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yersina · 9 months

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concept: buddie supernatural au (the mythos. not the show.)

buck is like the werewolf coded character ever, so ofc that's what he is. he's a werewolf who grew up in a family of werewolves who never made him feel like part of a pack, so he’s trying so desperately to seek connection wherever he can get it. (no, that’s not right—maddie was always pack to him, but then she left with that vampire doug. she always smells a bit like blood now in a way that rubs him wrong, but she’s still staunchly, if tiredly, loyal whenever he nudges her about it, and it hurts to have the reminder that at the end of the day, he’s not her first choice. she’s still pack, she’ll always be pack, but there’s something broken and frayed there now that buck can’t poke at without wanting to break down, so he doesn’t.)

“you go, i go,” connor says, and buck hears pack, so he tags along.

“no man left behind,” the recruiter tells him, and buck hears pack, so he signs himself up for training.

“welcome to the 118,” bobby tells him, and buck still hears pack, but he’s long past trusting his ears.

but things get better. they get worse, first—he’s reminded that humans always find it easier to break bonds than werewolves—but then he’s hired again and saving lives and part of the team. and he has abby, who smells a bit like sickness and a lot like worry the first time he actually meets her, but she has a smile like the moon and always, always picks up the phone when he calls her.

(and then abby goes to europe, and she stops picking up the phone as often. buck doesn’t think of it as leaving him. he doesn’t. he doesn’t.)

the day that eddie shows up and buck catches a whiff of his scent, he’s... confused. the guy absolutely reeks of the sea, in a way that makes no sense if he's telling the truth about being in the army for several years before this. he should smell like sand and gunpowder, but instead buck is reminded of walks along the beach, and with a faint hint of fur and fish, too.

and then he sees the leather jacket that eddie hangs up in his locker.

“damn, this looks like high quality if i’ve ever seen it,” hen says, eyebrows raised, and they practically leap off her face when she catches both of them stiffening when she reaches for it. “oookay. i’ll just. go over there?”

“you brought it with you?” buck hisses at eddie when she’s out of earshot.

“you know what it is?” eddie narrows his eyes. “werewolf? vampire? fairy?” he sniffs the air and then snorts. “werewolf. got it.”

“don’t you have like a—like a box or something to keep it in for safekeeping? a safe?” literally anywhere other than the fire house.

“why don’t you leave my personal belongings to me?” eddie slams his locker door shut. “and the lockbox thing is a stereotype.”

great.

but then they pull a grenade from a man’s leg and they work in a kind of harmony that buck’s never felt before with anyone else on the team, the kind that makes his blood sing and howl in his veins, and eddie says “you can have my back any day” and buck, despite everything, still hears pack.

eddie keeps his seal skin with him because he’s had it stolen once. or—stolen is a strong word, it would never hold up in any human court, but instinct doesn't care about semantics, and he’d ended up married anyway. so he always keeps it with him, he always knows where it is, and if he can’t fit it on under or over whatever uniform he's wearing at the time, it’s going in his locker and right back on his person at the end of his shift.

buck still gives him weird looks for it from time to time, like he can’t quite believe that eddie’s willing to take his coat with him outside of his house at all, but he quickly accepts it as the status quo and at least stops questioning him about it. besides, it’s not as if buck’s completely innocent on the supernatural front either. eddie’s never seen any other werewolf take a work shift on a full moon, and even though buck practically vibrates through his shift, he makes it through the night without so much as a five o’clock shadow.

“skipped your pack run?” he asks when they’re all changing back into their civvies. he instantly regrets the question when buck’s shoulders hitch up around his ears in the very picture of uncomfortable.

“i, uh. i have you guys,” buck says with a painful looking smile. shit. “i’ll see you on wednesday, man.”

“buck—” and he’s gone.

he doesn’t even get the chance to work up the courage to ask what that was all about because shannon. shannon.

there’s a lot of anger and betrayal and misunderstanding tangled up in their relationship, but there’s love there still, too. and christopher. always christopher. but then he lets it slip that she’s back in his life now, and buck—

“you're fucking with me, right?” buck’s voice is so flat that it doesn’t even sound like a question.

eddie sighs. “buck—”

“she’s the one who took your coat, right? that’s why you married her? why you had to marry her?”

“buck, it’s not that simple—”

“and now you let her back in, easy as that? you're not even a little bit mad?”

“of course i’m mad!” eddie yells. buck flinches. “but i left her too. it’s complicated, buck.”

despite all the jokes that the rest of the 118 make about buck and his golden retriever, frat boy energy, he’s always been good at thinking on his feet and memorizing facts and putting the pieces of a mystery together. “she gave you back your coat,” he says slowly, like he’s turning the idea over in his mind while he says it. “that’s why you enlisted. you were running. you were free.�� eddie doesn’t deny it fast enough. “eddie.”

