Bone Deep

horror & fantasy mutlimuse dragged out of the cellar by foxglove. 21+, read rules & bios.

[bonesofchaos]

// last shift toniiiiight

[dappermouth]

You were alive here — fearful and wild and beautiful.

[bonesofchaos]

Piercings: Tongue Cheek microdermal (double) on right. Septum (very small closed ring) 8mm ear gauges (xenomorph plugs, don't judge him Alien is his favourite movie franchise)

Tattoos: Apollo Belvedere on left side of his ribcage. Apollo is holding his full bow. A rat on the nape of his neck (dumb joke from uni after not enough sleep and too much booze how arts could be rearranged into rats. a few art students from his class got the same tattoo on the last day of term)

[saintsinstatic]

Nastka hadn’t moved when the cold reached for him.

Not immediately.

He felt it first as a theft rather than an attack, the warmth beneath his palm thinning and folding inward, not shattered, not punished, simply reclaimed. The air around Il’kiyo sharpened until it felt almost edible in its cruelty, and Nastka watched it happen without offense.

Not because he enjoyed discomfort.

But because he recognized the gesture for what it was.

Not refusal.

Territory.

His fingers remained there one breath longer than necessary::: not to insist, not to challenge, but because he was measuring something invisible. People thought touch belonged to closeness. Nastka had always thought touch belonged to reading.

Then he withdrew his hand. Not dramatically. Not obediently. As if the rules of the room had shifted and he had merely adapted. His smile arrived late.

Quiet.

The kind of smile that appeared when someone realized they had opened a book and found the author staring back from the margins. He looked at Il’kiyo for a moment longer. Then spoke beneath his breath.

“Bones cradled by foundations.”

The phrase rested there. Not repeated for understanding. Repeated because he liked how it sounded.

His head tilted. “That almost sounded tender.” No mockery. Worse. Curiosity.

Because Il’kiyo spoke of devouring and unwantedness and endings with the ease of someone describing weather, yet laughed brightly enough to shake frost loose from invisible rafters. Beautiful things often lied more elegantly than ugly ones. Nastka had always found elegance interesting.

His gaze drifted, not to teeth, not to scales, not to threat, but to intent. “You assume I came here to be the owner of yours” His expression softened. “You assume I came here to survive.”

A pause. Not for effect. Just enough for the room to notice.

His mouth curved. “Neither flatters me enough.” The cold remained. Or perhaps he had stopped pretending warmth mattered as proof of belonging. His eyes returned fully. “You decide whether something becomes wanted or eaten.”

A quiet breath.

Almost fond.“But confidence and hunger are cousins more often than people admit.”

His smile shifted. Older. Not kinder. Something remembered. “And I never asked for your service.” His eyes flickered briefly toward Il’kiyo’s mouth. Then back. Innocent. Intentional. “I asked for your attention.”

And there it was. Not conquest. Not comfort. Not permission. Attention.

Attention could be hospitality.

Attention could be warning.

Attention could be the first thin crack in ice before a lake discovered it had been carrying weight for too long.

Nastka gave a small shrug. “You can devour me for rudeness if you like.” His smile deepened. “But do not mistake standing in your cold for submission.”

His gaze lingered.

Then softened.

Because suddenly....

he remembered something.

His expression changed subtly. Not less amused. Just older.

“You know…” His voice lowered. “There’s an old Polish story.” Not dramatic. Not offered as wisdom. Just offered. “My grandmother used to tell it in winter, when the windows froze over and the house smelled of wax and boiled apples.”

His eyes unfocused for a moment. Then returned. “There was a man.” His mouth curved. “A collector of cold things. He wandered between villages during terrible winters offering bargains, warmth for names, silence for stories, snow for promises. People gave willingly. Because people always traded parts of themselves when frightened enough. But one winter he came to a village and found an old woman sitting outside her cottage with no fire lit. Not freezing. Not suffering. Simply sitting. Waiting. He laughed and asked why she stayed outside. And she told him... ‘Because winter is not cold unless you stand alone.’"

Nastka smiled faintly. Il’kiyo would probably hate that sentence. That made him enjoy it more.

