bleeder.

[bloombled-arch]

𝕭𝖑𝖔𝖔𝖒𝕭𝖑𝖊𝖉 — an independent multimuse. semi-private featuring a wide variety of muses, most of which require some kind of plotting before interaction. mature (21+) audiences only. no personal blogs. mutuals only.

drafts count: 1 reply, 0 inbox current most active muses: kurama, jordi chin this means replies for other muses will come slower than normal

roster (mobile friendly, under construction)

low maintenance & slow activity. i write for fun, as a hobby. replies will come when inspiration hits. anyone who pressures me will get blocked.

this blog contains mature topics. these topics are generally untagged, read at your own risk. if you have triggers, i will keep them in mind when writing with you.

i have zero tolerance for out-of-character bigotry.

please refrain from using color text in posts with me.

if i'm the driving force in the thread 100% of the time, i will drop it.

please always specify who you're looking to write with for memes/starters.

i am not open for shipping, but i am open to all other dynamics.

[bloombled-arch]

moved.

[bloombled-arch]

moved.

[bloombled-arch]

moved.

[bloombled-arch]

started the process. forgot i had to make new tags. imma die now.

[bloombled-arch]

moving soon. xoxo

[bruisednotes]

⥂ ░░░  𝙄'𝙇𝙇 𝘾𝙍𝘼𝙎𝙃 𝙏𝙃𝙄𝙎 𝘾𝘼𝙍  and kill us both. he won't, he would never. everyone else responsible for lena's death is still free and strutting around chicago like it didn't happen; aiden isn't allowed to die until that, at the very least, is corrected ⸺ but the thought certainly crosses his mind ( if only for a split second that's gone so quick it's like a blip in the matrix ) and it would certainly be instant relief from the embarrassment clawing its way up the back of his neck and now staining even his ears pink. leave it to jordi to not just take the bait, but to take it and spit it back out for something better. eyes always on the prize.

     aiden can feel those eyes on him now, burning in the same way the ... stolen ? gifted ? pocket square now sits tucked in his jacket. he feels too seen, exposed, each piece of his own personal barrier being stripped from him bit by bit and layer by layer, until jordi eventually reaches his very core ⸺ and fuck, aiden doesn't know how to stop it. or if he even wants to stop it.

     because at the end of the day, jordi's right. infuriatingly, undoubtedly right. aiden reeks of jordi in a way that is typically reserved for mates, for people that have bonded and consummated that bond many times over. not for some unbonded, practically feral omega with seemingly no interest at all in changing either of those things. and jordi apparently has no qualms about reminding him of that fact, if the pleased sound filling his ears and the empty space of the ( stolen ) car is anything to go off of. aiden bites down on the inside of his cheek until it nearly breaks skin, fighting back the instinct to respond in kind, to make a noise that is just as blatantly pleased by the state of them as jordi.

                                             it's a narrowly won battle.

     “    one, i was going to take you through a drive thru and let you order for yourself. two, i'm not yours; don't call me that.    ”   

[bloombled-arch]

The threat of fast food is the kind of bait that ordinarily would get Jordi annoyed - he'd spent too much time and effort on making Aiden look human again for him to fall back int obad habits - but today is just not one of those days… Today's a good day, one where the smell of them has sunken into everything and left the usually quiet alpha in him buzzing in barely disguised pleasure. Today's a day of pleasure, of little temper… Today's the kind of day where he watched Aiden, flustered and frustrated, try to fumble around a topic that they normally both avoided like the plague. "I didn't say you were mine, don't put words in my mouth. I said you smelled like me. Like us. Don't get pissy over a fact."

A fact that Jordi was enjoying, and still digesting in some ways. Fixer instinct to use and abuse the budding connection for all it's worth conflicting with the normally dormant alpha instinct that wanted to make permanent. His very human, and very normal, instinct to stop it fighting his very primal and unlike him instinct to enjoy it.

