#its a way of life
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An idea came to me
And I had to draw it out
What if he had this style for a while
Boom, he's beautiful XD
I've drawn him for my au when he's like 17/18 when he first comes to hyrule castle? I imagine him being late 20's early 30's here, way after he leaves and goes back to whichever village he came from X") hmm, I'm brainstorming- I've come up with a liiiitle bit of backstory for him so far 🤔 I really gotta get to writing it all out, jeez
Oki yes anyway hope y'all like this little piece i did :)
#let him style his hair more#astor#sketch#astor age of calamity#hes like what? maybe late 20's early 30's here#long gone from hyrule castle#hes in his “dead inside” phase#its not a phase#its a way of life
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prompt: touch
[@unicyclehippo here u go]
//
touch
you think maybe you have always been meant to come back to the ocean.
this is one you've never been to before, in a place you know mostly from movies. there's a pier in the distance and the rest is just blue: the water, the sky, the hazy horizon line in the middle. a calm late morning, after you'd woken up in a big soft white bed with beatrice curled against you, your arm around her waist and your forehead pressed between her shoulder blades; she was still asleep. the vast, devastating nothingness of the other realm fades away when you feel her breathe beneath you, deeply and at peace. you feel the heat of her, the softness of her skin where her shirt rides up from her sleep shorts. you're greedy for it; greedy for everything: tacos and what it was like to kiss her again without death looming over you like a shadow, grief already sitting rotten in your mouths.
you still don't quite believe in a divine order but you do believe in this: she shifts, eventually, as light pours in through the gossamer curtains and bathes her face in gold. she sighs and turns around toward you and there's a wonder in her eyes — gold, too, and more beautiful than you can even remember — as she looks at you, disbelief and joy and awe. you remember the first morning you woke up after you got the halo, how you had been so scared to fall asleep because what if it was a dream, what if it would end — but you had stared at your hand, moving like you'd thought you'd only get to do after you died, in the sun. she looks at you like that; tears fill her eyes and you hadn't missed it, yesterday, the ink on her wrist — in this life — and the sorrow. she had been afraid to fall asleep.
she brings her hand, shaky, to touch your cheek, to rest there in the light.
'i'm still here,' you say, a benediction. 'i'm right here.'
her eyes fill with tears and you kiss her. eventually you get up; she would be content to stay in bed all day but you have missed the world, its pain and joy, its bad smells and traffic jams and the softness of a dog's fur — you have missed the world. you want the world with her.
you dress in soft clothes she'd bought for you — an admission she'd made with a blush that had made your heart ache in fondness — and let her take your hand and lead you to the sea. it's her ocean, you realize, in the way that nothing is but matters all the same. it's her ocean where she prayed to you, and longed for you, and found moments of solace. the sand hasn't warmed up to the day quite yet, and the water is cooler than you expect, when she steps in with you and it laps at your ankles.
'i thought california was supposed to be hot,' you say, but you think you're choked up, crying: you feel it all: her warm palm and the bright winter sun and the pacific, small, harmless shells underfoot — coquina clams, she explains later — and then she laughs. you feel it more than anything, right in your chest. you've witnessed miracles before, have been one yourself, but that — that — is a fucking miracle.
'i love you,' she says, and kisses you while the tide goes out, and you feel that too.
/
sight
you allow yourself to look in the mirror later, an elegant full-length one with a gold rim in beatrice's big closet. yours, now, too, you suppose. you let yourself look in the mirror and take a deep breath: beatrice has seen you for days, now, has looked gently and greedily, wide-eyed when you'd straddled her. you have saved the world, you remind yourself — you have saved the earth, and heaven, and realms between with no name.
but still, gnosis, you have found, can't fix everything: your back hurts when the sun sinks below the horizon, and your ribs and hips press against your skin more than they had before you had gone through the portal. you had trimmed the hair between your legs and shaved under your arms and along the skin of your calves, your shins, the tender inside of your thighs. you had showered and allowed yourself to look at your body, its failings and imperfections and resilience. you washed yourself gently: the birthmark near your seventh rib, the dip in your collarbones, the softness of your breasts. you have let yourself look, but not like this.
