I'm SorryTitle: I'm SorryI'm Sorry in Fan Fiction More Like This
Pairing(s): Russia/China, England/China, mentioned America/England, mentioned France/England, mentioned Greece/Japan
Warnings: slash/yaoi, angst, implied sex, M-preg, adultery
He sat there in complete silence. He stared hard at the chair that had been flipped over. He looked at the shattered plates and the broken pieces from the window. Vodka stains were on the wall and the floor from when the half-empty bottle of Vodka was thrown. The blood stains had been splattered on the dining room floors, but it wasn't his. It was his lover's, or maybe now ex-lover's.
China sighed and slowly got up from the table. This was all his fault anyway. He wouldn't be surprised if the Russian never came back and cursed him for the rest of his life.
How could he have been so stupid? He was mature, logical, and thought before taking action. And yet, he took a bite of the forbidden fruit and did the unforgivable.
It had started almost two months ago. China and Ru
I'm Always HereTitle: I'm Always HereI'm Always Here in Fan Fiction More Like This
Warnings: angst, slash/yaoi, mild violence, mentioned self-harm, memories of murder
"Bitte!" she begged him. "Er ist nur ein Jungs...! Tötet stattdessen mich! Lasst ihn gehen!"
He said nothing. He looked back at his boss, who was smiling wickedly at him. "Hurry and do it This is what your nation wants what you want."
He turned back to the screaming and squirming young boy in his hand. He was dirty, his face covered in dirt and mud. His ragged clothes were covered in mud and grass stains from the times he had fallen. He was too thin; his arm was easily breakable and his face was starved. The boy kicked at him, desperate to set his arm free and run to the arms of his equally filthy mother. He looked at them. There was nothing wrong with them. They were German citizens; they were just a woman and her child. Why was hunting them down like savages? Even he didn't understand it. However, he was implo
APH-Asylums and Broken FlowersRussia is the blotted smears of bloodAPH-Asylums and Broken Flowers in Free Verse More Like This
On the walls of old asylums,
And the screaming of lunatics
As they talk to the moon.
Russia is the horror of the moment,
When the prisoners of invisible chains
Are forced to concede
That no one is ever coming
To free them
From the nightmare of perceived dangers
And sterile devices of torture:
That they are alone,
And always will be.
Russia is a hammer
To break bottles
And abandoned hearts.
Russia is red snow
And too many years
Of cold summers.
Russia is a child crying:
A paranoid, twisted infant
In the face of an internal and eternal
Russia is only as good as his rulers,
And the people he represents.
In his oversized body,
He doesn't know where to go,
Or who to be.
Russia is the personification
Of dead sunflowers,
And the tragedy
Under the influence
And the Northern Lights.
Because his face is splitting open
Along the seams of his mouth,
As if to mirror
The state of his
APH - Snow Storms and VioletCanada is bleach-whiteAPH - Snow Storms and Violet in Free Verse More Like This
Like brittle bones
Or the colour of curdled milk.
He is expressionless:
Forgotten and forgetful,
With violet, sunset clouded eyes,
That are as blank as the Arctic snow
In the lonely expanses
Of his heart.
Canada is young,
But sometimes, he feels
That he has lived too long;
Seen too much.
(He hasn't. He's just overcompensating for the fact
That he hasn't seen enough).
Canada is the purple bruises of steel production
On the skyline of his pretty smile,
And the crushed maple leaves
That emerge, half decomposed,
From the snow in the tentative springtime.
Canada is the anaemic, tired servant
To flags that are not his own.
Shrilly, he sings songs that do not match his heart,
Because if he danced to a melody
Reflective of his personality,
He would have to face his selfish core,
And come to the realization
That he is not a peacekeeper;
Just too afraid to fight.
Canada is a broken child:
A small, ineffective figure,
In a vast, incomprehensible world.
So in the echoing cor
A Holiday From YouFor Christmas,A Holiday From You in Free Verse More Like This
You gave me a cross
With a tortured man nailed to it,
And told me that I was evil,
And I was going to burn in hell.
You said that if I had any decency
I would build my own cross
And use it,
Because I wasn't worth anything to anyone
I told you that Christ probably wasn't born
On Christmas anyway.
For Valentine's Day,
You gave me a blank look,
And said nothing.
I took your silence
And put it inside my chest
Because it's weight reminded me of how it felt
To have a heart,
And other Vital, yet apparently nonessential
You gave me a painted egg
With delicate intricacies
Turning the shell
Into a rainbow that reminded me
Of a gay pride march,
Or an end to the perpetual rain.
But when I cracked the egg open,
It was empty.
You told me that I was greedy,
And that the shell
Was the present.
I said that the hollow egg
Reminded me of us,
And treasured the broken fragments.
For April Fools Day,
You kissed me.
I prayed to have the date wrong.
On the Summer Solst