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The Orphanage of St. MatthiasAn orphan was six years old when he decided that he was going to conquer the empire. He was a willful boy, clever and quick, who feared nothing. His eyes and hair were dark but his skin was pale: he appeared identical to every other child in the whole of the glorious Lancastrian Empire, land of the richest palaces and the filthiest poorhouses.
But this orphan boy was not every other child in Lancaster. He was determined to make himself the ruler of them all, and nothing and no one was going to stay in his way for long.
The nuns in the orphanage called him Jake. He hated the name; he asked to be called Alexander, after the Macedonian conqueror. The nuns politely refused and went on their way.
The orphan known unwillingly as Jake had few friends in the orphanage. They were all rowdy, boisterous children, just as unable to be tamed by the elderly nuns as the nuns were unwilling to tame them. They played on and on without minding their studies, without listening, without watching. The year
Building Block-adesThe trouble with having no inspiration, Kasey thought, is that you want to get something done, and try though you might, nothing happens.
His desk was a shambles of books, pens, cards, headphones, rulers, and stacks of paper. The few spots of wood that could be seen between the rubbish were all covered with a thin layer of grime. His printer was out of ink, and the flashing indicator light was giving him a headache, as was his computer's psychedelic screen saver.
It was too early in the day for this, Kasey decided, staring dejectedly at the mess he faced. It was too early to be faced with no ideas and no way out. He had homework to do, sure, but that was a constant. He wanted to do something special, something artsy, but the one day he got up the guts to get out his supplies, the inspiration abandoned him, leaving him looking like a messy idiot.
A few hours later saw him cleaning up his mess with a skulky look on his face.
The Brightest LightsShe hadn't slept in two days.
The chart was simple: chronic insomniac, on medication, referred to the ED four times in the past two months by her primary care physician; not a smoker, no drugs, didn't drink, no anxiety or bipolar disorder, in no physical pain.
Except this time. This time, she hadn't slept in two days, and she had a raging headache. Had to be driven in on the bus because she couldn't see straight, and the hallucinations were getting ready to roll.
The toxicology report was clean; there was nothing in her system. She just couldn't sleep.
She was in the waiting room for forty-five minutes while a room was prepped for the customary exam. She watched the minute hand of the clock inch ever forward, tick after tick after tick after tick, thought she saw it jump once, then again, widdershins. Listened gravely to the man next to her who said his bellybutton had moved.
Now, there was a lunatic. He was a diagnosed
SprinklesThe year was any number, real or imaginary, and though the city had a name, it was always called something else. It was a holiday, though just what holiday, no one knew. Men and women in masks danced ignorantly across streets and bridges to joyous songs that repeated endlessly. There was laughter and food, a great deal of wine, and color, such glorious colors, on every corner.
There was also a boat in the water, a boat among all of the other boats. Small, this boat was neither painted nor gilded, nor ornamented in any way, and that made it very different indeed.
Though the crowd did not care to examine the strange boat, it was under constant observation: a cat, black with a healthy sprinkling of lone white hairs, followed the boat until it came to rest. An orphan boy, a friend of the cat, followed the animal and so was the first to see what it carried.
The orphan boy and the sprinkled cat watched, at a distance, as the occupants st
Forms of GuiltServices were being held in the Mainal Cathedral. That in and of itself wasn't a strange thing, Volke supposed. He had returned from the city to conduct a few pieces of business, and now he was observing his current contractor. Volke needed to know more about him, needed more information. It was standard protocol.
Ike was seated in the pews, a strange, taut look on his face as if he were restraining a great emotion. His hands were clenched into tight balls on his knees, and his weapons were nowhere in sight. As a matter of fact, he seemed to have cleaned himself up a bit: he was wearing his least frayed set of clothes, with the nicest shoes. At least, from a distance, they looked half decent.
Volke heard the footsteps, but their maker was harmless, so he did not move. "Are you here for the prayer service?" the footstep-maker asked. He was an elderly man, a bishop, likely.
