金を与れ

[desertpoison]

DESERTPOISON ! - a highly selective & independent roleplay blog for Party Poison from Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys. Heavily headcanon-based and influenced. cranked up by Cemetery (they/them, 27, cst). graphics by @babsjpg

This blog plays in Hannah's sandbox

a dissection in... rebellions, found family, a corrupted government, desert standoffs, adrenaline, heartbeats & heartbreaks, defiance, a rage against conformity, the weight of leadership, carried guilt, and expectations.

I. CARRD | II. MEMES | III. SELF-PROMO | VI. PINTEREST BOARD | v. HEADCAONS | IV. PLAYLIST

ZONE-CREW (affiliates) - @glasshcldhigh @ru5t / @hittheredline @hvndredzones

BLOGROLL - @poisonedfire

STANDINGS: inbox: 4 ! drafts: 3 ! starters owed: -

[hittheredline]

  While his brother's busy with the lighter, Kobra finds another spine. Smaller, sharper. But he's well practiced in the desert's nonsense, and this one goes as easily as the first, pinched neatly between his front teeth and spit back into the sand. He gets a few test flexes in, feeling for any more pulling or stabbing out-of-place, but nothing strikes. Not until the spare second warning before the fruit of their effort comes sailing his way. Kobra catches it just short of missing entirely, a dull little thump into his palm.

  Drink? He'd forgotten. Lost the idea somewhere in the surge of impulses passing one after the other in a blur past his head. That's the real danger of this thing, this run roaring in the back of his mind. The way the impulses go flying, flinging themselves across his brain at every moment, every change, every shift around him, a thousand more every second. A thousand thousand.Run for the flats, drink until you can't hear anything anymore, cave to the voice that wants violence. Blood and viscera. Vengeance. Everyone who'd done you wrong dying and suffering and dead and gone, got. Gotten and grabbed and ripped apart, rip 'em shreds, ruin everything, burn it all down blow it all up nothing gets out nothing gets free everything suffers---

  Feel yourself get chased long enough and loud enough, you'll start throwing yourself at whatever else you can think of, hoping -begging one of them will be the thing that shakes it off your tail.

  Kobra knows it. Always has. Or, if not always, has known the danger long enough now that he picks what he picks on purpose. Out of the thousands of things that swarm him, swamp him, he aims where he knows he'll find relief and won't find his way back into the dirt. Back into their hands. He weighs the tough little cactus fruit in his hand, bouncing it once or twice for an idle fidget.

  “If yer next suggestion is lizard hunting,” Kobra warns as he ambles toward the car, “I think the fuck not.” During the day when they're all sunned and lazy is pain enough. He's not trying to dig those shits out of the dark even if the cold does make them slow. Makes him slow too, and he didn't bring his jacket. Slump. Onto the hood, where he skins the fruit with a thousand times the ease and grace that came out of hacking the plant to death. One rote, the other rage. “I want-” He starts, but doesn't end. He sinks his teeth into their get and hopes it was quiet and quick enough to pretend it was the wind.

[desertpoison]

A faint breeze causes the flame to shiver. But it's resilience remains unwavering as its used. Steadily, a hand rotates the fruit around. Fuzz is expertly burned away. The flame extends upwards as its fed. The colors subtly pulse as if its pleased.

The fire's soft tangerine glow is a gentle presence in the surrounding night. Shadows and light dance across their features, details brought to life by the lighter. Various scars here and there are revealed, most of them small except for one in particular.

An almost star-like circular scar is burned the skin of bottom of their jaw. It's healed, but still jagged and messy.

The brown flecks in Party's hazel eyes almost appear golden as they stare at the flame. Like they're caught in a trance.

Their mind detaches. Pulling away from reality. Unconsciously, their hand with the fruit lowers until it rests at their side. Kobra's answer regarding lizards is lost, muddled as if distant.

It's beautiful; the flame. It exists against all outside odds, and can be feared for its potential to be destructive.

Funny how symbolic that is.

The light flutters with a soft sway.

How can something so stunning result in absolute devastation?

Just how far would fire spread in an open desert like this? Would it rip through and reach the borders of Battery City? Would the smoke be visible from the City's heart?

Violently, Party's mind snaps back to reality. They blink a few times, taken back by their sudden disconnection. Their usual demeanor returns. Gaze raising to their brother, they tilt their head almost questioningly, "Hm?" It's a rhetorical sound, despite how it might be interpreted. They flip the lighter closed in one smooth motion. The flame extinguishes, it's presence only remembered in memory.

The ground softly crunches beneath their boots as they approach the car's hood. Party leans against it, handing the lighter out to Kobra and motioning for the knife. "Ya wanna let me skin this one?" They wag the fruit they just finished burning the fuzz off of.

[robotae]

𝗟𝗢𝗖𝗔𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡 :  DESERT, near noon 𝗙𝗥𝗢𝗠 :  DANIEL ZHAO 𝗧𝗢 :  PARTY  POISON [ @desertpoison ]

"fuck- fuck- FUCK!" a loud bang, pain pulses across where he just hit his bike, spreading through the entirety of his leg - which does little to help him calm down. neither does this goddamned heat, and his string of absolute terrible luck. his bike has broken down coming back from a "gig", and now he is stranded in the middle of nowhere, in a fucking dangerous territory at the worst time possible. the gun strapped to his thigh is the sole source of comfort, and the knowledge that the magazine is full of bullets. the sound of an approaching stranger makes him suddenly even more alert as he straightens up, seconds from unholstering said gun. a small voice inside his head, very much unlike him, mutters that he should try asking questions first before starting a western shoot-out in the middle of nowhere. "hey." a cough, next words grated out of his throat, the idea of asking for help worse than walking through hot coals. "you... wouldn't happen to be a mechanic would you?"

[desertpoison]

Party should know better than to to pick strangers up (especially here in the middle of this wasteland). But they've already made their choice upon pulling over. It only takes them seconds to kill their Trans-Am's engine, unbuckle and slip the keys into their pocket.

The Rat King steps out of their vehicle, their signature yellow mask glinting in the sunlight. From what they can see, the bike lacks any signs of being BL/ind property. And just by sheer appearance, the person is the furthest from either being a Drac or a Crow. Party starts forward, sand particles crunch beneath the soles of their boots with each step. Their yellow raygun sits in their thigh holster, primed and ready.

'Cause only fools or cowards go down without a fight here

(and Party, is neither).

They come to a stop, shifting their weight to one side in a rather smug manner. "May happen to know one or two. I might even be one," they drawl, glancing at one of their fingertips as if inspecting the dirt beneath the nail. Party is capable of fixing a bike; they've helped repair their brother's numerous times. This one should be no different. "By the looks of ya, ya ain't a Howler or a pig, which is shiny."

Hazel eyes glance at the man with a hint of interest. "But say, what's in it for me?"

[desertpoison]

TRANSMISSION FROM: Kobra Kid [ @hittheredline ]: ❝ I do it because I want to protect you ❞

DAYS OF BEING WILD || - ACCEPTING !

Like a shifting tide, Party's frustration didn't last long. It's always been difficult for them temper to persist when Kobra is involved. Grudges never have the chance to fully nestle their roots into the rich soil of their soul. They share the same blood, and with it came a unique understanding of one another. A simple mutual glance exchanged between them could speak sentences and exclamations. To anyone else, it's a foreign language, uttered without words.

Bubbling emotions quickly simmer and dissipate, leaving behind a person.

A person, who is still very much human and prone to mistakes.

The resurrected aren't excused from making errors.

(un-fucking-forunately)

Kobra's words act like a balm, rubbed over raw wounds. Simultaneously, painful and soothing. The Rat King's heart eases. Tension fades from their shoulders, a once creased brow softens.

They've always done the protecting. Jumping into a firefight to aid an ailing crew, shielding Techno from falling debris with their own body, they've taken hits aimed at Kobra, the list goes on. When it comes to their brother, Party is willing to sacrifice everything to keep him safe and out of harms way.

The West Venom Siblings would blindly follow each other to the ends of this dammed planet.

"Kobra," the name floods out on a long exhale. "You can't protect me against everything."

A small dry smile slowly tugs at the corners of their lips. "You won't be able to forever."

It's the agonizing truth that applies to them both. "Protectin' me ain't as shiny of a job as it seems, Kobes." They point a finger to themself. "I attract alotta trouble, remember?"

