#een hop

[ho-site-1]

Zie zeldzame afbeeldingen van kleurrijke vogels en papegaaien, een kraai, een havik, een adelaar, een hop, een duif,

[repurposedmeatlocker]

haha hi heheheh

[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!

[jebewonmorelike]

Gummy Worms

wc: 2.3k pronouns: none used; n/a -- reader is a trainee at boys planet, but it's just a story so you can pretend any gender is allowed to compete; it doesn't affect the story! warnings: light swears; some mean!junhyeon but fluffy ending; gunwook and gyuvin being absolutely on one summary: junhyeon has really messed up by using an immature method to get rivaltrainee!reader's perpetual attention; can the en garde team convince him to turn it around? ~bp masterlist~ ♡ ~kofi (no pressure at all)~ guys i just know gyuvin and gunwook are actually like this. this is basically just as much about the rest of dog union as it is about junhyeon so it's slightly insane in the best way. somebody save hao from all those nutcases in zb1 LMAO. had a bunch of requests for junhyeon, because he's the best. so i just compiled a couple of them into this baby. :)

"I can fit ten gummy worms in my mouth," Gyuvin brags, smiling smugly at his friends as he stuffs one, two, five, ten gummy worms into his cheeks.

"That's so gross," Gunwook replies, his face twisting up in fascinated disgust. "But I bet I can fit twenty."

The tall boy is just about to shove a gummy worm in his mouth when the door to the En Garde practice room opens. Hoetaek, Seunghwan and Hiroto come rushing in, joining the three members of the Dog Union where they're sitting on the floor.

As Seunghwan plops himself down, his face contorts. "Gyuvin, what the hell is in your mouth?"

"Only ten gummy worms," Gunwook answers for Gyuvin, who is trying to chew the gelatinous mountain of candy in vain. "Wanna see me fit twenty?"

Seunghwan shakes his head. "No, I do not."

Junhyeon sighs audibly. It's only now that the other three boys notice that the loudest trainee has yet to say a word.

"Is something wrong, Junhyeon?" Hiroto asks politely.

Junhyeon sighs again; even deeper this time for dramatic effect as he bemoans, "No."

Hoetaek snorts. "You clearly want us to know something is wrong, so please just get on with it already."

"Geez, tough crowd," Junhyeon relents, leaning back on his hands.

"ISJ COAUGE YARNOIME ISJN HIUA YIH!" Gyuvin tries to say through the gummy worms in his mouth.

"What?" Seunghwan asks, eyes filled with judgment as he stares at the younger boy.

"He said it's cause (Y/N) isn't here yet," Gunwook clarifies, popping a gummy worm into his own mouth.

Hoetaek's brow furrows in confusion. "Why would you be upset about that, Junhyeon? I mean, you've been pretty vocal about your dislike for (Y/N)."

"ISJ AHR OM OCK!" Gyuvin attempts to contribute again.

The other boys look to Gunwook expectantly for a translation.

"He said it's all an act," Gunwook relays, whipping his hair from his eyes and throwing another gummy worm onto his tongue.

"What? What do you mean its all an act?" Hiroto asks.

"HIJ OCKSH--."

"That's it," Hoe Taek reprimands sternly, pointing to the garbage can in the corner of the room. "Go spit all of that out right now!"

Gyuvin pouts, chipmunk cheeks still stuffed full of gummy worms as he stands up and walks over to the garbage can sadly.

"And Junhyeon-- just speak for yourself, please," Hoe Taek adds.

Junhyeon nods slowly, chewing his bottom lip. "I actually--."

"HIJ OCKSHOOIRE EEN LUBBIT YERUNOIWE!" Gunwook jumbles, mouth now full to the brim with gummy worms as the rest of the boys turn to look at him. He holds up two fingers and three fingers on either hand respectively to indicate the number of gummy worms he was able to stuff in his cheeks.

The other three boys groan exasperatedly as Gunwook hops up and skips over to the trash can next to Gyuvin.

"That was awesome, buddy," Gyuvin praises with a grin, giving his younger friend a high-five on his way back to the circle. As he sits down, he adds, "Oh, and he said it's cause Junhyeon's actually in love with (Y/N)."

Junhyeon's eyes widen in panic as he hits Gyuvin's arm. "That's--... That's not--... I wasn't gonna say all that, you idiot!"

"Ow," the taller boy whines, rubbing the spot where Junhyeon had hit him. "And I didn't say it-- I was just translating for Wook, remember?"

"Wait," Hoetaek interjects, eyes filled with confusion. "Is that true, Hyeonni? Then why do you fight with (Y/N) pretty much every chance you get?"

"Uh," Junhyeon stammers, wincing as he gives his answer. "Because that's the only way I could get (Y/N) to talk to me..."

"WHAT!?" Seunghwan exclaims, turning his head to glare at Gunwook and Gyuvin who have resumed eating gummy worms. "And you two knew about this? Why didn't you stop him!?"

"We tried to tell him it would be better to just be himself," Gunwook attempts to defend. "But he said he wouldn't take advice from us even if we paid him to."

The other three boys stare at Gunwook and Gyuvin for a moment, remnants of gummy worm mush still on their baby faces. Finally, they all nod in agreement.

"Yeah, no, that makes sense," Hiroto concurs.

"Can't blame him for that," Seunghwan chimes.

Junhyeon sighs. "What am I gonna do now? If I keep picking on (Y/N), then I'm hated. But if I stop, I go back to basically not existing."

"You could just be honest, Junhyeon," Hoetaek advises, eyes softening at the much younger boy in front of him. "The next time you see (Y/N), you can just tell the truth about why you've been acting so mean and you can drop this--."

In the middle of Hoetaek's pep talk, the door to the practice room flies open as you quickly run in and sit down in the circle; completely out of breath.

"Stop panting so hard-- I can smell your breath from here," Junhyeon jabs immediately.

"Oh god," Hoetaek mumbles, head falling to his hands hopelessly.

"You should hold your breath then," you reply with a sneer. "Forever."

Junhyeon glares, jaw setting irritatedly. "Why were you so late anyway?"