Jordi does both, because he's stubborn. Eyelids lowered halfway as he leans back into his seat. Gaze firm on the going-ons outside the passenger side window as he inhales deep and lets their combined scents linger in his lungs. "If you don't like it, I can take it back." A slow, indifferent blink that masks nothing. Cheek coming to rest on a closed fist, his elbow propped up on the lip of the car door panel as he stares and stares at nothing at all. "You work better when you're calm, but if you want to go back to being a neurotic asshole that's going to get himself killed, that's your choice."

[cottaqecore]

taryn

[bruisednotes]

⥂ ░░░  𝗗𝗢𝗡𝗢𝗠𝗜𝗘 𝗦𝗡𝗜𝗖𝗞𝗘𝗥𝗦, 𝗔𝗟𝗟 𝗗𝗘𝗟𝗜𝗚𝗛𝗧  and no shame, as he brings his arms around, flattening his hands against wyatt's stomach and leaning into him further. wyatt's not wrong, he's not helping at all; if anything he could be considered in the way. even while his hands pet over the skin under his palms, the fact that they aid in the too-cold water washing away any red that had managed to touch his skin is a bonus, an afterthought, and not their purpose.      “    mmm ... moral support ? emotional support ? that's helping.    ”

    hazel eyes turn upward, watching the shampoo lather pink, mind drifting through fleeting daydreams of how the blood had gotten there in the first place, how hard the guy must have been fighting back to get even one hit in on the massive wall of muscle that wyatt is. it must have been a glorious sight. but he knows better than to voice any of those thoughts. instead he mumbles,       “    shouldn't you be a little gentler than that ? that has to hurt like a bitch.    ”

[bloombled-arch]

Pain is a good focus, it always has been, but it's not as good as Donomie. Not as good as the weight of him against his spine, or the feeling of his hands as they slide around Wyatt's sides to his stomach. Slippery and hot against his cold skin, callouses comforting, and all of him spending sparks of — something up his spine. Not heat, not want, but something warm and just as important. Something that forces his brain to focus on more than just the memory of flesh splitting beneath his fists, or the feeling of sudden, sharp pain in his head.

Even the blabbering, pointless and annoying, helps. Donomie's questions resulting in his shoulders relaxing, his jaw unclenching, tongue loosening from the roof of his mouth —

"I don't notice pain like that, not after…" Hunts. "It's insignificant." But he stops the scrubbing, leans his head under the spray to rinse it off. Tries hard not to think about how some aches and pains felt like nothing, and then others (the pinch of his skin between teeth, nails in his back, bruises caused by half-hearted hits) stayed with him for minutes, hours, days after. Wyatt blinks his eyes open as he leans his head out of the water. There's slight warmth trailing down the side of his head, he can feel it trickling behind his ear and down his neck. "It still bleeding?"

[bruisednotes]

⥂ ░░░  𝗕𝗬 𝗡𝗢𝗪, 𝗛𝗘'𝗦 𝗠𝗢𝗥𝗘  than used to wyatt being prickly; wyatt's always prickly, but it's worse here, in these moments when he's fresh out of elbow-deep violence and what donomie considers the most wyatt he ever is ⸺ and he loves it, of course he loves it. so, unperturbed, he smiles and molds himself against wyatt's back, hands on his hips, cheek pressed flush against his skin, filth be damned.      “    here to help you clean off, duh. why's that mean i can't be curious ?    ”   

[bloombled-arch]

The more Donomie presses, the more irritated he gets - although that's a good thing for them. The younger man like a weight to Wyatt's brain, pulling him down from that free-floating space he often went after a beat down, grounding him when he normally would drift between automatic post-hunt rituals. He gives Wyatt a single point to focus on, which is appreciated as much as it isn't - which is to say a lot. "You're doing a shit job of helping." He says, instead of answering the question. A bloodied and bruised hand drifting to pointedly touch Domi's fingers before retreating back upwards to scrub at his pink-tinted hair. Breath whistling from between clenched teeth as he pokes and prods at his head before finally — "He's alive. If he's smart and called 911."

