#give elia a season | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

batsplat · 9 months ago

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tumblr user batsplat i need you to know that your work for the motogp community is appreciated beyond measure, thank you so much for your absolutely incredible effort!!!

thank you!! that's very sweet! lemme tell you my favourite bit of extremely low level valentino beef. fair warning: this is extremely minor. it's not that serious. I just like old drama

so you know the 2006 season, right, where valentino actually got on pretty well with all the other title contenders? depending on how you want to look at it, there were 4-5 contenders that year... capirossi's a bit marginal whether he counts as a 'title contender'. he was tied leader of the standings after six rounds, but then was involved in a horror crash at catalunya that halted his momentum. the crash was caused by his teammate sete and there's a decent chance capirossi would have been champion without this race. his eventual third place in the championship standings was due to him bouncing back to claim a strong string of results late in the season

here's a few more photos of that crash:

the other four contenders were nicky hayden, valentino, marco melandri and dani pedrosa. to give you a sense of what that title fight looked like, here were the standings after eleven out of seventeen rounds:

obviously valentino was a title contender given he nearly won the whole thing - but, yeah, he was very much on the back foot that entire season. so of those other four contenders, valentino got on very well with capirossi (who valentino had been a fan of as a kid and had met when he was eleven years old) and with hayden (who valentino had helped with the transition from superbike when hayden became his rookie teammate at repsol honda in 2003). he was reasonably friendly with pedrosa and had a long-standing friendship with melandri, if one that seems to have cooled off when they became premier class rivals (according to melandri in any case). you do have to say, the good vibes are a little unusual as valentino title fights go... it's a very chaotic very exciting season that has quite a few excellent valentino performances as he attempts to bounce back from all manner of ill fortune - but no realbeef. it really is a title fight mostly fought in good spirits. the most significant drama between any of these contenders was the hayden/pedrosa estoril crash that very nearly cost hayden the title. from broadbent's 'ring of fire' about the scenes after the race:

in the end dani was bailed out by valentino's crash in valencia (though a lot of american fans did not move on from the incident); it was by far the most significant on-track clash he had with hayden in their years together at honda, at a time when the vibes in that team were *checks notes* not great. hayden said all was forgiven - if with the caveat that he didn't know how he would've felt if he hadn't won the title. but, y'know, heartwarming: valentino is part of a title fight where he is not involved in the biggest beef of the year (the other title fight this is true of was 1998, another iconic season)

there is however one other rider who played an important role in the 2006 title fight - one who thinks that his relationship with valentino was affected by the events of that year. first bit of context: the season opener at jerez went disastrously wrong for valentino at the very first corner, when toni elias rode into him and caused him to crash. that jerez crash was one of those classic first corner incidents that could've easily been a lot uglier, and some riders quite narrowly avoid valentino

kind of started the season off the way it was going to go on, really. anyway, here's valentino reacting to the crash, and also elias coming over to him post-race to apologise:

elias ended up finishing 4th, while valentino picked the bike up to finish 14th. here's what valentino had to say post-race:

"We knew this was going to be a difficult race but maybe not so difficult!" said Rossi, who had been battling chatter problems for much of the weekend and qualified just ninth on the grid. "I saw Toni come up on the inside and he hit me; this is racing and these things happen. "I have known Toni for many years and he is a good rider. He apologised to me after the race so I told him not to worry - only to remember to brake next time and if it is too late then to hit another bike instead of me!"

great line, fairs

by the way, this incident allowed casey to get such a good start to his rookie season, in a race where he ended up finishing sixth:

I made a great start off the line and our luck improved further in the first corner, when Toni Elías got his braking markers completely wrong, took out Valentino Rossi and opened up a gap for me to dive through. I was sixth by the end of the first lap and up to fourth two laps later, just behind Nicky Hayden in third.

and there's probably some symbolism there if you dig deep enough. elias was also involved in the eventual outcome of the 2006 motogp season in another way (from the vale race recs post):

anyway, moving on from the 2006 season for now, there's a couple more on-track interactions we might as well rattle through. the two of them had quite a tense coming together at turkey 2007, the third race of the season and around the time valentino was coming to realise the casey/ducati combination was going to be a real problem that season. the fight between elias and valentino didn't have much of an effect on valentino's race given how he had some nicely fucked up tyres (bit of a theme that year), but that didn't stop valentino from being irritated post-race:

Elias took second from Rossi with a move down the inside at the final complex, but both riders nearly came off their bikes as they touched during the pass. While Elias maintained second to the flag, Rossi later fell to 10th after developing tyre issues. "I'm very disappointed with Elias because he was very unfair with me," Rossi told Italia1 television. "Obviously we're all racing, but he had already overtaken me, and when he came on my side he tried to push me out and make me fall on purpose. I don't think that's fair behaviour. There are other words than 'unfair' coming up in my mind, but I'll leave them to the imagination. "He had already tried to come to apologise another time after the chequered flag. I'll say no more, I owe him twice, so I'll see him in China. I think he has a rather unfair way of riding with everyone. He had already overtaken me, so there was no need to throw me out. We know these things among riders. So now we know, and we'll know how to behave next time we meet him." Elias shrugged off the incident. "These things happen in racing and I'm happy with today's result," he said. "The way I drive may look risky but I feel comfortable with it and I will carry on like this."

at this point, I do just have to go on a brief tangent to present my 'casey complains about toni elias' compilation

exhibit a: some exciting solidarity between casey and valentino

exhibit b: casey saying elias is continually stuck on his "arse-end"

exhibit c: peace talks held at casey's motorhome

definitely some fun lines in this, like "I think casey has problems with everybody and not only me". ouch. this does help show elias was just one of those guys who a lot of riders had minor beef with... you know how it is sometimes (incidentally, elias was also a talent linked to alberto puig, so they met quite young before casey was a full time grand prix rider)

the other minor on-track incident between valentino and elias I wanted to include is one where I haven't found any post-race reporting or comments from either rider, so, again, clearly not that big a deal. still found it funny so. it's sachsenring 2008, casey has just won the last two races, and he's well on his way to winning his third consecutive one after dani crashed out from a massive lead. it's raining, which is why the whole field is super spread out. valentino is actually riding a pretty decent race, but his problem is he's coming back from seventh on the grid and casey started on pole, with fairly predictable repercussions for their respective race. still, in those conditions it's always worth trying to put as much pressure as possible on the leader, and valentino does end up closing in until he's around five seconds behind casey

which is how valentino ends up attempting to lap elias - while the commentators chat about how valentino very much does not want to be taking any risks, not with toni elias, not with twenty world championship points at stake ("the front of toni elias' bike knows the side of valentino rossi's bike very well, doesn't it"). elias doesn't really move to one side, which means valentino has to overtake him the regular way. after the move has been completed, he does this:

a little bit annoyed, do we think?

anyway, obviously valentino doesn't catch casey, and casey picks up his third consecutive win. worrying from valentino's perspective... especially given that there's a lot of tracks come that really seem to suit casey, including the upcoming laguna seca

to round things off. after laguna, elias shares two consecutive podiums with valentino at brno and misano - both of which valentino won after casey crashed out of the lead

when elias was unable to secure a motogp ride for 2010, he ended up switching to moto2 and becoming the first ever winner of the series. from his motogp.com profile:

He started the year as one of the title favourites in the Moto2 class, and throughout the season his wealth of experience and race-craft has shone through as he claimed seven wins, including four in a row over the summer period. His characteristic “hang-on” riding style and charming personality has won him millions of fans across the globe, and the Spaniard becomes the first ever Moto2 World Champion at the age of 27.

he returned to motogp and had a troubled 2011 season, before competing in a mix of motogp and moto2 in 2012 - and his last full season in grand prix racing was 2013. I mainly bring this up so I can include this truly charming casey comment:

"one failed" casey. please

elias ends up moving stateside to compete there instead. so, he still runs into motogp riders at austin - which he brings up in a 2020 interview, while accusing valentino pf still being bitter over 2006:

“Being able to beat Valentino [for victory] has only happened to me once in my life,” he told DAZN. "Michelin brought me a new tyre on the Saturday and I managed to improve my pace by seven-tenths and fight for victory. "I thanked Michelin for the help, although I was very angry when I discovered that this rubber, with a softer casing, was the one used by the best riders throughout the season and they only gave it to me in the penultimate race of the year. "When I meet Valentino - I see him every year in Austin - I can see that he still has [Estoril 2006] stuck in his heart, he has not forgiven me… It's over, it's time to be friends, but it is not possible. He is so competitive, he will never forgive me!"

these comments were put to valentino, to which he said the following:

"When I met Toni Elias in the United States, because now he runs there, there were only positive moments,” he told a video chat with BT Sport. “We have a good relationship and I'm not angry with him because he beat me in Portugal, but because he knocked me out in first corner during the Spanish Grand Prix. “In that season, Jerez was the first race of the year and immediately made me lose points and probably also the championship."

obviously, this is a joke, and valentino is allowed to make those occasionally. it's also probably a joke that has just a little bit of truth to it. who knows how valentino feels about toni elias these days, whether he really was still acting coldly towards elias during austin trips because of a grudge that dates back to 2006. but, y'know, it's also kind of fine to hold grudges for petty reasons sometimes... I'll say it: I support valentino's god-given right to just find some of these guys kinda annoying. not everything has to be an epic feud. sometimes guys just have a little mental list of past transgressions where each individual item is kinda small and silly but they're also literally never going to forget about each of them and they haven't forgiven anything even if it's been well over a decade... you know how it is

#elias very much has the vibe of a 'has become a bit of an uncharitable in-joke in valentino's inner circle' level of grudge #i looooooove the photo of valentino with his visor up looking at elias asking for forgiveness ... it's so evocative idk #2006 truly one of the all time great seasons. the only thing it's missing is a feud imo #brr brr #casey stoner #//#batsplat responds #i'm way faster writing essay length posts than dealing with asks that are just compliments... i do appreciate them i swear #quite a few of them are just sitting in my inbox... they do cheer me up. so here's a random story as thanks y'know #anyway read the elias/casey stuff and picture in your mind's eye marc giving casey the pecco treatment #genuinely would've given casey an aneurysm. they really are the ships that pass in the dark of generational feuds #//ht

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mandalhoerian · 11 days ago

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(1) 🦭 signed, sealed, delivery pending...

Ferrying passengers and cargo between the mainland and the outlying islands is your family's livelihood. Life at sea holds its surprises, yet the routines remain reassuring — docking and departing, tourist antics, more docking and departing...

And there's the seal of course — the local celebrity trailing the ferry each day as though he's on the payroll. You think it might have been brought about by giving into his every whim and accidentally becoming his favorite person to be around in the process. But who would’ve guessed the truth, that he's actually a selkie who's spent years shadowing you, believing himself to be escorting his chosen bride all along?

genre: fluff, comedy | wc: 4K | read on ao3

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note: this is inspired by the giggly leg-kick inducing selkie raf fanart here by @/beechu-beechu!!!! i adore this raf to the moon and back, and all the seal videos i've watched (crybaby learns to swim) has prepared me for this moment. i hope you'll stick around for this very un-edited mini-series!

Your chest tightens pleasantly as you breathe in deep draughts of briny air, mist clinging to your tongue and lips, sharp and salty, anticipation of yet another day with your marine friend nudging your footsteps faster over slick cobblestones that echo softly against the buildings that line the street. Dawn hasn’t quite shaken off the night, draping everything in gauzy shadows, stretching slender fingers of soft gold across the rooftops, making you feel the gentle bite of the morning chill grazing your skin in a tingle of needles against your cheeks.

Ahead, the harbor emerges from the last traces of darkness, boats bobbing lazily against moorings that creak and groan like old friends in conversation as dockworkers shuffle around, silhouettes bent under cargo, and in comfortable and hushed chatting somehow overtaken by the screams of seagulls. Among them, your family's ferry waits patiently at its berth, outline illuminated by the muted brilliance of the rising sun — a scene so delicately composed you think it might’ve been painted by Edward Hopper himself each and every time you witness it.

“Hey hey, Elias!” you call, raising a hand to greet the old fisherman, his weather-creased face somehow aging a couple more years while he picks through a tangle of nets with focus.