“The collector found it absurd.So he offered her everything he offered everyone. Warmth. Protection. Endless snow. She refused. Said she had nothing worth taking. And when he asked why she stayed, she answered, ‘Because if I leave first, you’ll never learn that cold is easier when someone remains beside it.’”

Nastka looked at him then. Not as though expecting agreement. Not even reaction. Just sharing. His voice remained quiet.

“The collector hated that. Because men who survive through distance often hate being witnessed. Men who build themselves into storms dislike being told someone would sit in them willingly....“So he waited. Days. Weeks. Until eventually, he realized she wasn’t waiting for rescue. She was simply keeping him company. And when he left, he found his cloak heavier. Not with snow. With warmth stitched into the inside. His smile became quieter.

“My grandmother always ended it the same way.” His eyes stayed on Il’kiyo. “Never trust the one who offers protection in exchange for absence.” A pause. Then softer, almost amused.

“Because sooner or later, the one who stays without being asked becomes impossible to forget.”

His smile returned, not victorious. Just certain in a way that felt unreasonable.

Then he looked at Il’kiyo fully. “You think being kept means being owned.” His head tilted. “I think being kept means being chosen.”

A breath. Not theatrical. Not demanding. Just honest.

And perhaps that was the most dangerous thing Nastka had done all night: not touching him, not enduring the cold::: but looking at Il’kiyo and speaking as though he had already noticed something others missed.

“If you think permanence means imprisonment…”

His eyes softened.

“…you’ve never met someone who stayed because leaving became less interesting.”

A pause. His mouth curved faintly.

Then, almost idly, as though he were speaking about weather, or tea, or nothing at all, he added:

“I looked at you.”

His smile became smaller.

More dangerous.

“And thought…”

He let the silence become its own thing.

“…ah.”

His eyes remained steady.

“I think my town would become far more interesting if you stayed.”

Not because he wanted to own winter.

Not because he wished to survive it.

But because there was something beautiful about storms no one sat beside.

And Nastka had never been particularly afraid of getting snow in his hair.

[bonesofchaos]

He watches as the hand is removed and nods in silent thanks. It's one thing he's never got used to about humans, their need to be near. To reach out and touch. He understands of course, that they need it on a biological level, that at the heart of themselves, humans are social creatures who do well among others of their kind. That it releases all sorts of chemicals in their brains to make them function better. But he's not human, and serpents are different. For all that they have clans, it's a matter of safety and sharing territory rather than the need for ties. A solitary serpent does just as well as those who remain in a clan. Their touch is reserved for family and mates only, it's a level of intimacy they share with few and far between.

"You have it. For now." He offers his attention. Sits serpent still as Nastka speaks, heart slow and barely breathing as is his resting state. Watches, unblinking as he spins his tale, the words colouring the air around them, the wind taking notice and stilling at the window as it eavesdrops like it found a secret worth listening to. He thinks perhaps the wind it right, and it is worth listening to. His claws move over the tabletop in absent patterns, tracing the markings that sit along his back in truth. His clan markings, his title and never once does he interrupt or look away.

His voice ends and seems to linger. The shop is silent, holding her breath as if she knows something is about to happen she needs to pay attention to. Il'kiyo says nothing for a while, doesn't move save the etchings atop countertop. Flicks gaze from one eye to the next then down the length of him. Ponders the words, thinks of his own ideals and those of the ones around him for decades.

How he gave Maron his Blessing and he took it and saw it as a claim he could abuse. How he forces his love into every space between them and uses his Blessing as a leash, as though he is the one who is owed, instead of the other way around. He saved the swordsman and he gets his toxic adoration in return, greedy to the last breath as if he doesn't already carry a part of Il'kiyo with him always. He fears his dealings with Maron has warped his view of this species he holds affection for. Expects them all to be like his swordsman. Monopolising and jealous, no give in their love for him, each decision questioned and picked apart, every patron questioned and intimidated like he has the right.

Il'kiyo is a Prince, he is a warrior, he is a Master of his craft, centuries of learning under his scales and magic enough to level this town in a heartbeat and he has allowed his Blessed one to poison his view of those around him.

