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Similar Deviations
Sometimes I like to watch people.

In the far edge in the middle of the park, there was a bench and a small girl was sitting on it. That girl was sitting patiently and quietly on the bench. She had no intentions being at the park. The girl quietly sits on the dry, wooden bench, next to another bench and a tall, leafless tree. People tend to walk by and rush away to their desired destinations while the girl sits still in no motion watching them. She watches many people. Tall people, short people, thin people and even thick people. She doesn’t really care because all she knows is watching people makes her happy.

The day goes by quick, and the park empties out completely. There was no one to watch; no one to look at. At night, the air is very sleet. The coldness wraps around the girl like a blanket and forces her to leave. Still, the girl continues to sit on the cold, dry wooden bench and watch the stars. But this was not pleasing her. This was not pleasing her because those stars were not people.

Exactly at 9:45PM, she gets up from her spot and quietly walks home. Each step she walks makes a quiet skipping sound. Shht. Shht. Shht. The sound echoes throughout the streets she walks on. The night was silent. Nobody could be seen or heard. Nobody.

Exactly at 10:00PM she arrives home. She enters her home and retires for the day.

The next morning, the girl wakes up exactly at 6:05AM. She ready’s herself for another day at the park. She’s always the first person to be there. Always. She sits in the same spot she sat in the day before, and looks out into the park; enjoying its fine scenery. The morning passes, and the afternoon is where most of the people walk through the park. She recognizes most of these people’s faces; the man in the business suit with blonde hair that reaches his ears. She remembers him. He comes every day at exactly 11:35AM to take a shortcut to his work. She also recognizes the lady that brings her kids to the park every other day, or that man selling hot dogs. There are many people she recognizes.

But her eyes catch a boy who she doesn’t recognize at all.

Sometimes I find myself attracted to a person.

That young man had light blonde hair that reached his ears. It was loose and looked like it was made out of silk. They were reflecting the sun’s rays. His face was shimmering with a small glow in the light. His skin was pale. His eyes were wandering the beauty of the park. He wore a light blue cotton t-shirt and khaki colored capris with army pockets and lining. He’d seem like a regular young man in the park on a Saturday morning; but no, the girl knew he wasn’t. Forget all the other people walking down the narrow passageway to the other side of the park. Forget the screams and laughter of small children playing the wet grass.  Forget the smell of barbeques and rusted tire hinges on the side of a car. She felt herself attracted to one person, and that was him.

He continues to walk through the crowd and end up on the other side of the park. The girl was too shy to move. She followed him with her eyes instead. She stood still and carefully watched the young man walk into a store. That motivated her to get up and follow him.

To see exactly what he does.

Sometimes, I will keep watching them.

The next morning at exactly 6:05AM, the girl quickly got up and dressed herself for another day at the park. She wonders to herself if he is going to be there too; in the same spot, at the same time. Oh she’ll be waiting.
Her predictions were right; he was there at the same spot, just arriving seven minutes later than exact. He wore a different darker shade of blue cotton t-shirt, but still wore the same khaki colored capris with the army pockets and lining. She thought they looked better than yesterday.

She quietly sits on the bench, admiring the young man when he suddenly notices her glancing at him from afar. She catches her actions and turns a rosy pink. The girl still stays put and buries her hands in her skirt pockets and hides her nose and mouth in her scarf. He steadily makes his way over to her and happily greets her with a smile.

“Hello,” he jovially welcomes. “I’ve noticed your eyes have been gazing in my direction,” He gave a warm smile and sat next to the girl. She was very embarrassed that the one she seemed attracted to catch her admiring him from afar. “It’s okay if you seem embarrassed. I feel like that all the time.”

She looked up at him. “You do?”

“Of course! Trust me; I’ll be the clumsiest person you know.” It’s noon already. She’s been intently looking at him for over fifteen minutes. It’s now 12:01PM now. “By the way, I’m Tino.” He was looking for a response of her name but she instead took out a small notepad and a ballpoint pen and wrote it down. She held it up for him to see. “Ah. Hello to you there.” He shook her hand and helped her get up. “I hope we can soon meet each other again.”

“As do I.” She sweetly replied. With that, he left the park at exactly 12:08PM.

Sometimes, I will follow them to the bus stop…

April 19, 2003
12:47PM; Central Bus Station

It’s raining.  The people I watch all have umbrellas, just like I do. Except mine isn’t decorated with patterns or light colored pastels. It was black; black as a raven’s soul. But it doesn’t matter, because his bus stop comes exactly at 12:50PM. Ah, there it is. Right on time.

