#wip: between bramble and briar

[floriansfurryfantasies]

Inside World of Between Bramble & Briar

Here are the main settings of the tale; a glimpse into the world behind closed doors of Between Bramble & Briar.

The Sanctuary:~ A gothic themed nightclub, owned by Florian Voltaire. It makes use of a once derelict Romulan Chapel in the city of Dornbury.

Florian restored some of the religious architectural features, such as the stained glass windows, feeling it would've been a shame for their beauty to be lost. He adores the flamboyant stone work and tiled floors and feels that the space feels most alive and fulfilling of its purpose when people have gathered there. However, now they gather for music and a good time rather than to worship Romulus.

Stanley House:~ A stately home built around 200 years ago–in an age gone by. The lavious property sits on the outskirts of Briarbury, village, nestled in the hills of Dorndale County.

A long gravel driveway twists and winds through a coppice of oak, ash, and alder trees and circles the front of house fountain. The surrounding gardens are kept in fine fettle by a retired vole, Mr Waterdown, from the village. So Florian is never without a pristine and floral view from his sunroom and all the windows of his home.

Stanley House was purchased some 30 years ago by his father when Arthur was an infant and retitled the house in his families name.

Today, Arthur still resides at the property and holds dear the fond memories he has of his childhood there and a time when his mother was happy and well.

Once up in a time, he'd hoped to furnish it with a lady of the house and a litter of kits who could build their own fond memories, but he fears that dream has passed him by.

Downey Cottage:~ A quaint cottage in the middle of the sleepy hamlet; Hedgely Woodhouse. Surrounded by a well planted cottage garden, Mrs Blackthorn grows vegetables and herbs, as well as a hedgerow of berried shrubs. Along the west wall of the garden, she grows flowers in raised beds. The family often enjoys sunny afternoons on the little paito there. The lawn is flanked by a wilf flower meadow and a few established fruit trees that provide shade and their fruit come harvest season.

The inside of the home is just as lovely. The kitchen and heart of the home always smells of homemade delights, and the range keeps the house warm come winter. The cosy living room is host to an open fire, a small television, couch, Mr Blackthorns reading chair, and Mrs Blackthorns rocking chair, where she sits to knit and sew.

Upstairs are four bedrooms that were once shared by the seven Blackthorn children, while Ermine and Ada Blackthorn shared the master bathroom.

The Blackthorns home is the apiteny of what a family home would look and feel like. The walls are adorned with family portraits, and Mrs Blackthorn wouldn't be without her trinkets and Mr Blackthorn without his piano and books.

Tag list:~ @caxycreations

Let me know if you'd like to be on the BBB tag list, too.

[notyourmamasdeerbat]

WIP Wednesday!

Happy Wednesday, my dears! Thank you @hedwigoprah for the tag, I admit to scrounging around a bit for what to share because I too have kind of been in a brain rain dryspell. I have this layout for Chapter 5 of Carry the Dagger? I guess? It's a long one, and an irritated one. Rocks were thrown and yes, Solas-es were harmed in the making of this video. So. CW: Egg?

“You have no idea what you have done.” The voice pierced the darkness, cold and forbidding, echoing all around them. Rook wobbled, head fuzzy as the crumbling landscape swam into focus. The place was cosmic. Massive and uneven, spirals of ancient stone drifting on the horizon as if through currents of a massive ocean. “Solas…?” They jerked at an echoing footstep with a sharp inhale, and there he was, arms folded behind him, maybe ten steps away.  “You– fucking–!” Rook hit the dirt, scrambling to snatch up a hunk of colorless stone, and they hurled it at the mage as hard as they could.  It arced, distance expanding, and plummeted into the chasm that suddenly yawned between them.  Solas’ lip curled, disdain written across his angular features.  “You bald, lying, cheating, irresponsible, tiny di–” Rook took a breath, shoulders heaving as they curled their hands into fists, dizzy from a head rush and the shifting landscape. “I know what I did! And I’d do it again! Wipe that stupid look off your face, I stopped you from destroying the world.”  “I was not destroying the world!” He insisted, shouting, his brows furrowing with agony, voice raw with frustration. His voice carried power here, rattling Rook’s bones. “When you disrupted my ritual,” he snarled, all sharp canines and wrinkled nose. “The magical energies pulled me here, into the Fade.”  “Not my fucking problem, pal,” Rook tossed back, jabbing a trembling finger. “Your physical body is unconscious,” Solas retorted, in a tone that suggested Rook would be wise to listen. “But you shed a few drops of blood at the ritual site. Enough to form a tenuous connection.”  “Blood magic?” Rook reared back, reeling, wishing for nothing more in all the world than to vault the stone hands and blackened ravine and rip his fucking ears off.  “Firstly, I abhor the use of blood magic–” he thundered, scowling. “ –Secondly,” came his voice from behind them, out of reach. “Had I the power to control you, I would have already used it.”  Rook whirled, eyes wide and accusatory as his shadow crested the twisting brambles and stone steps disorientingly in what had been their blindspot. Their heart was pounding in their chest. Fear. Real fear. They slashed a hand through the air. “Don't do that.”  Solas scoffed. “You yet live. Can you not comprehend what this is?”   Rook ground their teeth, tone thick with the disgust that boiled in their belly. “You hurt Varric. I can’t believe you.” Solas’ expression faltered. The barest flicker of hesitation. Of guilt. 

POV: An old trickster god that your ex boss and coworkers were very familiar with and your new boss actually was coworkers with addresses you for the first time and first thing you do is try to bash his skull in with a ghost rock. Just Dragon Age things. also this!