“like i said. it’s complicated.”

buck shakes his head slowly, eyes wide and wary like eddie’s a stranger that he’s never seen before. “doesn't sound complicated to me.”

the bell rings. eddie’s never been so grateful for a three-alarm fire in his life.

see, the thing is, everything buck is saying is true. shannon is the one who ended up with his coat. eddie did enlist after she gave his coat back. but that ignores everything before and after and in-between. shannon didn’t purposefully take his coat or hide it from him either, and she’d given it back when eddie had been forced to explain when chris would be born with his own coat. and despite everything, despite the fact that he knew he loved her, knew he loved chris—he still chose to leave. he thought he’d been sending a message when he’d chosen something with a built-in return date, a quiet ‘i’ll be back eventually, i promise’ but apparently not.

like he said—it’s complicated.

the universe decides to take that as a challenge, as it always does. shannon, the tsunami, the lawsuit—it’s all so much, all the time, and eddie doesn’t really tune back in to the world until he’s trapped forty feet below the ground, surrounded by water and missing his goddamn coat.

“really?” he asks the muddy tomb around him. “now?”

but the water is an old friend, as always, and he’s much less likely to die of hypothermia or shock from the cold than the average human, so he grits his teeth and dives below the surface. when he crawls his way back to his team, it’s buck that greets him first, pulling him into a hug that’d be painfully tight to a human and smelling of wet fur and tears. “i wasn’t sure you—i knew you’d survive the water, but all the mud on top of you—”

“i’m here,” eddie says, because what else can he say? “i made it.”

he gets bundled up in a blanket and carted off to a paramedic to get checked out, but he doesn’t forget the way buck’s shoulders shook against his own.

eddie gets shot and buck falls to fucking pieces because that’s his p—that’s his fucking best friend and now buck knows what his blood feels like on his hands and in his mouth. and he follows eddie all the way to the hospital, all the way to the double doors that he’s never been allowed past, before he remembers—

christopher.

so he stays with eddie’s kid, takes care of him like he’s his own—like eddie would take care of him—and tries not to break down with every lungful of eddieandchris scented air that he takes in their house.

when buck gets that call from ana, he throws himself into action, tugging on a jacket with one hand and juggling his phone with the other so he can make sure that christopher will be safe at home with carla while he rushes to the hospital. to eddie.

ana’s presence hardly registers when he bursts into that hospital room and sees eddie on the bed. his scent is weak and laced with the smell of disinfectant and chemicals but his smile is still warm and alive and oh, buck missed him.

“h-hey,” buck stammers, pulling up short next to the bed. he’s not sure if he should or even can pick up eddie’s hand. can he touch? will eddie break? “i—i made sure that no one touched your stuff at the firehouse, your coat’s still safe, i promise, and—and chris is at home, i’ve been staying with him, making sure that he’s okay—did you know he’s been doing a good job in science class?—and i told carla to wait for a video call maybe, if you’re up to it, so—”

“buck.” and then all of the words spilling from his mouth come to a trembling halt when eddie puts a hand on his arm. “hey. breathe.” buck sucks in a reedy breath. “everything you did was perfect. thank you.”

buck’s exhale shakes. “yeah?”

the smile that eddie gives him could rival the sun in its warmth. “yeah.”

and then later, after eddie’s been discharged—

“you’re not expendable,” eddie says. “if i die, i want you to take care of christopher,” eddie says. buck’s blood is roaring in his ears.

oh.

OH.

all he hears is he’s yours too.

“eddie,” he chokes out. he dives for eddie, burrowing into his surprised embrace and wishing he could wrap his furry body around eddie and smother him with licks and kisses because human comfort just doesn’t compare sometimes. instead, he settles for tucking eddie’s face into the curve of his neck, right where buck’s the most vulnerable.

it’s not the same, he chants to himself, it doesn’t mean the same thing to him as it does to you, but that doesn’t matter over the triumphant roar of PACK in his veins. packs share pups. that’s the whole point of packs—so the children can grow up safely, surrounded by family. and eddie just gave him his.

he would’ve taken care of chris without the confirmation—already has been, really—but it feels entirely different to have the words out in the open, to know that eddie feels the same way. mine, he thinks with vicious satisfaction and something that feels a little too similar to relief, twisting his fingers tighter into eddie’s shirt. mine mine mine mine mine.

“thank you,” he whispers into eddie’s collarbone. “this means. uh. a lot. thank you.”

“hey.” buck can feel eddie’s confusion in the way his body doesn’t quite know whether to lean in or not, but it doesn’t make his voice any less warm. “i’m just making it official, yknow? i want someone who’d fight for him as hard as i would. and i know that’s you. it’s been you.”

“mhm.” buck’s hardly listening anymore. he just curls up and lets himself breathe out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. i’ve found them, he thinks. the missing pieces to my puzzle.

#sina rambles #sina writes #911 #911 show #buddie #supernatural au #was originally worried that it’d be weird for Eddie to be a selkie but yknow what he gets it from his mom’s side #not pictured here: buck chasing seal!eddie up and down the beach on the full moons #strange things that I researched for this include how good seals are at smelling and actual wolf pack dynamics #not that either of those really made a huge impact lmao

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cyndrastic · 8 months

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I WARNED YOU ITS SELKIE AU TIME

Here’s Craig!! Ignore that i drew him kinda young here, this was just a doodle, he’s like early 20s in this au

Anyway plenty of people know about female selkie myths: they go on land, get their skin stolen by a man, and they’re forced to marry and live with him till they either 1: die or 2: find their skin and return to the sea

but there are male selkies with a bit of a different lore >:)

male selkies follow the same rules with skins as women do: they shed their skin to become human, and without it, they can’t go home. But, according to mythology, if a heartbroken or unhappy woman cries 7 tears into the sea, she summons a selkie to fall in love with her and take her back to his underwater kingdom.

