#he's very lovely 😔

[minzbins]

lovely ♡

[lotus-pear]

ok gayboy

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

YOU’RE AN ANGEL, I’M A DOG ; SATORU GOJO

synopsis; an upcoming exam has been stressing you out, and satoru’s pleas for you to take care of yourself fall on deaf ears. he takes matters into his own hands.

word count; 4.3k

contents; satoru gojo/reader, gn!reader, yan!gojo, as far as yanderes go he’s very mild i think (im sensitive u can trust me!!), mentions of blood, implied murder (not depicted!!), he threatens your professor w a knife lol, surprisingly fluffy??, gojo is soooo lovesick & smitten, he just wants his baby to live a happy life :( is that so wrong :((, also your parents love him <33 and he calls you honey <333 ideal man.

a/n; i blacked out & when i woke up this was in my drafts… mysterious. @kissxcore here u go alexis <33 one very smitten morally gray yan!gojo just for u!! i completely lost the plot halfway through but i had a lot of fun writing this!! :33 i don’t dabble in yan content at all so it was a fun lil challenge hehe, i hope it ended up . Somewhat .. decent…

satoru thinks you deserve everything good.

”haah…”

— the sigh spills into the air, like a dot of ink on paper, dripping with exhaustion; a palpable fatigue that has his heart clenching beneath his ribs.

just as he feared, you’re here. again. seated on the couch, in the living room, legs crossed and framed by flimsy strings of moonlight; illuminated only by the dim light of the laptop in front of you. carding through your hair, blinking sluggishly.

another sigh. deep, exasperated, from satoru this time. he keeps a single hand on his hip, brows furrowed in soft disappointment. 

”honey… what do you think you’re doing?”

you jolt, the sudden sound breaking you out of whatever trance you were previously in. when your gaze flits to his, craning your head to see him rest against the wall leading up to your bedroom, he thinks you look a little like a kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

it makes him smile. despite his disapproval.

”ah — satoru! it’s… um.” a moment passes. he can practically see the gears of your mind turning, searching for a good excuse. ”… not what it looks like?”

he clicks his tongue. ”nice try.”

then he’s walking towards you, in long strides, gliding across the room like a butterfly in search of nectar. from the sweetest flower there ever was.

even when said flower is still awake, past midnight, pulling an all-nighter despite his frequent advice not to. his very frequent, very thoughtful advice not to strain yourself until you just about pass out.

but you just won’t listen.

”’m disappointed in you, baby,” he huffs, just playful enough to ward off any genuine feelings of distress. he could never truly be disappointed in his baby. ”what did we say about studying this late, hm?”

a sheepish chuckle slips past your lips. satoru is standing in front of you, hands on his hips, raising a questioning eyebrow as you squirm. lighthearted, yes, but genuine. it makes you feel a little guilty.

”… sorry,” you breathe, closing the lid of your laptop. knowing he won’t let you stay up any longer. with the loss of light, your face becomes shrouded in darkness. ”just can’t sleep when i’m so stressed.”

at that, satoru makes a tiny noise — something worried, a little sad, from the base of his throat. a soft frown finds its way onto his lips, and he blinks the sleep away from his senses. plopping down beside you.

”i know. i’m not trying to lecture you,” he croons, reaching out to cradle the apple of your cheek. you melt into him like molten honey, easy and sweet. ”just worried. know you’re stressed.”

and he does. he does know — it’s all he’s been able to think about, these past few weeks. to his dismay, he’s even begun to grow used to this sight, used to finding you in the midst of working yourself to exhaustion. fighting the urge to sleep, slumped over your desk, or cooped up on the couch. staring into your laptop like it holds the secrets of the universe.

time and time again, he’s told you to take care of yourself. tried to coax you into relaxing, rubbing your sore shoulders and kissing the puffy skin beneath your eyes. but this exam is important — you’ve told him as much, more times than he can count. he doesn’t doubt that you’re right. 

of course you’d be stressed. he gets it.

still, though.

”but you know it’s not good, yeah? that it’ll just burn you out?” his thumb goes to smooth over the dark crescents beneath your eyes, gentle as a feather. ”we don’t want that, do we?”

you bite your lip. trapping it between your teeth. he knows you know. ”… yeah,” you admit, a flimsy little sigh on your tongue. ”it just feels easier to do this at night. don’t know why.”

”my little night owl.”

that makes you smile, a little, but it’s not enough to satisfy him. he curls an arm around your waist, and drags you into his lap; gentle, always gentle, like all that exists under your skin is made of porcelain. like the lines of your face form a string of words, a label of fragile: handle with care. he always does.

with his heartbeat by your ear, his warmth melting into yours, it’s easier to speak. a pressure on your chest that fades away. ”i’ll try not to do it again,” you murmur, biting back a soft yawn. nuzzling into his neck. ”promise. don’t wanna worry you…”

satoru softens. 

(always so good to him.)

