#Selkie reader

[obsessivevoidkitten]

The Selkie and the Sailor

Yandere Male Sailor x Selkie Male Reader

CW: Noncon, kidnapping, general yandere behavior

Word Count: 583

A tale as old as the ages. A human hopelessly enamored by a selkie. Captain Frederick Farview, in his early thirties, was the human. He owned and sailed a large leisure vessel for wealthy customers.

And you were the selkie. An abnormal male one at that. 

He had first encountered you while doing a cruise for wealthy clients. From the boat, he had seen a strange sight. He saw a beautiful man put on some sort of cloth and transform into a beautiful seal before sliding into the water and swimming away. 

He had been so enamored by the creature he had seen in the moonlight that he had to see it again. Out of pure curiosity, and to assure himself that he had not imagined it, he took a smaller personal boat back to the location after the cruise finally ended.

The captain knew it was likely a long shot, but he had to know for sure. To his surprise, he actually went around you, sitting on a rock jutting out of the water in the distance. Though you swam away when you noticed him. 

You had been warned about humans.

But eventually, your curiosity got the better of you, and his persistence paid off. You allowed him to approach within speaking distance. He was charming and kind. Curious about your origins and culture.

Soon enough, he won you over. You shed your seal skin lower half, which allowed you to morph into a human form and board his fancy yacht.

After a few times, you let your guard down, and he wrestled your magic skin from you and forced you to be his.

He hid it away and took you to his home. Having nowhere else to go in this strange world and owning nothing, not even clothes, you were dependent on him and had to endure marriage to him. 

But worse than that, you had to endure his cock constantly. Filling your mouth or ass with his seed constantly. It seemed there was nothing he liked more than having his hands caressing you as he fucked into you while babbling about how perfect and beautiful you were.

One day, though, you finally found your skin. He had taken you for a small trip on his personal yacht, and you found it still stashed there all this time while he slept. Like a treasure to be hidden away from the world.

A treasure indeed.

You took it to the deck and slipped it on before jumping into the water with a splash. Captain Farview woke up and found you missing from his side. He arrived just in time to see you swim away.

With a growl of frustration, he got some fishing gear and was in hot pursuit. The waters here were shallow, so he knew if he was fast, you wouldn't be able to escape.

In the end, he caught you in a net. When he took you home, he tied you up in front of the roaring fireplace and threw your seal skin, your selkie birthright, into the flames.

You screamed and lunged forward, but his strong hands kept you in place as you howled in agony. It pained him to see you like this, but it was the only way to get it through your head that your place was with him.

He picked you up and buried your face in his chest as you wept.

"Come on, let's get you to bed. You've had a long day."

[bones-of-a-rabbit]

the free baby saga,,,,,,,,,, FINALE

could also be considered, Moon infects Sun with baby fever. Selkie Reader is confused but glad their husbands are having fun 💕💕💕

First part here !

[ddollfface]

My heart aches for my lil baby sailor/selkie son! I’d give him all the hugs, kisses, and love if I could! I hope our relationship with him can improve. I don’t want him to grow up a sad, bitter, and neglected person!

(;´༎ຶД༎ຶ`)

Honestly, I’d be willing to force myself to loving sailor so that son can witness a loving relationship from his parents! And I’d prob fall in love with sailor already cause I love all the yandere red flags!

𝐖𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐓𝐡𝐨𝐮��𝐡?

𝙇𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙎𝙞𝙘𝙠!𝙎𝙖𝙞𝙡𝙤𝙧 𝙭 𝙎𝙚𝙡𝙠𝙞𝙚!𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧

Let's be realistic here, nonnie. You wouldn't. Trigger Warnings; ANGST, yandere, kidnapping, mentions of rape, poorly written gore, forced pregnancy, gross.

That’s what you thought in the beginning, when you were pregnant, newly captured brought home to your lover’s arms. You thought that you’d be the loving mother who could ignore all the bad signs, that could push past the abuse and cold words, only seeing the obsession in his eyes as a positive. I mean, though his touch feels like poison, and his voice is nails on a chalkboard, at least he loves you? You thought that it was irrational to blame an innocent child for the doings of their father, that it was horrible for you to look down at your stomach with grimace and shame. 

How could you? How could you think so poorly of your son? What kind of mother are you for resenting your body for taking his seed as it’s supposed to? It made you sick. You wanted to claw out your tongue, smash in your teeth, and scream until your lungs collapsed for ever muttering the words I love you to such a man. You wanted to feel your blood swell in your mouth, dribbling down your aching throat as you cried, cried, cried out in pain. The feeling of something, something of his growing inside of you, stealing your energy, and sucking the life out of you. 

But you tried. You smiled, giggled, and laughed at every word he spewed out, not listening to a single syllable. He knew it was an act, that you didn’t love him, but he respected your act so he was soft. He gave you space, letting you breathe, ignoring your sobs as you curled away from him in your shared bed. He didn’t let you go hungry, cooking your meals every morning, day, and night. No matter how difficult you’d be, he’d come to your every beck and call. That made things easier, more tolerable, making it seem as if you were a victim of rape, kidnapping, and forced marriage.

It allowed you to live in a fantasy as a loving wife, assisting your husband in the lighthouse, cleaning when you could, and even making dinner! You lived like this for a while, but as your stomach grew, and your situation settled, you came to realize that you weren’t leaving. You weren’t you; who were you? Where were you? Why were you so pliant? 

You remembered.

Everything! You remembered the feeling of his hands on your skin, clawing away at your pelt, scrapping any trace of who you were away and replacing it with him, him, him. His hands cupping your jaw, whispering sweet nothings as he pressed you against the sand of the beach. You can still feel the sting of the sand imprinting against your smooth skin, feeling your pelt get torn away from you, slipped away from your gasps.

Let it be known, you fought. 

You clawed, bit, and scratched, slapping anything that was in your view. Your pupils dilated as his hands grazed down your body, massaging, and pressing against your skin as if you were a prayer. His lips followed suit, peppering across your skin, making you gag. Your heart was swelling with rage, filthy rage. A need to jab, punch, hit, scream, anything to get you away, consuming your soul.

You were never the same, never seeing the ocean in the same light. The waves pressing against your side as he slipped off your clothes, brushing away any tears that dribbled down your cheeks, your hands reaching out for the ocean, your home. He’d swat your hands away, tsking as he leaned down, brushing his nose against your cheek, nuzzling into your flesh.

His touch felt like a searing pan, the burning of a stove as he slowly melted his lips to yours, tilting his head in a soft motion. You bit at his lips, trying to rip the flesh away. Your jagged teeth drawing blood. It made you happy, proud of yourself when the taste of iron flooded into your mouth, staining your taste buds as you screamed, calling for your brethren.

He took you that night, deciding that if you weren’t going to be soft, then neither was he. He pressed you into the dirt, taking you like a bitch. Soft words still spewing from his mouth as he held your waist, holding you down as he pinned you to the ground. The sound of the ocean calling out to you as you grabbed the grains of sand, feeling them against your palm as you clawed at the ground, hoping for it to swallow you in one gulp. 

But that was in the past, no? It was just a fit of rage, you concluded. You were quite rude, you recall, spitting insults and hurtful glares throughout the whole… exchange. Maybe he wasn’t too bad… he did clean you up afterward, that’s what good men do, no? You’re not sure. Let’s just say, you’ve never been too keen on human affairs, never interesting you the same way it did to your sisters and brothers. 

You could put that in the past, ridding it from your memory, and replacing it with his gentle touch. The way he helps you do the dishes, placing you on the counter as you watch him work. His eyes lingering on your stomach for a moment too long, but there was nothing but a content gleam in them. His hazel eyes locked on your form, never leaving you as if he was afraid you’d disappear. That look always ruins it for you, it rips you away from your wishful fantasy of a loving home. It reminds you that he is in fact not your husband, but your hopelessly obsessive captor who doesn’t trust you to do anything. 

But you could do this. You could look past that look in his eyes, brushing it off as him as being protective over your fragile baby. You are carrying his baby, after all. It’s only natural that he’s a little antsy whenever you use a knife, or stand on a chair to get a jar, or peer outside for too long. It’s just natural, you tell yourself. You could get through this and succumb to his fantasies. His fantasies were yours, you told yourself. It was difficult in the beginning, but you’ve gotten used to it. 

You no longer flinch away from his touches, letting his hands settle on your baby bump, rubbing the skin of your stomach with warm, strong hands. His scared tissue brushing against your smooth skin, causing you to shiver, but you suppressed it. You could do this.

It’s not that bad when he helps you in the kitchen. You’re no longer worried that he’ll carve out your heart for his own needs, wanting to take you in the most primal sense of the word. Your eyes don’t flicker to his form every time he picks up a knife, wondering if it’ll be you chopped instead of the lamb. You could do this. 

And you don’t let your eyes linger on the ocean anymore, deciding to busy yourself with other things than just sitting on a window seal. You crochet now, making blankets, shirts, and socks for yourself, thinking of it as a self-service for yourself. Though you could always feel your heart skip a beat, and your head feels fuzzy whenever he suggests you make something for the little man. You… you could…

To look into the eyes of another, and to only see the eyes of your captor. The eyes of a man who ripped you from your home, shed you of your skin, and raped you like breeding cattle. Though the gleam is different, the eyes are the same. Though the hair is of a different texture, that of a soft touch, it's the same. Though the skin is tinted darker, it's the same.

Though it's just a little boy, it's still him.

And you can never forgive him for that, no matter how much he tries.

[parvulous-writings]

Aagh thank you so much for taking my Selkie!reader request!! it’s so cute, I absolutely love it!! 💓🦭 I would love a one-shot if you wouldn’t mind 🫶🏻

Warnings: Reading is referred to with she/her pronouns and fem descriptors, vague descriptors of peeling off skin. Somewhat abrupt ending, maybe? Not sure, I've been staring at this for too long

Words: 2.4K

Notes:  My requests are currently open! My request post (found here) contains both a list of characters I write for, and a masterlist!  Original character list - please request for these too! If you’d like to support me more, consider reblogging! I’d appreciate it loads!!

Gale had certainly been one of your more courteous companions, on your group's slow and steady journey up to Baldur's Gate. Whilst a lot of the others - particularly Astarion, and at times, Lae'zel - would often mutter or complain about how often you would need to stop to 'bathe'. The only ones who didn't try and hurry you along were the wizard, and Wyll. Wyll understood why the others were getting so frustrated, and so did Gale, you were all under a tiny bit of a time constraint on the road. "It's only once a day," Wyll would often defend - not that you were usually in earshot of this. "It is rarely even over an hour or two - I am well aware that we have issues to resolve-" He held up a hand to silence Shadowheart, who had just opened her mouth to retort, most likely with some remark about how they would all be in deep trouble if they kept stopping for everyone's habits, bathing or otherwise. "But, she is the one who holds us all together, and for such a feat, I feel we could... Afford her this much." "Perhaps I should start bathing as much." Astarion drawls, examining his long nails idly as he spoke. "I mean... If one of us can 'afford' to do it, then evidently the rest of us can as well, hm?" Wyll gave the vampire a look of mild exasperation, whilst Gale spoke up. "That isn't what Wyll meant - and you are well aware of that fact." He stated, his voice firm. "You know that she has been incredibly kind to us - you in particular - so we are showing her some kindness in turn." He folded his arms across his chest as he practically scolded the Elf, trying to appear intimidating. It didn't work all that well, at least, not from Astarion's perspective. "But, if you are really so intent on being bothered by this, I will go and ask her to hurry along..." He then continued, as Astarion's eyes became dour. If there was something that the wizard didn't want to do, it was irk the paler man's ire.

