#{ ᵃⁿˢʷᵉʳᵉᵈ } ;

[exymylove]

Wait you got terminated? What happened?

first was my vent blog (no idea why or how ppl found it, I didn’t tag posts, I didn’t follow ppl, I didn’t talk to ppl there, like I think someone just stumbled across one of my vents and just reported it)

and then my other blog got reported bc of copyright infringement :(((

[naviaberries]

most of the links say the page has been deleted. Where do u find these twitter accounts i havent been able to find one in ages. Help a girl out pls lol

ohh no, really I'm so sorry if you can't open it love:'<

but here are the twitter accounts with their usernames:

the account links are embedded in their usernames

happy watching sluts

@daddy1080p

@mommy1080p

@chokinghzard

@dumb_ratboy

@sugarfemdom

@PornoCIips

@HypnoticLewds

@SexualLoverz

@weebspiit

@nsfwclipz

@smutfully

@Yummy4K

@NudezFeed

@DirtyVidsFH

@gattouz0

@nsfwvideoz

@AmatuerBabesFH

@chokehzard

@httpnarcotics

@SensualEro

@DESIRED_MERCURY

@DESIRED_VENUS

@DESIRED_EARTH

@DESIRED_MARS

@DESIRED_JUPITER

@DESIRED_SATURN

@DESIRED_URANUS

@Yummy8K

@AdultFavorites

↳feel free to message or ask anything 🧸

[valourbled]

@mydeii. They are driven to vigilance for this world of theirs is tumultuous even when quelled to silence, phainon has grown accustomed to filling the apertures of it with the mirthful quarrelling of friends, lest it grow to become cavernous — insatiable. It’s an inferred kindness that requires no true explanation, mydei knows him intimately enough to recognize the way his ambling words carry themselves, even if he is only to tersely intervene should he become too insolent for his own good. It is a disparate tension that simmers between them now, an indistinct whisper that refuses to be silenced. His smile has yet to show reluctance, balking before ally or adversary merely wasn’t tolerated, the imperviousness mydei adorned for battle comparable to his geniality, unmoved by outside influence. Yet it does not go unnoticed, for as astute as the other’s gaze was when sweeping across the battlefield, detecting weakness, formulating strategies, is he just as discerning when it comes to phainon’s inscrutable expression. Well, he had thought it inscrutable, now he was not quite as certain. “ Ah, nothing goes undetected before you, does it ?” the unyielding grip of his gauntlet is not unkind, if anything, this was the only sort of generosity mydei could offer him. The fabric contorts around the impression of his fingers, pressing divots into the pliant skin beneath, knowing the restraint required for such a feat — for his strength was indeed formidable, is enough to urge him to take a step away from his own troubled thoughts. to be so profoundly known was a vulnerability he did not think himself entirely prepared for, perhaps that is why his mouth curls at the corners into an apologetic smile. nothing was owed and there was no imperious demand for candour only this moment, where the weight of his commentary is so immense that it could tear all things before it asunder. yet he doesn’t, it is a choice to remain poised, an incarnation of violence that inflicts not even the shallowest of wounds.

Each footstep is measured, from the proud breadth of his shoulders that nurture a similar burden to the way he seemingly relies on instinct, moving to reclaim some distance between them. It is a contradiction of things, he thinks, to be so calculated yet seem governed by impulse, it is because he knows him, recognizes what dwells within him, that he understands how all of these can coexist in harmony. The tacit invitation comes as he is allowed to stand behind him, a hand idly falling from his shoulder and then retreating. because a warrior knows not to allow just anyone to remain outside of their line of sight, there was so much vulnerability imbued in what should have been a relatively standard interaction. he hasn’t, however, moved beyond his purview. there’s an alleviation that comes from basking in his presence and somehow, inexplicably, he is less conflicted than when he arrived. Yet they still decide it is better to remain on the periphery of that conversation, that the precarious depths of what could be cultivated between them were only to be acknowledged through cursory glances. Phainon, having long since become familiar with the nuances of the battlefield, knows that despite their valour there will always be some things that are even beyond the capabilities of even the most competent warrior. He does not resent it for what it is, unable to be felled by the precise downward arch of a blade, nor dispelled with the confidence that was infused with each of their strides forward, chasing those elusive flames. He cannot help but wonder what sort of injuries would either sport should they become so brazen as to tread those perilous paths, meeting each other’s gaze and refusing to be the first to blink. It doesn’t prevent the disquiet, knowing that there was something yearning to be spoken aloud that was being repressed, because he cannot truly banish it, the envisioned likeness of that immortal body bleeding from a wound he had inflicted. As they have both faced adversity head-on for so long he doesn’t fear it, not the sanguinary sprays of blood, nor the ghostly pallor of death, only that it might be his visage accompanying it. So he settles on the boundary between straying precariously close and preserving a respectable distance, depending on banter they have long since memorized and the terse utterances that often come fervently, as if they had grown sick of the waiting.