“This is it.” “Oh.” Lucanis frowned, hands on hips as he examined the first gate– the path between the Fade’s mountainous formations overgrown with interlocking briars as thick as grown men, its center locked by a steel bound brass socket, carved with ancient glyphs. “The glyphs are in ancient elvhen. I can read pieces of it, pick out certain words, but the rest is gibberish to me. Bellara says it could be a poem, or the spoken incantation that brought this thing into being– but it’s both Blight and blood magic. And lots of it.” Rook tapped their foot, craning their neck to scowl up at the monstrous barrier. The Crossroads teemed with life around them, chattering wisps drifting along in herds through the air. One whizzed by Rook’s head before jerking to a halt and giving Lucanis a wide berth.

Next stop, Minrathous! Before the Bad Times! :D They are waiting on Neve, who overslept a little. She's working on a case that definitely probably won't be relevant later. Trust me. Don't look over here. [slides in front of my massive threaded theory board that is mostly just badly drawn doodles of all the companions with hearts everywhere] Anyway. WAM BAM GET TAGGED

@emmieloumay @the-bear-and-his-sunbird @andthekitchensinkao3 @draco-illius-noctis @velvet-apricots @fenrelmercar

[floriansfurryfantasies]

Between Bramble & Briar. Home for Yule ~ Part One. (SFW)

AUTHOR NOTE: This episode is a cute, cosy, and SFW (a smidge suggestive, in parts) glimpse into the Blackthorn's traditional Yuletide family festivities.

WORD COUNT: 2400 approx

TAGLIST: @caxycreations

Let me know if you'd like to be added to BBB's tag list.

Over the crackled, charcoal surface of the Yule log, amber flames flickered. Beneath, the ember glowed. The fire burned, slowly consuming the feast of its fat log. Downey Cottage would be kept warm and cosy throughout this, the longest night.

This time of year was truly one for feasting. Ada Blackthorn had spent four months stowing away Yuletide provisions in her pantry, as she did every year until the time was right to spend three days preparing her traditional feast. The shortest day of the year was one in which the Blackthorn's spent the most time eating. From pies and nut roasts to cakes, biscuits and buns, platters of crackers, conserves, and cheese, the sideboard in the kitchen was laden with many delicious treats. Ermine's part to play began in the cellar in late August when he'd harvested all the fruit and barley he required to make his meads and wines. This annual tradition usually ended with the old mouse, drunk and singing himself to sleep in his armchair, come dawn after he'd shared all the fables and tales he could muster.

Taking after his found father, with a full belly and what remained of his mulled wine in hand, Arthur retired to the Blackthorn's couch.

The nest of some two dozen merry mice had left their abode to watch the Battle of the Holly and Oak Kings—as was tradition. It was being reenacted in a little coppice of trees on the way out of the hamlet toward his own village: Briarbury. Furfolk from four villages around gathered to watch as the moon hung high in the mid-winter sky. All bundled up and full of food and cheer, glad that the rebirth of the sun was upon them. But tonight, Arthur didn't plan to join in. Although, it was a given that he'd been invited to share in their festivities, yet he could never escape being the odd one out.

Downing the last mouthful of his mulled wine, he found it cool and less pleasant, but it couldn't put a dampener on an otherwise pleasant day.

At ten o'clock, he'd pulled into Briarbury train station from Dornbury. He always closed The Sanctuary during Yuletide. From there, it was a short walk home to change his clothes and shed his "Florian" facade. Then, another walk, only a few minutes more, into Hedgley Woodhouse to Downey Cottage. Beneath his feet, a dusting of snow chilled his paws, but the scarf about his neck kept the wind from biting. He anticipated that the Blackthorn's home would be as scorching as July. The range would have been on all the day prior and perhaps even through the night. Ermine would have already stoked the fire in the living room, ready to receive the Yule log, not to mention the number of bodies bustling about the home.

And he was right; the place was heaving! All the Blackthorn siblings, their spouses and their children had arrived. He could have sworn there were more pups every year!

Letting himself in through the front door, he ducked inside and was immediately hit by an overload of stimuli: the chatter and laughter, the smell of home cooking, and the heat. It was the same every year, and every year, it filled his heart with gladness to be a part of it all. This was true family life. This was his secret dream, and each Yule, he got to immerse himself in the illusion that it was his own.

"Aup, Art! S'good to see you. Keeping well?" A familiar face greeted, thrusting a warm furless paw into his and giving it as hearty a shake as a five-foot mouse could muster. It was one of the Blackthorn brothers. Weaving his way down the hall, he was met with a warm welcome from every mouse he came across and stripped of his coat and scarf by the mice that felt like kin.

"Make yourself at home."

"Mam! Artie is 'ere!" Someone called toward the kitchen.

"How goes business then?" A mouse asked, pulling his pipe from his lips and allowing a plume of smoke to float from his snout.

"Dad has outdone himself with the mead this year, mate. Here, get some down ya." A pint of brown was put into his hand.

"I heard there was some nasty business in Dornbury—"

"—Oh, damned rats causing trouble again, is it?"

"Wouldn't surprise me."

"Did you hear about it, Artie?"

"Go on, get on wi'ya! Leave the poor lad be!" Ada's usually gentle voice barked through the cacophony when she appeared in the hallway. Although she stood barely four feet tall, the portly and bonny-looking mouse was the Queen of her castle. She had raised a nest of mouse pups—five boys as wild and roving as brambles and a dear daughter, too. She wasn't to be messed with—a maternal veteran with a heart of gold and nerves of steel. Once she'd wiped her dainty paws on her floral pinny, she reached for Arthur's arm and pulled him to her. She didn't have to ask; he knew the drill and leaned down so she could brush her fingers through the trim of his cheek fur and give him a kiss. "Lovely to have you home, sweetheart." Her smile plumped her rosy cheeks as she spoke.

"Sorry, chaps, I'll catch you later." Arthur looked back apologetically, though internally glad of the rescue. He was led through a passage under the stairs, past the cellar door, and down a step into the kitchen.

