#thank you selkie

[on-a-lucky-tide]

Hi Lovely, just dropping by to say that you can totally decline weigh ins if not extremely necessary. You're a fantastic writer, you've got excellent music taste and clearly are funny at hell. Plus you can probably lift every twat nurse who tuts and scoffs at you, they shouldn't every judge you.

If you're up for it, I'd die for some NikPrice in a proper sex shop (Not a gag/gimmick one) or maybe a lil NikPrice who want to bring in a certain delightfully sassy sergeant to their dynamic.

Head up, we are all here to support you!

😊

Thank you for this, Selkie. It was a massive boost going in. So, Nikprice in a sex shop, eh? Well, obviously I had to visit Prowler to, uh, check it still looks the same as the last time I visited. Here we go...

Nik and John visit ProwlerRED in Soho as Nik helps John take those first tentative steps in exploring his sexuality.

cw: fetishwear, inexperienced and nervous sub, teasing Nikolai.

Price stood opposite the shop and stared at the giant white paw on the black banner between the ground and first floor, his hands buried deep in the pockets of his coat, his beanie pulled low around his ears to disguise the hot flush colouring them a deep red.

They stood at the crossroads. Passersby dipped into the gutter to get around them on their way down Old Compton Street and Price stepped back a little further as a cyclist hopped the pavement, swerving a stationary taxi that was blocked from turning into Dean Street. Price's eyes would make it to the window eventually, but first he needed to get over the road.

"We should go in," Nik said, exhaling the last breath of cigarette smoke as he ground it out under his boot. This had been his idea. He had spotted Price eyeing up some of the leathermen at the bar the previous evening, and teased his interest out of him under the duvet of their exorbitantly expensive hotel bed. It was hard to keep secrets from Nik when his hands and mouth were on ya... Some kinda witchcraft.

Price knew what leathermen were. It was impossible not to when your old man had been both a sergeant in the armed forces and a keen biker. It was a joining of the two things together; the latent homoeroticism of a career and a hobby that had been, at the time, completely male dominated. His old man had been predictably foul in his judgements of his fellow soldiers, but Price had been fascinated. He'd avoided looking too deeply at why he found them so--

Price was... he was interested, alright? Something about the way that the leather looked on a man's body; the harnesses, the jackets, the jock straps. He didn't much care for the caps or the police shirts. If he wanted to wear a cap, he'd give in to Mac's relentless naggin' and get promoted, you know, wear a cap that came with a bloody salary increase, and Peelers weren't exactly high in his esteem.

It was the smell and the texture of the leather against sweat, the slide of it across hard and soft curves as leashes and harnesses shifted, the sound of belts snapping together, watching the dominant partner haul their willing subordinate around and the responding trust. The relief and pleasure on faces that weren't covered by masks, moans muffled by gags. That looked good. Real good.

Imagining Nik's hand wound through a--

Price swallowed.

"John?"

"Hold up, I'm gettin' there. Don't rush me." Price bristled, shoulders rising up around his ears. He didn't even need to look at Nik to know what his face was doin'; Price could feel his grin like atmospheric pressure and it rankled him. "This ain't funny, Nik."

"It is funny," Nik said, arms folded across his big chest, open palm tapping his own elbow. "This is not live fire fight or hostage situation. You need to relax."

"I'm perfectly relaxed," Price said, immediately dropping his shoulders and sniffing when Nik raised his eyebrow. He bounced on his toes and coughed, aiming for nonchalant, but knew his eyes were wider than a rabbit's gazing into oncoming headlights. "See, fine."

"It is just a shop."

"I can see that."

"The owner is half your size."

"Oh yeah? You well acquainted?"

"Fairly."

"Course y'are." Price's cheeks reddened and he scrubbed a hand through his beard. "Alright. Ground rules. Nothin' that's sharp or... Let's just stick to the harness."

Nik hummed and started crossing the road. Price tried to grab his arm to get at least some verbal agreement, but Nik had already skipped up the opposite curb and was looking through the window. Price waited for a black cab to pass and then jogged over to stand at his side. He could see himself in the reflection of the window, hunkered low. "Is that a leather pig mask?"

"Da," Nik said, examining a full body harness with a metal cock ring at the groin. Price hazarded a glance at what had Nik so interested and his heart skipped a beat, his fingers curling into fists inside his pockets . Nik tapped his elbow. "Come." Price let Nik take his elbow and drag him through the door on the corner of the building, his breath held for... fuck knows what reason.

