#reminds me of l lawliet

[blueparadis]

EGO JINPACHI IN BLUE LOCK EPISODE 24

[waffle-walks]

L is the reason why light is losing a single player game

Sequel to this post

[iknowwhereyousleepatnight]

he’s THE guy ever

[artiemouse]

ryuk is the best death note character. he’s this terrifying giant demon dude that floats around cross-eyed adding the most useless commentary and is addicted to apples for some reason. does anyone ever stop to think how nonsensical that is?

[livmadart]

Have you thought of tiny Conan with L.

L:" Watari,i now have a heir."

Poor light his morals and PR stops him from killing the tiny Cone

And misa is confused why she can't read his name, it's like the face is not his own

I most certainly have thought about dropping my lovely son in the Death Note Cinematic Universe! In fact, here are two sketches that I did months ago, but have been stuck in the WIP folder Shadow Realm ever since

I think conan would cause a lot of extremely funny trouble, Light would immediately try to kill him and become comedically frustrated when he cannot. I’ve even got a little mini comic idea in mind too, who knows maybe one day I’ll actually finish it :)))

Thank you for your ask! I loveee to talk about death note <3

[god-of-this-new-blog]

“Upon seeing him head-on, Light was rinsed by an unsettling feeling. He had quashed one rumble inside of him—that The Man resembled his faceless fantasy—but another roared to life: he was drawn to The Man because he was certain he already knew him.” — Kompromat by @lightyaoigami

[violetsdaisy]

“Hate me, hate me, still tryna replace me

Chase me, chase me, tell me how you hate me

Erase me, 'rase me, wish you never dated me

Lies, tell me lies, baby, tell me how you hate me”

- Hate Me by Juice WRLD and Ellie Goulding

[darklight-owl]

Listen.

I know that Wammy's House is all sorts of fucked up.

I know it's an unethical and exploitative system.

I know that every kid that comes from there has issues.

I know that Watari at least partly raised L for financial reasons.

But goddammit whenever I think about them being one big happy family where Wammy and Roger are the gay dads and L is the big brother that everyone admires I get a goofy ass smile on my face so allow me this fantasy of people who don't exist :')

[asmilethatshines]

100 Theme Challenge - 40. Rated

What the hell is "Rated"??

My initial idea and sketching were completely different: I rated my most 3 favorite anime characters: 1/ Afred F. Jones from Hetalia, 2/Mello from Death Note and 3/ Axel from Kingdom Hearts. Many attempts and got one sketch that looked like Afred, Mello turned into a girl >< and don't even mention Axel...

So I changed everything to this picture instead. The idea just popped in my head naturally *thanks God I got rid off another stupid theme*

My internal wall told me: "Please Smile just make things simple and get over it. It's just a children picture. You don't even like this theme". Me: "okay" *then proceed to add a robot for Near (I know it's too small to be noticed but Near's robot even has an "N" carved on one of its foot), a game DS (is that how you call it?) at paused for Matt, a donut for L, a Death Note for Light and a tiara and that ribbon (?) for Mello* God dang it Smile!!!! xDDDDDD I did manage to stop detailing Mello's clothes xDDD

*L rated 70 based on Mello's stats from DN 13 How to read. If he were to rate Near it would be 90

[egoalike]

death note as things my partner said to me pt3

alternatively,

[13eyond13]

death note, but L is very vain.

he loves to look at his own reflection (he started solving crimes so he could subtly surround himself with shiny surfaces/computer screens and found he actually liked it)

he doesn't show his face to that many people, so he just assumes everyone else seems himself as beautiful as he does

misa insults his appearance and he sulks

he fluffs his own hair a lot

L insists on sleeping on the right side of the bed in YA and Light thinks it's a trick but L just wants to look at his own face in the floor-length mirror as he falls asleep

Hahaha, so just Death Note but giving L the inner self-esteem that most people assign to Light 😅

[ivyines]

Girl—

So basically, in minds of sasunaru shippers

Punching = harassing

Stabbing = flirting

[void-chara]

Allies or Enemies by The Crane Wives is sooooo lawlight. Specifically L POV directly after Light regains his memories

“Are we allies or enemies? This will be the death of me

Remember when I could tell you not to smile when you were mad? And you would always crack And we’d both be laughing in the end Now you’re not so quick to forget”

Like AUGH. yep! Not sure what’s gonna happen next, who’s gonna do it, is he gonna die? He knows that someone’s not getting out of this alive. Is he dying literally? Or a metaphorical death of like. If you were here when I discovered phantoms by mariana’s trench know I’m obsessed with like. Them still “dying” when they have to go on living without each other. and like. The remember part being L reminiscing on when he and light. Well. They didn’t get along. But they had to work together and clearly they got along well enough to share a living space for however many months. Whereas now light remembers being Kira again. And so he’s not intentionally acting different but L can tell, L can read him to know how he holds onto resentments more, how he remembers more. OUGH. AUG. OW. I’m hurting myself. Actually wait I started in the middle but let’s go over the beginning too.

