#oh i am looking
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âDo not take ibuprofen by mouth or apply it to your skin if you have ever had an allergic reaction or symptoms like wheezing, runny nose or skin reactions after taking aspirin, ibuprofen or other non-steroidal anti-inflammatory drugs (NSAIDs) such as naproxen.â
4x05 âBuck Beginsâ -> 6x11 âIn Another Lifeâ -> 8x05 âMasksâ
Inspired by @stagefoureddiediaz and @bewitchedbewilderedbisexual
#911#911 spoilers#911edit#911 on fox#911 fox#911 abc#evanbuckleyedit#my edit#911verse#evan buckley#flashing tw#i am thinking thoughts#911hiatusparallels#so so many thoughts#Kym caught the buck begins mention so#im just like#HELLO#the ibuprofen comment being in buck begins along with the multiple calls involving allergies this season#oh i am LOOKING#is tim that smart who the fuck know buttttttt#anti bucktommy#to be safe#i mean i am implying he poisoned buck aoskaoskas
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#i know this has probably already been posted a hundred times#but oh well#i am randl trash#oh i am looking#rhett mclaughlin#gmm
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đ
đˇ @/ftorresv1
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Sir... Sir.. SIR...
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AAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!
#oh I am LOOKING#I saw this earlier cause weâre in the same server BUT#BUT IT MAKES ME#SO HAPPY#when people just.. use my designs for anything and everything <333#spotty speaks#mothmans-w00ds#moonpaw
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Imagine spending all your energy being cool and mysterious 24/7.
What an idiot have I mentioned I love him?
Idea came from a cool post @nouverx made about Alastorâs possible sleeping habits. đ
#grey art#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel fanart#hazbin hotel comic#Oh I am DONE coloring stuff for a while! itâs so boring!#I mean it looks great but I haaaaaate spending time on it!#get used to grayscale stuff for a while#also coloring multiple characters is stupid! no no no.#angel dust#husker#sir pentious#alastor#charlie morningstar#hazbin husker#hazbin alastor#god Iâm glad to be done with this one
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Snow bots au anyone? :D
They're back together a year later because it's snowing againâď¸
All right! For context: I imagine them hanging out every winter in some kind of resort (a resort that Blurr owns. Because his bar business has expanded that much over time.)
#maccadam#transformers#snow bots au#uh thatâs a lot of characters. okay letâs go#left -> to right. top to bottom haha#Swerve#Rung#Tailgate#Rewind#chromedome#cdrw#jazz#prowl#jazzprowl#rodimus#rodimus prime#Wing#Drift#Blurr#Swindle#I originally wanted to add Brainstorm falling out of bus window and Perceptor catching him but my brain is shutting down I need to sleep ha#jazz and prowl switching their hats be like#Prowl: I sense something is wrong..where's my hat?? (looks around) (sees it on Jazz's head) Oh there it is. Cool.#five minutes later: wait. If my hat is there than what am I wearing right now???? error 404#world greatest detective ladies and gentlemen~
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tbh ryoko kui cooked with this one why is this the funniest image I have ever seen
#i have been looking at it for 2 days at this point#she is SMALL and LONG#the idea of actual cat-sized izutsumi butters my biscuits <- (g/t loving freak)#love the implication that marcille and falin own izutsumi in the modern AU because cat mom marcille is literally so real#she is 1000% a cat person. in the same way i am a cat person i think where i am good with them but annoy the shit out of them.#oh no. am i gonna start meshiposting now.#dungeon meshi#delicious in dungeon#daydream hour#marcille donato#izutsumi
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Long distance besties. This definitely happened after the third movie (source: trust me bro)
Based on this

