ROSES ARE BLUE,

but then it passed,   like all things do.

[dacryoid]

independent, mutuals only ⅋ selective multi-muse roleplay blog. this space is primarily for friends. written ⅋ cherished by viero [twenty8, she/they]. this blog will be very lowkey, as i’m testing the waters to see whether i can handle running a multi-muse again, so please don’t expect too much. i don’t have many rules: don’t be weird, don’t be problematic, ⅋ we’ll get along just fine. most characters on this roster are closed for writing unless we’re friends and/ or you’ve shown genuine interest in my femme ocs. yes, this is me bullying you into writing with my oc's.

MUSES UNDER THE CUT.

pokémon trainer indigo, original character based in pokémon + alan wake canon, they/them, 28, information.

leon s. kennedy, mostly canon compliant except for RE9 because i haven't played that :)

zack fair, crisis core + ffvii remake based.

shadowheart jenevelle hallowleaf, baldur's gate iii, path of selûne cleric because fuck shar.

cait sith, ffvii remake based.

vincent valentine, ffvii remake based.

fenix augustine-solberg, norse mythology based but with heavy ties to marvel and/ or detective comics, original character, they/it, +1000, information.

megumi fushiguro, jujutsu kaisen, manga + anime based, but i am not up to date so bear with me.

saga anderson, alan wake 2, game canon.

ryland grace, project: hail mary, movie canon.

blonde blazer, dispatch, game canon.

utahime iori, jujutsu kaisen, manga + anime based, but i am not up to date so bear with me.

nero sparda, dmc4 + 5 canon.

... more to follow when i think of them.

[dacryoid]

so anyway i overthrew my url + blog layout once again

[dacryoid]

my twisted little druid

[dacryoid]

∗ 97 + reverse﹕leon has hidden an injury from jill, and jill finds out.

deep within the guttural recess of the pharyngeal cavity, a starveling hound has gone utterly ferox ... an unholy entity frantic with animus against the sublunary world and the blood-stained hands that proffer the leash. when the jaws part, the primal instinct is merely an incessant latration—a rabid, strident bark, bark, bark—a desperate apotropaic defense designed to terrify the observer before there is any witnessing of how close the tether is to terminal dehiscence.

instead, the operative compels a shallow, adscititious risibility, attempting to lacquer the heavy silence with a signature, cheap gasconade. 〟hey, hi, hands off the merchandise,〝 falls the murmur, though the vocables rattle unevenly against the sternal grate of the thoracic framework/ the deceptive bravado failing to steady the tremor underneath. 〟we are not playing poke the bear today, @vlentined. i'm fine, really.〝

yet the theatricality of the mien cannot obscure the catastrophic failure of structural defense. beneath the frayed, compromised seam of the vestments, the aramid lorication is completely dehisced, a ruptured carapace of kevlar weeping a dark, viscous rubedo into the weave. no pristine, argent projectiles are to blame for this sudden ruin, no romanticized, chalcographic duel; only the crude, pragmatical laceration of the bio-organic wild. beneath the shredded ballistic integument, the flesh presents a grim, bifurcated geometry ... a jagged aperture of introitus and the hidden, shattered exitus where vital lymph exudes into the placidness. the armor suffered obsolescence miles back, leaving only a mortal form hemorrhaging through the fissures of unyielding obduracy.

[dacryoid]

“ indigo ! do you drink coffee or tea? 💞 ”

a brief, silenced aporia tilts the nacreous visage. the tender interrogation hangs like a stray petal within the sterile, crucible air/ an query altogether too gentle for a creature forged of mako and iron. behind the scapulae, the anthracite remiges suffer a sudden, velvety horripilation, a soft, plumbeous rustling like midnight folding its own corvine tissue into the quietude.

the mute sovereign pauses, phalanges rising to slice the dense atmosphere with clean, chironomic strokes: no preference, i like both.

the dactylology is deliberate, translating an absolute, undivided equipoise. they require the scorched, bituminous pyrolysis of the dark bean to fuel the long, heavy nights, yet equally revere the slow, foliar deliquescence of the steeped leaf to soothe the scarred marrow.

the pale hands fall still against the black plumage. dilated, luminescent eyes hold the quiet space for a heartbeat, before the fingers rise once more to cast the silent query back to @stopmeteor: and you?