The girl closed her journal and locked it away in her small, brown messenger bag. She sits on the cold, wet bench while holding the black umbrella above her head. She watches Tino get off the bus and into the sidewalk. He’s wearing a black coat to match his dark blue jeans. He’s so cute while he waits. He walks into the station at 12:54PM.
She takes out her Polaroid camera and takes a picture of him. The film comes out and she dries it quickly. She still waits there, watching him meet up with important people and give hugs and kisses with relatives of his. Though jealously builds up inside her, she still remains cool and watches him from afar.
He then leaves the station with his family at 1:03PM. She quietly gets up from her spot, and continues her journey stalking the poor young man.

…to the grocery store…

April 30, 2003
3:26PM; Local Manhattan Farmer’s Market

The sound of a tacky grocery store’s tune played. It filled the place with joy while also covering up the sounds of the girl’s footsteps following Tino. She turns the corner, and spots him in the international food selections. He grabs two bags of Finnish pulla and a pound American ground coffee. He sets them into the basket he’s holding and whistles while making his way into the checkout line. She quickly follows him from behind.

She takes out her journal and writes the following:

“I wonder exactly he’s going to do with two bags of Finnish Pulla; especially with a pound of ground coffee. Is it a tradition of his? I also wonder if he’s Finnish. His name does sound exotic. There are some small details I desire to learn about within him. What is his favorite color? Any hobbies he does? When does he plan to go to school again? Does he have a girlfriend, or perhaps a significant other?

Why is he buying those things…?”

She puts away the ballpoint pen and tucks the journal away in the same, small brown messenger bag. She takes out the exact same camera she had before and snaps a picture of him. The film comes out slowly and she dries it out. By the time she put it away, Tino was done paying for his items and walked right out of the store exactly at 3:39PM. It’s almost time for afternoon Tea at Buckingham palace with the Queen. And also time for another person to be watched.

…to their job…

May 12, 2003
8:08AM; Manhattan Children’s Hospital

“And here is your medicine, Peter.” Tino bent down to the height of Peter and gently handed him a small prescription container filled with mini tablets meant for children. “Take one every day before you go to school in the morning. Okay, kiddo?”

“Got it Mr. Tino!” Peter giggled and Tino stood up to stretch. Peter and his father thanked Tino and left the Hospital. It appears Tino has a part time job as a children’s psychiatrist. He walked down the hall into a room. The girl followed him into his office, only peeking outside of his office. Luckily, there were seats next to her. She grabbed a pamphlet and pretended to read.

While she wasn’t noticing, a doctor walked into his office. “Mr. Väinämöinen,” he addressed.

“Yes, Dr. Jones?” Tino softly replied.

“A patient is having an operation in a few hours. This particular patient though, has the blood type of O- and you’re the only one in this building who has the most compatible blood type to anybody. Would you be willing to donate blood for this patient?” Dr. Jones asked. Tino gave a worried look and gave out a sigh.

“Okay, I’ll be willing. Just how much does the patient need?”

“We’re not certain. We averaged it out to about two pints. We do not know if we need one or two, though. This is a risky task, Tino. Are you certain you can handle this?”

“I am certain. I’ll do it.” Tino followed Dr. Jones out of his office. The girl quickly followed closely behind. They went into the blood testing room and Dr. Jones called in for a professional to draw out the two pints of blood. The man first told Tino to relax his arm while they numb the circulation of his veins. He then puts rubbing alcohols on the inside of his right elbow and punctuates the desired spot. She could see the horror on his face while the man draws his blood. Two pints is a lot.

Once the blood was drawn, they were separated into two pouches, both going to the surgeons. Apparently, they only needed a pint of blood and Dr. Jones asked Tino if he wanted to put back the pint of blood into his system again. Tino rejected the offer, only because he’s afraid of sharp objects piercing into his skin. She snuck into the operating room and took the other pouch of O- blood. She quickly hid it inside her bag and went to check on Tino. He was quietly resting his head on the table. What a sweet sight that was to her.

She sat in the chair inside his office and took out her journal, jotting down the following:

“Previously watching him from his job, he got a haircut exactly twenty minutes before he came to work at 7:50AM. He told the barber just to cut a trim of his hair. While paying attention to watching the barber cut his hair, he accidentally cut of a lock and it landed right next to Tino's left foot. Neither of them noticed the lock falling on the ground. Once he was done with his haircut, the barber didn't care to pick up his remaining hair so I went inside the barber's shop and quickly picked it up myself. I held it in my hands until I was capable of getting a zip-lock bag to put it in.

