#im not actually that familiar with selkies

[horizonandstar]

Ooo if you like selkies you should check out bones of a rabbit! They’ve posted some art for their selkie au :0 Sun and moon are pirates in that one so that’s pretty cool. There’s also starswimmingart who just posted the first chapter of their selkie story!!

oh i know about starswimmingarts selkie au! im planning to read it tonight or tomorrow, after i finish permission slip and dayshift go figure

didnt actually know bones of a rabbit had a selkie au actually! im gonna go check that out real quick

[boytoyhalo]

Your Selkie au is super compelling! Plus you are a very good writer. A question, will you ever go into more detail about Pac's previous captive situation? I'm very interested in how you will adapt Fuga's lore into your au. ( Specially bc of Cell and Cellbit stuff)

I'M SO SO SO LATE BUT IM USING FITPAC WEEK DAY 3 (WHICH IM ALSO LATE FOR) AS AN EXCUSE TO FINALLY, FINALLYYYYY GET THIS POSTED THANK YOU FOR BEING PATIENT ANON AND EVERYONE ELSE WHO'S AN ENJOYER OF THIS AU I PROMISE IT ISN'T ABANDONED IVE JUST BEEN IN AN END OF YEAR SLUMP

selkie au snippet #4 (i think) || T || slash (ambiguous) || @fitpacweek day 3 (belated its actually day 4) AU day!!!

read the rest of my posts about this au here

"Can I ask you somethin' personal?"

Pac paused, hand suspended halfway towards the checkerboard that was currently serving as him and Fit's way of passing the long hours up in the lamp room of the lighthouse. He kept his eyes on the round piece he was holding as he deliberated on how to answer, sure that if he met Fit's gaze his face would give away his nervousness; "personal" could mean a wide range of topics, most of which would spell disaster for Pac and his poorly constructed web of secrets. He slowly placed the piece in it's spot on the board, fighting to keep his voice even as he responded.

"Mmm, you can ask, yeah. I might not answer, but you can ask." Fit hummed bemusedly, absently flipping his own game piece between his fingers and he contemplated his next move.

"What happened to your leg?" Pac's breath caught in his throat, and Fit rushed to continue, "It's ok if you don't wanna talk about it, I get it. I just- I mean, you've probably figured out how I lost my arm, right?" Pac looked up at the familiar, mechanical clacking of the veteran's stiff wooden fingers flexing in and out of their open position, eyes involuntarily darting to the gnarled pink scarring that crawled from under his collar and up to the side of his head. He quickly returned his gaze to the board, face reddening a little in shame. Thankfully though, Fit seemed far from offended. "Heh, it's okay, I know. It's pretty obvious. And besides, you're a smart man. I'd be surprised if you hadn't assumed correctly. Me though - I'm just brawn, I don't have a whole lotta brainpower up in this thing." He knocked his fake knuckles lightly against his temple, a light smile on his face. "So if you are okay with me knowing, you're gonna need to tell me."

A small, nervous laugh bubbled it's way out of Pac's chest, his face properly flushed now in a mix of embarassment and flattery. "Don't - don't say that about yourself Fit, you're smart! Smarter than me, probably-" He cleared his throat, redirecting his focus to the topic at hand (ha.) "I can tell you, I don't mind. It's just a, it's a tough topic, you know? I need to get my head in the right place." Fit nodded easily like he understood, which Pac supposed he did at least somewhat.

"Take your time, I'm not going anywhere." The selkie chuckled a bit, tracing the edges of the paneled glass walls that surrounded them as he considered the best way to talk around the subject; he knew, or at least had decided, that he owed it to Fit to give him some semblance of the truth. After all, they had been growing steadily closed for months now and yet Fit knew so little about his life. Which was out of necessity, or course, but his friend had been so kind and so patient with him, never demanding more information than he was given. Pac needed - no, he WANTED to let him in as much as he reasonably could. He deserved it.

"I..." He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, steeling himself to sort through the painful, tangled memories and hoping he would be able to hold himself together. He starts at the beginning, where he won't have to omit too much of the truth, though if anything that makes it harder to talk about. "Mike and I were on a merchant ship off the coast of São Paulo that was attacked by axis submarines a few years back." Fit winced sympathetically, patiently waiting for him to continue as he picked his next words. "We avoided the worst of the blast, but... Mike was in really bad condition, and I had to hang onto him with one arm and a piece of the wreck with the other while I waited for help to come. By the time someone found us, I was too tired and too um- too relieved to realize that we were being taken as prisoners and not as refugees."

It was all technically true so far, just with some important details omitted: like how they were only on the ship in the first place because their pelts were being imported as merchandise by a fisherman who believed himself to be incredibly lucky, and how they weren't taken as prisoners of war as Fit was no doubt assuming. Pac fails to suppress a shudder as he remembers the smug, taunting grin of the man that stood above him on the deck of his supposed refuge, two familiar seal pelts clutched in his meaty fists.

"I'm so sorry you went through that, Pac. You don't have to keep-" Pac cuts him off, already committed to opening up.

"No, I want to tell you. We," He clears his throat again, pushing down the memories of too-small tanks full of too-salty water, of needles and IV drips and white lab coats and pencils scratching on clipboards as he writhed in pain. "We woke up in some sort of facility, I'm not sure where exactly? I think the men who had us were European but that's all I remember, it's all blurry you know? And that's where we met Cellbit and Felps actually-" The image of frenzied black eyes claws its way to the front of his mind against his will, but he can't help a small smile at Fit's attentiveness as his eyebrows raise in intrigue, the checkerboard between them completely forgotten.

"Anyway, we were there for- months, I think. And long story short Cellbit ended up, um. He tried to- to eat my leg off?" It comes out sounding uncertain, Pac having realized there was no way to say it that wouldn't raise more questions. Sure enough, Fit's mouth drops open.

"Wait he- He tried to eat you?"

"Not- it wasn't- aaaaugh, he wasn't himself ok? They were- they were cruel to us, and they injected him with these drugs that made him all crazy and violent and they kinda just. Let him do it? It wasn't his fault, is what I'm saying." Fit looks disturbed, although significantly less so than Pac would expect from most people. He supposes bearing witness to the horrors of war would give you a higher tolerance to this sort of thing.

The thing is, it really wasn't Cellbit's fault. He had been there the longest of any of them, starved and beaten and forced through their cruel experiments since he had been a teenager. He was angry and desperate and hungry, and it was pure bad luck that Pac had happened to be the closest to him when the "researchers" had decided to test the effects of whatever combination of steroids they had injected him with. The ghost of his leg twinges in pain as it remembers the feeling of sharp teeth tearing through it's flesh.

"Wait so did Cellbit..." Fit hesitates, like he can't quite put together what he means to ask. "So he, bit your leg off? but how does that even-" He's interrupted by Pac giggling, and after a moment he joins in quietly with a confused laugh of his own.

"No, no he- he just did enough damage that the sci- that the jailers had to amputate it. And it wasn't that bad honestly, I mean, they weren't kind enough to knock me out before they started sawing but at least I didn't die!" His amusement at Fit's horrified reaction to his nonchalance almost drowns out the echoes of grief that his heart sounds for one of his fellow prisoners who hadn't been so lucky. Pac puts on a wide grin, forcing himself to perk up from his slumped posture. "So anyway, that's the story! Pretty cool don't you think?" Fit sputters a shocked laugh.

"Pretty- Yeah, sure, Pac. That's- *cough*- that's cool, yeah." It's a joke, obviously, but warmth washes over him anyway at the way that Fit lets him control the weight of the conversation like always. He wouldn't be able to handle trying to talk about his past seriously, and he's grateful to whatever higher power may or may not exist for bringing him Fit, who not only cares but understands despite being a human, and who always without fail meets him wherever he needs to be at. Pac doesn't know what he did to deserve a friend like him. "So, okay," Fit's voice snaps him out of the appreciative haze he had fallen into. "How did you guys get out? Were you released, or rescued, or..." He trails off, eyes imploring him to go on. Pac feels his face light up at the opportunity to discuss his favorite part of the tale - the only part, he likes, really.

"Oh, you're not gonna believe it. It was Richas! He actually saved us!"

"What?" Fit exclaims in elated disbelief.

"Yeah! So ok - they were keeping him prisoner too, but he was just a baby, like a, a toddler right? And the guards that were assigned to him treated him like their own kid-" Minus the horrible inhumane experimentation, of course. "- and he somehow, he figured out how to use their sympathy to get them to tell him where they kept all their keys," - and all the pelts - "and then managed to convince them to let him play with us alone. So he came to me and Mike and told us, so we told him to steal us some guard uniforms and figure out where the breaker box was, and after some planning and waiting for the right time we were able to escape by having him shut off the power and filing out with the rest of the guards! Mike wanted it to just be the three of us but I told him we weren't leaving the others behind." For all the suffering they had been put through it had honestly been comically easy - the facility they were at was small and not well guarded, probably funded independently considering that if any powerful government had proof of the selkies' existence everyone including the scientists would have been in a much bigger mess - the world was already at war, Pac doubted anyone was eager to add another variable to the conflict.

Fit crosses his arms and sits back, nodding in amazement. "Huh, so little Richarlyson is a hero! That's crazy"

"What, you don't believe me?" Pac shouts in mock offense.

"No no no I believe you! That kid is a fighter, I know it. So you guys all just stuck together after that? What about Bagi and Forever?"

"Ah, so- Bagi and Cellbit, they're brothers, or uhm- they're brother and sister, yes? And Bagi had been searching for Cellbit since he was taken, and somehow she ended up at the place we were being kept just a few days after we escaped, and she was able to track us from there. She's crazy smart, Cellbit and her both are. And Forever," Well, truthfully, Forever had just swam up to their pod and started playing with Richas one day while they were searching for a new home, and then the two had become inseparable so he just... stuck around. But Pac wasn't sure how to spin that into something that sounded reasonable for a human family, so he just went with "Forever just showed up one day and wouldn't leave." Fit laughed again at that, and this time Pac laughed with him.

It felt unbelievably good to tell Fit about his story like this, even with parts of it changed. Still, he wanted nothing more than to tell him the truth of what he was - he almost did, right then and there, swayed by the sound if his laughter and the mirth in his eyes. But, he reminded himself, that had to be a family decision; it wasn't just his secrets at stake. It was all of them, and as much as he loved trusted Fit and would be happy to gamble his own safety on that trust, he wasn't willing to risk his whole family.

...But, it would be so much easier if he could just say the whole truth. He wonders if Fit would react with the same attentiveness and amazement he gave to Pac's storytelling.

The rest of the day passed with little more of note, mostly filled with idle chit chat and card games. As Fit tries to teach him how to play Kings on the Corners for the third time, Pac finds himself thinking about how much Fit was changing his life without even realizing. A few months ago, Pac had never wanted or even tolerated human company that wasn't absolutely necessary. But now, he couldn't imagine not having the veteran around to occupy his time. In fact, when Fit had taken his first two-week relief back on shore after two months of service, Pac had felt inescapably lonely even when surrounded by his pod. Not even Richas, who had also been upset over the Ramon's absence, had been able to completely cheer him up. And while Pac's always been somewhat fascinated by humans, and had enjoyed watching the previous lighthouse keepers as they went about their work, he had never found himself as interested by any of it as he does when it comes to Fit.

"What is it?" Fit's voice snaps him out of it yet again, cards abandoned as he looks at him curiously. "You're staring."

"Huh? Oh, nothing, nothing! Just thinking about Richas and Ramon - what do you think they're up to?"

"They should still be hanging out with Cellbit, right? They're probably doing puzzles or something." Fit looks at the clock over on the left side off the room. "It's almost six, Bad should be here soon to take over for the night. Do you want to go join them and I can catch up?"

"Um-" Pac flusters, face heating up slightly. He's not sure why the emotional exhaustion of talking about losing his leg is what's bringing all these revelations to his mind, but he can't seem to pull his thoughts away from how much he appreciates the man in front of him. Which.... "Yeah, I think I'll go find them now! I'll see you soon?" Fit nods.

"Sounds good, Pac. I'll see you in a little bit." With a nod back at him, Pac shuffles out the door and makes his way down the tower. Instead of going to find Cellbit and the children, however, he beelines straight to the rocks where his pelt is stashed and hastily wraps himself in it's familiar comfort, sliding into the water before his limbs have even finished morphing into flippers. Surely a nice, solo swim is what he needs to clear his head.

...If only he could take Fit with him.

[jinx-on-mars-19xx]

The Forest Meets the Sea

⚔️ All Previous Parts Here ⚔️

Dom x Colson (Yungblud x Machine Gun Kelly)

Warnings: future ABO, slick, needy boys, viking Col, fae Dom, slow burn, mentioned masterbation, mentioned cumming untouched, teasing boys, longing stares, unhelpful cryptic Mod, unexplained heats, innocent Dom ☠️ Rating: mature ☠️ all ideas helped by @iamnotanearthlingmotherfucker 🖤

Damhnaic was surprised that his master had left him alone with the strange man but he knew that was a good sign. His love had been in obvious pain and needed a moment alone to clear his head. Modig had led him to the bed to sit and then waited for permission as if he knew how important the pelt was. Perhaps he did, the halfling was obviously magic. He took a deep breath and yet again felt the comfort and kinship the blonde exuded and he nodded, patting the fur a small distance away from himself, and the fae smiled as if he was thankful for the trust. He had so many questions but while they had a moment he probably didn't have too long. Hopefully they could find time to talk later. "You know?" He whispered, his heart in his throat. More than anything he wanted to be held by his man. He was so… confused.

"I heard. I normally don't hear the sea but it sang to me. It was really bitchy actually. I liked it." Mod was obviously half lost to madness but that sometimes happened with halflings. Dom wondered if he knew what he was or if he was just considered gifted. He couldn't help smiling at the thought, he was quite sure that it wasn't the sea but he wouldn't give away his friends. Of course Tom was pissed. "I was expecting you though. I'm glad you finally arrived. He needs you."

The selkie's mouth curled up at the corner, a gentle fond smile painting his lips. "Did I 'urt 'im? I been singing me whole life and it's never… worked. Fhought I couldn't. I don't want to force nuffin." He tried not to whine but the fae shook his head.

"Don't worry. I think he wants it more than you but he's a stubborn bastard. Inga suggested you get him drunk." It hit Dom why the man had looked so familiar, his gentle eyes and soft smile were a copy of the woman's but when he didn't say 'mum' the boy didn't think he should ask. He'd just have to remember to talk to her soon. His gaze kept flicking to the door, his pointed ear twitching he was listening so hard for his love to return. "I think you were meant to meet. He's unlocking your truth and you his."

