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He shook his head, confused. What is a name?
Little wee Johann of Elendhaven?
Things with names didn’t turn up cracked and ground against the rocky shoreline. Things with names survived. He would be a Thing with a name.
He cultivated a persona with the dedicated fervour of a character actor: a practised charm that appeared natural, a crooked smile, an easy laugh, spider-leg fingers that snapped and threaded through the air as he spoke. The role became so lived-in and claustrophobic that the effort required to peel back the skin was not worth the reveal. He never took his gloves off.
that any thinking person is only a breath away from an animal.
“Well,” he said aloud. “That was fucked up.”
Monster was the best, his favourite word.
Johann first saw Florian Leickenbloom
Florian Leickenbloom did not think himself a creature made by mortal intent. He was like Johann, one of the Black Moon’s monsters.
So what’s the prognosis, sweetheart?”
Gay?
a musty bin of plaid frocks and skirts (child sized), four boxes with the letters FLORA scrawled on them, and a covered painting with a cloth nailed firmly to the frame.
TRANS???
who might have been mistaken for a woman from behind.
Johann liked this look on Florian: playful and cruel.
He towered over Florian and asked in a low voice, “Cinnamon-sugar, duckling-sweet, my little honey-flower … what is it, exactly, that you want?”
Okay flirty flirty
Otherwise, she was Florian’s perfect mirror.
Oop
Johann had to clutch a hand to his throat to keep the flash of affection that rocked through him caged in his esophagus where it belonged.
No one would expect that boyish half smile, that nervous wringing of the wrist, to conceal a monster. Monster, Monster, Monster, Johann said to himself, the first half a kiss, the second a hiss.
GAY AS SHIT
Johann eased them apart salaciously, stroking his thumb down the long curve of the upper thigh. Florian caught his little jest—Johann made sure of it.
Y’all get a fucking room
As far as Johann knew he’d been in that cocoon for fifteen years, waiting to emerge as something terrible and lovely.
and he watched every single puffed-up noble at the table down their drinks. As soon as the champagne passed their lips, Florian’s polite mask fell away.
I’m going to show you what the plague does. I’ve several strains to test, and just as many willing test subjects.”
His hands were shaking and blue at the tips, numb and clumsy from too much sorcery.
They feared that the Leickenblooms were harbouring a magical child, a monster who would unleash a plague on them. Here you are.”
He didn’t pull away when Johann tried to kiss him this time—he opened his mouth under it. Johann bit into him, devoured him. Florian hooked a hand around his neck and fumbled the other one into his pocket as Johann slipped his long fingers beneath one knee and hiked him up onto the worktable.
I love these messy queers
It was not the first time he’d watched a body disappear like that.
Who would pat his head and tell him that he did good. Like a dog, heh. Johann licked the last of Florian’s taste out of his mouth and kicked open the door to Ansley’s drawing room.
Okay gaslight
Unwise to dream of death in a world where someone has the power to make those dreams come true.”
imagined himself and Florian sinking beneath the mud so that it filled their mouths and their eyes. Such a thing would not kill Johann, but it might be nice to stay that way for a while—until the spring came to melt the top layer of frost-glaze and flowers grew from Florian’s rib cage. A wedding, of sorts.
In A Week by Hozier looks different here
And when our work is done, I will carry him to the bottom of the sea, where we both belong. Deep beneath the silt our bones will turn to salt.
Toxic yaoi goes crazy
His mouth was dry. Stripped of his artifice, he sounded young. What the fuck.
“Why should I? It’s not as if you’re ever going to tell me no.”
He literally created him so
She was shards of black and red against the horizon as she raised her pistol and fired.
OH?
But I know better: magic is not in the brain, miss; it is in the bones. I would sooner die.”
“A homunculus of some sort,” Kanya answered, voice steady with the surety of absolute faith. “You’re born of his blood, and controlled by it. When he dies, so will you.”
DWARF IN THE FLASK
“A hallankind exists to make its master’s dreams come true. S-so go forth … and do that.…”
