#plus i can’t sleep next to/near other people because it fucks up my sleep environment

[moonjade]

This might sound odd but does anyone else need to have things go in a certain way before they can do something? I’ll give an example since idk how to word it better. Before I go to sleep at night, I have to watch the same YouTube video at the same time stamps (I start watching in the middle of the video, around the 10:30 timestamp, then from the beginning of the video), then I have to lay on my left side for a few minutes, and then I can finally go to sleep (on my right side). I can’t sleep otherwise. I also have to have a fan going because I can’t sleep without it. But it has to be a certain sound and frequency. Is this normal or 😅

[nevertheless-moving]

My actual point writing this here is that a year into the war when Obi-Wan (36) starts really bonding with Cody (14/28) he feels super weird about it on a bunch of levels because its Cody who’s loyal and hot and smart but does this make Obi-Wan a creep? Or is it more offensive not to sleep with him? (Not to mention it’s easier to think about consent in terms of numbers then the insane command structure and slavery thing because they’ve got a pretty healthy relationship all things considered and he’s already promoting the man as fast as possible anyway but clones have no legal rights) 

Obi-Wan sleeps around with various terrible choices, sexual tension builds. FINALLY after two years of war they get stuck in a cave, naturally huddle for warmth, things escalate positively and Obi-Wan’s like WAIT I CAN’T

There’s some horny exasperation, but they care about each other, and don’t want to sour what they have with regrets. Eventually Cody (15/30 at cave time) and Obi-Wan agree to wait another 3 years so they’ll both be at the legal human age of consent and the age difference will drop to just 4 years. By then the war will be over anyway, right? So the whole jedis-own-the-clones thing that’s really underneath all this will HAVE to be resolved. 

They spend the rest of the night cuddling with uncomfortable boners.

Another year passes. Lots of longing glances, lingering hand touches, tender bandaging of wounds, suggestive lightsaber holds...you know. YOU  K N O W. Plus a little private teasing about the jailbait thing because they’re literally running a war together

Order 66. 

When asked, CC-2224 can’t believe he ever considered himself close to a traitor. He doesn’t think about it the rest of the time. 

Obi-Wan has plenty of regrets. This is probably the easiest one to bear, and the only one that makes him smile to think of.

Things could have been left at that, but once Fulcrum disseminates the knowledge on exactly why the clones turned, a number of early rebellion task-forces dedicate themselves to de-chipping/disabling the chips. Beyond the whole sentient rights thing, its good tactical sense. They’re a well placed MAJOR military asset that could quickly start providing immediate returns if suborned. Worst case you’ve just activated a number of extremely effective suicide bombers

It takes over a year and a lot of good men die, but a desperate rebel cell manages to infiltrate purge trooper barracks. They go undiscovered just long enough to plant a few extremely well-calibrated electrical devices. Bomb sweep fails to register them. The whole terrorist group is wiped out of course, but the EMPs activate overnight as planned. Massive damage to Imperial Military resources and overly hasty brain surgery follows.

Like I said, a lot of good men die. 

But Cody, now that his head is more or less his own, has a little more hope than the average CC (not a lot, but enough to stave off going out in a blaze of glory). General Kenobi’s body was never found after all. He knows- he looked.

He quickly joins up with the Onderran campaign- he can’t go on many imperial raids- he understands that his brothers would rather die than live as they are but that doesn’t mean he can pull the trigger. But black ops? yeah. Rumour is they’ve even got a Jedi on the next mission- he’d be irritated at the bad operational security but that specific rumour passes around so often its essentially useless to spies anyway.

Team members are independently directed to assemble at a safe house, their arrivals deliberately staggered. Cody steals and ditches two different ships, not to mention spends a week in a sewer, before finally arriving. Organa himself had stressed that one of the crew is taking time off of a top-secret long-term protection detail for this and no chances are to be taken with being tracked. 

He arrives late at night, with two days left to spare.

Two unknown near-human fighters (Guerra trained by the looks), a Mon-Calamari smuggler, and a Gand mercenary who he’s fairly confident used to work for the separatists greet him cordially enough at entry; his reputation proceeds him. If anything, the former Marshall Commander of the 7th Sky Corps is overqualified for this sort of mission. He’s vaguely pleased to find another trooper present- a heavily scarred arc commando wearing 187th colors. The commando is actually smiling, seated across from and deep into conversation with a robed figure,

Cody’s heart jumps to his throat. Their conversation halts. Everyone watches. And General Kenobi slowly turns to face him. The air’s too heavy with tension for the others to think about leaving discretely, even if they were willing (the chips are a poorly-understood open secret at this point, and the five bystanders are well trained enough to brace themselves for the worst case reunion).

“Cody,” Obi-Wan says softly. “It’s good to see you.” 

The Jedi looks terrible. In the two and a half years since the end of the war and the start of the empire, the man seems to have aged faster than a botched clone. 

He’s using his stupid earnest voice where he means what he’s saying and its important that Cody know that. Like he’s actually, truly happy to see Cody even after what the clones did to their Jedi. Even after what Cody tried to do to Obi-Wan. Cody’s had plenty of time to think of what he might say if he ever saw the man again, but he hadn’t used it- it was too painful to imagine anything personal anymore. What apology could be enough? What right did he have to express grief in the face of Obi-Wan’s unfathomable loss? To Cody’s absolute horror, what comes out his mouth is

"I’m not jailbait anymore, you know.”

The words hang in the air, and Cody is now ready to die. Maybe if he moves suddenly enough one of their captive audience members will reflexively shoot him. 

Sure, after their long talk in that cave, Cody had spent an unhealthy amount of time daydreaming variations on ‘I’m a real man now we gonna fuck or what’

but that was before he became a kriffing PURGE TROOPER what the actual hells was wrong with his brain 

Obi-Wan...Obi-Wan blinks rapidly. Then grins. It was honest delight mixed with Negotiator smarm crossed with an about-to-get-laid-leer.

Cody’s heart starts back up with a vengeance.

“I’m afraid I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about it,” Obi-Wan drawls. He shifts in his seat, straightening from a weary hunch to lean back cockily, hands behind his head and legs spreading even wider than their customary sprawl. 

“Oh, did I miss your 18th decant day? I’m ever so sorry my dear, I do hope I can make it up to you somehow. Incidentally, have I ever mentioned that contrary to popular opinion, the Jedi Code doesn’t actually require celibacy?”

Cody let out a strangled noise at the pickup line that had, almost impressively, become even less tasteful since the last time he heard it. He must have moved forward somehow, because the next thing he knew the General’s chair was toppling back and his legs were wrapped around the Jedi’s waist and Obi-Wan’s tongue was doing incredible things to the inside of his mouth. There's a sense of hasty movement, the slam of a door, then a bed.

-

The next morning, Cody stares intently at the briefing’s logistical diagrams, carefully avoiding everyone else’s eyes. There was next-to-no-chance that their moaning and thudding had gone unheard. But they were all professionals, not to mention used to people letting off tension in high stress environments.

He does, however, desperately hope that everyone somehow missed the hours of incoherent crying that interrupted and followed otherwise fantastic sex. 

Plans are finalized, weapons are loaded, and comms are distributed. Two more rebels arrive. Pre-mission banter stays fairly tame, even after claiming one of the two bedrooms for themselves for a second and not significantly quieter night.

All things considered, when it comes time to establish operational codes, they don’t really have it in them to put up a fight against their unanimously designated callsigns.

They are a little less gracious on future missions when the code names repeatedly return.

 Nearly two decades later, at the physical ages of 72 and 58 respectively, Cody and Obi-Wan have more or less resigned themselves to being officially introduced as 'jailbait’ and ‘cradlerobber.’ 

[moro-nokimi]

Chapter 6: January 6, 2011

Summary: All hell breaks loose.

AN: HERE WE GO LESBIANS THIS IS THE PENULTIMATE CHAPTER.  Okay, excitement aside, when Light screams and collapses, google search “Light Yagami confession italian” - first result on youtube is the one you want. Would also recommend google searching “Struts somebody new” after the January 22 pagebreak, but it isn’t mandatory. I just like to torture my readers. TWs: death of a loved one, suicide, burning. Ask to tag.

ffn.online

“How’s it going, Gevanni?” Rester asked.

“I haven’t been able to confirm the presence of a Shinigami for the past week. And Mikami’s still on his regular routine.”

“I think it’s safe now,” Near said.

“Huh?”

(Poor guy looked wiped the fuck out, no wonder he was a bit slow in the brain area.)

“I want you to get your hands on the notebook again when you go to the gym tomorrow. And this time, take photographs of all the pages.”

“Photographs?” Rester repeated.

“Yes. I want to see for myself how the names are actually written. Most of Kira’s killings occur after midnight, but I want to find out if that’s because of Mikami’s clockwork life, or if he’s controlling the time of death. And if there are any rules to the way he writes the names down, if he has any habits… What does this notebook look like? Its appearance, front cover, back cover. I want to see all the small details with my own eyes.”

“All right.”

January 7 “So, what do you think, Near?” Rester asked.

“Gevanni has done well.”

“That’s not what I meant!” Rester sounded exasperated, and Naomi couldn’t hold in a snicker.

“Relax, Rester. This will all go more or less smoothly,” Naomi said.

“You sound convinced.”

Because if I die I see Raye again. And if I don’t, I get revenge. Either way, I’ll be at peace and I can move on.

“The handwriting on this matches Mikami’s handwriting on the investigation records he wrote as a prosecutor. This is definitely written by Mikami," Near said.

“Right.”

“Apart from Demegawa and the man on the train, everyone else’s name is written in after midnight. And only their names have been written down. A page per day. He stops killing people when the page is full. Yes, looks like I can put my plan into action.

“Commander Rester, get me Gevanni. … The photographs are very clear. We should be able to do it, then,” Near said.

“Right…?”

“But I was expecting the killer notebook to be much stranger, with some kind of magical power radiating from it. But it really is an ordinary notebook, just like Mello said.”

“Like he’d have a reason to lie when he came to HQ for an exchange?” Naomi pointed out.

“Still, you never know.”

“Either way, it still looks like a regular college notebook.”

“I can see that,” Naomi said.

“Anyways, the important thing is that your name isn’t written down in this, Gevanni,” Near said.

“Uh huh.”

“The notebook at the Japanese task force headquarters is under Mr Aizawa’s surveillance. So long as this notebook isn’t possessed by a Shinigami, I think it’s safe to say that you’re not being controlled by another Kira.”

“I told you that I’m fine. Do I look like I’m being controlled? If I was, I wouldn’t have been able to take those photographs in the first place,” Gevanni replied, distinctly peeved. Ah, I remember the days I’d be annoyed at a superior for supposed micromanagement.

“Just to be safe, please go down to the hospital to receive a complete physical exam to see if you’ve developed any illness.”

“Okay…”

“If you’re still alive 23 days after the first time you touched the notebook—on January 23rd—it means there was no Shinigami possessing the notebook when you touched it, and Mikami doesn’t know about you. And if there is no Shinigami, then there should be no problem with you tailing him, so after January 23rd, at the first possible opportunity, we’re going to settle this fight once and for all.

“Until then, we’ll concentrate on Light Yagami, Kiyomi Takada, and Teru Mikami—as we’ve been doing so far. But there’s one last thing we must do—every one of us, but especially you, Gevanni… I’m going to have to ask you to do something.”

⁂

Naomi exhaled and laid on her back. It was quickly approaching five in the morning, and she hadn’t slept since she woke up at six the previous day. Nausea was starting to set in. Whether it was from the sleep deprivation or the fact that she could only stomach liquid, only time would tell.

She stood and walked to the kitchen for what felt like the fifth time that day. Rester had went to sleep roughly an hour ago, and Gevanni had came in about 45 minutes ago. Stupidly enough, she was thinking about when Lidner would next come in.

Stupid.

Her and Lidner hadn’t seen much of each other since that spat and the fact that Lidner had the luck to come into that bodyguard job, but she managed to luck out—in its loosest form of use—and meet with Lidner.

“Listen, I really do want to say that I’m sorry for… bringing up your fiance like that,” Lidner said, cringing as she paused. “I definitely crossed a line and I’m sorry.”