Bottoms UpThe Seven Deadly Sins.
Lately, they're a terribly romantic concept. It seems like everyone and their brother, plus their brother's third cousin twice removed, has tried to tell a story based around the Sins. Few people know about the Seven Heavenly Virtues, the Sins' counterparts, and of those people, even fewer can name them all. No, the Seven Deadly Sins are à la mode at the moment, as it were.
I guess it doesn't hurt to follow the crowd.
I'm here to tell you a story. A story about the Seven Deadly Sins, but mostly about Wrath, because Wrath is terrible and directionless, and when those two features are put together, something akin to emotional Armageddon comes to pass and the being unfortunate enough to have felt Wrath's wrath is wiped out, physically, mentally, psychologically, physiologically--you name it, it's spent.
You might have heard of me before. If you haven't, I'm not naming names, including my own. Tha
The Stars AboveEliwood couldn't sleep.
He tossed and turned, tried lying on his stomach and on his back alternatively, flipped his makeshift pillow around and pummeled it, but it was all to no avail. It had been dark for a long time, and he knew that sunrise must be on its way. Their army had no use for clocks: they traveled by day and rested by night, without any idea of the time. Calendars, of course, were of use, but not watches or clocks, and Eliwood didn't know of anyone who had thought to bring one along. In short, he didn't know how long he had been trying to sleep, or how long he would have to wait until the rest of the army rose.
Disgruntled, Eliwood sat up and held his head in his hand. Across the tent, Hector was snoring something atrocious. Even if he had been able to sleep under normal circumstances, no one could possible sleep with that dull roar in their ears. Eliwood privately thought that it was a miracle that Hector slept through it at all.
He dressed in the dark, with neither match
Packing Up the PastThe day after the battle at the Shrine of Seals was bright and clear. Nino could not see a single cloud in the sky in all directions, and a slight breeze kept the air from becoming stale. In short, by appearances, it was a perfect day.
Nino was out walking, alone, as she had taken to doing ever since she had decided to tag along with Eliwood's army. Though she was never truly "alone"-Jaffar always followed, at a distance and out of sight, for her safety-those walks were the only moments that Nino had to reconcile her feelings. She still remembered listening to Prince Zephiel's prayer through the crack in the door with Jaffar on the night she had been sent on her first and only mission, as an assassin; the first of her farewells to the life she had known. She was still grateful to Jaffar for turning on the Black Fang for her. She shuddered at the thought of what would have transpired at the castle had she not been sent along.
Of course, she knew why she had been sent: she was to assassi
OxygenI stared at the photograph long after you were gone. I didn't know what I should have said or done; I just sat there, staring, waiting. When you didn't come back into the room, I realized that you never would. You were gone; farther away already than you'd ever been before.
I thought about chasing you, but realized the folly. After all, I didn't even know where you'd gone, or if you'd ever be back. How was I supposed to know that the answer was never, you were never going to return to me?
I waited for you. I heard about you on the TV and in the papers and on the Internet, but you never looked the same as when you did with me. Your hair could never be tamed like those handlers of yours forced it to be, and you never had that dull look in your eyes, and you never, ever, spoke in that sort of uncaring monotone. Not with me, anyway. I didn't understand how you could do that.
So I did what you told me you'd done. I went to Japan and climbed Mount Fuji without permission. Got on a plane, fle
make me proud. kageyama tobio x reader
Kageyama Tobio x Older Sister!Reader ;;
"Tobio. Can you toss for me?"
The young boy of 9 looked up to her older sister who gave him a small smile. He didn't mind giving tosses to her sister; it was fun — and it helped her practice. As far as he knew, his sister was volleyball player in her middle school and was the ace. She said she needed to work on her spikes, but he didn't understand why she needed to keep practicing it — considering that her spikes were the best. Well, in his opinion, anyway.
