Let me just start by saying, this is not an in depth analysis of Death Note, nor is it some crazy theory. Really this is just something I noticed about viewers of Death Note who I personally know.
And let me tell you something I noticed about how viewers perceived the show, their social class did seem to take a large part of how they perceived Light and his quest to become the “God of the New World”
Okay, let me just state this. Light and I grew up in the same social class. We both grew up in higher middle class, healthy households. Despite all this, I disagreed with Light the moment he chose to use the Death Note after his first victim died. I was very strongly on L’s side from before he even appeared!
Provided, I ended up making all my friends watch it, and two in particular really helped me bring light to the realization how much a persons upbringing affected their stance on Death Note.
The first person I showed the show to was my best friend. She grew up in a broken working class family. Upon watching the show, she initially agreed with what Light was doing. Cheering him on to kill all the criminals. It was only when Light killed Raye did she change sides and began to cheer on L.
The second person I showed the show to was, like me, someone from the higher middle class. Much like me, she very quickly began to route for L to bring down Light, but that want until the very end of the first episode she she disagree with Light’s actions. She disagreed with everyone Light killed accept for one. Takuo Shibuimaru.
For those who don’t remember his name since it was so passing. In the anime he is Light’s second victim, who was very clearly attempting a rape a woman.
When I asked about why she didn’t think Light was wrong to kill him, she simply said he was the only one who deserved to die. From this I concluded two things.
1. Those who’ve grown up in lower classes, and have seen more shit then anyone should, more often then not, seemed to agree with Light’s actions. They supported the death’s or criminals, because they have seem the true injustice of the world. Really, of all my friends to watch it, higher classes tented to frown more on Light’s actions then those from lower classes. Does this mean that the lower classes are more violent? Not at all. What I’m trying to say is that due to shelter upbringings, higher classes tend to have more black and white morals then those from lower classes.
2. I noticed that the only time really someone from the upper middle class/high class really agreed with Light’s actions was when they saw the violent nature of the crime themselves. It is easier to simply hear about crimes rather then to watch it. Provided, had my friend grown up seeing such violent crime, I think it was have taken her much longer then one episode to change over to L’s side, if she did show at all.
What I’m really trying to say is that really can effect how a person views Death Note. Noticed i said can, provided nothing is truly defined by our social classes, that being said there is a trend though, which was just really something I found interesting.
summary: you decide to wear one of peter’s shirts for picture day, causing nothing but cute fluff between you and you’re beautiful boyfriend.
warnings: LOTS of fluff, you know what it isssss :’)
“Why don’t I have at least one cute thing in my closet?” you whined in annoyance after throwing another piece of clothing on the ground. Picture day was by far your least favorite day of the year, and that’s exactly what today was. The struggle of your hair not being frizzy, to finding the perfect outfit - it was the worst day, a day that should not exist. Every year you had a horrible picture that was plastered in the yearbook forever, making you a lot more insecure about your appearance than you were before. You were far from photogenic. It didn’t help that your mom felt obligated to buy the picture every single year and framing them in the living room as if it were some masterpiece.
Eyes scanning your closet, nearly losing all hope and thinking why don’t i just say i’m sick and skip school, you land on the perfect shirt. You borrowed your boyfriend Peter’s clothes often, loving the sweet scent they had, hardly ever feeling lonely when wearing them. You had at least 4 of his sweatshirts and t-shirts, all of them stolen which led to you getting texts saying: ‘babe did u take my red hoodie????? I can’t find it.’
His red flannel was by far your favorite. It was the first article of clothing that you ever borrowed of his, being very special to you - you stole it. He literally doesn’t know why half his damn wardrobe is missing. Such a clueless, sweet boy.
“Perfect.” You smiled, holding the article of clothing to your chest, taking in the scent of your boyfriend, and put on the flannel, not even thinking that Peter would notice. It won’t make a difference, you thought.
“Oh, my god, i look horrible.” you exclaim, holding your new ID card that had your picture displayed on it, walking out of the cafeteria where picture day took place. It was by far the worst picture you have ever taken. Your hair gotten frizzy due to the gloomy weather, eyebrows looked wonky, and you absolutely hated the way your smile looked. I swear the flannel was going to help. It definitely did not help. Why is my life so messy, like my hair.
“You look fine, dude. Don’t worry.” Your friend assures you. The only thing you were worried about was Peter seeing how awful you looked. Not that he’d break up with you or anything, because homeboy was way too in love with you, but it was embarrassing and you just wanted to delete the photo from your memories and the world. “I can’t let Peter see this. Never. I look so gross.” You say running your hand through your hair, wishing the photo would burn into a million pieces as you and your friend walk the nearly empty halls.
“Have fun stopping him from doing so,” you turned around to see Peter walking towards you with a sweet smile on his face. It was mid afternoon, and the poor boy hadn’t seen his favorite person all morning. He was especially excited to see your new ID photo. Your friend slowly and awkwardly walks away, muttering something about having to go wash their cat. Bitch, you’re allergic to cats.
You mentally throw your shoe at her before walking closer to your boyfriend, very nervous.
“Can you believe she called my flowers tacky?” Clarke paced back and forth across the parlor waiting room. Raven and Octavia were just watching the Clarke bomb explode, hoping it didn’t get too nasty too fast.
“Clarke, she is a botanist. She’s just… passionate,” Octavia said. She knew Lexa personally thanks to Lincoln, and she truly was passionate about her plants. Octavia had seen how dedicated she was, even though it seemed a bit much. Talking to plants? Admitted, it was a little unusual, but it obviously worked for her.
