hey you can actually pinpoint a moment his heart rips in half

band of be cryptic being cryptic

After.

mentions of @seraphimichael, @seeingvivianne @xzagreusx and like all of their dead pals. They put out the cigarette with the heel of their boot and think about how it's something Michael would have hated. It's not an all the time thing, or at least it wasn't at some point. A time when that he almost swore he couldn't quite remember anymore. Much like those that worshipped God, Nate had compiled their life into two parts. With Michael and Without Michael, that's easier to think about than thinking about that day. Because they don't think about it at all, they can't possibly. There had been so much loss, he had little memorials for everyone, a little grove that he paced back and forth, piles of rocks marking graves that were empty, not even dug but there symbolically. He touches them gently, fingers just brushing stone as he spoke to them, told him about his day, about how things were without them. How the world is darker without their light in it, that everything is heavier. Sometimes they just sit there amongst all the rocks and they think about Vinny or Wolfgang or that guy who'd they'd kissed for the first time and wonder if they should be mourning a lover. If it's alright that they aren't at thirty-fucking-five. It's not like he doesn't miss them, all of the what ifs, romantic or otherwise. No pile is bigger than the pile of rocks that represent Micheal though. The man who had tried to prepare them for this for months prior to hell breaking loose. He had told him that he'd wind up an orphan and he'd done everything he could to try and soften the blow. There was no softening what he'd done. In a panic, it was them that had called their father there that time. And the thing inside Assan had killed him and they still felt.... Everything. All of the time. Zagreus was here with him, another nephilim, a friend and yet he's pretty sure every single time they see each other, they're just thinking of what they've lost. They're what is left of that loud table in the corner at Grazie's every Sunday. They think about what Michael had always said about the differentiation between nephilim and those at Camp Halfblood, that they were nothing like them. That none of them had the capacity to understand them. But even then, those that had understood him and Zagreus, their Atlas, Akara, Kayce, they were gone and now what? Vivianne is there, too. There but different. Every so often they catch each other's eyes. Nate can't look at hers for too long, afraid to see sympathy. They’re in the living room on the floor and he’s just a kid and he’s never focused so hard before, there’s this thrumming under his skin that seems to gather at his upturned palm. Michael offers quiet and focused encouragement and they’re both waiting for something. Something that he’s supposed to be able to do. Something that he’s never quite been able to do before. There’d been too much doubt before, perhaps they hadn’t wanted it hard enough, but on a quiet night in July, they summon a blade and they’re so stunned that they nearly drop it. Michael seems just as shocked and for just a moment, a split second, when eyes go from blade in the hands of a child to that of each other, Nathaniel swears he sees real pride in Michael’s eyes for the first time. And now, curled on ground in the shadow of a pile of stones, he wondered how right his father had been. The seraphim that had trained them to kill, the mentor they'd practically killed themselves.

“You’re going to get hurt.” They get told as they’re already bandaging themselves up in the kitchen one evening, mentor hovering tense on the other side of the island.

“And I’ll learn from it.”

That's what they'd said that day all those years ago, With Michael. But he can't help but think he'd been sealing his fate. When did he start learning? When did it stop hurting?

guess who's binge watching MLA0 tonight !!!!

Kung pow preg me

stop saying i have bad taste in men annd accpet the fact youll neber be on my level

where. dealer's choice, hehe who. @seraphimichael

The difference in time would never matter to Lilith. Thousands of years had passed, and she had bided her time all the same. She had plotted, and waited, as she'd prepared for the precise moment that gave her the opportunity to strike. Dreams had been slipped into, carefully planted seeds that had needed to be nurtured. To be brought to fruition, so that when the moment did present itself, those that presented a problem would not find themselves in her way. Michael had been no different. His dreams had easily been navigated, information sourced before she'd planted her own seedling. And oh, how he had been the little mouse that found itself within striking distance of her jaws.

"Who was that darling little creature?" A question posed as invisibility shed from her like a second skin. Though, the look upon her face spoke that whatever he may say was already known by the aspect. "Ah, Vivianne, was it? Word is that she's become something so much more tantalizing."

hi jasper

I have no idea when this was sent

WELCOME TO THE OTHERWORLD: A Netflix original. ( 1 / ? ) credit.  feat. @blamedhe ( PERSONALS DO NOT REBLOG. ) Mutuals can. 

oh he deleted it 😭😭😭

Estoy haciendo una especie de squishy de los góticos de south park, me faltan por hacer 2

morgan vc: this bitch....

killing him

your wet emo boy swag has bewitched me body and soul

more tag dump 😩

my brother asked me if i’d ever had mead, then if i even knew what mead was, so i had to remind him that i do in fact have an entire history degree. prompting him to ask, “wait, mead is historical?”