Dom tilted his head, his brows furrowing. He didn't know what truth he was shining a light on in his master besides perhaps a latent penchant for men. He was glad to be the first but he wished he himself knew more about his body or how to please Kol. "Am I… is it…" He couldn't figure out a way to ask about the mess pouring from him without embarrassing them both. Mod may not even know.

"Quite a heat in the air don't you think?" The halfling teased but when Dom just seemed even more confused he swallowed hard. He would not give the boy a sex talk, his brother would skin him alive. "He's your key. Trust yourselves, especially together. You were always meant to find your way together." There… that wasn't too much trouble. He hoped. He knew there was so much he needed to tell the boy but it wasn't time. For now they needed to learn each other, he didn't think they really knew anything, not even surface level- but they had time to discover. The stars weren't rushing him yet. This was what was meant to happen and the rest would unfold. It was like a song that had just been waiting for the first note to be played.

"You won't be 'elpful will yas?" Damhnaic huffed, a half cocked grin on his face. He could see the halfling working through whatever thoughts were in his mind, probably he was still listening to whispers Dom was thankful not to deal with. He didn't need any extra voices in his head, his were loud enough already.

Mod laughed and flushed, he wasn't trying to be rude but the boy was so innocent. He knew it was the slowly unlocking potential and the already burning connection between the two but he was still almost surprised that his chief was so excited by it. He didn't have to have the Sight to know Kol'son was hiding somewhere and pleasuring himself so he wouldn't attack the kid. Although he knew it must be torture, almost like a second maturity. He was just glad he'd never have to feel it. He didn't think… "It's not on purpose. I believe I can help with the right questions but… not with everything. Perhaps ask Kol about-" He paused and cleared his throat and tried very hard to not look down at his new friend's lap. The smell was cloying to him, he couldn't imagine what their leader was going through. "That. Or Inga." He added the last thought with a small shrug of his shoulder.

"You really fink he'll say any'fin to me tha' might make me ears a bit less pure?" Dom was surprised at himself, he'd been trying to bite back most of his sarcasm but of course it slipped out unbidden but thankfully the other fae laughed. "Tell me I'm wrong! He sweet but gods. I ain't some little babe. Jus' cause I was meant to be a god's play fing-" He clamped his jaw shut tight and looked away. He might be comfortable with Mod but that didn't mean he should spill everything. If he said the wrong thing he might be cast out just for being gifted to a god not of their religion.

"Blood of the sea knows nothing when desperate. It whispers… you were born His. You were never meant for Them." Dom watched as Mod's eyes went distant. He could tell he was listening to the secrets in the air and for just a moment he strained to listen himself but he heard nothing. Nothing but-

"Shite he's almost back. Wha' do you mean Modig? Who? Kol?" He rushed to ask but the halfling was shaking his head to clear it, that same soft smile on his face. He needed to know and he almost reached for the other fae but he didn't want his master getting the wrong idea. Blood of the sea had to be his family but... Who were the other two? Kol'son? His family's god?

"The wolf will rise. Just give it time." Dom's jaw almost dropped, he knew the bastard thought he was being helpful but that just confused him more. Wolf? He was a fucking selkie. Wait… didn't they call Kol Feilan? Wolfling? His brows furrowed and his hand dropped to his belly. Perhaps Mod meant they would make their own? Would the clan even accept that?

Whatever Kol'son thought to find when he reached his bed it wasn't the sight in front of him. Mod was smiling like a loon which was honestly normal but it was his thrall that stopped him in his tracks and made him think he might need a little more air. The boy was staring off in the distance, obviously lost in thought, his jade eyes wide and reflecting the fire with gold. There was a beautiful smile on his face and his hand was resting over his stomach, the whole pose gave the man ideas he definitely didn't need. "Do you feel ill?" He asked because he was sure whatever the kid was thinking of wasn't what was crossing his mind. If anything he was a pervert. He shouldn't read so deeply into things.

Dom shook himself and sniffled, he felt so overwhelmed by the thought and whatever emotions were burning through him. He'd been sensitive all day but gods above he needed to control himself better. He caught sight of his love and tried to wave his worry off, his cheeks flushing at getting caught. Even if his leader wanted babes he was sure he wouldn't want them with him. They just met. He'd just been watching Kol'son for so long and already given the human his whole heart. Mod winked at him and stood to leave, patting the chieftain's shoulder as he passed. "Rest, I think you've had far too much excitement for one day brother." He teased before taking his leave.

Dom felt lost as he was left alone with his master. He wanted more than anything to curl up with the man but he was obviously being careful. They both were. "I'm alright. A little… confused? Did I 'urt you?" He let slip before he remembered Kol wouldn't know what he meant. He reached for his hand and waited, staring up with wide gentle eyes.

Kol'son couldn't help but laugh, his thrall was so innocent he didn't understand his own pleasure and he didn't realize why he'd left for a moment. He sighed deep, taking the boy's hand and sitting next to him. He could do this, he just needed to be careful. "Of course not." He soothed, pressing a kiss to the boy's hair. "You were beautiful. Did you feel good?" He asked, his fingertips brushing softly up and down Dom's thigh.

The fae couldn't stop himself from shivering, he could feel the heat between his legs back with a vengeance. It happened any time the human was near but now that he was touching him of his own volition? Fuck. "Oh!" He purred as it hit him, his master was calling back to what happened between them earlier in the day. "You made me feel good. Did I-" His gaze couldn't help but drop to the man's cock. He didn't see a fresh wet spot though.

"Don't pout little one. You made me feel so good but…" The chieftain bit his lip, he wanted to be honest but… how honest? "You've now made me feel good five times today. I haven't felt like that in… fuck- ever." He laughed. Even when he hit his maturity he never needed to touch himself five times in one day and if the boy kept pouting it'd be six. Shit he should probably find a balm for his cock if he would be fisting it so often. He couldn't help but think how nice the kid's wetness would feel. The grin Dom gave him made his heart beat faster and when the boy stood his brows furrowed.

"We should rest, don't you fink?" Dom giggled, trying to sway his hips as he went to put out some of the fire. They'd had such a long night and it was almost impossible to him that he'd only been with his master a day. He could feel those heavy blue eyes on him as he reached for the edge of his tunic and pulled it slowly off himself. The noise that escaped the human when he was nude had him hiding a smile. He may not understand everything but that didn't matter, he knew when he was being admired. "You should undress. I don't like nuffin against me skin but fur." He huffed, walking back to the bed slowly to give his love time to obey.

Kol'son knew he shouldn't but… he did say he'd only do what Dom wanted. They spent the previous night nude in bed together as well. It'd be fine. He'd already abandoned his tunic to the wash and he made quick work of his pants. He was honestly surprised at his own nerves when he was bare to that sweet loving gaze again. The first thing Dom looked at was his cock but he tried to be quick, he had a little control and he didn't want to mess it up. "'Old me?" He asked, crawling in next to his man and though the leader swallowed hard he did as he was asked. The way Dom fit in his hold was intoxicating, he'd never thought anyone fit with him but they felt like they belonged exactly where they were. The kid's ass was a revelation as it pressed against his dick but he could literally feel the heat from his core. It had to hurt he was so fever warm.

"Rest. I'll protect you."

Dom smiled as his eyes closed. He's never been so excited and comfortable at the same time but he would try to do as he was told. "You too daidí." He hummed, his body rocking gently as if he were in the waves of the sea.

Author's Note/Tags: @manicpixiedreamb0y @hollywoodxwhore @jaxbreaker @cole-way-iero28 @iamnotanearthlingmotherfucker 🖤

I know some of this was cryptic but that's just normal for a seer, all will be explained as it goes. Next chapter will have a sex talk with Inga so look forward to that 😂🖤☠️

[doggirling]

Do you have any Lancelot (Kirby) headcannons?

HI SO SORRY THIS IS LATE I WAS BUSY AS HELLLLL. doing this under a read more cause im gonna get probably very rambly and will also probably mention original arthurian legend too much so im sorry anon i hope this is ok

ok for starters i've only just gotten into arthurian mythology so im gonna try keeping my hcs inspired from that to a minimum. i wanna read more in depth about stuff before i start getting real about it. luckily sir lancelot (kirby) can be molded like putty compared to sir lancelot (og lore) cause hes like. almost a bare minimum blank slate. HCS MAY BE PRONE TO CHANGE:

sir arthur's right-hand man, OBVIOUSLY. since arthur has a reputation to keep up as the leader of the star warriors, lancelot's the one who does the more dirty/gritty work behind the curtains on his behalf. meaning arthur doesn't have to worry about his hands getting stained with the more brutal aspects of war, and he can keep his warm/virtuous persona up for the public.

tied into the last hc and vaguely inspired by og arthurian lore, lancelot can be a very, very scary warrior to encounter in the heat of battle. while he does a somewhat good job at hiding it, he is no stranger to entering violent battle-frenzy states where he's like. straight up unhinged. i don't know (yet) if i'd go as far as to say it's a full-blown bloodlust thing since im still sort of debating internally if he'd actually find genuine enjoyment in the act, but he is definitely familiar with inflicting carnage.

(sssssslightly leaning into oc based hc territory) lancelot has a natural affinity for water! he's significantly less prone to ailments commonly associated with being submerged in bodies of water (hypothermia, shock, decompression sickness, pulmonary barotrauma, etc etc), he’s an incredible swimmer, and he can hold his breath up to 15 minutes! perks of being raised by a selkie mom since you were an infant lol.

not an exactly sociable man (also probably because of being raised by nimue lol). really digging into how arthur’s the one who’s more revolved in public interactions while he’s the one behind him in his shadow. i wouldn’t exactly say he’s super asocial or anything, but he’s very stoic and not too chatty. in all honesty, he’s actually a bit awkward sometimes. that’s why he leaves the important talking to arthur. 

he’s French 🇫🇷😨😨 WHY WHY WHY 😭😭😭😭😭💔💔💔

likes fishing to relax. he's very good at it too. (image related)

related to some of the earlier hcs: he's kind of... an odd fellow. he was mostly raised alongside selkies/seals, and while nimue made sure to integrate him into common society the best she could, you can tell he still prefers to lean more to the selkie way of living in many aspects. he straight up eats raw fish (like im talking literal live fish. not even the sushi type), exclusively takes cold water baths/showers, and goes out in -8c weather in shorts. he also sometimes lays face down in water like a floating corpse to meditate but nimue definitely didn't teach his ass to do that.

thats it. for now. im so sorry anon you asked for hcs and i dropped a fucking seminar with a sprinkle of ocs on top. I hope this is ok for my first hc post and I also hope I do NOT look insane.

[alecodys]

real question. does alecody go canon in every au.

(also im intrigued by the selkie au!! tell me more)

i swear this wasnt intentional. but so far the answer is a yes 💀

the selkie au follows sierra and alejandro who r both sailors from the town of wawanakwa on the east coast of canada in the late 1800s. they became sailors SPECIFICALLY to escape their hometown but an early winter forces them to dock in wawanakwa during a voyage to nuuk since they werent prepared. im not entirely sure who else i want to be part of their crew yet aside from jasmine

the reason they wanted to get out of wawanakwa so bad (aside from family troubles) is bc for a port town its absolutely tiny and nothing new or exciting ever happens. so when the two dock the ship and go into town to buy some food, 100% expecting to spend as much time as they can on their boat to avoid talking to all the people they left behind, its a bit of a major shock when they find two strangers at the store: heather and cody. (also yes this is ANOTHER heatherra and alecody au . sorry)

you see. heather and cody r both selkies who got turned around as a result of aforementioned unusually cold weather. while hanging out in a small cave near town one night for some rest, someone stole their skins, meaning they couldnt return to their seal forms. the two of them have been trying to figure out who stole their skins for the past week, but have been having a TERRIBLE time bc theyre outsiders and the town Does Not Like Them

the only reason the duo entrust alejandro nd sierra (and the rest of the crew, but that comes later) w this secret is bc, well. they werent in town when their skins got stolen and it would help to have actual humans on their side, especially since neither heather or cody r particularly familiar with human customs. hijinks ensue nd secrets r revealed as they try to figure out who did it so that heather nd cody can get their skins back and so alejandro nd sierra can finally abandon their hometown for good

[undercoveravenger]

Under Your Skin

Creature Week 2020: Day Four

Pairing: Gil x Selkie!Male!Reader

Request: “Gil from Descendants with a selkie male reader who keeps visiting the Isle?”

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The first time that Gil had seen the seal he had been pretty young, only eight or nine years old. He’d been hiding on the beach under the old docks, since he knew that his brothers and father would give him hell if they caught him crying again. His mother told him it was because he had a kind heart, but Harry had always just said it was because he was a crybaby. He’d tried to not let it ever get to him because even a grumpy friend was better than none at all in his childish mind, but some days the brunet’s words really weighed on him.

Which was why he was curled up under the docks on his own, wiping away tears with chubby hands and sniffling away sobs as he tried to figure out why he was just so different from his older brothers.

He was startled from his reverie by the sound of a splash and a quiet barking sound. His eyebrows furrowed and he scrubbed a hand across his face as he looked down at the small seal pup staring up at him. “What do you want?” he muttered petulantly, crossing his arms over his chest. “Go away. I don’t have any fish for you.”

The seal had merely barked up at him, splashing its way out of the shallow waves and up the small stretch of rocky beach until it was sitting in front of him, placing one little flipper against his leg.

“What?” He had asked, feeling kind of dumb as he looked down into the seal’s wide (e/c) eyes. It was an animal; he knew it couldn’t understand him.

Nevertheless, the seal had let out a quiet groaning noise and shifted onto one side so it could put a flipper over its face. It only rested it there for a moment before straightening up again and staring pointedly up at Gil.

The blond had rolled his eyes, but swiped at his eyes anyway, surprised to find that he must have stopped crying without realizing it.

The seal let out a pleased bark, nudged its head against Gil’s leg and then turned and flopped its way back into the sea.

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

Gil could recall a few other times that he had encountered the strange seal through the years, but it mostly appeared when he was hiding out under the dock. Once it had appeared when he was on Uma’s ship after she won it from Harry’s father. Harry had given him a strange look when he had waved down at the small spotted creature, muttering under his breath about selkies invading their waters.

The blond had been understandably confused, tearing his gaze away from his little seal friend to look at the brunet. “What’s a selkie?”