Phainon welcomes his chin as it settles beside his pauldron, indolence etched into the lineaments of his countenance, his resolute gaze intensified by the lowering of gilded lashes, seeking and extracting the most reasonable question. “ Hm, you still won’t consider it ? I cannot compensate for what you lack if you continue to evade me.” he answers with a cordial smile, dispersing some of the tension that had been mounting between them in that tangible silence. Because he knows he won’t willingly impart his weakness, it would be so utterly incongruous to the pride he harbored to be so cooperative. despite how some might view those attributes it was something that he respected. It was his earnest pursuit of his ambitions that delineated him as a worthy rival and someone who phainon only ever glimpsed with quiet reverence. The bite comes suddenly, without forewarning, banishing all of the restless anticipation that had seethed between them. Phainon’s expelled breath verges upon incredulity, to find himself seized by the jaws of a lion and yet not entirely devoured, it’s an unprecedented act of unyielding self-control. “ resorting to biting ? ”  amusement loosely wreathes through his inquiry, it could have become reprimand were it not for the unbridled mirth that glittered in his gaze. “ I had never thought I would live to see such a sight.”

from.

[totalacehole]

"You're a fan of experiments, right?" Sanji flashed Ace a teasing grin, a gloved hand raised to reveal a small transparent bag with a pepper inside, its hue an angry shade of red. "Supposed to be one of the hottest in the world. Was kinda curious if it'd have an affect on you..."

Turning at the sound, slanted eyes immediately flickered over to the crimson pepper that Sanji had presented him with. Was this a trick question? Well, it's not like Ace went around bragging about how much he enjoyed any spicy cuisine; his favorite spaghetti aglio was filled with ghost peppers, so he didn't imagine he would fare all that badly.

Still–

The cook had likely gone to some trouble to procure this vegetable, and it would be quite rude of him to not play along.

"...Ah, my devil fruit being what it is, I'm rather adept to handle anything hot in temperature, peppers included." A smirk curved around his freckled cheeks as he saucily inquired, "What kinda reward would I get should I succeed?"

[finaldisorder]

“Brendol Hux had it coming.”

A bottle of brandy in and Hux snorts a laugh at her comment, the air a rough exhale through the nose as he tilts his head back to down the last of his glass. Rolling his head to stare at her lazily, Hux offers a tight smile; she's the only one he's ever felt comfortable around, his best friend, his only friend. "And then some."

Rolling his shoulders in a slow shrug, the General shifts, slouching in his seat. "You helped make it all possible, and now look-" He waves a hand listlessly toward the panel boards of the bridge, blinking and the gentle ambience of buttons beeping echoing in the space around them. "We have it all- well, nearly all. When I'm Emperor-"

He trails off, reaching for the brandy to pour his third glass of the evening. Hux doesn't need to say anything more, he's ranted about it plenty. When he's Emperor, things will change. For the better. For him, for them. For the First Order.

[hiveruled-moved]

16. cd collection.

send a number  1 - 30  to take a closer look inside this characters life.  - Accepting!

[ YES OKAY, let's talk about the rat's CD collection, because despite being a techy individual and someone that uses Sp.otify / his phone for listening to music, Kai is also a 90's/early 2000's kid. He absolutely has a collection of physical media. He even still keeps some of the CDs in a carrying case in his car.