The first thing that hit him was the smell. The same smell as the bar the evening before, except without the added layer of sweat that had made his mouth water. It was sharp, clean. Behind the mannequins in the window were two railings of leather harnesses, and along the walls were racks of leather shirts and trousers. Fairly... innocuous, really. It could have been a biker's shop if it had helmets instead of masks, and less lube on the shelves.

"Hey," called a faintly accented voice from behind the counter, Price would guess Polish but Nik would get a better read. "Let me know if you need anything." She had enough metal in her mouth that kissing her would risk a stab wound, and Price found himself counting the studs when Nik cleared his throat.

"Da, thank you, we may need help with sizing."

She shrugged. "The best thing to do is try 'em on. There's a changing room round the corner," she jutted her thumb over her shoulder, "and two downstairs with the toys and bondage. Just no underwear, yeah?" With that, she turned back to untangling the pile of leather paraphernalia and hangers on the counter.

Nik seemed distracted by something on the far wall, so Price took the opportunity to examine the shelves behind the shop assistant. Aromas. A fair number of them, in fact. Price had seen a few of the lads holding them at the bar, but googling "aroma" and "disk cleaner" had yielded completely innocuous Amazon searches.

"You will not need those, solnyshko," Nik called, so Price continued to tentatively explore, hands still stuffed deep in his pockets.

His gaze wandered to a pile of flyers at the edge of the counter. "Boot blacking," Price murmured. "Is that what I think it is?"

"Da," Nik said softly, appearing at his shoulder with two harnesses in his hand. "It is a kink, but also good for repairing tired equipment."

"Fuckin 'ell, gettin' the troopers to buff their boots proper is like pullin' teeth, and these lot do it for jollies? Is he... Is he lickin' it?"

Nik chuckled and took the flyer out of Price's hand, stroking a finger over the bristles on Price's chin before twining their fingers together. "Perhaps if you put on a jock strap and licked their boots they might be more, hmm, proactive, no?"

"I'll run it by brass," Price said with a wry smirk, letting Nik pull him down the narrow staircase to the basement level.

His eyes blew wide once they'd adjusted to the dim lighting. Now that was what he had actually expected when Nik had said "fetish shop". The walls were crammed with an assortment of delightful looking torture devices from whips to gags to masks that covered everything but the mouth. There was a rack of staggeringly big silicone cocks, and Price felt the heat creeping back up his neck again at how bloody real some of them looked. And big. So fuckin' big.

He was so out of his bloody depth here.

The display case to the right of the stairs as they reached the bottom was filled with the weirdest collection of dildos he had ever seen in his life. He stooped down, hands on his knees, and peered inside. "Fuck me, that one's thicker than my thigh. Nik, there's no... Nik, come here. There's no way that fits. What the fuck is that meant to be?" He pressed his fingertip to the glass at what looked like a tentacle with little nodules all over it.

"John, here." Nik beckoned him over and Price sidled over to stand at his side, casting one final alarmed look into the display case. On the wall, there was an array of cuffs and collars, all with slightly different fastenings, studs and coloured linings. Nik took one of Price's hands and placed it on the nearest pair of cuffs, pressing against Price's back, his chin on his shoulder, palm on his belly to keep him close. "Choose."

"I thought we said just the harness..." Price murmured, but he could barely hear the words leave his own mouth, too fixated on the feel and smell of expensive leather. His toes curled in his boots as he pressed his fingers inside the circle of a cuff, slipping out the other side to nudge one of the metal links and stroke around the smooth edge of the buckle.

These weren't the laughably flimsy handcuffs Price had used previously in his, admittedly, limited sex life. The kind where the plastic broke through the cheap fur and cut your skin if you pulled too hard. Tokenisitic in their restraint. These were sturdy, unyielding; they would be completely unbreakable, even by a body like his. The thought of Nik securing Price's wrists to the headboard, working his hands down his body, made Price's damn prick twitch.

Nik nuzzled the side of his neck, bringing him back to the present, and he picked up a solid black pair like the ones he had seen on a man last night. They had a single silver loop each and a thick buckle. The leather was stiff, clean and unblemished, and Price flexed them a little in his palms. "Uh, these." His reward was a soft kiss just beneath his ear, and Nik reached a little higher to pluck the matching collar from the top row of hooks.