Harry pulled a face, crossing his arms over his chest as he stared down at the seal playing in the waves. “There was a group of ‘em that lived near Neverland accordin’ to my dad. Beautiful ladies and gents tha’ could turn into seals when they wore their sealskins. My dad used to tell me about men he knew that’d take their skins and hide ‘em in order to keep the selkies as their wives. As soon as the creatures found their skins though, they’d be back at sea and the men who loved them would never see them again.”

“Why would they do that though? If the men loved them, why wouldn’t they let it be the selkie’s choice?” He found his gaze trailing back to the pinniped, watching in awe as it danced gracefully through the waves. 

Harry had shrugged, “They were still wild animals.” He placed a hand on Gil’s shoulder, “Look, mate, don’t go chasin’ after any selkies, yeah? I don’t want to see your heart get broken by some stupid seal.”

“Yeah,” Gil had mumbled quietly, knowing it was easier to agree with Harry than to disagree. “Stupid.”

He’d been haunted by the betrayed look in the seal’s eyes in the years following, in which the seal seemed to have chosen to remain unseen, even when he visited his old hiding spot under the pier.

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

Years passed and the seal had all but vanished from his thoughts; the strange encounters slipping away as he grew up, the crew and his classes at Dragon Hall taking up his spare time. He was working a spare shift at Ursula’s Fish and Chips as a favor to Uma when it all came crashing back.

The blond wandered over to a table with a stranger sitting at it, his legs kicked up on the chair across from him and an oddly patterned leather jacket slung over the back of the chair next to him. “What can I get started for you tonight?” Gil asked, grinning brightly as he got ready to write down the (h/c)’s order on the notepad he’d brought over.

The stranger looked up from his menu when he heard Gil speak, a faint grin causing the corners of his mouth to quirk upward. “The special, please.”

The blond didn’t even realize that he had spoken, too surprised by the familiarity of the stranger’s warm (e/c) eyes. Gil was certain that he had never seen the stranger before, but his eyes were practically identical to those of the baby seal from all those years ago.

“Hey, are you alright?” The stranger asked, standing and putting a steadying hand on Gil’s shoulder. “You seem a little out of it.”

He nodded slowly, shaking off his previous stupor. He was sure it was nothing more than a coincidence. “Yeah, um, the special, right? I’ll get right on that.” Without even waiting for him to confirm his order, Gil took off, weaving his way back toward the kitchen so at least he could get a brief respite.

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

“The hell’s wrong with you?” Harry snapped as he strode through the swinging door into the kitchen after his friend, “Table six has been waitin’ on their food for-” he cut himself off as he took in Gil’s frazzled state. “Gil, mate, are you okay?”

The blond looked startled at his friend’s sudden appearance, seeming to almost physically force himself out of his thoughts. “I- yeah, totally great.” He forced a smile but Harry didn’t seem convinced.

“What's got you even more out of it than normal?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

Gil shook his head, hurrying to load the food he’d been meant to take to a table onto a tray. “Nothing, just- I saw the guy at Table Ten and he looked really familiar, is all.”

Harry’s brows furrowed in confusion, “Table Ten?” He rolled his eyes as Gil nodded distractedly, turning to peer through the narrow window that looked out into the dining room. “There’s no one there, just some manky old jacket.”

“What?” Gil asked, visibly baffled as he moved to verify what his friend had told him, “But he was just-?”

The brunet rolled his eyes, snatching the tray from Gil, “Go.”

Gil looked up at him with wide eyes and Harry nodded toward the abandoned jacket, “You said you might know ‘im, right? Go take that jacket and use it as an excuse to find out. I can handle things here, just be careful, yeah?”

While he was stunned that Harry was so encouraging for him to go looking for someone he might not even know, Gil took advantage of it, throwing his apron on the back counter and hurrying out to grab the jacket that the (h/c) had left behind before running out of the restaurant.

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

Gil wasn’t sure how exactly he knew where to find you, but as he came to a stop under the old pier where he used to hide as a kid he wasn’t surprised to see you sitting at the water’s edge, staring out over the breaking waves.

“You, um, you left this at the restaurant,” he called, slowly picking his way across the rocky shore toward you.

You didn’t even startle at the sound of his voice, which made Gil wonder if you had left the jacket behind on purpose. There was an odd look in your eye as he sat down beside you. “You actually brought it back to me?”

“Yeah?” Gil asked, confused by the incredulous look in your eyes. He turned his gaze down to the coat in his lap. From far away, the jacket had seemed almost black in color, but from this close he could tell that it was actually a dark grey, dappled with even darker spots in a seemingly random pattern. It was incredibly soft and Gil almost didn’t want to let go of it. “Why wouldn’t I?”

You let out a disbelieving snort, turning back to look over the water. “A lot of people wouldn’t, if they knew what it was.”

“They wouldn’t give it back if they knew it was a jacket?” Gil was definitely confused.

The sound of your laughter made Gil grin, even if he wasn’t exactly sure what was so funny. “Something like that.” You chuckled, eyes twinkling mischievously. You bit your lip, turning to look at Gil suddenly, “Y’know, I used to come here a lot when I was younger.”

“Really?” The blond gasped, “Me too! This was where I’d come to be alone.” He grinned sheepishly, pushing his hair back out of his eyes.

“I know,” you said, smile fading a little at the obvious confusion on the blond’s face. “I was there.”

Gil shook his head, brows furrowing close over his azure eyes, “No, I was always alone. Except for when this little seal-” he cut himself off, voice trailing off as his gaze dropped to the jacket in his lap. Now that he looked closer, he could tell that the jacket wasn’t leather at all and the spots almost looked like the ones that had been on that little seal all those years ago. He shook his head, eyes finding yours quickly, “No, it’s not possible-”

“Isn’t it?” You cocked your head, nodding in the direction of the Chip Shop, “Your friend certainly seemed to believe in selkies. Or he used to, at least. I had hoped he’d convince you to believe the same before I came back.”

Gil’s eyes darted between you and what must’ve been your sealskin. “If you’re telling the truth, then why did you leave this behind? Anyone could’ve taken it and then you would’ve been trapped on land forever.”

You laughed, grinning fondly at the pirate, “I knew you wouldn’t let someone else take it. Not after the way you reacted to seeing me again, even if you didn’t know it was me yet.”

“Why did you…?” Gil started, though his voice failed him before he could ask what had been weighing on him.

“What, leave?” When Gil nodded, you sighed, but chose to answer him anyway. “I had to. I had just about gotten old enough to learn how to change forms, so my family and I had to go away until they were sure I could control it. And what you said on that ship had hurt. I had thought you’d realized that I wasn’t going to hurt you; that I wanted to be friends.” You shrugged, casting your gaze back out to the horizon, “I still do.”

Gil swallowed, trailing his fingers lightly over the dappled spots on your jacket as he thought about what you had told him. “I want that too.” He bit his lip nervously, “And I’m sorry about what I said back then; I didn’t know.”

You waved off his apologies, grinning wryly, “I couldn’t have expected you to. It’s not like I could tell you. But let’s start over, yeah?” You turned to face him, holding out your hand, “I’m (M/N), and I can turn into a seal.”

The blond laughed but shook your hand anyway, “I’m Gil.” He grinned nervously, “And I happen to really like a guy that can turn into a seal.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle, twisting your hand in his so you could interlock your fingers. “Well, that’s sure convenient, isn’t it?”

Gil ducked his head to try and hide the blush dusting his cheeks but jolted a little when his gaze fell back to the jacket in his lap. He was quick to offer it to you, though he couldn’t bring himself to let go of it immediately, “How do I know you won’t leave again?”

You grinned at him, leaning in to press a quick kiss to his lips as you took your sealskin back, “Don’t worry, even if I do have to go, I’ll always come back for you.”

[bump1nthen1ght]

Deep Blue Sea (Shark Merman x Reader) Chapter 1

Pairing: Gender Neutral! Reader/Shark Merman

Genre: Urban Fantasy, Soulmate AU

Warning: None

Word Count: 2682 words

Summary: You have a chat with your soulmate

Prologue

“So, you want some?”

He  takes your stunned silence as no, checking that the crab is fully dead before pulling off a leg and biting the meat inside. His teeth catch the light of the setting sun, glinting white in between chunks of crab.

“So were-”

“Soulmates? Yeah, looks like it.” He, your soulmate, cracks off another leg and begins to chew. You find yourself transfixed watching him, mind reeling with questions. He uses the sharp claws on the tips of his fingers to dig out more meat. You’re not even sure where to begin.

“What do we do know?”

He shrugs, sucking out the last of the crab leg and tossing it aside.

“Dunno, guess this mystery is solved though.” He taps his wrist and you get a closer look at his soulmate mark.

It loosely resembles a human compass, yet alien in it’s design.There’s eight large symbols, none of which you recognize, and the arrow is slightly misshapen before straightening to a point.

“I always assumed my soulmate was in the Atlantic or something, maybe even a selkie. When that thought always drove my ma up the reef.” He sighs, pressing his chin against his palm as he lays against a rock. “Wonder how she’ll take this. Maybe she’ll turn a whole new shade of blue.”

His chuckle is low, rough against your ears, but not entirely unpleasant.

You can see more of his backside as he scoots closer into the tidepool. The first thing you notice is just how big he is, his tail stretching from his hips to the open ocean. The second thing you notice are the defined muscles which stretch and flex along his back.

Okay, what the fuck.

There’s a pressure building in your temples and you think you're beginning to overload. Your fucking soulmates eyes wander, looking nonchalant as can be beforeperking up when he sees another crab. His body slithering away from you to snatch it up snaps you out of shutdown mode.

“Uh, I guess….what’s your name?” He doesn’t take his eyes off his soon to be snack, only humming to acknowledge he even heard you. “I think that’s a good place to start, don’t you?” That at least gets you a chuckle, followed by a tiny crack!

“Cruz, you can call me Cruz.” You make eye contact as he takes a long, languid bite of crab. Your furrow your eyebrows, face unimpressed. He lights up with a mischievous grin.

“Is that your real name?”

“Nope,” Cruz says, popping the p and breaking open a claw, “But I don’t think you could pronounce my name so…..”

The tension in your jaw tights as he turns away from you once more,humming to himself and letting out a soft “Oh!” as the other leg reveals quite a bit of meat. You rub your brow and sigh.

“My names _____”

“Neat.”

In high school, your mom got the yearbook epithet “biggest social butterfly.” Your dad, however, was barely presentable on picture day and a social circle consisting of the three fellow chess-club members. You were a lot like your dad in many ways.

The conversation, to say the least, seemed to float on the water like a dead fish, and you had no idea how to resuscitate it. It wasn’t easy, it wasn’t natural, it wasn’t that missing piece yoru guidance counselor said it would and dammit, it’s kind of pissing you off. You’re pissed off that it’s pissing you off, because when has making first impressions ever been easy for you? Did you think this was going to be different, because what, a stupid mark on your wrist? That has no basis in logic, not even a little bit.

You refuse to dignify any emotions similar to disappointment which begin to well inside you, because it’s ridiculous. You worked hard to get to California, you’ve worked hard your whole damn life, what's stopping you from working now?

“Welp, seems I scared away all the other crabs.” Cruz huffs and places his hands on his...hips? “Been nice chatting _____, but I got dinner to catch.” Cruz looks back at you as he slinks into the water, sending a salute and a wink.

The words bubble up in your chest before you can catch them as he begins to swim away.

“Wait, but, um, I-” Your commands fall clumsily out of your mouth and barely leaves a ripple on the water. Cruz doesn’t turn around.

You feel the heat sizzling up your neck and face as you look at his back. Flashes of him, the arrow, your mom, that stupid guidance counselor paint the inside of your eyelids.

No.

“Will you wait a second!”

The scream barely echoes in the small tidepool, but it’s enough to catch Cruz’s attention. He whips back to you, eyes slightly wide. You realize just how hard you’re breathing.

“I-, just, can you meet me here? Tomorrow?” Cruz's expression stays still, only the slightest bit of confusion crossing his eyes as he raises his brow. “I want to get to know you better.”

“Oh, um, okay.”

….

….

“What time….. do you want to meet up?” Cruz looks far less mischievous and much more sheepish, rubbing the back of his neck with a clawed hand and looking up at you from under his eyelids.

“How about 5PM?”

Cruz narrows his eyes.

“I don’t know what that means.”

Ah, right, merman.

“About three hours before sunset. I mean, do you know how long an hour-”

“Yes, I know how long an hour is. I’m not a pup.” Cruz rolls his eyes

Well, the sass returns.

The two of you stay in that position for a little too long. You begin to rub your arms as the cold of the sea breeze and your social anxiety slowly come back to you.

“See you tomorrow, I guess.” With a hesitant nod, his black-blue eyes looking pensive, he submerges. Your breath comes back to you in a wave as your soulmate swims into the open ocean.

The walk back to civilization is a blur, the pounding voice in your head drawing out all other noise yet barely making sense itself.

You’re not sure what you expected of the first meeting with your soulmate, but it certainly wasn’t that.

---------

The next day, Cruz is waiting for you at the tidepool by 4:55 PM, shucking an oyster with one of his claws. He looks up as your feet splash into the tidepool. You wave.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

It’s an understatement to say the silence is uncomfortable. You take a beach towel out of your bag and begin to lay it on a large rock. The task helps keep your mind distracted, but you feel Cruz’s eyes burn into your back.

“So, I guess, what are you exactly?” You say, sitting yourself down.

“Merman’s best word I’ve heard you humans use, so that.” Cruz has shifted his focus  back on his oyster, which he then downs with one swallow.

“I see, I see. Are all mer-folk as big as you?” That catches Cruz’s attention. A self-satisfied smirk grows on his face as he puffs out his chest.

“Not at all. I’m a Great White and we’re one of the…” Cruz extends his arms art in front of him, flexing his fingers and his biceps in a decidedly braggadocious manner, “bigger species out there.” He finishes his statement with a playful wink. A tiny smile crawls on your face.

Interesting. Male Great Whites are typically around 12 feet, but Cruz is only about 9 feet. I wonder why that is?

“I can see that.” Cruz shifts, ego now lifted, and lays his weight on his right elbow, facing you. “You mentioned a mother, do you have a clan?” Cruz nods.

“Yup. It’s my ma, my dad, my two older sisters, and me. Plus two other families. My ma’s parents were from this reef.”

It’s difficult for you to fight the instinct to whip out your notebook and jot all this down.Your inner scientist screams to pry into the complex social hierarchy and behaviour patterns of this new species. But the more sane part of you knows that would probably be pushing some boundaries.

“Wow, so you’re a true Californian, huh?” Cruz squints his eyes at you. “Uh, that’s where we are. The territory Santa Cruz lies in.”

