#cw for cartoon nastiness

[an-albino-pinetree]

Some random doodles and an old timey singalong ft. @sm-baby ‘s Carnival!Jax!

[lovebugism]

Hiiieeeeee may I maybe recommend a fic with Stevie and maybe his ditsy/clumsy gf?

And maybe she tries a new recipe and cooks/bakes something different and gives herself a nasty burn and maybe it’s the first time Steve hears her swear and he’s so concerned over her because she’s clearly hurt and crying but she’s more upset about messing up the dish instead of how badly the burn actually is?

hope u like it angel xoxo — steve patches you up after you burn yourself making breakfast for him (hurt/comfort, established relationship, cw for mentions of minor injuries, 1k)

French toast sizzles on a hot pan. You stand in front of the stove, in nothing but a stolen t-shirt and a modest pair of underwear, and watch it cook with your features pinched in a distant concentration. Your Stevie wanted breakfast — “’s the only thing I want in the whole world,” the boy whined dramatically into his pillow — so you were gonna make him breakfast or die trying.

Steve sits quiet at the kitchen table, sipping steaming coffee from a Count Chocula mug, and hissing every time it burns his tongue. He decides to flip through the Sunday newspaper, mostly ‘cause he feels the honeyed domesticity calls for it. He only finds real interest in the cartoon page.

“Alright. Put ‘em up,” Charlie Brown threatens in the first panel, dressed head to toe in cowboy gear. Snoopy’s in the second one, with both of his black ears sitting straight in the air.

Steve chuckles to himself, a sharp exhale through his nose, and opens his mouth to call you over. “Fuck!” he hears you squeak before he can. It makes him laugh for real this time. “Hey. Watch the language, babe,” the boy teases.

“Sorry…” he hears you murmur in response. With your back still facing him, obscuring any view of the hot stove, he figures you must’ve burnt the first batch of toast. 

It wouldn’t be the most surprising thing, anyway. You’re the clumsiest person he’s ever met (more than Robin, which he didn’t think was even possible). You’re not much of a chef either, bustling around the kitchen with a floundering air of confidence.

“Such a naughty word from such a pretty girl,” Steve jokes in an attempt to make you laugh. He hears his sensitive girl sniffle to herself instead, like you’re crying — or about to. His crooked smile ebbs. “Hey… I was just kidding, babe. You can say whatever the hell you want— I don’t care.”

His chair scrapes the tile when he stands. His socked feet pad against the floor on his way to you. “I swear all the time,” Steve says and embraces you from behind. His scruffy chin bobs on your shoulder. “I mean, you’ve heard me— I basically make up new words.”

He scoffs a faint laugh before pressing a kiss to your temple.

You sniffle again. “I messed up,” you murmur, voice wet with unshed tears.

“What do you mean?”

“The french toast. I put too much egg in the mixture, and now everything’s all sticky— It’s gonna be so gross now.”

You ramble mindlessly and gesture with your hands. Steve catches a glimpse of a red and raging welt on the outside of your thumb. The sight of the fresh burn makes his chest twist.

“Holy shit, babe.”

You meet his concerned gape with a doe-eyed look. “What?”

“Your hand— Let me see.”

He takes your fingers in his gentle, softly calloused ones. You shrug off his palpable worry but let him examine your stinging skin nonetheless. “It’s fine. Doesn’t even hurt,” you lie through your teeth. “I barely even felt it.”

Steve’s peers at you beneath his lashes, bushy brows raised until his forehead wrinkles. “It’s gotta hurt, babe,” he insists in a monotone.

“My bruised pride hurts more.”

He grins before he means to. “Come on, weirdo— let’s get a bandaid on you,” the boy chuckles and turns off the burning stove-eye. You gasp when he tugs you out of the kitchen with a gentle hand around your wrist.

“But breakfast!” you whine in protest.

“I’ll drive us to the diner after, alright? I promise,” Steve assures as he leads you down the hallway. “That way neither of us has to die to put some food on the table.”

“Well, that’s just dramatic.”

He shrugs and flips on the bathroom light. “Maybe a little.”

You sit on the edge of the bathroom counter, per Stevie’s instructions, while he fishes for the first aid kit in the cabinets. He fits just perfectly between your thighs, you notice, as he rubs ointment onto your finger with an impossibly gentle touch. You quickly forget about the raised welt on your thumb — too focused on the pretty boy who holds all his love in his hands.

“There you go. Good as new,” Steve smiles once he’s stuck a plaster flush to your skin. He doesn’t notice the small pout scrunching your pretty face until he’s closed the first aid kit. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothin’…” you murmur, gaze averted as you pick at the fraying hem of your oversized tee. “I just… I wanted to do something nice for you, but I messed it all up, and you ended up having to do something nice for me…”

Steve scoffs. “You do nice stuff for me all the time.”

Your frown deepens.

“You tidied up the house when I was working late yesterday,” he tells you. “And you did the dishes even though you hate doing the dishes—”

“Everyone hates doing the dishes,” you insist.

“Exactly!”

“Well, you said death would be easier than doing them, so I thought it’d make it easier on you by doing it while I was off…”

“Exactly,” Steve repeats, settling between your legs once more. He smooths a pair of wide palms over the outsides of your thighs and flashes you another pretty smile. “You make everything easier on me. Even when you don’t mean to.”

You peek at him beneath your lashes, gaze glimmering with something short of hope. “Really?” you wonder in a mousy voice.

“Yeah! All the time!” the boy scoffs without thinking. 

He wraps a pair of golden arms around your shoulders and pulls you in for a smothering hug. Your hands curl into his sweatshirt as you bury your face in his neck — inhaling the sweet scent of sleep and leftover cologne lingering there. 

Steve noses at your hair, still a bit wild from your slumber. “Except for when you accidentally burn yourself and act like it’s not a big deal,” he teases with a smile curling at your temple.

Muffled against his neck, you grumble, “It wasn’t.”

[breathinlove]

sticky fingers ellie williams

read this

synopsis: you and your best friend got popsicles on a hot day, but ellie finishes hers first.

cw: swearing, dialogue heavy at first, homoerotic friendship i fear, hinted themes, dirty minded hoes who act oblivious, a whole lotta mouth and tongue but no nothang but slighhhhhttttlyyy nsfw.

a/n: idk what this is it just came to me as i had a popsicle in the morning lmao... i js missed writing.

you're walking home with one of best friends, ellie, after a day at the park. it was a boring and oppressively hot day. you had bought yourselves ice lollies to help survive the sultry weather.

"is it good?" ellie speaks, pointing to your yellow popsicle.

"yeah, ellie, it's good." you say, matter-of-factly.

"i love pineapple." she looks away from you as you come closer to the crossing, both you looking to the sides of the road in sync.

“i know, me too." you reply shortly, not giving her the time of day, rapidly crossing the street. ellie stays silent, but not for too long.

"well..." she mutters when she catches your trail.

"yes?" you know what she wants but you still play dumb. you're not gonna give it to her.

“just a taste—" she starts whining, and you cut her off.

“nope." that's all you say in response.

you turn the stick horizontally as you get to the middle of the ice lolly, you suck on it and she's snorts heavily. she seems to drag her feet along the sidewalk.

“please, it's so hot out here.” ellie insists on the subject.

"it’s not my fault you fucking gobbled yours." you giggle, flicking her forehead.

she lets out a cartoon-like ‘ouch’ and she pushes your arm.

"bruh, it was small." ellie complains before wiping sweat off her nape, where strands of hair stuck onto.

“doooon't caaaare.” you smirk.

you bite the ice off the stick and she looks like she's mourning its loss. ellie loves pineapple artificial flavoring, despite choosing not to eat too much actual pineapple because when you two ate a bunch of pineapple slices together, you ended up with prickled tongues and mouth ulcers. it wasn't fun.

you can read her expression well enough to let out a chuckle, almost choking on the juice that pools inside your mouth. she clicks her tongue at the sound of slurping coming from you, she focuses on the noise of lawn mowers on your neighborhood instead, but they're just as annoying.

"ellie." you mutter with a heavy breath, she can hear what remains on your tongue moving. she hums in response.

you know ellie's annoyed. you were friends, but you were afraid that you had spoiled her. whenever you denied her anything, she'd catch an attitude. and you liked teasing her. you thought she looked cute when she'd look away from you with a serious face over something so small as a popsicle.

“lukami.” you say, he contorts her face in confusion, and you slurp at the juices to clear your words.

“look at me." you repeat, now coherently, grabbing her cheeks.

“yeah? what do you want?" she looks at you, and you take a disgustingly loud and final slurp.

ellie knows the pineapple stick is gone now, and she didn't even get to taste it. she pictured herself tasting it off your lips, or even your tongue. she wondered if she'd able to feel the refreshment if she sucked on your tongue after all the sucking you did on that popsicle.

“guess what?” you smile, she takes a little too long to answer and you wonder what goes through her mind.

but well, she's nasty, isn't she? she wanted it, no matter if it meant licking around one of her best friend's mouth. she's upset, but she knows it's silly.

“what?” she shrugs.

"i have popsicles at home.” you say excitedly and you look giddy, your sugary fingers still on her face.

“whatever," she looked away, forcing away from your hold. "get those sticky fingers away from me."

"that's a great album, by the way." you ignore her demand, chuckling.

you mess with her cheeks, smearing her with the syrup on your hand. you left a spot on her lips, she licked it. finally, she knows what it tasted like and she yearns for more.

“you're so messy, ya know?" she smiles wide.

you look at your hand as she grabs and holds it where it was, against her lips. you stop on your tracks completely, feeling her tongue stick out of her lips and coming in contact with the pad of your fingers, it tickles. you giggle.

she hums at the sweetness of it and looks up at you from your fingers, what a kid!

