Disclaimer: Still don't own Death Note or Ouran…Eros and Freyja, in all their snarky glory, are mine, however….I might loan them out if you beg me.

The Increasing Long List of Warnings: This chapter will contain both yaoi and shounen ai. These are employed at the discretion of the authoress for her entertainment and that of her lovely readers. If such things bother you, skim this chapter for pertinent plot points and think of waving fields of sunflowers, a nice ocean breeze, cute puppy dogs wagging their tails, etc., etc. For those of you who don't have any complaints on that particular subject, please note that the authoress will not take any responsibility for nose bleeds or rather interesting flights of fancy. As always, explainable OOC and Tamaki-fied syntax will abound. But as always, the authoress takes this tale very seriously and has not one iota of sarcasm within her entire being.

Dedication: This is for fangirls everywhere.

Note 5: Hell and Doujinshi

A week after the day that no one would admit to being a day – Tamaki had, in fact, introduced a resolution simply to strike that date forever from the Host Club's calendar of events for the purposes of a memorial, Kyouya had glowered in response and added several thousand yen to Haruhi's debt for "services rendered" – Fujioka Haruhi walked into the Third Music Room once again, attempting to be prepared for anything that the parallel universe of Ouran Academy might throw at her.

Opening up the doors, she found quite a scene before her.

In response, she blinked, absorbed all the details, and turned right around and left.

Shutting the doors behind her with all the strength she possessed, Haruhi leaned against them, took a deep breath, and – as a measure she had recently adopted to ascertain the actual seriousness of the situations she faced – raised one hand in the air and slapped herself.

Hoping that such a gesture would clear up the scene that had greeted her eyes upon her first entrance, Haruhi again turned around and walked back into the room she had just emerged from.

Sure enough, the slapping had once again failed to wake her up.

Her first real indication that something was heinously wrong was the fact that no one immediately came to bother her either time she entered. There was no pointless cry of "My daughter, you've returned to your father after what seems like almost an eon of separation!" There was no troublesome entanglement of limbs and joint, off-color insinuation, no threats to make her a slave to the rich until she was an old, feeble woman no longer with the money to maintain, no offers of cake or grunts acknowledging her presence.

However….that was not to say that the Third Music Room was silent….far from it to say the very least. There were…noises.

No, Haruhi would have to admit that all around her the room was positively…pulsating.

She had never seen the girls beyond the door so absolutely transfixed. Not by instant coffee, cosplay, phony tears, insinuations, touching reunions, or far too verbose speeches.

Nor had she ever seen so many...fangirls.

With the exception of small rings around…some unknown disturbances…girls in their yellow uniforms were perched on every available surface: at least two of them occupied every chair, china had been pushed off and shattered upon the ground as girls clamored onto the tops of tables in order to angle their heads in fashions that made their necks look broken or - at the very least - extremely uncomfortable, and some of them were perched like preening cockatiels in order to get the merest glance of what was occurring.

Presiding over all of this was Renge – who was dampening her eyes on her handkerchief because she seemed to be crying…in undiluted joy. At every layer of the mechanical cake looking contraption she always invaded with, were yet more female students, making it look like one of those Las Vegas shows that her father insisted on watching on New Years Eve on the television had somehow erupted within the Third Music Room. If it weren't for the fact that their eyes all looked like they were about to goggle out of their heads, Haruhi half expected them to begin dancing.

Suddenly, she found that Renge – standing up on her high power motor – had leveled a finger directly at her and said "Haruhi! It is a miracle! I shall eat rice like this for every day of my entire life and never go hungry again!"

Haruhi merely felt her jaw go slack in disbelief.

For a moment she hoped that Tamaki's womanizing imagination had simply outdone itself…but then again, it was the Host Club. Expecting normality was almost like expecting manna to fall from the heavens suddenly…and Haruhi knew that wasn't practical.

Contemplating this, she noticed that Renge kept looking at her knowingly, as if she was supposed to be in on….this.

