#selkie!jack

[bebemoon]

look for the name ABBRA (requested by @tiltingatwindmi11s) | selkie "the gallileo astronomers" starry paper cotton puff-sleeved gown, antique rhinestone juliet cap (c. 192o's), matea gluscevic handmade regency-style golden lace-up boots, aurora scents "moon dust" eau de parfum (bergamot, blackcurrant, lemon, black pepper, frankincense, oud, pink pepper, amber, cedarwood, coffee, elemi resin, patchouli, white musk), ruby jack "sophie's marionette" earrings in gold plate

[chimeofthecomet]

i have more ideas but right now heres a sketch page of selkie au davey <3 he is a little too tall and looks into ur eyes for a little too long,, he is lactose intolerant and has a birthmark under his eye and he is my favourite sopping wet cat (seal)

[resident-rats]

Rating: Explicit

Summary: All alone on a military base, Leon makes an unconventional friend.

[underratedmhapoll]

Best Boy But They're All Furries

[crow-aeris]

The continuation/prequel to my not-quite mermay/mermay submission thing!

first part

———

Tim drifts in the tank, flicking his tail as he swam through the water. A hazy cloud stuffed his brain as he slowly regained consciousness.

He vaguely remembers the feeling of warm water flowing against the surface of his egg, the sensation of water rushing through his gills. He only had one day with his sire, enough to be named Tim, before the water suddenly shifted, and he was pulled from his hatching ground and thrown into something with colder water.

He had then been sent off... somewhere, crying and chirping for a pod, his dam, and his sire.

There was... a smell?

Tim slowly lifted his hand to his face, blinking laboriously as his awareness returned in bits and pieces.

The feeling of a syringe being shoved down his throat to force artificial-tasting milk into his mouth, the feeling of rough hands pinning his arms and delicate fins against his sides as fingers rubbed his throat and forced him to swallow the strange mixture.

That was how he spent his time as a pup, but the moment his fangs grew in, the humans abruptly took away the not-milk and forced him to eat chunks of cold fish.

Tim jerked at the sound of obnoxious laughter filling the air, and he lifted his head to stare through the glass and into the crowd of humans. Eyes- there were so. Many. EYES.

He flinched back, his dorsal fins bumping into the smooth wall, a panicked trill falling from his lips as he whipped around. The humans were saying something, laughing and pointing.

Tim rears back, flaring his pectoral and cranial fins, hissing and snarling at them to LEAVE.

But, like humans tend to do, they didn't listen.

Panic begins to build at the back of his mind. When he locks eyes with Janet and Jack- the humans who bought him- the fear drains away, only to be replaced by a sudden and overwhelming fury.

Tim forces himself to settle, eyes flicking to the latches barely visible toward the edge of the tank. He relaxes, resuming the appearance of a still and docile mer, entertaining the cooing humans as he hovers near the tank lid. He watched with smooth satisfaction as Janet noticed what he was doing.

"I'm sorry," Janet smiles with sharpened edges and furious eyes, "but it has been a long night, and I am sure Timothy must be exhausted."

Just as she got the words out, Tim managed to snap open the lock. With a victorious grin, the mer shoved open the lid, ignoring the shouts of alarm before swimming toward the bottom. He sucked in a breath before hurtling up-up-up and out of the tank.

Tim grunts as he slams against the floor, water dripping off his skin and scales as he hissed at the humans screaming and rushing around in alarm.

"GUARDS!" Janet shouts, calling and sneering at Tim with narrowed eyes.

He snarled, raising and flaring his fins. He- he needed to get out somehow. But- but how? He didn't think this through. Curse the stars- why was he acting like a stupid pup?

Tim felt his venom fangs lengthen from the roof of his mouth, and when one of the guards approached, the mer lunged forward with a vicious snarl.

His hands hooked into the man's clothes, slamming his body into his chest before biting.

The man screams before kicking Tim off of him. The mer was too hungry, and his venom was lacking, even within his species.

But before he could lash out, footsteps rushed over, and he whirled around to snarl at the approaching... selkie?

Tim falters, the muscles extending his fangs relaxed as he frowns at the creature in confusion. What was a selkie doing?

And then, a whistling sound filled the air, and a sharp sensation stabbed Tim's arm.

He screams, writhing on the ground in pain as a hazy panic crept through his body.

"PLEASE!" he screams, his arm giving out from under him as he latches desperately onto the selkie's leg, staring at his horrified expression, "I- I DON'T- DON'T MAKE ME GO BACK! PLEASE!"

A pathetic whine tears from his throat, the sedatives taking hold, and everything goes dark.

