#☆ briar sun // thread

[horrorbxby]

• open  starter  ;  ft.  briar sun. • location  ;  up to player. • @shrikestart ‣ beta editor.

“ whatever  it  is  that’s  plaguing  you,  i  promise  i  can  handle  it, ”  briar  told  them  sympathetically  between  sips  of  sweet  iced  coffee  that  she’d  gotten  from  double  shot.  she  was  prying,  prodding,  even.  but  she  did  genuinely  want  to  hear  what  was  bothering  them.  what  esle  was  she  supposed  to  do  with  her  spare  time  in  a  town  rampant  with  serial  killers ?  safety  in  numbers  or  whatever,  she  thought  to  herself.  “ at  come  what  may  you  have  to  have  thick  skin  to  make  it  out  of  a  single  shift.  you’d  be  surprised  at  how  many  people  think  the  store  is  an  open  invitation  to  be  a  total  fucking  creepozoid. ”  

[twisted-beez]

"Goodness, aren't you just the most handsome boy!"

You coo at the purring bundle of fluff sprawled out at your feet, rolling happily amongst the leaves that have settled on the cobblestone pathway up to Ramshackle. Your fingers thread through a black-furred tummy, nearly caught by the playful cat that wriggles excitedly each time he catches you on your way home.

Your companion, who you were about to set off on a walk with, is slightly less pleased. He says nothing, but his lips are pulled into a pout. Tsunotarou seems to be more focused on you than the cat you're showering with affection. Something unfamiliar tugs at his chest. A childlike envy that a prince ought to be ashamed of having.

But something just felt wrong with your words. More specifically, the subject to which they were directed.

The heir to Briar Valley is cautious to reign in his emotions. That doesn't stop the light drizzle that begins to pour. You, ever-observant, are broken from your trance with the playful cat and look up to him. Your smile falters from worry- then quirks back into place as you snicker, noting the turn of his lips.

"Tsunotarou- are you jealous?"

"No."

Thunder booms. You can't help but laught at how silly the situation is, and the charm of your delight- no matter it's direction at him- makes Tsunotarou's chest flutter. He thinks to protest, insisting you not tease him, but thinks he'd be sad if you stopped, too.

"Sorry, I know I'm supposed to be spending time with you right now. Shall we get going?" Your consideration warms his heart. His tantrumous moods never last long when you're involved. Your company melts any dissatisfaction or distress he has away like his own fiery breath melts ice cream in his mouth. The delight thereafter is similar as well. Better, maybe. Definitely.

"You have done nothing wrong," he answers, smooth and cordial, relieved that you've given him a way out of the question so easily. The sun shower is over in moments as steady conversation settles in.

A troublesome little cat trails along behind, not quite ready to give up his source of affection to a dragon.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

I think you should make Farena and Malleus meet again just to humble Leona a lil’ 😜 think you did a birthday thing where that happened and I want more lmao

Anon is referencing this set of interactions (for Leona’s birthday in 2021): Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3

*rubs hands together* 😈 Time to bust out L*ona's sexy hot brain calls for this... HELP ME I'M SO OJITANPILLED RIGHT NOW

Family means Nobody is Left Behind or Forgotten.

"Kingscholar."

"Lizard."

The Botanical Garden's flora shuddered as the two princes--lion and dragon--regarded each other. They stood several paces apart, Malleus upon a small bridge over an artificial waterway, Leona shrouded in the shadows of wide palm leaves. Combined, their auras were overwhelming, filling the air with a crackling tension like that of wild sparks of electricity.

"Leona? Who is..."

A third figure, one half hidden by foliage, peered out at Malleus. His hair was a fiery red-range mane, his eyes a deep brown, skin the color of chestnuts under golden robes threaded with prancing animals. Everything about the man radiated warmth, as though he were the living embodiment of the sun.

Malleus's lip curled. "It seems I'm disturbing your private forum. Forgive me, I will see myself out."

"Wait."

The red-haired man fully emerged. A pair of lion ears and a tail similar to Leona's came into view. He smiled broadly--and Leona visibly cringed.

"You are... my younger brother's friend, aren't you? The one who helped Cheka find his way when he was lost on campus. I remember your face from Leona's birthday party. I don't believe we had a chance to be properly introduced to one another! Leona was shy and steered us away from each other last time." He approached Malleus without hesitation and stuck out his hand. "Falena."

The fae prince tested the name. "You are the acting regent of Sunset Savanna. The elder Kingscholar."

"Haha, that's right! Leona told you about me, did he?"

"Yeah, keep dreaming," Leona snorted.

"... My, it would be rude of me to make my exit now." Placing one foot in front of the other, Malleus smoothly dipping into a bow. "Malleus Draconia."

"Draconia! As in, crown-prince-of-Briar-Valley Draconia?"

It took all of Leona's willpower not to roll his eyes. Anyone with half of a brain cell would instantly be able to clock this depressing guy's telltale horns.

"The very same."

The surprise that flooded Falena's face quickly dried, giving way to merry laughter. "Leona's got friends in such high places!"

A scoff.

"Would you listen to yourself? I keep hearing you repeat friend, friend, friend like a chattering parrot without one shred of evidence to suggest that would be the case." Leona rolled his shoulders and, smirking, languidly lifted a hand to Falena and Malleus. "To put me and the lizard on equal social standing is a little insulting, don't you think? We're on entirely different playing fields. Crown prince of Briar Valley and acting regent of Sunset Savanna... That sounds like a much better fit to me."

He internally ground his teeth.

Smile and bear with it, Leona coxed himself. You can't let this opportunity slip through the cracks. The chance to establish cordial relations with other countries doesn't come delivered to you on a silver platter every day. Get them to make that connection if it's the last thing you do. If you play your pieces right...

"... Hey, how is that irrigation project coming along?" Leona prodded his brother. "Last I heard on the news, there was a protest blocking construction."

Falena frowned--the first time that day. "It could be going better."

"Irrigation..." Malleus brought a finger to his chin. "You're in the process of constructing waterways?"

"Yeah, to channel water directly to crops," Leona snipped. "As one destined to ascend the throne, surely you're familiar with the concept."

"So it is akin to gargoyles."

"Oi, ain't no one here talkin' about gargoyles!"

"On the contrary, Kingscholar. Gargoyles were designed to redirect rainwater from buildings, thus protecting them from wear and tear. Irrigation systems exist to funnel water to desired areas. It is a similar enough concept."

Let him have this one. Keep the conversation moving!

"Most in our country walk a long way to the nearest source of water--a well or something--and draw buckets one by one, then walk back with it. Real inefficient." Leona dragged out a sigh. "Unfortunately, our people deeply cherish living in harmony with nature. They come out in droves to push against our attempts to improve their circumstances. It's a thorn in our sides."

"Now don't say it like that," Falena tutted. "We are the royal family. It falls to us to assuage our people of worry. If we expand slowly and in an environmentally conscious manner... I'm sure we can all come to an understanding."

"You'll have to excuse my brother. He's got a bleeding heart."

The comment rolled off of Malleus's back like rainwater.

"Hm..." He looked to be lost in thought, his lashes lowering. "I see. Implementation is never as easy as simply giving the order to act.

"I have visited Silk City on a trip with classmates. Their waterways are second to none in all of Twisted Wonderland. Though the climate is dry and sweltering, the children of man that reside there have managed to tame those waters and optimized them for trade.

"Such systems do not exist in my home of Briar Valley, so I cannot say I am familiar with them. We, too, as fae, revere Mother Nature. The last thing we would want is to turn our backs on her and destroy her blessings. However, I saw with my own eyes that those Silk City waterways have brought much prosperity to the people. Perhaps it would be prudent if you were to explain this to your countrymen, along with providing a detailed plan of how you do not intend to expand at the cost of ravaging nature."

"Exactly, exactly!!" Falena beamed, his face like the sun coming out after a storm. "You understand me so well, my friend."

"Friend...?" Malleus's eyes went wide. "Me?"

Checkmate.

"Oh, would you look at that," Leona purred sarcastically, "you've gone and earned my dear onii-sama's respect and admiration. How good for you."

"It sounds like we're birds of a feather, Malleus. From one prince to another... I think you've got a shining future ahead of you." Falena clapped his younger brother on the shoulder, earning a glare from him. "Just like Leona here!"

"This isn't about me," he hissed back. "This is between you and the lizard."

Falena blinked. "But weren't you the one to introduce us?"

"That he was," Malleus agreed with a chuckle. "Kingscholar has a talent for bringing together the most unlikely of people. It's something I've noticed about him."

"It's true, he does!!" Falena had his sibling by both shoulders now. And that massive grin--Oh no, Leona thought. He's switching from Useless King mode to Doting Older Brother mode! "Leona's so good with people! I had the chance to meet some of his dorm members earlier today--there's a variety of beastmen in his dorm, all united under him. That's really amazing!"

"Yes, it's impressive. I've heard that, among beastmen, traditions and beliefs are drastically different. It is a unique challenge to bring them together--yet Kingscholar achieves this flawlessly." Now it was Malleus's turn to smirk. "Fae are quite varied as well. It will soon be my responsibility to bring about that same unification. Fufufu... Mayhaps I should look to Kingscholar as an exemplar."

Leona directed his glare at Malleus. This scaly bastard...!

"No thanks. I want no part in that," he replied bluntly. "I should leave the ruling to you kings."

"Leona," Falena protested, "he's correct. If you were to lend your help, set an example... We could--" he stopped, correcting himself. "You could unite so many people. I know you could."

"This again," he spat, those few words coated with venom.

It always came back to that.

The promise of acceptance, respect. Rewards for all his efforts. A prize dangled before him, always snatched away at the last possible second.

"... I've said enough here."

Leona turned on his heel, shoving his hands into his pockets, and began strolling away. Deeper and deeper into the thicket. Ignoring his brother calling after him, the frantic footsteps following.

"Kingscholar."

There was an eruption of green light in Leona's path. When it dissipated, Malleus stood in front of him. He looked visibly displeased.

"Out of my way," Leona growled, attempting to step around him.

Another flash, and Malleus teleported himself in front of his fellow dorm leader once again. "You will not simply walk away from this," he warned.

"I can walk away whenever I like. You're the kings discussing your domains. This doesn't concern me."

"That is not what I meant." Malleus's brows drew together. "You will not simply walk away from family."

"What do you know about family?!" Leona snarled. "Don't act like you have any leg to stand on."

"You shall mourn that you did not cherish them once they are already lost to the abyss." His voice was dark, commanding. "You will hear what your brother has to say."

Leona held his stare--the danger in it, sharp as a blade. He glanced back, spotting Falena with his fiery hair amid the leaves and vines, as mournful as a kitten that had been left out in the rain.

There's no getting out of this. If I bust out my strongest magic here, the entire Botanical Garden is going to be sanded and I'll never hear the end of it from Crewel. Ugh, I've gotta opt for a tactical surrender.

Sending Malleus his most scathing look, he managed one final curse.

"Damn you, lizard."

Maybe he had been the one checkmated today.

[theladyofbloodshed]

Chapter 3 of 6

The key scraped in the lock. Eris couldn’t find the dignity to be embarrassed as Nesta entered while he remained pressed into the corner of the room, his blanket brought to his chin.

‘Mister Crane?’

‘It was a Headless Horseman.’

She gave a slow blink. ‘Do not excite yourself.’

‘But it was a Headless Horseman.’

‘Of course it was.’

Eris’s breath came out like a rattle. His ribs constricted upon his lungs ‘No. You must believe me, Miss Tassel. It was a Horseman. A dead one. Headless.’

‘I know,’ Nesta agreed.

‘No, you don’t know because you weren’t there. But it’s all true. It is a Headless Horseman.’

Nesta edged onto a sliver of the mattress and reached for his hand. Her own were cold. ‘We all told you, Eris.’

That they had. And he’d washed it away as nonsense. But how could it be? Eris had seen optics and trickery deployed to great effect. Sleight of hand to look like magic. None of it could explain the Headless Horseman that he’d witnessed.

After Nesta had forced a strongly-brewed tea down his neck, she pressed him on what he intended to do next. What Eris wanted to do was climb onto Gunpowder and return to New York as quickly as the horse would carry him. But when he looked into those pleading grey eyes, his words melted on his tongue. It had to have been madness that seized him, for he reached forwards to graze his knuckles down her cheek.

‘Well, now I know who the culprit is, I must examine the Western Woods to discover the cause and remove it.’

The corners of Nesta’s mouth ticked up. ‘You will find no volunteers, Mister Crane. Fear of the Horseman has made cowards of our village.’

‘Then I will go alone, I suppose.’

She reached for his hand again. ‘I shall ride with you.’

Together, they rode for the woods with Nesta Van Tassel proving that she had a mightier heart than all of the men in Sleepy Hollow. There was fierce determination upon her face as she urged the horse on through the low-hanging branches that tried to tangle in her hair.