A sneer mars his usually beautiful face, an annoyed hiss, though the way his gaze drops he hopes it's enough to convey it's not for the one currently here. "Ah, I have grown complacent in my old age I fear." Claws push through his hair, coloured like his scales and hiding the feathers of his mantle tucked between strands. Il'kiyo stands, smaller than Nastka, frail and fragile looking, his robes slipping from shoulder to reveal scales trailing in silverite patterns. Steps around from behind his counter to put himself in front of the other, head tilted up to look upon him. A hand held out between them, ice and snow gathering in his palm, the wind curling around it like lazy feline, shaping it into perfect sphere of winter filigree. A peace offering, an apology for his presumptions.

"I'm Il'kiyo, the Dread Wind and Prince of the Icebound clan. I would know you Nastka, if you will allow it? I feel as though a warm winter would be acceptable if you sat beside me."

[nvrcmplt]

Like a dream, he was to be - whether they grasp it in their fingers or weave them through like sand and mist, he didn't mind. He settled with ease, ears open to the creature besides him ready to reveal the sorrow. His lips seal and lashes shut - ready for the tale of tales but when spoken of the Voirloup - even he, felt a sorrow in his blood. Though not his gift, they were a beauty to this world like pearls amongst the sands. "From what the old trees speak… A lot of sadness, a lot of bloodshed." A common trait amongst the powerful but they held whispers only the branches could remember. They, not like elephants, spoke with natures time but the flow of their own. Some take twenty years to remember one minute, others like sprouts, much faster but maybe not about the information you want to know about.

"Greatest of all hunters, swift like daggers through the roots. Though I've never seen a pack of them, nor one in their truest form, I've heard of their beauty and rarity. But… even then - they are vague. Like a hazy dream you can not figure out." Tail sways to a slow, attention given fully even those lashes were closed and brow furrow in little knowledge of this species. He wasn't to believe he knew even a percentage of what those creatures were like, but he knew of the name and that was enough to let him know he was going to be learning something new with this one beside him… and another, feathered and terrifying yet docile. He wasn't going to provide fingers with hopes of petting, but he did smile upon her arrival.

"Should I promise to speak of nothing spoken here, before we continue?"

[bonesofchaos]

It's true that there's not a lot of information on their species outside of their own numbers. They've gone out of their way over the years to ensure they're unknown, bare bone facts the only thing they'll offer up if they allow themselves to be found at all. Thierry is an outlier of his species, along with Solange, in that they mingle with others, interact with those outside pack and mate.

"You planning on running to the nearest government and spilling my secrets?" He turns his head enough to glance to the other then shakes his head. "Don't worry about it, it's not like I know anything of real worth." He's second generation and while the ancestor memory imprints mean he 'remembers' what happened to create his kind, he doesn't know the ins and out the way that Solange and his mother do.

Arm tightens around Mallory for a moment, raptor tucking her head under his chin in comfort. "We were made. You know how it is, someone always has to fuck about with stuff. They made us and they tried to make us loyal. They burned the moon out of us, so we couldn't hear her call anymore. But we were Selene's children long before they got their hands on us and she wouldn't let us go without a fight. Her light became a second heart, one we can... gift." A pause, a hand over his own off rhythm organ. "They tried to twist that too, made it so we could only mate with witches, pumped enough magic to end the world into us until it took, until it stayed. They used it like a tether, forced us to only mate with them and used it to control us."

His gaze hasn't moved away from the stars after that first brief glance and it stays up there now, looking at the moon high above and silent. "My instincts are... wrong, or right, up to you to decide. My magic did... something, rioted I guess? Can't mate with witches-" a vaguely hollow laughter that he bites off quickly, "-can't mate with anyone at this rate." Muttered and mumbled into Mallory's feathers, his tail still and ears pinned down into his hair. "It'd be easier if I listened to her. The bond isn't complete, wouldn't actually hurt me to reject it on my side too. Well, it would, but it'd be over quickly. Not like what happened to Solange..."

[bonesofchaos]

"You're not my echo, you're just my static."