[bruisednotes]

✘ ⸺ ░░ WYATT ( @bloombled ) is getting heart eyes from GAZ / DONOMIE.

⥂░░░   “    𝗗𝗔𝗠𝗡, 𝗧𝗛𝗜𝗦 𝗜𝗦 𝗔 𝗟𝗢𝗧 of blood ... this guy even still alive ?    ”    he says far too casually, with eyes that shine a bit too bright and are sparkling, with a curve to his lips that's far too pleased.

[bloombled-arch]

"Does it fucking matter?" Tone devoid of anything at all as Wyatt turns away, turns his aching face into the too-cold spray of water. There's a bruise forming on his temple, he can already feel it - "Do you need something, or are you just being a fucking weirdo?"

[synthiiac]

if Clara looks concerned? it's because she is. slowly stooping down to first stare ( ... ) taking the time to first confirm her suspicions before carefully pinching the crumpled up, magazine-issued, cologne sample between pointer and thumb. handling the sample with the caution of a bio-hazard clean up as she turns to face @bloombled —- .

"I understand exploring your options, but this is a little excessive." turning it over to catch the label's name. "not to mention, I don't think you strike me as a . . . Spicebomb kind of guy." Laughter felled from her lips like a fine wine.

[bloombled-arch]

He's a little too old to be starstruck anymore, and that's probably his only saving grace in the situation. Twenty-nine years old and staring down the Badboy17 with a mask that, gracefully, only replies to her observation in neutral x's.

"Ehhh, probably not, but it's better than soaking myself in axe bodyspray like a teenage boy in a high school locker room, yanno? It just brings a little class to the situation." Class? There's a tentacle robot stolen off a porn set sitting turned off in the corner directly to her left. Wrench determinedly doesn't look at it. "Listen, I'm not sniffing you, don't sniff me."

[bloombled-arch]

considering remaking bc i hate my taggies like why didnt i tag verses why am i dumb but also effort. time. eugh.

[bruisednotes]

░░ JORDI CHIN  ( @bloombled ) to AIDEN PEARCE : ░░ ✉  "you smell anymore like me, pearce, and we're going to have to make an announcement in the paper." one. showing his age. two. jordi chin is not wrong.

⥂ ░░░  𝗔𝗜𝗗𝗘𝗡 𝗗𝗢𝗘𝗦𝗡'𝗧 𝗧𝗨𝗥𝗡 𝗜𝗠𝗠𝗘𝗗𝗜𝗔𝗧𝗘𝗟𝗬.  in fact, aiden doesn't react at all, save for the involuntary warming of the back of his neck, the minute twitch of his fingers on the steering wheel. suddenly, the pocket square tucked into the inner pocket of his coat feels like it's burning him through every layer of clothing he's wearing, as if it's visible, tucked against his chest and creating a blazing neon sign telling jordi exactly where it is, exactly where they always are. it's  inconvenient  at best,   humiliating,  at worst, depending on how badly jordi wants to poke and prod and tease him about it. aiden would much rather not give jordi the chance to do either, but he's been silent for too long; he's got to work faster than his embarrassment can bruise his ego, damn it.

     “    no one makes announcements in the papers anymore, jordi. no one even  reads  newspapers anymore.    ”    finally, he glances at him in the passenger seat, eyes instinctively sweeping over him, pausing briefly on the new, neatly placed pocket square and then away again, back to the stretch of chicago highway ahead of them. he'll admit it to himself and himself alone, but jordi looks damn good, smells damn good. he needs to get them both out of this car at the earliest possible convenience before he makes a fool of himself even more than he clearly already has.      “    should we stop somewhere on the way back to the hotel, so the senior citizen can get his dinner ?    ”   

[bloombled-arch]

Aiden's reply has no bite, he's waited too long for that. It's something that they both know before he even opens his mouth, although Jordi's willing to give him a B for effort - it wasn't like Aiden had taken the comments laying down, at least. No, instead he'd just gone for an easy target, pretending to pretend that the joke about how much he smelled like Jordi wasn't bothering him, that Jordi didn't have him flushing a fetching red-pink up the back of his neck, or didn't have his fingertips twitching on the wheel.