”it’s fine, honey. i understand.” he smiles, smoothing down your spine, counting the bumps of vertebra that slide along his palm. ”don’t worry that pretty little head of yours over me, alright?”

in return for his comfort, you wriggle away, lifting your head to give him a smile. one of your many smiles, each one fervently cherished by him; the one you’re wearing now is tired, a soft curl of your lips, the kind that makes him want to lull you to sleep. just the sight alone makes the anxiety in his veins feel like a worthy investment.

he doesn’t tell you anything that could cause that joy to diminish. doesn’t tell you that he can’t sleep without you, that he can barely breathe knowing you’re this stressed all time. doesn’t tell you that he jolted awake with a sinking feeling of dread, a gaping pit in his stomach when he didn’t immediately feel the warmth of your skin against his. doesn’t tell you that he always, always assumes the worst.

satoru doesn’t tell you these things. it’s a safety measure, an act of love. a bundle of unvoiced syllables, woven into white lies, silky and sweet. tailor-made to put your aching mind at ease. 

satoru thinks you deserve everything good.

it’s a theory, of sorts, a train of thought. a hypothesis made manifest. after many years of pondering, he’s arrived at the following conclusion; you are all that’s good. therefore, it only follows that you deserve everything that’s good, all of it and more. satoru believes you deserve every single thing your little heart desires — and he’s determined to give it to you.

so he’s been worried.

it’s not that he doesn’t trust you. he knows you’ll ace the exam, knows you’ll do your very best, knows you’ll make him proud. you always do. you aren’t the problem, no, never.

he just doesn’t trust your professor. 

that unfair, stuck-up, incompetent professor who’d fail his students just for being a couple minutes late, who curates his exams to be as convoluted as humanly possible. you and your friends are starting to suspect he just likes berating people for a living. satoru knows it all, he’s heard it all, of course he has. satoru pays attention to everything, when it comes to you. he knows all about your professor, the man who’s been making your studies pure hell for the past semester.

it makes his blood boil. steady, ruminating, hot and heavy in his veins. a rivulet of lava.

(it was only a matter of time.)

satoru is a teacher too; he knows that type. one that has no business being a teacher, in the first place, one no student deserves to be subjected to. he’s met more of them in his career than he could even begin to count. the thought of one of his own students being at the mercy of someone so incompetent makes his skin itch.

and the thought of you, seated on the couch, crying and sniffling when he comes home because none of the exam questions made enough sense for you to even try —

it makes satoru want to claw his skin off.

it makes that tiny, tiny cavern in his heart extend, widen, like a maw, swallowing up his liver and lungs and sense of morality. an emptiness begging to be filled. 

there’s only one way to satiate it.

so he plants a wet kiss on your forehead, ruffles your hair, tucks you into bed and waits until you fall asleep. deep and heavy, a slumber you won’t wake up from anytime soon. he presses his lips to your forehead one more time — for good measure.

then he grabs his coat and slips outside.

the moon is visible through the window.

a thin crescent, nailed next to the dim stars, leaking a dream-like fluorescent shine; illuminating the office, so quiet he can hear those erratic breaths spill out, one by one. a heavy, heavy silence, thick enough to spread like butter over toast. 

(ah, that’s right — he forgot to buy the butter you asked for this morning. no wonder he feels so out of sorts. he’ll have to grab it on his way back.)

”who… w — what are — ?”

satoru stays silent. lips pursed, eyes keen, burning into the back of the man in front of him. close, almost chest to back, enough to have him scowling in displeasure. 

just being in his presence makes satoru feel a little sick. 

he keeps the blade pressed right beneath his adam’s apple, a silver glimmer in an office painted blue and gray. not enough to sink into his skin, but enough to have his heartbeat hammering, enough that satoru can practically feel those rapid flutters of life. brushing against his gloved hand.

he gets straight to the point. voice muffled by the fabric covering his mouth, low enough that it’s barely even audible. he’s careful, about this kind of thing. there’s a delicacy to the ill intent, something he’d be a little enamored with if it weren’t for the compass stuffed into his ribs — the compass that tells him this is wrong.

he just can’t bring himself to care.

”the upcoming exam.” his voice sends a shiver down the man’s spine. satoru can feel it. ”don’t fail a single student.”

silence. pure silence, suffocating them, tangling itself into the air. satoru can practically taste it — fear, familiar, that pang of panic. a ticking time-bomb. the knife stays pressed against warm skin, pushing, sinking, just a little, a drop of red against his pale throat. 

it’s enough to get your professor to make a little noise, one that vaguely resembles a whine. like that of a small animal, rolling over on its belly, eager to play dead. no word is spoken in reply, but he nods, just barely, a nervous tremble of his head.

satoru hums, approving. ”good.” he doesn’t loosen his grip. ”there’s a particular student i’m worried about. marked them down in the catalogue... i’m counting on you.”

another noise. a grunt of affirmation, a silent plea — satoru allows that fear to seep into his own bones, just a little, just to get a taste of it. cold on his tongue. he wonders if this is what helplessness feels like.

