#the most pathetic man (derogatory)

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Down To Fish with the boys!

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[wuffgang-ameowdeus-moozart]

Brenner is the type of asshole who thinks that teaching basic life skills is beneath him but at the same time refuses to pass on the educational duty to anyone else.

What I am saying is that fresh out of the lab El has no idea about money or how to hold a conversation, but one time she witnesses Mike and Dustin arguing about the technicalities on whether a dragon is just a dinosaur with wings and starts rattling down a textbook chapter about viruses during the Triassic Epoch or some shit like that

[satorurize]

Lilith, you siren, how could you do this to me?

Obsessive!satosugu x insecure!reader

Warning: 18+, NSFW, Smut, Yandere themes, manipulation, cheating, dubcon (the reader wants it equally but is hesitant at first), dark stuff in general, MDNI. Feminine terms of reference used, reader is AFAB.

a/n: I'm on a roll today lmao

Thinking about obsessive!satosugu, manipulating their insecure!bestfriend reader to be with them. You have a shit relationship? No problem.. they'll allude you into thinking they're all that you could ever want.

You think you're incapable of love? Damn right you are, because they're the only ones are capable of giving you that love, to their shared toy. Their obsession.

Oh and it was so easy to actually make you believe that, in their eyes, you were just so pathetic and they loved you for that. They loved that you hated yourself, it was a piece of cake to drill into your head that your boyfriend hated you, because of the way you are.

Satoru would act like a love sick, smitten puppy while Suguru would be just so much meaner as they are taking their shared joy in fucking up your head while they treat you like the sin you are. Seated in the ivory haired's lap while his lover held down your thighs, face deep into your cunt.

Satoru would coo in your ear with his hazy eyes, nuzzling his face in the periphery of your face, a taut, bruising grip on your wrists. "We'd make you feel like the most special person in the world if you give in you know..? It's not like you are capable to feel that with someone else, it's not everyday you'd be treated this good hm..?" He says those twisted, saccharine words, while Suguru deliciously eats your pussy like a starved man, his teeth scraping occasionally against your reddened, swollen clit, making you mewl and gasp. Your skull rendering afloat from the pleasure you shouldn't enjoy.

A foul, derogatory slap on your pussy from the raven haired made you jolt and become alert, earning a chuckled, mocking hum from Satoru with a consecutive shush. "Take it, sweet girl..you know Suguru wouldn't do that if you just fucking listened." He gritted the end of the sentence, cuffing your jaw after speaking so sweetly.

"You're pampering her too much, my darling, she deserves this and more for not appreciating our love." The man pulled away from your poor cunt with a sly smirk, his chin glistening with your nectar. His foxy eyes looking at you with yearning before pinching your already overstimulated clit, making you cry, giving them the sadistic satisfaction of seeing your pretty eyes turn glassy and red rimmed.

"That's right dumb girl..just give in. You don't need that stupid fucking boyfriend of yours.."

And you couldn't even feel the guilt that you are made to cheat. It was grilled into your head that what they treated you, was better than even an ounce of what you deserved. ♡

[gilverrwrites]

Toy Maintenance

Arkham Knight/Reader, 900 words Ft. Slade Wilson Kinktober entry 13: Interruption Warnings: Extremely dubious consent/non-con | implied/mentions of violence | bondage | gags | exhibitionism, sorta | a darker portrayal of Jason Requested by: Anonymous

“Oh, you poor baby. Does it hurt?” The eerily modulated voice of The Arkham Knight jeers at you from above. You’re not exactly sure what he’s referring to, but the answer is yes. Your very bones ache to their core after hours of use. Your wrists are cut from their metal bindings, knees scuffed from the hard floor. Your jaw stings from having your lips locked around a ring gang for such a long time, and you were beginning to fear he was right; your tight little cunt would never be the same again. Everything hurt.

Even as he teasingly slaps his cock between your slit, what should only sting a little, burns. “I asked you a question.”

To emphasise his impatience, he smacks a gloved hand on your already beaten ass, laughing that infuriating fucking laugh when you cry out in pain.

“Uhhh.” Your sob is distorted by the O-shaped piece of metal lodged between your teeth. “Yuush e hopts.”

“Awh.” He continues to mock as he slowly pushes his length inside your used up walls. The pace is not a kindness, you know he wants to feel every inch of it splitting tender walls. As he presses deeper inside, the cum from his previous exploits leaks out of your gaping hole. The wet sound of it escaping and dripping to the floor is absolutely vulgar. Once he bottoms out, he leans over your arched back, ensuring his tip sits snug against your cervix and getting close to your face. “I don’t care.”

The worst part is that once he starts driving into your raw and worked up pussy, ruthlessly snapping his hips at an animalistic speed; the pain is worth it. Just for that modicum of bittersweet pleasure. Even his foul-mouthed compliments and derogatory insults make your eyes roll back, and so he cracks wise at you all the more.

“God you’re pathetic.” He spits in response to your quiet sobs. He likes this angle because he knows he’s hitting that inner sweet spot that makes you crazy with every thrust. “Look at you, fucking loving it. You don’t know even know who I am. Do you?”

You’re shaking your head, scuffing your own cheek on the concrete floor when the door suddenly swings open and slams closed, a tall figure carrying a thick folder entering in between. The Knight doesn’t let up his unrelenting attack on your cunt, not even as the solider stops beside your rutting bodies, depositing the file on The Knights desk.

Up close you recognise him, specifically the two-done armour, and his singular, jarring eye. Deathstroke.

“When you hired me, I came on as a mercenary, not an errand boy.” He states bitterly. You can’t get a good look at him from your spot on the floor, but he seems to be watching your captor. It occurs to you that most would be attempting to cover their modesty about now, but The Knight isn’t done with you, so you remain still, enjoying the euphoric drag of his cock.

“Ohh, sorry, old man. Am I running you ragged?” The Knight replies, voice raspy from exertion but still acrid. Even more sour than it is with you, which you earnestly hadn’t thought possible.

“Not likely.” The merc deadpans. If you had the energy, you might have jumped when his masked head swiftly tilts to meet your eye.

