighting up with every small movement, as if mixed with melted moon wax. Tendrils of breath curl before you in misty swirls, teeth chattering more as shivers wrack your body, not all of them solely from the frigid air.

“You saved my life,” he rasps, jaw resting atop his forearms as he watches you.

“So you trap me in a cave?” You manage, trying to fight off the feeling of your fingertips beginning to frost over. He merely blinks at your question, that translucent film sliding back and forth just beneath his lids. “So I saved yours,” he correctly neutrally, a hint of arrogance in his dark eyes.

Brows knot together in confusion as you stare at the male. “You—… You’ve trapped me.”

“Your husband would have killed you,” he rasps, cold eyes sharpening with what you can only assume is hatred. “I saved you.” You shake your head, unaware of your lower body. “You took him because you were hungry. It served your own purposes.”

Incisors glitter beneath the icy blues of the cave, gleaming as his lip curls. Extends his arm, cold-blooded fingers stretching out as if to grab you. “Shall I return you?”” You huddle close to the wall, curling away from his deathly touch. “I’ll freeze to death if you take me through those waters again,” you hedge. “Besides, you might change your mind along the way, and—” You cut yourself off, noticing the red of his tongue. Swallow, hoping it’s not left-over blood.

His ears flutter, noting your gaze, lips pulling back as he swipes the flesh-roughing muscle over gleaming teeth. “And?” He asks, quietly taunting as the edge of his mouth quirks. As if daring you to voice the dreadful tales of his kind. Your lips purse, instead turning your attention to trying to contain your warmth. The mer shifts, as if about to slide back into the water.

“Wait!” You call out, having him pause, glittering onyx eyes turning once again to your figure. “Where are you going?” You ask, unable to entirely keep the fear from your voice. “Away,” he answers in that still raspy, raw voice of his. “I’ll be back,” he adds with a croon, tail swishing beneath him, arms running through the water as if revelling in being reunited on friendly terms. Panic sets in—if he leaves, he might never return. Might very well forget about you entirely. Leaving you to freeze in a subterranean sea cave, rotting away with the grime and stale water, all alone.

“Why did you bring me here?” You ask frantically, not wanting to be around him, but not wanting him to leave either. You don’t want to die here.

Ears twitch again, watching you silently, observing like he’s waiting for a sign to show. He returns to the ledge of rock leading down into the freezing waters, again settling himself atop the hewn stone. “You know what he does to us. What you all do to us,” he rasps, close enough for you to pick out the still-healing slices on his throat. “You know how you hate us, and you know how they hate anything that does not hate with them. You knew how they’d hate you too. So why meddle?”

Skin prickles at the intense look he’s giving you, feeling as though judgement is being passed.

“I didn’t want your death on my conscience,” you mange, lips long numb from the biting temperature. He blinks slowly, the only shift in expression he shows, the rest of his features blank as a still day at sea.

“Don’t try to escape. You’ll drown yourself,” he rasps bluntly, pushing away from the ledge, returning to deeper waters. “Just wait. I’ll return.”

The mer swims to the middle of the pool, dark eyes gleaming. “Eventually.”

Then he’s swallowed in a flash of silver, darting away to one of the submerged tunnel openings, navigating his way out to open ocean. Stomach tenses, listening to the laboured heave of your breaths and the quiet hush of waves. Curl tighter into yourself, praying he returns before the warmth entirely leaves you, already unable to feel your legs or hands.

Teeth chatter in the quiet of the cave, leaving you to wonder how far below land you are.

How deeply he’s already buried you.

——————————————————————————————————————————————

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Az Taglist: @azrielshadows1nger @jurdanpotter @positivewitch @nightcourt-daydreaming @vanderlinde

[unkn0wnhum4n]

ship ideas

Okay so a ship idea I had was whale mer user / you x sea creature (char / person.)

like big x small kinda ship, I watched Avatar 2 and the tulkuns were something that gave me an idea for this. I feel like user / you would visit (char / person) when the seasons changed. And they could go with their pod of other whale mer's to. Because whales are so big yet so calm and protective user/ you. They would have swimming dates and if char/ person is an Atlantean then you would ask them about the world above the sea. (because whales are known to be curious it fits.) If you don't understand how a whale mer would look, you can look up 'whale mermaid oc' on pinterest for help or better understandings.