With that, Gale trotted off down the same path that you had taken merely half an hour prior, muttering to himself about how easily he had caved to the demands and how he should have stood his ground more. If not for his own dignity, then for your sake. Gale was immensely fond of you, perhaps more than he should have been, considering the short amount of time that he had known you for. But for the wizard, the kindness that you had shown him meant the world. It was the same kindness you showed to all the other companions, but he felt it was special, when it came to him. After so long without such affections - if they could even be called such - Gale's mind was going into overdrive in the presence of it, latching onto you in a way that he tried consciously to ignore, but every time the thoughts of staying at arms length from you left his mind, he would slowly drift ever closer to you. You had never shown any aversion to him. Even when he had admitted to you about the perilous situation thanks to the orb embedded in his chest, you had not shied away, nor had you cast him out. It was more - so much more - than he deserved.

The stroll to the riverbank only took him about ten minutes or so. He had been so wrapped up in his internal battle about whether to just turn around and leave you be, to stand his ground, that he almost dipped his boot into the cold water. He blinked for a moment or so, shaking his head to centre himself, before he made his eyes try to focus on the banks. Where had you decided to take your dip? He assumed it wouldn't be right at the end of that small path, where anyone would be able to wander and see you - you liked your privacy. So, he began to wander, sweeping his eyes across the spaces in front of him, looking for any sign of you or your belongings. In bushes, behind the odd tree, but there wasn't anything, for quite a while. He was beginning to grow concerned - what if you had been caught unawares by a bear, or even a stray goblin? No, that makes no sense, the rational voice in his head countered. She has taken on owlbears practically by herself. Why would a goblin pose a threat? He couldn't argue with that voice, he had seen you do marvellous, perhaps even borderline terrible if the circumstances were different, things. Whilst he was so wrapped up in his thoughts, he almost ended up face-first in the slick grass of the verge after stumbling over one of your boots. Thankfully, he caught himself, saving him from such embarrassment. Gale hummed gently to himself, discovering your discarded blouse and trousers not far from where he had tripped. But you... You were nowhere he could see. He thought about calling out for you, trying to grab your attention - wherever you may be... In the nearby reeds, perhaps? Before he could, however, the splash and ripple of the water beside him diverted his attention from his forming words.

Upon turning his gaze, he locked eyes with something he had not expected to see, so far from the coast of the North. It was a seal. The roundest, darkest eyes just stared back at him, unwavering. Despite the creature being rather adorable, the stare was downright unnerving, and almost... Human. That wasn't entirely something he was expecting - that level of sentience behind it's eyes. Even when he had consumed a potion of animal speaking, there wasn't that look, that shine, to an animal's eye. "Um, forgive me, I-" Gale wasn't entirely sure why his first instinct was to speak. He hadn't taken a potion of animal speaking since their last long rest last night, he would have no way to understand the beast. His eyes trailed back down to the clothes he had discovered as the animal started hauling itself out of the water, and onto the verge. "I was looking for someone, I think she might be somewhere around here..." Why was he still talking? He had no idea. But for some, inexplicable reason, it didn't feel at all weird. Perhaps he had been relying too much on the potions, recently. "These are her clothes, see, and-" He started to turn back, and instead of the seal becoming the focus of his gaze, it was, instead, you. Dripping wet, a mirthful smile dancing across your features. Peeling away from your body, and still partially clutched in your hands, was a seal skin. Gale's mind completely blanked for a moment, and his eyes drifted downward of their own accord, towards your chest as his cheeks began to heat up. As soon as he realised he was beginning to practically ogle your naked form, he averted his eyes. "By Mystra's robe, I-" He started, clearly flustered. His mind felt like it was going blank, over and over, unable to make any clear thoughts.

He tried to focus his eyes anywhere else, anywhere but you, his mouth opening and closing over and over, but little more than stuttering sounds leaving it. "Gale." Your voice breaks him from his thoughts, but he still cannot quite get himself to look at you. He offers a gentle hum, to show he heard you. "May I have my clothes, please?" Without another word, he gathers your garments, holding them out to you, one by one. "Shouldn't you... Dry yourself, first?" He asked, hazarding a glance your way. "It's just a bit of water, Gale... It'll dry." You chuckled, pulling your blouse on over your head. It did stick in a couple of places, but, for someone who had just come out of a river, it wasn't as bad as Gale had anticipated. Perhaps that was the seal skin? "Did you need something, Gale..?" You asked, whilst in the middle of redressing yourself. You glanced over to the wizard as you spoke, noticing he had his back to you, clearly still bashful about seeing you in the nude. It was rather sweet, really, how sweet he could be. "The uh... The others were wondering where you were..." He replied, almost lamely. "So I came to see if you were... Finished bathing..." He was finally able to meet your gaze again, now that you were fully clothed, and he didn't risk catching a glimpse of something more intimate. He wasn't entirely sure what to think, or what even to ask. Why had you been a seal? How had you been a seal? You spotted that look of inquisition in his eye - that twinkle that always seemed to appear when he had a barrage of questions stewing in his mind.

"Something on your mind?" You asked him, your voice almost teasing. You knew there was, it was impossible to miss; and you were well aware of how odd the situation the one he had just seen you in could look, even to someone as well-studied as him. "I just... How?" He asked, vaguely gesturing to you as you gently folded your seal skin, carefully placing it in your pack, right at the bottom, away from prying eyes. "You were you when I saw you this morning, and now you're some sort of seal... Shifting... Creature?" He asked, the cogs audibly turning in his head as he continued waving his hands about, as if this would help him to think. You had to hold in a laugh - this was a seriously confusing moment for him, but you would have thought with all his time spent with his nose stuck in a book before this adventure, that he might have had some sort of idea of what you were... Part of you didn't want to tell him; it took a lot of trust to disclose to anyone what you were, you knew all too well that there were many humans who were all too eager to take advantage of your situation. But, you were almost backed into a corner now. He had seen you, not just in your seal, but physically peeling it off, too. Why had you done that? We trust him, a small voice, nestled in the very back of your head spoke quietly. He has been kind to us... Perhaps he is not like the stories. You considered this for a moment. Before your unforseen adventure, you had always tended to avoid humans; tales from your family and friends had struck the fear of them deep into you. But now that you had been travelling with a few for a while... They didn't seem so bad. Sure, none of them knew that you were a selkie, but they had shown no inclination that they were malicious, for the most part. Wyll was the pinnacle of a knight in shining armour, and Gale was a very considerate man, especially after such a long period of isolation before his abduction.

"It... Is a thing that I keep somewhat... Secret." You said, slowly, and this caught Gale's attention. A secret? Something you had kept from the rest of this group, for all this time? "Is it an... Affliction, of some description? A curse?" He asked, his brows furrowed, clearly concerned for you. "To an extent, I suppose..." You shrugged slightly. "The only real 'curse' of it, is needing to swim, and be in water, as a... Well, a seal, often..." Gale's expression turned contemplative at this. "Your daily habits..." He mused, more to himself than to you. His hand absent-mindedly moved to his chin, slowly stroking at the stubble that littered it. "Shedding skin... Seal.. Must be near to water..." His voice was low as he murmured his thoughts aloud, trying his best to connect the dots. Then his eyes lit up, and his head all but snapped towards you. "A selkie-?" He blurted. Ah, so he did know of your kind. You give a somewhat sheepish smile, telling him all he needed to know. His gaze shifted to one of pure awe. "I... Had no idea - I mean, you had given no true hint, I suppose. You're beautiful, to be sure, but I never realised that it was because-" He stopped himself mid-ramble, his cheeks flushing as he realised what he had just said in his hurry to rationalise himself, and his thought process - or lack thereof in the past couple of months. You give him another smile, "You think I'm beautiful?" You asked the wizard, teasingly. Gale slowly began to nod - he couldn't exactly backtrack his words without insulting you, which was something he did not want to do, at near any cost. "Breathtaking, even... If I may." His voice was low, little more than a murmur.

The two of you share a look, then. A look of what could only be mutuality. And it was - you had eyed Gale for the past two weeks, at least. He had been caring, attentive to your needs, to your likes. It was hard for you to deny the flutter in your chest, that only seemed to be caused by him, or his presence. Without another word, you held out your hand to him, which he took without question, not even a second guess. It was something he had craved for a while, himself. Holding your hand in his, it felt right. Like bliss, even. He was happy to oblige you. So, the two of you began to walk back. You were anticipating a flurry of questions - things both mundane and not, about your life as a selkie. Yet, the wizard was oddly quiet, seemingly basking your presence, now that there were no secrets between the two of you. It felt nice, to him. Freeing, even. It was like, for the briefest of moments, there was nothing and no one outside of the two of you; no illithids, no pressing quest, no monsters lurking on the road ahead. Gale wanted it to last forever, and kept stealing glances your way, finally being able to take in your beauty without shame. Part of him knew he would be teased by some camp members when this came to light, but he didn't care. Perhaps now, the pair of you could bond more. Gale would like that - and he was starting to get the impression, that you would very much like it too.

[aerkame]

In the finfolk au, what if y/n knew not to give Wally their real name (or at least was weary of him and didn’t trust him enough to tell) and tried to give a nickname instead? Would he know instantly they were lying? And how would he try to get them to say their real name? Also, how would he and everyone else react if y/n upon transforming into a mermaid was terrified and tried to escape?

If Wally doesn't take notice of something Home is there to help... Side note: Normal puppets are just the equivalent of humans in this AU to prevent confusion.

EDIT: ACK, just remembered the last part of the ask. I shall make a part 2 to this ask then. Hopefully the anon will be able to see it when it gets posted!

You were always warned about the finfolk. Luckily you weren't exactly a normal puppet so you doubt that any of the residents here would try to trap you on the island with them. But that small bit of paranoia kept you on your toes...well crutches. Your leg was still healing and as far as you could tell you'd be staying at 'Home' until the injury healed.

"My name is..." You thought of something quick, giving Wally a fake name. You don't know what exactly will happen if you give him your true name, but you've heard plenty of times now to never ever give it out to the fae, demons, angels, or the finfolk.

The tall puppet clicked his felt tongue before placing his hands behind his back. "What a lovely name."

---

Wally is well aware that you have been lying to him, but who is he to try and pry information out of you? He shook his head at the thought. While the finman really wanted to just force the name out of you, it would be better to get you comfortable here first, and then they could begin their goal on making you a permanent resident. Just like they did with Frank.