the stories range on how much of this is the woman’s free will vs. mind control, and no one seems to agree on how long a male selkie can stay on land, but this is kinda important to this au. Not the main focus, but i wanted to mention it anyway cause i found it cool.

but yeah expect more of this cause i’m brainrotting very hard atm <3

#also the ‘Sámi’ above Craig is the indigenous group that is generally responsible for the myth of selkies #they came to the Irish and Scottish isles in kayaks and animal skins (especially seals)#for some reason that made people think they were animals in disguise as people?? idk man #so most of the selkies in their human forms in this au will have clothes based on traditional Sámi/Inuit clothing #(also if im like appropriating or smth lmk but i’ve done a crap ton of research to make sure im not being ultra offensive or anything)#south park #south park au #south park fanart #cyn art #craig tucker #sp craig #craig sp #creek selkie au #<- new name tbd i’m bad at naming things

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swannposting · 5 months

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Jack (on a side adventure with Lizzie?) comes across some supernatural thing that even he isn't about to fuck around and find out about. Something insane like a wardrobe being guarded on a ship and he opens it and snow comes out.

♡ Hi, anon! Thank you dearly for this prompt. I had a great deal of fun playing with this today. ♡ -> askbox is open for prompts whenever

“We never should have sailed north of the Carolinas, Lizzie.”

Shivering like a wet dog, Jack trudges along a rocky beach at the heels of his Captain. He rubs at his elbows for warmth and lets out an ostentatious sneeze.

“You know I hate the cold,” he grumbles, his voice thick and snotty, “And the clouds. Where’s the sun? Feels like me bollocks are goin’ to freeze off…”

“Keep that up.” Elizabeth taps at the compass cradled delicately in her palm. She pauses, squinting at the twitching needle, and Jack catches up beside her.

“Huh?”

“You are being thoroughly annoying,” she informs him, “It’s stopping the compass from getting distracted by you.”

“Hm. Well, you’re welcome. Can we leave now?”

Her eyes roll irritably in his direction and she just walks onward, leaving him stewing in his bad mood. Jack stumbles on the unfamiliar terrain as he hurries after her.

“Do you truly think there will be something of value here?” he says, following her around the corner of a cliffside, “Seems like this rock is entirely devoid of anything shiny.”

“The compass seems to think so,” she replies, “I suspect it’s got something to do with the chalices. I’ve been wanting them terribly.”

“Compass doesn’t work like that.”

“Sure it does,” she says matter-of-factly, “When one learns to get a handle on one’s own desires, she can be incredibly responsive.”

Jack scoffs, unwilling to believe that Elizabeth could have mastered the compass that has been his uncertain guide all his life. They continue along the base of one of the myriad of cliffsides found in the scattered islands north of the British Isles until they come across a break in the rock formation. It is almost like a staircase of stone. It isn’t man made, but it looks simple enough to scale.

“Allow me, dearie,” Jack offers, stepping forward to take the lead as they climb.

“No, you stay behind me,” orders Captain Swann, hopping gracefully up onto the first ledge.

Of course, he should have known. If he is to take the lead, Elizabeth will be unable to discern if the compass is leading her to the treasure they seek, or in circles, following her dear old Jack. That gives him something to grin wickedly about as they ascend into the cliffside. Distracted by his own celebratory musings, he walks right into Elizabeth. They have reached the top of the cliff, where the ground is patchy with grass, and their anchored ship is visible in the distance. The captain has halted to look out at what they’ve found.

“Huh. A shortcut?”

Elizabeth approaches a large opening in the ground. She kneels at the edge and peers down, then takes a pebble and drops it into the pit. It sinks with a whistle of air, and a splash echoes upward.

“You aren’t actually thinking about going down there, are you?” asks Jack from where he stands at a safer distance.

“I was considering sending you down there.”

“Contrary to popular belief, I do not enjoy exploring massive, unfamiliar holes.”

Still, he cannot help his curiosity, and he steps forward to peer down as well.

“This must be the cave that they spoke of,” Elizabeth says thoughtfully, “You can hear the tide within. Seems like the compass just took us on the most direct route.”

As she contemplates the sea cave below, Jack is suddenly spurred by a spirit of mischief. He does not mean to push Elizabeth into the pit, really. When he jolts her shoulders, he is only trying to give her a lighthearted scare, perhaps providing more of that helpful annoyance she asked for. But she startles, and slips, and the fragile earth beneath them crumbles at the edges. Gasping, she grasps at his coat as she falls, dragging him down into the abyss with her. Their shrieks shatter the silence of the cave, surely alerting anything that dwells there of their presence before they splash into the water below.

The water there is dark emerald, illuminated by what Jack first thinks are some kind of gemstones. Until the gemstones move, and he realizes that the glow comes from the eyes of several creatures swirling past him underwater. Bubbles escape his mouth in a silent shout. He swims upward at top speed.

“Selkies!” he cries as he breaks the surface. Treading water, he spins about, searching for Elizabeth.

“I know!” Elizabeth calls back. Jack spots her a ways away, being guided to a dark shore within the cave by a large seal. “They’re nice!”

