I Got Death Note HTR13 Recently And Reading It Made Me Realize How There's Barely Any Thematic Meaning

Do y’all think siblings in medieval times would look at the little beasts in illuminated manuscripts and point at each other like ‘ha! ‘Tis thou!’

happy birthday light yagami you deserved all of this that happened to you <3

Using tumblr is like living in a low class apartment building. You just get used to the landlord not fixing things, and then someone new moves in and you're helpfully like "oh yeah don't drink the tap water, it's got stuff in it that makes you sick" and then your neighbor you've had forever goes "oh they took the stuff out actually" and you're like "what? when was this?"

"like two years ago"

"you mean i could've been drinking the tap water all this time?"

"yeah. they gave us individual mailboxes too finally, you don't have to dig through the communal bin anymore"

"are you for real right now?? i just redirected my mail, i didnt know"

and the new tennant is like "why did you guys even live here if it was so bad"

"we like it."

"I kinda miss the communal mail bin tho"

it's a cruel summer (with you)

You and Donald Na get wrapped up in a summer romance. It doesn't end well.

F/M, Angst, Hurt no comfort

Inspired by the song 'Cruel Summer' by Taylor Swift

(and I’m drunk in the back of the car-)

You leaned into the man’s shoulder, cloth rubbing against your skin, your two bodies pressed against each other. You inhaled, and expensive cologne filled your nostrils, dampening your already dulled senses.

"But whyyyy?” You slurred, leaning into him even further. Your voice comes out whinier than usual, like that of a disobedient child, but you’re too drunk to care. The man next to you stays silent, and you steal a glance at him. His cold steely gaze is harsh in comparison to the soft fabric of his sweatshirt sleeve- lined with golden motifs and bought with an absurd amount of money no high schooler should have had access to. 

“Donald.”

Donald Na’s red eyes land on you for a second (you don’t know how to feel- elated that you caught his attention, or small, under his shrinking gaze, his silence a simple reminder that you aren’t worth his time. But, a smaller voice in your head whispered, He hasn’t pushed you away. And for you, that was enough.) before shifting back to the road. 

You follow his line of sight- red and green traffic lights and moving cars blurring into one under the droplets of rain beating down on the windows. To anyone outside in the pouring rain it might’ve seemed warm and cozy, but to you it was as cold as ever. You looked back at his face, his beautiful, angelic, face. Angelic, hah. Pretty, snake like red eyes that were hellbent on ignoring you, pale, flawless, undented skin, like you were looking at a marble statue. 

It was laughable how someone who looked like they could’ve been sculpted by God himself was capable of doing so much harm. (Some poetic part of you thought that your comparison of him to a marble statue was rather fitting- beautiful, yet cold and untouchable. You supposed it was the alcohol talking.)

It started back at the bar.

~

It was hot outside when you met him. The summer was in, and you were drinking your way through the sweltering heat in the bar. 

Donald was there sometimes, and he had always caught your eye. How could he not? Tall, pale, and tattooed, radiating an expensive yet untouchable aura, always watching, never taking a sip. It intrigued you, so much that one day you approached him. He seemed sort of amused by your arrival, and in a way it felt demeaning- like you were just some idiotic girl that he saw as entertainment. You pushed it away.

One thing about Donald Na, is that he did everything right. He was charming, bought you drinks and bantered with you, yet you knew that this man was a bad idea the moment you set eyes on him. You were drawn in anyways. It’s not built to last. That’s what you told yourself. It’s just a casual fling. You weren’t sure you believed yourself, as his snake-like eyes met your own (his captivating aura was even stronger up close), from your view next to him on the booth seat. 

He smiled at you (God, he was gorgeous) and you knew that your entire being was going to be consumed by this man, like he was a black hole and you were the astronaut who floated away too far from the space station. Only you were jumping in willingly. 

Perhaps that was a mistake, dedicating every fiber of your being to something you knew could only end in tragedy.

