![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Russia/Poland; faucet!rape, ball-gag, and possibly Russia finding something 'useful' for Poland to do with his mouth. The more abusive, the better.
Hetalia/G Gundam crossover. Anon can't be the only one that thought of this...
OK, this? It's probably loaded with Unfortunate Implications, but since it combines what amounts to a very long and awesome toy commercial with a comic that is pretty much made of potential offence, I do not think there was any delicate way to write this. Sorry. I ended up going with "GGundam!Japan haets foreigners, but yay cultural blending; imperialism and war are not fun times." Given the way G Gundam progresses, GGundam!Countries do not necessarily equal RealLife!Countries, mind.
"Forgive me for saying this, but do you mean that I am no longer needed?"
Japan's boss shook his head vigorously. "Of course not! Where did you get that idea? A number of people will still continue to live on Earth. The old laws and borders still apply as much as they ever did. No matter what happens, you're still our Japan."
"Nevertheless, you named it New Japan," said Japan, emphasising the last two words. "Does that not imply that I am being replaced?"
"It means that it's an extension of you. Our...your population is growing very quickly. We need to expand if we want to survive. Haven't we come this far by embracing new things?"
—We were born to die anyway, right? So what does it matter? Either come with me and win, or stay here and watch me win!—
"...And you? What do you intend to do, sir?" Japan was able to say once he found his voice again.
"I? Well, I will take up residence on the colony to ensure that things progress smoothly there. You'll still be able to speak to me, of course. I'll be living a bit farther away, but I'll still be your 'boss'."
Japan did not ask about that, and when the others dropped by for the shuttle launch looking like death warmed twice over, Japan did not ask about that either. He quietly stood and watched the contrails as they chattered on about technical specifications or something, and even when America offhandedly used the word aluminium, Japan could only glance at him in confusion.
"Forgive me for saying this, but do you mean that I am no longer needed?"
Japan's boss shook his head vigorously. "Of course not! Where did you get that idea? A number of people will still continue to live on Earth. The old laws and borders still apply as much as they ever did. No matter what happens, you're still our Japan."
"Nevertheless, you named it New Japan," said Japan, emphasising the last two words. "Does that not imply that I am being replaced?"
"It means that it's an extension of you. Our...your population is growing very quickly. We need to expand if we want to survive. Haven't we come this far by embracing new things?"
—We were born to die anyway, right? So what does it matter? Either come with me and win, or stay here and watch me win!—
"...And you? What do you intend to do, sir?" Japan was able to say once he found his voice again.
"I? Well, I will take up residence on the colony to ensure that things progress smoothly there. You'll still be able to speak to me, of course. I'll be living a bit farther away, but I'll still be your 'boss'."
Japan did not ask about that, and when the others dropped by for the shuttle launch looking like death warmed twice over, Japan did not ask about that either. He quietly stood and watched the contrails as they chattered on about technical specifications or something, and even when America offhandedly used the word aluminium, Japan could only glance at him in confusion.
Becasue I'm sure he isn't a brat all the time I'd like to request some cute brotherly bonding between Sealand and England, whether it be watching cartoons or playing a game or something else it is up to writer!anon~ Just something fluffy and heartwarming would make my day!
Bonus points for America and/or Canada coming over for family tiems as well~
Preference on human names but I don't really mind at all if you use country names either
Also would prefer this NOT to be pedo kthx
Bonus points for America and/or Canada coming over for family tiems as well~
Preference on human names but I don't really mind at all if you use country names either
Also would prefer this NOT to be pedo kthx
I'd like to see something about England and his interaction with the Fae. Not fairies - as in little glittery winged thingies - but the Fae. "Terrible in their beauty, Fairest and Fallen..." Ever read Tam Lin? The original Fair Folk. The scary ones.
Bonus for mention/use of Cold Iron.
Bonus for mention/use of Cold Iron.
Not quite what was asked, but for this piece it seemed right that England's siblings be involved as well.
There is something old and wild in the land. In them.
They all share it - dour Wales, grim Scotland, turbulent Ireland, weary England. It is their gift, their legacy.
Their responsibility.
Great Pan haunts their hills and fields, bringing people his terrible gifts.
In the deepest, darkest parts of their forests, the Green Man dwells, ancient and primal.
The Wild Hunt rides their skies, chasing down those unfortunate enough to draw their attention.
When the Court comes to the world, when the King, the Queen, and the Jester visit the Earthly realms, these lands - /their/ lands - are where they set foot.
Over the centuries, the family of Albion has dealt with the Old Powers, struck pacts and bargains. As Russia has the General, so do they have the Good Folk - their sometime allies and protectors.
And as Russia pays his toll, so does the family of Albion.
There are places in their lands that are... not truly theirs, places where people disappear, or come back... changed, never quite what they were.
Even America and Canada, their brother-sons - even they are not close enough for this. This is for the four of them alone, the children of Albion and Eire.
They are not monsters though, the Fair Ones, or do not like to be known as such. They taught the family of Albion how they might keep their people safe from harm, and in turn the family taught their people. How to show their respects to their neighbours, the people under the hills; how iron would keep them safe against danger (not cold iron; that was Kipling's, and as much as England admires the man, his word is not law); how to see their changelings when they walked amongst them; all this and more besides they taught them.
That in this current era people forget such simple rules is a cause of some regret to Albion's family.
They hold their bargain dear, even so.
It is a part of who they are, the old magic, as natural as breathing; it is there in their land, their people, to those with the eyes to see. They would not set it aside, even if they could.
They will pay their toll till Albion sinks beneath the waves, and count it a fair bargain.
There is something old and wild in the land. In them.
They all share it - dour Wales, grim Scotland, turbulent Ireland, weary England. It is their gift, their legacy.
Their responsibility.
Great Pan haunts their hills and fields, bringing people his terrible gifts.
In the deepest, darkest parts of their forests, the Green Man dwells, ancient and primal.
The Wild Hunt rides their skies, chasing down those unfortunate enough to draw their attention.
