#theabaddon

The first person sending me “Hangover” gets to wake up beside my Character in a Vegas hotel, married to each other after a party night in the city of sin.

                    { ♞ } —War foggily remembers the last time he had a hangover. If his long memory served him correct, the last time was in fact the morning after some brilliant, or dumb depending on how you looked at it, creature figured out that month old berries stored in a cave properly made a juice that made living in constant fear seem a little more bearable and less of something to worry about.

                                 That being said, waking up with a splitting headache and a dry mouth that practically tasted like every bad decision he ever made in his existence, the night before must have been one Hell of a party. The only reason War knew it was morning was because his suit jacket had managed to become lodged in the blinds and was now giving the morning sun a free pass into his hotel room, which was doing nothing to help his headache.

                                  The Horseman gave an irritated grunt and rolled on his side, lazily pulling the sheets over his head and burying his face into the crook of sleeping companion’s neck. It was not often that the youngest of the Apocalypse’s foursome went to bed alone, so for one glorious moment he was able to fall back asleep believing he had wound up with some person either off the streets or the party he had attended last night.

                                  Then all his acute senses decided to finally kick in and kindly informed him that he was sharing a bed with a demon, a very powerful one at that. He did not sleep with demons on the regular, but it was not something new… however, after cracking open an eye to assess the situation while also wanting to return to ignoring the fact the sun was up, what was new was the fact that he recognized the red hair splayed out on the pillow like a crime scene; Abaddon. He also noted the sheets and blankets were obnoxiously pink, and with a sigh that screamed ‘fuck everything this particular morning’ the old being committed to sit up and looking about. It was very clearly a honeymoon suite at first glance, with everything pink, red, and white with tacky hearts on everything.

"Folding tables are not the devil, I can confirm no demon has ever possessed a folding table."

BUT CAN YOU HANDLE IT

bitches can’t handle “the abaddon” ;)

are you dead bc i pushed it in you