You nod to Hoetaek and the others apologetically. "I'm so sorry, I had to take an urgent call. It won't happen again."

"No worries," Hoetaek forgives with a smile. "I think we should probably start this afternoon by solidifying our parts now that we're down a few team members. Should we begin with the Killing Part?"

Everyone nods, preparing themselves for another mini audition.

"Wookie has it now, of course, but I think you'll find it hard not to give it to the handsomest member of the team," Junhyeon jokes, pointing to himself and smizing.

The rest of the boys laugh, but you just roll your eyes. “You might have a shot if you miraculously develop some talent to match those looks.”

Seunghwan and Hoetaek glance at each other nervously as Hiroto looks down awkwardly at his lap.

Gunwook's eyes widen in bewilderment. "Wait, did (Y/N) just inadvertently agree that Junhyeon’s handsome?"

Gyuvin reaches his hand into the bag of gummy worms beside him, eyes locked on the scene playing out in front of them. "Ssssh," he hisses, shoveling the handful of candy into his mouth and chewing loudly. "It's getting good."

"Well, you might have a better chance at the killing part if you had any looks to back up that talent..." Junhyeon counters.

You laugh at his comeback. “At least I can meaningfully contribute to my team’s performance.”

“What does it matter when no one wants you on their team to begin with!?”

"Oh shit," Gyuvin whispers.

"This is bad," Gunwook agrees, shoveling a handful of gummy worms into his own mouth now. "This is really bad."

You can’t help the way your face suddenly falls.

“You’re only on this team in the first place because your fans voted you in,” Junhyeon digs in further. “And you’re only still on it because Park Hanbin self-sacrificed.”

“Junhyeon—,” Hoetaek attempts to mediate, but it’s too late.

“What are you trying to say?" You ask, a lump forming in your throat.

"That literally nobody here likes you!"

The room is silent as your eyes begin to sting. You fruitlessly try to blink away the unexpected tears welling up in them.

"Junhyeon," Hoetaek scolds, frowning at the younger boy.

“What!?” Junhyeon’s eyebrows raise incredulously. “(Y/N)'s the one who called me untalented!”

As you look around, you now notice that all of your teammates are staring directly at you. Was Junhyeon telling the truth? Did nobody here like you?

You’re not sure why, but you’re becoming a bit overwhelmed. You didn’t sign up for this stupid show to be part of some bullshit rivalry with a boy you had once thought was really nice. Why had Junhyeon decided to pick on you that day? And why had you played along?

Embarrassed, you stand up from the circle and rush out of the practice room. You can hear Hoetaek call your name, but you just don't want to talk right now as you find your way to an empty practice room down the hall and step inside. Wiping your tears, you wonder why the boy that told you he liked your shoes on the first day had become such an affliction to your journey here.

Suddenly, the door bursts open and you're shocked to see Junhyeon standing in front of you looking quite distressed.

"(Y/N), I--," he starts, but you cut him off.

"Save it, Junhyeon. I'm just… I’m just gonna go home."

His eyebrows raise in shock. "What!? Why would you do that?"

“You said it yourself, Junhyeon,” you spit angrily, but your trembling bottom lip gives you away. “Nobody here likes me.”

"You--..." The boy in front of you swallows hard before softly shaking his head. “That’s not true.”

“Yes, it is,” you counter. “I know I can be too much of a perfectionist and it comes off harshly. I know I’m not great at making conversation— especially when there are so many extroverts here. And I know that I—.”

“I like you.”

You stare back at Junhyeon unblinkingly. “What?”

“It can’t be true that nobody likes you,” he explains, biting his bottom lip anxiously. “Because I like you.”

You’re not exactly sure what it is that Junhyeon is trying to confess. You study him, waiting for his expression to give away his intentions.

"I--... Ugh," he groans exasperatedly, leaning against the wall and sinking down to the floor. Head in his hands, he rubs his forehead as if he's relieving some tension before finally looking back up at you. "I'm sorry I've been so mean to you. But you wouldn't pay attention to me any other way. You just saw me as a nuisance then."

"I never stopped seeing you as a nuisance," you respond quietly.

"No, I became more than a nuisance. I'm a plague," he replies, nodding at you slowly. "Your own personal plague. And I'd do it all again if it meant you'd keep saying more than two words to me every day."

You suddenly feel entirely breathless as you process his words. Junhyeon's eyes are wide and earnest, lips parted as he seems to grapple with the confession himself. He looks innocent... almost cute like this, you catch yourself thinking. Just like you had thought he looked that first week. But as the shock fades, an immediate anger takes its place.

"Oh my god," you whisper, shaking your head in disbelief at the absolute idiot sitting in front of you with his knees hugged to his chest. "Where are we-- ... A playground? Are you five freaking years old!?"

Junhyeon starts to pout, raising his hand up to give you his signature aegyo but you swat it down before he can extend his five fingers.

"Don't you dare," you warn, narrowing your eyes as you frown at him in disapproval. Junhyeon sighs, pout remaining on his lips as he averts your gaze. "You must've talked to Gyuvin and Gunwook about this. Didn't either of them tell you that you were being a childish jerk!?"

Junhyeon nods sadly. "Yes. Many times."

"And you just decided not to believe them or?"

"Don't act like you don't know that Gyuvin, Gunwook and I share exactly one braincell. And if you'd experienced that braincell first hand, you wouldn't trust anything they say either!"

You tilt your head slightly as you consider it. "Okay, that is a valid point actually."

Junhyeon stands up now, taking a deep breath as he steadies himself on his feet. "I'm really sorry, (Y/N). None of what I said earlier was true. You're a bit intimidating, but it's just because you're so good at everything. Everybody thinks you're really cool-- including me. And..."

Your eyebrows raise expectantly as Junhyeon gives you a sheepish smile.

"And you're definitely not ugly either. Like, not at all. You're like... You're, like, really attractive," Junhyeon confesses clumsily. "And your breath actually smells really good, like, always. You smell really good in general. And sometimes you act really cute, too-- like when you think nobody's looking."

