#five years. you think near thought about mello in those five years? with longing? with sadness?

[kiyomitakada]

Shuichi Aizawa taps his foot against the floor to listen to the sound.

Solid. Concrete, stained with crumbs. This airport must not have many cleaners.

"I'm back!" Matsuda flops down beside him, grinning. Shuichi is absurdly jealous that he doesn't seem affected by the jet-lag at all. "I got snacks for the flight. Want some cookies?"

"Sure," Shuichi says, a little surprised by the thoughtfulness, and takes one.

"I mean, I guess they're biscuits here," Matsuda says. "Never thought we'd come to England for the K— I mean, the investigation."

"You don't have to sound so excited about it."

"Oh, come on, like you didn't like it!" Matsuda leans his head back against the pillar and sighs. "I can't believe we're going back already. I wish we got to stay for longer than a day."

"We got what we needed," Shuichi says flatly. He has Near and Mello's pencil sketches carefully stored in multiple layers of folders in his backpack. (He also has a few Sherlock keychains stuffed in his pocket. Yumi and Taro love those books, and god knows Shuichi hasn't been the best father.) "We shouldn't stay apart from the rest of the task force for too long."

"Yeah, I guess." Matsuda sighs again. "Still. It was nice doing something for once, wasn't it?"

Shuichi nods, reluctantly. The circumstances are horrific, of course, but he can't deny he's been going a little mad sitting in an office for five years while Ukita's killer — and Ryuzaki's, and Watari's — keeps slipping through the task force's fingers like sand through a sieve.

"Light's going to be happy," Matsuda continues, his smile returning. "We've learned a lot."

N, Near, Mello, Wammy's House, the L Successor Program. "Yeah," Shuichi says.

He's been a little worried about the younger Yagami, frankly. They don't talk at all outside of the office, and Light always seems perfectly fine, but it can’t be easy watching your sister be kidnapped and your father coerced. If Kira or the mafia ever came for Shuichi’s family, he doesn’t know what he’d do.

Ever since Ukita, Shuichi has promised himself that when they catch Kira, Shuichi’s going to get him a lawful trial and imprisonment. Hopefully for life. He refuses to stoop as low as to kill him; he’s better than that. The NPA must be better than that.

But if they hurt his kids—

No, it’s not worth thinking about.

Matsuda, abruptly and inexplicably, giggles.

“What,” Shuichi says, cringing a little at how sharp his voice is.

“Nothing!” Matsuda winces. “It’s just… it’s a little funny.”

“What’s funny?”

“We got Near and Mello’s pictures, right?” Matsuda gestures in the direction of Shuichi’s backpack. “And we’re trying to find their real names.”

“What’s your point?”

“Don’t you think it’s kind of like we’re Kira?”

…

…Huh.

“That’s not funny,” Shuichi says, but he can’t bring himself to put any bite into it.

Matsuda droops a little. “I know.”

Shuichi glances over at him. Matsuda is working his thumb into the side of his wrist, frowning. It’s a nervous habit Shuichi’s seen a million times before.

Still, for some reason he does feel a bit of… camaraderie.

Shuichi knocks his shoulder into Matsuda’s, and when he startles, says: “Hey.”

“Yeah?” Matsuda answers, slightly timid.

“Thanks for the biscuit.”

And Matsuda’s eyes brighten, so maybe it’s worth it.

[ @deathnotetober day 3: task force ]

[biscuit-o]

When Mello got his photograph he has to have destroyed it. He didn't want to die. He has to have destroyed evidence of the past but also evidence that Near's touch will be gentle if he ever puts his hand on him. There was no other way to read it. Not when there was no damage, not even a slightly bent edge. Why this much care? Right, so Mello could see it wasn't falsified. As if Near would go this far in order to watch his smirking ten years old face. That face doesn't know anything. So why? Did Near fought the urge to run his fingers down the smooth surface of a frozen thought and a feeling even he cannot recall? Isn't this how photographs work anyway?

He held the pen longer than all of their accidental finger touches combined. He held the pen gently while never holding Mello's hand. Did he see Mello's face while writing? Did he imagine touching it? Or did he see it once the pen was down? Was it exactly the same as the one on the picture or did he try to add the weight of those five years? But he didn't expect the scar, did he? That nasty, gross scar. Will he still touch him when it covered almost the whole left (Near's right) side of his face? It didn't matter what he was really able to do. It was what he thought he could do.

If the photo's material was plastic sheet (like the package of a toy) then the writing would have appeared in front of his face. This means Near wanted to touch it. But it would have been mirrored, going right to left. Coded. He wanted to shove his face with something Mello doesn't know yet. "Raed Ollm" doesn't mean anything but nothing changes when you turn it back. How much information can two words hold when even their intention wasn't clear: was it an address? Greeting? Threat? Confession? If it means everything, then it means nothing. But then there will be no intention and Near always has one.

But to which face was this intention directed? The one on the picture or the one he carried now? The answer can be found with more precise question: which face Near wants to touch? The one on the photograph since it was the one he visualised while inscribing his message on the back. Sure, it isn't fair since he had no way of seeing how Mello has changed, but life is rarely fair. And even if he thinks he can trace the edges of his scar, he still doesn't know who he is now. Maybe he does know that. If that's the case, then some meaning can be found in these two weird words, carefully written in cursive. "Dear" is for the one he used to be, when he longingly stared at Near in class and hoped their fingers will touch while they were both writing homework. But he doubted Near remembers that. He doesn't know what is like to feel a touch's ghost every time he takes a pen. And now he is just "Mello" and they are both ready to move on. Since if Near wants to touch the face on the photograph he has to touch the scarred one which frowned behind the gun - impossible.

He wasn't sure of his conclusion, of course. He didn't observe the photograph for long. He didn't allow himself. Therefore, he doesn't think about Near's touch. It was destroyed because he didn't want to die. But it does it matter if it had turned into ashes when it's a fragment of the mind? When it continues to pose questions?

[thecarnivorousmuffinmeta]

What are your thoughts on Near and Mello (Death Note)? You don’t seem to like them as characters

I was about to say that I don’t necessarily dislike them, but, honestly, I do. I really really do.

And hey, look at that, I get to offend an entirely new fandom. 

To be honest though I’m not even sure where to begin.

I suppose I’ll start with the concept of the orphan heirs to the title of L.

Wammy’s Dog Fighting Arena for Boys

Death Note is a fantastic and brilliant anime, however, every once in a while more general anime tropes sneak through and cause it to fall flat on its face. We have L, who for reasons is a sugar addicted man child (well, I actually have thoughts on L, who I quite like, but my theory is that he is the way he is because he’s a jackass who fully intends to be that off putting).

The Wammy orphan bit is the worst of this. We have an orphanage of... children competing for the title of L, an anonymous detective that Watari made up. These children are all super serial geniuses who are even weirder and less socially adjusted than L. Just, kill me.

Even the premise for why they exist is bad. The authors’ in the Death Note guide admit that, when they realized they were going to kill off L, they realized they had a major problem. They didn’t want a repeat arc with another L as a nemesis, SO THEY BROUGHT US TWO Ls, THAT’S COMPLETELY DIFFERENT!

Why I call it anime derp is that the whole ridiculous Wammy’s concept is never addressed. Wammy’s existence, the little we do know of L’s backstory, makes Watari the level of skeevy reserved for manipulative Dumbledore.

The man uses these children and pits them against each other in a high stakes intellectual environment where they stake their entire worth on their still developing intelligence.

In canon, we see what this has done to Mello, L, Matt, and Near. All of them are completely messed up human beings and they either die or never get better. L is an utter jackass who cares very little about justice. Mello becomes an actual gangster and uses the Death Note to make hits on rival gang members (not to mention Sayu, but we’ll get into that). Matt also becomes a gang member and kidnaps multiple women. Near cannot function, at all, in society and when we catch up to him ten years later in that hilariterrible one-shot he’s gotten even worse.

If we’re taking LABB as canon then you have Beyond Birthday who becomes a serial murderer and lights himself on fire in a desperate, insane, attempt to show up L. We have reference to A who killed himself under the pressure of trying to become L. 

We can presume there’s been other orphaned children, who had nowhere else to go and no one to protect them, that Wammy just destroyed so that he could have Batman.

Death Note, however, never touches this with a ten foot pole.

Instead these are our weird and quirky band of heroes who are so weird because... it’s anime and we like weird! Weird means you’re a super genius! Yay genius orphanage!

So, right at the very idea of Wammy’s existing, they already have to win me back. Mello and Near do not win me back.

Mello is a Thug

We’re supposed to feel very bad for Mello, he’s always been second to Near and this messes him up, and he leaves to try and find his own path. I’d say god bless him, you go Mello, except his own path turns out to become a gangster.

Mello’s not a remotely good guy.

Just because he’s pitted himself against Light, and tells us he’s sticking it to Kira and Near at the same time, does not make him remotely good. And that’s what irks me about him, Mello is a great skeezy character, but the story actively wants me to think he’s the hero.

It’s sort of like trying to convince me that Kylo-Ren is secretly a great guy. It’s really hard to sell me on that when we watch Mello in real time and, more, why are we even bothering? Let Mello be the scumbag he is.

First, Mello steals a weapon of mass destruction and immediately begins using it. It’s not about solving the Kira case for him, or at least, it’s certainly not about stopping Kira. It’s about showing up Near, L, and all those who never believed in him. 

That Mello, first, not only steals the notebook from the government, but then gets it into the hands of gangsters, AND THEN USES IT TO ASSASSINATE HIS RIVALS. Well, suffice to say, you do you Mello.

More, this is a guy who tortures, murders, and probably rapes multiple people to get this to happen. Mello’s attempts to retrieve the notebook start with the kidnapping of Japan’s head of the police force. He then kidnaps Light Yagami’s younger sister and... Something very bad happens to Sayu.

We never get confirmed what happen, we don’t see much of her in captivity or much after, however immediately after the events we see her in a wheelchair. At the end of the series, Sayu is catatonic and barely able to express emotion.

It’s highly implied she was raped.

With the kidnapping of Takada, regardless of what you think of her... Nothing good was going to come of that. Mello resorts to the tactics of terrorists just so he can prove he’s a big man.

Further, Mello’s brilliance is never really that brilliant. Yes, he gets the notebook (though notably does not hold it long and loses his name in the process). However, his big win at the end is supposed to be him having realized Mikami would mess up were he to kidnap Takada. He had no guarantee of this, frankly, I think he was just kidnapping Takada in an act of desperation. Because that’s what Mello does when he runs out of ideas: he kidnaps people close to Light Yagami and sees what happens.

This gets both him and Matt brutally killed.

Near’s a Moron

Near is so weird and so maladjusted, my god, and he’s such a pretentious ass. He’s just... knock off L in every way. Which, granted, is kind of what he’s supposed to be. Except that the story never capitalizes on this. 

We see hints of it, Near trying desperately to live up to L’s name and mantle, but it never really delves into it.

More, what we do see of Near’s plans...

I really want to go into the one-shot epilogue, because that said so much about Near, but I’ll resist.

Instead I’ll note that L was 13 days from proving Light’s guilt. It takes Near and Mello combined five years, and Mikami’s dumb ass, to get to the same place. And even then, they nearly all died if Matsuda had been a worse shot.

Near has no idea that he’s nowhere near as brilliant as L. Instead, he gives us the world’s most hamfisted, frustrating, lecture at the end of the series where he tells us that Light was so stupid and that together he and Mello triumphed over evil.

Good for you, Near, I’m so happy for you.

I Just Don’t See the Point of Them

The second half of Death Note, in general, is a slough. It’s not just me saying this, you ask the majority of the fanbase, and they’ll admit it all goes downhill with L’s death.

I think the authors desperately wanted to avoid writing the dystopian politics of what would happen if Light won unopposed. They wanted a detective thriller, the trouble was, that story ended with L’s death.

So they try to feed us the same, but worse, story twice, and it just doesn’t work.

Personally, what I’d rather have seen is Matsuda and company slowly but surely realizing Light is Kira and Matsuda, in the end, having no choice but to assassinate him as they just cannot get any proof. It’s a very different story, but it would have been such a good story of betrayal that, again we sort of got hints of, but never really confronted.

Alternatively, keep Naomi Misora alive, and have her be the spearhead of brilliance we need. As it was, I am eternally sad/amused that she was killed off because she was too damn smart for the series (the authors admit she figured everything out too fast and as a result had to be eliminated).

Just, please, not genius orphan children. 

[cat-soda]

near’s belated birthday oneshot!

A hand on his shoulder turns him around abruptly, and Near is halfway to pulling out the pistol he has concealed at his waist for this very reason when 

“So, it is you, Near!” 

oh. Gevanni. 

“Wow, sir, you’ve grown so—” the other man stops, narrowing his eyes at Near’s aborted movement. “Were… were you about to shoot me?!” 

“I was startled,” is Near’s bland response. He resists the urge to twist his hair. 

This is why he doesn’t do any goddamn fieldwork.

or, near has a nice day

Pairings: none, but slight sutenia

Wordcount: 4755

Warnings for: slight ooc, lots of headcanons, original characters

[Ao3 Link]

It’s almost the end of summer when Near pulls on sandals over his socks and Rester’s baseball cap over his hair, tucks all of his hair into a pink and blue windbreaker, slips on a pair of sunglasses, then goes to stand in front of a mirror. He’s almost completely unrecognizable as himself. He’s never worn so many bright colors before, and he finds it to be a bit off-putting. Without even a trace of white on him, was he still ‘Near’?

He’s starting to think this isn’t such a good idea.

Over sticks their head through Near’s doorway, with a, “Bro, what’re you still doing here?! I can’t distract Halle and Rester forever!” Near blinks out of his mild identity crisis. “Go on, get!”

“Overture, I was thinking, maybe this isn’t—”

“L, you think too much,” they say shortly, pointing a stern finger at him. “Stop it, and get out of here before I start hollering for Linda.”

