#polar!michael

[letsmcfreackingloseit]

And for the holidays I give you memes! Memes everywhere!

I hope that all of you are having a wonderful time, but if not, I at least hope these silly doodles brought you a little joy!

I'm going to keep this short and sweet today, so to round this of: These doodles are based off of the fanfic Apex Polarity, which is written by the lovely @naffeclipse and Eclipse' design is based off of @themeeplord 's fantastic design!

And as a bonus, you will find an alteration and a bunch of Yeti slogans/puns under the cut:

and if you're wondering why I made so many gd yeti puns, it was for michael's mug. You gotta have some fitting and funny slogan for all mugs. Btw If any of you know some good yeti slogans and/or puns, please call me, I've been struggling.

Michael; local cryptid believer, but not cryptid enjoyer

Vanessa; POLAR BEARS

Eclipse; I'm having the best time of my life! :D

Y/n; I'm having A TIME :')

[bleeding-seraphic]

I like to imagine that at the time of his merging with the Distortion he was Michael Shelley, Ph.D

[naffeclipse]

Packmates

Reader x Orca!Eclipse

Commission Info

This is such a delightful little fic requested by @counterbalance involving Orca!Eclipse having a little heart-to-heart with Michael and Vanessa with, of course, Y/N overseeing it! It's very cathartic and sweet to see all of these characters talk to each other after everything that has happened. I hope you enjoy!

———

Spring in the Arctic is frigid. No flowers bloom along the frozen land. Sea smoke sends pale wisps into the rosy pink dawn light. Jutting mounts of hills and ice jag the landscape as you slip closer and closer to the edge of the snow-dotted ocean. 

You tuck your scarlet wool scarf tighter around your throat. Goggles and a hood protect your face and eyes from the wicked air so cold, it brandishes itself like a knife against exposed skin. 

The darkness of a blistering cold night in the polar region lifts away, and the sweet, soft light of a new, short day begins. Slowly, the days will get longer and longer, until there is only the hint of dusk before it brightens all over again. You marvel at the sunlight on the glittering frozen ground. The way it refracts upon the tips of waves as the ocean churns slowly in its below-zero temperature state. 

All of this is no matter to an orca siren. Eclipse has never been cold. Only alone.

That will change.

You trek across the plain with company. It’s taken you a few days to prepare Eclipse to meet your packmates as he refers to them properly. He’s not wrong. Michael and Vanessa form your little tightly knit group, forged by comradery from first being stuck in such a stark landscape in a tiny base, to then enduring the mysterious uncertainty of sirens and the lingering presence of those who hunted them. 

They tried to protect you and you protected them. On your left, Michael’s head is on a swivel. He strains his neck as he peers down into the deep and dark indigo waters as if he might spy Eclipse before he’s ready to emerge. His gloved hands clench, held in front of him as if a harpoon might materialize and drop into his waiting palms. The fur of his dark gray parka is red, pushed by the slight breeze as if he were an Arctic fox roaming, briskly attempting to keep away from a much larger threat.

Vanessa walks so close to you on your other side that her shoulder repeatedly brushes against your own with the thick scratch of durable fabric from your Arctic gear echoing. Her face repeatedly turns to you. A black aviator hat protects her head from the fierce cold, the white fur along the flops of her head attire serving to keep her safe and warm. She anxiously moves her arms. You wonder if she intends to hug you or drag you back to base—either way, she seems to want to grab onto you tightly, as if you might fall through the thick ice now. 

They have their reasons to fear, but it’s alright now. Eclipse isn’t going to hurt anyone.

Seeing is believing, it seems, as you lead them towards the icy coast. The water reveals a deeper teal hue to its soft waves and lapping against the edge of the sea as the sun glares across the horizon. You squint against the brightness. Holding up a hand to help shield your gaze, you search the salty edge of the ocean.

Eclipse said he would meet them. He said he wants to know your packmates better.

“Stay here,” you say softly.

Michael’s shoulders become rigid. His eyes, verdant and almost wild, like a creature about to snap with its fangs, follow you in anticipation.

“Are you sure?” he asks. 

You turn back, smiling despite how well your Arctic gear covers you up. 