He gives a low hum, reaching for another oyster  nearby. This movement is far more natural than his earlier show, but you still get a full glimpse of his cut shoulder muscle and tight abdominals. It stirs something in you.

Would he have the swimmer’s V? Okay, stop, focus.

“Yeah, I guess I am.” He pries open the oyster, staring at the soft meta inside. “A member of the clan, born and bred.” Cruz brushed the pad of his finger on the shell, his voice holding a quiet bitterness, tinted somber.

Should you comfort him? He’s within touching distance, but the thought of grabbing his hand feels too intimate, soulmate-ship be damned.

Before you can make a move, Cruz throws his head back and gulps down the oyster. He shakes his head and lets out a small “Ah~”, then pushes his short hair back against his skull. Whatever emotion that was there before, it’s gone.

“Where are you from?”

“East Coast, bordering the Atlantic. So you weren’t too far off.”

“Well, I’m not just a pretty face.” Cruz winks at you, but his eye catches a scuttling crab nearby. He gets low in the water, moving slowly to catch it by surprise. You don’t hum the Jaws theme, despite how much you want to.

“No siblings, just me and my parents.” Cruz doesn’t look away, even as he kills the crab.

“Lucky. How big's your clan?” The familiar crack of the shell follows.

“We don’t really,” crack “...have those. Humans can-” crack “We typically live near each other-” crack “but don’t get that-” crack “....close.”

Cruz hums contently, but you can clearly see it’s from the crab and not your one sided conversation. He sucks juice off his fingers. Seems you’ve lost him once again.

I didn’t expect this to be so difficult.

“Have you ever had cooked crab?” Cruz perks immediately, slowly turning back towards you.

Got ‘im.

----------

You return with two warm lobster rolls, a bag of crab legs, and some shrimp scampi. Cruz’s black-blue eyes just peak out of the water, suspicious.

“So these two are lobster, actually, but this,” You shake the crab-bag, “is all crab. I thought I ‘d get you a couple things to sample.”

Cruz’s nose (Is it a nose? There’s a ridge but you’re not sure if the slits count as nostrils. Questions for later.) just breaches the water as you set the crab-bag down and settle on your rock. You grab a couple of legs for yourself before nudging it  closer to him. “Have at it, it’s pretty self-explanatory.” You say midst a large bit of your lobster roll. The whole meal was not cheap, so you decided to indulge in this treat as much as you can. You’ve had a stressful couple of days.

Cruz slowly approaches the plastic, snatching it up quickly before looking inside it. His eyes widen and there's a small smile on his lips as he pulls a long leg out. His smile only grows bigger.

“Oh, also!” You clap, pointing towards the bag and jolting Cruz out of his food-induced joy. “There’s sauce, garlic butter, shit like that in those little plastic containers at the bottom. You dip the crab meat in them.” You take another large bit of lobster roll and hear Cruz break into a crab leg. Cruz gets his mouth ready to take a big bite before pausing. His eyes flit between the lef and the garlic butter, before he slowly pulls the lid off and dips the meat in. Cruz then takes the tiniest bite possible.

His eyes, black as they are, light up. He quickly takes another, larger bite. It’s quite adorable, like a baby trying ice cream for the first time. Cruz devours the leg quickly before snapping into another sauce.

“You like it?” Cruz nods, cheeks stuffed with crab meat as you giggle.

“What kind of craf is fiss?”

“Dungeness. That’s commonly eaten by humans. They’ve got some of the highest meat value and they're all over  the West Coast.” Cruz nods, though you’re not sure he understands parts of your sentence. “They’re also pretty sustainable to fish, although ocean acidity is kinda fucking with their babies. It’s also been fucking with Red King Crabs, which sucks because their only found in like, four places and are so beautiful and also sustainable and-” Cruz has stopped eating and is staring at you. After a big, long breath in you realize how fast you were talking. You feel the what of your blush on the base of your neck. “Sorry, I’ll let you eat. I just...really like crustaceans. A Lot of aquatic animals, but crabs especially are… I’m doing it again. Sorry.” You take a large bite so you won’t have to talk for a couple of seconds, avoiding eye contact with Cruz. You’re sure your chest and arms are bright red; It’s an embarrassing symptom of when you get too excited.

Cruz just keeps staring at you. Frankly it’s the longest he's looked at you and not a nearby snack. You chew the slowest you possibly can, the brioche bun becoming mush in your mouth, to fill the silence.

You don’t see it, but a small smile widens on his face. He picks at his empty crab shell.

“I think those facts are crab-tastic.”

You immediately choke on a bit of lobster roll, pounding your chest as you sputter between mouthfuls. When your eyes stop watering, you see Cruz has moved closer to you, hand outstretched and a couple inches from resting on your calf. He jerks it back when you look down at him.

“Wow, thanks, but puns aren’t really part of my vocrabulary.” You obnoxiously wink, scrunching up the left side of your face. Cruz laughs. Not a chuckle, but a full, belly laugh.

“Well I find them quite crab-tivating.” A larger laugh bursts from your chest as he mimics your wink and shoots you another big smile.

The sharp teeth are beginning to grow on you, adding to Cruz’s boyish charm. You feel the hot blush in your chest crawl up your neck once more.

Oh fuck.

Cruz reaches for another crab leg but hits the bottom of the bag, a playful pout now on his chin.

“Here, try this next.” You hand him the second lobster roll. “Probably don’t want to get this one wet, it’ll be soggy.” With no hesitation Cruz digs in, perking up once more and going to town. His teeth serate through the bread like butter. Within 4 bites, the entire roll is gone.

“Dang, I’ll make sure to bring some more food next time.”Cruz pauses, mid-lick of the butter on his claws and looks up at you.

“Next time? You want to meet up again?” You raise your eyebrow.

“Well yeah, don’t you?”

Cruz stays quiet, no sassy comment or a sarcastic look. Just staring, mildly shocked.

Your embarrassment bubbles back, screaming you’ve misread this whole situation and the last few minutes. “I mean, we are soulmates. Shouldn’t we meet up again?”

Cruz's eyes narrow as a barrage of thoughts seem to flit across his head. His smile recedes back into a straight line, that little spark leaving his eye.

“Yeah, I guess we have too.” He crinkles up the plastic bag, shoving it against your calves. “See you tomorrow.”

A pit rolls in your stomach as he quickly moves to leave.

Did I say something wrong?

“Uh, I’m actually busy tomorrow. Can we do Thursday-er, 3 days from now?” Cruz nods, not turning around to face you before slipping back into the water and swimming away.

The pit doesn’t leave your stomach, an empty sauce container rolling across the rocky shore.

What just happened?

[bytedykes]

also sapheal for the ship thing uwu also DO YOUR HOMEWORK BITCH uwu uwu

who’s the werewolf and who’s the hunter

werewolf simon hehe raphael can either be a hunter who is a vampire or a hunter who is a human person lol it doesnt rlly matter i think fhjskds raphael finds a wolf in the woods who is just. severely incompetent at living in the woods. and hes like ah fuck. i guess ill give you a wilderness survival 101 course and fall in love with you along the way 🙄🙄

who’s the mermaid and who’s the fisherman

MERMAID RAPHAEL but like a COOL mermaid... maybe even a siren... or a selkie... simon accidentally fishes him in and hes like woah who is this pretty guy in my net and raphael straight up attacks him aslfkdjs ITS ROMANTIC tho nobody dies and then raphaels like wait ur too dumb to kill and simon takes offense and thus the greatest love story is born 😌

who’s the witch and who’s the familiar

we all know im a slut for silly but actually trying his best witch simon but hey what abt witch raphael and familiar simon who clashes with raphaels aesthetic in a RIDICULOUS way... simon is a magical parakeet sorry not sorry kjhkfds

who’s the barista and who’s the coffee addict

raphael is too sophisticated to be a barista but hes also too sophisticated to be a coffee addict so raphael is taking the l and working at starbucks. simon is too polite to flirt with someone while theyre working but he awkwardly tries to hit on raph after his shifts. raphael (not so) secretly loves it

who’s the professor and who’s the TA

PROFESSOR RAPHAEL LIVES IN MY HEAD RENT FREE

who’s the knight and who’s the prince(ss)

chatty prince simon,,, stoic knight raphael,,, that is all

who’s the teacher and who’s the single parent

once again i would trust simon to raise a kid on his own with my life so qslkfss single parent raphael (tbh i would trust raphael either but like hed do his best)

who’s the writer and who’s the editor

writer simon editor raphael wooo

jhkfdshk this is so short bc im writing it in class i hope its decent 🥺

[ddaenggtan]

monachopsis | knj x ksj

seokjin knows - has known, for years - that his life will be like this forever. there is no more sea, there is no more swimming, there is no more of anything he used to know. this is life - wake up, go to a shoot, try not to piss giho off, go home, sleep, wake up again. because he was caught. because giho owns him. because he can't. 

but then he meets namjoon. and seokjin starts to realize that maybe...just maybe. he can.

pairing | namjin

rating | sfw (some swearing & violence, so T for teen)

wc | 5.7k | cross-posted to ao3

warnings | mild violence, allusions to violence and physical abuse, a very brief depiction of said abuse, non-sexual choking, non-sexual slavery in a way, selkie!jin, aquarium worker!joon, marine biologist!joon, model!jin

a/n | hi this is for fwl’s Luv Library project, for the Fantasy & Fairytales section, and its also the first mxm i’ve ever posted so it might be a Little Rough but i am very attached to these characters and also i Love Selkies SO you get selkie jin!!! special super shoutout to @personawife​ for reading through it and also giving me the title!!!! im luv u!!! i hope u like the surprise ending that you didn’t get to read bc it was a surprise!!!!!!! ALSO added shoutout to user @jamaisjoons​ for the SUPERB banner she made!!!!!!!! im in love!!!!!!!!!! sol i do not deserve u!!!!!!!!!!

 He misses the sea, sometimes. 

He misses the refracting light and the weightlessness and the bubbles. He aches for the days he could swim, for miles and miles and miles, without getting tired. He misses the way his hair would move in the water, the way it felt to lay in the sun to dry off, the warmth that came with it all. 

Seokjin wraps his sweater more tightly around his torso and forces the thoughts away. Remembering gets him nowhere, he scolds himself. This is his life, now and forever, and he’s got to accept that if he wants to survive long enough to see the sea once more. He can do this. He’s strong enough for this.

The chill of the winter air is strong, too; it seeps into his bones and roots in them, lingering long after he’s made his way inside the studio. Giho is already there, berating some poor girl for her outfit choice. When he sees Seokjin he stops, waving at the intern. She runs out without even looking up. 

“You’re late,” Giho says with a sneer. They both glance at the clock on the wall. 11:55.

“You said noon,” Seokjin responds. His tone is neutral, a carefully constructed skill that has saved his life many times over the years. 

Giho tsks, likely because he can’t outright smack Seokjin with so many people around. Still, Seokjin can feel the old man’s eyes on him as he strips out of his clothes. 

The cold is prominent against his naked skin, and it doesn’t ebb as he slides the new clothes on. Giho is already yelling again, at the stylist this time, and it’s a familiar background noise. It’s still going on when he gets on the set, face in the perfect mask that everyone seems to love. 

The photographer barely needs to direct him; he and Taehyung have worked together for months now, and it only gets easier. Tae knows his best angles, his best lighting, how to highlight the cold expression he wears in shoots so the audience can interpret it their own way. 

Seokjin doesn’t know where Giho found this kid, but Tae is lucky the old bastard can’t keep him.

“To the left,” Tae mutters, and Seokjin does so without a word. 

The hours pass quickly. Between outfit changes and makeup retouches and actually shooting, the day flies. Before he even knows it, the clock is striking ten, and everyone is packing up. 

Jin changes quickly back into his sweater, the ever-colder air chilling him once more. Giho is off to the side with Taehyung and the Artistic Director, Hoseok, all three of them conversing quietly as they look at the photos from today. There’s no need for Seokjin to look; he knows how he did because Giho’s hands are kept to themselves. 

Checking again that they’re all suitably distracted, Seokjin turns to leave. He promptly stops, because he runs almost directly into someone coming through the door. Hands dart up to catch him, big and strong and warm as they wrap around his elbows for a second longer than they should, and there’s a muttered “Sorry,” from the guy in front of him. 

“Careful, hyung,” Taehyung’s voice calls. “Don’t damage the moneymaker.”

Seokjin’s eyes meet the man’s - a warm brown, one that reminds him of chocolate and muddy snow and love - before he physically pulls himself away. He doesn’t have to look at Giho to know what he’s thinking, what his paranoia is telling him about, and Seokjin needs to be able to eat tonight.

“It’s fine,” Seokjin says in the same unaffected voice he always uses around sets. “Barely touched me.”

The man frowns - probably because Seokjin is lying - but he lets it go, and Seokjin is thankful for it. Small mercies. 

“Jin,” Giho calls. He stops and turns. “Eleven, tomorrow.” He nods and leaves, ignoring the exhaustion in his bones and the familiar sorrow that fills his chest as he passes the all-too-familiar trunk by the door.

In the studio he leaves behind, Namjoon shares a look with his brother, who very minutely shakes his head. Namjoon knows that look, created that look to warn Tae off the ones that were more trouble that he could handle. Namjoon always wondered why his little brother never listened to that look. 

As he and Taehyung head to dinner, passing billboard after poster after billboard with Jin’s face on it, Namjoon thinks he might understand. 

The guy shows up more often. Seokjin knows his name, has said it a thousand times in his head over the weeks, but he won’t let himself acknowledge it. He can feel the guy’s stares on him, every time he arrives to get Tae at the same time Seokjin is running out the door after a shoot. He feels the interest, he’s intimately familiar with how it feels to have someone’s eyes running up and down his body, and he knows exactly what kind of danger that puts the both of them in. 

Giho sees it too, he’s sure. That’s the most dangerous part of it, the thing that could be the end of them both. He hasn’t said anything - yet - but Jin is positive as he switches poses for Taehyung that Giho can tell. 

He can tell that Namjoon - the guy , Jin corrects himself - is showing up earlier and earlier, more and more often, often hanging out beside the photo monitor and talking to Hoseok while he waits. That his eyes linger, long after the model is gone, and that they wonder, about everything. That he’s interested . 

Seokjin doesn’t like to remember what happened to the last man that was interested in him. 

It’s pouring rain. There’s a fog over the city that clouds vision and hushes conversation. There’s damp in the air, a wetness that seeps into each breath and covers the earth in its scent. It’s like a blanket over everything, making it all grey and dark and quiet, and Seokjin lives for it. 