"This," she nearly screamed, "This is the culmination of the process of leveling up of the Host Club….akin to finding the secret ending for the 100 complete, are we correct Haruhi, my love!"


Due to an entire legion of yellow clad girls pushing her back and her outcry against that, she didn't so much as have time to contemplate it. Nor did she have a good look at well, where everyone else was looking.

Feeling like this was a sort of Inquisition – all the while enumerating what she could be hunted down by a bunch of vapid girls for…perhaps her socioeconomic status? Had they discovered her gender? Did they think she was actually in love with…well, Kyouya? – she was brought to the foot of the colossal tower of…otaku.

Renge was looking down at her with that same glinting look in her eye…when suddenly a plate – Haruhi, having already managed to break one, recognized it as one of the latest editions to the Host Club's china collection flying at the self-nominated manageress – with an impressive dodge most likely born of training many years with joystick controls, she dodged it and glared in the direction it had come from.

Haruhi looked over in the direction that it had come from only to see the head of one of the Hitachiin twins pop back down.

From the place where they were she heard a soft chorus of, "Doesn't she realize she's interrupting?"

So they all were in here somewhere.

But, Mother in Heaven what could those rich bastards all be doing to cause – she looked around and noticed that a number of the girls were, in fact, openly salivating – well, that.

"Um, Renge-san," she said with great trepidation. In response, the Otaku Queen's eyes practically shown like a cat in heat, "Could you explain what - "

Before she could so much as finish her question, the girl seated atop the Great Tower of Otaku, snapped her fingers, causing yellow clouds of estrogen to clear space all around her, followed by the familiar sound of metallic gears grinding and a sudden shift in elevation.

Haruhi never knew how on earth she managed to install one high-powered motor…but two were…so beyond excessive she didn't have words to articulate it. To add extravagance to excess, the two contraptions equaled out in level and a bridge whirred out between them.

"Haruhi!" She noticed that Renge had immediately sidled up next to her and was drawing hearts in the air with one finger and moving much farther into her personal bubbles than any of her notions of comfort allowed for.

For the first and hopefully only time in her life Haruhi was hoping Tamaki in full father mode might come to her rescue. Or perhaps Mori would unnecessarily lift her, or the twins…well, she didn't rightly know what they would do. Even paying the bill to Kyouya to rescue her would be worth it.

It was only then, due to a sudden jerk to get out of Renge's lunging route towards her that she saw that Tamaki, and all of her fellow club members, were…otherwise occupied.

And by "otherwise occupied"…she meant…with Kyouya.

The two of them were sitting on the couch, Tamaki's head flopped down in Kyouya's lap with no summary punishment by a notebook – and if the almost hyperventilating of an entire room full of females didn't distort the sound in some way, she could have sworn Tamaki was purring (and when did he purr like that?) the words "Mon Ami" at him.

Haruhi turned to where she had seen the auburn head of one of the Hitachiins during the cake plate missile incident earlier on and, suddenly she felt like there was something large and heavy in the pit of her stomach.

She had never seen their routine look that real.

As if to underline her thoughts, an entire group of girls circled around them fainted in sheer ecstasy. They were then summarily moved, stepped over, and jostled out of the room so that new viewers might get to see the "Ultimate incarnation of brotherly love."

And if some last vestige of her old rationality hadn't been telling her to check the last pair of males in the Host Club – sometimes rationality is a double-edged sword – she might have passed it off as some horrific nightmare caused by digesting her father's cooking last night…indeed, that would also explain the horrific churning in her stomach….and exactly why Renge continued to try to sling her arm around her…

But there was Hunny, leaning over Mori on the couch and decorating the stoic man with a flower crown, and gently weaving the stems through the silky tendrils of his hair and Mori, in turn, wiping off stray dabs of chocolate cream from the loli shota's face in smooth caresses that in no way resembled his usual practical cleaning methods.

Haruhi decided that, somewhere between eating her bento and the last part of classes she had died and gone to Hell.

