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“When we are killed in the Hunt, Knox’s magic burns our souls from our corporeal forms and then rips our bodies out of this linear plane to transport both parts of us back to Hell,”
“I will never be yours.”
Rings. Weddings. Devils. Games. It’s all too fucking much. I wanted to find a companion to talk to about my childhood trauma, not a damned husband.
What lovely little creature do we have here?
Let him wait, lovely. I’m not done with you yet.











