When the Court comes to the world, when the King, the Queen, and the Jester visit the Earthly realms, these lands - /their/ lands - are where they set foot.
Over the centuries, the family of Albion has dealt with the Old Powers, struck pacts and bargains. As Russia has the General, so do they have the Good Folk - their sometime allies and protectors.
And as Russia pays his toll, so does the family of Albion.
There are places in their lands that are... not truly theirs, places where people disappear, or come back... changed, never quite what they were.
Even America and Canada, their brother-sons - even they are not close enough for this. This is for the four of them alone, the children of Albion and Eire.
They are not monsters though, the Fair Ones, or do not like to be known as such. They taught the family of Albion how they might keep their people safe from harm, and in turn the family taught their people. How to show their respects to their neighbours, the people under the hills; how iron would keep them safe against danger (not cold iron; that was Kipling's, and as much as England admires the man, his word is not law); how to see their changelings when they walked amongst them; all this and more besides they taught them.
That in this current era people forget such simple rules is a cause of some regret to Albion's family.
They hold their bargain dear, even so.
It is a part of who they are, the old magic, as natural as breathing; it is there in their land, their people, to those with the eyes to see. They would not set it aside, even if they could.
They will pay their toll till Albion sinks beneath the waves, and count it a fair bargain.
I think that the nations have their own mythology - their anthrophormophic personifications; they've got long memories, and I think that their own history is passed down through word of mouth. I'd like to hear them telling each other about Atlantis, and what s/he was like; kinda an urban legend or something?
[Prologue]
Evening had already taken hold of the day and the sky was only slightly darker that high noon. In mid-August the days were long in Japan. Long and unbearably hot as well. It had been rather weird the how everyone suddently -or not so suddently but let us not elaborate on this matter- had gotten invited to the small temple's Obon.
After leaving their lanterns outside and gathering inside the temple, where Japan waited for them, they proceeded to take their seats rather awkwardly. Well, none of them were familiar with this kind of ritual so to speak so they tried to copy one another if they cared enough to be typical, because those that didn't care just did things their own way, chattering and lazying here and there.
"Why does it have to be so damn hot!?" someone protested before he was quickly given an appropriate reply.
"Aren't you always whimpering about it being too cold, Russia?" the speaker was somewhere behind Russia so he couldn't see him the way he was kneeled, however he could never mistake Arthur Kirkland's voice. He was about to talk back but for some reason did nothing but whine -said reason was China's cold glare (starting a fight in a temple was an ill omen was it not?)-. Arthur chuckled triumphantly and would probably say something more to top it off when Japan intruded in their conversation -if that could be concidered anything close to 'intruding' being done in such a polite manner-.
"Would you please refrain from fighting, please? It might unsettle the spirits." an uneasy silence followed his words. The believers just did as told fearing the 'wrath of the ancestral ghosts', those that didn't believe in the other hand simply followed the rest, mumbling quietly, debating over the how believable the whole story about spirits was.
"So, what exactly are we going to do?" someone asked, turning towards the voice that had echoed over the silence, the individual revealed himself to be Italy.
"The original procedure consists of ghost stories in order to ward the evil spirits, it would be more appropriate if we called upon our lost ancestors to put their spirits to rest, however." Japan repplied quietly, hands that were resting on his lap, elegantly holding his fan moving from their place to make some air to cool his face off. He had feared it was going to be harder than this, then again they were simply beginning.
"Lost ancestors?" attention was directed back towards the countries gathered in a circle around Japan, this time the spotlight being Poland, conveniently seated by the candlelight. He didn't say anything more regarding the attention shift as he waited a reply to his question.
"I believe that Japan meant talking about people we know that have dissapeared..." a soft voice was heard from Poland's left. It was none other than Latvia, shyly blushing at having spoken up in the silence after Poland's question. "Like in the story of Mokuren."
"Do you want to start, Poland-san?" Kiku questioned tilting his head to one side as he looked over at him. There was another couple of silent moments as everyone awaited for Poland's reply, however all this attention was starting to get to him and Feliks blushed, embarassed, as he tried to stutter out a reply to that.
"Greece should start." it was Lithuania that covered for Poland as always, making Heracles raise his head in question seeing how the heat and atmosphere had made him space out.
"Me?" was the quite simple reply given.
"Well considering your location many people come and go, you ought to know of someone that dissapeared." Toris explained making a small nod to underline his words.
Greece spent a few moments thinking then finally replied.
"I think I know of one." he spoke. "There was this tale mother used to always tell about a person that she said was her cousin who I never got to see. As she said back then... he dissapeared never to be seen again."
This time there was quiet also but because everyone seemed to get interested.
"His name was Atlantis"
------------------------------
excuuuuuse the cliffhanger, please and thank you.
We shall get to the good stuff tommorow, =w= promise!
I might care to elaborate on the facts that led to the countries being forced to participate in the Obon someday....
Evening had already taken hold of the day and the sky was only slightly darker that high noon. In mid-August the days were long in Japan. Long and unbearably hot as well. It had been rather weird the how everyone suddently -or not so suddently but let us not elaborate on this matter- had gotten invited to the small temple's Obon.
After leaving their lanterns outside and gathering inside the temple, where Japan waited for them, they proceeded to take their seats rather awkwardly. Well, none of them were familiar with this kind of ritual so to speak so they tried to copy one another if they cared enough to be typical, because those that didn't care just did things their own way, chattering and lazying here and there.
"Why does it have to be so damn hot!?" someone protested before he was quickly given an appropriate reply.
"Aren't you always whimpering about it being too cold, Russia?" the speaker was somewhere behind Russia so he couldn't see him the way he was kneeled, however he could never mistake Arthur Kirkland's voice. He was about to talk back but for some reason did nothing but whine -said reason was China's cold glare (starting a fight in a temple was an ill omen was it not?)-. Arthur chuckled triumphantly and would probably say something more to top it off when Japan intruded in their conversation -if that could be concidered anything close to 'intruding' being done in such a polite manner-.
