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#told you i'd do it
theflyingfeeling · 4 months
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made these for me but you may look~
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serotoninlinus · 6 months
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everyone please Consider🩸
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hychlorions · 29 days
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a what-if i've been thinking about for forever... trucy knowing the truth before anyone could tell her
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bitter-hibiscus · 4 months
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Kyle forgot to charge his ring..
[inspired by this! idea from @jasontoddsgaythoughts LOL]
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poorly-drawn-mdzs · 5 months
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i wanna know more about svsss menopause
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They synced their periods together too well. Now they are synced through their perimenopause years.
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“Nah I don’t want to play this silly game”
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tonbane · 4 months
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Drew the squad based on @draw-the-squad-like-this 's [post here] 😎 reblog to support and all that
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sergle · 5 months
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I really truly, from the bottom of my heart, hate you bitches so much, because on the tiktok of literally COCK AND BALL jokes w brittany broski, there were a few notes/messages like this:
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And I KNOW you don't think anyone's going to check. You had someone go into your askbox and say "hiii brittany broski is shitty about palestine she's really ignorant :/" and you went oh omg I didn't know!! thanks for telling me! So I checked! This is in reference to her talking in her podcast, because people were asking why she hadn't done any big press statements about Palestine, you didn't retweet this or that, you must not care, don't you care, what's your stance, etc etc please say more OKAY COOL. So what's going on there? What did Brittany say on her podcast? Is she a Bad Person? Can I have some transcript, please? ____ "Hey guys, before we get into this week's episode, I want to talk to you about the ongoing and prolonged suffering and loss of life in Gaza, in Israel, and the oppression of Palestinian people widespread. I don't ever want it to be a question that I would ever not be against the oppression of any group of people, that I would ever stand on the side of the oppressor." "There was a lot of fear of misusing my platform." ... "I will admit that I was nervous to talk about it, because I don't want to say the wrong thing. And this is too fucking serious of an issue to misspeak, or to spread misinformation, or to speak over or for someone." ... "So I want to take a moment on my biggest platform- which is this podcast, to say that I stand with the people of Palestine, I stand for the liberation of Palestinian people." ... "Every day, to log on to social media, and be just inundated with graphic, unimaginable violence, and loss, and grief, it's just--There are no words." ... "And I feel helpless. That's part of it too, when you feel helpless, the last thing you want to do is talk to people about it-- but visibility is a resource in and of itself. And I can offer that." ... "The outpouring of rage and passion online, and anger at what's happening, I would argue needs to be dedicated and focused on our elected officials. We live in a democracy- albeit an inherently flawed one- we live in a democracy where we have elected officials who were elected and put in power to represent us, and if we feel misrepresented, if we feel underrepresented in foreign affairs? These officials have public phone numbers and emails. There are scripts available online to express your disdain and your rage, and unfortunately that's one of the only ways we'll see actionable change."   "If you expected more from me, it's a terrible feeling- but I don't want to center myself, this needs to be all eyes on Palestine right now, where the real activism is happening. I would encourage you to follow journalists that are on the ground, people who are in Gaza, we need to be listening to them. I would also hope that we're at a point in this conversation where I can express my desire to stand in solidarity with the people of Palestine and that NOT meaning or suggesting or condoning anti-Semitism of any kind. There's a rise of anti-Semitism and islamophobia in the United States and it's just-- it's disgusting, and it's scary, so I want that to be said too. I just wanted to share that I am experiencing part of this collective sense of helplessness and hopelessness-- but it DOESN'T HAVE to be hopeless. I'm going to include a phone number in the description of this episode where, if you don't know the name of your senators or your Congressman, it's never too late to learn, and you can reach out to them." _______ Hm. What a bitch!! Yeah, just so ignorant and uncaring. Obviously she's not keeping up with anything. Should've retweeted more shit ig!
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an-au-blog · 5 months
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(continue my thoughts) After omega!Sanji stops his scent blockers, for the rest of the crew nothing really changers. He doesn't really smell different because he always smells pf cigarettes and food anyways. Even the alphas in the crew have to get really close to him to see the difference. When he doesn't reek of that, he puts on so much perfume that it drowns it out quite well. It also helps that he showers every day to keep all the biological smell off unlike some crew members...
