[ohfiendangelical]

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[deadbyronichero-blog]

HE'S UNCOUTH AND BLUNT AND GOD KNOWS WHAT ELSE

[deadbyronichero-blog]

TATEXABRA/ZEROXABRA, HELLYES!

the never ending struggle.

[ohphelias]

⌠ ✧ ⌡—;                       But that was okay. Abra doesn’t mind—if anything, familiar tendrils of worry wind around her lungs and squeeze the lungs from those frail things—she’s approaching him, now, bare feet padding faintly against the ground, svelte hands moving to rest upon strong shoulders. She rubs. Squeezes. Coos to him as a mother might, lashes lowering, eyes burning with grace.

                                        “I don’t care about that. Come here.”                                          A sinful woman, a damned angel—it wouldn’t change her fondness for this single boy. He was only a boy—unlike Zero, Tate wouldn’t grow into being a man—Abra softens, gently catching his chin in her digits, looking to his handsome face with a smile. Her opposing hand moves to brush over his neck.                                          ”Tell me what’s wrong, if you like. Or don’t, if you don’t like. I came to see you, not to scold you.”

[deadbyronichero-blog]

"I just started feeling so trapped, and the walls were too big—" Reluctantly, Tate reveals his crimson palms, a strangled whimper burning on the back of his throat. This happens every year when it starts to get truly warm—the sunlight fills up the house and the walls that bind the dead boy inside his home become so very obvious and solid. He panicked, he didn't mean to hurt anyone—

"It was just one mouse, but I shouldn't have." He shouldn't have done this, either, but as Abra's porcelain hand travels to rest at his neck, the dead boy turns his head just in time to plant a kiss on the flesh.

"You're really pregnant, you know. It's beautiful. You're beautiful, Abra."

[thesistersoftheapocalypse-deact]

Ask my muses questions about themselves. See what they're willing to tell you and what they aren't.

[ohphelias]

⌠ ✧ ⌡—;                       ”—…” She hasn’t visited for some time—though, Abra supposes that it’s just…normal. Or something. She isn’t sure. Normalcy is odd and strange and Abra is losing sight of that—so she’ll just watch Tate, her own slight form perched upon the banister. 

[deadbyronichero-blog]

Something or someone stirs nearby, but Tate doesn't have to turn around and see who's decided to join him, not when his chest was already so tight and there's something like lilac or baby's breath lingering in the air—

"This is a really shitty time, Abra." His voice wobbles and breaks and as much as he'd rather not, he's got to turn to face the angel or she won't be able to hear him. Hands curling into fists until his bloody fingernails sink away into flesh, he bites his lower lip in sheepish shame. "I don't want you to go, though. I'm just...I did something bad."

[deadbyronichero-blog]

Oh, fuck, oh, God, he's just overheated, just a little bit of cabin fever, he's honestly sorry and the little mouse was probably just overheated too and there's blood under his fingernails and he's so sorry—

[shybairnsget-nowt]

Reblog if you'll answer ALL ANONS that come into your ask right now!

[psychopathiic]

[ask-evan-petersss-deactivated20]

Violet was handling everything pretty well and finally. After all the shit she had gone through during high school it was finally summer and she was finally out of high school for good. Deciding where to go next and continue a relationship with Gabriel and try to make things meet for them came to her mind now every so often. He was normal and that was a good thing right? She needed to live a normal life now,that is what she deserved. She spent most of her days outside now that the weather had cleared but it was finally time to think of what she wanted out of life,what and where she needed to go to have that normal life. It wasn’t in this house anymore,the house didn’t move her anymore like it did before. Violet made her way from the backyard and down the hallway to the kitchen and stopped in her tracks. Tate was very good at not making his presents known around her but this time she’d see him,for the first time in a long time, needing something from the refrigerator. Violet stayed silent.

