#it’s too cold to have a breakdown by the river now so i have lowered myself to the public restrooms <3 mwah

[pallases]

another 30% bc he insists that we focus hard on content that doesn’t appear at all and only gives three fucking problems that instead cover completely unrelated topics and doesn’t bother with partial credit and when you go to him for help outside of exams he tells you you just need to read the book properly 😍 i love it here SO much

[tobiramaika]

Edo Tensei

I don't even know why am I doing this. Maybe to let my sorrow out? Well, either way, enjoy.

Isn't it nice? Peace can be achived, even if temporarily.

You can make civilians and shinobi live together peacefully, regardless of clans.

Tobirama was always skeptical about that, but his big brother showed him that it's not impossible.

Still... why is he smiling? Tobirama can't help but feel hatred towards him and his so called friend as he looks down on them from the tree he is sitting on.

They are laughing, training together, even being affectionate... what kind of brother is that?

Hashirama doesn't care to notice as Tobirama stares at him, rather just drowns in self pity as he had gotten a harsh comment from Madara.

Maybe, perhaps, that will never go away. That little habit of his.

Watching that unfold... all he can think about is how foolish it is.

Tobirama never had any hate in his heart towards Hashirama, but it hurts.

It hurts that he has to walk alone in a flower shop, because he is the only one who remembers.

He shook those thoughts out of his head though, as he already took out his wallet. He greeted a smile to the man wrapping up some roses,

" Good morning Inoae "

The man greeted back, happy to see a regular.

" Good morning, Lord Tobirama. "

He is not going to lie, being called that makes him feel a little icky, he isn't Hokage yet, or is it certain that he will ever be. However, formality is kept.

It's not like it will matter in a few years, right?

He just went on to choose flowers.

Four purple hyacinths for the first bouquet.

Two pink tulips and two delphiniums for the second one.

Two white tulips and two gladiolus for the third one.

They were all so beautiful, yet they only caused silence. He wished he could, but Inoae couldn't look the man infront of him in the eyes. He knows all too well what does this mean.

Tobirama was used to it. Usually he is greeted with silence upon entering a room.

And that silence followed him everywhere.

Well... not the cemetery. Where his brothers were.

He walked his way in, getting more and more nervous as his heart went quicker upon approaching the huge rock where his brothers are laid.

Dare he call it a grave.

Although, he was quite scared to face them just yet. So he decided to go to the left side of it, paying his respect to someone else's brother,

" Izuna, are you listening? I am sorry.. no, I just ask for your forgiveness. I hope you are watching over your brother, he seems to be doing well. "

He had placed the first bouquet of flowers down the cold shiny rock. He didn't know if the feeling in his chest is emptiness, or rather guilt.

It could be both.

Now came the hard part, going to the right side of the rock.

He can't call it a grave, he refuses to accept it.

He had placed the beautiful flowers down, bowing as he spoke.

" Itama... Kawarama... Please forgive big brother, he didn't come to your anniversaries. Even if he didn't come, I hope I am enough. Please don't hate him for this. Are you doing alright.. ? I wish I could hug you both for one last time, " tears streamed down his face as he grabbed his chest, gasping for air " I am sorry you could never make it to 10. I am so so sorry.... this isn't how it was supposed to turn out like... it really wasn't.... "

It was dawn when Tobirama caught his two younger siblings painting their face in the reflection of the river by their house.

He had approached the two giggly smaller ones as he noticed that they have their mothers make up paint in their hand.

It was cute, how excited they were over a few crushed up wet roses..

" Say, what are you doing? "

Itama looked at him, holding a brush for him to take,

" We are wearing warrior make up! Try it too! "

And so he did. He squat down alongside them, copying the motions they did,

" So tell me... Why are they dots? "

Kawarama smiled, clapping his hands together, happy to answer,

" It will bloom like a flower! It's just dots now... But when we will reach 10, it will all be lines, mimicking the shape of lowers! "

Itama nodded, as he adjusted the hand of his older brother,

" Yeah! Hashirama already celebrated his 10th birthday! So it's between us three now! "

Tobirama hummed, murmuring a little 'I see' as he painted his face. That was, to this day his favourite memory with his brothers.

And it keeps repeating over and over, he can't stop thinking about it. It pains him, if not everday, every other day.

Even as he looks through their family album and seems their cut off hair, from the first time they each got a hair cut.

The circles under his eyes barely tell a story compared to how swollen it has became. He had cried all day, his heart crushing.

He stroked over the plastic covering of the hair, sighing to himself in the darkness of his own room, being surrounded by nothing but cold..

... and a bunch of research papers.

" I wish I could bring you two back just by this... I miss you so much "

One thing is for sure, ghosts exist.

Tobirama had found out that a long time ago, by experience.

Turns out, hating your father and trying to please your brother's wishes only results in your dead father's spirit yelling at you whenever you manage to stay up after 5am.

Tobirama sniffed and wiped off his under eyes.

It's time to be stronger, it sucks to drown in self pity, day by day everyday.

And so that was the start of it all. The start of Edo Tensei.

Both the sun and moon had fallen down multiple times while Tobirama spent weeks in his office, only leaving for small wash ups.

He was desperate, he had a goal in mind and he for sure going to achive it.

Sleep was something he... well forgot to do, but came to him naturally. Each time, he had envisioned all the failed attempts that had happened.

It's been months, he is used to it. Used to all the dry tears on his cheek after a few minutes nap, as he still hears the painful scream of his little brothers. He wants to get it right. He so does.

Just what is he missing? What?

He has calculated everything imaginable. So why.. why don't they look human?

Those questions rang louder and louder in his head as he made an attempt to revive his brothers in their - now - family home.

Well, the little hill next to their garden tree.

Itama and Kawarama were sad. They couldn't be as grown up and as human as their big brothers.

They tried to comfort their older brother too.

He was on his knees, punching the ground with his fists as tears stormed down his face.

" Why, why, why? ", he asked, over and over.

Not to mistake him for an idiot though, once he felt two little hands stroke his back, he had wrapped his arms around what he knows as his little brothers.

" It's okay "

" Thank you for trying "

Those small little voices trying to comfort him.. their gentleness... It should be the other way around. It really should.

But why is he like this? It's hard to admit, but Tobirama is ashamed. It should be the other way around.

The ground broke, and suddenly there was water everywhere but around the three of them.

It was almost destructive, flooding everything around them, breaking of their tree, turning into a water tornado.

It took a mental breakdown for Hashirama to notice what's wrong, as he ran there yelling out

" Tobirama! "

That was the last thing in Tobirama's memory before his coma.

Hashirama must have solved it, he guesses. After all, not only their house is new, but their list of forbidden jutsus are too.

[the-river-person]

End of Days

It was growing colder. Snowdin was unlivable now, the weather was no longer a snowstorm, but simply frozen and dark. There were parts of Waterfall that still had water, but it was all still, the falls no longer cascaded from above, having dried up or frozen solid in ice. Closer the chill crept. It had long since taken Home and New Home, Waterfall and the Depths below the Lower City on the Cliffs, and the Snowdin Caverns had been the very first place to fall. Hotland alone was still warm. But the magma had cooled and solidified on the surface of their burning lakes, leaving only what lay deep beneath. It was there the Monsters huddled. The Fire-Monsters at their center, those most susceptible to the cold. The darkness was oppressive, and only the light of these monsters, and their tiny heat, was keeping everything at bay. Keeping the darkness from falling. They’d searched for Sans and for Gaster, but there was no sign of them, they were gone. They searched every journal and book and file they could find in hopes of finding anything that could call the Ship back or open another Rift to the Void, but they found nothing that would help them. A day went by, exactly as it always had. And then another. And another after that. But the days were numbered. Three weeks before a Reset. And the first had been nearly over. Sixteen days. Sixteen days was all they had left. Fifteen days. Fourteen. Thirteen. Twelve. Asgore spoke to the crowd outside the castle in New Home, telling them of the strange pall of darkness that always fell if they waited too long after the three weeks to Reset. No stars, no water, not even the garbage that fell endlessly from the falls, piling up into the Dump. It all just... stopped. And from what he could tell, the outside was cold. If one stood near the barrier, just as the time limit ran out on Tripplenight, when everyone was celebrating and holding feasts and parties, one could see glittering frost coating the rock outside, lit only by the barrier’s light. Eleven days. Toriel suggested a night to spend reading and playing and telling jokes. Everyone came. But they couldn’t bring themselves to tell any jokes, or read anything, or play. The Queen tried to read some old Monster Tales to them, but she could hardly get through the story where the Destined Heroes of Light fall into a Kingdom of Darkness and meet a lonely Prince of the Dark. And when she reached the part where the Hero tore out his very soul in despair and rage, she broke off, unable to continue. Ten Days. Nine days. Eight Days. The Core was unfixable. Alphys had everything she could ask for, the willing help of any Monster she could possibly turn to. But the explosion that resulted from its meltdown had been so hot that it melted much of the machinery and blasted other sections to fragments of metal. She was unable even to figure out why it had reacted so violently in the first place. It had been maintained until the last moment, when the engineers had headed out to evacuate. It should have been fine. What did it matter? Should have been, would have been, could have been. They couldn’t fix it, so how it got destroyed didn’t matter. Seven Days. Six Days. Five Days. Tempers running high, Undyne destroyed her own house, leaving it flaming and stuck with spears. She said she couldn’t stand being alone there. She and Alphys have taken to wandering Waterfall, speaking in low tones and sharing kisses in the soft blue light of the waters and echo flowers. Four Days. Snowdrake, Lesser Dog, and Heats Flamesman had a breakdown. Asgore found them at the Barrier in New Home, beating on the magical wall with their firsts, bodies, wings, and claws. They screamed and screamed, calling out for someone to hear them. For someone to come. They didn’t want to go with Asgore, didn’t want to go. They wanted to someone to come. Anyone. Just let them out. But nobody came. Three days. Gerson had woken a little during the evacuations, sensing that something had changed. In the terror of the moment he’d woken all the way. Now he was sinking back into despair, becoming harder and harder to speak to, to wake, to communicate with at all. Two days. Monsters want to know what will happen to them. Want to know if help is coming. If someone is coming. If they can call someone to come save them. The ship, Sans, Gaster, anyone. No one can answer their questions. Asgore and Toriel look grim, and Alphys is pale. Never had any seen Undyne cry, tears running silently down her face, her expression never wavering, her stoic stance as strong as ever. Only Gerson could really remember the last time he’d seen tears from her, and that had been when she was very small. One day. Dread. The waiting is the worst thing. Knowing you cannot prevent what is coming, and you are afraid. Mettaton had tried desperately to bring some last bit of laughter to them, but the robotic body is running out of power, and without being able to charge, since the Core was the source of the Underground’s power, they had to shut down to preserve power. Only the sad ghost was left behind, and it seemed that all the others had gone, managing to get aboard the ship. The stars are gone. The light is gone. The warmth is gone. And only the darkness remains. The darkness and the cold. Still they pushed on, refusing to give in so easily, though many were close to Falling Down. Water was stored from the river until it froze over, there was no sign of the River Person or their ferry, the Monster must have escaped into the Ship on time, though nobody could recall having seen them waiting in line, or ever having left their ferry for that matter. Days went by, at least they were almost certain it was days and not weeks or hours. The only change was that the darkness got deeper and deeper, and the cold grew and spread. When Waterfall froze over completely the light from the Echo Flowers faded, their last whispers nearly one with the silence, unheard by any living being. “But nobody came.” ... ... ... It was the End. They could hardly keep the Fire-Monsters alive, burning themselves as they pressed closer and closer together around them, staying warm and keeping in the warmth as much as they could. Any food they had left had run out, monster food, human food, it was all gone. Even the water in their storage containers was in danger of freezing over. The Underground was silent. Waiting. “It was...” said Asgore, hesitating, his voice quiet and his expression unbearably sad. “It was so nice knowing all of you. I’m sorry I couldn’t save you from this fate. I failed.” Toriel embraced him, and the sight stirred what little of the light and love that was still in the hearts of the Monsters who watched them. “No! No! You have not failed!” they cried. “You did everything you could. You did more than we could have ever asked!” Mettaton turned his body back on, to use the remaining few hours of power as best he could, rushing to and fro, finding wood from houses and fences that could be burned. Seeking out forgotten bits of food that could be shared. Each moment was borrowed, but it was another moment. Crystal, Snowdrake’s mother, was snuggled up to her husband. Toriel had asked if she was alright, but the kindly monster had said that her Snowy had made it aboard just in time, pulled up by Papyrus himself in the last few moments. As long as he was safe and away from here, then she could be happy even in the face of death. As the last of their lights flickered out, leaving only the fire-monsters to light the caverns, Crystal turned to the monster she’d lived in the same town as for years and years. “Grillby,” she called out. He looked at her, waiting. The bar owner had never been much for speaking. “Do you remember when we were in year seven of secondary school? When old Maggie insisted that everyone in her classroom had to try out for Choir in order to get a grade?” Grillby nodded, looking slightly annoyed by the memory. Old Maggie hadn’t been the best at teaching, and while everyone had cared for her, they were all very relieved when she had finally retired. “I remember you didn’t want to, because you didn’t want to sing. But she made you and you got upon on the stage and looked so frightened. Nobody had ever even heard you talk before, so we didn’t know if you could sing or not. But when you did...” she paused, a light smile on her face as she remembered. “You sang like the Angel themselves. Couldn’t you sing like that again for us now? As a favor to an old friend?” A smile flickered upon Grillby’s face, hidden deep among the flames, and he nodded indulgently. Silence fell over the monsters as he stood tall and prepared himself. Only a very few had ever heard him speak at all, and when he did it was brief and to the point. What could his voice be like? The first words startled them. In a voice that rose in volume and soared through the dark empty caverns like a light he sang the first words of a familiar song. “Ebbot’s Angel hear our prayer. Are you out there somewhere? Often we have called your name, but then nobody came.” The song itself was a grim one, with all the sorrow of those first years of being trapped Underground woven into the lyrics and tune. But it was a song that everyone knew. From youngest to oldest, each Monster learned it while they were still small. Taught by parents, friends, siblings. It was a song of games played in the snow and on sidewalks, it was a song whistled by old Gerson whenever he was doing spring cleaning in his shop, it was the song Undyne had first learned to play on the piano, it was the song of the music box for the Waterfall puzzle she’d made and left near the old memorial statue, it was the song with a million covers on the Undernet by a thousand aspiring musicians who started out with a song they were most comfortable singing, it was a song that Asgore had hummed while gardening, and Toriel had sung wordlessly while baking. One by one they joined him in singing, each voice adding something indefinable yet vital to their choir. Those Monsters who could not speak simply hummed the tune, and those who could not even do that made noises in accompaniment to the tune as best they could. It was called “The Angel’s Prayer” by many, or “His Theme” by those who remember it being played by a little Music Box at the baby Prince’s first introduction to the Kingdom. He’d been upset to be at the center of so much attention and had even cried before the Captain of the Guard, old Gerson himself, had presented him with a tiny music box he’d made that played the tune. Asriel had been enchanted; cooing and gurgling happy at the music as he tried to reach for the box. But the song’s true name was written down in the oldest books, on nearly faded music sheets, and in the Histories of the Underground. It had been named “Memory”. “On the slopes we fought our war; lost all we’d known before. Humans, Monsters; who to blame? The end is all the same.” A light blossomed in the distance, over the massive stalagmites that made the border between Hotland and Waterfall. A blue light, very faint, but undeniably there. Echo Flowers. The Echo Flowers were singing with them, echoing their song so that it reverberated off the walls of the cavern and back to them again and again. “Long ago we walked with you, ‘Neath stars of many hues. You promised us you would return, and for that day we yearn.” And softly another melody was weaving its way into their song, even as Grillby sang out high, another voice was singing along with him, wordless, and a different song, but it harmonized so easily that they almost didn’t notice its presence at all. When she recognized it for what it was, Toriel stopped singing, her hand flying to her mouth in shock. She knew this tune as well. In fact, she had written it. Years and years ago for her children. For Asriel of course, but also for Chara. “Once Upon a Time”, that was its name, because she had written it as a lullaby to use after telling them a bedtime story. But where was a it coming from? She looked around, trying to see its source in the darkness. “Soon the darkness will draw near, and all light disappear. Is that when you’ll come once more? Just like you did before?” They all stopped singing as another light appeared from the shadows, and though they stopped short, the song continued without them. With their own voices the Echo Flowers continued on, repeating endlessly the grim words with a hopeful melody. And the light before them was from a Door. It stood alone in the dark, tethered to nothing at all. On either side rose stone pillars, and above the door mantel was carved the Deltarune. It looked very much like the doors found the palaces of New Home and Home. Very old gateways and posterns meant for special people to pass through, such as the Royal Family or any humans who fell down from above. Yet unlike the purplish stone of Home or the pale white marble of New Home, this was dark and nearly black. How they could see it at all was a mystery, yet it seemed to give off a strange light. And as the Echo Flowers reached the last verse, the Deltarune above the door began to glow. The song Toriel had heard, it was coming from there, from beyond the door. And everything in her longed to go and see what lay there, on the other side. To see who was waiting for her. Perhaps Frisk, or maybe even Chara. And she could wait for the others too, and for Asriel. Oh, he liked to be called Realis now, didn’t he? A soft sigh seemed to come from the door as it creaked slightly open, a fine white mist piling up from behind it until it spilled over into a drifting wave towards them. Like a breath of fresh air. That’s what it felt like. Sunshine warming you after you’ve been inside all day long, and the splash of streams and song of birds. Perhaps its too late for it here, but somehow, somewhere, it is a beautiful day outside. Birds are singing, flowers are blooming. The perfect weather for a game of catch. ... ... There is a prophecy. The Angel... The One Who Has Seen The Surface... They will return. And the underground will go empty. Only a pale white Void is left behind, like a page in a book that has not yet been written in, or a blank canvas that has not yet been touched with paint, and that too will fade to nothingness. Emptiness remains, no one is left here, except... “YIP!!!” A little white dog barks excitedly. It has several possessions it has considered bringing with it. A sock it liberated recently from its longtime home of the floor, several bone based special attacks that were absolutely delicious, a brick-like cell phone that it used to make wonderful music sometimes, a real live actual bomb, and a salad. But it left its bag at home when the world ended and now it has no choice but to go on without it. Oh well. It barks at the door, which opens slightly, and then rushes through. With a sharp click the door closes. And there is nothing more.

[lunewell]

The Norwegian Mermaid Association - Part 2

Part 1 can be found here

Word Count: 1688 words

Written for MerMay

CW: Attempted Drowning

Can also be read on Wattpad

This is Part 2 of The Norwegian Mermaid Association, and follows Morten, who after his discovery of mermaids, goes to find a mermaid of his own.

For someone who’s entire world view had just been shattered, Morten was coping surprisingly well with it. It had been about a month since the mermaid incident, and only a brief breakdown later he was already alright.

Well, actually, more than alright. This discovery had awakened Mortens childhood love and curiosity of the supernatural, and he often found himself wandering through mossy forests or enthralled in the depths of the sea, wondering what was hidden around him. Some might consider it a problem, the way he seemed to find it harder and harder to focus on the fishing, more and more caught in the ripples of the waves, but Morten found it nothing short of delightful.

