#decrepit old twink

[mosspapi]

How do I always end up drawing myself as either a decrepit old man or the most twinkish femboy known to man. There is no in between.

Worst part is both always look pretty accurate.

[obikin-obsessor]

I want more force ghost obikin smut. Old decrepit old man Obi-Wan who needs ghost viagra just to get it up and prime twink era Anakin who’s even more into him and utterly insatiable.

[morgz-mortuary]

We don't give enough credit and appreciation to John H Watson in Moriarty the Patriot.

He literally gaslight an entire nation into thinking that the twink of a man that was William James Moriarty, was in fact, an old decrepit man.

[otterlycurly]

When your immortal whimsical magical pocket furlet manlet gnome-esque professor who also happens to be the dean of the academy AND head of the council of steampunk magicpunk art deco South Appartheidrica watches you his beautiful Eastern Western European Czech Hunter sickly puppy twink assistant visibly rot away in what should look like three business days for him but he just tells you “sometimes, like that it be” instead of doing his best to help you like how one would care any other being who lives a shorter lifespan than their somehow non-decrepit 300+ year old ass so you turn to your chaotic evil/ neutral at best semisentient magic rubrics oujia fidget toy which in turn temporarily transforms you into a gold medal Olympic diva unexpetedly dusts your precious unrequited kitty kouhai and permanently dooms your yaoi with your Filipilatino situationship cosmic style.

[sovietsquiddo]

funger fans will see a skinny decrepit twink with the hairline of a 60 year old eat a centipede straight out of the dirt and go 'god I cant not fuck him'

[themuskrater]

MORTHOS

Your PCs are sexy twinks and beautiful ladies, mine's decrepit old man who lives in the woods. We are not the same.

Morthos is a tiefling mage, the spawn of a Devil Lord of the same name. Because of his father's infamous reputation, Morthos was exiled from his home and settled down in a shack in the forest outside the city walls. Eventually, as the years passed, Morthos' existence became an urban legend to the locals. His presence is used to scare the kids into staying out of the woods at night. But if you do get lost, you may be lucky enough to encounter a pale tiefling offering you a cup of tea, a pipe to smoke, and somewhere warm to sleep until sunrise. Unlike his father, Morthos has no desire to conquer or destroy. He's spent his life doing small acts of kindness to counter the misery his father's caused.

[dominikadecember]

Started off for a pretty toxic blonde dude and came out obsessed with a decrepit old man that is a twink in the eyes of a 500+ vamp 😉

[egipci]

Freako sick thoughts? 🤔 BROKE; Homophobic John caused Dean's repressed bisexuality. WOKE; Homophobic John calling Dean the F-slur while balls deep in his boy's 🍑. BESPOKE; Dean catching his Homophobic Dad choking on rando's 🍆 in a dark alleyway.

Happy Friday my friend <3 thanks for calling in!

(I’m endlessly fascinated by your woke option — I haven’t seen the f-word used in a sexy context in fic before, but it should be! I think it would break Dean’s mind a little to hear his dad call him that as like, a semi-approving term of endearment, for obvious reasons. (Especially in my most favorite version of them — beefy twunk Dean and lanky decrepit old man <3). But it can also be devastating and humiliating and vicious, or all that AND sexy— as always the possibilities are endless.

Now as you may know any dick-sucking John activity is reserved for twunk fresh-vet John in my heart (and what better candidate for the dick than Dean himself?). But there is also a really interesting main timeline scenario in which Dean catches his homophobic Dad getting his dick sucked by a barely legal twink who looks plausibly like him— heartbreaking if John won’t consummate with him! But also what if Dean doesn’t fully realize/articulate his feelings until after, when he understands Dad might seek out a man at all? (This brings to mind whatever cal/nate jacobs have going on actually). Or, what if they already got a sort-of-established thing going, and still John seeks a dude out? I tend to think that John is not really into men (he’s into *Dean*) but even if we push all attempts to suppress that desire for the sonwife aside, paying a little twink feels less shitty than paying a vulnerable young lady, I imagine.)

