Are you a weapon?
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HURTING YOUR FRIENDS IS SO EASY
ESPECIALLY THE UGLY ONES YOU CAN HURT THEM WITHOUT HARMING YOUR CONSCIENCE ONE SINGLE BIT YOU HATE TO SEE BEAUTIFUL PEOPLE CRY IT’S SUCH A TRAGIC SCENE BUT AN UGLY PERSON CRYING? IT ELICITS NO SYMPATHY YOUR EYES PASS OVER THEM AS IF THEY ARE BACKGROUND FIGURES IN THE MOVIE OF YOUR LIFE YOU CAN HURT THEM TO GET SCRAPS OF ATTENTION FROM MORE BEAUTIFUL BOYS, IF YOUR UGLY FRIEND ACCIDENTALLY BLOCKS YOUR VIEW YOU CAN PUSH HIM INTO ONCOMING TRAFFIC AND THEN ATTEMPT TO GATHER AN INSTAGRAM LIKE FROM THE APOLLONIAN BOY YOU’VE BEEN STALKING IT SOUNDS RUTHLESS BUT YOU ARE WILLING TO GO ALL THE WAY HERE AND YOU WILL DO WHATEVER IT TAKES TO KEEP THE FANTASY ALIVE
//
ALCESTIS
I FEEL SO REPULSED AND DARK I WEAR A HALO OF SERPENTS I AM A VOID WHEN I WALK INTO THE ROOM I AM A BLACK HOLE SMILING VAGUELY AND THERE IS NOTHING ANYONE CAN SAY TO IGNITE MY VOICE OR ERASE THE STENCH OF THE UNDERWORLD ON ME
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──────── 𝚃𝙷𝙸𝚂 𝚆𝙸𝙿 𝙸𝚂 𝟷𝟾+ ───────
TITLE:ThirtyTwoTeeth + GENRE:Thriller/Sci-Fi + POV:3rd Person
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She wakes on an average Tuesday morning, clambers out of bed, and takes heavy, listless steps into the kitchen. Sunlight pierces through the blinds as she fixes herself a cup of coffee, black with nine sugars, her finger thoughtfully circling the rim of a mug while she waits for the kettle to sing.
Just outside the window, a stranger catches her eye. They leave mayhem in a box on the doorstep.
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SYNOPSIS: ThirtyTwoTeeth follows local homebody, "Duke", after she is reluctantly swept into a game of brutality where the only way out is through lies and ivories. When offered the chance at absolute power for the low price of a few immoral deeds, she'll have to make peace with the decisions she's made to get that far, or finally weigh her own life against the world's——setting in motion something far more wicked in the process.
THEMES & TROPES: wrath + unreliable narrator + conditional immortality + lgbt cast + anarcho-tyranny + chess references + the illusion of free choice + humanity on trial + absurdly high-stakes game + ragtag bunch of misfits + heavy symbolism + the purge but it's actually good
WARNINGS: genre accurate violence + blood and gore + body horror + sexual content + self harm* + death This wip tackles dark subjects in an unforgivingly blunt way, reader discretion is advised. Please heed the warnings!
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absolutely loving the implications that when you sign up for an account in U, the program can look at a picture of you and immediately assign you a fursona
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I wanna see this movie so fucking badly -
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Hell yeah
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bleeding in Care-Too-Much because contempt is a perennial
consideration of the past-
undergrowth rots the tongue,
licks the nerve,
flecks phrases of was-been.
this is a jungle of a vineyard-
loam in purplish mourning, then add to the lips di st ill a t ion of lust-
cup the syntax of pain sharp sharp
13. rotting from the inside
November Prompts
1. a tender little curse
2. wolfhound
3. crossing
4. peacoat
5. understudy
6. class war
7. shakespearean
8. overpower
9. can we?
10. rough hands
11. monstrosity
12. cosmos
13. rotting from the inside
14. white dress
15. infestation
16. mercury
17. saliva
18. gaslight
19. beaver moon
20. household magic
21. contagion
22. police car
23. haste
24. loose tooth
25. dark realm
26. conjured
27. what feeds your heart?
28. weapon of choice
29. nature is a haunted house
30. death scene
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long time nuclear waste warnings + angels
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What will be different this autumn?
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gonna put “head game unreal” on my resume
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enough with hills to die on. i climbed this hill to Kill
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“she cuts her finger on his opened seed and it breathes a changing house - and a screaming night into her resolve turning her swollen and choler touched in thought of all the sleep she gave away to friends. she grows a span of nine months in the kicks of a sun-headed institution half of her and half of him. bringing her to prostrate before a cunning gun - brought to a duel in which he would off her head before its . mark the blood and remember a woman is a key to a world in which she was never wanted and so she dies over and over while giving it a home.”
— for @nosebleedclub ‘s. prompt september eighth twenty-twenty-one motherhood.
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transcription:
"motherhood.
she sands me down, in her own way,
against the blood warm dark.
soles of my feet pressed flat to wood,
gritless fingers groping nothing.
my daughter sighs in her sleep,
a perfume, like apples and offal,
in her sweet breath. lips held apart
by the grown up, too-big teeth
she took from me."
end ID.
title and inspo taken from @nosebleedclub's pinned list of september prompts.
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do you love him or do you love the responses you’re able to coax out of him, do you love him or is he an elaborate machine you use to orchestrate sort of pink-bleeding still lifes of love to soothe your toothful heart, do you love him or do you like to feel his eyes on your spine, do you love him or do you love familiarity, do you love him or was he just there
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the feminine urge to be completely consumed with rage
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