His co-workers, however, were not quite as happy as himself. They couldn’t bring themselves to be angry at him, as they had all at one point or another experienced the shock, but they were rather annoyed. Morten couldn’t blame them, not really. He was well aware of how much of a nuisance he was being right now.

Which is why, it came to him as little surprise, when Thomas approached him with an offer; “why don’t you take a little break from work?” he asked one day, leaning on the rail of the small fishing boat next to him, “you’ve been awfully distracted lately, and I think you need some time to think.”

Morten started into the waves, biting his lips. Truth be told, he didn’t want to leave the waves hiding so many secrets, even if he was slowly getting on everyone’s nerves. He twiddled his thumbs, stiff and quite tense. After a while had passed in silence, he heard a sigh next to him. “If it helps,” Thomas began, voice lowered, “you could always take a break at a more… tempting spot. There’s a mermaid hotspot not too far from here, it’s where we met our wives.”

Morten eyes lit up at that. He himself had little interest in the wife part, but even the idea that he would be able to communicate with one or the creatures was more than enticing. Thomas smirked, clearly having picked up on his excitement; “I’ll give you the directions when we get back to shore.”

———————————-

Though he considered himself rather mature, Morten was vibrating like a sugar-high child. The spruce trees around the large lake and river mouth stood tall and proud in the slightly overcast sky, and though he had yet to even see a singular mermaid, he could hear their chattering and laughing flowing through the wind.

Following the voices through soft grass and over sun-bleached rocks, it wasn’t long before he was but branches away from his desired destination. Quite literally, in fact, as the only thing obscuring the creatures was a few branches of an oak tree.

With a deep breath, he reached out to the soft leaves hanging off the solid tree, and pulled it to one side.

It was not the first time Morten saw mermaids, his breath still caught like rock in his throat. Spread all around the shore, there were five mermaids with brightly coloured tails in hues of purple, blue, red, and green that scales sparkled majestically, all having flowing hair and distinctly non-human traits that were so awe-inspiring that he couldn’t stop himself starring. They were joking playfully between themselves, an odd language that sounded reminiscent of an odd dialect of Old Norse.

One of them- the one with night-coloured curls and a spotty, grey, rainbow-hued tail, saw him gaping and gave a playful, but undoubtedly mischievous smile. She turned around to the group speaking rapidly, before hushed voices giggling, before all eyes and tails turned to him.

“Hello,” he whispered a bit unsure of himself, “I was wondering if you would be willing to, uh, tell me a little bit more about your species.”

Another round of looks were exchanged between the girls, before the spotty one looked up with a grin, and answered him not in Old Norse but in perfect Norwegian; “why, of course. Why don’t you come with us into the water, and we can discuss it in full…”

A feeling of fear, a gut deep feeling carved from years of reading about the spirits in the water, coursed through him. And yet, there was something in her voice- safe, trusting, melodic, and lulling like the waves, that made him instantly comply and step towards the high waves.

His feet stumbled closer, while his sub-conscious screamed that something was deeply wrong, and his heart began to race. It wasn’t long before he felt the first drop of water wet the tip of his shoes that he had been too unaware to take off, and it was an even shorter amount of time before he felt it spill over and onto his socks.

The shock of the icy water against his skin snapped him out of the trance just in time to see a series of sharp claws lunging out toward him. He tried to leap away, heart hammering, but ten hands had already grappled and dug deep into his skin, the water around him turning a light red, and submerged him underwater. His nostrils burned from the water as he wiggled desperately, lashing and thrashing hopelessly as the mermaids kept ripping his clothes and skin.

He was going to die here, in this watery grave, shredded by hostile mermaids. He could already see the vision blackening at the edges, and as a sharp claw gripped tightly around his throat, he closed his wet eyes and prayed that his death was not too far away.

Then, like a prayer answered, everything stopped.

For a good second, he’d thought he’d died. He no longer felt cold- in fact he was surprisingly warm, and though he was sore, he was surrounded by an odd sense of tranquility that could only be explained by a fading soul.

“Are you alright?” a soft, mellow voice asked gently, and Morten realised for the first time that the hammering around him was not the grasps of hands but his own, very alive, beating heart. He hesitantly pried his eyes open, fully expecting to stare at death. In all fairness, based on the way his heart leaped at the sight in front of him, it might as well have been death.

A blonde man- no- merman, with warm brown eyes which looked at him in a way that made his heart melt, had pushed him safely on the shore and was now cradling his body. Half the creatures cheat was covered by not scales, but inhuman skin that connected to a tail which he immediately recognised as one of a porpoise harbour.

He was the most beautiful thing Morten had ever seen.

“Sorry about them,” the stranger said, in a tone that sounded completely genuine, “not all of us respect your species, and I promise we’re not all like that.” He trailed off, giving another blinding smile that made Morten’s pulse go on cocaine, before finally reaching out a blue skinned hand; “I’m Kjell, and you my darling human are?”

“M-m- Morten,” he mumbled, mind still caught at darling human, “I uh, yeah. My name is Morten.”

“Morten. That’s a gorgeous name,” Kjell said with a little wink that’s sheer charisma could kill a man. “So, what brings someone like you out here?”

A pang of uncertainty hit him, unsure of whether to tell this merman- the same species that had violently attacked him earlier- the reasons for his visit. However, looking at the violent hues of caramel and chocolate in Kjell's eyes, he could see nothing but genuine curiosity and a playful and friendly twinkle.

Plus, he honestly didn’t know if he had the resilience to deny that face.

“I’m actually here to learn more about your kind and other potential folklore creatures,” Morten explained, “I only found out about the existence of otherworldly creatures- or, uh, people, I suppose, so there’s a lot I want to learn.”

He was rewarded for his honesty, by Kjell lighting up like a Bonfire. “Oh!” he exclaimed, grabbing Morten’s cold hands in his own warm ones, “you should have told me earlier! I love heaving humans about my culture, and I have an entire cave of artefacts and cultural items! It’s under the water- don’t worry, there’s air- and I could take you down if you want.”

Morten, far too occupied by his companions stupid grin and his warm hands, was about to reply the quickest yes of his life, before Kjell interrupted him with a gasp. “I’m sorry,” the merman apologised, letting go of his hands, “I completely forgot that my kind tried to drown you. You probably don’t want to go right back after such a traumatic experience, and certainly not with someone like…” he gestured to his tail, “me.”

A part of him- the one who had gone for the safe choice of a fisherman in a largely fish centered city- wanted to agree with Kjell, and forget this day ever happened. After all, even if he truly admired Kjell, they were both still men, and it was probably safest for the both of them if they just forgot meeting.

However, a much more selfish, and deep part of him already knew what he wanted. Meeting Kjell’s eyes- and with warm cheeks- he gave his answer; “please, take me down there. I trust you.”

That was all Kjell needed, before he dragged them both back into the water. Unlike the mermaids, Kjell was not so much gripping as holding him- tight enough to be led but loose enough as to be easy to escape, the fingers stroking up and down his wrist in a repetitive motion. And as they dived deeper, Kjell leading him along in what was almost a gentle waltz in the water, occasionally shooting a reassuring smile, Morten understood why all the seamen dated mermaids, and got the feeling that he might be seeing Kjell a whole lot more in the future.

[zuffer-weird-girl]

Collage made by @mistysandwichfeather

Now is the right one😅

He was tired. Tired of seing that happening or threats that never once stopped from coming.

Just last week you were almost kidnapped due to your affiliations with the yakusa, or more spefic with him... again.

Was it that difficult to leave someone who had nothing to deal with his business for once on their miserable lifes? Was that impossible to leave his angel alone and come to him instead?

Of course not. Some of the underground gangs and even villains took notice, even his besides his best attempts of acting that he didn't even cared or rather was irritated, that Overhaul had yes a weakness, his partner.

He never once was a man to feel guilty less aside pity of others... but you were a exception. A damn exception for almost everything...

And no matter how he acted or what you went through because of him, his angel always remained on his side.

He was... fed up. Completely exausted at seing that because of HIM and only HIM, your peaceful once live turned into one that seemed like hell on earth.

Heck, even by some heroes and civilians you were mistreated because of your relationship with him and the yakusa... but he never once saw you ashamed or even upset at that...

God how he despised this...

As much as it pained him to jo ends... he felt the need of freing you from this... you suffered so.. so much already.

He had to do this. Or else, his angel was going to suffer a drastic accident someday and it would be all of his fault.

He had to put a end to this.

"A... are you serious?" You asked with wide eyes at those stoic, emotionless golden orbs staring numbly back at you.

"I won't repeat myself." He said nonchalantly before turning to sit on his chair and just burry himself in work.

"K-Kai you can't be serious.." you whispered, while he sitted down and started to look at his papers... pretended to at least.

"I thought you were suppose to know me." He scoffed, ignoring the knot forming on his stomach and the way his chest was feeling so tight...

"That's one of the reasons I'm questioning you right now!" You exclaimed in disbelief "Why out of the blue just decide to break up with me out of no where?"

"... I.." you furrowed your eyebrows at the subtle hesitation at his voice, the broken yet depressed look on his eyes before he inhale and returned to that cold and stoic face of his "I simply noticed that you are nothing but a distraction. With you on the line, my goal is submitted to failure."

Your heart clenched at his monotonous words... yet you somehow knew that wasn't true.

"Liar." You hissed, he arched a eyebrow at you before you looked at him with anger and sadness "How can you say that even after telling me one of your worst memories as a child? After you, the most mysophobic person that I ever met, hold me when I had breakdown and let me cry on your shoulder?"

He cringed mentally, the one thing he despised was seing your beautiful shinning face darkening and appearing those tears in your gorgeous eyes... he wasn't the best at comforting, but he tried at least make you forget the issue...

Dammit. Why did you had to make this.. difficult?

"That was then and this is now (Y/n)." He sighed and grabbed a few papers and hand it to you with a disgusted look "I rented your old appartment back, so you won't have much trouble."

You looked in anger at the papers before slamming then down on the table.

"Are you for real Chisaki?!"

His heart beat stoped at that name bit he still remained his composure. Arching a eyebrow by force at you.

"You CONVINCED ME to moving in! Now you're just kicking me out without even a goddamn reason?!"

"Don't yell." He sighed before standing up form his chair "We're having a civil conversation here." He glared down at you with a insuferable pain on his chest.

He despised himself for that... he didn't want to let go of the only person who taught him true feelings of love and care... but he needed to. After all, if you love someone, you should let them go...?

He really didn't want that...

"Chisaki I'm not stepping out of this room until you tell me a good reason." You sinked your teeth together in a effort of not wanting to cry.

"... I'm done." He growled before getting just a few inches closer "I'm done with you. I simply am tired, try to grow up and understand that."

"You're horrible at lying Chisaki-" you hissed "Especially to me."

"An I now?" He growled threateningly "You're too full of yourself. What? Don't tell me you thought you really meant something." He said coldly while you only glared back at him, trying but failing at keeping the tears into your eyesm

"Did you forgot who I am?" He said with a disgusted look before easing his way back to his normal back position "There is nothing less than a mere debt between us. I only own you that and the apartment."

You let out a sob before making one last try of grabbing or even touch one of his hands.

"Dont lay your filthy fingers on me. Stop with this nonsense." He grabbed your wrist a bit harshly, cringing at the warmth spread through his veins and systems at feeling your skin on his...

He hated himself. Hated.

The look you gave to him, eyes tearing up but yet angry look on your features as you asked him if that's what he thought and he hesitantly nodded his head...

You made a hurtful sound before easing your free hand up, whimpering a bit for not being able to even come any closer for you to do the action.

You still loved him, even after... his attitude towards you. His grip tightened just a bit as he lowered his tone of voice.

"If you're going to hit me then go ahead." He say the words in arrogance and disgust, not even expecting that you would...

"... bastard." You whimpered before slamming your hand on the side of his face, surprinsing you both with the action that he even let go of your wrist in shock.

He didn't looked at you, but slowly returned his head back while his gloved hand traced the area which surely was going to be red in just a few moments... eyes open wide as he stared at nowhere.

It.. stinged. He felt pain before, may times actually... your slap was quite strong but it didn't hurt him that much... what hurted was knowing that he... deserved it, and looking at your at you, rivers of tears running down your cheeks as they fell in the floor.

"Fucking-!" You sobbed before wiping your tears only to come more in your face at feeling the urge to apologize to him for your actions; "..asshole!" You turned on your shoes and almost ran out of his office, slamming the door shut.

He never once saw you that infuriated and so... broken before.

What once he thought it was for the best now seemed to pierce his chest and ribcage even more... that sweet pair of eyes looking at him in hurt and dare he say rage was... heartbreaking.

Although, the more the slap didn't gurted him in the slightest, it made him think straight for once... the only person that loved him deeply, even despite his ups and downs, had just walked out of that door due to some stupid decision of him and the cruel words he let out in hope for you to give up.

God dammit... what had he done?

"(Y/N)!" He shouted after you "Get back here, right now!" He shouted again, hidding his desperation when he catched your figurine only getting faster on your steps... and the drops of tears falling into the ground

"Didn't you told me to leave?! I am leaving!" You shouted, wiping your tears in your sleeve as you made your way quickly to the bedroom.

He tried using his quirk to block your way thorugh the walls but one blink of a eye you had hitted the door and locked it twice at least... clearly not going to do your bags yet since he heard the 'thump' of someone falling into the ground and the sobs that soon came.

"(Y/n) you know I can open this door in one touch. Unlock this instant." He knocked and cringed when another sob ripped your throat...

He was such a fucking asshole... he didn't deserved you the slightest.

"Go away Chisaki! I am getting my things done so dont even need to threat me to death! Just leave me alone!" You cried while burrowing your face in your knees as you hugged your legs closer.

"(Y/n) for God's sake stop being so immature." He said nonchantly but his eyes spoked how he was feeling... or what exactly.

Regret, hurt, sorrow... all of those things.

"(Y/N)." He knocked on the door twice "(Y/N)!" He punched the door, immediately freezing when he heard your whimpers of sad and terror from the other side.

"... angel please..." he tried again, hearing you sobbing and immediately shouting for him to not call you that "(Y/N) I'm sorry dammit... just hear me out..." he touched his forehead with the wall, not getting one signal of yours breaths.

"I didn't meant those. Neither of them."

"What type of fucking joke is this-?"

"Is not, you know me dammit!" He let out a shaky breath after that "Please just let me explain myself at least..."

Your silence was better than nothing at least, even if his chest felt like a billion of burning needle were piercing it, for him to start to talk again.

"I said those things because I was out of control... I just wanted to keep you safe and unharmed." He said quite sadly, lowering his gaze to the ground "(Y/n), you're the reason I'm not completely insane, you make me feel like a man instead of a heartless and soulless demon each day that your clingy ass expend by my side..." he growled the last part before placing his gloved hand at the door "And hell and heavens know how much I crave and... love your presence..."

He rested his forehead on the door, wincing and clenching his jaw at hearing your muffled and quiet sniffles and sobs.

"All of the things I said earlier were lies to convince you to leave... (Y/n) you're special to me for God's sake-!" He almost whimpered before he took his breath back "I can't bare or simply atture even the thought of someone mistreating you or you getting hurt... and I was so blind with worry and uncertain that I ended up doing the thing I was afraid and disgusted the most..."

Your sobs had but not his vent...

"You have any idea that how much you matter..? How much I care for you is even scary... I never once thought that I was capable of having those feelings towards someone else... the minimum was... gratitude..." he turned his gloved hand into a fist, shaking a bit "Seing you get hurt or offended due to your relationship with me just makes me mad at the point of me wanting to overhaul almost everyone on this god for saken planet..." he hissed.

"... the slap you gave me was worthy... but it didn't hurt, what did was facing your sad and angry angelic persona getting out of my office... your negative feelings as a consequence of my stupid actions..."

He took another breath before hitting the slide his forehead on the door.

"I am a fucking idiot. I know an apology won't fix this neither make you feel better after the attrocities I said back there but... but please don't go."

He jumped a bit at the door unlocking and frowned at seing your swollen red eyes looking down at the ground, cheeks wet from the tears you had shed because of him... and him alone.

"You're such a jerk sometimes Chisaki." You muttered angrily while he sighed, getting that while you were mad you weren't going to call him nothing but his disgusting surname.

"I know..." he extended his hand before retreading back when you took one step back after his actions "I was... terrified of losing you due to your affiliations with me and the yakusa that-"

"You thought that kicking me out and breaking up with me out of no where was better?" You grumbled, eyes away from his sorrow gaze.

"I have no idea what passed through my mind on that moment... I-I-" he let out another shaky breath before burring his palm on his face in rage "I'm so sorry..."

You hesitantly uncrossed your arms and looked back at him, frowning at the way your arrogant and stoic man was nothing but a pile of regret and you swore that he was about to tear up...

Sighing, you gently grabbed hsi wrist and lushed out of his face, making the young man look at you with wondering golden eyes.

"You're going to hurt yourself if you dig your nails like that..." you muttered while he scoffed, glaring down at both of you.

"You see..? I don't deserve this, such kindness and care from such a angel like yourself... it was for th-"

"You want me gone?" You asked seriously while he looked for just a bit in your eyes before sighing and returning his gaze at the ground.

"Of course not..."

"And I don't want to leave either. So I'm stuck with you..." you slowly cradle his face gently in your hands to make him look at you properly "Chisaki I knew where I was getting into when I accepted being your partner! I know you care for my security and you are overprotective but... sometimes you take things way too far..."

He felt something disgusting on his chest after he heard your last words, remembering the talk he had with Pops and said the elder sai the exact same thing...

".. I just can't accept you being mistreated, hurt, heck even looked at..." he grabbed your wrist for a moment before easing them down "You are one of the very few reasons I wake up in the morning... if one day you by any chances didn't come back I would be... devasted."

"..don't push me away like that ever again Kai. Then I promise that no matter what I will always come back to your arms..."

He scoffed before carresing your palm with one thumb of his.

"It doesn't depend only on you..."

You scoffed before letting go of his hand, not letting him have any time to protest before you hugged him tightly as you burried your face on his toned chest... noticing how his breath caught on his throat.

"If I don't want to leave neither you are getting me out." You nuzzled a bit on him, noticing how his muscles had lessen up a bit "It doesn't depend fully on me but is not right to send away in fear of something that might or might not happen..."

You smiled a bit ag feeling his arms hesitantly hug you back to his chest while he let out a shaky sigh and rested his head on yours.

"... I will make it up for you. Anything for you to forgive me..." he seprated a bit to look you dead in the eyes "Anything you wish for, I'm getting it. Doesn't matter the price. Just tell me something that I can get for you to forgive me."

You sighed with a hopeless smile before cupping his cheek in your hand. Golden eyes interlocked with (E/c).

"Anything?" He nodded while holding your hand on his gloved one "Then I want this for now."

You pushed his black mask down before sweetly pressing your lips against his, smilling at the goose humps he made you feel while noticing how you got him out of guard.

When you broke it he looked down ag you with soft yet serious expression before carresing your cheek with his thumb.

"Can you really forgive me that easy?"

"It takes time for healing and you know it..." you rested your cheek on his shoulder "But at least you realized that it was bullshit your plan."

"Language..." he breathed out a chuckle before resting his own head on yours while hugging you by the waist.

If it meant he could have you on his arms as long as time would give him... then he was willing to admit that he failed...