He started coming in more often, still never consuming a drop of alcohol. You asked him why once, and he smiled at you with that smirk of his- the one that said he was always in charge of the situation (the one that drove you crazy)- and said that it was ‘dirty’. The two of you talked for a bit at the bar, before you started meeting at other places. Late nights where you’d text him all of a sudden, asking him if he wanted to go to the park to ‘hang out’. Oh, please. It was a date, and both of you knew it. 

Other times he’d be the one calling you up, abruptly informing you that he’d reserved a table for two that night at some fancy restaurant with a complicated name that you had no idea how he could afford, telling you to clear your schedule. He’d bring you in, arm around your waist, walking like he owned the fucking place. Despite all the time the two of you spent hanging out, you didn’t know that much about him. 

He was from Yeo-il High apparently, but aside from that he was some sort of enigma to you, expertly dodging questions about his job and personal life, and especially his background, half truths rolling off his tongue as if he was used to twisting the situation to his advantage. That should have scared you off; a man with something to hide is not a man to be trusted. You knew that, and yet you ignored it. All the red flags that should have pushed you away drew you even closer to Donald Na.

You guessed it was just some dumb, self destructive part of you that wanted to know more, craved the feeling of having him open up to you when he was so on guard with everyone else, that screamed louder than the sensible part of your brain that told you that this could only end badly. So for a couple months as the two of you grew closer, you lived in a false reality, a dream where you were always aware that the alarm clock was going to come ringing eventually. You took a gamble; you made a bet.

~

It started back at the bar. 

Donald had to admit that when you first showed up, pretty face flushed from alcohol, he didn’t think much of you. He watched in amusement as you struck up a conversation with him, played along as you flirted with him, yet the more he talked to you, he couldn’t help but get the growing feeling that you knew exactly what you were getting yourself into. He was good at that, at reading people. He decided he wanted to see where this would go- talking to old men and delinquents all day was frustrating after all. He needed some normal human interaction too.

You were ordinary. And he meant that as a compliment. Frankly, Donald was bored of dealing with delinquents who thought they were tough shit until they got a taste of his fist, tired of the business meetings and stuffy suits. He had learned to savour the ordinary in his everyday life, knowing that it would fade away soon enough; sitting in his dark office, eating soft bread, watching the traffic below. 

He would listen as you talked about your life, about your parents, about drama at your prestigious all girls school, about your grades, just anything. It was so different from his dangerous, crime filled life. It was peaceful. Each moment he spent with you felt like he was pressing pause on his reality and jumping into another one, one where he wasn’t stressed out running a criminal empire, one where he could just spend time slowly talking with you under the dim lights of the bar.

But all good things had to come to an end. It was a cruel lesson that life taught Donald again and again, to the point where he got used to leaving and being left. He knew that this secret relationship couldn’t last forever- It wasn’t built to last. He had accepted it as a fact. One thing that Donald valued, even more than his criminal empire, even more than his own life, even more than you, was his reputation.

It was his reputation that kept him alive, that made sure that fuckers who would usually be trying to oppose him, couldn’t even look him in the eye. It was what let him lead the Union so flawlessly, and he knew that at the slightest slip up, the smallest mistake, all the scum that had cowered at his feet before would come running. Loved ones were seen as a liability in his world, as weaknesses to exploit. He wasn’t gonna risk all that he’d worked for, what he'd spent all these years building up just for a small crush, a summer fling.

He looked down at you, leaning against his body, his jacket over your bare shoulders. He would miss you when you were gone.

~

"We should stop meeting up." 

Donald’s icy tone broke the peaceful silence that hung over the table. You blinked, drunken mind taking a moment to process what he said. When his statement finally registered, you swivelled around to face him, grimacing when your head spun. Shit.

“What?” You put your hand to your head, rubbing at your temple; you must’ve misheard him. But there was no mistaking the way his light hearted voice turned hard, no mistaking the whiplash it gave you.  

“We should stop meeting up.” Donald Na always got straight to the point. Speaking frankly even when he was breaking your heart. 

You moved yourself off of his side, sitting up straight, as if his words had sobered you up.

“Why? What are you talking about?” You watched him- cold, red eyes and an indifferent expression. You felt your heart drop. He had to be fucking joking. Your life depended on it. 

