Hetalia kink meme ([personal profile] hetalia_kink) wrote2011-02-26 01:31 pm

Part 6!

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part 6


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Two and a Half Men parody?

(Anonymous) 2009-08-01 08:22 am (UTC)(link)
You know who Feliciano reminds me of? Candy. Candy from Two and a Half Men.
I want Ludwig to be Allen, Gilbert to be Charlie, and of course, Feliciano to be Candy. If other characters are involved, writer!anon can decided who they are.
I want humor and smut, if possible.

I'll greatly appreciate it if this gets filled! (:

Ludwig, Feliciano, Lovino.

(Anonymous) 2009-08-01 08:37 am (UTC)(link)
Ludwig walks in on Lovino and Feliciano having sex, and is angry at Feliciano for cheating on him with his brother. He begins to explain to Ludwig that it was Lovino who had started it and that he "forced" him, not mentioning that it was not their first time to do it while they were dating. Then, even though he continuously rants on about how much he hates the german, a turned-on Lovino tells Ludwig to join them. And against all odds, he does.

Didn't See That One Coming 1/?

(Anonymous) 2009-08-03 07:04 am (UTC)(link)
Ludwig was a man of principle, a country of morals- at least, he liked to imagine that. It was hard enough dating the bouncy Italian he’d adopted as an eternal nuisance; but it was even harder letting go of every wall of propriety he still had intact, any sense of decency within him, to be able to just kiss the man when he walked him to his door after a night full of “Ve Ludwig~” and playful, one-sided, banter. And honestly, he probably would have never made a move it if hadn’t been for his brother prompting him through lecherous glances and suggestive movements of his hips whenever Feliciano’s back was turned.

“Ludwig,” Feliciano whined when the hands on the clock struck 11, “the night’s only beginning! Come to my house, we can have some wine Francis gave me at the summit!”

Behind the bouncing man, Gilbert cocked an eyebrow, and that ridiculous smirk spread a few more inches across his face. Ludwig shook his head, for both men’s benefit.

“Feliciano, it’s late. Maybe tomorrow at a more appropriate time,” he suggested. And then, in an afterthought, “and maybe we could drink something else. I don’t trust anything coming from Francis.”

The German watched as Feliciano’s shoulders slumped, defeat clear on his face, and for a moment, his resistance almost crumbled at the sight of that jutted lip. It was pitiful of him, even pathetic, but part of him raged against his will to collect the man in his arms, run a thumb over the perturbed lip, and calm his ally’s ease with a kiss. He looked to Gilbert, whose eyebrows were waggling, and hand motioning for him to go with him, and his will crushed those thoughts into dust.

“Ve, but Ludwig, we have a conference tomorrow,” Feliciano murmured.

“Yes, but it will only be until three, then we have the whole evening,” Ludwig reminded him.

Feliciano suddenly looked determined, crossing his arms and looking Ludwig in the eyes. Ludwig swallowed back against the sudden unease collecting in his throat and preventing air from flowing into his lungs. He knew this look; he’d seen it once when England mentioned fish and chips being a more delicious and well rounded dish than pasta. The hell that had ensued was astonishing, if not amazing.

“Ludwig! You know the meeting is going to run late! It always does! America is going to go on and on about how great he is and how his plan is awesome, and England is going to argue with him, as usual!” Feliciano threw in some hand gestures, for his benefit, imitating a bomb going off. “Then France is going to argue with England until it stops being about the economy, but how he’s going to get into his bed! Then Spain is going to start pestering Lovino, and he’s going to be in a horrible mood, and I’m going to have to sit through it and get no dinner and keep listening to that creepy ghost that’s haunting the room! And then you’ll freak out, and then we’ll end up staying till 8 to make up lost time, and you won’t be in the mood!”

Ludwig was wide eyed, and for a moment, the room was in complete silence. That is, until Gilbert broke down laughing.

“Whew, West, you’ve got a feisty one!” he barked in between laughing fits, “he’s fiery! I like it!”

“Grazie,” Feliciano muttered. “So will you come with me? Please?”

Any fire that had been in his voice and raging in his eyes had subsided to a low simmer, an irresistible warmth that Ludwig was having trouble resisting. It shone in the Italian’s eyes, soft and earthy like oak, and in his pleading face, and for a moment, Ludwig was practically consumed. How could he deny him anything? If all he wanted was to drink some wine, why not? It wouldn’t hurt him. But his pride got in the way, and his fear of what would follow crippled him from taking that next step, held him back from what would surely follow.

“Tomorrow,” he sighed.

Didn't See That One Coming 2/?

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Didn't See That One Coming 3/?

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Didn't See That One Coming 4/?

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OP here.

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Didn't See That One Coming 5/?

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Re: OP

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Didn't See That One Coming 6/?

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Re: OP

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(Anonymous) - 2009-08-11 05:16 (UTC) - Expand

other anon has totally been in your position.

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America/England, Cash Cab

(Anonymous) 2009-08-01 08:46 am (UTC)(link)
Apologies if this has been requested before (I really hope it hasn't). Would like to see them on the American version of Cash Cab.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cash_Cab_(U.S._game_show) (Another occassion of the US taking something British and Americanizing it, but shhh)

Bonus one: America loses.

Bonus two: America gets really touchy-feely.

Bonus three: England is stinking drunk.

Bonus four: I will love you forever if you can combine the first three. XD

Go forth, anons!

Welcome to the Cash Cab, Where We Win and You Lose [1/?]

(Anonymous) 2009-08-02 05:59 pm (UTC)(link)


Alfred sighed as walked in the poorly lit New York City street. Usually he wouldn't mind the walk back to his place, since he was used to all the walking he had to do to get around, but he did not want to carry his drunken companion any longer then he needed to. Alfred made sure to make a mental note for himself to never take Arthur to drink after a world conference meeting ever again, or at least when they were so far away from his place or Arthur's hotel room.