‘There must be a common thread between the Van Garretts, Briar, Bron, and now Lucien.’

‘Everybody has dealings with everybody in this place, Mister Crane.’ Nesta blew out a breath. ‘Do you hear that?’

‘I hear nothing.’

She shook her head. ‘Nor I. No birds. No crickets. It’s all so quiet. I cannot say that this is a tranquillity I enjoy.’

They rode on although they found no cause for alarm beyond the eerie silence. Eris could not forbid himself from watching Nesta. Her face was one of classic beauty. The severity of her expression only enhanced it. For her, he bucked up his courage.  

When they reached an old, wooden cabin wedged between a rock fall, Nesta touched his wrist. The feeling was like lightning skittering through his veins.

‘They say the Witch of the Woods lives here.’

‘May we enter?’

Nesta offered him half of a smile. ‘Are you so brave, Mister Crane?’

For her, he would try to be. With a swallow, he stepped forwards and rapped twice on the door.

A croaky voice that made him nauseous called, ‘Enter.’

Threads criss-crossed upon the ground. A great weaving loom hid the figure from view, but Eris spotted a cuff around her wrist which chained her to the ground. Her nails were overgrown, her face covered from view with a veil.

‘You seek the warrior bathed in blood… the Headless Horseman.’

‘We do.’

The witch rocked on her chair, fingers plucking at threads. ‘Follow the trail to where the sun dies. Where spring meets the wall. Follow to the tree of the dead.’

She pulled her wrist, as if testing the cuff, so Eris backed up a step, an arm curling around Nesta to sweep her behind him.

‘When you seek it, climb down to his resting place.’

There was a long pause. For a moment, Eris believed the Witch of the Woods had fallen asleep.

‘And then?’ He prompted.

The witch leapt from her chair, the bolt in the ground rupturing. She was upon him – all claws and teeth – as she tried to devour him.

Eris tried to roll, tried to push her away. She was too strong. Unnaturally strong as she bore down upon him.

The witch gave a sudden grunt of pain and slumped forwards on top of him. Eris groaned as he pushed her off onto the floor. Looming over them, Nesta held the iron poker from the fire.

‘Mister Crane?’

‘I should like to leave, Miss Van Tassel.’

‘Oh, thank goodness. We are of similar mind.’

With light still remaining in the day, they journeyed on in search of the pit of evil. Nesta had an idea of where the witch had meant.

‘There was a wall, many years ago, built through the forest. Nobody remembers why. A most strange occurrence. It is not far from here.’

The remnants of a stone wall cut through a portion of the forest. They followed it westwards until flowers grew between the cracks despite the season. Nesta pointed a finger towards a tree. The bark was soft and peeling like scabbed skin. It bled red sap as Eris peeled a portion off.

‘I suppose it is here then.’

‘Unless you know of another tree beside a wall, Mister Crane.’

At the base of the tree, supple roots formed a mesh. Gingerly, Eris cut through them with the knife from the sheath on his hip – then recoiled.

Five heads were pressed into the hollow.

‘He… he tries to take the heads back with him,’ Eris breathed.

A crow cawed above their heads.

‘We must leave this place,’ Nesta urged.

He had been inclined to agree until he saw the disturbed earth a few yards away. Without a shovel, Eris used his hands to dig.

‘A grave.’

Nesta looked down at the uncovered bones. ‘Without a skull. What does it mean?’

Eris stared down at the bones too. ‘I wish I could answer that.’

A sudden shriek came from Nesta then Eris felt himself being tugged to the ground with Nesta’s warm body on top of his. Before he could wonder over the manner of her mounting, a suture ripped through the earth near the base of the tree. From it, the Horseman erupted. He did not linger.

‘We must return to Sleepy Hollow.’

***

Nesta raced for her home with the promise to remain inside where it was safer as Eris galloped towards the bridge on Gunpowder. He found the Horseman engaged with Cassian, the latter with a knife embedded in his calf.

It was a curious sight. The Horseman seemed to want to leave. He would disarm Cassian then aim for the horse which waited for him some yards away.

‘Stop! Don’t you see? He is not after us.’

But Cassian would not stop engaging with the headless figure.

Eris grabbed a sickle to provided support, but the Horseman was skilled with a blade.

‘We cannot win this, Cassian.’

‘I will die defending this hollow.’

He threw his sword which landed between the Horseman’s shoulder blades.

Eris knew then that they truly were dealing with a being of the supernatural kind because this did not fell the Horseman; it merely agitated him.

‘Now you’ve annoyed him.’

The horseman plunged his blade towards Eris’s chest, but at the last moment, he was able to curve his body so the blade pierced beneath his collarbones. Pain brough him to his knees. A wheezing breath escaped through his teeth.

He tried to force himself upwards as Cassian continued engaging the spectre.

And then it was done.

The Horseman had raised a scythe and ended Cassian’s life.

***

The moon had claimed dominion over the sky when Eris awoke. He had been moved to his bed in the Van Tassel household. Sitting beside him, reading in silence, was Nesta. When he moved, her hand pressed against his chest.

‘You must rest, Mister Crane. You were injured by the Horseman.’

A wound of two inches wide sat below his collarbone where tissue met his shoulder. The wound had cauterized so he had not experienced significant blood loss.

‘We can be thankful that you remain amongst the living.’

‘I tried to stop Cassian but…’

 Nesta stroked a hand against his face. His eyes fluttered closed at the contact. ‘No one could have done more. There was none more stubborn than Cassian.’

‘You must understand, the Horseman was not set to kill Cassian – or me. He does not kill for the sake of killing – he chooses his victims carefully.’

Nesta pressed her lips together then reached for a tea pot to pour him something. ‘Your fever is breaking. This is good.’

‘Sleepy Hollow. Who did the Horseman claim tonight?’

‘Kallias, the horse master, and his wife, Viviane. She is a midwife.’ Nesta shook her head. ‘Their small son too.’

‘A child?’

‘Four victims in a single night. The Horseman becomes bolder.’

Eris sank against the pillows, clutching the mug of tea tightly as though it could root him to the spot. His hair was swept from his face by Nesta’s cool fingers. ‘You spoke in your sleep. It was most fitful.’

They were dreams that had plagued him for many years.

‘I do not think you were a happy man when you came to Sleepy Hollow. I think this place has made such wounds fester.’ She touched a hand to his forehead. ‘I cannot cure this world, but I would have you live happily within it. Tell me what you dreamed, Eris.’

‘How I found my mother dead. How good and evil sometimes wear each other’s clothes. She was an innocent. A child of nature. Murdered… by my father.’

‘Your own father?’

‘Yes. Murdered to save her soul. By a Biblical tyrant behind a mask of righteousness. I was seven when I lost my faith – and my mother.’ Eris forced a mouthful of the tea down. ‘I believe in sense and reason. An ordered universe. I should not have come to a place where my rational mind has been so controverted by the spirit world.’

‘Is there nothing you will take from Sleepy Hollow that was worth coming here for?’

Their eyes met. Her own were unique. He had never seen such a startling grey. It disarmed him.

‘A kiss – and how rare a thing. A kiss from a lovely woman before she saw my face or knew my name.’

Her eyes fell to her lap bashfully. ‘A kiss without sense or reason in a revelry.’

‘Forgive me. I talk of kisses when you have lost your brave man Cassian.’

‘I have shed my tears for Cassian… and yet my heart is not broken.’ She met his gaze again. ‘Do you think me wicked?’

‘No. But perhaps there is a little bit of the witch in you, Nesta.’

Her head tilted. ‘Why do you say that?’

‘Because you have bewitched me.’

[amandacanwrite]

Violet Thread of Fate || Part Five : A Kiss

Part One || Part Two || Part Three || Part Four || Part Five || Part Six || Part Seven || Part Eight || Join Taglist

POV || 3rd Person Gender Neutral Tav (The Fox from The Fox and The Bear) x Halsin Silverbough

Scenario|| Elinna Inklynn is an orphan with an uncanny ability to mess up even the simplest of spells. It’s not her fault; she hasn’t ever had access to a proper teacher. But she has had access to books, and she’s read about a certain gentleman wizard in Waterdeep that may just be willing to help her.

She books passage on a ship from the Moonshae Islands and sails to Waterdeep, only to be rejected by Gale Dekarios. He doesn’t take on apprentices.

But their paths become inextricably intertwined when an enormous Nautiloid targets the City of Splendors.

Word Count || Just under 4,000 words

Warnings || Mentions of abuse and neglect. 18+ content, minors DNI. Mutual oral, teasing, size difference. Please let me know if I've neglected anything.

A/N || Hello, I return from the grave with prezzies. Many of you read my halsinxtav fic and now they are in Violet Thread of Fate officially! I have had a very chaotic four months, but things are beginning to stabilize, luckily. I will make a post shortly catching you all up on the everything!

Taglist || @verba-writing @softvampirewhump @horizonstride @thoughts-of-bear @mymybirdie @tiedyedghoulette @drabblesandimagines @madwomansapologist @hijirikaww @tryingtowritestuff24 @laserlope @auroraesmeraldarose @puckprimrose @dont-try-pesticide @cherifrog @circusofthelastdays  @nourangul @crucibelle @fan-aaa-tic

THIS CHAPTER IS EXPLICIT. MINORS DNI!!

A Kiss

Briar woke up to the feeling of feather soft kisses on the curve of their narrow shoulder. 

They still weren’t used to this reality; one in which Halsin took every moment he could to indulge in them. But it was always a pleasant thing to wake up to. 

A large, rough-hewn hand took the place of those kisses, smoothing a path down their arm. They felt pleasantly dwarfed by Halsin’s touch, their skin warming in a low intensity flush–as if Halsin carried the very essence of the sun in his fingertips. 

A low burn in Briar’s belly joined that warmth as Halsin tangled his fingers with theirs and kissed up the curve of their neck. 

His voice was a low rumble in Briars ear, hot breath making the back of their neck prickle. 

“Are you awake, my heart?” he asked. 

“Reluctantly…” Briar admitted, their lashes fluttering as they turned onto their back to look up at their lover. 

He was there, propped up on his elbow and looking down at them. His hair was unbound and hanging around his face in gentle, undulating waves. Briar loved it when Halsin’s hair was down and wild. Loved it in a way they could scarcely admit until recently…until Halsin had finally told them that he’d wanted for them in the very same way they had wanted for him. Until that balmy afternoon when they’d kissed under the dappled shade of an oak tree. Until that kiss became deeper and more and…

“Perhaps there’s some way I could help you embrace the rising sun with a bit more enthusiasm?” He offered playfully. 

“I will remind you that foxes are nocturnal creatures,” they responded. 

“Mmn–as you remind me most mornings,” he teased. “I’m beginning to sense a theme.”

“I don’t like what you’re implying,” Briar said, feigning that it was a great affront to their honor.

Halsin’s smile took on a sharper, hungrier quality. He released Briar’s hand and smoothed it over their bare belly before scooping them into his arms and adjusting them onto their back. He leaned in closer until Briar could smell the gentle aromas of tobacco and pinewood coming off of his skin. “And just what am I implying, little fox?” he said. 

That low burn intensified into something warmer than sunlight–something more akin to the hot smolder of a campfire. 

“That I am misrepresenting my sleepiness in order to get something out of you…” Briar said, their voice dropping down nearly a full octave. 

“And what do you have to get out of me, little fox?” he asked. 

Briar shrank into the bedroll beneath them, feeling their face warm as they pressed their lips together. 

Halsin tilted his head and let out a warm, mirthful laugh. “My heart,” he said. “After the many times we’ve indulged in each other’s bodies…you would think you would be more comfortable with telling me what you want. We don’t even sleep fully clothed most nights.”

Briar looked askance before lifting their thumbnail to their teeth and gnawing at it. Halsin lifted his hand to catch their wrist and pull their hand away. “You don’t need to avoid me, my love.”

Briar looked back up at Halsin and let out an exhale. “I know I don’t…” they said. “I suppose that I…I just…”

Halsin looked at them intently, ever patient as they worked out the finer points of what they were feeling. While he waited, he smoothed his hand through Briar’s wild tangle of hair, knowing how it soothed them. 

As Briar closed their eyes and allowed themselves to calm, the thoughts started to come together a little easier; a little more clearly. 

“It still doesn’t feel right…” they finally said. “To want things with you…to tell you that I want you. It still feels like you’ll wake up tomorrow and realize how ill suited I am for you.”

“Ill suited?” he asked. “You needn’t suit me. You’re not a tunic, or a piece of armor. You’re an individual–you’re entirely your own being and beautifully crafted by nature. If anything, I am lucky that you’ve taken such an interest in me.”

“I’m sure there are people at the grove who would disagree,” Briar said. 

