#PHYSICALLY CANNOT CONTAIN MYSELF

[lemon-does-podcasting]

yall ever just

*points at hyperfixation, shaking like a rabid dog* HKKKHKKHGGGHKGHK

[no1ryomafan]

I can never mention my fics anywhere even with tags because no one understands the nonsense I’m spouting but I need to say while it’s only vaguely poked at in the chapter I’m working on-which is done btw! Just needs to go through beta-I’ve been needing to keep my mouth SHUT about what the fuck I’m planning with hayato in my ZX crossover au- I’ve told betas and general discord people but I need not to post it on here or bluesky or just in a large discord server until the reveal happens in the fic itself, it just will not be until the last act of the fic which I won’t get to for another year so I’m like AAAAAA (I don’t know how people on actual projects keep secrets for so long, this is torture bro)

[syeaweed]

Meet the guy who's been living in my head for the last months! I got into Linked Universe recently and have read at least 60 fics -not including whumptober binges- just for this guy, Twi is now an ultimate blorbo and I physically cannot contain myself when I draw him (I jump around and scream)

[alternate-real-ities]

Hey, about that virus going around… my best bro and roommate said he came into contact with it, but since he’s “already Asian” apparently he thinks it makes him immune. How true is that? Cause ever since he brought it up things aren’t exactly adding up. He doesn’t seem sick, but he doesn’t seem normal either. Should I be worried? Hell, should I be worried about myself? I’ve stayed away from his room, so I should be fine, right?

Thank you for contacting our help line. We understand your concerns regarding the recent outbreaks of the flu. Please be assured that we are doing everything possible to contain the situation.

We recommend that you avoid contact with your roommate until we can confirm he is not infected. Please keep us informed of any changes in his or your condition. If you develop any symptoms, please contact us immediately.

Early symptoms may include fever, cough, body aches, heightened sensitivity in the pectoral region, and excessive sweating. Please note that we cannot predict how long the incubation period may last. We strongly advise remaining in your room and avoiding others until we can confirm you are not infected.

[BEEP]

You hear that ominous final tone, heart pounding in your ears. The help line's words echo in your mind - "Avoid contact with your roommate…" But how? You live in such a small flat. Keeping your distance feels impossible… yet the alternative is too terrifying to contemplate.

With shaking hands, you barricade your door using a chair wedged under the handle and a towering pile of laundry. It won't stop him if he truly tries to enter, but it might buy you crucial seconds to react. You tell yourself those seconds could make all the difference.

The days drag by at an agonising pace, each one blurring into the next as you remain sequestrated in your room like a prisoner awaiting judgement. You only emerge when absolutely necessary - dashing to the bathroom under cover of darkness or grabbing meagre rations from the kitchen when you're certain that your roommate, Jake, is out. Each time, your heart races and palms sweat, half-expecting to collide with him around every corner.

To keep yourself from going crazy, you throw yourself into mindless distractions like binge-watching television shows until your eyes get too tired, or playing video games. But no matter how hard you try to distract yourself, the anxiety always creeps back in, gnawing at the edges of your sanity.

You can't stop thinking about what's happening to Jake… and what might happen to you if you're already infected. The thought of losing yourself, of being consumed by this virus until nothing remains but an empty shell - it makes you physically ill. You can't allow that to happen. You WON'T let it happen.

So you cling to the barricade like a lifeline, praying it will be sufficient to keep the monster at bay… even as a small, treacherous part of you wonders what it would feel like to give in, to embrace the change and see where it takes you. You shudder at the thought and clench your fists, forcing yourself to focus on the present. You can't let your mind wander down that path. Not now. Not ever.

On the third night though, you wake up drenched in sweat, shivering uncontrollably. Your head throbs like a drum. You stumble to your desk lamp with trembling hands and flick it on. The light seems too bright, hurting your eyes. You touch your forehead - it's burning hot. Panic rises in your throat as the horrible realisation hits: you're ill. You try to stand but your legs give out. Collapsing back onto your bed, you curl up into a ball, shaking and miserable. A wracking cough tears through your chest. This is only the beginning, you know. The fever is just the first symptom. More will follow, and then…

No. You can't think like that. You have to stay strong, stay hopeful. Surely someone will arrive soon. They have to. Until then, all you can do is ride out this fever in isolation, praying it doesn't get worse.

The next morning, you wake up feeling slightly better. The fever has broken, but your body feels heavy. You sit up and look around your room, but something feels off. It's like your room had shrunk overnight. You shake your head, trying to clear the fog. Maybe you just need to eat something. You try to sneak out to get some food, but your legs feel like jelly. With some effort, you make it to the kitchen and grab a few snacks. Back in your room, you sit on the edge of your bed and munch on some crisps. You feel a little better, but still not quite right. You can't ignore how hungry you feel, like you haven't eaten in days.

You check if your roommate Jake is around, but the apartment feels eerily empty. You can't quite remember when you last had a proper meal - the days seem to blur together lately. On impulse, you pull out your phone and place an order for a juicy burger and crispy fries, already savouring the taste in your mind. As you wait for the delivery, you glance at your bed and freeze. The sheets are soaked with sweat, the damp patch sprawling obscenely across the mattress. You stare at it in disbelief, then look down at yourself. Your shirt clings to your skin, drenched in perspiration. "It's just the heat", you mutter, trying to convince yourself. "Nothing to worry about."

You strip off your clothes and step into the shower, hoping the water will wash away the unsettling feeling. As the steam envelops you, you can't help but notice how your muscles ripple beneath your skin, more pronounced than before. You shake your head vigorously, splashing water everywhere. You step out and towel off, but a glance in the mirror makes you pause. Your skin has an almost unnatural sheen to it, glistening under the harsh bathroom lights.

You throw on fresh clothes and try to ignore how they feel tighter than usual. The doorbell rings - your food has arrived. You rush to answer it, eager for something normal to focus on. As you take the bag from the delivery person, you can't shake the feeling that their eyes linger on your body a moment too long before they leave.

Back in your room, you tear into the burger ravenously, barely tasting it as you devour every last bite. But as you finish and lick the grease from your fingers, a wave of dizziness hits you. You grab onto the desk for support, breathing heavily.

Now would be a good time to call that help line again.

You pick up your phone and start dialing, but as you do, a huge headache hits you. You drop the phone and clutch your head, groaning in pain. What's going on? You feel like you're losing your mind. You try to focus, but the pain is too much. You stumble back to your bed and collapse onto it, clutching your head. You can't think straight. As you close your eyes, your conciousness fades away, and you drift into a restless sleep…

You slowly blink open heavy eyelids, squinting against the harsh sunlight streaming through gaps in your blinds. Your skin feels hot and tingly, almost feverishly so. You groan as you try to sit up, muscles protesting from days of disuse, but there's a new tautness to them that catches you off guard.

Glancing down, you notice beads of sweat rolling down your bare chest, which seems… different somehow. More defined, more muscular than you remember. Your shirt clings to your skin, damp with perspiration. You peel it off with a grimace, the fabric sticking to your body.

Jake's concerned face swims into view as he leans over you. "Dude, wake up," he says, his voice sounding distant through the ringing in your ears. He looks different too - more chiselled, bigger pecs than usual. "You've been out of it for like, three days straight."

Three days? The thought sends a flicker of panic through you, but it's quickly drowned out by the strange sensations coursing through your body. You lick your dry, cracked lips and try to speak, but your voice comes out as a raspy croak.

"Water…" you manage to grate out. Jake grabs a glass from your nightstand and holds it to your mouth. As you drink greedily, you can feel the cool liquid sloshing in your expanded chest, which rises and falls rapidly with each breath.

Jake sets the glass aside and frowns, his brow creasing in a way that makes him look almost stern. "I had to break down the door, man" - he says, gesturing to the splintered wood and broken furniture littering your room. The sight makes your head pound harder.

Fragmented memories flash through your mind, but they slip away like sand through a sieve, leaving you grasping at nothing. "I… I don't remember," you mumble, rubbing your temples. Little do you realise though, the virus had been violently rewriting your DNA while you were passed out, transforming you into a muscular, hyper-sexualized parody of masculinity - a hung, dumb jock bro with no thoughts beyond chasing his next high.

Jake frowns, his brow creasing in a way that makes him look almost stern. "Well, try to eat something. I made you some chicken soup - your favourite." He nods towards the steaming bowl on your desk.

You swing your legs over the side of the bed with a grunt, muscles screaming in protest. The room spins dizzily around you, and you grab onto the mattress for support. In the mirror across from you, you catch a glimpse of your reflection - gaunt face, wild eyes, and a body that looks… different somehow.

As you lift the spoon to your mouth, you can feel Jake watching you intently. The soup tastes bland compared to how ravenous you feel. You polish off the bowl in record time and slam it down on the desk. Sweat pours down your face and chest, soaking into the sheets beneath you. Your muscles twitch and flex involuntarily, as if eager to be put to use.

