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Britain's Worst Nightmare - Chapter 9England briskly entered the World Conference Building after parking his car nearby. On his way to the Conference Room, he collided with something in the hallways. It was America. The two men awkwardly stared at each other.
"Good morning, America," England said, moving to pass the American.
As if a light switch was flipped, America's face went from a fearful hopefulness to an extreme happiness.
"Iggy!” America hugged the Brit. "You talked to me~!"
"Everyone else said that I couldn't talk to you 'cause if you nightmares and stuff and now you've talked to me so I can be the hero and save you so you'll be okay! Are you okay?"
"I will be when you put me down!” America had lifted England well off the ground in his excitement. So America set England on his feet before sprinting away, cheering loudly about his encounter. England hesitantly followed the American down the rest of the hallway to the Conference Room's wi
Hetalia Boys: A California Gurls ParodyI know a place
Where history is made cooler
Charming, fun and wild,
There must be something in the water
Sitting at World Meetings,
Talking politics while arguing
Hang out too
Try'na sneak a little peek
You can travel the world
(You can travel the world)
But all you'll see are personified countries
Once you get to know us
(Once you get to know us)
You'll never wanna leave~
Uniforms from both the World Wars
With looks so cute,
so hot; you can't deny it
Fine, fresh, fierce
And we won't ever stop!
Country flags represent
So put your hands up
Britain's Worst Nightmare - Chapter 8.2SLAM!
“Kesesesesese~! Hey West! Did’ya miss the awesome me?”
Germany sighed. “I would like to say I did not.”
“Prussia~” Italy hugged the albino, who had just come back from who-knows-where and had decided to come back and crash at his brother’s place.
Romano scowled. “What the hell is potato bastard number two doing here?”
“Aw, Roma~ won’t you give the awesome me a hug?” Prussia teased, engulfing the Italian in his arms.
“Chigi! Let go, albino bastard!” Romano violently kicked Prussia in the shin. While the albino hopped on one foot in pain, Romano fled to the couch where England was sitting, watching the exchange in front of him in amusement.
Gilbird, who had hopped off Prussia’s head as soon as his owner had hugged Romano, flew over to hover in front of the Briton, curious ab
Britain's Worst Nightmare - Chapter 7“Why the hell are we here again?”
Canada sighed. “I’ve already told you, we have to get England’s things and secure his house.”
“Then why the hell do we have to do it?”
“Japan’s getting settled in, Germany’s busy with paperwork,, England won’t come back here no matter how hard we try, and Italy…well, you know Italy.”
“Che. Let’s just get this over with.” Romano stalked inside England’s house, Canada close behind.
“You can start picking out some of his clothes,” Canada told Romano, holding out a basket. “I have to take care of some things here, but then I’ll join you.”
With a huff, Romano snatched the basket away from the Canadian and stomped upstairs. Canada blinked, then, shrugging, started his job by fulfilling England’s strange personal request to securely bolt that metal door down the hall.
Canada entered E
American RevolutionYou’ll be gone soon.
That’s what happened with the others,
The ones I took under my wing
And cared for
Until they stripped me of my feathers
Soon, you will leave
And forget our time together.
But oh, how I will ever remember
The day you chose me – me! –
From the other suitors who would do anything for you
At the drop of a hat.
The days spent in bliss,
Spent traversing endless fields,
Taking your hand in mine,
Will soon mean nothing to you.
I know this for a fact.
Our differences will grow,
As will your height,
And you will tower over me,
And turning your back on my affections.
The fuse will shorten and disappear
Before we both lash out
Creating the worst fight;
A fight as bad
As the American Revolution.
You will win
And leave forever, rejoicing,
Leaving me in the pouring rain, in the field
Without a blade in grass in sight,
Clutching and nursing
What’s left of my shattered heart.
Britain's Worst Nightmare - Chapter 6Note: Italic sentences that seem like they don't belong are mini-flashbacks. And Canada's dialogue will be in italics as well.
"We're here," Germany announced as he parked his car. He, Italy, and England got out, dressed in their uniforms. Or at least, Italy and Germany were, England was dressed in an old t-shirt and pants of Germany's, which he was drowning in even though Italy had stitched them up so they didn't fall off his body. The three of them entered the World Conference Building, the clock in the lobby reading 8:45. Rubbing his eyes, England followed Germany and Italy to the Conference Room, where Japan and all the other Allies, even America, were loitering around the large table. As Germany went to set up at his seat on the table, England wandered over to the area where the Allies usually sat. Along the way, he stumbled into Japan.
"Konnichiwa, Igirisu. How was your morning?"
"Oh? How so?"