He considers you for a moment before lifting his boot and lightly placing it on your shoulder. You don’t fight, The Knight has long since fucked that out of you. But for the first time since you’d been brought here, you wonder how you must look. Bruised and broken, face planted in a puddle of your own drool. How small and worthless you must seem.

With his foot, Deathstroke shakes your form, only briefly, grunting when you don’t respond and turning back to The Arkham Knight.

“You should take better care of your toys.” He says, chiding him like a father would a child. The Knight doesn’t take too kindly to his tone.

“Fuck off old timer, don’t tell me how to run my shit.” You howl in a twisted mix of relief and anguish as The Knight pulls out of you to get in Deathstroke face. “I got her just how I want her.”

“Is that right?” The older man snickers, his one eye falling back to you, it takes you a moment to register that his proceeding question is directed at you. “Far be it from us to have an opinion, huh girl?”

If or how you should respond is redundant, before you can muster any sound The Knight jams his finger in Deathstroke’s chest. “Do I pay you to have opinions? No, I pay you to do a fucking job. N- “

He cuts himself off mid-sentence, also looking over at you before the two masked men turn to face each other in tandem.

“Oh, I get it. You’re sniffing around because you want a piece.” Deathstroke scoffs in reply but doesn’t deny the accusation. Resolutely unbothered by The Knight’s impeachment of personal space.

Like a carrot on a stick, The Arkham Knight reaches down to you, grabbing you by the scruff of your neck and hauling you upright so that Deathstroke can get a better look at your naked body, cuts and bruises and all.

“Well get me some goddamn results, an’ I might let you take a turn.” You’re not sure how you feel about that, but you doubt your position on the matter will be considered. “But until then get the fuck outta my face.”

You will achieve great things, even though small steps.

Kinktober Masterlist

[talk-danmei-to-me]

Why Joo Jaekyung is a sad, sad boy with a more tragic backstory than Kim Dan:

Probably…

Joo Jaekyung fascinates me and I actually think Mingwa has given a lot of hints to some major sad boy backstory moments that I am now going to spend way too much time going into!

Enjoy:

1) Joo Jaekyung grew up dirt poor

Joo Jaekyung now has money to burn, but there’s something about his reaction to Kim Dan’s home that I find fascinating. Now within the realms of fiction I would say rich people going into the homes of the very poor typically act as though it’s a novelty. So they’re intrigued like ‘woah, so small’. Joo Jaekyung acts as though he’s been personally offended by the state of Kim Dan’s home and instantly whisks him back to his very expensive apartment.

Yes he blames it on Kim Dan being a sad pathetic wet kitten, but I think there’s definitely a lot more to it than that.

Joo Jaekyung’s peculiar relationship with money raises its head again with his reactions to Birthdays.

The man completely loses his shit over a celebration for him and is consistently derogatory about the gifts he receives from people he doesn’t know. But what about gifts from people he does know?

I personally think Mingwa draws Joo Jaekyung as an animated type of person. He consistently has reactions to things before he responds and the responses don’t always match his initial reaction.

The gift from Kim Dan is a great example of this because the initial reaction drawn on his face is bafflement. I honestly think Kim Dan is the first person who has gotten Joo Jaekyung a gift for who he is rather than what he represents. Joo Jaekyung gets a ridiculous amount of gifts as a celebrity, but from an individual that knows him I think the key ring is the first time. He literally doesn’t know what to do with it and so he goes into attack mode and completely tears Kim Dan down rather than accept a gift.

Why? Because Joo Jaekyung is triggered by acts of affection. He literally cannot handle them.

2) Joo Jaekyung was starved of affection when he was younger.

In a way, Joo Jaekyung and Kim Dan actually compliment each other really well, one is completely emotionally stunted whilst the other wears their heart on their sleeve. Throughout the manhwa we get a ton of insight into Kim Dan’s feelings, about his Grandma, about Joo Jaekyung and about sex.

Joo Jaekyung literally gives nothing away. Except when it’s written all over his face.

Literally any time Kim Dan initiates any kind of affection with him, Joo Jaekyung is presented as shocked, confused, baffled.

In fact his issues with intimacy kind of spark off the whole plot. Kim Dan being dirt broke and entering into a financial agreement to have sex with him works perfectly, because it’s a transaction. Surely Kim Dan will hate him for all he puts him through?

Apart from the fact this man is constantly doling out acts of service.

3) Joo Jaekyung has a love language and is basically screaming at Kim Dan.

Technically some of Joo Jaekyung’s acts of service (moving Kim Dan into his home, paying his debts, paying his grandmothers medical fees) fall into financial coercion. But the majority have no benefit to Joo Jaekyung at all.

- Giving Kim Dan Medicine for his wounds. (This one has no benefit to Joo Jaekyung at all. It’s just a nice thing to do)

- Visiting Kim Dan’s grandma (He didn’t have to spend so much time with her. He could’ve just paid up the bills to increase Kim Dan’s debt but he was there long enough for her to become his second biggest fan (after Potato) and enjoy a drink from the fridge.

- Beating up the mob that threatened Kim Dan. (again, could’ve just paid the debt but decided to be extra about it)

- Giving him the jacket (this one is actually really funny to me because it comes from a place of jealousy. Kim Dan was offered so many jackets my boy had to pelt him in the face with his own).

4) Joo Jaekyung’s responses to his own affection have been warped.

Jealousy motivates him to the most extreme behaviours. Kim Dan bonding with the other gym members - can of coke over the head. The whole power play with Heesung as well when Heesung got a bit suspicious there was an affection there.

It’s not affection, it’s ownership. Except it’s only ownership because Joo Jaekyung says it is because if it was ownership he wouldn’t need to do so many acts of service.

In Bj Alex Mingwa used the whole trope of I hate love and affection because I got burned after being close to someone and I wouldn’t be surprised at all if this is the case with Joo Jaekyung.

In fact, I’d argue that Joo Jaekyung having a hang up over a past relationship is the root of his dislike of Heesung, since Heesung is canonically portrayed as someone with wandering affections.

5) Joo Jaekyung only believes he has value when he is winning and consistently abuses his body because his self worth is non-existent.