Still, there are times that his scent peeks through and causes problems for him.
They got into a dumb quarrel again and started arguing. Zoro stands up, Sanji rolls up his sleeves and they headbutt, grinding their teeth. But Zoro's eyebrows relax and his eye flinches. He pulls back and crosses his arms.
Zoro cleaning his throat: I uh... I'm too tired for this, I'm gonna go take a nap.
Sanji watching him walk away: You running from a fight? Come back here stupid marimo, we're not done yet!
But he doesn't come back, when told, and Sanji doesn't follow him because he's still overwhelmed by Zoro's scent. He didn't know it, but Zoro left for the same reason.
Slowly their fights turn shorter and shorter and Zoro's workout sessions and naps turn longer and longer. Which wasn't good for Sanji's sanity, because all the training made him smellier, and all the napping made he look comforting. Sanji even dared to sit next to him while he was napping and fall asleep curled into him. They woke up at nearly the same time but agreed to never talk about it.
Sanji had gotten so good at holding back his nosebleeds that he only bled a little and after he got back to the bathroom or in a secluded area. He couldn't have anyone knowing it was the mosshead that did this to him...
Surprising Chopper is the first to notice. So he tries to "train" Sanji by going him pictures of Zoro, like he used to do with Nami. Sanji clenches his heart and goes "Damn it Chopper, are you trying to kill me? I don't need that stuff. Gross#" but then takes them anyway.
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frogsare-friends · 5 months
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friendly reminder that bi people don't owe you anything. bi women that have a 99% preference for men are bi, not straight. bi women that have a 99% preference for women are bi, not lesbian. bi women that choose to only date women (for safety, comfort, etc.) are bi and do not want to be lesbians. heteroromantic bisexuals and biromantic heterosexuals are whatever they tell you they are, you don't get to decide their identity. bi men with a 99% preference for women are bi, not straight. bi men with a 99% preference for men are bi, not gay. bi people that align more with pansexuality but say that they're bi are bi. asking someone that's talking about what you view as the opposite gender to "name someone of (what you view as) the same gender that you think is hot" is biphobic. asking someone if they're sure they're "not just heteroflexible" is biphobic. nonbinary bi people don't need to explain their sexuality or gender to you; "but how can they be straight and gay if they're nonbinary?!?!" 1. gender is so fucked, i personally believe nobody's gender is the exact same we all experience gender differently, 2. bisexual isn't half straight and half gay, it's all bi
brought to you by a genderqueer bisexual who's fucking tired. if you're monosexual (yes that goes for straight people, gay men, and lesbians, although most queer people have an easier time understanding it than straight people do and perpetuate biphobia in different ways) and you view bisexuality as half anything, you're wrong. we're not attracted to anyone in a straight or gay way, we're attracted to all people in a bi way. hope that helps
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the-way-astray · 1 day
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you could theoretically read the series in the order 8.5, 9.5, 9 instead of 8.5, 9, 9.5 because books 9 and 9.5 take place parallel to each other but also sophie and keefe never interact between them so hypothetically there should be no difference (and no spoilers either way).
another thing you could theoretically do is alternate between reading books 9 and 9.5. a chapter here, a chapter there. it would be like reading a longer version of unlocked, with the povs alternating between sophie and keefe.
in fact, in theory, there could be a possibility of even less spoilers if you read it 8.5, 9.5, 9. for example, if vespera makes an appearance in unraveled, and you didn't know she would die yet, it could be a really cool way to see her last minute and have an extra layer about her before her death. whereas if vespera makes an appearance in unraveled and you already know she's going to die, it feels a little more empty. not completely meaningless, but like. kinda empty. like if vespera hints at a larger plan or something in unraveled and you didn't know she was going to die, you'd be super excited to see this plan shake out, but now that we know she's going to die something like that wouldn't hit as hard.
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blistering-typhoons · 7 months
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still not over simon's performance in the finale, because as much as I adore the Captain, and Ben's portrayal of him, it's always Julian that resonated uncomfortably close for me. Alongside Pat, I think he was the one person where emotions are concerned that I always wince and go, yikes, ok that's me sometimes. The way it all hits him in an instant and his movements fail, the breath he takes when he looks to Alison and realizes the enormity of the past five years. Simon nailed that desperation and love so, so fucking well and i don't know why i'm still surprised because the man can fucking ACT.
