#aaaAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[hexiquin]

Bitches realizing that they have to wait a week to watch the yohaji episode cause they refuse to pay for premium and they had to go to sleep before they could join the watch party:

(That's me, I'm bitches)

[grave-ng]

where he belongs

[ivelte]

I love SO MUCH @kianamaiartmaiart "i don't want to be a magical girl" concept and characters and i needed to draw them with my own magical girls ! >w<

[yooboobies]

insane actually

[menaathena]

I finally read the Lost Legends gf comics and I have to talk about this panel because

What do you MEAN Soos instantly recognizes the sound of Stan sobbing. WHAT DO YOU MEAN. Stan always tries to put on a front; we know he isn't knowingly crying openly in front of Soos. How many times has he been not just crying, but SOBBING, alone, that Soos has still managed to accidentally overhear it that often. I'M GOING TO CHEW THROUGH A TREE. I'M GOING TO BE ILL

[pollyanna-nana]

One of the most tragic and compelling aspects of Dunmeshi, to me, is that we’ll probably never know (unless Kui tells us lol) how Delgal actually felt about Thistle. I’ve seen people say that he genuinely cared for him as a brother and his journey to the surface was to save him from his madness as much as it was his people. I’ve seen people say that he saw Thistle as nothing more than a fancy accessory or tool that ended up going astray. Others I’ve seen (and personally agree with) say that the truth lies somewhere in the middle. But honestly, I think any one of these interpretations has the potential to be correct… and that’s just heartbreaking.

After all, Delgal is dead. Like, dead-dead. The very first chapter of the manga starts with his spirit leaving this mortal coil, taking that answer with him. And…

How he talks about Thistle here… it’s interesting. He does not ask for him to be talked down, or captured or imprisoned, but instead “defeated”. Which Mithrun interprets as asking for his death… which is reasonable, because that’s likely how the vast majority of adventurers interpreted his words, too. Obviously as he was crumbling to dust he probably didn’t have the capacity to be particularly verbose or explain the complex backstory to how the kingdom ended up this way, but the effect is the same no matter how he may have felt with it. He asked for Thistle to be killed.

But… even in situations where he wasn’t under any such time limit to explain what was going on, he still seemed not to. Most glaringly:

Yaad seemingly has no idea that it was Delgal’s fault that Thistle sought the demon’s power. Obviously he couldn’t talk to him about it because Thistle was, uh, a little out there by that point, but why didn’t Delgal explain? Was he embarrassed? Mournful? Couldn’t find the words?

Delgal was scared of dying. He wanted prosperity at any cost, and how could Thistle possibly refuse? Did he even realize that what he was the one who pushed his own brother— One who basically helped raise him despite being a child himself, and in many ways is still a child— down this path? Or was it like watching an overzealous employee misinterpret directions?

The way Yaad describes things here makes it sound like Thistle simply dug too deep in his studies and fell into madness, but we know that’s not true. Delgal didn’t “suggest” he learn magic, he wanted a mage who could help himself and his people defy death, which he admits to Thistle openly:

So, why? Why not tell his grandson, at least, the truth of the matter? Did he worry it might make the remaining residents more likely to upset Thistle, and therefore suffer the consequences? Did he just not care? For what it’s worth though, Yaad does suspect the truth from Delgal’s behavior.

He “always blamed himself” for his descent into the dark arts. This is just Yaad’s observation, and that’s without knowing that it was quite literally Delgal’s fault Thistle went down this path. So, why? Why was it all kept a secret?

Of course, this made things ripe for the winged lion to manipulate to its advantage. Clearly despite knowing he’d pushed him into using it, Delgal still thought the lion was a force of good that was misused by Thistle as a result of his madness. His face in that last panel is particularly haunting. He looks terrible, gaunt and pale with overgrown hair and missing teeth. Had he gone mad, with grief and sorrow, as well?

Could he no longer see Thistle the way he did when they were younger? No one can ask him, because he died long before the story even began.

To go back to the original question, well, how did Delgal see Thistle? None of the previous points make a definitive answer any clearer, and I think that’s just brilliant. And so, so tragic.

[arttsuka]

This scene is always in my mind

They make me sick get them out of my head NOW!

[conspicuous-clown-car]

AAAAAAAAAUUUGGHHHHH

themb ;w;

[a-grayscale]

I know it’s been a long while, but I gotta ask: Did seriously no one else notice that Narinder’s third eye is looking at Lamb’s ass in the Lunar new year poster?

Like, SIR. You are not subtle. I see you, I see you.