[stinkrascal]

i REALLY wanted vlad to use that skin i put on askeladd like i wanted it to work so bad. but it simply makes him look TOO old which i know is controversial bc everyone on simblr cannot agree if hes a mid 20s twink or a decrepit 100 yr old wrinkly ballsack of a man. but alas. i cant use the pretty skin:(

[antiquepearlss]

CW: implied kidnapping, implied child murder, local alchemy twink is not having a good time

The rickety door creaked open, the hinges sounding pained as they moved for possibly the first time in decades. The room itself hadn’t fared much better, dust covering old furniture and wallpaper peeling off the walls, the wood splintering and the window pane cracked. The room was old and decrepit, like the rest of the house, like the rest of the ghost town. But it was the current hiding spot for the Separatists. It was the only place Coronans wouldn’t go snooping around in. 

It had been Varian’s idea. He remembered being a child and playing around in the abandoned mansion, exploring the large rooms and vast hallways, the musky smell of old wood and memories lingering in the dust coated air. No one but him had set foot in the building for years. It was the perfect hiding place. He quickly pushed away the memory of his father gently scolding him for running off and playing in an unstable building in an unoccupied town. 

The memory of his father made guilt boil in his stomach. 

“You’re doing this for him.” Varian quickly told himself, before shoving the thought out of his mind.

The door opened to reveal the aged room, with a singular window allowing moonlight to shine through. The soft lighting revealed his daughter, unpacking her few possessions from a worn old bag.

“Getting comfortable?” He asked softly. The preteen looked up at him and smiled “yep! I really like this room, the bed is super comfortable and I like looking out at the woods.” she gestured to the window, which gave the perfect view of the gnarled trees lining a truly creepy forest.

Varian smiled, at least one of them was happy. All he heard from the others were complaints about the structure and comfort of the house. But his daughter was something else. She was adaptable. The young girl could happily sleep outside on the ground (and unfortunately she had to, many times), so a decrepit bed was a luxury to her. Not to mention her odd fascination with all things abandoned and morbid.

She seemed a little too excited at the dried blood coating one of the walls. 

He hoped that was just a personal quirk of hers, and not a result of her upbringing. He would never forgive himself if that were a result of her upbringing.

“Well my room is just down the hall. If you need me, I’ll keep my door open.” 

Eliza smiled softly at him, and assured him she would be fine on her own. But he knew her, she was just as clingy as he was. They were all eachother had sometimes. So instead of being a normal kid and insisting they were too old to sleep in their dads room, she responded with “okay, thanks daddy!”

Varian moved closer to her, moonlight bathing her in an almost ethereal glow, making her feel almost inhuman. Her big blue eyes shone, the flecks of green almost hidden. Her dark black hair shone under the light. She looked so much like him. With those trusting eyes and soft smile with just the slightest hint of buck teeth poking through. 

She was his everything, his pride and joy. His beacon of moonlight in vast darkness. She was the celestial being that guided him through scary forests. She was the reason he took a breath every morning. 

Eliza must have noticed the shift in mood, as Varian’s face fell. She could read him like a book. Her doe eyes looked up at him, concerned. “Dad? Is everything alright?”

Varian swallowed the lump in his throat, and mustered a smile “yeah, pumpkin, everything’s alright. Just-“

Another lump appeared, he swallowed that down too.

“Just anxious about tomorrow, it’s a big day.”

His daughter let out a humorless laugh, seeming almost as anxious as he did. Maybe not obviously, but he was her father, he could read her. 

“Yeah, it’s going to be a lot.”

She sat down in the bed, dust kicking up at the movement. Varian sat down with her, and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. Her face fell, but she looked at him again, with an intense stare. Innocent eyes burning into his soul. “Do we have to do it? I don’t- I don’t want anyone to get hurt.”

His hand tightened in her shoulder, and he looked away from the painfully innocent child before him. So full of love for the world, filled with a desire to learn and to help others. So much like him. Before that love was brutally beaten out of him. Forced out of him for the sake of those he truly and deeply loved.

He had tried so hard to gently beat it out of her too, to prevent the inevitable heartache that would come with the day she had prepared her whole life for. The others had tried to tell her, Andrew had tried to tell her, Varian had tried so hard to tell her.

Coronans deserved to die.

He had to tell her. To convince her. Because if he didn’t, she would die.

That was the deal he had made with Andrew the second Eliza was born into the world. Well, the addendum to the deal he made with Andrew.

