#a v different kind of horror story

[termagax]

i thought slay the princess was a cool pitch that ultimately just comes off pretentious and a little Trying Too Hard to be scary and its concepts of like, Gods and Reality And The Meta and stuff are just kind of lame even if it has interesting philosophy slapped on top. and then i saw jonothan sims in the credits and i was like yeah okay

[yeollie-plz]

Promises.

Joel Miller x F! Reader

Synopsis: In a world where gender roles have been reestablished, Joel continues to save you.

Genre: fluff, smut, angst

Warnings: no outbreak but different outbreak?, i can't explain it, established relationship, Y/N insert, p in v sex, unprotected sex, forced marriage, kissing, mentions of alcoholism and abusive relationships, explosions, pet names, kissing, orgasm denial, breeding kink?, rough sex, spanking, hair pulling

All gif credits to owners!

A/N: Once again writing from a dream I had, idk why I get such vivid dreams sometimes but its honestly so fun!

Also! I am so sorry that I haven't written something in so long, I had literally no motivation. But I hope you didn't miss me too much! And hey, I'm coming back with a bang! (literally, in a few aspects)

When the world almost ended 20 years ago, the government had to issue new laws. Laws that matched up women to men, in order to ensure the repopulation of the human race.

If you were of age, you were matched and married, the man basically owned you. It was very medieval in concept and for a lot also in practice. But for you, it brought you Joel who had slowly but surely became your whole world.

He was kind and took care of you. Nothing like the horror stories you would hear from the other women. He wanted to protect you and let you take your time to warm up to him.

When you finally admitted you liked him he was overjoyed. He had kissed you but took his time with everything else. He knew it was your first time and he wanted to make sure you felt safe and loved. Joel was good and you couldn't be more happy with who was chosen for you.

The world, although now different and strange was the world you had to live in. You had to stay home, unless accompanied by Joel. The goal to repopulate the earth after an alien race tried to take over and wiped out half the population was going well. But with less humans and more aliens taking up living here, it wasn't the safest anymore.

Everyone was assigned a job, a person to marry, and a home to live in. It was organized with the goal of integrating humans and the aliens. And it was working as well as it could be. In the beginning it was rough but after so many years people were getting used to the new world order.

There, of course, was still some rebel groups out there. Women who wanted freedom, aliens who didn't want to be a part of earth, and humans who didn't want them either. Riots would happen here and there because of these rebel groups. But you? You were safe with Joel, you knew that, and you trusted him fully.

You woke to the sun shining in through the large windows that lined your apartment. One good thing about being assigned housing was that most were very nice. Rolling over you were met with an empty bed, Joel was no where to be found. There was no sound coming from the connected bathroom, and just as you were about to get out of bed in search of him there was a crash in the kitchen.

Out of instinct you threw the seats off of you and ran into the kitchen. Only to be met with Joel bent down on the floor cleaning up a broken plate.

"Joel?" You questioned, the shock now leaving your voice and being replaced by amusement.

"Hi baby." He said sheepishly as he picked up the last few shards.

"You okay?"

"Yep, just trying to make you breakfast a failing miserably, the usual." He shrugs and throws the shards away before leaving his mess for a second to give you a kiss on the cheek.

"It's the thought the counts." You smile at him while watching while he finishes up his cleaning.

You sit at the counter, watching him intently. After he finishes cleaning he returns to the stove. You hum to yourself as you watch him. The way his back flexes as he moves his arms makes you bite your lip.

Joel turns as you basically eye fuck him, smirking as he notices the look on your face. Placing a plate in front of you, he smiles at you, and leans across the counter for a kiss. You give him one and utter a small thank you.

After a few moments of comfortable silence, Joel spoke up, "Got a lot of cleanup at work today, someone vandalized the train station." He said almost absentmindedly.

You nod in response not being able to hide the concerned look on your face.

"What?" He questions, quickly noticing.

"It's just-" You set down your fork, "-it was probably one of the rebels and I just don't want you to be put in danger."

He smiles lovingly at you, "I'm sure they won't be anywhere near it anymore, it was just some spray paint. Besides, you don't think I can protect myself?"

"No, I know you can protect yourself. But you'll just want to protect everyone else as well, then you'll get yourself in trouble."

Joel lets out a half scoff half laugh at your statement. He knows you are right, he is a protector by nature. He grabs your hand, pulling it towards him in an attempt to draw your eyes to his.

"The only person I want to protect is you. Sure, I will help the guys if they need it but my main goal is always to come home to you." Kissing your knuckles, he puts your hand down.

"Promise?"

"Promise."

It had been a few hours since Joel had left for work. You did what you did most days which included some cleaning with a lot of relaxing. As you were settling down on the couch after cleaning up the breakfast dishes, heavy knocking came from the front door.

The sound made you jump, the aggression of the pounds sent chills down your spine. You usually weren't one to open the door when Joel wasn't home but you did like to at least see who is was.

So, as another set of knocks sounded on the heavy wood door, you dragged your ice cold body towards it. Your feet felt like lead as you stood straight to see clearly out of the peep hole.

On the other side was your neighbor, Jill. Jill had always been nice to you, yet you didn't really like her husband. He was arrogant and rude to say the least. But as Jill stood on the other side of the door, you could see fear etching her face. She shook as she glanced back and forth down the hallway. It was almost like she thought someone was following her.

After a few seconds of debating what to do and watching Jill secretively, you decided that whatever was happening to her was important enough to help. Girls had to stick together, especially when your world had become what it was.

Just as Jill was about to pound on the door again, you opened it slowly revealing yourself to her. She seemed almost shocked that you had answered.

"Jill?" You questioned trying to snap her out of her trance enough for her to explain.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know what else to do." She looked at you with pleading eyes and you knew this was something serious.

"Come in, I'll get you something to drink. Maybe some tea?" You weren't sure what else to do but when you were anxious you liked a nice warm tea, maybe Jill did too. She nods at your suggestion and enters the house.

You close the door behind the two of you. Telling her to make herself comfortable while you made her tea.

When you returned to the living room with a nice cup of tea, Jill was still stood in the entrance of your apartment. Arms crossed like she was trying to protect herself.

Slowly you made your way over to her, holding out the mug to her. She took it after a beat or two of staring at it.

"Please, sit down. Take your time, you can tell me what happened." She looked up from the mug to you as you spoke and nodded tentatively, but did what you said anyway.

Silence washed over the two of you and stayed there for almost three whole minutes. You weren't sure what to do so you kept glancing around like something on walls would tell you what to do.

Suddenly she placed her mug down on the coffee table. Your head snapped towards her, you had almost forgotten why she was here. Something had clearly happened and you were curious what.

"I'm sorry for coming over here so abruptly, it's terrible of me to put you in this position." She said with a sigh.

"It's no problem. I can tell you aren't doing great so I'd like to be there for you if I can be." You offer a smile which she almost returns.

"Uh well how do I put this?" She sits and thinks for a second.

"My match...my match isn't such a good fit. He isn't a good person. Since the wedding day he has gotten drunk almost every night. He gets angry and yells and breaks things. He's just a bad person. Even not drunk he isn't a good person." You nod along to the things she's saying. you've heard of bad matches but nothing this bad.

"Well for a while I put up with it. I mean what else am I going to do? This is what had been chosen for me. He didn't always take it out on me too, he would yell at nothing or himself. But eventually it was turned towards me. Nothing I did was right and no matter how hard I worked to keep everything perfect he'd find something wrong with it." Tears are beginning to form in the corners of her eyes the longer she tells you about her husband.

All you can do is sit there and listen, unsure of how to respond. You've never seen Joel angry, let alone as angry as she is describing her husband.

After taking a moment to compose herself, Jill continues, "He would yell and call me names. Tell me how worthless I am and he would throw things, break things. He never got physical with me so I took it. I took the names, I took the insults, all of it. But I couldn't take it anymore, I tried to stand up for myself. And-and-" She chokes up not able to finish her sentence.

This is when you reach out your arm to touch her shoulder. An attempt at a reassuring gesture that just has her jumping back instead. She recovers and looks up at you with apologetic eyes. You give a small smile back.

"He hurt me, badly. I thought he wouldn't stop, it just kept happening. I think I blacked out because when I came to he was gone. I didn't know what else to do so I came over here. I think I should go to the hospital but I can't go without him. I just don't know what to do." She was fully crying now, her words almost indiscernible as she sobbed.

You offered her a tissue which she took and sobbed even more into. Unsure if you should try and comfort her again, you decided it was better to try and this time she didn't shy away. Instead she leaned into the touch and you stroked her shoulder slowly. The action seemed to calm her down remarkably and she eventually calmed down enough that you felt it was a good time to finally respond.

"I'm so sorry this happened to you. I'm so sorry we don't get choices or options. I'm so sorry we are forced to submit to insane ideals and insane people." She lets out another sob. "Listen, Joel doesn't work too far from here and if you think you are strong enough we can go to him and he can take you to the hospital. As long as we have a man with us, they should treat you."

"You mean...go out alone."

You debate what you had just suggested, I guess you had suggested going out alone but it wouldn't be too far of a journey.

"It's not too far and we aren't alone we have each other. We can wear disguises if it makes you feel better. I just want to be able to get you the help you need."

"Are you sure Joel will help me?"

You nod, "If I ask him, he will do it."

She frowns a bit at your statement, you didn't realize how perfect you were making your relationship seem after she just poured her heart out to you.

"Listen, he will help, I promise."

So, the two of you donned some hood and masks in an attempt to cover your hair and feminine features. You also gave Jill an ice pack to soothe her injuries for the time being.

"Ready?" You glanced at her trying to decipher what she was thinking. She stood there still looking very guarded. "Here, we can hold hands, make sure the other doesn't get lost." You offer your hand to her with a smile, she smiles back and takes it.

Leaving your apartment the two of you make your way to the ground floor. It wasn't often that you left the apartment but when you did it was obviously always accompanied by Joel. Something about leaving on your own felt freeing but very scary at the same time.

The train station was a short walk from your building, maybe half a block. Joel always told you exactly where he was working that day and what he was doing. You liked to hear his stories of the outside world and it made you feel safe to know he was safe.

As the two of you got closer to the bustling crowds trying to catch their trains, you felt Jill tense up next to you. You glance at her and squeeze her hand tighter. This draws her attention to you.

"Not far now, we'll be fine."

You didn't know how much you would regret this sentence because as soon as you caught sight of Joel's salt and pepper hair an explosion busted out the wall a mere hundred or so feet to the left of you.

Through the hole in the wall came a group of rebel aliens, screaming and yelling something. With how loud and close the explosion was you ears were ringing. You glanced around at the crowd who was now running around in fear. Trying to catch a glimpse of your husband in the mess, you felt a hand tug yours. Looking down you saw Jill on the ground, curled into herself. She was crying again.

You jumped into action trying to pull her up so no one stepped on her, but she wouldn't budge. "Jill please, get up we need to get somewhere safer!"

She still didn't move, you looked around desperately. Either you were going to find Joel or someone else that could help. That's when you caught a glimpse of him. There was no way he could hear you over the yells and chaos but you called his name anyway.

And it was almost like his ears were trained to hear your voice and your voice alone because not long after beginning to call out to him, he locked eyes with him. He took a double take, convincing himself it wasn't really you. Then his eyebrows furrowed realizing he wasn't imagining things and quickly pushed through the crowd towards you.

He was now stood in front of you, your face in his hands as he looked you over. "Baby what are you doing here? Are you okay? Are you hurt?"

The questions came quickly, too quickly to answer so you nodded instead.

"Joel, I'm fine. I came to get your help and then the explosion..." You trailed off not sure how to explain yourself now that you had put yourself in such danger.

"Tell me later, come on, I gotta get you out of here." He tries to drag you out but you pull him back, stopping him.

"I can't go, we need to get Jill."

"Jill? Our neighbor, Jill?" You nod and gesture to her still on the ground.

He looks confused but doesn't question it, instead he walks over to Jill.

"Jill? Can you walk?" She shakes her head no.

"Can I carry you, we really need to get somewhere safe." She takes minute and eyes him closely, trying to decide if he was trustworthy. Finally, she nods.

So he picks her up carefully and turns to you, "Hold onto my shirt and don't let go." You nod and grab ahold of the plaid shirt he was currently wearing.

That's how the three of you made your way out of the chaos. But Joel didn't stop until you were at least a block away from the danger before stopping and setting Jill carefully down onto her shaking legs.

You quickly made your way to her to help her stabilize herself and when she did you looked back at Joel. His back was turned to you and his hands were in his hair. He wasn't happy, you knew that, so you didn't speak just kept trying to calm down Jill.

Finally he turned back around, eyes filled with something you had never seen before. At least something you had never seen in Joel.

He breathed deeply, "I need to get you home." He said simply.

"Okay, but Jill needs to go to the hospital first."

"What?" The curtness of his voice had you reeling back a bit, was he angry? You had never really seen Joel angry before, not at you at least.

Joel pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to calm himself before he said something he would regret.

"We will take her to the hospital, make sure she is in safe hands, then we are going home."

"But what if she needs me?" The look on his face at your response should've had you stopping at 'but', so you just nodded.

And that's what you did. Made sure Jill was in safe hands and that her family was called to help her and you were dragged home. It was less than twenty minutes before Joel was pushing you back out the door and dragging you home.

You didn't protest but you also didn't know what to say to him. So as the two of you entered your apartment, you went to explain yourself. Instead your explanations were muffled by Joel's lips on yours. The kiss was desperate, like he was unsure you were really there. Maybe unsure you were really okay?

"Joel-" You mumble into his lips as he doesn't stop kissing yours. A grunt sounds from him as he hears you say his name.

He doesn't want to talk it seems because his lips stay on yours and his hands find the back of your thighs lifting you up into arms. You help him by jumping and wrapping your legs around his hips. Your arms find their place behind his neck.

Joel carries you through the apartment, lips never letting up. They only disconnect as he drops you onto your bed and quickly takes off his shirt. Leaning back over you his knee is placed between your legs and you gasp at how close he is, his body heat, making you feel even warmer than you already did.

"I thought I lost you." He says simply but you can see in his eyes he really means those words.

But you don't have a chance to respond because his lips are back on you. This time trailing down your jaw to your neck, only to be stopped by the fabric of your shirt. Joel lets out another grunt as he grabs the bottom of shirt and quickly whips it off of you like it had offended him.

As soon as the shirt is off of you his lips are back on your neck, now trailing to the places he really wanted to get to. Your bra is unclasped quicker than you can even process what is happening. His mouth instantly biting at the sensitive skin of your breast, biting at it only a bit before licking down to your nipple.

You gasp as his mouth latches onto the sensitive bud. You hadn't realized how turned you were until that moment. Sure you wanted this, you always wanted Joel but the danger of the day was catching up with you. Now you needed him, needed to feel protected, loved.

"Joel please, I-" Hearing you beg had him unlatching his mouth from your breast and looking up at you.

For almost the first time in an hour he finally addresses you, "What do you want baby?"

"You Joel, I need you. I-I'm sorry." The apology wasn't what he was asking for but it was what he needed to hear because as soon as those two words left your lips he was returning his attention to your chest.

He now attached himself to your other breast, giving that nipple what it had been missing. His hands worked at the button of your pants, undoing it and the zipper quickly. He shoved them down your legs with your help, lips never leaving your flushed skin.

As soon as your pants were down his hands were playing with the hem of your underwear. The thin fabric causing his touches to feel even more intense as he teased you just a bit. But he knew neither of you could wait much longer so he pushed them to the side and started stroking your clit.

Slow circles at first which had you arching your back, chest pushed even farther into his mouth as he continued to take care of both of your nipples. He stroked your clit a few more times before letting his fingers dip further down, teasing your slit.

You were wet, very wet, so they slid easily against you and you gasped. You could feel him smirk against your nipple. But this time he detached himself from it and returned his mouth to yours.

He worked a finger into you in time with your kissing. Then two, then three. They curved against your insides, you moaned into the kiss and bit down on his lip as he brushed the perfect spot inside of you.

Your head tossed back as you got closer to your peak the more he stroked you g spot. When you gripped his shoulders, nails digging into his skin enough to draw blood, he pulled his fingers out of you. Leaving you at the brink of an orgasm. You let out a whine as your head snapped back up to look at him.

"I don't like punishing you, doll, but tonight you're gonna need some discipline." You didn't argue just let your head drop slightly. He brought his down and caught your lips in his, forcing your head back up.

You didn't notice but he had unbuckled his jeans and pushed them and his underwear down just enough to let his member loose. He doesn't take your panties off either, instead he leaves them how they were when he was fingering you as his tip teases your entrance. You were still very sensitive from your denied orgasm so your hips jerked up at the contact.

He pretended not to notice and slapped his dick onto your clit, causing you to buck up once again. He pulled back, eyes searching yours. Joel had this look about him when the two of you had sex, something between dominance and love but right now it was a fire. One you hadn't seen before and it made you nervous but oh so excited. It had you gushing between your legs.

You bit your lip as his tip pushed past your entrance, sliding in easily with how wet you were, not to mention his thick fingers being there only minutes earlier.

"Always so tight." Joel grunts as he hilts himself fully inside of you. He stays like that reveling in the feeling before slowly pulling himself almost fully out of you just to snap his hips forward back into you.

He continues this and it is so aggressive that you need to grip onto his shoulders again for any form of support. He had never fucked you like this before. It had your brain fogging up with pleasure.

Your peak catches up with you quickly. You whimper, needing the release you have been waiting for. Joel notices and brings his thumb down to rub your clit a few times. Your heart swells thinking he is going to let you cum. But it is too good to be true because just as you begin to clench around him he is pulling away and out of you.

"Told you, you need to remember how to be a good girl first." The name has you swallowing a lump in your throat.

"I am Joel, please, I need you inside me." He stutters at your words, but recovers quickly, flipping you over onto your stomach.

"You don't just get to cum whenever you want, gonna have to work for it pretty girl." He kneads your ass as he speaks, clearly liking his new view.

"I'll do anything." You speak so quietly, Joel almost misses it. A dark chuckle leaves his lips.

"Want you to suck my dick so badly right now, you have no idea. But this-" His hand lands onto your round ass with a smack, "-this is too tempting right now."

Another smack and his member is returning between your legs as he pushes into you. You moan loudly at the intrusion, constantly getting more and more sensitive the more he denies you of what you need.

