OffTempoPianist

if i was an object what would i be not something vital a nuisance maybe useless a step in the road passerby quickly look but carry on looking for the greater things that welcome them with open arms a flower perhaps? pretty to look at but what's inside? too many things to know and count yes, a flower perhaps, again I say a fresh face that withers away and dies to become like the dust carried away by the wind once of this world but quickly forgotten

Dancing with Fireflies How hauntingly beautiful you looked As you danced with the fireflies In the morning of the night Unaware that I was there Having followed you step by step Quietly. You, With dreams of escaping, Even for a little while Did not hear As I Blindly went through The woods after you. I stopped as I saw you stopping And waiting, Silently, But then You closed your eyes And started dancing To music only you could hear Joined by tiny floating lights. No. Not lights but Fireflies. Your emotions Flowed Into your movements As you spun Your arms and fingers Outstretched As if to encompass the night I wa

"Let's go fishing!" A voice proclaims, a little too close for your liking, accompanied with a flash of blond hair. You let out a yell and drop off the edge of the window seat with a thump. "Wha-?" "How?!" "When a door closes, find a new one, or in this case, a window," the intruder quips. He lazily reclines half in and half out of the window, one arm dangling while the other cradles his cheek, fingers slightly smudging the lens of his glasses. "That was a rhetorical question and- you don't- you can't do something like this! It's illegal! Who do you think you are?!" You scramble for the right words while rubbing your bruised side and reseat

1. Austria X Reader- Why Not? A loud, wrenching cough emerges from the man who sits on the piano bench. Fingers slipping on the seemingly endless sea of black and white keys, he strikes a wrong note. He looks longingly out the arched window and down at the fields of the mansion and the gate. The gate is his only chance of freedom but he can't escape. His fingers are numb with the daily practices and playing he must do for his masters. He's been doing this for the past hundred years. He wonders what the outside world is like. Surely not like the white, yet tastefully created room he calls his prison. No one comes to visit, because they can't.

"Are you sure?" Rosa asks, eyebrows quirked in a mixture of confusion and excitement. "Definitely!" A boy -not much older than her, or maybe even the same age- laughs lightly, his face a little blurry from the Xtransceiver screen. "How sure are you?" She asks a little skeptically, holding up her wrist to take a better look at him. "Very sure, since I managed to get a day off from work. Come on Rosa, where's the trust?" He says, pretending to be offended. "Ah, really?! That's great, Crist- I mean, Curtis! I'm happy for you, since you do need a break from working so hard, right?" Rosa quickly looks around after slipping up on his work name