"Try them on, with your shirt off," Nik said. "I will wait here. Take your time." He placed the harness in Price's hands and nudged him towards the narrow changing cubicle. Price hesitated, glancing back up at the stairs and then into the shop proper. Nik placed a palm at the small of his back and pressed his nose to the side of Price's face. "It is fine. I will not allow anyone to see."

"Right, yeah..." Price ducked beneath a silk sash hanging from the railing as Nik nudged him forward. He figured if people were down here looking for a birch to take stripes out of them, seeing some battered old soldier in a leather harness wouldn't faze them too much. And that's what he told himself as he yanked the curtain across and shucked his shirt over his head.

The harness seemed to have more buckles than entirely necessary at first inspection, and he turned it over and over in his hands, checking the model on the label to work out how it should sit. It was sturdy, with silver studs and thick metal, and he felt that same throb of arousal as he handled it.

"John, is ok?"

"Yeah, yeah, fine, jus'... workin' it out."

In the end, Price pulled open one of the side buckles and ducked into it. The leather was chill on his skin and his nipples pulled tight as he sat the straps just above them. Once he'd fastened the buckle back in place, he glanced into the mirror through his eyebrows, hesitant.

The yellowing bruise on his ribs from the last op was beginning to fade, the scrapes all but healed into thin pink lines, and he had the usual litany of scars he was used to seeing by now.

He looked... good.

It sat well around his shoulders, framing the furred curves of his chest by sitting just above the line of his nipples, the silver d-ring between his tits. The straps beneath his arms sat just above his obliques, following the line of muscle comfortably.

Fuck, it made him look... made him look broad, strong, with his jeans belted at his narrow hips, his operation-ready athletic physique well-complemented, and he stood up a little straighter, jutting his chin. He'd expected to feel like a dog, maybe a bit demeaned, but when he flexed into the leather, heard the stiff straps creak a bit, he felt fuckin' powerful.

Next were the cuffs. He wrapped them around each wrist, turning them around until the silver rings sat on the top and the buckles beneath. The lining was slightly padded, lending to a snug fit.

"How does it feel?" Nik asked, close to the curtain.

"Yeah, s'nice. Like, uh, it fits well."

Price grabbed the collar and then pushed the curtain aside a bit, his eyes fixed on the floor as he felt the heat creeping up his neck again. He heard Nik's breath catch and then a soft curse whispered in awestruck Russian.

"Not bad, right?" Price asked, trying for cocksure but coming out shy.

Nik said nothing. He took the collar from Price's hand and wrapped it carefully around his neck, using his forefinger to stop the leather biting as he threaded the strap through. The moment it pulled tight enough for Price to feel it, he let out a soft gasp, his hands lifting to latch onto Nik's wrist, a sudden panic beating a little harder in his chest.

"Easy, solnyshko," Nik said gently, leaning in to kiss him. Price's grip relaxed, and he drew in a shaky breath. Nik took his hands. "Here, let me show you how it would feel with your wrists secure. If you feel unsafe, you must tell me, da?"

"Is... Is anyone down here?"

"Nyet. We are alone."

"Ye-yeah, right... Yeah." Price swallowed as Nik moved his arms behind his back, lifting each wrist until he could attach the cuffs to the d-ring at the back of the harness. When Nik was done, he stepped back, his broad shoulders blocking out the rest of the shop as he appraised the man before him.

"Krasivyy..." Nik said, reaching to lift Price's chin from where it was tilted down. John kept his head up as Nik's hands roamed his body, following the line of the leather straps over his clavicles to his upper chest, leaving goosebumps of pleasure in his wake.

Price watched Nik's eyes darken with desire and felt like the hottest piece of arse this side of the Thames; he flexed cheekily into the straps and Nik's lips twitched. The control in this wasn't so clear cut, was it? Price had assumed he'd be the one under the boot, but watching Nik's reaction made it clear he had more power than he'd assumed. Nik was enraptured, his arousal clear in the heated caress of his palms and fingers.

Price wanted to lean into his hands, arch like a damn cat. His stomach pulled tight as Nik stroked just above his nipples, following the line of the harness beneath his arms and making him flex and shiver. It was too much, too sensitive, and he let out a soft, strangled noise, squirming as heat gathered in his hips. He couldn't stop Nik from touching him, couldn't push his hands away, and that made his blood run south, hot and urgent. "Mm, Nik... Please... I..."

