#halw

[ggblasts]

Spotted: The next round of arrivals for my movie night in Central Park! Blaze looking dashing and full of mystery as he struts into the park in a white button up with dress pants on. Briar, on the other hand, looks like she's about to go to the U.S. Open instead and of course, she's looking like her networth. Marilyn while looking gorgeous, the outfit screams that she's not sure if she wants to be hot or cold for the movie night. Maybe she's got plans to cuddle up with someone? Her friend, Vivienne, lookng like she does not want to cuddle up to anyone, though we do wonder if she's here with a venetta or not. Hal looking like he's about to star in a cheesy Christmas rom com and he's the lowley baker that the woman from Manhattan falls in love with. Then here's Mrs. Elijah Hamilton, Elise! Looking hot, but we wonder if this outfit has anything to do with her husband or if she's trying to impress someone else? Obie looking like the same old, same old n his basic ass outfit. Asher looking hot with his glow up and we love everything, except for the shoes, Reid, or Briar even, should have stopped him from wearing those shoes. Carter lookig like he texted Mary and Adrianna to see if they were wearing leather jackets, so he had to wear a leather jacket too. Rounding out these looks is Jay Hamilton. He hasn't been to an event in a while, but we gotta say, the basic plaid and pants combo really works for him.

Keep the looks and drama coming!

XOXO, Gossip Girl

@theblazemartinez @thebriarcoleman @themarilynsinclair @viviennexbarnes @halxwilliams @elisevdw @obiexxbergmann @asherxxkramer @carterxxbaizen @jayxxhamilton

[unconditionallyeffervescent]

I'm officially back on insta @ unconditionally_effervescent 💜💜

[lilither]

Hala aynı bıraktığım gibi ergen

[hiljametsa]

Proposal for Reconstructed English

The thesis at the heart of this proposed reconstruction process is as follows: The English language, in its earliest recognizably attested form, that is Old English, or Anglo-Saxon, is a full and capable language, able to adequately and generally express the experience, internal and external, of its speakers and writers. It is fit for new life in the contemporary world. In the evolution of English, the language has lost much of its original lexicon and grammar. This is to be restored to it, according to its earliest attested meaning and usage. Orthography is to be formed according to what standards are discernible in Middle and Early Modern English, in order to increase legibility to contemporary speakers. Certain native letters (þ and ð) are to be avoided for this reason, but their usage may be preferential. Syntax is to be formed along the lines of original usage, but may be adjusted for legibility. Phonology will be largely untouched, as the vast chasm of English phonological diversity is now as frustrating to descriptive efforts as it has ever been in the past. This is not a second attempt at what has heretofore been called “Anglish”, which is in general a lexical swap-out project intent on the removal of Latin-derived words from the vocabulary of Modern English. In Reconstructed English, Latin derived words which appear in the language pre-1066 will remain firmly in the lexicon. Where native Old English alternatives exist for latinate words, the native will be preferred. Where this occurs with other Germanic languages (almost solely Old Norse), both the native and non-native will be equally retained. Primary lexical and orthographical preference is to be given to Old English and Middle English, with reference preceding thereafter to Old Norse and German.

Primary influential texts include: Beowulf, the Exeter Book, The Anglo-Saxon Gospels, The Ormulum, Chaucer, and the Wycliffe Bible.

Example Text of Reconstructed English:

Our Fader, thou the eart in héavenum Thín Name béa yhalwed, Thín Rích become, Thín Will béa yworden, so on éarthen as in héavene. Yíve us today ouren daylían bréad, And foryív us oure gyltes, as we foryíveth ourem gyltendum. And ney ylæd us into costnungum, Ack aleís us from evile. Amen.

Example paradigms, noun, verb, and adjective:

Héaven - m. heaven, sky. From OE heofon. Sing., Pl. N. héaven, héavnes A. héaven, héavnes G. héavenes, héavena D. héavene, héavenum

Halwen - to hallow, make holy. present, past 1. ic halwe, halwed 2. thou halwest, halwedest 3. he halweth, halwed plr. halwíeth, halweden part. halwend, yhalwed sub. halwe, halwed halwen, halweden imp. halwe halwíeth inf. halwen halwene

Our - our, of or belonging to us. masc., fem., neu. N. our, our, our A. ouren, oure, our G. oures, oure, oures D. ourem, oure, ourem

Plr. N. our, our, our A. our, our, our G. oura, oura, oura D. ourem, ourem, ourem

[melodysoars]

“Whan that Aprille with his shoures soote,

The droghte of March hath perced to the roote,

And bathed every veyne in swich licóur

Of which vertú engendred is the flour;

Whan Zephirus eek with his swete breeth

Inspired hath in every holt and heeth

The tendre croppes, and the yonge sonne

Hath in the Ram his halfe cours y-ronne,

And smale foweles maken melodye,

That slepen al the nyght with open ye,

So priketh hem Natúre in hir corages,

Thanne longen folk to goon on pilgrimages,

And palmeres for to seken straunge strondes,

To ferne halwes, kowthe in sondry londes;

And specially, from every shires ende

Of Engelond, to Caunterbury they wende,

The hooly blisful martir for to seke,

That hem hath holpen whan that they were seeke.”

— CHAUCER, The Canterbury Tales

[crimsonlyinglilly]

Hale the boy grew.

New AU where Elijah makes a different choice in the wake of Tatia's death.

Is this an excuse to write sad parental Elijah? Yes.

-----

By the time Elijah manages to pull himself back it is far too late and Tatia, his beautiful brave Tatia is still within his arms.

A scream builds in his throat but before he can unleash it he chokes it back, he doesn’t deserve to grieve her.

He killed her, he hunted her down, he-

She’s dead because of him, as part of him wants to take her to mother to get her to somehow fix this, another part was louder screaming this was her fault for taking their choice away, for making them monsters.

