I've been attempting to think of a new contest fic for Death Note, but I've been coming up short of ideas. So in the meantime, I noticed that in the reviews for The Contest of Epic Insanity, the fact that Matsuda would probably need therapy was brought up more than a few times. So, while I was bored and pulling an all-nighter, I decided to actually write something like that. More chapters to come, hopefully. Enjoy!

Matsuda nervously sat down in one of the therapy clinic's waiting room chairs, waiting to be told that the therapist he had made the appointment with was ready for him. He had never been to therapy before—there had never been the need—and he was beginning to get cold feet.

He had no idea what the therapist was going to be like. Would they be a man or a woman? Would they be young like L, or old like Watari? Would they be patient, or quick to anger? Would they sit there taking notes on everything he said, or would they simply listen?

What if they turned out to be a smelly, creepy, super-old person with giant, hairy warts covering the expanse of their face? What if they were actually an alien in disguise, and decided to shapeshift into their non-human form right in front of him and eat his flesh? What if they were an incredibly hot woman and he got all tongue-tied? What if they figured out that Taro Matsui was his alias and asked him for his real name? What if they were Kira?

Just as Matsuda was beginning to think that he needed therapy because of therapy, the door to one of the therapist offices opened and a girl came out carrying a clipboard. An incredibly cute girl.

She looked to be in her early twenties, with somewhat short hair—the colour of milk chocolate—that was pulled back in pigtails. She wore tiny, round reading glasses. Her eye's scanned the paper with the list of appointments that were held in place by the clipboard. The name printed on the staff member card she wore around her neck read "Chinatsu Misaki." It was also her name that was written on the door of the office she had just come out of.

"Is there a…Taro Matsui here?" Chinatsu read off.

Matsuda almost tripped for how quickly he stood up. "Uh, me," he said, waving his arm slightly to make sure she saw him.

With such a cute therapist, I shouldn't have been so worried, Matsuda laughed inside his head.

She smiled at him and said, "Right this way, then." Matsuda grinned, expecting to be led straight into Chinatsu's office.

However, he was confused when she led him all the way left, down the hall.

"Where are we going?" he asked finally. "Isn't your office back over there?"

Misaki laughed and said, "Yes, that's correct."

"…Then where are we going?"

Misaki turned down yet another hallway, leading Matsuda past office after office. "Dr. Lauren's office is the very last office at the end of the left hallway. We're almost there."

"Wait…but I thought that my appointment was with you…?" Matsuda twisted the statement to be more of a question.

The brunette giggled. "Nope, I only deal with suicidal patients. You, if I'm not mistaken, are here for…" she referred to her clipboard briefly, "numerous phobias, a possible post traumatic stress disorder, and an inferiority complex, all of which were caused by…" she stared at the paper with a raised eyebrow, "… 'the results of a contest between a grumpy, sleep-deprived detective and an overexcited, sleep-deprived genius'…" Misaki trailed off.

"Don't ask…" Matsuda groaned.

"Technically, I'm not allowed to. I'm not your therapist. By the way, we've arrived at her office. Good luck," Chinatsu said before walking away.

Matsuda sighed. Perhaps I shouldn't have included so much detail in my file… he thought. When it's said out loud, it actually sounds really dumb…

He slowly opened the door to "Dr. Lauren's" office.

Inside, an older woman sat behind a large desk.

The lady couldn't have been any younger than 55, and looked to be at most 66. She had semi-long, greyish/white hair that was pulled back in a ponytail. She was muscular—more muscular than an old woman should ever be. She had a stern, stiff look on her face.

Matsuda felt afraid of her.

"You must be Taro Matsui," the woman said with a deep voice. "I am Doctor Lauren, and I will be your therapist. You are going to get better. And if you don't…well, let's just hope you do." She formed a fist with her hand subconsciously. "So, shall we begin?"

First things first…I know that on my profile it says that I hate OCs. Don't get me wrong—I still do. But for this story, I could see no other way around it. There were no Death Note characters that I could think of who could have possibly played the role of Matsuda's therapist. Thus, "Dr. Lauren" was born.

I might have a promising idea for a new contest…I won't go into the details, but it has to do with each person from the investigation team writing down like 5 embarrassing things about themselves, and then everyone's "embarrassing things cards" all get mixed together in a big pile. The goal is to then try to match up all of the "embarrassing thing cards" with the correct people who wrote them. The winner gets to know all of the embarrassing things about all of the other participants, but is not allowed to tell anyone else which cards went to whom. Participants are allowed to use any methods of trickery to figure out which embarrassing things match up with whom, but there is a time limit of maybe like 2 weeks to figure it out. If there hasn't been a winner after 2 weeks, everyone will be forced to read all of the embarrassing things about themselves to everyone. That's the basic outline. But I would like people's opinions on this idea before I go and start writing out/starting a fic with the potential to be really confusing to write about, just to have everyone find it sucks. x.x Oh my god, I started out saying that I wasn't going to get into the details. ._.

I'm sorry, people. I haven't slept in almost two days, and when I'm tired, I just start rambling…going on and on and on and on and on and on and on…I think you get the point. I'll stop now.

Don't forget to review! I love to hear your opinions! Even if you just say one word! Even if it's just like… "cabbage," or something else that's totally pointless and meaningless in this context! Just say something! :D

Hopefully this fic will start actually being funny in the next chapter…

~Ratt K.

4/10/2011