#《 ✉️ 》 — mail

[burning-sol]

fast fingger reblog only 30ssecinds

moar likee fast faoggot <- me

[axesofpeace]

you talked about wanting to be cold.. i’m currently in -17°C and it might reach -25°C help

-philza

That's cold!! Make sure you're stayin' warm... It's 20°C here, so definitely nowhere near as cold, heheh. I'd like it to be at least 10°C, but each day fluctuates it seems.

[plurcraft]

Welcome Players to Plurcraft

This is an anti rad.queer headmate pack blog!

Check under cut for rules & sources!

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Rules & Info

Requests must consist of at least TWO details. We do not work with requests that contain only one detail (e.g. species or role).

Including a string of four (4) or more emojis counts as an additional detail.

There is no maximum for how many details you can include, and more details are appreciated, but very detailed requests may not get everything included.

I currently only offer headmates and ONE per ask.

Sources

Soures I Know Very Well

Minecraft in general

Traffic SMP / Life Series SMP

Hermitcraft

Empires SMP 1 & 2

Afterlife SMP / New Life SMP

Sources I Know Somewhat

QSMP

Witchcraft SMP

DSMP

Sources I Know Nothing About

YHS

Anything else

[thoroughfaare]

ᯓ but its over, then you’re driving me home.

reqs ⋆ rules ⋆ about me

julien⋆ he/him ⋆ 19 ⋆ tmasc lesbian ⋆ #1 boygenius defender

[transmascyuki]

kaito is mfy’s transition goals (he just doesn’t know it yet though)

you have a point, actually, a good one at that

[dearest-painter]

DISOBEDIENCE! (PT.1)

Summary: Y/N Swan knew one thing, they HATED being controlled. Y/N wanted free will and broke any rule that they saw as controlling them. Soon Y/N and Bella move to Forks, Y/N finally found a group they could be free with….Y/N found their pack but at the cost of others becoming obsessed with them

TW/CW:Yandere behavior, unhealthy behavior, unhealthy relationship, abusive behavior,abusive relationship, Y/N hates the cullens due to werewolf behaviors, they were already turned before hand and didn’t have a pack, Y/N turned while in Arizona so the sudden hyperactive behavior is new, Y/N gets adopted into a pack, Y/N is a hella hyperactive, only wolf gifs because I’m not sure what to use for the middle one ngl, Y/N acts like a lost and sleepy puppy sometimes but not all the times, have this while I try to finish up request, tell me if I need to add more

You smiled widely. You were moving in with your dad! You loved him! Bella seemed upset with moving to Forks but you didn’t care! As soon as you saw your dad, you smiled widely as you ran and jumped onto him. He was startled but he was able to caught you. He laughed as you hugged him tightly. “I see you kissed me Y/N” Charlie softly said as you rapidly nodded your head. “Get off of him Y/N” Bella said. You looked at her upset.

She was commanding you. You hated it. You weren’t a damn creature to command! “I’ll get off if dad wants me to” you replied as you laid your head on his shoulder. He decided to hold you until you all arrived at his car. You were quick to get into the back seat so you could hold your head out the window. You had a lot of energy like usual.

You were smiling as you took in the air of the forest, you felt safe. Arizona was fun but not safe, there was no woods for you to hunt but there are here! You can let out all of your energy for once! “Oh, I got you two a car. It’s a truck actually, I hope you two don’t mind sharing” Charlie said as he smiled at you pulling your head back in the car with a wide smile. “REALLY!? OH YESYESYESYESYES!” You were more hyper than what he was used to but he didn’t mind, you were his little kid.

Bella smiled, not at the truck sound, at you. You always made her happy, even when you didn’t listen to her. Soon you two arrived at Billy black’s place for the truck, you didn’t even realized you all unpacked. You were going up and down on your tippy toes so you didn’t run around to annoy the man. Werewolf. You knew it, you can smell the scent. He was definitely a well respected one, you haven’t met other werewolves before yet you knew better than to outright ask.

Soon his son Jacob showed up. You all chuckled at Billy black and Charlie doing their friendly rivalry. You looked at Jacob confused…he smelt like a wolf but..he wasn’t one? Maybe it’s because he hangs around his dad a lot. You weren’t paying attention to the conversation until your name was said. You looked up and tilted your head, why did he smell like a wolf? Why did Billy Black smell like a wolf? This just confused you a lot. Bella sighed and stayed near you, she wanted to make sure you didn’t wander off.

This was going to be a long life. “Oh Billy, meet my other kid, Y/N. Y/N, say hi.” Charlie stated and pulled you beside him so Billy could see you. “Hello!” Billy chuckled at the enthusiastic ‘Hello’ so he waved back. “Hello to you as well. Last I saw, you weren’t this energetic!” Billy pointed out which made you chuckle. “Growing up does that!” “That it does. Fixed up the truck for you and Bella.” You squealed in joy and immediately got into the back seat, basically making sure it’s covered in your scent.