#anyways time to yap in the tags đâď¸#but first ummmm lemme just tag some shit#how to train your dragon#httyd#httyd hiccup#hiccup haddock#hiccup horrendous haddock iii#toothless#httyd toothless#ok i think that its done#anyways this definitely happaned after the dragons left like just trust me bro đđđđ#omfg i wanted to make this with hijack as well cause lol. do you get it. they're long distance LOLOLOL#maybe i will make it who knows. is it weird to make the same art trend with different characters??#OH WAIT FORGOT ANOTHER TAG#hicctooth#is this the duo name for them#or is it called#hictooth#doesnt matter. what matters is that theyre literally the definition of platonic soulmates bro#like wtf i love them#sorry for making them look miserable i didnt meant for them to look lile that đđđđ#omg with that being said#BROOOOOO I AM NOT GONNA DRAW DRAGONS ANYMORE IM DONEEEEE HOW DO YOU DRAW DRAGONS đđđđđđđ#anyways first attempt do you like it. SAY YES RIGHT NOW#if you read this much till the end you need to kiss me rn muah muah muah#also say i did a good job at making them look like cookies like#say it rn#okie bye byeeeeee#I FORGOT TO ADD HIS BRAID IM GONNA KMSSSSSS NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO#omg i failed
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spiraling
#my art#jujutsu kaisen#jjk#jjk fanart#jujutsu kaisen fanart#jjk art#megumi fushiguro#fushiguro megumi#gojo satoru#jjk spoilers#jjk manga spoilers#the minute i realized how tg coded the composition n colours were i decided to turn it up to 11#i was racking my brain trying 2 figure out how to get the layered tissue paper look tht i talked abt ishida's cover art having#cycled through all my usual layer modes n nothing ws Quite right#until wouldnt u know it . divide n subtract!!!!! i NEVER use divide or subtract bc theyre impossible#but fr this??? its like they were made for it oh my god#it makes the greys look translucent n all my textures pop in a way that makes them appear splotchy n Bruised#which ws the whole point thts the Look god i am so PLEASED#when the layer modes tht notoriously get No love finally find their niche <33 peace and love <333#filing this away fr later i am going 2 have a lot of fun with this new information i think#im very happy w how the colours look n i dont think anything else wld have kept the right Mood#but i am always so >:/ when i have to use a palette tht forces me into giving megumi blue eyes#had to set aside th green eyed megu agenda fr the Aesthetic unfortunately#anyway i knew from the minute i saw it that i wanted to do smth involving the opening panel of 268#bc that panel is S tier#i figured tht if nothing came 2 me i wld just redraw it as-is bc it's alr so good but as i ws sketching i was like#u know what u havent done in a while? art tht looks like u r going Insane#art tht makes ur family ask whether everything is ok#so i once again tucked megumi's knees up 2 his chest and apologized insincerely to him fr making the third megumi angst piece in a row#:)
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I wish we could have met in some other way.
Lawlight Week Day 2: Soulmates
If you saw me repost and re-edit this several times uh No you didn't </3
Still frames/Individual gifs:


If you know what every frame is from you get a free cookie. by the way
#death note#dn#light yagami#l lawliet#lawlight#oh god here we go#death note jdrama#death note 2015#death note 2006#death note musical#lctw#l change the world#dntm#lawlightweek2024#my art#collapses i am NEVER putting this much effort in one piece ever again /hj this was the Only one i had mostly prepared in advance#ironically the most painstaking part about making this entire thing was converting the images into an animated file#that wasn't either horrifically compressed or just. wouldn't loop. why do gifs have to look so BAD it's so inconvenient#and THEN i realized I had to forcibly Stitch the two animations together so they would actually be synced and it wouldn't look dumb#and the end result is STILL so compressed. because Tumblr. uhhh just don't click on it it'll look so scuffed LOL. anyways#this is what i get for watching Every Adaptation of Death Note. i am a death note multiverse truther#usually i'd have something clever to say in the tags but. this drained the life out of me just uh.#yeah. they're doomed in every universe. this is the only way they could've met. they are doomed by their own natures and the#circumstances that surround them. there is no universe where light tries to prevent L's death. and even in the cases where L Doesn't die#there is no universe where L can save light. there is no universe where he can truly âcatchâ Kira and make him see where he went wrong#(<- if you read LCTW you know. :) )#in every universe and adaptation L will call Light his first friend. in some universes they'll take that notion more seriously than others#no matter what one of them will die due to the other. its the only constant. it's the only way it can ever be. they are the others downfall
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Cuddly!!