As if to punctuate this, Renge stood up and said unto the cult of yellow clad worshippers at the alter of yaoi, "Today, the Host Club has finally listened to my suggestion as the manageress of this illustrious establishment and inaugurated the first of several BL days! This day, my fellow initiates, shall thrive forever in our hearts and minds-" here she dodged a saucer that had been fired from the Hitachiin's area of the room and accompanied by a remark by Hikaru that was somewhat of a mumbled, "Can't you worship elsewhere…we're busy." It was patently ignored and she continued on. " – And as manageress, I promise there shall be several more moments to appease the insatiable fire that dwells within us all because three bowls of rice more is not nearly enough."

A deafening cheer went up.

Unfortunately for Haruhi, Hell looked an awful lot like one of Renge's Moe Moe! Host Club doujinshi. Unnoticed by anyone else, she slapped herself one more time to assure herself that the first one hadn't been part of a dream as well.

Sadly, it was all still depressingly real.


Eros had been hiding under the plush couch that the Strumpet had laid himself out on using Glasses as a pillow half in amusement at the absolute carnage going on above his golden head and half in fear that she would see him.

But still, hewas going to have no more amusement at this rate.

She would curtail it. He bounced out of the way of the master of his Love Note's seeking hand – just what it was seeking for, he didn't want to know – and thought with belligerence that it would take a great deal from his carefully cultivated image if that straw haired dandy were to see him clinging to the leg of the couch.

Moreover, the Strumpet had grown positively and somnolently, boring. He had attempted all the normal methods of getting the idiot boy's attention – insulting his rather doubtful (at least in Eros' opinion) masculinity, calling into question the pedigree of his dog, making Napoleon Bonaparte into an extended short joke, insulting Androgynous' entire peasant culture…

And Glasses still took up all his attention. BORING. And since she was here and therefore another Love Note was here…there was no quick solution.

Out of spite, he bit the strumpet's roving finger rather savagely, causing the vacuous boy to mutter an annoying, "Kyouyaaa!" before the sound was summarily smothered.

Eros decided he did not want to know what went on in this place on an ordinary basis. Well, maybe he did…. then he could improve upon it.

That was, if he ever managed to get out from under this damned couch without severe repercussions and physical endangerment.

There was a grasp at his wings that he assumed was the Strumpet.

"Dah-ling, you are looking positively masculine today!"

…Zeus damn it. He had been found.

…and clinging to a couch leg at that.

"Eros, sweet cake, you aren't going to positively break my heart into small slithers, by ignoring me over there, now are you? Life has been positively dull without you."

He adjusted his feathers and smoothed out a curl or two before turning around with an immaculate positively bored expression.

"Why, hello, Freyja, Old Man Loki finally set you free? Down here to find a precious jewel you've lost?"

She caressed his cheek despite his positively acidic frown, "My precious pearl and favorite doll has found his way down here to play with the humans. I felt incredibly lonely without you, honey muffins, I need to find something – someone to -"

"I found someone for you, Freyja. You'll quite like her."

She blinked.

"The Strumpet – that is the current master of my Love Note – has a lovely personage that you would just adore."

Freyja looked positively giddy.

"My dear, sweet effeminate Eros has been thinking of me in his tenure on the human world!"

"Her name is Antoinette – "

"- and he has discovered a French lady of proper distinction to add to my distinguished cohorts! You know what they say about the French and amour!"

Eros didn't know what they said about the French and love. Nor did he care. At the moment he was thinking of his last encounter between a lady who was perfect for Freyja's…distinguished cohorts…it had taken him a week to wring the dog slobber out of his wings.

Indeed, he thought an introduction between the two fine ladies would do himself a good deal of good.

"And, Freyja," he said, dodging another groping hand, "Don't you think there's more productive forms of love you could be promoting than - " he missed the Strumpet's next grab by a mere matter of inches " – that."

She stared at him as if she suddenly didn't understand the words that were coming out of his mouth.

"But, Eros baby, I have finally met a kindred spirit who understands the beauty that is the unity of love between males! If only," she said beginning to pout, "she truly doesn't yet understand mi amor eternal, cross-dressing!