Alfred momentarily stopped and turned around to see if any free cabs were heading his way. Unfortunately he could only watch as taken taxis drove by. Every time he heard a car approaching in the distance, Alfred would turn around, just to be disappointed.

One cab went by. Two. Three. Four. Five. After a while Alfred stopped counting and gave up with his cab hunt. It was a late Friday night; of course everyone else would be riding a cab.

After about ten minutes, Alfred heard another approaching car. He tiredly looked back to see his luck finally changed and it was a free taxi. He stopped and put his hand out, when the taxi got close he stopped and pulled over and Alfred opened the door.

Alfred made sure to put the smaller nation in the seat closer first and then climbed over him to the other side. When Alfred was settled in the cabby asked in a very deep low voice how he was. Alfred couldn't put his finger on it, but his voice seemed familiar.

"Good… well you know, aside from my drunk friend here," Alfred joked. "But I need to get to 82nd and Park Ave."

The next thing Alfred knew a buzzing noise was going off and lights were flashing throughout the cab.

This isn't-

"This is Cash Cab After Dark," Alfred hears, he lifts his head up to see his taxi driver is Ben Bailey.

It is.

"What's going on?" Arthur said groggily.

Arthur getting up was only going to make things more difficult, Alfred was going to have to think of answers while controlling his very drunk companion, which is easier said then done since Arthur is known to do some pretty stupid things when drunk. But at least Alfred knew why the voice sounded familiar. Alfred would watch Cash Cab quite a bit when he was just relaxing at home.

"Cash Cab is a TV game show that takes place right here in my in my taxi," Ben explained. "So do you want to play?"

Alfred thought about it for a moment. "Well, what do I have to loose? Let's do this."

All Alfred had to do was manage not to answer three questions wrong and (what Alfred believed to be the harder challenge) prevent Arthur from making a complete fool of himself. Alfred knew that if Arthur were to act like a complete idiot on national television, and found out later (when sober) that he did absolutely nothing to stop him, Arthur would surely have his head.



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Re: America/England, Cash Cab

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(Anonymous) 2009-08-01 08:48 am (UTC)(link)
Japanese speaking anon came to an interesting realisation today-

Quite obviously, Japanese does have its own word for 'masturbate. However, the most commonly used word for 'jerking off' is オナニー, pronounced Onanii.

At school, I study German, and well, my friends and I looked up masturbate (as you do ^^) in a dictionary.


i.e. Japanese uses the German word for masturbate.

Now I really, really want a detailed explanation of how Germany taught Kiku the word. Please.

This pairing really needs more love guys.


(Anonymous) 2009-08-01 10:41 am (UTC)(link)
Japan bit his lip as he trailed his fingers up and down, teasing himself with a light, slow touch. He had slipped away from the others shortly after Italy began to snore, but he wasn't that far away and he didn't know how little noise it might take to wake Germany up. He swiped his thumb over the head of his prick, shivering despite the island's balmy weather at the thrill that ran up his spine.

He wondered what it would be like to feel Germany's hands on him instead of his own, those large, square hands with the faint glint of golden hair just dusting his knuckles. Soldier's calluses? No, not with those gloves, Japan decided. His palms and fingers would be smooth as they wrapped confidently around him. He squeezed himself faintly, unable to hold back a low moan.

"What are you doing?"

Japan reeled at the voice, low and predatory, issuing from the shadows in Germany's unmistakable accent. Japan hadn't even seen him move.

"N-n-nothing. Germany, please go back to sleep," he begged, mortified.

"It doesn't look like nothing to me," Germany murmured. "It looks like you're touching yourself. Don't let me interrupt."

"I - ah -"

"Keep going," Germany growled, making Japan buck involuntarily into his fist.

"Oh - yes -"

"It looks like you have your hand on your cock," Germany told him, and Japan caught his eyes, glinting blow-torch blue in the darkness. "Like you need it so badly can't help yourself, you had to sneak into the forest and push it through your own fist, trying to go slow but too weak to hold back, sliding up and down until your hand is racing, until you're squirming and panting for it, until your whole palm is slick with precome and your dick is so hard it aches and all you can think of is how much you need -"

"Germany," Japan gasped, not sure if he was pleading with his ally to stop or to keep going, pumping himself just as desperately as Germany said, sweat glistening on his arm, trickling down his neck and into the hollow of his throat.

"You always act so reserved," Germany scoffed, his high, perfect cheekbones as sharp as knives. "But really you're just a dirty little pervert inside, aren't you. I saw you watching us, today. Watching Italy run out of the waves, the water dripping down his body, his clothes clinging to him like skin. The way your eyes followed me the minute I took my jacket off, staring at my chest, at my arms, storing up all the images for your fantasies, for your dirty little jack-off session the minute you could get awau - what else where you looking at, you horny slut? Tell me."

Japan rushed his hand up and down, breathless, helpless, utterly terrified and intoxicated and hotter than he'd ever been in his life -

"Your - your nipples," he admitted through his harsh breathing, unable to do anything but obey. "I could see them though the - the thin cotton of your shirt - and your...ah...your behind, so tight in your pants, the sweat gleaming on your clavicle, I wanted to taste it -"

Once he starts talking, it's suddenly easy, like water released from a dam, rolling out of him. Fuck, he's so close, he needs to come, needs it so badly, he needs Germany to -

"Please," he all but howls, and his hand is a blur between his legs. "Please, Germany, I can't - I have to - "

"Come," Germany finishes for him, orders him, Japan doesn't know and doesn't care and hot white light is spiking through him, making him delirious with pleasure as he climaxes, groaning something incomprehensible that could have been Germany's name.

"That most definitely wasn't nothing," Germany reaffirmed smugly, as Japan struggled to get his breath back. "Looked like onanieren, to me."

Before Japan could respond, Germany vanished back into the shadows as swiftly and silently as he had emerged from them. Japan turned the word over in his mouth, trying the sound and taste of it.

He rather liked it.

Re: Fill!

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Re: Fill!

