Right now, you're staying with your parents until you can work out the finer details of moving up to Maine. The location is a well-cultivated cabin in the woods, with a lake and pine trees. You're inheriting it through your mother's father, who can no longer afford to live there. Mom and Dad were trying to leverage their contacts for jobs up Northeast. Apparently, you're in demand from some contract group or other, research and development.

Before crashing on the couch because your mother didn't want to encourage premarital sex, you read a couple of the offers, and some of them seemed quite high-end. Persistent gene therapy to treat victims of radiation? Meryl didn't seem to like that one, on the basis that she liked her genes the way they were and didn't want to risk some sort of science-experiment gone wrong. Another one was something called 'muscle optimization', which looked promising.

Still, there's something that bugs at you. You feel like you're forgetting something important.
Eh, whatever.
If you forgot it, it wasn't important.

---

But you're poked awake by an unwelcome gesture, and forced from your groggy stupor. Reality is somehow hot and stuffy while being cold and windy. Fuck reality. Blinking your eyes open, the new target of your ire is a familiar face, who's concealing a mixture of self-superiority and disgust at your lack of urgency. Oh. It's Daryl. Like Meryl, but instead of her being your fiancée, he's your younger brother. Uh. But not like that. Wow, you really are sluggish.

"So has our conquering champion decided to wake?" He's dressed in very nice business casual, with the variant of heavy but clean jeans and work suitable boots. Like your father, he aspires to sell chainsaws. He's a little more ambitious than Dad, but he's been tempered by blowback he's gotten for being old money in a world where haves and have-nots are at an all-time wide.

"Mom's got breakfast on- and has for about half an hour." That means he and Dad are about to head off to work- Daryl is 'apprenticing' under your father to succeed as the owner of Woodsman Works. He's probably still a little mad that you're getting a vacation and he's not, though he wouldn't say something like that outright. He's a big fan about bragging about how much he works, and hours to mastery and all that. But he should have let you sleep- you got in last night at a little after 10. Maybe this is eight hours of sleep, but you've just gotten off the road.

Any curses on your tongue are blunted by the smell of bacon and coffee. Being wealthy has some advantages, including having access to really good food.

>"We should talk when you get back." You haven't seen him in a while, even if he can be an annoying shit at times.
>"Where's Dad?" You had a question you wanted to ask him.
>"Have fun." You're not going to rise to his provocation. Instead, you're going to sleep in.
>"Half an hour? Isn't that bad for your digestion?" You read something about that once.
>[Write-In]

>>5471261
>Thanks
>"We should talk when you get back." You haven't seen him in a while, even if he can be an annoying shit at times.

Welcome back, Seba.
Also did we manage to knock Meryl up already? I mean we were at it quite a lot. Or would that be spoilers.

>>5471261
>>Thanks
>>"We should talk when you get back." You haven't seen him in a while, even if he can be an annoying shit at times.

>>5471261
>Thanks
>"We should talk when you get back." You haven't seen him in a while, even if he can be an annoying shit at times.
oh hey, s'back

>>5471261
>"We should talk when you get back." You haven't seen him in a while, even if he can be an annoying shit at times.

>>5471261
>>5471342
Support.

Good to see you're back!

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(Appreciate the patience!)
>>5471342
>>5471343
>>5471929
>>5472292
>>5472379
Thanks. That's the one response he wasn't really expecting, based on his sudden blinking.

He looks away for a second before turning back to you. "No problem."

We should talk when you get back. For a second, you see your brother as ten instead of twenty. It's kind of funny how a decade runs past. But... There's just some sort of connection that isn't there any more. He's blood, obviously, but... It just seems like you've gone different directions, and there's no going back.

Daryl's face falls, and it's obvious he sees things the same way. "Yeah." he stands up. You don't know what you're going to talk about, besides your upcoming marriage. You're not sure what there is to talk about. But you'll think of something. He's your brother. "See you then."

Your father enters the room, and you're reminded how close in appearance the three of you are. Blond, with a hard jaw and perpetually wide-open eyes. Among the men in the family, you're the most traditionally masculine, standing a half-foot taller than Dad. Daryl manages to be taller than him too, but your younger brother is much skinnier, basically the image of lean and mean. He also inherited Mom's green eyes, which has been the butt of many an unspoken joke.

Your mother once described you as 'your father, but bigger', which was an uncomfortable moment- thankfully, it happened in private. The man himself smiles faintly when he sees you awake, and nods. "Morning. There's still plenty of eggs. Just make sure to leave some for Alice and Meryl." And the bacon? Daryl and Dad give you a simultaneous look, Dad being more resigned and Daryl being more contemptuous. "Yes, Alex. There's plenty of bacon." You stand up, and he embraces you before preparing to head out.

I love you, Dad.

"I love you, too." He then checks himself over for his essentials and leaves. Daryl follows, and the garage and car echo in the background as you head into the dining room.

Meryl you can understand being slow to wake because of her time on the road. Alice, on the other hand, is just being lazy. Being a pretty blonde rich girl, she's gotten used to being treated well, especially when she hid in your shadow if she was rebuffed or ran into problems. She got shaken out of it when she 'borrowed' Mom's car at the age of 14. You were waiting to hear back from your college applications when you suddenly heard the front door open and felt the room temperature drop to freezing.

...Now's not the time for terrifying memories, though. Food's on, and you'd hate to keep Mom waiting. But there are still the other ladies.

>Go get Meryl yourself. It's your room, and she's your wife.
>Bother Alice to wake up Meryl. Those two need to get to know each other anyway.
>You've got some time alone with Mom, you want to break the news about Meryl.
>They'll wake up on their own time, focus on eating.
>[Write-In]

>>5473824
>Go get Meryl yourself. It's your room, and she's your wife.

>>5473824
>Go get Meryl yourself. It's your room, and she's your wife
Suppose she should be present in breaching the secret if not tell it herself

>>5473824
>Go get Meryl yourself. It's your room, and she's your wife.

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>>5474145
>>5474154
>>5474717
You change from your destination and head upstairs, looking to enter your childhood room. It's... There's something that makes you slow down. Some of these photos have been hanging here for longer than you've been alive. A few are even older than your parents. The weight of ages threatens to crush you, but you move up the stairs, remembering that every individual along the way must have seen their life the same way you saw yours- just your own. Daryl has embraced your heritage in the traditional sense, but you've done so in a different way. The Woodsmen will carry on with or without their Virginia residence- after all, there had to be other brothers in the past.

There's something else odd about some of the photos that strikes you. Looking at several, you try and put your finger on what it is. Trees are often in the background, but they've never been anything but a comfort to you- the clan has a habit of reforesting. Taking a look at the oldest one there, you can't see anything other but a familiar-looking ancestor and the men who work beside him, alongside their tools and some felled logs, which are stacked as benches for the photo. But... There's an anxiety, something just outside the cropped image. You put the image of the loggers and Hans Woodsman away. You can make memories and photos of your own, with the woman you're neglecting to wake up.

Opening the door, you're reminded that this room used to be painted in accordance to a childhood love of the Grimm fairy tales. Now all of those have a modern housing sheen covering up the images beneath. But your Red Riding Hood is fast asleep. Well, she isn't really little, and she's not wearing a hood, and she's the one sleeping... and this metaphor is useless. You walk over in the dark, only the light bleeding through the blinds guiding you, and gently whisper to her. Meryl keeps snoring, and drooling a little bit. So you nudge her gently, and she still doesn't move. You try to work on slowly increasing the intensity, but what happens instead is her snoring louder. Is she playing at being asleep? Well, she can save that for when you're in Maine.

Pinching the bridge of her nose to cut off her snoring, she opens her eyes immediately, proving she was playing at it. "Awex." Yes, beloved? "Whe?" Food. She groggily pulls your hand from her face and brings herself to sitting. "You could have just said that, you know." She's wearing the bra she was wearing when you got in, and it does a nice job of showing off her cleavage. Not that you're looking, of course, especially after she gives you a raised eyebrow. "Also, I need to shower, so go. Or your Mom will..." She looks at someone behind you, and you turn around to see Alice booking it away from your door and headed downstairs. Mom yells at her for running, and a yelling contest you can't hear clearly erupts.

