Whenever I feel almost free, Memories take hold of me...

Application: Tenuous Tori

Sun, 25 Oct 2009 20:43:53 GMT

Name: Tori

Contact Info: catchfallingstar@live.com

Age: 15

Gender: Female

Country: Russia! ...no, actually America.

Your Favorite Hetalia Character(s): Vietnam, Denmark, America, Prussia, England, China, Tibet, Norway, Baltic States, Belarus, Canada, Austria, Poland, all of them.

Your Favorite Hetalia Pairing(s): Too much to count

Your Favorite Fanfiction Genre(s): Steampunk, Angst, Historical, Romance, Action/Adventure, Drama

Your Favorite Non-Romantic Pairing/Grouping: The Asian dyfunctional famiry

As much as you're willing to reveal about what you do in real life: I'm a student, an Asian girl who was born in Europe, lived in China, and looks completely Chinese. I play piano, and fails at art.

An interesting fact about your or your psyche: I moved around frequently, and lived in two countries different countries before the age of five. I know Russian and Chinese. And fails at every other language I try to learn. I tend to speak English kinda quickly.

The scariest thing about you: My Art Work.

What you're most afraid of: Library fines, Asian parents, failing,

What other Hetalia fandom activities do you participate in? Roleplay, WikiLadders (That's not Hetalia. >:)

Do you want to do any shameless advertising here? au_hetalia and maybe a steampunk rp later once I get an A in Math. Dx

What is your favorite song/lyric?

so let go, jump in
oh well, whatcha waiting for
it's alright
'cause there's beauty in the breakdown-Let Go (Frou Frou_

She lives in a daydream.
I don't belong.
She is the sunlight.
The sun is gone.-She is the Sunlight (Trading Yesterday)

AM or PM? PM

Cool colors or Warm colors? Cool Colors

Favorite time of year: Winter

Current favorite fan work: Are You There God? It's Me, Canada and The Secret Life of a Reluctant Mafia Boss

Secret Confession: I'm in love with my cousin's best friend. And I'm almost friendless IRL.

Anything Else? Since I can't curse in Chinese, I curse in English at home. And that I have a huge library fine at the moment. And that I'm going to start a steampunk Hetalia rp, once I get more time.

[Icons] There is a castle on a cloud...

Sun, 27 Sep 2009 19:30:20 GMT

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Credits for the icon are not necessary (but are appreciated).
Texless icons are NOT bases. Or if they are, please make a note somewhere.
These fan arts are not mine, so I'm not taking any credit for them.
If anything belongs to you, and you want it removed feel free to leave a note.

[Icons] The sun will come out tomorrow

Sat, 26 Sep 2009 18:54:49 GMT

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Let them eat cake~

Thu, 06 Aug 2009 21:01:58 GMT

I apologize for any geographical/historical inaccuracies. Yes, we did indeed partition a cake shaped like Poland.

Key:
Hershey's Kisses: Important towns, capitals
White/Blue/Red Icing: Russia's Partitions
Black/White: Prussia's Partitions (Because we didn't have yellow)
Red/White: Austria's Partitions

And I got the most of it! *hangs head, not really* Liet-muse was pissed the entire day, while my sorta!Russia-muse was happy about it. ~~Vilnius~~ The Hershey's chocolate chip was good. xD

Basically we baked a cake and I couldn't finish all of the parts of the Partitions, so I had help partitioning it. The flags were not mine, though. >:

I want somebody like Putin~

Sat, 25 Jul 2009 16:11:22 GMT

This song is making me laugh for some strange reason. If somebody did something like this for another president/dictator/leader would it be as funny?

I want someone like Putin.
My boyfirend has got himself into trouble again,
Had a fight, downed a lot of crap.
I'm so fed up with him, I dumped him,
And now I want someone like Putin.

Someone like Putin, full of strength,
Someone like Putin, who doesn't drink,
Someone like Putin, who doesn't hurt me,
Someone like Putin, who won't run away.

I saw him yesterday on the news,
He said that the world is at a crossroads.
Someone like him is easy to be with at home and with friends,
And now I want someone like Putin.
Someone like Putin, full of strength,
Someone like Putin, who doesn't drink,
Someone like Putin, who doesn't hurt me,
Someone like Putin, who won't run away.

