bridgescribble | Darling it's better down where it's wetter

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Darling it's better down where it's wetter

It's Mermay!

Old shipwreck: There's nothing more fun than exploring a sunken ship and looking for treasure... or the bones of old sailors.
Undersea trenches: On land, the mountains are the wild places. Underwater, it's the depths. Deep-sea fangly fishes and volcanic vents, or kelp forests nearer the sun but no less spooky. You've got to find your way through and it may not be easy.
On the ~~run~~ swim: The sea is where worse things happen. Sharks, orca, fishing and/or whaling ships, unethical movie scientists--time to work out those fins.
Atlantis: The city of the ocean floor, full of undersea wonders. There may or may not be singing crabs.
Sirensong: Some people? Drown shipwrecked sailors?? To cope???
Stranded: You've got fish (or marine mammal) fins and you are trapped on land. If you don't manage to struggle your way back to sea, you're in big trouble.
The Sharks and the Jets: Merfolk don't always get along and you've just met someone you know you're supposed to fight.
This looks like a job for Aquaman! There's a disaster and it turns out that a mermaid is the only one who can save the day. Lucky!
Swim and play: What's the good of being a mermaid if you don't get a chance to just hang out and vibe?
Wildcard!

AU: You've always been a merperson. This is normal. Just doing all your normal merfolk things!
Transformation: You weren't a seagoing creature when you woke up this morning, but you are now!! Whether or not this is great or upsetting is up to you....

Check out the Mermay prompt list if you want some specific ideas for your character!

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[Open to AU or transformation!]

[ I mean, it's obligatory. OTA for gen, F/M for shipping, if it goes there. ]

Ariel was thrilled, she had her tail back. She knew that there were probably a few jokes about the little mermaid to be made, but she honestly didn't care, because she had her tail back, a deep wine-purple thing, flecked with yellow and looking more than a little like some kind of tropical fish, which made sense, given as how she was sitting on a rock in a Hawaiian lagoon.

Her father had always said that all she'd need to get it back was a soak in the waters of home, but she'd been young enough when they'd moved back to the mainland -and Louisiana had different ocean than 'home'- that she hadn't remembered that he'd been serious and not just telling her stories even despite the vivid dreams she had of swimming, tail and all.

She'd try swimming soon enough, but for the moment she was enjoying just sitting and kicking occasionally to splash, scattering the smaller fish.

[Also down for other situations if you have something you want to try]

[Definitely a mer that's been experimented on and/or kept in captivity like some kind of exotic pet, yellow/green tail and fins, scattering of bright blue scales in irregular places.]

Steve had always been a sickly, pale thing, enough so that the first time he found himself caught in a fisherman's net, he was thrown back with a laugh of 'this one ain't even good for sharkbait!'

He'd been caught since then, on a few occasions, and had always managed to escape again the few times he wasn't almost immediately thrown back. Because the thing about being sickly was that it led to being cunning, to being creative, and more than that, to wanting to survive, and sometimes that was all that mattered.

It was also how he'd fallen in with Dr. Erskine and his crew, researchers who had put together an educational traveling exhibit of all sorts of creatures, some rare animals, and others like him, a lamia, a gryphon, even a pair of centaurs and a copse of dryads, their trees rooted in what amounted to a large mobile garden bed.

Like them, his traveling tank was large enough to be comfortable, though small enough that he was thankful whenever they stopped somewhere at the seashore, as it gave him a chance to really swim for a while.

[Good for all kinds of timeline shenanigans, and down for other situations if you have an idea.]

Lurine had hooked up with Dr. Erskine's outfit some time ago. While most mythological beings preferred to keep a low profile, she'd always loved the limelight. Since people these days didn't prostrate themselves in adoration at her feet, she'd take them staring at her in a different sort of way.

She had been delighted to discover a merman among the group, given that water-based creatures were the closest thing to a lamia as one was likely to get. Striking up a friendship with Steve, she'd often take time to move from her own exhibit tank to visit his, taking advantage of the shapeshifting that allowed her to move from a seemingly human shape to her sea monster one.

Being by the sea right now was a true joy for the lamia. Given she stretched out for hundreds of feet in length in her true form, there was no better place she liked to swim, and the crew who worked the traveling show kept any gawkers away. She dived again beneath the waves, noticing Steve nearby. She swam over to him. "It's been far too long since we were parked by the seaside," she said.

At that particular moment Steve was taking advantage of a deep tide pool on a spur of land to get a snack, though he grinned at her approach, hoisting himself up over the lip of the rock again to reach down and pull out a purple-and-black sea urchin that he offered over, "Hungry?"

