#wammys first generation

[a-for-alternative]

Were you an only child? What was it like?

I was.

It's a double edge sword, though you don't realize it until the time with your parents is tapering down to a point, then only you will be there to bear the brunt of it, especially if you don't walk the straight and narrow... you'll be the only scape goat or return on investment or sunk cost in their little venture.

You're never quite a person unto yourself.

They can't separate you from what you personify.

When you get out of turn, they reveal all the wounds left behind on them by those you're descended from. They will say you are demonstrating all the worst traits of someone that's been dead for decades, especially if you've never met, then they'll say you got that dreadful disposition from the other parent-- they'll tell you all the things they despise about each other, try to excoriate whatever traces of them they see blooming in you and leave you wondering,

'Is this what familial love amounts to?'

'Surviving each other long enough for one to drop dead?'

I was the product of a mistake made by two adults that knew better, but they warmed to the idea of mistaking me into existence anyway-- choosing not to terminate things before I could be burdened with the consequences of their actions.

... Even still... being the singular progeny, you are prized and venerated for the sake of saving face, if only because not doing so would communicate more that they were failed parents than you were a failed child-- ils pourraient vous dire que vous êtes un petit garnement, un bâtard ingrat, ... but they will refuse any such accusations from others,

. . . meme si elles sont vraies...

You're trapped under the subjugation of two people who do not sympathize with you and cannot empathize with you, see no value beyond your utility, see no intent beyond what they assign to your actions.

Solitude, through it's familiarity, becomes a comfort, you adapt but like trying to mature in a tight box, you will grow malformed and... that kind of isolation tends to engender some... eccentricities that are not compatible with social mores.

Fate relieved me of them, but I found adjusting very difficult. Misery and purposelessness replaced the familiarity of loneliness as I became another invisible blight of society, a faceless ward of the system that tucks away all these unsightly human tragedies like me.

I would be lying if I said being brought to this-- to our- institution wasn't a relief-- for a short time, I had returned to a position I felt most suited to; high pressure, high expectations, leniency for the sake of no one responsible for me wanting to admit they may have made a mistake...

Then, .... He came.

You see, they had decided I wasn't enough.

[a-for-alternative]

There is a tenuous disgust at the corner of his mouth, subtle as a reptile through reeds, only a trimmer of existence shivered to the surface before it disappeared somewhere —living, breathing, buried beneath skin and pseudo-civility.

Somewhere beyond the reach of sight, Alternative bit into the bitter fruit of malice he had fostered long ago for Backup, refusing to swallow her saccharine invocations without a proper chaser.

For every charitable remark she made was followed by the internal renunciation that he held back behind his teeth.

—B is a brat the way a switch blade is merely an instrument composed of metal alloy

—B cares about me the way fire cares about kindling, the way the blade cares about blood

—B is a stray that ought to be adopted out, returned to the pound, put down-

The mere mention of that pernicious little sociopath irked something right on the edge ungracious but he managed to still hold his tongue, letting her compare the harbinger of his ruin to a house cat.

Backup had long since shed his performance of innocent ignorance, no longer pretending he lacked the grasp of English, that Alternative was spoiled and resented having attention divided between him and the new baby.

He is not my brother, he is a brood parasite, the egg of a cuckoo left in the nest of foreign parents that fail to recognize the artifice for what it is.

Alternative collected himself and began to consider the bed of Yoriko's roommate, "You never told me, if you liked him... Don't you and your roommate share a common origin?"

"I've thought that was why they roomed you together that and... the rumor is that Z only likes boys. Well— ...maybe the thought was that you and he wouldn't have too high an affinity for each other."

"I'm sorry if I am being too presumptuous, ... I don't even know if you like boys, Yoriko."

"... While I don't enjoy being seen like this, I don't feel there is much other choice. I'm not feeling well, B is trying to take advantage of that and I am trying to find somewhere to sleep that he can't easily slither into."

"Come in, come in." Z is off elsewhere for the night, so his space is free. She makes sure the door is closed and puts a door stop in place. This is a B-free zone. "You can have my bed, it is no worry at all."

Hers does also happen to have better blankets.

"Do you need anything? I can make a drink?"

[mapsareforbraindeads]

i need someone to explain how the hell the “generations” work at wammy’s. preferably before june 10.

[vamphorica]

MellodraMattic and Queerness: An Essay

Before I begin, I need to make it clear that my thoughts on this subject are directly inspired by this post by overkeehl. I not only recommend but insist that you read it before continuing, as I am going to be exploring a small component of the greater idea that they have already established. Essentially, I am taking the idea of Mello's character being queer-coded and developing it in regards to how MellodraMattic becomes a very validating ship in the context of marginalised sexual and gender identities.

I am also going to touch on internalised queerphobia, so consider this as a warning if that's not something you fancy reading about.

Anyway.

Mello is a distinctly queer character. I don't say this from an entirely projective approach because I think there are plenty of examples throughout Death Note where Mello's visual presentation and characterisation signifies it. His androgyny is the most explicit indicator of nonconformity in relation to traditional gender expression. I fondly remember when I first read Death Note, aged ten, and was convinced that Mello was a girl for several pages. Suffice to say, Mello's appearance is rather ambiguous, making him an adaptable character for one to project queerness onto. We will go into more depth on this later on.

It is also worth mentioning that Mello's style is quite camp. I love the way he dresses and only wish I had the confidence to pull off his outfits, but they are also very ridiculous and inconvenient. One of my Top 10 Mello Moments Ever is when he tails Mogi and Misa, wearing this:

Those sunglasses are doing absolutely nothing to keep him out of sight, but I appreciate the fact that he obviously thinks otherwise. He simply must serve cunt to the detriment of the task at hand.

If I have not convinced you that his style alone is a good hint that he is a queer character, even in the most general sense of the term, there's plenty within Mello's character context that isn't exactly subtle in how he is portrayed as evidently nonconformist. I do think you have to be careful not to equate certain traits with queerness when it may not be appropriate to do so (after all, there's many characteristics relating to neurodiversity that can be identified in those who originated from Wammy's House, and while I won't get into the whole discussion about the overlap there because it's not my place to do so, I also think it would be an interesting subject to explore).

However, it is completely understandable why a lot of queer people see themselves in Mello. As a child, around the age that I think many begin to explore their sense of self, Mello's identity is ultimately threatened by L's death. He is confronted by the prospect of working with (accepting) Near in order to catch Kira. Instead, he runs away, and the narrative that follows is of a man tied up in complex feelings relating to his identity as a 'runner-up'. To put it simply, it conveys queer grief very well — Mello struggles with the fact that who he is as an individual does not align with the expectation that Wammy's House instilled in him from a young age. Similarly, some queer people may find that they must contend with accepting an identity they had been discouraged from exploring as children.

I think for many queer people seeing themselves in Mello, this sense of shame that can be identified as internalised homophobia or transphobia is unfortunately a common experience. It can take a long time to recognise, let alone challenge the societal standards that have been deemed 'normal' or 'correct'. Mello encapsulates this disconnect well in the sense that his goal to defeat Near as a means to prove himself as a worthy successor to L is doomed from the beginning. He was never meant to be the one to become L, and yet he runs straight to his demise in his desperation to receive recognition from an institution that he could never succeed within. I am not suggesting that all queer people go through this level of intense self denial when exploring their identities, but I think it ought to be appreciated that through Mello, there are a plenty of parallels that reflect the complexities of discovering your sexuality and gender identity.

Additionally, if you'll excuse me posting two rather grim examples of objectification in the manga, it is worth noting that Mello, in close proximity to two naked women, does not seem remotely interested in their bodies, which might suggest a queer identity on a very shallow level. I do think, given how misogynistic almost all the male (and some of the female) characters in Death Note can be, Mello is notable in the sense that he doesn't actively discriminate against the female characters. He treats both genders like shit. Feminist icon.

Mello is very easy to project an assortment of queer identities onto. For what it's worth, I headcanon him as bisexual and FtM, but I know you are not reading this essay for my personal projections. You can consider Mello as MtF, asexual, gay, nonbinary — all of these identities can easily be validated within the canon context because Mello is so versatile while still being a developed and nuanced character. His story mirrors so much of the struggle that queer people contend with, and while I think it is a massive shame that it isn't resolved, I think that in itself only exemplifies the complicated nature of identity.

So, where does Matt come into all of this?

It is important to remember that Matt as a character was created for Mello. In the main series, it isn't even mentioned that Matt is a Wammy's kid, this information only being revealed in 'Death Note 13: How to Read'. However, this is crucial knowledge because it conveys the very essence of what makes MellodraMattic so great.

I love Mello, I really do, but he is cruel and selfish, in addition to being arguably one of the most dangerous characters in the series. For those who might relate to him for any of the reasons I have given thus far, it is still important to understand that Mello is not a decent person. He is deeply flawed, and as much as I like to joke that his crimes are perfectly fine actually, I can still appreciate that he is not meant to be regarded as an 'good' character, even if he is on the right side as far as Kira is concerned. His behaviour is very much correlated with his sense of inferiority, so in this case, his identity struggles do not excuse his behaviour, but they can explain it.

Yet, despite all of this, Matt remains by his side, regardless. While there's a general consensus that the two were separated for some time after Mello ran away, they eventually reunite and work together. In these brief moments, we can still gain a good insight into their relationship dynamic from the way they speak to one another. For instance, Matt is cheeky in a manner that the reader would not expect Mello to tolerate. Yet the patience in how he responds to Matt's insolence almost appears uncharacteristic. I am of the belief that Mello is not a highly reactionary character, despite how the series tries to portray him as such, and this calm composure he is capable of can best be seen through his interactions with Matt.

There is a real familiarity between the two men that I don't think is comparable to any other relationship in Death Note. For example, in the image below, Matt is complaining about a task Mello has assigned him, one that isn't exactly difficult, and yet he's already distracted. Rather than get frustrated, a response we would expect from Mello, he answers Matt gently.

I appreciate these moments are few and far between (for fuck's sake, there's only two panels that feature the both of them) but I don't think I'm reading into it too much. I think they're genuinely suited for each other, which is, of course, because Matt was written for Mello. Their chemistry is dependent on the latter canonically.

Matt brings out the more approachable side of Mello because Mello does not see Matt as a threat that he must remain guarded around. If we as readers have become acquainted with Mello through his act of cruelty, albeit as a means of survival, we must assume Matt is familiar with this side of Mello, too. However, it doesn't deter Matt, nor does it scare him. Matt is completely loyal to the very end, and while such writing is perhaps a little superficial, I think it does emphasise the point that Mello has someone who will put his life on the line for him and God, I don't know. I think you have to read that as love to at least some extent.

Mello is a complicated character, with plenty of attributes suggesting that he is queer. This only further contributed to his plot line that centres an identity struggle, which speaks to those who fall outside of cishetnormativity. Unable to reconcile his sense of self with the expectations placed upon him, Mello becomes ruthless. Yet, in spite of these flaws, he has Matt. He represents a kind of hope, I think, that those who connect to Mello through his queerness and subsequent struggles can gravitate towards. A hope that there's someone who will accept every aspect of your identity regardless, that there will be someone you can be yourself around.

To me, MellodraMattic is my favourite ship because I love Mello and Matt, and the way in which they interact with one another. It is also that initial identification with Mello, that makes Matt's character and their relationship more meaningful, an example of the fact that there'll always be someone who not only accepts, but loves you, regardless of the mess.

