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#your dead lover
billystoilet · 2 years
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GIVING WHAT IS ASKED 🦟
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lieu-rey · 1 month
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uhm uh. rdr jovier.
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Danny couldn't really explain why he always answered this specific summoning ritual. It was like a feeling. One of warmth. Of a mug of hot cocoa in your hands and a nice weighted blanket dropped around your shoulders as a fire blazed in the hearth in front of you, keeping the chill in the rest of the room at bay.
Danny always lost himself in the sensation and found himself back in that stupid circle of protection with that same wierd guy demanding answers. But Danny didn't know anything about a "Lazarus Pit" or a "Pit Madness" let alone a cure for it. Even if he did he wasn't going to tell Red Robin anything after all the times he'd used the marriage summoning spell to get him here.
Earlier on Red had explained it was the only spell known to thier universe that could summon an entity from "The Lazarus Dimension" Which he guessed was another name for the ghost zone and Phantom was the only one to ever be summoned.
Danny couldn't help but wonder why...
After escaping Bird boy and his supernatural pop quiz (oh look, another test for him to flunk) he returns home only to discover his parents had seen him get summoned and accused him of being a ghost that replaced thier baby boy.
Naturalally the next time Red Robin had summoned Phantom he was angry. He was tired and dirty from being on the run from his parents, his worlds US government, and Vlad. Not to mention his own rogues gallery didn't exactly cut him any slack.
So Danny decided that if Red Robin wanted to abuse the power of a marriage ritual than the very least he can do is put his money where his mouth is.
Danny grinned and exited the magic circle, taking delight in Reds widening eyes before he lunged. A kiss sealed the deal, making sure Danny had a safeish place to stay.
After all, married couples in the infinite realms were obligated and even compelled to protect and care for eachother.
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concatenationart · 10 months
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I’m trying to let you know how much you mean
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adharastarlight · 5 months
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Regulus, holding a knife against james' throat: you're dead pretty boy
James who just died on the spot: you think im pretty?
Regulus: you'd make a pretty corpse, i suppose
James sighs wistfully
Regulus internally: wtf? he is kinda pretty tho-
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maegalkarven · 7 months
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And yes, Durge is so narratively appealing to me because all what's going on on a Big Scale is literally Your Personal Fault.
The consequences of your own actions. The evil undead general? You WORKED with him.
The lunatic murderer? She is an annoying little sister who stabbed you.
The tyrant closing black fist over the Baldur's Gate? Your Buddy. You were his FAVORITE.
It's not just some random "evil force takes the wheel and you need to save the world."
I mean, it is, but YOU are the part of this evil force. Everything bad happening around can be easily traced back to you and your evil plan. It's YOUR evil plan (and Gortash's, but you were A TEAM of evildoers, equally into it).
You were SO GODAWFUL the tyrant choking Baldurs Gate sees you and lights up like a candle.
Of course it's narratively pleasing, the entire Dark Urge playthrough is just "and if these are not consequences of my own actions" and it's AMAZING.
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insomnya777 · 2 days
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boat boys coded
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gayrogues · 6 months
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"what if herbert west and [insert other horror weirdguy] made out" interesting but consider the following: what if the bride from bride of re-animator and elizabeth from frankenhooker made out
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papaue00 · 1 year
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rdr2 has many examples of storytelling through gameplay/environment but one example that i don't think ppl have mentioned is arthur being exclusively a dog person. by that i mean he kinda don't gaf about cats, and it's so funny.
(not an anti-cat post, just trying to do a mini analysis on an instance of non-verbal storytelling.)
- he can pet dogs just fine and he will stay there petting them 24/7 if you let him
- he doesn't pet cats
- he affectionately calls dogs "boah", similar to how he calls horses (another animal he loves) boah or gurl. he even invites the dogs to come to him.
- he greets cats with "hi cat" or "hey kitty", not very cold but doesn't quite carry the same fervor in which he calls out to dogs or horses.
- when he gets drunk, if you praise dogs, he'll excitedly yell out at the sight of them, calling them pretty, etc
- he just greets cats kinda... normally. again, seems very tepid compared to how he treats the doggies. (unless i've missed some lines)
many people complain he doesn't pet cats. rarely do i see them ask why. but if you look at it from a storytelling/characterization angle, if you assume rdr2 gameplay is not segregated from but instead intentionally complementary to the storytelling? yeah, it's probably the game's way of telling you he is meh on cats.
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sunfir3rain · 2 months
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some of y'all have a way too romanticised version of dutch van der linde in your heads, i think🤔
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s3lkieboy · 8 months
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I wholeheartedly believe dazai survived that gunshot point blank to the head, not because I'm a dazai stan coping, but because that mf cannot and will not die. He wants to die so bad that it has basically made him immortal. I refuse to believe that mf is even capable of dying at this point. The gods won't let him out of spite.
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surplus-of-sarcasm · 11 months
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Romance Your Demons
TW: Blood, bruises, asphyxiation attempt, gun mention, violence
Happy late birthday, 🎂 @thelazywitchphotographer
"Darling," Villain growled, baring their teeth in a predatorial fashion.
"Dear," Hero replied languidly, although their eyes were glued to the criminal's balled-up fists, to their arched body, ready to pounce.
They were far too reminiscent of an old, married couple, something everyone and their mother never ceased to point out, much to both the crime-fighter and the evil-doer's chagrin.
The villain rammed into them, the hero's body slamming into the wall with an audible thud, the force just shy away from breaking something.