Erskine was no slouch when it came to making sure everyone was properly fed, but even fresh clams and mussels or even a fish so freshly-caught that it was still wiggling couldn't compare to being able to grab it right out of the water for himself, and he was pretty sure she felt the same way, though it did occur to him that he didn't know if she actually ate the same things he did, "I always liked the green ones better, but I think we're too far south for those."

"Thank you, darling," Lurine said. She was the type of person to always be calling people darling, sweetie, baby, things of that nature. It was one of the ways she showed affection to those around her. Once she had the sea urchin in her grasp, she went to town on it, tearing it apart so she could get at the meat inside the spikey critter.

"Delicious. They remind me a little of the ones from home." She hadn't talked much about her past, not even to her fellow traveling creatures, though several of them had origins in Greece like she did.

Most everyone in the outfit called Steve by a diminutive of some kind, and he figured if he was going to get bothered by it every time he wasn't going to get anywhere, and for the most part he wasn't actually bothered, and he especially wasn't bothered when it came from her, because she did it to everyone.

"Yeah? We had some kingfish last week that were almost like the ones back at home, definitely cleaner, though." He laughed, just once, shaking his head and leaning back against the spit of rocks so that he could pick at the innards of his own urchin, eating it with his fingers even as he spoke, "Never thought I'd miss the coal-oil taste, you know?"

“It’s amazing what you can start to feel nostalgic for after you’ve been away for a while from home,” Lurine said. “I have a certain fondness for some shark species that are only found in the Mediterranean.” She was on the top of the food chain and used to eating whatever she pleased when she wanted it. Even a large shark posed no threat to the lamina.

“At least it’s easier to swim openly these days. They used to shoot at me in the old days with harpoons and guns.” As the twentieth century had rolled around, human beings had started learning more about the sapient creatures they shared the globe with beyond the myths and legends. There was still a lot of work to do, given the average person never even encountered a single nymph or mer in their life, creating a lot of misconceptions and inaccuracies still abounded in the public mind.

That was one of the reasons Lurine had joined up with Dr. Erskine. She was impressed by his compassion, kindness, and willingness to try to get all beings to get along. Those were rare qualities found in a human and Lurine had seen a lot of them come and go in her time on Earth. So she’d vowed to try and help his cause by traveling with him to spread knowledge, pledging herself to watch over a human for the rest of their life the way she had occasionally in the past when she found one worthy of her time.

"My pod's old enough, and been in the same place long enough that we went from being an ill omen, because we'd cut nets and steal fish, to being a good omen, because it meant the water was clean and there were fish there, to being a bad omen for cutting nets again and then by the time I signed on with Erskine we were kind of a neutral omen, because the fish boats were finally realizing that we'll only cut the nets if they're overfishing in one area."

He shrugged, "If they'd just asked we would have told them that in the first place, but apparently back in the beginning they thought we could control the weather, so they'd capture us for putting on their boats to ensure calm seas." He shook his head, finishing his urchin and washing out the shell, he'd already tucked the spines into the bag at his waist, and the shell would go there too for later crafting, "Don't know why they thought pulling someone from their home wouldn't result in horrible storms, but I also wasn't born yet, definitely glad they figured out we couldn't do that, though."

He leaned back on his elbows, just watching her again, considering, "I never got shot at, but I did get caught a few times, by accident."

"Human beings have never been known much for their forethought," Lurine observed. That kind of long-term thinking came with creatures who were a little closer to nature, immortal, or both. For all her vapid ways, Lurine had a lot of wisdom underneath the surface.

"Back in ancient times, they worshipped me. I miss that sometimes." Lurine sighed in a nostalgic fashion. She loved attention in all forms and couldn't help but be nostalgic for the days where people would give her all that she wanted and even more.

He considered this for a moment, and then, because he liked to solve problems even if they weren't entirely solvable, he said: "I don't know about worship but we could probably make you some fans. Have Erskine put you on some of the leaflets."

He grinned then, "Or one of the banners like they do with Broadway stars. Everybody would know you were coming before we even arrived." He didn't think it was quite the same thing, he also didn't think that worshipping some kind of sea-goddess was the sort of thing people did anymore, but he wasn't sure, which was why he didn't bring that part up.

Bucky was only just starting to get used to having open space again after what felt like a lifetime spent in too-small tanks. Granted, he was still in a tank, but it was one that belonged to a rescue and rehabilitation outfit, so it was almost as good as being in open water again. The plan was to get him back into the ocean as soon as he was fit for it, which regular meals and not being regularly used as a science experiment were both doing wonders for.