The day he was ripped from his home, he was told that if he assisted in the destruction of Corona, his family would be spared. When Eliza was born, he was allowed to keep her as his family, so long as she was raised under Saporian Separation doctrine. Eliza was his family. So if he allowed Corona to burn, she would be kept alive.

He never dared let himself dwell on what would happen if he let his moral compass get in the way, sparing the life of thousands over the life of a few.

“It has to be this way, Betsey. You know that.”

His daughter, his lovely daughter, argued. Because of course she did. She was his daughter. “They can’t all be bad! I’ve never been to Corona but there’s gotta be some good in there! There’s good in everyone! They can’t all deserve to die, dad!” 

“Liz-“

The young girl grabbed his hand and looked at him pleadingly, full of years of wisdom yet so painfully naive to the horrors of her situation, of her entire life. “Does an entire kingdom really need to die?”

Varian felt tears well in his eyes, his throat burning with emotion. Questions he long since repressed surfacing at full force. A question no child should be asking, a question he suddenly hated himself for ignoring. 

He was sacrificing an entire kingdom to save his family. 

Rapunzel loved Corona, she would never forgive him.

His father loved Corona, he would never forgive him.

Eugene, Lance, Kiera, and Catalina loved Corona, they would never forgive him.

Eliza loved the world, she would never forgive herself.

Guilt no one in his family deserved to live with. 

Varian blamed the exhaustion and the stress of the plan coming to fruition tomorrow, mixed with the intense stare of his daughter burning into his soul. She had asked this question before, but never like this. She had never asked with such intensity.

No child should have blood on their hands.

Rapunzel shouldn’t have blood on her hands.

And Varian was so tired of having blood on his hands.

Until now, he successfully repressed the guilt of sacrificing an entire kingdom for his family. But now, he saw his choice for what it really was. Selfish. Pure and evil selfishness.

He was going to kill thousands of innocent men, women, and children, for his family.

Which was typical, he always put his family over Corona. That’s how he got into this mess in the first place.

“Dad?”

Varian’s eyes drifted over to his daughter's hunting knife. Large and silver, with an intricately carved handle and a sharp blade as long as his forearm. It was a rare gift from Andrew, the perfect weapon. It could glide through any surface like cutting through butter. It was the perfect weapon. His father had taught him how to kill an animal so efficiently that it died as instantly and painlessly as possible. And while the lessons made him throw up as a teenager, he taught them to his own daughter. 

His twenties forcibly being spent as a Separatist Of Saporia rid him of his blood phobia, and turned him into a proficient killer. Something he passed into his daughter in the woods.

She had never gotten to meet her grandfather, but at least she could kill a deer like him.

He fixated on the knife, and looked to his daughter. 

His loving daughter, who would follow him to the ends of the earth, who loved and adored him. His innocent daughter, who despite being brought up in a horrific cult, was still so innocent and naive to the truth. His trusting daughter, who obeyed Varian without question and viewed him as her beacon of hope and love, who saw her father as her lifeline. His daughter, who thought everything of Varian. 

His daughter, who didn’t deserve to live with the guilt he was forcing her to live with. The daughter who was too pure for the world she was brought up in.

The daughter, whom he was choosing over thousands of similarly innocent lives.

Her head was tilted, her eyes pleading.

If he grabbed the knife, he could swiftly cut through her jugulars. She wouldn’t even realize what was happening. It would take her five minutes tops to bleed out if he cut deep enough. She would likely be too in shock to feel any pain. Perhaps she would even pass out in a few seconds.

He could hold her, gently cradle and rock her like he always did, let her die in his arms. Let her die peacefully. 

If she was in pain, if she was confused and terrified and heartbroken, at least she’d be in his arms, and he could comfort her. 

He could let her die without facing the guilt she was doomed to face. He could sacrifice her, and spare the lives of thousands of Coronans.

If he killed her with the knife now, he’d be saving her from whatever fate Andrew had in store if Varian defected and chose the right path. If he finally chose Corona over his family.

“Dad?” His daughter’s soft worried voice cut through his thoughts. She looked so small.