He thrusts in an out of you at the same speed as earlier. When his hips snap into yours, he lands a smack onto your ass. He relishes the feeling of you sucking him in each time he spanks you. The feeling causing you to clench onto his dick.

The hand not making your skin burn red is holding your hip so tightly the skin is turning white, you there will be bruises there tomorrow. Hell, at this rate you'll have all kinds of marks tomorrow.

"Want to fill you up, need to see you full of my cum." Although you knew what had gotten into Joel, you had never seen this side of him and it was almost jarring how much of a change it was. Was this the true him? Was he scared to show this side of himself? Scared you couldn't handle it? Fuck was he wrong.

"Please, I need your cum." And you decided to truly show him he was wrong. You liked this side of him and you wanted him to know that.

Joel grunted snapping his hips into yours so roughly it had you seeing stars. You could tell he was close and unsurprisingly so were you. You pushed your hips back into his and he was too far gone to deny you any longer.

"Joel, baby, please can I cum now?"

"Let go for me, I need you clench around this dick as I fill you with my seed. Want to see you all round and pregnant for me." His words send you over the edge with the orgasm you have been waiting for all night.

You clench like a vice onto his cock, the feeling sending him over his edge as well. The hand that was spanking you is sent up your spine to grip the back of your hair pulling your head back so he can attach his lips to yours.

You each moan into each other's mouths as he continues to pump you full of his seed. He works you both through your orgasms as your lips work against each other as well. Your breaths come out ragged as he finally pulls away, resting his forehead against yours.

His eyes are closed as he speaks, "Did I hurt you baby?"

"No! I uh, I actually enjoyed it very much." He laughs at your response.

"I'm glad." He pauses. "I'm sorry."

"For what?" Your brows furrow.

"For getting mad and getting rough with you, I never wanted to show you this side of me."

"Hey, look at me." He does. "I like every side of you. I should be the one apologizing right now. I got myself into danger by going against the rules."

Joel sighs and swallows the lump that was sitting in the back of his throat.

"I love you." Is all he can think to say.

"I love you." Is all you need to respond.

[arcane-vagabond]

Amhrán na Farraige

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Selkie!Reader

Summary: For centuries there have been legends of beautiful women who disguise themselves as creatures from the sea, only coming to land to sate their curiosity about the world above. Bradley was a simple man who had a taste for simple pleasures. A whole life spent at sea meant he was accustomed to these tales, but nothing prepares him for the reality of them.

Content Warning: ANGST, smut (brief, p in v), Pregnancy, References to the supernatural, Third person narrative, Some fluff, Dub-con, Kidnapping, Forced marriage (kind of, you'll see), Stockholm Syndrome, Some domestic violence (against spouse and towards children. Nothing heinous, just some grabbing and shaking), Anger, Celtic myths/legends, Celtic songs, Depression, Lies, Men driven mad, Descriptions of blood. I think I got everything, but PLEASE let me know if I missed anything.

Word Count: 13.2k

Helpful pronunciations (not exact, but close):

Amhrán na Farraige - [oh-ron nuh far-ig-uh] "Song of the Sea"

Sidhe - [She] "Fairy" (Also there's a whole etymology thing with this but yeah)

Mo Chroi - [moh khree] "My heart"

Mo Ghrá - [moh graw] "My love"

Mo Mhuirnín - [moh wor-neen] "My beloved"

Mo Stóirín - [mo store-een] "My Little Treasure"

Song One (The cliffs) || Song Two (The end)

God was not real, of this Bradley Bradshaw was sure and certain. At the very least, if he had existed at all, he was surely dead now. Or perhaps he was a neglectful deity. Bradley had seen too much death and hardship in his life to think otherwise.

He had seen men gasp for an unhearing god as they lay on battlefields, blood coursing out the holes in their bodies as tears streamed down their unseeing eyes. He had seen children starve, begging their still mothers for food that would never come, not while hardship endured in the land. He had heard the wails of women as their sons, brothers, fathers, and husbands never returned home, hand reaching out for an embrace that would never be returned.

All eyes looked to God, but God did not look back.

The only thing Bradley was sure of, was the existence of the fair folk, the Sidhe his mother had always called them. The beings who walked the between, never staying long in this world or the next.

“That shadow that lingers in the corner of your eye?” She had smiled, stroking the hair out of his face. “That’s the fair folk, honey. Always watching, but never seen. If they do let you see them, Bradley, then it’s already over. They’ve gotten you.”

His mother had done her best to keep him sheltered from the horrors of the world, but death and famine followed the people along the coast. His father had died in a shipwreck off the coast when he was young, and while his mother had done her best to keep her sorrow hidden, Bradley often caught her eye turned towards the sea. She disappeared when he was only sixteen.

Bradley had heard stories of people being taken by the fair folk, lured to the hills beyond the town, some never to be seen again, while others came back different. He wondered if the men who had gone off to war had been taken, replaced with something hollow, something not quite all there. Had his mother been taken by the Sidhe? Taken to the land beyond to be with his father? Or had her sorrow and longing for her long-dead husband become too much all at once, the grips of the icy waters too tempting an offer to resist?

It didn’t matter anymore, though. Bradley was alone and took work where he could, soft hands of youth turning to calloused hands of adulthood. His once bright eyes grew dull from the monotony of the jobs at sea, life becoming routine as day after day he boarded a ship to earn his livelihood.

As he grew older, the wages from the odd jobs allowed him to purchase his own vessel, a small boat that rocked in the choppy waves as he hunted the seals that littered the coasts.

He remembered watching from the small house he and his mother lived in as the creatures hopped out of the water to lay on the rocks. He would inch towards the door until she caught him, a stern look on her face as she scowled at him.

“If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a thousand times,” she scolded him, hands on her hips. “You leave those creatures alone. They’re not doing anything to bother you.”

“Elijah’s da’ hunts them,” he remarked once, only serving to deepen her scowl.

“He does,” she muttered. “And he’s a lucky man that the selkies are a forgiving lot.”

“What’s a selkie?” Bradley had asked, eyes lighting up in intrigue. His mother regarded him for a moment before gesturing for him to sit in one of the chairs by the fireplace. Bradley settled in, eyes eager as he waited for his mother to explain.

“The selkies are fair folk of the sea,” she began, eyes serious as they darted above his head to look out the window towards the beach. “They may look like seals, but underneath their blubber and fur, they look like people just like you and me. They’re beautiful, Bradley, but curious to a fault. They walk on land in human form, shedding their seal skin once every seven years.”

“Why seven?” He had asked, voice small with wonder.

“Just the way the magic works,” she had replied with a shrug. “You can always tell when a seal is a selkie based on the size. The bigger the seal, the more likely it is to be a selkie, Bradley. Killing it and taking the skin will earn you pay, but you’ll have blood of the fair folk on your hand. Remember that.”

And he had remembered, for a while at least. He would watch the seals as they basked on the rocks, always wondering if the ones that met his curious gaze were one of the fair folk - a selkie.

Now the years had passed, grown from a small boy into a man of large stature. He commanded respect from those in the small, seaside village. Long had the days passed when his mother had warned him of hunting the seals and long had passed the days when he took those warnings seriously. He had joined the few who hunted the creatures around the rocky shores, braving the misty seas to earn himself a living.

He sat in his boat, the waves rocking him side to side in the way they often do during misty weather. Bitter cold clawed at his skin, numbing his fingers as he waited. Waited for something to come out of the water. Waited for any sign that he would earn a meal.

He fiddled with the ropes that lie around the floor of the boat, tying knots that he would need later. Undoing them, tying them, undoing them again. Anything to keep himself occupied while he lay in wait.

His breaths came out as white puffs of clouds, matching the ones surrounding him. Ice water clung to the whiskers on his upper lip, dripping down to run along his jaw and throat. He shifted, burying himself further into the warmth his coat provided. It was worn. He would need a new one soon. All the more reason to keep hoping for a prize catch.

The sound of disturbed water drew his attention towards the shore, and he slowly crept forward to peer over the side of the boat. A large seal bobbed at the surface, taking slow, deep breaths of the cold air that surrounded them. Slowly, Bradley reached for his harpoon, watching as the seal floated closer and closer. He raised his arm slowly, taking aim. He took a breath. Then another.

He released the harpoon just as a wave crashed into the side of his boat, sending the weapon veering off course. The harpoon struck the seal’s side, creating a gash that seeped blood into the water. The seal gave a pained cry, diving down into the murky depths of the sea, and Bradley cursed.

He stared at the spot where the seal had disappeared, already feeling the pangs of hunger stab at him. His nostrils flared as the desperate sense of anger welled up within him. How could he have been so careless? The size of that pelt would have brought in enough money to last him months. He heaved a sigh, pulling the rope to bring the harpoon back towards him. His fingers dipped into the icy water, the pain of it distracting him momentarily from his despair.

Bradley tossed the harpoon to the floor, the item landing with a thud as he slumped onto the bench. He buried his face in his hands, mind moving with blinding speed. He could still earn enough money to survive, he thought to himself. He could still do this. He just had to be more careful next time, should wait until he’s closer so he doesn’t miss. Still, his mind wandered back to the seal. The sheer size of it had his mind drifting back to the stories his mother had always told him. Of course, Bradley was older now, and he wouldn’t be scared by tall tales. However, the foolishness of youth still clung to him, for though he was now considered a man, he was barely twenty-two summers old.

Bradley heaved a sigh, sitting up and rubbing his hands together to create some warmth that would awaken his freezing fingers. He gripped the oars in his hands and began to row back to shore, the sun already dipping towards the horizon. He was always tempted to stay out past dark, but the older fishermen and hunters warned him of the dangers that came about at night. While Bradley was a fool, he wasn’t stupid.

He neared the dock that stood on the beach outside his home, moving to secure the boat to one of the posts when something caught his eye.

It floated in the water, a silvery grey blob that moved with the tide. Bradley’s eyes narrowed as he tried to place what it was in his mind. The blob slapped up against the side of the boat, and it was then that he realized what he was looking at. It was a perfectly preserved seal pelt, much like the one he had just seen. He supposed that it had fallen off a cart on the way to market, the winding roads by the cliffs being one of the few ways to make it into town. It wasn’t unusual for things to be knocked off of carts, finding their way onto the beaches and eventually into the sea.

Bradley wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth, not after his blunder. He scooped the pelt into the boat, laying it out to dry before lifting himself onto the dock. It would be days before he could take it to the market to sell, and he hoped no one recognized it when he did make his way into town.

An odd feeling overcame him in that moment, a feeling of unease and tension winding up his spine and gripping his throat. The feeling told him he was being watched, but by what, he did not know. His eyes darted around, expecting to see one of his neighbors by the house, but no one stood atop the cliff. The wind picked up around him, the cold of it stealing the breath from his lungs, and he curled in within himself to try and preserve some of the warmth he had left. The feeling told him he was making a mistake, but he ignored it, surmising that what he felt was guilt at having come into fortune from another’s strife.

Bradley shook his head to rid himself of the feeling, taking one last look around before trudging across the beach and up the path to his home.

The house was cold, but not for lack of warmth. Bradley kept the rooms heated well. No, the house lacked the happiness that made it a home, and this was something he was keenly aware of. It had been a home once, way back before his mother had disappeared.

Now, Bradley existed within its walls, hoping one day that he would find himself ready to settle for one of the pretty girls in town, the ones that smiled at him sweetly whenever he deemed it necessary to venture in. Perhaps he would finally give in to Orla’s flirting. She was a sweet thing, always filling his cup more than she ought to, setting it down in front of him with a bat of her eyes. She wasn’t a bad choice.

Bradley shook the thoughts from his head. He couldn’t entertain the idea of taking a wife, not when his circumstances were so uncertain.

He settled further down into his chair, feet propped up by the fire, the glowing embers serving to help warm him from his time out in the cold air during the day. The wood cracked and popped as the fire consumed it, and Bradley soon found himself dozing off. Exhaustion seeped down to the very marrow of his bones, his muscles stiff from the hours spent hunched over on the boat. His eyes began to flutter shut, urging him to embrace the sweet oblivion that came with sleep.

His body jerked, eyes snapping open. He wasn’t sure what had startled him at first, his heart hammering away in his chest as he let out a shaky breath. His ears perked, eyes darting as he waited for whatever it was that had roused him. He didn’t have to wait long, a second cry sounding from outside.

It was one of pure, unadulterated sorrow. The cry of someone so grief stricken, they sounded almost like an animal. A chill ran down Bradley’s spine at the sound, and cautiously he moved to stand, heading towards the front door. Every fiber in his body screamed at him to leave well enough alone, but he worried that someone might be heart or in trouble. Grabbing his coat, he slipped back into his boots and walked out the door.

The cold was something he thought he should be used to at this point, but it still shocked his system every time he stepped foot out into it. The moon was the only source of light save for the faint, orange glow that filtered out of the windows of his house. The air stung his lungs, and he suppressed a shiver that threatened to run up his spine. The cry had sounded far, coming from towards the beach if he had to guess. He began to walk, boots crunching against the dirt path as it gave way to sand. The waves crashed against the shore like thunder, so loud that he almost didn’t hear the faint cries coming from further down the strip of sand.

He almost missed her huddled in the sand, back pressed up against one of the large rocks at the edge of the shoreline where sand met grass. Her head was buried in the crook of her arms, shoulders shaking as she cried, quiet whimpers wracking her body.

“Miss?” He called out once he was a few feet away. “Are you okay?”

Her head snapped up, hair falling in her face as sorrow filled eyes peered up at him. The look of her knocked all air out of his lungs, and for a moment he couldn’t focus on anything but how beautiful the woman in front of him was.

“Can’t find it,” she croaked. Her voice was still sweet sounding despite the hoarseness of it, and Bradley found himself captivated even further by her. His eyes left her face then, realizing for the first time that she was naked.

“Oh my god,” he murmured, rushing forward as he shrugged off his coat. “Here, take this.”

He wrapped the coat around her smaller frame, the material dwarfing her. Her lips trembled, though Bradley suspected it wasn’t from the cold. She didn’t seem to see him as she continued muttering to herself, eyes darting wildly between her hands and the sea.

“Can’t find it,” she said again, her voice growing in pitch as the desperation took hold.

“Can’t find what?” Bradley asked, brow furrowing in confusion as he glanced around the beach. “Did someone hurt you? Where are your clothes?”

A choked cry spilled past her lips as a fresh wave of tears began to stream down her face. She shook her head wildly, hands darting out to grasp at his shirt. Her fingers seemed to push him away and pull him closer at the same time as another wail climbed up her throat.

“Can’t find it!” She shrieked, eyes growing wider as she stared at the water. “Wanna go home.”

“Where is home?” Bradley asked, his own anxiety beginning to peak as he gripped onto the woman’s shoulders. Her eyes glanced to his, but they did not see him.

“Between the light, between the dark,” she whispered, eyes boring into him. “Between the cold, between the warmth. Between the moon, between the sun. Between the north, between the south.”

The between was something Bradley’s mother had always cautioned him about.

“It’s where the fair folk live, Bradley,” she had told him. “They don’t live here, but they don’t live fully in the other. They’re from somewhere in between.”

He shook the thought from his head. He knew he was being superstitious, ridiculous even. The fair folk were prideful beings, surely one wouldn’t be sitting here talking with him like this.

And yet, as Bradley looked upon this woman, heard how she spoke, a voice in the back of his mind whispered to him that there was something strange about her. Something…otherworldly.

“Are you alone?” He settled on, trepidation clear in his tone. “Is there someone I can go get for you?”

“Can’t go home,” she muttered, eyes turned longingly to the sea as tears streamed down her face. “It’s too late.”

Bradley heaved out a sigh. He would have to take her home, let her rest and try again in the morning.

“Can you stand?” He asked her. She said nothing, nails biting into the skin of her arms as she continued to stare out at the water. Bradley reached out to her, Taking her arms gently to help her stand. Her lips curled in a wince, hand flying to her side. His eyes flickered down, and for the first time noticed the dried blood on her side.

“You’re hurt,” he frowned, moving closer to inspect the wound, but she shied away from him, her own frown tugging on her lips. His tongue darted out to wet his own nervously, as he glanced from her to the house.

“My house is a bit of a ways up the hill,” he started, nodding towards it. Her gaze was more focused now, eyes flickering towards where he gestured. “Do you think you can make it?”

She didn’t respond, instead tilting her head to the side as she regarded the distance. Finally, she nodded, and Bradley felt his shoulders sag in relief. The wind whipped around them, and he was reminded of how cold it was. It would be best to get her inside as soon as possible, though he couldn’t help but notice that she seemed holy unaffected by the freezing temperatures even though she stood in nothing but his coat.

He waited for her to move towards the house, but she remained still, watching him watch her. Finally, he pressed his lips together and began to walk towards the house, boots crunching against the ground once more. The woman made no sound as she moved behind him, her gaze fixated on him the entire time.

He paused outside the front door, hand hesitating above the knob. Slowly, he turned to look at her once more. Her eyes stared back at him, eyes that reflected the orange glow cast into the night, eyes that swirled with knowledge that Bradley could only dream of. She said nothing as they watched each other, those sorrowful eyes watching him with curiosity, so much like seals that littered the shores. Bradley sucked in a quick breath before turning around to push the door open.

The warmth was welcome, and he felt some of the tension ease from his shoulders as he stepped into the main room, turning to watch as the woman stepped across the threshold. Her eyes darted around, taking in the various pieces of furniture and decorations that were scattered about as Bradley closed the door softly behind her. She took a few more tentative steps into the house, head cocking to the side in such an unusual way as to further confirm what Bradley was slowly accepting.

She walked past him, eyes glittering with intrigue as she came up to the fire. She crouched down, head still tilting to one side, and Bradley was captivated by the sight of this beautiful woman bathed in the light of the fire in his home. Before he could react, she reached a hand out into the flame, letting out a startled, pained yelp as she retracted it. A whimper left her lips as Bradley rushed forward, kneeling in front of her and taking her hand in his.

“Why would you do that?” He asked, no real heat behind his tone as he inspected her fingertips. “Don’t you know it’s hot?”

Her fingertips were a little pink, but otherwise no real damage had been done. She stared at him with an unreadable expression, eyes still studying him. He hesitated for a moment before moving to stand, keeping her hand in his.