"... quite strong slap you gave me back there dearest." He chuckled at your loud gasp and immediately apologizing and fussing over the cheek you hitted him.

[raspberryfanfics]

adventures of wandering nowhere (Vignettes)—nejiweek day 4

Day 4 Prompt— Fate | Freedom

     It’s Canada day:)       Also I’m not that happy with these but here they are anyway.

nulla. (prologue)

There’s a lot of things money can’t buy you. 

It’s cliche, but Neji Hyuga knows that it’s true in very many ways. Yet he also knows that money can buy you a lot of things to help with what it cannot. He always knew that the digits piling up in his bank account would be worth nothing if he didn’t save them for something good and he lets his uncle see what he wants to see until mid June before his nineteenth birthday.

Neji packs everything he needs, including his credit card, and goes to an airport. He doesn’t even know where he's going. Despite all the places he has been, the screen with way too many possible locations makes it extremely clear on how huge the world is and all the places worth going too expensive even for him. 

He wonders if he should throw a dart to a map or ask the first person he sees, following them. But he has been nearly everywhere, Paris, New York, Los Angeles, London, Beijing, Barcelona, Cairo, Berlin, Dubai...and he realizes that what the only thing they have in common, even with Tokyo, is the size. Oh, he also realizes that he really doesn’t want to go to another huge city.

So he scans the chart again and several choices are knocked away so he considers the next question: what does he want to do? 

Neji has been caged practically his whole life, doing everything his uncle wanted until now, and he was most definitely not going to stop yet. He wants to be able to run around and breathe fresh air and feel the breeze rather than the race of cars or drink from rivers so clean you could see the bottom. He wants space.

He stares at his map and thinks of space. Canada seems pretty nice. The country is huge, the population...not so much. There’s a variety of landscapes and people are said to be nice there. Honestly, he doesn’t really think much about kindness but the flight to Vancouver seems to speak to him so he books a flight as cheap as he can. 

On the airplane, he sat on the side of two friends, one with a ridiculous black bowl cut and another with two buns on the sides of her head. He hears them talking about what they’re gonna do and the places they will see. He hasn’t heard of half of them, he hasn’t studied at all and has no plan. The guy screams that he loves Canada, catching the attention of several other passengers and the girl smacks him in a playful sort of way.

But they are friendly, ask him questions, and tell them of their experience in the country and being outdoors. They offer to let him wander with them, an offer he can’t refuse. He tells them that he has money and will pay for any expenses they can’t, but they smile at him with a glint in their eyes. Because to Tenten and Lee, money can buy them more time to travel, more time to live, and that’s when Neji knows that though he won’t have any of the familiar luxuries, his adventures are going to last a whole lot longer. 

i. smaller big cities

Upon arriving in Vancouver, one thing is made very obviously clear to Neji: he will not be going to any tourist attractions. Vancouver is one of the biggest cities in Canada yet there is nothing more exhilarating about it than any other city he has been to. 

Tenten rolls her eyes at the sound of Stanley Park and Lee exclaims how unyouthful it is to keep the orca whales. He’s prepared to buy a hotel room for the three of them but instead, they go to a consignment store and sell all of the clothes in his suitcase. After that, they shop for a new set of clothes that cater more to being outdoors than going to business meetings and now his wardrobe is mostly hiking pants, cheap t-shirts, and hoodies. The purchase of a sleeping bag and a blow-up sleeping pad more than makes up for the price of a hotel room. 

Tenten and Lee then help his money again and they purchase a large second-hand pickup truck. They drive it to a nearby campsite and he’s absolutely shocked at how beautiful the mountains are. The lake is bluer than the sky and the area is filled with wildlife. He is taught how to set up their tent, sticking poles into tent gaps and held into the ground by metal pegs. A waterproof layer is thrown over. They then teach him to start a fire, which is a lot harder than it seems. 

The two have been in Canada so many times that in optimal conditions, they can start one without a lighter, or even flint and steel. He has to use several bits of crumbled newspaper. He learns that they burn more if they are in smaller bits and that some branches won’t catch as well. 

His sleep is not great, he is either too hot or too cold and when he wakes up to go to the bathroom it is pitch-black. He hears a rustling in the woods and screams. Neji never screams but the sound was terrifying and his two friends come rushing out with headlamps, blinding him. 

He learns that headlamps are stored in the tent pockets and the next time he goes to the woods to do his business, it is a very good idea to rely on those instead of the stars.

ii. wildlife

Neji very much likes the birds and squirrels in the multiple camping trips he has now been on. He never thought that he’d like bathing in rivers and a swimsuit, but he does. He still isn’t sick of campfire-made spaghetti or smores. 

He is in northern British columbia when he first sees a bear on the road. Bears are beautiful creatures. They are large and fluffy and the one he sees looks like a terrifying stuffed animal. Neji takes way too many pictures while Lee and Tenten laugh at him as they wonder when they can pull the truck away from the side of the road.

When he sees a bear when he’s camping, however, though his companions have kept all the smelly items in bear-proof containers, he is about to scream. Tenten clasps a hand over his mouth and waves her hands around. Lee lowers his voice several notches and tells the bear youthful things much slower. They talk to the bear for a few minutes, though it seems like several hours, and Neji swears he has never been as terrified in his life. In the end, the bear goes, as do they, and that’s when they realize how wrong they were not to give him the bear safety lesson.

He thinks that a bear is the most terrifying thing to happen to him though being relatively harmless if unprovoked, but one day they are just finishing packing the truck when he sees a moose. Neji is about to take a picture of the moose but it glares at him and suddenly has red blazing in his eyes. Lee is in the driver’s seat and Tenten is in the back of the pickup. Two of the four doors are still open. He is waiting for her to approach the moose in the way they did with the bear, but fear glazes in both their eyes and she screams run.

Neji is running for his life towards the truck and he jumps into the passenger seat and Lee drives off twice the speed limit, escaping a moose charging furiously towards them. All three of them are screaming for their lives and when they finally get to the highway, they look at each other and start laughing. The matter isn’t funny in the least, as Neji learns that there is no way to escape an angry moose rather than a bear, but they have just faced death in the form of a moose, right in the eye, but they survived. 

iii. canoe trip

The first time the three of them actually rent instead of buy something, it happens to be a canoe, lifejackets, and drybags. They teach him how to canoe, every stroke he needs to know, and what to do if he flips. He tosses throwbags, ties knots, and packs bags. When they deep him good on the lake, they are ready to go onto a river.

They ask an old friend to park their truck at their end destination, and they load the canoes with the waterproof bags, their tents and sleeping bags, and four days of food supplies. They camp along the sides of the riverbank, making campfires, roasting marshmallows and hot dogs. When they’re lucky, they find berries and collect them for an extra source of food. When the sun finally sets, he can see all the stars glimmering above him and time seems to stop. He no longer cares about the pressures in the world on the disappointment he was to his uncle. 

There are no problems in the middle of nowhere.

iv. talent

In the middle of nowhere, their truck breaks down. 

Neji nearly has a mental breakdown because they haven’t seen a single car on that road for an hour. However, Tenten and Lee decide to sleep in the back of their truck and camp on the side of the road. Three other vehicles pass but they don’t stop. He wants to scream.

He’s going to be stuck here, he has no battery on his phone, there isn’t any cell connection, and they were supposed to stock up on food supplies that day. Coming here suddenly seems like a very bad idea. The whole night he is awake, tossing and turning, while Tenten and Lee are fast asleep, comfortable, content.

He realizes that it was all a cruel joke because Tenten was a skilled mechanic and she fixes their truck in a matter of twenty-six minutes. It appears that their sense of humour is not as great as her ability to fix a damaged engine.

v. canada day

Neji sees freedom like the red and white fireworks in the sky. 

He isn’t scared anymore. 

The world looks down at him instead of down on him. Because there’s this feeling of relief. He can’t think of hours or dates, only knows what today is because otherwise, there wouldn’t have been fireworks. He wants this to last forever, or at least as long as he can. 

When Tenten and Lee told him that his money was time, not luxury, he completely understands it now. He doesn’t need the luxury of a roof anymore, good food, or clothes. Because in the end, the only thing they need to make this go on forever is gas and basic necessities. 

He likes freedom, much more than he ever thought he would.

[slaheir]

2 c:

HUGS FOR HISUI  — RELIEF

❛ tch ... ❜  finger nails bite into palms as he planks , arms braced either side of  unconscious  towa ,  backlash from her kikumonji’s strike signalling landslide with demons demise at it’s base. sending debris from mountainside hurling down toward them. how uncle kohaku, setsuna , moroha , and rest of the slayers party fared he knew not , but weight of boulder and earth on him. hiraikotsu between him and earth with labored breath , conscious of how much he takes . 

memory of mother and son flashes to mind , a rainy day . hard lesson . argument that stood out in mind . PULL YOURSELF UP!!!!!  her voice rang out like thunder.  I’VE BEEN BURIED ALIVE AND WHEN YOU ARE BETWEEN DEATH AND LIFE ITSELF YOU HAVE TO PULL YOURSELF UP !!! YOU CAN’T GIVE IN LIKE THAT !!!!

 sweat trickles into eyes , he blinks and shakes away . shifting weight with grown and pinch in lower back. FIGHT !!!! he resists urge to cry  FIGHT !!!!  he pushes with all his might back up  , dirt and debris malleable FIGHT HISUI FIGHT!!!!  

❛  ARGHAAHAHHHHHAAAAAH!!!! ❜  

there’s light and sight of paws , digging for him and shouts . with caked uniform, face and sore limbs he too pushes stones and mud out of way , for arm to be taken , nekomata’s fangs to sink into material of his clothes and drag him from rubble clinging to girl . he coughs , his back whapped and to insist for space. when silver haired girl comes to , albeit shaken but having no recollection of time spent in past hour. he’s so exhausted but waves off uncle’s hands and concern to look around. 

he sees every familiar face to him accounted for and runs hand down his face bewildered , how they all survived. waterskin is thrown at him and he downs it , greedily when takechiyo sets down with moroha and setsuna. both that run over to towa to kneel down and confirm she’s alright. 

steadying himself he limps , loping off towards path they took earlier where on mountainside ran river to splash and clean his face. hands shaking as he cups them to look down at mirror image. dried blood on side of his temple , split from impact most likely. the cold water feels nice and the temperature gives his mind somewhere to focus midst adrenaline and pounding headache. 

if he was surprised when feather light embrace came to him , not long thereafter from behind . for once he felt he understood her. that he couldn’t wear his line of thought or emotions so plainly. lest he breakdown. perhaps this was her way of saying thank you ?? right place , right time . no need. he’d assure her when he felt himself again. 

for now though , even if his voice wouldn’t quite work. he’d  —

small tremor’s response passes through him as he reaches back to place hand over hers on his shoulder and take comfort from her presence. 

looking down , with smallest of rueful smiles.  thank you?      no ...  thank you. for. stayiing with me. I ...

he clears his throat , gently  ❛ th... thanks.thank you. setsuna... I’m glad. ❜ tremors, again.  ❛ I’m glad we’re all okay ... ❜

[thedoctor1002]

Idk, I never posted one of my fics here but guess I'll try ~

Also, English is not my first language so feel free to correct me QwQ

Fandom: Psycho-Pass -season 1- (is this still a thing?)

Characters: Kogami Shinya, Sasayama Mitsuru, OC

Prompt (it was in Italian, so I'll translate): write a story using three among these words: cloud, dusk, thunderstorm, storm, hull, bay, shelter, sail, night

Title: Log date: 2110/02/28 (Friday) 22:04

---

The lights of the bay flicker dynamically before your eyes.

They dance hypnotically, of the same cyan colour of your office’s walls, but with a whole different beat. They drink the red and white trails from the traffic, they shatter and multiply in the tears of an inclement rain. I know how much you hate it, you just can’t stand going on recon with an umbrella. On the other hand, I love it.

Rain brings us close together under the waterproof cloth and I manage to observe details that neon lights often hide from me: the precise way you part your hair, the last few drops of the jasmine perfume on your jacket, your long lashes. Shion thinks they’re fake. We always fight over it, can you believe me?

After all, you’ve never been the kind of woman to wear such frills. 

A notification arrives, the acid light of your impalpable PC breaks through the sacred dark from where you pretend you don’t see me. It digs your silhouette and paints you like a ghost on the huge windows of the Public Safety Bureau.

Your jet-black hair lay on your back like varnish pouring over the white silk of your blouse.

“Pulling an all-nighter, Inspector Matou?” I ask casually, exposed. With you, after all, I always am: you’re the only one that can shush my shitty jokes.

But this time you laugh slightly: nothing more than a spike, a trembling breath that shakes your ribs and lips.

“The forecasts say that the storm won’t stop until tomorrow morning,” you tell me, sitting at your desk, “also, I’ve been delaying this paperwork through all week, it's about time I get it done. Might as well do some overtime and get rid of it, don’t you think?”

“You’re such a workaholic.” I label you, realizing how lucky I am being allowed to do it: Ginoza, that prude, would have never let it slide “You should leave some for the rest of the precinct: make 'em earn their wages.”

A tired smile crosses your face as you tap your fingers on the keyboard. It’s so clear you’re trying to avoid my glance.

You used to look for it.

You looked for my eyes at briefings, in that discrete way that eventually shocked everyone. You looked for them among alleys, as soon as you heard a gunshot or the chocked sound of a fight.

And when you found me, it felt like a 7 miles free fall.

“How are the legs going?” I dare to ask. I see the hollow structure of your new shins below the hem of your pencil skirt. They swing a bit underneath the glass of your desk. You didn’t lose your damn tic, your right heel shakes like the needle of a sewing machine even when you seem calm.

You shrug and drink the bottom of an already empty glass of water.

I shouldn’t have asked. It breaks my heart, to see you like this.

You don’t give me an answer and massage the back of your knee with a sigh. Lately, I feel like you’re avoiding me.

You’re turning back into the one you were before: uncompromising, cold and distant. I wonder if the bunch of ingrates downstairs have been calling you Dobermann again. I wonder if you’re still as relentless.

You worry me: your stress level is getting darker and darker. You don’t want old Kasei to take issues with you, not again.

I can imagine how you must have felt, the night when this mess happened.

You most likely got pissed, if I do know you.

I mean, did they really think I got away on my own? I bet you never doubted me: no one knows an Enforcer better than its Inspector.

“Runaway?! Have you lost your minds?” Sasayama?!”

Those were the first words you said when they rescued you. You spoke them way before cleansing your lungs from the rotten water of the river, way before asking Masaoka if you’d have ever got back to feeling your lower legs. They hurt like hell and you had to pull them around like sandbags.

“They got him” you panted, holding tight on your mentor’s coat “They took him away, I tell you!” The one that kidnapped him wasn’t a latent criminal. The Dominator didn’t activate, not even when they shot me. Please, believe me. Check on the log files, please.”

Crime coefficient: 0.

I know that bug still haunts you.

Cause, after all, it’s can’t be anything else: who on earth is that Makishima to fly under the Sibyl Sistem’s radar? Who can fool a network that knows your crimes before you do? And how is it possible that the silhouette that kneecapped you and threw you into a river could possibly be innocent?

You haven’t lost your mind, Inspector: the Dominator betrayed me, too.

Don’t think I don’t know how pitiful must have been, the next three days.

Makishima isn’t real. Forget it, it was just a delirium. You were in shock.

It was the trauma, dear. It was a breakdown. It was burnout syndrome.

You’d use some holiday, darling. Take a week. Take two. Go somewhere far, no, better: just stay at home. Go to therapy. Keep yourself busy, don’t think about it. Work. Also, don’t work: it wears you out!

They put you back on your feet in less than six hours, but nobody allowed you to join search parties. Heaven forbid your stress level getting any darker. Heaven forbid that yet another good Inspector gets demoted among those damn Enforcers. But, still, in the whole IT section, there wasn’t a single nerd that could get that night's logs. That's one funny thing, ain't it?

Woman, sometimes I wish your damn head wasn't that hard. I wish you didn't follow the Forensics to get a lift, so soon after the deed.

At least, you could have listened to Kogami. Shit, didn't you see how pale he was? You didn't even need the Dominator to read him, his stress level was mindblowing!

You should have believed him when he told you you didn't want to enter that alley. First off, it was already full of other detectives and analysts. I have no idea what kind of business you had to do in there. Second thing second, Kogami has an eye for certain matters. Do you think he didn't notice I’ve always been all over you? Not gonna lie, maybe I told him about you, once or twice.

But no, of course, you had to get in.

The software that taught you how to walk on those carbon stilts made you stand your ground and bark a "For fuck's sake, Shinya, move!" worthy of the Dobermann’s reputation. Even those who hadn't been called out made way.

But your new legs didn't hold you, when you saw what they had made of my corpse.

I'm sorry, Katsumi, I never wanted to upset you like that. 

You know how much I would have rather have a more heroic death. I don't know, like, in the middle of a shooting, saving the day. It would have been much classier, less tacky, less trash. I think I deserved it, that's all.

You stop typing and rub your temples. You shelter what’s left of your lipstick behind your hand. I wish I could kiss it off, instead of watching you consume it in a ruby red halo in the notch between your thumb and your index.

You lift your eyes only for Kogami, who’s passing by your office like a nurse in its night shift.

“So?” he asks in a whisper, putting more care in that question than I could have ever done. More than anybody could have ever done, because he’s the only one that gets you, right now. You two seem like the only ones who lost something.

You shake your head slowly, staring at the monitor and the dangerously high Crime Coefficient on the display.

“It's not working” you wail softly, misty-eyed. I can’t believe it, is it still you?

“They’re gonna kick me out anyway, if it doesn’t lower quickly” you continue, with that realism of yours. I used to call you a jinx for that but, at the end of the day, you always got our backs. “It’s for the best if I just resign. I’m gonna keep what's left of my dignity, at least.” 

The dark profile of my best friend looks through me, as he sits on the armchair next to mine. He would like to say something, a word of encouragement maybe, we all know it in this damn room, but numbers shut our mouths. 

“You could become an Enforcer” he proposes.

Goddammit, Shinya, did we work with the same person? Katsumi as an Enforcer?

And there you go, shaking your head. You hold your face in your hands and let your raven hair hide your visage. 

“Can you imagine me, following orders? I do know how to work, I can do it better than three-quarters of our colleagues and I’ve never had problems remarking it. They’d eat me alive if they had the chance. Dogs celebrate on the corpses of lions.”

“But lions remain lions and dogs stay dogs.” Kogami finishes, stealing my lines. 

I notice the slight trembling of your finger, as you tap your touchpad to send that last confirm.

In a few moments, the system will have your resignation registered. Your profile won’t unlock your Dominator anymore and in a few days time, just enough for you to collect your belongings, you won’t even manage to enter the office.

Who’s gonna explain to old Kasei that there's more of your stuff here than in your apartment?

I’d ask you what do you plan on doing with your life, but tonight’s decision seems definitely brave enough to call it a day.

I look at the tabs you open in your browser, they mirror in the windows behind you.

Air travel.

Argentina, Cuba, States, New Zealand, Germany, Kenya. You go around the world in 80 seconds flat, you multiply your chances and spread them all through the air in front of you, in a complex diagram that doesn’t lead anywhere.

I never wanted to take you away from your home, you don’t deserve this. 

