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It's sort of fanon that Rome gets smacked down by Mama Greece and Mama Egypt, right? And his pride is all hurt and such.
The reason is because Grecia and Aegyptus are in a very sexy relationship with each other.
So anons, can you show me a scene just after Rome comes a'wooing, and they're talking about it and get a little hot and heavy? I would love you forever!
The reason is because Grecia and Aegyptus are in a very sexy relationship with each other.
So anons, can you show me a scene just after Rome comes a'wooing, and they're talking about it and get a little hot and heavy? I would love you forever!
I saw this article about this Russian chocolate=coated vanilla ice cream that's being complained about as being racist. However, the first thing I thought of is not the fact that it may be racist but rather the line in the heading, and America freaking out.
So, Russia/America, or Russia/Obama+America, using that line in the header with the context not being revealed until the end.
Here's the original article if you want it. http://www.google.com/hostednews/afp/article/ALeqM5hNSfAiqxrZbaRBV6LYbhdQiFNRjg
So, Russia/America, or Russia/Obama+America, using that line in the header with the context not being revealed until the end.
Here's the original article if you want it. http://www.google.com/hostednews/afp/article/ALeqM5hNSfAiqxrZbaRBV6LYbhdQiFNRjg
We generally see happy!oblivious!airhead!Spain, and while I love his cheerful demeanor, I would love to see something different, therefore~
I want to see angsty!lovesick!Spain who hides his feelings behind his smile, with the premise being something along the lines of Antonio always being fairly indifferent to Francis's flirtations with him and the rest of the world, but one day, he stumbles across France and another nation-tan going at it, and realizes that he's in love with the Frenchman.
What happens afterwards is pretty much up in the air, but I would love it if, after an extended period of dodging his emotions and unintentional avoidance, Spain is confronted by France about his behavior, which leads an emotional breakdown.
Hurt/comfort is fabulous, but I don't particularly care if the ending is angsty and tragic or bittersweet and romantic, so it's totally your call anon.
I want to see angsty!lovesick!Spain who hides his feelings behind his smile, with the premise being something along the lines of Antonio always being fairly indifferent to Francis's flirtations with him and the rest of the world, but one day, he stumbles across France and another nation-tan going at it, and realizes that he's in love with the Frenchman.
What happens afterwards is pretty much up in the air, but I would love it if, after an extended period of dodging his emotions and unintentional avoidance, Spain is confronted by France about his behavior, which leads an emotional breakdown.
Hurt/comfort is fabulous, but I don't particularly care if the ending is angsty and tragic or bittersweet and romantic, so it's totally your call anon.
two decades, sixteen years, and three months. -- part o1
(Anonymous) 2009-03-30 03:25 am (UTC)(link)note: i'll post more tomorrow or the day after or something (:
need to finish it up.
Sometime, somewhere, in fields of gold and breath, Francis kisses his cheek. Laughs and blushes this pale red, he remembers, and disappears between those thick fields of gold. But, he’s too taken up in his thoughts, tumbling and colliding into his skull, to notice or make a sound. Or to return that pale hush of a color upon his cheeks. Or smile for that matter.
“I’m busy, Francis. Can this wait?” Antonio used to say, lips thinning out. He would say sometimes, okay, maybe a bit more than sometimes. When he felt those fingers, ghostly white in comparison, dip and trail upon the contours of his skin. Bones and muscle and flesh, leaving behind this little tingling sensation of cold and sweet, sweet warmth in his gut. And the smell of flowers, carnations and snapdragons and bright red roses on the banks of rivers.
“Okay, mon cher. Later.” He left, and crossed the room, shirt halfway undone and practically falling off his slim shoulders. “Always later.” And it was later when they would lay together, Francis asleep on his shoulder and Antonio’s mind faraway. But not faraway enough to forget to put a pillow under that blonde head soon after it began to droop over and soft breaths and shallow compressions of his chest were steady. He left ten seconds after Francis fell asleep, always ten seconds. He had work, other places to go and do. Antonio sat down behind his books and when he left at four thirty-two in the morning, he left the door ajar. Enough light to come back after a couple days. They were both a little younger back then.
And now, he smiles more. More than he used too. He’s given up on Romano, can’t handle having to take care of someone even younger, when he can barely take care of himself. Comes home at night and tells Romano to be good and then he leaves for a drink or something. Sees Francis every night, same bar, different girls. Particularly doesn’t care, waves and they sit for a drink or more. Talk a little, chatter and he doesn’t notice when Francis, with those hands, softly touches another women’s face, rubbing against her cheeks and chin. Doesn’t cringe. Just smiles. “How are you and Arthur?” She looks nice in red, doesn’t mind her sitting his Francis’s lap. Really.
“Just fine, arguments. Won’t talk to me, but when does that matter, oui?” He laughs, heartily, but no one in the bar looks. Francis twirls the stem of his wine glass and looks at the blood-looking liquid inside circle down like a hurricane. Wine is said to be the blood of Christ, they told Antonio that in church once. “You and Romano?”
“Ah, he’s just growing up a little too fast.” Smiles and his stomach churns. Takes another deep sip and feels his throat move.
The woman leaves, little kisses blown at Francis and a wink of grey eyes and a flip of dark autumn leaf hair. It’s nice and curly. “I hear that, we used to be much younger. Back then.” He laughs, sort of tipsy now, rocking back and forth in his chair. And Antonio, sick with laughter, tones it down to a smile, lips curling and teeth showing. “I need to go wash my face, want to come?”
Antonio does.
And they wander past some even drunker couples and groups of seven who are all going to leave vomiting and tripping. They are there every Wednesday night too. Antonio hates the smell of linoleum; it’s too synthetic, fake. He would rather have dirt floors. Listening to the grip of metal and running water, he just stands against the wall for a few seconds, watching. Then, when Francis cups some water in his hand and splashes it against his face, he can see the droplets of water stuck in his eyelashes and too-blue pallor of his eyes. “Hey, Antonio.” There’s a pause and Francis goes to the bathroom door, locks it. “You want to?”
need to finish it up.
Sometime, somewhere, in fields of gold and breath, Francis kisses his cheek. Laughs and blushes this pale red, he remembers, and disappears between those thick fields of gold. But, he’s too taken up in his thoughts, tumbling and colliding into his skull, to notice or make a sound. Or to return that pale hush of a color upon his cheeks. Or smile for that matter.
“I’m busy, Francis. Can this wait?” Antonio used to say, lips thinning out. He would say sometimes, okay, maybe a bit more than sometimes. When he felt those fingers, ghostly white in comparison, dip and trail upon the contours of his skin. Bones and muscle and flesh, leaving behind this little tingling sensation of cold and sweet, sweet warmth in his gut. And the smell of flowers, carnations and snapdragons and bright red roses on the banks of rivers.
“Okay, mon cher. Later.” He left, and crossed the room, shirt halfway undone and practically falling off his slim shoulders. “Always later.” And it was later when they would lay together, Francis asleep on his shoulder and Antonio’s mind faraway. But not faraway enough to forget to put a pillow under that blonde head soon after it began to droop over and soft breaths and shallow compressions of his chest were steady. He left ten seconds after Francis fell asleep, always ten seconds. He had work, other places to go and do. Antonio sat down behind his books and when he left at four thirty-two in the morning, he left the door ajar. Enough light to come back after a couple days. They were both a little younger back then.