He was still jumpy, and had a tendency to lash out when he was startled -and he was easily startled- and to lurk in the far corners where he couldn't always be seen right away. With a tail like tarnished bronze and a tangle of dark hair that he refused to let anyone even trim, he usually kept his left arm tucked in close, because that arm was a liability.

That one that had thirty two different electrode nodes, surgical shunts and even magnets in it when they'd found him, not counting the old scars where some had been removed, and the open wounds where he'd obviously pulled others out himself. There were only five still there, electrode nodes that they hadn't been able to remove just yet because they were embedded in the bone.

It was usually easy for him to go unnoticed if he was sitting and listening like he was doing at the moment.

[Also open to other situations if you've got an idea]

Ivar had accompanied his father on a tour of one of the many facilities the successful weapons manufacturing company Ragnar had been running for the past two decades supported. Part of it was a desire to get to spend time with his often-absent father and part was a curiosity about what sort of beings they held there. Ivar had absolutely no idea what had prompted his father to give such copious amounts of money to the rehabilitation center. Maybe it was guilt, something to help him sleep better at night in contrast to knowing how many people were otherwise killed by Lothbrok Inc.

Ivar was used to people overlooking him since he was in a wheelchair. So many times in his life they acted as if he was an idiot or otherwise lesser than someone who was physically whole. He'd long since learned to use that to his advantage. Observing and watching those around him had given him a keen insight into how to read people. He was half-listening to the director of the center prattling on about the work being done there but his attention was drawn to the tank nearby.

Most of the beings kept there were loud, moved around a lot, or both. This one was not, instead looking quiet and withdrawn. Neither the director nor Ragnar noticed when he stopped and didn't continue on with them, instead hanging behind at Bucky's tank.

With scales and fins not unlike those of an armored catfish, it was easy for Bucky to blend in with the hides they'd made for him, concrete and ceramic mostly, but modeled after sunken logs, and with perforated camo duck-blind material stretched across the top and a few other sheets placed at random intervals between rocks and posts to give him a little more security.

One of them staying behind and not immediately trying to get his attention, or to get him to pay attention to them, was new, and puzzling. Enough to make him curious, though he didn't approach right away, and not directly, no, instead he waited, watching as well, still save for the regular flex and flare of gills along his ribs and the slow fanning of his tail.

He backed further down into the burrow he was half-hidden in, though it was only so he could slip out the far side and circle around from behind one of the fabric sheets, moving at speed so that he could charge the glass, fins all flaring and teeth bared. Most of the time people did actually startle away and leave him alone when he put on a threat display like that, but he wasn't sure about this one.

Ivar's body automatically jerked backwards a little when he saw the merman suddenly rush towards him in an aggressive fashion, but his hands weren't on his wheels, so he didn't go anywhere. His heart pounded for a moment but then he got himself back under control. Ivar didn't scare easily and he refused to be intimidated. If the mer wanted to act like an aggressive animal, then Ivar would stand his ground and not show any fear.

"So you're the poor little broken-down mer they've made into a project to fix," Ivar commented. He wasn't even sure if Bucky could understand him but talking helped him feel more in control of the situation. The director had spoken a little about this one, talking about what rough shape he'd been him when he was found and how they'd been working on complete rehabilitation. If Bucky could end up being released, he'd be one of their biggest success stories.

Even just that reflexive startle was enough for him, though the fact that it wasn't followed by a retreat was enough to make him curious, and the fact that the human was speaking -presumably to him- was even more so.

They talked about him, and around him, and over him, but never to him. He drifted closer to the glass, fins relaxing again and keeping himself close to the bottom in case he needed to kick up a cloud of substrate and disappear behind it.

He drifted close enough to rest the fingers of his right hand against the glass, using the left to gesture briefly at his ear. He wouldn't be able to hear, not exactly, not unless he surfaced -which he wasn't about to do- and if the human was up on the observation deck at the top of the tank -which was unlikely to happen- but he'd be able to both feel the vibrations and actually see his mouth move now that he was paying attention, and he'd get a reasonable idea of what was being said, if it was being said in a language he understood.

Ivar didn't know much about mer, including how sapient they were or their abilities for understanding language. As with many things that lived in the ocean, not much study had been done into the creatures. So he was a little surprised when Bucky indicated he could hear Ivar talking.