"Oft, what a rabble." Ada tittered, rolling her blackberry eyes. "I've got a Bramley pie in here with your name on it, love. I've been batting them off like flies all morning."

Arthur laughed. Mrs Blackthorn always let him have the first slice, as it was his favourite flavour. That warm feeling he adored, dare he call it motherly love, filled his chest.

"Ad—"

"Ah ah! Less of that young man." She wouldn't abide him calling her by her given name.

"Mam— he corrected, his ears folded bashfully, "—but it's not even lunchtime yet."

"Suit yourself. But I can't keep them off it much longer. It'll be gone by lunch and cold, too, if you don't tuck in now."

The heat gathered the closer they got to the range. Now, standing on the kitchen's terracotta tiles, the chill in his paws had thawed completely. He scrunched his toes into his pads, enjoying how the numbness melted into toasty warmth.

Most of the family's women were gathered around the kitchen table. Their chatter was lilting and choral. Upon the lap of one sister sat a pretty little pup. Her single curl tied in a crimson bow between the dishlike ears she had years to grow into. The pretty broadie anglaise frills of her frock matched in colour. She was indeed a beauty. Her beady eyes peered at him through the crowd of her kin like ripe damsons. Perhaps he was the first ferret she had ever seen, but the sweet little thing wasn't frightened of how he towered over her aunts; instead, she beamed, grinning with only her two front teeth to show for it. Her fixation on him turned a few heads, and a new wave of welcome began.

"Aw Arthur, it's good to see you love."

He was beckoned to sit at the table and nudged along by Mrs Blackthorn, who presented him with a fat slice of Bramley pie accompanied by a mountain of whipped cream.

"Ya' keeping well?" Someone asked, rubbing his back to warm him to the seat he'd found.

"That big city is being kind, I hope." His mead was pushed aside the moment he set it down. A cup and saucer took its place, and from over the table, one of the sisters poured him a cup of tea from the pot that had been steeping. Another sister added a spoonful of sugar, and then another furnished his saucer with an oat and raisin biscuit that neared the size of the saucer itself.

"Oh, yes, especially with all that ratty business that's been in the paper."

"We don't have to talk about that, do we?" The mother of the pup scowled as she handed her baby over. Without question, Arthur took hold of the infant and smiled down at her as she began to coo.

"Isn't she a beauty?" A familiar voice chirped from behind. Searching for a face, he found her to his right—Lillie Blackthorn, the youngest of the Blackthorn siblings, though she was by no means the baby of the family anymore. She was a woman now—he wished he hadn't noticed. Usually, Lillie would have stood a foot below his shoulder, but as he was sitting, they were about the same height. Her treacle-coloured eyes glistened as they caught the cool winter sunlight pouring in through the window, and they warmed it. Her smile was warmer still.

"Uh, yes, a beauty. I think I'm in love."

"With a mouse?" A few of the women giggled in unison.

"What're you like, Arthur? You're so funny." They shook their heads at the comedy.

"He'd be potty not to fall for our little Lottie." The mother cooed as she tapped the twitchy pink nose of her pup. "Isn't that right, sweetheart?"

"She is absolutely adorable." Lillie joined in the giggling but couldn't deflect Arthur from noticing how her ears twitched backwards before she centred herself. For a while, he'd been wondering what all the little mannerisms, one-second displays of disappointment, crest falleness, and sorrow summed up to mean. He hoped he was reading her wrong. His assumption, if proven, would be devastating.

Pulling up a stool, Lillie wedged herself between one of her sisters and Arthur and stole the biscuit from his saucer without a care. It looked like she was fine, after all. There's no need for him to worry... Or so he thought...

"You know, not everyone Mates their own kind these days," Lillie announced.

"Being at that University is going to your head, girl." Her sister yoinked at her ear. Their disapproval was real but gently spoken, with concern, love, and a little bit of comedy to help it go down.

"You'll think differently when you meet the right mouse." Another said.

Arthur kept quiet, now four spoonfuls into the Bramley pie. He licked the tart-tasting, jammy juices from his lips and sipped his tea. It washed it all down quite pleasantly.

"And before you know it, you're married and have a pup on the way."

"What if I have kits instead?" Lillie asked nonchalantly, rhetorically, as she tickled her niece's chin.

Amidst the chorus of cackles, as if she had cracked the century's funniest joke, Arthur felt a tail slip over the top of his thigh beneath the table. It came from his right-hand side, which meant it was Lillie's. As if her comment hadn't been enough, a tightness took over his hips, and his tail bolted straight as the bushy tip of hers flicked further into his inner thigh. It was all too much! It caused the last mouthful of his tea to burble back up his throat and ensnared him, sending him into a coughing fit and spluttering into a closed fist, unable to keep any composure. Wide and bewildered, his eyes found Lillie, who grinned deviously. Her treacle eyes had darkened salaciously as she peered at him through her lashes. It was only for a second, but he couldn't mistake the desire in them. Then, her nose twitched, and like a switch had been flipped, a musical thrill of innocent girlish giggles came from her.

"It's just a thought. Things are different in the city. You see all sorts."

"Well, never you mind what happens in the city. The city isn't for girls like you, my Lil' Liza." Ada's hand found her daughter's shoulder as she placed a slice of pie before her and kissed the back of her ear lovingly. "You get your education and come right on home to where you belong. Tommy isn't going to wait forever."

Thomas Barlstep—Lillie's ex-boyfriend. A barley field mouse and son of Ermine's Skittles club and school pal, Frances Barlstep. Tommy was held in high regard by the Blackthorn's. He was an ol' country boy, a hard-working barley farmer like his father. He lived up to his family name and was a sunny sort of fellow, if not a bit simple. But he was kind and seemed a fit husband for their precious youngest daughter, who they thought needed her wild taming—a bumpkin would do just right.