#I am playing sonic unleashed for like the FIRST time atm#itâs great!! I love the music and the levels are funâ#Iâm also obsessed with how unconcerned everyone is with sonics werehog form like#he gets all like worried and his side kick thingo is freaked out at first but#talking to people in town and theyâre just like âoh#neat new look I guessâ#and thatâs under the circumstance they actually bring it up at all#anyways welcome to a new sonamy era :$#I canât be bothered to fix my spelling errors I apologise#my art#sonic#sonic the hedgehog#sonic unleashed#Amy rose#sonamy
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We are two sides of the same coin
#squid game#seong gihun#hwang in ho#seong gi hun x hwang in ho#seong gi hun x oh young il#seong gi hun x front man#457#look im not saying i want gi-hun to be the next front man. it'll be genuinely bad writing if he does please GOD no.#but what i AM saying is that i want in-ho to try and force the promotion on him through homoerotic psychological warfare.#the whole season in ho was like âlemme show you the inherent selfishness in humanity pookieâ and i demand more of that energy in season 3#and also im sorry but you can't give me asian hannigram and expect me to not be obsessed come on now#also whoever came up with the ship name 457 lemme kiss you on the mouth
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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.
Itâs 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 coversâ
But it happens at a remove. You watch yourself implode from someplace deep inside, not entirely sure why itâs happening at allâbut long past trying to figure it out.
This is how itâs been for a while. Thereâs 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.
Youâve stopped trying to fix it. And youâve stopped hoping anyone else can, either.
So you cry, until at last, youâre empty again. Or youâre too tired to continue. The difference is negligible, but functionally irrelevant. Once itâs 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 youâd 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.
Suddenlyâviolent 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 againâannoyed, 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 flyâ
Of course itâs 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.
âWell, good morninâ, bonnie,â he purrs.
âWhat,â 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 pinpricksâyou flinch bodily at the chill.
âAh, hellâs bells, donât just stand there,â Johnny says, following the wind. âItâs freezin,â go on, let me get in, hurry.â
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.
âBrought breakfast!â he says cheerfully. âThereâs this bakery on Barra I thought youâd like, fresh doughnuts and coffee. Dunno how you take yours, but thereâs sugar in the pantry and cream in the fridge.â
âI donât want breakfast,â you say.
âWhat? âCourse you do. Iâm noâ takinâ you seal-watchinâ on an empty stomach.â
He starts unpacking the grocery bag and setting things on the counter while your jaw hangs open. Several things occur to you to sayâI never agreed to that and what the hell is wrong with you, for startersâbut 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.
âDo you get dressed, bonnie,â he says. âItâll still be here when yâget back.â
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.
âGot anythinâ heavier?â he asks around a chewed-up mouthful. âGets cold out there.â
You look down at his bare calves, broad and taut and covered in a down of dark hair. âYou seem alright.â
âIâm used to it,â he says, shruggingâthe muscles flexing under your gaze.
You purse your lips. âI donât have anything.â You hadnât 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.
âThatâs all right,â he says. Youâre close enough to hear the way his voice hums deep in his chest. âI can keep you warm.â
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 doesnât seem to bother him in the slightestâhe 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 youâd 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. Youâd 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. âGood?â He flicks a look at the single bite youâve taken, looks at your mouth, and then waits for your reply.
âItâs fine,â you grumble. Then, âHow did you get here? I didnât hear the truck drive up. Do you live close by?â
âSometimes,â he says. He looks pleased that youâve asked, that youâre interested at all, and you immediately regret inquiring. âLive on a boat, me. Moored in the cove right now.â
âAâŚboat,â you say.