[dacryoid]

life keeps throwing curveballs my way and I honestly cannot take it anymore

[favoriteache]

( 🚿 ) : for our muses to shower or bathe together. (midnight dip in a moonlit lake action between the Druid and the Wizard per chance)

night reflects into the soft ripples of the lake; the moon, bright above their head, illuminates indigo's silhouette as they walk toward the water. the wizard moves to escape, a movement born of habit at this point, but the druid shakes their head before it can be achieved. like a spell spoken, its effect is immediate. he does not move, his feet buried in the soft clay surrounding the lake. he can barely breathe as he sees them ridding themselves of their blood-battered clothing. the soft thump of fabric falling to the ground is deafening; nearly as loud as the beatings of his heart as his gaze linger on the druid's silhouette.

they're beautiful. he, a man of observation, keen on details, knew that already. it would be foolish to pretend he has not written a few sonnets about the tender way light hits their eyes, or the gentle slope of their shoulders when, sitting against tree bark, they observe the wide horizon. if he were an artist, he'd know the curve of their hips by heart; he'd draw it blind, from all the times he has walked behind them, suffering the distance but willing himself to keep the pace, if only to maintain the sight. but this… this is more than a glimpse in haste, with indigo taking off their robes before the wizard gets a chance to turn around. the usual way to watch them is a shameful thing; either from afar or in the wild second it takes to look away. he is not proud of it. he doesn't recognize himself in it; doesn't know where the hunger for such a thing comes from. their history is one of silences stretching while they take their full, looking at each other, as if the rest of the time it was a treat he was not willing to indulge in.

right now, it's an invitation to bathe in the vision, to watch as it unfolds, to discover the shadow cast beneath their breasts, or the intimate notch between the clavicles. for a wild moment, he wonders what it could be like to be close enough to press a kiss there, where the flesh is at its most tender. the thought, of course, spreads like wildfire; he must be blushing a thousand times worse than that cruel day they gifted him a flower. he has it still, dried and spread across his favorite book. he should leave. he knows where that particular urge comes from: he would rather keep his eyes closed at all times & get to love them than watch them & risk indigo misunderstanding his attentions for lust.

but they asked, in their way. they shook their head. it has to mean something.

the sight of them is enough to steal his breath away, but it is also the rest of it. the body as it disappears into dark waters. the way moonlight spreads around them like a cloak of shining diamonds. the shadows of the trees high above their heads, swaying with the night breeze,like hands reaching down. in this very moment they seem to be a part of the scenery, another creature of the forest, bathing at night. the moon kisses them home, lapping at exposed skin with the kind of gentleness that gale struggles to understand-- the night had been, up until that point, a moment in time. with the druid, it seems to be a creature of its own, holding them in their loving arms.

if it weren't for the warmth of his cheeks, the bruising of his body and the aching of his knees, he would think it a dream. it certainly has the hazy foundations of such a thing. he doesn't know what he is meant to do, but it seems not to matter: his gaze is ensnared, and the rest of his body is just a slave to the sight. he has been on other planes and has bedded a goddess-- he should be used to such marvels. how foolish of him to think so. perhaps it is more jarring that there is no scent of rosemary, no flickers of magical light. it is nature; mud and water and the buzzing of insects around them. it is desperately alive. it is desperately lively. how the goddess pales in comparison. how mad she must be, to realize that the magic holds this moment in time, that it is breathing. that it can be reached, and held. that it can hold them back, their gazes intertwined.

[dacryoid]

vesperal syzygy. the vault is a livid, dacryoid dome where the argent satellite, perpetually plangent for her vanished sun, strews the dark with her calcined, petrified tears. yet her cold, selenic gaze burns with a singular, obsessive ache for the fey silhouette wading below: it is as if the celestial widow mourns this sovereign of the wild, gilding the druid’s nakedness to soothe her own ancient, sidereal void.

on the shore, the exuviation of the day’s violence is a slow, reverent cultus. the blood-crusted corium of leather and the heavy plastron fall to the damp argil with a soft, leaden ruin ... a violent carapace peeled away to reveal the unblemished, nacreous curves of the elven frame. stripped of the rigid, crimson-crusted integument, the skin emerges like peeled birch over wet river-stone, gleaming with an unearthly chill under the silver pall. along the spine, a sudden, delicate horripilation as the humid midnight air licks the exposed cutis. there is a heavy, dragging friction in the quiet. a phantom, adscititious touch that traces the curve of the hip and the intimate, intricate notch of the clavicles.

stepping deeper, the lake is a chthonic cauldron, a sweltering athanor of loam and smaragdine silk waiting to digest the day’s cruelties. the lymph acts as a slow, dark tongue lapping at the thighs, tasting the copper and the sweat. the blood on the cutis does not merely wash away; it dissolves in long, sensual plumes, a brilliant, iridescent rubedo bleeding into the water-made womb, returning the day's violence to the ancient, thirsty rhizomes of the forest. the water rises like a wet syrma of starlight, clinging to the collarbones in beads of mercury.