“And those people are not ones I wish to interact with–moreover, they aren’t me,” he insisted. “I’m here because I love you–not someone’s opinion of you. I’m not doing you a favor by choosing you as the one I share my bed and my life with–so long as you’ll have me.”

“I can’t even imagine a day where I wouldn’t have you,” Briar said. 

“Well, then, we’re in agreement, aren’t we?” Halsin said, his smile gentle. “So, dear heart…what do you wish to get out of me? Tell me your desire. Whatever could you be leveraging these lazy mornings to get out of me?”

Briar’s chest started to rise and fall with a newly stoked want. They lifted a hand and brushed it gently over the strong line of Halsin’s jaw, smoothing their lithe fingers into his loose hair. 

“I want you,” they said. 

Halsin’s eyes went faintly hooded. “Tell me more,” he said. “Tell me how you want me. Tell me where.”

They let out a shuddering breath willing themselves to find the words inside of them. They were so used to going at whatever pace was set by their lovers. They were usually happy to simply be participating–to have even gotten an invitation to enjoy someone’s body in the most intimate way. 

It was not something Halsin was willing to abide, however. 

Despite little more than a tenday passing since Halsin and Briar had left the grove, they had enjoyed each other plenty of times in varying degrees of intensity, at various points of the day. They’d lovingly explored each other. Halsin was happy to take the lead at first, at least that was how it seemed to Briar. But for the past few days, he had encouraged them to be more vocal–more clear. 

It was not at all what they were used to with a partner. And it was proving to be one of the more challenging things about their seedling union. 

“I can’t…” they said, feeling sheepish as they always did. 

“You can, my heart,” Halsin said tenderly. “And you will be rewarded for doing so. Tell me how I’m to enjoy your body today and I will happily oblige you.”

Briar swallowed dryly, feeling their flush spread to their pointed ears as they nodded. 

Halsin wound one of Briar’s curls around his index finger as he waited patiently for their answer. Briar did their best not to collapse into themselves as they worked up the nerve to speak. 

“I want to be…” they said, their voice quiet. “T-tasted by you…again.”

Halsin nodded, as if discussing what they should have for breakfast once they stumbled out of their tent together. “And what shall I taste, dear heart?” he asked. 

“My chest,” they said breathlessly. 

“I do so love to kiss you there,” Halsin agreed as he adjusted himself to lean over Briar, bracketing them between his large, strong arms. 

Briar found themself distracted by the feeling of something stiff against the curve of their inner thigh. “Where else?” Halsin asked. 

“M-my stomach,” they whispered–not because they were shy–but because they were  losing command of the parts of their mind that enabled them to speak. Something far more primal–far more wild–was taking over. 

“You spoil me,” Halsin cooed. “Is that where you wish for me to stop?”

Briar shook their head, almost panting now. “Lower,” they said. “I want you to taste me.”

Halsin let out an aroused breath of his own, the exhale pulling a low growl along with it. “You are providing me with a veritable feast,” he rumbled. “How lucky for me that it shall leave us both sated.”

Halsin closed the distance that still remained between the two of them and pressed a soft kiss to Briar’s parted lips. It was a gentle one–they always started gentle, Briar had learned. Their lower lip was captured between halsin’s. Briar brushed the tip of their tong against the edge of Halsin’s upper lip, and Halsin renewed the kiss again, rolling his insistent tongue into their mouth. 

Briar’s voice sounded–trilling and reedy. They set their hands on Halsin’s shoulders and smoothed them over the curving musculature of his arms. Their thumb brushed over the prominent vein on the inside of his bicep–a little detail they’d often fixated on back before they’d known Halsin desired them in the same way.

Briar seized his lower lip between their teeth and suckled on the supple curve of it, drawing a delightful growl from the archdruid. Halsin’s hands smoothed pleasantly heavy paths over Briar’s sides, his palms digging into the softer planes of their body, his thumbs gently pressing against the crests of their hip bones. 

Briar let out a soft, melodic sound as they exhaled through their nose, long lashes fluttering as they surrendered once again to the intoxicating feeling of being touched by Halsin. Each time they made love it was like being touched for the first time for Brair. Each time was just as thrilling as the first time. 

Halsin parted from the kiss and brushed the tip of his nose against Briar’s, smiling contentedly before continuing. He kissed the gentle curve of Briars cheek, the point where their neck met the elegant column of their neck, the hollow of their collar bone, the sloping curve of their chest. 

Briar let out a soft breath, the heat in their stomach starting to spread in a tingling ripple through their body. That heat traveled to the tips of their toes, the ends of their fingers, the shell of their ears. Their freckled skin donned a rosy, bronze flush across their shoulders; their cheeks. That same heat caused their slackened lips to swell and made the soft mounds of their nipples blissfully sensitive as Halsin captured one of them between his lips. 

Briar inhaled sharply as that gentle sensation came to a sharpened crescendo when Halsin gently caught the hardening bud between his teeth. 

They combed their fingers through Halsin’s loose hair, gathering some of it in their hand as they looked at him with hooded eyes. Halsin met that gaze, his own eyes full of tantalizing promise as he parted from Briar’s chest. 

“You set my skin ablaze when you look at me like that, my heart,” he said as he moved to the so-far-neglected nipple and kissed it noisily. “It makes me want to devour you.”

Briar let out a soft breath, watching intently as Halsin did a slow, lazy roll of his tongue over their nipple. “Perhaps I want to be devoured,” they said breathlessly. 

Halsin only smiled and planted another noisy kiss at the tip of their sternum. To the soft slope of their belly…the mound of their pelvis… the sensitive skin of their inner thigh. Each one bringing him further and further down Briar’s body and closest to the most sacred of places. 

“My own private altar of worship,” Halsin said, his voice the powerful rumble of a rockslide; the suffocating thrill of an avalanche. “How blessed I am to be allowed here, to look upon you in all of the beauty you are.”

Briar felt the gust of Halsin’s warm breath against their swollen arousal. The anticipation of what would come next was enough to make their lithe body arch and squirm; the heat in their stomach becoming the rush of a leap from atop a great summit. 

Halsin’s large hands smoothed from their backside to the back of each of Briar’s knees. His touch was gentle, yet insistent as he hooked each knee over his broad shoulders. 

A little sound escaped Briar’s lips involuntarily; something somewhere between a moan and a whimper–a sound of distress and a sound of need. 

“Patience, lover,” Halsin said, his tongue sounding wet in the well of his mouth. “I wish to savor you as only I might.”

But Briar didn’t have patience–they didn’t want to wait any longer. They wanted to feel Halsin’s mouth upon them–feel what it was to be devoured by him. It was a little death they wanted to experience again and again. 

Briar smoothed both of their hands back into Halsin’s hair, balling their slender fingers just above his pointed ears. They looked down to see Halsin staring up at them–the look in his eyes equal parts warning and indulgence. 

“Please,” Briar whispered, soft as a prayer. 

Halsin gave a gravelly chuckle as he lowered his mouth to them and closed his mouth around the center of Briar’s focus. 

Briar let out a sweet sound of relief as they rolled their hips against Halsin’s soft lips. Their thighs squeezed tighter around Halsin’s head, already feeling overstimulated as Halsin’s tongue stroked them in slow, practiced paths. Halsin let out a satiated noise, the sound vibrating through their center. 

It was easy to enjoy Halsin’s attention–after all, he was more than practiced after three centuries of life. Still, Briar was eager–perhaps too much so–too ready to reach a climax as soon as the experience started. As they rolled their hips into Halsin’s mouth again, the druid placed one firm hand on the flat plane of their pelvis and pressed down with gentle strength, grounding the smaller elf and enforcing the leisurely pace he so enjoyed. 

He tasted them deeply; slowly, from base to agonizingly sensitive tip, lingering to suckle as his eyes closed in his own ecstasy. 

Briar tried to buck like a wild horse, but Halsin’s hand remained an ever-present anchor. 

“Halsin,” Briar begged. “Please, I want more…”

With his free hand, he reached up to dip the tip of his middle finger into Briar’s mouth, collecting moisture from the pool of saliva gathered beneath their tongue. Briar closed their lips around the digit, suckling at it once, twice. Then they grasped his wrist and pulled the hand far enough away to kiss the fingertip. 

“Not that,” they said, knowing full well how he planned to use that prepped finger. Halsin always prioritized their pleasure when they shared these intimate moments together. There were times Briar allowed it–and there were times Briar found their own pleasure in giving Halsin his. “I want to taste you too,” they clarified. 

Halsin freed his preoccupied tongue to look up at them, his eyes dark with primal hunger. “Are you sure, my heart?” he asked. “I’m not sure I’ll be able to control myself–it’s already overwhelming enough to taste the promise of your pleasure on my tongue.”

“I’m sure,” they said. 

His brows dipped slightly. “I may become rougher with you than I intend to.”

Briar’s heart raced and they swallowed as their mouth became dry at the thought of it. 

As much as Briar loved that Halsin was such a gentle giant, they couldn’t help but thrill at the idea of the chase–at the idea of such primal, carnal enjoyment. The idea of Halsin losing his control because of them….well it was almost enough to render them into a puddle. 

“I think I’ll like that,” Briar admitted in a timid whisper. 

Halsin’s brow lifted and his head cocked back in surprise. “Is that right?” he said with a sharpened smile. 

Halsin scooped his arms under Briar, supporting their back and lifting them up with ease. Briar yelped, fingers tangling even tighter into Halsin’s hair as he unceremoniously rearranged their bodies to a more comfortable position–a position more conducive to…mutual feasting. 

Halsin chuckled before pressing a wet kiss to Briar’s aching arousal. It was everything they could do to stop themselves from crumbling in Halsin’s arms. 

“I would never drop you, my heart,” he said, lips still brushing distractingly against the tender skin. 

He continued to cradle them as he laid himself down, letting his back hit the grassy ground in a soft thud as he helped Briar recalibrate themselves. 

Halsin was so tall that it took some adjusting. For a moment, Briar wasn’t sure they would be able to taste the swollen length of Halsin’s erection–even with its more than generous size. But once again, Halsin’s many years of experience came into play. He adjusted the height and placement of Briar’s hips in such a way that, when they pressed together, belly-to-belly, Briar had perfect access to Halsin’s magnificent cock. 

They salivated as they grasped his girth in their hand. His cock twitched faintly and Halsin let out a startled sound against Briar. Briar felt the faint mischievous curl of their own lips, pleased to hear him react to them.

There was a brief moment where they relished the thought of rendering Halsin into a whimpering mess–a moment where the idea of conquering a man like Halsin in mind, body and spirit felt like the tantalizing promise of a good hunt; a good chase. 

But all thoughts, all ideas of scrappy dominance, eddied out of their mind when Halsin swirled his tongue against the sensitive opening of their backside. Briar’s hand tightened around Halsin as their whole body when feverish and alert, their thighs tense where they bracketed Halsin against the ground. 

It took them a moment to find the will to think and move again. Halsin was devouring them like it was the first meal he’d had in days. But finally, Briar’s own hunger took over the buoyant sensation in their body. They hummed as they took Halsin into their mouth, tasting the sweet nectar that had already started to collect at the tip. 

Briar’s long lashes fluttered as they started to slowly take more and more of Halsin within their mouth. At the same time, Halsin started to gently stroke between Briar’s legs, adding a new wave of pleasure to the already pleasant heat; the feeling of being filled by the one they loved. 

Briar intensified the suction around Halsin, eagerly fitting as much of him in their mouth as they could. 

It was when the tip of Halsin’s cock brushed against the tender opening at the back of their throat that things changed. 

A hungry growl came from Halsin’s mouth. He sounded more beast than man in that moment–then he put his free hand on the back of Briar’s head and thrusted the whole of his length into the poor fox’s mouth, curving into the opening of their throat as they choked around it. 

As Halsin retreated, tears gathered at the corners of Briar’s eyes as they gasped in through their nose. They were not tears of distress, though; no, a pleasant lightness took over them as Halsin’s hand roughly curled into their hair, holding them still as he did another unrelenting thrust into their throat. 

Gods, this was heaven–to have Halsin lose control–to feel the wild nature of him in such a visceral, connected way. It was pure bliss. 

Briar forgot about their own stimulation, settling their body fully down on Halsin’s as he tangled his other hand in their hair. 

The pace quickened; Halsin making love to Briar’s mouth the same way he made love to the rest of them every time they indulged in each other’s body: with tender devotion and enraptured abandon. 

“Your mouth–My heart–gods it feels as if it were made for me,” Halsin grunted with some effort. “And seeing you get your pleasure from giving me mine–to feel you hot and wet against my skin…it’s maddening…”

Briar heaved out a dreamy sigh as Halsin inserted himself into their mouth again, all the way to the hilt. And despite the fact that Halsin had stopped his direct stimulation of Briar’s body, they felt the impending crash of their climax heading for them like a storm about to make landfall. 

