9 Works by cherry_lemonade
Listing Works
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Summary
Michelangelo could be considered one antithesis to Rafael, in the way that he had rendered David standing not in peace but in calculating tension before battle, humanity’s unending struggle towards the divine. The forms of the tortured souls had writhed in their suffering at the last judgment, and Russia would always come to crave the sight of the same agony on China’s calm face.
(Or: Russia becomes obsessed with his abusive father's lover.)
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When he arrives at esteemed Hermetic Institute for his studies, China is taken in by celebrated alchemist Soviet to resolve the crisis looming over Europe.
The brightest minds of the century must discover the elusive Philosopher’s Stone before it falls into the wrong hands, and China works with the frontrunner in this harrowing race. Problem is, fulfilling one of the core grails of Alchemy—unresolved for millennia since its conception—is easier said than done.
Between this tangled mystery and Soviet's mysterious identity, things may not be as they seem.
(Alchemy AU that contains magic, main pairings are China/Soviet and Russia/America, updates at least every two weeks)
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That was how China loved Soviet, irrationally and completely—like a human.
(Or: China reflects on memories with his old mentor and lover, what it means to be human and whether or not he is really so different from one.)
Series
- Part 2 of Illusions of Us
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For the average person, scars tell stories of the knee they scraped when the training wheels came off their bike for the first time, or the oven burn on their arm from cooking with their mother. The scars of countries speak of history, of sore spots still smarting to pasts long buried. Although they don't talk about those things, China can take a few good guesses at what Russia's are from.
(Or: Scars are the roadmap to the soul. China recounts those of her lovers, Soviet and Russia.)
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Summary
Him and Soviet had entangled themselves with the delusion that they were headed on the same path, but they were parallel lines with different destinies that could never intersect. He really did owe everything he knew to Soviet, but neither of them had anticipated that he would learn the harsh truths of reality by his own mentor’s hand. Did he still have feelings for Soviet?
Yes, yes, yes. Urged China’s every thought and every fiber of his being.
“It doesn’t matter.” Said China, and it was the most acute of lies.
(Or: Stories from the land where Russian Siberia meets Chinese Manchuria—the junction and divide.)
Series
- Part 1 of Illusions of Us
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bid you farewell (gulping them, swallow the flowers) by cherry_lemonade
Fandoms: Geography (Anthropomorphic)
18 Aug 2024
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Summary
Each summer, Russia brings a new boy or girl to her family's secluded seaside cabin, and this time it is the talk of the town because China doesn't come from the North Atlantic. As far as the people at their school know: he had accompanied a friend to one of America's parties where he caught Russia’s eye, and maybe she had gone for him because she was getting bored of the same old.
If you asked Russia why she's with China, she wouldn’t admit to you that she doesn't really know, herself. Maybe it’s because of the way a lazy smile curves at his eyes in the mornings as they banter with each other and he tries to get a laugh out of her. Maybe it's the way something grips and pounds at her ribcage in response.
(Or: Five permanent keepsakes from Russia’s summer fling with China, and one impermanent memory to store tucked beneath her heart.)
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As if stating the single most mundane fact of life, no trace of longing or remorse, no joy or fanfare —
“You’re not him.”
China tells him, and that’s possibly the most brutal and relieving thing he could have said.
(Or: Russia has Soviet’s land, people, nation, and apparently even his lover. China doesn’t have Soviet anymore, but he has Russia now.)
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When Russia finally looked at him — arm slung over his knee, bruise forming on his jaw — he was reminded of a time when America had sat in Russia's bed just like that, quilt around his ankles. The aftermath of the night had been laid all over his shoulders and neck, audible in his panting breath.
Even then, America remained distant as the North star. And Russia had clung to him like a pathetic thorn in his side, a desperate stray who was eventually kicked away and discarded. He would open his arms and his legs for you, but the world's hegemon would never open his heart.
Now, Russia stared at him and America looked back with his chin propped up on his elbow. Old-friends turned enemies. Strangers with memories. They were in the same boat with a vast rift between them that could never be bridged.
(Or: Although those days are long gone, Russia remembers against his will how it felt to love America. He’ll probably never forget.)
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Russia panted softly into China's mouth. "Why are you here?" China questioned, taking advantage of Russia's pause to catch her breath. He had the sense that she hadn’t sought him out just to play around and relieve stress.
Russia promptly chose to ignore him and dipped back in for more. Her teeth latched onto his exposed neck and she licked across his Adam's apple, forcing China to swallow a noise of surprise as she bit at the skin.
Her platinum blonde hair looked silver in the dim moonlight reaching in from the window and clinging to it. The light highlighted her defined features like a liquid, dripping across the planes, pooling and dispersing in the shadows. China absent-mindedly played with her hair and watched it weave between his fingers as he let Russia do as she pleased.
Russia finally pulled away with her bright lipstick slightly smudged, satisfied for the time being. She said, "Sell me weapons."
(Or: Russia comes to ask for a favour from her… ally, lover, adversary. Whatever China was.)