❝ they've ruined my face. ❞

❝ Hmmm, yeah. The biographers would eat it up, the studios would sell more copies of my movies - they’d probably put up a statue of me somewhere… Die young, live forever. I’d be one handsome pile of dust. ❞ ~ indie selective & private vtmb rp blog est. 22/06/15 written by katy #suicidalprettyboy psa: archived blog, now found here

[spb-archive2]

                             ❝ YOU DON’T KNOW ME. ❞

[spb-archive2]

                             ❝ YOU DON’T KNOW ME. ❞

[spb-archive2]

                             ❝ YOU DON’T KNOW ME. ❞

[spb-archive2]

                             ❝ YOU DON’T KNOW ME. ❞

[spb-archive2]

                             ❝ YOU DON’T KNOW ME. ❞

[suicidalprettyboy-archive-blog]

With the hoody over his face and his hands in his pockets, Ash walked along the dead Hollywood streets. He hated being back in this town, but he needed money so that meant a trip to the club and to see his sire, Isaac.

While walking along, he got lost in his thoughts and got the fright of his life when the ground beneath him seemed to move beneath him. He jumped from the fright and landed on the ground, only to then notice that it was all in his timing. The manhole which he just happened to be walking over was being opened.

Who usually rose from the sewers? The repulsive Nosferatu clan.

As he really didn’t want to expose himself to their monstrous forms, he decided to pretend he never sore a thing and forwarded on, trying to return to the terrifying world of his own thoughts.

[suicidalprettyboy-archive-blog]

Being lost in a terrifying place like the Toreador’s mind, Ash was very oblivious to the world around him. So oblivious to the point that it took a collision with another person to bring him back to planet Earth. While that in itself wasn’t an issue, the big thing that startled Ash was that the hoody covering his face had fallen back, revealing his extremely distinguishable scars.

Because he flat out didn’t know how to respond to the situation, he ended up just staring while hoping the female would move on.

[suicidalprettyboy-archive-blog]

“Wasn’t expecting a welcoming committee as I rolled into town.” Well, it’s not like it was a subtle entry, the car could be heard tearing down the road. It was late and he was starting to feel the hunger welling up, so his patience for pretty much everything was at a low. “Now, officer,” the word was said with a bitter venom, “you gonna let me in or what?”

[suicidalprettyboy-archive-blog]

whether it be melodies that give you inspiration for your muse, or songs that get you into the writing mood — pick 20 songs you find give you the urge, the drive, or the creativity to write for your muse — then tag your favorite peeps to get an insight on their musical inspirational feels.

TAGGED BY: No one but stolen from @knifethroatedx​ because this looks cool as hell

Boulevard of Broken Dreams - Green Day

Kiss and Control - AFI

Just Tonight - The Pretty Reckless

Fall Into the Flames - Beyond the Black

Bother - Stone Sour

Falling Inside the Black - Skillet

Wait and Bleed - Slipknot

Who You Are - Lunatica

Anastasia Says - Darling Violetta

Gorgeous Nightmare - Escape the Fate

Hollywood Whore - Papa Roach

Burning In Flames - Beyond the Black

God Has a Plan for Us All - Angtoria

Afraid of the Dark - Beyond the Black

Before I Forget - Slipknot

Lost It All - Black Veil Brides

Smells Like Teen Spirit - Nirvana

Swamped - Lacuna Coil

Against the World - Beyond the Black

Goodbye Agony - Black Veil Brides

tagging; @frommagick, @fulguritte, @twicexborn, @thatslayer, @inxhuman, @cadaverics, @crackedmxgic, @chancegivcn, @russiasartfuldodger, @mythxi, @morningstarisms, @thexcouncil, @spiritaniimals. @garlicdontwork. @youmissedsxcker

[belomi-archive]

Send your muse's reaction to my muses's death.

[sandcvstles]

five-word sentences.

