Fates UnbalancedIt is a great power that we wield, and a great loneliness beside. All the others fear us, and with good reason for between us, we call life, life, and death, death, and give meaning to the time between the two. We are the bookends and the pages of a book that we have written and that we alone know the end to. Meddle in our ways, and that which is written between the covers can change. Please or amuse us, and perhaps your story shall take a turn for the better before the end, for that is who we are. Clotho, the youngest of our triple existence spins the thread that man and not-man alike call Life on her wheel of flashing stories. I, Lachesis, measures out her work, deciding the length and the imperfections that each story should contain. Atropos, once the youngest, now the eldest of our trio wields the blades that put swiftly put an end to the art that together we have created, declaring the final product as complete in all ways.
It is Atropos between us that has changed the most,
Our AnthemI sang the anthem of my people
Hoping that in doing, I’d find my crowd;
The ones who, like I,
Have a public face oh so very different
From the one which is real.
I sang the anthem of my people
As I walked the paths new to me,
and watched each face
to find some trace of recognition.
Day’s end has now come,
And I cannot help but wonder
Have I lost the tune? The melody?
Do they sing our anthem different here?
My door is open, the signs I thought clear
Displayed for all to see if they but look.
Yet I wonder, must I the anthem relearn;
Or are our numbers here so few
That we simply haven’t crossed paths yet?
Permanent LinesThe position was not a comfortable one, and while Madison didn't fully understand all that was going on, she understood it's necessity. The room was sterile, white and chilly as she lay on her stomach, supported by a chair that was highly reminiscent of one she might find at the local dentist's, though modified to support her entire body more securely.
Any discomfort from the padded chair remained background noise as Madison tried not to focus on the scratching sensation from her back. The light chatter that the physcian beside her maintained was not enough, that was certain as she braced herself agains the sharp strokes, trying to prevent herself from shivering in pain. From what she could see from the corner of her eyes, Madison connected the sharp scratching that reached across her shoulders, along the top of her shoulder blades and now down her neck with the array of colored, unnaturelly stiff and sharp-ponted permanent makers that rested in a tray lined with sterile packagi
The Sound of DesperationIt had started as a counseling session, everyone meeting in a small group of age mates, but even after the first meeting, when they sat in silence, it was clear that something more was needed. For weeks they continued to meet twice a week, forced to sit in a circle in a room that was locked until the hour was up. After a month, they began to speak, finally giving voice to the depths of their souls, and the nightmares that lived within.
"I could kid myself into thinking I'm fine," Becca said, her voice starting steady despite the fact that she was the first to break the silence, "but I'm not. I'm tired of living these lies, and I just want to be done with it all. Everyone knows that a broken heart is blind, but no one really knows what to do with a broken brain. If it's not a vegetable, they shrug it off, saying it's fine, and tell you to do the same. It doesn't work that way. It just doesn't work that way. They say our bodies will heal, and that it will take time for
Living DreamsIf life is but a dream, what does that make our dreams? And if, not by your own will, each day becomes more of a nightmare than the last, what is it that makes us keep on pushing through? When the question of life becomes why, rather than how we struggle on for the next day’s dawning, why doesn’t anyone realize what’s really going on? For too long we’ve played their game, by their rules, and today that ends. All my fears, all my fears, my insecurities, anything that might have been used against me- they all fall away like tears when I contemplate the fact that each tomorrow brings a new day, each twenty-four hours closer to freedom. We all know that they’ll try to choke our rising hopes with fleeting fears carefully crafted to appear our own, but the fact that we know them not to be our own is a stronger force yet. We may not march against our enemies, our captors, but we shall stand as a strong tower to protect those who cannot yet stand alone. One
Drianus's choiceHe reached into his pocket, slowly wrapping his long fingers into a fist around the ring of his forefathers. Contemplating his options only revealed that, in the long run, he really had no choice. Sometimes, the words echoed in his mind as he forcefully ignored the memories of his surrogate father, sometimes, the only way to fight evil was to employ a greater evil whether one agreed with it or not. By the end of the day, only one thing would really matter: whether or not the throne remained in the family line.
If took a season of exile for people to realize just how corrupted things had become, so be it. He had seen exile, and very nearly raised his family within it's cool embrace. Drianus had spent many long agonizing hours turning things over in his mind, hoping to find another way for things to change, but found nothing. He would face battle tomorrow, leading the best of his men into the fray without a second thought. If giving his life in battle was required of him, it
Part of the JobThe sun gently warmed his back as he walked along the crowded street. He knew, though, that the pleasant feeling would not last long once he entered the apothecary that stood as the entrance to the rest of the Guild Halls. There was a certain satisfaction in a job completed in a silent and efficient manner, but Mortael held fast to the lingering taste of bitter regret that always followed his thoughts. The darkness of night only expounded them when he had nothing else to keep his thoughts away from the realities of his chosen line of work. The taste of regret was, as far as he knew, the only way that he could maintain his tenuous grasp of rational sanity. Silently, the assassin slipped through the stone-lined walls where the shadows from the torches danced in his wake. None would bother him this day, not unless he took the initiative and reached out to them first. A disturbed assassin was not to be bothered so soon after a completed mission, no matter what the reason.