It's sweet, really, as sweet as Aiden fucking Pearce can get and Jordi can't stop himself from rumbling in a pleased manner. Too smug to be offended by comments about his own age, every inhale reminding him pretty fucking quickly about how much everything smelled like them in the car. The scents intertwined in a way that was hard to pick apart, even for him. Blending together in ways that shouldn't be possible, let alone allowed, not with the way they hadn't even fucked, let alone bitten each other…

"So willing to let others smell us like this that you want to go out to dinner?" A quick inhale through the mouth that leaves Jordi rumbling again, although this time it's not in amusement. "Are you looking to be seen as mine to everyone in Chicago, Pearce?"

[petaltexturedskies]

L.M. Montgomery, Anne of Green Gables

[kaisources]

꒷꒦꒷꒦༉‧🕯️‧₊˚.THE DARKNESS SEEMED TO BREATHE . . a collection of HORROR ROLEPLAY SENTENCE STARTERS based on horror films. genre: horror, thriller, mystery, crime.

I feel like something bad is gonna happen to me.

It hasn't reached me just yet, but it's on its way.

It's hard for some people to understand, but you have to believe.

Do you know where you are?

Please send someone now.

Yeah, that was the last time that I saw [him/her/them].

It felt very strange in the car on the way home because there was one empty seat.

I didn't not believe [him/her/them], but, I don't know, it was kind of hard to take.

Hope it was a joke or something, I don't know.

It was a real shock. Just didn't really feel like it was real.

They asked me to sign a statement of identification. Don't you know?

I just couldn't bring myself to identify the body.

Death takes everything eventually.

There's nothing else to know about it, really.

Yeah, it didn't feel real.

When I think of how bad it was back then, it's hard to imagine how much worse it would get.

There was just something weird about that house.

It had a really strange feeling about it. I really can't explain to you what it was exactly.

I started having these nightmares, do you have it too?

It was quite terrifying, as I said, I didn't want to open my eyes.

I didn't feel like I was doing anything wrong.

You never spoke about it?

Everyone grieves in their own way. It wasn't really my place to be telling how to feel.

I heard a noise coming from your room.

You know, I was completely freaked out.

Do you believe it was a ghost?

Whether it's a real ghost or not, I don't really know.

There were some bruises, quite unusual.

Can you talk to me about the photographs of the backyard that you've been taking?

It's basically the same shot, but it would appear that a ghost is standing against the fence.

When I first looked at the photograph, I didn't know what to make of it.

The image was quite unsettling...

You know, I can't tell you how much I wanted there to have been a terrible mistake, even if it had been mine.

Stop it. Oh, my God.

The question remained, who or what was in those photos?

I kept hearing noises in the hallway.

Well, You need set up a camera to see anything, see something.

Death is not the bitter end, it's not the full stop.

There's somebody very close to you, someone you haven't seen for a while.

Where I come from, when someone dies, they block out all the mirrors in the house to stop the dead from finding their way back.

It's just the start of something else, right?

You're gonna die, [name].

I don't know what I really did expect, but there was nothing kind of spooky or fake about [him/her/them].

Better to be safe than sorry.

Tell me what you see. I want you to describe what you see, where you are.

You can see something, can't you?

I'm completely indifferent to supernatural, I don't really have a position on them at all.

I think it's for the best that we hold a séance.

How do you feel about having a séance held in your house?

You know, it would be interesting. We should film it too.

I'm getting a strong presence in the room.

I was reviewing the footage, there was an image of [name]!

It was impossible to dismiss it as a coincidence of shadow play and digital noise.

There was something inexplicable in the house, beyond doubt.

I've never seen a ghost before.