Speaking of which...he turned around to look at the puppet in question, humming in delight upon seeing you two get along, sipping tea and sharing stories.

Frank was the perfect tool to get you to open up really. He had no issues with the island, he understood selkies and their current dwindling numbers, he was level-headed, and most importantly, he was a normal puppet before. He could relate to you in a sense. The grey puppet even helped you lean towards staying or at least consider the possibility of staying here, having brought up the issue that poachers and criminals alike will do nothing but continue stealing selkie coats for profit.

"Quite frankly, you might be better off staying here. You and I both know there is not much out there for selkies and it's only going to get worse with the constant poaching and coat thieves, your kind are on the brink of extinction for stars sake."

Frank sighed after his mini-rant, having worked himself up. The topic of poaching and hunting exotic or near-extinct species was an upsetting topic and it was easy to tell. You didn't speak much for a while after that, continuing to listen to Frank while sipping at the hot beverage. "Hey...Frank, if I did decide to stay would the others even be alright with that?" Your voice cracked a bit. You don't know why, but it felt like eyes were pinning you to the plush seat, demanding that you stay put.

His eyebrows quirked and he gave you a questioning look. "I have no doubt that the neighbors wouldn't mind you staying." He crossed his arms looking more stern now. "If anything I'd say that you would be safer here with us."

You gave Frank a small smile. The eyes followed you.

---

"So, neighbor. I heard that you've been getting quite comfortable yes?" Wally swished his wine in small circles before taking a sip, not once taking his eyes off you.

"oh, uhm, yes! It's very nice here, there are so many smaller islands and lots of places to explore. And the colorsss..." Your words slurred slightly "so many colors evenn in the plantss. I've never seen any place like thiss! I mean even the insects and fish are unique here, Frankyy showed me his whole collection which he says isn't done ye-" Your face was beet red and the finman could tell he had you drunk enough once you couldn't stop talking yourself into a mess.

Carefully leaning over, Wally placed a hand on yours as he rubbed circles into your palm. Time to butter you up.

"You know, you could always stay with us here, forever. You'll never not be bored, you'll have friends, and you'd be safe." He inhaled, the small but hidden slits behind his cheeks opening, smelling the scent that lingered on your form remembering it was the perfume he gave you. He sighed, content.

Wally looked down at your small body. You had stopped rambling and now you were avoiding eye contact, preferring to look down into your lap or looking off to the side.

"Ah...you know, I could never get your name out of my mind. It's just so wonderful...If you did stay I could call you by it all I want." He leaned in closer, softly grabbing hold of your chin to lift it up, making sure he could see your eyes.

A thumb brushed over your mouth "I just wished there was more I could do to help you..." He breathed out your false name and watched you struggle internally...good.

"Uhm, actually, Wally, there's something I've been meaning to tell you."

"Oh? I'm all ears." His plan was going along flawlessly.

Wally softly let go of your face, but remained close, fixing you in a position of feeling pinned. "I-I lied. About my name. I lied aboutt a lot of things." Some of your letters still slurred but it was obvious you were trying your hardest to think clearly.

"That's alright dear, I knew the whole time, but I figured you had a reason." Wally was grinning ear to ear.

"My real name is..." Your named slipped your mouth.

Yellow hands flew up to cup your cheeks. Wally held a mixed face that was of bliss and excitement. "Oh my darling I am so sorry I've called you by another name this entire time! Please allow me to make up for it with another dinner? Same time tomorrow."

Your head felt fuzzy as you nodded along to whatever he said. "It's- alriight." You felt numbed. Wait...

A part of you panicked for a second, having snapped into the the realm of reality, but you calmed down shortly after. You trusted him. Wally would never harm you or trap you right? He and the others have been all too kind and welcoming and if they really wanted to trap you they'd have figured out a way by now. Your thoughts were so rapid, everything is fast, too fast.

Wally was so caught up in his own thoughts he didn't pay attention to your swaying body until he heard a loud 'thud' and looked down at your sleeping form.

Oh dear, maybe that beverage was too strong for you to handle.

TL;DR

Don't get drunk around Wally. He's a finman and won't get drunk as easily... and he'll probably take advantage of that to get info out of you. Or he'll just make you a blushing mess.

[mrlidocaine]

Okie dokie, I cannot for the life of me find the request but bless your soul Anon this was so fun, seeing as my own Gramma told me selkie stories growing up.

It was a Childe x Selkie reader but I left it pretty lax so it's not character specific. Reader is female in this one. Enjoy y'all

TW: None I don't think

I will do as men do to seals

The sailor watched her with eyes bluer than the ocean, although they held no life. She was dozing against a rock near the shore; tucked away from sight the same way the speckled sealskin was tucked on her lap. He watched her with keen eyes, her beauty enrapturing and with the grace of a shark he snuck up and snatched the sealskin from her resting form. He held it up to the sun, the golden rays shining through the silky grey pelt and making it appear transparent. Her eyes opened and oh, what a cruel awakening, to see half of you held in the scarred hands of a hunter. He rolled up the soft grey and tucked it into his belt for now, turning his ocean eyes to her own.

"Say goodbye to the ocean." He stated simply, walking closer to her. She was caught, she was his now. She opened her mouth and nothing fell but salty tears, salt from the ocean herself. He reached out his calloused hand and brushed her quiet tears away before raising his fingers to his mouth and gently pressing his lips to the sea salt, unable to believe she was real, she was real and she was his now. He moved his hand back to her face, fingers slipping under her jaw and tilting her chin up, strength hidden under a terrifyingly soft touch. "Say it."

"Goodbye, goodbye." She hiccuped as her tears flowed smoothly down her skin and he smiled, pleased and proud and predatory. He ran his thumb over her cheek and his eyes looked like they softened. Almost. "You're mine." He whispered, he promised. A decree, an oath, a law. He moved back and his gaze hardened, kindness that didn't really exist falling away like stars in the morning sky. He grasped at his knife and tugged out her seal skin to hold one item in each hand, the sharp silver and soft grey so close in colour. She stared in horror, soft eyes widening and a shaky hand reaching out as she stumbled up and towards him. He slashed at the pelt, spots shredded and turning to slices, silky fur reduced to ribbons. That horrible thing was gone now and he laughed and she cried.

"Look what I've done. Look! The ocean does not own you anymore." He stated, a feral glint in his eyes. She stared, her mind buzzing and brain blank, hand held out for something that no longer existed, something she'd never get back. He stepped forward and pocketed his knife before tugging off his own shirt, dropping it over her in a mock resemblance of her own coat and scooping her up into his arms gently, as if he was not a monster or a shark, not a man that preyed on pretty seals. "I am your ocean now."

[ya-bug-boy]

Ingo x selkie reader?

Ingo x Selkie Reader!

You've grown up with stories of other selkies talking about how they would lose their loved ones to the humans. It was out of love but at the cost of losing their family, as humans would hide the selkie's fur coat, forbidding their reentry back into the ocean.

You've always looked at humans at a distance, seeing young and old couples gaze at your seal body in adoration before returning their rightful gaze back to their loved ones. You watch as they fawn over each other, making wonderful memories of something you yearned for but did not have.

The selkie community had dwindled over the years. Many left to become fully human or fully seals. Or perhaps to join a new community. You hoped that was the case. It was sad to think if any of your old childhood friends had been, well, eaten by predators.

Though you did not anticipate falling in love with Ingo, as he came unexpectedly into your life, you were always drawn to him.

When you had decided Ingo was your mate, you placed your fur coat within view of his home. But he did not take it.

So you try again. You leave it where he would most definitely see it. But as always, he never touched it.

After the fifth time, you confront him. "Did you not want me?" you asked him. "Why aren't you hiding my coat?"

Ingo then explains to you with all the love in his heart and voice that he doesn't want to steal from you to make you his. He doesn't want to force you to give up your original home, family, and community in order to be his. You may stay as a seal, human, selkie, whatever form you wish to be, but he would stay truthfully yours.

You had never known such love could exist where you would not forsake your origins.

So now, you and Ingo both hang up your coats, your fur coat and his subway boss coat, on the same coat rack nearby the front door.

You tend to his coat, mending it when it needs stitches and in return, he brushes the knots out of yours.

You are a seal.

You are a human.

You are a selkie

You are also Ingo's mate and he is yours.

[poisonioushearts]

hiii, can i request aurelius x (gn s/o) reader one shot? my idea is specific, but they're a selkie esper and he is Unaware that it's basically a marriage proposal to return their jacket (which looks like a seal skin)

i just think it'd be cute and funny

feel free to not accept this it's a little specific bc i'm silly. everything else is free reign really 🪼

This sounds interesting! I tried so I hope it came out alright, I had to do some research on selkies to make sure I didn't mess anything up there.

There's a bit of a build up to that moment btw to give more background, hope that's alright 👍

Hope it's not ooc?

Gender neutral reader

Warnings: not proofread, probably some grammatical errors

Synopsis/tags: fluff, both being flustered, fluff, FLUFF, selkie reader

The Jacket Proposal

You and Aurelius had taken shelter from a particularly intense snow storm on the mountains.

You both entered the cave albeit cautiously but still ventured further.

You and your boyfriend dropped sticks at your feet and you both began to create a fire in tranquil silence.

Often he found it hard with words, so he was more than happy to listen to you talk about whatever came to mind no matter how random.

He draped his coat over a large rock to dry and scooted closer to the fire for warmth.

You both enjoyed the warmth, but having been a cold blooded creature because of your transformation you didn't want to overheat to much so while pacing about the cave you slipped off your sea-skin like jacket and draped it over his shoulders before plopping next to him.

"Wait won't you need this?" He looked to you, hesitantly wrapping the jacket around his shoulders.

You shook your head, "Cold blooded remember? I don't want to overheat and I don't want you to get sick." You brushed his hair out of his eyes, then directed your attention to the dancing flames of the beautiful colors of orange and red.

Watching the fire you couldn't help but be drawn to how you first met. The encounter flashing across your mind like it happened just recently, when in reality, it was a few years.

Him, a socially awkward and quite guy, who distanced himself from society.

And you, someone who wanted to explore the world more and understand what life is like as an esper. Curious to.

It was your curiosity that drew you to him one day when it was particularly warmer than normal, but still cold enough to need a fire.

Aurelius had set up camp by a river that wasn't frozen. But there was no doubt that it was ice cold.

He had heightened senses after being out in the cold and hunting. But he also knows what the feeling is like to be watched as well.

He turned around, but didn't see anything in the snow. He turned back and his eyes went wide as he reached his hand for the weapon beside him, hand hovering over the weapon and not making another move because of the head that was staring back at him.

[Eye color] eyes and [Hair color] hair stuck to your forehead/neck in a mop due it being wet.

The longer he stared the less he felt hunted and the more he felt curious. He didn't see a hint of ill intent in your eyes, just curiosity.

You made the first movement and swam closer to him until you were a mere few feet away.

"Hello." You greeted, lifting your hand out of the water and giving him a friendly wave, showing your slightly webbed hand.

He gave a nod in greeting back, to afraid to speak because here he was, watching as a stranger just walked up out of the water.