He lifts his head, eyes crinkling fondly beneath his salt-stained cap. “Ah, mornin’, lass!"

"Brought something with me today. I want to see if it helps with the bait bucket problem."

"Boy is addicted to easy pickings, I doubt that. Wee nyaff owes me half a season’s catch by now.” Elias's rumbling chuckles have warmth rumbling through your chest. “Can’t fault him for his good taste in company when he has treats delivered to his doorstep, though.”

“Nice try,” you say, your tone mock-stern, a smile tugging insistently at the corner of your mouth. “But flattery’s not buying you extra coffee today.”

His laughter echoes briefly before it’s swallowed by the soft slosh of water beneath the docks, and he peers out across the idly rolling tide, affection blending with mild irritation as his fingers start working faster.

"That's fine," he says. "Having you back is enough. My poor boat needed a break from all that terrorizing."

You laugh at that with an embarrassed, heavy heart.

Six months have melted away since you traded your graduation cap for the familiar sight of gulls wheeling above the docks. You’d returned home carrying equal parts eagerness and obligation, drawn back into your father’s orbit, hoping, perhaps, to ease some of the burdens he’d never openly admit were weighing him down.

Leaving for university felt like stepping aboard a departing train, thrilling and dizzying as it rattled toward a glittering unknown named the future. City life was a constant hum you were ill-prepared for — nights brimming with noise, friendships blazing bright but fleeting as sparks — but somewhere along the way, that excitement quietly dimmed, and in its absence grew a tender longing, whisper-soft, for a simpler past, back when your world was defined by the comforting cadence of the ferry schedule and the friendly bustle of seasonal visitors.

So, under the spotlight of shame, coming home felt oddly disjointed at first, as though stepping back into a photograph that had stubbornly refused to fade, preserved, untouched by time — the docks still busy at dawn, fishermen hauling in their catches, schoolkids racing, backpacks swinging wildly, the scent of fresh bread spilling from the bakery door at exactly eight sharp every morning. Life moved here in steady, predictable rhythms, each beat familiar enough to lull you into comfort, yet somehow magnifying a subtle, restless niggling deep within your chest.

Because beneath the comforting yet burdensome familiarity that's a bed of nails at night, you can't shake the quiet sensation that returning was more retreat than progress.

You feel it most keenly when whispers trail in your wake, pointed glances exchanged between curious neighbors whose mouths curve around your name like a secret. They wonder aloud — in voices just low enough to feign politeness — about how university might have shaped you, or perhaps, more poignantly, left you unchanged.

You can feel their quiet amusement, the delight in the idea of the girl who once dreamed beyond the island now anchored firmly back in place, tethered once more to the ferry ropes and her father’s stubborn pride.

Not that Dad would ever breathe a word of needing assistance. Pride is his quiet strength and silent curse, a barrier more solid than the island's rocky coastline. You'd notice him sometimes, catching fleeting moments when he believes no one was watching — rubbing the weariness from his shoulders after hefting crates heavier than he’d admit, wincing just a little as his knees protest bending to secure the moorings, lips pressing into a thin, shaky line. It makes your heart twist like a wet rag, knowing his stubbornness masked vulnerability, and you'd resolved, quietly yet firmly, that your presence would stay constant until further notice.

Besides, the arrangement came with undeniable perks — a roof overhead without rent’s shadow hanging over your head, meals rich with nostalgia’s comforting flavor, and the cradle-like sway and creak of deck boards beneath your feet. It's more than enough compensation, more than fair payment, for the small surrender of uncertain ambitions to the nonjudgmental embrace of home.

By nonjudgmental you mean the weight of being allowed to take time in figuring your stuff out inbetween all the nausea-inducing sessions of admitting to yourself you're absolutely lost and don't have the slightest idea what you're going to do next.

So, yeah. Things are going great.

Still, despite everything, there’s at least one soul whose very presence smooths away any lingering doubts you had about returning home.

Well — perhaps not exactly a person.

There he is, your seal companion of years, lounging right there on the loading ramp as though he's claimed ownership of the whole harbor, proudly blocking Dad’s path as usual.