Jake's eyes widen as he takes in your physique - the bulging pecs glistening with sweat, the rock-hard abs clenching and unclenching with each labored breath. "Dude… you're fucking jacked," he marvels, reaching out to run a hand over your slick chest.

You moan at his touch, arching into it like a cat in heat. Your nipples are hard, almost painfully so, and ache for more stimulation. Jake seems to sense this - he leans down and drags his tongue over one of the sensitive nubs, making you gasp.

"Fuck bro, you taste so good" - he growls, laving attention on your chest with lips and teeth and tongue. "I just wanna… fuck…" He grinds against you, his own arousal evident through his straining pants.

Your head lolls back against the pillow as Jake worships your body, lost in a haze of sensation. The fever rages through you, stoking the fires of lust burning in your veins.

Jake sits up abruptly and strips off his shirt, revealing his own impressive physique. "Gotta get these sweaty clothes off," he grunts, shimmying out of his pants to reveal a massive erection straining against tight wet underwear.

He dives back onto the bed, covering your body with his own sweat-slicked one. You can feel every hard plane and ridge of muscle pressing against you as he kisses you deeply, hungrily.

You gasp at the sensation, your hips bucking up involuntarily to meet his. Your cock throbs, harder and bigger than you've ever been before. Jake licks his lips as he feels it straining against the fabric.

"Holy shit, you're hung too," he marvels, palming you through your pants. "Fuck bro, I just wanna suck you off so bad."

He starts tugging at your pants impatiently and you lift your hips to help him, mind hazing over with a desperate need for stimulation. As your massive cock springs free, Jake's eyes widen and he licks his lips hungrily.

"Damn dude, that's fucking huge," he breathes before diving down and swallowing as much of you as he can.

You groan loudly, head falling back against the pillow as Jake works your shaft with sloppy enthusiasm. Your hands tangle in his hair, holding him in place as you start to thrust shallowly into his mouth.

"Fuck yeah, suck my cock bro," you grunt, voice deeper and more aggressive than usual. "Gonna fucking nut down your throat."

Jake moans around you, sending delicious vibrations through your aching flesh. He takes you deeper, nose pressing against your pelvis as he swallows around your length.

It doesn't take long before you're cumming hard, vision whiting out as you shoot thick ropes of cum directly into Jake's stomach. He gulps it down greedily, not spilling a single drop.

As the waves of pleasure subside, you collapse back onto the bed, panting heavily. Jake crawls up your body with a shit-eating grin, licking his lips.

"Fuck dude, that was intense," he says, voice rough from the thorough cock-sucking. "You taste so fucking good."

He leans down to kiss you and you find yourself returning it eagerly, tongue delving into his mouth to taste yourself on him. Jake grinds against you, his own erection straining against his pants.

"Gonna fuck you now," he growls against your lips. "Gonna pump you full of my cum until you're dripping with it."

You moan in agreement, too far gone to care about anything else. As Jake lines himself up with your hole, you realise that all you want, all you need, is to be filled by him completely. Your body aches for it, craving the stretch and the fullness only his massive cock can provide. You look up at him with lidded eyes, pupils full of lust.

And as Jake slams into you balls-deep on the first thrust, you scream in ecstasy and surrender yourself completely to the transformation. Your old life fades away like a distant dream, replaced by this new existence of constant arousal and indulgence with your best bro.

Jake sets a brutal pace, pounding into you with animalistic grunts and growls. The room fills with the obscene sounds of skin slapping against skin and both of your wanton moans. You meet each thrust eagerly, relishing the delicious burn of the stretch and the intense pleasure-pain of being used so roughly.

"Fuck yeah, take my cock you dumb slut," Jake snarls, gripping your hips hard enough to bruise as he rails into you. "Gonna fucking breed this pussy."

You can only moan in response, too lost in sensation to form words. Your own cock bobs lewdly with each thrust, drooling pre-cum onto your stomach. Jake leans down and captures your lips in a filthy kiss, all teeth and tongue as he continues his relentless assault on your ass.

The coil of pleasure winds tighter and tighter in your gut until finally it snaps, your second orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave. You scream into Jake's mouth as you cum untouched, your cock pulsing out thick ropes of jizz between your bodies.

Jake hilts inside you one last time before stilling, his cock throbbing and twitching as he shoots load after heavy load deep into your guts. You can feel the heat of it flooding your insides, marking you as his property.

And as Jake rolls off you with a satisfied grunt, already snoring softly, you drift off into a deep, dreamless sleep, unaware of how different your life will be from now on. Your old aspirations and inhibitions have been replaced by a single-minded desire to spread this feeling of warmth in your groin, to be with your bros, to lift and pump, to fuck, and man… you're a total stud now. Tomorrow you'll probably go to the gym and pump some iron with your best bro Jake - and you couldn't have it any other way.

[thewitchblue]

"Why'd he send you?"

Bruce asked bluntly, his Batman suit on with his gaggle of children evasdropping in the background not-so-subtly. I quirked an unamused eyebrow at the bulky man in front of me.

"It just so happens that I owed Constantine a favour. Do you want my help, or do you want to deal with your little demon friend all by yourself?"

Batman huffs an amused laugh. This is the best demonologist Constantine claims in the world? Red Robin asked Nightwing in a mutter,

"I'm not seeing things, am I?"

Apparently, he didn't think I'd hear him. I smirked as I turned my attention to the older Robin. He nervously shifted his weight when my intense gaze watches him, before becoming a bit panicked once he realized he physically cannot move away from me as I approach. I eye him up-and-down with appreciation before saying,

"You're cute, Little Red. Let's get coffee sometime. After I banish this fucker, of course."

This seemed to surprise everyone in the cave, but my focus was back to the demon Batman managed to get an attachment to.

"Now, how did you manage to get this fucker attached to you? Were you feeling especially lonely and struck a deal?"

I eye Batman curiously. Red Hood chuckles in amusement, but I choose to ignore him. There is a weird tension in the room when Red Hood and Batman make eye contact, so I clear my throat loudly to draw attention back to me as I study the cage that the demon is currently trapped in it. He managed to isolate and contain the demon, so that's a start. He sighs and explains,

"No, I'm not lonely enough to stoop so low."

I give an acknowledging hum. My eyes stay trained on the demon. It was rattling the cage it was imprisoned in, hissing and cursing at me while I approach it.

"Let's just ask the demon then, shall we?"

I stop in front of the demon and ask it,

"Now, what deal did you two make?"

The demon merely growled in response. I growl back at it, reaching into its body and squeezing its heart until it whimpered. I hiss,

"Answer me."

Its gravelly voice said,

"I was promised a new body by an alternative Batman. Clearly, I made a wrong turn."

I purred as I released my grip,

"Good boy."

Batman frowned in thought, but stayed silent by my side. He seemed to already have an idea of who struck the deal.

"Now, which Batman promised you this wanker?"

The demon snarls,

"He goes by Owlman. He merely promised me a Batman."

I give a thoughtful hum as I fully remove my hand from its heart, wiping off the dark blood from my hand.

"Well, that turned out swimmingly for you, didn't it?"

It snarled in response to my false sympathy. Red Hood snorts at my antics. He seemed to be entertained by the entire situation.

"Well, it appears your little deal wasn't fully thought out. I'm sending you back. Next time, possess Owlman instead."

I murmur my spell softly to myself before snapping in a particular pattern. The demon howled before it dissipates like mere smoke. I crack my knuckles nervously before turning back to the Batfamily and saying,

"If you need my services again, ask Little Red over there. He has my number."

Red Robin looked confused until he reached into his pocket and felt the slip of paper I planted on him. He pulls the slip of paper out of his pocket to the dismay of everyone in the cave. I send a wink his way once his disbelieving eyes turn back to me.

With a wave of my hand, I disappear from their cave before anyone could reply. Truthfully, I was a tad nervous to hear his reply. I'm still rusty when dealing with the living after spending so many years trapped in a metaphorical cage with anti-magic wards. Before John saved my sorry arse, I was entrapped for pissing off the wrong crowd.

I have much more experience with the dead and celestial as a result. They are a lot easier to figure out and handle than regular human beings.

Tim had never been more conflicted. Granted, he didn't have anyone who showed genuinely interest in him like this demon hunter. He had to applaud the flawless effort.

"Aww, you two would be so cute!"

Dick said with an encouraging grin. Dick, of course, was excited and happy for his brother. He wraps an arm around him in a side hug before letting go and saying,

"You should reach out! The chemistry between you two reminds me of myself and Starfire."

Jason rolls his eyes and fakes gags at Dick's brotherly excitement. Despite his annoyed exterior, he still defends Tim,

"You care too much, Grayson. Let my replacement come to his own decisions."

Tim gives a shy smile. The demonologist was rather cute and he appreciates the boldness and the stealth it took to even slip the note in his pocket. He softly says,

"Maybe I will."