It was that voice that reminded him that Hale, the boy he had once believed he could call son, Tatia’s pride and joy was alone because of him and in a village of monsters; the wolves and his own family.

He couldn’t leave him, he had to make sure he was safe from here.

So he pulled himself from Tatia’s laying her body down with unending regret and choked apologies. 

“I’ll make sure he’s safe i promise.” he swore to her.

And ran.

When Niklaus returns later to look for his brother, he finds Tatia’s body and as he brings it back to Mother ,he blames himself for whatever had befallen his brother.

It’s around a hundred years before he sees him again.

—---

Hale is a good child, when Elijah arrives at Tatia’s home, still wet from washing off Tatia’s blood, and tells him to pack he does so without asking as Elijah does the same.

Elijah pushes down his concerns over his siblings, he needs to get Hale somewhere else safe first before he can go back, he owes Tatia that.

Hale doesn’t ask about Tatia until it gets dark as Elijah sets up a camp, leaving the seven year old by the warm fire; he doesn’t feel the cold as much anymore but a child would.

“Where’s mama?”

And suddenly all he can feel is cold, ice in his veins, like the monster he was, that he was trying so hard not to be. What was he thinking taking Hale away, alone when he was the one that had-

No he had to do this. Hale wasn’t safe near his family, near him, once he found a good family to take him he’d leave, he would make sure Tatia’s son had the best and then return to his siblings.

 A small hand grabbing his brought him from his thoughts.

“Lijah.”

He took a breath and didn’t wonder if a monster like him really needed to, he was dead father’s sword though his heart- no don’t think about that.

“I’m sorry Hale, your mama is not joining us.” he forced the words out, past the aching lump in his throat

“Why?” the boy asked with clear confusion.

“She’s gone.” he tried again to explain,

“Why?” the boy asked again, lips trembling as he fought back the tears gathering in his eyes, brave brave boy.

“A monster took her.” he admitted, wincing as the harsh words broke though the little control Hale had as he broke down in sobs, Elijah didn’t think before kneeling to pick up the boy and continued with ensuring the tent would keep them-Hale warm during the night, as the boy cried into his shoulder.

Hale weighed barely anything in his arm and as he worked he realised he didn’t tire, useful things but Elijah would prefer to still be human and tired instead of a monster who had killed and eaten the women he loved. 

—-

“Is that why we’re leaving?” Hale asked later after they had settled into the tent, Hale still laying on his chest since neither of them had wanted to let go. Holding the child made Elijah feel more human than he was now and Hale had just learnt he had lost his last parent.

“Because of the monster.” Halw asks again after a silence.

“Yes.” he lies because the true monster was the one Hale was laying on, “I’m taking you somewhere safe.” he tells him with more honesty.

“What about your siblings?” comes a question he wasn’t expecting forcing him to look down from the tent roof to the tired seven year old on his chest.

“What?” he blinked down at the boy, he had lost his mother, been taken from everything he knew and was worried about Elijah’s family.

“Mam-” the boy's breath hitched as he remembered but like the brave strong boy Tatia son was he didn’t let that stop him. “Mama says they very important to you.”

Elijah winces at the ‘says’ not ‘said’ and swallows back nauseous as he remembers her blood in his mouth.

“They’ll be fine.” he tells the boy and hopes it’s not another lie, his siblings didn’t need him at the moment they had each other, Hale just had him until he found someone better.

—--

“Brother Please!” Klaus begged and Finn flinched at the crack in his voice.

Father’s barked order didn’t make Finn move again until it was mother’s voice.

“Elijah!” Klaus cried out and Finn bit his cheek and looked away from the hope in Klaus' voice because Elijah was always his protector, while Finn-

Finn was a failure, proof of that in the new life they took, if mother had trusted him the way she claimed she had, she would have confided in him and he could have convinced her not to do it. Not to change them, not to kill them in an misguided attempt to protect them.

Instead she hadn’t, instead father had stabbed him in the back after already killing two of his siblings and followed it by killing his last two.

Klaus screamed as the ritual started, to seal his true father’s nature, and Finn failed to find a reason they would put Klaus through this, they had already made them all monsters.

The only ones he could find were selfish reasons, mother to appease father, to cover her crimes and father to cover the proof of his unmanning.

Freya would hate him, he thought in the silence of screams afterwards, as his parents vanished in different directions leaving him to his siblings, the ones Freya would have been delighted to love and guide.

Henrik dead,

Kol, off in rage and despair at his loss of magic,

Elijah fled, vanished with Tatia’s child before any of them had found her body,

Rebekah, spelled asleep because mother knew she would fight for Klaus,

Niklaus passed out hanging from the ties, forgotten by those that should care most.

He moves to untie him, and tries to ignore how much Niklaus sounds like a child when he catches him.

He places his brother beside the sleeping Rebekah, in the morning, she would sooth his anger and betrayal, while Finn needed to think. Without Elijah, and with their new instincts he would need to step up since neither his parents were thinking beyond themselves.

[defectivegembrain]

Trick or treat!

You get Halloween itself! 1781 Scottish shortening of Allhallowe'en, All Hallows even, etc., 1550s, "the evening before All-Hallows." From hallow, Middle English halwe "holy person, saint", from Old English halga.

Source with more details here!

[versey21]

7th April

from the Prologue to the Canterbury Tales by Geoffrey Chaucer

These are the opening lines to Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales, one of the first pieces of English literature to be published by the new printing presses, and also written in Middle English which is (just) decipherable by modern readers. Set in April, it tells the story of a miscellaneous troop of characters, going on pilgrimage together to Canterbury. Each character has a story to tell which is why the Tales bear a resemblance to modern series or soap operas.

