#disgusting old men

[erikkarlsson]

imagine wanting to take a goal away from william eklund i’d just kill myself instead and actually contribute to society

[sharonisthebettercarter]

Bombastic side-eye to those who simp for creeplander and Bigot Butcher.

lmao! honestly valid<3

i am such a simp for all the strangest, horrible, way too colorful and damaged fucking tool motherfuckers.

lionel luthor~<3 norman osborn~<3 judge claude frollo~<3 bob kelso~<3 gerard argent~<3 and of course~<3 CAN'T forget papa thanos or daddy darkseid~<3<3<3 i'm a sick bastard and i ain't even ashamed. ;)))))))))))))))))))))))))))

[kitwasheree]

a class in history & subtlety

[llondonfog]

OK so Baul and Lilias friendship lives in my mind rent free, so I think that a few days after silver gets sick for the first time and mama and papa zigvolt manage to teach lilia the proper way to care for a sick infant after he comes over to their house tembling with poorly restrained panic, Baul goes over with v little persuasion from his daughter to check up on them.

What he sees is a happy and healthy Silver just quietly smiling up at him from Lilias arms while Lilia is passed out in his rocking chair fevered and red from catching baby's first cold.

Baul immediately assigns himself caretaker duties, doesn't even bother trying to move Silver from Lilias arms and instead just picks them both up to deposit them both in Lilias bed for a proper nap before checking the fridge for tomato soup ingredients.

When he first heard from his daughter that Lilia— Lilia Vanrouge, the once General of the Right, feared commander of the fae armies and scourge of humankind— had adopted a human child and had been caring for it for several months now, Baul had roared with laughter so hard that he split a scale wide open on his cheek.

It was certainly a poor excuse for a joke, the very kind of rumor that the castle fae still bitter over Lilia's persistent existence four hundred years later might spread. The very idea that Lilia, Lilia Vanrouge, would debase himself to care for a human child not of his blood, to stoop so low as to toil over its screeching and wailing demands when he had bathed in the screams of its own kind with a mad vengeance after the tragedy of Lady Meleanor . . . not even four hundred years of honeyed peace was enough to sweeten that wound.

Time, it seemed, had forgotten what was so cruelly emblazoned in the very depths of Baul's mind, in Lilia's own memories, and the nightmares of all those surviving fae who stalked the forests during those blood-soaked nights. Those born in kinder years had never known the horror of human avarice, and even his own daughter had taken up residence with one of their kind despite her father's immense displeasure, simpering, soft-hearted fool that her husband was.

At least, to Baul's proud credit, their lineage rippled strong and true through his grandchildren— and with his daughter due any day under the weight of a third, he's only too certain for another healthy, bouncing, scaled Zigvolt.

So when she had simply stared back at him with crossed arms and an arched brow while he had laughed and laughed and laughed, a sinking kind of horror began to creep into his heart— surely . . . she wasn't serious?

Months— hardly the blink of an eye for faekind, but everything to humans. Months, Lilia had kept a child for several months, and not once had tried to rid himself of it? Not once tried to deposit it upon the stoop of a human village and wipe his hands clean of the responsibility of child-rearing? He had been taking advice from Baul's daughter and her wisp of a husband on how to pacify and coddle it? He had barged into their home, fretful beyond measure with a colicky babe clutched in his arms, and all but demanded them to cure the child?

("Or what?" Baul found himself asking, utterly bewildered and needing to find some kernel of normalcy in the fact that surely Lilia had menaced his daughter's husband some into obeying his whims.

"Or nothing, Father," she said, the taunting ghost of a knowing smile playing about her lips. "In all the years that I've known him, I've never seen him quite so distraught. He stayed by the crib all night, frozen— we had to tell him it was alright to breathe and to hold Silver's hand if he wanted, it was as if he was afraid to hurt him.")

Silver? Lilia, afraid? Holding the hand of some human child?

It simply couldn't be true.

It couldn't be, this had to be some elaborate, poorly executed prank.

He clung to that belief even as his daughter shoved a bundle of medicine, food, and knitted blankets into his arms with the stern instruction to deliver them to Lilia's home (Home! He had never heard the forest cottage to be described in such terms! The place was a hovel, a storage shed for Lilia to dump his treasures before venturing off to the next location, how could it be considered a home?).

He clung to it even as he emerged from the woods to the path that led up to the cottage's door, casting unnerved glances to the strange and new abundance of woodland creatures skulking about the thatched roof and scampering along the thick tree trunk supporting the cottage like a lean-to, soft little animals that would have darted away in fright from Lilia's presence before Baul's own.

He clung to it until he could no more, when he threw open the cottage door with an odd tightness in his chest to see his oldest friend collapsed on a worn and lumpy armchair with a honest-to-goodness human baby snuggled safely within his arms and sucking happily on a stray piece of ruby-stained hair. Beyond them, a soothing glow flickered in the fireplace where a kettle of milk quietly steamed, and the scattered presence of cloth toys littered the living room floor along with (Baul shuddered) well-thumbed pamphlets, their covers illustrated with the cheerful faces of frolicking human children.

What had this child done to Lilia Vanrouge?

