Claire Keane
Cosmic Funnies
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Xuebing Du
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Sweet Seals For You, Always
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PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
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oozey mess
NASA
Misplaced Lens Cap
Jules of Nature
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@bludsuckr
RULES ✶ ROSTER
𓏼 ₊ ┈━━ JOINED IN DEATH ♱ detectivepark fangedb1rd nstlg1a
good afternoon, MOOTIES! itching to do a bit of easy writing to slowly but surely get my foot in the door writing-wise with some of the newer blogs who are following me, so LIKE this post for me to send you a lil sumn in the inbox. MULTIS SPECIFY, lemme know preference for which muse of mine you want. :)
OOOH, 🌀 ooooh, you wanna listen to my yap about my FEM MUSES, 🌀 oooh you wanna GET IN MY DMS and let me expel on you their lore and perhaps even PLOT with me oohhh.
THERE'S: dorothea grace ( SMALLTOWN NEW GIRL NEXT DOOR TURNED FINAL GIRL ), mia dobson ( FBI AGENT ABDUCTED BY ALIENS ), and clara ramos ( CANON TO REC 3: GENESIS, OR A WOMAN AMBUSHED BY ZOMBIES ON THE MOST IMPORTANT DAY OF HER LIFE. HER WEDDING. )
✱˚｡⋆ ↪ THE 𝐒TAGES OF 𝐈NTIMACY. a collection of various action prompts centered around the varying stages of intimacy. feel free to adjust as desired. heavily mature content, dni with this post if you are under 18, & DO NOT use these prompts for non-con scenarios. )
SETTINGS.
[01.] finding privacy in a cramped dressing room.
[02.] cramming into the backseat of a car together.
[03.] slipping into the lonesome alleyway behind the bar for "time alone".
[04.] pulling them away from a party after hours of relentless teasing.
[05.] getting handsy under the table at a fancy dining establishment.
[06.] taking the long way home and pulling over on a dark stretch of road.
[07.] staying behind at the venue after everyone else has left.
[08.] the hotel room door barely clicks shut before hands are on them.
[09.] a tent in the middle of nowhere where no one can hear anything.
NEW TERRITORY.
[10.] finding yourself staring at their mouth and getting caught.
[11.] pulling back from a kiss to look at them, then immediately going back in.
[12.] memorizing the shape of them for the first time with your palms.
[13.] that exploratory first kiss, reserved and shy.
[14.] a gentle first kiss that morphs into intense want.
[15.] feeling the shape of their body through their clothes.
[16.] asking for permission to remove one of their garments.
[17.] finally succumbing to the thick tension & colliding feverishly.
[18.] fumbling with buttons or zippers because your hands won't stop shaking.
[19.] admitting out loud that you've been thinking about this for a while.
HEATING UP.
[20.] pulling them into your lap in the midst of a heated kiss.
[21.] discovering that they're wearing [ GEAR / LINGERIE ] under their clothes.
[22.] kissing away from their lips, down the length of their neck.
[23.] desperately grinding on them through layers of clothing.
[24.] dirty talking directly into their ear to turn them on even further.
[25.] pushing them onto a piece of furniture before straddling them.
[26.] lifting them onto the countertop while making out.
[27.] tugging their hair to expose more of their throat to your mouth.
[28.] the wrecked way they say your name for the first time.
[29.] fabric tearing because neither of you has the patience for buttons.
[30.] removing an obstacle of clothing with your teeth.
UNRAVELING.
[31.] biting down on their shoulder to muffle how good it feels.
[32.] the sound they make when you find the spot that undoes them.
[33.] begging without any trace of pride left and meaning every word.
[34.] their composure cracking for the first time, they finally stop holding back.
[35.] repeating "don't stop" like it's the only language left in their mouth.
[36.] leaving possessive marks in places only they'll see.
[37.] whispering "look at me" right before you take them apart.
[38.] trying to be quiet and failing, so they clamp a hand over your mouth.
[39.] flipping positions so fast neither of you remembers who initiated it.
[40.] their nails dragging down your back hard enough to sting later.
[41.] being told to open your mouth and doing it before the sentence is finished.
[42.] having your hands pinned above your head.
[43.] the desperate scramble to get closer when there is no closer to get.
COMING DOWN.
[44.] fingers lazily tracing the marks they just left on your skin.
[45.] pulling the blanket over both of you without being asked.
[46.] that silent, dazed smile when they catch your eye across the pillow.
[47.] the shaky laugh when neither of you can remember where your shirt is.
[48.] going to get water and bringing a glass back for them without asking.
[49.] lying chest to chest, feeling their heartbeat slow back down against yours.
[50.] the quiet "hey" that means something completely different now.
