#The song at the end is so good too

[wolflover33100aj]

Indigo Park made me smile, I was watching SuperHorrorBro play it and I was smiling through the whole video!

I love this game so much!

[somegrumpynerd]

How did he know…

[starry-bi-sky]

Stuck in the middle of a forest made of

Flesh and bones and they're all scared of

A lost little boy who has lost his heart

Fear's not enough, they have to

Tear him apart —-------

There are two things Daniel Fenton knows that his family knows as well: 

He’s adopted.

He can’t remember anything else before that.  

‘Adoption’ is a loose term, implying that they went through the official legal processes and troubles of adopting a child into their home willingly, and with the full intention of doing so going into it. That is not what happened. What happened is that Jasmine Fenton found a half-dead child, in strange clothing, in the middle of the woods at her Aunt Alicia’s cabin, and then she went and got her parents. 

What happened is that a twelve year old Danny woke up in the same cabin, wearing clothes much too big on him that didn’t belong to him, and with very little memory of before that moment. He wakes up like a spring being set loose, sitting up so fast he scares the daylights out of Jasmine Fenton sitting next to him. He wakes up, reaching for his sleeve for something that isn’t there, and when it isn’t his mind stutters, like he’s tripped at the top of a steep hill. 

When they ask him for his name, he tells them, clearing muddled thoughts from his mind; Danny. He’s twelve.

(He thinks that’s his name, at least. It sounds right; it feels right. If he thinks really hard about it, he thinks he can remember someone calling him that, utter adoration in their voice. So it must be his name.) 

The Jasmine girl convinces her parents to take him home with them, and they give him the spare guest room upstairs. He has nothing to fill it with.

It’s… a strange experience, to go to a ‘new’ home when he doesn’t even remember his old one. 

The official adoption process… happens. He can’t say it’s easy, or difficult. He’s oblivious for the most of it, Jasmine intends on helping him settle in and Danny can’t say he enjoys the smothering. He learns that he is stubbornly self-independent, that’s one new thing he knows about himself. 

His adoption papers say ‘Daniel J. Fenton’. Danny remembers staring at the name ‘Daniel’ for a long, long moment, something curdling sour in his sternum. His name is Danny, that he knows. But it’s not Daniel. But he doesn’t know any other way of saying it, so he keeps his complaints to himself.

(Jack Fenton boisterously claps his hand on Danny’s shoulder and jerks him around, grinning wide as he welcomes him into the Fenton Family. Danny’s mind blanches at the touch on his shoulder, an instinct snapping like the maw of a snake, telling him to cut off the man’s fingers for daring to touch him.) 

(He keeps the thought to himself, tension rising up his shoulders the longer Jack Fenton’s heavy hand stays on him.) 

They found Danny in the summer. It’s a perfect coincidence, Maddie Fenton says before she goes back into her lab with Jack Fenton. She says it’s enough time to allow Danny to adjust; that they’ll enroll him into the school year in the fall. Then she stuffs a canister of ectoplasm onto the top shelf, and disappears like the ghosts she studies back down the stairs.  

(There’s something eerily familiar about the ectoplasm sitting in the fridge, something unsettlingly so. Danny knows what that stuff is, but he doesn’t know where. When the house is empty, he takes a can from the fridge and inspects it.)

Jazz wants him to leave the house. Danny doesn’t want to step foot outside of the FentonWorks building until he has something that quells the feeling of vulnerability he gets whenever he does. He tried to once, and he felt exposed. Unsafe. 

He turned back around and went inside.

—-------

Where do we go

When the river's running slow

Where do we run

When the cats kill one by one

—------

One day, when the house is empty — or, as empty as it can be; the Fenton parents down in the lab, and jazz out with friends. Danny is making a sandwich, and he caves into the urge to flip the knife in his hands between his fingers. A childish impulse, but one he falls for nonetheless. It comes to him easily, like second nature, in fact. The slip of the blade between his fingers is seamless, flowing with an ease like water running down the wall.  