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Die Wörter, die wir dalassen (1/5)

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Die Wörter, die wir dalassen (2/5)

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Die Wörter, die wir dalassen (3/5)

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Die Wörter, die wir dalassen (4/5)

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France/England - New Relationship?

(Anonymous) 2009-08-01 08:49 am (UTC)(link)
Sorry for the long request...

I know everyone is probably annoyed with all of the "Britannia Angel changes *insert nation* into a child" request, but this has been stuck in my head for a while now.

I thought it'd be interesting to see Britannia Angel changing himself back into child!England accidentally(maybe he wanted to change someone else). The catch is that France decides that this is a good time for him to try to fix their relationship.

So I want France taking care of Child!England again, but trying to make things right and so they actually have a caring relationship. When England changes back, I want him to still keep his new relationship with France. As in no fighting or anything. Instead he likes being around France and is affectionate towards him.

Though, I don't want England's personality to change for anyone else. He's still the same to everyone else.

Whether England changes back into his normal self or not is up to anon. :]

Bonus if America and other nations are weird out by England's new affections for France.
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New Relationship? (1/?)

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New Relationship? (2/?)

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New Relationship? (3/4)

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New Relationship? (4/4) Fin, for part 1 anyway...

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author!anon again:

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Re: New Relationship? (4/4) Fin, for part 1 anyway...

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Re: New Relationship? (4/4) Fin, for part 1 anyway...

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New Relationship? Part 2 (1/?)

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New Relationship? Part 2 (2/?)

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New Relationship? Part 2 (3/?)

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America/England - Oh Alfred.

(Anonymous) 2009-08-01 09:29 am (UTC)(link)
Alfred jacking off to one of Arthur's songs (You know, the ones from his Character CD), because he finds Arthur's singing to be very arousing. Bonus if he gets caught. Double bonus if Arthur catches him. What happens next is up to anon!

First Fill on the Hetalia Kink Meme, be gentle~

(Anonymous) 2009-08-22 04:29 pm (UTC)(link)
Alfred would never understand why the sound of Arthur's voice turned him on so badly.

Especially when he was singing about... fish and chips, the disgusting stuff the older nation had tried to force down Alfred's throat when he was sick that one time. Arthur claimed he was trying to make Alfred feel better with home cooking, but Alfred knew better--it was retaliation for putting the hamburger on his head while he was sick at Japan's house.

So why did the sound of Arthur's voice singing about pub food make Alfred's cock twitch in his pants? Why did his hand reach down to rub it through the fabric almost without his realizing it? Was he sick again? Did he need to call in sick to his boss again (something he'd only done that once, because he never got sick, and he'd promised never to do again because it was so mortifying to admit weakness like that)?

...When did he open his fly and draw his cock out to stroke it properly?

Looking down at himself, Alfred vaguely realized he was moving his hand up and down to the beat of the music, Arthur's singing voice eliciting drops of precum as it rose and fell in the song. Even though the song itself was annoying, the man's voice was smooth and lyrical, almost feeling like another caress on Alfred's skin. A low, shuddering moan escaped his mouth as he felt the heat gathering low in his gut.

The sound of his name--"America, you idiot!"--should have thrown him off, but it sounded so passionate that the country couldn't stop his cry and the arching of his hips. God, he was so close...

As abruptly as if the power had been cut off, the music stopped, making Alfred's eyes fly open. Standing next to his stereo was Arthur himself, eyes wide and staring in shock. "Ah, Arthur..."

"You..." Arthur's face was still slack, and his eyes had focused somewhere distinctly south of Alfred's face. Looking down at himself, he realized he was still holding his stiff cock, the rod throbbing almost purple and globs of precum dripping down its length. Face going even more red from embarrassment than it had been from exertion, he hurriedly tried to cover himself up with his bomber jacket, discarded on the arm of the couch where he'd been lounging.

Once the sight was hidden, Arthur seemed to come to himself with a deep, shuddering breath. "Aa-Alfred... uh, the rest of the countries are here... for the conference."

Of course. There was a meeting of the Allied Nations today. "Thank you, Arthur... I'll be right down." Damned if Arthur's speech didn't make his cock twitch painfully, after listening to that song.

Nodding quickly, Arthur headed for the door, but stopped just short of putting his hand on the knob. "Alfred?"

"Yeah?" Shit, Arthur needed to leave now before Alfred came all over the inside of his jacket. Not that he didn't have twenty more in his closet, but this was his favorite; it was the only one worn just enough in the shoulders that he could flail his arms around wildly without restriction.

"You really haven't grown much since you were a child, have you?" Arthur's voice rang out, singing to some unknown tune.

"You bastard!" But the retort came out breathless and weak; despite the jab, the thought of Arthur looking at his cock pushed him over the edge (with the help of his hand, which had still been slowly stroking him even under the jacket). Smirking at a job well done, Arthur hurriedly left the room before Alfred could collect his senses enough to follow.


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Re: First Fill on the Hetalia Kink Meme, be gentle~

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Re: First Fill on the Hetalia Kink Meme, be gentle~

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Re: First Fill on the Hetalia Kink Meme, be gentle~

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Germany and Italy - natural instincts

(Anonymous) 2009-08-01 09:32 am (UTC)(link)
Anon would really love to see something based this (http://community.livejournal.com/hetalia/2438003.html) strip, where Germany decides to help Italy out with his suddenly activated pervy instincts. It's all for the sake of teamwork, of course! (Bonus points if Italy tops.)

Re: Germany and Italy - natural instincts

(Anonymous) 2009-08-02 07:57 am (UTC)(link)
Thirding this! and the bonus too :D

It's a shame he's still a virgin!

(Anonymous) 2009-08-01 09:34 am (UTC)(link)
Uh... well. I'd really like to see the more (sexually) experienced nations deciding it's a waste to let n.italy stay a virgin, and that he should learn to enjoy all the pleasures of sex. so they proceed to try to bed him. make it crack, make it romantic, make it serious, everything is fine.

How it ends, is up to kind!anon who wants to fill. Smut is (very much) appreciated.

