#you can either kill or you can fuck. you can't have it both ways

[fox-daddy]

I have six Mc's broken down into the main trio and the secondary trio. I'm going to full out a form I found for my main trio of Mc's. (I would do all six but the form is long and also sorry it's so long.)

IT KEEPS TURNING RANDOM LETTERS BLACK SO PLESE PRETEND EACH CHARACTER'S PART IS ONE COLOR BECAUSE FUCK TUMBLR

First Name: Kyle Last Name: Boivin Gender: Trans-male Age: around 2 years younger than Asra Sexual Orientation: Pan Birthday: 2nd of February Main love interest; Asra Secondary love interest; Nadia Who they can be shipped with; Muriel, Portia, and Lucio Who they can't be shipped with; Julian

Appearance Eye Color(s): segmental heterochromia in both eyes. Making them look mostly blue with patches of bright green. Hair Color: bright red the same shade as Nazali Hair Style(s): similar to Asra but slightly less curly and more spikey Skin tone: closest to Muriel being only slightly lighter than his skin tone. However if you look closely you can see he has freckles of darker and lighter skin. With the darker freckles easier to see than the lighter ones you have to look closely to see. Body type: A mix between Portia and Muriel being slightly more on the chubby side but less so than Portia. (Which obligatory theirs nothing wrong with Portia's size she is great but this is for Kyle) Height:4'4

About him Personality: Kyle is genuinely a sweet person. However due to his height and his clothing choice he likes to act adorable and innocent. When in reality he is aware of what's going on way more than he lets on. Using his cute appearance and attitude to trick people into revealing more than they realize. Since he knows to be sweet and cute he also has to be able to defend himself from those who would love nothing more than to use him for their own gain. Hobbies: Reading, bird watching, animal watching, writing, magic and in general just learning new things Allergies: none Fear(s): pure darkness (like more so than normal nighttime darkness), being completely utterly alone (more than just being left alone in a house or shop), fire (which also fascinates him) and heights

Family and Friends Parent(s): Light (mum) (alive) and TBN(adoptive dad) (dead) Sibling(s): Silver (twin) (alive), Tui (adoptive older sister) (alive) and Albatross (adoptive older brother) (alive) Relative(s):  Jade (aunt) (dead) Best Friend(s): Hunter Friend(s): Bluebell, Hunter, and Fauna familiar(s): Kea named Kai and a dragon named Emerald. (Emerald can't breath anything being a species of dragon from Kyle's homeland)

Extra Scent: forest after rain, moist wood and rain Outfit(s): silver shirt/pants with yellow trim illusioned to look like gold Accessories: He usually carries a shoulder bag with a lot of items in it for daily use Scars: pair of scars on his shoulders that look like their from a giant bird because they are

Favorites Theme Song/Quote: Try again tomorrow Favorite Food(s): Pancakes and Blueberries Favorite Drink(s): Apple cider and applejuice Favorite Color(s): Purple/Green Favorite Animal(s): Dragons (crows) Favorite Number: 8 Favorite Season(s): Spring

First Name: Hunter Gender: They/them Age: between Julian and Portia Sexual Orientation: Bi Birthday: 20th August Main love interest; Muriel Secondary love interest; Julian Who they can be shipped with; Muriel, Portia, and Lucio Who they can't be shipped with; Nadia

Appearance Eye Color(s): blood red Hair Color: Black (dyed, naturally white) Hair Style(s): Long and straight Skin tone: a pale as you could possible be Body type: closest to Muriel Height: 5'4 Extra; They are an albino and yes I know red eyes isn't that accurate to humans and technically they should be blue but it looks cool so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Also I do have another albino Mc called Sora who makes up for this by having pale blue eyes

About them Personality: They have a lot of pent up anger since from an extremely young age they were taught how to fight and kill. Using those skills until they settled down in Vesuvia either as the Mc where they started to learn how to deal with that anger or where they used it to deal with problem customers in bars. Hobbies:(when the Mc carving, reading, making tea, magic) (When not the Mc fighting, drinking, defending the weak and those who refuse to defend themselves and putting people in their place.) Allergies: very mildly to sunlight (which doesn't help their already ungodly pale skin) Fear(s): blood

Family and Friends Parent(s): Never meet them (was sold when they were too young to remember) Best Friend(s): Kyle and Bluebell familiars(s): a goldfish named Goldy and a red-tailed black cockatoo named Ruby

Extra Scent: The best way to describe it is burning wood. A sort of smokey wood smell. Outfit(s): black clothes that cover as much skin as possible. Long shirt/pants/jacket. Think Julian if instead of leather gloves it was long sleeves and instead of leather boots it was long pants with sneakers. Accessories: A single necklace that looks like it's made of glass with their goldfish familiar inside it. (it is actually made of metal and just enchanted to look/feel like glass) Scars: Yes (I like to joke that every time you look at them the scars have changed but the important part is they are COVERED in scars head to toe no part of their body doesn't have scars)

Favorites Theme Song/Quote: All hail Shadow Favorite Food(s): dragonfruit Favorite Drink(s): (when Mc tea any tea) (when not the Mc vodka) Favorite Color(s): black Favorite Animal(s): Wolf Favorite Number: 69 (nice) Favorite Season(s): Winter

First Name: Bluebell Last Name: Snowfield Nickname: Blue, B Gender: They/them Age: a few years younger than Lucio (details unknown) Sexual Orientation: Bi Birthday: 1st of September Main love interest; Lucio Secondary love interest; Muriel Who they can be shipped with; Nadia, Julian, Portia, and Asra Who they can't be shipped with; nobody (They can be shipped with all the M6)

Appearance Eye Color(s): Bright blue Hair Color: Bright blue Hair Style(s): Long and messy (it's always messy) Skin tone: Basically the same as Portia Body type: Has almost the exact same build as Julian being all legs Height: 6'4 Extra; They have a pair of blue wings, tail with blue feathers at the end and if you took a normal human ear and an elf ear and made the difference up with blue feathers

About them; Personality: Bluebell is absolutely shy hating any attention put on them. Under that they are a sweet and caring person who basically acts like the mother of the group. Like(s): Animals, nature, healing Allergies: Mildly allergic to bee stings and alcohol (can still drink and get drunk they just get a bit red when they drink.) Fear(s): insects and spiders

Family and Friends Parent(s): refuses to say if they have parents (they do) Sibling(s): Has no idea if they have siblings Best Friend(s): Hunter, Kyle and Fauna Familiars(s): a house sparrow called Chirps

Extra Scent: They smell like anxiety Outfit(s): Blue (dresses, long shirts/pants all blue) Scars: Due to their incredibly strong healing magic they don't have scars

Favorites Theme Song/Quote: Tobu - If I Disappear (stg this song is more them than the other's theme songs omfg this is Bluebell) Favorite Food(s): bread Favorite Drink(s): water Favorite Color(s): Blue (shocker I know) Favorite Animal(s): Can't pick one Favorite Number: 3 Favorite Season(s): autumn

Show me your mcs

I haven't been in the fandom for a while but I'm curious if it's still active around her or not (? So, if you have them, please show me your mc /ocs and tell me a little bit about them 🙏🏼🥹

This is mine, here name is Serein and that big bear is her familiar, Ursan. Her LI is Asra and she's a healer.

[aingeal98]

Arcane spoilers and musing

It's so interesting to me that Vi and Jinx are both not big picture people, always focused on their loved ones around them, meanwhile everyone else in the cast from Ekko to Cait to Mel have ideals and ambitions to shape society. Vi and Jinx are both aware of their place in society of course and they have thoughts and feelings about it, but it's not what drives them for 99% of the story. Jinx blows up a bridge full of enforcers and hums the song she sang to distract herself when years ago on the very same bridge enforcers killed her parents. And yet she wouldn't be doing any of it if not to get the gemstone back, which she only really wants as a means to prove to Silco that she can be strong and useful and deserving of her place by his side. Her drive is all personal and focused on the people around her, the karmic retribution towards the enforcers is a nice bit of icing on the cake.

Similarly Vi grew up hating and resenting topside but the one time she lead others in a decision to steal from them the resulting domino effect left her so weighed down by guilt that she has spent the rest of her life desperately trying to protect her loved ones from more hurt and harm and either failing or getting rejected by said loved ones every time. She is driven by guilt and the determination to make things right and being unable to see beyond that has now left her with no one and nothing. She was living for Powder and Powder said I'm a monster called Jinx now that you created. She was living to stop that monster and make things right for Caitlyn because Jinx deliberately kidnapped Cait due to her bond with Vi, and that led her to ignore every red flag and cross every moral line only to get rejected by Cait anyways. She can't go back to Ekko after what she and the enforcers did. She has no one now.

And their S2 arcs are so interesting to me because Vi finally hits rock bottom, zero hope, and now has to find a reason to start living for herself. Her decision to just make a living fighting and drinking away the pain makes so much sense but I'm so curious how they're going to get her out of that pit of self loathing and depression.

Meanwhile Jinx has accidentally tripped her way into becoming a revolutionairy symbol due to personal hijinxs and spite. Which is amazing. You never focused on the greater implications of your actions and harmed your community for years but congrats you're an inspiration and a figurehead now. You mean something on your own. There's no one person, Vi or Silco or Mylo, who you need to prove yourself to. Everyone is now determined to prove themselves to be like YOU. How do you handle that?