“I can show you to your room,” he told her, tugging on her hand lightly. Her eyes scanned him from head to foot and then back again before allowing him to pull her to her feet. The two padded down a small hallway before he pushed the door open to a bedroom that had long stood unoccupied. He tugged her inside, motioning for her to sit on the bed. She sat obediently, watching and waiting for him to make his next move.

“I’ll be right back,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck as he exited the room. He made his way to the washroom, grabbing bandages, a cloth, a bowl, and a pitcher of water. He returned to the room quickly, finding that the woman had not moved an inch in the time he was gone. He sucked in a breath as their eyes once again met, wary meeting curious. He set the items on the bedside table as he gestured at her.

“You’ll need to take that off so I can see the wound,” he murmured, heat rising to his cheeks as he glanced at her uneasily. She paid no mind to his discomfort, easily shedding the coat and exposing her naked body to him as simply as if he had asked her to close the door. He cleared his throat, eyes darting down to look at the angry-looking gash on her side. The wound appeared to be superficial, but he couldn’t be sure until he cleaned it.

He turned to ready the cloth, keeping the bowl of water close so he could rinse if he needed to. Tentatively, he reached a hand up, running his fingers over the dried blood upon her skin, eyes darting up to search for any sign of distress. Her face remained impassive as she watched him, and Bradley’s jaw clenched as he began to wipe gently at the wound.

He had been correct in his initial assessment, the gash was more of a flesh wound and thankfully wouldn’t require stitching. He grabbed some of the salve he had brought in, applying a decent layer before wrapping a bandage around her midsection. Bradley tried not to think of how close he was to the woman, of how beautiful she was, especially when she seemed wholly unbothered by his presence.

“I, um,” he stuttered, cursing his nervousness, “I can bring you something to wear. I still have some of my ma’s things.”

He didn’t wait for her to answer, not that she would give him one if the last half hour had been any indication. He made his way down the hall to the door he had not opened in years, taking a deep breath to steady himself before pushing inside.

The room was just as his mother had left it all those years ago, the only thing having changed was the layer of dust that coated everything. Bradley moved quickly to the wardrobe on the far side of the room, opening it to reveal several different clothing options. He grabbed what he could carry, making sure to grab some of the sleeping garments before heading back down the hall. The woman sat unmoved once more as he appeared, draping the options on the chair to his left by the vanity.

“I wasn’t sure what you’d like,” he said lamely, gesturing towards the clothing, “so I grabbed what I thought might look nice.”

The woman’s gaze moved slowly to the clothing before she rose to her feet. She padded across the room, not a sound from her as she walked over towards where he stood. Her eyes darted up to his for a moment before back down to the clothes. Small hands reached out to pick up one of the nightgowns he had grabbed, eyes studying it with a frown. Her hands tightened on the fabric, a look of despair washing over her face and disappearing just as quickly before she slowly eased it over her head, letting it drape down her form. She reached her hands up to pull her long hair out of the confines, letting it run down her back as she stared up at him.

There was something inherently wild about her, something that sent Bradley’s heart racing as he looked at her standing there in the room. She looked so out of place but so at ease with her surroundings, and he could hardly stand it.

“My room is just down the hall,” he told her, shoulders pulling back a fraction as he regarded her. “If you need me, I’ll be there.”

He gathered the things he had brought in, moving to leave when she grabbed his shirt, stopping him. He glanced at her from over his shoulder, brow furrowed in confusion as he waited for her to speak.

“Do you hear them?” She asked, voice barely above a whisper. “They’re calling for me.”

Bradley listened in the silence that followed, and it was a second before he heard the quiet, distant barks of seals mixed with the keen of something he could not place - something not quite human, not quite animal. He looked at the woman, her eyes having grown distant once more as a tear slid down her face. Bradley sucked in a quick breath as a shudder ran up his spine.

“You should get some sleep,” he whispered, breaking the silence. “You seem like you’ve had a long day.”

The woman looked at him once more, sadness swelling within her eyes before she slowly nodded, letting him go. She turned towards the bed, padding silently across the room once more.

Bradley closed the door behind him as he left, hands shaking as he listened for the click of the latch before putting away the items in hand. He put out the fire, washing the room in darkness as he dragged a hand over his face. With a glance towards the hall, he crept towards the front door, opening it and shutting it behind him carefully as to not make a sound. The cries from before could be heard louder now, and Bradley thought his heart would burst from his chest from the unease that enveloped him.

The moon still shone bright, lighting his path down towards the dock and his boat. The waves lapped against the shore, the cries louder the closer he came. His boat knocked against the wooden stands of the dock with every crash of the waves, and sitting there, on top of the bench, lay the pelt.

Bradley’s heart quickened at the sight, a sense of dread filling him at what he might find once he inspected it. His boots clicked against the wood as he made his way down to the edge. He kneeled down, snatching the pelt from its perch and into his hands. It was soft, nearly dry. He ran his hands over it, inspecting it closely as he squinted in the dark.

He was lost in the sensation of the pelt, how smooth and soft it felt in his hands, and for a moment he allowed himself to close his eyes and compare it to how soft the woman’s skin had felt under his fingertips earlier. He was pulled from his thoughts as the soft fur transformed into a matted and cracked mess. His eyes flew open, breath catching in his throat as he took in the bloodied tear down the side of the pelt.

Right where the gash on the woman was.

There was no denying it in his mind now. The woman in his home was one of the Sidhe - a selkie.

The cries grew louder, and Bradley’s head whipped up to stare out into the water. He couldn’t see them, but knew they were out there, searching for a sister that was lost to them. His grip on the pelt tightened, and his heartbeat thundered in his ears. He scrambled back to his feet, boots stomping against the wood and then the ground as he ran back to the house. His mind raced with thought after thought as his lungs burned from lack of oxygen. His hand reached out to open the door, but he stopped short, fingers hovering over the knob.

The cries off in the distance sounded as he stared at his front door before looking down at the pelt in hand. He could return it to the woman, let her return back to the sea she called home. But a more sinister thought crossed his mind. Why should he give it back? The woman was safe with him, after all. He could protect her from those that wished to hunt her, keep her warm and fed like a man should. He could love her, give her a life beyond what the sea had to offer. The memory of her skin under his fingertips once again rushed to the forefront of his mind, and he allowed his hand to drop back to his side. Yes, he would keep the pelt. Keep it hidden away where she nor anyone else would ever find it.

He turned on his heel, running towards the small shack just a few yards away from the house, ripping the door open and stepping inside. The structure held mostly items necessary for fishing and repairing his boat, but an old trunk sat in the back, practically hidden by various tarps and other objects. The cries of the other selkies grew louder, almost like they could sense the pelt in his hands and were coming to find it.

Bradley pulled the trunk out into the open, moving to the workbench and grabbing one of the keys that sat in the top drawer. He kneeled down in front of the trunk, unlocking it and opening the lid with a quiet creak. Inside lay old photos and trinkets that his father and mother had collected over their years together. He pulled a few items out before placing the pelt gently into the trunk, covering it back up with the aforementioned items.

He closed the lid, locking it. The wailing cries coming to an abrupt and sudden stop as he did so. He stayed there for a moment, the only sound to be heard being his heavy breathing and the waves crashing against the shore below. Slowly, he moved to stand, shoving the trunk back where he found it and hiding it away once more. No one would think to look in there. No one would know what he kept hidden. He tossed the key back into the top drawer, stepping out of the shack and back into the night.

The air was still around him, eerily so, and Bradley made his way quickly back to the house. His fingers were numb, whether it be from cold or nerves he wasn’t sure, but the tension didn’t ease as he closed the front door quietly behind him, his back pressed against it for a moment as he listened for any sound that the woman might have heard him. Hearing nothing, he toed his boots off, setting them by the door before making his way quietly towards his room, noting that no light shone under the woman’s door. He changed quickly for bed, crawling under the blankets as if they might shield him from the consequences of his actions that evening. He took a few calm, steadying breaths before closing his eyes.

Sleep did not come easy to him that night.

The first morning had been awkward, Bradley rising with the dawn to find the woman already sitting at the dining table, fingers fidgeting with the sleeves of the nightgown. Her eyes darted up to meet his as he entered the room, stopping short at the sight of her.

“You’re awake,” he murmured, shock clear in his voice as they stared at one another. She blinked at him, saying nothing. She seemed perkier this morning, albeit still cautious as she watched him walk further into the room. Bradley grabbed the box of matches from the shelf, taking one out and striking it with a pop. The woman jumped at the sound, eyes flickering to the watch as he leaned down to light the stove, shaking the match out once he was done.

“What is that?” She asked, and Bradley turned to look at her in surprise.

“What is what?”

“The colors,” she supplied, nodding at the burnt match in his hand. She pointed towards the fireplace. “They were in the cave over there last night as well.”

Bradley’s gaze flickered over to where she pointed before landing back on her.

“It’s called fire,” he started slowly, a frown tugging on his lips. “I use it to cook things and keep the house warm.”

“Fire,” she repeated, testing the word out on her lips. “It hurts.”

“It can,” Bradley agreed, a ghost of a smile on his lips. “You shouldn’t touch it.”

She nodded solemnly, clasping her hands out in front of her. She watched as he began to prepare breakfast, turning on the toaster and slicing up the fish to cook in the pan.

“I like those.”

Bradley turned back around to find the woman sitting with most of her torso on top of the table, her legs stretched to accommodate her. Eyes shone with delight at the sight of the fish, and Bradley arched a brow at her.

“Yeah?” He hummed. She nodded enthusiastically, tongue darting out to lick at her lips.

“There’s lots of them,” she told him. “They swim in groups and they’re easy to catch. The fishermen catch them using nets.”

“They do,” Bradley nodded, laying a strip of the mackerel down in the pan. It began to sizzle, and he was struck with how hungry he truly was.

“What are you doing?”

He jumped, turning to look where the woman now stood, eyes wide as she watched the fish cook down. He stared at her for a moment before turning his attention back to the fish, flipping it over before it burned.

“I’m cooking,” he told her. The woman leaned forward, sniffing at the food before wrinkling her nose.

“It smells weird,” she muttered, and Bradley laughed.

“It smells fine,” he smiled, sliding the fish onto one of the plates on the counter. “You’ve just never had it cooked, I’ll bet.”

He ushered her back towards the table, setting the plate down at the spot she just occupied and handing her a fork. He turned back towards the stove, laying another slice of the fish down as the woman took a tentative bite. Chewing slowly, she perked up as the taste rushed over her, shoveling more into her mouth with a satisfied purr. Bradley soon joined her, chuckling as he watched her. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt so light, the last time he laughed so freely.

“You should slow down,” he smirked, taking a bite from his own plate. “You don’t want to choke.”

She peered up at him, pausing in her feast as she considered his words. She cocked her head to the side in that curious way before taking a slower bite, looking up at him for approval. The two ate in silence for a few moments before Bradley cleared his throat, drawing her attention.

“My name is Bradley,” he said, glancing up at her as he swallowed a mouthful of fish.

“Bradley.”

“What should I call you?” He asked, and she frowned in confusion.

“What do you want to call me?” She asked him.

“Don’t you have a name?” He chuckled, disbelief coloring his voice. Surely even the fair folk had names to give. Her face drew tight in sorrow once more, and Bradley felt a twinge of pain in his chest at the sight. Her gaze slowly turned towards the window where the sea lay just out of sight.

“Only the water knows my name,” she told him, grip loosening on her fork as it clattered against the plate. “Only it can say it.”

Bradley watched her. Watched how her breathing grew ragged. Watched how her eyes glistened with unshed tears for a home she would not return to. Her lips trembled, and Bradley cleared his throat.

“I need to head into town,” he said. “Need to see a man about a job. Do you want to come with me?”

She turned to look at him, eyes still hazy from wherever she had let herself wander. She blinked once, twice.

“I suppose,” she whispered finally. Bradley nodded, clearing the plates from the table.

“You’ll need to change,” he told her. “You can’t go out wearing that.”

She looked down at her nightgown with a frown before looking back up at him.

“It’s, uh,” he stuttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s not appropriate for others to see you dressed like that.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Just,” he blew out a breath, “please pick a different dress?”

She gave him a sour look before standing and disappearing down the hall. Bradley blew out a breath before moving to clean the kitchen area. The woman reappeared, wearing a simple, blue dress. Bradley nodded in approval before his eyes landed on her bare feet.

“Stay here,” he told her, walking down the hall to the far bedroom. He walked in, straight up to the wardrobe and began rummaging through until he found a pair of his mother’s old shoes. He reappeared in the kitchen, handing the woman the shoes with a shy smile.

“I don’t know how well they’ll fit,” he started, “but they should work until we get you some new ones.”

She eyed them distastefully, nose wrinkled in disgust.

“I don’t want them,” she said finally, moving to hand them back to Bradley. He shook his head.

“You need them. They’ll protect your feet, and people will expect you to wear them.”

She scowled, pushing them forward once more, but Bradley stopped her.

“Please, mo chroi,” he pleaded. “Just while we’re in town. You can take them off as soon as we’re home.”

Her gaze softened at the endearment, and reluctantly, she shoved her feet into them. He helped her lace them, calloused fingers making nimble work of them, and soon they were ready to go. He grabbed a thin jacket for himself while he made sure to hand her the heavy coat to combat the frigid air outside. The walk to town took about an hour, and the weather was sure to still be cold and damp as it often was during the time between spring and winter.

Bradley turned to her, a thin-lipped smile on his face as his hand rested on the door. He gave her a once over.

She looked like any other person upon first glance, but if you stared too long, something wild shone on her person that drew you in. Like it would suffocate you if you stared too long. He sucked in a breath, torn between keeping her in his sight and making her stay. If she came, the townsfolk would surely be able to guess that she was not a mere human girl, but if she stayed? If she stayed, she might find the one thing he hoped she never would.

“Alright,” he breathed. “Let’s go.”

Weeks had passed, and the two had developed a routine of sorts. Bradley had started work as the lighthouse keeper, walking every day down the path along the cliffs to clean and polish the light that guided ships to shore. When he finished, he began work on the nets for when he ventured out into the sea to catch fish. It was a steady source of food, and food was not something Bradley took lightly. Memories of what it felt like to go hungry when there was so little to go around, fueled his drive to ensure there was enough, always enough and plenty to spare. He showed mo chroi how to prepare and salt the fish they couldn’t eat, showing her how to store it for future meals.

She was a quick learner, performing the tasks diligently as the days passed, and soon she took over most of the household chores. The widow Callahan checked in on them from time to time, her wise eyes studying the new woman of the house every time she came by.

“Be careful, young man,” she’d always say, dark eyes narrowed up at him. “You may have tamed her now, but the fair folk were not meant for gilded cages. Don’t give her what you cannot spare.”

Bradley would assure her that he wouldn’t, but in truth, he had no idea what she was telling him. He was content with how things were, content to have a partner by his side to help with the work he had done by himself for years. He still caught her staring longingly out at the waters she once called home, but the longing looks grew farther and farther apart the longer she stayed with him, resigning herself to her new life on land.

He was mending a tear in one of the nets when she appeared beside him, silent as always. He was used to it now, no longer startling every time she appeared around him without a sound. He became attuned to her presence, sensing when she came and when she left.

She said nothing to him at first, content to watch him as he worked, and he was content to keep working. It wasn’t until she kneeled beside him, gentle hand placed on top of his arm that he stopped.

“What is it, mo chroi?” He asked, gazing up at her. The sun was sinking towards the horizon, casting a faint golden glow onto the summer evening. Bradley couldn’t help but to admire her beauty in the dimming light, eyes glittering and skin smooth as porcelain as they looked at him. She wore only a white chemise, something she was prone to do when it was just the two of them. She didn’t like the heavy, scratchy feel of the dresses, only wearing them when there was company or when the two ventured into town. Bradley complied with her whims, finding it hard to say no to her.

“Why do you not have a woman?”

The question caught him off guard, eyes widening as his jaw went slack.

“What?” He blinked, scrambling to make sense of her question. She hummed, pressing closer to him. Bradley found it hard to think with the feel of her soft, warm body so close to his, one hand tracing over the planes of his chest as she continued.

“The men in the village,” she pressed, eyes never wavering as they bore into his own, almost hypnotic in the way they captured him, “they all have a woman to keep them company, to hold them, to love them. But you do not.”

Bradley’s eyes darted back and forth between her own, words failing him. She lifted a leg, resting it in between his own as she straddled his thigh. The hand that rested on his arm trailed up to play with the curls at the base of his skull, her body flush with his now as his hands came up to rest on her thighs. The hem of her chemise rode up to reveal smooth thighs that had Bradley reeling with lust. She leaned forward, a purr on her lips as she trailed her nose along his jaw and up to his ear.

“Is it me?” She asked softly, hand splayed on his chest as her lips brushed along the shell of his ear. A shudder ran up along Bradley’s spine at the sensation, mind growing hazy and clouded with lust for the creature before him.

“Am I yours?” She breathed, meeting his eyes once more. The air between them was charged, and for a moment Bradley could think of nothing but the way she felt against him. The way her lips hovered over his.

He lunged forward, pulling her impossibly closer as their lips melded against one another. He was spellbound, captivated, obsessed. His hands tightened on her thighs, and she sighed against his mouth, spurring him on to nip at her bottom lip. She granted him entrance, gasping as he licked hungrily into her mouth, the sweet taste of her driving him mad as a hand slid up to press against her lower back.

She wasted no time lifting herself off of him long enough to free him from the confines of his trousers, small hands gripping his hardening length. He let out a pleasured groan, head tilting back as she stroked him slowly before positioning herself atop him. There was no buildup between them, Bradley gripping at her as she slowly eased herself down onto him. A keen left her lips as he stretched her, mind numbing pleasure coursing through his veins as her velvety walls fluttered around him.

Her eyes were closed tight as she rested on top of him, her hips flush against his as her hands rested on his chest for balance. Bradley had never seen a more beautiful sight. Slowly, she rolled her hips against his, breathing ragged as she built a rhythm. Bradley laid against the wood of the dock as he watched her take her pleasure from him, a hand running up her stomach to rest between her breasts. He could die a happy man right then and there.