Bella chuckled and softly sighed. She enjoyed your behavior even if it was a big chaotic. “Thank you.” Bella said to Billy which got a head nod from him. Bella knew that this was going to be a long time while living here but you seemed happy..so she’ll put up with it for a while

[shmooooo]

vernon +Size kink & bodyworship

Bf vernon who doesn't make it obvious but he's literally obsessed with you, the way your smaller frame looks next to his, how soft ur body is, how tiny your hand looks in his, just EVERYTHING abt you

Oh God, I need him 🧎🏻‍♀️

Also I wrote this with fem!reader in mind, I hope that's fine ♡

I don't think he'd be huge on PDA, except for the smallest kiss every once in a while or occasionally taking your hand or touching the small of your back when leading you through a crowd. When doing that though, he would absolutely revel in how tiny your hand is compared to his, how he towers over you, protects you. At home, however, you can't get him off you. He's constantly hugging you from behind or hovering near you when you're doing the most mundane tasks.

If you're voicing even the smallest insecurity about your body, he will worship you for hours, showing you just how beautiful you are and how much he loves every single inch of your skin. He strives me as a patient guy even in bed and he loves getting you lingerie so he can see how you look wearing it, how it helps you feel more confident about your body.

He'll absolutely sit you down in his lap in front of a mirror and make sure you know how beautiful you are in his eyes, hoping you'll be able to see it too. His big hands playing with the lingerie and your breast until he finally starts touching you where you need him most, his hand visible under your panties when he's playing with your clit before he sinks his long fingers into you, easily filling you up just the way you like and revelling in the way you lean into him at the feeling.

And after making you cum like that at least twice, he'll take you to bed, towering over you as he peels the intricate fabric off your skin before he eats you out, making you cum one more time before he finally fucks you, praising you throughout for being his good, beautiful girl.

[kissesforsatoru]

PROTECTIVE MODE ON YAN FIC of yan Izana, yan Ran, and Yan Kazu who were sent to jail ofc and find out that you been getting targeted from other gangs and been getting jump, mug, threatened, assult- maybe the before where they were in jail and seeing sent photos or words were being passed and then after they get out seeing you at the hospital very badly injured and going after the gang themselves

- 🌑

IZANA, RAN, KAKUCHO x GN! READER (separate)

₊˚⌗ izana, ran, and kaku finding out their darling is being harassed while they're locked away in jail.

⤷ cw : general yandere themes, light descriptions of injury, pet names (angel, baby, sweetheart; izana, kakucho).

notes : sorry this took so long guys, i got stuck on ran's section 😭

izana would be pissed if he found out someone was fucking with his darling while he was locked up. he thinks it's pussy to mess with him while he 'can't do anything' about it. if someone has a problem with him, they should come to him directly and fight him, not get his poor little darling involved while he's not there to protect them. izana has ways to get his revenge though, even while he's locked up. he has informants, people to rough up anyone that touches his darling until he gets out—and when he does, he will find them, and they pay for touching his darling.

"missed you, angel," izana hums into your neck, his arms squeezing tighter around your body. you visited him a lot while he was in jail, but it's been so long since he's gotten to hold you in his arms like this; he can't help but want you closer, closer, closer—especially knowing that someone has been hurting you.

he feels content with you, but it's only for a few seconds before he kicks back into his usual cold, ruthless self—his gang leader self. before he can allow himself any more time to hold you, and kiss you, and do whatever else he wants to do with you, he has to deal with the bastards that dared to hurt you.

"so, you gonna tell me who's been messing with you while i wasn't around, hm?" he asks, pulling out of your neck to look at you. his eyes are void and intense as always, sending a shiver of fear down your spine, and the sweet, lulling tone of voice he took with you just a second ago is now gone, replaced with something a little more dangerous, more demanding.

izana already knows who did it; five guys belonging to a gang that got on izana's nerves, thinking they were better when they were nothing but a bunch of mindless idiots full of themselves. of course, guys like that would go after someone weaker than them, someone easy—it's bullshit. izana wants to hear it from you who did it though because not once while he was locked up did you tell him you were being harassed; he had to find out from his informants, so this is your 'punishment'.

"i'm not fucking around, y/n. tell me who hurt you," he snaps when you don't answer him for a while. his fingers dig into your shoulders almost painfully, urging you to just tell him already. he doesn't have the patience to be playing games with you right now.

"i don't- i don't know their names, but they said they were from, uh- a gang called the serpents," you blurt out, not wanting to piss him off further, especially after he just got out of jail, and you finally get to be with him again. izana grunts but relents and lets your shoulders.