And now, he smiles more. More than he used too. He’s given up on Romano, can’t handle having to take care of someone even younger, when he can barely take care of himself. Comes home at night and tells Romano to be good and then he leaves for a drink or something. Sees Francis every night, same bar, different girls. Particularly doesn’t care, waves and they sit for a drink or more. Talk a little, chatter and he doesn’t notice when Francis, with those hands, softly touches another women’s face, rubbing against her cheeks and chin. Doesn’t cringe. Just smiles. “How are you and Arthur?” She looks nice in red, doesn’t mind her sitting his Francis’s lap. Really.
“Just fine, arguments. Won’t talk to me, but when does that matter, oui?” He laughs, heartily, but no one in the bar looks. Francis twirls the stem of his wine glass and looks at the blood-looking liquid inside circle down like a hurricane. Wine is said to be the blood of Christ, they told Antonio that in church once. “You and Romano?”
“Ah, he’s just growing up a little too fast.” Smiles and his stomach churns. Takes another deep sip and feels his throat move.
The woman leaves, little kisses blown at Francis and a wink of grey eyes and a flip of dark autumn leaf hair. It’s nice and curly. “I hear that, we used to be much younger. Back then.” He laughs, sort of tipsy now, rocking back and forth in his chair. And Antonio, sick with laughter, tones it down to a smile, lips curling and teeth showing. “I need to go wash my face, want to come?”
Antonio does.
And they wander past some even drunker couples and groups of seven who are all going to leave vomiting and tripping. They are there every Wednesday night too. Antonio hates the smell of linoleum; it’s too synthetic, fake. He would rather have dirt floors. Listening to the grip of metal and running water, he just stands against the wall for a few seconds, watching. Then, when Francis cups some water in his hand and splashes it against his face, he can see the droplets of water stuck in his eyelashes and too-blue pallor of his eyes. “Hey, Antonio.” There’s a pause and Francis goes to the bathroom door, locks it. “You want to?”
two decades, sixteen years, and three months. -- part o2
(Anonymous) - 2009-03-30 03:26 (UTC) - Expandtwo decades, sixteen years, and three months. -- part o3
(Anonymous) - 2009-03-30 03:31 (UTC) - ExpandRe: two decades, sixteen years, and three months. -- part o3
(Anonymous) - 2009-03-31 03:20 (UTC) - ExpandRe: two decades, sixteen years, and three months. -- part o3
(Anonymous) - 2009-04-01 20:54 (UTC) - Expandtwo decades, sixteen years, and three months. -- part o4
(Anonymous) - 2009-04-04 19:47 (UTC) - Expandtwo decades, sixteen years, and three months. -- part o5
(Anonymous) - 2009-04-07 20:36 (UTC) - ExpandRe: two decades, sixteen years, and three months. -- part o5
(Anonymous) - 2009-04-08 04:36 (UTC) - ExpandRe: two decades, sixteen years, and three months. -- part o5
(Anonymous) - 2009-04-08 05:59 (UTC) - ExpandRe: two decades, sixteen years, and three months. -- part o5
(Anonymous) - 2009-08-09 12:56 (UTC) - ExpandIn that order? I wanna see an extremely defiant Poland having sex with Russia.
1980s.. Poland has been under Moscow's control for 35 years. A large labor union Solidarność, or Solidarity is formed. They gained influence and a large following and began to defy Moscow effectively and eventually won political control from Moscow after being forced underground for 8 years by a crackdown.
Quote from Solidarity -
" ..we will not be compelled to work. Because if people want us to build tanks, we will build street-cars. And trucks will go backward if we build them that way. We know how to beat the system. We are students of that system"
I came across this stuff in one of my books and I couldn't help thinking it would be sexy as hell. Preferably not non-con, but I leave the details in anon's skillful hands.
1980s.. Poland has been under Moscow's control for 35 years. A large labor union Solidarność, or Solidarity is formed. They gained influence and a large following and began to defy Moscow effectively and eventually won political control from Moscow after being forced underground for 8 years by a crackdown.
Quote from Solidarity -
" ..we will not be compelled to work. Because if people want us to build tanks, we will build street-cars. And trucks will go backward if we build them that way. We know how to beat the system. We are students of that system"
I came across this stuff in one of my books and I couldn't help thinking it would be sexy as hell. Preferably not non-con, but I leave the details in anon's skillful hands.
ack, edit...actually, it doesn't have to be strictly physically 'in that order,' maybe just Poland topping from the bottom? actually, that would be pretty awesome.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Spanish-American_war
angstySpain gets his colonies all taken away and goes crazy for a while, with S. Italy seeing it all and being scared. hypocritical!America sets out to kick the smile off of him. Non-con sex between AmericaxSpain is preffered, but also non-con SpainxS.Italy is good~
angstySpain gets his colonies all taken away and goes crazy for a while, with S. Italy seeing it all and being scared. hypocritical!America sets out to kick the smile off of him. Non-con sex between AmericaxSpain is preffered, but also non-con SpainxS.Italy is good~
Any countries/Oregon Trail
If you did not play this wonderful game as a child, you had no childhood.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Oregon_Trail_(computer_game)
If you did not play this wonderful game as a child, you had no childhood.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Oregon_Trail_(computer_game)
awesome!Prussia and snarky!Canada getting drunk in a bar together while just talking smack about other countries.
Can lead to smut or just realization of abeautiful new friendship.
Can lead to smut or just realization of a
:D Part 1 is done! I think it'll be seven parts total including the America/Austria epilogue! Part 2 should be done tonight!
There are two ways that a person can have too much of something. Those two ways have to do with power, and with alcohol. Sometimes their combined splendidly, sometimes they cause someone to crash and burn. Perhaps that's what brought the nations of Prussia and Canada to the same bar, at the same time, with the same drink in their hands. At the moment, all of Prussia's former power, and Canada's technical lack thereof were forgotten and tossed to the side. All that really mattered now, was that they each had a beer in their hands, and a mindset to bitch out anyone who dared try and spoil their mood.
Prussia seemed to be all too preoccupied with telling the people around him about his great historic feats, and his ability to, well...pleasure a woman from across a room. Claimed he had five meters on him. He either aroused a laugh or a grimace out of the people around him. Some found the concept appalling, some found the concept rather...interesting, if you will. Even several men found the concept of five meters on this man to be all too interesting. Prussia took a long, deep gulp from his beer, laughing heartily as his fans for the evening gathered around. Such was an excited and well welcomed experience. Oh how he loved to be alone, but knowing that all these people adored him, well, it was just another bonus edition in the Diary of the Awesome Me. Maybe he'd flourish the entry with a little star to show his enthusiasm.
Canada on the other hand, was the same standard outline he always was. Just sort of hovering in place, the only thing really noticeable about him was the beer in his hands. Several people even stopped and started at the beer that appeared to be set on the bar. One or two even reached to grab the beer, thinking it was free, just to see it move in time to notice Canada was even sitting there, his hand wrapped around the base of the glass beverage. His eyes glanced over to Prussia and his "adoring fans" as he bragged about his accomplishments--and ever some things he had never done and were really achieved by other nations. What a gloating prick. How annoying, the guy really ought to learn to shut his mouth.
