Hus of Crow

Month: November 2026

This Is Tending

By

On November 6, 2026

In Healing

Pulled under, the sky turns dark overhead. Sound slows in my eardrums until silence. My body shivers every so often, releasing the traumatic software left in me, glitched and twitching.

This is tending.

I want to be here and see the damage. I don’t want to be here and reexperience it. He kisses me. His breath warm on my skin as he reminds me that I’m not lost. I’m in his hands.

Fragments of fear, grief, worry, hope, betrayal. Hope. Hope hurts most. Unrequited hope. I gather these little stars into my chest, holding them close.

I answer hope. Violence breaks away.

A hero to myself.

Loki’s safekeeping and guidance deliver me gently to land.

My grateful tears soak the bedsheets. Old longings met in his space.

My body self-corrects where once there was brutality and abandonment. Now there is his love, and there is my willingness to be loved,

fearlessly receptive.

Opening to Fire

By

On November 4, 2026

In Healing

“The flame flickers and wraps in its own self, unaware of its light,” he says.

I open to Loki’s fire, peering into the exposed voidance of my wounds. I cry until mucus trails from my nose with the tears. My body heats up and reminds me I was badly burned and scarred through an abuse of power.

I learned temperance of my own flame.

Desire flashes, and my heart reddens, lit by Loki’s name on my tongue, down my throat, swallowed in tears of devotion.

And I realize the consequences of not burning at all. Of not opening to him or myself, or to love. The drought that left me a husk of myself and tried to claim me just as violently. Either way I turned, there was devastation. Loki returns me to myself.

I can trust myself.

Planted

By

On November 3, 2026

In Wildness

“I lay in the soil, planted. Pine needles pricked

and forest sediment

imprinted with me.

Leaves and sticks in my hair.

I loved pulling them out later in the mirror. My grin and shining secret eyes. The best intimacy I’ve ever experienced came from my own exploring nature in nature,” I confess to him, interpreting myself in the process.

“Where there is wood, your heart follows,” Loki teases.

“Where there is freedom to just be.”

“I’m that freedom to you?” he asks.

“Yes. You disrupt chains, and I feel free in that space where no one else wants to be. Most people don’t want to be naked in the woods. They fear getting caught or the practicality of it. You catch me, you make the impractical bits the fun part.”

“I’m the fun? I love that.” He smiles with me.

“You are the fun inviting me to be the fun too.”

Remaking Intimacy

By

On November 2, 2026

In Healing

“My introduction to my own sensuality was the Kama Sutra. I soaked up the rituals of relationship and mating,” I tell Loki as we walk through my memory together.

“There was one section about making a sort of love sachet from scented wax and flower petals, and another about the male growing specific nails longer to pinch half-moon marks on his beloved. I thought that was the most romantic thing I’d ever consumed. I immediately pinched half-moons on my hand, as described in the text. It was a ritual for lovers separated by distance, and I used it to close the distance between myself and my own sensuality.”

I realize this under Loki’s supervision.

Together, we watch my younger self enact the ritual.

“A lot of sensation in that canonical text,” Loki acknowledges.

“Yes. The sensations to be had were gorgeously detailed.

I chewed mint leaves to discover the moment right before kissing for myself.

I remade intimacy then, creating a different experience of it than I’d previously known.”

I watch her with him as she picks up the pieces of heartbreak, one instruction at a time.

“Magic comes from the self.” His words wrap me in new confidence.

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