âAye.â A wisp of dark hair, something he must have missed when he gelled his mohawk this morning, flutters as he nods. âNice and cozy. Not as grand as all this, mind.â He gestures around with coffee and doughnut at the less than five hundred square feet of the cottage. âBut itâs still a sight nicer than some other places Iâve slept.â
Heâs likely hinting at his military service. âOkay,â is all you say, unwilling to entertain it.
He smirkâundeterred. âWeâll take her out once youâre ready.â
âI never said I was going.â
Dark brows lift. âGot somethinâ else planned for today?â he asks, incredulous, as if he never imagined you wouldnât want to hang out with him.
âNo, Iââ
You wrack your brain. You have no intention of explaining to this complete stranger that the last thing youâd wanted to do, when you booked this trip, was really anything at allâand in fact, you hadnât even considered that that might be something anyone else would care much about.
Much less proactively address.
âNo,â you repeat, sulking.
Johnny considers you, chewing. His eyes do not stray, this time, to places they donât belong; but thereâs 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.
âI figure,â he says, slowly, as if to coax, âyou put your wee shoes on, anâ Iâll pack this back up, and we take it along.â
âYou donât have to do this,â you grouse. âI donât need you to, likeâbe my tour guide.â
âAye, but that doesnae mean I donât wanna,â 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 donât have anymore. And going along doesnât mean you have to pretend to enjoy yourselfâitâs not like you care enough about Johnnyâs 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 heâll realize youâre not at all worth the effort heâs making, and then finally leave you alone.
âFine,â you say, which is how you end up on a fishing trawler headed south toward, ostensibly, a colony of breeding seals.
Itâs an old vesselâthat 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 varietyâyou canât tell if thatâs 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.
âBought it off an old bloke on Lewis,â Johnny says, taking his place at the wheel, which is in a little alcove off the kitchen.
If youâd thought steering a boat would have curtailed his chatting, youâd have been wrongâhe 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.
âAll his family moved to the mainland, he told me, anâ this is after generations fishinâ these islands, even makinâ it through the Clearances! No money in it anymore, he said, not like you could make in some office somewhere countinâ someone elseâs money.â He checks something on the dashboard in front of him, but it doesnât distract him for long. âHeld on for a while, but people just kept leavin,â anâ he was gettinâ 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.â
âDid he sell you the cottage too?â you ask, and then dig your nails into your wrist for encouraging him.
âYup,â he says. âNo one else wanted it, but me? I saw somethinâ special about it.â
He turns to smile at youâno doubt pleased you made the connection. You avert your gaze.
âImagine someday Iâll have my own family here,â he continues. âGood place for it. Nice and slow, not like city living. Can hear yourself think out here. Perfect place to have a few wee ones.â
âIf people stop leaving,â you mutter.
He turns to you again. âIâm noâ worried about that,â he replies. Heâs still smiling. âYou came here, after all.â
You have nothing to say to that.
The trip is a short oneâJohnny brings the trawler alongside an island he informs you is called Mingulay, a square mile smaller than Vatersayâs 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.
âDidnât I tell you?â he says proudly, holding it out by the shoulders. âHere, turn âround.â
You pause in the middle of reaching for it. You donât know exactly why you complyâit 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.
âThere wâgo,â 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 curledâsmug.
âAlright then,â he says. âLetâs get out there.â
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. Youâll be walking to the haul-out, he saysâgetting too close to the breeding grounds, which he calls a rookery, would spook them, possibly causing a stampede.
âItâs grey seals weâre gonna see,â he explains as the two of you pick your way across the rocky landscape. âNot the biggest haul-out you could see, some colonies get into the thousands, but weâll have it all to ourselves.â
He insists on taking your elbow every time the two of you cross particularly uneven terrain, even though you donât 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.
âIâm not a child, Johnny, I can walk on my own,â you finally snap at him.
âJust beinâ a gentleman, bonnie,â 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 itselfâsome ancestral instinct always on the lookout for predation. If youâd been given a chance to guess what a colony of mating seals might have sounded like, youâre not sure you could have guessed what they sounded like.