“ please just let me forget. ”

“ c'mon try to guess what. ”

“ just leave me alone already. ”

“ no, i’m not going to. ”

“ you can’t change my mind. ”

“ my mind is made up. ”

“ i’m not gonna let you. ”

“ don’t do that to me. ”

“ think about what you’re doing. ”

“ why aren’t you listening now? ”

“ i want to sleep forever. ”

“ you need to leave now. ”

“ i’ll always have your back. ”

“ now there’s no going back. ”

“ the view really is spectacular. ”

“ i didn’t think you’d care. ”

“ why can’t you trust me? ”

“ don’t even bother with clothes. ”

“ i don’t love you anymore. ”

“ i am a great person. ”

“ you are a tolerable drunk. ”

“ exactly, why are you awake? ”

“ i’m gonna ignore you now. ”

“ how is that not hilarious? ”

“ please just calm down now. ” 

“ i was already calm, asshole. ”

“ i can see your underwear. ”

“ i’m afraid you’ll replace me. ”

“ please stop losing your temper. ”

“ you can cry if needed. ”

“ you have to run away. ”

“ i just wanna be yours. ”

“ ashes, we all fall down. ”

“ i’m hoping you’ll understand me. ”

[suicidalprettyboy-archive-blog]

canon: gives no information on a character except for a name and sparse backstory

me: mine now

[fearincarnate-archive-blog-deac]

If you're willing to do horror threads, reblog this.

[suicidalprettyboy-archive-blog]

“Didn’t you know that it was a bad idea to get into a car with me?” Sounding completely unfazed by the speed they were travelling at and only half paying attention to the road. “I’ve totalled more cars than Abrams can count. Old man’s not too happy with me about that.” A laugh followed, only after that did he decide to put his attention where it needed to be.

[mxzikeen-blog]

Great. Another tortured soul looking to unload on the bartender. Where did this stupid stereotype come from, and why did people insist on trying to do it here. “You want to drink, or knock yourself out? I suggest the latter. And a Death in the Afternoon.” Maze grabbed the liquor off the bar, pouring the drink without waiting to hear his answer. “Here.”

[suicidalprettyboy-archive-blog]

“Isn’t the champagne meant to be chilled?” He was more a fan of straight drinks, but he’d watched some of the tenders at his own club work some alcoholic magic with making the drinks. “Haven’t had some good absinthe in a while though. Where’d you get it?”

[suicidalprettyboy-archive-blog]

He was walking the streets to find a friend of his, one that he always met up with when he’d run a little low on his substance of choice.

While minding his own business, he spotted someone walking in the opposite direction and coming towards him. The night sky made everything dark, but with his vampire vision he could see that they were staring at him, at the scars on his face.

On edge due to first of all being outside but secondly from the withdrawals, he was extremely irritable, so he walked with a purpose and walked up to the other, stopping right in front of them. “The fuck are you looking at?” He asked, then began to walk off again without even giving them a chance to respond.

[suicidalprettyboy-archive-blog]

Hole in the wall

Send me “Hole in the wall” for our characters to be imprisoned in neighboring rooms.

He came to. Dizzy, but awake. He sat up and the room he was in was completely unfamiliar to him. It was bare with just the bed and a window. It looked almost like a holding cell. He considered getting up to break himself out, but then he heard voices. Voices he didn’t want to hear. Even though he couldn’t tell if they were German or Russian, they were familiar to him and they caused him to panic.

After getting over the initial panic, he realised just why he’d heard the voices so clearly. There was a small hole in the wall and they were talking to a woman in the room next to him. After adjusting himself to actually see who she was, he nearly vomited.

Rose. It was Rose. He had gotten her tied up in all of this and if anything happened to her, he wouldn’t be able to live with the guilt.

After a few moments of waiting to make sure that the two hunters had gone, he tapped at the hole to get her attention. “Rose,” he started at a whisper, not even considering speaking above it for the sake of both his and her lives, “we need to,” he struggled, “we need to get out of here. This is the.. the…” If his heart beat like a living person, it would have burst through his chest by this point. “The Society of Leopold…” He braved on, even though it was clear through his shaky voice that he was struggling to hold himself together. “These are bad people and we… and we need to stick together.” He trusted her enough not to abandon him if she was given the chance to escape with her life, but all the worst conclusions were jumping out at him and he was crumbling beneath their weight. “Please, don’t leave me.”