writing and writing and writing and writing

Every Human being on this planet with a soul is Evil. There is Evil in Your Heart. There is Evil in My Heart. There is Evil being sown in every childs heart, and reaped in every adults heart. There are stresses and mundanities alike that bring out the worst in us. You're bad. You've done bad things, think about it. Be honest with yourself. Have you hurt people? Have you hurt yourself? Have you neglected your fellow man? Have you neglected yourself?

There is immense pain within each of us. Suffering that we can never name properly, and issues that we try to grasp so we can make the most of what we have left when we strip ourselves from our moaning and our aching. Not opposite, but right alongside our fears and our pains our suffer; intertwined like lovers in the dark, sweaty, miserable, and warm, summer night; lie our dreams our hopes our aspirations and our passions. We see them, vaguely, and confused we long for something more. Always more. We are greedy, and we are selfish, and we each want something. Some things we can find- others that simply aren't attainable. That greed and that selfishness is Evil, & that greed and that selfishness is Divine.

You Want Something.

You Burn For Something. If there is something that keeps you awake at night, that haunts your dreams, that permeates your waking thought, and makes you sob like a child- then rest assured that you are a divine creation. Made not in anyone's image, but nonetheless given a spark of life. Within your heart lies old reliable fears, and wild dreams.

Your heart, as with every living heart on this planet, grows Evil. not alone though, as Evil can't grow alone. In the ecosystem of your soul, evil sprouts and grows, but only in the presence of Love. Within your heart, within my heart, within the hearts of all humankind- there is a garden of Love and Hate, Callousness and Kindness. Within you, there is grand theatrics, and apathetic tendencies.

Because you Are.

You are Evil you are Malice you are Love you are Kindness you are capable of anything.

Both Amazing highs, and pathetic lows.

Your crippling fear and your insatiable hatred, holds hands with your courageous love and unstoppable drive.

Some days, you're going to feel nearly nothing but pain. Nonetheless birds will wing, the sun will rise, music will play, rivers will run, parents will run late to work, and air conditioning units will blast, even when you insist the rhythms of the world don't concern you. You will hurt, yourself and others. As you are human. Other days, nothing will go unnoticed, and you will share little secrets with the world around you. You will see frogs, and lizards and squirrels do things that you wish you had recorded but instead they will be small gifts for you. You will feel love. You will feel kindness and grace. Sometimes, one of these phenomenon will interrupt the other. But I believe in you. Your Life will be Worthwhile. The Pain will never be for naught. The Joy will never be wasted on you. You will never deserve any of it, because it can not be deserved.

I believe in all of this, because I have seen it. And I believe in you.

You are here, and I believe in you.

(past tense)

As in, we don't talk anymore.

As in I blocked your Facebook, Instagram, and your phone number.

As in, I avoid the entire neighborhood you live in to be safe

As in, I don't care anymore whether I'm good enough for you

At least, I don't want to.

Maybe if U say it enough it will be true.

Lied

(Past Tense)

As in you can't fix it

As in nobody can fix me

As in, I learned better because the last time i

Trusted

(Past Tense)

As in, you hurt me

As in I don't tell you where I work

Where I live

Who I'm dating

What I major in

Why I left.

Forced.

(Past Tense)

As in, I didn't have a choice.

As in you threatened me

As in you scared me

As in I

Tried

(past tense)

As in, you exhausted me

As in, I no longer care.

As in nothing meant anything to me as much as

Your Approval

Your Opinion

You're Smile

Your Laugh

Your Attention

Cried

(Past Tense)

As in I'm done.

As in, teenage nights hidden behind the blowup mattress in our room

As in your mother's house

As in trying not to upset anybody while you were in class

As in wrists hidden under jackets in late March that you never saw

As in stealing band aids from my uncles

As in being afraid to wear shorts around the hosue

As in it's over and I don't need you anymore

But maybe you'd like to know

Or maybe I need the closure

Lost

(Past Tense)

As in the games you played with me

As in the way you coached me to talk in therapy

As in I'm never coming back

As in good riddance and goodbye

This is an Apology from your son

For not being the daughter you needed

And more importantly

This is an Apology to myself

Hetalia Oneshot, Angst

France, America, England, Canada, Spain, Monaco, Seychelles. Mentions of: Greece, Belgium, Neyherlands, Ancient Greece, Rome, Gaul, Native America/Iroqois, J'eanne D'arc

