DESTINED:  The  Sender  Recognizes  The  Receiver  From  A  Dream,  A  Past  Life,  Or 

𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓  𝐌𝐄𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆   .  .  .  ( ice  breaker  )

✧     ›    Send  "Looks  like  we're  stuck  together."  for  a  sudden  situation  forces  our  muses  into  close  quarters.  A  great  way  to  break  the  ice  with  mutuals  you'd  like  to  write  with  but  are  nervous  to  approach!

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Nikos Kazantzakis, from a letter featured in The Selected Letters of Nikos Kazantzakis

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♱ ⠀⠀… ⠀⠀𝐅𝐋𝐀𝐔𝐍𝐓 ⠀⠀𝐈𝐓 ⠀⠀𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐀𝐘 ⠀⠀.

⠀⠀… ⠀⠀non⠀è⠀un⠀𝔦𝔫𝔠𝔞𝔫𝔱𝔢𝔰𝔦𝔪𝔬,⠀sei⠀solo⠀IN⠀FISSA⠀.

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐆𝐄𝐃⠀𝐁𝐘⠀﹕⠀@ashbalfour & @gunfear i could only ever dream of being able to keep up with you beauties but thank u for letting me try

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐆⠀⠀ ⠀﹕⠀@herfacade , @gorekissed , @heiliqe & @pistolmadeofroscs

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blood, blood, gallons of the stuff ! a collection of icky, bloody prompts for those who like to choose violence. actions are reversible. general warning for blood, violence, murder, death.

𝚂𝙿𝙾𝙺𝙴𝙽 :

" that's a lot of blood. "

" it isn't mine. "

" what did you do ? "

[ sigh ] " what did you do ? "

" come on. have a taste. "

" holy shit, are you okay ? "

" it looks worse than it feels. "

" you should see the other guy. "

" it's a good look on you. you should get covered in blood more often. "

" lean on me. "

" oh my god. oh my god, oh my god, what the fuck ? is that what i fucking think it is ? "

" . . . gross. "

[ standing over a body ] " oops. "

" is that a fucking body ? "

" look, i'm sorry, okay ? "

" what the hell happened ? "

" before you say anything, it wasn't me. "

" at least it wasn't me this time. "

" look at me. this is who i am, no matter how much you pretend it isn't. "

" look at me. this is who i am, no matter how much you wish it wasn't. "

" i'm not scared of you. "

" you don't scare me. "

" shut up and let me help you. "

" i got your shirt all bloody. "

" let's get you cleaned up. "

" that looks like it hurts. "

" i'm fine, just. . . give me a minute. "

" we are so fucked. "

" what the fuck is wrong with you ? "

" are you gonna help me clean it up or not ? "

" the fucker deserved it. "

" red looks good on you. "

" what the hell did you do ; tap - dance all over the body with ice - skates ? "

" what, did you run over the body with your car a couple times after ? "

" i. . . i didn't mean to. . . "

" sorry. fuck, i'm sorry. "

" this isn't what it looks like. "

" it was an accident. "

" motherfucker ran right into my knife, i swear. "

" people need to look both ways before crossing. . . bullets. "

" would you believe me if i said wrong place, wrong time ? "

" hey, look at me. i don't care. are you okay ? "

" they deserved it, right ? please tell me they deserved it. "

" you're bleeding. "

" what the fuck happened to you ? "

" you're getting blood on the carpet. "

" sit down before you fall down. "

" that looks like a you problem. "

𝚄𝙽𝚂𝙿𝙾𝙺𝙴𝙽 :

sender spits out a mouthful of blood at receiver's feet

sender spits out a mouthful of blood on receiver

receiver finds sender covered in blood

sender tries desperately to stop receiver's bleeding

sender helps receiver clean up after a kill

sender wipes blood from receiver's face with a washcloth

sender wipes blood from receiver's face with their thumb

sender licks receiver's blood off a knife

sender licks receiver's blood off their thumb

sender lights up a cigarette a foot away from someone they killed before offering one to receiver

receiver finds sender stood over a body

sender stitches up receiver's wound [ optional wound placement ]

sender digs their finger into receiver's wound [ optional wound placement ]

sender frantically checks receiver for injuries under all the blood

sender guides receiver's bloody hands under a faucet / water source and begins washing them clean

sender bites receiver hard enough to draw blood

sender tilts receiver's head back to staunch a nosebleed

sender draws a smiley face out of the blood they spilled :)

receiver finds sender cleaning up a kill in a daze

sender looks receiver in the eye as they shoot / stab / kill someone

sender ruffles receiver's hair, getting blood all over their hand

sender gets some of receiver's blood on them and makes a face

sender flicks blood at receiver to annoy them

sender stomps in a pool of blood to splash it on receiver

sender slips in their victim's blood but receiver steadies them before they can fall

sender steadies receiver when they slip in the blood sender spilled

receiver comes home to sender covered in blood and waiting for them with all the lights off

sender spits out a tooth and it hits receiver

sender tries to wipe blood off receiver but the blood on their hands just makes it worse

