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
Punk!Daddy!Levi x Mommy!Reader - Dance - [AU]
With a tiered sigh, a tattooed arm worked carefully to apply false lashes right in the perfect spot on his beloved daughter's face. It wasn't strange anymore, he was used to this kind of stuff now. He was an expert at makeup, hair, costuming, and any skills needed to survive in the dance world. He didn't give two shits if someone thought what he was doing was strange or unmanly. Any person that dared question his masculinity would soon have to schedule facial reconstruction surgery after receiving a deadly blow to the face. This was his little girl, and this is what she loved. So for the sake of his beloved daughter, he'd pin up her hair and apply her lipstick. No one had to know about this little activity he did on the weekends anyways, it was just between his family and the people currently standing in the room. This was the one thing Hope begged her daddy to do with her, and Levi couldn't refuse the sweetness of his six-year-old daughter.
"Daddy, do yo
Decorus (Pharaoh!Levi x Reader) [Ancient Egypt!AU]
Decorus (Pharaoh!Levi x Dancer!Reader) [Ancient Egypt!AU]
He started his mornings with the sunrise; hair trimmed short, scented oils rubbed into alabaster skin, eyelids darkened with kohl. A fine linen kilt would be placed around trim hips, and a gold necklace would adorn his neck, inlaid with a stone of lapis-lazuli that go brilliantly with his blade-bright hues.
Nimble feet would roam the imposing grand palace, the pads of his fingertips involuntarily feeling the roughness of little bumps and tiny cracks found in the walls, eyes raking over the woven tapestries that would hang up high.
A banquet would be held this evening, and he couldn’t help but feel grateful, his lips curving into a rare smile that didn’t quite fit well with his impassive countenance. His mind was filled with thoughts of his dancer, mixed with a flurry of iridescent colors.
You had been in his mind without
Beautiful - Levi x Chubby!Reader [Drabble]
You stared at yourself in the mirror, tugging at the skin on your body as a deep frown settled itself on your features.
You never were what anyone would define as skinny, or thin. No, you had been carrying this extra weight on your body for pretty much your entire life. You didn’t have an hourglass figure, you didn’t have a petite, slim body, you were just you. And you hated it.
How many times had you tried to go on diets? Too many for you to remember. You’d do your damnedest to shed those few extra kilos, either through eating healthy or working out regularly, but each time you’d end up eating something you weren’t supposed to, forgetting that you didn’t go jogging, giving up on the whole thing and falling back to stage one. It was infuriating, but you just couldn’t seem to give yourself that bit of extra motivation that you needed.
Even at the state of self-loathing that you were at, Levi had still taken an interest in you. One that was big e
Sebastian-x- ShyReader: Her Gentleman, Chess Piece
Sebastian-x- Shy Reader: Her Gentleman, Chess Piece
Lady Camilla Beatrice Riverside was a woman of divine beauty and overflowing fortune. Throughout Europe she was revered for her name and personal gifts, and all of this praise and respect was uniquely and well-earned. Having been born to a British Aristocrat family and then marrying well when she was young, the woman had made quite the reputation for herself. She was cunning and had the delicate virtues that any true lady should have, as well as a flair for authority, so she had bypassed everyone’s expectations and gone exceedingly far in terms of her social climbing and wealth.
Her husband, the right honorable Lord Mathew Riverside had died a handful of years past from tuberculosis and Lady Camilla had never remarried. She had respected her late spouse and hadn’t found the need to chain herself to another man when she was perfectly happy and freed as she was. (It was a fact tha
Chains: Part 49 (Eyeless Jack x Reader)
The truck ride was long and silent.
Jack just focused on the road, trying his best not to look at [Name]. At the moment the [h/c]-haired girl was staring at her lap, her wrists bound in front of her with duct tape. This time he’d bound them even tighter than when they’d first come to the cabin, to the point that he’d probably cut into the circulation to her hands. He knew it must be painful, but at the moment it didn’t really matter.
His grip tightened on the steering wheel as he thought back to the events that led to this. Obtaining the pills had been relatively easy, much easier than expected. He’d just explained he was having nightmares, and after another microsleep episode right in front of them Masky and Hoody had given them half a bottle’s worth of pills. Just like that, quick and painless. Honestly, it had made him feel so good about the day,
Tony x Reader Long Time Coming
The air outside was cold and dreary. Winter weather never really was all that pleasant to (Name). What with the bitter chill and mountains of snow and ice that made travel all but impossible. Although none of that really mattered, seeing as she was tucked away, safe and warm, inside the Avengers Tower.
So it was a little baffling to Thor when he came into the living area of the floor, only to find his dear friend hunched on the corner of the couch, feet on the cushions and knees drawn up to her chin. She was staring outside, looking adorable in her fluffy knit sweater but sad, as well.
“What are you doing over there, milady?” He asked her with an amused smile, padding over to where she sat with a big bowl of marshmallows in his hands.
“Oh, you know. Just enjoying the weather.” She replied with a sigh,m wiggling her painted toes while gazing out the frosty window.
“Are you, now? I could have sworn you told me you hated cold weather. I believe you described
Intensity - Sensei! Levi x Reader
You know the saying: take all your troubles to the bottle?
Well the same could be applied to the punching bag.
Whenever you socked the punching bag all your problems would dissolve with every hit.
In all case and purposes, it felt so good.
Thinking of school. Punch. Thinking of those idiots who hated you for no reason. Kick. The anxiety to fit in. Jab.
Something therapeutic came through wasting all your physical stamina on this inanimate object. Yet there was always sparring.
Don’t call yourself mental but something particularly animal came over you when you sparred. It was like the ancient thread from the dawn on humanity awakened your sense to fight and never give up.
Keep in mind you weren’t from a wealthy family. Far from it. Constantly you had to fight for who and what you were so people wouldn’t put you down…
“CLASS!!” yelled your sensei. Everyone immediately stopped what they were doing.
Nightmares (Levi X Reader)
~A/N: Listen as you read! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VVbucCyqK_U&index=3&list=FL6A_kG4AUBerQI5m5_DmhRw ~
You softly knocked on the dark wood, using your other hand to crack open the door. Furrowing your brows, you took a step inside, closing the door behind you. Sunlight filtered in through the windows, allowing the few specks of dust that inhabited his room to dance in it's yellow shine. It shone directly onto the plush velvet green sofa, where a large lump under a blanket laid.
Cautiously advancing, you sat on your knees to peer at the form. Oh, it's Levi Heichou, you thought with a soft smile as his head poked out from beneath the blanket. His features were relaxed and content, chest rhythmically rising and falling along with his deep breaths. He shifted a bit, burrowing his face into the soft pillow as he drew his knees up to his chest.
It's rare to see him curled up and asleep... You brushed a strand of his dark r
Odium | Levi x Reader
You wish to fall into oblivion. The remnants of previous horrors come rushing back to your mind, breaking through the cracks that desperately hold you together. The burden upon your shoulders grows with each day; the mind dwindling with the acknowledgement of reality.
And it is often that you encounter the nightmares. The ones where you recall the moments where your family is slaughtered before you; the ones where you see the allies desperately crying out for your help.
But you can never reach them in time. Nightmare after nightmare, attempt after attempt, you never save them.
A soldier you may be, but a coward you are.
But others do not see you as such-- to them, you are a hero. You are superior to the rest; a glimmer of hope that causes their inspiration to rise.
But to you, you are nothing.
Worriment occurs as trembling digits clutch onto the blanket, desperation explicit in actions. Fabric pressed against your body, the demons continue to cloud your mind, negative thoughts c
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.