TW: Family, TW: Loss & Greif, TW: Parent Loss,

Francis speaks fondly of both of his parents, Rome & Gaul. "They were both wonderful warriors, and passionate Artists." He'd hold Michelle, Matthew, or Marianne all but hostage for ages, "Mama always saw him as more a rival, than a threat. Frustrated with him, but always hoping for the best." He'd tell Arthur, Alfred, Antonio, anybody who would listen that, "Papa was ruthless at times, but back then you had to be. A ladies man, but a good man."

"You get your charm from him," Antonio would tell him, with a sigh, "From Papa. You take after him."

"Though I've earned my spirit from Mama." Francis would add, "She was always a passionate soul, and a skilled warrior. Never gave up, on anything or anyone."

Antonio always smiled back, "I wish I could have met her, she reminds me of my Mama."

"Who you take after."

"If you say so."

"You would have loved her."

"So Rome softened you up??" Alfred would laugh, "Damn, then I wish I could have met your mom then." Francis would shrug, "She was a wonderful role model, even if her maternal instinct was more, unconventional. She never quite understood my differences from her, but she always embraced them."

"My mom too." Alfred would say, making a momentary eye contact, revealing just too much emotion.

Francis would side eye him, "And where would we be without our mothers...?" While taking a drink.

"Sounds like you were her favourite." Marianne would say over a hand of cards.

"She didn't pick favourites though," Francis would tell her as he sorted his hand. Knowing Greece had always favoured her son over Monaco, "She loved Emma and Jan just as much, even if they were quieter."

"Well I'm glad she loved you." she say, a vacant look in her eyes.

"She would have loved you too, darling." Francis would reply in earnest, reaching out a hand on his sisters shoulder.

"I wish I remembered more of my mother..." Arthur would scoff between cups of tea, "Here you've got stories for years, and all I know is that she was surprised to have a blond son. It's a crime that my brothers arent any help."

Francis would shrug, "Well you do remind me of my Mama sometimes. On your better days, you have her strength, and on your worse, her stubborness."

"...Really?" Arthur would always look sheepishly flattered.

And Francis would reply playfully, "Though, my mothers eyebrows were nicer."

"Would she like me?" Michelle would ask, bashfully, "Not that I'd care!"

"You'd remind her of herself, I'm sure. But with my fashion sense." Francis would swing his daughters hand while they walked down the coast.

"That wasn't an answer."  She'd huff.

He'd scoop her into his arms, "Yes, She'd adore your energy, my darling. Your heart and your smile."

Matthew would listen well to Francis' stories.

"And so the next day, she got me a dress, even if she refused to wear them herself."

"Sounds like she fell for your classic puppy dog eyes." He'd smile.

Francis would chuckle, "Ah, but of course she's the one who taught them to me. She let herself fall for them."

"You do take after her a lot."

"I do indeed."

Wherever Francis was upset, or scared, the thought of his Mama would console him.

"She's watching me from heaven." He'd tell himself. He'd imagine his own arms were hers, keeping him safe when he needed her most.

He'd pray to Jeanne, "I hope you could meet her. You always had the same fighting spirit, and you were both there for me when I needed you most... Tell her I love her."

It was always quite strange how she seemed to be within every one of his friends and his family. He'd tell you he, "sought out traits she had, in others." He'd say, "It was natural."

But he'd never quite know if he accumulated friends with her traits, or if she had been an accumulation of his favoured traits.

Life is always so hard, and I know I shouldn't act so needy,

But I need validation to know indeed,

That I'm not doing wrong. You know, I trust you

Very much, to help me see if what I do

Is what I should do, because it's all so new.

I'd lived life halfway, resigned to some fate that

I made myself, to avoid any combat

Struggle or pain, So I really can't tell now

If I'm acting out, or if I should allow

My life to stay where it's been, because it just

Hurts to change, but it hurts to stay, and there must

Be an answer, but this strong mistrust

Of my judgement won't leave, anytime soon

So please talk to me because I'm so afraid.

.

Sometimes I pretend that none of it's real.