then he takes a step back. slow, tentative, dragging the knife with him. not before parting his lips once more. ”don’t turn around,” he warns. ”i’ll be back if there are any complications. this’ll be our little secret, hm?”

the man in front of him doesn’t say a thing. frozen in fear, paralyzed, not moving an inch. a fly trapped in his web. it’s a relief.

before he exits the room, satoru puts the final nail in the coffin. just in case. ”i happen to know what school your daughter goes to.” he waits for a flinch, and it comes almost instantly. like clockwork. “remember that.”

it’s an empty threat. your professor doesn’t know that, though. he doesn’t know that satoru knows his daughter, that he walks past her preschool almost every morning on his way to work. that she waves to him whenever he passes by, and that he makes it a point to always wave back. a little troublemaker; the rowdiest of utahime’s preschoolers. she has a bubbly laugh, and just lost one of her milk teeth. she was giddy when she showed him, a bout of giggles spilling from her lips as he cooed and ruffled her hair. 

he wouldn’t lay a finger on her. 

but your professor doesn’t know that, hasn’t got a single clue, and satoru delights in the fear that must be running through his veins. down his spine, crawling into every narrow of his skeleton, making a home for itself that he’ll never quite be able to root out.

a gulp. satoru hears it, in the quiet of nightfall, just before he shuts the door behind him. good.

the rest of the evening is a blur. satoru gets home, relieved to find you still asleep, and tucks you into his chest. makes a mental reminder to order your favorite take out tomorrow; a little reward for your hard work.

finally, he can sleep easy. knowing you’ll get what you deserve. 

three weeks later, satoru places his hand on the familiar doorknob in front of him, dragging his weight behind him. blinking sluggishly. 

there’s a sinking feeling in his chest, weighing him down — like an anchor tied to his liver. a compass, tucked between his fourth and fifth rib, one that’ll always stay lodged right there. he’s learned to grow used to it, a natural consequence, a sign that his humanity is still intact. 

that doesn’t make it any less bothersome, though.

(ridding the world of a pest shouldn’t make him feel dirty. especially when he felt nothing but contempt for the pest in question, for the way he whistled as you walked by, the words he spewed before satoru met his eye. vile. putrid. why should he feel guilty for wiping a stain off the pavement?

it does make him feel dirty, though. a sinking feeling in his chest.)

there’s nothing to be done about it. satoru swallows the unpleasant taste on his tongue, and drags the door open, closing it behind him with a softness he reserves for you alone.

and there you are.

on the couch, farther away, already looking his way — lips instantly curling up into what he knows will be a smile. this time, it’s laced with excitement. one of his personal favorites. his gaze devours the joy in your features, the glimpse he gets of your teeth, that familiar crinkle of your eyes. 

you’re smiling. at him. you smile and his world wakes up, it’s dyed in different shades of blue, it’s brimming with life and love and something too good not to kill for. you smile and everything is right, good, worth it. you smile and it's as if the blood has been washed off his hands.

suddenly, all is well again. satoru exhales a blissful little breath.

“‘m home, honey,” he grins, a light pink dusting his cheeks, hanging his coat up before turning to face you. arms wide open. “did you miss me?”

his heartbeat stutters when you practically engulf him, all giddy giggles and that perfect smile, nuzzling into the crook of his neck. “mhm,” is what you chirp, pressing kisses down his collarbone, and he has to bite down on his lip to stop the shivers trailing down his spine. he tastes iron, but laps it up with a coo. sickly-sweet.

“missed you too, precious,” he purrs. “sorry i was gone for so long — had to take care of something.” 

he cups the back of your skull with his palm, large and crafted just to hold you, and marvels at how much you trust him. how you’re melting into his chest, fitting into every crevice of his heart. he wants to keep you there forever. forever and ever, always within reach, always close enough to touch. 

but he also wants you to be happy. he wants to see you run away, wherever the wind takes you, if only so he’ll get to feel you jump into his arms again, when you’ve had your fill of the world. when you come home to him, where you both belong.

satoru would never cage you. never, never, never. he wants you to enjoy your life — confining you wouldn’t do any good, would only stifle that pretty smile he loves so dearly. he wants your world to be large, brimming with life, blooming with fervor, wants the air to be clear enough for your beautiful lungs. he couldn’t build a world for you, here, in this apartment. no matter how big or luxurious. 

so his only option is to bend the world into a kinder shape — twist and mold until it forms a path good enough for you to follow.

(it’s worth it, he knows, he’ll always know. it’s worth it to see that smile.)

“is that a new coat?” you ask, naive and innocent, and it breaks him out of his thoughts, attention wired to the lilt of your voice.

“yeah.” it’s stylish, expensive, a nice shade of black. he had to throw the last one away. “looks nice, right? i’ll get you the same one, pretty.”