The conversation erupted into how sweet Tommy was, how good a match he was, and how impressive his show of strength at that year's summer fate was. While her mother and sisters were distracted, Arthur noticed how Lillie sighed. How she toyed with her food rather than attempt to eat even a spoonful and the biscuit she'd pinched lay on the table missing only two bites.

"I've brought you a present." Arthur leant down to whisper near her ear as he laid his paw over the brush of her tail, which was still on his thigh.

Her closest ear flicked back to home in on his voice, and a moment later, her eyes found his. "Me too. It's in Dad's study." Lillie grinned, the inners of her ears flushing pinker. Meanwhile, her tail coiled over his fingers in an embrace. "Let's sneak out."

Arthur clutched onto her tail a bit tighter to dissuade her from leaving her seat just yet. "I've not finished my pie, and neither have you."

Although he could tell she really wanted to roll her eyes, instead, she resigned and enthusiastically dug a fork into the crust and finished Arthur's tea while she was at it. Lapping the fruity filling from her lips and dusting the crumbs from her snout, her lashes fluttered over her eyes as she looked up at Arthur to see if he was finally satisfied enough to leave.

"Come on, before Vince gets here and whisks you away." Lillie's whispy tail eagerly coiled Arthur's wrist as she rose from the table to lead him away.

There was no way his leaving could be discreet. As he stood, he towered above the table and its occupants, the tips of his ears only an inch shy of the overhead beams.

"Where are you two off to?" Ada asked, though not accusatory or suspicious, just curious.

"We've got some books to share," Arthur explained with a simple smile.

"It's for school, Mammy."

"Alright, sweetheart. If you see your father, tell him there's a slice of pie for him in here."

[floriansfurryfantasies]

Between Bramble & Briar. Home for Yule ~ Part Three. (NSFW)

AUTHOR NOTE: In continuation of part two, some quick decisions are made that lead to (mild) spicy consequences.

WORD COUNT: 2500 approx

TAGLIST: @caxycreations

Let me know if you'd like to be added to BBB's tag list.

At noon, everyone was called to gather around the kitchen table for the feasting to begin. There were no courses planned and no order as to what should be consumed and when. It was a free-for-all. Mrs Blackthorn laid all the food out on her kitchen's sideboards and down the centre of the table, and everyone picked at whatever they wanted. The feasting lasted hours. The unorganised meal was littered with table games, private conversations, and rowdy group discussions, and the many children wandering to and from the garden to eat, then play and then eat some more. The atmosphere was both cosy and claustrophobic, chaotic, and a little overstimulating. Still, if one sat back a moment and watched the happenings around them, it was simply a happy family gathering.

Wedged between Vince and one of his brothers, Topher, Arthur had been whisked away just as Lillie had anticipated. From what she could see from her seat, further down and across the table, he appeared to be having a lovely time. She had been seated next to Pippa and baby Charlotte. It seemed like her mother's strategy to woo her toward family life. Ada was eager to get her youngest daughter married off.

On her lap sat the book Arthur had gifted her. Now and then, she would stroke the cover sentimentally, recalling the moment they'd both unwrapped their gifts to discover they'd brought each other the same book. Vince hadn't seen the hilarity of the situation; he just thought it was dumb, but to Lillie, it demonstrated how well they knew each other and how well-suited they were. Pity, then, that not one of her family members would agree.

Through the many hours of feasting, Lillie found herself staring in Arthur's direction. From a few seats away, at the end of the table, her father would loudly clear his throat or make a booming statement that would distract her from her daydreaming. The way Ermine's brows would arrange behind his spectacles let her know that he was onto her and that her behaviour wasn't appropriate.

One evening, the summer gone, the rain came down out of nowhere and trapped Lillie in the house all of her weekend visit. Having had enough of baking scones with her mother, Lillie retreated to the peace of her father's study. Curled up by the window, he'd found her daydreaming. Slipping into the room, Ermine collected his smoking pipe from the mantle and went about repacking it with fresh tobacco. "Are you alright, Lillipad?"

"Yes, Daddy. Just wanted a bit of quiet."

"Hmm, it's always nice and quiet in here." It was true that little of the house's noise disturbed this backroom of the cottage. Little noise escaped it, either. It had something to do with the daubing on the walls. "Arthur's in the kitchen." He announced, peeping at her from over the golden rim of his spectacles.

"Oh." Lillie felt her father's expectant eyes on her and willed herself to remain seated. "Uh, that's nice. Is Vince with him?"

"You needn't bother with all the effort to look nonchalant, my dear. You're as clear as a dewdrop."

Lillie's ears blushed, and Ermine lit up his pipe and sighed.

"First love, eh? Such an intoxicating, wicked business."

"It is?"

"Oh yes, my sweet girl. Like summer it is. Scorching and all too short in date." This was all her father said. Sage words. A warning, she felt. Then, he left the study and Lillie to her thoughts.

Now, sitting at the kitchen table surrounded by her family in mid-winter, Lillie understood what her father meant. Even the thought of Arthur left her feverish.

***

Outdoors, the breeze was biting. Despite her jumper, coat and scarf, it wasn't enough to keep the chill from creeping up her paws and tail and making her bones rattle. A wander to Briarbury followed Feasting to watch the Yule play. Downey Cottage was almost empty, with all her family bundled up and trundling down the lane. Lillie lingered back, waiting for Arthur to turn out. She hoped she'd get to walk with him for a while, but he never showed. Despite being surrounded by happy chit-chat and some dozen mice, Lillie walked alone, lollygagging behind.

They were just past the Fir Stump, a rough halfway point when Ermine glanced back and noticed his little Lillipad appeared to have a rain cloud looming over her head. It was then that he made a choice. A choice similar to the one his mother made for him when he was besotted with a certain squirrel at the tender age of eighteen.

