Tag "Collection of drabbles" - Works and Original stories

Anna: That's the end of your story... Now you can sleep peacefully and not worry about anything. Nishikage and I will fulfill your wishes, so just watch it. Know that we will never forget you... Especially me... Because I love you too... Thank you for being my first love, and even if only for a short moment, but I am grateful to you for allowing me to experience mutual love... With tears in her eyes, she said with a gentle smile on her face and kissed him on the lips that were cold.

Just a bunch of oneshots that doesn't need multiple chapters to be completed. I will take suggestions for but probably take a long time to finish them.

Some dumplings with original Dominion flavour, feathers and cross-fandom references.

She is the Sun, He is the Moon. It seems to be two opposites, but the thing is they fit each other...

A little story about how Anna stole Nosaka's first kiss~

Sometimes only a couple of notes are enough to survive.

This fanfiction is a collection of drabbles about the adventures of one weak, but extremely intelligent Floran called Arbora, through the boundless and lawless expanses of the Outer Ring — the frontiers of space. There are no heroes, there are few villains, and there are just a lot of people seeking to profit by any means necessary.

The stars were falling, making the sky brighter, and this gave me hope.

In the shadow of the magic dome that, like an invisible hand of fate, embraced the city, life flowed slowly, like tears on glass. The streets of the city were curved like ancient dreams, covered with the dust of time. The houses rose to the sky like guardians of unspoken secrets, their facades glittering with soft light, giving the impression that in every window there is a story hidden that no one dares to tell.

In the shadow of past dreams, where the stars lay on the horizon, there lived a man whose dream eluded him like a light breath of wind in the midnight silence. Every night he went to bed like a sea of rest, but dreamed of fatigue, of the world that opened only in the arms of weightlessness of sleep.

In the dark sky of my soul, like stars whispering their secrets, a bright planet called "Destiny" flashed. Her light was reflected in my eyes, giving life meaning and filling it with unknown possibilities.

A dead fog bloomed in the gray embrace of the night, like the breath of bygone times. He came like a sad messenger, eclipsing the light of the stars with a misty veil, like a ghost of the past, forgotten in the whirlwind of fate.

In the shadow of sad alleys, between the endless walls of gray buildings, lived an artist whose work was shrouded in the darkness of art. His palette knew only one shade - deep, impenetrable black. It seemed that every stroke of his brush contained inexhaustible grief, longing, the source of which lay somewhere in the very soul of the artist.

In the dark realm of the unconscious, where dreams are born, the hero of my story woke up every night. He was a shadow flying through the stars of his dreams. His creator, the master of this magical theater of dreams, put his soul into each image, gave him wings so that he could soar into the abyss of imagination.

It was summer when the flowers in the garden were blooming with bright colors, but in the house number 13 there was a shadow. Where laughter and joy used to sound, now there is only an echo of past happiness.

Billy had loved his family so much, and Hannah’s voice was so like Agnes’, so when he heard the Washington calling for help down in the mines, he rebelled against his cursed self and his even more cursed instincts. Not only he refused to eat Hannah, but also did everything in his power to prevent her from turning into a Wendigo herself! Makkapitew and others were not pleased—obviously—but it’s not that any of them can do anything about it now. After all, rules are rules.

At the edge of the world, where the sky had become an unreal carpet of evening haze, the beach stretched like a forgotten verse in the book of time. The sand, soft as a memory of the past days, met the wave streaming from the boundless horizon. The sea seemed like a big ocean of longing, in which the sun's rays were drowning, coloring the water surface with shades of unspoken sadness.

In the shadow of a forgotten city, where time wove its nets of old memories, there was a homeless emperor. He was the lord of the forgotten streets, covered with the dust of time, and his palace was a dilapidated house under the arches of heaven. His empire was empty, as if locked in bronze tombs of memory.

In the lost alleys of the city, where the walls of houses are like silent witnesses to forgotten stories, there lived a homeless tramp named Wind. His long hair was intertwined with fate, and his eyes, like the heavens in a gray cloud, despite their bottomless gaze, radiated something inexpressibly dreary.

For a long time, the heavens gave light to the stars, which have now faded away, like the last sighs of ancient constellations. Surrounded by the darkness of the night, a lonely traveler walks along forgotten paths where the stars used to have fun.