You cover your eyes with a hand and use the other one to pick a random selection from your atlas.

Greece.

“Well, at least it’s on the sea.” you wrap up, condensing in a handful of words the only satisfaction you can find in starting a brand new life.

You two stare at the transparent screenshot of your flight, the countdown on the web page seems way too joyful.

“It’s so exciting, Katsumi Matou! Check-in your luggage. Your journey will begin in: 06 days: 17 hours: 34 minutes: 21 seconds”

20.

19.

18.

Seconds pass by, in complete silence.

“Do you think it would be a burden to him?” you ask Shinya, “Do you think he’d understand?”

Who would have guessed that a cynic one like yourself could believe in the afterlife? I wish I were here to ask you. I wish we could have spoken about life, death, sex, about things long gone and things yet to be.

His hand squeezes yours gently, as he looks at you in the eye, hoping to stop the train to Paranoidland from setting off.

“It’s not your fault” he reassures you as he can: the both of you wouldn’t make the average person’s empathy.

But he’s right, though, it really isn’t: I know you’ve done anything you could. It’s always been like that.

“Maybe I owe him” you draft “Even if they don’t believe in Makishima, maybe one day I could have proved he exists.”

The teal of your Psycho-Pass would suit you wonderfully, if it wasn’t a description of your mental health.

What could you possibly do in these conditions? You’d have ended up in a cubicle, filing loss and theft reports. You would have never made it to the dossiers, surely not to those of such a controversial case. Making you end up in a study room would have been my final bullshit. I’m happy with your choice, really. I would have loved visiting Europe someday.

“Don’t talk nonsense.” Kogami rebukes you, externalizing what I’ve been thinking all along: “I’m going to look out for your man: your team has already given way too much. I’m gonna find him, Matou, cold case or not.”

You nod, but it’s clear you don’t believe him. I can read through you, you’re a terrible liar.

I don’t think you don’t trust him, most likely you’ve done the math and figured that working on an independent case is far too difficult for an Inspector, let alone for an Enforcer.

And there it is, my fall. After an exhausting chase, you finally look into my eyes, even though -according to Shinya- you’re most likely staring at the void.

Despite being used to such races, believe me, I’ve missed you.

“I’m just so sorry.” you finally whisper, giving me a bitter smile. 

Try and stop me, Ginoza, tell me once again how inappropriate it is: I don’t mind anymore. I get up and I don’t hesitate while holding you and leaving a kiss on your hair, shamelessly.

“I’m going to grab some coffee” I announce, walking backwards to the door like a shrimp, just to look at my dearest friends a bit longer. “I’d get you one, but I’m short on coins. Maybe next time.”

“See you, Inspector.”, Kogami greets you, leaving alongside me.

“Be good.” you wave back, as we were all to meet again tomorrow.

Walking through the dark alley, I can hear an excerpt from our last conversation through the opaque glass of your office.

“You’re jerk, Sasayama!”

I can hear you laughing out loud, through the crackly recording. You laughed at my gall, with that warm, strong, sweet voice of yours, mocking me. Admit it: mine, after all, were the only compliments that could make you blush.

It’s incredible how we managed to joke even inside a car that was taking us on a crime scene. To an external eye, we might have looked disrespectful. Truth is I’ve always feared death so much I just had to laugh at the reaper.

“Oh, come on, what would it take? Come with me to the Precinct’s New Year’s dinner, the 17th is around the corner!” I kept annoying you, as you were too busy driving to mind my dumb flirt attempts. I still can’t get how we never had an accident. “Be good, Katsumi, give me a joy to live for!”

“You could always ask Shion, you know? You always give her more attention, after all.”

I hear the subtle sound of the wheels stopping, the parking brake cracking and it’s like Ogishima’s outskirts appear before my eyes, in that same January night. That place gave me goosebumps, but I would have hated if you understood it.

“Here we are” you announced, with still a bit of resentment in your voice. You unlocked the passenger’s door and I remember I left your Dominator in the car’s trunk: I didn’t want you to follow me. Not that time.

“You scare me when you pay so much attention” you commented, noticing how serious I got “will you tell me why are you insisting so much to keep on searching? Kogami got the guy. Tomorrow we go, we arrest him and it's thank you, next.”

My answer has been recorded as a distant and muffled noise, but I still can trace it: “He’s not the one, I tell you. I have another suspect, but I need a more solid base. And you’re staying, Inspector.”

“Staying?! You’ve gone crazy!” you laughed, locking the corporate sedan behind you “If something were to happen to you, or worse if you didn’t come back, Kasei would…”

“I said you’re staying: it’s dangerous.”

“Sasayama, our work is dangerous,” you replied, contemptuous, understanding that clearly among the gear I brought I didn’t count yours and going back to the car to get it “One more risk won’t make a difference: if I have to drop dead, it can either be here, at home or god knows where.”

“Will you join me for the precinct’s dinner, though?”

And here is a sequence that the voice recorder surely can’t have grasped, but that I could remember even in a thousand years. You cast an outraged glance over me from above the trunk’s door, panting through a half-smile. You shook your head, tucking your hair behind your ear. And finally, after refusing my invitations since 17th November, during lunch break, you smiled shrugging.

“Deal, come on, just make way” you sighed, as your heels echoed on the wet concrete “Still, you’re a jerk.”

“I recorded it: you have no excu-”

The audio file interrupts.

End of recording.

[malecftw]

When the Angel meets the Warlock (part 2)

Part 1 Part 3

And so time went on. The Angel being too intrigued to go back to Heaven, the Warlock too infatuated to go back to his coven.

Instead, they met somewhere in the middle. The Greendale forest to be more precise.

It didn’t take much for the Angel to let a treehouse sprout from the branches of one of the oldest trees rooted there, she’d never let the warlock know but being surrounded by the trees and nature had other advantages than being able to stay hidden from both of their worlds.

While the warlock meant good, his energy wasn’t. At least not for a Heavenly Creature like her. She thanked the Lord every day for the trees, they made it bearable to spend as much time together as they possibly could seeing as the Earthly energy somewhat canceled out his bad energy.

“I know I may not be human, but being friends with a half-witch has its perks.” He exclaimed, grinning as he took her hand and led her into the starry sky. After about an hour of tripping over roots sticking out of the damp soil, leafs whistling in the soft summer wind and a whole lot of giggles they arrived at the edge of the forest. Nicholas let go of the hand he was previously holding as he guided her through the forest. 

She looked at him, piercing blue like hard aquamarine glistening in the dark of night, her eyes almost seemed to emit a radioactive glow. Enchanting nonetheless. Her eyebrows were raised and she looked at him inquisitively. The soft glow her skin carried, was lowered to a minimum. Then again, a figure resembling a human glowstick just appearing out of nowhere on a regular Friday night would seem rather odd.

“Stay here.” He whispered, kissing her forehead with a gentleness she hadn’t experienced before. Heaven was good. Obviously. But it also had no room for human emotion. As Angels, their one and true duty was to fulfill the work of the Holy Lord. Nothing more, nothing less. A sacred task only few were gifted.

Nicholas turned his back and started stepping away from her. A sudden panic in her chest rose, she hadn’t been left alone since she arrived on Earth. Nicholas heard the sudden rustling of the leaves beneath her feet and turned around. The panicked look on her face seemed so out of character. She was an almighty being. What could possibly have her panicked?

“You’ll come back? Right?” The uncertainty in her voice was apparent and it made his heart nearly jump out of his chest. This girl, she wanted him. She wanted him to stay by her side and he couldn’t help but be surprised.  In all his life, the only person who’d truly needed him was himself. He was used to not being wanted. At least not on a deeper level than a one night stand or an orgie with the Weird Sisters. But this girl, she wanted him. All of him. They were taking baby steps, neither of them having any sort of experience with this kind of situation. You know the whole forbidden love between Angels and well basically anyone let alone a Warlock of the Dark Lord.

He looked into that piercing blue once again. “Of course. Where else would I go?” He said softly, almost too soft for her to hear. But she did. She straightened her back and gave him a small nod. Signaling to him that she was going to wait there for him. He made work of his plan and stepped away again, looking back every couple of steps, ensuring that she was okay. Just to be safe.

His hand grasped the cold door handle, neon lights illuminating his skin. The diner was oddly empty apart from a couple of teenagers here and there but that didn’t faze him. The only person he wanted to focus his attention on tonight was waiting for him a few feet away outside of that door. His idea was cute. At least he thought so. A poor attempt at slowly starting to try and make her realize what she was missing in Heaven. He knew how silly it was of him to have hope. Hope that for some unknown reason, she’d stay. He knew it was selfish, but he couldn’t help himself. Since the moment he laid his eyes upon her, he was a goner. He’d give up everything, but he also wasn’t a fool. He knew there was no place for him in her world. He’d never ask her to stay, he’d never ask her to give up everything she’d ever known but he couldn’t help but try and plant a little seed of doubt in her mind. 

“Hey kid, you alright? You’ve been staring at that menu for an awfully long time.” Nick was pulled from his thoughts and thrown back into the real world in a matter of seconds when the owner of the diner interrupted the never-ending wheel of possibilities in his brain. The man seemed worn down, his long shift probably taking a toll but he didn’t seem to lose the kind sparkle in his chocolate brown eyes. He looked at Nicholas, almost as though he was prepared for a mental breakdown to happen, the teenage boy in front of him looking rather lost. Nick shook his head, clearing his thoughts and remembering what he was doing there. “Uh yeah sorry, could I have a regular cheeseburger and fries to go times two. Oh and a Vanilla and Chocolate milkshake please.” The elderly man nodded and got to work, leaving Nick behind at the bar. 

Nicholas spun in his chair, trying to look outside the window. He couldn’t see her, but he knew she was there. She’d never just leave. One of the few things in his life he could count on. His gaze shifted when a couple of teenagers started laughing in a booth a couple of steps away from him. They seemed careless, young and free. All three of those things, he would never be. One of them caught his gaze and stuck his hand in the air. “Sorry dude, we thought we were the only ones in here!” He was wearing a blue and yellow jacket, his red hair sticking out in various places on his scalp. “No problem dude, I’ll only be a second.” He said loudly so the guy could hear. They exchanged a nod and the boy went back to the conversation with his friends.

Nick looked back at the door of the kitchen which was swung open right at that moment. The man appeared with two brown paper bags and set them on the counter in front of the warlock. “That’ll be 15 in total.” The man looked as he got out his wallet, his lips turning upwards as Nick realized the mistake. “Did you add the milkshakes?” The older man sighed smiling. “I know a troubled mind when I see one. I also know milkshakes make everything better. These are on the house kid.” “Are you sure?” The man nodded. Nick laid out 20 on the counter, giving the man a 5 dollar tip. “Thank you, sir.” He said while bowing his head slightly in gratitude. “Don’t worry about it kid.” He yelled as Nick was walking towards the exit. “Oh, and call me Pop.” Nick turned around and saluted him. “You got it, Pop.” He smiled as he opened the door and stepped out into the night again.

He smiled as he saw her hesitant figure, she was hesitating to come out of the safety of the forest she’d called home for the past couple of weeks. So being the good (almost) boyfriend that he is, Nick halted his steps leaving her with no choice but to face her anxiety and come out into the unknown world for the first time. 

She smiled knowing what he was doing. And she loved him for it. Ever since they had met, he showed her small gestures of support. Not only offering her comfort but also pushing her limits in the most affectionate ways. Always ensuring her that she was safe and he was never gonna let anything or anyone hurt her. Before she could fully realize it, her feet were moving slowly towards the boy she’d grown so fond of. And he smiled. Boy, did he smile alot. She felt like a child, taking her first steps into the world and in a way she was. And was she lucky to have someone like him guiding her and supporting her.

As he took her hand, he immediately pulled her closer. Every chance he got to be close to her, he’d be a fool not to grasp.  She looked down at the paper bags in his hand. “What are those?” She asked, voice almost giving out from not speaking for a while. He squeezed her sides teasingly and she squealed. “You’ll see little miss impatient. Come on, I know just the spot.”

They walked back into the forest for a couple of minutes, the trickling of water becoming more and more apparent as they neared a small stream. At least she thought it was a small stream. Now, she was actually looking out over a river. The sound of the water cascading over the rocks wasn’t disturbingly loud. It was actually surprisingly gentle.

Nicholas went ahead and took a seat on one of the bigger rocks, patting the spot beside him. She quickly obliged, sighing in enjoyment as her bare feet came into contact with the sweet water, washing away the dirt on the soles of her feet, accumulated by walking through the forest. She returned her attention to the dark-haired boy as he started taking out the contents of the brown paper bags.

“This, Milady will change your life.” He said as he gently put the thin cardboard box with the burger and fries in her hands. She eyed the food suspiciously. “This is supposed to be,... Good?” Nick laughed at her distrust. “Not just good darling, I’d even call it... Heavenly.” She rolled her eyes at the incredibly cheesy pun as he cracked himself up over it. Chewing on a fry as he nudged her side. “Ha Ha... Making fun of the uncultured angel. How dare you Mr. Scratch” He grinned and took a fry, holding it up to her. “Just try it, if you don’t like it we can throw it away but I’ll be damned if I don’t introduce you to this exquisite delight the mortal world has to offer.”

She raised an eyebrow and took the fry from his hands, biting into it slowly as he eyed her reaction. A pensive, judging expression made its way onto her facial features keeping him anticipating her final judgment. “I kinda like it.” At that, he threw his hands up in the air, a clear signal of his pride. And then, he really got excited. “Do you know what’s even better?” He asked as he took the plastic lid off of the milkshake cup. She waited, assuming that was a rhetorical question.

He dipped one of his fries into the chocolate milkshake and once again held it up in front of her. “This is actually the best. The combination of sweet and salty. Unf, it hits me every single time.” She laughed as she watched him basically fangirl over a chocolate milkshake covered fry but took his offer anyways.

He was right. It was even better than the normal fry. Her eyes widened and she excitedly nodded her head. “This is so good! Why do we not have this back home wow.”  As the girl raved on about the food, he took a moment to observe her. The light freckles starting to show as she was being exposed longer and longer to the natural light of the sun during her time on Earth. The dimples that appeared out of nowhere, he one day noticed and couldn’t get out of his head since. The way she crinkled her nose when he complimented her. He wants all of it. All of her. For all of time.

“Hey, you got a little something there.” He says softly as his thumb touches the corner of her mouth, wiping away a little bit of chocolate as a result of her trying another milkshake covered fry. She snaps out of her raving, entranced by his stare. She hadn’t noticed how close they had gotten until their noses were almost touching. His hand resting on her cheek, his thumb ghosting over her bottom lip.

“You take my breath away.” He whispers as he leans in, his soft lips carefully touching hers, giving her time to back out if she wants to. But that’s the peculiar thing...

She doesn’t want to.

A/N: I really had to work for this one cause the pond of inspiration was dry as hell this weekend (pun intended hehe). I hate sundays. So I figured why not attempt to make it a little better.

Hope you like it!

Let me know if you want me to make a part 3

Tags: @ohmypreciousgavinyeet @carostar2020 @i-love-you-green @kaepm981

Masterlist.

[rosemaruii]

The Stars in Your Eyes Will Shine

Choi Jongho x OC Ghost!AU

Synopsis: After having met an unlikely see-through housemate, OC Jiwon has found herself to have fallen in love with him. The only issue is that he’s a ghost. It’s pretty quick to the point and there’s a happy ending wahey

Words: a lot. (3782)

Also published on Wattpad under user Rosemarui

Jiwon had a little secret. A minor thing she hadn't told any of her friends or family. She actually had a roommate living with her, a boy. A ghost.

She's not crazy by the way, there was a time she didn't believe in ghosts either. Although, upon coming face to face with one, she couldn't help but believe it. Why didn't she move out? Well he was... charming? She didn't really get it herself, but she couldn't bring herself to move out - it was hassle and he wasn't that bad. In the beginning he stayed well out of her way, only coming out to see the sun occasionally.

Now a couple months in, he sat comfortably beside her as she watched a random drama on TV. To be perfectly honest, it made her nervous. Not because of his being a ghost or anything, just, well, him in general... She knew it was kinda strange and probably frowned upon in some way? There were probably some ghost-human rules out there somewhere.

"Is he doing good?" The ghost beside her pointed out, gesturing to the screen.

To be frank, she had no clue what was happening - having zoned out a while ago. Focusing her eyes on the screen, she noticed the lead character on the floor, bleeding out of various lethal wounds.

"Um... I don't think so, but he's the lead so he'll survive." She muttered absently, already feeling herself zoning back out.

Jongho turned to look at her, noticing her glassy eyes.

Waving his hand in front of her, he asked, concerned, "Are you alright?"

"Huh?" Jolting from her stupor, she looked around for a second before her eyes registered Jongho in front of her. "Oh, uh, I'm fine... Just concerned about, um, school."

From the scrunch of his eyebrows, she could tell he didn't believe her in the slightest. To try and reassure him, she gave a small smile and held her hands up, "I'm fine, promise."

With a disgruntled frown, he slumped back down, taking time within the next hour to steal quick glances at her.

He was concerned, of course he was. She meant, well, the entire world to him. She didn't leave upon seeing him, she stayed and kept him company, she told him he was her precious friend. Although those words, somewhere in him, stung, he was eternally happy.

She excused herself after the show finished and took to her room, leaving him to watch as she retreated upstairs. He wanted to do something for her but what was there to do? He didn't even know what was wrong, not to mention he couldn't exactly leave.

It frustrated him, this body of his as well as his inability to help her. What good is making crockery float when he can't even comfort his special person?

Being alone now made him wonder how he even spent the days before her, he was so bored and a minute hadn't even passed yet. Before her, he didn't have a games console or TV, no books no nothing. Now he had that, but he just couldn't find the energy to interact.

It took ten minutes before he sauntered upstairs to look for her. A second to hear quiet sobs and less than that to burst into her room, not caring if the door was shut - he flew straight through the wall.

"Jiwon?" He muttered, approaching her hunched form slowly.

She didn't react upon hearing his voice, there wasn't any need to hide it; he'd already seen her. Letting out a humourless laugh, she apologised, "I'm fine, sorry..."

It was excruciating to watch as tears fell to the floor, knowing that he couldn't do anything to help. He could only talk to her, there was nothing more to connect with.

"You're not. Please don't cry?" he begged, crouching in front of her and extending a hand, only to pull back. He remembers she mentioned 'touching' him was cold, the whole phasing business was disturbing too. It's just he forgets he can't touch her.

"It's really stupid, I'm stupid. Sorry for being a bother..." she sniffled, wiping her nose on her sleeve as she mustered the brightest smile she could - a step down from her usual ones. It made him frown, but he quickly covered it with a weak smile of his own. He didn't want to make her feel worse.

Taking a deep breath, she looked at the cause of her small breakdown. Still transparent. She couldn't even wrap her arms around him or hold his hand, was this affection even possible? The uncontrollable flow of tears continued to roll over her cheeks, but she had long stopped sobbing. It was just the sting of acceptance now. He was unreachable.

The next few days were torture. They were just like normal, but it felt so much harder.

At one point she was reading a book on the sofa, turning the page regularly. She didn't flinch when sight of a head entered her peripheral, nor when he spoke in a whisper, "What's this book about?"

"It's about society. A depressed man trying to find a reason to live," she answered him in a similar volume.