I don't mind which nation ends up defiling n.ita, as long as italy bottoms and goes through it at least 3/4 willingly (so please, no rape). (initial refusal is fine thou) even threesomes or more work well for this anon. italy picking up things as they go is also great (he's italian, after all)

crack!pairings are fine, of course. [france, greece, spain, prussia, just about anyone is fine, hell, even a germany who got it through and gained his experience XD]

bonus: for a bit of fluff, i guess.

"Gilbert's Awesomeness Knows No Boundaries" or "How to Save an Italian from his Virginity" (1/?)

(Anonymous) 2011-03-09 04:01 am (UTC)(link)
"You're kidding...right?"

He tried not to smile, but it was a losing battle.

Sometimes, he just couldn't help himself.

"Be reasonable. He is older than l'Amérique."

"So what?" Gilbert snorted. "I asked him out on a date and he didn't have a clue what I was talking about."

"That is because you do not ask people out on dates," Antonio interjected. "You seize their vital regions. He was probably afraid."

"Why? It's not like I 'might' or 'might not' have slept with my ward the second he hit puberty."

"Hijo de puta, take that back!"

Choosing then to lean forward against the bar top between his companions, Francis rested his chin against his fist and frown. If Gilbert had't known any better, he would've said the Frenchman looked genuinely concerned. "I am having trouble believing you, mon ami. I, myself, taught him the passions of the body after he discovered he was a boy."

"'Taught' him, huh?"

"...Very well---told him. But I assure you, his people are knowledgeable. If he continues to persist in his abstainance, it is either because he is too nervous to try it, or he is---mon dieu---'waiting' for the right one."

"Please don't suggest Ludwig, because that ship's already left his harbour... More than once, I'd say."

"Or so one would assume..." Francis mused quietly between them. "But even if your brother is a fool, that does not mean mon frère has yet to be bedded. Quite the contrary, in fact. It could very well be that he has tried it and was unfortunate enough to have a bad experience."

"With whom?"

"Russia?" Antonio suggested, nudging Francis to sit back on his stool. "Romano and Feliciano have met the man, and I don't think I'm exaggerating when I say they're not exactly fond of him."

"Russia's nuts, but I've never seen him 'bad-touch' any of his underlings before." Gilbert paused. Then stared down into his half-filled mug of beer and frowned. "At least, not when I was around."

Polishing off his own drink, Antonio shrugged. "Maybe you're right. Romano's said as much before."

"He plans on killing anyone that tries?"

Antinio smiled and saluted him.

"I guess that settles it then... We've got to get him laid."

Francis smiled, eyes sparkling deviously. He didn't have to say anything to let Gilbert know he was in on the game.

Antonio, on the other hand, looked like he was abut to have a myocardial infarction.

"---I just told you Romanito is prepared murder anyone that touches his brother. What is wrong with you?"

"God bestowed upon me these powers of awesomeness for a reason, mein freund, to convert the non-believers and to save the beautiful people from their virginity. Do you really want Italy to go another thousand years without a lay? ...That's a little cruel, Toni. Even for you."

"I agree," Francis chimed in. "This is for mon Feli~, after all."

"You two are perverted."

"And you are sleeping with his brother."

Antion grumbled something under his breath but left it at that. Waving the bartender down for another drink, he simply sat there and stared at his empty glass, wondering how long he could keep this secret from Romano before the mafia clued in to Gilbert's mischief.

He was betting a week, maybe.

At the most.

"...Now that we've crushed the opposition---Francis, you might have to lay off on this one."

"Qu'est-ce?! But I---"

"Will be shot point-blank and strung up by your ankles if Ludwig finds you sniffing around his little hottie."

"But you said---"

"That he's an idiot. And he is, believe me, but that doesn't mean he isn't having wet dreams over the kid. If you want to sleep with him, you've got to convince him to come to Paris on his own... And maybe bolt your door. I'm sure it'll stop Ludwig as long as he's plyed with liquor."

"...Fair enough, but I you do not plan on hogging Feli to yourself, I hope."

"Hell no. Maybe if I can get Ludwig tangled up in something else in the meantime, but, seriously, no. I'm not quite ready to part ways with my dick."

"How very noble of you."

"Yep," he agreed, feeling smug.

"And so now...?"

"And now," he declared, "we start running the rumour mill..."

(Anonymous) 2009-08-01 09:36 am (UTC)(link)
Ok. Now, I like the fun gender confusion of chibitalia in a dress as much as anybody, but I'd love to see a more serious take on it. This could happen one of two general ways:

a) Italy is intersex. In one form of intersexuality, a hormone that affects male genital developement in utero is missing, so the child is born appearing female. At puberty, however, other hormones come into play and male characteristics develope.


b) Italy is Female-to-Male transgender. Presumably transitioning sometime between the kiss with HRE and meeting Germany.

It doesn't have to be epic. I just want to see something about Italy dealing with any gender/sex/presentation/anatomy issues, embracing his male identity, and maybe being comfortable with his own complications and ambiguities. If you want to throw in some goodboyfriend!Germany being understanding and thinking Italy is wonderful and sexy just the way he is, that would be lovely.


(Anonymous) 2009-08-11 02:12 pm (UTC)(link)
Whoo, okay, don't kill me. It's been a long while since I've written anything... There's not much proof reading or anything. Also I got a little off subject but don't worry it gets back to the places it needs to be. e.e they'll be more ftmness in the next installment


He'd been avoiding it for quite some time, but he was going to have to tell Germany eventually. Now was a good a time as any, he'd eventually find out anyway. It was better to do it over dinner than for him to find out in the bedroom.

Italy's member looked as real as possible, he was lucky that his surgery had went so well. But if still didn't work like a real penis, he couldn't become erect no matter how aroused he was. The last thing Italy wanted was for Germany to think he didn't find him attractive. He worries too much.

