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damned_lounge2008-11-01 03:01 am
stopcounting.livejournal.com) wrote in damned_lounge2008-11-01 03:01 am
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Oktoberfest Entry 2008, "But What Are Your Thoughts on Yaoi?" by Allie
Title: But What Are Your Thoughts on Yaoi?
Author: Allie
Beta: Nonebecause I lack foresight
Word Count: 2135
Characters: Light, L, Matsuda, Mello, Matt, mentions of Near
Rating: PG-13? Profanity and discussion of obviously adult subject matter.
Notes: I butchered a LOT of characters, and I deeply apologize. Cookies and pie? Also, CHAT MADE ME DO IT.
Summary: Landel's collection of supplementary canon material is discovered. What does the existence of these texts reveal about the institute? What can be implied from the contents? Who can out-think each other? And, most importantly, what do Death note characters think about yaoi?
“I do not believe this to be an accurate representation of your anatomy, Yagami-kun,” L said, looking upwards at the thin magazine he held pinched between two fingers. His face was serious and his head tilted slightly to the left in a pose very reminiscent of the pose held by the thin, dark-haired man on the cover, with the exception of the fact that he was wearing more than whipped cream.
L would not have objected to the whipped cream, but the rest was a different matter.
Light leaned against the filing cabinet nearby, his own expression impassive as he flipped through a volume of his own, this one conspicuously less graphic. He didn’t look at the comic in L’s hand, and beyond a thoughtful ‘hm,’ he didn’t react to what L might have intended as a taunt. If he showed defensiveness, L would assume that he was overcompensating for one of nature’s cruel slights, and Light was not going to be provoked into comparing anything more than skill and intellect. Besides, he knew exactly what L was looking for, and it wasn’t an ego boost. Unfortunately, there was no way to keep the detective from paging through the stack. Instead, Light paged ahead in his own volume, searching for incriminating details.
“It seems as though Misa-san is very talented as well,” L continued. The glowing circle of his flashlight’s beam rested on the scantily clad figure of the blond actress in exactly the same way thousands of teenage boys’ eyes did every day, and L placed the open magazine on a stack of others to pres his thumbnail to his teeth in thought. “Does it upset you to see her doing such things with me?”
Light stepped forward and picked up the comic, noting the image L had left exposed. “Misa is an adult,” he pointed out as he flipped through the remaining pages. They contained nothing explicit about the death note, though they contained plenty of explicit images concerning pretty much everything else. Indeed, the representation was a little generous. Light closed the book and took the next one from the stack.
“I don’t…maybe we shouldn’t look at these,” stammered a voice from the corner. Matsuda was putting genuine effort into not staring at a cover featuring Misa and Sayu, but he was failing miserably. His cheeks were flushed pink, and small beads of sweat stood out on his forehead. He reached out for the magazine and turned it over, intending to protect the two girls’ forbidden love from prying eyes but instead finding an image of himself in paisley swim trunks. Matsuda coughed and backed away slowly.
“These are teenage fantasy magazines, Matsuda-san,” L said. “There is nothing unnatural about their existence.”
“But they’re...”
“They’re potential evidence,” L finished.
Light was silent If he pointed out out that badly-drawn pornography could hardly be considered reliable evidence, Matsuda would enthusiastically agree but L would ask why he felt the need to state something so obvious, throwing suspicion back towards him. The best course of action was to wait until one of the others found something incriminating, which would force L into giving the first visible reaction. Responding to that would seem more natural, and the subject already distressed Matsuda enough that he’d be easily distracted.
For long, silent moments, L and Light both turned pages with the indifferent speed of someone looking up a telephone number. Matsuda, however, continued to shift his weight from one foot to the other and look at the dark ceiling
“Doesn’t it seem kind of weird that we’re, you know…and you two…”
His clumsy statement hung in the air, ignored. Being caught looking at pornography would have been embarrassing enough, but pornography involving people he knew? Every time he glanced over the stacks, he saw L and Light making out. It was getting so bad that he saw it even when he closed his eyes.
Light had found nothing. L had found nothing. It was possible that Landel deliberately avoided keeping incriminating comics, Light considered. Based on the absurdity of most of these magazines, they were supplementary to whatever series Light hailed from. Fan-produced smut, though cod only knew why so many fans found L attractive. Even the flattering drawings made him look like a well-endowed malnourished raccoon.