Part of Naomi had wanted to say that she should fucking well be; there are plenty of things that are off limits and bringing up dead people close to you is one of them. Before she knew it, she was nodding. “I definitely shouldn’t have snapped at you as quickly as I did—even in having my grief prodded at like that.”

Lidner nodded. “It’s all right, I don’t blame you. Truce?”

They shook hands.

She was grateful to not have that to worry about, to say the least. The last thing she needed was to be perpetually kicking herself for spilling her guts to Lidner like that and reacting the way she did.

January 22 “It went well. I did everything you said.”

“Okay.” Vertebrae cracked in Near’s neck as he rotated it to get a closer look at his action figure. “Now, I want you to keep your eyes on Mikami as you’ve been doing, until the 24th. If you don’t notice anything different about Mikami by then, we’ll go head to head against L right away.”

Lidner walked in at midnight.

“Oh. You’re still here,” she said.

Naomi nodded. “Fortunately or not. I can’t sleep for the life of me.”

“Yeah, I feel you. Gevanni’s whiny ass is constantly talking about how screwed up his sleep schedule is, but I can’t say as I blame the man. Near gave me the rundown as to what was going on. Sounds exciting.” Lidner wiggled her toes as she stepped out of her heels. Naomi didn’t envy her.

“Agreed.” And here was the part that stuck in Naomi’s throat even as she rehearsed what she’d say. “Um, listen… if all doesn’t go well when we meet with L, I do want to say that I—”

Emotionally, it felt like Naomi had been hit in the chest with a sack of bricks. She didn’t feel it physically, thankfully, because that was always a sign that a panic attack was coming—and no one wanted to have a panic attack in front of a woman they were even remotely into.

She exhaled. “I’m going about this badly. I’m sorry if I’m wasting your time.”

“It’s all right. I think I’m overdue for having my time wasted by someone that’s not Kiyomi Takada.”

Naomi nodded, too wired to laugh however briefly. “I’m trying to say that I have f—” She winced. “I have fff—I like you a lot. A lot, a lot.”

“I would hope so. Having two coworkers at each others throats isn’t conducive to an environment like this one.” Lidner cleared her throat. “Lampshading aside, I…”

“I mean it’s fine if you don’t reciprocate I was just—” Naomi really regretted this now. Regret plus feeling like you’re replacing your dead fiance isn’t exactly conducive to coherency of a confession of romantic feelings of your coworker to said coworker.

“Hey! It’s all good. Truth be told, I like you that much too.”

Naomi exhaled. One thing out of her way. “But the thing is… I mean, I don’t want to presume or anything—”

���I don’t think you’d be presuming anything.” Lidner ran her tongue along her lower teeth. “If you’re talking about getting into a romantic relationship, I can say as I’m not ready for it.”

“Oh—Jesus, that’s a relief—I mean, I’m not either.” Naomi hit herself upside the head. “This is coming out badly.”

“It’s all good, I get what you’re trying to say. In the future, perhaps, but…”

She nodded. “Yeah, it’s not a good idea. And working for Near in the middle of the most controversial case in the world is a full time job.”

“Agreed.”

In an unexpected reaction, Lidner leaned forward and pressed a quick kiss to Naomi’s cheek. She retreated down the hall. Naomi didn’t realize she was repressing tears until her entire head and neck began to ache.

January 25 “I think this plan’s going to work,” Rester said.

“Gevanni here.” He cleared his throat. “I’ve checked the notebook. It’s been one page per day, as always, for the past three days. Those who’ve been killed match with the names in the notebook as well. And there’s nothing different about Mikami.”

“I see…”

“Everything’s set,” Rester said.

“Yes.”

Near called L two and some change hours later. “L.”

“What is it, Near?” L asked.

“I want to meet you.”

“Uh huh…”

“There’s something I must show you that pertains to the Kira case.”

So is that how he’s phrasing things? But I suppose that’s better sounding than “I’m about to show your entire team who you are and completely destroy you and your reputation with them.”

“But if you think I’m Kira, right? Then you shouldn’t want to show your face to me.”

“Well, I can’t really show you anything unless I show my face. Showing my face will reveal something, of course, and then will bring the case to a close.”

“Very well. I want you to realize that you’re wrong.”

You have a lot of nerve to say that, don’t you? You know, that arrogance will be what brings you down.

And I can’t wait to watch it happen.

“There are several rules I must ask you to follow in order for us to meet.”

“Go ahead. You’re the one who suspects me of being Kira, so I’m sure you want to state which conditions we meet under. We don’t have any.”

“First of all, investigators from both sides are to be there. In other words, everyone who is looking for Kira will be there when we meet each other.”

“Why all of our investigators?”

“If you and I are to meet face to face, there ought to be witnesses. And even if I succeed in proving that you’re Kira, you could always take the extreme of strangling me.” Near’s brow furrowed as he added, “We’ve all been risking our lives to find Kira. if I prove Kira’s identity there, then everyone has the right—no, the responsibility—to attend. And by having everyone there, I want to make sure that any information about this meeting or my face doesn’t go public.” Near took a breath. “Everyone on this case will see what happens at this meeting—and after they see the outcome and the reality of the whole story, we’ll cooperate and decide what to do next.”

“Okay, I’m fine with that.”

Near moved his hand closer to the Misa figurine he made, hands splayed almost like an OK sign. “As I said before, there are five of us, including me. That’s everyone in the SPK. I’ll have Mr Mogi, who I’m keeping in my custody, accompany me there. I’ll release Amane before that—” and to demonstrate, he flicked the figurine, “and be sure not to tell her where we’ll be meeting.” The figurine rolled. “You can meet me after you make sure she’s actually been released. How does that sound?”

“Very well.”

Near began to stand. “Mr Aizawa will be able to tell you if the five people you see, plus Mr Mogi, are the real members of the SPK.”

“To me, it doesn’t really matter if the person who appears there is Near or not. You’ve just been stressing that point because you believe that I’m Kira, and that I won’t appear unless I know that you’re really going to come—right?”

Near paused, considering his actions.

What sort of attempted checkmate is this? You know this, the task force knows this, the rest of us know this. And the task force is—I assume—not largely full of idiots. And I’d think you’d have learned your lesson after the whole Lind L Tailor incident almost a decade ago.

“We’ve had many conversations like this in the past. Even if I don’t know your face, I’m sure I can figure out if it’s the real you once I talk to you in person. But I’ll make sure to have Aizawa tell me to double check.”

“I agree with that…”

I think, if I took a scalpel and some other tools to his skull, I’d find the gears turning in his head, Naomi thought.

“We have five investigators including me and Mogi. You’ll have to trust me on that. We’re a small group of people chasing Kira in a world like this, so I’d like to quickly settle this problem and cooperate with you and your team.”

“Very well…” Near settled into a position almost similar to her unprivate detective acquaintance in LA. “As for the place we’re going to meet, I’m thinking of one where the people inside can’t be seen from the outside.”

“You suspect me of being Kira, so it’s the natural thing to do.”

“I want it to be a place that can’t be seen even with telescopic lenses and whatnot, so I’d rather it had four walls and a roof.”

“Do you have some place in mind?"

“Daikoku Wharf. There’s an abandoned warehouse on the southeast side, called the yellow box. If that’s fine with you, I’ve taken the liberty of buying it. There’s nothing around it, and the place is empty as well. I’m sending you an image.”

Near smirked. “It’s not locked, so you can go and see it for yourself whenever you want to. And if you don’t like it, I can look for another place.” He smiled toothily. “And each of us can check for hidden cameras when we enter the building.”

“Do you have any other requirements to make sure that your face isn’t known to anyone outside of that warehouse?"

“Yes. I’d like to prohibit any communication equipment when you enter. That’s to ensure that nothing that goes on on the inside gets leaked. And to be sure that no one takes a photograph of me on their phone.”

Naomi held in laughter. What a nice callback to the incident with the girl on the train.

“No communication equipment. Okay.”

“I’d also like someone apart from L to bring the notebook from your headquarters.”

“Why do you need it?"

Near reached for a clay replica of the notebook. “Simple. If every one of you leaves the headquarters, no one will be left to guard the notebook. I promise you that I won’t try to take it from you. And I’ll refrain from touching it. If Mr Aizawa claims that the notebook you brought is the one from headquarters, I’ll believe it. But, again, please make sure that someone other than L is carrying it. Understood?”

“Very well, Near. But I can’t overlook the chances of you conspiring with someone on my side to steal the notebook. I won’t carry the notebook, but I’ll choose who carries it. Is that okay?”

“Yes. The only thing that’s left to settle is the date and time of our meeting.” Near got onto all fours.

“Of course…”

“How about three days from now, on the 28th at one PM?”

“Any time’s fine with us.”

“Remember, three days from now at three o’clock.”

“Yes.”

January 26 “Near, Mello kidnapped Takada,” Lidner relayed.

Near paused. “Lidner, have you been leaking information about our investigation to Mello?”

Lidner paused. “Yes… But I haven’t told him about Mikami.”

“If that’s the case, we should still be okay. But if Mello finds out about Mikami from Takada and seeks him out, this will all be a waste. I want you to find Takada—no. I want you to stop Mello at all costs.”

“But—”

Near’s tone brokered no argument: “Do it.”

“All right.”

Near called L.

A task force member said, “It’s Near. Maybe it’s his usual ‘I took the liberty of confining her’ routine.”

“L, I’m not the one who kidnapped Takada.”

“I see. Then that means… Mello.”

“Yes. I’ll be honest with you. The individual I have guarding Takada has told me so.”

“Near, don’t you have means of contacting him?”

“It’s no use. I can try to contact Mello, but he’ll never respond to me. He must plan on capturing Kira himself, using Takada as bait.” Near pouted and twirled around the microphone. “I didn’t want him interfering for the next three days, and I really do mean that.”

“Very well. I trust your words and I believe that you’re not collaborating with Mello.”

“I’m going to track them down with everything I’ve got.”

“I’ll do the same.”

⁂

“So, please keep your eyes on Mikami as long as possible, making sure to arrive at Daikoku Wharf by one PM on the 28th.” Everyone in the room minus Lidner gave acknowledgement.

The screen beeped. “It’s Lidner,” Rester said.

“Get her on the screen please.”

“Near.”

“Yes?”

“I’m sorry. I never thought that Mello would…”

“It’s okay.” Near moved down to eye level with his figurines. “Everything will be fine so long as Light Yagami goes through with our meeting as planned.”

He called L.

“L.”

“Yes?”

“Granted, we’ve had some distractions. But I want to confirm our meeting is staying where it was.”

“Of course.”

“As for our conditions—they’ll remain in place. Right?”

You’re practically daring him to say no, aren’t you, Naomi thought.

“Yes. I didn’t set any of the conditions anyways.”

“Then I’ll see you on the 28th.”

He hung up.

“Gevanni?”

“Yes?”

Near wiggled his L figurine on his finger. Naomi wanted to crawl out of her skin. “Will you make it?”

“Yeah, no problem.”

“Commander Rester, Lidner, Gevanni, Maki… Let’s put our best into this.”

Naomi nodded.

Relief and anxiety curled up in her chest and made their homes.

January 28 “I’m heading down with Mr Mogi and Amane in my car,” Lidner reported.

“Mikami went to work at the usual time. Nothing out of the ordinary," Gevanni reported.

“Start heading over there,” Near instructed.

“Will do.”

Near called the task force.

“Good morning, everyone.” He brought a knee up to his chest and rested his temple on it. “For starters, I’ve released Amane. You can call her if you’d like to check for yourself.”

“Near, please get Mogi on the line for me. In order for us to bring the notebook, we need a PIN number that only Mogi knows.”

“I’ll get him right away.” Near patched Mogi through to the rest of the task force.

"Near, I have the notebook right here. I’ll take it along with me,” Aizawa says.

“Are you sure about Mr Aizawa handing the notebook?” Near asked.

“I’ve decided that Aizawa would be the best choice.”

If Naomi could’ve, she would’ve glared at L. This was just plain irritating. The second his face got rubbed in the fact that the SPK was right all along, she could die happy.

“Thank you. See you at the warehouse, then.”

