#I was there when she picked out Selkie at the shelter :) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

monstersandmaw · 4 years

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Orctober #11 ‘snow’ - male ice orc x female reader (nsfw)

Edit which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me.

Despite me being 'on a break' from Patreon (ie. no one except for brand new subscribers was billed) for November while I work on my novel, here's a 7.7k word orc story. As always with me, it's a bit plotty and very fluffy, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless. I said on Discord too that the reader's best friend is a yeti, and his design is based on the yeti from 'The Mummy: Tomb Of The Dragon Emperor' who are adorable fluffy goofballs.

So, here's my late Orctober offering for you, featuring one Giant Fluff, eight smaller fluffs (huskies), three bigger fluffs (snow-bears), fluffy cliches, fluffy snow, and one Big Gentle(tm)... The reader is female, but for ~90% of it gender isn’t mentioned. It’s really only in the nsfw bit at the end…

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With a shiver you stepped outside, the snow squeaking and crunching eerily beneath your too-thin boots, and you drew the soft fur of your jacket up around your neck. Squinting through your clouding breath, you blinked, eyelashes icing up before you had gone more than three paces, and the inside of your nose was quite literally frozen, but it didn’t matter. Selkie Rock Point was one of the most northerly villages on the continent, and not counting the various nomadic peoples who lived even further north, it was one of the last places to find permanent shelter and warmth. It was also home.

Tradewatch sat a little further south along the coast, and in the winter the great ice-breaker ships with their dwarven-forged metal prows could still get through until relatively late in the year, but up here you were locked in by sea ice much earlier.

You’d grown up here, the middle child of one of a handful of human families in a village comprised mostly of selkies and white-furred bear-folk, centaurs, cervitaurs, werewolves and other shifters. Most of the people who lived up here had thick fur or a natural resistance to the cold. Your siblings had left to go to the larger towns further south, but you still bred sled dogs in the house where your parents and grandparents had done the same thing.

Now, as you trudged on foot down to the store to stock your nearly empty cupboards up on essentials, a fresh flurry of snow swirled around you and you narrowed your eyes. If you breathed too deeply, it bit into the back of your throat, but you were relatively used to the cold by now.

Out of the murk of the perpetual twilight that choked this part of the world in the winter, you began to make out the large, dark shape of perhaps a centaur. The closer they got, the more details you could pick out, until you finally figured out who it was and called out to them. “Linny! Hey!”

The huge, dapple grey centaur, swaddled up in layers of coats and fur too, startled a little, but laughed. She had a dark fur hat on over her ice blonde hair, and all you could see of her face was a pair of dark brown eyes, her lashes also rimed with ice. “Hey,” she laughed back once she’d recovered her composure. On her back, already covered in a layer of snow, were two large panniers, though they looked empty despite the fact that she was returning from the shop.

“Everything alright?” you asked. Something felt wrong about the way she moved, a strange tension seeping through the air, though you weren’t quite sure what it could be.

She shuffled. “Yeah, just… uh… there are some ice orcs at the general store… I… I didn’t get very close. I thought I’d come back later. From what I heard, they’re only passing through on their way south.”

“Oh.”

Ice orcs.

There were a number of clans of the grey-blue skinned orcs living this far north, and they had a reputation for being vicious, bloody-minded raiders, though not all of them were. A few of them were trappers and hunters by trade, earning their living by taking their sleds pulled by huge snow-bears down to Tradewatch and then across to Eyrie Point. Sometimes they passed through this little collection of houses on their way through, but they rarely stopped to talk or share the time of day with anyone.

“Fuck, it’s freezing,” you hissed as the wind bit at your exposed cheeks.

“Don’t let me keep you,” she said. “I’ll see you at the Whisky Tumbler tonight?” she added with a swish of her tail.

You nodded. “I’ll be there.”

As much as you were nervous of the orcs too, you really needed some more food, so you ploughed on through the deep snow, eventually arriving at the Selkie Rock general store. Outside it were three loaded sleds, and each one was hitched up to a colossal snow-bear. Muzzled, though not cruelly, the bears were either lounging around in the powder like a seal on a summer beach, or, in the case of the one at the front, sitting alertly, rounded ears pricked, nose snuffing at the scents on the wind.

Giving them a wide, cautious berth, you swallowed apprehensively and scuttled into the shop, glancing over your shoulder at them. As you yanked back the heavy door and stepped inside, you collided instantly with something as solid as an iceberg. As you bounced off and your arse hit the half frozen floorboards of the deck outside the shop, you gazed directly up into the face of a truly huge ice orc.

He didn't look amused.

Before you could process what had happened, a colossal hand reached down for you and grabbed the front of your jacket, and you were hoisted off the ground and set back on your feet. “You ok?” he rumbled, taking half a step back so that you weren’t cricking your neck so much. “Didn’t see you down there,” he laughed quietly. His stern expression melted a little under the gesture. “Did you hurt yourself?”

“Uh… No… No, I’m good,” you faltered, resisting the urge to rub your right arse-cheek which still smarted from your tumble.

Fuck, he was really big. And actually, as you looked more closely at him, really handsome.

“Well, that’s good,” he said and stepped back a little more, ushering you inside the store. “Come in before you let all the snow in then.”

“Right.”

As you moved into the relative warmth of the shop, you saw two more ice orcs behind him. The first - the one with which you’d just had your head-on collision - had long black hair, pulled off his face in a single braid that was studded with bone, ivory, and metal beads and hung down to the middle of his back. His animal skin and fur jacket was toggled up the front with more carved horn, and his boots were the soft, reindeer pelt ones traditional with the ice orcs who herded the reindeer a little further south. You assumed, from that and from the sleds outside with their burdens covered against the driving snow, that he was a trapper and trader himself.

The others were a little smaller than him in size, but no less intimidating. Where his skin was a stormy slate grey, the female’s was a shade or two darker, and the male beside her wasn’t an ice orc at all, but had the green skin of their much more southerly cousins. They were still impressive though, and as you let your gaze sweep over them for a couple of seconds, they grinned at you in a way that was surprisingly friendly. Ice orcs usually had an aura of menace to them, but these two seemed relaxed, and as the male looped his arm affectionately around her waist, you realised that they were together.

The female chuckled suddenly and you noticed that she was staring at the largest of the three of them, standing right next to you. “Hey, boss… are we gonna head off, or are you gonna stare at this little human some more…?”

Surprised, you glanced up at him and found that his warm, brown eyes were locked on your face. “Uh,” he grunted. “Yeah. Sure. We’ve got goods to deliver. Uh… take care, ok?” he added at you as he scratched the back of his head with his un-gloved right hand.

“You too,” you chirped with a smile and walked away towards the back of the shop, heart hammering.

When you reached the selkie standing at the back of the shop, he looked at you with wide blue eyes and puffed his cheeks out in relief. “You’ve got balls of permafrost, my friend. I thought they were never going to leave,” he said shakily.

“They cause any trouble?” you asked, puzzled.

“Oh no,” he said, flapping his hands and glancing at the closed door. “No, they were very polite. It’s just… you know… they’re ice orcs! I thought they’d skin me if the price was disagreeable or something… I’ve not seen these ones here before, you see?”

You’d been about to quip that he’d read too many tabloid papers about their kind, but then you recalled that his entire clan had been almost completely wiped out a couple of generations back by an ice orc summer raiding party, so you clamped your mouth shut quickly enough to make your teeth click and smiled awkwardly.

It was only then that you noticed how bare the shelves were.

“Aleq,” you asked softly, and when he saw where your eyes were directed, he sighed.

“Yeah,” he said. “I’m sorry. The delivery didn’t come this week, so we’re running out of stuff now. I was going to ask Linny if she’d mind helping me with the sled, but I haven’t seen her yet… She usually comes today.”

You nodded. You knew that there was the permafrost cavern at the other end of town which held emergency supplies, so folks weren’t in danger of starving just yet, but without the delivery, people would be going hungry. “She was intimidated by the orcs and decided to come back later,” you explained. “I met her on her way over here.”

“Damned orcs,” he cursed, though he slow to anger. “What am I going to do?” he asked, his huge dark eyes full of fear as he stared at you.

Aleq wasn’t very tall, perhaps in his late thirties, and he carried the usual soft layer around his belly and chin that most selkies did, and in that moment he looked more like a chubby, frightened puppy than an adult. “I’ll go,” you found yourself saying. “I’ve got the dogs. I can make it to Tradewatch before the light fails. I’ll arrange a new delivery and be back in the morning. Hopefully they’ll be coming with me…”

“Oh, bless you,” he said, and you had to go round the counter and hug him because he looked so relieved.

Once you emerged, you found that the ice orcs had departed, their bears and sleds leaving their tracks in the snow as they headed south out of the village. Having bought very little in the end at Aleq’s, you returned home and began to make preparations for your journey to Tradewatch.

It didn’t take you long to hitch up a team of your fastest and smartest dogs. As you patted the lead bitches and worked your way down the line to where the sled was tied to a peg driven deep into the snow - else they might have taken off without you in their enthusiasm - you gave each dog a cuddle before stepping onto the back and stamping down on the bar which served as a break. It had big metal teeth in it which bit down into the compacted snow under your bodyweight, and allowed you to unhitch the tether without flying off at a hundred miles an hour.

At your signal to get ready, the dogs began a chorus of yapping and barking in their excitement to get going. No matter that you’d done this your whole life, it still gave you a thrill when you said, “Ready? Let’s go!”

You’d modified the sled with a slot that would hold your compass, and as you ran your fur mitten over the domed surface to clear it of snow and fog, you called ‘haw’ for them to take the left of the two paths in the snow up ahead, and the lead girls nudged round to follow it. They wanted to run and since it was only perhaps thirty miles, you let them set their own pace to start with. Any further than twenty-five to thirty miles, and you’d have regulated their pace more strictly, slowing them to a steady, ground-chewing trot. But you knew your team, and they trusted you.

It took just over three hours to reach Tradewatch, and the light was fading. As you drew up alongside the large inn which sat right in the centre of the wide harbour, your dogs’ tongues lolled but they wagged and looked like they could easily have run another twenty miles. You took your time with them, making sure they were all comfortable, before lashing the sled to a specifically placed tether, and stumping inside the familiar inn.

The folks at Tradewatch knew most of those from Selkie Rock Point, and the big, looming, white-furred yeti behind the counter spread his arms and boomed a greeting at you as you entered, sliding your hood back off your wind-bitten face.

“It’s good to see you too, Hugo!” you chuckled as he shimmied out from behind the bar like an excited cub and strode across the nearly empty room to sweep you up into his fluffy arms.

“It’s been ages!” he said, and you wriggled wildly and squealed as he snuffled affectionately at your neck.

“Oh my god you’re such a beast!” you yelled at your childhood best friend. “Get off! Stop! Get off!!” and you smacked him on the arm.

Laughing, he set you back down and stood back, beaming. His short, almost feline muzzle was split into a warm grin, revealing his pronounced canines. His kind and intensely blue eyes bored into yours and he asked, “What brings you here?”

“We didn’t get our food delivery this week, so I came to see what’s going on and try and get something sent out soon.”

His fluffy brows knitted together and his pink, feline nose twitched. “Shit,” he said. And then he gasped, “Oh! Did you bring the doggos?!”

With a laugh, you nodded. “I wondered how long it’d take you to ask. Yes, they’re round the side. Any chance I can stay for the night, by the way?”

“Of course!” he said as he barrelled for the door without looking back. A second later a chorus of excited yipping and howling rose and you shook your head.

“Well, I know where I rank at least…” you said to yourself, looking around the bar for the first time since entering. There in the corner were the three ice orcs from the general store that morning. “Hi,” you said nervously when you realised they'd been watching the spectacle that you and Hugo had made of yourselves.

The big one smiled at you and raised his pewter tankard, while the female whispered something to the other that made him bark out a harsh, amused laugh, and the big one flashed them a look which they both ignored.

Deciding to leave, you found that Hugo had tangled himself and all the dogs up in the lines, and it took you nearly a quarter of an hour to extricate them all. Bashfully sitting in a paw-print patterned snow drift, Hugo looked up at you. “Sorry.”

You had to laugh. “I missed you.”

He rose and helped you kennel the dogs, and once you were done, he said, “Come on, let’s get you inside and warmed up. I’ll bring out something for the dogs now that they’ve had a bit more of a rest.”

“Just add it to my overnight tab, Hugo,” you said firmly, knowing full well that the enormous fluffball was very likely to gift the meat to you and the dogs. He waved a huge hand and you followed him back inside, moving through the bar again on your way upstairs.

As he showed you up to your room, you asked, “The three ice orcs you’ve got downstairs… they were in Selkie Rock this morning.”

“Oh?” he said over his colossal shoulder, carrying your very modest overnight bag upstairs for you. “They cause any trouble?”

“No, none at all,” you said. “How long have they been here? They can’t have left much before I did.”

“An hour or so?” he said. “Why?”

You raised your eyebrows. “Those bears can really run…” you said.

He laughed. “They’ve ‘kennelled’ them - if that’s even the right word for something so big - in the big cages at the back. They’re very polite actually. The female loves to have her ears rubbed, apparently.”

“You’ve tried?” you asked, impressed.

Again, Hugo’s rumbling laugh filled the narrow corridor as he led you to the guest room in his own part of the building, instead of those on the ground floor for travellers. It had always been like this since he moved away from Selkie Rock Point, and you had never questioned it. “I asked them, and the big guy said it was fine to pet them while he was there, but if I valued my arm, I shouldn’t touch her otherwise.”

“Right…” you said rather shakily. Yeti weren’t exactly fragile either.

“Listen, why don’t you get settled in and then come down and grab some food and a drink and we can catch up?” he said, holding the door open for you.

You ducked under his muscular arm and he followed you inside stooping low so as not to scrape his head on the door frame and lingering just long enough to put your bag at the foot of the double bed.

“I have to go and talk to the supplier before they close for the day,” you said regretfully. “I’ll have time for that when I get back, ok?”

He smiled. “Sure.”

You hugged your oldest friend, burying your cheek against his soft stomach - he was nine feet tall after all - and heard him rumble something as he placed his big hands on your back. “I’ve missed you,” you said softly.

“Yeah, I’ve missed you too,” he said, ruffling your hair.

As you re-entered the bar, you caught the way the big orc scowled at you two, but you ignored it and said, “I’ll be back, hopefully in under an hour. I need to hear all about that human you told me you were dating…”

Hugo’s small, pointed ears pulled back against his head and he growled bashfully.

“You’re still together, right?” you asked.

He nodded. “Yeah,” he grinned, love-struck as a spring faun.

You punched him in the stomach, though it had no more effect on him than a light tap would have done to you, and said, “You’re such a dork. I’ll see you later.”

Casting one final look at the orcs, you smiled at the big handsome one and set about sorting out the delayed food order.

In the end, it turned out that their usual delivery driver had broken her leg and wasn’t able to make the journey, and that they didn’t have anyone else at the moment who could make the run. “Our other teams are all out at the moment on long-distance runs,” the fluffy satyr said, terribly embarrassed at the mix-up. “It’s all sitting in the warehouse ready to go, but I had no way of contacting you…”

With a sigh, you said, “Is there no other sled for hire at the moment?”

“Come back tomorrow morning and I’ll see who’s available then,” he said. “But I can’t make any promises. With the winter being as bad as it has been, and now with Fi off work…”

“I understand,” you said tightly. It really wasn’t his fault, but people were going to get hungry. “I’ll see you tomorrow at nine.”

Disheartened, you stumped back to the inn, and while you and Hugo shared drinks and the most amazing food, cooked by his business partner who ran the domestic side of the inn, you shared your worries about the supplies.

“What will you do?” he asked. “I mean, you’ve only got a team of eight dogs… you can’t take enough food for the rest of the winter back to Selkie Rock on your own…”

You shrugged. And then at the exact same time as heavy footfalls sounded behind you on the floorboards of the inn, an idea struck you. You turned around and there, approaching the pair of you with a shy expression on his face, was the big ice orc.

“So…” he said meekly. “I couldn’t help overhearing that you’re in a bit of a bind…?”

“You could say that again,” you said. “Would you and your friends be able to help us out?”

“Yeah,” he said. “We should be able to take it between the three of us,” he smiled. “If you’d like…?”

“My hero!” you grinned and he laughed. It wasn’t far off the depth of Hugo's deep rumble but the sound of it went straight through you and kindled a heat in you that you’d not felt in a long time.

