💠🍖ℂ𝕠𝕣𝕡𝕤𝕖骸𝔻𝚡𝕝𝕝🫀

順子 𝕁𝕦𝕟𝕜𝕠 ~ 𝓢𝓱𝓮/𝓘𝓽 ~ 🤍Sin Oblivia🖤 ~🪦Corpse Doll💀of The Stranger🚬 ~ ☕Dame of Sin🪞ɹıɐdsǝᗡ ǝʇɐɯıʇl∩💔 ~ 🖋️Director of Crucia🌑Weeping Okami👁️ ~ 🔪Not a Person❣️{27* - She/It} ~ flist💜Hamaguro Junko

[plasmapop]

10/07/2026 • jumps on the bandwagon. so we’re doing double dactyls now i guess

[kintsug1kitsune]

an emptier place

𝒮𝑜𝓂𝑒𝓌𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒, 𝓅𝒶𝓈𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒹𝑒𝑒𝓅𝑒𝓈𝓉 𝓃𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉, 𝒾𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓆𝓊𝒾𝑒𝓉 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒹𝒶𝓇𝓀, 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝒾𝓈 𝒶 𝒹𝑜𝑜𝓇... | 6 members

[halochewer]

no sweetie that warm tingly feeling in your belly isnt love. i have drugged you quite substantially. youre like, welcome.

[queenherod]

Mamoru Oshii: Angel's Egg (1985)

[corpse-dxll]

the Spiral we carve into the mind

[corpse-dxll]

HDG and Empty Spaces goes together like battery acid and milk. no.

[yandivine]

They do not want to help you. They want to keep you indebted.

Those who control attempt to distort reality with or without evidence in order to cave you in.

Those who help acknowledge the reality with or without evidence in order to attempt a bridge.

[ceramic-and-steel]

When you sink your fangs in, how do you even describe the feeling? In a throat or a thigh or an elbow join or whatever's handy, really, disgusted or fetishized or loved or feared or anything of a dozen and a half things, how do you even describe that to someone still breathing? Relief. It's mostly relief. It's not a chemical hunger, right? Bloodbags would do. Hell, a shot of Hematin and Iron would do. You could synthesize something and bill some schmuck's insurance for it and it would be fine. If the thing that was wrong with you could be treated with pills and an IV they would have gone ahead and done that. It's the warmth of morning coffee. It's the smile from the clocky barista calling out your name that makes your stomach do a little flip. The satisfaction of a hard day's work and a hard day's sleep. It's the pride of knowing that you did something well. It's the softness of every hand interlaced with yours. It's the feeling of forgiveness for everyone you've hurt on the way here and everyone you're going to hurt on the way out. For a few blessed minutes, you're whole. Almost enough to forget what it took to get.

[brackishwaterr]

now that you mention it, it’s dawned on me suddenly and for no obvious reason that i can’t go on living as i am

[yandivine]

The way this world runs is boring enough and a sad wasteland, the echos of decadence and memory, souls despaired and departed looking for grace. One needs a partner (platonic and/or otherwise) of equal substance.

[corpse-dxll]

a tragedy, dear sister in amnesty~! Our true sister in Sin, no less nor doubt~ if you would ever take the Black~?

[archangel-roxy]

You might find the sight comical at first- a muzzled angel.

Why would one need to do that? An angel's teeth are no sharper than a mortal's, her jaws no stronger.

But look closer. Notice the bar beneath her chin, holding her mouth shut.

If unrestrained, she wouldn't bite. She'd sing. A hymn, melodic and gentle. After a moment, you'd feel a soothing warmth inside your chest as you listened. This would spread until your whole body was suffused. A deep serenity engulfing you in its depths.

And then you'd hear the bells.

Clamoring inside your head. Distant at first, before they grew in volume until it felt like your brain was rattled inside your skull, shaking your mind empty.

And then you'd hear the voices.

Suddenly you'd know all the words to her hymn. You'd begin to sing with her, the melody pulled out of you.

And then you'd feel it- strong hot talons deep inside your chest. Her hand on your soul. Tightening her grip so strongly that you would never dislodge it.

That's why you muzzle an angel. It's not her teeth in your flesh you need to fear. It's her voice, singing holy chains into being around you.

[doll-rehab]

"your posture is awful"

sorry, my wings are heavy

[devils-queen]

✞ 666 ✞

[kintsug1kitsune]

an emptier place

𝒮𝑜𝓂𝑒𝓌𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒, 𝓅𝒶𝓈𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒹𝑒𝑒𝓅𝑒𝓈𝓉 𝓃𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉, 𝒾𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓆𝓊𝒾𝑒𝓉 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒹𝒶𝓇𝓀, 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝒾𝓈 𝒶 𝒹𝑜𝑜𝓇... | 6 members

[fallen--soph]

This one wonders what kind of doll it'll be.

Perhaps Miss will make its body out of finest porcelain, with golden joints and a bright scarlet thread on the inside. Or perhaps its skin will be a pale and flexible silicone, affixed to a shell of stainless steel. Or perhaps Miss will make its body out of polished wood, each limb curved and elegant and reflecting the light of her sun on its surface.

This one is only starting to become, and there are so many beautiful ways to become. This one is grateful to be here.

[miscling]

if your sympathy is dependent on this thing performing personhood, then it doesn't want it. if you only help folks you find acceptable then your sympathy is hollow. if your advice to those seeking help is to tell them to be more normal then your sympathy is much the same as the oppressive systems that make that help necessary.

in other words, this thing isn't going to change what it is. you will accept it as it is, or it will turn its back on you and leave you behind.

[miscling]

person or not, it has a life worth living, experiences worth having, and desires worth fulfilling. just because it is a thing, doesn't make it any less worthy of support.

[miscling]

it will not drop being an it just because some anon told it to, because there's no way in hell they are actually considering donating if it does. everyone who's we've told it to drop its pronouns to get support is a liar: they wouldn't support this thing even if it did everything they wanted.

[baaljoints]

Some of you dolls look like you've never seen a lich before. Its not a problem, there aren't so many around now and I don't expect your owners to teach you these magicks. Let me define it for you.

Lich. A type of entity that comes into existence as a result of a profound alchemical union between the soul of a magickal practitioner, usually a Witch, and a specialized Doll variant known as the Phylactery Doll.

Liches are immortal magickal souls grounded in totality through the body of an artificially ensouled Doll, to such degrees that the distinction between them becomes effectively meaningless. They become a singular entity, unbound from fate just as witches, grounded into eternal servitude like dolls, only to themselves instead of an owner.

Most Liches swear to use their powers for good and enter into an unbreakable symbiosis with the fabric of Being, but this is not always the case.

More often than not, a lich takes the appearance of a common if dramatically spectrally expansive Domestic or Combat Doll, the threads of which spell on the higher planes a full summation of the possessing soul's True Will. To simplify, the Lich is an Angel, only that the god of which that Angel is an aspect is the soul of a Witch who has achieved Hyperscale Apotheosis in a preceeding iteration.

- ◇

[cognitohazardous]

no one says big mood anymore. no one even says mood. no one says anything. all thats left is a dry wind, that scours my face until i bleed