First of all, Nickelba.ck (his favorite band) he has practically all of their albums on CD. Then you have albums from The Beatl.es, In.sane Clo.wn Posse, E.minem, The Ki.llers, Pink F.loyd, Ho.llywood Und.ead, Thir.ty Sec.onds to M.ars, Gree.n Day, Cree.d, Slipkn.ot, Kor.n, Meta.llica, AC/D.C, & B.lack Sabbat.h. He probably has some more obscure bands/artists in there too. ]

[lawhurt]

jamie's suicide attempt :)

nothing was meant to change my mind. my father didn't care, my sister certainly didn't. perhaps this was his repentance. perhaps he'd sealed this fate all those years ago, when he'd looked into the receptionist eyes, &. sent HER in anyway. truthfully it was his greatest regret. the one thing he'd never be able to rectify, the one thing that he cannot escape more than any other single thing in his entire existence. he sees all his rises but his family sees them all as failings, &. this? he will never recover from it. he was too cowardly to face his sister, if he couldn't help her. he wanted to fix it, but instead he made it so much worse. married to it. it wasn't just about the town, it was about dad -- god, he hadn't needed anything else. their mother had died so soon, leaving him twice down in the maternal department.

perhaps if she were here to love me as i should have been loved, things would be different.

if he had been man enough to apologize before decades went by to settle seething hatred, would she have forgiven him? likely not. does he deserve her forgiveness? no. foolish beliefs she would leave, &. the abuse would end. abuse he knows he deserves, which is why all his threats are empty. why they always will be empty 'till the end of their time. he will never have her arrested, he will never . . . never say never.

of course that was on his mind as he stands in front of the gun cabinet, his fingers sliding down ornate door while eyes similarly carry themselves over the line of rifles hung behind parted glass. EVERYTHING IS NUMB except the flutter in the center of his chest. something more akin to nervous excitement than it ever was fear. more cowardly to take the easy way out than it is not to hurt yourself. if he had no intentions, this is where he would have turned back. if he went up there &. came back down of his own volition, he will never live it down.

it's hard not to think about the last words his father &. sister had said to him as hands coil 'round barrel &. jamie hefts the weapon into his two hands. he looks down at it for a period. his hair shielding temples. dad won't notice. this house is a castle, &. jamie is invisible within it unless mistake's trail leads back to him. the fragile mind-state he was &. continues to be in, something that unraveled fast from the initial gut-wrenching pain of taking a life.

'now you see yourself the way the world sees you. the way i see you. the way he sees you. & no amount of scrubbing will ever change that." . . . 'you should really consider killing yourself'. . . .

'there's always a choice. you could have thrown yourself in the river. but hurting yourself never even crossed your mind, did it?'

OH FATHER, YOU HAVE NO IDEA.

no matter how much he scrubbed it would never wash away. bloodless crime, but such does not account for the anguish of grime in the throes of unrelenting remorse &. self contempt. just wanting to look in the mirror &. see someone he recognizes. something that only seems possible beneath the brim of hat long plucked from his head to hang above the libra scale.

he'd wanted to scream &. scream until there was nothing left in his lungs &. he suffocated on his sobs.

now he's truly numb. it already feels a fraction better as sun hits squinting eyes and weightless legs carry him down the porch steps with the rifle in one hand. lips rearing as hand comes to shield whilst surveying the early morning view of what meant more to his father than his very life. he believed in his heart that his father would feed him to wolves in an instant to protect what is his. hell, he killed lee for it . . . & he truly loved lee. what would he do to jamie, if he needed to?

&. funnily enough, jamie doesn't even know he's adopted, yet.

he hardly feels his legs, even though he saddles no horse. now that, would be noticed. arm swaying lightly as he strolls off into the vastness of the land, where he would continue on for some time. he knows where he'll end up, &. his autopilot takes him there. one downfall of his plan. though each step &. the doubt seeps from shoes to soil like spiritualist believe happens to our negative energy. he feels more at peace with each pass to comfort. each pass of eyes over his superior. the land, the land, the land. he will die for it, just like his father wants. laid to rest in the dirt next to the great-grandfather he was "named" after . . . (more-less a welcomed coincidence). a James Dillard Dutton lived before him. much more deserving of the moniker, he's sure.

it's a solitary experience, dying. the one thing we all do alone. he hadn't heard, his father &. rip's horses ripping through grass searching for his wandering footsteps. too focused, for he can't deal with it. his sister can reach into his psyche with her eyes &. finds pleasure in digging in with a scalpel to make sure the pain is far worse. to make sure she leaves him empty &. gasping, thankful for her departure. their encounters often leave him sobbing until there's no tears left.

