Detective!PrussiaxPartner!Male!Reader-Part One1 2 : 0 0 p m , t r a i n s t a t i o nDetective!PrussiaxPartner!Male!Reader-Part One1 year ago in Romance More Like This
You sat down on the bench, waiting for the next train to pass. The crowds of people surrounding you was unnerving as they chattered at the top of their lungs and all you tried to do was get through the first page of your book without having to start again.
You jumped at the sound of that loud, irritating laughter behind you. It wasn't familiar or anything, but it caught your attention. You looked over your shoulder to see a pale-skinned, red-eyed German at the cafe' with his two friends. A blond-haired, blue-eyed Frenchman and a unruly-haired, green-eyed Spaniard. The German had platinum blond hair and, accompanied by his seemingly porcelain white skin and his crimson eyes, you knew what he was.
"He shouldn't draw so much attention to himself," you muttered those insensitive words under your breath before returning to the book in your hands.
"I... Mi amigo, I couldn't do that to you..."
"Kesese! You know you vant to, Toni!
Hetalia-High Fill-in Challenge!~HETALIA HIGH FILL IN CHALLENGE~Hetalia-High Fill-in Challenge!2 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
Number your favorite Hetalia characters in no particular order, 1 through 10.
1. It's time for school and you're just about ready to go. Just then, someone knocks on your door so that you two can walk to the bus stop together. It's #5! How do you greet each other this fine morning?
2. Once you get to the bus stop you are tackled from behind in a tight glomp by #8. Is this a glomp that you shall return or no?
3. Finally, the freaking bus is here. Once you step on though, #2 drags you into the seat next to them so that #9 doesn't sit next to them. Do you have any idea what's going on up with those two?
4. The bus ride to school was "interesting" but you're glad to finally be at school. How look, #3 is by you're locker waiting for you! You have to get your books for class, so is this good or bad?
5. With your books in hand, you make your way over to your usual meeting place to see your friends before class. #1, #4 and #
School, Friends, and Love?! School, Friends, and Love?! (An SnK AU ??? x Male!Reader)School, Friends, and Love?!11 months ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
The [h/c] male nervously pulled at his dark green school uniform blazer as he approached the prestigious prep school. ‘I don’t know… Did I make the right choice coming here?’ the teen wondered to himself as he walked up the steps to the large wooden doors which had the school’s emblem carved into the elegant dark wood doors. The male stopped to observe said emblem and noticed it resembled wings. ‘Hm, just like on my blazer.’ He thought as he reached for the gold plated door handle and pulled one large door open. What met his [e/c] orbs was a rather large court yard with a few benches and
My letter to this world's homophobesMy letter to this world's homophobes11 months ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Dear Homophobes; A letter/poem written by me.
Dear homophobes: I don't recall asking for your opinions on my sexuality or my love life.
But just to clarify, in a short and simple way; My sexuality, just like yours, won't change.
I was born this way, and that is not something you can change.
Your opinions on my "lifestyle" mean less than dirt to me.
Here's a fact that might help, too; My sexuality will never change, but your attitude can.
I will always be gay, just as you'll always be It's not something we choose.
However, I can, and will, choose to live a life of tolerance and acceptance.
It's a choice you can make too; Live a loving, fulfilling life of acceptance, or live an empty life full of hatred.
Please think of this from now on.
Your hatred is not welcome in a world of love.
Your discrimination suffocates the happiness of thousands.
You tear us apart with your deep hatred.
We will not fight your hatred with more hatred.
Rather, we shall counter your hate with our love.
SMIH - Bad Touch Triox!Male!Reader - InvoluntarilyYeah, this one's a uke!Reader story that got requested, so....Why, the fuck not?SMIH - Bad Touch Triox!Male!Reader - Involuntarily1 year ago in General Fiction More Like This
Sighing, you pulled out a folded piece of paper. You studied the various reactions of the countries in the room. And when you unfolded the piece of paper, your heart sank.
It was a colored drawing with crayon, and it was divided into three parts, one had an army of turtles, and it was labeled, "Tomato Army!!!", the second part had a wine bottle and hearts around it, and the third one had a drawing of what looked like the chibi Teutonic Knights with a peace sign saying "I'm awesome!"