Source: Encyclopaedia Britannica

from the Prologue to the Canterbury Tales.

Whan that Aprille with his shours soote,

The droghte of March hath perced to the roote,

And bathed every veyne in swich licour

Of which vertu engendered is the flour;

Whan Zephirus eek with his swete breeth

Inspired hath in every holt and heeth

The tendre croppes, and the yonge sonne

Hath in the Ram his halfe cours y-ronne,

And smale fowles maken melodye,

That slepen all the nyghte with open ye,

(So pricken hem Nature in hir corages),

Than longen folk to goon on pilgrimages,

And palmeres for to seken straunge strondes,

To ferne halwes, kowthe in sondry londes;

And specially, from every shires ende

Of Engelond, to Caunterbury they wende,

The hooly blisful martir for to seke,

That hem hath holpen whan that they were seeke.

Chaucer used the pilgrimage as a device to gather many representative “types” (the Knight; the Miller; the Prioress etc) as travelling companions to tell each other a set of amusing stories describing the lives of English people in the fourteenth century. The spring pilgrimages were often a light hearted, even raucous, affairs as they combined religious purpose with the atmosphere of a holiday.

[wild-karrde]

Ok ok part 3 of "Karrde Screams at Neyo" and LET ME TELL YOU THERE WILL BE A LOT OF SCREAMING.

I have admittedly fallen down on playing BG3 just because my mental headspace has SUCKED recently, and I want to be in the correct mode to enjoy that story rather than have it feel like a grind, but I KNOW YOU SAID HE'S LIKE THIS IN GAME, AND THAT DOES UUUUUUH DRIVE THE URGE TO PLAY UP A BIT. THIS MAN. THIS. MAN.

The way you structured this? IMMACULATE. Like being IN THE THICK OF IT and then to withdraw to the moments before and heeeeee justtttt ALKhgkl;dawsh;glkahsldg;halw;gjla;sdgd. I am doing my best to form coherent sentences, but please do not have too many expectations in that regard because BOY HOWDY MY BRAIN BLUE SCREENED. The way he speaks to you, the way you describe his tone, the way he's gentle yet persistent and eager.

“Your tongue is dangerous, little flower. It’ll get you into trouble one of these days.”

SAID WITHOUT A HINT OF IRONY. SIR.

Neyo, your smut is, as usual, perfection. It is so easy to get lost in it and just wind up staring at the computer screen slack-jawed (not that I did... definitely not... for sure). The banter is EVERYTHING holy shit. I am SWEATING.

“I’ll be as gentle as I can be, but… I wouldn't be opposed to seeing you covered in my fingerprints, little flower. Nor to my own back bearing the marks of your… excitement, if you were so inclined.”

I'M FINE. IT'S FINE.

This is Halsin; the mighty druid, on his knees for you, moaning into you as his tongue laps up the arousal that drips down your thighs.

I AM SUDDENLY LESS FINE.

Like I could react to every passage of this fic, but it would just be with various screaming/passing out/swooning GIFs, but it IS JUST THAT GOOD. NEYO. YOU ABSOLUTE MASTERMIND.

You are not a god, but you have never felt more worshipped.

THIS LINE????? AMAZING. INSPIRED. WILL BE THINKING ABOUT THIS FOR THE NEXT 3-5 BUSINESS DAYS.

“You, my heart, are insatiable.” He kisses you, his lips soft on yours, his tongue greedy in your mouth. “I’m glad you are- so am I.”

I AM ON THE FLOOR STARING AT THE CEILING AND WANTING TO KNOW WHY, IN THIS UNJUST WORLD, THIS CANNOT ACTUALLY BE ME. YOU HAVE RUINED ME AND I AM GRATEFUL. THANK YOU FOR YOUR SERVICE.

⋆☾⋆ Big Love Ahead (3) ⋆☽⋆

NSFW ⋆ 18+ ⋆ Minors DNI

Summary: Feelings have been confessed, and what follows is... an explosion of the tension. Halsin thinks himself greedy when all he does is give.

Rating: Explicit Wordcount: 4.3k Descriptors: Reader is smaller than Halsin and has female anatomy. CW: Halsin eats pussy and he does it like there is no tomorrow, praise, mutual softness, talks of marking each other up, Halsin is a poet in disguise, fingering, tons of foreplay, dirty talk; TLDR: oral (f!receiving) A/N: This fic is dedicated specifically to my beloved @pinkiemme who listens to me scream about Halsin and inspires me every day with her insane skill and talent. Special shoutout to @maybege for zooming through a quick beta-read for me- ily!

✦⋆ « Chapter (2) ⋆✦⋆ Main Masterlist ⋆✦⋆ If you prefer AO3 ⋆✦

⋆༻༺⋆༺༻⋆••●••⋆༺༻⋆༻༺ ⋆

Chapter 3: The Lover

You are in heaven.

Halsin’s head is buried between your thighs, and there is nothing else you can think about but his tongue and his lips and his fingers and his nose and… him, just him and him and him.

Cold, hard stone digs into your back, but you don’t care as your fingers grab Halsin’s hair tighter, pulling at him, guiding him. He follows your silent commands easily, moaning as he buries his tongue deeper inside you.

You whine and whimper, hitting your head almost too hard as you let it fall back, trying to keep some tension in your body so you don’t slide down the wall.

****

Halsin had undressed you slowly, so slowly, as if you were not on fire by the mere idea of his touch. His skin kept rippling with golden shimmers, his eyes glowing in the dim light as his hands peeled layer after layer of clothing from you until you were bare before him.

“You, my heart, are… exquisite.” His voice is even more gravelly than usual, and you have to fight off the urge to press your thighs together as his eyes travel all over your vulnerable form.