(1/2)

(2/2 repost)

"Good news, you don't need to go any more. Let's just eat and work things out afterward." You go ahead of her, already clothed enough to sit at the table.

Alice is sitting at the table with a suppressed smile, trying to look inconspicuous. She wasn't here when Meryl was visiting during Christmas. She stayed with Grandpa at the cabin you're going to make your home... coming back to complain about how awful the whole experience was, without life's finer luxuries. Of average height and usually prettied up to be able to win men over with a wink, she plays the part of the innocent storybook Alice to anyone she thinks she can fool, and cuts everyone else down to size.

Meryl walks down in the shirt and shorts she showed up in last night, much the same as you. When she sees your wife-to-be, Alice's jaw visibly drops, not used to women as large as Meryl. "Geez, did you eat his last girlfriend?"

Mom gets angry before you do. "Alice!"

Meryl, on the other hand, opens her mouth and begins picking at her teeth mockingly, as if showing off fangs. "Why would I? She wouldn't be much of a meal." The implication is obvious: Alice is only as fit as it takes to lure boys, while Jessica was an athlete in her own right. Mom lets it go because Alice provoked the exchange. It's funny at first, but then you realize that the joke is going to seem in awful taste when you have to tell Mom about Meryl's heritage. Alice narrows her eyes.

Thankfully, in the presence of Mom, the barb-trading is left to a minimum. Once she's gotten enough pancakes and eggs in her, Alice heads upstairs, where she's sure to spend an hour or so prepping her makeup so she can go to the mall and strut about. With a small posse of other girls her age and a few boys dumb or horny enough to circle them, she should be fine. She's 'the unattainable one' in her clique, and acted as a consigliere for the local prom queen until they graduated.

The important part is that you don't need to see your trouble sibling for a bit. And Mom is here, preparing to griddle up more pancakes for Meryl, who is trying to come up with excuses to refuse. You rescue her from Death by Flapjacks by breaking the question of Meryl's heritage. Mom, you know when Meryl mentioned she had an albino mother?

Putting aside the homemade dry mix she uses for pancake batter, Mom gets serious and sits down. "Yes. There was another issue, wasn't there?" You feel yourself choking up. It's kind of a ridiculous statement to hear from the perspective of someone else, and your aqua-eyed partner stands by, in case you can't break the news.

>"Mom, Meryl's not entirely human." Tell her outright about the Dagonian situation- all you know about it.
>"Mom, Meryl comes from a rare lineage of Irishmen..." Spin a tale that will cover the basics in a way that isn't explicitly supernatural.
>Meryl has to explain it. She's the only one who can.
>"Actually, forget about it. We need Dad here."
>[Write-In]

>>5475759
>"Mom, Meryl's not entirely human." Tell her outright about the Dagonian situation- all you know about it.

>>5475759
>So, Mom, how do you feel about what is considered... supernatural?
let's maybe try to ease her into the concept.
Also some sort of demonstration may be necessary.

>>5475759
>>"Mom, Meryl's not entirely human." Tell her outright about the Dagonian situation- all you know about it.

>>5475779
>>5475780
>>5475791
So, Mom, how do you feel about what is considered... supernatural? Mom places a hand on her chest and her lips curl up in a joking smile. "W-What?"

Well, that tears it. No use beating around the bush.

"Mom, Meryl's not entirely human." When you start explaining to Mom, she pays close attention. At first, you don't notice a change in expression. But over time, the mixture of Meryl's slowly growing panic and your own clenching fist tell you that this description isn't going as well as you thought it was. Mom's eyes narrow, her head tilts, and a wide, shallow smile spreads over her face. No teeth appear. She doesn't interrupt you, she doesn't say anything. Did she have that many wrinkles a moment ago?

You describe everything you know, from the gills to the claws to the eyes to how Mrs. Cier doesn't have proper hair on her head. The depths of the ocean. The visual experience involving Dagon. The explanations are so vivid she should be able to visualize everything you speak about as if she were there in person. In fact, Meryl's eyes even flash that crystalline form they do when you're alone with her mystic form. Mom saw that, right? She can see that, right? You're not going insane.

Meryl's true nature is a continuous fact to you, and you swam with her at depths that wouldn't be possible if you were lying. But you're feeling intense pressure to renounce everything you just said, to 'admit' that it was all a delusion. Human beings are programmed at a physiological level to fit in: Infants denied comfort have a higher mortality rate, for instance. This is totally against that. American society may think the supernatural exists, but not something you can prove, and certainly not someone you can marry. Continuing to speak, even to one person, is like giving a speech to a murderous crowd. If Meryl weren't right here, you couldn't believe it yourself.

"Alex." You're finally interrupted, the thought you had vanishing in the presence of an innocuous question. You wait for some sort of scathing commentary on how you've been taken in by Meryl, but it doesn't come. Instead, she beams angelically. "Do you mind taking my car to go on a grocery run? We're short on some staples, there's a note on the fridge."

You're stunned for a second, and Meryl is as well. Mom, what?

"Just a short nip out for goods, because you two are here." She smiles, but it's a stock expression, not a genuine one. "Please, Alex. Meryl and I need to have some girl talk time." This reminds you of Red Riding Hood again... and Roald Dahl.

Meryl thinks it over with an intense sweat, before saying, "Alex, it's fine."

>"No, it's not." Stay and demand a response.
>Mom's made up her mind. Just drop it and go, like she says.
>"Mom, are you..." Is she not human? Are you? That seems impossible.
>"Okay. But I plan to eat out with Daryl for dinner so we can catch up."
>[Write-In]

>>5478334
>Mom, I’m being level with you, I’d appreciate the same from you. I love you. I love Meryl, and I trust her to have a future, a family and a home together.

>I also trust you and your intentions but I really, really don’t want any misunderstandings.

>>5478334
>"No, it's not." Stay and demand a response.

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(Apologies, this saw a couple revisions!)
>>5478862
>>5479084
Ultimately, you put your foot down in refusal, something that surprises your mother more than it surprises Meryl. You want to know why she wants you to leave, and you want her to know you really are serious. Maybe it's a little more romantic than practical, but that's life. Sometimes you make serious decisions for reasons other than convenience. While you do your best to remain level-headed, you don't have a heart of stone. You're really in love with her, and she's really in love with you. Meryl reaches out to take your hand, and you feel a wave of warmth as she takes hold of it.

Your mother looks aside, bitterly gathering her resolve. It's tragic that she's showing so much resistance to the woman she herself advocated you marry, but she doesn't seem to believe your story. She walks away from the table in a haze, heading into the master bedroom, and you're unsure of what's going to happen. "I'm sorry," Meryl whispers, but you re-assure her. There's nothing to apologize for. She doesn't seem to agree, and is inches from crying, suppressing her tears. It's clear she believes that her nature has ruined your relationship with your family instantly. You assure her you'll be with her, and she nods. "I know."

But rather than calling your father or beginning to cry, Mom returns with a jewelry box small enough for a ring. Opening it, she places it on the table in front of you. "This belonged to your grandfather," she states, and refuses to look at either of you. There's a symbol on the ring that you don't recognize, and when you take a closer look at it, Meryl pulls away. It's a simple ring, and it looks like it's made of steel, but it doesn't seem rusted or scratched in the slightest. Whatever this is, its significance is lost on you.

"My father-in-law couldn't keep a job outside of the government." she arches her fingers over her nose and closes her eyes, moderating her breathing. You remember Grandpa as being quite fun, if a bit odd, but you attributed that to age. "Your father was put in charge of the family business at the age of eighteen, by his grandfather. As soon as that happened, his mother divorced, back when that was becoming more common." You always wondered why you never saw Grandma for a while, but that was an age ago. She still talks to Dad, but barely knows the rest of you.

Meryl is still staying away from the ring, and seems to understand its significance. You still don't, so you want more information, and ask about it from Mom. "That ring is part of a fraternity, called Yggdrasil. It's closer to a conspiracy, really. Obviously, your grandfather was a member. I didn't think much of it- I wanted to stay out of it, and so did your father. The reason we have the ring at all is that your grandfather quit over an ideological split but held onto the ring just in case."