"Cold, isn't it? I'd say you've got a few hours of summer left to cherish." He said, glancing at his watch. "I'll suggest everyone get some toffee apples and a mulled wine at 'The Nut Horn' before we come home. That'll top the festivities off a treat."

Lillie kissed her father's cheek and took off back down the lane towards home as fast as her legs could carry her. Her red scarf billowing behind her. She unravelled it from her neck and unbuttoned her coat before even getting through the front gate. ***

After a short trip to the kitchen to fill up his pot with a fresh, pipping ladle of mulled wine, Arthur retreated into the parlour again to savour it, along with the tart he'd picked off what remained of the feasting spread.

Cosied down amongst the couch cushions and throw blankets, he sighed, content, warm and relaxed. He'd shed his blazer and unbuttoned his shirt a way, made warm enough by the fire. The Yule log flickered in full flame; the crackles and pops it made were comforting music to the ear. His mulled wine went down a treat, and the tart was devoured all too soon, he thought, lapping his lips and sucking the tart's jam from his finger pads.

For the first time in hours, Downey Cottage was quiet. Arthur's head lolled backwards, eyes closed, basking in the firelight and the peace and quiet. That was until he heard the front door clunk closed. His eyes flew open to check the clock on the mantle. Had he fallen asleep? Had time passed him unnoticed? Surely, the Yule Play wasn't over yet? It wasn't even gone seven. What was odder still was the lack of hustle and bustle that followed. Nothing made sense until a flustered and rosy-cheeked Lillie arrived in the parlour.

"Hello," he greeted.

"'Ello," she panted, the rise and fall of her chest erratic, causing her bust to gape the buttoned closure of her dress.

"Did you forget something?" Arthur asked, shifting as if he were about to sit up.

She stopped him. In a flurry of motion, Lillie bounded over the room and pressed him back into the couch with her whole body as she hopped into his lap. "Not exactly."

Stunned, Arthur's body bolted ridged, his fingers clawing into the surrounding cushions to fight the urge to coil his arms around her. "W–what's going on, L–lillie?"

"Summer is short," she said, boldly combing her paws into the fur about his neck. It had thickened in Autumn in preparation for this season's chill.

"Wha—?"

"There's no time to explain. Artie, just kiss me!" Lillie demanded. Her fingers kneaded into his neck, combing through his fur to his jaw; she tugged him nearer. Her touch felt as desperate as her words and the yearning that set her eyes alight—the treacle turned amber in the glow from the Yule log. How the firelight backlit the delicate flesh of her ears gave the illusion that she was haloed twice over.

"Lillie, I… We can't..."

"Please," Lillie whimpered, pleading despite his hesitation. Her forehead came to rest against his as she stared into his eyes. "Unless... you really, really don't want to. Oh, please say you want to. I don't know what I'll do if you say you don't." Brushing her cheek against his in a bid to be closer to him, she mewled, "Please, Arthur. I'm so frightened of how I feel."

Her words burned because he knew what that felt like—that torturous feeling of fearing what your heart needed. But even more, he was terrified she feared him as he sometimes feared the object of his desires.

"Lillie, no. You never have to fear me." He freed his vice-like grasp from the cushion and took hold of her face. "I would never ever hurt you," he assured, staring deep into her eyes.

"Then, please... please kiss me?"

"I can't. It'll only end up hurting you."

"I'd rather live wounded than regret not even trying." Lillie held her ground. Her tone was utterly serious.

With her pretty face in his hands, dwarfing her, he realised he was holding the most precious person in his life. That was enough to sway him. Coxing her closer, he pressed his lips to hers.

"Mmmm." Lillie moaned into his lips, but it just wasn't enough. "Mm-more." She managed and opened her mouth, inviting him into it.

There was no point in retreating now. Arthur reciprocated. Their noses grazed one another's as he tipped her head to the side to savour the sensation. Meeting her more than halfway by making a move to devour her. His tongue reached for hers. This new intimacy broke the boundaries of their years of friendship.

The apple pie she'd eaten last left a sweet tartness behind, and combined with how he tasted of bitter wine and spicy cloves, their kiss was delicious. But more than that, the tender lapping of his tongue, along with the possessive hold of his lips and paws, was enough to send Lillie reeling. Delirious and dizzied, her thumb and index finger idly massaged into his ear's lowest, fluffiest part.

"Ngh, Lillie," Arthur groaned as she straddled his thighs, kneeling for more leverage to push him further back into the couch; her need to be closer took over her body.

From between his legs, his tail curled toward her—the plush tip pressed into her lower back, bringing her the rest of the way toward him. In reaction, her tail coiled his like in a mating ceremony. It was alarmingly intimate but deliciously suggestive, and it signalled to Arthur that she didn't mean to stop at kissing as much as what she did next. Cheered on, she ground her hips down his torso to plant hers firmly against his. There, Lillie discovered that the racing pace of his heart wasn't just palpable through his chest. Despite the clothing between them, she felt the burden and strain his arousal was putting on the front of his trousers. Her cheeky smile peeled back her lips from Arthur's, and the giggle that fluttered up her throat clued him into what she'd realised. She was just pleased that he seemed to like kissing her.

"Don't get any ideas, Lillie..." He muttered against her lips. "You only asked for a kiss."

"What if I want more?" she panted, pulling herself back an inch or two to better assess the look on Arthur's face. It was worth breaking their kiss to see the sight of him—through the pale fur of his cheeks, Arthur was flushed, and his eyes looked utterly sultry in how heavy his lids drooped. Truly, the heat of their kiss had left him feverish. He was buzzed from the mulled wine, but now he felt drunk on Lilli, too. And for a ferret as seasoned as himself, it was almost embarrassing how quickly she'd flustered him and with no more than a kiss.