(sidenote if I was Ekko I would be so salty like what do you mean I spent years actually helping my community with a vision for a better Zaun fighting against both Silco and enforcers, and these two sisters who I know for a fact are nowhere near as committed to Zaun as I am and have both actively harmed citizens accidentally spark a revolution while working out family drama. Cool cool cool fuck you all I'm inventing time travel.)

[astr-venus]

｡⁠☆Early｡⁠.ﾟ⁠+⁠ 

｡⁠☆Cw: suggestive, she/her, black reader, swearing

Katsuki came home from work early today. Not that you were aware. You, who's still in the middle of cooking dinner while blasting some song that Katsuki can't understand. It's melodic, smooth, and so so sensual. Katsuki may not be able to understand the English song lyrics, but just from the sound he can get the gist.

You don't have the best singing voice in your own opinion, but Katsuki is entranced just from the sound of it carrying through your shared home. He feels like he's floating as slowly follows the melody through the house, not bothering to take off anything except his shoes. He completely skips past the bedroom as well, uncomfortable clothes be damned, all he can think about is seeing you.

It's like a weight lifted when you enter his sight, and simultaneously a brick is placed in his chest. He just barely peaks around the corner, not wanting to interrupt your gentle singing, nor your sybaritic dancing.

It's not like he's never seen you dance before, and by no means are you genuinely shy — plus with enough liquor in your system anything is possible — but it's different seeing you in your element. He can't control how thickly he swallows, or the heat rushing in his chest and his cheeks. He fears he resembles some sort of stupid looking tomato, and god it's so embarrassing how worked up he still gets just from looking at you. He feels like an idiotic high schooler who can't keep it in his pants. Fuck, he feels so full of disgustingly mushy emotions he doesn't know what to do with it all. Katsuki swears he'll kill you if you don't get to him first.

He swallows again watching you rub your hands up your body as you whine your hips in the air. The stove lighting feels more like a spotlight as he stares, your brown skin seeming to glisten in the yellow-orange glow. He has half a mind to just wander into your bedroom and relieve himself before you even know he's home, but tearing his eyes away feels like a crime.

With a flourish you swing your hair around, giggling at yourself when the stiff parts of your curls barely move an inch. You let out a shriek when you finally catch Katsuki standing in the door way, one of the knives you used to chop vegetables seeming to magically appear in your hands. Call Katsuki crazy if you want to, but he can feel his body practically catch on fire when the tip of your knife just barely catches his Adams apple.

What can he say. It's hot as fuck that you know how to protect yourself, whether you're a prohero or not. If he has to go out this way, surrounded by the smell of the dinner his girlfriend cooked him, her eyes glinting with something both powerful and dangerous, well he'd say he must have some damn good karma. Fuck all that dying as a martyr shit, this is the best way to be sent to the grave by far.

"Katsuki..." You sigh, panic easing out of your muscles as you lower the knife. "You can't scare me like that."

Katsuki scowls, trying to hide the real reason his face is burning. "Shut the fuck up. You're the one waving that shit around. What have I told you about situational awareness, dumbass?"

He regrets his words as soon as your little frown over takes your features. He may have been a little harsh, damn it. It didn't even help either, his whole body still feels like it's on fire.

"Bad day at work, Katsu?"

You put the knife back on the counter, and bring your hands up to his face, because of course you do. Katsuki is already having a hard time keeping himself in check, and now you have to look at him with your stupid fucking sweet soft eyes. His chest feels like it's caving in on itself you're just making it worse. The worst part about it, is he even kind of likes it. God fucking damn it.

Katsuki places his hand behind your head and shoves your face into his chest, not able to look you in the eye when you're staring so tenderly. Your hands move downwards to rest on his back, allowing both of you to hold each other close. Katsuki scoffs.

"Didn't I tell you to shut the fuck up?"

You giggle, and Katsuki decides for the who-knows-how-many-th time that he wants to hear that sound for the rest of his life. He doesn't know what he would do without your stupid fucking smile.

Woohoo !! Second post !!

Katsuki feels so much cuteness aggression that he literally gets a hard on. That's it. That's the fic.

I would say "someone save his poor soul 😔" but I fear you are what salvation looks like to him so there'd be no point.

｡⁠☆Requests open

[columboscreens]

[howtostartafight]

You really thought you did something? That uno reverse card is pointless (and dumb) when all of your points are untrue and don't even have a basis in canon. The Jedi (as written by Lucas) have never justified or even perpetuated a genocide and I have no idea where you are even getting your information when it is so blatantly untrue. (Anakin and Dooku were both no longer Jedi when they committed the atrocities that they did.) The Jedi don't even use violence as their first choice, they're diplomats first and foremost. They even offered Palpatine the option of surrendering before he killed Saesae, Agen, and Kit and Mace realized he was too dangerous to be kept alive.

The Jedi are not a cult by any definition, they don't brainwash anyone and they certainly don't force anyone to stay a Jedi. Dooku himself left the Order with no contest and even remained in contact with people there because they loved him and still thought of him as a friend even though he didn't want to be a Jedi anymore. And what "dark & unnatural families" are you even talking about???? Jedi come from all over. Dooku was a noble, Feemor was a farmer's son, Quinlan was royalty, Aayla was a slave, A'Sharad was a legendary Jedi's son. The Jedi came from all over and your attempt to generalize is sad. The Jedi don't need to "fix" anyone, they teach them the ways of the Jedi and if that doesn't fit with how the child wants to lead their life, they can join the Jedi Service Corps or, y'know, go home???? They don't even kidnap kids, the parents have every right to refuse. Hell, Quinlan's parents DID refuse and Tholme only taught him when he was younger because of how strong his psychometry was. Quin was never supposed to join the order, but his parents were killed by his aunt and then his aunt tortured him, and it wasn't safe for him to be on his home planet anymore. Jedi aren't hive-minded either, the Jedi Code is literally up for interpretation by members and they're aware they have differing interpretations

You also can't fucking remake the definition of genocide just because you feel like it??? A genocide is, by definition, "the deliberate and systematic destruction of a racial, political, or cultural group." The Jedi were most definitely a culture and their genocide was planned for over a thousand years, so definitely deliberate and systematic. The Jedi don't mold children to their box, because there's no single, perfect way to be a Jedi. They teach mindfulness and self-discipline, they value knowledge, balance, and teaching. They aren't victims of circumstance, their deaths were orchestrated and planned for and, again, a GENOCIDE. The Jedi were quite literally the most open minded people in the galaxy, they were inter-galactic diplomats and peacekeepers. There is no way they would have been able to do their job if they weren't open minded and considerate of other cultures.

Sure I'll give you that maybe the Sith weren't based on Nazis, but you can't say that Palpatine's (Nazi based) Empire is separate. Palpatine is a fucking Sith???? He is the culmination of over a thousand years of planning and manipulation. He IS what the Sith wanted. He and his Empire aren't separate from the Sith, the Sith RAN the Empire. He created it, he defined it, and he is exactly what the Sith dreamed of. Complete and utter power and control over the galaxy. The Jedi weren't even remotely similar to Nazis, they welcomed differences (including religions, so many Jedi practiced their homeworlds religion) and had the most diverse range of sentients in their ranks. They didn't even have to hide behind a halo, they knew they weren't perfect, because they were only human, and strived to simply be the best they could.

The Sith's core beliefs were not "self-empowerment and personal freedom"?????? Where did you even get that idea?? Self-empowerment literally means "making meaningful choices and positive change" and not a single change the Sith ever made was positive. Yes, the Sith were founded by a former Jedi, who wanted more knowledge and POWER through the dark side. They were driven by their hatred, anger, and greed for more than what they had. They spent a thousand years planning for a galactic takeover, they started a war for it, and began their takeover with a genocide. No sensible Sith was focused on survival, they literally killed each other to further their own power when the other showed weakness.

Sith concepts are the opposite of great??? They kill each other to further their power, which is part of the reason they fell (because of all the infighting). I have no idea where you got the idea that Jedi think people "need their saving" and "who you are is bad and wrong" because it's insane. The amount of differences welcomed and cherished by the Jedi compared to the Sith?? The Jedi openly allowed their members to practice their homeworlds religions and cultures (Bariss, Luminara, Shaak-Ti, and Ahsoka all do off the top of my head). Sure you may feel that way about the Sith, but that just signals to me that something about Star Wars was fundamentally misunderstood by you, because every time the Sith appear on screen, they do something AWFUL. (Genocide, murder, torture comes to mind).

Yea I know the Sith were former Jedi. Former Jedi who became fanatics and started millenia of suffering. They also left the Jedi themselves, the Jedi didn't "throw them away". They rejected their new practices because they were dangerous and built their empire on the backs of slaves and suffering.

Jedi were peace-loving warrior-monks. They spent their lives fighting for democracy and equality. If you had bothered to do your research, you'd know that both the Sith and the Jedi were based on "knighthood, chivalry, paladinism, samurai bushido, Shaolin Monastery, Feudalism, Hinduism, Qigong, Greek philosophy and mythology, Roman history and mythology, Sufism, Confucianism, Shintō, Buddhism and Taoism, and numerous cinematic precursors." Please point to where on that list Catholicism and Nazis fall. I beg of you to give me one good example of how the Jedi are inspired by either of those things. Just saying it is never going to make anyone believe you. And point me to where the Jedi were systemic liars, because I can point you to where the Sith were.

I am very far from media illiterate. Lucas wrote the Jedi as the good guys. Therefore, they are the good guys. It wasn't shades of gray where the Sith were right sometimes and the Jedi were right others. The Jedi were warrior-monks who kept the peace for centuries. I know exactly what I'm talking about. I have citations and proof. You do not. You have not given me a single example of your claims.