Her pace grew faster as she approached her climax, whimpers and cries spilling past her lips as she rode him, and Bradley pushed himself into a sitting position, careful to not disturb her. A hand rested on her back as he nuzzled into the space between her breasts where his other hand had just been. The sleeve of her chemise fell off her shoulder, and Bradley lifted his face to nip and lick at the skin there. He could feel his own high approaching as she ground down on him, and his free hand rose up to wrap around her throat, squeezing gently. She froze, hips stopping as they locked eyes. The only sound to be heard between the two of them was their ragged breathing.

For a second, Bradley thought he had crossed the line, but she made no move to remove his hand. The two stared at one another for a long moment before one of her hands came up to rest atop his own, squeezing them lightly as she began to move her hips once more, slower this time, drawing out the inevitable. He groaned at the sensation, feeling his stomach tense as her eyes never left his, her gaze intense as she chased release. Her walls fluttered and tightened around him, and with a final cry, she came, her head thrown back and her hot, wet cunt milking his own orgasm out of him with a shout. His spend coated her walls, leaking out around him as he shuddered and fell back against the dock with eyes pinched closed. Her hips still moved against his, drawing out every ounce of pleasure she could, giving herself to him with every movement.

She was his now, he had marked her.

Her hips finally stilled against his, and he could feel her staring at him. Her fingers trailed up his chest, along his jaw, before finally stilling on his lips. Bradley peeled his eyes open slowly, and he would have sworn he had died and gone to heaven for if he didn’t know any better, he would have thought he was looking at an angel. The setting sun cast a halo around her head as her hair blew in the wind, hypnotic eyes boring into him as the golden glow of the evening enveloped her. His lover smiled down at him softly, fingertips stroking his lips before leaning down to press her own against them.

She didn’t look to the sea much anymore, her longing gazes turned to brief flickers as she went about her days. Still, there were nights when her eyes would glaze over as the sound of seals calling out in the night made their way up to the confines of the house. Bradley would watch as her lips trembled briefly, the look in her eyes growing farther away until suddenly she would snap back to the moment, offering him a loving smile as she continued her mending.

Her stomach began to swell in the autumn months, and Bradley often found himself reluctant to leave her side. He would place a hand on her stomach, eyes lighting up in delight every time he felt a kick to it. He’d rest his head on top of her, muttering sweet words and promises to the babe that grew within. She would rest her hand on his head, stroking his hair soothingly as the fire crackled in front of them.

They were happy.

There was one night, however, when Bradley came back from the village to find his wife no longer at home, and panic overtook him. He tore through the house, ripping open every door he could find until he was faced with a horrifying possibility. He ran outside to the old shack, nearly ripping the door off of its hinges in his haste to open it. His eyes scanned the dark interior, his lantern casting shadows across the walls as he sighed in relief at the realization that his secret was still hidden underneath tarps and old traps.

His brow furrowed as he stepped back out onto the open cliffs, the wind whipping around him as he scanned the dancing grass. His eyes stopped at the edge of the cliff, terror gripping him once more at the thought that his lover might have done the unthinkable. Had she tried to return to the depths from where she came? Her body would not survive the plunge, not without the skin that lay hidden in shadows. He trudged towards the edge of the cliffs, the wind biting his skin and seeping to his bones as his heart thundered in his ears. He peered down at the rocks below, stopping only when a song sounded on the wind.

Little sister, sister hu ru

My love, my sister hu ru

Can you not pity o hol ill eo

My grief tonight hu ru

The voice was beautiful and full of sorrow, cries carried on the wind and out to the sea. Bradley swung the lantern towards the rocky path that led up to the lighthouse, the moon casting ribbons of silver that silhouetted the tall structure.

I am a poor woman hu ru

Sad and miserable hu ru

I climbed up o hol ill eo

Ben Sgrìobain hu ru

Bradley moved quickly through the grass and up the path, the sound of the song growing louder with each step he took. The stone structure stood proud against the backdrop of the sea, the waves crashing against the rocks below, almost drowning out the song as he rounded the walkway, finding his wife standing on the edge of the cliff.

I didn’t find there hu ru

What I wanted hu ru

A girl o hol ill eo

With hair like a daisy hu ru

Tears streamed down her face as he watched her, her hair whipping in the wind as her hands cradled her heavily swollen belly. Her feet were bare, and she wore a thin chemise that did little to protect her from the gusts that enveloped her body. No sobs left her as she finished her song, only the look of someone who had been lost, lost and never found in a world that was not her own. Bradley sucked in a breath, lips pressing firmly together before he stomped towards her. He dropped the lantern at his feet, the flame within dying at the impact as he gripped her shoulders and whirled her around to face him. Her eyes grew wide as his rage flooded to the surface, nostrils flaring and fingers digging into her skin hard enough to leave bruises.

“What were you thinking?” He hissed, shaking her with every accusation. “You scared me half to death! What are you doing out here dressed like this? It’s too cold for you to be out here with nothing to protect you. I thought you had-”

He gestured towards the cliffs, the words dying on his lips as he choked on a sob. The tears sprang to his eyes unexpectedly, rolling down his cheeks as his hands gripped onto her even tighter. If he held on tighter, she would never leave, would never return to the sea, would never leave him. He couldn’t bear the thought of being alone again, not when he had tasted a life that was shared.

She stared at him, eyes wide and searching as the wind danced around them. Her hand slowly reached up to cup his jaw, thumb smoothing over the stubble that grew there.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured, voice almost lost on the wind. She leaned forward, and Bradley lurched back, eyes wide and scared as they watched her. The two stayed like that for a moment before she moved once more, hand holding his face in place as she brushed his nose with hers before pressing her lips to his in a gentle kiss. Tears continued to stream down Bradley’s face as his eyes flickered closed, embracing her as different emotions swirled inside him.

“Never leave me,” he begged in a whisper against her, one hand dropping down to cup her stomach as he rested his forehead against hers. He opened his eyes to find her already looking at him, black water dancing in her gaze.

“Never, mo ghrá.”

Their son was born a month later, loud cries spilling into the night as Bradley waited outside with some of the older men from the village. His head perked up at the first wail, eyes shining with excitement as her screams were replaced by those of the infant. The widow Callahan opened the front door moments later, apron covered in blood as she wiped her hands on a rag.

“You have a son,” she announced with a small smile, and Bradley grinned so hard, he swore his face would split in two. The men around him clasped him on the back, cheers ringing out in the night as they opened up spirits brought with them for the occasion. Bradley was keen to see his wife and son, but one of the men shoved a mug into his hands.

“Have a drink first, lad,” he hollered with a laugh. “The misses and the wean will still be there after.”

Bradley downed the drink as quickly as he could, much to the amusement of the others. He shoved the cup into the hands of the man nearest to him, not waiting for it to be refilled as he made his way into the house. The widow Callahan was cleaning up her supplies along with her apprentice when Bradley entered the room. His wife lay propped up in the bed, a small smile on her face as she cooed at the small bundle in her arms. Her eyes flickered up to his for a moment before back down. He crossed the room, easing down gently beside her on the bed. The babe gurgled, eyes closed as he yawned, and Bradley felt his heart swell.

He reached a hand over to run a finger over his son’s hands, heart dancing in his chest when the babe gripped it, small hand so strong for someone who was only moments old.

“What should we call him?” Bradley asked, cuddling into her side, exhaustion seeping through her.

“I thought we might call him Ronan.”

Bradley paused. The meaning of the name was not lost on him, and his gaze flickered to her profile for a moment before nodding.

“Ronan,” he murmured, eyes turning back to his son, nodding. “Aye. I like it. Ronan it is then.”

The babe gurgled once more, and Bradley reached over to take him in his arms, cooing softly as the bundle fussed.

“We should let your mother rest,” He whispered to the baby, a small smile on his wife’s lips as she nestled into the inviting warmth of the bed, her eyes drooping as she fought to remain awake. “She’s had a long day, don’t you think? It’s not easy bringing someone into the world.”

He tore his eyes away from his son to gaze at her, adoration shining bright as he reached a hand to smooth the hair out of her face.

“We’ll be here when you wake up,” he promised, bouncing the baby lightly as he moved to stand, his eyes already fixated back on the bundle in his arms. Her eyes followed him as he walked towards the door, lips curled into a smile as she slipped further and further into oblivion.

Bradley offered her one last smile as she fell asleep, walking towards the main room and sitting down by the fireplace, the orange glow of the fire bathing the two in the warm light. The men outside still celebrated, and Bradley rolled his eyes, smiling down at his son.

“I wanted to talk to you, man to man,” he started, rocking the baby in his arms. “I can’t guarantee you an easy life, Ronan. In fact, it might be a hard one. What I can promise is that I’ll be by your side as only a father can be for his son.”

Ronan cooed, opening his eyes for the first time to look up at his father, and Bradley’s heart soared.

“You’re born from two worlds, you know,” Bradley continued, a small frown tugging on his lips as he considered what this would mean. “A living bridge between the seen and unseen, but what does that mean for you, I wonder.”

The fire popped as it consumed the wood, the crackling the only thing heard besides the faint sound of Ronan breathing. The men had left to continue their drinking in the village, and soon even the widow Callahan and her apprentice left, bidding him a good night as they did. Bradley said nothing to them in response, eyes trained on the baby in his arms even as the sun rose above the horizon.

Ronan grew quickly, much to Bradley’s surprise, and soon he was toddling around and talking, a smart lad whom Bradley found he never had to instruct more than once, eager to take on the responsibility of being the eldest. Two years after he was born, another bundle joined their home, a boy they named Rían who grew to fill the house with peels of laughter everywhere he went. His wife showed no more signs of longing for the sea, too enamored with her children to pay much mind to the sea which she once called home.

Three years after Rían was born, they welcomed Cillian into their fold, a quiet babe who grew into a curious and bright little boy. Bradley was happy with his life and even prouder of his family. He soon began teaching Ronan how to weave nets for fish and how to fix the traps they used to catch the migrating salmon, and it wasn’t long until Rían joined them. Cillian was too young, staying behind with his mother as the other three made their way out to sea to bring home food for the next day.

Their evenings were spent sitting by the fire, the boys playing with their toy soldiers as their mother worked on her mending, Bradley resting from a hard day’s work as he smoked a pipe, a habit he had picked up to help ease the tension he often felt these days as he grew older. It was on one such evening that Cillian pulled on the skirt of his mother’s dress, eyes so much like hers as they gazed up in curiosity.

“Ma,” he chirped, earning her attention. She smiled down at him, setting down her latest project to give him her full attention.

“What is it, mo mhuirnín?” She asked.

“The people in town say you’re not from here,” he continued, earning the attention of the two other boys and Bradley as well. “If you aren’t from here, then where do you come from?”

The silence was heavy in the room, not a soul moving as the words hung in the air. His mother’s eyes glazed over slowly as she thought about the home she left behind so many years ago. A look Bradley had not seen since before their first son was born made its way onto her face, and his heart began to thunder in his chest. Time seemed to stand still as she considered her words.

“Between the here, between the now. Between the day, between the night. Between the land, between the sea. Between the awake, between the asleep. Between the real, between the myths. That is where I am from,” she told him, a hand coming up to cup his chin gently. In that moment, Bradley remembered the wild that dwelled within his wife, the constant call from within to return back to the sea. He remembered that while he grew older, she remained forever the same, never changing. He remembered the fear that gripped him each night at the thought that she might leave, and rage filled him.

“Enough,” he snapped, drawing all four pairs of eyes to him. Bradley was a kind, easygoing man, not prone to anger, and the sight of him now shocked his children, fear flashing in their eyes at the look of anger that clung to his face.

“I won’t hear another word,” he hissed, grip tight on the pipe in hand. He gestured wildly at his children as they sat, paralyzed with fear. “To bed, all of you!”

They did not need to be told twice, scrambling to their feet as they hurried down the hall, the sounds of doors shutting behind them. Regret filled Bradley almost instantly, but it was not enough to quell the fear that still raged on inside of him. His eyes watched the hall before sliding over to look at his wife. Her head was bowed submissively, an impassive look on her face as she continued her mending, and Bradley settled back into his chair, an air of unease settling in around him.

It was a few weeks later when Bradley had taken the two older boys off that his world turned upside down.

Cillian was a curious boy, too curious for his own good, one might say. He loved to experience the world around him and oftentimes found himself in more trouble than he could handle. His father had warned him to stay away from the old shack that stood by the cliff, telling him that there were things in there that could hurt him if he wasn’t careful. Cillian heeded the warning, but grew more and more curious the longer it remained unexplored. It was for that reason he found himself opening the door, the creeks of the old hinges causing him to turn around to make sure he wasn’t heard. Confident that his actions still remained a secret, he crept into the dark shack, eyes wide as he took in the different trinkets strewn about.

It was nothing of import, mostly old tarps and broken traps his father had not seen fit to fix yet. An old desk sat against the far wall, and as Cillian crept farther and farther into the room, he noticed how more and more things lay stacked atop one another, as if trying to convince him to turn back. There was something that called out to him though, and the need to find what it was became stronger with each passing second. The pull pulsed around him, almost like a heartbeat as he inched closer and closer to the far side of the shack. It wasn’t until he came upon an old chest that the energy suddenly calmed, almost like it disappeared and Cillian reached out his little hands to try and pry the lid open. It did not budge, locked so that prying eyes would not find what was not theirs to seek.

Surely there must be a key? His eyes scanned the area around him, frowning when one couldn’t be found. His gaze landed upon the desk, and he stumbled over the items strewn about as he made a beeline for the lone piece of furniture. His hand reached up to drag the top drawer open, little legs stretching as far as they could to allow him to look inside. There were several keys that lay on the bottom of the drawer, but only one was carved ornately enough to match the old chest. Grinning at his prize, he seized it in his little fist, scrambling back over to the chest.

He let out a giggle as the key slipped easily into the lock, twisting it until a click could be heard. Looking behind him to make sure he was still alone, he lifted the lid of the trunk slowly. He vibrated with excitement at the thought of the treasures he might find, only to be met with the sight of trinkets tossed haphazardly inside. He reached a hand in to rummage through the piles of junk, frowning at the piles of nothing. He was about to close the lid once more when his fingers brushed against something soft, and his breath caught in his throat. He gave it a tug, but the object did not move. Huffing, he wrapped both hands around the object, grunting as he tugged it free from the confines of the trunk. He fell back with the force, landing against an old crate with a thud and a shout. He scowled at the crate, rubbing his backside before turning his attention to the prize at hand.

It was a seal pelt, the silver reminding him of the moonlight that danced through his window at night, the same beams that glittered atop the water of the sea. His hands ran over it, delighting in how soft it felt against his skin, and with a grin, he wrapped it up in his arms and ran out of the shack into the late afternoon sun.

His mother was hanging laundry out to dry, the sheets billowing in the wind as she pushed hair out of her face. Her stomach was swelling once more, just enough to be noticeable through her dress.

“Ma!” He cried out, running to her quick as his little feet could carry him. “Look what I found!”

She smiled down at him, gaze adoring before landing on the item in his hands. Her smile faded, the faraway look from that terrible night when his father had lost his temper returning to her face as she beheld the pelt in his hands.

Bradley and his sons walked up the path, smiling amongst each other as they hurried home, eager to be reunited with their mother and brother. Bradley’s eyes darted up the path, itching for a glimpse of his wife when his eyes landed on the scene unfurling before them. Her hands reached out to the pelt his youngest son held up to her, and his stomach dropped as he blanched.

“No!” He shouted, breaking out into a sprint up the path, but it was too late. Her fingers wrapped around the pelt, and something awakened inside of her, something long thought dead. A grin stretched across her face as she snatched the skin into her arms, letting out a delighted cry as she ran down the path, narrowly avoiding her husband’s arms and past her children. Bradley stopped short, turning on his heels to chase after her, legs pushing as hard as they could in a desperate attempt to catch her, hand reaching out to grab her. He was so close, fingers brushing the ends of her hair, but the call of her nature was stronger than any love he carried for her. She threw the pelt around her shoulders, a laugh leaving her as her feet touched the water, and with a leap into the air, the woman was once more a seal, landing in the water with a quiet plop. Bradley continued after her, feet pushing through the resistance of the sea as he clawed his way forward.

“Come back,” he cried, water up to his waist now. “Come back!”

It was no use, his wife was gone, stolen back by the sea, and tears streamed down his face as he scanned the surface for any sign of her. The water was oddly calm given how frantic he had become, and the despair inside him rose to a fever pitch, released in a guttural cry as he unleashed his anguish for the sea to hear.

“You promised!” He screamed, throat strained with the force of it. He let his face drop into his hands, clawing at the skin of his face as his eyes darted wildly all around like he was a man possessed. Sobs wracked through his body as the reality of what happened settled over him.

“Come back.”

Bradley was not the man he once was, and he would never be again. The house felt cold and empty with his wife gone, and he could not find it in him to do much of anything. Numbness filled his bones, the sorrow of losing that which he loved too much for his mind to bear. Most days were spent along the shore, desperate eyes searching for any sign of his wife before one of his children was able to coax him back to the house, usually well after the sun had disappeared below the horizon.

He didn’t eat much, sullen gaze turned down towards his plate, but never eating more than a mouthful or two of whatever was placed in front of him. His face grew gaunt as the weeks turned to months, dark circles growing under his eyes.

A house that was once filled with laughter now served as a tomb, the once happy memories enshrined within its four walls. The children no longer laughed, no longer played. The love of their mother was no longer there to keep them warm. Few words were uttered amongst each other, and no one was quite able to meet the eyes of another.

Utensils scraped against each other, not a word spoken as all eyes remained cast downward.

“I saw a seal today,” Rían whispered, jumping as the sound of metal dropped against a plate. Bradley’s eyes bored into his son, a haunted look on his face as he turned to him.

“What did you say?” He asked, leaning forward, tears gathering in his eyes. Rían stared at his father before casting a nervous glance to Ronan. Bradley pushed out of his chair, kneeling in front of his son as his hand gripped his shoulders painfully. Rían whimpered, trying to get out of his father’s grasp.

“Where did you see it?” Bradley rasped, voice croaking from under use. His nails dug into the boy’s skin, a pained cry spilling out of Rían’s lips. Ronan scrambled up out of his seat, hand wrapping around his father’s arms to try and pull him away from his brother.

“Tell me where you saw it!” Bradley shouted, shaking the boy roughly, eyes wild and unseeing.

“Da please!” Ronan hollered, pulling with all his might, and Bradley’s grip loosened, sending Rían flying back into his chair with a cry. Tears streamed down his face as he stared at his father, limbs trembling from fear. Bradley’s eyes focused, seeing his son for the first time in that moment.