"You'll have to—"

Unwilling to stop, Lillie ran her fingers into the soft fur of his ears, gently grasped them, and rubbed her fingers into his velvety lobes. Arthur arched back his head, his eyes fluttering closed, as he sighed.

"—wait..."

"You sure you want me to stop? You look like you're enjoying it." Lillie teased and ventured southward, down his jaw and neck, combing her fingers into his fur until she met his skin.

"Hmmm, Lil—"

When she arrived at his collarbones, she switched up her tactics because she hit the cloth of his shirt; she raked her nails down the firm pad of his chest.

"Ah!" Arthur's moan was revealing, as was how his nipples tented in the cream cotton of his shirt. At the sound, Lillie grinned and giggled deviously. Arthur's ruby-red eyes shot open, his head bolting from the couch to meet her gaze. How could she know how rarely he'd been touched with such intimate tenderness? But now, perhaps she had an inkling that he didn't just like it soft and gentle. It was mortifying. "I… Uh..." He stuttered.

"Liked it," Lillie confirmed and wiggled her hips; she'd felt him twitching even from within his sheath, underwear and trousers. "I want you to like it. I want you to like me. To want me, Arthur, like I want you."

"Do you know what you're saying?"

"Of course I do. I'm not a child anymore." Retracting her hands from his chest, she unbuttoned her dress one by one. "Shall I show you?" she asked, recalling how he'd ogled her underwear earlier, she was eager to show him what she looked like in such a garment.

"Ngh," he groaned, his brows furrowing, tormented. "Don't. Please, don't..." His hand reached to stop her. "I won't be able to stop. And this? It's already gotten out of hand. I already don't know how I'm going to get over this. How I'm going to live with it."

Arthur's begging tone was painful to hear but only convinced her of his true affection. She couldn't understand his fighting it, but how the flames of the fire reflecting off his eyes grew blurrier as they welled with tears moved her. She took his cheeks into her dainty paws and begged in return.

"Please don't cry, Artie; I want to make you happy."

"You do make me happy, but this... it'll make us miserable in the end. And that hurt will drive a wedge between us, and I'll lose you. I don't want to lose you, Lillie."

"I... I'm not going anywhere. Okay? I'll stop." Now, she fought back her own tears and tried to speak despite how her lips threatened to quiver. "Just one last time?" Gingerly, she ventured another kiss. A sweet one. An almost goodbye. "There. Done. No more." She nodded, but her tears betrayed her, trickled free from her eyes, and stained her fur wet. "Can we cuddle for a bit?"

Arthur welcomed her into his arms, assuming it'd be the first and last time. He coiled himself around her tightly, and being so much larger than her had never felt more useful. His arms cradled her body to his with such ease, his hand grasping her shoulder and his thumb still able to reach her cheek, where he stroked her tears away. Their tails remained intertwined, and he stroked the tip of his soothingly over her lower back.

As Lillie nuzzled into the fur of Arthur's neck, she breathed in his scent, which she'd long adored. It brought back many happy memories; this one would be added to the archive of her mind, however bittersweet. She wasn't sure she'd ever get over the rejection. The deep, thrumming rhythm of passion had subsided and dulled to a sad march that ached.

[floriansfurryfantasies]

The Outside World of Between Bramble & Briar.

On a continent, much like Europe, on an island country, much like Britain, is a county of rolling hills and dales. Home to settlements shrouded in a seemingly endless woodland, there live the Rohesian people of Between Bramble & Briar.

GEOGRAPHICAL SETTING

Country:~ Isle of Rohese ~"isle of the rose"

County:~ Dorndale ~"valley of thorns."

Cities:~

Dornbury, "borough of thorns.

Where the Rivers, Dourwent, and Swell converge sits the towering factory that runs the city's largest industry, the backbone of the county's wealth, Brusherby's Nutmill.

The location of Florian's Club: The Sanctuary.

Haeggham, "home of the hedge people."

The location of Lillie's University. An hour from Dornbury by train.

Towns & Villages:~

Swellford: a riverside town where a large weekly market is held. Many gather there to enjoy shopping, the tranquil riverside walk and quaint restaurants and cafés.

Malton: the town from which Arthur's mother hails. Home to the county's largest Malthouse and Mill, Burton Malthouse.

Briarbury: the village where Arthur's family home, Stanley House, stands. Its reputation is somewhat upper-class nowadays. Arthur still lives there. He takes the train home from the city. It's a short walk into Hedgley Woodhouse.

Hedgley Woodhouse: the hamlet where the Blackthorns live in Downey Cottage. The place Arthur would truly call home.

ROHESIAN CULTURE

Faith:~

Only in the last century was the Romulan Church disbanded in Rohese. Most clergy have fled, most returning to the Holy City of Albion. The rejection of the Romulan faith was enacted by the people's revolt and later sanctioned by the Parliament in reaction to the discovery of the Church's financial extortion of the Isle and Bank.

Elder folk have slowly reignited faith in Woden, Frig, etc, and now that new generations are aware of old beliefs, what has been named the Ageless Church has taken hold of youth culture. Those who practise the old faith honour nature instead of the previously worshipped Wolf, Romulus, Prophet of the Romulan Church.

Currency:~

Six centuries ago, the Romulan Church brought their Latini currency from Albion and gently converted the Rohesian market until the Sacer became the Isle's currency.

The Church's monetary scandal has since brought about a currency reform and the reminting of Shilli (Scillingas/Gold Shillings) and Coppar's (Copper pennies), the previous currency of the Isle. Paper money is simply called 'notes'. They are generally called "fivers" and "tenners." Twenty Shilli notes aren't used much by the general public.