I think that's beautiful. 🍫🎮

[mchib]

‘We need more bipolar characters’ 

YOU COULDBNT EVEN HANDLE HIM

first of all i think this is common knowledge but he exhibits a complex and erratic personality which i think could potentially be interpreted as symptom of bipolar disorder - bipolar is a characterized by extreme mood swings that include emotional highs (mania) and lows (depression) - throughout the series and manga (i think the manga shows this better) mellos behavior fluctuates dramatically displaying periods of intense energy impulsivity and irritability which align with manic episodes,,. - in the manga mellos depicted as ambitious driven and sometimes reckless in his pursuit of catching Kira. he has a chronic case of impulsive decision making such as kidnapping poeple and hijacking a character showcases a lack of regard for consequences which is a hallmark trait of manic behavior - i also think mellos extreme emotional responses ranging from fits of rage to moments of despair mirror the intense mood swings characteristic of bipolar disorder. he also struggles with self esteem and identity also point towards bipolar disorder... individuals with bipolar disorder often experience fluctuations in self esteem oscillating between grandiosity during manic episodes and profound self doubt during depressive episodes - mellos constant comparison to near (who he he and only he sees as his rival) and his need to prove himself could stem from underlying insecurities exacerbated by his mood swings

him developing bipolar could totally be a normal trauma response from literally a lot of abuse that he has faced, most of the main characters from wammys house show no signs of like rebellion or outlandish behavior like he does but that doesnt necessarily mean that nothing happened and i think the author gave characters such as near and the other orphans way too much mental fortitude. bipolar can be developed at any age and its especially common between ages 15-19. not to mention other than it being genetic, theres a huge link between bipolar and childhood trauma. like imagine being groomed your whole childhood into this competitive environment with other 4 year olds to be the smartest toddler so u can substitute this crazy genius when he dies. and think of it like come on theres no chance all of these kids desperately wanted to be detectives when they grew up there was definitely like some sort of foul play. L is an exception obviously since the orphanage became abusive after he came and he was treated like a king basically while the other orphans mental state was completely disregarded because they were only brought in from several corners of the world solely to be his successor. in fact the first generation orphans were literally expected to kill themselves because of the pressure and A killing himself literally was not a shock at all to the orphanage in fact i suspect that a lot of the first generation orphans made to succeed L had a horrible mental state and also killed themselves which if you think about it B (which stood for backup) losing his mind was completely normal even if the way he went about challenging L was not. not to mention how he had to live with shinigami eyes but thats for another post lolol.,,, anyways yeah mello's behavior is actually justified when you think about how much of an abusive household he lived in even if its kind of obvious that the author disregarded coming up with an explanation for the orphans mental wellbeing and how it would have affected their adolescence except from the character of mello and even when they show mello they basically make him seem insane and watari like an angel . reading the la bb murder cases from mello's perspective really opened my eyes to like how it actually was in wammys house u can really understand it from his tone and stuff also with that one page hold on lemme find it

'but what if they could copy him? what if they could make a backup? that was us. L's children, gathered from all corners of the world. children gathered together, never told each other's names. but even for a genuis like watari, creating a fake L was easier said than done. even for near and i, who were said to be the closest to L... the more we tried to be like him, the closer we got, the farther away he was, like chasing a mirage. so i hardly need to tell you what it was like when wammy's house was first founded, when he was still experimenting. the first child, A, was unable to handle the pressure of living up to L and took his own life, and the second child, beyond birthday, was brilliand and deviant. B stood for Backup.'

'L was the goal of everyone in wammys house. everyone one of us wanted to surpass him. to step over him. to step on him. M did, N did and B did. M as a challenger, N as a successor. B as a criminal.'

sorry for my complete lack of spelling punctuation and grammar but i think i got my point across and also big thanks to @monards who helped me finish this draft by giving me the energy to continue and also encouraging my crippling death note addiction by feeding into it with questions and remarks like 'woah!' and 'eureka!'

[a-for-alternative]

—He takes too fucking long…

His heart thudded against his curled fingers, blanched white at the knuckles.

A tremoring ache through the arc of bones rattles silently against living wood, his ribs finding their places in the knotted ridges of bark under his sternum.

He sank into the uncharitable valleys of it's uneven notches with a furtive exhalation, one final breath that brings him flush against the arm that looms over the footpath like a darkening omen.

His fingers withdrew with the careful grace of an experimental brush across violin strings not daring to create a sound— they release their clasp around the limb and everything slows, everything balancing on blind faith as he lets go of their safe guard to find the trigger…

The stiff curve presses false promises under his touch but he knows not to believe it, the contact he makes is so fine that his finger barely shivers with the pulse of his blood...

His body stills, breath clutched in his lungs, he starves for air as the raven head emerges over horizon in the cross hairs.

Salient-blue eyes center like chipped alabaster over a quite grave.

He can still feel gravity tugging tenderly at his senses like a girl's cloying perfume, imperceptible and luring, even the threat of falling cannot make it beyond the periphery of his concentration; nothing else matters now, his focus is a tunneling vortex with Backup at the nexus of all that scarlet hatred.

He squeezes down, lets loose the first glinting bolt that cuts the air like shrill screech.

— The first shot nearly clips B's ear and he stumbles a startled half-step

Both are motionless as B inspects the shimmering stem of a long masonry nail, lets the inkling permeate into chilly understanding as the reanimated movement of Alternative's index finger silently draws back the notch...

He turns to follow the path of trajectory, the invisible seam in destiny that brings his eyes to its origin.

Alternative doesn't flinch, he wants him to look fidelity in the face.

The scorpion arm draws wider than his rival's shoulders, like the fleshless bones of a vulture's wings, arcing like death took them in midflight— It takes Backup a moment to realize he is staring down the nose of a loaded crossbow. This is not a fledgling impulse, Alternative conceived this years ago. It had laid in wake like a viper in the pit beneath their floorboards since the day Alternative knew he might need a backup plan for the backup plan. Initially, it provided the serendipity that divested the founder's car of road worthiness, such that L was left stranded just long enough to meet them, just long enough that he might glimpse the derangement in their second best... what A saw and what he kept so well disguised from their guardians. But, it's purpose evolved with Alternative's errant conscience and Backup's opportune interest in concocting poisons— Should Backup ever surpass him, he would make his rival's hobby into the modus for murder. B's insidious toxins loaded into the biting quills of this orphaned invention would enable Alternative to dispose of L and let blame fall on the deviant usurper. Backup had always scuffed at decorum, disparaged the first child for the dishonesty underpinning in a good reputation, but Alternative did not obey because he was a sycophant or a coward... he was patient.

Alternative savors the subtle ripple of delight coming through B's depthless eyes, sunless as vagrant windows of an abandoned house time forgot.

' I know you're in there, you bastard. '

One fluid motion like rain tracing a pane of glass and he's lined up his sight. Staring into the deep hollows of those armageddeon eyes with not even the curl of breath to disturb a defecting lock, nothing matters but Backup and the sharpness of his aim.

' So, you'll just let me have you? '

Alternative's finger moves into the laminal space that separates unrequited animosity from consummate savagery and when a venomous simper draws over Backup's lips— he pulls the trigger.

[Carefully folded, a delicate pink note tucks itself between the tree's undulating seams. The ripples of bark, communion ash against the blushing paper, a meek sail cresting dark waves blissfully unaware of its existence on the periphery of an expanding whirlpool, a crater left by bruised knuckles. The note reads:] "I daydream of reciting bible verses in backless Sunday dresses, brushing my fingers through your hair as proverbs pour out of me. I would shiver against your lips pressed lush and hot between the valleys of my unguarded virtue. I want you to kiss me so hard that I bruise like bitten fruit, I want you to sink your sanguine carnality into me, divorce modernity and pretend we are in some distant century, sincere and snarling into each other's skin - my muse red in tooth and claw, my savage love... You could infiltrate me so tenderly, daring my will to resist this pull from God with your succulent serenade. My voice would grow small and sharp as a misericord's blade, glinting promises of mercy asking you to slip it between the petals of my armor, all that's left to guard sense from sin. - ♡"

The early morning jogs began as a necessary staple of B's training regimen.

Victory is less about raw strength than it is about stamina and endurance, his trainer told him, if you can outlast your opponent in a fight, you win.

B defeated A in the athletic realm a long time ago, that was undeniable, and yet it wasn't enough. The envy rolling A's eyes whenever B showed off, the pounding of his heart betraying fear as B pinned him to the ground again and again and again until it was insisted that B spar with someone closer to his skill level...

Ah, the humiliation was palpable. It was an amazing feeling.

Alternative even lowered himself to a full-scale retreat, begging Roger to remove him from the class because he couldn't handle it.

Now, the early morning jogs are something B does of his own volition when he is in the mood and the weather is tolerable, to keep form and assure Alternative that in this avenue he would always be inferior.

On days like this he is usually awake before anyone else, which is what makes the odd little sign of human activity in the form of a pink note in a tree particularly eye-catching as B slows to a stop in front of it and catches his breath.

This is the tree he used as a sandbag and passed on his usual route around the orphanage. Still, besides that gaping wound he left in its trunk, it is one unremarkable tree in a sea of many. That note could be meant for anyone. B plucks it from its perch anyway, immediately thinking of the previous letter he discovered in his desk and reads it.

The letter could be meant for anyone, but twice is quite the coincidence.

Trained to be a detective from the time he was small, that glaring focus takes over and he almost doesn't take the time to enjoy what the letter is saying.

Almost.

Sunday dresses?

---------- Obelus Yoriko Umbral A ----------

Though Obelus is Catholic and the only person on B's mental list he's seen carrying a bible, he has a baffling insecurity about his bare arms and taking off the stupid flannels he wears all the time. B still intends to compare their handwriting, but unless he's playing some elaborate game (which B feels he is too lazy for) it is highly unlikely that Obe is the author of these notes or interested in wearing backless Sunday dresses. Besides, if he wanted to fuck, he'd just say so.

Even more than the hunger inherent in the delicately penned words on the page, B is struck by one thing in particular -

My voice would grow small and sharp as a misericord's blade, glinting promises of mercy asking you to slip it between the petals of my armor, all that's left to guard sense from sin.

B recognizes the blade from books he read on the High Middle Ages years ago.

Specifically, that it was meant to be a last resort - to kill your enemy during a struggle, or kill a knight with a fatal wound to gift them a more painless death. Usually with the aim to pierce the eye, the brain, or the heart.

It's a morbid way of putting things.

Whoever this person is, they consider their situation dire. The note says so itself - sin and death.

Whoever they are, there's a reason why they're hiding behind pretty little notes.

B smirks to himself. He's having fun.

He pockets the second note, and resumes his jog.

[shalotttower]

The Unknown Variable

Title: The Unknown Variable Fandom: Death Note Summary: Special was never your brand. Now the weight of it is simply too heavy. Word count: 2600+ Characters: L Lawliet x Reader (female) Notes: yandere L, kidnapping, L and Reader were together in Wammy's House, Reader is tricky: there's some sort of imposter syndrome, but it's not too pronounced, L is a little bit of a dick, explicit language, triggering words.

You came to Wammy's House the same year as him.

In your simple dress, with scratched shoes and hair cut short by your previous caretakers, no one paid you much attention. Just another orphan for Watari's collection, just another face to pass through the halls, that's what you were. Densely packed with brightness - bright children with bright futures - you got lost among their splendor very quickly. Intelligences and minds were relative, and it didn't take long to understand that there existed more than one tier in the hierarchy of extraordinary.

You weren't exceptional.

You weren't dim.

Not slow, not dense, merely the kind of gifted that fit into Wammy's definition of "gifted" without exceeding it. The kind that was too smart to go to a public school, but unable to stand out in this environment.

It was fine. You didn't come there to be special.

You came because you had nowhere else to go and Wammy's House gave you a bed, a roof over your head, food on the table. It was as close to a home that you'd ever get and certainly better than your time in foster care. You could ask for toys, books, whatever caught your fancy, and count on it to be provided without much question.

What you couldn't ask for was affection. Not from Watari nor his staff nor the other children, and you think...you think all of you shared that same affliction to a various extent - a kind of general numbness, a disconnect between where a heart was beating and a brain was processing.

In this, you suppose, L fit right in, while failing miserably at everything else.

You found him odd, with his hunched back and wide eyes and messy hair. He wasn't rude or cruel but seemed to lack the basic social graces and had this air of superiority around himself, like he knew he was smarter, quicker and stronger than everyone else and didn't bother to pretend otherwise.

He played alone and hoarded toys that he liked. He answered questions before they were fully asked. You watched L solve puzzles in minutes when it took older children at least fifteen, twenty, sometimes thirty. Maths, sciences, linguistics, history, law - he seemed to sample them all, eventually moving onto the next. Slept irregular hours, and the blue glow of his computer screen was an ever present feature every time you got up at night to use the restroom and passed by his room.

L was brilliant and strange, and looked down on you since the very first moment.

You didn't like him much.

You watched him grow into his gangly limbs, become more lanky and hunch a few inches more, a quick-draw intellect with a tendency to chew at his thumbnail whenever he concentrated, stare too much and pick people apart as easily as he solved problems.

He got under your skin more than once, and seemed to have a vendetta of sorts or at least you thought so, with the way he liked to study your words or personality. He never outright called you stupid, but you once found him flipping through your journal and when you confronted him about it-

"You write simple."