"Would you please refrain from fighting, please? It might unsettle the spirits." an uneasy silence followed his words. The believers just did as told fearing the 'wrath of the ancestral ghosts', those that didn't believe in the other hand simply followed the rest, mumbling quietly, debating over the how believable the whole story about spirits was.
"So, what exactly are we going to do?" someone asked, turning towards the voice that had echoed over the silence, the individual revealed himself to be Italy.
"The original procedure consists of ghost stories in order to ward the evil spirits, it would be more appropriate if we called upon our lost ancestors to put their spirits to rest, however." Japan repplied quietly, hands that were resting on his lap, elegantly holding his fan moving from their place to make some air to cool his face off. He had feared it was going to be harder than this, then again they were simply beginning.
"Lost ancestors?" attention was directed back towards the countries gathered in a circle around Japan, this time the spotlight being Poland, conveniently seated by the candlelight. He didn't say anything more regarding the attention shift as he waited a reply to his question.
"I believe that Japan meant talking about people we know that have dissapeared..." a soft voice was heard from Poland's left. It was none other than Latvia, shyly blushing at having spoken up in the silence after Poland's question. "Like in the story of Mokuren."
"Do you want to start, Poland-san?" Kiku questioned tilting his head to one side as he looked over at him. There was another couple of silent moments as everyone awaited for Poland's reply, however all this attention was starting to get to him and Feliks blushed, embarassed, as he tried to stutter out a reply to that.
"Greece should start." it was Lithuania that covered for Poland as always, making Heracles raise his head in question seeing how the heat and atmosphere had made him space out.
"Me?" was the quite simple reply given.
"Well considering your location many people come and go, you ought to know of someone that dissapeared." Toris explained making a small nod to underline his words.
Greece spent a few moments thinking then finally replied.
"I think I know of one." he spoke. "There was this tale mother used to always tell about a person that she said was her cousin who I never got to see. As she said back then... he dissapeared never to be seen again."
This time there was quiet also but because everyone seemed to get interested.
"His name was Atlantis"
------------------------------
excuuuuuse the cliffhanger, please and thank you.
We shall get to the good stuff tommorow, =w= promise!
I might care to elaborate on the facts that led to the countries being forced to participate in the Obon someday....
Korea/China. Korea gives China a Happy Ending (invented in Korea, Aniki!) and China lets him because after a long day of work, it's nice to come home to something like that, right?
Bonus for Korea being extra sexy about doing it too.
Bonus for Korea being extra sexy about doing it too.
GOD YES. SECONDED. Korea has crazy, sexy, molesty massage skillz in the comic, so this just makes sense!
US/UK or UK/US, OP doesn't care.
What she does want is anon to include the DVD BOX SET OF FAIL (http://www.guardian.co.uk/film/filmblog/2009/mar/06/obama-dvd-brown/). No preference as to country/human names, sex completely optional.
What she does want is anon to include the DVD BOX SET OF FAIL (http://www.guardian.co.uk/film/filmblog/2009/mar/06/obama-dvd-brown/). No preference as to country/human names, sex completely optional.
"Honestly, it's tacky, like some half-assed Christmas present....aah... A-Are you listening to me?"
"Uh huh." America mumbled as he continued to mouth against England's neck.
"Then what did I just say?"
"You were saying something about my present for your boss." America pulled back from where he was sprawled over England on the couch to look him in the face. "I picked it out myself, I always do." He sat up and picked up the large box set from the coffee table beside them. "How can you not love this? It's a collection of some of my most awesome movies ever! It's even got ET, one of Tony's personal favorites."
England suppressed a shudder at the mention of America's creepy alien friend. "I know it's the thought that counts, but still, that is not an appropriate gift for a head of state. You continue to give things YOU like, such as that ridiculous jacket-"
"Oh come on!" America pouted as he looked down at his flight jacket, pulling at it with both hands. "Who doesn't love the jacket? It's practically my trademark! There's nothing that says America like the jacket!"
"Idiot, everything isn't all about you!"
"Would you feel better if I put on Lawrence of Arabia?" America pulled up the DVD and waved it in England's face.
With a swipe of his hand, England sent the DVD flying to the ground and pushed America back into the couch. "Shut up and prepare to give me good reason to overlook this slight, you git."
"It's even got the director's cu-" His voice cut off as England kissed him roughly. He quickly returned the kiss as England was working to remove what he pantingly referred to as the "fucking jacket."
Several minutes later, the remaining contents of the DVD box set were scattered beneath the coffee table.
"Uh huh." America mumbled as he continued to mouth against England's neck.
"Then what did I just say?"
"You were saying something about my present for your boss." America pulled back from where he was sprawled over England on the couch to look him in the face. "I picked it out myself, I always do." He sat up and picked up the large box set from the coffee table beside them. "How can you not love this? It's a collection of some of my most awesome movies ever! It's even got ET, one of Tony's personal favorites."
England suppressed a shudder at the mention of America's creepy alien friend. "I know it's the thought that counts, but still, that is not an appropriate gift for a head of state. You continue to give things YOU like, such as that ridiculous jacket-"
"Oh come on!" America pouted as he looked down at his flight jacket, pulling at it with both hands. "Who doesn't love the jacket? It's practically my trademark! There's nothing that says America like the jacket!"
"Idiot, everything isn't all about you!"
"Would you feel better if I put on Lawrence of Arabia?" America pulled up the DVD and waved it in England's face.
With a swipe of his hand, England sent the DVD flying to the ground and pushed America back into the couch. "Shut up and prepare to give me good reason to overlook this slight, you git."
"It's even got the director's cu-" His voice cut off as England kissed him roughly. He quickly returned the kiss as England was working to remove what he pantingly referred to as the "fucking jacket."
Several minutes later, the remaining contents of the DVD box set were scattered beneath the coffee table.
Russia tells Belarus and Ukraine how back in the day, according to him, he saved his Slavic siblings from Lithuanian tyranny and wrought justice upon the evil Liet turning his once fearsome rival into his personal subordinate.
sorry for such a kooky request, this anon just admires Russia's
special ability to alter history to convenience the motherland.
smuts optional, but strongly encouraged :D
sorry for such a kooky request, this anon just admires Russia's
special ability to alter history to convenience the motherland.
smuts optional, but strongly encouraged :D
The Americans, like the English, probably make love worse than any other race.