Naomi threw up a wave as Aizawa entered the warehouse. The plastic L mask still made her skin crawl.

And then the task force entered.

She could’ve sworn that she saw just a hint of recognition on Light Yagami’s face.

Hm.

“Those are definitely the SPK. Near’s the one with the mask.”

“Yes,” Mogi said. “I was with Near even before he put the mask on. It sure is him.”

“Whether the real Near is here or not is of no interest to me,” Yagami said.

Naomi clenched her jaw, biting back a retort of something like “you clearly haven’t learned your lesson from the Lind L Tailor incident.”

“Wait a minute,” a task force member said, “I don’t care who he accuses of being Kira. But that mask proves he’s only trying to protect only himself.”

“It would be kind of redundant to hide our faces, seeing as how all but one of us have been sighted by Takada before,” Naomi muttered.

“Matsuda, Near thinks I’m Kira. It can’t be helped,” Yagami said.

“He was talking so much about seeing you face to face. It’s not fair!”

Naomi was beginning to get a headache.

It was about to get worse.

“I’m telling you,” Yagami said, and that alone made Naomi want to claw at him and beat him to a pulp, “Near has his own ideas about what’s going on here, so it’s not going to help if we complain about it. Let’s get on with this.”

Near smirked thinly and touched the mask. “This mask is just insurance.”

He was in for it, no matter if he was taken into their custody.

“Insurance?” Matsuda repeated.

“I’m confident that both Kira and the person being ordered to do the killings—X Kira—don’t know my face. But there’s a possibility that everyone else’s face is known to these individuals in question.” He knocked down the figurines of the SPK. “Of course, this is all assuming that L is Kira. So, since the time and place for our meeting was decided upon three days ago, there’s a chance that everyone else’s name, excluding mine, may already be written down in the notebook to be killed.

“If that were to happen, only Kira and I would be left, and all Kira would have to do is write my name in the notebook that Mr Aizawa has with him right now. Though it’s my hypothesis that the Kira here doesn’t have the ability to kill just from looking at our faces.

“So, please give me an hour—no, 30 minutes—to be sure that no one else here is already marked to die by the notebook.”

“You’re waiting to see if we die?” Matsuda asked.

“That’s okay,” Yagami said. “We’ll let Near do as he likes. If not, we won’t be able to clear things up.” He turned to Near. “I believe that you’re the actual Near, and I care little about the face behind the mask. What I’d like to see is what you were going to show me pertaining to the Kira case.”

Near twirled a strand of hair. “That can only be revealed to you after I take my mask off.”

“You can’t show the evidence to us unless you take the mask off, but you’re not going to take it off? Aren’t you contradicting yourself?” Matsuda demanded.

“He means he’s going to take it off once he makes sure that everyone else remains alive,” Yagami clarified. Near confirmed as much.

You sure seem agitated, seeing as how you can’t keep Near’s stipulations straight, Naomi thought.

“It’s been more than 30 minutes—and nothing’s happened.”

“Of course,” Yagami said. “That’s because Kira isn’t here.”

Near took off the rubber band. “Very well. It seems you’re all safe. I’ll go ahead and take off the mask.”

He smirked immediately.

“Okay, so now that you’ve taken the mask off, what are you going to show us?”

“Don’t rush him,” a task force member chided.

“I’m sorry,” Near said, “but you’re going to have to wait again.”

“Again?! What are we waiting for?”

“Excuse me, do you think this is a massive waste of time or something?” Naomi asked. “If you want to prove that your leader isn’t Kira so badly, shut up and wait.”

She didn’t typically have such a short fuse or snap at people so easily. But she was face to face with the one who killed her fiance; and as much as she’d like to get this out of the way and take him into custody already, the fact that he’d have his face rubbed in the SPK’s being right would feel a little bit better than if they took him into custody without much of an explanation. And it’d help out if they could make the task force see reason.

“Oh, I’m sorry—”

Key word being if.

“Enough,” Yagami said.

“We’re waiting for the one who’ll solve everything to arrive,” Near said. He exhaled. “I assure you that this person will come. So we must wait. This building is completely sealed. The only way to look inside is to open that door right there. Therefore, this person will come through that door, or try to peek through it.”

“Who’s going to come…? This meeting was kept a secret from everyone except those who are here right now.”

“That’s right. So the person coming is X-Kira, Kira’s most loyal follower, who learned about our location from none other than Kira himself.” He paused. “Mr Aizawa. You kept an eye on L even after Takada died, right?”

“Yes.”

“Then X-Kira will come. Kira used Takada to contact X-Kira.

“The night we decided when and where to meet, L met Takada, and Takada relayed the information to X-Kira. I am completely sure of this. But Mello’s kidnapping of Takada was a surprise to L and I. With Takada dead, L could no longer contact X-Kira and was unable to call his plan off.” He knocked down the Takada figurine. Near tilted his head. “Actually, it would’ve been meaningless for him to call everything off. The thought wouldn’t have crossed his mind because he didn’t want to interfere with his plan or mind.”

And Matsuda and his co-worker immediately launched into contrarianism:

“Why do you assume L is Kira?”

“Yeah, if a third party is really going to show up here, isn’t it more likely that you’re the one behind it all?”

Ah, this is familiar. I almost feel like I’m 27 again and watching the NPA and L squabble. Maybe without all the signs of aging. Thank God for retinol and sunscreen.

“No, because the person we’re waiting for is the person currently in charge of carrying out Kira’s judgements. So, obviously, this person is coming under Kira’s orders.”

“Hey, wait a minute. If this person is the one doing the killings, you also mean they’re bringing the notebook too?”

“Yes, this person will bring the notebook for sure. And then, after looking at my face, will write down my name.” Near mimed this scenario with the figurines of X-Kira/Mikami and himself.

“So you’re going to prove that this person is Kira’s henchman by being killed?!”

“No, rather by having him try to kill me. There was a similar stunt that was pulled when L was investigating the Yotsuba Group.”

“Wait a minute,” Aizawa said.

“Yes?”

“If X-Kira is going to kill you, then they’d need to kill everyone here, since we all know about the notebook.”

“That’s right. It would be the perfect victory for Kira, not to mention the sole reason Kira agreed to this meeting in the first place.”

“I… I don’t get it,” Matsuda said. “What are you meaning? The third party is going to bring the notebook here to kill us?”

“And you’re asking us to stand here and watch?” Ide asked.

“That’s right,” Near said calmly.

“That’s ridiculous! Then you’ll be playing into Kira’s hands. We’re going to lose no matter what we do.”

“No. We’ll win. If you all do as I say, we’ll win without a doubt. So, if X-Kira enters through that door, I want you all to let him in. And if that door opens, however slightly, I want you all to pretend not to notice.”

Aizawa wrestled with himself. “You’re making it sound like you’re Kira. You’re the one who proposed the idea that we meet here, and now you’re asking for us to let our names be written down in the notebook. It’s only natural for us to think that. But… I’ll do as you say.”

“I’m with Aizawa,” Mogi said. Matsuda muttered dissent.

“He’s already here,” Near said. Naomi's headache was getting considerably worse.

Yeah, that’s one way to make them listen, she thought.

They stood in silence for roughly a half minute.

“I can’t just watch!” Matsuda snapped, bringing a revolver out of his jacket’s inner pocket.

“Don’t move!” Rester snapped, lining Matsuda up with his sights. Gevanni followed suit.

“Are you kidding me?” Matsuda exclaimed.

Naomi whistled. “Sorry, Near. First of all, don’t point your guns unless you intend to fire, Rester and Gevanni." (To this, Gevanni glowered and lowered his after Rester did.) "Second of all, what did Near say? Pretend that nothing is happening.”

“You expect me just to sit there while our names are being written?”

“I’m sorry, I thought I said ‘pretend nothing is happening’!” She put her hands on her hips and glared.

“Enough!” Near said. “I said that you won’t die. Please be still. Everyone relax, please.” He took a breath. “Even if our names are being written down, we won’t die. Kira’s identity will finally be revealed.”

“How can you be so sure?” Aizawa asked.

Near held up the miniature notebook he made. “I’ve tampered with the notebook. We managed to get it into our possession and replaced the pages. The person behind the door—the one in charge of the actual killing—has been filling up one page every day, so I just calculated which page would correspond with today’s date, and replaced all the subsequent pages.”

“Replaced?”

“You actually got a hold of it?”

“The person writing the names down outside will eventually look inside to see if we’ve all died. At which point we’ll seize him, and the individual whose name isn’t written down in the notebook will inevitably be Kira.”

Aizawa agreed, while his coworker was borderline speechless.

“To the one outside,” Yagami said, “did you write the names down in the notebook?”

“I did,” X-Kira answered, almost reverent.

“That’s strange,” Near said, half to his thighs. “Why would he reply in earnest, yes I did when you asked him if he wrote the names down?”

“Who knows?” Yagami replied. “Maybe he’s honest, or is confident for some reason. It may be that he knows your plan.”

Naomi barely resisted rolling her eyes.

“Teru Mikami, why don’t you come in here?” Near ventured.

There was a pause.

“Teru Mikami, right?” Yagami said, looking smugger by the second. “Stop hiding and come inside.”

Still no Mikami.

“Teru Mikami, I know that you’re in charge of carrying out Kira’s killings right now. You’ve already written the names down, so there’s nothing to be afraid of. Please come in. Or did Kira order you not to?”

“Your wish is my command, God,” Mikami said, his expression almost malicious in his devotion.

Naomi almost recoiled in horror.

“How many seconds has it been since you wrote the first name down?” Yagami asked.

“35… 36… 37… 38… 39…”

“I win, Near,” Yagami said.

That sure is one way to dig your own grave, Naomi thought.

“40!”

Still, Naomi clenched her fists and waited for the pain Raye must’ve felt in his chest.

“We… We’re not dead! It’s been a minute and we’re not dead!”

“I’ve been telling you that no one would die,” Near said.

Naomi traded a glance with Lidner. Even the SPK didn’t have a hundred percent faith in this plan.

“Why? Why won’t they die?!” Mikami said. “G-God—I did everything you told me!”

Near signalled Rester and Gevanni to take Mikami into custody.

“The notebook, Gevanni,” Near said. He held up the notebook once Gevanni brought it over. “See for yourselves.”

The task force took in every word.

“The first five names are unmistakably the real names of the SPK members. And the only one missing from this list is Light Yagami. The first nail in the casket was Mikami calling you God, and the other was that he said he did as you told him to.” He brought the notebook down. “This proves it.”

“This is a trap! Near set this whole thing up to frame me! It’s impossible that no one’s dead after their names have been written in the notebook!” Yagami screamed.

Near tilted his head to the side. “But I told you no one would die because I replaced the pages.”

“That’s—this is a setup. I don’t know this guy!”

Mikami wailed and sagged.

Aizawa approached Yagami and put a hand on his shoulder. “Light, it’s too late. Near wins. Just a second ago, you declared that you won. That’s as good a confession as any.”

Matsuda repeated Yagami’s given name and sank to his knees. “Why…?”

Mogi broke ranks and brought out his handcuffs. Yagami ran, slipping and faceplanting, then leaned against the warehouse wall.

“This is it,” Near said. “You lose. You claimed your victory a second ago. And to tell you the truth, you might have won and I’d have lost if it weren’t for one thing. You had Mikami use the fake notebook and had him carry it around in front of us so we’d believe it was the real thing. You even went so far as to suspect that I would replace the pages of the fake notebook, so that I wouldn’t die even if my name was written in it. Things turned out exactly as you expected, and we replaced the pages in the fake notebook.

“That was the plan I had in mind as well. I replaced the pages of the notebook that happened to be a fake, and you had Mikami bring the real notebook out for the first time to kill all of us. And that was your plan. But when I said that I replaced the pages in the notebook, I meant the real one as well. Meaning that I tampered with both the fake and real notebooks. I replaced only a part of the fake notebook, and I replaced the pages of the real notebook completely.” To demonstrate, he pulled the replica notebook from the Mikami figurine, revealing a FAKE label across the back.

Near brought out the real notebook from under his shirt. “This is the real notebook. Gevanni did it overnight. Whether he was able to replace all of it or not was the key to this plan. He did replace a part of the fake notebook with ease, but it was quite difficult to make a forged copy of the real one. Gevanni promised me, however, that it could be done.