"ellie, please, what's wrong with you?" you laugh, and she does too. sugar puts her in a good mood.

“should've just let me taste it.” she speaks.

you would've thought she was done but ellie takes your index finger inside her mouth for shits and giggles, her warm as the day tongue massaging your finger as she sucks on it.

“you're so stupid.” you say, using minimal to no strength to push her face with the hand she entrapped. she smiles around your finger.

you feel the desire to slide your finger further into her mouth to wipe that shit-eating grin of her face. you imagined how ellie would look when she gagged on it, the shock in her eyes would be amusing, you assume. these thoughts run around your mind.

you think she might have an oral fixation by the looks of it,you look around, making sure no one was watching this seemingly obscenity.

"god, ellie.." you sigh in defeat when she flutters her eyes shut. you watch, mind running around her soft features and braking on her pursed lips, tainted red from her late watermelon popsicle.

then she releases your finger, after god knows how long (now that your fingerprint is practically part of her tongue’s muscle memory). you snap back to reality, freshly cut grass smell hitting your nose and unbearable sun hitting your skin.

ellie looks proud of herself.

"it really was good. what flavors you got at home?" she asks and starts walking again. you clean your now spit dirty fingers on your shirt and walk with her, enumerating the flavors of popsicles your dad had bought and stacked in the freezer.

[monstercampus]

Ellie, spare some crumbs about the Headless Horseman pwease 👉👈 is he mean mean or mean 🥺

(cws: dub/noncon)

Oh, he is mean. You'd think a mascot whose likeness has been chibi-fied and cartooned into adorable stickers for the book store to sell would be cute, right? Nice? Friendly?

Nah! The Horseman is mean as hell, and he's fucking nasty. He's old as shit and crotchety too, riding around on his horse like he owns the place and swiping at students who trample on the freshly-demon-horse-mowed lawns. Hundreds of years ago he was a renowned duke, known for both his prowess in battle and his beast-taming skills for miles and miles around. But being beheaded cut that career a bit short, and after his soul wandered aimlessly for decades looking for it, he finally settled on campus grounds and the student body adopted him as their mascot. Since then, he's begrudgingly worked for his "room and board" so to speak as a fixture on the sports field, often trotting around keeping students in line or tending the lawns and the vegetable gardens. He's mostly active at night as a patrol for naughty students breaking curfew or potential intruders, several of which he's caught over the last century and.....helpfully dismantled.

Your best hope is to just avoid him, not gonna lie. He's not giving you special treatment just cause you're a human. In fact, he can be even more brutal than he would be towards a monster student that he's caught outside after dark, because if he catches you.....well, it's been a long time since he felt any warmth, and humans are much more fragile than monsters. If he can't fight you properly and he knows you won't be able to run fast enough for him to give you a scare, then he'll have to resort to other means.

'Other' meaning he'll just have to sit you on his lap and see if he can fit inside. You dumb humans are so easy to rewire--you can be trained to take monster cock, it just takes practice. And when he yanks you up and keeps riding around with you settled there, squirming and blubbering in his lap for anyone to stop by and watch, it won't take very long to get you used to it. If you can somehow make him cum you should count yourself as one of the lucky ones, but a sloppy mess spilling down your legs doesn't mean he's gonna pull out any earlier. You're staying there until he's done, until you've received adept punishment, and only then will his apparition finally disappear as dawn breaks and you're left pitched over in the grass--weak, a little drunk off his musky smell, and totally wet, soaked in your own fluids and his. Good luck running back to your dorm without anyone spotting you on their way to class!

[busket]

gravity falls rant, cw sexual assault and harassment

seeing the gf fandom do a full 180 on billford is so odd to see and kind of infuriating because I had so many nasty rumors and lies spread about me in 2015-2018 because I liked them as bitter exes. a callout google doc was made and I never read it, but I know it framed me as a creep and an abuser. all because I thought a cartoon nerd and a triangle had a fascinating dynamic that was dark and compelling

in 2017 or 2018 someone sent like 70 messages to my curiouscat just repeating RAPIST RAPIST RAPIST RAPIST over and over again. I'd never even had sex at that point, and I had just cut my dad out of my life for actually being a pedophile and a rapist. so that was traumatizing! that really hurt me!

I also know it was because I had a NSFW account where i drew porn (i was an adult, i was clear i only wanted adults following me. and I still do draw nsfw, I'm not ashamed of that now but these folks made me ashamed of it for years) that included some porn of trans men, like Stanley or Stanford as trans men (NEVER together bc I've always been staunchly against incest or pedophilia ships) and these people framed me as a transphobe and a transmasc fetishist

well obviously I'm a trans man now and I didn't know it at the time but those drawings were a way to explore my own relationship with gender. I even look like Stan and Ford now, obviously i latched on to them as trans men because I wanted to BE them. but I believed it when people called me a piece of shit, I assumed all trans people would despise me too and I'd committed a horrible sin and it forced me back in the closet for another 5 years.

the people doing this were teenagers at the time, a few I thought were my friends/mutuals, and they made that part of my life kinda miserable. I was already miserable with other shit going on in my life. I ignored most of the harassment to make myself uninteresting and to avoid the possibility of becoming a lolcow but it involved anonymous messages both on tumblr and curiouscat, I even got a few emails just mocking me. even in 2019 when some people were like "oh yeah she's moved on to moomin, this is what her art looks like now, I can't look at it without thinking about how much she loves rape :/" which was NEVER true!!! I liked Ford and Bill as bitter exes but it was always consensual in my mind.

Anyway I don't ever expect or even want an apology. I'm sure they don't realize what an effect that harassment had on me during literally the darkest years of my life. to them they were just teasing a weird girl on the internet for fun, or very seriously warning their friends against whom they'd been lied to about being an abuser, but I was a closeted trans man trying to finish college, my home life was abysmal and abusive, I hated myself, i hated my body, my only friends were online, and when I'd log on for some escapism I was met with another message like "hey, you should block this person. they're saying some really cruel things about you on their account. I know it's not true but it looks like some people are believing it."

gravity falls was so important to me as a show since oregon is my home and it felt so authentic to my own childhood being interested in cryptids and going camping and visiting shit like the Oregon vortex as a child. but the fandom was the worst I've ever been in. it ruined my enjoyment of media online for years. so idk. I guess I feel somewhat vindicated but it would also be nice to get those years back and not be harassed and bullied online about something so stupid and unimportant

[universallydestinytaco]

*CRACKS KNUCKLES*

Charpim Prompts, Baby! Tag me if using any of these because I’m bored and I love raising hell in this fandom!! Thanks ✨

CW: All prompts on this post skirt the line between genuine prompts and just me shitposting again.

EDIT: Not to be a buzzkill but I almost forgot: Please don't make straight-up NSFW smut of my prompts, I know SF is an adult cartoon but that stuff makes me uncomfortable. Thank You.

Charlie and Pim go to a bar + Pim gets drunk and becomes the life of the party and Charlie pisses off a gang of bikers = all hell breaks loose The boys go rollerblading + it’s before they confessed to each other.

Charlie takes Pim to go camping in the woods and raccoons steal their stuff. Vampire!Charlie x Witch!Pim facing off against monster hunters and protecting each other. (inspired by @bluebellcup)

The boys lightheartedly bicker about which show they wanna watch on Meepflix during date night.

Pim baking Charlie something sweet and Charlie returns the favor by making something for him.

The beautiful bride (Pim) and the skrunkly-ass groom (Charlie)

Pim finds out about what happened to Charlie in the Gwimbly episode and pulls an elaborate prank on James that leads to the nasty bastard getting publicly humiliated much to Charlie’s delight.

Charlie is embarrassed to admit to liking girly stuff and Pim, a bonafide femboy, helps him embrace it as the boys doll each other up for a day.

The boys working for Anonymous to hack Twitter’s rotting remains aka X by having it so that the boring white backgrounds are replaced with crude doodles mocking Elon Musk.

Charlie and Pim as astronauts and they share a ship together for 3 months. They become the first Critters on the moon!!

They’re in a rock band, with Pim as the lead singer and Charlie on the guitar.

Maid!Charlie is Princess!Pim’s lady in waiting and he trains to become a knight to challenge that chauvinist pig Knight!James to a duel to show him who’s who!

They’re robots in a gritty cyberpunk setting reigned by Grim and Gnarly because they’re literal edgelords.

[toaster-is-babey]

CW: mentions of injury/coping with trauma, toxic past relationships (nothing detailed/indepth don't worry ). Mattie is my vent sona and what not.

Also @z-eddsworld hope yore up for a long read man, finally did a semi-decent ref of Mattie :)

Here is my mad lad Matthew. He is a character from an old au i grew extremely attached to. Though i discontinued the au because i couldnt be arsed to finish the story for it. I am repurposing some characters from the au tho :)!

Name: Matthew Raeburns

Nicknames: Mattie(prefers to be called this, will punch you otherwise), Gingie, Doll face, Matts, freckles, spot, bitch, Mattie-Beear(only by his partners)

Age: 29

Sexuality: Homosexual, demiromantic

Gender: Male/questioning

Pronouns: He/it

Height: 5'5/166cm

Body type: usually pudgy, can be drawn a little slim

Hair : red/deep ginger, very fluffy, curly and soft, cowlick is a must

So i repurposed Him into a kinsona/Oc earlier last year.

He does/will have visible scars in future art. But for his half finished doodle ref I'll probably redo in the future lmao.

He belongs in my and my friends @mrhappypills au

No mercy AU

Mattie is the middle child in his family.

He has an older brother named Fredrick aka Freddy/Fred

His younger sister has yet to be named.

