SomethingMusical007

UkraineXFem!Reader (Yuri) "I'm so sorry little brother! I hope we can see eachother again!" Katyusha said to her little brother while running away with tears in her baby blue eyes. Ivan tried to stop her , but she was already gone. The Soviet Union had collapsed, and Katyusha was now on her own. Independent. Alone. Ukraine started to wipe her tears and then looked around and cried out. "Does anyone want to be my friend? Hello, somebody?" Nobody answered. In fact, nobody even noticed her. Katyusha started to walk down the street. "I wish ñåñòðà was with me...even though I want to be independent, I still w

Today was the big day. Despite the abundance of banners, garlands, confetti and all manner of celebratory decoration about the village, the atmosphere was not a pleasant one. Tables stood groaning with the momentous weight of food stacked high atop them, the very best that the village had to offer. Not a bit of it had yet to be eaten. The air of fear about the place gave even these cheery accessories an uncomfortable edge, like the very air was turning it poisonous. Sour, like bad milk. Even the dazzling rays of the rising sun do nothing to dissipate the tension. You, you are sweetly oblivious. Mainly because you've been stuffed to the gil

You were warned about the humans. Repeatedly, in fact. But you just can't help yourself. The truth is, humans totally fascinated you. From their clothes, houses, weird machines and the way they went about their everyday lives...it was an endless source of interest to you and your fellow fae. Older fairies kept telling you that, as interesting as they may be, humans were to be treated with caution. Fairies might have magic, but humans have traps and are clever, especially if they see something they want. You are no match against these mysterious giants. You've always found this rather strange- not many humans can even see fairies, after al

A single coin is enough to change everything. From his vantage point, Kiku observes your trembling form with a dispassionate expression, mouth set in a thin line. Despair comes off you in clouds, as if you are exuding your own personal perfume. Your eyes follow the journey of the coin as it disappeared into the altar with a satisfying sound to confirm its landing before you begin, staring at the floor. "Please..." The beg jolts the young God, so acute is the loss withheld in your shaking form. "I know what is done cannot be changed..." you begin, speaking in a quavering voice, tears spilling down your face like rain.”...But I beg fo

Greg slammed his fists on the desk, his deadly glare pointed at the dark haired detective across from him. "You always solve the case. You always solve it. NOW. I need it now." "I am trying, Lestrade," Sherlock's voice came out as barely a whisper as he paced the length of the office space. "I need it solved now. That's my girlfriend! Her life on the line! For god's sake," Greg yelled before collapsing in his chair with a defeated sigh. John came over to Greg, placing a steady hand on his shoulder. Greg covered his face with his hands, taking in shaky breaths. "They should have put someone else on the case. You're emotionally compromised,"

“Where the bloody hell is everyone?” John exclaimed, hurrying around the room searching for any sign of the people who had been there moments ago. “We weren’t gone for that long.” You regard him for a moment, leaving him to search while you walk over and sit in Sherlock’s chair, picking up his violin and plucking a little tune as you thought. “Sherlock said that you were searching for a murderer that performs serial suicides,” you think out loud, “and that leaves no trace of who or whom they might be. But in order to do something of that magnitude, the murderer would have to be close to t

"What am I?" Not who, but what. "A doll. I made you." "Oh." You ingest this news with an impassive face, though since it is made of sheet metal, the blonde man supposes that it would be hard for you to properly emote. You lift a hand to inspect it. It is meticulously crafted, as would be inspected from one of the top engineers around. It would almost be able to pass for a real human hand, if not for the obvious artificial joints used to craft together your fingers and knuckles. Now another question comes. "Why did you make me?" He doesn't answer. He doesn't answer because he just can't bring himself to tell you he did not mean to bring