[3xtatical]

SOME DOODLES I'VE RECENTLY DONE!! YAYYY Also guys im so sorry i keep changing my blog's name. Im actually indecisive af between ∑ckstatical and mp∑x >:( AGH WHY ARE NAMES NOT NAMING UDFHVJDEKDFGB also can we all agree trophy in a dress is just slay.

[thatdamhobbit]

Not my meme, but I feel like it’s more relevant than ever!

[stxrysnow]

— your wounds make me bleed.

synopsis. you, being the oh so powerful sorcerer you are, did not even realise the extent of your injuries until you found out that you couldn't stand without the support of something— after defeating the curse, of course. shoko's busy, so, satoru, being the gentleman he is (and also the strange source of comfort you have) decides to take matters in his own hands— while being a pain in the ass, obviously.

however, you joking about your death does not help— and satoru's carefree façade manages to slip, bringing back some memories he had tried to forget.

genres/themes. satoru gojo x reader, hurt/comfort, satoru and reader are highschool friends (frenemies ?), satoru and reader bicker a lot, satoru being a menace, reader is also a menace (lmaoo), mentions of blood (reader is injured), mentions of satoru's past, reader comforts satoru.

jiah’s notes. i miss him so much that it physically hurts me. send help LMAOO—

word count. 1.8k

“tsk. and here i thought that you could take care of yourself, at least,” the white-haired man tuts, and you feel yourself roll your eyes to the back of your head for god-knows-what time again— and that of course earns a smirk from him. “how disappointing. and ah, don’t roll your eyes so much. you might just have a view of your non-existent brain and pass out on me. jeez, i wouldn’t want you to dirty my couch.”

“how fascinating to hear that you care about something, satoru,” your voice feigns bewilderment— a simply amazed look in your eyes as you heave a blissful sigh. “at least you’re not as heartless as i thought. hang on there, expensive leather couch.”

“so you’re admitting you’d pass out, and the fact that you don’t have a brain,” satoru huffs out a laugh, finding amusement in the way you let out a small ‘tsk’ of annoyance.

something about satoru comforts you.

no, it isn’t the comfort that people idealise— no physical contact, no silly gifts or acts of service— it was his mere presence that soothed you, while irritating you at the same time. every word that flowed between you two was either a sugary sweet taunt or a blunt insult— yet, you two found solace in each other in a way that was beyond the comprehension of everyone around you.

including you two.

“if not having a brain will make me cope with your ass, then so be it,” a small smirk tugs at the corner of your lips as you watch satoru wrap the bandage in a firm, yet gentle grip around your arm, relishing in the way his eye twitches and his usual shit-eating grin widens in annoyance.

“at least i didn’t get my ass handed back to me by a grade one curse,” the man lets out a scoff. “seriously, how do you even get this beaten-up?”

“hey, ’t wasn’t my fault i only noticed my blood after defeating it,” you say, shifting your position on that damn couch of his, as you felt a sudden urge to fidget with something, “at least it got exorcised.”

“sure,” satoru says, and you swear you could feel him rolling his eyes even through the confines of his blindfold, “very impressive. at least it got exorcised.”

hearing him say those— your— particular words in that mocking, sing-song voice makes an irritated scowl break out into your face, and oh how it makes satoru smile so smugly— making you want to curse the hell out of this menace of a sorcerer.

“you’re applying too much pressure, dumbass,” you mutter, trying not to wince as his fingers tightened the bandages which covered the skin of your hands.

satoru raises a brow, tightening them even more. “deal with it,” he deadpans. “ ’s your fault, ya know? if i keep it loose you’ll start to bleed. again. over my couch.”

the damned couch again.

honestly? you knew that he couldn’t give lesser shits about the furniture, and that he was just saying that to piss you off. and what was even more infuriating was that it was working.

really, years of experience with satoru gojo had changed nothing— and everything in your feelings towards him.

“get it over with the couch, will ya?” it’s your turn to let out an annoyed scoff, which undoubtedly makes the sorcerer let out a snicker of his own.

“sometimes i wonder how you even ended up becoming a sorcerer,” satoru wraps a band-aid around your scratched fingers, “thought you’d leave the job and become a farmer or somethin’, y’know.”

“unlike you, i had spent too much of an effort in the projects yaga gave us in highschool, so there’s no way i’d let it go in vain,” you shake your head, “it would be too embarrassing.”

besides, you’d rather die than see satoru’s laughing face if you ever decided to change your profession just because you weren’t able to handle a curse or two.

“you never change, do you?” satoru huffs out a laugh, and oh god if he didn’t wipe that agonizing smirk off his face within the next second, you’d gladly do the honours— if only you weren't in so much pain, though, “always so damn reckless. it’s a miracle you have me to tend to your wounds, or else just where you be?”