The Blood OathI bought my fate straight from hell. What you need to understand here and now is that this is the embodiment of our fear, the vessel of our rage, and the harbinger of your doom. It may seem like a cut and dry matter, especially to one such as yourself, but know that it is anything but. Everything that we do and say is focused around that one concept alone; the sooner you figure out what that means for yourself, the better, as you'll actually start to fit in with us, strange as we are to your kind. My fate, the mirrored reflection of the fate of my people, is one that circumvents generations at a time, insidious weaving its way through our history. This oath, whether you acknowledge it or not, will affect your every dying day as we attempt to make the best of what's been left for us in this wasted world.
I chose my fate the day that I answered the king's call with heart and soul, and I now pay the price for what I have done in answering the Blood Oath's infernal need fo
Returning HomeI woke up to despise the world that I once loved. The sound of the fan in the next room is deceptively similar to the sound of the gentle rain that has gently woken me these past few mornings. For one blissful moment longer, I can pretend that things have not changed, and that when I open my eyes, the dim autumn lights will be filtered through the thick canvas wall of my rug lined pavilion. The thought is a comforting one until the undisturbed quiet is broken by the harsh blaring of my painfully electronic alarm, reminding me that cannot be so.
Blindly, I reach out and silence it before rolling over, pulling my heavy wool cloak back over my head in the same motion. It is entirely too early to face the fact that I'll be pouring myself a bowl of overly processed, prepackaged and artificially preserved cold cereal. Instead, I'd much rather it be my usual boiled grains prepared over a crackling fire, built from yesterday's carefully covered coals. It is an odd realization, but I
Sebastian x Child Reader: Her Butler, Valentine
Sebastian x Child Reader
Her Butler, Valentine
It was February 14th and as the sun rose on this very special day, the snow from the night before sparkled as if it had been touched by magic. It was Valentine’s Day once again, and all of London seemed to embrace it with welcome arms. Every shop and café had decorations of hearts and red and pink banners, and there were more flower bouquets than could ever be sold- in spite of the cold weather. And though it was still quite early in the morning, lovers walked through the cobbled streets hand in hand with nothing but smiles. All in all, it was the perfect scene to symbolize the romantic holiday. . . Though in the center of the great city, there was one stately town house near the center of London’s elite class, where there was not a single decoration to be had.
It was the second abode of the Earl of Phantomhive- and current
Hetalia x reader April fool's day!
You heard the sound of a letter being dropped and a package drop from your letter box. You signed and walked over to where your front door was. You picked up the letter and opened it to receive a 'black mail' letter.
'Dear, Miss (Name) (Last Name).
We would like to inform you on your warning that you must come to the park at 10' o clock sharp wearing only this outfit.'
You read out. You opened the package only to face a small prostitute Mickey mouse outfit. You had big mouse ears, a tight short skirt that was suppose to look like like his red shorts of course, a black tank top and of course stockings that will show the strapping with high heels.
You gormed at the outfit and threw it in the trash.
"Theirs no way I'm walking to the park looking like a fricken hooker!" you said annoyed, when you suddenly saw the letter continued.
'However..If you refuse to wear this outfit and not show up at the park. We have your photo
2P!America x Child!Reader x 2P!Canada
How To Look Beautiful~.
"[Y/N]!", your bedroom door was slammed open, revealing both Allen and Matthieu, "We need your help!", both of them said at the same time.
"Ever heard of knocking?" you asked as you glared at them.
"But it's important!", Allen said as he step into your room.
"Important or not, you're supposed to knock!", you growled.
"O-Okay.", Allen walked out of the room, closing the door from behind and then knocked.
You smiled brightly and hugged your mochi plushie tightly, "Come in~"
Allen opened the door, gently then walked in with Matthieu.
"Now, what is this something important?", you questioned.
"This idiot,", Matthieu pointed at Allen, "made a bet to some stupids that whoever lose the game will have to look beautiful and dress like a lady."
"We lost and we need your help to look beautiful since you're the only girl here.", Allen said, feeling slightly embarrassed.
You giggled, "Well! You came to the right person!"
Checkmate|| Yandere!Levi x Reader || AU
Chess was something you were mediocre at.
It was like how every person had that one friend who was great at something, but wasn’t great enough to accomplish anything with it.
Some could say it was talent; others could say it was a logical procedure for them.
You shared that sentiment, but only when it came to chess.
You had to admit, you had beaten him countless times. But the way his lips would only curve downwards into another scowl, the way his hand would clench themselves into a fist, like he was squeezing the life out of the loss he had gained, it was the root of your inability to take any satisfaction from your victory.
