#flotsam jetsam

[trombonechurchill]

KRIS! question of vital importance re: flotsam jetsam. how many bed(room)s does the lighthouse have 👀👀

~ @wee-fuckin-woo :] 💖

Dylan! A very important question you are correct 🙂‍↕️ So Buck's lighthouse is actually set in a real place, Patos Island, a little island in the north part of the San Juan islands between Washington and Canada! It looks this:

Now, in reality Patos is no longer manned (and when it was, the lighthouse keepers home was a separate structure), but shhh, I think that lil house is the perfect place to shove Buck and his lil, solitary bed into don't you?

So yes. there is only one bed. And they do share. In fact, I have a lil snippet of that below, how convenient.....

Buck does his best to keep an appropriate distance but Tommy's body is a furnace behind him, the warm solid bulk of him pulling with its own comfortable gravity as Buck shifts to try and get comfortable. It's not a large bed, Patos lighthouse was always built more to be functional than comfortable, but Buck had considered it pretty cozy up until he tried to fit two large men without their knees brushing in their sleep. Buck squirms again and Tommy grunts. "Sorry," Buck whispers into the dark. "S'fine," Tommy mutters, shifting behind Buck some more. There's a pause where Buck tries his best to stay as still possible, arms pinned to his side, legs locked so tight he's worried he's going to start trembling with the effort to keep still- "Can you come over here?" Tommy mutters. "What?" Buck nearly rolls right off the edge of the mattress as he twists to check over his shoulder, getting a glimpse of one bleary eye peering at him from where Tommy's mushed his face into the pillow. "Can you come closer? S'cold." "Oh," Buck's heart pounds so loudly in his chest he's sure for a moment Tommy must be able to hear it over the quiet whirl of the lighthouse, over the constant hiss and crash of the waves outside. "Yeah. Yeah sure."

[lostgirlaesthetics]

Ursula Edit for the Disney Villains Edit Series

[rich-henty-blog]

barracuda / cuba

[trombonechurchill]

WIP Wednesday

I'm well overdue (including a Sal Saturday/Sunday ough) but tagged by the lovely @nine-one-wanton, @chimneyz, @ambernotember, @fuselsstuff, @cliophilyra, @leashybebes, @judymarch15, and @o0anapher0o thank you thank you <3

tagging you all back along with @setmeatopthepyre, @beanarie, @emphasisonthehomo, @owlgirl495, and @fyrehose too~

Anyway, listened to Skog's lovely playlist and got some more selkie!Tommy AU done for Flotsam Jetsam 🦭

"Hey, you still alive in there?" Buck leans against the bathroom door as he knocks, hearing an answering slosh that at least lets him know Tommy hasn't managed to drown himself in the lighthouse's old claw foot tub. "Tommy?" Buck gives Tommy another beat before edging the door open with his shoulder. He's not sure what he was expecting, but Tommy splayed out in the tub, head tilted back as he balances Buck's razor along his top lip wasn't top of his list. Tommy tilts his head against the rim of the old tub, letting the razor fall with a clatter as he gives Buck a baleful look. Buck valiantly decides not to comment. Tucking his tongue between his teeth, Buck steps forward, pausing to survey Tommy's lack of progress with his hands on his hips and a quirked eyebrow. It's a lot, to see miles of wet skin on display. Buck swallows as his eyes trace the rise and fall of his chest, the angry pink and red of the wound still healing along his ribs. Tommy idly swirls the tips of his fingers in the water near his stomach and Buck feels the back of his neck heat as he watches a droplet of water catch in the trail of dark hair there. Let's his eyes linger as the travel up to the thick hair on his chest, the speckle of grey hair there catching the light as Tommy breathes. Buck quickly relocates his eye line up to Tommy's face. There's still dirt behind his ears, a trail of suds dripping sullenly from Tommy's damp hair as he quirks an eyebrow at Buck, waiting for comment. "I uh. I thought you might have drowned in here or something," Buck says, laugh a little wheezy as he shifts on his toes, wincing as his shoes squeak on the tiles. "I don't think that's a concern…" Tommy says with a decidedly wet snort, flicking his fingers in the bathwater and shifting pointedly. He barely fits in the old tub, a struggle Buck can sympathize with, and Buck forcibly shifts his eyes away as Tommy shifts in the tub, only looking back once Tommy has rearranged himself with his arms folded along the edge. There's a knowing smile on his face when their eyes meet again. "Look, you say that, but only one of us nearly drowned the other week so-" Buck shrugs, relieved when Tommy huffs a laugh, dropping his head to the cradle of his arms in defeat. "Did you um," Buck licks his lips, hesitates long enough for Tommy to peek out at him, just a sliver of deep blue eyes, before he continues. "Did you need some help?"

[trombonechurchill]

just so's you knows: this dynamic makes me feel things 🦭🦭🥺🫶

You and me both, Leo 🙂‍↕️. I'm glad people are still feeling seal thoughts even though it's been sleeping for a bit while I worked on other things. We're a little stuck, but here's a little extra (sorry not really seal-y) bit for you 🦭🫶

Buck liked to think he and the lighthouse couch had a good relationship. It was a small thing, a loveseat arguably only fit for two people as long as they were either very small or very affectionate, which, when Buck was here alone, was totally fine. Perfect even. Which is why it was such a betrayal that said couch was choosing to be so uncomfortable now. There was no way Buck could sleep on the couch the traditional way. Even folded up, Buck's bent knees hung off the side and his heels dug uncomfortably into the armrest, so he'd simply laid them and some extra blankets out on the floor and settled down for the night. He'd slept in worst places before. On floors, in cars, and during one notable night, propped up in a corner in a hotel room, he'd be fine. Upstairs, Buck could hear the bed creak as Tommy rolled over. He wasn't fine.