“dead, most probably,” you say with sarcasm dripping down your words, expecting a scoff of amusement in response— but it never came.

you tear your gaze away from the dried gash on your arm to meet satoru's piercing, piercing stare— it was really a wonder how that guy manages to make you feel his eyes bearing into the depths of your soul even though you couldn't quite actually see them because of the shield his blindfold created.

satoru feels a whirl of emotions in him— eyebrows furrowing ever so slightly, and you just know that he is not, in fact, amused.

not even in the slightest.

his heart is racing— and if he had his blindfold off, you’d see how his usually bright, azure eyes had a darkened glint in them— something which just screamed out the fact that he was unsettled, uncontrolled— afraid.

as the tense seconds pass, he gives you a little glare, his expression hardening.

“. . that’s not funny,” he utters, before averting his gaze down to your arm. his efficient hands wrap the gauze around your limb almost in a mechanical movement— the little frown never leaving his face, lips pressed into a thin line.

oh.

your gaze softens, watching the sorcerer quietly tend to your wounds, noticing how his gaze lingers on a particularly deep gash on your leg— how his fingers tremble ever so slightly when his touch stays on the burn for a little too long— you notice it, of course you do.

he's thinking about suguru again.

there wasn't quite a time when he didn't— at least he didn’t show it to anyone. but you, you see him for who he is— the lonely man who’s just wanted some love, and not just the title of being ‘the strongest’— the man who still yearns for his best friend to come back, even though he's . . . gone.

you always see through him.

you should've considered your words before joking about something like that, really.

no matter how much of an annoying bastard satoru may be to you, but still, he was satoru to you. not 'the strongest', not the guy who always had that stupid smile plastered on his face at all times, not the guy whom the world saw as undefeatable— no, he was something much, much more.

you watch his tense demeanour threaten to consume him alive— how his hands shake no matter how much he tries to make them steady, how his shoulders go rigid when they were usually slumped carelessly, how his bottom lip quivers— it was just a tiny movement, yet you manage to see.

how could you not see earlier that you words would've affected him? god, you felt so stupid.

“ . . hey,” hearing the soft tone in your voice makes something inside satoru snap— raising his head to forcefully avert his gaze from your injuries to your face— heart beating so loud that he’s unsure whether you wouldn’t have noticed.

but then again, you were you, and satoru was, well . . . satoru.

his eyes widen— seeing you open your arms with that soft, apologetic smile— and before the sorcerer knows, he’s burying his nose into the crook of your neck, arms wrapped tight around your injured frame; his lower body on the floor as he nuzzles into your arms on the couch.

most people would’ve hesitated, casted him a wary look of disbelief— the satoru gojo, reduced to a trembling mess just because someone joked about their death? the satoru gojo, who still blames himself for his best friend’s death? the satoru gojo, who’s known as ‘the strongest’— being vulnerable?

indeed, it is the satoru gojo, clinging onto you like a lifeline, large hands of his gripping you so tightly that he's afraid that you might disappear the moment his hold loosens.

your satoru.

arms wrapped around his neck as you shush him, bandaged fingers running through his snowy white strands whilst his shoulders shake— oh how you regretted saying that.

“ . . i hate it when you say stuff like that,” he mutters, and if you didn’t have a knack for noticing subtle things about it, you wouldn’t have seen a barely audible crack in his voice.

“ ’m sorry,” you say in a quiet, soothing tone, pulling away a bit to stare at his face, and god did your heart wrench— satoru's bottom lip was red from him biting on them so much.

gingerly, one of your hands unlatches itself from around his neck, going to gently slip under the hem of his blindfold — as you slowly pull it down, revealing those mystical eyes of his— so terrified that you feel the fear radiating off him.

he seems so, so vulnerable like this— a desperation and fright seizing his entire soul as he stares at you. you cup his cheeks, thumbs caressing his soft, warm skin.

“don’t . . . don’t joke about stuff like that,” he says in breathless, shaky whisper— eyebrows furrowing even more as his breath stutters, and from this moment on you swear to yourself to never say something like that again. not if it hurts satoru.

ever.

“i won’t,” you whisper, pressing your forehead against his, “ ’m sorry, satoru.”

you pull his head down so he’s laying it on your chest, arms wrapped around his neck as you massage his scalp soothingly.

satoru’s shoulders relax, his heart easing a bit from hearing your gentle tone, panicked eyes fluttering close as he lets out a small, shaky sigh, burying his face into your chest— so desperate for comfort, for some kind of reassurance that you are okay, that you won’t leave, that you’ll . . .

stay.

you run your hands through his fluffy locks, gently easing the tension that had accumulated within him with simple movements of your fingertips— earning a soft, relaxed sigh from him.