“you don’t have to, toru!” you hurriedly exclaim, knowing he’ll jump at the opportunity to spoil you. “i like the one i have now!”

satoru pouts. a soft huff, right by your ear. “you don’t wanna wear matching coats?” he feigns sadness, scratching softly at your scalp, drinking up the little purrs that bubble up in your throat. 

and you giggle. you giggle and all he can think is worth it, worth it, worth it. a stained coat or two means nothing. the blood on his hands is just insurance. 

“well, when you put it like that…” you shift a little, curling your arms around his neck, breathing him in. he wonders if you can smell the cleaning detergent. “i guess i wouldn’t mind a new coat.”

and he grins. “right? want me to buy you new shoes while i’m at it? some jewelry?” he peppers kisses down your neck, amusement laced in his voice. “the whole store?”

again, those giggles. again and again. he laps them up like fine wine. “okay, that’s too much.”

“but you deserve it!” he whines, sickeningly sweet. sick to his stomach with love. “been working so hard, my angel.”

and, suddenly — you light up. his little firefly. brightening, inhaling a giddy breath. pulling away, a little, and he does his best to bite back the frown on his face. you’re practically beaming, sunshine personified, eyes glittering with giddy joy.

“right! i almost forgot!” 

then you’re skipping away, happily, to retrieve your phone. and he knows what you’re going to show him, but still feigns surprise when he sees the score on your exam, that perfect 100 on the screen. still makes an expression of shock that he knows will get you to laugh, still picks you up and spins you around and tells you how proud he is.

he almost, almost feels bad, seeing you smile so wide; at what you assume to be the fruits of your own labour. almost feels ashamed, knowing that perfect 100 wouldn’t exist without the knife at your professor’s throat.

but, then again, this is how it should be. those numbers are the fruits of your own labour, because satoru is a part of you. and you deserve it, deserve it more than anyone — he knows you would have gotten it, even without his help, if your professor was competent enough to see your brilliance. 

satoru smiles. he is proud of you. and this is exactly how it should be. he’s just bending the world into its rightful shape, cutting strings from a wrongly woven web, righting the wrongs of the people around you.

you, you, you. the only thing that exists.

all of him is for you.

”i knew you could do it. never doubted you for a second, baby,” he smiles, so wide his cheeks hurt, and you return it with a kiss to his jaw. 

”thank you. i’m just so relieved,” you exhale a breath, heavy, and it’s like he can practically see the stress melting from your shoulders and eyes. worth it, worth it, worth it. ”gosh. i’m gonna sleep like the dead tonight.”

”as you should,” satoru chirps, pinching your side. softly, brimming with fondness. ”but before that, we’re gonna celebrate. all day. and tomorrow too!”

another smile coaxed from your lips; this time, it’s a little bit shy. bashful, at the praise, his endless excitement. so precious he wants to kiss you breathless. give you all the air in his lungs.

so precious that he forgets about everything else. 

this is what you always do to him; wrap him up in a blanket of your love, cloud his veins with a nectar so sweet he takes the leap into your arms without a second thought. a foolish, lovesick butterfly, sticking to a single rose; dripping with honey, overflowing. the butterfly is too drunk on love to care. 

you’re his flower, his joy, the most useful form of anesthesia. with you in his veins, on his mind, your lips on his jaw — satoru can pretend that his hands are clean. that they always have been.

it all slips from his mind. your professor, the creep who catcalled you yesterday, that one classmate you’ve been complaining about recently. he forgets that they even exists, and satoru thinks that must be what love is: something that narrows your world down until you can make a home out of it. 

(something worth holding onto, no matter the cost.)

as always, it’s your voice that snaps him out of the trance he’s in. turning around at the sound of your call, the orpheus to your eurydice, too in love to save you from himself. you’re both getting ready to head out, dressing up for a well-deserved date. 

satoru feels himself smile. he does the dirty work, and you get to reap the rewards. heaven on earth.

“oh, by the way! would you want to have dinner with my parents tomorrow?” you meet his absent gaze with a tilt of your head. “they’ve been asking about you again. it’s such a headache, seriously.”

satoru giggles, barely containing how delighted he is. raising a playful brow. “oh? grumpy that you aren’t the favorite child anymore, hm?”

“okay, first of all —“ you stifle a giggle, pulling a drawer open, rummaging through it. freshly washed clothes. he washes most of your things. “you aren’t their child. and second of all —“

“— yet.”

a pause. 

satoru watches your gaze flick over to him, then back to the drawer, collecting yourself. a cute flush to your cheeks. “… whatever.” you clear your throat. “second of all — i don’t like how much they like you. what kinda spell did you put them under? it’s always satoru this, satoru that!”

a huff fills the air, and you mutter something that sounds a little like mocking, an obnoxiously imitated where’s satoru? that makes him chuckle into his fist. 

he shrugs. “i’m just a natural charmer, y’know? and, for the record; i would love to have dinner with them.” he sends you a wink, playful, and you roll your eyes. “are you joining us?”

a bout of laughter pushes past your lips, and satoru thinks he could die happy — just soaking up the joy that spills from out your throat. he wishes he could live in it, paint your house in it, wear it. he wants your joy to be all he ever feels. he feels sick at the idea of ever being out of earshot for it.

