I know I barely post fanfics and I don't write for the digtial circus-
But i JUST saw the finale in theaters. It was everything.
With that said - everyone part of the show and project has said a thousand times DO NOT SPOIL the film. Not everyone has the chance to go to the theatre. There are places not screening the finale at all. People have to work, or tend to time lengthy responsibilities that prevent them from viewing the movie before the 19th (my sister for instance, and she not only introduced me the show when it first came out, but she was sweet to pay for my and my brothers ticket. She did not have to do that at all, and I'm incredibly thankful she did.)
My point of this post- fanfiction can also be a spoiler. And i know most writers put the warnings before the fanfic as to not spoil- but i think out of respect we should refrain from posting fanfics/hot takes about the finale until the 19th. Purely, and entirely for the respect of the creator(s), those who worked tirelessly for us to have this show and ending in the first place, and the thousands/millions of people who cannot go in theaters.
This is not me policing anyones fanfics. This is me saying we should hold off posting fanfics until the 19th. Doesn't mean you cant write for the 9th episode - you could write it now then schedule for the fic to post the 19th! Save it as a draft so you may perfect it in time, etc etc. Theres several options to continue to write if you've seen it early, while respecting the boundaries glitch and gooseworx have laid out.
It was genuinely such a lovely, heart wrenching, spectacular, brutal, human ending to a lovely short series, and i know everyone who both worked and watched the series is/will be whole heartedly proud. I'm devastated there won't be anymore, but I'm happy that this is where it ends.
Update: art also counts.. maybe put things below the cut? A lot of people who are blocking spoiler tags are still getting spoilers despite the fact. If you cannot or refuse to set a precedent to patiently post or take EVERY proper channel to prevent spoiling, then I don't know what to say anymore about the lack of patience and integrity this fandom has. Its entirely disheartening.
OKAY! So, I read through a ton of fanfiction, and finally played enough of the game after years to actually start writing for it. Because, truthfully, its difficult to find good writing for this damn game. Like, HELLO? You all thirst painfully over Halsin because hes a hunk of a man, BUT NOTHING FOR MINSC? THAT STUPID, MOUNTAIN OF A MAN? COME ON! Fanfic writers, get it together. You are SLACKING! Haha, anyways-
For starters, of course, allow me to fill your gullets and depraved little minds with our horned characters!
WARNINGS; Blood, open wounds, pain kink, degradation(Raphael), non-con if you squint (Zevlor). Swearing.
Not proof read.
❤️🔥~❤️🔥
They are wonderful at giving head, beautiful, sweet things. They don't mean to scratch the succulent meat of your thighs! Leaving not just lovely blooms in their wake, but scratches from the tips of their horns. Half are genuinely sorry, others find it *dreadfully* hot. And you, our sweet b/himbo of a reader, find it all the more hot than your delightful partner.
Wyll Ravenguard/Blade of Avernus
You waited literal weeks for this moment! Your sweet, ever devoted prince wanted to court you. Dance, sing, and revel with you. And while that was so sickeningly sweet and darling of him, he would also *tease* without harm. Mentioning the new prongs in his private areas left very little creativity to that filthy, debauched mind of his. And his horns?! Oh, gods save you, you're *drooling*. Wipe it up.
But, this moment had nothing to do with his fancy little blade, or his lean, deliciously dark, toned arms. It has everything to do with how slow, and deliberate his tongue strokes at your sex. Dragging, plunging, bobbing his sweet little head. With each motion, everytime he dips his head innocently, the very tips of his horns slice thin, bleeding cuts into your thighs. Not deep gashes, of course, nothing a dab with cotton and water won't fix.
Its only when he finishes, does he finally lift his cute head up in a daze. His eyes snap from their haze to your cut thighs, bleeding in mere droplets than streams.
It still worried him! His hands immediately holding your thighs close to his chin, rasping apologies has your essence *dripped* from his mouth. Oh, poor thing, his lip is trembling from how apologetic he is!
"Love," You exasperate, propping yourself on your elbows as he delicately touches the fresh scratches, "They're shallow, sweetheart. If anything, they'll scab over and flake off by tomorrow night. I'm quite alright." His scarlet eye locks onto yours, still filled with profound worry, before a wry, uncharacteristically smile etches his hell-kissed face.
"..So, am I to believe my dear heart *enjoys* this?" It's then, your cheeks flare up a delicious maroon, before you scoff with an eye roll, already dragging his head back down by his horns.
