INCORRECT QUOTES | @atfaults
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INCORRECT QUOTES | @atfaults

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she barely registers the initial sound till she’s been shoved out of the way, lead projectile (luckily) only hitting the very edge of the hunter’s arm. a gun. someone took a shot at her. & they probably would’ve hit her. might’ve been a good thing. that’s the right way to kill a wild animal, isn’t it? “ oh, fuck -- wh -- what th’shit is th’ matter with you, jackass? ” she’s glad it isn’t something horrible, of course, but at the moment she’s a smidge more shocked that any of this happened. “ i don’ know first aid for a goddamn bullet hole so i sure’s fuck hope you do -- this is why y’don’ trespass in th’ sticks. old rednecks love t’play john wayne & you’re never th’winner. ”
@atfaults. bullet.
❝ i don’t know how long i’ll be able to protect you for, but i guarantee you, i’ll only stop with my final breath. ❞ ... @atfaults
THE WORDS COME FULL CIRCLE, bring her memories back to a place she had since buried deep in the void of her mind.
[ OCT 21ST, 2006. john lays on his death bed. she is always thankful to see him get any bit of sleep these days, recognizes that in his slumber is the only place where he may not feel much pain. she stands over him, protectively hand in hand while the eyes of lynn burn into the back of her skull. of course, a stranger could never understand the bond amanda and john have. to outsiders: torturers, murderers, sickos ... to them: a bond that could hardly be replicated anywhere else. john is a mentor, friend, FATHER. and amanda, his loyal follower — A DAUGHTER with a gun hidden in the her back pocket. TO PROTECT HIM UNTIL HER FINAL BREATH ... ]
upon snapping back to reality, amanda realizes hot tears have begun to unforgivingly sting her eyes. ❝ i don't ... — ... d-don't deserve that. ❞ she finally gets out with a small hiccup, a last ditch effort to blink back her emotions. a hand comes up, rubs harshly against the soft skin of her face almost like a punishment.
she knows the risks that come with protecting the people you care about. [ another flashback, this time all that comes with are the gunshots and john's echo, " game over. " ] she swallows thickly. ❝ s'just like you said, dean ... i wouldn't be able to live with myself if i lost you, ❞ her head tips forward, gently rests on his chest. ❝ and if i lost you because of me ? ... ❞ her voice trails off as she is unable to find the strength to say the rest, but she looks up at him with big, watery eyes — HE CAN FIGURE OUT THE REST.
[ carry ] ... @atfaults * source
𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐀𝐂𝐘 𝐈𝐒 𝐒𝐀𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐇𝐄𝐑 — to be vulnerable and exposed, to allow another to see every imperfection and every scar. very few have earned enough of her trust to reach this point, yet dean has snuck his way into her heart & mind and has found a home there just as she has with him. he hovers over her, golden light of morning surrounding his features in a way that almost seems ethereal. she opens her mouth to mention it, then promptly changes her mind — maybe it would sound too corny coming from her.
@atfaults sent #16 to see mandy's cd collection !
amanda is such an early 00's metalcore & rock/goth rock connoisseur and honestly i love that for her bc um ,,, me too bitch !! but if you're getting in the car with her or just hanging around, expect her to always whip out one of the following albums:
1. they're only chasing safety - underoath 2. self titled - the used 3. fallen - evanescence ( going under. i don't have to elaborate ) 4. meteora - linkin park 5. three cheers for sweet revenge - my chemical romance 6. 3750 - the acacia strain

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@atfaults .... ♡
❝ 𝐆𝐄𝐓 𝐔𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐌𝐄 ... 'cause i'm not going anywhere. ❞
@atfaults : “you'll be okay.”
your past will always find you. the dirty secrets of september’s youth cling to them like lycra, stuck to their body as if glued down. their body has always been a topic of contention, the focus of everyone around them, something quick to become an obsession. why wouldn’t a young girl obsess over their body if everyone else around them did? from their father to complete strangers, everyone got a slice and everyone had their criticisms. now every inch of porcelain skin is under constant surveillance, every cut and scrape a new tragedy. their distress comes not from the now unconscious man on the ground, past clientele that caught up to them in an obsessive rage. instead the distress comes from the cut on their cheek, the slice that tarnishes doll-like features. that isn’t their life anymore, they don’t need to be perfect. and yet the fear remains. even as dean insists on their future fine-ness, september’s fingers dance over the cut as if it changes everything. wide eyes raise to meet his gaze at the words, brows furrowed as if he’s insane. does he not understand the need for perfection? he must have caught on to their past by now, at least they think so. it hasn’t crossed their mind that their constant striving for purity would lead to people perceiving as much, believing as much, until told otherwise. they’re so aware of their own dirtiness that the idea someone else could be blind to it seems impossible. ❝ it’s gonna leave a mark. ❞ and it’s obvious that that’s all september is concerned for. the pain leaves them unbothered, the sting of an injury, the sight of blood staining pale fingertips, that isn’t new. that isn’t a worry. but their face being marked, their face being stained, that’s a concern. ❝ i can feel it. there’s a mark. ❞
@atfaults: " oh, i get it. i can stitch you up and let you get blood all over my bed sheets until the cows come home, but heaven forbid i start to ask questions about why you're bleeding in the first place. "
it wasn’t intentional. some wounds left over from the summer keep refusing to heal -- physically, this time. edith narrows her eyes at dean, upper lip curling. “ y’didn’ have t’ let me in. or help. this fuckin’ thing’s been a bitch t’heal anyway, & your bad attitude isn’t fuckin’ helping. ” icy gaze turns to the large gash on her side, equal & opposite to one she’d left on daniel fairly early on. she grimaces, only barely being able to see it. (she does feel a bit bad about the whole blood thing. if you’re not experienced, it can be a bitch to get out.) she sighs, any movement stinging & eliciting a small hiss from her.
“ listen, man, i’ll wash yer goddamn sheets. jus’ opened an older wound on accident -- wasn’ as healed as i thought, ” that last phrase is mumbled. it’s healed enough that it looks clean, as opposed to how it was when she first drove herself home. it’s a bit smaller, she figures, the skin that wasn’t split so far apart sewing itself together. the almost-healed other marks across her stay as hidden as possible, one hand still on the jacket that she wears like armor. “ goddamn ex-boyfriends’re like chicken pox or some shit -- even when they’re gone they might come back as even more of a pain in the ass. ”
accepting.