It reminds him of the sea. How it would churn and darken and crash before a storm. The way the salt spray would hit the ice, the smell of the lightning in the air, the way he could just let it carry him wherever it wanted him to go. 

He stands outside the studio. Giho left hours before, for some important networking dinner. He’d tried to drag Seokjin along with him, until Taehyung offhandedly mentioned needing to reshoot a couple things. Giho had sneered and stormed out and that was that.  

Now he stands outside, in the rain, with his back against the building. The trunk is just on the other side of the wall; it lingers in the back of his mind, taunting. He can feel it. He knows it’s there. 

It’s a testament to how thorough Giho is in his punishments that Seokjin doesn’t attempt to claw it open and instead just tips his head back, eyes closed, basking in the water soaking his sweater and the pull he can feel in his stomach. 

He should be swimming.

“Do you need a ride?”

Seokjin doesn’t even open his eyes; he knows the voice. Has spent too long hearing it murmur on the sidelines of photoshoots, has watched its owner as his lips form words he isn’t supposed to listen to. 

He should ignore it. That’s what Giho would warn him to do.

“Jin?” 

He flutters his lids open, casting a glance at where Namjoon and Taehyung stand. Taehyung has his camera out, and Seokjin has no doubt he’s already snapped a few photos of their surroundings out of habit. 

“I’m fine,” he says softly. His voice is slightly hoarse from disuse, but Namjoon doesn’t even flinch. Taehyung is fiddling with his camera, oblivious to the way Namjoon’s eyes search Seokjin’s face for the lie he won’t find.

The rain is the only solace that Seokjin gets; he cherishes these nights. He won’t cut it short, especially not for a human.

“I’m fine,” He repeats. Against his better judgement, he continues, “I enjoy the rain. It’s refreshing.”

“Refreshing…” Namjoon echoes quietly. Neither of them speak, for a long moment; Namjoon continues to look for any sign that Seokjin is lying, and Seokjin continues to pretend the streaks on his cheeks are from the raindrops. 

“Walk Jin home.”

They both turn at that, to where Taehyung has his camera pressed to his eye as he frames some shots. When he’s finished, and there’s been no response, Taehyung looks at them both. 

“It’s bad weather,” Taehyung explains, “On a dark night. It’d be rude of us to let you walk home alone when anything could be lurking in the shadows.”

Namjoon looks at Seokjin, practically begging for him to agree. He should say no. He should walk himself the ten blocks to his apartment, and pretend neither of them ever said anything, and continue on with his life. Giho would go berserk if he ever found out, would never allow it, would do everything he could to prevent it. 

“Sure,” Seokjin says. He’s tired of doing what Giho wants. He’s tired of being without the sea, being kept landlocked with just the rain to remind him of home. “It’s this way.”

Namjoon and Taehyung share a look, but Seokjin pays it no mind as he heads down the street. 

The rain is coming down in sheets, and his clothes are soaked. They rest heavy against his skin, and it just makes Seokjin miss the ocean more. He misses how it felt to be weightless, constantly; to feel so powerful and strong and capable. He never feels that way on land. 

“How long have you been a model?” Namjoon eventually asks. For a moment - a split second - Seokjin considers ignoring him. It’s what Giho would demand he do. 

“Too long,” He says instead. 

“You don’t enjoy it?” Namjoon asks, surprised. Seokjin shakes his head, just slightly. 

“I do, it’s just…” He searches for the words. He can’t tell anyone about it, has no one to talk to, no one that would believe him. He’s never even felt the urge to share it. Until now. “It’s not what I would have picked for myself.”

Namjoon is silent beside him, and Seokjin can feel the question on the tip of his tongue. He’s going to ask why he does it, why he would bother being a model if it isn’t what he wants to do, and then Seokjin will be forced to come up with an excuse. 

“What would you have picked?” Namjoon asks instead. 

It brings all of the thoughts in his head to a standstill; all the worry and anxiety and stress stops, distracted by the thought that he had wanted, once upon a time. It takes a long time for Seokjin to find words, to find something that could translate into human language. 

“To swim,” He says simply. “To be in the ocean, or with my family. Something.”

“You aren’t with your family?”

“No.” He debates how much to say, but eventually, Seokjin decides, fuck it . He’s been quiet for long enough, and something about Namjoon is comforting, and soothing, and encouraging. “I lost them, when I was very young.”

“I’m sorry,” Namjoon says, and Seokjin thinks he actually means it, even if he doesn’t know the real truth of the matter. How Seokjin strayed too far from them, despite the warnings he’d been given his entire life. How he wanted to stretch human legs and snuck away and got caught by someone that recognized the coat drying on a rock and what he was. 

How Giho locked it away, for years, and forced Seokjin to be his ticket to wealth. 

“So am I.”

It becomes an irregularly regular thing, Namjoon walking him home. 

He can’t do it every night. They’re both too aware of the way Giho watches them, though for different reasons. Namjoon doesn’t know what Giho has done to others in his position, the lengths he’s gone to ensure Seokjin stays his. 

But the nights when he can, when Giho leaves for some dinner or event or something and Taehyung can come up with a believable excuse...those are the nights that Seokjin starts looking forward to. 

He learns so much about Namjoon - that he studied marine biology in school, got his doctorate in it as soon as he could; that he visits his parents’ grave every Wednesday morning, leaves flowers for them when he has the money; that he wants to travel the world and help endangered species everywhere, wants to take Taehyung with him as a nature photographer; that he’s the best man Seokjin has ever known with the biggest heart and the most patience that he’s ever seen. 

Namjoon doesn’t question why Seokjin only ever gives vague answers, or skirts around mentions of where he comes from, or why he doesn’t have a phone. He doesn’t ask Seokjin to let him up into the apartment, or answer his questions, or explain why he stays at arm’s length despite leaning closer because Namjoon is warm. 

He doesn’t question any of it, and it makes Seokjin’s heart flutter dangerously in his chest, and it means that when Namjoon asks if he has a free day anytime soon, Seokjin only hesitates for a second before he responds. 

“Giho has a business trip coming up,” he tells Namjoon. “As long as we have three full shoots, he won’t suspect anything.”

“Will you come with me?” Namjoon asks. “I just want to distract you for the day. I’ve seen your life, what you do, so much. I’d like to show you mine, if you’ll let me.” 

He should say no. He shouldn’t go with him, he should say no, and stop letting Namjoon walk him home, and let Giho move them across the country again.

“Sure.”

The day comes. Seokjin dresses nicer, though he’ll never admit it. A nice button-down, black slacks, hair styled, sunglasses to combat the glare in the sky. Giho is gone for three days - three marvelous, liberated days - and Seokjin can use that time to come up with a believable excuse if he’s recognized.

Namjoon looks like he always does - warmth and welcome and strength. It settles in Seokjin’s chest the second he sees Namjoon, and he wonders if this is what people meant when they say they found home in someone.

He doesn’t ask Namjoon where they’re going; just follows him onto the subway, and off, and on, and off again, listening to him talk about this cafe and that bookstore and the busker on the corner. He gets the full experience of Namjoon’s commute, and he couldn’t be more in love with him. 

With it. He’s in love with it , the commute, seeing what other people do each day. That’s all, because that’s all he can let himself have. 

When they arrive, Seokjin stares. He doesn’t know why he didn’t know, why he didn’t put the pieces together from all the times Namjoon has mentioned his work and his degree, but he didn’t...he didn’t think , didn’t even consider, and now he stands on the sidewalk, staring at the large building, and Namjoon is waiting for him. 

“Seokjin?” He asks softly. “We can turn around right now.” 

He looks at Namjoon - really looks at him. Takes in the nice turquoise shirt and the cuffed slacks and the dress shoes, the glasses that are so thick Seokjin wonders how he sees without them at all, the way there’s already disappointment clouding the acceptance in his eyes. 

“No,” He says. “No, it’s fine. Let’s go.”

He shouldn’t be here, his mind tells him throughout each exhibit. Not just because of Giho this time, but for himself. 

Namjoon is so excited about each exhibit, telling him about each creature as they go through. He mentions how each one has its own name, though they get confused sometimes for the larger populations. How so many have been released into the wild successfully, how so many have been rebuilt and are on the brink of non-endangered status. 

He talks about the sharks, and how Louise and Wheein haven’t been getting along, but that Yari and Chainsaw are expecting a pup soon; he talks about the penguins and how Potato keeps stealing extra fish but he does it to give to Frenchie, so they let him get away with it; he talks about the jellyfish, and the rays, and the octopuses, and everyone and everything, and it’s nearly too much for Seokjin, but he manages. 

He gets through nearly the entire aquarium, exhausted but content with the happy grin on Namjoon’s face, but he stops, because Namjoon has mentioned Maple throughout the entire trip, has talked about her before. Seokjin knows Maple’s history better than his own, almost, but he never realized…

Now he does. He watches as Maple dives back down off the landing, flipping and turning in the water. They stand in a viewing area, a room long and tall and tinted blue with the water at the bottom of the tank. It gives way to land halfway up, is more than generous for the lone animal that dances through the water. 

“Isn’t she beautiful?” Namjoon asks. “She’s the one we’re working hardest with. Hawaiian monk seals are critically endangered, so when she was brought in as a pup, she took first priority. We’re doing everything we can to get her back up to breeding standards. She keeps getting sick, though, and no pregnancy has been viable so far.”

Seokjin doesn’t answer. He doesn’t even blink. He doesn’t know this seal, not really; she’s just a seal, she’s not like him, she’s not even the same species, but a human wouldn’t know that. Especially not a human like Namjoon, completely out of the loop on all of it. 

“She wants to be free.”

He can see it when Namjoon turns to look at him, confused. Watches the reflection in the glass as closely as he watches Maple’s mourning dance. 

“Her environment is larger than most,” Namjoon says. “She’s got plenty of room to swim and we’ve got activity sets throughout so she’s mentally stimulated as well. She eats, probably more than she should, and-”

“A cage is still a cage, no matter how pretty it is.” Seokjin can see it, can hear Maple’s call, can feel it in his very soul as the urge to respond grows. She spots them standing there and swims closer, and Seokjin places a hand on the glass wall. “She wants to be back in the ocean.”

“It’s dangerous for her there,” Namjoon says quietly. He says it like he knows, like he’s always known, what she needs, but doesn’t want to admit it. “There isn’t enough food, humanity keeps taking their territory...she’s sick. She wouldn’t survive out there.”

Better to die free than spend eternity in a cage, Seokjin thinks bitterly. He takes a breath and reminds himself that Namjoon cares. He’s helping, in the only way that he knows how. 

Maple spins when she spots Namjoon, clearly excited, but when her eyes land on Seokjin, she stills. 

“Ah, she’s not always friendly to strangers, so…” Namjoon trails off. His reflection shows his jaw slack, open in a surprised o , because he’s wrong, this time. 

Maple lets out a whistle - long, and low, and haunting in the stillness of the building. Her nose is nearly against the glass, she’s so close, and she looks straight into him. She sees him, recognizes him for what he is, and uses the call. 

Seokjin can feel the snap as his soul breaks; what little was left of him shatters, into pieces. He can’t return her call, he can’t tell her that he sees, that he knows what she’s feeling and will do what he can to help her, because he can’t . He can’t help her, he has no way to save her from her cage because he’s stuck in his own. 

She must see it, somehow, because her song trails off, and Seokjin hates himself. He hates himself for being here, for allowing himself to get close to Namjoon when he can’t, for not being able to even hear her song the way it deserves to be heard. 

“Hey,” Namjoon calls, soft and quiet. His thumb brushes hesitantly along Seokjin’s cheek, carrying a tear with it. “I’m sorry, I didn’t…”

“I’m fine,” Seokjin tells him. “I’ve got to be up early tomorrow, to do the shoots, so I’m gonna head home.” 

“Do you want me to go with you?”

He turns on his heel and walks out, ignoring Namjoon’s question entirely. He can’t lie right now, he does want Namjoon with him, but he can’t. It’s too dangerous, and seeing Maple just reminded him of it. 

He can’t let Namjoon get hurt just because he makes Seokjin feel marginally better. 

In his wake, Namjoon sighs. He turns to Maple, wishing he was up top in his wetsuit so he could run his fingers through her fur the way she likes. Her eyes are big and sad, more so than usual, and Namjoon thinks maybe he understands her for the first time. 

“I’ll try,” He tells her. “I’ll try.”

Weeks pass. Months fly by. Shoot after shoot after shoot gets published, and Giho rakes in the cash from them. Seokjin stays in his small apartment, watching the light reflect rainbows through the window pane. He stopped letting Namjoon walk him home when Giho got back, and nearly ripped part of Seokjin’s hair out with fury that he’d gone out. 

The only reason it wasn’t worse is because Seokjin managed to convince him that it was promo for the upcoming swimwear collection, and good press about the humanitarian efforts of the label. 

It doesn’t matter anyway, because Namjoon stopped showing up after a few days. Seokjin refuses to ask Taehyung why, because he shouldn’t care. He can’t care. Not with Giho hovering over his shoulder at every turn. 

One day, for some reason, things change. Giho gets less certain, more fidgety. Starts looking over his own shoulder. Stops threatening Seokjin with every glance. 

Stops glancing altogether. 

It just makes Seokjin worry more; if the one in charge is afraid of something, everyone else should be as well. That was the first lesson his mother taught him. 

Seokjin gathers his things. Packs them all back into his suitcase, keeps a single change of clothes out and starts washing them every day. Giho looks ready to run, and Seokjin knows by now that he needs to be ready when it happens if he wants to keep any of his things. 

Then Giho disappears. 

Giho disappears for a while . 

He doesn’t take Seokjin with him. He just disappears one night, when everything is quiet and still. The calendar is still booked with shoots, so Seokjin just keeps working. One night, he and Taehyung go out for Korean BBQ. The entire week after that, Seokjin expects Giho to pop up and berate him for doing anything that isn’t working, but it never comes. 

A few weeks later, they go on a day trip to a mountain and walk the trails together while Taehyung takes pictures. Neither of them mention Giho or Namjoon or anything except the way the leaves fall. 

Life goes on. For months, Seokjin begins tiptoeing across the line. He goes out more often. The time between shoots gets longer and longer, and Seokjin begins to enjoy things. He goes to see movies, and shopping, and eating, and travelling. He starts doing the things he wants to do. 

He sees Namjoon again. 

They get dinner together, whenever they’re both free. It starts with Taehyung inviting him for drinks, and turns into them meeting each other at the cafe on the corner that makes the good boba. They talk for what could be hours, or what could be minutes. Seokjin never knows, because everything else seems to stop when he’s with Namjoon. 