“The words I speak are wildfires and weeds They spread like some awful damn disease I swear I didn’t mean what I said I swear I didn’t mean it

Now listen close, you owe me ears for dropping eaves Forget it all, you caught me in a moment weak Sometimes I just can’t help myself Sometimes I can’t help myself at all”

You have to stretch your imagination a bit but this is very rain scene and a bit foot scene. You know from the anime, I’m pretty sure it wasn’t in the manga but idk I haven’t gotten to that part of the manga yet. Anyway! L being unsure of his words and thoughts, a moment of weakness, Very much that part of ep 25 when they’re on the rooftop in the rain and also a bit L in the infamous foot scene, though it’s not quiiitee right for that. Or we’ll everything is good for that but like there’s not Enough for that. There’s a lot going on there. But that’s what the rest of the song is for! Ok now back where we left off at the start of the post.

“Are we allies or enemies? This will be the death of me This will be the death of me All is fair in love and war, but I can’t fight with you anymore This will be the death of me”

Aaaaa. He wants to stop but he knows if he does he’s dead. He wants to just keep playing his games with Light, but he knows they’re at the finish line, if they keep playing they will reach the end and someone’s gonna die. He doesn’t want to stop playing, but he either stops now and whatever Kira is planning takes him out, or he keeps going an either he dies anyway or light does. The game is ending soon but he just wants to keep going, but he can’t, he can’t fight with light much longer, and he’s not even sure whether he wants to, if that’s the game he even wants most, but it’s the only one he has and there’s no other options. Someone’s gonna die and it’s probably gonna be him.

“What happens now? Do we have another go? Do we bow out and take our separate roads? I’ll admit I’ve had my doubts But I want to be let in, not out But I want to be let in, not out”

he’s not sure what’s gonna happen next. He’s not sure what he wants to happen next. he’s had his doubts about the Kira case before, but now he knows he’s right, and he doesn’t wanna stop just cause he’s confident he’s right, because he knows there’s more, he knows they’re more to see and understand, things he’s never even considered possible, and he wants to know and understand everything. He needs to know everything there is to know about Light and Kira, and he’s not sure which intrigues him more, but he’s not ready for there game to stop, for them to part ways. But he knows they will, he’s to smart to think this ends any other way. One of them is dying. He knows himself, and he knows Kira, and so he knows that this cannot end with both of them still standing.

I’m obesssedd with them!!! New song for my lawlight playlist aw yeah. Also the song is really good I’m gonna listen to more of the band this is pretty cool

[shalotttower]

A Natural Benefit

Title: A Natural Benefit

Fandom: Death Note

Characters: L Lawliet x Reader (female)

Summary: L wants to try something new, you want to be left alone. So an offer is on the table, it's a mutually beneficial arrangement after all.

Word count: 2100+

Notes: yandere!L, kidnapped Reader, dub-con kissing, manipulation, captivity, L and Reader were together at Wammy's House

"Would you indulge me?"

Your eyes dart up from the page to his face. L looks at you like he always does ─ an intent yet oddly distant stare that used to make goosebumps appear on your arms. Nowadays you're somewhat re-accustomed to his mannerisms. He doesn't blink much, tends to stand behind your back whenever possible, likes to play with his food and enjoys invading your personal space far too much to be deemed socially acceptable.

His habits are strange but harmless.

"No," you say, just to be contrary.

L is fond of making things sound simple, and then — snap! — the trap is shut, and you find yourself doing a completely different activity than initially expected.

"I want to kiss you."

"N-" You blink and lower your book down, not bothering to mark it. "What?"

"Kissing is an act of physical intimacy between individuals," he says like it's an obvious fact and you're merely slow on the uptake. L's expression doesn't change, neutral despite this being anything but a normal conversation starter even by your standards ─ admittedly low.

"Thank you for enlightening me about the definition," you lean back against the cushions, "still no."

"Why not?" He asks after a momentary pause.

"Because I don't want to."

A simple answer to a weird request. You try to resume reading, but there're other things currently occupying your brain ─ namely the attempts to understand what prompted such inquiry.