"Stop *yapping*, already!" You sigh, as he simply chuckles, lowering his face back down to your sex, his scratches now entirely on purpose.
❤️🔥
Karlach
It's when you start to whimper, whine and cry like a little pathetic baby, is when her head lifts, her chin slick and shiny.
Your wonderful tiefling girlfriend, always so hot to the touch, but, thanks to Dammon and some rather convenient infernal iron, she's able to indulge blissfully. She was quite excited for this night, waiting over a decade to touch and be known again. Hells, poor girl can't even remember her first time, thats how long its been!
Imagine how confused she looked when she keened into your watery eyes, full of pleasure and pain. Her gaze peers down to your thigh, one completely untouched, sticky with sweat. Then, her eyes lock onto your other thigh, dripping with spiral scratches and tears; all thanks to her curled horn.
"Oh, shit! Babe, I am so, so, so sorry!" She nearly props herself up, eager to retrieve a healing ointment from the camp's chest, until you gasp,
"No! Where the hell do you- get back down here." You choke through sobs, yanking her by her horn down to, not your sex, but your thigh, "*Clean* it up, you know how." You command, and while Astarion may have been the only one interested in consuming blood, its how efficiently and sassy you tugged her back down. How your fingers curled around her single horn softly, before giving it a forceful yank, unlocking a myriad of kinks neither of you knew you possessed.
"Oh, holy shit. You're.. fucking hot." She whispers, before her tongue darts out in a thick, sticky pad. Her muscle drags up your thigh slowly, savoring the metallic taste of your crimson with uncanny cheer.
❤️🔥
Zevlor
It was after the tiefling party died down, everyone turning in or falling into other's arms for a night of passion. You, our sweet, wonderful hero just couldn't take sweet defiance as an answer from the hell raiser. He had told you several times throughout the night, each rejected less firm and more drunkard than he'd like, until you came up to him one last time. Cheeks flushed from the wine that flowed like rivers, hair strewn in just the best way, eyes lidded and puffy, and lips absolutely quivering just for him.
"Alright..Fine, but, just for tonight, hero." He finally gives in, trying his best to ignore his own crimson flush. You gasp with absolute gid, dragging the tiefling leader to your tent. You toss the bottle in your hands to the ground, as you yank the tiefling to your lips. Fingers snaking up behind his horns to free his tied, golden locks.
And as the night deepened, you soon found yourself below Zevlor, his lips and tongue sucking and slurping with fervor. It isn't until you release a choked sob, one devoid of much pleasure, but a genuine *whine* of pain.
Zevlor snaps his head up, only eliciting another sharp, painful gasp, unaware of his own horns as the tips dig deeper, leaving shallow pricks webbing with blood.
"Are you okay? Was I going too fast, did I bite too hard?" He stutters, assessing your face and sex for any sharp marks, before he spots the wounds left on your thighs, "Oh, I.. apologies. The horns.. I, I can stop-"
"No!" You choke, sitting up quickly, eager to drag him back down, "No! It felt.. my adrenaline was *hot*, but each time your horns slit my skin, it made my blood feel *cold*. Its.. exciting. Painful, yes, but.. that mix of hot and cold, it feels really good. Please.. continue." You explain, your hand finding his face, thumb stroking the aged, weary depressed lines beneath his worried, golden eyes, "Don't. Stop."
And that, was it for you. Come morning, when he left your side, he healed your thighs regardless of your protests to keep the *souvenirs*.
"I can't have our savior running around with open wounds, sweetheart." The paladin chuckled, pressing a hand to your flesh as he mutters a cantrip. In an instant, the skin closed, leaving glittering glyphs in their wake. You of course, our sweet bimbo, just had to give him a pouty lip. He simply grins, taking your chaw with a firm hand, his claw scratching ever so slightly on your cheek bone,
"Wipe that pout off your lips, and I'll see to it we have another night like this, hero."
❤️🔥
Dammon
Oh, this one is truly delicious. You may not see it, but our sweet, weak, docile little blacksmith is quite the pervert. He's been dreaming of wrapping leather harnesses around you, and your camp members since the start; especially you, and Karlach. You two certainly left the impression on our poor man.
How many nights, in at Last Light he pounded metal with his hammer mercilessly. Each time you'd come back, new materials in hand, he'd create the most exquisite tools, bombs, and armor just for you. Half of it was for the sake of survival, the rest, a ploy to keep you from running off so soon.