The collection contained none of their actual canon…at least, nothing Light could identify as such. There were a number of characters he didn’t recognize, or characters he recognized but whose roles he hadn’t understood at the time. The comics were a wealth of information for both himself and L, and although nothing could be taken as fact, the comics would certainly change the rules of their game.
------------------
“It’s called doujinshi,” Matt explained. “Fans make it when-“
“I know what the hell it is,” Mello snapped.
“So don’t be such a baby about it. At least you get a few of the girls.”
The comics were scattered in various piles around Matt’s room, loosely organized in the order they’d been in when Matt had been given the stack. Matt hadn’t had a problem following L’s orders to sort through them for clues, possibly because Misa and Hal made occasional appearances, but after a hefty volume had connected with his forehead with more force than a waifish bastard like Mello should have been able to use, he’d stopped his dramatic readings of the highlights of the fan-produced romance between himself and his friend. It was a shame, too. There was some quality dialogue, mostly focusing on who did the dishes after sex, but Mello was in a cranky mood and Matt didn’t feel like getting a concussion.
At first, Mello had refused to touch the things at all. It had taken him weeks to reconcile himself with the idea of being fictional, but the idea of being fictional and having sex with Near was a completely different matter. What did L expect him to find in this shit?
Mello sat at Matt’s desk, his feet against the table edge and the chair pushed onto two legs. L had been kind enough to divide the pornography by character, or, to use the term Matt had called up from one of the internet cesspools he followed, pairings. He’d also only given them volumes that included Mello as a character, which was what he found most infuriating. He knew that L’s claim would have been that when it came to his own personality, Mello would be more likely to pick up on inconsistencies and details another person would miss, but it was pretty damn hard to look past the gigantic inconsistency that involved him fucking his friend and arch-enemy, occasionally at the same time.
It was punishment or a test, and likely both. There was something in these books that L wanted Mello to find, something that would require him to suppress his gag reflex (and not in the context many of the magazines suggested) and look past his emotions to uncover. Mello didn’t hesitate when delegating pairings: Matt would have to read everything involving Mello and himself, as well as anything involving other characters: L, Hal, Misa, some members of the mafia, and even one with Sayu. Mello would read everything about himself and Near. The stacks were roughly the same height.
“Should I be keeping track of who’s on top?” Matt asked.
“Shut the fuck up and read.”
Matt turned a page. He was sprawled across the bed, magazine held over his head and slipper-shod feet against the wall. “I am,” he continued, raising his hand to deflect the incoming book without glancing away from his own. It was swatted to the floor. “About 60% of the time. In case you were curious.”
“I wasn’t.”
Mello wasn’t the first to have gone through these books. The spines were creased mildly, but most telling were the tension creases beside the staples that indicated someone had dangled several of the books from the upper corners while reading. L had been through them already then, and more relevantly, hadn’t bothered to hide the fact.
Mello’s main consolation was that the characterization was absolutely horrid. It would have to be, to result in him sleeping with Near, but some were outright laughable and only the haircut made him a recognizable character. Very few actually registered any sort of discomfort beyond rage. Those were the least explicit, which made them slightly more plausible…in the sense that death by giant squid was slightly more plausible than alien abduction, of course. Would Near be given this assignment after himself, and would L cross-reference their results? For that matter, who the hell was reading all of the porn about L and Light, or Mikami and Takada?
Mello turned another page, chewing on the end of a pen he’d borrowed from Matt’s drawer. This would have been an ideal time for chocolate, but he’d make do with what he had. Periodically, he tasted ink. Better than blood from his nails.
Now confident in L’s motivations, Mello turned his thoughts to Landel. If he kept this kind of stuff around, surely he had copies of their original canon materials somewhere in the institute. It was hard to imagine Landel getting any kind of sexual satisfaction out of something like this, and for some reason, the idea that he might made Mello vastly more disturbed than the fact that he’d created a mental institution to imprison and torture fictional characters. Personal pleasure was out, then. The comics were either here as supplementary information, which was unlikely if they were what Matt described, or they were there for the purpose of being found and analyzed by their subjects.