"go back home, baby, i have shit to deal with right now. i'll come back to you in a few hours, yeah?" he doesn't give you time to respond before he walks off. you know where he's going, and as much as you don't like the idea of him getting right back into gang business after getting out of jail, you don't try to stop him.

kakucho's first priority is you. before he even thinks about killing the bastards who dared to touch you, and he does eventually, he has to make sure that you're okay. your safety and well-being are always going to be his first priority. and depending on in what way and how badly they hurt you is what determines the severity of what he does to the guys who were messing with you.

the first thing kakucho does when he gets out of jail is go straight to see you. he's excited, a little giddy at finally getting to be with you again without the annoying and prying eyes of the guards, but kakucho is mostly worried. you suddenly stopped visiting him in jail a few months ago, making up bullshit excuses for it on the phone, so he asked one of the gang members who didn't get busted what's been going on with you, only to find out some guys have been fucking around with you.

if you didn't want to tell him about it, let alone let him see you, it must be bad. bad enough to leave you with visible injuries, surely, but he has no idea what kind of injuries you could possibly have. as bad as it may sound, he's hoping it's nothing more than bruises and little cuts. anything else and he might just lose any semblance of control when approaching the situation.

when you finally open the door for him, kakucho steps into your space and gently grabs you, look you over and searching for any injuries you may have. you have a cast on your wrist, and an array of fading bruises littered on your arms and legs--no doubt in other, more hidden places as well. at least they're faded, meaning those bastards probably haven't done anything in a while. not anything physical at least.

he curses while pulling you into his arms, hugging you tightly while also making sure not to hurt you. "why didn't you tell me, sweetheart? i have ways to handle things like this, you know? even when i'm in jail." he sounds like he's about to cry, and that make your stomach fill with regret as you hug him back.

"i knew you would be worried. i didn't want to stress you out any more than you already were," you explain to him, but now that it's coming out of your mouth, you realize that maybe not telling him and avoiding has made him worried about you even more. that much is obvious with how he's holding you, refusing to let you go even as you try to pull away.

"of course, i'm going to be worried about you! shit, y/n—" he stops mid-sentence, clearly a little bit overwhelmed at the moment. you don't say a thing and just wait for him to calm down and vent all his frustrations to you. it's the least you can do after causing him so much turmoil.

"i can't lose you too," he finally whispers. he pulls away from the hug and looks at you, his expression serious, yet tinged with worry and sadness. you feel another pang of guilt and you pull him back into the hug, as if to reassure him with the action. he hugs you back just as tight and the two of you stand there for a while, wrapped up in each other's arms.

ran doesn't take the situation as seriously as the other two, at least not in front of you. of course, he cares, he's worried, and he wants the bastards to pay, but he doesn't necessarily show it at first. ran will try to remain calm for your sake, to not freak you out with his anger because lord knows how aggressive he gets in fights, and how deeply he cares about you, too. even as he's interrogating you, ran tries to keep his cool, but he can only play it off for so long before he starts to get riled up at the prospect of some guys roughing you up.

"ran, some guys have been harassing me while you were in jail," you tell him randomly, unable to keep it from him any longer, especially now that he's out of jail. he just looks at you, that usual smirk of his on his lips, and he leans back against your couch, making himself comfortable.

"yeah? i already know. want me to do something about it?" he asks as if it's not that big of a deal to him, like it's just something that happens, which- to be fair, you know he probably expected this. ran pisses a lot of people off, makes a lot of guys want to get back at him, and you're an easy target to them, you guess. but still, his lack of concern or care for your well-being is a little bit surprising to you, maybe even a bit upsetting too. you expected at least a serious expression instead of that damn smirk, but then again, this is ran.

"no, just wanted to tell you." you shrug and sit down next to him, leaning your head on his shoulder. ran doesn't respond; instead, he wraps his arm around you and pulls you closer to him while he pulls out his phone with his other hand. you pay him no mind and go on your own phone, assuming the conversation is over with, at least until a few minutes later when he locks his phone and shoves it back in his pocket.

"who'd you say these guys were again? and what exactly did they do?" he asks, and you feel a little smile make its way onto your lips—he cares. you wouldn't lie and say his little display of nonchalance made you doubt he actually cared for you, even if it was only a little bit.

"those guys you fought because they kept messing around on izana's territory. and they just roughed me up a bit, pushed me around and called me– some things.” you say, shifting to sit up and look at him. his thumb rubs along your waist lightly as he tilts his head in thought, seemingly trying to remember who you're talking about. after a few seconds, he looks at you, humming.

