Merfolk Mating Rituals Are Confusing

CH 4

Updated: 4 - 19 - 22
Word count upped from 5k to... 16k
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Warm water cascaded down your back, the high pressure setting beating into your spine doing its damnedest to relax the coiled muscles there. Hopping out of your shower, you carefully dried off, eyes catching sight of yourself in the mirror. A part of you frowned, hands coming up to your belly.

You'd lost some weight, your ribs peeking through ever so slightly, jeans and such not fitting as tight as they once had, but according to the doctors that was one of the side effects of the new medication you were on now. It was supposed to help with some of your blackouts, and minimally reduce how badly you regressed after them but...

Your hands slide into your own hair, naturally gravitating towards, and running over the thick, raised ridge of scar tissue across the back of your skull.

You felt like your headaches were even worse after taking them. Sometimes, your skull felt like it was going to explode with how bad the migraines got, yet the doctors were insisting that it was getting better, no matter how much you approached them and begged for a different medication, or at least one with less severe side effects.

Shaking your head, you stepped into your room, quietly tossing a sheet over your floor length mirror. Pulling out some comfortable clothes - a simple t-shirt and swim trunks - you stepped back into the bathroom to change, acutely aware of every window in the house nowadays. "I can't believe I'm about to fucking do th-this, oh my fuck..." You muttered, hands shaking even as you tossed the orange shirt over a bikini top, the dark blue trunks slipped up your legs over a pair of tight boyshorts. No point in tempting them with any chance to harass you.

Yeah, you were about to go swimming.

You genuinely loved swimming on your off days, and you weren't about to be scared out of doing the things you really like, just because a bunch of Poseidon wannabes couldn't keep it in their pants.

Grabbing your towel, you jogged outside, resolute in your mission to unwind and swim.

Unsurprisingly, there's another crab trap, now mere steps from your door. This time it's full of whole shells, sparkling sea glass and various sand dollars - for a moment, you pause, eyeing the sparkling sea glass. You knew that Sales really liked making jewelry out of the various pretty things he'd find along the beach, but you didn't want to give the fishy bastards the wrong idea.

After another moment of eyeing the trap, you kick it into the water, sending shells spiralling across the pier and plunking the sea glass into the ocean with soft 'kerplunk!'s that sounded like rain hitting the surface of a lake. For a moment you wait, shoulders tense and feet planted more firmly in case a certain sharkman gets any bright ideas like the last time you did this.

There's nothing.

Relaxing minutely, you head towards the end of the docks, bare feet padding across the wood mutedly. Nothing pops up to spook you; no fins flare out of the water, no tentacles reach through the cracks in the dock, and no fish dicks pop above the water to taunt you.

You almost let yourself believe you won't be accosted by any amorous fish, all the way up until you're actually in the water, swimming briskly into the ocean. You swim a good 10 feet from the pier - close enough to doggy paddle back to in a hurry, but far enough out so that you can swim without fear of someone needing something from you.

Rolling over into a Deadman's float, you relax for just a bit, arms splayed out and face tilted into the sun.

"Wow, and here I thought you couldn't get anymore gorgeous."

You flinch, violently.

It sends you underwater for a moment, head submerging in the water and for one terrifying moment, you're drowning pink green drowning blood water bloodlTE ME GO LET MEGOL