you have scars all over from the divinium. they're angry and red and you had thought, maybe, while you were lying in nothingness and pain, in and out of consciousness, for an amount of time that you will never know how to translate into years on earth, the simple blessing of a planet spinning around the sun — day and night. god saw it was good, you guess. you try not to care: the halo imbedded in your back, a perfect circle; the shrapnel scars on your thighs, into your side, a small one along your collarbone. you have lived eternities; you have looked gods in their eyes — but you're still a person. you're twenty-one here, a birthday having passed while you were gone. you like the way your boobs like in this one red bra beatrice definitely brought for you, and she had taken you to a fancy salon yesterday so you could get a haircut like you'd wanted; you'd gone shopping for makeup and shoes and new underwear. you're just a person and you want to look beautiful. you want to look pretty.
but your scars aren't, you think. you know, they're not.
but then beatrice walks in, her airpods in, her eyes on her phone, her hakama high over her hips, her abs dripping with sweat, her hair up in a bun. you had told her that you want to have a life with her, which means she needs to do the things that had brought her comfort and joy; it made you smile when she took you to watch her surf, and when she showed you her dojo.
it takes her a few moments to even notice you standing there — another time, you would tease her for losing her edge — but there's definitely not enough time to pretend that you were doing anything other than staring at yourself naked in the mirror. she stills, and then takes her airpods out and tucks both them and her phone into her pocket. you don't have to say anything: you fought a war together. you died for her. she made herself a life that immediately had a place for you in it, in this house by the sea, bright fruit in a bowl and lavender lotion and a tv that sits above a fireplace. she walks toward you efficiently, measured, and then tucks her body around yours, like she's shielding you from a blast, or loving you in the sweep of the afternoon breeze. her skin is warm and her hand runs along your spine until it stills between your shoulder blades.
the halo hums and aches toward her palm.
eventually she turns your body gently and tucks her chin over your shoulder so you can look in the mirror again. she meets your eyes and then closes hers, leans down and kisses beneath your ear. you had seen the red lines left on her shoulders from her chest binder yesterday, had kissed them and massaged her tight, sore muscles. you had seen her; she had let you see. her fingertips touch the worst of the divinium scars, just once, and she has seen you too.
'you're so gorgeous,' she says, low and sincere. she looks at you and she means it.
finally, it feels like you can breathe.
/
proprioception
'okay,' beatrice says, patient and happy, even though you are failing spectacularly, 'so you hold the second chopstick right here.' she places it between your thumb and forefinger, like she already has a few times before.
you try valiantly, as hard as you tried to learn to walk on water, or block a punch, to pick up the very expensive, incredible piece of sushi. beatrice has taught you how to swim, how to hold a pencil properly, how to cut meat with a knife. she's eaten with chopsticks her entire life, she'd told you one day when she'd ordered chinese food for dinner and tried to teach you then, enviably and quickly scooping fried rice into her mouth without spilling any. you haven't felt embarrassed at all, because, like, how the fuck were you supposed to know these things; you were paralyzed and abused and then very, very busy, so it's always been something you'd felt peace with. plus, beatrice has never faulted you for it, or looked down on you. she compliments you easily, genuinely, all the time.
you drop the entire piece of sushi into the small dish filled with soy sauce and you sigh. beatrice just plucks it out and eats it herself with a smile, although you're sure she's screaming inside that the flavor profile is now off because the fish — the star of the show — has been overpowered.
'there's gonna be none left for me,' you pout, and she shrugs.
'we can order more on the pope's dime. we can order as much as we want.'
she shows you how to hold the chopsticks again, and then it's like something clicks, and you clumsily manage to grasp the sushi and then hold onto it enough to dip it in the soy sauce and then bring it to your mouth. it's so, so good — made even better by the fact that you did something that had been hard. the stakes are lower than learning how to phase through twenty feet of concrete or heal from a thirteen story fall that had exploded every organ in your body, but that's not a life. that's staving off death, a losing battle, a war that's bigger than you ever were.
but you sit across from the handsome woman you love on a patio in a city named after angels, a heater nearby warming your shoulders, flavor bursting on your tongue. your fingers are clumsy, like you sometimes feel with your love. but beatrice feeds you a piece eventually, grinning, and you eat edamame with your hands, and the sake makes your head feel light. this is life.