“yes, i’m joining you.” your scoff is dripping with humour. ”i’d hate to be the fourth wheel, but it is what it is.”

satoru stifles a grin. ”lucky me. three beauties all to myself,” he drawls, a seductive lilt to his voice, just to hear that little noise you always make with the back of your throat. vaguely disgusted.

”you’re so gross.”

a coo. like the buzzing of a bee. ”don’t be jealous, honey. know you’re my favorite, don’t you?” satoru smiles — more sincere than you’ll ever know. ”could never love anyone else.”

”so my parents are in second place?” you quirk a brow, amusement lacing your words, and he clicks his tongue. 

”well, they made you. i’d have to be a fool not to worship artists of such caliber.” 

”charmer.”

”yours.” the word is a knife at his throat, a stain on his coat, a love so heavy it’ll burn him alive. ”only yours.”

and again, you smile. all he can think is that you deserve everything, everything he could ever give you. it’s all he can think as you go about your day, as he leads you outside, as he watches that flicker of joy dance inside your iris. as he watches you walk wherever your heart takes you.

the thought remains when you return home, when you wrap yourselves up in blankets and he throws a leg over your waist and you curl an arm around his ribcage. it’s all he can think. 

satoru was born to be of service — to someone, to the world, to something or another. he was born to carry a weight on his back, so why not bear the weight of your burdens?

all he wants is to protect you. all he’ll ever need is that smile on your face. he was always bound to be just this: a dog at your heels, a halo around your head, the watchful eye keeping you safe from everything rotten in this world. he’s the butterfly, the spider, the web itself. and he’ll never let you be tangled up in it.

he was born to be of service to you. so service you he will, until it all comes back to bite him.

“satoruuu — stop stealing the blanket!”

he prays it never will.

[bittersweetyrn]

big fan of essek thelyss, not the fanon interpretation, which is either "smol bean, tiny fragile elf who's a sweetheart and basically a child" or people mistakenly calling betrayal of one's home country a "war crime" and then proceeding to be flippant about it anyway, but the real Essek

pretentious motherfucker that committed treason bc he though he was smarter than everyone else

learned to float literally just to impress other rich people

canonically neutral evil

basically head spymaster of his country and master of lies but sucks shit lying to his friends

stayed bitchy even after his redemption arc

"there is nothing I would love more than to not be around you all for the remainder of this day"

a space wizard that crushed someone with telekenesis just to show off (the person was already dying)

sexy feet, nice ass, overall hottie

fell in love with a traumatized wizard of his enemy country and it was mutual despite all the betrayal

faggot

gave away state secrets to enemy wizard bc he though he was sexy

discovered time travel with his boyfriend

proceeded to say they shouldn't use time travel (bc now he's a good boy) but was willing to sacrifice everything and help if his bf wanted to use it

once confessed he had such a bad fight with his dad that his dad ran into the demon caves and never returned (essek doesn't feel bad about this at all)

young for an elf but still 120 years old, he called his bf "young man" and flexed on him about how much more evil he is

[turtleblogatlast]

Small but significant character moments that I actually really adore are from both the times we see the boys as tots. There is a reoccurrence that happens in both of them that I find so incredibly interesting.

For the turtle tot short, Splinter leaves the boys with weapons. In the short, Raph is the one who suggests they do “what Lou Jitsu would do” and Leo is the one who takes point when Splinter comes back to reprimand them. Leo, in taking point, is the one to defend them and get Splinter off their tails.

And then, in the flashback regarding the Kuroi Yōroi helmet, Raph is the one who grabs and throws “Skully” as a way to replace their missing ball which breaks it into pieces, but Leo is the one who speaks for the group and rushes into action to fix the teapot.

I love this for multiple reasons, but the biggest are how it shows that Raph has always been inclined toward the bold and fun and making the plans to include his brothers in what he loves and believes they’d love, whereas Leo has always been inclined to be the “Face” of the group and shoulder the attention even if it’s potentially negative all while coming up with on the spot attempts to fix the situation.

[reunitedinterlude]

summer phantasy: the album

tracks 5-8 (x)

[cupofcappuccy]

not much of a drawing but a traced ss from tmnt 12 cuz I wanted to see how Leo's shaped

He is very shaped 😔

[hyperblue]

kon: so. i was thinking

tim: uh-huh

kon: that i may be you know. into dudes? like. just a little b-

tim, straddling his lap immediately: wanna find out for sure

kon: wait what-

tim: don't you dare to take that back, i was waiting years for this

[pollyna]

Husband reveals but in the most normal way ever: Mav forgets his lunch home twice, and Tom drops by because he can't have a starving husband, even less for such an important mission. The first time he's wearing civvies and the daggers are far away to not notice him at all, the second one Ice is still in full uniform when he strolls in the cafeteria, drops Mav's lunch on the table, kisses his lips and "I'm not your errand boy, next time you forgot your lunch it's on you" to which Mav smiles dopey "whatever you say, Iceman. Eat with me?". How could Tom say no?