“We’d be happy to help out. Shall we come with you to the warehouse tomorrow?”

“You’re sure?” you asked with a quick look at the other two in the corner. They grinned at you and both offered you a thumbs up, which you thought a bit odd, but at one glance from their leader, they stopped.

“Yeah. I’m Reshi by the way.”

“Nice to meet you, Reshi.”

He smiled again, his heavy-set jaw supporting truly massive tusks, and bobbed his head awkwardly before retreating. The other two thumped him on the arm and he swatted them away while you turned and caught Hugo’s eye.

“What?”

“No,” Hugo said firmly.

“No what?”

“No ice orc…” he growled. “I know you… and they’re… they’re not good…”

“You don’t even know them!” you hissed. “They seem alright…”

His scowl eased off a little bit and he said, “Just… be careful.”

You curled up that night in the familiar guest room while the dogs slept in the shelter outside, and snow-laden winds battered against the windows.

In the morning, you made your way down to the bar and found Hugo emerging through another door at the same time. You couldn't help the snicker that escaped you when you caught sight of him and when he flashed you a grumpy scowl, you said, “Your bed-head is worse than mine!”

It was true. His white fur was sticking up all over the place, but he just waved a hand mutely at you and stuck a mug under the coffee machine.

“Did the orcs stay here last night too?” you asked in a gruff whisper as you saw the now familiar trio in the corner of the bar, and he nodded. He’d never been particularly verbose in the morning, at least not until he was caffeinated.

“Mmm,” he added as the machine fired up and the smell of coffee pervaded the room.

The door to the kitchens opened and Perdi backed out, carrying three huge plates of cooked breakfast, carefully balanced. The mothfolk woman looked at you and fluttered her silvery wings a little as she saw you and started to laugh. “You two are as bad as each other,” she laughed. “Good to see you again, by the way,” she added. “I’ll bring you both something to eat in a bit… I’ll let your brains warm up a bit first though…”

“Thanks Perdi,” you smiled.

After you’d eaten, you approached the orcs who had also finished breakfast, and said, “Uh, so I’m almost ready to head over to the warehouse with you… I just have to take care of the dogs first.”

“Great,” Reshi said. “I’m good to go, so just come over when you’re ready and we can go together.”

You nodded, feeling a bit anxious at being alone with the colossal ice orc, particularly after Hugo’s warnings the previous night, but when you came back after feeding your team their breakfast, you found him on his own, crouched by the front door to the bar, petting the tiniest kitten you’d ever seen. He could have fitted it in the palm of his hand.

The strange noise that left your throat made the kitten look up, and as you bit your lips together to keep from making it again, he chuckled.

“I didn’t know the inn had a kitten…” you said, approaching. The little ginger nugget hissed fiercely at you and its tiny little tail puffed up. “I’m… more of a dog person…” you said without greeting it. “They always know.”

“I think he belongs to Perdi. Are you ready?” he said, straightening to his full height. Your mouth went dry and you simply nodded in response.

Outside, you huddled down into your jacket and tried not to keep looking up at him.

A snowy-coated minotaur snorted steam at him and growled as you passed, and you risked asking, “You get that a lot?”

Reshi shrugged. “Depends. Some folks don’t mind us, but others… well… I guess we don’t have the best reputation after all…” he cast his dark, friendly eyes down at you and added, “Honestly, I’m surprised you accepted our offer…”

It was your turn to lift a shoulder in an expressive shrug and you murmured, “We’ll go hungry if we can’t get food delivered… And anyway, you guys seem alright…?”

His laugh was rough but heartfelt and again, it kindled heat between your legs.

The satyr wasn’t all that keen to let his precious cargo leave the warehouse with three ice orcs and their snow-bears, but in the end you convinced him, saying that you’d accept full responsibility for the cargo during transit this one time, and that if anything went wrong, it wasn’t on him. “Please,” you said as he still faltered. “We need this food…”

“Alright then,” he said. “Here, sign this, and you can come and pick it up.”

Once that was done, Reshi looked at you and said, “You want to stay here while I head back and fetch the others? Save you getting all cold…”

“Thanks, but I can ready the dogs and come over with you. We can all leave together from here then, once your sleds are loaded.”

Saying goodbye to Hugo was painful as ever, but you promised to come and visit him again soon when the weather was a bit better. He nodded and hugged you close. “I don’t like the feel of the wind,” he murmured, casting his blue eyes towards the sky. “You make sure you’ve got enough protection for the way back in case it gets worse, alright?”

You nodded. “I’ve always got my emergency supplies and shelter with me, and the dogs are tough. They’ll be alright.”

“I know, I know,” he said. “I can’t help worrying about you. You’ve only got borrowed fur to keep you warm,” he added, tugging affectionately at the fur collar of your hood which you’d pulled down while you’d been inside.

“Thanks for taking care of me and the dogs,” you said as you headed outside.

Hugo eyed the three waiting orcs and pointed his clawed index finger at Reshi. “If she comes to any harm because of you…” he growled, showing all his very sharp teeth.

“She won’t,” Reshi said evenly. “I swear it. We’ll get her and the supplies safely back home.”

The yeti growled again and only shut up when you patted his furry chest. “See you soon,” you said and he nodded.

Reshi turned to the other two and said, “You two ready?”

They nodded, but the female didn’t budge and instead laughed, “You haven’t even introduced us, boss!”

“Shit,” he said, rubbing his chin. His hair was rimed with frost where the other two had covered their heads with deep hoods, but he didn’t seem in the slightest bit chilly. “Well, this is Tahira,” he said as he gestured to the female, who nodded. “And that’s Kushta,” he added at the southern orc, who raised his gloved hand in greeting. “Everyone ready?”

You nodded and said, “I’ll just bring the dogs round.” You’d harnessed them all up when you’d returned from your first trip to the warehouse, but had left them round the side of the inn while you went to say your goodbyes to Hugo.

The team yapped and barked all the way round and Tahira made a comment about hearing them a mile off. The bears snuffed disdainfully at the air as they appeared, but otherwise seemed to accept their new travelling companions easily enough.

With everything finally loaded, you set off for home just after midday. Tahira and Kushta took their two sleds in front of yours, and you slotted in between them and Reshi, who brought up the rear.

After only an hour of travelling, the weather closed in. The storm that Hugo had smelled on the air whipped up quickly, lashing the canvases of the sleds and battering you as you tried to stay astride the skids of your slid. In bitter, near white-out conditions, even the bears slowed to a trudge and the dogs kept their heads down, eyes squinting against the icy wind.

Reshi bellowed something from behind which you didn’t catch, and then he blew on a whistle, three short blasts. Kushta, who was in the lead, held up his right arm, fist balled, and the line drew to a halt.

Striding and plunging through the snow like a bison, Reshi caught up with you and put his hand on your back as he leaned down to yell in your ear, “We have to stop. If we keep going in this, we could get lost or the sleds could tip over.” He had drawn his fur hood up by now, and he lowered the piece of fabric which covered his mouth and nose. It had been cleverly hitched around the tips of his massive tusks.

You agreed. “Emergency shelters?”

He nodded. “They’re on Kush’s sled. We’ve got two. To save time, you could share with me?”

“Sure,” you said. You were hardly about to argue in conditions like these.

With a smile, he patted you once on the back and ploughed off through the snow, his thick thighs working to power him forwards. The packed snow of the track was alright, and the dogs weren’t all that bothered about the weather, other than that they couldn’t see very easily, but you knew that the moment you stepped off the sled you’d be struggling to move.

Reshi returned and said, “You stay on the path for now. We’ll set up the tents, and I’ll come back for you, alright?”

“I’m sure I could help…” you said, but he insisted.

“Thank you, but I think we’d probably be quicker… We’re used to doing this all the time. You just keep warm, ok?”

“Easier said than done…” you said with a hollow laugh. No matter how good the reindeer-fur mittens were, you were starting to get properly cold now.

You watched with avid interest as the orcs got to work. In fact, most of Kushta’s sled was taken up with their own gear, and it transpired that he was usually the support sled while the others carried the trade goods. It was hard to see exactly what they were doing, but their tents were made of tall, straight poles which they covered with a sheet of stitched-together animal pelts, and out of the top they poked a metal chimney. They had small, portable stoves which suddenly seemed like the most inviting thing in the world. Finally they piled and compacted drifts of snow down around the outside of the lower, sloping walls of the conical tents, partly to insulate and partly to anchor them. All in all, it took them fifteen minutes to put up two tents.

“You really have done that a few times…” you said, teeth chattering as Reshi returned to you. He just grinned lopsidedly at you.

Deciding that no one would be travelling along the trails in this weather, you unhitched the dogs and the bears and left the sleds in place. Surprisingly, the bears seemed to welcome your team, but the dogs were cautious. An idea struck you and you said, “Reshi, can I say hello to your bear?”

“You should get inside,” he warned. “You’re getting too cold.”

“Just quickly,” you said. “If I tether the dogs near the bears they’ll be more sheltered, and if they see me greeting the bears, they won’t be afraid - the bears won’t hurt them, right?”

“Oh, no,” he said. “They’ve grown up with dogs too. They’ll be fine.”

You struggled the short distance to where Tahira and Kushta had already settled the bears down, and you glanced up at Reshi. He simply jutted his chin out and you held out your hand for the bear to sniff. You wanted to ask him what her name was, but the wind stole every breath you had from you, so instead you showed the dogs that the bears were friends, settled them down in the middle of the small triangular arrangement of bears, and then allowed Reshi to lead you to his tent.

Tahira was already kindling a fire inside for him, and he smiled at her in thanks as you stepped inside. Instantly protected from the wind, you felt warmer already, and you took your boots off and shook the compacted snow off the soles before bringing them to the fire. Your socks were damp, which wasn’t great, but you had feeling in your toes still, and the fire would do its work to warm the tent up in no time.

“Thanks,” he murmured to Tahira and then spoke softly to her in his own language. For some reason you’d forgotten that he must be bilingual. The sound of his native tongue in his rumbling bass was deeply attractive, and you turned your face away, trying to pretend that the colour in your cheeks and the warmth in your face was from the strengthening fire.

Tahira slipped out and Reshi toggled the flap down securely before removing his jacket and hanging it on a peg that jutted out from one of the supporting poles. He turned and found you staring around at the tent and smiled. “It’s not much, but it’s home for now,” he said.

“It’s amazing. I know your people build homes out of snow in the winter, but I’ve never been inside a shelter like this one.” Actually it was difficult to focus on the neat economy of the shelter when he was standing there wearing a very tight-fitting under-shirt and equally figure-hugging black sealskin leggings. He was so powerful, with enormously muscular thighs and biceps that dipped down from his shoulders and then bulged in just the right way…

He grinned. “The snow houses are more permanent,” he said and you forced yourself to look at his face instead of his incredible body. “It takes time to cut the snow into blocks, and we didn’t have time for that today. These are for hunting trips and emergencies.” He approached and said, “You warming up a bit now?”

You nodded and shot a glance at the tiny wooden stove. “This is neat…” you commented.

“Mmm,” he smiled and then pointed at the matting on the floor beside you and added, “Mind if I sit?”

“What? Of course I don’t mind,” you gasped, still standing with your arms crossed, as close as you could get to the stove without singeing you clothes.

He smiled shyly and stared at the fire for a while, hugging his knees in close.

“Everything ok?” you ventured after a minute. His long hair hung down his back in a thick, black rope, and the flickering light danced on the metal beads braided into it. You resisted the urge to reach for it and test the weight of it.

Reshi swallowed thickly and as the storm raged outside, you barely heard his response. “Yeah,” he said. “It’s… It’s nice.”

“What is? This weather?”

With a look askance at you, he grinned wonkily again and your insides flipped over. “No. It’s nice to meet a human - anyone, actually - who’s not afraid of us.”

“Back in town… with the minotaur… you said it happens a lot?”

He sighed and turned his face away. “Yeah. Don’t get me wrong, a lot of my people are like that and deserve worse than a spat curse in passing, but it’s no different from orcs down south, or gnolls, or…” he trailed off with a sigh. “We’re not all like that. Everyone knows we sell the best quality furs and meat, so they tolerate us, but… it’s wearing after a while.”

You had been standing, trying to get the heat from the fire up the entirety of your front, but now that you were warming up, you took your own jacket and fur outer-trousers off and he stared openly at you for a moment before his skin darkened and he looked away, swallowing thickly.

Approaching him again after dumping them on the edge of the small shelter, you pulled a small storage crate over to him and sat close beside him. On a whim, you rested your head against his huge arm and said, “I don’t think you’re so bad…”

He laughed and you felt the tension wash out of him.

“You hungry?” he asked.

“Not yet, but I could do with something to drink.”

Reshi produced a bottle of thick, berry cordial which he mixed with hot water and produced the most delicious, warming drink you could have thought of. You nursed it in your hands and let him tell you about growing up in a clan that didn’t want to massacre the fuck out of everything within a fifty mile radius.

The wind eased off about an hour later, but he muttered that it probably wouldn’t last. From what you knew of storms in the area, you had to agree. He’d ducked outside and seen what was on the horizon and confirmed your suspicions. As he came back inside, however, you heard a very particular sound coming from the tent beside yours, and you froze, caught halfway between laughing and snorting and barely restraining yourself from either. You weren’t sure if you should be embarrassed or amused that Tahira and Kushta were in the throes of what sounded like particularly amazing sex, and when Reshi saw that you’d also heard, his ears pulled back just a little and he screwed his eyes shut.

“I… I’m sorry about them,” he said as he fastened the toggles of the tent up again behind him.

“Why?” you grinned, finally allowing yourself that giggle.

“They’re horny as rabbits all year round.”

“Must be tough being single while they’re at it…” you said, and then your face fell. “Unless you’re not actually single…” you added quickly. “I’m sorry. I just assumed… I mean… you could have someone waiting for you, right?”

He held up his big hand and laughed. “Relax,” he said. “I’m single. Very, very single.”

The tone of his voice caught you off guard and you frowned.

Reshi laughed but offered no comment.

“No one catch your eye back home?” you asked cautiously.

He shook his head. “I mean, I’ve had partners in the past, but… nothing’s really lasted. I guess it’s partly because I travel a lot, but mostly it’s just…” he shrugged. “No real connection, you know?”

“Tell me about it,” you snorted. “I mean, I love the people in Selkie Rock Point, but… well… there aren’t many of them…! If no one catches your eye, then… well… good luck!”

He grinned. “Try living in an ice orc clan where there are only four or five families, and every Spring Thaw at the festival, you risk being mated off to another clan at the drop of a hat…”

“That happens?”

“All the time.”

“It ever happen to you? I mean, did they ever try?”

“Yeah,” he snorted as he sat back down. “That’s how I met Tahira.”

“No way!” you gasped. “You mean, you and Tahira were…?” At that very moment, a long, satisfied bellow from Kushta sounded from the tent next door and you both snorted and cringed slightly.

Reshi leaned back on his hands in the pleasant warmth of the tent’s fire. “Seems like she’s happy though,” he grinned.

“How did they meet?” you asked. “Kushta doesn’t look like an ice orc?”

Reshi shook his head. “He’s not. He came north when he worked as a guide for people travelling up the coast. We met him in Tradewatch, actually, and they’ve…” Tahira obviously came with a broken cry and he waved his hands. “Well, they’ve never looked back.”

He rolled back onto the floor, his hands folded behind his head and stretched out across the entire diameter of the tent. His socks, you noticed, were rather adorably colourful, in a beautiful pattern of red and blue wool.

The storm picked up again, masking any further activity from next door, and you let Reshi introduce you to an orcish game that was similar to chequers. He was really good, and you were absolutely terrible, but it didn’t stop you having fun for a good couple of hours.

Eventually though, you shared a meal and lay back on the furs afterwards and he caught you staring at him. “What?” he asked in a gentle but definitely perplexed voice.

With a shy laugh, you said, “So… I mean… I’ve seen a few ice orcs before, from a distance…” you said, concentrating on the storm-grey of his skin and not on the warm light in his eyes, or the length of his thick eyelashes, or… Clearing your throat, you went on while he propped himself up on one elbow, face alight with interest, the rest of his body relaxed and easy despite the storm howling outside.

You had worried briefly about the dogs, and he’d even gone out to check on them and reported back that they were all curled up in the snow like little arctic foxes, sheltered by the bulwark that three snow-bears had formed around them. “All very cute,” he’d grinned.

Now, as he listened to you stammering awkwardly about having seen orcs before but never having had a conversation with one, his lips curled into a soft smile.