I didn't even call you either of those things, please get checked for cataracts. Don't even know where you got the idea that I was a weird church kid or I tell people they're "going to burn in hell" but honestly you clearly make illogical assumptions all the time so I'm not shocked.

order 66 was NOT a genocide. you can only genocide people & cultures, you can’t genocide a systemically deified super-religion that wants everyone in existence to either agree with them & exist their way or burn in hell for eternity. any decent ppl who went down with the purge forfeit their lives down the drain along with their family, home & very sense of self. they. had. it. fucking. coming.

from an indigenous person, fuck y’all for even comparing order 66 to genocide & talking all over survivors of real genocides to save face for your evangelical faith & the people you think are good guys. you are not about to disrespect the continent-sized OCEANS of blood that make up our ancestors & loved ones who were lost to real genocide. fuck off.

[butts-bouncing-on-the-beltway]

I feel like the post I just reblogged pointing out the all-or-nothing in how many people interact with their deconstruction of systems of oppression is resonating for me right now with so many different moments in my life where someone decides that because some part of myself has access to some of the levers of control/influence/etc that come with the relationship to power, and decides what that must mean about all the other parts of me that might be explicitly refused access to those same levers.

It has happened in so many spaces/aspects of my life, and it can be so hard to feel safe and seen and trusting of others when that's my chronic relationship to being perceived - half truths and obfuscation.

It doesn't really change regardless of who's doing the assuming either. Like, where they land in relation to systems of power may influence which direction they lean in their assumptions about me, but even that is often inconsistent. Both sides of the equation (those who share my marginalizations and those who exist in spaces of closer proximity to power) will still do it nonetheless.

When I was doing my liminal social identities work in undergrad, this was actually a big part of the conceptualization we explored of traumtic alienation of self as individual from self as collective, and what it can do to people to exist in this liminal relationship with your environment and the people in it. As I'm starting to gather my thoughts about my stress modeling, this conceptualization is bubbling back to the surface. I'm finding myself meandering through it on both a path specifically my own, and in an effort to better understand what other paths may be available to people during their version of the process/experience.

Selfhood is so fragile, and so in need of balance between self-construction and co-construction for us humans, and that gives us so many beautiful, even spiritual, experiences of meaning making and generativity of self. It also createa many pivot points where we may find room in our path for vulnerability or blurring of self. As much as these pivot points can be distressing, I think they also sometimes become our foundations of change/personal evolution, when we find that through the distress of existing in shift, something meaningful is occurring or observable in our experience of self-in-transition.

I think something I've valued especially about my own relationship with self is its transience. It doesn't always end up somewhere I would be happy to sustain, but it always allows me a degree of comfort in complexity that I think has made my body-mind a safer place for me overall.

[lucyvaleheart]

.

[applestorms]

ooo, a shinigami eyes logistics talk again, i've written about this before!! i have some slight disagreements with this answer actually:

This only occurred because Ryuk dropped a Death Note and Light Yagami picked it up. With this, we can say with certainty that humans have free will and deaths that were not supposed to happen can occur if people interfere.

while it is definitely true that the deaths light causes go against those predestined by the lifespan counters the shinigami can see, i would argue that this is not actually proof of human free will, but of free will specifically related to the death note.

by the inherent nature of how shinigami use their death notes, it is necessary that human lifespans are static and unchanging (they wouldn't be able to gain any years otherwise), which means that to some degree they must be predetermined. humans may have some free will on a smaller scale, in terms of the specific actions they take day to day, how they eventually die, etc., but as a whole they cannot escape that number. if a human were to, for example, attempt suicide long before their lifespan ran out right before a shinigami could successfully write down their name (i.e. they die due to free will and not because of either their name being written or their counter running out), it would presumably fuck up the shinigami's ability to feed their own lifespan. humans thus must have at the very least have some major limitations on their free will, if we're assuming that this aspect of the shinigami's survival mechanism takes priority.

point is, shinigami need to be able to rely on lifespan counters as accurate for the sake of their survival. death notes themselves may go against the predetermined course of the universe in this way by killing people before their due date, but even in the case that a human is using a DN, this should not be taken as evidence of human free will-- just the ability for a shinigami-based entity to go against the natural course of human fates.

[Light] killed them with the Death Note, which was never supposed to be involved. And this is the same question that is raised when we consider Soichiro Yagami—and even Mello, for that matter. Mello likely never would've joined the mafia and done all this crazy dangerous stuff, Soichiro likely never would have gone into a dangerous raid at his age, if it weren't for the presence of the Death Note.

there are some official rules relevant to this one, specifically:

Whether the cause of the individual's death is either a suicide or accident, if the death leads to the death of more than the intended, the person will simply die of a heart attack. This is to ensure that other lives are not influenced. (X) [ and ] A human death caused by the Death Note will indirectly lengthen some other human's original life even without a specific intention to lengthen a particular person's original life span in the human world. (LIX) [ note also that X is essentially repeated in XXVI as: "Even though only one name is written in the Death Note, if it influences and causes other humans that are not written in it to die, the victim's cause of death will be a heart attack." ]

thus at least according to the official DN rules (and this could definitely have some plot holes/inconsistencies, but let's see if we can make it fit anyways) human lifespans can be influenced by deaths caused by the DN, but only in a positive manner, e.g. a lifespan can end up longer than originally determined, but cannot end up shorter.

the most questionable/unrealistic part of all of this in my mind though is that claim that, "other lives are not influenced." the more obvious point that this is trying to establish is that other (unwritten) lives cannot be cut off in the sense that you can't write "Person A kills [such-and-such]," without writing both names, meaning that light can't write something like, "Soichiro Yagami kills the head of the KIRA investigation, the man under the pseudonym L," and end the story prematurely. but this statement also has the somewhat awkward side effect of implying that lives as a whole cannot be majorly influenced by the DN so long as their names are not written...

ANYWAYS, the important point here is again the fact that the lifespan itself is what is being predetermined, and not necessarily the exact cause of death. perhaps there are many paths that an individual human may take throughout their life, and they have free will in terms of which specific one they choose-- but they cannot change the natural date of when they're fated to die, at least not without the help of the shinigami. and again, a death cannot come earlier due to DN influence, only later.

soichiro took the eyes because he was already suicidal-- he thought himself a failure for allowing mello to get the DN and use him to manipulate the task force, for choosing his daughter's life over his job. i can very easily see an alternate timeline where he allowed matsuda to take the eyes as planned, only to either off himself or die from the same explosion but slightly slower a day later than in canon, or even one where he did take the eyes but wrote mello's name, forcing light to kill him to cover his tracks & keep up appearances with the 13 day rule. thus his death was coming soon no matter what in the timeline where a DN does exist-- and in the case where it doesn't, where light never got the notebook or ryuk never dropped it, i think the divergences are just too extreme for us to be able to claim whether or not he would've died at that same point in time. our only evidence is really the lifespan itself, which would presumably claim that he dies either at the same time as his dead in canon, or even a bit earlier if we assume that the DN's influence somehow lengthened his life in some way (maybe by killing a criminal that would've gotten him?).

edit: the key point here is that soichiro’s name wasn’t written, so his lifespan can’t be influenced to be shorter by the DN.

in the case of mello, i guess i just don't see it as all that unrealistic that mello would've still joined the mafia or somehow lost his shit, considering how relatively disconnected both mello & near are from the KIRA investigation. their rivalry (well, maybe more like "rivalry" in near's case) seems like such a key part of their characters, i can see plenty of other circumstances under which something like that might've happened. and we don't really know mello's "true" death date anyways, since takada killed him with the DN, so...

[D]espite halving her lifespan twice, I think Misa had the potential to live for an extremely long time, possibly even way past the average lifespan of a normal human. But she killed herself. And that's where the big question about free will and destiny come in.

your equation is a very helpful visual, but the one thing that i think it may be missing is the fact that misa had already run up against the end of her natural lifespan at the time that gelus saved her and gave her his little time infusion. so, when we're judging whether or not it is realistic that misa would've died by the end of the story, we're really only counting 1/4 of gelus's lifespan + all of rem's remaining time.

i don't think it's entirely unrealistic that even if shinigami as a whole have plenty of time ticking away, gelus & rem do not. their interest in misa to begin with sets the two of them up as kinda weird in contrast with the rest of the shinigami-- honestly, even ryuk, with his fixation on humans as a source of entertainment, is a bit of an odd one out. shinigami just Don't seem to give much of a shit about humanity (at least until KIRA happens)-- looking at ryuk's explanation:

In actual fact, shinigami these days don't have a lot to do. All they do is nap, or gamble. If they see you scribbling humans' names into your death note, they say, "What're you working so hard for?" and laugh at you. (ch.1)

thus, at least at the start of the story, shinigami have some degree of social pressure to not want to write their names down (assuming they care about being laughed at) and/or typically just don't give enough of a shit to bother unless they're already running super low (e.g. sidoh). considering the fact that gelus was busy watching misa all the time, and that his lifespan was essentially quartered by the end, it doesn't seem too unrealistic to me to think that he wasn't exactly giving her a whole lot. they also don't seem to have any way of knowing, in exact terms, just how much life they or other shinigami have left, since their lifespan counters are not revealed by their eyes like human lifespans are, so if a shinigami isn’t paying a whole lot of attention it may be easy to let it trickle down a lot without realizing.

the bigger question here is perhaps rem, who dies by writing watari & L's names, yes, but also writes down the name of one of higuchi's victims while in the car with misa to help convince him that she's the second KIRA, meaning that she has at least the remains of one human lifespan to hand over to misa right at the end of the story...

obviously though, a lot of this is just speculation since we never actually know how much time either shinigami had (and perhaps they didn't even know themselves, considering again that they can only see human lifespans). misa definitely could've had a super long lifespan and lived long past an ordinary human lifespan, exactly as you say. in the manga canon specifically, we never actually see her in-story again and her "confirmed" death date is only something from vol. 13, which has somewhat questionable information that at the very least isn't explicitly depicted in the canon of the story itself.

