abaddonian-blog

[abaddonian-blog]

swordofcassiel--

Their words held only the barest hint of politeness; Cassiel no longer deemed Abaddon worthy of niceties. So long as they had been opposite sides of the same force fighting the Horsemen, Cassiel had felt a sense of kinship towards the demons. They were no longer enemies, or even opposed. But Abaddon had forfeighted their not-quite-friendship when she’d decided to assist Kiara with destroying the population. Cassiel did experience regret at this change: they had enjoyed her company in the stretches of time between Abaddon’s chaos.

“You have such positive things to say about a world you assist in destroying,” Cassiel remarked, hand not moving from its warning stance. They did not particularly want to kill Abaddon, but if it was necessary, they were unhesitating. The demon’s general appeal to them would not prevent them from striking her down if she proved herself desirious of such an outcome. They found it particularly annoying that Abaddon was warning them not to cause a scene–as if causing a scene wasn’t the entirety of her own character.

“Positive things about you,” Abaddon remarked, grin looking more like a baring of her teeth than anything. “Let’s not get our wires crossed, dear. This world showed little kindness to me in recent years. I simply seek to pay it back: no one likes a debtor.” She’d lost her pride, her titles -- even her wings at some point; her mouth grew bitter with the grinding of her molars, every growing second a venom in her veins -- there was little left for her on this plane.

“After all, evil is relative and boring,” she quipped, pressing in closer, eyes fixed on the grail their hand remained unmoved from. “But philosophical musings aside, let’s not have a fight over this now. I’m simply here to enjoy the party.”

[abaddonian-blog]

mynameis-kiara:

“Watching the blood ooze out of Harvey’s eyes was possibly the most beautiful thing I’ve ever had the pleasure of witnessing,” Kiara replied indirectly with a half-cocked grin. While she knew she wasn’t being talked to, she wanted to add her two cents. “Casey was almost just as good. Almost.” Her gaze averted from one person to the next, mentally checking down her list. She felt like a little kid in a candy shop; there was so much delicious sin to eat and she hardly knew where to even start. 

Getting down onto a knee, Kiara dosed her finger into the puddle of black blood and sucked the liquid off. “Mmm, delicious. Tastes like cotton candy. You should really give it a try, sweetie-pea,” she said somewhat condescendingly toward her farrier, straightening herself up. Once she got up to her feet, she felt a shoulder bristle against her and found herself eye-to-eye with the only and only Jessica Chastain. “You’ve got nothing to fear from me. Go.” Raising an eyebrow at her partner’s antics, she let out a mild scoff and inched herself closer toward the infected person. Her finger rested on his chin, raising it upward as she looked down at him in disapproval. “So, my dear,” she said in an overly honeyed tone as she canted her head toward Abaddon. “What should it be this time?”

“That’s nasty,” Abaddon protested, grimacing as Kiara practically smacked her lips after cleaning her fingers. “We have got to talk about standards one of these days. Can’t you just like do a vampire thing? Take a big ol’ chomper out of someone instead of licking floor-blood?”

She did a quick circle around Kiara and her chosen victim, ignoring the rest of the mass panic around them. “Well, we watched Harvey’s eyes pretty much melt out his head,” she mused, leaning in to tap the poor guy on the forehead. “For a rapist... Can I say something like castration? I’m really glad Hollywood starting outing people for being shitbags. Makes this job much easier.”

She glanced away from the chaos -- a hard thing to do, indeed -- casting a look over at the familiar faces. “What of team savior?”

[abaddonian-blog]

swordofcassiel:

Where: the Red Carpet When: early in the evening Availability: open

The neutral getup was not purely Cassiel refusing to play along with the world any longer: it was practical, too. Easy to move, to conceal weapons inside their jacket without alarming anyone (armed security notwithstanding, the angel always preferred to secure their own protection in case of emergency). They had their Grail back–finally–and its presence was a calm cold steel in the midst of wild tension.

They moved instinctively, skirting photographers and moving away from those dressed too conspicuously, hugging the edges of the crowds. Cassiel had no idea what to expect here, so they were behaving more like a bodyguard without any particular charge than a partygoer. When Donato’s familiar bitter visage moved within their field of vision, they moved instictively toward him, hand going to the hilt of the blade surreptitiously. They were so focused they almost didn’t notice someone moving to stand in their path and stopped short before running them over. “Excuse me.”

“You know,” Abaddon interjected, stepping in between Cassiel and their intended target, grinning -- she didn’t actually care to guard Donato much; that much would be Heath’s problem, not hers. “All these eons, and I really do love this decade the most. Leather jackets suit you well, Cassie,” she said, hand moving to suppress their hand as it reached for their grail. She wouldn’t be enough to stop the angel if they were determined; all these years and she’d only learned how to dodge them effectively, not fight.