He shrugged his shoulders loosely. "Sure."
She grinned and went to the backyard, Tobio following in behind. And as they arrived in backyard, she turned to him, the grin still plastered on her face. "You ready?"
Tobio nodded his head and [Name] passed the ball to him and as the ball was coming towards him, he extended his arms up above his head, positioned his hands in a diamond formation, spread his feet about shoulder width apart, and as the bal
birthday kiss. oikawa tooru x reader
"Good morning, [Name]-chan~!"
Oikawa gave the girl a wave, but the girl merely looked away, trying her best to ignore him at all costs. Knowing that she was avoiding his presence, Oikawa entered the classroom and grabbed a chair and scooted next to her. Really close to her. Too close for her own comfort. But did Oikawa care? No, of course not. He never cares about anything but himself.
Which is why [Name] hated him.
"Do you know what day it is~?" he asked, paying no attention at how the girl was extremely uncomfortable by the space between them. Oikawa, however, saw the tint of blush appearing on her cheeks, and that only made him want to get closer to her even more.
"Friday." [Name] simply replied, or at least, tried to.
"Nope!" he exclaimed, that sadistic smile of his still plastered on his dreadful face. The students stared at the two
lovebirdsstudents, blinking at the scene. Though, this wasn't the first time Oikawa barged into their c
FFM 18: Friday NightAnother friday night. Burnt coffee, stale cigarette smoke, and a bunch of assholes that Vlad didn’t like any better than himself. If there was a silver lining here, it was that this would be his last meeting. That almost brought a smile to his tired, pallid face. Almost. Instead, he peeled off one last sticky tag, wrote his name, and sat in the circle with the rest of the guys.
Rat King was up first. Blah blah, all the usual bullshit about ruling the sewers. Honestly, who cared? That guy wasn’t a true monster. As far as Vlad was concerned, they should’ve sent him packing ages ago, but this was a place of support, so he’d never said as much. Twitching and fidgety, he waited for his turn to stand at the podium.
“Hello,” he began. “My name is Vlad. Of the Family Macnair.”
“Hi, Vlad,” the assorted murderers and thieves replied.
“As most of you know, I
Giving the Bride AwayThird Person Plural
Father: Teenagers are too immature to know what’s best for them.
Third Person Neuter
Mother: This country just doesn’t have the same standard of morals.
Third Person Masculine
Father: He’s the perfect choice for her.
Third Person Feminine
Mother: She’s not too young. It’s normal to be nervous.
Father & Mother: You should be excited on your wedding day.
Bride: This isn’t what I want.
A ConversationI told him he smells of coffee and thrift shops. He said, “Is that a good thing?”
I said yes, very. Or better than smelling of cheese and ammonia.
“Who smells of cheese and ammonia?”
This lady I work with. And not good cheese, either. Roquefort, that’s been sitting on the dash of a car on a 100 degree day.
“Why do you suppose the ammonia?”
I assume that she cleans with it.
“Oh my God,” he said. “Who cleans with ammonia? Unless she’s getting rid of evidence?” He cocked an eyebrow.
And who smells of cheese if they clean with ammonia, is what I want to know. I tell him I can never eat stinky cheese again, but that being near him always makes me want a coffee, badly.
“What do thrift shops smell like?”
I ask him if he’s ever been into a thrift shop.
“I don’t think so. Old bookstores. I love those. Is that close?”
I thought about that. Yes, yes that wa
:: GULA :: Charles Grey x Reader
gula ; latin for gluttony.
"Ah, I'm so hungry! [Name], get me something, will you?"
"Must you eat all the time? You just ate an hour ago!" the girl said, raising her voice. It still surprised her at how this man could consume any food with a blink of an eye. He kept eating, eating, and eating, it made her sick to the stomach. Just watching him eat made her stomach churn in disgust. "If you want food, then go get some yourself."
"That's a lot of work," Charles complained. "that's why I'm asking you, silly!"