I then followed him to his part time job as a Children’s psychiatrist. Oh! I’ve also learned he has a rare blood type of O-. One of the patients of the hospital he works at also has the same blood type as him, so he needed to donate some of his blood. They donated too much, so now I now have a pouch of his blood. It's still warm. How... delightful.”

She takes the camera out and snaps another photo. Waits for the film, dries it out. She puts it away and looked up at Tino. He’s still resting. She stood up from the chair and caressed his back. Something on his desk made her intrigued. It was his address. She quietly picked it up and left his office. She left the Hospital unnoticed afterwards.

…to their house…

May 23, 2003
11:06PM; Manhattan Island Suburban Neighborhoods

Crunch. Crunch. Crunch. The noise she makes while taking steps woke up the guard dog of the neighborhood. She quietly ignored the barking pest and continued her search for his house. She went through the hidden woods behind another neighborhood and reached some houses that have similar numbers close to his. 1634, 1635, 1636…

1637. House 1637, on Manhattan Island Suburban Neighborhoods. This is his house.

It’s nice he only has a one story house, or it would be a pain getting to his room if he lived on a two story house. She crept around the building and found what seemed to look like his bedroom. 12:45 AM, and lurking around his house. Wouldn’t you call that… stalking?

Of course not.

She looked into the windows of his room. The room was dark blue and you could barely make out what was in it since it was dark. But you can see parts of his desk and a small full bed. Laying in it was Tino. His face seemed so peaceful. His arms were tucked under the pillow while his head rests between the edge of his white blanket and his mattress. How adorable. She squats between a rose bush and the wall of his house. She could stay in this position forever. A few minutes and then a few hours went by. Tino shifted in his bed, and tried to reach for something on his nightstand. In a second, the lights went on and he risen up from his bed.

The girl ducked down from the window sill. She took a quick glance into his room. He began to strip himself of his sleepwear until he hit underwear. Her face starts to warm up. Then they start to redden. She holds her cheeks from blushing anymore. He looks around his messy room for a shirt. Her eyes wander back and forth, following his movement. She takes out her journal once again.

“I’ve seen what he buys. I’ve seen where he works. I’ve seen where he sleeps. I know when he goes to the bus stop. I’ve recorded the time. I’ve got the evidence. No more wasting precious minutes. It’s time.”

She takes out her camera and takes one last snapshot of him. Waits for the film and dries it out. She puts the photo into the folder labeled, Tino Väinämöinen. She puts it back into her brown messenger bag. It’s now 6:18AM, and today will be the day it will happen.

…Wherever they are going…

It was the morning of May 24th, 2003. The sun was shining bright, and the people were happy as usual. She sat there at the same exact bench. Watching different kinds of people go in and out of the park. She sees Tino in the far left corner of the park. She keeps a watchful eye on him. By the end of the day, she’ll get what she wants. He turns around. He sees her. He’s coming towards her. The girl stays calm on the outside; pretending not to see him. Of course, she can’t look away.

“It’s you!” Tino cheerfully greeted. “I see you’re here in the same spot we met. What goes on?” He smiles and with glee. She replies like any normal person; explaining how her day was nice and how the weather was too. “Hey, would you like to go and roam around the city for a while?”

She stares at him for a blank second. Her feelings couldn’t say no. “Sure,” she lightly replied.

He grins from ear to ear and takes her hand. “Where do you want to go?”

It’s not time. Not yet. Let this last until midnight. Then she’ll do it.

Sometimes I take them home with me…

“You have a very beautiful house.” Tino stepped into her elegant looking parlor.

“Thank you…” Her soft voice was very charming. Tino had taken her out all day in the heart of New York City. He took her everywhere; from Manhattan to Brooklyn to Queens to Bronx. Both of them had a great time. It was like she enjoyed it too much.

What is this emotion she’s feeling?

Is it love?

And sometimes… just sometimes…

11:55PM. It’s almost time. At midnight, she’ll do what she has to do. “Tino…? Would you like some coffee?”

“Sure! That would be nice!” He took off his jacket and sat down on the parlor chair. She stealthily walks into the kitchen and slowly grabs a mug. Time passes as she makes the coffee. She really likes Tino. He’s in her house. It’s also very clear that Tino likes her too. But it’s not her intention to do this. It’s not her choice. It’s her duty to do it.