Today was Italy's day to worry though. As much as he loved and trusted Germany, coming out and saying such a thing isn't easy. Germany was the first person he loved since HRE, and since he never got a chance to tell him, he could never imagine how a lover would react. Italy had spent the entire day reminiscing about when this all began, and how all his loved ones had reacted to his news.

Romano was angry at first but eventually accepted it. It wasn't as though anything had changed really, just his body. France nii-chan didn't care either way, gender never mattered to him in no matter what he did. Austria and everyone else he was living with at the time he came out were indifferent to. Except for Hungary- she always knew and was delighted for him.

But to him, HRE's thoughts mattered the most, they had been young lovers. What would he say when he came back and saw that he was no longer a woman? He had gone over what to say a million times in his head, fretted about how he would react... For years he stayed in a sort of gender limbo. Looking at him you wouldn't think twice that he was a man, but below his belt he still remained a woman.

His reasoning was that even if he looked like a man, maybe HRE would still love him if he still had female genitalia. If HRE was that upset he could back to wearing female clothes, even if his chest was scarred from removing his breasts. They had loved each other so much, that wouldn't matter to him, would it? Part of Italy didn't want it to be that way, but at the same time he loved HRE so much. He'd been waiting so long and his fondness for him only grew with the passing days.

Besides, there was always the possiblity that HRE wouldn't mind, Italy could change his genitals and they would live happily ever after. That's what couples did right? Love over came all trials, the prince came home from his long struggle and married the love waiting for him at home. HRE had loved him since the 900s, could Italy's change really change his feelings that much?

However his love story with HRE didn't end in a fairy tale, it didn't even end in the way Italy had anticipated. No, it ended with a visit from France, his face was painted with guilt and worry. His body was battered and bruised. Something bad had happened, very bad. They were the most painful words he had ever heard yet when he heard them, he only felt numb.

"Ah...sorry. The Holy Roman Empire is no more."

"Eh?" It was the only thing Italy could manage to squeak out as a response. He couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"You should forget about him. You've already suffered enough, haven't you?"

He hadn't considered it suffering. To they were chapters in the great love story that was his life. The more he suffered, the greater the ending would be. That's the way it was supposed to be! At the end he and HRE were supposed to live happily ever after.

But that would never happen now. Their promise was broken. His heart was broken.

Writer!Anon here

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FTM!Italy Part 2/3

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Belarus/Ukraine, Bondage

(Anonymous) 2009-08-01 09:39 am (UTC)(link)
This anon would like to see some Belarus/Ukraine, Bondage, please!

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(Anonymous) 2009-08-01 06:23 pm (UTC)(link)
holy crap yes. seconded, oh godddd. the kink meme needs more sistercest.

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(Anonymous) 2009-08-01 09:52 am (UTC)(link)
Well, there isn't North Korea or South Korea, but just one Korea with two different personalities. Pairing really doesn't matter to me. Um, no humor though - some hot, dark angst. :3

Bonus: The good side (the one from Hetalia) doesn't know about his other persona.

Bonus2: The NK side (the evil one) does know. And is pretty much hostile to everyone. :/

Please and thank you <3

Betta fish

(Anonymous) 2009-08-03 09:32 am (UTC)(link)

“Get out,” Korea whispers, breathing into America’s ear as he speaks. The blonde nation tenses, trying to pull his arm away from the Asian’s grip, which is suddenly like steel. Since when is Korea this strong?

“I would, if you would let go of me,” he says, as calmly as he can. Korea ignores him, pushing up the taller man’s sleeve until it bares the remainders of the red mark. It’s almost entirely healed, but America still cringes when he touches it.

“That’s a radiation burn,” Korea says with an obsessive fascination growing in his eyes. “You wouldn’t explain it to me before. Russia has one too, on his neck. You crazy bastards, inflicting such harm on yourselves…I’m jealous.” Korea loosens his grip and America jerks his hand away. The Asian nation smiles, the air around them heavy.

“I want to hurt you so bad,” he says, taking a step closer. America can’t breathe, just shakes his head quickly. “Much, much worse than you hurt yourself. You didn’t even do it in a vital area, coward. But you hurt Japan so badly…I’m grateful, really I am-"

“-What’s gotten in to you?

“I want you dead. How dare you touch me with the same hands you use to help that -monster-”

“Japan is not-”

“The things he did to me when he was here…ah, yes, I remember them fondly. Would you like me to reenact them on you?”

America tries, fails, to think of how it got to this point.

A few months ago...
“Are you OK, little nation?”

Korea wants to retort that he’s /not/ a little nation, but to the nation standing before him, anyone must look small. And as if the size thing weren't enough of an insult, Korea's house is in shambles.

“Yeah, OK,” he says, pouting a little, crossing his arms so that his oversized sleeves seem to take up half his body. Korea is bleeding from the mouth and looks silly with that bandage over his eye, but Russia says nothing, just cocks his head.

“You don’t want me here? I can leave,” he says. Korea latches himself onto the European before he can even continue.

“Staaaaay!” he whines, loudly and obnoxiously. “What if he comes back?

“Japan? He is not coming back.”

“Are you sure? Are you sure? There are a bunch of entrances, and he can get in the South Wing-”

“America is coming, so he can stay in the South wing.”

Korea’s eyes dilate, like he’s just inhaled some sort of hallucinogen. The display of fanboyism is impossible to ignore.

“America is coming?” he says, his voice filled with awe. “America and Russia are staying at my house?”

Russia smiles. Then Korea starts to yell.


As if on cue, the roof on the North side caves in. Korea curses, and resigns himself to the idea that maybe he can put them to good use.

Russia watches the mood swing and wonders if Korea's house isn't the only unstable thing right now.

this is second anon. I already had this written, so I figured I’d put up a teaser for- yes.Also, N.Korea/America wth did I just write. Also that's not the only pairing. There will be lots. crack is whack, kids.

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I Change, You Remain The Same [1.1/?]