“And?” he asked coyly. “What’s your opinion of us?”

“Well,” you said, swallowing nervously. “The data set is rather limited, but… from what I know of you… you’re… you’re very lovely…” YOU’RE VERY LOVELY? You groaned. What the hell? Who says something like that? And to an eight and a half foot tower of slate grey skin and muscle and tusk.

To your surprise, he let out a slow, deep laugh. “You are too,” he said.

Something changed then and you smiled, hardly daring to believe that this was headed where you both knew it was.

He reached out for you and gently drew you down off the small box where you’d been sitting. “You know,” Reshi all but purred, “I think it’s very impressive that you volunteered to go and help your people. Acts like that amongst orcs are… highly thought of.”

“Really?” you smiled. “I mean…”

“You have the heart of an orc,” he laughed, and brought his rough hand to your chin, tilting it up. “And I’d very much like to kiss you…”

“Oh…” you breathed. “Sure… I’d… I’d like -” he cut you off with a kiss, his huge tusks nudging against your cheeks. His lips were surprisingly soft, the gesture gentle at first, but he deepened it and you felt the arousal spike in both of you.

His big hands moved over your body and he began to undress you slowly, never once breaking the kiss. Pliant and utterly willing, you let him, barely able to catch your breath. Naked and lying across his lap, you revelled in the way your skin tingled, your heart hammered, and your blood sang in your ears. His fingertips slid between your thighs and he nudged them apart with his knuckles. Carefully, respectfully, he dragged one fingertip slowly over your folds and you bucked in his grasp.

“You’re so wet,” he crooned, drawing back in surprise, and you laughed.

You shifted your hand from his chest - which was disappointingly still covered by his long-sleeved underlayer - and pressed your palm against his hard cock which at that moment was digging you in the hip. You weren’t the only one worked up.

He grinned lopsidedly and laid you down on the soft furs before ripping his top off over his head.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful,” you cursed, staring openly at the expanse of bare chest as he loomed over you. He had a couple of scars, but mostly the canvas of his slate-grey skin was perfect and unmarred. His hard, darker nipples were pierced and you reached for the glinting metal of one of them, tugging gently until he groaned and then growled.

Reshi pounced, parting your legs and pulling you into his lap. He was rough as he moved you about, but always careful you realised somewhere through the haze of your lust.

Kneeling on the floor, he lifted you up and brought his mouth to your heat. With your back lying along his thighs, his hands on the curve of your arse, you writhed and gasped as he laved his dark tongue over your wet folds and groaned again. “You taste so good,” he rumbled between the movements. His fingers tightened almost painfully on your hips and he lifted you a few inches higher, and got to work.

His tongue tasted you, inside and out, circling, nudging, teasing, tasting, until you felt blinding white heat rolling up inside you.

“Reshi!” you gasped, but he was relentless now, devouring you hungrily, reverently; on his knees and worshipping your body; lost in the sounds you made for him. “Reshi!” you yelled, fingers grasping at nothing, and came hard against the pressure of his tongue. Your body shook and convulsed, but he did not release you until you fell back, limp and gasping.

Barely able to crack an eye open, you lay there as he set your body - still sporadically twitching in the aftermath of your blinding orgasm - down again, and fumbled to undo the laces at the top of his leggings. His hand tightened around his impressive cock, almost painfully hard and weeping, but you shook your head and hissed, “I want you…”

He raised an eyebrow. “You sure?” His tone was only that of concern, not arrogance. He was big though.

Your eyes sank back down to his cock and you grinned. “I’m sure.”

—

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#orc #orc x reader #male orc x female reader #exophilia #orc boyfriend #monster boyfriend #inktober #orctober #I KNOW IT'S NOVEMBER #but shhhhh #also LOOK I WROTE SOMETHING AGAIN #it's been 84 years #yeti #yeti bff

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haveamagicalday · 3 years

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My reads of 2020

My top ten is in a separate post but here are the rest of my reads!

5 Stars

If You Tell by Gregg Olsen

This is a memoir about the Shelley Knotek case. It focuses heavily on the relationship and struggles of her three daughters that were just children when Shelley’s tortures started. This book was fantastically written for such a morbid tale but be warned, it is not for the faint of heart. Trigger Warning: Abuse, torture, murder

Wayside School Beneath the Cloud of Doom by Louis Sachar

The Wayside school books were some of my favorite growing up. I made sure to reread them all before reading this one. It felt like no time had past at all. This is a great blast from the past that won’t disappoint old fans of the series.

4 Stars

All Your Twisted Secrets by Diana Urban

A group of seemingly unrelated students are invited to a scholar dinner that turns out to be a trapped. Once all the students arrive, they are locked in with a bomb and the the option to choose one person to die or they all die. As the night slips away, we learn the secrets and connections the students share that brought them to their predicament. Surprisingly not as suspenseful as you would think it would be and the secrets/bad things the students had done in the past really weren’t that twisted. Still it was very fun with an explosive ending.

Beyond the Shadowed Earth by Joanna Ruth Meyer

This is a sequel to Beneath the Haunting Sea and actually focused on the hero from the first’s books antagonist, Eda. Eda overthrow our hero from the first book as heir to the throne, blamed the king’s death on her and had her wrongfully banished to an island that launched the story of the first book. After that we never visited Eda again as the book focused on a different story instead of getting her kingdom back. So in this one, we see what happened to Eda after she took over. She is not a good person and the author isn’t afraid to make her unlikable at first, but also redeemable through her adventure and misfortunate.

Break Your Glass Slippers by Amanda Lovelace

Another book of poetry from Amanda Lovelace that delivers profound and touching poems.

Daughter of the Forest by Juliet Marillier

A classic retelling of The Six Swans. This story takes place in a medieval/fantasy version of Ireland. Marillier is one of my favorite authors of fairytale retellings. This book is definitely a slow read but is gorgeously written and rich in character development. The story follows the fairytale with little variation. Trigger Warning: Rape (graphic depiction).

Lady Killers: Deadly Women Throughout History by Tori Telfer

Nonfictional account of female serial killers. I liked that this wasn’t written like a wikipedia page and took a more narrative approach. After the first few women, they all start to blend together though. Lots of poisoning happens. It would have been nice for some variety.

Malorie by Josh Malerman

The sequel to Bird Box that we probably didn’t need but was still good nonetheless. This one focuses more on Boy and Girl (now named thankfully) as teenagers and their view and challenges of the world they’ve grown up in. This book introduced new concepts that were interesting and creative. Somehow this managed to have a relatively happy and satisfying conclusion.

The Monstrous Feminine by Barbara Creed

A look at horror films through a feminist and psychological lens. I absolutely loved this book and the ideas it presents. The first half of the book takes a look at certain horror films (such as Carrie, the Exorcist, Alien, ect.) and “challenges this patriarchal view by arguing that the prototype of all definitions of the monstrous is the female reproductive body.” I liked the first section of the book more than the second part where I felt it focused too much on Freud and his findings and challenging them through horror films.

No Judgements by Meg Cabot

A cute, fluffy romance that takes place on a small island preparing for a category 3 hurricane. Bree finds herself forced to shelter with the island’s resident heartbreaker and they don’t get along. At first ;)

The Silent Patient by Alex Michaelides

Alicia, a famous painter and wealthy wife, shocked the world when she killed her husband and then stopped speaking afterwards. Now committed to a mental institute, Alicia is still refusing to speak. Theo is a therapist who jumps at the opportunity to work with Alicia and discover what really happened with her husband. Some of the twist was easy to pick up on at first but there was plenty that kept me guessing. This was a real page turner.

When We Were Magic by Sarah Gailey

Alexis and her group of friends have one very big thing in common; they are able to preform magic. One night, Alexis’ magic causes an accidental death of a classmate and the friends have to ban together to make things right. This was a creative and moving read. There’s plenty of magic but it almost comes secondary to the friendships and blossoming love between two of the friends.

The Year of the Witching by Alexis Henderson

Immanuelle lives in. a patriarchal society where the prophet’s word is law and the town is bordered by the evil and forbidden Darkwood. In the Darkwoods lurks four witches that seem to be calling out to Immanuelle. This book had fantastic world building and the story was unique and engaging. Sometimes it felt like we were just skimming the surface of possibilities and I felt that the book could have been longer or divided into a series. While the story wraps up in the end it does turn out there is going to be a sequel so I’m excited for that! Trigger Warning: Mentions of Rape

3.5 Stars

The Cousins by Karen M. McManus

Jonah, Aubrey and Milly never knew their rich grandmother. Her children were all cut off ominously with a note simply saying “you know what you did.” Now their grandmother is reaching out to the cousins and inviting them to work at her island resort for the summer. Lots of secrets and twists await them! This book was a lot of fun and probably my favorite of this author’s so far. Some of the twists border on zany but the overall tone of the book is a little zany so it works.

Horrid by Katrina Leno

After her father’s death, Jane and her mother are forced to move across the country into Jane’s mother’s childhood home. The manor has many secrets hidden within that Jane must face. The book was well written and intriguing. The books deal with grief and mental illness with a touch of the supernatural. I felt that the overall pacing felt off though. Very little happened in the beginning and then a lot happens in the last 30 or so pages and then it ended abruptly. It was a great concept though and I'm interested in more from this author!

One of Us is Next by Karen M. McManus

A sequel to the hit novel, One of Us is Lying. This book focuses on one of the character’s from the first books little sister and two of her classmates. The stakes in this one didn’t feel quite as serious as the first book but it was a fun read with interesting twists!

The Return by Rachel Harrison

Julie went missing, leaving her 3 best friends grappling with tragedy. Then, exactly two years later, she comes back with no memories. The four friends decide to spend a weekend together but something is not quite right with Julie. This book was creepy! However, it focuses more on the relationships of the four characters and dealings with grief with a touch of supernatural sprinkled throughout. It’s a gripping novel from start to finish that will keep you guessing.

3 Stars

All the Missing Girls by Megan Miranda

Nicolette returns to her hometown for the first time in ten years after the mysterious disappearance of her best friend. Shortly after arriving another girl goes missing, forcing Nicolette to relive what happened years ago. What made this book a page turner was that it tells the story backwards. Once she gets to her hometown it starts on her 10th day and works backwards to what happened on the day of her arrival. Unfortunately, while the concept works at first it builds up to a lackluster and disappointing ending. If you were to put the book in the correct order, it wouldn’t work as there are stuff that is found out in the first few days that the reader doesn’t know about but the characters do that wouldn’t make sense in a narrative sense.

Behind Closed Doors by B.A. Paris

From the outside Jack and Grace come off as the perfect couple but behind closed doors, everything changes. No twists here, Grace is Jack’s prisoner and she is desperately trying to get away. The book alternates between past and present about her current situation and how she got there. This involves a lot of suspension of disbelief. Jack is a cartoony type of villain with no real motive and he would never be able to get away with what he was doing. Grace is also not the smartest person, there were a lot of different ways she could have escaped but for the sake of the story she doesn’t. Don’t get me wrong, this was still a suspenseful and fun read but also questionable and some points.

The Blue Salt Road by Joanne M. Harris

A quick, fairytale like story about a selkie who was tricked into becoming human and now longs to return to the sea. I feel like there was a message being preached in this story, but I can’t really pinpoint what it was. Regardless, this was a magical little read.

Clown in a Corn Field by Adam Cesare

Clown in the corn field is a slasher film put on page. It starts off like a typical YA novel and sets up a mystery as to who the clown is, but then the clown attacks at a party and the rest of the novel is that one night as the clown wrecks havoc and the teens have to escape. I think I wold have preferred and more drawn out mystery but fans of slasher films would really enjoy this!

Coral by Sara Ella

A sort of retelling of the Little Mermaid. Sort of. This book focuses on strong themes of mental health. The mermaid/fantasy side is minimal and almost completely disappears in the 2/3rds in to the novel. It was a slightly confusing read but had a powerful depiction of depression. Trigger Warning: Suicide

The Doll House Murders by Betty Ren Wright

A sad but sweet little mystery novel about a preteen girl who discovers a dark secret via an old dollhouse and its mysterious moving dolls. The subject matter was dark but the story was written for middle graders and thus mystery is handled with simplicity and strange charm to it.

Good Girl, Bad Blood by Holly Jackson

The sequel to A Good Girl’s Guide to Murder. This book hasn’t been released in the US yet but you can still get the British/original version on amazon which is what I did. This novel requires a stretch of disbelief and I didn’t think the mystery was as good as the first one. However, if you are a fan of the first one, you will still want to check this one out as well!

I Know Who You Are by Alice Feeney

You definitely have to suspend your disbelief when you read this one. It's gripping and while some twists were easily guessed, the final one took me for a surprise. It's equal parts dark/chilling and cheesy/silly. I'm still left with a lot of questions after the ending. It makes the book fall apart when you think about it but if you just take it for what it is, an entertaining but cheesy thriller, you'll enjoy it.

The Harp of Kings by Juliet Marillier

This book features the children of the main characters from the Blackthorn and Grim series but you don’t need to read that series in order to read this one (though you should!). The book features three teenagers that are training to be warriors that are selected to go undercover in a nearby kingdom to find the stolen Harp of Kings before the new king’s coronation can take place. It was slow in the beginning and I felt there wasn’t much character development but it was an enjoyable read.

In Darkling Wood by Emma Carroll

Alice’s sick brother is getting a lung transplant and Alice is forced to stay with an estranged grandmother. Her grandmother lives on the edge of darkling wood, a place rumored to be filled with fairies. This book reminded me of a less dark version of When A Monster Calls. It deals with some of the same themes but this is more aimed towards children with a feel good ending.

The Lost Girls by Heather Young

In the summer of 1935, six year old Emily disappeared leaving her two older sisters and parents devastated. Sixty years later, both sisters are dead but one of them left behind her house and a notebook detailing what happened that summer for her grandniece, Justine. This book wasn’t so much of a thriller but focused more on Justine’s current issues with her daughters and ex boyfriend. I found the chapters with the notebook pages in between chapters more interesting than the modern story.

Love, Stargirl by Jerry Spinelli

I read the first Stargirl years ago but reread it before reading this one. This sequel doesn’t manage to capture the same charm as the first one did. The book is a series of letters that Stargirl writes (but doesn’t send) to Leo from the first book following her over the course of a year. I found it surprisingly boring at times and Stargirl seemed far to normal as compared to the first book. It was neat to see what she was up to after the first book but overall I didn’t think it was a necessary sequel.

A Psalm for Lost Girls by Katie Bayerl

Callie’s older sister was considered a saint in her small town before she tragically passed away. Now the city is trying to have her canonized, but Callie knows her sister wasn’t a saint, and the pressure is what ultimately killed, so now she’s on a mission to prove that her sister was just a normal girl. This book involved a missing child that Callie’s sister was supposed to find before she died but couldn’t. The mystery there was very predictable and was kind of on the back burner to Callie’s story. I think this would have been a more interesting story if it had been from the sister’s perspective and how it felt to be a teen saint while she was still alive.

The Rose Without a Thorn by Jean Plaidy

The story of Katherine Howard, the fifth wife of King Henry. I was looking for a novel that painted Katherine as sympathetic, as most adaptations make her out to be a seductress. This novel was strange as it read as a wikipedia entry in a narrative form. It was all telling and no showing and lacked real emotion. From the minor research I’ve done, it seems to be pretty accurate in terms of events that happened. Trigger Warning: Sexual Abuse featuring a minor (but isn’t presented as such)

Sadie by Courtney Summers

Sadie’s sister was murdered and she is determined to bring the killer to justice. In between each chapter about Sadie is a the transcript for a podcast that is covering the case, as well as Sadie’s future disappearance . This is a very popular book but to be honest, I'm not sure what the point was? The podcast was an interesting idea but it basically just rehashed everything we already knew. Not much was added by it. The ending just fizzles away and the story tended to drag in places. It was very well written though and I think I was just not the right audience for it.

The Seventh Bride by T. Kingfisher

A creepy retelling of Bluebeard. It reads like a YA in some places but Adult in others. It was definitely unsightly and out there but I found it confusing in some places. It has some great creepy imagery and slight body horror to it.

The Supervillain and Me by Danielle Banas

Abby’s brother is a superhero beloved by the whole crime ridden town. But when a supervillain comes into town, Abby finds her paths crossing with him again and again. Okay, so the supervillain wasn’t even a villain and the reason for wanting Abby to help him was not a very good one. The book is mostly about the romance between the two which was nice but nothing spectacular. I found myself more interested in the musical Abby was starring in. It was about a cannibalistic royal family whose oldest son falls in love with a servant and he has to save her from being eaten by his family. Now THAT sounded interesting!