He’s almost startled by it; his body holds memories that his mind does not. Muscles that know which way to move and twist, limbs that know how to hold and how to throw. He continues twirling it, fascinated, as if he were a scientist discovering a new species of animal. 

It’s not for a handful of minutes when a new thought hits him; an impulsive thought that pops in the back of his mind like a firecracker; Danny moves without thinking. 

He turns, and throws the knife. The pull of his shoulder, the flick of his elbow, is familiar like a hug. He knows when to let go, and the blade flies through the air in impressive speed, embedding itself into the wall with a hearty, loud thunk. Sinking into the drywall like butter. 

Danny stares at it in shock, he feels relieved — about what? — before he feels the guilt. He scrambles across the kitchen to pull it out, heart racing in his chest at being caught, and prays no one notices the hole it left behind. 

(He runs up the stairs before anyone can find him, food forgotten, and hides the knife beneath his mattress like a guilty murder weapon.)

After that, he leaves the house more. It’s more out of fear of being caught than the desire to leave. But Danny is quickly learning that among all things, he is someone who was dangerous, before he lost his memory. Even with his mind in fractures, he is still dangerous. 

He’s not sure how to feel about that — he thinks he should be scared. He feels a little proud, instead.

—------

Hazel beneath our claws

While we wait for cerulean to cry

Unsettled ticks run through time

Enough for the hunt to go awry

—-----

There’s another thing he learns about himself. That he knows about since he woke up. He knows that he left someone behind. He doesn’t know who, but he knows they must have been close; he’s always looking down and finding himself surprised when the only shadow he sees is his own. 

He thinks that he must have sung to them a lot; he finds himself humming familiar melodies when he’s lost in thought. Lullabies lingering at the tip of his tongue, an instinct to turn and sing them to someone beside him. He can’t remember the lyrics, but his mouth does, it tries to get him to say them when he’s not thinking. He can’t. 

Danny’s found himself humming under his breath more times than he can count, trying to recall whatever it is his mind is trying to claw forward. 

(“That’s a pretty song, Danny.” Jazz tells him at breakfast one day, Danny screws his mouth shut. He hadn’t realized he was humming. “What is it?”) 

(Something mean and possessive rears its head on instinct, uncoiling like a snake from its ball. His shoulders hunch defensively, he bites his cheek to prevent himself from baring his teeth. He doesn’t know what song it is, but it’s not for her. “I don’t know.”)  

He misses his person. Dearly. He knows, the longer he is without them, that they must have been close. Otherwise, he wouldn’t feel like he’s missing a chunk from himself. He wouldn’t be turning to someone who's not there; reaching for a hand that’s missing, birdsong on his tongue, a story to tell. 

A dream haunts him one night. Warm and familiar, he’s holding onto someone smaller than him, they’re tucked into his side like a puzzle piece. He’s humming one of his songs that is always playing in the back of his mind, an unfinished tale of a harpy and a hare. Danny can’t remember their face, not all of it. He remembers green eyes, hair dark like his own, skin brown like his. 

He loves them more than anything else in the world, a fact he knows down to his soul. He loves them so much it fills his heart with sunlight. Danny squeezes them tight, nuzzling into their hair; he makes them laugh. Then, he proudly boasts something. That when he takes something of their father’s, that his person — a sibling? That feels right — will be… the word fades from Danny’s mind before he can make sense of it. 

His person hugs him tight, his… brother? And their mother — a woman whose face he can’t remember either, but who he loves like a limb nonetheless — appears, smiling. Her hands reach for them both, voice calling them, ‘her sons’. There’s ticking in the distance, it sounds like the fastening of chains.

Danny wakes up cold, tears streaming down his face. The details of the dream already fading from his mind like the cold pull of a corpse.   

—-------

Harpy hare

Where have you buried all your children?

Tell me so I say

—-------

When school starts that Fall, Danny joins the sixth grade class, and quickly learns more things about himself. One of those things being that he’s smarter than the rest of his grade, whatever education he had before, it was better than the one he’s getting now. 

