every picture tells a story.

Indie Fandomless OC. Written by Fish.

[rickycohete]

[butigotaletter]

                          she was like a star, nothing but a beautiful                                                                            ECHO OF DEATH.

[takcapicture]

📷 | @neverarhyme liked for a line em up starter.

He raised an eyebrow, skeptical at her words. “You serious? You’d actually do that for me. No joke. Is that what you’re saying?” What she was proposing was a rather serious matter. It would mean the absolute world to Henry if she tried - even more so if she succeeded.

[takcapicture]

"How much longer, Henry. She's going to run out of blood sooner rather than later."

“I know, I know,” Henry insisted. He was working as fast as he could and her badgering wasn’t much help. “I just need to make sure the lighting is just right. You’ve done astounding work, and so everything needs to be perfect to capture it in all it’s glory.”

He took a step back, gave the scene a quick once over, and clapped his hands together. “Perfect. Okay; you can take the picture now.”

[takcapicture]

📷 | @birdghosted​ liked for a line em up starter.

“I see your soul; you wear it on your face. It's worn in what you do.”  

The cryptic words, though said toward the newspaper he was reading, seemed directed at the woman who sat down at the table next to him. The words were quiet so no one around him would hear, but just loud enough that someone close by would.

[takcapicture]

📷 | @queenofkategat liked for a line em up starter.

Tsk tsk tsk.  Henry had stumbled in on quite the sight. Before him lay a freshly dead body, and a person who he assumed was the killer removing any evidence of the crime. So what else was Henry to do but critique her work?

“Well, that was rather bland. Couldn’t you have been more creative?”

[takcapicture]

📷 | line em up.               starter call!

[takcapicture]

                    Henry Blackwell. 26. Artist. Photographer. Serial Killer.

📷 | history.

Born a middle child with an identical twin; Henry grew up in a suburban town, graduated college with a photography degree, and started his own independent studio. Though gifted with incredible skills in photography, there wasn’t much that was outstanding in his life.

At least, that’s what he was made to believe. When your older brother is a successful actor staring in a popular TV show, your twin is one of the best lawyers around, and your little sister is a qualified doctor, being a photographer is rather dull to outside eyes. Anyone could take a photo of something and call it art. “Your photos are rather... mediocre. Can’t you choose a different interest?” he was so often told as a child.

Although his studio would get enough customers to keep him living comfortably, it wasn’t enough. He wasn’t truly appreciated. No one would look at his portfolio and admire his hard work. It just wasn’t good enough, but the hunt for the right muse was a struggle.

That is, until one late, rainy night. Feeling a little under the weather, Henry chose to leave a party early. Desperate to get home, he took a shortcut, to which he soon regretted. A junkie armed with a knife and clearly suffering withdrawals jumped him in an attempt to mug him. Much bigger than her, Henry managed to overpower the small woman, killing her in the process. 

He stood there, shock settling in, as he took in the events that just unfolded. He killed someone. He killed someone. And yet, he couldn’t help but notice how the dim lighting lit the alleyway almost delicately. How the blood carefully framed her face. How the rain made his victim appear as if she was crying. It was almost poetic. 

It was at that moment that Henry had an epiphany. He’d found his muse, and her name was Death. And although he continued to run his little studio with the most mediocre of photos, at night he carefully plans his next masterpiece. 

Word of his eccentric works had been passed around the criminal world; sometimes in admiration, sometimes in disgust. This chatter struck up the interest of one of the largest criminal rings in the city, of whom he makes an audience.

📷 | personality.

Henry comes across as a very friendly and charming, if not pretentious, individual, which he uses to manipulate those around him. His height and athletic build allow overpower weaker opponents when it is deemed necessary. Not one to make many friends, most people he will consider as acquaintances - distractions from his work. He will however still generally come across as an approachable guy, even as an enemy. providing one does not insult his masterpieces. They are his life, his very sense of being; to insult them is to insult him, and he will not take this lightly, becoming vicious and in extreme cases violent.

📷 | connections. 

Verin Cassiopeia. Close friend. (neverahyme)

[takcapicture]

@like-a-deer cont. from here.

Jasmine was not having a good day.

Here she sat on the sidewalk, wondering what to do. Her car- Her home- was broken into.

She glanced up to the stranger after sighing in defeat. Please don’t be the robber checking if he missed anything.

“Well.. My money, my cellphone, my printer… basically anything that wasn’t nailed down in there-except my clothes..”

She motioned to the broken window on the driver’s side; rubbing her temple.

Thank goodness she had her camera on her neck.

