A Pirate's Life For Me (Hetalia X Reader)A slice of life, action Cross-dressing!Pirate!France x 2P!Zombie!Netherlands x Alien!Feline monster!Reader that takes place on a hot day involving a tomato Francis had wandered into town with his companions, the zombie Abel, and the semi-feline ____(y/n). He walked ahead, twirling around in his rich blue dress, while Abel and ____(y/n) lagged behind. They had finally docked after being stuck on their ship for weeks. As used to it as they were...Captain Antonio was an insufferable pirate. He never shut up, and coupled with the unusually talkative Abel; yeah, ____(y/n) had been tempted more than once to return to her home planet. But she didn't. She was too attached to the rag-tag pirate crew. So, while Francis walked ahead, she stuck behind and half-listened to Abel's ramblings. The poor guy had no one to talk to when he was alive, so the least she could do was let him go on and on after he'd been killed and brought back. She noticed he talked a lot about his
Compilation of Six Word Stories -by Clever-NinjaI am an American born stranger.--Her broken neck broke his heart.--That which sustains us kills us.--You need a throat to swallow--Her life was all for not.
II.You're a freak.You're afraid of being alone.She says.No I'm not,I reply.I'm not afraid.Why are you afraid of being alone?She ignores me.I'm always wrong.I'm.Not.I yell.Why are you yelling?Calm down,Speak normally.The only times I'm heardAre the times when I yell.I tell her honestly.Is that what you believe?She asks, and I nod.That's not true.It is though.And that's what hurts to most.I say and slam the door.
I.Dear Diary,They ask me why I say I'm ugly. I think we're close enough for me to discuss this. So, without further adieu, here's why:My hair isn't like most.It's not long, soft, and flowing. It's short and course, much like a dog's.I am not skinny, nor a cute, plump weight I know and admire.My stomach is a garbage dump, piled high with chocolate I've eaten after every bad day, and lack of exercise that stems from my lack of motivation and energy.My skin is not smooth.It's a quiet, bumpy road that everyone avoids, for fear of rain, or getting caught in phantom traffic.My face is a mess.I have rough, German features, with no perks to go with it, and the crooked teeth of an Englishman.My colouration isn't pretty.I don't have pretty blonde hair and blue eyes; only dark, dirty brown hair, and eyes made of a mixture of rust and shrubbery, and skin that turns red at the slightest sign of light.I am only an overly-pathetic me, and no matter what I do, that's all I'll ever be.-an Am
Untitled"Why did you leave me?" I ask dead flowersFrom the spot on the couch I'm unable to leave."Is it my broken body?Or my stupid mind?"
Of Fantasies and RealityWhere have you gone, my love, my dear?Leaving me in this summer heat?Even though you were never here,Leaving me ‘lone on my dirty seat.The flowers touch my dainty toesAnd summer sun shines on my face.Wish you were here to dismiss my woesAnd leave love and wonder in their place.But you’re not here, with me, right now;You’re with them more, and that’s okay.I’m used to it, to this I vow.You’re a hunter, and I’m the prey.But you’re not here, not real my sweet.Only in dreams do we two meet.