All around them, nobody moves because the Commander of the fucking Pacific Fleet is sharing a sandwich with their captain. And they kissed.

[poisonousquinzel]

okay okay okay okay okay the way this harlivy piece was released in Batman Chronicles Gallery #1 in 1997,, before the iconic Tango With Evil one by Alex Ross in 1999, and it's general pose similarities, but like instead of it being a one-sided romance with him possessively gripping her wrist rather than hold her hand,,, they're just actually holding each other

ya know?????

[galaxy-fleur]

Replaying RE4R, and I am once again thinking of how Leon just straight up murders a guy the moment he attacks. Like yeah, sure, he lunged at him with a weapon, there is a bloody badge of an officer, things are sketchy to say the least, but still. It all happens so fast, I doubt he actually had the time to fully put two and two together quite yet.

And you can't tell me that Leon, a trained agent, just overestimated the power of his kick on accident. That ↓

Was a pretty much deliberate kick. What's interesting is that in the OG RE4, he at least tells the ganado to freeze a good couple of times (or maybe once, I don't remember the specifics, but my point still stands) before actually proceeding to harm him. Remake Leon, meanwhile... just breaks his neck without a second thought.

And his reaction right after makes it... pretty obvious, honestly.

There is no strong reaction there to offing an old man in his home. Now, granted, he hears a scream right after, so it's not like he has much time to stand and ponder over what happened! But the only thing he says right after is: 'This is not good.' And, yeah, true, but we do know Leon is capable of expressing some level of distress over something he finds disturbing, and he proceeds to do that literally a few minutes later once you start exploring the village. So really, it's an interesting scene and a very intriguing way of introducing this hardened version of Leon we'll be playing as.

I wouldn't be thinking about this as much if not for the circumstances surrounding it. Not like Leon is aware that this man is infected with anything. Up until the moment he gets back up, he could be just some disturbed, paranoid old man or something. And he did just walk into someone's house. He's an intruder here, really. But the moment danger presents itself, he eliminates the threat without a second thought.

I think it speaks volumes of the past 6 years that passed for him, and how they shaped him. We don't know much of Leon's job: what it entails exactly, what kind of work he does on the daily, how the entire structure operates. And before the events of RE4, it's not like he was a well-known agent, if I remember correctly. It's his successful rescue of Ashley that got him high in the ranks. His status as a Racoon City survivor didn't do that. Throughout RE4R, we see him regain his humanity through the connections with other characters, going from the cold, robotic way he caries himself at the start of the game, to the determined, emotionally-invested man we later see carrying Ashley to Luis' laboratory.

It's very neat to think about! And while we all love Leon for his kind heart and his drive to save innocent lives, he is more than capable of violence, and that's an aspect of him I wish was talked about more. That neck break was definitely not the first one for him, just saying.

[grimalkinmessor]

Just to put a lot of my posts and beliefs about Light Yagami's character in one post (headcanons not included):

• He does not do anything for purely moral reasons. The reason he started killing criminals was because he was curious, and then afterward his "crusade" was built from panic and spite. He thought using the Death Note was going to kill him, so he decided to take everyone he considered a threat to society down with him—that way he would still be good. He would still be remembered. If he can't live, then criminals don't deserve to either. The weight loss and the insomnia shown in the manga, were more likely results of a fear of dying than moral stress.

• Then Light discovers he won't die. This negates part of the spite, but not the need for a moral justification to keep himself "good". He no longer needs to be a martyr, so instead he's chosen to become a God.

• During this week and half of time, Light goes from being a bored, lonely, listless teenager disgusted with the world because it's not how his father taught him it should be, disgusted because if he can manage perfection why can't the rest of the world—to a boy with a new friend and a new mission that gives him purpose. Something interesting. If the world can't be perfect on its own, he'll have to help it. The world needs his help, making him its "savior".

• In comes L. It is no longer about Kira, no longer about saving the world from itself, even if he might tell himself it is—it's about the game. Kira was a fun pastime, yes, but L has made things so much more interesting. (Light and Ryuk are actually wildly similar in several ways it's just not immediately obvious). This game is more fun, too, because this time he has an opponent—one not so nebulous as "the criminals of the world", who offered no challenge. Light is still justifying his actions through a lens of morality, because he has to, but they're beginning to run rather thin.

• Both the broadcast and the obvious taunts to L through changing Kira's killing methods supports the above. "You're too stupid, L. If you were just a little smarter, we could've had some fun." Drawing L in was to progress their game, not Kira's goals. If Light truly only cared about Kira's vision, Kira's new world, Kira's righteous justice; then he wouldn't have continued to play the game after the broadcast. There was no way for L to find him without Light drawing him in—the Death Note is literally the perfect murder weapon. Light knew this, he just ignored it because he wanted to play.

