#ANON MY BELOVED

[can-i-make-image-descriptions]

I am curious! How do you pick which posts you add image descriptions to? Is it just blogs you follow? Do you search for posts with images? Do you add image descriptions to every post with a photo that doesn't already have one?

Mostly it's just stuff on my dash. Occasionally, I go through submission blogs that get mostly pictures and draft a bunch of posts to describe later. There are people I follow mainly to get posts to describe (I do not endorse anyone I reblog from).

Nowadays, I tend to only describe posts with ~1,000+ notes because many people I follow don't want their posts to "breach containment" and me reblogging them to here would give them attention they don't want.

Beyond that, I don't describe a whole lot of art because I don't consider that a strength of mine, though I have done it before. You'll probably notice I mostly transcribe text.

[orangekingfisher]

what's "mcsr"? my chemical SUPER romance?????

its. it's minecraft speedrunning

[feyinvestigations]

Could you draw Nightwing in a rainbow colored costume? Also, I love your Twitter AU posts, and I hope you can overcome your art block.

Aaaaaaa tha k you so much!!!!! I'm glad you like the Twitter series, it's been an absolute delight to write :]]]]

Here's a rainbow discowing!!!! Yes hes doing pommel horse on a ladder. Please pretend I'm posting this in pride month peace and love <3<3

Also a normal discowing also for pride month!

[redfielddoesthings]

ooouuuahhhh your art is so damn pretty, i dont know what it is about it, maybe the use of colors, but icl i see your art and im sat there staring at the screen like its one of those fruit sensory videos

if youre up for a request at all, literally any content of peanut and/or ricky would be a blessing, those two deserve sm love

THIS ASK HAS LIVED RENT FREE IN MY HEAD SINCE IT CAME UP!! I don't think I've ever got such an interesting compliment and everytime I draw, I think about this ask specifically and it makes me smile…

Anyways, Hello there!! ♡⁠˖

So thanks, anon, that was brilliant. 🙌✧⁠*⁠。

I tried to make this one extra special and colorful for ya, also why not both of them? Hope you like the results ♡

Thanks again, anon… #sob 🤧

[dashing-through-ecto]

Who do you think is longer? Baby loop or baby man?

Baby loop is slightly longer.

Baby men Masterpost

[xiaoluclair]

can we have ur gif on video as an editor i need it badly😭😭😭PLEEK

🧎‍♀️.

[grungiiuvu]

Fengqing are the kinda couple to describe each other perfectly when asked “what’s your type” but not know they’re crushing on each other.

Somehow, they both think the other was talking about Xie Lian or Pei Ming, even though the adjectives used could never fit them....

[hellsgreatestslut]

Charlie/Emily/Lute anon is back because the Lute housewife thought didn't leave. I love sending you asks!

Lute probably would not let her wife around Adam, or has her arm/wing around her if out of the house together around Adam. He probably complains. Also aww the poor housewife reader when Lute comes back one day with one less arm...

it's you again!! <3

Lute would be SO overprotective, especially around Adam, because...well, it's Adam. He'd definetly try to flirt with you and she'd just be boiling with rage. And she'd always try to show everybody around you're hers and hers only.

also imagine all the angst you could write with housewife reader and Lute after season 1 finale, like...i'd die to read something like this!! (but i couldn't bring myself to write it, because writing angst actually hurts me :( ). no arm? Adam died? the potentialllllll

[hongtiddiez]

give me three niche alanjeff headcanons 👀

niiiche huh

I think jeff gets supremely pissed if alan ever brings up his age during a disagreement and alan has to spend some time apologizing

I think alan focuses a lot more on getting jeff off than getting himself off

jeff has seen everything about alan's life and their future, alan never asks and jeff never offers but sometimes alan catches jeff smiling to himself when he thinks he isn't looking and he knows he's found his home

[dumbdomb]

i'm constantly daydreaming about a group of friends who edge and goon together for hours and days, all of us encouraging each other to go dumber and edge more, rewarding each other with toys or offering our mouths and holes and dicks to use as toys, and everyone is getting happier and more ditzy and bouncy and just... hng 🤤🥰

Read my pinned BEFORE you interact! 18+ only.

READ MY PINNED before you interact! 18+ only.

this is the dream!!! 💕🥰 i want be totally corrupted by everything that helps my friends goon, lazily going at it for hours and never really stopping. being sooo overstimulated but it feels too good, my brain melting away... everyone focused on chasing the next climax, turning each other on again, not even thinking about what they're doing, mindlessly humping.

Read my pinned before you interact! 18+ only.