turning in the dark, tresses sprawling behind like obsidian lake-weed, the druid's gaze locks onto the shadowed bank. elven eyes, dilated to swallow the night, reflect the star-spent grief so completely they offer no mortal reflection; only the infinite, silent cosmos.

narrator: the tadpole stirs behind the druid’s brow, carrying with it a sudden, intrusive heat. across the silent water, the wizard’s mind bleeds through the connection ... with a raw hunger ... and the druid feels every pulsing drop of it. a slow, languid tilt of the head is all the invitation he gets.

[dacryoid]

dante pushes indigo against a wall to kiss them & dante comes to indigo after being injured.

midsummer exestuation/ the tin chassis turned a sweltering athanor, a crucible where petrol-dross and the red glare of neon pollute the residual, empyrean quietude of the fallen. a slow, petaline afterlight silvering the grease of a mortal berth. the quiet is a heavy, stagnant vigil in the torrid dark before the sudden, kinetic sacrilege: the door flung back to admit a shattered, lacerated weather. the nephilim dragged home from the brink, trailing the sulfurous reek of limbo-scoria and the hot, barathric blood of the abyss. an absolute desecration of the stasis. the gaze lifting in wordless perplexity, startled out of the quiet before it can even catalog the geometry of @devoetions ruin.

the vertical tin wall catches the spine with a groaning arrest, the frame pinned by a bleeding, frantic gravity. up from the shoulder-blades, a sudden, involuntary horripilation. the obsidian plumage bristling in a sharp, hieratic panic, hidden primaries snapping tight and shuddering against the aluminum hull.

the connubium is an instant, blasphemous transubstantiation. 〟d— mmpfh—〝 a mouth of salt and sanies sealing the unformed question, forcing a terrible, unholy sacrament upon the pristine pleroma of the seraph. this is the ultimate domestic heresy ignited under a suffocating summer/ a mutual profanation where tartarean ash and primordial incalescence dissolve into the argent grace of the divine ... the kiss is an iconoclastic fury, a shared damnation where the half-demon's venomous, abyssal heritage drinks directly from the vessel of heaven, staining the immaculate lips of the angel with a fluid, weeping sacrilege. they liquefy into a singular, breathless thirst, the raw necessity of his mouth consuming whatever vestigial sanctity remained, turning the very defilement into a sweet, devouring theology.

yet even as the mind drowns in that bleeding eclipse, the fingers perform their own blind, frantic spell. hands going desperate to the hem ... instinctively tracking the wet, ragged tears in leather, sliding into the deep, pulsing wetness of the hurt beneath. the touch reads the damage like a sudden, visceral terror, the sheer wetness of his blood a cold panic cutting through the heat until the seraph finally wrenches their lips free. the kiss broken on a ragged, frightened intake of air, the mouth stained and weeping with dante's cruor while the hands remain anchored to the ruined fabric, holding the beautiful, blasphemous wreckage of him.

[dacryoid]

hey guys, i'm writing this because i'm in a really terrifying financial spot right now and my anxiety is completely through the roof. last friday, i unexpectedly lost my job. because of how the contract and payout dates fall, i am left with absolutely zero income until the beginning of august, and i am panicking about how to cover the next few weeks since i'm already in the negative on my bank account.

my absolute priority right now is keeping a safe roof over my head and taking care of my dog, smilla. she is epileptic and strictly relies on her daily medication to stay safe and seizure-free. her next batch is due by the end of july/early august and costs 120€. (on top of that, my rent is 533€, making it a total of 653€ that i somehow need to raise out of nowhere. but getting smilla's medication is number one on the list.)

to try and bridge this gap, i'm also opening up emergency commissions specifically for blog graphics. if you need headers, promo graphics, dash icons, or anything else for your blog layout, please shoot me a dm. i'll be opening up slots of 3 commissions for the moment. under the cut you'll find some examples of blog layouts i made for friends.

if you aren't able to commission me or drop a few euros via paypal, please do not feel pressured at all. honestly, just hitting the reblog button helps me just as much by getting this onto more dashboards. thank you so much for reading, and for looking out for smilla and me.

my paypal.

