This is a small songfic/poem collection based on Hetalia. It is rather sad, but maybe some will be happy. They are short... so enjoy them. You may request a song and a couple, I will only write it if I want to though. I'm rather picky. This one was inspired by Radioactive by Imagine Dragons, and it's about the french revolution.
I woke up to ash and dust. I was lying in the middle of the revolution. I wiped my brow, for it was hot and the ground was dry. I had fallen asleep on the war. As soon as I sat up, I remembered why.
I fainted, bullets were firing. I could see my friends die. My lover waiting, my family... my life, going through my eyes without a purpose. I stood, for I had nothing to lose. I silently thought to myself.
'This is it... it's the apocalypse.' I'm waking up, and I feel it in my bones. Adrenaline. It could make my system blow.
I held my gun tight to my chest and with my left hand a spear. I was going to do this. I was going to beat everyone up. For him. I had to go back home for him. I suddenly hear the sound of a flag beign raised up. I smirk. The french flag. I felt the pang of realization and sighed. I can't beat them all, but I can sure do something. My clothes are rather dirty, but I can't even give a fuck about that shit. I'm gonna break in, shape the fuckers up and break out of all my chains of prison.
'It really feels like the apocalypse.' A man placed a hand on my shoulder. I nearly killed him, but he looked frightened. He seemed to be on my side, because he only wanted to give me some bullets. I didn't feel guilty of almost killing a guy though. I've done it various times before, and I'm not afraid of doing it again. For my country.
The sun is blazing up above the sky, which has clouds of ash and sweat in the air. You can smell it. It smells like victory. Like the damn system going down. I spotted an enemy. He smirked. I chuckled.
Deep in my bones, I was scared.
Then, I remembered him.
I'm doing this crazy shit for you. I hope you're still there, Arthur. With these words, Francis Bonnefoy will kill.
I adore FrUk. This one is inspired by Now you're gone by Basshunter. It's a GerIta.
A blonde sat in an empty house. Quiet, for the first time. He wasn't happy though. Now that his italian was gone, he felt meaningless. He hadn't realized he loved that dumb, childish- looking and cute brunette. He wanted him back so much, it hurt to see his photograph. He missed the boy. He always waited by the phone, reading a good book. Pictures hanged on the wall, memories now lost in time.
Now that the italian was gone, the blonde felt lonely. He always acted stern around the boy, someday he was going to leave him. But the german didn't expect the boy to leave 2 months ago. He couldn't. He still waited for missing calls, anything that made him forget those fucking pictures that now hanged meaninglessly on the wall.
He wondered if this is how things really had to turn out to be. He used to dream that the italian missed him too, but he realized he didn't, because he was still gone. He was left at home with the crazyness in his head that never seemed to fade. The house was as empty as the german's heart, without his Feli it will break apart. It won't heal, it would never go away, that insistent pain of lost. He thought of his ex-husband every day.
'When the pictures fall from the wall, I will look for you.' He made that promise. Did that mean he wasn't going to look for Feliciano?
The day of Feli's birthday, he felt a starnge thud coming from the living room. A picture fell and broke. It was of him and the boy.
He covered his mouth and weeped.
I love making blondes suffer. Still, I love my Luddy-kun. The next and last for today is inspired by Hands of Time by Rachell Diggs. AmeRus.
The blonde squirmed underneath the tightened grip of the russian's hands. He thought of what the englishman told him so long ago, when he was still a colony.
'Life is a carrousel. It dances around and mirrors everything go up and down. Be wise and stay focused on what is going on, never on the past.' The blonde now wished the magician was here. He heard the music in the background and let it take away the pain he had come to know so well now. It was slowly consuming him, a dreamy state. He wanted to go away to another land, to the arms of his 'parent'. Then he remembered something that the englishman had also told him.
'You can't turn back the hands of time, so let it go and you'll be fine.' Alfred didn't want to let go. He did not want to think that what was done was done and that it was alright. But he couldn't alter the time.
He felt Ivan leave him and he slowly drifted into a deep sleep. Another day had gone and he didn't feel it. Sorrows that he had dwelled upon had been washed away by the sore spot on his ass. He looked at the moon and thought.
'I could be gone if I try to escape. I may die. But I want to leave. Even if I die.' He let tears fall. He couldn't do it. he loved Ivan too much to leave. He couldn't turn back the hands of time so that his stupid old self can stop from loving Ivan. But then he realizes he can't do that.
He can't turn back the hands of time. He suddenly understood. It was fine the way it was, a sick love. Rape and whipping each day, that was the price. But he didn't mind. It was alright.
Woo-fucking-hoo I finished this. I'm literally jumping. Srsly. It may be short, but heck, I was tired of writing. And my right ear has an earbud since evening and now it's midnight. I should stop distracting myself with yaoi.