"mm... rin and i will take care of them. you didn't think i'd let shit like that slide, did you? nobody touches you without consequences, you know that," he reprimands your little slip of trust in him, but he doesn't seem to really take it to heart—that smirk back on his lips. it is his fault for acting so carelessly, so he won't blame you. he gently kisses your forehead before standing up and heading out the door, intent on doing what he told you he would.

[almostthursdayy]

hi! I just wanted to say thank you for drawing Matt's body like that. It looks identical to mine and as a fat DN fan it makes me feel so so seen with one of my favorite characters. Thank you so much and have an amazing day ♡

oh my god tyyyyyyyy here’s a matt loving himself because others feeling seen in my art is literally the best compliment <33333333

[fangel]

could we get a sneak peek of what you're cooking up ?? love yours fics !! 🖤

OMG yeah of course ! ( ;´꒳`;) i literally have an update queued for tomorrow but thank you for asking :D !! i haven’t been very active so i thought ppl would forget about me lol

preview snippet of my next story under the cut :3 a little over 4k words. lil slice of the cake or lick of the frosting ? idk but the intro before the main story

　You’re not sure what life in your small town was like before you were born. You can imagine it’s not too different from what it is now though. The thing about old country towns is they never seem to change. Open fields and miles of farmland. A few gas stations, one grocery store, a few family owned vegetable stands or in-home produce product shops. Only one notable neighborhood where the majority of the townspeople lived if not hidden somewhere else in the countryside. And too many churches to keep track of if the abandoned ones were included in the count. 

You like to think your parents were happy before you too. Hopeful and optimistic when offered to take over your uncle’s farm. Excited for the next step in their relationship after their marriage. They were the ideal family dream coming to life: high school lovers, engaged after graduation, married, a career handed to them through family with a large property of land and beautiful farmhouse. All that was left was to grow that family. To have children to not only help tend the fields and animals but run around barefoot, all smiles, and wide eyed. 

You were positive that it was something they wanted. 

But life couldn’t have been that easy for them; it would’ve been too gratuitous of a blessing.

The day you were born, your father knew there was something greatly wrong with you. He claimed that on the day you ripped your mother open, screaming and crying, that God spoke to him for the first time. He called it divine intervention. Believing the birth of your soul was a red-herring of all that was set to come but God would show him the light, the truth: that you were nothing short of evil and needed saving. 

That year on the farm there was nothing but death. It only furthered your father’s harsh thinking of you. The crops and produce either died or rotted before it had the chance to grow or ripe. The animals were dropping dead from unknown illnesses. Every female livestock that gave birth passed in doing so. Barely any profits were made that year. Taxes were rising and so were the prices of nearly everything. It was a huge toll for your family, especially when raising their first child. Before you were even conscious of the situation everything was already deemed your fault. 

Through the harrowing struggle, your father’s optimism turned to resentment. He claimed that bringing you to the farm was not like bringing a daughter home, but a corrosive parasite. He believed that you were the reason for the life being sucked away from their perfect farm life. So, he turned to the only thing that he could trust to save the family from your curse: God. Begging and pleading through prayers every morning and night to the sky for a better season. 

He studied religion here and there before taking over his brother-in-law's farm but with the farm failing for the first time, he took a change of career paths. He was already well known among the locals, close with the church goers in the community. And somewhere along the way, he managed to start preaching himself. Nearly every christian in your town moved churches to follow where he went. Like sheep to a shepherd. 

If only they knew what you did, what he was truly like behind the closed doors of your home. How his devotion was turning to violence. Day by day, becoming uglier. 

While your father busied himself with his new found family, often away from home on the farm, the crops and animals began to thrive again. Slowly but surely, growing and regaining health. He would say it’s God’s doing, a small taste of His salvation. 

Your early years were mostly troubled by the relationship of your parents. Too young to fully understand their disputes, drawing at the kitchen table with their yelling sounding the house. It was always about you, that much you knew. Because you watch and you listen. Quick to learn that they tried for another child but never had any success. They wanted someone else to be their baby. Something that felt more like a blessing than you. Your father constantly spitting in your mother’s face that you were the rot to the fruit of her womb. And then he would always end up leaving by slamming the door and your mother would always join you at the table with tears and a bottle of wine. You always just watched, listening in silence. Perhaps just born resilient.

Growing up was different for you compared to most of the kids in your town. You never had the opportunity to make many friends being homeschooled. The only time that was spent around others your age was kindergarten. Kindergarten was short lived because of your behavior; the teachers at school were concerned about you. How you were mean, rough, and sinister with your actions towards others. Picking on the kids you were simply interested in because of how different from you they were. Drawing pictures of gutted cattle or dead, half developed baby chicks still in their shell and giving them as gifts to the teachers. Sharing to classmates the cruelty of farm life and why it was pretty with a smile. 

