40fandoms: Fandom 18
Mar. 29th, 2014 05:41 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tallulahgs[Title] A City of Angels
[Fandom] Death Note
[Rating] PG-13 for swearing and references to death
[Notes/Summary] In the afterlife, Mello meets a familiar face.
Mello has no fucking clue why Heaven – or Hell – whatever, the afterlife – is a random street in Los Angeles he doesn't remember ever actually visiting. Okay, it might not even be Los Angeles, but it's certainly a pretty convincing mock-up: pollution sunset, palm trees, sand in the gutters, square buildings that look like giant versions of the second-hand toys he had as a kid. There's probably some message to it, this is the place you sold your soul or some bullshit like that, but the preachiness pisses him off enough he's going to ignore it.
Or maybe it's just it's Hell because he always fucking hated Los Angeles. He thinks he should've loved it – brash and loud and as far away from Winchester – and Near – as it's possible to get – but it was too proud of itself, it thought he should be grateful to it, and fuck that.
The air ripples and he remembers it did that a lot – through heat that he thought he'd die from – or hunger – or being high as balls – or just, so I shot a guy in the head and there's blood all over the fucking carpark and that happened, I just did that, okay. Okay, cool -
The air ripples and Kiyomi Takada is standing opposite him, that snotty ice queen face on as she stares round. She looks as unimpressed as he feels. She was probably expecting cherry blossom and kimono or whatever.
“Didn't work out for you, then?” he says. Cars rush past them. He's trying not to look too closely at who's driving.
She presses her lips together, glares at him.
“Don't give me a hard time. I've got an alibi, remember? Being dead and all?” He says it and -
And it hits him, he's lost, in the most basic way possible. Think of all the video games that are about not dying. God, that's something Matt would say -
All the cars driving past now are bright red and peppered with bullet holes. The door's hanging off one of them; it drags along the road. He thinks for a moment he's going to throw up.
“So what happened?” he says, swallowing back spit and acid. “Lover boy didn't come and find you? You starve to death in that place?”
“It's none of your business,” she says, coolly. She's wearing a white dress. She's naked and wrapped in a blanket. “As you say, you're dead. You're out of the running.”
“God. I should've shot you in the head and got it over with.”
“Charming. You really are a nasty piece of work, aren't you?”
He laughs, and if he's making himself do it then she doesn't need to know that. “Yeah? I'm not the one helping a serial killer to take over the world because I'm his bit on the side. At least I know why I did it all -”
“Because you wanted to try and be L,” she cuts in. “Kira did explain it to me, you know, he trusts me a lot more than you seem to think -”
“So why are you fucking dead now?” he says, going for the throat because he's not going to think about not being L, he's not, he can't -
The wind's picking up, sending sand blowing into their faces. The palm trees twitch and arch their backs. Her clothes swirl around her, white and gold and actually it's not white and gold, it's fire and smoke. His scars itch in sympathy. They were doing that earlier, when he was still fucking alive and setting out on the bike, because he couldn't stop thinking about pushing the detonator. He hopes it'll look like he had some grand plan, that he wasn't just making everything go boom because that's what needed to be done. Near would have everything like clockwork, like crystal and Kira'd see right through it. You need to fuck shit up -
Only he hadn't thought he'd just be waiting, after -
She is staring at him numbly through the smoke and he can't, he turns and runs, and the sun's yanked away and he's lost in a sea of bright lights and damn it, why's he supposed to bond with her, after all she did? After all they both did? He's never wanted to be friends with another loser.
[Fandom] Death Note
[Rating] PG-13 for swearing and references to death
[Notes/Summary] In the afterlife, Mello meets a familiar face.
Mello has no fucking clue why Heaven – or Hell – whatever, the afterlife – is a random street in Los Angeles he doesn't remember ever actually visiting. Okay, it might not even be Los Angeles, but it's certainly a pretty convincing mock-up: pollution sunset, palm trees, sand in the gutters, square buildings that look like giant versions of the second-hand toys he had as a kid. There's probably some message to it, this is the place you sold your soul or some bullshit like that, but the preachiness pisses him off enough he's going to ignore it.
Or maybe it's just it's Hell because he always fucking hated Los Angeles. He thinks he should've loved it – brash and loud and as far away from Winchester – and Near – as it's possible to get – but it was too proud of itself, it thought he should be grateful to it, and fuck that.
The air ripples and he remembers it did that a lot – through heat that he thought he'd die from – or hunger – or being high as balls – or just, so I shot a guy in the head and there's blood all over the fucking carpark and that happened, I just did that, okay. Okay, cool -
The air ripples and Kiyomi Takada is standing opposite him, that snotty ice queen face on as she stares round. She looks as unimpressed as he feels. She was probably expecting cherry blossom and kimono or whatever.
“Didn't work out for you, then?” he says. Cars rush past them. He's trying not to look too closely at who's driving.
She presses her lips together, glares at him.
“Don't give me a hard time. I've got an alibi, remember? Being dead and all?” He says it and -
And it hits him, he's lost, in the most basic way possible. Think of all the video games that are about not dying. God, that's something Matt would say -
All the cars driving past now are bright red and peppered with bullet holes. The door's hanging off one of them; it drags along the road. He thinks for a moment he's going to throw up.
“So what happened?” he says, swallowing back spit and acid. “Lover boy didn't come and find you? You starve to death in that place?”
“It's none of your business,” she says, coolly. She's wearing a white dress. She's naked and wrapped in a blanket. “As you say, you're dead. You're out of the running.”
“God. I should've shot you in the head and got it over with.”
“Charming. You really are a nasty piece of work, aren't you?”
He laughs, and if he's making himself do it then she doesn't need to know that. “Yeah? I'm not the one helping a serial killer to take over the world because I'm his bit on the side. At least I know why I did it all -”
“Because you wanted to try and be L,” she cuts in. “Kira did explain it to me, you know, he trusts me a lot more than you seem to think -”
“So why are you fucking dead now?” he says, going for the throat because he's not going to think about not being L, he's not, he can't -
The wind's picking up, sending sand blowing into their faces. The palm trees twitch and arch their backs. Her clothes swirl around her, white and gold and actually it's not white and gold, it's fire and smoke. His scars itch in sympathy. They were doing that earlier, when he was still fucking alive and setting out on the bike, because he couldn't stop thinking about pushing the detonator. He hopes it'll look like he had some grand plan, that he wasn't just making everything go boom because that's what needed to be done. Near would have everything like clockwork, like crystal and Kira'd see right through it. You need to fuck shit up -
Only he hadn't thought he'd just be waiting, after -
She is staring at him numbly through the smoke and he can't, he turns and runs, and the sun's yanked away and he's lost in a sea of bright lights and damn it, why's he supposed to bond with her, after all she did? After all they both did? He's never wanted to be friends with another loser.