You were about to continue but paused, eyes widening, your eyes were looking over his shoulders in slight fear before you dove back into the water, sending ripples across the body of water.

Confused, he looked behind himself to see a herd of miramon, not to far away and heading directly towards him.

He took hold of his bow and aimed towards the miramon. He felt a rush of air beside him before and the miramon were surrounded by waves of water, and you with your weapon, beside him defensively.

He took the opportunity to shoot an arrow, freezing the water. Forever keeping them in place.

He turned to you, seeing you still soaked from the water you emerged from, but not shivering in the slightest.

You had clothes of course, your signature outfit, clinging to your skin. Now he could see you fully he noticed that your fingers were webbed as well as your bare feet.

You smiled at him, showing off slightly pointed teeth before holding out a hand. "Names [Name]! Nice to meet you! Have you been in the mountains long? I never see others around these parts." Your friendly demeanor managed to break out a greeting out of him.

After a bit of conversation(mainly you talking and him listening), your eyes furrowed in thought and you dove in the water. He was confused, then he saw you coming back above the waves with a few fish.

"I noticed you didn't have food on you. Hungry?"

From that day forward, you managed to befriend him. And later on...even managed to become significant others.

"You alright?" He asked, noticing your long silence.

"Mhm!" You smiled, "Just thinking about when we first met."

"Ah."

A few minutes later in peaceful silence you looked out side to see that the storm has ceased enough. He noticed as well.

He stood and grabbed his coat, and without a second thought, held out the one you lent him.

He expected you to take it back, and when you didn't he looked to you and raised a brow.

You were stiff, eyes wide, and slightly flushed cheeks.

"...is something wrong?"

"Hm? What?" You jumped, voice a higher pitch than normal, "No, no. Ah- um- everything's fine!" Yet you still hesitate to take the jacket from his hands.

He stared at you, waiting for an explanation.

"Well...maybe...when...when a selkies skin or jacket or whatever is given or taken then returned it's seen as a..." You avoiding his eyes and bit the inside of your cheek, your voice becoming quieter, "marriage proposal."

The man almost dropped the material in his hands.

He doesn't always show much emotion, but, he was standing in front of you. Nearly the same reaction as you, his cheeks becoming red.

"But it's, ah, fine. I understand you didn't know so I...can just take it back." You say taking a deep breath trying to compose yourself.

He didn't speak. You were worried he was literally frozen on the spot when he, while avoiding eye contact, held out the jacket to you.

He ran a hand through his hair nervously and sheepishly. "I uh...was going to wait until I got a ring but...now is probably the best of any."

Confused for a second then it clicked and your mouth parted open in shock as you realized. He held out the jacket to you, "I love you [Name]. I have for a long time. Being with you all these months and years made me realize that I treasured these moments more and enjoyed being out here when I was with you. Before I met you I was on my own. I thought it was perfect, but it was far from it. I realized that when I first saw you. You aren't just beautiful on the outside, but on the inside too. I love just listening to your voice. I love being with you. I want to be with you until the end of time and even after that. So, [Name], will you marry me?" His voice was certain and this was probably the most he's ever spoken but nonetheless-

"Holy shit, fuck yes!" You'd shouted, jumping at him tackling him in a hug.

You laughed into the hug, "I guess you beat me to it."

"Huh?"

You broke from the hug and turned over your jacket, and from the pocket, pulled out a small black leather-like box.

-

Thank you for reading! Reblogs are greatly appreciated.

[eowynstwin]

peristalsis - ii.

selkie!soap x reader. depression. suicidal ideation. strangers to "lovers." . Running away from life to the Scottish Hebrides, you meet a man who won't leave you alone. . Masterlist. Ao3.

previous

You sleep long enough that, when you wake up, you have enough energy to cry.

It’s a big one. The kind of cry that threatens to turn your throat out, with how hard you sob. Alone in the cottage, far away from anything resembling civilization, you wail like wounded animal, choking on your own tears and mucus, losing track of your body buried underneath the covers—

But it happens at a remove. You watch yourself implode from someplace deep inside, not entirely sure why it’s happening at all—but long past trying to figure it out.

This is how it’s been for a while. There’s nothing special about it anymore. Nothing urgent. Most of the time, you are a blank space of a person, a vacuum where joy or rage or fear should be, but occasionally some maelstrom or another kicks up to fill it in, and your only course of action is to ride it out until it ends.

You’ve stopped trying to fix it. And you’ve stopped hoping anyone else can, either.

So you cry, until at last, you’re empty again. Or you’re too tired to continue. The difference is negligible, but functionally irrelevant. Once it’s done, you get out of bed.

The pressure in the shower is as weak as Johnny reported, but the water is indeed warm when you turn it on; you stand naked under the flow, arms hanging at your sides.

The day stretches itself out before you with nothing to occupying it, just as you’d planned. Nothing to work towards; no effort to put forward. Nothing, thanks to your choice of locale, to feel guilty about not seeking out.

A day of peace and utter quiet.

Suddenly—violent banging, somewhere in the cottage. It startles you; you jump so sharply at the noise that you smack your wrist on the soap caddy attached to the shower wall. The banging comes again—annoyed, you realize with no little bemusement that someone is at the front door.

You wrap yourself in a towel and hobble out of the bathroom to answer it, a piece of your mind on your tongue, dart-shaped and ready to fly—

Of course it’s Johnny.

Johnny, big and burly in a sweater, kilt, and pelt once again, two paper cups balanced in one large hand and a grocery bag hanging from the other. Whose dark brows shoot up his forehead as his eyes travel with surprise, and blatant appreciation, down the dripping length your body.

“Well, good mornin’, bonnie,” he purrs.

“What,” you grunt. A cold breath of wind chooses that moment to force its way through the door, gasping across the shower water still running in rivulets from your hair to the rolled edge of your towel. Goosebumps erupt from your bare skin in millions of simultaneous pinpricks—you flinch bodily at the chill.

“Ah, hell’s bells, don’t just stand there,” Johnny says, following the wind. “It’s freezin,’ go on, let me get in, hurry.”

You let him step inside, for some reason, and he shuts the door behind him with the heel of his boot. He wastes no time after that, heading to the kitchen to set down his things.

“Brought breakfast!” he says cheerfully. “There’s this bakery on Barra I thought you’d like, fresh doughnuts and coffee. Dunno how you take yours, but there’s sugar in the pantry and cream in the fridge.”

“I don’t want breakfast,” you say.

“What? ‘Course you do. I’m no’ takin’ you seal-watchin’ on an empty stomach.”

He starts unpacking the grocery bag and setting things on the counter while your jaw hangs open. Several things occur to you to say—I never agreed to that and what the hell is wrong with you, for starters—but your stomach growls at him before you can. The aroma of fresh-baked pastry wafts through the kitchen when he opens one box, and he turns to grin at you, cheeks dimpling.

“Do you get dressed, bonnie,” he says. “It’ll still be here when y’get back.”

It is less polite than he perhaps intends it to be, given that his gaze travels appreciatively across your bare shoulders. You cross your arms fruitlessly over your chest and, nothing else for it, retreat to the bedroom, feeling his eyes on you the whole way.

You return to the kitchen after having pulled on wool leggings and the same fleecy sweater from the day before. Johnny, one hip set against the counter, has a cup of steaming coffee in one hand and a half-eaten cruller in the other, crumbs at the corner of his mouth.

“Got anythin’ heavier?” he asks around a chewed-up mouthful. “Gets cold out there.”

You look down at his bare calves, broad and taut and covered in a down of dark hair. “You seem alright.”

“I’m used to it,” he says, shrugging—the muscles flexing under your gaze.

You purse your lips. “I don’t have anything.” You hadn’t intended to leave the cottage overmuch.

You approach the counter. Johnny does not move a centimeter, forcing you to stand close as you pick through the two boxes of doughnuts and feel the body heat radiating off of him, displacing the scent of fried dough with his musk.

“That’s all right,” he says. You’re close enough to hear the way his voice hums deep in his chest. “I can keep you warm.”

You snatch a plain glazed from the box and take two very large steps away from him. The hair on the back of your neck lifts as you press against the sink behind you. If he notices your reaction, it doesn’t seem to bother him in the slightest—he lifts the cup to his lips and drinks, eyes sliding closed with simple, obvious pleasure, dark lashes curling against his cheek.

You take the brief respite from his gaze to stare at him. In the morning light, on a full night of sleep, you can almost believe that whatever you’d seen in him yesterday had been nothing more than a misfire of exhausted synapses. An overlay of a dream; a circadian prompt to rectify nearly seventeen hours of sleeplessness. You’d been cold, and tired, and hungry. That was all.

You bite down on your doughnut, not really tasting it. The nerves along your spine twitch and contract around the memory of his flashing gaze.

His eyes open again, and he smiles at you. “Good?” He flicks a look at the single bite you’ve taken, looks at your mouth, and then waits for your reply.

“It’s fine,” you grumble. Then, “How did you get here? I didn’t hear the truck drive up. Do you live close by?”

“Sometimes,” he says. He looks pleased that you’ve asked, that you’re interested at all, and you immediately regret inquiring. “Live on a boat, me. Moored in the cove right now.”

“A…boat,” you say.

“Aye.” A wisp of dark hair, something he must have missed when he gelled his mohawk this morning, flutters as he nods. “Nice and cozy. Not as grand as all this, mind.” He gestures around with coffee and doughnut at the less than five hundred square feet of the cottage. “But it’s still a sight nicer than some other places I’ve slept.”

He’s likely hinting at his military service. “Okay,” is all you say, unwilling to entertain it.

He smirk—undeterred. “We’ll take her out once you’re ready.”

“I never said I was going.”

Dark brows lift. “Got somethin’ else planned for today?” he asks, incredulous, as if he never imagined you wouldn’t want to hang out with him.

“No, I—”

You wrack your brain. You have no intention of explaining to this complete stranger that the last thing you’d wanted to do, when you booked this trip, was really anything at all—and in fact, you hadn’t even considered that that might be something anyone else would care much about.

Much less proactively address.

“No,” you repeat, sulking.

Johnny considers you, chewing. His eyes do not stray, this time, to places they don’t belong; but there’s an insight to them. A sharp awareness. A perception in his gaze that is just as undressing, as if whatever is going on with you is visible to the naked eye.

“I figure,” he says, slowly, as if to coax, “you put your wee shoes on, an’ I’ll pack this back up, and we take it along.”

“You don’t have to do this,” you grouse. “I don’t need you to, like—be my tour guide.”

“Aye, but that doesnae mean I don’t wanna,” he retorts, smiling.

He shoves the last bite of cruller in his mouth and gazes patiently at you as he works it with his jaw, the muscles flexing along his temples as he chews.

Exhaustion, your constant companion, stares you down alongside him. It would take so much more energy to fight him than to go along with whatever he has planned. Energy you just don’t have anymore. And going along doesn’t mean you have to pretend to enjoy yourself—it’s not like you care enough about Johnny’s self-esteem to conjure up a happy face to show him.