"Sounds morbid," he said, resting his chin on his hands and reading anyway.

She smiled, "It is."

Possibly a half hour later, Jongho stood up, not worrying about the book - he wasn't even reading it in the first place.

"Jiwon? Let's go out."

Freezing, she closed the book slowly as she turned around to face him, "What?"

"I wanna see the river."

She was confused and worried, but stood up.

"Why? Is that-" she paused, "can you leave?"

A wistful grin spread on sinful lips, "We'll find out, wont we?"

He went to hold his hand out, and she went to take it, only they realised a little late. Her hand passed right through, sending a freezing cold shiver down her spine. He snapped his hand back and apologised, taking steps back towards the door.

"Can you," he nodded towards the door, "get that?"

Staring blankly at his guilt ridden face, a moment of awkwardness was enough to snap her back to her senses. Stumbling, she shuffled to the entrance and took a step outside, turning and watching as Jongho hesitated in the doorway.

She too was nervous, her heart was pounding like a drum in her chest. In spite of her fear, she wore a reassuring smile, hiding that she'd be ruined if he vanished before her eyes.

He took small steps, even smaller as he placed a foot outside. When he didn't feel anything odd, he took another stride, and another. He first looked up at the darkening sky, seeing the sun slowly lowering towards the horizon; then he looked at her. Glowing in the evening light, he didn't bother lingering on what she looked like - he was far too ecstatic about being able to leave. With a toothy grin, he ran up to her excited, waving his arms around like a child.

"Jiwon! I left! I can leave!"

She ignored the toxic melancholy settling in her stomach and grinned right back at him, "You did, you couldn't before?"

He shook his head, "I couldn't even access the garden."

A warmth enveloped her, it was different to the regular cold she felt around him. As if she was infected by his excitement, she cheered from beside him and set off for the river. Only to realise a second later that he wasn't following.

"Jongho?"

He stood behind her still, watching her skip around. A gentle expression that vanished when she turned and met his hesitant eyes.

"Are you okay? We can go back-" she was cut off by a chuckle, he waved her off and began to walk towards her.

"It's fine, let's go?"

Trailing her eyes on him, she hurried behind him.

It didn't take long for their paces to match, ghosts still had to walk. Even just feeling his subtly cold presence beside her was enough, she was content with just that. She decided it was best to leave it as it was, unnaturally natural. Only things never worked out the way they're planned, her ideas all the same.

When she felt a familiar cold wrap around her hand, she stumbled slightly. She tried to look at him but his face was turned away from her, maybe his was as red as hers was, even without the circulation of blood. Despite not being able to feel his hand, she loosely closed hers around his. Every single resolution to forget about her impossible feelings flew out of the window, crushed into tiny pieces and burnt to a crisp. Was it a sin to think this could be something, something possible?

This warm night suddenly turned bitter. She was beyond hoping, thinking realistically was the only way to prevent damage. Even with that in mind, she couldn't find it in her heart or mind to let go, to pull away and tell him to stop playing with her. Call her weak, call her stupid, but all she wanted was something real, even if he wasn't.

A painstakingly silent walk later and the sight of the river, basking in moonlight, painted a scene in front of them. It was almost like a movie setting, the dim street lights and the steadily rising moon, the darkening of the deep orange sky and the moon reflected in the bottomless water.

Jiwon let out a small gasp at the picturesque view, slowly dropping her hand through Jongho's without realising it.

For some reason everything just seemed to glow.

"I've been here before at night, but I don't think I've ever really admired it like this..."

"Jiwon?"

Turning around, the bliss slowly dropped from her eyes. He wasn't usually so serious looking, it honestly made her scared. Was it true? Was he really going to disappear? Why? Or was he just playing with her? The tension killed her.

"Can I ask you something?"

She nodded despite not wanting to know.

"Do you think it's possible for someone... to fall in love with something that doesn't, isn't supposed to exist?"

Mouth parting as she took in his words, her eyes glistened with a layer of dew. She nodded, "I think it's, it's not impossible."

He smiled so slightly she could barely see it in the light of the retreating sun and flickering lamps.

"Then," he started, "can something without a beating heart still feel love?"

Frowning, she stepped towards him, only for him to take a step back, "Of course. There's, there has to be exceptions." She didn't hesitate.

"Can I be an exception?"

Her heart thudded like thunder in her chest, violently but oh so full of hope.

"Can I?" she returned, standing confidently staring right through him. "Can I love someone who doesn't exist?"

He swallowed thickly. As much as he wanted to decline, he knew that wasn't what he'd been struggling for.

"I want you to be."

"Then-" A short yelp diverted his attention from the strikingly interesting gravel. Eyes whipped back to where Jiwon was supposed to be, only to not see her. Turning his eyes to the hill leading to the river, he could just make out the silhouette of something tumbling town it. It took a moment for that to register in his mind, then the shrill yelling and self deprecating laughter.

"Jiwon?" he called after her, quickly hurrying and sliding down the slope as fast he could without falling himself, "Are you okay?"

A short pained laugh, "Yeah! I'm fine."

She was happy, so happy. She couldn't even begin to describe the emotion in her mind and even what she felt physically. Her hairs were standing on end and she was tensed up but she was over the moon, her stiff body didn't feel stiff it felt light, like she was laying on a cloud.

She heard Jongho's approaching footsteps before seeing him kneel beside her. It was that comforting cold sensation again, not like the damp clamminess of the earth beneath her. He didn't have a scent though, all there was, was the gritty stench of mud and an overbearing grassy scent. How she longed to know what he felt like, what he smelt like, even what he... She just wanted to feel him, nothing more. To know him better and connect with him deeper, it was everything she ever thought about.

His face entered her vision, taking up almost all of it as he stared into her dazed eyes.

"Are you really okay?"

The mood from before, was it forgotten all so easily? She didn't want to ignore his feelings over her mistake, she should've looked where she was walking. It wasn't her fault she couldn't take her eyes off him.

"Jongho?" she muttered, staring just as deeply into his eyes. He nodded, thinking something very different was going to happen, he wasn't expecting her next move.

She picked up her sore arm from the ground.

"I love you," she smiled and placed a hand on his cheek.

It didn't pass through. It wasn't cold. He was warm, soft, she could feel his skin beneath her fingers. He was alive.

Both of their eyes shot open.

Jongho quickly took a hold of her hand, getting even more stunned when he actually grabbed her. He could actually touch her. She was warm, he knew she was warm, but he could really really feel her. Her soft skin and tiny hands, he was holding them.

His sickly blue tinted skin exploded with vigorous colour.

Jiwon didn't waste a breath before sitting up and planting her other hand on his shoulder.

"I can touch you."

"You can touch me."

They both muttered, breaths colliding.

It was then his translucent hand was brought to attention. He was planning on touching her face with it, only to notice he couldn't see his hand, let alone feel it. She saw it too and felt her heart, her world come to a stop.

Was he, was he really going to disappear? Now?

"Wait!" she cried desperately, eyes already bleeding tears, mirroring Jongho's own expression as he turned eyes on her. "Don't- don't go, you can't!"

He was equally as terrified. He had no idea what was happening, but he had an inkling.

He didn't waste another second. Dragging her towards him with his remaining hand, he wrapped himself around her, burying his head into her shoulder. She also didn't spare any time before clutching onto him, taking in his unique warmth, the new scent like fresh laundry, but how he felt in her arms. She didn't want him to be taken away from her so soon.

"Please don't leave," she begged, a stream of ugly tears gushing down her face, "don't leave me alone, not now."

Her tight embrace grew slack as the body in her arms burst into nothing.

~~One month after~~

Jiwon has, for the most part, been trying to move on with her life during the past month; unfortunately a tougher task than originally expected. She rid her home of all and anything that reminded her of the supernatural ghost boy. The book she read with him. The trinkets he used to pick up randomly to scare her. Even the clothes she wore that day. She tossed it into the attic and didn't think twice before locking it up, even leaving a final defence in the form of a note - Don't think about entering! it read. It wasn't the best, but for now she had the strength to leave it be.

As she plopped down on the significantly lonelier sofa, she realised just how cold it was. No longer did she watch those dramas, too distraught by the fact that she wouldn't hear his annoying voice picking out every little fault and detail. It was rare that she found herself reading too, not wanting to remember the comforting chill every time he'd lean over her shoulder to read alongside her.

Goosebumps dotted her skin as she took a look around at the vast space, empty and cold. It wasn't warm like it was when he was here, as contradictory as it may be.

She would find herself breaking down in the middle of menial tasks, dinner preparation, cleaning, even sleeping. Because finally she realised just how big of an impact he made on her. Taking care of heavy lifting, getting things from high shelves, helping divide the housework, even singing to her at night. He was irreplaceable - not that she'd know where to attain another ghost housemate. She didn't want someone else, though, she only wanted him. Cheesy as it was, she wasn't able to function right without him.

Burying herself in school and work was all she could do.

Despite the sudden dedication to her studies, she still without fail continued to mark on the calendar every day that had passed without him. At the very least, out of everyone in the world, even if everyone forgot him she would remember. She'd remember how he smelt in her arms, his muscular frame and the sound of his heartbeat; the colour of his skin and the sight of his ecstatic grin, she'll remember everything about his evanescent warmth.

There was an attempt to give up hope after the first week, she tried convincing herself he wasn't coming back, it was impossible. However, she soon found that hope suited her better. Not to mention the resounding thump of his heart still echoed in her mind. He was alive, she knew it. The only issue was if he could return to her, if he even wanted to. She wanted him to, to finally be able to hug and kiss him and take him out, to hold his hand and experience everything again.

All this thinking about it just brought a layer of tears to her eyes. The game show on TV had long been forgotten, she stared at the wall just beside the stand entrapped in her thoughts.

One by one, the buds of water rolled from her eyes, slowly trickling over her cheeks and down her jaw to her neck. She didn't bother to wipe it, she didn't even know she was crying.

One two three, tears or seconds she wasn't sure but a shrill chime rang throughout her home, startling her from her trance.

Deciding to ignore it, she went back to paying attention to the television even if she hadn't an idea what was happening. But- whoever was at the door was impatient. Heavy knocks and thuds, the ringing of the doorbell in her ears, it didn't take much for her to run to the door.

"Yes?" Jiwon huffed, sounding both withdrawn and a little agitated; understandably so.

"You're crying," he said.

The heavy drum of his voice, the slight mumble as he pronounced the words, the familiar deepness. Her hands shook as sweat rolled down her back. She couldn't- she couldn't believe it. Her eyes widened upon seeing his familiar face before her, now an even more impressive amount of tears left rivers down her face. Struggling to talk or form sentences, she stammered and blubbered like a fish out of water. Hesitantly, she brought a weak hand up to attempt to touch him.

In her delirious state did she conjure him up or something in her mind? Was this just a figment of her imagination? Discombobulated, she could only stare as he took short strides towards her. His shoes almost bumping into her socks, he drew his physical body as close as he could to her and grabbed the hand she had hovering in the air.

Wiping the waterfall still running from her blatantly sore eyes, he ignored the redness and locked onto their colour.

"Jiwon," he whispered, brushing tear after tear away, "I'm sorry."

Instead of another embarrassing attempt to form legible words, she just stared at him in shock and shook her head loosely.

Chuckling briefly, he swept some stray hairs behind her ear, "You got a haircut."

She nodded, able to now keep in, to an extent, her sobs.

"You're beautiful."

Unfortunately for her he wasn't making it easy.

"I missed you," she breathed, wavering as she held a hand to his cheek. She could feel him, he could touch her, they could feel each other. It was as if she were holding a silk pillow in her hands, even with the odd rough patch of small bumps or invisible acne it was everything she dreamt about. Her eyes drifted from his to where they made contact, she really could touch him. He was warm, so warm.

Her fingertips grazed over the sides of his hair, just as soft as it looked. His glossy hair easily allowed her to slip her hand through, dusting over the top of his ear.

"You're here," she cried, a new round of water pooling in her tortured eyes.

Removing his grip on her hand, he took to holding the other side of her face and wiping her eye.

"I told you not to cry, remember?" he smiled, dropping his forehead against hers. Warm, it was warm. She was warm and smelt exactly like he thought she would, strawberries and sugar. Sweet. Her reaction was as he expected, tears, tears and more tears. But he couldn't deny he felt the same.

She nodded and smiled as best she could, a sound of realisation escaping her chewed and sucked in lips. She was biting them to prevent any unwarranted noise, to attempt to stop the downpour.

Looking up through her eyelashes, she met his less than calm eyes. She never noticed the fondness within them, nor that they were a beautifully deep colour of brown.

"I love you," she whimpered, wiping her face as best she could with two hands, even trying to hide behind them. It was difficult as he also had hold of her with his forehead against hers no less.

Turning, he brushed his lips against hers, their noses bumping together slightly didn't distract him, he merely smiled at the contact.

"I love you," he told her as she balled the clothing on his chest into her loose fists, "I love you," he kissed her cheek, "I love you," she closed her eyes, he kissed between her eyebrows, "I love you," his voice faltered, finally every emotion was catching up to him. She was in his arms reciprocating, she loved him, she was waiting for him.

He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her oh so close. He looked into her dry eyes with watery ones and pressed his cheek against hers, "I love you."

[oohfluffy]

LMN Ch.24 | OSH

Group: EXO

Member: Oh Sehun

Theme: Angst | Fluff | Writer!AU | Neighbor!AU

Word Count: 3,254

✎ Chapter 24: Breathe ✎

"I told you they'll start dating!"

"You already knew it before you even said it to me! You're a cheater!"

"Hey, I'm not!"

You groaned as you turned to your siblings who were fighting in your room. You already told your family about you and Sehun, of course, telling them won't be easy. Your dad still wants to have the talk with Sehun.

"Were you two betting about me and—"

"Oppa started it! He said those two will start dating this week, pay me 10000 won if they do! I didn't believe him, so I said fine! He probably tricked me because he knew Sehun oppa and you already likes each other!"

"You—"

"Will you two just take your quarrel outside?" You mumbled as you closed your little notebook.

Chanyeol pouted as he poked Chanhee's nose, causing the other to poke his tummy back.

It will never end.

"Ah!" Chanhee exclaimed as she walked towards you. "Do you have your hanbok for the Spring Festival already? Bora and Soyu are excited about it! It's on Sunday."

"Oh right, I think mine's still at the storage." You groaned in frustration as you remembered the festival.

"That's okay! I'll find yours if you want, unnie."

"No, I'll do it." You smiled at her as you stood up and ruffled her hair. "What about you, Yeol? Are you gonna wear your—"

"Nah. I don't like wearing those. They're itchy and uncomfortable." Chanyeol shook his head as he went to your window. "Is Sehun up? It's 12 in the afternoon already."

"He's taking a shower." You answered as you went to your laptop and opened it.

"How'd you know?! Did you already go past the third base?!" Chanyeol panicked as he opened your window, ready to curse at his best friend, making you shake your head in annoyance.

"What's the connection, Yeol? Will you please stop shouting all of a sudden? You're gonna give me a heart attack." You mumbled as you checked your mails, scrolling the page up.

"That playboy. He didn't do anything to you, did he?" Your brother asked and your cheeks instantly got tinted in red.

"W-Why are you asking me that?"

"I'm asking because I'm your brother and he's my best friend, noona!" Chanyeol shook your shoulders, his wide eyes staring into yours intensely.

"H-He didn't do anything!"

"Promise?!"

You looked away from his gaze and bit your lower lip in perturbation, your hands kept on clenching and unclenching, and your eyes keeps on blinking.

"You're nervous! That means you're totally lying, noona! Ha! You can't fool me!" Chanyeol exclaimed as he pinched both of your cheeks as if you're younger than him. "I'll just ask Sehun instead!"

After that he walked out of your room with a triumphant smile, leaving you flustered and Chanhee gapping.

"Oh my gosh." She mumbled as she stare expectantly at you.

"What now?" You said in a bored tone. Chanhee grinned at you and sat on your bed.

"Tell me, unnie."

"No way."

"Aww. Come on! This is a girl talk!"

"It's embarrassing!"

"You shouldn't be embarrassed! It was Oh Sehun who asked you on a date and made a move on you! You should be proud of it, unnie!" Chanhee pumped a fist on the air as she spoke, encouraging you to tell her what happened.

You glanced at the opened window of yours and saw that Sehun's still not finished. You cleared your throat before looking back at your sister, who's sitting pretty on your bed, waiting for you to speak.

"Well, he brought me to this place where you can see the whole city. It's like a huge garden on top of a hill, the nature surrounding us and it's calming there. He packed lunch for us and we had a picnic under a tree." You happily explained as you remembered the memorable day for the two of you. "It was simple but romantic. I loved it."

"I knew you're a sucker for simple romantic dates, unnie." Chanhee sighed as she smiled at your happy expression. "I'm glad he makes you happy."

"Yeah, he does."

"Who does?"

Your head quickly turned towards your favorite voice and found him—

"YAH!" You covered your eyes with your hands in panic as you saw Sehun dripping wet, a towel loosely hanging around his waist. "W-Why would you come out with just that?!"

"Unnie? What's wrong?" Chanhee stood up and made a move to look at the window but you covered the window with your body.

"Sehun, wear your clothes before I make you!"

"Make me, noona."

Your cheeks were burning as you quickly brought down the blinds, leaving Chanhee confused beside you.

"I'm telling you!" You shrieked as you left the window open but the blinds down. You heard his annoying but sweet laugh, making you smile.

"Okay, okay. Wouldn't want Changee see her sister's boyfriend naked, would you?" He said followed by a sexy chuckle, causing Chanhee to blush. You glared at her as you pushed her out of your room.

"Unnie—"

"Just go back to your room." You mumbled, pinching her cheek as she pouted.

"You just want oppa to yourself." Chanhee stuck a tongue out to you before running back to her room. You chuckled at her before going back to your room. You turned around and went to your desk when the blinds made a sound.

You stepped back in surprise as the familiar long legs hopped out of your window. You breathe out as you reached your hands to the blinds, adjusting it up so he can enter easily. When the blinds went up, his smiling handsome face greeted you.

"Hi, babe."

You almost squealed as he spoke. Your eyes drifted to his top, your lips gapping at his exposed biceps.

"A-Aren't you cold? You're just wearing a sleeveless shirt..." You stuttered as you slightly gulped at your closeness, your feet feeling like they turned into ice. Sehun curled up into a smirk as he stretched his arms on his sides, looking around as he observed your room.

"I'm not cold, noona. I'm perfectly fine. But..." The remaining distance was closed as Sehun took a step towards you, instantly just a breath away from you. "...you can make me warm too, if you want."

"You're still a pervert, I see."

You chuckled nervously as you tugged the swivel chair beside you, moving to sit on it when Sehun beat you to it. You stared at him incredulously as he started checking your laptop out, scrolling the sensory mouse seriously as if you're not glaring daggers at him.

"Excuse me—"

Sehun just leaned his back on the chair, presenting his lap to you as he continued reading your mails. You scoffed at the young man, trying to push him away from your desk when his arms snaked around your waist and pulled you down to him.

"Mmm." Sehun hummed as he nuzzled his nose on your neck, his fingers making shapes on your stomach.

You stared at your laptop in front of you, not knowing how to react with what's happening. You felt waves of pleasure and satisfaction under his gentle touch that you just don't want to move and let him do whatever.