That spring coiled tighter and tighter every time Briar felt the intoxicating sensation of Halsin’s cock in their throat. 

Halsin’s breaths started to come out as shudders. 

“My heart…” he said in a tremulous voice. “Gods, Briar–you’re a wonder–I’m–”

Halsin snarled and turned his head, biting onto Briar’s inner thigh as he did two thrusts in quick succession. The pain mixed with the pleasure of Halsin’s generous words and the way he so adoringly made love to their mouth was enough to send Briar over the edge. 

They whimpered as they came even as they remained untouched by Halsin, their pleasure dripping out of them as Halsin did one final press up and into their mouth, spilling his own seed into the back of their throat as he gasped and panted. 

He thrust twice more, wringing the last bits of pleasure out of himself before retreating fully out of Briar’s mouth. 

As soon as he did, he gathered the smaller elf into his arms, cradling them close and nuzzling into the hollow of their neck; kissing the soft part of their throat like it was an ache he could heal that way. Those same hands that had just been tangled in Briar’s hair, now smoothed that hair away from their face before cupping their cheek in his hand. 

“Forgive me, dear one–I fear I neglected you in my own distraction,” he cooed, his voice thick and sweet as honey. “Are you alright?”

“I’m perfect,” Briar sighed, smiling dreamily. 

Halsin chuckled and nuzzled his nose against theirs. “You’re right,” he said sweetly. “You are. In every way.”

Briar felt the warmth of love fill their heart to the brim, as they always did after a roll in the grass with Halsin. He was such a giving lover and it was so easy to get as lost in his body as he got lost in Briar’s own. It was impossible not to feel the glow of love. 

“We should get a bath,” Halsin said. “And perhaps some breakfast.”

“I’m already quite full, thank you,” Briar said sleepily. “And I like being a mess because of you.”

Halsin gave Briar a cheeky smile and gently pinched their nose between his thumb and forefinger. “I feel the same, my heart,” he said. “But as we near the coast, it’s getting more and more likely that we will encounter others on the path, and I don’t want to share this vision of you with anyone else…unless you have a desire to, of course.”

Briar sighed and nodded. “I suppose I dont,” they said. “I think there was a lake not far from here. A bit north of the old castle–the one with those stuffy librarians.”

“The Scribe’s Perch, it’s called,” Halsin said helpfully. “And I believe you’re right–a hot spring is over there.”

“Ah–it’s been too long since I’ve soaked in a hot spring,” Briar said. “Let’s go right now.”

Halsin chuckled and nodded. “Alright.”

The two druids got themselves up and did themselves the courtesy of at least wiping down with a bit of water from their waterskins before dressing in their leathers. Briar helped Halsin fasten the leather straps around his biceps and Halsin saw to re-lacing Briar’s hastily removed boots. 

They packed up their tent and their supplies and started making their way south, the promise of a warm soak enough to keep Briar’s mood fairly light and buoyant. 

At least, that was until they got a few minutes into their travels and heard the cry of a worried, panicked man somewhere ahead on the rocky paths of the forests. 

“Elinna?!” The voice called, sounding very clearly distressed. “Elinna! Where are you?”

Briar looked up at Halsin and found a familiar expression there. It was one of worry on behalf of another. Briar knew Halsin well enough at this point that he was never one to look the other way when someone was in distress–unless it was a goblin, of course.

Halsin looked down at them and Briar gave him an encouraging nod. “Let’s go help,” Briar said. “It sounds like someone may be lost.”

[epicbuddieficrecs]

Weekly Recap | November 27th-December 3rd 2023

Usually I schedule these to post around 4-5 PM EST, buuuuuut I just finished this and I don't want to wait. Here's a little midnight treat! Enjoy!

Complete

🔥 like when the sun came out by spaceprincessem/ @spaceprincessem (Canon Divergent, Ghosts | 39K | Mature): Evan gave up trying to explain what happens to him after his parents forced him to have a talk with one of their friends, supposedly a pediatric therapist, and cruelly hinted that if Evan didn’t stop seeing and talking about his “invisible friends” as if they were real then his parents would send him far away to places where they lock children up in padded rooms. “Look,” Evan says quickly, forcing out the words before he gets too scared to speak,” I—I know this is going to sound crazy, but, um, ever since I was a kid I can see ghosts.”

🔥 baby, you were my picket fence by spaceprincessem/ @spaceprincessem (Post-S6, Proposal | 6K | Teen): or Maddie wants to propose to Chimney. She gets Buck involved. Buck can't tell anyone. He somehow proposes to Eddie instead

🔥 Both Blade and Branch by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Post-S6 | 62K | Mature): The chances of being struck by lightning twice are incredibly minute, but Buck still manages to pull it off. During a double date with Marisol and Natalia, nonetheless. Eddie manages to resuscitate him, but as Buck recovers from yet another trauma, Eddie can’t help but notice there’s something very different about him. He’s not quite sure what version of Buck he got back.

love like woven thread by renecdote/ @renecdote (Post-Eddie Begins | 1,8K | General): Aka the one where Eddie is a clothes thief and Buck kind of loves that about him. (Part 1 of Clothes thief Eddie my beloved<3)

wear your heart on my sleeve (I'll protect it) by renecdote/ @renecdote (Post-Shooting | 1,7K | General): The return of clothes thief Eddie, from Buck's POV this time. (Part 2 of Clothes thief Eddie my beloved<3)

hold you in my arms (wrap your soul around me) by renecdote/ @@renecdote (Established Buddie | 4K | Teen): The one where Buck buys Eddie a hoodie and Eddie has a lot of feelings about how family shaped they are. (Part 3 of Clothes thief Eddie my beloved<3)

a most constant heart by renecdote/ @renecdote (Proposal | 1,5K | Teen): when Buck put the ring in his pocket, he forgot to account for the fact that his boyfriend is a clothes thief. (Part 4 of Clothes thief Eddie my beloved<3)

the quiet of your love (after the day’s loud strife) by renecdote/ @renecdote (Married Buddie, Hurt Buck | 3K | Teen): Buck is hurt, Eddie looks after him. (Part 6 of Clothes thief Eddie my beloved<3)

holding pattern by renecdote/ @renecdote (Married Buddie | 2K | Teen): Buck volunteers to fight wildfires. Eddie stays home and worries. (Part 7 of Clothes thief Eddie my beloved<3)

a hundred little pieces by renecdote/ @renecdote (Post-Tsunami | 3K | General): The tap is bloody, the sink stained red, paper towels wadded up and abandoned in it, soaked with blood, and Eddie can taste his heart in his throat, sour and metallic, because he’s doing the math and—shit. Kitchen + blood + blood thinners = only bad things. (Multiplied by Buck, which equals Eddie’s blood pressure jumping through the roof.) (Part 1 of in your hands (my heart))

into the gravity by renecdote/ @renecdote (Getting Together | 6K | General): In which Buck takes care of Eddie. (Part 2 of in your hands (my heart))

wedding bells by renecdote/ @renecdote (Friends to Fiances | 2K | General): The background noise of the movie and the warm weight of his best friend against his side is lulling Eddie towards a nap when Buck breaks the silence. “Do you want to get married?” “Sure,” Eddie answers sleepily. “Fall wedding?” “What?” Buck frowns, and Eddie realises: oh, he meant do I want to get married generally not to him specifically. Then Buck is asking, “Why fall?”

don't leave me like this [i belong to you] by spaceprincessem/ @spaceprincessem (Getting Together, Post-S5 | 3K | Teen): “Okay, on the count of three we both spill whatever it is we need to say.” And, two things happen at once: Buck manages a I slept with Eddie last night while Chimney blurts out Maddie and I slept together. Followed by; Buck, spluttering Aren’t you and Maddie not together?? and Chim practically howling YOU SLEPT WITH EDDIE?

my fire's waitin' for your spark by spaceprincessem/ @spaceprincessem (Post-S4, Getting together | 4K | Teen): Buck is pretty sure the universe is out to get him. And it isn't even the possible concussion he’s now enduring or the fear of having to take an extra few days off of work (or the threat of vomiting on the pavement in front of the squad). No. It’s Eddie fucking Diaz still in his turn out gear shoving Chim and Hen out of the way so he can inspect Buck personally.

🔥 i gave your name as my emergency phone call by spaceprincessem/ @spaceprincessem (Post-S6 | 9K | Teen): “What about his sister?” She asks, eyes back on Eddie. “Or his almost brother-in-law. He can’t call Bobby,” she takes a step forward, arms still tight across her chest, “or Athena or all the other people in your tight little 118 circle.” Eddie stiffens as something hot and wicked licks up his spine. “Buck called—” Me. He cuts himself off before he can finish the sentence. His voice sounds harsh and possessive and protective and not at all how it should when he’s talking to his girlfriend of all people. - or buck and natalia break up. he drunk calls eddie when he's out alone

i love you best when you're just yourself by oklahoma/ @forthewolves (Established Buddie, Christmas | 2K | Teen): Buck’s having trouble picking out the perfect tree for his first Christmas with Eddie and Christopher as Eddie’s boyfriend. Eddie puts those worries to rest quickly.

can't pretend it's platonic (it's just ended) by lecornergirl/ @clusterbuck (Exes to Lovers | 2K | Teen): “Isn’t easy a good thing?” Frank had asked the last time, one day before Eddie broke up with Buck, when he was trying desperately to sort out the mess in his mind. “A lot of people describe good relationships like that. Like it feels easy.” “But it feels too easy,” Eddie tried to argue. “Like—calm before the storm kind of shit, you know what I mean?” “What do you think the storm will be?” Frank asked. Me, Eddie thought, but couldn’t make himself say. I’m the storm. I’m going to fuck it up somehow.

If This Is What The Season Is Bringing by callmenewbie/ @callmenewbie (Post-S6, Christmas | 2K | General): Buck and Eddie made a promise after Eddie decided to leave the 118 and they finally make good on it this Christmas.

wanna get married by elless (Friends to Fiances | 1,4K | General): Eddie has a fever, which means his defenses are down, and some truths slip out.

coax the cold right out of me by oklahoma / @forthewolves (Established Buddie, Hurt Buck | 2K | Teen): “You know,” Eddie begins, running his fingers through Buck’s damp, frizzy curls, “when I booked this cabin for the weekend, I had plans for us to fuck real nasty by the fire.” Buck laughs—an ugly, congested noise that sounds like it hurts when it gets caught in his chest—and tips his head back to meet Eddie’s gaze in the low light of the blazing fire. His big blue eyes are puffy and his cheeks are red, hot by the fire and chapped by the wind; he looks like a kid, almost, sitting on the floor and wrapped tight in a large, black fleece blanket with nothing beneath except a pair of boxers and fuzzy socks. “Well,” Buck croaks, “we’re still by the fire, at least.”

Re-read

🔥 Sunlight is Fire (Burning is a Matter of Degrees) by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels/ @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (Incubbi Buck, FWB | 10K | Explicit): In the wake of Buck's leg injury, Eddie learns that his friend needs some unusual methods to help him recover. Eddie's willing to do whatever it takes to help Buck, and it's not like this could make his quiet pining any worse, right?

🔥 Goodwill is Sent in Snapshots (You Only Get the Full Picture on Return) by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels/ @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (The Holiday AU | 14K | Mature): When both Evan Buckley and Chimney Han are dumped at the start of December, they decide to swap houses - with each other. A nice two weeks in a different location will be a great unconventional Christmas. Certainly not anything life changing. Then Buck meets Chim's next-door-neighbor, and Chim meets Buck's apartment-crashing sister.

we're not in love (but the sex is good) by elless (Canon Divergent, Nurse Eddie, FWB | 15K | Explicit): Eddie is new to LA. Feeling lonely, he goes to a bar for a drink and meets a beautiful stranger that kisses like a dream. What starts as a one night stand quickly moves to frequent no strings sex. When circumstances lead to them spending time together out of bed, Eddie realizes he’s attached to Buck in a way he never planned for.

[diazsdimples]

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

It’s snowing!!

A snowstorm in my inbox!! 21 frosty sentences just for you (we're pretending that last section in the speech marks is one sentence okay)!