You can go, and be a bitch about it, and once you do maybe he’ll realize you’re not at all worth the effort he’s making, and then finally leave you alone.

“Fine,” you say, which is how you end up on a fishing trawler headed south toward, ostensibly, a colony of breeding seals.

It’s an old vessel—that much is obvious. Its edges and corners are dull with the passage of time and constant maintenance, scuffed by innumerable passes-over with cleaner and cloth. Mildew competes with the aroma of fresh varnish as Johnny leads you onto the bridge, which is mercifully closed in from the ocean wind.

The interior is mostly wood of a warm, orangish variety—you can’t tell if that’s a decision made with aesthetics or function in mind. The space comprises a kitchen, surprisingly well-appointed with a stove, sink, countertop, and fridge, and a small sitting area with both couch and booth seating. Surrounding windows allow in the grey light of the morning.

“Bought it off an old bloke on Lewis,” Johnny says, taking his place at the wheel, which is in a little alcove off the kitchen.

If you’d thought steering a boat would have curtailed his chatting, you’d have been wrong—he seems to have no trouble with that and talking, incessantly, at the same time, as he pulls the vessel away from the cove and into the open water.

“All his family moved to the mainland, he told me, an’ this is after generations fishin’ these islands, even makin’ it through the Clearances! No money in it anymore, he said, not like you could make in some office somewhere countin’ someone else’s money.” He checks something on the dashboard in front of him, but it doesn’t distract him for long. “Held on for a while, but people just kept leavin,’ an’ he was gettin’ too old to go out on his own. Got such a good price on it, I think he was just happy someone else was gonna take up the tradition.”

“Did he sell you the cottage too?” you ask, and then dig your nails into your wrist for encouraging him.

“Yup,” he says. “No one else wanted it, but me? I saw somethin’ special about it.”

He turns to smile at you—no doubt pleased you made the connection. You avert your gaze.

“Imagine someday I’ll have my own family here,” he continues. “Good place for it. Nice and slow, not like city living. Can hear yourself think out here. Perfect place to have a few wee ones.”

“If people stop leaving,” you mutter.

He turns to you again. “I’m no’ worried about that,” he replies. He’s still smiling. “You came here, after all.”

You have nothing to say to that.

The trip is a short one—Johnny brings the trawler alongside an island he informs you is called Mingulay, a square mile smaller than Vatersay’s tiny dot in the North Atlantic. Unlike the latter, he says, this island has not been inhabited since 1912, and has been completely reclaimed by the ocean and its wildlife.

After he drops anchor offshore, Johnny disappears down a steep flight of stairs below deck, which he had not offered a tour of, and emerges a short time later with a large, bulky coat.

“Didn’t I tell you?” he says proudly, holding it out by the shoulders. “Here, turn ‘round.”

You pause in the middle of reaching for it. You don’t know exactly why you comply—it occurs to you that if you grabbed for the jacket, he could simply not let go of it, and you would end up exactly where he wants you anyway. So you lower your arm and, resigned, give him your back.

He steps up behind you. Warmth pours off of him, more than you think any human body should be able to generate.

You hear him inhale, deeply, as he brings the jacket to your back. As you slide your arms into the sleeves, you feel his exhale on the nape of your neck, teasing through individual follicles of hair.

“There w’go,” he murmurs, much closer than you expected.

You can hear the low hum of his voice in his chest; his hands linger on your shoulders far longer than they need to, heavy, big enough that his index fingers brush along your collarbones.

When his hands make to slide down your back you step away from him and fumble to zip the jacket up; he chuckles lightly behind you. When you turn to face him, his lips are curled—smug.

“Alright then,” he says. “Let’s get out there.”

He rows the two of you to shore in a small kayak, two pairs of binoculars in your lap as you huddle away from the wind. You’ll be walking to the haul-out, he says—getting too close to the breeding grounds, which he calls a rookery, would spook them, possibly causing a stampede.

“It’s grey seals we’re gonna see,” he explains as the two of you pick your way across the rocky landscape. “Not the biggest haul-out you could see, some colonies get into the thousands, but we’ll have it all to ourselves.”

He insists on taking your elbow every time the two of you cross particularly uneven terrain, even though you don’t need it. You think he takes your attempts to shake him off as proof of your lack of balance, because he grasps you all the tighter every time.

“I’m not a child, Johnny, I can walk on my own,” you finally snap at him.

“Just bein’ a gentleman, bonnie,” he replies nonchalantly. He does not let you go.

As you get closer, you hear the seals before you see them, and when their voices reach you across the open island, you stop dead.

Groaning, grunting, hissing in a cacophonous chorus. Some part of your hindbrain double-takes, reshuffles itself—some ancestral instinct always on the lookout for predation. If you’d been given a chance to guess what a colony of mating seals might have sounded like, you’re not sure you could have guessed what they sounded like.

Certainly not like what you hear now—

Like people.

Johnny grins at you when he notices. “Aye, it’s a right ruckus, innit?”

He leads you up a small rise, where he has the two of you settle belly-down over the machair to overlook the wedge of rocky coast that the colony has claimed for its own.

And when you finally see it—it’s underwhelming.

Perhaps two hundred long, fat bodies, in varying shades of brown and grey, lay indolently along the rocks, in groups of three or four, some heavily galumphing from one place to another while others roll occasionally from side to side. The shifting winds catch their scent and blow it uncaringly into your face; you nearly gag at the admixture of dead fish and ammonia.

It doesn’t escape you that this is a rare thing to witness; you are not wholly immune to the fact that you are only a hundred meters away from something most people only encounter on a screen. It’s just that without a swell of awed music in the backdrop, or a narrator’s breathless wonder at the miracle of pinniped life, what’s left for you to observe is a population of wet, stinking animals, shitting where they lay, vocalizing without cease while they laze about doing basically nothing.

Johnny does not seem to notice your disillusionment; he hands you one pair of binoculars, and directs your attention to activity along the shoreline. You follow to where he’s pointing; one larger seal is hassling a smaller one, which snarls at the aggressor as it thrashes around with its substantial bulk.

“Little one there—” Johnny says, “that’s a female, probably obvious. Big one knows she’s ready to mate, can smell it on her.”

The female bares her teeth and lunges at the bigger male, which flinches back but holds his ground.

“Doesn’t look like she agrees,” you mutter.

“She’s just givin’ him a hard time. She’s all in heat, see? Just makes her cranky,” Johnny says. You feel his eyes on you, and lower your binoculars to look at him. “She’s got to fuss to feel all in control.”

You flush. “Right.”

“You don’t think so?”

“No,” you say. “He’s—he’s just bothering her.”

He gazes at you for a moment, contemplative. Corners of his mouth quirking upward. He does not reply for a long moment, long enough that you have to avert your gaze from his.

“Nah,” he finally says, and you don’t think you’re imagining the low, sultry note in his voice. “She wants it bad as he does.”

You scowl, uncomfortably perceived, and return your binoculars—the pair is still facing off, gurgling and growling at each other. The female is slim, almost sleek, unlike most of the other seals populating the rookery.

“Is she sick?” you ask.

“Hm? Oh, no, she’s alright. The mums lose a lot of weight when they nurse. Takes three weeks, and they don’t eat in the meantime.”

“Jesus.”

“Be nice if the dads ever brought ‘em a bite, aye?” Johnny agrees. “Deadbeats, the lot of them.”

The two of you survey the colony in silence for a moment. As the morning wears on, the cloud covering thins overhead, allowing cool sunlight to filter through. The temperature doesn’t rise in response; begrudgingly, you tug Johnny’s jacket a little tighter around you.

Then, suddenly, his hand lands on your back, between your shoulder blades.

“Got some pups over there,” he says. “Look, by the kelp.”

You find them; smaller bodies, white dinged with wet sand and dirt, lounge near their mothers or wriggle with aimless difficulty. They’re fluffy and round as plush toys, with shining black eyes and noses, and once Johnny’s pointed them out you can differentiate the higher, sweeter pitch of their cries from the overall cacophony.

“Sometimes,” Johnny murmurs, “search and rescue’ll get called out because someone thought they heard a baby crying. Some kid stranded or lost, right? Turns out to be a baby seal.”

“That’s kind of scary,” you say.

“Aye,” says Johnny. “Always makes me think that’s where the old legends come from, about seal people or mermaids.”

A small ways away, some of the mothers lay with their pups far into the surf, letting the waves break over them. You watch as one mother thunks her large head overtop of her pup’s as the water rushes toward them; the pup wriggles, and then, as the wave engulfs them, it begins to thrash, whipping up a panicked froth.

“Time for swimming lessons already?” Johnny muses. “Seems early.”

You’re horrified. “She’s going to drown it!”

The hand still on your back pats you consolingly. “Just watch,” says Johnny.

The wave reaches as far up the shore as gravity allows, and then begins to recede. The pup’s thrashing calms as the air meets its face once again; the cow allows the pup to lift its head, and after a few sputters, the pup seems no worse for wear.

“They’re hardier than they look, bonnie,” Johnny says.

His hand, heavy and warm even over his borrowed jacket, slides down from your shoulders to your lower back, and then he rubs, slowly, side to side, as if to comfort you—but the knobs of your spine contract at his touch.

“Last of the births this season, looks like,” he says. “Mum’s getting ready to leave—probably not the only one.”

Something hard drops into your stomach.

“They leave their babies?” you ask.

“Aye. Once they’re done nursing, they mate, and then they go.”

You look back at the other cows with their pups. One baby has its muzzle to its mother’s belly, quivering and suckling, while she lays with her head on a patch of grass. She looks uninterested—more, she looks disinterested. As if how voraciously her pup is nursing has nothing much to do with her, and she’s bored of even having to think about it.

Bored—and already looking forward to the next part of her life without a baby in it.

“That’s horrible,” you say.

“They’re solitary animals, bonnie,” Johnny says, not ungently. “The only time they’re really all together is for this.”

A line tightens between your stomach and throat, and you feel it start to build between your ribs. A tremor—foreshocks. The wind picks up, bringing a sharp chill off the ocean and up the rise that cuts into your stinging eyes, abrades the naked skin of your hands and the exposed part of your neck.

When you look through your binoculars again, you wonder how many of the pups you see have already been abandoned.

“Aw, bonnie,” Johnny says. There’s a kind of pity in his voice that has your hackles raising.

“I want to leave,” you say, yanking away from his touch and shuffling down the incline. “Take me back to the cottage.”

“Bonnie, it’s okay!” Johnny protests, rolling to his back to look at you as you stand. “The pups make it, they figure out how to fend for themselves.”

You glare at him, vision blurring. “All of them?”

Some part of you knows you’re being irrational—knows that nature is a cruel home, and that many children face worse fates than the seal pups. Abandoning the young, the needy, is no aberration; it is, in fact, far more the standard than the human practice, which lingers for decades—

Most of the time.

Johnny has no response. He holds your angry gaze, brows drawn low, mouth pressed into a thin line. It’s the first time that cocky aura, which seems to rest in every fine line on his face and every angle at which he holds his body, is completely absent.