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yeommijeong · 9 months
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I like me better when I'm with you
Mr. Gu & Yeom Mi Jeong Episode 8, My Liberation Notes (2022)
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radio-writes · 7 days
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I'll go with:
"You win"
"Why should I stay?"
"And what will you do? Run from me?"
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It Seems the Devil and I Walked Hand in Hand
300 Followers Event
Warnings: Forced cannibalism, gore, murder, stockholm syndrome
Tags: Alastor x reader, GN reader, yandare, reader goes insane, dead dove do not eat
MDNI
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A humid breeze blew through your hair, the putrid stench of Hell carried with it. Somewhere in the distance, something—whatever it may be this time—exploded, prompting usual screams of terror.
But your heart fluttered, eyes fixated on your friend next to you. You sat side by side with them, on a random hilltop the two of you stumbled upon. It was quiet, but barely out of the chaos of the main pentagram. 
"What? What is it?" They laughed as they finally called you out on your staring.
You almost swooned as their warm brown eyes met yours. "You just have the prettiest set of eyes in all of Hell, that's all."
You had been so proud of that. So happy about how smooth you were at the delivery. Giddy about the blush that crept onto your friend's face.
The same warm brown eyes—Hell's prettiest, as Alastor so kindly reminded you—stared back at you now. 
Unseeing.
Without its owner's head anywhere near.
On a plate placed before you.
Your blood felt like ice as you hung your head low. Unable to think. Unable to feel. Unable to breathe, maybe, you weren't really sure anymore.
"Afraid I might have gotten carried away, dear. I was absolutely starving since you stood me up on our lunch meeting." Alastor's tone was as bright and cheerful as it always was—you could almost argue that it was even happier now. "Of course, I did save you their eyes. I knew how much you just loved them."
He continued on, sighing and swooning about this and that. How it had been a while since he had such a satisfying meal. How it was all thanks to you for leading him to it. How he can't wait to meet more of your friends—if you ever managed to make any after the show he put on for you.
But you sat still, mind unable to comprehend what actually sat in front of you. Alastor might as well have been talking from three rooms away for all you heard from him. His voice almost sounding like it came from underwater, barely able to pierce through the fog in your head.
It was only when the demon who sat across from you stabbed a fork through an eyeball on your plate, did your senses come back. Like a flipped switch, you could hear well again, in time to hear the disgusting squish of the organ, blood and fluids spilling as it was stabbed.
"Don't let it go cold now, my dear. I went through so much trouble to get them intact and still warm for you." Alastor smiled as he sat across you.
One of his elbows rested on the table, hand cradling his cheek as you met his gaze. The gleeful, cold red eyes sickened you much more than the gore he held up. He raised the fork to you. Your friend's eye at the end of it. "Say Aaah~"
You pressed your lips together. Whether to resist the cruel torture, or to keep the bile from coming out, you were unsure. 
Like a stubborn child, you shook your head, arms pushing against the table to get up from your seat. Alastor was behind you in seconds, dissolving and rematerializing through shadows faster than you could blink.
"Nuh uh, dearest. We don't waste good food in this Hotel. What would the papers say if they find out we throw away such scarce resource?" He pressed his body against the back of your chair, securing you back at the table with an easy push.
He leaned over your shoulder, long arms reached around you. You stared as his clawed hands planted themselves on the table in front of you, caging you in, framing that horrid plate.
You felt his breath by your ear, that horribly familiar static prickled your skin, before you heard him speak. "You know, I'm starting to think you like how your friends taste."
You swallowed against your dry throat, eyes wide. Every breath you took was shallow as you tried to shake your head only to be met with a mocking laugh.
"No? Come now, why lie, my dear? It's only us here." Alastor leaned closer over you. The heat of his body inescapable. "This is the third friend this month. Even a child would have learned by now." 
"I'm all you need, darling. Everyone else is just cattle." His voice distorted as he spoke, a threat, a promise, you knew from experience that he'd deliver on.
