WAIT OMG IM OVER A HUNDRED FOLLOWERS??? all of u make an orderly line and come make out with me sloppily
Yes mam!
Good soldiers follow orders. o7
Cosmic Funnies
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h

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roma★
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@lorethelorekeeper
WAIT OMG IM OVER A HUNDRED FOLLOWERS??? all of u make an orderly line and come make out with me sloppily
Yes mam!
Good soldiers follow orders. o7

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Can't really blame him tho
Just going to the store wearing makeshift catear headphones while listening to Lemon Demon like a normal person :3
um yeah I pull bitches. pull bitches into my dark realm of terrors
Borowski

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exile posting
please?
for once, he weeps naught
Christowopher moment
We need to FORGE Neville
I am not in danger, Laidlaw. I am the danger! A guy opens his door and gets opened in uncountable places and you think that of me? No. I am the one who Knocks!
My name is Walter Heartwell White.
I live at 308 Negra Arroyo Lane, Albuquerque, New Mexico, 87104. This is my confession. If you're watching this tape, I'm probably dead– murdered by my brother-in-law, Hank Schrader. Hank has been building a forge cult for over a year now, and using me as his chemist. Shortly after my 50th birthday, he asked that I use my chemistry knowledge to repair the Wildering Mirror, which he would then break using connections that he made through his career with the suppression bureau. I was... astounded. I... I always thought Hank was a very moral man, and I was particularly vulnerable at the time – something he knew and took advantage of. I was reeling from a cancer diagnosis that was poised to bankrupt my family. Hank took me in on a ride-along and showed me just how much money even a small commission could make. And I was weak. I didn't want my family to go into financial ruin, so I agreed. Hank had a partner, a businessman named Gustavo Fring. Hank sold me into servitude to this man. And when I tried to quit, Fring threatened my family. I didn't know where to turn. Eventually, Hank and Fring had a falling-out. Things escalated. Fring was able to arrange – uh, I guess... I guess you call it a "hit" – on Hank, and failed, but Hank was seriously injured. And I wound up paying his medical bills, which amounted to a little over $177,000. Upon recovery, Hank was bent on revenge. Working with a man named Hector Salamanca, he plotted to kill Fring. The bomb that he used was built by me, and he gave me no option in it. I have often contemplated suicide, but I'm a coward. I wanted to go to the bureau, but I was frightened. Hank had risen to become the head of the Albuquerque branch. To keep me in line, he took my children. For three months, he kept them. My wife had no idea of my cult activities, and was horrified to learn what I had done. I was in hell. I hated myself for what I had brought upon my family. Recently, I tried once again to quit, and in response, he gave me this. [Walt points to the bruise on his face left by Hank in "Blood Money."] I can't take this anymore. I live in fear every day that Hank will kill me, or worse, hurt my family. All I could think to do was to make this video and hope that the world will finally see this man for what he really is.
(stolen from u/5Quad in r/weatherfactory)

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We need to FORGE Neville
Who's the cultsim summon you'd like to KISS and HOLD HANDS and protect you from smelly WORMS
Oh my, I think I'd have to go with a Raw Prophet because I want to CHERISH them and maybe even speak to them PASSIONATELY >.<
As I near six marks of delight here at these rooms behind a bookshop, I just wanted to say that Neville is one of my favourite tastes. Not only that, but his vital pigment smells amazing. It makes me get a little restless to be honest. Like, I cannot get him deep enough in my fistulae to be satisfied. I’m only satisfied when I hear those intense, desperate, weeping pounds of his fists from my cupboard. When I lean back on my heels, look up at you with phrygian pouring from my lips and the vigilant storm burst forth from my remains, smooth without and red within and ask you “what are the words that make the sacrifice sweet?” and you cannot even speak because I’ve set your blood (and dick) afire with the rite of the crucible soul..... that’s when I’m satisfied.
occult business

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GUYS! LOOK!