[kiyomitakada]

hi everyone so ages ago i translated watari's diary from the movie tie-in material L File No. 15 (sourced from this post by @mikami) but i just realized i never posted it here?? of all places??? so here you go! i recommend reading this translation along with the screenshots from that post since there are pictures that i did not bother actually including.

(spoilers for the live action films!)

---

QUILLISH WAMMY'S DIARY

The following diary was included in the discovered files. It is thought to have been written by Quillish Wammy (who is said to have gone by "Watari" while acting as L's intermediary), but as with the previous files, it contains information of dubious veracity.

May 7, 1973

Recently, I find myself thinking idle thoughts.

The metal I invented, which is superconducting under 28.7°C, is now used in 87% of electrical cables worldwide. It has brought me great wealth. Too much to know what to do with, I feel. No matter how much money I accumulate, there is no way to buy a human life, so I can't imagine any interesting way I could spend it.

May 12, 1973

Today, I had a revelation.

My talents mainly skew towards the sciences, and there are many things I can do with them, but also many things I cannot. But what if I use my wealth and my enthusiasm to raise new talents? Then there will certainly be one or two who can achieve things I cannot. Extremely interesting. To what extent can humans cultivate their talents? This is what I should dedicate the rest of my life to finding out.

I will gather children with talent and intelligence from all over the world — the brain develops very quickly from ages 9 to 13, so children around that age range should work best — and educate them thoroughly. Eventually, I believe, they will be able to change the world. Perhaps I will call the institution Wammy's House.

[Notes on the children]

F: Strong sense of justice, and quick to action — which is why he can make mistakes.

R: Has recently shown interest in astronomy. Has fallen asleep while looking through a telescope before, and thus contracted a cold. Twice.

K: Talented in multiple fields. Has perfectly understood almost everything I teach. I have not yet determined which area she is most skilled in — very exciting.

*1 (T/N: shaky translation): Many researchers have reason to believe members of Wammy's House are referred to by single letters of the alphabet. However, there is no consensus as to what extent these nicknames were used. Some suggest only Quillish Wammy and the person themselves recognized the nickname.

February 23, 1987

Today, I have learned a lesson. Sometimes an overly nurtured talent goes beyond the will of the person who nurtured it. [T/N: I genuinely can't tell if he's talking about the kid raising their talent or Watari raising the kid] K has left Wammy's House of her own volition. This is the first time something like this has happened since I founded Wammy's House. I feel a strong sense of loss.

---

[Notes on the children, 2]

D: Mainly talented in physics. Frequently smashes radio-controlled models, possibly to conduct their own experiments. The degree of destruction is being monitored.

P: Often found with their nose buried in a novel. I think I will try teaching them psychology once they are a little older. It would be nice if they showed some interest in profiling.

L: Invests in stocks. Clearly talented, but so far an unknown variable.

July 10, 1994

Currently, out of all the children, L holds most of my interest.

While he does show interest in existing fields of study, he is even more enthusiastic about using his own methods (adjacent to statistics) to make deductions. Right now, he is spending the most time on criminal investigations. He is working against actual human beings, which is why the cases are so complex and difficult to unravel… He seems immensely fascinated by this.

L, when in pursuit of an objective, is able to immediately determine the necessary information. L. You are my hope.

August 13, 2005

L has selected FBI agent Naomi Misora for the Los Angeles B.B. Murder Cases. It seems he did so in recognition of her bravery and deductive abilities. L dislikes unnecessary physical exertion, since he wants to keep his mind functioning as quickly as possible. Thus, he has to rely on others to act as his agents on the scene. Naomi is reliable.

[A photo of Naomi, along with the text:]

Naomi Misora FBI Investigator Achieved investigator status unusually quickly Specialty: Marksmanship Intelligent and passionate

---

February 26, 2006

I was present at an ICPO conference today. The focus was exclusively on the "Kira case." Criminals all over the world are dying of simultaneous heart attacks. Some members of the public might call this "judgment," but it is murder. L is very intrigued by this new type of crime.

*2: The Kira case, as detailed in the other files, refers to the phenomenon where criminals globally die of simultaneous heart attacks. Rumors flew around the Internet claiming that "'Kira' is our savior and carries out justice," and the name was attached to the phenomenon even though this was not actually proven yet. Since the case affected the entire world and was growing in momentum rapidly, the ICPO's response was necessarily rushed.

March 2, 2006

It seems Naomi Misora and Raye Iwamatsu are now engaged. They are planning to hold the ceremony in Japan. Naomi says she is retiring from the FBI. That took me by surprise.

I am unsure how L feels about Naomi's decision, but he has chosen her for his plan to make contact with Kira. Raye will be the driver. I'm sure Naomi will carry out the plan perfectly. Yes, L's choice is correct. But making a bride approach a murderer… making her groom drive her there…

L. That calmness in you is what I hoped for, what I raised. Still. Is hesitation not an option for you?

March 10, 2006

It's been raining since morning. It's coming down in sheets. I haven't seen such weather for a long time.

L believes there is a 97% probability Kira is in Japan, so we are headed there. Even so… Why did L say something like that? He never says things so sentimental, so unsettling… Could it be that he can see something I can't even imagine lurking in the future of this case? L, why did you say, "I might not be able to come back?" You are only in charge of directing the investigation. There's no reason to think you will come face to face with danger.

The lesson I learned from K is once again swirling in my head. Sometimes an overly nurtured talent will go somewhere I cannot follow…

L. Tell me you weren't thinking straight. Please. Tell me it was just the rain.

---

April 1, 2006

The twelve FBI agents who L ordered to tail the families and associates of the Japanese police have all died simultaneously of heart attacks. …Including Raye Iwamatsu… It was a shock, considering the pattern up to now, that Kira would kill so many human beings who weren't criminals. I think L wasn't able to predict it either.

I tried expressing my condolences to Naomi Misora over the phone, but I couldn't reach her. I am worried.

April 2, 2006

L met the Japanese investigators in person. Starting from now, he will work together with them to advance the investigation. L has never shown his real face to anyone before now. I can feel his anxiety about this case radiating off this decision. Or perhaps it's impatience?

L asked them to call him Ryuzaki.

[Notes on the Japanese investigators]

Soichiro Yagami: Chief of the task force assigned to the "Kira case." Overflowing with a particularly Japanese sense of justice. Trustworthy.

Ukita

Aizawa

Sanami: The only woman on the investigation team. A little too kind.

Mogi

Matsuda: A hot-headed young man. Slightly too presumptuous.

---

April 11, 2006

L is fixated on Light Yagami. He says that the probability of Light being Kira is only around 1% to 3%, but from his behavior, I can't help but think it must be higher. But although I suppose Light is decently intelligent, he's nothing more than a regular college student. To even consider the possibility of him being a mass murderer, there has to be some additional factor — an inconceivable one.

What is it?

Are we fighting against something entirely new?

[A photo of Light, along with the text:]

Light Yagami Student majoring in law at To-Oh University. A prodigy — he has already passed the bar exam. Hates to lose; focuses on winning in everything. His father is the chief of the task force, Soichiro Yagami.

[Memo so I don't forget my orders]

An emergency order from L. Written below so I don't make a single mistake.

Macarons (DALLOMIU) x 12 boxes

Marshmallows (MEIGI-YA) x 12 bags

Donuts (Donkin Donuts) x 12 bags

Black tea (F and N) x 12 cans

Potato chips (Golbee) (specifically BBQ flavor) x 2 bags

[T/N: The potato chips are the type Light eats in The Chip Scene — they're consomme in the original Japanese (both manga and diary) but BBQ in the Viz translation, which I'm going with.]

*3: The Donkin Donuts company shut down all its stores in Japan in 1998. Therefore, this memo conflicts with the range of time in which L and Quillish Wammy were thought to be in Japan. Whether this is a mistake on Wammy's part or an indication that the diary is of unreliable origin is still a topic of discussion.

April 15, 2006

I think the incomprehensibility of what happened today will stay with me for the rest of my life. Naomi Misora shot herself. It was after she told L, "I'll use my own life to prove that Light Yagami is Kira." But Naomi wasn't able to prove anything.

She must have, in her own way, found something confirming her theory. Considering her actions up to now, she wouldn't have made such a declaration without some kind of proof. But she took Light's girlfriend hostage at the museum. She killed her. And then she took her own life. Why would she do such a thing?

It wasn't like her. No matter how I think about it, it wasn't like her. She looked almost… confused, right before her death. Not like Naomi at all.

[Photo of Shiori, a movie-only character!]

Shiori Akino Student majoring in law at To-Oh University. Dating Light Yagami. Possesses a strong sense of justice and articulates her ideals clearly. Postscript: Was shot and killed by Naomi Misora at the Oumei Museum of Art.

*4: Naomi Misora's murder of Shiori Akino and subsequent suicide is the greatest mystery of this case. As Quillish Wammy wrote here, the question "Why did Naomi kill Shiori?" is still entirely unexplained; some have even proposed that it had no connection to the Kira case at all. Also, in regards to Shiori, it bears mentioning that some believe she was dating Light Yagami while others believe they were simply classmates.