/
smell
the desert at night smells unlike anything you could've ever imagined. beatrice takes a hit from the joint she'd picked up from her favorite dispensary before the drive here. the joshua trees are spiky and bizarre and stunning; you've been to realms beyond comprehension but this is like another planet, rich and alive. there's rain in the distance and beatrice passes the joint with a low laugh at nothing.
you lie with her in a hammock and look up at the stars, clouds the color of a bottle of red wine on the horizon, rolling lazily over the mountains. you'd driven past the wind turbines and through the hills tinged red, orange poppies bursting on the green of the hillside and the sky so blue your eyes can't quite see it, specks of color floating through your vision when you look up.
there's agave and yucca and desert lily; sprouts of plants you had been both pleased and surprised to find were onions. you'd seen quail and small lizards with blue tails; rabbits so fast they're skittering away in the blink of an eye. there's the smell of the weed, heady and lush. there's your shared laundry detergent when you press your nose into beatrice's chest; there's her crisp cologne, all spice and musk; there's her skin, warm and heaven.
the sumac grows thick, stems and leaves offering themselves up even in the dark of night. you think everything here longs for the sun.
beatrice's hair, long and loose, just the two of you, smells like lavender and mint. the stars outnumber the wonders you've seen everywhere else other than the freckles you map on her skin. this world is astounding in its vastness, in its texture and overwhelm. but then there's her, and the small of her body: her elbows and the scar on her thigh that you kiss in the morning light sometimes, the way she folds your underwear unnecessarily when she does the laundry and the candles she lights when you watch silly tv before bed. creosote and sage. the smoke from blown-out birthday candles. the shed snake-skin and rattle somewhere that poses no danger. wishes and prayers and consecrate.
the rain grows closer. you stay warm in her arms.
/
sound
the bass is overwhelming in the best way. you feel it in your lungs, like every time you breathe the beat fills you up. beatrice had steadfastly driven to the greek, calmly following directions but her knuckles were white around the steering wheel when she'd had to merge onto three separate freeways. there's kinds of love you're always going to be learning: beatrice's safe driving, even in los angeles; the way she presses her body against yours from behind, her hands eager along your hips, your ribs, once, even, the inside of your thigh; her bright laugh when you turn around and tug her face to face because a song you'd wanted to see live since the moment you'd first heard it is next on the set list. there's whiskey on her lips from the shots you'd done earlier; you sneak a hand under her t-shirt and rest it along the waistband against her spine.
'let's ride!' you scream along with the crowd, overwhelmed by it all: the pulse and the sweat and the worship of it all. you turn to bea and even she's swept up in it, grinning, bouncing up and down. you tug the elastic out of her hair and kiss her and then sing along. it's so, so loud, this close to the stage, filling your entire body. and there's a reverence in it that you haven't ever felt before: fun. you fell in love with music like this because of its excess, because of its truth, because of its joy.
'i think my ears are still ringing,' beatrice says, a little loud, after you get back to your car, exhausted and sated and so beautiful.
you grin. 'that was heaven.'
she looks at you with a smile. 'you had a good time?'
you take her hand, ignore the honk from the car behind you, just for a moment, and kiss her. i've never felt so real, so alive, you want to say, but that seems to sentimental, too dramatic, for a night where you had gotten to sing all my life, i've been waiting for a good time, a good time — 'can we go to another show soon?'
she shifts the car into drive and then squeezes your knee before she puts her hands faithfully at ten and two. 'we can go to any shows you want, although i might need to invest in some earplugs.'
you laugh. 'i can live with that.'
/
taste
you've done this a few times before, but never quite like this. you press beatrice against the wall in your bedroom, shared now: the side of her bed, nearest the door, with two books on it placed neatly, an elegant charging dock for her phone, airpods, and watch, and a minimalist lamp on her nightstand; yours with a stack of six books that you're reading concurrently, haphazard, and three charging cables, one for your favorite vibrator included.
she moans into your mouth, your fingers tangled in her hair, tugging like she likes. you tug her shirt over her head and, delightfully, she isn't wearing a binder or a bra. still, 'do you feel comfortable with this?' you ask, because you love her more than anything, and when she nods, a little frantic, and then says a clear yes, god yes, you bring your mouth to one of her dark nipples, pinch the other between your fingers. her skin is soft and tastes just faintly of her lotion and the ocean — flowers and salt.
and then, like everything you've ever done has led you here, you kneel before her. you've met gods; you've known heaven and hell; you've died, a few times over. you kneel before her and you pray in a language only the two of you know. you'd read yesterday that if you took a human's dna and stretched it, stacked it end on end, it would stretch all the way to jupiter and back ten times over. there are the stars and the sea and the desert and this city of angels, with its haze and its gods. and there's this house, with its whitewashed walls and soft blankets. you're young, your bodies full of scars, your bodies filled with afternoon light. you take her clit into your mouth and her knees buckle and she tastes perfect, sun and salt and an endlessness that is so full, that is so much the opposite of nothingness you remember less and less every day. the black hair between her legs is soft against your chin and you drag a tongue through her folds. her hands, reserved, steady, usually, find their way into your hair and pull, desperate. you have died so many times to no funerals, no pyres: you bury yourself now, time and again, in the holiest place you know. the only communion you have ever cared for — you take her body into yours.
she tastes like heaven. she tastes like the ocean. she tastes like home. you tally the miracles again, another infinity as she arches into your mouth.
#wn#avatrice#avatrice fic#wn fic#prompts#anyway ollie & i have gone so feral over ava like... coming back & getting to have sensation again#wild#there's so much more to this but a lil smth on this los angeles snowday for me lol#girls against god#i guess?#also butch bea i guess but she hasn't BLOSSOMED quite yet but like#butch bea 🥺🫡#its a way of life
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The Rookie 2x5 | HIMYF 2x2
#lying liars who lie#its a lifestyle#its a way of life#haha#jk#himyf#himyfedit#the rookie#tim bradford#hilary duff#eric winter#gifs#gifset#gif#2x2#2x5#how i met your father#mood#relatable#relatable gifs#relatable gif#poetic cinema#cinematic parallels#love
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angst of them and i cry every. single. time...
#or literally anything#them drawn in the same room and i freak out#sourpatch duo is the air i breathe#its a way of life#(not shipping btw)#sourpatch duo
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Awwww yeah.
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all i know is listen to taylor swift and make friendship bracelets for my eras tour concert that is 10 months away
#its a way of life#taylor swift#the eras tour#mia speaks now#june 23rd will go down in history for me
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Katniss is such an unreliable narrator. She says "Then something unexpected happens. At least, I don't expect it because I don't think of District 12 as a place that cares about me" girl you deliver strawberries to the Mayor, you hunt and trade for the district, when you fell at Prim being chosen someone caught you, when you went to Prim people parted for you, when you volunteered EVERYONE stopped. Idk how to tell you but I think you're a pillar of the community.