He really wanted to tell her – and many memories of having been a victim of her strange kink rushed back in the form of a grimace – that most somewhat normal people didn't understand her eternal love either.

"But she says she will 'level up' in time…I suppose I shall eventually have to learn such terminology."

…He froze, knowing that he had heard that term somewhere.

"And she had taught me this wonderful technique of discourse," she cleared her throat before letting out a booming, "Oh ho ho ho ho ho!"

…Mighty Aphrodite, no! Dear Venus, no. Anyone but her…even Glasses or Androgynous or even the Cake Elf.

Not Ohhohoho. Anyone but her. Mighty Aphrodite, anyone.

Suddenly he was struck by an absolutely sickening idea that threatened the possibility of physical harm and further diluting his gender identity in Freyja's already decidedly obliterated mind.

But he would do it…otherwise the damn Strumpet would keep snuggling with Glasses until Ragnarok.

While that half sounded amusing, Eros knew that, should he wish to be entertained for the duration of his stay in the human world, he had to do it.

"Freyja," his grin was so saccharinely sweet that nymphs would normally fall out of the trees at his feet, "Let's make a deal…See, that wonderful identical twosome other there makes delectable outfits for Androg – I mean, that lovely cross dresser seated by Ohho – your mistress. Well, should my dearest Masculine Strumpet – that would, of course, be the owner of my Love Note – happen to procure one…I might be willing to…" he trailed off, expertly.

Her eyes glimmered as Eros imagined the Tart's would if Androgynous ever managed to say something vaguely civil to him.

"Oh Eros! It would be incredibly stimulating if you did it voluntarily. It always looks so messy and haphazard when I have to resort to - "

He cut her off with a devastating wink, "My dearest cupid! There is a price for such an activity!" At least his tenure with the airhead and Glasses had made him a pro in some areas…


She was practically salivating…he didn't think it would be very difficult to bargain at all.

"That," he pointed a finger up at the two figures above them on the couch, "will have to cease."

Freyja's lips drew into a pout.

"No deal, Dahling. Not even if you were to dress up like the Queen of Sheba…again."

Eros felt bile rise in his throat at that particular fiasco before carrying on, "Fine, I will do it if you never do that for to the Strumpet again."

She looked to be considering the proposition. He added, "The rest, after a reasonable period of time, are yours to dress up at your discretion."

It definitely looked as if he was making progress in his…negotiations.

"I can even convince the Strumpet of a theme of your choosing…believe me, the dandy has a field of roses for a brain….and, you wouldn't want your little mistress to be…caught and your chances destroyed by decadence."

Immediately widening at this point, her eyes told Eros that he had sold her with that last part long before she opened her excruciatingly annoying mouth.

"Sweetheart," she said giving him a cringe worthy wink, "You have yourself a deal."

Dodging a barrage of fainting woman, she immediately went to Queen Crazy Ohhohoho and explained Venus knew what. All he knew was a minute later the Strumpet was hurled an impressive distance from the couch and said, absolutely oblivious to the utter wrath of Glasses, "Kyouya…I'm not sure what sort of act you are going to perform with my school tie…but," now he was noticing that Glasses was about to go nuclear, and began kneading his fingers together before saying in a miniscule voice, "Could I have it back…?"

It took an incredible display of tact and strategy and a domino effect of several girls on the part of the cupid – one that the King of the Host Club would surely pay for at a later date – to stop him from being strangled by his own tie with so many rapt witnesses admiring his "beautiful" death.


Ten minutes later, girls were being corralled out of the room be the military combined might of the Ootori Private Police force and the absolutely horrific aura exuded by the Host Club's vice president.

Once the entire entourage had left, Tamaki fairly barricaded himself in the corner, Kyouya made several phone calls in a frighteningly accommodating sounding voice, the twins looked at each other with a glare somewhere between satisfaction and mild confusion and inexplicably began taking notes, and Hunny and Mori observed each other out of the corner of their eyes with Usa-chan forming a fairly solid boundary between them.

