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Hello new part!
Request for Hungary and Liechtenstein hanging out and being all chatty, giggly, and girly together.
Bonus if they talk about Austria and Switzerland!
Thank you anons!
Request for Hungary and Liechtenstein hanging out and being all chatty, giggly, and girly together.
Bonus if they talk about Austria and Switzerland!
Thank you anons!
The idea was simply adorable. So here is my shot at girly girls. From the lack of chatting, giggling, and overall girlishness on my own part, I apologize if this is not chatty, giggly, or girly enough. It is short because of my inability to do better. D: I hope this did your mind's eye even the slightest bit of justice!
-
They had made a tent out of blankets and the couch. Lichtenstein had brought out some chocolate while Hungary had brought cake from her place.
“Do... do either of you need anything?”
Hungary had to cover her mouth so she would not burst into laughter at the sound of Switzerland's voice. Lichtenstein's mouth twitched, but she managed to keep her voice calm. “No, brother, we do not need anything!”
“You know where I am if you do.”
“Yes.”
“Th-thank you, Switzerland~” Hungary managed to say before she had to cover her mouth again. There was another noise from the outside of their tent, then the obvious dimming of the room light being turned off, leaving them only with the electric lantern they had with them. The door shut and Hungary dissolved into giggles on her pillow. “Chocolate!”
Lichtenstein snickered as well, though her voice by default was much quieter than Hungary. “Don't tell him I said that! He would be horrified to think that it isn't a secret!”
Hungary waved it off, bringing her head back up. “Now that you mention it, I think I have noticed Switzerland being... particularly ecstatic when it comes to chocolate.”
“There's a reason he makes certain his is always the best,” Lichtenstein nodded a few times, mouth shifting as it contained her laughter.
“That is another mark in the 'for' category,” Hungary picked up a pencil and marked it down.
“How many does that make?”
Hungary counted. “Fifteen differences and forty six similarities!”
“Oh my goodness!” Lichtenstein clapped her hands over her mouth. “Have we really come up with that much?”
“Between you and I,” Hungary waggled her finger in front of the smaller girl's face. “We have only examined the surface. The creamy cream filled centres await our examination!”
Lichtenstein's face went red. “C-cream!” Hungary began to laugh again as Lichtenstein picked up her milk and sipped at it as if that required all of her concentration. Swallowing, Lichtenstein looked like she was about to try and change the conversation, cheeks still pink. “C-come ov–”
“Come cream~” Hungary smiled wickedly, Lichtenstein looking like she was almost going to pass out from her blush.
“I-it's my turn to brush your hair!” the girl squeaked. Hungary could have said more, but decided to let the poor Nation recover a bit before she fell apart. After all, Lichtenstein even slightly off normal and Switzerland was likely to burst back into the room with that sixth sense of his that something was wrong.
Switzerland was absolutely adorable. Not that Hungary could ever admit that to anyone but Lichtenstein. After all, if Austria was to hear that...
Actually, that could be funny.
The brush slid down her hair and Hungary could feel one of Lichtenstein's hands press into her back. “We should do this more often,” Lichtenstein sighed into the back of Hungary's shoulder. Smiling, Hungary turned so she could kiss the girl on the cheek.
“We should.”
-
They had made a tent out of blankets and the couch. Lichtenstein had brought out some chocolate while Hungary had brought cake from her place.
“Do... do either of you need anything?”
Hungary had to cover her mouth so she would not burst into laughter at the sound of Switzerland's voice. Lichtenstein's mouth twitched, but she managed to keep her voice calm. “No, brother, we do not need anything!”
“You know where I am if you do.”
“Yes.”
“Th-thank you, Switzerland~” Hungary managed to say before she had to cover her mouth again. There was another noise from the outside of their tent, then the obvious dimming of the room light being turned off, leaving them only with the electric lantern they had with them. The door shut and Hungary dissolved into giggles on her pillow. “Chocolate!”
Lichtenstein snickered as well, though her voice by default was much quieter than Hungary. “Don't tell him I said that! He would be horrified to think that it isn't a secret!”
Hungary waved it off, bringing her head back up. “Now that you mention it, I think I have noticed Switzerland being... particularly ecstatic when it comes to chocolate.”
“There's a reason he makes certain his is always the best,” Lichtenstein nodded a few times, mouth shifting as it contained her laughter.
“That is another mark in the 'for' category,” Hungary picked up a pencil and marked it down.
“How many does that make?”
Hungary counted. “Fifteen differences and forty six similarities!”
“Oh my goodness!” Lichtenstein clapped her hands over her mouth. “Have we really come up with that much?”
“Between you and I,” Hungary waggled her finger in front of the smaller girl's face. “We have only examined the surface. The creamy cream filled centres await our examination!”
Lichtenstein's face went red. “C-cream!” Hungary began to laugh again as Lichtenstein picked up her milk and sipped at it as if that required all of her concentration. Swallowing, Lichtenstein looked like she was about to try and change the conversation, cheeks still pink. “C-come ov–”
“Come cream~” Hungary smiled wickedly, Lichtenstein looking like she was almost going to pass out from her blush.
“I-it's my turn to brush your hair!” the girl squeaked. Hungary could have said more, but decided to let the poor Nation recover a bit before she fell apart. After all, Lichtenstein even slightly off normal and Switzerland was likely to burst back into the room with that sixth sense of his that something was wrong.
Switzerland was absolutely adorable. Not that Hungary could ever admit that to anyone but Lichtenstein. After all, if Austria was to hear that...
Actually, that could be funny.
The brush slid down her hair and Hungary could feel one of Lichtenstein's hands press into her back. “We should do this more often,” Lichtenstein sighed into the back of Hungary's shoulder. Smiling, Hungary turned so she could kiss the girl on the cheek.
“We should.”
http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/newstopics/howaboutthat/7694575/Painful-passion-thousands-nursing-secret-sex-injuries.html
With FrUK, preferably.
With FrUK, preferably.
Dear god, I want to do this. Hold on for a few and let me see if I can manage something.
Re: The Reason Why England Should Really Just Say No 5/?
(Anonymous) - 2010-05-18 17:00 (UTC) - ExpandRe: The Reason Why England Should Really Just Say No 6/?
(Anonymous) - 2010-05-17 03:05 (UTC) - ExpandARRRRRGH DAMN YOU FOR POSTING WHEN I NEED TO LEAVE IN AN HOUR
(Anonymous) - 2010-05-17 20:42 (UTC) - ExpandAnd -I- gave in and just put off everything to finish this. Now where's the damn OP?
(Anonymous) - 2010-05-17 21:02 (UTC) - ExpandRe: And -I- gave in and just put off everything to finish this. Now where's the damn OP?
(Anonymous) - 2010-05-18 03:22 (UTC) - ExpandRe: The Reason Why England Should Really Just Say No 9/9
(Anonymous) - 2010-05-18 07:08 (UTC) - ExpandRe: The Reason Why England Should Really Just Say No 9/9
(Anonymous) - 2010-08-15 20:58 (UTC) - ExpandI keep seeing Russia paired with guys, genderbends and his sisters. So anon would like to see Russia paired with a girl that isn't any of the afore-mentioned people, pretty please?
Bonus if the girl tops.
captcha: tamer Little... HMMM.
Bonus if the girl tops.
captcha: tamer Little... HMMM.
Seychelles. Russia does say in his Marukaite Chikyuu about how much he wants to visit the south seas, and he really wants to be in sunny and warm places, so... :D This anon was just thinking of this pairing the other day.
This anon has fallen head over heels in love with Iceland/Seychelles and would absolutely love to see more of it since pixiv is stingy. The rating is totally up to you, but I would like it to be fluffy and involve lots of hair stroking.
Undying love, babies and internets to whoever can do this.
Undying love, babies and internets to whoever can do this.
I have more Iceland/Seychelles stuff in progress (When did Seychelles become my fandom bicycle?) but here, for now have a microfill.
-
It has fallen dark, and the waves crash against the shore. They're curled up in the sand, with his hands running through her hair with the rhythm of the waves. The fire they made has flickered down to almost nothing, but neither makes a motion to get up and stoke the flames. His chest is cold, just like all of him. Touching him makes her think of snow, such a rarity around here. (When she asks about snow and mountains and bitter cold he is impassive. Winter is such a common thing, it would be like asking her about sunlight or sandy beaches.)
They've been talking for hours and still she doesn't want to stop.
"A Penis museum? Really?"
He nods, and she laughs. "That's so....wow. A Penis Museum. Papa would love it."
"With a family like mine, did you really expect me to be normal?"
She laughs again. "Have you seen my family recently? I'm pretty sure I've gotten you beat."
He raises an eyebrow, daring her. "You sure you want to say that? I might have to tell you about the time I caught Denmark and Norway in their underwear, wielding tupperware like axes."
"Oho?"
"Get this: they were in their underwear, wielding tupperware like axes."