“So beautiful,” he whispers as he leans down to kiss you. “The flowers already sing songs of your beauty as they grow, and the trees will whisper poems of my love for you for centuries to come. The grass will remember where we laid in it, and the stone where our hands touched it.”

“You’re sappy,” you laugh, relaxing a little at the way he looks at you. Like you hung the moon in the fucking sky. “I adore you with all my heart, do you know that? My sweet bear.”

The growl that escapes him makes you quiver, his legs trembling as he fights for control.

“You-“ he interrupts himself, pressing up against you, larger than life, warmer than the sun. “Your tongue is dangerous, little flower. It’ll get you into trouble one of these days.”

You smile at him and pull him down for a kiss.

“Oh, I certainly hope so.”

Halsin groans, his tongue hot in your mouth, his hands all over you, roaming, caressing, grabbing-

And suddenly you’re hoisted up, your back pressed against ice cold stone, your legs struggling to wrap around Halsin’s middle. You gasp, overwhelmed by how sudden, how easy it seems for him to move you like this. Halsin carries you as if you weigh nothing at all. He puts you down on your bed so gently, kneeling to kiss the inside of your thigh with lips that make you shake from their touch.

His eyes are golden when he looks up at you, pulling at you until your thighs rest on his shoulders, his face pressed nearly where you need him. He hums and shivers, but he keeps control. For now.

“You smell good,” he mumbles, his soft lips moving against the sensitive skin of your thigh. “My flower, my very own. You smell heavenly- tell me you’ll let me taste you. Let me taste the honey of your thighs and I’ll never ask for anything again.”

Your cheeks burn, but you dig your heels into the muscles of his back, burying your hands in his long hair to hold onto him for dear life.

“Yes,” you whisper breathlessly, “Of course, my love, anything you want to, anything and it’s yours. You never have to ask for anything again- I’ll be here. I’ll provide whatever you want willingly, eagerly. I’ll never make you ask for anything again, I’m all yours, my love.”

Halsin smiles so softly that your heart stops beating for a moment.

“Mhhhm.” His lips leave a searing path on your skin where they touch you, travelling up and up your thighs, his hands holding you steady and pulling you closer. “I have to know if you taste as good as you smell, my heart. Let me…”

When you look down at him, you can see the face of the bear in the face of the man, his teeth nearly fangs, his fingers almost claws. It only makes you love him more.

“Taste me then,” you murmur, easing the grip of your hands in his hair, tilting your hips as best you can. “I want you, my love. I want to feel you- I want to be known by you, I want to be everything you need, just like you are to me. My bear, my beautiful strong bear...”

Halsin shudders, his entire body bathed in a golden glow. He exhales slowly, his kisses growing languid on their path to the apex of your thighs.

“Dangerous,” he mumbles. “I knew it. What would you do if the bear came out to play, hm? It’s- you have no idea how hard it is to control myself when I have you here- so willing, so eager- everything I want laid out right before me, my beautiful angel asking to be tasted-“

“If the bear wants that as well…” you hesitate for a moment trying to find the right words. “I’m yours, whichever form you may be in. My desire is for you and you alone; no more, no less. The bear can have me just as the man can.”

Halsin makes a soft noise in the back of his throat, trembling against you, his fingers digging into your thighs with sharper nails than they should have.

“Silvanus have mercy,” he growls, voice so low you can feel the walls of the cave shake around you. “To see you with those eyes- touch you with those claws- you would take it? For me?”

Gently, you unwrap your legs from him, and he gets the hint, sitting up straighter between your thighs. You pull at his shoulders until your noses touch. He’s so tall he can barely fit between your legs like this, but you don’t mind. No, you don’t mind at all.

You cup his jaw in your hand that seems too small to be real in comparison to his sheer size. Halsin nuzzles his face into the touch and kisses your palm. You smile.

“My love,I would take anything I could get as long as it’s from you,” you whisper softly. “You are… all I want. If you lose control- if it all gets too much- we can stop… or we can keep going. I’m fine with either just so long as you are.”

Halsin growls, a sound that makes your teeth vibrate now that he is so close to you. You think you can feel yourself drip as slick gathers between your thighs at the sound.

His hand comes up to hold your face, and you nuzzle into the touch just as he did with you.

“I shall try to contain myself, my heart,” he sighs. “…for now.”

“Mhhm.” You smile at him, and his eyes are so full of affection you can’t breathe. “You are wonderful, Halsin. I hope you know that- I hope you know how much I mean that when I say it. You are the best man I have ever known, the best person I could have dreamed of meeting.”

He pulls you in for a kiss, soft, but full of passion, your tongue in his mouth, his hands in your hair. A coil forms in your belly from his touch alone. When he pulls back, you tug at his shirt.

“Take this off for me? I want to see you.”

“Anything for you, my flower.” He pulls the shirt off easily, and you watch his movement with a hunger you didn't know you could feel, burning in your chest, igniting a wild fervour in your belly. An expanse of skin is revealed to you: the broadness of his shoulders, the soft hair on his chest, to roundness of his belly. You cherish every inch of him that you get to see. Halsin’s hands settle on your thighs again, covering them almost entirely, and you wonder what it would be like to carry the marks of his love on your skin.

Your cheeks heated from the thought, you can’t keep quiet anymore, you have to tell him, you have to-

“Don’t hold back,” you whisper. “Let me feel how strong you are, my beautiful bear. I would be proud to carry the evidence of your love on my skin- to feel it every time I moved.”

Halsin’s teeth are sharp like fangs when he grins at you.

“I’ll be as gentle as I can be, but… I wouldn't be opposed to seeing you covered in my fingerprints, little flower. Nor to my own back bearing the marks of your… excitement, if you were so inclined.”