⚠️ READ MY PINNED ⚠️

[my-pjo-stuff]

What people think the titan army dynamics are

Luke-Abuser and pedo

Chris-the abused , Clinically insane

Ethan-Monster and murder

Alabaster-Creepy magic dude that got all his siblings killed on purpose

Silena-Tortured traitor was forced and manipulate into being the traitor

THE ACTUAL TITAN ARMY DYNAMICS

Luke-Tired dad of 300

Chris-GET THIS MAN HIS WIFE(Clarisse)

Ethan-Scary :3(He thinks he’s scary <- he’s not)

Alabaster- *Le tWiNk* Silena-GET THIS GIRL HER SKIN CARE 🎉🎉🎉 AND SOME BEAUTY SLEEP BECAUSE SHE HAS TO DEAL WITH LUKE

Thank you for coming to my ted talk (This is meant to be funny)

This is in fact, very funny.

[quiggel]

'What happened in ninjago'

I'm going to assume you just didn't watch dragons rising and you know about nya turning into the sea and the Big Finale

so the merged realms happened because guess what? A huge hole ripped into the sky and the 16 realms amalgamated into one

the ninja are all separated and stuff and shit happens

Kai is on the bounty and went exploring and then finds Lloyd who was left alone for god knows how long

two kids named Arim and Dora join the team with a dragon named ryu

Cole was sent to the forgotten realm don't ask

something something wyldfyre joins the team and has the power of heat (it's generally accepted that she's just. Kai's kid now)

oh yeah jay turned evil and also has amnesia

anyways. All that happens. please just watch it i can't explain all of this properly

NYA TURNED INTO THE SEA?!!??!!

[cillivnz]

𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐬 𝐜𝐞𝐭 𝐞𝐧𝐟𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐮 𝐞𝐬 𝐦𝐨𝐧 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐬 [𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐬 𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐝𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐭]

CHAPTER ONE —— AFTERMATH

warnings. angst, gore descriptions, torture, mentions of death, stabbing, shooting; basically your average 14 minutes into a john wick movie.

a/n. occasionally updating the preliminaries post of this series as deemed necessary. all warnings and details would be mentioned in that post. note, this is a slow burn (emphasis on slow). i hope you enjoy reading this short chapter, i promise it’ll get better. this one’s for the anon who wanted angst, i owe it all to you, honey. <3 pardon any inaccurate translations.

notes. Rehneyr Corsioni [OC] — ex-associate of reader’s father. Edgar Corsioni [OC] — Rehneyr’s son.

TRANSLATIONS. mon ange — my angel; tenez-moi — hold me; va te faire foutre — fuck you/fuck off; “Écoute, si tu parviens à répondre, tu seras libre de vivre ce qui reste de ta vie pathétique.” — Look, if you manage to answer, you will be free to live whatever is left of your pathetic life; “Sing, pute.” — Sing, bitch; “Je ne ferais jamais ça.” — I would never do that; “Laisse moi ici,” — Leave me here;

Clustering sounds beside you were your alarm. Your eyes fought to get adjusted to your dimly lit surroundings, in a panic, you shot up from the bed. Bed? You were uncertain of where you were, until you saw a tall figure hulking, with his back towards you. As if sensing your inquisitive eyes on him, he turned around, a solemn expression on his face, plump lips sealed tight, yet his gaze softened at the sight of you. “Good… morning.” He said shaking his head, it seemed like he wasn’t too fond of his words, considering the sun set a few hours ago. You took a moment to look down at yourself, wearing an oversized, white silk shirt, and your panties. “I took the liberty of cleaning you, I’m sorry, ange.” He was avoiding your gaze, looking at the foot of the bed. “It’s okay, Vince.” “I appreciate you.” Your voice was soft, just a whisper lingering in the breeze.

“You need to rest.” He spoke with an authoritative concern. “I can’t, I just woke up.” You let out something along the lines of a chuckle and a scoff. “Lie down.” He raised his brows, a pleading look on his handsome face. “Lie down with me.” You quirked a brow, not anticipating the flush on his cheeks to be so prominent. “If, uh, if that’s what you want, ange.” He dare not look at you while discarding his jacket, slowly climbing beside you in the queen-size bed, long legs almost swinging out of it; the long bed that sufficiently accommodated you, failed to do the same for him.

Perplexity. Life had a way of arousing it, for life is a gland and these shitty plotholes are the hormones it secrets into your bloody life. A day ago, you mourned the loss of your family, this man, one who vowed service to your father, abandoned him when he needed him the most; when you needed him the most — but he’s here now, isn’t he? You should’ve been mad, hell, he of all people knew the degree of your wrath once unleashed, but you couldn’t be mad at your Vince, not when he sank into the mattress, beside you, pressing himself against you, tauntingly gently, reluctant on whether to be a bit selfish and let his arm rest on your waist, close all humane proximity between you two, and let whatever warmth he still possessed, even if it came from the fiery depths of hell he was certain to burn in, creep onto you.