(reason number 5 billion why that "random woman," at the end of the series should totally be misa because i mean come. on. the woman whose whole thing is living past when she should've died, living for [x] stupidly long time to lead some mystery KIRA cult in the mountains??? obha, what the fuck. it's right there.)

wait so soichiro died a day after getting the eyes. so does that mean he only had two days left to live??? 😱

Ooookay, so this one is a very common claim/theory. The same applies to the, MIsa committed suicide a year after the manga ended, meaning people think that's how many years she got from Gelus and Rem combined as well as halving twice. Personally, I find that unlikely. I'll get to Soichiro, but I'm going to use Misa as the main example for the followiong rant:

It sounds like Shinigami don't bothering writing down names often, meaning they're generally okay on remaining years. They could write the names of two humans and have like, nearly two hundred years added to their lifespan. Only Shinigami we've ever seen worried about running out is Sidoh. Gelus we only knew for five seconds, but Rem never seems to say or do anything indicating that she is lacking in years. So here is my little equation that is likely wrong because I am tired right now:

In my personal opinion, despite halving her lifespan twice, I think Misa had the potential to live for an extremely long time, possibly even way past the average lifespan of a normal human. But she killed herself. And that's where the big question about free will and destiny come in. How much do humans actually control? Was it a coincidence the Misa's scheduled death was going to be at the hands of a stalker who planned a murder-suicide? Or was it somehow destined and predetermined that this man would grow obsessed with Misa to the point he ends both of their lives?

Criminals are dropping dead at alarming rates, and it is very much NOT NORMAL. It can only be the work of a person somehow causing these deaths. There was not supposed to be a sudden, random wave of criminal deaths. This only occurred because Ryuk dropped a Death Note and Light Yagami picked it up. With this, we can say with certainty that humans have free will and deaths that were not supposed to happen can occur if people interfere. Not to mention that Shinigami take years from humans who had remaining years, so they are messing with how lifespans and whatnot are supposed to naturally work.

So Light Yagami caused deaths that were never supposed to happen via his choices/actions. He killed them with the Death Note, which was never supposed to be involved. And this is the same question that is raised when we consider Soichiro Yagami—and even Mello, for that matter. Mello likely never would've joined the mafia and done all this crazy dangerous stuff, Soichiro likely never would have gone into a dangerous raid at his age, if it weren't for the presence of the Death Note.

So did Soichiro Yagami canonically have two days to live? The answer is that there is no way of actually knowing. In my personal opinion, the answer is no.

[stairset]

Love the idea here that the other rebels' problem with Saw is just that he blows shit up and not the whole "torturing prisoners and endangering civilians" thing

[anarcho-masochist]

Okay, I thought this was universal but maybe my last three therapists were right that it is not:

Is it normal for boredom to be truly unbearable?

As in, worse than anything else, would rather get eviscerated while fully conscious, will do anything to escape it which might actually include suicide if no satisfactory options are available?

[astonmartinii]

it must be a sign | oscar piastri social media au

pairing: oscar piastri x fem deaf! red bull engineer!reader

when the two most unbothered people in the paddock combine their joint powers to be the it couple

request sent by the lovely @bibissparkles xx

author's note: heyyy so many of you won't know but i am actually deaf - i am 50% deaf in both ears and wear hearing aids so i love requests like this! (all i do most of this stuff as a deaf person, turning off your hearing aids >)

MASTERLIST | TIP JAR

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, oscarpiastri and 302,446 others

yourusername: you can't complain about the dutch national anthem when you can just turn your hearing aids off

view all comments

user1: the way max's engineer is as sick of that damn song as us

user2: turning off her hearing aids makes how bored she looks during podiums make sense

yourusername: it was a banger during the mercedes dominance but would it kill someone to play the australian anthem

danielricciardo: i knew you missed me

yourusername: sure, jan.

user3: her and max signing slay to each other will always be so personal to me

maxverstappen1: gonna pretend you didn't just say that

yourusername: boo hoo babe, you gotta lose something sometimes

user4: babe? are the flowers from max?

maxverstappen1: would rather choke on my own spit and fall into a pit of snakes, hope this helps ❤️

yourusername: rude! i wouldn't want flowers from you either :(

user5: i swear we get into this argument every weekend, i think people will still assume they're together until their married to other people

liamlawson30: stop using me as a messenger pigeon please and thank you

yourusername: but i thought red bull gave you wings?

liamlawson30: do not use a pr answer against me 🤨

yourusername: no comment

liamlawson30: choke.

yourusername: idk what's going on in the red bull junior academy but spit in helmut's coffee not mine

user6: y/n consistently giving all the red bull guys shit is my favourite thing ever

user7: the amount of times the sky broadcast has caught her waving them off or taking her hearing aids out lol

oscarpiastri

liked by yourusername, landonorris and 782,309 others

oscarpiastri: switched four tyres for two this weekend

view all comments

user11: you can't distract us with your slutty bike pics WHO THE FUCK IS THAT

landonorris: A WOMAN? A WOMAN? IS THAT A WOMAN OSCAR JACK PIASTRI?

oscarpiastri: yeah i'm pretty sure

landonorris: don't play smart with me buster - why was i not informed?

oscarpiastri: i don't ask to be informed of every time you get rejected in the instagram dms

landonorris: FAKE NEWS

oscarpiastri: okay buddy

user12: i be seeing the sign language book, oscar you are so real for that

user13: that's my king, i need a oscar and y/n link up in the paddock - my unbothered queens

user14: she's in the likes !!!!!!

logansargent: oh we've entered the soft launch phase i see

oscarpiastri: and what?

logansargent: someone is feeling defensive this morning, dude i won't tell i've already kept it a secret for so long

landonorris: HE KNOWS? DOES BEING YOUR TEAMMATE MEAN NOTHING?

oscarpiastri: he's my childhood best friend?

logansargent: there's levels to this game norris

landonorris: @oscarpiastri consider yourself UNDER SURVEILLANCE

oscarpiastri: okay girly

user15: oscar has the patience of a saint, the mystery gal may want to rethink it before having to deal with them all

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, danielricciardo and 381,044 others

yourusername: unrelaxed, unbothered, moisturised ✨

view all comments

user18: queen SHIT THAT AIN'T SHIT

user19: but this mystery man IS

maxverstappen1: yeah sorry about that... but at least boyfy has made his instagram debut?

yourusername: about time, he's too sexy to gatekeep

maxverstappen1: well i'm not going to agree out of respect for you

yourusername: so you don't think he's sexy? i might not be able to hear but HE CAN MAX BE NICE

maxverstappen1: first of all it's a text, second of all i've been way too nice to him

yourusername: he beat you in padel fair and square you're just SHIT AT IT ❤️

maxverstappen1: you know that's a sore subject WHY WOULD YOU BRING IT UP

user20: my queen was really like you wanna tell me to fuck off? oh here's my sexy boyfriend

user21: jos verstappen really didn't know who he was tangling with that gal may be chill but she doesn't take shit

user22: she's like a female version of oscar lol

user23: i knew there was a reason i liked her

this comment was liked by yourusername

danielricciardo: why am i left out of everything these days?

yourusername: snooze you lose

danielricciardo: I AM AWAKE REPLY TO MY TEXTS

danielricciardo: I JUST SAW YOU PUT YOUR PHONE ON DO NOT DISTURB

yourusername: protecting my peace

danielricciardo: i'm on to you buster

oscarpiastri

liked by maxverstappen1, yourusername and 1,209,455 others

tagged: yourusername

oscarpiastri: overjoyed to get my first (proper) win in formula one and even more overjoyed to have my amazing girlfriend (and even better engineer) up on the podium with me

view all comments

user27: so this was the special occasion?

user28: so this is why she said she wanted the australian national anthem over the dutch one?

user29: this is now my roman empire

yourusername: babe is so fucking good and i'm so fucking proud

oscarpiastri: i'm so glad to have been able to share this moment with you

yourusername: you deserve this and more, i love you

oscarpiastri: i love you too xx

user30: wait so oscar knows so much more sign language than i thought

user31: he looked so excited and even mark knows some

logansargent: he forced (we were happy to do so) me, mark and his family to learn as soon as he secured the date lol

oscarpiastri: and now we're all so cool because of it

logansargent: cool and able to chat shit without people knowing what we're saying

yourusername: best bit about it tbf (everyone please learn, it's a beautiful language)

landonorris: I KNEW IT

oscarpiastri: no you didn't

landonorris: no i didn't :( i'm hurt

oscarpiastri: if it's any consolation, we didn't tell many people, max and logan are exceptions

landonorris: WHY WAS I NOT AN EXCEPTION???