Winterdream by Chantal Gadoury

A Nutcracker retelling. This was a sweet retelling of the story. It didn’t add much to the original tale or the ballet but it was a good winter read to get into the spirit of Christmas.

They Wish They Were Us by Jessica Goodman

Freshman year, Jill’s best friend was killed by her boyfriend., Graham Now it’s senior year and Jill is the president of an elite school club but someone keeps texting her about Graham’s innocence and she can’t keep herself from diving deeper into the mystery to unearth what really happened to her friend. Gripping and twisty, this book was a solid teen mystery!

Not Rated

I’m Thinking of Ending Things by Iain Reid

I read this almost a year ago and I still don’t know what to think about it. I can’t decide if the story was genius or simple shock value. Did the twist make sense? I don’t know honestly. I read this before I even knew there was a netflix adaptation coming and I while I read this book in one sitting, I only made it halfway through the movie. I personally don’t think it translated well to screen. If you are looking for a quick disturbing read with an ending you WILL NOT be able to guess, then I highly recommend this one.

The Merry Spinster: Tales of Everyday Horror by Mallory Ortberg

There’s a pretty popular post on his webiste that has a link to a horrifying retelling of Curious George. This is a collection of retellings/unrelated short stories by the same author. I didn’t read all of the stories in this because some of them were just too difficult to get through and confusing. However, the dark retellings of fairy tales and children books were really enjoyable. I particularly liked the retellings of The velveteen rabbit, the frog prince and the six swans. I think they can all be found online and not just in this collection.

Midnight Sun by Stephenie Meyer

Is it good? No. Is it garbage? Yes. Did I still read it any way? Yes. Team Edward for life.

#books #book recomendation #all your twisted secrets #when we were magic #the silent patient #the return #daughter of the forest #malorie #the year of the witching

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wide-eyedscottishlass · 3 years

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Scarlett and the Professor

[continued from]

moodboard by @strangelock221b

author’s note : Reader may recall the many references to Scarlett’s preternatural connection to the Sea. This chapter reveals that her Professor has a true, supernatural connection of his own.

His study door was open, but Scarlett lightly knocked upon it anyway, as much from good manners as from believing that such behavior was still very much within the expected parameters of their relationship. “Come on in, m’dear,” was his distracted sounding reply.

Hennessy was seated in the same wingback chair as from the evening before, reading glasses perched on his nose, a red, felt tip pen in hand as he marked up the quiz sheet he held in the other. A stack of papers sat on the side table next to his chair. He glanced up at her over his glasses, then squinted and pursed his lips. “Darling, didn’t you bring a change of clothing? Or do you plan to swan about in my dressing gown all day?”

Yet again, Scarlett felt her cheeks burn with embarrassment. “Well, yes, Sir, I…I did. But I thought you meant for me to see you first.”

“Oh, right,” he nodded, quirking a quick smile, “Not that you don’t look lovely in it, of course.” Scarlett was thinking how casually handsome he looked, his thick, dark hair still wet from his shower and meticulously slicked back, with him wearing a navy blue, athletic fit polo which accented his broad shoulders and firm pecs—reminding her of how thrilled she’d been to pamper them with moist, hungry kisses during their many hours of play the night before. A pair of grey Adidas track pants and well-worn leather boat shoes completed his relaxed look.

“Thank you.” Scarlett fidgeted with her sash, without a clue of what to say next—though Hennessy soon solved that for her, casting her an indulgent smirk.

“I’ll be tied up here for a bit longer, so feel free to keep yourself occupied. You are welcome to explore any of the rooms on the first floor, and the grounds if you so wish.” His eyes seemed to drill into hers with his next instruction, “However, I must insist that you refrain from entering any room on the second floor other than my bedroom suite.” His gaze raked her from head to toes in a way that made her feel he was numbering her every physical attribute once again—numbering and weighing, as though calculating her worth, before he added quietly, “For there are some things you’re still too delightfully innocent to learn, m’dear.”

She nodded solemnly, her mouth gone dry at the implications. “I’ll leave you to this, then,” she offered, and then turned to leave, reaching the door before he called her back.

“Scarlett, there was a question you asked earlier which I never got to answer…wasn’t there?”

“Yes,” she blinked in surprise.

Hennessy nodded forbearingly, “In light of the…advance…in our relationship, I can offer you several options.” He whet his lips, then continued, “I don’t especially care for ‘Sir’, but if it’s a kink you enjoy, I’ll allow it. ‘Professor’ is fine as well, and you may also address me as ‘Hennessy’—many of my lovers do. But don’t even think of using my given name…” He chuckled. “It’s the single least sexy name in the world, and I only tolerate it from my mother.”

“Alright,” she replied softly, though he appeared to have something more to add.

“And as you are quite soft and…” he paused and inhaled deeply, as though he had caught a trace of her musk on the air, “…mmmmm…deliciously romantic, my sweet little lamb, a few terms of endearment are not uncalled for, as long as you don’t use them excessively…”

“Uh-huh,” she smiled, feeling exactly that sort of softness for him now.

“...and I do find I’m rather fond of that Scottish thing you’ve called me...”

“My...my jo,” she nearly whispered.

“Yes! My jo---I like that,” he exclaimed, “Quite more than I ever would have expected.” Hennessy flashed her wink and a toothy grin. “It’s back to work for me now, my jo---but I’ll come find you when I’m done.”

He turned his attention back to his task, so that Scarlett finally departed, certain that he would find her exactly as promised when the time came around.

_________________________________________________

She decided to forgo the exploration for the time being, knowing that she needed a good washing up instead---and rather wishing that later Hennessy might give her a tour of the place himself. Back in his bedroom, she picked up her discarded items and fully opened the French doors, drinking in the warmth of the sunshine and the gorgeous view of the sea from his balcony. I should sketch this some time, she mused, though in truth she wasn’t sure if this might turn out to be her only opportunity.

Scarlett’s change of clothes was simple and modest when compared to how she’d outfitted herself for their evening tryst. Still, she laid what she had out on the bottom of the bed; a gauzy, white peasant blouse, stonewashed denim clam diggers, and a white lace bra with matching knickers. Casual and comfortable, for she had actually expected she would be wearing them as she headed home with the morning light, or even sooner. While never having imagined the several ways that Hennessy would have her through the night.

Mmmmm. Hennessy. And the things he had already taught her. Nothing in her sheltered world had prepared her for the brazen craving that she felt at just the thought of him and the divine sins he had tutored her in. She was craving him even now, like an addict for a fix.

But it wasn’t just the physical leading her to feel this way. There was his astonishing duality. He could be brutally honest, caustic, selfish, and even cruel---yet he had been so gentle with her at the moments she had needed it the most, and he was brilliant, funny, and surprisingly kind when the spirit moved him. As when he had finally gotten around to taking her maidenhead, and in the aftermath. No matter what might transpire between them going forward, at least part of her heart would be forever his, from that alone.

Oh, Hennessy was supremely confident and self-possessed, but beneath the facade he showed the world, Scarlett sensed bitter self-contempt and secrets that he had resolved to hide even from himself. Deep and painful secrets, surely related to the mysterious scars he bore. Her unerring intuition and gentle empathy---gifts come down through the ages to her, courtesy of her ancient Selkie blood---made her ache to know why. And to provide some consolation, were he ever to allow her into his heart.

She closed her eyes and with the freshness of recent memory she pictured the sight of him looking out his balcony doors to the sea, marveling again at sheer physical beauty of his form, and then shivering as she had last evening as she recalled seeing those brutish marks for the first time. Certain that would be imprinted on her heart forever as well. The urge to capture that moment had her moving to grab her sketchbook and pencils from her bag even before she even made the conscious decision. It might be foolhardy, she told herself, and surely he would not be pleased---if her were to know. But Scarlett felt the strong need to do so nevertheless.

She took a seat on the tufted ottoman, and as was the way when she was deeply inspired, she set to work with ease, lightly penciling in an outline of Hennessy and then sketching the details of the French doors, balcony, and the night sky with the round, fat moon framed by storm clouds, and its watery reflection on the distant waves. Next she lovingly attended to his details; his stillness as he stood enrapt, the restrained tension in the straightness of his posture, the sculpted beauty of his broad shoulders and long, lean back. Once she was satisfied that the image held true as it could to her vision, she filled in the ladder of scars---blinking back a tear or two as she wondered again how such a travesty had come to be.

Pleased with her work, Scarlett tucked her supplies away, then rose and headed to the loo, intent on treating herself to a hot, soothing bath. Muscle aches from the vigor of the night’s workout had begun to announce themselves, and Hennessy’s tub was the irresistible remedy.

__________________________________________

While the tub filled, Scarlett had taken the time to pin up her hair, and then had rolled up one of the plush towels as a cushion for the back of her head once she leaned back against the far end. Hennessy’s bathtub was longer and deeper than any she’d ever used before---no surprise as it was just another element of a lifestyle dedicated to hedonism.

A small, shelved wire rack hung off the lip of the tub, holding body wash, shampoo, a loofa and a sea sponge. And no surprise once more, as Scarlett noted that in addition to body wash that echoed Hennessy’s sea-themed cologne, there were a couple of smaller bottles in decidedly feminine scents---reminding her that she wasn’t the first, nor would she be the last, houseguest to enjoy the benefits of his inner sanctum. After sliding into the water, she wet the sponge and squeezed a generous amount of jasmine and orange blossom body wash onto it, creating a luxurious foam when she scrubbed her neck, shoulders, upper chest and arms. Next, she washed her legs all the way down to her insteps and toes, and then set the sponge aside and nestled back against the tub, closing her eyes and breathing slowly and deeply, letting the hot water work its magic.

Scarlett wasn’t sure how much time had passed before she opened her eyes, although the water remained comfortably warm. She has sensed that she was no longer alone, yet still felt surprised when she discovered Hennessy casually watching her only a step or two from the tub. “Ohhhh,” she inhaled, then rushed to add, “I hope this is alright.” Although he had already seen her every detail, somehow she felt vulnerable with only the slowly dissolving suds between her bare skin and his avid gaze.

“Of course it is, my sweet,” he assured her gregariously, “In fact, it’s...hmmm...simply perfect.”

The warmth of the water couldn’t keep her skin from from prickling with goosebumps of anticipation, for she knew from his look as well as his tone what he meant by ‘perfect’. “Done with those papers then, Professor?” she asked innocently.

He t’sk’d as he crouched beside the tub, shaking his head, “Not quite, no. But you see, I suddenly found myself rather distracted...” Hennessy reached to cup her jaw in his palm and ran his thumb along her bottom lip; instinctively she lowered her lashes and kissed it. “Now that’s my bonnie lass,” he drawled, slipping his thumb between her lips, “My wet and slippery water nymph...”

“Might...might you care to join me,” she asked after giving it a gentle suck, eager to move over to give him room.

He wore an air of mystery, amusement, inevitability. “I probably will---eventually. But there’s something I’d like to show you first.” He withdrew his hand and added, “A special treat because you’ve been such a good, good girl.”

Scarlett’s heart had begun to race a bit, as she wondered what sort of act could make him sound and look almost diabolical---although whatever it was, she couldn’t deny her curiosity, or her need to please him by obeying.”

“I know you didn’t mean to interrupt me, Scarlett, for there are things you’ve yet to learn about my nature. Now seems the ideal opportunity for that.” His knowing smile was both beautiful and wicked. “The fact is, darlin’, I could feel the water running as you drew the bath. It called to me like a veritable invitation,” he growled, lust shamelessly stamped upon his patrician features.

Though mystified by his statement, her cheeks burned with unrepentant desire to learn what lesson her was offering now. Scarlett watched him hold up his forefinger and then dip it up to the second knuckle in the bathwater. Immediately, ripples of concentric circles moved outward from it, as they would for a stone cast into a body of water. Hennessy’s eyes then captured hers as he barely stirred the water, and he was grinning as he waited for her response to what came next.

Scarlett gasped at the sudden sensation as a current of water strikingly warmer than the bath washed across her submerged torso. He mouth dropped open, “Oh...oh myyyy...”

Hennessy simply nodded, though his pupils had grown large enough to leave visible only a thin crescent of his sea blue irises.

The warmer water seemed to coalesce around her breasts until it felt like it was cupping them while slowly pulsing around them. Like the flex of strong, warm hands. Like his hands. And when tendrils of heated water began to stroke her nipples, drawing them to hard peaks, Scarlett gasped at the divine sensation, then exhaled a long, molten moan. “How? How is this possible,” she whispered, laying her head back against the rolled towel.

Hennessy laid his other forefinger across his lush lips, swift to command her, “Ssssssshhhhhh...don’t question it, love...just trust in me as you have all along.”

“I will...I do...” she nodded, gasping again when thick, heated tendrils kissed both of her insteps, then slowly began to twine up her legs. The water continued to caress her breasts, deliciously teasing her nipples so that it nearly felt she was being suckled. A small part of her brain warned that there was devilry in what her lover was doing---but need and desire overrode those cares, for Scarlett knew full well what was coming next.

Those tendrils had wrapped around her thighs, pulsing against her skin while their ends insinuated themselves between them. As much as she expected it, her eyes still flew open at the impossibility of them brushing up and down the length of her slit, while seeking her tender, secret flesh and then spreading her open and spoiling her with pleasure as strongly and as surely as though they were Hennessy’s talented fingers themselves. She groaned as she undulated beneath them, knowing what he intended for her.

Indeed, one of the columns of water thickened and became more dense as the other continued to stroke her clit, and then began to seek entry. Scarlett needed to see him, her lover and teacher, this mysterious creature who had captured her soul and now appeared to possess power over the element of water itself. The look of concentration on his face was mesmerizing, and when the thick, hot shaft of water finally slid inside her, he looked absolutely victorious.

The water was smooth and hot and driving so deeply into her that she keened again and again, and it wasn’t long until she was gripping white-knuckled onto the lip of the tub with both hands as she bucked her hips into his glorious onslaught. Hennessy had begun to moan quietly and when she managed to look at him again, a fine sheen of sweat stood upon his brow and above his lips. “Yessssss,” he hissed, “You’re my wicked little angel, aren’t you, love...made...made just for me...” He was panting hard, as though with effort to bring her to climax, “...a gift...a gift of the Sea...”

In that moment, that was exactly what Scarlett wanted to be; Hennessy’s in every way imaginable, belonging to him shamelessly. “Oh pleeeeeeeease...finish me, my jo,” she cried out, beyond all thought of sin, craving only what this spectacular devil willed for her, “Make...me...cum...cum for you...” Whatever spell he was working reached its peak, and Scarlett came hard in a glorious frenzy, until her body went limp and she nearly slid beneath the surface. As Hennessy grabbed her to keep her afloat, the heated tendrils dissolved, dispersing their warmth into the surrounding water and leaving behind only their effects upon her---waves and waves of diminishing after throes, eventually making her shake from the power of her release.

When her body finally relaxed, Scarlett opened her eyes to find him watching her closely again and looking incredibly pleased with himself. “I dare say you’re squeaky clean now, my sweet,” he observed, “And that was delicious, don’t you agree?”

She nodded slowly as words failed her for several breaths, while her rational mind insisted that she had to be dreaming everything that had happened since she’d initially laid her head back and closed her eyes. “No, you’re not dreaming, my jo,” he assured her. That expression coming from him was like a surprising, gentle caress. One that could only leave her covetous for more of the same. “I swear to you that what just happened is very, very real.”

Scarlett barely found her voice enough to ask, “But...how? How could that be?”

Hennessy pursed his fulsome lips and raised a single brow, “Explanations can wait for later.” A greedy expression now colored his dear, handsome face as he rose to stand---a look that echoed the way his loose track pants now tented across his erection. “But right now,” he told her while he pulled off his shirt and let drop his pants where he stood, “I’m going to claim what is rightfully mine.”

And though she had just been fully satisfied, Scarlett felt her nipples tighten in anticipation as he stepped into the water, while the gorgeous ache to have him fill her again...to have him take her mercilessly...had the muscles all throughout her pelvis reawaken with that sinfully luscious need.

tagging: @strangelock221b @ben-c-group-therapy @ben-locked @letterstosherlock @splunge4me2art @ravencatart @doctor-stephenstrange @aeterna-auroral-avenger @humanbornarchangel @frowerssx-world @tsukuyomi011 @emilyinnj4real

#my writing #Scarlett and the Professor #romance #lust #smut #Scarlett Campbell.#OFC #OMC #not my OMC and used with permission #Scarlett's Professor #Professor Hennessy #Hennessy

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sundove88 · 3 years

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Melody of Fate- A Song of The Sea Oneshot Fanfic

Years earlier...