• In the same vein: Yotsuba Light doesn't know he's playing the game. He's forgotten that there even is a game, and so he sees L as someone who's been duped, who either isn't as intelligent as he's been made out to seem, or someone who's being purposefully cruel just because he can. Either way, to Yotsuba Light, L's threat level has only increased, because Light no longer has any sort of weapon to go against him with. He can't even wield his own innocence against him, because his innocence is not certain. Even to himself. Yotsuba Light knows that he has to play along with L's plays of friendship and morality in order to secure his freedom, but he does not respect L or like him. At least, not until near the end, where they're closing in on Higuchi. Where his freedom seems closer....and yet he sees his own, true innocence as more tenuous than ever. Notably, even when Light feels positively towards L there, he still does not share his suspicions about himself with him. His own life still takes precedence over any sort of justice or morality he might have, because Yotsuba Light is still Light. And Light will always put his own self-interests first.

• After killing L, something interesting happens. Because the game ends, but Kira is still left. And Light was willing to take risks and make wild plans in his game with L, but Kira's goals always, always came after his own life. And when only Kira's goals are left, Light stops taking those big, potentially lethal risks. (i.e. bomb desk trap, killing Raye Penber in person by handing him pages of the Death Note, killing Naomi Misora in person right in front of the police station, writing Higuchi's name while sitting right beside L with the murder weapon literally in his hand, etc. etc.). Winning the game was worth dying for—Kira's ideals are not. Or, to put it even more simply: His pride is worth dying for, but his morals are not. Five years after his victory against L, he's presented with another game, but instead of feeling fearful and excited as he did with L, Light is angry. Arrogant and angry. Because this isn't a game to these opponents, as it was to L—they're playing against each other, and Light is merely a piece in it. This game is not like his game with L; it's more like his "game" with the criminals of the world. One with no true challenge, just another defense of Kira's world—worth winning, but not worth dying for.

• Light's pride is more important to him than anything. He needs to be able to take pride in himself and his actions. Pride comes before everything else, before Kira, before family, before L, even before his own desires and physical health. He does not enjoy killing—he just turned it into something he could be proud of. Into another mastering of craft. Light is not particularly sadistic, he's just spiteful. He'll only take pleasure in someone's suffering if they make someone else suffer first, especially if that someone is him. Attacking his pride would count as making him suffer, because that's the most important thing in the world to him. Even though Light also values his life incredibly highly, attempting to kill him wouldn't invoke as much hell-hot wrath as attempting to humiliate him would. And Light will always get even. Always. He does not forgive and forget.

• He believes every lie he tells himself. Every. Lie. He is a Good Man. He is Good Son. He is a Savior. He is Better. He is NOT Evil, he is Good. He's incredibly adept at not only fooling other people, but fooling himself. Even if he's vaguely aware of the truth, he'll take great pains to make sure that truth never comes to light—because it would crush him.

• Light does not take his own desires into account. If he likes or wants something that contradicts with the perfect image he's crafted, he purges it from his mind. Makes excuses for why he doesn't need it, or even convinces himself very thoroughly that he didn't even want it in the first place. If it's not something he can be proud of (or convince himself to be proud of), he doesn't allow himself to desire it.

• Light sees everyone as beneath him (family notwithstanding, Light loves his family deeply), and while it's a pyramid scale of how far beneath him they are, it's not actually ranked by things like gender, sexuality, race—it's ranked by morality and intelligence. The more intelligent and moral you are, the higher up you are on the scale. Light feeling hostile towards someone does not always mean he sees them as further down beneath him; with L and Misa specifically, it means that they're a threat. Light tends to only see people near the top of the intelligence pyramid as threats; evidenced by him dismissing Matsuda completely even with the knowledge that Matsuda was a marksmen, and yet him immediately setting out to kill Naomi when he found out she figured out one of Kira's secrets. With Takada and Mikami, he treats them exactly the same as each other because they're both on the same level of the scale—and he didn't hesitate to get rid of either of them. (Or try to get rid of, in Mikami's case). Everyone is either a tool, a threat, a criminal, a citizen, or family to him. People to use (tool, criminal), people to serve and/or placate (citizen, family), and people to eliminate (threat, criminal). Everyone falls into at least one of these categories for him.

• Light Yagami is a tragic character. And he's a tragic character because he refuses to believe he's part of a tragedy. He would rather swallow broken glass than be considered a victim of anything.

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

i can’t really explain this properly but suguru is a “you’re mine, and i’m yours” kinda guy while satoru is just “i’m yours”….. do u get what i’m saying.

[euphor1a]

Comfort sex with Jungkook

thirst drabbles (10/∞)

fandom » bts

pairing » jungkook x f!reader

rating » 18+ (minors dni!)

genre » smut, established relationship.

word count » ~ 670

warnings » mentions astraphobia (fear of thunder), profanity, very light dom/sub undertones, unprotected sex, implied cockwarming, praising, slow sex, creampie, lmk if i missed anything!