“Careful with that thing,” she said flippantly, though she eyed it warily -- to do anything but regard the grail with wariness while it was being wielded by Cassiel would be disrespectful. “Let’s not cause a scene here, dear. If you have any quarrel with me ghosting, we can sort it out in better ways.”

[abaddonian-blog]

Where, when: Oscars, after the chaos starts Availability: Group 2

“You know what? I’m glad Kiara got rid of Harvey Weinstein. Apocalypse isn’t all that bad, now, is it?” Abaddon called gleefully, swinging an arm around one of the terrified partygoers trying to flee, patting them firmly on the shoulder, before shoving them back into the crowd, brushing her hands off. She sighed, sniffing disdainfully at all the black blood pooled near her, opening up her clutch and pulling a pair of gloves out, snapping them on delicately.

“Better,” she remarked, grabbing an infected person and sending them careening closest to the world-savior next to her. “Ah, ah,” she said, wagging a finger and grinning wildly. “I’m afraid I can’t let you get much closer to her than that. She’s feeling a little under the weather; don’t want you getting sick, now, do we?”

[abaddonian-blog]

32: WITH A BANG

Welcome to Hollywood, Abaddon! You never thought you’d make it to this day, did you? Does it truly matter? For something as ritzy as the Oscars, you would’ve chosen an outfit with a little more pop, but you’re not here for the Oscars, are you? No, you’re here to attend the world’s funeral, to celebrate its death in a shallow grave.

[abaddonian-blog]

countingbluecars--

“I know, right?” Isaiah breathed out a laugh, “Honestly it feels like it’s been a fuckin’ coast to the end times since the year started.” He drank the coffee that Abaddon had gifted him, it searing hot on his tongue compared to the lukewarm coffee he’d been nursing before. Pulling a face at the burn on his tongue, Isaiah swallowed before saying, “Maybe it would.”

Setting the coffee down, Isaiah picked a piece of donut off of the chunk that Abaddon dropped onto the plate again, and popped it into his mouth. “Oh y’know,” he said around the food in his mouth, “people dyin’; getting final notice messages; pretty standard fare for the apocalypse.”

He took another sip — more cautious this time — of his coffee. “Oh!” He jumped, almost spilling his coffee on him as the realization hit him. “I proposed! I’m getting married!”

“Whoa there, hold your horses,” Abaddon laughed, watching as Isaiah practically launched out of his seat, chuckling richly both at his actions and for the horse related wordplay she was able to use without a punishing round of coughing. “I assume to Grace,” she added on drily, raising her eyebrows. “Congratulations,” she tacked on, hurried but no less genuine, the first somber and real sentiment to leave her mouth in quite a while.

“Hopefully there’s world enough to spare when the wedding date rolls around. I am getting a save the date, right?” She asked.

“When are you thinking of having the ceremony? Provided we don’t all die before then,” she asked, grinning.

[abaddonian-blog]

Ouija Board

Tabitha: Alright, burgers it is.

Tabitha: Do demons have schedules? If so what works for you?

Tabitha: Or do you just do whatever?

Abaddon: You know that meme that's "bottoms up and the devil laughs"? That's me as a bartender.

Abaddon: But don't worry about prior engagements, my dear. I'll clear them for you.

[abaddonian-blog]

countingbluecars ( isaiah. )

Isaiah’s eyebrows raised, eyes going wide, when the demon dropped into the seat across from him. The mix of fear and sadness didn’t stop his mouth from twitching up in a small smile and letting out a puff of air from his nose. “Y’know, I think I saw a tweet or something that said the “End Times”,” he made the quotes with his hand, “were going to be signalled by Trump / Pence, not trumpets.”

His tongue darted out, and he tilted his head looking down at the coffee that Abaddon had offered him. “Uh, I mean…,”  he trailed off, a shrug and a shake of his head the only continuation of the thought before he took the coffee and had a sip. “Y’know, at this point — does it matter too much?”

A search of his little table, and Isaiah closed his laptop. He grabbed the plastic plate that had about a third of a donut sitting on it, and slid it towards Abaddon. “Want some? I’m not sick.”

“That’s... pretty accurate, actually,” Abaddon commented, amused. “This year has... just been going downhill. Can anyone say they’re surprised by how the year is going, given how it started? Seems like the apocalypse is a little late in coming, really.” She said, unfiltered commentary just coming out uninhibited as she settled in, tucking her legs under herself easily.