[nvrcmplt]

Jasmine… oh, her lungs inhale deep and without shame. The favourite flora of this new world, roses, beautiful but their scent nothing compared to the Jasmine. Her cave was once riddled with the flora but as she needed more room, deeper tunnels, more space - she had to destroy them with great regrets. Due to the churning of earth and soil crust crumbled, her corrosive mana plagued the soil since and nothing else grew. Only her webbing, the silken straps that draped and swung in pearl string delights, but here, oh here, her legs dance in a manner of her back bouncing in delight. Her gaze crescents of giddiness upon the smell alone, the forest glanced and adored, the shadow here was much appreciated and with the travel barely tickling her sensitive hairs. Widow found no fault, even when she was offered a hand - her own lowered to take it. Placing her fingers over palm and resting a delicate weight of her presence with this beauty.

"You needn't apologise. Another time, Dearest, we can show our other forms when conversation lulls…" They had much to show her, at her request and their grace of acceptance. The Queen allowed her bulk to move with that guide, smiling wider and wider, as multi-eyed features shift and turn with ease to look upon everything on display. Mannequins were given the longest of stares… she knew not of their lack of movement to be a sign of safety, for she knew many, many puppeteers in the past that played her sensitivity to movement against her. Deeming them dead-creatures, hollow and no mana held within or around them to move as pleased, she neared them when shown the path. Through large and wide door, inhaling the scent of woven silks, the magic in some and the craftsmanship of others.

She lingered her free hand over a few fabrics, not to touch, dare she do so… but to just hover in delight. The colours were beautiful, naturally dyed as she could scent turmeric, a scent of fruit - though she couldn't tell the colour from that alone. The excitement of such a wonderful workshop had her fingers curving, cradling the hand of the Voirloup at her side and turning head with features near exploding with happiness. "You are a true weaver! Oh, how it delights this one." Solange was not fibbing or calling a hobby such a craft, but a true woman to her word. Hands were turned over and within it, her veiled features lower to her palms. "A gift… of trust and hopes of a forward friendship, Lady Solange." Mandibles shift from painted lips, jowls agape though hidden within the silken cover - but it doesn't shy away from the small white spider that was to be placed into their keep.

Raising her head and amplifying her mana over the two of them, she whispered words of her kind, chitters of a soft melody and within their clutches blossomed, diamond-skin spiders. "My most prized children." Three, sisters, that would grow no bigger but stand tall upon spindly legs and feel as heavy as common stones on pebbled paths. "My darlings, weave the finest of a diamond silk. A rare amongst rare of my children, I leave them with you and this workshop. Once a month - they spin their webs for collection. Feed them water and any crystal of your choosing." And before Solange could return them or admit to being unable to take them - Widow would only laugh. "They are too beautiful to be hidden within the cave… I wish for them to learn of Your world and weave beauty amongst skilled hands. Take it as a token of my friendship - a promise to never harm, to never fight, to never see you as an enemy of my kingdom."

As she let those words linger, Widow retreated without much more, twirling almost to step closer to a table and lean over to stare upon the looms current weaving. Oh, how her back legs bounced in delight… This world, no, this workshop was a haven for all things wondrous.

[bonesofchaos]

Solange watches her reactions with no small amount of pride shining upon her face. To hear her praise fills her with delight and she finds herself offering one of her rare smiles. Her hand squeezes gently the one still help in her own, pressing her gratitude between them. "Thank you. I started shortly after I was... made." And she was made, not born. She is a Frankenstein creature of magic and mutation, of torture and cruelty and mage madness. "I learned so that I could use it protect my family when I couldn't be there to do it in person. We are a pack based species but our numbers are too small and scattered to create true packs so we cling to what scraps we can and grow violent and obsessive in our need to protect them." There's a gesture over to a midnight blue dress and the silver sheen armour resting close by. "My sister and nephew are all I claim. Odette is sickly, has been since our creation and Thierry is... he promises himself to those who will damage him in time. If I can protect them from even a fraction of their future hurts I'll be content." There is love shining on her face as she speaks, and a distant hint of longing she tries to bury deep.

As Widow starts to move, Voirloup looks up at her with head tilted curiosity. Watches as she does... something and offers out the results.