Your father loved to find out about this, you could see it in his eyes. The way they were wicked and screamed I told you so to your mother. You didn’t understand why it was bad or caused trouble. You were only having fun for the first time. The way the kids ran away crying or the teachers wore faces of shocked horror, it made your insides light up in joy. A new feeling—a sense of excitement. You didn’t know it was sick. And of course, it was taken from you. You were removed from school and your mother became your teacher. Your classmates became stuffed animals and the real ones in the barns. It was hard for you to find that joy you briefly felt with others. 

Sometimes you had a glimpse of it again when your father would punish you. But even that you grew sick of. The mess, the stench of it all. Sticky and red, worse in the heat of summer. He drilled the sick moto for his actions into your head, “I know no punishment, only mercy.”

Father took you both to church more often after that. He had a false image to uphold afterall, one of a happy, God loving family. In his ego he had to prove that his preaching and prayers could fix you, save you. But that was only admitted at home, loud and scary to your mother. Your poor mother, weak and defensive of you, eventually waved her white flag. You wished she kept fighting for you and that she wouldn’t begin to see you the way your father did. 

Childhood and adolescence was a string of questions about yourself. Never quite finding out what made you so bad to be seen as devilish when all you thought of yourself was curious. Perhaps just unlucky to be correlated with negative happenings on and off the farm, always gone without a chance of understanding. Despite it all, you knew well enough the way your parents talked and looked at you was without unconditional love. 

On your 17th birthday, the family dynamic made the biggest shift to be experienced. 

At this age, you had such a strong sense of independence and with the lack of parental guidance and monitoring, you would leave town when you could. Ride your bike down the long road to the bus stop at the center of town and take the bus into the city over. Your mother was generous with allowance and you saved your money well, only spending it on books or trips to the movie theater. A form of escape that allowed you to learn more about the world and all the things your parents tried to keep hidden from you. A way to learn how to be human. 

So when your father was tearing your room apart in search of the same gift he re-gifts you every year, he found some things that made his stomach churn. Every year for your birthday he rewrapped the same, first ever, bible he’d given you. Funny enough that he gave you anything at all considering he never even referred to it as your day, only his day of revelation. And to his disgust, on his sacred day, he found books and journals of explicitly detailed copulation and debauchery. 

He almost fainted. Stumbling over his own feet, hands shaking as he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the words on the pages. That was the only time you smiled on that day. Just for a second. And then a glimpse of hell broke loose. 

In a rage, he destroyed everything. Your mother stood next to you in tears, telling him to stop and stop. Her hands covered her face but she saw everything through her fingers. You only watched in silence, hands balled in fists by your side. A silent hatred and anger coursed in you. He called you names that no man of God should, especially to his own daughter. 

“You’re a disgraceful deviant of Satan! I should’ve known. My own day of revelation is a curse!” You watched him rip pages apart, his voice booming through the house. “Years spent praying for you and this is how you turn out?! Succumbing to nothing but a dreaming whore?!”

A part of you liked his mean words. It was so rare for him to use such colorful language. 

You knew what would come next. He was going to have you ‘cleansed’ by a lamb. Something he always did when he discovered something new and sacrilegious of you. 

But it didn’t come. Because there was no dying, old lamb on the farm at the time. He did make a promise to not forget though. A promise to have you washed in sacrificial, blessed blood on a day you least expected. 

Your father left after that, leaving you and your mother behind. He moved to the city to continue his preaching at a larger church. He became known as the closest reverend to God for miles and miles. Lost in his ways, he only made visits when he needed to sort things out for the business of the farm.

You were content with his departure, yet couldn’t quite understand why your mother missed him. As far as you’ve seen, he was never kind towards either of you. 

　But now, it’s several years later. And although you’re free of your father’s heavy presence and homilies, he still makes his trips to the farm. You can feel the air change whenever he does, as if you’ve gained a sixth sense for his coming. Naturally intuitive to things having spent your childhood walking on eggshells in your own home. 

And today, the air feels particularly chill for summer. The breeze sweeps in through your open window. The forecast called for nothing but sunshine all week, yet there’s an angry, dark cloud hanging over your farm. A foreboding feeling shivers through you, and you know he’s going to fulfill his promise today. You sigh and slide out of bed. “Let’s get this over with.”

You spend the morning doing your usual routine. Brushing teeth, washing your face, then dressing in farm work attire. Your breakfast consists of tea and your mothers homemade strawberry scone. Next is tending to the animals. Your mother usually takes care of the crops and gardening. It’s a quiet and early morning, as most are. The both of you keep to yourselves, just doing what needs to be done day by day. 

The sound of a car is heard coming down to the long dirt road and you know who it is by the sound. It’s a fancier vehicle than the one he left this property with years ago. A meaner part of you likes to think his greedy hands got into that mega church’s donations but you’re too self aware of the successful farm your family owns. 