“I am. It’s okay, Michael.” In a firmer tone, you remind, “You said you would give him a chance.”

Inhaling deeply, he dips his chin once. “I did. But he’s still a siren.”

“And you’re a human who had a harpoon.” You face him, no longer shrinking in his presence. There are no more secrets, no more reasons to protect each other from the truth. You love Eclipse. That should be enough for Michael but it’s going to take a little more time.

But he’ll see.

“We don’t have them now,” Vanessa says. She crosses her arms in what might have been a pout but her gloved hands grip herself anxiously. “It—He can still sing.”

“He won’t. He promised me he wouldn’t.” You have to ask much of them, and winter isn’t enough time for change, but it’ll have to do. “Trust me.”

They can now. Michael and Vanessa glance at each other, reassuring and perhaps, reinspired by the other. 

You nod gratefully and turn back to the water. You kneel at its edge, searching for a tell-tale sign of a sharp dorsal fin or burning red flukes. He shouldn’t be bold—at least more than is excessive for him. You took great care to explain to him how wary Michael and Vanessa might be and that he needs to be on his best behavior. He promised but the way he held you close in an embrace left a grain of doubt in your mind.

In the distant dark teal of the Arctic Ocean, you spy the beautiful, red-tipped dorsal fin of an orca siren. Eclipse. He swims slowly, approaching in the way a shark might curiously regard fresh bait while it’s not currently hungry. You wait. In the corner of your vision, Michael and Vanessa tense. You remain, hands on your legs, inhaling the frost-bitten scent of the wind before the dorsal fin dips below.

Right before you, where ice meets water, Eclipse emerges dripping wet, maw wide open in a grin. His eyes burn through the chilled landscape. One yellow and one red eye greet you with a radiant wonder. His expression softens. Your heart warms as he reaches for you, black-tipped claws dripping wet.

“Happy day, birdie,” he singsongs in a low rumble of harmonics. 

His hands brush your gloved palms, and you hear a strange rush of steps behind you. Eclipse’s eyes narrow. He latches onto your wrists just as arms encircle you from behind, one over your shoulder, and another around your waist, and a breathless sound of panic touches the back of your hood. You look down to find the off-white garb of Vanessa’s Arctic gear clinging to you, her gloves twisting deeply into your coat.

“Vanessa,” Michael says, his tone unreadable. He steps closer just as Eclipse growls.

“It’s okay,” you pipe up over everyone. “We’re fine, everyone’s fine.”

Tensions soar as you slowly turn your head back to find Vanessa wide-eyed and breathless. Her gaze is locked onto Eclipse. A rumble on the threat of a snarl vibrates through Eclipse’s chest. Vanessa holds you tighter.

“Eclipse, will you let go of me?” You level him with a pointed stare. “I want to introduce you to my packmates.”

Eclipse’s teeth flash. His array of head frills, flaring in dark oranges and deep reds, cut through the blues and whites of the Arctic in his agitation. 

“Eclipse,” you say softly, “Let me go. Just for a moment.”

His gaze drops back to you. You are firm, and unyielding as he lowers his shoulders. A softness returns to his feature. Though he appears pained to release your wrists, his claws slip away. 

Vanessa’s death grip upon you loosens in the slightest.

“Vanessa, this is Eclipse.” You pat her arms once. “He’s not taking me anyway. You can stop grabbing me now.”

She drags in a ragged breath. She slowly blinks, her green eyes returning to a more sensible state as she at last withdraws her arms from around you. You pat her arm again. Yet, she sits close beside you, trembling with anticipation. 

Gently, you gesture towards her, “Eclipse, this is my packmate, Vanessa.”

He tilts his head. Hiding his teeth, he smiles. “Hello.”

A stare follows from Vanessa, caught somewhere before wariness and the strangeness of an orca siren speaking to her. Was she expecting a monstrous grable to leave his lips or perhaps a wicked song? 

“Hi.” she finally decides. She glances at you in confusion for a moment. 

Oh, right. Packmate. You’ll explain that later.

“Eclipse,” you then hold your hand out beyond Vanessa to Michael. He still stands on his feet, unwilling or unable to join you guys on the ice that the orca siren leans his arms against. “This is Michael.”