But when you say nothing, I can't help but feel

Disappointing. Now I know that It's dumb,

But it's hard, and makes me hold my tongue.

I'm just so lonely here inside my head,

If you knew all the things people have said

To me, if you knew the feelings I feel,

Would you still think that I deserve to heal?

I can't tell if any of it's real,

If I'm just too dramatic like they say,

Or if I should get up and if I may

Be allowed, by you, to go run away

From it all, or from the fall, of hurting

Regardless of how I've been averting

My eyes, distracting my thoughts, or skirting

Around... Regardless of whether I've strayed,

My shadow is a boy

He still stands taller than I do

My shadow had squared shoulders

I wished I was allowed to

.

My shadow is a boy

His hair was short, it was slicked back,

My shadow was free, while my

Hair was confined into a pullback.

.

My shadow is a boy

His chest much easier hidden

My shadow doesn't bind his, and

Of mine, I wish to be ridden.

.

My shadow is a boy

But I'm a shadow on my own

A shadow of myself

I've got a close friend.

He's always been there,

He follows me 'round

We're a nice lil' pair.

.

Sometimes he has curves,

Sometimes he's more flat.

I think he deserves

To be less, well, matte.

.

I'm the only one

They notice or see,

but he's worth a ton,

And he's part of me.

.

Sometimes we're alone,

It's just he and me,

But I'm still complete,

Long as I have he.

.

His shoulders are wide,

His hair is slicked down,

He has quite a stride

And never a frown.

.

Sometimes I feel lost.

I'm comic relief,

While he calls the shots

Being boyflux is like you have a cat and that cat is your gender and then sometimes he leaves the house and you have no gender but you still have a house and nothing else in your house changes

but sometimes he comes back and has dead mice for you and you cry and the mice are dysphoria.

Hetalia Oneshot. Angst.

Francis, Jeanne D'arc, Ludwig.

TW:Human Death, TW:PTSD, TW:Nightmares, TW:Violence, TW:War

Francis had been quite accustomed to war.

He had long ago accepted it as a part of his long life, and it was long ago that he had first been overwhelmed with the feeling of death. He had many times felt his body go numb, many times he had felt the sting of a blade against his skin, and he was well prepared for a cold blade to peirce his warm beating heart, forcing it to sputter out to a stillness.

He knew how a broken heart felt.

He had known the terror of having his own life in danger, but it was nothing compared to the helplessness he felt within himself as She threw herself into danger.

He had never felt his heart peirced the same as he did when he saw a long metal blade tear through the skin and flesh of a young girl. His heart had never been torn apart as ferociously as he did the moment he realised she had fallen limp. He looked on, as tears burned through his eyes and blurred the scene in front of him as he saw blood flood through her clothing staining his brave, beautiful, foolish, young, Jeanne, a dark crimson.

Then, almost as soon as it had all come together, the scene had completely vanished in front of him, and he found himself instead in complete darkness.

He Bolted upward into a sitting position, in a cold sweat, tears still burning in his eyes. He could feel his heart pounding in his throat, and though he was nearly afraid he would choke, with some effort he finally found the air within his lungs to let out short, choked sobs.

He knew what a broken heart felt like, but he knew nothing could prepare him for what it felt like.

With his eyes blinking to adjust, the unknown slowly became familiar, the satin sheets in his bed, his sturdy nightstand, his reading glasses, his iPhone, the drapes drawn over his windows, were tangible, were near him, and were real.

He aknowledged the scene that was before him hadn't been, that he hadn't really seen his Jeanne die.

But that didn't make the dream sting any less, the knowledge that she was long gone was still painful, and as he pushed his covers aside, he held himself, trying to breathe while being consumed by memories and nightmares alike.

Memories of her happy, memories of her angry, memories of her as a general, memories of her as a friend, memories of writing her, memories of fighting along her side, memories of seeing her off, memories of losing her, memories of reading the letter, getting the information, and learning that after all she did to help him and protect him, he couldn't watch her close enough, He didn't keep her safe.

Though through his tears he saw a bright blue light suddenly illuminate the room, the rays of artificial light struck the white ceiling, the still drapes, and the frilly lampshade on the nightstand.

Francis are you still awake?