You noticed this reluctance, despite not facing him. You couldn’t, you feared what you’d do once you’d catch those ocean eyes of his staring into the depths of your soul, digging an abyss into it with his piercing gaze, creating his personal hell inside of you.

“Vincent,” you whispered. “Yes, mon ange.” His soft voice whispered. “Tenez-moi.” Finally, the hesitant arm found homage, snakes around your waist, pressing his godly body against yours. The grip was possessive, permanent, and above all, right. Nothing has ever felt so right, to both of you. In that moment you knew, Vincent would fight heaven and back for you, in your name, whatever it takes.

Amidst your sleep, you heard agonising whimpers from behind you. Both of Vincent’s hands were on your hips, like the fullness of them was comforting. “Ange,” He shivered a whimper, grip tightening around your hips, squeezing them in fear, fear of whatever horror he saw behind those eyes shut tight.

“It’s okay, Vince. I’m not going anywhere.” You whispered, fingered grazing the veins on his large hands. He seemed to lean into your touch, crouching so his head could rest on your shoulder. ‘Not now, not ever.’ You meant to say, but you’re never had a way with words, a knotted tongue and a betraying body.

When morning came, so did the hellhounds. Jolting up at the sound of gunfire, your first thought was if Vincent got hurt, but not seeing him in bed with you as you’d requested, somehow, hurt more than what you’d knew a shot to the heart would. Getting up from the sheets in a frenzy, you reach for your 9mm and rush to the window. The sight below was three men circling in on one Vincent. Three armed men, and one Vincent with his weapon on the ground. You aim at the thug on the left — headshot; right, headshot, leaving the big boy with one man to knock down, a piece of cake, considering the boy was 6’4. He looked back at you, a grin plastered on his beautiful face, before he turned to the man in-front of him and tackled the shooter to the ground. “Atta boy.” You yelled out the window, before heading down to assist him.

‘Torturing’ is what an amateur would call it. You, on the other hand, say it like it is. ‘Information extraction’, it is. That’s truly how simple it is, the good ol’ human compliance, cooperation. You wouldn’t want to be a sinful Pinocchio and say you didn’t enjoy it when they didn’t, however. A challenge, hellions and rascals, and you loved brat-taming. Foreseeable, was this sight. A man stripped to the bone, tied in razor blade ropes of bondage, bleeding rivers of crimson at the hands of you and your beloved. Friend. Beloved friend.

“Tell us who sent you.” Vincent demanded, the tone of his voice was enough to snap you out of your sinister daze and let gooseflesh arise. “Va te faire foutre.” The son of a bitch had the audacity to retort. “Écoute, si tu parviens à répondre, tu seras libre de vivre ce qui reste de ta vie pathétique.” You sigh, rubbing the bridge of your nose in annoyance. The bastard spitting on your face was the last straw for Vincent, who conjured a knife from an apparent holster and grabbed the perpetrator by his short hair. “If you won’t talk,” he said, slashing the man’s throat in one swift stroke, “Sing, pute.”

Fear, for the first time, as the evening sun made feeble attempts to paint the perpetrator’s etiolating face a hue of tangerine, gargling on his own blood, he managed to weakly reveal, “Corsioni,” before leaving this realm, leaving behind no legacy in a maggot’s world, but a mess for you and Vincent to clean.

Rehneyr Corsioni, an associate of your father’s. You remember talk amongst your mother and his wife of a marriage (of convenience) between you and his son, Edgar. “Je ne ferais jamais ça.” You’d scowl at the sound of his name. He had his Russian mother’s face and his Italian father’s eyes, his skin and her hair. A lethal combination, something many a woman has succumbed to in the past, but not you. You had your own plans involving a very mercurial and brooding Parisian boy. His fawn hair, his blue-green eyes; you’d decided to call the colour a shade of Turkish blue. Looking at him now, dried blood splatters tainting his face, you noticed he hasn’t changed much. He was still your Vince, right?

After ridding yourselves of the body, Vincent and you stayed outdoors, staring into the wisteria horizon; at the ravens flying into the greenery and at the bats flying north. “How are you holding up?” He asked you, breaking the silence after minutes of staring at you, a habit you’ve noticed him picking up. “All things considered…” you paused, peering into the sky as if the clouds were etched in your answers. “I’m just glad you’re with me, Vince.” You turn to him, resting your head on his shoulder.

