Slow motion had never gone so quickly in all of Ryuk's life. And he'd never been punched. Ever. And it wasn't even something he wondered about, you know? None of that 'what would it be like?'. What it WAS like was....a suddenly white light, a lot of sparkles, dull pain and nausea and then a hella lot of SHARP pain.
He held his face and tired to focus on Dean Winchester, the little bastard.
"WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT FOR?" he roared. "Right. That is IT." He opened the journal one handed and tried to get the Death Note to a clean page while keeping it there with his elbow and finding a pen. "That's it," he muttered. Prick was gonna die. Ryuk didn't have the time or patients to think up a real horrible way, so he awkwardly wrote 'Dean Winchester' across the page and felt a pang of annoyance at the fact that it might not work. He had 40 seconds in which to find out and decided not to waste them. He slammed the books shut and began trying to club Dean to death with them.
no subject
He held his face and tired to focus on Dean Winchester, the little bastard.
"WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT FOR?" he roared. "Right. That is IT." He opened the journal one handed and tried to get the Death Note to a clean page while keeping it there with his elbow and finding a pen. "That's it," he muttered. Prick was gonna die. Ryuk didn't have the time or patients to think up a real horrible way, so he awkwardly wrote 'Dean Winchester' across the page and felt a pang of annoyance at the fact that it might not work. He had 40 seconds in which to find out and decided not to waste them. He slammed the books shut and began trying to club Dean to death with them.
[I had to. It was time.]