Near wants to refute this statement, because even someone as bullheaded as Over wouldn’t dare to poke the metaphorical sleeping bear in the eye (or, actually, maybe they would. Near sometimes thinks he might’ve chosen a successor a little too similar to Mello. His mistake, honestly) but they’re already pulling him by the sleeve out of his bedroom and sneaking him out the front door, and Near thinks that a teenager shouldn’t be able to push him around so easily. Over waves him off with an exaggerated air-kiss, to which Near’s only response is to stare, perturbed, back at them. “Be impulsive! Do something fun!” 

‘Impulsive’ and ‘fun’ are hardly words that Near would use to describe himself, but he digresses. He gives them a short nod, pulls Rester’s stolen baseball cap a bit more securely over his head, and sets off at a fast pace down and out of the alleyway and into the city.

And, it was important to note, Near hasn’t been outside… in a long time. 

It’s always a somewhat strange experience, leaving his headquarters’ dark, room temperature spaces and bright computer screens, and adjusting to whatever it is the rest of the world decides to throw at him. There are breezes and bright skies, and Near doesn’t usually care about whether or not his hair gets in his face, so long as it doesn’t obscure his vision, but out here, wayward strands of white hair whip his cheeks and get stuck in his mouth. He keeps his mouth shut and his eyes wide, taking in the world around him, and asks himself where he should go. 

Admittedly, this was one of those few things that Near had not taken the time to plan out. 

As he’s wandering down the sidewalk, almost hugging himself to keep from accidentally making contact with anyone else, he spots a cardboard box off to the side. He can hear small sounds coming from it, snuffling sounds and tiny whimpers, and he leans over to look inside, then can’t quite stifle the gasp that escapes him at the sight. 

IT’S A DOG. 

A VERY SMALL DOG. 

What do I do with this information, he thinks. He crouches down closer to the box, and has a staring contest with the puppy. (He wants to pet it.) (He shouldn’t pet it.) (But, God, does he want to.) The puppy is scruffy-looking and collarless— the natural assumption being that it’s been abandoned (and no, he doesn’t want to cry at the thought). What is the procedure for ensuring that abandoned puppies are placed in suitable, loving homes with good and kind owners? 

He calls Linda. 

“I’ve found an abandoned puppy,” he says without preamble. 

“Near, no,” she replies immediately. “Do not.” Then, after a moment of silence, “Fuck. You’re making that face, aren’t you?” He is not, in fact, making that face —as he hasn’t made that face since he was twelve, not that she would know; furthermore, what would be the point in doing so with no one else around to see it?— but he’s certainly not going to tell her that. That face was particularly useful back when he lived at Wammy’s, and had been especially effective against three specific people (one of which was Linda, of course). 

Mello called it cheating. Near calls it ‘using his assets to their full potential.’ 

So no, he doesn’t deny her statement. And then, “Ughhh, fine,” she says. 

Success!

“I will be there in a short while, then. Please h—”

“O-on second thought!” He pauses, perplexed, at her interruption. Linda doesn’t stutter. It was unlike her to be anything other than confident and sure, as was the case for most Wammy’s kids. “Maybe you should stay there, Near! Yes, that’s right! Stay there and, um, tell me where you are! I’ll come pick up the puppy, and you should stay out! For like five more hours. Catch those rays and vitamin D, haha!” Most Wammy’s kids were also very capable liars. Emphasis on most. It appears that Linda has gotten worse at it over time. For what reason could she be lying, though?

He considers the date. Ah, that was probably it. August 24th. It’s his birthday. 

Interesting. Following this line of thought, he comes to the conclusion that they must be planning some sort of surprise for him. It makes sense now, why Over and Linda had been so insistent and particular that he went out today. He almost wants to tell her that they needn’t bother to do anything too big for him, but prior experience informs him that that might end up offending her. And Near fears no god 

but he does fear Linda. 

He does not say anything to her of the sort, and instead goes, “If that’s alright with you.”

“Yeah, of course! See you soon!” The line cuts off sharply without Near telling her where he is. 

...so she’s been tracking him. He wonders if she’s been using the CCTV cameras to do so or if she’s placed another tracker on his phone. 

He bends back down and reaches a tentative hand out to the puppy. It sniffs his hand curiously. “It seems we will be parting ways soon. Not to worry. It will only be for a short while,” he says, voice solemn. The puppy yips and licks his fingers. 

He lets himself indulge in a couple of pats to the puppy’s head, and it whines when he hears a voice that is not Linda’s yell, “Near!” and suddenly stands.

He hasn’t heard anyone other than Linda use that name in quite a number of years. For just over a decade now, he’s been ‘L’ to just about everyone who knew him. In fact, the only other person who refused to use his new moniker was Gevanni, who’d resigned several years ago.  

He glances around, wary of his surroundings, and doesn’t see anyone suspicious. He also doesn't consider the possibility that he might be snuck up on. 

Another oversight on his part, really. 

A hand on his shoulder turns him around abruptly, and Near is halfway to pulling out the pistol he has concealed at his waist for this very reason when

“So, it is you, Near!”

oh. Gevanni. 

Speak of the Devil, and He shall come, as they say. 

“Wow, sir, you’ve grown so—” the other man stops, narrowing his eyes at Near’s aborted movement. “Were… were you about to shoot me?!”

“I was startled,” is Near’s bland response. He resists the urge to twist his hair. 

This is why he doesn’t do any goddamn fieldwork.

“Y-you… you can’t just—” Gevanni stops, lips twitching upwards into a slight smile. “I guess I shouldn’t be so surprised, huh? It’s just strange to see you by yourself. Is Halle not around? Commander Rester?” Ping! He glances down at the phone in his hand, then pockets it.

Ping, ping, ping! Gevanni winces. Near only tilts his head, scrutinizes the older man quietly. “No. I’m by myself.”

“Oh, that’s—” Then, Gevanni gets several pings from his phone in quick succession, and he finally gives Near an apologetic glance before looking down at the screen. He pales instantly, and Near has only seen him do that under one circumstance: while being reprimanded by Agent Lidner.

So she and Commander Rester were, presumably, in on the surprise as well. He had thought it’d been suspiciously easy to get away from Rester’s watchful gaze. Well, agent? What is it that Lidner’s told you to do? There’s a slightly sadistic side to him that is presently very amused, and enjoys watching the older man squirm— Near can’t help the small huff he lets out from his nose.

Gevanni puts his phone away with an overly-bright smile and a nervous laugh. “Hey, sir, why don’t we, uh, walk this way? For a bit? We could, um…” His eyes land on a nearby poster in bright red and yellow colors. “Go to the carnival!”

“Why would I want to go to a carnival?”

Gevanni looks Near in the eye and leans in close. “You can win so many plushies.”

“I’ve been convinced,” replies Near. He thinks, then amends his statement. “But I must wait here for just a bit longer.” The plushies, too, could wait. 

“Why’s that?”

Near crouches back down beside the cardboard box, reaches out and rubs the puppy behind the ears obligingly when it whines, and lets his actions answer for him. 

Gevanni crouches beside him, voice hushed and awed as he whispers, “Puppy.”

“Indeed.”

The older man lets the puppy sniff his hand, then lick his palm before he whimpers, “Oh, precious baby.” Near grants him a moment to compose himself.

Linda arrives several minutes later, already smiling at Gevanni despite herself, and Near comes to the conclusion that ah yes, she’d been watching the CCTV cameras, then. Upon introducing herself to Near’s former employee, she coos over the small puppy and gathers the box up into her arms. 

“Thank you for doing this, Linda,” he says, after giving the puppy one last gentle pat.

“No prob!” She hip-checks him affectionately as she walks past. “Now, get out of here, twerp. Take O’s advice!”

“That hardly tends to turn out well,” he reminds her reproachfully.

“Try it anyways! Nice to meet you, Stephen! Don’t stay out too late, Near!”

“Even though I no longer look like a child,” he mutters to Gevanni once her back has disappeared from view, feeling petty and petulant, but also saying it low enough that none of the cameras can pick up on it, “she insists upon treating me like one.”

Gevanni snickers. “Yeah, that sucks. I mean, you finally look like you’re almost old enough to drink.”

Near narrows his eyes at the man, who was still giggling to himself. Clearly, Gevanni has gotten too comfortable with poking fun at his former boss. Then, Near’s expression softens. Well, he supposes that’s alright. They’re no longer in a professional relationship, after all, and haven’t been for some time. 

He wonders if they could be called friends, then, instead.

“Oh, by the way,” Gevanni says as they begin walking toward the carnival grounds. “Why are you dressed like that?” He gestures at Near’s windbreaker, and Near pulls some of the pink-and-blue fabric away from himself to examine it. “It’s not bad— no, it’s pretty bad. You look like that 90s kid from Vine a couple years ago? ...no? I guess you wouldn’t know what I’m talking about, huh?” 

Near shakes his head.

“Yeah. Well. I’m guessing you didn’t mean to dress like him, then, right?”

“No,” he says. He fiddles with the loose tail of his bracelet. 

“Then… why?”

“Mm.” Near waits until he finishes looping, then unlooping the tail around the rest of the bracelet before answering as Gevanni waits patiently. “I am… someone who clings to familiarity,” he says, finally. “When I was very young, my mother told me that white was the color of grief. Of course, Western viewpoints differ, so many of the other children never understood why I insisted upon wearing white and only white. Somewhere in my mind, I think I believed that doing so would somehow make my family’s death hurt less, or that I would wake up and find that it’d all been a horrible dream.” He pauses, picking out his words, and pulls his hair out of his jacket, letting it fall down the length of his back. “I was often moved from orphanage to orphanage and back again. I had… intricacies, as you know, that they hadn’t the means to deal with. I constantly asked for more books and puzzles and toys; I was too intelligent to be satisfied with anything they provided, which was one thing on its own, but that on top of having to pay for my prescribed eyewares and skin ointments was too much. They called me ‘unruly’ and sent me on my way.”

“You, unruly.” Gevanni smiles. “Imagine that.”

“Yes,” Near agrees. “By the time I arrived at Wammy’s, the color white had been the only constant in my life. It sounds strange to say now, but by that point, I had considered it almost a part of who I was. I still do. Even then, I knew it was irrational, but still I refused to wear anything else. The things children come up with to cope,” he muses, beginning to braid a strand of his hair, going cross-eyed and trusting Gevanni to lead the way. “When Mello died,” he starts, then stops, voice catching in his throat, feeling the weight of the cross hidden under his shirt like a noose around his neck, and abruptly aborts the thought. “I wanted to try being someone new,” he finishes lamely. He keeps braiding.

Gevanni nods like he understands, and Near briefly worries that he’ll prolong the conversation. “We’re here,” he says instead.

Near looks up at the fairgrounds, brushing aside his hair and letting the loose braid unravel in the process. “So we are. You have money, don’t you?” The other man looks stricken. He frantically begins patting down his pockets. “Otherwise this whole endeavor will have been pointless,” Near deadpans.

“I’VE FOUND IT, IT’S OKAY.” Gevanni pulls his wallet out from his fanny pack. “I’ll go get tickets for us. Wait here, please.”

Near waits.

Not even a minute later, a tiny girl with pigtails sidles up to him, cheeks sticky from the fried dough in her hands. “Your hair’s white, mister.” She doesn’t look older than six.

“Yes.” He doesn’t know what else to say.

“That’s cool,” she says, biting into her fried dough and spilling sugar onto the grass. “My hair’s magic.”

He highly doubts this to be true. But, on the off-chance that it is: “Oh?” 

“Yeah.” She leans in close, and Near bends down to listen. “It turns brown in the sun!” She shoves her fried dough into Near’s hands, stepping a bit away to put her hands on her hips. “See, my hair’s black right now, okay? But look!” She hops out of the shade into the sunny clearing and holds up her pigtails. “Now it’s brown! Isn’t that cool?!”

It’s not. What was actually happening was that her black was really a very dark brown, and the pheomelanin pigment present —typically overshadowed by the eumelanin pigment— caused a lighter tone of brown to present itself when hit by direct sunlight. Hardly something to be called ‘magic.’ “It is,” he lies, and she beams at him.

Surprised, he tentatively smiles back. 

“Alice!”

The little girl shrieks, “Mommy!” and runs into the arms of a woman by the ticket booths. “Mommy, he has white hair, but he agrees that my hair is cooler. Come see, come see!” Alice begins to tug her mom over to where Near was still squatting in the shade, still holding onto Alice’s sugary treat. Her mother eyes him with suspicion.

He gives them a single wave. 

The little girl returns and retrieves her fried dough, and then her mother hurries her away, lecturing all the while over her complaints. Near’s hand drops. 

Gevanni comes back with a bundle of yellow tickets in his hands. “What was that about, sir?”

He’s silent for a moment. “You think my hair’s cool, don’t you, Gevanni?” He pulls his sleeves over his hand until only his fingers poke out. 

“U-um…? I mean, I do, but…”

“Nevermind,” says Near breezily. 

“I-it’s not like I don’t think it’s cool, don’t get me wrong—”

“I said, ‘nevermind.’”

Gevanni shuts his mouth.

Near weaves a strand of hair between his fingers and over his knuckles, then releases it. He feels awkward. “...I’m glad you made it back safely.”

“But I just went to get—” Gevanni pauses, getting an amused look on his face when he asks, “Did you wanna try an Elephant Ear? I can get one for you.”

“Don’t you just want to see me spill sugar all over myself?” Near returns, then scans the fairgrounds. “Now, where are the plushies?”

The barrel of the gallery gun twists just slightly left at the end, so Near makes sure to adjust accordingly to the right, and after that, it’s almost too easy to hit the plastic cups off of the shelves. The barrel’s smoking by the time he finishes with the third row, and the attendant’s shakily asking for the gun back and telling him that he could pick out any of the plushies as long as he never came back. 

“I can only take one?” He asks, doubtful. With how many cups he took out, he should get at least three, shouldn’t he?

“You can take as many as you fuckin’ want, man, just— just get outta here.”

Near surveys all of the toys hanging at the top of the booth, then glances back at Gevanni, who already has a couple of plastic bags filled with similar items and an aghast expression at the utter massacre of plastic cups before him. “Gevanni,” Near says. 

The other man snaps to attention. 

He looks back at the toys and regretfully limits himself to four. “We should have thought to bring a wagon.”