L never asked for physical contact before; platonic or otherwise. Sure he tried to entice you into spending time with him through bargain and manipulation, and you pretended to be oblivious enough to earn an Oscar for your acting skills. However, there never was any talk of kissing involved. Any kind of touching, actually.

He hums. "Would you like me to explain my reasons?"

Sometimes you think that the sole cause of L's existence is just so he could annoy people for kicks. His questions are always peculiar, and you've learned that every single one of them is designed to lead towards some specific conclusion, preferably the one he wants. You have a feeling that if you say 'yes', L will proceed to list a hundred points about why kissing is good. And then another hundred why kissing him specifically is beneficial.

"No."

He looks at you. You look at him and raise the book higher.

"Indulging me would benefit both of us," L says, undeterred. "You're very curious by nature and I find it quite fascinating that you're able to deny your curiosity in this particular case."

Has a more obvious bait ever existed anywhere in human history? Probably not, and you'll bet your entire life savings on it too.

"I'm not curious," you lie, "now leave me alone. I want to read."

He leans forward. "You haven't focused on the book since I asked my question."

Smartass. You purse your lips and pretend that the characters are suddenly so interesting, that it's hard to look away from the intricacies of the plot unfolding inside this fictional world. At least things there make sense; no need to figure out the hidden meanings behind other people's words, because they are mostly transparent when there's a whole paragraph dedicated to the protagonist's feelings.

He reminds you of those spider-like creatures from documentaries ─ their actions seem random at first glance, yet upon further scrutiny prove to be anything but. Instead, they're meticulously crafted and executed to obtain maximum results.

L studies you for a little while longer, and eventually pads towards the kitchenette. The kettle whistles soon after as he makes himself tea; mint flavored, judging by the aroma wafting through the air.

______________________________________________________

You should have known that he won't give up ─ L is just as persistent as you are stubborn. If anything, you've set a challenge before him, and he tends to fixate on those until they are solved: a fact well-known and accepted among those who ever had a (dis)pleasure of interacting with him.

He doesn't outright ask you again, not the next day or the one after that. No. Accidentally, the only type of movies you're able to watch now are rom-coms or dramas with lots of kissing scenes sprinkled here and there between the banter bordering on cringe; sweet confessions spoken over candlelit dinners; passionate declarations whispered during sunsets... Clichés, amore, and kisses galore.

"I'm not sure this is the best movie for the evening," you say, as the screen flickers with images of two leads gazing into each other's eyes like they found the answers to every single question asked.

"The reviews are quite positive," L replies, munching on caramel popcorn.

"Reviews can be faked. And the trailer was misleading. I thought it was going to be an action movie."

"It is an action movie. The genres are listed right there," he points at the screen, and the words 'romance and action' stare back at you.

You frown and settle deeper into the couch cushions. It's uncomfortable ─ watching romantic scenes with L in the same room. His presence doesn't feel oppressive or demanding, yet you can't shake off the squirmy, twisty feeling. The kind when you enter an elevator with someone else and get slightly agitated for no reason. And so you try to slow down your breathing, but it only makes things worse. Your heart beats faster, palms start sweating and the hypothetical elevator stranger inevitably thinks that you're weird.

L isn't an elevator stranger. He's the owner of the elevator, and the entire building, and the city.

"He's going to die in the next ten minutes," you mutter.

"No, he won't."

"Yes, he will."

L hums. "Want a bet?"

Your eyes narrow.

"If he survives past the fifteen minute mark," L says slowly, "you indulge me."

"And if he doesn't?"

"I leave you alone for two days."

There's no hesitation on his side. None whatsoever, which proves suspicious immediately ─ L never offers something unless certain about the outcome beforehand, whether by logical deduction or calculated gamble. Probability factors run inside his brain instead of blood cells and grey matter, calculating risk vs return ratio quicker than any computer ever could.

You glance at the screen. It's a simple plot. There were a twist or two earlier, sure, but overall nothing extraordinary that would require hours upon hours of critical thinking to unravel.

A man, a woman. A handsome villain who wants them dead, for various reasons. They run and fight, shoot guns, dodge punches, and kiss between those because apparently there's time for romance even when a life is on the line.

It's a very simple plot; and two days are a lot to pretend that L doesn't exist. That you got rich enough to buy this kind of apartment.

"The speakers?"

"Switched off."

"The cameras?"

"Those will stay."

Of course, they will. You wouldn't expect anything less ─ privacy issues are non-existent here in more ways than one.

