#let's ease up

[montereybayaquarium]

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[applestorms]

L can be such a possessive character at times. he always strikes me as the type of person who is deeply aware of everything that he owns, both in a more literal sense and metaphorically-- like, he knows what money he has and how to use it, what resources are readily available to him and what he has to be sneakier to utilize, the habits and tendencies and emotional states of individuals and world governments both. the DN musical really puts an emphasis on the more computer-y aspects of how his brain functions, which isn't as obvious in the manga/anime but i think still works well as a way to follow his thinking. it's kinda what near does too: everything is a factor to them, every tiny detail a new opening to optimize for the best results, every person and location and object a part of a puzzle waiting to be solved. and as a part of that, L is deeply aware of every and any little thing he may or may not have control over, and exactly to what degree.

his habit of stealing titles as depicted in the LABB murders novel is such a good example of this. ryuzaki, eraldo coil, deneuve. he eats people alive and then takes their names for himself like some kind of fucked up fae or trickster god, creating new masks and personas to hide behind from the remains of the people he's devoured. i have to wonder if he would've used the title of KIRA for himself had he won-- i can hardly imagine what kind of power such a title could hold if held in his hands. of course, he could've just used the defeat of KIRA as a way to build up the L title even further, offering up the body of a dead god like perseus showing off the head of medusa. but L is so emotionally attached to the kira case, i struggle to see him allowing it to fade from existence so thoroughly as near does, even if it is only kept close on a private level...

this is part of why i think it genuinely makes a lot of sense that L's ultimate win state would include capturing light to some degree. even if the memory of KIRA somehow manages to fully disappear from the public consciousness, there is no fucking way L is letting light yagami out of his grasp. honestly, the moment that L truly loses this game is not when he starts investigating misa while still under rem's watch, not when light gets back his memories, not even when he dies, but the moment when he allows light to be freed from the handcuffs. the moment when he allows the other members of the task force to turn off the cameras and keep him from watching light and misa talk in the lobby. the moment when he gives up, lets light yagami go outside of L's personal sphere of control, is the moment when L starts the clock ticking down to the end of his own life.

this is one of the key ways in which i see light as a true equal and parallel to L, as after L's death he, intentionally or no, continues the same tradition and takes L's title for himself, twisting the two sides together into the L-KIRA amalgamation. only, the L title functions a little bit differently than every other persona or title that we see in the series-- because L's true name is L. that's all that he is. on a literal, legal, and emotional level, i don't think that L is anything more than L. he is the world's greatest detective, he's an incredible, weirdo super genius, but he does not afford himself much more than that, barely allows himself personhood or humanity outside of his work. light was the one to ultimately defeat L because he did not just put a stain on his character (as BB attempted), did not just kill him, but stole his very identity and took it for himself.

one of the biggest contradictions of L's character that i think you must accept should you attempt to portray him accurately is that he is both deeply detached from humanity while also having all of his work and effort and life be focused around saving it. it's one of the ways in which he is an exact opposite to light-- where light relies on humanity for external validation, to be Seen, while also looking down on it as dumb and immoral and spineless, L is so separated from it that he barely exists as a person, all the while dedicating almost every action he takes to helping it. remember: for all the emotional turmoil that wammy's house and the legacy of L may put on the kids living there, ultimately it's entire existence is nothing more than L's logical solution to his potential demise. if he dies, the world goes down with him, all of the cases that are yet to happen and he is yet to solve being left in the air. he has the foresight to set up a fail safe, but not to consider the emotional implications of what being that fail safe might feel like, how high the price of your own humanity is if you are not already alienated from it, the inability to have your own name on your gravestone-- though perhaps some of the blame also falls on watari's shoulders in this case, philanthropic old bastard that he is.

imo, playing his game really got it right in presenting L and light as one and the same, synonyms on either side of the mirror. in every action they take they are both so selfishly selfless, playing the game for themselves and their own pleasure but plastering the needs and will of humanity on top of it. L isn't invested in saving humanity for the sake of humanity-- he just likes the thrill of having the stakes raised so high. hard to shit on ryuk for wanting entertainment when the humans he finds are just the same as him.