“Maybe voracitosis would be a mercy-kill at this point,” she mused, shrugging, as she accepted the proffered donut, tearing off a corner and dropping the rest back on the plate. “So big guy, how are things cracking? What’s shakin’, bacon? Minus world-ending shenanigans and such, of course.”

[abaddonian-blog]

Ouija Board

Tabitha: No Brooklyn Nine-Nine then? That sucks.

Tabitha: Hm, maybe - if the conversation's good.

Abaddon: Yeah, the great beyond sucks. Don't go into the light, Tabitha!

Abaddon: And please, as if I could ever hold an uninteresting conversation in my life. I'm offended.. All these weeks of ouija boarding & still no faith.

[abaddonian-blog]

motherofabominations ( babylon. )

Sighing for what was probably the fifth time in the past ten minutes, Teresa wondered what had compelled her to get into tattooing of all things. The pay was lousy, the clients could never make up their minds, and she ended up going home with cramps in her fingers more times than not. The only true reward from it all was getting to see her art permanently on other’s bodies. 

Nodding at her current customer as they finally decided to take their leave after an extremely long consultation, her eyes drifted towards the clock on her wall. It was well past the time she usually went on break and so she quickly decided to skip eating entirely; a tiny bit eager to head next door, and not in the mood to deal with the lunch crowd who no doubt had beaten her to the closest Subway already. 

The jingle of the flower shop’s bells had become as familiar to her as her own shop’s in the past weeks but she wasted no time in revering in the fact before started scouring the shop for the blonde. Abby was easy enough to find, brandishing a pair of clippers in front of the roses smug smile already in place. “If I say sorry will you promise not to use those things on me?”

“Use these?” She said, gasping in faux shock. “On my favorite customer? I would never,” she offered, grinning and putting the shears down. “Although, I have to say you spend far more time looking than actually buying,” Abby accused lightly, scolding Teresa as though she were holding something more menacing than a few roses.

“So what will it be today? Carnations, tulips, orchids? -- I’ll give you an arrangement for free if you can impress me with a good floral pick up line off the top of your head,” she said, grinning and laying the roses down reverently and rounding her way back around to the front of the counter and leaning there.

[ au ] a rose by any other name

[abaddonian-blog]

countingbluecars ( isaiah. )

Location: rando coffee shop Date: sometime in october Availability: open

Isaiah tapped the tabletop beside his laptop for a beat before letting out a sigh. The sources that he’d been tracking for what seemed like years were slowly blipping out one by one — their blogs getting a final, fearful post of riots or disease or both before going stagnant; before becoming archives.

He was getting more and more concerned emails with a side of terrified from his fellow conspiracy bloggers.

‘—I.F., I know you’re in the centre of some of this shit (at least from what you’ve been posting on BCOM) but I have to tell you I’m going dark; this is what I prepped for….’

‘—I.F., I went looking for answers and I found your blog. This is the end times isn’t it? You’ve been talking to demons. This is what we need to do — we need to get off this corner of the web and go dark we need to spread the message of….’

‘—I.F., I’m scared. What do you….’

‘—I.F., I’m terrified. There are too many patients and not enough resources; the govt has abandoned us to save themselves….’

Isaiah clicked out of the emails as fast as he could, one right after the other. He crouched over his laptop, bringing his hand to his forehead and rubbed. The world was going to shit, people were dying, this was— this was real. It wasn’t just some sandwich board preacher on the street corner yelling about the end times ( though they’d gotten more frequent, Isaiah had noticed, he saw them screaming while looking ill ).

“Fuck,” he said, blinking rapidly as the weight of the post he’d just made hit him, “the world really is ending isn’t it? We’re three down, one to go.”

“Astute observation, hon,” Abaddon said, dropping down into the seat opposite him. “I’m glad the art of counting hasn’t been lost yet.” She put down a cup of coffee and nudged it over with tentative pushes, blinking and tilting her head as she settled further into her chair. “You know what I want to do?” She asked, grinning, a sure sign that she was about to answer her own question. 

“Play the trumpet. They always said that the end of the world would be heralded by trumpets and I’m a sucker for a good brass line. Thoughts?” She coughed into the crook of her arm, still beaming. “Oh, the coffee is fresh, by the way. No cream, sugar, or voracitosis. Cross my heart, swear on... whatever’s sacred now.

“Trust me. Well, no, that’s a terrible point. Trust me or not, trust that I respect the sanctity of a good coffee.”

