#deathwritten

[notasaviour-blog1]

“----Honey,  why  are  you  crying,  is  everything  okay?  I  gotta  whisper  'cause  I  can't  be  too  loud... Well,  my  girl's  in  the  next  room.”

lips of an angel by hinder // @deathwritten

[nobodiesgovernor-ar]

                     ❛   MISS ---- YOU CAN’T BE HERE  .  ❜    his arm raises forth to seek the woman’s attention  .  his legs, much like hers in past time, hop over yellow warning tape as feet plant on the pavement  . it’s a fresh crime scene  .  gawkers common making the effort to sneak around for a peak  .  hoping for BLOOD or a body  .  if they were lucky they’d see a corpse  .  sometimes a call didn’t come through in time  .  most of the time everything was cleared  .  ❛  unless y’have a badge on you of some sort of agency, y’gotta step back this place is OFF LIMITS  .  ❜  

@deathwritten liked for a starter  . 

[killedpeople]

@deathwritten

rick has judith in his arms, “i’m startin’ ta’ think she likes you.” he says, watching as his daughter reached for her. “ya’ wanna hold her?” he asks her, smiling faintly. he’d be putting judith down for a nap soon anyways, olivia would take care of watching her.

[quelledmyrage-blog]

“sweet elena gilbert.  to what do I OWE the pleasure?”

deathwritten liked THIS for a starter.

[forgedleader]

send 📚 for a dialogue starter from a random book page. @deathwritten.

          ❛           we have to be real careful right now.          ❜

[lockpup-archive-blog]

&. @deathwritten​ | starter call.

   “mornin’ sunshine.” 

[forgedleader]

♟

*  non-sexual acts of intimacy.   always accepting.

♟  ↷  PATCHING UP A WOUND.

          convulsion gives him away,  marble veneer crumbling under strain     ———     and he curses himself for it,  teeth clenching until his jaw becomes a stubbornly defined ridge.           it doesn’t hurt,  his mental mantra reminds him,  and though he’s not squeamish,  he looks away as she improvises a tourniquet with commendable efficiency.           later on,  he’ll admit with a grunt that she’d done a better job than he could have hoped to achieve on his own.           but for now,  he applies pressure as instructed,  fingertips leaving behind opal-shaped bruises imprinted into his skin,  knuckles bone-white and raw,  tinged with cerise.

          ❛          that’s fine   ;   that’s enough.          we have to get going.          ❜          whatever stability he manages to achieve in his words is frail,  teetering on a delicate thread that is severed and bleeding red and ugly.          he’s not used to being saved,  nor being vulnerable     ———     he protects,  his mission failed,  ambushed by his very mortality.          when he gets up,  his recklessness counter-acting her caution,  his footsteps are more tender than he’d like,  his weight crashing into her side just a little more than he wants to have to rely upon.           ❛           c’mon,  i’m fine.           walk.          ❜

           and they walk,  him limping and her encumbered,  and the thought crosses his mind for an instant that he’s hindering her,  that she should go on without obstruction.          he wills it away,  laboured breaths seizing his focus before he can dwell.          ❛           and don’t even      ...     think about saying you told me so.          ❜