Today, Raf’s gray coat catches the clementine of the morning sun like liquid bronze, sleek fur glistening wetly, shimmering with subtle gold beneath droplets of seawater, and tiny flecks of fish scales cling stubbornly to his whiskers, the glittering remnants of his breakfast. You try your hardest to summon a stern mask of reprimand to your face — someone needs to teach this cheeky little shit some manners before either you or Dad dive headfirst into the sea because of Raf's sunbathing spot choices — but one glance into his wide, guileless eyes instantly dissolves your resolve into warm-hearted resignation.

With a mock-exasperated sigh, you lean down, scratching softly beneath his chin and tracing scratching circles in the thick fur around his neck, and Raf immediately responds, rolling onto his side and enthusiastically clapping his flippers together like an actor performing a rehearsed trick. You feel like he's Pavlov-ed you into yielding to his desires by rewarding you with cuteness, and burst into laughter, the sound rippling sweetly across the bay.

"Hi, hi, hi, my cutie pie," you coo softly in a sing-song voice that's the usual ritualistic greeting you have for him, smile brightening as you reveal a small stash of dried salmon you'd slipped into your bag. "I didn't forget my promise."

Raf perks up immediately, twisting himself with a delighted wriggle that ends with his tail thumping happily against the ramp, peering upward, eyes large and pleading, more expressive than any puppy’s. A heartbeat later, he's flopped dramatically onto his side, one flipper thrust skyward in hopeful invitation, and your cheeks ache from the persistent grin stretching across your face, but that hardly matters.

For a few joyful minutes, you're lost in a game of enthusiastic 'handshakes,' finishing with good, thorough tummy scritches before starting to feed him.

"Keep spoiling the damn thing, and he'll forget how to fish altogether," Dad grumbles affectionately as he passes by, hoisting another heavy crate bound for one of the smaller islands. You resist the urge to tease him about who’s really spoiling whom around here — considering how easily he gives in to your own puppy eyes — and instead settle for an innocent shrug, shaking the salmon bag, unaware of Raf following the notion with his neck elongating impossibly due to his unbelievable flexibility.

"Aww, come on. Look at that irresistible face! You can't help but want to give him whatever he wants!"

"Mm'begh, egg, ggeaaaghh," snorts Raf, wiggling under your pets, and even Dad is amused enough to pause and raise his eyebrows at the silly seal before moving along.

After a minute of playful petting, you pull yourself upright and stretch, wondering how many fish in the ocean smell this fresh and clean. The scent alone reminds you of childhood summer vacations splashing around, blissfully ignorant of any underlying responsibilities or cares.

"Get your fat cat off the ramp before he trips one of us up."

On cue, Raf slaps a fin theatrically against his rounded belly, releasing a snuffling grunt that sounds suspiciously like a tiny piglet rather than a seal: "Mmpppshh."

"Don't listen to him," you reassure Raf solemnly, as though comforting a wounded toddler. "You’re not fat. You're just… well-built. Big bones."

Your half-serious tone earns you several enthusiastic thwaps of Raf’s wet flippers against your calves, making you laugh despite your best efforts to feign sternness. "UUUUAAAAAAGH!!!"

With an exaggerated sigh, you give in, bending down for another pat. "Alright, easy there, handsome. Time to get to work."

Yet Raf, predictably, sees this only as an invitation for more attention, rolling onto his back once again, flippers splayed wide, belly fully exposed in expectation of being cradled like a newborn. Maybe he just wants another belly rub. Or maybe he senses how much you cherish these little interactions, savoring the warmth of mutual affection like it's as essential as breathing. It certainly seems to keep him lively and robust — after all, you’re with him far more than anyone else. There are countless days spent sharing scraps from lunch, swimming side-by-side from island to island, or teaching him new tricks as thinly-veiled excuses for play. Even Dad has remarked (with a teasing grin that you pointedly ignore) that Raf seems more like your best friend than anyone else in town.

And really, what's the harm? Spoiling a seal who clearly enjoys your company hardly counts as indulgent. It's simply mutual happiness, a comforting addiction you've willingly embraced: the velvety smoothness of dark-gray fur beneath your fingers, the hidden strength of his sleek body, the endearing little huff he gives when your windbreaker tickles his sensitive whiskers. All of it — absolutely addictive.