[hittheredline]

  Hack. Slash. Stab. It's not identical to gutting a drac, but the way the slabs squish apart into gooey, sticky mush as he carves a jagged wound through it manages to make him think viscera anyway. It's helped along when, despite his earlier kick, he draws too near the spiny defenses and earns a stabbing to the side of his hand for it. And another. He doesn't stop. Doesn't even slow, ignoring the bloody returns except for a mild wince. The cactus pulp starts to look red to him. Crimson, and darkening still, but it's too dark and too impossible to actually pick that out of the truth, so he chalks it up to his imagination satisfying itself with the only violence of the night being aimed at a fucking plant.

  There is something to it, anyway. A satisfaction in watching the damn thing go down under his brother's boot. Plume of dust in the dark and, dare he admit it, a bit of highly specific catharsis. Like proof that one day they'd catch up to everything that had ever hurt them, every single thing, and tear it down too. Maybe not all at once, or in some grand moment, but one day. They'd roll up out of nowhere together and put things... well. Probably not right, really. Even he can't pretend that. But they'd all have it coming.

  “'Ey?” admission he'd not entirely been.. clocked in. He turns his hand to find a little broken needle sticking out of it. He pulls it with his teeth, spits it. The question processes. “If y'ain't coutin' all the fuckin' dust,” he answers, studying the bloody side of his fist, “then yeah.” It's not bad. Already the bleeding has slowed without him paying it any real mind. The the knife hand drops to his side and the other goes fishing in his pocket. He produces a lighter - a quick whistle lets Party know it's coming, then Kobra tosses it to them in an easy arc through the air. For burning off the pliant, fuzzy strands that cover the surface of the fruit. Last thing either of them need is their noses and mouths itchy, shredded, and embedded with the stuff.

[desertpoison]

It was arguably difficult to sympathize with a cactus; it didn't have a family or anyone (or thing) that would miss it's absence. It didn't have a significant purpose (other than to be an annoyance and kickstart their hatred for cacti). Party has seen birds and various small animals use cacti for shelter. Fortunately, this one was vacant of any critters (aside for some wandering ants).

How many others encountered this succulent on their way out of the City? How many had the tree seen?

The cactus might be down, but Kobra doesn't stop his assault. Kobra Kid - The Cactus Ghoster. It has a very nice dramatic ring.

Who knew that cutting down cacti could aid in releasing pent-up emotions?

The realization inspires amusement in Party's chest. Aggressively weeding out cacti could be an excellent crew-bonding activity. The use of chainsaws, firethrowers, and explosives would be prohibited. And hopefully everyone made it back to the Diner without thorns in their asses.

Kobra's blood is nearly black in the dark. The sight of it isn't enough to make Party's gut twitch, but the vaguest flicker of concern blossoms in their gut. The feeling is easily pushed aside. They've both survived worse than a pesky prick from a cactus. The Rat King squats down beside the fallen succulent. They brush the tips of their fingers mindlessly against the loose sand, feeling the coarse particles against their callused skin. Their head pops up at the shrill short whistle from their brother.

Something is flying their way.

They react automatically, reaching up with one hand to snatch the lighter out of the air. Plucking a fruit from the spiny stalk, they flip the lighter's top. A finger rolls the flint wheel once before the wick is ignited in the eyelet's soft flame. Carefully, they hold the fire close to the fruit's fuzz, watching as it burns away. The light casts a gentle illumination across their hazel eyes, reflecting the flame's glimmer. Once finished, they return the whistle before mimicking Kobra's toss. This time, the fuzz-less fruit comes soaring.

Party gets to work on the second one, the motions repetitive. "And that first taste of lizard soon after?" They chuckle, turning the fruit sideways over the flame. Tiny strands catch ablaze, easily singeing off. Party finishes and before moving onto the third, they pause. Their gaze shifts to Kobra, observing him in the single light. "Wanna sit on the hood 'n eat these? Ya still wanna drink?"

[kaisources]

. ݁₊ ⊹ : 𝐃𝐀𝐘𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐁𝐄𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐃 . . . roleplay sentence starters , ⁽ ⁰⁰¹ ⁾ based on WONG KAR-WAI'S FILMOGRAPHY . genre: romance, drama, relationship .

You'll see me tonight in your dream.

You look something special today.

From now on, we're friends of one minute.

How long have we known each other?

I've got to find some place else to live.

I've told you many times that I never steal!

