#ooc// 😔

[wombywoo]

cleaned up

[bubblin-trouble]

Oh my god

Tell me you see it.

Taglist : @nrc-asteryn-crew @night-raven-miscellany @nrc-ramshackle-prefect @floyd-leech-thing @knightcoree

[fluttershyes]

random sketchies from febuary

[fckbatmanhiskidsareminenow]

What’s for Breakfast?

(yes it’s the parsnip fic)

(tw mentioned nightmares and mildly dissociation)

disclaimer: this will probably be ooc, i’m still extremely new to the fandom so be nice please

description: jason decides to cook and is interrupted by the rest of the bat siblings.

word count: 1556

All he came here to do was drop off some intel for Bruce but now? Now Jason is standing in the middle of the Wayne manor kitchen, with his hands on his hips, wondering what he should cook. He’s hungry, alright, sue him.

It’s Sunday and Sunday is the day Alfred restocks the kitchen so the chances of Jason actually finding something other than premade pancake mix was not great.

The first ingredient item he finds is a few parsnips. He passes one between his hands trying to think of what he can make with them. After a few seconds he comes up with something, tossing the parsnips onto the counter and he collects some onions, a leek, flour, eggs and vegetable oil. He gets the grater out and it’s decided. He’s gonna make parsnip and onion fritters.

Jason starts with slicing the onion. Just get that shit over and done with. The familiar burn of the onion begins in his eyes and he is immediately reminded of the last time he cooked in here. He was 15, it was a few weeks before his death. He and Alfred were making home made burgers, requested by Jason himself, and they made caramelised onions to go with it.

He’s pulled out of the memory by the wet feeling of tears dripping down onto his hand. He glares down at the vegetable as if it had personally wronged him. And you know what? It did. He’s crying all because of a fucking onion.

He continues slicing only slightly more aggressively when he hears a soft patter of feet.

“Todd?” At the sound of his name he looks up and is met with a sleepy Damian staring back. The kid’s got on a set of cat pyjamas, that Jason can admit is kinda cute, and is wiping away what looks to be tears. Must have had a nightmare or something.

“Cooking.” Jason replied gruffly. Damian approaches the island he’s cooking on and stands on his toes to try and see what Jason is cooking. Once again he can admit the kid looked kinda cute with only just his head and little hands poking over the bench.

“Cooking what?” He asks softly and with genuine childlike curiosity, which is rare for Damian. Jason breathes out a sigh and walks over to the small table on the far side of the kitchen and pulls a chair up against the bench.

“Parsnip and onion fritters. Wash your hands and come grate the parsnips for me.” He usually would tell him to fuck off but the kid looks like he could use a distraction and he does love a mission.

Damian washes his hands, climbs up the chair and starts grating.

They slice and grate mostly in quiet, only breaking the silence to quietly giggle at each other's onion induced tears.

“Cooking?” The sound of a voice startles them both so badly Damian almost throws a parsnip and Jason damn near cuts his finger off. When they look up at the source, Cass is standing there with an eyebrow raised.

“Christ, Cassandra, you could have killed us.” Damian says as he lowers the parsnip. Jason huffs out a laugh.

“Again.” He mutters and doesn’t miss the nasty look Damian throws him. Cass only smirks and shrugs. She looks dishevelled but Jason chooses to ignore it. She wanders over to the island, inspects what they’re doing before sitting on one of the stools and pulling her phone out of her pocket. Jason and Damian share a look before continuing what they were doing.

They finally get through all the slicing and grating when Steph and Tim stumble in looking like they had not slept all week. Jason stops what he’s doing just to look at them judgingly.

“Where the fuck have you two been?” he asks like he doesn’t want to know. Steph groans and collapses into the stool next to Cass.

“We were out all night for a stake out that turned up nothing.” Jason makes a confused face at that and looks to Tim who is all but dragging himself to the coffee machine.