She covers her mouth with her hand, but the giggles come out anyways. "You're a horrible storyteller," she says. But it's teasing, and with no sting.
Iceland shrugs. "Can I blame my family like I do for everything else?"
"Go on, I would," she replies.
The air smells of salt, the night has finally made her lands cool. She's never had a time when she wanted to stay up all night just telling stories. He still hasn't told her about all the Norse myths, or his history.
His hands are gentle in her hair. He's so unexpected. He tastes like frost and cold winds, all the things she's only wondered about.
"So, tell me more...." She says.
"About what?"
"Anything," she replies. "Anything at all."
-
It has fallen dark, and the waves crash against the shore. They're curled up in the sand, with his hands running through her hair with the rhythm of the waves. The fire they made has flickered down to almost nothing, but neither makes a motion to get up and stoke the flames. His chest is cold, just like all of him. Touching him makes her think of snow, such a rarity around here. (When she asks about snow and mountains and bitter cold he is impassive. Winter is such a common thing, it would be like asking her about sunlight or sandy beaches.)
They've been talking for hours and still she doesn't want to stop.
"A Penis museum? Really?"
He nods, and she laughs. "That's so....wow. A Penis Museum. Papa would love it."
"With a family like mine, did you really expect me to be normal?"
She laughs again. "Have you seen my family recently? I'm pretty sure I've gotten you beat."
He raises an eyebrow, daring her. "You sure you want to say that? I might have to tell you about the time I caught Denmark and Norway in their underwear, wielding tupperware like axes."
"Oho?"
"Get this: they were in their underwear, wielding tupperware like axes."
She covers her mouth with her hand, but the giggles come out anyways. "You're a horrible storyteller," she says. But it's teasing, and with no sting.
Iceland shrugs. "Can I blame my family like I do for everything else?"
"Go on, I would," she replies.
The air smells of salt, the night has finally made her lands cool. She's never had a time when she wanted to stay up all night just telling stories. He still hasn't told her about all the Norse myths, or his history.
His hands are gentle in her hair. He's so unexpected. He tastes like frost and cold winds, all the things she's only wondered about.
"So, tell me more...." She says.
"About what?"
"Anything," she replies. "Anything at all."
Romano/Germany, inspired by a recent scanlation anon spotted: Romano is swearing and generating an insult-storm of epic proportions at Germany. Germany doesn't understand Italian, but is completely turned on because Italian is sexy.
Germany wondered when he had first discovered his kink- his Italinophilia, if you will. He supposed it had been that day when Italy had been plinking on the piano, making mistakes but not letting that slow him, singing along with all his little heart.
Germany had grabbed him, and with a growled “Keep singing,” proceeded to push him against the wall and pull his pants… No, thinking about that now will not help the situation.
The “situation” was, Italy’s brother, Romano seemed to be flinging insults at him in angry Italian, but Germany mind was slowly being filled with a lustful buzz, which he was doing his best to fight.
“Oi, bastardo di patate, è anche ascoltando?” Resist, Germany, resist. You are a soldier, this is not a hard order to follow. Except it was hard. And getting harder.
“Sei sordo?” Germany licked his lips.
“Romano, please. Your insults are wasted upon someone who does not speak Italian.”
“Tch. Questo perché sei un cretino.” Damn it. It was getting more and more difficult not to slam the smaller man into a wall. “Forse dovresti imparare, no? Poi è solito essere così stupido.” Romano smirked like he was proud of himself. To Germany it was like an invitation.
He pulled the brunet into a bruising kiss, and it takes a moment for Romano to even react. He thrashes against the German, pushing him away and speaking so quickly and angrily that a native speaker could not understand, let alone the blond who now held him in his strong arms.
“What are you doing you b-bas… ahhh…” Germany had chosen this moment to tug at his hair curl and nip at his earlobe.
Ah yes, the hair curl. That one was an interesting story. It seemed Germany was not the only one with kinks. One fateful night- it was the same night he had first told Italy he loved him, if he remembered correctly- Italy had asked him to pleasepullonhishairnow. And that had been some pretty amazing sex.
Romano groaned, and by the time Germany reached to palm him through his clothes he was pretty hard. Germany didn’t recall moving, but Romano was against a brick wall. He would be pretty scrapped up later. If his clothes came off that is.
“Wh-what are you… what…” The Italian could barely breathe, let alone talk. Germany huskily murmured as he nipped down the line of the others neck.
“Keep speaking Italian…”
“P-perché?” And Romano groaned as Germany rolled their hips together.
There wass relative silence for a few minutes, filled with small sucking noises, harsh breaths and gasps, and small moans. Pants but not shirts were shed, and Germany has produced lube from somewhere, but doesn’t recall leaving his seemingly willing victim.
He slicked his fingers and pushed them in. Much to his pleasure, Romano gasped in pain and whispered lewdly in his own language.
Sadism was another kink of his. He is not overly rough, but getting a gasp or even a sob from his partner was an amazing victory. This was one he had discovered not with Italy, but with Poland. Poland had not enjoyed that sex much. But then, Poland hadn’t much enjoyed anything in the early nineteen forties.
Without much further ado, Germany slicked himself up and pushed in, and, not waiting for Romano to adjust, started moving, making the smaller man sob- victory!- and grip at the blond’s shirt.
It only lasted a few minutes and they were both on the floor, catching their breath. There was a moment where neither of them moved. Eventually, Romano turned to Germany.
“This never happened, understand?”
“Of course it didn’t.”
“Right.” And indeed, they never spoke of it again.
-----------
Romano says, in this order, “Potato bastard, are you even listering?” “You deaf?” “That’s because you are dumb” “Maybe you should learn, no? Then you will not be so stupid.” Aaand “W-why?”
And… anon apologizes because she’s pretty sure this suck and she switched tenses a couple times.
….
Also, a kink for English would be Anglophhilia ;D
PS, recaptcha: "He willnot" ....pfff.
Germany had grabbed him, and with a growled “Keep singing,” proceeded to push him against the wall and pull his pants… No, thinking about that now will not help the situation.
The “situation” was, Italy’s brother, Romano seemed to be flinging insults at him in angry Italian, but Germany mind was slowly being filled with a lustful buzz, which he was doing his best to fight.
“Oi, bastardo di patate, è anche ascoltando?” Resist, Germany, resist. You are a soldier, this is not a hard order to follow. Except it was hard. And getting harder.
“Sei sordo?” Germany licked his lips.
“Romano, please. Your insults are wasted upon someone who does not speak Italian.”
“Tch. Questo perché sei un cretino.” Damn it. It was getting more and more difficult not to slam the smaller man into a wall. “Forse dovresti imparare, no? Poi è solito essere così stupido.” Romano smirked like he was proud of himself. To Germany it was like an invitation.
He pulled the brunet into a bruising kiss, and it takes a moment for Romano to even react. He thrashes against the German, pushing him away and speaking so quickly and angrily that a native speaker could not understand, let alone the blond who now held him in his strong arms.
“What are you doing you b-bas… ahhh…” Germany had chosen this moment to tug at his hair curl and nip at his earlobe.
Ah yes, the hair curl. That one was an interesting story. It seemed Germany was not the only one with kinks. One fateful night- it was the same night he had first told Italy he loved him, if he remembered correctly- Italy had asked him to pleasepullonhishairnow. And that had been some pretty amazing sex.
Romano groaned, and by the time Germany reached to palm him through his clothes he was pretty hard. Germany didn’t recall moving, but Romano was against a brick wall. He would be pretty scrapped up later. If his clothes came off that is.
“Wh-what are you… what…” The Italian could barely breathe, let alone talk. Germany huskily murmured as he nipped down the line of the others neck.
“Keep speaking Italian…”
“P-perché?” And Romano groaned as Germany rolled their hips together.
There wass relative silence for a few minutes, filled with small sucking noises, harsh breaths and gasps, and small moans. Pants but not shirts were shed, and Germany has produced lube from somewhere, but doesn’t recall leaving his seemingly willing victim.
He slicked his fingers and pushed them in. Much to his pleasure, Romano gasped in pain and whispered lewdly in his own language.
Sadism was another kink of his. He is not overly rough, but getting a gasp or even a sob from his partner was an amazing victory. This was one he had discovered not with Italy, but with Poland. Poland had not enjoyed that sex much. But then, Poland hadn’t much enjoyed anything in the early nineteen forties.
Without much further ado, Germany slicked himself up and pushed in, and, not waiting for Romano to adjust, started moving, making the smaller man sob- victory!- and grip at the blond’s shirt.
It only lasted a few minutes and they were both on the floor, catching their breath. There was a moment where neither of them moved. Eventually, Romano turned to Germany.
“This never happened, understand?”
“Of course it didn’t.”
“Right.” And indeed, they never spoke of it again.
-----------
Romano says, in this order, “Potato bastard, are you even listering?” “You deaf?” “That’s because you are dumb” “Maybe you should learn, no? Then you will not be so stupid.” Aaand “W-why?”