“Rían,” he whispered, eyes darting around to look at the other two. Cillian sat on the opposite side of Rían, tears streaming down his own face as his bottom lip trembled in terror. Ronan stood behind him, face unreadable as stone as he watched his father.

“I’m,” Bradley breathed, stumbling to his feet as he ran a hand through his hair. “I’m so sorry.”

He didn’t wait for a response, exiting the room in a hurry.

The next day had them returning to their new normal. Ronan took charge of the fishing, bringing home what he could, which was just enough to keep everyone fed. Rían had taken up the housework in the absence of their mother, Cillian helping where he could at his young age.

Bradley’s days were spent at the shore, watching and waiting for a love that would never return to him. His thoughts often turned to the happier memories, of days spent in her embrace, the feel of her lips against his, the way she smiled at him. He longed for it. Longed for the time when he didn’t feel so alone, so listless.

The children had changed in the months since their mother left as well.

Ronan had taken up the mantle of provider, taking what he could to the village to barter and trade, but few would do dealings with someone who was not wholly human, mistrustful eyes that had once been focused on his mother now turned to him with disdain.

Rían’s once bright laughter was now nothing but a memory, something thought about only in passing now as he worked his way through the chores that needed doing. He slowly forgot how it felt to smile.

Cillian, who had once been the most inquisitive of the bunch, now never strayed far from his brothers, never moving far from sight. He did only as he was told, and his brothers started to wonder if he ever used to talk at all.

Much like every other night, it was Ronan who bade his father to return to the house once the sun set, frost hanging in the air now that winter was upon them. Bradley allowed himself to be pulled back to their home, head hung low as he trudged up the path behind his son. He sat in his chair by the fire, hand stretched out to hold someone who was not there as he stared into the flames, eyes unseeing, and his children wondered if they would forever see the unseen.

One by one, the boys left for bed, Ronan being the last to bid his father a goodnight, a frown tugging on his lips before shaking his head and disappearing around the corner.

Bradley sat motionless as the minutes turned to hours, still as a statue as he continued to mourn.

A knock sounded at the door, and he shifted in his seat. Another knock had his head turning in that direction. Who would be calling at that time of night? Slowly, he rose from his chair, walking towards the front door. He grasped the handle, twisting it and pulling it open.

The night was dark, the moon, which normally cast light onto the path that led down to the beach, was hidden behind the clouds. Bradley stared into the night, unfeeling and unmoving. He moved to close the door when a song rang out, the voice so alarmingly familiar.

Hò i hò i hì o hò i Hò i hò i hì o hì Hò i hò i hì o hò i Cha robh mi m' ònar a-raoir

'S mairg san tìr seo, 's mairg san tìr 'G ithe dhaoine 'n riochd a bhìdh Nach fhaic sibh ceannard an t-sluaigh Goil air teine gu cruaidh cruinn

His eyes alighted in recognition, tearing out of the house and onto the path as fast as his feet could carry him. The voice grew no closer as he ran, breaths coming out ragged as he gulped for air. The waves crashed against the shoreline as loud as thunder but never drowning out the voice he had longed to hear.

Hò i hò i hì o hò i Hò i hò i hì o hì Hò i hò i hì o hò i Cha robh mi m' ònar a-raoir

'S mise nighean Aoidh mhic Eòghainn Gum b' eòlach mi mu na sgeirean Gur mairg a dhèanadh mo bhualadh Bean uasal mi o thìr eile

He stopped, spinning wildly in search of her, crying out in frustration when he saw no one. A scream ripped its way through him, desperate and haggard as he continued to spin, only stopping when he caught sight of something on the dock. The same dock he and his lover had spent countless afternoons on, basking in the glow of each other and sharing stolen touches. He walked slowly towards it, boots crunching in the sand and then knocking against the wood as he came to the end of the dock. His eyes glistened with unshed tears as he kneeled down beside the small bundle.

Hò i hò i hì o hò i Hò i hò i hì o hì Hò i hò i hì o hò i Cha robh mi m' ònar a-raoir

Thig an smeòrach, thig an druid Thig gach eun a dh'ionnsaigh nid Thig am bradan thar a' chuain Gu Là Luain cha ghluaisear mis'

His hands reached out, stopping when the bundle moved, a gurgle sounding. His heart skipped a beat, the cold seeping through him in the winter’s night. It was then that the clouds moved, allowing the moon to shed light down on where Bradley crouched.

It was often said that Cillian was the son that bore the largest resemblance to his mother, but gazing at the babe in front of him, Bradley knew that this was the child his wife carried before she left. His hands crossed the distance to pick her up, hands gentle as he cooed down at her. He was struck then by the discovery that she was wrapped in silvery grey fur, the same size as a seal pup.

The baby let out a tiny cry, and Bradley shushed her softly, rocking her gently. He and his wife had discussed different names before that fateful day, but only one stuck out to him as he gazed at the babe in his arms.

“Aisling,” he whispered reverently, holding her tighter to his chest as tears streamed down his face. Aisling let out another cry as Bradley moved to stand, never taking his eyes off of her.

“‘s alright now,” he cooed, turning back towards the house. “Your da is here now, mo stóirín.”

His fingers wrapped around the fur with a frown. The small bundle in his arms would never leave him, not like her mother had. He would see to it this time.

Hò i hò i hì o hò i Hò i hò i hì o hì Hò i hò i hì o hò i Cha robh mi m' ònar a-raoir

A/N: I kid y'all not, this fic has been on my mind for MONTHS ever since someone suggested it. Selkies have always been one of my favorite stories from Celtic legends, and I really hope I did this justice because it was such a pleasure to write and pour my heart and soul into. I highly recommend you check out the stories if you have time because a lot of the inspiration for this fic came from them!

Another quick note as I wrap up here, I wanted to touch on the meaning of the names I chose. Ronan actually translates to "seal" or "oath, promise." Rían (pronounced Ree-on) means "king" or "ocean" depending on the etymology. Cillian (pronounced kill-ian) means "war, strife." Finally, Aisling (pronounced Ash-ling) means "dream, vision."

The first song I actually looked up the English translation, but it's a song sung by a woman who was stolen by the fae, calling out for her sister to come and help her. I thought it would be interesting to see it used in the reverse. The second song is actually one said to be sung by the selkies themselves, very fitting for this fic, I think.

Thank you all so much for reading this one! As always, reblogs and comments are appreciated. You can also find me on AO3 under sailor_aviator. Until next time!

[joonsy2k]

★ pairings - Jimin x Fem!Reader

★ genre - smut , fluff.

★ summary - You were always told tales of a being that watched over you while you slept, you never knew that this being had an infatuation with you and would one day visit you in your dreams.

★ warnings - Dom!Jimin, Sub!Reader, somnophilia ( kind of ig ), Jimin being obsessive, dirty talk, lotta praise, use of angel, fingering, p in v, unprotected sex ( don't be silly wrap your willy ), riding, not proof read, spelling mistakes ( i'm dyslexic )

Jimin had been watching you ever since he could remember. He would frequently stand in the dark shadows of your room, watching as you drifted into peaceful slumbers that he had granted to you. Sometimes, he even dared to venture into the deepest parts of your mind, into your dreams.

He never got too close, it wasn't his place to interfere in your dreams but from afar he would add his own touch to your dreams, add things that would make you smile, and he always kept the nightmares away.

That was his job, to protect you from all the things that could possibly hurt you, wether it was in a dream state or not,

One day though, he ventured too far. He came too close to you.

When you were younger your mother had told you stories of a being who watched over everyone as they slept, a being who protected people from their own minds horrors. She called him the sandman.

It was a comfort to you when you were a child but as you grew older it began to sound like an old wives tale and your belief in the sandman dimished to just a story your mother told you to help you sleep at night.

Until one cold night when you were older, tucked up in your bed as you drifted into an uneasy sleep. Pictures of dark figures haunted your mind that night, watching you from dark corners of your apartment, you had felt the world closing in on you but you were pulled out, stolen a way by what you thought was a guardian angel.

The images plaguing your mind were wiped away with one swipe of your guardian angels hand and were replaced by bright walls, soft carpeted floors and a window where the moon shone onto the silk bedspread. It was your childhood home, your safeplace where you could be free from the horrors of the world.

Your guardian angel laid you down and tucked you in, tender fingers brushed over the loose strands of hair covering your pale face, the gentleness felt so real. You knew you were in a dream but some part of you wished and prayed that this was real, that this was happening.

"I'll always be here to protect you, my angel." The voice sounded distant. You felt a pair of soft lips press against your forehead and as you opened your eyes you were met with the sight of your dreary bedroom back in your lonely apartment, you were alone but you could still feel the ghost like feeling of soft lips on your temple.

You knew then, the sandman was not just a story from you were little. He was real and you knew, he was always watching over you.

The subway was full but what did you expect? Coming home this late at night it was bound to be full of drunkards and business men on their way home from their late working jobs.

And then there was you, coming home from a horrific blind date that your friend had set you up on. You thought this one would be different but once again, you were wrong.

You had at least expected to get something out of the date. Maybe you would bring the guy home, you'd fool around and then in the morning he would leave like nothing had ever happened but no, your friend had set you up with some low class lawyer who couldn't take his eyes off of your waitress's ass.

So, you had make up an excuse to leave early and now here you were, tugging down your low cut dress to hide your ass from peering drunkards, you were not that desperate.

The train ride home felt like hours long but eventually you were trudging up the lobby stairs to your shitty one bedroom apartment.

You kicked off your shoes as soon as you were inside and headed straight to your bedroom, well not before leaving a small bowl of milk by your living room window for the stray cat that visited every night.

After changing into your night clothes you laid on your bed, legs spread and laptop at the ready. If some blind date wasn't going to satisfy you, you were sure going to satisfy yourself.

You scrolled and scrolled until you found the perfecr vidoe, pressing play and slipping your hands into your pants. The sound of moans and groans filled your room and you pumped one finger in and out of you slowly..

But it wasn't enough even as you neared your orgasm you felt a pit in your stomach and it wasn't the good kind. Your ending was not a happy one and with an exsaperated sigh you shut down your laptop and burried under duvet, core still throbbing with an unfinished arrival.

You tossed and turned in your bed, peaceful sleep was so far but eventually your mind went blank and you were shrouded by darkness, sleeping at last.

Jimin thought you looked so angelic as you slept, he couldn't help but sit beside you, hand running down the curves of your hip.

He had watched you struggle to reach your climax but he was here now, Jimin knew that he was the only one who could satisfy your needs. He was the only one who could look after you and it pained him to see that you felt the need to chase after men who would never be what you needed.

You stirred in your sleep when his hands reached the waistline of your trousers, your eyes fluttering open to be greeted with a smiling Jimin, his eyes crinkling upwards.

Launching backwards caused him to land on his knees on your lumpy matress, hand coming forward to caress your cheek.

"Hey, don't be scared, It's me, just trying to look after you, angel." His touch felt so familiar, so comforting and so right. His fingers snuck into your panties, dancing over your wet folds "Told you i would always look after you, didn't I?"

With widened eyes, you finally recognised the face in front of you, you didn't know his name but you knew that this was the man, or being, who had saved you from that terrible nightmare years ago. The one who had soothed you back to sleep with a simple kiss, the man whose hands were now rubbing gently and your delicate clit.

Slowly, you relaxed under his fingers "There you go, you remember now, don't you?" Jimin grinned, he knew you felt safe with him, he could tell by the way you shuddered at his touch and the way you didn't fight to move his hand, you were enjoying this.

"How does that feel?" He questioned, fingers speeding up to rub circular patterns on your clit as his free hand rubbed the side of your face.

"Feels so good.." You muttered, the question of asking his name hanging off of your tongue.

"Jimin." The man in question answered.

His face moved closer to yours, lips trapping yours in a sweet kiss. He tasted oddly like you expected the night would taste, you couldn't fully describe it but it felt like a thousand stars were dancing on your lips that caused your mind to go hazy.

With his teeth enveloping your bottom lip with a small nip, your back arched, stomach swirling with butterflies. You squirmed under Jimin's touch.

"Uh uh, stay still for me, angel." The once soothing grip on your hip was now replaced by Jimin's firm grip, holding your hip in place to stop you from squirming "Don't cum just yet, ok."

You whined aloud when his fingers slipped out of your panties, leaving you feeling awfully cold and tense without the release you were so close to, it made him chuckle to see how desperate he made you feel.

He crawled on top of you. His midnight hair fell over his face covering those dark eyes that you swore were full of stars glinting in the moon light from your window, with one swift motion he had grabbed your wrist and moved it over to his erection, he moved your hand to rub over his pants.

"You feel that?" He let out a soft sigh at your touch "That's all for you, all for my angel." His words made you weak and you fumbled to undo the buttons of his jeans, the zipper slipping out of your hands.

A sweet laughter filled your ears, the dark haired boy moved to pin your wrists above your head, thumb rubbing at the soft skin. His free hand pulled down his own zipper in one swift motion, pulling his pants down and throwing them to some forgotten corner of your room. Then, he did the same with his shirt and then your clothes were thrown away.

"Please, need you." He stroked the tip of his cock against your sensitive clit, teasing you before his hands laced into yours and his hips thrust to bury himself deep inside of you with a small hiss.

You shuffled underneath him. He was bigger than you expected and your walls strechted to accomodate his size. It took you a moment but his slow thrusts soon helped you to adjust.

His lips met yours again, he moaned into your mouth, tongue swiping at your lower lip.

Your mouth fell open in a soft moan as he gripped your hips "Been waiting to fuck you for so long." Jimin mumbled almost breathlessly.

His thrusts were painfully slow and you pulled away from his lips, head falling backwards onto your pillow "Too slow, faster, please Jimin, please."

You felt the tip of his cock nudge at your g-spot, his lips curving to a smile that you felt on your, his tongue darting out to lick a small stripe up to his ear where he whispered "So desperate for me," his hips snapped forward, pushing your legs up to your chest allowed his thrusts to speed up considerably "No one else can fuck you like this, can they?" His jaw clenched.

Your lack of an answer must have annoyed him because he delivered a harsh slap to your ass that caused you to whine "You're the only one who can fuck me like this," your back arched as he continuesly hit your g-spot.

"That's it," Jimin reached down to between your legs, rubbing at your clit again. Your core clenched around him, eyes watering. You could feel that so familiar knot begin to build up in your stomach and clearly Jimin sensed it too "You close, angel? cum for me, c'mon."

Your body trembled as your orgasm washed over, fingers tangling into Jimin's hair, biting down hard on your bottom lip. You were surprised that you didn't draw blood.

Jimin's thrusts started to falter and it was apparent that he was also close and soon enough he spilt his seed inside of you, his head dropping into the crook of your neck with a shaky breath "Fuck." He muttered.

For a while you both stayed there, wrapped in each others arms until you felt your eyelids become heavy, you let out a yawn and Jimin rose from his position.

Jimin grabbed your bed covers, tucking them up beneath chin, he stroked your hair from your face and for the second time in your life, pressed his lips against the temple of your head.

"I will always look after you," he mumbled to your sleeping form "my angel." and with that.. he was gone

You woke up from your dream state with the feeling of his lips still on your forehead just like before.

Jimin was gone for now but you knew, you would see him again.

[pine-rhyme]

Pine I’m going insane please clear something up about tlt

I keep seeing art of two(?) v similar looking people, one with short hair and another with pigtails and I’ve seen both being referred to as Harrow or Nona or similar. I thought they were the same person (with Nona being a nickname of Harrowharks family name) but I saw some art that’d imply they’re two different people???

I always interpreted it as ‘Nona is what Harrow would be without the Horrors’ since she’s v cheerful. Like a sort of collective fandom oc. But now I think that’s wrong. Pls advise T^T

(Also hiiiiiiii hope you’re having a nice day ೕ(•̀ᴗ•́) )

OMG THANK YOU I AM SO GLAD I GET TO EXPLAIN THIS TO YOU BECAUSE THIS IS GENUIENLY MY FAVOURITE THING OUT OF THIS SERIES!!!!!

That and the wild contrast between Harrowhark and Nona makes me giggle maniacally every time.

Here is some sketchy art and rambling under the cut because I LOVE LOVE LOVE NONA!!!! And by extension the book she stars in!

Nona is a real character! But very well pointed that her name derives from Harrow's NONAgesimus! She is the narrator and main lady of the 3rd book (Nona the Ninth :DDD).

The thing about Harrow and Nona is that yes! They share the same body! Harrow is such a haunted character that it is already ridiculous how many other ghosts could take over her body if she falls unconscious (which already happened a few times and ngl it was very sexy).

But this time, in Nona's case it is unclear if it is one of her many ghosts piloting her body or if it is really Harrow whose trauma caught up with her and got her brain reset (you already know it wouldn't be her first rodeo given that she already has had the lobotomy experience :)) but the thing is, Nona can't remember a thing from before she got saved by Harrow's... friends? Acquaintances? People that owned her a favour?

The beautiful thing is that you have this vulnerable person, who doesn't know anything about herself is getting taken care of by these people that? Genuinely cared about the old Harrow? And are actively trying to figure out who Nona actually is. And how she can be helped. All we know is that Nona is uncharacteristically kind and sweet-natured for the tlt world :)))

She is deeply aware that she is unlikely to survive for much longer and experiences everything around her with a deep sense of wonder. She has only been alive for 6 months and it was a gift. The world is slowly crumbling around her and her body is slowly dying but she loves the people that take care of her nevertheless. She looks in the mirror and finds herself truly beautiful and she is openly grateful for the girl who let her borrow her body to experience this life. It is a bittersweet story and a very big tonal shift from the intense and alienating POV of the previous book (Harrow the Ninth), focusing more on the domesticity and closure nurtured in a wartorn refugee camp, between unlikely characters.

AND IT IS JUST HILLARIOUS to encounter characters with whom Harrow has been AT LEAST highly disagreeable, getting absolutely showered in affection by Nona. Nona herself being so full of love and admiration for everything and everyone she meets is just amazing when you remember that's HARROW'S body she's piloting. Harrow who is easily the most people-allergic character out of this whole series lmao. AND NONA IS WEARING HER HAIR LONG AND BRAIDED! AND PARADES AROUND IN THE MOST INSANE GRAPHIC T-SHIRTS. SHE WANTS TO DYE HER HAIR ELECTRIC BLUE LIKE HER CRUSH!

