CellmatesThe only sounds in his dark, dank cell were the occasional drip drip of rainwater that had made it’s way down to the dungeons, the scurry of rats running across the floor, their claws scratching unpleasantly into the stone floor, and the pull of Arthur’s chains as he moved around. There were no other prisoners down here - in fact, there weren’t even any other prisoners in the whole prison complex; it was just him. Arthur Kirkland, feared pirate captain of the seven seas, pillager and plunderer of the world. Well, not so feared anymore, now that he was locked up and all. Admittedly, he’d had a good run as a pirate. He wasn’t disappointed with how his life had turned out, not at all. He had made a significant impact on the world, so much so that he was a legend that would, more than likely, live on for generations, which was all he’d ever really wanted anyway. He even had a prison made especially for him because General-what
Something You Don't Need to SeeDisclaimer: No matter how much I would love to, I honestly don't own Hetalia - Axis Powers, it was solely created by Himaruya Hidekazu.Darkness was something that he'd never questioned. Arthur had never seen the light, and so he welcomed the black abyss. He didn't even know what light looked like. Maybe what he thought was 'dark' was actually 'light'. After all, he'd only ever been told what 'light' and 'dark' were. He'd never experienced the difference.All of Arthur's life, he'd wandered around without knowing what black or white or light or dark looked like. In fact, he didn't even know what red looked like. Or blue. Or green, or purple, or any other colour that could be named.Arthur was blind.He'd been blind since birth. Arthur was a premature baby, you see, and had a disease called retinopathy of prematurity, or ROP, that all premature babies are at risk of contracting. He'd been one of the unlucky ones, the fact that he was so underweight causing
This Is War (USUK)A warning to the people,the good and the evil.This is war.The panicked screams, the rush of people fleeing to the shelters, the heat from the burning fires - so hot that he could almost feel his skin melting - were all things, part of the chaos, that he was slowly getting used to as the year wore on. Not too long ago, he was part of that chaos, the hordes of frightened people. They'd had no idea what was going on, at the start. No bloody idea. The Germans had come out of nowhere on that day, September 7, 1940. Now he sat and watched from his vantage point as his heart was burned, again and again, every night, with a blank and accepting expression etched onto his face. The searing pain that he once felt was gone, replaced with a numb feeling. He couldn't bring himself to give those krauts the pleasure of seeing the once great British Empire withering on the floor in utter agony. He wouldn't, and he couldn't.To the soldier, the civilian,The martyr, the