“No, they are not!” Jack splutters through his breaststrokes as he makes for shore, “They’re like mermaids, ‘Lizbeth. They’ll trick you!”

But she pays no heed to his warning, and ends up on the ebony sands just before he does. Several of her new selkie friends follow, and as they emerge from the water, their seal skin transforms into pale, naked, human forms. Their eyes, huge like saucers and darker than the Black Pearl, lock with Elizabeth’s inquisitive gaze. He hears her whisper, “Beautiful…” as she extends a hand to one of them.

If Jack was cold before, he is positively turning to ice now. Drenched from head to toe, Jack wobbles to his feet and hurries to Elizabeth, tugging her away from the spell of the selkies. They hiss at him, exposing razor sharp teeth. Elizabeth yelps. Dozens of selkies within the water and on the shore all begin to circle the small strip of land upon which they stand, shivering with cold.

“Do you think they are guarding that?”

Elizabeth points further back in the cave. It seems that a bit of sunlight has broken the cloud cover and now shines through a small opening in the roof of the cave. The sliver of light reveals the remnants of a ship, wrecked and run aground.

“Lovely observation, Lizzie dear,” says Jack, checking that his sword is still strapped to his belt, “Now what do you say we leave them to their duty, shall we?”

Instinctively, they side-step until they are back to back, ready to draw their weapons and defend one another should the selkies use their teeth for more than just an unfriendly hiss.

“No!” Elizabeth protests in a near whisper, “I want to see what’s in there.”

“I expect more things that would love nothing more than to kill intruders such as you and I.”

“We don’t know that! They could be nice.”

“You almost became dinner for these things a moment ago.”

Jack groans, covering his eyes for fear of the sekies’ spell. He hears movement beside him and peeks between his fingers to see that Elizabeth is boldly approaching the creatures. As fond as he is for his darling captain, he considers making a break for it and leaving her to sort out her own questionable decisions.

“Hello!” greets Elizabeth, cheerily as she can muster to conceal the fear that Jack sees in her shaky smile. She gives a wave and holds up both hands in a sign of peaceful surrender. “Lovely to meet you all! And thank you very much for helping me to shore. I am Elizabeth Swann, Pirate Lord of the South China Seas and King of the Brethren Court.”

The selkies exchange looks and start to whisper among themselves in an unfamiliar tongue. Elizabeth casts a nervous glance at Jack, who is becoming very distracted by the terrifying visions of beauty that surround him. Before he can run, two selkies slink out of the water and come up behind him, sliding their long, dainty arms around his shoulders. The tallest of the selkies, and perhaps the most stunning of them all, steps up to Elizabeth, who holds her ground.

“A woman king?” inquires the selkie in a melodic voice. Briefly in awe, Elizabeth blinks a moment before answering.

“Indeed, I am.”

“And this man here– We saw him push you into the water. Would you like us to kill him for you?”

“That was entirely accidental!” Jack calls out, struggling against the creatures and their pointy nails, “An awful misunderstanding really! Now if you’ll just kindly call off your ladies we can—”

Elizabeth shoots him a glare and holds up a hand to silence him, then smiles sweetly at what might be the selkie clan’s leader.

“That is very kind, but no, thank you!”

“Oh. Is he your… consort?”

“Yes. I- I mean– no. Not exactly. He is more like my second in command. And I would like to keep him around. I do apologize for our intrusion. I can assure you we mean no harm.”

“A pirate that means no harm?” says the leader, tilting her head. The other selkies let out a chorus of taunting laughter that makes Jack squirm.

“Yes,” Elizabeth insists, “We mean you no harm.”

“In our experience, pirates are liars who befoul our homes and slaughter our children.”

The selkie leader’s anger is palpable. Elizabeth takes one step back, shuddering as a cold wind blows through the sea cave.

“Those pirates are not our allies,” says Elizabeth, choosing her words carefully, “And I will make certain that any pirate who lives by the Code of my Brethren shall never harm you, or any of your children...”

Jack winces. That sort of grandiose promise does not sound like something that could be easily enforced. But perhaps these are just words. Perhaps Elizabeth has seen sense and, like him, wants to get as far away from these isles as—

“...All I ask is to be permitted onto that ship you guard.”

Bugger. Jack drags a hand down his face and groans again. If he ends up gnawed to death by a gorgeous seal-lady, he swears he will have a nasty message for William when the Dutchman comes to retrieve his soul.

“That ship?” The selkie leader inclines her head toward the back of the cave. Elizabeth nods.

“I believe there might be something there that I am seeking. That is all we have come here for.”

A disarming smile graces the selkie’s face, and her red lips stretch over teeth like sharpened pearls. She advances on Elizabeth, and Jack holds his breath, fearing that he is about to watch the gruesome demise of someone quite dear to him. Instead, the creature takes Elizabeth’s face in both her hands.

“You are a very interesting Pirate King indeed. Have you been blessed by the sea?”

Elizabeth’s lips part and her eyelashes flutter. It might be magic that has her entranced, or she might just be enraptured by this supernatural beauty. Jack can barely hear her say,

“In a way, I am married to the sea.”

Her response pleases the leader, who touches her lips to Elizabeth’s forehead.

“Then you have our blessing as well.”

As the selkie leader draws back, Jack sees that Elizabeth’s face is bright pink, either from the cold, or that blessing. She and the selkie leader share a saccharine smile that Jack does not understand in the slightest.