Francis read the text on his phone while wiping away tears, Just as a rush came in.

If not that's okay, get back to me in the morning.

I was hoping you could look over some things, perhaps a second opinion could make them easier to express.

Though it isn't urgent, so it's okay to help when you do wake up.

I'm Sorry for sending these so late at night, I've lost track of the time.

And of course you shouldn't worry about me overworking myself, it's just important work.

Not important enough to wake you though.

I'll be back in the morning, Francis. Bonne nuit.

All of the messages had been left under the familiar contact name, Lou-Lou. After reading through them, he had been able to regulate his breathing properly, and though shakily, he responded.

I'll be sure to look over it in the morning, Ludwig.

You're doing wonderful work.

And then a response

You haven't even checked it yet, Francis.

Basse toi, accept the compliment.

Of course. Danke.

Fick dich auch, You still haven't checked it.

Francis found himself softly chuckle, as his mouth curled into a small smile, light dimly by the pale light from his phone screen. Then he found himself for nearly an hour, in a lengthy correspondence with his colleague. Concerning reports and presentations for the next mornings meetings. They sorted out agendas, rules, careful word choices, notes, seating arrangements and many technicalities. A brief mention of nightmares came up, though quickly discarded, and a final agreement that they both needed their beauty sleep. Quickly followed up by the concern of nightmares, again, only for Francis to kindly but firmly insist,

All is well, darling.

Bonne nuit, J'adore Lou-Lou.

And the subsequent reply,

Danke. I'll see you at work tomoorow.

Goodnight.

With this Francis let the blue light strain his alredy old eyes, while he sighed. The time stamp 2:14 AM burned into his eyes. Part of him wanted to tell Ludwig about his nightmares, 'he had become a close friend as of recent...' Then, slowly he closed his eyes, and lay down, as his phone screen dimmed and turned black in his hand. As Francis fell asleep he thought, 'maybe in the morning...I don't want to stress him out more.'

In another bedroom, while powering down his laptop, and putting his glasses down, another man found himself yawning. 'He never does seem to be completely okay...' Ludwig thought while stretching his arms over his head. He tried to settle comfortably into his own bed. Then, before letting himself doze off, he sent one last message, and turned off his phone.

Ich Liebe Dich Auch, Francis.

I know what it's like to have the parents we do

Even though I'm aware I have never been you,

But I see a young boy, and I know I once knew

One so lonely, tired, who didn't know what to do

With himself. So sometimes when I look and see you,

I get this overwhelming sense of deja vu,

I wonder, worry, what if you're broken too?

I think to myself, and I just wonder who

Would you have if I up and left? What would you do,

How would you react, feel, if our plans all fell through?

But I must let go of my past, but if I do,

I'm terrified of giving up on your future in the process.

.

I ride a fine line between self-care and selfishness.

I don't want to leave you trapped inside this mess,

A home so broken I feel it's always been less

Than a home. It put all of us through so much stress,

it created an unecessary excess,

But if I soon leave, I just want to address

That all I can do now, is hope you escape this mess

Yourself, but I won't forget, and nevertheless,

I'll Always Love You.

I know One day, this matter, I may Reasses,

But for now I know I should try not to obsess

About my anxieties, instead I should press

For my own growth, try to secure my own success.

So though I'm not qualified to protect

You now, as when I think I strongly suspect

That staying for your sake could have less effect

Than intented, or needed, I'll instead elect

To lead by example, and I hope you can see

That when I do what I think is the best for me

That I hope you would follow my lead and we

Can Both

Be Okay.

...

American Revolution oneshot. Staring Alfred & Francis, with a sense of brotherhood.

Complicated Emotions. SFW.

Tonight was a night of celebration, finally having shown his cause was legitimate and worthy, America had gathered the support he needed from Spain and France.

Tonight was a night of celebration, finally Alfred was going to have his first drink with Francis, Antonio, and Gilbert.

The first round, Gilbert bought, Strong Ales, to show how proud he was that Alfred actually learned from his training.

The second round Antonio bought, rum, with a toast to kicking Arthur's Ass, as he had one as flat as the world they once believed they lived on, that they agreed had a magnetic draw to feet.

The third round, Francis bought, a fine wine, as he told Alfred about how he deserved finer things in life. The wine being the first, His independence being the next.