And… anon apologizes because she’s pretty sure this suck and she switched tenses a couple times.
….
Also, a kink for English would be Anglophhilia ;D
PS, recaptcha: "He willnot" ....pfff.
Yes. YES. Ohgod please someone write this.
*flails desperately*
*flails desperately*
I need something extremely cute.
Basically, someone finds a way to woobify Russia. Anon would like to see a nation teasing him (in a good natured way) about his weight, poking his tummy, etc, and Russia being self concious. (So not so much kolkolkols)
Bonus 1: Said nation is France (my OTP), America, or Prussia if you prefer.
Bonus 2: There is a kiss on the cheek involved and/or someone uses Ivan as a pillow.
OOC-ness and crack is awesome! Thanks :D
I'm gonna go hide now-
Basically, someone finds a way to woobify Russia. Anon would like to see a nation teasing him (in a good natured way) about his weight, poking his tummy, etc, and Russia being self concious. (So not so much kolkolkols)
Bonus 1: Said nation is France (my OTP), America, or Prussia if you prefer.
Bonus 2: There is a kiss on the cheek involved and/or someone uses Ivan as a pillow.
OOC-ness and crack is awesome! Thanks :D
I'm gonna go hide now-
Sadiq was ALWAYS having a bad day.
It just so happens that, that morning, every motherfucking time he was about to fall asleep the freak just had to scoot more toward him that, by the time Sadiq had had enough of the fool's rolling about, he was at the edge. He kicked Francis off. He allowed the smashed bastard into bed because he said that he was lonely and the beyond fucked-over France personification puked on his bed at the other side of the room. Fucker had a good tongue on him at all times. Innuendo intended.
Other roommates were pains as well.
There was a time that called for three in a room. He would heed all Hell's advice to run for his life when that would ever happen again. He had Germany and Prussia as roommates because the damn American forgot to settle things--he was too "busy" doing something. Turkey would bet everything he had for saying the brat just forgot or downing hamburgers inside a closet filled with scents of who-knows-what in the middle of meetings. He only ever shows up by the end anyways with his big optimistic wasteful plans for the future-HIS ASS!
The brothers were at it like bickering sisters who thought that the other was more beautiful and deserved to be upped a notch. Sadiq had had half a mind to throw them both out but the German was a good fellow and he cleaned up after all of them, actually. He probably has to clean up after the Prussian bastard. Now, Turkey has nothing against Prussia but the man was just so loud outside sex that it was not right! He probably imagines himself to be some kind of awesome people have yet to notice… The shit did not stand a chance against Turkey. The Prussian prick was a walking pigsty and he kept everyone up with the gaming past ”normal people” hours. After the awful experience, Turkey understood two things about the brothers: one, Germany was always uptight to show attentiveness so he wouldn’t lose to Prussia – even though Turkey was halfway to Hell and back in unconsciousness in the meetings in the morning after; two, Prussia could be manipulated quite easily when Germany had enough—A.K.A. Ludwig crammed all Gilbert’s stuff into a sac and presented it to the midnight air until Gilbert and his chick were where normal “people” belong, in bed.
Sometimes, he would gladly just kill every citizen of Istanbul to get the brat to shut up!
There was once a time called the America Got Bashed by England for Stupidity. The room arrangements in Stockholm were not great, at the least. It was one of those world meetings and everyone wanted to bash the fucker’s face in. Including, Turkey.
The Great Ottoman Empire had been reduced to sharing--SHARING—a bed with—that thing! Greece was not too happy about it either. Heracles did everything nation-tan possible to give the once proud empire the impossible headache for the on-coming season tidings and everything ended up wrong! First, the night when Heracles and Sadiq went at it like Sparta and Persia was the night when Sadiq KNEW he would never rest right and be an overall bastard to everybody he knew and had contact with. He kept jutting shit and curses at the kid and his “Oedipus complex” all night long as the brat kept hitting him with a pillow and his everything to just get him to shut up and fight physically. Sadiq was getting to old for that bullcrap. He was keeping the bed, damnit!
It just so happens that, that morning, every motherfucking time he was about to fall asleep the freak just had to scoot more toward him that, by the time Sadiq had had enough of the fool's rolling about, he was at the edge. He kicked Francis off. He allowed the smashed bastard into bed because he said that he was lonely and the beyond fucked-over France personification puked on his bed at the other side of the room. Fucker had a good tongue on him at all times. Innuendo intended.
Other roommates were pains as well.
There was a time that called for three in a room. He would heed all Hell's advice to run for his life when that would ever happen again. He had Germany and Prussia as roommates because the damn American forgot to settle things--he was too "busy" doing something. Turkey would bet everything he had for saying the brat just forgot or downing hamburgers inside a closet filled with scents of who-knows-what in the middle of meetings. He only ever shows up by the end anyways with his big optimistic wasteful plans for the future-HIS ASS!
The brothers were at it like bickering sisters who thought that the other was more beautiful and deserved to be upped a notch. Sadiq had had half a mind to throw them both out but the German was a good fellow and he cleaned up after all of them, actually. He probably has to clean up after the Prussian bastard. Now, Turkey has nothing against Prussia but the man was just so loud outside sex that it was not right! He probably imagines himself to be some kind of awesome people have yet to notice… The shit did not stand a chance against Turkey. The Prussian prick was a walking pigsty and he kept everyone up with the gaming past ”normal people” hours. After the awful experience, Turkey understood two things about the brothers: one, Germany was always uptight to show attentiveness so he wouldn’t lose to Prussia – even though Turkey was halfway to Hell and back in unconsciousness in the meetings in the morning after; two, Prussia could be manipulated quite easily when Germany had enough—A.K.A. Ludwig crammed all Gilbert’s stuff into a sac and presented it to the midnight air until Gilbert and his chick were where normal “people” belong, in bed.
Sometimes, he would gladly just kill every citizen of Istanbul to get the brat to shut up!
There was once a time called the America Got Bashed by England for Stupidity. The room arrangements in Stockholm were not great, at the least. It was one of those world meetings and everyone wanted to bash the fucker’s face in. Including, Turkey.
The Great Ottoman Empire had been reduced to sharing--SHARING—a bed with—that thing! Greece was not too happy about it either. Heracles did everything nation-tan possible to give the once proud empire the impossible headache for the on-coming season tidings and everything ended up wrong! First, the night when Heracles and Sadiq went at it like Sparta and Persia was the night when Sadiq KNEW he would never rest right and be an overall bastard to everybody he knew and had contact with. He kept jutting shit and curses at the kid and his “Oedipus complex” all night long as the brat kept hitting him with a pillow and his everything to just get him to shut up and fight physically. Sadiq was getting to old for that bullcrap. He was keeping the bed, damnit!
(deleted comment)
Any scene(but the classic with Nell being tied to the traintracks is always nice) with:
Canada as Dudley Do-Right
England as Snidely Whiplash (you just know that when he was the British Empire he was 'Mwahahaha'ing all over the place)
America as Nell
Bonus: Kumojirou makes an appearance as Horse
Canada as Dudley Do-Right
England as Snidely Whiplash (you just know that when he was the British Empire he was 'Mwahahaha'ing all over the place)
America as Nell
Bonus: Kumojirou makes an appearance as Horse
...I don't even know anymore. But here you are.
http://i42.tinypic.com/2zrj3th.jpg
One sketch of Canada as Dudley Do Right, riding fail!Kumajiro-Horse. Facing off against England Whiplash with a very confused America in a dress. I hope to ink and color this maybe tomorrow or the day after, so stay tuned for less fail (I hope).
...and maybe this time remember Canada's sash.
http://i42.tinypic.com/2zrj3th.jpg
One sketch of Canada as Dudley Do Right, riding fail!Kumajiro-Horse. Facing off against England Whiplash with a very confused America in a dress. I hope to ink and color this maybe tomorrow or the day after, so stay tuned for less fail (I hope).
...and maybe this time remember Canada's sash.
Exactly what the title says. Spain/S. Italy.
Spain taking a consenting somewhat older S. Italy's virginity.
Children in Spain in the middle ages were betrothed and wed often as soon as they hit puberty (the girls at least), so Spain sees nothing wrong with taking S. Italy as his "betrothed." But because he's so young, he tells innocent, grumpy, little South Italy that he will wait until he's ready.
Spain somehow figures out that Romano is ready to take things a step further (how it happens is completely up to anon) and Spain is a very passionate lover while taking Romano's virginity. Be creative, anons. I'm dying for some sort of real character interaction between the two.
How old Romano is at this point is up to the author, but it has to be a reasonable age of consent. No shota or non-con and any side pairings or kinks are fine.
Bonus but not necessary:
- Multiple orgasms on Romano's part.
Spain taking a consenting somewhat older S. Italy's virginity.