“I don’t even want to talk about it.” He says holding a hand up to block out Jason’s judgmental look. Stake outs like that happen, not often but they happen. But for Tim? It’s even less often, he gathers all the intel he can before going out. Make sense for his mood to be shit.

Jason can practically sense Damian is about to say something so he scoops him up by the armpits and places him onto the ground.

“Your jobs done now.” He tells him before the kid can protest. He only receives a slightly grumpy nod before Damian drags the chair back to its regular spot and sits down. Tim looks away from the coffee machine.

“Are you making breakfast?” He asks half judgy half genuine. Jason almost responds with some snarky sarcasm but just looking at Tim tells him the poor guy's exhausted brain would probably melt if he did.

“Yeah I am. Parsnip and onion fritters.”

Steph lifts her head from where it was laying against the kitchen island.

“What the fuck is a parsnip?” Jason chuckles and holds up one of the unused parsnips.

“It's like a white carrot thing. They taste good, trust me.” Steph eyes it suspiciously before shrugging and laying her head back down.

Duke runs in while Jason is mixing in the flour and eggs. He stops and looks at everyone surprised. To Duke’s credit it is rare for all of them to be in the same room for a non vigilante related reason. He looks at Jason and into the bowl.

“Hey, that looks great! I’m heading out to patrol but save me some for when I get back?” He says as he grabs an apple and speeds out of the kitchen without waiting for an answer. Jason files the information to save some away in his head before he continues mixing. He makes sure everything is evenly coated before heating up a pan and drizzling some vegetable oil onto it. He places as many scoops as he can evenly spread on the pan and waits until he can flip them.

The sizzly of the fritters and the oil almost covers up the sound of a new pair of feet entering the kitchen.

“Whatchya making, Jaybird?” This time he doesn’t jump at the sound of Dick’s voice coming from directly over his shoulder. Just by looking at Dick’s eyes tells Jason the eldest is floating in between a dissociation episode. He’s not really all there.

Jesus Christ, was he the only one who had a good night? Well, he doesn’t really know how Duke’s night went but with the way he was rushing to get on patrol, if Jason had to guess it would be probably not good.

“Parsnip and Onion fritters.” He replies while scanning the kitchen for what task he can give Dick to help him out.

“Hey, could you do the dishes for me? I wouldn’t want Alfred to wake up and find the kitchen a mess.” He asks softly. Jason doesn’t mention that Alfred is already up and upon seeing all of them in the kitchen, about ten minutes ago, gave Jason a soft smile and left to do whatever Alfred does when he’s not butlering.

Dick turns to where Jason points to the dishes and nods.

“Oh yeah, of course.” He says spacely. Jason fights the urge to fist pump. If he’s learnt anything it's if you wanna get Dick Grayson to help himself, you gotta guilt trip him a little bit. He does take the knife before Dick can add it to his washing pile. Yeah he’s got some less than moral helping tactics but he’s not gonna let the guy hurt himself.

Damian gets up to help Dick with the dishes and they make quiet conversation. With Damian occasionally yelling when Dick splashes him or tries to place bubbles on his head.

Jason hands the empty bowl to Dick before placing the last of the fritters onto one big plate. He quickly whips up a greek yogurt and herb dip sauce. He grabs out enough plates for everyone and places two on a plate for Duke before wrapping it with foil and placing them in the fridge. He then hands the remaining stack of plates to Dick.

“Alright losers follow if you want breakfast.” He calls out before heading into the proper dining room. Dick sets the table before taking one for himself.

Jason will never tell anyone but he did feel nervous waiting for everyone’s reaction.

“Wait, why is this good?”

“I can’t tell if these are good or if I’m just really fucking hungry.”

“These are really good Jaybird.”

He tried to hide the way the tension fell from his shoulders before digging into his own food. The atmosphere was good and it made Jason kinda miss moments like this. This sense of family and belonging. Just a family having breakfast together.

“Is there any left for me?” Bruce asks as he walks in. Jason looks up at him. He’s met with a proud look he hasn’t seen in what feels like a lifetime. He hides his face and gestures to an empty chair.