Joo Jaekyung is consistently portrayed as being vile to everyone around him, but what I think is interesting is that he is equally vile to himself. Maybe even more so since his abuse of himself extends to the physical.

Throughout Kim Dan makes it clear to the reader that Joo Jaekyung overtrains. He also tortures his body on several occasions, particularly when they go to America, getting to weight and then using his damaged shoulder to win.

I cringed when his foot was getting stomped on in his last fight.

But the reason he does all these things is because losing is not an option. His entire self worth is built upon being a champion, which makes it temporary. Now it’s gone, he has no self worth hence the complete spiral he is on in season 2.

At this point, I wouldn’t be surprised if after the chasing and botched attempts at grovelling (he’s so emotionally stunted and repressed he’s never going to be able to grovel conventionally) are complete, the end goal for Joo Jaekyung will be to find self worth and acceptance of affection within his relationship with Kim Dan. Basically he needs to see himself the way Kim Dan does.

Basically the reason I think Joo Jaekyung overtakes Kim Dan’s sad boy role is:

Kim Dan is a man who got himself into a lot of debt, suffered a traumatic event at work and didn’t have the most financially wealthy upbringings, but he did grow up loved and knowing he was loved. He doesn’t fight for self worth although he is lonely.

Joo Jaekyung has never had those kinds of relationships until Kim Dan. Though he has no idea how to handle them. I really do think Mingwa is telling Joo Jaekyung’s backstory through action and behaviour at this point and I think he is more than worthy of sitting at the saddest boys in bl table.

[witchofthemidlands]

they're frenemies, they're strays, they're forced found family bound together, in the most dysfunctional manner, this is going to end horribly.

sembene is not being paid enough to be dealing with this chicanery, the bisexual american who's just fucked dorian gray is probably a werewolf, vanessa needs love, care, a hug, a sweet kiss (preferably from me because not to be lesbian but oh my god) & probably exorcism, victor frankenstein is a pathetic wet cat (affectionate & derogatory at the same time i love this man) doing his thing & no one in the core team knows. mina murray's dad is a hypocritical hoe. they're torturing this years uk eurovision entry.

[wheelsup-sevenup]

whumpuary 2025: day 7!

prompt: unfair fight / insomnia / “no one is coming.”

characters: natasha romanoff (marvel)

warnings: kidnapping, sleep deprivation, violence, (implied) abandonment, referenced human experimentation

Based on the regularity in which they changed the guard, and the snatches of daylight she caught when they opened the door, Natasha estimated that she’d been locked in this makeshift cell, the back room of what she assumed to be an abandoned office building, for around thirty-six hours.

If she was right, that wasn’t good.

She’d been expecting backup within the first six hours. When it didn’t come, she hadn’t worried. 

Clint had promised her that SHIELD didn’t leave their people behind. And for some reason, she’d believed him.

The first twelve hours were a breeze, if not slightly confusing. The men here didn’t seem to want anything from her; they seemed to enter her cell only to ensure that she didn’t leave. Only when she spoke to them, spit insults or derogatory questions, did they strike her, and even then she could tell they were holding back.

The twelve hours after that were worse.

Her ankle had been broken when she was captured, and she was reasonably sure it hadn’t set right. It throbbed consistently, sending low, dull spikes of pain through her entire leg. Swelling pushed against the duct tape that bound each of her limbs to the chair, and her chest ached from the cable wrapped around it. 

After thirty-six hours, Natasha didn’t know what to think.

She was having a little trouble with that, actually. No food for thirty-six hours. She’d refused the water, used every trick in her book to prevent herself from falling asleep. Now, her mind was hazy with pain and fatigue. The only thing she could reliably keep in her mind was that she wanted out, as soon as possible. 

She could do it herself, SHIELD be damned.

Natasha had yet to hear the guard in her cell speak. They had, for the most part, ignored each other, Natasha perfectly happy to be miserable without his input. He didn’t raise an eyebrow when she shifted in the chair, straining at the duct tape at her wrists. She slumped down again, making it seem like the maneuver had been unsuccessful, but in reality, she was hopeful. Thirty-six hours of sweating and constant pressure had loosened the tape considerably, and she was sure it wouldn’t take much to pull her hands out completely. It was the same with the tape at her legs, though twisting her broken ankle out of the bindings would hurt like a bitch.

She needed a distraction.

She needed to get out of here.

It was the only thought she could hold on to.

It was almost an hour of slow progress later that the door creaked open. The man in the cell with her looked up at the figure silhouetted in the doorway with surprise, then left quickly without a word.

Fantastic.

This man had a confidence to him that the others didn’t. The way he carried himself, the way the others deferred to him, made Natasha assume the man was their leader.

The door remained open at his back. Natasha blinked in the sudden flood of daylight as the man pulled up the only other chair in the room and sat facing her.

“Do you know me, Natalia?”

The voice was… vaguely familiar. He spoke with a distinctive French accent, clearly a second language yet one that lingered in his voice all the same. She knew him, but in the haze of her mind, Natasha couldn’t tell where she knew him from.

“It doesn’t matter. I know you.”

Natasha raised an eyebrow at him, waiting for him to get on with it.

“You made a mistake when you defected to SHIELD. They don’t care for you, you know. That much is clear by now.”

“They’re not the KGB,” Natasha retorted. “And neither are you. For a pathetically small weapons dealer, you sure make a lot of noise. It’s embarrassing.”

The insult bounced harmlessly off the man’s cool exterior. If any part of it was true, he didn’t let it show.

“Poor Natalia. No one has really cared for you at all, have they?”

Natasha rolled her eyes, feigning a confidence she wasn’t sure even existed. “When they come for me, you’ll see how much they care. You’ll feel it. Like a shot to the gut.”

Under the cover of her own brash words, she popped her thumb joint out of place. The wave of agony that swept up her arm was grounding, and nothing compared to the relief as one hand slipped free.

The man was talking again, but Natasha wasn’t listening, quietly realigning her thumb bone and easily unfastening the cord that tied her torso to the chair’s backing. With her free hand, she held the cord there.

“…but you’ll see. Poor girl. No one is coming,” he’s saying. “You’re all ours.”

Now she just needed her other hand. She was almost there, when something he was saying caught her attention. 