"And then I liberated the Netherlands!! Hahaha, how cool is that? Of course it's cool, I did it!"
This caused Canada's nerves to surge, and his heart to stop dead.
"Shut the fuck up, Prussia! You didn't liberate any part of the Netherlands!" Matthew snapped, taking a long drink from his beer. "Don't take credit for shit you never did!" Prussia's fans stopped buzzing as Canada interrupted. "That was me, fuckin' scumbag." he grumbled, leaning back in his bar stool, back resting against the seat of it. "I bet you're goin' t'say that you're the one that bombed Hiroshima too, huh?"
The fans didn't just stop buzzing but they began to disperse as Canada confronted the former empire.
Prussia's expression was flat. Canada had ruined his opportunity to expand his fan base. So, the now East German, slipped from his barstool and slipped into the one next to Canada, his beer almost empty. His hand reached into his pocket and put down a bit of cash on the counter. "Bartender guy thing, get the always fuckin' amazing Prussia another beer. And get America one too, will ya." He smirked, seeing Canada's enraged expression as Prussia deliberately called him America. Ugh, disgusting.
There are two ways that a person can have too much of something. Those two ways have to do with power, and with alcohol. Sometimes their combined splendidly, sometimes they cause someone to crash and burn. Perhaps that's what brought the nations of Prussia and Canada to the same bar, at the same time, with the same drink in their hands. At the moment, all of Prussia's former power, and Canada's technical lack thereof were forgotten and tossed to the side. All that really mattered now, was that they each had a beer in their hands, and a mindset to bitch out anyone who dared try and spoil their mood.
Prussia seemed to be all too preoccupied with telling the people around him about his great historic feats, and his ability to, well...pleasure a woman from across a room. Claimed he had five meters on him. He either aroused a laugh or a grimace out of the people around him. Some found the concept appalling, some found the concept rather...interesting, if you will. Even several men found the concept of five meters on this man to be all too interesting. Prussia took a long, deep gulp from his beer, laughing heartily as his fans for the evening gathered around. Such was an excited and well welcomed experience. Oh how he loved to be alone, but knowing that all these people adored him, well, it was just another bonus edition in the Diary of the Awesome Me. Maybe he'd flourish the entry with a little star to show his enthusiasm.
Canada on the other hand, was the same standard outline he always was. Just sort of hovering in place, the only thing really noticeable about him was the beer in his hands. Several people even stopped and started at the beer that appeared to be set on the bar. One or two even reached to grab the beer, thinking it was free, just to see it move in time to notice Canada was even sitting there, his hand wrapped around the base of the glass beverage. His eyes glanced over to Prussia and his "adoring fans" as he bragged about his accomplishments--and ever some things he had never done and were really achieved by other nations. What a gloating prick. How annoying, the guy really ought to learn to shut his mouth.
"And then I liberated the Netherlands!! Hahaha, how cool is that? Of course it's cool, I did it!"
This caused Canada's nerves to surge, and his heart to stop dead.
"Shut the fuck up, Prussia! You didn't liberate any part of the Netherlands!" Matthew snapped, taking a long drink from his beer. "Don't take credit for shit you never did!" Prussia's fans stopped buzzing as Canada interrupted. "That was me, fuckin' scumbag." he grumbled, leaning back in his bar stool, back resting against the seat of it. "I bet you're goin' t'say that you're the one that bombed Hiroshima too, huh?"
The fans didn't just stop buzzing but they began to disperse as Canada confronted the former empire.
Prussia's expression was flat. Canada had ruined his opportunity to expand his fan base. So, the now East German, slipped from his barstool and slipped into the one next to Canada, his beer almost empty. His hand reached into his pocket and put down a bit of cash on the counter. "Bartender guy thing, get the always fuckin' amazing Prussia another beer. And get America one too, will ya." He smirked, seeing Canada's enraged expression as Prussia deliberately called him America. Ugh, disgusting.
Everything one does reminds the other of France, who's been with both of them before.
Finland/Sweden. Let's have some rough, post-concert smut.
After a heavy metal concert, Finland is all energized and fired up. Naturally, this leads to him screwing the living daylights out of Sweden.
Lots of biting and scratching, please!
After a heavy metal concert, Finland is all energized and fired up. Naturally, this leads to him screwing the living daylights out of Sweden.
Lots of biting and scratching, please!
I was just thinking, are you me?
No, srsly.
Meaning: SECONDING
No, srsly.
Meaning: SECONDING
Please, be nice to one totally depressed Anon and grace them with some sweet to the point of melting Anyone/Poland.
Outdoors, on the grass bathed in the sunlight-- er. Something like that. Just kissing or going all the way, but - sweet, Anon. I know you can do it for me ♥
Outdoors, on the grass bathed in the sunlight-- er. Something like that. Just kissing or going all the way, but - sweet, Anon. I know you can do it for me ♥
[Here, have some drive-by fluff. =p]
The autumn day was bright. They sat on the grassy riverbank and shared a bag of mints while they watched the water flow. The river’s mouth was near, so close to the ocean that the water was mixed with salt. Soon the tide would go out, drawing back the waves from the shore, and the river’s height would recede too. Then they would go walking together along the red Prince Edward Island sand, collecting shells and starfish.
At that moment however all was quiet, the water flowing lazily, not moving with any hurry. A warm breeze rustled the maple and poplar trees lining the riverbank, caught the leaves and sent them gliding like birds into the air before falling slowly to rest upon the water’s surface.
The sound of squeaking cellophane broke the silence. “Aha, last one!” Poland said gleefully. He popped the last Scotchmint into his mouth, then shoved the empty bag into his pocket and snuggled back against Canada’s side, perfectly content and rather pleased with himself.
There was a moment of quiet, then Canada murmured, “You took the last mint.”
“Yep.”
“But... it was the last mint.”
“Mmhmm.” Poland shifted to look up at him, raising an eyebrow. “Like, so what?
They stared each other down. Canada looked as if he was plotting, silently calculating. Poland simply smirked. “Well? Come on, like, I so wi- mmph!” He squeaked as Canada tugged him close and kissed him. Before he could register what exactly had happened, he was released. It slowly occurred to him that the mint was gone.
Poland flushed deeply and eyed Canada, who simply raised an eyebrow.
“What?”
“You stole my mint!”
“And?” Canada clicked it against his teeth and smirked.
Teasing, Poland thought. “I want it back!” He pounced him, kissed him and stole back the candy, but it was stolen from him again in turn. They battled together in that way, continuing even long after the mint was gone. Hugging and kissing, laughing between kisses, and in that moment it seemed there was no one else on earth but the pair of them.
The autumn day was bright. They sat on the grassy riverbank and shared a bag of mints while they watched the water flow. The river’s mouth was near, so close to the ocean that the water was mixed with salt. Soon the tide would go out, drawing back the waves from the shore, and the river’s height would recede too. Then they would go walking together along the red Prince Edward Island sand, collecting shells and starfish.