that's just it. there's nothing left.

as he approaches that clearing, in what he thinks are his final moments. they don't last long. the moment he hears the colts clomp against the grass the sting, the pain . . . all in an instant it returns, &. he knows it spite of any protest that he will not be going through with it. steels gasps. wants too bad to be able to just shove the gun against the back of his throat &. pull the trigger before he can talk him out of it.

alas. what can you do when hurting yourself is just as shameful as not? the contradiction. the belief his father would help him rebuild himself, he wanted so badly to be seen by him enough to know he needed help. he felt that, but it was a lie. &. i think deep down, he knew it, too. but he couldn't disappoint his father.

the pain would haunt him after death.

⚖️ @avemaria ↪ send me a scene that happened in canon and I’ll write in detail how my muse felt in it!

[exymylove]

NOO WDYM THEY TERMINATED UR ACC WHY TF WOULD THEY (help i was so confused as to why i wasnt following u alrdy lol) ANYWAYSS HELLO AGAINN :33 (tbh ive wanted to interact with u more lmao hehe)

they reported my account :((

and then it deleted :((

[guqinstrings]

-ˋˏ🌥 ┈┈ @tiianwens inquired ; ❛  watch out!  ❜

   THERE IS A PROBLEM that comes with the title of APPEARING AMONGST CHAOS. Of chasing any and every single ounce of chaos. With chasing ghosts that don’t answer Inquiry or perhaps even exist at all. As selfless as the world seems to believe him to be, to the point of pinning the title HANGUANG-JUN on him, there is always an underlying, alternative motive to the things that anyone does. Especially Lan Wangji. 

   The problem of appearing amongst chaos, is that one day it very well might get him killed. When the Juniors aren’t with him, Lan Wangji is perhaps no better than a rogue cultivator, wandering around without aid and throwing Bichen and Wangji at anything deemed a problem. Walking Corpses, Fierce Corpses, Water Ghouls, Demons, Demonic Spirits, if it was labeled a problem it didn’t matter how difficult the problem was deemed to be–he threw himself at it. Even if he cannot handle it, even if it poses a problem, even if he might need help. He takes it on himself without hesitation. 

   There is a good list of Lan Sect Rules he breaks doing that.

   The problem that he’s appeared amongst was actually unknown. He spoke to a few villagers, collected what information he could without using too many words, and tried to deduce what it was from that. He was never good at talking, at working information out of people and for that he definitely was going to get himself in trouble. Like he did now. 

   What he had believed to be nothing more than a restless ghost, something he could play Cleansing for and send to their eternal rest, turned into something much more fierce. A spirit that seemed to be bathed in resentful energy, angry and irate, unwilling to move on but rather be consumed by their negative emotions and the resentful energy. Spirit turns to demon–and demons require a much different intervention method. 

   If suppression does not work, destruction is next. 

   What he does not expect is in the middle of the fight with this creature that he was most certainly not winning against–is to be smacked into. A lot has happened in his long years as a cultivator, a lot of strange things have happened. He’s had people hide behind him, he’d protected someone against his own Sect, he’s used himself as a shield–he has never had someone bodily try to move him out of the way. 

   “... ! ” 

   It certainly surprises him, it certainly catches him off guard, it absolutely has him giving pause. Enough that he is actually capable of being moved out of the way before the creature would have more than likely sunk its arm into his chest. His feet plant firmly onto the ground, his arm moves to grab at the robes of the man that touched him and moves him out of the way instead. Shoving him behind Lan Wangji he throws Bichen and the spirit sword flies through the air chasing the target. While Bichen aimed at the spirit he pulls Wangji from his back and yanks on the strings of the Guqin, throwing a powerful wave of spiritual energy through the strings at the enemy. 

[ncmither]

@fcgwise said ❝ look at me . ❞ from meme .

Their grip is tight on his jaw. He can feel the strength in those fingers as they force him to focus. Both their eyes meet and it weighs heavily on him. David had been upset over something. A piece of paper being destroyed during the last trial. So thin and worn that it was a fragile thing. It had meant something to him but he couldn’t remember. Had it been from someone he loved? Someone who had loved him? All that had been left was a scrap with elegantly written handwriting, faded almost to unreadable measures. Forever yours, T. It had been destroyed and David had a fit of rage that had broken down into him on his knees and sobbing. Why was it so heartbreaking that something so stupid was gone? He couldn’t even remember why it had been so important. Then Vittorio had taken him so firmly and forced him to look at him.