Lj Meme

Sat, 13 Jun 2009 20:15:48 GMT

1. Your Middle Name:
2. Age:
3. Single or Taken:
4. Favourite Film:
5. Favourite Song or Album:
6. Favourite Band/Artist:
7. Dirty or Clean:
8. Tattoos and/or Piercings:
9. Do we know each other outside of LJ?
10. What's your philosophy on life?
11. Is the bottle half-full or half-empty?
12. Would you keep a secret from me if you thought it was in my best interest?
13. What is your favorite memory of us?
14. What is your favorite guilty pleasure?
15. Tell me one odd/interesting fact about you:
16. You can have three wishes (for yourself, so forget all the 'world peace etc' malarkey) - what are they?
17. Can we get together and make a cake?
18. Which country is your spiritual home?
19. What is your big weakness?
20. Do you think I'm a good person?
21. What was your best/favorite subject at school?
22. Describe your accent:
23. If you could change anything about me, would you?
24. What do you wear to sleep?
25. Trousers or skirts?
26. Cigarettes or alcohol?
27. If I only had one day to live, what would we do together? (If you have no idea, just say something crazy, it'll entertain me!)
28. Will you repost this so I can fill it out for you?

Dusk and Summer

Sun, 24 May 2009 03:15:25 GMT

Dusk and Summer

Well, it's for a friend's birthday present. Plus the pairing's really cute. ^^

She smiled in a big way, the way a girl like that smiles
When the world is hers and she held your eyes
Out in the breezeway down by the shore in the lazy summer
And she pulled you in, and she bit your lip, and she made you hers
She looked deep into you as you lay together quiet in the grasp of dusk and summer

But you've already lost
When you only had barely enough to hang on-Dusk and Summer

It was their last night.

He pulled on my hand and brushed his fingers across mine as if to make sure they were all there. The sun was beginning to set.

Neither of us mentioned that it was our last day together. It couldn’t be helped, and it was an inevitable conclusion. What would it be like to be wiped from the map? I wondered to myself.

Sitting against the biggest sycamore tree I had ever laid my eyes on, we stood at the edge of the world on a cliff that had no end. I sat between his legs, my hands lightly resting on the arm he had wrapped around my waist.

The skies around me exploded into mirage of reds, oranges and yellows. Golden rays brought life to everything they touched.

The lake below us drowned in the reflection and for a moment I thought about something I had read once.

Something about the sun forever being held in the grasp of dusk and summer. Forever condemned to be brilliant, to be bright, and to keep the world hoping for that one time, that one day, were everything is perfect and the sun is held every bit responsible.

It so ironic, that everything is so perfect before the perfect world falls apart. Tonight, a warm night of dusk and summer.

And soon the setting sun was gone. Hidden behind a mass of rippling water and rumbling earth. In and out, my breath came in short shutters.

This was it. Breathing softly into my ear, we sat like that for a while. It was the end, the end of rye fields of laughter and of everything that was important.

It was so odd. This was the boy who had tried to attack me, he was the one who hid under Jagwiga’s skirts, he who always made fun of me, he who laughed when I accidently fell off the horse.

Slipping his arms around my waist, his lips caught mine and said all the things he couldn’t. All the things he didn’t want to. My arms trailed around his neck and my fingers tangled in his hair, loving the feeling.

Pulling him against me, I deepened the kiss and smiled when I heard and him moan. And it came from the back of his throat in an endearing silent hum.

The only sound to be heard was that of out heavy breathing. I broke the kiss and leaned my forehead against his, lips swollen and eyes happy.

“I love you.”

“I totally love you back.” And my heart swells.

Stepping away from me, He wipes his eyes. He takes a shuttering breath and tries to smile, failing horribly. This was it. This was goodbye.
He starts to walk backwards, slowing at first, but steadily growing faster. I don’t chase him even though every part of my body is telling me to. But I don’t. I don’t, because if I did, we both know nothing good would come of it. And he gets farther and farther away.

“And totally one day we’ll meet again, and you’ll finally greet me like a friend.” His voice was distant but still willing to be heard. “I’m sorry”
He stood up and got onto his horse, then rode away.

“And maybe one day we’ll meet again and we'll be together forever.” I whispered on the wind.

End

Footnote: This happened right after the fall of the Pol-Liet Commonwealth. The people in the Commonwealth were so tightly intermixed that they often had family and neighbors that are in a different section of the partition.

~~Oh a completely unrelated note (but I'm adding it to all my fanfics), we desperately need characters for~~ au_hetalia</div>

Winter Winds...like totally~

Mon, 18 May 2009 21:23:08 GMT

I screwed up soooo badly on the competition.

But I was trying to contain my laugher, I mean, just before the recital I was reading and a pianist (Wiktor) said that "Chopin can only be Poland" Well, thanks to Hetalia, I took it that Chopin is Poland. (Like totally) and then I had to play winter wind.

