William-x-Reaper! Reader- RequestWilliam-x-Reaper! Reader- Request by Tarnisis
William T. Spears -x-Reaper! Reader
Back in the Field
You sat amidst the humans, unseen as you effortlessly blended amongst the large crowd. Granted you had had innumerable years to practice being invisible, but you still held your skillset in high regard due to how important they were to you as a Reaper. Currently you were out of your normal environment- but you wouldn’t have traded your position for anything.
The Noah's Ark Circus was a troupe of seemingly normal standing; a nice attraction for those humans in need of awe-inspiring entertainment. But for the Shinigami Society the Circus had become troublesome, and had gained its own detailed case file. This of course meant loads of paperwork and a handful unlucky sod Grim Reapers who landed way more overtime than they wanted.
Though no official killings had occurred on the actual premises of the circus, there were a handful of carnies that had been
TT - Break Me Shake MeThe clang of the metal doors slamming reverberated through the empty air. He had long since left, the tower no longer on the horizon, and yet the echo still rattled through his ribcage. No matter how fast or how far he ran, he couldn't escape the ringing in his ears and in his core, the dissonant chord of finality – and only when breathing became too painful and stifled did he give up, collapsing to his hands and knees.TT - Break Me Shake Me by the-dragon-childe
It took a few moments before he could even see straight enough to know where he was – a forest, he guessed – and he'd been so concerned with just running that he didn't even know when or how he'd gotten that far out of the city. Not that it mattered. He didn't have anywhere else to go, anyway.
Automatically, he reached for his bow, then an arrow, trying to still his shaking hands. He felt too hollow, nothing holding skin and bone together but dull pain and that rattling, damning echo. But he had to steady his aim. His bow was an extension of him
gw - lay your weary headFifteen years old and already weary, aching and unable to grasp hope any longer. The pointlessness of a life of war, one that seemed to never end even when they said it had, and no purpose outside of it or even for it. Did they even have a motivation, a cause to fight for? This nebulous idea of peace seemed out of their reach – and could soldiers so destroyed already even enjoy it, were they to achieve it? What purpose would they have in a peaceful world? What would they have to go back to?gw - lay your weary head by the-dragon-childe
Even if the world was no longer at war, it seemed these young warriors always would be, if only within themselves.
A soldier almost from birth, pointing the gun at himself as often as at others, if only just to catch a glimpse of the humanity trained out of him.
A street urchin, too late to save the only sanctuary he was ever offered.
A mercenary with so many masks and identities foisted upon him that he’s never learned his own self.
An heir whose heart bleeds for everyone but himself, w
avengers - this space betweenHe is as imposing and intimidating as he’s ever been, fire in his electric blue eyes and power in his stance, the hammer in his hand and angry lightning the only illumination. A lesser man might fear the thunder alone would stop his heart. He could have anyone at his mercy.avengers - this space between by the-dragon-childe
Instead he is offering mercy, the softhearted fool.
If he believes he can overpower me, why doesn’t he do it? And if he doesn’t believe he can, then why has he been pursuing me at all?
Sometimes I hear him, echoing as he had ever since my fall, telling me I deserved what I’d gotten, and what was sure to come to me.
But now he stands before me pleading just the opposite. He tries to tell me I can come home, insists that I can still be who I once was. I never was that man at all. I cannot claim back an identity that did not exist.
He does not understand. He knew a man. I am a monster. What have I to return to but scorn and lies? He offers forgiveness, but what can wash away the bl
In the AbyssIn the Abyss by Tarnisis
In the Abyss
Lost in the darkness, where silence surrounds us.
Once there was morning, now endless night.
I searched for my answer, I vowed never to desert you, and yet here I am on my own. . .
Once you told me that we had forever, but what good is forever when you're coming undone?
Seams become threadbare and lives wane to nothing, as we continue this never-ending dance of the dead.
But who are we? One good and one evil, or merely two opposites that are constantly bound to collide?
A moment of chance, or a frightful fate?
Would you claim the
Poetry ScribblesDon't play me the fool for naughtPoetry Scribbles by Tarnisis
Whether broken or merely distraught
Believe what you say, with your opinion displayed,
But for what is it that you have fought?
A reason without any rhyme
Our souls live within the time
Forget the motions, of Love's sweet potions
No longer lost or blind.
A champion lost in a wood
His bravery left for good
Think of the gain, not the loss of his name
Would you embrace him if you could?
Eloquence with a flash of a dare
Making ladies stop and stare
A poisonous bite with a gigantic might
What a devilish pair.
The ending of our song
We shall leave, and we must be strong.
With a wave and a bow, and a 'by your leave now'
We shall return to where we belong.
Between HeartbeatsBetween Heartbeats by Prophetella
“I believe in destiny. There must be a reason I am as I am. There must be.”
—Robin Williams (1951-2014)
One night, exactly a month ago, as I rested from an injured ankle, I fell asleep at the end of a movie marathon tribute to Robin Williams. I fell asleep wishing—praying— he was happily joking somewhere. I had a rare and vivid dream that night that filled me with wonder. Something immemorial that came to me and lifted my spirits in the still quiet space between waking and sleeping.
As I slept, I saw a large and gleaming stadium, the concrete of which had multiple glowing patterns. These patterns suited the structure and provided simple directions for the many thousands of sad, confused, and scared souls attended by wingless counseling angels. Their clear destination, apparently, row upon row of seats surrounding a field coated in vivid, magical flowers that chimed, sang, and twinkled softly. A gleaming stag
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