Fucking bastard. Mello turned the page a bit too forcefully, and a small rip split the paper at the crease. Matt made a quiet clucking sound of amused disapproval. “You know he’s going to go through those after you, right?”
“He already read them.”
“Not L.”
Mello closed the book with a sound louder than a twenty eight page paperback should have been able to make. He slammed it onto the stack of completed volumes with an annoyed thud, where it met with the other abused comics. Numerous pages had been wrinkled with pressure and some even bore smudges where blood from his bitten fingernails had seeped into the cheap paper. Across the room, the books he’d thrown at Matt were even more abused: spines broken, pages creased and torn. Compared to the stack beside Matt, which was slightly sloppy in its arrangement but otherwise intact, his own books were a mess. That had been L’s point, he saw now. Another lesson to teach Mello that his temper and emotional triggers were accessible to anyone who paid close attention.
He pushed himself out of the chair with a curse. “Trade,” Mello said.
“Huh?”
“The books. We’re switching.” If he was going to pass along this kind of evidence, he’d have to leave it on every volume. It was unlikely that Near would miss the initial error, but if Mello treated every magazine the way he’d treated the ones he’d read so far, it would be recognized as a corrected mistake. He didn’t give a fuck what Near thought, but after Matt’s statement he was almost certain that Near would be given the volumes with the instructions to look through them for clues about Mello, rather than clues about the contents. Near would report back to L. It was too late to undo the damage, but he still had time to minimize it.
“Had enough of Near for one night? Your fans don’t think that’s possible.” Matt glanced away from the comic in his hand, which was quite a feat for him considering that Misa and Hal were sharing a very intimate moment. Luckily for Matt, Mello’s hands were empty. “There’s one over there where you and Misa trade clothes. You don’t pull it off as well.”
Mello lifted his own heap of books and dropped them onto Matt’s stomach, resulting in an irritated “oof!”, then snatched the remainder of Matt’s stack and retreated to the desk. “Leave as much evidence on them as you can,” he said flatly.
“How? You took away all the girl ones.”
Mello ignored the comment, instead narrowing his eyes and focusing on a cover image of Matt and himself in some kind of schoolgirl uniforms. When he turned the title page he was sure to crease it sharply, hopefully conveying anger. Now that he understood the trial, he didn’t waste time reading the pages as he turned them.
Author: Allie
Beta: None
Word Count: 2135
Characters: Light, L, Matsuda, Mello, Matt, mentions of Near
Rating: PG-13? Profanity and discussion of obviously adult subject matter.
Notes: I butchered a LOT of characters, and I deeply apologize. Cookies and pie? Also, CHAT MADE ME DO IT.
Summary: Landel's collection of supplementary canon material is discovered. What does the existence of these texts reveal about the institute? What can be implied from the contents? Who can out-think each other? And, most importantly, what do Death note characters think about yaoi?
“I do not believe this to be an accurate representation of your anatomy, Yagami-kun,” L said, looking upwards at the thin magazine he held pinched between two fingers. His face was serious and his head tilted slightly to the left in a pose very reminiscent of the pose held by the thin, dark-haired man on the cover, with the exception of the fact that he was wearing more than whipped cream.
L would not have objected to the whipped cream, but the rest was a different matter.
Light leaned against the filing cabinet nearby, his own expression impassive as he flipped through a volume of his own, this one conspicuously less graphic. He didn’t look at the comic in L’s hand, and beyond a thoughtful ‘hm,’ he didn’t react to what L might have intended as a taunt. If he showed defensiveness, L would assume that he was overcompensating for one of nature’s cruel slights, and Light was not going to be provoked into comparing anything more than skill and intellect. Besides, he knew exactly what L was looking for, and it wasn’t an ego boost. Unfortunately, there was no way to keep the detective from paging through the stack. Instead, Light paged ahead in his own volume, searching for incriminating details.
“It seems as though Misa-san is very talented as well,” L continued. The glowing circle of his flashlight’s beam rested on the scantily clad figure of the blond actress in exactly the same way thousands of teenage boys’ eyes did every day, and L placed the open magazine on a stack of others to pres his thumbnail to his teeth in thought. “Does it upset you to see her doing such things with me?”