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UK/US - Butler Fetish

(Anonymous) 2009-08-01 10:10 am (UTC)(link)
I don't know, this came up in my head when I was watching Batman since his butler's name is Alfred... *facepalm*

Yeah so, America needs some dough and is looking a job. England offers one at his place and guess what it is? Being a butler to him.

Oh and cake for dessert would be great. 8> Food play is yum!

One Thing is For Sure (1/?)

(Anonymous) 2009-08-02 05:16 am (UTC)(link)
Dear Alfred,

I am sorry to hear about the drought that is plaguing your side of the American continent. I do find it somewhat amusing that you can have so much weather change in a single month and here we can expect rain today, and the day after. I apologize if that offends. I am happy here in London, well, I say London because it is only an hours ride from the Manor. I am glad M. Francis managed to find me a good employer. He can be a bit, ah, uppity. It is also amusing to witness their fights. But, I should not speak ill of him, he does pay well, and provides board and all. I do hope your situation improves and await your next letter.

Matthew W.

Hey Matt,

Sucks about your weather. I’d hate to have to see rainy days over and over again. Well, right now I’d love to see that. Some of the damn crops just wither and the one’s that are hanging on, well, I don’t know how long they can. I do love living here though, but sadly Mattie died. Remember? We got him when he was a puppy years ago. Ya, died in his sleep. Buried him in the yard, next to the maple tree. Glad to hear you’re doing well there and your boss sounds amusing.
PS. Francis isn’t touching you right? If it’s below the shoulder I’ll kick his ass, don’t let him grope you.

Alfred. F. J.

Dear Alfred,

Please don’t speak bad of M. Francis. Mr. Kirkland won’t allow M. Francis to touch any of his staff under his room. Last time he did Mr. Kirkland did something… I am sorry to hear about Mattie, and am still slightly embarrassed you named him that. But I am glad he lived a long and happy life. I do hope the weather improves.

Matthew W.


Everything died. Damn.



I’ve spoken to Mr. Kirkland, and he has agreed to hire you. The old butler died a while ago and, even though Mr. Kirkland insists he can take care of himself, he really must get someone. I said I had a brother and he’d said he’s willing to give you a chance. Please come Al.



“Damn, he even paid for my trip here. Man’s loaded,” Alfred mumbled and held his suitcase tighter. It was raining, like Matthew said it would. He felt so out of place. Everyone around him was pale and so stern looking, his own tanned skin and height made him nearly glow in the dreary weather.

He tilted the umbrella slightly back and peered around, looking for a familiar tuft of golden hair. And…there! He was waving.

“Mattie!” Alfred laughed and walked towards his brother. Behind him (and holding his own umbrella Alfred noticed happily) was Francis. A large carriage was behind them.

“Ah, mon ami, so fantastique of you to join us,” Francis grinned while Matthew also welcomed him.

“A carriage?”

“Ah, mon cher allows Matthieu to use it to come into the town,” Francis drawled. Matthew blushed and nodded, “Mr. Kirkland can be nice.”

Rosbif really wouldn’t know nice if it bit him in his delicious little a—” He was interrupted by Matthew’s scandalized squeak and Alfred glared at the man.

“W-well. We should be going back. Mr. Kirkland wanted to meet with you as soon as possible,” Matthew walked up and placed his hand on Alfred’s arm, “I’m gland you came, Al.”

Alfred smiled and hugged his brother, “Thanks for this Matt.”


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Poor Austria...

(Anonymous) 2009-08-01 10:16 am (UTC)(link)
From the SplatteredMinds translation of Drama CD 1, track 8.

Austria: That's... just too evil! I - I was forced to... that squid! I'll not be able to marry into anybody's family!

I figure he's talking about having to kill the squid to eat while shipwrecked. But that's not how I first read it. So...


Bonus if he's a virgin ("I'll not be able to marry into anybody's family")

Tarnished in the Water

(Anonymous) 2009-08-12 03:52 am (UTC)(link)
They shouldn't have been on that island in the first place. If they had just waited for the storm to pass, they would be right where they were supposed to be; resting comfortably and dining well while listening to wonderful music. (That is where he was supposed to be, at least.)

But, some of his companions had been in an unnecessary rush and, against his better judgement, Austria had given in and gone with them, straight into a hurricane.

Moronic. How completely moronic of all of them.

Instead of being right where he should be, Austria found himself on a beach, covered in sand, sweating beneathe the angry sun (had it always been so warm?) and trying to ignore the dull throbs of hunger in the pit of his stomach. The others were sure that help would arrive soon, but Austria had convinced himself that they would all starve to death before then. Nobody knew they were missing, after all. They had no means of reaching home, and miles of saltwater surrounded them.

He licked his dry lips as someone walked past, and stared at his feet (where had his shoes gone?) Germany's voice pulled him from his dreary thoughts.

"There's lots of things to eat here, Roderich. We won't starve."

It was the fifth time Germany had said such things to him, and the fifteenth time he'd heard it.

"Ludwiiiig, Roderiiiich! There's a tidepool over here, and it's full of food!"


Austria sighed, and shielded his eyes from the blinding rays as Italy bounded over, arms loaded down with squirming animals. He unconsciously edged away from the young nation.

"Isn't this one pretty?" Italy asked, shifting onto his toes. The other two assumed he was referring to a brightly-coloured creature dangling from his left arm. It was spewing water and leaving little trails of liquid blackness that gathered at Italy's elbow. Austria felt ill. "I found it near--oh!" Austria let out a cry as the creature detatched itself from Italy's arm and went flip-flopping along the shore and down into the surf.

Italy made a sound of disappointment as Germany took some of what he was carrying. Germany sighed, and murmured for Italy to go back to camp; he would catch up. Italy walked off, head hung, and Germany turned back to Austria, who was shivering.

"Will you do me a favour?"

"No," Austria said quickly, staring off in muted horror.

"Please? I'd catch it myself, but..."

"You want me to go after that thing?!"

"Feliciano was really happy about finding it! He's listened to you for years, and you won't even fetch him a cuttlefish?"