“He used the same pen Mikami used, copied Mikami’s handwriting to perfection, and even made a perfect copy of the cover in addition to the interior pages. And since I’d touched the notebook beforehand, I could see the Shinigami from the moment you entered this warehouse. Nice to meet you, Mr Shinigami. I’m Near.”

Hair stood up on the back of Naomi’s neck.

“Ryuk… until today, I always believed that Shinigami had skulls for faces and carried sickles. … I looked through this notebook and found some pages that were clipped out. Can it be that people die even if you write names on pages that have been cut out? … Even pieces are effective… I’m sure there must have been many uses for that. I can’t even begin to think of how many people were killed and deceived because of that.”

“I almost died with that method. My fiance, the busjacker,” Naomi said. “Others, I assume.”

Yagami’s face lit with recognition.

“Raye Penber…”

She nodded, throwing a thin and outright malicious smile to him. “The one and only.”

“That’s one hell of an indictment,” Rester said. (He wasn’t the only one surprised; Gevanni was gaping and Lidner’s eyes were wide.)

“That anecdote just proves something that the previous L knew. Light Yagami, you are Kira.”

Yagami stood in silence, calculating.

“You’re wrong,” Near said, holding his Mello figurine. “I owe this to Mello. I’m sure you understand what I mean by that.” He flipped the notebook’s pages. “Look at the page I just turned to. This is the fake notebook we created, but it’s exactly the same as the real one. The first line of the page on the left…”

Kiyomi Takada. Suicide; burns to death by setting fire to everything around her, including what she wrote. January 26th, 2:33 PM.

Yagami and Mikami stared at each other. “If Takada was in a situation like that, then it’s my job to…,” Mikami said.

“That’s right. When Mello kidnapped Takada, Mikami took out the real notebook—the one he had hidden in a safe deposit box at the bank… and wrote Takada’s name down.”

“After Takada’s kidnapping was announced on the news, Mikami broke from his schedule. October 25th was a Sunday, so he went on the 26th. But all other previous months he’d went to the bank on the 25th. Mikami rarely breaks from his habits, so it immediately stood out to me. I entered the bank and saw Mikami go into the safe deposit room. This was the first time I’d seen him concerned if someone was following him,” Gevanni explained.

“Mikami lives a completely fixed life, but suddenly broke from his routine as Takada was kidnapped. I wonder how much can be explained away, if at all. Going to the bank for two days in a row… I’ll be honest, I only thought about the possibility of the notebook being a fake after Gevanni told me of this. Though, come to think of it, we should’ve suspected that when he took a picture of a man harassing a woman on a train before supposedly writing his name down, and when he talked to himself about the Shinigami not appearing to him. The fact that we found out so quickly about Mikami actually worked against us.

“But until then, we were completely tricked by you, Takada, and Mikami, and had replaced the pages in the fake book. So we’d have lost if I hadn’t found out. When Mello kidnapped Takada, you were no longer able to get into contact with Mikami. But Mikami still made his move for you, to perfection in his role as Kira’s stand-in. His overt adoration, sense of responsibility and attention to detail, and his intelligence worked against him at this time.

“It wasn’t difficult for us to sneak into the safe deposit room to crack it. It was an old fashioned safe at a local bank. And since you allowed us to look through Mikami’s bag when he was at the gym, we already had made copies of all his keys and cards.”

“It was easy. Once I got inside, there was a notebook with Takada’s name written in it,” Gevanni added.

“And an idiot would figure out everything from there.” Near added, “This is very interesting. In the fake notebook, the one we replaced the pages of first, one page was filled in with names every day, but the real one jumps from November 25th to January 26th, when Takada’s name was written down. So that means you, Light Yagami, had Mikami walk around with a fake notebook starting two months in advance to trick us.

“Before January 26th, the time of death wasn’t specified, same as in the fake notebook. But after Takada’s name was written in it, all the judgements for January 26th were set to the early hours of the 27th, and the judgements for the 27th were set for the early hours of the 28th.

“In the fake notebook that Mikami made, Takada’s name is probably written down exactly like this, but the rest of the page is only names and no written down conditions for their death. So that means that when Mikami wrote Takada’s name in the real notebook on the 26th, he also wrote the names of those people who were to be ‘brought to justice’ on the 26th and 27th.

“Mikami could’ve killed the people using the scraps from the notebook, but if he wrote on them in his house, assuming we’d have installed a camera, we might have found out about the fake notebook and the fact that you can kill people with just a scrap of it.

“In order to make Mikami’s notebook look real, you probably cut the pages out and handed them to Takada and had her actually do all the killings. All Mikami had to do was send a list of people to be killed via cell phone or computer and delete the data.

“For the deaths on the 26th and 27th, you might have had him send a list of people to Takada after she was kidnapped, but just in case, Mikami wrote those names down too when he wrote Takada’s name. As for the 28th, today’s killings would be at your leisure, since it would’ve been after you killed us.

“So, though it’s nothing I would’ve taken notice of under normal circumstances, if you look closely, there aren’t any killings of new criminals on the 26th or 27th. And that’s because Mikami wasn’t allowed to take out the notebook until today. And according to your plan, that shouldn’t have happened no matter what.

“And thought I don’t know who was first, this means that you killed Takada too. Since the scraps of the notebook can be used to kill people, it’s hard to believe you wouldn’t have had one on you. Because you killed her too, the announcement of Takada’s death was reported on the news quickly, and since Mikami also knew of her death, you wouldn’t have assumed that Mikami made a move on his own.” Near dropped the notebook. “Too bad. When Mello kidnapped Takada, Mikami wrote her name down in the real notebook too.”

Mikami and Yagami stared at each other again.

“For both you and me…,” Near began, “having Mikami write down our names on the page on the right was the plan. We had to do that. If not, we wouldn’t have been able to capture Mikami, get the notebook from him, or take a look at the notebook. Whether the page on the left was filled with names or not, it had to be the page on the right. And you tried to kill us by having us replace the pages of a fake notebook and having Mikami bring the real one here, but we went a step beyond you by having Mikami bring a fake version of the notebook. It’s a lot harder to find out that the notebook has been switched if you replace the whole notebook rather than just a part of it.

“Of course, this is in large part due to Rester and Gevanni’s efforts in duplicating the notebook in a day. But the biggest thanks goes to the one who created this situation. Mello.”

Lidner suddenly looked very sad. She looked askance. “Mello may have known about it. I told Mello that Near was talking about bringing an end to this case with his own hands. But now that I think of it, he…” She stopped, frowning. “After a long silence, he just said then I guess I’m going to have to do it, and hung up.”

She sighed. “At first, I thought he only meant that he was going to bring an end to the case before Near. But if Mello hadn’t made his move, then we would’ve…”

You’re telling me I owe my life to a corpse? Naomi thought.

“The fact that we replaced the pages in the notebook, and that notebook happened to be a face, I find it hard to believe that Mello thought that far ahead. But, I’m sure that he was always trying to get ahead of me. And that’s not all—even if he didn’t surpass me…” Near wet his lip. “Even if he didn’t…”

Rester traded looks with Gevanni, who traded looks with Naomi, who traded looks with Lidner, who traded looks with Rester.

“Mello always said that he was going to be number one, and that he was going to be better than me and L. But I always knew I would never be able to surpass L. It could be that I lack attention span and he lacked impulse control. And even thought we couldn’t surpass the one we admired on our own—together, we can stand with L. Together we can surpass L. And now, we’re facing Kira, whom L could find no proof against, the very Kira who L was defeated by, and facing him with solid evidence before his own eyes.”

Near let that sink in.

He kept the puppets up.

“Let’s try to see you talk your way out of this one.”

Yagami screamed, high pitched. All the klaxons in Naomi’s brain fired, telling her to get the hell out of there, because something was deeply wrong.

Yagami began to shake.

And he began to laugh.

Against all her primal instincts, Naomi stayed.

He cackled for a good half minute.

Every muscle in Naomi’s body tensed. Every hair stood on end.

“That’s right,” he said, staggering to stand, “I am Kira.”

[painandpleasure86]

Burned all my energy (BreakyWeek2k19)

Author’s note: Hi ppl! This was for Day 4, but this last Thursday and Friday were so frenetic... I couldn’t post this before! Probably I’ll post for the last day... Thank u @runningfortocome​ for hosting this special week for this underrated ship and for supported me last Tues for the hateful anons.

Prompt for Day 4 that I choosed: “Back Chat/arguments in the studio”

Warnings: Angst and fluff.

Word count: +2.0k

Tag list: @warriorteam1924  @runningfortocome​

They love to each other. So much. But also argue a lot. Both have a big pride about their own opinion and that didn't helped at all. Not only in the studio, but also in the intimacy. At least in the last one scenario was always a lot easier to fix the things. Nothing like a special meal or something sexual couldn’t fix.

Record an album always was a challenge for the group. The four of them have different points of view about what to do. But the two of them were usually the worst. Fred always mediating, Roger always mocking to the couple. 

Around 1979, John showed to the group Another one bites the dust. He recorded bass, guitar, synths and claps as a demo. Meanwhile the group was listening it in the studio, Bri and Roger started to feel in disconform, mainly Roger. 

In a whisper, Roger told to Brian “please, if you want to say your disagree, be careful... despite that it’s so funny mocking him, i’m quite tired of both of you arguing”. Brian nodded.

Once the demo ended, Bri said to John with a kind smile "Nice song really, but..."

The youngest one started to feel the anger. Still in his chair, turned to them and he watched right to the hazel eyes of his man. Said sighing “ah shit here we go again ... always but. Nothing that I make likes you!”

Fred, half turned to Brian and John. Trying to calming the atmosphere, said with a cheeky face “You mean musically darling no?”, while winked and made some sexual gestures with his hands.

Brian watched at him pretty disgusting.

"That stuff it's irrelevant here" he said.

"It is Bri. Thanks to the gods that you're happy at bed, hehe." His blonde friend winked an eye. "If not, more hysteria. And the three of you are drama queens. Despite that's quite funny, sometimes it's tiring to see the three of you always discussing" throw Roger.

Bri, pretty done, almost screamed "oh okay, look at you, calling to us drama queens when you made a number for your song of the car some years ago!”

Roger started to be really irritated.

"That's your only argument! Change your cassette Bri!" yelled the blondie.

Fred stand up of his chair and puts between Bri and Rog, separating them with his hands. John just was covering his face trying to not say nothing. "That childish fight again…" he thought.

"Guys, quiet." said so calm.

They still watched to the another pretty upset.

"Relax, guys." continued the singer.

Looking at Roger, he said "the four we're hysterical queens in a some way… But just a real one, ha!" Roger smiled. 

Fred turned his face now to Bri.

"Now you can continue with your opinion about John's song."

Bri started to talk, but Fred interrupted him.

"First, something more Bri". His hands leaved the chest of his friends and walked near John to grab his shoulders, which was on one side watching all the scene. He ducked his head in direction of the face of the bassist.

"And you, darling… don't interrupt to Brian and start to argue again. Let the man speak".

Deaks looked at his friend and sighed deeply.

"Okay, Fred."

Looking at his lover "I'll not yell this time, love." He stand up of his chair. Fred was behind John now. The bassist walked to his man and hugged him with his left arm. Watching to that hazel eyes and caressing the cheeks of the guitarist, continued speaking. "Go ahead." And he kissed him in the cheek. 

Brian watched at the bassist and smiled, slightly blushed.

The environment it's relaxed again.

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A couple of months later, The Game album was released. Another One Bites the Dust it's the most selled single. Bri and Roger should to recognize the ability of John there. And that was right  heeding to Michael Jackson that suggested to release that song as a single.

That album gave them tours for common lands to them like Japan, and visit for the very first time places like South America; where the band had an excellent and very warm reception from the fans. Where Another one bites the dust sounded in the discos and a lot of people enjoyed that funky vibe in the dance floor.

Even that song won the prize as Best Pop Single. Deaky and Rog were there to receive the prize. John, very happy. But Roger, pretty deceptioned "we are a rock band and we won a prize for best pop single? For God's sake…" he thoughts while they’re receiving the prize.