You couldn't think of anything rational to do, except groan inwardly. You couldn't refuse, because those three were persistent. They were also extremely annoying. And they were a biiit easy on the eyes.
You got up from your seat and made your way to the closet. "All right, but make it quic
HAPPY NEW YEARHAPPY NEW YEAR4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Sherlock was already dressed and sitting in his armchair, reading, when John came downstairs for breakfast.
"How long have you been awake then?" John called from the kitchen, not even glancing in the detective's direction. Sherlock peered at the robed man over the top of his book and turned the page nonchalantly.
Sherlock's ears picked up the tell-tale chink of the kettle turning on before John started rummaging through the fridge for something even remotely edible.
"Sherlock, what happened to the fruit I bought yesterday?"
"I let Mrs Hudson use them for a pie she was making,"
John shut the refrigerator door with a snap and squeezed his eyes shut in silent frustration.
"So much for breakfast."
"There's a tub of cream cheese on the top shelf of the fridge,"
"Yeah, and would you consume an entire tub of cream cheese plain for breakfast?"
John just shook his head and turned the kettle off, tipping scalding hot liquid into his mug as he heard Sherlock turn
The Author's VanityDescriptions mean nothing. I could sit here and describe for you a million fairytale paradises, a thousand grimy streets, a hundred marble banquet halls. I could paint you a picture of weather- one so real you can taste the heavy warmth of the thunderstorm on the horizon, feel the plump droplets melt against you skin, see the erie yellow light that turns all the houses into paper cut-outs of themselves. I can carry you into the heart of a raging blizzard, leave you there to be bitten and gnawed by frozen, invisible jaws- the screaming fangs that dig deep into your bones-The Author's Vanity3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
And I could take you out again, pluck you up with agile fingers- ones that know their craft- ones that never feel a need to hesitate or tremble. Perfect fingers comprised of words alone, built with layers of understanding and strengthened by ignorance. In these fingers- in these hands- you will feel safe and I shall feel strong, and I shall lift you up and out of the storm I have created, and la
The Beauty of the Blank PageSome people will see the blank pageThe Beauty of the Blank Page3 months ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
As comparable to the most dreadful curse
But I see it as potential
To write in my own words the perfect verse
And though this is yet to happen
The promise will always remain right there
Like a newborn leaving the womb
As they take their first breath of fresh air
Some people will see the blank page
As a reason or excuse to give in
But every great literary work
Needed a scribbled first word to begin
Seeds of a thought that blossom
Thoughts that bloom in to an idea
The page slowly becomes your friend
As the reason you’re writing becomes clear
Some people will see the blank page
As their familiar adversary
As difficult to run away from
As the hardest to forget memory
But like those unwanted memories
It eventually will have to be faced
Don’t hide away from the hollow
And with words the blank page will be replaced
SH: The Boy and His SkullSH: The Boy and His Skull4 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
"I don't understand these grades at all, isn't he settling in?"
Sherlock was up in his room and he could hear his father's voice downstairs the slightly pleading note in it that the man always got when he was trying desperately to understand something that confused him which, in this intellectually acute household, was often.
"I mean, I understand that the move to secondary school has been hard on Sherlock, but these are just.....I mean, he's a very clever child, I don't understand. How can he fail everything?"
"Weren't you supposed to be looking out for him, Mycroft?" he heard his mother accuse, her voice stronger, attempting to take action. Having been a teacher herself some years ago, she rather dominated this conversation, pushing his father back to only making empathetic but generally useless comments.
"I can only do so much, mum." Mycroft replied, sounding offended. "I can hardly force him to make friends, or participate in class, and if he doesn't bloody well sp
The Encounter at Elsie'sIt's a rough hand at my shoulder and I'm being dragged, thrown really, out the front door.The Encounter at Elsie's4 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Right away I recognize her pet. The cloth over his mouth moves, but the blast was too close and I shake my head, pointing to my ear. He understands. He grips my arm with a hand of ice, firm and clinical, doing his job as ordered; and drags me to the side of the establishment with an urgency that has little to do with my preservation. I can't hide my amusement at that fact, dire as our situation may be. Abruptly I am thrown, shoved too hard into the shadows and against the wall, my vertebrae snapping to attention with the impact. Must remember to thank my 'hero' for that one later. He presses a forearm against my chest, leaving it there just an extra moment: stay here.