(1/2)

(2/2)

A conspiracy? You blurt out, A conspiracy to do what?

"Kill people like Meryl," she says. "Vampires. Werewolves. Sea...People," she says, trying to remain even-tempered. "Magic, too. Anything that exists, even partially, outside of humanity's world."

"But that's just what I'm trying to fix," Meryl protests. "By devoting myself to your son, I literally become more human."

Mom clutches her chair's armrests, and says, "Meryl, these people know who you are, don't they? They know who we are, too. Maybe, if you had proposed to anyone else, they could have turned a blind eye to it. But to these people-" she holds up the ring "-it's nothing less than a direct insult. Whether you intended to or not, they probably think you picked him specifically to piss them off, or to corrupt him. I've spent most of my adult life averting my eyes from this kind of thing to keep the wrong attention away from my family- it's enough of a problem to be on friendly terms with political figures, much less hold a position on eldritch beings."

She crosses her arms and glares at you. "And since you're not leaving, I guess I have to come clean. I was going to give her an out- and figure out what her true colors were. Be as romantic as you want, Alex Hyllus Woodsman, but this is dangerous in more ways than you can appreciate. There are people who want you, Meryl, and any child of yours dead. We can do a lot of things, but hiding you isn't really one of them." Mom stands, and walks back towards the master bedroom. "It seems I'll have to rely on Dr. Sheridan to give you more than just a job offer." Stopping and turning, she pleads with you, "Until then, please be safe. I'll talk to your father when he gets home."

Well, that was depressing. But the tension lifts, for the most part. Meryl leans back, winking with one eye. "I guess I got all worked up for..." Not nothing, but not the right kind of concern? She shrugs. "I guess." Your redheaded fiancee is trying to relax, but she's a bit stir-crazy after that particular exchange.

>The backyard is pretty nice, just hanging out in the summer is relaxing around here.
>There are some small family shops that make for good window shopping, even if you aren't going to buy anything.
>Alice had the right idea when it came to going to the mall.
>Bowling is good clean fun. Not a lot that can go wrong there.
>Canoodling is an option- Mom won't be looking after you for a bit.
>[Write-In]

>>5480748
Oh boy. Talk about star crossed. Well, we'll find a way to make this work. Maybe persuasion could be an option? That personification in the vision did not seem personally invested in squashing Meryl so maybe the conspiratists can be argued with as well. If they have some moral code of their own maybe we can prove our integrity and Meryl's harmlessness somehow. She's the one "corrupting" herself, after all, so to speak.
Barring that, maybe there's possibility of elusion.
For now though...

>Ask Meryl if she has a preference
then default to
>The backyard is pretty nice, just hanging out in the summer is relaxing around here.

>>5480748
>Ask Meryl if she has a preference
then default to
>The backyard is pretty nice, just hanging out in the summer is relaxing around here.

A secret society with the Elder Sign as their signet? That's not good, it'll not be easy to convince them that our little Dagonian is harmless. We should talk to the father in law about them, he probably knows them and he might have some pointers.

>>5480748
>Any nice scenery in the local area? Perhaps we could go for a nice scenic walk.

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>>5480901
>>5481070
>>5482333
Placing what dishes you can in the sink for later clearing, you explain some ideas, to help relieve the moment's tension. Meryl's preference was similar to yours, but before you could list all of the options, she lured you outside herself. "Come on. You woke me up, so let's get outside." As if she lived here, she unlocks one of the sliding glass doors and waves. "We'll save on laundry," she jokes, and you follow her, before guiding her in turn to a cobbled pathway. It leads out to a gazebo, and then on a slimmer path further into the open air.

The sun beams down. At this point of day, it's just cool enough to be relaxing and the sun is bearing down enough to keep you warm. Meryl is walking ahead of you again, and she thinks quietly, turning around and giving you another one of her wry grins. Back when she proposed to you, you thought of it as a smirk, but it's different. Smirks are common, they're cynical, and they're also adversarial. You've seen too many, and read of even more. A smirk quickly resigns a situation to a poor outcome, and there's a real fear things are never going to get better in the world. The grin she gives you is playful, but it's hopeful. Enjoying the outdoors?

"Yup!" Meryl twirls in place, and you can't help but admire her agility. You think your fiancée would make a good ballerina or figure skater, but her body shape isn't for it. She's muscular, but she's also quite womanly, so while she has the balance and control, your brother wouldn't partner with her on ice. He probably couldn't lift her, even if you let him. Your beloved doesn't seem as confined to outdoors as her mother supposedly is, but it's clear she prefers vital air to sterile. Back in college, she bought canned oxygen for long study sessions. It didn't help you, but she might be more sensitive.

Here, the dogwood and the open spaces, some rolling hills and a little grass, flowers and a far-off flowing stream... Keeping hold of this estate was a historical priority for your family, because it's not only valuable, it's incredibly pretty and cheerful. In the green and brown of the ground and trees, Meryl's red stands out, and compliments the white flowers. Right on the tail of the school year, this was perhaps the best time to come home. In the winter, it was cold, and while conversations around the fire could be warm, fireplace beat firepit. Now, the breeze is a cool relief, not a chilly assault.

"I think that was some real luck." Lucky that your grandfather was a monster hunter? How? Stopping to look at a small patch of multicolored flowers, she glances back and continues. "Something happened. When it comes to killers, it's rare that they run into something worth stopping over: He was probably a good person." You knew Yggdrasil existed before now. She nods. "Yes. But there's more than enough time to worry and stew."

(1/2)

(2/2 repost)

Taking your hand, she tugs you along, but as she speeds up, her infectious cheerfulness spreads enough that you outpace her and lead her a little off of the cobbled path, pulling her into you and lifting her into your arms. Being a little over five-thirds her weight, this approximate to bridal carry is easier for you than it would be for most. By her expression and squirming, the conflict doesn't seem to be over whether or not she enjoys it (she does) so much as embarrassment over the apparent lack of effort. "You know I can carry you... Not as easily, but I can do it." You're sure she can, given how she moved in the ocean.

Teasing her only goes so far, so you let her down carefully and take a seat where the grass is dry. She gets partially beside you, and you stare at the blue sky and the hills that are cordoned off at a distance with fences. Once there were hunting grounds here, and the gazebo you passed by was a rotunda. Time always has a habit of taking things away or making them more meaningful. Kissing you on the cheek, she leans into you. Perhaps due to the food and the warmth, she begins to nod off. As she rests on your shoulder and almost begins to nap, you're happy Meryl feels so secure here she can sleep. Even knowing what she knows... You suppose it's only fair.

Despite this closeness and the warmth of the sun and the coolness of the breeze, you can't help being anxious. This is the woman who will be mother of your children, and that has problems for both of you. It's entirely possible your father has taken after his own in secret, and not told you or anyone else. Even if that's not the case, there are a lot of practical reasons he might turn you out: He has his heir already selected, and it's not you. He's a figure of national, if minor, importance. Frankly, he might be afraid of a non-human. Even if he isn't, Yggdrasil can probably still put pressure on him. Worst of all, Meryl's own relatives could be dangerous: Dr. Cier has probably killed people, in self-defense or not, and Meryl's mother is definitely not 'sane' in the modern sense.

Once the wedding is over, it's possible you'll be functionally disowned for everyone else's safety. Everything you're going to do in your hometown, whether mending ties with Daryl or ending on good terms with Chase and Jessica... you need to do it now.

>Daryl is the evening's priority, so getting some time in with Meryl now is important: You'll do as she likes for the day.
>The situation with Chase and Jessica needs to be settled. There's no way you're having a wedding disaster.
>Meryl ought to see your hometown in depth, if she's not going to see it again. It'll be fun.
>No. This won't be the end of anything. You're going to keep your family. Your whole family.
>[Write-In]

Part of the reason it took me so long to create thread three was my odd new work schedule. Also, thanks Notepad++. Again.