[spacedlexi]

maybe if i just put these screenshots together youll understand why i think their relationship just Works so well as it pertains to the characters and themes of S4 in general

neither of them know what theyre doing, but theyre figuring it out Together. the old ways are dead. and together theyll build a new future thats worth fighting for

[haunted-xander]

So. Fatebreaker, right? Ryne's biggest fears made manifest, daddy issues personified, yes?

He's an amalgamation of Thancred and Ran'jit, his face, his voice and his weapon is Thancred's, but his body, his fighting style and his words are Ran'jit's.

Throughout the fight Fatebreaker constantly makes comments about how only he can protect Ryne, only he can provide for her, only he has even the right to so much as stand beside her, to be in her general presence. He's possessive and obsessive, repeatedly asserting that she is HIS and his only. Which is exactly what Ran'jit says basically every time we encounter him.

But this time it's in Thancred's voice. This time it's with the voice and face of a man she actually cares about.

Ryne isn't scared of Thancred, she never has been. Even when she first met him she was barely even nervous (as clearly shown in Thancred's short story). There's a lot of different feelings happening between those two, but fear has never been one of them.

But now, after things have gotten so much better, she is scared of Thancred becoming like Ran'jit. Because if Thancred was just a little further gone, if he was just a little less compassionate, he would've. It wouldn't be hard for him to go down the same path as Ran'jit did, to be incapable of letting go of the ghost of that girl he loved so so much to the point he'd stubbornly grip anything close to her he could. He didn't, but the fact he could've is terrifying.

It makes his final words, words that are Thancred's, so very important. This is her deepest fears made manifest, but he still says he wants her to be happy. Her happiness not only matters, but is important to him.

[schmweed]

[theminecraftbee]

hermit horror week day 1: season 8 or game mechanics

His teeth still taste like blood.

He's locked inside the belly of the Octagon. He doesn't know when he got there, but whoever wrestled him into it was smarter than Ren. They realized the full moon's light didn't reach the wiring. They realized it would give him time to down wolfsbane and silver nitrate. It also gave him time to throw it all up in the corner. If Doc were here, he'd be scolding Ren on the fact that silver nitrate is still a toxin and a disinfectant, and he should still be taking it in small doses, no matter how badly he wants to poison the wolf.

He curls up, shuddering, against the wires and pipes that power the shop. He feels thin and gaunt. He hopes he has not had much to eat. He doesn't have a phone or communicator on him. He doesn't know the day. It doesn't matter what the day is. The moon's visible during the daytime, too. It may have only been a night. It may have been weeks. It's probably at least been days.

He throws up again, because wolfsbane is poisonous too.

Most things that can keep a wolf down are poisonous. Ren doesn't have to take them often. He's normally... controlled. A tamed wolf on the full moon. He has a pack to run with. He doesn't need to poison himself to keep the wolf at bay. He doesn't need to take silver nitrate like it's a medicine and not a reagent.

But none of this is making his teeth stop tasting like blood. His shirt is covered in it, too. His legs. His face, he thinks--he can't see his reflection in here. He wouldn't know. But it would have to be. There's so much blood on him.

He doesn't have a scratch on him.

The only thing that stops him, then, from taking more silver nitrate is that if he respawns from the poison damage, he'll respawn out under the moon. He'll respawn back out there. And then--

He shudders. He folds himself into a tighter ball against the belly of the Octagon. In a shaking voice, he cries out for Doc again. Doc has to be nearby. Doc has to be nearby. Because if he isn't--

No one answers. Ren doesn't know who locked him in here. He wonders if it was a struggle.

He's covered in blood.

It smells horribly good. Ren feels dizzy. He's gaunt. He's so hungry. He'll hold that to his chest. He's hungry and sick, not simply sick. If he weren't hungry--if he weren't hungry--

But he's not as hungry as he should be, if it's been days, and he's covered in blood, and he resists the urge to howl, a long, mournful thing. He doesn't want to howl, or bark, or anything else right now.

Instead he cries, a human thing, and holds onto it tightly while he waits for the pain in his stomach and the shudders over his skin and the grey stains where he'd grabbed the bottle and the vomiting to end, so he can take another dose, and force the wolf further down. Down enough to be safe.

Down enough that he didn't maul his friends to death.

Down enough that he can know if he did.

Down enough that he won't try to leave again, as he knows he will, as the moon shines outside, and as soon as someone tries to open the door to rescue him, letting that light back in.