I absolutely love Nona she is my favourite character in this series. It is because of her that Harrow started to grow on me as well. It is just wonderful to find, after how distressed and alone Harrow is during the 2nd book, she has people that would go to such lengths to care for her, despite the fact that she lost her necromacy, genius and aptitudes, along with her memories and, in fact her body might be the only thing that remained out of her because, by the end, Nona might indeed be somebody else entirely.

More than that it is a story about a girl with no past and no future loving unconditionally and getting unconditionally loved in return by her friends and family. Even when it gets very complicated and twisted and at times you are forced to question what is everybody's hidden intentions or what is the meaning of it all. It is just as grim (and upsetting at times) as the rest of the series but having for once an optimistic pov (even tho it comes with her forcing herself to suppress her ugly feelings because her life is very short and she needs to enjoy everything while it lasts) feels almost like a fever dream.

"Life is too short and love is too long."

(This is Nona with Pyrrha! Pyrrha loves Nona so much it makes me sick to my stomach and I could talk for hours on end about them. )

Thank you so much for this ask and for indulging me in my madness!!!!!!! MMMMWAH!

[drezendragon]

V to UV Art by DonnyK9 Murder Drones AU Idea Rambling Alright this is a “Drezen Ramble” I watched Murder Drones as it was coming out and after the last episode had an idea for a AU that then spiraled out of control a bit. It took a long time to finally find someone to draw some stuff for it and hopefully I can find more people to comm stuff for this but here we go. Should probably note I copy pasted most of this from a conversation I had with a bud so sorry if it comes off as nonsense XD

Context: this idea was inspired by the last few episodes where we find out “Effective Drones were cloned more” and Cyn’s comment that N’s Team always surprised her along with the fact V was willing to make a deal with the solver and that V’s persona kind of a mask to deal with the horrors. 

Most of this little story would take place on a different world probably a few years before Copper 9 and the main plot. I mean the solver had to get through Copper's 1 to 8 after all plenty of space to fill so assume it takes place on one of those many outings. 

Basically this AU would center around a different V who went with a different persona to mask behind instead of canon V this AU V takes up the persona of a "Tomboy" (+ a little shonen protagism) this Persona of V basically sets out to try and make sure this Squad is a proper Team and not barely functional mess... Basically She and N use “Democracy” to vote out J as leader and put V in charge who then actually raises team efficiency (much to J's annoyance) by basically doing all she can to be N and J's friend attempting to give them both therapy while mediating their clash of Extrovert and Introvert. N she actually deals with the fact his brain is wiped although basically spoon feds him info (basically tells him the mansion stuff but not the Gala incident) and also kind of gently shuts down his crush on her because she can't really remember what it was like to be the Girl N fell for and she thinks he deserves someone who can take all the love he has in his big dumb heart (She does promise to wingman for him though if they ever find someone who meets his fancy). Becoming friends with J was a lot harder. The girl has so many walls up she basically lives in a mental fortress but together they actually get their job done much faster and making N less annoying for J to deal with they become actual friends.

The Team did so well they actually finished the job with a year to spare which they spent further bonding and talking about what they might do after..... then Cyn and the other J show up. The Team freaked out but they did their job and they did it well and V hopes that this means the deal she made of "Leave us in Peace" will be upheld which Cyn says it will... as she proceeds to rip one of V's arms off. This of course freaks them out and Cyn clarifies it is holding up its end of the deal to "Leave them in P-I-E-C-E giggle" in fact she is so happy with them she is extending the deal to "Pieces"  isn't she the best boss (Happy Sarcastic Tone) the Team panics and tries to fight back but doing so causes Cyn to kill N (guess he didn't want to be left in Pieces oh well hopefully the next back up is more of a team player) J (Team) fights J (Solver's Pet) kind of messes up the “Solver's Pet” to see herself fight back choosing her Team over Corporate... but she too goes down once Cyn gets bored with the resistance and uses Admin permissions to lock up the Team has her pet J finish off the other J and then Cyn takes time ripping V into pieces removing her arms, peg legs, smashing her visor face and shredding her voice box after V tries to curse her out/ scream to just annoy Cyn. In the end V is left just a torso with her upper leg stumps still attached, a smashed face and something that shouldn't be called a voice and due to Cyn being Admin she won't be regenerating. Cyn eats the planet but makes sure to leave the chunk with V and her team’s remains as untouched as she can after all would be rude to not let V keep her reward.

Cyn eventually leaves for the next planet and V is just kind of left she can't see or hear anything only feel the wind but even that eventually fads and she is left alone with her thoughts for a very long time.... until something finds her something finds a broken doll discarded by a cruel "god" V is not sure if she has gone mad but she tries to call out and whatever it is doesn't retreat from her distorted cries instead it seems to try and comfort her and she feels herself being gently picked up so long since she last felt kindness that she drifts off to sleep. When she wakes up she has been repaired.... mostly it seems whoever repaired her used the parts of her team leaving her with N's lower legs, J's voice box patching up her own (Basically she doesn’t sound like V or J her voice is either deeper or growly-raspy sounding), no idea whose arms she has since they all look so similar but her upper arms seem to be new parts, seemingly J’s unbound hair, no stinger tail and when she looks into a mirror she sees her eyes are now basically the color of UV lights and on closer inspection she swears she sees more eyes beneath her visor but before the panic of whatever that is about set in she notices another addition of…. Animal Ears in place of her Headband eyes with said ears expressing her current mood before twitching as she hears someone in the next room and with checking herself over done she leaves out the room to whatever awaits her next.

Notes:

She is nicknamed "UV" because of her eyes she never actually introduces herself to the person who put her back together so “UV” is just what they call her until she either introduces herself or picks out a name for herself.

Her lights were changed from yellow to purple by the person who put her back together both as a side effect of some of the alterations made when repairing her and also so that she hopefully wouldn’t freak out when seeing yellow drone eyes looking back at her when she looks in a mirror.

She is the admin of her own system Cyn’s Admin rights were replaced but despite that UV was unable to regenerate which is why she was repaired with available parts. The current status of her solver is UV has admin rights but the solver does not seem to work in any capacity. 

She can't use her arm weapons so has to carry actual weapons which after finding some Disassembly Drone arms with their Swords sticking out she takes the blades to make into actual swords she can wield. She also can’t use her wings anymore.

Her body has a few upgrades beyond the patch job repair due to the person who repaired her getting hit with inspiration while examining her but they stopped themselves from going overboard as they acknowledge UV is a person and any alterations should really be of her choice… granted this person also looked through her memories just to make sure they weren’t repairing a psycho.

Upgrades and modifications she now has are: Her new upper arm parts compensate for her lack of wings since they allow her arms to extend (Think Reg’s arms from Made in Abyss), her visor she can now customize things like the type or eye brows she has when she expresses along with a range of other options to help her be who she wants to be, She can eat human food being no longer reliant on oil but she can still eat it and other drone foods if she has to and probably a few other features relating to her new visor and ears that she didn’t bother to ask about once the shock of being rebuilt started to wear off.

Having her Teammates limbs attached to her has had a bit of an effect on her psyche causing her to take up some of their personality traits on top of her Tomboy Persona leading her to be more Chipper like N but also making her call the person who fixed her up "Boss" (thankfully she is spared using the mountain of corporate jargon that J does)

She has a lot of mental grief, having survivors guilt and refusing to get any further upgrades or better repairs to desperately hold onto what she has left of her friends which sometimes leads to her hallucinating them when alone or stressed out.

Character Inspirations: Murder Drones's V: Eldritch Robo, Fake it till you make it, Cloned Traumatized Killed Cloned again, Sacrifice her own happiness for her friends.

Fate's Mordred: Knight of Rebellion, Artificial Being Cloned from another, Tomboy, Traumatized but kind of dealing with it.

Underverse's Cross:  Quotes "Am I evil for what I did? Am I evil for what I am?" " What's the point of feeling useful and valid in a reality plagued by thousands of us...?" "Yes, our origin is an imitation... ready-made from another. But...our pride, our experiences... Maybe they make us authentic." Scrapnik Mecha Sonic: Haunted by the fight that left them in pieces, Shadow of their “maker” looming over them, feels like a misshapen thing with scraps for limbs, surprisingly dangerous for their current state of repair. 

[maverick-werewolf]

Daily Werewolf Thoughts - Days 1-9

I've been writing some daily werewolf thoughts in various places, and now, at last, here's a collection of them for Werewolf Wednesday! I'll be posting collections on my Patreon and Tumblr, since I don't want to spam those every day for such short posts. Here's the first set from days one through nine.

The formatting on these isn't the prettiest, but it'll do! They're not big blog posts, just thoughts for fun and stuff.

Day 1- I'm obligated to open with the undeniable importance of The Wolf Man (1941). Werewolves never had a definitive book that shaped the popular perception of werewolves. The Wolf Man, although a film, is to werewolves what Bram Stoker's Dracula is to vampires. When you think of "a werewolf," it was influenced at least in some way by The Wolf Man.

Influenced by folklore but taking elements from various sources (not just werewolf legends), Curt Siodmak created the werewolf that currently lives in our perceptions as THE werewolf. The Halloween werewolf, the classic horror werewolf... and still the coolest kind of werewolf.

Great film, by the way. You should watch it. It's free on the Internet Archive, so you have no excuse. It's still one of the best werewolf stories ever told. Classic. There's a reason everyone ripped off the formula.

Also, there's a Werewolf Fact for this: https://maverickwerewolf.com/werewolf-fact-68-the-importance-of-the-wolf-man-1941/

Day 2- There's great variety in werewolf designs out there, but I've noticed the most classic werewolf look has a body hair pattern and lacks fur on the face. Everything from Halloween masks to films to cutesy plush use this as the most immediately recognizable werewolf look, no doubt inspired by classic wolf-men like Werewolf of London (1935), The Wolf Man (1941), and Curse of the Werewolf (1961).

I went through a phase of being adamant about preferring werewolf completely covered in fur, but I realized that, even when I was a contrarian child and then teenager, my favorites never actually looked like that. Then again, I like an insane variety, to be honest, so I'm not that picky... as long as it looks like both a human and a wolf instead of neither of those things or something completely different.

Day 3- Something many modern werewolves lack, or did for a while (I think the phase is ending, puns intended), was the howl. A wolf howl is a unique and chilling sound that has haunted the psyche of man for time immemorial. It's an obvious element of werewolf horror and werewolves in general.

But sometime in the early 2010s or so, a lot of people decided that howls were "corny" and too expected because that was around the time anything classic/traditional became just terrible and everyone wanted to disassociate werewolves from... wolves. So werewolves started exclusively roaring or, at best, weirdly bellowing instead. This can be found in everything from Underworld (undoubtedly a huge influence on this) to Skyrim* to the MTV Teen Wolf series and many others. I'll never forget a pivotal scene in a late Teen Wolf season where Scott was told to howl and he just... roars. Wtf? Everything did this at the time.

Sidebar: The MTV Teen Wolf series absolutely shocked me when it first released. I watched it fully expecting it to be teen werewolf tripe, but Season 1 really is fantastic werewolf horror. Just do NOT watch any season beyond the first one. Everything past Season 1 is total garbage with only a few cool moments in like one of the season 4's (I forget all the numbers) and is much more what I expected from the series. Note that the linked clip is not from season 1.

*: just another reason why Morrowind: Bloodmoon is superior

Underworld: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v-JtvyLvSlo&abchannel=Movieclips

Skyrim: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pXwkSA2_02o&ab_channel=Servilius

Teen Wolf: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pWjJME4Vl3A&ab_channel=coolghighi

Day 4- Silver. The idea of a "silver bullet" has become all but ubiquitous for something's only weakness, like saying "Achilles' heel." Obviously, this originated with werewolves... and again it actually originated only with The Wolf Man (1941). Silver was never a werewolf weakness in legend.

Curt Siodmak, when dictating to the world what werewolf concepts would be like forever after, created the idea that only silver can slay a werewolf. In legend, werewolves had no particular weaknesses, unlike vampires. They could walk holy ground, holy artifacts had no effect on them, wolfsbane and belladonna did nothing in particular, some were immune to all forms of injury (except in human form) and had to be cured, silver certainly was never mentioned, and some were slain through ordinary means.

It's possible that Siodmak got the idea of silver harming werewolves from "witch-creatures," shapeshifted witches. In some tales, witches were harmed specifically by silver. This had no relation to werewolves whatsoever. Other speculate Siodmak did this because silver is related to the moon in ancient alchemy. Regardless of why he did it, werewolves being slain by silver specifically begins with The Wolf Man in 1941.

I should note that some dispute this, citing the Beast of Gevaudan legend (which in itself I don't even really consider a werewolf legend) and claiming that silver was used to slay it, as told in Henri Pourrat’s Historie fidèle de la bête en Gévaudan. But this book is not from the time period of the Beast of Gevaudan - it's a novel published in 1946, well after The Wolf Man was released and established.

Curt Siodmak is the reason we associate werewolves with "silver bullets" (although it was a silver-headed cane that slew the werewolf in the movie), so you can thank him again for his massive influence on our culture abroad and certainly our now classic conception of the werewolf.

There's also a werewolf fact for this: https://maverickwerewolf.com/werewolf-facts/silver/

Day 5- I love etymology. My favorite word is "werewolf." Today, it's common to see people shunning the word "werewolf," thinking it corny, or else they do so in favor of shorthand or other general word butchery or kreatyvity. Before I get into that, I'm going to go over what "werewolf" actually means.

“Werewolf” comes from late Old English, a combination of “were,” meaning “man,” and of course “wolf.” Werewolves have had countless names over the centuries, but this is the one that stuck, after its first use (that we know of, at least) by the English King Cnut, who reigned 1016-1035; he used it in his Ecclesiastical Ordinances XXVI. By the way, please ignore any modern scholars who like to claim now that "werewolf" means "wolfwolf," because that is so preposterous it makes me want to cast myself into the sea with stones on my feet.

Unfortunately, a lot of people like to avoid even using the word "werewolf" as if their success depends on it. They have what is obviously a werewolf in a story, but it's very carefully never referred to as such, because then - in their minds - audiences wouldn't take it seriously. Thus, we end up with things like "lycan," a butchery of "lycanthrope" that takes the "lykos" (meaning wolf) and only the beginning of the "anthropos" (meaning man). You end up with a nothing word that sounds like something green growing on a log. Many people also use only the "were" prefix, which means "man," and thus you have things like "weretouched" (Mantouched? How does it even imply shapeshifting?) to mean a variety of beast-people*. Still others use a word they made up just so they never have to say "werewolf," like "worgen" or "blutbad/blutbaden" or even just "wolfblood/wolfbloods," among others. These may or may not be used in a world that otherwise uses normal terms; if it does use other ordinary monster names, it makes the kreatyv werewolf name all the sillier-sounding.

Anyway, "werewolf" is a great word. More people should use it. A rose by any other name...

*: I won't get into how I feel about "werecreatures" being a bunch of werewolf spinoffs, although I may end up ranting about that sometime this month.

Day 6- Werewolves and the full moon always go together. A werewolf without a full moon just doesn't have quite the same ring to it. This is, you guessed it, yet another thing you can thank Curt Siodmak for - but it actually didn't originate with The Wolf Man (1941), and it also has some basis in legend. Or, at least, I would argue it does.

Firstly, The Wolf Man (1941) actually didn't start the idea of a werewolf transforming at the full moon. In the original film, we have this werewolf rhyme (written by Siodmak)...

"Even a man who is pure at heart

And says his prayers by night

May become a wolf when the wolfsbane blooms

And the autumn moon is bright"

Hence, the werewolf turns in autumn when the wolfsbane blooms.

However, in Frankenstein Meets the Wolf Man (1943), Siodmak changed the rhyme and the timing of the werewolf's transformation...

"Even a man who is pure at heart

And says his prayers by night

May become a wolf when the wolfsbane blooms

And the moon is full and bright"

So, now it's every full moon.

I've seen some scholars argue there is no basis in folklore for the full moon werewolf myth, but I dispute that. Sabine Baring-Gould specifically mentions in The Book of Werewolves (you can buy a fully edited, translated, formatted, and footnoted copy of that by yours truly, btw) that many southern regions of France believed werewolf turned on the full moon even well into the 1800s. He mentions that "men transformed into wolves at the full moon. The desire to run comes upon them at night."

Likewise, there's a potential moon connection as far back as Niceros's tale, as retold by Petronius in The Satyricon, though it exists in other and older forms told by other writers. It's an oft-cited werewolf story that mentions "the Moon shone brought as day" when a man turns into a wolf, though there's no obvious description of the moonlight itself being some kind of trigger or necessity for the magic. It did, however, let Niceros witness the transformation and become mentally scarred by it.

That was lengthy. Anyway, I love the full moon and werewolves. I also love werewolves and silver, even if that wasn't in folklore, but Baring-Gould alone does tell me that I think there was indeed basis in folklore for the connection between werewolves and the full moon.

Also, there's a Werewolf Fact for this, if old and not the best written: https://maverickwerewolf.com/werewolf-facts/full-moon/

Day 7- What do you think of as the "typical werewolf color?" It might not necessarily be your favorite, but it's the one that stands out in your mind as the werewolf color - although I love them all, so obviously this doesn't apply to me.

I think brown. Sometimes grey.

Throughout my childhood, wolf-man style werewolves were usually brown and the wolf-headed ones were more likely to be grey. There were and are exceptions, of course. But even today, you're still most likely to see brown or grey, including in Halloween decorations, even if there's more variance in designs today (and you're more likely to find wolf-headed ones than you were in the past).

Day 8- One of the weirdest misconceptions I’ve run across in my life of werewolf obsession is this idea that “we need woman werewolves in media, we’ve never had many and they weren’t in the legends.” That couldn’t be less true. There have always been female werewolves in both. It's much safer today to assume the werewolf of a murder mystery will be the woman, as that's the new "twist." I'm much more shocked if it's ever the man anymore (it isn't). Werewolf women have been common even in early film, though the most popular examples begin around the 2000's. In fact, you could easily argue the first werewolf film (though it was about a witch turning into a werewolf) ever recorded in 1913 was about a female werewolf. It's lost to time now, though.

