I can handle it solo.

The name's Belle: charming, charismatic beauty, and photographer extraordinaire. You know, we Selkies get a bad rap, but you don't have to worry about me — picking pockets isn't my style. Can't promise I won't steal your heart, though! So, think you can keep up with a Selkie? Not-So-Secret Admirer

[ephemeraltea]

Ok but which part of ur otp unironically calls themselves “a fucking delight” and which one immediately snorts

[selkiesgosolo-blog]

miscellanyofmusings:

I ɢᴀᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀ ғʟᴏᴡᴇʀ ʙᴇᴄᴀᴜsᴇ ғᴏxᴇs ᴛʀᴀᴠᴇʟ ʟɪɢʜᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ᴀ ᴘᴇɴɴʏ ғᴏʀ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜᴛs ᴡᴀs ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴇɴᴏᴜɢʜ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʜᴇᴀᴅ ɢᴇᴛs ғɪʟʟᴇᴅ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴀᴛ sᴛᴜғғ

[diiscotechjuliet]

Visit Original Link

Fixin’ | Walk the Moon

don’t even tell me where we are going just walk, just walk by my side

[selkiesgosolo-blog]

Access Granted

[selkiesgosolo-blog]

killermanners:

Scalded, attending digits twitch in the mildest recognition of the sensation. While her flaring core reminds him that overindulgence has blessed him with this early heat wave, it’s actually the hot topic that burns him. His chest broadens more with an inhale, her undulating weight upon it gone from a somber heaviness to a tingling pressure. It dared to bubble through his throat, and nearly clawed out past his lips in the form of a laugh before being choked back. The corner of his lip twitched from the stress of suppression. He gave no time for doubt (for her, as well as for himself). “–yes?” Self aware as he is, he considers in a pause that the natural one-note of his hubris may fall flat. Quite conscious of this inexpressive quality that may have hindered her ability to read him in their past, he hopes to mend any misunderstanding with a stern clarification. “I do.” The falling ridges between his eyebrows whisper of course I do. She dances in sunlight. 

More than that, her fierce independence embedded a will to be her company, even reluctantly at times, since he can remember. Not her ball and chain, neither her servant, nor to be the stronger will to break hers. He slinks in moonbeams. They could cross each other’s lines. 

“…Is that the problem?”

“Yeah.”

The word has barely left her lips before they’re forced against his own, leant into with all the passion inhibitions 'til this instant have so very long suppressed. She shifts, full weight held against him as greedy hands grasp to pull them closer, thief’s fingers dragging along his jawline, deepening the kiss. The Belle of last night likely wouldn’t have asked, far safer to keep him guessing forever-- but four years of courtship, however reluctant, culminate in this moment, and Belle of the morning after allows herself vulnerability enough to experience it, this crossing of his line.

[selkiesgosolo-blog]

Access Granted

[selkiesgosolo-blog]

killermanners:

It’s not quite the ideal series of words he’d like to hear. He’s hardly selfish about it, cautious disappointment aside. His throat shielding his heart, as it were, from the too-brief pin by her stare has reclaimed some sense and fell back a little past its proverbial chamber and into the clutches of his stomach. A better alternative to the high of being so invoked. 

“Are you feeling ill?” He’d have something up his disposed sleeve if that was the case, and the hole where his confidence was is made full by trickled concern. On one hand, he tussels aside her bangs; the other feels her forehead with the tender press of his calloused knuckles. 

She may very well feel it, from the way her skin begins to burn, embers ignited by his consideration glowing brightly in her cheeks. Simple agreement is briefly considered-- plenty alcohol remains in her system on which to blame it-- but for once her mouth moves faster, question of her own tumbling out of it in answer.

“Do you like me?”

[selkiesgosolo-blog]

Access Granted

[selkiesgosolo-blog]

killermanners:

Momentarily disrupting her resting spot of choice, his airy chuckle is the only rebuttal Belle will get. Because, her candor comes in the form of reluctant courtship; in dubious but compiled crossed arms and a cocked hip; in insouciant stories that her passion overtakes, changing attitude into too eager rambling about a misunderstood, proud culture. The Selkie’s inherited sticky fingers have stolen something precious from Rude, and that is his time. Too often she invades his thoughts and eats up the seconds of his day. Thinking of which, he finally glues the proverbial puzzle of how he had gotten so unexpectedly wasted the night prior. The way that she wears a clever smile is so charming that, bypassing the very foundation of Shinra discipline, somehow how his glass never needed to be replenished went overlooked. Her company was one he trusted, restraint was lacking from the start. He accepts it with a sigh – a content one – and by holding her captive shoulder with more finality.