>>5484428
>No. This won't be the end of anything. You're going to keep your family. Your whole family.
>Meryl ought to see your hometown in depth, if she's not going to see it again. It'll be fun.
We're not losing our family. We should still go out with Meryl to see our hometown.

No worries QM, I'm just glad you didn't vanish on us.

>>5484428
>We can't force our family to accept us if they choose otherwise, but we will not be pushing them away.
>Share our fond memories of the town with Meryl if she shows interest but don't force her to familiarize herself with it

I'd like to give our best effort to being on good terms with our family, but not bending over backwards for it. At the end of the day we need to respect each other's choices after all.

>>5484457
>>5484472
There's an old philosophical idea called the 'golden mean' where if you take two extremes and go to the middle, you usually get a good idea. Instead of being absolutely pacifist or absolutely furious, you fight when you have to and are peaceful when you can be. Well, there's a variant on it, where if you take two ideas and run them out simultaneously, you get something that's better than either the individual extremes or the mean. Fighting with absolute conviction and negotiating with absolute consideration. She's your wife, but your wife is part of your family. If you 'give them up', then it's a little hard to see them at the wedding. And they owe it to your wife to treat her as part of your family. Dad is just gonna have to deal with it. And so is everyone else, because taking her on a tour of your hometown is both entertaining and will keep your leg from falling asleep.

She gives you a kiss before the two of you head back inside. As the sliding door closes, Alice stops to wave to you before heading out with her horde of well-dressed demons. "Congrats!"

Meryl is confused, but smiles. "Had a change of heart, huh?" she smiles. Having a vote of confidence from the sister-in-law is welcome, clearly.

"Nope, I just heard the arguing." You almost stop her to explain, but she completes the thought with, "If it's a girl, name her Alice!" You have pretty good burst speed, but between not wanting to break the floor and being too shocked, the minx vanishes with a laugh.

"...At least it's easy to disprove," she grumbles. "Anyway, bowling, right?" Or one of the shopping districts, or the theater, or the arcade, or your high school, or all of it, though the high school is probably closed.

Shopping district is easy, because there's a lot of access to everything else from there, and also because with a wedding on the horizon, stuff that's more durable and not for college-use is on the horizon. Moving some of the bigger stuff to Maine might be a bad idea, and not giving your friends anything to shop for might be a problem, but window shopping works.

"God yes," Meryl nods. "Decoration is something my dad never did well. Inscrutable etchings from a long-dead Tuathde civilization, or maybe tide charts, pegged to the wall with thumbtacks. When I said shack, I meant shack. And all of the fish. College dorms were an upgrade." Decorative ceramics and paintings would be your first choice of the day, then, and it's especially lucky because the owner is the son of your old football coach.

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Kossi Pottery and Ceramics. African-culture creations share space with Greek and Mediterranean vases. All handmade. This guy is an art student by his own merit alone and even leads community college classes. He's a genuine master, though you don't talk much. He just gives you a nod and lets you look at whatever you like. It's a slow day, and during the work week, so you have the place all to yourself. Red and white clay, in all colors and styles, even Native American.

Meryl looks at a plate that has a design that reminds you of images you've seen associated with Seattle. "Hey, I recognize that!" She points at the plate. "Black Cod?"

The man shakes his head from the sketch he's preparing. "Original. Though I did meet some Haida Gwaii."

"Hm. I thought they were part of the same culture group," she frowns.

"You guys aren't looking for wedding plates, are you?" the artisan asks calmly. "We just had a couple come through, so you'll be in a line for a while. It takes a while to make a full set- I could get you a standard design in a month." He holds up a hand. "Alternatively, if you just wanted a centerpiece, I could guide you through it. A couple's gift. You'd have that by the end of the week."

Meryl likes that idea. "Oh, we don't even need to use that, we could put it on the wall. Your thoughts?" Your family has never been a fan of heraldry, but something the two of you could call your own is appealing. It would be a permanent reminder.

>Use the town's seal- you forget what it is, but you're sure they make plates of it.
>The Cier family doesn't have anything, does it?
>Forget old-timey seals, the two of you can take a day to sketch something out.
>By the way, is Coach in?
>By the way, another couple?
>[Write-In]

>>5486952
>Forget old-timey seals, the two of you can take a day to sketch something out.
>By the way, is Coach in?
>By the way, another couple?
Something new, and all the questions.

>>5486952
>>Forget old-timey seals, the two of you can take a day to sketch something out.
Maybe we could find a way to incorporate something from both of us into a harmonious whole.
>>By the way, is Coach in?
>>By the way, another couple?

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>>5486961
>>5487005
It's up to the two of you to make your own new way of looking at things, and if nothing else, it's got to be fun, and a good bonding exercise. High ideas. And lots and lots of revisions. Some of them are better than others. There's a lot of tracing involved, and green and blue end up being the focus colors. Calm and natural. Intense red was never really your thing. One of the stencils includes fish, and you use it to tease Meryl, but she demands it be excluded, causing raised eyebrows as to what the fuss is about. The hasty excuse that her dad's a marine biologist is enough to make it work.

The final result coming from your little coordinated attempt didn't render as well as you had thought. It's pretty elaborate, but the edges are unclear, blooming out from their edges irregularly. "Kind of janky, isn't it? But you've got a good general idea. Lots of whirly bits."
Meryl even cringes a bit ashamed by how it came out, but the plate-maker shrugs. "I've seen much worse done with much less effort. Seems like you like spiral patterns." Your mind was jogged by the image with the salmon, that's all.

"I'd say it hurts to look at, but it doesn't," Meryl admits. "Good job." She gives you a scratch under the chin like a dog, and suddenly you feel the need to re-assert yourself. But you suppress it for now, because once you start that, you won't be able to stop. Okay, maybe you can get in a quick squeeze while the artist isn't looking. That puts her back into bashful mode.

After a few minutes, the practiced platemaker proposes a much better counter-offer, and Meryl is stunned. "Woah. It's like what I was visualizing, but couldn't draw."

Your new buddy is getting a bit puffed up, so you ride that pride into one of the questions you wanted to ask about. Another couple? So soon?

"Yeah," he nods. "Recently married, like maybe a month? Seemed to be a shotgun, which was funny 'cause she wasn't pregnant. She was moody, though. They booked it for California like their van was on fire. I think the guy was wearing a Vegas hoodie." A Vegas hoodie? That sounds familiar. Can't place it, though. It's on the tip of your tongue.

Meryl sits up, like she knows what's going on, but when you prompt her, she merely sits down again. "I think it'll be for the best if we focus on each other for the time being." This is the part where she would be whistling nonchalantly, if she were in a cartoon. She knows who it is, which means you probably know too.

Speaking of people you know... By the way, is Coach in?

"Dad'll be bringing in lunch," the platemaker says. Sure thing, there he is now, opening the door to the sound of an entry chime.

(1/2)

(2/2)

Coach Kossi would sometimes bring in fast food for post-game films, despite the complaints about bad eating habits. Not a lot of healthy ways to make fried chicken sandwiches, but after the gridiron, you were hurting for calories. You weighed about a hundred pounds heavier than you did now, and had higher bench and deadlift scores. But you'd consider yourself healthier, especially with Meryl's preferred diet of seafood influencing your own.

The man was a good mentor, especially to boys from troubled situations, and could get them to follow your lead off the field. Pete did that too, but when you became a senior, Coach would sometimes rely on you to lead other boys in studying. Needless to say, there was a kind of nostalgia about Coach and bringing food- but you've eaten enough for the time being. You'll worry about your and your wife's incessant calorie consumption later.

"Alex?" Kossi is astonished, tilting his head as if you were unrecognizable. "You look completely different now. When your dad talked about seeing you at Christmas it was no joke." He also looks at Meryl and asks, "Friend or..."

"Fiancee," Meryl is little miffed that it wasn't clear. She's so pretty, after all.

Coach puts down the bag and hands a burger to his son. "Didn't want to assume, but that figures. Pete and Chase both married girls now- At least Pete's stayed in town. I guess that's not the case for you, given your little brother." He looks at Meryl and, seems to scrutinize her. Instinctively, you check Coach's hands for rings, but he only has his wedding band on. However, he appears to approve, and sets down with his paper bag next to his son. "Well, if my word's any good, you got about as good as you could get. This guy went State Champion and All-American in the same year. He didn't get into any robotics clubs or what not, but he was a huge help to a couple of kids and kept one out of prison."