Eclipse’s eyes sharpen as if the tip of an icicle. He lifts his hand. Michael tenses, his fists balling into fists.

“You are the child of the human who took away my pod, my family,” his deep voice is abysmal with the accusations. “I thought you would be worse.”

Michael turns hard as stone. Tension laces his jaw as he clenches tightly. Your heart skips a beat, glancing sharply between the two.

Eclipse snarls. “Your father killed my mother.”

“Sirens are dangerous,” Michael retorts, his shoulders braced for an impact that you refuse to see.

“Eclipse, you said you would be good to my pack,” you say sharply. You reach out and touch the back of Eclipse’s slick, sheeny hand.

He pauses, his eyes flashing to you. His claws quickly curl around your wrist. 

“I am,” he says, but he lowers his voice. 

Vanessa tenses, her hand reaching to hook around the crook of your arm. Desperation fills you to the brim.

“Please, there’s been enough fighting and hatred.” You look between all three of them. “You all have suffered, haven’t you?”

You steely hold Michael’s gaze. His expression morphs between molten rage and seething hatred before melting into something less bitter. You turn on Eclipse. His expression is sharp, edged with rime and fangs. You squeeze his hand. He glances down at your small gloved fingers in his palm. Slowly, he breathes out a huff of misty air. When you turn to Vanessa, her head is already bowed. Her grip upon your arm is no longer a means to keep you close, but to anchor herself.

“My sister,” Michael says, then stops. He struggles for a moment before looking at Eclipse—truly looking at Eclipse for the first time. “My sister is gone because of my father.”

The beginnings of a snarl pulling over his teeth stop. Eclipse’s grip around your hand becomes gentle. A low sound of sympathy escapes him in a warble.

“Afton let my mother be taken by a siren.” Vanessa’s voice is so small, you almost don’t catch it. “He sacrificed her for the sake of his studies.”

Her fingers dig into your coat. You wish you had another hand so you might comfort her. 

Eclipse looks at your other packmate, much more gentle as he leans closer as if to console her. Then, for a moment, he’s pierced with a strange expression. He leans away. His hand slips out of yours as he clenches his hands. His claws rake over the ice.

“Did the siren take your mother as a mate?”

Vanessa’s head lifts. Her mouth contorts as if her very muscles are paralyzed before she says gravelly, “I think so.”

Eclipse’s gaze falls over you. A memory of a time of being stolen away, held underwater, and forced to swim leaves you with a chill. Eclipse, however, slowly inches his hand back to you, open and waiting, and you accept it again. His shiny black and white markings are still sea salt-slick. He whistles a soft sound.

“It is wicked to force your will upon another,” his voice is low, repentant. 

Michael and Vanessa share equal expressions of scrutiny and wonder. Perhaps you merely imagine the first shine of acceptance in their eyes, but it’s a start.

Visibly, they relax. Vanessa still holds to your elbow but her fingers are no longer hooking around you in the hope of keeping you from being reeled out. Gradually, Michael lowers himself onto one knee. He rests his arm on his leg and loses the tautness in his body. 

You hold tight to Eclipse’s fingers. You wish you could close the distance. It’s been a few days since you’ve returned to the Arctic and spent time with Eclipse, but you still yearn for more of him. It was a long and cold winter without your siren. 

Perhaps humans and sirens don’t have to stay enemies. Perhaps the past can die with the generation who couldn’t stop fighting. Maybe you all can be better, and happier.

“Eclipse, will you tell Vanessa what you told me before?” you nudge. You think it will sound better coming from a siren than from you. 

Straightening, Vanessa glances quizzically at you, then Eclipse as a few water droplets fall from his frills.

“Your mother may be alive.” He turns towards the sea without releasing your hand. “She may be out there. I can help find her if that is something you wish.”

A ripple of shock crosses your friend’s expression. Of course, you and Michael promised to help search for her mother now that she understood what may have become of her. This is one of your motivations for returning to the Arctic. Vanessa is almost speechless. You have never seen her emotional before, but you wonder if she may weep. Is she happy or angry that a siren would offer such a thing to her? Knowing what happened to her mother?

“You know where she is?” she asks.