Do you think it's so easy to do so?

I've never promised to go home with you.

You're nosy, aren't you?

Why did you come with me then?

I know you won't even call me, you don't even memorize my number!

Do you want to take advantage from me?

I've heard once that there was a kind of bird with no legs, it only could fly, and when it got tired, it slept in the wind.

Have you ever made me happy after so many years?

I didn't say it before because I don't want you to leave.

You will forget about me as well.

Don't fall in love with me.

I'd like to take back my stuff, I'm not good for you.

Why are you so attentive to me?

I don't like marriage like the others do.

I won't know whom I love most 'till the end of my life.

If one comes & says that you are [his/hers/theirs, should I give up?

Don't ever come back once you step out!

Why do you treat me like this?

Many trouble will be solved after a good sleep.

I thought that I would be okay, I always tell myself.

I'll hate myself if I go back again, I don't want to hate myself.

If you really can't live without [him/her/them], why don't you tell [him/her/them]?

[He/She/They] would remember me forever for that very minute.

I won't force you if you don't like to go.

I won't dessert you.

Don't you know that you are giving me an excuse to hate you?

I do it because I want to protect you.

You spoiled yourself for these years &. put all the responsibility on me, you want a revenge.

It's boring to stay in one place for a long time.

I have told you to leave first, now you are tailing me!

If you could fly, you wouldn't have to be here.

What do you want to see the most when you die?

I never know which person is my true love.

A friend of mine always wants to challenge my memory.

Actually, we know each other for a short period of time only.

Even if I can see [him/her/them], maybe [he/she/they] can't recognise me.

I must not close my eyes when I die.

[desertpoison]

I'm currently rolling in and craving more Venom Siblings feels because of @ru5t .

-Gnawing on the bars of my enclosure, slithering through the walls, etc.-

I MUST BE FED MORE!!!!

[deadasadisco]

@desertpoison sent : “What's rattling around up there?"

“Mmmm?” Annie blinks blearily. She aches, scars pulling in different directions, leaving her with no way to be comfortable. Usually, she can stretch the tension out enough to get through the day; it doesn’t look like today’s going to be one of those days. If she can’t get things under control, she’ll have to take something to manage the pain, and most of the solutions that work mean she won’t be allowed on the floor to work, which is frustrating.

She sighs, rubbing at one shoulder. Right—Party asked something of her. “Um. Sorry. Focusing is… hard, right now.”

[desertpoison]

Party isn't sure what to call it or how he knows; is it a sixth sense, a gut-feeling, godforsaken luck, or their naturally fantastic intuition? Truthfully, it could just be that they've grown so accustomed to the Tavern's normal energy, that it's become easy to pinpoint when something is amiss. Like how an engine sounds when one gear is struggling.

They're patient as she finds the words to answer, situating themself a comfortable distance beside her. "I know what that feels that." The hand on her shoulder doesn't go unnoticed. "Guess we kinda match?" The Rat King motions to her shoulder and then to their right one. "Shoulder ache buddies." They say a bit lamely, attempting to lighten the mood.

"You workin' tonight? If not, we can find somethin' to do."

[desertpoison]

HOLA! I’m not dead.

I’ll be around on Wednesday to get some drafts/replies out. Work has been a bit more tiring.

On another note, I snagged MCR tickets on Friday 💪🏼 Now I just gotta survive until later next year.

[hittheredline]

@desertpoison || One, Two... Five!

“It’s just a cut, really.”

  “You're bleedin' on everything, Pois,” she argues sharply, pointing at the smear they've left behind on the way into Diner. “C'mon. Stop bein' stupid and jus' ... lemme see.” Her insistence comes paired with a none-too-gentle prodding. A poke aimed roughly at where the blood is coming from — she never claimed to be a gentle attendant. Never had a real good example of fluffy care to learn from, and she's just mad enough not to care if she's being rough.

  After all, it's just a cut, right?

[desertpoison]

Way to go, Pois, their mind jeers. Always rattlin' worries, as if ya haven't done that 'nough. They used to be better at this; hiding their injuries to avoid raising concerns. Guess they're more obvious than they thought (or they've just gotten worse at it). They sharply wince at Sunny's physical prod, instinctively covering their injury with a hand. "Nah," Party sluggishly waves in Sunny's direction. Their breath suddenly hitches, catching violently in their throat.