She walks back into her parlor. “Here you go Tino…” She hands him the hot mug of coffee. “Oh dear, it looks like I forgot the sugar…”

“Oh that’s okay! Take your time getting it!” Tino sips the coffee mug and enjoys sweet bliss. Though she wasn’t getting the sugar, oh no. “You know… I think I really like you…” Tino says as soon as he hears the door swing open again.

“Is that so?”

“Of course! You’re a very sweet spirit. I like you.”

“Tino… could you do me a favor?”

“Sure! Of course… what is it?”

“To say goodbye.”

“Goodbye. Wait, why-” It was too late for poor Tino to finish his sentence. The clock struck midnight. The girl gripped the kitchen knife from her hand and sunk it into his back. His blood spread all around his shirt and leaked onto the red parlor chair. He was paralyzed.

“It’ll all be over… I promise… once you’re out, we’ll be together forever. You’ll never have to leave me.”

…I let them live.
It may be a reader insert. It may be just a random Hetalia girl character. IDK but yeah. It was originally a reader insert but I kinda want the girl to be a mystery.

I was highly inspired by CutiePieMarzia's video:[link] And she was inspired by this: [link]

This took a month to plan out and write. Ugh. Yup. Hope you enjoy it! Though it's not really my best work. I'm trying to improve! I kinda got lazy at the end. :iconcraiplz:

Writing (c) Me
The girl (which is you) (c) :iconsexyfinlandplz:
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tiny orange kitten
smells of autumn splendor, sweet
Jack o'lantern secrets.
Because the kitten's name is Jack. Captain Jack, actually. Captain Jack Harkness. :iconjackharknessplz: I love him to bits. :meow: And he's even Halloween-colored. :pumpkin:
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   Ludwig sat in his room and sighed, hugging his knees to his chest. Why did he feel so weird when Feliciano hugged him that day? It was no different than the other days. His adoptive parents didn't seem to notice, Ivan was petting Gilbert's hair, asking for more children, which earned a blush and punch in the arm. Ludwig didn't call them 'dad' and 'dad', or 'daddy' and 'dad', or 'papa' and 'dad' etc, but 'dad and mom', much to Gilbert's dismay. Mainly because Gilbert was much like a mother, always there when needed while Ivan usually worked. Ludwig was homeschooled until his thirteenth birthday, where he begged to go to school so he could see his friends more. Gilbert agreed. Ludwig sighed and hugged his knees to his chest tighter. He couldn't, right? So many people at his school said mean things about his parents. Mainly his mother, they were too scared of his father.
   Once his father had to talk to one of Ludwig's former-friends, because they insulted the entire family. Ivan's personality seemed to darken and change when the parents' only reply was:'homosexuality is wrong'. Ludwig now understood why his mother could be jumpy at times.

   Ludwig yelped in surprise when Gilbert put his wet hand(possibly from washing dishes, which usually caused arguments.) on the blonde's shoulder. "Is something wrong, West?" Ludwig looked down, embarrassed from the nickname and what he was about to say.
   "I...think I'm gay."

So, this is based off an RP we(~RikusShadow and I) have going on, Germany was all:"WAAAAH I DUN WANNA BE GAYYYY BAW ;A;" and Prussia and Russia were comforting him. SO, ~RikusShadow decided to say something akin to:"Germany = Kid, Russia = Dad, Prussia = Mom. OH GOD. :XD:". And I said, "THAT would be one HELL of an AU fanfiction." To which she said something which led me to saying:"I'd so do that!", and she said:"If you do it, I'll make fanart.", and I said:"I'm doing it now! I LOVE YOUR ART!"
So, this was born from the above.
Yes, there will be more! :la:

I do not own Hetalia Axis Powers.
Ludwig Weilschmidt/Beilschmidt(Germany), Ivan Braginski(Russia), Gilbert Weilschmidt/Beilschmidt(Prussia), Feliciano Vargas(North Italy/Veneziano) and Hetalia Axis Powers (c): HH.
Do not steal.
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Old Dog waits,
Her head on her paws,
The teeth are long gone,
From her gummy old jaws.

Her legs don't quite work,
She can no longer play,
She'd go fetch the ball,
She liked it that way.

When the car rolls up
She rolls to her feet,
She limps to her owner,
Her tongue set to greet.

She'd love to jump up
And lick his old face,
But he walks down the pathway
And Old Dog can't keep pace.

He's brought something home,
Something loud and quick,
Something furry and yappy,
And it's chasing a stick.

Old Dog runs after,
To fetch the small twig,
But she falls on her rump,
In a sideways jig.

She's tired and stiff,
Her legs are quite sore,
The owner gives her a pat,
But she still wants more.