Gevanni sags, then stands up straight up again. “Wait a second.” He narrows his eyes at his companion. “Sir, isn’t your aim, like… really bad?”

Near raises his eyebrows at him, already holding plushies of a teddy bear, a frog, and a truly disgusting Minion within his arms. “Why do you say that?” He reaches for a pterodactyl to complete the set.

“Well, it’s just... I remember you used to have all those darts and you would aim them at the board and miss every single one. And then, either Ratt or I would have to collect them all off the floor for you.” Gevanni catches sight of Near’s sudden smirk. “Don’t tell me you— You did that on purpose?!”

Near’s smirk softens into a smile. “Please don’t misunderstand. As you’ve seen, I have certain needs that I’m sure other employers don’t require from their employees. It can become tedious, and it isn’t as though many CIA agents are trained to be caretakers… Whatever it was you all signed up for, the reality turned out to be quite different, did it not?” He picks at a loose string on the pterodactyl’s foot, thoughtful. “And I am… quite useless without others around to help me. I had to see if you would be able to put up with everything I asked you to, even if it seemed silly or ridiculous… It was a necessary measure.” The smirk returns. “Oh, and it was funny.”

Gevanni doesn’t seem to be paying attention to the jibe, though, and Near is somewhat unsettled by the earnest look in his eyes as they make eye contact. “You’re not useless, Near. Not in any sense of the word.”

“That’s hardly the point—”

“No, I know! I just…” Gevanni shifts his bags all into one hand, running his other hand through his dark hair. “Needing help for things like that— it doesn’t make you useless. Needing help in general isn’t a bad thing, and I’m sorry you ever thought…” He trails off, then starts again, “No, nevermind. But I do want you to know that you’ll always have people around to help you. You have a lot of people that care about you. I-including me.”

Near blinks. “Gevanni, you don’t work for me anymore,” he gently reminds him. 

“I know that too!” Gevanni yells in response, already flushed cheeks turning an even darker shade of red. “I mean…” He quiets and rubs the back of his neck. “As a friend. I care about you as a friend.” Then, he turns serious again, the setting sun washing him in colors of fire and life and loyalty, and Near, he— “I don’t ever want you to feel as though you’re alone. Okay?”

(...Near goes breathless.)

Near turns away without answering, and instead says, “It’s been a while now. I suppose it’s time we head back.” He begins to walk away. 

“Oh, um. Okay, sir.” 

Gevanni moves to follow after him, but then Near adds, “It's been bothering me for a while, but you needn’t call me ‘sir,’ anymore, Gevanni. ‘Near’ is fine.” He looks back over his shoulder at him. “It’s alright if we’re friends, after all, isn’t it?”

The other man blinks owlishly at him, then breaks out into a grin. “Yes! Just ‘Stephen’ is okay, too!”

“Mm. Let’s go home, then, Stephen.”

“Happy birthday, L!” Ah, so there’s the promised surprise.

Near steps through the doorway with Stephen in tow, looking around at the confetti littering the floor and the streamers haphazardly hanging over computer screens. There’s a table set up in the middle of the room with a cake —half unfrosted— sitting on top; surrounding it is a collection of Near’s finger puppets. “You didn’t have to go through the trouble…”

Linda starts her finger-wagging. “Don’t even start! We wanted to do this for you, so I don’t wanna hear a word!”

Over bounds toward Near, peering at his toys with interest. “L, where’d you get so many toys?” They glance up at Stephen, who’d stepped around the pair of them to place the rest of Near’s winnings off to the side, then add in a whispered tone, “And where’d you pick up such a cute guy?”

“Stephen,” Near says, catching the man’s attention, “is a former employee of mine. He accompanied me to the carnival today.”

“Scandalous.”

Near gives them a stern look, but doesn’t deign to give them a response, and instead says, “Stephen, this is Overture. I’m training them to take over for me as L once I retire.”

“’Sup!” Over sticks out a friendly hand that Stephen doesn’t hesitate to shake. “You like banjos?”

“Um— no.”

Halle laughs as she enters the room. “Pity, that. O loves them.” She goes to help Near set his plushies with the rest of his bags and takes him aside to debrief him in her usual professional manner, “The puppy has been cleaned and fed, and it appears to be in good health. Commander Rester has already made arrangements to bring it to the animal shelter tomorrow morning.”

Near nods, stubbornly stoic. “Good work, Agent Lidner. I’ll be sure to thank the commander as well.”

Halle’s face softens. “Did you want to see the puppy?”

“Yes,” he replies. 

She chuckles, redirecting him toward the kitchen area where Rester has an apron on over his trousers and the puppy is asleep on a soft pile of blankets and pillows nearby. It’s a strangely domestic scene that includes a neatly-swept floor, a variety of soapy pots on the counter, and a very buff man standing in the middle of it all up to his elbows in mostly-clean dishes. 

Rester wipes his hands on his apron, stiffly nodding in greeting. “Sir.” 

“Commander Rester,” Near says. “Thank you for all your hard work.”

“Yes. Please make sure to eat some of the food before you—” But Near is already sinking to the floor next to the puppy, knees cracking and popping grossly as he folds into his usual sitting position. Rester sighs. “Nevermind.”

“Will you—” Rester leaves the area, then returns with a tennis ball and a deck of tarot cards that he hands to his employer. “Ah. Thank you.” The man nods again, this time making to leave and rejoin the others, but he pauses when Near adds, “Please be sure to set some of your cooking aside for me, as well.”

At that, the older man smiles warmly. “Of course, sir. I’m glad you made it back safely.” He leaves. 

Near takes out his cards. 

He shuffles them, then after a second’s contemplation, sets out three cards facedown. He flips over the leftmost card. Four of Swords in reversed position (representing inaction and exhaustion). Then, the Empress, reversed as well (encouraging self-care… did Rester mess with his cards again?) Finally, the Fool is flipped over, upright (...signifying new beginnings). Past, present, and future. Hm. 

He is shaken out of his musings when the puppy sniffles, then sneezes and wakes itself up. It lets out a high bark before catching sight of him and wagging its tail expectantly. 

“Hello.” Near lets it sniff his hand before reaching to rub behind its ears. “Did you sleep well?”

The puppy answers him with a huff and sleepy eyes. 

“Perhaps not well enough, then.” He continues rubbing in the hopes of having it fall back asleep, but it shakes off his hand and clambers into his lap to bite at the tennis ball. “If you’re still tired, then you should go back to sleep.” The puppy pushes the ball around with its nose and Near’s advice goes thoroughly ignored. 

“That’s pretty ironic, coming from you,” Linda pipes up from where she’s leaning against the doorway. She can’t have been standing there for long; Linda always manages to announce her presence as soon as humanly possible, often without meaning to. 

“Linda.”

“That’s my name!” She sits down cross-legged beside him, and pets the puppy as she asks, teasingly, “And what do the cards say today, O Wise One?”

“That Linda should mind her own fucking business,” Near shoots back flatly. He gathers up his cards, shuffles them again, then starts stacking them together while Linda giggles. 

A few minutes of silence pass where Linda watches as he lays the groundwork for a rather uninspired cylindrical shape before she asks, voice uncharacteristically soft, “Can I help?”

“If you’d like.”

She nods, then takes out three of Near’s finger-puppets from her pocket —one black-haired, one brunet, and one blond— and doesn’t answer Near’s inquiring glance. She only smiles and shifts to stack cards together with steady hands. And when they’ve run out of cards, and the cylindrical structure looks awfully similar to a ruined Roman Colosseum, she picks up those three figurines and places them neatly in the middle. Near meets the gazes of the miniature Matt, Mello, and L —the real L— and doesn’t look away. 

“Like fallen gladiators,” he mumbles out loud. 

She shrugs. “They’d be proud of you, I think. Of the person you’ve become.”

“You’re optimistic.”

“Someone has to be.”

The puppy had fallen back asleep at some point with the tennis ball still half-hanging out of its jaw, so Linda gently pries the ball out as Near twists a strand of hair around his finger and tries to get lost in his thoughts. Then, Linda lays her head on his shoulder and entwines their hands together in a loose hand-hold that Near stops himself from pulling away from, and she says, “I really do think they’d be proud, y’know. I’m not just saying that.” 

He hums in response. 

“And if they’re not, then,” she squeezes slightly, “Rester and Lidner and O and I —that Stephen guy, too— we’re more than proud enough for all of them.” 

With that, she relaxes into him fully, watches as he starts braiding that strand of hair, still wearing Rester’s baseball cap and Linda’s friendship bracelet and the gaudy windbreaker that Stephen didn’t like, and Near almost believes her. “...thank you, Linda.”

“Hey, Near?”

He rests his head against hers. “What is it?”

“Did you have a good day today?”

The cap, the bracelet, the jacket, Overture’s overzealous hands and Lidner’s lipstick smirk, the sunset and Stephen’s warm blue eyes, and three finger-puppets, and idly, Near wonders what L would think. He decides it doesn’t matter. Near curls his fingers around Linda’s, and says, with a peculiar upturn of his lips, “I did.”

---

a/n: i meant to get this out sooner but im really slow and this oneshot went thru a couple rewrites tbh,,,,, its still not exactly where i want it to be, but i think its pretty okay for what it is. this is my first time writing such a smart character haha, i wonder if i did okay ^^; i definitely had some trouble with writing him as true to his character as per canon vs the idea of him i had in mind, and i ended up going with what the near in my head wanted, so hes prolly a little ooc. lets be honest, why would near ever wanna go outside anyways, lol? the pacing i also felt was a little weird, and the oneshot also didn’t exactly have a running theme throughout, which is a shame, and i kinda wanted to make callbacks and references and stuff like that, but i suppose it follows the kind of “day in the life” feel that i wanted near to experience, so oh well! it was fun, anyways! btw, tumblr formatting is hella weird, total respect for everyone who’s ever posted a fic here before.

oh, some songs that i was thinking of while writing this: Answer; When Will My Life Begin? (Reprise 2)

[secretshinigami]

Cozied Up

Author: @hazblogs For: @missmomentss Pairings/Characters: Amane Misa, L, mentions of Light and Beyond Rating/Warnings: Gen, no warnings Prompt: Misa and L have a sleepover party

Author’s notes: hullo ! i loved the idea of L and Misa being friends and i hope this little thing conveys how much i enjoyed writing it. hope y'all like it ! special thanks to Mic for the lovely prompts, enjoy !

Misa looks at her phone and sighs. “He ain’t coming. I fucking knew it,” she says to the figure hunched over her computer. “He told me he’d make it ! What a fucking dickhead.”

“Language,” the figure says. “You should have known he would ditch.”

Misa can almost hear a grumbled “Beyond owes me ten thousand yens”, but she chooses not to raise it. Light can miss the fun, for all she cares, and she’ll just have a cozy time with her friend. “L,” she asks, “d’you think you’ll let me curl your hair this time ?”

“Absolutely not,” L answers. “Last time I saw you do it, you burned Beyond’s hair off.”

“I promise I’ve been getting better at it ! It’s just so hard to do it on another person,” she whines, but L looks so deadpan that her explanation might not make the cut. “Why did you even come,” she continues, “since you don’t wanna play princess.”

“I never said I was adverse to make-up,” L says, almost as low as a whisper, and Misa’s eyes glint. “I just care about the excess keratin I have on my scalp.”

“Such a glamorous way to put it,” she laughs.

Truth be told, it’s quite fun to spend an evening alone with L. She doesn’t think they’ve ever done that before – in all of the year they’ve known each other, she’s seen him exclusively with Light and those weird underclassmen. And Beyond, but that’s another story – she’s actually friends with the guy. She couldn’t believe it when she heard a bunch of exchange students from Britain would come for the semester, and she certainly didn’t expect them to all stay, but hey, sometimes life happens.

The lights in her room are dim, she likes it better this way – she’s always been a goth, and it’s not about to stop, but L is squinting at the computer screen and muttering something about her being a vampire. She does look the part, wearing her pyjamas, which consist of a fancy red camisole she put on just in case Light showed up, and a swishy pair of shorts made of the same silky material. She looks cute, and she can feel that L is perfectly oblivious to that fact. What a gay, she thinks. Not that she isn’t bisexual herself, she just thinks it’s funny when her tricks don’t work on people.

“Hey,” L says after a while of him scrolling down whatever horror detective manga he wanted to read, and her scrolling through Instagram. “I’m hungry.”

“I have… uh, let me think.” Truth be told, she has plenty of stuff, but she isn’t sure L eats any of it. “I have carrots ?”

“I eat that,” L says, “gimme. If you don’t have chocolate, I will riot,” he adds, and just the thought of L doing something this physically intense sends her howling, holding her ribs as she flails on the bed, disrupting L’s hunched up position. “Oh come on,” he says, “it wasn’t that funny.”

“Dear, you underestimate yourself,” Misa simply says, before getting up to grab the carrots. She also takes some chocolate, Light’s favourite, but hey, if he wanted it that badly, he could have come. They munch on the carrots in silence, and Misa swears she can see L’s raccoon eyes lose some of their shadow from the sheer power of carrot vitamins. “Whatchu wanna do ?” she asks when they’ve finished the whole bag, and L is eating chocolate faster than Mello can say “I hate Near”. Which, all things considered, is pretty impressive.

“I don’t know,” L answers. “You’re the girl, you’re supposed to know what sleepovers are like.”

“How sexist of you,” Misa says airily. She doesn’t mind L’s misogyny as much as she should, but hey, being a teen idol does that to you. “Now would be when I paint your nails and you tell me about your crush on my hot boyfriend, and we – I mean it, we eat all the chocolate.”

L splutters for a few seconds (completely silent and lips moving, at least), and says, “I don’t have a crush on Light-kun. He is my friend.”

“Right,” Misa mocks, “and you’re not gay, and Light doesn’t have the hots for you as well. I know,” she adds after L sends her a slightly bewildered look. “I just… y’know, if he hated me that much, he’d break up ? And he’d date you, finally, instead of-” she blushes and stops at that, because the memory is both fun and painful. Who moans someone else’s name when they make out ?

Light, apparently.

“I’m not averse to nail polish,” L merely says after a few minutes of uncomfortable silence. “Though please, no yellow.”