He says as much as he can, as much as he dares, but it never seems like it’s enough. Namjoon takes what Seokjin gives him, more than happy to be included again, but they both know that there’s a time limit on it. Still, Seokjin fools himself into thinking that it’s become an if , instead of being a when . 

He fools himself into thinking that this can be his life. 

It takes almost four months. It’s been nearly a year since Seokjin first met Namjoon - he refuses to acknowledge that he remembers the day. Giho returns in a whirlwind. 

He interrupts the shoot, throws the clothes around, breaks some mannequins, it’s all out war on the set, and they all watch silently. The only thing that keeps him from breaking Taehyung’s camera is the look on the younger’s face when Giho goes for it. 

But of course, nothing lasts forever. He spots Seokjin, sitting as still as a statue in the makeup chair, and that’s the beginning of the end. He recognizes the feral rage in God's eyes, has seen it barely contained too many times before, and he’s clearly not holding back this time. 

He has Seokjin on the ground, under his shoe, with a cane against his throat when the door opens. The others have tried to help, but Giho is surprisingly adept with a cane when he wants to be, and as such, no one has gotten close. But Seokjin can guess what time it is, he knows in his bones who just walked in, and he refuses to let this happen.

“You,” Giho hisses. The pressure on Seokjin’s throat disappears as Giho stands; the model coughs, several times, choking down air even as his hand darts out to wrap around his owner’s ankle. 

The elder crumples to the ground, kicking at Seokjin’s steel grip, but it’s useless, because Seokjin is tired. 

He is tired of being afraid of a bitter old man. He is tired of being without the sea. He is tired of not allowing himself to be happy. 

He’s on top of Giho before he even realizes he’s moved, prying the cane from his hands and holding it steady over Giho’s windpipe. He doesn’t press down, not yet; just holds it there, like the threat it is.

“You will not hurt him,” Seokjin commands. “And you will run, as far as you can get. You will run to the ends of the earth, and then, God willing, you will run further. You will leave your wealth and your fame and everything I have made for you, and if you dare to show your face among humanity again…”

“What?” Giho spits, a smirk growing on his face. “What is a defenseless little pup like you going to do?”

Seokjin leans down, letting the cane choke the man below him as he drops his voice. “I will find my brethren, and I will tell them what you have done. They will spread your story far and wide, across every ocean, over every continent, and when they find you, they will remind you why we are considered predators.”

He sits back, letting the cane go and allowing air back into his lungs. He stands on his own two feet, the legs that have carried him for so long, and he looks around. 

“This shoot is over,” Seokjin says. “Everyone get out.” 

The people scramble, even Taehyung gathers his things to leave, and the room is empty in seconds. Only he and Giho remain. 

The elder lies on the floor, still catching his breath, as Seokjin tosses the cane across the room. He looks around, spots an old iron trash can from a shoot last month, and starts toward it. 

“It won’t do you any good,” Giho says. Seokjin ignores him and hefts the can up, carrying it across the room. “You won’t get anywhere. You can’t just disappear, not when the world knows your face.”

“Maybe so,” Seokjin says as he positions himself. “But at least I’ll have the choice.”

He brings the iron can down with all his strength. There’s a colossal crash as it connects with the old padlock, and it only gets louder with the next one. It takes seven hits for the lock to break, and the sound of it clattering to the floor isn’t one he’s likely to forget.

When he opens the trunk, however, it’s empty. 

“I told you,” Giho hisses triumphantly. “It won’t do any good.” 

Seokjin resists the urge to curse under his breath and forces himself not to sob as he looks back at Giho. 

“Then it won’t do you any good either.”

The sand is warm beneath his feet. The setting sun paints the sky a myriad of colors, orange turning into red bleeding into purple shifting into blue curling into black, all of it reflected in the cool water below. The tang of salt wafts in with every breath he takes, and just confirms that this is right. 

“Thanks for meeting me,” Namjoon says from behind him. Seokjin didn’t hear him approach, but he didn’t need to. He knows Namjoon won’t hurt him. 

“Thanks for calling,” Seokjin responds. He feels the tide tickle his toes, and he knows that this is best. “I actually wanted to tell you something.”

“I think I should go first,” Namjoon’s voice is firm, but hesitant. Like he doesn’t want to say what he’s saying. Seokjin turns, frowning slightly when he sees the other. Namjoon looks troubled, looks like he would rather be anywhere else, and that doesn’t bode well for Seokjin. 

Still, he gestures for Namjoon to continue.

“Tae pointed it out,” Namjoon eventually says. “He mentioned how you looked at it, and thought maybe...maybe it had passports or something inside, something you could use to get away. So when he left, and we thought he might not come back...I opened it.”

A weight settles in Seokjin’s throat. 

“Opened what?”

“The trunk,” Namjoon says. “I broke in and I picked the lock and...I didn’t know it was...I didn’t think he had it….” He sighs and pulls his hands from behind his back, and there it is. 

Seokjin’s coat. 

It’s silky and smooth and soft and perfect and exactly as he remembers it. It’s bigger now, grown with him, and the sight of it in the light is enough to bring tears to his eyes. 

“He had some kind of alert on the trunk,” Namjoon continues, “So when I opened it he knew. That’s why he came back. I didn’t know he would come back.”

“Namjoon…” Seokjin looks at him, eyes wide and tear-filled, and for the first time since they met, Seokjin is scared. His life is here, right in front of him, but he doesn’t know if he can have it. 

Because now Namjoon knows. He knows what Seokjin is, he’s fully aware that Seokjin can’t leave without the coat in Namjoon’s hands. He could keep him forever, just as Giho intended to do. 

“I didn’t know,” Namjoon says again. “Or I wouldn’t have taken you to the aquarium. I wouldn’t have done that to you, I wouldn’t have hurt you like that, and I am... so sorry, Seokjin. I’m so sorry that I did that to you, I-”

“Namjoon, you didn’t know-”

“But now I do.” Namjoon sniffles slightly, and his hands shake, but he extends them, holding the coat out to Seokjin. “And I’m sorry.”

Seokjin’s fingers curl in the fur, almost reverently, as he takes it. It’s still warm, and it feels like water in his hands, and it’s everything he’s missed in his life. 

“Namjoon, I…” He trails off, because there’s nothing he could say. No words fit this gift, this release; there’s nothing he could say that would properly convey the emotions building in Seokjin’s chest. 

“I know,” Namjoon says. “You’re not in a cage anymore. You’re free to go and do what you want to do.”

Seokjin strips his sweater off and wraps his sealskin around his shoulders. It’s the perfect size for him, exactly what he needs, and when he crashes waist-deep into the surf, it keeps him warm. 

He turns, though. Namjoon stands on the shore, just out of reach of the tide, and watches him. There’s a smile on his face, small and sad, and Seokjin wants nothing more than to wipe it from his lips, but he can’t. 

Because he’s free. 

He turns, wrapping the skin tighter around his shoulder. When he gets under the water, he can feel it in his hair and he can feel the water against his tail and he’s almost home. 

But something is missing. 

There’s warmth and weightlessness and the setting sun painting the water a rainbow , but the buzz in Seokjin’s chest isn’t full. There’s something not right, something not quite perfect about this moment that he’s been dreaming of for years, and he can’t figure out what. 

Namjoon stares at the horizon, wondering how far Seokjin has already gone. He sends up a small wish, a hope, that Seokjin can live his life, free and happy and himself. That he can find his family, see his pod again. 

His heartbeat turns painful, something constricting his chest and making it difficult to breathe, so he turns away. The crash of the waves covers the sound of his shaky breath, because of course, of course , he would find love in a man that couldn’t stay. 

Fingers tangle in his own and Namjoon turns, shocked, to see a wet Seokjin, hair damp with his sealskin around his waist. 

“W-What-”

“I can’t,” Seokjin says softly. “I can’t go back, I can’t find them, I don’t know how to do that without…”

He trails off and Namjoon stares because this is it, he thinks. This is everything he’s been waiting for his entire life, here, right in front of him. He just has to let himself have it. 

Seokjin’s hand pulls away from his and Namjoon mourns the loss for the brief moment it takes for the selkie to pull his sealskin off and place it carefully in Namjoon’s arms. 

“Namjoon,” He says, voice hushed and serious, “I want you to...because I…” 

He’s never Seokjin this unsure, this at a loss, and the way he keeps starting sentences that have no end is undeniably endearing. But he can feel Seokjin’s growing frustration at his inability to articulate his thoughts, so he just smiles. 

“I know,” Namjoon says. He takes the coat and places it back in Seokjin’s hands, covering them with his own. The heat from their skin combines and warms Namjoon straight to the core. “And I love you too.”

[skyystars]

oc info about all my ethermourne stuff below the cut, if anyones interested! it is. a lot. 

edit: after writing this what the fuck thats so much- if you have any questions about them please dont hesitate to ask but i would not blame you if you took one look at this post and ran HSJDFH there’s like 35 listed and thats still not all of them. zoinks

ethermourne is your typical dnd esque world. theres two kinds of people in the world, commonfolk and enchanted, and enchanted are people that can use various forms of magic. in the current story, a secret underground rebellion is going on against the kingdom, in order to free enchanted and bring justice to the world. theres a million and one characters here so bear w me. all characters belonging to my friends are marked with a *

on the black rock pirate ship,

captain shining - a fierce and protective leader. human. she’d do anything for her crew. commonfolk. damn near unstoppable with a sword. lifelong partner to orion ethermourne

johnathan bramwell - the first mate. human. quiet and reserved but goofy when he opens up. storm mage. lover of the sky- hates being in crowded areas on land. intelligent, loves to read and write letters. eventual boyfriend to nordwood thatch

aspen* (no lastname i dont think?) - boatswain. human. somber and stoic, a bit detached. big on family. half blind. ice mage. acts as a father figure to delphi

calvin - carpenter. old soul. human. does a lot of the heavy lifting for the ship. excellent storyteller. fire mage. usually brings some sort of wisdom or moral to someone on the ship.

nellie - cooper. human. misses her family, but has a heart of gold for the ship. scottish- often times hard to understand. ability to turn invisible. has a crush on tobi

galen* - doctor. timid and polite. wants to help people, will sacrifice his own health and safety to look after someone else. human(?). necromancer. arrived on the ship with enmea and quickly became like a brother to kaido

delphi - gunner. a young girl, easily excitable and a bit of a romantic. human. looks out for the people her age on the ship, acts sisterly to them. able to read a few moments into the future. 

kaido - navigator. young, free spirited, reckless. human. flight and telekinesis. eager to fight or find adventure. causes trouble. protects enmea like a younger sister, and is looked after by galen, who he eventually accepts as an older brother.

enmea* - powder monkey. goblin, steals and bargains with the crew for fun but never means any real harm. witty and sarcastic. illusion and misdirection magic. especially loves to bother bramwell and nordwood with her antics. 

faine* - cook. satyr. loves to be the life of a party. has lived many years and mostly achieved peace but like, loves to dick around. plantaemancer. has a big crush on aspen. 

nordwood percival thatch* - bard. half sun elf. cocky, expensive tastes, confidence, and flirty. magic can summon figures of light/magic to do his bidding/can impact emotions of people in vicinity. hopelessly in love with bramwell.

-

on land,

artemis ethermourne - the king of the empire. sun elf. main antagonist. commonfolk. younger brother of orion and husband to rietta

orion ethermourne - original leader of the rebellion. sun elf. warlock (jack of all trades), considered one of the most powerful of his time. was publicly executed by his brother when caught. left apprentice muriel in charge. partner of shining.

muriel becker* (murr) - aasimar enchanted. missing his halo due to an incident he doesnt mention. wants to become skilled in magic and art. raven symbolism- along with having his own companion raven, keeha. very tired and stressed. secretly dating amaris.

amaris hayles* (mars) - hunter/scout, commonfolk. drow/moon elf. dry humor, but a lot goes over his head. responsible and caring, looks out for much of the rebellion. doesnt talk much. dating muriel.

chevel troubleice - inventor, commonfolk. human. low self esteem but he’s Trying. interested in alchemy and learns more about magic through his teacher, murr.

evercon archer - enchanted rebel scout. wood elf. air magic. considers himself a loner. nomadic, feigns a know-it-all attitude. doesnt like cities. under technical responsibility of amaris. eventually falls for woodrow.

tuka archer - enchanted rebel worker. wood elf. fire mage. responsible for helping safe travel for other through the woods. fur trader. big social personality, loves people and doesnt care too much what anyone thinks of him. brother to evercon and eventual lover to phinehas.

phinehas* - aasimar. i assume hes enchanted but now im actually not... sure....???? omg. anyway he’s soft, kindhearted and a poet. loves to write and is into theater. level headed for the most part. in love with tuka, ex of murr but on good terms!! theyre still friends

woodrow jace andes* - enchanted tiefling bard. extremely sad but makes jokes to cope. sad jokes. the kind that make everyone else uncomfortable. necromancer. lives in a fucking dragon skeleton which is kind of badass. is embarrassingly soft for evercon.

vaughn hayles* - moon elf. idk if he’s enchanted or nah. protector, guardian, soft spoken. looks after a village, family means a lot to him (despite being unmarried). amaris’ dad.

elena bramwell - human, commonfolk, deceased. was small and determined. bram remembers her fondly, and recalls that she enjoyed music and dance, as well as having a talent for making flowercrowns and storytelling. bramwell’s mother. 

tobi* - tavernkeep. commonfolk. he is liddol and irish and knows how to play the banjo. has a massive crush on nellie. i love him dearly

-

on the sundancer pirate ship,

captain sylvan skybridge - enchanted human. light magic. is very tired but patient with his crew. false confidence has kept him going for almost a decade and hes not stopping now. only slightly concerned about... everyone on his ship

paige* - first mate. commonfolk witch, able to just barely cast spells and enchant objects. jack-of-all-trades, cunning, and incredibly clever at problem solving. mothers the crew if anyones in need. has a crush on michael.

michael grey* - doctor. commonfolk? enchanted? we just don’t know. a little disillusioned with reality. can see ghosts and has a small gang that follows him everywhere. sylvan and paige are the only crew members hes vaguely familiar with. has a crush on paige. **note: michael has 4 ghosts that follow him but im not listing them here just yet hh

ashton everett* - gunner. commonfolk human. fearless, exhausted of the shenanigans, genuinely just looking for a hot siren girlfriend and dismantling the monarchy. 

oscar* - boatswain. chaotic, will start a fight- but hes pretty terrible at getting himself out of trouble. needs tucked in at night. inseparable from lew.

lew* - boatswain. calm, collected, used to oscar’s antics. helps take care of the ship, has a turtle. 

rhubarb* - cook. human enchanted. plant powers. just trying to get along with everybody. don’t insult his cooking he’s trying his hardest. probably the oldest on the ship.

waverly* - enchanted human. like a bird selkie, can turn into a raven. spends a lot of her time this way. escaped from a traveling circus and joined the crew to help free others like her. 

cloud* - siren. tried to bring down the sundancers crew to prove herself, failed miserably and ended up liking them all. flirts relentlessly but is god awful at it. 