-Walt Whitman, US poet
America/England, bad!sex.
-Walt Whitman, US poet
America/England, bad!sex.
GDR!Gilbert spying on Germany (across the Berlin wall, Stasi-style) and getting off to whatever Ludwig is doing. Can be angsty/funny/etc
(screened comment)
(screened comment)
Their relations, daily life, 'special relationship' with Russia, feeling of isolation, secret meetings.
Not the author!anon above, but I hope it's still okay.
Just click here (http://hetalia-kink.livejournal.com/9482.html?thread=11555338#t11555338).
Just click here (http://hetalia-kink.livejournal.com/9482.html?thread=11555338#t11555338).
So we generally see France and Spain, canonically, as being on excellent terms. This anon would like to see the other side of their relationship, a la Spanish War of Independence, so~
France/Spain, set during the Peninsular War/Spanish War of Independence, with a love-hate dynamic thrown in and angry dubcon sex that borders on noncon.
France/Spain, set during the Peninsular War/Spanish War of Independence, with a love-hate dynamic thrown in and angry dubcon sex that borders on noncon.
In their early days, it was simpler. Those childhood days are far away now, hiding behind ocean waves and wind. Antonio had played in the fields with Francis and they would hide from each other, popping up and down like paper planes in the summer or at the lakes, splashing and yelping, high and young. And, of course, the play-fights that dominated young boy’s lives then, they had too. With these small, wooden swords they made in a single day, they broke in a single day, but Antonio would always win. After a while anyways, Francis and his golden billows of fine hair whipping around was damn quick, hard to catch. Then they still shared little secrets, whispered soft and quick.
There were bruises and busted knuckles and blood a little when they got older, Francis was sixteen and Antonio fifteen. But when they weren’t fighting, because all boys did, they sat back and watched the clouds or sunset and let the bruises heal. Warm patches of skin and dull throb disappearing in a week, give or take.
But now, Antonio walks into the room, closing the door so it wouldn’t slam behind him. He stands by the door for a while, looking at the face he knows. He looks different, just a little, but his eyes and hair are still the same. “Hello Francis.”
“Welcome home, Antonio!” He laughs softly, patting the table, bare and hard wood. Just like it was home or the field of grass they laid down together when they were kids.
“Francis, we’re not here for games. I believe I can help you.”
“Well don’t you have another alliance?” Antonio sits down and Francis sheds his coat and tosses it into the chair next to him, Antonio across the table. He sure looks good in blue. “With—well, you know quite well—Portugal?”
“And what does it matter?”
“It doesn’t, you don’t seem like the honest, and loving Antonio I knew, monsieur.” Francis taps his fingers on the table and Antonio just stares a little. A dead-on-straight stare.
“I’m not here for games.” He plays with his lip, carefully. He slows. “I don’t have time for it right now, though I would love to.” There’s an edge to his last words. Antonio couldn’t even relax—maybe he could if he had tried—not with rebellion, war, poverty, and disease creeping about every shadow in every corner of the city. That’s too much.
“Oui, mon cher.”
“Do not call me that.” He stiffens even more in his seat. Francis is still sitting languidly in his chair, arms spread out across the back of it and palms toward Heaven.
“Well, I shall take this alliance, but it is not necessary to our capture of Portugal.” And Spain. Antonio, mouth slightly open, lips parted, gets up abruptly. “Send your people tomorrow.” He does not wave good-bye to Francis nor does he push in his chair. He walks to the open door and stops a little, looking back to Francis who is still sitting in the chair with the same expression as when he first entered. Same expression he had when he first entered the world. And he looks back only once. “Old habits die hard, non?”
Antonio lets the door slam shut behind him.
There were bruises and busted knuckles and blood a little when they got older, Francis was sixteen and Antonio fifteen. But when they weren’t fighting, because all boys did, they sat back and watched the clouds or sunset and let the bruises heal. Warm patches of skin and dull throb disappearing in a week, give or take.
But now, Antonio walks into the room, closing the door so it wouldn’t slam behind him. He stands by the door for a while, looking at the face he knows. He looks different, just a little, but his eyes and hair are still the same. “Hello Francis.”
“Welcome home, Antonio!” He laughs softly, patting the table, bare and hard wood. Just like it was home or the field of grass they laid down together when they were kids.
“Francis, we’re not here for games. I believe I can help you.”
“Well don’t you have another alliance?” Antonio sits down and Francis sheds his coat and tosses it into the chair next to him, Antonio across the table. He sure looks good in blue. “With—well, you know quite well—Portugal?”
“And what does it matter?”
“It doesn’t, you don’t seem like the honest, and loving Antonio I knew, monsieur.” Francis taps his fingers on the table and Antonio just stares a little. A dead-on-straight stare.
“I’m not here for games.” He plays with his lip, carefully. He slows. “I don’t have time for it right now, though I would love to.” There’s an edge to his last words. Antonio couldn’t even relax—maybe he could if he had tried—not with rebellion, war, poverty, and disease creeping about every shadow in every corner of the city. That’s too much.
“Oui, mon cher.”
“Do not call me that.” He stiffens even more in his seat. Francis is still sitting languidly in his chair, arms spread out across the back of it and palms toward Heaven.
“Well, I shall take this alliance, but it is not necessary to our capture of Portugal.” And Spain. Antonio, mouth slightly open, lips parted, gets up abruptly. “Send your people tomorrow.” He does not wave good-bye to Francis nor does he push in his chair. He walks to the open door and stops a little, looking back to Francis who is still sitting in the chair with the same expression as when he first entered. Same expression he had when he first entered the world. And he looks back only once. “Old habits die hard, non?”
Antonio lets the door slam shut behind him.