#katniss everdeen#the hunger games trilogy#the hunger games#primrose everdeen#hunger games#batcavescolony reads the hunger games#suzanne collins#'now it seems i have become someone precious' NOW? GIRL BFFR you're their hunter girl#and this isn't negative just bffr girl#your WHOLE DISTRICT did the three finger salute that you yourself says means admiration thanks and goodbye to someone you love and on top is#old a rarely used. your WHOLE DISTRICT decided in that moment that they needed to bring back this sign of respect for YOU#...................................................................#idk why some people are thinking i mean this as negative i don't she is unreliable but its not intentional. like when Peeta heart stoped in#CF she doesn't know what Finnick is doing at first cus she doesn't know off the top of her head what cpr is. she also thinks Peeta after the#reaping is acting for the cameras. he isnt we dind out later his mom basically told him Katniss was gonna win and he would die. obviously#shes not doing it on purpose shes just for lack of better words uneducated? as in she doesn't know everything shes not omnipotent#so when Plutarch (? second games guy) shows her his mokingjay hiden watch shes like *wtf that's weird?* then the people traveling to#district 13 show her the mockingjay cookie and explains it and she then goes on the difference between his watch and their cookie#and why does eveyone act as if district 12 is as bad as the capital? they CANT help Katniss and Prim in the way you want. they cant give#them food. none of them have any! and im not putting iton Katniss but they hid they needed food so they could stay together. it sounds like#some of you are in this our world mentally of what people do after a loved one dies (brings food constantly checks on them etc) district 12#cant do that. they dont have food and they're all suffering. you cant give someone food when you have none to give. then theirs the fact#that peeta DID help. Peeta buring the bread and tossing some to her then taking a beating from his mom is a HUGE thing in the books.#he used his resources to help her like you all said someone should.#district 12 DID (rip) care about Katniss before the hunger games. why do you think she was allowed to hunt? or how her trades were good#these are the little ways 12 can shows Katniss they love her. but again Katniss doesn't see this and YES its because she had ptsd before the#hunger games as well. i swear some of you make it seem like d12 was all living a life of luxury and glaring down at Katniss.#other things that show Katniss is in hight standing with at least her people of d12 is her dad was known enough through d12 for peeta dad to#comment on his singing along with his commenting on her mom. also her mom is a healer in the community. yeah her parents arnt the top but#of d12 but they are/were definitely high staning in the Seam.
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i giggled so much about @fence-time’s playground au i had to draw my own ideas
if @cherrifire were the teacher/supervisor:
#stayed up until 2 coloring these#and im so glad ibis paint declares these images#in the WORST POSSIBLE RESOLUTION#its funnier that way anyways#life series#trafficblr#wild life spoilers#grian#goodtimeswithscar#ldshadowlady#pearlescentmoon#solidaritygaming#cherrifire#various other series members#playground au#wild life smp
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Concept: Peter actually got bitten by a totally normal spider. It's just a coincidence that his mutant powers were awakened around the same time
#peter: 'i got bitten by a radioactive spider'#the xmen: '.....what the FUCK are you talking about'#my posts#marvel#spiderman#xmen#he gets targeted by sentinels and is just ?? very confused ???#i also cant stop thinking about how everyone else not in the know definitely thinks spiderman is a mutant too#it really explains why he gets so much hate#its not just because ppl hate vigilantes- its anti mutant sentiment#ALSO they make a big deal of him not letting anyone know hes got powers bc theyll figure out his identity#when really theyd first just assume he was a mutant#which could ruin his life in a very different way
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[The Strongest "Hear Me Out"]
+ bonus Yuuji POV:
Apparently this boy ain't traumatized enough!!!🗣️🗣️
#jjk#jujutsu kaisen#my art#fan art#sukuna#ryomen sukuna#satoru gojo#gojo satoru#gojo#satoru#sukugo#true form#og#itadori yuuji#yuuji itadori#a scenario of what if Gojo got to see Sukuna's true form by the end of their fight cause' why not#apologies if it looks wonky i haven't been able to draw properly in quite some time#this may or may not be my last drawing of the year as i'll be busy giving exams during new years ;_; life isn't fair.#my art's going thru a metamorphosis phase so i'm still unsure bout alotta stuff but if there's one thing i like#its the way i shaded satoru's nose~#and yes He's not listening to Sukuna giving him sophisticated death threats
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main take aways from Halloween (1978) rewatch:
michael myers is canonically 21??? this bitch should be at the club
*sees tiddies* ***MURDEROUS RAMPAGE NOISES***
that's it that's the movie
outside of the fact that everyone who has sex is murdered by the narrative, this is a surprisingly chill portrayal of female sexuality? these teen girls are horny and actively enjoying Getting It On with their boytoys. no pushy boyfriends sneaking in through their bedroom windows--these ladies are taking the initiative to sneak out and GET SOME. one of them gets laid and then immediately orders her boyfriend to get her a beer. (yes she gets Slashered soon afterward, but so does the boyfriend so honestly, gender equality.) yes the Final Girl is the only one not having sex, but she's not bullied for that, nor are her friends slut shamed except possibly by being murdered by the narrative
actually the only character who is shown being morally condemned on-screen is michael myers. specifically FOR his violent overreaction to other people's sex lives. (people he is spying on). metaphorically, the villain is American Puritanism sticking its judgy nose into other people's business.