[uhbasicallyjustmilex]

the end of 505: 2007 vs 2023

[rcmclachlan]

what if i put my life in your hands? what if i took your life in mine?

[another-clive-blog]

Found this audio and it fitted just too well (except the marriage part ahah), so I just had to try and do something with it. Clive fandom I will never truly leave you even if I suck at social media <3

[pianokantzart]

Fun fact: The leaves Luigi coughs up in my comic were originally going to be bloody in the first draft

[sort-of-a-hero-that-way]

Dennis shielding Dee whether it's physical harm or a verbal confrontation. And thinking about ada's tag alongside the gifs

They're both of equal threat to him...

[visions--of--collisions]

for @its-just-a-glitch who requested 200 words of an active work-in-progress, here is an uh er um slightly longer than 200 words-preview of:

EXCERPT: let me ease your mind (chapter 3) • hobie/miles, post-canon, omegaverse; rated: e

Hobie’s bladder woke him a couple hours later, albeit not as many as he would’ve liked, if the darkness was anything to go by. He grunted and dragged his cheek against the pillow under his head.

Miles was warm in his arms, muscles twitching in his sleep. He’d backed up against Hobie at some point in the night, and Hobie had performed some kind of death roll to accommodate him, apparently; the blankets were a tight cocoon that would’ve been cozy as anything if Hobie weren’t worried about pissing himself. He eased his arm out from underneath Miles and wormed his way up into a half-sit. Hobie propped his weight on his elbow as a yawn seized him, squeezing tears out of his eyes. He wiped them away with his knuckles and leaned over to peer at Miles’ face.

His eyes were darting about under his eyelids as he dreamt, but his brow was relaxed enough. A sheen of that weirdly clean-smelling heat sweat limned Miles’ shoulders; he’d lost his shirt again, which wasn’t all that surprising. He wasn’t quite a furnace under Hobie, as he gingerly crawled over Miles, but that was probably because Hobie ran fairly hot himself. However many hours spent cozying up under bedsheets had to have warmed them both up, besides. 

He peered over at his alarm clock, which had just ticked past four. Hobie sighed and laid his brow on Miles’s shoulder. Five hours and change would do it, alright. A shame it hadn’t been more than that. He reminded himself it could be, if he extricated himself sooner, but when Hobie shifted to do just that a hand fisted in his shirt. Miles turned his head, ribs quaking with a noise that was part-grumble, part-keen, all-protest.

“M’here, Miles, shhh. You’re alright.” Hobie buried his face in the curve where Miles’ neck became his shoulder. The tendons beneath his skin stretched and strained against him as Miles raised his chin to expose them. He pried Miles’ hand free and tangled their fingers together, holding them against his chest to feel the vibrations as he purred. “Need the lav; go to sleep, yeah? Be back in a sec.”

He spent a long minute nosing at the pulse thrumming under Miles’ jaw before he squeezed Hobie’s hand and relaxed against the mattress. Hobie felt his sleepy, reciprocal purr more than he heard it; he bussed Miles’ temple and clambered out from underneath the covers, tucking them over Miles’ hand before he crept out of the room.

It was dark enough that even the thought of turning on the bathroom light made Hobie’s eyes sting. He flicked on the galley light instead, and left the bathroom door open wide enough that he could see where he was aiming. After he’d flushed and washed his hands, Hobie shuffled back into the kitchen with his eyes mostly-closed to wet his suddenly-parched throat. As he was leaving his glass in the sink, the empty cooking pot on the draining board snagged his attention. Hobie thought for a minute, squinting in the direction of the fridge. He dug out some chicken breasts and half a pound of sausages and left them to defrost before he turned off the light and retreated back to bed.

The change in Miles’ scent was obvious, with the bedroom door shut behind him. Hobie crawled back into the nest as quietly as he could. Miles was turned away from him, hugging one of the spare pillows to his chest, but he wasn’t sleeping deep enough that he didn’t notice Hobie’s arrival. He’d barely settled his head on the pillow before Miles had backed up into him, his shoulder blades two hard, sharp points through Hobie’s thin shirt.