It’s then he recognizes his own bare hands, beyond the flesh and scars and sin. Now his fingerprints are on her. Their significance isn’t blase like entitlement or something along those lines– for what it’s worth Rude is without those unique, identifying grooves; redacted, alongside his namesake many years ago. Rather, it’s the connotation of yielding earnest rarely given.

Dominant fingers push aside her auburn veil, giving unto him a spot to murmur. “I don’t normally drink that much.”

“Lucky me,” she teases, his touch gone too soon. Lips curl into a self-satisfied smirk even so, savoring these precious moments before either are awake enough to come to their senses and never speak of this, or to each other again.  The dawning reality of this possibility weighs heavily in her chest, soon flush with his as the Selkie suddenly rights herself, dark eyes catching his own. It occurs to her then (too late) that she’s never actually seen them, not at any time she can recall, and ordinarily bold and feckless Belle has to consciously force herself to retain contact. All resolve to go gracefully about the surely impending parting deflates dramatically as she, collapsing atop him in audible exasperation at her tawny-eyed defeat.

“This is bad.”

[the-backwater-experts]

by すっぱちゃっぷす

[claudiablacks]

[haku23]

which one of your otp is the *raises voice just enough to be heard across the aisle* “do you want chips?” 

and which one is the *at full volume* “I’M ALWAYS A SLUT FOR DORITOS”

[dbtl]

[snarkytoughguy-blog]

It was only through the corner of his eyes he noticed the familiar auburn of her hair, a matching pair of eyes, and sun-kissed skin. He turned to look, unsure at that distance what her facial expression meant. So he offered the only thing he knew best: a nonchalant nod (a signature greeting he, only in his mind, called a nod-chalant) accompanied with an awkward raise of his hand, like some crystal antenna broadcasting a weak “oh, hi Belle.” 

[selkiesgosolo-blog]

She fought the smile her lips attempted to twist into, forcing them down into an obedient frown. ‘Crystal Bearer to the core’ though he may be, there had never been any getting around the fact he was Clavat (a word too often interchanged with cowardly by her kind-- but hey, if the proverbial shoe fit). It endeared him to her as much now, as ever. All the same, he had a lot of nerve showing up here if he had no plans to mend some singed bridges, and so she took the initiative, balled fists propped on her hips as she called out across the sand.

"Are you gonna come say hi to me, or what?”

[shakesankle]

REBLOG if you are BISEXUAL, if you SUPPORT BISEXUALS, or if you GET REALLY EXCITED ABOUT WILL SHAKESPEARE

[selkiesgosolo-blog]

[ffcrystalchronicles]

[snarkytoughguy-blog]

He was almost sure he had only been gone a few weeks. Too short of a departure to warn anyone, that was for sure. At the most he had been gone a couple months. But buildings weren’t often constructed in a just a few months. Trees were fuller than he remembered them last. The land itself felt foreign. But it was only a few months.

Wasn’t it?

Maybe “few” was too subjective, too lenient of a word. “Few” meant two or three months, but in this instance, “few” meant a good year. Even that was dubious.

A traveler on his own neglected time, Layle had one thing to say about his unexpected, prolonged disappearance: “Whoops.”

At the very least he managed to remember how to take the train from the Capitol to Costa Faguita, where he then realized how much he craved the sun and the sand. 

[selkiesgosolo-blog]

Months before things might have gone much differently-- Belle having been far more likely at the time to greet him with a fist for leaving her without a word-- but as they were, time was, for once, on the Crystal Bearer’s side. Heartbreak and bruised pride both had dulled in his absence, to the point that, at sight of him strolling down the beach as if he owned it (like always), she could at least crack a smirk.

“... hmph.” Wry as it was.

[fade-cloak]

Important otp question: who would stand on a chair during an argument

[selkiesgosolo-blog]

/moogle eyebrows at u

/rolls eyes with an endeared noise of disgust