bakerstreet | YOU WANT, UH, A TISSUE? MAYBE SOME SOAP? NEW CLOTHES?

YOU WANT, UH, A TISSUE? MAYBE SOME SOAP? NEW CLOTHES?

COVERED IN BLOOD MEME

So you're a bit of a mess. Or you're stumbling upon a mess. What happened? There's blood everywhere, what the hell? Is it your blood, animal blood, the blood of someone you murdered? Hell, maybe you ran out of tampons. Anyway, no matter how it got there, you're (or someone you know is) covered in blood. Can it be explained away? If not, is someone going to prison? The hospital? Going to die of blood loss? Get in trouble for playing catch with the blood bags? Man, we don't know. The point is you have a mess to clean up. Or roll around in gleefully, you nasty fucks.

• Top level your character. Include any details you might think are relevant. Or don't. As always, we're not the cops.
• Reply to other people's top levels!
• While this meme is bound to have a lot of potentially triggering content, content warnings for anything ott or very extreme are probably a good idea!
• Have fun!

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If they had been in a similar situation and Trowa hadn't been injured, Quatre might have made the same comment. But it didn't stop him from thinking it and repressing a smirk.

Quatre was already wet, and his pajamas quickly getting soaked and stained from the mix of blood and off-spray from the shower head. He didn't seem to care though as he focused on cleaning up Trowa. It took several passes, as was injuries Trowa did have were cleaned and started bleeding again. "You really made a mess of yourself this time, didn't you?" he teased as he turned off the water and put Trowa's arm around his shoulders again.

The blond pulled him out of the shower and wrapped a towel around his waist, not caring that they would be blood stained by the end of this. He sat Trowa down and began to gently dry him with one of the spare towels, taking care around him injuries. Deep purple bruises were already formed on Trowa's ribs and shoulders made him worry. Taking the medkit from under the sink, Quatre set to work with alcohol, needle and thread, gauze, and wraps, trying to patch Trowa back together as best he could.

Overdramatic was definitely the name of the game in that moment, but Seth couldn't help himself. Using the knife as he was, counting on his own skills not to end up using the damn thing to hurt Kate in ways that she had defended herself to keep from even happening.

Eventually they were going to have to get rid of the body, ditch the hotel, and find a new place to stay. Eventually was after he kept playing the injured party in a moment that had definitely not hurt him except in leaving him fearful o what would happen if he lost the woman before him.

He was expecting her to pull away, to yell and scream. He was waiting for her to turn and be out that door before he even had a chance to stop her. If she had done exactly that, he wouldn't have been surprised. He wasn't sure if he would have followed her after either, so when she didn't pull away, instead moving in closer as he had asked, Seth nearly made a sound when he exhaled.

Instead he reached out, moving closely as he let his fingers trace up her arm once more, moving in another step to try and pull her into his arms. "Hey. You did good," he murmured softly. "You saved your life, which means I'm not standing here alone and about to go out and shooting spree," he said, not really sure he was saying this right, but damn he wasn't sure squishing her like some monster in a Bugs Bunny cartoon and trying not to get snot in her hair from crying was the right answer either.

Well, something must have. Blood doesn't usually just appear and douse somebody out of nowhere (though it's been known to happen if you get on the wrong side of the wrong witch or spirit.)

"Wait, what?" He'd been half-turned to head off in search of those towels, but swivels back at that and comes back to his friend, looking him over worriedly. "Nothing? Cas, you sure you're not hurt? You feel like you got hit in the head or something?"

No, that wouldn't be it, he realizes even as he's asking the question. Amneisa from a blow to the head's pretty rare even among humans; he's not sure anything on this planet could hit an angel hard enough to cause it without straight-up splattering his vessel in the process.

Then his eyes drop to his own blood-slicked hand, then the gore all over Cas, and he frowns. "Or could it be this stuff...?" As he tries to remember if he's ever seen anything in the lore about something with blood that wipes peoples' memories. "What's the last thing you do remember clearly, before you showed up here?"

Edited 2017-02-28 02:15 (UTC)

Trowa continued to hold onto the wall the best he could as Quatre washed him. He was beginning to hurt now that the adrenaline was wearing off. He could feel the bruises and the cuts on his skin. He had tried to avoid their weapons but there had been too many of them.