[trombonechurchill]

On the third day of the storm, there’s a body in the surf.

A moodboard for my WIP selkie!Tommy fic, Flotsam Jetsam just in time for another @btmonsterfuckermonday 🦭

[trombonechurchill]

Wet Beast Weekend

tagged by the lovely @apollabarnes, @ambernotember, @beefcakekinard, @owlgirl495, @schweetheart and possibly some more but it got lost in the great tag glitch this week oop. Tagging you all back along with @setmeatopthepyre, @emphasisonthehomo, @wee-fuckin-woo, @chimneyz, @beanarie, @leashybebes, @dark-alice-lilith, @frogsinflannel, @cliophilyra, @aringofsalt, @corporatebanana, and anyone else working on something spooky this season 👁️👁️

Anyway, it's been a minute! Here's some more flotsam jetsam, my selkie!Tommy AU that I'm now hoping to get finished for @btmonsterfuckermonday

Buck sketched a toe through the pebbles on the shore, the scuffle and clack of them muted under the rush of the surf. Next to him, Tommy heaved another deep sigh, though he already seemed more energized just being out here. Being near the water. The color on his cheeks seemed more a healthy glow, pink from the wind rather than from the grip of fever and Buck felt himself relax more against the pokey grass of the bank they'd tucked themselves against as a wind break. It was good to see him looking stronger already. "So, why here? Why a lighthouse?" Tommy turned, catching Buck's eye and smiling, and Buck scrambled to look anywhere else, caught out staring. "Oh uh, well, I figured- Why not?" "I'm sure a lot of people can think of why not." Tommy shrugged the blanket tucked around his shoulders and, as if to make his point, the wind chose that moment to pick up, bitter cold and hissing in a way that has the water nearby stirred up into a frothing spray as it shatters on the rocks as the edge of the island. "Yeah, yeah I guess, but I don't know." Buck shrugged back to match Tommy, his jacket rustling noisily in his ears. "I've been a lot of places already. Met a lot of people, and I guess I'm still looking for something more permanent. Coming out here seemed like a nice change of pace. Quiet." Tommy hummed thoughtfully and Buck couldn't help but glance back over. Couldn't help but admire the way the pre-dusk light caught the slope of his nose. The flash of ocean blue in his eyes. "I was actually in LA before this," Buck continued, fingers plucking at the long grass brushing against his fingers. "I was going to become a SEAL but- It just wasn't me. I couldn't be that guy." The look Tommy gave him was quizzical, to say the least.

[trombonechurchill]

Snippet Smonday

Tagged by @setmeatopthepyre and @leashybebes and I think probably some other people of the past week thank you 🙏 I’ve been trying to fill some prompts in my inbox and failing so here’s some random selkie AU/lighthouse keeper!Buck I wrote in my notes app instead of sleeping ✌️

—————————————-

On the third day of the storm, there’s a body in the surf.

Buck spends a grim moment in the doorway hoping to see that it’s just a log, driftwood on the rocks, but the beam of his flashlight lights undeniably on dark hair and pale skin and Buck’s already moving down to the rocks before his brain has fully registered it.

“H-hey! Hey are you okay?” Buck calls over the hiss and crash of the spray. “Fuck that’s cold.” He’s already soaked from the rain but the bite of the water as he wades in still knocks the breath out of him.

The guy, and it is a guy, Buck can see him now, doesn’t respond, eyes closed and face slack as he bobs awkwardly in the water. “Please don’t be dead please don’t be dead,” Buck mutters as he reaches him, grimacing at the chill of the man’s body as he hooks his arm around him and heaves them both bodily back to shore.

It’s tough going, the rocks are slick with salt and rain and Buck reckons the guy must weigh 200 pounds alone without the water weighing them down. And it does, despite the man’s limited clothing Buck can feel the pull of it, a grasping hand trying to tug them both back under the surf, pulling him from the water is like dragging two magnets apart.

It’s a close thing, but he somehow manages to haul them both onto shore, sending a quiet apology that he’s sure goes unheard as the guy hits the rocks a little roughly.

He’s breathing, thank god, but his skin is freezing and Buck flinches as he pulls back the sodden blanket thing to find blood weeping from a jagged wound in his side.

“Did someone try to put a hit on you, jeez,” Buck says, pawing uselessly at where his hair has plastered itself to his forehead in the downpour and ensuing water rescue, water dripping and stinging into his eyes. “M-maybe like a mob hit? A Canadian mob hit? Does Canada have mobs?” The man stays oppressively silent and Buck kicks himself back into action. “Right, right, sorry about this,” he murmurs, fingers numb, gripping the man’s arm and hauling him over his shoulder in a fireman’s carrying. He needs to get them both out of this storm and back to the lighthouse yesterday.

Tagging @emphasisonthehomo @fake-mouthstatic @ambernotember @frogsinflannel @vamphours @3min17sec @judymarch15 and @geddyqueer if you guys have stuff you wanna share 👀