May you be damned for finding solace in this state, but were you really to be blamed when tonight’s the first time he’s lowered his walls? Just enough for you to hop over, or sit atop them prettily. “About that,” he inched away a little, causing you to raise your head, tilting in confusion. “I think you should leave.” He spoke, his words were choked by uncertainty and his brows furrowed at how pathetic he sounded. “What?” Your voice was barely a whisper. “America. Stay there for a bit, lay low, or even find contracts. Laisse moi ici, just until things pacify.”

Pacify? What was left to assuage in this city of ruins? “Vincent, there’s nothing left for me here — for us, here.” You began reasoning, eyes flickering from his face, to his hands. When he blatantly refused to meet your gaze, you grabbed one of his hands, the whole of your hand seemingly elfin in his large ones. This act forced him to stare you down, unlike he does voluntarily, from time to time; this instance, you had to force him to look you in the eye.

“I’ve already booked a ticket, an apartment, clothes, everything— you don’t have to worry about none of that.” He tightened his hold on your hand, grabbing the other, too. “Please, Ange. I need you to do this.” He beseeched. Never had you ever seen such a pleading look on his face, agony whirling in his eyes. “For me?”

For him you found yourself on a plane to New York, tears threatening to break the dam of dignity in your eyes and flood away as you reminisce about his arms that wrapped around you the night before, and the way he leaned in but pulled away in the blink of an eye, muttering curses, unheard of by you, but the twitch of his mouth and the tearing up of his eyes didn’t go unnoticed by you.

If your departure meant more to Vincent than he was letting on, why was he adamant on sending you away, and what wrath will the city of Paris go through now at the hands of a man apoplectic with provoked rage? Unfortunately, you couldn’t see for yourself, so, you let sleep cradle your being and drift off to some unconscious safe haven.

[xiaoluclair]

😭😭😭

He's so funny! Still not following max!

charles leclerc in his not following max verstappen era ✨✨ 🌈❌

[grungiiuvu]

The fandom often refers to Fengqing as the Jesters of heaven, because of their absolute hilarious fights and interactions, but historically, Jesters were actually well respected, trusted, cared for advisors of the king, often one of his closest advisors which is why they were the person in the court allowed to mock him, so i propose a setting where either FX or MQ is a ruler with the other as their historically accurate jester, in this essay i will-

Anon, you genius, please continue with your essay forever 🫶🫶

[hongtiddiez]

which are your top 3 favorite intimate scenes you've seen in bl? (kissing scenes count)

ALRIGHT my last ask in my inbox and the one i wanted to give some proper attention to. my answers for this might be a little odd? NC scenes are cool, i'm largely asexual but i can enjoy them, but i'm really going after the word intimate here and intimacy can be so many different things.

the gasp i gusped when i saw this scene the first time. this was almost peak intimacy for me. the offering of oneself, the silent plea, the reluctance, the gentle resignation, the quiet guilt free acceptance. body language is one of the sexiest things to me and this scene felt like watching two souls flay themselves alive in front of each other. it was like wen opened his chest and said "my love for you is like a garden of eden in my chest, the apple is there for you to pick" and jim cast his eyes away because the temptation of the apple was too great and he couldn't bear the consequences of taking it for himself.

i don't know that i'll ever move on from this, and of course it's another p'aof moment. this was fucking erotic. this still makes me hold my breath and makes my chest flutter. i said it in the tags of a post once but never properly; in a recent study from UC San Diego researchers have discovered that humans can use the sense of touch to feel the difference between surfaces that differ by just a single layer of molecules. our sense of touch is fucking incredible and then to do this?

i once had someone i knew flirt with me while i was at work. they couldn't be overt, couldn't be too much because i was working and i was being a professional, so he took my hand and ran his fingers across the inside of my wrist and my palm so fucking slowly like this, said "i'll see you later" in a low tone with this fucking smirk, and i haven't been able to forget it 10 years later.

this is just a different level of intimacy entirely and i'll rotate this in my brain until i die.

god this scene. in both manner of death and triage we have a moment in the show where the couple just takes care of each other and i love that. i love seeing men care for each other.

sure, this scene did eventually lead to sex (it's implied i believe in the show but pretty overt in the book) but there's just something about showering with someone. tan comes into the shower and just gently washes bunn, and this is after some of the most stressful moments of their life. they've experienced immeasurable amounts of trauma, narrowly avoided death, but in the solace of this quiet shower they can take care of one another, put back the pieces that have threatened to fall apart. it's such a beautiful little moment and done with so much gentle care. i really wish i could've put a gif of the whole scene here (but i'll add it to my list of sets to make.)