He wheeled a little closer to the tank. "Can you understand me?" He asked in English, slowly and carefully, as he watched to see what the reaction of the merman would be. This close up, he could see the many scars that littered Bucky's left arm. He wondered what had happened to the poor creature to cause such harm.

The scars were at their worst along his arm, but they went most of the way down his side as well, worse on his back, though those were currently out of sight. There were even some scattered along his tail, even his caudal fin was damaged, though with the way it was in near-constant motion that was harder to see, but one side had been torn and badly healed.

He blinked at the question, both eyelids and nictitating membranes, but nodded once he'd parsed it. English he understood, could even speak to some extent even though his mouth wasn't quite shaped correctly for it. He could understand some Russian as well, and a little bit of a scattering of other languages. His brow creased then, not sure if he was expected to say anything back, but while the lab coats here had never demanded responses from him, he was far too used to needing to give them, which was why after a moment of hesitation hand-sign followed, 'I understand' and then 'Who are you?'

Looked like the question of whether or not the merman could understand him had been answered. He watched him using some sort of hand signs and took a moment to parse out their meaning.

Figuring trying to hear anything while in the water and with a layer of glass between them would make the words all sound rather muted, he spoke loudly and slowly. "My name is Ivar Ragnarsson," he said. "My father's company donates a lot of money to this place."

He cocked his head, clearly paying attention, and while the volume made it a little difficult to differentiate individual words via the vibration of the glass, the reduced speed made it a little easier, so it balanced out in the end.

He still wasn't totally sure what 'this place' was, or if giving them money was a good thing or not, but he nodded once, just tapping his chest with one hand before signing: 'Subject 32557038'. He knew the coats here had given him a name, but he wasn't sure he trusted it, giving him a name, calling him a name was just a way to get him to let his guard down.

Ivar followed the signing, taking a moment as he figured out how to interpret it. Once he had the gist of it, he shook his head. "That's not a name, that's a serial number," Ivar said dryly. Would this creature even know what that meant? Probably not. But it was all Ivar could think of to say in response. "You must have something you call yourself."

Ivar's sharp eyes tended to miss nothing around him. Going slower than the rest of the world had made it a constant habit. His eyes fell on Bucky's arm, noting the many scars that dotted up and down. Jeez, what had this poor being been through? He gestured to it. "What happened?" He asked curiously.

He just gave a little tilt of his head at the first, somehow dismissive, because while he definitely had something he called himself, and that his people had called him, but speaking his own language had been one of the first things hammered out of him at the facility he'd been in before. None of them had been allowed to talk to each other in any way that the coats and the soldiers couldn't understand. There was no plotting allowed, despite the fact that most of them were too sick or injured to plot anything and had only been trying to comfort each other in the way they all needed.

His eyes narrowed at the question, sinking a little in the water, closer to the bottom in case he had to make a quick exit, considering his options and debating just diving off for his hide already. But something about Ivar made him curious, if only to know why he wanted to know, and the fact that he was going out of his way to make himself understood was something new. So he just signed 'why?' in response.

“Alright,” Ivar said with a shrug. “Suit yourself.” He’d drop the subject of his name for the moment. Perhaps it was a sore subject for the merman or something.

“That’s what everyone always asks me right away.” He gestured to his own legs, thin things that had little musculature to them, and crooked from breaking multiple times without ever healing completely right. Physical therapy had helped to keep the tendons and ligaments from atrophying entirely but without the advanced leg braces he wore on occasion, he would have been completely stuck in his wheelchair. Even then, continuous use of the braces made things very painful for Ivar, so he used them only sparingly. “Not that I have an exciting answer for them. I was just born a cripple. So I’m wondering what happened to you.”

He drifted closer again so that he could get a better look, not entirely sure what it was he was looking at at first, but the explanation made some sense at least, defects like that weren't unknown even among his kind, though in his experience Mer looked after their own far more readily than humans did.

He considered the question, moving to where he could make sure that Ivar could see what he was signing, not about to let himself be misunderstood, 'Made me better. Improved.' The expression on his face was indescribably bitter, evidence that 'better' and 'improved' were definitely not the words he would have used.

'Made me a weapon.' That one was definitely true, and more accurate, and he could still hear just how disgusted the lead doctor here had been when they'd said it and promised to repair the damage as best they could. Which they had done, at least so far, always giving him time to recover between surgeries, taking as many of the implants out at one time as they could do safely, and even he knew that the only ones left were secured to bone which made things complicated.

Ivar listened to what Bucky told him. The look in his ice-blue eyes hardened as he heard of what had been done to the merman. Ivar could be sadistic and cruel on occasion but he'd never done anything like had been done to Bucky. He had only one word to speak. "Bastards."