Conor was walking along the beach, looking for something or someone to hang out with. The moon was shining, and the waves were dancing. It was then he heard a most wonderful sound- a group of women were dancing on the beach! Their movements were as graceful as the wind, and their dancing skills were just like ballerinas. But soon, the ladies got tired of dancing and went back to the sea. It turns out they were selkies, beautiful ladies that disguise themselves as seals. But there was a most horrible sound. A cry for help. Conor hurried to the source of the sound and found a beautiful selkie trapped in a net. Her white skin was the color of snow, and her eyes were strangely human. Conor felt very sorry for the beautiful creature, that he couldn’t help but want to free it. He then saw a group of fur pelt hoarders heading his way- and he knew what he must do. Mustering up all the strength he had, he picked up the seal and carried her all the way to the nearest animal shelter. When he got there, the vet examined the hurt animal- and said that the seal would take a few days to recover. After hearing these news, Conor took the animal home and placed it in a tub of seawater. But that night, the lighthouse owner got a strange feeling about the seal. Because when he fell asleep, he wondered if the seal was feeling well. But as the bathroom door opened, out stepped a young woman! Conor was amazed. “I must thank you for saving my life.” She said as she put her seal skin away in a secret trunk. “Who are you?” Conor wondered. “I’m Bronagh, that very seal whom you’ve saved.” She said as she put on the bathrobe. “Say- why don’t we get to know each other?” Conor asked. “Sure!” Bronagh said as she slipped on her new clothes and laid next to Conor on the bed. She had quite a while to experience the land!

Six Years later...

“And that’s how I met your mother.” Conor finished to a four year old Ben, who had just brushed his teeth and sat down on the bed. “We had quite the meeting, to say the least.” Bronagh said to her son, whose hair was golden in color. “Now off to bed you go. We have a long day tomorrow.” Conor said as he carried his son up to bed, where he was tucked under quilts depicting patterns of the ocean nearby. “Love ya, Mum and dad.” Ben said as he yawned and fell asleep. He could only imagine the adventures his parents had, and the adventures he would soon have...

The End

#fanfic #song of the sea #conor #bronagh #flashback #Ben #I hope you like this little one shot fanfic about how Conor and Bronagh met!#I really wanted to give a reason on how they met #and I hope you like it!

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unnameablethings · 6 years

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Flower of the Sea

Once, the Hunger Of The Abyss had seen a flower fall from a tree hanging over the water and drift through the currents, delicate and pink and fragile. She had been very young at the time, not even named yet, and she had cupped it in palms that were still soft and small, played with it for a few minutes before the water and the little mermaid’s claws had battered it until it was no longer beautiful.

The fisher-girl, too, is delicate and pink and fragile, and though the Hunger of the Abyss is no longer baby-soft and playful, she has the same urge to look, to touch, to cup that soft beauty in her hands and take it for herself. But she does not dare, could not bear to break the fisher-girl like she had broken those soft petals. The Hunger of the Abyss has sharper claws now, is bigger, her skin leathery and armored, and though she is powerful, and knows herself to be strong and attractive and very appealing to potential mates, she is not beautiful in the same way the fisher-girl is beautiful. She does not know if she would be appealing to a human mate, the way she is appealing to a mer-mate. The way the fisher-girl is to her.

The Hunger of the Abyss remains silent, still, watches the fisher-girl swim and sail and laugh and splash and catch fish, occasionally swims away when she sees the fisher-girl look in her direction with wide eyes. She does not want to frighten the fisher-girl away. That would be terrible, awful, for the fisher-girl to no longer swim in these waters. The laughing little selkies who dance on the shore tell the Hunger of the Abyss that she is being ridiculous, that she can win a fisher-girl’s love with no trouble at all, or that she should not bother with a fisher-girl at all, but the Hunger of the Abyss does not listen. The selkies do not know fishers. Granted, the Hunger of the Abyss does not know fishers either, but she can’t imagine that the selkies have somehow managed to guess more accurately than she has. She does not ever intend to speak to the fisher-girl, or let the fisher-girl see her.

But then there is a storm, and the fisher-girl does not read the signs and stay in shelter like a sensible human, so it catches her out on the ship. The fisher-girl struggles with her little sail as the Hunger of the Abyss watches with a writhing tail and fins that flicker in what certainly isn’t fear, because the Hunger of the Abyss is never afraid. The sailboat is tipping dangerously, taking on water, and the fisher-girl’s clothing is plastered to her with rain, her hair escaping her braid and falling into her eyes as she white-knuckles at ropes, her small chest rising and falling rapidly. And then the sailboat tips, and the fisher-girl falls into the water, struggling to stay afloat as the sailboat sinks, and the waves crash over the fisher-girl’s head, and the Hunger of the Abyss moves.

Her claws are sharp enough to gut a whale, so she must be very, very gentle as she takes the fisher-girl into her arms, brings her face up to the air, keeping her above the waves. The Hunger of the Abyss cuts through the water, going as rapidly as she can. Humans do poorly in cold water, and the fisher-girl is so tired, has been cold and wet for a long time already. The Hunger of the Abyss can feel the fisher-girl’s small, soft breaths, the rapid flutter of her heart, the surprising warmth of her, and though she will never admit it to the selkies, there is a strange thrill to it, to how soft and quick and warm she is. How very small.

The Hunger of the Abyss drags herself into the shallow water and deposits the fisher-girl on the sand. She starts to push herself back into the waves, but the fisher-girl staggers to her feet, holding out her hands and calling out through the storm. The Hunger of the Abyss pauses, tilts her head inquiringly.

“Thank you,” the fisher girl says. Her voice is hoarse with saltwater, but still sweet. Hunger of the Abyss feels her tail flip over itself, in a way that she is glad the selkies were not around to see, and then smiles, very cautiously, keeping her teeth covered.

“It was my honor,” she says, and then throws herself back into the sea with a powerful push of her arms and tail. She checks on the fisher-girl over her shoulder once she’s in the water, sees her trudging her way up the hill to her home. The door clicks behind the fisher-girl, and only then does the Hunger of the Abyss dive back into the stormy seas, and return to her own home, under the sea-cliff.

The fisher-girl does not come out to fish for days and days after that, and the Hunger of the Abyss finds that her thoughts turn more and more to her. Is she well? Is she safe and healthy? Is she getting enough to eat?

But then the moon is full, and it is time for the selkies to dance, so the Hunger of the Abyss reluctantly puts aside thoughts of the fisher-girl and follows the pod of giggling seals up to the beach. The Hunger of the Abyss drapes herself over the low, flat stone in the harbor, and watches the selkies shed their skins, laughing their burbling laughs as they stomp and twirl naked on the sand. She props her head on her hand as she watches, humming soft accompaniment to their dancing and raucous singing. Her voice is a voice that can capsize ships and summon storms, so she keeps it soft, merely adding a wild rhythm to their dancing.

There, over the rocks, movement. The Hunger of the Abyss sits up, watching with narrowed eyes. Another man, come to steal the selkies’ skins as they dance? She will eat him alive if he tries. After the first man took a selkie unwilling and trapped, and the selkies came weeping and raging to the Hunger of the Abyss to get their sister back, she has accompanied them to every dance. It will not happen again. But wait, no, is that-

The fisher-girl comes over the rocks, carefully easing herself down the sea-cliff to the cove. The selkies notice her right away, but do nothing except laugh louder and harder and twist their heads to look at the Hunger of the Abyss where she sits on her rock, claws The Hunger of the Abyss watches the fisher-girl intently as she edges around the dancing selkies, her bare feet sinking into the sand. The Hunger of the Abyss can just make out the fisher-girl’s expression, wide-eyed and soft, as she skirts the dancers and comes over to the rocks edging the shore, where the selkie’s skins are laid out. The selkies are looking at her more carefully now, and the Hunger of the Abyss digs her claws into the rock, hoping that the fisher-girl doesn’t steal a skin. She does not want to have to hunt the fisher-girl.

But no, the fisher-girl is walking around the seal-skins, is wading into the water. She is looking at the Hunger of the Abyss, and she is carrying something in her hands. The Hunger of the Abyss watches her come, a strange tenseness in her chest that is not fear, nor even the respectable wariness of any creature that has survived to adulthood in the sea.

The Hunger of the Abyss is too deep for the fisher-girl to reach her without swimming, and she pauses when the water is at her chest, clearly wondering whether to swim on or go back. She glances back at the shore, holding the shiny thing in her hands close to her chest. She is so sweet and nervous, so the Hunger of the Abyss obliges her by sliding off the rock and into the water, two strokes of her tail bringing her within arm’s length of the fisher-girl. The fisher-girl draws back, eyes going wide, and the Hunger of the Abyss’s chest twinges at the sight of her pale, shaking hands. She has some kind of necklace in her hands, and she holds it out to the Hunger of the Abyss. A gift. A courting gift?

The Hunger of the Abyss bows her head so the fisher-girl can put the necklace on her, and feels her small warm hands slide the chain over the Hunger of the Abyss’ head, to her hummed approval. The Hunger of the Abyss has many necklaces, most far richer than this one, but she has liked not a single one of them as much as this.

“Thank you for helping me the other day,” the fisher-girl says, looking up at the Hunger of the Abyss. Her head has to tip back so far that it makes the Hunger of the Abyss want to croon at how little she is. “I don’t know why you did, but I wanted to make sure you knew I appreciated it, and I knew that a mermaid guarded the selkies when they danced because of what happened to James Burne, so I thought… I know it’s not much.”

“It is a beautiful gift,” the Hunger of the Abyss says, and then, “You are beautiful.”

The fisher-girl’s eyes go very round and she turns a lovely pink, like the inside of a snail’s shell. “Oh!” she says, and puts her hands to her cheeks. “Oh, thank you! I - you’re beautiful, too!”

The Hunger of the Abyss’s stomach goes tight like hunger and more than hunger, and she smiles, forgetting to hide her teeth. The fisher-girl blinks rapidly, and then smiles back.

“How are you doing without your fishing-boat?” the Hunger of the Abyss asks, because she has been… not worrying, but thinking about it often. The fisher-girl grimaces.

“Not… great. I mean, I’m doing fine, but I was trading fresh fish for a lot of my groceries and now I don’t have that income… It’s fine, don’t worry about it.”

“I will worry as I please,” the Hunger of the Abyss says. The fisher girl goes pinker still, looking away, and the Hunger of the Abyss sees that she’s trembling all over, now, and her lips have gone a strange blueish color. The Hunger of the Abyss needs to (kiss them) get her back to shore. “Are you cold?”

The fisher girl hesitates, then nods, rubbing her arms. The Hunger of the Abyss picks her up and out of the water, cradling her against her chest. The shore is some distance away, and the fisher-girl is cold and weary. She should not have to walk so far. The fisher-girl makes the softest sound, all beautiful from her lips, and her hands clutch at the Hunger of the Abyss’ shoulders. She is so very warm, warmer even than the last time, and it is blissful against the tough, cold chest of the Hunger of the Abyss. It takes the Hunger of the Abyss several moments to even strike out for the shore, she is so overcome by it, but she can feel the fisher-girl shivering, and so she places her reluctantly onto the sand.

“Return in the day, when you will not be so cold,” the Hunger of the Abyss orders.

“Tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow.”

The fisher-girl nods several times. The selkies are staring openly now, have slowed their dance to watch, and when the Hunger of the Abyss catches their eyes, they explode into giggles. She hisses at them, no teeth behind it, and they scatter in mock-terror, twirling away from the water.

“Wait- what’s your name?” the fisher-girl blurts. She is hugging herself,

“I am the Hunger of the Abyss.”

“Oh,” says the fisher-girl, and her lips move in the shape of it. “Thank you. I’m Jasmine - it’s a kind of flower.”

The Hunger in the Abyss hums at that, pleased. A blossom in truth, then, as well as in hushed sunlight-dreams of her, all coiled in the sea-grottos.

“I’ll come back tomorrow,” Jasmine says, lovely little flower, and runs up the sand of the cove, dodging the dancers and hauling herself back up the sea-cliff.

Tomorrow. The Hunger in the Abyss waits with barely bated patience for the selkies to finish with their dancing. She has to find a suitable courting-gift to exchange for the necklace. (The necklace was a courting gift, yes? It wasn’t just a gratitude-gift? Of course it was. But.)

A fisher-girl with no fish is a sorrowful thing, and of all the skills the Hunger in the Abyss has, hunting is among the greatest, so near dawn, as the selkies slip back into their skins and swim off to rest, she sets out in search of fish, and many of them. Storage presents a problem, but the rock-pools on the shore present a solution, and the Hunger in the Abyss brings fish after fish to an enclosed tidepool, still half-full of water. Every now and then she loops back to the cove where the selkies dance, lingering to see if Jasmine has come, and she has not come, so the Hunger in the Abyss goes back to her fishing.

And then finally she comes to the cove when the sun is high, and Jasmine - oh, precious flower, sun and stars - is there, sitting cross-legged on the sand in her swimming clothes, and the Hunger in the Abyss hauls herself onto the shore with a burble of delight that she had not intended to let escape her throat.

“You came,” the Hunger in the Abyss says, and her own voice is soft to her ears. Jasmine smiles, and the Hunger in the Abyss holds out her arms. “I want to show you something.”

Jasmine steps willingly into her embrace, and she is the warmest of all the times the Hunger in the Abyss has held her, sun-soaked and relaxed. “Show me,” she says, and the Hunger in the Abyss pulls herself back into the sea, rolling onto her back so Jasmine can sit and let only her legs trail in the water. Jasmine is all flushed again, nearly glowing from the sun, and it’s difficult to look away from her to check the water where she’s swimming for any unexpected obstacles. But no, there is nothing, and they reach the rock pools in very little time at all.

The Hunger in the Abyss puts Jasmine up on the rocks, and climbs up after her, sitting with her tail trailing in the water and waiting expectantly for Jasmine’s reaction. Jasmine is not looking at all of the fish that the Hunger in the Abyss caught for her, though. She’s looking at the Hunger in the Abyss herself, wide-eyed and craning her neck up.

“Gosh, you’re big,” Jasmine says. She turns pink again. “And strong.”

“Yes,” says the Hunger in the Abyss, because it is true, she is very big and strong. She preens a little at the compliment, but Jasmine won’t look into the pool and it’s important that she does. “Look at my gift.”

“Your-” Jasmine looks down into the pool, and then back up at the Hunger in the Abyss, mouth open. “Did you catch all of those? For me?”

“Yes. A courting-gift, in trade for my necklace. You said that you needed fish.”

“Yeah,” Jasmine says, faintly. “Yeah, I did. A courting-gift?”

“Mmm.” The Hunger in the Abyss leans over the pool to look in. That’s an impressive number of fish, an excellent courting-gift. She has done very well. “Do you accept?”

She very carefully does not look at Jasmine, but she can feel her tail flicking with agitation. Hopefully humans do not know the language of a mermaid’s tail. Jasmine is silent for longer than the Hunger in the Abyss would have liked, and she kneads her claws into the rock, tail flicks growing to writhing.

“I accept,” Jasmine says, finally, with an air of decisiveness, and a delighted trill explodes from the Hunger in the Abyss. She spares a moment to be thankful that there are no selkies around as she turns to look down at Jasmine, soft and beautiful and golden darling, beloved, courted, own. She is not sure what to do, how to react. Mermaid courting rituals tend to be more violent and physical than a fragile human body could bear. And then Jasmine’s soft mouth touches hers, and the Hunger in the Abyss hums in unexpected delight. She is unbearably soft, soft as petals drifting on the water, and she makes such pretty sounds when the Hunger in the Abyss cradles her face and kisses her back.

Jasmine breaks the kiss by laughing.

“Oh my god, it’s going to take me so many trips with the net to get all of those fish home, how many did you catch, what am I going to do with them all?”

“Whatever you like,” says the Hunger in the Abyss, and kisses her again.

#my writing #mermaid #long post #lesbian mermaids #monster romance #writeblr #amwriting #original #short story #short fiction #lesbian romance #original fiction #flower of the sea

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ceridwenofwales · 5 years

Note

1: What inspired you to write the fic this way? // 2: What scene did you first put down? // 3: What’s your favorite line of narration? // 4: What’s your favorite line of dialogue? --> For Ebb Tide and the Sea Wolves

Thanks, Laure!