“Whatever it is that you seek is none of our concern. That ship is all that remains of a crew of men who failed to defeat us. We do not guard it. It is yours to explore.”

And that is that. The leader calls off her fellow selkies, who retreat into the water and into the darkened corners of the cave. Jack scurries after Elizabeth, who heads straight for the shipwreck after graciously thanking the selkies. Together they shimmy up a splintering column of wood and nearly collapse onto the first deck they reach, which seems to be a captain’s quarters.

“Well, that was—”

“What the fuck did you do that for?” hisses Elizabeth, her teeth chattering now, “We were lucky enough that they d-didn’t kill us, but our wet clothes may very well s-send us to our graves!”

With trembling hands, she opens up the compass again. She gives it a shake and lets out an exasperated sigh.

“It’s spinning like mad now. What I w-want m-most in this world is t-to get warm!”

Jack wraps her hands in his and rubs them together. When that fails to generate any real warmth, he gently takes back his compass and she hugs herself.

“Let me try…”

Though it wouldn’t surprise him if the compass’s needle pointed him in the direction of the equator. He told her that he hated going north, and for good reason. Jack rises to his feet and starts to pace the dusty old cabin. The needle settles and he turns to where it points.

“Ah! How about this for a heart’s desire!”

He stands before a large wardrobe, and to his delight, it is unlocked. Some sort of clothing must be inside, he hopes. Anything dry would do them good for now. However, something strange seems to emanate from the knobs. He hears Elizabeth come up behind him as he tugs open the doors. He expects the wardrobe to be full of dust. What tumbles out is a shock, to say the least. Heaps of powdery snow avalanche out onto his boots, and a cloud of the stuff goes fluttering outward as though an icy winter wind has been released from the depths of the wardrobe. He turns to Elizabeth, his dreads and facial hair covered in snowflakes.

“Captain Swann?”

“Yes?”

“May I suggest we get the hell out of here?”

Blinking away snow from her lashes, Elizabeth nods fervently. Jack steps back, kicking ice and snow from his boots, and something catches his eye.

“Oh…? What’s this?”

The cold bites at his bare hand as he stoops to reach into the heap. There, glinting beneath this bizarre indoor snowfall, is one of the two silver Chalices of Cartagena. Precisely what they have been searching for. He hands it to Elizabeth for her to marvel at. Then he snaps his compass shut and kisses it gratefully.

“Incredibly responsive. Seems this blasted thing knew where she was taking us after all!”

#rat's fic #answered asks #so i kind of just ran with an AU that i've been working on for them #i just sort of love the idea of him sailing with her on the Empress #and i've been wanting to write stuff related to the Fountain of Youth so i threw some of that in there to give them motivation #apologies if this is messy #and also sorry if you dont ship them anon i promise this isn't super shippy #really i just had fun with the first ideas that came to mind #thanks again for the ask! :3 #potc fanfic #friends with detriments (sparrabeth)#potc fanfiction #sparrabeth #also i didnt thoroughly research selkies so sorry if i got any of that shit wrong<3

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wolves-in-the-world · 2 years

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[inspired by @eliot-wolfgirl-spencer's selkie eliot post]

Featuring selkie feels, shitty parenting (broad strokes only), and Moreau angst, and stopping before any happy ending, so you'll have to see the linked post for that.

[1.7k, also on Ao3]

—

The thing about Eliot is that his isn't a traditional selkie story. His father had a fling with a woman who hid what she was, who had left her family behind and was going it alone. (Selkies aren't all good, either.) She has Eliot, and she loves and looks after him, and she dies unexpectedly while he's still small.

So his father (who has children with someone else already, though she's no longer in the picture) gets his first son. Eliot's barely more than a toddler then, delivered to his doorstep with nothing but the clothes on his back and a soft grey blanket he seems reluctant to let go of, and when Eliot's father gets a hand on it he just thinks: Oh.

He lets Eliot keep it for the comfort, for now. When the kid’s older and less timid and getting seen more by the community he tucks it away in a cupboard so he won’t go drawing attention—it’s not like there’s anywhere good to change around here, anyway—and Eliot sort of… forgets. Not entirely. Not the rough cadence of his mother’s songs, not that there’s a piece of him he has to keep hidden. But he forgets and he’s mostly glad that he gets to. He doesn’t want to be singled out.

And maybe once or twice when the restlessness rises up under his skin, when the town’s so small it’s penning him in and he thinks he might burst from it, he takes the pelt from out of the cupboard and runs out to the lake in the dead of the night. It’s not much of a lake, not remotely pretty, but it’s something that isn’t just forcing himself still until he splits at the seams.

The first time, he doesn’t know what he’s doing. It’s been so long since his mother helped him with this, and he can’t remember where she started. So he’s sweating and he’s getting frustrated and the awkwardness of it is uncomfortably reminiscent of puberty, really, and he has to keep his swearing quiet because he doesn’t want to risk being found, doesn’t know what his father would do.

But once he gets it to a certain point it’s like it… belongs, like it knows what to do when he doesn’t. He should be afraid but he marvels at the change. The water isn’t clean—doesn’t hold him like it should, he knows that in his bones, even if he doesn’t remember what it was like to swim in the sea—but it feels like a taste of freedom.

