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NominationRegardless of their gifts, their intellect, their understanding, he weeded them out one by one. Simply by answering the questions they asked, automatically, like a computer infected with spyware whose purpose it was to probe the database's files. Scan for information regarding the identity of all of these children sitting before him.
The letter "L" they spoke to was the search engine. He was the spyware. They, the unsuspecting databases. The students being groomed to one day replace someone they've never even met face-to-face. Newer versions of him to take over onceshouldsomething happen to the original model.
A girl in pigtails raised her hand and leaned forward, no longer willing to wait for his acknowledgement. Linda. Likeness. The artist in the House. Her memory and attention to detail were impeccable: both important traits in any detective, never mind in L. "Me next, me next! L, it's amazing how you've solved so many cases and helped so many people in a short time comp
FatherShe never would've thought a day like Father's Day could bring about so much angst. Father's Day, for her, had always been a day for goofing off with her old man. It'd been about waking up at the crack of dawn to fix him breakfastboth a gesture of appreciation and an attempt to impress him with whatever mad cooking skills she'd learned from himand watching his face contort into odd expressions as he tried to swallow her culinary creations, then insist on the whole gang going out to eat when she'd ask him if she should make him lunch, too. It'd been about getting him the craziest tie she could find (ideally, one that's even crazier than the one her brother would get) to add to his collection, but not before biting back snickers as their father paraded his gift around his neck for all of his friends to behold at work for several days afterwards. It'd been about the entire tribe spending the afternoon at the bowling alleyher and him versus Mom and Farley, though it could
Bad Ryuk"Bad Ryuk! Bad, bad, bad!"
All Ryuk could go was stand there and let the pillows, lamps and tea kettle sail through his transparent form while he waited out the ear-mutilating tantrum Misa was throwing for reasons he couldn't quite fathom. Not that Misa would've expected him to understand, but she'd never counted on him to be this stupid. Or was "cruel" the right word? The shinigami could be an odd mix of both.
"How could you do this to me? I was just getting to the good part, too! Bad Ryuk! Bad shinigami! Bad, bad shinigami!"
"You're sure making an awful racket. I don't get it, what's the big deal?" he snickered as he scratched the back of his head, unperturbed by the petulant mantra Misa was chanting as though he were a dog that had just peed where it shouldn't. Not that it would've done her much good, but it was a wonder why she hadn't tried to spank him with a rolled-up newspaper, yet. A newspaper would've been, in the layman's opinion, a far richer and better read than the now hal
ImpulseFifteen minutes ago, Matsuda had been sent away to brew a fresh pot of coffee, fuel for another all-nighter. Neither he nor the requested beverage, never mind both, have materialized in the monitor room since then. Further investigation with a disgruntled Light in tow reveals an empty kitchenette and a now lukewarm pot of coffee.
Surveillance reveals a grinning Matsuda on Misa's couch in slippers, a large bowl of popcorn settled next to him (plain, not the good caramel- or chocolate-coated kind). All light sources in the room are off except several scented candles scattered in the corners and a flashlight in Matsuda's hand, which he aims at the center of the wall. Misa and "Elin" are sitting at his feet in their nightwear, making shapes with their hands in front of the light and giggling at the shadows projected on the wall.
Elin holds up a fist and moves it in front of the light in what is supposed to be a hopping motion, wiggling two fingers for ears and protruding t
Veggies"Kid, if you keep eating like that, your body's gonna quit on you."
L is the middle of prodding at the strawberry from his cake with the prongs of his fork when she waltzes in unannounced and takes a seat on his left. These are her first words to him, the opening for another new argument.
Light doesn't pull his gaze away from the monitor, but types away as he mildly chides her, "Elin, whatever it is you want, could you please come back later? We're trying to work, and I don't think that this is any emergency that we should know about."
She waves from across the room. "Oh, I never said you had to stop working, Light. But this kinda is an emergency. Ryuzaki doesn't eat right. You like variety, don't you, Ryuzaki? So how come all I ever see you eat is junk food? Sure, we all like it, too, but you need balance, man. There's a lot more to the food pyramid than just cake and cookies and plain old sugar."
It's true, he does like variety, but there are many different kinds of desserts besides
RenovationsErin Blogger doesn't appear to be in as big of a rush to go home as she initially had been. It's almost funny, now. When he'd first brought her into custody, she's protested until she'd turned blue that she "doesn't have forever to waste" (as though catching Kira was going to quite literally take them forever). Not to mention the past few months she's spent egging him every chance she'd get about postponing work just because he'd gotten a little depressed about being wrong about Light's guilt (he's always suspected Kira to be highly intelligent and cunning, but he may have underestimated him, if that's even possible, which had only depressed him all the more).
Now that things are back in gear, here she is complaining to Misa about the lack of adequate "breaks" for the task force as they paint their toenails on her sofa, while he watches from the discretion of the monitor room. "Breaks" which will cut in on work towards apprehending Kira and thus prolong her wait for her release.
BallbreakersFor once, Misa lets her pick where to go for yet another potentially dreadful date night, on the condition that it turns out to be the best they've ever had, so far (given the quality of the last dozen, her expectations have fallen so low that a totally uneventful outing would do it for her).
Swearing that she'll do much better than that, Erin asks, "Any of you guys know a good bowling alley?"
Erin's not exactly the athletic type, that's more her brother's thing. But if she had to choose a favorite sport, bowling would be the first to come to mind. If one wanted honesty, anyway. There's just something relaxing about the whole thing: like packing all of your troubles into a smooth, heavy ball and swinging them down the lane of life, watching them disappear with all of your worries that loom up ahead with an awesome, thunderous crash (in fact, when she and Farley were growing up, he would tell her that actual thunder was the sound of cloud-giants bowling to help soothe her anxiety toward
what love is not.it was a s l o p p y first kiss where
my drunk lips fumbled against yours.
the dull thwack of my heart,
locked behind curved ribs
cleared my groggy brain,
clouded with lustful premonitions.
it was an e l e c t r i f y i n g first kiss where
you entwined your hands in my hair.
your mouth encompassed mine and
my breath became lost in the steady
of your chest.
it was a s h y first kiss where
i pulled away before you could explore.
your tongue grazed my teeth,
searching for a way past the ivory gates.
i dug my finger into the stubble along your jaw,
my nail lulling your carnal desires.
it was my first kiss with you.
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