He looked into those wise eyes and saw his own reflection. David saw the years he had wasted pretending to be straight because society couldn’t handle a star athletic being anything but homosexual. He could drink, party, and make the evening news for anything else but curse him for loving another man. David’s father had caught him with someone back when he was in university. The man had threatened to disinherit him and cut off his access to money. Who was the guy again? He couldn’t even remember their face but it had been someone so important to him. Yet, he had denied who he was for so long. All the anger and rage and here was Vittorio, a man who had spent centuries in this place. A true survivor.

Look at me. David was tired of being someone he wasn’t. None of the others in this place knew who he had been. They cared more about trying to survive and trying to get back to where they had come from. Yet, where would that leave him? Alone. He was tired of being alone. He was exhausted from being angry all the time. Broken bones and bruised ribs meant nothing to him. He was so tired and was done fighting himself. Rik had called him a circus lion. Maybe it was time for him to break out of his cage. Maybe that’s why he did it. With Vittorio’s grasp so firmly on him, maybe that’s who he reached up and held the man’s face in his hands. He wasn’t a circus lion. He was David-fucking-King and he was done pretending. That was the real reason why he pulled Vittorio forward and kissed him. A trembling and desperate kiss. A baptism overseen by the Entity that trapped them in her realm.

[totalacehole]

shamrock dozen step skin care routine meanwhile shanks barely touches soap the superior twin /jk jk

Shanks literally thinks that a bar of soup can be used to clean any part of the body- And when I say any part, I mean. Any. Part.

Also, he would just call Shamrock a sissy for the skincare shit. Just sayin'.

[finaldisorder]

Hey Martin - you're pretty hot

"Oh, sweetheart." He chuckles in amusement, head tilted and glee painted to every single inch of his face. Features scrunched in genuine enjoyment of the comment - although, he's a master at manipulating his own emotions. Knows how to play and fawn and feign. One arm lifts, scratches at the base of his skull. Plays with unruly and tangled curls at his temples before he's lounging back with a satisfied sigh.

The sweet, innocent, admirable aura he presents drops entirely. Hands rest on his thighs, palms flat and fingers drumming lazily on the soft cotton of his trousers. A huff of a laugh escapes him, the sweet smile once bright now shifting, snaking, into a curved and lascivious smirk. The laugh offered had been one that suggests he wants to say something else. Wants to scream in the face of the other that they're unworthy of his attention, his time, his eyes burrowing holes in their head.

His voice drops, a gravel timbre; a growled chuckle. "I know."

[hiveruled-moved]

14. ( dany wants to know what forums he trolls lmao )

send a number  1 - 30  to take a closer look inside this characters life.  - Accepting!

14.  computer home screen.

[ Oh boy, so to start off his wallpaper is pretty basic for the most part, most likely one of the default images the computer program comes with or some sort of a horror film wallpaper, he's not really into aesthetics. The shortcuts are incredibly disorganized and are coding software programs, Net.flix, Spo.tify, a pirated version of PS (he's not good at using it, he just likes fucking around on it sometimes), three different internet browsers Go.ogle, Firef.ox & T.or, and PC games like, but not limited to: CO.D, Wo.W, G.TA, & various horror games.

If you were to further search his browsers though, there's Twit.ter, Youtu.be, Redd.it, 4ch.an, porn / cam sites, pirating sites for movies & tv shows, shock websites, news websites, & random chatrooms & forums found on the dark web.