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Flash recording. Releasing. And now another recording, the album that would be named Hot Space. Now have even more argues and problems, the sound of this album its pretty away of the rockish sound of  the band. The experiment with AOBTD was successful, so, the funky and the (slowly dying) disco music took over the album concept. Even of that way, Brian and Roger could insert rockish songs or at least with powerful guitar riffs. Deaky and Fred must accepted that after a lot of argues, for maintain the good environment in the studio. Specifically, Deaky didn't wanted to have problems with his lover. They have already problems pretending being straights, until decide get out of the closet. He often just sighed deeply, pretending that everything's okay. But his patience was reaching it limit.

One night he couldn’t sleep. Changed a lot of time his position in bed. Deep breath didn't worked in him. He have a lot of angry inside. He needed to vent thru a song. 

He get up of the bed so quickly and was to the studio where he write his songs. In that studio he haves books that covered almost an entire wall, having infront a comfy couch. Next, the window and in front the desk. To the right side of the window, lied his Fender Precision Bass 1968, a keyboard and an acoustic guitar.   

In the studio, he grabbed paper, pen and sat in front of the desk to start to write. Isn't that often that him haves a suddenly inspo to write a full song. But that night was one of the examples. Back Chat born. Reading the paper, he though “I love you… but i’m tired of you complaining about my things and talk behind my back, my dear”.

Trying to not make a lot of noise, he grabbed his bass that are there. He connected to an amp and started to play a bassline. Meanwhile, he thought “I’ll be so funky, more than another one bites the dust… and you will not have your solo. If i can’t modify your arrangements, you will can’t modify this. Eat from your own medicine. I’m so patient, i’m so kind with you, but i’m also done.”

Next day at the studio, he came with that paper in one of his pockets. They entered like any day, but he have a little surprise…

Fred asked finally to him “well darling, do you have something to the new album?"

He extended the sheet to the singer. He has read. The face of Fred was a mix between laugh and confusion.

"My dear, who made you that damage?" finally said watching at the greenish eyes of his friend, curious.

He crossed his arms and "posed". That pose. That face. That smile.

"Don't matters" he said with a ironic voice, and his eyes focused in his lover. Bri watched at him so confused.

Roger, watching the scene and drinking a coffee, said "ha! Couple issues. That's fun guys… I love the drama between you! Thanks to God that I always haves some popcorn! That's better that any soup opera…

Despite the joke, the tension came back once again to the studio. And that just was the beginning. Because after that, Deaky specified that he will play also the guitar, keyboards and even a drum machine.

Bri and Roger started to be very upset. 

"Deaky, man, I love you… but trying to replace me? I'm the drummer! Despite all, I must to play that part!" said the blonde.

Bri, of course, reacted even worst. "Really… REALLY? What the actual fuck? Plus… YOU DON'T WANT A GUITAR SOLO? AND YOU WANT TO RECORD ALMOST ALL? Seriously, this isn't the way to speak about our problems!

Deaky watching to his face and yelling, said: "I'm so done of that attitude of you and more when we try to experiment new things… Always guitar riffs it's boring! Not always we should sound like rock music! Really… my patience it's done for today. Don't speak to me, even you Fred. I just want to be alone!!!"

He grab his things and started to leave the recording studio.

"You should to be alone for being so mean with me!" said Bri almost crying.

John sighed and turned back.

"Look Brian… we're a couple no? Learn to accept your part of the responsibility. I have patience, but isn't endless." he said in a serious tone.

He watched to Roger and Freddie.

"Guys, for today I don't want to work. I'll go to drink something perhaps. Don't try to catch me, please."

He sighed. "Sorry Fred."

And leaved the studio slamming the door.

The three of them tried to back to work. Brian couldn't really. He was crying and drinking a lot of beer. After some hours, he fell asleep in a couch, so drunk, so sad.

Similar scene was John. After a lot of drinks in a near bar and avoiding the occasionals fans trying to get an autograph, came back to the home where the four habits when they're recording an album.

Barely could close the door. His head hurts. His throat wanted to vomit. Walked as he could to the bathroom and threw in the toilet.

When he ended, he just wanted to go to bed.

Opened the door of the room… him was already in bed. And he almost started to cry, but he hadn't energies at all. Just gone to sleep, trying to not wake up to him.

---------------------------

Next morning, first in wake up was the guitarist. And he saw to the another one sleeping so deeply, snoring. He kissed him in the forehead and whispered "I still love you, funky man". And leaved the bed and the room. Moments later, John woke up and he find himself alone, with a hard hungover. He rubbed his eyes and said “ugh why I need to get out of this bed, i’m feeling so terrible”.

He took a bath. After choose his outift for that day and dressing, go to the kitchen to have some breakfast. He found the another three having a nice chat while they were taking their breakfast, until he entered to the kitchen to prepare some tea.

The three watched at him in silence preparing everything to his breakfast. When put the kettle to boil some water, he turned to his bandmates and ask “Who’s died that you’re in silence?”

“Are you better, darling?” Finally Fred says to Deacon.

He sighs deeply. “Yes and not. From the anger from yesterday… fine. But i’m still having a hungover and i’m hungry.” he says, touching his forehead and after his tummy.

Silence again.

Roger, after sipping of his cup of tea, look at John and says to his friend “c’mon mate”

He was confused. “What?”

Brian without rise his sight and moving the little spoon inside the cup of tea, said “an apologize, perhaps.” He sighed deeply and rise his head. Turns around still sat in his chair in Johns direction. “ Sorry for being rude with you yesterday.” added the guitarist.

He watched at him with tears in his eyes. The bassist ran to hug him so tightly.

“no, I’m the one that should apologize”. He caressed the curly hair with his left hand. Being near of the right ear of the guitarist, whispered “you will can have your damn solo if you want. You always get your way, haha”. Watched right to the face of his man, both hands holding that smiling face. He’s smiling too. “I love you”. “Me too my grumpy bassist”, added the elder one. And both kissed softly.

Roger and Fred watched the scene so happy to see that two happy again, until Roger watched to the cooker.

“Fred…? I should say it?” asked sipping his tea, quite cold.

Freddie watched to Roger and shaked his head. “Let them be happy for a moment” and giggled a little.

The water from the kettle was boiling intensely since a couple of minutes...

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If you liked this fic, reblogs are highly appreciated! -Lily

[rydenstories]

I found a journal in my hotel room

REDDIT

My girlfriend and I are just finishing up road tripping around the US, seeing concerts, attending festivals, visiting landmarks, etc. As you can imagine, we've seen a ton. It's been great, but by the time we started our long journey back to our home state, the trip had taken a lot out of us. Not just physical exhaustion, we'd nearly drained our savings for the trip as well. The plan had always been to drive straight through, taking turns at the wheel while the other slept. With tension rising as time passed, the plan quickly changed and we looked for the cheapest (but still nicest) hotel we could find.

Later, we found ourselves pulling up to the building directly next to the highway that would be our haven for the night; a cheap chain hotel with a bright sign that read "NIGHTLY $4O, WEEKLY $200" and a giant parking lot nearly packed full of semi-trucks. There are two more hotels on the same side of the highway underpass similar to this, two gas stations, and a fast food restaurant. The crowning feature of this small area, however, is a goliath stone cross that almost looms from the other side of the highway. It towers over everything, including the church that stands behind it and is illuminated by two bright white spotlights. To be truthful with you, this SOUNDS very odd when typed out but after weeks of driving past countless places like this, it's all just something I've come to shrug off as very mid-west.

The lobby wasn't packed like the parking lot, but there were more people wandering around the main floor than I'm used to seeing in near any hotel. Mostly gentlemen, reading books, eating cup noodle, watching the news, and chatting joyfully. It actually kind of reminded me of living in the dorms during college. Very friendly environment. I found myself surprised at how just... nice everything was for how not nice you'd expect it to be, you know? Still, we didn't really pause to reflect on that before checking in and quickly rushing to our room. My girlfriend did a quick check of her side of the bed and was asleep within minutes, but even with how tired I felt, I couldn't bring myself to go to bed so early and decided to check over the entire room.

Fairly clean. Carpet was really new, too. Not bad for the price. I sat down on the edge of the bed, feeling satisfied enough. Still, I pulled out the nightstand drawer, more-so to satisfy my curiosity about hotel bibles than anything else. Instead, there is this dark blue composition notebook. I've been reading it for a little while now.

It seems to be a journal, with many of the entries summing up the mostly uneventful days of the writer, a truck driver with a wife named Lynae. The writing itself is really messy and although I can tell that the author is deeply thought and well spoken, many of the larger words are spelled phonetically; smart, just not book smart. The journal is really full and some of the earlier entries are really interesting, detailing run-ins with hitchhikers and feuds with other drivers. The entries stop very abruptly and the last few are particularly unsettling. I can't be entirely sure, but I think those were written in this room. These are the last few entries. I've copied them down and done corrections to make it overall more legible, but otherwise I haven't changed anything.

___________________________________________

July 27th The money is in and it is good! I knew Bone would come through for me on that last haul. Now I just gotta get the rig back home! I'm glad I finally have the money to stop and rest in a real bed, too. The old cabin just ain't as comfortable as it used to be. Maybe that's what I'll be fixing next! I called Lynae and let her know I was coming home and she near squealed over the phone. I'm thinking now's the time to get her that pretty ring. Anyway, I saw Monty again today and asked if he was gonna return my MP3 player but he just kind of shrugged me off. It was pretty damn rude, actually. Knew his parents didn't teach him manners. He just got up in his truck, wasn't even gonna stick around. Weird actually, he almost always sacks up for the night, doesn't like driving after dark. Oh well, hope he enjoys a nice night drive! All over nothing!

Anyway, seems time to hit the hay! I'll be headed out tomorrow morning and I'll hopefully be home for supper!

July 28th Woke up this morning with the worst kind of headache. You know the kind that stings behind the eyes, burns your nose? Awful. Soon as I got out of the bed, the nausea hits. Damn it! Happens after every long haul; I get some bug off some dirty oldie who ain't never heard of antibacterial soap and I have to sleep it off in some crummy hotel. Fucking figures. Anyway. Seems like this place is much less crowded than last night and near all of the fellas that are here are total strangers to me. I wandered around a little bit, went to the lobby and grabbed some good stuff from the snack machines. Hung out for a few minutes, too, but instead of the normal circulation of news and talk TV, the counter girl was watching some weird black and white film. I ended up just going back to my room, throwing up a little, and getting some sleep. I napped until now, which it's pretty late. I'm getting 1 AM on my room's alarm clock.

I went downstairs to grab some clean clothes from my rig and smoke a cigarette but the front and side doors of the building were locked. I didn't see any employees around though, so I figure they're on their late night break. I hung out down there for a while and waited for someone to come open it but gave up eventually. If I'm being honest, I was feeling a little uncomfortable. It was too damn quiet. Plus, that church changed the lights shining on that giant cross. They're red. What a weird color for a church to pick. I don't know, maybe the fever is just making me loopy and paranoid. I better try to get some more sleep.

July 29th When I woke up this morning, the alarm clock said it was already well past noon. I thought it couldn't have been right because it was still pitch black in my room, no light shining through the open curtains at all. I got up and sure enough, it was still pitch black outside. So I figured my clock was broken. I guess the fever's got me feeling more and more irritable since I got here, otherwise I don't think I would've even brought it up let alone complained, but I yanked the cord from the wall and left my room.

The lobby was still empty, door still locked, and no employees in sight. I rang the little bell on the counter but nobody came. Hell, I waited in that lobby for a damn hour and nobody came! I'm starting to feel worse, too. My head is pounding so hard and I can't get any damn medicine since I've searched high and low for an unlocked exit and found not a single one. I don't really have any choice except to lay down and rest. Tried to watch TV, but all it's pulling is the weather channel and black & white movies, so I guess I've been watching the weather channel for a couple hours now. I'm going to try to rest more.

Oh. By the time I turned on the weather channel, it was saying it was 2 PM. The clock for sure was not wrong, but I have yet to see any sign of the sun.