Light stepped forward and picked up the comic, noting the image L had left exposed. “Misa is an adult,” he pointed out as he flipped through the remaining pages. They contained nothing explicit about the death note, though they contained plenty of explicit images concerning pretty much everything else. Indeed, the representation was a little generous. Light closed the book and took the next one from the stack.
“I don’t…maybe we shouldn’t look at these,” stammered a voice from the corner. Matsuda was putting genuine effort into not staring at a cover featuring Misa and Sayu, but he was failing miserably. His cheeks were flushed pink, and small beads of sweat stood out on his forehead. He reached out for the magazine and turned it over, intending to protect the two girls’ forbidden love from prying eyes but instead finding an image of himself in paisley swim trunks. Matsuda coughed and backed away slowly.
“These are teenage fantasy magazines, Matsuda-san,” L said. “There is nothing unnatural about their existence.”
“But they’re...”
“They’re potential evidence,” L finished.
Light was silent If he pointed out out that badly-drawn pornography could hardly be considered reliable evidence, Matsuda would enthusiastically agree but L would ask why he felt the need to state something so obvious, throwing suspicion back towards him. The best course of action was to wait until one of the others found something incriminating, which would force L into giving the first visible reaction. Responding to that would seem more natural, and the subject already distressed Matsuda enough that he’d be easily distracted.
For long, silent moments, L and Light both turned pages with the indifferent speed of someone looking up a telephone number. Matsuda, however, continued to shift his weight from one foot to the other and look at the dark ceiling
“Doesn’t it seem kind of weird that we’re, you know…and you two…”
His clumsy statement hung in the air, ignored. Being caught looking at pornography would have been embarrassing enough, but pornography involving people he knew? Every time he glanced over the stacks, he saw L and Light making out. It was getting so bad that he saw it even when he closed his eyes.
Light had found nothing. L had found nothing. It was possible that Landel deliberately avoided keeping incriminating comics, Light considered. Based on the absurdity of most of these magazines, they were supplementary to whatever series Light hailed from. Fan-produced smut, though cod only knew why so many fans found L attractive. Even the flattering drawings made him look like a well-endowed malnourished raccoon.
The collection contained none of their actual canon…at least, nothing Light could identify as such. There were a number of characters he didn’t recognize, or characters he recognized but whose roles he hadn’t understood at the time. The comics were a wealth of information for both himself and L, and although nothing could be taken as fact, the comics would certainly change the rules of their game.
------------------
“It’s called doujinshi,” Matt explained. “Fans make it when-“
“I know what the hell it is,” Mello snapped.
“So don’t be such a baby about it. At least you get a few of the girls.”
The comics were scattered in various piles around Matt’s room, loosely organized in the order they’d been in when Matt had been given the stack. Matt hadn’t had a problem following L’s orders to sort through them for clues, possibly because Misa and Hal made occasional appearances, but after a hefty volume had connected with his forehead with more force than a waifish bastard like Mello should have been able to use, he’d stopped his dramatic readings of the highlights of the fan-produced romance between himself and his friend. It was a shame, too. There was some quality dialogue, mostly focusing on who did the dishes after sex, but Mello was in a cranky mood and Matt didn’t feel like getting a concussion.
At first, Mello had refused to touch the things at all. It had taken him weeks to reconcile himself with the idea of being fictional, but the idea of being fictional and having sex with Near was a completely different matter. What did L expect him to find in this shit?
Mello sat at Matt’s desk, his feet against the table edge and the chair pushed onto two legs. L had been kind enough to divide the pornography by character, or, to use the term Matt had called up from one of the internet cesspools he followed, pairings. He’d also only given them volumes that included Mello as a character, which was what he found most infuriating. He knew that L’s claim would have been that when it came to his own personality, Mello would be more likely to pick up on inconsistencies and details another person would miss, but it was pretty damn hard to look past the gigantic inconsistency that involved him fucking his friend and arch-enemy, occasionally at the same time.
It was punishment or a test, and likely both. There was something in these books that L wanted Mello to find, something that would require him to suppress his gag reflex (and not in the context many of the magazines suggested) and look past his emotions to uncover. Mello didn’t hesitate when delegating pairings: Matt would have to read everything involving Mello and himself, as well as anything involving other characters: L, Hal, Misa, some members of the mafia, and even one with Sayu. Mello would read everything about himself and Near. The stacks were roughly the same height.