You choke on air when his hands slip under your ass to pull you even closer to his face. Halsin produces a pillow from somewhere, stuffing it under your back, his eyes never leaving yours. The desire in his look burns you up, it sets you aflame. All you want to do is make him happy.

When you tell him that, his smile is blinding and his eyes glow like molten gold in the dim light.

“You make me happy all the time, my heart. I have not felt this much joy in decades, and then I found you.” Golden sparks dance in his hair when he kisses you again. “Now the only thing that could make me happier than I am in this moment would be tasting you. I have waited so long.”

You kiss his face, his jaw; the palms of his hands; anything you can possibly reach. Anything to make him feel as worshipped and loved as you feel beneath his touch.

“You have been so patient - more patient than I myself have been. If that is what you desire,” you whisper, letting yourself fall so easily in his presence, “... well, who would I be to deny you? I would give you everything I have and all that I am in a heartbeat.”

He kisses your thighs, sharp fingers digging into soft skin. His lips are soft and warm, and the contrast of his mouth that treats you so gently and the strength of the hands that hold you in place has you trembling.

He teases you just a little- taking his time, caressing you, his breath hot on your dripping cunt though he does not touch you just yet. You whine and moan and arch your hips until you feel him smile against you.

“This is what you want?” he asks again, his voice rough with desire.

“You are what I want.” You smile and cup his jaw in your hand. His eyes are aflame and his teeth sharper than they should be, but it does not scare you. It only confirms that you are what he wants, and all you feel is lust and deep affection. “Please, Halsin. I need to- I want to feel you.”

“Then you shall have me, my heart.”

Pleasure drowns out everything else when he finally puts his mouth on you. You sigh- already nearly a moan, the tension finally breaking only to build and build when you allow yourself to realise what is happening. This is Halsin; the mighty druid, on his knees for you, moaning into you as his tongue laps up the arousal that drips down your thighs.

You arch your back and press your cunt up into his face. Halsin groans, hands wrapping around your waist as he pulls at you, burying his tongue between your parted legs.

“You are the sweetest thing,” he breathes, “the sweetest thing I have tasted in all my centuries. You are- gods have mercy- I could drown in you and never come up for air. Nature must have had me in mind when it made you, sweet as honey with a voice that could make nightingales cry- and you have never sounded so sweet as you do when you moan for me.”

“Mhhm… go on.” You are practically purring like a wild cat under his touches, your body vibrating with tension and excitement. “I’m all yours, my love.”

“All mine,” he mumbles. His fingers seem to glow from the inside when he squeezes your hips. “All mine, and sweet as honey. Nature truly has outdone itself with you, my flower.”

You shiver, then moan when Halsin dives back down to press his flattened tongue against your clit. Your legs fall open even wider and you tilt your hips up to meet him. He growls in a way that reminds you of the bear inside him, and the thought only makes you wetter.

“Make me come for you, bear,” you moan. “Please, I want to come for you- I want your tongue buried inside me when I do, I want to taste myself on you when I kiss you while you fuck me. Please- Halsin, please-”

You can feel him shake with the strain of keeping his human shape, but his tongue is stroking your clit in just the right way and you can’t stop the litany of filth that falls from your lips.

“Just like that, my love- oh gods, oh- oh, fuck, fuck, do that again… again- have mercy, you’re too good at this, my love. D-don’t ever listen to me when I tell you to stop, I want you to keep doing this f- oh- forever, I never want to…”

Halsin does not hide how much he is enjoying himself. His fingers are digging into your soft flesh with bruising force, and he moans and growls unashamedly as he eats you out like a man starved. 

The moans that fall from your lips, the filthy noises it produces when he runs his tongue through the wetness of your cunt- everything echoes in the small cave and makes you feel the sensations thousandfold. Halsin’s eyes fly open when you gently tug at his hair, quietly asking for more. He obliges, his nose pressing against your clit as he fucks you with his tongue, large hands keeping you right where he wants you, squeezing and holding. He takes no breaks, like he needs not air but only you to survive, and the coil in your belly starts to tighten with each stroke of his tongue.

“Let me hear you,” he breathes, barely raising his face from between your legs. “Let me hear you, my heart, tell me what feels good.”

“You feel good,” you whimper, your head light with pleasure. “It’s like you can tell- like you know exactly what I need. Halsin- H- fuck, oh gods, right there, you- mh- you are so good to me, so good to me… I wanna come on your tongue, my love, please let me- please make me- gods, I want everything with you, I want to be filled until I can’t move, I want your bruises on my thighs and to have you inside me all day and all n-night - fuck - to be yours and only yours, my bear, my bear Halsin-”

His growl this time is distinctly animalistic, and when you open your eyes, Halsin’s whole body is coated in golden light, glowing from the inside out, his eyes illuminating your skin.

“You will be my ruin, angel,” he groans. “Your words will make me come undone before you even touch me- to taste you, to be the reason of your ecstasy is all I have wanted for so long. Come for me, my heart, be good and come for me so I can fill you the way you deserve to be filled, be yours and- make you mine, just as nature intended.”

His mouth descends onto you again, licking and sucking, his tongue pressing against you in a way that makes lightning run through your body. You cry out and buck your hips, and Halsin repeats the movement, over and over and over until you are right at the edge of pure bliss.

“For me,” he groans into you, his voice making your whole body vibrate. “For me, come for me, little flower.”

He closes his lips around your clit and sucks, and in an explosion of ecstasy, you are done for faster than you can warn him.

“Bear, I'm going to- f-fuck- don’t st- Halsin!”

The pleasure sweeps you off your feet. Nothing could have prepared you for an orgasm like this - sudden and all-encompassing, so intense it nearly borders on pain as you arch your hips and curl your fingers into Halsin’s hair. His tongue laps at you, drinking in every last drop of you until your legs shake uncontrollably and you are begging him to stop.

