starearthgirl

Heartbreaker!Denmark x Reader - Heart Attack --- ‘He's charming, handsome, funny, cute, loud, outgoing… God he’s perfect...N-No! I don’t like him that way.’ Many thoughts of your classmate, Mathias Kohler invaded your mind and they made your heart skip a beat. You sighed loudly as you sat up cross-legged on your bed; you scratched your head while your gaze was focused on the wall. Never put my love out on the line Never said yes to the right guy Never had trouble getting what I want But when it comes to you, I’m never good enough… It was a Saturday afternoon and you were bored out of your mind,

   1.  I say nothing I am thinking. For twelve years I have wanted to do exactly this, but suddenly pronouncing my own name calls up the question of who it belongs to in the same breath Like Solomon I was born a singer but in the wrong key and my chords will not carry me, will not summon the wolves to me only packs of hungry dogs stupid with domestication but nearly feral And like a hungry ghost I have learned not to speak against those who will give me food   2. A sketch of myself.                       He says I must have been born in the wrong culture, he says. I got a taste of the crackling heat here, heat to drive you crazy, and sud

READ ARTISTS COMMENTS FIRST! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~        Veneciano was humming as he cooked over the heated up stove. His hands copping and adding to the boiling pot of red tomato sauce and adding some little spices into the pasta water. -FLASH-Time Skip-        He started setting the table. Two plates with folded up napkin draped over the main plate, the silverware placed in their correct spot, a tall glass for the wine placed out in front to the right. Everything was looking perfect. -FLASH-Time Skip-        The Italian was sitting at the table, going over what he was go

The paper targets twisted and swayed.  You held your gun steady, standing twenty yards away, one hand over the other to steady it, eyes slightly narrowed as you aligned the sights. Slowly you drew air into your lungs. You squeezed the trigger as the air came rushing back out past your lips.  The gun spat the first bullet-- your arms tensing to absorb the shock from the kickback--as a hole ripped through the first target.  The rest spun in a fresh frenzy, dangling from the wooden beam you'd set up in the narrow alleyway. You aimed again and tore through the remaining targets in quick succession, one after the other, ears ringing with each s

Francis stood at the grave, running his finger across the name etched on it. Her name. Jeanne d'Arc.  After softly brushing off any dirt or leaves that had accumulated, he began placing a dozen red and white roses onto it.  He had done this every year on this day for decades, and this year was not an exception.  This year would have been her six hundredth birthday.  He could not believe it.  It seemed like only yesterday that it had happened. He missed every moment they had spent together; from spring days spent walking hand in hand through the flower-filled meadow to the last night they had spent together before she left.  As he placed the l

  "I-I l-lo. . . I lov-. . . dang it." Canada sighed and ran a hand through his blonde hair while shaking his head in defeat. He couldn't bring himself to say it, even when he was alone and everybody had already left-- but, then again, it's not like it would matter if they were here or not. None of them bothered to acknowledge that he present at every meeting. . . or that he even   existed at all now that he thought of it. But, there was one person who actually managed to treat him like he was an actual human being instead of some phantom. Her name was ______, and to Canada, she was the most beautiful thing he had ever saw in his life-- and

DenmarkxReader Sneakers "D-Denny wait up!" You called from behind the Danish man. You were both walking to the bar on a warm summer’s night, street lights lighting up the way. “(Name), I told you not to wear heals…” Denmark stopped and looked at you. “But they looked so good with this dress!” You whined as you wobbled down the streets. “(Name), stop for a second.” Denmark walked up to you and took off his sneakers. He handed them over to you and told you to put them on. You just looked at him confused. Denmark stared back. “…Aren’t you going to put them on?ȁ

It was this sort of obsession. Blond hair and blue eyes that burrowed into the center of that old Chinese heart. He was the perfect example of what red was supposed to look like. The people's struggle showed itself within his eyes, like a portrait of ongoing oppression and a battle that was soon to be won. Yao's golden brown stare stalked him like a wolf. And even when it couldn't, there was the evidence of that huge Russian smashed up all over his face. Like a crunched up can of capitalist soda pop. It tainted him. Turned him crimson and got him drunk on something that tasted like vodka. The characters changed to Cyrillic, and they spat f