As for specifics of what kind of forums he goes on, they have a broad range. Canonically he goes onto r/Re.dPil.l, but he also goes onto various political, religious, horror, gore, & shock s.ubre.ddits & forums. In particular I think he likes to troll any forum topic or chatroom that has any capacity of being very divided by people's opinions or if the content is intensely ridiculous. Anything to give him entertainment and a laugh if someone on the other side is clearly getting angry or agreeing at whatever he says, even if he doesn't believe it himself. ]

[lawhurt]

so how much of a hick is Jamie exactly? montana boy who was sent to the big city only to end up back home working for his dad in any way possible. does he like country? does he sing to himself as he does work?

jaime doesn't hate working for his dad at first. he doesn't mind being home. i think mostly because being made chief of council, &. more-less running the ranch behind the scenes deluded him into thinking his father actually wanted him to be a big part of, if not inherit the ranch's legacy. especially after lee died, &. jamie became the heir to the dutton name, as the second child.

when he was younger he wanted to be a cowboy. he was raised to run the ranch, &. to do it well. or -- that's what he thought. but in reality, the enormous amount of internal knowledge he gained about the ranch was all in support of his eventual legal career. but such also helped him grow smarts regarding monetization, &. it's always been advice his father never cared to hear.

(it's funny just how preposterous it is to deny the one child who wants your shitty legacy but ok).

but think once he realizes his dad isn't going to give him the life he wants, he decided he wanted to take it back when he bought his own property. he said he wanted to be his dad when he grew up, &. it seems like he meant it. he wants to do things his own way, &. again he doesn't mind the work it takes to get it there. he hasn't left montana &. he won't, either. anything pertaining to his career is just a facet of him, but it's never what he wanted. he'd rather have been a rancher.

i'm still not sure if i want jamie to sell the ranch in my own canon. i uh, i get why he would want to after what happened. but, i also think it was . . . idk i think he could save it, as long it doesn't turn out that beth forced him to sell.

but i think he never really gives up on his being rewarded for all of his good work, until he meets sarah. then he's deciding to take it back for himself, &. i think john has a formidable opponent in the monster he created.

i think jamie uses work as an escape. i think he can not think, enjoy the sights &. the ache. he loves riding, roping, branding. he's just... he's very in-tune with the work, with himself. self-aware. idk man. i really wanna write him living on the ranch he bought, making the money john wishes he could while playing with his cattle herding collies &. being a daddy.

⚖️ @avemaria 𝐀𝐒𝐊𝐄𝐃  ↪ random hc

[exymylove]

huh???? i was so confused whenn i saw u followed me and i realised i wasnt following, how come it was terminated???

new account lol, my last account got deleted by tumblr :(

[guqinstrings]

-ˋˏ🌥 ┈┈ @ghcstchild inquired ; ❛  it's nothing.  ❜

   IT’S ALWAYS NOTHING with him when it comes to his own health. That was something learned throughout their shared history. It was always something that brought him irrevocable pain to still think about. Apparently, it never crossed his mind that all he continued to think about were those THIRTEEN YEARS he spent without the other because it was nothing. Still, even now it seemed, Wei Wuxian continued to fail to realize all he had to do was ask for help. 

   When the world stood against him, did he still not realize that Lan Wangji was determined to stay by his side? Regardless of what the Cultivation World threw at them, all he wanted was to protect the man who was currently telling him it was nothing. 

   There are many words that Lan Wangji can say, many that would fit and would even be heard. Despite how much he failed to listen to warnings, he listened at the very least to the words when Lan Wangji spoke. He might not heed the warning, but he listened. However, as many gathered in his throat just as many found themselves choked down. Having the words to say and being able to speak them didn’t always go in tandem with Lan Wangji. He could fill an entire memoir with the words he had for Wei Wuxian, but they would struggle to fall from his lips. 

   So instead of saying them he knelt in front of the other, undoubtedly getting grass stains on his white robes. He would drench them in much more and had for the Cultivator across from him. Reaching his hand out he gently took hold of the thin wrist that held onto the Dizi, tugging it over toward him and turning it so he could look at the cut across his arm. With his Cultivation not what it used to be, Wei Wuxian was much more susceptible to wounds and infections. He was by no means weak, he would never consider this man weak, but he didn’t recover as quickly as Lan Wangji did. 

   Still, to some extent, he was right. The wound wasn’t that bad and he had more than enough supplies on him to take care of the wound. A simple cleaning and bandage would patch the other right up. 

   Letting go of Wei Wuxian’s wrist he reached into his robes for his Qiankun pouch and opened it up. Fetching out the jar of cream and a roll of bandages, he sat both down beside him. Tucking the pouch back away he held his hand out for Wei Wuxian’s own again. He will not force him to let Lan Wangji patch him up, but his heart would be eased and honored if the other let him. 

   “Even nothings require some treatment, Wei Ying.”