Filthy World

Tate Langdon is dead. Forever 17. Famous for the Westfield High Massacre. Repressed for the close relationship with his twin sister. {I track godofmyidolatry}

[the-jack-o-lantern-smile-blog]

| If I Had A Heart |

[the-jack-o-lantern-smile-blog]

Tara Langdon, the sweetened little bullet-riddled angel that the media believed to be a misguided victim of her twin brother but he knew better than that. If there was one thing in this abysmal existence that she would never be nor had she ever been, was a victim. If her brother wanted her to pretend to be for the sake of a thrill, she could be such a good little actress but she knew he got off on her natural way of drawing him into his own darkness and losing themselves in it. His whispered tones telling her that he loved her reminded her that she wasn’t a complete monster and she wasn’t nearly as heartless as she may have liked to believe - she could love and the only person who could come anywhere near her without risk of harm was the other half of her in him.

Although her heart could no longer beat and she was nothing but a ghost of her former self, feeling him so close to her and tasting the way she was able to make him groan for her. As he moved them to lay on the hardwood floor they found themselves surrounded by the small puddles and droplets of crimson they had caused earlier. The redness staining her little white dress and playing a sharp contrast against her porcelain skin as he lay between her legs. The delicate lace of the fabric her dress was made of slipped farther up along her soft thighs which tightened around his waist. Her hands wandering down along his chest until they stopped at the waist of his pants and she made short work of the button and the zipper. He knew what she wanted, what she always wanted - Tate was her sinful addiction and always would be. Her delicious weakness that she craved so entirely.

[godofmyidolatry-blog]

The moments swallowed him, no matter where they were, he couldn't focus on anything but this. As if the world had closed in around them, his buzzing mind was allowed some moment of peace. Something only Tara had seemed to give him, well, her submitting to his violence tendencies. To the sickness that plagued the young ghosts minds. It spread like a poison and he could almost feel it transferring in their kisses. Almost feel it staining her skin as he lips drifted down to her collar bone. 

One hand held his weight on the floor by Tara's head, and the other moved to slip the straps of her dress off her shoulders as she returned the favour at his pants. He could feel the desire pulsing, blood pumping as he craved her touch. With a yank he pulled her dress off her upper half to find she wasn't wearing anything else beneath. He kissed the the skin under her breast before he moved his tongue up to tease and flick at a softly pink nipple. Her skin was so perfect and forever would her body retain the temptation of youth, his mouth enclosed around the skin and he suckled softly as his free hand gently cupped and massaged her other breast.

[weaklittlebirdie-deactivated201]

[nikiisix]

[foreverforgotten88]

[the-jack-o-lantern-smile-blog]

Hide & Seek

This new mansion of a home the Langdon family now called their proverbial castle, at least that was what the matriarch referred to it as, was sprawling and captivating, beautiful but with something that just tugged at the nervous system. They say that children are especially susceptible to the supernatural and ever since the family moved into the house the two youngest children had been experiencing a series of strange things. Whispers in empty rooms, doors opening on their own and things tumbling from shelves by some unseen force. Constance would scold them for having such overactive imaginations, telling them that when a person dies they don’t become a ghost but are called to heaven to be with God and the angels but to keep in mind that they were angels sent here to brighten their mother’s life - what an awful woman.

The little girl with the bright, doll-like eyes and the remnants of bruises littering her tiny frame was currently in a game of hide and go seek with her twin brother. He was always so good at this game and there were countless places for a small child to hide in throughout the house. A soft yellow sundress on her form with her cornsilk blonde hair spun into a single French braid as she padded through the house. They had to be quiet, their mother was asleep in one of the sitting rooms - passed out from too much alcohol was more like it. Reaching the basement door she felt an unwelcome chill spiral down her spine as she reached for the aged brass knob and the door creaked open. She peered down into the abysmal darkness with a small tremble in her hand as she held onto the railing along the steps that led down into the basement as she became to descend. Tara was only a few steps down when the door snapped shut behind her suddenly and caused her to jolt a bit and peek behind her. Swallowing hard as she hurried down the rest of the steps as if whatever had closed the door would come through it and after her. Her heart racing in her chest as she finally spoke and her voice was quivering along with her bottom lip. “O-Okay, Tate… I don’t want to play anymore… I’m scared…” the children had yet to actually see a ghost but there was always that eerie feeling that the family wasn’t alone in this house.

[godofmyidolatry-blog]

Barely above a whisper his sister was counting at when he had taken off to seek out a place where she could never find him. Though, this wouldn't be the first time that they had played and as he silently made his way around the main floor, he realized that he had already used all the good spots. Flustered he ended it up the front hall, and his head turned to see the the door to the basement. Neither child had been down there yet, both harbouring an unspoken fear for it. But Tate was a big boy and he wasn't sacred of anything so he puffed his chest up and forced himself to open the door, closing it softly behind him before descending the stair case. 

Which he did slowly, as wide deep brown eyes looked around in the darkness and attempted to adjust. Lightly he dropped down to the cold cement as he got to the bottom, and as if trying to convince himself spoke, "Psh, there's nothing down here, and Tara will be too scared to find me here..." but he heard her footsteps above him now, and panicked before he dove under an old piece of furniture. Was it theirs? Or was it left there by someone else. 

As he sat and waited his eyes turned towards the small tunnel of darkness that the tunnel created. The harder he looked, the more he could swear he saw a face, though the moment her thought he had it...it was gone again. Now he was enraptured by it, by the darkness, like a tragedy that you know you shouldn't watch but you can't look away. It pulled him in. He heard the door shut and Tara say something but his heart was pounding and his voice was caught in his throat...there was something...and if he looked away it would get him. So he sat there in shock, unable to tear his eyes away as they watered, because he refused to blink.

[awntypam-deactivated20180301]

[heartsinmyhand]

[langdonshorrostory-blog]

“There’s so much Pain,you know?  There’s so much..”

[leilanifox]

[arwen951-deactivated20210105]

american horror story | via Tumblr on @weheartit.com - http://whrt.it/160cae1

[kavainsky]

 ╚ Favorite Actors // Evan Peters

[kavainsky]

 ╚ Favorite Actors // Evan Peters

[devil-is-real-deactivated201410]

Tate & Ben

[eire-ne]

Let’s just take a moment, and see how perfect he is.

[hamises]

[godofmyidolatry-blog]

Restless

The more he sat here, attempting to b still the more agitated her became. Eventually her felt his limbs twitching, screaming at him to move. When he did it was sudden and violent, throwing himself out of the chair, beginning to pace as he gnawed at the nail of his thumb. 

...fuck I need a fix. 

But how would he get it? Maybe the answer was simpler than the question, her wouldn't. He was a forgotten soul trapped in a haunted house. Tate couldn't leave and even if one of the living wandered in here there was no guarantee they would be toting his drug of choice. If they were though, he was more than happy kill for it. 

Emitting a low and annoyed growl he ran his hands through his curly brown locks and huffed in frustration, "Fuck this bullshit," 

Snap. 

In a fit of rage he threw his balled fist into the wall, feeling his knuckle bones break against the unforgiving concrete. The second followed and he pounded at the wall until his hands bled, frustration and anger eventually transitioned to tears. When he lost all his passion, he leaned his forehead against the cold cemented, now painted red and sniffled at tears ran down his cheek. 

Tate just couldn't take it anymore.

[browneyednoblewar]