#obsessedenergy

Alastor: shocked, static buzzing, trying not to admit curiosity. Char: smug, unstoppable, already ten steps ahead.

They’re calm on the surface. But underneath? Hell is quietly watching. And so is everyone else.

She dropped to her knees. Tears. Shaking voice. “Maybe I’m too far gone.”

Charlie shattered. Instantly.

Alastor watched.

And realized —

She was hitting every note perfectly.

That wasn’t a breakdown. That was a performance.

She called him “good boy.”

And he blushed.

The Radio Demon.

She didn’t ask him to follow her into Heaven.

She manipulated Charlie. She lied beautifully. She had the whole thing handled.

He didn’t have to go.

He chose to.

Not for redemption. Not for belief.

Control doesn’t need permission. It doesn’t show up loudly or force anything into place. It works in smaller ways—the kind you don’t immediately question. A moment lasts longer than it should. A reaction comes quicker than expected. Attention shifts without being directed. Nothing about it feels forced. That’s what makes it effective. You don’t step into it because you’re told to. You step…

Curiosity gets framed as something harmless. Something soft. Something light. But it’s not always that simple. Curiosity can pull you toward things you already know you shouldn’t touch. It doesn’t always ask for permission. It doesn’t always care about consequences. It just sits there, quiet and persistent, asking one question over and over again: what if? And that question is…