"You know exactly how unfair this is," you finally giggle softly, deciding to have mercy on your heart (and Raf’s belly) for now. "Come on, buddy."

"Ppppfffrrrshh."

With a playful little bounce, Raf balances briefly on his foreflippers, wobbling theatrically before launching himself gracefully off the ramp into the calm water below, sending a silvery plume everywhere, and he surfaces once, twice, three times — each pretty leap arching through the dawn-tinted waves, always teasing, never coming nearer than a safe distance of about ten feet from where you stand as he glides easily in lazy circles around the ferry’s bow, waiting patiently for you to climb aboard.

Slowly, the bleary-eyed commuters begin filing onto the ferry, faces etched with lingering dreams and shoulders hunched beneath the invisible weight of daily responsibilities, and you greet each with energetic warmth to start off the day, offering an amiable nod and a reassuring smile as they pass.

"Coffee’s fresh if you need it, other beverage options and food are available as well in the passenger cabin's buffet," you inform, trying to be a comforting balm to their early-morning weariness. Relief flashes briefly across some tired eyes as you watch people go in and out with hands that tighten gratefully around steaming cups, savoring the warmth like precious embers that ward off the chill.

The tourists follow closely behind after your usuals, pouring aboard in a cheerful wave of bright-eyed excitement as they clutch tightly to their guidebooks, maps, and expensive cameras, animated chatter in various foreign languages floods the deck and shoos away the remnants of the sleepy calm, their infectious enthusiasm cascading over you, a vibrant hum that makes even the most mundane tasks feel fresh and lively.

A woman leans eagerly across the railing, eyes searching for something in the water, but doesn't break any safety rules. She must be a seasoned traveler. "Will we see the famous seal today?"

You cast her a self-satisfied glance, nodding knowingly toward the shimmering expanse of the harbor. "I'd say the odds are pretty high, given he's basically imprinted on this ferry," you promise, and as though summoned by your certainty, Raf’s sleek form breaches the gentle swell, fur catching the sunlight in an iridescent cascade. "Right on cue — there's our local star."

A wave of delighted murmurs and gasps ripples across the deck, the enthusiastic click of cameras rising like an orchestra chef's signal as Raf begins his performance, slicing effortlessly between waves and drawing dramatic curves through the water, slowing his movements deliberately to let the ferry glide past before starting his 'warm-up laps' again. Tourists are absolutely losing it over getting to see something like this up close, every splash and proud bob of his glossy head eliciting cheers and applause that would scare every single sea animal around the perimeter. But not Raf. He's used to it by now.

"So, everyone — meet Raf!" you call out above the enthusiastic chatter, pointing with a flourish toward the glossy head bobbing in the waves. "He's friendly enough, so don't panic if he hops aboard for a visit. But keep your distance — not because he'll bite, mind you, but because he'll bruise your ego when he pretends you don't exist. He enjoys your admiration strictly from afar. He's a star like that."

A cheerful chorus of laughter, aww-ing and agreement rings out in response.

Taking advantage of the good mood, you repeat the safery regulations and warnings before you busy yourself assisting passengers, guiding them to their seats and helping stow bags in the compartments tucked beneath. You have to announce the route the ferry will take and how long the stops will be, and then, the ferry is pulling smoothly away from the docks, leaving the harbor behind and setting course over waters shimmering brilliantly beneath the sun.

Several adventurous tourists stake out prime spots along the ferry's edge, though many soon retreat inward, driven away by sharp gusts whipping their hair into tangles and peppering their faces with chilly, sharp salt spray. You stroll leisurely between the seats, pausing here and there for pleasant banter about the scenery, local delicacies, or family holidays gone awry, keeping the conversations is easy and light, and you're met with appreciative nods and smiles.

Out across the waves, sunlight dances like scattered jewels, creating diamond-dust illusions whenever a gust scatters spray towards the sky. Every now and then, Raf's sleek form slices effortlessly through the glittering waves, drawing joyful gasps and delighted pointing from your captivated audience.