Children in Spain in the middle ages were betrothed and wed often as soon as they hit puberty (the girls at least), so Spain sees nothing wrong with taking S. Italy as his "betrothed." But because he's so young, he tells innocent, grumpy, little South Italy that he will wait until he's ready.
Spain somehow figures out that Romano is ready to take things a step further (how it happens is completely up to anon) and Spain is a very passionate lover while taking Romano's virginity. Be creative, anons. I'm dying for some sort of real character interaction between the two.
How old Romano is at this point is up to the author, but it has to be a reasonable age of consent. No shota or non-con and any side pairings or kinks are fine.
Bonus but not necessary:
- Multiple orgasms on Romano's part.
My historical background on this is pretty bad. My history teachers all basically refuse to answer any more of my random and persistent questions, and I find a hard time finding credible things that pertain to my interests on the internet. That said, there are definitely culture!language!history!fails involved and I’m really really sorry. Did North Italy even live with Austria during the Italian wars? I don’t know… But I tried hard, I did! Also, I don't speak any Italian or Spanish, so... … T^T
But I really do hope you like it, because I worked hard!
.
.
.
“We can’t, Lovi. I know that we’re married now, but sex is –“
“You bastard, I know what sex is!”
“Eh, Lovi, calm, calm, I didn’t mean – “
The rest of the plea was drowned in a furious yell, made slightly adorable with the fact that Romano’s voice cracked up half and octave in the middle. Of course, Antonio barely had time to giggle before being punched in the arm. And it hurt.
Ah… he should have expected this response. He had expected it, but… who was to blame him for hoping that his little Lovinito would play nice and behave for once?
“Lovi, querido,” he tried to reason, “you know that I love you, si?”
“I don’t know shit, bastard!” And with that, he strode out of the bedchamber. Antonio watched him go, watching the child’s bare back with a hunger that he had, unfortunately, muzzled himself.
His wedding night could definitely have gone better.
Antonio had wished to wait. In his heart, he knew Romano was too young. Fourteen may have been a perfectly acceptable age to marry, and really, Romano was much, much older, as old as the fall of Rome. But some things ought to wait. Some things had to wait.
Antonio would not have pushed even marriage but, politically, things were getting tense.
It was Francis, mostly. Ah, Antonio loved the man but he had not learned to keep his hands off of other people’s things. Or other people, actually. Consistently, Antonio found the Frenchman scheming and planning to extend his influence over one or the other of the Vargas twins, and even King Ferdinand was beginning to get worried.
“Declare a war,” the king had said, all seriousness, once he had noted how jumpy and nervous Antonio had become. “Take what is yours. Keep it.”
Because I'm in a France/Germany mood:
France generally being overwhelming to poor, stoic Germany and very, very open about their relationship--so France letting very graphic details about their relationship slip, attempting PDA, trying to initiate sexual contact during or before a Very Important meeting, etc.
France generally being overwhelming to poor, stoic Germany and very, very open about their relationship--so France letting very graphic details about their relationship slip, attempting PDA, trying to initiate sexual contact during or before a Very Important meeting, etc.
I tried this out, since I, too, have been in the France/Germany mood. Hope it's OK!
---
Germany was never one to handle emotion, especially for others. Keep a comfortable distance; know others as nothing more than colleagues. The rule worked well for him as he became closer to other nations, with a few minor exceptions.
---
Germany was never one to handle emotion, especially for others. Keep a comfortable distance; know others as nothing more than colleagues. The rule worked well for him as he became closer to other nations, with a few minor exceptions.
Unfortunately, France practically destroyed that rule.
"Ludwig." France called out as he came up.
"Hm?" Germany replied sipping a glass of water kept on the meeting table.
“How about we go out to eat tonight? I know of a marvelous restaurant nearby that makes excellent dishes, they say it makes a better sex drive." France said, leaning next to Germany. Germany promptly choked, rushing for a napkin.
"F-France! Don't say such things so loud!" It didn't make things any better that they were in an important meeting with politicians all around them and a few of their own friends.
"So how about it? Although it's not like you need anything to help. I think it could be more erotic- we should try food in bed tonight." France continued rambling, grinning at the flushing German.
"France, I'm serious! People can hear you, I would like it that you do not talk about our-romantic relationship- during work." Germany tried to seem firm, but the blush on his cheeks did not help at all.
"You think it's romantic? More like just wild nights of you biting and devouring me like an animal. Don't be hurt, I love a little bit of struggle and its fun testing how much a table can endure, but it can be so cold! How about using a pair of my fuzzy handcuffs next time?"
Germany slapped a hand over France's mouth, cursing in flustered whispers. People around turned toward the odd pair, most trying to ignore the explicit details but still listening.
"Quiet, now!" Germany commanded. "Say nothing else during the meeting or else-"
"Or else I have to be whipped by your leather crop?" France smirked, tracing Germany's big shoulder.
"Behave." Germany said and turned away when the meeting began.
"No worries about that, Cherie, I'll behave." France kisses Germany, who in turn jumps. Several nations notice and smirk, some politicians glaring.
"Let's begin the meeting, then." Someone calls out, and it commences. France remains uninterested through most of the meeting while Germany took notes. While France entertained himself with making faces at England from across the table, Germany remained calm and collected. After even England started ignoring him, France turned to Germany, studying his own profile.
He never liked when Germany had that face, his mouth set in a straight line and eyes dull of any life. The idea popped into his mind as his hand soon found Germany's knee under the table.
Germany made a jerk, and froze in the middle of writing. He turned a fraction and glared at France, who only gave him a cheeky smile.
"I said behave...!" Germany muttered, trying his best not to open his mouth completely. France's hand had moved up to his thigh and gave a small squeeze.
Celebrity Jeopardy, Saturday Night Live Style.
Austria or China as Alex Trebek. Drunk England must be involved somehow.
Austria or China as Alex Trebek. Drunk England must be involved somehow.
World Jeopardy: Deux Ex Machina
In hindsight, Austria wondered if he’d rather have Prussia sodomize him with an apple core than take on the job of hosting the annual World Jeopardy tournament.
These were the types of thoughts Austria had every year when the date, circled in foreboding red on his calendar, loomed forth. He’d tried to imagine worse things to compare it to, but he didn’t particularly relish the idea of being brutally ravished by half-eaten fruit (and he was never partial to apples), especially by Prussia, who had been the nation responsible for his current plight in the first place. It was Prussia that had “volunteered” him as the mediator of the game. It was Prussia that had entertained the idea of the game.
Austria loathed him for it.
As 2010’s annual World Jeopardy approached, he played enough Beethoven that the cat refused to come out of the attic. The least he could hope for, Austria knew, was that maybe this time, England wouldn’t come roaring drunk on rum.
(Best case scenario: no one would end up naked.)
I.
Hungary set up the cameras. Germany was contrite enough to help Austria set up the game board against the wall, create some feeble categories for idiots, and construct podiums. It didn’t ease the impending agony, but at least Austria’s hands stayed lotion-soft. Small pleasures.
Then the contestants arrived.
Around the world, other nations eagerly turned on their laptops and were directed to the live feed. Some that didn’t have Internet – like China, who had fumed over Google for three years and finally decided to just shut the whole thing down and give his people new woks, because “woks create community and foster bitter shipping wars just as easily” – placed and mailed orders to receive the DVD copy.
Up in the bathroom, Austria stared at himself in the mirror.
He adjusted his caveat.
“After this,” he told his reflection, “we will eat cake.”
II.
He didn’t dare look at the contestants as he ascended his podium. Clearing his throat under the lights, Austria shuffled his cards and glanced at the camera. “Welcome to World Jeopardy. If you remember from last year, we left our contestants locked in very close combat…”
“Not so fast, Austria!”
Austria almost closed his eyes. And so it starts.
His tone slurred on the drink, England leaned over the first podium. He was wearing – oh my, Austria thought, eyes widening as he took it in – a feathered pirate’s hat rakish over his hair and someone’s garters around his neck like a scarf. His face was peach red. He pointed at Austria. “You keep givin’ me bad points, boy…”
“Please let me finish, England.”
“… That’s what your mother said last night.”
“Oh-ho,” crooned America. “Burned.”
Austria wished a meteor would fall on him so he could just die.
In hindsight, Austria wondered if he’d rather have Prussia sodomize him with an apple core than take on the job of hosting the annual World Jeopardy tournament.
These were the types of thoughts Austria had every year when the date, circled in foreboding red on his calendar, loomed forth. He’d tried to imagine worse things to compare it to, but he didn’t particularly relish the idea of being brutally ravished by half-eaten fruit (and he was never partial to apples), especially by Prussia, who had been the nation responsible for his current plight in the first place. It was Prussia that had “volunteered” him as the mediator of the game. It was Prussia that had entertained the idea of the game.
Austria loathed him for it.
As 2010’s annual World Jeopardy approached, he played enough Beethoven that the cat refused to come out of the attic. The least he could hope for, Austria knew, was that maybe this time, England wouldn’t come roaring drunk on rum.