[abaddonian-blog]

mynameis-kiara ( kiara. )

“Well,” Kiara started off, putting on a half-cocked smile as she tried not to be irritated by this woman’s interesting personality. But she was the perfect fit for a fake significant other to piss off her dad – the rebellious cause, always creating situations out of nothing and smiling the whole entire time. And if she were being honest with herself, she was attracted to that. But she wouldn’t let Abigail know that “You only like me because I’m stinking rich,” she scoffed out in response, edging her fingers upward the blonde’s chest, mostly to be a tease. “Of course you’re getting well compensated. Five thousand should do it,” she said almost dismissively. Money was never an issue when her father was the head honcho of one of the biggest movie studios in all of Los Angeles.

Going along for the ride, Kiara moved along with the other woman. Once they bumped into her father’s back, she bulged her eyes once he turned around. “Dad,” she exclaimed gleefully, mouth agape in faux surprise. Her arm draped loosely over Abigail’s shoulder, pulling her in and leaving no space in-between them. Anything for the cause, she quietly told herself. “This is my amazing girlfriend. Abby. You’ve met her.”

Her father looked at the blonde up and down with an air of non-chalance. The disdain was obvious as much as he tried to hide it. Pursed lips, sharp breath intake.  “God,” she leaned in to whisper into the other woman’s ears. “This is easily worth five thousand.”

And just for good measure, she flashed the brightest grin she could and stared defiantly at her father.

“We’re so hopelessly in love and flying to Las Vegas tomorrow to elope.”

“Hello, sir,” Abigail greeted half-heartedly as Kiara went about introducing her rather effusively, reaching up to hold her hand as she swung an arm around her, leaning into the whisper. “It’s your five thousand. Gotta say, makes me feel like an escort though,” she replied, taking the time to press a leisurely blatant kiss on her neck as if they weren’t standing right in front of Kiara’s father. 

He looked her up and down and she slanted a grin at him; his disapproval only amused her further. “In love. Yes,” she hummed in agreement, glancing momentarily up at Kiara. “My hometown. Las Vegas,” she affirmed, unflappable as ever, even as Kiara mentioned a wedding. “I suppose this would be a poor time to ask for your blessing, Mr. R?”

She shrugged. “It’s happening regardless,” she said in a terrible stage whisper. “I just think your approval would mean a lot, sir. Twenty first century unconditional love and all for your daughter.”

[abaddonian-blog]

Ouija Board

Tabitha: How good is the Wifi in the Great Beyond?

Tabitha: Since you know all about town, where's the best place to get a burger?

Abaddon: The wifi there is fine, unless you're streaming Netflix. Then it gets shaky.

Abaddon: Cassell's Hamburgers... or so I hear. Does this mean you're treating me?

[abaddonian-blog]

Renee → 'The Squad' || [Uni AU]

Paul: ✔️[ read 5:13pm ]

Paul: ✔️ [ read 7:37pm ]

Paul: Okay... I have to interject here. Can we not do something risky, dangerous, slutty, or otherwise involving a lack of clothes?

Paul: I'm just thinking of the whole class here. What about something.. semi-classy? A glamour campout in the woods or something.

Paul: People are shy. Think of the people.

Renee: Okay, no seriously. I'm not thinking of the shy people, not doing fucking togas BECAUSE it's been around forever, not doing whatever the fuck outlandish thing Abs has suggested. Because NO.

Renee: What I'm trying to say is, the list is everything but clothes (though, I'm hesitant because I think a certain someone *cough*Satan*cough* will find a way to ruin that as he ruins all things. And yes, before you say anything, I do remember you're in this chat, I just don't care.) and risky business.

Renee: Or more shortly, most of you are actually like totally useless and I don't know why I keep this group chat or ask for help.

Renee: Oh, and Satan, for fuck's sake, alcohol is what you guys are supposed to be providing. So don't look at me for that. I cannot do EVERYTHING.

Grace: ^^^^

Grace: we should all take a vote!

Grace: we just need some good idea suggestions now :]

Isaiah: @Paul: why would shy people even bother to come and also if you're not ready to have me get RIPPED, get mostly naked, and PRETEND i can dance then are u really ready to party?

Isaiah: fuck what did abigail say once...

Isaiah: remind me, abs, it was something about me and grinding or half naked or both or smthg idk it was at the last party and i had like four ciders

Isaiah: actually i think we were both drunk

Isaiah: takling about mlm/wlw solidarity stuff IDK i was DRUNK

Isaiah: and tbh 'risky, dangerous, slutty, or otherwise involving a lack of clothes' sounds like me on a weeknight; i'm still class af tho fite me

Isaiah: also Renee understands the creative process && she does give a good reason to be #skeptical tho......