[saveugoodmadam]

lost & found

🦭this is my personal take on @chimeofthecomet's selkie au, all credit for creating the au goes to pip! :3 word count is around 2.5k 🦭

"Got your pelt?” Davey asks as he and his brother walk back to their house, their path illuminated by softly glowing streetlamps. Les nods, patting his selling bag, then opens it to show a pelt of soft, thick fur with a few patches beginning to develop on the jet-black fluff. His name is inked on the skin, written in their mother's loopy handwriting.

“D’you have yours?” he asks Davey.

Davey opens his bag, expecting to see his familiar spotted pelt inside, but is met with just empty air instead. He stops dead in his tracks. His breathing is rapid, his hands clutching tight to the strap across his chest.

“Is it back at the lodge house?” Les asks, hoping that the effort of finding an answer will stop his big brother from panicking.His plan works. Davey’s hands slowly unclasp and his breathing regulates as he combs through the evening they've just spent with the newsies in his head. He remembers lounging on an old, saggy, threadbare sofa and listening to Jack talking about his newest backdrop. He remembers a short nap he'd taken, lulled to sleep by Jack's smooth voice before he'd been woken up by Race and Albert’s loud bickering. Only now does he remember how his bag was lighter when he'd stood up to confront them.

“Y- yeah, I think so. Somewhere on the couch. I- I-" No. He can't go back and get it now. They're too far away from the lodging house at this point, and they need to be back home for dinner.

“I’ll get it back next morning. I'll be fine without it for a night.”

But he knows he's lying. All through dinner there's a pull in his chest that he knows will only quiet itself once his pelt is back beside him.

“Are you alright, my little leanabh ròin?” Esther asks as he picks silently at his meal. “Is the food too much for your tongue today?”

He shakes his head. “No, Mama. It's very nice, thank you.”

“Whatever the matter is, bubbeleh,” Mayer reassures him with the sort of smile that Davey thinks only fathers can have, “you can always talk to us. We're your parents, are we not? We want to make sure you’re alright.”

“Yes, Papa. It's nothing really. I'll always seek your help if I need it, I promise,” he tells his father, making extra sure to eat everything on his plate.

His sleep is fraught that night and whenever he does drift off for a small burst of unconsciousness, the sea fills his dreams. Guilt seeps into his body, saturating him with the shame of losing the one thing a selkie must never lose. In an act of desperation he knocks on Sarah's door, weeping in relief when she lets him in and wraps the both of them in her own pelt. Perhaps because they are twins and therefore their sealskins are almost identical, the presence of her pelt against his body means the pulling feeling is calmed enough to let him finally drift off.

As early as he can the next morning, he brings Les down to the lodging house to retrieve his pelt and soothe the tugging in his bosom. It's Crutchie who opens the door when he knocks, the older boy's face souring at the sight of him.

“Hey, Les!” Crutchie says, then adds curtly, “Mornin’, David. Jack ain't here.”

“Oh, I'm not here for Jack today. I, uh, I left something here last night,” Davey explains. From the way Crutchie's acting, he's hit by the not unfamiliar feeling that he's really badly messed up but doesn't know how.

“You sure did. And I'll tell you what, we all know what you left.”

Davey freezes up, his hand clasping Les’ tighter. “You do?”

Crutchie nods, his mouth a thin line. “Mm-hmm. There's a seal Jack talked with, down by the harbour. He loved that animal. Wouldn't stop talkin’ about it every time he went down ‘n’ talked at it ‘n’ slipped it bits’a fish. An’ now suddenly you leave its skin behind in the lodge house.”

Suddenly, Davey feels sick to his stomach. Of course the newsies don't believe in selkies. They believe in poachers.

“Listen, I can explain. I promise, this is all a big misunderstanding!” he stammers. Crutchie's harsh eyes soften just a little.

“I sure hope it is, and I sure hope you can explain. But not to me. I don't need explanations. Jack's down at the harbour, with whatever the hell remains of that poor animal.” Crutchie looks like he's done speaking, then adds- “You broke my little brother's goddamn heart, David, and you're damn well gonna fix it up again.”

Davey nods meekly. “I will. I swear.”

He leaves Les at the lodge house and runs.

There are three things that Davey can trust his instincts to lead him to- the ocean, his pelt and Jack. There's a perfect harmony thrumming in his bones as his legs lead him to all three at once. He reaches the harbour as soon as he can- feet hammering against the ground, heart hammering against his chest. Jack is easily spotted from here; his crimson shirt sticks out like a sore thumb against the grey-blue of the water. Davey's heart sinks at the sight of the hunched-over figure at the end of the pier.

“Jack?” he questions softly, approaching the boy.

Jack turns around, his eyes wet and narrowed in outrage. Tear-tracks bleed through the dirt on his cheeks.