At that moment however all was quiet, the water flowing lazily, not moving with any hurry. A warm breeze rustled the maple and poplar trees lining the riverbank, caught the leaves and sent them gliding like birds into the air before falling slowly to rest upon the water’s surface.
The sound of squeaking cellophane broke the silence. “Aha, last one!” Poland said gleefully. He popped the last Scotchmint into his mouth, then shoved the empty bag into his pocket and snuggled back against Canada’s side, perfectly content and rather pleased with himself.
There was a moment of quiet, then Canada murmured, “You took the last mint.”
“Yep.”
“But... it was the last mint.”
“Mmhmm.” Poland shifted to look up at him, raising an eyebrow. “Like, so what?
They stared each other down. Canada looked as if he was plotting, silently calculating. Poland simply smirked. “Well? Come on, like, I so wi- mmph!” He squeaked as Canada tugged him close and kissed him. Before he could register what exactly had happened, he was released. It slowly occurred to him that the mint was gone.
Poland flushed deeply and eyed Canada, who simply raised an eyebrow.
“What?”
“You stole my mint!”
“And?” Canada clicked it against his teeth and smirked.
Teasing, Poland thought. “I want it back!” He pounced him, kissed him and stole back the candy, but it was stolen from him again in turn. They battled together in that way, continuing even long after the mint was gone. Hugging and kissing, laughing between kisses, and in that moment it seemed there was no one else on earth but the pair of them.
So I already filled a request, and I thought I could ask Anon a favor in return:
UKxUS WITH A SONIC SCREWDRIVER.
Sorry if it's already been requested.
UKxUS WITH A SONIC SCREWDRIVER.
Sorry if it's already been requested.
Doctor!Alfred gives Arthur a physical. Smexing is approved and encouraged.
http://hetalia-kink.livejournal.com/10456.html?thread=22529240#t22529240
Arthur wakes up to find he's turned 18 during the night. In panic he seeks Alfred for help - unfortunately for him, Alfred finds the now younger fellow fairly attractive.
http://hetalia-kink.livejournal.com/6850.html?thread=9719234#t9719234
Korea and China decide to visit their buddy Canada, pig out on his couch, get sugar high and somehow sexy times (and hilarity) will ensue.
Bonus points if Canada is totally flustered, China gets annoyed at Korea for hogging Canada and when they're done America (Unknowing of the hotness that had just occurred.)unexpectedly walks in.
(America probably broke down Canada's door, because knocking is boring.)
Yeah! Go Comedy!
Bonus points if Canada is totally flustered, China gets annoyed at Korea for hogging Canada and when they're done America (Unknowing of the hotness that had just occurred.)unexpectedly walks in.
(America probably broke down Canada's door, because knocking is boring.)
Yeah! Go Comedy!
Tony/Everybody
UFO sightings around the world!
UFO sightings around the world!
Tony in China
‘Aniki! Aniki! What is that?’ an excited Korea exclaimed, pointing at the peculiar UFO in China’s backyard.
‘Shhhhh! Don’t make that much noise, aru- WHAT, ARU’ China cried, his soul probably left his body at that moment.
‘Fucking chinga.’ Tony said, giving off a sort of creepy air as he walked back into his spacecraft, preparing to leave.
Unfortunately, China was left speechless with an avid groper.
Tony in Russia
Tony shortly left for Russia after landing in China and scaring the hell out of China. He missed Russia’s frontyard and crashed directly into Russia’s house. Emerging from the ashes and smoke, Tony took a look around. There was not much to be in sight apart from scary paintings and a book lying on the corridor.
‘What the fuck. . .’ Tony mumbled, probably very startled by the emptiness of the house, until he heard some mumbling from behind the door. It indeed sounded very painful, so Tony decided to investigate. He creeped down the corridor, and turned the knob of the door. . .
Five minutes later, Tony was running like hell out of Russia’s house, boarding the remains of his spacecraft.
Tony in Latvia and Estonia
‘I’m safe now, I hope. . .’ Tony sighed, flying in his wrecked spacecraft above Latvia and Estonia’s houses, ‘Look, there’s more people there. . .’
Hovering directly above Latvia, Tony decided to descend down and land there. As the spacecraft came closer and closer to Latvia, Latvia shook more and more. When the spacecraft came close enough for Latvia to get a proper look at the alien inside, he just gave out an ear-piercing scream and fainted on the spot. Startled by Latvia’s screaming, Estonia rushed out of his computer to room to go check on Latvia who was in the yard.
‘LATVIAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!’ Estonia screamed, probably scaring Tony away.
‘I think I just scared the crap outta him. . .’ Tony said, steering his space craft away, headed south.
Tony in Poland and Lithuania
‘Lieeeeeet! I like, need to pee!’ Poland complained, running off to the toilet.
‘Okay, that’s fine. . .’ Lithuania said calmly, fed up with Poland’s constant whining.
Tony parked his spacecraft outside Poland’s house, where Poland and Lithuania were. He then rang the doorbell and smashed the nearest window. Lithuania was left completely speechless. Why would someone ring the doorbell and then smash the window to get in, Lithuania thought.
‘I FUCKING NEED THE TOILET!’ Tony cried, running towards the toilet. He kicked down the toilet door, and it almost fell on Poland, lucky it missed him just by an inch.
‘Hey! Like, I was peeing! Do you know like, how to knock?! Seriously!’ Poland exclaimed, going bright red.
Lithuania was watching all this and thought that this little creature looked strangely familiar.
Tony in Prussia and Germany
After happily disturbing Poland and Lithuania, Tony set off for the neighbouring countries. Prussia and Germany, at this time were snaking on some potatoes and wursts. Tony landed his spacecraft ON Germany’s house, causing the roof to collapse in.
‘I have come, you fuckers.’ Tony announced, rising like a phoenix out of the ashes. It’s amazing how his spacecraft is still working after all that.
‘COUGHSPLUTTERAAAAARHKCCK’ Prussia coughed and choked on his potatoes due to Tony’s sudden arrival. Germany, very startled, started pounding his older brother’s back like there was no tomorrow.
‘Nii-san! HANG IN THERE, I’LL LOOK AFTER THAT THING LATER.’ Germany cried, pounding Prussia’s back, only making it worse.
Tony got very, very bored seeing Prussia choking to death and just flew away in his wrecked spacecraft.
---
This is the first time I've ever written a fan fic or anything similar, so please bear with me. . . The next part will be coming shortly!
‘Aniki! Aniki! What is that?’ an excited Korea exclaimed, pointing at the peculiar UFO in China’s backyard.
‘Shhhhh! Don’t make that much noise, aru- WHAT, ARU’ China cried, his soul probably left his body at that moment.
‘Fucking chinga.’ Tony said, giving off a sort of creepy air as he walked back into his spacecraft, preparing to leave.
Unfortunately, China was left speechless with an avid groper.
Tony in Russia
Tony shortly left for Russia after landing in China and scaring the hell out of China. He missed Russia’s frontyard and crashed directly into Russia’s house. Emerging from the ashes and smoke, Tony took a look around. There was not much to be in sight apart from scary paintings and a book lying on the corridor.