August 2nd It's still dark outside and according to the weather channel's date, I'm missing some days. My head is so foggy that if I didn't remember at least a little from the other day, I don't think I'd question the initial notion that I just... slept through it from being so damn sick! I'm not sure that's what this is anymore. I'm not sure what this is at all anymore and frankly, I'm scared as shit.

The bit I can remember is only a small sliver of time. I got up and near shit my pants when I saw that not only was the alarm clock plugged back in, the damn thing was set again. I remember checking the door to find that the privacy lock was sure enough in place. Unlocked it and I swung open the door but then it all goes blank after that. Now I'm here and it's more than a day later and there's some kind of music coming from somewhere. Searched for it but found nothing.

As for the cross, they turned the lights off all together. I went up to the fourth floor to get a good look outside. Seems like everyone just left... All the haulers.... Gas station attendants.... Highway drivers.... Everyone. My rig is the only one in the parking lot. I'm beyond scared... I could break out but I'm so weak.

Aug 3rd My door was open when I woke up. All the doors to all the rooms are open. People's things are sitting around but there are no people. I've stopped pretending that this is normal. Something is so fucking wrong here and I can't even find a single clue as to what's happening or why it's just me. I've slammed my whole body weight into doors, searched high and low for keys or any damn thing that might help me get out of here. Nothing. It doesn't even seem like there's a world out there anymore. Like something just picked the hotel up, emptied all the people out besides me, and let darkness swallow the rest of it up. I can't see anything beyond the parking lot. Somewhere out in the vastness, though, I can hear that music from yesterday. It's something low, with a lady's voice singing over a very slow and out of key piano. She sounds sad but I can't make out what she's actually saying. I think I would be more concerned if the noise itself didn't make my headache so much worse. Instead, I just feel angry.

[[The entries no longer have dates after this and I can only assume they are each separated by at least a day just due to the previous writing pattern, but who knows.]]

xxxx I've spent a lot of time wandering around the hotel. At first, I tried closing all the tenant doors again. It made me uncomfortable to see them that way, but as soon as I'd hear the latch and I'd turn away, they'd loudly swing open again. Scared me shitless, as you can imagine. Then, after a couple more times, pissed me off. Even despite my fucking throbbing headache, all of the rage within my chest spilled out of my throat in a torrent of screams. As you probably could guess. My screams haven't received a response beyond that same sad song that only gets closer. Or louder. I don't know.

I've started searching through the rooms. Going through people's things. I wonder where they are. Did they get to leave? Or did they go somewhere else? I'm still not sure. Does it even matter? Things are getting worse for me regardless what happened to them. 

xxxxx The parking lot is gone. It seems like the closer the darkness creeps towards this place, the worse my headaches get. I've tried to move to a higher room to get away from the darkness, but then I wake up back in my original room again. The weather doesn't play anymore, but the black and white film channel does. I've tried to sit down and watch it, but after a couple minutes, it ends up being far too painful. I can't... describe the pain. It's everywhere. It's in everything, god damn it.

xxxxxx First floor is gone. The cross is back though. It's illuminated in that same strange red light, taunting me from out in the darkness.

I've been through every inch of this damn place, trying to find some kind of haven away from this madness. I tried to go downstairs at one point. Into the darkness. My ears are bleeding now but I made it back to my room in one piece. 

xxxxxxx Oh god. Dear Jesus Christ. Her singing is now screaming. The piano is grating. I wanna go home.

xxxxxxxxx I think this very well might be it. If you'd believe it, the higher floors went before this one, making it damn clear that this has always been coming down to me. It's been coming for me since I got here. I think even Monty could sense it.

Despite having every light in the room on, as well as every single one I could steal from this floor, it just keeps on growing dimmer. The girl. She's not screaming anymore. She doesn't need to scream. She knows I hear her. It's like she's right over my fucking shoulder, whispering right in my ear. And just like that, someone is knocking on the door. Darkness is seeping underneath like black smoke and I know I don't need to answer. It's creeping over the pages, up my arms, shoulders, face, and into my mouth.

Lynae, I'll miss you. ___________________________________________

I'm really.... shocked. It could easily be.... anything..... but something between the too comfortable vibe in the lobby, the handwriting, and the overall feeling I've had since picking the journal up absolutely tells me that there's something to this. Now that I've got it all copied down, I'm getting my girlfriend up. We're taking this journal down to the front desk. God fucking willing, we're leaving as soon as we can.

[selfsaving]

general  meta  on  little  roosters  of  ryan  +  his  state  of  mind     (   plus  some  post - 11lr  stuff  i  accidentally  rambled  about   )

ten  little  roosters     (   contains  heavy  spoilers   !   )

here’s  the  thing  . . .   ryan  is  literally  an  ordinary  guy.  he’s  a  big  nerd  who  plays  video  games  for  a  living  and  likes  his  job  and  then  suddenly  all  his  coworkers  are  dying  around  him.  and  for  a  while ,  HE  REALLY  THINKS  ITS  HIM  KILLING  THEM.

i’ve  spoken  about  it  in  this  post  but  ryan  struggles  to  differentiate  between  real  +  imaginary  sometimes.  he  is  VERY  susceptible  to  suggestion ,  as  in  if  you  say  ‘ ryan ,  you  did  x ’  he  struggles  to  know  whether  that  is  true  or  not.  even  if  there’s  no  WAY  he  could’ve  done  it.

so  barb’s  lil  clues  she  leaves  around  for  ryan  that  HE’S  the  killer  . . .   really  work.  when  miles  finds  him  in  the  sound  booth ,  he’s  locked  himself  in  there  in  fear.  to  see  what’ll  happen  ——  whether  someone  else  will  die.  he  is  TERRIFIED  that  some  dark  side  of  him  has  made  its  way  into  reality  and  he  has  killed  michael  +  the  gavins  while  dissociating.

only  during  all  that  time  he’s  trapped  in  the  prop  room  does  he  sort  of  . . .   calm  down.  start  to  believe  it’s  NOT  actually  him     (   because  why  would  he  be  in  this  damn  hole  if  he  was  the  killer   ??   ).     still  when  barbara  catches  him  and  admits  she’s  the  killer  +  was  manipulating  him  . . .   it’s  quite  a  big  relief  for  him  to  KNOW  that.

he  sees  michael ,  lindsay ,  miles  and  barbara  die.

he  sees  gavin(s)  and  adam  dead  when  still  in  the  building.  he  sees  EVERYONE  ELSE’S  BODIES  at  the  crime  scene  the  next  day.

ryan  does  not  consider  himself  to  have  murdered  barbara.  he  has  intrusive  thoughts  and  nightmares  that  say  the  OPPOSITE ,  but  rationally  he  does  not  blame  himself  for  her  death.  she  was  trying  to  kill  him ;  she  would  have  killed  him ;  it  was  entirely  self  defence.

similarly ,  RYAN  DOES  NOT  CONSIDER  HIMSELF  TO  HAVE  EVER  TAKEN  ANOTHER  PERSON’S  LIFE.  he  knows ,  in  reality ,  that  he  did  kill  barb ,  but  he  doesn’t  fully  believe  it.  CAN’T  bring  himself  to  fully  accept  that  and  i'm  not  sure  he  ever  will.

between  series

the  next  morning  when  he  gets  out ,  the  police  are  there.  obvs  the  rest  of  rt  has  been  trying  to  get  into  work  and  found  it  all  locked  from  the  inside ,  so  when  ryan  emerges  HE  has  to  tell  everyone  what’s  happened.  both  the  police  and  to  his  devastated  coworkers.

the  remaining  achievement  hunters  mourn  together  and  then  disband     (   i  would  imagine  rt  carries  on  but  ah  doesn’t   ).     ryan  doesn’t  really  hear  anything  from  them  after  that.

his  mental  health  in  this  time  . . .   isn’t  great.  he  sort  of  retreats  into  hiding  for  a  little  while     (   a  mixture  of  paranoia  form  intrusive  thoughts  +  nightmares ,  and  because  he  doesn’t  really  know  what  to  DO  now   ).     he’s  really  pretty  isolated  for  a  couple  of  years.

i’m  not  sure  what  changes  for  him  to  come  back  out  again.  but  SOMETHING  about  his  state  of  mind  rejects  his  fear  and  decides  he  doesn’t  want  more  people  to  die.  so  he  offers  services  as  a  sort  of  detective  to  very  select  clients.

eleven  little  roosters     (   also ,  obviously  contains  spoilers   )

for  example ,  rooster  corps   !     well ,  he  less  offer  his  services  ——  more  he  wakes  up  in  a  darkened  room  with  the  the  big  cock  saying  he’s  the  only  man  that  can  help  and  . . .   not  really  giving  ryan  a  choice  otherwise.  BUT  when  he’s  handed  a  stack  of  files  and  sees  that  two  of  his  old  coworkers     (   geoff  and  griffon   )     are  at  risk ,  HE’S  ALL  IN.

his  mental  state  is  actually  a  lot  better  in  11lr.  he’s  had  time  to  prepare  and  brace  himself  ——  and  he  can  stay  HIDDEN  with  the  germans  while  working  on  the  case.  something  about  it  feels  redeeming  to  him     (   maybe  he  couldn’t  save  them  before ,  but  he  can  try  now   ).

the  only  person  he  actually  sees  die  is  adam     (   ryan  goes  to  the  tetris  match  without  telling  anyone   //   following  moose’s  lead   ).     he  sees  gavin  dead  after  the  finale  and  sees  files  +  photos  of  ALL  OTHER  AGENTS’  DEATHS     (   luckily  there’s  no  photos  of  geoff  and  griffon   ).

post - series     (   and  hypothetical  ministry  of  moose  involvement   )

again ,  the  fact  that  he  couldn’t  solve  it  quick  enough  to  save  all  the  agents  haunts  him.  but  his  guilt  is  nowhere  near  as  bad  as  it  was  at  rooster  teeth.  SOME  OF  THEM  SURVIVED ,  and  that’s  better  than  last  time.  and  he  helped  ——  that  makes  him  feel  good.

at  the  end  of  11lr  he  says  he’s  gonna  retire     (   not  feeling  USEFUL  enough   ).     he  probably  goes  back  to  georgia  for  a  while  and  chills  on  a  farm.  and  when  i  say  ‘ a  while ’ ,  i  mean  like  a  month.  NORMAL  . . .   doesn’t  feel  normal  any  more  to  ryan.  he’s  grown  used  to  the  feel  of  danger     (   and ,  weirdly ,  he’s  sort  of  attached  to  the  remainders  of  rooster  corps   ).

my  theoretical  arc  for  ryan  post - 11lr     (   that  i  haven’t  written  up  and  i’m  sure  will  change  if  /  when  12lr  ever  comes  out   )     is  that  he  goes  back  to  the  ministry  of  moose.

he  probably  doesn’t  train  FULLY  like  a  cia  agent  would ,  but  he  definitely  gets  SOME  professional  spy - esque  training     (   and  a  gun   !!!     finally   ).

the  idea  of  going  out  in  the  field  is  a  very  exciting  one  and  he  bugs  the  other  agents  to  let  him  out  quite  often  but  honestly  . . .   he’s  pretty  scared  by  the  idea  of  having  to  kill  someone.  so  he’s  the  ministry’s  tech  guy   !     he  doesn’t  make  gadgets  but  he  does  their  computer  stuff  and  helps  run  the  corps  and  dabbles  in  hacking  a  lil  bit     (   he’s  still  learning  tho   ).

he’s  the  guy  in  the  earpiece  when  agents  go  on  missions ,  so  he  can  help  out  and  be  part  of  the  action  without  actually  BEING  THERE.  again ,  he’s  new  to  it  and  can  get  overenthusiastic  /  too  invested ,  but  he  likes  it   !     he  feels  like  he’s  helping.

his  mental  health  is  ok   !     he’s  ok   !     his  ocd  is  no  worse  than  normal     (   and ,  weirdly ,  being  in  a  dangerous  environment  where  death  and  violence  is  sort  of  normalised  makes  him  feel  sort  of  BETTER  about  having  intrusive  thoughts  like  that   ??     idk  man   )     and  now  he  feels  like  he’s  on  the  general  side  of  good  /  saving  lives.

he  has  bad  NIGHTMARES  about  what  he’s  been  thru     (   there’s  a  few  faces  that  still  haunt  him   )     and  it  fucks  w  his  sleep  schedule  a  lot.  he  has  bad  days ,  but  he’s  got  a  few  friends   !     my  boy  is  damaged ,  but  he’s  a  lil  healed  too  and  he’s  doing  ok.