Indeed. You kept the rookie running back out of juvie. He tried to stab you when you led some of the other players to remind the delinquent he was on a team. You responded appropriately: By hoisting him over your head and threatening to break him in half. Nobody who was there ratted. Kossi isn't lying, he just doesn't know. And he never will, if you have your way.

Meryl snaps you back into reality. "Hello? Earth to Alex?" You make some hasty excuses and she smiles. "I smell a story." No. No you do not.
This is bad. You're frantically trying to think of something inspiring, but after that, all you can remember are near-misses!

>"You first. Got any good swim team stories?" Meryl was an athletic swimmer, wasn't she?
>"How's the new team, Coach?" Quick, deflect!
>Who's that over there? Oh, they're an excuse to leave!
>Well, you don't want to interrupt a family meal!
>Wait, you remembered the Vegas hoodie guy's name!
>[Quick, think of something!]

>>5490703
>>Wait, you remembered the Vegas hoodie guy's name!

>>5490703
>Well, you don't want to interrupt a family meal!

>>5490703
>Wait, you remembered the Vegas hoodie guy's name!

>>5490703
>"How's the new team, Coach?" Quick, deflect!

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(I got hit with several back to back shifts over this weekend, sorry.)
>>5490764
>>5491224
>>5493316
>>5495891
Your extended thought raises more attention than you had anticipated, so you improvise. Well, we don't want to impose on a family meal. The reactions you get indicate this overreaction appears to have come out of the blue.

"Who's 'we'?" Meryl asks, giving you one of those 'we're talking about this later' looks. Your excuse cycle stops dead, and you look to Coach, delaying your response based on his input.

"You're not imposing on anything," Coach corrects, and his potter son agrees, though the artisan is a bit more suspicious now, sitting up and looking at you. You're less nervous, now, but there's something that falls into place when you talk to Coach. A Vegas hoodie?

He's a hoodie-wearing guy who looks like he hasn't shaved in a week and has deep bags under his eyes.
You hide your dawning realization with a question: How's the new team, Coach? The sudden connection continues percolating in the background.

He seems happy that your mind is back on track, even though you know that's only superficially true. "Well, the fact that we haven't gotten a championship run since your group's golden season has stuck in the craw of a lot of the newcomers, so they've been doing their best to replicate it, including performing a shutout versus the Bobcats."
That's especially interesting, because the Bobcats nearly killed your season. You barely won a 35-28 slugout, when a last-second interception ended their final drive. When you finally got back home, your at-the-time girlfriend pestered you with texts... and broke up remotely when you were still fast asleep. She was kind of a bitch anyway.
"What are you guys called?" Scoville Spartans. "Creative." Hmph.
You skipped out on prom because of that, but hung out with some of the guys, so it wasn't a complete loss. The world's most dapper bowling team. You even convinced Chase to wear a t-

"I went to Vegas for the experience. That was a mixed bag. I learned a lot about myself. Some of it wasn't good."
Your jaw instinctively closes. The concentration it takes to follow your own internal thought process and keep up in the conversation are being followed by the younger Kossi. He stares you down as Coach explains the details of the most recent bid for the championship, ended by a loss early in the season but redeemed somewhat by a rivalry victory after the loss the year previous. Meryl seems utterly confused, but you're too distracted yourself to poke fun. You just remembered who was wearing the hoodie. After all, it was about a week ago.

Wow, Chase really let himself go. What happened?
FUCK, of course. You nearly say that out loud. Everything fits. The real question, given recent events, is what he learned.

(1/2)

(2/2)

You broach the question as casually as possible. Coach, you said Chase was married, right? The connection hits Meryl the second after you said that. It seems, like you, she had assumed they were just dating. In retrospect, it seems obvious.

"Yeah, adorable little thing." Your arm reflexively clenches, remembering the scratches on it. No. No she is not. Okay, maybe a little, but you're engaged, so fantasizing about other women is off limits, no matter how fun it is. There's a lot more fun to be had with Meryl at other times, because you're in public. You'll find a way to get past Mom's refusal to host your wife as a wife. Or maybe you can just hold hands in public. Scandalous.

It's good to hear they're happy, you say as emphatically and honestly as you can. You calm yourself down. You're just being overly concerned. Meryl is happy you've given up completely on your old flame, and her shared nod is tainted by the smug sensation of gloating over eliminated competition.

"Headed to California in a hurry, too," the artisan reminds you. "Bickering a bit, but not over anything serious- she was very particular about buying the full set of ceramic dishware here."
"Hung up about something like that?"
"We have very low prices, and it was a lot of dishes. It was also a lot of bubble wrap."

"Yeah, the wife was really good at keeping costs down," Coach says proudly. "About a third of the cost of imported goods is transport." That's... Interesting? You're just relieved everything got resolved without anything else exploding. The problem that arises from this is who you should select as best man. You can worry about best men another time- you've got an even better woman right here, and time is passing. Coach Kossi checks the clock, and when the conversation dries up, he sends you off with a handshake for you both and a pat on the back for you. "Congratulations- and good luck!"

You'll definitely need that. But it's just after midday- stopping in elsewhere and enjoying the day with Meryl is your top priority.

>The outdoors was fun this morning, having a small walk and picnic in the local park should do nicely.
>If you're very lucky, the Scouts might be playing. If not, then maybe just visiting the baseball diamond would be enough.
>An arcade isn't exactly uncommon, but the bowling alley and arcade have some unique charm to them.
>Mom's occupied and everyone else is out of the house. If you go home, you should be able to enjoy yourselves in private.
>[Write-In]

>>5496341
>>If you're very lucky, the Scouts might be playing. If not, then maybe just visiting the baseball diamond would be enough.

>>5496341
>The outdoors was fun this morning, having a small walk and picnic in the local park should do nicely.

>>5496341
>>The outdoors was fun this morning, having a small walk and picnic in the local park should do nicely.

>>5496341
>The outdoors was fun this morning, having a small walk and picnic in the local park should do nicely.

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>>5496351
>>5496417
>>5496618
>>5498403
Your mermaid wife's hunger is appeased by a stop in to the local grocery store, which has a deli preparing sandwiches specifically for lunch. Cranberry chicken salad sandwiches, cut picnic style, it's a real treat. The sun is warm, the wind is cool, and it's quiet, but containing the sounds of nature. The light isn't too intense, given the tree cover on the perimeter of the walkway. You would sometimes run here, when you were working out for football. It's close to two miles for every loop, though you need to run fourteen times for a marathon.

There's a pond that can be kayaked in in the center, and some small fish that swim too. Fishing's prohibited, but sometimes kids come out with nets anyway. Apparently the police caught a guy trying to gig frogs. Prior to the walkabout, there are small open areas, some relative high ground, and the whole place is surrounded by a forest of sorts, which expands until it reaches where development has taken place. There's a foot trail leading all the way to an old logging site your family owned.

When Meryl finishes eating, she nearly falls asleep again, but this time coyly opens one eye to show she's just faking. "Come on, we've got the night for that. Though you did wake me up." You shift the blame to Daryl, but your wife isn't letting you go that easily. "Oh, quit it. you grabbed my nose. Come on, let's take a look around. A preview for Maine, maybe." You dump the trash in the trash can and take a stroll.

Walking in the midst of Virginia's wildlife is soothing, and while it's not quite as secure as your home or as wild as Maine, it's got cultivated peace, and a nice, rolling pace to it. Meryl's distracted gaze tells you she still misses the ocean, but her pouting is limited. She walks beside the woods mostly charmed by the sights and scents- sweet flowers and serene backgrounds. With the two of you alone, she takes your hand again and leads you along, slowing down and letting go for a second, before turning to face you.