‘What the fuck. . .’ Tony mumbled, probably very startled by the emptiness of the house, until he heard some mumbling from behind the door. It indeed sounded very painful, so Tony decided to investigate. He creeped down the corridor, and turned the knob of the door. . .
Five minutes later, Tony was running like hell out of Russia’s house, boarding the remains of his spacecraft.
Tony in Latvia and Estonia
‘I’m safe now, I hope. . .’ Tony sighed, flying in his wrecked spacecraft above Latvia and Estonia’s houses, ‘Look, there’s more people there. . .’
Hovering directly above Latvia, Tony decided to descend down and land there. As the spacecraft came closer and closer to Latvia, Latvia shook more and more. When the spacecraft came close enough for Latvia to get a proper look at the alien inside, he just gave out an ear-piercing scream and fainted on the spot. Startled by Latvia’s screaming, Estonia rushed out of his computer to room to go check on Latvia who was in the yard.
‘LATVIAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!’ Estonia screamed, probably scaring Tony away.
‘I think I just scared the crap outta him. . .’ Tony said, steering his space craft away, headed south.
Tony in Poland and Lithuania
‘Lieeeeeet! I like, need to pee!’ Poland complained, running off to the toilet.
‘Okay, that’s fine. . .’ Lithuania said calmly, fed up with Poland’s constant whining.
Tony parked his spacecraft outside Poland’s house, where Poland and Lithuania were. He then rang the doorbell and smashed the nearest window. Lithuania was left completely speechless. Why would someone ring the doorbell and then smash the window to get in, Lithuania thought.
‘I FUCKING NEED THE TOILET!’ Tony cried, running towards the toilet. He kicked down the toilet door, and it almost fell on Poland, lucky it missed him just by an inch.
‘Hey! Like, I was peeing! Do you know like, how to knock?! Seriously!’ Poland exclaimed, going bright red.
Lithuania was watching all this and thought that this little creature looked strangely familiar.
Tony in Prussia and Germany
After happily disturbing Poland and Lithuania, Tony set off for the neighbouring countries. Prussia and Germany, at this time were snaking on some potatoes and wursts. Tony landed his spacecraft ON Germany’s house, causing the roof to collapse in.
‘I have come, you fuckers.’ Tony announced, rising like a phoenix out of the ashes. It’s amazing how his spacecraft is still working after all that.
‘COUGHSPLUTTERAAAAARHKCCK’ Prussia coughed and choked on his potatoes due to Tony’s sudden arrival. Germany, very startled, started pounding his older brother’s back like there was no tomorrow.
‘Nii-san! HANG IN THERE, I’LL LOOK AFTER THAT THING LATER.’ Germany cried, pounding Prussia’s back, only making it worse.
Tony got very, very bored seeing Prussia choking to death and just flew away in his wrecked spacecraft.
---
This is the first time I've ever written a fan fic or anything similar, so please bear with me. . . The next part will be coming shortly!
Sealand/Latvia; Crack AU. Raivis is a ballet dancer being pushed to his limits by his teacher Ivan; it's really too bad that he's got a crush on that showoff-y new student, Peter.
Prussia waking up in a house he does not remember going to with an insane hangover.
You can do this, anon.
You can do this, anon.
I'm writing this in little pieces at different times, okay? <33
The smell of these sheets was unfamiliar. But yet, it reminded me of my past...But which part of my past? Not the fighting, nah, not any of that...But more of the comforting times of my history. I think their scent reminded me of Fritz...God, that had to be it. The smell was so much like his. So welcoming but so musky. My bed hadn't had this scent in years. I can't remember the last time I could smell Fritz on my sheets...I just remember having woken up one day and his scent was gone. And it would be gone forever. My great king was forever gone and in a sense, as was I. But Fritz was human, and I was a nation. Human beings have their bodies die and decay--god, looking at Katte that day, that was all the proof I needed to know that human beings die and they're so much more fragile than nations. Their bodies can crumble and can be so easily destroyed, crushed and severed, and that head falling from that young man's shoulders still remains fresh in my mind as a reminder of human life. However...as a nation, your body never really dies. Your name just is removed from the map, sometimes you're renamed...But in my case, I don't even know if I was totally renamed. Some say that I'm joined with Ludwig now as East Germany...But...I don't want to believe that I'm just a half. I want to be whole. Will I ever get the chance again?
My head throbs, it's a familiar throb that comes with a hangover. I feel achy, sore...I wonder exactly how much I drank last night...But did I even go out the night before? No, I couldn't have...I remember swearing to myself I was going to have a nice night alone like I used to...and then make up some stories to share with Ludwig in the morning.
I lay there in the unfamiliar bed, my mind hazy as I try to go over the events of the night before...I was home, having a couple beers by myself, just getting buzzed alone...
A knock the door.
--AUSTRIA.
That's who it was. I remember that little twirl of hair, and that violet coat. And those glasses. Yeah, I remember now.
I opened my eyes, and I start to get up, I'm sore, so fucking sore. It's like I've been ass raped with a garden hose or something. Fucking painful--and then I wonder. Did...Did I get laid? Fuck, no way. No fucking way. Not by Austria. He couldn't. He can't even top his ex-wife--though I doubt I could top that woman. She'd probably have me on my knees in seconds and hog tied, with that fuckin' frying pan handle shoved up my ass. SHUT UP FUCKIN' COCK. I DON'T WANT THAT.--fuckin' wimp. I don't know whose bed I'm in, but it's plush and comfortable. It's low to the ground, with a dark, oak frame with floral carving into the headboard. The sheets, comforter and pillows are all of the most pristine white, and the rest of the room is just as dark as the bed frame. This bed, and my body are the brightest thing in this room.
I start to sit up--I freeze, something isn't right.
I'm undressed, and one of my arms is chained to the headboard. I feel the blood rush from my face. I'm suddenly very cold, and I'm wondering just exactly what the hell is going on. There is no way that Austria did this to me--
"Good Morning, Gilbert." I hear that suave, elegant accented voice, and my head jerks. In the doorway, dressed as properly as ever is the Austrian bastard, standing there, poised, polite and with this look of...god, I don't know how to describe it.
But his expression reminds me of Russia. It's terrifying almost.
"Did you sleep well?" he asks, calmly, approaching the bed, his coat drifting with a slight swish as his boots thump against the floor. His arm flows out from his side, and a leather-gloved hand runs along the footboard of the bed, his expression blank, as if he's deep in thought. But, no, Austria's not deep in thought. Not in the slightest. His blankness is foreboding
"Roderich, what the hell am I doing here?" I ask sharply, ignoring his question all together.
Austria smiles, his head lifting as to view me directly in the eye.
"I've had enough of your smart aleck cockiness, Gilbert." he echoes, those words drifting in the air. "I feel it's time you learned your place."
And as he says these words...I no longer smell Fritz.