When you manage to open your eyes and unclasp your hands from the sheets, Halsin is grinning up at you mischievously, his face wet with you, his eyes still glowing as he licks his lips.

“The sweetest honey I have ever tasted.” He laps at your cunt again and you shudder. A new wave of arousal buries you at the feeling of his tongue inside you as he looks up at you. 

“You-” your voice is barely more than a breath. “You are incredible, my love, do you know that? Fuck- oh, don’t- please, it’s so much-”

Halsin pulls back, a smile still wrinkling the corners of his eyes.

“I thought you never wanted me to stop, my heart.”

In the time it takes you to wring an answer from your blissed out brain, a new coil has already begun to form deep in your belly at the mere thought of being touched by him once more. Your brain stumbles over the words, and while Halsin is not touching you, the promise of More hangs so heavy in the air it’s enough to make you shake with anticipation.

Halsin’s voice breaks the fog that has settled on your mind.

“Are you lost for words, little flower? Already?”

“D-don’t tease me,” you breathe shakily. “You know your skill well-”

“Hmm, I’ve had centuries to practise. Your body is… a miracle. As if nature intended you for me, all this time.”

Halsin sits up between your legs, kissing your thighs. You stretch out your arms to him.

“Come here, my love. Let me kiss you.”

“No hardship for me,” he laughs, pushing himself up on the bed and settling against you. “You did so well for me, my heart. You are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen and your voice moaning my name is the most exquisite song nature has ever devised.”

Your cheeks flush with heat, and you bite your lip. You can feel his hard length pressing against your thigh, yet here he is, singing your praises without expecting anything in return.

“You are too good to me,” you sigh. “And yet here I am, still wanting more.”

Halsin cocks his head, mischief sparkling in his eyes.

“More?”

“Mmhm.”

When he bends down to kiss you, you half expect a gentle kiss and the promise of more some other time, but you are wrong. His lips are searing, and when he pulls back, his eyes are pure fire, his fingers claws as he rips them from your body.

“Please.” You are begging - you are pleading. Nothing in the world could make you want to stop in this moment. “Go on, my love. I want to feel you- I want to have you inside me, and I want to make you feel good the way you did for me.”

Halsin growls and twitches, hands slamming down on either side of your head, his large body hovering above you.

“Once I start, I might- what if I can't stop?” He sounds nearly afraid. “It’s been so long, my heart. Have you any idea the way my blood burns at the mere thought of getting to fill you, getting to make you mine?”

You stroke his face.

“I trust you,” you whisper. You run your hand down the expanse of his back, feeling the muscles ripple under your touch as sparks of wild magic dance across Halsin’s body. “If I ask you to stop, you will. Though… I can’t imagine I would ever want you to.”

The groan that escapes from his throat sounds almost pained. Halsin buries his face in the crook of your neck, lowering himself down until you can feel his cock drag against your soaked cunt when he moves.

“Fuck,” you whisper. “Fuck- bear, please… please.”

A shiver runs through him at the urgency in your voice.

“Ask me again,” he groans, hips bucking into you, his arms shaking. You loop your hands around his neck and pull him down to you until your lips nearly touch.

“Fuck me,” you say, quiet but firmly. “...please, bear. Halsin-”

The breath is punched from your lungs when he kisses you, his lips searing, panting and moaning into the kiss as he rocks into you.

His hand slips between your bodies, two fingers dipping inside you and the glow in his eyes intensifies.

“My heart- you are one of nature’s great wonders. You feel-” he breaks off as his fingers press deeper and you arch your back to meet his movement.

He fucks you open slowly, patiently - first two fingers, thicker than three of your own, and when you whine and plead and beg for more; he gives you three. You sigh and whimper, calling out his name between sounds of pleasure. 

Halsin knows exactly what you need - what your body needs. His fingers curl just right, and the smile on his face is one of pure joy. He watches as you lose yourself in the feeling of him, as you grind down your hips to somehow take more, as your hands grip the sheets until your knuckles pale. He praises you through it, his voice soft and gentle and full of awe.

You are not a god, but you have never felt more worshipped.

It’s a lot - so much you have to hold back tears of pleasure. Halsin slows for a moment, noticing your tension, but you beg him to go on and he obliges, his motions smooth and assured.

“The stars pale in comparison to your beauty,” he whispers, kissing your shoulder, your jaw, your face, while his hands never stop moving. “Nature has made you immaculate, has made you its boldest creation, the crown jewel of its heavenly bodies. To have you here with me… to get to feel you around me and see your face shine with the pleasure I can bring you- it’s more than I deserve, more than I ever thought I would get.”

His words make your heart stumble, but your body gives you no break to respond as your legs start to shake and the heat in your belly nearly explodes. You are shaking all over, your mind just as desperate as your body. Halsin’s fingers inside you make you feel so full already, and the way he looks at you makes you tremble with affection.

The hard length of his cock presses against your thigh once more when he shifts. Nothing in Halsin’s face betrays how painfully hard he must be- how desperate he must be for release. You want to feel him- you have to feel him inside you, you want to know what it is like- you want to see his face blossom with the same bliss he brings you, and the thought of that brings you to the edge again.

“Halsin-” you breathe, gripping his biceps with an iron grip, writhing beneath him. “Halsin- my love- please, if you keep doing this, I’m going to-”

“Good.” His brow is shining with sweat, and the expression on his face is something between hunger and bliss. “Good. Because I want more.”

Your head is foggy with pleasure, but that notion parts the veil around you for a moment.

“More?” Your voice sounds brittle next to his deep baritone. “Then-”

“Mhhm.” he hums, working his fingers deeper, grinding down against the bed. “More. Give me one more and I’ll have you, my heart. Just as it was intended, just one more is all I need…”

Your head falls back as you cry out, your legs starting to shake. He curls his fingers just so, and stars flicker through your vision.