Greece and Turkey are fighting -as always- when a messenger(!!) appears and hands them a baby along with a note that they must care for it ...together!!! Said baby is Cyprus (of course... For one I always thought that Cyprus could only be their lovechild xP ) Now the two are stuck not only together but with a child to take care of. I mean, just how WORSE can it get?? xD
Bonus for fun times and if the two end up having sex trying to be extra quiet not to wake little Cyprus up!~
Bonus for fun times and if the two end up having sex trying to be extra quiet not to wake little Cyprus up!~
Just to clarify, you don't mean the official Hetalia character TRNC Cyprus with the little hat and everything, you mean pre-division Cyprus?
kid!America, kid!Canada & UK - it's Great Britain's birthday coming up and the kid colonies are planning to buy him the bestest present ever~~ I'd like this super extremely cute, pls.
This anon is... okay with fluff, and is first fill on the meme.
Don't read for it may partially suck. ;_;
---
"You sure you got everything ready Al?" A small, high pitched, yet still boyish voice asked. Alfred nodded, grinning from ear to ear and beaming with excitement.
"Don't worry so much Matty! I'm sure I got everything right!" Alfred said with complete happiness in his voice. The other blonde, nodded meekly and followed his brother as he was dragged by the door, waiting for Arthur to come back. The next few moments the boys spent chattering excitedly, imagining how it would turn out, the both of them grinning widely and felt like they would jump out of their shoes.
But, their waiting was seconds which turned into minutes which turned to hours and the excitement seemed to just, go away. Eventually, the duo fell asleep by the door, Arthur not coming back until late that night. The front door opened with a click, and Arthur opened, two boys falling onto his shoes, fast asleep. He picked them up, trying not wake them up and placing them in their bed.
Almost getting them into their bed without any disturbances, Alfred peeked his eyes open, catching Arthur shirt in a light grip.
"Me... 'n Matty wanna say... 'appy birthday... " He mumbled sleepily, not staying awake for too long as his eyelids drooped heavily over his large blue eyes. Arthur smiled softly at him and kissed his forehead lightly. "Thank you Alfred, now sleep." It didn't take long before the small male did fall asleep, as Arthur tucked them in tighter, leaning over to kiss Matthew's head softly, and heading out the door, closing it with a soft click.
Arthur went into the kitchen and found a lumpy, pink frosted cake on the table, the words 'Happy Birthday Arthur!' scrawled on the top, beside 3 small candles. The older nation smiled even more and found himself eating the cake in silence, saying thank you to the two children in his head over and over again.
Don't read for it may partially suck. ;_;
---
"You sure you got everything ready Al?" A small, high pitched, yet still boyish voice asked. Alfred nodded, grinning from ear to ear and beaming with excitement.
"Don't worry so much Matty! I'm sure I got everything right!" Alfred said with complete happiness in his voice. The other blonde, nodded meekly and followed his brother as he was dragged by the door, waiting for Arthur to come back. The next few moments the boys spent chattering excitedly, imagining how it would turn out, the both of them grinning widely and felt like they would jump out of their shoes.
But, their waiting was seconds which turned into minutes which turned to hours and the excitement seemed to just, go away. Eventually, the duo fell asleep by the door, Arthur not coming back until late that night. The front door opened with a click, and Arthur opened, two boys falling onto his shoes, fast asleep. He picked them up, trying not wake them up and placing them in their bed.
Almost getting them into their bed without any disturbances, Alfred peeked his eyes open, catching Arthur shirt in a light grip.
"Me... 'n Matty wanna say... 'appy birthday... " He mumbled sleepily, not staying awake for too long as his eyelids drooped heavily over his large blue eyes. Arthur smiled softly at him and kissed his forehead lightly. "Thank you Alfred, now sleep." It didn't take long before the small male did fall asleep, as Arthur tucked them in tighter, leaning over to kiss Matthew's head softly, and heading out the door, closing it with a soft click.
Arthur went into the kitchen and found a lumpy, pink frosted cake on the table, the words 'Happy Birthday Arthur!' scrawled on the top, beside 3 small candles. The older nation smiled even more and found himself eating the cake in silence, saying thank you to the two children in his head over and over again.
America tries to get Canada to change his name to 'Canadia' or accidentally keeps calling him that. Whatever else happens besides that is up to anon.
i...really don't know how your request spawned this >_<
"Dude, I can't believe you have to be twenty one to drink at your place, how lame is that, eh?"
America rolled his eyes. "Look, stop whining and just thank God I found someone who does such great fakes on such short notice." He waved the small laminated card in Canada's face, who grabbed it and glared at it like it had personally offended him.
Which it had.
"What the fuck is this 'Canadia Williams' shit, you goof?" he yelled as America cracked up, laughing with all the grace and good humour of a clogged drain.
"Remember when we were little and France forgot to cut your hair and Mexico came over to play, and he thought you were a girl named Canadia? Dude! It really suits you! It's way better than what you're actually called. Canadaaaa. CanaDUH. Your name sounds like it ends with a stupid face. Canadia is much classier."
"Look, just because you and the girl from 'Ugly Betty' have the same name, doesn't mean I want a girl's-"
"Whatever, Canadia. Your driving licence says 'Vancouver'. People will understand."
---
"Canadia?"
"Yeah," muttered Canada darkly.
The bartender beamed.
"I'd save it for a girl myself, but that's a cute name! I've always wanted to go to Canadia."
Canada decided to cry later since Kuma wasn't there to blow his nose on. Instead he decided to take it like a man and ordered another pint of Labatt.
"Hey, where did your friend go?"
---
americafan50: hey u guys i rly like america ferara because she is cute a good actris and she has a rly awesome name like me woo k bye xxx
americaforummod: fckn noob gtfo
----
lol sorry
"Dude, I can't believe you have to be twenty one to drink at your place, how lame is that, eh?"
America rolled his eyes. "Look, stop whining and just thank God I found someone who does such great fakes on such short notice." He waved the small laminated card in Canada's face, who grabbed it and glared at it like it had personally offended him.
Which it had.