His piercing, blue eyes staring you down as you stripped out of your clad, into the helldusk armor he made just for you. His cheeks red like a tomato, disguised by the warm, licking flames of the makeshift forge. His gaze trailing down your exposed thighs with hunger, a need to be betwixt them, sucking and practically chewing to his hearts content.
Its then his mind travels to a rather dark corner, how far he could go. How much he could hurt you, and you take it with enthusiasm. How his horns, ever long and sharp, would leave the cleanest, deepest gashes they could. Getting caught on the crevice of your flesh, leaving you a crying, pathetic mess.
Oh, how he would degrade, and praise you. Exploit your pleasure and pain for his own, to see his strong hero crumble as his horns drip in your violent crimson. Just how loudly you would scream, so he'd have a reason to forge a beautiful, custom gag just to shut you the fuck up.
"Dammon, darling," you muse, as you adjust the armor properly, "You're drooling. Are you sick?" You ask so.. innocently. You absolute cat! Knowing exactly why hes drooling, but not what's fueling him.
"Oh, am I? I suppose its.. I haven't slept in a few days." He mumbles with a grin, using his sleeve to wipe his mouth, "I probably should, although I don't particularly want to dream nightmares."
Its then that you give a shit eating smirk, taking the leather straps of his apron, playfully tugging him to meet your gaze directly, "Well, why don't you go on up and have a *wet* dream?" You laugh with evil mirth, watching the smith falter, freeze under your touch, before he gives an equally malicious chuckle,
"I didn't know I could *choose* my dreams. Perhaps, you can help me fall asleep, then."
❤️🔥
Rolan
Poor, poor Rolan. When will his luck turn? Stranded in a Druid's Grove with albiet, racist druids. Stuck in the Shadowlands, his siblings slipping through his fingers, possibly dead or being tortured as he drinks himself to death in Last Light. And when he finally reached Baldur's Gate, his long awaited apprenticeship was nothing short of an egotistical man's need to abuse wizard's across the realms.
It was *you*. You, who inspired him and his brother, Cal, to stay when his sister Lia nearly screeched her head off about leaving the kin to die. It was you, who saved him from the curse, his drinking, and brought his siblings back to him.
"I already gave you my thanks, don't be *greedy*." He mused, bringing a controlled sip up to his lips as he saw just how your eyes seemed to soften, thighs dragging together by his purr.
And, it was you, no one else, who saved him from his abusive, shitty master. It was you, who practically served him a fruitful future on a silver platter. The caterer, to his whims and hopes. And he was more of an ass than a gentleman, a trait he was quick to rectify when you both faced Lorakkan.
"I've bored witnesses to true fealty, leadership," his gaze flickers to you, sharing an empathetic smile, praising and recognizing your efforts across the coast, "But nothing like that, under *your* scrutiny." He glares at his master, crippling the mage's ego.
It was later that night, that Rolan sent out an invitation to your rented floor at the Elfsong, urging you to meet him back at Sorcerers Sundries for a proper, intimate apology.
Come that night, you took the liberty to doll yourself up for the pathetic wizard. When he saw you, his jaw nearly dropped. Lia merely teased, pressing a finger up to close his mouth, remark about a bug flying in, before leaving her brother to his well-earned privacy.
"So," you hum, sitting languidly on one of his plush sofas, "An apology? My, my, Rolan, shall I allow myself such greed?"
The tiefling rolls his eyes, pouring a rather delicious vintage wine into your crystal glass, "Typically, I'd disapprove of your needless gloating. But, considering.. everything. I'd say you earned it." Your gaze follows him, as you take a slow sip of the wine, an eyebrow raised at his turn of attitude.
"I, want to thank you. Properly. For everything. For taking Lia's side, for saving the idiots, and for.. ugh. For saving *me* from myself countless times." He huffs, finding the apology rather difficult to discuss without gritting his teeth. He isn't one for choking down his pride, no matter how appropriate and deserved.
"I want to thank you, for everything. Properly. If.. you'll let me."
-
"Holy ff...Rolan! Rolan! ROLAN!" You gasp, fingers in his hair, practically ripping strands out as he plunges his face deeper, bobbing his dusty red face into your sex. Teeth scraping the delicate flesh, his pointed nose pressed against the sensitive muscles. His horns? Digging deep, dark wounds into your thighs. The tips of the horns practically daggers in your skin, leaving gashes pooling with blood in their wake. Drops of your blood and essence drip off his head, face, *everywhere*. This was his apology, giving you absolutely every feeling possible. Pain, pleasure, assurance, disgust, delight. Everything he's ever felt for you, given in one single night.
And don't worry, the tower is full of healing scrolls and alloys. He'd surely sever your tendons for the sheer thrill, leave you to bleed and whimper.
Just you wait for the aftercare, darling. That's when he'll clean you up properly, feed you until your full. Let you drink until you can't breathe. Take care of you, because he loves you, loves you more than the blood pooling from your thighs, or the cum dripping from your pelvis. What a disgusting, perverted little man.
Gods, isn't he like a drug, absolutely addictive. May kill you during the high, but leave you absolutely breathless.
❤️🔥
Raphael + Harleep
You filthy succubitches are going to love this one.
Our defiant, resilient little hero. You thought you had it all planned; Defy the deal, buy your way into the House of Hope, and steal the Orphic Hammer. It was perfect! To shatter the chains tethering both Hope and Orpheus.
What a delicious, fucking idiotic mouse you are. Your plan went off without a hitch, until the master of the home came back a little earlier than expected. You hadn't even found the library yet, and you simpleton chose to come to hell all alone.
When Harleep found you, scuttling around the chambers, they couldn't help themselves! You were so doe eyed, so succulent. How could they not become so demanding, when you feigned such innocence.
In an instant, your clothes were gone, and you were above the Incubi's mouth, dragging your hips with no abandon. All of it, the world, your esteemed camp, everyone who depended on you didn't matter. What happened to your heart, how did you become this repulsive in a matter of seconds? How everyone, no doubt, would come to hate you for this. For endangering them, for leaving them to die at the mercy of the elder brain. Gods, your so selfish, fueled by lust. You deserve it.
"You deserve all of it." Raphael mutters, sitting in a lush, cushioned corner, a sardonic grin and his glowing eyes are all thats visible. You choke up another meaningless sob, as the jagged base of Harleep's horns cut and scraped the soft meat of your inner thighs. Blood soon trickling down their face.
"Coming into my home without your friends to tell you any better. Pathetic. They will never look at you the same." The devil spits from the infernal shadows, twirling a goblet of blood in a golden chalice, propping his feet upon a debtor with no care.
"So, utterly selfish. So broken, little mouse." And all you can do is choke on your pride, as tears, blood, and cum fill your senses. Nothing else matters. Did anything matter? Was saving the world important, compared to this moment?
"You're horrible," he degrades, taking a long sip, "You made everyone believe in your cause. And you stoop to this? A whore. You're filthy, pathetic. Call yourself a hero, and yet, the one truly heroic thing you may accomplish, you'll never get around to." With each painful jab, remark, it unfortunately only fueled your sick, depraved mind further.
"Harleep, finish them off." He commands, digging his heels into the debtor, as they grin wide, tears pricking their eyes.
Harleep, ever the pleaser, grins against your sex, flipping you onto your back in an instant, positioning their fiery, pronged cock at your entrance.
You whimper softly, hair falling onto Raphael's feathered pillows with an uncanny grace, "I..oh..fuck it. I'm pathetic." You gasp, letting your lust fuel your judgement once and for all.
❤️🔥~❤️🔥
Upcoming:
Hope you filthy freaks enjoyed! Haha! <3
Part 2❤️🔥 will have; Cal, Lia, Alfira, Lakrissa, Mizora, and some of my personal characters!
You, our *lovely* reader! Are a new sinner in hell, you awake with a new form entirely, not remembering how exactly you perished, and finding you don't entirely care! It's hell, baby! And, lucky you, instead of *having* to spend all of this time finding a job, while avoiding the acid rain, the doomsday district, and all the unsavory characters of this grimstone hell-hole, you rather take shelter at the 'Hazbin Hotel'! While being greeted by the receptionist and founder, Charlie Morningstar, the princess of hell, the actual host catches your attention the most!
Warning; Mentions of blood (you scrape your knees, fool), and your lowkey a manipulator.
The shocked sensation lingers, the pieces in your brain only beginning to form. Maybe you've simply hit your head and this is all a dream? Or, you've died and reincarnated somewhere else entirely. Either or, you have a new body, and with each pressing second you begin to forget your earthly self just a little more. You sigh, before taking a stand, and stretching your legs out. The streets around you only linger with few individuals, their appearances completely different from one another. As you walk down the concrete road, passing by each stray slowly, taking in their forms with awe and confusion, still trying to figure out entirely *where* you are.