They laughed, they sang and they reveled in their comradery, as they let themselves relax and enjoy themselves. It was a night of celebration after all.

Alfred hadn't before felt so much appreciation, and he wasn't sure if it was the burning feeling the alcohol had inside of him, or the arms slung around his shoulders, and hands grasping his arms that did it, but both were something he knew he'd never forget. He proved himself to be able to hold his liquor better than Arthur ever could, and every compliment the older men gave him on his strength that night made his heart swell up with pride.

They hadn't quite gotten through the fourth round when Gilbert showed his age and started to doze off. Then he passed out completely. Francis kissed Antonio's cheek, and in a sweet voice, asked him to get Gilbert back safely. Antonio kissed Francis' forehead, and carried Gilbert off.

So then there were the two of them, on their sixth round of drinks. Red wine in hand, and red blush on their faces, their smiles glowed, but they didn't speak for a while. They sat and Alfred looked into his swirling glass, his thoughts drifting through it as if it were an open sea. His smile softened, as he kept the calm but prideful feeling from before and he locked it away onside of him, every recent memory from the night. Every Smile. Every Laugh. Every Joke... Because it was real.

But for a moment everything almost felt too real. As much as he knew he wanted this, and he had worked for it to begin, he also had the reality that somebody so close to him had pushed him this far. That Arthur really was going to fight him, as a Country, as America.

Eventually, after what may have been centuries to a drunk young man, he looked up, at the eyes he could feel were looking all but into his thoughts. The darker blue eyes, older, with a soft sadness to them that he could recognise the same way they recognized his. Sure Francis had a smile as well, but they were two of a kind in a way, and it wasn't until that moment that Alfred had realised it. Both sets of blue stared back, to see another man who, while being either younger, or older, tried to hide something he couldn't behind his smile. Francis' deep ocean blue eyes looked into Alfreds soft sky blue eyes, and with a bright smile, suggested they catch up to Toño and Gil.

Alfred agreed.

A few weeks later Francis and Alfred found themselves alone together again. In the night, when mens thoughts consumed them the easiest, they sat together in the cold air.

Sitting cross legged next to him Alfred looked over, and Francis stared into the fire, with thoughtful eyes and said, "You're really an amazing young man."

Alfred squinted his eyebrows in confusion and replied, "Thanks, you're not bad yourself."

Francis shrugged, "Hmm, perhaps...", and felt Alfred stare at him with a questioning look.

"I believe I have a confession to make to you, mon ami."

"Oh uh, fire away." Alfred laughed.

Francis continued not to make eye contact as he closed his eyelids, still facing the fire, "I didn't truly come here to help with your independence."

Alfred blinked, "Pardon-moi, but, the Fuck is that supposed to mean, Sir?"

"Well, my help is supposed to come with strings, to say his Majesty expects we are fighting not so you will not be a colony anymore but so that you won't be an English Colony."

A confused Alfred held his breathe, "So you just want to own me? Francis, why the hell would you-"

"Because Francis doesn't want to." Francis interupted him, finally looking back into to his eyes, "... When I first started to help I'll admit I felt it would be best, and there are worse outcomes. But I know your allies, and I am afraid Spain could have similar intent... Even if Antonio doesn't."

There was a pause.

"... So you want me to be aware that nobody sees me as an equal?" Alfred snapped with a sour look, as he crossed his arms, looking into the fire.

They were both quite for a moment as Francis looked at Alfred.

"Non. You are an Amazing young man, and as much as I have been told it will be in my best interest as France to try to conquer another colony, it seems my heart has betrayed me. I'd prefer to have you as an Ally, As A friend." And he looked back to the fire, sighing, "As Francis, I want us to make sure everybody sees you as more than an equal."

Alfred looked back and stared at Francis' silhouette for a moment, before turning to the fire as well.

After a long silence, the sounds of Gilbert and Antonio arguing came from a nearby tent, and the younger boy leaned his head on the older man's shoulder, "... We better kick Britain's Ass then."

A FRUK Oneshot

Fluff and Romance. Sfw.