"Hey, I said I could carry you," she's suddenly holding her arms out. Wait, is she serious? "You're what, one-tenth of a ton?" ...Tons as measurement? "An eighth?" Does she think you're fat? "Two-fifty should be fine. I'm stronger than I look, obviously. Even away from home." Ah, yeah... She's stronger at sea because of her people's connection to the sea. Kind of like the opposite of how she can't perform superhuman feats in public- the deep ocean runs on Dagonian logic, which means she doesn't have human limits.

(1/2)

(2/2)

But something about this doesn't seem right. Are you sure this is a good idea? In response, she gives you puppy-dog-eyes. Dogfish eyes? Puppyfish eyes? In any effect, you walk up and let your wife try to lift you. She starts with her arms outstretched, but finds she's not able to budge you off of your toes. "Sorry, need to get leverage." Undeterred, she hugs you closer, and then tries to pick you up. While it is nice having her chest on yours, she's not able to move you beyond a very pathetic short lift, after which she falls back onto you, gasping with effort.

You're not sure how to console her, especially when the smell of cigarette smoke interrupts the moment. The 'park ranger', an old man who picks up the trash and performs beautification, is here to clear out a nearby bin. Meryl looks at him with a silent demand not to say anything, face flush with embarrassment. The eighty-plus-year-old looks at you and then shrugs. He replaces the liner bag and walks away as if nothing were amiss.

---

A despondent Meryl becomes almost catatonic after she finds out from a bulletin board that there was a practice game for the Scouts. You would have had the whole stadium to yourselves. You re-assure her that it wasn't that bad. Pete talked about being a mascot for the Scouts and the games were only good when there was a huge crowd. It's a weekday and everyone at work is working, so at best you would have gotten to talk to the team, or she would have been able to borrow the costume. Worst case is they would have kept the gate locked and told you to pound sand.

Ultimately, retreating to the Woodsman residence is in order. But cigarette smoke returns again, this time at the hands of a heavy-lensed woman who's got a pixie cut. You mistake her for a man at first. She immediately snuffs out the cigarette, having lit up away from the household for courtesy's sake. Meryl still doesn't like the smell, and you don't recognize this woman initially.

"Huh." A croaking voice emerges from the middle-aged twig's throat. "They really make 'em big these days." She's one of the few women Meryl isn't taller than, and you start to wonder if everyone involved in this madness is abnormally tall. She speaks to Meryl instead of you when she smarms, "'Course, my husband is taller." When Meryl doesn't laugh, she drops the joking. "Doctor Leia Sheridan. Happened to be in the area after a funeral. I've been asked to consult about a 'Boston albino'."

>So this is your new employer? Is she looking to do a job interview now of all times?
>Is she related to Meryl's mother? There's parallels here, but this one seems sane.
>You vaguely remember that Meryl's not supposed to see doctors, so you're not eager to open up. She might not be legit.
>A funeral? Mom never mentioned that. Anyone you know?
>Leia? As in Princess Leia?
>[Write-In]

>You vaguely remember that Meryl's not supposed to see doctors, so you're not eager to open up. She might not be legit.

>>5500379
>So this is your new employer? Is she looking to do a job interview now of all times?

>>5500379
>>A funeral? Mom never mentioned that. Anyone you know?
let's poke and prod a bit...

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(Finally got the time off, tis the season to get bogged down in bullshit before finally being released.)
>>5500394
>>5500399
>>5500438
Not the most encouraging situation, to be honest. You look at her with a mixture of confusion and distrust. Was this the best Mom could do for a recommendation? As far as you know, this woman might as well want to put Meryl in a fishbowl. She acts all nice at first, and then your fiancee ends up on a dissection table literally underground. You're not totally up for this, especially because she's both the person hiring you AND the woman diagnosing Meryl. You read those pamphlets on genetic work- maybe Meryl's unique genes are just what she wants. So you focus on what you can relate to- a curious little factoid you might be able to hammer at to break her personal armor. A funeral? Anyone we know?

"Nah," she says sardonically, reflexively putting the cigarette back in her mouth before realizing that she put it out and sneering at herself. "Damn... Sorry, it was nobody important. Just some old asshole who ruined my life."

"Late father or ex-husband?" Meryl asks, still bristling with nervousness.

"Dad," Dr. Sheridan confirms. "I take it you have experience?"

"With bad fathers, not bad husbands." She gives you an aside look. Is that a warning? Come on, she knows you. Surprisingly, the doctor takes your side.

"Well, I'm happily married, or we try to be. Hubby's a bit out there, but you can only hope for so much." She points at you. "You don't happen to be a megalomaniac?" No... "Hearing some hesitation there, champ." She laughs, but it's closer to a braying given her obscene smoking habit. "I'm kidding. That makes you an improvement on her father and my husband, God bless him." You really hope she's talking about two different people.

"You know my father?" Meryl now seems more alert and alarmed than ever. Your beloved feesh is getting awfully wound up over today.

"The same way a judge knows a drunk," Dr. Sheridan holds up her hands defensively. "Relax, you're not in trouble by proxy. I work with so many crazy people I practically qualify as a counselor."

Okay, this diversion has diverted enough. What are you really here for? you ask.

Dr. Sheridan stops in the middle of the next joke she was thinking of. Getting solemn, she says with utter sincerity, "I'm here to offer you advice, protection, and a job. It would be hard to give one without the others, so I'm going to have to hope you liked those pamphlets." She takes off her heavy glasses and you're expecting to see some unusual color of eyes, but she's just exhausted, and squinting. She cleans her glasses before replacing them. "I work for March Industries. We do jobs nobody else is allowed to do. We're not with the government- if we were, we would be under a lot more scrutiny- but sometimes they come to us, when they want to buy something we made."

(1/2)

(2/2)

"Isn't your husband a Senator?" Meryl asks. "Seems like an obvious conflict of interest."

"He's not usually involved, and he's also an extreme anarcho-capitalist, so he wouldn't care even if his peers do." she shrugs. "I have no idea how he got elected, besides sheer charisma. But enough about politics." She gestures to lead you two inside. "We can't do this in public. Your features won't show in the presence of ordinary people."

If nothing else, you can get Mom's confirmation this is not a crazy doctor and just a regular doctor. Sure enough, Mom's there to greet her friend. "Alex, Meryl, this is Doctor Leia. She's got a unique perspective on all of this... gene situation." Meryl still seems nervous, and Mom isn't surprised. "I'm sorry if this makes you uncomfortable. There just isn't anyone else I could trust."

"Don't worry, I'm only going to give you a superficial inspection, and only with your permission." The doctor shuffles through her purse. "You guys technically live on seabed internationally recognized as US territory, so we had to start applying legal precedent similar to that of Native Americans. I'm just going to verify everything works and you don't have any abhorrent mutations. Incest tends to do that, and like it or not, Dagonians have a lot."

"And if I don't give my permission?" Meryl hides beside you.

"Then you should at least know that male Dagonian hybrids don't have an upper growth limit, which is why the only ones that show ninety percent of the time are females. The rest slowly become too big to walk around." Meryl pales, indicating she didn't know that. Dr. Sheridan is pissed off at that. "Your mom seriously didn't tell you anything. If you want to know more things that might be useful for your future life with Hubby, you need to give me permission."

"Fine," your wife says, as if walking over to a torturer. "But make it fast."

"If you want to be in private, I have something I need to talk to my son about," Mom says. "It's about Daryl." Your initial reaction is to refuse- you need to be by Meryl's side for this- but is that really the right decision here?

>Of course it is! She's obviously terrified!
>You love Meryl, but you can't constantly cling to her. You'll talk about it after this dust settles.
>Meryl's privacy is important, but you need the medical knowledge. Speak to the doctor after the inspection.
>You'll talk with Mom, but only because Daryl might be a secret monster-hunter or something.
>Oh God, Mom found the porn stash.
>[Write-In]

>>5506570
>You love Meryl, but you can't constantly cling to her. You'll talk about it after this dust settles.
Squeeze her hand
I hope this is not a mistake but we really can’t be her shadow constantly and mother seems to trust her…

>>5506570
>Of course it is! She's obviously terrified!
Nope, not leaving her alone for this.