If it weren't for the circumstances that produced it - and the fact that Tamaki had felt the need to make several awkward shouts about crossing something called a "Homo-homo line" and about how he hadn't really although he had given the illusion of it - before withdrawing into the corner and muttering to himself at the barest glance from Kyouya, Haruhi would have quite enjoyed the silence.


It had taken several bowls of commoner's ramen and several DVD's of a particularly sappy drama to take Tamaki's reeling mind off of the days events.

Eros blew a puff in his ear. He batted the cupid away and went back to noisily slurping his noodles.

"Trollop!" Eros persisted, rolling over lazily in the air, "When are you going to admit that reclaiming your dignity is a lost cause?"

More moody slurping. The gigantic screen changed to the set of commercials that preceded the current episode of the season's most talked about love comedy, A Gentleman's Duel.

"...And more importantly, mon fille de joie-"this particular name was followed by the sound of the Styrofoam bowl following and generally ignored exclamations of pain as hot water sloshed onto the front of Tamaki's shirt "-when are you going to get on with the business of the Love Note?"

In response, the cupid was only greeted with several incoherent shouts and the sound of running feet.

Charging at him Tamaki began yelling, "Do you lack comprehension you insipid turkey with wings?" He began tearing at his hair, "How can I ever see any member of my dear family again and have them think of me as a mere mockery of the masculine hero of the romantic comedy that is my destined part to play on the great stage of the world?!? And Haruhi! Oh, Haruhi! She witnessed her father so thoroughly and unintentionally cross a line – I must have been momentarily insane! Absolutely mentally unsound! Deranged! Unhinged! Non Compis Mentis! Stark raving mad! – I would never…with Kyouya…in PUBLIC! What must my dear virginal daughter and the hard hearted Kyouya who attempted to murder me with my own clothing items think of Otou-san now?"

Eros blinked.

There should be gradations of stupid that humans are allowed. This specimen would certainly be one of those incredibly fine grade idiots.

With great pomp, Eros let two words roll off of his tongue, "Love Note."

It looked like the idiot had made a desperate grab at his wings - which the cupid easily dodged - while continuing to shout, "How can you speak of affairs of the heart when the world has been so upended and it is almost like I have been abducted by aliens and turned into something that Renge would think up at night in her deepest otaku fancies involving the implementation of a whole nation composed of reverse-harems! Why, I bet there are-"

Eros poured a convenient glass of mineral water on the raving fool's head and said with deliberate slowness, "You. Victim. Of. Love. Note."

He shut up – blissfully – and blinked.


"I loathe repetition, my fair Strumpet."

The sentence had gone unprocessed as the idiot entered a catatonic state.

"…There's more than one?"

Eros yawned and gave a sparse nod.

As if, on cue, an advertisement for a brightly colored tree limb chopper was interrupted by a screen where, in painstakingly rendered cursive, was rendered the word "LUVR" surrounded by a constant filter of animated rose petals.

A voice – that bore an uncanny resemblance to Ukidoki Memorial's Miyabi – began speaking, "Hello denizens of this beautiful world! I am LUVR and have come to seal the wounds of the world with love."

Tamaki frowned and squawked, "What kind of joke is this? I want to see if Ai-san rejects the feelings of twin brothers in order to court a dashingly handsome boy who has been disowned by the only family he knows!"

He flipped the channel, his mouth dropping as he realized that the same message and placard was on every other channel as well.

"Now," continued the suave voice, "Turn to Bara T.V. to see evidence of the manifestation of my powers."

Frantically flipping to the specified channel, Tamaki found a television anchor who was quite unaware of any interference with A Gentleman's Duel's time slot. Indeed, she was calmly reporting on an international summit.

"In international news, the President of the United States and Prime Minister of Great Britain are currently engaging in talks concerning the current nature of global affairs. The two are about to meet for a live conference in Washington D.C. – wait! What is this?"

The footage now occurring on the screen was something that no political spin could take the compromising elements out of.

Tamaki blanched. Even Eros felt a bit queasy.

After a moment, it was as if both of the political leaders had come out of a love pheromone trance.