"What the fuck is this 'Canadia Williams' shit, you goof?" he yelled as America cracked up, laughing with all the grace and good humour of a clogged drain.
"Remember when we were little and France forgot to cut your hair and Mexico came over to play, and he thought you were a girl named Canadia? Dude! It really suits you! It's way better than what you're actually called. Canadaaaa. CanaDUH. Your name sounds like it ends with a stupid face. Canadia is much classier."
"Look, just because you and the girl from 'Ugly Betty' have the same name, doesn't mean I want a girl's-"
"Whatever, Canadia. Your driving licence says 'Vancouver'. People will understand."
---
"Canadia?"
"Yeah," muttered Canada darkly.
The bartender beamed.
"I'd save it for a girl myself, but that's a cute name! I've always wanted to go to Canadia."
Canada decided to cry later since Kuma wasn't there to blow his nose on. Instead he decided to take it like a man and ordered another pint of Labatt.
"Hey, where did your friend go?"
---
americafan50: hey u guys i rly like america ferara because she is cute a good actris and she has a rly awesome name like me woo k bye xxx
americaforummod: fckn noob gtfo
----
lol sorry
Request: America losing his mind about to commit suidice but someone comes and saves him. That someone becomes America's dearest hero.
If he was supposed to be the land of the free, why did he feel so stifled? No matter where he turned, there were always hostile faces. No matter what he did, there was someone there to shoot him down. And it wasn't as though he hadn't been trying.
Ever since he'd won his independence from England... no, even before that, his entire existence had been one long attempt to prove himself. First to his once-beloved adoptive brother, then to the world, that he could survive. That he could thrive, and prosper and that it was something *anyone* could achieve if they would try. When he finally grew tired of their continued derision and their scorn, when he finally decided to wash his hands of the world, God put it back into his unwilling arms. It was a sign that he was not to turn his back on this world, that he was meant to care for it, to lead it.
He'd taken to task with enthusiasm, but not the way the Old World had chosen to take the world. No, what he wanted was not to rule, but to guide, to share his beautiful vision with the world. He'd wanted to protect everyone, and, for awhile, they wanted his protection.
When did things go wrong? Was it because of Vietnam? Or was he merely wrong in the first place, and only tolerated because he was so strong, because he was the only idiot who would work to protect the interests of other anymore? It seemed that he could no longer do anything right.
If he tried to pull back, they would ask him why he didn't care. If he intervened, they would accuse him of trying to stoke his own ego. If he offered aid, they would eye him warily and whisper that he was only courting popularity. If he tried to impose sanctions, they would complain of discrimination and protectionism. As if they hadn't done every single one of those things before.
He hadn't known back then, when he decided to save the world, that the world could be so heavy to bear.
There were days when he thought that Russia did the right thing by giving up and offering him the rest of the world. After all, that bastard was still happily causing trouble in Europe, unfettered by external interests to protect, while he was here, sitting beside Lady Liberty's crown, feeling the noose of responsibility tightening with every second.
Where were the days when an honest day's work was honestly rewarded? What happened to the time when he could fly freely after his dreams without being shackled by bureaucracy, politics and the relentless judgement from the rest of the world? Couldn't they see he'd been trying? That he'd always been trying and that he was only human, and that it wasn't fair to blame him for everything he'd ever done or chosen not to do? Couldn't they see that he loved this world, perhaps more than any one of them ever did?
It was breaking his heart.
From here, he could see the sky, but it was a bounded sky, not the vast expanse he'd always loved. Even if he tried to fly here...
It would be a long way down, but he would get to see her face. Lady Liberty, whom he loved, whom he'd wanted the world to love, who was looked as though she was crying on his behalf. She might be the only one. Surely, no one in the rest of the world would even care if he jumped. Even if they did, it would be to curse him for leaving them with 'his' problems, as if none of them shared the blame at all.
But at least he wouldn't be around to hear them, huh?
Smiling darkly to himself, America stood up, balancing precariously on Liberty's head. She was taking a step, a step away from oppression, a step toward freedom. And he would take a step from here, a step away from oppression, a step into freedom.
Ever since he'd won his independence from England... no, even before that, his entire existence had been one long attempt to prove himself. First to his once-beloved adoptive brother, then to the world, that he could survive. That he could thrive, and prosper and that it was something *anyone* could achieve if they would try. When he finally grew tired of their continued derision and their scorn, when he finally decided to wash his hands of the world, God put it back into his unwilling arms. It was a sign that he was not to turn his back on this world, that he was meant to care for it, to lead it.
He'd taken to task with enthusiasm, but not the way the Old World had chosen to take the world. No, what he wanted was not to rule, but to guide, to share his beautiful vision with the world. He'd wanted to protect everyone, and, for awhile, they wanted his protection.
When did things go wrong? Was it because of Vietnam? Or was he merely wrong in the first place, and only tolerated because he was so strong, because he was the only idiot who would work to protect the interests of other anymore? It seemed that he could no longer do anything right.
If he tried to pull back, they would ask him why he didn't care. If he intervened, they would accuse him of trying to stoke his own ego. If he offered aid, they would eye him warily and whisper that he was only courting popularity. If he tried to impose sanctions, they would complain of discrimination and protectionism. As if they hadn't done every single one of those things before.
He hadn't known back then, when he decided to save the world, that the world could be so heavy to bear.
There were days when he thought that Russia did the right thing by giving up and offering him the rest of the world. After all, that bastard was still happily causing trouble in Europe, unfettered by external interests to protect, while he was here, sitting beside Lady Liberty's crown, feeling the noose of responsibility tightening with every second.
Where were the days when an honest day's work was honestly rewarded? What happened to the time when he could fly freely after his dreams without being shackled by bureaucracy, politics and the relentless judgement from the rest of the world? Couldn't they see he'd been trying? That he'd always been trying and that he was only human, and that it wasn't fair to blame him for everything he'd ever done or chosen not to do? Couldn't they see that he loved this world, perhaps more than any one of them ever did?
It was breaking his heart.
From here, he could see the sky, but it was a bounded sky, not the vast expanse he'd always loved. Even if he tried to fly here...