Everyone knows he’s adopted right off the bat. He tells them when the teacher forces himself to introduce himself, but it’s not like they needed him to tell them for them to know; he never existed in their little world before now, and the Fentons are pale as they come. Danny is not.

He befriends Sam Manson and Tucker Foley; they ask him about the scars fading up and down his arms, they ask him about the scar carved diagonal across his face.

Danny, as politely as he can, tells them he doesn’t remember. He thought kindness would come second nature to him, his dream burned into his mind where he hugged his brother so sweetly. Apparently, his sweetness is only second nature to people he considers his own. 

(It becomes even more apparent when Dash Baxter tries to bully him later that day, and Danny ruffles like an eagle threatened. His mind whispers, hissy and agitated, sinking like a shadow at his shoulder, several different ways Danny could kill him for talking to him like that, and fifteen more ways he could cripple him.)

(Danny ignores those thoughts, up until Dash Baxter tries to grab him. Then he breaks his nose on the wood of his desk. It’s easy how quickly the rest of his grade sinks him down to the status of social pariah.)

(At least Sam and Tucker still talk to him after that. When Danny goes to the principal’s office later, he wisely doesn’t mention the worse things he could’ve done than break Dash Baxter’s nose.)  

—--------------

It clicks and it clatters in corners and borders

And they will never

Hear me here listen to croons and a calling

I'll tell them all the

Story, the sun, and the swallow, her sorrow

Singing me the tale of the Harpy and the Hare

—-------

More dreams come, of course they do. Each one halfway to forgotten whenever he wakes up, ticking faint in his ears. He is many different ages. He is young, shorter than a table. He is older, holding onto his little brother. He is singing in almost every single one. He is singing to his brother. 

Danny can barely remember the lyrics, he’s begun leaving a journal by his bedside so that it’s the first thing he can write down when he wakes up. He’s a storyteller, he learns. He feels like a historian, trying to piece together a culture long dead and forgotten. 

His most vivid dream-like memory is not a happy one, and for once he’s almost relieved he barely recalls it. He is somewhere that isn’t home, but his mother and brother are there. He is dressed in black, blades keen in his hands. 

They are atop a moving train. They are fleeing something. His brother is struggling to keep up, he is small, and young. It’s beautifully sunny, they are somewhere green and lovely. 

It is a fast dream. 

His brother stumbles on something, and Danny, fast as a whip, snatches him by the back of his shirt and hoists him up to his feet before he can fall. “Watch your feet, habibi.” He murmurs low, a hand on his back. It’s hard to hear, there is wind in their ears.

His brother, face obscured in all but his eyes, which are green as emeralds, nods. 

The dream blurs, but Danny falls behind. His foot catches on air — impossible, it should’ve been, at least. He never trips. — and he lands against the roof with a thud and a grunt. His mother and brother stop, and turn for him. 

The train hits a turn before Danny can get up, and he shouldn’t have, something pulls on him, he swears, but he slips. He can’t find the purchase to pull himself up, cold fear hits him as his nails scrape against the metal. 

His mother and brother’s horrified faces are the last thing he sees before he disappears off the side of the train. 

(The ticking is at its loudest when he wakes up, pounding against his inner skull. He only manages to write down ‘train fall’ in his journal, before he’s flipping over to press his head into his pillow to get the pain to stop.) 

—---  

She can't keep them all safe

They will die and be afraid

Mother, tell me so I say

(Mother, tell me so I say)

—-------

When Danny is fourteen he is still humming songs he can’t remember, his mind still in a broken puzzle. But his room is now decorated with stars and plants in every corner. He has a guitar he keeps in the corner of his room, and he plays the lullabies in his head on the strings over and over again. 