[well-hidden-hot-mess]

just... idk.

i feel like there’s just so much swirling around in my brain right now and idk what to do with all of it so this is just going to be a brain dump of all of that. not that any of my other posts are anywhere near cohesive or organized but i feel like this one is going to be in a league of it’s own mess wise. 

i’m just falling further and further back into what i can see is going to be another week long depression where all i do is stay in bed and numb out with binge watching tv shows and eating my feelings or not eating at all or a combo of both depending on the day/hour and i don’t know how to stop it. like i’m waking up later and later each day and staying up later and later at night and not being productive until later in the morning because i’m physically tired but not anything too bad but it’s the mental exhaustion that’s keeping me in bed as long as i’m there and what’s keeping me up at night too because it’s easier to stay on the couch and watch another episode vs getting up and getting in my bed and watching it there while i fall asleep at a reasonable hour so i don’t feel as much like shit in the AM. i think it’s a subconscious thing where i feel like i can’t get up and the depression is what’s keeping me on the couch at night like how it normally does during the day. like yesterday after my workout/lunch, i was tired which is normal but not where omg i need to take a nap tired so i set an alarm for 30 mins to give me time to relax but not get too comfy where i don’t leave the couch all day. then i got under a blanket and cuddled up with the big ugg pillow thing that was on the couch from when i was vacuuming and ended up spending 3 hours trying to sleep (vyvanse wouldn’t let me fully fall asleep). so much for what was supposed to be a super productive day... AGAIN. like if it’s once in a while, that’s fine because i’ll know i really need the rest but day by day it’s becoming a lot more resting and a lot less of doing stuff - not even like working out stuff but just movement in general where it feels like i just give up on the day so early and not even for like a good reason and it’s not like i actively decide like okay today’s a rest day, i’m just going to chill. it’s like something that just gradually happens as the day goes on where i’m like oh i’ll workout later, later, later, until eventually it’s 9pm and i’ve done nothing all day and just give up. that’s the annoying part because i’m not even like making the conscious decision, it’s like my brain is telling me yeah we’re totally going to get up in 30 mins when that alarm goes off when really it’s like laughing at me because it has no intention of getting up and just keeps telling me what i want to hear so i’ll feel better about it and will stay doing nothing like it wants. i just feel like i have no control over anything anymore and i just don’t know what to do to “fix” that or to regain some sort of control. for a few weeks at least i had my diet and workouts figured out and they happened no matter what mood i was in and even if it wasn’t the walk/run i had planned on doing, at least i did yoga instead so it was some kind of movement and that was fine with me. but now i can’t even get myself to do yoga or anything because i’m too numbed out watching the closer all day and i can’t be bothered to like hype myself up to do anything because subconsciously i know my brain has no intention of following through on that. i normally wake up most days with some level of positivity even the day after i went off track but the last few days i wake up and i’m immediately like ugh. not ugh that i’m alive or anything but just like ugh i have to do this all over again because i know i’m going to have to fight the same mental battles to do even the bare minimum or less of what will make me feel good about the day or something like that. idk how to describe it but i know what i mean. it’s more like to put my type a self at ease like okay we were productive enough to satisfy that part of my mentality. when i’m like this just everything feels like it takes so much more effort than it normally does and combine that with a brain that’s actively trying to push me to the numbing stuff vs the positive stuff, it feels like i’m just stuck in a loop of shit day after shit day where all i’m doing is fighting the same losing battle with myself over and over again. i know being cooped up in my apartment all the time isn’t helping but at the same time, i can’t get myself to go out and do anything other than walk down to publix because i’m out of food. i’ve had money for 2 days already and i haven’t gone to target yet... that’s how you know i’m struggling. that’s why a part of me wants to go find a part time job to ease me back into leaving my apartment and driving somewhere on a semi regular basis again instead of diving head first into it but at the same time i know i’m nowhere near mentally okay enough to bring the stress of learning a new job and pushing myself to leave the apartment right now so i feel stuck. i think that’s also why i liked doing the outdoors workout as part of 75 hard because it helped me practice getting ready and leaving my apartment and going out into the real world every day without the added pressure of having to do anything but just walk which i enjoyed doing. i also hate how much i have to baby myself right now and it’s so beyond frustrating for someone who saw herself as a strong, driven person who could take on anything and now i have to hype myself up to do the simplest tasks and i just hate it. other than the obvious reasons why i hate it so much i think it’s also triggering something in me where i had to do the same thing with like my workouts/activity because of the lyme/migraines and it’s putting me bac in that mentality of being a victim - not that i’m playing the victim but more like how i have to adjust my life and hold myself back because of things that are out of my control that are what’s actually holding me back and i can’t just fix it or put my head down and push through it like i normally do with other things. i really do feel like a victim of my mental health issues and my lyme disease and the fun side effects that come with it like migraines, etc and i hate it because then i feel weak because of the babying that has to happen because of it and because i can’t just power through. i also feel like idk damaged and pathetic which i know isn’t fair because these things are out of my control but i still just feel like it defines me because of the limitations it puts on me and how in my head how other people see me as the “poor lyme girl” or whatever and i hate it because that’s not who i want to be or am meant to be. that’s why up until now i’ve lived in spite of the issues i have to deal with and use the sicilian stubbornness to put my head down and just power through those struggles but now i feel like i’m too mentally sick to do that and i feel like i’m losing that part of my identity that i’ve had for so long and one of the few parts i was really proud of and now it’s like i have nothing left of my identity. like depression has taken away that part of my identity and now even things like working out that used to be such a huge part of my life and such a positive thing for me has now become something associated with the issues i’m dealing with - having to hold back how intensely i can workout because of fear of getting a 3 day long migraine if i push it too hard or get too hot or being too physically exhausted afterwards for 3 days where i can’t do anything else. the more annoying thing is that i’m already working at like 50% intensity of where i used to be and even then i’m having to watch out to not overdo it and how easily i can cross that line and i just feel so fragile now and i think that’s what’s pissing me off the most. to lose my identity as a mentally and physically strong person who everyone was amazed was still standing let alone working like 40 hours with all the extra unpaid hours i put in and then went and worked out really hard and lifted heavy weights and even the level of intensity of my workouts were impressive for a “normal” unsick person let alone someone who almost died from lyme disease and had the highest levels in all of CT and has even had daily infusions for months on top of so many other rounds of treatments to kill it and now i have to worry about the up and down motion of bodyweight lunges or crunches is going to trigger a migraine and god forbid i’m not in a freezing cold climate controlled environment or else my lungs are going to freak out and trigger a migraine. that’s the word i was looking for before - fragile. that’s what’s pissing me off so much about this. i’ve fought so hard to be the strong person despite my issues and that was my identity for so long and i thrived by using that to push me and now that that’s gone, i just don’t know who i am anymore. i lost my identity of being the fit girl who could do all these amazing things in spite of the shit i had to deal with that was out of my control and now i feel like i don’t have anything left so it’s like well who am i then? and all i can come up with is the fragile sick girl who’s mental/physical illnesses define her and limit her and are in control of her/her life and that’s what i fought so fucking hard for so long to not be defined as and now it feels like all of that effort and fighting was worthless because i ended up that girl anyway. the logical part of my brain knows that this phase of my life isn’t going to be how the rest of it goes and it’s just one chapter of my life but right now it’s hard to see it ever changing and god just the thought of that just makes me so sad and hopeless. like i don’t want to die - i really don’t - but i’m dreading living if this is what’s ahead of me for the next like 50+ years. plus what am i going to do when my mom can’t financially support me anymore? i just don’t think i wanted to admit this to myself and now that it’s out there, it just hurts because now it’s real and i can’t ignore these feelings anymore. i know that i want to actually feel my emotions instead of numbing them but fuck this sucks. again logically i know it’s not going to last forever and i’m going to figure it out because the mentally and physically strong, driven person is who i really am and that will prevail over all of this other bullshit but right now this just fucking sucks and i hate it and i just want to skip to where i’m past this and back to the real me, not the sick me. even if i have to deal with lyme for the rest of my life, that’s fine but it’s this major depression and anxiety bullshit that i can’t live with forever because it’s ruining my life. not only now but it’s ruined from like 17 on for me and those are the best years of your life where you figure out who you are and the life you’re going to have and here i am at practically 30 years old and this is where i am in life and it’s not even about comparing myself to others or where i “should be” by now or anything - it’s more that i know the window is closing on certain things i want to happen in my life like starting.a family. i’m already low energy now so imagine me at like 40 chasing around.a toddler... it’s shit like that that really fucks with me because i know i won’t be the best parent i can be and won’t be able to give my future child the best life it could have if i’m constantly stuck on the sidelines because of my illnesses and that just breaks my heart because that would just suck and because now that i’m older i’ve realized that i do want to be a mother and yes i know adoption is an option but not for me. unless i physically am unable to have kids or there’s a risk to their health or something, i want to have my own kid (s). nothing against anyone else obv but it’s just not what i want and i know the clock is ticking on that even being an option so i have to find someone to love me and not just like going through the motions for the rest of my life “love” but like real, true, what movies are made after kind of real love and with how low my self esteem is and how guarded i am and all that other bs, i’m honestly worried i won’t find it and then i’m going to die alone or in a miserable relationship that doesn’t live up to what i want for.myself that i’ll resent and that just sounds miserable and i don’t want it. 

ugh there’s still so much more to go into but i think i need a break. 

[bitter-bitchbites]

Genuine question, if being trans isn't seen as a medical condition isn't that a bad thing? Insurance wouldn't cover life saving surgeries/hormones, so isn't that detrimental and against the trans communities interests?

“fair” point in theory, but you’re not seeing the matter from the right angle, because you got a transantagonistic and cissexist bias.

being trans isn’t a medical condition and it does not inherently implies medical care. 

transitioning does. like, yeah, hrt, surgeries, stuff that some trans people need so their dysphoria stop beating them in a metaphorical bloody pulp, because they need their body changed so they stop feeling so suicidal. insurance should cover that, because yeah, their mental health and life depend on it.

and no, the “trans” isn’t short for “transitionning”. it’s short for “transgender”, that was thought to contrast with “cisgender”, and “trans” has the sense of “crossing to the other/another side here, while “cis” means staying on the same side one starts on, more or less. that’s ancient greek, i think. so being trans isn’t defined by transitionning. transitionning is a choice, and sometimes it’s not, because sometimes it’s the only solution to not break because of dysphoria.

because of course, dysphoria is also its own medical thing, it’s a mental disorder, that can cause depression, self harm, self hatred, and suicidal urges.

but not every trans person has deadass terrible dysphoria that we can’t deal with without changing our bodies at a high price. some have mild dysphoria, that they can deal with haircuts, different clothes, and shaping their bodies in one they like themselves as and all. sometimes it’s bargaining because they can’t afford surgery, but sometimes, they just don’t feel like they need surgery. and yeah im mainly talking about nb trans ppl, altho there gotta be binary trans ppl who are like that too. i just know that it’s smtg we nb ppl often feel like. 

nonbinary ppl show that (hence why transmedicalists aka truscums hate us, tho idk why they care so much about pathologizing us and themselves). we don’t always hate our body. there are trans ppl, nb or not, that don’t suffer dysphoria, because dysphoria isn’t smtg you’re born with, it’s a disorder that’s caused by a bad environment that triggers it. 

extreme example, imagine a trans boy who’s forced at age 0 into pink dresses, pink shoes, pink hats, drinks from pink cups, in a pink chair, sleeps in a pink bed, in a pink room. and he’s said “you’re a girl girly girl” all the time, goes to dancing class because “that’s what girls do”, is put on make up cuz “that’s what girls like” and can’t put on pants cuz “that’s not a girl thing”. forced in a cissexist bs mold. a nightmare. it’s not that that makes him a boy, he was a boy at age 0, regardless or circumstances; but he grew in an environment he could not be comfortable exploring his identity and questioning his assigned gender. and that’s going to worsen his already possible dysphoria. 