Your father parks in front of the house and your mother is quick to rush over to him, presumably with many questions: How have you been? Are you hungry? Thirsty? What brings you here so early in the month? 

You roll your eyes at her desperation to cling onto the relationship that clearly ended when you were a child. 

You place a hand on your hip, leaning your weight to the side that isn’t carrying the heavy bucket of chicken feed. Walking away from the coops and back towards the shed by the house, you make eye contact with your father despite only taking a glance. 

He watches you with narrow eyes from the lowered window of the car he’s still sitting in, very much not listening to a word your mother is saying. 

He calls your name before you can open the shed. Spinning on the heels of your boots, you turn around with raised brows of questioning. 

He mouths the words sacrificial tree as he exits the car. Your mother sees this. She wears pained disappointment as she scurries away. Presumably to the barn where the sheeps and lambs are kept. She might as well be a sheep too, you think. 

The bucket slips from your fingers and drops to the patchy dirt grass by your feet with a thud, spilling over in a mess that will be cleaned later. 

You don’t bother giving him a nod of understanding. You just turn around and begin your walk to the tree line where the man made path is. Knowing it would take some time for his preparations, you walk to the lake that’s hidden behind the farmland. 

It’s a brief walk through your familiar woods. Once at the short wooden dock, you sit down at the end, taking in the gloomy summer scenery. A light fog hugs over the water. You bring your knees to your chest, in your sitting position, and hug yourself the same way. 

This is your favorite place out of all the land your family owns. It’s serene, mostly. Always quiet. You’re the only one who comes here. And it’s nice to swim with when the weather warrants it. There’s a feeling here that’s hard to feel anywhere else you find yourself. Sometimes you imagine what it would be like with someone else, but you doubt it would be as nice. Trouble has a way of following you, it seems. You frown at the thought. 

It’s silent like this for a few minutes, just you trying to find a sense of calmness before the impending chastisement. Then you hear some rustling of leaves, heavy footsteps following. You don’t turn around yet, you only wait for the call of your name. Your time of tranquility is too brief. You sigh before giving yourself a squeezing hug. 

“It’s time,” the reverend calls out loudly, “quickly now, we have new farmhands arriving soon.” The sound of his feet walking away is when you stand. You wave a goodbye to the foggy lake before parting ways. Your feet move unconsciously, taking to where your body knows to go. 

Leaves crinkle underneath your boots and twigs snap. The trees’ branches sway in the gentle morning breezes that pass. 

In the mix of the small forest, man made crosses of sticks or plywood are spaciously scattered. Most small but one large. Old rotted wood that stands crooked and begging to fall over right next to the largest, strongest tree. Your eyes, that are trained to ground, move upwards the cross and then to the tree. Your father stands there with a large knife in hand. Your mother waits cautiously not too far away. Her demeanor is frightful as if this is the first time. Coward.

An old lamb hangs by its hind legs from a sturdy tree branch. Unmoving and defenseless. Big beady, dumb eyes look in all directions but you. You think it must feel the same guilt as yourself, sorry that its life purpose is to embarrass you, make you hate what you are. 

“God told me to make a sacrifice to prove my faith. He guides my hand in washing your soul clean of sin. So here I am with our blessed, dying lamb.” He’s said this every time. His voice is always miserably rehearsed and preacher-esque. 

You thought long ago that this was their, the lambs, only use on the farm. It’s a shame. All that devotion has made him so ugly and violent. 

You make small steps closer to the lamb. It’s whining in bleat baas and mehs. Does it know what’s happening? Is it scared? You like the lambs. Pure white, soft, and docile. They never fight back. They just take it. I doubt they need restraints. You could hold them above me just the same and they’d never resist. 

“Move faster, for the love of God. Yeah, stand right there underneath like you know how to.” He instructs you, annoyed. His patience running thin as the distant sounds of a truck makes way down the dirt road to the farm property. 

“Okay…” You don’t fight him, with arms crossed behind your back and a hand squeezing around your own wrist, you move closer. Maybe you’re a lamb too. 

Maybe all your father really was is the executioner. 

He raises the knife as he begins to speak, it slides over its cotton, white throat but does not cut, “Revelation 7:13-17 Then he told me, ‘These are those who come from the great tribulation, and they’ve washed their robes, scrubbed them clean in the blood of the Lamb. That’s why they’re standing before God’s Throne. They serve him day and night in his Temple. The One on the Throne will pitch his tent there for them: no more hunger, no more thirst, no more scorching heat. The Lamb on the Throne will shepherd them, will lead them to spring waters of Life. And God will wipe every last tear from their eyes.’” He slits its throat in a quick, harsh movement. The blood spills just as fast, squirting spurts of red before it comes pouring down onto you. “Face up,” you obey even though it brings you rage, “it ought to cleanse those unholy thoughts I know that are still in there.” 

