my chemical transgender kid

Reference image-

Woah generational lock in

I've been very into drawing statues lately

The bible quote is supposed to be kind of ironic here because Light sees himself as an all powerful god who can do anything

But he can't bring L back to life so he

like

can't do everything

Again, you think, and click to replay.

Every time: the plunge, the prolonged twitching of the hand within the bag, the withdrawal. A robber dies in an alley in Kyoto without surveillance cameras. A chip dashes itself against the shore of Light-kun’s teeth. July twenty-first, forty seconds past eight. You could measure his muscle contractions with your eyes closed by now.

Again.

It’s ridiculous what murder investigations come down to, sometimes. A college student with a heretofore unused talent for ambidexterity. Your friend eating consommé chips. For the first time this does not strike you as very funny. For the first time none of it seems funny at all.

It used to comfort you, that a video always plays out the exact same way. It used to feel like having control for once.

Again.

This clip does rank very low on the list of evidence damning Light. Everything you have is circumstantial, but odd movement within a potato chip bag is, what, a circumstance of a circumstance? You’ve never bothered with lawyer terms. Moving on. There are much stronger points in your case — has the entire task force forgotten about Light vanishing from the surface of the Earth days before turning himself into confinement, you wonder; well, no, not Yagami-san — but this is the only piece of it you have frozen so solidly in amber. (And that conversation with Amane, but you’d rather not dwell on that.) Here: the image of Light Yagami under your thumb. Your home-grown mass murderer. You will never trap him in a way that matters.

You miss him. You watch him reach into the bag. You wish the miniature Light would turn to face you the way he did on the last day of surveillance. You wish the script would break. You’ve never wished for anything this much ever since escaping your irrelevant long-dead childhood and the debt must have accrued because you feel you could choke on it, drown in it, collapse tomorrow suffocated with blue light and wanting. Would he want to watch you die? If so: how many times?

Why are you doing this? you ask him in silence. Your only friend. Don’t you know you’re doomed? Don’t you know all you’re doing is soaking the world in blood? Can you hear me in there, Light-kun?