"What?"

L turned another page, then tapped his nail against the margin. "Simple," he repeated, looking at you. "Short sentences, simple punctuation. Not bad necessarily..." He closed the journal with a soft thump. "But simplistic. You should-"

"I'm not vying for the Booker Prize," you said and took your journal back, he didn't resist. "It's just a diary, meant for me and me only. It doesn't need to be complicated, and you had no right to stick your nose in."

You were never meant to be special, but what you undeniably had was the lack of restraint in expressing your exact opinions.

"You left it on your desk," L said, unfazed. "You shouldn't leave personal belongings lying around if you don't want others to touch them. And the cipher key isn't difficult to figure out."

"It's still not an invitation," you told him, pointedly hiding the notebook behind your back.

It was the last time you spoke with L before leaving Wammy's House and entering adulthood; and you hardly considered it a great loss. You learned to make better ciphers and keep your things close without letting them out of sight, along with how to buy groceries, open a bank account, cook your own meals, do your own laundry and many other mundane skills which an orphanage resident had no real reason to practice.

A chance or probability of ever running into him again could be easily calculated as zero. Special was never your brand, no genius lurked beneath the surface, no brilliance that could solve mysteries in less than twenty four hours. You were observant, definitely, and had your own strengths, but on the scale of extraordinary you'd rank yourself somewhere in the middle, a notch above average and below exceptional.

That's why waking up years later in an unfamiliar bedroom, surrounded by deceptively familiar walls, furniture and bookshelves, with absolutely no memory of how you got there, made no sense.

In fact, it should have ended with boarding a plane, you were heading home after a lengthy business trip. That's what you clearly remembered - getting into the car that had arrived to pick you up from the hotel. Fastening the seat belt, and then nothing. The timeline smudged into one single faded splotch.

You reached for your phone only to find it missing. Bag, wallet, documents - everything was gone.

That...that didn't look good.

You carefully scanned the room. It held an uncanny resemblance to your own, with the same layout and furniture. Same closet, same bed. A twin to the quilt thrown over you. No windows. Your suitcase lay in the corner, and provided no insight as to how and why you'd been brought here. Everything was a replica, an almost-perfect duplicate, but somehow not.

It smelled wrong. Pleasant yet not the way it should; cleaner, less dusty, and warmer.

You mind went through the loops of what it could be: ransom (why? you had a humble income and no significant family), organ harvesting (too nice of a bedroom for such purposes), trafficking (again: too nice, no traffickers were known to transport people into neat and homey places), a bizarre accident (hardly, the door and the rest of the interior pointed towards careful planning).

Nothing seemed plausible, and that was the most unsettling part, the obscure, unknown variable which didn't let you make a prediction. The room...someone tailored it to you, your interests, that much you could say with 100% certainty.

But who and why - that remained a question.

The door opened.

"You," the word hung, suspended.

"You're awake." His posture hasn't changed, if anything it was worse than you remembered, hunched shoulders and slouching spine, hands buried deep into the pockets of his baggy jeans. Still slender but not as gangly anymore, he entered the room and closed the door behind him. "How are you feeling?"

The dark circles under his eyes were bigger and even more pronounced, like diluted ink spilled on a napkin.

You didn't answer.

"What am I doing here?" you asked instead and pushed yourself upright. The blanket fell from your lap, pooling down on the floor.

L's expression was familiar, one he used to wear whenever he was thinking. He rubbed his lower lip but otherwise chose to stay silent.

"Well? Are you going to explain or keep standing there?" You crossed your arms and glared at him, hiding the trembling of your fingers. You both did this sometimes back at Wammy's House, tried to over-stare each other in a contest, stubborn to a fault and unwilling to yield first. It always surprized you that he indulged in something so childish and silly.

Of all people you expected to see him least; the last conversation between you happened over six years ago.

L won the game again and you looked away.

"A series of events occurred, and I felt it to be beneficial for your well-being that you stay here," he replied after a moment, choosing each word like it was an item on a menu and not an explanation of your abduction. "You will find everything provided and within reach," L looked around the room, lingering on the bookshelves and desk. "If you prove cooperative."

You felt you eyebrows slowly rising to your hairline. "Excuse me?"

"Cooperative. The faster-"

"I'm not deaf."

His mouth twitched, like he disapproved of your manners - you ignored it. Took a deep breath and rubbed your temples, counted to ten, then exhaled through your nose.

"I'm leaving. Where's my phone?"

He didn't attempt to stop you, not when you slipped into your shoes, not when you headed for the door, not when your fingertips reached for the handle. It turned just fine, and for a second you were almost convinced that he decided to prank you (a very weird and fucked up prank, you had to admit).

What was on the other side looked like a regular apartment with an open floorplan, spacious and absolutely ordinary, except for the blackout curtains covering the windows, and the main door - thick, metal, - more suited for a vault, rather than a house. The locks appeared equally sophisticated. You swallowed, and a voice that always told you when something was not quite right, came out full force.

"Where's my phone," you repeated, voice quiet and dull, more of a statement than a question.

L remained silent, with that same blank stare which you used to despise as a child and a slight curve of his mouth. You know the answer, it said, now ask the right questions.

It was quiet, except for the ticking of the clock and the low hum of an AC unit.

A faint noise to your left caught your attention, the hairs on the back of your neck rose. In the middle of the carefully decorated living room, between a couch and a coffee table, you covered your mouth.

There were more wrinkles around Watari's eyes than you remembered and he looked older, hair gone to silver. Dressed in a black suit and a simple apron, it was him without any doubt or confusion. A chopping board and several ingredients covered the marble counter in a clear pattern of a soon to be cooked meal, carrots and mushrooms, bell peppers, fresh parsley. Celery. A single potato.

A needle with a plastic cap near the fruit bowl.

'I'm leaving.'

The words died on your tongue.

"No," you heard L's voice reach you from the layers of white noise which buzzed inside your head, "you're not. And I would prefer to not use force to persuade you."

There was a strange sort of finality in his tone, calm and absolute, and Watari, the man who raised all of you at Wammy's, the man who provided a roof, and books, and games, and never denied a request, simply nodded, then went on cutting carrots. As if this, as if your entire situation, was a mere triviality, not worth addressing.

Maybe it was a bad dream, you wondered. You fell asleep in the car and hallucinated an elaborate scenario, a noir plot plucked straight out of a movie.

It wasn't a movie.

They weren't joking.

In those few seconds while your mind processed everything in a scattered swirl of jumbled-up conclusions, you had a thought. A vase on your left looked sturdy enough. Two, three strides, grab it and swing - Watari was old. L was slim and thin.

"As you are now, I estimate 46% possibility of you injuring yourself and 8.3 % of you injuring me should you attempt to physically overpower me," L sounded close enough but you didn't turn around to check. "Along with 57% probability of Watari having to sedate you."

How did you go from nothing out of the ordinary to this, you often wondered later. In the apartment that looked normal, but was as far away from it as possible, with the orphanage prodigy whose brilliance used to frighten you back in your childhood, and the elderly man who used to serve tea and biscuits during breaks.

You looked down and found your fingers shaking. The odds were...against you.

"You're sick," you said finally. "Both of you." The irony of it was not lost, no. Of all people, someone to commit a crime of this audacity were the two individuals supposed to represent the pinnacle of legal justice.

Watari continued chopping vegetables. L made a step forward - you felt it more than saw - and it urged you to back away and out of his immediate reach, until you hit the wall. He studied your every move, steady, patient, not bothered by your accusation nor offended.

"No," you whispered and raised one trembling hand, as though it could offer you any kind of protection. Your throat felt too tight, like something was wrapped around it, pressing harder with each breath. "You fucking stay where you are."

L stopped moving.

"I can assure you," he said after a moment. "You're perfectly safe here. I have no intention of harming you, unless you prove unwilling to cooperate."

Your eyes darted towards Watari again. L's gaze followed.

"He won't hurt you either."

That didn't make you feel much better. Your phone was gone. Your documents - also missing. If you managed somehow to pass that door, you had no idea where you'd end up. It could be a regular apartment complex, or it could be the middle of nowhere. "Why am I here?" You asked again, but the question held different tone this time with the underlying implication.

L tucked his hands back inside his pockets. "I enjoy your company. My efficiency increases when I think about you and decreases by 17.3% when you're not in my vicinity."

Company. You blinked and rubbed your face, fingertips cold and clammy. "We talked four times when we were kids and none of those were pleasant experiences."

"Six," he corrected, "we talked six times, and our conversations, while short, were often...entertaining. Stimulating. You possess a particular way of thinking which I find intriguing. You're not intimidated by my intellect. You are not intimidated by many things."

"I don't want to talk with you," you said flatly. "You kidnapped me. I want my documents, I want my phone, I want to get the fuck out of this-" you inhaled slowly and focused, felt your heartbeat steadying just enough to not run across the room, yelling and screaming bloody murder, "whatever this is."

"Well, I do."

Despite the fact that you've just woke up, you felt tired. Arguing with him as a child was like running against a brick wall. Talking to him as an adult proved similar - exhausting and fruitless, nothing you said ever made the smallest dent in whatever notions L had in his head, not back then and definitely not now.

A laugh bubbled in your throat, and it probably seemed more hysterical than intended. You pushed away from the wall. "You need professional help, and I need to sleep. Don't," you pointed a finger in his direction when he twitched forward. "Don't come near me."

You headed for what was supposed to be your bedroom, or rather a cell - matters of perspective. The absurdity of the situation didn't lessen when the door closed behind, but at least huddled up in a ball beneath the quilt, with the muffled sounds from the outside you could rest your head and think clearly again.

Tomorrow you will assess everything from the new angle and then...

Then everything will be fine.

Everything will be normal.

Okay.

Okay.

[thecarnivorousmuffinmeta]

Do you think death note would be significantly different if Light (or L) was a woman? So much of Light's early characterisation is 'eldest son' how do you think 'eldest daughter' would change things?

Interesting question, that's very hard for me to answer actually. But let's try.

Sexism in Death Note

L is Woman

The thing about L is we don't know how/why Watari selected him. We don't know how they came in contact, why Watari set him up to be super detective and exactly how early that happened, and so on and so forth.

We do have a hint that L was around six or so when he was orphaned in that we get a hint of a flashback in the anime where Watari holds his hand when he's a small child seemingly at the gates of Wammy's, but we really know 0 about him other than that he did become this detective persona and that he keeps eating his rivals and stealing their names/business for himself.

Given L's incredibly young age and the successor program we see later run by a friend of Watari's who runs the orphanage, it seems like L was most likely Watari's idea and that Watari has a very particular vision in mind (that L does not always agree with).

What I'm getting at is, even if everything else is exactly the same, I don't know if a girl would be chosen as 'L' or an 'L' candidate by Watari and company.

The measurements on who gets to be L are deeply weird from the little we see of them. Neither Mello nor Near seem to have particularly relevant experience or much people skills. Mello's better in that respect than Near but it's clear this is... not valued highly given a) how L acts and behaves b) the fact that Mello is very clearly and narratively always second and never close to dethroning Near who has awful social skills. What seems to be most highly valued in an 'L' is 'intelligence' where that intelligence is measured... somehow. It's unclear if this is through puzzles like those Near solves, through academics, through intelligence exams, but what we do see is every successor we meet/L himself are men.

There's a panel where someone shouts "Linda" in the orphanage, but we never see this character and we can't assume they're part of the successor program at all.

And it wouldn't surprise me, from the little we do see, if the tests for who gets to be L aren't, either intentionally or not, geared such that men pass them more easily than women.

We also see that L has very few professional interactions with women. We don't see many of his contacts, but they are dominated by cis men. The few women we see are Wedy who is treated as... track suit boobs and Naomi Misora who is very brilliant/L acknowledges as very brilliant, but we don't see them interact at all (and if we take LABB is canon, when they did it was horrible).

L's is an incredibly masculine and cultivated world.

Basically, what I'm getting at is that I don't think a female L would have been selected to become L in the first place. She wouldn't have been supported by Watari, wouldn't have been given the endless funds and support needed to become the canon L, and Watari would instead be making someone else L (as he/Roger tried to do with Mello and Near).

L might become a detective, but I doubt she'd be reaching international acclaim and fame, certainly not as an anonymous detective. At most, and a generous most, she might be living a modern Ms. Marple lifestyle where this very weird woman shows up somewhere and oh no there's a murder, guess she's solving it.