She takes the little arachnids in cradled palms, eyes blinking in surprise then widening in awe. Mouth parts ever so, a slight peek of fangs against painted lips. Beautiful little things, their colouring reminiscent of Selene's stolen light. With reverent movements she pulls them closer to herself, a heavy purr sounding deep in her chest and thumb brushing ever so careful over abdomen, mindful of spinnerets and pressure as to not damage them. Smiling so sweet she turns it back to up Widow, her tail a quick flick back and forth behind her. "They're as beautiful as their mother. I'll cherish them." Solange feels the promise settle between them and dips her head. "Know that you and your kind are welcome here for as long as I take breath. None that I claim as mine, small though their numbers may be, shall ever cross your path with intentions of anything other than friendship, upon my remaining heart I swear it." Her magic pulses, a soft golden glow of intent and vows spoken.

[bonesofchaos]

*cracks knuckles* reply time. the muses are loud tonight

[bonesofchaos]

I'm the reason that you're famous, let that sink in. Your prophecy, your purpose, your entire destiny was written in my shadow, you exist because of me.

[bonesofchaos]

// i am here but at what cost lmao

[cryptinspo]

– 𝗥𝗔𝗡𝗗𝗢𝗠 𝗧𝗛𝗥𝗘𝗘 𝗪𝗢𝗥𝗗 𝗣𝗥𝗢𝗠𝗣𝗧𝗦 !

"Don’t look back."

"I missed you."

"It’s too late."

"Please don’t go."

"You promised me."

"Who did this?"

"I forgive you."

"We were gods."

"Leave me alone."

"They found us."

"Trust me, please."

"I need help."

"Run. Don’t stop."

"It wasn’t me."

"I remember everything."

"Burn it all."

"Tell me why."

"You never called."

"It’s just rain."

"You owe me."

"She’s not breathing."

"Is that blood?"

"You were right."

"It ends now."

"We start over."

"Stay with me."

"Nothing feels real."

"I hate this."

"Do it now."

"They're watching us."

"Make it stop."

"It's not yours."

"I was waiting."

"He’s behind you."

"They’re all gone."

"Time is up."

"Bring them back."

"It’s our turn."

"This is wrong."

"Don’t let go."

"We are cursed."

"No one knows."

"You're not real."

"Don’t say it."

"I saw everything."

"Nothing ever changes."

"Call it off."

"What are you?"

"I found it."

"Let me in."

[bonesofchaos]

It wouldn't take much to coax Il'kiyo into reclaiming the Dread Wind name and having him as your own personal attack serpent. He'd likely do it if you were interesting enough because some days he truly does miss being an unholy terror for all that he plays uwu potions master for the local and whatever adventurer steps through his door. Some days he just really misses the taste of blood on his tongue and the screaming of the wind and his enemies...

[mcflymemes]

PROMPTS FROM OBSESSION *  assorted dialogue from the script of the 2026 film, adjust as necessary

i've often wondered what it means to truly love someone. and then, i realized it's what i feel for you. it's a love that defies the limitations of the world, that remains steadfast even in the face of chaos.

even if the world lost its color, if hope faded into the night, my love for you wouldn't falter.

i don't think romance is real. i think love is real, but not romance.

romance fades. love is a different thing.

you are so lucky you weren't scheduled today.

hey, are you good?

did you get it back?

it's gone! i dropped it down a fucking drain. of all days...

today's been awful.

i'll see you at eight?

i can meet you early if you want. you don't have to be alone just to secure the spot.

don't come back here complaining.

for a very long time, i've tried to find the best way to tell you that you're the only person i've ever met with the same sense of humor as me.

okay, right off the bat, way too strong.

my feelings are strong.

i know i'm not gonna stop you.

dude, i love trivia night. it's all i have. i wake up every wednesday rock-hard thinking about trivia night.

you gotta take her somewhere else. you have to be clear about your intentions.

do you even try to flirt with her?

if she means this much to you, and i know she does, do it right.

are you serious?

you definitely didn't say fuck.

how do you know about the gun?

how many gunfights have you been in, [name]?

stop being an ass.

didn't you say you have a crazy story?

i'm saying no to being around bad, drunk singers when i just want to go home and sleep.

who's gonna sing salt-n-pepa with me?

don't let me forget, i got you something.

i might quit. i'm just not happy there.

i feel like i need to make a big change. i'm not feeling... love. i need my head in the right place to bring this to life.

i wanna write. the good, the bad, the ugly. real shit.

is that stupid?

is that all that's been bothering you?

you always go out of your way for me, and not just me, for everyone...

you said you had something for me?

why don't you come inside, and we can have a few drinks?