He disappears. I shudder at the cold as a wave of goose bumps rips over my skin. My eyes dart to and fro, ner
Cazar ideasCazar ideas3 years ago in Reviews & Guides More Like This
No hay nada más frustrante que un artist block y para mí no hay nada más frustrante que leer eso de alguien más.
Sé que deben haber otros tuts con cómo salir de un artist block, así que simplemente me basaré en cómo pueden cazar la inspiración, estén bloqueados o no, pero primero deben responder a la pregunta:
¿Me satisface lo que hago?
Si están bloqueados es porque necesitan simplemente un cambio de aires, uno se aburre hasta de lo que más le gusta hacer. Ahora, si están bloqueados tipo "nada me sale" o "no puedo hacer nada" y el cambio de aires no es una idea a aceptar, lo tomaría como que son esclavos de lo que hacen y por eso tanto su imaginación como su cuerpo (el "plasmador" de obras) se rebelan. Pongan atención a sus estados y no vayan en su contra, eso empeora el caso. Si ya no pueden dibujar, escriban, si no escriben, lean, vean películas, hagan deporte, jueguen videojue
Drummer BoyI met Sam as an afterthought. He was a drummer in a rock band, if one could call a bunch of guys in a basement with a randomly-generated name a rock band. They could have been called Mystic Cargo or Voodoo Syndrome or Dairy Shelf, for all I knew. What I did know was that I had my first gig in a couple of weeks and that I needed a band to back me up. As a high school student with no connections, I didn’t have much choice. As a trio with a number of original songs and nowhere to play them, neither did they.Drummer Boy1 year ago in Short Stories More Like This
As a drummer, Sam defied all stereotypes. His hair was long, curling upward and outward like a helmet, and he wore glasses that were always falling off the tip of his nose by the end of a song. Most surprising to me was his composure. He didn’t have that indefatigable energy found in a stereotypical drummer, the kind you see on TV who smash their head against the air as if it were solid. Sam’s head shook when he played, yes; but it was a slinky instead of a hammer, b
Like Us.You're beautifulLike Us.4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
( If you're
You're worthy of love
( If you
Pop those pills baby grrrrl,
Pop pop pop)
That boy will love you honey
1. Bend Over
2. Make a sammich
3. Be silent)
You want to be part of the group don't you?
Don't you, don't you?
We grin (and groan) when they tell us.
Come ring around the rosy with us; climb the monkey bars with us; Rule the playground with us
Come on, be p o p u l a r with us
(We MoanAndGroanUnhUnh and don't forget to smile when they tell us too)
Be a BFF baby girl
Laugh loud with us so all the little people stare
You're beautiful, aren't you?
And you can be worthy of love
That boy will love you baby
P O P U L A R
I Got YouCentral ParkI Got You3 years ago in Romance More Like This
"I don't think I can do this," Paul murmured. He was sitting on the park bench watching John tie his left roller skate. "What happens if I crash?"
"You won't, don't worry," John said with a hint of annoyance in his voice. "I'll make sure to hold your hand the entire time, okay?"
Paul chuckled. "That would make us look queer!"
John gazed up with his eyebrows raised, not replying. Paul's smile disappeared. He soon got really pissed and tried to swift kick John, missing completely.
"We're not, you know," Paul mumbled.
"Not what?" John said looking calm and innocent.
"Queer." Paul cleared his throat and nervously scratched the back of his neck. His eyes were fixed on his foot. "Are you almost done tying?"
"Yes, are you ready?" John had tied the laces so tight, Paul winced in pain while getting up from the bench. Paul felt strange on the skates, and he began to wobble with his arms sticking out.
"J-john, catch me!"
"You haven't fallen yet, Macca, you're doing great!" John
SoulXMaka: Erased, chapter 1"Oi, Maka, slow down a bit. Why're you so excited?" Soul grumbled loudly as the two walked down the school hall. Classes were finished for the day. More extracurricular lessons were posted up on the board, but Soul just wanted to go home. He was tired as hell because he hadn't gotten enough sleep last night.SoulXMaka: Erased, chapter 17 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
"Baaaaka! Don't you remember? We've got 96 souls already! We're almost finished getting the number of souls we need to make you a Death Scythe!" she exclaimed half-heartedly. She spoke while staring at the board the whole time, contemplating what mission they should take on. "Here! This one!" She pointed at a sheet of paper.