[51.] "come here" said softly — not urgently. just wanting them close again.
[52.] the reluctant moment of untangling.
he was, in very truth, 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐎𝐖𝐍 𝐆𝐎𝐃.
𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐗𝐄𝐈 𝐍𝐈𝐊𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐂𝐇 𝐈𝐕𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐕, a fandomless figure skater original character, featuring original vampire lore. est. april 2025. written by sans, 28.
and more splendid than the god that stank of incense and 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐐𝐔𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐈𝐍 𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐑𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐒.
ellis wipes his grease stained hands on the rag thrown over his shoulder, before coming to plop down next to marty sitting on the beat - up leather couch in the corner of his garage. it's nothing fancy, just a little area to gabber and chill out in between work. ❝ ⠀well, shit — i reckon that a hotdog is a sub, and a sub is a sandwich, so that mean's a hotdog has got to be a sandwich, y'hear me ?⠀the REAL question is whether or not cereal is considered soup or not. ❞
Marty sucks in air like he's been pulled out of water. Hm. His chest aches with the rush of oxygen. His glassy eyes start to focus and his head has a dull ache to it. He blinks roughly. Green eyes finally focus and land on Ellis's face. There's smoke puffing past his lips, joint wedged carelessly between two fingers.
"Fuck man, I was not prepared for your genius at..." he checks his wrist for his watch before he realizes he doesn't have one. "…whatever time it is."
He exhaled through his nose, crossing his arms and stroking his chin with his free hand. Their knees clinked as he shifted his weight on the couch, trying in vain to escape total consumption by the deep, sticky leather. "Isn't cereal, like, the breakfasty equivalent of a gazpacho?"
I KNOW THAT'S RIGHT. beneath all that layered clothing is a FUCKING CHAD. don't speak to me this sunday all i will be thinking about is how big his arms are. "The writers of the film joked that Kranz was like muscular Jesus." AND WE KEPT THIS FROM THE WORLD?? FROM ME??
@bludsuckr; simon. ‘ don’t act brave now. ’ — or simon & yoojin take an unforeseen detour to climb some monkey bars.
instead of climbing the monkey bars the normal way, yoojin decides the best way to play on them is to walk across the top like it’s a ladder between two buildings. ‘ too late! ’ she looks back at simon with a grin, then proceeds to hang from one of the bars by her legs, laughing. ‘ come on, simon! join me! ’
Simon stared at her, his hands jammed deep into his pockets as if to physically anchor himself to the solid, sensible ground. The playground was quiet and empty, the late afternoon light casting long shadows across the woodchips. The monkey bars weren’t even that high—objectively, he knew this—but Yoojin's blatant disregard for physics had his stomach in flips.
"You're going to give me an aneurysm," he called across the chasm of ground and sky, although there was no bite to his voice. The reluctant smile tugging at the corners of his mouth completely gave him away.
"I'd actually really love to keep both feet firmly planted on the ground," he muttered, even as he reached out and grabbed the metal uprights of the frame.
He didn't climb up to walk the top like a tightrope, but he did swing himself up onto the lower side rails, settling into a precarious seat just a few feet away from her inverted face.
He leaned forward, crossing his arms over his knees, looking down at her upside-down grin. "Consider yourself thoroughly joined. If I fall I'm taking you down with me."
ROBERT SHEEHAN as SIMON LEWIS The Mortal Instruments: City of Bones (2013) dir. Harald Zwart
TJ MIKELOGAN's HALLOWEEN HORROR 2025 EVENT
DAY 10: Final girls — Dana Polk & Marty Mikalski, The Cabin in the Woods (2011)
Biggest rumble yet. The floor starts bulging, cracking, as dust and debris cloud the screen. Dana holds out her hand. Marty puts his in it. Squeezes it. They hold a moment.
; — @bludsuckr continued from X🩸
They're ENTANGLED in one another, interwoven like too much boardwalk COTTON CANDY. Him and his VENOMOUS CANE SUGAR WRETCH. The lacquered nails not currently gripped in his steadying grip raise to SCRATCH absently at this stubble — DREAMY and SOUTHERN SWEET. Her too-glossed lips GLEAM in the dim bar lighting, parting to expose the way she playfully runs a tongue over one BLUNTED CANINE.
❝Fifteen,❞ the challenge laid tenderly at his BOOT CLAD feet. ❝And if he gets handsy then I get to eat him,❞ she murmurs teasingly. Her tone some SIREN SONG of a sound. She sways into him, effortless in the trust of his embrace catching her. All things PRINCESS and SPOILED ROTTEN.