“keep doing that,” you hear him mutter, and you let out a hum in response, continuing to massage his scalp. “don’t . . . don’t stop. please.”

this is how two you seeked comfort from each other.

something that was beyond words— something that was beyond everyone.

including you two.

as you two lay on the couch— two souls craving reassurances from the other— time ticks by, but oh do you care? not even a bit.

“don’t leave me,” satoru whispers, and you find yourself letting out a murmur of approval, caressing his hair. “i was so scared, i can’t lose you too, i—”

“i’ll stay, satoru.”

and so, you do. as long as you’re here with satoru, he has nothing to fear.

as long as you stay.

☆ @stxrysnow on tumblr. do not copy or post any of my works without my permission.

[nothingbizzare]

Father and son moment

[nespyofire]

[rqgender]

EXTRA GENDER TODAY BECAUSE I JUST LISTENED TO THE FREAKING EPISODE FOR TODAY.

TODAY'S GENDER IS JONATHAN SIMS AND MARTIN BLACKWOOD.

[teddybeartoji]

bf!toru being the sweetest boyfriend ever whenever you're exhausted and clingy and needy. he'll try to make you sleep at first but he's weak to your whines and complains :( his baby can't sleep because they're too horny, surely he can do something about this right?

he'll either fuck you with his fingers, with his soft lips giving you sweet pecks on your face and neck while he coos at you, his long fingers stretching and curling at your sweet spot. that'll usually do the trick.

but if his baby wants more, who is he to say no?! he's sliding inside you, his warmth the perfect cure to that ache you're feeling :( he'll fuck you slowly and deeply, making sure you feel every drag of his cock.. if you're feeling it, he can even play with your nipples or clit too, but only if you aren't too exhausted. he doesn't want to push you too much after all. he's such a sweetheart </3

and then when you're out like a light after finishing once, he'll give you cuddles until you're all better again, and then he can fuck you 'properly' when you wake up all energized ^_^ i'm normal about him yes

18+ mdni; fem!reader

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM NONNIEE YOU'RE FUCKING INSANE I WANT YOUUUUUUUUUU oh it's all so fucking sweet and intimate too... satoru can't stop pressing kisses all over your face with a smile on his lips you're just so fucking cute:((((( his dick twitches at the soft little mewls that keep spilling from you, and you're just oh so fucking wet and warm around his fingers he can't get enough of you!!!!

he raises your leg as he has you on your side, his hips grinding into your in an almost painfully slow tempo... you're squirming, so desperate and needy for more and who's he to refuse you of anything? he loves you so fucking much. so while his lips are still locked onto the sensitive skin of your neck, he rubs his hard cock over your sticky folds and grins when you cry out his name.

"yeah, want toru to take care of you, hm?" his voice is raspy, all tired from his day but it's so fucking hot and you're weak for it; your nails dig into his forearms as he presses his tip to your hole. he presses it in only an inch before stopping, he wants to be a little mean - he wants to hear you whine for him some more but when he feels your own hand on top his, guiding his cock into you, he succumbs.

you both let out a moan at the same time, a perfect harmony as he sinks into your wet cunt. he goes all the way until his balls rest against your ass, his lips stuck to your skin as if you're the air he needs to breathe. as if you're the one thing he needs to survive. he doesn't want to let go.

the roll of his hips is slow, way slower than usual because he just want you both to feel all of it. his hand rests just above where you're connected with your own right on top of his and it's romantic. all you can hear is the slick sounds of his dick pushing inside you and his shallow breaths as he nibbles on your ear.

he's pressed flush against you, the warmth of his body just adding to the sensation of being filled to the brim and it doesn't take you long to reach your high. he fucks you through it with a sleepy smile on his face. he whispers words of love as you twitch in his arms, the letters of his name rolling from your tongue like a waterfall.

and when your breathing slows and you melt into him while he's still buried deep inside you, satoru's chest swells with pride and adoration. he stays nestled like that for some time; his fingers dance on your skin, carving little hearts into you like he's some teenager. he just can't help it...

and after he regains his compose and his ability to think, he pushes off the bed as cautiosly as he can as to not wake you from your slumber. he grabs a towel to clean you up before gently peeling your sweaty shirt from your body and changing that into a new one. and then he spends a good ten minutes just staring at you with a lovesick look on his face. he traces your features as you sleep - the bridge of your nose, the apples of your cheeks, your jaw. your lips. and then he presses a kiss to your forehead, the promise of a life time written into your skin, before plopping down into the bed with you. he holds you close just like he always does and drifts to dreamland with you by his side. he loves you so much<33333