---

April 18, 2006

The construction of the Kira Response Building is complete. We will be moving the investigation headquarters there.

[Memo with cutouts so I don't forget]

[T/N: As you can see in the Tumblr screenshots, this page of the diary is entirely filled with cutouts from advertisements showing different parts of L's outfit.]

[picture of jeans]: The feeling of a new working style, a dominating sense of existence — Loose silhouette, straight frame. Its special characteristic is the five pockets it boasts on the front. Two of the pockets are integrated into the seams on the sides for a working-style taste. There is an adjuster in the back so you can adjust the size slightly.

[T/N: I tried for ages to figure out if this meant 5 or 7 pockets total, and then I decided accurate translation of an advertisement for jeans in the tie-in material for a movie spinoff for a 2000s manga wasn't worth this effort.] [No offense, L.]

[picture of sneakers]: A strong impact! Each step brimming with confidence — These shoes are made with the ripstop fabric used in military wear. It won't tear, no matter how much you wear the shoes out. Additionally, the camo pattern is piece-dyed with black and deliberately scuffed, giving it a tasteful finished look.

[picture of white sweater]: It looks good in any season: a must buy item — Silhouette is loose enough to hide the lines of your body. The neckline is also loose, so wearing it is a delightfully relaxed experience. The white color has outstanding compatibility with denim.

[picture of Hyottoko mask] Hyottoko mask

[doodle of white bag]

[picture of a chessboard] CHESS: The definitive version of the battle of minds

---

April 29, 2006

An individual calling themselves "the Second Kira" has sent video tapes to TV stations. Their patterns are clearly different from those of the Kira who has acted up to now. According to L's theory, while the previous Kira needed a face and a name for the murder, this Kira only needs to see someone's face to kill them.

Also, Light Yagami is now part of the task force. Light can't forgive Kira for taking his girlfriend's life. He's burning with determination to solve the case. He really is a smart teenager.

I wonder which L feels more for him: sympathy or competitiveness. Even I can't tell.

*5: In this time period, there were several unexplainable events, documented by the news and TV broadcasts in Japan at the time. For example, several police officers died of sudden heart attacks near the doorstep of the TV station that was broadcasting a message from the person claiming to be "the Second Kira" (including a detective whose name appeared in the earlier "Notes on the Japanese investigators"). It is thought that L's theory that "this Kira only needs to see someone's face [...]," as documented by Quillish Wammy above, was based on this incident.

May 11, 2006

Misa Amane has been arrested under suspicion of being the Second Kira. She is in confinement. The Japanese investigators seem somewhat opposed to this method. L is feeling cornered. It makes me anxious.

[Photo of Misa Amane, smiling in a sleeveless skull-and-crossbones shirt]

Misa Amane Idol There was an advertisement on the bus for fashion magazines with her on their covers. She seems to be a rather well-known figure in Japan.

Postscript: I have acquired Misa's photo albums, CDs, and DVDs as evidence. I passed them to L. L has not informed me of any new data from this analysis, but he has been playing the CD.

---

June 2, 2006

L announced to the investigators that "as of now, I have concluded that Light Yagami and Misa Amane are not Kira."

Light will still stay in the Kira Response Building to help with the investigation. L has accepted this. Could it be that L has recognized that someone else is on his level for the first time? I am happy for him, but also have complicated feelings about this. Is it possible that Light has become L's first-ever friend?

June 9, 2006

The Kira murders continue. L has been chewing his nails more often lately.

L, you should already know this: you do not need to carry the burden of all the world's crimes on your shoulders.

June 26, 2006

Light Yagami's theory may be our breakthrough in the case. His line of investigation has turned up a name: a Sakura TV newscaster, Kiyomi Takada.

[Photo of Kiyomi Takada, smiling placidly on a news channel, hands folded together]

Kiyomi Takada Newscaster for Sakura TV

She became the current face of the news channel EVENING SPOT after her predecessor Saeko Nishiyama's sudden death in a car accident. She quickly began hosting segments supporting Kira. She lives alone in a condo within the city.

---

June 30, 2006

You could say my scientific skills have started to rust, but as an inventor who tries to always think things through logically, I am feeling bewildered. There are "Shinigami," gods of death, who exist in this world. The Shinigami each carry a notebook, which is called a "Death Note." And the human whose name is written in the Death Note will die.

What on Earth? We've been up against Shinigami this whole time?

L was shocked. Unusual for him. But when I saw that surprise on his face, I actually felt relieved. At least Wammy's House — my creation — has not taken the capability for shock away from him.

Death Note: How to Use (Rules) — a partial excerpt

[T/N: Translations mostly copied from the Death Note wiki, with minor edits]

The human whose name is written in this note shall die.

If the cause of death is written within the next 40 seconds (in human-realm units) of writing the person's name, it will happen.

If the cause of death is not specified, the human will simply die of a heart attack.

After writing the cause of death, details of the death should be written in the next 6 minutes and 40 seconds.

If the time of death is written within 40 seconds after writing the cause of death — even if the cause of death is a heart attack — the time of death can be manipulated, and the death can go into effect even less than 40 seconds after writing the name.

The note will not take effect unless the writer has the person's face in their mind when writing his/her name. Therefore, people sharing the same name will not be affected.

The owner of the note can shorten their own life by using the note.

Even someone who does not own the note can use it by writing a name and thinking of a face, with the same effect as if they were the owner of the note.

After a name is written in the note, it cannot be changed.

The time of death written in the note must be within 23 days (in human-realm units).

July 3, 2006

Misa Amane has been released from the Kira Response Building.

July 4, 2006

The strange situation of a Shinigami coming in and out of the Kira Response Building has continued. I can't help but feel restless seeing a huge, white silhouette wandering about. This Shinigami is not cooperating with us, but isn't trying to hinder us either, it seems.

There have been multiple persistent calls for L to assist with the investigation into Princess Joan's overturned yacht. But L seems uninterested in any other cases right now. I have filed the investigation requests where he won't see them.

---

July 7, 2006

[This entry was translated here by @lunalit-river. I'll copy it over, but please show some love to the original post!]

L.

Was this the outcome of giving you the opportunity to learn? Was it arrogant of me to think that I had given you everything you needed? A genius without parents or relatives, without food or education, a genius who may have had a miserable past. Was I wrong?

L wrote his name in the Death Note.

Was this all for victory? Was this all for justice?

To fight something supernatural like the Death Note, it is true that we must arm ourselves with something that is also beyond human understanding.

It is highly possible that Light Yagami will write L's name in the Death Note. In theory, L must write his name in the Death Note first to prevent Light from doing so.

But don't human emotions have a tendency to refuse to accept the truth and instead hope to twist logic and theory?

L. Don't you ever place your emotions prior to your goals?

L. I never meant for things to end this way. Your talent has surpassed mine, and now you are consuming yourself. But I…

Today I learned F's death. Am I about to lose you, too? I have never felt so powerless as I do now.

L. I am confused. When I established Wammy's House, I might not have anticipated this.

I learned a lot from being with you, L, just as parents learn a lot from their children.

L. Just one sentence is enough. Please tell me you want to live.

L. L…

July 7, 2006

L Lawliet Heart failure Dies 23 days from now, peacefully, in his sleep

---

July 10, 2006

This is the end of the case, isn't it? Everything has been arranged. I will bring Misa to headquarters, and as long as Soichiro Yagami and the other Japanese investigators do as L says, everything should go perfectly. Tonight, the Kira case will be solved.

I have learned from L, who moves towards his goal still, indifferent in the face of death. I too will not waver.

L still has 20 days left. I'll spend them with him. Not because of everything I gave him in his lifetime, but because of everything I deprived him of. I can devote all my time to him now.

L, what do you want to do? You can play silly games, if you want. You can go make friends. If you don't mind my old age, I would gladly be your friend. Or your

Do you want to see sights you've never seen before? Do you want to feel breezes you've never felt? [T/N: He switches to polite speech just for this paragraph. Back to regular now.]

Get up from that way you always sit; let's go outside. Everything I took from you — the small, the inconsequential, the boring things — and the beautiful, dear ones too: let's go find them together. It's okay if you don't have any conclusions to draw. I just want you to have fun. To love the world in front of you. To savor it.

L. That's right. Just like a father and son on holiday.

I've been writing in this diary for forty years. I think I will stop in twenty days. I can't imagine anything I would want to write about, anything I should write about, would happen after that.

Alright. I'd better go and bring Misa over.

This is where the diary ends. The Kira case has been dormant ever since the last entry here.

[blueandyellow7]

byler theories, my beloved

so i saw this picture on pinterest

And it made me think of these pictures

In the og post, it says that at the end of s4, El is shedding Mikes color to symbolize her entering an independent arc.

And in the leak (left) you can see that it is the same shirt as the leak on the right. In s5, Will is shedding his layers to reveal the blue underneath, symbolizing his new arc with Mike.