The ectoplasm in the fridge still unsettles him, still reminds him of a past he can’t recall. The knife beneath his mattress has returned to the kitchen — he doesn’t need it. He found a box in the attic last year, it had his name on it, and inside he found familiar, strange clothes, and more weapons than he thought was possible to carry on one person. 

(Even without knowing that the Fentons prefer guns to blades, Danny knows, instinctively, that they were his weapons. He was — was? Is — a dangerous person. He takes the box down to his room to sort through. The weapons all fit into his callused hands almost perfectly — the grooves worn to fit his palm. They’re just a little small.) 

(He tentatively takes a small blade with him to school one day, and feels much more comfortable with it sheathed beneath his shirt. He’s kept it on him ever since, like he’s reunited a lost limb to himself.)   

Danny doesn’t have a name for his person, his little brother, nor does he have a name for his beloved mother. He’s haunted by dreams every few weeks, many of them repeating. He’s ingrained the words he can remember to memory, and the ones he doesn’t, he writes down in his journal. His little brother; Danny calls him a bird, he can’t figure out what kind. His little bird of some kind; when Danny takes something from their father — what, he can’t remember what — then his little brother will be a little bird. 

(He doesn’t have a name for his brother, yet, but he’s calling his birdie in his head. It’s better than nothing.)

—------

Seeker, do you ever come to wonder

If what you're looking for is within where you hold

Will you leave a trail for them to follow a path

You'll soon forget

Home

—---------

When he’s fourteen, Danny dies. It does nothing to fix his fractured memories, much to his consternation. It just confirms something he already knows; that he was someone dangerous, and that he still is. 

When the shock of death has worn off, Danny inspects his ghost in the metal reflection of the closest table. It’s blurry, hard to see, but shock green eyes pierce back at him, green like the portal. Lazarus, Danny’s mind whispers, and he blinks rapidly.

‘Lazarus,’ he mouths to himself. It’s familiar. Sam shows him with her phone what he looks like, joking that he looks like an assassin. Danny doesn’t think she’s that too far off. 

He doesn’t tell her that. He tucks the thought away with the rest of his secrets, and fiddles with the hood gathering at his neck, attached to a cape with torn edges swinging down to his ankles. He pulls it over his shock white hair. It shadows over his face impossibly so, until all you can see are his green-green eyes peering out like a wolf hiding in the brush.

He ends up calling himself Phantom. 

(Maybe now he can start putting lyrics to his lullabies; his memories may not have returned, locked away with the sound of a clock, but the dead can talk. One of them may just have answers.) 

----------

Home is where we are

Home is where you are

Home is where I am

-----------------

Dedicated to @gascansposts for being the one who introduced me to the band Yaelokre, and thus being the whole reason I was inspired to write this in the first place >:] Those lyrics at the line breaks are all from their album Hayfields.

[watchingwisteria]

im so sorry i get it now i really do, the gay angels have me shaking screaming crying at all hours of the day and night, they mean everything to me i am literally thinking about them all the time and what it would mean to love someone steadily and silently through eternity, what it would mean to love across the lines of a divine war of supposed good and evil, what it would mean to carve out a space for oneself and ones lover in no man’s land, in the grey and moral ambiguity when you were created to be black and white without blemish. god i love them so much i just

[lavendarneverlands]

put 5 songs you listen to, post it, then send this ask to 10 of your favorite followers <333

Thank you so much lovely🫶🫶🫶

Oh goodness this is a hard question because I like way too many songs😂 though I am a huge Swiftie & since I’ve on my TOG binge have been listening to a lot of fan playlists so let’s let my history decide🤣 these have been in a heavy rotation:

“Who’s Afraid of Little Old Me?” by Taylor Swift

“Red Wine Supernova” by Chappell Roan

“Please Please Please” by Sabrina Carpenter

“Blonde” by Maisie Peters

“Can’t Catch Me Now” by Olivia Rodrigo

@impossibelle @iwantavaldezinator @idfendyr @shadowhunters77 @archerons-elain @cheap-spirits @maevecrom @endlessdaydream @somethingsomewhereanywhere @korepio

p.s. as always, no pressure tags :-) 💕

(Heads up for some tags: this is my main account, the side-blog ur probably used to seeing (as I’m more active) is @acourtofquestions I have a terrible habit of mixing up pages/conversations; so if ur going “who tagged me?” it’s just me lol)

[soni-dragon]

ay mariposas, no se aguanten más ♡

[ID: a digital painting of Zatz and Maya from Maya and the Three. They are both drawn with wings, Maya a set of golden eagle wings, and Zatz a set of purple bat wings. They fly and press their foreheads together in joy. Zatz is drawn with pointed ears and tusk-like teeth. The background is made up of colorful lines and golden butterflies fly around them. The second image is the same but with a blank green background, and the third image is a close up. /End ID]

[gods-favorite-autistic]

Track list for Fig and the Cig Figs independently published Junior Year album (officially named “Infaethable”)

Teenage Rebellion

Night Yorb (a heavy metal banger)

Summer Scaries

Devils Nectar

Time Quangle (a love song about Ayda)

Multiclass (Gorgug sings on this!)

The Ballad Of Lucy Frostblade (Kristen was the one who convinced Fig to write this)

So Late, So Tactical

Do You Have A Fucking Warrant

Cassandra (Can You Hear Me)

Hall Of Mirrors

President Applebees (written entirely in the night after Kristen gets elected by a drunk Fig with extremely drunk notes by Kristen)

Raging For Love (inspired by Gorgug, of course)

The Elven Oracle (Has A Day Job) (So Stop Bothering Her)

Maximum Legend

Fury Of The Ball

Cursed

Infaethable

The Bad Kids

[yandere-romanticaa]

Someone please talk to me about this show because when I was a kid I was OBSESSED

[abovetherainandroses]

Pete & Patrick + Grand Theft Autumn/Where Is Your Boy, through the years

2007 / 2008 / 2009 / 2013 / 2014 / 2015 / 2016 / 2017 / 2018 / 2019 / 2021 / 2022 / 2023

bonus: so much for (tour) dust staging ver. (2023)

(1) my video / (2) x

[oobbbear]

This is low key fire

[hipsternumbertwo]

"Objects in Mirror" | Inanimate Insanity [Previous Post]

[littleplantfreak]

'When', not 'if'

("I'm not a romantic" I cry and scream before dropping the most sickening thing i've written to date. Blame @stunie because i did tell her i would write the most ume thing ever and maybe this is it. The title in my docs for it is 'Fucking disgusting' but i figured i better not title it that here because I'd be seeing it in my notifs lmaoo)

SFW/no cw unless you hate fluff

When you wake up from your nap, one of your slippers is gone, and there's a blanket on you that wasn't there prior. Looking at the clock, it's been about an hour since everyone had left your apartment once your birthday party ended. The day as a whole had been chaotic, your boyfriend shoving you out the door with a note to go see Kotoha.

The note took you farther than that, though, as it seemed Umemiya created a whole scavenger hunt for your birthday that had you running into all of your friends, having dessert at your favorite cafe, and eventually ending up at your shared apartment to find that all that time spent around town was a distraction so that he could set up the space for your party. After it had ended, you were banished to the couch because princesses aren't allowed to help clean up their own birthday parties, which had you huffing and falling face down into the chicken shaped pillow affectionately called Mr.Clucky.

It was a product of your boyfriend's endless cycle of hobbies when he took up sewing. A little lopsided and overfilled with stuffing, you complained to and into Mr.Clucky with your face pressed into him. Apparently, he was soft enough to fall asleep on because before you knew it, you had been drooling on him the entire hour. Prying yourself off the couch took more effort than was almost worth it before your eyes fell on the reason you were so tired to begin with.

Hajime smiles and hums looking at your bleary eyes. "Good morning sunshine, I was just about to take you to bed," he says, folding a dish towel over a chair. You toss off the blanket and grab on the slipper that fell under the living room table before padding up to him. Dipping your hands under both of his arms to lock them together behind him, now your face is in his chest instead of the chicken, which is entirely preferred.

"Don't wanna go to bed just yet," you muffle, sinking even deeper into him when both of his arms wrap around you in support. He smells like dish soap and birthday cake, and you turn your head to hear the heartbeat in his chest.

"What do you wanna do lovey? You know I'd give you the world if you asked," you can hear the rumble of his voice in his chest with your pressed ear. He's cheesy, but half asleep, you feel just as much, if not cheesier.

"I have the world if I have you, they're one in the same. So just you is more than fine." Your eyes are closed, but you feel him shiver a little. "I wanna dance with you, though," you say, voice still soft and kinda raspy from sleep.

"Dunno if I can top what you just said even when I propose," he chokes out a laugh, or at least you think it's one. He shifts his hold a bit and starts leading you both in a lazy sway that starts near the toaster and ends next to the potted plant at the back door before starting over.

"When? Not if?" You tease him, a hand going to scratch the nape of his neck lightly.

"I'll never meet another you, so I'm pretty set on When."

"I'll say yes." Because you will. You can't imagine a life where you wouldn't.

"And I'll still cry when you do." You can tell he's crying now because it comes out shaky and his hold tightens a bit, before you lean back, stopping your impromptu waltz. Both of your hands come up to cup his face and look at his teary grey eyes before cooing at him.

"You big baby! Save those tears for When please. You'll be congested and sniffley all night if you don't stop." You start cleaning off his face with your sleeve, but he stops one of your hands and starts peppering your palm and wrist with small kisses. "I think I'm ready for bed now. Princess's orders," you say, dragging him towards your bedroom. You'll have to figure out tomorrow just how soon When is going to be, but for now you can hear the slow thumps of Hajime's steps as he follows behind you, squeezing your connected hand. It's not pressing in the least, you think, because it feels like there will be plenty of tomorrows too.

-----

When you wake up in the morning, it takes you an hour to realize Hajime had put the ring on your finger while you were asleep.

It takes you five minutes to run through town in your pajamas, barefoot to find and full on tackle him in front of the place he was about to get your breakfast in.

And it takes about two minutes of unintelligible blubbering on both your parts before anyone understands what is going on.

No one timed it, but if they did, it would've taken less than ten minutes for the whole town to find out via texts, calls, and yells down the streets and through windows that you're engaged.

[solaestial]

SLEEPWALK - Hitorie

(link to song translation)

[orykorioart]

June 2023

How could you forget Lup?

[Image Description: A 5-panel illustrated comic featuring Taako and Lup in a limited color palette of pink, light brown, light red, purple, blue and yellow. Taako is is depicted with light brown skin and dark hair, which he ties behind his back. He wears a purple cloak. Lup is depicted with light brown skin and dark hair, which she ties in front of her. She wears a red cloak.

Panel 1: Young Taako and Lup, on both sides of a pot. Lup is stirring as Taako looks in. Below the panel is captioned with purple text:

“What’s the feeling”

Panel 2: Close-up of young Taako and Lup. You can see half of their face, and they are excitedly talking to each other. Below the panel is captioned with purple text:

“When you have a broken home, home, home?”

Panel 3: Pans down to young Taako and Lup’s torso. They are standing close to each other, indicating that they are holding hands. Below the panel is captioned, text in purple:

“Where’s the love when you were left on your own”

Panel 4: Taako’s hand, wearing the Bureau of Balance bracer. His hand is relaxed, but alone. There is a brief out line of Lup’s hand, reaching out for his. Below the panel is captioned with purple text:

“So alone”

Panel 5: Taako is standing center-frame, and you can only see the bottom half of his face and his torso. There is a single tear rolling down his cheek, his mouth slightly agape. He is grasping the Umbrastaff tightly in one hand, holding it close to his chest. There is a faint outline of a hand on his shoulder. Below the panel is captioned with red text:

“Who said you’re on your own?” End ID]

[lonesomenecromancer]

here have a pure vessel (this took way too long)

has anyone heard of the song ”hard” by poppy beacuse IT FITS THEM SO WELL

[applestorms]

ok, well. if last time i talked about parallels between near & light, i guess it’s only fair that this time i talk about parallels between mello & misa. yap central on this blog lately.

the main thing that stands out the most about mello & misa, and the reason why i will forever Defend them and their place in the story, is that in my mind they both function in a similar way on a narrative level: namely, both of them are incredibly active wild-card characters that keep the action going and the story moving forward when the other main characters like light, L, & near start getting too passive.

notably, while i often see this trait praised in mello, usually in the context of a comparative criticism of near for his overly-abundant passivity, i have also seen it used as a criticism of misa's character, that she breaks up the status quo of DN too significantly and thereby makes the story feel less realistic. this last point in particular is an odd argument to make imo, as if anything misa's presence only increases the realism of DN by adding some extra luck/random chance into the story in a way that is ultimately still character-motivated and thus easier for the audience to go along with-- something DN in general is very good at, often introducing elements through pure chance but keeping them grounded in characters enough that you almost don't even notice.

take light meeting naomi misora, for example: the only reason he runs across her at all is because he offers to run an errand for his mom on a bored laundry day, literally stumbling across her right at the exact moment she is divulging important insights she is literally the only person capable of making about kira. yet this moment does not stand out as particularly aggravating or out of place in the story, as ultimately the only reason why light is able to get out of that situation is his own quick thinking and ability to calm himself while under immense pressure, squeezing his way out of a potentially run-ending situation he didn't even know existed moments prior.

(not a fan of that big joel video, if you couldn't tell. lmao.)

point is, mello & misa both fulfill about the same narrative function in the story by being so aggressive in their actions, catching the others off guard even if their plans aren't as well thought out or careful as they could otherwise be. they're both incredibly passionate, dedicated characters as well, tough enough to take the hit when it inevitably comes, and in my opinion neither of them are nearly as stupid as the other MCs like to make them out to be. to some degree, i think both of them are aware of the fact that they can't win at the Mind Game Cold War Bullshit the others are inclined to get involved in, so they instead choose to carve out their own place in the story through sheer perseverance alone.

which, speaking of passion: one of the most interesting parallels i think you can make between mello & misa is the ways in which they idolize their respective heroes, misa's obviously being light while mello's is L. allow me to elaborate.

as this post points out, DN has some very interesting use of its religious imagery & theming, and in particular its use of christian/catholic gothic imagery in its story and especially its art. however, as op notes, a lot of this is quite superficial, ascribing to an aesthetic of "kitschy Catholicism," that was characteristic of a lot of early 2000s japanese goth style. yet, while i admit that a more serious consideration of religious elements in the art & story could add some interesting flavor to the story, i also think that, regardless of intention, the superficiality of DN's religious elements works really well in the context of this particular story. as i stated in my tags on that post: light is a superficial god. he is a fake, a scam, some idiot human that stumbled across the powers of a real shinigami and got his head up his ass about it. and a lot of the arcs of other characters in DN is about their reaction to light's claims-- whether they choose to follow him (e.g. misa, mikami), follow somebody else (e.g. mello), or follow nobody at all (e.g. near, also kinda soichiro?), and the implications that has for their lives and personalities.

this is all to say that while you can, on a surface level, connect misa & mello pretty easily as the two aggressive, fashionable blondes of the series, i also think that these somewhat superficial traits betray a greater connection between the two of them. if we understand the christian/catholic elements of misa & mello's fashion as a demonstration of their connection to not just a higher power but a lie, a superficial deity simply reflecting the sunlight of powers greater than himself, then i think we have great insight into another key element of both their characters.