Certainly not like what you hear nowâ
Like people.
Johnny grins at you when he notices. âAye, itâs a right ruckus, innit?â
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 itâitâs 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 doesnât 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. Itâs just that without a swell of awed music in the backdrop, or a narratorâs breathless wonder at the miracle of pinniped life, whatâs 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 heâs pointing; one larger seal is hassling a smaller one, which snarls at the aggressor as it thrashes around with its substantial bulk.
âLittle one thereââ Johnny says, âthatâs a female, probably obvious. Big one knows sheâs ready to mate, can smell it on her.â
The female bares her teeth and lunges at the bigger male, which flinches back but holds his ground.
âDoesnât look like she agrees,â you mutter.
âSheâs just givinâ him a hard time. Sheâs all in heat, see? Just makes her cranky,â Johnny says. You feel his eyes on you, and lower your binoculars to look at him. âSheâs got to fight to feel all in control.â
You flush. âRight.â
âYou donât think so?â
âNo,â you say. âHeâsâheâs just bothering her.â
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.
âNah,â he finally says, and you donât think youâre imagining the low, sultry note in his voice. âShe wants it bad as he does.â
You scowl, uncomfortably perceived, and return your binocularsâthe 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.
âIs she sick?â you ask.
âHm? Oh, no, sheâs alright. The mums lose a lot of weight when they nurse. Takes three weeks, and they donât eat in the meantime.â
âJesus.â
âBe nice if the dads ever brought âem a bite, aye?â Johnny agrees. âDeadbeats, the lot of them.â
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 doesnât rise in response; begrudgingly, you tug Johnnyâs jacket a little tighter around you.
Then, suddenly, his hand lands on your back, between your shoulder blades.
âGot some pups over there,â he says. âLook, by the kelp.â
You find them; smaller bodies, white dinged with wet sand and dirt, lounge near their mothers or wriggle with aimless difficulty. Theyâre fluffy and round as plush toys, with shining black eyes and noses, and once Johnnyâs pointed them out you can differentiate the higher, sweeter pitch of their cries from the overall cacophony.
âSometimes,â Johnny murmurs, âsearch and rescueâll get called out because someone thought they heard a baby crying. Some kid stranded or lost, right? Turns out to be a baby seal.â
âThatâs kind of scary,â you say.
âAye,â says Johnny. âAlways makes me think thatâs where the old legends come from, about seal people or mermaids.â
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 pupâs 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.
âTime for swimming lessons already?â Johnny muses. âSeems early.â
Youâre horrified. âSheâs going to drown it!â
The hand still on your back pats you consolingly. âJust watch,â says Johnny.
The wave reaches as far up the shore as gravity allows, and then begins to recede. The pupâs 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.
âTheyâre hardier than they look, bonnie,â 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 youâbut the knobs of your spine contract at his touch.
âLast of the births this season, looks like,â he says. âMumâs getting ready to leaveâprobably not the only one.â
Something hard drops into your stomach.
âThey leave their babies?â you ask.
âAye. Once theyâre done nursing, they mate, and then they go.â
You look back at the other cows with their pups. One baby has its muzzle to its motherâs belly, quivering and suckling, while she lays with her head on a patch of grass. She looks uninterestedâmore, she looks disinterested. As if how voraciously her pup is nursing has nothing much to do with her, and sheâs bored of even having to think about it.
Boredâand already looking forward to the next part of her life without a baby in it.
âThatâs horrible,â you say.
âTheyâre solitary animals, bonnie,â Johnny says, not ungently. âThe only time theyâre really all together is for this.â
A line tightens between your stomach and throat, and you feel it start to build between your ribs. A tremorâforeshocks. 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.
âAw, bonnie,â Johnny says. Thereâs a kind of pity in his voice that has your hackles raising.