Light is a Woman

You guessed it, I don't think she's becoming Kira.

The Yagami household is a modern but traditional household with traditional values. Sayu is the sweet young daughter who is supported but brilliant Light Yagami is the apple of the family's eye/especially his father.

It's a very male dominated household in that while we see Sachiko visibly upset by the Kira case destroying her family, she never openly comments on this, not even when Light disappears for months with no explanation, Soichiro stops coming home and the stress is visibly killing him, or later when Soichiro dies, Sayu is kidnapped, and Light himself finally dies.

Soichiro is all about his job where his family is there to support him in their given roles, Sachiko and Sayu in their roles, and Light in his more active role where he can join the police.

There is never any hint of discussing that Sayu should join the police force or should live anything but an ordinary life and get herself an ordinary boyfriend/husband.

We know before the series that Light had been involved, perhaps far more than appropriate, in the police with the support of his father. He geared his entire college education towards becoming a police officer and had had that goal since before the series began.

If Light's born a girl, I don't see her getting the same support, at all, by Soichiro. Soichiro does not want her or Sayu involved with grizzly homicide cases, doesn't want them becoming police officers in homicide, and does not want to discuss the details of any of his cases (which he never does canonically with the entire family/when it's not just Light).

Light is brilliant still and I'm sure Soichiro's very proud of her, but I imagine he'd want to steer her towards some other path, any other path. Light will go to a good university, will get excellent grades, will get a nice career, and then will get married to a fine young man (who perhaps is a cop).

And while a combination of ennui/mental breakdown was what fueled Light to become Kira, I don't know if female Light who's struggling to find what she wants to do with her life/somehow be the best that she can be and be acknowledged as better than everyone else will ever feel the idle curiosity to write in the notebook in the first place.

Though, if she does... I think she'd be all in for much the same reasons that Light was canonically, and with a lot of angst as

[neallo]

29 | she/they | follows from @blondiest

caard

hi there! this is a sideblog and is also sometimes explicit. minors - please do not interact w/ explicit posts or fics.

historically my tagging habits are inconsistent at best, but i do what i can. generally speaking, you can find answered asks under #asks, original posts under #neallopost, snippets under #my writing, and fanfiction posts / updates under #neallofic.

i write almost-exclusively for mello/near. i write for matt/mello/near on an incidental basis, as well as a handful of rarepairs. all my non-mellonear works can be found here on AO3; for brevity's sake, i am not listing them in my masterpost. i have also listed ficlets (works under 1000 words which do not belong to a series) separately; you can find that post here.

AO3 Collections: (alternative to navigating this masterpost)

neallo fics (but make them non-meronia) neallo yaoi neallo yuri personal favorites

category: M/M

series: hot soup on a cold day wammy's era, no kira AU 2 works; 16,395 words

hot soup on a cold day rated T | 15,595 words

“Roger,” Near says urgently, tapping the old man’s shoulder. “Roger, Mello needs another pillow.” Roger gives Near a questioning look, slight disapproval in his eyes “He’s not making me get him one,” Near clarifies. “Mello is asleep right now. He just doesn’t look comfortable, that’s all.” Roger looks like he’s about to protest, so Near adds— “And I have my mask, so I won’t get sick.” The headmaster sighs, pointing down the hallway towards the linen closet. Near retrieves the perfect pillow— not so old as to be sagging, but not so new as to be overly stiff. Once he props Mello’s head up better, gingerly moving the older boy’s head as he sleeps, he finds Roger again. “I think Mello’s room is too cold. Do you have a space heater I could use?” Roger massages his temples. “Ms. Peterson may have one in her classroom,” he replies / “Very well, I’ll ask her. Thank you, Roger.” The white-haired boy shuffles away, determined. He’s distantly aware that he's being a pest to Roger, but it's all in aid of a good cause. Mello is sick. Mello almost never gets sick, and Near is the expert on being sick, so Near is going to make sure Mello is as comfortable as possible.

hot tea on a cold night rated T | 800 words

Mello is half-asleep when it happens. He’s half-asleep, and he thinks Near is totally asleep, but then the younger boy wriggles in his arms, burrowing closer under the covers, and murmurs: “I love you.”

series: i want to hold you (hostage) canon-divergent kira investigation era 4 works; 28,790 words

there's nothing i want but you rated T | 1,560 words

Though Near doesn’t really mind Mello’s tendency towards jealousy, he also doesn’t understand it. There’s no one in the world Near wants the way he wants Mello, no one who matters the way Mello does— he’s everything to Near. There’s no reason for him to feel jealous of anyone else. Near doesn’t get jealous of anyone else. Until, one day, he does.

nothing hurts like you do rated E | 3,830 words

Mello shoves him against the wall, his free hand moving from Near’s hair to the center of his chest as he holds the gun just inches from his forehead. He gives Near a once-over, quick, and at first Near thinks he hasn’t noticed anything amiss, but then an unkind smile unfurls on his face. “Hands up,” Mello says, grinning manically.

i want to hold you (hostage) rated E | 21,700 words

Rico asks, casual, what Mello will want next, what he’ll aim for after he gets the notebook, and suddenly it’s like the ground has dropped out from underneath him, because the first thing that comes to mind is Near. His stomach sinks as he tries to regain some semblance of composure, fighting off imaginings both tender and cruel, furious with himself for being so weak-minded. Near, he thinks forcefully, is in the past. He isn’t an option for what’s to come— and even if he was, Mello wouldn’t want him. (He wouldn’t.) (He wouldn’t.) (God. He can’t even convince himself anymore.)

love enough to drown it out rated E | 1,700 words

Even when Near is not himself, he’s still Mello’s.

series: our love is god post-kira, semi-compliant with canon 3 works; 6,125 words

my only one, my smoking gun rated E | 3,275 words

[part 1 of our love is god]

rating: E | category: M/M | chapters: 4/4 | words: 3.3k

For as long as he can recall, he’s ached over Near. It wasn’t always like this, though; he didn’t realize he wanted Near until it was too late to actually have him. He should be grateful, really, because he’s been able to linger here after death, and that’s more than he deserves, but God, Mello would give anything to kiss him just once.

heaven is a place on earth with you rated E | 1,425 words

There is no blood or body of Christ, no priest and no pews, but it’s here and now that Mello finally rediscovers a long-lost sliver of faith. Hands on Near’s hips, Mello lowers his face and presses his mouth to Near’s soft abdomen. “I love you,” he murmurs, head bowed and eyes shut as if in prayer.

replication in reverse rated E | 1,425 words

Mello mumbles something into his neck, something to the effect of waiting until Near is ready for him to move, but Near only halfway registers it. Golden hair tickles his nose, and he pictures mitosis— prophase, metaphase, anaphase, telophase— then imagines cytokinesis in reverse. Two cells pushed together until, somehow, their membranes connect, two phospholipid bilayers self-arranging into one continuous structure, cytoplasms mingling. He swallows thickly and longs for something impossible.

series: marital bliss post-wammy's no kira AU 2 works; 4,465 words

engaged rated M | 1,425 words

“So, like, I suddenly realized… Near is into me. Like, Near wants me.” He pauses as if to allow this to sink in, looking at Matt like this is still a groundbreaking revelation the second time around when it in fact was not even groundbreaking the first. Near’s crush has been obvious to literally everyone but Mello for the past ten years. “Yes. This surprised you. And also me, because I definitely did not know that Near was into you before you told me fifteen minutes ago.” Mello nods, satisfied, entirely missing Matt’s sarcasm, which might be for the best. “So, naturally, I slept with him.” “Naturally,” Matt says. Mello does not miss the sarcasm this time. “If you’re just going to be a judgmental bitch the whole time, I’m not going to explain it again. You should be smart enough to remember what I fucking said the first time anyway.” “No, yeah, I actually think most well-adjusted people would sleep with their sworn enemies the moment they find out they’re into them.” Matt smiles tightly. “It wasn’t the moment I found out,” Mello says petulantly. “I waited like, four hours.”

married rated E | 3,040 words

Being married to Mello is, Near finds, better than he could have ever imagined. For the last two months, every day has started the same way. He wakes up to the sound of their alarm, surrounded by Mello. Mello’s chest warm against his back, Mello’s breath tickling his neck, Mello’s arm curled around him, solid and sure. Near has to squirm out of his embrace to turn off the clock, and said squirming inevitably wakes Mello. By the time Near has silenced the alarm, his husband is propped up on one elbow, staring. “Get back here,” Mello always says, his voice coarse with sleep and low enough to make Near shiver.

series: (not so) casual sex post-wammy's no kira AU 2 works; 7,392 words

it’s friday, i’m in love rated M | 2,675 words

Mello abandons a night out in favor of seeing (and holding and kissing and sleeping beside) Near.

love chained rated E | 4,717 words | chapter 1/?

Against his will, his mind momentarily drifts to Near. He thinks about how Near gets chilled if he isn’t held close enough after he’s been fucked, and how perfectly his body fits against Mello’s own, how comfortable it is to curl around him. It never really bugs him that Near wants to be close after sex. There’s a sort of irresistibility to him, actually, that pulls Mello in— his skin damp and flushed, his breaths uneven, his limbs slack in the aftermath of his orgasm. Near smells kind of nice even when he’s all sweaty, and he makes this happy little sound when Mello’s face finds its way into the crook of his neck, and he’s so quiet and still when he falls asleep that it somehow soothes Mello into slumber, too. God damn it. At the end of the day, this is his problem. He shouldn’t have thoughts this fond about Near; it’s weird, and not at all casual, and if he lets it continue he’s going to completely wreck what they have.

collaborations (complete)

Minutes to Midnight part 2 of Time Together (2 works; 20,412 words) collaboration with @empressofthewind rated E | 14,865 words

This is the only issue Near has with letting Mello do all their debriefings: it’s easy for Near to stare, undetected and uninterrupted, for a long, long time. In New York, he mitigates this by spreading out on the floor and surrounding himself with toys or cards or dice. Whatever he needs to do to occupy himself. When they’ve travelled for cases before – which isn’t common by any stretch of the imagination – Near has relied on the movements and sounds of their colleagues to pull his attention away instead. The squeak of Rester’s chair, the tapping of Gevanni’s polished shoe, the sound of Lidner shuffling through papers. He uses whatever he can to keep his eyes off Mello. Out of sight, out of mind. Right now, he’s out of luck.

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Impetus part 2 of Impulse (2 works; 7,360 words) collaboration with @/empressofthewind rated E | 4,888 words

Ten full days after Near had cruelly and callously broken Mello's heart over email— over email, for God's sake— Mello began to experience what could only have been demonic possession or divine inspiration. Or maybe that was just the whiskey and the wishing. -- In which Mello pines and plots to win Near back with a pizza and a few bad lies.

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shot in the dark collaboration with @/empressofthewind rated E | 8,225 words

Mello’s posture changes, abrupt but liquid-smooth, shoulders squaring and spine straightening as he raises the gun until Near is staring down the barrel of it. Blood rushes in his ears, loud. Mello licks his lips. “Get up.”

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Distraction collaboration with @/empressofthewind rated E | 2,880 words

The small pout Near offers in response would, under normal circumstances, result in the rapid undoing of Mello’s resolve. Worse still is that Near has begun writhing in his lap; not quite grinding on him, but shifting his weight in a way that’s troublesome nonetheless. Mello huffs. Near is fully aware of what he’s doing. He knows the effect he has on Mello. He’s teasing him. If that’s how this is going to be, then perhaps Mello will do a little teasing of his own.

standalone works (complete)

early arrival rated E | 1,570 words

It’s one in the morning and Near is wide awake, talking to Mello in hushed tones as the other passengers sleep soundly around them. According to the small screen on the back of the seat in front of him, they’re more than halfway through the flight, but it’s far from almost-over— it will be another three hours before they touch down in London.

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untouched rated E | 2,570 words

The storm is the only reason Near is here, and the only reason Mello let him in. That’s what Mello is trying to tell himself, anyway. — In which an old habit turns into something new.

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good boy rated E | 5,356 words

Mello’s stare is warm and constant, and the comforting exhilaration of it builds and builds within Near until he feels like he may burst. There is something he wants to say to Mello, but he doesn’t know what it is. Before he can ever say anything at all, though, Mello stands to leave. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he says. Before he goes, he gives Near two lists. One for the night. One for the next morning. Near always follows them to the letter. — In which Mello and Near form a dom-sub relationship centered entirely around shared meals and to-do lists.