The thunderstorm seems to intensify more as you find yourself cradled in your boyfriend’s arms; your bodies connected together. You shriek under him, the deafening sound of yet another lightning strike paralyzing you from fear.

“Oh baby, it’s alright. It won’t hurt you. I’m right here, focus on me, on us.”

You nod silently, sighing when he starts moving again. Jungkook lets his lips caress over your cleavage, overwhelmed by the way your warm, snug, gummy walls clench around his cock. His pace is gentler than ever, his length filling you up to the hilt and sliding back, warmth bubbling inside your chest. 

During all these years of your life, you’ve always been terrified of thunderstorms, especially of thunder. The ear splitting sound, the sudden bolt of light – it induces so much fear in you. But, for the first time, you’re feeling safe and loved with the slow rocking of his hips.

“You feel so good, sweetheart.” Jungkook whispers hotly in your ear. Your hazy, drooping eyes admire him in the dim light illuminating your shared bedroom. He looks so ethereal with some of his hair sticking to his forehead, honeyed skin glistening with perspiration. All the strong muscles of his built form flex to keep him hovering over you; his thrusts controlled, slow and steady. 

You can’t help but wonder how lucky you are to have him as your lover. No cause, you genuinely couldn’t ask for someone better to be by your side. As if he knows what you’re thinking about, Jungkook leans down to kiss you, your mouth opening up for him. Your soft moan encourages him to explore further, your tongues tangling together in their own dance of passion.

The kiss is all-consuming, setting your nerve endings on fire. Pressing into him more, you try to grind against his pelvis needily, seeking friction where you most want it. Jungkook immediately complies, his fingers finding your swollen clit and rubbing it in tight circles.

“Fuck, please…” Your breathless whisper is almost inaudible due to the heavy raining outside. But, he heard you – loud and clear.

He picks up the pace ever so slightly, his cock hitting all those sensitive spots deep inside your cunt. It makes you delirious. Burying your face in his shoulder, you bite down on his flesh in an attempt to hold yourself together. Jungkook hisses in pleasure, his member stimulating your g-spot and cervix with each of his deep thrusts. 

“Goddamn it, baby!” Jungkook grunts, his thumb pressing onto your sensitive bundle of nerves. He can sense that you’re close, sweet pussy clenching around him more often. “You’re doing so well, angel. Come for me.” You blindly pull him in for a kiss, muffling your moans and whimpers. The squelching sound of your and his body meeting over and over echoes through the room, making him groan.

You feel the pleasure coil in your lower belly tightening dangerously, snapping within moments. As the ecstasy crashes over you, Jungkook hisses, halting his movements for a split second to revel in the feeling of you clamping down onto his girth. You cry out his name, a string of incoherent words leaving you.

His thrusts turn fast and sloppy as he chases his own release after you. “Don’t pull out, please.” You whine, pussy walls clenching around his twitching cock. Tears gather in your eyes, your sensitivity making his movements feel more overwhelming. 

After a while, Jungkook finally reaches his own high with a low growl. He spills his seed deep inside you, thick ropes of his cum painting your walls white. You moan simultaneously, his spent body falling on top of you. 

“I love you so much,” you whisper, wrapping your arms around him. His rapid heartbeat slows down as he catches his breath, lips pressing kisses on every inch of your skin within his reach. 

“I love you too, angel.” Jungkook nuzzles your neck endearingly. The rain outside has slowed down, the soft pitter-patter of it on the windows coaxing a sigh out of him.

˗ˏˋ꒰ 💌 author’s notes ꒱

to celebrate the official release of still with you <3, a song that holds an enormous amount of significance to me. also, it’s monsoon over here, making it even more meaningful ❤️‍🩹! thank you so much for reading <33!! i hope you enjoyed it 🥺! apologies for any mistakes left in there!

consider leaving a reblog or a comment to let me know what you think of this!! feedback through asks will be appreciated too! support your local writers, it keeps us motivated to create and share 🌸!

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[clownsuu]

I finally have some free time to draw sketches and tell you about my headcannons with (young) Harvey and Dr. Stone!! 💥💥

The first headcanon: Harvey really likes to touch Stone's funny sticking-out hair with his antennae (I have no idea what to call it lol). OF COURSE, Dr. Stone gets angry, and Harvey just giggles and watches him—

The second headcanon: I thought it would be funny if Dr. Stone had (and maybe still has) a secret hobby of collecting minerals and stones. it's pretty funny that a sullen and angry dude collects and examines all sorts of stones, and then writes something in his book, muttering something under his nose. if Harvey somehow found out about his husband's hobby, he could throw him beautiful stones while he was going somewhere.

The third headcanon: Harvey loves hugging Dr. Stone very much, when he does this, this old fart immediately starts to get angry and swear, but after 15-20 minutes calms down and falls asleep. maybe Harvey does this on purpose so that his husband at least sometimes gets a full sleep

(not) Old people,,,,

[sophsun1]

Queer As Folk – 2.02: All Better Now