The sun rising makes him panic, every time. The sealskin's easier to peel off than it is to put on, and he pats it dry once he’s dried and dressed himself, folds it and stows it in his satchel and tries not to feel like it��s a dirty secret.

It is a dirty secret. His father never put it into words, never had to, but Eliot was never meant to use it, never meant to risk anyone else finding out.

He’s managing that much, at least. He kisses Aimee for the first time, learns how to make her smile, gives her a promise ring and means every word of the promises they make each other. It’s easy to confine his restlessness to those strange, guilty nights he slips out alone and banishes from his mind the next day. It’s easy to tell himself he can do this.

It’s easy, until it isn’t.

He meant to leave his sealskin at home. He meant to keep thinking of it as home, even after he leaves, except that his father gets angry. It’s far from the first time they’ve butted heads but it is by far the worst, and Eliot can’t listen well enough to try to fix things over the insistent call of I need to get out I need to I need to, and he slams the door of his room in his father’s face to pack the things he would miss.

He takes the sealskin with him.

Aimee’s family like him enough to put him up until he leaves. He helps with the horses, washes the dishes under the approving eye of Mrs Martin, keeps a little distance from Aimee—she doesn’t want him to leave, either.

But he has to catch her before he goes. She agrees to take the battered old suitcase and keep it somewhere safe—shows him where, even—and she doesn’t press him on what’s inside. He doesn’t think she’ll look inside. They kiss then, and more, and the day after the next he’s gone.

Working for the military doesn’t sate the itch inside him, but he can tell himself it does, for a while. He can tell himself he’s doing good. Then he can tell himself it’s necessary. Then it’s just the only thing he knows how to do. And he misses Aimee, but she’s less happy with him each time he contacts her—she never mentions the sealskin, at least, there’s that—and it’s looking like the life he wanted to have with her is something he left behind without ever really meaning to.

And then she gets married. It’s her dad—Willie—who contacts him, and he’s kind about it, which makes it worse. Eliot swallows his feelings and takes a moment to respond and Willie doesn’t seem bothered by it—awkward, maybe, but that’s to be expected. Eliot gets out the niceties, the congratulations, to equally awkward responses, then stumbles into I left a suitcase with her.

Willie makes the arrangements, and next time Eliot’s on leave he stops by for long enough to collect it and to thank him, and leaves before things can get any worse.

He moves the sealskin around a bit before finding the hiding place he’s happiest with, near the bottom of a stack of blankets at his most secure safehouse. He’s on his first PMC by then. It’s been years since he shifted—not since he became an adult, not since that grimy old lake he would sneak out to at night like visiting a secret boyfriend—and the pelt has become dry, still supple, but less like touching a living thing.

Eliot doesn’t like touching it.

It’s a burden, is the thing. A weakness. An achilles’ heel he can’t afford. He’d have destroyed it, except his research—and there’s precious little research available without talking to actual selkies, but the idea of that made his skin crawl when he considered it—suggested that wouldn’t be safe to do. A part of him, then, just not one he ever has to acknowledge.

He finds Toby. He finds a reprieve from his numbness, a way to put something good into the world, a way to talk to the parts of himself that he thought were closed off forever. He finds his hands covered with more blood than he could ever hope to wash clean.

He flees.

Working for Moreau might be one of the ugliest things he’s ever done, but at least it’s simple. He doesn’t work well without someone else calling the shots, he doesn’t want to begin to examine the breadth and weight of his work so far; he wants to do what he’s good at and let this wild thing out of his chest just long enough, just far enough, to let him rest easy in his skin.

Easier, at least.

He moves his pelt to San Lorenzo: the safest place he knows, the place he arranges the security for. Maybe he knew the risk he was taking, maybe he’s ignoring that part of himself so much that he’s forgotten it, but when he comes back to his room one day and finds Moreau standing over the desk running his fingertips over the fur, Eliot feels a stutter of something like fear in his chest.

Damien’s kind about it. He doesn’t take it from him.

The thing is, Eliot wants it gone. He doesn’t want to have to deal with it. And sometimes when you’re facing the awful thing, the fear of being controlled, the terrible truth that you’re a monster, all you can do is lean into it. Yanking out stitches to let it heal, even if it heals up ugly.

The thing is: just as much as when he was a child, when his father pulled the sealskin from his fingers and told him it had to stay hidden, Eliot’s ashamed of it.

Damien accepts when Eliot offers it to him, and it feels like a blessing. Damien tells him: don’t worry. He tells him: I’ll take good care of it.

Eliot doesn’t miss it when it’s gone.

(He doesn’t see the ways he was led to that decision. He doesn’t see the satisfaction in Damien’s eyes.)

It’s the lightest he’s felt for years, being known, being seen for all he is and accepted for it, and he wonders why he didn’t do this sooner. Damien didn’t flinch from the fur beneath his fingers or the patchy explanations that were all Eliot could give. Damien doesn’t flinch from the things Eliot can do—he finds a purpose for them. Eliot scrubs blood and tissue from under his fingernails and the rough thing inside his ribcage is almost at rest.

So he falters, sometimes. So he tries to be something he’s not, lets people go or kills them too quickly, questions Moreau’s orders. He always returns to here. He always remembers what he’s for.