Alfred is Matties father, and they loath eachother. Though now that Alfred is older, he is hoping to somehow through a miracle Reconnect with his son again. Though its fairly tough, as both Mattie and Alfred are hot-headed and fight everytime they see eachother. They both refuse family therapy lmao

Jacqueline is Matties deceased mother. More information will be posted as i redesign her and develope her character more ^^

He is Neurodivergent, he has trouble putting thought to pen, or thoughts to speech.

He is sensitive with what fabric he uses, he prefers soft or fluffy clothes, it calms his nerves. He bruises like a Peach, though he is clumsy so you'll see him with an ice pack or simply a glass of wine(or whiskey) .

In Matthews teenage years, He was edgy, as most teenagers are . Though he did get himself into a lot of fights because of boredom Atleast until he met his first love, A norse-american transfer student, and was very infatuated with him. They dated close to 5 years. Their break up was a nasty one, as Mattie had blinded Tjøstolv. They both started to get toxic towards eachother and often fought, often ending with both of them leaving the house for a night or two.

Tjøstolv had paid for a large part of his boyfriends schooling, he loved his boyfriend to bits and loved how cute his partner looked when he was focused on work. though being in the public eye often, he grew stressed, and tired, causing him to start fights. On another note, Tjø himself doesnt mind simple jobs, like doing IT work, it calms him.

Will post art of this wealthy rat man when i can for now take a screenshot eddit

'nother screenshot eddit. Tjø has heterochromia, eyepatch lad next to him is Delta, which belongs to @mrhappypills

Silly fun fact: matties flesh and blood is a vibrant Purple/fuchsia. No real reason on how that happened just thought it was funky and cool (⁠ ⁠´⁠◡⁠‿⁠ゝ⁠◡⁠`⁠)

Heads up, i know nothing really science-y, im taking inspiration from shows i love. As this takes place in a cartoon-y universe, logic definitely wont apply lmao

Mattie was quite the prodigy, and had finished his later years of secondary school, he'd gotten recommendations to some pretty snazzy universities. He studied different modes of transportation, will take apart your car for fun. Though he was dead set on one day to home explore other worlds, it definitely took a long time, but when he had completed his final safety trial, he had somehow ended up in the wild west, in spit-bucket america, seeing a nearly identical man to himself sitting at the bar, he couldnt believe his eyes. An old Timey version of himself and a handsome looking dude being flirty(screenshot eddit by me :) )

Mattie has travelled many worlds,though found himself stuck in one. Not because of technical issues, but a Man. One he's never seen in other worlds. A wealthy business man named William. Though Mattie worked on technology for william, he somehow with his skrunkly charm managed to seduce him. It took William a while to realize Mattie was flirting with him. They're a power couple now though :)

Screenshot eddit of Lucian>Mattie>William

Art of William and Mattie made by my pal orange,

Im so sorry lmao(⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠)

I could definitely go on for hours about Mattie and his life, but I've written enough already (⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠) Anywho I hope y'all have a lovely day and a happy new year(⁠人⁠*⁠´⁠∀⁠｀⁠)⁠｡⁠*ﾟ⁠+

[angorwhosebabyisthis]

hey, y’all. in light of the release date being pushed back again, i just want to remind everyone: please be kind to the team. a production being pushed back repeatedly is almost certainly one that’s intensely stressful behind the scenes, even without fans being angry about it--even without covid, of all things--and if anything i would bet money that they feel much worse about it than any of us do.

the animation industry is punishing. dreamworks has not exactly been supportive of ToA once they realized it wasn’t selling a ton of merch. and despite all that, the team have poured years and years of blood, sweat and tears since long before the show ever aired into giving us a frankly incredible series. even if we never get wizards, we owe them so much gratitude for what they’ve worked their asses off to make for us. they deserve all of our support and understanding. 

 if we have to wait months past release date, if we have to wait years, then so be it; we’re not the ones who are slaving away to finish it despite clearly having a difficult time, and we’re not owed people working themselves bloody, working themselves into breakdowns, working themselves to death--all of which absolutely happen--for our own entertainment. 

please be understanding, y’all. be kind.

[officialcharactersimp]

Mending & Amends

(Graduation Gift Part 4)

Summary: the fourth installment of my graduation gift series (can be found on my masterlist). This picks up literally seconds after the end of pt 3 with Natasha trying to find ways to make amends and get you to trust her again. No smut, but still not appropriate.

A/N: author’s note WC: 3k (holy heck)

CW: dark fic; mommy!nat; there is no porn, I repeat no porn; but there is mommy milk/breastfeeding; reader is injured; dubcon existence; 18+ only, do you hear me??

While you’re out, Natasha has time to tend to your injuries without you cowering and crying. Without all the guilt.

She picks your limp form up gently and brings you back out to the basement proper and lays you face-down on the bed-crib. She goes to get some medical supplies and cleans you up, then bandages the open bits and rubs some healing salve all over you. With only a few strikes having landed on your core, she’s satisfied with rubbing some of the salve there.

She gets you to drink some water from a bottle in your sleep, your natural instincts she’s been nurturing taking over. She checks your temperature, a solid 99, which isn’t too bad. She wipes the sweat and tear-tracks from your face, then brushes your hair out again. She lays down beside you and drapes an arm over your waist, burying her face into the back of your neck as she tries to think of what she’ll do when you wake up.

An idea forms slowly as she runs her hand along your waist. Yes, that will work. You might not like it at first, but it will work if she bears through it. She’s not sure how much of the fear and pain on your face she can handle, but she needs to.

She moves you off the bed to make it up nice, then sets you down gently, face down. Whenever you’re healed up you’ll be able to lay on your back, but right now that’s not possible. She ties your hands and feet to frame corners with plenty of slack—she wants you to be able to move.

Finally, she reluctantly removes your collar, biting her lip as she does so. It looked so precious on you, a symbol of the progress of your relationship. All gone now, thanks to her paranoia and overreaction. As much as she doesn’t want to remove it, it’s not right to keep it on if it speaks a lie.

Then she waits for you to come to. It shouldn’t be much longer now, maybe another half hour or so. She sits in the rocking chair in the corner, anxiously bouncing her leg. She needs to get herself under control before you wake. She knows her little baby needs for her to be the collected, caring, soothing mommy right now, and that you will for some time.

You mumble a little as you begin to stir, picking your head up a little. She takes a deep breath and smiles before going over and crouching down to look at your face while she gently tucks your hair back.

“Hey baby,” she says softly. “How’s my little sleepyhead feeling?” she asks. You whimper and inch away from her.

“D-don’ touch me,” you stammer.

“It’s okay baby, mommy isn’t gonna hurt you,” she says.

She sits down beside you. “I am so so sorry about what I did earlier. I was scared you were gonna try to leave me and get hurt. It’s a nasty drop from that window. But I didn’t take the time to think past my initial reaction or ask you, and that was wrong. I overreacted out of fear and anger without stopping to think, and I’m so sorry, little one. I never should have done that,” she says, tears brimming in her eyes. You turn your head to look up at her, eyes searching hers for any sign of ingenuity. You find only regret and sadness.

“You mean it?” you ask softly.

“Yes baby,” she says. “And mommy promises never to punish you without talking first or before taking some deep breaths, okay?” she says.

“Pinky promise?” you ask.

“Pinky promise,” she sticks out her pinky to hook with yours. She’s thrilled that you’re already starting to be a bit little again. As you move to interlock with her, you notice the restraints.

“Wait, what?” all traces of your headspace are gone as you jerk up to look around at your tied limbs. “What the hell?”

“Baby, it’s to keep you safe. See? They’re not tight or anything,” she tugs on all the loose rope.

“This is insane! All of this is insane!” you shout at her for the first time in weeks. It breaks her heart even more.

“I told you, mommy’s gonna fix what she did. Mommy’s gonna show you you can trust me again, gonna take care of you, of everything. Make it so this collar means something again,” she taps it on the bedside table, just out of your reach. You bury your face in your pillow and sob.

“It’s gonna be okay, baby. Mommy’s here. Mommy’s gonna make it all better,” she curls up beside you and puts an arm over you again. Despite how upset you are, you lean into it, wanting the physical comfort you associate with her.

“How’s your bottom?” she asks.

“Hurts,” you mumble.

“Do you think some Advil might help?” she asks. You nod and she gets up briefly to go get it. “Here you go, baby,” you tilt your head up and she puts the pills in, then grabs your bottle of water. You roll your eyes but suck on it to get the water to wash the pills down. You nod a thank you.

“Are you hungry?” she asks. You nod. “What do you want? I’ll even go drive through somewhere if that will help,” she says. You think for a moment.

“McDonalds?” you ask hopefully. She nods and smooths your hair back.

“McDonalds will be here soon,” she assures you. “Mommy has to go see a friend, too, so it works out. I’ll be back in half an hour or so, okay?” she says. You nod.

She kisses your head, which you recoil from, and leaves. You’re left alone to lay face-down on the crib-bed, restrained and in pain, until she returns. It’s silent. It’s lonely. You’ve grown used to either having Natasha or the sounds of the TV running since you came down here.

You think back to this morning. Everything was so different. You honestly trusted her this morning, even if it wasn’t the strongest trust. But this afternoon reminded you that she was an unstable, dangerous, paranoid lunatic. And it scared you.

Truth be told, you’ve grown to like being “little,” as Natasha calls it, letting yourself stop thinking too much and trust your mommy—Natasha, you correct yourself—to take care of you. You liked playing with her and cuddling. And when she touched you, it felt so good. So much better than when you had touched yourself. You felt loved and cared for in some twisted way.

But that was all in the past, now. You’d been doing so well, both of you, and now this. How does she expect you to trust her again? You’re not sure. You turn your head and close your eyes.

—

“You’re sure this will work, Wan?” Natasha asks her friend anxiously as she pulls her shirt back on. The red glow around her is fading. Her bra feels painfully tight and she winces.