"Uhm." You cleared your throat as you felt it dry, feeling his biceps under your arms.

Oh my god.

"You're not working, right? Play with Sehunnie, noona."

You're not weak, Yeoreum. Come on, you can avoid this living temptation!

"W-What game?" You stuttered as you wetted your suddenly dried lips. You felt his chest vibrate, his breathy laugh tickling your neck. His lips collided with the skin connecting your neck and shoulder, giving shivers to your nerves. "Y-Yah."

"You're gonna play with me then?"

You gulped as his kisses went up to your ear, his tongue slightly licking the skin under it.

Where are you my strength when I need you?!

"I-It depends on what game are we gonna play." You managed to chuckle even though you're having a breakdown inside.

"Let's—"

"NOONA!"

You sighed in relief as your younger brother entered your room, jaw dropping at the sight. You quickly stood up despite the tight grip Sehun has on you, causing him to whine at the lack of warmth from you.

"W-WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?!" Chanyeol started panicking as he stomped his way towards his best friend. "YOU WERE SEDUCING MY SISTER!" He accused, pointing at Sehun, who just stared at him with a frown.

"I hate you." Sehun mumbled, feeling disappointed that he got disturbed with his time with you.

"YOU HEARD THAT, NOONA?! SEHUN SAID—"

You laughed at the amusing scene as you went to your door, waving your brother off.

"I'm gonna get my hanbok in the storage. Behave, you two."

Sehun smiled at you before mouthing at you.

"I love you."

Your cheeks flushed as you saw Chanyeol turning to you with a frown.

"I love you too." You said before walking fast to the storage downstairs.

Chanyeol groaned in annoyance as he saw Sehun ginning in victory. He hit his best friend on his shoulder, pinching his cheek after.

"Yah! What?!" Sehun complained as Chanyeol crossed his arms.

"You didn't do anything sensual, did you?!"

Sehun smirked as he leaned his back on your swivel chair, turning around and around, completely annoying the hell out of your brother.

"YAH!"

"Why are you so curious? Mind your own business, Yeol." Sehun laughed as his fingers played with his lip.

"Hmph. Just make her happy with simple things, that's enough." Chanyeol huffed as he sat on your bed.

"I know that."

Silence took over the room, creating a heavy and gloomy atmosphere between the two.

"Should I tell her?" Sehun said, almost barely heard by the other.

"Tell her what?"

"That I know everything."

Chanyeol bit her lower lip as he looked down, thinking how you'll take it when you knew Sehun knows about your condition. He ruffled his hair before closing his eyes.

"I don't know, bro." He mumbled. "I really don't know."

Sehun breathed out a long sigh before looking at your calendar.

I hope the days get slower, that way I can have you much longer.

✗ ❥ ✗ ❥ ✗ ❥ ✗ ❥ ✗

"Wahhh! You're so pretty, unnie!"

Bora and Soyu went to you as you and your siblings got out of the house. Dasom was talking on the phone, probably with her boyfriend. You're all dressed in formal hanbok for the festival tonight except Chanyeol. You're just gonna walk to the place since the event will take place near Han River, which is two blocks away from your house.

"Thank you. You're both beautiful as usual." You smiled as they gaze at your outfit. Their eyes widened as they drifted towards the person at your back.

"Omo! Sehun oppa!" Bora squealed as Soyu clapped her hands in surprise.

"You're coming with us too?!" Soyu asked excitedly, seeing the guy dressed in casual attire like Chanyeol.

"Yep. Gotta guard my girl here." Sehun grinned as he swiftly took your hand in his. You blushed at the contact. You're still not used to this public display of affection but you kinda like it.

"Kyaaahhh!" The girls squealed as they move like worms getting fed with salt. Chanyeol frowned, moving towards you to grab your other hand when Chanhee blocked him.

"What?" He huffed.

"Let the couple alone! Don't you know the rules?!" Chanhee exclaimed as you all started walking, you and Sehun on the lead.

"Rules?!"

"Yes! Everyone knows that if you see a couple together, leave them alone because they'll get conscious if they have audience watching how they show their affection towards each other." Chanhee scoffed at her brother's common sense, making her friends giggle at the background.

"That's right, Chanyeol. Let them be." Dasom mumbled with a smile as her sisters held both of her hands, swaying them playfully.

Chanyeol glanced at you and Sehun, seeing how his best friend talk to you with a smile that wouldn't falter even just for a second. You slightly jabbed Sehun's stomach as he told you another dirty joke about something you don't even want to remember.

You look so happy.

Chanyeol can live with that.

"Omo! Look at that bear! I want that!" Bora shouted over the noise, waving at Chanhee and Chanyeol to follow.

You and Sehun were already out of their sights, causing Chanyeol to panic as he looks around.

"Oh come on! Sehun oppa wouldn't do anything bad to unnie! Have some faith on your best friend!" Chanhee laughed as she tugged him towards her friends and Dasom.

Chanyeol reluctantly let his little sister drag him to wherever, his lips pouting as he couldn't see you through the crowd.

On the other side, Sehun led you through the sea of people, an arm protectively around you as the other made way for you two. He mumbles 'excuse me' to the people in your way, slightly bowing in respect. You smiled as he acted like he's the older one between the two of you.

After a few turns, you both finally got a place near the river, escaping the busy crowd surrounding the festival booths. You laughed with Sehun as you leaned on the railings, where a few people were hanging out, waiting for the fireworks display in a few moments.

"Do you want a drink? I'll buy you bubble tea." Sehun said as he wiped the sweat trickling down your chin. You silently observed the water below, the lights from the city illuminating in their reflection on it. The wind blowing your hair, some strands hitting your cheeks and nose, making Sehun chuckle as he watched you flinch.

"You should've tied your hair into a ponytail. Your hair looks messy now." Sehun gently tucked the stray strands of your hair behind your ear, his other arm still around your waist.

"Does it look bad?" You slowly turned to him, blinking your eyes rapidly as he stared at you. Sehun's fingers traced your cheek, barely touching your skin but the tingles under your nerves were conspicuous to you.

"You never look bad, baby." Sehun mumbled as he leaned his forehead on yours, his hot breath fanning your face, causing tints of red spread on your cheeks. He chuckled as he pressed your body closer to his, his hands rubbing your back as they give warmth on your skin.

"Really, huh?" You laughed as you playfully poked his cheek. He smiled, his eyes forming crescents as if they're smiling at you too. "You're too cute."

"Am I?" Sehun frowned, his lips just inches from yours. "You haven't seen the other part of me, noona."

"What other part? Your much cuter part?" You giggled as you felt like you're the only ones here, the people becomes blurred and only Sehun was clear in your sight.

"No, babe." Sehun pressed his lips on the corner of your mouth, making you close your eyes as you smiled. "The other part where I can show you more affection than this."

When he pulled back, he nuzzled his nose on yours with a soft smile.

"I'm the happiest whatever part you show me though." You mumbled, your fingers reaching out for his messy hair. The sleeve of your hanbok slightly tickling his cheek, causing you to giggle as he frowned.

"I love every part of you, Sehun."

Sehun met your eyes once again, seeing how happy your eyes were and how beautiful you are to him.

He's so grateful to have you in his arms like this.

"I love you, noona." Sehun said as his eyes welled up. He didn't know why he feels like this but his heart was already crying and breaking.

Why does it hurt to say those words that I've always wanted to say to her?

You smiled as you caressed his face, your eyes never leaving his.

I love this guy.

"I love you too."

As those words left your mouth, a loud bang was heard as the fireworks exploded in the dark sky, welcoming the new season, Spring.

Sehun met your lips as the sounds seem nothing in your ears, your focus was only on him. You didn't care if everyone was watching or someone was filming you two.

All you can feel, see and touch was him.

You were smiling as he gently took your lower lip in between his own, you felt like you're complete.

But everything stopped.

You pulled away from him as you brought your fist on top of your chest, your vision turned blurry as you whimpered in pain.

"Noona."

"Noona! Stay with me, okay?!"

"Unnie!"

"Yeoreum-ah! Breathe in, breathe out! Come on, follow me!"

You heard voices around you, their desperate tones were trying to wake you up as you close your eyes. You felt your cheeks wet but you knew you weren't crying.

Someone was crying for you again.

Your heart was rapidly pumping on your chest, almost knocking the breath out of you.

That's when the darkness took you and pulled you into a deep slumber.

Sehun cried as he hopped inside his car, quickly following your father's car with Chanyeol driving, heading towards the nearest hospital. His vision was slightly blurred as he drove but he didn't care.

He needs to get to you.

"You can't leave me. You can't." Sehun mumbled as he swiftly passed the stoplight, not caring about the laws at the moment. "You'll be okay. You will."

It's too short.

You've only spent 2 months with him, that's unfair.

He wants to spend the rest of his life with you but he knows that's not possible now.

Sehun's heart was aching as he ran towards the emergency room, his fists colliding with the glass as the doctors took you away. Chanyeol grabbed his best friend to refrain him from causing a commotion despite Sehun's struggles.

"Sehun!" Chanyeol shouted as he pushed his best friend away from the glass door. "Stop!"

"She'll be okay, right? She will be, right?!" Sehun panted like he ran for miles when he's just keeping the painful cry come out from his throat. "Tell me!"

Chanyeol's cheeks were tainted with his own tears but he managed to look strong and okay when he's really breaking down inside.

"She will be okay, Sehun. Noona's strong." Chanyeol nodded as if he's convincing himself instead of his best friend. "It's not time yet."

Your mother stood up from her seat and went to the weeping boy.

"Sehun-ah, let's just calm down and sit, okay? Yeoreum won't be happy to see you like this when she gets out of there." Ga-in smiled as if tears weren't flowing down her cheeks. Sehun stared into her eyes and nodded, letting your mother lead him to the bench, where your sister and her friends with Dasom sat, crying as they comforted each other.

Your father was inside the emergency room with the other doctors, checking your condition bravely as if he's not breaking too.

"Now, all we can do is wait and pray." Ga-in clasped her hands together as she closed her eyes. "It's too early for her to leave." She whispered, her voice hoarse and in pain.

Sehun propped his elbows on his knees as he place his hands on his face. Chanyeol sat beside him, leaning his head back on the wall with a sniff.

They were all thinking of the same thing.

Please let her be okay.

—

Fluffy’s note: I don't know if it's heartbreaking enough but well, 😪 I'm saving the best for last. 😏 I really cried when I was writing the last part before, I don't know I'm just emotional, I guess. 😭 I'm sorry if I made your heart flutter in the clouds and dropped it in a second. Don't worry, I'll pay for it. 😭👍🏻

#WillYouLiveOrDie lol 😂

#MyPoorBabySehun 😭

—

❥ Ch.25

[dreadhaus-literature]

{January Collection} #8

A River the Color of Sunset 

Theme: Tender Tuesday

Monica gave a frustrated sigh, swiping one nail under her eye carelessly, angrily, to dispel the tear she didn’t want to shed. This was ridiculous, she didn’t want to be upset and there didn’t even really seem to be a reason for her to be upset in the first place. For one with such a beautifully logical mind, crying while sitting on the side of a bridge, far outside the city, was about as low and pathetic as it got--and there was no one around to dispel that untrue thought, to stop her from further tearing herself down.Monica’s glassy eyes caught the sunlight, trapping it against watery emerald as the sun began to kiss the horizon. It would be dark, soon, and she shouldn’t be out here alone when the sun fell, but who cares, right? It doesn’t matter. She didn’t care what happened at this point; the sky was falling and cracking the ground she was standing on, leaving her grasping at the edges of her grave wondering why she was even bothering trying to hold on.

Life was tough, a struggle, a boxing match comparative to a featherweight versus the reigning heavyweight champion, and Monica was tired of fighting. It was easier to give up, to give in to what her brain was telling her was fact. Negative thoughts circled like sharks drawn in toward a wounded animal and Monica didn’t think she had it in her to fight them off, this time. Why, what would be the point? Sharks, like wolves, always come back. If she fought them off today, she’d just be waking up tomorrow to them circling close again. Monica shifted, pretending the bite of the creeping cold wasn’t bothering her because she didn’t want to move. All that was awaiting her was the subway ride back to her empty apartment, back to the dredging grind of adult life and that was part of what put her here in the first place. As a child, the world seems like a giant playground, a place where you can grow safely until you’re tall enough to reach the monkey bars on your own, to swing to where you want to go and land safely to be on your way. As you grow, you realize the monkey bars are further apart than you first thought them to be, leaving you dangling helplessly on one bar for so long you feel stuck, trapped by your own life. One can only enjoy the view in the same place for so long before scenery starts to turn gray and you start to lose the will, the want to hold on to the bar. It would be easier to just let go. Monica glanced at the river far below. It would be better to just let go.

“Sunsets are really pretty, aren’t they?”

Monica jumped in her seat, whirling to face--

“Daredevil?!”

Living in New York, in the belly of Hell’s Kitchen, there was no way Monica didn’t know who this masked vigilante was, but she was stunned to see him standing a few feet from her, looking powerful and intimidating in his iconic suit. On most, that much red would be garish and almost laughable, but there was something about Daredevil that kept one from laughing at him. Maybe it was his track record of leaving thugs and criminals so beat down they reformed out of sheer fear he’d show up a second time? Monica was on the fence when it came to superheroes dispensing permanent justice (solely because she didn’t know any superheroes personally, to talk to them about it in the first place) but she had to give Daredevil props. For someone who didn’t kill, he left enough of an impression that criminals feared the dark all the same.

“I’m sorry if I’m interrupting. If you want to be left alone, please tell me.”

Monica was a little taken aback by just how...polite he was. Daredevil was called the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen, he had a reputation despite the fact that he didn’t kill his enemies, but she hadn’t expected him to sound so sincere. Monica didn’t have a negative opinion of vigilantes like some of New York, but even she had to admit to herself she wasn’t expecting him to be nice.

“N...No, you can stay.” Monica swiped at the errant tears from her face, unaware Daredevil had a handicap. She didn’t want to look a mess in front of the infamous hero.

Matthew Murdock was able to pick up on this poor girl’s distress and he didn’t need his eyes to do so. He could scent her tears, knew from the smell of her skin she’d been crying for a little while. He could tell she was sitting slumped, her small legs over the side of the bridge, and it alarmed him. Her tears and quiet crying had been what caught his attention in the first place; he’d been perched on a building nearer the outskirts of his city when he’d first picked up the soft sound of her distress--yet to him, it had seemed louder than the sirens, the confused and angry yells of a group of muggers trying to decide who the next score would be, louder than the combined bustle of the city that never sleeps. Not because she was loud, oh no. It was because Matthew recognized that broken crying. He recognized it because it was a sound he’d made before, himself.

“May I sit?” Matthew gestured, and he heard the girl nod. His movements were slow and deliberate so as not to crowd her too much too soon, but he was determined and it showed in the firm set of his exposed, square jaw. Long legs slipped beneath the banister with ease, and he lowered himself to a spot a few inches away from where the girl was sitting, trying to hide her sniffling. He fought the urge to smile; not because he didn’t take the situation serious, but because...her sniffling was cute. It was petite, small, and reminded him of a bunny rabbit. He held out his hand. “I’m Daredevil.”

Monica wanted to laugh at the absurdity of the situation; she had been sitting, having a breakdown, and then out of nowhere Daredevil shows up. And now he’s introducing himself to her? What the hell was going on? Still, she couldn’t leave him hanging, and she shook his gloved hand. “N-Nice to meet you, Daredevil. I’m Monica.”

Daredevil smiled, effortlessly, and Monica was a little taken aback by how it offset that hellish outfit and reputation he had. “I take it, since you didn’t run away, you know who I am?”

“Don’t...people usually run away from you because they know who you are?”

Matt chuckled, a soft but genuine sound. He hadn’t been expecting that clever response but he liked it. She had a sense of humor. “You’ve got a point, but I’m just glad you didn’t.”

Monica shifted, tugging at her sleeves to busy her hands. “They say you don’t have to be afraid of the Daredevil if you aren’t doing anything wrong.”

“It’s nice to know someone in Hell’s Kitchen knows what I’m about.”

Monica was a little at a loss for words; she hadn’t expected anyone to be out and around this way, much less one of New York’s finest superheroes, and she definitely hadn’t expected him to be like this. Truth be told, she didn’t know what she expected him to be like. She risked a glance up at him, and the lowering sun set his suit ablaze, reflecting off the panels that covered his eyes, reminding her of rubies. Daredevil’s jaw was ridiculously square, overly masculine, and there was just the slightest hint of a 5 o’clock shadow beneath the skin, but that was all of him she could see. His suit covered the rest, from his nose down to his toes, but left little to the imagination--he looked like he was sculpted out of lava rock, his muscles poured into the spandex that clung to him like latex. Daredevil, especially up close, definitely looked like the kind of guy who could put you in the ground just as easily as he put you in traction for six months.

“Why are you here?” Monica blurted the question out before she could stop herself, but that was due in part to her stormy emotions. It removed the filter from her mouth, and allowed her to demand answers from the masked vigilante, who turned more fully to face her.

“What do you mean?”

“This is...about the middle of nowhere, and we’re not in Hell’s Kitchen anymore. I didn’t even know you ever left the neighborhood,” Monica added, turning back to face the sunset because she couldn’t take his unflinching, masked gaze.

“Heroes go where they’re needed.”

“And you’re needed all the way out here?”

“You needed.”

Monica’s gaze snapped back to Daredevil, but he didn’t flinch or avert his gaze. His mask stayed firmly facing her, and she wasn’t sure if the spike she felt in her chest was anger or...something else.

“There’s nothing wrong with me,” Monica denied, opting to revert to her comfort zone--ignoring how she felt, ignoring any problems, and she’d face them later or not at all. “I don’t want to sound ungrateful that you stopped, but I’m fine.”

Matt’s smile was a little sad. “You sound a lot like me.”

Monica didn’t speak, just stared at that bittersweet gesture. Daredevil did turn, then, staring out across the water.

“People will care, they’ll ask how you are, but you tell yourself it’s easier not to acknowledge how you feel. If you pretend hard enough, you can convince anyone, even yourself, that things are fine and you’re fine.” Matt’s head inclined slightly to one side. mind tuning out the rest of the world so that all he heard was Monica at his side. “Until it’s dark and you’re alone, and then it’s like nothing is fine and will never be fine again.”

Monica didn’t know what to say. Daredevil sounded like he was speaking from experience, and she hadn’t ever expected that any of Earth’s Mightiest Heroes would be able to identify with something like depression, with the feeling of hopelessness and the unending struggle of finding purpose in a world seemingly designed to drag you down.

“I lied to you, before.” Daredevil swallowed thickly, but that was the only show of hesitation before he laid himself bare. “Sunsets are beautiful, but I can’t see them.”

“W...What?” Monica was in disbelief. “You...You’re blind?!”

Daredevil chuckled. “You’ve got a beautiful voice.”

Monica’s cheeks tinted immediately, and she turned away from him fast enough it was audible.

“I’m sorry if that’s inappropriate to say,” Matt continued. “We’re having a serious conversation and I’m only flirting with you a little bit. Honest.”

“You are not at all what I expected from Daredevil,” Monica muttered, fighting the urge to cover her face. Daredevil was flirting with her?