“Take a seat, old man.”

I hope the fic is a good as you guys imagined 🥰

here’s a special thanks to @kaycynyrs for sending in the ask that inspired me to look at this fic again and @yourlocal-edgelord for encouraging me to rewrite it and to @heavenssolitude for being there and supporting me 🥰

(i’ll totally untag you guys if you didn’t wanna be tagged. just wanted to say thanks)

[nmakii]

Cuteness with Yan! Alastor... Imagine Alastor drinking too much and getting drunk with the reader (the reader hates Alastor, because he is always irritating you)... Well, what no one expected is that Alastor was drunk and drunk reader with these are being cute with each other, as if they were a couple (something they are not).. Well now reader is in her bed with drunk alastor by her side, while reader caresses his ears (it wasn't because a drunk Alastor threatened the reader not to leave him and that she had to cuddle him).. Imagine the two of them waking up the next day in each other's arms, it would be funny

WHISKEY ON ICE, SUNSET AND VINE

— alastor sucks. he sucks even more when he’s drunk cause he acts so weird.

— i drank likeee 6 shots n a beer tday! i wanted more but my friends cut me off thats sucks fam i also kinda puked a bit after i swam

after the battle against heaven, lucifer helped make the hotel much more grander than it ever was; magnificent rooms, beautiful decor— it was like a heaven in hell.

and to celebrate the rebuilding, what better than a few drinks?

as you uncapped another beer, alastor caught your eye— swishing the whiskey in his glass as he talks with niffty. that remaining smile on his face as annoying as ever.

taking a huge chug of your beer, the sour taste lingering on your breath as you glare at him. quite obviously, to add.

“my dear, is something the matter..?” alastor asked, smile seeming strained from his confusion. “shut up, bitch” you huffed and walked away, sitting onto the sofa with angel, leaning your head on his shoulder.

“what’s wrong, toots? ‘ya had too much already? party’s just started like 25 minutes ago…” angel laughed. “noooo… ‘m just a little sleepyyyy…” you whined, gagging slightly at the vomit that threatens to come out.

you take another sip of your beer, settling onto angel’s shoulder properly before your eyes slowly shut.

angel had let you rest for the majority of the party. that is until cherri dared him into doing something for money, something he couldn’t resist.

“yo, smiles! sit in my spot for a bit, will ‘ya?” angel called out to alastor; quite intoxicated already, but not quite showing it. “hmm..? alright then” alastor nodded, taking angel’s spot.

as soon as alastor sat down, you clung back onto him, as if you thought alastor was angel. a little hiccup came from you as you settled your head in his chest.

alastor— taking the opportunity to be close with you, since you had a particular distaste for him, decided to bring you in closer. he had wrapped an arm around you, pulling you onto his lap, close enough to rest his head on your’s.

“‘m sleepy… you… smell super nice” you sighed, bringing some of alastor’s coat closer to your face, breathing in the scent. “mmh… why, thank you, my dear…” he grinned, the static in his voice making his thanks sound disingenuous. “come now, let’s get you to bed.” he laughed as he carried you to your room.

as alastor dropped you on the bed, he fell down with you. “go nowww… small bed, y’know?” you pushed alastor away, settling into your bed. alastor was, unfortunately though, stronger than you. he was able to keep still despite your pushing. “don’t act like that, dear. just sleep on top of me, we’ll fit.” he said, pulling you onto his chest and laying a hand on your head.

as you dozed off again, your hands reached to touch alastor’s fuzzy ears. under your touch, alastor hummed, quite comforted by your warm palm.

you yawned out, covering your mouth as the scent of alcohol reeks from you. alastor laughed at how adorable you seem as he pats your back. “go to bed already. i’m quite sure we— or at least you’ll be hungover tomorrow.”

unbeknownst to the two of you, charlie and angel had gone searching for the two of you. “ahh, where could those two have gone..? and more importantly— how did no one see them leave?!” charlie frowned as she checked the rooms in the hotel.