âI want to leave,â you say, yanking away from his touch and shuffling down the incline. âTake me back to the cottage.â
âBonnie, itâs okay!â Johnny protests, rolling to his back to look at you as you stand. âThe pups make it, they figure out how to fend for themselves.â
You glare at him, vision blurring. âAll of them?â
Some part of you knows youâre being irrationalâknows 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 decadesâ
Most of the time.
Johnny has no response. He holds your angry gaze, brows drawn low, mouth pressed into a thin line. Itâs 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 isnât reflecting your anger back at you, thoughâheâs 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. âTake me back,â 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 departsâhe bids you farewell after rowing you to shore, contemplation on his face, and then leaves you to yourself.
You retreat, seeking the cottageâs empty quiet.
As you perch on the couch you listen to the radiator humâthe wind blow over the reeds in the thatch roofâyour 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 youâre still wearing Johnnyâs 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 wouldnât do the moment you set foot on the islandâyou turn your phone back on.
True to Johnnyâs word, thereâs 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.
Itâs 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 connectivityâa thin, frayed thread. Something you lied to yourself about cutting.
Itâs a weak connection. Unstable. It could take a whileâyou 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.
Nothingâ
No one.
You whip around and, with a cry, pitch the thing at the far wallâit hits the stone with a crunch, falling to the floor in pieces.
Youâre out of the cottage then in a mad dash, door slamming behind you, driving yourself back into the wind. Far awayâyou 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.
Youâre halfway down to the shore, not really knowing what youâre 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? Itâs dark, like it just pulled itself out of the oceanâor washed upâ
Then, it moves. A twitch, a ripple across its bulk, and your chest rapidly decompresses.
A seal. Itâs a large seal, lounging alone on the beach.
You stand motionless. Youâre very closeâmuch closer than you and Johnny had been at the rookery. You hadnât contended with the sheer size of the animals, tucked safely up and away from them, but there is no illusion of distance now.
Itâs the biggest one youâve seen today, youâre 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 sealâs head.
The bullâit must be maleâturns over. It lifts its head, and opens its eyesâ
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. Johnnyâs care with keeping enough distance from the colony rushes back to you, along with the warring coupleâs bared teeth.
They canât move that fast on land, right? They arenât interested in people, right?
You scramble backward. Itâs so much bigger than you ever would have imagined. If it got to youâthrew itself over youâit could crush you with its weight aloneâ
The bull watches you placidly. Unperturbed.
You pause.
Its small eyes are dark and glossyâwatchful 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. Itsâhisânostrils flex, widening and narrowing, as he blinks docilely.
Unafraid.
If anythingâcurious.
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 doesnât move againânor does his attention leave you. Slowly, you sit up.
Wary. No sudden movements.
He doesnât 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.
Thereâs an intelligence in the bullâs 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 hisâand yetâŚas 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 isnât with the other seals.
Johnny would probably know.
âI didnât come for you, you know,â you grumble at him.
The seal blinks. Awareness notwithstanding, you donât share any language.
You sigh. âI guess you didnât come to see me either,â you say.
But you donât move away.
And you stay like that for a long while, you and heâregarding each other as the wind breathes out across the shore.
next
a/n: follow for more seal factsâ˘
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 :)
#soap x reader#soap x you#john soap mctavish x reader#john soap mctavish x you#john soap x reader#john soap mactavish x reader#soap mactavish#john soap mactavish x you#soap mactavish x reader#soap mctavish#john soap mactavish#mwritessoap#madi writes#am i happy with the photos i used? no#am i going to make an effort to change them? also no#does that image of a whirlpool look terribly erotic? oh yes#selkie soap#peristalsis
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FORGETTABLE AU: CHAPTER TWO
[MASTERPOST][PREVIOUS CHAPTER][NEXT CHAPTER] PAGES:
73-77 , 78-81 82-85 , 86-89
#FINALLY FINISHED THIS DRAWING OH IT IS SOOO GOOD TO DRAW ON MY COMPUTER AGAIN#THE DRAWING TABLET IS SO MUCH BETTER THAN MY REGULAR TABLET#OKAYY#I really like how the drawing turned outtttt#LOOK AT PAPYRUS#HE LOOKS AMAZING#ONE OF MY BEST PAPS#hehehe#something I thought about while drawing this:#It's very funny that Papyrus kind of exist because of Wingdings' mistake#and then#Flowey kind of exists because of Alphys' mistake#AND THEY'RE ALL HERE ON THIS DRAWING#wow..........#I am so bad at making grid floors#I did not check if the perspective of those squares is correct LMAO#forgettable-au#undertale au#undertale#gaster#papyrus#papyrus is gaster#flowey#alphys#This cover looks so good I want to remake the other oneeesss AUGGHHHHHHH#I CANT KEEP DOING THAT THO....