Isaiah: with satan..... it's HIM waht else can you EXPECT i mean HONESTLY let the man be nude just call it art trust me i'm gay AND and artist

Isaiah: also again @Abs: have you seen that watermelon slice bikini video? if you know what i'm talking about, that's what i thought of immediately

Isaiah: @Satam: alcohol other than just six two-sixes of fireball and a bunch of crazy straws pleASE

Isaiah: Satan*

Isaiah: and and I agree with Gracey -- voting from the suggested ideas Renee said -- and also i vote for my own idea even tho Gracey's is great i just don't like my legs in those knee-highs y'know?

Satan: nay, if u wanna go down on me so bad all u gotta do is ask

Satan: but if not ur gonna wanna stop riding my dick so bad in the group chat

Abigail: @isaiah: you gave me a lap dance in the name of mlm/wlw solidarity, best night of my life

Abigail: also motto of any social we throw is go big and be ready to grind with half-naked isaiah or go home; go risky slutty and dangerous or go homeeeeee

[abaddonian-blog]

quaiintrclle ( renee. )

As gaze settled on Abigail further, it somehow settled for a moment too long, lingering maybe a touch on that just too short skirt, expression reading somewhere between contemplative and amused, before a smile, falsely demure, flickered into being, even as amusement glittered in eyes. “Why, I have no idea what you’re talking about. The chapel isn’t for anything but prayer. Everyone says so and I certainly would have no idea what extracurricular activities might happen there. Spreading rumors isn’t nice.” The expression fell away replaced with a smirk, “Especially when we both know you didn’t need little birds to tell you a damn thing. I just let you leave because getting caught is not on brand for you.”

Head tipped back just a touch, as she paused for the sake of her cigarette. “And I’d be nice. I mean, I don’t mind the whole resident troublemaker thing but if you don’t watch yourself, next time it’ll finally be you instead of me,” she said, teasing lightly. “She hates you too. She just can’t back the feeling. She’s doubled my punishment this time because I won’t implicate you.”

A disgusted noise slipped from lips, as she shifted, “And you know what else? She’s been talking to my parents.” A sigh followed, “Aside from the lecture and punishment routine, she called me in to let me know they’re coming because they can’t even just try to be normal and simply tell me themselves. So lucky me, I get to spend my weekend with Maman and Papa.“ French accent she covered particularly well, for the most part, colored the names as she winced at the idea of a weekend with them. Another drag from a cigarette that was slowly burning to ash, before she frowned, “It’s going to be fucking awful.”

Abigail bit down on her lip, averting her gaze immediately as Renee curled smoke around the words chapel and prayer, as she watched clever eyes jump around the hem of her skirt. Empowerment came on the back of fear, adrenaline like a shot of brash boldness and cautious wariness. She could feel blood rush up into the tops of her cheeks as she looked around furtively, gratified to see no one around but hyperaware that Renee could see the pink rise through her veins. “Some kind of worship was going on,” she snapped. “I distinctly remember being on my knees,” she said, with every ounce of composure and pride she could muster up. “So if not for prayer, than for what else?”

Swallowing and regaining her footing -- after all, let’s be clear here, she ran the gossip and girls of this school -- she grinned, although her blush kept burning bright on through the spiderveins of her cheeks. “Sounds like I owe you one for taking the fall,” she practically purred. “When do you plan on collecting?” She edged around the table, sidling closer, hip knocking softly into the surface to jar her slightly, plucking the cigarette from Renee’s fingers and letting her eyes hesitate over her lips. She pursed her lips and brought her cheekbones into high contrast, taking a long pull from it before returning it to Renee.

“Your parents sound a right menace,” she said, still dangerously close and emboldened by the empty courtyard. Smoke curled into the column of Renee’s neck as she exhaled, and she admired the aesthetic of it for a quick minute before flicking her eyes back up. 

“Need a good Catholic girl to play your friend? Or to relax you after their visit? Just say the word,” she said, canines flashing and grinning like the cat that got the canary.

rebel without a cause || [boarding school au]

[abaddonian-blog]

Ouija Board

Tabitha: I would, but I don't think ouija boards have a picture option.

Tabitha: Demons eat burgers? Color me shocked.

Tabitha: Depends, how far do you think?

Abaddon: Damn, Ouija board need to step up so we ghouls and demons can get nudes from the great beyond.

Abaddon: And seeing as how you came to LA based on a board... I'm fairly confident you'll go as far as needed.

[abaddonian-blog]

Ouija Board

Tabitha: Are you going to ask for nudes again?

Tabitha: Good, I miss the Strip as you've probably guessed.

Abaddon: S-E-N-D N-U-D-E-S

Abaddon: Or treat me to a burger now that you're here.

Abaddon: How far are you willing to go to see if demons are real?