“calm down, charlie… alastor’s an overlord, rememba’? he could totally protect s/o. there’s really no need to worry…” angel told charlie, comforting her.

“oh, they’re in here!” charlie yelled out as she opened the door to your room. “aww… they’re cuddling! so cute…” charlie cooed at the sight. “ahh, sure…” angel hesitantly agreed.

“c’mon, let’s leave them alone. wouldn’t wanna wake them up…” charlie beckons angel to leave as she quietly closes the door, leaving to return to the party. “tch, can’t wait to see if someone’s getting murdered tomorrow…” angel sarcastically mumbled to himself.

the next morning, you woke up. curtains still closed the way you left it when you settled in, and one pounding headache.

your head reeled as your vision blurred, losing your sense of balance as you rolled off alastor’s chest. wait— alastor’s chest..?

you slapped him awake as you yelled at him. “what the fuck are you doing in my bed?!” you scowled. “hm? ah… i believe we were both drunk, nothing happened, i’m quite sure.” alastor assured you.

“i’m not worried about that, fucker! why the fuck were you being all cuddly?!” you frowned, pushing him out the room. “my dear, i believe it was you who kept touching my ears.” he smugly reminded you. “urgh, get. OUT!” you enunciated as you slammed your door shut.

“alastor!” charlie waved her hand out as she ran towards him. “sooo, i saw you and s/o last nightttt… did you two figure out your differences and become friends now??” charlie asked excitedly. “ah, unfortunately not, dear.” alastor’s eyebrows furrowing with annoyance.

[spideyhexx]

soft coryo coming home after a long day and just hugging you tightly for a good few minutes, not saying anything but just holding you close to him. and after a few minutes, he just gives you the softest kiss and then a “i missed you so much,” in the sweetest and softest voice ever.

this makes me think about our modern law student coryo :(

who had a late class that ended up going a little later because he needed to talk to the professor and the professor already ran the class later, so he’s not in a good mood at all, and he feels bad for being later for your sake!

Because he knows you like the whole bedtime routine the two of you have and sometimes it gets messed up cause of his work/classes. When he gets to your apartment, you’re making yourself like tea or maybe a small snack and you go to acknowledge him but he just hugs you from behind immediately, making sure your body is snug to his, and he’s quiet.

You know him enough to know what’s going on, so you quietly continuing making your tea/sipping it whatever you’re doing in the kitchen while he holds you tightly. Eventually, he kisses right behind your ear, whispering, “missed you so much today,” then he nudges hide nose in your ear, trailing more soft kisses to your cheek, hugging you tighter.

sharing your little snack with him because he had a small dinner :( and Coryo, even though he’s tired and just annoyed with his day, he still makes the effort to care for you as much as you’re doing for him.

[shalomniscient]

hello! can i request some ruan mei filth with sub reader 🤭🤭

ask and ye shall recieve 🫡🫡 sorry this took a while, i'm personally used to imagining ruan mei as a power bottom, so writing her as a dom took a little longer to cook LOL

good god, let me give you my life || ruan mei x reader [NSFT][MDNI]

cw. vibrators, fingering, praise, mild bondage

notes. sev try not to name fics after take me to church lyrics challenge (impossible) also sorry again anon this turned more introspective than my filth normally gets.....................

On a lonely planet at the edge of the universe, Ruan Mei gazes down on you like a goddess. Your hands are bound above your head, clasped together as if in prayer as pleasure creeps like vines up and down your body. This bed is the altar, you the sacrifice. You wouldn't have it any other way, especially when Ruan Mei ups the intensity of the vibrator between your legs, causing you to arch your back with a breathless gasp.

"Sweet thing," she murmurs, her voice drifting like leaves in the wind, "look at you."

Her finger trails up and along the left side of your body, from the bone of your hip, higher and higher until she reaches the curve of your breast. Her hand lingers there for a moment, warm against your left rib, before she cups your breast, swiping a thumb over your stiff bud. You whine at her touch, trying to chase the sensation, squirming against your bindings.

"Please," you whisper. "Please, please, I need you—"

Ruan Mei coos gently at your begging, her other hand coming to brush the hair out of your eyes. When you look up at her, desperate, with those lovely, teary, pleading eyes, how could she ever deny you?

You cry out her name as her hand slips lower and she pushes the buzzing toy just a little deeper into your slick cunt. It nudges against that spot inside you, and your thighs snap shut around her hand as explosions burst behind your eyelids, a big bang breathed to life by a loving god. Ruan Mei's gentle praises are echoing, distant as you float on that cosmic high.

When you finally come back down, Ruan Mei has shut off the toy and tenderly withdraws it from your sensitive cunt. It comes away with a wet, slick noise and you shiver at the sensation, your leg kicking out reflexively at the overstimulation. Ruan Mei squeezes your thigh in consolation, then lies down next to you, undoing the bindings on your wrists.

"Are you alright?" she asks softly, and you nod, your tongue feeling too heavy to form words. Instead you nuzzle close to her, your arms winding around her waist as your breath begins to even out again.

It’s moments like these, the quiet afterglow, that Ruan Mei wonders why you’re here—with her, at the edge of the universe. It is not an insecurity; no, Ruan Mei does not doubt that you love her. She does not need to test for that. She knows it, innately, intrinsically. But it is a sort of… morbid curiousity, in a sense.

One day, she will leave you—become something beyond comprehension, beyond your reach. Possibly, she’d forget you entirely. There’s always been a countdown on this love, and you know it.

So, why? Why stay, when it would be better, easier, safer, to leave?

It’s your voice that draws her out of her swirling thoughts. Your cup her cheek, affection bleeding through the smile you offer her.

“I can hear you thinking,” you murmur. “What’s on your mind?”

She contemplates deflecting the question. But Ruan Mei is a scientist above all else, and she cannot bear unanswered questions. Uncertainties. So she takes a deep breath, and asks, “why do you stay?”

You consider her for a moment, then tilt your head curiously. “What do you mean?”

“Why do you stay?” Ruan Mei repeats. “You know what I desire to achieve. Once those desires reach fruition… there will be nothing left of us. Of this.”

“Won’t there?” you counter after a beat of silence, seeming almost amused. “All Aeons have their followers.”

“You would walk upon my Path?”

You laugh at that. “Well, I love you. So haven’t I already?”

Ruan Mei falls silent. In the end, what’s the difference between love and faith? How might the reception of devotion differ between a god and a man? Does it? Maybe this is the link between divine and mundane that she’s been searching for. Maybe part of the heavens she’s trying so hard to reach is simply lying next to you, in this bed, in this lab-turned-home at the edge of the universe.

For now, she files these thoughts away, and kisses you again. Her lips taste like plum pastries, sweet and inviting. She kisses you slowly, mapping the shape of your lips, comitting every dip and countour to her memory. She wants to weave you within her, embroider the image of you into the tapestry of her existence so that she won’t forget a single thing.

(A foolish notion. You already are.)

You moan into her mouth and she swallows it greedily, like a fledgling god hungry for faith. Her hand travels down your body again until her fingers find your pussy, still slick with your own cum. You whine as she drags her finger through your soaked folds, her thumb rubbing on your clit.

“A-Ruan,” you breathe out, and Ruan Mei trembles. You say her name like a prayer, like she’s already divine. Distantly she thinks, as she sinks two fingers into your tight, welcoming heat, that it’s the epithet she cherishes most, because it’s the one that names your love. You grip her shoulder and cry out as she works her fingers in and out of your cunt, oozing wetness like ambrosia. Your back arches as she curls her fingers just right against that spongy spot. She kisses your neck as she feels your muscles tense around her fingers.

“Let go for me,” she whispers against your skin like a commandmenf. “Let go, sweet thing.”