He isn’t reflecting your anger back at you, though—he’s internalizing it. Letting it hit him, you think, and trying to use it to figure you out.

You do not want to be figured out.

You scoff again. “Take me back,” you repeat, and then you start walking in the direction you came, without waiting for him to follow.

Johnny drops you off in the cove, and thankfully does not linger this time before he departs—he bids you farewell after rowing you to shore, contemplation on his face, and then leaves you to yourself.

You retreat, seeking the cottage’s empty quiet.

As you perch on the couch you listen to the radiator hum—the wind blow over the reeds in the thatch roof—your own heart beating a drum in the arteries of your neck.

Percussive. Quick and hard. Like heavy knockers on a door. Pounding as if to burst through.

You realize you’re still wearing Johnny’s jacket, and you throw it off, disgusted with yourself. You get up and pace, and try to ignore it lying in a heap on the floor.

You do something you swore you wouldn’t do the moment you set foot on the island—you turn your phone back on.

True to Johnny’s word, there’s no signal. You picked this island, this part of the world, for a reason; for the past several years, a slow exodus from the British isles has vacated the need for dedicated cell towers or satellite or internet access, especially given that the only ones who remain are too old now to want it or need it or know how to use it.

It’s isolated. Cut off. Left behind by anyone with better options, and only clung to by those trying to preserve the only way of life they know.

Some kinder part of you belongs with that demographic; the part that was telling your mother the truth, before getting on the plane.

The rest of you holds your phone up and starts walking around.

In the furthest corner in the bedroom, you find a single bar of signal. A tiny chip of connectivity—a thin, frayed thread. Something you lied to yourself about cutting.

It’s a weak connection. Unstable. It could take a while—you stand there, waiting.

The screen dims. You tap it again.

Blank.

You unlock it, look through your apps. Wonder if maybe your notifications are bugged by your new SIM card.

Nothing—

No one.

You whip around and, with a cry, pitch the thing at the far wall—it hits the stone with a crunch, falling to the floor in pieces.

You’re out of the cottage then in a mad dash, door slamming behind you, driving yourself back into the wind. Far away—you want to be far away, far from everything, so far that nothing could possibly reach you. You trudge down the path toward the beach, banding your arms across your chest, shivering in the cold, and yet you hardly feel it.

Not worth it. No point. Waste of your time. Energy. All of it. Stop trying. Stop wanting. Nothing. Nothing. You want nothing.

You’re halfway down to the shore, not really knowing what you’re going to do when you get there, when you catch sight of a body on the sand.

You gasp, a sharp breath down your larynx, and freeze in a dead halt.

The body is completely still.

A swimmer? A diver? It’s dark, like it just pulled itself out of the ocean—or washed up—

Then, it moves. A twitch, a ripple across its bulk, and your chest rapidly decompresses.

A seal. It’s a large seal, lounging alone on the beach.

You stand motionless. You’re very close—much closer than you and Johnny had been at the rookery. You hadn’t contended with the sheer size of the animals, tucked safely up and away from them, but there is no illusion of distance now.

It’s the biggest one you’ve seen today, you’re sure of it. Bigger, you think, than most adult men. Its pelt is a riot of every shade of grey, splashy, like liquid paint thrown across a canvas. Black speckles scatter overtop of marbled white and cool slate, and down the center of its back is a broad, dark line, soft at the edges, which reaches all the way up to the top of the seal’s head.

The bull—it must be male—turns over. It lifts its head, and opens its eyes—

Fear suddenly zips up your spine as it looks right at you.

You stumble backward and trip on your own feet, landing hard on your ass. Johnny’s care with keeping enough distance from the colony rushes back to you, along with the warring couple’s bared teeth.

They can’t move that fast on land, right? They aren’t interested in people, right?

You scramble backward. It’s so much bigger than you ever would have imagined. If it got to you—threw itself over you—it could crush you with its weight alone—

The bull watches you placidly. Unperturbed.

You pause.

Its small eyes are dark and glossy—watchful and focused. The whiskers on its muzzle twitch a little as it takes you in. It breathes, deeply and evenly, huge body expanding and contracting at a slow, calm tempo. Its—his—nostrils flex, widening and narrowing, as he blinks docilely.

Unafraid.

If anything—curious.

Then he snorts, and wriggles in place. It startles a laugh out of you, more reaction than humor. Still watching you, the bull lowers his head back down, resting it again on the sand.

Your heartbeat abates. He doesn’t move again—nor does his attention leave you. Slowly, you sit up.

Wary. No sudden movements.

He doesn’t react; only continues to watch you.

You draw your knees up. Wrap your arms around your shins, and dust a bit of sand from your leggings. Rest your chin in the crevice between your knees.

There’s an intelligence in the bull’s eyes that is fathoms deep. There is a massive gulf between his experience of the world and yours, millennia of evolution separating your species from his—and yet…as you hold his gaze, you recognize the look in it.

Him, seeing you. And seeing you see him. The pendulum swinging between awareness of each other, and recognition of that shared awareness.

An empty space in the cloud cover passes overhead; sunlight touches the earth, warms it briefly before disappearing again. You wonder a little why this bull isn’t with the other seals.

Johnny would probably know.

“I didn’t come for you, you know,” you grumble at him.

The seal blinks. Awareness notwithstanding, you don’t share any language.

You sigh. “I guess you didn’t come to see me either,” you say.

But you don’t move away.

And you stay like that for a long while, you and he—regarding each other as the wind breathes out across the shore.

next chapter early access

a/n: follow for more seal facts™

Also huge thanks to Lev for trawler listings/info. Didn't explore it much this chapter but Soap's boat will show up more soon :)

[terato-is-life]

For a few of us, monsterfucking is never about kinking over some creature having you in all the ways possible.

It is about letting yourself being vulnerable and fragile and emotional with someone that's supposed to hurt and kill you, but instead just worships you and cares about you for being just like them:

Being shamed over the looks you've never asked for, but having the heart and sould only a few could understand.

Monsterfucking/Exophilia etc isn't just about an unusual kink.

It is OUR way of telling Beauty and the Beast, because we can see the good in them, because we all wanted for them to see the good in ours.

[bones-of-a-rabbit]

Free baby saga, parts 3 and 4,, :3c

Moon, to himself: don’t think abt babies. We do NOT want to have babies this is just my brain being dumb bc it’s late and I haven’t slept. I am not going to think abt babies anym

Inner Moon:

✨💕💕✨✨what if I do anyway?✨✨💕✨✨💘

Aka, Moon is diagnosed,, wITH BABY FEVER HAHAAAA

(First part here!)

(Final part here!)

[ddollfface]

𝐅𝐚𝐫 𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐇𝐨𝐦𝐞

𝙇𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙎𝙞𝙘𝙠!𝙎𝙖𝙞𝙡𝙤𝙧 𝙭 𝙎𝙚𝙡𝙠𝙞𝙚!𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧

"I have sea foam in my veins, I understand the language of the waves."

Trigger Warnings; Small mention of S/A (not described), reader being a bad mom (?), gore (mention of fatty tissue, blood, etc.) lovesick behavior, kidnapping, reader makes a grand escape, bad writing, I just wrote this for shits and giggles lol If I missed anything, then please let me know ♡

Shit!

Shit!

Shit!

You swore that it was here! There was nowhere else it could be; where could he put it? There weren't too many places one could hide something, especially in such a small Lighthouse. Rummaging through the wooden chest, your chipped nails scrapped against the splintered wood, gasping when a secret compartment opened, revealing it.

Your coat.

Yes! There it was! You scooped up the fluffy cloth, holding it up to your nose, and breathing the scent of it. It still smelt the same. The scent of fresh salt and cold air filled your senses, filling you with a sense of contentment. Biting your lip, you hold back tears as you hold the coat as close as possible, rubbing your face into the fluffy material.

The coat was still in good shape, with some small stains here and there, but overall it was perfectly fine. The coat was still a smooth, grayish-blue leather material, completely worn in, and fitted you quite nicely. It felt the same, smelt the same, and appeared to be the same. It's been so long since you've held it in your arms! You felt as if this was the reunion of your lifetime! Why have you been parted for so long-

"Mama?" You jumped, whipping around to face the doorway, grasping your hands around the coat, caught off guard by the soft voice. Your eyes met with ones of the same color, ones so bright and full of confusion.

Your heart clenched.

"What's that, Mama?" The boy pointed a chubby finger at the coat, which you quickly hid behind your back, giving the boy a soft smile. You quickly stood, making sure to keep the coat out of sight, and approached the boy.

You brought the boy close, kneeling in front of him, and rubbing the back of his head with a shaky smile, "Why are you awake? It's really late, Bubba..."

The boy's lips pursed, bringing the stuffed seal close to his chest. The sight of the stuffy made your pupils dilate and lips taught into a frown, but you resisted the urge to snatch the stuffy from the child's arms and rip it to shreds.

"Sorry, Mama... The thunder is scary, Mama," The boy's lip wobbled, and his rosy cheeks grew puffy. You sighed, picking the little boy up and holding him on your hip, straightening out his gray nightgown. Ruffing his blonde hair, you pressed a kiss on his forehead, attempting to not be repulsed at the sight of the child.

It's not his fault, you remind yourself, and you repeat it like a mantra. It's not his fault. It's not his fault. How could it be his fault?

There's no way this innocent, little boy could be a fault for this. He was just brought into this world without any will, brought into a family filled with unreciprocated love. So, because of this, you must push through and treat him with love, something he deserves.

But God is it hard, especially when he has his hair, his skin, and his face. He looks so much like him, practically the spitting image of him. The only thing you two shared was eyes, but even then they were in his shape. Even when away from him, you cannot escape him, a mini him staring right back at you.

How horrible are you? To where you cannot look at a little boy without anything but hate? How can you look at this little boy and not see your son? You birthed him, grew him from the womb, and fed him from your body. What more of a connection could you have with someone? And yet you cannot give him the time of day, refusing to play outside, denying him any attention a normal mother would give.

All of this was for today, the day you'd regain your dignity, freedom, and personhood, away from the monster you dare call your husband. You mustn't let the little boy grow close to you because it'll make parting all the worse. You need to be able to separate, and you have to carry that strength with you now. You must do so just so you can reunite with your brethren once agian.

It's been so long since you've seen them, and you miss them dearly so. Your throat tightens as you adjust the boy on your hip, leading him toward the stairs before setting him down. Huffing out a soft sigh, you tuck a blonde curl behind his ear, ignoring the dreadful thump of your heart and calling of your heavy consciousness.

You have to do this. If not for family, but for yourself.

"There's nothing to be scared of, Bubba. Now, go back upstairs and tuck yourself in," You kneeled down, softly speaking to the little boy, who just nodded, giving you one last hug.

"Mmk, Mama. Night night..." The boy whispers, grabbing your cheeks with his small hands, and pressing a clumsy kiss on your cheek, making you chuckle. Pressing your forehead against the little boy's, you lift up his bangs, just to press a kiss onto his forehead and bring him into a hug.