He doesn’t think about Toby. He doesn’t think about Aimee, who wanted him to stay, who knew him before all this but didn’t know what he was trusting her with. He doesn’t think about his mother who braided his hair when he was small and kept him from sinking under the waves when she was teaching him how to swim.

(He doesn’t let himself think of them often.)

Then one day he goes even further. He didn’t think he could. He didn’t think he would get this moment of terrible clarity again, looking at what he’s done, at what he is, with everything inside him rebelling. Last time he detached from himself, denied feeling anything in an attempt to escape this, and he can feel that starting again. He can feel himself teetering.

Last time, it didn’t work. He realises, in the parts of himself he’s been ignoring for so long, that he doesn’t want to end up here again. He can’t afford to. He can’t survive it.

With his sealskin in Moreau’s hands, running could mean death. But he doesn’t have a choice. If he goes back, Moreau will talk him into staying.

He runs.

Moreau lets him go.

And Eliot leaves a part of himself behind.

#thank u eliot-wolfgirl-spencer for your blessing this was a very happy accident #kinda sorta accidentally gave eliot ocean longing but at least boston and portland apparently have beaches #I tried to research once but it's weird trying to research beaches that you can't visit #picture boston era eliot visiting the beach with the others and being really twitchy and wistful and weird #and portland era eliot just needing the encouragement and privacy to go be a happy seal for a bit and be slightly bad at something for once #(he would get teased a LOT for being bad at being a seal but that just means he needs practice :) oh no what a shame <3)#(at some point they take on a job with selkie clients and eliot has to confront A Whole Lot and it is awful but it is also healing)#(gasp maybe he bonds with a small selkie child)#I HAVE. a lot of feelings about the hair braids headcanon it's a problem #(maybe he BRAIDS the small selkie child's HAIR-)#it's penandinkprincess' recent selkie jaskier fics that reminded me of this possibility if that's up anyone's alley #leverage #eliot spencer #leverage angst #selkie eliot au #leverage fics

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randomaphunicorn · 5 months

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One of the joys of writing a fanfic is doing an egregious amount of research on a specific subject just to use the information to only write a paragraph or two

#fable rambles #the joys of writing fanfic #one of my favorite parts of writing is research #I love knowing things #I want all of the knowledge #damn I'm really down in the tags serving beholding realness #I'm writing a selkie au and i get they're magic and all so technically i could do what ever and justify it with magic #but like real seals are so intresting and they're really hecking cool #damn tags really are just for rambling in

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araedi · 10 months

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// Phew, took waaay longer than I hoped to get to the stage I wanted w the comm batch but it's done so gonna grab some dinner, update my carrd for here and the multi, and get to some drafts!

Also gonna start throwing all these memes y'all lovelies have been tagging me into the mix and prod the inbox. If you want anything answered today now's the time to send it in :U

#mostly updating my activity levels and tidying up any rules #and adding the concepts for modern/mcu verses for my beloveds Jade and Nate #so if you wanna annoy a selkie or be chased by a grim hmu #tho I need to do a lil research if Nate can/should actually be a ghost rider or not #ooc tag

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walkingbomb · 2 years

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if you were a creature from folklore, legend or myth, what would you choose to be?

#research #feel free to reply or reblog and put your answers in tags #I'd love to know what you would choose and possibly. even why #this is basically for the Changeling the Dreaming game I'm putting together #and for the love of everything if any of you nerds have played/read into/even heard of changeling hmu #I'd wanna be a selkie i think #i love the sea #or any kind of shapeshifter actually #world of darkness #wod #ctd #pls help ya girl out and give me some ideas

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starswimmingart · 2 years

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okay thinking about maybe...?? writing something?? making my first fic?? aAAA???

.. might start making doodles about my ideas

#it'll be sun and moon of COURSE #selkie y/n #research exploration bot Sun and Moon #lots of mischief and goodies to be had #hhhh #sundrop #moondrop x reader

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michaelmilligan · 2 years

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you and @nalivaa (among others) have a way of making me get really distracted with midam thoughts and start rambling about it, and I find it hilarious every time it happens - especially because it tends to be entirely accidental on both sides

Hehe. Causing Midam brainworms is my second favourite hobby (right after having Midam brainworms). 😌

Ramble on, bestie, I want to hear all the Midam thoughts!

#Thanks for the ask #And glad to be of service ahshdkdl #Also yeah Nalis art is so good. 🥰 The Mermichael art my beloved..m #Everything else too #But...he....#Wait didn't you also suggest Selkie Midam Kaira?#Still have to do more research on that to make it into sth

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selkies-world · 1 year

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OK, history buffs of tumblr, it's time to flex!

I'm writing an article on how we (as humans) have always projected our fears onto others- other groups, other people, etc,.

I need sources for / examples of:

Historic events where Group A existed within their own culture or subculture with little to no issues with the outside world or society, until Group B showed up & persecuted Group A - but to justify it, Group B convinced themselves & Group C that Group A were doing specific terrible things to Group B and Group C, so really Group B We're being the heroes by obliviating Group A. Meanwhile, Group A never did those things, and it was actually Group B doing those exact things to Group A, while claiming they were simultaneously the heroes and the victims.

Times Group 1 were aware that certain crimes were being committed within their society, but they couldn't fathom one of their own doing it, and wouldn't acknowledge that most people in Group 2 were capable of it, so Group 1 invented an urban legend creature to blame the crimes on, but based it entirely on their nightmare version of Group 2.