“How could you?” he splutters, the bite in his voice softened by grief.

The pelt is clutched to his chest, the fur wet in patches from being wept into. Davey's instincts are hot behind his ribs, urging him to snatch back his pelt and reclaim his second nature. Despite this, some other feeling that always swells in his chest when he's near Jack is weirdly comfortable seeing Jack's fingers against the sealskin, hugging such a crucial part of Davey so close to him.

“Jack, it's not- not what it looks like. I promise, I really-”

Davey starts to speak after a few moments of silence, but Jack quickly interrupts.

“Yknow, I'd never’a pinned you down as one to go around slaughterin’ innocent creatures. That seal hadn't done nothin’ wrong to you! He was… he was my friend…”

“I know. He's not gone. He's still your friend,” Davey tries to explain. Sitting cross-legged next to Jack, he takes back his pelt, feeling a blanket of relief settle over him as he cards his fingers through the fur, gently untangling small knots.

“How?” Jack asks. His tone begs for an answer more than it demands one. “You think I don't recognise the little fella’s skin when I see it? And out of all’a the seals in New York you could’a done this to, it had to be the one who meant the most to me? I'm so used to losing people, Davey. I'm so tired of it. You know that. I thought I could at least trust you not to be the reason I lost anyone else!”

It breaks Davey's heart to see Jack look so horribly betrayed. He’s never realised how much Jack trusts him until now, not really.

“Jack… the answer is- it's easiest to show you. You won't believe me if I use words.”

“Sure,” Jack hisses, his voice hollow and defensive.

In a single practised move, Davey wraps the pelt tight around himself and draws his head under the hood with his eyes shut tight. When he looks back up at Jack it is with the same big wet eyes he first looked at him with when he poked his head above the water on that rainy afternoon in late May.

“Dave?” Jack breathes, using the nickname he reserves only for special situations like this. It's a world away from the Jack who was there just a moment ago. His face is a mask of utter shock. “You was... that seal was... it's you."

Davey barks an affirmative. Jack's face buries in his hands, his shoulders heaving.

“Are you okay?” Davey asks, unwrapping himself from his pinniped form and rushing to console Jack. His answer is a nod as Jack lifts his head, his mouth open in silent laughter, tears of mirth forming in the corners of his eyes. Awkward as ever, Davey just sits there, unsure what to say but happy at least that Jack isn’t upset or angry.

“Oh my god!” Jack says once he's finally calmed down enough to speak. “That little honky bark…sorry, I shouldn't'a laughed, but it was so hilariously adorable.”

“It was?” Davey asks, confused.

“Yeah!” Jack chuckles, then groans slightly in embarrassment. “Oh god, I said so many things I regret now!”

“It's okay. You didn't know the seal was also me.”

“Fair, but, I mean- I did say some kinda embarrassing things in hindsight.”

Davey flashes a wicked grin. “What, like ‘hey there, water doggy’?’ ‘Want some fish, cutie patootie’? ‘Awww, stop lookin’ at me with those big ol’ wet eyes’?”

“Alright, okay!” Jack laughs. “Point well made, Mr Jacobs.”

Then he turns his puppy eyes on Davey, the ones that Davey hasn't learnt to say no to yet.

“Can we pleeeeaaaseee forget that ever happened now, Davey?”

“Fine,” Davey concedes. He doesn't add “you can still call me cutie patootie though”, but he wants to.

Instead, he adds, “If you're wondering, and I don't blame you, I'm a selkie. So long as I have my pelt with me, I can be a human or a seal depending on which is most appropriate at the time. Without my pelt, I'm just plain old David.”

“Hey, you ain't plain!” Jack interjects kindly.

He pauses.

“Sorry I- well, actually that me ‘n’ all the fellas jumped to conclusions.”

“Its fine.” Davey murmurs as he nuzzles the pelt against his cheek, inhaling the familiar scent. His chest-feeling thrills a little at the fact he can smell Jack on it too. “Not the most logical of conclusions, is it?”

Jack shakes his head and offers out his hand as a silent peace offering, which Davey gladly accepts. Their hands pull away slowly when it is over, fingers lingering for want of touch.

“What's the writin’ on it mean, then? The, uh, the word on the skin bit.”

Davey's gaze breaks away from the point in the middle of the sea he's been staring out at.

“Oh, you mean this?” he asks, pointing to his mother's writing.

“Yeah. That word. Dàibhidh,” Jack reads, lips forming around the word in the clunky way all non-speakers’ lips do. His brow furrows in concentration. He looks so desperate to get it right. Davey's lips quirk up in a small smile, finding the effort utterly charming.