To anyone coming aboard for the first time, Raf gives every impression of being charming, approachable — even sociable. A casual observer might assume he’s perfectly at ease with human company, considering how effortlessly he weaves himself into the daily bustle around the ferry, acting every bit the seasoned local soaking up attention. At first, you’d happily fallen for the same illusion, even rejoicing a bit at the idea that he was genuinely warming up to people when he started making regular appearances.

Reality, however, quickly proved less rosy. That endearing exterior was, and still is, hiding a nasty streak you could swear was deliberate, because Raf seems to delight in luring people in, coaxing them into thinking they've made a furry new friend — only to abruptly turn aloof, snubbing them with the ease of a ghoster. It’s as if he takes twisted pleasure in watching visitors wilt in disappointment, and so you've learned to offer friendly yet firm warnings upfront: admire him, laugh at his antics, but don't get too cozy or you’re bound to wind up nursing a heartbreak.

Suddenly, there are gasps among the crowd.

Well, mostly screams at first, before turning into delighted giggles.

"Look, over there!" A child shrieks with uncontainable excitement, sprinting eagerly toward the railing at the ferry’s side deck.

Your head snaps up immediately, and a laugh escapes you before you can suppress it. You didn't think your overly confident companion could still manage to surprise you after so many months spent sharing the sea.

Raf has flopped his way onto the ferry once again. Like he belongs, the cocky little shit. Raf glides gracelessly across the deck, flippers waving with dramatic flair — almost comically bird-like — until gravity decisively interrupts his attempted elegance. His slick body careens straight into a pole, skidding downward with a recoiling thud and ending the journey facedown right beside your boots.

"Oh, so gracious of you to rejoin us, Your Majesty," you tease affectionately, nudging him with your toe. "Seems like you get lazier with every trip. Keep hitching rides like this and we'll have to start charging you."

A squeaky little noise slips from Raf's throat, quickly followed by a sneeze-snort that's frankly too adorable to handle. You can't help yourself — you adore every silly, ridiculous part of this creature with those impossibly round, innocent eyes.

A couple kids swarm over as soon as they gather confidence to approach him. "Can we pet him?"

Look at that. Like clockwork.

With a gentle hand, you stroke his back, fingers gliding down his sleek, slippery fur from head to tail, quietly rewarding him for tolerating the children's excitement. "Alright, Raf is a little jumpy sometimes, so we can only pet him one at a time, okay guys? Remember, slow and gentle. Don't spook him."

One boy bravely kneels, gingerly scratching beneath Raf’s chin, giggling when Raf playfully nudges him with an almost haughty flick of his nose. Another child, more timid, holds out her palm for Raf to sniff and squeals when Raf leans forward to bump her inconspicuously enough to topple her onto her backside. The first wave of curious kids gets the others clustering around when they see there's nothing to be afraid of, and soon enough, squeals are louder than the ferry itself as parents linger close by, protective yet smiling fondly at the playful interactions between their children and the beloved seal.

You know Raf better than anyone, how he's around people — the cautious way he approaches, simultaneously wary and irresistibly curious, how those large, ink-dark eyes study every new movement with intent fascination, watchful yet hesitant as hands reach toward his glossy fur. It speaks volumes about his trust in you that he tolerates curious bombardments of attention every day, only flinching or skittering backward when a visitor's gesture becomes too swift or unpredictable for comfort, just as he's doing right now with these children (whom he's generally more tolerating towards.)

Occasionally though, someone ends up with an accidental nip — never serious enough to break skin, usually just leaving behind a faint pinkish mark and perhaps a startled expression. But thankfully, these incidents are rare, mostly limited to times when you're not around to ease his nerves and mediate with the person who just wants to pet him and most likely (always) in the wrong about boundaries of a wild animal.

And right now, some time after with the fawning of children and parents taking photos in an unofficial queue, you recognize his signals immediately — the way he blows raspberries and starts shifting restlessly — clear indications he's becoming overwhelmed. As soon as you see him squirming to indicate he'll start galumphing away from the eager crowd any second now, you swiftly intervene, encouraging nearby parents to corral their energetic kids and give him some breathing room.