(alternatively it’s @amyrchtr on PayPal)

[dacryoid]

so umm I got let go at work today 🙃

[dacryoid]

the brute  is  caught  following  fenix. (just keeping a friendly eye on them, teehee)

a rubiginous desolation/ the vitrified rot of dead human foundries left to choke on their own dross. through the iron carcass moves that telluric heft, breathing a mephitic incense of spent cinders and a defensive, stubborn lacquer of sandalwood. then the calid air spoils. a sudden, parasitic intrusion breaks the heat-haze—an osseous shadow trying to skin the edges of a pre-cosmic gravity. a larval, mortal insolence trailing an exiled furnace. the reaction is no civil pivot, but a plutonic paroxysm ... a sudden, calcining displacement of the human envelope to accommodate the ancient weight of múspell. velocity as an act of god.

corrugated alloys buckle, screaming into sudden liquefaction as the white-boned facade of the intruder is driven back. a theomachy in miniature, shaping the rust into blistering roughage under the lawless, chthonic pressure of their proximity. the whole yard thinned to pure mephitic suffocation; slate-grey eyes dissolving into sub-crustal embers, looming close with an absolute, unmitigated malice: 〟give me a single reason,〝

the syllables an exhumation, a low, crepitant rasp dragged over centuries of primordial magma, heavy with a bitch’s immediate, unreconciled pride.

〟why your little porcelain mask shouldn’t be reduced to slag before your last breath leaves your throat. speak.〝

[favoriteache]

somewhere along the road, indigo stoops to pluck a small spray of blue larkspur from the verge/ the petals near the color of spell-flare, dusk caught in bloom. the druid keep it tucked carefully away for hours after. only later … they approach without announcement, stop just within his orbit, and hold the flower out between two fine-boned fingers. no explanation follows. only that small, awkward offering and the slightest nod, as if the gesture ought to suffice/ as if handing him a piece of the wild that made them think of him is somehow simpler than saying so. ♡

the flower hovers between them for a moment; neither refused nor accepted, but a third thing: awkwardly considered. first, he throws a look at the other, only to seemingly remind himself that few words escape indigo's lips. the explanation will have to come from elsewhere. the wizard then looks behind himself, apparently expecting someone else to be there, awaiting a gift.

obviously, indigo and him are alone, if not for the flickering light of the fire at the center of camp, and the few candles that gale keeps alit at all hours of the night, prefering their warm gleam to the complete darkness.

when the realization hits him-- that it must be for him, that it is freely and voluntarily offered, that it has not been picked at camp… color blooms, cherry-pink & embarrassing, over high cheekbones. the flower is exchanged, tips of his fingers brushing past indigo's to hold it. he has the most inane thought that the flower goes fairly well with the pyjamas he's wearing, and he's strangely pleased by that fact.

to their nod, he nods back, at a loss for words. he tries, still, his throat dry and his face alarmingly warm. "that is... well, terribly kind of you. thank you."

[dacryoid]

blue vacated their fingers and left a tincture there:   dusk,   spell-scoria,   petaline afterlight.   then the answering rose, climbing sudden through the face before them with such febrile vividness that winter in them receives it by its oldest catechism.   flesh as weather.   flush as augury.   the mortal frame no less ensouled than root,   bark,   moss silvering under moonfall.

thus the hand already lifted in brief assay, cool fingers,   moonwater-light,   settling once at the wizard's brow while the other speaks first in the simpler language.   two gestures, small and efficient: the sign for sickness, then heat.

by then the other hand has gone, by some blind hedgewise liturgy, to the little pouch at the hip and drawn from it a sprig of feverfew   …   a druid’s first reading:   the wizard was red in the face,   warm at the brow,  and therefore unwell,   or near enough.

[ohisms]

𝟏𝟎𝟎 𝑵𝑶𝑵𝑽𝑬𝑹𝑩𝑨𝑳 𝑷𝑹𝑶𝑴𝑷𝑻𝑺 .    (  a  collection  of  100  nonverbal  action  prompts .   mature  and  potentially  triggering  themes  are  present .   add  “ + reverse ”  to  swap  assigned  roles . )