Fanfic asks

The Sea Wolves

1. What inspired you to write the fic this way? Answered here.

2: What scene did you first put down?

You sent me the prompt that inspired me to write the first chapter. Unfortunately, I can’t find it anymore. :(

I wrote Moyra hiding from the invaders and being found by Haakon.

3. What’s your favorite line of narration?

@pokeasleepingsmaug asked the same and I included more lines there.

He offers his hand to help her to get up and Moyra looks at him with disdain. Ivar is determined to make her look at him with desire one day.

It was easy to believe Moyra truly wanted him. Why else would she voluntarily undress for me? There wasn’t much left of Ivar’s discernment and shrewdness, so he chose to believe he had finally conquered her with a gesture of gentleness towards a slave and her child, and the intoxicating influence of the honeyed ale.

4. What’s your favorite line of dialogue?

Well, I’ll pick two.

"Njörun, I beg you to protect her while she is in your domains. Svartalfheim is a dangerous realm for those wandering without purpose. Give her shelter as we try to help her find her path back to us. Don’t allow her to be chased or haunted.“ Ivar lifts his hand to muffle the strangled sob that left his mouth and made Moyra stir.

“I think you should leave!” Ingrid touched his shoulder, looking at him with her mouth twisted. Ivar felt like they were judging him.

“It’s my right to be here, to assist her if she needs me. My children are coming to the world,” Ivar looked from Moyra to Ingrid.

“It was your right to fill your slave with your seed too. That’s why we are all here. But if you don’t leave, the birth might be more difficult for her and the children,” Ivar gulps with the realization that he might be happy being a father, but that for Moyra it is torture. He wanted them to be happy, his selfish mind wanted her to be pleased that his seed had taken roots and they would now have an unbreakable bond. Realizing he is the only one pleased with Moyra growing round with their children is his first defeat and Ivar suspects it to be a thousand times worse than a defeat in the battlefield.

“Don’t blame me! I only want to help her! YOU are the only one to blame for this situation! You should be ashamed of yourself, and somehow, I know you won’t ever be. You forced it on her and now, you see what you’ve done? She might die and it’s your burden. In all my years, I have seen men as you take and destroy innocent and young maidens as that one,” Ingrid gestures to the bed, where Moyra is grimacing as another contraction hits her, “I’m tired of this!” Ingrid hisses, lifting her chin to face Ivar.

Ingrid was getting far too insolent. Ivar couldn’t bear it anymore, couldn’t bear hearing her telling all those things. He couldn’t tolerate her telling him to leave. She needed to be silenced, but he didn’t want to scare Moyra. Lowering his face at only an inch from Ingrid’s, he violently grasped her upper arm with his hand. “You don’t tell me what to do anymore!” he snarled at her.

“I don’t pity, or fear men like you!” Ingrid replied. Glowering at him, she tried to free herself from his hold, but Ivar only closed his hand more firmly on her.

“Listen to me, Ingrid, and listen with attention,” his tone calmer. He could feel the corner of his mouth twitching and his eyes were narrowed and burning with hatred. “It’s better for everyone that she survives this. If she dies I swear by my place in Valhalla that I’ll kill you,” Ivar promised, nodding at the bed. Moyra stiffened at hearing his words, her eyes grew wide.

“I’ll burn that hut you call home to the ground until nothing is left to prove that damned place has ever existed at all. If I’m not satisfied afterward, which I’m sure I won’t be,” His nostrils were flared and a vein in his neck pulsed with tension, “I’ll track down everyone you’ve ever loved or cared about and cut them in half. I’ve nothing to lose, nothing I care for in this ugly world! Save her!”

As he growled his threats, Ivar finally saw fear in Ingrid’s eyes and for a brief moment, the view made him feel better. But it didn’t last. There was only so much pleasure to be taken from intimidating others and the notion of vengeance.

“Go back to her now, Ingrid! You have much to do,” he reminded her, his voice a low rasp.

Ebb Tide

1. What inspired you to write the fic this way?

I’ve always loved the mythology of Selkies and I knew I would eventually write a story about them. Then you wrote Lurking in the abyss and made me ship Ivar with Morven and I loved the idea of Ivar marrying a supernatural being and founding a dynasty as the Melusine myth.

2: What scene did you first put down?

That promo video inspired us to write Ivar interacting with those mythological women. ^^

In your story, Morven is the one to watch as Ivar is unaware. I chose to write Fionnuala being watched as she bathed instead. I think that was my way to show how different they are.

3. What’s your favorite line of narration?

She kisses him back with her mouth wide open as she is not afraid of swallowing poison. She tastes the tenderness and the brutality and Fionnuala wants them both.

And when the wave comes Fionnuala remembers not to fight against it. Her body awakens for the memories of swimming in the ocean and soon the primal cry of her baby is heard. She smiles through the tears feeling she won and the sea was with her all the time. Sweat and salty tears are not always a tragedy.

It was impossible for Fionnuala to answer why she couldn’t dive into the ocean after recovering her skin. She was holding the sealskin in her hands, gazing longingly at the ocean but still unable to reclaim her identity. The calling was strong and she thought that would explain why the tears wouldn’t stop streaming down her cheeks. But there was another call. This one was making her nipples leak something precious. Something that meant life for another being Fionnuala loved fiercely.

4. What’s your favorite line of dialogue?

“If it is not safe for me, how is it safe for you? How can you ask me to stay? You are hurting me! If you do not come back, I will be trapped here…” The tears are streaming down her eyes and Ivar starts wiping them away. He wants to stop making her cry, but it seems he is too good at making her suffer, “alone on earth. Is that what you want for me?”

“Why am I not surprised? You Selkies are always so…,” her eyes travel through my body, “romantic.”

“Let them come. I am starving.” She laughs, and I frown, but I find her excitement so contagious that I see myself smiling shyly at her.

I see her closing her eyes and pressing her lips together as she moans in delight, “I cannot forget the warmth of the blood painting my face as I make them scream. Such a sweet song they sing.”

“All he ever deserved was to be meat to feed my hunger.” Morven is grimacing as soon as I tell her what happened.

“Do you think I did this because of you? Out of jealousy, or to make you proud of me?” A sharpness rises in my throat, bursting out as a scoff, “I don’t want your love anymore. I finally realized you can’t understand or feel love. Erik could have killed me and your son while you were sweating between that woman’s legs.”

“You only understand terror and pain, so I want you to be terrified to the point you will never risk my son’s life again.” I speak with a coldness that not even I can recognize, “You can sleep with whoever you want, as long as you are discreet and cautious not to put my son in danger ever again.” I give a bitter laughter, then look straight into his eyes. Ivar is watching me speechless for the first time.

“Are you saying you will leave eventually?” Ivar laughs, and I tilt my head, “You have nowhere to go and you can get back to the sea. Have you forgotten I still have your sealskin?” I brush a finger over my lower lip, glancing at Ivar from over my shoulder with narrowed eyes.

“Do you think you can hide it that well?” I provoke him, and my plan works as I had planned. Later at night, when Ivar thinks I’m asleep, he pulls his body out of the bed to the ground, crawling outside. I only have to follow him discreetly. So predictable.

“Save his head for me!” Fionnuala shouted, looking up from Ragnald to Morven’s bloody face. The mermaid stopped eating, staring at Fionnuala in amazement.

“That’s new! I never thought you would want a taste,” Morven laughed, throwing her head back. Fionnuala watched the blood streaming down Morven’s chin and covering her breasts, “His blood is still so warm, Fionnuala. Come and feast with me.” Fionnuala trembled as Morven licked her lips and leaned down to take another bite.

I think it’s perfectly clear how much I love Morven! Thanks again for this ask. I’m inspired to write these two now. 💖💖

#ask: ebb tide #ask: the sea wolves #goldentailedmermaids #fanfic asks #about moyra #about Fionnuala #ivar fanfic #ivar's heathen army #ivar the boneless fanfic #ivar ragnarsson fanfic #vikings fanfic #ivar x woc #ivar x selkie #ivar x ofc

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nehswritesstuffs · 6 years

Note

*shyly* werewolf!Twelve/Clara please?

I am just going to warn you right here and now: this is notgoing to be your average, run-of-the-mill, sexy werewolf story. There’s areason I don’t read that nonsense, and I am going to write accordingly.

4494 words; definitelyplays with the werewolf thing, like I tend to do (see the Whouffaldivampire/witch AU and/or the Whouffaldi selkie AU for a sampling of my idgafapproach to this sort of stuff); I love doing stuff like this because legendarycreatures and creature folklore and cryptids are so fun and wacky that evenwhen doing something serious I can’t help but grin; contains violence, gore,some stuff that’s probably pretty gross overall, a sloooowww as flip burn becausewhat the actual frickle frackle is this AU, another instance where I’m angrywith myself bc Danny is dead via canon, Dave Oswald just trying to be helpful, anda promise that I have more than this written/planned out so there is morecoming

The Scottish Werewolf of Hackney; Clara Oswald doesn’t believe in faerie stories. She claims she stopped believing when she was eight, but she really stopped around the time her fiancédied. Though, in all honesty, nothing could have prepared her for when a dog she picked up from the shelter a year later turned into a Scotsman right there in her kitchen…

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

It had been nearly a year since Clara Oswald’s life hadturned upside down. She double-checked the calendar and her heart sank at thetruth of it all. A year as of the following Saturday was the anniversary ofwhat Scotland Yard had referred to as one of their most baffling crime spreesthey had seen in decades: a man had stolen a vehicle while high on an unknownhallucinogen and seemingly pretended that he was in one of those badtaxi-driver games all throughout the East End before being taken down by thepolice. When all had been said and done, innumerable vehicles had been clippedand several people rushed to hospitals.

There was only one victim, however, who had not been rushedto anything, for he had been pronounced dead on the scene, and that man wasDanny Pink… her fiancé for all of three days.

She threw a pillow at the calendar on her bedroom wall andburied her face in one of those still on her bed. It made her feel stupid,pouting on her bed like a child near the eve of a dreaded anniversary, yet itwas the only thing she could think to do. No one at work was able to make herfeel much better, though they tried, putting Clara in such a rut that she did notknow what to do… let alone what to do to make her go forward.

Her mobile soon rang and she let it go to voicemail. It rangagain five minutes later and she picked it up—her father.

“Hey Dad,” she said, swiping the call through.

“How are you, my tinytangerine? Holding up alright?”

“I’m not at the bottom of a bottle this call, so I guess youcan say that.” She thought back to a couple weeks ago when her father hadcaught her finishing up a really goodwine she had found and opened the day before, something that she knew she wasnot going to let down for a while. “How about you and Gran? Everything alrightback home?”

“We’re all fine—Lindatoo, thanks for asking—though you know that’s not why I called.” Clara putthe phone on speaker and laid on her back to stare at the ceiling, really notfeeling the conversation yet still wanting her father to speak his piece. “We both know it’ll be a year soon. Have youthought about when you’ll start to… well… work at moving on?”

“It wasn’t that easy when Mum died either,” she sniped.

“That’s true, but Iput myself out there because I knew she wouldn’t have liked it if I witheredaway and died soon after her,” he retorted. “Danny was a good man, and I think he would have felt the same.”

“I know, it’s just… it’s different. You still had to lookafter me.” A knot twisted in Clara’s gut, reminding her of the excitement shehad experienced such a short time ago. “Danny and I wanted to have a kid ortwo, but he didn’t even get to leave me with that.”

“Then maybe that’swhat you need: something to look after that you can adore, but doesn’tnecessarily have the same commitment level as a child,” Dave said. “What’s the term? Pet parent? That’s a thingthese days for young people, yeah?”

“Yeah, for people delusional enough to project humanemotions onto animals so often that they forget what they’re dealing with is not a human,” she frowned. “Just becausesomeone treats an animal like theywould a human child doesn’t mean it’s an appropriate substitute. Plenty of mystudents have been under the delusion that the term ‘fur baby’ doesn’t mean ‘a humanbaby with an unfortunately excessive hair growth condition’ for years;trust me when I say I hope most of them stick to keeping pets and don’tgraduate to adopting human children in the near future.”

“Still, having a petwould do you good. I mean, the fish are all gone, and even if they were there,they couldn’t interact with you, now could they?”

“No…”

“Please give it a bitof thought, will you? For me?” Silence. “For your mum?”

“Fine,” Clara groaned. “I’ll think about it.”

“Thank you.”

A few more minutes of small talk and the phone call ended,leaving Clara alone to her thoughts. She knew that there were plenty of men outthere just waiting for the chance to go out with her and become what Danny hadnot lived long enough to be for her, though she wasn’t entirely sure howgetting a pet would be the way to put herself out there enough to find them.Her father wasn’t always a font of good advice—he was married to Linda for crying out loud—yet the partabout coping with the loss of a spouse… there was something there that she knewwas at least somewhat genuine.

Maybe, just maybe, it was worth a shot.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

The following day, the noise inside the animal shelter wasset at an unpleasant level of rancor that Clara wasn’t entire certain she, orthe staff member that accompanied her to the back, deserved. She had talked toa couple coworkers during lunch, getting a recommendation to this particularone, and she had decided to take the plunge while her mind was still acceptingof the idea. There were all sorts of cats and dogs arguing amongst another, orat least what she presumed to be arguing, with even a small tiger adding adeafening roar that shut all the other animals up for a moment.

“That one’s not up for adoption,” the staff member clarifiedwith a wince. “Just got Timmy there last week out of a hoarder’s place andwe’re waiting on a zoo that can take him.”

“I’m not certain I want a cat anyhow,” Clara said. Shestared at the tiger, uncomfortable with the fact there was only chain-linkfencing between it and her. “They’re a bit fussy, aren’t they?”

“They’re at least more prone to being fussy on average, ifthat’s what you’re concerned about,” the other woman said. “There are cats herewho are just as affectionate as most dogs, and there are plenty of dog breedsthat can give even the most fickle cats a run for their money.” She pointed ata particular dog, a fluffy white one with long, spindly legs, and shrugged.“Vera here is one of them—part poodle and lets you know it. I’d only reallyrecommend her to someone with more experience and time on their hands. What didyou say you did again?”

“I teach secondary school… literature…” Clara replied. Shewas barely paying the staff member any mind, instead glancing around the kennelat the various animals that she knew were up for adoption. Finally, one greydog with perky ears way in the back corner caught her attention. “What aboutthat one?”

“What, Basil? Little beast has been here longer than I have,which is saying something,” the staff member frowned. The dog heard its nameand came shuffling towards the front of the cage, seemingly upset that it waseven summoned. “He keeps on escaping from wherever he goes, always coming backhere. We aren’t entirely sure what he is aside from Scots terrier; they aren’toften that grey or large, nor are their eyes blue, not if they’re purebredanyhow.”

Clara crouched down in front of the cage containing Basiland stared at him. “He’s kinda cute.”

“Honestly, it’s a grumpy old man that keeps on runningaway.”

“Then it’s a good thing I’m not looking for a bouncy, youngpuppy with too much energy for its own good,” Clara said. She stood and gavethe staff member a grin. “I’ll take him.”

“If that’s what you want, ma’am, don’t say I didn’t warnyou,” was the reply. The other woman waited until Clara stepped aside andopened the cage. She bent down to hook the leash onto Basil’s collar when thedog sneezed and walked right past her, calmly making its way towards the exit.

“Dogs don’t normally do that, do they?” Clara noted.

“They do when they’re Basil,” the staff member shrugged.

About half an hour of paperwork later and Clara was puttingher new dog into the basket on the rear of her motorbike. It had seemed ratherirritated by the fact he was made to sit in the back on wire, but she waseventually able to haul him up in there.

“C’mon you big baby,” she grunted. “It’s only until we getto the pet shop and I can find a nice cushion for you… maybe even a carrier…”She finally got him in and frowned. “Maybe a carrier isn’t a good idea—there’sno way you weigh fifty-six pounds like they say, even if you are a skinny thing.If I were to take a guess, I’d say the Airedale in there weighed less thanyou.” Basil laid down and allowed Clara to strap him down safely in the basket,giving her an indignant look.

Now that she thought about it… those eyes were a bit freaky.

