#naomisa

[slavas-art]

some naomisa

[the-kiss-of-wet-haulms]

Hear me out. Misa x Naomi is the pepsi to Lawlight's coke

[kiyomitakada]

Misa x Naomi 👀

“What do you think justice is?” she asks you, once.

“Kira,” obviously, “but I kinda think you know that already.”

“Someone told me once that it was kindness.”

“That’s stupid,” you inform her.

She laughs, weak and tired. “Kira can’t save everyone.”

“What does that have to do with anything?” You roll over to frown. “It’s not about saving people. It’s about punishing the ones who deserve it.“

That gets a little crease in her forehead, which is annoying. She’s so fucking conflicted all the time. “Stop thinking,” you order, and flick it to make it go away. “I don’t like this conversation. Let’s go back to sleep.”

“I have work,” she mumbles.

“Less work than before Kira showed up, right?”

She just sighs, but she does at least kiss you before she goes, which you tell yourself you don’t really like all that much.

[qimindu]

DN requests? may I get Naomi / Misa being lovey-dovey?

I unexpectedly really enjoyed this one

[puropoly]

halloween comic comm for @brazenautomaton where vampire naomi accidentely sucks the brain freeze out of misa in unorthodox but effective ways 👻🩸

[brazenautomaton]

oh hey for @puropoly and @grelleswife and anyone else to whom it might be interesting, have a SPUB!Naomisa moment I just banged out, hopefully it’s good

Misa doesn’t half-ass anything, and she doesn’t sit still.

To be a voice actress who worked remotely, we didn’t get a dinky little recording booth with one chair to sit at. We got a soundproofed recording studio big enough for a rock band, custom-built with a mixing board on the inside so I could operate it while I was in there with her. 

If Misa’s character was looking at someone, talking to someone, then she was talking to me, using my posture and facial expressions to bounce off of. If she was in a fight, I was guiding and compressing her body to get the position right. And if her character was walking, I was beside her, hand on her shoulder to keep her pace steady, head right next to hers, guiding the microphone arm to stay the same distance from her mouth. Perfectly in sync to her movement. It took a lot of practice for something with a very narrow application, learning to track her movements so closely. I was so grateful that her acting style gave me an excuse to learn it. 

Love is sometimes a wonderful form of anxiety. Love is when you could hear someone say “I love you” a thousand times in a row and it will never get old, yet you need to constantly find new ways to say it yourself because it’s never been enough. 

That morning, we weren’t recording anything. But she spent all day in the booth anyway. The door was open, I could see her, she wasn’t concerned with background noise. She’d already learned to emulate my voice from recordings, what few I could find, so she could sound like me when she interpreted for me. But that day, she was listening to recordings of herself. Her own words; she’d repeat them back in varying tones and pitches with a furrowed brow and look of deep concentration. 

I didn’t disturb her, or ask what she was doing -- if she wanted it to be a dramatic reveal I wasn’t going to try and spoil it. I just worked on my own “L” things, which included absolutely nothing of consequence. At lunch she was clearly chipper and eager and squirming about what she was going to do, but didn’t say anything about it. It wasn’t until after dinner, after sunset, that I found out. 

I hadn’t even done a grand romantic gesture or anything. I was just asking if she wanted to use the Playstation, and I wrote out a note to that effect. Purely utilitarian, not a love letter, not something to be gushed about with longing gazes. 

“//DO YOU WANT TO PLAY BIOHAZARD TOGETHER, OR SHOULD I START UP FINAL FANTASY 13?//” She always read the notes aloud, so I could make sure she interpreted them correctly. But her tone was different from before. It took me a few seconds before it even hit me what it was, and I grinned and I picked her up and held her.

Your voice sounds different to you when it’s recorded, because normally you hear it through your own body. She’d been listening to herself and repeating the words, so she could get a finer handle on the exact difference. Learn to replicate it.

So she could read those inconsequential little words back to me in a voice nobody but me had ever heard. Fuller, a bit deeper. My voice, as it sounded to me. 

I never would have even thought to ask for this. Nobody in the world would have expected it of her. So much work for something so little, something she couldn’t even verify she’d done right until she saw the surprised happiness in my eyes. But she doesn’t half-ass anything. And love is about always wanting to do more.

[notjustdrwhoboards]

Death Note moodboard: Misa Amane/Naomi Misora (requested by: @grelleswife)

[slavas-art]

notepad sketches of medium shittiness