The smell of these sheets was unfamiliar. But yet, it reminded me of my past...But which part of my past? Not the fighting, nah, not any of that...But more of the comforting times of my history. I think their scent reminded me of Fritz...God, that had to be it. The smell was so much like his. So welcoming but so musky. My bed hadn't had this scent in years. I can't remember the last time I could smell Fritz on my sheets...I just remember having woken up one day and his scent was gone. And it would be gone forever. My great king was forever gone and in a sense, as was I. But Fritz was human, and I was a nation. Human beings have their bodies die and decay--god, looking at Katte that day, that was all the proof I needed to know that human beings die and they're so much more fragile than nations. Their bodies can crumble and can be so easily destroyed, crushed and severed, and that head falling from that young man's shoulders still remains fresh in my mind as a reminder of human life. However...as a nation, your body never really dies. Your name just is removed from the map, sometimes you're renamed...But in my case, I don't even know if I was totally renamed. Some say that I'm joined with Ludwig now as East Germany...But...I don't want to believe that I'm just a half. I want to be whole. Will I ever get the chance again?
My head throbs, it's a familiar throb that comes with a hangover. I feel achy, sore...I wonder exactly how much I drank last night...But did I even go out the night before? No, I couldn't have...I remember swearing to myself I was going to have a nice night alone like I used to...and then make up some stories to share with Ludwig in the morning.
I lay there in the unfamiliar bed, my mind hazy as I try to go over the events of the night before...I was home, having a couple beers by myself, just getting buzzed alone...
A knock the door.
--AUSTRIA.
That's who it was. I remember that little twirl of hair, and that violet coat. And those glasses. Yeah, I remember now.
I opened my eyes, and I start to get up, I'm sore, so fucking sore. It's like I've been ass raped with a garden hose or something. Fucking painful--and then I wonder. Did...Did I get laid? Fuck, no way. No fucking way. Not by Austria. He couldn't. He can't even top his ex-wife--though I doubt I could top that woman. She'd probably have me on my knees in seconds and hog tied, with that fuckin' frying pan handle shoved up my ass. SHUT UP FUCKIN' COCK. I DON'T WANT THAT.--fuckin' wimp. I don't know whose bed I'm in, but it's plush and comfortable. It's low to the ground, with a dark, oak frame with floral carving into the headboard. The sheets, comforter and pillows are all of the most pristine white, and the rest of the room is just as dark as the bed frame. This bed, and my body are the brightest thing in this room.
I start to sit up--I freeze, something isn't right.
I'm undressed, and one of my arms is chained to the headboard. I feel the blood rush from my face. I'm suddenly very cold, and I'm wondering just exactly what the hell is going on. There is no way that Austria did this to me--
"Good Morning, Gilbert." I hear that suave, elegant accented voice, and my head jerks. In the doorway, dressed as properly as ever is the Austrian bastard, standing there, poised, polite and with this look of...god, I don't know how to describe it.
But his expression reminds me of Russia. It's terrifying almost.
"Did you sleep well?" he asks, calmly, approaching the bed, his coat drifting with a slight swish as his boots thump against the floor. His arm flows out from his side, and a leather-gloved hand runs along the footboard of the bed, his expression blank, as if he's deep in thought. But, no, Austria's not deep in thought. Not in the slightest. His blankness is foreboding
"Roderich, what the hell am I doing here?" I ask sharply, ignoring his question all together.
Austria smiles, his head lifting as to view me directly in the eye.
"I've had enough of your smart aleck cockiness, Gilbert." he echoes, those words drifting in the air. "I feel it's time you learned your place."
And as he says these words...I no longer smell Fritz.
US/UK.
Emotional Airport reunion.
OP is just back from holiday.
Can be passionate, smutty, fluffy, slight angst? No sad endings. I've had e-freaking-nough of US/UK fics making me sit and cry. I ship because it makes me happy, not so it can make me sad!!!
I trust you, Anons. Run with it.
RUN WITH IT, I SAY.
Bonus Points: Dropping luggage and running to embrace. CLICHE YEEAAAH
Emotional Airport reunion.
OP is just back from holiday.
Can be passionate, smutty, fluffy, slight angst? No sad endings. I've had e-freaking-nough of US/UK fics making me sit and cry. I ship because it makes me happy, not so it can make me sad!!!
I trust you, Anons. Run with it.
RUN WITH IT, I SAY.
Bonus Points: Dropping luggage and running to embrace. CLICHE YEEAAAH
Same volunteernon as above. (: I went with something just cute and happy, ala Love Actually like I said, because fluff with a touch of angst is my specialty. I hope it pleases OPnon!
Whenever I get gloomy with the state of the world, I think about the arrivals gate at Heathrow airport.
Arthur Kirkland tapped his foot impatiently, eyes glancing from the arrivals announcements to the gate. There were people coming through, with travel-worn expressions and blindly hopeful eyes, looking into the throng for someone, anyone, who loved them, who knew they existed. He watched fathers being reunited with children, watched children being reunited with tearful parents. And he smiled faintly, because he was surrounded by so much warmth and love and affection, because there was so much hope and good feeling grounded in this place, this place in his land, that he had to smile. Those around him probably assumed he was waiting for someone.
Well, that was true. He was, in a way. But another glance at the arrivals board told him that the flight he was waiting for had been delayed another hour. He was waiting for someone, yes, but he was here hours too early. This place, Heathrow Airport, this was a place where he felt safe, where he felt almost invincible. It always lifted his spirits. He could feel the bitterness of the tear-filled goodbyes when he passed the departures gate without even watching families bid their loved ones goodbye. He didn’t have the ability to read the thoughts of his people, and he thought he would go insane if he did, but he could feel as they did, because they did.
He wasn’t sure how much of him was comprised of his people, or how much of his people were composed of him, really. They were one in the same, two parts of one beautiful Nation. They ached together, cried together, hoped together, dreamed together, and rejoiced together. They fought together, they lived together, and they loved together. That was why Arthur absolutely loved the arrivals gate at Heathrow, where he could look at his people and see their tears of joy, where he could watch young ladies take running leaps into the arms of their beloveds, children running into their parents’ open arms.
And he ached for those who didn’t have anyone to greet them, smiled warmly at them when his eyes found their crestfallen gaze in the crowd. Because he loved his people, and by the way that everyone seemed comforted when he met their gaze, they knew somehow who he was and they knew that their country, at least, was there with open arms. Some, even, he did meet that way (though that was mostly members of the military, because it was absolutely heartbreaking when his country’s best and bravest had no one to come home to). It thrilled him to the core to stand there with his arms open, even though his face burned scarlet, his invitation as good as a ‘Free Hugs’ sign emblazoned across his shirtfront.
And when the lonely, weary travelers saw their country with his arms open just for them, no matter who they were: old, young, men, women, they dropped everything and ran; and by the time they leapt into Arthur’s arms both of them were in tears.
Yes, that was why Arthur loved the arrivals gate at Heathrow Airport.
Whenever I get gloomy with the state of the world, I think about the arrivals gate at Heathrow airport.
Arthur Kirkland tapped his foot impatiently, eyes glancing from the arrivals announcements to the gate. There were people coming through, with travel-worn expressions and blindly hopeful eyes, looking into the throng for someone, anyone, who loved them, who knew they existed. He watched fathers being reunited with children, watched children being reunited with tearful parents. And he smiled faintly, because he was surrounded by so much warmth and love and affection, because there was so much hope and good feeling grounded in this place, this place in his land, that he had to smile. Those around him probably assumed he was waiting for someone.