The thrill of the chase was wearing off, and now it was time to face the consequences.

“You know what I mean. Let’s end this.” Donald didn’t look at you as he stood up. The last pieces of hope that you clung on to fully disintegrated into ash. You knew that face; the cold, distant one that he put on when he was annoyed. “You’re drunk. I’m getting a taxi.” 

You chased after him as he walked out of the bar, yanking on his sleeve with a manicured hand. 

“Wait- Tell me what I fucking did wrong. Don’t just leave, Goddamnit!” 

Donald sighed, and you knew whatever came next would be painful. Even if it was just the truth. You weren’t sure why you asked the question- perhaps it just slipped out due to intoxication and desperation, hoping to hear another answer rather than the one that you’ve already known since the start. 

A cab pulls up on the street before he can start. You get in, and he does too. 

Rain starts to pour as the cab door slams shut, and the driver steps on the gas, soft jazz music playing on the radio. Red, orange, and yellow leaves fell from the trees, your eyes following them as they hit the ground. Just like a movie scene. You wondered if there was a God out there. How cruel, if this was the fate that they had chosen for you. But then again, you did suppose you chose it yourself. 

Maybe it was unfair to blame everything on an omnipotent being you weren’t sure was even there. The calming music, and the thudding of the heavy rain on the windows made your eyelids heavy, but you couldn’t fall asleep- not like this.

“But whyy?” You cut through the heavy silence. Donald kept quiet, and the cab driver minded his business. Fuck. It felt like you were freezing inside the taxi. You wondered if the vehicle had heating, as you leaned into Donald’s shoulder. His sweater was warm. He however, was colder than ever, as he watched the road, like whatever was going on outside was so much more interesting than you. You took a moment to admire his face.

Pale skin, piercings and scarlet eyes. At least even in uncertainty one thing stayed the same.

“Donald.” 

He said nothing. 

“Goddamnit, you asshole. Don’t ignore me.” He turned to face you, and your heart leapt. 

“Goodnight.”

The cab came to a halt outside a large house. You’d been there before, marvelling at Donald's tall ceilings and designer furniture. 

“Wait-” You have got to be fucking kidding me.

“Get her home safe.” Donald cast you a glance before the door shut, and the car sped off. 

It felt like the universe was playing a big prank on you today. Like you were the galaxy’s equivalent of a little kid wearing a dunce hat in the back of the classroom and everyone else was just pointing at you and laughing. 

Hahahaha. You just got dumped, or whatever the term for what just happened for the strange relationship you and Donald Na shared was, and then stood up in the back of a taxi. Hilarious.

But you wouldn’t end things. Not like this, in the pouring rain in the backseat of a cab. The alcohol spurred you on, making you bolder than you usually would’ve been. You’ve already made so many bad decisions, what was one more?

“Stop the car.” The taxi driver cast a quick, incredulous look back. “Stop, now?”

“Stop, now.” 

The driver stared at you like you were mad, but you paid it no mind, pulling dollar notes out of your purse and handing it to him as he slammed on the brakes. 

“Thank you.” 

You jumped out of the car and into the raging storm. The water hit your bare shoulders, but you felt numb to the cold, your mind focused on only one thing. Your head was throbbing, but you were sober enough to walk straight.

 That would be enough for you, as you ran towards Donald's home, pressing the doorbell repeatedly. The storm around you didn’t stop, beating into you persistently, soaking you, your minidress, and anything you had on underneath. Water pooled around your feet, and you knew that the heels you had on would be ruined by the end of the night. 

Finally, the door cracked open, and streaks of light broke the inky darkness that you stood in. Donald stood there too, looking down at you with those vermillion eyes. His eyes widened slightly, though the rest of his face remained levelled, like he was surprised you were there but decided to mask it with apathy.

“Go home. You’re going to get sick.” His tone sounded indifferent, but you could pick up on hints of? exhaustion? exasperation? regret? 

If you regret it so much, take me back, you asshole.

“Tell me why.” Your voice came out hoarse, and you cleared your throat. You tried your best to stay still under his stare, under his overwhelming presence.