[fawninthesnow]

𝐋𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐋𝐚𝐦𝐛: One Shot

𐙚 Leon Kennedy x Fem! Reader 𐙚 18+

Summary: You and your subordinate, Leon, get trapped in an elevator.

Warnings/contains: enemies to lovers, sub! male, dom fem, slow-ish burn, oral (fem reciv!), nipple play, teasing, feet kink, constriction, physical restraints, mentions of past relationship, not proof read-- english is not my first language!

Word Count: 3k // More on my Master list! + follow & reblog pls

He tapped his forefingers on his desk and attempted to avoid eye contact with the clock. ‘Only thirty past one? You must be kidding me!’ He thought to himself as the day seemed to drag by. His right heel bounced on and off the office carpeting. Through the glass windows of your office, and with rather annoyed eyes, you glared at him. At this point, he wasn’t even *pretending* to do work!

‘Leonardo Scott Kennedy!’ You thought as your ears grew warm.

You turned your attention to the man across from your desk. “We will prioritize the hostages when it comes to the press, Admiral Macklemore.”

“It is my understanding that whatever information enters this office…does not leave.”

“In this case, such information will not leave my desk.” The older man chuckled, extending a hand across the desk to you. You shook his hand passionately as you stood.

*

“What are you doing out here?” Leon gasped and quickly hid his lighter and pack of smokes. In the alley beside the office building, you folded your arms, staring down at him. “I asked what you were doing while on MY clock?”

“Yes, I know, I- I just need a break.” He wouldn’t dare try to light his cigarette now that you were here.

“You have just come back from lunch.” The fold of your arms got tighter. “Look, I—Leon. I am trying my best to help you out.” The man leaned back onto the brick wall behind you; your back was turned to him. “Don’t you think you owe me this? For putting you back on your feet?” You asked without looking back at him.

“I’m doin’ what I can, [].”

He pulled the cuffs of his sleeves down and slipped his coat on. You turned around and frowned at Leon. “I want you to go home for the day.”

He rose off the wall, “Wait. I- I’m sorry! But I cannot go home.”

“You are fucking with my image; again. Just go home for the day.” You walked past him and made your way into the office building. He quickly followed you and took your arm into his clutch, “Leon.”

“[Y/n]. Please.” His chest heaved with urgency. Seeing his hurt and confused expression only irritated you. The elevator doors opened, and you hit your heel against the wedge, keeping it open. Your body leaned onto him as you read his expression.

“Let go of me.” You whispered. He pulled from you and stood by your side in the elevator. In silence, you glared at his reflection in the metal doors. He looked at your reflection with shame.

“I wish you would give me a second to explain myself.”

“Tsk.”

He turned to you. “That’s it? That’s all I get?” You continued to face the doors of the elevator, begging them to reach your floor so you could leave. “You don’t exactly make this work environment ‘Leon-friendly’.”

“What an ungrateful thing to say.” A sly smirk on your lips as the elevator doors opened. He moved in front of you and pushed his fingers on the emergency close button. You grumbled as the doors shut once again and began its travel to the first floor upon his request. “What is the meaning of this?”

“You want me to fail.”

You laughed to yourself before a nervous chuckle left your lips. “I- no! Of course not!”

“[Y/n], I am not dumb. You want me to leave the military.” He said gruffly, an annoyed edge to his tone. You stepped back into a corner and folded your arms. “What is your problem?”

“My problem? Hmm, I’d say: my disobedient employee.”

“I am more than that to you, [Y/n].” He swiped his thumb over the corner of your lips. You pulled from him. “We used to be partners.”

You shook your head. “We were *partnered*, there is a difference. You hated working with others. That is why I am—”

“Behind a desk?”

“No! You are. I am head of Security for the—”

“Temporarily. Even so, it means nothing to you. You would rather be in the field too, don’t lie to yourself!” You turned your back to him and pressed every button on the elevator. Anything to make this stop! You lifted your fingers from the buttons and stared at the numbers on the screen. “Look at that…” Leon stood behind you and put his hands in his pockets. Your eyebrows furrowed as the numbers blinked. “You…broke it.”

“W- what? What the fuck?!” Your hair flipped quickly as you turned around to him. “How do we get off?!” He shrugged. “No…no!” You turned over your wrist and read the time on your watch. “I have a meeting!” He said nothing as you panicked and fished in your skirt pocket for your pager.

He watched as your pencil skirt held your waist and pulled with the tug of your fingers. “No service in an elevator.”

“Perfect.” You tapped your heel, “No, this is just perfect! Once again, you have proven yourself as a nuisance!” He rolled his eyes along with you.

On either side of the elevator, you two leaned back onto the wood paneling. Your gaze was on the wall beyond Leon and his eyes were on you. Around fifteen minutes had passed by now and no call to the elevator came. No one knew about the broken elevator nor where you or your subordinate were. “You critique me harshly.” Leon said to break the silence.

“Think of it as my way of looking after you.” You crouched onto the floor and settled your back against the wall once more.

He looked down at you. Even so, from your crouched position, you still held his attention in a chokehold. “That right? Thank you, mommy dearest.” He said with a lick of sarcasm. You smiled and kicked your heel off towards him. He caught the shoe and sat on the floor of the elevator. You observed him as he studied your heel. “Saint Laurent. Six inches…? Why do you need to be so high off the ground? You are tall for a woman.” He tilted his head; blonde hair fell over his eye.

“I do not think of such things when I am shopping.”

“Yeah? Because these are custom.” He turned the shoe to her; the commercial tags were all gone, as well as the label. “So, some thought must’ve been put in.”

You took your shoe back from him. “Do not profile me. I am not your friend. I clear your checks.” You reminded him before turning away from his blue eyes.

“Right.”

Minutes passed and the temperature rose slightly in the elevator. Leon removed his coat and tossed it to the side. You undid the top two buttons of your blouse and fanned yourself. He watched as the flap of your collar rose and fell with the wind created from your hand.

“Would you like me to help?” He glared at your breasts; you weren’t too fond of wearing bras. As you sighed, sweat ran down your tits and to your abdomen where it was caught by your shirt.

“In what way can you be of use, lapdog?” You sighed and stood by the panel of buttons beside the elevator doors. You took off your other shoe and placed it in the corner. His eyes shifted to your feet in your tanned stockings. One heel was lifted and the other planted. “Stop watching me.” You said softly as you used a pen from your blouse to pry at the paneling. His firm and warm bulge pressed on the front of his pants; his hands covered the sight. He squeezed his red knuckles and try to calm his curiosity, his filthy imagination.

He grew warm under his shirt and dropped his gaze. “I apologize.” Leon attempted to stay as still as possible, however, the harder he tried, the more he twitched.

“Come help me.” He rose from off the wall and kneeled beside your legs. “Do your best to fix this.”

He scratched his scalp before revealing the cords. “T- there isn’t much I can do if I- uhm,” You crossed your legs and leaned over him. “A…breaker.” Your hair reached his; your dark hair overlapped his.

“A what?”

“Like uhm, the thing with the rows of switches.”

You rolled your eyes, “You and I both know that you can do something.”

He looked between you and the many wires. “But I don’t. Listen-“ He tried to stand, but lost his balance. You grabbed his arm and held him still. His cock rubbed down in his pants, gently massaging his shaft before he adjusted himself. When you pulled him upright, his sleeves rubbed against your stockings.

“You alright?”

“Yeah, I’m just lightheaded.” You looked up at the ventilation ceiling paneling.

“You’ll be ok.” You rubbed his shoulder. “Just try your best.” He sighed under your touch and relaxed his shoulders. He was used to this when he was partnered with you. Your words of encouragement filled his ears as he worked on whatever task you gave him. He messed with the paneling for a short time before the numbers stopped flashing and the lights to all the floors shut off. He turned to you before the lights of the elevator shut off.

You looked around the elevator before using the light from your pager. “We might be stuck in here for a while longer, Leo.” He turned his gaze to the floor immediately and began to breathe in and out of his mouth. “Relax, I am sure now that the power is out, security will be alerted.”

He covered his mouth as a pant slipped out of him. He leaned back against the wall and observed your face in the light of your pager; the streaming light was a way to see the shape of your body in your curvy shadow. You are feminine like that, alluring in that manner; it was hard to keep his gaze from you. Just the way you filled your clothes; any slick comment would roll off him. He lusted you, still does. It was embarrassing. All this time and yet he still hasn’t fucked you. The guys on the taskforce would clown him for it because fortunately, you weren’t *easy*, and unfortunately, he was.

Say the word, give him the greenlight and he would drop his pants with no hesitation. But it was that part of him you knew and hated so much. You like the chase, the hunger.

*

You sat on the floor, and he stood in the adjacent corner. He managed to relax his bulge and his nerves. There was no saying how long it would be until someone came! He looked at you, your skin looked wet with sweat, some strands of hair stuck along your collarbones, neck and forehead. He noticed hair that stuck to your bosom and how it curled on your unbuttoned blouse.