Well, that was true. He was, in a way. But another glance at the arrivals board told him that the flight he was waiting for had been delayed another hour. He was waiting for someone, yes, but he was here hours too early. This place, Heathrow Airport, this was a place where he felt safe, where he felt almost invincible. It always lifted his spirits. He could feel the bitterness of the tear-filled goodbyes when he passed the departures gate without even watching families bid their loved ones goodbye. He didn’t have the ability to read the thoughts of his people, and he thought he would go insane if he did, but he could feel as they did, because they did.
He wasn’t sure how much of him was comprised of his people, or how much of his people were composed of him, really. They were one in the same, two parts of one beautiful Nation. They ached together, cried together, hoped together, dreamed together, and rejoiced together. They fought together, they lived together, and they loved together. That was why Arthur absolutely loved the arrivals gate at Heathrow, where he could look at his people and see their tears of joy, where he could watch young ladies take running leaps into the arms of their beloveds, children running into their parents’ open arms.
And he ached for those who didn’t have anyone to greet them, smiled warmly at them when his eyes found their crestfallen gaze in the crowd. Because he loved his people, and by the way that everyone seemed comforted when he met their gaze, they knew somehow who he was and they knew that their country, at least, was there with open arms. Some, even, he did meet that way (though that was mostly members of the military, because it was absolutely heartbreaking when his country’s best and bravest had no one to come home to). It thrilled him to the core to stand there with his arms open, even though his face burned scarlet, his invitation as good as a ‘Free Hugs’ sign emblazoned across his shirtfront.
And when the lonely, weary travelers saw their country with his arms open just for them, no matter who they were: old, young, men, women, they dropped everything and ran; and by the time they leapt into Arthur’s arms both of them were in tears.
Yes, that was why Arthur loved the arrivals gate at Heathrow Airport.
Poland/Lithuania: Poland's crossdressing is his way to get Liet's attention, so that Liet would love him back. And he succeeds eventually. Yes, a happy ending is a must ;_;
And anon'd really prefer if it was serious, not a crack-fic. Sorry for being so specific ;;;;;;
And anon'd really prefer if it was serious, not a crack-fic. Sorry for being so specific ;;;;;;
This anon would love to read some America/Belarus. Oh yes. Maybe something along the lines of America trying to cure her of her creepy but failing in an adorable sort of way.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Belarus%E2%80%93United_States_relations
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Belarus_Democracy_Act_of_2004
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Belarus%E2%80%93United_States_relations
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Belarus_Democracy_Act_of_2004
Seriously, anon, are you me? I just came over to the meme to request this.
http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20090328/ap_on_go_pr_wh/obama_foreign_trip
"The president and America are going to listen in London as well as to lead," White House spokesman Robert Gibbs said.
http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20090328/ap_on_re_eu/eu_g20_protests
One man dressed in a banana suit waved a sign reading: "Bananas for Justice."
So. England and America having phone sex in anticipation of what they're going to do when they meet up at England's house for the G20 meeting next week. There must be mention of banana suit wearing protester. XD
"The president and America are going to listen in London as well as to lead," White House spokesman Robert Gibbs said.
http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20090328/ap_on_re_eu/eu_g20_protests
One man dressed in a banana suit waved a sign reading: "Bananas for Justice."
So. England and America having phone sex in anticipation of what they're going to do when they meet up at England's house for the G20 meeting next week. There must be mention of banana suit wearing protester. XD
I am obsessed with Venciano's character song. I love Romano's too but it's just the Northern's one that seems to keep playing on repeat for me XD And now, thanks to that song, all I can see is N! Italy prancing all sexy in the kitchen and toying with Alfredo sauce and stuff. SO!
I need Italiacest, established relationship, Romano topping HARD.
Kink: Cooking dinner together.
Romano gets very turned by the way his brotherhandles tomatoes cooks and acts in the kitchen, and takes him over a counter in a fit of sexual frustration. Rough, desperate but loving sex.
Purdy please?
I need Italiacest, established relationship, Romano topping HARD.
Kink: Cooking dinner together.
Romano gets very turned by the way his brother
Purdy please?
I hope I didn't fail you anon! I wanted this to be cute but it turned out more desperate than cute and I really, really, really hope I didn't fail you.
--------------------------------------------------------------
“Onii-saan~”
Lovino turned his head and saw his younger brother running at him with a great speed. Quite honestly, the sight of his brother running to him rather than that potato-bastard made Lovino all the happier. Feliciano stopped short of his brother, and suddenly reached for his brother’s hand and gave it a light squeeze.
“Wh-what the hell do you think you’re doing you—“
Feliciano cut off his brother by placing Lovino’s hand upon his stomach and used his hand to make Lovino rub his stomach.
“I-I said what the hell—“
The smaller Italian looked up at his brother with a child-like expression.
"Hey, this feeling inside me... you'll listen to me, won't you, because Ludwig sure didn’t want to,” Feliciano tightened his grip on Lovino’s hand, “To my huge... HUGE love...” he drew in closer dropping his brother’s hand lower. He paused right before his belt and Lovino could only watch as he anticipated the next few words.
“FOR PASTA!"
Not expecting those words exactly, Lovino dropped his head in what seemed like disappointment as his brother began to drag him into the kitchen. Because he loved his brother enough (not to mention the fact that there was no potato-bastard with him for once) Lovino’s feet reluctantly followed that of the Feliciano’s.
On the way to the kitchen, he could here his brother singing “I love pasta, you see! Can't you understand what I'm saying? But I want to say it over and over, just because I really love it! The world is made of precious flour and water! When I gaze up to the empty sky, I see lightly floating macaroni…” and was brought to a stop once Feliciano began to remove his blue uniform.
“Wha-what the hell do you think you’re doing you dumb ass!!?”
“Well, nii-chan, I don’t want my military uniform to get dirty,” a few buttons were undone and he made his way through his belt, “so I decided that I shouldn’t cook with it!” Feliciano began to dress an apron on himself, having a hard time tying the back of it.
Lovino couldn’t help but think it was cute the way his brother was trying so hard so he went behind his brother and grasped both ends of the apron and began to tie a bow.
“Ah-ah, thanks nii-chan.”
“Yeah, yeah, just don’t wear this around that potato-bastard.”
There was a slight pause from Feliciano but he quickly changed the subject.
“But nii-chan, aren’t you going to change into an apron too?”
“Hell, why should I—“
“Why not? I’ve seen you wear it around Spain-nii when you cook for him.”
“When the hell did you—“
“Why can’t you wear it to make pasta with me?”
--------------------------------------------------------------
“Onii-saan~”
Lovino turned his head and saw his younger brother running at him with a great speed. Quite honestly, the sight of his brother running to him rather than that potato-bastard made Lovino all the happier. Feliciano stopped short of his brother, and suddenly reached for his brother’s hand and gave it a light squeeze.
“Wh-what the hell do you think you’re doing you—“
Feliciano cut off his brother by placing Lovino’s hand upon his stomach and used his hand to make Lovino rub his stomach.
“I-I said what the hell—“
The smaller Italian looked up at his brother with a child-like expression.