"Well, this is intimate," the hero scoffed, swinging their leg and slamming it harshly into their adversary's ribs, letting the criminal fall to the ground, spitting blood and a flurry of filthy curses out of their mouth.
The dagger-sharp smirk on the hero's smug face was arguably a more painful blow than that merciless kick. Villain had always been told that their pride would be the end of them.
Well, now it would be the end of Hero too.
Wiping the blood from their mouth, their fingers clawed around Hero's neck, digging into their skin, leaving scratches and bruises in their wake, ripping out shallow breaths from the hero's lungs as their pale face slowly turned a sickly shade of blue.
"You're not laughing now, are you, sucker?" they seethed, loosening their death grip around their enemy's throat by a mere fraction.
Gasping and taking greedy breaths of air, the hero still had the audacity to flash a dirt-eating grin. "No, I s'ppose not."
It made the villain wish to squash the life right out of the crime-stopper's body, to beat them to a bloody pulp on the sidewalk, to empty a gun (that they unfortunately lacked right now) into the jerk's head.
But it also made them want to pull them up against their chest and kiss the hero's cheekbones and bring that oh so pretty blush to their face and neck, one that they'd only seen because Hero was exerting themselves and not because they were flustered.
The hero had dark circles under their eyes and dry skin. They'd lost weight, and not in any way that was healthy, dropping muscle from what was once a gorgeously lean figure. They were young, but their eyes were a hundred years older.
But they were struggling in the criminal's vice-like grip, still fighting for what most would deem a lost cause, still grinning in that stupidly carefree way they did when they were just starting out, barely in high school and nowhere near as broken. And it was beautiful.
The villain wanted to curse themselves, so they did.
"What? Are we just gonna keep cuddling here together for all eternity?" Hero supplied in a mostly sarcastic tone, but the strange edge it had could almost be read as flirtatious.
Villain released them from the bruising grip on their neck, their nemesis took in great breaths of air, their body shuddering as they almost fell to the ground, only for the evil-doer to catch them with a steadying arm wrapped around their waist.
They couldn't even tell when the hero's face went scarlet.
"So, where's the part where you commit homicide?" they asked, raising an eyebrow.
"I'll save that for later, dove. Right now, you're all I can think about," they admitted, almost guiltily.
Surprisingly, they weren't met with another infuriatingly attractive, lopsided smirk. The look on the crime-fighter's face was nothing, if not utterly dazed.
"M-me? But I'm a mess. Like that one article so eloquently put it, I'm a cocktail of problems in a spandex suit with a few witty catchphrases," they replied, laughing humourlessly.
Villain's grip around their waist tightened subtly. "You're just tired. Sure, you could find great use for a physiotherapist, a haircut, a whole, new diatery plan, some basic skin care an-"
"Yeah, a whole makeover. No need to rub it in, though," they attested, only mildly irritated.
The villain rolled their eyes. "My point is, even through all this, you still manage to shine like a diamond in the rough."
"Oh so personality over looks? Got it," they chuckled slyly.
The criminal paused in their walk and pulled their enemy forward by the collar, "Do I have to spell it out for you? You're so goddamn hot even when you're not supposed to be, so awfully dishevelled, and yet here I am," they whispered, their lips almost brushing the hero's ear.
A tense moment of awkward silence passed as the crime-fighter pulled away from them, their eyes wide and their lips parted, trying uselessly for a few false starts. "So, where to now?" they said, straightening their posture gracefully and attempting to regain their composure, like the flustered mess of emotions from just a moment ago had never been.
"My place. We'll fix you up a little, and then we can go get something to eat," the villain replied, failing to keep the smile out of their voice.
"What happened to me being all glowing?" the hero teased.
"You're very lucky you're pretty," Villain snarled through gritted teeth, their hand resting on the back of Hero's neck.
They quickly tensed up, until the villain started to rub their neck, as though apologising for the damage they'd previously caused. The dark scowl was quickly wiped off their face as they watched the tightness dissipate from the hero's form. How had they not taken that adorable, little idiot out before?
"You're still good-looking, Hero. But you owe it to yourself to at least take care of yourself. Live a little." There was no mocking or cruelty, no sharp edges to their smile and nothing but gentleness in the villain's golden, honey brown eyes, making the hero's own hazel ones go as wide as saucers.
No one's ever talked to Hero like that, cared about them this way, or looked at them like they were a treasure. So, they nodded, hooked their hand into the villain's, placed a quick kiss on their forehead and allowed themselves to be lead forward.
The opposite of love is not hate, but indifference. Strong emotions often find themselves mixing together, melting into one another. The fine line between love and hatred defines itself by desire, a treacherous walk to make, but all the more worth it. And the heart can so strangely burn a different flame, beat for a whole new cause, adore what it used to despise, and admit what it so vigorously used to deny.
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imamirrorballlll · 10 months
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In my pipravi feels rn
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snckt · 5 months
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there is a certain thrill to wearing a disguise — a thrill that is half excitement and half danger. i once attended one of the famed masked balls hosted by the duchess of winnipeg, and it was one of the most exciting and dangerous evenings of my life.
@asouefanworkevent day five of woevember : the masked ball, alternatively titled,   the dragonfly.
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saewokhrisz · 2 years
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“unnerving reminiscence”
(thank you foibs for beta-ing lol and editing my dialogue!!)
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smilepebble · 6 months
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would you hold me like this one last time
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