Your bottom lip tucks between your teeth involuntarily as the boy who's given you hell for the past month rambles quite passionately about how eye-catching he thinks you are.

"But I'm always looking," he finishes; throwing up his hands in defense as he reconsiders his words. "Not like in a creepy way though! I just meant, like--."

"Thanks," you say simply. "That's... thank you."

He nods quickly. "Yeah. You're welcome."

An uncomfortably awkward silence falls over both of you as you stare at each other. Finally, you gesture to the door.

"Uh, I guess we can probably--," you start to motion.

"Oh, yeah, for sure," Junhyeon agrees, walking to the door with you. You can't help but notice how glum the usually hyperactive boy looks now. And you also can’t lie that his rambling confession had sort of really made your heart flutter.

As you grab the handle, you pause for a moment and turn back to Junhyeon. "I'm sorry you felt like I thought you were a nuisance that first week. That wasn't my intention."

"Oh, it's okay--," he starts to brush off your apology humbly, but you interject quickly.

"I just had such a big crush on you that I could never figure out what to say," you finish, turning away immediately as you push the door open and step out into the hallway.

As expected, you don't hear footsteps behind you as you exit the room. What you do hear is the door to the practice room clicking closed, followed by the only slightly muffled sonic boom of Junhyeon shouting:

"LET'S GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!"

[doubledyke]

thanks moth @repurposedmeatlocker for tagging me cuz i always loved a good dress up game as a kid lol. i'll tag @mysticbeaver @owmylasagna-blog @gettingfrilly @greetingsfromuranus and @le0pard-pr1ncess @t-allyitup @say-no-to-magic and of course anyone else who wants to do it cuz im always curious to learn more about my eene pals.

im lee and this is a very flattering and cartoony depiction of my likeness. my interests include ed edd n eddy of course, and a handful of other animated shows. ive been teaching myself to draw so i guess that could count as an interest. music is of course a major interest of mine, specifically hip-hop, rnb, electronic and dancehall. im also into internet horror and generally anything weird/webcore, like florecitadreams and the uncanny valley. my other semi hyper-fixation is anything tim and eric make. oh and im into thrifting and fashion. personally, i like to dress like someone's older brother circa 2001, but i love all eras and styles. im fascinated by the countless extremely specific "aesthetics" that people come up with.

[gen-toon]

hopping on the train of saying that your art is p h e n o m i n a l

I don't use that word lightly, I mean that your art is so close to the cannon designs that it really feels like they're part of the show. Your designs of all these characters that I haven't really looked at (like the tadc background characters) were amazing and I think that you deserve to get attention from the original creators of what you draw because your depictions are so well done and created beautifully.

Keep up the perfect work and just remember that everyone following you thinks the same way :]

And also go drink water if you haven't yet

I'm really sorry I took so long to respond to this but this truly did blow me away that I didn't even know how to process it. And then had a kind of insecurity imposter syndrome crisis about it for a while n thus couldn't face it. But aside from that, I really, really appreciate the words. Honestly, this really does mean a hell of a lot to me. They make my year or life. I really had to show my friend like look look at this godly compliment I got, as I hide under the floorboards.

Ahh what. It might sometimes look like I know what I'm doing, but I assure you, I don't lmao. Reallyyy glad it looks toony though. My stuff is heavily inspired by 90s n early 2000's cartoons, so I'm glad it kind of shows. I think tadc has really brought it out of me really, since I never used to draw much comics or even that much slapstick previously, even despite drawing a lot of ed edd n eddy. But it's definitely all from what I've mainly absorbed from eene n some others. I have a lot to learn though. Anyway, absolutely KO'd, thanks so much man.

ghuhhhh shucks I'm dying, I can't handle it. That's so nice.

[polldermodel]

Luister je naar rap/hip hop muziek?

- Ja vaak, Nederlandse rap

- Ja vaak, Amerikaanse rap

- Ja vaak, rap uit een ander land dan NL of de VS

- Ja vaak, naar een combinatie van bovenstaande opties

- Soms, Nederlandse rap

- Soms, Amerikaanse rap

- Soms, rap uit een ander land dan NL of de VS

- Soms, naar een combinatie van bovenstaande opties

- Nee, maar ik vind het oké muziek

- Nee, en ik haat het genre

- Nee, en ik heb geen mening over de muziek/neutraal

[sigmxnd]

hopping on this train cause i can

they look weird not being furries but you know sometimes you gotta do it to 'em

also definitely gonna draw a non sketch transfem double d drawing. its pride month i can spread my propaganda legally now 😈😈🧨💥

(ANY EENE SHIPPERS DNIIIII EFF YOU)

[quinloki]

I am here to rescue you from whatever it is that has you down! As always, this runs long and the damn ask function will not allow me to do a keep reading cut so everyone else is just going to have to suffer.

Did I see something really cute today? Yes! Our local box turtle, a juvenile house wren, but most importantly the juvenile tufted titmouse. Why is this the important one? Well, the window bird feeder we have was running low on food and it was also raining today. Every time he landed, he'd hop into the feeder to eat the food.

Well, it's a wee bit slippery and he hasn't figured a lot of stuff out yet. Every time he landed int he feeder his legs splayed out in opposite directions. He kept hopping them back together only to end in the splits again. It was utterly hilarious. All those cartoons of characters having their legs go in different directions on ice were not inaccurate.

Is your pet adorable? Yes? I don't really have pets, I have plants. They are named: Lacey, Touchy McFeely, Jewels, Polydora, and Mapleine. Four out of five are succulents. Lacey has a crimped edge to her leaves. Touchy McFeely is a panda plant and all the leaves are fuzzy. Jewels is a jade tree. Polydora is a community of succulents in a single pot, and the name comes from Greek mythology. Polydora was an Amazon and as a tall lady myself, that was the Polydora I went with (there have been several people with the name in Greek myth).

And then we have Mapleine (pronounced maple-een, like Maybelline but with maple). Mom has informed me that mapleine is the chemical compound responsible for all artificial maple flavors. Why did I name the one plant I have that isn't a succulent this? I'm glad you asked. For some inexplicable reason, her leaves smell like maple syrup.