Francis felt Arthur's hand clasp to his as their arms swang lightly between them. The only sounds on the boardwalk were that of their shoes tapping along the bricks, and the crashing of the waves against the rocks under them. The lights of boats on the water shone brightly, almost as bright as the stars did overhead, which, Arthur noted, almost sparkled as much as Francis' Saphire eyes did when he caught a glimpse of them.

They walked for a while in a comfortable silence, stretching out and filling the gap between them, Francis with a soft smile on his face, Arthur with a look of casual content.

Francis took a deep breath in as they walked, and closed his eyes moment. Arthur looked over, his head only slightly turning as he looked out of the corner of his eye, to admire Francis' stubbly smile, and his curled locks cascading down his back and over his shoulders. His silhouette dimly lit against the dark ocean backdrop, had Arthur holding his breath.

In roughly the same moment Francis opened his eyes again, and almost immediately turned to his lover, catching only a glimpse of his eyes as he looked off to the distance. Francis smiled, let out a chuckle, and just like that the silence was broken. Pulling himself closer to Arthur, who's face was slowly turning more scarlet, Francis lowered his head onto Arthur's shoulder, "You blush far too easily."

"I don't know what you're talking about." Arthur scoffed, holding back a smile.

Francis closed his eyes, all but hanging off of Arthurs arm, "Ah, that is your sunburn then."

Arthur scrunched up his face, "Oh sod off, I didn't get burnt." While actively looking away from the other.

Francis laughed, "Ah, you look as a crab." While raising his head and opening his eyes again, facing the crabby boyfriend of his.

"Oh shut up." The crabby boyfriend insisted, scarlet as ever.

"C'est Mignon." Francis laughed, "Though I did tell you to put on more sunblock.", And smirked, only to be groaned at as the comfortable silence fell back over them.

After looking around at the silhouettes of streetsigns, Francis faced out to the skyline again, unknowingly tugging Arthur a bit closer to the water, who couldn't stop staring at him. The boats and stars lit up the sky and sea in front of them, and Arthur once again found himself admiring every detail of Francis' silhouette.

After some time, Arthur felt himself abruptly stopped, as Francis gently tugged his arm toward the water. "Ah, Nous Voilà." And confused, he stumbled after Francis down a wooden staircase. "Francis it's much too dark for the ocean." He mumbled, hesitantly watching the water pull on and offshore.

"Don't worry, we're staying on land." Francis reassured Arthur, who's hands were already sweatier than before, "And I wouldn't let you drown anyway. Trust me."

Soon there were two trails of sandal and flip flop footprints down the sandy beach. Winding up and down the shoreline, dipping into the wetter sand, partially erased from the world, they led to where Francis had now unfolded and set a towel down for them both to sit on.

Arthur did so hesitantly, "Really darling it's quite late." He argued, as Francis rolled his eyes, responding, "Which means we get the cove to ourselves." As he sprawled out on the towel, "Lover's Cove, all to ourselves."

At the realisation Arthur raised his eyebrows, consciously rolling his eyes, "You bloody idiot..."

"The word you're looking for is romantic."

They stared eachother down for a minute as Arthur sat up next to Francis. A forced furrow of Arthur's eyebrows, and the beaming grin on Francis' face kept it comfortable.

"Lay with me." Francis suggested, as he looked up past Arthur to the stars.

And Arthur sighed, letting himself do so, while mumbling, "I won't enjoy myself though." As he let Francis wrap an arm around him, and mimicked the action.

Francis laughed, "Ah of course you won't. And I suppose you won't carry me back to the hotel in two hours either?"

"I most certainly will not." Arthur scoffed, turning his face toward Francis', squinting as he lay on his arm.

"Magnifique." Francis said, gazing into Arthur's Emerald Green eyes, insisting, "Then your eyes don't sparkling like stars." As Arthur looked down, with a small smile, "Well, Yours don't either." As he snuggled closer.

"How Rude you are." Francis all but whispered, with a smile on his lips.

"Very." Arthur stated, voicing his smile in the darkness.

They lay for a while in comfortable silence.

The lights of boats on the water shone brightly, almost as bright as the stars did overhead, which, Francis noted, almost sparkled as much as Arthur's Emerald eyes did when he caught a glimpse of them.

The only sounds were that of their steady breaths, and the tide washing on and offshore near them.