Her gently sloped nose brushes his, sharing a NON-BREATH. ╭AN ALMOST KISS╮
The moment SHATTERS against the floor like a dropped vinyl, her sneakers MARCHING over the shards as she moves to lean in on the edge of the table. EYES swivel to her as though she'd become the ONLY beacon in the gloom, like a STAR.
❝My boyfriend over there says I'm terrible at the game, but I'd like to think I'm really good.❞ A manicured thumb jerks over her shoulder back at him on the term BOYFRIEND, as though there truly were any such light words to describe their OBSESSIVE UNDYING ORBIT of each other.
❝Mind if I join next game? Pinky promise I'm really good,❞ her slick glittering bottom lip forms a ridiculous pout. Thick lashes sweeping her cheeks as she flutters them sweetly. ╭OH, SHE WAS WINNING THAT MONEY╮
You can smell trouble long before it opens its mouth. It hangs in the air like the shift before a thunderstorm. All metallic and heavy, making the hairs on your neck stand on end. Danger comes in the form of man and woman, nothing left to lose but yourself in the din of wading bodies avoiding the rot. Chasing meaning down with Jack Daniels and the comforting sting of a fresh split lip, these creatures of the night find can make home among the outcasts.
This bar is like any other. It smells like bleach, fry oil, and men who never learned how to wash their hands right. The floor's sticky, and the jukebox's been stuck on Merle Haggard for the past three songs. Which might be a crime, depending on who you ask.
There's something about Lucy that has always reminded David of a knife. Sharp, useful, and not to be mishandled without losing a few fingers. You can try to flirt with her, sure, but there's a line most would be wise enough to know not to cross. She doesn't bother reminding anyone of it. You just know.
Phantom kiss fizzles out like quenched flame, leaving him with nothing but the lingering taste of sugar and smoke on his teeth. "Smile if you want," He concedes, quiet as a church pew. Right where she left him, rooted to the spot in his heavy leather and scuffed boots, leaning his hip back against the jukebox. “But don't do it for free.”
David grins at the word boyfriend like he's just been handed a gold star. Always full of shit, she is. Too bad he loves her for it. He tries to sell the look, bored and perfectly disinterested. If he's careful, he might catch the exact moment the poor dope's eyes glaze over from cheap beer and sudden, desperate hope.
DAISY MILLER — 3.01 "Ándale" EUPHORIA
[ BLANKET ]: sender drapes a blanket over receiver's shoulders. - ( give me rat for angelica, thanks )
Music thrums through the yard like a threading pulse, the bassline shallow and sugary. There's smoke in the air. Cigarettes, maybe worse. And half-drunken bodies loiter in small packs, spilling secrets and cheap beer in equal measure. Somewhere, someone's passed out in a hammock. Firelight flickers, barely holding against the dark.
Rat slumps against the wood-rot post of his porch, just watching the slow-motion trainwreck unfold with bleary eyes. His trailer park front yard has always been familiar stomping ground for tight crop tops and testosterone-fueled ego trips, every corner saturated with something fake. Something loud. He never learned how to be loud like that.
He takes a slow drag off his pen, lets the smoke bloom out into the crisp night air, mingling with the cheap weed and charcoal burning a few feet away. Cicadas cry and the bass rattles the thin metal siding of his home, its relentless hum rattling right through the soles of his beat-up sneakers.
The world softens around the edges as a blanket is shrugged around his shoulders, thin and flannel and undeniably Angie's.
“Thought you went home,” His expression shifts, just barely. Like pressing on a bruise that never quite faded. The ghost of a grin flickers across his face, stupid and happy and already making room for her beside him on the step. “Was just starting to miss you.”
[ GUIDE ]: in the process of guiding lucy through a crowded dive bar, david's hand protectively grazes against the small of her back.
; — 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐌𝐄 𝐆𝐎 👀🩸
The pressure of his hand has her leaning softly backward into him, pressing into his grip like a FLOWER TURNING TO THE SUN. He smells like LEATHER and warmth and a hint of her own glitter-blitzed marlboro smoke. His FAVORITISM is doted back onto him by LEAPS and BOUNDS as she curls HOT PINK varnished nails around the edges of his coat billowing her side.
Her DIRTY SHIRLEY — she MADE him go up to the bartender to order, just to laugh SUNSHINE at the phrase leaving his lips — sloshes GRENADINE along her sticky diner sneakers. KEEN honey eyes alight on a table of FRAT REJECTS playing a little too competitively and she SEIZES it much like a barn cat would an errant mouse. Blonde strands swaying against his stubbly cheek as she puts GLOSSED lips to his ear —
❝Five bucks says the big stupid one in the backwards cap falls for it first,
— wanna test our luck?❞
The world wasn't built for people like them. Not really. Not for the sun-worn moon children who grew up in half-finished houses with screen doors that never shut right. Not for the girls who showed up barefoot to bonfires, hair tangled, salt-bitten, and too loud. Not for the boys who bruised easy and healed slower, tongues copper-bled on their father's words.