Old Dog gets up,
She's back on her feet,
Up to her owner,
Walking in a ragged beat.

He picks her up
She's sat in the car,
She's been here before,
But the memory seems far.

He ties up the puppy,
Such a yappy young chap,
Then he gets in the car
And gives Old Dog a pat.

They drive for a while,
Old Dog and friend,
Down an old road,
Right to the end.

He turns to Old Dog,
An old grin on his face,
He lifts her out of the car,
And puts her back in her place.

Old Dog is beside him,
She's happy again,
She's in her position,
Beside her best friend.

With great adoration
She looks at his grace,
As he walks up the path,
With a slow steady pace.

A new man is here,
He puts his hands round her waist,
She's lifted high upwards,
And set in a space.

She lies on the table,
She happy, content,
But she's tired as well,
From the distance she went.

Her owner is crying,
Of that she is sure,
And she doesn't like it,
Doesn't want any more.

She gets up again,
And licks his old face,
And he grins at her lightly,
And her heart gains a pace.

He's sad but he's happy,
This gentle old grace,
As he looks at Old Dog,
With her own special place.

He gives her a pat,
And a timid "Good girl."
As she rests her old head,
Shuts her eyes to the world.

Now something quite prickly,
Her head feels quite thick,
She lays down her head,
And learns a new trick.
Sorry if it's a little hard to understand, but the new trick Old Dog learns is to Play Dead.

I own an old dog, Katie's her name, she's got something wrong with her spinal chord and her back legs don't work. She can't walk properly and gets tired so quickly. We've gotten two new puppies since Brock died, to keep her company, but she just can't keep up. But she tries, she does her best, she'll be gone soon, we'll have to put her to rest.

At least she's better than she used to be, she used to be in pain. But now she's just a timid old dog that can't play as much as she used to. Just lies down and wags her tail for a scratch on the belly.
I'll be sad to see her go, but I'll take consolation that her spirit is always going to be walking beside me, she'll be able to walk again, I know that'll make her happy.
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I'm Soaring Now

This is a different level of fear
It's wounding my truth and morality

It's strong enough to bring me here
On the edge of life- peering over to serenity

It's not impossible to grasp
But it's typical to assume

The last breath is the fact
That after death- peace will follow soon
Countless flashing memories
Crossover swiftly
Ready to be set free
From this skin of...treachery


My scars peel off
Erased from my sight
The remains become soft
So this is what...innocence feels like


Destiny is somehow connected
Fate deems to be natural
The circle of the two is perfected
The beginning to the end is...peaceful

I offer and accept my own form of mercy
Before I miss out on forgiving the vulnerable side of me

Splitting and fusing fragments of calming memories
I would like to believe my life was somehow worthy

My tears have aligned with my eyes in this time-
To finally leave all that I loved...behind

And when I finally let it all go...
I won't feel the pain...anymore
It all drizzles down to the very last moments
It's peaceful...knowing there's always an ending
Stock image - by :iconjusticestock:
This poem is written for my project, titled-
"Broken Wings Unbound: I'm Falling Down / I'm Soaring Now"

This is the last poem for the book, to read the first poem, which is the opposite of this one,
check it out here --->
I'm Falling Down
I'm Falling Down

Pain just seemed to pass me by
Swift as tsunami waves touching the sky

Reality was nothing but a mirror
Melting away like frozen water on fading fire

I closed my sorrowful eyes
As if it was going to be the last time

And sparked images of my past that I don't want to remember
I was deceived every time I was told that it was going to get better
Flashes of agony
Infected my mind
And stinging anxiety
Shoots up my spine


While despair wraps around my heart
I want to let it all go
This life was just too hard
I don't want it anymore


There was no way out of this
I so

Check out my galleries below if you want to read more.
Watch me if you think that you might like my future work.
:iconimmortalizedlies: :iconominoushero: :iconrainbowizedsky: :iconhollowfiedlife:
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I wish there was a reason to stay,
And to explain the many reasons for my ways.
I wish it was possible to ask for forgiveness,
Without the fear of putting you in sadness.

I wish the fairy tales in my head were real,
So that your true feelings would be revealed.
I wish if I were to walk away,
You would pull me right back in a sway.

Still these thoughts are not meant to be told,
For the pain I bare is to be sealed.
If my existence cause you misery,
Then I’ll leave in merry.

I only wanted to see you smile,
And hope that you would stay a while.
I had only hoped that you would love me too,
So I would not feel like a fool.