The U.S. President blinked up at the camera as if he was looking into the sun, while the Prime Minister had the good grace to look shocked at his own behavior.

The channel was once again taken over by the LUVR screen.

"There is no breach in the world that can not be healed with love! I, LUVR, shall put myself in the service of this noble idea until the world is a place of happiness!"


Intending to get an update on his stocks on an internet news site, Kyouya instead found something that was…rather interesting.

New headlines concerning the presence of an individual known as "LUVR" ticked by every few seconds.

Upon entering the skyrocketing profits of the Host Club into his accounting software – he had managed to pass off his extreme humiliation as a marketing technique – he read: "The band L'MarqueenCiel was recently found to be in a tangled complex of illicit affairs…the being known as 'LUVR' has taken responsibility."

Kyouya frowned and pushed his glasses up before a new headline rolled past on his news ticker: "In an unexpected and shocking merger, Somy Entertainment and the Zintendo Corporation have decided to combine forces to bring consumers the ES-Wee. They have also announced that the launch titles will include Interminable Reverie: XIV in Gario, Mooigi, and Apple editions, along with Ultimate Ukidoki Memorial Miyabi Deluxe edition. This has been attributed to a sudden liaison between the executives of the companies and may be attributed to LUVR. There is no word yet on Bill Yates' involvement."

This had gone a bit farther out of the scope of convenient manageability than he had hoped it would.

"And, in entertainment news," The ticker flashed, "Hollywood's George Clooney, Matt Damon, and Brad Pitt were recently seen acting rather intimately together by Grumman's Chinese Theater. All three parties were too absorbed to comment. LUVR suspected."

Tapping a finger on the desk, he thought, Letting this go may have increased profit levels locally, however this is beyond the realm of profitability.

That, and this was something that seemed a bit too absurd for even Tamaki.

It was clear.

There were two of them. Kyouya just needed to figure out how, now.


The LUVR Broadcast clicked off just in time for the last minute of Tamaki's episode of A Gentleman's Duel to play – displaying a baffling picture of the handsome and rascally twins walking away with their arms around the petite heroine – leaving Tamaki in a state of shock.

It was clear as crystal!

Someone else had usurped his position as the one to spread love throughout the world! That…that was not love! That was a strange concoction of bad shoujo doujinshi staples and immoral worldviews. It was…unsavory to say the least. It was –

Tamaki's inner monologue was rendered speechless momentarily as the cupid dropped within inches of his face.

"Strumpet, what are you going to do?"

The blond goggled at him incredulously.

"You do know what they say," Eros said smoothly, flipping back into a relaxed position, "The pen is mightier than the sword."

Tamaki thought of the Love Note in its hiding spot (cleverly hidden beneath pictures of Haruhi in his study desk) before realizing he had no idea who the master of this new Love Note was.


Eros read his confusion. It rather frightened him that he was able to do so.

"I can't tell you, per se, who it is – against the rules, you know - but I can give you hints as to who would be a lovely match."

Tamaki pumped his fist up in the air, vowing that no one would corrupt his pure ideals of undiluted love especially when such corruption was based on a political or consumerist reality.

He would be a handsome crusader of beauty and love! In the name of love, he would punish this cruel tempter!

FIN of Note 5

A/N: Hello again, everyone! I'm not dead, I'm still writing, school (and a confluence of several other interrelated factors) has prevented me from writing anything lengthy. But, here is the long awaited BL chapter of Love Note with new developments and a new, crazier plot. A lot of these pairings are vaguely accepted, but I had several requests (particularly Hikaru/Kaoru and Kyouya/Tamaki), but I needed to wait for one of those to be possible.

This chapter's chock full of pop culture references – got politics, J-Drama, a bit of Sailor Moon, Final Fantasy…I don't even know what else. The lampooning of Death Note also continues. But, since its been awhile this chapter is longer than the last. Renge is cracktastically fun to write (and cosplay!).

As always, I hope you enjoyed! Comments will be zealously fangirled and questions will be answered personally as per the usual.