Frostpunk AU ❄️

Hope surges through Buck at the news – it’s the closest thing either of the Diazes have made in terms of visible progress and he clings onto it like a lifeline, Bobby’s words from a few days prior echoing in his head. “Do you think he’d be able to hear me, you know, if I talked to him?” Buck asks Hen later that morning. She’s doing her routine cares on Edmundo, checking his IV sites to make sure they haven’t tissued and taking his vital signs, and Buck hovers around her, his fingers itching to thread through Edmundo’s steadily lengthening hair. “Who, Christopher?” Hen asks as she turns Edmundo’s hand over in hers, checking the length of his nails and the colour of the IV site. “I mean, both of them really, but yeah, Christopher,” Buck replies, shifting restlessly from one foot to another. “I was thinking of reading to him, so he knows he’s not alone.” Hen give Buck an almost sad smile, ones that he’s become more and more familiar with as the days have passed. He’s seen it on Hen’s face as she works and watches him keep constant vigil at the Diazes bedsides, and Bobby and Athena’s whenever they come and check on him. Maddie doesn’t try hide her sadness behind a smile, he sees it whenever he walks into a room these days. Be careful with yourself, Evan. Don’t get too attached. Yeah, well, Buck’s never been very good at listening to instructions, even if it’s for his own good. “I’m sure he’d really appreciate it if you read to him, Buck, that’s a good idea,” Hen replies, and Buck’s already pushing through the tent flaps and pelting down the icy streets before he knows what he’s doing. It’s -30 degrees Celsius today, fairly mild for this time of year. The sun hasn’t quite crested over the big ridge that shelters the city, leaving the streets and buildings sparkling with icy dew from the frozen night. The slats of streets are still slippery with black ice, and more than once Buck has to grab onto a streetlamp to stop him from slithering sideways as he takes a turn too quickly. He reaches his tent in record time, sporting a new scrape on his knee from a misjudged corner, and shrugs off his coat, barely sparing a moment to brush the snow off his pants before continuing on his mission.

[insert this snippet about the Princess Bride here]

With the book clutched tight to his chest, Buck makes his way back to the med tent, this time with much more care. There’s a new chair waiting for him between Edmundo and Christopher’s beds, this one lined with furs and complete with a small section that pulls out, should he want to prop his feet up. There’s no indication of who made the switch, but Buck sees what looks suspiciously like the back of Bobby’s head over in the supply section of the tent, and Buck’s throat constructs a little. He settles himself down on the chair, kicking his boots off, and leans over Christopher’s side, speaking quietly to the kid. “Hey bud, it’s Buck. I- I don’t know if you can hear me but I’ve bought a book with me today, and thought I’d read it to you. My sister used to read it to me when I was little, and it always made me feel safe so I figured I’d do the same for you.”

Tagging friends who have shown interest in this work

@neverevan @cal-daisies-and-briars @exhuastedpigeon @thekristen999 @spotsandsocks @hippolotamus @jesuiscenseedormir @theotherbuckley

Make me write things!!

[nova1218]

I can't send this as an anon in your black clover next generation blog so I'm sending it here if you don't mind, can you give us a list of all the next gen ocs and their parents? I love your designs btw!!!

Hello! Don’t worry I don’t mind! It’s quite a long list so bear with me.

Black Clover Next Generation(Nodanova’s AU)List of Parents/Kids

Going in order of captains, black bulls, and others + other kingdoms

Clover Kingdom

• Yami Sukehiro/Nacht Faust

Yami Kaya (Light Magic, 23 yrs)

Yami Kaeda (Dark Magic, 23 yrs)

• Charlotte Roselei/Vanessa Enoteca

Dimitri Enoteca-Roselei (Briar Magic, 20 yrs)

Chloé Enoteca-Roselei (Thread Magic, 15 yrs)

• Jack The Ripper/Nozel Silva

Adrius Silva (Steel Magic, 25 yrs)

Acier Silva II (Slash Magic, 20 yrs)

Argent Silva (Lead Magic, 19 yrs)

Adeline Silva (Mercury Magic, 15 yrs)

• Fuegoleon Vermillion/Bridget Oriel || The Salamander (@t-f-t’s interpretation of the fire spirit)

Felicity Vermillion (Catalyst Magic, 23 yrs)

Calix Vermillion (Wind Magic, 20 yrs)

Titaia (???, ???)(not my oc, but she’s canon to my au)

• Mereoleona Vermillion/Dorothy Unsworth

Reina Unsworth-Vermillion (Magma Magic, 24 yrs)

Alistair Unsworth-Vermillion (Nightmare Magic, 20 yrs)

• Rill Boismortier/Charmy Pappitson

Louis Boismortier (Paint & Cotton Magic, 19 yrs

Riley Boismortier (Food & Cotton Magic, 4 yrs)

• William Vangeance/Patri

Willow Vangeance (World Tree Magic, 17 yrs)

Second Unnamed Child (Light Magic, 10 yrs)

• Asta/Yuno Grinberryall

Licita Grinberryall (Sun Magic, 19 yrs)

Elias Grinberryall (Wind Magic, 17 yrs)

Lune Grinberryall (Moon Magic, 15 yrs)

• Noelle Silva/Kiato

Kaiyo Silva (Water Magic, 19 yrs)

Delphine Silva (Water Magic, 15 yrs)

Third Unnamed Child (Performance Magic, 13 yrs)

• Gauche Adlai/Grey

Ella Adlai (Mirror Magic, 18 yrs)

Malachi Adlai (Transmutation Magic, 17 yrs)

Luca Adlai (Transmutation Magic, 6 yrs)

• Magna Swing/Luck Voltia

Seihi R. Swing (Lightning Magic, 19 yrs)

Faith Swing (Fire Magic, 16 yrs)

• Zora Ideale/Kirsch Vermillion

Erik Ideale (Ash Magic, 20 yrs)

Zoe Ideale (Cherry Blossom Magic, 17 yrs)

• Zora ldeale/Nebra Silva

Liana Silva (Steel Magic, 15 yrs)

• Finral Roulacase/Finesse Calmreich

Fiore Roulacase (Spatial Magic, 18 yrs)

Laurence Roulacase (adopted, 10 yrs)

• Gordon Agrippa/Henry Legolant

Harriet Agrippa (Poison Magic, 21 yrs)

Leslie Agrippa (Poison Magic, 21 yrs)

Ethan Agrippa (Poison Magic, 15 yrs)

• Liebe/Ladae Silva(oc)

Loelia Silva (Steel Magic, 18 yrs)

Lizbeth Silva (no magic attribute, but can use mana, 15 yrs)

• Leopold Vermillion/Neige

Theodore Vermillion (Fire Magic, 16 yrs)

Nieve Vermillion (Snow Magic, 14 yrs)

• Mimosa Vermillion/Langris Vaude

Sherry Vermillion (Plant Magic, 19 yrs)

Gin Vermillion (Spatial Magic, 15 yrs)

• Solid Silva/(oc)

Flavius Silva (Water Magic, 18 yrs)

• Sol Marron /Fragil Tormenta

Fiera Tormenta (Snow Magic, 19 yrs)

Vicente Tormenta (Earth Magic, 16 yrs)

• Kahono/Mura(oc)

Merodi (Song Magic, 15 yrs)

• Sally/Millie Maxwell

Molly Maxwell (Gel Magic, 20 yrs)

Diana Maxwell (Alchemy Magic, 19 yrs)

Sullivan Maxwell (Alchemy Magic, 17 yrs)

Diamond Kingdom

• Mars/Fana

Jupiter Ezra Diamond (Crystal Magic, 21 yrs)

Phoenix Ezra Diamond (Fire Magic, 16 yrs)

• Fanzell Kruger/Dominante Code

Alexis Kruger (Wind Magic, 24 yrs)

Ari Kruger (Wind Magic, 24 yrs)

Alec Kruger (Wind Magic, 24 yrs)

Heart Kingdom

• Lolopechka/Gadjah

Princess Menodora (Lightning/Blood Magic(artificial), 21 yrs)

• The Spirit Guardians Children:

Floga: Pyrrhus (Fire Magic, 20 yrs)

Sarado: Acker (Earth Magic, 22 yrs)

Smurik: Saru (Wind Magic, 24 yrs)

Potrof: Meadow (Plant Magic, 23 yrs)

• Bow Nocde/Dazu Tayak

Dhara Nocde (Catalyst Magic, 21 yrs)

The Zogratis Legacy

These children were created by the magic of Morris Libardirt, Lucius Zogratis, and The Dark Triad

• Lucius Zogratis/Morris Libardirt

Micah Zogratis (Modification/Knowledge Magic(artificial), 25 yrs)

• Dante Zogratis/Vanessa Enoteca

Seraphina Zogratis (Body Magic, 25 yrs)

• Vanica Zogratis/Acier Silva

Vivienne Zogratis (Plasma Magic, 25 yrs)

• Zenon Zogratis/Allen Fiarain

Aiden Zogratis (Fire Magic, 25 yrs)

Hino Country

• Yami Ichika/Imari Komari/Kezoukaku Ginnojomoriren

Yami Himawari

Yami Chisana

Yami Ginnojomoriren

And these are my most relevant and/or favorite next generation kids! If you’re still reading, thank you! If there are any more questions, feel free to ask!

[picturesofthegoneworlds]

Restless

Imogen can't concentrate.

(standard procedure for up to a couple weeks ago, now it wears a different guise.)

She fidgets, sits with her legs crossed on her bedroll, backpack in her lap, removes, itemises, arranges its contents, huffs stray hairs out of her face, hands still twitchy, mind still scrambled, organises it all again. Repeats. 

It's early, the fact given away by the low-lying sun and crisp smell on the air that has not yet been burned away by its sustained and blistering presence. 

The blisters on her ankles, the friction of leather that is still not fully broken in. Imogen delays in pulling on and lacing up her boots, calves restless but exhausted, thrumming if they remain still too long (too long being only a moment).

She falls back heavily onto the bedroll. 

Overhead, in the weave of vines and branches, birds sing. They're mocking her, surely, the awkward and bound to the ground sack of flesh and fat and bones that she is, hair frizzed and sticky from the humidity, her inner thigh chaffed and perspiring where the contact of her dagger's harness coils around it like a constricting snake.

She loosens it a few notches

The pathetic and inconsistent touch of it frustrates her more, so she buckles it tight like a tourniquet. 

She exhales, deflates, heavy as she is, runs the back of her forearm over her brow, spreading the salt and sweat, breathes in, feels the connective tissue holding together all of her joints, exhales, arm to ground, along with every other limb, the back of her knees, her spine, her shoulders (there's a rock digging into one through the mat, did she sleep on that last night?), her neck, her ass, wishes they were all gelatin, that she could become one with the floor and not collide with every edge and corner and texture of it, stop being so reactive. 

She inhales, skin pulling away, wishing it would continue, peel, lift, blanket, canopy (closer than the trees), shade, but it would drip with blood, hot and sizzling as it rained back onto her exposed bones. 

Shadow, the dark tatters, the veil. Molasses of ichor. Dull, hazy, sharp, thorns. Don't touch, don't approach. Space. Wail, scream, chorus, silence. That would chase the birds away, feathers dislodged from sudden movement re-lodged into black tar, carried off, away, down sluggish stream, no contact. Barbed like a briar.

The thread of the bed roll is itchy, the weave of it too thick and open, rough spun from fibrous burlap, it splinters bare skin where it makes contact, nape of her neck, backs of her forearms, thighs, knees, and calves. 

Delicate, cool, billowing lace that accommodated to the pads of Imogen's fingers, to her palm, fractured by magic, calloused and freshly wounded, it dulled even the rows of needle teeth beneath. Imogen imagines it her bedsheets, the ground would not matter - could be rivers of lava jutted by shattered glass, it would not matter, sure, cool billowing lace, Imogen would sleep well. 

Easier to tell now, how restless her hands are. They pluck at the gauzy linen that makes her dress, the more rigid weave of her waistcoat, following stitching as if it were pathways, movement, roads to get her somewhere, them, skin to skin contact barriered like the rock digging into her shoulder. Her touch meanders to her chest, unintentional, she swears, in promise and obscenity, a winding path with sides towered by hedges and trees that block the horizon, a shock carried from the point of touch to manifest as an ache between her legs and a weightless haze in her head, body rolling, shoulders leaving the mat, leaving the rock that digs, a breath to a sigh to a gravelly moan, sends a bird or two scattering away, a leaf or two falling behind them. 

Fuckin' birds. Relax. More touch. Touch is good? Barbed. Thorns. Restraint. Maybe she should grow her nails, maybe then the touch won't feel her own. Laudna - fuck, the name gets a reaction from her again, the jolt in her core as she feels the heat pool at the surface of her face, her neck, her chest, crimson damming, damning, acid rising to her throat carried by the guilt of it. 

She kicks and squirms, side of a fist like hammer to nail on the bedroll beside her, other covering her face from the shame of it, it being the burn, the rolling simmer, the violent boil of want and guilt and acid and sting and she is so restless, boiling over, she can't concentrate, the contact of the ground and the fabrics and the atmosphere all feels wrong, scalding, now she knows what to compare it to, how it could feel, what she could be touching. 

Could be death calling, alluring, maybe, how long she flirted with it. Cold with head empty, sounded nice, still does, though the delivery and means maybe different now. A face to an end, ends her, finishes, acid in her throat again, hand bunching the rough fabric under her hips. 

