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SweepAs soon as he stepped into the open field, he slung the minesweeper from his shoulder and pointed its nose to the ground. It was old, worn and heavy, and old and rough, calloused and breaking, and old. The metal between his hands was cold and chilled his fingers. If he was not careful he could step on the very mines he was trying to find. They would have to pick up the pieces of his body and to send the tags home where his wife would cry and hold his son and daughter close with nothing to show them of their father but a piece of metal engraved with "Ajeet Singh".
One sweep, than another.
This war had taught him to never trust open spaces. Open spaces were where the mines were planted, where Prets lay in wait. France was green and damp just like the uniform he wore. It had been days since he was separated from his unit, and now the Allies were breathing on his neck, searching for POW’s, searching for the enemy of which he was one. &
Medders Thesis: pt 7 - Cells for the Insane
§ Cells for the Insane §
One time at night, the hospital came alive with shrieks and howls. My master was not there but I heard what had happened from the other doctors. It was the Frank again. Only this time the Christian proved just how much of an animal that he was. At first it was quiet, the patients residing there silent and sleeping until the screaming of the Frank broke through the night. I saw the attendants run past and out of sight to tend to the man’s wailing. The animal noises coming from him woke up everyone in our hospital it seemed for soon enough, they were calling for doctors. The other patients sought answers or attendance of the workers.
The workers struggled to subdue him, for despite the Frank’s small size, he managed to require several orderlies and a doctor to drag him to the cell. His body shook violently and he could not stand on his legs. It was though he had suddenly been gripp
Medders Thesis: pt 6 - Lesions of the Face
§ Lesions of the Face §
The Frank did not leave the hospital. It was though God (Glory be to him) had to punish my master. Under his bindings, the Christian’s face festered a lesion that grew red and swollen in a matter of hours. The eye that had been cut from his head did not start to heal itself, instead it kept weeping pale liquid that slowly became yellow. My master was not happy when it started leaking yellow. He asked the nurses what they had been doing and he was not pleased that they did not seem to be tending the wound as often as he would have liked.
My master frowned deeper than usual when he came to the Frank that morning and checked to see how his face had swelled up like a ripe fruit. He brought me along and a bottle of ointment to sooth the lesions.
“Please,” The Frank begged, “Do not cut off my head, I assure you it still works quite well.”
My master shook his head, “Your head is no
Medders Thesis: pt 5 - Unwanted Apprentice
§ Unwanted Apprentice §
Rarely did my master shake when he performed an operation. If it did, I did not notice it for his cuts and lesions were always so clean and well placed. When he came back the next morning, he looked as though he had not slept. My master’s hands were shaking as he carefully brought me and my colleagues along to check on the new patient he had. I was surprised, as was my master. It seemed, that the man was still in his bed in the morning and not spirited away by some of his own kind. The Frank was up and sitting on the edge of his cot, his toes scraping against the ground.
“Good morning,” My master said. The strain was on his voice. My master’s wife must have taken to yelling at him last night.
The Frank did not raise his eye.
Clenching me in his fist alongside clean wraps of tightly knit cloth, my master strode over to the infidel, “May I please check your wound?”
Again, the Christian did nothing. I felt u
Medders Thesis: pt 3 - The Master
§ The Master §
My master’s name was Akil ibn Ghalib al-‘Attar. He was not a very tall man, and his skin was more light coffee colored than bronze or copper. His beard of deepest black was always meticulously groomed. He always bathed. H always kept his hands clean. He was always sure to patch his clothes should a tear appear at his robes or a loose thread appeared at his head wrap. Most everything on him was meticulously taken care of. Everything he did was meticulous.
His cheeks made valleys on his face and his brown eyes were normally tired looking as the dark lines hung below them. My master always seemed tired, caught in a constant battle with sleeplessness.
My master was also a very careful man. He was careful with his patients, he was careful with his work, he was careful with wielding me in making lesions and draining sores. He was careful with the other doctors at work, sometimes he was almost too careful. Timid is what he was sometimes, sometimes
Medders Thesis: pt 2 - Akko, the City on the Plain
§ Akko, the City on the Plains §
Stranger, let me tell you of the Akko that I remember, the Akko of so many years ago that disappeared in my absence.
The city stood upon a great stretch of plains of white and yellow that rolled out in carpets from the city wall. The land I knew was fragile, yet fertile enough to dye the hills green with shrubs and trees when the seasons called for it. The rolling hills and near mountains to the east are plotted with farming lands that bring food to the city. To the west runs a great length of beach with sands of gold and deep ochre.