It would be a long way down, but he would get to see her face. Lady Liberty, whom he loved, whom he'd wanted the world to love, who was looked as though she was crying on his behalf. She might be the only one. Surely, no one in the rest of the world would even care if he jumped. Even if they did, it would be to curse him for leaving them with 'his' problems, as if none of them shared the blame at all.
But at least he wouldn't be around to hear them, huh?
Smiling darkly to himself, America stood up, balancing precariously on Liberty's head. She was taking a step, a step away from oppression, a step toward freedom. And he would take a step from here, a step away from oppression, a step into freedom.
Italy x Germany
(yes in THAT order!) Bad sex...those two....they must have bad sex when Feli tops....
(Human names please?)
(yes in THAT order!) Bad sex...those two....they must have bad sex when Feli tops....
(Human names please?)
Japan, consensual gangbang.
Multiple partners of your choice, may add various fetishes (probably distinguishing each country).
Multiple partners of your choice, may add various fetishes (probably distinguishing each country).
Hetalia/Project Runway
Can be general ~*~*~*~fashion*~*~*~*~, or have different Hetalia characters stand in for some obvious contestants (I'm thinking of Gilbo as Uli, but use your imagination!). Tim Gunn must remain Tim Gunn. Sweden needs to be one of the designers, as does Russia.
Otherwise, show me your passion for fashion and make me laugh! (if you want to write some smut in here that's fine too!)
Bonus: Ludwig as Heidi Klum
Can be general ~*~*~*~fashion*~*~*~*~, or have different Hetalia characters stand in for some obvious contestants (I'm thinking of Gilbo as Uli, but use your imagination!). Tim Gunn must remain Tim Gunn. Sweden needs to be one of the designers, as does Russia.
Otherwise, show me your passion for fashion and make me laugh! (if you want to write some smut in here that's fine too!)
Bonus: Ludwig as Heidi Klum
Aaah, I’m sorry, I didn’t manage to get Germany as Heidi Klum, as fabulous as that would be! I wish I could’ve gotten more of the nations in, but I’m afraid I ran out of steam.
The first season of Project Runway International is perhaps best summed up by a blogger’s description of "the most fabulous trainwreck currently airing on television."
Italy’s process mostly seems to consist of flitting around the room, pinning scraps of fabric to his dress form and fiddling with them for extended amounts of time before dashing off to the sewing room in the last few hours of work, and fielding angry phone calls from his brother that seem to last hours and hours upon end, usually along the lines of, "No, no, Romano! You don’t understand, chiffon is back! ...No, of course I wouldn’t try a bias cut on this. You’re being very silly about this, Romano. Well, yes, of course the new Ferragamo shoe collection is fabulous!"
When Tim Gunn comes up to him, making a thoughtfully concerned face at the "ah, deconstructed state" of his garment, Italy launches into enthusiastic explanations that involve sweeping gestures and hand motions that illustrate the movement! And the flow! And the passion! And that really don’t seem to make anything much clearer. Any attempts, however, to get him to clarify using "precise measurement, Italy!" usually result in little more than a confused look and more gestures.
Germany is deeply methodical in his approach to all the challenges, sketching out designs like blueprints and hashing out a precise timetable in order to have his garment finished precisely on time. The shopkeepers at Mood seem to have become slightly terrified of his appearances in the fabric store, as his approach to fabric shopping seems to involve the same precision usually used in military campaigns—especially when searching for a particular chartreuse hue of satin.
Unfortunately, some of the more unorthodox challenges seem to be a stumbling block for him, resulting in blustery outbursts such as, "I. I cannot make a proper garment out of cling wrap and tin foil! This is simply ludicrous!" This is usually the point at which Italy sweeps over, rearranging the precise folds of Germany’s garment because, "Germany, it needs more LIFE! More PASSION! Ahhh, Germany, you really need to get that forehead vein looked at, it can’t be healthy."
Hungary’s girly, frilly aesthetic seems almost cloyingly sweet to most viewers, but this is usually countered by her tendency to pair up frilly crinolines with combat boots; however, by general consensus of the rest of the contestants, her workspace is relocated next to Italy early on, as her previous workspace next to Prussia seemed to result in grievous violence with straight pins. Prussia, incidentally, is removed from the show fairly early despite his enthusiastic competitiveness, largely because most of his sewing time seemed to be occupied by sneaking around the workroom to hack pieces off of Austria’s dress.
The first season of Project Runway International is perhaps best summed up by a blogger’s description of "the most fabulous trainwreck currently airing on television."
Italy’s process mostly seems to consist of flitting around the room, pinning scraps of fabric to his dress form and fiddling with them for extended amounts of time before dashing off to the sewing room in the last few hours of work, and fielding angry phone calls from his brother that seem to last hours and hours upon end, usually along the lines of, "No, no, Romano! You don’t understand, chiffon is back! ...No, of course I wouldn’t try a bias cut on this. You’re being very silly about this, Romano. Well, yes, of course the new Ferragamo shoe collection is fabulous!"
When Tim Gunn comes up to him, making a thoughtfully concerned face at the "ah, deconstructed state" of his garment, Italy launches into enthusiastic explanations that involve sweeping gestures and hand motions that illustrate the movement! And the flow! And the passion! And that really don’t seem to make anything much clearer. Any attempts, however, to get him to clarify using "precise measurement, Italy!" usually result in little more than a confused look and more gestures.
Germany is deeply methodical in his approach to all the challenges, sketching out designs like blueprints and hashing out a precise timetable in order to have his garment finished precisely on time. The shopkeepers at Mood seem to have become slightly terrified of his appearances in the fabric store, as his approach to fabric shopping seems to involve the same precision usually used in military campaigns—especially when searching for a particular chartreuse hue of satin.
Unfortunately, some of the more unorthodox challenges seem to be a stumbling block for him, resulting in blustery outbursts such as, "I. I cannot make a proper garment out of cling wrap and tin foil! This is simply ludicrous!" This is usually the point at which Italy sweeps over, rearranging the precise folds of Germany’s garment because, "Germany, it needs more LIFE! More PASSION! Ahhh, Germany, you really need to get that forehead vein looked at, it can’t be healthy."