(Best case scenario: no one would end up naked.)
I.
Hungary set up the cameras. Germany was contrite enough to help Austria set up the game board against the wall, create some feeble categories for idiots, and construct podiums. It didn’t ease the impending agony, but at least Austria’s hands stayed lotion-soft. Small pleasures.
Then the contestants arrived.
Around the world, other nations eagerly turned on their laptops and were directed to the live feed. Some that didn’t have Internet – like China, who had fumed over Google for three years and finally decided to just shut the whole thing down and give his people new woks, because “woks create community and foster bitter shipping wars just as easily” – placed and mailed orders to receive the DVD copy.
Up in the bathroom, Austria stared at himself in the mirror.
He adjusted his caveat.
“After this,” he told his reflection, “we will eat cake.”
II.
He didn’t dare look at the contestants as he ascended his podium. Clearing his throat under the lights, Austria shuffled his cards and glanced at the camera. “Welcome to World Jeopardy. If you remember from last year, we left our contestants locked in very close combat…”
“Not so fast, Austria!”
Austria almost closed his eyes. And so it starts.
His tone slurred on the drink, England leaned over the first podium. He was wearing – oh my, Austria thought, eyes widening as he took it in – a feathered pirate’s hat rakish over his hair and someone’s garters around his neck like a scarf. His face was peach red. He pointed at Austria. “You keep givin’ me bad points, boy…”
“Please let me finish, England.”
“… That’s what your mother said last night.”
“Oh-ho,” crooned America. “Burned.”
Austria wished a meteor would fall on him so he could just die.
WHY HELLO THERE, WONDEROUS NOT-SO-ANON. THIS IS YOUR OP SPEAKING.
(Anonymous) - 2010-05-12 22:57 (UTC) - ExpandRe: WHY HELLO THERE, WONDEROUS NOT-SO-ANON. THIS IS YOUR OP SPEAKING.
(Anonymous) - 2010-05-13 04:30 (UTC) - ExpandRe: WHY HELLO THERE, WONDEROUS NOT-SO-ANON. THIS IS YOUR OP SPEAKING.
(Anonymous) - 2010-05-13 05:41 (UTC) - ExpandEngland/America - I'd love to see England losing a bet and becoming America's Slave. The bet can be about anything.
Bonus 1: England wears a collar and/or animal ears.
Bonus 2: America is sadistic. (O.o)
Bonus 1: England wears a collar and/or animal ears.
Bonus 2: America is sadistic. (O.o)
Until someone writes a fic...
It's my first fill ever, so be gentle~
http://i43.tinypic.com/99i80x.jpg
Sorry about the lack of shading, I'm just practicing using Photoshop ^^;
It's my first fill ever, so be gentle~
http://i43.tinypic.com/99i80x.jpg
Sorry about the lack of shading, I'm just practicing using Photoshop ^^;
Fem!UK epically topping US.
AU or modern-times would be <3333 but I'm open for anything.
Bonus1: US isn't quite into it at first but is reduced to putty in England's hands (or mouth or other parts of her body)
Bonus2: Fem!UK smirking smugly at fem!France after
AU or modern-times would be <3333 but I'm open for anything.
Bonus1: US isn't quite into it at first but is reduced to putty in England's hands (or mouth or other parts of her body)
Bonus2: Fem!UK smirking smugly at fem!France after
It had started with France eventually remarking, somewhat snidely, “You wouldn’t know what to do with a man should he end up trussed on your doorstep.”
England in fact did not sputter or bristle. Instead, she put her glass of rather dry white wine down deliberately. “Funny how you should say that.”
“Oh?” Genuinely intrigued, France leaned forward, propping her chin on her hand.
England waved a hand dismissively. “Oh, you wouldn’t be interested in my doings, I’m sure. Too boring for the likes of you.” She crossed her legs, dark wool skirt shifting.
“We have been playing these games with each other for long enough for that to be a particularly unsubtle move. Do tell. In great detail.”
England traced her fingertip around the rim of her wine glass delicately. She paused far too deliberately and then she met the other nation’s eyes in that forthright way she always did when dealing with the other female.
“Would you believe me if I told you that I had a certain young superpower on his knees at my feet?”
France arched a delicate gold eyebrow. “Go on.”
“No sarcasm? No denial?”
“Denial is your territory, my dear,” sniffed France, though not unkindly.
“Connect the dots, frog.”
Blue eyes narrowed slowly. “Surely not,” she finally murmured.
England gave a crooked, one shoulder shrug but her lips quirked in a decidedly amused fashion.
“You did not,” said France, leaning still further. “Not with… America.”
England shrugged the other shoulder and leaned backwards, picking up her glass again. “Maybe I did.”
France arched both eyebrows in response. It was one thing to know what to say but it was also another to know when to say it. England sipped from her glass and cradled it in her hand.
“When?” asked France at last.
“A few times in the last year,” England replied evenly.
“And… how?”
“With effort.” England crossed her legs again, the leather of her boots sliding and slipping.
“I refuse to believe it.”
England chuckled, the hem of her sensible, prudish skirt riding up just a little. “Why? Have I ever given you any reason to doubt?”
“Now stealing my lines!” France threw up her hands in mock-despair. “At least you never do anything by halves.”
“Is it really hard to believe?” England asked, her voice filled with saccharine sweetness. “You really can’t imagine it?”
“I can. I have a most active imagination.”
“You would,” snorted England. Then her lips quirked in that peculiar half-smirk that gave Spain night terrors; her mouth, like most of her, wasn’t particularly attractive but had a very, very curious mobility, a peculiar elasticity of expression. “Then imagine this, frog.
“Imagine him on his knees by my armchair. He’s naked. There’s a studded leather collar around his neck, not something from a fetish shop, mind you. A real one, one meant to restrain the likes of a Great Dane. There’s a leash attached to that collar, the handle tucked into my chair.” The thin lips quirked again. “Oh yes, he also sports a pair of dog ears, on a headband that blends into his hair. Blonde, if you were wondering. It matches the tail attached to the butt plug in his arse.
“His wrists are cuffed behind his back, mouth filled with a bit gag. Black leather, of course, for style.” England’s smile could have come off glaciers, her voice matter-of-fact and utterly deadpan. “And oh yes… a cock cage for his particular… endowments.”
France’s expression had that particularly composed quality that meant she was striving to keep control of herself. She murmured, “I did not think that particular kink was yours.”
England shrugged. “Not particularly, but I couldn’t resist. He rather is too much like a dog for his own good. An exuberant one, one that needs a firm hand.” She finished her glass of wine and set it down with dramatic care. “Where was I? Hm…”
England in fact did not sputter or bristle. Instead, she put her glass of rather dry white wine down deliberately. “Funny how you should say that.”
“Oh?” Genuinely intrigued, France leaned forward, propping her chin on her hand.
England waved a hand dismissively. “Oh, you wouldn’t be interested in my doings, I’m sure. Too boring for the likes of you.” She crossed her legs, dark wool skirt shifting.
“We have been playing these games with each other for long enough for that to be a particularly unsubtle move. Do tell. In great detail.”
England traced her fingertip around the rim of her wine glass delicately. She paused far too deliberately and then she met the other nation’s eyes in that forthright way she always did when dealing with the other female.
“Would you believe me if I told you that I had a certain young superpower on his knees at my feet?”
France arched a delicate gold eyebrow. “Go on.”
“No sarcasm? No denial?”
“Denial is your territory, my dear,” sniffed France, though not unkindly.
“Connect the dots, frog.”
Blue eyes narrowed slowly. “Surely not,” she finally murmured.
England gave a crooked, one shoulder shrug but her lips quirked in a decidedly amused fashion.
“You did not,” said France, leaning still further. “Not with… America.”
England shrugged the other shoulder and leaned backwards, picking up her glass again. “Maybe I did.”
France arched both eyebrows in response. It was one thing to know what to say but it was also another to know when to say it. England sipped from her glass and cradled it in her hand.
“When?” asked France at last.
“A few times in the last year,” England replied evenly.
“And… how?”
“With effort.” England crossed her legs again, the leather of her boots sliding and slipping.
“I refuse to believe it.”
England chuckled, the hem of her sensible, prudish skirt riding up just a little. “Why? Have I ever given you any reason to doubt?”
“Now stealing my lines!” France threw up her hands in mock-despair. “At least you never do anything by halves.”
“Is it really hard to believe?” England asked, her voice filled with saccharine sweetness. “You really can’t imagine it?”
“I can. I have a most active imagination.”
“You would,” snorted England. Then her lips quirked in that peculiar half-smirk that gave Spain night terrors; her mouth, like most of her, wasn’t particularly attractive but had a very, very curious mobility, a peculiar elasticity of expression. “Then imagine this, frog.