First time I smelled it I thought I was having a synesthetic moment. I was sitting at my desk (I keep her with me at my desk) and all of a sudden I was overwhelmed with maple syrup scents. I spent a good fifteen minutes trying to figure out what my trigger sense was. I gave up. I then sniffed my plant. It was her. MY PLANT SMELLS LIKE MAPLE SYRUP. No clue what kind of plant she is but damn is that fun. So Mom named her Mapleine. Whenever we smell maple now we say, "maybe it's mapleine."

If your blorbo was real, and appeared right besides you right now, how would you react? Well, I have more than one blorbo so let's tackle 'em one at a time, yeah?

Arlong—I'd probably scream and hit him with my baseball bat. In my defense, that would be terrifying but I'm in my PJs in bed and I have my dignity to preserve as a woman.

Benn "Fine Motherfucking Vintage" Beckman—drool.

Shanks—I'd probably just start poking him to see if he was really real and actually here.

Aramaki—I'd probably stare like a goof as I tried to figure out how he fit in the room.

Now for the non-One Piece blorbos:

Gildarts—I'd probably attack him first out of fright and then feel bad because the dude is missing half his limbs.

Laxus—same as Beckman's.

Skinny Might—probably introduce him to Tiny Might and inform him quite proudly that my Tiny Might can do something he can't: glow in the dark. I'd probably then explain why I have Tiny Might in the first place, tell him what he means to me, and offer him a place to sleep. I love Skinny Might. About as much as I love Beckman.

Aizawa—take pity on him and scooch over in bed so the man can finally sleep.

Hawks—probably going to touch the wings automatically and if he tries to leave tackle his ass to the ground. I guarantee I outweigh him and mark my words, I will be dragging him to bed one way or another.

Nanami—same as Beckman's.

Sorin Markov—I'd be deeply concerned honestly. The sudden appearance of a Planeswalker is not a good sign and he's the vampire planeswalker to boot. I also love him more than any other character in existence (besides Boromir but that's more of a platonic love), but I know he isn't fond of humans and he has a bad track record with women in particular. Knowing as much about him as I do, I'd probably inquire if he was okay and offer my assistance short of letting him feed on me (my period just ended but if it hadn't, I could technically feed him).

Tell me your three favorite things: These change because I don't know what favorite things is, it's too broad of a question. So, I'm giving you my three obsessions right now:

My professor and lest that sounds creepy, I greatly admire him as an academic and a person. I have a lot of respect for the guy and I enjoy looking into any of my professors' research because I like knowing what to expect and being able to learn from experts is awesome. I just bought two of his books too. I love my professor to pieces (platonically) but I disagree with him nearly across the board and I find it challenging to dissect things because we're in opposite camps (while in the same field), but at the same time I learn a lot even through disagreement and I get to learn how to disagree respectfully. Plus, Mom & I have decided that he isn't just one of the good professors, he's a fucking genius and I gotta make hay while the sun shines. I only have 13 or so weeks left to learn as much as I can because once this class concludes I will have taken all the classes he teaches at the Extension School. =( My time is extremely limited now.

Dystopian literature & films. This has been ongoing for awhile now but it has gone beyond just reading/watching for fun. I'm trying to construct my own online class for the genre, as if I were going to teach it at the Extension School. I've been trying to create the reading/watch list, craft a syllabus, and of course come up with the lectures. It's a ton of work but I actually want to teach a course on this (I'm not qualified, I'm just an undergrad). Since I cannot teach it at my school, I could just create it online outside of school and that is always a possibility but for now I am very much in the crafting stage.

Stand-up comedy. I have been reliably informed that I am the funniest member of my family. I also greatly enjoy doing impressions and have mastered a few...odd ones. And I do them better than anybody alive. It's a weird flex but it's what I've got (the other flex is coming in 8th place at a 6 person tournament). Alas, I cannot tell you what these impressions are, I'm building up a repertoire and will eventually debut them at open mic nights. I have to work on myself internally and get nerves/anxiety/panic attacks under control first, but I already have about a 2.5 minute routine ready to go. So when I get stuck in school or work I just start practicing my impressions. However, once I do debut them live (and Mom records the performance), I will happily share them.

There, do you feel a little bit better now? Have I made you smile or laugh at all? I'm sending you a hug as well and if you need more just let me know.

Oh that poor bird 😅Well, providing some entertainment to the people helping him get a meal probably isn't a bad trade off ^_^

Okay, I love the plants and their names \o/ Polydora is a great name for a collection of succulents - and I really love that it's a name that shows up more than once in mythology.

And Mapleine... ah, I'd love a plant that smells like maple. I have a set of runes made from Maple Wood and the scent is so calming sometimes I just put my nose in the bag and breathe when I need to relax a little.

I love that Arlong gets the bat, and Beckman gets drool XD The Skinny Might interaction is just adorable, and man hard same with Aizawa and Hawks, frankly.

I hope you get everything out of your esteemed professor in the time you have. May you, by happenstance or will, find yourself befriending him and having an opportunity to speak beyond class.

I would love to see your syllabus on Dystopian literature and films when you get it sorted out - if you're comfortable sharing it. Fates willing I would happily be a test subject for you ^_^

I look forward to the video as well, and I'm already very curious about who you're good at impersonating, but I will wait patiently 🥰

You managed to distract me, delight me, and help me relax all in one go ❤️ Thank you, my friend. Ah - who are other Polydoras in mythology? Are they all humans? Do they do amazing feats, or are they supportive pillars for those we deem heroes?

[gettingfrilly]

Please excuse me hopping back into your asks Afjfsgfh (-Edd dropping all the index cards he had-)

I think Folklore and Nevermore were great albums, they were written about fictional stories and I get immersed in that. So how bout another? The song "Seven" has really great recalls to childhood, that one friend you left the house with and how you can look back on those times fondly. I feel the same from EENE.

"Please picture me/ In the weeds/ Before I learned civility/ I used to scream ferociously/ Any time I wanted.."