"You are... breath taking like this," Nik said, lifting a hand to hook the collar and draw Price to him. The experience of being drawn to Nik's chest like that, having to trust those strong arms would catch him, made Price groan softly. He buried his face into Nik's neck, arching only when Nik's hands swept down his back, gently stroking the burn scars at the base before dropping lower to squeeze his arse. "If I could, I would have you here."

"Fuck," Price breathed, grinding forward to feel the hard line of Nik's cock. "Guess we're buyin' this then..."

"Da, and one or two other things."

"Nik."

"Nothing sharp. Nothing to hurt you, John. I promise."

"You could never hurt me." Price had never been so certain of anything in his life.

Nik took the back of the harness and pulled Price away from him, lifting his chin so their eyes met. "This is important. So listen," Nik said. "Sometimes hurt is not physical pain in this. It can be feeling unsafe, it can be feeling too overwhelmed. I may push too far, and you must be honest with me."

Nik looked so serious and Price could only nod, the corners of his eyes crinkling with affection. Fuck, Nik cared about him so fuckin' much and it made Price's heart feel all kinds of warm. "So, what... We, uh, we need safe words and the like?" He flashed a lopsided grin and Nik kissed him on the forehead with a low chuckle.

"Da. We will discuss. Now, get dressed. I wish to get you back to the hotel."

"Yes, sir."

"John..."

"Sorry, couldn't help it."

"If you wish to call me sir in our bedroom, then I would not be opposed."

"Bet you fuckin' wouldn't..."

"I see you are going to be, what to say... a brat." Nik swatted Price's arse before he undid the cuffs from the back of the harness and drew the curtain across.

Price almost felt sad about taking the harness off, savouring the phantom sensation of it on his skin even when he pulled his t-shirt and coat back on. He lingered in the cubicle, squeezing his prick through his jeans with a grimace, and only re-emerged once it had calmed enough to be bloody discreet.

Nik was waiting at the bottom of the stairs. He was holding a coil of rope, a leash and what looked to be an anal toy of some kind. "It is remote control," Nik said with a roguish little smirk when he saw Price looking, before jogging up the stairs.

"Bloody 'ell," Price breathed, following behind him.

Nik flashed the plastic and purchased the lot, despite Price fumbling through his coat for his wallet. "This is treat for me," Nik said when Price glared at him, plucking the opaque black bags from the counter.

"'M worried what I've unleashed here," Price replied once Nik had thanked the assistant and they were heading for the door.

"Ah, I believe it is I that have leashed you, no?"

"Ha-fucking-ha, corny bastard."

Nik grabbed John's hand and looked far too proud of himself, his smile so bright and handsome that Price's heart felt light. He didn't let go of Price's hand as they strolled back towards the station, and Price felt his heart swell as he glanced down at their intertwined fingers, his lower lip between his teeth.

Today was a day of firsts: his first visit to a bloody sex shop, and the first time in his life he had ever held a lover's hand, head up, chest out, as he walked down the street. When in London, eh?

[miraculosus]

Cowboy noir wanted for kitty crimes!!!!! I was so obsessed with this sketch @heartfulselkie drew (below) I couldn’t resist asking to ink and color it 🤠🤠🤠 I love him so much

[dragonpyre]

Commission for @sreppub who asked for selkie Jason and Duke based of this pic

Commission info ko-fi

[pistachi0art]

Could we have selkie Gordon and Benrey leaning in for a kiss only for Gordon to bite him. Kiss is to scary for Gordon!! Attack!

no kiss kiss??

[i3utterflyeffect]

cursor selkie sc (due to some unlikely plot contrivance) in god with a bag of groceries au would be so funny...bystanders watching god pass by with a bag of groceries, followed by tiny god with a packet of cookies. adorable.

ANON... YOUR MIND..........