sender takes an injury meant for receiver

sender shows up on receiver's doorstep covered in blood

sender sits down quietly next to receiver after receiver kills someone

sender punches receiver in the mouth

receiver watches sender lick the blood off their fingers like its cheeto dust

sender helps receiver bury a body

sender hugs receiver just to get their victim's blood all over them <3

sender hugs receiver just to get their blood all over them <3

sender leans on receiver for support

sender kills someone to protect receiver

receiver finds sender in a frenzy maiming a body after they've already killed it

sender kills someone and the blood spatters on receiver

receiver finds sender desperately trying to wash the blood off of themself

sender kisses receiver to taste the blood on their busted lip

sender shoots / stabs receiver non - fatally as a warning

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❛ it looks worse than it feels.  ❜

emilia’s  gaze  flicked  to  the  figure  standing  before  her,  taking  in  the  blood  staining  her  sleeve  and  the  fresh  cut  along  her  jaw.  strangers  though  they  were,  there  was  something  familiar  in  the  way  she  held  herself  —  shoulders  squared,  chin  lifted,  as  if  daring  the  world  to  see  her  pain.

❝  it  looks  worse  than  it  feels.  ❞

the  girl’s  voice  was  even —  almost  dismissive —  but  emilia  didn’t  miss  the  way  her  fingers  trembled  slightly  at  her  side.  the  witch  narrowed  her  eyes,  hesitating  for  a  moment  before  stepping  closer. ❝  maybe.  but  you’re  still  bleeding.  ᴸᴱᵀ ᴹᴱ ᴴᴱᴸᴾ.  ❞

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♱⠀⠀ ⠀⠀The  wood  creaked  softly  as  she  leaned  back,  the  corners  of  the  𝔠𝔬𝔫𝔣𝔢𝔰𝔰𝔦𝔬𝔫𝔞𝔩  pressing  into  her  spine  like  a  reminder  :  THIS  WAS  NOT  HER  PLACE.  And  yet⠀⠀ ⠀⠀… 

Emilia  sat  with  her  legs  crossed  at  the  ankle,  hands  folded  like  a  good girl,  eyes  fixed  on  the  worn  velvet  of  the  partition.  The  hush  inside  the  booth  was  thick,  the  kind  of  silence  that  wasn’t  empty  —  it  was  watching.  She  exhaled  slowly.  Her  palms  were  cold.  In  silence,  she  made  the  𝔖𝔦𝔤𝔫  𝔬𝔣  𝔱𝔥𝔢  ℭ𝔯𝔬𝔰𝔰.  Forehead.  Chest.  Left  shoulder.  Right.  Her  fingers  lingered  at  her  heart  for  a  moment  before  falling  away.  ❝  Bless  me,  Father  …  ❞  she  started,  and  stopped.  Her  throat  tightened.  Her  voice,  when  it  came  again,  was  low.  Steady.  But  too  quiet  for  comfort.  ❝  Bless  me,  Father,  for  I  have  SINNED.  ❞  She  didn’t  say  how  long  it  had  been  since  her  last  confession.  She  doubted  the  walls  cared.  She  doubted  HE did,  either  —  whoever  he  was.  Whatever  this  was. Her  fingers  tightened  in  her  lap.  ❝  I  wanted  something,  ❞  she  said,  her  voice  barely  above  a  breath.  ❝  I  touched  it.  I  took  it.  ❞  A  pause.  ❝  I  wanted  to  be  ƃoop.  I  did.  ❞  She  closed  her  eyes,  just  for  a  moment,  and  her  voice  cracked  —  not  from  emotion,  not  quite.  From  restraint.  ❝  But  when  he  looked  at  me,  ❞  she  said,  ❝  I  didn’t  want  to  be  𝔥𝔬𝔩𝔶.  I  wanted  to  ruin  him.  I  wanted  to  see  what  would  happen  if  I  let  go.  ❞  Another  pause,  and  she  almost  laughed,  but  didn’t.  ❝  I  did,  ❞  she  whispered.  ❝  I  let  go.  ❞  Her  hands  unclasped.  Rested  open  now  in  her  lap,  like  offerings.  ❝  I  thought  it  would  feel  like  power.  But  it  just  felt  like  fire.  And  I  think  I’d  do  it  again.  ❞  She  went  still.  Perfectly  still.  Her  breath  shallow.  Her  eyes  fixed  on  the  shadowed  screen  before  her,  heart  thudding  painfully  in  the  hush  between  them.  ❝  Does  that  make  me  EVIL?  ❞  she  asked,  not  to  the  priest  —  not  really.  ❝  Or  just  honest?  ❞  No  voice  answered.  Just  the  creaking  of  wood,  the  faint  flicker  of  a  candle  somewhere  far  from  where  she  sat.  She  swallowed,  throat  dry.  ❝  I  didn’t  come  here  to  be  forgiven,  ❞  she  said  finally.  ❝  I  just  needed  to  say  it  out  loud.  ❞  The  witch  shifted  forward,  like  she  meant  to  leave  —  then  hesitated.  And  softer,  like  a  secret  she  hadn’t  meant  to  speak:  ❝  I’m  not  sure  there’s  anything  left  in  me  that  wants  to  be  forgiven.  ❞  Then  she  stood.  The  door  creaked  open  behind  her.  And  the  moment  she  stepped  out  into  the  empty  church,  she  didn’t  look  back.

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Safia Elhillo, from Girls That Never Die: Poems

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Yennefer of Vengerberg in The Witcher - Bottled Appetites 

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Catherine Zeta-Jones THE HAUNTING (1999)

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