"I...didn't sleep well last night…"
Starlight kisses and bed sheet hugsMy teeth are
and my eyes
hold dark pockets
because of all
the late nights
I let the starlight
and my bed sheets
because I realized
you never had,
you never would.
some things are meant to be brokeni snatch at dog-eared love letters,
molded and mashed together into
a string of mismatched desires,
revolving around you.
love is a dystopia—-the never-ending cycle
of unrequited i-love-yous,
little white lies,
and carpe diem whispering,
“life is too short.”
we romanticize the beating heart,
if it walks pretty and talks pretty
it’s obviously a strung-up puppet but—-
—-just maybe you can sew him up, the craft
of needle and thread to stitch a real boy.
i breathe against the windowpane,
tracing tales of the boy with wild eyes
and a wicked heart on the frozen mosaic glass
framed by the need to save you.
when it’s over i’ll morph
into a hollow shell of a girl, waiting
for a starry-eyed boy to
wish me back to life and—-
—-just maybe we can be real together.
of goodbyeyour eyes
are painted with the saddest
I have ever seen
with the shade of sunset
and its tangerine gleam
those eyes, my love
are painted with
the colour of
Our Wings Flutter And SingOur Wings Flutter And Sing
my feet graze texas plains
southern currents hitting my back
and my body is left
as my soul follows what feels right.
my arms spread wide,
eyes closed and
i let the thought take me away.
i love this cliche
because i have wings with you.
i can fly because of you.
and no matter how many times
i scribble your name as a title of this poem,
i can never mutter it enough
because i’m addicted
to how it rolls off my tongue.
i miss you when i wake up,
when i sleep, when i dream,
because at least there
i wave in the morning
and kiss you through the night.
even departures there feels like
i’m leaving my home
to return to my house.
i think of you first and last,.
of your yawn and laugh,
how you scrunch your nose
and your little grin
even when you try to refuse it.
and i know you hate smiling in pictures,
but i make it my mission
to make you smile as much as possible.
i love how you keep your hair to one side
with the part in the middle.
i love how the l
if we were to never speak again.In silence absolute
I almost forgot you,
I almost remembered to forget
you, lonely afternoon
of naked breath,
the softness of sunset
as it rakes along my skin.
The nonchalance of the sky
almost unbearably falters
an outbreak of tears
weigh down my hair
memory of your touch,
memory of your heart,
eyes blinking through the rain
glimpses of turquoise-
blue souls dancing, but
not quite entwined.
claws into my brows,
furrows the flesh
rivulets of thought
that tear through my nervous system
cellular tinnitus, reverberations
in my spinal column,
raising mountains from
my body, darklight clouds
ghosting in the peripheries
of my vision
memory of your touch,
memory of your heart,
a lyrical tattoo
of ripened countryside
a vibrant concerto
washed between us
tidal colour drowning,
from your sweet humour
to my aching sternum
the cliffs fall away
and autumn breaks in upon us,
auburn sorrows of light
I Write to a Lover Who Doesn't ExistYou must've noticed how I was left bleeding
Because all you could do was stare
At me with those gemstones you call eyes.
We danced around bookshelves in the mystery section
Pretending not to notice each other
And ignoring the fact that our eyes kept meeting.
I wonder now that if we'd danced in the romance section
Would we have still ignored that part of ourselves?
And after all, aren't mysteries ment to be solved?
You must wash your hair with sunflower petals and pomegranate seeds
Because your aroma is that of a goddess
And I was attracted to you as quickly
As if you had called my name.
Would you call my name?
And would you say yours as well
Because although I have a feeling you go by Aphrodite,
We have not yet acquainted ourselves.
AdulationI can't take a breath
without thinking about you
when I do
it takes my breath away
every day my love for you
grows more intense
my need for you
you are as vital to me
as air and water
a smile from you
sends me to nirvana
saps my strength
every waking moment
is spent thinking of you
revolves around you
nothing makes me feel
so happy and alive
as being with you
you give so much
my heart, soul, loyalty
are all I have to offer
these you have
want them or not
I am so in love with you
my only fear on this earth
is that of you leaving me
my world would crumble
but with you near
I can survive anything
BellsNote how we've never really touched,
how only our elbows grazed each other in the darkened theatre.
No intentions, never;
only accidentals that skewered the phrase.
But darling, if I have ever not craved your chewed down fingernails grazing my cheek,
the memory has been long lost in a time of happier melodies.
From A German Soldier to His Italian FriendDear Feliciano,
This is to ease your fears,
To show that I still live
And have not been hit with a bomb
Like you probably thought.
It feels like a bomb
Impacts my heart every morning
When I wake up and realize
You are not in my bed as usual,
You are halfway across the world.
I’ve snapped at more people recently,
Been more irritable
(I thought I’d reached my limit
After I met you)
I suppose with you in my life
You have created a new schedule
For me to follow,
A hectic schedule,
One involving helping you
With everything from training
To tying your shoes.
And without you the balance
And the old routine,
The dull, repetitive routine,
Is no longer tolerable.
I hope I can get back to you soon
And hold you in my arms
And protect you again
From those you fear.
I am usually not good
At expressing feelings like this.
Inspector Wolf The old lady was dead. I could smell it before I even got into the house. The whole place reeked of adrenaline, sweat, fear, copper and steel. He’d dropped her right in her living room. Chopped and chopped until she stopped moving. But I could tell I was getting close. This had been done in a hurry, and the killer didn’t have the time to clean up after himself like he usually did.
Across the room, the phone rang. The shrill sound set my teeth to grinding, but I ignored it. Instead I followed the killer’s bloody footprints into the back bedroom. He’d climbed out the window. If I hurried, I could catch up to him and end this disgusting spree he was on.
Then the answering machine kicked in. “Hi, Gramma! It’s Red. Sorry I’m running late. I kind of lost track of time. But don’t worry. I packed the picnic and I’m heading out the door right now. Love you.”
She’d been expec
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