“Me ? Owning yellow nail polish ? Who do you take me for ?” Misa smirks. “Let’s go for the basics. You’ll look good with black.”

L does look a bit miffed by the smell, so she reluctantly cracks a window open, and they spend the next hour slowly but surely making their way through all fourty of their fingernails. Misa’s hands are perfect, because of course they are, but L has those little white specks on his nails that make Misa tut. When she’s done, she finally drops the little brush back in the bottle and shakes her hands vigorously, hoping the polish will dry faster that way.

“You know that’s-”

“Completely useless, yeah,” Misa finishes before L has the time to speak more.

“I wanted to say that it’s spreading the toxic fumes in my direction, but also that, yeah.”

“Oh, fuck off !” Misa says, but she’s smiling.

L smiles back. It’s a little crooked, a little froggy, a little… uneven. She doesn’t know his life story, but she’s gathered enough to know it’s not glamorous – she’s glad she can put a little sprinkle of glitter here and there.

—

L goes to sleep at a regular hour for him (five in the morning, could be worse) and he sleeps in that weird crouched position – upright, knees drawn, eyes open at first. Misa thinks it’s bizarre, but she has learned not to judge. They had fun, watching a few Youtube videos for what Misa calls “Making The Weird British Kids Catch Up With Life”, talking about – she doesn’t even remember, she’s too tired. She falls asleep not long after L, curled up by his side, and she thinks that, in spite of the odds, in spite of it all, she actually did make a friend out there.

[mikami]

Death Note Audio Drama 09

Disc 9: Inherited Debt - a summary / partial translation

Prior translations / an explanation as to what the fuck this is.

SHIT FINALLY GOES DOWN. Mello and Near appear, Soichiro retires (or tries to) and L explores the afterlife!

_________

Feet on sand. Watari’s voice coming closer.

WATARI: Mr. L! Mr. L!

L: Watari... It’s you! Oh wow, I’m so glad to see you.

WATARI: Pleasure is all mine, Mr. L. It’s been so long.

L: This place is really badly organized. They never tell you anything.

WATARI: I know, I know... it’s been quite hard. I deduced a little and hoped... well, that I would find you here.

L: I’m sorry that it had to be under these circumstances. But look, I need to go someplace, still.

WATARI: The meetings usually start on the full hour.

L: Yeah, I don’t wanna be late. Are you going to wait here until I’m done?

WATARI (chuckles): Where else would I even go, sir?

_______

Bells ringing.

MAN: Sit down, please. I’ve got your file around here somewhere.

L: Am I late? Sorry if I’m late.

MAN: Oh, we’re all always late, Lawliet.

L: L. Please. People call me L.

MAN: Great. Yes. L. Aaah, there you are. Uh-huuuuh.... now look at all this paperwork. You’ve been really busy.

L: The devil finds work for idle hands.

MAN: Oh, really?  Uh-huh. I understand. Your case should have already been worked on a long while ago. Pardon the delay.

L: And here I still have so many things to do. I really need to get back to Tokyo, immediately.

MAN: Almost everyone still wants to take care of some things and there are ways of dealing with that. A lot of it will depend on your stamina and on how much you saved up.

L: Nobody ever explains anything around here.

MAN: I understand. Yes. You... slipped past us a little, because you... how should I put it? You were early. You came here before your time.

L: Oh, that explains a lot.

MAN: So... let’s start from the beginning, yes? Do you know where you are?`

L: Yeah?

MAN: And... you know who I am?

L: Yeah.

MAN: And... you also know you are dead.

L: Yes.

___________

TITLE MUSIC

___________

Many people talking.

MATSUDA: Do you want a drink?

SAYU: Already got one, thanks.

MATSUDA: Haha, maybe you need another.

SAYU: Thanks, I’m good.

MATSUDA: My name is Matsuda.

SAYU: I know. 

MATSUDA: Uh, and you...?

SAYU: You’ve always been nice, Matsuda, but, uh... you’re too old for me. And... I don’t date cops.

MATSUDA: But I didn’t say that I--- what is wrong with going out with a policeman?

SAYU: I don’t know... the long nights, waiting for a call, cancelled weekends...

MATSUDA: Uh... are you maybe a Yagami family member?

SAYU: That’s right.

MATSUDA: Oh my god! Sayu! It’s you! Sayu!

SAYU: You should have become a detective.

MATSUDA: Light’s little sister.... You’ve become... so mature.

SAYU: One of us had to.

Voices chattering. Soichiro is announced as a speaker.

SOICHIRO: Thank you, thank you all. I’m touched that so many of you made it here on this warm April evening.... just to say goodbye to an old inspector.

Cheering. Someone shouts “Free drinks certainly helped!”

SOICHIRO: I especially want to thank my wife Sachiko, who lied so coldbloodedly about why she wanted to go to a bar on a Thursday.

SACHIKO: I’m sorry, darling.

SOICHIRO: And my daughter Sayu, who is still sticking to my instructions to never marry a cop! So... hands off!

Laughter.

SOICHIRO: It’s now been 35 years since I finished my police training. Is Kitamura here, too? No? Well, alright. We didn’t always agree. Kitamura and I finished the academy together and he took the fastest path up into administration. And he took his hat and left, in the 30th year. I stayed. And most of you know it’s because of the special conditions of a very special case. That case still isn’t finished. That’s the reason I endured 5 further long years, to set the path for a young man, to give him time to finish the academy as well so he can take the poisoned baton from me. The Kira investigation. This man is my son.

SOMEONE: Nepotism!

Laughter.

SOICHIRO: Well nobody else wants the job! I’m sure he’d love to give it to you! Isn’t that right, son? I can be proud that my boy, my wonderful boy, is Detective Light Yagami now!

Cheering.

SOICHIRO: And if I’m still allowed, I’d like to take a short moment to remember those who aren’t lucky enough to be here today. It’s been a hard time, fighting this criminal who always did some unexpected turn, and the colleagues in our district have, perhaps more than others, had to deal with some very brutal murders. Not just comrades with a badge but also civilian investigators and friendly helpers. They all risked their lives and gave it. May God bless them. Here’s to absent friends.

___________

MAN: You don’t quite understand me, L. There is no such thing as an afterlife.

L: Where am I, then?

MAN: That is... complicated. You are... nowhere. You are... nothing. 

L: Are you trying to tell me all of this is a hallucination? Just a product of my neurons randomly firing while my brain is kicking the bucket?

MAN: Uh, no. 

L: I know a thing or two about movies. And you could turn this into a 90 minute thriller, but not for five years. I’ve been here for five years.

MAN: I’m not sure you can apply the experiences from a cinema one on one to what happens after death. 

L: Well.. you haven’t really helped me understand much yet.

MAN: Did it ever occur to you that you share some of the blame? What if this whole---

L: Pathetic bureaucracy?

MAN: Harsh words. But if it suits you. What if this whole...  bureaucracy was made up by your soul to deal with the dream of your own passing? How about that?

L: So I’ve got a soul...? Something that lasts beyond death?

MAN: Hm. Well...

L: Life. After death. Indeed.

MAN: You didn’t have many friends, am I right?

L: Excuse me?

MAN: Or how did you deal with being this smart?

L: What I really want to deal with, Mr...?

MAN: Justin.

L: Mr. Justin... is which options I have. What sense is there in justice and retribution? If you’re an official here, official for what? Who’s in power here? I know there are gods of death, and I know there’s a life after death, because that’s where I’m stuck right now, it seems.

JUSTIN: There is no life after death. Human existence ends in nothingness. 

L: And yet, I’m here. And so is Watari. And who are all these people lurking about outside? Why are those here?

JUSTIN: You’ve got a whole eternity to think about it, dear L.

L: Oh really? Do I now? Human life is finite and life after death is infinite? Am I immortal now?

JUSTIN: Exactly. You’re correct. It’s not my task to let myself be interrogated here.

L: And who’s task is it then? Where do I finally get answers?

__________

We hear someone talking to “Vladimir” in a friendly way. Very soon it becomes clear that it’s the US president speaking, a very obvious Trump parody. The thing is, I don’t take any joy in being reminded Trump exists, and this audio drama spends an extraordinary amount of time letting him talk. For my own sanity, I’m not going to actually translate those scenes in whole. If anyone REALLY wants to know what Death Note Audio Drama Trump is saying, I guess you can beg me for it? Just know that there is a lot of racism, sexism, and general being stupid. It’s exactly like you’d imagine Trump, really.

An exhausted secretary named Trevor tries to introduces Near to the president. Near succeeded Paula Virilio as SPK leader. Near has to explain the situation in baby-talk for the president to get it. But basically, they think Kira is still in Japan. In this verse, Near actually got all of L’s data and only the version in the task force was fully deleted. Near suspects that Kira is among the task force.

Near wants to act, now that Soichiro is retired. 

___________

Bar noises.

SACHIKO: Alright, darling. Did you already think about how you want to spend your retirement?

SOICHIRO: Not really, Sachiko. I was just too busy.

SACHIKO: For 35 years.

SOICHIRO: Very funny. I don’t know... it seems an eternity ago that we were young. 

His phone rings.

SACHIKO: Don’t you dare pick up. Not tonight.

SOICHIRO: It’s Kitamura. 

SACHIKO: Then give it to me. I’m going to give him a piece of my mind.

She picks up.

SACHIKO: Koreyoshi Kitamura, you sad mutation of the human species. Was it really too much to ask to come to the goodbye party of my husband? After all you two went through over the years, you old rascal? If this is still about who I married, that’s been decades ago! Grow up! .... huh? Oh. I thought you were... Yes, er, this is his phone, but... Uh. Right. 

SOICHIRO: Who is that?

SACHIKO: Oh my god, no. No! You better talk to my husband about this. N-no, he’s right next to--- Don’t hang up! Don’t!

SOICHIRO: What’s wrong? Is he alright? 

SACHIKO: What is a Death Note....?

___________

Kitamura talks to Mello, while he is tied to a chair. Mello introduces himself as M. He asks about the Kira case, but Kitamura doesn’t know much of use. Because this is an audio drama and the audience needs to know what’s up, Mello just randomly explains the concept of Wammy’s House to Kitamura. 

__________

L: Looks like rain. As if there was a storm coming.

WATARI: But it will never come. It only feels like it, the whole time. Another strange aspect of this place. 

L: I’ll have to be back soon. When exactly?

WATARI: I don’t know, Mr. L. Time moves differently here. People stand around, they wait. Some are playing cards. I’m especially sorry for the young ones. 

L: Who?

WATARI: The millenials. They come here and they’re totally lost without their cell phones. They just hang around like... zombies. 

L: But not you, right Watari? You’re always busy. Keep the old brain moving, right?

WATARI: Well, Mr L, I gave my best to put the puzzle pieces together correctly. But it’s difficult.

L: Are there TVs here? Computers?

WATARI: Nothing like that. The only hints I can get come from other people who made the passage.

L: Oh, good. What did you find out?

WATARI: You and me... we were killed.

L: I got that part.

WATARI: I think it was because we got closer and closer to the truth. 

L: Well, that makes sense. What happened in the five years since?

WATARI: Wendy had an accident with her motorbike. Ivor died of liver cancer. The whole group of Yotsuba executives just dropped dead. All at the same time.

L: Someone did his homework.

WATARI: My thoughts exactly.

L: Kira is still active. The task force, who is leading that now?

WATARI: What do you think?

________

More attempts to explain the situation to Trump. They explain someone has been faking to be L. 

________

Kitamura has been kidnapped, but despite just having retired, Soichiro wants to stay and work on the case anyway. The kidnappers are asking for the Death Note in return. 

_________

Mello accuses Kitamura of having been really fucking shit at handling the Kira case. He apparently looked at all the security camera material from HQ. He plays a recording from it that shows L.

L: You’re looking sad, Rem. Even more so than usual. What’s up? ..... Oh really, that’s it? Why did it take you so long?

For Kitamura, L is alone in the recording, so L is alone with Rem. We then flash back to the scene.

_____________

L: Did you come for me, Rem?

REM: I did not come to take life, but to gift it. 

L: To me?

REM: No, you have to die. And by defying fate, I’ll be destroyed.

L: Not dead? You said ‘destroyed’ as if total annihilation was a state equaling death. 

REM: These are the final seconds of your life L, prepare yourself. 

L: Prepare for what? Your existence along already implies that death isn’t the end for me. Your hesitation meanwhile implies that destruction is definitely your end. 

REM: I... I don’t know.

L: You spend your eternity feeding off the life of others. As long as you take life, you’ll live forever. But you’ll put an end to your existence today, just to stop me?

REM: Yes, I will.

L: Just, why? 

REM: Out of love.

L (laughs): Love? Love is the power that brings a goddess of death to her knees?

REM: Don’t mock me, L. Don’t you dare! 

L: You’re in love? You know I am very close to ending the case. 

REM: She sacrificed so much for him. This is the only way to restore her lifespan and guarantee her safety. 

L: The price is paid in human lives. The Death Note has a price... for her. I was right then. It was her. And she gave something up for the man she loves. And that can only---

Beeping.

REM: What’s that?

L: The emergency data transmission. It’s only activated when Watari is in danger. 

REM: He had to pass as well.

L: What?! The old man never even hurt a fly! He was a good person!

REM: He was just about to bring the evidence.

L: It’s just as I expected... The identity of the two Kiras... I was right!

REM: Your time is up. I have to kill you now and give my remaining time to her. 

L: I was right, do you hear that?! I was--- 

Glass shattering, falling noises.

_____________

Near also has this video, he points out sand falling on the video. He assumes that’s the death of a shinigami. 

_____________

The kidnappers call Soichiro again. When Soichiro refuses to give the notebook, they shoot Kitamura live on the phone. 

They already have Sayu present as a backup hostage too. 

______________

WATARI: I knew it was a heart attack. And I knew I was being discarded. It was all I could do to press the emergency button. And I could still hear the alarm, I knew it worked.

L: So you deleted all data and transferred it to Winchester. 

WATARI: Mister Ruvie should have received them. And he surely knew how to interpret the circumstances.

L: Do we know what he did with that? Were my successors already ready?

