my sweet martyrdom

pure.

[slaughtyring]

🤍 ִ 𝓂artyr ou 𝓁amby ྀ ֹ ◞

𝒊. ֹ 𓈒 ﹫ eighteen 𝆕 ݈ ໑ they : it

𓈒 ּ ( some posts directed /p )

please be over sixteen if you’re going to follow me.

i am not new to yanblr, I come back like it’s an abusive ex. this is a side blog.

single, pursue neutral leaning on positive. you can try, but it’s not a guarantee i return your feelings.

anti-c harmful paras (including incest, rape <- not cnc, etc). consent is needed always. anti-endo, complex on darkship, anti-rq, anti-transID, anti-censorship. you can interact, just don’t harass me for my opinion.

my lovely anons — 🪶, 🥛, 🫧

† my future shepherd — to my future partner ( obslove / yanblr posts. )

† my sheep in wolves clothing — to my best friend

[birdres]

 ‎  ‎ ‎ grian’s daily tumblr tip: never trust a single anon on this site. they will tell you what you want to hear and then disappear two asks later with no explanation

[slaughtyring]

† — what is anyone if not perceived? can you prove they exist? that’s why i need you to look at me. gaze upon me.

make me real with just a glance in my direction. let me thrive by your adoration.

[slaughtyring]

and like that, so quickly, so easily, I feel all alone again. how cruel a world this is. to love me, just to get rid of me.

[slaughtyring]

† — why don’t you love me? what do i need to change? i will do anything, anything for your adoration, so please tell me. what do i have to become to truly matter to you? what do i have to be?

i will be your pet, i will be a source of mutton, i will be a source of wool, i will be your sacrificial lamb — just tell me what you want from me, so i can become it readily. tell me what to do, so i can do it faithfully.

[slaughtyring]

† — give me your adoration. give me your love. i am selfish, and i want to be the priority for once. look at only me, do not forsake me for someone else. let me be your happiness, and you mine;

we don’t need anyone else.

[slaughtyring]

† — you’ve such sharp teeth, and i can’t help but beg you to bite. sink them into me and devour me whole. let me bleed upon you, being nothing but tribute to they who are holy — you and solely you.

[slaughtyring]

† — i am tired of loving, tired of wanting, tired of needing. my holy being, purge these feelings and aches from my body. let me belong to nothing but you.

[slaughtyring]

† — a mess of feathers and wool — that is what we are, and the companionship is sickeningly sweet. my depth is a privilege that very little see, so let me bear my soul to you. let me let you in, just as i’ve feared for so long. let me take you, and hide you, a cage for love.

[slaughtyring]

† — i’m sorry that i’m the one you love.

[sclass-yandere]

⠀

⏖ ♡⠀my sprout is a plant in more ways than one. growing, transforming— i look upon it in awe, through every season.

some may only pick the handsome roses, easy on the eye. others curl their fist on the thorns, blood running down the stem like tears. what of those who greedily gobble the fruit, taking without giving in return? more yet try to trim it to their desires, snipping away 'imperfections.'

do i sneer at the wilted flowers? woe is me if i curl my lip at the browning leaves. or if i dare turn my head away from the parched soil. cradling the fragile shoot, i let my sprout use my body as shade, my tears to quench the thirst. i bring bodies as nutrients, and bury them deep.

my sprout is a plant above all others growing into a mighty tree— one that i look upon in awe, through every season.

it is now my turn to rest in its gentle shade, my cheek pressed against the firm bark.

⠀

[sclass-yandere]

⠀

⏖ ♡⠀my sprout is a plant in more ways than one. growing, transforming— i look upon it in awe, through every season.

some may only pick the handsome roses, easy on the eye. others curl their fist on the thorns, blood running down the stem like tears. what of those who greedily gobble the fruit, taking without giving in return? more yet try to trim it to their desires, snipping away 'imperfections.'

do i sneer at the wilted flowers? woe is me if i curl my lip at the browning leaves. or if i dare turn my head away from the parched soil. cradling the fragile shoot, i let my sprout use my body as shade, my tears to quench the thirst. i bring bodies as nutrients, and bury them deep.

my sprout is a plant above all others growing into a mighty tree— one that i look upon in awe, through every season.

it is now my turn to rest in its gentle shade, my cheek pressed against the firm bark.

⠀

[sclass-yandere]

⠀

⏖ ♡⠀my sprout is a plant in more ways than one. growing, transforming— i look upon it in awe, through every season.

some may only pick the handsome roses, easy on the eye. others curl their fist on the thorns, blood running down the stem like tears. what of those who greedily gobble the fruit, taking without giving in return? more yet try to trim it to their desires, snipping away 'imperfections.'

do i sneer at the wilted flowers? woe is me if i curl my lip at the browning leaves. or if i dare turn my head away from the parched soil. cradling the fragile shoot, i let my sprout use my body as shade, my tears to quench the thirst. i bring bodies as nutrients, and bury them deep.

my sprout is a plant above all others growing into a mighty tree— one that i look upon in awe, through every season.

it is now my turn to rest in its gentle shade, my cheek pressed against the firm bark.

⠀

[sclass-yandere]

⠀

⏖ ♡⠀my sprout is a plant in more ways than one. growing, transforming— i look upon it in awe, through every season.

some may only pick the handsome roses, easy on the eye. others curl their fist on the thorns, blood running down the stem like tears. what of those who greedily gobble the fruit, taking without giving in return? more yet try to trim it to their desires, snipping away 'imperfections.'

do i sneer at the wilted flowers? woe is me if i curl my lip at the browning leaves. or if i dare turn my head away from the parched soil. cradling the fragile shoot, i let my sprout use my body as shade, my tears to quench the thirst. i bring bodies as nutrients, and bury them deep.

my sprout is a plant above all others growing into a mighty tree— one that i look upon in awe, through every season.

it is now my turn to rest in its gentle shade, my cheek pressed against the firm bark.

⠀

[sclass-yandere]

⠀

⏖ ♡⠀my sprout is a plant in more ways than one. growing, transforming— i look upon it in awe, through every season.

some may only pick the handsome roses, easy on the eye. others curl their fist on the thorns, blood running down the stem like tears. what of those who greedily gobble the fruit, taking without giving in return? more yet try to trim it to their desires, snipping away 'imperfections.'

do i sneer at the wilted flowers? woe is me if i curl my lip at the browning leaves. or if i dare turn my head away from the parched soil. cradling the fragile shoot, i let my sprout use my body as shade, my tears to quench the thirst. i bring bodies as nutrients, and bury them deep.

my sprout is a plant above all others growing into a mighty tree— one that i look upon in awe, through every season.

it is now my turn to rest in its gentle shade, my cheek pressed against the firm bark.

⠀

[sclass-yandere]

⠀

⏖ ♡⠀my sprout is a plant in more ways than one. growing, transforming— i look upon it in awe, through every season.

some may only pick the handsome roses, easy on the eye. others curl their fist on the thorns, blood running down the stem like tears. what of those who greedily gobble the fruit, taking without giving in return? more yet try to trim it to their desires, snipping away 'imperfections.'

do i sneer at the wilted flowers? woe is me if i curl my lip at the browning leaves. or if i dare turn my head away from the parched soil. cradling the fragile shoot, i let my sprout use my body as shade, my tears to quench the thirst. i bring bodies as nutrients, and bury them deep.

my sprout is a plant above all others growing into a mighty tree— one that i look upon in awe, through every season.

it is now my turn to rest in its gentle shade, my cheek pressed against the firm bark.

⠀

[sclass-yandere]

⠀

⏖ ♡⠀my sprout is a plant in more ways than one. growing, transforming— i look upon it in awe, through every season.

some may only pick the handsome roses, easy on the eye. others curl their fist on the thorns, blood running down the stem like tears. what of those who greedily gobble the fruit, taking without giving in return? more yet try to trim it to their desires, snipping away 'imperfections.'

do i sneer at the wilted flowers? woe is me if i curl my lip at the browning leaves. or if i dare turn my head away from the parched soil. cradling the fragile shoot, i let my sprout use my body as shade, my tears to quench the thirst. i bring bodies as nutrients, and bury them deep.

my sprout is a plant above all others growing into a mighty tree— one that i look upon in awe, through every season.

it is now my turn to rest in its gentle shade, my cheek pressed against the firm bark.

⠀