#ofchaught

@ofchaught​ sent 🔴   9. your muse catching my muse drinking blood — pam w/ any of your muses

A    BLOOD   LUST    INBOX    MEME.   

(   send  me   ‘   🔴   ’   to  generate  a  bloody  scenario  between  our  muses.  feel  free  to  SPECIFY  A  NUMBER  if  you’d  like..   )

Status: ACCEPTING

The smell of the blood is what Tara notices first. A delicious smell that has a burning forming in her throat and her fangs aching, desperate for something more than synthetic blood. Pam is feeding from some poor woman and Tara’s eyes are transfixed on the blood pouring from the neck.

Cut it out, Tara!

Mentally she scolds herself but physically, she can not turn away. Fuck, she wants some of that blood. Deep breathe in, deep breathe out, and she’s turning her gaze away from it - hiding the way her fangs are now on display. “God damn it, Pam. Can’t you do that shit somewhere else?” 

Three days. That’s how long Finley had been locked in her apartment, spiraling. Not drinking because ---- well, that was the problem, wasn’t it? She was always so fucking careful. She’d been on birth control since she was fourteen years old, and having somewhat reckless sex pretty much ever since. But she wasn’t stupid. No matter how drunk she was, she never let anyone near her without protection, that was a rule she never broke. 

And yet -- it seemed the world just wanted to fuck her over just a little bit more. As if she wasn’t broken enough already. 

She’d known it within a week. She couldn’t explain how, she just knew. Knew something was different. All the tests said she should wait at least two weeks, but she couldn’t. She had to know. And there it was: the faintest of little pink lines. And Finley’s whole world came crashing down around her. 

So for three days, she mourned. She cried, screamed, threw things. But didn’t drink. Because she wouldn’t inflict her failures upon anyone else. 

That morning, she’d done another test, the line appearing darker this time, confirming her worst fears, Finley’s heart feeling like it was in the pit of her stomach. She’d needed to get out of her apartment, suddenly feeling like she was being smothered. But she didn’t want to be alone any more, needed...someone. Which left really only one person: Elise. Probably Finley’s only real friend. 

it’d been late when she left her client’s house, her notebook filled with scribbles and a faint outline of the client’s wishes she would work on as soon as she got home. at least, that had been the plan. the street was badly lit, lanterns flickered as a storm was heading her way, but she could see enough that there was no single soul out on the streets like she was. truth be told, it was late. midnight had struck, an inconvenient time for the blonde to still be out and about, but tonight she had no choice. clients were customers with wishes anais couldn’t deny, little did she know soon she would have no single customer to tend to. not in her career of choice, anyways. soon all the lights turned to black and she lost consciousness quicker than lightning.

her vision was blurry, non existent in the darkness she was surrounded by. there was a loud engine rumbling. as she came by, the noise grew louder, like she was in the back of a truck. trapped in the trunk and panic started to kick in. unable to make a noise of any sort, she started kicking the trunk in the hope a light would get kicked out or the trunk would magically open. and just like that, the truck came to a halt and she stopped out of fear. had the driver heard her? what was going on?

before she could scream, cry out or start kicking again, the trunk opened with no second to spare. rough hands pulled her out and she got thrown onto the cold, hard pavement. and that’s when she felt it. the throbbing in her cheek that made it clear she got knocked out by force. the small cut on her arm she got just now from the pavement and her head started spinning. but not bad enough to see, to look around her and get up in a hurry without falling back down again. ‘’wh—where am i? what — what is this?’’ she tried to shout, but it came out like a mere cry, a weak trembling voice was all she had left.

@ofchaught​ sent [chin] - to tilt my muse’s chin up to make them look at your muse — nicole for waverly

With everything that has been going on lately - finding out about her heritage, being gone for so long, and everything else that has been piling up and up ontop of everything, maybe Waverly is a little more distracted than she’d like to admit

@ofchaught​ sent ☹ for wayhaught or doccubus

Send me “ ☹ ”, and I’ll generate a number between 1-75 to see where/how my muse is injured. Send “ ☹ ⇋ ”, and it’s your character living the pain. The third option would be “ ☹ ☹ “ to have both wounded (in which case first generated number will be for my muse and second for yours).Tw for possible blood and gore!

32. A long gash across their back

A case gone COMPLETELY BAD, a hostile fae had managed to get the best of her. As good as Bo is at her job and taking care of fae problems when people need her help, she’s not invincable. 

Crimson blood stains the fabric around the wound, a large tear in the black clothing on her back. It’s one long gash that looks like it could have come from a sword. It hurts to move but she has to, she has to keep going - she needs help.

Lauren. Lauren can help her. She hates having to take Chi from her to heal but it’s the best way for to heal and if this isn’t healed soon, she’s going to pass out. By the time she gets to Lauren, she feels weak - DIZZY - and can barely stand.

Later on, Dani would ask her how she knew. But honestly, Harlow couldn’t explain it, couldn’t put it into words. It was just...a feeling. A feeling that something was different. At first, she thought it was just something that she’d eaten, or even just something in her head. After all, it had been a long year, and perhaps she was just exhausted. But a few days passed, and the feeling stayed with her. 

And so she found herself sitting over the toilet, having tracked down one of the last remaining pregnancy tests that had been pushed to the back of the bathroom cupboard. They’d stopped testing after each inseminations attempt months ago, neither of them being able to handle the repeated disappointment. It was just easier to wait for their appointments, letting the doctors break the news that it hadn’t taken, that they weren’t pregnant. At least the doctors always assured them that they still had options, and helped them start on the plan for next time. 

Honestly, Harlow wasn’t sure why she was even doing the test... did she really expect a different result this time? How many of those tests had been discarded as the pair fell into each other’s arms, tears shed as they mourned the family they were struggling to create? And yet, she couldn’t help herself, the smallest spark of hope in her heart. Things just felt...different this time. 

And then Harlow saw it, something that had never appeared before: that thin pink line. Her heart stopped in her chest, the brunette’s breath catching in her throat, hand coming up to her mouth. It couldn’t be real... could it?