Hushed Willows blu(m)enmond

maybe ftb after this post? we can continue or do another? up to you!

but his bones and heart certainly made him feel he was virtually passé, no matter virile he naturally was (though realistically he’d probably gag at the word like a child, the same way a curious percent of the english-speaking population finds the pronunciation of ‘moist’ an auditory slight).

she beckons him like a dog.

all his autonomous senses scream to—go! go! go!

all his natural senses coincided, though suggested to him the opposite direction.

he was going to regret this, he knew. but he approached her anyway, wanting to receive this boon in full.

every step the contrast between his crudely shaped airbrushed soft edges contrast with the sharpest, his chest lurched as if an unsteady hull. his snaggletooth lacerates his bottom lip as he crudely reaches for her neck, a scripted machine-language command truncated by years as a virgin mary rogue.

he didn’t want to comprehend his base attraction to her at all, feeling the grief [word] againsts the facets of his deep emotional impediments.

he just wanted to supplant her being with his until the morning light.