I hope the brainrot, summer nostalgia does something for you...to you (?).. hey I just lurk here

I am plugging my ears with my fingers and going "NA NA NA NA NA NA NA NA"

[elysischedame]

Ik heb Steen ontmoet op een hip-hop feest en daarna ben ik met hem mee naar huis gegaan en hebben we geneukt, en ja ik ben zwanger, ja, en zero-positief. Nee, ik heb het hem niet verteld. ***

[crem-hc-icecream]

How did you escape Happy Country??? Please... I'm desperate...

-Happy Country Anon

nhhm? ‘Scap,e? Wel’l… ‘m not q,uite sur’e wha’ts truly h,appen’d to be ho,nest… Wa,s worki’n the s,hop norma,lly one da’y. T’hen, the,re w’as a big l,oud fla,sh of’ ligh,t n hheat, N the,n ‘mediat,ly it wen,t b’lack. Whe’n I c,ame to, I was r,ight whe’re I’d alwa,ys bee.n B,ut now the,re was an e’levator blo,ckin’ the fron,t o’ my st’ore! Th’ peo’ple tha,t ca’me out were n’ice enoug,h, but the’yre not t,he kin’d I’ve kno,wn. Com,e to thin,k of it…. I hav’ent even s,een ‘my k,ind walk’in th’ stree,ts ‘nymore afte,r that t’hing got her.e…

[nightfang22]

The Norski and the Themby-Chapter Three

A/N:I hope you're all enjoying and remember gently that I did write this when i was a teenager so it may not be the best.A special thanks to @p34ch-tr33 for all the support and adoration you have for my work.Enjoy!

Warnings:None

Word Count:2.6k

"Female lead vocalist?" I tilted my head in confusion. These were not words that I was familiar with. Tord cleared his throat and translated for me. "Je zou in onze band zingen. Ons belangrijkste evenement, als u wilt." ("You would be singing in our band. Our main event, if you will.") I gulped. "Ik weet het niet. Ik kan nog niet eens goed Engels spreken." ("I don't know. I can't even speak proper English yet.") Tord smiled and laughed. "Het is maar goed dat de meeste van onze liedjes Norsk zijn. En wat er ook in het Engels is, ik zal het je leren. Het zal gemakkelijker worden door de voortgang van onze bijlessessies, dat beloof ik." ("Well, it's a good thing that most of our songs are in Norwegian. And whatever is in English, I will teach you. It will become easier through the progression of our tutoring sessions, I promise.")  I chewed on my lip in thought. I wasn't completely fluent in Norsk but it was so close to Dutch that it couldn't be that hard to pick up on, right? And this seemed like it would be lots of fun. As I continued to contemplate, I heard Patryk gasp. Looking up at him, I saw him faint. That's when I tasted it. Blood. I had bit my lip so hard in thought that I must've accidentally bit through it. I ran my thumb across my bottom lip, smearing the ruby liquid on my finger. Shrugging, I licked it off like it was nothing. I looked at Tord and Paul. Paul was tending to the passed out Pat while Tord was still looking at me expectantly. He was waiting for an answer. Finally, I smiled and nodded once. The grin that broke out on Tord's face was adorable. It wasn't the usual cocky smirk I've seen all day. It was a real, goofy teenage boy smile.

Tord and I sat at his desk in his room as he tried to get me to comprehend the concept of cheese. "Okay, okay. It's like…chewy milk?" I asked, tilting my head slightly to the left. Pinching the bridge of his nose, Tord sighed. "Not quite but, you're getting closer." I rubbed my eyes and yawned sleepily. Tord turned his attention back to me, swiveling in his chair. "You're tired? Perhaps we should take a break." I could only manage a nod as I looked at the clock. It was half passed eight. My eyes bulged. "Faen! I'm late for dinner! Frost is going to kill me!" I yelped. I started hyperventilating. Tord put his hand on my shoulder and grabbed my chin, forcing me to look up at him. "Nei, he won't. I'll take you home and explain everything to your family. I'm sure that you're parents will be pleased with you making such a nice new friend." There it was again. That smirk. For his sake and mine, I hoped to Thor he was right. We hopped in his car and he drove me home. I gave him directions and it looked as though we didn't live terribly far from each other. At least cycling distance. We pulled up in front of my house. It wasn't much of a spectacle. It was painted a pretty shade of peach on the outside and it was two stories. Mine and Frost's rooms were on the second floor while our parents stayed on the ground floor. He got out and opened the door for me. He squeezed my wrist in reassurance but I was still very afraid. I opened the door slowly and walked to the kitchen, hoping that I hadn't missed dinner after all. Turns out, I was right on time. Papi was just setting the table and Moeder was pulling desert out of the oven. I internally sighed with relief. That's when a cough was heard behind me. I turned around to see Frost standing there with his arms crossed and glaring at Tord. "Nearly late." His Dutch accent pooled venom in his words. "But I'm home now. So you can chill." I muttered under my breath. "Papi, Moeder, Dette er min venn Tord. Kan han bli til middag?" ("Dad, Mother, This is my friend Tord. Can he stay for dinner?") My mother had this small smile on her face as she looked over at my father. He looked Tord up and down from head to toe before motioning for us to sit at the table. Tord took a seat next to me and Frost sat on my other side, glaring at his plate. I cleared my throat. "Um…could we maybe speak in English at dinner tonight? It would really help me practice." I looked around at everyone praying to Loki that I had used the right words. My parents beamed at me as they nodded their heads with excitement.

