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
Bonjour, Wanker! - England x Reader
Arthur took in a deep, fresh breath of morning air as he brushed the living room curtains aside. Light quickly breathed life into the once dull room.
It was the perfect Sunday.
With a fresh cup of Earl Grey tea in one hand, Arthur made his way outside to pick up the Daily Prophet.
The Englishman let out a yelp of surprise as his foot slid on a sticky substance. He quickly regained his balance, but the sudden movement caused the piping hot tea to fly out of the teacup and all over his clothes.
"MERLIN'S BEARD!" Arthur hissed as the hot liquid seeped through his clothes and burned his skin. He quickly glanced down for the culprit and saw a white, goopy substance.
...And no, it's not what you think!
"Ugh, bird poop." He wrinkled his nose in disgust.
And it wasn't just on his walkway, hundreds of bird poop were littered all over his lawn, house, car, and-
"Good morning Arthur!" A mint colored bunny with wings said happily as he zoomed his way towards the Brit.
Hiro Hamada x Reader: Shaky Science
You grumbled under your breath bitterly, trying to gather up all your torn and scattered blueprints and sketches that littered your "lab". Thanks to your good-for-nothing brat of a cat, three years worth of research and ideas for new inventions that along with some of the research were gone. And the thing that hit you the hardest with sadness and rage, was a blueprint that you and your best friend made together, Hiro Hamada.
You've known each other since you were in preschool. While the other kids made their macaroni necklaces, you and Hiro were making DNA strands. That's how you became best friends, showing off your smarts to the rest of your class. But unlike Hiro, you stayed in high school while he graduated at age thirteen. Why? During your middle school years, you were slowly unable to hold anything still, your hands shaking like miniature earthquakes. It wasn't Parkinson's Disease but it was close enough to it and it left doctors stumped. The shaking made you work at a frus
Halloween 2: Hiro Hamada x Reader
This one takes place four years after the movie.
Highly recommend you read Part One:
“Oh! I like this one!” you say as you grab the costume that is packaged up into its plastic bag off of the rack. This picture on the front shows a model wearing the costume.
Hiro sighs in exasperation from next to you. “Weren’t you already Little Red Riding Hood for Halloween once?” You had dragged him out of his house so he could go costume shopping with you, but like every year, he had no interest in doing so. You were trying to find a costume to wear to your friend’s Halloween party. You were also trying to figure out a way to get Hiro to agree to go with you, because so far the 18 year old was pretty adamant in wanting to stay home for the holiday.
You shrug a shoulder and begin to head for the changing rooms, “That was forever ago, we wer
Tadashi Hamada x Reader: Taking Care of Hiro
It’s been awhile since the last time you saw your good friend, Tadashi. Calculus class at Northern San Fransokyo High wasn’t the same without him. He wouldn’t even answer your calls! Or your emails. It troubled you...no one knows where he is and the teachers won’t tell you why he’s gone either. Soon enough, he was all you could think about and you could...somewhat barely focus in your classes. The last thing he said to you was, “I’ll see you later...I have to help out at the blood drive. Don’t worry about picking me up, my parents will get me. See you tomorrow, (Name)!” It made your imagination go wild on what happened that day, it was a couple of months ago. And when you look for what happened, everyone shut you out. Also, no one would let you read the papers, your parents not letting you watch the news the first couple weeks he was gone! That only made it worse. So today...you told your parents that you were staying after school s
Modern AU! Thranduil x Reader |Braided|
The sun was drifting lazily among the clouds as (Name) walked into the home of Thranduil. She hummed as she enjoyed the warmth, eying the gorgeous, fluffy clouds that hid behind the huge, lush canopies of the trees. She was on a mission to visit her boyfriend, however, that didn’t mean she couldn’t enjoy the scenery around her, too.
Thranduil’s family was, simply put, loaded. A humongous home, a bright, vibrant yard that stretched for literal miles across the massive estate. (Name) loved to come and visit, sometimes, when she could. She’d invite the rather anti-social boy to come and do things with her, usually out in the world and not in his home. So, whenever she got the opportunity to gawk over it, she always did.
“Excuse me, I’m here to see Thranduil?” She said into the com of the front gate of the wide place. She felt a camera train on her form before the gates opened up, allowing her in to see her lovely man.
And when she says lovely, she
Writing Chapters|Soldier!Levi xTherapist!Reader|AU
“Get the fuck away from me.”
The usual phrase from your patient greeted you, as you sat down on the white sofa, smiling at him.
Soldiers were only ahead, accompanied by their therapists as machines or exercises were used to help them on the journey of recovery.
Except, General Levi Ackerman utterly refused to move from his wheelchair, only glaring and throwing rude phrases at anyone who dared to approach him.
Like he had for the past few weeks, ever since his fifth try at walking. He had fallen a few steps unaccompanied, and had refused any orders or pleas to walk thereafter.
Even Erwin Smith, Commander of the entire army couldn’t get him to walk.
Levi was a soldier, and like so many before him, he had paid a price.
Injuries, friends of his comrades had greeted him, and taken him home.
An ambush in the midst of travelling along the war stricken roads of Trost took his squad, as well as himself rolling into a ditch, the mine t
Sugar - England x Reader
~~~Author's Note: This story is the LAST insert for PROPOSAL MONTH! Thank you all for either joining my new group, submitting a story/picture for it, favoriting, and even just commenting. Your support is amazing and as a humble author I only hope I gave back just the same. Please enjoy as I allow Iggy to wrap this month up
Title Mostly Inspired by Maroon 5's "Sugar"
Original: [link] Orchestral: [link] ~~~
The bowtie that clenched Arthur's throat was more than uncomfortable. It was downright constricting.
Sweat glided down from the palm of his hand to his fingertip. "Ack! Disgusting!" He shook his hand, disgust riddling his handsomely defined features. It was a wonder how he had became so anxious to the point of sweat when a sweet voice cooed his name.
Suddenly like the flip of
Animation: Tadashi x Reader
You watch the recorded video on your cell phone for the hundredth time, for some reason hoping for a better outcome. However, just like before, the jerk that had been standing in front of you at the time that you filmed this, steps in front of your camera, and completely blocks off what you had been filming. With an irritated huff, you press the button to turn off the screen of your phone and toss it onto the table. You pull out your ear buds as well; the soft buzzing that fills the café now entering your ears. You sigh tiredly and rub your forehead.
You pick up your drawing notebook and flip through the first several pages. Going through it fast enough, you can see the animation piece come to life. However, it doesn’t last very long, before the pages become blank. You only have about a quarter of the notebook filled and you only have two more weeks to fill the rest of it. Unfortunately for you, the only reference you have for
Gummy Bears: Hiro Hamada x reader
Warning: Fluff alert, Hiro's pervy side comes out a little, once again. Thought I might give you some warning this time, haha.
I imagine this taking place when Hiro is around 17 to 18 years old.
You were currently laying out on Hiro’s bed, your head propped up by his pillows as you read from the book you had resting against your stomach. Hiro was sitting in his desk chair, typing away at his computer. You were both caught up in your own worlds, content being next to each other and not needing to fill the air with useless chatter.
A few minutes later, you hear Hiro’s chair squeak as he leans back and stretches his arms up into the air. The wheels of his chair roll across the hardwood floor as he pushes away from the desk and stands. “I’m gonna grab a snack from downstairs. Do you want anything?” he asks.
You glance at him from your book and shake your head. “No thanks,” you tell him w
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.