"We shouldn't even be here! I won't touch those things, I won't eat them, I won't go running after them into the ocean," Austria said stubbornly, and sat down some feet to the right of where he had previously been.

Germany sighed heavily, muttered something along the lines of 'fine,' and moved off in the direction Italy had gone.
Austria peered out into the water again, and sighed. Germany was right. Italy was more important than the fancy clothes he wore.

They were already ruined, anyway.

Tarnished in the Water (2/?)

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(Anonymous) 2009-08-01 10:23 am (UTC)(link)

We know that Japan is uncomfortable of being hugged to the point he freaks out. After another incident of someone breaching Japan's personal space and Japan looking very uncomfortable about it, America decides that he'll help with Japan's 'problem', much to Japan's dismay. It starts out innocently like an arm around the shoulder or snuggling to less 'innocent' things like a full out groping. Whether America's 'methods' work or not is up to the writer!anon.

Bonus: It ends in frottage.

(Anonymous) 2009-08-08 01:35 pm (UTC)(link)
Seconding so hard. DDDD:

(Anonymous) 2009-08-01 10:30 am (UTC)(link)
Prussia was dissolved as a state before World War II by Germany.

Let's see some brotherly betrayal, please? Bonus points if Germany feels guilty.

Kleindeutsche Lösung [1 / 3 + notes]

(Anonymous) 2009-08-01 03:34 pm (UTC)(link)
WARNING: Dub-con, violence, OC (Brunswick), very vague references to the Third Reich and equally vague reference to a triggering process. No happy end.

Nervous anon is nervous! First time fan-fic, and I'm not sure if I hit the prompt at all... orz

Kleindeutsche Lösung

Ludwig can not help or explain the queasy sensation in the pit of his stomach, but he does not show a thing.

He had felt ill at ease back then, too. The room was large, beautiful, and light and he would have felt a hundred times better if it were even a little bit sullied, a little dark, to match this plan, this madness. He did not turn around to face Gilbert as he undressed, pulled off his gloves, unhooked the cross – Gilbert's cross, once, but now, his – and fumbled with the first button of his shirt.

He was starting on his belt and thinking that Gilbert would change his mind and reject it, the union, Ludwig, and all the little ones, because he is so much stronger than anyone else there. Ludwig almost bit his tongue when he finally heard the creaking of Gilbert's buckle and the smooth slide and whish of his belt through its loops.

He shakes the thought away. He quietly says his thanks for the good thing that has been done, here, for the nation, for Ludwig and for his people. Then, face impassive, he mingles with the crowd. These people don't have murder and falsehoods for sale, he reminds himself, but electronics, and he stops at a few stalls and listens to the ebb and flow of questions, and answers, and so many more questions.

Back then it was different – there was the single question from Gilbert, which was really more of an exclamation – „Glaubt ihr, ihr könnt mich verarschen?!“ – and a flood of answers, of beautiful words and decisions already made. They had dressed Ludwig in white - a starched shirt, but no uniform. They would have preferred a Germania, a woman to be mighty Prussia's equally proud bride, bride of Gilbert in the black, neatly ironed, made-for-him Schutzstaffel-Uniform, the marriage of young Germany to old Prussia.

He could tell that Gilbert did not want it – him. So Ludwig kept his face dark. Gilbert could never, ever know how much Ludwig wanted this, or he would laugh in his face, because really, it was a joke, wahnwitzig, but Ludwig wanted it, wanted Gilbert, wanted to be his own country, not a sad little patchwork of people older than him who knew everything better and for whom he had no food, no food at all, although they were all in his house, so he danced Alfred's dances for a token of price money to buy crusts and knäppchen.

Gilbert would have said: „Altes Brot ist nicht hart. Kein Brot ist hart.“ Ludwig, however, had been young, and hungry, and he had been promised the darkest and most delicious rye bread, pride, revenge against Francis and Arthur who were bleeding him dry, and himself, a Deutsches Reich, if he just did this one more thing, if he just got Gilbert, the first of a thousand things he "just" had to do.

All are here: The deeply sceptical, muttering among themselves, the merely curious who drift along the stalls and only stare at the displays, at the miraculous machines, and, of course, the interested. They have brought their elegant pens and the authority to sign away large sums, just as the two-thousand-one-hundred-and-forty-two exhibitors have brought samples to ooh and aha at, arguments to convince and honey-traps of good first deals.

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America/England - Worst Case Scenario?

(Anonymous) 2009-08-01 10:32 am (UTC)(link)
My first request~!

Ok, so. Thanks to a certain board game (http://www.amazon.com/University-Games-Worst-Case-Scenario/dp/B00005EB9M), I've recently learned the best way to cure a headache, is to have sex.

Whether this is true or not, I'd like a headachey!England and an America to fix it.

Don't care how it comes about; France being the one to tell them the fact would be hysterical. Maybe add Canada, too. All four of them maybe even actually playing the game.

Despite my wording above, I prefer human names over country names. Either is fine, though. c:

Murphy's Law [1/3] (I hope XD)

(Anonymous) 2009-08-02 07:23 am (UTC)(link)
Writer!Anon apologised for any and all fails - this is the first time I've written and posted BL smut ^^; Also, this is same writer!anon that said they would post, so I hope this is okay, OP <3
Once a month, the four nations would get together and spend a long night playing games. Arthur tended to bring out Monopoly, Francis would try and play endless games of Twister and Alfred would somehow convince everyone to play poker. This month, however, Matthew brought a new game over from his house, one that he had just gotten delivered.

"'Worst Case Scenario'? Mattiew, you have the strangest taste in games," Francis scoffed. Matthew shrugged.
"I thought it would be a nice change, since Alfred always makes us play poker."
"I don't care," Arthur grumbled, his fingers rubbing his temple, "I just want this blasted headache to go away."
"Told ya you should have drank more water and less tea today," Alfred smirked, setting Mattie's game down on the table. "What are the rules to this, Mattie?"
"Think of Snakes and Ladders, with more trivia and less going backwards," Matthew explained briefly, taking the pieces out of the box. Quick as anything, Alfred snagged the blue piece. Matthew claimed the red and Francis played with the blue. This left Arthur with the green, to Alfred's amusement.