[eepy-prince-maxxy]

This suggestion comes from @rychlastrela

And, oh boy, am I glad I got this suggestion, because this is frickin' adorable :3

They are so in love and it's giving me life.

[pisshandkerchief]

the obvious double standard with which we as a society treat amab nonbinary people and trans women who don't fit the level of feminity that they're expected to is actually disgusting.

[ofmermaidstories]

currently considering using my powers (aka an ao3 account) for evil, to write a donny/joe fanfic.

[konoko]

tumblr pls add the option to disable msgs from explicit blogs

[n0g0dshere]

A variety of Trikey kisses! Happy boyfriend day!

[writingpoorly]

Actually, roll it back. Lets all just return to the caves.

[pastelaspirations]

I m a g i n e. Picture it.

You're a gunslinger. Have been for a long time. Your reputation proceeds you. Sometimes, that's a good thing. Other times, it's your worst enemy. People either sing your praises and cheer as you walk down the street, or you are constantly looking over your shoulder for the malevolent gazes watching you from the dark. There's no in between. One day, you find yourself at a bar. A rundown bar within a dusty town that seems presumably empty, but you can feel the hostility oozing from every dark corner like a bad omen. You try to ignore it, settling down and ordering a shot of your favorite whiskey. You tell yourself to keep your cool, to act as unsuspecting as possible... but to keep a hand poised near your gun at all times. The bar's swing doors slam open. You glance over your shoulder, raising an eyebrow from under the brow of your dark hat. There stands a red panda; so small, it seems like a bad joke. She is wearing clothes reminiscent to yours, but they're too big for her. It's like she borrowed an older sibling's clothes and then strolled out into town, intent on playing with the big kids.

You don't move, just silently watch this red panda clomp into the bar, heading directly toward you. You don't have anything to say; although, at this point, you questioned if you could even come up with something to say.

The red panda struggles and climbs up the stool, excessively grunting and taking far longer than was comfortable to achieve the action. Once she was finally done, she turns to you, slapping an arm on the bar and asks with the most strained, unhinged laughter you have ever heard in your 45 years of life,

"So. Mouthwashing, am I right-?"

I'm s o r r y. This is all my long, unhinged way to say "I wrote a Mouthwashing fix-it fic in the span of a day and half and wanted to tell you guys, but in the most cursed way possible"

Why did I write this cursed lil ramble to say something which could have easily been said in one sentence??

I don't know.

I'm just showing you guys my weird, niche ability to write really cursed stuff but with such misleading language, you can be tricked into thinking I'm n o t writing an elaborate shit post.

I am obsessed with Mouthwashing, man. I relate to Curly so much, so I wrote a one shot where he actually got it right-

Fun fact; writing this fic, I discovered something about myself.

I really like sort of pathetic, blond himbo men who make mistakes, but ultimately mean well and have a heart of gold.

First, it was Asgore, my beloved. <3 Now, Curly has joined him. Something is wrong with me.

W A I T, C R A P. I JUST REALIZED. IN STARDEW, THE PERSON I LATCH ONTO THE MOST IS SAM. HE'S NOT A MIDDLE-AGED, SCRUNKLY MAN LIKE ASGORE OR CURLY YET, BUT HE'S LIKE. THE BABY VERSION. GOD, HELP ME, I AM REALIZING TERRIBLE THINGS ABOUT MYSELF-

[trickstarbrave]

found another novel with a fucking dogshit husband

[unforth]

Actually, I really wish Tumblr as a whole was less comfortable using feminizing language for gay men, especially gay East Asian men.

[selfcarecap]

Not Hinge making me question whether I actually like men

[digenerate-trash]

I'm sick of average-looking animated boys being the love interest. I need more Gross characters. I want my murder/love interests to look like they've spent years killing and splattered with blood

i want to be courted and threatened by a genuine threat.

[nellygwyn]

I feel like I'm going insane reading all the terrible information coming out of the currently on-going trial of the alleged murderers of Brianna Ghey, a transgender teenager who was murdered here in the UK several months ago, some of the most bleak shit imaginable, allegations of months and months of attempts to poison Brianna (and then finally resorting to stabbing her multiple times), very explicit transphobia in a lot of the leaked transcripts (including Boy X, the male teenage alleged murderer, writing that he wanted to see if Brianna screamed like a man or a woman) juxtaposed against TERFs and general transphobes rushing like vultures to a rotting carcass to "correct" journalists who are using she/her pronouns for Brianna, turning themselves inside out to try and make excuses for murder (I know a lot of autistic people fyi, and they don't horrifically murder trans people or anyone lol), and making sure to remind everyone that the killing had nothing to do with transphobia (because it was never explictly charged as a hate crime), not at all, the alleged murderers of Brianna were just looking for some rando to kill. Like.....are you all collectively hallucinating a scenario where YOU look like the morally decent people in a situation where you are bending over backwards to diminish the brutal death of a 16 year old? Even if it could be proved 100% that transphobia played no part in Brianna's death, you still look like freaks. Seriously.

If you can even make the horrific murder of a teenager all about you and your foulness, you are very very sick.