	- - Track 16

	Found at bee mp3 search engine

Urgh! Well, I have to upload it somewhere, and there's Winter's Wind. ^^

I should so totally cosplay as Poland and play this song. It doesn't fit his character at all does it? So hauntingly beautiful...~~maybe Austria or Russia? Hetalia-fied Poland would do better with Marzurka. ^^~~

Urgh, why do I have to do so much work? One day, I'm probably just going to collapse, and never wake up again. But then my teacher would get angry at me, because we're having a Language Showcase thing, and I'm suppose to sing in Russian (fail).

I'm just so tired, and tests are coming up again. Why can't everything just be easy, like it used to be...humph. I feel scared now..I mean, my neighbor just tried to break down my door, so we can study together...something is WRONG with that.

Oh yeah, started another rp. au_hetalia , geez...I think I just like to mod too much. But basically it's going to be that we have an AU idea, and basically Hetalia has an different AU every two to three weeks. ^^ Like one month, we can have a Harry Potter themed thingy and the next week, we could be ninjas. *is shot*

I feel like a bad person right now...too much new stuff...

Routine, it was all he looked forward to~

Thu, 14 May 2009 21:51:06 GMT

Even now, and despite all the changes that the war has brought, he is a creature of habit. He gets up in the morning, he dresses, and he goes for breakfast. He enjoys this meal most of all; he is not too exhausted to bring the fork to his mouth and return it to the plate, and there are no spare places at the table to be casually explained away.

It is usually badly-cooked scones - sometimes there is bacon and there is always toast - but regardless of content it is always his breakfast, and he is happy to accept it from a smiling

England

.

Afternoons are spent, playing cards or writing letters to his countryman, to not give up hope, that he is still a hero, while his ears listen for the inevitable siren. The order to scramble arrives sooner or later; then he’s up and sprinting with a bright smile on his face, regardless of what he’s feeling, adrenaline coursing through his veins as his heart pounds in his chest.

When he first arrived at the station he longed for nothing more than to hear that wonderful, dreadful wail.

He was young and eager to get up there, eager to do his part in bringing an end to this madness which had consumed the whole world. Now that he has aged a hundred years in one summer the sound freezes his blood and he must force his legs to carry him in a direction they do not wish to go.

It will all end soon, one way or another. It must; he has already privately acknowledged that the odds are not good. He still pretended to be a hero anyways. Mostly for his sake. He doesn’t want to give in, he wants

England

to be impressed with him.
He doesn’t hate Japan, Italy, and Germany, but he knows that he has to win. That he has to be the hero. That he has to steer his way into victory…after all, he is the hero.

There is no life outside this station, or so it seems. His leafy corner of America is for the most part absurdly quiet, but every day the newspapers bring more stories of death and destruction and fire raining down from the sky. Perhaps there is nothing left to save; perhaps there is no longer anyone to fight and die for. But then he remembers that there is, there is England’s smile waiting for him.

He does not remember the boy he was before all this started, and he does not know this man he has become. He longs for the return of the innocence of his youth but knows that it will never be. He has lived too much, but not enough. It will never be enough. No, he feels like he’s lived a million years. He wonders what England would probably feel…of course, England isn’t that old. But still…he’s older then himself, and probably went through more.

And today? He survives. He is a product of his environment. An endless cycle of sirens and dark dreams.

He can only ever remember fragments of his time in the sky. His thoughts are blocked out of his head and his heart as soon as the wheels bump down onto the concrete runway he now considers home. He shuts himself away, and pretends that he’s still a kid, running around being chased by England. That he’s laughing, trying to the laundry and failing at it.

For all that, he knows his experience is similar every day. There will be the comforting whirr of the engines, the rhythmic beat of bullets against metal, the brightness of the fires engulfing the aircraft at his side, the black boldness of his opponent’s Swastika.
Then he will return to the safety of home, to sit and watch and wait again. It has been this way for months now, day after day after endless day. In this, the most uncertain of times, to live means nothing more than to repeat the most certain of behaviors. It is a strangely comforting thought, and one he would laugh about were he not so terribly afraid.

Sometimes while they wait they talk of those who did not return. Regardless of the unfortunate soul’s identity, they say the same thing.
He, however, has given up praying. He has stared death in the face more than once in this strange new life of his and has accepted that his destiny is no longer in his own hands. He does not know when the end will come but he does know this:

He has to win. Or else…

He will land plummeting towards the field a mile below and the red-hot flames will be licking at his skin, as his burst eardrums mean that he can no longer hear his own screams and the pain which has engulfed him becomes too much to bear, as he readies himself for the plunge into everlasting darkness that only death brings and takes a final look at this glorious world through the red veil that has descended over his eyes …

…he will long for the return of routine. And most of all, he will long for home.