"Eh? What is it?" Soul snatched the sheet off the board and read it out in his mind. Souls have been mysteriously disappearing in the town of Yokano. Find the threat and eliminate it as quickly as possible. Mission Requirements: Soul Perception. "Yokano isn't too far from Death City..."
"So? We gonna take it?"
"... Hmm." Soul replied, handing the sheet o
Drunk Ramblings...Have I ever told you about my brush with the Giant Gorilla People of Kenya? Nine feet tall! Chests as wide as bureau cases. That's what bureaus are shipped in, you know.Drunk Ramblings...4 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
We were walking through the jungle. And came upon a vast clearing. 60 feet across. Fearing the dangers of the dark jungle, I decided to lead the team into the clearing to make our camp. We reached the center and began to pitch our tents. Mind you it was pitch black, but for our lanterns. Dead of night with barely a sliver of moon.
Never truly relaxed, I still felt a certain degree of reassurance. I felt this place would be safe. It wasn't until we got the fire going that I felt something watching us. I kept stealing glances into the murky darkness of the jungle that surrounded us. Under our chatter and the clatter of pots, I could hear a dark murmuring. As the meal came to a close, I put my back to the fire. When my colleagues asked why, I bluffed them. I told them my back was cold and I wished to warm it be
just like a long sigh-It is silly how ballons can deflate so quickly.just like a long sigh-4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
How a prick can drain all our anger
and how a hole can bleed our hearts dry.
Anything you can find:"They're wicked," whispers Deputy Mack, when he thinks we aren't listening. "Beautiful, but wicked."Anything you can find:2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
It makes Noah smirk from the front desk, where Clara Wynn, the dispatcher, is sneaking him sips from her hip flask while she profiles him. DePrince, she writes, Noah Thomas. Age: 12. Hair: Black. She puzzles over the color of his eyes before penning gray on the line, a rarity that gives us an edge, which we use like a scalpel. Noah flickers eyes like new nickels whenever we want something. Today is the Friday after the funeral and we are sick for answers, so we ask Clara if she will take our mug shots.
"I'll find some film," she says, disappearing into the back room. The door taps shut behind her. Deputy Mack and Sheriff Spellis are still arguing about us in the office, their voices a low rumble of contention, so we slip off our chairs and spread out through the station.
"Obituaries, photos, police reports," says Noah, fanning a stack of files across the desk. "Hur
Haiku #5 Hotondo hanaShe will never bloom.Haiku #5 Hotondo hana2 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
Closed petals and no fragrance;
Cold flower in spring.
charlotte.the daydream perches on my window sill,charlotte.3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
singing its pretty melody, eyes closed,
with an entire summer sky stretched out behind it.
all i hear is last night when the other one was here.
the harsh wails of the dark haunt that pierces me
deep in the night when i was still tangled in angry dreams.
i am sure the yellow-breasted bird knows this.
it knows that all i can hear are the broken strings
and that my skin can never feel its soft feathers
the way it still remembers the vivid nightmares'
black, blood drawing claws and all its raw scars
so somewhere in its song there is pain
perhaps fresher than those on my skin.
but who's to hear? my senses have been stolen
and there's not a shred of heart left in me
to feel sorry for you.
Tomorrow is BelievingYesterday I considered myself a dust moteTomorrow is Believing3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
and climbed out of my window into the helixes
of peoples' ears.
I think I am a monarch butterfly surrounded by
peppered moths here.
They're all a hive of bees and what am I?
Perhaps a bluebottle on the wall.
They are ever-ready to say that there is no tomorrow
'I give up' 'I quit' 'There is just nothing for me
or for anybody anymore.'
They pulled me with their hook fingers and sat me down
and told me that there was once constellations, the clink
of champagne glasses against curved lips and they
once rode in the passenger seat of a car doing a hundred
and twenty down a motorway with the windows open and
the hot summer in their billowing hair.
They tell me that they wished at eleven minutes past
eleven and spent years perfecting recipes to what they call
'the perfect life' only to one day stop believing
when morning came knocking for them.
'Tomorrow I'll be sailing off to a new state
of apathy' I hear a body breathe.
'No, you won't. Tomorrow is m