“…the serum will make you stronger than you’ve ever been.”

Her head snapped up against her will. No one had said anything about a serum.

She didn’t have to consider it, though, because she was free. The door was even still open.

Natasha waited until the man, pacing the room back and forth, was in front of her to surge forward, spinning and slamming the chair into him. The chair shattered, her legs ripping free of the duct tape. Though pain exploded in her leg, she felt a surge of strength as she doubled her legs up beneath her, using her uninjured foot and arm to propel herself from the ground towards the man. He turned around as she flew at him, aiming a solid knee directly to his chest.

Except.

The rush of sensation Natasha expected — the impact of her knee breaking his ribs, the flexing of his ribcage and the crumpling of his body as he hit the floor with a shout of pain — never came.

Somehow, the man absorbed the impact with barely a wince, Natasha stumbling backwards onto her already broken ankle. It buckled underneath her, and she stumbled backwards with an involuntary yelp of pain, collapsing towards the cement floor.

In the moments before she hit the concrete Natasha realized what her sleep-deprived brain had missed. The implants, bulging under the sleeve of his shirt. The yellowed whites of his eyes, the veins that protruded from the backs of his hands, tinted vaguely orange.

As she crumpled against the concrete, the information she’d missed came to her in a sickening rush. This organization was too easy to find, too seemingly simple for SHIELD to focus so much manpower on. They never would have expended so much effort on a sole arms manufacturer.

She remembered his name.

Michael Hopworth. British arms dealer turned French experimental-chemical-weapons junkie. The KGB had dealt with him more than once. Natasha had even met him, listened to him talk about defying even the achievements of Captain America or the Red Guardian.

Cybernetic implants. Enhanced strength. It all fit.

The next kick, delivered to her right shoulder, showed her the true strength the man had been holding back. Her body jerked backwards, the pain of splintering bones rushing through her body immediately. Her arm was useless, and she curled in on herself, the waves of pain setting every nerve ablaze.

Hopworth knelt next to her shaking, panting form, extricating her undamaged arm despite her weak protests. He pulled a syringe from his back pocket, and despite the fear that stabbed through her at the thought of being drugged, helpless, some part of her welcomed the relief that whatever was in the syringe would provide.

“You were probably wondering why we waited so long to do this,” he shrugged, waving the needle back and forth. “See, the serum works best when your immune system isn’t strong enough to fight it off. We planned for around twenty-four hours, but,” he laughed, “no one was rushing us. So we took our time.”

The needle entered the crook of her elbow none too gently. Natasha squeezed her eyes shut, willing this to be over.

“We aren’t giving you up just yet,” he promised, his words beginning to blur around the edges. “You’ll have a place in our organization yet, Natalia.”

tbc :)

also, i lied. this’ll be a three-parter. on the next episode, hopefully clint can find us some answers!

comments on this one in particular would be appreciated, because it looks like i’m gonna be having a stressful night and i’d love a distraction 😎

[garbagechocolate]

"doesn't fit tragic doomed yaoi twink" ?? 🤨 This is funny coming from someone like you who is very vocal about your hate for LAES, and even subtly celebrated when their channel got deleted.

And why did you feel the need to use "yaoi" in a derogatory way? If you don't know anything about a Japanese queer term, better not use it, as the queer community in Japan reclaimed that.

I cannot lie I have no idea what ur talking about when you say I celebrated their channel being deleted cause I just scrolled through like 5+ months worth of posts and I just. Didn't find anything

And whatever I may feel for laes, I certainly don't hate it. I just can't get into it because I can't keep up with like. What 3 channels now? And the plot of it is hit or miss for me.

Also I'm korean, a very Japanese influenced Korean at that. I very much know the context of yaoi. (Historical context wise, it literally means porn with no plot.) Modernly, it's used to describe a mlm relationship. Fits certain tropes most of the times. It's not all that serious. I'll even go ask Kouwelm or Sammy if you're concerned.

That post was meant to comfort Kat and you're using it as an excuse to attack me? Isn't that kind of pathetic?

Also tumblr has a habit of erasing lesbians. If you want more info just glance at the alien stage fandom.

Statements are not multiple choice. They are multiple answer. I can have an opinion and another one that differs from it at the same time.

It's kinda funny you went "Don't use yaoi as a derogatory term" when many LGBT people don't like twink being used that way either.

You've either gotta be Japanese or a misaligned sjw for that man. Props to you for good intentions tho

Also is this u vro

[aria-greenhoodie]

I’ve talked a lot about Abigale Blackwing and how I characterize her, but not so much about the other Anti-Cipherites… Let’s fix that!

Thurburt Mudget Waxstaff III - a clumsy and extremely passionate journalist and wannabe salesman (Couldn’t sell jack for shit without help from a certain demonic triangle, forever cursed to have only the worst possible ideas for how to pitch a sale). Can be EXTREMELY petty and spiteful, especially when he feels he or his friends have been wronged. Very pathetic, this man is a mess. Also extremely silly, one of the silliest men you will ever meet. The only reason he’s made it this far in life is because his whimsical nature makes his incompetence more endearing rather than annoying… that and his dad is rich. Has a… distant relationship with his father. Was always more of a mama’s boy, but his dad still finances his lifestyle while he tries (and fails) to keep a proper steady job. Only child (derogatory). Incredibly homosexual, never understood other men’s interest in women, was always enraptured by the men in his life. Tries to repress most of these emotions, due to societal pressures and legal restrictions on homosexual acts, but rest assured if he was alive today he’d be whoring it up with damn near any man he could find. Born to be a slightly problematic nepo baby in a giant gay polycule with drama and toxicity levels you could never even dream of, forced to be a failed journalist/salesman in the late 1800s, early 1900s plagued by triangles.