[bebemoon]

Could I ask what are your favorite Selkie looks from the new collection? xx

sure ! ^^

[phoenixmetaphor]

ranger!Leon (and Bingo) from @thebrandywine‘s d&d au [constitution saving throw]

[dizaryswrites]

Chapters: 6/? Fandom: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU, DCU (Comics) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson & Alfred Pennyworth, Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson & Jason Todd, Tim Drake & Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake & Dick Grayson Characters: Dick Grayson, Bruce Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth, Jason Todd, Tim Drake Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Merpeople, Dick Grayson is a Ray of Sunshine, Bruce Wayne Tries to Be a Good Parent, Protective Bruce Wayne, Fluff, Family Bonding, Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne Bonding, Kid Dick Grayson, It's just so cute, Good Parent Bruce Wayne, Jason Todd Needs A Hug, Good Sibling Jason Todd, Protective Dick Grayson, Tim Drake Has Issues Series: Part 2 of Mer!Batkids

Chapter 6

Jason Todd was alive.

He’d been alive for a while now, going from place to place, teacher to teacher, growing from boy to man. He continued to celebrate each day above the dirt with one of his new hobbies: sitting in a half full bathtub and sobbing.

[Continue Reading on AO3]

[acatpiestuff]

Commission for @divatheeva !

[laurasimonsdaughter]

I am so so happy and honoured to finally hold an actual physical copy of A Sweet Sting of Salt by @rosesutherlandwrites in my very own selkie loving hands~

And it's signed 💙💙💙

[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.”

[tennessoui]

You're a wonderful writer, you deserve all the treats! 🎃🍭🍬🍫🍦🧁✨

awww thank you so much 🥹🥹

it is no longer halloween but i have a couple of trick or treat asks that i didn't get to cause my time management leaves a lot to be desired & little time to desire it lol so to spare people's dashes but to not leave anyone in the wind, i'm gonna respond to all of them in one long post :D (this one)

see beneath the cut!! you guys did great there were like almost no repeats even though there statistically probably should have been???

🍬🍬 hello thank you 🧡

i already answered a kuwsk one, so for roadtrip au....

here is a little drabble from an upcoming scene in the roadtrip au (squick tag:a/b/o):

Obi-Wan narrows his eyes in his direction. "What's wrong, Anakin?" "Nothing," he says. Shit, that came out too fast. Obi-Wan's eyes narrow further, like he agrees. "You've been acting strangely all day," the love of his life says. "You didn't even say anything when I pointed out the pancake house for breakfast. You didn't even say anything when I got a cinnamon roll at the coffee shop!" "You had two servings of vegetables yesterday," Anakin mumbles, placing both hands on the wheel and looking at the road. Maybe if he pretends this stretch of flat wasteland road in front of him is the most interesting thing in the world and requires his entire concentration, Obi-Wan will drop the subject. Obi-Wan does not seem to pick up on this. He scoffs instead, and crosses his arms. "When has that ever been enough to you? Since this entire thing started?" "Obi-Wan--" "And we've been listening to my podcast for the past two hours!And you haven't mentioned it once!" "Fine," Anakin snaps, tightening his hands and then loosening his grip with effort. "Fine, congratulations. Yeah, something's wrong. I'm working through it though, okay?" On his side of the car, Obi-Wan draws himself up, and then seemingly shrinks himself down a moment later. "Is--" his hand falls onto Anakin's arm before it drops away. "Is this...because of the other night?" Anakin's jaw clenches. Them having sex hasn't just been kept to the other night. They fucked their way through all of North Dakota and Montana over the course of the last two days. But sure, the other night. "No." "Because if it is--" the omega's voice is timid and it makes Anakin's chest hurt. "You're not wearing my clothes," Anakin blurts out. "You smell different and I hate it and I know it's stupid and weird and some Dark Ages Alpha bullshit, but you need to be wearing my shirt or I'm going to fucking lose my mind, Obi-Wan." The words draw Obi-Wan up short. Anakin cuts his eyes to the side and he can see his omega's mouth hanging slightly open. Anakin taps his tongue against the back of his teeth. Great, now he sounds like some insane micro-managing lunatic. "And I think I'm going into rut." Now he sounds like a horny micromanaging lunatic. Perfect.