-

additional notes:

-some of them exist in a modern au, mainly involving bram/nord/mars/murr as a ghost hunting gang who always finds themselves in the wrong place at the wrong time. bram and mars form a brotherly bond over time. in modern au elena is discovered to be alive. vaughn winds up falling in love with her (it is very cute).

-i often draw sylvan and captain ryan of the silent requiem. this pirate ship belongs to my friend sept and is placed in her own world, so none of that crew is mine ;w; most of their shenanigans are in a crossover state where a very sylvan begs ryan to teach him what to do as a captain, and ryan looks after him like a son (though he’d fucken deny it). young syl is far too curious for his own good and gets into trouble a lot. sorry dad

creds: galen, aspen, enmea, faine, nord, murr, mars, tobi, phinehas, woodrow, vaughn, and paige are all characters that belong to my friend bee. michael grey belongs to my friend jake. ashton belongs to my friend rueben.  oscar and lew belong to my friend kenzie. rhubarb belongs to my friend pasta. waverly belongs to my friend cal. cloud belongs to my friend sara. 

[tulipscomeinallsortsofcolors]

Lol I was thinking about asking about half-fae in your universe and then we were introduced to Linda and she's just great and the idea of her coming home gnawing on a mouse and her dads just going no! makes me so giddy. You write well and it was really easy to get into LAOFT, and it actually made me look into other polysanders based works! Back on topic, with your universe and all that, what kind of lifespans do fae have/would a half-fae have/could half-fae exist? Hope you are having a good day

in traditional folklore, fae (of all genders) take mortal consorts all the time, and these unions often result in children. sometimes the children seem and age completely mortal but with some small strange gifts or traits, and sometimes the children are fae. they are very rarely actually half one, half the other

(and another strange point - this actually seems to have more to do with where the children are raised than any sort of genetics. Children raised with fae/in faerieland are almost always pure fae - children raised with mortals are almost always mortal, regardless of the configuration of their parents

see selkies. in the vast majority of selkie myths, when the mother finds her coat she leaves, and her children, completely mortal - though usually especially beautiful - are left behind.)

so, with that as the base, im gonna go with yes on ‘can fae and humans have children’ but a no on true half-fae. Just like how the witches all eventually grow into their powers (theyre not immune to fire until they get their familiars, for one) and child of fae and human parents would eventually grow one way or the other.

how exactly it gets determined i think would depend on individual circumstances/temperament, but its probably a safe but to stick with the traditional line of which parent actually raised you having a pretty big influence on the subject

Linda, being mostly fae (specifically mostly Virgil by a wide margin) definitely won’t show many mortal traits, if any. 

[rakuraiwielder]

I'm working on your ask, but here's some for you: I, A, M, S, P, O, T

Ask prompt here: x

thanks puffin!! this is gonna be long and nostalgic eyy

I - HasTumblr caused you to stop liking any fandoms, if so, which and why? 

I wouldn’t say “actively dislike” butthe toxicity of fandom on this website has sucked away most of my passion for Voltron lol. I used to really dig itthe first month or so after getting really into it when S2 aired. I still havean unfinished draft for a 7-parter rarepair fic //ey guess my fav duo ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)// sitting in my folders. don’t think I’llbe touching it any time soon though. im rather burnt out from this fandom, evenif I do still enjoy watching all the new seasons thereafter.

another is StevenUniverse ah a. (but in its and my defence, I wasn’t really into it anywaysas compared to other fandoms. the songs are still good, but I haven’t beenkeeping up with the newer Steven bombs, one part because of motivation, andanother because the thought of going into the tags to reblog contentintimidates the heck out of me pffft)

A - Ships that youcurrently like a lot. (They don’t have to be OTPs because not everyone hasOTPs.) Friendships, pairings, threesomes, etc. are allowed.

(puffin this question is gonnatake up half the ask oh god)oh bOY where do I start hahahaha. there’s so many aph and fe callbacks hahaha few otps aside I really have too manycrackpairs and platonic friendship ride-or-die squads I would die for. theseare only a few really relevant ones from the top of my head-

OTPS:

Norway/Vietnam (Hetalia) – alWAYS. i dont talk about and reblog much aph anymore but i still think about these two frequently. they were my first and closestthing ever to an actual otp in all my years of knowing what an otp was gosh Ihope to write about them again soon. their dynamics are the peak of mypreferences.

MU(avatar unit)/Silas (FE Fates) – thechildhood friends + loyal knight and liege trope + a pinch of memory loss wasnever really my thing, but guess there’s a first for everything ha h a ah a….silas is too pure for the angst I put him through im so sorry ಸ ل͜ ಸ

Berkut/Rinea (FE: SOV) – the second that one cutscene of these two played I got1000% more invested in the story pffft. anyways rinea may be top tier fav andberkut shit tier fav, and their story tragic as heck (and I would also arguethat he doesn’t deserve her), but their genuine and honest love for each otheramidst the incoming death flags gets me every time

707/MC (Mystic messenger) – honestly they can either be a really good platonicdynamic duo or a solid otp. purely from the perspective of my own MC, theycomplement each other well; perfect balance of light-hearted teasing and asolid wall of comfort for each other.

Ray-Saeran/MC (Mystic messenger) – ヽ༼ຈل͜ຈ༽ﾉ

(Other) Ships:

Seychelles/Iceland/HK (Hetalia) – they are good togetherromantically or platonically hahahaha. a good golden trio of kids

Russia/Vietnam (Hetalia) – their potential relationship and clashof character due to conflicting personalities fascinate me. a totally differentnoir vibe from norviet and one I hope to explore if I ever come back to aph

Nyx/Leo (FE Fates) – nyx ships are reallyrare but half of them are surprisingly sweet and poignant. Odin and Laslow tooare really sweet candidates to woo this jaded grandma’s heart.

MU/Laslow (FE Fates) – got to thank a wacky7-11 employee au dream I had for this one. but in the games their supportconversations are surprisingly thoughtful and low-key flirting which was notwhat I expected at all. wholesome.

Ham/Kai (MUxMU, FE) – remember when I said protag/protagships are the good stuff? yea h thatprincess tutu au is coming along swell

Alm/Celica (FE: SOV) – the rare main canon couple I love whodon’t die and get their happy ending (LOL this sounds really pathetic now thatI’ve said it)

Leon/Valbar (FE: SOV) – no one is surprised LOL. romantic orno, as long as leon is happy with where he stands with valbar and valbar ishappy with where he is im happy for them both

Conrad/Rinea (FE: SOV) – I know there are a couple of youreading this whos gonna give me that look but liste n; they could have met, and there is potential for them.(honestly this is just like another norviet situation where I put my 2 topfaves together for crackpair experimentation bUT IT WORKS I ASSURE YOU)

Zen/MC (Mystic messenger) – zen is so earnest that I can’t refute himhahaha. he also has a special seat in my mysme heart, since he was the firstroute I played and made me create content for the fandom proper

707/Jaehee (Mystic messenger) – they are rapidly gaining OTP status ꉂ (´∀｀)ʱªʱªʱª aaaa nightmare flashbacks because justlike norviet they really are the rarest of crackpairs and have almost to no content(gonna get down to business and churn fic out one day). these two are moresimilar than they’d think too.

Cecil/Haruka (Utapri) – ahahaha a good ship from a guiltypleasure fandom

(Purely) Platonic:

Izuku/Iida/Ochako (BNHA) – the first golden trio of thisseries. I love them so much.

Vanderwood/MC (Mystic messenger) – they parallel each other. truly thebiggest ride-or-die duo I will support to the end of time

Zen/Yoosung (Mystic messenger) – zen is such a mother hen to yoosungwwwww truly wholesome

Chise/Ruth (Ancient Magus Bride) – platonic master/familiar-partner relationships where both of them care for each other so much to the point where they would die for the other are my one weakness. its the reason i love writing more fleshed-out pokemon aus and loyal dogs/animals in longer fics. anyways these two are good

M - Name acharacter that you’d like to have for a friend.

707. It would be a trip justknowing him. (apart from the memes. but my life is already 80% meme, honestlywhats the difference ahahaha aaa-) Just, I feel like it would be really fun tohang out with him and revel in his wackiness (even if that personality is afront, maybe one day when i finally get into his inner-circle of friends, I hopeto be privy and be a good listening ear to his truer, more sombre personality.)

On the other hand, myself-confidence and 2nd hand embarrassment will be directlyproportional to each other (And im 100% sure Seven is the kind of person whowill exploit that hAH)

S - Show us anexample of your personal headcanon (prompts optional but encouraged)

Every relevant character inMysmes is either a type of asexual (greysexual etc.), or on various points ofthe bi-spectrum. Yeah; even self-proclaimed, “straight-laced” Zen lol.

P - Invent a random AU for any fandom (wealways need more ideas)

Vampire/Selkie AU ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

a selkie whose skin gets stolen and hidden from a human man is forced to become his bride and taken back to his village. there, to escape the stares of bigoted villagers and the clutches of her overbearing and possessive husband, she takes refuge in the only place he would not go; the old holy church.

only, she finds she isn’t the first to occupy this place of solitude. the master of the church notices her soon enough, and when vampire recognises the ancient weave of magic that flows within her, he appears; intrigued for something other than a fresh meal.

(basically a deviation from the standard vampire (romance-ish) novels lolol plot bunny hit me pre-Christmas eve dinner/yesterday and sofar im digging it. still planning the ship and fandom though; it might very easily be OC-based)

O - Choose a songat random. Which ship or character does it remind you of?

since 1 is never enough, hereare 4 songs I was listening to recently:

Little Knights, Nem feat.Noire : Zen/MC(a zen-ish song through and through)

over and over, Yanagi Nagi : Saeran Choi + 707&MC(more saeran-centric with interpretative lyrics and referencing to both ray andunknown personas)

Finding something to do, HelloGoodbye : 707/Jaehee(fits their “don’t go where I can’t follow” dynamic haha ow.)

Life will Change, Shoji Meguro + Benjamin Franklin feat. Lyn Inaizumi : Kai(mui) or Ham(let)(honestly the entire persona 5 ost is massive fe fates protag feels)

T - Do you have any hard and fast headcanons thatyou will die defending?

Not really. I’m a very flexible person when it comes tointerpretable lore and content, especially if it’s the type of HCs that thefandom collectively comes up with. Unless it’s a canon fact, I like to dabble orjust stay away from HCs in general. If I have to come up with some in my fics,then so be it. But most of the time these HCs are either super vague or onlyapply to the context in this particular piece or series of writing. Basically Idon’t mind switching HCs for charas frequently as long as it does notfundamentally change their own character. (HCs for hobbies and loves and habitsand relationships apart from their inner circle, etc. are all fine)

Honestly it just boils down to expectations lol I know myown limits, and I know not to be disappointed when canon updates end updebunking (popular) fandom HCs or my own.

[shesarealphony]

Please tell me about your OCs!!!

omg i didnt think anyone would actually ask D: bless u

ok there are a lot so im gonna limit myself to just a few but in that collage i posted the middle pic is a way-too-happy pic of my face claim for V, my angsty genderqueer selkie who just wants to play video games and watch adventure time and keeps being forced into Quests they literally want no part of bc their best friend has harry-potter-level ChosenOneDisorder lkghsdg

bottom right is Da’ud (did i make a character solely to face claim him as the actor who played david in druck and then basically name the character david? mayhaps!), he’s a changeling who’s very good at making friends for the sake of getting information out of them-- he wears a leather jacket and smokes a lot and doesn’t talk much but tbh he’s a big softie and his best friend is a high-key extroverted being of light and joy (top left corner! she is also a fairy, but not a changeling)

bottom left is annie. she has mommy issues to the max but she loves her grandma more than anyone in the world. she’s a witch and her mom’s familiar follows her around but she hasn’t met her own familiar yet and she wants to right now immediately!!! she also loves to bake and listen to old-time-y radio murder mysteries (the ones that aren’t racist, that is)

ty for asking ily!!!!!! 

[alerraia]

klance

who’s the werewolf and who’s the hunteruuhhh you know whAT. Lance as the werewolf and Keith as the hunter trying to hide the fact that he is also a werewolf by taking jobs and coming back like ‘look how much blood im covered, and it’s all for the safety of that town’ when in reality he rarely actually kills a wolf. 

who’s the mermaid and who’s the fishermanlisten. listen. lance is definitely the merman im sorry, it’s unoriginal but listen. on the other hand... selkie keith....

who’s the witch and who’s the familiarI kinda want keith as the witch and lance as the familiar and they annoy the shit out of each other because they cant agree on what the correct way to do things is but somehow they only occasionally blow something up.

who’s the barista and who’s the coffee addictcoffee addict keith I’m calling it right now

who’s the professor and who’s the TAcan they both be professors. wait, they’re both professors and they both TA for each other, and it sounds like they have some issues but after a couple weeks of seeing them both you know it’s just a bunch of running jokes because every time you go into lecture with one and they explain something one way, when you go see the TA they explain it another way like ‘i know he said this but listen... this is better.’ they’re both trying to explain each other’s materials better and it just gives the students more angles to look at things from it’s a win/win

who’s the knight and who’s the prince(ss)i really ?? like those altean lance/galra keith aus so i’m kinda partial to prince lance and knight keith?? the rivalry is still Real though because they are constantly trying to prove whose skills are better, the prince with the best training or the knight who claims to use his skills more.

who’s the teacher and who’s the single parentuuhhhm. shit. I think Lance as the teacher and Keith as the single parent honestly. 

who’s the writer and who’s the editorwait listen listen, they’re both fic writers who beta for each other and are always trying to perfect their characterizations and all, they’re fandom favourites because their writing has improved so much as a result. they have word wars all the time. and at first it was kind of like some kind of actual salty rivalry but now they have fun with it and after all the sparring in the notes is done they’re always sending messages like ‘real talk that chapter was rad keep it up’

[sexysilverstrider]

Failed Revelation angst is torture but it wont leave me... So here is some I'd like to share and get your opinion of, 1 Soleil actually learned how to dance and somewhat sing properly (her vocal range not as wide or fitting as her parents or brother) because she wanted to sing and dance a funeral piece of Valla for her parents and family friends with shigure when they died. 2 Selkie carries her mothers white bow around some part of her body 3 Asugi carries a pressed flower of his mother on him

anon i like you. i like how you think :3c

1) BONUS sometimes soleil and shigure perform a duet to their parents graves. shigure will sing and soleil will attempt to dance some simple dances his parents taught her.