Head raised to the sky with eyes and mouth squeezed shut, you let it consume you. Warm, thick and wet washes down from your head onto your clothes then down to your feet. The smell of animal, metallic iron covers you. It’s sticking to your hair, eyebrows and lashes. You can already feel your clothes clinging to your skin in the dirtiest ways. 

You stand there, drenching in the lamb’s blood. Your father speaks again, firm and slow, “Say it with me now, ‘I know no punishment, only mercy.’” All you feel is the animal’s rain of life flooding you.

You open your mouth to speak but are quick to spit and cough out the blood that manages to get into your mouth. Smack. 

“I don’t have time for this,” his voice sounds like an echo, your head is ringing from the harsh swing of his hand. The skin of your cheek stings. He hits like a bitch, you think. “Say it with me now, dammit!” You can feel him wipe his bloodied hand on the side of your shirt. 

You step back from under the red shower. “I know no punishment, only mercy.” Your words align with his in the perfect paced harmony you’re trained to do so. Enunciated, slow and strong, through gritted teeth.

There’s a beat of silence before the sound of your parents footsteps walking away. 

Standing there in red, yet to open your eyes, you breathe out a shaky sigh of defeat. It sounds more like a growl. With the mostly clean hands you kept safely behind you, you bring them up to wipe the blood from your face. You don’t dare to look at the dead animal in front of you. Being covered in it is enough alone to make you feel sick. 

You think of going back to the lake, jumping in and letting the blood wash off you there, but knowing you’d either walk back with further drenched clothes or naked didn’t seem like options you wanted to deal with either. So you just head back to the house. It’s a slower walk than need be, but you just felt like avoiding the eyes of the newcomers, hoping they’d be off in the fields or in a barn by the time you walk through. You feel numb. 

You’re wrong though, by the time you’re passing the barns and coops, the group of new farmhands are already lined up outside the horses’ stable. Your mother is talking to them, although not all are paying attention. Only a few pairs of wide eyes follow you. Catching the sight of you must really shock them but you can’t blame them. Something about this makes you excited. You stop in your tracks and look around to see if your father’s car is gone. It is. The realization feels like a wave of relief and it suddenly feels brighter outside already. 

You take a glance down to your disheveled appearance. Shirt, pants, and boots painted like the barns. You look back to the group, brushing the soiled hair back from your face. Some pieces stay stuck, in the early stages of drying against your skin.

It’s safe to have a little fun. 

You begin a slow walk over to the group. You take a headcount and there’s five of them. Two younger men, closer to your age. The other three look a bit older, not by much but definitely older. Your mother is yet to turn around from whatever rundown she’s giving them. Too dense to even recognize that now none of them were paying any attention to her. 

You creep up beside her and open with, “Hello,” your voice is louder than even you’ve heard it be in a long time. It’s nice to be heard, noticed. You usually avoided the farmhands, but this summer was going to be different. You decided this on the walk over. 

Being cooped up on the farm for so long made you different, it’s obvious to anybody. Not properly socialized in your developmental years caused you to be an anomaly to the ones who did come across you. Enigmatic from far away and up close. Now isn’t the greatest example though, the situation is too clear as to why. 

Your mother turns to you, gasping and jumping back slightly in the shock of your gross state and sudden introduction. “My goodness, girl, whatta ya doin’ here like this?” Her voice is hushed, clearly unsettled with the situation. 

They all just stare at you, open mouthed and bewildered. You take the time to get a good look at each of them up close. Your eyes follow their faces individually down the line. And then they stop. 

At the end of the line is a man more beautiful than the ones you’ve seen in the movies. You feel stuck in time, left with parted lips, staring at the man before you. And far too intently for your character. He stands tall, sharp, pale, and elegant. What is a boy like this doing here? He averts his eyes from you, clearly uncomfortable by what’s before him. He looks uneasy, shifting his weight foot to foot with his hands behind his back. His pretty eyes glance around from you to your mother to the other men and the ground. He simply doesn’t know what to do with himself. You find it dangerously darling of him. 

You don’t even realize the small smile that takes your lips. You step closer to him and he steps back, now looking at you with wide eyes of small fear. You extend your hand to him, it’s coated in drying blood. He gulps and the sight, his adam’s apple bobbing in such a biteable neck stirs something in you. This will be far more fun than you intended. 

You say your name softly for introduction and step a little closer, “Nice to meet you," you feign cuteness as much as you can, looking up at him through your blood clumped lashes. It’s clear to everyone there is something off; there’s little to no real emotion behind your voice and face. 