Still my existence cause you misery,
So I’m leaving in a hurry.
There is no reason to explain,
No reason to explain…..

I fear you won’t understand,
I fear of being rejected for who I am.
It’s ok for me to feel this way.
It’s ok to walk away
It’s ok to give you no reason to stay.

I only wanted you to be happy.

---------:bulletblue:FACEBOOK:bulletblue:TUMBLR:bulletblue:COMMISSIONS:bulletblue:FAQ:bulletblue:ETSY SHOP:bulletblue:---------
Listening: [link]

Art and poem © by =Chukairi
You are not authorized to use this work in any way, shape or form! (art trace included.)
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Chapter 3

3. If the cause of death is written within the next 40 seconds of writing the person's name, it will happen.

    It’s been a couple of days since your first kill, and not one ounce of guilt or pity ran through your veins. Criminals did wrong upon the world and deserved to be demolished and ridden from the face of the earth. As taught, you just wrote names no specifics. Light instructed you how to thoroughly hide the death note so no one could find or stumble upon it. You didn't mind killing anymore and simply continued life as you normally would. You, as the 'Next KIRA' exploded across the media and many countries already gave in, America and Japan were not one of those countries.

    Another unfortunate battle with the SPK and the Japanese task force were unavoidable, Light knew this. The SPK or Special Provisions for Kira began and had formed a little bit after L's death; L the great detective had fallen. There was no doubt in his mind that Near would once again investigate. This certain albino by the name of Near took great distaste in the fact that another mass murderer was on the loose. If Near had emotion there is a 95% chance he'd be pissed.

    "Giovanni...” Near said in his normal monotone voice, as he stared absent mindedly at the television currently had news reports constantly playing. Each station had something different to say, whether riots were taking place, economic downturns, explosions, declarations of possible wars to come, but all had one similar fact... A mass amount of criminals were perishing. Near twirled a strand of his wavy white hair and glanced toward the man with her grey eyes. Giovanni nodded in response to the unasked question. "We still have the notebook Near, and that shinigami said there was no other shinigami with interest in this world," Giovanni stated with a small sigh. Near looked up showing no emotion. Near twirled a strand of hair around a finger on his right hand and in his left hand he rolled a dice around in his palm.  "I won't let Kira off easily; I will find kira... and put an end to this... for good. Yagami Light may have gotten away from human punishment due to his death and didn't have to suffer for his crimes... this Kira will". He tossed the dice in his hand and it lightly tapped a domino which caused down a chain reaction. The dominos formed the letter 'I'.

    "Find the previous members of the SPK and inform them of the current circumstances immediately. They are needed to win the game... also, request help from... I. The real game has just begun."


    The next day after returning home from classes, you finally decided to ask the question that had been itching at you for a while. "Yagami, what are you and what is with your eyes?" you asked suddenly out of the blue. The shinigami stopped pacing about the room and smirked devilishly, he hadn't decided to take the direct approach like Ryuk had. A shinigami like chuckle escaped Lights lips after he answered, "I am a Shinigami, a death god some say. My eyes allow for me to see everyone's names and the day they will die, even yours __. We could make this deal, you and I... you can get eyes like mine so that you can see names and dates also, these can be yours in return for halving your lifespan," he said simply and walked over to you. Now you jumped up from your chair and backed away with a nervous smile until your back it one of the walls in your apartment. "You fear me yet support me, how pathetically wonderful," Light said and flipped his brown hair out of his face as he cornered you. He placed his hands on either side of your face and leaned close so that you could feel his breath on your face; to your surprise it didn't reek of death. "Do we have a deal ___?" he asked, studying your bright red face.

    Your ___ colored eyes met his red and yellow eyes. "Half your life for shinigami eyes and a kiss?" he whispered teasingly, making his voice a bit husky as he did so- but a shinigami couldn't give their voice many human characteristics so this was about as deep as he could go, even if he was a special case. Your heart was going to burst if it pumped any faster, half scared and half wanting that kiss from Light. "How much longer do I have to live?" you asked with your voice a little wavery. Light smiled and answered, "Its not for me to say, it depends on the choices you make.” He leaned in closer so you prepared yourself. As if on instinct, you slanted your face sideways a little, and your lips met his... gloriously.