Rolled 1 (1d2)

Merry Christmas to those who celebrate it, I'll post a themed addendum when I get the chance. That will likely be the last group of posts in the thread, following this update.
>>5506582
>>5506737
Mom is giving you that look that makes it clear you've got to speak now or be shuffled off to discuss whatever kind of horrible matter she thinks is up with Daryl. You have but a moment to decide whether or not this is worth fighting over. It won't be that crucial, will it?

>>5506582
>>5506737
>>5508690

You take Meryl's hand and hold it for a second. She squeezes it in return, and looks at you with her deep blue eyes. Dr. Sheridan sighs. "Don't be so dramatic, will you? It's not that bad." Nobody else in the room likes that, with Mom having the driest expression, but the checkup goes forward as planned. Meryl's claws can probably nix any efforts to turn the inspection into a dissection, anyway.

That handled, Mom takes you aside with a pained smile, the same that she wore when you told her Meryl was a Dagonian. "I don't mean to be demanding, Alex, but it's the nature of every woman to seek grandchilden." Who said that? She frowns, and then smiles harder. "I did. Now, please listen." Mom opens a nearby drawer and pulls out a small stack of papers. Your heart jumps into your throat, as you realize this is a pile of badly printed anime pinups. What the hell?

She hands them to you to hold. You're dumbstruck, but flip through them. Every single one has the same factor in common: They're all drawings of flat-chested women. Most of them are tall and pale, with dark hair. A few are androgynous. A very small group are muscular. Thankfully, none of them are nude, just in lingere. In any case, you're baffled. You have no idea what this is supposed to mean, what you're supposed to conclude from this.

"Alex," Mom asks cautiously, "I wanted to make sure your brother got the support he needed." For what, enjoying Japanese porn? You know this was a huge invasion of privacy, right? "It is not. This is my household and I'm entitled to check in on traffic that passes through my network." You're pretty sure that's illegal, but Mom addresses what she thinks the main point is. "Not important. Alex, if Daryl is homosexual, then you need to make sure that you treat decisions made using his good judgement with respect."

... You're seeing a new side of your parents you weren't happy to find out about, and this is the worst possible time to discover it. With gritted teeth, you try and find a way to explain to Mom why Daryl's choice in porn doesn't (inherently) make him gay. She can't be serious, this is all some sort of an elaborate, tasteless gag. "Alex, I know it's hard to accept, but I'm not letting you disown your brother." Holy fuck, she is serious. The following discussion is mortifying, and you're starting to wonder whether you should have even shown up to begin with.

In particular, Mom seems confused by the idea that men find different body types attractive. "But ladies are supposed to be, you know!" She holds her hands in front of her chest. "Like Meryl. Like me. All of the girls he likes look like men." Like Dr. Sheridan? "Exactly!" She realizes what she said and did a double-take to see if her friend was listening. "Uh, I mean..." You've never buried your face so deeply in your palms before, and Mom decides to drop the subject with a crimson face.

(1/2)

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(2/2)

Meryl returns, somewhat disheveled, to the sound of a churning shredder and your mother shamefully feeding in papers. Your fiancee looks at your mother and then at you, curious as to what's going on. "Do I need to know?" You shake your head. "That bad?" You nod. She leaves it be, and stands by your side, setting her clothing correctly.

"Nothing out of the ordinary," Dr. Sheridan returns after her 'patient'. "Everything seems to work and all of her characteristics are in order. I didn't even have to touch. Your wife is not suddenly going to turn into a giant, and as far as I can tell, your sons won't, either. It's quite likely all of your children will breed human." You decline to ask how she knows the intricacies of that, already sick to your stomach with awkward.

Meryl, for her part, seems relieved. "That's perfectly fine. Better than fine, really." She hugs you, and the internal knot untangles.

Dr. Sheridan looks at your mother in confusion, but Mom refuses to look at her. Eventually, your future employer gives up on it and refers to the two of you again. "There's no easy way to secretly prevent a secret persecution. If I'm going to protect you, I need to know where you're at at all times. I'm offering you well-paying jobs so that you have no reason to leave my observation until the danger passes. Yggdrasil is not a united front- It never was. It was essentially a fraternity among monster hunters. There's still some factions with some legitimacy, but ever since the old leader went batshit insane instead of just regular insane, I can't trust anyone I don't work with directly, and sometimes not even then."

She sticks a cigarette in her mouth, presumably to chew on. "The guy hunting you wants you dead because he's got a longstanding grudge against Dagonians. If you've never been in a hospital, that's why- he has an illegal protocol out to kill those who have the 'Innsmouth taint', which he finds through hospital records. Age or sex doesn't matter to him: In his mind, it's an existential threat." Sheridan lightly grinds the tobacco between her teeth, probably because she can't light it inside. "You get a job and safety. I get two employees I might be able to keep. Thoughts?"

"She didn't try anything funny," your wife confides, "At least not anything more funny than a regular gynecologist. If she wants to hurt us, I don't think she'd be out and out about it."

>You'll take the job, but you're expecting some funny business anyway. Nothing comes for free.
>No deal. Too good to be true usually is.
>You'll be able to think about it for the rest of the week, ask for more time.
AND
>Dr. Sheridan is staying over for dinner, you'll be able to speak with everyone then.
>You and Meryl are dealing with a lot of turmoil, one more night on the town can't hurt.
>Daryl wanted to catch up with you, you'll eat with him.
>[Write-In]

>>5508690
Same to you OP!

>>5508739
Hmm it sounds pretty good deal. The problem I think may be in reconciling it with the in-laws? Although it should be workable since nearly everyone involved seem to be on board with or at least not opposed to us having family with Meryl given circumstances.
Unless she’s lying and their monitoring will get more invasive later on.
>it sounds great but ask for some time to discuss with Meryl and mom anyway. We’re talking about rest of our lives commitment after all, and fate of our children.
Although now she’s aware of us given our family connections, what other choice is there? If we hope for a shot at reconciliation, this is probably as good as it gets.

Inviting the doctor to stay sounds good, as does catching up with Daryl. Maybe the former if we can hope for another chance with Daryl afterwards?

>>5508739
>>5508755
Support asking for more time. We'll almost certainly accept, but it can happen later
>Daryl wanted to catch up with you, you'll eat with him.
We gotta catch up with our bro, who may not be gay but who definitely suffers from terminally bad taste.

>>5508755
>>5508906

You need more time. It seems like a good situation, but that's not always a perfect indicator of outcome. Besides, you need to get the in-laws on board. Dr. Sheridan snorts. "If it's that you're worried about, don't. Like I said, I know him. He's a bit of a goblin, but he'll want what's best for Meryl. I would go so far as to say that he's your insurance on me."

"Oh, he's not that bad," Meryl declares, and then visibly considers her own statement. "Well, you might know better than I do. If nothing else, he wants to protect his genes."

"You think a guy like him gets named Darkman Black and doesn't try to live up to it?" Dr. Sheridan scoffs, and then points at your wife with two fingers. "I'd bet you any amount of money you care to mention he's the reason you haven't been attacked yet. It's possible you were detected ahead of time, but until now, the crank bastard wanting you dead could have delayed. Now that you're getting married, that's no longer an option." She chews the cigarette into unsuitability, and tosses it into the trash in a huff.

Your mother finishes up her shameful task and focuses on the more important, true issue here. "We'll provide whatever kind of support we can, but most of our network is, well... Mundane. Supernatural problems are rare."

"Sadly, not as rare as I'd like," the doctor grumbles. "But I'll gratefully accept your invitation for dinner. You make those rolls?" Before, she was speaking in a flat accent, but she slips into a Southern accent here. You can't place it, but it's definitely not from this side of the Mississippi.

While the two of them discuss the menu at home, you mention to Meryl that you wanted to catch up with your brother. Mind if I go with Daryl to one of his favorite haunts? You haven't seen him in a hot minute. She seems fine with that. "I actually wanted to talk to Alice, myself. The two of us didn't meet last Christmas, so making up for that first impression might be needed." Eh, Alice doesn't seem like the kind to learn, but maybe it'll end well. Worst case... Alice is expendable.