They sounded like a cowardly, spineless lot. Torturing a creature incapable of fighting back when they were stuck in a tank of water and could only go so far in any direction was the mark of people who would have caved and begged for mercy if the same had been done to them.

That response was enough to get a smile out of him, quick and sharp-edged and more than just a little predatory, but a smile all the same, nodding once in agreement.

He considered for a moment before drifting himself closer to the glass again, tapping at it twice lightly and pointing, trying to indicate the sign on the near wall that read 'observation pool', he had decided that he actually wanted to talk to this one instead of relying on hand sign and distorted lip-reading.

He didn't spend much time in the pool generally, but that was because he didn't generally feel like answering questions. He also knew it was accessible because one of the medical techs was likewise chair-bound. Bucky actually didn't mind talking to her, either, because she asked unusual questions, not just the endless variations on 'how are you feeling today?'

Legs were confusing enough, but a tail was moreso, even though there was only one of them and not two like there were with legs.

At least it was nice to look at, bright blue scales edged with black and flecked with white and gold speckles here and there, really looking like a drawing of a mermaid's tail rather than a tail itself.

[Open to basically whatever!]

[Okay but the Mandalorians as a tribe of merfolk who have been hunted to near-extinction? Something else? Whatever y'all, hit me.]

Pararibulitis attacks were different in Wendimoor and always had been, but this was the first time that the effects of one had stayed with her when she passed back home.

Which was to say, she was sitting in a ~~stolen~~ borrowed bathtub full of room-temperature water and no less than a dozen small rubber ducks because someone had thought she needed friends. She wasn't going to lie, they did help, a little.

[If you can think of a different scenario, lay it on me. Cross-canon encouraged.]

[Henry as an actual siren out in the ocean would amuse me to no end.
Henry as an actual siren from the ocean but now on land and, somehow, in a rock & roll band would be even more amusing.]

[Testing new peripherals now that the Sea's clean again? ISOs = mer? IDK man, she's super pale and has a black tail with clearly hexagonal scales and irregular blue streaks, probably looks like some kind of betta, or lionfish, or weird combo.]

[I'm good with always-been or transformation, because being on the swim team and lifeguarding for a summer is one thing, but tail and possibly gills is something else entirely
OR
Mer-Steve as a creche guardian that definitely took on a shark that was trying to eat the kids once.]

[AU or transformation! Julie is a very colorful mermaid to say the least with the biggest head of blonde hair you've ever seen!]

[Possibly he's found himself on a planet inhabited by merfolk. I'm also open to AU'ing him as a merman.]

[A couple of options here! He's a feral merman who has a physical problem with his tail that makes it hard for him to swim but makes him no less ferocious in combat, a selkie who looks absolutely adorable as a seal and has come ashore for a bit (finding the skin he hid is optional), or a human who is the one finding the mer in question.]

[He can either have his original tail or a prosthetic one. Or possibly be his usual Zabrak self and interacting with mer on another planet.]

Edited 2023-05-23 06:09 (UTC)

[Absolutely down for a MER-Tal Kombat AU of some type ]

[I actually sort of designed a merman Buson, he's based on a Sharpedo! So very rough scales/skin you can cut yourself on, sharp teeth, dark shark eyes, gills, and one set of dorsal and pelvic fins... not much of a tail. Ironically.

... he probably eats a lot of trash, honestly. At least he doesn't have a taste for humans?]

Edited 2023-06-06 16:23 (UTC)

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Darling it's better down where it's wetter

Fuu Hououji | Magic Knight Rayearth

ariel | tlm

Maedhros | the silmarillion | ota

Ariel 'Cap' Wilson | MCU (rule 63) | OTA

Techie | Dredd | OTA

Steve Rogers / MCU AU / OTA

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Bucky Barnes | MCU | OTA

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The Tardis (AU) | That show with all the running | OTA

Mr. The Mandalorian + The Starwar + OTA

Amanda | Dirk Gently's etc. etc. etc. | OTA

Henry Stillman | X-Verse OC | OTA

Quorra | Tron: Legacy | OTA

Steve | Stranger Things | OTA

Julie Joyful | Welcome Home

Grand Admiral Thrawn | Star Wars | OTA

elia martell | asoiaf | ota

Ivar "The Boneless" Ragnarsson | Vikings

Darth Maul | Star Wars

Kabal | Mortal Kombat | OTA

Buson (Attila) | Pokemon | OTA for gen