“I’m positive. It worked for me, and especially given that you told me it’s happened before with those meds. If not tonight, by tomorrow for sure. And here’s these,” she hands Natasha a package. “They’ll be much more comfortable.”

“Thanks, Wanda. I don’t know what I’d do without you, in all honesty,” she says. Wanda smiles and hugs her.

“I could say the same to you,” she smiles. “Go on, get back to your little one,” she shoos her playfully. Natasha waves and leaves, then drives by McDonalds as promised. She’s back in a little over half an hour to see you dozing. It warms her heart to see her precious baby sleeping.

“Come on, little one, mommy brought your food,” she says, shaking you gently. You open your eyes and push yourself up off of the bed some. “Let’s get you comfy,” she helps you find a position that isn’t too uncomfortable for your aching rear, then hands you your food. “What do we say?” she asks.

“Thank you,” you say with a french fry in your mouth. She smiles. The mommy will come back later. She won’t push it for tonight.

“Do you wanna watch some cartoons?” she asks. They always engross you and help you into your littlespace. You nod and she flicks through the TV until she finds one she knows you like.

You both eat in relative silence, watching the TV. At least you’re not trying to cower anymore. That’s good, right? Progress? She hopes so.

“I’m gonna use the potty,” she tells you, then gets up. You don’t notice her bring the package with her as does.

When she returns, you notice something different about her, but you can’t tell what. It’s a small difference, then. Maybe she just fixed her hair. She’s smiling though.

You’re finished with your food soon enough, and the show ends shortly after.

“Let’s get you in the bath now baby, hm?” she suggests. You feel gross anyways, so you nod. She unties you and scoops you up in her arms.

“Let me down!” you squirm.

“Hush now, like mommy told you, I’m gonna take care of everything. Gonna show you you can trust me again,” she says. You squirm all the way to the bathroom anyways. She sets you down on the toilet facing the wall, almost straddling it.

“Huh?” you ask.

“It’s less pressure on your little bottom,” she explains. You nod and use the toilet while she gets the tub ready, but when you go to get some toilet paper, Natasha beats you to it. “I’ve got it, baby,” she says, wiping your tender area gently. You wince and try to get away from her.

“Stop it, I’m not a baby!” you try to grab her hand and move it, but she stays still, unmoving.

“Come on, little one. I know you’re in there. I know you want to let mommy take care of you,” she says. You shake your head. “Baby, this is about me proving to you that you can trust me to take care of you,” her voice is even. “I want you to choose to let me prove it to you. That’s why I haven’t given you any of the medicine I used to. But that doesn’t mean I won’t. I’ll do whatever it takes to get you to believe how much I care about you again,” she says.

“But—“ you don’t know what you were planning on saying. “But I wanna do it myself. I can do it myself,” your voice is quiet as you lose your grip on her wrist, barely audible.

“That’s the thing, precious,” she steps closer to you, finishing her task and then using her other hand to pet your head. “I know you can do it. But you don’t have to. That’s why I’m here,” she says. You groan and lean forward on the toilet tank. “Come on, you’ll feel better when you’re clean,” she picks you up and sets you in the tub, then flushes the toilet.

You sigh and let her bathe you. Your body is too sore from getting dragged and caned to wash yourself that effectively anyways. When she gets to your most sensitive areas though, you squirm away from her and reach for the soap.

“It’s too sore. I wanna wash it myself,” you say quietly.

“I’m gonna be so careful, you won’t even notice,” she gently moved your hand away and got the soap again. Tears brimmed in your eyes and your bottom lip started to form a pout. “No, baby, don’t cry,” she gasps, petting your cheek. “Tell mommy what’s going on,” she says.

“I’m scared,” you say. “I don’t want you to touch it because you hurt me,” you say. Her heart breaks again.

“Okay, sweetie, how about this: we can do it together,” she takes your hand and puts it over hers, then begins to wash you gentler than ever. Your breathing hitches and your heart kicks up, but it’s over before it can go into full-blown panic.

“All done. You did such a good job, little one,” she praises you. “Ready to get out, or do you want to play in the water some?” she asks.

“Ready to get out,” you say. She picks you up out of the bath and dries you off with a soft towel before taking you out to the bed. She pulls on a soft shirt, leaving your bottom half uncovered so as not to irritate it. She changes into the spare pjs she keeps down here and crawls into bed beside you. You don’t welcome or recoil from her touch, which she’ll take as progress.

Her chest is still dully aching, but she knows she’s pushed you far enough for tonight. Maybe tomorrow she’ll be able to coax you into it.

—

When day comes again, Natasha is treating you the way she did when she first brought you down here, only with gentleness and tenderness where there was hardness and strictness before. The lack of the sedative drugs in your system makes it more difficult, but she’s able to maneuver your squirming form through the daily ritual of getting up, using the toilet, getting dressed, brushing your hair and teeth, and finally breakfast. Whenever she can, she has you laying on your stomach on the bed, and this is one thing you don’t protest.

You notice her shifting in discomfort the whole morning though, and despite how much you dislike her at the moment, you hate to see her in pain. You work up the courage to ask after a while of watching cartoons.

“Are you hurt?” you ask.

“I… well, I have a side effect from a treatment I had done that’s causing me discomfort,” she admits.

“I’m sorry,” you say. “That sucks.”

“There’s a way you can help me,” she says, sounding more timid than you’ve heard her maybe ever before.

“What is it?” you ask. To your confusion, she started to unbutton her shirt, and then she unclips her bra, but from the top? What?

“Huh?” you blurt out.

“I’m lactating,” she says simply, squeezing her nipple a little, causing a drop of what can only be breast milk to come of it.

“I—what do you want me to do about it?” you ask, dumbfounded.

“They hurt because they’re too full,” she explains. “And it would be really helpful if you would, well… empty them. I don’t have a breast pump, of course,” she says.

“Wait, like, you want me to—to drink your milk?” you’re turning bright red. Even after everything you’ve done with her, you’re almost unbearably embarrassed.

“Yes, baby, it would really help me, plus I think that you’ll like it. And it could help us…feel closer,” she chooses her words carefully, gauging your reaction.

“It’s kinda weirding me out,” you say honestly.

“Just try it, please, baby? It’ll help me feel so much better. And I promise, if you hate it after a little while then I’ll get a pump,” she crosses her fingers behind her back.

“I… okay,” you say. This whole situation is so absurd you can hardly bother trying to resist it. She smiles and adjusts the both of you to where you can reach her breast.

It’s not like you haven’t had her tits in your mouth before. You’re not sure why you’re so nervous right now. Natasha gently puts a hand on the back of your head and pushes you a little closer. You wrap your mouth around her nipple hesitantly, unsure of what to do.

“It’s like your bottle, sweetheart,” she senses your confusion. You tentatively begin sucking, and you’re surprised by the flow of milk into your mouth. You jerk back, but Natasha keeps your head in place, groaning in relief.

When the initial shock wears off, you realize she was right—you do like it. It’s warm and sweet, and the sucking action soothes you. You relax a little.

“That’s a good baby for mommy,” Natasha says gently, stroking your head with her thumb on the hand supporting you. “Do you like mommy’s milkies?” she asks. You nod, slipping into littlespace quickly as you drink from her. “Is it yummy?” she asks out of her own curiosity. You nod, not wanting to stop to answer. She chuckles. “It’s all yours, little one.”

She moves you to her other breast when you’ve finished, looking down and noticing that her other one is indeed smaller, and it certainly feels better now. You clutch at her gently to get a good angle, and her heart swells. She’s so glad this worked, but then again, Wanda’s advice has yet to fail her, so she shouldn’t be surprised.

When you finish, your eyelids are droopy and you nuzzle into her willingly, a rarity even before she fucked everything up. She pets you gently.

“Sleepy, little one?” she asks you softly. You nod. “Want a nap?” she asks. You nod again. Between your body being exhausted already and the soothing effects of her milk, she’s not surprised you’re already tired even though you’ve only been awake for a few hours. “Let mommy check your bottom, okay?” she turns you on your tummy. You’re healing nicely. “Do you want a blankie? I think it won’t hurt,” she says. You nod and she covers you with a blanket.

“Mommy stay,” you say when she gets up. And how is she supposed to argue with that? The answer is, she isn’t, so after she turns the lights off, he curls up next to you and holds you close.

“Mommy’s here, little one,” she assures you, finding your favorite stuffie and handing it to you. “Mommy will always be here, don’t you worry.”

[ivybucky]

cake batter (s) - s.r. x fem!reader (18+)(minors DNI)(repost bc tags hate me)

Summary: Steve's tired of keeping his hands off of you, and he just happens to give in in the middle of the kitchen while you're baking. 18+ Only (smut under the cut)

a/n: AHHHHH it's June 1st babyyyy which means from now on this blog is 18+. I've written one other smut for a marvel character on a different blog that I'll be reposting on here. I've been working on this baby, though for YEARS and i'm so excited to post it. CW: smut, pure filth, food play, choking, spanking, rough sex, unprotected sex, oral sex (male and female), messy sex, semi-public sex, dom/sub themes, hints of exhibitionism, absolute nasty sex jesus

author: abby<3

words: 1895

Steve could smell strawberries and vanilla wafting down the halls of the Avengers compound, dragging him out of his room like a cartoon. Memories of his childhood flooded his mind, making him nostalgic and soft and he wandered towards the kitchen. When he arrived, a smile graced his face.

With 40’s music blaring from her phone, Y/N practically floated around the kitchen humming along. The beige and flower-embroidered apron hung to her hips, outlining her body. Her hair was out of her face, brows scrunched in semi-focus.

He was mesmerized as she moved around to the soft beat of the song. Y/N was known for appreciating the things from the past that had been created out of passion and love. He only hoped that out of all the things from the past that she loved, he would be one of them. Steve watched from the doorway as she beat together the ingredients. She turned to grab some of the strawberries she had cut off the island, when she saw him watching.