"I don't usually have to fight in that situation." This was said in response to him making a mess. He hated to worry Quatre. He really did. Unfortunately there was no other option at the moment.

Trowa followed the prompts to move and sit down as Quatre began to care for him. He vaguely knew that Quatre's towels and his clothes were or were going to be stained by the time they were done, but as long as Quatre didn't say anything, any apology could wait. As Quatre pulled out the medkit and began to close some of the bigger wounds, he hissed at the added pain, but did nothing to stop Quatre.

[Walking is - harder than anticipated but Shiro isn't giving up yet either. He forces one foot in front of the other, dragging them if necessary and moves as fast as he can - which isn't anywhere near as fast as he'd like to. He can't smell anything but blood so that's no help but he does notice that Keith's limping and favoring his side. Teeth grit, breathing through drawn back lips in short pants, Shiro doesn't have the energy to keep his head up - and it gives him a good view of Keith's side.

He's going to scold him for that.

Once they're safely out of here.

Which is going to be a tight thing if the sound of shouts and running footsteps Shiro can tinnely hear down the hallway is any indication. The team's coming but Shiro doesn't know how far away they are. Red always was the fastest and driven by Keith's impatience, Shiro thinks it could make itself go even faster. He is not going to let another one of his team get captured just because he's too slow.]

Ditch me in a corner somewhere. They won't have the man power to look for me if I'm hiding. Get back to Red and come back with the others.

[While Saya had been living with Rihan since they made it official, he would go home every now and then to help out at the restaurant. One moment he was making a grocery run and the next he was out and woke up in an unfamiliar place. He thought he was dreaming with the images he had seen - people that didn't seem as human as others and such. From what he had learned from Rihan, the news of them being youkai didn't surprise him but it had him at a scare still. They tried to get information out of him that he didn't have and with every assertion came a few kicks and punches that left bruises on his body and his left eye becoming a black one.

It had been maybe half a day that he had been enduring this while his legs and arms were tied to the chair. The sun was just barely setting, from what he could tell. (Ironically, the beatings he used to get would happen in the daylight too...albeit in the shadows.) Despite the fear beaten into him, he did try to find an opportunity to escape. Just as he started to struggle with the ropes, Rihan had shown up.

It all happened so fast as Saya's fast turned pale at the sight that he was forced to watch. The rest of the manor soon grew quiet, which had him guessing the others had been killed too.

Rihan did tell him that he had killed others before. Saya just never imagined he would become someone that even he could barely recognize. The blond's throat felt dry as he swallowed to get himself to speak.]

...Rihan?

"We can't just leave them," Scott said. He proceeded through the tunnel until he reached what seemed to be a maintenance door or some kind. The smell was getting stronger and he could see a bloodied handprint on thr door and some splatter over the ground. He hesitantly reached out to check if the door was unlocked. Which it were. Hesitantly he pressee down the he handle and yanked the door open slightly. The smell of closed in space and blood hit him. He then looked over at Stiles, seeking approval of continuing.

Scott was right, they couldn’t just leave them. “I know,” Stiles said as he continued to follow Scott. He knew they couldn’t just turn around and leave them there. They needed help and that’s what they were going to do. Help. “That doesn’t look good.” A bloody handprint never meant anything good. Stiles didn’t need wolf senses to smell that after Scott opened the door. It was a mixture of stale air and blood. And it didn’t smell good. And as much as he didn’t want to go in there, he gave Scott a look that said, go ahead, I’m right behind you.

[Keith took only a tic to figure out where they were coming from, but he didn't let go of Shiro just yet. It was rare for him to outright defy the older Paladin, but...]

No. I'm not leaving you.

[He was stubborn.]

"...First, you come here and let me give you something to eat and to drink."

Then, she would try to get a bit more useful information out of the child. But if there was one thing that every Elf would agree on, it would be that all children of all free peoples were precious and should be cared for as well as possible, and Elf children doubly so. Strangers they might be, but she'd still do her best by the girl.