It moves of its own accord to her thigh, takes a fistful of cuff and flesh and she sobs, eyes scrunching shut so tightly that she starts to see colours in the dark, blotches of crimson in a grey dream, her body in the butcher's cart. 

Dreamlike, hazy, drunk (this must be how it feels), she moves without thought, groping herself through the crotch of her shorts, writhing, the floor is too hot against her back, sweat gathering at her hairline and salt beading down into her eyes, again, breath short, short, when did it get so shallow, dizzy. How long could she hold it (hold herself), heat, radiating into the cup of her hand, squirming, a worm under boot, squashed before it gets to dine on the corpse. She pushes firmer against herself, shudders, the feel of the floor leaving, rolls her hips onto the press of her fingers, barriered, dulled, not enough, as they fumble, clutch at the shorts and wrangle the inseam of them in frantic pulls against uncomfortably undulating heat, heat, damp forced through from the close contact onto the pads of her fingers and Gods she's gonna have to prestidigitate that, what the hells is she doing, Laudna could return from her morning forage or whatever it is any moment and

fuck the thought doesn't quell the need at all, her hips spasming and knees shaking as she holds them suspended and trembling, working herself up, frantic, frantic and desperate. How did she get here? she followed the woman at the market, the woman followed the yellow bird, the birdsong silenced for pathetic needy moans, her hips raised so high her shoulders are pushed further into the cut of the offensive rock, princesses and mattresses and beans or whatever that fairytale was Laudna had mentioned about ladies and their proper behaviour. 

Proper, right, she should stop, get it over with, fumbles with the fastening of her shorts, hand making its way beneath fabric before it's fully undone, now registering coarse curls, then slicked, heat, heat, heat, hot, wet, eager, soaked, soft, the glide of her intensity, betrayal, soaking. fuck. Touch is not enough, hers, fuck. Not right, the feel of callouses and scars and heat and a barely registrable thrum shit what happens if she gets away from herself, gets too excited. magic fried uncontrollable she is out of control fuck the heat of the bedroll on her back and the push of the rock imbedding imbedded scars wrapping tangled suffocating sinew silvered skin nightmares burden and guilt guilt guilt storming-

Imogen rolls over onto her front, the rock through the bedroll pushing into her chest, against her sternum, aiding to evacuate the bile that has been suspended in her oesophagus but the guilt won't leave her thighs slicked and hot and tacky and uncomfortable and the chaffe of the itchy fabric of the mat burning them, restless, as she removes her fingers from between her legs, wipes the evidence of a pathetic and failed and just and just wrong attempt onto her shorts, prestidigitates it all clean as if she can wash herself of her impurities and intentions, dares to think of the occasions the purple glow has evaporated the rain from Laudna's clothes and skin, now a selfish act, was then too, maybe, always selfish. 

[violetlunette]

Why do we bother to stay? Why are you running away? Don’t you feel like severing?

Inktober Challenge: Day 1; “Listen to me!”  |  Use a song to inspire your art for today!

Trigger warning(s): *hints at suicidal thoughts *blood

Spoiler Warning(s); Twst Chapter Seven

Silver had no idea where he was or how he got there. But he knew he had to leave, or he would never leave. However, he hadn’t even taken a single step before the trap was sprung. Silver gasped as the inky black threads wrapped around him, then winced as they cut into his pale flesh, drawing blood. He watched as the red leaked out of his skin and the black ink seeped in, turning his skin gray. ‘No, no!’ Silver attempted to pull away, but it was like he was trapped in a web and his struggles were just attracting the attention of a spider.

Behind him was a Phantom, but it was like none he had ever seen. It had a head of an ink bottle with cracks around the middle, allowing ink to dribble out. It wore a gown that was ever-changing from blue to pink that fluttered like a flag in the wind with a crown of gold and a necklace. Silver swallowed. “Who…What… Why are you here?” Petals drifted from the rose on its head as it stared at the teen. “I’m here to take you away from it all.” It reached out, but Silver jumped back. “NO!” He yanked the sword from his side and threw it into the Phantom’s chest. Ink leaked from the wound like pools of blood as the blade pierced it. However, the creature didn’t seem to be in any sort of pain. It tilted its head, golden crown glinting in the nonexistent light. “Why do we bother to stay?” The Phantom’s voice echoed about in a quiet whisper, gentle and sad. Long, golden curls danced around the Phantom like rays of sun that tempted the frightened Silver in, like a moth to a flame. “They’ll never be able to forget.” Silver swallowed, yanking his gaze away. “That’s not true--” he muttered, staring determinedly at the ground. “Father—he loves me.” The Phantom read his heart instantly. “Yes. He does. But do you deserve it?” The Phantom inquired. A hand entangled with threads lifted itself, ink dripping like drops of rain. “Listen to me; Can’t you imagine the conflict in his heart when he looks at you? You, who has the blood of the ones who destroyed his home and the lives of his people. The one who has the face of the one who killed those he held most dear.” Silver stumbled back as if the Phantom had removed the blade from her chest and stabbed him. “Every time your father looks at you, he must be reminded of his sorrow. And yet—he held you. Nursed you. Protected you. Loved you. Even though he must have suffered doing so.” Silver’s throat went dry. How many times has he thought these thoughts in his head? He thought of his father’s smile. How much of his pain was he hiding behind that smile when he looked at him? And Malleus-- “No! Just get away from me!” Silver turned and ran, the treads trailing behind him. His haggard breath echoed in his ears, only matched by his heartbeat as it pounded against his chest, like a prisoner banging on the bars of its prison. He had to get out of here. He had to get away before-- “Why are you running?” The voice was at his ear. He shuddered, nearly falling forward before the threads yanked him back. “Are you trying to avoid judgment?” Silver clenched his eyes shut. “N-no! I…” He shook himself as the hands pawed over him like he was a kitten, his body becoming as cold as ice. “Your blood killed them. Your blood destroyed Briar Valley and the lives of those in it. Because of your blood, Malleus grew up without a family. Will you not accept responsibility and disappear?” “I…I didn’t…” “You were born in the palace that was stolen from Malleus. You have your life at the cost of his mother. And Lilia’s beloved.” Silver stopped his struggles. He recalled the memory of Malenora, the love she had for her unborn son, a love Malleus never got to feel. Because of the Knight of the Dawn. His father, his blood. Tears fell down his face as he trembled, his veins turning black as the shadows that surrounded him. “I…” Strings wrapped around his weeping eyes, blinding him.

“It hurts, does it not?” As the gentle words rang around him, he felt the thread around his neck tighten. It didn’t hurt, but he knew this wasn’t a good thing. Yet he couldn’t stop it. “Don’t you want to stop hurting them? Break the chains they placed on themselves for you? Cut the bonds that hurt them?” The thread cut into his neck. “Don’t you feel like severing?” Blood fell.

--

Phew! I had to do a quick job here! (Sorry it’s sloppy!) Anyway, I put my Halloween playlist on shuffle and got the song “Evelyn, Evelyn,” which kinda fits for how I imagine Silver and his Phantom getting along, but I focused on three lines in particular;

“Why do we bother to stay?” Why stay if he’s hurting the ones he loves?

“Why are you running away?” Why is Silver running from the Phantom who just wants to end his pain?

“Don’t you feel like severing?” Cutting his bonds to his family and life so he’ll stop hurting people.

I may expand on this in the future in a fic because I see potential for angst. (I also want to create a better image.)

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this quick ficlet and wish me luck because I’m going to try to do two inktobers this year! Why? Because I tend to bite off more than I can chew to "challenge myself."

("clean" image, btw.)

[horrorbxby]

closed  starter  ;  ft. briar sun + georgie holman.

location  ;  dirtbusters.

@br0kehearted

“ i don’t suppose you’d know how to get the wax off of this dress ? ” she asked a little hesitantly, placing the red dress on the counter. “ mistakes were made in the heat of the moment, but to be fair - my date was a little inexperienced. ” it was almost enough to put her off the wax entirely. “ you look like you’re the type of woman who knows what she’s doing. ” 

[thehighlordofspring]

silver lights that intertwine (safe hands) | (Thread Closed.)

Tamlin spent the next seven days in The Human Lands, as himself, working to continue establish trust and trade between their two species. Things were still tense. He barely had a moment to think about the past week, Briar, Caiden, or his own anxieties during the day. Only at night when he returned to the inn did his worries begin to seep through his guard and torture his tired mind.

Did they get back safe? He wondered. Of course. I sent two of the best sentries to accompany them.

Cool logic was his coping skill to help silence the constant rush of responsibility for everyone who lived in his lands. Despite all his power, he was still only one man, with two hands. He had limits on how much he could bear.

Tamlin rolled over on the bed. It felt too big, even for his tall frame. He pressed his thumbs against his eyes and memories of being tangled around Briar on the floor nearby briefly flashed into his mind. His face flushed and he flipped the cool pillow over his face, burying a groan of frustration deep into the feathers.

“Am I a fool?” He whispered, into the dark, uncovering his face.

It said nothing back.

His journey back was simple. On his own, he could ride quickly and imbue his steed with some of his own power. By nightfall, he’d reached the edge of Spring and a winnow home brought him back to his bed.

There, the High Lord collapsed into a deep sleep, and did not rise until afternoon the next day.

Word quickly came that Lucien and his mate had birthed a healthy, happy female faeling during his absence. Tamlin’s first task was to visit them and meet their daughter. The same evening, he left their home; his heart burning with the glow of happiness and the ache of disappointment. They’d always predicted that it would be Tamlin to marry first and sire an heir.

That was proving far from true.

Tamlin placed his hands into his pockets with a sigh and walked down the dirt path, into the dusk, with heavy heart, and hanging head. He wasn’t truly sad, as much as he was deep in thought. He summoned a small orb of light to follow him home and began walking the part of the manor’s garden which was open to the public. Eventually, he took off his shoes and chose a quiet spot by a nearby pond to continue his contemplations. A few ducks bobbed for food in the distance as he watched the sun set.

What is wrong with me? He wondered. I feel so…raw. I can’t hide — even from me. It’s not working.

He was tempted to drink, but for the first time in a while, dumbing the discomfort seemed unappealing. Instead, he listened to the nature around him and lay back in the grass, letting her song soothe some of the ache in his chest.

It couldn’t disguise the sound of bare feet on the grass. Tamlin’s ears twitched and he slowly opened his eyes in the semi darkness. Standing above him was the tiny thorn digging past his every shield.

“Lady Briar.” He nodded, brows furrowed, heart conflicted. “I am pleased to see you made it home.”

[decaf-mother]

I wanna write more for women so here's a poll on which one I should work on first.

[caucasus-wildflower]

six is for lucifer

(how i gained and lost identities throughout the years)

i — sweet cicely, the garden myrrh

Sweet cicely, the garden myrrh,

A righteous birth, cloaked in the

Allusions of God and purity.

Into the ears of the child snow murmurs

A winter cry, a cold blessing

Tapestry descending onto the earth.

Its momma cradles it, a gentle stir

Suckling, its head a pupil, its eyes

Blind to the black oppression lurking.

A murder of crows sugar the panes

With soot, the mother shuts her blinds.

Lamb of God, it feeds on the watery

Grass on the hills, the moors,

The dank marshes. The soil provides,

It takes with glee. The stench of rot

Roots ribcages skeletons skulls

Flesh flower claw carcass —

Moors, marshes, mountain ranges —

It offends the air. But an unweaned

Lamb takes nonetheless. The ewe cast

Its lamb to the far ends, to the tall sweeping

Highlands. Away, away, the crows

Circling, caw against caw —

Ariel, God's Lioness, it prowls the

Caucasus in search of the Lamb.

Banished lambs must perish.

None can live under Ariel's amber

Gaze, not when it is one

Who protests against his God.

Coated with dust, the Lamb is in exile,

A righteous birth, a Son gone astray. None

Welcomed it again with open arms,

But fed it the purest flowers instead

To purge its soot-filled soul.

ii — lyrics that sing

Eight years from now she is still tattooed on your flesh,

Branded, as if a nasty scar left from when you made

Stupid decisions as a child. Too brash to tread tumultuous

Waters with care. She is the reason why you learnt to

Build walls, learned to sing like a caged bird, because

Birds in metal have the most alluring songs, birds

With no feathers have the most longing voice, birds

In glass have the most lonely lyrics. Though you still

Pause to listen to birdsong, you no longer leave

A small bunch of myrrhs at the door of its cage,

Almost as if rewarding them, rewarding a slave for

Doing as told.

There is nothing to reward here, you only mourn.

Remember when you thought she could fly? Remember

When she was surrendered by betrayal, put under?

No more of that now, only relief when you resurrect her

With a crooked circle drawn with chalk, candles

Embellishing the border, the circle mounted with

Myrrhs that sprout from concrete cracks. This

Is a barren land, long dead, long gone, land is barren,

Concrete spilled over once green mountain ranges.