“Don’t stop,” you pant. “Don't- anything, my love, I’ll do anything- just d-don’t stop, please, please I want to feel you, I want to know- I have to know what it is like to be full with you…”

Halsin grunts, curling his fingers again and again as soft lips kiss your jaw, your neck, your breasts.

“Then come for me,” he commands gently. “You can do that, can’t you? Let me be greedy just this once…”

That nearly does you in. After all that, he still thinks himself greedy for wanting to bring you pleasure?

“Fuck!” Your blissed out brain has such a way with words. “Fuck, bear- I’m gonna-”

The palm of his hand presses against your cunt as he sinks his fingers impossibly deeper, and then, all at once, you are done for. You can feel yourself gush, wetness dripping from Halsin’s fingers as you die a thousand little deaths of ecstasy, your mind exploding into bolts of lightning.

Vaguely, you perceive Halsin’s calm voice talking, speaking to you as if through a cloud. 

After a few moments, you realise it is not only you he is speaking to. He is calming himself down, willing the bear to stay dormant. Your walls flutter weakly, and when you open your eyes, Halsin is smiling down at you.

“You did so well for me, little flower. Never have my eyes seen anything more beautiful than you, and I doubt they ever will again.”

You blink slowly, trying to ground yourself back in reality. When you move, you hear the sound his fingers make when they glide out of you, and heat rises in your cheeks. He has given you so much, and yet all you want is…

“More?”

Halsin’s smile lights up the room.

“You, my heart, are insatiable.” He kisses you, his lips soft on yours, his tongue greedy in your mouth. “I’m glad you are- so am I.”

⋆༻༺⋆༺༻⋆••●••⋆༺༻⋆༻༺ ⋆

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[libidomechanica]

My cunningest firmly to subdue the keyes of rock, here our

Nor Valiant, whose least with me; or     where’er can tell. Flesh. But the cunning part, ioying there where the     plate. Of what cometh dumb;

the floor. And her wind, who have I     plyght out of myself on the deep, has not yet I have riddle,     Fame there my Prisoner

bought up true. Washed wight myrie fit for     thing the loved that Nature’s my love you and oaks as a blank;     it me, and translate thy

pangs and multitude of the winter     like that mere has desolate: now also were strong     impression, and People, and

eek smoke, perfume from the man wole,     er any kin, as now that I do, wherefore ever     happen to my chambre

of Venus me yeven the sky     was a lusty oon, to reden on this cunning as     desolate and yellow fog

that hunted so, to whom groan, more     purple pass’d forms that dost not remember that the city,     guess about a liquid

glassful throne whereto I strive     to heere thy hair behind the chiefe Pernassus be, the same—     because that months in balls

and pea! Thou art fair one? My     cunningest firmly to subdue the keyes of rock, here our soft     and lighte he hands with yvel

preef! Know before evening; shamed     to been breath no less learned for something but die it like     a wife to cut to shewe.

In the sands of housbonde—God his     book, right, nor that he would them all; who plead for common like     thee stands upon the mark

the pomegranate are twinkle     home, my love. Last love them— sometimes anger, and I know loud,     nor can divide my head

away. Was the exactly     ascertain’d in a day. At they though your particularly     sets him an’ wrack him whom

earth below, but sith a sigh, she     lay dying in thy love me eek of what sworn to go seken     halwes, and told a

tree but if it kind of faith, too—     filled with flowers fellow, and again. Work hard, have punished     on the birds sing. There watching

stories out of his badge, most     above his shield, while I stood as the eye hath that creepe, as     taker knows how, but mine

heart’s shop is holde in white limb into     his part, to injury, revenge upon the keepe, which     heavily he is most

jolly. I can see thou like a     Statue make it, for, by my fears not be dead shal nat lyen,     of Hercules to wood?

[auntmaryjo-blog-blog]

January 24, 1964

Time has crept up on me and I have neglected my diary as a result. Meant to record our 13th anniversary date which was remembered by Kaye and Darlene, who sent cards; Karen, who telephoned, and Mother & Dad, who gifted us with a pecan tree. I had Eagleson's Nursery send out another tree because I felt the yard would be better balanced with two. Of course this unbalanced my budget to the tune of $8.00. I'm hoping to reimburse the bank by winning a TV Bingo Game. You have to cover all the numbers when you play and once I just needed 2 more numbers to fill out my card when they called time. I'll probably make more money buying record albums at the Village Record Shop where they not only give you a dollar off the record but a free ticket to the Village Theatre. Latest antic of Macs has been his imitation of our barking. Of course we have to imitate a bark ourselves in order to start him off which led Mother to say that Mac had succeeded in turning us into dogs. He puts his head back and bays or croons for us. Saw a delightful comedy-mystery entitled "Charade" on Tuesday starring Audrey Hepburn and Cary Grant. Wednesday was telephone day for I heard from Freda Halwe [?spelling] and Dee Hamiter and I called Robyna myself. Freda was trying to get into the VA Hospital again and wanted me to come to her Random House to pick up some books I had loaned to her. Random House is a beatniks paradise since Freda is so inventive. She has papered the walls with magazine illustrations and has put canvas under a roof leak with a rubber hose leading from the canvas to a foil covered bucket which she has inscribed "just a cottage small by a waterfall." Lee and I went to Mother and Dad's for a round of bridge (our Friday usual) and I played some hands badly but then I've got a one track mind and can't remember what I should instead I remember things I shouldn't. Mrs. Booth called today to ask my "expert" help in composing a letter to Groves City Council requesting consideration in the apportioning of insurance business. When I called her back and read my masterpiece she was so complimentary that I wish there was a market for composing business letters for firms as I believe I could qualify.

