FIX ME, MOTHERFUCKER.

survivor Amanda Young (The Pig)

@fixknife.

          in his defense, he hadn’t actually been meaning to stare. it just—  kind of happened.  its a thing, ok ?  she looks… no different than anyone else walking down the street, really. superficially, there’s nothing noticeably off about her at all. but something manages to draw his eye to her, incline him to spare more than a passing glance. the same shit that makes him a good detective, probably.  ( the way she keeps tugging her sleeves down, trying to further conceal already-hidden expanses of skin. the bite in her remark upon taking notice that someone is watching. nervous ticks if he’s ever fucking seen them, painting quite the picture for sure; if only he could decipher what the hell he’s looking at. )

           whatever. sensitive, much ?  sure, maybe staring is a little rude; doesn't mean she’s gotta go and act like it’s the end of the fucking world. looking at someone isn’t against any law; he would know !  sue him for having eyes.

           gaze narrows, lips curling back to bare a hint of teeth—  a partial sneer. if she’s going to lash out like a bitch, well, two can play that game.  ( pot, meet kettle. )

              nose twitches, he sniffles, a hand flies up to swipe at the itch he needs to scratch. to anyone who knows what to look for, its a neon sign of a bad fucking habit.

                     ‘ follow your own fuckin’ advice, maybe.  ”

me: roleplaying is so fun

me: this is a fun time