    All of a sudden the television in your room turned white with a gothic style font L on the screen. This caused prince charming, your Shinigami, to break the kiss and walk over to the television. A synthetic voice on the monitor made you jump and you quickly gathered your wits.  "I am L,” the voice said, the shinigami recognized it right away. Light chuckled and sarcastically said, "Oh believe me we know who you are.”  Light had specifically told you that 'L' would be your enemy; he also told you he knew his name. This had worried you a bit because of how great a detective and foe he would be, but the fact that Light knew his name. He didn't give it to you though because it wouldn't work; you don't know what he looks like. Light had also said that he wanted to wait till things got 'fun'.  "As you know I and the members of the SPK, or Special Provisions for Kira are currently tracking you down as i speak. There is a 60% chance you are here in the United States of America, the other 40% we guess Japan, so you’re either here or there. I do love playing games of hide and seek,” the voice continued, ignoring Light’s response. Well actually, you had no microphone to reply back to L so he couldn’t hear either of you anyway.  

     Light watched the unmoving screen closely with arms crossed. You were mortified. How does this guy just know where you live in the first place? You lived in America, but you had connections to Japan do by family. The 'Misora' family, the famous Naomi Misora was engaged to your cousin Raye Penbar. He was killed by KIRA, he should have never dug himself in a hole he couldn't get out of, and besides, your mother never really liked her elder sister. So, you never really knew the Penbars'. You had been thinking so long you missed parts of L's speech. "KIRA, you will perish at my feet, just like Yagami Light, trust me... Justice will prevail and I will not lose. This time Kira will be punished and I will help me assure this ending,” the synthetic voice concluded. The T.V went back to the news, Light had his fist clenched. "Who the hell.. is I?" the shinigami hissed under his breath, completely forgetting about the deal.


    Intelligence or I was a fifteen and one month years old. He sat in his headquarters in London, England. It had been quite a while since he had left Wammy house to follow in a certain someone’s footsteps. He was known to solve many crimes using numbers and never failed to crack a case- he held a record that he had no intentions of letting a case beat him... especially the ‘Next Kira’ case.

    He was much like Near, except he had deep black hair and piercing light blue eyes that stared at the computer monitor, never lifting. Having lived in England almost half his life an accent developed which only made his personality funnier and even harder to take seriously.  He had the same shaggy hair and look in his eyes. "The Irony...” he sighed staring at the computer screen. He had been just wrapping up the left behind material of the KIRA case. "Bloody hell,” he cursed, standing up from the chair. He walked away humming the 'Looney Tunes' theme song.  He loved cartoons, cartoons of all kinds, but his favorite is the Looney tunes. The Cooky Adventures of Bugs Bunny, and his friends. This lone reason is why people can't take him seriously, he acts just like a normal child... what's so special?

    The fact is that in math he is well over achieved. He could easily add the population of London, without even moving an inch. It would be an easy multiplier. Although his personality would make other people believe he was unworthy, his calculations and excellent deduction skills made up for it.  "Bernard... my videos please?" I requested as he scratched the back of his head.  The old man stood, "As you wish.” I glanced up at his computer screen as the rerun episode of Bugs Bunny disappeared and was replaced by a white screen with a gothic letter L on the screen. A pout crossed I’s face but he shoved some of his black hair out of his face and pulled on his head set. “What’s up Doc?” I quoted and rocked back and forth a bit in his chair. When a response didn’t come right away, I twirled his computer chair around in a circle till he was facing the screen once again. “Did you place the message up across all televisions in the United States and Japan?” I asked into his microphone, the microphone produced an altered, synthetic voice. Near replied with an ‘affirmative’ and I could picture the albino boy curling a strand of his hair.

    Intelligence tugged at a strand of his own black hair. “This means war. The message should make the Next Kira nervous and think we are a lot closer to finding them than we really are. I am 90% sure the Next Kira is in the United States. The current population is around...” I took a moment to calculate “315, 717, 650. We need to be able to narrow down the area and people,” I responded. Intelligence tapped his computer screen impatiently. "To do that we would need to know the exact city,” Near whispered to himself. "First, Near, we need to figure out where the first person lived whom was killed. If the Next Kira was using it for the first time, they might have started within their own country and possibly state. Then, we will do a broadcast within that state or time zone... and work from there,” Intelligence suggested strategically.  I twirled again while listening to silence on the other end of the call.  "Okay, I'll ttyl, I got Looney Tunes to watch, I have a life,” He added and disconnected the conversation with Near. "Poor little Nimrod N,” he said with a sigh.

    "There he goes digging himself in a hole he can’t get out of.”