“Imagine him on his knees by my armchair. He’s naked. There’s a studded leather collar around his neck, not something from a fetish shop, mind you. A real one, one meant to restrain the likes of a Great Dane. There’s a leash attached to that collar, the handle tucked into my chair.” The thin lips quirked again. “Oh yes, he also sports a pair of dog ears, on a headband that blends into his hair. Blonde, if you were wondering. It matches the tail attached to the butt plug in his arse.
“His wrists are cuffed behind his back, mouth filled with a bit gag. Black leather, of course, for style.” England’s smile could have come off glaciers, her voice matter-of-fact and utterly deadpan. “And oh yes… a cock cage for his particular… endowments.”
France’s expression had that particularly composed quality that meant she was striving to keep control of herself. She murmured, “I did not think that particular kink was yours.”
England shrugged. “Not particularly, but I couldn’t resist. He rather is too much like a dog for his own good. An exuberant one, one that needs a firm hand.” She finished her glass of wine and set it down with dramatic care. “Where was I? Hm…”
YES PART 12! NGGGH. I'VE WAITED SO LONG FOR THIS REQUEST.
(Anonymous) 2010-05-10 03:53 pm (UTC)(link)THE ISLAND
YOU KNOW, THE ONE IN EVERY FUCKING EPISODE?!
I'm requesting that bitch. Got something you want to do to the island? Post it. Want to give the island an OC and then kick its ass? Do so. Anything and everything pertaining to the island is fair game. Any other characters are fine. Sex? If you can think of it, stick it in (pun intended).
Go wild, anons.
YOU KNOW, THE ONE IN EVERY FUCKING EPISODE?!
I'm requesting that bitch. Got something you want to do to the island? Post it. Want to give the island an OC and then kick its ass? Do so. Anything and everything pertaining to the island is fair game. Any other characters are fine. Sex? If you can think of it, stick it in (pun intended).
Go wild, anons.
Re: YES PART 12! NGGGH. I'VE WAITED SO LONG FOR THIS REQUEST.
(Anonymous) 2010-05-10 10:40 pm (UTC)(link)I APPROVE OF THIS REQUEST SO HARD.
seconded.
seconded.
Re: YES PART 12! NGGGH. I'VE WAITED SO LONG FOR THIS REQUEST.
(Anonymous) - 2010-05-10 23:45 (UTC) - ExpandI want to read about your versions of nations who haven't appeared in Hetalia yet, interacting with canon characters. I want the point of the story to be the relationship between the OC!nation and the canon!nation, doesn't matter if it is a historical thing or not.
No human names please.
No human names please.
12th May 2010
“Tha thu 'nad fhaighean!”
His throat was red raw from screaming at him, his cheeks flushed almost the same fiery shade of red as his hair. Blue eyes frosted over with a hatred he hadn't felt since...since the last time England had let those bastards influence him.
“How the bloody HELL could you do this to me?!” Scotland was shouting as he paced the floor, picking up the newspaper and all but throwing it in the blonde man's face. “I thought we were past this shit, England. I thought...”
“It...it's not like that...” England spread out his hands and backed away from the angry redhead. Scotland might have been the smaller nation but, Christ Almighty, he had a formidable temper on him.
“I thought this was supposed to be a democracy?” Scotland demanded, his fists clenched and his hands shaking. “I thought this was supposed to be the United Kingdom, not your own personal fucking playground. What about my people?”
“It's...it's not my fault...” England was stammering now, as images flashed across the muted television, casting flickers of illumination across the dimly lit room. “It's the system...it's...it's how things work...how they always work...”
“The fucking BASTARD wasn't even properly elected. And you're going to lie down to him...and force ME to do the same?” Scotland spat the words out as he picked up one of England's ornate paperweights and held it tightly in his fists until his arm shook, fighting the urge to throw it through the television screen. “We voted to keep those bastards out. They got one fucking constituency in the whole country. Even YOUR people couldn't agree on a majority vote.”
“I don't have a choice!” England's voice suddenly gained strength as he looked the incensed nation in the eye. “Gordon's resigned! We're in recession, we were dragged into America's stupid bloody war, everything is going wrong, People want change...”
“That Tory cunt wants change? Give him 20p and tell him to fuck off!”
“Will you calm down?!” the blond sat down at his desk and put his head in his hands as Scotland continued to pace the floor. “It's not ideal but we need some kind of leadership.”
“Aye, and me and my people count for nothing in that decision?” The redhead leaned over the desk and slammed his hands down on the wooden surface, bringing himself face to face with his tired-looking brother. “Don't you remember what that BITCH did to us the last time these people got power? We...we won't stand a chance...we....” He stopped suddenly, flashing blue eyes scrutinising his brother nation. There were circles under the other nation's eyes and he looked...defeated. Pulling over a chair, he sat down and fixed England with desperate eyes.
“Tha thu 'nad fhaighean!”
His throat was red raw from screaming at him, his cheeks flushed almost the same fiery shade of red as his hair. Blue eyes frosted over with a hatred he hadn't felt since...since the last time England had let those bastards influence him.
“How the bloody HELL could you do this to me?!” Scotland was shouting as he paced the floor, picking up the newspaper and all but throwing it in the blonde man's face. “I thought we were past this shit, England. I thought...”
“It...it's not like that...” England spread out his hands and backed away from the angry redhead. Scotland might have been the smaller nation but, Christ Almighty, he had a formidable temper on him.
“I thought this was supposed to be a democracy?” Scotland demanded, his fists clenched and his hands shaking. “I thought this was supposed to be the United Kingdom, not your own personal fucking playground. What about my people?”
“It's...it's not my fault...” England was stammering now, as images flashed across the muted television, casting flickers of illumination across the dimly lit room. “It's the system...it's...it's how things work...how they always work...”
“The fucking BASTARD wasn't even properly elected. And you're going to lie down to him...and force ME to do the same?” Scotland spat the words out as he picked up one of England's ornate paperweights and held it tightly in his fists until his arm shook, fighting the urge to throw it through the television screen. “We voted to keep those bastards out. They got one fucking constituency in the whole country. Even YOUR people couldn't agree on a majority vote.”
“I don't have a choice!” England's voice suddenly gained strength as he looked the incensed nation in the eye. “Gordon's resigned! We're in recession, we were dragged into America's stupid bloody war, everything is going wrong, People want change...”
“That Tory cunt wants change? Give him 20p and tell him to fuck off!”
“Will you calm down?!” the blond sat down at his desk and put his head in his hands as Scotland continued to pace the floor. “It's not ideal but we need some kind of leadership.”
“Aye, and me and my people count for nothing in that decision?” The redhead leaned over the desk and slammed his hands down on the wooden surface, bringing himself face to face with his tired-looking brother. “Don't you remember what that BITCH did to us the last time these people got power? We...we won't stand a chance...we....” He stopped suddenly, flashing blue eyes scrutinising his brother nation. There were circles under the other nation's eyes and he looked...defeated. Pulling over a chair, he sat down and fixed England with desperate eyes.
Time and Tide and "One Thousand And One Arabian Nights" [1/?]
(Anonymous) - 2010-05-15 07:19 (UTC) - ExpandTime and Tide and "One Thousand And One Arabian Nights" [2/?]
(Anonymous) - 2010-05-15 07:20 (UTC) - ExpandTime and Tide and "One Thousand And One Arabian Nights" [3/?]
(Anonymous) - 2010-05-15 07:21 (UTC) - ExpandTime and Tide and "One Thousand And One Arabian Nights" [4/?]
(Anonymous) - 2010-05-15 07:22 (UTC) - ExpandTime and Tide and "One Thousand And One Arabian Nights" [5/6]
(Anonymous) - 2010-05-15 07:23 (UTC) - ExpandTime and Tide and "One Thousand And One Arabian Nights" [6/6]
(Anonymous) - 2010-05-15 07:37 (UTC) - ExpandIndiana Jones!America x Lara Croft!England, please? :D They can both be searching for the same artifact or something and there'd be delicious UST and snark and seductions and stuff like "You think it's in Cambodia now? Well shit, Arthur, if you find it first I'll fucking BUY you Cambodia" (sorry idk where that came from)
Bonus points for having them wear their respective archeologist-adventurers outfits. (Though you know, England could wear tight pants. :| The thing that really makes me HNGH about Lara's costume is her holsters strapped to her thighs~)
Oh and if there's sexings, please to be making England bottom? D: /shot
Bonus points for having them wear their respective archeologist-adventurers outfits. (Though you know, England could wear tight pants. :| The thing that really makes me HNGH about Lara's costume is her holsters strapped to her thighs~)
Oh and if there's sexings, please to be making England bottom? D: /shot
Well, this idea has buried its way into my head and refuses to leave no matter how much I draw it. I have a lot of sketches, but here's a little teaser of my ideas.
http://i679.photobucket.com/albums/vv151/sapphirefire/croftjonescopy1-2.jpg
Trust me, a lot more is on the way. :P
http://i679.photobucket.com/albums/vv151/sapphirefire/croftjonescopy1-2.jpg
Trust me, a lot more is on the way. :P
So, here in latin america is mother's day; and when we talk about Spain we reffer to him as "la madre patria" (motherland).