“Dàibhidh,” Davey repeats, tracing a thumb over the letters. His tongue wraps around the word from his birthplace’s tongue like he's greeting a long-lost lover. “My name, in the language of where Mama and I were both born. So mine and Sarah's pelts don't get mixed up.”

“So it's a family kinda thing? Damn, I wonder if my folks used t’be selkies?” Jack muses, idly drawing swirls and stars on his arm with a piece of charcoal he's taken from his pocket.

“There's only one way to know that. Have you ever felt a longing for the sea so bad you couldn't do anything but follow your feet down to the beach and dive in?”

Davey trails his fingers wistfully in the water as he waits for Jack's reply. A warm laugh bubbles up from his best friend’s throat.

“Not for the sea, no. But I can tell what you mean.”

“Oh. Right. Yeah. Santa Fe.”

“Nope.”

He tilts his head in confusion as he turns to look at Jack, who has an old paper set on the planks of the pier and is drawing on it. Curious, he scoots over to see what the picture is of. It's him, just a moment ago, laid flat on his stomach with his arm dangling downwards from the pier. It's in that moment he realises that Jack hasn't drawn Santa Fe in a long while, and that most of the drawings that decorate the Penthouse are of him. In that moment he also realises how tenderly Jack's looking at him, how soft his smile is (oh, those dimples will be the death of him) and how, if he ever did have to give up the sea forever, Jack is the one person he'd do it for. Maybe that's what love is, then. Maybe that's the name of the feeling in his chest. Maybe it's the name of the feeling in Jack's chest too. Now that it's been named, the feeling swells and swells until it bursts and Davey knows.

For just a second, Davey hesitates before he passes the sealskin to Jack. Something suddenly has made him braver than he's ever been in his life; braver than on the swim to America with his pod, braver than the day his dad got into the accident, braver than he was during the strike.

“You know,” he tells him, trying to keep his voice steady, “when a human gives a selkie back their skin, it counts as marriage in our culture. Well, not marriage exactly, more like eternal commitment, but it's got the same level of cultural importance. It means we trust that person enough to let them have control over our future, and they respect us enough to let us choose. The stories always say you know who you'll give your pelt to when you find them. And I know, I know, Jack, that it's you.”

Jack's mouth opens in an ‘O’ of surprise, his eyebrows raising as he realises what Davey just said, what Davey just did. His fingers trace lines between the spots on the pelt, feeling its warmth, Davey's warmth.

“An’... an’ you want me to…”

“If you don't want to, that's okay,” Davey clarifies, a horrible nausea settling in his stomach at the thought he's misread this situation. Jack probably doesn't want this. Maybe he’ll hate Davey now and never talk to him again. Or he'll take off running with the pelt and Davey won't ever see him again and won't ever be able to come back to the sea again, no matter how much the yearning in his chest hurts him.

“You can just put it down and I'll pick it up and we can forget this ever happened. That's probably what you want, isn’t it? I'm sorry, I'm a fool, I should have asked, shouldn't have assumed. I’ll just- just go, should be getting back to selling-”

He stops as he feels soft fur against his hands. Jack's callused fingers brush against his soft ones. A gasp escapes his throat as his sea-glass green eyes meet Jack's driftwood-brown ones. Then he's enveloped in a hug, strong arms closing around him and giving the exact amount of pressure that he likes. This feels right, feels comfortable. His instincts are gladly adapting to the change, labelling Jack as husband, dearest, darling, mine.

“How the hell are we gonna explain this?” Jack asks with a fond smile.

“I don't know. But I don't doubt we'll find a way. You're an extraordinary man, Jack Kelly, you know that?”

“No less than you are, Davey Jacobs.”

[ladylilithprime]

Day 18: Family Business

(Set in the Faerie Court of Avalon, NJ series. Sam is a half-faerie prince, Cas and Jimmy Novak are his husbands, and Jack is their adopted selkie son.)

THE END OF school and the start of summer was greeted with mixed reactions from the students at Middle Township High School. The final days of school were often shortened to half-days that were more shindig than scholastic, and many of the students in the freshman class just didn't bother going. In the higher grades it was a more mixed bag, some kids choosing to skip out so they could get a head start on summer job applications, while others stuck to the school schedule to avoid having to job hunt or, in the case of the graduating seniors, get any last minute help on college applications.

Newly-sixteen-year-old Jack Kline and his best friends, Matt Pike and Kaia Nieves, were a very mixed bag in that respect. All three of them had made it clear to their fellow classmates that they intended to spend the summer working, but the where and when they started was still a bit up in the air.

"Would've thought that was already settled," Krissy Chambers said where she sat straddling the bench at the lunch table.