After a quick popping in at the pet store and picking upsome takeaway, Clara drove her bike back to her flat block and hauled all ofher new things up to her floor. Basil obligingly took his leash with him in hismouth, watching the human carefully as she juggled her bag bringing everythinginto the cramped flat. The dog then skittered around his new home, leash nowtrailing along, seemingly inspecting the place to see if it was to hisstandards.

“Alright Basil, I assume you know the drill already,” Clarasaid as she opened a can of dog food and put it in the new dog dish. She placedthe dish on the floor and waited for Basil to make his way over and begineating. With him staying still, she was able to take off the worn leash andcollar from the kennel and clipped a brand-new collar around his neck. It was adark navy color, and it seemed to bring out the blue in his eyes even more.“That’s your dish, you sleep in your new basket, no laying on the furnitureunless I’m there to unlatch your claws, and no peeing or taking a dump in theflat unless,” she grabbed the tray of scented training pads and waved it infront of him, “you go in this.”

Basil chewed his food and stared at Clara, seeminglyunimpressed.

“Yeah, yeah, you and your attack-eyebrows probably don’tunderstand a word I’m saying,” she sighed.

Clara then went and began to eat her own dinner, glad thatit was at least still hot enough to not microwave. She began to scroll throughthe news on her mobile as she ate, not paying her new flatmate any heed untilshe felt him head-butt her ankle. Looking down, she saw that Basil was staringup at her, tail (and rear) wagging as he stood next to his dish, which he hadpushed over to her feet.

“I don’t know if curry’s a good thing to feed dogs…” shemused. Basil barked and then whimpered, nudging the bowl with his nose.“Alright, but don’t make this a common occurrence; we don’t need you gettingheavier than you already are.” She took the bowl from the floor and brought itup to the table, spooning some of the rice and sauce in before setting it backdown at the dog’s level. He then began to eat, chomping down voraciously on thetreat as though it was one of its favorites.

Clara nodded; she was going to have to remember that.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

“You seem happy today, Clara. What’s going on?”

Clara glanced up to see Adrian sitting across from her inthe staff room, both of them on their lunch break. He looked concerned—well, hewas always concerned about something—andit was rare that the two of them were alone to talk freely.

“Oh, uh, nothing really,” she shrugged. “I’m just followingsome advice my dad gave me the other day, you know, and it involves rearrangingmy schedule. Let’s hope it’s for the better.”

“What advice is that, may I ask?”

“I got a dog.” She watched his eyebrow go up in confusion.“Dad said I might feel better about… you know… things if I had a pet to take care of, so I went to the shelter andgot an older dog to see how I do with it. If it goes well, I’ll be getting anew dog within a couple of years, and if not, then I’ll do my best to ride itout and then pitch its things in the charity shop once it goes.”

“Not a bad idea,” he nodded. “Say, you think that dog ofyours can play striker in pub league? We still haven’t been able to findsomeone to fill those empty cleats.” They both smiled at that—she wasn’t theonly one grieving, after all.

“It’s not a golden retriever backed by a human stunt team,that’s for sure,” she said. Clara picked up her mobile and pulled up a photoshe had taken of her dog just the previous night. “That’s Basil; he’s aScottish terrier mixed with… something… the kennel wasn’t entirely certain.”

“Maybe it’s part Kerry, or even schnauzer? It looks a bitlike the dog my cousins had as kids that was a mix of those… just…” Adrianshuddered slightly. “It’s got some eyes on it, that’s for certain.”

“I don’t know if I’ve seen eyes like that on a dog before,but then again, I’ve never had cause to notice…”

“Certainly doesn’t make it look very friendly.”

“No, that’s the eyebrows,” Clara laughed. “Its ownindependent state of crossness, those things. Everything from Scotland has tobe cross, you know, even dogs. I should’ve known better.”

“Celia’s husband’s from Edinburgh; maybe we can ask her howto get a Scot to behave,” Adrian joked.

“You were clearlynever out during Celia’s hen night,” she replied. There was then movement outside in thecorridor, catching her attention. Mr. Coburn was attempting to get herattention… with a policewoman standing behind him. “Shit, what’s this about?”She went over to the door and opened it, very poorly trying to stay calm.“Yes…?”

“Are you Miss Clara Oswald?” the policewoman asked, notallowing Mr. Coburn to get a word in.

“Last time I checked—is something the matter?”

“I hate to inform you, but there’s been a reported break-inat your flat and we need your permission to search for any clues that couldlead us to the suspect,” the policewoman said. “Entry doesn’t look forced andnothing appears to have been stolen, but we like to have the residents checkthemselves, just in case.”

“Yes, of course, I’ll be right there,” Clara said. She thenrushed back to her seat and began to clean up her lunch, stuffing the leftoversin the fridge, as well as the marking she had been idly working on beforeAdrian struck up their conversation… Adrian! “Oh, I’m sorry, I don’t know ifI’ll be able to help with taking Grade Sevens today…!”

“It’s fine; just go!” Adrian insisted. “Just make sureeverything’s alright at your place.”

“We will also need you to restrain your dog while we lookaround, Miss,” the officer mentioned. “He seems to be tolerating us so far, butwe don’t want to go too far and then have to call animal control.”

“I just got him too,” she muttered half-heartedly. This wasthe exact opposite of what she needed right then and there.

Once she got the remainder of her things from her classroom,Clara followed the policewoman out of the school and was at least able to rideher bike back home (giving a couple students a smile and wave on the way, justto confuse them). Once she got home, she found Basil sitting vigilant in frontof her bedroom door, glaring at the officers that were wandering about insearch of evidence.

“We have the resident,” the policewoman said, bringing Clarainto the kitchen. There were a couple other officers there, all clearly hersenior thanks to looking more civilian than her traffic cop getup.

“Thank you; I’ll take it from here,” the sergeant said. Thenew woman took a clipboard from an associate and flipped through the papers.“Clara Oswald?”

“Yes,” she affirmed curtly.

“It looks like at about seven after one in the afternoon, aMrs. Singhdal from a couple floors down called to report what looked like a manin your kitchen window,” the sergeant explained. “Mrs. Singhdal then claims tohave knocked, thinking that your father was in town for some sort ofanniversary—I couldn’t get precisely what out of her—but became alarmed whenshe heard a strange voice instead. Do you live alone?”

“Aside from the dog? Yes.”

“Do you have a boyfriend, male friend or family member, maleassociate, or male contractor who would have the keys to, or general access to,your flat aside from the block staff?”

“Just my father, and he lives in Blackpool,” Claraconfirmed. “Before you ask further, I didhave a boyfriend within the past year, but he also died within that amount oftime—actually this weekend will mark a year.”

“I’m sorry to hear that; none of his friends had access to akey via him?”

“Most of his friends are either still in the military orwere coworkers of ours—he would’ve known had he borrowed my key and then itvanished for a bit.”

The following couple of hours were a complete mess forClara. She had to answer way too manyquestions about what was going on in her life for comfort, as well as allowpeople she had never even met have full access to her flat. Not even Basil had full access to her flat, as hewas restricted to the kitchen, sitting room, and the central corridor thatconnected all the rooms together. In the end, the police found nothing ofinterest, leaving her flat with a tip of a couple hats and a direct phonenumber to call in case she did find something unusual in the coming days.

It was now well into evening, creeping towards midnight, asClara sat blankly on her sofa. Basil laid curled up in her lap, allowing her tostroke his fur.

“I’m not very hungry, are you?” she asked. The dog snorted.“There is one thing that I know has been different lately—I’ve been talking awhole lot more since you got here. I wonder how healthy that is…”

Basil wriggled free from his spot underneath Clara’s arm andskittered over towards where his leash hung on a peg near the door. He put hispaws up on the wall so he could stand and nudged it with his nose, giving asclear a signal as he could.

“I guess we can take a walk; might put me in the mood forsome food while we’re out,” she agreed. Clara clipped Basil’s leash on hiscollar and shrugged herself into a coat. It might have been a bit nippy out thepast few nights, but at least she was in London,meaning that she was able to get decent food no matter what time of day ornight it happened to be, no matter what she was in the mood to eat. As long asshe had her mobile, she didn’t care what was going on.

Sure enough, the brisk night air was enough to get her bloodgoing, and by the time the clock struck midnight, she was sitting in a smallcanteen having a sandwich while Basil had some plate scrapings that the managerwas kind enough to set aside. Feeling invigorated, Clara knew that she wasgoing to have to walk off some of her new energy before going to sleep, all ofwhich was going to absolutely destroyher regular sleeping pattern. She found a quiet street for her and Basil tostroll down on their way back home, taking solace in the still night.

Then, suddenly, Basil stopped walking. His already-perkedears twitched before he crouched down in a growl—something was wrong.

“What’s out there, boy?” Clara wondered. “Is it a squirrel?A badger from the park?” She sat on her calves and tried to see where Basil wasgrowling. There wasn’t a person there, nor did it seem like there was anotheranimal. “Are you sure there’s something there…?”

Basil growled again, except this time, he was met by a lowhissing noise. A soft thud came from behind a nearby tree—they were not alone.

“Come on, Basil, let’s get out of here,” Clara said. Shetugged at his leash, yet the dog stood his ground. His fur seemed to stand onend and fluff up as he let out a warning yip to their unwanted company. “Basil,come on,let’s get out… of… here…”

Slowly, the thing that fell from the tree came into sight,confusing Clara beyond words. It was a snake, sort of, except it had two stubbylegs towards its front end and a face that appeared more cat than snake. Basilgrowled again, which resulted in the creature giving a feline-like his… allwhile sticking out its forked tongue.

Clara’s eyes went wide as she froze in horror. She didn’tknow what she was looking at, let alone what to do about it. Basil firmlyplaced himself between the creature and her, growling fiercely as the beingcame closer.

In an instant, the creature attacked. Basil leapt into itspath and the two began to fight. Clara panicked, not wanting to just sit thereon the pavement like an idiot, and quickly began to look around for somethingto use as a weapon. A worn cricket bat with a cracked blade was sitting next toa rubbish bin on the other side of the street—perfect. She ran to get it,coming back to whack the creature as hard as she could to get it to stopcoiling itself around her dog. It hissed at her, attempting to drive her offbefore getting hit in the face with the bat. Once it realized it was notdealing with only one attacker, the creature part-scampered-part-slithered awayinto the park across the street, nabbing a squirrely snack on its way.

“That was… weird…” Clara breathed. She then glanced down atBasil and gasped; he was hurt, bleeding from cuts to his side and face, andlooked as though he could barely breathe based on his gasping breaths. “No,hey, I got you, gimme a mo’…” After sticking the broken bat underneath her arm,she picked up the dog and began to quickly walk towards her flat.

It felt like a million thoughts were racing through Clara’shead at once while she carried Basil back home. First and foremost, she definitely wanted to call that directnumber for the police sergeant, but she knew that she would likely be laughedonto a do-not-answer list the moment she began explaining what was going on.What was that thing? Why did it attack them? Where did it come from? She drovethe thoughts from her mind as she got to her floor and opened the door to herflat—there was no time for that right now.

After making sure the door was shut and locked tightlybehind them, Clara dropped the bat on the floor and went towards the kitchen.She pulled an old towel from the linen cupboard on her way and put that on thekitchen floor, laying the injured Basil atop it. The dog was whimpering in painas she took the collar off him and the sight tore at her—the only reason he washurt was because he had been defending her.

“Alright, let me at least get these disinfected, then we cansee about wrapping them up,” she said. Clara rushed into the bathroom and foundcotton balls and a bottle of surgical spirit, as well as some old, chunkymenstrual pads her gran had bought (for what reason, she did not want to know)that she knew would take care of any bleeding from Basil’s side. She broughteverything with her to the kitchen, putting it down next to Basil.

Then, as if things couldn’t become stranger, it did.

Basil’s fur, no, his skinbegan to ripple, accompanying a sort of loud, sloshy sound. As the dog laythere, he began to grow in size, limbs stretching out and bones cracking asthey rearranged themselves. His fur thinned and retreated until there was onlysome atop his head and a dusting on his extremely pale chest.

Before she knew it, Clara Oswald had a very naked, veryhuman man lying on a towel and bleeding all over her kitchen floor.

“Uh, okay, hold still,” Clara said in a panic. She wet a wadof cotton with some surgical spirit and gently dabbed it atop one of the gasheson Basil’s side. He grunted in pain, curling his body up slightly.

“That hurts!” he snapped. “Just leave me alone!”

Okay Clara, your new dog just saved you from asnake-lizard-cat-thing and then morphed into a Scotsman on your kitchen floor.This couldn’t be that weird, couldit?

Yes. Yes it was very weird.

“I am going to safely assume that this explains why Mrs.Singhdal thought I was being robbed earlier today,” she said. “What the hell are you?!”

“Hard to explain; just give me that.” Basil grabbed themenstrual pad and pressed the absorbent side to his ribcage in an attempt tostop his blood from spilling further.

“Okay, then what was that thing that did this to you?!”

“That’s even harderto explain.”

“Are you going toexplain anything?”

“Maybe if you let me stop bleeding out on your floor, thenyes. Eventually.” He then began to sweat and soon passed out, laying completelystill.

Clara stared at the man that, up until about ten or sominutes prior, had been her dog and contemplated what to do. She poked Basil inthe shoulder and when she did not get a response, decided to continue with herprevious plan of cleaning out the wounds. Working quickly, she was able to gethim cleaned and patched up, finding an old pair of Danny’s basketball shorts onthe bottom of her closet to cover his lower bits as she dragged him into thesitting room. She put him on the sofa—sitting up because it was the only way hecould fit with his long legs—and stared.

What in the heck was going on?

#Whouffaldi #Clara Oswald #Twelfth Doctor #Whouffle #werewolf AU #Doctor Who #fan fiction #replies #Greyface replies #there's plenty more coming #now let's see if I can finish before Halloween #Adrian Davies

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arrowsbane · 6 years

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of seaweed knots and sealskin pelts

@Sumigakure Halloween Event 2017

Wordcount: 1031

Original Prompt: Prompt 12: Character finds out they’re a Supernatural Creature/Being [FFN | AO3]

Rated: T

Notes: For @redhothollyberries because I owe her after that selkie conversation from forever ago.

Summary: In which the people of Uzushio were much less people and much more of the spirit world. Uzumaki Naruto is born far, far from home with a longing in his soul; Because what was born of the sea must return to the sea.

He sneaks through the shadows in silence, creeps along the windowsill and slips seamlessly through doorways and into the vaults. The scroll must be around here somewhere. Naruto brushes past a towering stack of paperwork and has to lunge to catch a box before it finishes sliding off its precarious placement. It’s an old cardboard box, the dust on top of it forming a thick layer – just looking at it makes him want to sneeze. He scrubs the worn label clean, and flinches at the name written in the Sandaime’s curling calligraphy.

Uzumaki Naruto.

He carefully nudges the box open. Inside are papers, photos of people with red hair, a fur blanket, and a lot more dust. Reaching in for the papers, Naruto’s fingers brush up against the fur, and he has to swallow a yelp as a spark of electricity skitters across his palm. In the back of his mind, an echo stirs.

Come home, a voice whispers, come home.

Naruto ignores it, sniffling in order to prevent another sneeze, and pushes on. There’s half a dozen pictures of a red-haired woman, smiling widely in every single one. She’s almost always accompanied by a man who looks rather like a dandelion in human clothes. They’re strangers, but yet… Naruto can’t quite put his finger on it, but something feels oddly familiar.

There’s a scuffling noise from three corridors away, so Naruto hurriedly stuffs the photos and papers down his shirt, and snatches up the blanket before scarpering out the window.

The graduation assignment Mizuki gave him is long-forgotten, and when morning comes Naruto is nowhere to be found.

...

Twelve years ago, Sarutobi Hiruzen watched his village burn.

Twelve years ago, Sarutobi Hiruzen buried his wife and friends.

Twelve years ago, Sarutobi Hiruzen picked up the dirt-covered cone hat marked for the Hokage’s office, and set it back atop his head.

Twelve years ago, Sarutobi Hiruzen cradled a crying child in his arms, and promised a dying woman that he wouldn’t deny her son his heritage.

Twelve years ago, Sarutobi Hiruzen inadvertently lied. And he’d regretted it ever since.

He carried Naruto back to the Hokage’s tower, wrapped in a strange fur skin – a skin Kushina had made him swear to keep safe and protect as if her son’s life depended on it. But after the third assassin found poised over the crib, he’d secreted it away along with all evidence that Uzumaki Kushina had ever existed, and a birth certificate that could never come to light.

He denied Naruto his heritage, and in the end, Konoha lost the last Uzumaki.