“Oof! Easy,” Hobie entreated, the surprised laughter huffing out of him. Miles’ only response was to continue shuffling until their lower halves were aligned to his satisfaction, and then to keep right on going. Hobie took the hint and got his arms around him, squeezing tight enough it made them both grunt. Miles writhed like he was trying to get free before he went lax, purring deep in his throat. His eyes were pleased slits in the darkness, when he rolled his head back.

Hobie could feel him rocking against the pillow he was still clutching at. The high, quiet noise Miles made when he tightened his arms left Hobie swallowing through a sudden thickness in his throat. He groaned under his breath and wet his lips. “Miles. Oi,” he mumbled. Hobie squeezed him again all when he got in response was a vague murmur and a brazen non-cessation of pillow-fucking. He bent his head to speak into Miles’ ear. “D’you need a minute? Where’s your stuff?”

The purring stopped. “I’m …” Miles croaked. “S’under the bed.” The almost-sweetness of the sweat on his temple didn’t quite distract Hobie from the way his hips kept moving. He was tempted to nudge a thigh between Miles’ legs. Instead, he pushed himself up and twisted around to grope about among the peripherals.

The leather satchel was lying on its side behind a discarded shirt; Hobie found the handles and dragged it out. He hefted it up onto the bed and turned to find Miles lying on his front, the pillow trapped underneath him. He turned his face away when Hobie met his eyes. “Man … You just got back in bed.”

Hobie reached over to rub his back. “Allow that. Couch is already set up and all; I’ll be cotched.” There was a damp spot starting on the back of Miles’ shorts, visible even in the gloom. He pulled the blankets up over it, arranging them around Miles’ shoulders. “Wake us when you’re done. If you ain’t out like a light after,” Hobie added, nudging him.

Miles didn’t answer right away. He’d stopped moving, finally; his face was buried in Hobie’s sateen pillowcase. If he didn’t know Miles better than that, he might’ve thought he was sulking. Hobie sighed through his nose. “I can’t stay if we ain’t talked it out first, mate,” he said, quietly.

Miles turned his head, settling his cheek against the pillow. His face was flushed, the corners of his mouth down-turned. “I know,” he mumbled. “Sorr–”

“Boy, if you say sorry …!” Hobie shoved his shoulder lightly, jokingly mean-mugging at him from a few inches away. Miles swallowed, noisily. Hobie kneaded his back again. “Ask me later,” he offered.

Miles looked at him with dark eyes. “What’ll you do?” he murmured. When Hobie just stared at him, he added, “If I say ‘sorry.’ What are you gonna do?”

“I …!” The surprise and delight winded him for a second, filling up his throat. Unable to speak, Hobie pressed his teeth into Miles’ shoulder, blankets and all. The purring had started up again; a thin vibration he could feel right through the layers. Hobie shoved himself off the bed, feeling a bit like a fish that had managed to escape its hook. “I am gonna leave this room like I said I would!” he declared. He fished a piece of blanket fuzz out of his mouth as discreetly as he could. Hobie glanced at the empty space next to his alarm clock and hesitated. “D’you need water?”

“I don’t need water,” Miles hummed. The blankets shifted as he moved underneath them.

“Okay, alright,” Hobie scoffed, playing at disapproving while something not far removed from glee filled his lungs like smoke. He snatched his patched dressing gown out of the nest and reached down to scruff the back of Miles’ neck. “There's fresh batteries in the inside pocket. Be good,” Hobie said, and walked out before Miles’ breath could even.

[TO BE CONTINUED]

[blushpetalbaby]

adding “for me” to simple requests is so ✨ “pull your hair back for me, baby” “can you open your mouth all the way up for me?” “do you think you can take it all for me?” “just like that, just lay there for me, okay?” HELLO?????? now i’m you’re very special helper entrusted with completing an important task and yes i CAN do that and actually i will now do the BEST most enthusiastic job because i’m doing it *for you*

[bacchuschucklefuck]

the nsbu table is five DM pets and rekha shankar

[respectthepetty]

Thoughts on this?

The brothers in blue with Cher and Dee in purple 👀

You want my thoughts on this image with the purple and blue hearts and the purple and blue clothes when the YELLOW IS RIGHT THERE in front of them?

Well, I have no thoughts because that was the last of my sanity leaving my body. It'll take too much effort to lie down properly, so I'm just going to crumble to the ground right where I'm standing and give my body back to nature.

[jaesama]

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