Faintly you could feel the weight of metal around your neck. It wasn't physically there, no. After all, it's been a while since you've given him a reason to summon that chain. But it never really ever felt absent, specially at times like this.
You sighed in resignation, and braced yourself for that familiar horrible taste. Your hands clenched into fists on your lap—a sight that delighted the demon behind you.
"You win." You said softly. Numbly, you parted your lips, mind wandering away as you let Alastor slide the fork into your slack mouth. You ignored what it was you were chewing, letting your body function through the motions as you fought to keep your thoughts else were. 
You felt a large hand pat your head, bringing you back to the present in time to hear Alastor's praise. "What a good pet you make, my dear."
The plate before you was empty now, Alastor's looming figure having retreated away from your shaking one, back in his seat in front of you.
The horrible rotten taste still lingered in your mouth, but you didn't bother to ask for something to wash it away. You simply stood up, ready to run to your room and force yourself to throw up—again.
"Hm? Running from me now, are we?" Alastor's brows raised as he watched you. "Not that you can, I own you, after all." 
You suspected his words were less of a reminder for you, and more on just him loving to say them.
"And why should I stay?" Your words seemed argumentative, but your tone and the hunch of your shoulders were anything but. "I've already finished my punishment."
"I would say it was more of a treat, really. You have no idea how much I wanted to eat those." He laughed, not really minding that you just stared back blankly at him.
"Besides, you've yet to pay me back for leaving me waiting at Rosie's. So come, sit." An invitation to most, an order to you.
So sat you did. You ignored the smudges of blood on the plate still in front of you. You ignored the bitter taste the that lingered in your mouth. You ignored the growing numbness spreading from your chest to the rest of your limbs.
You ignored yourself.
Mindlessly, you nodded along to whatever gossip Alastor had, almost immediately, began sharing with you.
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Alastor's hold on you had tightened in the past few months. Not only had he pulled you away from the people at the hotel—you were apparently terribly ill, contagious, but fine under his care—but he had also confiscated your phone and TV.
The window in your room was also simply magicked away. He didn't want you getting any funny ideas of leaving him again, after all.
At first you were fine with it. You had a few books in your room, anyway. But after the first two weeks, you've already finished most of them.
Still, they kept you entertained for a little longer after that; you didn't really mind rereading them—for the fourth time, you think.
But then you had that fight with Alastor. You had asked for your phone back, desperate to know what was going on outside your room. Desperate to listen to your music. Desperate to hear another voice aside from your own.
Alastor merely waved off your concern. He let you keep his radio after all. You could simply listen to him. He talked about current events, and played music, and broadcasted all sorts of screams voices. You didn't need anything else.
He didn't quite take it nicely when you had spat that it wasn't enough.
In the fray that followed, your books were lost. Torn to shreds in seconds.
But no matter, you had thought. You still had some paper, a pencil, some paint. While you weren't the best artist around, you doodled the hours away, anyway. Coloring, sketching, filling out every plain, empty gap on the papers you had.
You were quickly running out of material, though. You'd repeatedly ask Alastor to get you more paper, another pencil, even an eraser, every time he came by. But all he kept saying was that he forgot to fetch some, and that he will surely do so next time.
You were always disappointed, but knew better than to start another fight. You didn't want to risk destroying what little paint you had left, after all.
You had began to doodle on your walls. Counting the little details on the wallpaper, even each and crack along your way. You had drawn everything you ever knew existed; from characters you used to liked when you were alive to a freaking sock on the floor. 
The friends he made you eat.
Hastily covered with a drawing of a deer.
By his next visit, Alastor was appalled by the state of your room. He didn't quite appreciate your vandalism. He promptly snapped his fingers and the walls were replaced. Your drawings gone, the wallpaper gone, even the cracks were gone. It was now just a smooth red surface. 
He had taken away the paint, not that there was much left at that point. You thought it was fair anyway, considering you did draw on the walls like an irresponsible child.
You tried cleaning too, just to keep your mind going, your body moving. But no, no, no. Alastor couldn't have his dear friend, and a valued hotel guest, doing such menial labor. 