yourusername: boo hoo

landonorris: i'm not gonna say anything back to that you kinda scare me

yourusername: good ❤️

yourusername

liked by fernandoalo_oficial, oscarpiastri and 529,778 others

tagged: maxverstappen1 & oscarpiastri

yourusername: me and a racewinner (and our world champion third wheel)

view all comments

user32: fave trio in the paddock no competition

logansargent: logan erasure

yourusername: we love you logan, sunday roast at mine this weekend ❤️

logansargent: SCORE

user33: every time you post there's a new plushie

yourusername: we usually get one to commemorate a big weekend and we both got one for osc's first win

user34: that's so FUCKING CUTE

oscarpiastri: it's all fun and games until you don't fit in the bed because y/n feels too bad to put any of them on the floor

yourusername: they have FEELINGS OSCAR

oscarpiastri: she cried one time when max set off the smoke alarm cooking breakfast and the bed alarm shook so bad that all of them were thrown to the floor

yourusername: it was HARROWING but it also did wake me up so at least we know it works

maxverstappen1: actually my favourite couple to third wheel, but enjoy it while it's here osc, i won't lose again

yourusername: yeah sorry osc it's actually my job to help max win so you're gonna have to wait for him to retire if i have anything to do with it

oscarpiastri: not even for me :(

yourusername: sorry not sorry (i'm really sorry, i love you so much)

oscarpiastri: i love you too even if you won't sabotage max for my race :(

maxverstappen1: okay i know i said you guys are cute but that's enough for today

yourusername: we ARE cute thank you

oscarpiastri: the CUTEST

fin.

note: heheheheh i hope you enjoyed this, i love requests like this xx also on the comment about the bed alarm i had one in uni halls and when the alarm went off that baby SHOOK it was kinda scary

[tittiesnhrtz]

ghostface!ellie x reader

minors & men dni , fingering, cunnilingus, knife play, nipple play, overstim

it's a chilly october night, the leaves are still vibrant with autumn hues outside your window. a crisp breeze weaves through the trees outside, sending a gentle rustle through the branches. the faint scent of vanilla, pumpkin spice and cinnamon hangs in the air inside your home, wrapping all the furniture and the trinkets like a shroud. you’re sitting on your sage couch, wrapped in a cozy crocheted sweater, wearing loose shorts and leg warmers to keep your feet warm on the cold tiles beneath you. your parents are away for a few days at your grandma's, with her health getting worse, it's been hard for her to take care of herself.

the glow from the TV feels distant now, the reporter’s voice filling the otherwise silent room. it’s the same grim news cycle: more bodies found, more gruesome and grotesque details of the dead bodies that should make your skin crawl and erupt with goosebumps. but honestly? you’re just tired. tired of the stories and the police coming up empty.

two of your friends from your friend group are dead, and what'd they have in common? you dated them both at some point. this detail shouldn't probably be necessary or even worth dwelling on, but considering how almost everyone who's either flirted with you or gone on a date with you has no doubt ended up dead—killed by the infamous ghostface himself.

yes, a him. that's what mostly everyone believes but you're somehow sure it's not a man. the way ghostface toys with his victims, the blackmail and emotional mind games—it all feels too calculated, too clever to be the work of a man. not that you think men are stupid, but something about this whole situation just feels... off.

the sound of the doorbell jolts you out of your thoughts. ellie, your best friend, is supposed to be here any minute. she's been your rock through the whole ghostface ordeal. and you think you might be catching feelings for her. her stupid puns and that goofy smile plastered on her face whenever she'd talk about space, dinosaurs, comic books or anything that interested her really, got to you at some point.

with a sigh, you push yourself off the cozy couch, and shuffle over to the door. but when you swing it open, what should've been ellie on the other side is just empty air. that’s strange. you step outside, scanning the porch and the yard, half-expecting to see some kids laughing at their ding-dong ditch prank. instead, you’re hit with a chill as a dark figure catches your eye. a ghostface mask. your heart drops. but before you can even process what you just saw, it vanishes into the shadows.

you stumble back inside and lock the door, but then you hear it—a crash from the kitchen. a china dish smashing to the floor. fuck, what if this is it? what if you’re ghostface’s next target? with a tentative breath, you step inside the kitchen, holding a lamp, ready to strike. except, it's not ghostface, it's just ellie, standing there with a sheepish smile on her face.

"fuck- i thought you were-" you start, your voice trailing off as the memory of the figure outside flashes in your mind.

"i'm sorry, jus' thought i'd surprise you and come in through the back." she explains, motioning toward the kitchen door, which was slightly ajar. "you should seriously learn to lock your doors."

her gaze then drops to the shards scattered across the kitchen floor, the delicate china dish now a jumbled mess of white and pastel blooms. "sorry 'bout that." she mutters, rubbing the back of her neck.

you let out a breath, feeling a mix of relief and irritation. lowering the lamp, you speak. "next time, just ring the doorbell?”

ellie grins. "yeah, sorry."

"whatever, just help me clean this mess." you motion to the mess on the white and black kitchen tiles.

"yep."

you can't stay mad at ellie and it's not the first time she's done something stupid like this.

𓍯𓂃

after what felt like an eternity of cleaning up the mess, you and ellie finally collapse onto your bed, grateful for the distraction of a movie. the small TV on the cabinet across the room flickers to life, and the eerie sounds of SAW II fill the space. you can feel ellie’s presence beside you—she’s sitting awfully close, her warmth radiating against your side. you steal a glance at her, and to your surprise, you catch her gulping, almost instinctively, not once, but three times already. though you're not sure if it's because of the proximity or the gore-y scenes displaying on the screen.

“not a fan of gore movies?”

she chuckles nervously, her eyes glued to the screen. “not exactly in love with the idea of people torturing each other.”  a hint of laughter in her voice, but you can sense something else underneath. something you pass off as anxiety.

you turn your attention back to the movie, but it’s hard to concentrate when you can feel the heat radiating from her. the scene on the screen darkens, and the tension builds as the characters navigate their terrifying predicament. you can’t help but steal another glance at ellie, who’s now looking directly at you.

the characters on the screen scream in despair, but you hardly register it. instead, your focus is drawn to the way her tongue glides over her plump pink lips. and god you want to kiss her badly, to taste the sweetness of her lips.

you don't miss the way her eyes dart down to your lips or the way her chest rises and falls with each breath. you take a breath, steeling yourself, and decide to be bold. you lean in slightly, heart pounding as you gauge her reaction. the air is tense, and you can see her breath hitch, taking that as an invitation, you close the gap.

her lips are slightly cracked but surprisingly soft. she makes a noise against your lips, hands gliding up to rest against your hips, but then they slowly start to wander. under your sweater, from your hips to your waist. ellie can’t help how warm her hands feel against your skin, how smooth, there’s not even callouses on them like hers. the kiss is a bit hungry and impatient, her tongue licking the seam of your lips. your hands move from your lap to cup her face as you part your lips.

the unexpected warmth of her tongue against your cheek sends a shiver down your spine, silencing the whirlwind of thoughts that had been racing through your mind. it’s a ticklish sensation, one that catches you off guard. you let out a small gasp which is muffled into her mouth. ellie continues to explore, her tongue tracing the soft contours of your cheek as if she’s savoring every little bump and curve. there’s a clumsiness to it, an awkwardness that feels endearing rather than off-putting.

when you pull away, a delicate string of saliva connects your lips. your cheeks heat up as you notice the drool glistening in her chin, a sight that is enough to make your panties wet. you lean in and lick the drool off of her, and you can feel her tense up, her hands on your waist squeezing gently. the only source of light is from the TV, and it casts shadows over both of your bodies, the screen and the voices of the characters now completely forgotten. you can feel her hands move from your waist and she’s suddenly cupping your breasts over your bra.

“is this okay?” her thumb traces circles over the soft mounds, staring at you for an answer.

you nod in return and help her remove your sweater and your bra, tossing it somewhere in the darkness. her gaze flicks down to your breasts and for awhile, she just stares. and then a quiet curse follows. her hands move to knead your breasts, watching the skin closely. then, she takes a nipple between her fingers and gently pinches it, watching your every reaction. her mouth latches onto your other breast, her tongue darting out to swirl around it and suck the hardened nub as she pleases, the soft symphony of your quiet noises echoing in the night.

you arch your back, pushing your breasts further into her mouth. she alternates between both of them, giving them both equal attention. her mouth goes dry and she has to pull away with a pop, her green eyes searching your own.

“i wanna feel you.”

her breath hitches and before she knows it, your hands are on the waist band of her jeans, fingers looping into her brown belt. her eyes darken with desire as she looks at you.

“yeah, baby?” she exhales.

the nickname makes your cunt tighten around nothing and you're hastily unbuckling her belt and tossing it away. your fingers work to unbutton her jeans and you slip a hand inside. she lets out a gentle groan as your teeth bite into the flesh of her neck. you leave a series of bruising kisses in their wake as your palm comes into contact with her boxers. to your surprise, she's soaking wet. you almost want to tease her but your desire prevails over it and you're slipping your fingers into her boxers, tracing her slick folds. she's making the prettiest noises too, already falling apart under your touch. but little did you know, she's spent years dreaming of this moment. paintings and drawings of you hidden under her bed, along with the candid pictures that she oh so eagerly waits to get off to every night.

"say you want me."

her breathing is unsteady as she opens her mouth to speak. "fuck." she grunts softly and leans her head into your shoulder. "i want you, baby. please."

her pathetic begging and whines are enough for you to give in, her cunt throbbing as your fingers rub her slick along it. it greedily sucks in your digit as you slowly add it. she feels ecstatic because this isn't a dream anymore, it's real. you add another digit, eliciting a pornographic moan from her. it isn't long until your fingers are curling around her g-spot and her walls are squelching around them.