THINGS I ASSOCIATE WITH HIM - hydrangea flowers, rats and mice, snowy weather, jazzy piano music, the color light blue

Horace Broadshoulder - quiet and surprisingly soft spoken. Often used his sheer size as an intimidation tactic against those who have wronged his loved ones. Will not hesitate to punch a motherfucker for the people he cares about. The tough-guy persona easily melts away writhing a few minutes of talking to him, though. He’s a big sweetheart, very considerate and in-tune with his and other’s emotions. A lot of his tough-guy persona was created in response to growing up dealing with intense racism as a mixed race man in the Victorian and Edwardian eras, built in order to protect himself. His biggest dream is starting a family and raising the next generation to be smarter, stronger, and of above all else, kinder and more understandable than the current one. Has a bit of a temper towards strangers, but most of his friends and family have never seen him mad. The ones that have knew he was just trying to protect them (even if they think sending a man to the hospital over one rude comment about Horace’s sister is a bit extreme). Speaking of, Horace grew up with three sisters, one older and two younger. Loves his sisters to death, would give them the moon if he could. Really values family. Jessamine reminds him a lot of one of his younger sisters, gets along very well with her! He and his sisters were raised basically alone by his mother, funded by their wealthy father in secret. His father, as a white man of considerable influence, couldn’t risk being seen having relations with a black woman in a time of anti-race-mixing, so he rarely was in his children’s or his lover’s lives. Horace’s poor mother was head over heels for his father, but his father saw her more as a burden then anything else. Horace hates his father, low key, but would never tell his mother that. Horace is also bisexual, but wasn’t really aware of that till he met a certain pathetic journalist… cough cough…

THINGS I ASSOCIATE WITH HIM - chrysanthemum flowers, the smell of oak wood and freshly baked bread, the color peach

Jessamine Delilah Gulch - takes no shit, very no-nonsense. Raised in poverty and made a name for herself via the traveling western sideshow she joined as a teenager for extra cash. Has much more than “a bit” of a temper. Used to be known as “Trigger-Jolly Jessie” in her small home town due to her habit of “accidentally” shooting people in the leg or hip when they did something that pissed her off. It’s a wonder she never got apprehended for that, actually. Was taught to use a gun at a very young age by her uncle, who raised her along with her aunt. Her father was a drunk and her mother was institutionalized just one year after Jessamine’s birth for “hysteria.” Her uncle (her mother’s brother) and aunt took her in to protect her from her father’s drunkenness, even though they didn’t have a lot of money to spare to raise a child that wasn’t technically their’s. Has a massive respect for her uncle and aunt, but couldn’t stay with them for longer than what was absolutely necessary due to her not wanting to burden them. Always dreamed of becoming a famous singer and actress, but settled for being a sideshow’s sharpshooter in order to make ends meet. Many describe her as “severe” or “frigid,” but she absolutely melts around those she trusts, especially her dearest Abigale. Abbey loves her far more passionately and sweetly than any man could, she’s sure of that! Absolutely a lesbian, probably also on the grey-romantic spectrum too. No one has ever nor could ever catch her heart like Abigale has. She also has a puppy! Her name is Rosie, she was a mutt Jessamine found in her time on the road, and decided to take in. She’s a feisty little thing, but such a sweetheart!

THINGS I ASSOCIATE WITH HER - royston turquoise stone, daffodil flowers, hunting dogs, sherif stars, revolver pistols (specifically the U.S. Cavalry 1873 Henry Nettleton Revolver), the color grass green

Father Tinsley O’Pimm - a drunkard and a former man of the faith with no faith left in him. His family was middle-class and severely religious and suspected him of being gay at a young age, so they sorta forced him into training to be and eventually becoming a priest in order to “fix” him, or at the very least prevent him from doing gay shit. Never knew what he wanted to do when he grew up, so he sorta allowed his parents to set his life up for him without much complaint, even though he really didn’t like being a priest. Is now incredibly bitter and jaded about life in general, and no longer speaks to his family. Took up drinking in secret to ease the agony of living a life that was never truly his, but was eventually found out and excommunicated from the church. Clings desperately to his former-priest status, not because he truly believes in God nor because he liked being a priest, but rather just because he doesn’t know what else he would have been if not that. This man is going through it. Arguably the most sane of the Anti-Cipherites, when he’s sober anyway. Also the oldest, and often feels like he has to wrangle the rest of the society in at times. Extremely starved for love and affection. Discovers a love of gossip while talking to Abigale, as well as his love of men through two particular men in the society… guess his parents were right about one thing. Would never dare act on these emotions under normal circumstances, and starts actually sobering up a bit in order to prevent any “slips” from himself under the influence.

THINGS I ASSOCIATE WITH HIM - pomegranates, candles, golden jewelry, ruby stones, pigeons, the color red

Abigale Blackwing - eccentric, loud, and infectiously passionate. Born to a wealthy couple, her mother died tragically in childbirth, leaving her architect father to raise her alone. She was his world, and he did anything and everything to set her up for the most happy and fulfilling life possible. Crossdressed for much of her adolescence in order to sneak into prestigious engineering schools that did not accept women, backed up by documents her father forged for her. Completely fell in love with machines, wanted to dedicate her entire life to making mechanical marvels the likes of which no one has ever seen before! Youngest of the Anti-Cipherites, and also the most enthusiastic. Besides machinery and mechanics, Abigale also has an interest in fashion, as well as a love of gossip. God, she loves to gossip. She’ll talk your ear off for hours about some juicy new scoop she found out about that day, and when she’s done, she’ll talk your OTHER ear off about her newest invention and how it works. No sense of self-preservation, she’s blown herself up and set herself on fire for the sake of her inventions more times than she can count. It’s a wonder she’s even still alive. No regard for the law, she is ruled by her own wants and that’s it. Very touchy, especially for a woman in the Edwardian era. Always holding or grabbing or patting the shoulder of her friends. Also prone to playfully punching or swatting her pals while joking around, unfortunately also prone to forgetting her strength and accidentally hurting them (“Oh dear, I’m so sorry Thurburt, I hadn’t meant to hit you so hard!” “Oh no no no, that’s quite alright Abigale! You’ve got quite the arm there, haha! Ha… ow…”). Knew from a very young age that she had no interest in men, and a LOT of interest in women. Tried to court a few young women in her crossdressing days, but always felt terribly about having to lie to them about her true identity. When she met Jessamine, she fell completely head-over-heels crazy in love with her after only a few days. Obsessed with that woman, would litterally blot out the sun for her if she asked.