∗ o1﹕ sender  tucks  hair  out  of  receiver’s  face . ∗ o2﹕ sender  offers  receiver  a  bite  from  their  fork . ∗ o3﹕ sender  places  their  feet / legs  in  receiver's  lap . ∗ o4﹕ sender  offers  receiver  an  earbud  to  share  their  music . ∗ o5﹕ sender  comforts  receiver  in  the  aftermath  of  a  nightmare . ∗ o6﹕ sender  gives  receiver  company  in  the  hospital . ∗ o7﹕ sender  wraps  their  arms  around  a  hysterical  receiver  to  calm  them . ∗ o8﹕ sender  shows  up  at  receiver’s  home  late  at  night . ∗ o9﹕ sender  falls  asleep  leaning  against  receiver . ∗ 1o﹕ sender  wields  a  [ gun / knife ]  at  receiver . ∗ 11﹕ sender  runs  their  fingers  through  receiver’s  hair . ∗ 12﹕ sender  invites  receiver  to  dance . ∗ 13﹕ sender  takes  a  [ picture / video ]  of  receiver . ∗ 14﹕ sender  places  their  head  in  receiver’s  lap . ∗ 15﹕ sender  and  receiver  make  eye  contact  across  a  busy  room . ∗ 16﹕ sender  pushes  receiver  against  a  wall  to  kiss  them . ∗ 17﹕ sender  and  receiver  cook  together . ∗ 18﹕ sender  comes  to  receiver  after  being  injured . ∗ 19﹕ sender  sits  in  receiver’s  lap . ∗ 2o﹕ sender  lifts  receiver's  chin ,  invoking  eye  contact . ∗ 21﹕ sender  overtakes  receiver  in  combat . ∗ 22﹕ sender  finds  receiver  [ injured / bloodied ] . ∗ 23﹕ sender  straightens  an  article  of  receiver’s  clothes . ∗ 24﹕ sender  crawls  into  bed  with  receiver . ∗ 25﹕ sender  rolls  their  eyes  at  receiver . ∗ 26﹕ sender  lights  receiver’s  [ cigarette / joint ] . ∗ 27﹕ sender  is  caught  wearing  receiver's  clothes . ∗ 28﹕ sender  strikes  receiver  with  a  pillow . ∗ 29﹕ sender  writes  a  note  on  receiver’s  skin :  [ note ] . ∗ 3o﹕ sender  wraps  a  blanket  around  receiver’s  shoulders . ∗ 31﹕ sender  runs  and  jumps  into  receiver’s  arms . ∗ 32﹕ sender  shoves  receiver  out  of  anger . ∗ 33﹕ sender  hovers  over  receiver’s  shoulder  as  they  complete  a  task . ∗ 34﹕ sender  is  found  by  receiver  somewhere  they  shouldn’t  be . ∗ 35﹕ sender  curls  up  against  receiver  in  their  sleep . ∗ 36﹕ sender  is  found  drunk  by  receiver . ∗ 37﹕ sender  throws  an  item  of  sentiment  bitterly  at  receiver . ∗ 38﹕ sender  joins  receiver  in  the  shower . ∗ 39﹕ sender  is  caught  following  receiver . ∗ 4o﹕ sender  traces  one  of  receiver’s  [ scars / bruises ] . ∗ 41﹕ sender  twines  their  fingers  with  receiver’s . ∗ 42﹕ sender  barges  into  receiver’s  home  unannounced . ∗ 43﹕ sender  kicks  receiver’s  shin  beneath  a  table . ∗ 44﹕ sender  aggressively  shoves  past  receiver . ∗ 45﹕ sender  kisses  receiver’s  [ forehead / cheek ] . ∗ 46﹕ sender  pulls  receiver  out  of  harm’s  way . ∗ 47﹕ sender  is  found  sobbing  by  receiver . ∗ 48﹕ sender  locks  receiver  out  of  their  room . ∗ 49﹕ sender  brings  receiver  [ coffee / tea ]  in  the  morning . ∗ 5o﹕ sender  rests  their  forehead  against  receiver’s . ∗ 51﹕ sender  plays  a  song  for  receiver  that  reminds  them  of  them :  [ song ] . ∗ 52﹕ sender  takes  a  [ punch / stab / bullet ]  meant  for  receiver . ∗ 53﹕ sender  buys  receiver  a  drink  at  a  bar . ∗ 54﹕ sender  needs  receiver’s  help  getting  in  the  bath . ∗ 55﹕ sender  and  receiver  cross  paths  in  the  kitchen  late  at  night . ∗ 56﹕ sender  twists  receiver’s  arm  behind  their  back . ∗ 57﹕ sender  winks  at  receiver . ∗ 58﹕ sender  is  found  collapsed  by  receiver . ∗ 59﹕ sender  prevents  an  injured  receiver  from  getting  up . ∗ 6o﹕ sender  claps  a  hand  over  receiver’s  mouth  to  silence  them . ∗ 61﹕ sender  cages  receiver  against  a  [ wall / the floor ]  with  their  arms . ∗ 62﹕ sender  storms  away  from  receiver  during  an  argument . ∗ 63﹕ sender  is  found  by  receiver  sleeping  in  receiver’s  bed . ∗ 64﹕ sender  [ applies / touches up ]  receiver’s  makeup . ∗ 65﹕ sender  throws  receiver  into  a  wall  during  combat . ∗ 66﹕ sender  dances  sensually  with  receiver . ∗ 67﹕ sender  strikes  receiver  across  the  face . ∗ 68﹕ sender  places  their  hand  on  receiver’s  leg  while  driving . ∗ 69﹕ sender  pulls  a  chair  out  from  under  receiver . ∗ 7o﹕ sender  catches  receiver’s  wrist  when  they  turn  to  leave . ∗ 71﹕ sender  leaves  an  intimate  mark  on  receiver . ∗ 72﹕ sender  beats  receiver  in  a  video  game . ∗ 73﹕ sender  and  receiver  stand  in  stunned  silence  after  a  fight . ∗ 74﹕ sender  cares  for  receiver  while  they’re  sick . ∗ 75﹕ sender  and  receiver  go  on  a  hike . ∗ 76﹕ sender  is  caught  snooping  in  receiver’s  things . ∗ 77﹕ sender  and  receiver  cuddle  while  watching  television . ∗ 78﹕ sender  throws  something  aggressively  at  receiver . ∗ 79﹕ sender  creeps  up  behind  receiver  to  scare  them . ∗ 8o﹕ sender  and  receiver  go  shopping  together . ∗ 81﹕ sender  helps  receiver  [ dye / style ]  their  hair . ∗ 82﹕ sender  draws  receiver  into  a  kiss  by  the  back  of  their  neck . ∗ 83﹕ sender  is  discovered  having  a  panic  attack  by  receiver . ∗ 84﹕ sender  accidentally  injures  receiver  during  sparring . ∗ 85﹕ sender  grabs  receiver  roughly  by  the  hair . ∗ 86﹕ sender  brings  receiver  to  their  knees  during  combat . ∗ 87﹕ sender  shows  receiver  evidence  of  a  lie  they  told . ∗ 88﹕ sender  winks  [ seductively / mockingly ]  at  receiver . ∗ 89﹕ sender  yells  at  receiver  to  put  their  hands  in  the  air . ∗ 9o﹕ sender  helps  receiver  patch  up  a  wound . ∗ 91﹕ sender  holds  receiver  as  they  cry . ∗ 92﹕ sender  silently  and  angrily  points  receiver  towards  the  door . ∗ 93﹕ sender  gestures  for  receiver  to  sit  down . ∗ 94﹕ sender  pulls  receiver  into  their  lap . ∗ 95﹕ sender  cradles  receiver’s  face . ∗ 96﹕ sender  tackles  receiver  out  of  the  way  of  danger . ∗ 97﹕ sender  has  hidden  an  injury  from  receiver ,  and  receiver  finds  out . ∗ 98﹕ sender  confronts  receiver  about  their  unhealthy  behavior . ∗ 99﹕ sender  proposes  to  receiver . ∗ 1oo﹕ sender  has  just  died ,  receiver  finds  out .