“Oh hi Steve,” she smiled brightly at him, grabbing a handful of the red fruit.

“Hi,” he smiled, walking over to her to rest against the counter she was working at. “What are you making? It smells delicious, doll.”

Her face reddened slightly at the nickname he gave her, smiling as she looked up to meet his eyes. “Strawberry ring cake. My grandma’s best friend gave her this recipe and she used to make it every year. It’s been forever since I’ve had it.”

“It smells like something my mom used to make,” he smiled fondly. She dipped a finger into the batter, lifting it up her lips and taking it into her mouth, letting her tongue swirl around it. She moaned quietly at the taste. Steve’s lips fell open, his pants getting a little tighter as her mouth hollowed out, sucking the rest of batter off her finger. Noticing his silence, she smiled up at him before dipping her finger back in again. “Here, try it,” she offered quietly.

Steve’s eyes widened slightly as her batter-covered finger entered his mouth, watching her eyes darken a little. She knew exactly what she was doing. His hand wrapped around hers, holding it in place while he sucked it clean, letting it go with a pop.

“Tastes delicious, doll,” he murmured with a rasp to his voice, making her a little wetter than before. She bit her lip, before clearing her throat and turning back to mix the batter more.

“I think it could use a little bit of lemon juice,” she turned and pressed her feet up to reach over the counter top to reach one of the citruses that was just a bit out of reach. With her stomach pressed against the countertop and her ass in the air, Steve had to readjust his now too-tight pants at the sight. Images of him bending her over and fucking her into oblivion were the only things his mind could comprehend. She turned around to see a wide-eyed expression on his face, his brows furrowing slightly.

“What?”

In two strides, he had his hands on her face, bringing her lips to his forcefully. She whimpered in shock before melting into his body, hands settling on his waist. His tongue swept her bottom lip before letting her tongues meld into each other. The air from her lungs had depleted, causing her to break apart, resting her foreheads on each other.

“I’m sorry,” Steve panted out. “I’ve been wanting to do that for forever. I’ve been wanting you for forever, doll.” She brought her hands up to his cheeks, bringing her eyes to meet his. “Then have me, Steve.”

With that, his lips crashed into hers again, this time hungrier, with a more defined destination. His hands slid down to her waist, fingers brushing against the bare skin as her shirt rose up. Soon they were going up to her back, unclasping the bra she wore. She hummed against him as her hands moved to take his shirt off. Steve quickly threw the cloth somewhere behind him, as she began to untie her apron and take off her shirt and bra. His mouth went for her neck, nursing on the exposed skin with sloppy kisses trailing down to her now exposed nipples.

As he gave attention to her chest, her hands trailed down his abs to the top of his sweatpants. Slipping in his underwear she grabbed his hard cock in her hand, causing him to moan against her nipple and biting slightly, making her gasp.

“Hold on,” he muttered, breaking away from her, making her whine. He turned around grabbing the bowl of cake batter and the spoon. He tugged his sweatpants and underwear down, letting his thick and long cock spring loose. She whimpered at the size.

He dipped the spoon in the batter and drizzled the pink substance just above the base of his cock and on it. “Look at the mess you’ve made,” he sucked his teeth. “Better clean it up.”

With a smirk on her face, she dropped to her knees and placed one hand on the back of his thigh, cupping the curve where it met his ass. Steve took in a sharp breath at the touch. Her other hand grasped his cock again, holding it while she moved to lick the batter right at the base. Trailing her tongue on the underside of his length, she made her way to the tip, gently putting her lips around the head.

Steve’s fingers wove into her hair, tugging slightly, causing her to moan again. “Fuck, Y/N.” he muttered.

Her mouth took as much of him in as possible, letting his dick hit the back of her throat. Steve started moving your head back and forth, setting a steady rhythm. “Good girl, take all of my cock in, suck it good, baby,” he moaned above her

She started just letting Steve have the reigns, just letting him fuck her mouth as much as he wanted. She looked up at his face to see his eyes closed with his head thrown back as his open mouth lowly groaned. His eyebrows were bunched with tension. The sight of his blown expression alone made her trail her fingers down into her pants to swirl around her clit. Her eyes watered as she gagged slightly.

The combined taste of strawberry, vanilla, and Steve was just too much, making Y/N moan around him. He cussed softly, fingers tightening in her hair, pausing her movements. “If I keep fucking your mouth like this, I won’t last much longer,” he panted. She hummed, standing up on her legs, knees shaking a little from the pressure.

Once again, he brought her mouth to his, now tasting sweet and entirely much like him. His hand moved up to cup her breast, thumb smoothing over her taught nipple before trailing back down to the waistband of her yoga shorts. Skimming over her ass first, Steve all but ripped her shorts and panties off, leaving her stark naked in the middle of the kitchen. Mouth not leaving hers, his fingers slowly swept her folds, causing her to moan out.

“Is all this wet ‘cause of me, babydoll?” Steve’s gruff voice huffed into her ear, finally pulling away. Her grip on him tightened.

“Steve please,” she whined, as his finger brushed against her clit. “I need you.”

“Nuh uh, sweetheart,” he clicked his teeth, gently slapping the inside of her thigh. “You need to be patient, I wanna taste you first. And I know you just taste so sweet, honey.”

His rough hands wrapped around her thighs, pulling them apart, opening her wide to his needs. His tongue swept over her entrance, moving side to side across her lips. Her finger wound their way into his sandy hair, tugging as he gave attention to her clit. His lips wrapped around it, sucking gently, drawing a moan from her lips. He pulled back to chuckle against her. “Honey, you have to be quiet or else someone will come check on us.”

“Mmm,” one of her hands gripped the countertop. “I don’t care, Steve - just please don’t stop.”

He continued his previous movements, now focusing all of his mouth’s attention to where she needed it, curling two of his fingers up into her cunt. “Oh fuck, please,” she hummed.

“Please what,” his breath blew against her sensitive skin, fingers not halting their movement.

“I wanna cum, Steve,” she whined, a hand coming up to toy with her nipple. “Please.”

He wrenched his hand further, knuckles halting at the crease of her crotch, his lips sucking harder on the sensitive nub. Her back arched up from the granite of the counter, a wretched moan escaping her as she flooded his palm. Steve moaned against her, lapping up whatever he could.

“C’mere,” she murmured, a heaving breath leaving her chest. He bent over her, his chest pressed against hers, lips tracing over her jugular, trailing up to her lips. Y/N tasted herself on his lips, saliva and the faint taste of strawberries mingling with her juices on his tongue. “Wanna feel you, Steve, please.”

“I bet you do, honey,” he pulled her by her hips, letting her feet rest on the ground shortly, before turning her over. He leaned against her ear, a smile on his lips as he whispered to her. “Now bend over like a good girl.”

She hissed as her nipples pressed against the countertop, palms laying flat beside her. Steve had one hand on her hip, one on his cock as he pressed his head against her entrance. She wiggled against him as best as she could. “You’re just begging for me to fuck you, huh sweetheart?”

She whined, fingers clenching aimlessly against the rock under her. He eased his cock into her slowly, drawing out groans from her mouth until he bottomed out. “Look at you taking all of me, baby,” a strained chuckle left his mouth. “Can I move?’

“Please.”

He chuckled, his grip tightening against the skin of her hips. His own hips began pistoning into her, his thrusting skin slapping against hers. Their attempt to stay quiet had long flown out the window. A mixture of grunts and moans that resembled each other’s names filled the air, the ticking of the oven in the background.

His hand found its way up her bare spine, fingers wrapping around her throat. With force, her back arched, adjusting the angle in which his cock pressed against her walls. “Steve,” she gasped out. “Steve, please, please, please I wanna cum.”

He groaned, his head thrown back. “Oh,” he panted. “Is that what you want, sweet? You wanna cum on my cock?” His hand wrapped around her hip, fingers finding her clit and rubbing steady circles against it, his other hand squeezing her throat. “Cum, baby, cum for me now.”

Her walls pulsated around him, a straggled groan leaving her lips. His hips stuttered, his own grunt falling out as his release flooded her pussy. Even when he had finished, his hips still lazily moved against her, pumping his cum into her with every stroke. He paused and leaned over, his sweaty chest pressed against her back.

“Fuck baby,” he panted into her ear, the curse words continuing to cause flutters in her stomach. “Fuck, I’ve want that for so long.”

His fingers wrapped around the back of her hand, thumb rubbing soft circles against her skin. “Me too, Steve.”

They pulled away from each other, Y/N turning around to press lazy kisses to Steve’s lips. “Now we’ve really made a mess.”

He groaned, picking her up and wrapping her legs around his waist. His legs began to carry them to his room, leaving spilt batter and strawberries over the counter.. “Worry about that later, doll. That cake can wait.”

Tags for this fic: @moonstuffsteve @patzammit @avengers-do-it-better @hamiltonwrite12 @fab-notfat @mcueveryday

Tagging @honeysucklesteve because I crave your approval and you write amazing smut

[comicweek]

Whatever Happened to the Men of Tomorrow?

I just love Tyler Hoechlin on Superman & Lois. His Clark Kent rocks chunky cable-knit cardigans, pivots his Metropolitan family into farming, and pours a nightly glass of white wine for his badass wife. Dad goals aplenty — and when he suits up to catch a falling bridge in China, he waves to a rescued bystander. No big deal, his smile says, all in a day's work. It's a classic version of the most classic superhero, an ageless paternal hunk rendered puny behind glasses and the last tie any print journalist will ever wear.