WATARI: I am... not sure about that.

L: I’m sure you had someone in mind. You talked about a replacement for me time and time again.

WATARI: There were several candidates, yes. But the older one... was a little problematic. I am not sure he’s got the right personality.

L: And the younger one?

WATARI: Yes, he could have taken the responsibilities. But he really was so very young. I am not sure if he was ready.

L: I have to go back.

WATARI: We can’t go back. Death is a one-way street.

L: Is that really true?

_______________

Misa and Light on a phonecall. Misa suggests killing Sayu, so that Soichiro won’t exchange the notebook. Light refuses this. They have a longer debate about this, where Misa points out that they can’t let the notebook fall into the wrong hands, but Light remains in refusal.

______________

Near, out of breath, arrives at the task force headquarters.

NEAR: I’m here to talk to chief inspector Yagami.

LIGHT: I am Yagami.

NEAR: Really? Is today open day and everyone’s bringing their children?

LIGHT: Looks like. And whose child are you?

NEAR: Call me Near. We just got here from the US.

LIGHT: Of course. I immediately noticed your subtle and humble approach. CIA?

NEAR: CIA, FBI, NSA, whatever you want. We’re a unity spanning through all organizations and we follow the same goals as you. 

Near explains that he replaced Virilio on her job and he’s very arrogant about it all. Light also remarks on that. The conversation is then interrupted by a call that Soichiro stole the notebook to do the exchange on his own.

Near then talks his way into cooperation in this case.

____________

We now follow Soichiro as he goes to the place of exchange, which is now conveniently just still in Japan. It’s in Nagasaki.

____________

Light introduces Near to the task force. They are tracking Soichiro via GPS. They decide to send a drone to Nagasaki, so they have a visual feed of the exchange when it happens.

____________

Shidoh approaches Justin to ask about his Death Note. Justin deduces that it’s the one Kira is using on Earth. He stills Shidoh to go to L, because L can help him find the notebook.

_____________

Near is still flying a drone to follow Soichiro, amazing.. Light is contacting Nagasaki police. The whole exchange sequence is pretty long and not really relevant, it’s just a whole lot of description on who is where when.

Mello also uses a drone to bring the notebook away. The gangster who wasn’t killed in a notebook test gets arrested. 

____________

The gangster gets interrogated by Matsuda, but nothing really comes out of it. Light and Near talk about it and the gangster’s file.

The gangster is part of the Kinzangumi. They’re California-based organized crime with Japanese roots.

A lawyer named Yumi Hosoda waltzes into the interrogation. She’s a lawyer of the Kinzangumi. She argues with Matsuda and her lawyering gets him freed. Her arguing style makes clear that she knows of the Death Note, because her argument style relies on knowing the task force will never bring the notebook up.

Near brings up Mello’s status as a “prototype” successor, who in the end did not meet expectations, thus establishing Mello as a suspect. We then launch into a flashback.

_____________

ROGER: I didn’t say “come in”.

MELLO: I didn’t knock.

He comes in and closes the door.

MELLO: When were you going to tell me?

ROGER: Tell you what?

MELLO: That Watari is dead.

ROGER: Who told you that?

MELLO: A system crash that killed the servers for exactly 24 hours. That only happens if someone presses the emergency button.

ROGER: ....yes. It seems like our patron was killed yesterday.

MELLO: That means L is gone, too. Time for me to take over. 

ROGER: Mello, I’m sorry, my boy.

MELLO: Here it comes.

ROGER: Well, this is a longer conversation, that we will have at another time.

MELLO: We’re having this conversation exactly now. 

ROGER: ... mhmm... Near will take over. 

MELLO: He’s still a child, he didn’t even notice the download!

ROGER: He simply proved himself appropriate for this task. He’s showing greater promise.

MELLO: You mean he just absorbs everything, waiting for orders so he knows what to do. That’s why I’m standing here now and he isn’t.

ROGER: I’m sorry, Mello.

MELLO: My whole life I’ve been trained for this moment, my whole life I’ve been the golden boy, before this little punk showed up-

ROGER: There are many other tasks you can fulfill. I’m sure we’ll find a position for you that is appropriate for your talents.

MELLO: I already had a position! I was supposed to be the next L! And now I should give that up for this little boy? I’m not letting myself be degraded to an errand boy. 

ROGER: Exactly this attitude is a part of the problem, if I’m honest.

MELLO: No. You are the problem. You and Watari. You never saw it. You’re wasting your time trying to bow to the system, to respect the law. If you want to catch Kira, you have to play by his rules.

ROGER: I was afraid you’d say something like that...

MELLO:  You can be afraid, Ruvie. I’m out. And I’m taking the data with me.

ROGER: They’re worthless to you. It’s going to take years to work through them.

MELLO: Then golden boy will at least be busy.

ROGER: Don’t let things end like this.

MELLO: It’s your end, Ruvie. You made this happen. 

ROGER: Near will be the new L.

MELLO: Yeah, maybe. And I’ll be the special edition, who doesn’t play the same game as everyone else. Go ahead, send the child to find L’s killer. I’ll be there first, you’ll see.

ROGER: But what’s the cost, Mello?

MELLO: Whatever it takes. 

[13eyond13]

Hahah today seems to be fanfic recommendations' day, so top 5 lxlight AU?

Oh gosh, good question! I remember back in the day when I was a teen I hated reading AUs for some reason; I only wanted to read strictly canon-compliant stuff?? Haha I’m so glad I got over that, because there are tons of amazing AU fics out there. Here are five Lawlight AUs that I really enjoyed in no particular order:

Those Who Stand For Nothing Fall For Anything by halfpromise  [Corrupt Politician AU]:

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/8533204/1/Those-Who-Stand-For-Nothing-Fall-For-Anything

Okay, so let me just get this one out of the way right now, because I’m SURE I’m sounding like a broken record by this point, and I don’t want to make people sick of hearing about it! But I gotta include it. 

This fic was one that definitely took some warming up to for me, because it’s so unusual and so AU, but by the time I got to chapter 10 or so I was very hooked. It’s one of those mesmerizing worlds that you can settle right into and live in for weeks (it took me 3 months to read the whole thing), and I find it really stays with you and keeps popping back into your mind long after you’ve finished reading it. I think reading halfpromise’s blog and looking at her instagram for it after the fact enhanced it so much for me, as well; she seems like an incredibly sweet and humble person, and it AMAZES me how much love and sweat and tears went into writing this story! All that research and prepping and planning;  transforming all the canon cast into believable politicians and co. and seamlessly blending in a bunch of other OCs as well, the stuff like giving L such a fascinating and detailed backstory (I’d argue that Those!L is possibly an even more developed and interesting character than Light is in this world, which is a very difficult thing to achieve, and he actually became my absolute favourite part of the fic at some point even though I really didn’t like him at all starting out), etc. IDK, it’s just beautifully written and hilarious and often quite touching even despite all the rampant cynicism and casual cruelty, and I’m just very glad I got to read it!!

the forest holds strange creatures by avoidfilledwithcelluloid / @translightyagami [Cryptid AU]:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/16442660/chapters/38501852

I think this is my favourite fic by James, so much so that I gotta rec it twice in one day! I’m super impressed by the level of detail and affection that’s gone into crafting this unique little world of cryptids and thrift stores and trailers and forests; it’s just so charming, a little bit grungy and a lot sweet. I love how much Cryptid!L somehow feels entirely like L and also like a big tree monster all at once, and how cute he and Light are together with their little prickly oddball romance. I love how B is the weirdo uncle he was always meant to be, and that Near and Mello get to actually be bros! I beta’d the first chapter of this fic for James and saw it being put together behind the scenes, and sometimes when we chat he will tell me all the extra stuff he’s planned out for the world and the rest of the cast, and every character has such a funny and creative alternate life in this world that makes total sense for them. I just really admire when a writer can create their own specific little universe within a story, a place that’s so unique you could never find that exact setting anywhere else, and I think it’s definitely one of those stories, so please give it a read! (there’s apparently more to come in the future, too)

Our Bodies, Possessed by Light by Devilinthebox [Photographer/Model AU]:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/3263192/chapters/7116161

I only read this one once a couple of years ago, but it jumped out in my mind again when I was mulling over this ask. From what I remember it’s a world in which L is a famous photographer/artist, and Light is a model and his muse. I remember it being very deep and serious and beautifully written; there were so many wise insights into human nature woven into the characters and the story. I felt like I was legitimately learning truths about life the whole time I was reading it, haha!

Shinigami in the Dark by Twyd [Strip Club AU]:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/6750253

Sooo a strip club AU is definitely not something I thought I’d ever read for the Death Note cast lol, but it works surprisingly well here, and has so many clever little things going on in the way the whole thing is put together. I always wish this writer’s stories were ten times longer (though I also greatly admire how much she gets across with so few words), because her fics never fail to draw me right in, and I just want to live in them all day!

High by Twyd [High School AU]:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/6600925

Same author as the previous one (they’re my all-time fave, so you’ll see me pimping them out here a lot). This little fic almost feels a bit more like a college AU than a high school AU, but the creative set-up and interesting dynamics between everyone are so much fun to read that I wish it was way longer so I could hang out in this little world more and find out what happens next!

[dressed-to-keehl]

Twenty Questions (DN fic)

Happy happy birthday to the amazing @themihaelkeehl <3 this one of a kind super rare gay has been in the world a whole year longer and tbh we should be thanking him for that. i love u stark, so i give to you all i have to offer: ANGST

MxM. One shot, post reunion. Just when you think you really know someone, they surprise you. If that person is particularly surprising, though, maybe that’s a sign you knew them all along. Matt and Mello never knew the hardest part would come after they found each other again. Ft. existential dread, light (also sad???) smut, the wrong way to clean out an ashtray, mario kart & the unbearable discomfort of relearning someone you used to love (and probably still do).

Touching reunions were great and all, but the last time Matt touched anyone it had been to steal their wallet.

I.

“Why did you go?”

It was four A.M. and Matt knew the answer to that question, not in words but intuition. In the silence that came after he felt the answer spell itself out in goosebumps on the back of his neck. It was the kind of question that could only be asked at four A.M., only when the other person was sleeping. Mello wasn’t- at the moment or in general. Matt was realising this later than he should have (which was when he saw Mello again for the first time and counted without deciding to do so all the ways in which Mello had changed).

“Go to sleep,” Mello ordered from the pull-out mattress he’d demanded he take. Matt had offered him the bed. He hadn’t hoped they’d share it but he remembered when he had. Hope, however abstract, hinted at some actual belief. It was hard to believe Mello could bend him over and fuck him when he couldn’t sleep with a bedsheet touching his skin.

It was the burn. When Matt looked at Mello for the first time in years he’d seen the desperation in his eyes and the dark circles beneath them, the gaunt meanness that hadn’t been there before. He had seen the burn but hadn’t looked at it. Hadn’t processed it. Couldn’t.

“It’s just- how is that fair,” Matt muttered, lips sticking to his pillow. His back was turned to Mello and he looked to the alarm clock glowing through the room. If he looked back at Mello he would see him silhouetted in red like he might have been in so many night clubs, so many back alleys Matt would never go to or know about. The clock read 4:01. “I looked for you forever and you knew where I was the whole time. How is it fair that you got to show up whenever the hell you felt like it?”

“Go to sleep,” Mello said again. But he didn’t, and Matt didn’t.

II.

“Since when the fuck do you smoke?” Mello asked, hovering unsteadily in the doorway to the kitchen.

Matt had prepared for breakfast: removed bowl from sink, put cereal inside, told himself this would all be okay despite the weight of his certainty that things rarely were. Hence the state of his kitchen- the mouse shit in the corners, the takeaway cup and the moment it had become an ashtray. Hence this cigarette and the few that had already come before it. He had bought Cocoa Puffs, though. Mello might have been thanking him for that and years other things- his patience, for one. 

But Matt didn’t want thanks. It had been years since he wanted anything at all.

“Thought you were a Catholic,” Matt said, dropping the cigarette in with all the others. It didn’t go out. “Since when did you become a Puritan?”

“I don’t mind,” Mello snapped, minding. “It was just a question.”

Matt looked at the ember still burning away in the cup, like the molten surface of a new planet or a very, very old one. Either just born or dying. “Is it the fire?”

“I said I don’t mind.”

Quickly, decisively, Matt poured what remained of the milk into the takeaway cup with a gurgle and a hiss.

“Fuck,” Mello gaped as the milk settled then turned grey. “Are you even going to throw that away?”

“Obviously,” Matt said, though it hadn’t been obvious at all. Mello would find worse in the place if he stayed long enough (and Matt hated thinking of Mello that way, as an if, but he’d forced himself to think that way for years now and he wasn’t about to undo all that progress).

(He had maybe five real skills and undoing progress was three of them).

Mello watched in horror as Matt chucked the thing, aimless and unlidded, into the bin without so much as a trash bag or a second look. But he let go of the doorframe and entered.

III.

Matt didn’t do much during the day but hack into savings accounts and masturbate, so he had a fair amount of time to teach Mello how to kick ass at Mario Kart.

Mello didn’t need to be taught much of anything, except sometimes A Lesson. But the silence was too much. It wasn’t that Mello was quiet. It’s that he was loud in all the wrong ways- banging around while he got ready (ready for what, Matt couldn’t determine, since he could barely walk around). Shouting obscenities whenever his flesh struck the most minute of obstacles. Putting on classical music while he took a shower just like back at Wammy’s. Fuck, breathing. But he didn’t say much. Matt didn’t say much either, but he figured he wasn’t the one who had to do all the explaining.

There were things that had changed about him over the years. One by one scars had accumulated, some long and thin, some raised and circular. He was an adult now, done with all the growing except aging. But sometimes he looked- really looked- at swaths of his bare skin for the first time in weeks. He saw the damage all at once and for all his stagnation, his sitting around in the quiet dark, he imagined himself changing shape. Sometimes after strung out nights he sat up to see his fisheye reflection in the old computer screen, face grey and shimmering like a mirage. He didn’t turn the computer on. He stared. When he could do anything he played video games. Working, talking, exercising: those were things people did to forget they were dying. Nothing else. Not to him.

