bakerstreet | Mermay!

Mermay!

Time for mermaids, sirens and other water creatures! Comment with your merfolk characters, or make your very own AU. Splash around in the waters or try to drown someone. I'm not judging.

IDEAS

Merfolk

Longing to see the surface and all it offers?
Trapped in a net! Are you facing your kidnappers or a savior?
Long travels with your pod, to explore new waters?
Hurt or sick, and taken to a mer facility to be healed - but they actually nice, or will the experiment on you?
Taken from your pod, you've ended up as a sideshow, a circus act or any other form of entertainment.
It's mating season! Try to impress your future mate, even if you might come from different worlds!

Humans

Is that an actual mermaid???
Fallen into the water and saved by a person with fins!
Lured to the waters by siren songs, you're risking an early death by drowning...
How do you kiss? Is it going to be wet and salty?
Finding an injured merfolk, and dragging them home to your bathtub to heal?
A little merfolk child needs your help to find their guardian. Hopefully they won't get the wrong idea.
You really want to be a mermaid, too. Is there any way your new friend can help?

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only | Expand All

John picks up on that clue immediately. Seems like the mer-person wasn't all that keen on talking to their people.

But maybe...him? Huh. John isn't sure what to think about that, though a part of him preens a little, admittedly. Look at him, making friends with a person from another species like, immediately.

"I don't know. I could come out more often..." John says, sort of stammering. For a second he feels exposed, and he's not sure why. "Do you, or can you breathe air? Because I sometimes go to the mainland, to surf..."

Does he even know what surfing is?

"What I'm trying to say is I think it could be cool if we could talk, face to face? Without..." he gestures at the window.

Yes, I can breathe air too. he confirmed with a nod.

He thinks on it a moment, then nods again. Very well, there's a sandy strip of beach east of here. I will meet you there in two days.

Without so much as a goodbye or further details, he flicked his tail and was off like a shot after that school he'd been tempted by earlier, the desire to hunt winning out for the time being.

And then all is quiet. Like he was never there.

John is randomly struck with the strange sense he’s entered some kind of fairy tale. Because that’s what this is like, isn’t it? But real life wasn’t fairy tales and mer-people were still alien creatures. He stares for another good minute, and then turns the Jumper back towards Atlantis.

He should have told them. He very nearly did, McKay almost wheedled it out of him. He almost told Elizabeth twice. But if he did, there was no way he would be permitted to go alone. For safety reasons, of course, but also there was no way there wasn’t going to be a couple of cloaked Jumpers full of overeager scientists observing and recording every second, and full of Marines with every weapon at the ready. There was a bit of selfishness to it too, of course. And he’s telling himself that after this meeting, he’ll tell everyone. He’s just getting intel. He doesn’t want to scare the mer-person away. It’s more important that they don’t mess this up this time.

Or maybe you’re walking into a trap, and being severely stupid, and they’ll never know why you disappeared because you stupidly did a stupid thing.

He lands the Jumper a bit away from the beach, and steps out from the back. He’d gotten clearance to do a solo Mainland run, for a quiet day off on the beach, he’d claimed. He’s not wrong, it’s just he’s not surfing today. He’s hoping that he gets to meet with an alien being he really hopes is benevolent and isn’t going to lure him to his watery doom.

He’s still wearing his uniform and boots as he sets out on the beach, looking out towards the waves. He doesn’t expect to get into the water today, it’s certainly not safe. Not until he fully trusts the mer-creature. He gets close though, wondering if he’ll see a sign, or maybe he’s too early, or too late. Maybe they count days different, who know…

“This is great. Yep. Not only am I doing the smart thing, I don’t think my new buddy has a watch, I should a brought a grill, could’ve made it a whole thing…”

He might be muttering to himself as he walks up and down the sand.

It's a hell of a secret to keep, a new sentient species right on the same world they were on, but no one is wiser and he's given his clearance.

And Sheppard isn't kept waiting long.

There's a splash and the flick of a familiar white fin before the merman is in the shallows. He bobs in the water a moment, looking around, clearly wary-even looking skyward to make sure no Jumpers were in the air before looking at the colonel. Another tail swish and he moved closer, hauling himself up to where the surf ended.

Two days would typically see some healing of wounds, but his were entirely gone. He was still on the thinner side but the gashes in his flank and the markings around his limbs had vanished. As he "sat" in the soft sand, the pink slits around his ribs disappeared, his gills retracting to avoid drying out.

"You have a strong mind, but it's also a beacon, fairly easy to find you." This time, he spoke normally, the voice a bit more gravelly and tired, as if not used in some while.

He breathes sharply when he sees the splash. Despite this being exactly what he was hoping for, there's at thrill all the same. He's here. He kept his promise. And now he was going to talk face-to-face with another sentient species that lived on their planet, could be potentially and wildly dangerous, and no one knew he was doing so. Of all the idiotic, exciting things he'd done...

"Good to know I'm a beacon," John drawls, both amused and a little alarmed. Does that mean others of the mer-person's kind could follow, ones that may not be so benign? But then again, they'd gone to beaches dozens of times and not had any trouble, so maybe it's only when one of their people was actively looking for them? Or maybe it's just this particular mer-person.

John gets closer to the water, to where the sand is actively sinking under his boots, to where the water just barely surges into it. The fact that the mer-person was looking up and around isn't lost on him--probably a good idea he didn't bring the Jumper back ups.

"Thought maybe you weren't gonna show up." There's a smirk, and despite himself, he can't hide how pleased he is that the alien came.

"Fear not, it's just us." he wasn't currently in good graces with his kin and so if there were any about, they'd both have trouble on their hands.

He glances over the man, not really relaxed for a time at the beach was he? Still the same attire more or less. He thought Lanteans-and humans for that matter-dressed more varied? He does cast another look at the treeline and up and down the sand, no other footprints but the man's, so he was on his own, barring anyone or anything hidden. He chose to trust a little, though remained just in the slow surf in case he had to made a quick get away.

"I keep my word." More or less. "And you're far too interesting to pass up another meeting on."

Edited 2025-05-31 04:56 (UTC)

"Good."

John approaches a little closer, letting the water lap at his boots, trying to show his trust, too. He knows how delicate this is, how easily one false move could end up terrible for them both, and how much the other is willing to trust here. Which is encouraging, of course.

"Flattering," he smirks, even though he's literally having the same thoughts. "What makes me so interesting?" His voice turns just a tad more genuine. Admittedly, he is actually a little flattered. "And I could say the same about you. My first time meeting a mer-person in person. I'm honored."

"Oh, much" he grins.

Honestly where to start? Being the first humanoid to set foot on this world in thousands of years? The fact he's a Lantean descendant? His lack of fear towards himself?...

"Honored?" his brows rise. That was a first. The feeling wasn't mutual, he'd met humans before.

"I am not Merfolk, I am Wraith." he clarified.

"Yeah, I think it's pretty cool." He pauses, he's not sure if slang translates well, so he adds, "I mean, we don't meet alien people every day. And the fact that you wanna talk to me, well. That's neat, I guess."

There's a beat.

Merfolk sounded an awful lot like that was the designation of some kind of people, which meant there were Merfolk, but this guy was not?

He holds a hand up, confusion on his face.

"Wait, what do you mean--are there Merfolk, and you're not? How does that--work, exactly? Are there Wraith and Merfolk? What's the difference between you?" He realizes too late that might be a bit blunt. Courtesy of hanging out with Rodney too much.

"You travel to various worlds and yet don't meet different kinds of species on the regular?" he asked surprised. Seemed like when the Lanteans were around there was always something new-positive or negative-going on with a new species.

The creature laughs a little at the man's absolute confusion. "You truly know nothing about the previous inhabitants of that city, do you?"

He looked away, running his clawed fingers through the soft wet sand, warmed by the sun it felt good after so long in the cold and dark.

He turned to look at the other again. "The Lanteans were once Merfolk. Then they began to build above the surface and spent more and more time there, eventually building Gates to travel to other habitable worlds. Came here, built Atlantis, and created us...from them."

It was a crude summary of their connection to say the least.

“Well, there’s mostly humans out there,” he trails off, his imagination running away with him. Who else was out there that they were missing? He suddenly feels like the galaxy, the universe is much bigger than he’d conceptualized.

“They didn’t exactly leave great accounts. Or manuals. We’re still stuck figuring out most of the really good stuff in the city.” He sounds annoyed—not at his new buddy, but at the Ancients. You’d think they’d at least left a couple of labels telling people what stuff is. “We have so many artifacts and rooms and labs, just last week I accidentally turned on a bunch of glowy spheres, they didn’t do anything except glow but it coulda been real dangerous, y’know? What if they were weapons?”

He has a lot of opinions about the Ancients. Except now with that, that’s a whole new revelation that’s gonna change everything.

“Wait, wait, wait. The Lanteans were once Merfolk?! Like, like, under the sea, fish-tails and everything?”

There’s a lot to deal with all of a sudden and all at once. The Ancients created Wraith, these creatures of the sea, who still existed in their world. The Ancients were once a people who lived under the sea, from the sea. He was related to said people who seem more alien than ever.

He loses focus a second, staring at the ocean which looked both extra terrifying and ominous and mysterious. He’d always loved the ocean, loved swimming and surfing, and he’d always felt more at home on Atlantis and on this planet in the short time he’d been here. Never belonging anywhere on earth, and yet here…

A shiver runs through him.

“And you, your people…are there a lot of you? Do you have a whole civilization down there too or what?”

Edited 2025-05-31 07:17 (UTC)

He watches as his new companion realizes what this means. Of course if his lifespan was that of humans the wraith had encountered before then this one had a heavy count of generations between him and the sea. And the Lanteans were Merfolk long before he was born and had lost most of their physical traits with their ocean ancestors by the time he was. Their cities after all were designed for bipeds, not for someone without legs.

He is silent, simply watching the man go through the motions. And he nods at the question. "Several cities in the deepest parts where even your little ships cannot go."

“Wow. That’s…that’s pretty cool. I wish I could see them,” he rambles, but he’s genuine with it, his usual sarcasm a little bit faded. It’s the same enthusiasm he uses to talk about Ferris wheels and football, though he knew those would mean nothing to a being who lived underwater. Could you even play football underwater…

He steps a bit more into the surf, not minding how the gentle waves flow around the soles.

“Well, I hope this can be the start of some kind of…” he trails off, trying to think of the word. He’s bad at the whole diplomacy thing, where’s Weir when you needed her. “Connection, between our two peoples.”

The world below was indeed an incredible sight, though without night vision one would only see blips of bioluminescence and miss the grandeur of the rest.

The wraith chuffed, "I'm no ambassador" He almost seemed insulted the human would consider he was...or perhaps disappointed he couldn't be? He elaborated, not wanting to give the impression he was upset with the other. "I'm not in the best of graces with those in authority. Even if you had means to come down, neither of us would be welcome."

"Ah. Well I gotta admit to you, we're pretty much the same when it comes to that." He makes a face that tells of a long and storied history with authority. But he seems to not be bothered at all by the other's admission, either.

"I'm pretty good at being a friend, though. My name's John Sheppard. Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard."

He smiles, a genuine one, and maybe even more stupidly, begins to wade out a little into the shallows. He doesn't seem to care he's getting wet, his pants are now soaked up to the knees, but he holds out a hand.

Edited (For got the Lieutenant lol) 2025-05-31 08:47 (UTC)

“John Shep-pard…” he tries it out. Names were strange things…

He had a rank. He wasn’t just an explorer, he was a fighter too.

Then Sheppard was wading out to him. Even in a little over a couple feet of water he had a great advantage over the biped. Instinct made him tense and dig his claws in the sand, ready for anything, to slash a leg and tackle him-but then he was holding out…an empty hand?

He looked it over then down in the water, thinking perhaps he’d dropped something but saw nothing. He looked back up at Sheppard and cocked his head. “I…don’t understand.”

John grins, delighted by the way he says his name and seems utterly baffled by the concept of a handshake. It's almost adorable.

"It's how my people say hello. Or at least, the people that are from a certain area in--never mind."

"We shake hands. I guess it shows that we trust each other or something."

Do you trust him, buddy?

Even as he's saying this, a wave of dizziness hits. It's nothing too bad, but just, kinda weird. He doesn't notice that the ocean water has soaked up his skin pretty good, and he doesn't care, and right now the two things don't seem related at all. He shakes his head, clearing it. It's fine.

Edited 2025-05-31 09:09 (UTC)

Shake hands?

For a moment it seems like he’s about to mimic Sheppard, swishing his hand in the water to rid it of sand and lifting it just above the surface, droplets of seawater dripping from his claws when the human appears none too steady on his feet.

“Are you ill?” He asks

"I'm fine," he immediately says again, and is hit with another wave of dizziness. He wavers, unsteady, his legs feeling terribly weak, and achy, all of a sudden. Did he forget to eat breakfast, is he getting sick?

"...okay, maybe not so fine." It's like he's hot and cold, and he takes his hand back, scrubbing at his face.

And then quite suddenly his legs give way completely. He goes down in the water with a large splash, hitting the sand in the shallows, rolling over into the surf. He can't think all of a sudden, it's just pain.

It's awful and unrelenting, sharp and incomprehensible. There's the sound of cloth tearing, one boot bobs away and then another, and it would have been baffling if he had not been yelling and confused and in pain.

"Ahh! What the hell!?"