“No,” Eclipse corrects promptly, “but I can aid in your search. I know these waters. I have swam them all my life. If she is here, I can locate her.”

She glances at you, her eyes shining. You smile reassuringly. Slowly, she turns to Michael. His expression is firm and difficult to read, but he gives a slight nod. 

This might not end up how you wish it would, but it’s something. It’s hope—a possible answer after never having her mother all of her life. You wonder what kind of tail her mother could possess, and shiver as you glance down to your legs covered in thick Arctic gear.

“I—Yes,” Vanessa says at last. She faces Eclipse. “I would owe you everything if you helped me find her.”

A wide grin splits the crescent marking of his face. Just below the water and beyond the edge of ice you sit upon, his tail snaps to one side.

“No need. I want nothing more than what I have.” He squeezes your hands. His claws carefully brush over the fabric of your gloves as your heart swells with pride. 

You face him. Gently tugging yourself free of Vanessa’s grip, her hold loosens and she lets you go, her hand hanging in the air while you close the distance between you and Eclipse. His arms open gladly. You enter his embrace. A spark of shyness flies through you, never having an audience before to witness the affection between you and the orca siren.

Eclipse makes you forget all else as he hums soothingly. He nuzzles softly along your hood, pushing your goggles up to touch the heat of your skin. You close your eyes. He squanders not the opportunity to press a slick kiss to one eyelid, then the other. You breathe softly.

“Thank you,” you whisper to him.

“I thought you would know there is no need to thank me,” he rumbles with mirth, “but I still enjoy it.”

You pull back and touch his cheek. He leans into it before you remember who is present. You turn back to Michael and Vanessa and bashfully ask where they should start looking first.

[the-grollican]

to be honest i think its kind of fucked how a lot of accounts/tellings of the terra nova polar party talk about taff evans. like his decline and death were some indicator of a secret weakness of character and not, like, just bad luck. interesting also that when taff evans hides his injury (cut up hand) from scott so he isnt kept off the polar party its a bad dumb decision but when oates hides his leg injury from scott so hes on the polar party its bc hes so noble and strong et cetera. not saying he isnt but its interesting how the two choices are framed. im not saying its classism but i am saying that

[wantsusdead]

Captain Francis Crozier Life Events (SOURCE: Icebound in the Arctic by Michael Smith)

[polarity-disturbed]

I was trying to make a Good Place meme to send to a friend, but I messed up something in the export settings………

But honestly? This is funnier.

[freddy-owo]

(/p) BOYF RIENDS AS FURRIES!!1!1!1!1!!1!1!1!!

=D

[sunlaire]

Crean, as second officer, was introduced to the glittering array of guests, who included princess Victoria and The Dowager Empress Marie Feodoronva of Russia, and the formidable Lord "Jackie" Fisher, Admiral of the Fleet. One of the party's doctors, Alexander Macklin, would later recall a humorous moment when the tall, burly Irishman was being introduced to the refined, well-heeled dignitaries. Macklin remembered a lady in Queen Alexandra's entourage: '...laying a small delicate finger on Crean's massive chest opposite [a] white ribbon, asked "And what might that be for?" Tom replied, "That is the Polar Medal." "O," said the lady, "I thought it was for innocence."

!!!!!!!!!!!!

[vintage-tigre]

Artist Michael Kirkham activates a discourse on light that differs radically from the one that has been dominant during the past centuries. This discourse only remains, in the western tradition, in myths; it seemed definitively overcome with modernity.

Only in incidental artistic practices like that of solarization and with surrealist artists such as Man Ray, has this mythical discourse known some revivals. I am alluding to the animating effect of light. There, light does not have the function of making visible, of revealing, but it is life-creating. Itis not an epistemological instrument, but an ontological reality.

Light makes life; light is life.

[lesbian-munkustrap]

I am seeing Michael Gruber tomorrow!

[crustaceousfaggot]

Happily accepting other recommendations as well :D I need more cold boys

[letsmcfreackingloseit]

Hey-ho! I'm back again with some Apex Polarity art, but this time it's some designs for the humans' snow gear!