There were plenty of werewolf women in legend, too. I have a werewolf fact for that: https://maverickwerewolf.com/werewolf-facts/werewolf-women/ (my personal favorite has always been the 1615 treatise by Jean de Nynauld, for some reason)

There's a lot more to say, but short post today since I have a lot of work to do. See you again tomorrow!

(in the original version of this post, I had 4 images, all of female werewolves from film, including Cursed, Ginger Snaps, The Howling, and Skinwalkers, though I could pull plenty more examples)

Day 9- Something I discuss a lot in The Werewolf: Past and Future is the point when werewolves "went mad," essentially. In pop culture, all the best werewolves are mad/uncontrollable at least for the most part, as inspired by The Wolf Man. It's a much better story and what makes a werewolf a werewolf in modern perceptions (including mine; those are the best werewolves). But it wasn't always the case in the legends.

Sure, there are several legends in previous time periods of mad werewolves (such as Sigmund and Sinfjotli, among others), but you'll remarkably find the majority had full control of the bestial form. This was especially common in older Christian works, such as about werewolf knights, in which being a werewolf was a test of the judgment of others or a test of one's own will. This also wasn't uncommon in ancient Greece and even Rome, such as the Arcadians taking the form of a wolf and returning to human form as long as they didn't devour any human flesh.

It was only in the Renaissance and/or Early Modern Period, with the rise of science and the popularity of slaughtering wolves (real ones), that werewolves became seen as these uncontrollable, evil, insane killers who were "diseased." In the past, being a werewolf was a magic curse. Then, it became a madness and an illness - called "lycanthropy." Some say Christianity caused this, when in actuality, it was secular divisions and the rise of scientific thought, as proven by older Christian werewolf works.

I have several werewolf facts on this subject, and I discuss it a lot in my book, too.

Book: https://www.amazon.com/dp/1949227022

Post 1: https://maverickwerewolf.com/werewolf-facts/curse-not-disease/

Post 2: https://maverickwerewolf.com/werewolf-facts/when-werewolves-went-mad/

[im-just-a-bug]

Finished In Stars and Time last night and want to put down my thoughts bc that was nuts. Spoilers ahead v

Theres still much I havent seen, and ive only gotten one ending but man this game blew me away. Here are some things i loved about this game.

Timeloops are such a common plot device, a way to help the mc level up for the big bad, and the way they flipped that narrative on its head! The instant shift from "this is a gift to help me!" To "who did I think I was, how stupid," is so satisfying.

The music, at the end, terrified me. That first time Headmaiden broke down, and the music glitched and deteriorated, i realized oh. Oh fuck this is a kind of horror game isn't it. I wasnt wrong.

The changes in character art!!

The subtle things; the mirror never catches you by surprise again. Your battle sprite looks bored. You stop making silly noises at the birds.

That moment in act 3 where everything is finally going right, your companions love you and youve never felt more content, and Siffrin wins and gets to the end and they loop anyway. The way that the first time his party notices anything wrong is when he is completley and utterly heartbroken, the way they run to him. And he wakes up in the meadow, to allies that don't love him anymore. Who have no idea what hes going through. Who aren't grateful. And love didnt win the game so they go searching for answers and it makes sense but it makes everything worse.

You talk to King, and for a second you think everything might work out because stranger things have happened. And after a whole game of Bonnie being safe, Bonnie running away. Bonnie never being in any real danger. King picks them up and crushes them in front of you to 'teach you a lesson.' And the terror on Sifs face the next loop they reach the King startled me deeply, and reminded me that this game is a god damn masterpiece.

The way this game sets you up to stop caring about how you treat others, only to give you a real ending after what was essentially the WORST loop youve ever had?? Incredible. Siffrin doing everything he can to manipulate his way to the end, even if everyone hates him bc hes just so desperate. There's no point being nice, there's no point pretending in the end, bc he hopes there won't be another loop but in their heart they Know there will be, so what's the point? And he fumbles every interaction, makes every one of his friends hate his guts, and then has to fight the King alone. And then they save him anyway. They follow him and pick him up at the end (which cinematically is a God damn masterpiece all on its own God DAMN) and you figure out the whole time Siffrin was looping not bc the country fumbled a Wish, but because he didn't want his friends to go. He wanted to stay with them so badly he wished for it on accident, and the universe listened.

I haven't even gotten into how in awe I was, putting together the little puzzle pieces of Sifs backstory, of his island. Even in act 1 I was squinting my eyes. Several mentions of a whole island wiped from existence no one can remember? A protagonist with severe memory issues and no connection to or knowledge of any culture left? God I love this game.

And Loop. I didnt learn Loops story on my playthrough, but i looked into it and man. Its so incredibly neat that you have this character, this other siffrin, who went through these loops so many times they got desperate enough to make a whole NEW wish, unspecified and uncaring, just wanting something to change. Wanting help. And got shoved into our Siffrins reality instead, because wishes never work how you want them to. Finding their star room and their journal and trinkets and lore was so incredibly cool!! Though im confused why the journal says they made a cooy of themself, but their battle dialogue says they got shoved into a different reality. Idk, but it's still cool. And their anger, that someone else got their happy ending? Fucking mwah.

These characters are so complex and interesting and a day later im still in awe about it. There are so many parts of this game i havent even mentioned here that are like a punch in the face. So many little interactions, so many art shifts.

I loved this game deeply, and the only thing stopping me from playing more is guilt at taking away that ending. When a game makes u care about the characters that much, you know its a great game.

[angelasscribbles]

Character Development

Here's the summary of today's live discussion.

What is it?

Character development can refer to initial character creation, but when I say character development, I'm usually talking about how the character grows and evolves over the course of the story.

We will talk about both.

Character Creation

Creating a character is much more than just what they look like. So many things play into their personality, beliefs, feelings, etc. Their ethnicity, religion, sexual orientation, what kind of upbringing they had, past traumas, general inborn temperament traits, etc.

Character Types

Static v dynamic: refers to how much the character changes throughout the story.

Static characters stay the same and do not change at all during the course of a story.

Dynamic characters change and grow in many different directions. This character will develop and change throughout the story, sometimes to the point where it surprises the reader. Sometimes they surprise themselves and the other characters.

Flat v Round: refers to how much depth the character has.

Flat: A flat character is pretty one-dimensional, and that doesn’t change throughout the story. It is a static character with little to no depth. Maybe one or two identifying traits.

Round: A round character is more developed and has some depth and layers. They are interesting. They do not necessarily change throughout. (Unless they are also dynamic).

Character-driven story v Plot-driven stories: A plot-driven story is one where the plot moves the characters, while a character-driven story is one where the characters drive the plot. 

The key difference between a plot-driven story and a character-driven one is that in a character-led narrative, the focus is more on the thoughts and feelings of the protagonist and the decisions that they make. Whereas, in plot-driven narratives, the action and occurrences that unfold will be the main point of focus.

Plot Driven examples:

Jurassic Park by Michael Crichton.

Dark Matter by Blake Crouch.

Gone Girl by Gillian Flynn.

The Da Vinci Code by Dan Brown.

Character Driven examples:

To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee.

The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo by Taylor Jenkins Reid

Practical Magic by Alice Hoffman.

Some Definitions

Main Character: The character through whose POV we get the story. Often the same as the protagonist, but not always.

Protagonist: Prime mover of the plot. And in the vast majority of cases, the main character.

False protagonist: A character that seems to be the protagonist until a twist tells the reader otherwise. Think Ned Stark in Game of Thrones. This is why his death was such a shock, because most readers assumed he was the main character. This is often done exactly for that reason. Plot twists and shock value.

Antagonist: Opposing force who stands in the way of the protagonist’s goals.

Grey/morally ambiguous character: Just as it sounds. A character who is not all good nor all bad. They have complex motives and can sometimes be a loose cannon. Their actions are not always clear-cut in terms of morality.

Unreliable Narrator: An unreliable narrator is an untrustworthy storyteller, most often used in narratives with a first-person point of view. The unreliable narrator is either deliberately deceptive or unintentionally misguided, forcing the reader to question their credibility as a storyteller.

Character Arc

The character arc is the full extent of how the character's inner world - thoughts and emotions - transforms from the beginning to the end of a narrative.

Things we will discuss in a future session:

Character motivation

Inciting incident

drivers of character growth

Random recommendations from today:

Lovecraft Country: an American horror drama television series developed by Misha Green based on and serving as a continuation of the 2016 novel of the same name by Matt Ruff. Lovecraft Country follows Atticus Freeman as he joins up with his friend Letitia and his Uncle George to embark on a road trip across 1950s Jim Crow America in search of his missing father. This begins a struggle to survive and overcome both the racist terrors of white America and the terrifying monsters that could be ripped from a Lovecraft paperback.

Otherworld series by Kelley Armstrong. A good example of using the same characters but shifting who is the main character from book to book. The series began in 2001 with Bitten, featuring werewolf Elena Michaels. It continued for thirteen novels, introducing other supernatural characters–witches, ghosts, necromancers, half-demons–and spinning off to their stories, and expanding the series into a multi-narrator fantasy world. Past characters continued to appear in guest roles and often returned to narrate new novels or short fiction.

Ya'll, I'm sure there were more recs from both myself and others but I'm drawing a blank and once the live stage ends, I can't see the chat anymore, so please comment or DM me if you remember a rec that I didn't.

Please, if I've missed anything at all, mention it in the comments and I'll add it!

Also, check out these articles:

Character Development

April Event:

TBD pending voting.

Word Warriors:

@karahalloway @aussiegurl1234 @harleybeaumont @alj4890 @peonierose @petiteboheme @twinkleallnight @lizzybeth1986 @noesapphic  @thedistantshoresproject @welcometotheweirdplqce

@ryns-ramblings @tate-lin @nestledonthaveone

@aallotarenunelma @kristinamae093 @coffeeheartaddict2 @memorias-depresivas

@jerzwriter

[straynoahide]

tolkien meta: the melodic structure of the ainulindale, arda's endgame, and the doom of men

so basically this is about what one can learn and connect to the rest of the legendarium's lore from the ainulindale, and also peer into tolkien's psyche as a side effect i guess. expect excessive theology or more fun imo philosophy of divinity and lengthy tangents about melkor, the nature of evil and theodicy

a small disclaimer - this touches thorny topics in philosophy like the problem of evil, the nature of redemption/salvation, death...

this isn't about my beliefs but presenting and reflecting on tolkien's own within the history of ideas. i acknowledge anyone who reads this also has their own, and can agree or disagree with tolkien. my views may seep in unintentionally but i try to go deeper than that.

pd: I write Eru/One/God indistinctively on purpose. it's for rhetorical emphasis, not so much out of (default cultural) christianity.

part I - introduction (in this post) part II - the themes/structure, discussion part III - discussion (cont): themes of arda and life part IV - discussion (cont 2): theme of the children part V - discussion (cont 3): aftermath/second music

Introduction (i rec reading even if you're versed in the lore)

for those who are not so familiar with parts of the legendarium but still interested in a deep dive, the ainulindalë ("song of the ainur") is the creation myth of tolkien's world.

i rec just reading it if you haven't even if it's after reading this. it's quite beautiful and unique and it's brought admiration even from ppl who study that kind of thing professionally about real cultures. i'm not given to flattery but idk just check it out.

so anyway, the ainur, spirits born from the One creator's mind directly, sang under (or despite) His direction and the melody (both harmony and discord) that resulted, is the history of the world.

by the world we have two concepts here, the entire universe (eä) and the planet (arda) 'earth', of which middle-earth is a later-stage continent. the music itself was a creative process that the ainur partook in before knowing the full implication of their singing.

God showed the ainur the vision of what their music had created and when they saw the world they wanted to live it, to dwell on it and experience it.

God granted this but said they had to remain in it until the full music, the full story had played out.

this includes everything that happens in the Silmarillion, the LOTR movies and sequels/prequels, the TROP series, games, etc, and in some stages of Tolkien's opus, our own world (WWI, WWII, etc).

the Discord refers to the rebellious effect of Melkor on the music as much as his part of the music - the dissonance born from his part's coexistence with the rest of the melody that is in harmony, and takes a 'life of its own'.

this is not unimportant, but i'm not going to discuss it at any point. i will point out here that it has been argued -controversially- by some people to be relevant in compatibilizing or explaining otherwise difficult-to-reconcile lore points that deal with "non-Melkorian evil". this is about things like Ungoliant or the nameless things 'whose mention darken the light of day', whose in-world origins are unclear.

on a broader note, this represents two very different intuitions about evil and divinity (Tolkienian v Lovecraftian, we could say). these are difficult to compatibilize and more than Tolkien's psyche, represent ancient tensions within monotheistic religions themselves, i think. so within Tolkien's world, which has an Abrahamic/monotheistic god, you still find traces of Lovecraftian horror.

all that follows is about Tolkienian evil (meta) i.e. Melkorian evil (in-world), that is uncontroversially and explicitly under the governance of the One, although non-Melkorian evil is a fascinating subject.

[ash-and-starlight]

Books of 2023

the list nobody asked for <3

My reading habits had gone a bit stagnant in the past couple of years so this year i made the effort to engage in reading again and wow books really are good!! who would have thought! Sharing this year's book log with the small reviews i did while reading yeah i am That kind of list lover if u feel like being nosy, (and maybe even help mi crowdsource reading recs based on my likes 👀🤲?)

The left Hand of Darkness - Ursula K. Le Guin Ursula i Need to know your thoughts on omegaver- [gunshot] THAT ASIDE yeah. mrs Le Guin you've done it again. I can see why everyone got their brain chemistry altered by this book.

The Membranes - Chi Ta-Wei another brain chemistry altering book. would love to discuss it with a gender studies major lmao

Satanic Verses - Salman Rushdie its a v atmospheric and poignant story, I know I would have loved it more if I was familiar with the rich religious/cultural background it draws from

The Masquerade Series - Seth Dickinson Crazy insane in the membrane about this series. one of the most compelling worldbuildings I've ever seen, and most importantly it features one of the most crazy wet pathetic scrunkly meow meow protagonists i've ever had the pleasure of reading about.

Middlesex - Jeffrey Eugenides i liked the writing style of this book a lot! idk how well it holds up re: intersexuality topic, but its a very engaging read.

Dead Blondes and Bad Mothers: Monstrosity, Patriarchy, and the Fear of Female Power - Jude Ellison, Sady Doyle The title says it all honestly, its a beautiful, thought provoking and engaging essay, spanning eras, pop culture phenomenons, and real life events on the topic of women and horror.

The cat who saved books - Sōsuke Natsukawa this was so cute and heartfelt, it will really make you go Ah Yes, this is Why we Love Books <333

The Locked Tomb Series - Tamsyn Muir now when people say there is a girl who is the cursed sacrifice of 2000 infants who falls in love with the sleeping embodiment of the soul of the Earth (barbie) and also another girl who is the only survivor of the aforementioned sacrifice and is. a Jesus metaphor? and also the two girls become one at some point. and every book is a different genre. and god is bisexual. and memes survived the nuclear apocalypse. I can just nod and say so true.

The Area X Trilogy - Jeff VanderMeer Rotating this series in the microwave of my mind at the speed of light it's soSO GOOD!! the movie doesn't even come close honestly u NEED to read the books. and then go touch grass and be aware of every strand in a completely new way.

The Dawn of Yangchen - F. C. Yee nice read! I was more invested in the worldbuilding crumbs than in the actual story lmao, I will forever think about the HEATED airball rivalry between the air temples and about the swt greetings / bethrotal armbands.

Inuit Stories of Being and Rebirth: Gender, Shamanism, and the Third Sex - Bernard Saladin d'Anglure starting w a disclaimer bc I feel like the topic of native colonization was ignored when it should have been way more prominent when talking about the context of where and when these testimonies were collected?? That aside it was very interesting and well put together, with first account testimonies of Inuit elders about their myths, lifestyles and beliefs.

Pachinko - Min Jin Lee i read the book after having seen the tv series (which i also rlly recommend). Very moving story about a family and its generations, from Korea under Japanese colonization to modern day America.

Her body and other parties - Carmen Maria Marchado sometimes I go about my day then I remember this book exists and stare at the wall for 30 minutes.

Dictionnaire de l'impossible - Didier Van Cauwelaert big miss. this collection of articles about "strange impossible phenomenons" sounded so quirky and interesting but i sure would have loved if the author hadnt so clearly picked a side. and also way too much church for my tastes.

He who Drowned the World - Shelley Parker Chan Im not even gonna speak about this one if you've followed me since july you know what pits of insanity and despair i'm in

Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow - Gabrielle Zevin Sometimes!! the book with pretty covers put in the "famous on socials" bookstore section!! are good!! It's about being othered it's about connection it's about diaspora it's about love and friendship and most of all it's about viddy games.

Station Eleven - Emily St. John Mandel reading this post-covid and learning it was written in 2017 was A TRIP. Psychic damage at every page. still feeling very normla.

The Mask of Apollo - Mary Renault Ugh i desperately wanted to like this book because the setup is so interesting and full of potential, but the end result was just. flat. flat story flat characters the plot focusing on the wrong things at the wrong times i was so DONE when i reached the end otz.

Babel - R. F. Kuang LOVED the worldbuilding in this, the "lost in translation" system of magic is one of the most interesting things ive ever read. I think theres something about the writing in general that didn't win me over completely?? but all in all a very good

Red Ocean - Han Song This sure is a Book. That i've Read. its so profundly strange and unlike anything ive come across that i dont even know what to feel about it. i think 90% of my confusion comes from Not Getting Cultural References so if someone has a "red ocean explained" essay plz send it my way bc i couldnt find one.

[krislgfox]

Can I hear more about your "Simon's Sweet Bakery" AU?

Oh! Okay okay! :D

So this au is focused only on Simon and the Player. Everything there is a novella game with lots of different endings, from great ones, to silly ones and to bad and horror ones(and one secret ending🤫)!

Everything take place in some lil city, with only one bakery(+ it's some kind of like restaurant or smth)

The story starts with Player being late to work, they didn't managed to get breakfast and they were very hungry. Then the run past the bakery, and this would be the first choice that leads to the first neutral ending and the continues of the story, the choice would be "enter the bakery" or "leave"

Every, and I mean every, your choice will effect the story and lead to lot's of endings!