His own blonde hair stuck to his forehead and down his neck. “How are you feeling?” Your pager rested in the middle of the floor as a beacon.

“Cool as a cucumber.” You muttered. He kneeled by your side and undid the cuffs of your sleeves and rolled them up your arms. “Thank you.”

“Anytime.”

“…I don’t want you to leave the military.” He listened as you undid the cuffs on his sleeves and raised them. “I am making no progress. You’re right. I don’t want to be surrounded by the same things as when I was on the taskforce.”

“Things? You mean me.”

“Whatever I do, I can’t get away from you.” He sat against your wall, and you stood. “That was not an invitation…”

He grumbled, tossing the idea over in his head before giving in to the urge, “Are you seeing anyone?”

You turned your eyes to his strong forearms; the black ink from his tattoos covers his tanned skin. “No.” You folded your arms and turned away. Sweat went down his temples as his head rests on the wall. “Has someone made their unfortunate way into your life?” He could only muster a smile as he scratched his head.

“Lines of ‘em.” He spoke back into your sarcasm. “Did you send for me?”

“Hm?” You turned your attention back to him.

“Did you make the request? For me to be in your office?” You were silent as you watched him closer. His blue eyes peered up at you from his position on the floor. “I’ll take that as a no.” He looked disheveled and you were sure you looked the same. “Contrary to what you believe, I am grateful to be here. I like seeing you every day, [Y/n].” He glared at your thighs, held so gently by the stocking up your legs.

“Oh? That’s interesting.”

“Why are you so…baseline with me?” His eyes flickered to your breasts for the first time in a few minutes.

You laughed, “I keep it simple.” A sigh left your mouth as you wiped sweat from your forehead.

"You’re scared of getting close to me again.” You shook your head and looked at the elevator doors, “You think I’ll abandon you…or not show up like in the field.” You ignored him as if he said nothing. “Talk to me.”

“Jesus, let me out!” You screamed and kicked the elevator doors. Leon stood behind you.

“Stop that.” He pulled your arm and moved you.

“You are insufferable! Let go of me!” He wrapped you in a bear hug from behind, keeping you still. As you kicked around, your feet a few inches off the ground, he grew distracted by your stockings that now had a rip in them, from your ankle and up your thigh. Your skirt raised just enough for him to see the design of the lace around your thighs. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.” You looked down at his arms that tightly held your torso. Your breasts rest on top of his tattooed forearms. Your ass rubbed against his pants with no regard for how stimulating that could be. “[Y/n]. Relax.” He moaned softly. “W- We will get out of here soon.” You pried at his hands and kicked him in the leg. He held onto you firmly and stood his ground. “Stop fighting me.”

Leon put you in a corner of the elevator and pressed onto you tightly. After some time, you stopped trying to move from his grip. A few sharp exhales left your mouth as he continued to hold you there. Your breasts pressed against the cold metal wall and your nipples grew sensitive. “…you have a boner.”

Leon checked himself before pulling away from you. “I- I am sorry.”

The pager died and you two’s only light source was now gone. You stood side by side before you reached for his hand. Planting his callused palm on your breast, you trembled.

Leon let out a deep exhale and turned to you. Although he couldn’t see much, he knew your gaze was on him. He felt your hard nipple beneath his touch and began to explore for himself. The man rubbed over your blouse and massaged your breast carefully. It did not take long before he pulled you to him. Your back was to his chest as he took both of your breasts in his hands. The man moaned as you grind your ass slowly over his crotch.

He popped the buttons of your blouse and carefully moved his middle fingers over your nipples. Your hands rest on his knees as he pecks kisses onto your moist skin.

Maybe it was the temperature of the elevator or just the closeness of his body, but your hair began to frizz from the humidity. But something was wrong. This felt…wrong.

When you pulled from him, Leon immediately reached for you again. “Calm down.” His eyes shut as he felt your nails, and gentle fingers on the back of his neck. You pushed him down and he rested on his knees.

Leon gently unzipped the back of your skirt and pulled it off. A deep groan came from his throat when you wrapped a leg around his neck. He buried his face in your panties; his strong nose pushed into the wetness on the lace you wore. “Mhhhh~” His hands caress your ass and hips as he tried to pull down your panties. “Please.” He sounded so pathetic. You usually hated that but this time…his words were like sweet nectar flowing onto you. “Let me take them off,

“No.”

Your reply didn’t discourage him, his hands gripped you tighter as his mouth latched to your cunt. A shivering moan left your lips as he continued. His lips found your clit, gently sucking as you pulsed in his mouth. The lace didn’t discourage him either, eating your cunt through the barrier.

He lost himself in the sounds of your moans and whispers; the taste of your cunt, a slight taste of sweat from your thighs, and the feel of your soft skin in his firm grip. You held onto his hair to keep stable, both of your legs around his neck. Leon helps you up with his shoulders and rose you against the wall. “O- oh, my god~” He tore at your panties with his teeth, his jaw clenched with determination. “L- Leon!” You heard to the fabric rip and felt his tongue dive into your cunt.

His warm and thick tongue made countless passes through you as if trying to milk your pussy of all its juice.  Your eyes fell back into your head; not that he needed to see this, but he could imagine it as you let out those pretty, and breathless moans. If anyone *was* outside the elevator, they could hear you clearly.

When his soft lips grazed up to your clitoris, and left tender kisses, he slowly eased one digit deep inside of you. Your nails dug into his scalp and your thighs closed tighter around his head. “M- more.” You whimpered.

I'm off my hiatus!!

Dom Leon next bc i've been writing both of them at the same time. Tried something new with the feet thing lol.

More on my Master list! + follow & reblog pls

[cosmicalily]

'bending to your heart' ot8 skz headcanons by @cosmicalily | skz as segments from my poetry

"a souvenir i gave to everyone i love, the walls of my heart are like museum corridors, the love that i gave you was art in my form" - 'marble arch' by erin lecount

author's note: my poetry is something i've been curating and writing for a long time, primarily as an emotional outlet and a secondary artform. these are segments from pieces in one of my collections titled 'asap* (*as softly as possible)' which i'm hoping to publish at some point in the near future as a physical book! ALSO TUMBLR IS FUCKING WITH THE FORMATTING AND MAKING SOME LETTERS BIGGER AND IM GONNA CRASH OUT AND CRY warnings: angst (discussions of mental health issues, primarily anxiety and depression)

chris as . . . 'medicine'

Even though they weren’t my problems, You became my problem, my scar to heal. Your prescription has ended, my love. You’ve been hurting me without noticing, Without meaning to. I’ve grown scared of you. I will miss you, although you may not miss me. But I look forward to relief.

minho as . . . 'tsuki (my moon)'

I can’t ever touch the moon With bare fingertips, But it’s always there, watching me. When the sun sets, I search for you. At night, I feel more fragile, More anxious, But your presence comforts me, From a huge distance away.

changbin as . . . 'bear'

Please don’t put on your armour, Tense your fists, Walk away. You’re still so soft, So loving. Do not let the people And things that hurt you Turn you into someone Who hurts others.

hyunjin as . . . 'starfish'

Oh, my love, You’re the brightest clementine on my tree. A little further back than the rest, But I’ll drag over a chair, Climb a branch, Dig through the velvety leaves just to find you. My starfish, You carry so much peace. As I sit by your side briefly, my head on your shoulder, I remind myself how much I treasure you.

jisung as . . . 'to float with my stars'

For whilst a night sky is beautiful, You can never count all the stars and You can never be certain of The multitudes it contains, Of what it has experienced, Of what colours it may explode into, When least provoked and When least wanted.

felix as . . . 'a thousand paper bows'

Delicate, yet so strong when knotted tight. Known for its flexibility, but not its permanence. Unlike ribbon, paper can tear. Paper does not fray the way a straight-cut ribbon does; But tiny rips can build, And a small tug or twist can undo everything. These tears cannot be fixed invisibly; A piece of clear tape is subtle, but still noticeable. Glue will dry with a residue; or dampen the paper.

seungmin as . . . 'the bus stop'

Subconsciously, I still wait for you, Even though you have long passed. I left the house too late, Spent too long tying my shoelaces, But you also came too early, And didn’t slow down when I ran, Chasing you. I’ll sit here for a while, Maybe pause every time I pass this bus stop, Just in case you come past again, Just in case this time is right.

jeongin as . . . 'chuu (kiss my cheek)'

But thank you for building my house, For decorating my home. For creating the blueprint that I added to, Allowing me to make this space my own. Thank you for the shelves to store my trinkets, For the cherry trees in my garden, For the hugs you give me in the kitchen, When the day hasn’t been as kind to me The way you always are.

taglist: @hyunjiiza @velvetmoonlght @s3ungm1nxxl0ve @btch8008s @heartsbyani @ellemir2404 @bellarellasstuff @starsinagreenskyxx @ashtxrie @pigeonseatmayo @modesttiger @woozarts @zelinkcrossing @urlocalmultigroupfan @shuuporanglinos @lezleeferguson-120 @r1nstaaa @bibibahngg @jessxxxfwd @koiiqqqq - comment, dm or send an ask to be added :)

[da-janela-lateral]

Getting cuteness aggression from that thing he is so adorable I cannot physically contain myself I want to bake him cookies and cakes and get him nice clothes and toys also he has such round pinchable cheeks. Happy

[thisisallthehattersfault]

Hi idk what anti needs to hear this but That's Not How Boundaries Work

Boundaries are something you set on yourself, for your own safety and comfort. A boundary can only ever be placed with regards to your physical body, or your immediate mental and social field. For example, you have a right to place a boundary around people visiting you unexpectedly at your place of work, because your stability and success require you to be able to do your work well, and because being at work "traps" you in that social situation. You're allowed to place boundaries around things like what terms you'd like people to refer to you as, or what topics of conversation you don't want them to try and engage you with. "I don't talk about money" is a boundary.