    Near pulled off his headset and studied his large stack of tarot cards that he had used to build a card house. Carefully the albino reached forward and pulled card out of the bottom, this caused all the cards to fall and scatter about the floor. With a blank face Near twirled his white hair around his finger and glanced towards Giovanni. The man already had what he needed. Gently Near took the paperwork and newspaper clippings from his trusted worker and spread the papers out in front of him on top of his cards. “Has Steven discovered anything? Or Halle?” Near asked and glanced up with grey eyes to see the man shake his head. He returned to looking at the papers and picked up a clipping. “Very well, please fetch me my robots,” Near said as a way of dismissing the man.

    ‘James Mcclurkin died mysteriously of a heart attack’ read the headline. Near continued to skim through the article, which included much information. The man had no previous illnesses or heart problems. It also included a paragraph about a wife and stepchild. “Hmm, ___ ___? We must look into this girl a little bit more.”
After Light Yagami was discovered to be KIRA, he ran from the Japanese Police after being shot several times. Near didn't bother to let his team take chase but a few of the Japanese Police refused to listen to Near and went after Light. After Light's death, he became a Shinigami and seeked to continue his work even after death. In order to do this, Yagami drops his own notebook. Now that you have found the note book, your fate and Light's have been intertwined and he seeks your assistance. Another duel shall begin.

Okay so this is a collab between me and :icons0metr0llaradia: and we hope you enjoy. Now that Near has taken L's place, he has his own prodigy... I and each Wammy child has their quirks, Intelligence has an obssession with cartoons and often quotes them.

Ch 1-
Ch 2-
Ch 3- you are here
Ch 4-
Ch 5 -
Ch 6 -
Ch 7 - Coming soon

We don't own Death Note or the Death note Characters, the preview image also isn't ours and was found on google.
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I like you.

I can't be more pleased when you look at us, and tell us that in each of us,
in our veins that we want to cut open,
in our bones that we have broken,
in the wounds that we have mended,
and that in our feet that are two sizes too big,
that we all have a little bit of stardust in us.

It reminds me, that I can in fact love someone for who they are, all their words, and all of ones grins and laughs, and French.

How you always say, there is a little bit of worm in you, and look at that in your brain, what used to be a fly is floating in there. You say that with enthusiasm, like there was something good in that.

In all of us.

And you always talk about your children in that reminiscing way, like they have died.

I hope you find what you are looking for in this place, because I believe you deserve it.

You are everything I would like in a friend, and I don’t understand why she would do that to you.

But then again, it’s nice to break a perfect person’s heart, ain't it?


When I first saw you I liked you. All chubby and fresh faced, you remembered my name first and you tell me, you smile a lot, I like that.

I think I stopped smiling after that.
I don’t want to be the one who smiles so much and cries inside. I was excited at all that could be.
Possibilities, boys, and happiness, if I dare say.

You say all these things and I don’t understand, I don’t, I don’t but you just would tell me.

All these things you claim you do, you talk and talk, but fuck.

You certainly don’t speak.

It’s hard to love you because honestly, you took away one of the few things I ever loved about myself, even if it wasn't lovable enough for everyone else.


Your lame jokes and your short skirts get me thinking about you.

You talk in math equations and graphs and I don’t mind it.

Your constant eye on me makes me feel safe. It makes me feel like maybe I can talk in algebra one day. What is algebra anyway? Bunch of letters assigned to number that mix the un-mixable. Mix the hated with the loved, mix the bitter and the sweet.

You say the most outrages things and even if I was born to alphabet speaking parents, I can’t help but adore your equations.
I wish I could use mathematical equations to solve you and figure you out, fill in the spaces with those exhausting alphabets.


I am pleased with this, A very honest piece about the three new people in my life right now. My teachers.
I have started college, and well, this is about my teachers, the three of them and all their ways. The first one teaches biology, second English, and third, some weird math subject. I love the first one, and even writing about him almost brought me to tears. And I love him as a teacher. nothing else.
:O_o::jarkinajar: haha
Critiques please?

Written for them:<[link]>


- Was the piece easy to follow?
- What was your first impression?
- What do you think about it. Like really think about the piece.
- How was the styling of the piece? Did you like it? Did you not? why?
- Are there any teachers you can relate this piece to in your life?
- Any general improvement that I need?
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I want to deteriorate into the ocean and feel the waves
Break over my spine
Because I’ve learnt through trial and error
That holding my breath only makes my heart beat faster

And plain white pills do nothing to soothe
The anxiety sewn deep within my bones
The bitter aftertaste still lingers in the back of my throat
much like the feeling
of her breath in my lungs
and turned them into rubble, she said they were defective.
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winter gave
birth to a baby,
cold and still
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