His eyes narrowed, and his lips grew taut, before finally, he broke eye contact and let out a sigh. 

Exasperation, you were right. 

You knew you were probably quite a pathetic sight; shivering and soaked to the bone. You hoped your makeup wasn’t running. 

“There are some things I can’t tell you. On my part, I’m sorry things had to end this way.” 

“But let’s be honest. We both knew that this wouldn’t go well, so let’s not pretend that you didn’t know this would happen.” 

He moved to close the door, and the pounding of the rain seemed to hit harder than usual. “Good night, and I mean it this time.”

For a second there it was as if you saw the grains of sand flowing down the invisible hourglass of your relationship, and you knew you had to do something- you didn’t know what, but something. 

“Wait! Please!” 

Donald paused. You saw his face through the crack of his front door. He looked tentative, like he was expecting you to say something. To try to change his mind.

So you did.

“I love you!”

You felt instantaneous regret as the words left your mouth.

You watched Donald for the hundredth time. He didn't scoff, or reply emotionlessly like you expected. What came next was much worst.

He laughed. You’ve heard Donald laugh before- usually just a soft chuckle in response to a joke you made. This was a hollow, humorless laugh that chilled you to the bone.

You’d practically studied Donald’s face, every soft curve and every sharp angle had been practically memorised by you, carved into your mind.

But this wasn’t something you’ve seen before. A devilish smile. How ironic; you’d compared him to an angel just moments before. Well, the devil came in many forms. Maybe Donald Na was one of them. You unconsciously took a step back. 

He caught his breath, and his laughter ceased.

“No, you don’t.”

The door slammed shut.

~

Pure despair.

It had been a while since you had last felt it. 

Truth is, you didn’t cry easy. When you got sad, you got moody. And when you got moody, you got angry, lashing out and sulking until you cooled down as a way to cope with the pain. Now, there was none of that. No one to blame but yourself.

The tears did not come out in a rush; it built up slowly in the wells of your eyes before cascading down your face like a dam had been broken, getting heavier and heavier until you were fully sobbing. You let out a raw, anguished cry, like a banshee in the night.

You had prepared yourself for this a million times, waited for this moment to come, but you never expected it to hurt like this. 

At that moment, you wished you were at home, in your comfiest pyjamas, taking in the warmth of your blanket. But you were crying on the front step of some man’s house, makeup and tears streaming down your face, half frozen to death. You should have brought your jacket along. 

Maybe this wouldn’t have happened had you thought this through.

Donald was right (of course he was). You did know that this was going to happen. You knew that this was the reality that was written for the two of you, carved in stone by the hand of whatever divine being was up there. And you didn’t love him. You just blurted it out of desperation to make him stay. 

After all, it was impossible to love somebody you didn’t know. 

Maybe you could have loved him, if this relationship wasn’t doomed from start to end. 

Sure, Donald could be cruel. But you were too, to want more than he had to give. You knew there was nothing more to it than a summer fling, and yet you threw yourself into it headfirst hoping that there could be something more. Well, there wasn’t. 

One part of you wondered what would have happened if you listened to your Goddamn brain and stayed away from him. Then you’d just be two strangers in a bar, with you constantly looking over at him in curiosity and him pretending not to notice your glances before finally failing to show up one day. Two planets orbiting each other, but never touching. 

(The reckless part of you, the one that got you into this mess, thought that it would’ve tortured you more if you had never approached Donald. How you would’ve stayed up at night, thinking about what it could’ve been.) 

You laughed in spite of yourself. You were gonna get yourself killed one day.

Numbly, you pushed yourself off of Donald’s doorstep, standing up wobbly, the tears blurring your vision. The cold rain had sobered you up, and your mind was clear. It was time to pull yourself together. You sent a glance back at Donald’s house. All of his lights were off except for one. You wondered if he had heard you cry. You wondered if he cared.  You guessed that you were of value to him, just not as much as whatever he was hiding from you. Not that it mattered anymore.

You knew you’d get over it eventually. Time heals all wounds, after all- like the grains of sand running over a jagged rock in a river until it became a smooth pebble, but for now, you would mourn. 