A great wall encompassed the city limits like a great stone sash. I pray often that if only those walls would have stayed the Franks’ advance all those years ago when they first besieged my home. I was not born when the infidels first came into this city, but I survived the battles that pushed them out and the battle that brought them back. My brother broke his back during the second siege. He broke und
Stay with Me- Sherlock x ReaderThe last thing Sherlock had expected in his return was that you would welcome him with a smile and open arms, especially after how John had reacted. He’d walked up the steps to 221B and hesitantly knocked on the door, sure that he was going to get slapped or worse, but you’d pulled the door open and after the initial moment of shock gave a soft chuckle, “Welcome home, Sherlock Holmes.”
In all the time he’d known you, there had never been anything between you beyond a friendship that for some reason worked better than most and was stronger than he ever could have anticipated. It was something that had happened without him ever realizing, that friendship, but right now, sitting in his chair watching you making tea, he wished there had been more- not really for the love but to have a deeper connection, to escape from the loneliness he’d discovered in his heart.
He gave a fleeting smile at the skull still on the mantle before observing the rest of the fl
Masters of Disguise 1: 40-Love (Sherlockx Reader)Of course John had to be out on a date when he needed him. In the middle of the day too.
Though he supposed this solution was better in a way. You may not have been Sherlock's first choice but with you he didn’t have to worry about you getting flustered when people assumed you were a couple like he did with John.
You seemed smart enough and willing. Being amazed with his skills must run in the family. John had warned him that he’d have his head if he let anything happen to you- his baby sister. What an idiotic turn of phrase. You were hardly a baby.
At least you could play tennis decently enough to keep the cover he’d created from being blown. He abruptly ended the game when the couple he needed information from stepped on to the courts, moving towards the benches as he tried to come up with a way to engage in a conversation with them and tugged at the neck of his sweater vest.
What an infuriating article of clothing.
He let out a huff of
The Fear You Won't Fall- Mycroft x ReaderDigging a hole and the walls are caving in
Air's getting thin, but I'm trying, I'm breathing in
Come find me
It hasn't felt like this before
It hasn't felt like home before you
I have some information for my brother. Tea at noon?- MH
Mycroft let out a heavy sigh. How had he gotten himself in to this? Years and years of nothing and then you come along and change everything in an instant. He felt like every encounter with you was just making him fall further into the hole he’d dug himself and yet he still sought you out as often as he could. It was a direct contradiction to his beliefs and a continuous source of confusion for him.
All his life he’d felt above it all, like some superior entity watching over this insignificant world- a world he didn’t belong in. But when he was with you it was like he’d been blind, the world suddenly seemed interesting and so comfortably real, and suddenly he felt at home.
How long could he keep hiding that f
Star Crossed (Spain x Reader)
(Spain x Reader)
Sneak Peak to a (possible) Summer series; depends on if you all like it.
“Because,” he paused and I held my breath, awaiting the inevitable words of my utter and total demise. “I love you.” He’d broken my walls, and entered without so much as a smile and a simple, Hola.
“What’s it like being an outcast?” He questioned, all hidden remorse aside, a small smile on his lips, this was rich. I patted my hands against my thighs rhythmically only for the best of my intentions to fling out.
“It’s actually rather lonely in all honesty.” He nodded and pulled his fingers through his chocolate curls. “I’m happy though.” I sighed and gazed over to the slowly peaking stars just over the orange horizon. It was getting lat
MoD 2: Astrophysics (Sherlock x Reader)What had just happened?
Once second he was desperately trying to remember any information on his hard drive about astrophysics- damn that pointless field- and the next you were flawlessly gabbing with the target, keeping your cover from being blown wide open. There was a definite advantage to having you along. Though he’d already gathered that from the tennis case.
Stupid sweater vest had given him a rash.
Sherlock blinked, glancing over at John to find your brother was equally confused, if not more so.
Definitely more so.
“Don’t mind them. He’s a chemist. You know how they are- no consideration for the bigger picture... and my brother there is here for a theater lecture. Token creative type, you know,“ you offered the young scientist, giving a quick grin as you adjusted the thick framed glasses on your face.
Shame they were fake. You looked… presentable with glasses.
Now that he thought about it the
Boy (2p! America x Reader)
(2p! America x Reader)
This was just a spark of the moment, why not? Wrote it in one sitting, sorry if it sucks. I felt my fingers begin to write on their own and before I knew it I had a whole plot and characters. Like a warm up I suppose? Music makes you do crazy things; since I listen to music whenever I write it can really change my mood so you may see it in this writing style. Think nothing of it.