THINGS I ASSOCIATE WITH HER - allium flowers, gears and mechanisms, birds (specifically corvids like crows, ravens, and magpies), the moon, comets, the color purple

[geeneelee]

Pre-Martinaise Harry Du Bois essentially sounds like a cop version of House MD (derogatory)

-Really messed up man with substance abuse issues, self destructive tendencies, and relationship angst

-Says casually bigoted stuff

-Unhealthy relationship with his hand picked subordinates that keep leaving and resent him

-Workaholic

-Worryingly “unconventional” (illegal and shocking) methods

-Nightmarishly codependent homoerotic bestie

-And able to get away with all of the above by being far and away the best person at his job

(House MD is not the only example of this trope, but it’s the one I know that’s most 1:1)

And then says “wouldn’t that person be a loathsome horrifying pathetic sickly husk of a person after nearly two decades of this shit?” And is probably right

[bluecollarmcandtf]

The Coach's Demotion

Everyone knew Murphy was the college's greatest coach. After arriving a decade ago, he whipped the team into phenomenal shape and pushed them all the way to victory. Under his management, the school developed a ruthless reputation on the court.

However, all men have their faults, and Coach Murphy was as unpleasant as he was effective. Embittered from a failed athletic career, he rarely spoke without raising his voice. Locker room chats always ended with thrown chairs and insults to his player's masculinity.

He attacked every conversation like an argument, but the last straw came after a night of practice. The boys had been held later to run sprints, Coach Murphy barking every derogatory term in the book at them.

After the players showered and left, the coach lingered. He believed he was the last one in the gym, but the waterboy was still there, collecting the discarded sweat rags and bottles.

He jumped when the kid rounded the corner, tossing practice jerseys into the hamper. Coach Murphy leapt up and shoved the waterboy towards the exit.

"Don't you know the time? Get the hell out of here!" Murphy roared with a red face, adding several insults.

The waterboy cowered at first. He was used to the coach berating the help when the team wasn't around, but he was fed up with it, and he knew exactly how to teach this guy a lesson.

"You shouldn't act the way you do."

The coach rolled his eyes and grabbed a fistful of the boy's collar. He was about to drag him out the door when the kid caught him off guard.

The waterboy pulled a necklace out of his shirt: a long chain with a glowing blue gem swinging at the bottom.

"What the..." the coach's grip loosened.

"Coach, you need to relax."

"I need to relax?" Murphy spat back, but his anger was already dissipating.

"You should let go of me."

"Yeah, I'll let go of you," he tried to maintain dominance, but it was getting hard to think, and even harder to look away from the stone.

"Step back big guy. Let me get a good look at you."

"Ok," Coach Murphy took two lumbering steps backwards.

Normally, the man would never stand here for this kid, getting oggled like a piece of meat. But the big coach wasn't feeling like himself. That glowing pendant made his brain feel slow and his limbs heavy.

"Let me see that body you're always hiding," the waterboy's voice rose, "Get in your underwear now."

Murphy's hands felt so heavy, but they began peeling off the university polo as if guided by strings. His eyes drooped and jaw hung as his body worked, dropping his athletic wear to the floor to reveal a beer belly growing over his dense frame.

The coach winced when the kid gave his round gut a smack.

"Look at that thing! Your glory days sure are behind you, aren't they?"

"Yeah," the coach agreed without thinking.

"Go ahead and kneel."

Murphy dropped to the floor instantly. The glowing gem had completely emptied the thoughts from his head, leaving only feelings of inferiority and submission.

"Yeah, that's a better spot for you," the waterboy petted Murphy's hair, "You need a demotion."

"I need a demotion," Murphy repeated numbly.

"You'll resign tomorrow. Make sure to tell them how pathetic and old you are."

"I'll resign tomorrow..."

"And I think I can find a position that's a much better fit for someone like you...

...several weeks later. Fans streamed out of the gym to celebrate. The game had been a close one, giving one of the most exciting matches of the season.

Ever since Coach Murphy suddenly packed up and vanished from the school, the team's competitive edge had waned, but the school spirit had increased tenfold.

Part of that was due to the new mascot.

That guy in the wolf costume didn't rest one second of the game, constantly hyping the crowd up, cheering with the cheerleaders, and dancing on the sidelines. The guy didn't take a break once.

In the now empty gym, the waterboy lingered behind. It was his responsibility to collect all the trash and mop up the sweaty court, but he wasn't. Instead he casually lounged on the bench.

Eventually the school's new mascot rounded the corner, exhausted from all the children pestering him for pictures.

"You gonna take care of all this?" the waterboy gestured to the colossal mess throughout the gym.

The former coach pulled the giant wolf head off, finally breathing in air that wasn't humid and ripe with body odor.

"Yeah, I got it," he grumbled between heavy breaths.

Murphy now understood he was not a good fit for a coaching job. That position was far above what he deserved, and he knew there were better men to coach the team.

Grabbing the long dust mop, he began the trivial labor of pushing it across the court. He didn't bother taking off the mascot costume. It would just waste time, and he didn't mind the discomfort.

All the previous people who wore the suit whined and quit. Murphy knew it had a lack of ventilation and he was aware of how uncomfortably heavy the entire thing was, but he was willing to put up with it.

That was what people like him were there for, and he was proud to suck it up and suffer through the work so no one else has to.

The waterboy had explained to him best: some idiot had to do it. He might as well be the idiot, right?

[sovaghoul]

Hello, for the (non) anonymous ask thing: I am interested in the most random headcanons you have for each Papa.

Nobody's ever asked me this!

Tbh I don't think abt Primo or Secondo very much, but I always want their voices deeper and more gravely. More old man sounding. Primo's is kind of weak whereas Secondo's can still be booming and commanding, the zaddy that he is.

There are hcs out there that Copia is a pathetic baby meowmeow, but I think that's Nihil, especially with Seestor. Malewife and Wifeguy (derogatory). Kinda stupid actually. Maybe not so random.

Terzo acted like a total whore but in reality he was deeply emotional and devoted to Omega. Monogamy in the extreme, a clear boundary between his flirtations on stage and his private relationship. Maybe not that random either I guess.