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THE END IS NEAR rated T | 1,725 words

So here they are now, in the middle of the bible belt with a disposable camera and an unspoken agreement to ignore the elephant in the room. Or— elephants, plural, because there are a whole host of things they aren’t discussing. The Kira case is one, and maybe the biggest, but they also haven’t talked about Mello’s photo or the words on the back of it, and Near hasn’t dared to voice the question that he keeps asking himself: Why am I here?

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better than him rated E | 1,250 words

In which Mello thinks Near has a boyfriend, and Near thinks Mello has an infidelity kink.

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to have & to hurt rated E | 7,000 words

Five times Mello is harsh with Near, and one time he is very tender.

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august 18th, 2010 (two-hundred days) rated E | 1,650 words

Near is sitting in his office. He is sitting at his desk in his office, which is also Mello’s office, because they share one, now. Mello is under two meters away from him, sitting at his own desk and glaring at his backlit monitor like he wants to kill it. This has been their status quo for about seven months. Near knows the exact figure— two-hundred days— but he usually avoids acknowledging that he knows it, even in his own mind. Having this information on hand feels slightly illicit, because he knows the only reason he recalls the duration of their professional partnership with this degree of precision is because of what happened immediately before it began.

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starving rated M | 2,720 words

Near is hungry. No— not hungry. Near is famished. He’s starving. Mello can see it in the pronounced pallor of his face, the dullness of his eyes. In life, he could go for a day and a half without eating and barely notice. It wasn’t good for him, but he could do it without issue. In undeath, he is not so resilient.

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a hard day's night rated E | 2,475 words

Near wakes to find himself in a soft, inky darkness, completely unable to move. His paralysis is not immediately noteworthy to him. At first, as he is rising from the depths of unconsciousness, it strikes him as quite natural. Comfortable, even. With his mind still half-blanketed by sleep, his thoughts slow and blurry, the weight bearing down on him feels almost like an embrace. This thought is what first brings his attention to the strangeness. Physical affection— physical contact, full-stop— is not part of his daily life. The only people who ever touch him are doctors, dentists, and Mello, though Mello only grabs him when he is about to walk through a puddle or into an obstacle, or, occasionally, when Mello is especially frustrated with him. No one embraces Near. -- In which Mello sleepily invades Near’s space, and Near puzzles through both what is happening and what to do about it.

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grand premiere rated G | 1,111 words

Near reaches his wit’s end on a Tuesday in early October. He has been trying to win Mello’s heart for months now, seemingly to no avail. He cannot take it any longer.

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compromised rated E | 2,850 words

The door has only just shut behind them when Mello slams him against it, forcing the air from Near’s lungs in a painful wheeze. Hands fisted in white fabric, he gets right up in Near’s face. It is meant to be frightening, menacing, but more than anything Near finds it nostalgic, really. “What the fuck are you doing here?” Mello hisses. Near blinks, feigning innocence. “Visiting.” — In which Near finds both Mello’s base and a suitable compromise.

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we’ll pretend it ends tomorrow rated E | 5,775 words

“What’s happening?” Near asks. “I’m not sure,” Mello says. “I think we might’ve been kidnapped.” Near makes a soft sound of disapproval. Mello bristles at this, because it sounds like Near is mad at him over their abduction, even though it’s obviously not Mello’s fault. Shutting his eyes for a moment, he reminds himself that Near is probably feeling super-scared and vulnerable, and that, considering the situation, he may not be thinking through the potential implications of the sounds he’s making. He probably didn’t mean for it to seem accusatory. -- A dire situation tests Mello and Near’s ability to work together, bringing out the good, the bad, and the sexy.

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better than revenge rated E | 910 words

“If you ever have sex with Gevanni,” Mello interrupts, breathless and half-insane, “I will literally kill him.”

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slice rated E | 1,000 words

In which Near watches Mello cut fruit and marvels over his tender, dangerous hands.

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come together rated E | 2,175 words

“What,” Mello says, trying for derisiveness again, “are you trying to figure out how it works?” Near doesn’t flinch or falter. “No. I’m quite familiar with self-pleasure. I was just looking.” “Creep.” “I was not the one to suggest masturbating together,” Near says. “And you were looking at me, too.” -- In which Mello and Near touch themselves, and watch each other.

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one in the same rated E | 3,500 words

“Fuck,” Mello whispers. His hands shake against Near’s chest. “Good boy,” Near repeats, experimental, smiling as he watches Mello’s eyes flutter shut again. “The very best.” A small frown tugs at Mello’s lips. Near tries to kiss it away, but it lingers. He still has work to do.

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the frost rated T | 6,120 words

“So?” Mello shifts his weight from one foot to the other. Brushes his wrist against the handle of his gun, just to remind himself that it’s there. “What the hell do you want?” Near smirks. “Who said I wanted anything but your company?” He twirls a strand of hair around his finger. The gesture is so familiar that it makes Mello’s chest ache. “Perhaps I wished to spend time with an old friend. It’s been a long while, hasn’t it?” Mello scoffs. “Oh, is that what we are?” A tilt of Near’s head. His smile skews, bafflingly, a bit more genuine. Bizarre little bastard. “Isn’t it?”

standalone works (in progress)

there’s nothing i hate more than what i can’t have rated E | 22,265 words | 6/7 chapters

“Ah, good morning,” Near says, and solely from the look on his face Mello knows he is missing some key fucking information. “I thought maybe you had left.” Mello shakes his head. He’s somewhat distracted by the fact that he still can’t tell if Near is naked; he’s shirtless, though, and that’s already ten times more of Near’s skin than Mello has ever seen before. Or, it’s more than he can recall seeing, anyways. And now Mello can’t stop staring at his chest. It’s so stupid, because Near is thin and scrawny and all pasty but Mello cannot tear his eyes away anyways— “So—” Mello’s voice fucking cracks as he finally manages to start speaking, a clear sign that some higher power is out to get him. He presses onwards anyways. “So, last night was…” He trails off, not even sure how he wants to finish the sentence, or if he wants to finish it at all. Near brings a pale hand to his hair and idly twirls a strand “Surprising,” Near completes the thought before glancing away. “But… not entirely unpleasant.” — In which Mello wakes up in Near’s bed after a night out and arrives at a wildly incorrect conclusion regarding the events that landed him there.

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all’s fair in love and war (and this is both) rated T | 15,122 words | 3/4 chapters

Near has Mello under siege, dragging him into a battle of wits, strategy, and stealth, one that has him in a state of constant vigilance, ever-ready for an attack. With his dignity and his ego on the line, Mello throws himself head-first into psychological warfare against his longtime rival, trying any tactic he can to help him turn the tide in his favor. The game is as complex and mind-bending as four-dimensional chess, and Mello has to think twenty moves ahead just to keep up, but he’ll be damned before losing to Near at this. Or: Near accidentally gaslights Mello into being his boyfriend, and Mello does Olympic-level mental gymnastics in order to read Near’s actions as sinister.

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an unusual proposal rated E | 4,562 words | 2/? chapters

“So,” Mello says. “What do you think?” Near scrutinizes his rival. Mello fidgets with the chain attached to his pants, seemingly anxious but still gravely serious. The proposal is… unconventional, to say the least, and logistically rather complicated— there are at least four-dozen things that could go wrong, and that’s just off the top of his head. It won’t be easy. His decision, though, is easy. He does not want Mello to die, and this, strange as it may be, seems like the best way to protect him. “Yes,” Near says. “I’ll do it.”

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15 Totally Chill Ways to Flirt With Your Crush rated M | 3,798 words | 2/? chapters

He scanned through the table of contents. Hot Trends to Try This Summer. 20 Best Affordable Lip Glosses. How to Take Care of Your Mental Health in College. None of these were right. Near was not interested in fashion, suspected lip gloss would be unpleasant to him from a sensory perspective, and was already the picture of excellent mental health. He kept searching, a small frown on his face, until— lo and behold— he found the page number he was looking for and flipped to the article that would, he assumed, completely change his life: 15 Totally Chill Ways to Flirt With Your Crush.

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a game of chance rated E | 4,780 words | 3/4 chapters

“Um.” Mello wrinkles his nose at the objects in his palm. “What’s the point of this again?” They are standing in the living room of their shared apartment, and also possibly on the precipice of a new and thrilling chapter of their relationship, though Mello is—by design— unaware of this latter detail. — In which Near uses a special set of dice to shift the tides of his relationship with Mello.

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bite down rated E | 2,115 words | 1/3 chapters

When Mello wakes to find his wrist in Near’s delicate grasp, the skin freshly-wet with saliva and blood, the first thing out of his mouth is: “I knew it.” Near— his longtime rival, short-time colleague, and, as of some indeterminate number of hours ago, his most recent one-night stand— lies on the bed beside him, propped up partway, staring evenly. The pristine sheets, arranged over his lower half in an artfully disheveled way, appear almost dingy compared to the sickly-silver glow of his bare, moonlit chest. “Did you,” Near says, mild, curious. “That’s quite strange.” He licks a drop of blood from the sensitive skin of Mello’s wrist, and Mello shivers. A bright wave of static rolls through him at the contact. “Yes,” Mello tells him, hoping the waver in his voice is just his imagination. “That’s— that’s why I slept with you. Obviously.” -- In which Mello makes the ultimate sacrifice to uncover Near’s vampirism and clinch his position as L’s sole successor, and then makes the very same sacrifice several times more, purely out of the goodness of his heart.

category: F/F

series: what doesn't kill me makes me want you more wammy's era, no kira AU 3 works; 9,975 words

what doesn't kill me makes me want you more rated M | 6,275 words | 3/? chapters

“Poor Near,” Mello says, stepping closer and pulling Near’s head back further, tilting her face up as Mello cages her against the wall. “How long have you liked me?” Near’s heart is kicking against her ribcage so hard it almost hurts, and her ears are burning with embarrassment. She squeezes her eyes shut, unable to hold the blonde’s gaze. “Mello, I...” she tries to speak, hoarse. “Has it been months?” Mello asks, her voice getting closer as Near feels her lean down. She braves a glimpse through her lashes and watches as Mello bends her head to brush her cheek against Near’s, putting her lips next to Near’s ear. “Years, maybe?” The older girl teases. Near finds it in herself to squeak out a “yes,” and almost jumps at Mello’s sharp intake of breath. “Years,” Mello marvels.

clean cut (bleed slow) rated T | 2,000 words

The sting of alcohol is sharp on Mello’s split lip, but she suppresses the wince that threatens to surface. It’s bad enough that she lost her shit in front of Near; like hell she’ll let Near see her look weak, too.

a world transformed (3/3) rated T | 1,700 words

In which a gift transforms the way Near understands the world.

series: together (always) kira investigation & post-kira 2 works; 7,040 words

i know i’m gonna lose you (but god, i don’t want to) rated E | 3,540 words

Near’s bedroom— her tidy little suite in her untidy little makeshift headquarters in a high-rise hotel in Tokyo— is lit only by the shine of the city and the glow of the moon. Because the moon is full and because the city is bright, Mello can see her perfectly. Every little hair on her arms and legs catch the light as she sheds her soft, simple bra. The only thing Mello has taken off so far are her gloves. --- In which Mello rings in 2010 with some good old-fashioned lesbian sex and a minor emotional crisis.

it’s you and me, that’s my whole world rated T | 3,500 words

Once she reaches the first floor and steps out of the elevator, Near hears a voice floating down the hall. It’s a woman’s voice, so it must be Lidner, but the pitch of it and the cadence of speech seems painfully similar to the way Mello talked, even without being able to hear the actual words. The closer she gets, the more it sounds like her dead lover, and Near curses how cruel her mind’s tricks are. She has to grit her teeth and breathe in deep to get herself to push through the door into the main office, feeling almost nauseous with grief again already. A blonde woman in a red winter jacket stands with her back to Near, but she turns when the toy in Near’s hand clatters to the ground. Mello’s eyes are tired, underlined by dark circles, but she grins. “Hey, Near.”

series: you got your eyes from the stars 2 works; 2,925 words

starry eyes sparking up my darkest night (1/2) rated T | 930 words

Near has a nightmare on the flight back to New York after the end of the Kira case; Mello, still tipsy off of the red wine they served in first class, is unexpectedly tender.

fireworks somewhere far away (2/2) rated T | 1,995 words

It’s the fourth of July. Or, rather, it’s still the fourth of July in the United States, which is where they live, but they’re in Madrid at the moment, so technically where they are it’s the fifth. It’s not hard math to figure out what time it is back home— it’s a little before six in the morning here, so it’ll be a little before midnight in New York. Somewhere on the West Coast or in the Rocky Mountains, though, there are fireworks going off. That’s what Near is thinking when Mello kisses her for the first time.

series: unforeseen circumstances 2 works; 10,515 words

unknown caller (1/2) rated E | 3,300 words

“What are you wearing?” Near’s brow furrows in confusion. “What I always have worn.” “Mm. It’s summer, so— linen, right?” “Correct.” She wonders, then, if Mello asked the question to prompt Near to ask the same in return. Sometimes people do that. This is something she has learned since Mello left. “What are you wearing?” Near asks politely. “I am wearing,” Mello says, breathy, “black lace. It’s this— this fucking expensive set, you know— nice lingerie. I look good in it.” The description is extremely vague. Near does not know what nice lingerie looks like— she wears the same kind of cotton boyshort underwear every single day and a soft, thin bra. She also does not, honestly, know what Mello’s aim is in telling her this. It seems unlikely that she would call for the first time in five years to gloat about her finery, so there must be some kind of purpose to it, she just— “I’m touching myself,” Mello announces. Near drops the phone.

unexpected visitor (2/2) rated E | 7,215 words

By the time Mello makes her way to New York and into Near’s bedroom, she has both seriously pissed Near off (by using the murder notebook to kill half her organization) and permanently disfigured herself (by blowing up a building while she was still inside it). She’d imagined slightly rosier circumstances for taking Near’s virginity, but Mello is nothing if not adaptable. She’ll make do or die trying.

standalone works (complete)

the end of a long winter rated T | 2,025 words

Five years after the end of their relationship, Matt visits Mello in Minneapolis and meets her not-so-new girlfriend, whose face is a lot more familiar than he’d been expecting.

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leap day rated E | 1,770 words

“Just— take my word for it. It’s a thing. The stuff that happens on leap day doesn’t count. It’s like Vegas.” / Near’s brow furrows. “As in Las Vegas?” “Yeah. You know the saying— what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas.” “But we live in Chicago.” “Holy shit,” Mello snaps, “that’s not the point! The point is— it’s— it’s leap day. We can do whatever. It doesn’t count. Are you in or not?”

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wedding doves & leather gloves rated E | 1,000 words

“Don’t tell me,” Near says, derisive tone tainted by her words wavering. “You want to hear that I’m yours.” Exquisite pain blossoms across her scalp as Mello yanks on her hair. “Don’t be a fucking brat,” Mello hisses. “Answer me. What are you, Near?” “I’m a detective,” she replies flatly. “Just like you are.”

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crying only because i’m happy rated E | 575 words

In which Mello lovingly overwhelms her good girl.

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magnetic forces rated M | 1,250 words

Near and Mello’s flight back from their case is cancelled due to inclement weather. The timing is... suboptimal. In which Near discloses that she’s due to go into heat before they can return to headquarters, and Mello is extremely calm and normal about that.

standalone works (in progress)

bury us both rated E | 23,438 words | 12/15 chapters

Mello is demonstrably capable of killing, and has perhaps more reason to want Near dead than anyone else on the face of the earth. They were once rivals, and Near knows a fragment of that resentment lingers even now. She is also likely the only person who could successfully bring Mello to justice, so her very existence is a threat to Mello’s, in a sense. If that weren’t enough, there is the fact that Mello could make a fortune, too, were she to kill Near. There are no shortage of people who would pay a handsome sum to see L’s head on a platter. And it would be so simple for her to do it, so easy. She’s had countless opportunities— the two of them alone, Near in all kinds of vulnerable positions, any number of potentially deadly weapons within reach— but she’s never taken one. Despite having every possible motive and every possible chance, Mello has not killed her. On more than one occasion, she’s even protected Near. This is how she knows Mello loves her in her way, even if she has not said it aloud. Even if it isn’t enough to make her stay. -- Mello and Near through the years, in love and in agony.

category: other

wrong idea rated E | 2,700 words

She kept flirting with Near. Kept showing her the songs she was working on, sitting close to her on the couch to play her new melodies and try out her latest lyrics. Kept checking Near out in ways she knew weren’t subtle. It was little more than idle entertainment, initially— Near’s enthusiasm was endearing and encouraging, and it seemed sometimes like she might have a little crush on Mello— but it steadily developed into more. And then Mello started pushing her luck. Putting her arm around Near’s thin little shoulders, leaning in to tease her gently. Doing Near’s eyeliner after she complimented Mello’s. Giving Near rides on the back of her motorcycle and stealing candy for her from gas stations. Thinking about Near when she wasn’t around, often, and not at all innocently. Before she realized it, Mello had stopped trying to pick up other girls altogether, even at the gigs Near didn’t go to. She just didn’t want them. All she wanted was Matt’s girlfriend.

category: M/F

obedience training rated E | 950 words | 2/2 chapters

When Near first puts the leather around his neck, Mello sort of wants to roll his eyes, but then she looks so pleased with herself that it’s very hard to begrudge her anything.

faded to oblivion rated E | 3.6k words | 2/? chapters

When Near phoned and asked to see him, he had a few vague guesses as to what she might need from him. This was not on the list.

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i’m your man rated E | 1,825 words | 3/? chapters

Near is an angel, and Mello her dog, a rotten-mean stray no-one else would have kept.

[a-for-alternative]

"Is t h a t what you tell yourself every time I beat you?

I would never.

I would never do that because when I defeat you, Backup, I want you to know that not an ounce of your acrimony goes unrequited, conquering you has to be unequivocal, it has to be sincere, it has to leave you bloodied down to the marrow-

—If you're not left panting, heart throbbing in your throat, and flushed, it's not good enough, and I deserve b e t t e r.

I deserve only your most vehement effort.

Not your instructors and not L — I deserve it.

Unless I've pulled you down to the sinews of your rational sense, pushed you to the border that separates the pretense of your humanity from the animal you really are, I've not tried hard enough.

And, you seriously think I would turn around and fake the climax?

... I'm fucking offended.

I won because you keep picking the one you think looks like me."

I really want to fucking stab you.

[artificial-ascension]

Reading through the wolrds surely most accurate source, Death Note fan wiki, I have accumulated a list of Wammys kid letters that are confirmed in some source to have an individual associated:

A- First successor of L, dead by suicide, mentioned in Death Note: Another Note

B- Beyond Birthday, number two of the first known successors behind A and a main character of Death Note: Another Note

D- Shown on L's mailing list in L: Change The World film

E- Shown on L's mailing list in L: Change The World film

F- Appears in the opening of L: Change The World film on a massion for L, dies via helicopter attack*

G- Shown on L's mailing list in L: Change The World film

H- Sends L an email informing him of F's death in L: Change The World

I- Shown on L's mailing list in L: Change The World film

J- Appears in the game L: The Prologue To Death Note, the game is unavailable in English so little is know of them, presumably a Wammys kid based on name, a separate J appears in the second episode of Death Note: A New Generation, she is not out right stated to be a Wammys kid, but she is assumed to be

K- Antagonist of L: Change The World book and film

L- If you do not know who L is why are you here, also Linda is a child who appears briefly in the manga and is responsible for the drawings of Near and Mello (I belive that is only presumed but I may be wrong, I can not remember where it was said)

M- Mello, second successor of generation four and a main antagonist of Death Note's main series and Matt, unranked member of generation four appearing as Mello's comrade in both anime amd manga

N- Near, successor of L and number one of generation four, appears in half the places L dose

P- Shown on L's mailing list in L: Change The World film

Q- Shown on L's mailing list in L: Change The World film

R- Shown on L's mailing list in L: Change The World film, their letter is greyed out, presumably indicating they are dead**

T- Shown on L's mailing list in L: Change The World film, their letter is greyed out, presumably indicating they are dead

V- Shown on L's mailing list in L: Change The World film, their letter is greyed out, presumably indicating they are dead

X- Alluded to in Death Note: Another Note as helping in a detective war with L

Y- Alluded to in Death Note: Another Note as helping in a detective war with L

Z- Alluded to in Death Note: Another Note as helping in a detective war with L

Unused letters- C, O, S, T, U, W***, possibly J as both instances of the usage are for individuals only presumed to be successors

Letters with known duplicates- L and M, J(?)

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Conclusion:

1. L: Change The World introduced a shit ton of Wammys lore for apparently shits and giggles.

2. Alot less dead Wammys kids than I expected. (Only 9/24, that's only over a third. Maybe 10/24 if you count Watari.)

3. I can understand not finding a U or V, but how the hell were there no genius orphans with S or C names??

4. It is impossible for a Death Note title to not have a : in it.

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Notes:

I got this information from the fan wiki and my brain. If it is wrong I'd like to know. I'd also love to hear of any more orphans the fan wiki or I missed.

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*I can verify that that happened. I remember it vividly. Only known Wammys kid to die from a helicopter.

**A greyed name implies death as B's name was also greyed out. However, this also implies L could readily email B whenever he wanted, which is extremely funny.

***W is often totoed as Watari's letter. However, I am not considering him a Wammys kid but this may mean some of the letters shown do not indicate successors but rather other Wammys higher ups.

[a-for-alternative]

[A big, beautiful rose rests neatly on A's pillow. There is no note, and no one waiting for him to discover it.]

Alternative enters the room cautiously, surreptitiously glancing out the window to see Backup, squaring off with a tree...

Relieved to be alone, A nearly startles when the mass of pink catches his attention. For a brief instant he doesn't recognize what it is perched on his pillow, roughly the size of his open palm.

His exhausted blue eyes settle on its dusty pink petals that furrow out indolently against his tightly made bed with a mix of consternation and an unsteady warmth.

Somehow, this is meant to intimidate

Alternative never receives flowers-- things here are never as they appear, they're never delivered without a subliminal menace.

He remembers giving Backup white lilies from the meadow when they were children and the threat me felt after seeing the boy's face light up with recognition of advantage he had just been handed.

He takes it between his fingers and knows that peace offerings don't exist in places like this and he can only fathom this coming from one place, Caustic... Not wanting to give the pernicious little sociopath the pleasure of seeing him keep it, he acts on his first instinct to throw it away.

But, something about it laying so innocently lovely in the discarded trash, a casualty of a feud between inimical teenagers bothers him...

The sight of it reminds him of something uncomfortable within himself that he's not ready to recognize and he takes it back out before putting it in a vase Backup had yet to plant a specimen in.

--And, put it on the table at B's bedside.

[mailjeevasfan]

Im the person who asked about ftm reader x wammy boys and Light, it was great so...any headcanons about those same characters finding out about their S/O's eating disorder I'm tryna get over it but your fics make me so happy -🕸️ (if that emoji is available for your anons!)

thank you !!!

TW ED! look after yourselves ily guys

dn boys x gn!reader

༺♡༻

dn boys finding out about s/o’s ed ❦

light

i feel like you’d kind of have to explain it to him in detail for him to understand better if that makes sense ? after he begins to understand better, he might want you to speak to a professional. he’d be very concerned about this and would want to help, but would be afraid to say the wrong thing. if you weren’t comfortable doing this though, he’d do everything he could to ease you into recovery

༺♡༻

l lawliet

he has troubles with his own diet, even if it’s a very different kind of thing to what you’re struggling with. my point is that he understands having not the best relationship with food. he would use this to try and relate to you on some level but would use his logic and analysis more. he’d research a lot more about it and monitor you, not in a suffocating way but in a more secret way. he’d try his best to get you back to a better diet

༺♡༻

mello

understands troubles with eating to a certain extent, similar to l. will try and be as comforting as possible but may be blunt at times. he’d be so worried that he’d end up snapping, but would ofc regret it. he would apologise for this and promise to help you in any way he could. just tell him what you need, whatever’s going to help you, and he will do it

༺♡༻

matt

i always think that in general, matt likes to avoid problems in any way. when it comes to his s/o’s problems, he’d try and use distraction as a way to help them through it at times. so at first, he’d be a little lost, unsure of how to handle this issue. he’d eventually get the hang of things after he understood your struggles more specifically, and he’d give you a lot of positive encouragement. he’d reassure you a lot around eating and try and keep your mind off of it when he knew you were having challenging and upsetting thoughts.