#I'll give you 3 guesses where this article is going 🤔🤔🤔#selkie #selkie talks #selkie chats #research #history #historic events #hostorical events #ancient history #humam history #modern history #human nature

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ranticore · 3 months

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eh i might as well just post em here. Sirenian humans for ya. ftr i never got round to doing this for selkies or the other guys

the individual drawings for these are.. not the best and the text formatting and typos are woeful but i have a lot of fondness for them (especially the hopper harpies, they're my favourites) and the reason i made this blog was originally to talk more about them in a more relaxed space

there's also... this attempt at describing the naming conventions of the most populated settlement

one thing i really wanted to avoid with these guys was the notion of culture being tied to what type of person you are (physically i mean). it's very rare that a settlement is limited to only one type of human. culture is instead related to settlements and geographical regions (can u tell I hate the common trope of Monolithic Fantasy Race Culture). because the humans who originally settled on siren spoke english, all of the languages spoken by modern sirenians are derived from english (and this is how scholars can back-translate ancient records about ishmael et al). some people with very specific adaptations (like hoppers) might be concentrated in the area that best fits their morphology but there are no exclusive groups based on body type.

the modern sirenians do not believe they are (or were, originally) aliens on siren, they do not know about earth, they know nothing at all aside from the fact that there were once Precursors who've left some technology behind.

the main story is about our guy Qedivar travelling from the spire to the old Precursor ruins to do some research, and on the way he hires Huarva as a tugboat and Terwy as an astronavigator. They have each lied to the other about some fundamental aspect of themselves of course so there's drama but eventually Qedivar gets home and publishes a preliminary report on what he found there (which is the record of Ishmael's life). Conservative factions immediately decry it as heresy and call for Qedivar to be killed, so he has to go into hiding and publish under a pseudonym.

#not to be confused with my other harpies from my other setting. or my OTHER harpies from my other setting #setting: siren

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boytoyhalo · 5 months

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so while researching for my selkie au I've come across an interesting coincidence

america's last lighthouse keeper retired TODAY! not today x amount of years ago, literally today!! her name is sally snowman and she manned the boston light (the first lighthouse built in colonial america) for 20 years!! as all lighthouse are automated now, no one will be replacing her as there's no longer any need for them to be manned

thank you for your service sally snowman o7

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llamagoddessofficial · 7 months

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Are you being followed by local siren that, rather than eat you, visits you frequently to chat? Do they leave gifts, sing to you, get upset that you see visitors, or seem a little too affectionate? Do you suspect that they're being more than just friendly with you? You aren't crazy, sirens falling in love with humans is much less rare than it sounds. It's important to know the steps before it's too late, as sometimes, overzealous siren lovers will disappear with a human mate forever. Here's your helpful guide to navigating that sticky situation.

Remember that all siren species have a key courtship method that, generally, will be their main method of flirtation. Be sure to research your siren to catch any early signs of affection, and equally, to be certain you aren't accidentally encouraging their feelings by engaging in this behaviour with them. Some examples of siren courtship methods include; - Singing (cetacean sirens, eg dolphins and whales) - Gift exchange (cave dwelling sirens, eg moray and grouper) - Food sharing (deep/cold sea sirens, eg leopard seal and oarfish) - Asking you to 'take care of their skin for a little while' (specific to pinnipeds/selkies) - Roughhousing, wrestling or 'play fighting' (open ocean predators, eg sharks, marlin, tuna)

A singular display of these behaviours doesn't necessarily constitute flirtation. Though repetitive displays could imply romantic feelings, sirens are intelligent and sentient, and they might just enjoy your friendship!

Should your siren ever start to discuss life in the ocean, make sure to firmly state your preference for life on land. No matter what they say, do not express any interest in living in the sea. They may misconstrue this as a sign that you'd prefer being with them.

Discuss your loved ones on land. Many sirens also have strong familial ties, and understanding you have your own family bonds will make them unlikely to suddenly kidnap you.

Once you're certain they're flirting, be sure to confront them directly and let them down easy. Sirens place a great deal of importance on mutual affection and respect between couples, and oftentimes a gentle rejection is all that's needed to avoid misunderstanding.

Disregard the above if your suitor is a cecaelia. Cecaelia are highly territorial and possessive over their chosen mate, and do not change their minds. Rejecting a cecaelia may cause them to act irrationally to 'secure' you. See the cecaelia handbook for further information.

Be extremely wary of Wanderer sirens. 'Wanderers' are social sirens who have somehow lost their pod, whether through death, accidental separation, or outcasting. If your siren is only ever seen alone, they may be a wanderer. Social sirens will quickly mentally deteriorate without a unit- they may be using you to fill an emotional void, and they can quickly become highly jealous and aggressive. It is essential to emphasise, when rejecting them, that you still consider them a friend. These sirens require a lot more care and direct intervention to avoid disaster; consider calling the siren helpline on xxxx-xxx-xxx.

The above warning does not apply to solitary sirens, such as sharks. They travel great distances alone and possess the mental fortitude for isolation and rejection. Don't let the stereotypes fool you; generally, sharks are some of the safest sirens to interact with.

#llamagines #siren sanses #siren au

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