"Ow-" You rub your head, sitting up as you blink your eyes, before properly orienting yourself. The area you've awoken in, seems rather different, a complete and starking contrast to where you just *were*. With your eyes adjusting with each blink, you notice the sky, its pure cherry red. Towering, grey buildings around you, some well maintained, others less so. Its only until you look down at yourself do you really freak out. Your skin is an entirely different color than the natural tones before, more saturated and hued. Your hair is wickedly different, but not all that bad if you're honest, and you have a few new features as well, an accustomed change to each and every sinner of hell.
It's a long walk, until you get to the more choked areas of the Pride ring, engulfed entirely by towering skyscrapers and television panel advertisements. Each advertisement flickers from an upcoming news hour, 'Vox Tech Industries', and a few other characters. The streets here are more lively, on fire yes, but bustles nonetheless.
As you watch the ad panels, each one tells you how to protect yourself in hell, or a new news cast of hell's latest gossip, or what areas in hell are hiring. It clicks, "Oh! I'm in- Ow!" As the pieces click, your pushed over onto the concrete and brimstone sidewalk, falling onto your knees and skidding them slightly, landing on your palms. A group of people, tall, pink skinned, white and black hair, and small wings, push past you, not entirely caring or seeing if you were standing there. And honestly, what were you doing just *standing* in the walk way? I mean, come on.
You pout slightly, rising to your feet once more and brushing the dirt and grime from your now bloodied knees, brushing your hands of anything else. You glare at the crowd, before your eyes settle beyond them, towards a large, slightly concerning tower, far beyond the city on a tall, maroon hill. Its sign its brightly lit with show lights, 'Hazbin Hotel', the rest of the hotel built out of questioning resources; A boat, a merry-go round, a single radio tower, and a few other factors somehow holding it up.
You smirk slightly, knowing you have no money, maybe you could attempt to persuade the very obvious, ludicrous owner for a temporarily *free* stay. You make haste, ignoring the awkward bend in your knees and the throbbing pain from the fresh wounds.
"Ow, okay, a little hard to ignore," You grunt, regardless, pushing through the pain, holding it off until later. Very healthy of you, dear reader. Very healthy, indeed.
It's a mere twenty, maybe even thirty minutes before you start the hike up the maroon hill.
"Oh- FUCK," You yelp, as each step up hill is excruciating, "STUPID, MOTHERF- HILL!" You curse, until you finally reach the top, collapsing on your back as you catch your breath. "Never, ever again. I live here now, I'm never going back up another hill *again*." You grunt, letting yourself a few more minutes of rest.
"Um, Hi! Hello?" A hand waves over your closed eyes, until you peep one open, finding a strange woman towering over you. Her hair is blonde, and held back, her attire is a complete red suit, and she kind of looks like a dog, given the shading of her nose.
"Hi!" She says again, taking your hand and helping you up, "My name is Charlie! You must be a sinner, a wayward soul in search of my hotel!" She gasps happily, stars dancing in her giant, round eyes.
You smile, "Yep! A new sinner, indeed looking for your hotel." You muse, playing with her words slightly. She gasps again, this time in a cheery, yet surprised tone, her grip on your hand tightening as she leads you from the maroon, grassy hill, to the inside of the slightly grand, shambled hotel. "This! Is my partner, Vaggie," Charlie lets you go, to grab the shoulders of a shorter woman, her appearance more gray and purple, except for her bright pink bow. Vaggie only offers a low smile, and a subtle wave, obviously her enthusiasm is merely for Charlie.
"And this! This is Husk, our bartender, and Nifty! She cleans, and makes sure the hotel is neat!" Charlie tugs you away from her moth like girlfriend, closer to the turquoise bar. The bar's energy feeling completely different from the hotel's, but its oddly befitting. Husk doesn't really pay you any mind, his head laid on the counter as he frog blinks. Nifty, however, gives you a sharp, toothy grin before stabbing a cockroach with a cynical ease, before letting out a hysterical laugh as she plays with the bug's corpse in front of it's family.
"This, *was* our first guest!" Charlie leads you from the bar to the hotel's common space. Its only a few chairs and sofa's seated around a hearth fire, and a singular box television set. On one of the couches, lays a rather lanky individual, his form slightly intriguing. Four arms, each white with pink stripes, his eyes entirely different colors, large, sharp black heels, and a little white tux.
"Awe, Charlie, I thought I was the only one who got to mooch off of you." This person simply smirks, before returning to his phone, tapping away. Charlie seems to ignore his remark, hugging the spider like man, even as he yelps from the sudden gesture.
