ALL MY TROUBLES.

i wasn't sure if i loved her as a god, or as a woman, or as both.

[burnedshea]

🔥 BLOG NOTICE

THE BLOG YOU ARE LOOKING FOR HAS BEEN MOVED,

[teletapedarc-deactivated2024092]

death can get a person stressed, “ we should have carpe’d way more diems now we’re never gonna see ‘em ” i can show you what comes next so don’t be freaked stay in your seats i do this bullshit, like, eight times a week – so just relax, you’ll be fine ! || ind priv sel podcast character based multimuse; remixed by harper. [ temp. // psd. ]

[burnedshea]

🔥 BLOG NOTICE

AGNES WAS MOVED TO @teletaped on JAN 8, 2021

🔥 OTHER BLOGS

ezekiel jones ( the librarians, med act. )

multimuse ( multi-fandom, low act. )

podcast multimuse ( podcasts, high act. )

[burnedshea]

Agnes, adopting herself into the lives of all the depressed, twink avatars: 

[zoecravitz]

[burnedshea]

anyway someone talk to me about agnes lighting ur character’s cigarette with her hand as a form of intimacy.

[burnedshea]

@vcrtigoes​ look at them

[leneemusing]

Ask my muse questions about other muses//their relationship with other muses

[burnedshea]

me, softly: *i wanna avatarsona*

[burnedshea]

kazoos are to the end what bagpipes are to the slaughter

[oksanelle]

[burnedshea]

youmoveon​:

@burnedshe gets a thing.

The cafe is full to the brim with patrons. Notebooks litter several tables. She concludes that this must be a popular study spot. Her order’s simple - just some earl grey, thank you, and a cinnamon scone. While waiting, she folds her arms across her chest and leans against the wall. It’s a decent viewpoint for watching the sole exit and looking for a place to sit.

Agnes walks into the cafe with the same level of purpose she does everything with. Her eyes filter over the tables, ordering herself a cup of coffee -- black -- and taking it over to her usual table. Never mind the fact there is already a woman sitting there. She gives her a friendly enough smile. “Hello.” The young woman greets, wrapping her hands around the warm cup of coffee. “Are you one of Gertrude’s friends?” She certainly seemed the type of company the Institute’s Head Archivist would keep. A professor or other academic, no doubt.

[burnedshea]

radioways​:

“ tell me your story and I’ll tell you mine. ” // sheburned ( agnes) for Gerry?? uwu 

                   THE OFFER ISN’T A NEW ONE, it’s rather standard quid pro quo isn’t it ? i’ll tell you something but only if you’ll tell me something too. gerard takes a moment, pretending to think it over, dark eyes dancing over agnes’ features, putting on a façade of boredom. he doesn’t mind the idea, wouldn’t be doing this sort of thing if he did but there is hesitance to it, the idea of being known is a complex one. an idea people either love or hate, truly.   “ are we going to be playing by some silence of the lambs honor system ? where i Know if you lie ? ”   he questions, and there is amusement in his tone. gerry doesn’t truly mind if people know him, but if he is supposed to expose his inner demons, he’d prefer the ones shared will be of equal value, of equal truth.   

*    ⟢ @burnedshe​​︱ prompt accepting .

Agnes’ laugh escapes her lips before she can properly catch and smother it to something smaller and daintier. It’s a genuine laugh, and she only looks a tad surprised it escaped so easily. “God, you sound just like her when you say it like that.” She rolls her eyes, “I don’t want to hear about your mommy issues, if that’s your concern, book burner.” Whether he actually had mommy issues she didn’t know, but the look he wore certainly hinted to such.

Her lips curl into a smile, like the steam that curls from her cup. “Tell me about the tattoos? Are they real? Why did you get them?” Her eyes wander to the eyes that line the joints of his fingers. “Did they hurt?”

[hotcommunist-deactivated2019032]

women burning things with bad memories attached to them as a form of therapy? powerful. iconic.

[hotcommunist-deactivated2019032]

i have been arrested for burning a man

[burnedshea]

hauntheroine​:

          it creeps up on him slowly,  the warmth tangibly different from that which has settled at the base of his ribs.   lips part slightly as she sits next to him,  waiting for the inevitable questioning about the mark on his cheek.   she is familiar despite the fact casper knows he’s never seen her before.   the warmth settling gently between them both  -  the same fire.   ❝   casper.   ❞   he responds quietly,  shoving his hands into jacket pockets.   his leg slowly begins bouncing,  usual temper succumbing to an anxiety he hasn’t felt since the boardwalk.    ❝   who… who are you?   ❞   she introduced herself,  but that wasn’t what casper was referring to.

“You don’t have to be anxious. I’m here to help, not hurt.” Agnes voice is calm, almost soothing and peaceful. She hums, “I’m like you. Sort of. I also serve The Desolation.” She looks down at her hands, “The Fire is hard to contain within you, and that’s not unusual. Human vessels like us weren’t really created to keep it inside.” She picks at a string on her coat, absently. “How long have you been this way?”

[leepacesource]

Ned and Chuck | Pushing Daisies

[kuutamosonaatti]

The Pie-Maker could never touch her again. Chuck’s survival now depended on a delicate dance…a ballet of avoidance. The Pie-Maker took precautions to ensure Chuck felt safe at home. Slippers were worn, adorned with bells.