It started out with me just trying to figure out a design for y/n in my little comic, but then I thought it would be fun to also try and visualize the other humans, so here's my take of y/n, Vanessa and Michael! I really like how they turned out, although I don't think I got Vanessa's "patchwork" look quite right, but I still like where I landed. I added a blue scarf and I was really tempted to give her those red goggles, since it would've made her resemble Vanny even more, but in the end I desided against it.

So yeah- nothing too big this time, just something fun and easy!

But to round this off, I will of course credit the wonderful author @naffeclipse who is writing Apex Polarity, which you can go read if you click right here (can 100% recommend, especially if you like stories with a bunch of fluff, mystery and drama~!) and today I give credit to myself for the designs of the humans! ;P

[beastsovrevelation]

An endless list of favorite ships: Archangel Michael x Lucifer (Good Omens)

[naffeclipse]

I remember in Apex Polarity that y/n mentioned they might have been more open to the idea of being a siren if Eclipse went about it a different way. Would there be a possibility of them agreeing to it in the future now that things are more open or is it still a hard no? Your stories are amazing and I keep coming back to them.

Yes. It would take a very long time and a lot of trust-building for them to agree to it again as the first time was very traumatic for them, and, of course, they fear Eclipse refusing to change them back again, but if Eclipse is patient and proves himself worthy, they'd do it again.

They'd like to take underwater pictures. What better way than as a siren, guided by one who has lived in the Arctic his whole life?

Thank you, babe! <3

[crancisfrozier]

Saw the Franklin memorial at Westminster Abbey today!! I had no idea there was also a memorial to McClintock and John Rae beneath it?

[bearsinpotatosacks]

Here, have a snippet of the first time Richie dines with the Berzattos, I wrote in my "I need to know more about Richie's family and his relationship with Mickey" brainrot.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It’s only when he placed down his cutlery that he realised he’d finished first. A combination of no breakfast or lunch had built up into the ball of ravenous hunger that had been slowly eating his insides in a familiar way all afternoon until they got to the dinner table. The low clattering and scrapes of forks on plates stopped as he looked up to see Donna Berzatto, the mother bear herself, staring right at him. 

The familiar drop of his stomach. Her bold stare, the eye contact. He was a guest in their home, how dare he eat like such a pig. He’d be banned from Mickey’s life, banned from the house and exiled from Chicago, socially speaking anyway. Fear bubbled up, popping in worries of ‘It’ll be like before we settled all over again’ and the claustrophobic silences of home stretched out into forever until he died with a gun in his hand because no one taught him to speak up for himself and tell his dad he didn’t want to serve. 

“Richie,” she said, her words all warm and passion. “Would you like seconds?”

The blood pulsing in his ears quietned. Never in his life had he had seconds. He ate what was on his plate and that was it, it was the first thing taken away if he was bad. He’d gotten used to burning his report cards, he’d learnt which days he should race home to stop letters to his parents, or what days he should unplug the phone but hide the cord so no one would suspect a thing. 

“Yes please, mam, if I’m allowed”

“If I’m allowed?” Donna laughed, her glass of wine threatening to spill over the crisp white tablecloth. “We’re italian, honey, it’s how we show our love.”

Love. He’d only been over a few times, and she’d already said love. He’d never heard his parents say they loved each other, barely heard his mother say it, especially when his dad was home. 

She reached over for his plate, piling more pasta, he didn’t know the difference between all the types, onto his place, and more of that bread she’d screamed the house down that no one was helping her knead, and how she’d been proving it for hours without anyone caring to ask how she was. As she placed his plate back in front of him, his stomach gurgled loud enough that Mickey glanced over at him, his eyebrow raised and that spark of concern in his eyes again. 

“And don’t call me, Mam, makes me feel ancient, Donna’s fine, honey.”

“Thank you, ma-Donna.” He replied with a wavering smile. 

She ruffled his hair, her breath smelling of wine, and lay a kiss on his temple before taking her seat at the head of the table again. 

Richie could never go home after this. He wondered if he’d be allowed to stay in Mickey’s room, he didn’t mind sleeping on the floor, or in the basement. Anything was better than being suffocated at home. He wanted to stay forever in the warm arms of second portions, screaming in the kitchen, wine on the breath and love for as long as he could. 

He could never go home again.