"Why would you think that?" Matt asked, exchanging a confused glance with Jack. "I mean, it's a summer job, not a career. There's plenty of options, but not all the options are gonna be good fits for padding our respective college applications in two years...."

"Move, bitches," Kaia interrupted, sliding in between Matt and Krissy with an armful of sodas and snack bags. "We're in the final days so the pickings are a bit slim. What's your poison?"

"Cocaine," Jack deadpanned, laughing when Kaia flipped him off and slid a can of Cherry Coke across the table to him.

"I don't understand," Krissy said, absentmindedly grabbing a can of Sprite as she looked around the group. "I mean, I'm going to be working at the marina with my dad, Jack's obviously going to go work at that cafe his dads own--"

"No I'm not," Jack broke in, surprised. "I mean, yeah, Dad would hire me on for the summer if that's what I wanted, but I've actually got a lifeguard gig lined up at the beach."

"What?" Krissy's exclamation was echoed by two other kids, Jason Pond and Ben Braeden, who'd obviously been eavesdropping. Seeing that they were being acknowledged, Jason coughed and added, "Most of us kinda figured your dads would have you joining the family business right out of school, what with all three of them working there."

"And your mom, too," Ben added, which... what?

"My mom is dead, guys," Jack reminded them, getting a wince from Jason and Krissy and an eyeroll from Ben.

"Stepmom, then," Ben corrected himself. "Or whatever it is you call Miss Charlie."

"I call her Charlie," Jack said, sharing a bewildered look with Matt and Kaia. "Maybe Aunt Charlie if I wanna tease her for getting old or something, but she's not one of my parents." Frankly, Charlie was way more influential over Kaia than him, the way his best female friend had taken to emulating her whenever appropriate.

"Dude, did you just assume every fulltime employee at Lighthouse CommodiTeas was part of the polycule?" Kaia snorted, unintentionally reinforcing Jack's mental point, and full on laughing when Ben blushed. "Yeah, no. Charlie met Sam because her former girlfriend pointed her in his direction when she wanted to get her jackass corporate boss arrested for crimes against humanity or something. Cas and Jimmy came around for their own reasons and stayed because they fell for Sam and Sam fell right back."

"And all three of my dads also went to college before deciding to work in a cafe," Jack pointed out, bringing the conversation back around to the previous topic. "Multiple times in Dad's case since, y'know, fuctionally immortal half-faerie; I think he's got a couple of doctorates and a handful of masters degrees at this point. But Papa J and Papa C both went to college and got degrees in Communications and Technical Writing respectively, and when they first started talking about getting married Dad sat down with them to figure out ways they could put those degrees to proper use since they wouldn't have to worry about money anymore. And since they're all three functionally immortal, in a few decades they'll have probably found people they like and trust to take over the cafe or buy it and they'll go on to do something else."

"Really?" came from Ben, Jason, Krissy and, surprisingly, Matt.

"I kinda thought the cafe was your dads' passion project or something," Matt admitted to Jack's raised eyebrow, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Eh, for now, maybe?" Jack shrugged. "Dad opened the place originally when we moved here to give us both a touchstone with the broader community, but he only really considered expanding or building up the place a little after Papa C started baking there. So, like, it's a business that's run by my family, but it's not a family business, y'know? Not like the Three Black Cats diner run by the Banes family, or Krissy's dad's place at the marina."

"It honestly never occurred to me to make that distinction," Krissy admitted sheepishly. "I mean, it always seemed like a given that I'd go to school until I graduate and then come work with Dad. I mean, isn't that what most parents expect of their kids?"

Several loaded looks were shared around the table for a moment. Eventually, Matt sighed and set down his grape Fanta. "Look, my foster mom is a selkie sheriff and her girlfriend is a veterinarian, and they both encouraged me to decide for myself what I want to do. Meanwhile, my bio dad tried to sacrifice me to a pagan god to lift an ancient curse on tribal land his company was trying to commercialize, so I figure he doesn't get a vote anymore."

"I don't know who my bio parents were or what they did," Kaia said with a shrug. "And my foster parents were unenthused when my powers manifested, so I don't really care what they think, either."

"My mom works in a morgue," Jason added with a dry look. "With the Revelation and recent protections for folks like us, she doesn't have to, and she says I don't either if I want to do something else."

"Mom's a yoga instructor," Ben offered without elaborating.

"And we just went over what my dads do and why," Jack piped up, covering his cousin's reticence. "My mom was a selkie like me and worked as an underwater environmental lobbyist until my sperm donor stole her coat. She gave me to Dad in exchange for vengeance on the asshole as a way to protect me from being trapped and abused like she was, and Dad's done his best to fulfill that wish. So we all figure what I do is my choice, and being a lifeguard will look good for applying to Annapolis or getting into another college on a ROTC scholarship, get a degree that'll give me a flipper up with the Navy."