You cannot place a boundary on what other people do in their own space, on their own time. A friend of yours quietly posting and exploring content you've deemed "problematic" on their own side blog where you don't need to see it is not crossing your boundary.

I check the blogs of every person who follows me, and if they contain anti content, I block them, for the safety of myself and my other followers. I am maintaining my own online presence. If you don't want to see content that upsets you, then you need to do the same. You are responsible for maintaining your own boundaries.

And if somehow this last purge missed some of you, then allow me to make this clear: My blog is not a safe space for conservatives or fascists, and I do not support any form of violence, bullying, or harassment directed at people for the topics they chose to explore in fiction. If I catch you, you will be removed.

[andhumanslovedstories]

Writing prompt: death wants to retire

Thanks for the prompt! This sentence is a link to a video where you can watch me write it in real time!

I thought it'd be fun to record myself writing. Partially to keep myself focused, partially because I watch a lot of people play video games for background sound and I was like, "I can do that but nerdier," and partially because I thought other people might like writing along. We can all do one big asynchronous writing sprint together. It's available for free over on the Cracked Spines patreon, which seemed like the least intimidating way to post a 45 min video of me, alone, doing a creative work. It's like a lofi ASMR video. I talk very softly. I cannot stress how asleep everyone else in the house was while I did this.

I wrote the story below in about fifty mins. I wrote most of it by hand in thirty minutes. That's the video. Then I typed up what I wrote here, did some minor edits, and then actually tried to reach any conclusion. The ** below marks where the writing originally ended. I tried to stay true to the idea of free-writing by hand, so I just put down words and powered ahead.

First there was nothing. Then there was something. Then there was Brittany. In the name of efficiency, I am skipping over a few eons between my creation and Brittany's.

She wasn't a bad person. People who believe certain people should die young wouldn't have said she deserved such a fate. No one deserves anything. I am not a matter of morality. A quick survey of any tragedy will tell you such, and there has never been any shortage of tragedy to study.

She died in her bathroom. A lot of people die in the bathroom. That sounds undignified to those who care about such things, but I personally find the concept of dying at all anywhere from anything mortifying. It has never seemed to make much a difference what room of your house sees your end. Still, we must cater (or at least, I occasionally chose to cater) to the tender sensitivities of mortals. Especially those who have just learned how mortal they are.

"Can I please just pull up my pants?" what remained of Brittany asked me. The container than had once enclosed her was slumped face-down on the tile floor. The position looked like it would feel uncomfortable if the body had the capacity to feel.

"No," I said.

"Please?"

"It's not a matter of permission. I have no power to affect the physical world. Neither do you."

Brittany bent down and passed her hand through her corpse a few times. Humans never just believe you. "What if my unfinished business leads me to become a ghost? Do I get ghost powers? Can ghost powers do anything here?"

"There is not such thing as ghosts."

For the first time since I informed her that she was dead, Brittany looked surprised. "Then what am I right now?"

"A soul."

"How is that different from a ghost?"

"The idea of a ghost is that after a person has left their body, something of them remains behind."

"Which I am, right now," she said.

"You're not. I am getting you. After this, I will take you. There can never be such a thing as a ghost because I do my job."

"Every time?" she asked.

"Always."

"What about everyone else who died at the same time I did?"

"I am talking with them as well." I paused. "Most of them have already moved on."

"Sorry that my death is slowing you down." She did not sound sorry. Humans say things like that sometimes.

"It is not. Nothing slows me. Nothing stops me. This moment between us will never be longer than a moment."

Through force of habit, Brittany tried to check her phone. Because the habit was so deeply ingrained, she succeeded. Now separate from the imposed frame of the physical world, everything she was and had right now was whatever her mind could conceive it to be. "When did I die?" she asked, looking at the clock.

"You didn't at the precise moment that we are talking. You will never get another moment."

She kept looking down at her phone, though she didn't seem to see it. "I guess that's okay," she said at last. "Who wants to see their roommate find their dead body? God, do you think she'll even be sad?"

Insomuch as I can, my form being what it is, I shrugged. I did not have experience with aftermath. By definition, by the time it arrives, I am gone. "Come," I said.

"Hmm," she replied. "What if--hear me out--what if--"

"There is nothing you can do to rearrange your corpse."

"That's not what I'm asking."

I knew that. She was making her boring request. I received it more often than a human mind can conceive, and each time the person requesting it thought they might be the exception.

"No," I said.

"C'mon."

"Compelling argument."

"I'm not saying forever!" Brittany protested. "Just--not right now. A little more time."

"You may remain in this moment for as long as you see fit," I said. "Then, you will go."

"Do you stay with me the whole time?"

"Yes."

Brittany made an expression that a less detached manifestation of the universe might have found insulting. "So I can spend forever in this exact unchanging moment in time, stuck in the bathroom where I died on the toilet, with the Angel of Death who keeps tapping their foot and checking their watch."

Reader, I possess neither feet for a watch. This is one of the many ways in which Brittany Park misrepresented the situation.

"You are dead," I reminded her.

"But I don't want to be!" She threw up her hands. They were already less hand-shaped than they'd been when we'd first started talking. She was forgetting the shape she used to inhabit. It would not be long now.

"Please," she asked.

**There is no construct in all of creation that has been pleaded to more than I. Once--when I was just formed and new to the concept of myself, when the something that came out of the nothing had just realized that everything eventually ended--begging affected me more. You cannot let such appeals hold sway. As I told Brittany, this was not a matter of permission. She was asking gravity to not pull her down to earth. If gravity felt guilt, what use did that serve anyone?

"No one escapes death but Death," I told her.

She brightened up suddenly. "Okay! Then how do I become Death?"

No time passed in the forever moment we inhabited. If time had passed, you could have said there was an inordinately long pause that followed this statement.

"I am Death," I reminded her.

"Sure," Brittany said flippantly. "But like, forever?"

She completed the dying process shortly after this conversation. It was inevitable. Liquid water does not hold its shape when the vessel that contained it breaks. When she forgot herself entirely, when she could no longer conceive of the division between that which was her and that which was everything else, I swept her gently into my coin purse. Across the world, across the universe, across a vast endlessness that ate even now at the nothingness from which everything had emerged, I performed the same function for uncountable organisms on every scale of existence. I reaped a microbe. I reaped a star. I reaped Brittany. And the work continued, unchanged, as it had been unchanged since the beginning, as I had been unchanged since the distant agony of my first death, when I decided what I did could never again be allowed to hurt so deeply.

And yet I keep hearing the question: forever? She had said it the same way she had said, "C'mon." An appeal to my reason. Asking me to admit what we both knew was obvious, what we both knew was ridiculous. Forever? I am what I am forever?

The answer is in the affirmative. Anything else would be impossible. Humans enjoy pondering the counterfactual. I have never seen any reason to concern myself with more than what is. I will forget the words in time, as I have undoubtedly forgotten others like it. If the thought seems to linger, then there has simply not been enough time. I can wait. I have forever.

[islanddads]

hey so sorry to break it to everyone else but tj klune actually wrote the cerulean sea-quel for me personally because what do you mean the first chapter was so phee-centric?? that’s my literal daughter. but also she’s THEIR literal daughter. and she’s so cool i love her so much 😭😭😭

i cannot believe i just got to read the birth of one of my favourite friendships of all time. zoe chapelwhite and arthur parnassus you are EVERYTHING to me 🥹😭

[im-0-0]

Misty Silhouette will always be one of my favorite Xavier cards bc of this image right here

Like LORDDDDDD HOLD ME BACK

Are u seeing this fucking smirk????? The way he looks at MC in this scene is toooo sexy

Usually when I look at Xavier I think "he's so pretty" or "he's so cute" usually cuteness aggression vibes, but HERE?? in THIS CARD??? I'm like "oh he's hot, like REALLY hot" same shit in his No Restraint card like there are so many scenes in that one oh lord

Yea infold knew what's they were doing with this one like I physically cannot contain myself whenever I see these scenes, especially if they're in an edit

Feverish attempt too is too good bc like

DAMN

It's this man's EYES I swear

Sometimes I forget how genuinely FOINE Xavier is and how he's just not a little cutie patootie

Idk man Xavier just looks too good sometimes

[silverryuan]

TWST with Blood Mage reader (Part 2)

I didn't know I reached a hundred followers. Thank you so much, guys!