👻 ahh trick or treat for the naughtiest au that deserves NO treats!! 🧡

some nasty info on the cheating au i haven't talked about like. all their flying lessons. when obi-wan and anakin start fucking (before they're in love with each other), obi-wan devises a plan to get anakin alone more often so they can fuck on the weekends and not just at their places of work lol. it involves complaining to padmé about needing to really learn how to fly now that his uh valet has retired. he can't get a new one. no, that's not an option. so does padmé know anyone who flies very well and would be down to perhaps teaching him in their free time?

and padmé is like oh i do actually! my husband anakin is a very good flier. would you like me to connect you two? he came with me to your party.

and obi-wan is like i think i remember him :> he would be...available?

and anakin is guilty but very available

so they mostly spend all their flying lessons fucking in the cock pit because obi-wan's been able to fly since he was a kid. padmé learns about this either after the very end where she finds out about their affair, OR she learns about it in the lead up to the very end where she's feeling very suspicious but she's been ignoring it for THIS long so.....

🧛‍♀️🦇

trick or treat 🧡

twilight au 🧡

a headcanon for the twilight au! obi-wan's biggest pet peeve with anakin is that he absolutely hates being guided or directed in any way. he fights just to fight and obi-wan enjoys putting him in place but it would be fucking easier if anakin didn't spend so much time arguing over like. how many vegetables he should have a day. and how much water he needs to drink. obi-wan is a licensed doctor like 36 times over for fuck's sake.

anakin's biggest pet peeve is obi-wan constantly tries to mind trick him to see if his immunity will falter or fail. anakin's like for the love of god obi-wan im not a science experiment, jesus christ--'

and obi-wan hisses (cause vampire), and obi-wan's like 'you can't tell me you didn't just want to see if that was just a vampire myth'

assholes to each other <3 for eternity <3

😈 trick or treat 👽

omg smithsonian au......you know what they do for halloween, these two fuckers?? padmé invites everyone over to her (very fancy apartment) for pumpkin carving and obi-wan and anakin are so fucking annoying. they turn into a competition about who can carve the best pumpkin. obi-wan calls anakin's first attempt (a cat face) lowbrow (obi-wan carved a jellyfish), and anakin throws pumpkin guts into obi-wan's hair (he's a ginger, no one will even be able to tell!)

it goes on and on until padmé dismisses them from her apartment because it's either that or carve into anakin and obi-wan.

after getting kicked out of pumpkin carving they accidentally go on a romantic autumnal walk. they stop at a street light and anakin picks pumpkin guts out of obi-wan's hair.

it makes them feel so many things they're not mature enough to talk about

trick or treat! 🎃😸

oh ho ho the cult au! that doesn't even have a tag! (but basically it's an au where jedi obi-wan is tasked with investigating a Force adjacent cult on the desert planet Tatooine, and it's anakin obviously who is so powerful in the force he's made a whole cult out of it and sets his sights on obi-wan as his forever partner)

here is a 3 line drabble!

The boy's head tilts, and his eyes are heavy, piercing gold. They pin Obi-Wan in place even from across the room. It is immediately completely obvious who among the people in this room has influenced the Force. Even though the boy could not be more than twenty, his entire presence radiates pure power. Obi-Wan has never felt a Force signature so aggressive, so strong. For the first time since he heard the rumors, since the Council handed him the file for this mission, Obi-Wan can believe that there is a Child of The Force on this desert planet. A demi-god, whose attention can change futures, destinies-- "Approach," the boy commands, extending a hand out over the empty space surrounding him. "Obi-Wan Kenobi."

trick or treat 👽🎃

hello hello the selkie au <3

here is a bit of background thought on the selkie au! one of the things i include in most fics/characterizations of anakin is that he's a pretty one partner for life kind of person (in that he married padmé after being obsessed with her forever in canon, and one of my favorite fanons is that his very first crush/sexual awakening was obi-wan and then he would have totally married obi-wan if obi-wan was a bit different character)

but in selkie au, anakin has a very long history of dating/trying to fall in love, which is like pretty unique in my writing!

and obi-wan probably has like only a few partners he's been head over heels with, and he falls really hard for anakin which makes their (temporary) break up so much harder for him personally

trick or treat ! 😈

and omg for the space actors au??? ok ok

so obi-wan and anakin are in a holo film where they have to be jedi which will mean very serious research

and they absolutely go to the jedi temple and fuck in like a few sacred places, but tbh so many other jedi have also fucked there so that it's no big deal......even if they get caught.....and even if the make-up department has to spend a small fortune covering up their hickies they somehow got on a "research trip"

(the holonet runs a scandalous article about which jedi broke their vows of celibacy and slept with famed actor anakin skywalker?)

(obi-wan is offended that his handiwork is not recognized)

(the jedi order has to put out a statement to say that actually there are no enforced vows of celibacy though jedi may choose to follow whichever personal vows they would like)

(and if a jedi slept with anakin skywalker, the jedi council has decided they do not want to know. or hear about it anymore. thank you.)

🎃 trick or treat 🦇

i actually got asked for lslm 3 more times after you sent this in, but you were the first to ask after lslm so congrats on beating the crowd haha

ok sooooo here's a bit of the new chapter (remember, anakin's discovered that padmé has a golden wolf's mask in her luggage, what the council's intelligence has said is what the traitor will be wearing):

Padmé's eyes are unreadable when she looks back up at him. He’s been compromised. Fucking stars. He’s been compromised within the first five minutes of his mission. The enemy—the alpha in the golden wolf’s mask—she knows he is lying, she knows who he is, and she’s dangerous. She’s dangerous, and Obi-Wan is here. Anakin can feel his shoulders straightening at the reminder. Obi-Wan is here, sharing the same air as Amidala, the woman who now knows too much. If Anakin is compromised, it will only be a few minutes before Obi-Wan is compromised as well. Obi-Wan will not be threatened on this mission. Anakin will not allow it, even if it means silencing Amidala himself. She had shown him kindness and compassion when he had been nothing but a slave. And then again when he had been nothing but a boy crying out for his master. But it seems she’s forgotten what loyalty is.  Anakin can remind her. But before he can step forward into her personal space, slip control of his pheromones so that all she can smell is willing omega, tease her fingers before interlacing them with his own and pulling her out of the entrance room into a more private location—before he can take the first step towards extinguishing this threat to his alpha’s safety, someone touches Padmé’s bare shoulder.

trick or treat!! 🎃👻

a fish hook, an open eye--what a fic, thank you for sending this and therefore reminding me of it lol 🧡

hm quick head canon for this fic is....anakin actually honestly makes obi-wan a better person and sorta saves the galaxy. see, he would have stopped at nothing to take down the jedi order, but then anakin comes into his life and all his priorities sort of change.

mostly cause anakin doesn't really care about ruling the galaxy. he's very family focused (thanks, obi-wan) and he wants his family to be safe and hidden -- probably because a lot of sidious' initial teaching enforced in him that safe = hidden

and obi-wan...he doesn't actually want to give up his dreams and he would sure love to see the jedi die for no other reason than they're stingy about who gets to use the Force or whatever, but....he likes the family he has with anakin. he could be content with setting up an empire in the outer rim. he doesn't need galactic wide conquest. he's already conquered the bestest part of the galaxy (anakin)

cody is going to be sick. this is disgusting, and the thought that obi-wan and anakin actually make each other better is too awful to even consider. straight lies and deception.

🧛‍♀️🍬 trick or treat!!! 😈

oooo time traveler ahsoka au!

here is a drabble for time traveling ahsoka au during one of the re-dos (specifically, the one where obi-wan is duke of mandalore and anakin is a Jedi General married to Senator Amidala and they respect their duties at the cost of their almost love):

Even though Ahsoka had not screamed along with Anakin when she'd seen Obi-Wan's body struck by droid-fire---she could not, she had no body, just another thing to add to the long list of things she'd given up for this, for the galaxy---her throat feels raw, as if she has been sobbing for hours the way her master has been, seated slumped over in the chair next to the Duke of Mandalore's cot. Anakin is quiet now, though every so often a fresh tear will roll down his reddened cheek as he sits silently, hand clutching Obi-Wan's own. A part of Ahsoka is screaming at her to reset this scenario. Obviously, these two souls are as entangled together as their fingers currently are. But it would be cruel. Wouldn't it? To end this run now, when Obi-Wan and Anakin are so recently wounded? And they have been so reasonable up until this moment. They have been cordial, respectful---friends, brothers in arms. Obi-Wan has almost died. Surely, Anakin is allowed to mourn. Surely if Ahsoka existed in this scenario, if she were Anakin's padawan and she'd be struck down, he would sit at her bedside and cry over her sleeping form. Right? It takes three tries for the words to pass Anakin's lips, and when he does finally speak, Ahsoka can barely understand him. He has pressed his mouth to the back of Obi-Wan's hand. "Never again," he mumbles against the duke's skin. "You do not belong here, and I would--I would tear my heart out and leave it for safekeeping on Mandalore before I would watch you take on blaster fire again." Ahsoka's mouth opens, spell words meant to reset the circumstances on her tongue. It sounds like a love confession, and she knows that those such things are to be avoided. Her mind begins to race. A new scenario---this time, she will keep them apart forever---this time, they will never meet, and the galaxy will--- "When you wake," Anakin's voice derails her thoughts and holds her tongue. "I will send you back to your wife. And it will be the end. It will--it is time. To end." Ahsoka's mouth closes. The words evaporate. Her chest tightens, and though this should feel as if she's dodged a blaster shot, it feels like she's been hit.