[callmeteor]

  got all the time in the world.

  [ @kasv0t / Zack ]

❛  That's  not  even  true.  ❜   A  meek  denial  twisted  with  a  soft  sense  of  knowing;  he  speaks  like  it's  entirely  obvious  with  no  hidden  malice.  There's  a  slight  smile  that  forms  at  his  lips,  but  his  eyes  oft  tell  a  different  story.  Gently,  a  hand  moves  to  give  him  a  playful  shove,  a  friendly  motion  to  remind  him, [   I'm  not  stupid.  Don't  lie  to  me.   ]

For  a  moment,  his  expression  fades  as  he  allows  his  face  to  pull  toward  the  tips  of  his  boots;  steel-toed,  infantry-grade.  He  knows  them  now,  better  than  the  backs  of  his  hands.  It's  easier  to  look  at  them  than  at  anyone  else.  Safer,  too.  Quieter.

He  tries,  for  a  moment,  to  force  himself  out  of  his  shell,  maybe  to  sound  a  little  more..  like  Zack.  For  some  reason,  he  wants  him  to  like  him.  He  doesn't  care  much  about  the  opinions  of  others,  not  usually…  but,  he's  been  quite  lonely,  and  Zack's  the  first  person  he's  felt  believes  in  him.

❛  You  wish  you  had  all  that  time…  ❜   It's  a  playful  jab,  but  it  comes  off  incredibly  forced.  It  even  makes  him  cringe  inside.