Your mother eyes you suspiciously as you corner the handsome man, but she says nothing. Sometimes she fears you too. 

He looks from your eyes to your hand, having an internal battle with himself on what to do, “Ah, I am Sunghoon... Nice to meet you too.” His politeness must be stronger than his frighteness, because he takes his hand in yours and shakes it gently. His hand is large in yours, nearly covering it entirely. You squeeze it hard, your eyes never leaving his, trapping him in the scene. 

He wants to look away, to hide somewhere. The way his skin crawls tells him he’s a prey already in the mouth of a predator. And you know he’s nervous under your intense gaze because your hand feels like a lamb is still bleeding above you. His palms are sweating, and it’s nowhere near hot enough for that yet. Your smile grows to a smirk. 

Although you’re wearing the lamb, having Sunghoon’s hand in yours made you feel like a wolf. 

[burning-sol]

Whatever, creationist.

Tch. Whatever, creationist... Bet you believe gay things like there's a little bit of divinity in ALL of us...... 😒 The theist is gonna talk about their cringe feelings that it's nice to feel the unconditional love of their sense of faith and to have a sense of meaning in their life...... Tch. Whatever, creationist.........

Me: If I met an angel nobody could stop me.

[axesofpeace]

waves ^_^ how’re you today mate?

-philza

Helloooo. 🌾 'M okay, a bit hungry and tired, but I'm bundled up in bed so it's not so bad. It's getting colder here which is really nice (Though not nearly cold enough for me personally). Mostly just scrollin' through Tumblr to pass the time. How are you doing?

[plurcraft]

greetings!! could we request a dsmp! subsystem which include wilbur, dream and quackity? all of whom have roles related to hurting either internally or externally? persecutors as a main role though having some others still related to not being good influences <3 wilbur could maybe mixed with the simp!au or entirely sourced from it.

if just one, either dream or wilbur would be preferred!! thank you in advance and apologies if this is too much-

did dream only, queued

[hheeluv]

bambi hee

stop rn i miss him sm

[transmascyuki]

do u think Mizuki still has some of their old clothes from when they presented masc and alters them to fit Mafuyu when he comes out so he can explore their style and find what they like without having to spend a bunch of money

ooooooh now we're talking

I love what you're cooking, yes 100% this is canon now colopale told me so!

[dearest-painter]

imagine if Valentino had a young daughter, probably like 7 or 8 and basically he didn’t even care enough about her to teach her how to use her wings and was overall just a bad dad, but at one point Angel Dust just sees her on the street and is just like “you’re coming home with me” and basically just adopts her. But she looks a lot like her dad so he kinda knows she’s his daughter but at the same time she’s a sweet kid and can’t imagine her being related to him, but at one point Val comes to get her and he hits her in the process so Angel just gets ready to murder him.

idk, I just had that idea for a while and was hoping you could write something like that? If not it’s okay.

love your writing 💕

CAN WE PLEASE HAVE MORE OF THIS ANON!? I LOVE YHIS IDEA! Also, Husk and Nifty is in this because why not? I made this Yandere but if you didn’t want it then I can fix it! I want more of Valentino’s daughter!reader so much!

TW/CW:Yandere behavior, unhealthy behavior, unhealthy relationship,abusive behavior,abusive relationship, Valentino’s bitch ass, Valentino, Valentino about to get jumped by the whole hazbin hotel, tell me if I need to add more

Summary: Angel Dust doesn’t take kindly to those trying to hurt his family

Angel Dust was on his break, Husk and Nifty had came with him as they wanted to spend time. Angel Dust smiled as you walked around him happily babbling about something random, for being the daughter of his boss you were a sweetheart. You’ve been living with him at the Hazbin hotel for a while and have been calling him mama and husk dad which was a surprise but hey, he doesn’t mind.

You were babbling about new ideas for Nifty’s roach show. Angel Dust smiled as he held your hand as you all walked. You all sat down at a table, you and Nifty got coloring books as if you two didn’t get separate one’s chaos would ensue. “Mama! ‘M be back! Gonna use the restroom!” You announcement to Angel dust. “Okay sweetheart, do you remember where it is?” You nodded your head as you and Nifty left.

You two were inseparable. Angel Dust and Husk talked but the two of them immediately started looking around as you two were gone for a bit longer. Angel Dust stopped as he saw Valentino yelling at you, but once he raised his hand Angel Dust ran and tackled him. Nifty then started to bite Valentino while Husk held you as you cried.

You all left. Valentino stared in surprise as Angel Dust coddled you, Nifty was going manic as she kept shouting she was going to avenge her best friend while Husk was whispering to you. They took his daughter yet you don’t care. Angel Dust actually harmed him to the point he almost coughed up blood. Valentino was speechless…what just happened?