Half an hour later saw the four hunched over the table. It was Alfred's move but before he got the chance to roll the dice, Arthur stood up with a growl.
"I can't bloody well take it anymore. I'm going to get some pain killers," Arthur stormed away from the table. Francis picked up the next card and smirked.
"This one might be helpful to you, Amérique," Francis held up the card. "But I'll phrase it in terms you could understand. 'Other than medicine, how can you get rid of a headache?'"
Matthew, glancing over at the card, let out a groan, "Francis, you don't expect him to get that!"
"Mm...I dunno, a hot shower?" Alfred asked. "Wait, is this gonna impede on me in the game?"
"Non, non," Francis scolded. "This is purely outside the game. The answer is, sex, of course."
"No way," Alfred shook his head, "That can't be right. Gimme the card." Francis shrugged and passed over the card and, sure enough, sex was listed as the correct answer. Before Alfred could say anything, Arthur stumbled back from the bathroom.
"Lets get this over with," He grumbled, sinking back into the seat. "The sooner this is over, the better."
Alfred sighed and rolled his dice. Arthur was not going to be a good bed companion tonight.

Murphy's Law [2/3]

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Murphy's Law [3/3]

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Murphy's Law OMAKE & Notes

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UK/Cana - Caring for you

(Anonymous) 2009-08-01 11:10 am (UTC)(link)
I want to see England taking care, and showing more attension, to Canada after the American Revolution. It doesn't matter if it turns into a sexual relationship or not [I kind of want it to, because I ship these guys] but I want him paying more attension to his second son.

Bonus if Aussie or New Zealand appears every so often because of their new uses as penial colonys!

Lilacs and Snowdrops [1/?]

(Anonymous) 2009-08-28 11:54 pm (UTC)(link)
“It was his decision.”

England swallowed thickly when he heard the voice that sounded so much like Al– America … if the bo– ma– nation had bothered to lower his voice when he was older.

“I know,” he answered back. That was what really hurt most in the end.

Canada took in the sorry state of his adopted brother and sighed quietly to himself. England showed the toll the war had taken on him with every sluggish movement, every rip and stain on his uniform, every muddy footprint that tracked across the floor … every silent shudder that ran through his body.

“I’ll go set the tea,” he said. If England was going to break down, Canada was certain he wouldn’t appreciate an audience.


England was in Canada’s house. He still wasn’t clear on how he had gotten there exactly, but he knew how he would leave. In three days time, he would board a ship that would take him back to his island and all the problems that awaited him there. He did not look forward to facing his king.

He was not looking forward to facing much of anything these days.

A sharp whistle cut off the morbid trail his thoughts were taking. England could hear the low bustle in the kitchen as the kettle was taken off the stove, a shuffling of plates and cups and God knew what else, sounds that seemed to last a century. Canada appeared, carrying a tray of cold food, hot drink, and all the utensils needed for both. He set the silver rectangle on the table before turning to England.

Were Canada’s eyes always such a vivid plum? Or was this simply the first time England had noticed? He felt a trickle of shame mingle with the now-familiar grief and despair.

He did not know the answer.

“Let’s get you out of those clothes while the tea steeps, eh? You’re going to catch cold like this. I’m sorry I didn’t think of it sooner …”

Canada’s soft murmurs as he unbuckles, unfastens, unclasps, loosens, removes, dries, drapes, assists is both a comfort and a curse. His voice soothes England almost as much as it unsettles him and the memories (‘nightmares’ his heart insists) strengthen their demand for his attention. Hands that are calloused, but quick and warm, moved efficiently – gently over him. England has too much time to study Canada, to pick out the similarities and differences between the twins of the New World.

Hair the colour of wheat instead of gold, rippling in waves as if the wind had decided to play in the fields forever. His frame was young, awkward, still growing and stretching, compared to the brother who had skipped from being merely a boy to a boy that was on the cusp of manhood. His skin was pale, not tan, from long winters and barely enough food, freckles staking their claim defiantly in whatever patches England could see.

Canada was not the burning sun, the scorching desert, the endless sky above you, all wrapped up into a charismatic, energetic package. He was the hay in your bed, the snow on a dirt road, the tundra flowers that made you believe they bloomed only for your pleasure.

The twins were the sunrise and sunset. Achingly similar at first glance … yet it was obvious when you looked long enough that they were headed in different directions – ones of their own choosing.

“Sip it carefully, it’s still hot,” Canada warned, breaking into England’s musings once again. This time, the colony handed him a cup of tea, leaving the empire to wonder when he had poured it.

As England settled down, freshly clothed and covered in blankets, watching the steam rise from his china cup, he wondered.

America was clearly on a path away from his … but where would Canada’s lead?

Re: Lilacs and Snowdrops [1/?]

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Re: Lilacs and Snowdrops [1/?]

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Lilacs and Snowdrops [1 Footnotes]

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Sealand -> America, England - Unrequited Love

(Anonymous) 2009-08-01 11:40 am (UTC)(link)
Sealand comes to like America who treats him nicely and mingles with him (since he is bit childish himself). But America has no clue, is his dense self. And England? He's bit jealous.

Sea-kun tries to kiss America but gets caught. lol
He ends up seeing America making out with England, breaking his young first love fantasies. *sniffles* And also meaning a bit of UKxUS...Please?

Sealand -> America, England - Unrequited Love (not really a fill, but it's fanart!)

(Anonymous) 2009-08-26 10:43 pm (UTC)(link)

It's not really a fill, but anon hopes this might inspire another anon to write a fic for this request! :)

Pupppy Love (1/?)

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Pupppy Love (2/?)

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Pupppy Love (3/3)

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(Anonymous) 2009-08-01 11:46 am (UTC)(link)
So, seeing fics on this meme about Gilbert, