#Evil AND Unhinged

[wolfertinger666]

Demonia! the witch!

(SHE/HER) 🐏🏳️‍⚧️🖤

[the-crooked-library]

one thing that i really enjoy about milchick is the consistency of his characterization. like, yeah, the "you must eradicate from yourself childish folly, you must abandon childish things" scene was stunning - but its impact would never have amounted to the same level if the show hadn't demonstrated already that he is a playful, fun-loving person.

yeah yeah evil middle management whatever milchick is constantly trying to insert Fun into the process, and while it's mostly corporate manipulation, corporate crucially does not approve of it. he is really putting too much effort into things. he dances during the Music/Dance Experience. sets up a scavenger hunt during the ORTBO when it could've been a powerpoint. the entire concept of an ORTBO actually. the bonfire. he reads out loud and does the voices. none of it ever goes well (what with the biting and the carrot penis etc) but he doesn't stop, even despite the negative feedback from the Board. he wants to be playful and childish so bad but he can't, and he keeps trying to provide that to the innies because he clearly wishes someone would do that for him, but they hate it, they don't appreciate it, and he takes it sooooo personally it's stupid

i want to set him loose in an arcade or something. with an escape room and a jungle gym. he would be in there for hours frolicking like a baby goat but nooo he has to go be evil. it's a 9 to 5. well, a 9 to 5:45 (they stagger the exits). and sometimes 9 to 2am. and then again to 9, because that's how it is, isn't it?.. nobody ever leaves.

[sunlight-shunlight]

anyway dai solas you will always be famous to me. nothing but respect for my boy who wandered off mid-cutscene in the hinterlands to go help out refugees, is extremely good at Lies Of Omission™️, has a whole spy/agent/informant network of elves who followed him, fervently argues that it's unethical to be happy about killing bandits bc they had lives and loved ones, describes his own temple(?) prison(?) as having "indecipherable" elven writing, has ferocious debates with dorian and iron bull about slavery, set himself on fire once by mistake, and within about a year of his 10000 year lifespan, went from seeing all the world as disposable emotionless husks, to developing actual friendships and even falling in love.

and then! still thought it was necessary to destroy and reset the world! but he would treasure the chance to be wrong again!!

[eliotbaum]

posted this character sheet a while ago on Patreon, and here it goes as well.

Bonus:

[whitedarkmoonflower]

Natasha O'Keeffe as Lanfear // The Wheel of Time S3E8

[favourtonon]

Tim mourning someone because they died

them coming back to life

next time someone dies

Tim again mourning

them coming back to life

A lot of deaths later

Bruce: Tim? Buddy?

Tim: yeah?

Bruce: you know it’s okay to mourn and grieve, your friend just died

Tim: oh don’t worry they’ll be back eventually…

Bruce: but what if they don’t?

Tim: ….

*tim proceeds to put on his best evil scientist lab coat and gloves*

Tim: then I will Frankenstein this shit

Bruce: ??? You just had that ready??

Tim: duh

[bastardcatthings]

Sometimes I wonder how this sweet soft spoken guy who has adopted a zoo worth of strays is best friends with designated grid cunt (affectionate) george russell, and then I remember his reaction to the hamilton move was "good for lewis. good for his bank account" and then i wonder no more

[rhymo-s]

Pov ur about to get mind crushed

[lost-st4rs]

Copycat!

[ohara-n-brown]

I think I know why Bela is my favorite sister.

All things considered Daniela and Cassandra could easily lure my gay ass in. Look at them

Aside from the covered in blood thing they look normal. Hot and normal.

Daniela? SWEETHEART. I'd get sliced to ribbons easily.

Look at her. She looks so kind. If she asked me for a hug I'd give it to her and pay gravely for it

Cassandra. Hot goth.

Does she look like she's thinking mean thoughts about me? Yes. Does she look like she could make me cry at any moment? yes. If she tells me to follow her into a dark forest alone am I going to listen?.... Also yes.

BELA THOUGH?