Copia is aroace, but turns to Aether (pack breeding stud) to educate him in all things sensual and sexual, to improve his stage performance, presence, and persona. So he's had plenty of sex, but it's unironically for science.

I don't think I know how to hc things lightly lol

Thank you for the ask! 🖤

[bisexualmcqueen]

Ok listen, I know you literally just posted about McQueen's parents, but I am already so obsessed with them and would love to know more about them!! 💙

ok so this has been sitting in my askbox since JULY (CRAZY??) and ive been thinking about it ever since. thank you for bearing with me<3 quite frankly i needed to reacquaint myself a bit longer with cars/my cars ocs after a 4 year long break!! lightning is about 43 now in 2024, which means i have 4 decades of his story to mentally keep track of (simply the flavor of autism i have). i bounce all over like a laserbeam in a hall of mirrors.

alright. oliver and donna time. blanket warning for varied implied child abuse/neglect. [background info this ask is referencing!!] ***

the very basic core of these characters is looking at lightning mcqueen and wondering how the hell he wound up all fucked up the way he did. hes got all the issues (he thinks hes sooo normal but there are so many things going on that arent right). so i invented a couple of fucked up guys to fuck him up (mildly to moderate) in his formative years.

oliver is the main culprit here. oliver mcqueen. yes- one of the core aspects of this character is "Two Of Them". what if there was Another mcqueen. imagine a second mcqueen man (dear god). he had a dad somewhere along the line. and what a guy, oh i'm sadly a bit obsessed with oliver. hes like if lightning mcqueen was Worse. hes a boomer from the boston metro area and he thinks he's cool as shit like bernie madoff doing investing fraud, trying to get rich. he thinks hes the wolf of wall street of texas. his head is completely up his own ass and hes a mean little idiot worm. hes supposed to be raising monty but all hes taught him is 'every man for himself' and how to close the door quietly. that and other things.

they live in the dallas metro area together from about 1988-1999. oli does not want to raise this kid, so he sort of just throws food and tires at him occasionally. monty spends a lot of time outside, raising hell (where'd you learn to fly like that, city boy?). typical racecar behaviors. (his teachers find him impossible to deal with often as well).

not to say that oliver is some irredeemable evil freak- hes funny, hes charming, hes a bit of a badass, hes sort of a hot pathetic mess in a funny way. he does pass on some decent traits to his son, gives him good advice occasionally. he's crazy, but he works in an office, so most of his schemes are social and criminal. i recently made an AU where he's a racer, so hoping to post more about that as i develop. (a successful oliver is much more frightening than one distracted by failure!)

this has oliver and monty vibes, oddly enough:

don't be fooled- oliver could never hold a candle to the heart of logan wolverine. oliver is a republican and he hates women (he loves women /derogatory). oliver sucks enough that lightning straightup considers doc to be his actual dad. next! ***

ah, donna. origin of abandonment issues, ring ring!

she's less developed than oliver because she exits stage left pretty early on in the story, but we still love her (or hate her, up to interpretation!) i actually recently gave her a full name even: Donna Ann SteelDust. yep, steeldust as in the mythical foundational sire of the American Quarter Horse breed. partly because texas, partly because i love horses, and partly because in the 1950's there lived a pair of quarter horses who were father and son named Doc and Lightning. and they were racing quarter horses to boot! oh, and partly because the mother of lightning mcqueen deservedly needs a badass name.

donna has monty at about age 20, with a godless charmer from faraway boston, out of wedlock, in a small community somewhere towards western texas in the early 80's. oliver is fresh out of uni and a couple years older. donna is a waitress at the local eatery. girl, your taste in men is abysmal. you can NOT fix him. traveler meet-cute gone wrong...

hes miserable enough of a partner that he is ultimately what drives donna to leave. gone in the wind one day when monty is about six. she met someone new. someone who she thinks is kinder.

she puts the tv to RSN every sunday. she likes watching races- radio when theres no tv. when monty becomes obsessed, she gets him a little strip weathers figurine when shes out of town one day that he manages to hold onto til his teen years. they sit in front of the tv and watch together, and have popcorn made on the stovetop. when lightning recalls his mother, this is the first place his mind goes.

she didnt want a kid (as in unplanned). she didnt consciously try to be a good parent (neither did oliver). but she was sweet. well, sometimes, when she wasnt being a hot mess and stirring up drama.

originally, i was going to have her die before lightning became famous. oliver was going to also be dead by now (2024). but ive got some new ideas- oliver is in prison, donna is in denial about her famous son and festering with guilt. she does not reach out to him. (latter idea from Non).

to boil them down further: donna believes in love, oliver believes in money. they go about it the wrong way. they make mistakes. (part of lightning's obsession with money is in unconscious spite of his father- he wants to prove a point, that he was doing it all wrong, he can do better, he can Win ['i'll show him!']. consciously, lightning's money worries are about his own longevity. there is no lightning mcqueen parts factory: hes some sort of rare 1 of 1 anomaly. unconsciously again: death [mortality, time lost, being forgotten] frightens him. out loud, he says wrecking does. he does not connect any of these dots fully.)

a looottt of this is in flux, these characters still need significant development. but its a story about loneliness, about escaping the cycle, about finding your wings. this is not lightning's family, this isnt where he lands. he doesnt have christmas at ma's. you cant go home again- there's no one there for you and there never was. cps doesnt save you. you find yourself.

mostly this all comes from my fascination with lightning's mysterious origin. and frustration with it. what do you mean the only in-film lore we get is "i've been dreaming about it my whole life!" and "glen elen- my first win!". all his convoluted emotional shielding (for a minute there). he jumps at loud sounds and thinks someone is shooting at him. his natural jackass behavior even after he is 'reformed.' his clearly ignored mental health concerns. he drives me insane forreal. lightning mcqueen i will dissect you and put your parts spread out on a clean workbench you bitch. i will label and graph you in 4D space. im putting you in the bee centrifuge.

gonna cap this off with a recent sketch of donna. turns out corvettes are IMPOSSIBLE to draw, send help. more info about this timeperiod/my ocs are filed under the "origin fic era" and "my ocs" tags on this blog (mostly barren at this time though. will add more.). excited to refine these characters even more as time goes on!

thank you again for the ask!