aka Michael Myers Is A Republican
but actually the real villain is the doctor. guy's a judgemental, shaming, pathologizing asshole. and he's been in charge of michael's care since he was SIX YEARS OLD? kid never had a chance. i'd go on a killing spree too
also the parents. where are the parents? it's halloween night and all the teenage girls are home babysitting their younger siblings? come to think of it, michael's first victim was his own older sister, whom he killed while she was babysitting him. teen girls are really shouldering a labour burden here. maybe parentification is the true villain
side note: mike commits his first murder wearing a clown costume...which is never referenced again? his 'iconic' costume is a generic mask and wig and jumpsuit, when we coulda had a Killer Clown Michael Myers??? travesty
i like how the Final Girl and her friend casually smoke weed in her car. yeah she's an honor student and her friend is the sheriff's daughter. yeah they smoke weed. so what it's 1978
(to reiterate, mike is 21 and should be at the club. im not saying he shouldn't be rampaging, im saying it's sad that he broke out, tasted freedom for the first time in his life, and immediately snuck back into his childhood home to go rampaging. let's have a remake where he goes to a nightclub and has a few beers. maybe some slutty dancing. then rampage)
oh no he's hot
#HALLOWEEN#halloween the movie#michael myers#do you think he's a mike? mikey? to his friends? if slashers had friends?#i'll be honest i was expecting this movie to be way more of a bitch to its female characters#i mean yeah they died but so did some dudes#there's just a lack of cattiness compared to the way most later movies portrayed teenage girls idk#yeah the Final Girl is a Virgin and a Bookworm. but there's no bullying or any strong sense that's she's morally superior to everyone else#mostly she AND the other girls feel a bit sorry for her lack of a social life. one even tries to set her up with a date to the school dance#solidarity! trying to get your nerd friend laid!#overall it's just teenagers being teenagers and then a slasher comes in and ruins everything with his Lack Of Chill#like yeah dude sometimes teenagers have sex. get over it#also something to be said about how while the girl who survives is the one who isn't sexually active and dresses conservatively...#ultimately those things aren't ENOUGH to prevent her from being targeted#you could say that the other girls 'provoked' the villain (the same way women irl are so often accused of provoking their attackers)#but ultimately that doesn't keep the Final Girl safe. it just delays the inevitable.#because violent men never need excuses. no matter how eager society is to provide them.#ultimately she is at the mercy of the same violent whims because it was never her behavior that invited the violence.#gendered violence doesn't need an invitation.#also she doesn't save herself the doctor saves her#it's not her actions or choices that put her in danger OR save her from it--once again it is the whim of a man#no this wasn't intended to be a feminist movie it's just fun how you could argue it that way
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Today 🔮 has been magical
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his therapist woulda had a field day at their next appointment
#my art#doodle#fanart#resident evil 8#ethan winters#i think its so funny that he has a journal in re8. not only does he have a journal but he illustrates it. i dont know if capcom intended to#imply that ethan stops every now and then to jot down the horrors and the hour that the horrors occur my guess is prolly not#but now its there and it makes me laugh. i shouldnt laugh at his mental health journey but i am anyways#shoutout to people who journal i wish i was you but instead i draw a guy feelin my emotions for me#but im so happy the sun goess away at 5pm. truly immaculate. i miss snow. but we stay chillin#i made more dear diary doodles but these were my favs n they went well together#i changed the entry in the 2nd one though cause i thought it was funnier to me this way#i cut my hair too short again im not even sad about it anymore like whatever man#at least its out of my way. and my shower was SO fast i got to stand there 5ever and it was still only like 15 minutes#fantastic. there are so many joys in life. theres twice as many horrors but the joys are definitely there and they are definitely joyful#anyways thats the post stay warm n cozy out there gang
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9 / 266
#my art#jujutsu kaisen#jjk#yuji itadori#itadori yuuji#jjk spoilers#jjk manga spoilers#jjk 266#fanart#jjk fanart#itafushi#jujutsu kaisen fanart#used th itfs tag bc its implied and this is an itfs piece i said so#i dont think ive seen this parallel made yet??? but its ok if it has#i just had the idea hit at gross o clock last night when i ws alr exhausted n had 2 force myself to sleep instead of drawing it#i just . clutches chest . YUUJI#th char development the emotional maturity..#the willingness to put aside his gojo voice personal feelings in favour of giving megumi agency over his own life#rather than burden him with expectations the way every1 has done fr both of them over the course of the series...#tears in my eyes thats my mc!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!#anyway art notes i think lower one is some of the best yuuji hair ive drawn 2 date#it's kind of similar to one of my 265 redraws but i think i struck a better balance in how thoroughly i rendered it here#proud of my me but also SO grateful tht yuuji has not been fighting me lately#so much yuuji content these past chapters i cant imagine th frustration having to Also fight him in order 2 create content fr them#anyway itafushi kaisen is real and canon and alive and yuuji singlehandedly discovered th cure 2 my mental illness w this line
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I wish we could have met in some other way.