The usual dinner conversations began. My parents spent most of dinner asking Tord questions about himself, his family, his hobbies, etc. When Tord mentioned that he was in a band, my father's eyes sparkled. Oh no. Here it comes. I looked over at Frost and he looked over at me as we sank into our seats lowly as our father began recounting the days of his mariachi band 'The Cobras'. "Papi, you're embarrassing me." I mumbled. Tord just chuckled as he saw my bright pink complexion. "So, Tord. What kind of band are you in?" My father asked. It was Tord's turn to get excited. A grin broke out across his face as he started talking about his Norski rock band. I tuned in when I heard Tord say my name. "And Lyric has so kindly agreed to be our lead vocalist. They have an excellent voice. You have one talented star on your hands Mr. and Mrs. Aries." Tord said, smiling. It was a genuine smile. I could even see a gap in his two front teeth that I'd never noticed before. It was kind of cute, if I'm honest. I blushed at the thought. My parents beamed at the compliment. "Please, you can call us mom and dad if you like. Any friend of Lyric's is family." My mother threw in. I hid my face by pushing my frijoles around with a fork and looking down. "Mom." I whined through my teeth. This only managed to make Tord chuckle more. "So, you're part of a band now, Paardebloem. That's pretty exciting!" Moeder tried changing the subject once she realized I was flushed and embarrassed. Tord smirked at me a quirked a brow up. "Paardebloem?" I bit my lip which was still sore from earlier. I could only nod. "We call them that because they loved dressing up as a paardebloem when they were a little kid." My mother supplied. My face's shade visibly darkened. "So, do you guys have a practice schedule or anything?" Tord nodded. "Every day after school from 3 to 7. And I'm tutoring Lyric in English so that could always take place after until about 9 if that's alright." Frost looked as if he was about to interject when my father butted in. "Absolutely! You keep them as late as you want! I'm just glad they are finally leaving the house!" My father laughed. My brother's jaw dropped. "But Dad! They're teenagers! They could be lying! What if he's just trying to use her? He's no good, Pops!" My jaw dropped at his words. "Jij klootzak!" ("You son of a bitch!") I stood abruptly. Tears were beginning to well in my eyes. My brother had never acted to rudely before. The Frost I know couldn't even hurt a fly let alone call someone he just met 'no good' or a 'liar'. "Papi, Moeder. May we be excused?" I held back a sniffle as a tear ran down my left cheek, tracking black eyeliner with it. My father looked taken aback by Frost and looked to my mother. She was tight lipped but nodded. Frost went to stand and Papi's hand shot out to grab his wrist across the table. "Not you, young man. We need to have a serious talk about your behavior and how it's affecting your sibling." He said sternly. Frost glared but nodded, returning to his chair.

As I turned to head towards the front door, Tord's wrist in my hand, my mother spoke up. "Why don't you show Tord around, Paardebloem? You can show him your studio if you'd like?" My face flushed pink. I softly smiled while nodding. I detached from Tord to give my mother a hug. She rubbed my back comfortingly and gave me one last squeeze before whispering in my ear. "Just don't be too hard on your legs, okay?" I nodded softly as I pressed a kiss into her hair. She let me go and I asked Tord if he'd like a tour. He nodded and I looped my arm in his, starting for the living room. "So this is the living room. That's my Papi's recliner," I pointed to the periwinkle velvet chair in front of the tv, "and that's my Moeder's loveseat." I gestured to the purple mini couch next to the bookshelf filled with Dutch romance novels. "What's that?" Tord asked. I turned my head to see what he was talking about. He was staring at the wall of family photos. I tugged him over to it. 'This is what my Papi refers to as "The Aries Family Wall of Fame'. Anybody important enough to be on this wall is drilled into our family forever." I looked up at Tord. He was looking at all of the photos of my family. We all looked quite a lot alike. I noticed his eyes straying back to one specific photo. "Who's this?" He asked. I peered closer at the photo. It was my little sister, TJ. "Oh, that's my little sister. She died when she was one." I said. He looked apologetic. I shook my head. "It’s okay. I was only four when it happened and I barely remember it. Come on. There's more to see." I pulled him all around the house. I showed him my mom's office where she spends all day writing her novels, my dad's piano room, my brother's indoor batting cage, etc. That's when we came to my room. Honestly, I was kind of nervous to show Tord my room. I mean this is my sanctuary. It represents everything that I am in one room. I took a deep breath as we entered. "And this is my room." I walked in before him and outstretched my arms. He looked around the room almost fondly. Tord observed the posters and framed sketches on my wall. "These are incredible. Your room is really nice." He complimented. "Thank you but we're not done yet." I grabbed his hand and led him to a ladder under a hatch on the ceiling. He looked at me quizzically as I grinned. I pulled down the hatch and climbed up the ladder, motioning for him to follow. We were now in what looked to be an observatory. All rounded glass doming is what constructed the room and everywhere you looked there was some type of artistic medium. There were easels and canvases and paint. There was a computer for digital art. There was a mic stand and amps with a DJ set up. Anything artistic that you could think of, I had it. "This is my studio." I said. I flopped down on one of the chairs in front of my mic set up and Tord joined me, looking around the room in awe. "This is amazing. You must spend a lot of time here, yeah?" I nodded my head looking up at the stars through the glass ceiling. "It's the one thing that no one can ever take away from me." I looked at Tord and he was looking at me with a soft smile. "I'm surprised that your english is so good." I nodded my head. "These are all words that Frost has used with me before." Then I remembered his actions downstairs and at school. "Also I'm really sorry that he was so rude to you. He's not usually like that." I looked at my hands in my lap. Tord came over and sat on the arm of the chair I was in. "Hey, it's okay. Really. People usually have a bad first impression of me. I'm used to it." I looked up at him and he was really close. Subconsciously, I leaned in closer for a better look. I hadn't noticed before but Tord had a light dusting of freckles across his cheeks. He had a pretty sharp jawline as well. His eyes were a gorgeous silver color in the direct light. He was beautiful. I felt his hand find it's way into my hair and he started to lean in. His eyes were heavily lidded and he mumbled something in Norwegian. "Hm?"