"Come." She pulled her sleeping roll from her horse and spread it on the ground for the girl to sit on.

I couldn't leave you there.

[And that's weird.

He doesn't usually get sentimental attacks like that anymore, hasn't really been prone to them for ...many centuries now, with his humanity running lower and lower. But in the end the reason for him getting the younger male out of there was exactly that. A sentiment attack. It's curious.]

You resemble one of my sons when he was little.

If it's that much of an effort, then don't stay awake. [ He's the one that didn't want to fall asleep with blood all over his clothes, but then that's one of the little quirks about Egil that no longer surprises him. If the situation wasn't so bad, he might have even smiled. ]

Somewhere safe. [ The Factory has safe houses scattered all over, and right now they're desperately in need of a place to hole up where no one can find them, somewhere Egil can wait out the effects of the bite. And while Amaris comes to mind, he doesn't think it's such a good idea to be around another vampire right now.

The drive passes in something of a blur. It doesn't feel long before he's pulling up to an old sublot of buildings, parking along the side and reaching below to unattach the wires he'd haphazardly twisted together. The car needs to be taken care of, as does the body of the vampire left behind. The murder is too obvious, and while it will be of little concern to the humans, it could start something ugly between the other types of species roaming about.

He makes a quick phone call to request a cleaner, then pushes his door open, circling around to the passenger side. Leaning in, he gently moves his shirt to examine the bite. ] Awake?

If wounds are not taken care of quickly they can get worse quickly. [But he was sure she knew it but it was how he attempted to express concern. He wasn't used to being worried considering he often just left Ren laying bleeding in the hallway, only pausing to step over his prone body.]

Once you're clean we can go over the details over tea. I think Ren isn't due back until next cycle. [And that meant a rare moment of peace and quiet.]

[That one word was enough to make Rihan come to his senses. The dark aura around him faded away and his eyes returned to normal. The anger in his face got replaced with concern and remorse as he turned to look at the human.]

Masaki...

[Somewhere along the lines where Saya had moved in with him, he had started to call him by first name. Always having been a casual person it was a miracle in itself that he had gone on to call the other by his family name for so long.

Reaching out a hand to touch Saya, Rihan stopped himself. There was blood on his hands. How terrifying had he been in his enraged stage? How terrifying was he still. This was a part of himself he foolishly had hoped Saya never would have to see. It wasn't easy to get him that angry, but if something he loved got threatened he snapped. He had lost a love in the past and did not want to live through that pain again.

Limply he let his hand fall back to his side, looking torn up by what just transpired.] I'm sorry. This should never have happened.

[Quickly drying off the blood from his hands on what was left of his yukata, Rihan worked the knots that kept Saya in place lose. He just wanted to pull him into an embrace and say that everything would be fine now, but with him still bleeding that seemed like a bad idea.]

How are you feeling? Where did they hurt you?

I--- [He can't quite control the twitch, or the slight widening of his eyes as he looks up at Ragnar, then immediately looks away. He doesn't turn away, doesn't even lean deeper into the couch where the shadow pooling in the crevice between the back and seat cushion has become darker and heavier for a moment.

There's the urge to, certainly, something between old hurt and the pleasure that this man was, hopefully a better father than his had been able to be.]

Oh. Well, thanks. [He's already said it, but it spills out again anyway, and he shifts uncomfortably on the couch. Wonders if, if he'd bothered to shift into the fully human guise he can only use here there would have been any resemblance... Doesn't matter.]

Hope I can measure up. [Now, he can at least manage a grin. And Rokuta has, by now, somehow managed to migrate to sitting on the couch arm instead of on the couch.] I'm Rokuta.

Quatre's face contorted as Trowa hissed and moaned in pain. By now he knew better than to offer Trowa something for the pain. The pilot was stubborn and would adamantly refuse any form of pain killer. It didn't make putting him in more pain any easier on the blond.

"It doesn't seem to have worked this time." he teased. "Maybe it's time you found a new line of work."

Working from Trowa's head down, the process was slow as Trowa had acquired more than a handful of injuries.

Tauriel had no reason not to trust this stranger, but she hesitated for a moment before accepting. She had, after all, been told to run. However, the logical part of her mind knew she could not do so forever.