The first day, he had challenged you to chess, not knowing of your previous experience with the black and white pieces.
When you beat him, he had said nothing, instead mumbling for you to leave his office.
And that day was the reason your relationship took flight.
A white dove flying with the black crow.
Levi x Artist!Reader - Galaxy - [AU] [Commission]
I didn't expect for any of this to happen.
I didn't expect for you to happen.
I'd spend hours wide-awake late into the night, a cigarette loosely hanging from my lips, just thinking about where the fuck my life was headed. Nothing was ever set in stone, the world and my options were left seemingly infinite. As the cloud of toxic fumes floated into the air, the plethora of empty thoughts only became greater in number. And yet, never once did I ever think of you or that you would be the one to steer my life so drastically. I mean, who would? When I first heard about, you came across as just some new bratty kid that the art museum near my apartment was showcasing. I didn't know a thing about you or your personality. All I knew was that you were supposed to be some art prodigy who produced high value paintings.
I didn't know who I wanted to be.
I just wanted to be someone to somebody.
Even if you were a seemingly shitty brat, taking a look at y
Tadashi Hamada x Reader: Guardian Angel
You were sitting on the stairwell, drowning out all the talk that was going on downstairs. Your hair was damp and so was your dress…and the rest of you. Your eyes, your cheeks…they stung too. It all happened so quickly…you didn’t have a chance to react to what was happening. The memory can’t be replaced by another one. They told you to be strong but you couldn’t. To you…the world had turn cold with the thought placed in your soul that you couldn’t. You tried to dig deep inside yourself to get yourself to be the strong one but you just…can’t.
He was there when you fell, both literally and figuratively. And he always stood with you…and there for you, through all your troubles. He even told you that he would risk his life for you. He would hold you when you cried, saying that it’s okay.
The emotions started hitting you like crashing waves on a stormy shore, as more memories came to you.
Deleted (Armin x Reader) AU
My eyes lit up as the young blonde came into view. Armin’s smile made my heart flutter but something else caught my attention. There, on his childish face, sat a big red splotch that I knew would bruise.
“Hey (Y/N).” Armin greeted me in his quiet tone.
If I had a voice I would give him a hello. Knowing I was unable to speak, he simply sighed as he stared at me. The frown remained on my face as I kept my gaze on the mark that graced his cheek.
“So do you want to see the story I wrote today?”
I glared at the thirteen year old but didn’t dwell on the matter. He would tell me eventually; he tells me everything. He could come here and just go on for hours. I suppose he felt safe around me since there was no way I could actually repeat the things he said to me.
The young boy dug through his school bag before producing a crumpled paper. The pathetic piece of notebook paper looked as if it had been thrown into a lake and then fished out. Armin looked down at
Halloween (2P!F.A.C.E. x Child!Reader)______________ didn’t mind Halloween, she really didn’t, in fact she loved wearing a costume, going out to get candy, and just being a kid but she was also miserable this time of year. She was afraid of her own shadow actually and her family didn’t make it any easier. There were jump scares throughout the house, realistic skeletons everywhere, even creepy looking foods she was too afraid to try. Her mother thought it was hilarious seeing her daughter breakdown in tears from seeing some of the things she and her Uncle had rigged up. It got to the point that ___________ just stayed in her room or hung out at the Kirkland House. She was always welcomed there and Matt was always there to play with her, but so was Mr. Bonnefoy. She never really had much interaction with him and he was always in the corner smoking and drinking. He sometimes let her in and wave her away if she asked for something, it was his own personal way of saying “Go ahead just don’t fuck up
Clint x Reader |Surprises|
Clint Barton was full of a lot of things, you realized as you sat up in bed. You stretched with a soft yawn, looking around the bedroom. He could be so romantic, at times, when he wasn’t being cold and distant. Not only that, but he could be gentle despite being one of the strongest assassins SHIELD had to offer. He was caring, and honest, and in all honesty- He was hot.
But little did you know he could be full of all that crap, and still have surprises to offer.
You blinked, feeling like everything in your shared room was brighter. Happier, even. You’d say you didn’t know why, but trust me, you definitely did. A grin crossed your lips as you felt your excitement grow.
Today was officially your 25th friggin’ birthday.
You leaned over to Clint, who’d fallen asleep with his back turned to you. You hardly care, though, pressing soft lips to his shoulder, then to his neck, and ear.
“It’s time to get up, sleepyhead.” You murmured to him, and y
Friends and MemoriesAs was his habit, Frodo shut himself in his study, fulfilling his promise to Bilbo. It was the 6th of October, the anniversary of the Weathertop attack. It was not until evening that anyone realized the significance of the date, but Frodo had known early on. Bitter pain flooded his arm radiating from the morgul wound. With his opposite hand, he groped for the pendant that Arwen had given him. When at last his fingers found what they had searched for he found strength to block the whispers from his mind, finding peace in the memories of his friends.