Cuisine:~ 

Although spices are not commonplace on Rohese, wild herbs and sea salt are used as seasonings in native recipes. Due to livestock not being farmed, meat is rarely eaten, and if so, only on special occasions. However, fish, mushrooms, eggs, vegetables, berries and native fruit (apples, plums, pears, etc.), grains and nuts, their milk and cheese (and sometimes dairy products) are part of a standard Rohesian diet. Bread and Potatoes are considered staple foods.

Language:~

Although the story is written in Modern English, a dialect similar to Olde English and Welsh would be more prevalent in how Roh-folk speaks. However, as is to be expected, the Latin of the Romulan Church has influenced people's language.

Industry & Technology:~

Industry on Rohese is generally coal or hydro-powered. Trains, trams, and buses are the most prevalent forms of transport.

Few own cars, and as such, the market never really took off. Automobiles remain quite simplistic pieces of engineering (think: 1900s era)

Cellphones and computers have yet to be invented. House phones and public telephone boxes are standard ways to communicate outside the postal service.

Tag list:~ @caxycreations

Let me know if you'd like to be on the BBB tag list too.

[floriansfurryfantasies]

Between Bramble & Briar. Home for Yule ~ Part Two. (SFW)

AUTHOR NOTE: A continuation of part one. Still, SFW, but things get tense and suggestive.

WORD COUNT: 1800 approx

TAGLIST: @caxycreations

Let me know if you'd like to be added to BBB's tag list.

Arthur followed Lillie out of the kitchen and ducked through the understairs passage. As much as he loved the quaint cottage, there were a few doorways and passages that were hazardous for someone of his stature. With hunched shoulders, he paused. The cellar door was open, and from out of it protruded a bottom—one bearing the wispy, greying tail brush of Ermine Blackthorn. He hoisted a crate of clinky wine bottles up the last few steps. Between huffing and puffing, he hummed a cheery, folky tune to himself. With one final heave-ho, he plonked the crate onto the floor and stood upright, dusting off his paws. "That should about do it." He assured himself.

"Ah, Dad, there you are. Mammy said to tell you there's pie in the kitchen."

"Bless my soul, Lillipad; you snuck up on your old man good and proper." He put a paw over his heart and turned, clocking the ferret. "Ah, Arthur, my boy, you snuck in, too, eh? I didn't know you were here."

"Yuletide Blessings Mr Blackthorn."

"Oh, Mr Blackthorn, is it? My father has been dead some seasons now, my lad. Dad will do." Ermine set his paws onto Arthur's arm, patting it as he passed them by, obviously on the way to the kitchen to get himself that bite of pie. 

Over his circular spectacles, he spotted how his daughter's tail was coiled about the ferret's wrist. All he had to do was clear his throat, and her grip slipped free obediently. "Don't be letting your mother see any of that." He counselled under his breath, adjusted his spectacles and wandered away. "You kids be off now. There's a game of "tagtail" going on in the parlour. You mind those boys don't cheat." He wagged a finger into the air and contentedly hummed his tune into the kitchen.

Arthur and Lillie shared a look of consolement now that the coast was clear; they both felt to have been told off. Distractedly, Lillie's eyes drifted away from his eyes, causing Arthur to reach for his ears, wondering if that was what she was looking at. A prickle caught the back of his hand. Hanging in the passageway was a kissing ball wound out of holly, mistletoe and ivy. The second he'd clocked it, he was taken aback. His focus flitted between the green foliage, white berries and Lillie's treacle eyes—they were sticky and bewitching.

"You've been lingering an awfully long time under that kissing ball, Artie. Are you wishing for a kiss?"

"What?" Arthur flushed all the way from his cheeks up to his ears; he hoped his fur and the low light would disguise it. "N-no, of course not."

"Another time then," Lillie whipped around, dropping the subject with a swish of her tail. Or so he thought. Just as he was about to follow along, she turned on the pads of her dainty feet, closed in, hooked her finger over his collar, and tugged some. "Pity, though. But because there isn't a stool here, you'd have to—" Lillie softly, sulturly whispered, "—lean down to reach me." 

The tugging on his collar, however light, was coercion enough for him to lean down to her height. Looming in dangerous proximity to her lips, her breath tickling his nose, Arthur couldn't help but close his eyes submissively. A ruckus from the parlour spoiled the moment. The tension on his collar vanished.

"I thought you were really going to just then." Lillie teased. 

Blinking, coming too, Arthur wasn't sure if he would have kissed her. Perhaps he'd have let her kiss him. Meanwhile, Lillie had pitter-pattered away and was waiting with her paw coiling the doorknob of the study.

Inside was Ermine's treasure trove of ancient volumes, many no longer in print but all harbouring that fusty, bookish scent. The light that trickled in through the room's small window was barely enough to allow sight, for ivy vines hindered it. Still, it set an ambience suited for relaxation. Ermine would sit, chuff his pipe, and read by the light of his desk lamp. 

Arthur knew the room well and paid no mind to it. Instead, he watched Lillie rummage around in her travel bag. It seemed she couldn't remember which pocket she had stowed his gift in. By the twittering noises she was making, he felt she was getting nervous that she'd forgotten to pack it. He imagined how her nose would be twitching in displeasure. Her brows furrowed, perhaps even nibbling her lip anxiously. Her nose was getting nearer and nearer to snuffling around inside. He could see how her ears had curled forward as she concentrated her search, which had now resulted in her taking clothing out of the bag—her grumbling intensified. "For Frig's sake, I know I put it in here…" 

"Is everything alright?" 

"Yes. Just… one minute." 

Arthur stepped closer despite how her paw had wafted at him, baying him to remain static and patient. Peering over her shoulder, he thought he might aid in her search, but his eyes couldn't help homing in on what she had removed from the bag. Atop the untidy pile of garments lay a delicate white lace brasserie. Behind his back, his paw grasped tighter around his wrist. He gulped. 