The little boy wraps his short arms around your middle, pressing his face against your chest, his lip wobbling. Racking your fingers through his blonde curls, you hold back the tears that pool in your eyes, knowing that you just have to pull through. You were so close, you can't let this go to waste.

"Alright, go to sleep, Baby," You pull away from the little boy, giving him one last smile before ushering him up the stairs. Waving at him, you cringe as he turns his head around, (E/C) eyes peering back into your matching ones. It's as if he knows something amiss, judging and observing you like it's your last moments together. And how correct he is.

You have to hurry.

.

.

.

The rain was heavy, beating against your back, and soaking through your thine nightgown. The raindrops began to blur your vision, or is it your tears? At this point, it's impossible to tell.

pitter. patter.

Your nose so cold it's red and about to fall off, cheeks matching in shade. Your hair is wet and sticks to your jawline, framing your head like a halo. Fingers scraped raw, blood smeared across your smooth skin, and seeping into the fluffy coat that is now matted with blood and water.

It's impossible to see where you're going, but you know deep in your heart which trail leads to where. The smell of salt and fresh dirt guides you to your home: the ocean.

pitter. patter.

Holding the coat close to your chest, careful not to drop it. If you lose it, this would all be for nothing, and you'd be dragged back to the hell you called home. The twigs and forest brush roll under your feet, causing your footing to be loose and inconsistent, warning you to be cautious.

Though it's been years since you've been outside, you know from your heart that you'll make it - you have to. The ocean is welcoming you with open arms. You can feel the way the wind is pushing you faster. How the waves are calling out to you, like a siren song ushering you to the depth of the sea. Or how the trees show the path toward the sandy gate.

pitter, patter.

You're almost there - you can feel it. Your feet are carrying you faster than you thought possible, but you choose not to focus on such things, instead, focusing on getting home. There's no way he should know, you've planned too long.

You can see it, the taste of freedom seeping onto your tongue. Quickly rushing to put on the coat, you sprint across the sand, relishing on how you sink into the grainy ground. The comfort of nostalgia causes you to slow and almost miss the sound.

pitter, patter?

Huh, how long has that sound been on loop, constantly playing in the background? You've been so caught up, that you hadn't noticed it, assuming it was just rain. Before you could even get another word, to even think of turning around, you're tumbling towards the ground.

A face full of sand is the last thing you expected, but quickly forgot about. The burning sensation of torn flesh and oozing blood welcomed the disheartening feeling of mind-rotting pain.

Quickly jerking your head to look behind you, you're greeted by the sight of a harpoon lodged into the back of your thigh. It felt as if your leg was getting torn apart, tissue and fat getting spread and ravished by the rusty head of the harpoon. It snagged and dug into your skin, causing blood and bile to creep up your throat. The sigh ungodly. You felt lightheaded and hadn't even realized that you were slowly being dragged away from the ocean.

The tugging of the metal head of the harpoon caused you to call out, a silent scream leaving your lips and flooded tears pooling down your cheeks. The wet sand rubbed against your body in a way that was no longer nostalgic, but torturous. The tiny grains smothered in your hair, itching your scalp. The sand absorbed the thick, scarlet liquid, causing blood to pool around your legs and create a stain in the sand as you were dragged back to him.

And there he was, the man you called your husband. His golden curls were a little frizzy but seemed to glow under the silver lighting of the moon. His skin tan and layered with scars, along with chiseled muscles that contracted with every harsh tug at the rope, connecting you to him. If you weren't in your current circumstances, you would've thought he was an angel of some sort, but you knew that was far from the truth.

And his eyes gleamed with bloodlust, completely bloodshot and fanatic. Eyes that were once a beautiful hazel, swirls of brown and green that resembled that of the grown we walk on and trees we lie under, are now churning with a possessive monster ready to break free and ravage you.

He was no longer the sailor you had grown to love and admire, instead, he was now a hunter, a man you should've swam from the moment you saw him on that pier. But how could you have known?

He looked anything but harmful, more similar to a young babe than a possessive maniac. Who could blame you for being attracted to him, especially after he had helped you after your tail got caught in some mangy nets? His hands were so delicate, making sure to be careful not to hurt such skin.

Though he didn't know you weren't what you seemed, he still treated you as a living, breathing being, when most would've deserted you, or sold you on the market. After all, humans seemed to deem seals good for soup.

You thought you could trust him, and that's why you revealed yourself to him, exposing your identity as a selkie. If only you had known...

If only you had known what was lying behind that charming smile was a possessive and delusional man waiting for the right woman.

If only you had known that though he had a pretty face, the prettiest face you've ever seen on a human, it wasn't something to be fooled by, instead, you should've swum back in the ocean the moment he freed you from that damned net.

If only you had known that he'd take away your coat, stealing it in your sleep, pretending it got swept up in the ocean. That he'd help you get it back, just come up to his Lighthouse. He'll help you.

If only you hadn't trusted that pretty smile, taking his hand, and going up to his Lighthouse.

If only you had known that he'd take advantage of you, ripping your clothes off, and taking your cries as an invitation for more. Maybe if you had known about the human anatomy, you would've fought a little more and screamed a little louder.

But you didn't. You didn't know, and now you are being dragged back into the hands that stole you from your people, your home, and stole your life, trapping you with a baby boy.

Now, he whispers in your ear, cradling your head as sobs rack throughout your body. Your leg is bloody and torn, no recovery in sight. Tears of shame, guilt, and rage build up inside of you, so you pound your fists against his chest, screaming at him through the sobs.

His large hands just hold you in place, letting you tire yourself out, humming sweet nothings into your ear as he slowly weaves your coat from your hands. Quickly picking you up, careful not to touch your injured leg, he begins his walk home, leaving gore in his wake.

The ocean, your only witness, cries for its loss. The daughter it once had, who was so close to coming home, was now snatched away by the hands of an evil man. The tides rise, ridding the sand of the gore and blood that once was.

Closing your eyes, the last thing you see is the calming waves reaching out for you.

"Honey, it's time to go home."

[parvulous-writings]

Hello! Could I request Gale x Fem Selkie! Reader

Warnings: None, in the explicit sense? Can be read as platonic or romantic!

Notes: Hello hello!! I've done these ones just as headcanons, but would happily do a whole oneshot of Selkie!Reader x Gale if you so wished! I've left a few bits (such as the fine details of a selkie's origins, and the reader's early life) quite vague so you can imagine your own origins! I hope this is okay! My requests are currently open, though limited! My pinned post (found here) contains both a list of characters I write for, and a masterlist!  Original character list - please request for these too!

Gale is a massive nerd, we know this. So, he probably knows a fair bit about various fantastical creatures, even if it's not the main focus of his studies. He doesn't really pick up on you being a selkie right away - you are, of course, beautiful, in a nearly unnatural way, but Gale didn't make it to be much more than that. Your beauty.

You carry your skin close to you when you travel with the others, typically it is tucked away in the bottom of your pack, out of sight of prying eyes and sticky fingers, so it is a while before Gale even stumbles upon it.

It's upon the budding of your relationship with him that he happens to see the skin in your tent, he launches into inquisition mode - not meaning any harm by it of course, but unable to help himself. "I never took you for a furrier, you know." He'd muse, holding the skin carefully in his hands, admiring it closely. "This is masterful work though - hardly a tatter upon it! Is it a family craft, or tradition, perhaps?" He asks, and you just... Stare at him. All the questions that he has for you are not at all like what you had imagined, it didn't even seem like he had made the connection between you and the fur yet. You carefully skirt around the question, telling him you "Couldn't quite recall" where you had gotten the fur from. The answer seemed to satisfy him well enough, and thus the subject was dropped for another week or so.

That was, until Gale accidentally happened upon you, soaked on the river-side, peeling the fur away from yourself that it finally clicked for him. "By the Gods!" His exclamation had alerted you to the fact that you were being watched. You move your hands to try cover yourself, and Gale quickly turns his head away from you, averting his eyes. "M-my apologies... I was coming here to bathe myself, as a matter of fact... It was not my intention to intrude." He tells you, holding up his hands in front of him as if this would emphasise his point. There's a moment of tense silence between you both - from you because you weren't sure what Gale was now going to do with this information, and from Gale because he didn't know what to say to you to make you feel comfortable. "I shall... Find a different bend of the river... Apologies, again-" Gale sputters, before hurrying off.

It was not exactly a reaction that you had expected. You had braced yourself for a thousand different questions - your origins, your early life, your 'affliction' he may have called it. But, you had received no such bombardment. It was incredibly unusual.

That was only because the questions were to come later. After he had gotten over the initial shock of figuring out you were a selkie, by literally seeing you shed your skin, his curiosity could not help but rear it's head. It was fascinating to him, and he was hooked to your every word as you tried to explain about yourself the best you could - where you had come from, how you had lived prior to the Illithid tadpole now in your head, and how important the sealskin was to you.

"So when I held the fur in my hands..." He started, a contemplative furrow in his brow, "Were you... Nervous?" You take a moment to consider your answer. "A little bit... I was more shocked, than nervous, in truth... I trust you, Gale - I know for a fact that you wouldn't have taken something of mine." You tell him, and he nods slowly. You were right, he never would have taken it from you - even without the knowledge of how closely you were bound to it. It wasn't his to take.

For the rest of your journey together, Gale's attitude towards you doesn't change a bit - you hadn't changed, you just didn't need to hide that side of yourself anymore. He helped to shield you from the others until you were ready to tell them, helping to keep an eye on your precious sealskin, and providing cover and excuses for you when you wanted to take a dip in a river, or off the edge of the coast. You grow very close with him, despite the circumstances of your adventure, and never tire of his company, just as he never tires of yours! You share your knowledge together, and tell each other tales of your youths.

[aerkame]

Welcome Home Finfolk AU Headcanons Part 1

Just some headcanons on the characters so I can come back to this later for writing/reference. And a bit of a tease for some people eager for Finfolk/selkie stuff. Warnings: Implied kidnapping. It's kind of a given considering that in Orkney folklore finfolk often kidnap people they like/love.

Original post:

(I guess this takes place in a puppet world? Like humans are just humanoid puppets so it's not as confusing to make Welcome Home characters complete puppets but finfolk versions.)

Eddie Dear:

A complete sweetheart of a captain that's a bit clumsy. While Wally can steer the waters himself, he'd much rather have Eddie be the captain on most of their ships, having found that the much larger man knows the waters better than himself and Home.

Eddie is so sweet that most don't even notice the unusual way his felt skin slightly changes colors when it rains, the small finned ears tucked under his captain's hat, or the tiny teal scales that grow under his arms when he's stressed. Maybe he's a lot more clever than people realize. Using that sweetness of his to distract others from what's happening...nah, he's just a clumsy sweet guy, right?

Instead of having shipments in, it's usually Eddie that helps bring in most of what the island has when it comes to strange items. They're still a bit stuck in the 70s so sometimes Eddie brings back boatloads of lost shipments with up to date everyday items.

Wally Darling:

Wally Darling is a true finman at heart. He keeps all those he is close with very close on this island he made so long ago with his and Home's own magic. He may or may not have helped kidnap a few of the neighbors with Home and others, bringing them here.