[dacryoid]

〟oh,   so that’s how it is?〝 ... the syllables go loose and saline,   bright with that pelagic levity which makes of every moment a sort of shining expenditure.   a nudge of brine and daylight.   some small littoral insolence.   and up from him at once that lavish aureation/   the old,   incurable lucency,   prodigal as youth and nearly as untheological.   gilt at the mouth,   sea-gloss at the edges,   a heliacal mischief,   as though some minor morningstar had taken up brief residence in mortal weather and found the arrangement charming enough to prolong.   all that unspent adolescence of the spirit:   waveborne,   aureoled,   superbly unpersuaded by limit or dusk or the actuarial vulgarity of endings.

the smile following has in it the dangerous candor of first light over water: something gilded,   something incautious,   something that still mistakes radiance for an inexhaustible substance.

〟man,   and here i thought i was bein’ real convincing!〝

still the effulgence lingers.   a golden imprudence.   a seraphic carelessness with its collar open to the wind.   the whole bright ruin of him turned seaward,   toward whatever tender mirage keeps youth from learning too early the true shape of vanishment. 〟c’mon.   you gotta give me a little credit for effort.〝

[dacryoid]

you'd tell me if something was wrong, right? // claire to leon haha :)

the question goes in like a small clean round, no blossom of noise,   only that ugly ballistic elegance by which the slightest thing finds the oldest breach.   somewhere beneath the gunmetal patina/   beneath the well-kept slouch,   the raffish ease,   the bright little counterfeit of unruined humor: impact. a hairline failure in the plating.   some minute interior give.   leon stills in that almost-imperceptible way damaged men do,   not frozen exactly,   only drawn very briefly into themselves,   as if taking inventory by instinct of what has just been struck and whether it is survivable to let it show.

〟what,   i don’t sell ‘doing fine’ well enough?〝 wryness arrives on cue,   lacquer-bright and vaguely disreputable.   the old expedient.   charm not as adornment but as managed hemorrhage;   the wound taught better manners,   taught a grin,   taught itself to flash nickel in the light so nobody studies the penetration too closely.   it sits in his mouth with that familiar glint/   something more sideral and shopworn:   steel handled too often,   a blade thumbed dull at the spine and yet still serviceable for parry.   for years it has been enough,   this rakish little sleight-of-hand,   this insinuation of ease flung over worse machinery.   usually the shine does the work.   usually nobody peers long enough to notice the metal fatigue underneath ... but this was @ethyriam after all.

but some looks have a way of entering like lockpicks.   some silences assay the structure more cruelly than touch.   and suddenly the whole bright contraption feels a little threadbare,   a little porous ...   bravado with daylight showing through the stitchwork.   his gaze slips,   returns.   the almost-smile remains where it was,   though now it carries the unmistakable aspect of something stress-fractured;   a charm gone fissile,   an old defense turning volatile in the hand.

〟c’mon,   red.   tell me what gave me away.〝

[dacryoid]

colliding with a wall, then each other's lips. / to.. indigo :)

the wall is a mere antechamber, a rude plank of plaster at the spine, a secular impact scarcely worth the body’s notice. what follows annuls it. @callmeteor's mouth arrives and winter, hitherto all discipline and pallor and ironed reserve, suffers its first heresy. the planet's vessel takes the kiss like blackwater takes moonlight … stunned first, then fathomlessly altered. there is in them one lucid, vitreous instant where everything arrests, breath in abeyance, thought cleft clean through, as though some long-rimed interior river has heard at last the inaugural crack travel through its own bright carapace.

it is not tenderness they register, not firstly. rather the austere catastrophe of thaw/ hoarfire under the skin, a cold so absolute it inverts and burns. cloud’s mouth makes an orison of ruin at theirs, and the body, faithless to composure, comprehends before the mind can rise up and desecrate it with sense. fingers seize a fistful of him in pure reflex. then their own mouth yields, parts, answers … with the dazed and tidal obedience of ice becoming flood, of rime translated to melt and momentum and the exquisite shame of wanting rendered suddenly corporeal.

... and somewhere inside that upheaval, something impossible begins: something rarer. winter bloom/ hellebore forcing its dark little face through frost-hardened earth. a rose kept alive beneath glass while the whole world starves. love, perhaps, in its least merciful season; not meadow-born, sun-indulged, but flowering precisely where it ought not, petal by argent petal from the wound of cold itself.

they kiss him back as though the season itself had entered them incorrectly, as though winter, finding no clean vocabulary in snow or silence, had chosen instead to write itself in mouth-heat, in the stunned salt of breath, in the perilous nearness of being desired past language. the wall recedes — the world recedes. there remains only this narrow and blinding topography; cloth knotted in their hand, his closeness, the vertiginous fact of answer.

when mouths divide, they do so meanly, miserly, by almost nothing at all. indigo stays there with spine to plaster and gaze lifted, violet-blue gone wide and eldritch with the sort of solemn bewilderment catastrophe bequeaths. something old and glacial in them has fissured, some inner permafrost now issuing forth in dark lucid runnels.

