A Means to An End (SebastianxReader)"I am ready." She sits amidst the smoldering ashes, her vision blurred and streaked with the reds and blue hues of the flames that still replay and spring to life over and over again in her mind; they will not stop dancing, splaying themselves across a black horizon that has overtaken her senses suddenly.
Ironically, (Name) chuckles dryly to herself as she sprawls, limp with exhaustion across the filthy ashes that stain her ragged, once royal clothes, this is what her life has been like for years and years.
Empty. Devoid. Dead and black, with only the fires of hatred and hell flickering across her frozen, stone heart. The flames have never died, she finds to her surprise; for years, she has chased after her ultimate goal. For years, she has hated and despised and schemed. For years, she had planned the death of innocents and written out her own demise. The flames, all along, were what had driven her, insane, across her own battlefield and came piercing back into her heart in an unmista
Her Angel (PrussiaxReader)It is a quiet night in Berlin, Germany. The wind does not blow—even the trees have ceased their endless, gentle swaying, bringing on a dark and silent night at last. For many days, the wind has not blown. For many days, flowers have remained still and lifeless, their petals blooming, yet so motionless as if frozen in horror.
It is the day that little Ludwig, now of age eighteen, lies by the window, gazing out into a black and starless sky, hoping and wondering. Where could brother be, he asks himself as he stares pensively into a moonless horizon. When will he return home? Where has he been?
But it is useless wondering. Ludwig knows that, and yet he continues to think and contemplate on matters before him—he is so young, everyone exclaims. So young and yet so bright. And so very handsome, too! Unlike that brat of a brother of his. Surely the two are not related!
And it is true, even Ludwig’s own mother proclaims it. She has forbid everyone
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(deviantID profile picture by Cantrona.) |
I'm just a little Kitsuki.
I like chocolate, baseball caps, and good writing. I'm a long-time inhabitant of the ProcrastiNation... Basically I'm just your average dispassionate asshole. Sometimes I can be a sociopathic megalomaniac.
I accept bribery.
Feel free to message this little sucker at <firstname.lastname@example.org>.
Long-time partners and comrades-in-writing:
Things I Like. As in Really Like.
You really must go and check these fanfiction out:
Death and His Shadow (Death Note):
Muse (Bleach): www.fanfiction.net/s/6251476/1…
Cake is good, next to chocolate. As for things other than food... I like video games. "Outlast" is the scariest one I've played, and my absolute favourite.
I like Aizen Sousuke and Light Yagami. Basically villainous/anti-heroic, homicidal, megalomaniac characters; the good-looking ones with a high level of intelligence.
I also like deep voices.
And in regards to my writing... Criticism is good, I love criticism. But please, leave out flames. Flames are not nice. Flames are bad.
I write things because I want to.
So grab a smoke. Put it in your mouth. Light it with fire.
Sit down and have some good reads right 'ere.