There's nothing about this woman that looks even remotely sane. No one would look at this woman and think 'oh yeah she can be trusted with weapons and sharp knives.'

I never seen a woman I could describe as looking straight-up 'maniacal'

She's smiles like she wants to kill you with hammers

She smiles like she has voices in her head and they're telling funny evil jokes and honestly?

That's hot.

[somesecretpie]

[mylittlenookcorner]

Plutarch is such an interesting character. We know he was part of the plan at the end of Catching Fire. But plotting this Revolution for decades all under Snow’s nose without losing his credibility in the Capitol? Even after the plot failed in Haymitch’s games, Snow never suspected him to be in league with the rebels. Somehow this man still got the president to confidently trust him enough to get appointed Head Gamemaker without arousing suspicion.

Snow didn’t realise he got played until it was too late. Plutarch played both sides so well and was the slippery menace behind it all. And after all the pain, trauma, and loss everyone experienced from the Revolution, the only one who came out unscathed was Mr. Head Gamemaker himself. He’s such a conniving mastermind. Such an interesting character.

[angeloftuesdayy]

all's fair in love and war

[saudariel]

Yes, Halbrand is Sauron.

THE RINGS OF POWER 2.06 "Where Is He?"

[wondersinwaynemanor]

Jason aggressively searching through the Manor, grumbling profanities under his breath.

Jason: If y'all don't give it up, I guarantee what will happen next won't be pretty.

Damian: Tt. You disarranged the Legos I worked hard on, Todd.

Tim: Hey! I helped Dami with that last night.

Duke: What are you looking for, Jay? Maybe we can help.

Dick: Little Wing, what is it?

Jason: My Wonder Woman plushie! Where the fuck is it? I swear, if one of you tried to--

Duke: Haven't seen it.

Damian: If you weren't so careless and if you were smarter, Todd, it would be easier to find.

Tim: You still have that plushie? Didn't you have it since you were fifteen?

Dick: You're an adult now, Jay. No need to be mad about it.

Damian: Grow up, Todd.

Jason: What did you say?

Duke and Tim: Uh, oh.

Jason: Doesn't matter how old I am, that plushie is important to me!

Jason: And don't be a hypocrite, Dickhead, you still have that Superman stuffed toy in your apartment and you're nearing your thirties.

the rest of the younger brothers stare at Dick.

Dick: I--I lost it! I don't know where it went.

Bruce, on the other side of the room, laughing wickedly. he's the culprit for hiding his kids' plushies or stuffed toys that aren't Batman.

this man is nearing his fifties but he still gets grumpy when his kids don't own a merch of him.

[noobiestnoober]

No One Touches What's Mine (Leon x Reader)

Victor only brushed your back when he handed you the dossier. Leon saw. Leon ended him.

After a bullet to the skull and a whispered "no one touches what's mine," you see the version of Leon no one else does—the man behind the mission, unraveling quietly for you. His love isn’t hearts and roses—it’s blood on the walls, shredded intel, and promises whispered like oaths: "I’d gut God if He looked at you wrong."

You should be scared. You’re not. And that’s the most dangerous part.

Read if you like: 🖤 dark obsession 🖤 possessive, unhinged lovers 🖤 heavy tension & blurred morality 🖤 watching your sanity fray under his gaze 🖤 “I killed for you. Now let me prove it.”

It started with a gunshot. One clean pop. A single breath of thunder.

The bullet punched through Victor’s skull like a secret whispered straight through his brain. Right temple in, left temple out—crimson mist sprayed across the wall behind him, a wet signature of death. The silence that followed wasn’t silence at all. It was a moment held hostage. A tension strung so tight it could snap bone.

Victor crumpled. Twitch. Collapse. Nothing. And Leon stood there, arm outstretched, pistol still raised, body calm. The muzzle smoked lazily in the dim hallway light, like the ghost of rage was still drifting off his barrel.

You didn’t scream. You didn’t move. You couldn’t. Your breath caught in your throat, not from fear—but from something far more dangerous. A dark understanding. A terrible, irreversible truth.