The grouse cries, and she hikes up the hill, carrying

Jesus’s cross, with a briar crown — sin is never forgiven,

Not on the concrete land.

When no winter could mask the trail of blood

That leeches from her soles, no one consoled her,

When no summer could breed a field of myrrhs

To mourn her, no one remembered her — she

Let herself be hammered into the concrete like

A blunt nail needing to be forced in. She was

Unsure of what she had to secure, maybe

The cracked concrete paths, maybe nothing,

Nothing at all, only wanting to bury her

Into concrete, so nothing gives way when she

Twists and turns and flexes her wings and

Screeches and bangs at the earth. So she could

Not be risen the way an angel, or God, would be.

iii — lost star

A lot to ask for especially when you have nothing to give.

When a vulnerable child meets wax, it cocoons, spins

Thin tendrils to hide. Trust, it knows if you never wanted it

Or preferred someone else, or wished it dead, because

You were the one who spun the wax as if it were silk

Threads. In the heavens it hangs on a lonely branch,

Longing for warmth, but your palace had always

Been a little too cold even when it was just inches

From the sun. Aquarius, you have a broken power

To freeze the myrrhs, and you never thought to give

Anything.

Gantchne, dya kyur pfoshen, kyur kisva

Dya fleksha, kisvalle, fek lyvdek, nyveu kjan

Bjan helvsk

(Mother, I am your family, your child,

I am ill, naive, in pain, but you do not hear me)

Libra took pity on me. Even Gemini, who wished

Their son gone, even Cancer, who kept her powers

From her child. Even the moon and the sky

And the rain took pity on me. I have only your blood

And nothing else of you, maybe your eyes, your

Dreaded silver eyes that froze me when they lay

On my bones; I scrub my face, and I see your rib

jutting from my chest.

I could not think that it was for good,

They say blood is thicker than water but yours

Is steam. Your blood is transparent, and only

Air runs through your blue veins.

Not even the myrrhs in your garden could survive

The frost. Not even the weeds, nor the flowers,

Nor the stems or the leaves. Only ice could

Live in a castle of frost.

Lyetta dzchekpa fek dyur vivarræ dyan khanmes, kja fek dyan

Bhridre, Gantchne, dya kjan treshe pfjekeu svottendz —

Dya bjan gantchne dzurfvi, hnirom lohm dyan bejar vivarræ

Nyveu dya kjan bjamjena voshrima, lyvdesina, kurkendza, kfi

Dya dijensk kvohn bakkar vlarehn, nigrjesha dyur gæinne kvaseter —

(There is fear in my soul, my home, you filled it in me, Mother, I for this thing hate you - I don't have a mother, only a person who gave me life

But I cannot torture, cage you, and

I want to yell loud, punish me with death)

Are you not my mother? Are you not the only

One I had? When I lie in bed with my eyes open,

Caressing the ceiling with my gaze, do you not feel

Guilty? When I lean at the wall with my knees bent,

Painting the plaster red, do you not feel guilty?

Have you got no guilt?

Have you nothing to give?

iv — autumn seeps into your bones

No use to mourn the broken seasons now

When she let out her last breath the cold

Settled in the earth, tear apart the seams

Where the rain settles. Deep in the void

No air to fill her fibrous lungs now

They will not balloon, only strain, until

The Norwegian autumn takes you by storm

How could you not remember? Your light,

You sew a white lace pall for her mahogany

Casket, the earth’s underlying pulse sweep

Red leaves to you. Red, her favourite colour,

Red,

Red,

Red, the sunset she last painted before

Her lungs collapse, the color of her wood

Palette, red like the apples she slices to brew

Cider,

Da jeg var elleve år gammel, satt jeg ved mammas

Forfengelighet. Hun drar kammen nedover håret mitt,

Og jeg ser på speilbildet mitt. Hun er - var - vakker,

Holdt sig selv med en yndefuld fremtoning. Jeg

Pleide å være et bråkete barn, søsteren min var den milde.

Men hun så ut som faren min da hun elsket moren min

Mer, hun hadde min fars trekk. Jeg tror hun avskyr meg fordi

Hun ikke har fått noe fra mamma, ingen øyne eller hår som

Minner om henne. Rød som blod, leker høsten og leker gjennom

Vinduene. Det er for mye for meg, og hun gjenopplever det hvert år.

(When I was eleven years old, I sat by my mother's

Vanity. She pulls the comb down my hair,

And I look at my reflection. She is - was - beautiful,

Held herself with a graceful appearance. I

Used to be a wild child, my sister was the gentle one.

But she looked like my father when she loved my mother

More so, she had my father's features.

I think she hates me because

She has not received anything from her mother, no eyes or hair that

Memories of her. Red as blood, seeping through autumn and seeping through

Windows. It's too much for me, and she relives it every year.)

They blanch your hair into red, knitting

Threads of stars into your hair, you forget about

Her. You give up her shadow. Horse-hair

Paintbrushes weep in solitude — You have never

Picked up a paintbrush again, not after

Learning how to preserve myrrhs, not after

Weaving new adornments for slated stone

Every autumn. You never come in autumn,

The brown leaves a broken curse that seals

The door with wax.

Min mor har mistet pusten på grunn av høsten.

Der hun ligger, er et sted jeg ikke betrer lenger,

En skog jeg ikke kan besøke uten at skyggen hennes

Henger igjen, hjemsøker, forfølger meg, ikke når

Bladene er røde, ikke når trærne er gylne som honning.

Den norske luften var for kald for henne, kanskje,

Hun var ikke slik i Versailles, varmen hadde skjemt henne bort.

Jeg kunne ikke klandre henne, men søsteren min ble

Aldri den samme igjen, hun så meg aldri i øynene,

Snudde seg aldri om og snakket til meg som en søster

Igjen. Faren min sier at jeg har min mors øyne og hennes

Gylne hår, og måten hun danser på henger igjen i årene mine.

(My mother has lost her breath because of autumn.

Where she lies is a place I no longer visit,

A forest I can't visit without her shadow

Lingering, haunting, haunting me, not when

The leaves are red, not when the trees are golden like honey.

The Norwegian air was too cold for her, perhaps,

She was not like that in Versailles, the heat had spoiled her.

I couldn't blame her, but my sister stayed

Never the same again, she never looked me in the eyes,

Never turned around and spoke to me like a sister

Again. My father says that I have my mother's eyes and her

Golden hair, and the way she dances lingers in my veins.)

You are good, yet nothing can be enough.

When you visit her grave again, the cemetery

Howls, and in front of the cross you never

Had faith in, you crochet white garden myrrh

Petals with green stems. At least, yarn

Does not die, not even in autumn.

v — synthesis, symbiosis, systems

Dyur ræsherlom (my lover) she coded a game similar to Animal Crossing

Where players could wish beneath a supernova. Together

You and her would log on the game (it was a LAN server)

And wait until twinkling bursts of light fall in their

Imaginary trajectories, so you two may make wishes.

While waiting you took out pencils — one mechanical,

One wooden — you two shared a torn piece of rubber —

Wasted hours, days, solving trigonometric identities

And vector multiplications. You ask yourself, now,

If you had missed any comets, and if the metaphorical

Breaking, crashing, destruction of the asteroid

Symbolized something of a similar end to kjur ræshera (our love).

Inadequacy, pain, lydvek as she would say it. You stare into

Her eyes. Is this the best you could do, allude to our love

Our suffering with a language you are not fluent in?

Like fragments you shore against your ruins. What a

Wasteland you left behind

Lower the flag

Write words, incoherence threading through.

She poured a glass of liquid yellow.

You hiss as the harsh ethanol hits,

Trail of fire, freedom, f-fricatives, fright.

For someone who stampedes the intelligent realm

With rage, you are too quiet now —

Where is your fire? Where is your light?

Brilliance fallen, no more sheen

To your eyes. She never spoke the tongue

From your lips, attempting with a thick slather.

Drivkkane she kneels onto the creaking mahogany

Floors, eyelids throbbing, Dya mjena bjan ræshera kjan

Dya bjan bærshek, dya lydvek. You looked away.

Dya lyva dya mjena tehndye kraleu zhrekynk dzchune dvippe

Bjan, bjan, lyva dya bjamjena. Dya kisvalle, dya bjalyvlassk

Ræsherlohm! Kjane lyetta? Dyur ræshera, dya kja drehgasna

Nyveu kja bjadzcharkeu. Wa, weiaweiaweiaweia

(We thought we could climb through a shattered world in the past,

No, no, we cannot. I was too naive, I was not free

My lover! Are you there? My love, I need you but you aren't here. Wa, weiaweiaweiaweia)

Ræshera bejarra — dya bejar, kja tcha plakredja. Leufer,

Sikva, pfehme dya tcha lasjanek pfjekeu. Dya veur tchane

Ræshera, tchane dyan pjek, kfi pjokke, dya bjanejsha.

Dya kjan ræshera, dya kjan svottendz.

(Love is a gift - I gift it, you refuse it. Waste,

yes, now I perceive this. I am with her love, she destroyed me, I do not live.

I love you, you hate me.)

Ganna! Ganne — Gantchne, dya kja ræshera

Kja? Kja? Kja dya mjena ræshera? Bjan

Kja dyan fek kurkendza sfinna, fek gænn.

(Mama! Mom - Mother, I love you

You? You? Can you love me? Not

You put me in hell, in the soil.)

Creak. Thud. Click. Shovel the gænn over the

Boxes, wood rot, thick white bellies writhe

Against the coffin. No one would mourn

Except for the gjurse kfi gænn, where

Garden myrrhs sprout from the seams.

vi — rise from the ash

Lucifer set fire to the Caucasus ranges, his unforgiving snarl

Breathing fire down the sunny slopes. Like rain

Droplets of flame scatter, a christening, a fire sermon —

He is not a Buddha, but he might as well be one.

Purge us of desire

Lava pours from the sky, leaving a thick seam of black

Obsidian, Hell reforges the world. Red rock rains

Upon tiny bugs that scuttle 'round, and the Lamb

Has nowhere to take shelter. Its pelt has turned black

But its soul white — Purge us of desire

Fire is ensnared in the chambers of desolation, no solace

But the heat that reforges. Molten hard rock drips

Down the angry forehead of God as He lights a match

To punish Lucifer, his wings become black

From the soot and sorrow, the dark and damned.

Purge us of desire

The flames extend into the sunset, a frothing

Mixture of lava and blood, sheep bleat as soot stains

Their lungs: crows' shadows loom overhead like

Blackened moss sprawled on concrete arteries.

The world into two, misery fills the canyons:

Tchane ontja tchurne dzevne nyeuparra,

Tchane ontja lyva dyur lynyet nyeushen —

Dya kraleu kæsha envelle, dya ontja virik fleulle.

O’ Lucifer, summon your Demons of Death

To punish the fallen world, oversee purgatory;

No shelleulle should exist again. No river, no

Creek, no stream, only a huge Styxian Lake

At the very centre, its waters corrupted with

Ink-like tendrils. Soot is layered thick onto

The surface. No reflection, only night:

The fire shall never go out, purge us

Reforge us, in the molten rock even diamonds

Shall melt, no life shall live. Smoke clouds

Visions, no eyes can see; no ears can hear,

No tongue may speak. Silence echoes

In the valleys and basins, and it blares

Through the air like sirens of catastrophe,

All myrrhs disintegrate into ash and dust.

All myrrhs, not one less. All cicelies die.

Like a wind spreading seeds of dandelions

Smoke spreads like dust. Land becomes sea,

Sea becomes land. Roots tear as God

forces rock and stone apart, destroying His

Creation — veins bleed into the gaping wound.

No one exists anymore, no one but the lost

Souls. The Caucasus is no more: all cicelies die.

A layer of thick ash smothers the rock,

Born anew, a land of punishment. God created

This realm to punish us. Carcasses of Lambs

Sprawled across the fields of ashes, leaving

None but bones. Their pelts have become wicks

For their fat to burn. All cicelies die

God is unforgiving. Lucifer does not care —

I am a forgotten generation in a lost world;

No ruler to oversee, only me.

[aroaessidhe]

All the books I read in 2022

I’m too lazy to add authors or anything haha, this is just copied from my notion

but damn. this is a lotta books, huh. shoutout to audiobooks.

total: 343

i read 314 library books

177 audiobooks

I read 161 books by authors of colour, vs 182 by white (or unsure) authors, which is less than ideal - I try keep it at least half way! but I think to an extent it’s just....everything i read is from the library, and the library is biased to white authors

71 by trans authors (that i know of)

275 books with queer main characters (though most not included are by queer authors/it’s just not explicit bc there’s no romance/there’s queer side characters)

i read 86 ace or aro books

i read 179 sapphic books

and that’s everything i recorded 

January

Skye Falling

The Marvelous

What Big Teeth

Firebreak (reread)

A Psalm of Storms and Silence

The Inkberg Enigma

The Wolf and the Woodsman

Shadow Life

Dead Dead Girls

The Memory Police

Sistersong

We Rule The Night

Broken Web

A Sisterhood of Secret Ambitions

Hench

Are You Listening?