"I'm not," [Name] began, walking towards him and sticking her sword in front of his face. "your maid."
"Course, you aren't." he mumbled, removing the sword away from his face. "Must you always stick your sword in front of me? You know, one day you might end up slicing my face in half! And it will be all your fault, [Name]."
"Oh, please. I would have done that if you weren't the Queen's butler."
"Still cruel as ever, I s
The Bird Lady FFM20I’ve lived in NYC for over two years, and for so many people living there, it’s an awfully lonely place to be. Everyone is very focused on themselves, no one makes eye contact in the streets, and even the cabs ignore you. My job is the only thing that keeps me here. I make so much money, it would be stupid to move back home and work at my dad’s store for only a fraction of what I earn. That, and I have an old lady to take care of.
She’s one of those bird ladies in the park. She’s a sweet old thing, and it would kill me to leave her alone. It would probably kill her too.
We became friends because I was sitting alone in the park one afternoon, watching the clouds and daydreaming. She jumped out of nowhere and said, “Feed the birds?” I nearly fell off my park bench, I was so surprised.
“Sure, sure,” I said, pressing a quarter into her wrinkled hand. Gums showing, she smiled. She handed me a paper bag of breadcrumbs and sat next to me.
A Fallout Tale: Disscussing Talon Merc'sHey Internet. I have noticed Talon Merc's aren't as aggressive anymore. We still don't know who's been calling the shots with the contracts. I have my suspects you guys have yours. Feel free to leave it in the comments. I think Colnol Autumn may have set Contracts but most likely not as they have appeared before she met Autumn. Zimmer is a medium-ish suspect as he was in a small part of the first quarter of the series. And the guy in Tenpenny tower which is probably High Suspect as ***Spoilers*** You could only reach their if you blew up megaton or so they say. Anybody's a suspect. Raiders too. Even her followers are suspects.....except quasar. Well we need to wrap this up. Say who you think it is in the comments. And as always See ya later Internet!
jungle wrathBodies were strewn along the river beneath the canopy of the rainforest, twisted and broken. Scavengers already picked at the bodies and around their helmets. The forest would take back what was hers.
A naked man stood with his feet in the river, a busted spear in his hand. His chest heaved and drying blood stained his dark skin in splatters and rivulets. He listened to the forest humming around him, to the silence he had created.
His village had prayed and the devils hadn’t stopped, but his spear had brought back peace. He hadn’t needed the gods after all.
A Love StoryOnce upon a time, a servant fell in love with a prince. He was handsome and clever and cruel, and she loved the way he spoke to her when they were alone. He did not court her in any traditional sense, though he promised so much with the curl of his lips and the lightness of his touch. He made her feel as if she were already the princess her promised her she would soon become.
And then he disgraced the servant, humiliating her by bragging of his deception shortly before marrying a pretty noblewoman. The servant wept. She loved him. He did not love her.
But this is a fairytale (as anything that begins with 'Once upon a time' must be), and convention dictates that this story cannot end here. It cannot end with the servant suffering a miscarriage and living out her days alone. By the same token, it cannot end with her decision to walk away herself, to have her child and be a single mother and suffer and love and find happiness. So long
Nine TimesI saw him nine times.
The first time we were both sitting in the room together, getting ready to take the math test that would determine our placement. I was scatterbrained and throwing things around, trying to find the pencils that I had known I would need but had still just tossed in my purse. He was lounging backwards in his chair, looking for all the world as though he didn’t have a single care in the world, including the upcoming test. It annoyed me, that I was frantic and ready to scream, while someone else could be that relaxed.
I tested out of the class.
I don’t know if he did.
The second time I saw him, it was a few months after I arrived on campus. He was the one rushing and frantic this time, running across the square. He was probably late for class, though I had no way of knowing for sure. I was already lost in my own thoughts and ideas, deciding on my major and convincing people that yes, this is what I really want to do with my life. If they weren
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