#(Don't worry Di)

[art-is-kayos]

I see why people do MS paint rage doodles this is really great

[lab-gr0wn-lambs]

hot garbage 👇

[so-i-did-this-thing]

My cartoonishly transphobic aunt is dying and my last memory of her is of her in the back of my grandfather's hospice room - where he had just died, his body still in the bed - making up vicious rumors about myself to anyone who'd listen, while I was consoling her distraught husband and son.

This is the legacy of transphobes.

I suppose the most damning feeling I have towards this woman is this memory that has eclipsed all others. Because otherwise, I do not think of her at all, other than when my mother brings me news like this.

Nor do I think of my aunt's husband and son, anymore, as they were always too cowardly to examine their own harmful actions (much less stop them) when I popped up as the queer black sheep of the family. And yet they still needed me for emotional support.

Going no-contact with transphobic family - of which I am a firm proponent - can be hard at first, but I could only hold my head high for so long.

And now, here once again looking at my extremely small extended family dwindle even further, I feel nothing. A pity it ended up that way.

[ineed-to-sleep]

So I've had this wip sitting in my folders for months now and decided to ressurect it to satiate the urge to draw these two again

[temeyes]

had a rough day. could I possibly get a hug from someone?

-🐌

'course, bub!! doodlesoap's here to give the best huggies!!

[sysig]

Blood sugar levels (Patreon)

[cotl-flower-crown]

What are your thoughts on the idea of The Lamb being taller than Narinder? I don’t mean like making The Lamb taller,

I mean making Narinder shorter.

Not canon (yet), but I think it would be cute <3

And there's also these two (cw: swearing)

[thestarfishface]

If I was easy to kill you would've done it already

[kiyomitakada]

At last the warehouse is silent except for Light Yagami's wheezing breaths.

Teru stands. His nice shoes are stained with viscera. He has just killed seven people.

He has never particularly cared about victory.

"Mikami," Light gasps out. "Mikami. You did it."

There is the blood of an eighteen-year-old boy splashed on Teru's dress shoes. He's never fired a gun before. He's handled plenty as a prosecutor, of course, typically while cursing the murderers whose fingerprints littered the handles.

"You're not God," Teru says.

"What are—you talking about?" Light manages a smile. It twitches oddly on his face, like a dying butterfly. "We won."

Teru just looks at him. Looks and looks and looks.

He used to wonder what God looked like. It was an idle thought, one only entertained in the depths of night when the sleep medication hadn't quite kicked in yet. He told himself it didn't matter; God was an entity that surpassed shallow things like appearance, and Teru's job was to follow him no matter what. Teru was not like the rest of Demegawa's little cult, who followed God only for the sake of personal safety and money. Teru was righteous. But he had wondered, regardless.

He had never settled on an answer. But Light Yagami, bleeding from the shoulder, brown eyes and manic grin—

Pathetic, Teru thinks. You're pathetic.

"Listen, Mikami," and Light tries to sit up, but hisses through his teeth and props himself awkwardly with one elbow instead. "You've done well. I'll reward you. Anything you want."

"Your watch," Teru says.

"My—what?"

"Your watch."

The boy, before he had been gunned down by Teru's own hand, had thrown a match. Teru has never been the type for schemes, but he knows for certain that whether real or fake, all of the notebooks are now ash.

"No," Light says, clamping his free hand around his wrist instantly. "You can't—it's from my father."

Teru could almost laugh. How nice having a father must have been. How inconsequential.

"I don't care," he says.

It's a fitting choice for a sacred compartment. Something paternal, something time-keeping, something small. It must fit right over Light's pulse point.

"It's not enough," Light tries. "It's—it's a tiny scrap of paper. It could fit ten names at most."

Teru feels his face fall. He can write very, very small, but the idea of the paper running out is terrifying.

Still. It's better than nothing. Perhaps he'll never even write in it. Perhaps he'll keep it on a necklace or frame it on his desk. Teru can do good work without the Death Note, but he cannot go on without God.

"I don't care," he repeats, and strides towards him.

Light flinches. He tries to get up again; his arm fails him, and he starts dragging himself backwards instead. Like a worm, Teru thinks. That's all he is. A worm and a murderer.

"Don't get closer, Mikami," he says, voice cracking with the beginnings of nervous laughter. "I still have—"

Teru punches him in the nose.

Light collapses. Teru very easily slips the watch off his wrist.

The shinigami is cackling.

"You don't know how to unlock it!" Light reaches for him. Teru yanks the watch away from his grasp. The idea of being touched right now is more repulsive than the blood. "I never told anyone!"

"I saw you do it," Teru points out. Just before he'd broken out of his restraints he'd seen Light twisting at the crown of the watch to kill Nate River. Not that it matters much to Teru. If he really wanted the Death Note, all he'd have to do is smash it.

"Ryuk!" Light shrieks. "Stop him!"

Oh, there it is. The appeal to a higher power. But Teru's God loves him, and Light Yagami's false idol does not.