i know what you're trying to do.

i have never seen you act this way.

it's not your fault.

can we go, please?

i just can't sleep in my bed. i don't want to be alone.

it smells like you.

i'm sorry i was so weird earlier.

will you sleep with me?

please, i get in my head. i'll stare at the ceiling all night if i'm in here by myself.

given the circumstances... i needed this.

you kissed me!

can you lay with me?

what the fuck happened last night?

you wouldn't believe what a crazy night i had.

i seriously think she needs help.

i slept on the floor. she was freaking me out.

how am i supposed to get home then?

i want to be transparent with you abuout some things.

i know you like me, [name].

i've known you for so long, and i'm just now realizing i don't even know that much about you.

why are you giving it to me?

i love you so much. i don't think i could live without you.

i thought we were having a nice date?

you're cute when you sleep.

make a deal with me.

i am the happiest i've probably ever been.

i was waiting for you to come home.

i can get dressed and go with you.

no one on this earth will ever comprehend what it feels like to love someone as much as i love you.

can i stand outside?

do you like me?

can you tell me you love me?

i can be anything you want me to be.

i love you in every reality.

let's fuck, [name].

you wanted this, but i'm so glad you did.

you made a shitty wish, and you want to reverse it.

what the fuck is wrong with you?

i wish for a billion dollars.

why don't you love me?

you owe me that.

we can make this work baby.

i'm sorry for the theatrics.

[tides-of-clarity]

The poor youngest was just confused and scared. The sounds, the smells, and all of it was frightening to wake up to. Like a nightmare but in real life. Then there was the look Kaito was giving him. Yes he was a child but Ami was good at picking up things from his brother. More so when he gave that look of trying to lie everything was okay. Hands clump Kaito shirt as he looked around. Just when he was going to ask where they were the voice got him jumping. Quickly Ami buried himself into Kaito's chest as he wrapped protective arms around him. Normally so social but right now he wasn't so welcoming.

"I guess we have to give thanks but don't use words like that around him." Kaito warned.

Rubbing the child's back he made himself more on the tree. Seems like he was staying much to his dislike. The night was going to be long. At least it was calm for now.

" Kaito..." He begrudgingly intro himself.

[bonesofchaos]

He waves the warning away with a brush of his hand, unconcerned about it. "Don't be so stupid then. How far do you really think you'd make it in the state you're in? Less than a mile if I had to guess. The hunters aren't the only things stalking these trees and you're not known enough that the beasts will leave you be when they see what an easy meal you carry." Still, for all that he's dismissive, he takes his cloak from around shoulders and throw it the distance. It's beautifully made, with a heavy fur collar and faint magic pulsing from the fabric in little bursts of warmth.

"Wrap him in that, the forest gets cold on a night. And I am Thierry. I will keep watch once you've eaten to allow you to sleep without worry."

[crownmemes]

Psychology Sentences, Vol. 9

(Sentences for interactions with therapists, psychologists, psychiatrists - or even just friends supporting each other. Adjust phrasing where needed)

"Being frightened is a normal, natural human function, just like breathing. It's how you react to fright that really counts."

"You feel used. Angry. Now we need to figure out whether if you're mad at me or yourself."

"You've spent so long wallowing in the past, wishing time would go backwards, but that is not how reality works."

"Isn't it all just a bit busy inside your head?"

"It can't be easy always having to prove that you belong."

"Most people's memories are unreliable. The things we see and that people say, they change over time. Your past is an illusion."

"Do you mind if I ask you a personal question? Are you happy?"

"You have to be careful fighting monsters or you might turn into one yourself."

"In such uncertain times, there is a great comfort to be found in the familiar."

"Just because something seems inevitable doesn't mean there isn't hope."

"Who are we if not the stories we tell ourselves?"

"In my experience, I find that when you set out to change the world, the world changes you instead."

"You solve everyone else's problems, but never your own."

"For me to help you, you're going to have to talk to me at some point."

"Do you ever wonder if all of this is just a dream?"

"You have an unquiet mind, and so you war with yourself like a dog trying to chew off its own tail."

"Only one person has a need to know what's the things inside my head, and that person is me."

"The truth doesn't care if you believe in it. It simply exists, whether we want it to or not."