Not to mention she suddenly realized she did not know how long it had been since she ate or had something to drink, and the offer was awfully tempting. Besides that, she was exhausted, and at the moment, she did not think she could continue even if she tried.

And so she sat, looking rather unsure of herself, glancing around as if she expected something to jump out of the trees at her at any moment. Still, she remembered her manners, and inclined her head politely. "Thank you." She said quietly.

She then watched her newfound companion closely, observing her. "You are not from these woods, are you?"

There was something in the way she moved that told her that. She was not sure what exactly it was, but there was definitely something different.

That took a moment for Castiel to process. Ah, Adam was speaking as if he was still in the Cage, which was definitely causing confusion between them. "You are not in the Cage anymore. I don't know why."

"My head is..." He intends to say fine, but that's not quite true. There's no pain in his head, certainly, but there's a fuzzy sort of confusion that's slowing him down a bit. "...I don't think I hit my head," he says instead.

Dean's looking at him intently, worrying over the blood, and Cas looks down at himself and simply stares at his hands for a moment. Yes, some of this blood is his; a gash on his torso is slowly healing and his knuckles are scraped raw. There had been a fight of some sort and it's disturbing on a fundamentally deep level that he cannot remember it.

His brow furrows. "I was looking for Kelly Kline." Which he does every free moment, so that doesn't really narrow it down at all. "There were odd events in Grandview, Missouri. I think I went there."

Anything after that, until walking into the bunker, is a blank.

Trowa could deal with pain. He did it probably more often than he should have so Quatre stitching up his injuries was nothing. He wouldn't have taken any pain medication. He rarely did unless it was really bad. That was the point where he probably wouldn't have been walking around.

Trowa was quite for a moment then said "Perhaps. But not something too boring."

He didn't move while Quatre took care of him, appreciating the assistance.

"I've had this dream before. Nothing gets out of the cage, just Sam, not me." He furrowed his brow, still mostly talking to himself. "Is this another reminder of that?"

Castiel frowned, trying not to feel too guilty about leaving Adam behind when he'd taken Sam from the Cage. "You are not listening to me, Adam. I know where Sam is. I can take you there."

Scott nodded back at Stiles and stepped inside and found himself looking down a flight of stair which lead down. A flickering light illuminated the room, for better and worse. It made the trail of blood down the stairs much closer aswell as the occasional splatter onto the walls. He got a sinking feeling in his chest. There was a lot of blood. "Down we go then," he breathed out and looked back at Stiles, wondering if he was feeling as sick as he was.

Stiles went inside and made sure to keep the door wide open, just in case they needed to turn around and run from anything that might want to attack them. “Is it just me or does this feel like a really horrible horror movie?” The place already felt creepy enough and the flickering lights was just adding to the atmosphere. And, of course, let’s not forget the blood splattered here and there on the walls. “After you,” he said as he motioned for Scott to keep on leading the way.

As they walked down the stairs, he put his hand down on the railing and then quickly pulled back when he felt something sticky. “Oh, ew.” He looked at his hand, which now had blood on it. “I don’t like this, Scott.” It seemed like the further down they went the more blood they were seeing.

"It really does, doesn't it? But usually the monster is the werewolf not the protagonist," he joked in an attempt to make light of the situation. But it sure was creepy and like a B-film horror movie. Or game. He didn't protest wen Stiles asked him to lead the way, knowing that he would be safer that way.

They descended down the stairs. As Stiles yelped, he looked over with a sympathetic look. "I don't either buddy," he said but pressed on. Even if his every fiber told him to turn around and call the comps he couldn't. Someone could be injured or dying or attacked.

After a few more minutes they reached the bottom floor. There was a corridor leading of into the distance and a trail of blood along the right wall. At least no lamps were flickering but it still smelled stale.
"I wonder where this even leads?" he commented and looked over at Stiles.

Edited 2017-03-01 09:22 (UTC)

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Page 11 of 23

YOU WANT, UH, A TISSUE? MAYBE SOME SOAP? NEW CLOTHES?

I WILL. QUATRE'S GOING TO SMOTHER HIM.

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NOOO!

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YUS

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