2) selkie wears nishikis scarf but also wears charlottes white bow on her head. its not as white as it used to be but selkie tried her best to keep it clean.

3) PRESSED FLOWERS…….A GIFT FROM MOZU….A FLOWER SAIZOU GAVE TO MOZU AND ASUGI KEPT IT AS REMINDER….

4) velouria holds a broken sheath near and dear since its very precious to hana. she also has her wedding ring that was given from flannel. the wedding ring has blood. hanas blood.

5) HISAME. HAS. THE BIG RED BOW HINATA GAVE TO PIERI. hes now shameless to wear it around his katana since the death of his parents. now the sight of the bow only gave him strength to move on. he even perfects his cooking because pieri once told him that ‘if you do somethng youre passionate at, then that means im always close to you even when im dead!’ hisame even trains a lot as comfort of his fathers soul living on in him.

6) DWYER…despite looking apathetic he actually keeps an amulet of his mothers….and in silence he actually rarely uses his fire magic coz in doing so will remind him of rinkah and the whole tribe. he lost his tribe right in front of his eyes. hes the only survivor. he couldnt bear that memory again. this goes for tea too. the reason dwyer started brewing coffee is because making tea will remind him of his father and. if by any chance. dwyer managed to brew tea exactly like jokers. the familiar taste will only be utterly unbearable for him.

[kristie-rp]

[2018] Garrett: Turning

It is a truth universally acknowledged that anyone acting particularly weird in the hospital must be in want of Doctor Vincent Constantine. 

Okay, no, that’s not true, exactly. It’s more a truth acknowledged only within the hospital itself, and weirdness is relative, and they don’t always know they need Constantine’s expertise. That’s just how it gets explained to Garrett when he starts his placement during med school, by a curly haired woman speaking behind her hand in a stage whisper. Doctor Constantine himself snorts and shoots her an unimpressed look, and does a double take when he sees Garrett. There’s something vaguely familiar in it, and the intern smiles politely. “Hi, Doctor Constantine.” 

“Call me Vincent,” comes the reply. “She’s right, in a manner of speaking. If something seems particularly... peculiar, then I am the resident expert. Feel free to come to me.”

Garrett doesn’t think much about it, afterwards. The thing is, he doesn’t work in Vincent’s department, at least not at first. The older man operates largely out of the basement, where a morgue would be in any other hospital: it has been turned into a ward, and the windows of half the rooms are blacked out with heavy tarps. It’s eerie. When Garrett brings his toddler daughter April to work some days, when she is too young to be home alone and not able to be at daycare, she tends to spend time with the old man. He doesn’t get it, but he allows it. 

He’s been a fully qualified medical practitioner employed by the hospital for eight months before he thinks about the description of Vincent’s specialisation. A couple have brought in their terrified daughter, who is incredibly pretty for a human child and also very quick-witted and persuasive. She has talked the nurse out of at least three lollipops before Garrett arrives in the room to introduce himself and shoo the nurse away. 

“Do you really need so many,” her mother is asking a little helplessly, taking the third one from her daughter. The little girl shrugs, and asks her dad to get her some water, please, from the vending machine. Because her mother is the one with money, she goes, too. The little girl is alone with Garrett. 

“They think I’m sick,” she informs him flatly, pouting slightly. “I don’t think they’re wrong. I mean. I know I’m not like the other girls. And there are these.” She tugs at her beanie and it lifts away to reveal small horns on her forehead. She is very careful not to rip the wool. “My mom’s worried.”

“Cutaneous horns aren’t unheard of,” Garrett tries. He doubts it’s that simple; the very sentence sits wrong on his tongue. Plus, every instance of cutaneous horns he’s heard of presented in the elderly. 

The little girl, apparently, is aware of this. “I know how to Google,” she says dismissively, “and I know only old people have that happen. So why is this happening to me now?” 

Garrett hesitates. He can order tests – of course he can. But something gives him pause. The mother and father return, and Garrett makes up his mind: he leans out of the door to catch a nurse as she passes by. “Hi, sorry – can you run down to the basement and find Doctor Constantine, please? I need a consult.” 

The nurse looks at him curiously, but returns in fifteen minutes with Vincent himself. He looks between the couple. “Are you her father?” 

The man shakes his head. “We adopted her a few years ago,” he explains. The little girl doesn’t seem bothered by this, and her mother has rested a hand on her little girls shoulder. “We have the record of her biological parents medical information –” 

The mother starts to search in her bag for the papers. Vincent stops her with a wave of her hand. “No matter, they won’t be accurate.” 

The parents make outraged sounds, and the little girl blinks at him. “You know what’s wrong with me?” she asks. Her voice is much smaller than it was earlier, alone with Garrett. He can’t blame her, really; Vincent has that effect on people. 

“Have any of you heard of a Cambion?” is what Vincent asks, completely without preamble. Garrett starts, because he’s heard of those, in fascinated Wikipedia spirals that almost always end with him looking up different takes on mythological beings – and this doctor, whom he respects, is talking as though the creature is real. “It is the result of a sexual union between an Incubus and a human woman. I’d bet the mother listed her boyfriends information before giving her up, knowing exactly what she was getting into.” He pauses, addressing the girl directly. “The horns may be surgically removed once they are fully grown, but that won’t happen until you’ve completed puberty. You likely had almost no pulse until you were seven, and you’ve likely noticed you barely need to breathe. You’re clever and beautiful, more than human girls, and you’re persuasive. Many would call you manipulative. Does this sound right?” The little girl is staring at him, somewhere between dumbfounded and fascinated. Garrett can see in her face that this explains everything. “You have the potential to be evil, but with good parents – nurture over nature, all that – it can be subverted or at least limited. Any questions?” 

If there are, Garrett doesn’t hear them, watching the girls face instead. He can’t see Vincent’s, but that girl is looking at him like he told her the meaning of life, and has no longer left her confused and wanting, unsure what she is. 

Garrett doesn’t know if he entirely believes the story, but he’s half-way there. It helps that the little girl pauses to give him a hug and to thank him on the way out, beanie back in place.

Garrett’s co-workers think that his fascination with Vincent’s so-called department – which exists primarily due to the Constantine’s donating more money to the hospital than the accounting department is willing to disclose – is ridiculous and confusing. They think Vincent is insane, or delusional, or at least eccentric, for all they respect him as their fellow doctor. But every single one of them is willing to call the older man for a consult when the situation calls for it, which is really all Garrett can hope for, so he mostly ignores the opportunities to mock them.

(Mostly, because sometimes he cannot bite his tongue fast enough to ensure he is less sarcastic in the workplace than he is at home, with April, who by now is a teenager who really ought to have a more sincere parental figure to turn to.) 

Anyway: it is not uncommon for Garrett to visit Vincent’s basement, either to ask pointed questions or chat with patients kept so separate from the others. He does this more predictably on the nights when April is not supposed to be coming home, and tonight she is staying at a friends place while they work on a project for class. He does not have to be home in time for dinner, so he meanders down to where he can visit at his own pace. 

There is a woman with albinism in one room. She greets him warmly, as she had the last time he’d been here, by putting on a terrible Transylvanian accent and calling herself a vampire. Garrett quirks a brow at her, thinking something along the lines of you wouldn’t be quite that pale if you dined on blood, Zoe. She laughs aloud. “Alright, fair enough, I’ll let you have that one. Stop by on your way out, Doc,” she insists, and he can almost feel the idea settling in his mind, ensuring he will do as asked later. 

“Is your tail ever going to heal?” Garrett asks the man in the next room, curious.

The merman with his blue-tinted skin snorts, his teeth growing in jagged rows; according to what he’s told them, he is a hybrid of some sharks that wouldn’t ever frequent the bay around Port Lyndon. “I’m not the doctor,” he says, splashing impatiently. He is caught halfway between human and mer form, and the pain shows in how pale around the gills he is. “Ask Vince.” 

“Yeah, sure, I’ll get right on that. Straight after my stopover at H.L. to let them know what I am,” Garrett retorts, earning a laugh from the mer as he splashes contentedly. 

He stops at the door of the selkie to smile and let her know that he’s passing through, because he knows she’s mostly here because of the debilitating anxiety that came from losing her pelt – only she hasn’t felt compelled to actually go to anyone, so it isn’t stolen, just legitimately lost. There’d be more chance of finding it if it was stolen, from what Garrett understands – it is hard to get her to talk, because Vincent is the expert, and he’s not exactly personable. 

The next room was home to a slightly burned dryad the last time he was here, but his bark was basically finished moulting, which means he should be gone, and the room should be empty. Garrett opens the door to check, eyes widening when he instead gets an eyeful of a wolf-like being – it’s a fully transformed werewolf, he knows that – and yet his immediate panicked reaction is to step closer and slam the door closed.

Yeah, his self-preservation instincts have always been terrible, he is aware. He does things like drink hot sauce on a dare (college) and break into his parents liquor cabinet (high school) and grab the arms of angry looking people on crutches to prevent them from walking into traffic (summer between high school and college, and actually he’s proud of that one). He has a feeling he’d step in front of a gunman to save someone, even a stranger.

That might explain locking himself in with an angry looking werewolf. One that’s currently edging closer. 

“Crap,” he croaks, panic making his voice crack, and presses himself against the door. 

He blacks out. 

It’s probably for the best.

“I have to hand it to you, Garrett,” a familiar voice is saying when he comes to, blinking at a white tile ceiling, “if you were going to be infected by a supernatural condition, this is probably the best possible place you could’ve done it.” 

“That’s nice,” Garrett says. He thinks he sounds about as sarcastic as usual, but he might be a little dazed. It’s something to do with the fact that he can make out the little specks across the surface of the tiles, which is weird, because he should be wearing glasses, and he can’t feel them on his face. “I think my veins are on fire.” 

“That’d be the wolfsbane,” the voice answers, apparently unbothered. It’s Vincent. Garrett is not surprised. 

Garrett closes his eyes. “You’re suppressing a transformation, aren’t you. Isn’t that a bad idea?” 

“Which one of us is the expert?” 

Garrett scoffs. “Which one of us is a werewolf?” 

There’s a long silence that makes Garrett want to open his eyes, but it’s bad enough that he can hear a heartbeat that he’s pretty sure isn’t close enough to be Vincent. Which means his co-worker doesn’t have a heartbeat. Which – he had to pass a medical to get this job; how did Vincent get the job with no heartbeat, without causing some sort of crisis? He keeps his eyes firmly shut, thanks ever so much. “Touché,” Vincent says at last, and Garrett can hear the amusement in his voice. 

“How long was I out?” 

“A couple of hours. Your phone rang; it was your daughter. She’ll be here soon.” 

“Sure, that’s a brilliant idea,” he mutters, sarcasm heavy in his voice. Garrett’s eyes fly open and he sits up a little quicker than he would like, blinking against the abrupt change of scenery and the headrush. “By which I mean, you just said I’m a newly turned werewolf, Vincent, what the fuck?” 

“At least you already know werewolves exist,” he says.

It’s not helpful. Garrett gives him the glare he thinks he deserves, and then lays back down, pressing his palms into his closed eyes. Maybe if he thinks hard enough, this will go away. “I can’t be a werewolf,” he says, as if it will change anything. “I have a teenage daughter. I’m a medical doctor. I work night shift half the time, I can’t take every full moon off!” 

“That’s what the wolfsbane is for.” 

“Oh, right. How could I forget? My veins feel like they’re actually on fire and this is the only way to not turn into a wolf that will bite anyone around.” 

“You’re a very negative person, aren’t you?” 

Garrett grimaces. He’s just realized what the heartbeat he can hear actually is, and attempts to peer at the other occupant of the room, the one he missed. “Sorry, Dave. I didn’t mean any offence. Much.” 

Dave, the werewolf responsible for this entire thing, snorts, but it sounds half-hearted and exhausted. He is trembling. “I should be the one apologizing. I ruined your life, man. I owe you.” 

“Should I be worried about the shaking?” 

“Doc didn’t give me any ‘bane until I’d already transformed, is all. Remember to take it like you’re s’posed to and it works out better.” 

“Great.” Garrett takes medication for anxiety on the daily. He now has to add injections of liquidated wolfsbane to his schedule at least once a month, twice in a blue moon, and he really doesn’t want to wish harm on Dave – so he doesn’t. He closes his eyes again, takes a deep, supposedly steadying breath. “This is just what I needed.” 

“Dad?” 

Garrett opens his eyes and looks up. April is standing over him with a look of concern, the door open behind where his head has been resting this entire time. “Hey, sweetie,” he says, trying for a sincere smile. He doesn’t know how close he gets as she dumps her bag and kneels down beside him. “I hear your sleepover wasn’t that great.” 

“Muriel is being mean, so I called to come home. Vincent said you were – hurt?” 

“Oh, it’s nothing. I’m just – um.” Garrett pauses. He cannot lie to his daughter, she needs to know what is going on. It isn’t fair to keep her in the dark. 

He has to tell her about supernaturals, if she hasn’t guessed already.

Garrett groans aloud, pressing his palms back into his eye sockets. “Remind me to kill you later,” he mutters. “It’s the least you deserve.” 

Vincent snorts, and Dave’s noise is more like a whimper. There’s something decidedly lupine in it, and that’s exactly the sort of thing Garrett needs to hear right now. 

“So,” he starts, pulling his eyes away, “you know how there are humans in the world, and they have different races? African, Asian, Caucasian, Mongoloid.” 

“Yes...?”

“Well, those differences are just aesthetic. The differences that actually matter a little bit are the ones that make human beings into something – supernatural.” 

There’s quiet for a long moment. “Are you trying to make a joke about that TV show?” April asks, wary. 

Garrett sighs. He wishes he was. “I wish I was,” he says, “but what I’m actually saying is that vampires and werewolves and dryads and all that – it’s real. That’s what’s special about Vincent’s patients. That’s why they are in the basements, that’s why pretty much everyone avoids him and thinks he’s insane.” 

“Hey,” Vincent says. It’s mild enough that Garrett doesn’t believe he actually cares. 

“Also, that’s Dave. Say hi to Dave.” He waits for April to wave awkwardly at the patient. “He’s a werewolf. And he bit me.”