…

He doesn’t know what he was expecting, but Naruto finds himself mesmerized by the lapping of the ocean waves. He wanders up and down the beach barefoot, sand squishing between his toes as he watches hermit crabs scurry about with a childish curiosity he’s rarely been allowed to indulge.

Out in the distance, sunlight turns the ocean to a glittering paradise, and dolphins crest the waves. Seagulls cry out, and Naruto breathes the salt air in. It feels like home.

He spends the night camped out on the dunes, has enough training to know how to build a small shelter – dug into the sand and covered by driftwood and woven with dried seagrass. He uses seaweed to chink the holes and watches his fire burn blue and purple from salt-crusted wood he’d gathered up on the bluffs. It’s magical.

The next morning, he wakes to sun on his face and a hermit crab poking his toes, looking as if it’s ready to do battle with both his feet and the world. Naruto happily dubs the crustacean ‘Crab-chan’, and picks the tiny creature up to put on his shoulder.

Predictably, the crab’s claw snaps closed on his ear, and he yelps.

Message received. Crab-chan likes to stay on the ground.

His stomach rumbles, and he frowns. Right. Food. Food is important.

…How is he supposed to catch them again? Something about pointy sticks?

…

There’s a herd of seals down by the waterline, but Naruto doesn’t dare go too close even if he is curious.

That’s alright though, because they’re just as curious about him, and shuffle up the sands to get a better look at the small blonde boy with the fur pelt poking out of his pocket.

Whiskers tickle his next and face, hi-hi-hi-hi-hi, and black noses snuffle at every last bit of skin they can find, and Naruto giggles.

Teeth tug gently at his pelt, what-this?, and Naruto yelps.

“Hey!” he exclaims, “that’s mine!”

The tugging stops, and twelve heads simultaneously tilt to the right. Pup? It’d be creepy if it weren’t so comical. Pup-ours?

Another poke of a cold black nose, this time in the belly, pup-ours-now keeping-pup!, and Naruto giggles again, gently petting the friendly snout.

…

Naruto is quickly adopted into the herd, and spends his nights tucked into a pile of seal-brothers-and-sisters, and it’s the best thing ever because he has a family now.

They teach him to swim and to fish, and it’s awesome.

And then one day, Naruto slips beneath the water with his fur around his shoulders, and finds himself with flippers and fins and actual whiskers in place of whisker-birthmarks.

“Told you so,” says a voice from his left, and Naruto turns to see a smug looking seal who can apparently talk and what the hell?

…

Turns out… when he thought of the seals as family, he wasn’t far off the mark.

The herd introduces themselves – Taura and Santa, Shizue, Nowaki and Nagisa. Umiko is his favorite, and he is hers. He’s the favourite of them all – which is a mindtrip in itself. He’s so used to being unwanted, but they love him, want him, refuse to let him go.

The shinobi of Konoha will search and search and search, will scour the world for the ninth jinchuuriki, for the son of the Yondaime and the Red Death… and they will never find him. Not until he wants to be found – and even if he does… well… It’s never wise to entrap a selkie. The Fae are not the forgiving kind, and where one is, swarms follow.

#of seaweed knots and sealskin pelts #sumigakure halloween event 2017 #sumigakure halloween event 2017: prompt 12 #sumigakure #selkies

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veronicatheslayer · 7 years

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Goin’ To The Chapel And We’re Going To Get Murdered || Ricky and Veronica

Ricky, Veronica and some members of the clergy go on a supply run.

Veronica had been stuck in the church for three days now. It had been three days since the blizzard had really picked up and right now it didn't seem to be showing any signs of stopping. People had sheltered within the church walls, which were surprisingly warm. They had a generator so when a power cut struck they were able to keep the lights on and for a while their stores of food had held out. But it had run out faster than they had expected and that was why Veronica was looking down at a rather deep snow drift several feet below her. "I'll go first," she said, looking at Ricky, Father Duffy and Sister Gretchin. They had been the ones who had volunteered to come with Ricky and her to grab supplies, and as slayers Veronica thought that they should be fine. It wasn't going to be hard, just a bit of a journey to a store, grab some food and the other essentials and then come home. "See you on the other side," she said jokingly, before dropping down into a hanging position from the balcony and crunching into the snow.

If Ricky had known he'd be sleeping in a church with a bunch of nuns he definitely wouldn't have worn a t-shirt that said "save water shower together." He'd given his sweatshirt to a kid two days ago, and as their food stores had started to dwindle, had gone the last 24 hours without eating. The church hadn't stocked much by way of meat anyway. A more pressing concern to Ricky was the madness slowly sleeping into his mind. He hadn't transformed in four days and it was catching up to him. He could see the Jeep's teal outline from the balcony and made sure his keys were in his pocket. Turning back to Father Duffy and Sister Gretchen he looked down to where Veronica had jumped. "Sister I'll jump first and catch you when you jump. You can start the car with Ms. Babineaux and then I'll stick around to make sure Father gets down okay." This was an adventure to be sure

To be quiet honest, there hadn't been much to do other than wait the snow storm out. At least that was what they had thought at first, but as it got worse and worse, Veronica begun to wonder when it would stop. Driving winds and biting cold dug into her and she couldn't help but worry that they'd run out of supplies. That was why she had volunteered for this. Though she was glad that Ricky had come with her. She was also worried about his seal business, she didn't want him to go insane. Maybe they could make a slight detour while the priests and nuns that they were bringing along with them grabbed food. "Come on down Ricky!" she shouted as she looked at around at the mounds where snowmen and snowwomen had been sculpted a few days ago.

As Ricky jumped down into snow that reached nearly to his waist he turned, holding his arms out for the Slayer Nun to leap down. As he caught her he thought he saw movement out of the corner of his eye but dismissed it as he rummaged through his pockets "here's the keys. Heat kicks on pretty quickly so that's a blessing." As she turned to trudge towards Veronica he saw, at least he could swear he did, one of the snowmen start to turn "V! It's been four days so I can't be sure but hostiles in the snow!" She'd know what he meant as he turned back to the balcony "Come on Father! Let's put a hustle on. I'm too pretty for the cold." He didn't like not being able to trust his eyes. He needed to know what he saw was real

Veronica waded through the snow as fast as she possibly could. She didn’t want to be out here anymore than she had to. Her skiing holidays had taught her that the cold could be a ruthless and a brutal killer. Yet as sister Gretchin reached her, she realised that the mounds that had once been covered in snow were now beginning to move. The snowmen that the children had put together a few days ago were now moving, sharp teeth formed in their mouths as they snapped hungrily. “Ricky, grab the Father and get to the Jeep! Sister, get the Jeep running, we need to get out of here.” The Church would be safe but they needed the supplies. Surging through the snow, Veronica did the only thing that she knew how to do, she kicked the head right off of the first snowman who tried to bite her.

Veronica's kick to the head of a sentient snowman was all Ricky needed to know that his eyes hadn't been deceiving him "up on my back, Father. You're too short for snow running." As soon as the priest was holding firmly to his broad shoulders Ricky charged through the snow as fast as he could, keeping an eye out for any moving mounds of snow. As soon as he'd deposited Duffy in the backseat he dove into the driver's seat and slammed into reverse, backing over a snowman trying to gnash on his fender "what the everloving....." be cut himself off before he moved himself even closer to Hell in the eyes of the church as they churned down the snowing roads "alright. That's weird right? Everyone else is on board with the vote that that's weird? Yeah? Good. Where are we going first?"

Honestly, as she knocked the snowman's head off and it kept coming at her, Veronica was now certain that she had seen it all. A few more well placed blows knocked the rest of the snowman to bits, though she couldn't help but notice the way that the snow seemed to surge together once more. That was certainly worrying to say the least. As Ricky's Jeep roared to life and he backed it into the road, Veronica decided that it wasn't time to debate this. Leaping over the back of the Jeep, she sighed as relief flooded her system. "That was very weird," Veronica confirmed as the Jeep cut through snow and sped through the deserted streets of Ashkent Creek. "Go to the general store," she said, "that will have everything we need." Though she wasn't sure that it would have exactly what they wanted, she wasn't about to take the chance and go somewhere riskier. Like near the Common, which was certain to be full of snowmen.

Ricky kept one hand on the gear shift and one hand white-knuckled on the wheel as he drove as fast as he was safely able "Swear on the sea it's you, Veronica. This stuff doesn't happen to me when I'm with other people. Most of the time. Like 80% of my supernatural involvement is with you around." He plowed through a red light, they were the only ones on the road anyway, and pulled to a screeching halt outside the General Store, looking with dismay at the once-adorable family of snowmen that had now turned fanged and bloodthirsty and were approaching the car. "Ice cold hearts, fangs, hungry for flesh." He murmured softly so only Veronica could hear "Its like looking in a damn mirror." He raised his voice "Father! There's a tire iron under your seat. I'm gonna back up and run these things over and we're all gonna make a run for it. But we saw how fast hey reformed so we're gonna have to book it. We ready?" He backed up and revved his engine charging forward again to plow through the living snow "get some!"

Raising an eyebrow as she climbed over Sister Gretchin and Father Duffy, Veronica slid into the front seat besides Ricky already cursing herself for her lack of weaponry. She had thought that the Church of Saint Iron would be the safest place for them to go. Obviously not. That was the last time she didn't bring her daggers with her. "I'd like to say that you were wrong," she replied with a shrug, "but I would be lying, I seem to attract these sorts of situations and believe me I enjoy them about as much as you do." She laughed gently, for the first time since they left the church in good humour, "you're much better looking than the snowmen," she said as he plowed through them. Leaping out of the front seat she moved to the front door of the store, rattling it. "Don't you dare kick that down Veronica," Father Duffy snapped, his voice commanding despite his small stature, "we'll go around the back, come on." Leading the way round the back of the store Veronica couldn't help but bless their luck. So far the snowmen hadn't reformed and there was an open window. "Father, I don't know what the Bible says about open windows and I don't particularly care, get in there and open the door for us, Gretchin, Ricky and I will deal with the snowmen."

Ricky almost burst out laughing at his favorite Slayer getting chastised by a tiny priest. It added to the strange and bizarre nature of the day. As they walked around the back he twirled the tire iron between his hands, breathing as evenly as he could to try to keep himself steadied and in the moment. He planted his back to the wall of the building as he waited for Duffy to get the door open, seeing the first couple of reformed snowmen rolling around the corner of the building "sooner is better than later, Father." He called out as he strode forward to meet the threat, cold steel smashing through the light snow as he attempted to break his assailant down to the smallest possible bits. Anything to give it as much trouble as possible when reforming. "There's a strange sort of sadistic delight in this I gotta admit." He called back to Veronica as he kept slashing and stomping at the snowman. "but I could probably use some help."

Veronica had to admit that she was starting to worry about Ricky. He was beginning to act odd and more odd than usual. She worried that he was neglecting his need to be a selkie and she didn't want him turning mad on her anytime soon. But it wasn't exactly a topic that they could openly discuss now. "You might as well tell him to take his time for all the good it is going to do," she said with a laugh as she saw the first snowman come around the corner, its jaw already snapping. Lunging forward for one of the snowmen, she grabbed it by the sides of its head and wrenched it off the body. Hurling it into the next snowman and knocking it over she turned and began to stomp on it as hard as possible. The snowmen were slow, really they were easy prey, but considering that they didn't stay down for very long and the fact they outnumbered them, Veronica wasn't hopeful of their chances in a prolonged battle. Watching Sister Gretchin, Veronica saw her knock snowman after snowman down. For an older lady she was surprisingly strong, though that was probably the slayer in the nun. "It is certainly a work out," she said as they were backed towards the door, a snowman lunged and Veronica knocked it away as the door swung open and Father Duffy gestured for them to join him inside. "Come on!"

The moment Father Duffy swung the door open, Ricky took one final stomp on the snowman he'd been keeping down and ran for the door, making sure Veronica and Sister Gretchin were inside before he slammed the door shut and locked it back up again. "Okay. So. We're here. Let's grab some carts and get enough food for the people back at the church. We have no idea how long we're going to be stuck there." He watched as the two clergy struck out on their mission before pulling Veronica back towards the door "you might have to leave me behind. It's getting hard to focus. Hard to do anything. I can make it back to my apartment from here but after we load the jeep up I might have to give you the keys and just go home. I've never gone this long before."

Sprinting in the store, Veronica heard a loud thump and a slight crack as a wall of snow that had once been snowmen crashed into the door. Yet despite the slightly worrying crack, everything seemed to be holding. Moving further into the store, Veronica grabbed a cart and was making her way round when Ricky pulled her over. "Is it because of your skin?" she asked, concern immediately flooding her system. "I can't just leave you to get back on your own Ricky," she said immediately discounting the idea, "and don't bother arguing because if I have to tie you up and carry you around I will." She stopped mid aisle, a bag of rice in her hand simply hovering over the cart. "How long can you last? Because once we've gotten the food back to the church I'll drive you to your apartment and then to a swimming pool or the ocean or something."

Ricky groaned in frustration as Veronica proved just as obstinate as he had feared that she would be. He listened to the thumping of snowmen against the thick door and ran fingers through cold and damp hair "yeah. It's been too long and I'm starting to see what my mom always warned me about. You absolutely can and you should. It's just a couple blocks back to my apartment and you have a church full of children to feed." He pulled down several cans of vegetables and corned beef hash as they kept making their way down the aisle "I probably can't make it another 24 hours. I know I can't. I'm starting to lose control of my senses. It's the opposite of fun by the way."

Veronica had already made a decision when Ricky started loading the cart up. "Well we had better hurry up then, because we are working against the clock and I'm not talking figuratively here." She grabbed some more canned goods and made her way to the front door. Pulling her purse out, she dropped a stack of notes on the counter and made sure Sister Gretchin and Father Duffy were ready. Grabbing some bags, she quickly loaded the food into them and grabbed her food. "Here is the plan, we make a break for it, drop you and the food back at the church and then me and Ricky are going to have to head back to his apartment to get him some medicine that he needs." She didn't leave room for questions before kicking the front door open and sprinting out of the store, the snowmen didn't notice her as she leaped into the Jeep, dropped her bags and started the engine. "Come on, get in!"

Whatever else could be said of Veronica, she was a woman of action. Ricky followed her as she charged out the door, turning just in time to see Sister Gretchen catch a mouthful of fangs to the torso. Her scream cut across the empty parking lot and Ricky turned to try to help her, only to be stopped by Father Duffy and herded towards the car "We all knew the risks. We cannot put everyone at the church at risk for one life. She took an oath to do the same if one of us fell." Ricky locked eyes with Gretchin just before she was covered by a herd of snowmen and her screams were cut short. He slammed himself into the passenger seat as Veronica started the car and peeled out, hand automatically seeking the rosary tucked against his chest. "Hail Mary full of grace the lord is with the." The words came out in a tumble as they sped back towards the church "blessed art thou amongst women and blessed is the fruit of thy womb Jesus. Holy Mary mother of God pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death. Watch over our sister Gretchin as she ascends to her final rest at thy holy son's side. In the name of the father the son and the Holy Ghost. Amen." His hands shook as they drove along the road; he was getting awful tired of death.

The screams of Sister Gretchen made Veronica want to help. But she knew that there was nothing she could do, the sister was a slayer who had devoted her life to God. She would be happy that she had died helping the people in her church and yet as the red mist of blood began to envelope the snowmen who tore her apart limb from limb, Veronica couldn't help but wish that she had been able to do something. As Ricky prayed out loud, Veronica said her own silent prayer hoping that Gretchen had truly ascended to the heaven that she had told Veronica of before. She looked back at Father Duffy for a moment, tears were pouring down his face and the sight alone set her off. Fiercely wiping her own tears from her face she turned away from the father and shook her head. Slamming her foot on the pedal and driving as quickly as she could back to the church.

The ride back was fraught with emotions nobody wanted to confront or express. As Veronica plowed through the snowmen in the church courtyard Ricky gathered the bags close to him. The moment she stopped he flung himself from the car and ran the food back into the church as fast as he could. Various Sisters took the bags from him and when all the groceries had been run inside he made his way back to the Jeep and the waiting Veronica "You can stay here. It's safer. I can make it home by myself." He knew she wouldn't, or couldn't, but he felt he had to say it anyway. Something had to break the silence.

Veronica shook her head before slamming her foot on the accelerator and heading to Ricky's house.

#touchofchatzy #touchofpotw #para #p: ricky #goin' to the church and we're gonna get murdered #gore tw

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