trick or treat 🍬🧡

i gave a little drabble of the couples counseling au for the last trick or treating ask re: couples counseling au so i'm gonna give just a bit of a headcanon this time!

in couples counseling au, the jedi council absolutely knows that they're seeing a couples therapist who specializes in married partners 💙 probably a few of them think that anakin and obi-wan know that as well, but most of them are like. well. they'll figure it out right? some of it may be applicable? they're definitely better than how they were a month ago so, no harm no foul etc etc

[labselkie]

holy shit

marie is cursed to see agatha everywhere😭😭😭😭she remembers all her words during those three years in westview (she was too scared to actually confront agatha while she was in the spell but that’s for another day)😭😭

i don’t usually have ones that i’d see anna singing. time to have this on repeat

[pistachi0art]

Had a dream that I met ur selkie gordon on a public bus at like 2am except he was full seal mode he was just chilling. Josh was there but he looked normal he was just chaperoning his dad

they paid the bus fare like everyone else no need to stare-

[i3utterflyeffect]

Imagine if selkie sc and selkie Alan end up meeting Mango and Gold pre-incident and SC and Gold play together. And then sc turns into a cursor while playing. While Mango and Alan are watching them both play.

I HAVE THOUGHT ABOUT THIS SO MUCH ACTUALLY. Poor Alan has to scramble over and grab SC because NO SC WE DON'T DO THAT IN FRONT OF OTHER PEOPLE and King is pretty sure he very nearly just had a heart attack but for some reason the ACTUAL SELKIE from the myths about STICKS WHO CAN BE CURSORS is apologizing profusely and absolutely begging him not to tell anyone

like, why is an actual myth that could probably crush them like bugs pleading with him like King could even TRY to hurt them. Even if he wanted to he's pretty sure that's not possible. Also what. What is happening

[saph-y]

What would your Tarnished characters be like in the world of Nomades?

Okay that is a VERY good ask and I spent wayyy too much time thinking about it ♥ So, hum. This is going to be long, brace yourselves ! (or move along I guess :p)

(For reminder "Nomades" is our original post-apo univers with @selkys)

My first Tarnished is basically a traveller on a horse who wants to help his friends (in ER that goes bad every time xD) so in our universe I think he'd be perfectly happy as a simple Nomad actually. They explore, install radio relays where they can to connect cities and communities and act as carriers between them - it's an organisation with a strong sense of community and bonds. It would be perfect for him !

I could see him on a bike to replace Torrent xD also my favorite ashes at the beggining of ER was the trio of wolves sooo... maybe he'd handle cerbères ? They're big dogs that guard the convoys and can sense contamination. (contamination from what ? i'm getting there !) Oh and the funny thing is that he was actually designed as a little joke to be a "parallel universe brother" of two existing characters in Nomades, Gaspard and Fergus - both tall, scottish, redheads. Gaspard owns a pub and Fergus is the equivalent of a travelling bard, his (annoying or catchy depending on the people you ask) thunes very well known over the collective nomad radio...

Now they could be reunited ! xD So much ginger guys.

As for Augustine, it is veeery clear to me that he would be a doctor specialized in studying the Akhos. What is Akhos ? Well that is why I talked about contamination above : it's a contagious affliction that make organisms aggresively adapt to their environnement - among other things. But it basically mean mutations - evolution, if you could say. And you know what else evolve ? Pokemon ! And you know on who I based my second tarsnished on ? Pokemon professor Augustine Sycamore who happens to be a specialist in evolution. IT ALL MAKES SENSE !!!

The canon character being famously clumsy + my own ER version always covered in blood - and blood being the main transmission factor of Akhos, that may lead to... problems. How is he not contaminated ?

...Or maybe he is ?