But the hit CW drama already revealed another possible Man of Steel, a world-destroying alternate Superman introduced in a flashback eye-barbecuing an army. He wears black, just like Henry Cavill's resurrected Kal-El in Zack Snyder's Justice League. And that four-hour HBO Max event ends with a premonition of Superman gone mad, driven murderous by the death of Lois Lane (Amy Adams). These fallen gods have company. Amazon Prime Video's The Boys features Antony Starr as Homelander, an über-American sociopath. He shares a streaming service with Omni-Man (voiced by J.K. Simmons), the greatest defender of Invincible's Earth, who finishes up his series premiere ripping apart his fake Justice League one spinal cord at a time. Let's put a pin in calling the Utopian (Josh Duhamel) nefarious, but the patriarch of Netflix's upcoming Jupiter's Legacy has dark secrets. And his troubled son Brandon (Andrew Horton) wears a red-caped blue costume I would describe as "lawsuit-proof." (The Marvel Cinematic Universe is making its own moves in this direction, with the briefly bad resurrected Vision and a new Captain America covering his shield with fresh blood.)

An optimistic read would classify the Evil Superman glut as countercultural activism: a middle finger to the boomers from Generation Harley Quinn. The classic character offers easy signifiers to deconstruct. He is toxically masculine, supremely white, a whole surveillance state unto himself. Comparisons to certain monster presidents and canceled icons are welcome. "I know you want me to be like you," Homelander's son (Cameron Crovetti) tells the star-spangled pyscho. "But Dad, I'm not." That kid goes on to incinerate Homelander's Nazi girlfriend: Great job, youth! Meanwhile, Invincible's real star is Omni-Man's son, Mark (Steven Yeun), a sincere do-gooder. Their malicious elders stand in for larger societal decay. And even the WarnerMedia-approved Supermen withstand suspicion from paranoid worlds. Cavill's hero spent a whole movie proving to Batman (Ben Affleck) that he wasn't a bad guy; apparently, the next movie would have proved Batman right. Hoechlin's yearning sincerity sticks out like a sore thumb in modern-day Smallville, a depleted land of meth explosions and bank foreclosures. Recent events in our own world offer little hope for a brighter future. Everything has gone wrong with everything. Why should the Man of Tomorrow be any different?

There's a long history of Superman turning bad; there's a long history of Superman doing anything. Way back in 1964, he met Ultraman, a dastardly double from Earth-Three. The '90s brought a Terminator-ish super-doppelgänger, who pretended to be Superman before destroying fake Los Angeles. Hoechlin already played a different black-suited impostor in a 2018 CW crossover. There are multiverse scenarios where he's raised by Soviets, Nazis, or Darkseid. In the 2000s Justice League cartoon, another Superman executes his Lex Luthor, a defensible act that slippery-slopes into dystopic oppression.

Break one rule and you break them all: That's the implicit threat of Evil Superman, and the nasty thrill of Injustice, a videogame-comic saga where Lois Lane's death drives Superman superbad totalitarian. (Clark's son plays Injustice 2 on Superman & Lois.) In the classic 1986 tale "Whatever Happened to the Man of Tomorrow?" written by Alan Moore and drawn by Curt Swan, Kal-El retires from superheroism after taking a villain's life. "Nobody has the right to kill," he says, "Not Mxyzptlk, not you, not Superman... especially not Superman." Look past the outrageous impossibility of saying "Mxyzptlk" out loud, and it's one of the great quotes of comic book history. This Superman believes even a wholly justifiable homicide spoils his moral code. A generation later, that's where these stories begin.

[narrators-journal]

Freebird

CW: predator/prey(?), somnophilia, dubcon.

Warning: here

previous part: here

first part: here

The day after your romp in the bath, Gogol returned again, all smiles and sugar as he brought you your breakfast.        "Good news Golubka! I've got a few days off, so you and I can play a lovely game~" he sang, letting you eat before poofing you out of your cage and into his lap.        "Uh, okay?" you said once settled with your thighs on either side of his, eyeing him suspiciously, your stomach boiling with a combination of lust and dread. Of course, all he did in response to your suspicion, was smile,        "The rules are easy, I will let you go," he tightened his grip on your hips when you tried to bolt for the door, "But, I will also be chasing after you." he finished, "You will get a day's head start, just to make it fair though~" you grimaced at that, not so thrilled to be hunted down by a magical sadist.        "What happens if I get caught?" you asked, eyeing his mischievous grin, knowing damned well this man wasn't going to just put you back into the cage if he 'won',        "Than I get to fuck you~"        "And if I don't get caught?" You asked, and his grin fell into a pout,        "I guess it makes sense you'd want a possible reward," he huffed, thinking for a moment, "If you stay away from me and I don't find you for a week, you can go free. I won't go after you again," he offered, and your (e/c) eyes lit up once more. He grinned at that, this smile much more predatory than before, "So, shall we start, Golubka?" He purred darkly, his voice growing dangerous and...sexy. It sent a shiver down your spine, but when you nodded, he let you go, letting you bounce up from his lap and bolt out of the basement, through the kitchen, and out the backdoor like a cartoon road runner. It was once again dark out when you got outside, but you didn't care, simply relishing the chill of the air and the smell of grass and trees. As you ran, you could see that your captor was living in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by trees and fields, but you could see a road leading through the trees, so you took that and ran for all you were worth. It was slow going, you hadn't been outside in a long while, so your night vision was poor, but you did manage to put some distance between you and the, honestly impressive, house you were held in. Eventually, you ended up back in some sort of town, where you were able to plead your way onto a ride out and even got the reassuring confirmation that you were still in your home country, seemingly only a few towns over from your hometown. You were happy to hitch a few rides through the night, getting within an hours walk of your hometown before your options dwindled, though you were fine with walking in the maybe mid-morning light. Of course, you were exhausted when you finally reached a semi-familiar building, but your adrenaline was boiling and you were too hyper from being outside to think of finding a place to rest. So, instead, you dug out the crumpled twenty your last ride, a kindly old nun group, had given you and found a shop to buy an energy drink and some chips from. You were starving from hours of not daring to touch any food or drink your rides offered, but you needed to reserve as much money as possible to live as off the radar as you could to escape Gogol, so you devoured your chips and chugged your energy drink and went back to walking through the town. Your first thought was to go home, but you shook that thought away when you remembered how you were drugged and kidnapped from your own living room. Instead, when you found this slummy little motel a good distance from your home or usual stomping grounds that was cheap. Since your energy drink high was ending, you didn't complain about the nasty sheets and sticky carpet, you just laid on the bed, planning to rest only for a moment and rely on the last shreds of false energy to help you get up and properly crawl under the covers, but as soon as your body hit the lumpy mattress, you only remember darkness. It wasn't unexpected, you were let go around late evening and had been up until late afternoon on nothing but some energy drinks. Food could wait, your body first demanded sleep. So, you granted it, letting yourself slip into whatever fever dreams your subconscious cooked up. You were in a dinky motel after all, Gogol most likely wouldn't find you so far from your usual habits for a while. You were safe. Your dreams weren't half bad either, full of fantasies of Gogol and plenty of fun. One of the perks of being so tired was that your dreams would sometimes become so vivid you could practically feel Gogol's gloved hands roaming your bare (s/c) skin, squeezing your breasts while he nipped and kissed at your neck, or ground his healthy bulge against your ass. Though, eventually, you did finally wake up. Drowsily taking a moment to remember where  you were, than remember why you were there. Of course, after that, you registered that someone was really nibbling at your neck and dry humping you. You groaned, trying to squirm a bit, but the especially hard bite to your neck made you moan and still. After that, you finally got to see who exactly was littering your throat with bruises, and it shouldn't have surprised you to see Gogol's mismatched eyes glittering with glee,          "Morning Golubka, sleep well?" he hummed, moving so he could hold your wrists above your head with one hand, have the other be free, and stay between your thighs with his very obvious erection pressed against the crotch of your underwear.            "W-what are you doing?" you squeaked, feeling a blush creep into your cheeks as Gogol sat above you without a shirt or his cloak on.             "having some fun," he mumbled, stealing small kisses as he spoke. Finally, he just kept you from saying more by holding a kiss and sweeping you up in a wave of lust that easily overtook you after your dreams and earlier fantasies. So, you kissed back, wrapping your legs around him and feeling him grin against your mouth before his free hand wondered under your shirt to grope at your breast until you moaned and squirmed more. The feeling of his mouth returning to your neck to further abuse your bruising sweet spot sent bolts of pleasure through your bones, especially when coupled with his hand roaming your skin and his bulge brushing against your already sensitive crotch. Because of that, when Gogol pulled your bottoms down and released his twitching erection to tease your slick entrance with the head, you squirmed and mewled like a horny bitch as he grabbed your wrists and held them above your head. Both of you groaned when he pushed into you, filling you up with delicious warmth while tightening his hold on your wrists. Then, once he was as far in as he could go, it was like something snapped in the smiley clown. He was nowhere near gentle, holding your hip in a bruising grip with his free hand and slamming into you mercilessly despite any complaints or pained screams. He spoke in Russian, so you didn't understand anything he said while humping you, but even if you did speak the language, you would've had to translate through a haze of pained pleasure. You were thankful for the times you experimented with rougher, more sadistic sexual acts, because it meant you weren't overtaken by nothing but pain, you were instead hit with a mixture of great pain and equally great pleasure. So, while Gogol was moaning and muttering stuff that you were sure you should be glad you didn't understand, you were a moaning mess of your own, arching your back and curling your toes at the waves of hot ecstasy Gogol was sending through you until a knot in your stomach began to tighten. It took a shamefully short time for you to orgasm, but before the ripples of euphoria had even settled, the clown pulled out and let your wrists go only to roll you over and hike your ass up simply to push back into you and go right back to thrusting at a sadistic pace. You did do your best to stop him, at least get him to slow down, but he ignored your pleading and only pushed your face into the nasty mattress while his other hand kept your hips firmly in place so he could further bruise your (s/c) skin while grunting and moaning out curses. Eventually though, after you had climaxed a second time, Gogol finally stilled, keeping his cock buried in you while he emptied his load into your warmth. Only when he began to feel over-stimulation creep up for himself did he pull out, flopping beside you on the bed with a huff of breath.         "That was fun! We should do it again, Golubka~" he hummed, but you only grunted, passing back out after such a taxing, yet enjoyable romp.

