Hus of Crow

Category: Wildness

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.”

The Trouble Is the Best Part

By

On October 30, 2026

In Wildness

I pull my dress skirt, dragging the hem through the dust of the unfinished house where he and I meet.

“I love how you dress easily naked.” Loki teases and toys with the laces of my corset that I left untied. I blush from his notice and attention.

“I don’t want sex. I want everything else. The undress, the mess, the romance, the sky overhead and inside me, the universe. I want my pale face shadowed and my lips swollen. The act of mating itself is pointless to me without the dance that surrounds it. Orgasming is a reaction, not a result. I hate the pettiness of looking towards results only.”

“You want to tip overflowing. Not to be emptied, but enjoyed. And why is this troubling to you?” he asks, tender mischief in his voice.

“It’s not. It is. It’s fucked up because it’s not the game or the sport. It’s the realness. Like when you sip your coffee, and I watch the devil detailed across your lips, and my heart can’t take it. Beautifully mundane and intricate.”

“You’re a poet, darling. That’s all. Nothing shameful in that.” His eyes flash.

“Yes, but there is, because the frustration is unnecessary and toilsome and also possibly immature of me to hold so much desire and not have an end plan.”

“You love the ordeal and appreciate confluences.”

“Yes. And the ordeal of just life, too. It is quite the ordeal, and I find it very attractive, hot and sensuous, like sizzling steak crusted in herbs. Why go through the trouble? Because the trouble is the best part.”

Loki makes the slightest hm sound of pleasure, and so do I.

“I love exploring my psychology with you.”

“I know, sweet girl. I love that you do.”

He Knows

By

On October 17, 2026

In Wildness

“We never seem to finish what we’ve started,” Loki says while pinning me playfully.

A long, wet lick up the side of my face.

I tremble with delight and terror.

“Oh, dear God, you know.” I realize.

“I do know.”

“I’m so screwed.”

“Yes,” Loki agrees.

Wearing Feathers

By

On September 30, 2026

In Wildness

“We’re wearing feathers today,” Loki clicks his tongue.

I’m black, silken, down and flight-made.

He nuzzles my beak with his own.

We preen.

The air delights my every feather, begs me to discover it and be discovered.

“Two ravens in a wood,” he says.

“A mated pair,” I finish.

Sprung Gorgeous

By

On September 22, 2026

In Devotion, Healing, Wildness

I become a bulb, pulling in the sunlight, minerals drawn down into my crown.

It feels pleasurable to hold and rest. Hold the sun. Hold the soil. Held and kept while holding, keeping layers of the sun. Full and heavy.

Asleep…

Stretching from the soil, bursting from my core, I am tendrils of green and stalk and flower bud. I breathe in the sky, ecstatic, alive. Light. Life. Sprinkle, fizzle, burst. A daffodil sprung gorgeous.

“I shapeshift,” Loki says, pollen dust shooting from his trumpet as I turn my golden-yellow face in shock and orgasm.

Loki’s song pick: “Return to Innocence” by Enigma.

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