you know , cemeteries can be peaceful . something about an eternal place of rest … & a reminder , that death comes to all of us .
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they are accepted . tate cannot continue being ungrateful , not in his state or chained to those walls . some even bring a phantom smile to lips . the particular polaroid in between them all , the one that makes the back of his neck hot & stomach heavy , placed ( + )
“ unfortunately . ” it’s not october yet——& it’s foolish , to be hopeful of a singular day a year . “ it’s been a while , forgot ‘bout me ? ”
Replying to @MORTECONDOTTOS
@MORTECONDOTTOS get out of my damn house
“ what do you want ? ” there’s no anger , like usually , but a hint of slight annoyance . he’s not good with new people——or anyone , for that matter . “ i don’t have any food for you . ”
follows @TAlNTS , few steps back. her walk is rather slow, her demeanor not mysterious but of a curious creature. that's what she was.
a single bullet , both thunder & lightning——some strange pavlovian response that makes his skin feel too tight around his bones , & the fire in his belly set into a stone——heavy , imposing , beneath the muscle . “ what did you say ? , ” ( + )
eyes find the deteriorating thing , far too small & porcelain—made , painted in red as it gushes in think ropes over the dry grass . “ about the helpless ? ” branches protest beneath each step , crouching to observe , to study . a digit finds the exit wound , & ( + )