"Does it hurt? The truth you keep hidden?"

"Human memory is sensory-based. Vision alone is not the strongest trigger. Sound and smell actually work better."

"I think if you could go back and go down a different path, you would."

"Human nature is interesting, don't you think? If you understand what makes someone tick, they become predictable."

"I think you're all about your work, and you don't know when to stop."

"Beware of ideas that are not your own."

"You said "you people". Is that because you don't think you're one of us?"

"Who teaches us to be normal when we're one of a kind?"

"Do you believe that I'm a good person? That a deserve just like everybody else?"

"What we are is as much where destiny takes us as it is what we do with the journey."

"You really don't have to save me from my own life, you know?"

"You can usually find a 'hidden' meaning in anything if you want it badly enough."

"You're not allowing yourself to feel things that you should be feeling."

"If you let that kind of poison sit on your mind, you'll die from it."

[lyrics-and-music]

West Virginia // The Front Bottoms

[nvrcmplt]

-- [ Cont' from ] -- Kyle's having thoughts.

/////////////////////////////////////////////// --

He's been brained enough to know these wings are both a blessing and a curse in small spaces but still, it didn't shy him from touching and preening them in the waters. Making sure water got to the oily glands to clean what he could when offered. It was a nice smell to them too, always a blueberry hum in the air, a favourite of his, welcomed it to his own body at this point nowadays. Though as he cleans his lovers back, kissing at shoulder blades as one does he get reminded of it. That scarring that tainted their flawlessness. One man-made as always - because man can never have nice things without breaking it somehow.

Typical.

Though, when Wood makes more to turn, Kyle directs their wing with light touches, shivering from the lack of heat from the water now shielded from him, and he laughs with a light bitterness to their words. "Doesn't mean I like it, babes." He moved to welcome them closer, soaking up the warmth much better this way and kissing at collar and jaw in content. Hands smooth over flesh, raising back to their scarred skin to hold under his palm and sigh. "Pretty disgustin' ain't we, humanity? Preach all about acceptance and fairness and boom - let's mix these things together to make an army and god forbid they act out. Hurt them, that'll teach 'em to obey us." The eye roll was heavy - even with just one eye, as he huffed against their skin and squeezes his beloved.

Man-made and mistreated, never mattered, did it? He remembers the needles in his own skin, the experiments of their kind, infused with chemicals and genetic manipulations to advance humanity to the next level. Used to be twenty-eight of them and now… three. He knew Woodworm like the back of his hand, taught nothing but about this creature and that's where love blossomed. One broken window to the next… that is probably why Kyle could fall so easily, welcome Woodworm's everything because humanity already and still does look like tar stains on tissue paper. Gross and thick with lies. His furrowed brow aches, but he soothes it against Wood's frame, and he makes a noise akin to groaning and muttering a curse before he looks up at Wood again.

"Wanna escape for good? Jus' piss off and leave everything behind?" Teito got out… so why not him and Wood next?

[bonesofchaos]

"Some of you are alright." He teases, placing hand to lover's head to stroke over soaked hair. "I happen to know one who's pretty fucking perfect." Dips to steal a kiss, hoping to wipe away bitterness marring his face. It's been and gone, an age old hurt from a time he'd rather forget, no matter how hard it is to do just that. It's easier, with Kyle here, to remind himself that he got out. That he's free and clear and never, ever has to go back. Knows that even if they tried, Kyle would be right there next to him doing everything he could to keep him safe. It fills him with light, to know that even though he's so much stronger than his beloved, that he wants to protect him all the same. That he'd stand as his only line of defence until his last breath.

He can't help but kiss him again and again, so overcome with adoration for this little agent who was charged with watching him once upon a time.

He'd never expected to like him, thought he'd be just like all the others. Stiff and serious and so fucking boring, flinching every time he moved like he was about to ignite just from a sneeze. But Kyle laughed at his jokes and actually spoke to him. Watched him at work instead of sneering at him like he was filth, like humanity was any better with the shit they got up to on the regular, like they weren't the one's paying to watch Woody at work.

He goes still at the question, golden gaze wide as he looks down at his lover. "You-you mean that? You'd leave with me?" He can feel his heart racing at just the suggestion, at the possibilities open to them.