""m close..s-so close."

"i know. just cum for me, yeah?" you coo into her ear before nipping at the skin just below her ear. and she does exactly that, letting out a strangled sob as her body gets the release she's been chasing for. you take your fingers out of her boxers and suck them clean. ellie still has her eyes shut and her head against your shoulder but she can hear the way your mouth wraps around your fingers and sucks her juices off. she's pulling away and looking at you.

and then, she's guiding you down to lay on the bed, lifting your hips up to remove your shorts until you're splayed in just your cotton panties and leg warmers in front of her. she almost moans at the sight.

"you're so-" she starts, but cuts herself off. leaning down to hover over you and planting a kiss on your temple, on your cheek and one on your collarbone. one of her hands starts rubbing the inside of your thigh as she leans in and kisses you, sloppily. her hand comes to rub your clothed cunt and you feel her muffled moan inside your mouth, as you swallow the noise. she pulls back to look down at you.

"look how wet." she smirks and you almost regret not teasing her about her own drenched underwear.

you can only whimper and lift your hips up in return as her hands hook under the waistband of your underwear and pull it off of you.

"god, so gorgeous and so wet....all for me." she murmurs, more to herself than you. her pupils are blown wide, lips parted as she moves your legs up and pushes them apart. your hands find purchase on her ass beneath her flannel as she mouths at the skin of your neck like it's her hobby. as you squeeze her jeans-clothed ass, you swear you feel an outline of something resembling a... knife. in her back pocket. you take the object out and it's indeed a knife. ellie was in a daze to notice or feel what you were doing— to busy enjoying your skin after only having imagined what it must have felt like in her dreams. your voice, however, causes her to look up from your neck. you dangle the knife in front of her.

"..why do you have a knife?"

her eyes widen a fraction before she smirks and takes the knife from you. "protection. why else?" she answers like you were dumb to even ask the question in the first place. “don’t wanna risk getting killed with ghostface on the loose.”

a pause. "but...it could come handy for other things." she glides the knife down your clavicle to your breasts, the hitching of your breath only serving to encourage her. she presses it down against one of your nipples before moving it lower— where you're aching for her the most.

the cold blade presses against your puffy clit and you moan loudly. "ellie..."

"shh." she coos, grinning down at you, almost sinisterly. she pushes it further against the bundle of nerves, making you whimper. "i need-" she cuts you off by lining the knife along your delicate entrance, you let out a cry and your eyes widen in fear and shock. she seems to notice it and pulls the knife away, but not before gliding it up and down your folds.

"i'm not gonna hurt you, baby." the words roll of her tongue like honey and you feel bad for fearing her in the first place. she places the knife beside you on the sheets and moves to place herself in between your legs. a couple of kisses to your clit before she's greedily licking at your pussy. tongue moving at a relentless pace against your clit as her hands come up to grope your tits. moans fall out of your lips like a prayer and she pushes her tongue inside your cunt before pulling back and lapping away at your juices. you're awfully close and she knows it, she can sense it by the way you're arching your back and gripping the sheets, your knuckles almost white.

"cum on my face, pretty girl." her words vibrate against your clit, causing you to moan out her name.

that elicits a moan from ellie, herself. something stirs in her, hearing you moan her name out like that. and she inserts two fingers into your sopping cunt. curling them graciously against your g-spot, hitting it over and over again as her mouth does the same to your clit.

"ellie..i can't..fuck-" your final cry of pleasure, reverberates through her body. she removes her fingers but keeps lapping at your pussy even after you cum. your weak cries do nothing to pull her away. her grip on your thighs tighten and she pushes them apart from closing. you squirm and squeak due to the overstimulation, nudging her away with all your force, but it's too weak. she doesn't seem too keen on stopping, a hand pushing down on your stomach to stop you from squirming.

"s-stop." it isn't until that word comes out of your mouth that she stops and pulls away to look at your wrecked form. cheeks flush and hair tousled. you don't know how much it affects her. you never do.

"sorry, got too carried away." she murmurs. but she's anything but sorry. after helping you lay your head down on the pillow, she pulls the covers up your body. she can tell she's tired you out by the way your eyes are half lidded and your limbs look sore. she soothes you by wrapping her arms around you, intertwining your hands, and placing a kiss on your forehead. eventually, you drift asleep.

the longer she looks at you, the world outside fades further into obscurity. you, who's sleeping blissfully, completely unaware of the fact that the knife that was pressing against your clit a few minutes ago was the same knife that she used to brutally stab and dismember the body of a classmate who dared flirt with you. you, who's probably having sweet dreams while she has to go and take care of the unconscious body of the guy who rang your doorbell this very night.

this is my first time writing smut or anything close to a fan fic!! so if you see any mistakes js ignore it :3

[moonlight-prose]

smut prompt #8 for logan 👀💗

forty five minutes in the closet

a/n: not me literally writing this in right where you left me ch4. hilarious and iconic timing, because i was fighting the urge to just have them fuck full on in that closet. so here's my chance to do just that. for funsies i'm shoving it into that universe. do not look at me for using that gif. i literally can't deny myself the sight.

summary: an alternative scene to what really happened in that closet.

OR wade wilson forces logan to play seven minutes in heaven. (it was longer than seven minutes if we're being honest.)

word count: 2.6k+

pairing: logan howlett x f!reader

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI, exhibitionism, dirty talk, logan is filthy af and we love that, spit, fingering sort of, p in v sex, quickie, rough sex, biting, he's down bad for his honey what can i say, panty gag, a formal apology for how fucking horny and unhinged this is.

The closet felt smaller than intended—even as your back was pressed to the wall hard enough to feel the cracks in the drywall that stretched to the ceiling. Laughter filtered through the thin wooden door as Wade told yet another joke about shit you couldn't discern. Even if you asked him to explain, you'd still be confused come morning.

Logan leaned heavily against his side of the closet. Approximately two feet of space between you. The tips of your shoes touched his boots. The faint scent of cigar smoke still lingered from where he ripped it out and tossed it in an ashtray. You wouldn't have cared if he smoked in here. You might have asked for a puff.

He insisted on keeping the air clean in case you had to breathe.

Wade claimed you were playing seven minutes in heaven. Seven minutes of alone time with the man who made your head spin. In a proximity close enough to feel the heat of his body from where you stood. Although you'd been standing there for four minutes (you were keeping count via the watch on Logan's wrist) and the group seemed to have forgotten about the both of you entirely.

"Do you—um—know what usually happens here?"

A smile curved on his lips—eyes scrutinizing you with a look that told you he was teasing you. "Yeah. I do. I'm old, not stupid."

"I just wanted to make sure..." In a swift move you barely saw, he rose to his full height and crossed the invisible line holding the two of you on opposing sides. "Oh–"

"Honey." His voice was low, yet you felt as if he was screaming in your ear.

"Yes?" you breathed—eyes fixed on the way his chest took up your space. His flannel was stretched across it and for a moment you wondered if you started salivating at the sight.

"Are you nervous?"

Another raucous round of laughs broke through the darkness that surrounded you. But you could barely hear them over the echo of your own heart. It hammered loudly against your chest—quickening the closer he got. The more his large frame began to engulf you in a warmth you only dreamed of. You clamored to come up with a response, to flippantly push off his advance with a tease of your own.

His hands pressing on either side of your head to the wall behind you killed every ounce of bravery you had left. All your worries and thoughts about what lay on the other side of that door were extinguished. Logan leaned down, his nose brushed yours, and inhaled deep enough to steal the breath from your lungs.

"I can smell you," he rumbled. "Sweet like honey."

A searing heat built beneath your skin, burning from your cheeks down to the tips of your toes. Your mouth opened—words still fighting to be formed—but he didn't need an answer. Not when he could smell the arousal that pooled between your thighs. How you subtly shifted to find a bit of friction in the hopes of something more.

"You mind if I kiss you bub?"

A piece of you fractured in the darkness of that closet—settling comfortably in his own chest. You might ask for it back after all of this, but Logan felt his chances of you walking out as his were growing the longer this went on.

Glancing up—eyes wide and darkened with lust—you bit back the whine that crawled up the back of your throat. "They'll hear us."

He shrugged, shifting close enough for you to almost taste the whiskey off his lips. "Good."

"Logan–"

Lips pressed to your cheek, drawing a soft sigh from your parted mouth. "Somethin' tells me they're just waiting for it." His hand left the wall to trail along your waist, dipping slowly with a kiss to the corner of your lips. "And somethin' also tells me...you like that idea."

It's not as if you were entirely opposed to the idea. Actually most nights (if not every night) was spent with you imagining what it would be like to feel him this way. To be stretched with his cock so much you would feel a delicious burn.

You craved it.

He knew solely from the wanton look on your face. The way your eyes fluttered the further his hand went.

"You gonna let me in or what honey?" he cooed, fingers dipping beneath your skirt to seek out the slick that soaked the lace of your underwear.

Surely the seven minutes had run out, leaving the both of you to make a choice. Stay here and keep going for everyone to catch you. Or walk out, find a room, and continue this in private.

The thought of waiting a second longer snapped at your heels with an air of impatience you let consume you. What the fuck did it matter if they heard you getting fucked against the wall? What did it matter if you'd never live this down as long as you lived?

How could you actually think about shame when Logan's fingers were pressed against your dripping cunt, seeking out your clit through the thin fabric that divided you.

