The lace undergarment almost tears under the sharp points of Pinkie's nails. He holds it up to the dim lighting of the storeroom, nose scrunching as his eyes study it. "Well, if he's gonna abandon you on your birthday you might as well spend his fucking money." Lace and satin, rows of perfume and scented …
Daffodil Wine [5/???]
He's nineteen. Smoke in the air. Music thudding in his ears, but still barely a whipser compared to his own thundering blood. Silk around his hips, long yellow scarves wrapped around his pale arms. The man before him. Only a bit older. Twenty-two. New to the city. Elven like his grandmother. Short and stout like …
In Your Mouth. In His Hands (Part Three)
The first thing Valera taught him was his inclination towards pain was not about his self-worth, or about what he deserved. Leonides never thought he needed it because his existence was so hateful. It only made him think of when he was younger, holding his hand over open flame until someone snatched him back. And now, …
In Your Mouth. In His Hands [Part Two]
Not as special as he once believed. Leonides scoffed. He wasn't special in those days. He'd been a fool and nothing more. Now, now he was so much more. An empire bowed to him. The balance of continent-wide alliances and peace weighed on his shoulders. He strode towards the crooked table. Pen and paper were …
In Your Mouth. In His Hands. [Part One]
"Don't stop," he moaned. He begged. "Oh, Saints. Please, don't stop." Sweat made it hard to hold onto Valera. Still, he tried. As his body rocked over his, his hands digging into his hips. The only anchor holding him to a broken world. Leonides threw his head back. His thighs were sore. His back ached …
Daffodil Wine [4/???]
Basil hated painting portraits. He hated them as much as he hated painting nature landscapes. Just what the world needed, another artist to capture some stranger's visage on a canvas. And how pretentious, for someone to commission a painting of their own face to hang on their wall. Pretentious and incredibly vain. But who was he …
Daffodil Wine [3/???]
“I think sex is art. How could it not be?” Basil stared down at the trembling liquid in his teacup. Pinkie always slammed the table as he spoke, as if he could only signify the power behind his words by actually making things shake. Tea Houses were going out of fashion. Still, it didn’t prevent …
An Of Rust and Gold Valentine’s Day short
This is a short I made because I'm a hopeless romantic, using two characters from my book Of Rust and Gold and likely takes place between the ending and the sequel. Not sure if this counts as a spoiler though? It's no secret that the characters involved end up together in the original book. Anyway, …
Daffodil Wine [2/??]
There was a child in the corner of the shop. Basil’s favorite corner, where Gill’s potted plants were overgrown and curled together to make a green fortress. Right before the shelves of pre-made salves and remedies for common ailments. They didn't get many children customers. None except for Wyn, an apprentice for the last wizardry …
Daffodil Wine [1/??]
It was noon when he woke. The curtains parted with a fury, sending in streams of sunlight that burned away at his eyelids. He groaned, rolling over to bury his head in his pillows but feeling nothing but the hardwood floor. The splintered wood poked at his cheeks, his fingers cracking around the dried paint …
Aliston. J Drake 