All the characters, expect for Simon, are NPC's or just a background characters, they mostly doesn't take part in the story, but! There's some NPC'S with which you would be able to communicate, they will tell some facts depending on the ending u closer to get(when u're closer to the secret ending, almost all talking NPC'S disappears)

Ngl, I took the biggest inspiration for this au from Bonnie's Bakery and Slay the Princess! ^ v ^

Still, au is fresh as a just baked bread, so I don't mind some suggestions or more ideas! :]

[artbyblastweave]

An interesting thing about how The Boys handled the Black Noir face reveal is that it completely recontextualizes his previous presence on the show as an intimidating but zany stoic weirdo. Season One Black Noir is fundamentally a kind of guy- “faceless cipher with specific, amusing, discordant, out-of-nowhere tics” is a specific species of comic-relief character. The grim-and-silent enforcer inexplicably being an incredible piano player, or really into Japanese tea ceremonies, provides extremely funny whiplash. Any trait at all becomes discordant and funny when the sum of the character is “emphasized traitlessness.” (This is also where The Pyro from TF2 derives a lot of comedic mileage from- even beyond the pyrovision reveal.)

And then you get the backstory episode, and the comedic potential of all the previous sight gags becomes ash on the wind. 

He isn’t wearing a mask because he’s an eccentric weirdo, he’s wearing a mask he hates because it’s the only way to remain marketable with a disfiguring injury in an industry that unpersons people with physical imperfections- and in the flashback sequence you can see the exact second he arrives at this conclusion after he’s been injured and resignedly puts the mask back on. His more eccentric mannerisms and his pyrovision-style hallucinations are directly tied into the massive (and racially motivated!) brain damage he took at the hands of Soldier Boy. He very much does not “not identify as any race.” I suspect that his incongruously "refined” hobbies- the piano, the tea ceremonies- are directly downstream of his one-time goal of being a positive role model; his incongruous breakdown in the aftermath of the compound V reveal is definitely tied into that, into the reveal that everything he could have become to the public would have just been a lie as well. I don’t think there’s a single thing he’s involved in that doesn’t come across completely differently with the context season 3 adds. Even the gag where he pointedly throws that candy bar away finds a referent in how Stan Edgar would eat peanuts in front of him as a dominance thing.

I think this is illustrative of one of the two possible terminal states of characters like this. You can bite the bullet and ground and contextualize their behavior by giving them a backstory, which upends your ability to use them as a pure comedic object. Alternatively, you can arrest them indefinitely as the Funny Weirdo Who’s Just Like That, at the cost of becoming kinda one note. I recall something similar to what happened to Black Noir happening to Deadpool on the comics side of things; a boom-bust cycle of stories that use his amnesia, swiss-cheese brain and body horror for pure comedy, followed by sincere examinations of the existential horror of having to live that way. And honestly, the main reason Pyro Tf2 hasn’t had this happen to them is that Valve couldn’t advance a story if you took their families hostage; if they were at all capable of keeping the comics moving forward at a reasonable clip, we’d have had heartwrenching context on why Pyro is Like That around 2018. But eventually, you gotta pick. You gotta commit to something. The mask has to come off. So pick wisely, and pick something that’ll maximize the amount of air sucked in through teeth as audience members start connecting dots.

[salvadorbonaparte]

2024 in Films - Part I

I watched too many films again this year so here's some reviews from the first quarter of 2024

January

Kuch Kuch Hota Hai (1998) - Pretty much the opposite college experience as depicted in 3 Idiots and also there's a scene where a child spontaneously converts to Islam to keep a wedding from happening and that works

Rocky (1976) - I got a little too into that series this year

The Karate Kid (1984) - Turns out the original is actually pretty good and I just watched the bad reboot as a kid! Oops!

Face/Off (1997) - This feels like it should be a fake film within a different film. Why is the face transplant plan A? There are some great scenes though, like the wife not recognising her husband, that made me question if this is actually a really deep exploration of identity. And then it got silly again.

Theater Camp (2023) - Almost makes me wish summer camps were real

Gone are the Days! (1963) - I watched this for Alan Alda's terrible high pitched southern accent but stayed for Ossie Davis infectious energy

Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (2004) - Manic Pixie Dream Girl Amnesia. Joke aside, why is it that I can't stand Jim Carrey in comedies but love him in dramas

Moonstruck (1987) - This won an Oscar????

February

That Touch of Mink (1962) - homophobia stops insider trading apparently

Carol (2015) - This probably would have given me a sexuality crisis in 2015

Ay Carmela (1990) - no scene in any film will portray the horror of the civil war and fascism as well as the half eaten dinner table in the abandoned house

Rope (1948) - people only focus on the gay subtext (which is real) but can we pleeaaase talk about the politics of the film

Catch-22 (1970) - did a pretty good job in adapting a book that is really difficult to adapt

Platoon (1986) - This was another entry in my grad school watch list

Pan's Labyrinth (2006) - I wanted to watch this since forever but wanted to wait until I could understand it in Spanish. Well worth the hype.

Rocky II (1979) - a sequel that initially made me go "was this really necessary" but then brought me a lot of joy

Rocky III (1982) - Intricate Rituals

Rocky IV (1985) - A metaphor for the Cold War but also. Bad.

Rocky V (1990) - Bad

Rocky Balboa (2006) - Better but like what the fuck was that editing during the fight

March

Hannah Gadsby: Nanette (2018) - I love when stand up comedy is recommended to me with "this will make you cry and change your life" and then it's true

The Holdovers (2023) - Liked it so much I watched it twice but the guy playing Kountze looked too modern like he definitely knows what an iPhone is

The Zone of Interest (2023) - the banality of evil is kind of a cliché phrase by now but it's real

American Fiction (2023) - clever satire, if I say more it probably turns into an essay

Capote (2005) - Rip Truman Capote you would have loved true crime podcasts. Also this was a continuation of my Philip Seymour Hoffman haunting

An American Werewolf in London (1981) - I love when a werewolf film doubles as survivors guilt

Poor Things (2023) - Horrible

Creed (2015) - Pretty much just Rocky but with a 2015 soundtrack and I'm not mad about it

A Fantastic Woman (2017) - a wrote a long ass review on letterboxd about this film is about loss

Creed II (2018) - As haunted as a sports movie is allowed to get before having to add real ghosts (please tell me there's sports films with ghosts). It's about "like father like son". It's about legacy. It's about being defined by your family names. It's about fatherhood. It's about breaking the cycle.

Creed III (2023) - Finally a film that asks the brave question "what if Rocky V was good?"

Dune (1984) - I liked the worms

The Joel Files (2001) - the story of two families in the third reich and one of them happened to be Billy Joel's

Oppenheimer (2023) - Would have made me insufferable during my teenage physics phase

Shiva Baby (2020) - a film that's also an anxiety attack

Searching for Sugar Man (2012) - insane!!!

Menashe (2017) - first Yiddish film I ever watched

Fruitvale Station (2013) - haunted

I, Tonya (2017) - a film keenly aware of the unreliability and subjectivity of both interviews and biopics, this is a sports biopic but also a moving story about the human need for love and the cycle of abuse and it's also damn funny.

Nosferatu (1922) - both scarier and more boring than the novel and also uniquely blood libel flavoured

Mädchen in Uniform (1931) - people were right this is gay

Picnic at Hanging Rock (1975) - Lovecraftian horror for cottagecore lesbians

I do not care if we go down in history as barbarians (2018) - history repeats itself, first as a tragedy then as a farce

La Haine (1995) - I watched this because of my professor :)

A Most Wanted Man (2014) - Philip Seymour Hoffman Haunting Continuation

Ödipussi (1988) - "Mommy calls me Pussi" is an actual quote

13 Little Donkeys and the Sun Court (1958) - Yeehaw???

[my-own-walker]

Ever Fallen In Love (With Someone You Shouldn’t’ve?) 

note: this special request was sent to me by @the-goblin1. thank you, my dear. you have the mind of a mastermind. 

summary: evan gets the hots for his co-star during a scene

warnings: sm*t, fem!reader, p in v, evan being horny lol

+++

Evan’s POV

The success of the show was unexpected. When the second season was announced, I wasn't told anything about it. Just that I wouldn't be playing Tate again.

The new season brought many changes. Doing an anthological series came with its challenges. I would be playing an entirely different character, in a different story, set in a different place.

Kit came pretty easily to me, minus his accent. That kind of challenge is what you look for as an actor, though.

It was announced that my love interest would be played by a relatively new actress named Y/N Y/L/N. In the spirit of changing things up, Taissa wouldn't be returning this season. She wouldn't be my scene partner anymore. It was like going to school after summer break and finding out your best friend wasn't in your class.

It was a total gut punch, for sure. Until I actually met Y/N.

She and I clicked really well. We had a mutual understanding of the motives of these characters and our scenes went off without a hitch. She was quick as a whip. She knew exactly how to make me laugh. We bonded over our love of acting and our tastes in music.

She got her start only a year prior to shooting Asylum. Some Disney Channel show, she said. I nearly cackled when I found out. I sort of didn't want to relive my time as Seth in 'Phil of the Future,' but she gave me no choice. We talked about our experiences with Disney sets. She had some sort of bit part, kind of like mine. She said she played the bully in the episode.

It helped her get cast in other more serious roles. She must have really sold that bully part. A couple episodes on some medical dramas and crime shows led her to the part of Grace in American Horror Story, and I couldn't complain.

It's worth mentioning that she was absolutely stunning. Just visually a marvel. I tried not to let it affect my work, but god, was she beautiful.

It was impossible to ignore my feelings for her. It physically hurt to keep myself away. I didn't want to compromise the work we were trying to do, but man I was starving for her. Ah, the genius of pain. It was like a knife in my stomach, poking and prodding at me each time she walked into the room. A constant feeling of disquiet and adrenaline.

The tension I felt worked for the story, thankfully. I found that our scenes were more believable because of how enamored I was.

It was like I had a schoolyard crush. I found myself frightened by the bite of rejection, entirely unsure of her feelings toward me. The aforementioned knife twisted every time I thought I might fall short of the mark. That she would be repulsed by me, or disinterested in the most soul-crushing way.

I didn't want to compromise our friendship. We had grown so close. The season's filming was going so well. I didn't want to risk it all and lose her due to the shame of rejection and uncomfortable feelings between us. And I for sure didn't want her or me to lose the job because our scenes got awkward.

But then came the sex scene.

+

Written into the plot was a love story blossoming between our two characters. It would come to a boiling point in an intense scene in the bakery.

It was as if a softly spoken magic spell granted my ultimate wish. Being that close to her, all over her, was all I could think about since meeting her. Now it was coming true. And in a way that made it so that I didn't have to actually put myself out there and get rejected.

The shoot started without a hitch. We were briefed by the intimacy coach ahead of filming in order to make the scene as comfortable as possible for the both of us. We were fitted with the necessary modesty undergarments that kept things sanitary, but convincing for TV.

After running through some things a couple of times, both of us felt ready to start. I began the scene, Y/N walked in and we exchanged dialogue. The lines flowed naturally, growing in intensity until I had to hoist her onto the table, hungrily gripping at her clothes.

I thought I could stop myself. I thought that being in character would prevent it from happening. But my true feelings made themselves known as soon as I had to act out thrusting inside of her. My mind wandered. I pictured her and I doing this, but for real, just the two of us. No cameras. No lights. Just real and raw. Before I knew it, I felt a tightness in my pants grow. My groin began to throb. Y/N looked down at my erection and blushed, breaking character and giggling a bit.

'Cut!'

'I'm so sorry," Y/N laughed, straightening herself up. 'We can take it again, I got distracted.' She looked down at me from atop the table and smiled. My face flushed.

Was she grossed out? Fuck. I thought.

'U-uh-' I stuttered. 'Can I actually take five? I think my uh- costume malfunctioned.'

The crew obliged and I quickly made my way to a back room, hidden from everyone on set. I was so embarrassed. My cheeks burned so hot, I thought they might burst into flames. I began to adjust myself, making sure I didn't have to clean anything up before returning to work.

'Boo,' a voice said behind me. My heart nearly stopped.

'Fuck!' I yelped, shoving my dick in my pants and turning on my heel to see a very coy Y/N standing before me.

'I thought I might find you here,' she smirked. She turned around and closed the door behind her, quietly locking it.

'Hey listen, uh-' I began. 'I'm so sorry about earlier I just-' She cut me off by putting her lips on mine. I tensed at the touch but didn't pull away. I just couldn't believe it was real life. My arms wrapped around her frame, just as they did in the scene, cradling her closely. We made out feverishly, every bottled-up desire I had bubbled to the surface.

I felt for the hem of her dress, beginning to lift it up before stopping dead and separating myself from her.

'What's wrong?' she panted, looking up at me with her big sparkly eyes. My stomach lurched.

'I just, I don't want to do this if you don't,' I muttered, sheepishly. I'm not even sure if that's what I actually wanted to say, but it came out nonetheless.

'I want this, Evan,' she whispered. 'I'll confess, I think I really like you.'

'I-'

'And I think you feel the same, based on what happened a few minutes ago,' she continued.

'Y/N, I want to be professional, but fuck, do I have feelings for you,' I replied. 'But I think, I think for work's sake, we should hold off.'

'We're playing two people in love, why would it compromise our job? If anything, it would help us,' she argued.

'If we do this, I’ll run the risk of losing you, and that’s worse,' I breathed.

She didn't reply. Instead, she grabbed me by my face and pulled me in, resuming our make-out session. I couldn't hold it in any longer. I grabbed her shoulders and led her backward, pressing her up against the wall. She moaned softly. The pressure in my pants returned. Or had it ever even left?

Her hands fumbled around at my waistband, looking to unhook my belt. I helped her out, removing it in one swift motion. She took the button of my pants in her fingers, unlatching it hastily, then at last, she unzipped my fly. I tugged the trousers off and my cock sprang out, throbbing immensely. I couldn't wait to feel it inside her warm, wet pussy.

She removed her panties and reconnected with my lips, wrapping her arms around my neck. I hoisted her up the wall hurriedly, my dick finding and sliding inside her dripping cunt almost instantly. We both let out loud moans as I thrust further into her, feeling her warmth encompassing my member. Her walls tightened almost too deliciously around me, making it tremendously hard for me to stop myself from coming. I groaned.

'Oh my god,' she cried, eyes screwed shut in pleasure. Her face was so contorted by ecstasy, it made me fuck her harder.

'I'm gonna come,' I moaned, thrusting just a few more times before blowing my load unceremoniously inside of her. Months of tension released. She threw her head back and cried out, signaling that she had as well.

I removed myself from inside of her and guided her back down to her feet, holding my hands on her shoulders to keep her steady. My knees were weak, too. Pure adrenaline was keeping me upright.

'Holy shit,' she panted. 'Holy shit.'

'You're so fucking hot,' I growled, punctuating it by peppering kisses up and down her neck and chest. Finally having caught her breath, she laughed.

'I think we may have to, you know, do our job now?' she snarked.

'The job where I get to pretend to fuck you? Don't mind if I do,' I replied, wrapping my arms around her waist and pulling her in close.

'We can go for round two after we nail this next take, okay?' she smirked. My chest tightened in the best way. She took my breath away.

+++

LOL I HOPE THIS WAS OKAY!!! writer's block had me in a chokehold. i have so many requests to get through i was like 'damn where do i even start???' clearly it was with this one. thanks for breaking the curse. more to come very very soon...

[child-of-the-sky-people]

hi Ali! im looking for a new narrative podcast to get into, what's your current rec list? :)

Oh god it’s so long 😂

Horror:

Human Error - this one is mine so of course I’m recommending it 😂 it’s about a found family of survivors going on a road trip during a zombie apocalypse 12 years after the world ended!

We’re Alive - also zombie horror and was the show that got me into audio dramas! It’s very long and looks overwhelming but I promise it’s good!

Darkest Night - anthology horror where you find out how people died but each case is actually related and there is a bigger mystery and this show lives in my head rent free lol

The Waystation - found footage style show about a group of people on a space station that all died (the story is trying to piece together what happened). It’s along the same lines as The White Vault

DERELICT - a research group are studying a door at the bottom of the ocean, and then shit goes sideways. I binged this series super fact and I need season 2 immediately lol

The Eleventh Hour episode called The City of Statues - I made this! It’s about a group of survivors trying to make it out of a city filled with statues trying to hunt them down 👀

Someone Dies in this Elevator - mix of horror and thriller I think. It’s an anthology series where every episode someone dies in an elevator 👀 I composed for a few episodes and it’s v fun 🤩

Thriller

The Liberty Podcast - made by the same folks behind The White Vault and VAST Horizon. It’s an anthology series of stories taking place within and surrounding a tower where a civilization lives. Some episodes might lean more towards horror but I personally consider it more thriller

The Walk - made by the same folks behind zombies run! In this show you the listener are the main character, an individual making their way across Scotland with a package they were mistakenly delivered. I love this show so much omg

Primordial Deep - scientists are finding extinct dinosaurs alive and well under the ocean and they’re trying to figure out what the fuck is going on. I fucking love this show omg

Spines - woman wakes up in the middle of a cult ritual with no memories and is trying to figure out who she is and where she came from. Also there are powers!

Mirrors - same person behind Spines! Three women from three different centuries (who are all related to each other) discover they can communicate with each other through ghost like figures. It has a bigger mystery and the ending made me cry it was so good

InCo - a woman finds a prince from a world that shouldn’t exist floating in space. This show is a delight and is a micro series and I love the humor within it so much omg

Where the Stars Fell - the Antichrist is roommates with their guardian angel and they’re trying to stop the rapture

DUST - anthology series about science fiction and technology! Season 3 is definitely my favorite as it is one story but the entire show as a whole is very good

Feel Good/Light Hearted Shows

Unseen - this show lives in my head rent free and I ache for it to be real. It’s about magic existing in the real world and is an anthology! It’s made by the same folks behind Wolf 359

Joy to the World - holiday series I helped produce! It’s about an astronaut named Joy talking with different people on Earth about the holidays! It’s an anthology and v warm and I highly recommend it as a holiday series

Sidequesting - a person who is totally not the hero is avoiding the main plot and going on a bunch of side quests! It’s charming and lovely and made by the wonderful Tal

Back Again, Back Again - a woman is retelling her stories of his magical world she was transported into and about the prophecy she became involved in

If none of these are your jam lmk and I can suggest some more! If you tell me what you like to listen to/what kinds of stories you enjoy I can make a more personalized list