Sagging against the wall with a soft moan, you gripped his flannel in your fist and yanked his lips to yours. He groaned, falling into your body and effectively pinning you to the wall, as his tongue met yours. And suddenly you realized...you liked how whiskey tasted off of his tongue.

He devoured you with the kiss, swallowing each moan and stunted whine as his fingers made quick work of finding your clit. Rubbing quick circles, he plunged his tongue into your mouth - licking at your teeth with a fervor that seeped down into your stomach. It was messy. His spit mixed with yours, staining the skin of your cheek. Your slick coated the inside of your thighs as he pushed the fabric into you roughly.

Yet none of it felt enough to ease the ache that spread rapidly down to the tips of your fingers. Your heart twisted as he gripped the back of your neck—leading you in a kiss that divulged down to nothing but teeth and spit.

You wrapped an arm around his shoulders, your leg hooking around his hip, in the hopes of dragging him closer. To feel the hard bulge against the rough denim of his jeans.

"Look at you," he mumbled against your cheek. "All pretty and leakin' for me."

A sharp burst of need pulled tight at your stomach—the breath torn from your lungs. "Inside–"

He smiled. "C'mon honey. Use that smart head of yours. Gimme some words."

His words were a brutal tease that scraped against your skin. Yet that coupled with his fingers that seemed to hold an edge of desperation, left you gasping for air. Fingers dug into his shirt, lips found his in the hollow darkness, and you begged for mercy. This was your penance. The altar he intended to bend you across.

Oh how you longed for him to follow through.

"Fuck me," you managed to get out between sharp intakes of breath and heady kisses. "Please Logan. It hurts.

The sound that emanated from deep in his chest could only be described as feral. You'd never heard him like that before. Bordering on the line of unhinged and sanity. A flare of want pulled at your body, echoing loudly in your chest.

You wanted to hear it again. To feel him break beneath your palms as he rutted into you with need. You ached to watch him whittle himself down to the barest of his senses. The animalistic urge of lust he kept hidden for weeks on end.

"Yeah?" His words were a snarl against your ear, teeth scraping your jaw as he ripped his hand away. "'M gonna make it better. Gonna take away the pain."

Nails scratched at the back of his neck when you heard his claws slide out—cutting through the fabric that clung to you. It was sopping wet; proof that you hadn't in fact been lying about your need. Logan felt his cock leak in his jeans at the sight—how your slick clung to his fingers as he swiped along the gusset.

"All for me," he sighed.

"Uh-huh." If you thought you sounded needy before, that was nothing compared to this moment.

He eyed you briefly. The hazel you'd grown fond of now dark and clouded with lust. The plea for more lay on the tip of your tongue—ready to be laved against his skin the longer he took. But then he brought the fabric to his mouth, his tongue running across it with a broken groan. The breath was punched from your lungs—legs shaking as a wave of slick poured out of you.

"Oh fuck–" you gasped, cupping his chin to catch his lips in a kiss.

The clink of his belt buckle echoed like a gunshot in the small space. Your heart began to race. Fingers shaking as you watched him tug his cock free; fisting the red and leaking tip with a throaty moan. Saliva filled your mouth at the mere thought of him sliding between your lips. The image of him feeding you his cock with a smile.

He fanned the flames of your simmering fire, offering you pleasure with ease.

His hand gripped your other leg, positioning it over his hip before pushing you up along the wall. The yelp was muffled by his lips; your hands finding purchase against his hot skin.

"Gotta be real quiet now bub," he mumbled, sliding his cock along your drenched cunt.

The head tapped against your clit once, twice. By the third time your teeth were dug into your bottom lip so hard copper burst on your tongue.

"I promise."

He chuckled, breathless. You joined.

The compact space stretched out before you, expanding with each joined breath and laugh. Passion intertwined in your chest, reaching for him with a tender touch of reverence. And nothing existed but the two of you.

"Hey Logan."

His cock jumped at the sound of your voice so light and airy. "Yeah honey?"

"If I don't tell you after this." Your hips canted into his, grinding towards where he positioned himself. "I had a really nice time tonight."

His heart fluttered as your words settled into his skin—soaking up your warmth. "Me too."

The laughter diminished the second he pushed forward, sliding into you with a slickened thrust that left his body shuddering. You swallowed the sob that wrenched from your chest when he kept going. Stretching you until you felt the burn begin to seep into your body. You weren't prepared for how addicting it felt; how mindless he made you.

Seven minutes had surely blended into fifteen, giving the group no doubt of what you were doing. That only solidified when he bottomed out and you moaned so loud it nearly gave him a heart attack. His fingers clamored for something in his pocket—his lips sliding against yours to silence the endless whimpers. He filled you until you saw white behind your eyes each time they fluttered closed.

"They're gonna hear ya," he muttered. You caught a flash of lace before it was being pressed to your lips—willing you to part them and hold the fabric between your teeth.

Logan gave you one minute to find your brain in the muddled thoughts that filled you, before pulling out. Only to slam back in. Your cry was muffled—eyes rolled back—and he felt a searing triumph begin to form in his chest. At the sight of you in a messy state of bliss.

His hips slapped against yours, the wet slide of your cunt a loud echo. Adding to the symphony of his groans and your whimpered sounds. Your spit soaked into the lace, fingers digging hard along the planes of his back, and he felt you gush at the feel of his teeth sinking into your neck.

"So fuckin' sweet for me," he grunted, cupping your ass to push you back and forth on his cock. A shift in the angle had you going dumb. Eyes wide and glazed with tears. "My pretty girl huh?"

Fuck you wanted to scream. You longed to hear his name bounce off the closet walls and spill into the foyer of Wade's damn apartment. To remind them that time was still passing and their limit had reached the vastness of infinity.

He pounded into you with sharp gasps of praise, words that fell on ears deafened by the rush of blood that ran right to your head. Oxygen felt secondary when his cock kissed the wall of your cunt with such accuracy it left you blinded. Enough to have you sobbing into the spit soaked lace - tears spilling down your cheeks.

"You take it like it was fuckin' made for you yeah?"

You nodded, breasts bouncing as he fucked you along his cock—his other hand pressed to the wall. You took it like it was made for you, because it was made for you. Logan belonged to you. Whether he knew it now or not.

"I can feel you squeezin' me," he gasped. "Gonna cum?"

"Mhm," you mumbled, the squelch of your cunt loud enough to block out the laughter from the outside.

"Then do it honey." His thumb found your clit, swirling it with sharp pointed circles. Your toes curled in your shoes—head falling back to the wall with a soft thud. "That's it. Fuckin' cum for me."

"Mmff–" A sob of what morphed into his name tore from the depths of your body. Rendering you a shaky mess in his arms as you clamped down around his cock.

Slick poured out of you, coating the hair along the base of his stomach in your essence. Logan growled at the sight. His eyes narrowed and teeth bared with each stunted thrust of his hips into yours. Claws punctured the drywall behind you as a way to keep his body level. To ground himself as he came with a hoarse groan he quickly muffled into the top of your breast.

Grinding into you, he emptied himself entirely. Rope after rope of his spend now filling you to the point of dripping down to his balls.

You felt the need to drop to your knees and taste him.

To clean him entirely and place him neatly back in his jeans. But the movement of your body no longer remained an option—your legs numb and back sore from being pounded into the wall.

He removed the gag with a huff, kissing you gently with his thumbs pressed to the tops of your cheeks. A soft caress. A contract to the rough way he manhandled you.

"I can't feel my legs," you sighed into his mouth, tongue swiping along his bottom lip.

"You're not supposed to." The weak slap to his chest had him laughing louder than intended.

"Don't worry. Wade won't notice if you carry me."

He groaned, his teeth scraping at the flesh of your breast. "Don't fuckin’ say his name or I won't be able to fuck you again tonight."

You giggled, running your hands through his mussed hair. "Whiskey dick?"

"Shut up–"

"He's told you–"

Lips sealed over yours, hips pushing yours until the sigh stuttered from your chest. "Don't fuckin' start honey."

You smiled into the kiss. "Or you'll finish?"

A thump rammed against the door, startling the both of you. You half expected it to swing open and expose Logan with his jeans down to his knees and his softened cock still inside you. But all that came through was Wade's laughter—his knuckles rapping on the wood.

"Did he rise babygirl?" he shouted much to the detriment of the group who booed behind him.

"I will cut you open through the door!" Logan snarled. A triumphant laugh rattled the walls as Logan lowered you to the ground. Only for Wade to get the last official word.

"HE ROSE!"

[yanderenightmare]

Gojo Satoru

TW: NSFW, noncon, yandere, stalking, death of nameless character

gn reader

Thinking about Gojo bumping into you on his way to buy sweets and getting mortified when sensing how you pass through his infinity like it isn’t even there – touching him hands-first like it’s only normal.

And the way you look at him, all spluttering apologies – without a single clue – how you quickly walk away like it was no bigger deal than mildly embarrassing.

And he’s left there, stunned and stuck to the ground he stood on, suddenly feeling stripped naked.

He had to follow you – naturally. Can’t let the biggest threat to his life just walk around unsupervised. Obviously, he has to keep tabs on you now – every single day – your constant whereabouts, where you work and study and loiter and live, and who you communicate with.

It’s all platonic at first – nothing romantic. He’s stalking you, but it’s for safety reasons. There’s no telling who’d potentially find out about your dormant technique and use it against him.

But keeping his six eyes on you every hour he could spare all day and night of every week, eventually, he can't stop himself from starting to see you as something more than just a threat…

He's not blind to it either – he feels the change in the pit of his stomach – in his heart – in his balls even.