Sometimes Wally will find himself in looser fitting clothing on warmer days. But usually he keeps a suit worn with his pompadour being well-kept. Everything at Home must be perfect.

Unlike most finmen, his powers have gone far beyond what is normal. While most can control the ocean waters through waves and small rain showers, Wally has little to no trouble making storms, hurricanes, giant whirlpools, and changing the very currents of the ocean to his favor.

Making Home was probably his greatest feat yet. Creating an island wasn't uncommon for his kind. But creating a giant, living, sentient island hidden within a vale of sorts in the middle of the ocean that not even other finmen could reach was something otherworldly. It's like he's creating a whole new world.

He will sometimes crash planes and ships far out in the ocean if they so much as get too close to the world they reside in. Of course he ensures that Eddie, Howdy, or Barnaby goes over to the crash sites to wipe away any memory of where the passengers have been, just in case...and maybe he should start up a rough storm or two in that area for good measure. You can never be too sure.

Of course Wally never expects anyone to actually make it to the shores of Home, but if someone ever did, well...that would be quite the impressive feat! You'd have to not only get past the others sensing your presence in their waters (coupled with oncoming storms), but also get past the vale their world resides in.

Truly, Wally just wants everyone in Home to be able to live happy and free here. He often creates more and more islands and small peninsulas along with the others just to explore and have fun. And they do have fun and joy, almost everyday! Though he needs to slow down on the island-making, he often gets lost on his own creations sometimes.

Barnaby B.Beagle:

At first glance he's just a big ol' fluffy dog with a big personality, but when it rains or when water is doused on the guy? He really tends to grow in size.

Unlike the others, Barnaby tends to have a completely different form when he lets loose. Instead of scales, he grows smooth and cool skin, and instead of pointy fin ears he grows side gills and one large triangular fin on his lower back. (Poppy often needs to help fix his clothes for this reason.) All this topped with giant rows of sharp teeth. Very shark-like indeed.

Due to his size and sharp features, it's no wonder that Barnaby often accompanies Eddie or Howdy when taking care of people that are getting too close to Home, or when someone on the mainland is getting a liiiittle too close to pinpointing where Home's vale is. You could say he's a bit like a giant guard (shark?)dog.

Sometimes Frank wonders if Barnaby is even a finman like the others or if he's some kind of hybrid...or possibly a subspecies?

This big guy is friendly and loves cracking jokes, but he isn't dumb, and he definitely isn't letting anyone hurt his family.

Wally and Barnaby go way back to when he was just a pup (get it?), having been washed up ashore on what was a lonely Home at the time. Wally was the first person to ever treat him so kindly and not judge him for how he looked in his original form. Most finmen hated it.

Barnaby so far has been the only one to ever make it to Home on his very own. Maybe it takes something special to get here. Or maybe it was Home who invited him that time and not Wally's invitation.

Frank Frankly:

Quite frankly the most nerdiest guy at Home. Not only is Frank's house neatly organized with specimens of insects everywhere, but that has evolved to specimens of fish and many books on mythical sea creatures, something that started all thanks to Eddie and Home.

Frank remembers his first time here clear as day. He was so skeptical that finfolk were real or that any mythical creature was real. It took a lot of convincing and quite a few magic tricks to finally get him to open up his eyes about that.

The man has been obsessed with the life that resides in the ocean since he first learned about finfolk. You could ask him about any, and I mean ANY sea creature and he'd probably know everything about it.

One of his keen interests is that of finfolk and selkies. They had similar traits but were vastly different in many ways. Finfolk he could research on however long he wanted considering he was living with them. But unlike finfolk, selkies weren't seen as much anymore. Stars, selkies were even considered on the verge of going extinct according to other finfolk and sea creatures, something about selkies getting their coats stolen too often? Frank would shake his head at that thought. Some people were just too cruel.

Sometimes Frank will feel a pang of loneliness when studying on his own, but usually Eddie is there to cheer him up, or Julie, even if she was a bit too much.

Both Julie and himself are the only residents at Home that are not finfolk, just some ordinary people that found their way here, though they don't remember how or when...

You(Suprise short fic! Hahahaha-):

There was something off about this part of the ocean. You have never ventured this far out before, always staying close to coasts and peninsulas, but it was like you were just drawn to a force here.

You perched yourself onto the small deck of the tiny sailboat you owned and crossed another spot out on the map. There was nothing here either, just like the past few miles you checked. No islands or signs of land in sight...and yet you could sense that something was indeed there. Call it an instinct, but your body was refusing to leave you alone until you satisfied your curiosity.

Looking down into the deep waters, you debated on going back down there to take a second look...nah. You were still soaked and the fur would take forever to dry off again. That, and the skies continued to darken as if it would rain any second now. Actually, a nice swim and a quick look seemed like a good idea.

The fur hood slipped over your head as you buckled the inside of your jacket to keep everything secured, the last thing you needed was a current to take away your seal jacket, you put too much time and effort into making your seal fur a real set of clothes.

You jumped in as soon as thunder roared right behind you, feeling the tingling feeling of bristles and fur wrapping around your felt skin. There wasn't supposed to be a storm yet...

The currents began to change, almost pulling you towards the place of interest from earlier, it was far too strong for you to swim against even as your flippers swished back and forth as hard as they could. Before you could turn your back to face another direction, rough waters ripped your body from left to right, up, and down, until everything felt too dizzy to gather your surroundings. Your vision was such a blur that you did not notice the sailboat you were once on begin to sink down towards you. A long metal object suddenly made contact with your head and everything went black.

I had this finfolk-selkie hybrid OC for the longest time and every time I looked at selkie OCs no one seemed to make it into normal-ish clothing. Like imagine being a selkie in the modern world. Having a seal coat turned into the softest hoodie or jacket would be the best thing ever. You could take it anywhere with you in plain sight and no one would even know.

[gildui]

going through old art only to find 'sick of his shit!selkie' & 'mildy confused, equally enthused fisherman!ghost'

[yandere-fetish]

So I've been thinking of the Omegaverse lately and I can't quit thinking about adopting the entire fantasy trope around it.

Like, for example, just imagine...

An Alpha Siren who happens to discover its Omega Reader while there's a cruise ship above, which leads Alpha Siren to follow the ship to port while attempting to gather Omega Reader's attention, stalking you from a distance, leaving little love trinkets everywhere you go, before finally kidnapping you and dragging you need into the dark abyss.

Or reverse it— An Alpha Reader hunting down their Omega Siren, searching the ends of the Earth, diving in vast oceans, countlessly losing your Omega Siren after a single glance, only for your Omega Siren to come to you, half laying on the deck, wagging their tail desperately, wantonly begging for their Alpha Reader to impregnate them.

An Alpha Dragon that captures treasures in their vast abode while waiting on their perfect omega, then happens to discover Omega Reader gathering herbs. We can even turn you into an Omega Witch. Captured by the dragon, fighting for your life, even when your heat kicks in...

Or maybe an Omega Dragon that sneaks up on Alpha Witch Reader in the forest one day and refuses to leave your side. Whines like a puppy, guards like a dog, purrs like a cat, but is as horny as a rabbit when it comes to its heat.

How about an Alpha Naga hunting in the forest, searching for prey for their tribe, then comes across Omega Reader collecting samples, safeguarding the forest, or whatever else you may be doing for planet earth, and takes the chance to observe a new species before falling quickly. Alpha Naga ends up causing your premature heat, kidnapping you from your tent, and hiding you deep in a cave. Your heat gets the better of you but that doesn't mean you won't put up a fight.

Or an Omega Naga that you find as an adventurer that fights you tooth and claw. After winning, maybe it just slithers away or, because of Alpha Reader's pheromones, they go into heat. Maybe you help Omega Naga through its heat intimately, or maybe they are the ones who claw at your shirt, coiling their tail around your legs, their forked tongue kissing your neck and face, even the slippery cocks that end up slipping between its orifice.

Take an Omega Selkie that adores the shore and while swimming to the surface, catches wind of your Alpha pheromones, which leads to the Omega Selkie searching everywhere for you, discovering your swimming form scuba diving or just swimming leisurely, they end up playing with you in their seal form before revealing their true self when you have to leave. It's pretty hard to turn down a tempting and innocent creature that's leaking for you to sate their desires.

Or an Alpha Selkie who dominated the waves, blending in with humans while protecting the seas, they also dare to sift through the human omegas before coming across you, which leads to your rejection and their perseverance until you end up being emotionally and physically attached. Now you’ve got no where to run and no where to hide with Alpha Selkie breathing down your neck and following you at every turn.

Maybe try an Alpha Harpy bleeding from a wound in a fight and comes across you, an Omega Bird Hybrid, before passing out, to which you take them in and clean them up, feeding them, nursing them back to health. Alpha Harpy refuses to leave at the end, declaring themselves your mate, grabbing many courting gifts to give you, nonstop attempts to mate you, aiding you in building your nest and even collecting your meals.

Or maybe an Omega Harpy that is in constant need of affection but refuses themselves from having any contact with it due to their abused childhood, thus leading Alpha Reader, who has Omega Harpy as a pet, to care for their needs, to learn more about habits and behaviors, before attempting to try anything, which leads to multiple disputes that ends bloody for Alpha Reader before you honestly takes care of Omega Harpy through their heat, platonically, thus ending up with them falling for you.. but more slowly and with caution.

We could try an Alpha Cereberus Pack that has lived for thousands of years, most of them mateless and horny, until one night where they meet their perfect little Omega, you, a Cat Hybrid. They're sent to guard the demon that's killing your neighbors, all the while watching you, individually, invisibly, before the demon comes after your Omega Cat Hybrid Reader— which sends Alpha Cereberus Pack feral and ends up taking the demon's life and disappearing with you...

Or an Omega Cereberus Pack that have been abandoned by their last owners or their parents (bc that's the way of life what cruel abusive demons do) and are starved, on the brink of death, when innocent Alpha Cat Hybrid Reader finds them in the wet rain before taking them safely home. You take good care of the Omega Cereberus Pack, even as they snap and growl at your every move, but eventually, they grow fond of you, growing like wild weeds, and, out of nowhere, they've become adults, begging in heat one day.

Maybe enjoy an Omega Arachne that is super shy and scared of others that are not of their kind due to the screams of terror when coming in contact with someone else. Omega Arachne who's lived alone for a few hundred years, succumbing to loneliness.. then they caught a whiff of Alpha Reader's pheromones and suddenly went into a force heat, which causes your rut to come into play, but not until you've stumbled upon their web (in a cave, in a forest, or maybe on a mountain).

Or an Alpha Arachne that has set his eyes on you, an Omega Arachne (or maybe an Omega Lamia) since you were born, watching, waiting, for the perfect time to strike and capture you in their web. Alpha Arachne designs a web for the upcoming mating season and delivers many prey of all kinds for the honeymoon, and even if they don't end up catching your attention, they take matters into their own legs and kidnap you for their own. After a clutch or two, they know you'll be fine.