It's sputtering in the surf, flailing really, and it's like something has grabbed his legs and held them fast. He thinks he's tangled in something, maybe, or maybe he miscalculated and his new buddy is holding him down and is finally attacking. What John doesn't realize, is that where his legs were, is now what can only be described as a mer-tail. A deep, rich blue and silver, scales flashing in the sun.

The wraith watches in great surprise as the man before him collapses and jerks about as if having a seizure. If the man dies, his people might come looking for him. Can't have that. So he grabs Sheppard by the arm and hauls him further up the shore to ensure he didn't drown, likely accidentally scratching him in the process as the man flailed about.

He growled and withdrew, surprise and confusion deepening as he caught sight of where Sheppard's legs used to be.

"You are a Lantean!" he snarls, backing up into the shallows, ready to bolt as far and deep as he could, mind racing as betrayal set in.

The hauling and the accidental scratches only serve to make John’s assumption that he’s getting drowned and held down, so he flails even more, yelling louder, trying to hit and kick out.

Except he can’t kick out. Or at least, the way he was used to. What’s “kicking out” instead is a large tail. John catches sight of it, immediately assessing it as either his new buddy or he’s fighting on a third front and some giant fish attacked him. But as seconds pass and he’s not seeing his feet, he realizes he’s on much shallower shore, practically beached, and he’s seeing the trail of scales runs under his now drenched shirt and jacket.

You are a Lantean the Wraith has snarled at him, and John is baffled because what the hell does him attacking him and some third fish getting inexplicably and improbably involved have to do with his ancestry and what did that even mean—

“What the hell-what are you doing, I’m not Lantean, I’m human—“

But he’s no longer being touched or held down. And he’s staring to have a literal sinking feeling about this.

He looks down.

There’s a beat.

That’s not human.

He throws off his jacket onto the sand, and takes off his shirt, realizing his pants have long been lost and so have his boots (he did like those boots, it’s a shame, but right now he’s not entirely sure he will ever wear boots again)—and when the shirt comes off, he sees that the scales have trailed quite far up his torso, his “tail” (he has a tail, he has a tail) which has a couple of fins along the sides and a large, shiny dark blue and silver one at the end, there are lines on his ribs that are moving, gills maybe, and he doesn’t feel cold.

He goes very still. His mouth opens and closes.

“I have no idea what just happened.”

The wraith's growling escalated, backing up, then stopped as the man tore at his clothes and looked down at himself.

That wasn't the look of a man who knew what he was.

He scanned him over from fin to head. He had the genes, related though distantly as he was to Lanteans apparently enough was still in him to trigger their transformation that they retained.

He remained wary but he was inclined to believe that Sheppard was not tricking him.

That’s a lotta growling, buddy.

John stays perfectly still out of sheer shock (or at least as still as one can be half-beached in the surf) as his brain tries desperately to keep up with what’s happened.

“Okay. Okay, that’s—weird. That’s so weird.” He lifts his tail, marveling in both wonder and horror at being able to use it.

He’s also slowly realizing he has either scared or put off his new friend and he holds his hands up, noticing the thin webbing between his fingers, too. Because of course. Of course he’d get webbed hands.

“I can assure you, I’m just as surprised as you are. This has certainly never happened to me before…”

He was certainly acting as though this was new. He felt as much in his mind as he entered and tried to figure out if he was just putting on an act or not.

That transformation certainly couldn't been an act, the Lanteans he'd encountered transformed with far more grace and knowledge than this flopping fish.

So he appeared to be telling the truth. But then that begged the question, why now?

"Perhaps you ought to call your people" he said, ready to make himself scarce if he did.

“Probably should.”

He makes no move to call them. Or to do anything else but sit there in the surf staring at his tail.

He looks quite lost and bewildered, just sitting here in the surf.

“You…didn’t do this to me?”

It was obvious that he didn’t, what with the Wraith’s clear shock and alarm, but the words tumble out anyway. He’s not sure what he’s saying. He what he could say, what he should say. His mind is reeling, trying to figure it out. Okay, the ATA gene clearly had extra surprises that Carson either didn’t know or tell him about. Likely the former. Which meant that this was either environmental—something in this water, this ocean did something to his DNA, or he had been infected or exposed to, to something. He thinks back at all the Ancient artifacts they’ve encountered recently and the spheres that glowed but didn’t do anything stay in his mind.

“Crap. Maybe I touched something I shouldn’t have…”

Mermay!

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

Would you like to meet a Mer-John?

Go for it!

o7

no subject

no subject

is he an whale mermaid or shark one like todd?

I was thinking more like the Lantean whales in Echoes so gills but whale like appearance

sounds good!

no subject

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)