You cum with a wordless scream, your nails dragging down her smooth back. She slows the movements of her fingers as she helps you ride out the orgasm, slower and slower until she finally withdraws. Your eyes are shut and your breathing laboured from your second orgasm of the night, but you have never looked more beautiful to Ruan Mei.

“I love you,” she says quietly, pressing her forehead against yours. You offer her a smile like a sacrament, and for a moment she’s terrified that you’d ask her to stay—terrified that she’ll say yes. But you don’t, and instead your return those words to her, pure like revelation.

You will be the only thing she’ll regret leaving behind. But for now, while she has you here in her arms, she’ll cherish you more than anything else.

[lcs-scar]

bridge kids cast hugs [individual character under the cut]

[grimalkinmessor]

Just to put a lot of my posts and beliefs about Light Yagami's character in one post (headcanons not included):

• He does not do anything for purely moral reasons. The reason he started killing criminals was because he was curious, and then afterward his "crusade" was built from panic and spite. He thought using the Death Note was going to kill him, so he decided to take everyone he considered a threat to society down with him—that way he would still be good. He would still be remembered. If he can't live, then criminals don't deserve to either. The weight loss and the insomnia shown in the manga, were more likely results of a fear of dying than moral stress.

• Then Light discovers he won't die. This negates part of the spite, but not the need for a moral justification to keep himself "good". He no longer needs to be a martyr, so instead he's chosen to become a God.

• During this week and half of time, Light goes from being a bored, lonely, listless teenager disgusted with the world because it's not how his father taught him it should be, disgusted because if he can manage perfection why can't the rest of the world—to a boy with a new friend and a new mission that gives him purpose. Something interesting. If the world can't be perfect on its own, he'll have to help it. The world needs his help, making him its "savior".

• In comes L. It is no longer about Kira, no longer about saving the world from itself, even if he might tell himself it is—it's about the game. Kira was a fun pastime, yes, but L has made things so much more interesting. (Light and Ryuk are actually wildly similar in several ways it's just not immediately obvious). This game is more fun, too, because this time he has an opponent—one not so nebulous as "the criminals of the world", who offered no challenge. Light is still justifying his actions through a lens of morality, because he has to, but they're beginning to run rather thin.

• Both the broadcast and the obvious taunts to L through changing Kira's killing methods supports the above. "You're too stupid, L. If you were just a little smarter, we could've had some fun." Drawing L in was to progress their game, not Kira's goals. If Light truly only cared about Kira's vision, Kira's new world, Kira's righteous justice; then he wouldn't have continued to play the game after the broadcast. There was no way for L to find him without Light drawing him in—the Death Note is literally the perfect murder weapon. Light knew this, he just ignored it because he wanted to play.

• In the same vein: Yotsuba Light doesn't know he's playing the game. He's forgotten that there even is a game, and so he sees L as someone who's been duped, who either isn't as intelligent as he's been made out to seem, or someone who's being purposefully cruel just because he can. Either way, to Yotsuba Light, L's threat level has only increased, because Light no longer has any sort of weapon to go against him with. He can't even wield his own innocence against him, because his innocence is not certain. Even to himself. Yotsuba Light knows that he has to play along with L's plays of friendship and morality in order to secure his freedom, but he does not respect L or like him. At least, not until near the end, where they're closing in on Higuchi. Where his freedom seems closer....and yet he sees his own, true innocence as more tenuous than ever. Notably, even when Light feels positively towards L there, he still does not share his suspicions about himself with him. His own life still takes precedence over any sort of justice or morality he might have, because Yotsuba Light is still Light. And Light will always put his own self-interests first.