"Alright, that's enough excitement for this morning!" you call cheerfully, ushering everyone back to their seats. "We'll be reaching our destination soon — please find your places and settle in."

As the passengers reluctantly scatter back to their seats and Raf bounces away to get back into the safety and comfort of the sea without even a glance back at you like he's blaming you for his peril, one woman remains beside you, her eyes lingering appreciatively on Raf as he glides effortlessly back into the waves. "You’ve trained him remarkably well."

That comment leaves an acidic residue in your stomach. You've never thought of Raf as an animal you had to tame into shape, or that he needed to be disciplined like a dog. It isn't about interfering with wildlife and never treating him as a pet either (though you also were very well aware). He simply is a companion you were grateful to have in your life that terms like training have always been demeaning to hear pertaining to him.

"Honestly, Raf is the cleverest sea critter I've ever known," you reply with genuine affection, quickly adding, "Though I wouldn't exactly call it 'training.'"

Her eyebrows lift with mild intrigue. "Oh, really?"

"Yeah, nothing formal or complicated. Mostly just treats and encouragement, getting him comfortable around us, making sure human attention is positive for him. Simple stuff," you explain, resting casually against the railing. "He took to accepting snacks from my hand on his own — didn't even have to teach him. He just picked it up naturally, even posing nicely when tourists want photos. Mind you, he used to drive fishermen mad. My friend Elias still swears Raf sabotaged his fishing line out of spite."

Her grin broadens, matching yours, and a strong gust ruffles her blonde pixie cut like fluff from a dandelion caught in the wind. "He sounds ready for the big top. You might just have yourself a circus performer," she jokes lightly. "He seems to put on a real show whenever you're around."

Your smile dims a bit — remembering those early days weren't always so playful. The faint scars on your arm still ache whenever it rains. "I wish," you admit, wrists flexing. "But Raf gets nervous fast and ultimately does his own thing. If he listens to me at all, it’s only because he's comfortable. We grew up together, more or less. Maybe he sees this place as a secondary rookery, I don't know."

She tilts her head in subtle amazement before nodding. "You must really care for him. I’ve never seen someone handle a wild animal so naturally."

"Having his trust is special," you reply earnestly, gaze drifting toward Raf as he circles alongside the ferry, rolling with the waves as though he were just another seabird drifting with the wind. "It's rare to earn that kind of bond with a creature as smart and free-spirited as him. I’m incredibly lucky."

"He really does make one want to believe in selkies," she adds, leaning back against the rail as though preparing for a lengthy conversation.

"Selkies?"

An amused little chuckle answers before words do. "Surely you've heard of them — magical beings said to be able to shapeshift between a seal and human form." Her mouth curves into an odd smile. "It's very sad actually, the stories of the female selkies. They can shed their sealskins at will and take on a human form, but if they lose their coats, they have no choice but to stay ashore forever." She lowers her eyelashes, softening her features. "And even worse — according to lore, some men claim the skins and force the poor women who already have their mates into marriage."

"That's horrible," you reply, swallowing hard. Just thinking of Raf being bound to anyone in such a violent way makes your fists clench instinctively. You may not believe in supernatural fairy tales, but the thought of him being trapped sickens you, even for pretend. "Those men ought to be taken out to sea and keelhauled till their flesh is bloody fish bait."

The image that phrase conjures definitely has her smiling ear-to-ear.

"What about the male selkies? Is the tale genderbent in their case?"

"Well... Selkie men are seducers."

"What?" you almost scream. "That's radically different than—"

"I know," she cuts you off with a reassuring tone. "True to how the society was like back then, they had a lot more freedom. Nothing about coat-stealing or anything. Just women who are unsatisfied in their lives and relationships, also lonely fishermen wives, who summon a selkie lover by shedding seven tears into the sea at high tide on a full moon. And interestingly, those selkie men truly love their human lovers and their offspring. If their genre is romance, the stories of female selkies getting forcefully married are just horror."

"Realism, I guess," you say, trying to wrap your mind around the details.

You briefly picture Raf as one of those legendary beings. Knowing he wouldn't touch any human being with a five foot pole, you imagine it would be nothing short of wishing for a genie in a bottle but summoning a trickster spirit instead.

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