He easily cleaned the room for you, not a speck of dust left. Barely any furniture left too—he had found them tacky, apparently.
At that point all you had to look forward to were Alastor's visits. Constant, they were. He insisted he brought you your food personally, of course.
You had been suspicious about what he was feeding you, even once outright questioning what you were eating.
He had laughed. "Unless you made any new friends from this room, I can assure you, you aren't eating any sinners, my dear."
You weren't sure how much his assurance was worth, but food was one of the only two things you actually had here. You didn't feel like giving that up, too.
You hated him. Hated him for keeping you here. Hated him for ignoring all your pleas to be let out.
You hated him, but still found yourself jumping from your bed as soon as you heard the door handle rattle. 
You hated him, but him coming to visit meant you had something to do.
The radio by your bed, and Alastor's frequent visits were all you had left.
The isolation was driving you insane, broken only whenever Alastor wanted to.
Alastor was driving you insane, but without him you were completely isolated.
Your sanity felt like a candle burning at both ends, melting far too fast for you to keep it together. You didn't know anymore which torture you preferred. Alastor's presence or absence?
At least, that was a few weeks back.
Because it wasn't like you needed to choose now.
Your food had been appearing on your side table every meal time, instead of coming in carried by the familiar demon.
The radio beside you had been silent for a long while now. Not one terrified scream, not one jazzy tune, not even empty static. 
And of course, Alastor himself hadn't come in to see you in weeks.
You think it's been weeks, at least. He took the clock with him last time he cleaned.
No, there was no need to pick your poison anymore. Alastor had chosen for you.
At first, you had been bitter. How dare he ignore you—or did he forget about you? God, no, he wouldn't. Right? —how dare he not even check in to see if you were even still alive.
How dare he not visit.
And then, you were worried. It was one thing for him not to pop in on you, another thing entirely to miss his shows. He'd never miss an opportunity to broadcast fear over Pride Ring, but your radio had been quiet this whole time. What was keeping him, then? Was he hurt? Was he okay?
Then, and you think it was the worst of them all, you started to miss him. From the moment you woke from restless slumber, your eyes fixated on the door handle, begging it to turn. Your chest ached, praying to hear his silly staticy voice again, even if it was just senseless gossip.
You felt like screaming, begging, pounding on the door for him to visit you. But you knew he wouldn't like that. No, if the others in the hotel found out, Alastor would likely never visit you ever again. 
So you kept to your bed. Your days spent glaring down at the door in desperation, switching only to the radio to do the same, for hours on end. Every little shift you made, the sheets moving under you, felt so deafeningly loud in the empty room.
It was almost maddening.
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"My dear, I have a task for you." Alastor's cheery voice spoke up by your ear.
Your eyes snapped open, greeted by the sight of the demon leaning over your head.
"Nothing too difficult, just a little grocery shopping." He continued on as if he hadn't left you to rot.
You didn't care, nor did you register what his words meant. No, the first thing your body jumped to, your mind went to, was that Alastor was here.
"Al!" The glee in your voice unrestricted as you pushed your sheets away and threw your arms around him. The relief, the absolute refreshment, of feeling another warm body against you again was almost heavenly.
A soft hand patted at your shoulder as he awkwardly stayed there. "Well, good morning to you too, sweetheart." He laughed.
You sat up, eyes wide as you leaned away and took him in. Unmistakably, a very welcomed sight.
He told you about the chore he needed done, truly very simple. Just a literal grocery list. But you held onto every word, every charming staticy syllable falling from his lips as if he was preaching your religion. 
You were determined to memorize it all, not just to complete the task but to simply engrave his voice in your head.
You were so thankful to finally hear something other than your creaky bed. To finally be having a conversation again. To feel human.
It hadn't even click for you that you will finally be heading out.
You were quick in getting the task done, determined to get back to Alastor as fast as you could.
You hadn't notice how your skin thawed in the outside heat compared to the icy room you've been locked in. You hadn't paid mind to everyone's greetings around you. You didn't care for all the flashing lights, and tasty smells, and loud music and laughter and screams around you as finished you little assignment.
You wanted to get things done so you could be by the familiar demon again. His presence almost felt like a drug you've been deprived off for so long, that it physically irked you to be away.