But they lived anyway, kept living because it was the only thing they could do. Made it theirs. Made it mean something. Tonight the air is sticky, thick with humidity and something unspoken. The kind of night where you can't tell what's coming until it's already on you.
He's two drinks deep and Lucy glows. Soft like she's made of something more forgiving than the rest of them, but fiery enough he knew never to stand to close, powder to fuse. Still, a steady hand on her back and her hand at his coat, like Jack and Rose, clinging to a lifeline.
His eyes follow her line of sight toward the hollering and whooping pack of glorified man children. A slow, wicked smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth, stubble scraping softly against her cheek as he turns his head just enough to catch her gaze.
"Five bucks?" David murmurs back, his voice a gravelly, low-pitch purr. He reaches down, his ring-adorned fingers catching her wrist—careful of those hazard signs for hot pink nails—and tilting her hand just enough to steady the splashing, sticky remnants of the Dirty Shirley before it ruins her sneakers completely.
"Make it ten," he whispers, his breath warm against her skin as his smirk widens into something wild and entirely unhinged. "And I say he doesn't just fall for it—I say he leaves his buddies at the table within three minutes just to try and buy you a real drink from a real man." He musters his most convincing douchebag, beer-pong addicted accent. "Deal?"
THOU SHALL NOT FALL. a friend focused writing blog for an original character based in the lost boys. by leslie. a study in the caged bird, feeling lost even with others, healing, & found family. triggers present are toxic relationships. rarely follows first. THOU SHALL NOT FEAR.
# BLUDSUCKR : ┈━━ 'cause if there's no rest for the wicked, i'm as evil as it gets ( things i should have said. )
or, A PLOT-DRIVEN, FRIENDS-FOCUSED HORROR-CENTRIC MULTIMUSE, RATED M FOR MATURE. written by THERIN.
「 RP MEME : NONVERBAL PROMPTS. mix of violent, caring, touching and non-touching prompts. 」 SEND PROMPT '+ REVERSE' for the inverse to happen. for example 'bandage + reverse' for the receiver to bandage wounds on the sender.
[ BANDAGE ] : sender bandages a wound on receiver.
[ GUIDE ] : sender puts a hand on he receiver's back to guide them somewhere.
[ WAVE ]: sender waves down receiver to get their attention.
[ SIGN ]: sender raises their hand to sign to receiver. what follows can be anything the sender desires.
[ LIFT ]: sender lifts receiver's chin to look at them.
[ LIGHT ]: sender lights receiver's cigarette/candle/etc.
[ FIND ] : sender finds receiver beaten and/or bloodied.
[ PIN ]: sender pins receiver against the wall during combat/sparring.
[ GET DOWN ]: sender tackles receiver out of the way of danger.
[ TAKE ]: sender takes a hit meant for receiver.
[ CAUGHT ]: sender finds receiver somewhere they aren't supposed to be.
[ TRAP ]: sender traps the receiver somewhere they don't want to be.
[ DARLING ]: sender touches receiver's cheek.
[ SNATCH ]: sender snatches receiver's wrist as they turn to go.
[ STAB ]: sender stabs receiver.
[ DRAG ]: sender drags receiver from point a to point b.
[ SIT ]: sender sits on receiver's lap.
[ EN GARDE ]: sender and receiver get into some kind of fight.
[ DRUNK ]: sender finds receiver drunk.
[ BLOOD ]: sender walks into receiver's room covered in blood.
[ FLOWER ]: sender offers a flower to receiver.
[ HOLD ]: sender reaches to hold receiver's hand.
[ BRUSH ]: sender brushes a strand of hair out of receiver's face.
[ NOTE: ] sender writes a note for receiver. the contents are whatever the sender decides.
[ EYES ]: sender notices receiver looking at them.
[ STOP ]: sender raises hand to signal the receiver to stop in place.
[ TAP ]: sender taps receiver on the shoulder to get their attention.
[ WAKE ]: sender gently wakes receiver from a nap or otherwise.
[ MORNING AFTER ]: sender and receiver wake up together for the first time after a night of passion.
[ BLANKET ]: sender drapes a blanket over receiver's shoulders.
[ HUDDLE ]: sender and receiver huddle together in an effort to stay warm.
[ TUG ]: sender pulls receiver away from them.
[ PUSH ]: sender pushes receiver away from them.
[ BULLET ]: sender shoots receiver in a non-lethal area.
