yeyeye my baby <3
yeyeye my baby <3
I’m trying, really I am fkjfhsdkfds
Is this how you do it??
- However if you would like to rp then simply send a message and I shall happily write a starter. [ Or vise-versa if you wish to make the starter. ]
- This blog accepts tagged rp’s as well as meme beginning rp’s.
The first drawing, done back in 2012, and the new one I literally JUST finished (after 4.5 hours or so), 2014.
P r o g r e s s
Ash let go of him, putting her hands up. she wasn’t scared. okay she was really scared.
" Remember," she said calmly, keeping her hands where he could see them. " I was at the farm. you’re group found me on the road, and brought me with them. Though now that i think about it," She shrugged, keeping her hands up. " we never really met directly."
Ash gave a nervous laugh, before glancing down at the body between them. ” i guess it’s good that we won’t have to worry about a walker on top of all this.”
He continued to stare, waiting impatiently for this woman to explain herself. Had Mark been in a better state -with restful sleep and a decent meal-, maybe he would have been able to recognize her. But, as fate would have it, nothing was ringing a bell. Until the dairy farm was brought up. Blue eyes widened in alarm, though the very mention of the word seemed to otherwise paralyze him. Just what he needed, a traumatizing recollection of a series of unfortunate events out in the middle of who knows where with some strange girl. Images of blood, arrows, saws, and gore flashed before his vision, quickly drawing the mechanic out of his wired state. Everything around him, even the walker which was previously brought down, was temporarily nonexistent. The past had once again trapped him in rustic chains he could not break free from. But much like a cornered animal, he struggled.
“N-No! Don’t speak of that place! I don’t remember- I don’t WANT to remember!”
Chortling died within his throat, playing the tune of a smoker’s cough. Calloused digits balled into a tight fist to caress his chapped lips. Swollen, red-rimmed eyes fluttered shut. By no means was he ill. Sleep deprivation as well as a lack of proper nutrition (oh, bitter irony) took a toll on any man.
He knew his brother was far from friendly, savage even. A smile twisted onto his lips, stretched across his face. Laughter lines unfurled. The world was a joke with Andy as the hanged man, the jester, the fool all out on center stage.
“Always with the little digs, eh? Never missed that,” he answered with a shake of his head. “Lord, I know Dan wants nothin’ to do with me after I—” His grin stretched a little more, now sardonic. He killed their mother (out of mercy, no less), but Mark doesn’t deserve to be privy to the truth even though he’s been through Hell and back.
“All of y’all wanna flay me alive for the shit I’ve done n’ I don’t blame you.”
He can be the villain or atone.
Wonder which he’ll choose.
I don’t want anything to do with either of you. Mark growled to himself, his eyes averting in a more subtle display of pique. Now wasn’t the time to engage in a heated argument, and the amputee reminded himself constantly; a broken record that, unfortunately, skipped out of sync fairly often. He forced himself to keep the opinion to himself by sheer willpower alone, however even the act of simply remaining silent in the presence of his antagonist drained a hefty amount of self-control. The smart thing to do at a time like this would be simply to walk away, but Mark wasn’t a fool. Encounters like this have happened countless times in the past, as if the two were drawn to each other by some strange unseen force. Saint and Sinner always found a way of bumping into each other again.
“And yet here you are, yet to accept the ramifications of your misdeeds.”