Staring at the red staining their hand, they momentarily pause. Maybe it's worse than what they originally assumed. In their defense, it was difficult to tell in the moment with adrenaline coursing through their body. A chill settles and for an instant, they're transported back to THAT hallway.

Bare-flavorless walls glare back at them. Flashes of the firefight illuminate surfaces in a glint of red-orange. Swarmed by dracs, their ears ring with the sound of raygun fire. They can feel Kobra behind them, pressed against their back as he returns fire. Glimpses of Jet and Ghoul dart across their peripheral vision.

They blink. Returning to themself in a steady beat. Party slumps into the nearest booth, nearly boneless. Defeated. "Yea." They peel away their covering hand to reveal the cut. Which turns out to be a deep gash on their left side, just below their ribs.

"There. Can I have the kit so I can patch myself up, please?"

[hittheredline]

  He used to carry a knife on him everywhere, too. Can't remember when he stopped, or why, but Party's sits in his palm familiar enough for this anyway. Good weight, steady grip. It should do. But first, down into the ditch. He jumps, sticks the landing with arms out a little ways for balance. Boot to spines: he kicks down, scaling sharp splinters off a section of the gnarled old cactus without care for if they break. There's plenty more to recover for Sunny from the rest of it. Party can do that, if they want, or make collections of anything valuable after the fact. For now he's got one goal and it's destruction.

  As soon as there's a suitable enough clearing, Kobra crouches down and starts cutting into the base of the thing. He's got a loose plan, but he hasn't exactly made a hobby out of this. He's got no idea if it's going to work. Just a knife and something to prove.

  “Cut out this side,” he explains roughly, between slashes at the tough plant matter, “kick it over from the other?”

[desertpoison]

Party follows close behind. At the edge of the ditch, they press their weight into the very tips of their boots so they skid down the decline. A cloud of sandy dust is kicked up in their wake. It faintly swirls around them as they reach the end. The King rapidly collects their balance to prevent a face-full of cactus spikes. Kobra begins to dismantle the succulent, much to Party's enjoyment. Distantly, they can recall the feeling of those pesky stabbing spines jabbing into their arm.

Their trickster grin is persistent as they round the plant. "Ain't so shiny, is it?" They mutter, directed to it. Gaze rising to their brother, Party teasingly winks, "Just be sure to move, yea? Wouldn't wanna kick it over into ya." Some part of them does giggle at the mental image, but they're not that morbid to actually carry through with it. Straightening their posture, Party delivers a solid kick, with one foot, to the weakened base.

It subtly groans at the impact, toppling over onto the desert sand. Something round-ish and brightly vivid catches their eye, standing out amongst the succulent's green. "Hey Kobes," they approach the fallen half, bending down to inspect further. "Wasn't spiny fruit one of the first things we ate out here?"

[lcfthaunted]

Mazie's grin turns sly. “Thought you were ‘just another ‘joy’,” she taunts. Besides, she doesn’t have many questions for them, not really. Her interests lie in the social rules that govern the desert; rules that, as a recognized king of sorts, Party is by and large exempt from. She’s not even particularly interested in the King and his crew, either as a dynamic or as individual people. And the one of their number she does want to inspect under a microscope, she knows she can’t trust Party’s opinion of him. She’s well aware of how older siblings are prone to overlooking the shortcomings of younger ones.

Mazie turns to face them more fully, leaning in as well. Her pale eyes are piercing, almost cruel. “Alright. Here’s your question, Big Man On Campus. Is it lonely, at the top? Is there anywhere you can go where the crowd doesn’t immediately part for you? Where the drinks aren’t free, and the girls aren’t easy? You got anyone in your life willing to put in the work to learn who you are, instead’a deciding they already know? Do you got anywhere, besides that diner you call home, where you’re a person instead of a figurehead?” There’s the barest edge to her voice of bitterness borne from experience that she can’t quite mask.

[desertpoison]

Who is the infamous Party Poison? Beneath the vivid colors and fearless persona, WHO are they? Those questions aren't easily answered. Their personal vulnerabilities are held close to their chest, guarded by layers of fortified protection. Peeling apart such formidable defenses takes time, patience, and dedication. Whatever fragments of themself still exist are sheltered (if not, entirely gone).