[ohisms]

‪‪❤︎‬ ˚｡⋆ ↪ 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒 & 𝐓𝐄𝐋𝐋 !    (  a  collection  of  75+ kisses.   feel free to specify the initiating muse.   potentially mature content within.  UPDATED 02/25 !  )

finally kissing the person you’ve been pining for.

pulling them in for a kiss while showering together.

a kiss shared during a game  ( truth or dare,  spin the bottle,  etc ).

kissing your lover to show you forgive them.

a coy, chaste kiss meant to say thank you.

an intimate kiss full of relief the second you're finally alone.

wiping away your lover’s tears as you kiss them.

a kiss muffled by laughter in a library, hidden away among the shelves.

lazy kisses on the sofa while the television runs.

kisses while wrapping your legs around your lover.

a quick peck on the cheek as one party rushes off.

a kiss to prove you don’t have feelings for them.

a kiss to convince them not to leave bed in the morning.

a kiss to distract them from stitching a wound.

a parting kiss before one party goes away for a long time.

biting their lip amidst a kiss, drawing blood.

heated kisses while tugging on their hair.

abruptly kissing a stranger to scare off the people following you.

an emotional kiss bringing one party to tears.

a bruising kiss full of desperation and urgency.

distracting your lover from a task by kissing their neck.

standing on your tiptoes to kiss their forehead.

kissing down the column of your lover's neck, leaving marks.

a kiss while being reunited after a long time.

kissing your lover in a moment of sheer joy.

a dutiful kiss with no true feeling behind it.

kissing your lover to take away their pain.

colliding with a wall, then each other's lips.

a kiss placed over their freshly bandaged wound.

a kiss while slow dancing close and intimately.

sharing a spontaneous kiss with a stranger.

an abrupt ,  heated kiss during the middle of a fight.

a kiss motivated by a dare from a third party.

an adrenaline-fueled kiss while standing on the ledge of a rooftop.

kissing them to shut them up.

urgent, messy kisses as both parties scramble to undress.

a kiss to wake your lover up in the morning.

sharing a kiss in a heavy downpour of rain.

kissing your lover just above their waistband.

kissing your partner to seal a marriage.

pushing your love down onto the bed to worship their body with kisses.

a possessive kiss to stake a claim.

a kiss to resolve suppressed ( romantic / sexual ) tension.

a kiss attempting to convince the other party to stay.

kissing the top of their head as you hold them.

a risky kiss between forbidden lovers.

a kiss while hiding away from flashing cameras.

a kiss that means absolutely nothing.

kissing the swell of your lover's breast.

a kiss that leaves lipstick stains.

a kiss shared on a rooftop while the sun ( sets / rises ).

a flirtatious kiss on the back of the hand.

sensual kisses down the length of their back.

kissing them to confess your true feelings.

sneaking off to a public bathroom to make out.

a kiss to forgive one another after a fight.

a kiss on the forehead as the other sleeps.

an  ( accidental / mutually )  drunken kiss.

an unexpected kiss during a fake dating scheme.

kissing your partner after they've given you head.

caging your lover against a wall with your arms to kiss them.

a kiss after receiving good news.

an emotional kiss, relieved to find your lover alive.

crowded, heated kisses in the backseat of a car.

a tentative ,  exploratory kiss between friends.

a kiss shared between enemies during combat.

a kiss that smears blood everywhere.

kissing them even though you know you shouldn't.

kissing your lover after believing you’d lost them.

a kiss after a devastating event ,  meant to comfort.

a possessive kiss in front of a jealous third party.

kisses while pulling them into your lap.

a heated kiss while holding them by the throat.

kissing your lover under the night sky while stargazing.

a kiss to seal a promise that you just made.

kissing your lover lazily first thing in the morning.

holding your lover by the jaw to kiss them.

holding their face, kissing the tears from their cheeks.

a kiss to your lover’s stomach as you travel down their body.

an abrupt kiss that you melt into after a moment of hesitation.

sleepy ,  domestic morning kisses in the kitchen while making breakfast.

a rushed kiss before one party leaves for work.

a final kiss shared while holding your dying lover.