It's almost sympathetic. Teru is not a heartless man. He knows how it feels to be screaming for help that never comes.

"I'm not going to kill you," Teru says, folding the watch carefully and slipping it into his breast pocket. Light stares at him, eyes wild. "You're just misguided."

"How dare you—"

If Teru was more inclined to humor, he might have said One day you'll see the light. As it is, he closes his eyes. A sense of beautiful, serene inner peace descends on him. It was foolish of him to put so much faith in a human voice over the phone, to be honest. Teru knows better now.

This time, he'll get it right. This time he will please the real God.

In the meantime, he might as well spread His word.

Teru rolls his sleeve down. He grabs Light's bare wrist through the fabric and, before Light can pull back: kisses his palm.

A day ago, this would have been reverence. Now it reveals itself as pity.

Light sucks in a breath, sharp, pained. Teru lets go.

"Good luck," he says, and means it.

"Mikami! Where are you g—Mikami!"

Teru does not look back. The shinigami's cackles fade into the distance.

(Teru Mikami dies of unclear multiple system failure ten days later.)

[ @deathnotetober day 18: worship ]

[qilingxiong]

Di Feisheng surfaces back to his own body still gasping, spent and sprawled across the twisted sheets, and feels, rather than sees, Fang Duobing's self-satisfied smirk into his thigh.

"Did that feel good?" Fang Duobing sounds far too earnest, the brat, as though he didn't learn to put his mouth to another's body only a few months ago and make Di Feisheng's life all the more difficult for it. He stares up at the rough-hewn ceiling boards in the dark, and sighs. The boy's a detective; he can draw conclusions himself. Evidence is still on his tongue.

Di Feisheng hears a laugh huffed against his skin, and then the subtle press of lips to his hip, gentle and blink-quick. Fang Duobing pushes himself upright, crawling over Di Feisheng before making to lay down beside him, shoving their shed robes from earlier off the bed. There's still sweat on them both, slick at every warm point of contact, but it'll cool soon enough. The half-moon of winter shining its light through Lianhualou's window promises that.

Fang Duobing's head lands at his chest with a deep exhale, one arm reaching across his torso, and Di Feisheng freezes.

There's no hiding the flinch of tension when they're pressed skin to bare skin; Fang Duobing notices immediately, raising his head to look at him, eyes wide and darker than the night around them. "Lao-Di? Is something wrong?"

And this, this is where Di Feisheng has had to figure out how and when to use words, with someone other than the likes of Li Xiangyi. Fang Duobing cannot yet read all of him like instinct, rendering language secondary. Bridging the spaces between them requires effort.

Yet it's effort Di Feisheng is willing to make. Wants, to make. "No," he says, and relaxes when Fang Duobing visibly does. "Just—" and for all his voice halts, he manages to speak, "stay here like this." Please.

"Okay." Fang Duobing smiles, so easily, so unfairly easily, and doesn't need to be pled twice. When he settles himself back into Di Feisheng's side, it's like he's belonged there for years, not like they haven't done this before.

Sharing a bed is one thing. Falling into each other's heat out of sleeplessness, then for company, is another, and no longer anything new. This, though, while they're still bare and for no apparent purpose other than the sake of it, is... unexpected.

What is Di Feisheng supposed to do? He finds himself reaching for Fang Duobing all at once, cautiously, watches his own arm slowly curl around him in return. Fang Duobing squirms minutely in his grasp, then stills once more, shifting himself even further onto Di Feisheng.

There is no further response, only silence, interrupted by breath rising and falling in waves. Compared to mere moments ago, however, the empty pause now seems less intimidating.

Fang Duobing's hair spills across them both, thrown there by his motions before. Di Feisheng moves to fidget with the ends of it, tugging lightly as it sifts through his fingers. It gets him some kind of content sigh, half-muffled against Di Feisheng's pectoral. Softer, a softer noise than when he'd yanked at it earlier, Fang Duobing between his legs.

He finds that he likes it.

Likes this.

Di Feisheng keeps himself there, unmoving. Fang Duobing's warmth is its own blanket; he wards off the cold of the house, the two of them entwined. Until Di Feisheng thinks, for perhaps just a minute, he's comfortable enough for his eyes to close.

When he opens them, Fang Duobing's breathing has already evened out. He's asleep. The sight of him is enough to convince Di Feisheng to let his own eyes drift shut once more.

There's a first time for everything, he supposes.

[bleper]

A shorter one today, Time my boy prepare for trouble

tw:blood (brain really likes blood rn for some reason, Chief I blame you /positive), cussing (it's me cussing at the very end don't worry)

He grabbed at his chest, heaving air into his lungs as best he could while they flooded with blood. The large gash across Time’s front weeping crimson onto the ground startlingly quickly and painting the stones under him. His world was spinning faster than he could consider it, he wasn't aware of falling onto the sticky blood soaked stone beneath him as everything faded to black.