He turned to you. Leon Kennedy. Not the clean-cut operative. Not the golden boy of Raccoon City. No—this man wasn’t tactical, wasn’t stable, wasn’t safe. He was the monster that crawled out of the wreckage and learned to love. And you were the only thing keeping him from going feral completely. Or maybe the only thing he wanted to destroy himself for.

“You okay?” he asked, voice like steel wrapped in silk.

You didn’t answer. Your body swayed, but he caught you. Of course he did. One strong arm coiled around your waist, pulling you flush against him, the scent of smoke and blood soaking into your lungs.

“I warned him,” Leon murmured, thumb brushing your cheekbone with disturbing tenderness. “Told him once—no one touches what’s mine.”

Three Days Earlier

You’d been gearing up in the safehouse locker room when Victor slid a dossier into your hand, his palm grazing your lower back. Too casual. Too comfortable. You brushed it off, as usual. Leon didn’t. From the other side of the room, he watched. Quiet. Unblinking. Not a man. A weapon.

That night, the same dossier showed up shredded on your cot. Ripped down the middle, soaked in what smelled like scotch and spite. You confronted him, teeth bared.

“Did you seriously destroy a mission file because you got jealous?”

Leon didn’t look up from cleaning his knife. Just kept polishing the blade like it was a fucking mirror into his mind. “This isn’t jealousy.” He finally spoke, low and deliberate. “This is what I look like when I’m being merciful.”

You scoffed. “You’re not the fucking Punisher, Leon.”

He stepped forward, close enough that your back hit the wall. The tension snapped tight, so thick you could taste it.

“No,” he said, almost gently. “I’m worse.”

Present – After the Shot

The blood still clung to your boots. Still warm. Still glistening like fresh paint. Leon’s fingers pressed into your hip with bruising force, holding you against the cold concrete wall. “I didn’t want to scare you,” he said quietly, forehead resting against yours. “But I’m not letting this happen again.”

His breath dragged across your lips. “No more near touches. No more stolen glances. No more of that fucking smirk he gave you.”

You opened your mouth. He pressed two fingers to it. “You think I’m sick?” he asked. “You’re right.”

His mouth found your throat. One soft kiss. One scrape of teeth. “I don’t want normal. I don’t want peace.” His voice broke. “I want you. Every part. Even the ones you’re afraid to give.”

You didn’t push him away. You didn’t stop him. You should have. Instead, your head tilted. Just a little. Just enough. And that’s all he needed.

Safehouse Bedroom – Later

The sheets were rumpled. Your gun holster hung from the bedframe. Leon sat at the edge of the mattress, shirtless, scars on full display—each one a love letter from hell. His hand rested over your bare stomach, fingers splayed, warm and heavy. Possessive. “You’re not afraid anymore,” he said, almost in awe.

You turned your face toward him. “Maybe I should be.”

He leaned down. Kissed your jaw. Your throat. “But you’re not.”

You weren’t. And that scared you more than the gun in his holster.

The obsession grew like a mold in your life. Leon watched you when you spoke to others. Sometimes said nothing. Sometimes stared hard enough to burn holes through them. You found your necklace once—one you’d lost weeks ago—tucked into his vest pocket. He never told you how he got it. And then the note. Folded into your glove like a secret.

“Don’t trust them. Don’t even smile at them. They don’t see you like I do. They don’t deserve you.”

You burned it. But not before reading it three times.

You stood at the edge of the safehouse’s old balcony, moonlight cutting across your skin. He stepped up behind you, arms caging you in, chest against your back.

“How far would you go for me?” you asked softly.

Leon didn’t miss a beat. “I’d gut God himself if He looked at you wrong.”

You turned to face him. His eyes were wild. Raw. Real. He cradled your face in both hands, thumb dragging over your lower lip.

“I’d burn the whole world,” he whispered, “just to make sure no one ever touches what’s mine again.”

His kiss that followed wasn’t a promise. It was a possession.