"Hey, this feeling inside me... you'll listen to me, won't you, because Ludwig sure didn’t want to,” Feliciano tightened his grip on Lovino’s hand, “To my huge... HUGE love...” he drew in closer dropping his brother’s hand lower. He paused right before his belt and Lovino could only watch as he anticipated the next few words.
“FOR PASTA!"
Not expecting those words exactly, Lovino dropped his head in what seemed like disappointment as his brother began to drag him into the kitchen. Because he loved his brother enough (not to mention the fact that there was no potato-bastard with him for once) Lovino’s feet reluctantly followed that of the Feliciano’s.
On the way to the kitchen, he could here his brother singing “I love pasta, you see! Can't you understand what I'm saying? But I want to say it over and over, just because I really love it! The world is made of precious flour and water! When I gaze up to the empty sky, I see lightly floating macaroni…” and was brought to a stop once Feliciano began to remove his blue uniform.
“Wha-what the hell do you think you’re doing you dumb ass!!?”
“Well, nii-chan, I don’t want my military uniform to get dirty,” a few buttons were undone and he made his way through his belt, “so I decided that I shouldn’t cook with it!” Feliciano began to dress an apron on himself, having a hard time tying the back of it.
Lovino couldn’t help but think it was cute the way his brother was trying so hard so he went behind his brother and grasped both ends of the apron and began to tie a bow.
“Ah-ah, thanks nii-chan.”
“Yeah, yeah, just don’t wear this around that potato-bastard.”
There was a slight pause from Feliciano but he quickly changed the subject.
“But nii-chan, aren’t you going to change into an apron too?”
“Hell, why should I—“
“Why not? I’ve seen you wear it around Spain-nii when you cook for him.”
“When the hell did you—“
“Why can’t you wear it to make pasta with me?”
I want some hate sex, anons!
Both fighting for top.
Human names preferred.
Both fighting for top.
Human names preferred.
Anon is requesting a crossover, between Petshop of Horror and Hetalia!
Where did Canada get his talking bear? The only possible explaination: Count D's pet shop!!
Where did Canada get his talking bear? The only possible explaination: Count D's pet shop!!
It was pretty cold and pretty quiet up north, and perhaps his brother was worried that he'd become like some certain other country that was cold, big and northerly, but whatever the reason, he received an invitation to go visit his brother in LA.
When he got there, he was slightly surprised to see that America had a rather sullen China in tow, but America promised that it was supposed to be an uber special surprise.
"He's going to buy you a pet," said China flatly before getting jumped by a flailing America who was whining about how he spoiled the surprise.
"But, America, you know they don't last long." Compared to the lifespan of a nation (barring major disasters, of course), most living things just died too quickly and he didn't like the idea of keeping something just to watch it die. Watching them go about their own lives was fine, and sometimes even heartwarming, but mortal things weren't meant to live in close proximity with the anthropomorphic personifications of their nations. It would be too depressing.
"Ahah! But you see, this is a special petshop! It's in Chinatown."
Canada shook his head and opened his mouth to tell him that he had Chinatowns too, but then he caught the look on China's face. The Asian was staring off into space, preoccupied by what appeared to be distinctly unhappy thoughts. Was it because he was being dragged along into one of America's harebrained schemes? Or was it because he was annoyed that America couldn't even navigate Chinatown without his help? But no, the irritation didn't seem to be directed at his exhuberent brother. For the moment, anyway, because America seemed to be trying his best to change that.
"Go on, tell him! The petshop fellow came from China, right? So you can tell him!"
China merely pressed his mouth a little more firmly shut and walked on more quickly.
It was intriguing, if a little worrying, but he didn't have time to pursue that thought before America turned his attentions to him again.
"So, what kind of pet do you want?"
Seeing the bright and brilliant smile on his brother's face, Canada gave in. After all, just because they were going to look at pets, it didn't mean he had to pick one out in the end, no matter how insistent America was no doubt going to be. And having a companion would be nice, especially during winter, when he was snowed in. Something that would recognise him as 'Canada' instead of being mistaken for America or worse, completely forgotten.
"A dog, maybe," he mused aloud. "A big dog."
"Better to raise for emergency rations," agreed China over his shoulder.
"AHAHAHAHAHA, that's a good one, China!"
But from the coldness in his voice, Canada wasn't so sure China was making a joke. The Asian's behaviour was really beginning to worry him, but once again, he wasn't given the chance to ponder this before America was demanding attention again.
"Here! We're here!"
The sign outside said 'Count D', yet the decor was very Chinese. There was a flight of stairs leading down into relative darkness and he could hardly believe that this was meant to be a pet shop. Beside him, he heard China sigh.
"Let's go in then."
When he got there, he was slightly surprised to see that America had a rather sullen China in tow, but America promised that it was supposed to be an uber special surprise.
"He's going to buy you a pet," said China flatly before getting jumped by a flailing America who was whining about how he spoiled the surprise.
"But, America, you know they don't last long." Compared to the lifespan of a nation (barring major disasters, of course), most living things just died too quickly and he didn't like the idea of keeping something just to watch it die. Watching them go about their own lives was fine, and sometimes even heartwarming, but mortal things weren't meant to live in close proximity with the anthropomorphic personifications of their nations. It would be too depressing.
"Ahah! But you see, this is a special petshop! It's in Chinatown."
Canada shook his head and opened his mouth to tell him that he had Chinatowns too, but then he caught the look on China's face. The Asian was staring off into space, preoccupied by what appeared to be distinctly unhappy thoughts. Was it because he was being dragged along into one of America's harebrained schemes? Or was it because he was annoyed that America couldn't even navigate Chinatown without his help? But no, the irritation didn't seem to be directed at his exhuberent brother. For the moment, anyway, because America seemed to be trying his best to change that.
"Go on, tell him! The petshop fellow came from China, right? So you can tell him!"
China merely pressed his mouth a little more firmly shut and walked on more quickly.
It was intriguing, if a little worrying, but he didn't have time to pursue that thought before America turned his attentions to him again.
"So, what kind of pet do you want?"
Seeing the bright and brilliant smile on his brother's face, Canada gave in. After all, just because they were going to look at pets, it didn't mean he had to pick one out in the end, no matter how insistent America was no doubt going to be. And having a companion would be nice, especially during winter, when he was snowed in. Something that would recognise him as 'Canada' instead of being mistaken for America or worse, completely forgotten.
"A dog, maybe," he mused aloud. "A big dog."
"Better to raise for emergency rations," agreed China over his shoulder.
"AHAHAHAHAHA, that's a good one, China!"
But from the coldness in his voice, Canada wasn't so sure China was making a joke. The Asian's behaviour was really beginning to worry him, but once again, he wasn't given the chance to ponder this before America was demanding attention again.
"Here! We're here!"
The sign outside said 'Count D', yet the decor was very Chinese. There was a flight of stairs leading down into relative darkness and he could hardly believe that this was meant to be a pet shop. Beside him, he heard China sigh.
"Let's go in then."
America/Romano
Romano's beloved tomatoes came from America. He's never properly thanked him.
B: If Romano pours ketchup on America and licks it off.
Romano's beloved tomatoes came from America. He's never properly thanked him.
B: If Romano pours ketchup on America and licks it off.
Seconding 'cause we need more Romano stuff in general, especially stuff outside Spain/Romano :B
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