do not forget: in the world of DN, heaven & hell do not exist. at least in the context of death itself, the realm & lore of the shinigami reign supreme, a point which the DN musical makes even more overt: "Isn't it a laugh? / Isn't it a shame? / Thinking there is someone in heaven to blame?" and "Going through the motions / as if there will be a reward / Oh, while we stay eternally bored!" (BEST SONGGG.) everyone is destined for the same fate of MU, the same void of nothingness awaits all. no reward, no punishment, no greater deity looking down upon us than the bored, slothful shinigami, lazing about in their realm and picking people off only when necessary (for the most part).

misa & mello are thus dedicating themselves to false idols, and we can see the negative effects this has on them in almost every facet of their character-- particularly for mello, who is perhaps more self-aware and has more of a mixed emotional outlook on his idol, but maybe even to a more extreme degree for misa. i keep going back to this idea of equating boredom with depression in DN, but where light/L/near are all "bored" in a very quiet, passive, stewing-in-bed late at night kinda way, misa & mello are characteristically a lot more aggressive and intense about it-- while neither of them are super overtly suicidal, necessarily, their actions still betray a distinct lack of care for their own safety or lives, expressing the same thematic sentiment as the others. even if they still don't straight up say it, through their actions they're a lot louder about not liking themselves, and seem to take the problems they see in the world more personally, shouldering the blame as a failure within themselves instead of projecting it outward like the others: e.g. light taking his unhappiness at the emptiness of his life at the start of the story & placing the blame on the world for "going to shit" & humanity's moral failings, versus misa being willing to literally & figuratively give up her life for KIRA the second he demands it, whether that be in the form of shinigami eyes or killing her own friends w/o second thought-- all because he was the only thing to bring justice to her own parents' deaths, an almost undoubtedly traumatizing/horrible experience for her considering how much value she places on KIRA/light afterwards.

to clarify, this is not to say that all of these characters are actually and literally depressed and/or suicidal, though you could certainly make that argument for some/all of them-- this is just one way that i think you could interpret their roles in the plot, and their thematic attachment to the story. even if DN isn't all that interested in considering the True Moral Answer to ethics/the justice system/human society/etc, it definitely takes at least some interest in the emotional viewpoints of characters in relation to those concepts, so i think this is a fair enough approach to take. or to say this another way, it's less about justifying the claim that "the world is shit," and more about trying to understand the emotional motivation & experience of feeling like the world is shit, if that makes sense.

that being said...speaking more on the whole "not liking themselves," thing: even if she doesn't say it aloud often, if ever, i think that misa is deeply aware of the fact that she was not supposed to live this long, that her existence at all is a pure stroke of luck that let her live on past her destined date. she dedicates herself to light so fully, not even necessarily expecting reciprocation (though she at least reserves herself the possibility of such), because being a disciple to her god at least gives her life some kind of purpose. similarly, i think mello is also aware of just how out of reach the one thing he wants is, how his desperation in and of itself is ironically the one thing keeping him from surpassing near and truly being #1. it's important to note that pre-time skip misa & post-skip mello are almost exactly the same age, around 20 years old at the time of their main arcs. they're immature, and in the case of mello especially, are lashing out at the world in whatever way they can because they know they don't quite fit into it in the way that they want to or should. regardless of the intent behind it, mello & misa both still make the conscious decision to kill with the DN-- perhaps in a way that still keeps their humanity, at least following near's logic, but it's a decision to end a human life either way.

anyways, going back to my previous point, this "worshiping of false idols," idea has some interesting implications-- for misa & mello yes, but also for L and the ways in which he contrasts again light, as under this logic mello's treatment kind of inherently gives L a similar status as a sort of false god/idol. which-- actually makes a lot of sense? or at the very least, viewing wammy's house as a kind of mystery cult a la the eleusinian mysteries is a neat approach to take. L & light's mutual alienation from humanity fits them both filling a false god status, anyway. also there's another thread of analysis you could follow here where near is instead fit into the role of the person mello is fixated on which AAAAAAAAA has interesting implications but jesus fucking christ, this post is long. some thoughts for another time, i suppose.