Hungary’s girly, frilly aesthetic seems almost cloyingly sweet to most viewers, but this is usually countered by her tendency to pair up frilly crinolines with combat boots; however, by general consensus of the rest of the contestants, her workspace is relocated next to Italy early on, as her previous workspace next to Prussia seemed to result in grievous violence with straight pins. Prussia, incidentally, is removed from the show fairly early despite his enthusiastic competitiveness, largely because most of his sewing time seemed to be occupied by sneaking around the workroom to hack pieces off of Austria’s dress.
Make this cute, anons.
Austria/Hungary bizarre marriage proposal.
Austria/Hungary bizarre marriage proposal.
Anon will try to make it as bizarre as possible.
---
Austria was a bit surprised when Hungary demanded to go out to dinner for tonight, but he didn't see any problem in it so he agreed to go. They'd been dating for nearly a year now, so it'd be a good way to celebrate their upcoming anniversary. Though once they arrived there, he found out that Hungary had made reservations ahead of time and had already planned to pay for the meal. He supposed that was fine. She probably didn't want to feel bad for making him pay all the time.
Their dinner went quite well. Hungary told him that money was no object for today so he allowed himself to enjoy the finest cuisine the place had. He realized that if this was her gift, then he'd have to get her something really special for all this. Maybe that diamond necklace he spotted her staring at last week would be nice.
Then as they were waiting for their dessert to arrive, Hungary started to fidget about nervously in her seat. Austria noticed this and grew concerned.
"Are you alright?" He asked her.
"Oh! Of course," she answered with a small blush, "I was just planning on asking you something, but you might get mad if I do."
He smiled sweetly at her and said, "You don't have to worry about that. Ask me whatever you want."
Hungary sighed and suddenly rose up from her seat. She walked over to his side, got down on one knee and pulled out a black box that she opened to reveal a diamond ring.
"Will you marry me?"
The entire restaurant went silent and stared at the couple. It wasn't clear whether it was from shock or curiosity, but either way Austria felt his face go coming red from embarrassment. Something wasn't right here at all. Shouldn't he be the one proposing to her? Well this explained the dinner and her staring into the jewelery store.
"I..." He sighed and accepted this backwards scenario. "Yes."
As Hungary beamed with joy and placed the ring on Austria's finger, he realized that this would be an interesting story to tell his little nations.
---
Hope Anons likes. :3I wanna do this when I fall in love.
---
Austria was a bit surprised when Hungary demanded to go out to dinner for tonight, but he didn't see any problem in it so he agreed to go. They'd been dating for nearly a year now, so it'd be a good way to celebrate their upcoming anniversary. Though once they arrived there, he found out that Hungary had made reservations ahead of time and had already planned to pay for the meal. He supposed that was fine. She probably didn't want to feel bad for making him pay all the time.
Their dinner went quite well. Hungary told him that money was no object for today so he allowed himself to enjoy the finest cuisine the place had. He realized that if this was her gift, then he'd have to get her something really special for all this. Maybe that diamond necklace he spotted her staring at last week would be nice.
Then as they were waiting for their dessert to arrive, Hungary started to fidget about nervously in her seat. Austria noticed this and grew concerned.
"Are you alright?" He asked her.
"Oh! Of course," she answered with a small blush, "I was just planning on asking you something, but you might get mad if I do."
He smiled sweetly at her and said, "You don't have to worry about that. Ask me whatever you want."
Hungary sighed and suddenly rose up from her seat. She walked over to his side, got down on one knee and pulled out a black box that she opened to reveal a diamond ring.
"Will you marry me?"
The entire restaurant went silent and stared at the couple. It wasn't clear whether it was from shock or curiosity, but either way Austria felt his face go coming red from embarrassment. Something wasn't right here at all. Shouldn't he be the one proposing to her? Well this explained the dinner and her staring into the jewelery store.
"I..." He sighed and accepted this backwards scenario. "Yes."
As Hungary beamed with joy and placed the ring on Austria's finger, he realized that this would be an interesting story to tell his little nations.
---
Hope Anons likes. :3
Because anon likes mythology: Greece/Greek god or goddess (because they all liked to screw around... a lot.)
B: If it's Aphrodite, goddess of love, beauty and sex.
B: If it's Aphrodite, goddess of love, beauty and sex.
Naked hikers in Switzerland. Link here. http://www.nytimes.com/2009/03/17/world/europe/17swiss.html?_r=1&scp=1&sq=naked%20hikers%20in%20switzerland&st=cse Other countries meeting Switzerland while naked and hiking. Switzerland/any other countries.
LOLOL I LOVE YOU ANON
Also! http://www.news.com.au/travel/story/0,28318,24995632-5014090,00.html
RELEVANT
Also! http://www.news.com.au/travel/story/0,28318,24995632-5014090,00.html
RELEVANT
Elizabeth I (The Virgin Queen)x England.
Mostly because I've been reading the Royal Diaries and in the epilogue of Elizabeth's, it mentioned how Elizabeth never married because she considered her only husband to be England.
What if that was literal?
Could be fluffy or smutty, but I'd prefer something fluffy. Like, their married life, their first meeting after she became Queen, or something.
You'd make me a happy anon if this was completed. <3
Mostly because I've been reading the Royal Diaries and in the epilogue of Elizabeth's, it mentioned how Elizabeth never married because she considered her only husband to be England.
What if that was literal?
Could be fluffy or smutty, but I'd prefer something fluffy. Like, their married life, their first meeting after she became Queen, or something.
You'd make me a happy anon if this was completed. <3
Oh my god, best thing ever!
SECOND!!
SECOND!!
A fic with Latvia and Sealand on a date would be quite nice- what would be even better would be some post-date sex, but it's not necessary.
Please kind anons? There's never enough of these two together!
Please kind anons? There's never enough of these two together!
Page 21 of 54