[daily-fantasy-ideas]

CW: Fighting, Threatening death, Comic violence,

Here's a funny way to immediately remove a potentially threatening antagonist and instead create some comic relief in the form of short bad story scene thingy.

Have them standing on some higher ground than the protagonist's group (E.g. A the peak of a mountain, the top of a larger than average hill, the balcony of a castle, the roof of someone's house, the back of a horse) and then have them give a grand speech how futile it is to fight them and how "I'm not even the strongest one so you lot had no chance at all." Then have them begin to cast a spell a really really big one, now they've thrown a few fireballs and stuff at the protagonists before but that was always in combination with a bunch of generic minions and different attacks.

This is very different its apocalyptic looking, the clouds so high in the heavens begin to circle around them twisting and turning. Wind howls thunder claps. Lightning begins to strike, spread and dissipate in the sky as a whirling vortex forms itself around the enemy.

They begin to cackle, eyes glowing, lighting sparking on and across their body, veins and arteries glowing as if they were pumping lava instead of blood. They begin to yell "Hah! if only you fools would have listened, now not only shall you meet your end but all that is around you shall share in your same fate!"

The sky has shifted, first from a pale blue to dark, then to purple, now to a deep crimson. Fire in countless unnatural colours bursts fourth from the dense cluster of clouds above. Once again they yell their words "NOW DIE!"

They explode, not in the nasty way that leaves giblets everywhere but in the way a cartoon would covered in soot. Stood there shaking they look at their hands asking "Wha-" they are cut off as their body is shocked by an absurd amount of magically charged and created electricity to the point where most everyone viewing them could swear to be able to see their skeleton through their armour and flesh.

With a thud they fall and begin rolling off whatever it is they were standing atop before eventually stopping in front of the protagonists. Their still very much alive form then partially ignites with eerie green flame . . . they'll probably be fine? just as long as they don't do magic again.

And with that the group walks off enjoying the now non-apocalyptic sky above them, wondering what they're going to have for breakfast, and what that weirdo's deal was, and who attacks at like 7:45 in the morning.

[vietzuko]

if we used to share a discord server, this post is for you!

hello! i am going to try to do this as anonymously and non-confrontationally as possible. i do not want this to be a spectacle or call out post, but i will say that i am quite disturbed by the way situations have transpired on the server. 

in case you didn’t notice, i left! when i left, i wrote a little goodbye post in #general, which has since been deleted. either the mods deleted my goodbye or they banned me from the server (which automatically would delete my message). in case you didn’t see it, here was my goodbye message:

hi everyone, i’m leaving the server. if you’re a POC who is interested in joining an ATLA server where POC can talk about ATLA and critically discuss race, feel free to PM me for a link! otherwise, this is goodbye. see you all around.

i won’t rehash everything that happened in the events leading to this, nor will i name names in this post. if you were on the server, you probably saw what happened publicly or you can message me personally, either here or on discord. if we know each other through the server and you want some clarity over names/events in this post, please PM me. 

if you are a POC in the ATLA fandom who is concerned by the events of this post and you would like me to clarify which server i’m talking about, please PM me.

i just wanted to share the very long message that i sent to the mods (on their prompting!) because i feel that it shows my perspective on what transpired.  unfortunately, this message did not result in any meaningful change, except for me getting banned/my messages removed from the server. i suppose that’s a type of meaning! haha. 

anyway. here’s the message. cw for racism, yellowface

hi MOD 1 (and presumably the other mods who will read this message)! thanks for reaching out. i’ve had some time to dwell on the situation and discuss it with other people in the server who witnessed it and reached out to me personally. this is going to be an unbelievably long message, so i apologize in advance and thank you for your time in reading it.

i think the first thing i’d like to do is give some context for the incident and to give my perspective on why i said the things i said.

i have PMed a mod about a racist incident in the server exactly once. it was when i first joined, and i saw a picture of a white person in yellowface in the cosplay channel. i didn’t know any of you personally yet (and this was before some of you even joined on as mods). i have since told SERVER MEMBER 1 about this incident and i’m pretty sure they mentioned it to you because i noticed you’ve changed the yellowface rule. but i think that the context of me pinging a mod about a racist incident and then witnessing another (although less egregious) instance of racism by the mods might explain why i am, in general, hesitant about talking to mods about racism on the server. i am just trying to live my life and experience as few micro-aggressions as possible.

i also think the fact that i regularly educate and push back against white people’s racially harmful messages in the server is also important context. i realize none of you likely know this, but about every two weeks i receive an unsolicited PM from a different white person apologizing/asking for forgiveness/asking for reassurance/asking further questions about their racism on the server. i’m glad people are learning from me, but this is a huge amount of emotional labor that i put into the server and its members because of course i have to reply and explain things and tell them not to worry and thank them for apologizing, etc. i know that these messages aren’t your fault, nor am i asking you to do anything about this. but it feels important that you know the price that i (and perhaps other poc in the server, although i can’t speak to that) pay in order to share space with you.

MOD 2 has even messaged me personally to thank me for educating people in the server and responding to racist messages, saying: “really appreciate how much effort you put in and everything, i was trying to type something up but floundering badly.” it was a nice message, and i appreciated it a lot! it also led me to believe that the mods would prefer if i engage with racist messages myself, rather than ping them, because it felt like i was just going to be more able/willing to articulate a response anyway.

so when SERVER MEMBER 2 messaged the zukka channel “thought that lives in my head rent free: Sokka's hairstyle in canon is just a warrior's hairstyle and has meaning because of that. Sokka wearing the same hairstyle in a modern AU is undisputably queer-coded” and nobody replied for a while, i assumed that it was because they had seen what i had seen-- a racially insensitive message that totally ignores sokka’s indigenous heritage and the history behind indigenous hair-- so i decided to step in with what i thought was a balanced response. 

SERVER MEMBER 2 then replied with a cheery “Fair enough! I will defer to your greater knowledge,” which i couldn’t tell was sarcastic or not, but i decided to be generous and to believe they were genuinely thankful for my reply, so i responded with a “you too can have great knowledge. i only know things because i read things. anyone can read things and learn,” which is something i firmly believe and also a way to divert the conversation away from SERVER MEMBER 2’s mistake, which i felt was the most dignified solution for them. i suppose this message could be read as aggressive because i didn’t use exclamation marks? but that feels unfair and ungenerous because i genuinely did not mean this message in a harsh way.

then SERVER MEMBER 3 jumped in and asked a few questions, which i read as a request for clarification, so i tried to continue to explain my point. it felt like SERVER MEMBER 3 wasn’t understanding what i was trying to explain, or at least i wasn’t able to articulate myself well enough, which was making me a little tired and stressy (and i was also thinking about my own race and queerness in stressful and triggering ways), so i decided to tap out of the conversation. 

me: dude i love u and i respect u and i truly believe that u are trying very hard to understand, but this conversation is making me kinda heated

SERVER MEMBER 3: I’m gonna step back from it because it’s not my conversation to insert myself into, which is what I did initially and apologize for

me: i think it's so important to engage + ask questions & i appreciate that u respect my opinions on these things, but i think i'm just. i have said what i need to say and now must sleep. much love to all.

to me, this felt like me expressing that i was feeling tired and upset and leaving the conversation, while still attempting to reassure SERVER MEMBER 3 that i still admired him as a friend. i felt like the conversation had ended peacefully!

i hope this helps explain why MOD 3’s message came as such a surprise. 

“the escalation to defensiveness and accusation regarding the original (relatively benign) statement was unnecessary and exaggerated. There’s an atmosphere of purity policing that’s been growing, which is why I took away the squick channel, as I assumed that a space that encouraged no repercussions was facilitating irresponsibility aggressive arguments. “

i truly didn’t believe i was being defensive. i was very careful not to accuse anyone of anything. in fact, i tried as far as i could to coat my language in “i” statements-- “i would personally not choose…”, “i would just. stay away from…” in order to avoid “accusations.” i was also trying very hard not to be aggressive, and i (and other poc that i have spoken to about this) believe that the idea that my messages were aggressive is racialized. just because a poc is upset about racism, it doesn’t mean they’re attacking you personally! 

i feel so hurt that my messages were wilfully interpreted in this way, instead of being read generously and from a more compassionate perspective, especially since i voiced my own upset and discomfort during the conversation. it distresses me to think that me expressing negative emotions is seen as aggressive, rather than a cause for empathy or care, and i do believe that this is because of my race.

if a mod had asked me to take the messages to the DMs or to squick or even just let me know that someone was interpreting my messages as aggressive, i would have changed my behavior. (like i said earlier, i spend a HUGE amount of energy coddling white people on this server. i am very used to it.) 

instead, i got the shock of 45 minutes after the fact, being publicly chastised and labeled as aggressive and being told that my conversation was “something nasty or unwanted.” 

the idea that SERVER MEMBER 3 was de-escalating a “clearly escalating situation” feels untrue to me. i was ready to move on after i sent my message to SERVER MEMBER 2, but he kept engaging me on the subject! (no hate to SERVER MEMBER 3 on this.)

i think one of the most painful parts of this whole situation is the implication that i was attempting to “purity police,” as though i am a person who picks fights just because i want to feel good about picking fights?? or to act holier-than-thou???? i do not do this. if you have witnessed ANY interaction i’ve had with a racially insensitive white person on the server, you will know this. 

i am simply a person of color trying to live my life. i do not want to fight about racism. i want to chill out and watch my cartoons. unfortunately, sometimes, someone will say something that i consider racially insensitive and i will do my best to engage and explain why i find this insensitive. that is all. (it is important to note that most of the time, when i see racially insensitive things on the server, i do not say anything because i am tired and it is a lot of effort to engage. i truly only engaged this time because nobody had replied to the message and i was just like, oh, fine, i guess i’ll educate, since no one else has!)

this whole incident has honestly made me really hurt and disrespected. i have enjoyed my time on the server and i have made some good friends there. however, it feels clearer and clearer to me that the server is a space where white feelings of safety (not being criticized for their racist content) are prioritized over poc’s feelings of safety (not having to witness and experience racist content). i sincerely considered myself to be an active and enthusiastic member of the server, maybe even friends with some of you, but it feels to me that all of our previous positive interactions have been displaced by this idea of me as an aggressive, overzealous purity cop who calls things racist for fun. 

i don’t even know how to repair my relationship with the server after this because i really do feel horrible and sick about the whole thing. i have spoken to other poc who also expressed their concerns about the way the mods handled the situation, even if these other poc weren’t directly involved, and some of us are considering leaving the server, if we haven’t already. (i would also like to note that these people reached out to me, unprompted, to make sure i was doing okay after what they and i interpreted as a micro-aggression by the mods. like, we independently read the situation in this way.)