"This! Is Angeldust. I'm sure you will both be fast friends!" Charlie chirps, her arms tightening around Angel's neck as he gasps, dropping his phone and clutching at Charlie's arms.
"Hey! Doll face," He grunts, maneuvering to slip from her grasp, darting to the other side of the sofa, "Why don't you introduce them to smiles, eh?" Angel shakes slightly, reaching for his phone while keeping a keen eye on the bubbly lady. Her eyes hold stars once more, abandoning Angel and reaching for your wrist, "Al!" She calls out, dragging you down random hallways in the hotel, as if calling to the mere shadows themselves.
"Alastor! Al! Hey! Buddy! Guy! Pal, my dear pal Al!" Charlie continues to call, before you smirk and start calling this 'Al' character as well, earning a cheeky, innocent smile from the receptionist. The shadows themselves seem to pulse not long after you join, almost offended, before a red figure walks from them.
"Charlie, my dear, the next time you need me, simply page *once*." His smile is wide and yellow, unwavering, as he cleans off his red monocle and pressing it beneath his eye. His glaze momentarily flickers to you, then back to the ditzy princess.
"Yeah, Yeah, Yeah, I know." Charlie shakes her hands with an understanding nod before moving her arms to show you off, very much like you were a prize on a game show, "I wanted to introduce you to our new guest! This is- uhhh- huh. What is your name?" Charlie stops, standing straight and looking to you expectantly.
"Oh, its Y/n, thank you." You smirk slightly, your own gaze flickering from Charlie to this Alastor individual. Charlie's confused look turns to a giant smile, "Well, Alastor, Y/n, Y/n, Alastor. Al, here, is our hotel host!"
Alastor simply stands there, eyeing you with an uneasy plastered smile, though his eyes give you no emotion behind them.
"Charlie, I love that you are bringing in guests, but please, bring ones that aren't already bleeding. Especially on the carpet." His voice has a slight charisma to it, as he twirls his microphone betwixt his fingers. Charlie, confused once more, turns to you, before her eyes find your still very much bleeding knees, "Oh! Fuck- I mean, are you okay, Y/n?" The princess looks over you, taking a clean handkerchief from her blazer pocket and begins to wipe away some of the thick liquid off the wounds.
"Oh, yes, of course. I was merely distracted, my own fault. This group pushed past me and I fell and scraped up my knees." You explain, keeping personal details to yourself as Alastor, with a flick of his fingers, has a first aid in his hands, offering it to Charlie, who takes it quickly and begins to properly bandage you up.
"Oh?" Alastor hums, his red eyes looking between you, and Charlie as she cleans the blood up. "Then, afterwards you thought our hotel was a perfect place to bleed all over?" He teases, slightly, a mere jest. Though, that isnt known to you, his antics, yet. You know nothing of this man and the demon he truly is, just that he's the host of a sleazy hotel.
"Yep, I have nothing else to do." You joke yourself, as Charlie stands, closing the first aid.
"Well, Y/n, the hotel is open to anyone searching for redemption, I hope you do stay." She smiles warmly, as Alastor takes the first aid from her clawed hands. You think it over rather quickly, giving a coy, innocent smile, "Redemption sounds like a *lovely* idea." Your tone is an entire lie as you brush over the mere idea of rehabilitation, saying whatever for a free room. Charlie, this time, gives you a deathly hug, not allowing you any chance of escape. As she squeezes the life from your lungs, Alastor simply turns on his heel, walking down the corridor, his presence causing the lights to flicker as he looks back at you,
"Enjoy your stay, Y/n."
*~*
I hope you enjoyed, and if you want part a two let me know!
I hope this message finds you and your family in good health. My name is Eman Zaqout from Gaza. I am reaching you out to seek your urgent help in spreading the word about our fundraiser. I lost both my home and my job due to the ongoing genocide in Gaza and we are facing catastrophic living conditions. 💔
I kindly ask you to visit my campaign. Your support, whether through donating or sharing, will help us reach more people who can make a difference. Thank you for your continued support for the Palestinian cause. Your dedication brings us closer to freedom. 🙏🕊
Note: Verified by several people as 90-ghost and aces-and-angels. ☑
https://gofund.me/b141d50f 🔗
Hello Ms/Mrs. Zaqout,
First I sincerely apologize for taking so long to respond, I don't really use tumblr all that often. I also apologize because I do not have any money myself, but if I did I would send you more than enough. :(
However, I will spread your go fund me so hopefully someone who can offer funds sees. I do apologize again for the delayed response. I wish you safety and refuge.