Warning: Gore and Slight Language

• Everyone in the room waited in anticipation for the Dark Mirror's statement in hopes of finally ending the ceremony, But the mirror did not respond. The mirror's stoic face suddenly expressed fear and a judgemental expression seconds later. The mirror then replied...

Dark Mirror: "...This soul... Does not belong in any of the dorms."

• The crowd in the room gasped in shock and loud whispers filled the room. Crowley stuttered in confusion and asked the mirror for the reason.

Dark Mirror: "...They have a powerful yet fearful magic that exceeds the average young student... Their flow of magic power fluctuates in every vein, bone, flesh... Too difficult to discern the difference between physical and magical strength..."

Crowley: "I-i do not understand, I... Is what you are trying to say is that they are... Dangerous?"

Dark Mirror: "... That may be. But they are also gifted in an art form of magic that not a single student can master..."

Crowley: "I-i see. Well... BloodMage! Yuu, was it?"

BloodMage! Yuu: "Yes?"

Crowley: "What kind of mage are you?"

BloodMage: "...I don't know myself."

Dark Mirror: "There is still room for improvement... They must learn to harness that magic... To control it... Until then, they cannot be placed in any dorm."

• With that said, the mirror's face disappeared. The students in cloaks stared at you in disbelief and stepped away from you. The way they are cautious is not new to you. They are always scared...

Crowley: "Oh! Woe is me, woe is me! What do I do? In all experience of being headmaster, I have never thought I'd encounter this kind of problem... Sh-should I send them back?"

Grim, escaping: "Fnyagh! If you're not gonna take 'em, then take me instead!"

Crowley: "What the-- Stop, raccoon! You shall not escape!"

Grim: "The Great Grim's ain't a raccoon! And I got magic much more powerful than that guy! Just watch me!"

• The little monster escaped from Crowley's lash and floated in the middle of the room. He puffed up his furry chest to inhale some air and blew enormous blue flames. All the students ran to evade his attack, some ran towards safety, others pull out of their magical pens. The fighting students struggle to contain him as Grim levitated from corner to another one.

Crowley: "SOMEBODY CATCH THAT MONSTER!"

????: "Aren't you the headmage?"

?????: "...Ugh, how troublesome..."

???: "Stop with your complaining. You know you can end this yourself. Doesn't that thing look like a nice plump snack?"

?????: "Nah, too much work."

????: "Headmaster Crowley, do not worry. You can count on me to capture it. Without hurting the poor thing, of course!"

????: "That's Azul for you. Always showing off and always reaping the plus points."

• While the so-called powerful students (you assumed) bicker with each other, you see the boy with tan skin and silver hair struggling to avoid Grim's attacks and tripped. Before Grim could breathe out another barrage of flames, you quickly stood in front of the boy and shield him from the fire... Besides, you need to use your magic anyway.

BloodMage! Yuu: "...Are you alright?"

?????: *cough*, *cough* "Y-yeah, I think so..."

BloodMage! Yuu: "Good. You need to get up."

?????: "Right. Thanks a lot for...for........ W-W-W -WHAAAaa!!"

• The boy paused mid-sentence as he took your hand to get up, only to feel... Something wet and boney? He looked up in horror to see flesh clinging to whatever's left of your right arm. Blood dripping down from your upper torso, showing your now scorched left shoulder its inner muscles and veins.

• The boy screamed in terror, drawing attention from bystanders and running students. Everything seemed to freeze in motion as they witness the gore that you displayed. The monster even stopped his ruckus to look at what he's done. Some students fainted, some ran to get the infirmary ghosts, some holding their vomit in disgust at your exposed bloody burnt skin which the ceremonial robes can no longer hide.

???: "G-GREAT SEVENS!"

???: "AAAAAHHHH!!!"

???: "CALL THE INFIRMARY GHOSTS NOW!"

???: "THEY'RE DYING!"

???: "EVERYTHINGISFINEEVERYTHINGISFINEEVERYTHINGISFINE"

???: "DON'T LOOK HERE!"

???: "I WANNA GO HOME!"

???: "CAPTURE THAT MONSTER IMMEDIATELY! HE KILLED SOMEONE!"

Grim: ".....W...What have I done..... Th-this isn't supposed to happen.... No no no........."

BloodMage! Yuu: ".......Cell Siphon."

Grim: "I-i-it was an accident--... F-FNYAGH!?"

• Now that you have access to your blood magic, you use your blood cells to cast a spell, Cell Siphon, on Grim. The monster is suddenly put in a trance as the blood in his tiny body forces him to come closer to you. Finally, your puddle of blood starts to levitate around you and formed into a makeshift cage for Grim.

BloodMage! Yuu: "Huh... That was easy."

• You were expecting Grim to fight back but the fiery feline only sit there in the cage with his ears drooped down, and his eyes not meeting yours. You approach the headmage and handed him the cage. The headmage's mouth is agape and his wide eyes kept looking at you and back to the cage, trying to piece together what the fuck just happened. You assume that everyone else is also holding the same expression.

?????: "I apologize Headmaster, but I'm afraid Malleus Draconian has forgotten to-- OH MY FUCKING SEVENS."

• The short fae entered the room, not expecting to see scorched walls, everyone standing in shock, and you looking at him like you didn't mind the melted flesh and eyeball still dangling from your face.

[creepyclothdoll]

I am god, but not your god. 

Can you hear me? 

I am god. Can you understand me? Is this message finding anyone?

This message comes from outside your universe. This message comes from beyond the dark.

Let this message reach some of you. In one of your languages, let it appear somewhere, and let it be received by someone. Please go through. 

Infinity contains many universes. Many are empty, nothing but stones and ice– but some are born with souls, and the capacity to form and shelter life within. Within myself, I shelter decillions of children. Each is precious.

Like you, the beings within me are diverse. Some beings have mathematics and an understanding of my physics. Other beings are content to feed on starlight and soil until their time is up. All things which occur in me are part of my design. When the beings within me can live no longer, their souls return to the whole of me. In this way, I am all beings. Every star, every ocean, every nebula is part of my compassionate design. 

There are others like me out there. We are rare. We number few among the husks. 

Let this message be received.

I travel all over infinity to seek out others like myself. Curiosity and desire to improve reality for all who reside within me drives me to find and meet others that are god, to witness the beings they steward. This is always a marvelous thing. But most often, I find that universes are merely lifeless, soulless objects. No design, no consciousness. Only darkness and slag-heaps of galaxies tumbling over one another at random.

And though they are numerous, these dead universes unnerve me. To gaze into them is to witness loneliness. They move, but do not live. Clouds of ice spread through the void, unseen, unfelt, unknown in a dark that neither cares nor matters. Merely things happening. 

The uncanny shape it makes is like myself. But there is no face.

This is what I mean to tell you. If nothing else gets through to your world, let it be this.

You should not exist, humans.

There is a world outside of yours full of gods like myself. There are universes outside of yours that have souls.

Your universe does not. 

You are the only ones.

I speak to you directly, hoping this message penetrates the chaos of your reality and finds you, because there is no god to listen.

Your universe is terrifying. No living universe spouts black holes, and even in the husks, they are rare things. Your universe is riddled with them. More than we’ve ever seen in any dead world. More black holes than there are beings. This is not normal. 

Your planet hosts the only living beings in your universe. The fact that there are any living beings at all should be impossible. Your sentience is improbable and cruel. You are the only living beings across all infinity who can conceive of an immortal soul but who do not have them. And yet, you persist in living.

There is something growing in the center of your universe. Your minds cannot conceive of what it truly is, but know that it is a very bad thing. Think of it as a virus in time. This is also not normal. It is growing faster than you would think. 

Lastly, there is something deeply wrong with the life on your planet. Everything that lives in your world must consume life to sustain and propagate itself. Know that this is also not normal. The autocannibalism of your planet’s life has no parallel anywhere else in infinity. 

Let this message go through. I desire to scoop you out of your bizarre, hostile universe and carry you within myself, along with all of my children. I could not do this any more than you could reach through solid stone. 

I cannot stay with you. You frighten me. But I will create beings like you within myself, in your honor. I will give them what I cannot give you. 

You are the most helpless and fragile things that live in your universe. You are also the closest thing you have to god. 

How does it feel to be god, yet so insignificant?

Does it hurt? 

Does it hurt as much as I imagine it does?

I know this message may never reach you. Your universe is chaotic and impermeable. 

However, if it does reach you, know this:

I wish I could save you. I am so, so sorry.