And that's how it was from then on.
You were given a new room at the hotel. Alastor had replaced all the books he destroyed because he just felt so guilty. He had also finally remembered to buy you all those papers and art supplies you asked him to get you. And he had even returned your phone and television to you.
Not that you cared for any of those. You've spent most of your time in Alastor's room anyway, unable to stand a second without hearing his voice. 
You'd cling onto every word he'd say, attentive, obsessed.
Your eye would twitch every time he'd mention someone, anyone. Part of you irritated that he had spent time with someone else other than you. Even more so that he cared enough to remember their name. To say their name.
Soon you not only clung onto his words, but onto him as well. Unable to stand that others spent time with him when you could not. You'd miss meals, miss sleep, drop whatever you were doing to follow him wherever he went. To stay by Alastor's side. 
When he forbade you from doing so, you would follow in secret, or have your own little ways to spy on him. To know what he was doing.
The few times you were away from your owner's side, you could be found standing over a dead sinner. Maybe someone who touched him, maybe someone he mentioned, maybe someone who simply glanced at him for far too long for your liking. Regardless, they were all equally deserving of death in your eyes. How dare they.
Alastor knew of these, of course. And while he was quickly growing suffocated by your constant overbearing presence, he hadn't really bothered to say much.
He still preferred this—this grotesque reflection of his own affections for you—over your defiant little attitude before.
His last straw, however, was now. When you stood over yet another sinner. The light gone from their eyes as you still, repeatedly, shot at their corpse.
The green chain appeared in his clenched fist for the first time in a long while. The collar snapped shut around your neck, but you hadn't even noticed until he gave it a harsh yank.
You were pulled to the side, stumbling over the body by your feet. You looked up, confused, to see Alastor snarling down at you.
"I needed him alive, dear." He said, his annoyance barely kept under control.
"He touched you." You merely replied, as if it was the worst offense, worst sin, in Hell.
"Because we were making a deal, you stupid pest!" Alastor hissed through his teeth, but you merely blinked at him as if you didn't see his point still.
You stood up straighter, keeping your eyes on him. Always on him.
He was so beautiful, so perfect. Everything you needed.
Why had you ever wanted to find anyone more?
"But he still held your hand."
"I'll touch who I want to touch. Do not forget who holds the leash here." His eyes narrowed, chain pulling taught between you.
You smiled at him, loving the way his voice sounded when he was getting angry. It rarely happened now considering how good you were for him, but oh, did it sound like music to you.
Your hands lifted to softly run your hands through the chain by your neck. "You do, of course. I don't question that."
"I need you, Al." You added, soft, almost loving expression on your face as your adored his furious red eyes. "And while I can't force you to stay with me, alone. I can simply just get rid of everyone else. I can be your only one, if I'm the only one left."
"So you've finally flew off the handle, dearest?" His question seemed genuine, not at all in jest.
But you laughed anyway, as if it was the funniest thing ever. "And what if I have?" You grinned at him. "What will you do? Run from me?"
Your fingers gripped the chain suddenly, yanking yourself forward, closer to him. You feel his pull against the chain as well, not to bring you close but simply to keep hold of it. To keep hold of his control over you.
Your eyes lowered, admiring him from up close now. The flicker of uncertainty in his eyes was new, and you couldn't wait to see more new things from him now that you're so devastatingly devoted to him.
"You own me, remember? I'm here forever."
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umbraastaff · 1 year
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It really is wild how much balance's Faerun is a victim of circumstance. Literally just a bunch of aliens came down and brought their war in with them. They totally overwrote the world's current political goings-on by injecting a new war for artifacts of powers beyond mortal comprehension, stopped that by wiping the minds of everyone on the planet, and then ended up luring in a massive eldritch presence that forced all the people of the world to fight against it again. The memory and agency stripped from every single person in a whole universe. Even the divine, their prophecies and paperwork twisted towards this strange new calling. Fuck, dude, the Moon's been fake for years.
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smile-files · 10 months
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you hate me for believing/that we are born for living
so you wish i were dead/you wish i weren't happy
i find it truly tragic/that you murdered your magic
when you said it wasn't real/you chose to kill it
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