Lawlight Week Day 2: Soulmates
If you saw me repost and re-edit this several times uh No you didn't </3
Still frames/Individual gifs:
If you know what every frame is from you get a free cookie. by the way
#death note#dn#light yagami#l lawliet#lawlight#oh god here we go#death note jdrama#death note 2015#death note 2006#death note musical#lctw#l change the world#dntm#lawlightweek2024#my art#collapses i am NEVER putting this much effort in one piece ever again /hj this was the Only one i had mostly prepared in advance#ironically the most painstaking part about making this entire thing was converting the images into an animated file#that wasn't either horrifically compressed or just. wouldn't loop. why do gifs have to look so BAD it's so inconvenient#and THEN i realized I had to forcibly Stitch the two animations together so they would actually be synced and it wouldn't look dumb#and the end result is STILL so compressed. because Tumblr. uhhh just don't click on it it'll look so scuffed LOL. anyways#this is what i get for watching Every Adaptation of Death Note. i am a death note multiverse truther#usually i'd have something clever to say in the tags but. this drained the life out of me just uh.#yeah. they're doomed in every universe. this is the only way they could've met. they are doomed by their own natures and the#circumstances that surround them. there is no universe where light tries to prevent L's death. and even in the cases where L Doesn't die#there is no universe where L can save light. there is no universe where he can truly “catch” Kira and make him see where he went wrong#(<- if you read LCTW you know. :) )#in every universe and adaptation L will call Light his first friend. in some universes they'll take that notion more seriously than others#no matter what one of them will die due to the other. its the only constant. it's the only way it can ever be. they are the others downfall
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need to exist in your warmth (id in alt)
#vashwood#vash the stampede#nicholas d wolfwood#trigun#trigun maximum#blood tw#ruporas art#love u when i get to cuddle u and love u when i get to feel ur blood soak into my hands#being this close to one another means the eternal suffering of trying to separate love and mission. love for one and love for humanity#i like to think of pre-vol8 vash as someone who struggles with his feelings for ww bc as equal and as trusted he is -#vash knows his responsibilities and he knows/expects ww wouldn't let him stray from it either. for that he can't take to any romantic incli#and i think itd make him view ww in a stricter non-personal way... If that makes ANY sense.#for ww - take someone who youv gotten close to and ended up liking more than you expected#someone who has a belief and follows it stubbornly - someone who'll get into more fights and trouble more than youv had your entire life#ww thinks of him as a monster but he knows theres a limit he himself can take - i feel like hes considered what might be the limit for vash#for Safety measures. just in case. yknow. whenever he himself might have to load the bullet < him hyping himself up as if he could do it#my point being that the thought of vash being dead crosses his mind more than he'd like. i think its a simultaneous dread drop in his stoma#for failure of the mission - but also an Ok? They can be killed? and also a disastrous gunning of his own heart. considering how much they#both live in their own heads some days are Just the worst ever for them in each others company. but also they lov each other :[ sooo much
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