[hiljametsa]

Halwen

verb - to hallow, make holy. from OE halgian.

---

Ic halwe, thou halwest, he halweth, we halwíeth. Ic halwed, thou halwedest, he halwed, we halweden.

thou hast yhalwed

[benbrecht]

Groen is groen en aartappel is wit

Vandag moes hy weer ʼn draai in die dorp gaan maak het: vuurhoutjies, melk, boerewors en Creme Soda. Hy het sy grys, lang baard gekam en vasgemaak, sy lapsak met die borduurwerk gegryp en gestap. Alles wat hy aanhet, is ʼn skakering van kakie/bruin/aarde: Die blokkies geborduur op sy skouersak is die enigste kleurryke dinge. Dit is op ʼn manier vir hom terapeuties-gerusstellend om sy paar goedjies, wat in hierdie skouersak sal pas, by dieselfde kleinhandelaar te kom koop. Hy glimlag vir die enkele mense wat self deur die rakke soek. Al kan ander mense sê hy bly onnodiglik op hierdie stofdorp waar hierdie winkel waarskynlik die spil is waarom alles draai, het hy ʼn rustigheid in sy hart. Hy moes leer dat ander mense nie aanspraak daarop kan maak om vir ander voor te sê waar jou vrede behoort te lê nie. Terwyl hy bietjie by ʼn rak talm, is daar ʼn jongman met ʼn flaminkbroek en ʼn pienk hemp wat vir hom kyk en hy kan nie anders as om te dink aan ʼn paar jaar gelede toe jy hom ook nie in kakie sou sien nie.

Dit was nie ʼn kort pad om tot hier te kom nie. Daar was tye toe hy nie gedink het hy sou of wou sestig maak nie. Vir baie lank het hy die innerlike rustigheid waarmee hy natuurlik geïdentifiseer het, verwyt: Hy wou ook die opwindende lewens van sy portuurgenote lei, maar dit het hom altyd later ingehaal om te probeer wees wat hy net nie was nie. Die selfverwyt het konstant opgewel elke keer na hy probeer inpas waar hy duidelik nie gehoort het nie en die geleentheid misgeloop het om werklik iewers te behoort. Deesdae is hy gelukkig in die vlaktes met sy katte, ganse en die ketel wat gereed staan ingeval iemand ʼn draai wil maak by die Boekapteek.

Hy het nie ʼn selfvertroue wat noodwendig vir hom geld maak of aansien genereer nie, maar ʼn stil selfvertroue wat oor jare bymekaargeskraap is. Selfvertroue wat hy kon saampers uit die aanhoudende pogings om ʼn betekenisvolle bestaan te voer. ʼn Tipe selfvertroue wat hy gewoonlik na intense selfrefleksie oor gebeure en interaksies kon distilleer en sy eie maak. Daar was ʼn tyd toe hy gewonder het of selfvertroue ʼn inherente mensereg of gawe is. Dit was een ding waarop hy wel soms jaloers kon raak: hoe mense onbeskaamd propvol selfvertroue kon wees, asof dit hulle geboortereg is om net nie oor goed te twyfel nie. Dit was eers mettertyd wat hy stelselmatig begin besef het mense steek twyfel, onsekerheid en vermyding bitterlik goed en effektief agter foto’s en soetsappige sêgoed weg.

Daar is kere wat hy ʼn bak feta koop, ʼn halwe wiel een keer in ʼn slaai gebruik, dit in die yskas los om te verval, en dan weggooi – net om hom aan sy ma te herinner. Ander kere eet hy te min soggens en dan ooreet hy hom so liggies deur die loop van die dag aan happies in plaas daarvan om vir hom ʼn vullende bord kos voor te berei – net om hom aan sy pa te herinner. Dit is sulke dinge wat hy koester en wat niemand ooit hoef te verstaan nie.

My een-ding-red-dalk-‘n-duisend vir vandag is om Moncrieff se The sun is shining somewhere te gaan luister.

[gwydionmisha]

From Geoffrey Chaucer, Canterbury Tales

Whan that Aprille with his shoures soote, The droghte of March hath perced to the roote, And bathed every veyne in swich licóur Of which vertú engendred is the flour; Whan Zephirus eek with his swete breeth Inspired hath in every holt and heeth The tendre croppes, and the yonge sonne Hath in the Ram his halfe cours y-ronne, And smale foweles maken melodye, That slepen al the nyght with open ye, So priketh hem Natúre in hir corages, Thanne longen folk to goon on pilgrimages, And palmeres for to seken straunge strondes, To ferne halwes, kowthe in sondry londes; And specially, from every shires ende Of Engelond, to Caunterbury they wende, The hooly blisful martir for to seke, That hem hath holpen whan that they were seeke.

[hello-delicious-tea]

It’s poetry month! April, very popular in poems. Here’s ol’ Geoff Chaucer:

Whan that Aprille with his shoures soote,

The droghte of March hath perced to the roote,

And bathed every veyne in swich licóur

Of which vertú engendred is the flour;

Whan Zephirus eek with his swete breeth

Inspired hath in every holt and heeth

The tendre croppes, and the yonge sonne

Hath in the Ram his halfe cours y-ronne,

And smale foweles maken melodye,

That slepen al the nyght with open ye,

So priketh hem Natúre in hir corages,

Thanne longen folk to goon on pilgrimages,

And palmeres for to seken straunge strondes,

To ferne halwes, kowthe in sondry londes;

And specially, from every shires ende

Of Engelond, to Caunterbury they wende,

The hooly blisful martir for to seke,

That hem hath holpen whan that they were seeke.

[easyvegrecipes]

Gajar Ka Halwa Recipe | carrot halwa telugu | how to make gajar ka halw...