“Good. I want to make my own impression on you.” Matt answered honestly. “And to answer your question, yes. I’m blind. Not a lot of people know that--”

“No one knows that!” Monica interjected. “Literally no one knows one of New York’s most notorious heroes is out every night fighting crime while blind. Which is incredibly dangerous, by the way.”

“No more dangerous than sitting on the edge of a bridge.”

“Yeah well, it would be a lot worse if something happened to you,” Monica replied bitterly. It wasn’t a cry for help or reassurance; it was the truth.

It was a hard truth to swallow, but it confirmed for Matt what he had suspected from the start. He identified with Monica because he, too, suffered from depression and he knew what it was like to sit right on the edge and wonder why it was worth living on to fight another day. She might think his life mattered more because he donned a mask and tried to keep innocent people safe, but Matt felt just the opposite, actually. He felt he never made a difference, that he was up against insurmountable odds every single day. It was the equivalent of the ancient Greek Myth, of the man doomed to push a giant boulder up the mountain every day, only for it to reach the top and roll back down the other side for him to push up again the next day. An endless struggle with no clear, objective finish line and some days he didn’t know why he did it. He didn’t have to and no one would expect it of him--especially because he was blind. He was a man of talents, of super abilities, yes, but he was still a blind man with a soul fractured by a hard life. He’d been dealt a severe handicap at a very young age for doing the right thing--what the hell kind of rap was that? And God, in His infinite wisdom, saw fit to punish him for doing the right thing, and Matt’s had a weird relationship with the Big Guy ever since. He had no way of knowing Monica’s struggles with the same religion, but Matt did feel a kinship with this poor girl and he wasn’t going to question that, or how it had worked out just perfectly that he’d been able to hear her crying, tonight, over all the other hustle and bustle. Whatever his belief in a higher power from day to day, divine intervention could just be another phrase to compliment, “everything happens for a reason.”

“I think it’d be terrible if something happened to you.” It was a simple saying, but Matt couldn’t remember the last thing he’d said that he’d meant more.

Monica just shook her head. “You have to say that. You’re a hero.”

“Not to everyone,” Daredevil answered immediately. “And a hero isn’t perfect.” He brought one gloved hand up, gesturing toward his eyes. “Obviously.”

“That doesn’t make you any less of a hero!”

“And being depressed doesn’t make your life any less meaningful.” Matt never pulled punches, and he wasn’t going to now, not when he felt he could...help save this one life. “Trust me. You may think I’m some untouchable hero but I know how you feel, what you’re going through, at least when it comes to the want to give up and how futile it feels to fight. You needed saving, tonight, so that’s why I’m here.”

Monica was a little taken aback by Daredevil finding the root of the problem, at the conversation circling back to it’s start. She hadn’t been expecting a true answer to her question, and she certainly hadn’t been expecting to have a hero save her, tonight. Daredevil wasn’t at all what she expected...but he was a hero, that much he’d proven, by opening up and...sharing such a vulnerable part of him. Monica felt she was holding a monumental secret in her hand, and she was a little stunned that he’d so willingly shared that he was blind, with her. Why? Why had he done that?

To Matt, the answer to her unspoken question was simple. He’d told her one of his best kept secrets because he wanted her to know he wasn’t untouchable. He was the same as she, fighting against all odds to cling to life, to make some sort of difference, even if their end results were different. He hadn’t even really hesitated; it was just, the thought of losing such a beautiful soul to the river below was a little more than Matthew Murdock could handle.

“The sun’s setting,” Matt lifted his head, gazing out across the water. “Is it pretty?”

Monica swallowed thickly, fighting a fresh round of tears as the real weight of this conversation with Daredevil soaked in. She nodded, then caught herself and answered. “Y-Yes.”

“And the water?”

Monica glanced down at the crystal blue; it was brilliantly lit, awash of purples and pinks, of russet orange and sparkling sapphire. “It looks like fire,” she all but whispered, and Daredevil’s mouth twisted into a small smirk. Fire, he could see, but he kept that to himself.

“Sometimes, being a hero just means doing the little things.” Matt turned, the full weight of ruby resting on Monica’s face. He could tell she was looking at him, and his smirk softened to a smile. “I’m going to have to ask you to be my hero, from here on out.”

“W-What?”

“I can’t see the sunsets, so I’m going to need you to be my eyes.” Daredevil didn’t look away, but rather held out his hand for hers. “I need you to promise that tomorrow, you’ll meet me here and we’ll watch the sunset together, again.”

Monica glanced down at his gloved hand, then back up to his face. She knew what he was doing; he was giving her a reason to go home, and a reason to get up, tomorrow. Small steps, but...ones she could accomplish. Slowly, she put her hand in his.

“Promise?” Daredevil gripped her hand tightly, needing to hear the words in that beautiful voice.

“I promise.”

[livehealthynewsusa]

What’s behind ben Simmons epic playoff meltdown?

It’s a defining moment in a close Game 7, but instead of throwing it off, Simmons fits in with teammate Matisse Thybulle in traffic.

Thybulle is fouled and goes to the line, taking only one free throw instead of the almost certain two points and one that would have come if Simmons had been fouled.

A collective moan echoes through the Wells Fargo Center. Sixers’ center Joel Embiid lowers his shoulders in frustration. The moment becomes an instant meme. The Sixers lose momentum and ultimately the game and the series. Simmons becomes a persona non grata in Philadelphia. His name is now directly on the trading block. There are reports that he won’t play for the Boomers in the Olympics.

The moment provides a snapshot of Simmons’ four year run in Philly where his failure to develop his offensive play and lack of chemistry on the court with teammate Embiid have been a constant source of frustration for fans and led to constant speculation that one the two ‘trial’ stars have to get away. After the meltdown on Monday, the calls for the dispatch of Simmons have reached fever. The problem for the Sixers is that from his chaotic performance on this series, his value may have fallen so far that they will find it difficult to make a decent return.

After the game it got ugly. Embiid tossed his teammate under the bus and found that Simmons had given up the open dunk the moment the game was lost, despite having made eight turnovers himself – to be fair, Embiid was playing on a partially torn meniscus. Coach Doc Rivers, who had defended Simmons all season, joined in, saying he didn’t know if Simmons had what it takes to be point guard on a championship team. Experts like Shaquille O’Neal, Charles Barkley and Magic Johnson piled up, all stressing the fact that the Sixers are paralyzed because they have a star with a $ 217 million contract who is out of the game due to his lack of shooting skills Can play crunch time. O’Neal even went so far as to say that if he were Simmons’ teammate he would have “knocked out his butt”.

Yes, it could be called a rough week for Australia’s biggest basketball star.

I interviewed Simmons for a cover story in Philadelphia in 2018 and have followed his career closely ever since. As a fan, Simmons’ mental breakdown and the subsequent media and internet gathering was brutal. But I have to say I share the frustrations. Simmons is the kind of enigmatic star who teases you with glimpses of his otherworldly talent in one game, only to vanish completely the next. It’s annoying, which only makes Simmons’ cool demeanor and disapproval of criticism worse.

When we showed Simmons on our cover from May 2018, he was very popular. As the next LeBron touted James, his rookie stats were gaudy – 16, 8, and 8. The problem is, Simmons has been offensive since then. That season, he logged 14, 7, and 7. To his credit, he has made himself an elite defender, joining the All-NBA Defensive First Team for the second year in a row, and second this year to Utah’s Rudy Gobert took place in the choice of Defensive Player of the Year.

I have a theory that Simmons deliberately worked on this side of his game to divert attention from his offensive stagnation. He remains an electrifying force in flux, with an amazing court vision that enables him to find teammates for open looks. It works well enough in the regular season, but in play-off time when the game slows down to a half-field chess game decided by “knights” like Devin Booker, Kawhi Leonard and Kevin Durant who take their own shot can create, Simmons becomes a burden, giving up the ball like a hot potato and lurking aimlessly in the spot of the dark. It forces Embiid to come off the post and play an open game if he should dominate on the block. It basically means the Sixers are a man on the offensive.

Simmons’ refusal to take outside shots was now compounded by his refusal to go into the basket for fear of being fouled. First the Wizards and then the Hawks employed a successful “hack-a-Simmons” strategy that took him to a record low of 34 percent in this year’s play-offs – even worse than Shaq!

Theories about Simmons’ struggles are online all over the place right now, and I’ve developed a few myself. Back when Simmons headed our cover, everyone expected his offensive play to develop, assuming he eventually started shooting threesomes. At the time, Simmons told me he was working on his jump shot and if it got better, watch out. “The thing about the shooting is that once I get it where I want it, nobody can stop me,” he said. And so we waited. Every year during the off-season, Simmons posted videos filming from the outside in training, which raised the hopes of Sixers fans only to be dashed once the season started and he was stuck. Teammates talked about how he shot the ball free in practice, hoping it would start shooting in games, but it never happened. Instead, it may have created a dichotomy between exercise and play that has become a gaping mental chasm that Simmons cannot cross.

That’s when he actually does the work. Simmons’ lack of progress on the offensive has led many to speculate (and point to his Instagram account as evidence) that he cares more about his flashy cars, dogs, and game than going to the gym and busting his Repair sweater.

ESPN’s Stephen A Smith said this week he received a text message through Simmons from someone close to the Philadelphia situation:Quote, he doesn’t work, he doesn’t listen, and everyone around him is a family and he is becoming babies all the time. “

Smith then added on SportsCenter: “They asked him for four years to improve his jump shot. He ignored coaches, he ignored assistant coaches, he ignored teammates, he ignored his agent, he ignored family members because he loved being in LA, in South Beach likes to say he went to the gym to play instead of the gym to go to work on my game. And it came back to bite him – because the only thing you can say about Ben Simmons is that he can’t shoot. “

Who knows if that’s true, but it seems likely that it was always a little too easy for Simmons. He grew up a supernaturally gifted player with absurd abilities for someone six feet tall and is the best player on any team he has ever played on. He never really had to fight, which resulted in complacency about his game and possibly a shaky work ethic. Compare him to Hawks’ point guard Trae Young, who is similarly gifted but only 6’1 inches tall. Young was told he was too small since he was a child. He had to fight every step of the way. As a result, as he showed first against the Knicks, then against the Sixers and now in Game 1 of the European Championship final against the Bucks, he is an ice-cold killer on the pitch.

Sometimes Simmons seemed a little too pleased with his game. During our interview he was defensive about his shooting and cited his stats as evidence that his game was in good shape. He seemed to be saying there was no need for improvement. “I don’t worry that much because my average is 17, 8 and 8,” he said at the time. “Boys haven’t done this in their entire careers, so if I do that in 50 games I think I’ll play well.”

But while the mental side of Simmons’ game seems to be in free fall at the moment, it’s possible that the ultimate source of his struggles lies in a mechanical problem that has evolved into a psychological problem over time. One theory popularized by The Ringer’s Kevin O’Connor is that Simmons shoots with the wrong hand. The statistics prove it: Simmons dropped the ball 67 shots with his right hand this postseason, compared to just nine shots with his left hand. That rate coincides with his career rate using his right hand, which dates back to his time at LSU, writes O’Connor.

Simmons told The New York Daily News in 2016 that his father encouraged him to photograph left-handed as an adult. “I think I should be right. But now everything is natural ”. I asked Simmons about it right away. He scoffed, then sighed in annoyance as if I’d asked him if the world was flat. “People like to make up shit,” he said. “Maybe I’m writing with the wrong hand?” There are reports that the Sixers are finally trying to address this and get Simmons to shoot with his right hand. They can do that too, because it can hardly get worse.

It is also reported there that he will use the off-season to work on “skill development” instead of representing the Boomers at the Olympics. It reminded me of what Simmons told me in 2018 when I asked him about his goals. He replied that you should win a championship, win a gold medal in the Olympics and be “the greatest player of all time”. “You have to set the bar high,” he said. Back then, those goals seemed lofty; today, they seem like pipe dreams.

The problem is, when it comes to his offensive play, I think Simmons may have set the bar too high. So high that he was afraid he would fail. Whatever your sport, once that particular seed takes root in your head, you are in mental quicksand. Simmons fired a total of four shots in Game 7 against the Hawks. You have to shoot to score. You have to take risks to progress and sometimes you have to fail to build the chip on your shoulder and the mental resilience you need to succeed. Now that he has failed on the biggest stage of all, we hope that Simmons is finally ready to overcome his physical and mental blockages. He may be in a bad position right now, but the chances are that after falling this deep, Simmons is right where he needs to be: a player with nothing to lose.

source https://livehealthynews.com/whats-behind-ben-simmons-epic-playoff-meltdown/

[dailyhealthynews]

What’s behind ben Simmons epic playoff meltdown?

It’s a defining moment in a close Game 7, but instead of throwing it off, Simmons fits in with teammate Matisse Thybulle in traffic.

Thybulle is fouled and goes to the line, taking only one free throw instead of the almost certain two points and one that would have come if Simmons had been fouled.

A collective moan echoes through the Wells Fargo Center. Sixers’ center Joel Embiid lowers his shoulders in frustration. The moment becomes an instant meme. The Sixers lose momentum and ultimately the game and the series. Simmons becomes a persona non grata in Philadelphia. His name is now directly on the trading block. There are reports that he won’t play for the Boomers in the Olympics.

The moment provides a snapshot of Simmons’ four year run in Philly where his failure to develop his offensive play and lack of chemistry on the court with teammate Embiid have been a constant source of frustration for fans and led to constant speculation that one the two ‘trial’ stars have to get away. After the meltdown on Monday, the calls for the dispatch of Simmons have reached fever. The problem for the Sixers is that from his chaotic performance on this series, his value may have fallen so far that they will find it difficult to make a decent return.

After the game it got ugly. Embiid tossed his teammate under the bus and found that Simmons had given up the open dunk the moment the game was lost, despite having made eight turnovers himself – to be fair, Embiid was playing on a partially torn meniscus. Coach Doc Rivers, who had defended Simmons all season, joined in, saying he didn’t know if Simmons had what it takes to be point guard on a championship team. Experts like Shaquille O’Neal, Charles Barkley and Magic Johnson piled up, all stressing the fact that the Sixers are paralyzed because they have a star with a $ 217 million contract who is out of the game due to his lack of shooting skills Can play crunch time. O’Neal even went so far as to say that if he were Simmons’ teammate he would have “knocked out his butt”.

Yes, it could be called a rough week for Australia’s biggest basketball star.

I interviewed Simmons for a cover story in Philadelphia in 2018 and have followed his career closely ever since. As a fan, Simmons’ mental breakdown and the subsequent media and internet gathering was brutal. But I have to say I share the frustrations. Simmons is the kind of enigmatic star who teases you with glimpses of his otherworldly talent in one game, only to vanish completely the next. It’s annoying, which only makes Simmons’ cool demeanor and disapproval of criticism worse.

When we showed Simmons on our cover from May 2018, he was very popular. As the next LeBron touted James, his rookie stats were gaudy – 16, 8, and 8. The problem is, Simmons has been offensive since then. That season, he logged 14, 7, and 7. To his credit, he has made himself an elite defender, joining the All-NBA Defensive First Team for the second year in a row, and second this year to Utah’s Rudy Gobert took place in the choice of Defensive Player of the Year.

I have a theory that Simmons deliberately worked on this side of his game to divert attention from his offensive stagnation. He remains an electrifying force in flux, with an amazing court vision that enables him to find teammates for open looks. It works well enough in the regular season, but in play-off time when the game slows down to a half-field chess game decided by “knights” like Devin Booker, Kawhi Leonard and Kevin Durant who take their own shot can create, Simmons becomes a burden, giving up the ball like a hot potato and lurking aimlessly in the spot of the dark. It forces Embiid to come off the post and play an open game if he should dominate on the block. It basically means the Sixers are a man on the offensive.

Simmons’ refusal to take outside shots was now compounded by his refusal to go into the basket for fear of being fouled. First the Wizards and then the Hawks employed a successful “hack-a-Simmons” strategy that took him to a record low of 34 percent in this year’s play-offs – even worse than Shaq!

Theories about Simmons’ struggles are online all over the place right now, and I’ve developed a few myself. Back when Simmons headed our cover, everyone expected his offensive play to develop, assuming he eventually started shooting threesomes. At the time, Simmons told me he was working on his jump shot and if it got better, watch out. “The thing about the shooting is that once I get it where I want it, nobody can stop me,” he said. And so we waited. Every year during the off-season, Simmons posted videos filming from the outside in training, which raised the hopes of Sixers fans only to be dashed once the season started and he was stuck. Teammates talked about how he shot the ball free in practice, hoping it would start shooting in games, but it never happened. Instead, it may have created a dichotomy between exercise and play that has become a gaping mental chasm that Simmons cannot cross.

That’s when he actually does the work. Simmons’ lack of progress on the offensive has led many to speculate (and point to his Instagram account as evidence) that he cares more about his flashy cars, dogs, and game than going to the gym and busting his Repair sweater.

ESPN’s Stephen A Smith said this week he received a text message through Simmons from someone close to the Philadelphia situation:Quote, he doesn’t work, he doesn’t listen, and everyone around him is a family and he is becoming babies all the time. “

Smith then added on SportsCenter: “They asked him for four years to improve his jump shot. He ignored coaches, he ignored assistant coaches, he ignored teammates, he ignored his agent, he ignored family members because he loved being in LA, in South Beach likes to say he went to the gym to play instead of the gym to go to work on my game. And it came back to bite him – because the only thing you can say about Ben Simmons is that he can’t shoot. “

Who knows if that’s true, but it seems likely that it was always a little too easy for Simmons. He grew up a supernaturally gifted player with absurd abilities for someone six feet tall and is the best player on any team he has ever played on. He never really had to fight, which resulted in complacency about his game and possibly a shaky work ethic. Compare him to Hawks’ point guard Trae Young, who is similarly gifted but only 6’1 inches tall. Young was told he was too small since he was a child. He had to fight every step of the way. As a result, as he showed first against the Knicks, then against the Sixers and now in Game 1 of the European Championship final against the Bucks, he is an ice-cold killer on the pitch.

Sometimes Simmons seemed a little too pleased with his game. During our interview he was defensive about his shooting and cited his stats as evidence that his game was in good shape. He seemed to be saying there was no need for improvement. “I don’t worry that much because my average is 17, 8 and 8,” he said at the time. “Boys haven’t done this in their entire careers, so if I do that in 50 games I think I’ll play well.”

But while the mental side of Simmons’ game seems to be in free fall at the moment, it’s possible that the ultimate source of his struggles lies in a mechanical problem that has evolved into a psychological problem over time. One theory popularized by The Ringer’s Kevin O’Connor is that Simmons shoots with the wrong hand. The statistics prove it: Simmons dropped the ball 67 shots with his right hand this postseason, compared to just nine shots with his left hand. That rate coincides with his career rate using his right hand, which dates back to his time at LSU, writes O’Connor.

Simmons told The New York Daily News in 2016 that his father encouraged him to photograph left-handed as an adult. “I think I should be right. But now everything is natural ”. I asked Simmons about it right away. He scoffed, then sighed in annoyance as if I’d asked him if the world was flat. “People like to make up shit,” he said. “Maybe I’m writing with the wrong hand?” There are reports that the Sixers are finally trying to address this and get Simmons to shoot with his right hand. They can do that too, because it can hardly get worse.