"Huh," Krissy sat back, looking a little troubled. "Am I being boring for just going to work for my Dad?"

"Nah," Matt shook his head.

"Kinda," Ben said, holding up his hands when Kaia glared at him, "but if it's what you really want to do, as a long term thing or even if you just want to do it while you look for something else to call to your passion, then our opinions don't mean shit."

"Choice matters," Jack added earnestly. "At the end of the day, no one can make your choices for you. Even if they think they can, you still have to agree to go along with it," he added with a flicker of a glance towards Ben, who ducked his head in a way that could've been a nod.

"Okay," Krissy nodded, looking a bit happier.

For a few minutes all of them just drank their sodas or munched on the chips, pretzels, and funions, each with their own set of thoughts. Eventually, Ben cleared his throat and glanced up at Jack.

"So, since you won't be going to work at the cafe," he said slowly, one finger tapping a finger against the near empty can, "you think your dad might be willing to hire me for the summer?"

"Only one way to find out," Jack said with a smirk. "Just don't call Charlie my mom again, for your own protection. You will get way too much information about her and Miss Dorothy."

"Dorothy Baum?"

"The school librarian?!"

Jack sat back and let his friends have their mental meltdowns over finding out about their librarian's lesbian love affair with his favorite aunt. It was times like this when he definitely understood Uncle Dean's propensity for mischief. Making a mental note to let his Dad know that Cousin Ben might be around looking for a summer job regardless of his mom's wishes to keep him away from their "bad influence", he settled in with his soda to enjoy the show.

[mxbluemarine]

One Piece inserts and their pokesonas because I've been poisoned and I need the world to know what's happening in my head

🏴‍☠️ Crim: Umbreon. Insert lesbian Absol x Umbreon post here

👒 Morgan: Clobbopus. Squishy little thing

🧡 Curly: Mareep. Ampharos maybe

🌴 Silas: Persian

♥️ Selkie: Dewgong. Shocking no one with a name like that

[oversharer-that-overshares]

Jack Frost is a selkie, and met kid!Hiccup while he was hiding exploring the island, on the other side of the village

They met once every 7 years (so, like, twice lmao the 2nd time he also met Toothless)

Hiccup met human!Jack when he was like 10, but by that point he'd been playing with a baby seal for years that he thought was lost bc the seal was always alone and it wasn't exactly common and he was always scared that it'd be eaten by a dragon sooner than later, so he also tried to find hiding places for it and if it could be on land and blablablabla

[mainenorth]

DRATCHET SELKIE AU

CRANKCASE/CONS4EVA SELKIE AU

CYGATE SELKIE AU

[conn-artist]

I am obsessed with my mermaid AU but anytime I try to draw it I run out of steam. Here is what I have from it this time:

It would be really cool if you could like/reblog this so my brain makes the good chemical and I can put more spoons in to sharing this.

Oh, also the idea is that these are Stephen’s notes from studying mermaids (+sirens +selkies)

[chimeofthecomet]

what if,, i take the silly little characters and put them in a Different scenario with ocean vibes and seal people,,,, are u on board with me

[tirednaturalist]

I am obsessed with my mermaid AU but anytime I try to draw it I run out of steam. Here is what I have from it this time:

It would be really cool if you could like/reblog this so my brain makes the good chemical and I can put more spoons in to sharing this.

Oh, also the idea is that these are Stephen’s notes from studying mermaids (+sirens +selkies)

[ts-porter]

The banging continued, echoing from Theo's front door, joined by a voice. "Theo? Theo, are you in?" The doorknob rattled.

"Coming!" Theo set his weaving aside and rushed to the door. I hopped quickly to the most shadowed corner, a space half-hidden behind a cross beam, where I was unlikely to be spotted. Theo opened the door, ushering in a big lantern-jawed human woman in a fur—no, a selkie with her mottled skin draped over her like a raincoat.

"There's been another," she said without preamble, sweeping the hood of her skin back.

"No." Theo's head and tail drooped. "Who was it?"

"James Murphy." The selkie shook her head sharply. "Damn fool just had to go check on his boat in the storm. Little bits of him were spread all the way down the dock to shore, like chum."

"Third humans in three days." Theo covered his mouth with one hand. "How bad is it out there?"

"Well, it's not good, I'll tell you that," the selkie said. "Those McConnell boys were out drumming up fear, until the weather drove them home, and that's before they found Ol' Murphy. This plays right into their hands."

"I should be out there," Theo's voice was quiet but intense. "I should be helping."

"Weren't you going to be hunting tonight?" the selkie asked, chin jutting out combatively. "I didn't expect to find you in."