The haunt you mentioned before is an arcade-pizzeria. Daryl's palate is pretty broad- he tries to be cultured- but he falls back on classic Americana when he relaxes. Kind of a kiddy spot to visit, if you're being honest. It gets a pass by doing double-duty, given the whole point of the meal is walking down memory lane while catching up.

But talk of the Christmas season stirs up some old memories...

>[POV SWAP: Meryl]

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I'm standing by as Alex's mother begins to hyperventilate herself into a panic, waiting for her second-oldest to come back from after-dinner personal affairs.

"Calm down, Mom," Alex shakes his head, sitting up from where he's lying on the couch. "He's just playing hockey. He and his friends are usually out until nine, they love their game." That long? After a Christmas dinner? Are they crazy? Not that I have room to talk, really. My claws are itching, and I run my fingernails through one another while nobody's looking.

"But it's so cold!" she whines. "The roads will ice over." Urgh, her panic is making me nervous by proxy. Mrs. Woodsman is adorable and polite, but a little on the fat side and preoccupied with keeping everything in order at all times. Very nice, unless things go badly or not as planned- like right now. Although, if she tries to give me more Christmas cookies, I'm gonna puke. Grrr, I hate myself for taking advantage of her generosity, but also her for continuing to indulge me! I don't swim enough for endless sweets even during the summer, and winter's exactly when I'm wanting to fatten up and sleep in all days of the week. I gotta pick and choose my calories, or I'm gonna be feeling the hurt in the spring.

Mr. Woodsman brings his wife a mug of spiced wine. Aw, that's sweet of him. And now I want some. "Here, dear. I'll call him, so he knows to get back soon."

I sit down next to Alex. We've known each other for a bit, but not too long. He's cute enough, and smart, but I don't know if I've hammered out his personality yet. He thinks pretty well, but the guy's just a big old buff blob, as far as I can tell. He doesn't seem to have gigantic baggage or major ambitions. He's calm, at least for the most part. Lazy might be a better word, if he weren't able to keep up on homework. He shows up to places on time. He hasn't tried to get in my pants, at least, so he's either chaste or patient, which amounts to the same thing functionally. When he looks at me, I look away a bit. Don't know why, it's just... There's nothing to talk about. Gotta find something, I guess.

This place is pretty nice. Vases, paintings, good curtains. A fireplace in the den, and moreover, one that actually distributes heat without reeking of awful smoke! Sure beats Dad's hovel. I'm dreading cleaning those fish tanks when I get back. Fucking things never stay clean for any period, and Dad's always 'too busy' to do it himself. Getting a 'home away from home' is a Christmas miracle in of itself. The wind chill, the loneliness, the boredom, the salt spray. Not even the sea is friendly to me that time of year. Mom doesn't like staying in the house, but I wish she did. Just so we could at least pretend to be a family on Christmas. I don't even know if she cares about me at all. She's like an animal- she only looks after my physical needs. At least Dad pretends to be considerate.

(1/3)

(2/3)

How long did it take for me to realize that most people are like Mr. and Mrs. Woodsman, and not like my mom and dad? I think a few counselors tried to get me pulled from my household, but it somehow never went through. I didn't know I was being emotionally abused at the time, just that Dad was chilly sometimes and joking others, while Mom moved in and out of the house like it was a stranger's. Just the level of betrayal I felt when I realized something as simple as the fact that other parents packed favorite lunches, or bought snacks, but there wasn't anything like that for me. Or that other people's mothers didn't come and go as they pleased. I guess it's good that Mom and Dad were at least on good terms. But it just makes me so mad that I can't stop thinking about it. This man showed more care in three months than Mom did in my entire life. Dad says she just can't, but that doesn't help me!

I feel my hand being touched and almost jump. Gah! Oh, it's just Alex. He's smiling at me, with that big dopey smile of his. Not a care in the world, that one. I try to smile back, but it's just not coming out the way I like, so I let it go and focus on holding his hand. I'm pretty big, and most men either tend to be intimidated by me or have a fetish for women my size. Thankfully, this dumb lug is neither of those, being big too. "You seem busy. Am I interrupting something?" I want to say yes, but bite my stupid tongue. Nope. Just thinking about snow. He shrugs. "Sorry. Precipitation's not right for it." Wow. So unromantic. But that sort of thing gets me better grades and a smile, so I'll forgive it. There's something inexplicably charming about the way he talks. He's to the point. It's comforting, because there's no lie there. He doesn't talk enough to lie.

With that, I lean into him and scoot up to sit directly beside Alex, so my head can rest on his shoulder. Alex's eyes shift elsewhere, cautiously, and then back to me. Apparently he's scared of his mom throwing a fit. Let her. What's she gonna do, kill me with cookies? Mm, this is warm. Having a boyfriend comes with perks. Closing my eyes, I try and relax, to drift off. Perfect season and time of night for it. I try to think of how this scene looks like from above, or in a photo op. I try to think of that smile. I try to forget my gills.

Sugar plum fairies and gumdrop dreams are dashed by the sound of a door being harshly opened, and the exhausted pant of an overtaxed athlete in a hurry. Well, it seems as though his brother is back. My eyes open in ruined-nap frustration, and I await some kind of compensation for this breach of the season's goodwill. Obviously, it doesn't come from Daryl, but Alex does give me an apologetic smile. No snow and no romantic falling asleep at the fire? The presents had better be fantastic.

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(3/3)

"Where on Earth have you been?" Mrs. Woodsman berates her younger son, who grimaces and waves dismissively. "Don't give me that! You've been keeping everyone up waiting for you!" Ooh, this is a professional guilt trip. Nice.

"I've been playing hockey, obviously!" he grumbles. "It's the one time of year they have open-air rinks." This guy tries to sound tough by playing hockey, but apparently Daryl's actually a figure skater, too. Guy does way too much, and it's kinda funny when he tries to pass himself off as a macho man like Alex. Come on, dude. Overcompensating much? Stick with your sophisticated scion schtick and maybe you'll pull women.

Mrs. Woodsman grabs her son's sweater and sniffs it, causing Daryl to flash crimson and Alex to guffaw. "Well, at least you're showered and changed," the 'mother hen' nods, and then gestures to the couch. "We're going to take a family photo. Meryl, you can opt in or out as you like." Huh? Oh, uh...

>Opt in.
>Opt out.

It's not a hard decision, really. In such a short time, they've made their house more of a home than my own home is for me. That sounds selfish when I think about it, and doubly so given they don't know the slightest thing about my condition. God, what am I going to tell Alex? His brain will probably combust. A lump builds in my throat, and I have to think about it a bit longer. Mrs. Woodsman spoke to me... really enthusiastically. Like she really wanted me to stay. Can I really decide between breaking his heart and ruining the lives of his whole family?

I move to sit on the outside of the photo, so that I'm sitting beside Alex alone. His mother is rigging the camera for a timed photo. I can't ask him to carry my burdens. But I have nowhere else to hide. I've hidden in plain sight long enough, I can go a little longer. Maybe, if I don't think he can handle it, I just won't tell him. I'm human, after all. I have to keep telling myself that. The camera ticks down, and even as he holds my hand, the smile on my face feels more and more forced. I am a human. The camera flashes, and dread crawls down my spine. What does the photo show? Sea-green eyes? My claws, digging into his hand? Maybe the horrible, disfiguring welts I see in my imagination? Once Mrs. Woodsman shows the photos, I see nothing but a human being. It's a silent relief. The illusion holds a little longer.

Alex soon feels the desire to go to bed, but before he goes, he turns to me. "Sorry, Mom's a little overenthusiastic." I ask him to clarify. "She thinks you're already part of the family, while you might not." He's an open book, though he might not think so: He clearly agrees with his mother, even if he wouldn't believe it himself.

Does he really... This is the worst, but I play it off as a joke. "Well, we'll see about that." Will we?

My boyfriend's conflicted nod is the worst kind of confirmation. I'm human. I'm human.

(That'll be curtain call for this thread, next thread will probably be out next week. Very harried schedule, hope the holiday season was better for you all.)

Once again, thanks for everyone's patience: This is archived!
https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2022/5471260/

>>5510600
Thanks for the thread Seba, was marvelous and the mermaid a cute.