Song(s)– Boy by Emma Louise https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Xl6IaSvyIOk
“Can you at least pretend like you love me? I’ve tried and tried again to grab your attention!” I sighed and yelled through the phone yet again, my elegant (h/c) falling from its bun. This was the fifth fucking time thi
Elements Combined- Bruce x ReaderTo the girl I told to run away
The ghost I saw a hundred times a day
You weren't like me, no you weren't afraid
Bruce’s heart broke at the tears in your eyes as you blinked it him in disbelief before turning on your heel to leave him alone.
Alone is what he had.
Alone protected him… protected you.
That was what was important, right?
He sank down in the chair at his station in the lab, holding his head in his hands as what he’d just done sank in. He’d told you, the woman he loved, to leave- to get out of his life. And the reason he gave? He didn’t love you. The hurt in your eyes had torn him apart inside but he needed you to run. He needed you to run from him to someone who could keep you safe.
Someone who wasn’t a monster.
He ruffled a hand through his chocolate curls knowing there would be more gray hairs after this and then leaned forward to throw himself into his work as a distraction.
It didn’t work.
The lab felt empty withou
Chapter OneCrystal Hays quickly threw on her clothes, not giving much thought to her outfit. She ran a brush through her messy hair, wondering for a moment if she should just touch up the uneven bangs that she had cut by herself the night before. In the end, however, she decided to leave it. After surveying herself in the mirror, she gave herself a nod of approval before turning towards her bed.
A black backpack laid on top of her comforter along with an assortment of notebooks, pens, pencils, and various other school supplies. Normally she would have taken special care to arrange all of it neatly. Today, however, she was running late, and so it all got thrown into the backpack haphazardly. She was about to zip it up but hesitated, kneeling down and sticking her hand underneath her bed to pull out a book. It was leather bound, the spine cracked and worn with use. Crystal bit down on her bottom lip as she debated whether she should take it along or not.
Just then her bedr
There was always something new to be learnt here in this makeshift hovel that lay deep within this forsaken jungle. Many would say that life for Vagus the Totodile was not good enough for him, but it was his father who would say that it was Vagus who was not good enough for life. His father; the one he who ruled as king of Vagus’ small world had declared him useless and thus he conceded that he was indeed so.
Life had no room for weakness and weakness was all that Vagus had to offer. Vagus had seen firsthand what happened to those who were weak, the creatures of this jungle that were foolish enough to challenge his father. A Salamence, despite boasting the attributes of a freak of nature, lay torn to pieces in a nearby clearing. A pair of Rhydon, who attempted to intrude upon his father, lay with their rock like chests shattered and insides strewn on the ground. In the very hut which he sat, the skulls of an Aggron, a Haxorus, a Dragonite and several Tyranitar adorned the w
Medders Thesis: pt 4 - Eye
§ Eye §
There was the sound of scraping and the door to the practice was thrown open. In staggered an old proprietor carrying a Frankish crusader across his shoulder. The Frank had one hand covering his face, the red of blood seeping through his boney fingers. Unlike others of his kind that had been brought in here, screaming over nothing but bruises as though they had their bones broken, this one was as quiet as the desert evening.
“What is happening here?” my master spoke when he came to meet them.
“This man was in a fight, he has an injury to his eye.”
“Bring him to the bed.”
The old proprietor brought the Christian to an empty cot in the corner of one of the rooms. With that my master thanked him for bringing the other Frank in and let him return to his shop.
The Frank remained stoic on the bed, his hands clenched tightly at the blankets. So tightly, that his boney knuckles were turning white.
Her CatalystAs she walks through the maelstrom, the words trace upon the tips of her fingers and press into the stone. Every brick, every crack in the concrete, every crossed and angular stroke in reds and blacks and oranges. The drips of the gasoline pool around the base of her boots, slosh as she steps over the burst pipes and the rubble.
So much rubble. So little outcry. The silence of the city grates on her eardrums and the mantras she'd been forced to memorize. The Seers demanded they observe thirteen years of recitation before they attempt to weave their first World together.
But who other than the Seers can claim the incantations that knot the skeins they twist and pull on like reins hold fast? When have any of the Sisters recorded the visions they traced upon space-time and recited them, left them open for critique and discussion and debate?
Which is why she walks through the chalky soot of the smashed city around her. This all
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