༺♡༻

near

he’d probably do a lot of research on the topic of eds and keep it specific to whatever you’re struggling with. he’d maybe have an emotionless way of dealing with things, but he’d definitely reassure you a lot and provide you with a lot of comfort, even if that isn’t what he’s used to doing.

༺♡༻

[empressofthewind]

Headcanons you have of near?

Thank you for the ask!! He is my favourite little guy ever and the urge to write a 5000-word essay about him was SO strong, I had to physically restrain myself from doing so. But here are a few of my thoughts about him, divided into three categories:

1. His attitude towards L

Obata states in Volume 13 that he thinks Near disliked L, and while I don't agree to quite the same extent, I definitely don’t think he was a big L fan - certainly not to the extent that most other kids at Wammy’s House seemed to be. Near is very open about his disdain for people who blindly follow one leader/authority figure, and thus I think he’d find the general idolisation of L at Wammy’s House off-putting. He’d have some level of respect for L as someone who is very talented and accomplished, and he’d like the fact that he works for fun rather than for money/status/accolades/etc. However, I don’t think he’d agree with how extreme some of L’s methods are, and he’d hate how easy he was on Light. In my opinion, the reason he was so dead set on staying true to L in the C-Kira oneshot was partly to keep up the charade that L was still alive, and partly because he lost his sense of self when Mello died; but that is a WHOLE other can of worms.

2. His daily life & routines

During the Kira case, he wouldn't have had much of a life outside of work. I don't think that would have bothered him much, if at all - I do think he enjoyed the challenge of the case, and he was able to keep up many of his hobbies while he was working - but since it was such a big undertaking for his first ever case, he would have had to make a few adjustments to his daily life. Since moving into his own HQ at 17, I tend to think he started sleeping exclusively on the floor to make the transition between work and sleep easier. He thrives on consistency and likes having predictable routines to balance out the unpredictability of detective work. He wakes up around the same time each morning. He eats pretty much the same thing every day, and has very limited tastes. He takes long baths in the evening, and during canon, that was the only part of his day when he stopped thinking about the case. On that note, I also think he’s a very clean person and he hates the feeling of being dirty.

3. His relationship with Mello

Of course, I can't go through my headcanons for Near without talking about Mello. I am a very firm believer that Near has been in love with Mello since they lived together at Wammy’s House. I think he’s always been fascinated by Mello because of how completely different they are in their attitudes and approaches to problems, and he admires Mello’s passion and dedication to his goals. He recognises that their weaknesses are each other's strengths, which makes them far stronger as a pair. These feelings became more romantic in nature in his early teens. I think he would have been thrilled when Mello re-entered his life post-timeskip, if only because he finally had confirmation that Mello was safe and alive, and if Mello had lived after the Kira case, Near would have had his crimes pardoned as soon as he was officially handed the title of L (based on canon, it seems like L has enough legal influence to do this). I get the impression that the Wammy’s kids were raised on the “any means necessary” principle because that was L’s philosophy, so Near does not hold any of Mello’s crimes against him.

[beyondthebackup]

On Curiosity, Killing & Cats

[illustration: @nnenteyn-new // telegram // bootsy]

Rating: E | Words: 4,502 | Pairing: BxL

@dnkinktober Prompt: Humiliation/Degradation (Day 7)

Summary:

A is dead, and Roger insists that allowing B to succeed as L is dangerous. The first generation of Wammy’s project is at an impasse and L is - was - curious.

Read on AO3 or under the cut. I hope you enjoy!

Author's Note:

This is technically my first attempt at fanfiction not written specifically for this rp blog. It's also my first time writing L and sharing any smut I've written publicly although I'll be honest, this ended up more plot-heavy than I anticipated and it's relatively tame compared to my private stuff.

All that said I want to thank @ourflagmeansdeathnote @dykelawlight @lightyaoigami @neallo and @brothercrush for being fantastic writers/artists themselves and inspiring me to put myself out there! (And all the other great creators in the dn fandom, I will look desperate and uncool if I tag all of you)

This is an uncomfortably long stretch of silence, even for L.

He observes Backup through the cracks of his sugar-dusted fingers as he busies himself with an assortment of pastries on a serving cart, inspecting and then devouring each with the practiced efficiency of an assembly line.

Honestly, L expected him to say something first.

Backup's file describes him as 'extroverted, energetic and talkative', but he hasn't spoken. He is maintaining eye contact. A little too well, actually. Paired with that flat expression, it's all a bit disconcerting...though L is not entirely unaware that others might think similarly of him.

L gulps down a mouthful of frosting and pushes the cart toward B, who is seated on the other side of Roger’s desk.

"Would you like some?" he asks, mid-chew.

Backup does not break eye contact, but he does finally speak.

"Why are you here?"

His tone is light and mildly curious, as if L were an acquaintance he bumped into at the grocery store.

L could ask himself that very same question. He did not have to be here, he did not particularly want to be here, yet he had indeed chosen to be here.

"These are extenuating circumstances."

B tilts his head. "You mean now that A's dead?"

Straight to the point.

Still, Backup’s flippant attitude does little to remedy the atmosphere.

A, the first child taken into Wammy’s House, has committed suicide at the tender age of 18.

L is not much older than them, and yet…

"Now that you are next in line to take over as L in the event of my death," he clarified.

"There is some debate about whether or not that should remain the case."

Backup is quick to open his mouth, although he doesn't seem all that surprised - before he can start, L lifts a manila folder pinched between his thumb and forefinger.

"I read your file."

B averts his eyes with a pout. "Oh, that…"

"…Well, it makes sense you'd want a well-behaved successor. The whole point of being a detective is to lock up people that break the rules, after all."

L shifts in his seat and wedges his thumb into the corner of his mouth.

It's a ridiculous oversimplification - Backup can't be serious, so is he…mocking him?

"…Is that the point?"

"I dunno, I'm not a detective. You tell me. Is it acceptable for L to break the rules?"

Yes, B is definitely mocking him…but with enough subtext to pique L's interest.

"That depends. Wammy's House is Watari's project, not mine. Breaking the rules here does not necessarily mean anything to me."

"What?" Backup scoffs, more animated all of a sudden. "Shouldn't you take being L a little more seriously? Isn't it your choice who succeeds you in the end?"

"Watari has requested that I make the final decision, yes."

B's eyes narrow.

"No one here can beat me. They would've done it by now."

"That does appear to be the case."

"Then what? Aren't you going to tell me that I can't be L if I don't behave?"

So he was expecting this.

The truth is, L still isn't sure why he's here. He hasn't made a decision, and interacting with B so far has only left him all the more unsure.

What is he going to tell Backup?

Pondering this, L reaches for a small dish of ice cream. He is deep enough in thought that he doesn't notice B finally breaking eye contact to follow the movement of his hands.

He does not notice B's patience fraying, the thinness of his veneer as he watches him nurse the cold off his teaspoon.

"…Do you still expect me to prove myself to you?" he asks quietly.

Now, there is no mistaking it. Resentment hangs from every word.

"Do you want me to grovel?"

L pulls the spoon from his mouth and meets Backup's eyes again, brow furrowed and stern.

"No. This isn't about me."

That's when L sees B smile for the very time.

If you could call it that - his upper lip twitching suddenly with disbelief, parting to reveal the beginning of something toothy and joyless.

"Bullshit,"

"A's dead because of you, you know."

A is dead because of you.

L swatted away that very same thought the day he got the news. He dismissed it because he knew it was illogical, and here Backup is actually saying it to his face. It's absurd, and L allows that to show on his face.

B is undeterred, however. He drags his chair closer to Roger's desk, plants his elbows on the surface and leans in close, eyes widening to take in the moment with full clarity.

"You don't believe me? Do you think people kill themselves for no reason? He's dead because he wasted his entire life trying to become you and failed. Do you think it's fun here, L? Is it even fun being you?"

L likes to think he is not so easily provoked, but if this is Backup's goal, he has succeeded. L did not come here to evaluate the efficacy or ethics of Watari's program, especially not at the behest of someone who is so obviously trying to get a rise out of him.

"What is it that you want from me, Backup?"

"What do I want?"

"You aren't trying to convince me that you should be my successor. If that isn't what you want, should we end the conversation?"

L is curt, but resists the temptation to be overly passive-aggressive. He understands the power dynamic - there is no need to stoop to Backup's level here. This is enough.

Dishes clatter, pastries hit the floor and in seconds Backup has vaulted over the desk and is upon him, seizing his throat with both hands.

Perhaps even more startling than the abruptness of B's attack is its sheer ferocity. L's gasp is cut off as B presses both thumbs into his neck, just above the windpipe. His grip tightens steadily and L feels a rush of genuine fear.

This is not a mere moment of blind rage because a moment has passed, and the look on B’s face is in fact indiscernible to L. Those dark eyes fixate on his and betray nothing but resolve.

He is in danger.

L grabs at his forearms, clawing into them to little effect. He cannot speak, and even if he could-

He asked Roger not to interfere with their meeting.

L is here out of curiosity.

Curiosity and perhaps, deep down, a small (and obviously misguided) sense of responsibility for this place and the orphans raised in it.

Honestly, he prefers not to think about it much.

But A is dead, and Roger insists that allowing B to succeed as L is dangerous.

The first generation of Wammy’s project is at an impasse and L is - was - curious.

It's not that he never considered the possibility of an outburst. That would be understandable, warranted even. L asked Roger not to interfere with this meeting because if B had something to say to him, he wanted to hear it.

But this is different.

L struggles and B draws closer, forcing him to shrink back, sink deeper into Roger's leather armchair. It wounds his ego to be caught so off guard, but L can't even remember the last time he was touched by someone other than Watari.

He spends much of his time isolated from others, and even when he isn't, no one would dare violate his personal space like this.

It isn't just the violence that is alien, the danger, but his touch, and L finds himself paralyzed by it all. Frozen by the fact that B is smiling again, and this time, he seems genuinely happy.

"This is what I want, L," Backup sighs. "That look on your face."

Dread settles into the pit in L's chest and he steels himself to kick at B as hard as he can. It takes more than a few attempts to knock him off balance, but he manages, and with some distance between them, L scrambles out of the armchair.

B is fast, L is flexible, B is strong, L is stubborn.

As B grabs L by the hem of his shirt, L turns to take another swing at him, and in the fray the two of them are sent tumbling to the ground.

So begins the undignified floor wrestling match between two young geniuses.

...Unfortunately, it appears B is the better of the two at wrestling.

L manages to knock the breath out of B more than once, but it makes little difference. He finds himself pinned underneath Backup's oppressive weight while he snickers like a child at play.

"Shhh...relax. Relax! Just stay there! Stay there. I realized something important. I won't hurt you. Calm down. Listen."

"What, Backup?" L snaps as he drops his hands, exasperated.

B grins impishly at him.

"You're a disappointment!"

L stares at Backup in utter disbelief.

"Me?"

"Now that I've met you, I know my entire life has been a waste of time!"

L's stomach drops as he assures himself these are only provocations. Why else would Backup be so gratingly cheerful about it?

"I wasted it trying to become you. A died trying to become you.

But you're just a loser! Another worthless human being! You're weak, you're pathetic, and worst of all, you're boring!

World's Greatest Detective. You!? Are you serious!? Look at you!!"

L stiffens and braces himself to shove B off. He doesn't need to listen to this, Backup is obviously the kind of person that takes pleasure in spite, this is fun for him, this is a waste of time-

"A was better than you, you know," he goes on, voice dripping with contempt. "I actually respected him. I bet everyone was hoping you would die so he could replace you. Too bad."

Backup lowers himself down onto his elbows and cups his hands around L’s face, relishing in it when he feels him flinch.

How many people have seen L like this?

His sneer has vanished. L does not move - he is fighting panic, fighting his racing heart and the goosebumps dotting his skin, he is fighting the confusion that follows the intimacy of skin-on-skin poisoned by the malice on B's tongue.

B's heartbeat is equally frantic, but it doesn't show on his face. L is not nearly as skilled as B in this regard and finds himself all too conscious of his own labored breathing.

"You were my entire life," he says. “I spent all this time waiting for you, thinking of you...only for you to be like this. A died because he wasn't good enough. And now you're here to tell me I’m not good enough."

"No."

"Do you think your life is worth more than all of our lives combined?"

"I never said that."

"You said this isn't about you, but that's not true, is it?

My life has always been about you. A's, too. You're the reason why this place exists. Why I exist.

I exist because you're not good enough, either.

No matter how many cases you solve, you're no different from me. You're a tool. An object. You exist to be used.

That's why you're what...20? And Watari already has an entire orphanage of kids ready to take your place when you die! He doesn't believe in you either."

"That's enough," L cannot take it anymore, he cannot listen to another second of this, he cannot spend another moment on this floor pinned under him, being touched by him, his skin is crawling and he cannot breathe and the air is hot and his stomach is tight and he feels his heartbeat in all the wrong places.

L wills himself to snap out of it, he needs to get B off of him before-

Abruptly, B sits up and directly on top of

"-!? Do you have an erection!?"

B exclaims as if he doesn't know the meaning of the word and all the color drains from L's face.

Do not dignify that with a response. It is involuntary and nothing to be ashamed of.

"Is this turning you on?"

"No."

B bursts into a fit of cruel laughter and L only tenses underneath him, awash with humiliation. L does not often care what others think of him, but he has never felt like this before, so utterly degraded by someone who should respect him, and he's laughing at him, at his- why does he have an erection?

"No?" B echoes. "What's this?" Sliding easily down his thighs, L jerks back from his hand when he feels it rest on the crotch of his jeans.

"I knew it! You're a pervert!"

"And what does that make you, exactly?" L hits back.

"This isn't about me," B draws out L's own line. "Why are you so easy, anyway...? Oh! I get it - I bet no one's ever touched you, besides that disgusting old man. Why would they?"

It's amazing how that talkativeness of his rears its ugly head in a situation like this.

"You're a virgin, aren't you? You're probably touch starved...even though you're older than me and rich and everything. Aww, it must be so lonely being L!"

“Get off of me," L hisses.

"You sure that's what you want?"

With a sharp exhale through his nose, L squeezes his eyes shut for a moment...for just a single moment of peace. He needs to think, he needs to move, and he needs to never admit that B is right and he isn't sure if that's what he wants, because he is excited by this.

He doesn't have the time to intellectualize it. He can break his rule and call for Roger. He can shove B off of him. He can stop this, he could've avoided this entirely had he smothered that curiosity, taken the file at its word and never met one of his so-called successors.

L can feel B's gaze burning through him, but at least he's not talking in that perpetually amused voice and at least he can't see that sadistic excuse for a smile. There is something wrong with B and there is something wrong with him for feeling like this is the first time in a long time someone has managed to surprise or challenge him.

He doesn't have the time to intellectualize it and therefore doesn't have time to convince himself that this is wrong.

It is wrong that he feels relief when B does not wait for him to answer and dips his slender fingers past the waistband of his jeans. Again, he only rests his hand against L's growing arousal. He does not provide any friction, does not move.

It takes all of L's willpower to fight an upward twitch of his hips, the weight and warmth of Backup's touch promising pleasure and yet refusing to follow through.

"Oh, L..." B hums. "You are just a man, after all."

The World's Greatest detective pinned underneath him, shirt inched up past his navel in the fray, so clearly out of his depth. And it was easy. So fucking easy.

"Is this the one thing Watari won't do for you?"

B delights in watching the pink flush crawl up the back of L's neck to his cheekbones, that jaw set so tight he just knows he is gritting his teeth. He can't even look at him, turning his head to the side as if B would ever let him off that easy.

"Look at me," B says sweetly.

L does not.

"I said, look at me," B grabs L by the chin and forces him face forward. He suddenly takes L's clothed erection into a light grip, wringing a quiet gasp out of him. The detective's eyes snap open to glare at Backup with equal parts resentment and desperation, filling B with a deep and twisted satisfaction. He knows that look all too well.

"Do you hate me, L?" he asks, eyes softening with something resembling infatuation. It makes L all the more confused and uncomfortable and frustrated that B will not just get this over with.

Over the course of this conversation, L has learned at least one thing about Backup. Responding in the affirmative is likely what he wants.

This whole thing must have been to get a rise out of him, and L is playing right into his hands.

Because he's...enjoying it.

"I have no reason to hate you, Backup. I have no reason to feel any particular way about you at all,"

His assumption is proved correct when B immediately digs his nails into L's jaw.

"Your dick disagrees."

"It's involuntary."

B's grip on L's erection slacks again. "You don't want me to touch you?"

L's glare darkens.

"Say it."

L curls his toes, wondering if it would be enough to clamp his thighs around B's hand or if his aim all this time really was for L to discard his dignity. Resisting B is an uncomfortable, laborious, painful experience...but would sacrificing his dignity, his better judgement for a single moment of carnal satisfaction be worse?

I want you to touch me.

L tries the sentence out in his mind and it makes him wince. He's imagining B's grin splitting wide again, that sharp laugh, and the way his cock will throb when the humiliation sinks in. He imagines Backup following through, apparently capable of giving him the release that he has never been interested in seeking out until now.

This has awakened something in him. The wrongness of it all is what makes L want it, and he isn't sure if anything will ever feel quite this wrong again.

What's that saying? Curiosity killed the cat?

L will never see this cat again. Not ever.

Does it really matter if he makes a mistake now?

L sucks in air through his teeth and finally, recklessly relents.

"I want you to touch me," he mumbles with just enough conviction as to not feel entirely pathetic, to allow himself some illusion that he is in fact in control.

"...You fucking pervert," B giggles. "I didn't actually think you'd say it. You're shameless, that's so gross..."

Even so, it seems to do the trick. B massages him slowly through his underwear, free hand finally releasing his jaw to take a fistful of L's hair and yank his head back.

"I'm barely 18, what is wrong with you?"

"That's not-!"

"Shut up," B palms him with more intention. He can feel L twitching around his fingers as he pulls the fabric around his length, pleasures him with the barrier that exists between him and what he actually wants.

"Hhn-" With all pretext shattered, L slowly lets go. This friction is not nearly enough or he wouldn't be squirming like this, chewing down on his tongue wishing Backup would just get on with it already.

"Aren't there cameras in here? What will the old man think of you?"

"Just get on with it..." L sighs with marked frustration.

"I was trying to give you plausible deniability by only going this far. You'll have to say please if you want me to actually touch the hard-on you got from being degraded by me."

"You are ridiculous," L seethes.

Plausible deniability. Right.

"I assure you I'm quite serious. Having your successor get you off is going to be your fault."

"My fault? I'm not the one who started this."

"You're going to blame me? Even when our power dynamic is like this? You're not a good person at all, L. You can't take responsibility for anything."

Another ragged sigh interrupts L's retort as B gropes his cock, offering him delicious pressure and friction but refusing to give up on the tease...until he feels a wet spot growing, at least.

B wets his lip with his tongue. "I don't think I even have to go any farther. Treating you like the garbage you are and just a little bit of attention is all it takes."

"Please," L forces out.

"Please what?"

"More. Please just...touch me more."

"It's not enough?"

"No."

"Okay, I'll do what you say. I'm obsessed with you after all."

True to his word, Backup releases L and pulls his jeans and underwear down past his hips, exposing L's straining, leaking cock for the both of them to see.

"You just said that I was worthless."

"You are. I hate you more than anything, and nothing would make me happier than watching you suffer. That's the kind of person that's going to get you off for the first time, L. And I'm doing it not because I want you back, but because I know you'll never forget it..."

B finally wraps his hand around L's erection and of course he is lying about not wanting it, he wants this desperately, he is coming undone inside in ways that L could never imagine, because he does not know him.

He has nothing to do with him.

Hatred, lust and love are not all that different after all.

L tries to quiet his mind, to avoid internalizing anything B is saying. For whatever reason being spoken to like this and treated like this is the most arousing thing L has ever personally experienced, and he should treat this as something being done in service of him.

That's what it really is. It has to be.

At the end of the day, no matter what B said, he would still be B and L would still be L.

B leans in close, still stroking L all too slowly, too lightly, and yet it is enough to force unsightly little mewls from L's lips. He shudders when he feels Backup's lips pressed against the shell of his ear.

"I want you to remember this feeling, L," he whispers.

L swallows hard and bucks up to meet B's movements.

"I want you to remember how desperate and helpless and low you feel right now, and I want you to remember it was me that made you feel this way."

The friction is maddening. So simple and yet so intense. L feels his inner voice quieting, fading, he feels dangerously human, dangerously like simple flesh, like B said, just a man...not the world's greatest anything.

"No one is ever going to care about you as much as I do. I thought of you constantly for ten years. Yet now that I know you...I despise you."

L is panting as B fists his cock, speaking with such vitriol as to be certain L could not fool himself into thinking it was an act.

"I despise you so much. You make me sick. And you're getting off on that? Off on my misery..."

"N-no-"

"You are. I know because I got off on A's misery, and I'm getting off on yours, too. I know exactly the kind of person you are.

Depraved. Disgusting. Fucked in the head. You hide behind your title and the law so no one ever finds out you're just a pathetic fucking cock-sucking degenerate that would be better off dead!"

L groans deeply and hates himself for it. He doesn't understand himself, he doesn't understand this, why every word is pulsing through L's hips like lightning, why it feels so good to be reduced to this when most of his life, his efforts only earned him universal praise.

"What would Watari think if he saw you right now, L? He'd be so disappointed in you. Why would you do something like this? It's inappropriate, it's dangerous, you were warned, right? Don't you know better?"

"Stop...stop saying his name..."

"Don't you know better, L? Say it."

"I-I know better..."

"So why are you doing this?"

"I...don't know-!" L cries out in frustration, moans rolling out of him in choked out intervals. The pleasure is piercing him, becoming unbearable, mutating into something frightening, something about to burst.

"Tell me why!" B demands, releasing L altogether. At this stage, he can't bear it, and the levy breaks.

"Because I'm a pervert! I'm disgusting and I'm pathetic and I want you to touch me, you're right about me, B! You're right..." L whines. "Please don't stop, I can't take it anymore..."

This wipes the smile off B's face which makes it all the more painful...he is staring at L incredulously and for the first time L becomes aware that B is also panting, his skin is just as hot.

He presses his forehead against L's and stares at him in silence for a few beats. It drives a vicious chill up his spine and he knows, deep deep down,

even if he never saw B again,

he's made a terrible mistake.

"I'll never let you forget about me, L."

And so he reaches back between L's thighs for the final time with no intention of holding back.

L jerks under him, thighs trembling as B swirls his thumb over his sensitive head.

"Keep your eyes open, slut."

Even as his mouth hangs open, moaning freely to keep B from becoming restless enough to return to his teasing, it's not enough.

Backup is so focused on him, so unwilling to look away that L is forced to endure the intimacy of sustained eye contact while he is this vulnerable. He feels stripped bare, like Backup is staring right through him.

No one should see him so unguarded, especially never someone like him, yet he obeys, he obeys and lets B see everything, his drawn-out groans as his orgasm creeps up on him, the drool beading at the corner of his mouth, the hopeless lust in his tired eyes.

He feels humiliated. Degraded. Disgusting. But most of all, he feels alive.

All thoughts cease as L arches his back and white hot satisfaction washes over his entire body. He reaches for B's forearms, gripping onto him as he cums hard all over his hand, an undignified mess left behind on the both of them, proof that it happened.

Undeniable.

B lets out a shaky breath and watches L sink into the floor with wide eyes. The memory and the image burning into his psyche where it would never leave him. Where it strengthened his result to become a murderer

and destroy L.

L would never forget this feeling, but neither would B.

With A dead, his new purpose in life is clear.

He will be the one to make L grovel.

B is still lost in thought when L reluctantly opens his eyes to face the aftermath. Luckily for him, B is not looking back at him but at his own hand.

L is confused until Backup sticks his cum-covered fingers into his mouth and begins to suck them clean-

No. L has to get out of here right now before this gets any worse.

Fine, Backup. You win.

I'll break my rule.

"Roger!!!" L shouts at the top of his lungs.

[mapsareforbraindeads]

i’m literally about to go to sleep but i started thinking about L. more specifically L in my longfics.

i’ve realized that, even if they’re in drastically different situations, L in habromania and L in true successor are still the same character. light, misa, matsuda, and literally everyone else was changed, but L wasn’t.

so, i raise you this: habromania is the timeline where ryuk never lost the bet. L never died, beyond never got broken out of prison, and the kira case hit a dead end due to L’s lack of motivation. then, years later, he finds himself with light. and they both help each other to grow into better people through the power of their adorable daughter. or something.

i want to find a way to incorporate this into hab. i have a solid idea and i think you guys will really like it.