Among Killjoys, they stand out like neon colors in the dark. They possess too much individuality, too much reputation to be considered 'just another 'joy'. The City feared them, and not just any ordinary 'joy is capable of that. However, in many circles, they suppose such a phrase might suit them.

While Mazie's questions might have caused anyone else's hackles to rise, Party's reaction is different. A roguish smirk creeps across their features, hazel eyes glinting with note of cleverness in the light. "Surprisingly, the answer to those questions are 'yes'."

They have their spot in the desert, where it's quiet and lacks crowds. Where they can sit in the silence and simply gaze up at the sky and marvel at the vastness (or drink themself to sleep it the Widow, depends on the day really). There's a handful of carefully chosen people who know who they are (Kobra, Jet, Ghoul, Sunny, Dr. D, Show Pony, Red). Their attention shifts to their nails, inspecting them closely. "Very bold of you to assume I just like girls, sunshine. The last time I got laid wasn't by a girl."

[camojacketfrank]

[desertpoison]

SO! I got a Danger Days tattoo!!!!!

It’s a little ode to Party, fighting for what you believe in, and art being a weapon.

[hittheredline]

  The same. He's prepared to take their word for it, not really sure of the shape of the thing enough by memory alone. This is the same, or close enough. Then he climbs out of passenger seat and sees the flag, not very high up because he only had so much height and not enough strength, then, to really get into the branches, and. The headlights light the base of the tree, though the arms still stretch into shadow, misshapen by the nature of the tree itself, but something seems... off as Kobra looks at it. Then he sees it. Them.

  He sees flags.

  Not just his tattered little strip of sleeve but dozens of others. He answers Party by gesturing up with his face and brow - look at that. Look up. They're all still, just now, no wind to flutter them, but the longer he looks the more of them he sees. Up and up, most of them far higher than he'd managed to get. Different lengths, colors, materials. Some like ribbons, others like strings. Weathered and frayed, most of them, but hanging on. So he'd been the first, but who the second? Who after? Did they know why, or..? Chills race down his arms, raising bumps. His heart beating hard and solidly in his chest.

  “I think fuck that cactus,” he says. Can't have it stabbing anyone else who made it this far, right? Not if they're gonna climb. He slugs his jacket off, into the seat. “C'mon,” a shade of.. something lighter. Almost-mischief. “It's one bitch-bush and we're immortal.” How hard can it be? “Got a knife on ya?” as he backs toward the thing, new life in his step.

[desertpoison]

Every gust of wind causes the makeshift banners to wiggle. They've become more than just tattered pieces of fabric. They're now flags, symbols representing triumph against the place that once caged them. Surrounded by others, Kobra's is no longer alone on the branches.

Party's features reflect the sheer amazement to such a spectacle. Pride fills them, the warmth filling their stomach and traveling upwards. Their lips curve upwards into a wide smile.

Oh, Kobra.

There were others who came this way, fleeing from the City's greedy control.

Each one represents a soul who were lucky enough to escape. Like Kobra, they've made their mark and presence known. Just by appearance alone, Party can make out which one belonged to their brother. The most weathered one, no doubt the oldest. The identities of the others are unknown; it feels right for it to stay that way.

Just like a switch flipped, Kobra's demeanor changes. Party gives themself a mental pat on the back. A mischievous grin makes its appearance known now. "Yah," they reach down to the outside of their right boot. Tucked within a small buckled sheath, rests a hidden knife. It dances between their fingers as it's twirled by the Rat King.

"Ain't been anywhere without it." They offer it to Kobra, handle first. It's helped turn the tide in many close firefights. "We should bring back any fruit on that prickly bastard. Guess it's good for somethin' other than stickin' spikes in people."

Allowing their memory to guide them, Party begins to walk in the direction of the aforementioned cactus. "There should be a ditch," they mumble.

The ground suddenly divots beneath their feet. "Righttt here." They feel themself abruptly slide downwards, balance maintained instead of being lost (like the first time). Standing before them, the cactus stands tall as if mocking them. It's no doubt grown since the last time they've seen it.

[hollowprompts]

` * 𝐈𝐍𝐉𝐔𝐑𝐘 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐃 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐒 : a mix of dialogue and action prompts. sent "+ reverse" to reverse the roles.