(also, not sure if this matters, but i talked to SERVER MEMBER 3 the morning after the incident because i wanted to make sure he was okay, and we both ended up apologizing to each other and having a really good and productive talk.)

thanks again for reading this. i hope that you’ll be able to better understand my perspective on what occurred. i truly appreciate the work that you put into the server (especially as someone who also puts work into the server lol), and i know it’s difficult to mod a large server (i also mod an atla server!), but i continue to feel hurt about this. i know it’s hard to read tone over server messages, but i really wish that my (and SERVER MEMBER 4′s and SERVER MEMBER 5′s ) server messages had been read with greater compassion. 

...

and that’s all folks! i’m going to be remaking my blog soon, partially because this whole experience has exhausted me and partially because i have been meaning to anonymize my internet presence for some time.

[caithyra]

It’s just so wrong...

CW: Cartoon being fine with an adult having children with a child.

I didn’t think the anime could do worse character assassination than what they did with Kagome, and then they made Yashahime. The fact that all the characters are okay with it after they were explicitly condemned it in Inuyasha (chapters 147-152 in manga) just shows that everyone must be OoC for this to happen.

Here’s the thing, though, if people want to explore unsavory things in their fiction, I have nothing against it with a few caveats.

I am, however, against adult-guardian/child-ward being portrayed in a positive/neutral light in a mainstream children’s cartoon aimed for the age-range of the victim because it normalizes it.

At least slap a MA/NC-17 rating on that shit. Don’t blindside people like that (also, parents who conscientiously vetted the PG-13 cartoon by watching the first 3 episodes are in for a nasty surprise, since they kept it secret for so long).

This is also horrid to survivors, since they can’t even watch mainstream cartoon sequels (of series that condemned what they went through!) aimed at young teens without running into a trigger (not every survivor will have it, but many will, and many who weren’t even survivors but around such situations in childhood don’t like being “surprised” either, even if they only get a general feeling of revulsion when exposed to it).

What’s next? Ken dumping Barbie for Chelsea? Sasuke dumping Sakura for Sarada (well, he has less of a paternal relationship with Sarada than Sessho has with Rin...)? Like if this does not up the rating to R/NC-17/M/MA/AO/[whatever rating means 16-18+] what will? Because this is waaaay worse than on-screen, consensual sex between adults.

But congrats, Yashahime, you have the dubious dishonor of being the worst sequel I’ve ever heard of (including Cursed Child, Boruto, and the rest).

[sammysdewysensitiveeyes]

I was just thinking about the villains that I obsess over, and how I would rank them in terms of morality, because I think a lot of my faves are the “not so bad” guys that sometimes show a little potential for goodness (but are still basically jerks).  And then there’s Maximus who is just a chaotic asshole. 

But if I was going to rank from best (as in nicest) to worst (most evil), it would go like this:

Pied Piper/Hartley Rathaway: Angry nerd musician, uses mind control and sonic waves to commit robberies.  Born into a wealthy but abusive family, he later becomes concerned with issues of poverty and social justice, and starts helping the homeless.  The one Flash rogue who has reformed and stayed reformed, he was even close friends with Wally West in the 90′s. (I so miss this friendship and wish DC would let them interact again.)  Tries to kill Flash during the Silver Age (all the Rogues did), but to my knowledge has not murdered anyone in his crimes.  (He did kill Desaad and blow up Apokolips during Countdown, but Desaad had it coming.)  Given that he’s been reformed for years, I think it’s an absolute waste that he’s never gotten onto some kind of Justice League auxiliary team or something.  Put the boy on a team book, he’s got potential!

Trickster/James Jesse: Wacky bank robber and con man who enjoys the thrill of tricking people more than he really cares about the money.  Over-dramatic little shit who sometimes acts like a smooth con man and sometimes acts like a cartoon character, often in the same comic.  Is good friend with Hartley (or at least he used to be, but I think their friendship has fallen into the DC continuity garbage pit).  Tried to kill Flash during the Silver Age, but to my knowledge has not murdered anyone.  He did push his parents off a building in the his latest arc, but Flash saved them.  He’s a selfish jerk who is capable of goodness occasionally and flirted with the idea of reform, but much less sincerely than Hartley.  I’m kinda protective of him because I’m afraid DC will push him in a dark direction to match the CW version, who is Doing Trickster Wrong.  Like, it’s okay to just let him be silly bank robber, they don’t all have to be edgy.

Pyro/St. John Allerdyce: Punch clock villain - always the lackey, never the leader, small time evil.  I think he’s similar to Avalanche and Blob in that he’s basically an ammoral, selfish mercenary type.  He looks out for number one first.  He’s definitely killed people, and probably enjoys burning things a little too much.  I don’t think he necessarily gets his jollies from killing at random (like he’s not a serial killer type), but if you meet him on the battlefield he’s gonna be a nasty, vicious piece of shit.  He’s actually kinda affable evil - if you meet him at a bar, he’ll probably just hang out and drink with you.  He seems to bond with his team-mates, and has been a pretty good team-player in Marauders (even referring to them as his friends last issue).  He also seemed to regret his past actions when he was dying of the Legacy Virus, and tried to make up for it by saving Senator Kelley.  Now he’s back to partying and burning things in Marauders, but at least he seems to be on the X-Men’s side now? 

Riddler/Edward Nygma: I actually think he doesn’t really enjoy killing, but I rank him worse than Pyro because he’s arguably caused more damage over the years.  Riddler is determined to show up Batman and prove that he is the bestest, smartest boy in all the world, and he doesn’t care who gets hurt in the process.  He kills people mostly as pawns and side casualties - if they weren’t smart enough to escape (or Batman didn’t save them quickly enough), hey, that’s not his fault, right?  Depending on the writer, he can range from a silly, slightly pathetic villain with a goofy schtick to a cold-hearted, terrifying criminal mastermind.  He reformed briefly and worked as a detective while he had amnesia, but went back to crime again pretty quickly.  I like the idea of PI Riddler, trying to show up Batman through legal means, competing not as criminal vs. detective, but as two fellow detectives.  I wish we’d gotten more PI Riddler, but oh well.

Maximus: Okay, this dude is just the worst.  Sometimes claims to be doing things “for the good of the Inhuman people,” but he’s generally just wrecking shit for his own selfish purposes or because he wants to cause chaos and tear everything down.  I can have a little sympathy for him for his obvious mental illness, and because he grew up in a pretty dysfunctional family/society, but he’s still pretty terrible.  And I generally don’t consider the mental illness to be a reason for his villainy - like, he’s a villain who happens to be mentally ill, not a villain because of his mental illness.  He’s caused plenty of death in his uprisings, generally treats people like disposable pawns, and is willing to sell out his people to the Kree if it means he gets to rule.  Sometimes he works with his family against a common threat as the token evil team-mate (and I generally enjoy him most in this role), but he’s always got his own agenda.  The closest he came to a redemption arc was probably when the saw his own horrible future in Royals, and seemed genuinely distressed at what befell the Inhuman people.  He’s a lot of fun, though.  Snarky, hilarious, chaotic, and utterly brilliant.  He can be the mad scientist or the manipulative political advisor, or both depending on the story.  I just want him to build giant robots and wreck things. 

Honorable mention: Loki.  I don’t even know where to rank him.  He used to be a monster on par with Maximus, Doom or old-school Magneto, now he’s a sarcastic, angsty hipster that pops up to annoy Thor or help Thor in an annoying way.  He’s fun! 

Second honorable mention: Fabian Cortez.  In terms of intentions, he’s really just as bad, or maybe even worse than Maximus.  But since his debut in the 90′s, he’s gone through so many stages of villain decay that now he’s basically the X-Men/Quicksilver’s Team Rocket.  Not even remotely a threat, and probably gonna get his ass kicked quickly.  For that, I might put him somewhere between Riddler and Pyro, or between Riddler and Maximus.  He’s hilarious, and I love him.

Obviously, this list is entirely subjective and my own opinion.  People are free to disagree about where people belong on the list.  There’s probably not much point in ranking comic characters this way, given that any of them can get pushed in darker directions or towards redemptive arcs based on writers, and many comic characters have committed atrocities that have gotten swept under the rug.  There’s also the question of motive vs. actions - is Fabian really less bad because he’s incompetent?  Who knows?  This is just something I was thinking about, and wanted to write out in terms of my faves.