[deadbyronichero-blog]

Eyes closed in temporary contentment,Tate let out a deep sigh. There wasn't a lot of practicality in standing with the freezer open on his face, but it certainly beat rotting away in the humid attic, and the basement was reserved for his manic episodes, these days. He sucked in a breath through his nose, mostly out of habit, when something other than the stale smell of the house wafted past. It was so faint, he was almost sure he imagined it—the light aroma of clean linen and lavender and—

"Violet." The name unfolded from Tate's lips dry and practically inaudible. Slowly, hesitantly, he closed the freezer door, eyes open and anticipating.

[deadbyronichero-blog]

Fanning herself with her hand, Easter walks down the stairs wondering what the hell was going on with the heat in this house and why. Tiredly rubbing her eyes, she walked in the kitchen and felt a sudden chill. “What that?” She took her hands from her eyes and spotted a stranger standing in front of her freezer with the door wide open. “What the hell are you doing?”

[deadbyronichero-blog]

"Coolin' off. Well, trying to. We don't have any popsicles. If we did, I wouldn't be standin' here like an asshole." Tate gives a non committal lean and shrug from the freezer door to take a look at the female addressing him. She wasn't overly familiar and  her presence didn't feel especially ghoulish, but the blonde boy's intuition wasn't especially sharp at present.>

"Wait, did you get popsicles? Give 'em here, I can put them in the freezer."

[deadbyronichero-blog]

The thermostat's done nothing but climb all day, and while his sensitivity to temperature's significantly dulled in death, Tate knows he hates the LA sun. He's not ready to shed his sweaters quite yet, so the dead boy stands in front of the refrigerator, freezer door wide open to provide minimal relief.

[deadbyronichero-blog]

MY URL

“She’s perfect, and Christ, it scares me. Have you ever been touched by someone perfect? She just brushes up against me, and I can feel the world, people’s footsteps on the street and sun on my face and it’s like time’s real again when I’m with her. It doesn’t just stick to the walls, it fuckin’ passes. I only wish I could catch her, y’know? Find a way to keep her without caging her. She doesn’t love me, not the way I want her to, but she can’t forget me and that’s gonna have to be enough.”

[mariavrp]

(via Oh No They Didn’t! - FREE FOR ALL FRIDAY!)

[deadbyronichero-blog]

iwonttell-ifyoudont ;D

“The old bitch? She’s alright, ‘specially cause she just walks around lookin’ young all the time. Cleans up good, makes good grilled cheese…

And I mean, when she’s not suckin’ dick she’s a really sweet lady.”

[missmoiraohara-archive-blog]

Give me a URL, and I'll tell you my thoughts on/relationship with them!

[afiercelittlegirl]

|—☣—;         She’s promised Moira that she’ll help clean up around the house, just in case someone had decided to purchase it. Truthfully, Violet didn’t have the heart to tell her that if nobody had bought it in the first few years, no one was going to buy it now. Either way, the little spirit is moving along the walls, ridding them of any stains — Mostly blood stains, thanks to her and one another that will remain nameless due to a sharp pain in her chest. Even with the basement door open, a cold wind had crawled up the steps, circling around the bare ankles that peeked out of her dress. Violet flinched, ignoring the feeling. The last time she had spoken to Tate, it hadn’t worked out very well. For the sake of her own feelings, and pride but that was besides the point, Violet will just breeze past the entrance to the dark prison, moving to the living room.

[deadbyronichero-blog]

Well, so much for the perception of zen. He can hear her shuffling around, the footsteps are too tiny to be Hayden's and Moira's never scurried around like that, hot bitch or otherwise. Their last encounter is still relatively fresh in his head, but upon recalling it, Tate finds that he's not flinching or wincing at the memory the way he typically does. No, for all her tenacity and homicidal impulses, Violet catered astonishingly well to his little episode. He wasn't having an episode now, no, he was well! He was happy! She'd welcome him, totally—

"Viiiiioletttt..." He trills at the little shadow, lips shifting into an earnest smile.

[deadbyronichero-blog]

Would you RP with somebody who stays on anonymous?

I'll be honest, nonnie, I've never done it before and I don't know how organized I'd be. I don't harbor prejudices against anonymous folks, of course, it's just out of my realm of experience. I'd be willing to give it an honest try, though.