but being trans isn’t what’s going to make him break down and slap his abusive mother with that fucking pink violin, and run away to live with his bf in the next state raising cats, no, that’s his anger caused by the hurt of his many mental illnesses, dysphoria being one of them.

being trans doesn’t cause pain. it’s dysphoria’s fault. and not every trans person has dysphoria, and sometimes nb ppl have dysphoria, and sometimes not and they’re still trans, and some trans ppl’s dysphoria goes away at some point. but being trans doesn’t.

and take me for example. i have dysphoria. had it since i was 10. im a demigirl. that’s a nb(trans) woman identity. but i don’t wanna change my body with surgery. i don’t want to take away parts of myself, because i got enough of that, and i want to love my body. so instead i wanna add stuff, like letting my body hair do its thing, and not wearing bras and getting muscles, and asking ppl to use they/them for me, and not try and push me into being whatever tf they think a cis girl does. and that, plus mental work on my image, helped me tone down my dysphoria. maybe i’ll see if i can get hormones, if it doesn’t turn out i already have pocs. i was sick because of my dysphoria. not because im trans.

there’s a lot of cases like this that are weird and hard to understand, maybe, but they all point to one thing: the problem is dysphoria and other mental illnesses caused by being misgendered and abused.

i wanna be trans. i like that. it’s good, it’s me, it helps me, the community is mostly nice, im at peace with that label, and i don’t want to have it taken off. because that’s what it’d mean, to see transidentity as a medical condition. it’s be an illness. something to correct, to fight, to destroy. i don’t want to fight myself. neither does the majority of trans ppl.

so no, not pathologizing transidentity isn’t anywhere near detrimental to the trans community. because we still have valid problems that deserve specific attention, we still have dysphoria, we still want to transition, and we deserve the health care that we need to cope with cissexist abuse. the problem isn’t being trans. it’s the environment, the ppl, the society we live in. and doctors already know that. they don’t allow you to get hrt on insurance because you’re trans. they do because they dx you have dysphoria. that’s literally how they decide if we deserve to get the treatment we know we need. sometimes they won’t even dx ppl with dysphoria that they have dysphoria, because they’re “too mentally ill for that”, or “too sane to be trans”. and hormones don’t even cost as much as we gotta pay them. the prices are artificially inflated, like most medicines, because a compagny own them.

trans ppl don’t need to be pathologized to get the issues linked to our marginalized identity acknowledged. insurance would/should cover surgery and hrt regardless of what ppl think being trans is. because when we say we got a fucking problem or need things, we should be listened.

we would be, if our society cared. we wouldn’t be pathologized if our governments weren’t cissexist trans-hating little shits.

another example, a comparison this time. being afab isn’t an illness. but we still need medical attention, like detecting breast and uterus cancers, or other gyneacological treatment that can be a matter of life and death. and to that, you add the mental baggage caused by being in a mysoginistic cissexist patriarchy. sounds like worth being covered by insurance, uh? well not to many pseudo-civilized countries, but to the happiest on earth, it does, and it works. and yet being afab, especially a cis woman, isn’t an illness, or a curse.

because yeah, we also used to think that women were inherently sick and taht they needed men’s guidance and validation to be allowed to live, it’s just the same fucking mentality, but applied to trans ppl, with cis ppl. 

we’re not the correct gender, we don’t even perform it correctly, so we’re not worth being cared and listened to.

that’s victim blaming. that’s putting ppl under oppression, making them grow in a toxic environment they can’t escape from because it’s their very identity that’s thought to be inherently hostile, and we tell them it’s their fault. that they’re sick and that’s it.

considering being trans a medical condition is fucking murder. you’re placing the power in cis ppl’s hands doing that, because that means we’re to be corrected, and only them can do that. it also gatekeeps from getting treatment. it also misplaces the blame on our identity when it should be on our oppression.

being transmedicalist is allyship to the cistem. that’s believing the lie they made up to say we only deserve care if we accept that we’re sick, and to be ashamed.

im repeating myself, but insurance should cover our treatments for our dysphoria, and let us do what we wish of our bodies and identity as we endanger no one. nobody is allowed to call us ill for what we are while ignoring what we suffer of. we should get at least partially insurance covered surgery and hrt and completely insurance covered when we have dysphoria. it’s possible. spain does it, in good enough conditions. yeah, spain, the catholic country that was still a royalist dictatorship fourty years ago. and france too, can do the insurance coverage, even if it’s harder because you need psychiatric approval first, which is bs and intrusive. 

we aren’t sick for being trans, we deserve to be listened on our terms, that’s not a fleeting dream, and that’s not up to debate. 

and we’re going to change shit so we can get that.

[noiseartists]

Amusement Parks On Fire: The indie minstrels of Nottingham

Amusement Parks is Noise Pop / Shoegaze band from Nottingham, UK. We are humbled by their kindness to agree spend some time with Noise Artists for an interview, and slightly star-struck.

The band present themselves very well on Facebook:

Amusement Parks On Fire first came to prominence in 2004 with the release of the eponymous debut album, conceived and consummated by the then-adolescent founder Michael Feerick and phonically actualised on a shoestring. Issued on Geoff Barrow (of Portishead)’s Invada label, it was described by the then-relevant New Musical Express as "hedonistic teenage genius" and saw itself projected onto the planetary meta-retina. A live line-up was essentially preformed and extensively performed with the likes of Dinosaur Jr, The Flaming Lips, M83 and dEUS among innumerable other acts of the era. The unit then retreated to Sigur Rós’ private swimming-pool sanctuary Sundlaugin in Mosfellsbær, Iceland to complete the venturesome sophomore release 'Out Of The Angeles', during which time they experimented with sleep, sustenance and sunlight deprivation at the insistence of V2 Records. After several years of international incidence the band crash-landed in Los Angeles in 2009 to make 'Road Eyes' with producers Michael Patterson (Beck, Nine Inch Nails) and Nicolas Jodoin (Arcade Fire, Black Rebel Motorcycle Club). Again inspired by the locale, the collection was intended as 'a skewed Californian contemporary-classical' with Alternative Press characterising it as "sun-drenched, challenging and gratifying… a near-perfect album". After an 88 month moratorium the band returned in November 2017 with a new single 'Our Goal To Realise' and coinciding UK live performances, followed swiftly in April of this year with the concept EP 'All The New Ends' and a concert tour of mainland Europe. In December, the collective play 3 special UK shows at which they promise to perform material from the next album 'An Archaea' for the first time, alongside deep cuts from their extensive back catalogue.

The current line up is:

Michael Feerick, guitar, vocals

Peter Dale, Drums

Gavin Poole, bass

Rafe Dunn, Guitar

Joe Hardy, keyboards/guitar

Their impressive musical work to date is:

Venosa/Eighty Eight, EP, 2005

Blackout, EP, 2005

Amusement Parks on Fire, LP, 2005

In Flight, EP, 2006

Out of the Angeles, LP, 2006

A Star Is Born, EP, 2007

Young Fight, EP, 2009

Road Eyes, LP, 2010

Our Goal To Realise, EP, 2017

All The New Ends, EP, 2018

This interview is the perfect new year gift to discover or revisit their music while learning more on the band. We hope you enjoy.

What is your music about?

Not to be a spoilsport but I don’t really like attempting to characterize it in any meaningful sense as it only really serves to diminish it and spoil the fun. I guess what I love about music is it’s such an expressive medium, a way of communicating things that can’t be described, so analyzing it on paper is kind of irrelevant and boring. But yeah, it’s mainly about struggling to accept a prescribed reality and being sad about that.

What are your goals as an artist artistically/commerically?

I guess artistically the goal is probably to give the thing you’re working on a reason to exist, to justify adding it to the already overwhelming amount of man-made information in the universe. It’s not always easy to justify that to yourself. I made fun of my issues with that on our song ‘Our Goal To Realise’. The only real commercial goal we have is to break-even on tour. Anything beyond that would be ridiculous to conceive of.

Who would you want as a dream producer, and why?

Hmmm maybe Jim O’Rourke. Way back in like 2004 someone working with us suggested him as a producer but I wasn’t too familiar with his stuff. In the intervening years I’ve become his biggest fan. He’s either made or produced some of the best music I’ve ever heard and yet he seems like a humble, humorous dude, which is to his credit. Maybe the stars will align one day but I’m not holding the phone. Well, I am but only ‘cos I’ve got literally all of his recordings on it. Also, Ken Thomas. We talked to him loads and loads about making a record but couldn’t figure out how to fund it at the time. I’m still really gutted, he’s a lovely chap and seems to really understand us too.

What are you trying to avoid as a band?

Any relevance or commercial success WHATSOEVER. Not really. Well… I’d refer back to a couple of questions ago. I guess we want to avoid making the stuff mundane, stopping before you’ve made something that goes a little further than it could have. We’re trying to avoid leaving the EU too but not having much luck there. Trying to avoid it being too expensive for us to tour in Europe next year.

Explain your songwriting process.

If I could, I would. Actually, I probably wouldn’t. Either way, it’s more of an anti-process. My theory is, if I make no discernible effort at all, the stuff I do do, or do remember, is gonna be legit. That goes some way to explaining why there has been such a gap before this next album. We could have recorded one in 2010 but I don’t see any point in writing for the sake of it or rushing to release a record. It’s got to happen when it wants to happen. Plus, who could be bothered to do anything?

In 2018 there is no new or old music to a 17 year old with internet access. Discuss.

I think I know what you’re getting at. I don’t know if I have any opinion on the way people consume music anymore though. I’ve never thought of music as new or old really. Unless it’s very cynically of a particular time and therefor dates terribly. You can listen to stuff from the 50’s on some good headphones and it sounds like it’s happening in that very moment. That’s the magic of recording I guess. Moreover, I don’t really believe time exists. The concepts of new and old are manufactured notions of no consequence. So, I’m non-plussed.

Why do you make the music you make?

I don’t know why anyone does anything at all. I suppose it’s an exercise in making something intangible in your mind into something subjectively real so yourself and others can appreciate it. Plus, it’s fun.

Describe your palette of sound.

I mean, at the risk of sounding vague again, it’s infinite, isn’t it? If you can imagine it, you can figure out how to make it. If you limit yourself in that respect there’s no point. I spend far less time thinking about guitar tones than i do about structure, melodic arrangement and the like. That’s where the real beauty and intrigue is for me. We are obviously jonesing on guitars most of the time but that’s only because that’s what we have lying around and it’s such a handy songwriting tool.

Which of your albums are you the most proud of? Why?

It’s trite but it would be like choosing which of your kids you’re most proud of. They all came around at different times in your life, under different circumstances. They all drive you irreparably insane and bankrupt you. You love all of them and they are all part of you. I’m just as proud of the JCDX album. I guess I was a kind of sonic sperm-donor on that one, just to rinse this analogy completely.

As a touring band, what do you find the hardest? The best?

These days, just getting everyone in the same place at the same time. The logistics are the only concern. Once we’re in the van, it’s always great. I feel really grateful that venues and promoters are still willing to have us. We went away for quite a while so we’re kind of a risk in some places I imagine. It seems even more special now to show up somewhere far away from home and there are people there to see you, after like FIFTEEN years. Fuck.

You write a good amount of songs in different time signatures, like 7/8, do you set out to write that way or does it come naturally ?

It’s never for the sake of it. It has to occur naturally with the vocal melody and everything. 7 feels pretty natural too. I’ve wondered why we find 4 the easiest to deal with. I imagine there’s a scientific reason for that, human language patterns and stuff. But it seems kind of arbitrary to me!

You’re from Nottingham, has the environment affected your sound?

Absolutely yeah. Maybe not the sound so much as the approach and the attitude towards what we’re doing. There’s a really great, independent scene in Nottingham that isn’t beholden to any one genre. A really healthy amount of bands and artists supporting each other and helping each other out. I’m always blown away when bands from other towns talk of competition with other local bands. That is so alien to me. Plus, it’s right in the middle of the country so you can usually drive home from any show if you have to, which helps a lot.

Find Amusement Parks On Fire here:

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