"I was." Theo growled faintly. "The Spring-heeled Jacks have taken it into their fool heads that I'm involved. They've got me pinned down."

"You!?" The selkie seemed positively affronted. "I'd give those bouncy bastards a piece of my mind!" She tugged her fur back over her head. "Well, I'm off. Someone's got to spread the warning."

"Be safe," Theo said.

The selkie barked a rough laugh, flashing a disconcertingly wide mouthful of pointy teeth, and was gone.

-- Excerpt from 'Spring-heeled Jack and the Wolfman', by me, a novella for whom I can find no publisher.

so if there’s one single trope i’m always down to fight it’s the animal bride (folklore motif 402??) which a lot of you are probably familiar with as the selkie - the fisherman either falls in love, steals her skin to trap her on land/gain power over her, or they fall in love and THEN he steals her skin to keep her from leaving, and either way she spends a lot of time gazing sadly out to sea and then she or her child finds the skin and never returns again. and that’s awful on a whole lot of levels - it’s not love, it’s control.

BUT. but the thing is. you how selkies/seal women was a pretty common variation of this? another really popular one was swans.

i just want you to think about that for a moment. swans. like…I get it, they’re pretty, graceful birds, certainly it’s easy to imagine them magically becoming pretty graceful ladies? but have you ever fought a swan. swans are awful. swans are the devil’s geese. imagine seeing a pretty magic lady and being absolutely enchanted by her, and stealing her magic feather cloak, and then you go up and say ‘hey i’m in love with you, let me make you my queen, it will be great, we’ll be so happy’ and she just looks at you for a moment and…

you know i was going to say maybe she just shouts for her sisters and suddenly you’re realizing you’ve made a terrible terrible mistake bc you’re surrounded by big fucking birds who are all hissing. but honestly if this swan lady is as aggressively down to brawl as any other generally unhappy swan, then she’d straight up fuck you up on her own. she’d just deck you roundhouse, honestly. you don’t fuck with swans. why does this trope exist

[crow-aeris]

Chapter 3 of my 2024 Mermay is up, titled Opalite Scales

And thats Siren Song filled! if any of yall have questions about this au, then feel free to ask! :3

[timmydraker]

Tim Drake is a selkie.

No one outside of Janet Drake knows this, and she ensure it is kept a secret purely for the fact that if it gets out people will quickly realise that neither she nor Jack is a selkie themselves.

They would realise that Janet had an affair.

The man she had met on their trip overseas had gotten her pregnant and then vanished, seemingly disappearing into thin air.

It wasn’t until Tim was born that she was sure it was the other man’s child, if not for the distinctly black hair than the smooth pelt like band around his wrist.

His father had one similar and he refused to take it off.

The first time Tim transformed was luckily when Janet was still sure she wanted to be a mother and was bathing him at just four months old. When the little boy with bright blue eyes suddenly went quiet and then rolled over in the bath, she watched as he turned into a small baby seal.

Janet had screeched and backed up in shock, only to watch as the seal looked at her with big black eyes and seemingly start to cry before he shifted back into Tim.

The band around his wrist came off and was the perfect shape of the seals pelt from earlier, sitting in the tub like it hadn’t just shifted Janet’s entire life out of balance.

Naturally she hid the hide and made sure Tim never saw it again, especially when there were no more shifting incidents.

Tim was nine when he found it and well accustomed to his parents lying to him about a range of things, all varying in importance. They lied about when they would be home, about stocking the fridge, about being at his science fair…

But when Tim was sneaking into his mums closet to try find one of her spare credit cards, he found the pelt and something in him felt whole.

Tim had always felt like something wasn’t right about him. He felt like his very body was missing, or maybe his soul, and no matter what he did he couldn’t find a way to fill that gap. Being in water helped, so did showers and sunlight, though it was never enough.

It was why he started skating and stalking Batman and Robin, just to distract himself.

Photography worked best though.

Yet as he reached a tentative hand out to touch the pelt he swore he could feel himself being put back together like a puzzle.

Tim didn’t shift straight away, not when he was left stuck in the blissful feeling of his skin feeling right for the first time he could recall.

It was when he watched the pelt shift to wrap around his bare arm like a sleeve that he shifted.

The seal form he took wasn’t what he expected, but of course it wasn’t.

From then on Tim would spend every chance he got with the pelt, learning to control both the shifting of his skin and how to disguise the hide on his person. He usually kept it as some kind of band that covered his arm or waist, keeping it close to his hand at all times so he could check that it was safe.

He never wore it when his parents were home, just in case.

Naturally, he did research and learnt what he was as best he could.