L isn't always a presence. Sometimes he leaves and you're alone with nothing but books and TV to pass time, but two days sound wonderful regardless. There's something in empty spaces that's enticing, even if they're temporary. L, for all his peculiarities, isn't too bad of a company. He's quiet, and often busy with his own matters. But he also has this way of looking at you that is unnerving. Like you're interesting. Or important. Or simply fascinating.

Sometimes he wants to talk, he wants to listen, he wants to ask questions and give answers until everything blurs into an amalgamation of words. It's exhausting.

Two days sound good. His hand is dry and slender. You grasp it and shake it once.

"I'll start the timer now," L says after your hands separate.

______________________________________________________

Twelve minutes.

Three more and he's dead.

You wish that he'd just kick the bucket already, so you could spend the next forty eight hours in pure, undiluted bliss.

_______________________________________________________

The male lead dies after seventeen minutes.

When the credits roll over, the apartment is silent except for the soft buzzing of electronics. You look at the screen, stubbornly, because you don't want to look at him, the owner of the elevator, and the building, and the city.

"It was close," he comments, as if trying to comfort you, which makes it even more of a sore spot.

That’s what L thrives on ─ technicalities, loopholes, small and seemingly insignificant details which are easily overlooked, yet make a great difference. You're not sure if you're annoyed, or disappointed. And what’s more important ─ at whom.

You have known for years that L tends to get his way eventually whenever there's something specific caught up in that head of his; a fixation which refuses to leave until satisfied, and sometimes even after. Snap. You can get up and head out of the living room, you know you can. Will you though is another question entirely.

L isn't a typical captor ─ he doesn't demand or force you into things. He simply presents a possibility and waits. Not aggressive or domineering, not sadistic. But oh he is a PhD of holding a grudge. Leaving now probably means waking up tomorrow and finding that every single disk has vanished without a trace, along with the bookshelves being switched for some obscure scientific texts on chemistry, physics and other things that require an advanced degree to fully understand.

Because someone decided that you don’t deserve entertainment anymore. Because someone is petty enough to deprive you of basic mental stimuli, and is stubborn enough to hold onto that decision even when reasoned with. Unsuccessfully.

It's a talent really, this particular brand of making your life miserable in many small ways, so they accumulate into something greater over time until you feel like the walls are closing in slowly but surely.

You can't back out, even though no one openly stops you from doing so. And L knows that. And he knows that you know. His lips twitch and curl upward before flattening again into neutral territory.

There's a theory that if you pull a band-aid fast enough, it won't hurt as much. The credibility behind it is questionable.

You exhale and meet L's gaze ─ his posture hasn't changed from the beginning to the end of the film, knees tucked to his chest, eyes two dark pools that stare without blinking. His fingers drum a steady rhythm, and that's probably the only sign that gives it away.

Anticipation.

"Fine," you say finally.

His mouth opens before closing back again. L doesn't move a bit.

He wants you to do it, you realize. Wants you to initiate instead of just allowing it. What an ass.

You squish his cheeks between your palms until his lips pucker outwards. L makes a soft noise of surprise but doesn't try to fight back.

Black lashes cast a shadow across his skin. There's no perfume or cologne, no distinct smell ─ he uses plain soap and shampoo which don't have a discernible aroma.

"I believe I was promised an indulgence," L says, voice muffled a bit by your hands on his face.

He looks like a fish this way. A silly, ridiculous image that would make you snort if not for the situation at hand.

Band-aids and ripping them off.

You sigh, lean forward, and press your mouth to his.

He tastes like caramel popcorn.

Mint tea.

Indulgence.

The angle is awkward, and L doesn't move an inch to accommodate the position. He stays still like a block of solid rock, not a single muscle twitches, and doesn't even attempt to reciprocate. You have half a mind to think that maybe he's mocking you, but then his fingers lightly curl on the fabric of his jeans. L's eyelids flutter half-closed when your noses bump, then open again right after. Another oddity added to the pile.

It lasts no longer than ten seconds before you pull away. L blinks. Touches his lower lip with the tip of a finger and rubs it like searching for traces left by the contact.

"You were promised an indulgence," you remind him, trying to sound calm, collected, but your ears and neck feel hot, "not a make-out session."

Technicalities and loopholes.

L has that look you can't quite pinpoint yet know far too well. You've seen it many times before. When he thinks about something but keeps it to himself for now.

"You look more lively," he remarks eventually. "Healthy complexion suits you."

You don't need to hear what he says next, because the words already ring through your head.

"I told you it would benefit us both."