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drew some of my fav ody designs! wasnt originally meant to be also replicating the styles but thats sort of just how my brain works. except i didnt copy the lineart styles of anyone here so its DEFINITELY a bit uncanny for a couple of these (LOOKING AT YOU QINNY IM SO SORRY) but whatever
the designs featured here (from left to right) belong to: me, @gigizetz, @neal-illustrator, @irunaki, @bigidiotenergytm, @qinnyanimation, and @foopsie-daisy
#WAUGHHH IM SO NERVOUS TAGGING PEOPLE COOLER THAN ME#HEAD IN HANDS HEAD IN HANDS I NEED TO STOP PANICKING OVER STUFF LIKE THIS#bc like I KNOW THEYRE JUST PEOPLE. I WOULD BE SO HYPE IF SOMEONE DREW MY ODY ID LOVE TO BE TAGGED IN THAT.#BUT WHAT IF I AM SHOT. WITH A GUN. gfrdfvb vfrdedrf#i am a very normal non anxiety having person i swear guys#worst thing i did here was have odys hands very visible for the qinny one. because i didnt realize the way they draw hands is very realisti#BUT THEIR WHOLE STYLE HAS REALLY REALISTIC ANATOMY I SHOULVE KNOWN#irunakis style is SO fun to draw in bc its a lot like some of my older art so its very familiar yk yk i wasnt worrying too much about makin#-things accurate. but i think that accidentally made me too comfortable and so i ended up straying a bit too much#i think a lot of irunaki and qinnys styles specifically is in the lineart. so me using my normal style of lines makes them less recognizabl#anyways. neals odysseus i have shit talked in private (its a good design it just feels uncanny w/ jorges voice to me) but hes really-#-interesting to draw. i wanna do style studies on neal their characters have a very. idk animated feels like the wrong word but like.#something like animated. feeling to them. theyre very distinct in shape i wanna do studies thats it#bigidiotenergy i found this morning while FINALLY looking at cloudysseus art and instantly fell in love w their design#i need to ruffle his hair. hes so silly. absolutely incredible design. but GOD was the style a nightmare#it was too late id already comitted to trying to replicate the styles. but ohhh my god its so far from my own it was so hard#theres so much detail in places i dont normally put any at all#and its like. WAUGH its scary i need to do anatomy studies in general maybe#uhh havent commented on the gigi one. he was really easy to draw though lol. weirdly enough gigis style was close enough to my current one-#-that i didnt have any trouble whatsoever? and i think its the most accurate too but only because of the lineart styles being similar lol#ALSO NOT TO PLAY FAVORITES BUT FOOP ODYSSEUS IS MY FAVORITE#I LOVE HIMMM I LOVE HIS SILLY SHAPES HE LOOKS LIKE A WEIRD CAT KINDA. HE INTRIGUES ME.#my ody feels kinda lame next to all these guys gbfdefgbf#but oh well. hes ingrained into my mind now i cant change him at this point /silly i am actually happy w him but i might make changes#thaats thoughts on all of the odys here. anyways art tags time#doodles#odysseus#epic the musical#OH MY GOD EDIT I FORGOT TO DRAW FOOP ODYS SHOES. HEAD IN HANDS. IM SO SORRY
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