Anons, I want Spain's childs giving him gifts, roses, hugs, handmade things, etc.
Make it funny and crack~
Bonus:
Anons, I want Spain's childs giving him gifts, roses, hugs, handmade things, etc.
Make it funny and crack~
Bonus:
- Spain tries to tell them that he is Dady Spain, but nobody listen
- They aware of Spain being a man, but it'll always be "mami" for them
- Somehow, Romano was the one that told them that Spain was their mother.
Awwwwww, so seconded! this is really too cute, and Spain being all Finland-like and "I'm not mami, I'm papi" is adorableXD
"I'm your biggest fan, I'll follow you untill you love me.": Bela+Rus(/Ame with bonus)
(Anonymous) 2010-05-10 04:07 pm (UTC)(link)Yep, Lady Gaga "Paparazzi"-inspired request:
Human AU: International Music star-turned-Movie star Ivan Braginski is aiming up in the world of showbiz, and things are starting to work for him: fame, looks, talent.... and his share of wild fans. But, whats with all these letters and gifts from a certain crazed fan named Natalia? And why, when he starts to ignore her advances, does she suddenly begin to show up everywhere Ivan goes? She interrupts interviews, pubic appearances, and one time, they even had to drag her out of a movie set/location she snuck into. Its starting to seem like even a restraining order won't deter her from "being with the one she's destined to be with for all time."
That's just the scenario. I left it open so author!anon can be free to do whatever they wish with it. It can be crack or serious, but OP would like to point out that this has the potential of becoming something darkish (especially if you've seen the music video for Paparazzi- she kills him at the end). Also remember, Ivan is the victim, not the villain here.
Bonus if you sneak in some RusAme in there: Alfred could be a rival movie star that starts to hang out with Ivan, and Natalia gets super jealous.
In other words: Creepy stalker fic with Movie Star!Ivan and Crazed Fan!Natalia.
Human AU: International Music star-turned-Movie star Ivan Braginski is aiming up in the world of showbiz, and things are starting to work for him: fame, looks, talent.... and his share of wild fans. But, whats with all these letters and gifts from a certain crazed fan named Natalia? And why, when he starts to ignore her advances, does she suddenly begin to show up everywhere Ivan goes? She interrupts interviews, pubic appearances, and one time, they even had to drag her out of a movie set/location she snuck into. Its starting to seem like even a restraining order won't deter her from "being with the one she's destined to be with for all time."
That's just the scenario. I left it open so author!anon can be free to do whatever they wish with it. It can be crack or serious, but OP would like to point out that this has the potential of becoming something darkish (especially if you've seen the music video for Paparazzi- she kills him at the end). Also remember, Ivan is the victim, not the villain here.
Bonus if you sneak in some RusAme in there: Alfred could be a rival movie star that starts to hang out with Ivan, and Natalia gets super jealous.
In other words: Creepy stalker fic with Movie Star!Ivan and Crazed Fan!Natalia.
Second anon here.
Gah, the plot is still so weird and iffy in my head though I've already written part of it (which is rather bad.) I can't really illustrate it.
Uh, have a artfill first? 2, actually, though they're pretty similar in terms of concept. Mainly because one looked strange so another one was made to make up for that.
Also, this is my first fill so I hope this isn't too bad.
http://i1023.photobucket.com/albums/af352/thisisananon/bela1.jpg
http://i1023.photobucket.com/albums/af352/thisisananon/bela2.jpg
Gah, the plot is still so weird and iffy in my head though I've already written part of it (which is rather bad.) I can't really illustrate it.
Uh, have a artfill first? 2, actually, though they're pretty similar in terms of concept. Mainly because one looked strange so another one was made to make up for that.
Also, this is my first fill so I hope this isn't too bad.
http://i1023.photobucket.com/albums/af352/thisisananon/bela1.jpg
http://i1023.photobucket.com/albums/af352/thisisananon/bela2.jpg
Japan stereotypically has the scariest stalkers.
What if one of Kiku's own citizens stalked him? Photographs of him showing up, gifts left behind, trespassing into Japan's personal home, love letters and all else. And Kiku starting to get a little bit jumpy. And by jumpy, I mean Japan actually getting terrified.
Eventually, another Nation or Nations start to notice.
BONUS: Another Nation romantically involved with Japan and ends up receiving the brunt of the stalker's hate.Mun is personally a supporter of EnglandxJapan, but not really GreecexJapan. Sorry >//<
BONUS2:PROTECTIVE!NII-NII!CHINA PLZ?
BONUS3:"Is this another role play? I'LL BE THE HERO."
What if one of Kiku's own citizens stalked him? Photographs of him showing up, gifts left behind, trespassing into Japan's personal home, love letters and all else. And Kiku starting to get a little bit jumpy. And by jumpy, I mean Japan actually getting terrified.
Eventually, another Nation or Nations start to notice.
BONUS: Another Nation romantically involved with Japan and ends up receiving the brunt of the stalker's hate.
BONUS2:
BONUS3:
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Turkey/North Italy, where Italy gets turned on at seeing Turkey dressed in his old attire:
http://fc05.deviantart.net/fs36/f/2008/241/9/e/APH___more_Turkey_by_Amarth9.jpg
http://media.photobucket.com/image/hetalia%20turkey/miscel/Hetalia/7dbd96842e2d87b4a8336ffa63577345.jpg?o=42
I don't care how it happens or why is Turkey dressed like this, but I do want it! Please anons! Feed my kink! extreme bonus if Turkey remains almost completely dressed while they do it.
Plot is accepted.
http://fc05.deviantart.net/fs36/f/2008/241/9/e/APH___more_Turkey_by_Amarth9.jpg
http://media.photobucket.com/image/hetalia%20turkey/miscel/Hetalia/7dbd96842e2d87b4a8336ffa63577345.jpg?o=42
I don't care how it happens or why is Turkey dressed like this, but I do want it! Please anons! Feed my kink! extreme bonus if Turkey remains almost completely dressed while they do it.
Plot is accepted.
This pairing is... not as completely random as you may think.
Seconded and may fill, but I would take a while so if other anons want to try...
Seconded and may fill, but I would take a while so if other anons want to try...
So I recently came to the conclusion that, if Iggy can see unicorns, doesn't that make him a virgin? I drew a comic version of my idea ( http://hyannah.deviantart.com/art/APH-Unicorns-and-Virgins-162064160 ) but I'd really really really like to see it written as a fanfic haha~
So basically it could go down like this:
America comes to the conclusion that England must be a virgin if he had the ability to see unicorns and somehow smut ensues by America taking Iggy's virginity himself. Of course, the fill is generally supposed to be funny but if you ARE going to add smut, which I hope you do, please make it sappy and romantic <3
Please anons!
So basically it could go down like this:
America comes to the conclusion that England must be a virgin if he had the ability to see unicorns and somehow smut ensues by America taking Iggy's virginity himself. Of course, the fill is generally supposed to be funny but if you ARE going to add smut, which I hope you do, please make it sappy and romantic <3
Please anons!
America and England stumbled into the bedroom and onto the bed, their bodies immediately taking advantage of the flat surface to press closer together, lips meshing and separating only to take gasps of breath as zippers were pulled and buttons undone.
“Mmph- Iggy,” moaned Alfred, “So fucking hot…”
“Yes – oh God, yes! Ah-America!” England gasped as Alfred’s warm hand encircled his cock, “F-faster!”
“Eng-England… babe, you’re so fucking sexy~” America crooned back. Maybe, he thought, maybe today would be the day… maybe they could finally… he lost his train of thought as he began to circle Arthur’s entrance with his finger before gently pressing into the little oh-so-tight hole –
And before he knew it, England had pushed him off and away, so America kneeled on the foot of the bed while England leaned against the headboard, panting while glaring reproachfully at Alfred.
America ran a rough hand through his hair, sexual frustration and irritation at himself welling inside his chest. Arthur said nothing, but continued to stare with perhaps a bit less heat than he initially started with.
“Aww, shucks Iggy, I’m sorry.” America sighed, looking dejectedly at the comforter. He had sworn that he would not pressure England into sex… even though that had been more than fifty years ago, at the beginning of their relationship. Still, breaking promises was just not heroic.
“No…” England said softly, crawling until his knees were touching across from America’s. “No, I’m sorry. You have been waiting an awful long while.”
America perked up, asking, “So we’re gonna do it?” But one look into England’s conflicted face told him that no, that was not happening. Not today. So he took England’s hand and began playing with the Englishman’s fingers, rolling the slim digits with the pads of his fingertips. “Can… can I ask why, though?”
Arthur looked down at their joined fingers. “You’re going to laugh. Or get mad.”