There was a knock on the hatch and we broke apart. I opened it to see Frost. "Ja?" I asked. He looked from me to Tord with distrustful eyes. Frost had never looked at me like that before. It was almost scary. "Mom and dad say it's time for Tord to go but you have permission to go to his house or he can come here as much as you both would like." He grumbled as he climbed back down my ladder. I looked at Tord apologetically. He waved a dismissive hand. "It is pretty late and a school night. I'll see you in class tomorrow?" He asked as he walked back downstairs with me. I nodded. "Yeah, want me to walk you to your car?" I asked. He nodded and said his goodbyes to my brother and my parents. Frost just crossed his arms and huffed while my father shook his hand happily and my mother hugged him, telling him he could come by as much as he'd like and that he was such a nice young man and that we'd make adorable babies. "Moeder!" I grabbed Tord's hand dragging him out of the house as fast as I could. We walked up to his car and he looked at me. It was silent for a second. He cleared his throat. "I uh, I guess I'll see you tomorrow. Bye, Lyric." He waved before climbing in his car. That's when something hit me. "Wait!" He turned to look at me. "When we were upstairs, in my studio. You said something but I didn't hear you. What did you say?" He chuckled. Walking closer to me, he put one hand on my cheek while the other held my waist, pulling me flush against him. "I said, 'Pokker, du er vakker, løvetann'." ("Damn you're beautiful, dandelion.") That's when he did it. He leaned in, closing his eyes, and kissed me. It was my first kiss. My eyes fell shut as I kissed back. He tasted like cinnamon and spice. The kiss ended all too soon for my liking. "I'll see you tomorrow, løvetann~." And with that, he got in his car and drove away. I walked back inside to see that my mom was grinning at me. Before she could bombard me with questions, I ran up to my room. I flopped down on my bed, staring at the ceiling. I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket. It was a text from Tord.

Tord: Yes, I still have your bike and yes, I'm picking you up for school tomorrow. You won't be biking to school ever again if I have anything to say about it. ;)

I giggled and just sent back a smiley face. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad.

[beerspanl]

6 redenen om de Good Beer Spa te bezoeken en waarom u Beer Spa-therapie moet volgen

Stel je een plek voor waar de rijke geschiedenis van het brouwen gepaard gaat met de rust van een spa, waardoor een ervaring ontstaat die het normale leven volkomen overstijgt. Van verwennerij tot ontspanning, in dit verhaal gaan we op de reis van bierspatherapie. Dit concept overstijgt het louter brandmerken van hoe heerlijk bier en welzijn in plaats daarvan voor u kunnen worden gecoöpteerd.

Betreed een ruimte waar de gouden gloed van bier het warme comfort van warmwaterbronnen ontmoet. En het is niet alleen maar een leuk toevluchtsoord; er is een nieuwe manier om te ontspannen die zowel fysiek verkwikkend is als behoorlijk geruststellend voor de geest. Laten we de bierspa in Brussel eens in detail bekijken.

Uniek spatherapieconcept:

Ten eerste biedt de Good Beer Spa een individueel en ander soort spa-therapieconcept dan je in andere winkels aantreft. Centraal in het concept staat het 'bierbad': een kans voor gelukkige feestgangers om te ontspannen in een poel met zorgvuldig bereid warm water en pils.

Deze unieke vorm van therapie streeft ernaar de verfrissende effecten van bier te interpreteren als een genezende eigenschap op zichzelf, waarbij de logica erachter vrijwel gelijk staat aan de traditionele westerse geneeskunde.

Huidverjonging met bier:

Eén reden om, althans gedeeltelijk, een bierspabehandeling te zoeken, zijn de voordelen van de huidverzorging. De Good Beer Spa selecteert bieren van hoge kwaliteit met een rijke moutsmaak, waarvan wordt gedacht dat ze voedende antioxidatiesequenties en vitamines voor de huid bevatten. Met de twee samen, badend in warmte en bier, blijft de huid vochtig en zijdezacht, een zoet gevoel van wedergeboorte.

Stressverlichting en ontspanning:

De bierspa-therapie gaat verder dan de voor de hand liggende fysieke voordelen en is ontworpen voor mentale ontspanning en stressverlichting. De hulpverlenende ingrediënten van het bier zorgen voor een vredige sfeer: toevoegingen als hop zorgen voor rustgevende omzwervingen op de omweg van het leven.

Met een vriendelijke glimlach op het gezicht kan de warme en gastvrije sfeer in de spahal het algemene ontspanningsniveau verhogen. Dit is een ideale plek voor een korte onderbreking van uw drukke schema.

Aromatherapie en ontmoet de zintuigen:

Bij de bierspatherapie van het merk zijn alle zintuigen betrokken. Wanneer gasten in een bierbad wegzakken, dompelen ze zich onder in een wereld van geuren. We combineren deze aromatische ervaring met het tastbare plezier van het onderdompelen in warm, rustgevend bier.

Daarom verbetert het de spa-therapie voor een werkelijk wonderbaarlijk gevoel. Gasten worden uitgenodigd om het zintuiglijke avontuur aan te gaan en te eindigen met een bezoek aan de Good Beer Spa in Brussel, dat in sommige gevallen werkelijk onuitwisbare herinneringen achterlaat!

Aanpasbare spa-pakketten:

De Good Beer Spa biedt verschillende aanpasbare spa-arrangementen voor gasten die hun ervaring op maat willen maken. Of u nu een bierliefhebber bent die zoveel mogelijk tijd aan het bierbad wil doorbrengen of gewoon op zoek bent naar beide, de spa biedt allerlei mogelijkheden.

U kunt kiezen uit een volledig assortiment massageruimtes, maar de spa biedt ook gezichtsbehandelingen en traditionele saunatherapieën. Gasten kunnen hun spa-agenda afstemmen op hun ontspanningsdoelen.

Sociale en plezierige ervaring:

Biertherapie in de Good Beer Spa is niet alleen een ervaring van individuele ontspanning, maar ook een sociaal en ontspannen avontuur. De spa is perfect voor vrienden, geliefden of zelfs individuele reizigers om samen te komen en te genieten van de unieke charme van bierspatherapie. Het gelach en het gezelschap tijdens deze spasessies zijn een welkome ervaring die het waard is om te onthouden.

Conclusie

De combinatie van de pittige smaak van bier en de verfrissende kwaliteit van water is wat de Good Beer Spa hoopt dat uw problemen zal wegnemen - hoewel de waarheid wordt verteld, gebeurt dit één voor één. Good Beer Spa is een vakantie die zowel lichaam als geest nieuw leven inblaast. Dus als u op zoek bent naar een goede bierspa in Brussel, dan bent u hier aan het juiste adres.