• After killing L, something interesting happens. Because the game ends, but Kira is still left. And Light was willing to take risks and make wild plans in his game with L, but Kira's goals always, always came after his own life. And when only Kira's goals are left, Light stops taking those big, potentially lethal risks. (i.e. bomb desk trap, killing Raye Penber in person by handing him pages of the Death Note, killing Naomi Misora in person right in front of the police station, writing Higuchi's name while sitting right beside L with the murder weapon literally in his hand, etc. etc.). Winning the game was worth dying for—Kira's ideals are not. Or, to put it even more simply: His pride is worth dying for, but his morals are not. Five years after his victory against L, he's presented with another game, but instead of feeling fearful and excited as he did with L, Light is angry. Arrogant and angry. Because this isn't a game to these opponents, as it was to L—they're playing against each other, and Light is merely a piece in it. This game is not like his game with L; it's more like his "game" with the criminals of the world. One with no true challenge, just another defense of Kira's world—worth winning, but not worth dying for.

• Light's pride is more important to him than anything. He needs to be able to take pride in himself and his actions. Pride comes before everything else, before Kira, before family, before L, even before his own desires and physical health. He does not enjoy killing—he just turned it into something he could be proud of. Into another mastering of craft. Light is not particularly sadistic, he's just spiteful. He'll only take pleasure in someone's suffering if they make someone else suffer first, especially if that someone is him. Attacking his pride would count as making him suffer, because that's the most important thing in the world to him. Even though Light also values his life incredibly highly, attempting to kill him wouldn't invoke as much hell-hot wrath as attempting to humiliate him would. And Light will always get even. Always. He does not forgive and forget.

• He believes every lie he tells himself. Every. Lie. He is a Good Man. He is Good Son. He is a Savior. He is Better. He is NOT Evil, he is Good. He's incredibly adept at not only fooling other people, but fooling himself. Even if he's vaguely aware of the truth, he'll take great pains to make sure that truth never comes to light—because it would crush him.

• Light does not take his own desires into account. If he likes or wants something that contradicts with the perfect image he's crafted, he purges it from his mind. Makes excuses for why he doesn't need it, or even convinces himself very thoroughly that he didn't even want it in the first place. If it's not something he can be proud of (or convince himself to be proud of), he doesn't allow himself to desire it.

• Light sees everyone as beneath him (family notwithstanding, Light loves his family deeply), and while it's a pyramid scale of how far beneath him they are, it's not actually ranked by things like gender, sexuality, race—it's ranked by morality and intelligence. The more intelligent and moral you are, the higher up you are on the scale. Light feeling hostile towards someone does not always mean he sees them as further down beneath him; with L and Misa specifically, it means that they're a threat. Light tends to only see people near the top of the intelligence pyramid as threats; evidenced by him dismissing Matsuda completely even with the knowledge that Matsuda was a marksmen, and yet him immediately setting out to kill Naomi when he found out she figured out one of Kira's secrets. With Takada and Mikami, he treats them exactly the same as each other because they're both on the same level of the scale—and he didn't hesitate to get rid of either of them. (Or try to get rid of, in Mikami's case). Everyone is either a tool, a threat, a criminal, a citizen, or family to him. People to use (tool, criminal), people to serve and/or placate (citizen, family), and people to eliminate (threat, criminal). Everyone falls into at least one of these categories for him.

• Light Yagami is a tragic character. And he's a tragic character because he refuses to believe he's part of a tragedy. He would rather swallow broken glass than be considered a victim of anything.

[kittydoremi]

Comfort 💙🖤

[mx-heartacoustic]

[askchilchuck]

guys come on he's not a Twink he's clearly an otter

I’m done indulging this. I don’t know what that means, and given the track history I don’t care. Knock it off, all of you!

[lvebug]

good morning! you should tell me about the first person your muse kissed

[diwns]

ᓚᘏᗢ⋆˚⭑.ᐟ˖°

[trashbins-stuff]

Revenge on @akalikestodraw <333

[pure-patissiere]

❉ ╤╤╤╤ 💦 ╤╤╤╤ ❉

♡ 𝑺𝒐 𝒔𝒐𝒂𝒌𝒆𝒅

𝑻𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒕 𝒊𝒔 𝒈𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒊𝒏' 𝒕𝒐 𝒎𝒆 ♡

❉ ╧╧╧╧ 💦 ╧╧╧╧ ❉