[aspoonfuloffiction]

The funniest casting choice Lockwood and Co made was Jack Bandeira as Quill Kipps.

Someone looked at the short ginger man who according to Lucy has the most irritating voice in existence—the truest human embodiment of the ‘this might as well happen’ meme said listen what if he was really fucking hot…BUT just as pitiful?

Show!Quill looks like he should be all suave and cheekbones and yet he’s an absolute disaster. Jack Bandeira is so hot it is frankly unrealistic that he’s that bad at asking a girl out and yet perfectly realistic at the same time…because of course he is this is Quill Kipps.

They both yassified Quill Kipps and yet still maintained the pathetic (affectionate and derogatory) essence of the character…it’s a marvel truly

[cresent971]

When i see this picture of michael jackson and people disrespecting this innocent man i get severe enraged and infuriated already people should've left this man alone he's been through enough crap in his life it's bad enough that people still disrespect this man like he's a horrible person or something I'm not happy at all I'm extremely upset and disappointed and heartbroken and infuriated I love Michael jackson and lot but i am sick and tired of people treat like him as if he's harmed anyone in his life leave this man alone he's been through enough crap in his life of people are this wicked and cruel they deserve to be in hell with Satan himself Michael Jackson did not deserve this nightmare at all this makes me angry and annoyed and aggravated and other emotions that i can't express or say how i feel in general if people are gonna continue doing this to Michael Jackson they need to be in hell immediately this type of behavior is uncalled for he did not deserve to be mistreated or anything like that if people are this vile and Digusting they deserve proper punishments for their actions this madness is not funny anymore I don't know what this innocent man has done but he didn't deserve to be ridiculed at all I am tired of people disrespecting Michael Jackson and saying derogatory names at him people need to shut their mouths and stop saying awful things about him I will not sit there and let someone say such horrible things about a man who hasn't done anything to anyone or hurt anyone i may not know Michael Jackson at all but i definitely know he wouldn't hurt or harm anyone in general that poor man deserves an apology for all of the mistreatment he's gotten until the day he passed away in 2009 if people cannot give him that apology then they deserve the most brutal punishments imaginable there is no way that I'm gonna let someone disrespect Michael Jackson anymore if this is the type of stuff that these idiots do they deserve to be in hell with Satan himself i am tired of this madness this is pathetic and ridiculous and saying I'm a petty prick who takes the money out of ruining an innocent man's life because they thought he was a vile person that's all bs and lies i don't believe that crap for a second if people are this evil and Digusting they deserve their punishments nobody is going to put up with their snarky behavior of theirs that is one way of disrespecting yourself and watching yourself get flamed on the internet don't be an idiot and start doing dumb things like that these things will get your butt in hot water and get called out as well and this will actually destroy your digital footprint don't be doing idiotic stuff and except for something to happen you do stuff like that disrespect Michael Jackson or his family or his fans you're digital footprint is cooked you can scratch that off you're digital footprint is beyond fried there is no way of undoing of what you did you do that nonsense you cannot be able to undo the damage once that's out there on the internet you can kiss your lucky stars goodbye don't be a moron and do dumb things that could get your sorry butt in a load of trouble

[banes-favourite]

I would love more thoughts on Gortash having gender identity issues if you have them 👀

Gimme a deep dive 5 page essay /j

anon i am kissing u on the lips passionately for this ask btw 🙏

(tw for sexu@l and minor abuse)

ok so i think gortash is cis male and he didn't really question his identity as a kid, unless he was assigned like female roles in the games he played with other kids cause they thought he was a bit weird. he didn't mind them, mostly cause he had his own mommy issues and it was oddly healing to play as a mother figure (fic recommendation that gave me this idea in the first place).

in the house of hope, he was looked down upon in many ways, being called names was one of them. obviously there were the typical insults and "boy" in a derogatory way but i think since the whole point of being jailed was to be beaten down into an empty slate for Raphael to use and manipulate, it was also important to strip him of his identity as a whole. Nubaldin was probably great at that, providing equal amounts of both physical and emotional abuse, so i imagine there were points were he was punished for using his own name/pronouns. like, being asked what he is, enver giving a derogatory answer hoping it's the right one and nubaldin punching him anyway because "I used 'he' instead of 'it' for your pathetic ass, you should have corrected me"

once he hit the prepubescent age, they probably started having fun with calling him a girl (coupled with the sexu@l abuse he probably experienced), literally gaslighting him saying he was always a girl, he had no name, are you really that stupid? etc etc. obviously this confused him as it's difficult to keep a straight idea of your self-identity when you're concussed every other day. one minute he was less than dirt, the next he was a rat, then an idiot girl who can't even remember her own name, to the point he was so worn down he just accepted whatever they threw at him. If Raphael wanted him to be a boy, so be it, if he wanted a man, so be it, if he wanted a girl, so be fucking it.

he probably struggled a Lot with puberty too,, it came late to him, malnourished as he was, so the fact that he didn't even have body hair despite his body growing aided the gender misidentity. i think he'd often stare at the mirror, at his body and face, try to understand who he was behind the scars, losing control of himself and his mind. he didn't see himself as human, he was just a thing that was sold and then used and reshaped in whoever's hands he ended up like clay. he'd often ask Hope about it, try to understand how he was viewed by someone who wasn't malicious, and she'd answer as honestly and hopefully as she could but let's be honest, her riddles and tangents most likely just confused him further.

not to mention his twisted attractions?? like through all that, he had to somehow figure out what he was attracted to?? i think a healthy mix of sexu@l trauma and stockholm syndrome ended up contributing to his toxic view on relationships and sex as a whole. there's a reason Durge was the only one he was able to form a genuine relationship with.

anyway, all of it definitely ties in with his name change, too. not only did he struggle with rejoining society after HoH, he had to figure out himself all over again. i think he created the persona of a young, powerful and ambitious man named Enver Gortash and leaned into it so much it simply consumed him. he literally gaslit himself into curing his gender questioning like the girlboss he is.

also if you call him by she/her pronouns he'd most likely answer out of pure instinct