“Of course not, Iggy!” Alfred assured him. “After all, heroes never laugh at damsels in distress!”
“I’m not a damsel in distress, you wanker!”
“You look pretty distressed to me.”
..............
To be continued!
“Mmph- Iggy,” moaned Alfred, “So fucking hot…”
“Yes – oh God, yes! Ah-America!” England gasped as Alfred’s warm hand encircled his cock, “F-faster!”
“Eng-England… babe, you’re so fucking sexy~” America crooned back. Maybe, he thought, maybe today would be the day… maybe they could finally… he lost his train of thought as he began to circle Arthur’s entrance with his finger before gently pressing into the little oh-so-tight hole –
And before he knew it, England had pushed him off and away, so America kneeled on the foot of the bed while England leaned against the headboard, panting while glaring reproachfully at Alfred.
America ran a rough hand through his hair, sexual frustration and irritation at himself welling inside his chest. Arthur said nothing, but continued to stare with perhaps a bit less heat than he initially started with.
“Aww, shucks Iggy, I’m sorry.” America sighed, looking dejectedly at the comforter. He had sworn that he would not pressure England into sex… even though that had been more than fifty years ago, at the beginning of their relationship. Still, breaking promises was just not heroic.
“No…” England said softly, crawling until his knees were touching across from America’s. “No, I’m sorry. You have been waiting an awful long while.”
America perked up, asking, “So we’re gonna do it?” But one look into England’s conflicted face told him that no, that was not happening. Not today. So he took England’s hand and began playing with the Englishman’s fingers, rolling the slim digits with the pads of his fingertips. “Can… can I ask why, though?”
Arthur looked down at their joined fingers. “You’re going to laugh. Or get mad.”
“Of course not, Iggy!” Alfred assured him. “After all, heroes never laugh at damsels in distress!”
“I’m not a damsel in distress, you wanker!”
“You look pretty distressed to me.”
..............
To be continued!
Germany/Italy - Italy's searching on the internet and comes across some fan-fiction that involves him and Germany doing... well, you know what. >///<
Italy, being clueless, doesn't understand what the Seme and Uke's roles are and asks Germany what it is.
Kindly, Germany shows him. >:D
Italy, being clueless, doesn't understand what the Seme and Uke's roles are and asks Germany what it is.
Kindly, Germany shows him. >:D
First of all, I don't even know. I thought I would get that out of the way right off. Also, I'm more than half asleep so there's a better than even chance this sucks. Big time.
What's Seme?
Italy downed the last bite of his lunch and smiled across the small table at Germany. "Thank you for the food, Germany. It was very good!"
Germany just grunted back and pushed away from the table as the other man stood up and drifted around the table. He made sure he was far from the table by the time the Italian swooped down and gave him a tight hug.
"I'm going to take a siesta now~!" Italy said. Germany patted him awkwardly on the back and the Italian let go of him, drifting off to the other room. Germany turned back to the table and picked up his newspaper again.
Italy stopped in the next room and peeked around the edge of the door to make sure Germany wasn't looking. He nodded to himself and carefully walked into Germany's office, closing the door behind himself. He sat down in the larger man's chair, wiggling to get comfortable.
"Today's siesta is a computer siesta~! I can't wait..." he whispered to himself. He glanced at the door, before he pulled up the internet browser and started browsing.
~*~*~*~*~
Germany looked up from his reading after an hour had passed, a frown on his face. He set the paper down on the table and listened intently, hearing neither Italy's soft snores nor his constant nonsense sounds. He felt the hairs on his neck stand up and he automatically checked his gun holster as he stood up.
He kept one hand curled loosely around the butt of his gun and he pressed himself against the wall as he moved into the next room. He made his way to Italy's room and spun around the doorframe, clasping his gun tighter, pulling it out of the holster. He glanced around the room, looking for the smaller man, and found that his bed was still made, which meant that he never made it that far.
He backed out of the room, his gun still held in one hand and made his way back to the main room. He held the gun higher and glanced around quickly, looking for signs of an invasion. Not seeing anything, he raised his head. "ITALY! Are you here!"
~*~*~*~*~
Italy sat up straight in Germany's chair as he heard Germany yelling for him. He opened his mouth to respond before he remembered and clapped a hand over his mouth. "Be quiet, Italy. You're not supposed to be using Germany's computer. He's just trying to trick you."
Instead, Italy curled back up in the chair, reaching one hand out to continue clicking. His relaxation did not last very long, though. He sat up straight again, leaning over the computer for a closer look as he saw both his name and Germany's.
"Wow... I wonder what this is. Maybe Prussia is writing about us again!" He smiled broadly as he opened the link.
What's Seme?
Italy downed the last bite of his lunch and smiled across the small table at Germany. "Thank you for the food, Germany. It was very good!"
Germany just grunted back and pushed away from the table as the other man stood up and drifted around the table. He made sure he was far from the table by the time the Italian swooped down and gave him a tight hug.
"I'm going to take a siesta now~!" Italy said. Germany patted him awkwardly on the back and the Italian let go of him, drifting off to the other room. Germany turned back to the table and picked up his newspaper again.
Italy stopped in the next room and peeked around the edge of the door to make sure Germany wasn't looking. He nodded to himself and carefully walked into Germany's office, closing the door behind himself. He sat down in the larger man's chair, wiggling to get comfortable.
"Today's siesta is a computer siesta~! I can't wait..." he whispered to himself. He glanced at the door, before he pulled up the internet browser and started browsing.
~*~*~*~*~
Germany looked up from his reading after an hour had passed, a frown on his face. He set the paper down on the table and listened intently, hearing neither Italy's soft snores nor his constant nonsense sounds. He felt the hairs on his neck stand up and he automatically checked his gun holster as he stood up.
He kept one hand curled loosely around the butt of his gun and he pressed himself against the wall as he moved into the next room. He made his way to Italy's room and spun around the doorframe, clasping his gun tighter, pulling it out of the holster. He glanced around the room, looking for the smaller man, and found that his bed was still made, which meant that he never made it that far.
He backed out of the room, his gun still held in one hand and made his way back to the main room. He held the gun higher and glanced around quickly, looking for signs of an invasion. Not seeing anything, he raised his head. "ITALY! Are you here!"
~*~*~*~*~
Italy sat up straight in Germany's chair as he heard Germany yelling for him. He opened his mouth to respond before he remembered and clapped a hand over his mouth. "Be quiet, Italy. You're not supposed to be using Germany's computer. He's just trying to trick you."
Instead, Italy curled back up in the chair, reaching one hand out to continue clicking. His relaxation did not last very long, though. He sat up straight again, leaning over the computer for a closer look as he saw both his name and Germany's.
"Wow... I wonder what this is. Maybe Prussia is writing about us again!" He smiled broadly as he opened the link.
So America, Prussia, and Zack Fair walk into a British pub...
Bonus: Streaking.
Captcha: resisted boas. You'd rather have a French bar, captcha?
Bonus: Streaking.
Captcha: resisted boas. You'd rather have a French bar, captcha?
It's been years since America has cleaned underneath his bed, he drops something and when he goes after it he notices faded chalk marks beneath the layers of dust. Curious he moves the bed and discovers a pentagram (or something similar) drawn there. He immediately reverts to his Puritan ways and assumes that it's evil and someone is trying to curse him. He confronts England (or Russia...or Norway...) to demand answers. Said nation must convince America that it's not there for evil purposes but protective/comforting ones. Smut is optional but a plus and bist of extra plottiness are definitely a plus.
Bonus: It was put there after 9/11 and It's secondary function is to act as quick travel route to America's house if there was some kind of emergency where the airspace is shut down or just not working.
Double Bonus: This somehow ends in Russia/America/England...cause...yeah...just 'cause.
Bonus: It was put there after 9/11 and It's secondary function is to act as quick travel route to America's house if there was some kind of emergency where the airspace is shut down or just not working.
Double Bonus: This somehow ends in Russia/America/England...cause...yeah...just 'cause.
Tried my best http://hetalia-kink.livejournal.com/7233.html?thread=42474817#t42474817
MALE!TAIWAN X FEM!JAPAN
Wan trying to get his beloved neesan's attention by seducing her. Using Japanese hentai and shoujo manga.
Little brother isn't as innocent or naive as Kiku or Yao, really, likes to think.
To the kind author!anon who can make this as hot as it is sweet and fluffy, you will have my eternal love and worship. ♥♥♥
Wan trying to get his beloved neesan's attention by seducing her. Using Japanese hentai and shoujo manga.
Little brother isn't as innocent or naive as Kiku or Yao, really, likes to think.
SECONDED
SO HARD. <3
Taiwan is love and genderbends are love and hentai is love... THIS ENTIRE IDEA IS LOVE~ <3
SO HARD. <3
Taiwan is love and genderbends are love and hentai is love... THIS ENTIRE IDEA IS LOVE~ <3
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