“I don’t care if she’s the best damned botanist in the world. No one calls my art tacky.” Clarke stopped pacing. She had to talk to Lexa. There was no way she was going to let some flower girl tell her how to draw plants. She couldn’t even draw. How dare she have the nerve to tell an actual artist how to draw a damn flower.
Raven and Octavia watched in horror as Clarke stormed out of the tattoo parlor. Damn Clarke and her ego. It was a bit harsh for Lexa to say her art was tacky, but she hadn’t realized the monster that was Wounded Ego Clarke. Both girls kind of wanted to go watch to see what Lexa had really unleashed, but they knew better than to get in Clarke’s way when she was on a rampage.
They just hoped Lexa would survive long enough to fill them in on the details.
Lexa had been trying to help a customer when Clarke tried to throw her shop door open. She had to bite her tongue to stop herself from laughing at the attempt. Clarke would have been successful, but Lexa had a door closer that slowed the speed of the door, so it looked like she was opening it in slow motion. It was pretty comical.
“I’m sorry, ma’am. What else did you say you would like?” Lexa tried to listen to the customer, but she was a bit distracted by Clarke’s apparent bad attitude. Her brows were furrowed and her hands were clenched at her sides. What had happened to make such a gorgeous lady become so angry?
Thankfully, Lexa had a customer to help so it kept her mind off of the beautifully angry Clarke standing in her shop’s doorway. She went around gathering the flowers that she felt her customer would be satisfied with, considering her situation. Lexa couldn’t begin to count how many people came to her trying to make up for mistakes in relationships. This younger lady was no exception.
“Here you go. I hope everything works out.” Lexa smiled and handed over the flowers. Her customer thanked her before backing out and almost running into Clarke. Luckily she realized she was in the way and moved over just long enough for the customer to leave, but then she flipped the “Welcome” sign to “Closed.”
“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Clarke, but it’s only 2:30. I’m not closed for the day.” Lexa didn’t have time to enjoy her teasing because Clarke was already at the counter. As cliche as it sounded, her blue eyes held a storm in them. The fact that the storm was directed at her made Lexa as turned on as she was scared.
“We need to talk.” Clarke’s mouth was moving, but Lexa was too distracted. She should’ve been paying attention. Clarke wouldn’t be this angry over nothing, and it was probably something Lexa had done. But dammit, angry Clarke was kind of hot.
“I’m listening.” Lexa could tell that Clarke hadn’t been expecting that kind of answer. Maybe she had expected her to argue already?
“Who do you think you are to call my flowers tacky?” Clarke had never been one to hold back or beat around the bush. Her father had always said to just spit it out so as not to waste anyone’s time. She had thought it was an excellent piece of advice. Especially when she wanted to start arguments.
“A person who got a degree in plants and someone that runs a flower shop. Really, Clarke, I thought you knew that already.” Lexa knew she was just stroking the fire. She also knew that angry women could be very dangerous. But she deserved to have a little fun in her life, right?
“You know nature, not art.”
“Art imitates nature.”
“Art imitates feelings. It’s just a coincidence if those feelings appear in the form of nature.”
“So when you draw flowers you feel inadequate?” Lexa knew immediately that she had said the wrong thing. Clarke’s eyes narrowed while she clenched her jaw. This wasn’t going to be good. Lexa had unleashed the beast.
“How dare you call me inadequate. I’ve dedicated my whole life to my art. Can you say the same about your stupid flowers?”
“I don’t have to take a lifetime to be good at something.”Clarke’s jaw dropped. She went too far.
“Don’t act like you’re better than everyone else. You sell flowers. It doesn’t take a passionate botanist to do that.”
“Maybe it doesn’t, but it definitely takes a special kind of person to tolerate you.”
“Tolerate me? Honey, people enjoy me.” Clarke knew they were getting petty and starting to take cheap shots. She hadn’t expected this to end up so… childish. She had honestly just wanted to confront Lexa about the insult to her ego. This back-and-forth argument didn’t really help, though.
“Oh yeah? Prove it.” Lexa didn’t know what she was expecting. Maybe she was expecting Clarke to pull out pictures or a video. She could have even spurted out a story about how much fun she had had with some of her friends one time. What she hadn’t expected, though, was for Clarke to grab Lexa’s shirt, pull her close, and kiss her. And she definitely hadn’t expected what was happening soon after.
“That was hate sex. Just so you know.” Clarke hadn’t really planned on, well, doing what she did. It was just once. Oh, and it was to prove a point. It’s not like it had meant anything. It’s definitely not like she had enjoyed it. Or so she told herself.
“I’m not so sure. I think you just wanted to act out that scene from “Imagine Me & You.”” Lexa was too smug. She was very happy with what had happened. It had been unexpected, but it was definitely pleasant. Clarke was right. She did enjoy Clarke. Maybe a little too much.
“Oh whatever. You couldn’t live up to Luce no matter how hard you tried.”
“Whatever you say, Griffin.”
Clarke looked at Lexa a little longer. She hadn’t solved her problem. She still hadn’t convinced Lexa that her art was beautiful. It was the whole reason she had gone over there in the first place. The reason she had interrupted both hers and Lexa’s businesses for the day. Well, she guessed she would just need to visit Lexa more often until the ‘situation’ was solved. Yeah, that seemed like a very good plan.