"Here it is! Silly me, it was in the front pocket." Lillie exclaimed, turning, suddenly confronted with Arthur's chest. "Oft—" 

"Sorry. I got too close." He mumbled, eventually tearing his eyes away to focus on Lillie's face, though not before she'd grasped what he'd been distracted by. 

"I–if you're so interested in my underwear, Artie, you might well be disappointed with your actual present." Her ears turned down, a deep blush creeping from her cheeks to her ears until they glowed rosy as crabapples.

"Nothing about you is disappointing. But me? Perhaps I am disappointing. I keep noticing things I shouldn't." 

"What kind of things do you keep noticing?" Lillie asked, her tone precariously balancing between innocent curiosity and playing coy. 

Despite how she had already bumped into his chest, Arthur hadn't backed up and met how she tilted her head upward to peer up at him with a slight bow of his—subconsciously testing the water, wondering how close he could get before she pushed him away. Even though he knew he shouldn't have been pushing his luck at all. "Just… how lovely you are." Arthur purred. 

"You think I'm lovely?" The brown paper she'd wrapped his gift in crinkled beneath the tight grip she had on it. She clung on, hoping, in vain, that the object would anchor her. It couldn't stop how her heart galloped erratically in her chest, though, or how that blood rush caused her cheeks and ears to burn, blushing brighter. Her mouth felt dry despite gulping down nerves.

"Always." Arthur's nose daringly brisked the perky, saucer-like lobe of her ear. The heat from it was enticing. And for a split second, the urge to nuzzle and nibble at it was irresistible. His tongue loitered at the opening of his mouth, tempted to send forth a lick.

At his touch, Lillie's ear deflected inward. Her head tipped shyly nearer her shoulder. Behind, her tail coiled, while Arthur's, as if it had a mind of its own, reached to brush the tip of his against the curve her tail made around her thigh. There, her fur was thinnest, and her reaction to the feel of his, plush and silky, made her "Mmm", a pleased sound. 

The orchid and patchouli scent she'd dabbed where her ear met her jaw and neck had warmed and wafted straight up his nose. The tease made him wonder what the rest of her hot spots smelled like. 

"Arthur… I…"

"Lillie, I think I'm going insane." 

"What?" Blinking, she met his eyes and discovered just how close his face had gotten. 

"You don't remember. I know you don't, but I can't get it out of my head." 

"What have I forgotten?" 

"You keep doing things that make me wonder…"

"Wonder what?"

"Things I shouldn't."

"Artie, you're not making any sense." Lillie's nose twitched like it did when she was upset. Arthur was just as het up. A deep furrow bisected his black brows, but it was the hopeless look in his eyes that made him look so lost.

"Right. It doesn't make any sense, but You. Kissed. Me." 

Then, it dawned on Lillie. She had kissed him. She hadn't forgotten. She'd sobered up considerably by the time she plucked up the courage to do it. Or maybe it was cowardice because she did it under the pretence that she wasn't in her right mind? Either way, it seemed to be torturing Arthur just the same. 

"I… I know." 

Arthur's burgundy eyes widened, his lips fell agape, and the doorknob creaked as it turned.

"Here is your gift." Lillie chirped, slicing the tension. She thrust the wrapped rectangular object toward him and put some space between them just as Vincent popped his head around the door. 

"Found ya'. Dad said y'were in 'ere," he said, joining them in the study. "What's this? Givin' secret gifts?" "No. Just normal ones." Lillie spat. Arthur was still processing what had just happened or almost happened, or maybe nothing happened at all, and he really was losing his mind. Before shedding the gift of its wrapping, he was aware that it was a book—a hardback, by the feel of it. "Thank you," he said, his voice so quiet that it remained private between them. Reaching into the inside pocket of his blazer, he removed Lillie's gift and presented it to her. "Happy Yule." 

"Thank you." She smiled sweetly and clutched the gift, precious by the virtue that it was from Arthur and clearly also a book, to her chest. 

"If this in't secret gift-giving, then where's mine?" Vince whined. 

"In the parlour with everyone else's," Lillie explained. 

"Then why in't Arthur's in there as well? Why is his special?"  

There was a sibling spat brewing. Arthur rolled his eyes. He quickly grew tired of how immature Vincent could be, but he was his best friend. "Because I—" Lillie began,

"Because I don't partake in your family's gift-giving. Because I'm not family," Arthur calmly interjected and produced a brown envelope from the same pocket as before. "And before you have some petty complaint about Lillie's present being bigger than yours, there's fifty shilli in that envelope. You're impossible to buy for, and I refuse to buy you booze." 

"Wasn't gonna complain, anyway." Vince's ears turned down, feeling foolish. "Cheers, mate."

"You're welcome. Now, are you going to explain what the devil you're wearing? You look like you fell into some old man's wardrobe." Arthur assessed his friend's attire; it was dawdy, to say the least, and practically reeked of mothballs.

"Mam always moans about how I dress. So I made an effort."

"An effort? Is that what you're calling it?" 

Lillie snorted, trying to contain a laugh.

"Not everyone's as flamboyant as you, Flora." Vince stuck out his tongue. 

[floriansfurryfantasies]

Greetings, and welcome to a blog dedicated to furry antics.

I've recently discovered my fascination with all things furry, so please don't take offence to my exploring and experimenting.

I intend to collect/reblog my favourite posts from my favourite furry writers and artists here on Tumblr. Expect some random follows and a slew of reblogs. Please take it as a compliment; I'm out to boost and support as many writers and artists as possible.

This will likely be a NSFW blog. So, Minors DNI. But it might also be cute and funny too, but definitely expect some slutty and smutty stuff, just the way I like it.

See you around.

My debut furry WIP:~

Between Bramble & Briar