I had heard rumors, purporting to be of an apparition in the house.

I must say I was skeptical as to their legitimacy.

I thought I might be able to help the ghost by being there, you know.

Something is happening inside that house and I want to find out what it is

What's your reaction to these images?

What do you think I'm going to do?

Maybe the camera had seen what [name] saw.

I had found a figure in the background like the figure that had been described in the picture.

Do you guys believe in ghosts?

I guess it was like something was better than nothing.

I thought they actually were quite alike.

You know, they want to talk to someone or make contact with someone they've lost.

Well, what do you think is gonna happen?

What are you doing in my room?

I was sure there was still something in the house.

They seemed to prove that there was a ghost in our house.

Didn't used to, but it's a hard thing to prove or disprove ghost's presence.

Sometimes I think maybe they do exist.

There are ghosts everywhere. It's a scary world.

It's like how it helps people, like, dealing with loss, like making up stories about ghosts or whatever.

I noticed something in the image. There was a second figure.

I literally just couldn't believe my eyes.

It just left so many unanswered questions.

How do you feel when you wake up from these dreams?

Take a deep breath. Close your eyes.

I was worried. I became convinced that something had happened to [him/her/them].

I mean, did you know what had happened that night with [name]?

Are you scared of dying?

Isn't everyone scared of dying?

Would you like to tell me a little bit about what happens in these dreams?

At some point, this figure came towards me from out of the darkness.

It was the same face of the body that I had identified at the dam.

Stay far away from me!

Oh, my God, they're coming.

I think the figure was an omen.

The burial of the possessions was symbolic, it was a ritual.

You know, [he/she/they] had morbid thoughts, sure. I mean, who doesn't?

I don't know that anybody's really convinced that they're gonna die.

There'd been closure, I suppose, to a degree.

It will be difficult to leave the house.

Someone's there. I think someone's coming down the hall!

[crueltyerror-arch]

As angry as he may have been, the gentleness of Kurama's voice is enough to calm him. It's reassurance, and as much as Kuwabara hates this, as much as he wants Yomi's head, the fact that Kurama is so ... okay with it all quells some of the anger brewing in his system. It's still poison, but he's okay. Right? He seems fine and he's eating, at least.

He wants to go on another rant, but he doesn't. He takes a moment to take a deep breath ( a very, very deep breath ) and sighs, shoulders dropping almost comically as he stares at his friend. "He could'a put more thought into it. If he was gonna do that, he could've sent flowers with it. Gifts to make up for you almost dying. I don't get it, but I guess. Next time, he better come up with something else. He gets a one time pass since you seem so... happy about it."

[bloombled-arch]

Flowers. Gifts. Kurama turns the words over in his mind, thinking about how to delicately explain as little, and as much, as he can. Kazuma knew, already, who he had been once, and maybe a fraction of his crimes, but the whole of it? Kurama doubted it. Doubted he knew more than the simple truth: Kurama had been a terrible person once, but he was better now. Changed. A new chapter in an old book, one where he was kinder and wiser and was at least ten percent more merciful than he had been once.

But to explain that Yomi would have taken his eyes, and he would have still accepted the proposal for what it was? That the poisoning hadn't been much at all, and that the gifts he'd accepted as apologies were just as strange? A garden that now grew the very plant that he'd been poisoned with, and an amulet from an old lover, one that Yomi had been so fiercely jealous of.

Simple. No explanations. It was the only way - although he doubted Kazuma would let things go so easily. "He gave me a garden." The easier of the gifts to show off. And then, the more complicated: "And a very old amulet." He touches his shirt, beneath which the amulet hangs strangely light. The touch is absentminded, self soothing. "He is trying, and I'm very..." he pauses, thinking for the word, "I suppose I am very happy, yes. It's very different, to be known so intimately. Terrifying, at first, but relieving after a while. I'd forgotten what it was like to be known as I was, not by reputation but by someone who had been there, had known me before I - before I spiraled, I suppose, although he was gone before then."