#writwove

[irisili0]

I don’t trust easily, yet I get attached too quickly.

[violeteyedkiller]

"What are you drinking at an hour like this?" from bobby. old feelas...

Unprompted (?) Ask || Always Accepting

"....Coffee."

Yep. Just plain coffee. Totally isn't blood, cocoa nibs, and Baileys in there too. At 3am. Shush.

@writwove

[cr4zedgunz]

📝 + DC or other comics

Send me “📝 + (fandom)” and I’ll reply with a character I would RP from that fandom

So! I already write Edward Nygma, Adrian ( you're here! :0 ) and have dabbled in Clark ( all-star superman based ), Bruce & Tim on discord ... but if I were to choose someone I haven't already written then probably Harvey Dent or Roy Harper for very different reasons!!

Other comics entirely ... Nailbiter for sure! And if we're talking Marvel then besides my dearest Scott Lang I would probably pick up Harry Osborn again!

[daemonsdaed]

sources say she never danced again...

cherry & economos / @writwove

[cr4zedgunz]

@writwove     :    "You're  bleeding.  OH  MY  GOD  -  you're  bleeding!"  from  Economos

HE  DRAWS  HIS    vision  below,  following  the  trail  of  crimson  through  the  end  of  his  shirt.    It's  a  keen  observation  on  the  other's  part.    It's  not  something  you'd  be  looking  for  -  someone  bleeding  in  their  civies.    It's  only  fair  Adrian  gives  him  a  little  confirmation.     "Yeah!  I  didn't  think  it  was  too  obvious,  but  I  guess  I  am."     Head  draws  up,  giving  John  something  between  a  smile  and  a  reassuring  nod.  Some  inflection  of     you  got  it  right     about  the  mannerism.  He  doesn't  see  the  point  in  stating  it  as  it  is,     but  there's  something  nice  about  knowing  his  injury  is  of  some  note.

"I  got  shot  sometime  this  morning.  No  biggie.  Other  guy's  dead,  anyway."  Adrian  decides  to  provide,     context  seeming  rather  complete  to  him,    there,  against  all  odds.    "Just  didn't  dress  it  too  well  'cause  I  was  on  the  run.  You  know  how  it  is!"

[clochanam]

"Cold?" from ezekiel, he's got a bigass overcoat

send me  “cold?” to wrap a jacket around aisling’s shoulders. ( ACCEPTING! ) / @writwove

she's not entirely sure if she'll ever get used to new york winters. something in them is far sharper and more unrelenting than the kinds of cold that ireland musters up. cold in ireland is damp. cloying. it'll cling to the bones and no amount of layers will really warm you in the face of it. but it's a balmy tropical island compared to the bitter bite and sharp brutality of new york, with blizzards and frost and icicles that dangle dangerously and daintily from the gutters.

but sometimes the cold has value. it grounds her tonight, as her mind frantically compiles lists upon lists of nonsensical bullshit to replace the more alarming tasks that require her focus. her brain is a whirlwind. a hurricane of productive procrastination. and while the cold keeps her rooted as she tries to sort out the string lights outside the diner, that in itself is rapidly fading as she comes up with new problems and no amount of solutions will ever be satisfactory in fixing them, so why--

a warm coat suddenly sits around her, encasing her in a soft lining and the kind of heat that tells her someone was only just wearing it. aisling jerks her head to the side. ezekiel stands, hands still resting on the coat, very serious about his sacrifice. it pulls her away from the infinite mountain of crises that may never come to pass. " hey. " her fingertips brush his knuckles. then, reality embraces her, and she stands up, suddenly grabbing at his hand and drawing him back into the heat of the diner. " shit! i'm so sorry, i wasn't... jesus, i was away in my own world, i didn't see how cold it was. i'm sorry, zeke, you're frozen now, too! let me fix you something hot to eat, hey? "

[unhirsch-a]

"i wonder if guilt is fashionable." from rambert to april

YOU ARE EATING AN ORANGE     [ACCEPTING]     FEAT.    @writwove

          APRIL OPENS HIS MOUTH JUST A FRACTION         &  closes it immediately,   no answer finding its way from the wires of his brain down to his tongue.   he would consider witty remarks his specialty  &  even then————     how easy it would have been to pretend that guilt is not an emotion he has ever felt,   especially when lying,   too,   is like a second language to him.     (ONE MIGHT EVEN SAY YOU KNOW A THING OR TWO ABOUT FASHION BUT ALAS,   NOT AN APPLICABLE SKILL IN THIS INSTANT.)     so when he crosses his arms over his chest it is almost petulant,   defensive where there is no need to be.   the question in itself was hardly personal but a hit dog will always holler.     "probably."     it suits me quite well he almost adds but we do not give ourselves away in this way!   at least he feels the guilt pool somewhere low in the pit of his stomach so perhaps not all hope is lost on him quite yet.     "guilt sounds like a nice shade of blue,   i think.   with a few sprinkles of yellow  &  white.   you know,   like a sun reflected in foamy water."     telling perhaps,   that the idea of guilt takes this representation for him!   but this too can be a fun little inside joke between you  &  yourself.

[sacredeeer]

breath  was  calm  ,        the  heat  from  his  hand  was  ebbing  ,  leaks  of  blood  so  warm  .  no  matter  how  many  times  the  skin  split  ,  it  was  not  a  feeling  for  one  to  get  used  to  and  it  remained  alien  .  eyes  clenched  for  a  breif  second  the  sudden  rushing  of  the  pain  that  lingered  and  waited  till  the  sight  of  blood  .

"  i'm  a  goddamn  fool  .  "       heated  angry  words  at  himself  and  no  one  else  .  the  hook  he  had  attempted  to  bait  lay  waste  to  the  skin  and  sat  there  ,  but  with  one  angry  shove  and  toss  it  was  lost  in  the  grass  in  frustration  .

                                     𝒊𝒏𝒋𝒖𝒓𝒚 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒆𝒅 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒎𝒑𝒕𝒔                 @writwove : "the wound will heal but-but you'll have a scar."                                             from kieran, fishing accident maybe                                 Or...gun fight either way kieran is frowning

"  one  of  many  .  "       flippant  and  dismissive  but  the  anger  still  resided  within  .  the  tantrum  was  coming  .

the  rod  came  next  ,  and  it  bounced  with  the  forced  and  racketed  on  the  bedrock  .  but  it  survived  ,  it  always  did  ,  sturdy  stuff  to  be  handled  by  the  sturdiest  of  men  .

"  shit  .  "