He blushes when you take your clothes off to go shower – needs to swallow thickly, watching you walk about your apartment dressed only in undies and a comfy T – smiles when seeing you dance around to music he can’t hear from where he’s perched on the rooftop on the neighboring building – tugs on his cock to the sight of you touching yourself, trying to time his climax to yours.

He’s not watching you for the right reasons anymore… he knows that, but he just can’t seem to stop.

You’re so normal, he’s obsessed with you. So addictive in your mundane routines. Messy notes, chewing your pen when scrambling for an exam – making another easy-fix dinner – picking up the same hoodie from the floor before throwing yourself out the door to go work your minimum wage job – coming home late only to collapse on the sofa with a random episode of some dumb sitcom playing on the TV.

He wants to be your boyfriend – imagines himself going to your school and sitting next to you in the lecture hall, studying together at cafes, watching movies in bed, wearing his varsity jacket, squeezing your ass as you ride him in someone else's bedroom at a party that got way out of hand, cumming on your face and apologizing for it when you give him head on his birthday.

He’s teetering on thirty and has killed more than he can count – both curses and humans – and here he is – fantasizing about having a college sweetheart who doesn’t even know his name…

It would be healthy for him to stop – he knows that, knows it’s becoming dangerous – but he thinks it might be too late now – all he does is try and get closer…

He thinks about enrolling in one of your classes, thinks about moving into your apartment complex, and then he thinks about taking you.

He’s watching you have a nightcap with a boy he thinks he recognizes from your class – you’re both drunk and it’s obvious where things are going...

There’s a devil and an angel sitting on his shoulders, whispering in his ear – but he can't tell which one’s which anymore. One is telling him to leave – to allow you some privacy... but the other tells him to barge in – to crash through the window and rip the guy’s head off by the scruff of his chin.

There’d be blood on his hands, but at least he’d finally be able to touch you…

He glues his hands together – tries thinking clearly – but closing his eyes only results in seeing you gasping and moaning while getting fucked by someone else and it makes him feel like he’s about to lose his shit.

He performs the rituals with his fingers without even noticing – making the hand gestures – his breathing thick before he mouths the words beneath his breath. “Infinite Void…”

You don’t know what’s happening – you’re drunk and unsure if you should be dialing nine-one-one or an ambulance. The guy you’re with is having a seizure, frothing at the mouth and spasming on the floor until suddenly falling limp.

Your breathing is sharp. You think he’s dead. You throw up. The shock makes the tears stop for a brief moment before you start hyperventilating, crying harder.

You’re shaking, and it’s hard holding the phone still – let alone dial any number. Before you can, there’s a knock on the door.

You’re not thinking clearly, naked and wrapped in just a thin sheet as you rush to greet the sound. You don’t recognize the man, but for some reason, you’re spilling your guts to him anyway – rambling about the dead guy in your bedroom.

You’re panicked, and it only takes a curt minute before you’re throwing yourself at him – hugging him tightly – your hands ice-cold on his neck, skin-to-skin without any respect to his infinity – latching onto him for dear life as if you know exactly who he is and how much he loves you.

But of course, you don’t...

You’re just in shock – having just witnessed a boy die. Completely clueless as to how the man you were clinging to so desperately was going to take you back into that bedroom where that boy was lying and do to you what he was going to do before he killed him.

[evilminji]

You know what seriously doesn't get played with enough?

In the grand, shared, doll set of Danny Phantom?

The cultural alienation.

Is Danny up to date on Human Memes? Did he see that movie? Hear about that celebrity drama? He lives here, amongst us, WITH us. But? Feels... half out of the loop.

And? He can't SHARE his passions with us.

Is he REALLY gonna show his new lecture buddy that hot new Kryptonian Sci-fi series he picked up from the Zone's nearest mega market bookstore? Invite a neighbor over for some sparkling ectoplasm laced soda and a binge of this cool Alien animated film from a long dead planet's artist guild? They're trying new mediums, apparently! Danny thinks it's pretty cool, he hopes they make more.

Oh, but maybe he can talk about games!

Except he switched to the technologically far more advanced Z-Held, years ago. They have literally billions of billions of options, since every game maker in their region of the Zone designs for it. Has for millennia.

....music?

Ghost speak either creeps people out or actually hurts to hear, if they listen too long. And "normal" music... feels so FLAT. Emotionless. Yeah, he'll LISTEN... smile and agree it sound nice. But it's... it's so bland? Less then bland.

He can't even share his food! It's a one way trip to ER! If not the morgue. Half his spices are FROM the Zone now. And Zone plants? Heeeeeella poisonous to humans. Tasty af to HIM, but... yeah. No sharing.

So like... what does that LEAVE him? Dance? Hobbies? Sam n Tucker he can share his REAL interests with, but... they went to different colleges. And protecting people isn't a hobby. It's more of a Gotta, you know? He ALSO can't join any space related clubs because now he knows WAY too much about Space.

Like "above civilian clearance, no one on this planet should know that" a lot.

He gets distracted. Too excited. He KNOWS himself.

He would totally ramble on about Space.

He's a Fenton, man. It's genetic.

So... he's lonely. Adrift. A sad, sad, semi-feral noodle of a man. And you know who would never let that stand? Who also wants to know what THE FUCK he's listen too, because it's both giving him a headache and creeping him out? Kon.

This dude reminds him of Tim. Complete with the feral energy and fluffy hair. *snaps pick* lol, bro, is you. ANYWAY, this guy? Apparently the source of the Kent family splitting migraines. That sound has been KILLING them. They need to get this guy better headphones. Aliens gotta stick together, you know? Time to go make friends.

*floats over in his shades n leather jacket* Sup~!

[jaewritesfic]

Everlasting Trio DPxDC Nobody Knows Au Pt 3

Parts 1 and 2

They both fall silent and stare. 

That's an answer to one of many questions they've been asking themselves for years, isn't it?

Their best friend disappeared, and it wasn't abduction or murder. It was an escape.

“You guys don't have contact with Jack and Maddie, do you?”

Tucker swears there's a record scratch in his brain.

Sam gapes. “You mean your parents?”

Danny smiles, small, grim and humorless. “Jack and Maddie.”

Jesus Christ.

Sam glances over at Tucker and they exchange a look. Tucker knows they've been feeling a shared guilt for a long time, feeling like they didn't do enough. They had suspicions about something fucked going on in Danny's home life since the beginning of freshman year, but they never blew the whistle about it.

Rationally they know it wasn't their responsibility. All of Amity had suspicions - someone should have called CPS, and it shouldn't have been a couple of kids. A goddamn adult should have stepped up.

It doesn't keep either of them from feeling like they failed their childhood best friend.

“Considering I've spent the last four years suspecting they killed you and chucked your body into the portal to hide it? Hell fucking no, Danny,” Sam asserts.

The set of Danny's shoulders relaxes significantly. “Good,” he breathes. “Good. Please keep it that way.”

“What the fuck was going on in that house, man?” Tucker asks, a little sick to his stomach. He knows right away he shouldn't have asked.

Danny's expression shutters into something polite and pleasant to hide discomfort, and he immediately starts ‘casually’ gathering his papers and computer into his bag.

“Listen, I'm really happy to see you guys - seriously. I really should get going though, I-”

Sam reaches out and snatches him by the scruff of his shirt before he can even stand up all the way, yanking him back down into his chair.

His dumbfounded expression makes Tucker snort a laugh, so familiar and puppy-like. Danny is still all big blue eyes and nearly visible question marks when taken off guard. Tucker missed that face.

“You're not going anywhere until we get your phone number,” Sam argues, not a hint of wiggle room in her face or tone. “We'll get lunch or something, all three of us. Go to the mall. We're living in the same city, you know I'll hunt you down.”

When Danny hesitates, her face and tone melt into something softer.

“Please, Danny. We miss you.”

Danny melts a little, sighing and smiling. “...yeah. Yeah, I missed you too. I've missed you guys so much.”

“So?” Sam prompts, holding her hand out.

Danny huffs a little laughing breath and fishes around in his pocket, unlocking his phone and plopping it into her hand. 

His nails are black and green. Gradient.

Tucker doesn't know much about nails, but he knows there's a difference when Sam paints them and when she splurges for acrylics.

“Are those professionally done?” he asks, bemused. Danny had never expressed an interest in that kind of thing as a kid. It's kind of cool to see signs that he's, like…growing into himself.

Danny shrugs, and it feels good to see that he doesn't even seem to consider Tucker might give a shit in a bad way.

“I'm on my hot girl shit,” he deadpans, and Sam nearly drops his phone with the force of her startled laugh.

Tucker snorts. “Oh, well about time.”

“Hey!” Danny protests, offense fake and eyes dancing. “What's that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing, nothing! You had a glow up is all.”

Danny snickers and kicks him gently under the table.

“Okay, dick.”

It's like they never parted at all for a moment.

“Here, Mr. Hot Girl Shit,” Sam says, handing Danny his phone back. “I put our numbers in and sent a text in a group chat so you can't forget to reach out. I'm serious, Danny. We missed you, don't disappear. It was scary enough the first time.”

Danny grimaces, at least looking genuinely apologetic. “I know. I'm sorry. I really do need to get going today, though. I've got an appointment.”

“What kind of appointment?” Tucker asks.

The grin Danny gives him is mischievous and has a few teeth sharper than he remembers there being. 

He breezes past them and out the door with an impish response of, “Hide and seek with furries.”

Part 4

Masterpost