Zorg ervoor dat u door het assortiment prachtige houten accessoires van GoodBeer Craft bladert voordat je weggaat. Deze unieke items belichamen een heerlijke en tijdloze charme, waardoor uw kleding een boost krijgt en u met vertrouwen een statement kunt maken.

[bramsnor]

Hallo Kato hier, ik dacht weekend, uitslapen, alles lekker rustig. Vergeet het, vrouwtje vroeg beneden en naar buiten. Oké prima ik pis wel en desnoods een geurige sigaar ook nog. Maar toen kwam het pas, kijk ik weet dat ik wel eens last van angstzweet heb, en dat ze dat niet fijn vinden ruiken. Maar dat ik gedoucht zou worden, daar had ik niet op gerekend.

Maar het was wel erg lekker dat warme water op mijn bontjas, werd heerlijk ingezeept door het vrouwtje en gemasseerd, echt heerlijk. En daarna afgespoeld met warm water, echt super👍. Mocht ik me even uitschudden in die glazen kooi, ja mooi niet, daar heb ik meer ruimte voor nodig, ha ha. Toen werd ik lekker afgedroogd, toptien.

Toen mocht ik naar beneden en ging zij zelf geloof ik. Ze kwam wat later tenminste opgedoft binnen. Kreeg ik als toetje nog een borstelbeurt. Toen ben ik in slaap gedoezeld heerlijk. Opeens hoorde ik mijn riem rammelen en mocht ik mee naar buiten. Kwam goed uit, was wel toe aan een “sigaar” draaien, en toen dacht ik moet wat terug doen. Ik heb een tak gepakt en heb ik de gehele tijd gedragen tot thuis toe, nou ik zag de baas trots kijken naar me.

In de middag begonnen ze beide ineens opgedoft te gaan verzamelen van allerlei pakketjes, en mocht ik mee in dat koekblik. Helaas schrok ik me te pletter van die wisser hop de achteruit, dus ik naar voren. Maar dat pikte die Snor niet, ik moest terug achterin. Toen zijn we met een tussenstop naar dat minimensje gereden. Die bleek jarig en was flink gespannen net als ik trouwens. Wat een mensen kwamen daar, en allemaal met van die pakketten. En die “mini” maar enthousiast uitpakken. Helaas er zat niets voor mij bij, hooguit een super lekker uitziende taart waar ik niets van kreeg grrrr.

Na verloop van tijd mocht ik met de baas daar ook mee naar buiten. Nou dat vond ik weer niks, wat een pestherrie in die nepstad. Jankende sirenes, rare geluiden van een lang stalen ding op stalen wielen en hier en daar van die pestklappen met lichtflitsen. Maar die “ouwe” doet net of tie niets hoort en loopt gewoon door net als van de week bij die schreeuwende en jankende verzamelplein van minimensjes.

En al die mensen van die pakjes wilde ook nog aan mijn bontjas voelen, opzouten ik vertrouw jullie niet. En dan nog een paar van die rumoerige minimensjes, is allemaal wel wennen hoor, maar heb mij kranig gedragen en heb nu weer heerlijk mijn rust gevonden in mijn nieuwe thuis waar ik morgen alweer twee weken mag wonen. Zo nog even een plasronde en dan de dag verwerken tijdens mijn welverdiende nachtrust.

Kato 🐕

[bogdanklimowicz]

Kerstmenu. . “(KERSTMENU vegetarisch - AARDPEER - I tallegio | ricotta creme | waterkers | hazelnoot | - *** - GNOCCHI - | zeesla | gepocheerd ei | reggiano | paprika | - *** - TARTE TATIN - | witlof | bapao | duxelles | pastinaak | truffelroom | - *** - CHOCOLADE - | cremeux | framboos | moelleux | mandarin|)” “CHRISTMAS MENU vegetarian - Jerusalem artichoke - I tallegio | ricotta cream | watercress | hazelnut | - *** - GNOCCHI - | sea ​​lettuce | poached egg | reggiano | paprika | - *** - TARTE TATIN - | chicory | bapao | duxelles | parsnip | truffle cream | - *** - CHOCOLATE - | cremeux | raspberry | moelleux | mandarin|)” . Ate… in Tilburg on Thursday… a Christmas Menu, at De Nieuwe Vorst. . Drank… a Corsendonk Christmas Ale beer brewed by Brouwerij Corsendonk. Advertised as “This typical deep red-brown end-of-year beer was made from roasted special malts, the finest hops and selected yeasts and seasoned with a hint of coriander. Corsendonk Christmas gives the best of what a Christmas beer can give, a round balanced taste with a dry and refined adonk.” . Listened… to Ik wil een huisdier by Kinderen voor Kinderen. What title song would you ask them to play? . Singing… “(Ik wil een hond, ik wil een hamster. Een konijn of een parkiet. Of desnoods wel een kanarie. Maar ik mag 't allemaal niet. Maar wat ik niet begrijpen kan. Het doet me heel veel pijn. Bij ons staat op het kerstmenu. Als hoofdgerecht konijn.)” “I want a dog, I want a hamster. A rabbit or a parakeet. Or maybe a canary. But I can't do it all. But what I can't understand. It hurts me a lot. It's on our Christmas menu. Main dish rabbit.” . Cinecitta, Willem II straat 29, Tilburg, Netherlands (Nederland). . . . . . #kerstmenu #christmasmenu #kerst #christmas #vegetarian #vega #gnocchi #lunch #dinner #supper #food #drink #corsendonkchristmasale #brouwerijcorsendonk @brouwerijcorsendonk #cinecitta @cinecitta.tilburg #ristobar29 @ristobar29 #waartilburgeet @waartilburgeet #tilburgfood #tilburgdrink #lokalezaken #willemii #tilburg #nederland #netherlands #holland . #bogdanklimowicz #foodie #foodblogger #ikwileenhuisdier #kinderenvoorkinderen . (at Cinecitta) https://www.instagram.com/p/Cmq1FNtqt4m/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=