Henry rubbed the back of his neck, observing the damaged vehicle. Poor kid. That’s got to be rough. With no money and no cellphone, there wasn’t much she could do without abandoning the car and risking more of her stuff being taken.

“I might not be able to get you your stuff back, but I’m going to help you however I can. There’s a little diner just across the road; you’ll be able to watch your car from there. How about I buy you some lunch, and you can borrow my phone to call the insurance or whatever.”

A warm smile stretched his lips. He’d been planning on getting something to eat anyway, and figured there was no harm in assisting someone who needed it along the way. He liked company. Especially when it appears they have an interest in photography.

[takcapicture]

All the starter sentences I could find, alphabetized.

"Are you crazy?”

"Are you even listening to me?"

"Are you even listening to yourself?"

"Are you sure they won’t find out?”

"Are you sure this is legal?”

"Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”

"Are you threatening me?"

"Be mine."

"Do I know you?"

"Do you love me?"

"Do you remember this?"

"Do you trust me?"

"Don’t go."

"Don’t let me die"

"Don’t look at me like that."

"Don’t make me beg.”

"Don’t you dare come near me!"

"Don’t you dare."

"Explain yourself."

"For you, I would _____"

"Give it back."

"Give me another chance."

"Have you ever even done this before?"

"How drunk are you right now?"

"I already regret this."

"I am not wearing that.”

"I can’t believe you missed that."

"I can’t do this anymore."

"I can’t even look at you."

"I could kill you!"

"I dare you." or "I dare you to _____."

"I didn’t do it.""

"I didn’t know you could do that."

"I don’t want to look at you right now.”

"I guess this is goodbye.”

"I hate you."

"I have to go."

"I just want to cuddle."

"I know your secret.”

"I love you, but I really wish I didn’t.”

"I love you."

"I miss you so very much."

"I missed you."

"I need a drink."

"I need a hug."

"I never really loved you."

"I owe you."

"I think I broke it."

"I think I’m falling in love with you. "

"I think I’m forgetting something."

"I think it’s broken.”

"I trust you."

"I want to be yours."

"I want to try this thing I read in a book.”

"I want you. Naked. In my bed. Now."

"I’ll be there in five minutes.”

”This is really inappropriate.”

"I’m all for spicing thing’s up, but isn’t this a bit much?”

"I’m bad for you.”

"I’m dying."

"I’m going to be sick."

"I’m not speaking to you anymore."

"I’m pregnant and it’s yours."

"I’ve never heard that one before."

"If you stay quiet, no one will know.”

"Is that my shirt?"

"It was me"

"It’s so beautiful.”

"It’s time to choose.”

"Just five more minutes."

"Just go."

"Just leave me alone."

"Just let me die."

"Just relax."

"Just what did we do last night?"

"Kiss me you idiot."

"Kiss me."

"Make me."

"Marry me?"

"My Parents don’t know"

"My parents know.""

"Never again."

"Nh, don’t be so rough!"

"No, that can’t be my baby."

"No! You can’t die on me now!"

"Put it away.”

"Put your trousers on!"

"Put. The. Weapon. Down."

"Shut up and listen."

"Take responsibility."

"That isn’t mine."

"That looked easier on TV."

"That sounds painful."

"That was a bad plan."

"That’s mine!”

"That’s the cheesiest pickup line I’ve ever heard."

"They’re coming.”

"This seems familiar."

"This stays between us."

"Truth hurts, don’t it?"

"Want to hear a secret?"

"We need to talk."

"We’re moving too fast.”

"Well that was unexpected."

"What are we doing here?"

"What are you afraid of?"

"What are you touching?"

"What are you?"

"What do you need?"

"What happened to you?"

"What have I done this time?"

"What if someone catches us?”

"What sort of noise was that?”

"What the hell do you think you’re doing?"

"What were you thinking?"

"Where are my clothes?"

"Where did you find this?"

"Where do you even find this sort of thing?”

"Where were you?"

"Who’d have guessed you could pull such a face?”

"Why are you wearing that?"

"Why yes, I am as think as you drunk I am."

"You could have died!”

"You could have killed someone!"

"You coward."

"You don’t need to be so gentle.”

"You drive me crazy!"

"You have ten minutes, so make it quick.”

"You lied to me!"

"You mean everything to me."

"You owe me."

"You. Come. Snuggle. NOW!"

"You’re all out of ____."

"You’re an idiot.”

"You’re bad for me.”

"You’re dead to me."

"You’re pregnant and It’s mine"

"You’re really good at this…”

"You’re so weird.""

"You’re under arrest."

[takcapicture]

tag dump.