𝐃𝐈𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄 :

➔ you're gonna be okay , just keep your eyes on me. ➔ don't move - you're going to make it worse. ➔ it's not that bad. ➔ you saved me once before , now it's my turn. ➔ you fucking idiot , you weren't supposed to take the hit for me. ➔ i told you not to do that! now look! ➔ you're lucky that i know basic first aid , or you'd be dead! ➔ stay with me, okay? stay awake. ➔ i'll be as gentle as i can be , i promise. ➔ you're bleeding - oh my god , you're bleeding. ➔ you told me it was a scratch , this is not a fucking scratch! ➔ there's so much blood. ➔ next time you want to play here , just don't. ➔ stop fighting me and let me help! ➔ you're banned from doing anything remotely dangerous. ➔ you could have died , what were you thinking? ➔ if you die on me , i'm going to be pissed off. ➔ you didn't have to be so reckless just to prove a fucking point. ➔ the wound will heal but you'll have a scar.

𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 :

[ carry ] sender carries receivers muse to safety after finding them injured. [ stitch ] sender stitches receivers wound. [ hand ] sender holds receivers hand during a painful procedure. [ wound ] sender cleans receivers wounds with gentle and shaky hands. [ panic ] sender panics while trying to stop receiver's bleeding. [ patch ] sender patches receiver up using makeshift materials (i.e. torn shirt). [ fire ] sender drags receiver out of a burning building. [ pressure ] sender puts deep pressure on receivers wound while yelling for help. [ mouth ] sender gives receiver mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. [ change ] sender helps receiver change out of bloodied clothes. [ wash ] sender helps wash dried blood off of receivers face. [ shower ] sender helps receiver shower after an injury. [ broken ] sender tries to stabilize receivers broken limb with rope and sticks.

[busyw0man]

⋆｡‧˚ʚ💋ɞ˚‧｡⋆ 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐭𝐡𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 (usft dialouge prompts)

❝ i’m not letting you sleep tonight. ❞

❝ i want to wreck you so good you forget your own name. ❞

❝ don't hold back i want it all. ❞

❝ you started this. now finish it. ❞

❝ get over here and take it. ❞

❝ you look better underneath me. ❞

❝ i’m going to ruin you for anyone else. ❞

❝ be a good thing and open up for me. ❞

❝ let me hear how much you need it. ❞

❝ i want to memorize every sound you make. ❞

❝ you're shaking already? we’re just getting started. ❞

❝ strip. now. ❞

❝ i’m going to have you begging for mercy. ❞

❝ you make the prettiest sounds when you break. ❞

❝ spread your legs for me. ❞

❝ you look so pretty when you’re desperate. ❞

❝ stay still or i’ll make you. ❞

❝ you’re not allowed to come until i say so. ❞

❝ don’t think. just feel. ❞

❝ tell me how bad you need it. ❞

❝ you're not leaving this bed until i'm done with you. ❞

❝ you look so good when you're falling apart. ❞

❝ i’m going to leave you trembling. ❞

❝ stay nice and loud for me, sweetheart. ❞

❝ such a needy little thing, aren’t you? ❞

❝ i want every last drop of you. ❞

❝ no one else gets to see you like this. only me. ❞

❝ i’ll go slow... if you beg. ❞

❝ don’t even think about holding back your moans. ❞

❝ if you can still think, i’m not doing it right. ❞

❝ this isn’t over until you’re completely ruined. ❞

❝ you’re going to take everything i give you. ❞

❝ i’m not stopping until you're shaking and crying for me. ❞

❝ hands behind your back. i want to control everything. ❞

❝ so needy. so messy. so perfect. ❞

❝ you're dripping already? god, you’re filthy. ❞

❝ say you're mine while i ruin you. ❞

❝ you’re going to be sore tomorrow and you’ll be begging for more. ❞

❝ i’ll make you feel so good you’ll forget how to breathe. ❞

❝ look at you, falling apart just for me. ❞

❝ cry for me. i want to see it. ❞

❝ you’ll be thinking about this every time you touch yourself. ❞

❝ you're not allowed to come until you’re crying. ❞

❝ you don't get to decide when it's over. i do. ❞

❝ i’m going to fuck you until you forget your own name. ❞

❝ let me see you lose control. ❞

❝ i’ll ruin you so good, you’ll be ruined for anyone else. ❞