Those were things he could not yet explain to himself.

“Second fucking place,” Mello grunted, tucking his knees beneath him as he leaned forward on the dingy couch. He chewed his lip and mashed the A button. P1 blinked in red on the screen. Matt was P2 underneath. The two of them again, rank and file. Listed in order. Festive music blared in the background and Mello smashed the button again.

“It’s not bad to be in second place for most of the race,” Matt said. “Mells. Wait a minute. You have to get to the scoreboards first- anyway. Sometimes it’s better to get there right at the end.”

“Yeah, only I didn’t.”

“Idiot, I mean you will.” Bowser’s Castle. The evil lair, the magma fire, the road laid out predetermined. A concrete and sudden ending. Matt felt cold. “I mean... when you’re in first place you don’t get any good items. And you’re a target. And there are some attacks that are only meant for you- blue shells. When you’re in second you can creep up without all those disadvantages. Sneak in.”

“Don’t get many items when you’re in second, either,” Mello said, and the countdown started. Mello had been ready the whole time and Matt was only just then leaning forward.

“But you get something,” Matt insisted, voice rising in panic before he had the chance to stop it. “And isn’t that...?”

3, 2, 1. Then there was only forward, only further away.

IV.

“Are we going to talk about it?” Matt asked when he found the bathroom redecorated with shards of glass, the mirror rearranged in gashes across the tile floor- and Mello, in the centre of it all, looking down with the lights turned off.

There was no answer, so he’d gotten his. He left Mello standing in the dark.

V.

The next time he approached Mello, it was with caution and a handle of Pinnacle Chocolate Vodka. Mello never went anywhere unarmed and Matt was learning that neither should he.

“Wasn’t it your favourite?” Matt asked, almost indignant.

“It was. When I was thirteen and we slept in bunk beds.”

“Bunk bed,” Matt said. “You refused to sleep on the top.”

“So did you,” Mello accused.

“Yeah, but you were assigned to the top. And instead...”

And instead of speaking Matt remembered why he so often didn’t. He remembered that and other things- Mello curled up with his hair falling over his eyes, mouth soft and breathing slow. Matt knew theoretically that Mello often shared his bed, but most nights at Wammy’s Mello was awake when Matt went to sleep. He was awake when Matt woke up. If he ever set an alarm Matt didn’t hear it. He was an alarm- loud and existing in a constant state of anticipation. And then Mello downed half a bottle of the trashiest vodka the local degenerates could buy them and Matt saw him calm. Matt saw him still. And sure he’d spent the whole night raking his hands through his hair, ranting about Near, speaking in some Slavic language Matt couldn’t identify through the molten accent of liquor. But now-

Matt had turned away, closed his eyes and felt Mello’s chest expand against his back and shrink away. It was too private a moment to witness even as he inhabited it. But he remembered the way Mello looked. And now-

“Let’s give this another go,” Mello said, scar tissue whitening on the neck of the bottle.

Hours passed. The bottle was half-empty and then gone, in a moment, like so many things had been. Mello, for starters. Gone before Matt ever noticed him leaving. And Matt had smoked fourteen cigarettes with his torso and arms all the way out the window and Mello had unlaced the leather pants he insisted on wearing even though he could barely make it from the kitchen to the mattress. And the Game Cube controller was ripped off its cord and Matt had discovered the reason he loved video games in the first place- that they were a competition like the ones he disliked so much in the real world but in a video game what you worked for, you got. If you solved the puzzle, you won. If you beat the level, you moved forward. In video games everything was correct and in this world the love of his life couldn’t sleep with the sheets over his arms or tell him the truth, apparently. Video games were fair.

And Matt, of course, was drunk.

“How’d you get involved with the mafia in the first place?” he asked, sliding the window shut behind him. “Mean- I understand we got a particular set of skills. Didn’t exactly run away from Winchester to snag a part time at a Starbucks. I get how you got involved with them. How'd they get involved with you?”

“Same way anything else happens,” Mello said, sighing back into the cushions. He threw his legs up over the armrest. Matt hoped it was a sign of comfort but suspected it had more to do with the liquor. “With persistence. And persuasion.”

“Persistence. Persuasion.” Matt threw himself down on the couch, watching Mello’s hair rustle with the slight disturbance. “That supposed to be an answer?”

“No.”

“What, then?”

Mello flopped his head down then, hair spilling onto Matt’s thighs. Matt sucked in a gasp, face going red- willing his body, or parts of it, not to do what it very well might. Touching reunions were great and all, but the last time Matt had touched anyone it had been the steal their wallet. He was not in control of any potential hard-ons any more than he was in control of the rest of his life. Given the circumstance, that was to say, not at all. Whiskey dick was real but chocolate vodka dick had never stopped anyone in a night club bathroom, and it wouldn’t here. So he held his breath and ignored the swelling warmth inside him until Mello breathed again.

It was a long sigh. Matt looked down; Mello was looking up. Not at him or at anyone else. Matt could see all the places the shrapnel had entered his face and his eyes were clear and smooth like sea glass- crushed into form by every breaking wave.

“All I’ve got,” Mello said simply.

And Matt went cold. ‘What did they make you do?”

VI.

“Do you like that?” Mello asked in a language Matt couldn’t comprehend.

All Matt knew now were shape and colour, pressure and temperature, his chin dragging back and forth across the blanket as he felt Mello inside him in a different way from usual. Less metaphor. More handcuffs. The saliva on his lips. Mello’s fingernails cutting into his hips and the metal clinking behind his back. Again. Again. Himself, grinding against the comforter in unconscious defiance.

Mello drew in closer then, fingernails digging in so hard Matt felt the skin split. When he thrusted he felt the sting, the cold of the handcuffs now smashed into his flesh and the heat of Mello’s body all up and down his own. Mello’s hair on the back of his neck. Then one hand let go and Mello was pulling on his wrists, on the handcuffs. Matt’s shoulders jerked back and he let out a cry of pain and of wonder. Mello was right there and he was falling into the warmth building inside him.

His shoulders drew further and further back until his body was shaking from the effort of the exertion, from the pain running up and down his arms and from Mello’s other hand, moving down to this thigh and squeezing til the skin purpled. Matt moved against the blankets and Mello’s fingernails drew blood.

“What the fuck did I tell you?” Mello asked

“M-Mels?”

“I said don’t.”

VII.

And then unspoken as they showered, Mello holding his hair up and spitting curses when Matt rubbed the soap into his neck: did they ask or did you offer?

“It’s been a long time,” Matt said, as Mello’s hair flopped back down onto his skin. It was wet now and so heavy, not like what it really was- softer than air. And Matt saw now as he had every fucking time before that Mello was like air too, always moving higher and higher until there was absolutely nothing left. Pressing up against the edge of a vacuum. Mello spat as a stream of water trickled into his mouth and Matt wondered if he knew he looked too beautiful to be dangerous. It was exactly what made him so. “We’ve both done things we’re not proud of.”

“Not me,” Mello said, and turned the faucet off. Matt slid his arms around the clearest part of his stomach and in the quiet, tapwater slapped against the acrylic.

VIII.

“Mels?” Matt asked in the morning, staring down at an empty mattress.

He was up in a second in a panic, ripping off the covers Mello hadn’t used anyway when he heard the shower drumming away through the bullshit imitation of a living room wall. And the where are you? he’d almost said hung on his lips even though you didn’t need to ask questions to people who were already gone.

You didn’t need to, but he had.

He took a minute to breathe, sliding down between his bed and the mattress on the floor. If Mello was there right now he’d be staring right at him, but he wasn’t. Already taking showers on his own. Not only bearing the pain alone but preferring it. And here was Matt, annihilating a cigarette ass naked staring at his ex-and-current everything’s pillow-

There did appear to be something under it, though. He lifted it up.

On one side: never mention this note is you forgive me.

The other: never mention this note if you’re willing to let me stay.

Matt handled it the way he did most things: thoughtlessly, and with dead certainty. He stood up and he walked to the window, where rain was hammering against the glass. He held the note out until the paper melted against his skin. Until the words blurred into liquid.

The shower turned off, and Matt heard footsteps.

He hoped Mello wasn’t wearing a towel.

[beyondplusultra]

Untitled, MxN

I unearthed this unfinished thing that I apparently wrote so long ago that gay marriage was not yet legal. It involves Mello, Near, married-life problems, a disgruntled Matt, and an Optimus Prime figurine with its head bitten off. I hope I get enough motivation to finish this because frankly? I like it.

---

Matt ducked as another game—both disk and case—sailed over his head with a velocity that, he bet, would break whatever poor thing it hit. Fortunately, it didn’t hit anything. Unfortunately, it sailed right through his bedroom’s open window. Matt raced over in time to see the game fall three stories down all the way to the sidewalk, halting some random kid in his tracks. The kid looked around nervously as if he couldn’t believe his sheer luck before picking the game up and running off.

“Hey get back here!” Matt howled. Then, since the boy didn’t get back there, he turned on his best friend; the one trashing his apartment. “Mello! I just bought Kirby’s Epic Yarn!”

He felt his anger mounting. He hadn’t minded that it had barely been eight in the morning when Mello had knocked violently on the door and stormed in the second a groggy, only-in-boxers Matt cracked it open. He hadn’t minded (though his neighbors probably did) when Mello had started raging, yelling at his face and abusing the furniture. But now, the psychopathic blonde was touching his precious games.

Enough was enough, even for Matt.

Psychopathic blonde in question, however, couldn’t care less. Mello was busy having a fit. And though Matt felt inexorably close to having one of his own, he just flopped helplessly onto the bed and listened to the tantrum-throwing, hissy thing that was spewing out profanities at a hundred miles per hour.

“—fucking moron that I am, why did I even fucking suggest it, why did I even think it up in the first place? What the I hell was I on? Marrying Near, Near of all people, the guy who nothing is ever good enough for—”

Matt stowed away the rest of his games before they could be thrown out. “Hey, everyone does say that marriage is no picnic.”

Mello still wasn’t listening. “—and according to him, we’re not even married, we’re just registered as domestic partners in Nevada, which isn’t California, apparently, and like I said, that’s just not good enough for him, the little son of a bitch!” he spat bitterly. “He says we should wait it out until it becomes totally legal, which in my opinion is utter bullsh—”

Seeing how quickly the rant had traversed from Near to the law, Matt decided that it was a good time to interrupt. There was no way of knowing where the tirade would head next. It could suddenly turn into a vendetta against llamas at the rate Mello was going.

“Just tell me what you fought about this time, Mels,” he sighed patiently, not adding that the fight was probably pretty one-sided and initiated by Mello himself. That was common knowledge.

“It doesn’t matter! There’s no fixing it anymore!” Mello cried, turning around to face Matt.

The latter was immediately scared witless, but not because of what Mello had said and the degree of certainty with which he said them. It was those eyes. His best friend’s blue eyes were piercing as always… But not with menace or whatever was usually there that made Mello who he was. They were wild with despair and wet with a helpless sense of anguish. Matt had only ever seen that look once or twice before—both memories resolutely flushed down the drain of his subconscious, because they had been so depressing—and seeing Mello like a completely lost wreck again was almost too much to bear.

Matt gulped it down then shook it off. “Nah, don’t think like that…”

But Mello had sunk down upon the bed, quivering with the effort of trying not to cry. “There’s no need to think about it, he already said so himself. He can’t take much more of it. And to be honest with you, Matt, I’m not sure I can either.”

“Hey now, young man,” the redhead cooed in what was supposed to be a motherly tone. He sat down on his bed, lowered his goggles and put a comforting arm around Mello’s shoulders. “That’s nonsense. You two are just in a rut right now, and you’ll get out of it. You just need a little something-something. You know what the both of you need?”

“An asylum.”

“A good counseling session,” Matt said decisively. “And I know just the person to help.”

~o~

Near had been rather occupied sitting in the middle of the quiet apartment, halfheartedly making his toy version of a Mach Five go whoosh along the carpet.

He knew where Mello was, so he knew that his partner hadn’t abandoned him—not yet, anyway. Judging by the ruckus that had ascended from the lower floor and continued until around five minutes ago, Mello had gone off to complain to their neighbor.

Yes, Matt lived at the end of the corridor below theirs.

The living arrangements had been Mello’s idea. Sure, why not start a new life only a floor above the old one? Near didn’t particularly care as long as the place was livable. The apartment complex was a nice one, the neighborhood wasn’t all that bad, but their neighbors moved out frequently. In the span of a week, he discovered that the only thing that made the place unlivable was Mello himself. He was honestly such a pain in the ass. The manager, Linda, wanted to kick them out so badly. It was only the money that kept them there and the knowledge that if Mello left, Matt would too. And that was unthinkable; in Linda’s mind, anyway.

Besides, if the craziness didn’t calm down, Near would move out and that would be the end of that.

It wasn’t his fault, he said to himself calmly. It wasn’t his fault that Mello was—always was, always will be—a complete idiot at times, and yet he had succumbed to the advances (so who was the idiot now?), and thought that that there was a sliver of a chance that after years of not getting along too well, this time would be different. And it had been different, even for just a while. It had been different enough to allow him to say yes, you and me can be together if you really want us to be. Anyway, who could have resisted the spun sunshine hair, those angel eyes that held too much malice for anything from heaven, the ivory smile and voice as smooth as melting butter? And even with all that taken away, Mello would still remain; the sexy, feisty, I’ll-have-it-my-way-or-else attitude that Near, for all of his credibility as a genius, just couldn’t say no to.

If Mello hadn’t been so damn appealing in the first place, then they wouldn’t be in this mess.

So no, Near chanted in his head, it wasn’t his fault.

Then again, it might not be Mello’s, either.

He stood up and was about to fight his growing misery somewhere else when he spotted a peculiar something sticking out from under one of the couches. He shuffled over and picked it up. The thing was a headless Optimus Prime, and Near stared blankly at it. He remembered full well how it was decapitated, the cause of which subsequently led to the loss of Near’s and Mello’s heads as well.

That’s right.

It was all the baby’s fault.

~o~

[outlawbarbiex]

I used to do these fuckin’ things constantly. Let’s kill some time while my laundry is drying. :P

What’s your favourite cereal? I’m not a huge cereal person, but my favorite would probably be frosted shredded wheat.

