Ryuk and Light's relationship is so important to me, you don't understand—
I am a staunch 'Ryuk is aro/ace' believer, so it's not about that, but whatever they have is also not anything else more than the other. Like, they're not lovers, they're too close to be acquaintances, too vicious to be friends, too uncaring to be enemies, like,,,,I can't EXPLAIN it but I adore it, it has me by my whole neck.
The way that Light isn't afraid of Ryuk at all, the way that he patiently explains everything he's doing without putting up that Perfect facade of his—because Ryuk is the only one that Light has ever shown all of himself too. The only being that he's ever given bits of himself to freely.
Meanwhile Ryuk is possibly the only being that wouldn't shy away from Light as he truly is. (Barring L but that's a different story and this ain't about him). Light's a little fucking monster and every other person around him wouldn't just roll with it like Ryuk does. His family would either fear him or try to fix him, his peers would likely do the same, and Misa already got a glimpse of him and disregarded it in favor of seeing what she wanted to see—even Rem has reason to be wary of him because of her feelings for Misa (and also the fact that she likely has more humanity in her than Ryuk).
Ryuk sticks by Light's side through all of it. He cares for him, but not in any traditional or even tangible way—why else would he stick around for those five years between L dying and Near and Mello showing up? It HAD to have been boring at some point in those years, but Ryuk just chilled with Light through it instead of killing him/finding something more interesting.
There's a mutual respect there. Their personalities reflect each other enough that they understand each other while also being highly aware of what the other is capable of. There are no soft feelings between them, but they're there. They play video games together and have inside jokes and expect almost nothing from each other even as they play around for their own ends.
Their parallels—"This world is rotten." "I've been bored too."—make them able to intimately understand one another. They're like brothers, like twins, and yet nothing about them is familial.
I have absolutely no clue what their relationship is but it is fascinating.
89 notes
·
View notes
So This Was A Little More Angsty Than I Recalled...
We’re probably both going to be bruised black and blue by the time this is over, Ezra thinks, blocking a hard swing and throwing it right back. The sun was setting when they started, and it’s nearly dark now.
Sabine’s eyes glow too gold for comfort in the dusky night. Just like he has every day for the last month, he bites his tongue and holds back his questions.
Hera and Zeb won’t tell him about whatever happened to Sabine on Malachor, Kanan and Okadiah are as lost as Ezra is, and if Ahsoka knows anything, she’s not telling. When Ezra brought it up to Mom and Dad, they just told him to be there for Sabine.
He’s been trying.
Sabine has not been cooperating.
So after a month of being there with no success, Ezra gave up and decided that it was time for some non-optional friendship bonding time, but even his best efforts at finding a so-bad-it’s-good holofilm like they used to watch together, even after making some really good movie snacks, all for her, she sulked and complained the whole time, being so—so—infuriating that before he knew it, they were yelling in each others’ faces about tropes.
Ezra stopped yelling, stopped the film, took her by the arm, dragged her outside into the Atollon landscape, and said that they were going to beat the crap out of each other.
(For Mandalorians, sparring is training, recreation, and even courtship. He figured… maybe it would work as therapy, too?)
He doesn’t feel bad about throwing the first punch, because she hit back twice as hard. Ezra thinks his lip is split from a hard hit to the front of his helmet, and Sabine’s knuckles are scraped raw and bloody. They circle each other, slower now than when they started. Her hair has blown out of her braid and sticks to her face in the heat.
It’s a little bit pretty, but now definitely isn’t the right time to think about that.
Sabine rolls one shoulder—he thinks it’s where he landed a decent punch.
“Had enough, tin can?” she demands, but the tension has started to drain from her body and she sounds a little closer to playful than he thought she could ever be again.
“Not if you’ve still got that attitude, wizard girl.”
“You’re gonna regret that,” Sabine warns. She settles into a stance, rocking a little, coiled like a spring.
“Probably,” Ezra agrees.
She draws a breath, and Ezra must have blinked or something, because in the space of an instant, she’s flown at him. He can barely see her in the dark and even the night vision in his helmet doesn’t help.
But he has a split second of advantage. In pure chance, she overextends, and he slams into her, sending them both tumbling through the Atollon dust.
She’s up on her feet again right away—or at least she would be, but Ezra snags her wrist, and drags her back down, flipping over so she’s neatly pinned beneath him.
All he needs is a knife to hold to her throat and it would be a near-perfect replica of the scene in the holofilm that started their stupid fight in the first place.
Sabine doesn’t say anything. She just lies on her back in the dust, looking up at him with the eyes that always seemed to see through his mask, but now they don’t look like they’re seeing anything. He hopes she’s processing her emotions and not disassociating.
Ezra is about to move off of her when something catches his eye, and he brushes some of her hair away from her face. It clings—not with sweat, but with blood. There’s a cut on her cheek.
“Did I hurt you?” he breathes, not sure what he’s even saying, and he draws away.
Flying up, her hand seizes his wrist, gripping painfully tight, even as her sharpening gaze fixes right where his eyes would be.
Ezra swallows dryly. The look she gives him is making him feel a thousand things that he doesn’t really want to sort out, now or ever.
“Sabine?” he asks. “What…”
He trails off. Her thumb slides to the little space between his glove and his sleeve, pulling the cloth back. Never looking away from his face, she pulls his arm up and softly kisses the pulse of his wrist.
“You’re dangerous, Ezra,” she smiles, breath on his skin.
Then, like the Spectre she is, Sabine is gone.
46 notes
·
View notes