Varian sighed, and blinked away the tears gathering in his eyes. He pressed his palm to his daughters cheek and kissed her forehead, she leaned into the affection. He gently shifted his hand to run through the long black locks, still wavy from where they had been released from the braids he had done this morning. 

“Get some sleep.” Varian whispered softly.

Eliza was clearly worried and unsatisfied, but dropped the topic. “Goodnight dad, I love you.”

“Goodnight Elizabeth. You’ll truly never know how much I love you.” 

Varian kissed her head one more time, and made his way to bed.

He didn’t get any sleep that night.

I have so many purely self indulgent fics I wanna post

[megalodonpussy]

Andrew Garfield calling himself middle aged at 38 is such a gay moment for him

[tbhimnoteasyonmyself]

If you watch Star Wars correctly, you'll understand that, in the end, Palpatine was just addicted to being a sugar daddy to men with trauma

[transhitman]

Nadakhan: what is your first wish

Me: I WISH YOU HAD BRITISH TEETH FOREVER. I WISH YOU WERE A DECREPIT OLD TWINK FOREVER. AND I WISH YOU HAD ERECTILE DYSFUNCTION FOREVER.

Nadakhan:

[sasorikigai]

so mister scorpion, apparently that green spectre you met thinks shang tsung is a twink and i think he might snap the sorcerer in half.

Random Inbox Shenanigan || anonymous, mention of @splatterlewis || always accepting! 

▬▬ι═══════ﺤ 🔥 || The spectre finds already indistinctive lines of his past and future blurring and distorting, as he recalls numerous graves marked with stone and a breathing, living person with trembling, old hands and soft exasperated, fond expression who twirled and who danced and used to love. He vaguely remembers the blissful, effulgent life itself - but his heart is no longer beating with fevered flames, but gone silent and cold. A hard stone that has been charred and blackened over, which doesn’t have anything, but a name craved on it. Because of that serpentine, wicked sorcerer, he holds promises that had been lost in the fleeting grasp of his fists. For Shang Tsung is the epitome of cunning and decadence - soul-extracting snake who has committed multitudes of atrocities. 

Everything Hanzo Hasashi has known had been long swallowed in the tumultuous storm of life - the torrential seas of turning time, growing up and the world changing too fast for the seemingly eons of years gone amiss and wasted. “Serving Netherrealm and fighting against the realm of my origin had been dishonorable enough for my heart and soul, but I could never forgive myself for plunging my kunai deep into his throat and having my way with him in scorching hellfire still haunts my conscience,” his distorted, scorched baritone is saturated with remorse and brimming wrath. It is a bitter pill he will constantly swallow, as Scorpion did flush his dreams without ever taking advantage of his unexpected turn of events, as he sought complete freedom. 

As long as the soul-siphoning and devouring sorcerer lived, Scorpion will continue to carousel between self-condemnation and loathing. The volume of his abomination so great and deafening that it begs for him to do something much worse than simply snap him in half. “I would want to watch him suffer in exsanguination, as I will de-spine him from his mortal flesh, then to liberate every consumed soul in order to watch the smug face of his deteriorate and grow decrepit. He will face the rot and decay which he brought the realms, as he will agonize in inexorable pain for eternity.” ▬▬ι═══════ﺤ 🔥 || 

[dl-incorrect-quotes]

Demise: you decrepit old twink!

Oni: you ancient bottom!

[lupuslikethewolf]

King Viserys' decrepit arse organising a wedding where:

his wife (daughter's ex-lover) declares war because of course, that's normal wedding procedure

his daughter kisses her uncle again in front of the entire court after asking him to marry her and steal her away

his daughter is marrying her gay cousin (gay/bi solidarity)

his own cousin, rhaenys, the coolest person in the whole godsdamn realm, has come prepared with spreadsheets and an essay on 'healthy relationship dynamics and polyamory' for when her husband and cousins pull their respective heads out of their arses

he is dying and collapses and is the king

he lets a kingsguard knight beat up some poor twink for saying 'side-piece solidarity'

someone dies though, arguably, it's a westerosi wedding and his name was jeoffry, so he really was double-fucked.

the groom drowns his sorrows in alcohol at the ripe old age of seventeen and the bride hooks up with the hunk who saved her life instead (look. the groom and the new side-piece have an Understanding, okay? this one's better. he's not dornish)