Is there a bus stop near your house? Yeah, I’m sure.

Do you prefer red wine or white wine? Red.

What’s the last airport you were at? Why were you there? Probably Nashville’s airport. I think I was there when I went to visit Tiffany in Orlando a few years ago.

Who do you live with? I recently moved in with my boyfriend and his mom.

Do you read reddit? If so, how often and what subreddits do you like? Yeah, sometimes. A good friend of mine got me on it a year or so ago. My favorite sub is probably Let’s Not Meet.

Have you recently broken up with a significant other or even just a friend? Yes, actually. I ended a seven-year relationship about a month ago.

What’s the weather like today? Is it nice enough to go outside? It’s cloudy and sprinkling, but still feels rather nice.

Do you know anyone who’s had a baby recently? Not that I can think of.

Have you used a pen or pencil today? What did you write down? No.

What does your last text message say and who is it from? Tiffany said, “Ironically looked at his twitter yesterday and he had in his bio ‘don’t cry at my funeral’ or some Shit. I was like uhh 0.0 I’m hurting for her :/ I kno she loved him.”

Can you count how many times you’ve seen your favourite film? No, I can’t. I’m not even sure I could pick just one favorite.

When was the last time you ate marshmallows? It’s been a long time. I’m not a fan.

Do you listen to any podcasts? How do you listen to them? No.

How old will you be in the year 2030? 38. Ew.

How often does the kettle in your house get used? I’ve never seen them use a kettle.

Does your skin bruise easily? Do you have any bruises right now? What from? Hahaha. I have some bruises and hickeys. 😉

What was the last thing you spent $150 or more on? Fuckin’ bills and groceries. Other than that, probably makeup.

Do you prefer yes or no questions or more open-ended questions? I like both.

What brand of toilet paper do you usually buy? Quilted Northern.

If I knocked on your door right now, would you be acceptable dressed? For sitting at home, yeah. I’m in a tank top and pajama shorts, as always

Why did you leave your last job? I moved back to Nashville.

What colour were the last socks you wore? Black.

Have you ever eaten at a restaurant and left without paying? Once, but I went back and paid the following day.

What was the last thing that made you laugh out loud? Darrell trying to act like he was pissy with me.

What’s your favourite scent of air freshener? Um, I’m not sure if I really have a favorite.

How many weddings have you ever been to? Five or so.

Do you know anyone named Nora? No.

Are your hands and feet in good condition or could you do with a mani-pedi? I could use a mani-pedi. The polish is chipping off pretty badly, especially on my fingernails. I’m awful at painting them.

When was the last time you played a board game? What did you play? I’m not sure, which means it’s been far too long. I love board games.

How old were you when you first became sexually active?  15.

Have you ever been to a festival for beer or other type of alcohol? I think so.

Do you own a record player and/or vinyls? No. I had a few vinyls, but I left them with my ex.

When was the last time you went out for drinks? A couple of weeks ago, I think. I typically drink at home.

Have you ever been to a strip club? No.

What’s your favourite kind of smoothie? Blueberry or mango.

Have you taken out the trash today? Not today.

How often do you wear make-up? I’ve gotten so into makeup over the past six months or so, but I’ve been slacking lately with everything else that’s been going on. I wore a bit yesterday, though.

What’s your opinion on The Simpsons? I’ve never watched a full episode.

Do you prefer horizontal or vertical stripes? Vertical.

What’s your favourite brand of deodorant/antiperspirant? Secret.

Do you know anyone who has been through a divorce? Yes.

If you had the money, would you take taxis everywhere instead of driving? No, I have my own car.

Have you ever done a juice cleanse? No.

Do you have any friends who you can’t decide if they’re attractive or not? No.

Is the inside of your fridge clean right now or does it need a clean out? It’s pretty clean.

When was the last time you washed the dishes? A few days ago.

Are there any magazines that you read on a regular basis? No.

Do you have to pay for parking in most places in the town/city you live in? Yes.

What’s the first thing you tend to do when you have a headache? Take Ibuprofen and drink caffeine.

Can you hear lots of traffic from your house? Does it bother you? No. Our apartment faces the back of the complex away from the road.

Have you ever had proper Canadian poutine with the squeaky cheese? No.

Do your parents know how to operate smartphones and/or computers? Yes, my mom more than my dad.

When was the last time you wore a uniform of any kind? What colour was it? Thursday when I went to work. It’s all black, at least until I get my blue shirts instead.

Have you ever lost enough weight to drop a dress size? Yes.

Do you own Monopoly? Is it the original or a special version? Yes, I have Fallout Monopoly.

What was the last thing you said out loud? “Okay, have fun.”

You have to choose one: cats or dogs? Cats.

Would someone being either a cat or dog person effect you dating them? No.

How do you travel to and from work? I drive or carpool with my boyfriend.

Do you primarily use cash or card for your purchases? Why? Card. I hardly ever have cash.

Have you ever been to a stadium concert? Yes.

What’s your favourite flavour of soda, pop or whatever else you call it? Mello Yello.

What level of brightness do you usually keep your phone at? I typically keep it as low as it will go, but it automatically adjusts to the lighting.

Have you ever attended a religious or private school?  No.

Do you have any pets and are they cuddly? I left my cat with my ex.

What’s the worst job you’ve ever had?  Fucking Captain D’s. I took the first job I could find when I was taking care of my mom after her surgery. It was the most miserable four months of my life.

How many cars does your household own?  All three of us have our own cars.

Do you know anyone named Edward or any nickname of that? Yeah, my brother-in-law.

What time do you usually have dinner?  I think we typically end up eating between 6-7 PM, but it varies.

Are there any cracks or scuffs on your phone?  Probably. My case is busted.

What���s your favourite meat? Steak.

Do you need glasses to read or drive or need them all the time?  I don’t wear glasses, though lately I’ve been thinking I could use them while driving at night.

How did you celebrate your last New Years Eve?  Man, I don’t even remember at this point. I don’t think I did much of anything.

Is the internet fast where you live?  Yes.

What is your favourite meal of the day and why?  I love breakfast foods, though lately I haven’t been eating breakfast most days.

Do you like long surveys or short surveys better?  Either are fine. I used to do these things constantly.

Xbox, PlayStation or neither? PlayStation.

Have you ever been to a cocktail bar? Yes.

Do you consider yourself a fast typer? Yes.

What’s the best amusement park you’ve ever visited?  I’ve only ever been to Beech Bend.

Do you keep the cabinets in your kitchen and bathroom organized? Yes.

Have you ever had a romantic fling?  Yes.

Are you a very forgetful person?  Sometimes, though it’s not as bad as it used to be since I’ve stopped smoking pot.

What was the last movie you saw in the cinema?  Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2.

What colour is your shampoo?  It’s like… silvery gray.

Are you doing anything tomorrow?  Yes. I need to go to the old apartment and get the last load of my things, take my ex a couple of things, grocery shop, etc.

Do you know anyone who’s gotten pregnant over the age of 40? Not that I know of.

Who does most of the grocery shopping in your home? My boyfriend’s mom, though I went with her last week and probably will this week, too.

Are you listening to music right now?  Yes. Wish U the Best by Blackbear.

What was the last thing you had to eat? An oreo cheesecake blizzard from Dairy Queen.Bottom of Form

What would you say is the worst part of high school, period?  Probably the cliques.

What is your favorite color of apple? Red, green or yellow?  Red.

How old will you be on your mother’s 68th birthday? Is that ‘old’ to you?  36. I suppose that’s not too old.

Ever thought you were dying of something you weren’t even close to having? Probably.

Ever want to be a doctor? Is it because of all the hospital shows?  Yes.

What do you think of all these reality shows that try to alter personality?  I don’t know or care. I’m not a fan of “reality” television.

Where are your favorite pair of shoes in the whole world right now?  They’re at my old apartment.

Do you live anywhere near a mall? Which one exactly?  I think the closest one is probably Rivergate.

Do you like drawing smiley faces or do you think they’re overrated?  Uh, they’re fine.

If you were dying who would you say goodbye to first out of everyone?  My nephews, I guess.

Are you someone who actually likes to babysit children?  I typically don’t mind.

Do you ever have those ‘ah ha!’ moments? Do those annoy you? Yes, but they don’t annoy me.

Do you hardly ever remember where you put things at?  No.

When is the next time you’ll eat a cupcake, if you know when?  I don’t know.

Does your family go on a lot of vacations? Are they more boring or exciting?  Unfortunately, no. I was actually talking to Betty about this a couple nights ago.

Where did you last buy socks from? What do those socks look like?  I bought some plain black crew socks from Walmart a few weeks ago.

Do you ever lay in the grass and look up at the sky, just because?  It’s been a while.

When do you normally go to sleep on the weekends?  I’ve been going to bed about midnight every night for past few weeks.

Have you ever met someone with the same ‘biggest fear’ as you? Probably.

Do you ever have movie nights with your significant other?  Yes, though it’s been a couple of weeks. I got him to watch Orange is the New Black with me before the next season so we’ve been grinding those out.

Would you rather write with a pen or a pencil? Why is this? Pen. It’s smoother and lasts longer.

Do you like candy bars? Are you trying to slack off of them?  They’re okay. I don’t eat a lot of candy.

Who was the last person to call you fat, if anyone at all?  I don’t know or care.

What color skin does the last person you danced with have?  White.

What is your favorite number? Is it significant with your life?  My favorite number has always been three, though I’m not entirely sure why.

Does anyone ever constantly act like a pervert around you?  Hahahahaha, something like that.

Are you afraid of being kidnapped if you go outside at night time?  No.

Has your mother ever called your school because of your grades?  Yes.

What is the worst name a friend has ever called you? Do you remember?  I don’t remember, but they’re probably not that great of a friend if they’re seriously calling me names.

The best field trip you’ve ever been on; where was it to anyway?  Umm, probably a farm I went to as a kid, I guess.

In the next twenty minutes, what will you be doing and where will you be? I’m going to finish this, smoke a cigarette, get my clothes out of the dryer, put them away, and take a shower.

Do you like showers or baths better? Why did you choose your choice?  I prefer showers. They make me feel more clean than baths do and hot water is a must.

Do you have a religion? Is it the same as your best friend’s?  I’m not religious, no. I’m more spiritual, as is my best friend.

Are you a controversial person? Do your views oppose other’s?  I have some views that differ from people I know, yes.

Have you ever thrown a surprise party for someone? Who for?  Not that I recall.

Do you work? If so, have you ever been fired, then rehired from the place?  I work. I’ve never been fired.

Can you tell when people are lying or telling the truth?  Sometimes.

What would you say your average word per minute time is on the keyboard?  I have no clue. I can type pretty quickly, though. I’ve been using computers for as long as I can remember.

What is your least favorite class in school? Why is this?  I always dreaded math classes because it didn’t come naturally to me like English did.

Do you bite your fingernails or tap them on desks? I tap them.

Have you ever wanted to be in a band? What position exactly?  When I was younger, I wanted to be a singer or a drummer in a band.

Who is your role model or hero in life if you have one?  I don’t know if I really have one.

Do you ever call your cousins just to talk to them randomly?  I don’t think so. I’m not very close with my extended family.

When did you last spend the night at someone’s house?  A few nights ago before I actually moved in.

Do you find any of your friends’ parents creepy or really mean?  No.

Do you ever have to wash your clothes at someone else’s house?  No.

When is the next time you’ll go to the library? Why is this?  I have no idea.

Do you like fiction or non-fiction books more? What’s your favorite?  I tend to prefer non-fiction. The Harry Potter series will always be my favorite.

Do you constantly have to be told to shut up? By who?  No.

Ever have a drug overdose? What did you OD on exactly?  No, but I’ve probably had alcohol poisoning before.

Have you ever wanted to change your skin color because you’re not satisfied?  No.

Do you know how to play pool? Are you any good at it?  Yes. I used to be pretty damn good when I played all the time, but I’m sure I’m rusty now.

Do you treat others as you’d like to be treated? Have you always?  I try to.

Were you a really mean kid or a sweet and quiet kid?  Both at different points of my life.

Have you ever been beaten up by someone before?  No.

Are you someone who likes to get in arguments or fights a lot?  No.

[secretshinigami]

all right, here goes nothing

Author: @hazblogs For: @weneedtotalkaboutdeathnote Pairings/Characters: Mello/Matt, Mello/Near, Mello, Near, Matt, L Rating/Warnings: T, mention of dermatillomania Prompt: An Au where L defeated Kira, grew older, and basically disappeared. Older Mello (mid 20sish, now a detective) follows a lead that takes him to the washed up L. Author’s Notes: nyello !!!!! after all this time i’m very proud to announce that my gift is here !!! i really hope you like it and that everyone else will too. i had lots of fun !!! have a good day everyone

The recorder makes some shitty ass noise before working, but that’s all xe has, so xe makes it work.

All right, here goes nothing.

“I never imagined I would be alive to tell you this. From the most crack ass place of the Earth, nowhere in Argentina, here’s Mello, also known as the second fucking best detective in the world, and I’m here to report on-”

There’s some background bang that makes xem stop. Xe rereads xer intro one last time, waiting for the noise to subside, and then, xe gives up and gets out that crap laptop from xer backpack and starts typing again. The room is dimly lit, and moss grows on the exposed beams, there are probably termites eating at them.

If xe’s right about this, it could be the most important discovery in the detective world since the fall of Kira.

It’s been… twelve years or so. Mello still remembers what xe did when the news broadcast announced that Light Yagami was dead (xe was cat-fighting Matt for a place closer to the TV) and xe remembers the intolerable feeling of dread that seized xem. “That’s it. We’re all useless now,” was what xe thought, and it’s been half disproved by the years, but the feeling lingers.

Something is making noise again, an awful lot of noise, and – fuck, someone is trying to break in again, aren’t they. Mello grabs xer crowbar and directs a lazy but wary gaze towards the door. It finally flings open, and. Oh yeah. It’s Matt.

“Mells, fuck you,” he says without missing a beat, “I’ve been under the rain for like, fifteen minutes, couldn’t you just come and see who was trying to enter ?”