You looked around. The neighbourhood was a nice one, large houses lining the empty streets, lighted by rows of lamp posts. The wind blew colder, and both you and the tree skeletons shivered. The air had grew colder over the past few days, signalling the end of a long summer, and the start of autumn. The start of a new beginning. 

This time, you didn’t look back as you walked away.

Ah yes, oxytocin.

I have been reading a bit on the OTW elections and the whole Tiffany G thing, but most of all, I've been reading comments from people supporting Tiffany saying that she just wants to clear AO3 from all the CSAM (child sexual abuse material) content and I don't know who needs to hear this but:

If someone comes to a predominantly QUEER space (like AO3) and tells you that censorship is necessary to eradicate CSAM... it's not actually CSAM they want to eradicate...

I've seen this type of discourse about Pride and about queer literature and queer movies and queer communities. It's a tried and true technique of the right and conservative movements.

First, they say there is a DANGER to the community through CSAM and they conflate the actual threat of CSAM in the community (we all know someone who thinks that writing a love story between two characters who are 16 is CSAM...), and make you believe that censorship is the only way to PROTECT THE CHILDREN. And since most people are (rightly) mind-bogled at having to explain that of course they don't support CSAM content, they bow down and accept the censorship for the greater good, without anyone actually trying to have a conversation about what qualifies as CSAM (which needs to, you know, actually involve real children and not fictional characters who are 17 and losing their virginity with their crush in a Mature-rated story about high school football and first love based on the author's own experience of losing their virginity at 17 to their crush in high school).

Then, they tell you that there are other forms of DISTURBING CONTENT, and what they really mean is porn that THEY find disturbing, for ex, (and I kid you not, I have seen comments like that) porn featuring disabled characters, which they consider to encourage the exploitation of vulnerable individuals, or BDSM porn (which supposedly encourages violence and lack of consent), or rough porn, or any kind of porn that isn't two (preferably white and skinny) able-bodied people doing it missionary style while lovingly gazing in each other's eyes. SO TO PROTECT VIEWERS, that needs to be banned as well.

And then, they tell you that even that sanitized version of porn is still porn and that people under 18 or under 21 or under whatever age they consider too young to view anything sexual regardless of the fact that not all countries have the same law about the age of maturity, should be free to surf the site without having to *gasp* filter out properly tagged works. So TO PROTECT THE CHILDREN, every explicit content is censored.

And then finally, when all that is left is a sanitized, white-washed, ableist, puritan type of content featuring General-Audience approved gay works of two nice men or two nice women holding hands and chastely kissing each other on the lips... Well guess what? :) CHILDREN SHOULD NOT BE EXPOSED TO QUEER CONTENT SO WE NEED TO BAN THAT AS WELL, and since we've basically done purge after purge before and there are still a handful of people on the website, well surely they won't mind/care anymore, will they?

It's not just a slippery slope, it's something that has been done time and again, and that is why censorship on AO3 will never, never have a positive outcome.

Thank you for coming to my TED talk.

the idea that it’s ‘creepy’ to interact with things posted a long time ago is so terrible for artists and contributes to the pressure to be constantly creating new work, at an unhealthy and unsustainable rate. I hate it so much.

what a nerd😯😯

good

No but the Hunger Games really said "what do you hate more- the atrocities or the people who commit them against you? Because like it or not there IS a difference. If you hate the people who commit acts of pure evil more than you hate the acts themselves, what will stop you from becoming just like your enemies in your pursuit of justice? What will keep you from commiting those very same acts against THEM when the opportunity arises? And what then? The cycle of pain and suffering will never stop. Round and round it'll go. Nothing will ever change. But. BUT. If you hate the atrocities. If you hate the vile, senseless acts MORE than you hate the people who did them to you. If you are able to see that evil is evil regardless of who does it... The cycle ends with you. No, you may never get justice. But you will never be responsible for making others, even your enemies, suffer the same crimes you have. The atrocities will never be committed by you, never by your hand. And that's the way you change the world. It's the ONLY way" and that's why I am sure it will never stop being one of the most relevant works of fiction ever created