“Should I be keeping track of who’s on top?” Matt asked.
“Shut the fuck up and read.”
Matt turned a page. He was sprawled across the bed, magazine held over his head and slipper-shod feet against the wall. “I am,” he continued, raising his hand to deflect the incoming book without glancing away from his own. It was swatted to the floor. “About 60% of the time. In case you were curious.”
“I wasn’t.”
Mello wasn’t the first to have gone through these books. The spines were creased mildly, but most telling were the tension creases beside the staples that indicated someone had dangled several of the books from the upper corners while reading. L had been through them already then, and more relevantly, hadn’t bothered to hide the fact.
Mello’s main consolation was that the characterization was absolutely horrid. It would have to be, to result in him sleeping with Near, but some were outright laughable and only the haircut made him a recognizable character. Very few actually registered any sort of discomfort beyond rage. Those were the least explicit, which made them slightly more plausible…in the sense that death by giant squid was slightly more plausible than alien abduction, of course. Would Near be given this assignment after himself, and would L cross-reference their results? For that matter, who the hell was reading all of the porn about L and Light, or Mikami and Takada?
Mello turned another page, chewing on the end of a pen he’d borrowed from Matt’s drawer. This would have been an ideal time for chocolate, but he’d make do with what he had. Periodically, he tasted ink. Better than blood from his nails.
Now confident in L’s motivations, Mello turned his thoughts to Landel. If he kept this kind of stuff around, surely he had copies of their original canon materials somewhere in the institute. It was hard to imagine Landel getting any kind of sexual satisfaction out of something like this, and for some reason, the idea that he might made Mello vastly more disturbed than the fact that he’d created a mental institution to imprison and torture fictional characters. Personal pleasure was out, then. The comics were either here as supplementary information, which was unlikely if they were what Matt described, or they were there for the purpose of being found and analyzed by their subjects.
Fucking bastard. Mello turned the page a bit too forcefully, and a small rip split the paper at the crease. Matt made a quiet clucking sound of amused disapproval. “You know he’s going to go through those after you, right?”
“He already read them.”
“Not L.”
Mello closed the book with a sound louder than a twenty eight page paperback should have been able to make. He slammed it onto the stack of completed volumes with an annoyed thud, where it met with the other abused comics. Numerous pages had been wrinkled with pressure and some even bore smudges where blood from his bitten fingernails had seeped into the cheap paper. Across the room, the books he’d thrown at Matt were even more abused: spines broken, pages creased and torn. Compared to the stack beside Matt, which was slightly sloppy in its arrangement but otherwise intact, his own books were a mess. That had been L’s point, he saw now. Another lesson to teach Mello that his temper and emotional triggers were accessible to anyone who paid close attention.
He pushed himself out of the chair with a curse. “Trade,” Mello said.
“Huh?”
“The books. We’re switching.” If he was going to pass along this kind of evidence, he’d have to leave it on every volume. It was unlikely that Near would miss the initial error, but if Mello treated every magazine the way he’d treated the ones he’d read so far, it would be recognized as a corrected mistake. He didn’t give a fuck what Near thought, but after Matt’s statement he was almost certain that Near would be given the volumes with the instructions to look through them for clues about Mello, rather than clues about the contents. Near would report back to L. It was too late to undo the damage, but he still had time to minimize it.
“Had enough of Near for one night? Your fans don’t think that’s possible.” Matt glanced away from the comic in his hand, which was quite a feat for him considering that Misa and Hal were sharing a very intimate moment. Luckily for Matt, Mello’s hands were empty. “There’s one over there where you and Misa trade clothes. You don’t pull it off as well.”
Mello lifted his own heap of books and dropped them onto Matt’s stomach, resulting in an irritated “oof!”, then snatched the remainder of Matt’s stack and retreated to the desk. “Leave as much evidence on them as you can,” he said flatly.
“How? You took away all the girl ones.”
Mello ignored the comment, instead narrowing his eyes and focusing on a cover image of Matt and himself in some kind of schoolgirl uniforms. When he turned the title page he was sure to crease it sharply, hopefully conveying anger. Now that he understood the trial, he didn’t waste time reading the pages as he turned them.