“Easier to let ‘em come and take ‘em out when they’re already in. That way I don’t get wet,” Mello answers, and Matt makes an indignant noise of protest, before giving up entirely and walking away to shower.

The little house they’re renting on the Argentinian coast is big enough to have three rooms, and they’ve been staying there for some days now, thanks to Wammy’s insufferable donations. Not that they couldn’t afford it by xemself but xe’s been… spending xer money, lately. More than usual.

Matt is back half an hour later, naked – because he knows Mello fucking hates it – and he lingers on the back of the couch long enough to peep at what Mello is typing, before getting a new set of clothes. It’s not exactly warm inside, though it’s far from freezing, and xe sits tightly wrapped in a blanket.

“Any new stuff ?” Matt asks.

“Nope,” xe says, and xe sighs. The leads have been cold for a little while now, not long enough for it to despair, but enough to make xem worry xe is losing track of xer most important witnesses. Though, it’s been weeks since xe has been on that case, and it’s been nothing but one cold shoulder after the other.

“Gimme that computer and go get something to eat,” Matt ends up saying around dinner time, and xe knows it’s only to read more of this… second novel, if you can call it that. Xe isn’t a good writer by any means, though xe thinks xe got better over the years, and this is only a shitty first draft, full of plot bunnies and incoherent rambling. Matt should also not be allowed to read anything on xer newest lead, until xe knows for sure it’s not a sham. Last time was enough.

They end up shutting the laptop off, squeezing both their asses on the small couch, and eating microwave chili with a single spoon. Two adult-sized kids, grown up too fast, looking for old gods under the rain.

My first lead was a woman named Naomi Misora. If you’ve read my previous work, you should know about her – she is the one who helped L solve the Los Angeles BB murder case. She died during the Kira case, however her suicide note contained deeply important information revealed that she had try to contact L before she died. What prevented her ? What are the circumstances of her death ? It seems that her husband Raye Penber was one of the FBI agents sent to chase Kira in Japan, and that after his death she simply wouldn’t go on living decided to commit suicide for an unknown reason. This is not consistent with the person L had described to me, which is why I went to such great lengths to get this letter from her living relatives.

I was disappointed not surprised at the contents of the letter. She did not have any information about where L could be, and hadn’t been contacted by him after the BB murder case, even though she had quit the FBI to become a consultant and eventually a stay at home fiancée. She did manage to mention, though, that she met several people, through the course of her career as a consultant, that claimed to have been helped by L.

This is where my investigation begins.

“So you say you have no idea why L helped you ?” Mello asks, slightly bored. And infuriated. And close to getting up and walking away from this shitplace.

The old woman lives in a hole-in-the-wall, next to a supermarket and a church, and probably only leaves her crappy residence to go to both those locations. Her house is however surprisingly decorated with a fully reconstructed human skull.

Mello would like to insist on the “reconstructed” part – it appears to have been smashed in a hundred pieces, and glued back together before being varnished. It has long since turned yellow, and will probably crumble at the lightest touch. Xe won’t try to grab it, though holding a supposedly real human skull has its charm.

“I don’t, young lady,” she answers, and Mello has to stifle a laugh – it’s been a while since people mistook xem for a girl, but xe guesses the long hair is a disguise enough. “I simply know my husband died in his boat and next, I was contacted by this old woman on the phone who said the greatest detective in the world would like to help.”

Her husband was killed by the English military for getting too close to the Falklands with (as they said to her, after L’s investigation) threatening weaponry: a fishing rod, five knives and a standard rifle. She is the last person to have heard from L in an investigation context, and her help is invaluable. Mello can’t help but feel absolutely cheated.

This is what L was doing ? Seven years ago, before his unofficial retiring, helping this old woman solve the death of a husband she was the only one to mourn was probably the last thing on his mind. Why do it then ?

Matt thinks he knows what this is about. He thinks, and Mello is directly quoting him there, “that you’re looking for L because you never solved any-fucking-thing that he couldn’t have solved, and if you manage to outsmart him, then maybe for once you’ll stop being a bitter little bitch”. Touché, xe had thought, but also, fuck you.

An hour later, Mello exits the house with the feeling that xe is a tiny step closer to unravelling the truth. Xe has a clue – an address in southern Italy. It’s no longer useful to stay in Argentina, thankfully, the weird winter was starting to get on xer nerves. Matt will probably be happy he can go back to England now that his tracking devices aren’t needed.

Xe just hopes this isn’t another false hope.

I went to the police department of Los Angeles looking for the archives of the BB murder case. One of the things Beyond Birthday requested during his stay was a speech-to-text device that he could use with his damaged arms, presumably to write his memoirs. What if there were clues as to L’s whereabouts ? Anything about his past that could get me to where he is now ?

A few days in, I realised my mistake. The memoirs were a series of names and numbers, accompanied with notes as to what appeared to be a suspected cause of death. Most of the names at the beginning I did not know, but for some pages there was a list I recognised as the birthnames of Wammy orphans. This deduction I was able to make seeing my name and Matt’s – and one name I guessed was Near’s. L’s real name, is L.

L Lawliet.

This name was supposed to be my biggest lead – even my former place of residence could be tracked down using my birthname, which is the reason why I keep it a secret, and the Kira investigation showed the importance of this secrecy.

There is nothing, not a single clue, tying L back to his name. He has, for all intents and purposes, no existence under the name Lawliet as I have none under mine, we are for all society but black holes with no ID numbers.

At first comforting, the thought came to be troubling. What if we don’t exist.

The town has its charm, xe have to admit. Matera is a small-ish city looking down on a gorgeous landscape, that has nothing to envy to the beauty of Rome and its cathedrals. It feels… so foreign, so fucking weird, to imagine L sitting at the terrace of café eating ice-cream.

He probably isn’t even here. He probably set never foot in this town. Mello is probably knocking on the door of some stranger right now, and the person opening definitely isn’t someone xe has seen before.

“Cosa posso fare per te, signorina?” asks an old lady with an incredible wig and hands that could definitely strangle a chicken. She seems partially deaf from the way she angles her head, so Mello takes on his strongest normal voice to answer, “Un giovane uomo vive qui?”

“Maestro L, qualcuno ti sta chiamando !” she yells back, and xe has to do a double take to make sure xe didn’t mishear.

L.

He’s here.

A man in his thirties, with dark bags under his eyes. Standing hunched, almost like he’s afraid. Biting on his thumb, and looking at xem without any spark in his eyes.

After all this time looking for him, Mello doesn’t know what to say.

“Cosa vuoi, Laetitia,” he asks eventually, eyeing Mello with deep-seated fatigue.

“La signorina qui ti sta chiedendo,” the old woman answers, and she leaves without giving xem another glance.

They spend a minute or so looking at each other, trying to decide who will make the first move. L looks ready to slam the door in xer face, and his eyes are still so fucking empty – it’s almost frightening.

“Wait,” Mello eventually says as L reaches for the doorknob.

“What do you want,” he asks, voice deeper than xe remembers. “I’m not letting any clients in.”

“I’m not a client,” xe says petulantly, forgetting about the world around them. For a moment xe is thirteen again, looking up at L with stars in xer eyes and wondering what they did to deserve meeting him.

“Do I know you ?” L says, almost wondering aloud. “Your face looks familiar.”

This snatches the words out of Mello’s mouth. So… he doesn’t remember xem. Has xe changed that much ? Xe doesn’t think so, and even then, it’s L xe is talking about, he would remember xer face had he seen xem an infant.

What is happening ?

A thousand pleas die on xer tongue.

L sighs, and closes the door.

I don’t even fucking know what to write in here. This is entry 37 of this journal and I have absolutely nothing to write because L has gone insane and isn’t recognising me and he locked the door in my face. I don’t know if I’m furious or scared or just super tired of it all.

It was so useless in the end I can’t even believe I thought it’d be useful.

Mello hates xemself for not thinking about what xe would do in case this failed.

Well. Rather, in case this succeeded. What did xe think would go on ? A familial reunion ? Talk about a cliché. That would never happen, not with L as xe knew him, so… what exactly was xe hoping for ?

When xe is in doubt, xer first reflex is to call Matt. He always knows what to say, but right now, Mello needs something else (xe can hear him, drawling voice and all, “What did you expect, Mells, just give it up”. This is not what xe needs right now).

Xe calls Near.

Xe forgot xe had his number, but xe does, and it rings once before Near answers the call.

“It’s five in the morning, Mello.” ‘What the fuck’ is implied but not said, and xe appreciates the efforts Near makes not to get on xer nerves.

“You’re in Japan, I forgot.” Xe didn’t. “I…”

“You found him. Matt told me.” Near’s voice is small, tired and still somehow bored, but he knows how important this is for xem, so he settles back on whatever chair he was in and probably starts twirling his hair, a habit he never grew out of.

“He’s a complete dumbass,” Mello seethes. Xe can’t help it, it all goes pouring out. “He didn’t recognise me. And before you tell me it’s something he came up with so I’d leave him alone, no, he really didn’t. I could see it. He really fucking didn’t know who I was, Near. He looked at me like he’d never seen me before and he asked if he knew me. I can’t do it, Near, fuck. I don’t know what I wanted out of this but…”

“But that’s not it,” Near quietly adds, “yeah, I understand.” He heaves a sigh, before going on. “I knew he lived there.”

For a split second, Mello’s vision whites out with fury. “What the fuck. I spent weeks on this.”

Near sighs again. “And what for ? You didn’t even get a pat on the back.” Scratching sounds, the ruffling of white pyjamas, a yawn. “Sorry, that was rude,” Near says, not sounding sorry at all. “I know how important this was for you. Maybe you should try to go back, see if now he recognises you. His memory can’t be that bad.”

Mello huffs haughtily, not ready to admit defeat and make the first step. L will reach him if he wants to. Which is fucking never.

Xe doesn’t know if xe is ok with that.

Maybe Near is right.

“Ok, say I contact him. What do I even say,” Mello asks.

“You try and make friends, I thought you were good at it. Say you’re a fan. That’s not too far off the truth.”

Near has to be joking. A fan ? Xe would literally rather die. Once again Mello is submerged by the hopelessness xe felt when Kira died. In truth, xe knew Near would survive this. Near would prevail because he was godless, had no icons, no one to look up to. This battle of giants was not what his life had at stake.

Mello on the other hand, would stay in L’s shadow all xer life. Had, actually. Second rate detective, xe was, if xe was honest with xemself.

Fuck.

“I’ll just.” It’s Mello’s turn to sigh. “I’ll just let you sleep, Near,” xe says. “Thanks for listening to me.” This does not leave a bitter taste on xer tongue at all. “I’ll catch you later so you can tell me about stuff.”

“I didn’t even know you had my number,” he answers, “you’re probably blocking me right after this call.”

“Yeah, right,” Mello says. “Fucking true. Still. Have fun or whatever. You’ll pay me back for not telling me where he lives.”

“I have,” Near cryptically says, and he hangs up.

The doorbell rings.

I have received a package from a friend a business acquaintance, containing pictures and files about what L has done since retiring seven years ago. It is filled with mundane things such as crumpled grocery receipts, pictures of L sleeping in various locations and orders to have a giant washing machine built in his new house. What for I don’t know, since L barely seems to change clothes.

One thing that struck me was the date of Watari’s death. It was eight years ago, and he apparently died in his sleep of natural causes. I wonder how L took it. It must have had an impact on L’s detective abilities, as the Kira case was to my knowledge the only one where he revealed his face to associates during the case instead of speaking through the phone or through Watari. Had he found ways to interact with the world outside of his comfortable little bubble ?

It doesn’t seem like it. Barely a year after Watari’s death, L was ceasing all detective activity on international soil, solving only one minor police squabble in Wales before retiring to this little town in Italy. Did he lose his mind most of his field of action because of Watari’s death ?

I have another theory. L got bored. He stopped his detective work out of sheer fatigue, tired of never facing a foe as formidable as Kira. Tired of the never-ending squabbles for glory humans have, when he tasted the power of a wannabe god. No one will be as interesting to him as Kira and this destroyed him.

I know this because no one will be as interesting to me as L and

Xe stays in Matera for a little while. Not purposefully trying to cross L’s path, but not avoiding him either, rather, staying in this grey (dark) area where xe avidly goes to every place L might have been seen at times of the day he might be there, while telling xemself xe is totally not hoping they’ll meet. They kind of try to cross his path, ok.

Near’s pictures prove to be faithful. L can be seen helping Laetitia, his babysitter (for lack of a better word), do grocery shopping, or perusing market stalls. He can be seen drinking coffee on the little plaza and – this surprises Mello a great deal – going to church. Xe had never pegged L as a religious guy, not in the same sense as xem, but he doesn’t seem to go there out of devotion rather than out of the compulsive need to get out of the house as much as possible.

Near’s pictures also are useful, inasmuch as Mello is not surprised to see L gnawing at his fingers, pulling at his hair, scratching his leg over his jeans until it bleeds. He has dark circles under his eyes, worse than before, and the light in his room almost never goes off. He barely eats anything other than candy, though Mello sees Laetitia coax him into buying a sweet potato, something she does often judging by how easily L cedes to her demands, and… Mello thinks he gets a clearer picture.

Never meet your idols if you’re not ready to see them crumble under your baffled eyes, xe thinks bitterly.

There’s no point in staying in Matera any longer after xe realises this. Xe leaves at dusk, because xe loves a good theatrical exit. The only thing xe is not sure of is where to go. Matt says he’s busy but that his house is open, Near’s number is long gone from xer contact list – not that xe doesn’t know it by heart, but it’s the symbolic gesture that counts.

Xe errs here and there, going back to Wales for a short while before leaving for Sudan. Xe spends weeks there working on unveiling some of the horrors of the civil war, excruciating work that xe is not sure xe will ever do again. Months pass. Summer turns into autumn, and into winter again, like in Argentina.

Xe receives a message.

It’s from Near. He’s asking for advice. Which isn’t strange, he’s done that before, but Mello never answered and just changed xer number, though that never seemed to stop him.

This time, Mello answers.

There’s nothing like losing someone to make sure you’ll remember those who stay.