It is also reported there that he will use the off-season to work on “skill development” instead of representing the Boomers at the Olympics. It reminded me of what Simmons told me in 2018 when I asked him about his goals. He replied that you should win a championship, win a gold medal in the Olympics and be “the greatest player of all time”. “You have to set the bar high,” he said. Back then, those goals seemed lofty; today, they seem like pipe dreams.

The problem is, when it comes to his offensive play, I think Simmons may have set the bar too high. So high that he was afraid he would fail. Whatever your sport, once that particular seed takes root in your head, you are in mental quicksand. Simmons fired a total of four shots in Game 7 against the Hawks. You have to shoot to score. You have to take risks to progress and sometimes you have to fail to build the chip on your shoulder and the mental resilience you need to succeed. Now that he has failed on the biggest stage of all, we hope that Simmons is finally ready to overcome his physical and mental blockages. He may be in a bad position right now, but the chances are that after falling this deep, Simmons is right where he needs to be: a player with nothing to lose.

source https://dailyhealthynews.ca/whats-behind-ben-simmons-epic-playoff-meltdown/

[hriemens]

Little Love

Little Love: A Journey through Space, Time and Love

A ten-minute play by Hendrik Riemens.

Copyright (c) 2017 This screenplay may not be used or reproduced without the express written permission of the author.

{Lights up on Mary and Jerry, who are frantically pacing back-and-forth in the middle of their living room. Something they find traumatic has clearly just taken place. They are centerstage right}

Mary:

Oh Jerry, I’m worried.

Jerry:

I know Mary, I know. I’m worried too, believe it or not.

Mary:

He’s just never behaved like this before. This is so unlike him.

Jerry:

What can I say Mary? We raised a strong boy. A rebel. A rolling-stone. He obeys no man and kneels to no creator.

Mary:

But to do something like this? Something so violent, so rash, so insensitive? I just, I can’t believe it.

Jerry:

I’m sorry honey. And I’m even sorrier to tell you it’ll probably happen again/

Mary:

OH NO! {Nearly faints, but like, not at all. She’s fine} If he slams another door in this house I’ll really faint!

Jerry:

Perhaps it’d be best if we give him some alone time.

Mary:

Or perhaps we should talk to him, show him that we’re there for him and that we still love him.

Jerry:

Oh drop the act woman! It’s not the end of the world for Christ’s sake. Mary you gotta keep it together. We need to show a firm hand right now... Jesus H. Fuck, you really put the mother in smother, you know that—

{Jerry gets interrupted as lights go out on Stage Right and immediately lights go up on Stage Left, where downstage, a lot closer to the audience than his parents, appears a young boy}

Ezekiel:

I’m sorry, you’ll have to excuse my father. He’s just one of those people. But, to his defense, so is my mother... hm... {Begins to ponder which of his parents is actually weirder} You know, I guess they’re both pretty peculiar. Oh, wait, where are my manners, I’m so sorry, Hi! I’m Ezekiel, the 10 year old child of Jerry and Mary Cook. If you didn’t quite understand what you just witnessed earlier, allow me to clarify: I just slammed a door on my parents for the first time. What you saw seconds ago was the inevitably-ugly aftermath. However, it’s all their fault. You see, my family can be a very volatile combination when we’re all together, thus we try to refrain from spending time together outside of daily meals, family reunions, etc. It’s not as bad as it sounds, really. We’re not a bad family, we don’t dislike each other, not at all. We care about and love each other, really, but just... put us all in a room together and you may as well be trying to recreate scenes from the Potsdam Conference. {Whispers} For those of you that don’t know what the Potsdam Conference is, it means Stalin, Truman and Churchill in the same room. {Whispers a little lower} For those of you that don’t know who Stalin, Truman or Churchill are, please leave right now. So, as I was saying, I think this might be the moment where some background on the three dynamic Cooks might help give you a better understanding of the bigger picture. Let’s begin with Mary Cook. {Spotlight on Mary Cook, who is standing stage right. She’s got a big smile on. Oh Mary} My Mom’s quite simple: of the two, she loves me the most, for she always dreamt of having her first-born be a boy, something her school-mates used to make fun of for some reason. Growing up she really wanted to be a musician, and unlike most successful musicians, actually went to school for it. But, you know, once Jerry shagged her up and I came into the picture, it was time for dreams to become reality and my mom decided to give up music in order to raise me full time. As it happens, it was a very good decision, for I turned out to be quite the handful. On the flip side, one of my favorite childhood memories is me “bathing” in the kitchen sink as I watched my mom cooking while she sang Josephine Baker’s “Don’t Touch Me Tomato” {In the background, Mary Cook begins to lightly but beautifully sing “Don’t Touch Me Tomato” by Josephine Baker}. Next, there’s Jerry Cook. The 8th of the eight Cook boys, my Dad’s always felt like he’s had to show {Imitating Jerry earlier} “a firm hand.” Because of this he’s got quirky rules behind what a man has to do to be respected, such as:

{Spotlight on Jerry Cook who is standing next to Mary Cook, yet they are not conscious of each others’ closeness. Jerry begins to demonstrate}

Jerry:

A respected man is he who takes a spoonful of vinegar like it’s a glass of water. A respected man is he who walks on rocks and other sharp and potentially-skin-cutting objects barefoot. A respected man is he who depends on no jacket during the winter, for the cold is only felt by the weak. In fact, a respected man is he who is never cold. That’s simpler. Maybe I should just say that?

Ezekiel:

He’s also not very smart, and only named me Ezekiel because he told his very religious in-laws that his favorite Bible passage was Ezekiel 25:17. Sadly enough, despite watching Pulp Fiction numerous times with subtitles, he still mis-spelled my name on my birth certificate, so I’m technically named “Ezikil.”

Lastly, there’s me, Ezekiel. I’m no genius, but I do have a photographic memory, which has meant that in my last 10 years of life I’ve jumped one grade level, making me the youngest member of my 6th grade class. I’ve won five Spelling-Bees at a national level. I speak three different languages, English, Spanish and French, which really comes in handy every time my dad tries to miseducate the rest of my already-uneducated family by lying and saying stuff like “Adieu” is “goodbye” in Spanish. But, most importantly, I remember perfectly every passing second of my life since I met my soulmate the first day of school in 6th grade Algebra, Georgina Duke {Lights off on Jerry and Mary Cook, as the spotlight moves center stage wherein stands Georgina Duke, a pretty blonde girl, wearing a pretty dress. She’s your typical Middle School crush. You can picture it yourself}. You see, despite all the great background information I’ve just given you on my myself and the two maniacs that have both birthed and raised me, the root of this story lies in Georgina Duke. Georgina was like no one I’d seen before in my life, she was angel-like {Georgina Duke puts on a Halo}, and her hair flowed like a peaceful river {Georgina shakes her head, which moves her hair like a “peaceful river”}, and her voice was even prettier than my mom’s {Georgina says “Hi”}.

Georgina:

Hi!

Ezekiel:

You see? Beautiful! And, as it turns out, Georgina is a visionary just like me, and when I confessed my undying love for her behind the school bleachers on the 2nd week anniversary of my having seen her angelic face in Algebra class, she said:

{Lights up on centerstage, where Georgina and Ezekiel stand in front of bleachers. Ezekiel is on his knees holding a Ring-Pop}

Georgina:

Oh my god Ezekiel, no man in my life has ever been as romantic as you. Who cares what others might think. I might be 11 years old and you might be 10. But you know what? To hell with society. Time is relative and age is just a number. Now give me that Ring-Pop you sly devil.

Ezekiel:

Georgina, as long as you’re by my side, you will have as many Ring-Pops and Capri Sun juice packs as your little heart desires.

{Lights back to Ezekiel on downstage left} 

So, since there was clearly nothing in our work lives that would interfere with our love for each other, and we were clearly prepared to take our relationship to the next level, Georgina and I decided to put our passion and longing for each other to the test:

Ezekiel and Georgina:

We shall wait until our four month anniversary to finally kiss each other.

Ezekiel:

To little surprise, our love-candle’s light never dimmed or weakened. On the contrary, it only shined brighter and burnt slower as we got to know each other intellectually. For example, we found out that Georgina and I have a lot of the same hobbies, which in my eyes only made her more beautiful. These hobbies include (As Ezekiel states the hobbies, the centerstage Georgina and Ezekiel re-appear and they demonstrate what all the hobbies look like): astronomy, stamp collecting, cartography, playing the board game “Risk” competitively, playing the board game “Monopoly” recreationally, watching Youtube videos of Neil deGrasse Tyson, and last but not least, making fun of our parents.

{Lights out on centerstage Georgina and Ezekiel}

Now, as the big day drew closer and closer, Georgina and I set certain ground rules and expectations to make the occasion picture perfect.

{Lights back on centerstage Georgina and Ezekiel}

Georgina:

It must be in a private location

Ezekiel:

And an intimate one as well

Georgina:

There will be no touching of anything other than the face

Ezekiel:

And for sanitation reasons must not last longer than 22 minutes. Agreed?

Georgina: 

Agreed

Ezekiel:

Are your parents out of town that day?

Georgina:

No. Yours?

Ezekiel:

No. Nevertheless, my parents go to the supermarket every Wednesday from 3 to 4:30. I could just tell them I’ll take the bus home 

Georgina:

And we go to your house 

Ezekiel:

Together

Georgina:

And we kiss there

Ezekiel:

Yes

Georgina: 

Yes

Ezekiel:

Are you comfortable with that? 

Georgina: 

Yes. Are you?

Ezekiel:

Yes.

Georgina: 

Agreed then. Your house from 3 to 4:30.

{Back to stage left Ezekiel}

So, as I told you a while back, the mental breakdown my parents were having at the beginning of our journey through space, time and love, was all their fault, for moments before Georgina and I were about to taste each other’s sweet sweet angelic lips, I heard two dreaded calls:

{Lights up on centerstage Georgina and Ezekiel, in Ezekiel’s bedroom, about to kiss. And, lights up on stage right Mary and Jerry}

Mary:

Ezekiel, baby, is that you? 

Jerry:

E-Z, boy are you home? 

Georgina:

Are those your parents?

Ezekiel:

I swear Georgina, they weren’t meant to be home.

Georgina:

We agreed on privacy and intimacy Ezekiel.

Ezekiel:

Worry not my Princess. I’ll take care of this. {Centerstage Ezekiel exits his bedroom to face his parents} Mother and Father, I asked that I not be disturbed till the latest hour of supper for I’ve gotten my first ever A- today in school. Please, keep your adult shenanigans to the minimum as I’m in dire need of peace and tranquility. That’ll be all. Thank you and goodbye {Centerstage Ezekiel goes back into his room and promptly slams the door shut. Instead of checking up on him, they begin to have the dialogue sequence from the beginning of the play. His plan worked. Lights back on stage right Ezekiel}

You see, if Jerry and Mary had just been in the supermarket like they were supposed to, I would have never had to slam my bedroom door on them or even lied to them—I obviously didn’t get an A- on anything, I mean, cmon. But hey, sometimes you gotta risk it {Lights back on centerstage Georgina and Ezekiel}, to get the biscuit {Centerstage Georgina and Ezekiel kiss. As previously agreed, only touching each other’s faces}.

The End.

[secretshinigami]

After the Warehouse

Author: KawaiiPsycho101 For: SlytherinPirate Pairings/Characters: No pairings; Japanese Task Force and SPK. Rating/Warnings: Rated T for character death and brief violence. Prompt: To prevent spoilers, I’ve listed the prompt at the end of the story. Author’s Notes: Spoilers for the end of the series. I’d also like to sincerely apologize for the rushed nature of this story. I had put this off until the last minute, and I’m afraid it shows. I will take better care in the future to plan my schedule accordingly should I do something like this again. Still, I hope you all enjoy.

It was over.

After six long years, Kira’s reign had finally come to an end, although there were only eight people in the world who knew this for a fact. They were gathered in a warehouse near Daikoku Wharf known as the Yellow Box. Their names were Touta Matsuda, Kanzo Mogi, Shuichi Aizawa, Hideki Ide, Hal Bullook, Stephen Loud, Anthony Carter, and Nate River (although he preferred to be called ‘Near’). The bodies of the serial killer known as Kira, Light Yagami, and his loyal follower, Teru Mikami, had just been taken away by the paramedics. A pile of gasoline-soaked notebooks lay at the group’s feet. Near lit a match and threw it on the pile. It went up instantly. They all watched the fire burn and listened to the flames crackle in silence.

Once the notebooks were nothing put a pile of ashes, a tall broad American man put out the blaze with an extinguisher.

“So,” Aizawa said, “That’s it, then.”

“Yes,” Near nodded, “It’s over.”

“What are we going to tell their families?”

Matsuda visibly stiffened.

“I’ll leave that up to you, just as long as it’s not the truth; the events of today must never leave this room, no matter what.”

“He’s right,” Ide muttered, “Even if we did tell, no one would ever believe us.”

“True.” Near gathered his finger-puppets and stood up. “We’ll contact you if we ever need your assistance again. Goodbye.”

And with that, everyone parted ways.

**************************************** 

“Well, that’s the last of it.”

Stephen sealed the last of the boxes containing all the information the SPK had gathered during their side of the Kira investigation. Near had asked him and Hal to clear out the headquarters and their computers while he and Commander Carter went back to the United States. They were probably just now reaching the airport.

“Finally,” his companion sighed, exhausted. “I’ll take these boxes and you can take those. We should be able to do it in one trip.”

“Right.”

Together, they made their way to the elevator, arms loaded with boxes and suitcases. As the doors closed behind them and the small shuttle began its descent from the twenty-seventh floor of the hotel, Hal turned to her colleague.

“Stephen?”

“Hmm?”

“I was wondering-”

SNAP!

She never got to finish her sentence.

The elevator plunged down the shaft, reaching speeds that made the passengers of the inside of the chamber experience what almost felt like weightlessness. The two dropped what they were holding and held onto the railing tightly. As the ground floor neared, Stephen reached out and grabbed Hal, pulling her towards him. He wrapped his arms around her, hoping that maybe she would survive if he absorbed most of the impact for her.

In the end, it didn’t matter.

It would take the authorities a few days to identify the remains, and they would later deem the accident the result of a one-a-million malfunction.

************************************** 

While Hal Bullook and Stephen Loud were on their way to the elevator, Hideki Ide was unlocking the front door of his house. He and Mogi had just finished clearing out the Japanese Task Force’s own headquarters for the Kira investigation while Matsuda and Aizawa went to break the news of Light’s death to his mother and younger sister, along with his fiancé and former second Kira, Misa Amane. They had all decided to tell them that Light had been killed by Kira, while Mikami’s few friends and friendly would be told that he had committed suicide after suffering a nervous breakdown. It wasn’t very far from the truth.

Ide had admired the way Matsuda had volunteered to be the one to inform them of Light’s demise. He had reasoned that since he was already a well-liked acquaintance of the family, it only seemed natural that he be the one to tell them, even though it was clear to everyone that it was the last thing on Earth he wanted to do. Aizawa had probably sensed this as well, for he quickly volunteered to go as well.

Bzzzt-bzzzt.

Ide was knocked out of his thoughts by the vibrations of his cell phone in his front pocket, which he quickly answered.

“Hello?”

“Ide? It’s Fukawa,” Akira Fukawa was the current chief of the National Police Agency. “There’s been an accident at the Plaza Hotel. Apparently one of the elevators malfunctioned and fell over twenty stories. At least two people are dead. I want you to go over there and check it out. I know you’re off duty, but you’re the closet one to the Plaza right now.”

Ide wanted to tell the Chief to find someone else to do it, that he’d had his fair share of death for one day, but since he couldn’t, all he did was sigh and say that he’d be there as soon as he could. As he headed back to his car, he noticed two small boys playing a game of soccer in the front yard of the house across the street from his. One of them kicked the ball too hard, sending it into the street. The other one ran blindly after it, unaware of the truck speeding down the road.

Before he knew it, he was sprinting towards the child. The last thing he saw before the truck struck him was the boy’s body being hurled back onto his lawn from the force of Ide’s push.

******************************************** 

Kanzo Mogi chucked back his fifth shot of scotch with a grimace. He was sitting in his second-floor bedroom, trying to get the image of a bleeding and screaming Light Yagami out of his head. So far, it seemed that it would take all the alcohol on the planet just to dim the picture a little. He decided that maybe a bath would calm his nerves a little.

As he was undressing, he heard his phone ringing in the other room.

“Of course,” he muttered to himself before going to answer it. He looked at the caller ID and saw that it was Matsuda. “What is it, Matsuda?”

“Mogi, there’s been an accident! Ide’s in the hospital!”

“What?!”

“He got hit by a car saving a little kid. We were just leaving Light’s house when we heard. We probably won’t get to the hospital for another fifteen minutes.”

“I’m closer. I’ll meet you there.”

“Right, thanks.”

Mogi quickly redressed and ran down the stairs.

It can be argued that what happened next could have been avoided had he not been drinking, but considering the rush he was in, it probably would have happened anyway, stone-cold-sober or not.

In his hurry, Mogi tripped and toppled down the stairs, splitting his head open on the bannister. Somewhere during the tumble, there was a snap! and when his body came to a rest at the bottom of the staircase, his neck was bent at an unnatural angle as a pool of blood formed around him.

************************************************

“He said he’d meet us there.”

“Great.”

Touta Matsuda and Shuichi Aizawa didn’t say a word as they drove towards the hospital, instead opting to listen to the radio. According to the weather forecast, there was a nasty storm heading their way, which they both thought was rather fitting; for this had to be, without a doubt, the worst day of their lives.

As they crossed the last intersection to the hospital, the space right in front of them was struck by lightning. Temporarily stunned and blinded by the bright flash of light, Aizawa swerved into a nearby gas station parking lot, hitting one of the fuel stations and knocking one of the nozzles out of its slot, which began to pump out gasoline. After they took a moment to recover, Matsuda breathed a sigh of relief at having come out of the little misadventure unscathed, and thanked God that lightning never struck twice.

********************************** 

KRRRACCK-BOOOM!

Near, who until a second ago had his face pressed against the passenger-side window of the plane, jumped back in shock and bumped into Anthony Carter. Up until now, he enjoyed looking out the window during take-offs and landings, watching the ground and buildings grow smaller or bigger as the plane flew higher or lower. This time had been no exception. But the sudden lightning strike was a bit off-putting.

“Are you alright, sir?”

“Yes,” the boy quickly recovered, “Just surprised is all.”

He looked out the window again, watching the city of Tokyo disappear from his sight.

Then there was a second lightning-strike, and for a brief second, Near could’ve sworn he saw an explosion out of the corner of his eye. Due to the distance, it appeared to be very tiny, which in reality meant that it had been quite large where it happened. He blinked, and he was suddenly too high up to tell if he had seen anything to begin with.

A few hours later, Near noticed a tension in the air.

Something was wrong.

The way the stewardesses and crew nervously scuttled about told him so.

There was a muffled boom! from outside the plane, followed by another, and another. Red lights and alarms started to go off as the oxygen masks dropped from the ceiling.

Nate River paid no attention to the chaos unfolding around him, for he knew at that precise moment he was going to die. He didn’t know if there was anything after death, and he sincerely doubted there was.

But still, he thought for the last time, it would be nice to see Mello again.

Prompt: Everything is the same, but everyone dies at the end.