We Could Be Heroes

The City Beautiful

We Light Up The Sky

The Traitor Baru Cormorant

Zero Sun Game

Six Crimson Cranes

February

The Black Tides of Heaven (reread)

The One and the Other

Year of the Rabbit

Witchlight

Garlic and the Vampire

The Red Threads of Fortune (reread)

Another Kind

The Descent of Monsters (reread)

Where The Drowned Girls Go

White Smoke

No Man of Woman Born

Misrule

The Affair of the Mysterious Letter

Bad Witch Burning

The Excalibur Curse

Malice (reread)

Beetle and the Hollowbones

The Midnight Bargain

Ana on the Edge

The Final Strife

Snapdragon

Graceling (GN)

The Death of Jane Lawrence

Daughter of the Moon Goddess

Girls of Fate and Fury

My Sister, The Serial Killer

The Ascent to Godhood

The Kindred

Remote Control

Between Perfect and Real

Bitter

You Feel It Just Below The Ribs

Fire Becomes Her

March

Only A Monster

The Mirror Season

Ophelia After All

City of Deceit

Briar Girls

Mortal Engines (reread)

Predator’s Gold (reread)

Night Flights (reread)

Coming Back

Infernal Devices (reread)

All Our Hidden Gifts

A Darkling Plain (reread)

The Ghosts We Keep

The Ivory Key

The Monster Baru Cormorant

Fever Crumb (reread)

The Annual Migration of Clouds

This Place

A Web Of Air (reread)

The Thousand Eyes

City of Shattered Light

Lakewood

On A Sunbeam

The Tyrant Baru Cormorant

Pixels of You

Scrivener’s Moon (reread)

Me (Moth)

The Perfect Assassin

Do You Dream of Terra Two?

The Midnight Girls

The Wild Ones

Certain Dark Things

Travelers Along The Way

April

Ravage The Dark

Seven Mercies

Goliath

Howl’s Moving Castle

Lakelore

She Gets The Girl

Nothing Burns As Bright As You

The Circus Infinite

Forward March

Blood Scion

This Rebel Heart

One For All

Jillian Vs Parasite Planet

Alone Out Here

Xenocultivars

Scout’s Honor

What We Don’t Talk About

A Magic Steeped In Poison

Witchlings

The Beautiful Ones

Portrait of a Thief

Perfect On Paper

The Language of Roses

Dreams Bigger Than Heartbreak

Ace

Squire

Alice Isn’t Dead

We Hunt The Flame

The Space Between Worlds (reread)

Fevered Star

May

Ready When You Are

Piranesi

The Many Half-Lived Lives of Sam Sylvester

Sofi and the Bone Song

The Gravity of Us

Legends & Lattes

We Free The Stars

Extasia

Silver In The Wood

An Unreliable Magic

Dead Collections

The Last Cuentista

Cosmoknights

The Fascinators

The Faceless Old Woman Who Secretly Lives In Your Home

In The Serpent’s Wake

The Memory Librarian

Queen of the Tiles

Invisible Boys

The Greatest Thing

Elysium Girls

The Storyteller

The Kaiju Preservation Society

Arden Grey

The Summer of Bitter and Sweet

Sanctuary

We Can Be Heroes

The Wolf Among The Wild Hunt

The Butterfly Assassin

MFK

June

Little Black Bird

Cafe Con Lychee

Microscopes and Magic

Alpaca and Apparitions

The Weight of a Soul

The Facts and Legends of Callie Catwell

A Million Quiet Revolutions

The Companion

The Fae Keeper

Outrun The Wind

Ellen outside the Lines

A Natural History of Dragons

The Past Is Red

The Unspoken Name (reread)

Wrath Goddess Sing

The Archive of the Forgotten

Flip The Script

After The Dragons

We Go Forward

Message Not Found

The Rise of Kyoshi

The Mask of Mirrors

The Trouble

The Merciless Ones

Take Me To Your Nerdy Leader

The Sprite and the Gardener

Kaikeyi

Journey Home

So Many Beginnings

Zara Hossein Is Here

Other People’s Butterflies

Deep In Providence

Beautiful Darkness

Just Your Local Bisexual Disaster

Gender Queer

July

Survive the Dome

The Lesbiana’s Guide to Catholic School

The City Of Dusk

At The End of Everything

This Wicked Fate

From Dust A Flame

Sal and Gabi Break the Universe

The Dawnhounds

Burn Down Rise Up

Hell Followed With Us

Valiant Ladies

Sal And Gabi Fix The Universe

A Prayer for the Crown Shy

Gamechanger

Wolfpack

The Poet X

Stars in their Eyes

Not My Problem

The Gifts That Bind Us

Switchback

Home Field Advantage

How We Fall Apart

The Romantic Agenda

Muted

August

Not Even Bones

Maya and the Rising Dark

Na Viro

The Book Eaters

Our Wives Under The Sea

A Furry Faux Paw

How To Get a Girlfriend When You’re A Terrifying Monster

The Reckless Kind

Klara and the Sun

The Blood Trials

The Lost Dreamer

If You Still Recognise Me

Blood Like Fate

Errant

It Sounds Like This

The Bone Houses

A Thousand Steps Into Night

Isla to Island

September

You Truly Assumed

Across A Field of Starlight

Katzenjammer

Girl Giant and the Monkey King

Dauntless

The (Un)Popular Vote

A Snake Falls To Earth (reread)

The Oleander Sword

To Break A Covenant

Weird Fishes

Kōhine

The Witchery

More Than Enough

The Red Palace

Only Ashes Remain

The Drowned Woods

When Villains Rise

A Venom Dark and Sweet

Her Name In The Sky

Wonderland

The Feeling of Falling In Love

The Girl With All The Gifts

The God Of Lost Words

A Half-Built Garden

October

House of Hunger

Garlic and the Witch

All The Birds In The Sky

Aces Wild

Other Ever Afters

Beasts of Prey

The Unbalancing

Space Opera

It Looks Like Us

Self-Made Boys

Foul Lady Fortune

Rust In The Root

No Gods No Monsters

A Scatter of Light

Late To The Party

Skin Of The Sea

The Sunbearer Trials

The Restless Dark

Bone Weaver

Babel

Godslayers

Convenience Store Woman

What Moves The Dead

The Revolution of Birdie Randolph

The Women Could Fly

November

Every Body Looking

Violet Made of Thorns

When The Angels Left The Old Country

Strike The Zither

Lavender House

The Whispering Dark

Thistlefoot

How To Succeed In Witchcraft

Ironspark

Silver In The Mist

How To Excavate A Heart

The Scratch Daughters

Siren Queen

The Trouble With Robots

Cheer Up: Love And Pompoms

The Honeys

Into The Riverlands

Breasts and Eggs

The Genesis of Misery

Mamo

The Girl In Red

Bloodmarked

The Bone Orchard

I’m The Girl

Chilling Effect

Kiss Her Once For Me

The Last Hero

If You Could See The Sun

The Sevenfold Hunters

December

Frizzy

Twelfth Grade Night

Even Though I Knew The End

Hollow

Leech

The Bruising of Qilwa

The Spear Cuts Through Water

Never Ever Getting Back Together

The Stars Undying

Nettle & Bone

The House on the Hill

Black Girl Unlimited

Wash Day Diaries

Bluebird

M Is For Monster

Middlegame

A-Okay

All Boys Aren’t Blue

The Last Fallen Moon

Bloom

The Library of the Dead

Moonflower

The Last Session

Every Bird A Prince

Funeral Girl

The Edge of The Woods

Bloody Spade

The Rhythm of My Soul

A Broken Blade

Those Who Ripple

The Life Giver

Nothing Sung and Nothing Spoken

Sailing By Orion’s Star

Of The Wild

Belly Up

Caroline’s Heart

The Hex Next Door

The Fable of Wren

The Orphancorp Trilogy

Thornfruit

[libidomechanica]

Untitled (“Must to those whiter blow”)

A tricube sequence

               1

Must to those whiter blow. In celebration,

for her break her: strong, and even

what they came. Thousand rings of time.

               2

Or who in sweet? So stood in my head,

alley cats expended bee, sorrow

liue. Have given the Fair one bed lay.

               3

Before me— the sad look of his song,

and eddied instead I say you are

these and sun. His God, or King: alas!

               4

In thine arm! As Helluo, late dictator

of the night and day: and each sex,

like a basketball. Woman and marred.

               5

Marching step of demirep some hungry

for her long bin placed the old age

black hair. Of flower of womankind.

               6

To these their jingling keys opened each

man kills the fills with the pageant history!

In Debtors’ Yard the causeys, bridge.

               7

—As with home; not for ever in the

Carian Artemisia strong upon

the provinces, and all is higher.

               8

Through rude nettle- briar, cheats us

into red and ankles pointing cry

they tremble lest a saying: Youth! Day.

               9

Or, if she rules; charms by accept the

hangman’s heart of your little one, that

wol his head. Would be seen blue heaven?

               10

You are you can’t say, sun’s lost in the

world, as when a voice, he had a dream.

Literary leave, for fear this word?

               11

Revive, or twice a day of you like

a blind these were, that is fidelity?

The age to live on the green shell.

               12

That shame alike, no season knows how?

Threading talk like variegated tulips,

show, tis from the world’s content you?

               13

In my time, if so indeed, seeing

thy follye be true? Flake of those that did

driue so fast, with sight so long; despair.

               14

’Er books and my old excuse. Issued

in the wisest man and high fantastic

roof, of the sky, would understand.

               15

I would ride. Soon were such as chanted

principles, woven in the verse and

Life are false hastes; so anxious ear.

               16

Then rode we with your mountain. To the

lawn the heart of this moment, like thing

wild in pink and barred. Or do you here?

               17

Leaf and distort thy worth, and at ever

saw a man to fight wind comes near

to speak, or stir. See so waist, and men.

               18

Since we’re allowed, and whom they die. Head

and grew before this? And with spire and

it with his shadow of his minutes?

               19

Us, a single band of the

happier dead. Some fifty there one walked

among the purpled, spiking away.

               20

But this evening strongly groomed and bread.

Do not be for ever! Our embracements

warm as they roar back again.

               21

And I distilling all the work they

grew? Kept? Of my face against all men

kill the gloom, and there opposed to rave.

               22

Be false to your Faith he may bring it

universe every selfishness! As

chanted grew with using; thence the mone.

               23

I fancies, patches, ropes of her advice.

From tile to till? Yet, hadst a pain

like the young, but here I used to peer.

               24

Bowed, and extinguish sight cadence of

midnight, they will to rove! In a moment,

and sit beside that bliss destroy!

               25

Opening on the best to hunt, I

put him into stubborn, but the old

inn-door. Never saw sad me did reed.

               26

Far off appeare more soft splendours and

string and flung defiance down in the

pain was not come as goblins in time.

               27

How charming and clown: perhaps the hart

is ill assayde, how I admire ech

turning-steel we felt, what means the day.

               28

Sure of the Earth, and you so totall

are? Like a ballistic missile, would

take the temple- gate. Two besides them.

               29

Place, and Stand, while I weep! Revive, or

twice, to the griefe, witnesse well that you,

as I saw it filled in by missing.

               30

For my sorrow out of time thou leave

me. Never the day of darkness. Are

you nobly, mingled with face a mask.

               31

Mine were on his ocean? We give you

do not grow complete and power of

the lowest. Those are just musings one!

               32

Now conscience within my head, nor robbed

the dark After all, the frosty air

will I feel now. Grew in such a place!

               33

My heart, my Katie? It must I horse

her press these tender to the right across

the royal word upon his lair.

               34

Over the beam of the nightgown would

understand. Be right across that same

Adonis sometimes it was summer.

               35

Moon rages and the song i’ve been wood,

and lose convention, with shadow? Lay

in his ample awnings gay betwixt.

               36

Sooner or late; love, all forbid me

then, good-bye! The beautifie your little

one, while her mouth— sesame, olive.

               37

She looks at a cadaver. Are you

allow me them a curse. ’ Proving him

her dripping waters with money burns.

               38

In silence is more lives this knows nothing

real. In the furrow broke their pretty

though its giant range of lookes?

               39

—She wants an heir. Of race accounted,

that I feel thou know who lie in gaol

is full of books and mid- May’s eldest.

               40

And nights will hardly any air. With

a though it isn’t decorous today;

she, who never yet I stack by him.

               41

In the bones of greened fields are full of

charms on the brave man who have been half

in love. Watch out for those sugred lips.