The soft caress of sheets against his skin and the less than gentle squeeze of bandages across his chest were the first things his mind registered when he awoke, the next being the badly hidden sniffling of a certain sailor by his side. Twisting his head to look at him was out of the question with the thick blankets tucked around him so he settled for breathing out small words of assurance to grab his attention, earning himself a swift tackle from the small hero and an immediate scolding for almost dying.

How lucky he was to have a family willing to go out of their way to save his sorry ass.

[theplantbish]

You're so welcome baby 🥰

Video description under the cut

[Video description: a short clip of a longer interview of a Finnish artist Käärijä. Käärijä is sitting on the left side of a couch, wearing a white t-shirt, black Adidas pants and yellow tinted glasses. The interviewer is sitting to his right, next to him on the couch. In the clip Käärijä says with his broken English: "Everybody fans there thank you a lot everything what you came for me". He gestures towards the camera as he speaks and presses his palms together as a sign of gratitude.

End of description]

[makorragal-312]

So, just so I'm clear...we're all in agreement that Gerrard and that bitchass councilwoman are in cahoots together, right?

[carmisse]

Of Dead Husband

Maedhros, seeing his grieving brother : Are you all right, Carnistir?

Caranthir, with an anguished and melancholic countenance : Oh, I only assimilate the death of my dear husband Angaráto.

Angrod who survived Dagor Bragollach but with considerable wounds : Stop saying I'm dead!

Caranthir, holds his hand to his face : Sometimes I can still hear his voice.

[natelia-aldelliz]

Guys imagine, Roach died, before the creation of 141, but Soap is able to see his ghost. He was originally following Ghost around, really annoyed that he was using his death as an excuse to not get close to anyone, but when he found out Soap could see him and talk to him he started following him around instead.

And they get really close, like two peas in a pod, except they have to be discreet about it because no one else can see or hear Roach, and they'd think Soap was crazy if they saw him talking to no one.

They use that for shenanigans too: Roach will go follow someone else and report back to Soap, Gaz is genuinely starting to believe Soap has superpowers or something. It's really useful on missions as well, and Soap managed to successfully rescue team members thanks to Roach being able to move through walls and everything.

(Roach is not the only ghost Soap is able to see btw, just the only one he's talking to.)

And then Roach is witnessing his past lover trying really hard to not fall in love with Soap, and Soap trying really hard to not do anything about the love he already feels, and he has to try and convince Soap that he is dead. During that conversation he finds out that something else that keeps Soap from doing something is that he feels very confused about everything because he also has feeling for Roach.

So now Roach has to try and convince him that even if he was still alive he wouldn't have a problem with that. He's known for a while that he was polyamorous, but he hadn't really dared talking to Ghost about that because he thinks he's jealous and possessive.

And Soap is like "oh yeah, you want me to go say to Ghost 'don't worry about your dead lover that I'm not supposed to know, he's actually polyamorous and also in love with me, I know because his ghost told me!' ??? I'm sure he's gonna take that well!"

But Roach is nothing if not resourceful and he manages to put Soap in situations where he's forced to interact with Ghost, and eventually they kiss and their relationship is beginning to be something. They're not really sure what.

And Roach is sad, because he has to watch the two men he loves being in love without him, yes, but at least they're both happy, and it makes him feel a bit better. And then during a mission Ghost almost dies.

Because he was alone and Soap and Gaz were together, Roach was following Ghost this time, ready to fly to Soap in an instant if there was any problems. But there was and he didn't have time, so he instinctively grabbed the gun being pointed towards Ghost's head and moved it as the person was shooting, saving Ghost's life, giving him enough time to shoot the enemy himself.

But even as the threat is eliminated, Ghost is still looking up from where he's on the ground, staring right through him, looking shocked. No, not right through him, he realises when he moves to the side and Ghost's eyes follow him. He also realises that he grabbed the gun. He's never grabbed anything before, in all his years of being a ghost.

Then suddenly Ghost's eyes move wildly around, and he figures he disappeared from his view. He can still go through the walls, but he's kept the ability to grab stuff when he wants. It gives him a ton of new possibilities, to fuck with people and, of course, to touch Soap.

"I wish you were actually alive," Soap whispers to him, holding his hands against his face as he's falling asleep.

"What the fuck," comes Ghost's voice the next morning, waking both of them up - wait, since when could Roach sleep?

Soap doesn't understand immediately, because he's always been able to see Roach. But Ghost is standing in the door, looking straight at dead past lover.

Turns out Soap is a necromancer and he had no idea, though the whole 'I can see dead people' should probably have told him sooner that he wasn't normal... The more he wishes Roach is alive, the more he actually is. And they all end up happy and together. And Gaz is very happy to have won the bet that Soap indeed has superpowers.

The day Roach says, in a wondering voice, "I... I think I'm hungry" is the day they understand that something is really happening and he's actually coming back to life.

(Also, Soap has no control at all on his abilities, he has no idea what does what and why, he knows nothing. No one knows.)

[h0neytune-cherub]

Seara, Neko to Apron no Hon