By the time Janet realised he was taking the hide out of its hiding spot he was thirteen and almost finished his Robin training. He had kept it hidden from Batman if only because he was scared and not even sure if his mother really knew what it was, but when he came home to find her in his room he knew it was over.

She had held out her hand and said in the calmest voice she could, “hand it over, Timothy.”

Tim didn’t.

Janet had stood up and gripped his wrist, quickly finding the pelt around his arm and yanking it off of him.

Tim had cried, not out of physical pain but mental. It was like he was being put under some kind of spell and he found himself unable to move to snatch it back as Janet held the now pelt in a too tight grip.

“You will not touch this again, you hear me? I’m going to burn it.”

And she tried, she really did, but then Tim started to scream. The loud, echoing wails rang through the entire mansion until Jack rushed to his son and tried to figure out what the hell was wrong with him.

Janet only stopped when Jack started calling for her to call an ambulance and she came up with the badly damaged pelt to find her son seizing on the floor with his skin burning red.

Tim calmed down quickly once she put it under water, but he was still shaking and sobbing wildly.

He never found out how she managed to convince Jack to not call for an ambulance or to leave them alone, and Tim tried not to think about how little Jack had to care for him to accept so easily.

Janet had given him the pelt back and watched him sob as he held it to his chest and wailed.

The next trip they went on lasted seven months and in that time he spent as much as he could in his seal form to focus on healing his damaged skin.

It was still burnt, ugly scars covering the bottom and entire left side of his fur, but he learnt to maintain it.

After that he kept the pelt hidden under armour in the Robin uniform.

When Jason attacked him he cut the pelt through his armour, not knowing it was there. He managed to not cut it in half and in a twisted irony got right over where it wasn’t scarred.

Tim managed to hide it from Batman but at that point he was sure that Alfred suspected something.

Yet it wasn’t until Damian that anyone found out.

At that point Tim felt safe enough to have his pelt kept as a thick band around his wrist, out and open but only in the manner.

As much as he wanted to hate him, Tim couldn’t blame Damian when after a year and a half of him being there and the two working out a few differences and issues, he noticed. Tim hadn’t worn it visible since he first arrived and tried to kill Tim, but he had subconsciously felt safer around Damian and the boy was the best at spitting changes in others appearance.

“Oh.”

Bruce had looked up at Damian while Tim minded his business stirring his tea, “what’s up, chum?”

Damian pointed to Tim’s wrist, “I was not aware you were a Selkie, Drake. I apologise if I damaged you pelt in my attacks.”

Tim had tensed so badly that he was sure that Superman could hear his joints locking even though he was off planet.

Naturally Tim started to hyperventilate when Bruce asked with genuine confusion, “What?”

Tim bolted to his room as quickly as he could and shut the door before sliding down it and clutching his pelt-band to his chest with his free hand.

It could have been a few seconds or minutes, but it felt like a whole hour before Tim heard a knock at the door and the calm, gentle voice of Bruce talking through it.

“Tim? Can you open up for me please?”

Shaking his head even when the other couldn’t see, Tim let out a whimper and crawled quickly to the bathroom as his panic took over.

By the time he heard the door open he was in his preferred form of a half seal, his lower body only and the skin of his back shifted, and clutching his inhuman lower body.

Bruce came in and stared at him in shock for a bit before swallowing.

Coming to sit beside the tub, Bruce reached over and turned on the tap to let water begin to run into the tub.

Tim was grateful if not a little confused by the action and finally got the courage to look up at him.

Bruce looked awkward as hell, but was clearly trying if the small smile on his face was any evidence.

Reaching a big hand over, he held it palm up for Tim until the young man reached out to accept it and placed his own now damp hand in his.

“I… I don’t know what exactly you are, but I do know that you are my son. Damian seems to think I should know already and maybe I should, but not because you didn’t tell me. As much as it pains me to say it, I get why you wouldn’t trust me.”

Tim shook his head, “I trust you, Bruce. I just… the less people who know, the less likely I’ll loose my pelt again.”

Bruce frowned but said nothing about what that implied , though Tim knew he’d be asked about it later. It didn’t help that his lower half showed the most of his burn scars.

“I’m sorry, Tim. I can’t change what has been done, but I can promise you I will never, ever take you pelt form you. I don’t know ow exactly what it means, I’ve never heard of a selkie before, but Damian seemed to think it was important.”

Tim smiled even as he wondered how Damian knew what his pelt was.

Bruce gave his hand a squeeze, “He seemed to gain a lot more respect for you because of it.”

Damian spoke from where he was at the door, making Tim jump and Bruce inhale in a way that showed he was taken off guard, “Of course I have. Selkies are nearly extinct and Timothy had survived to almost nineteen without loosing his pelt.”

Tim fully shifted in his shock.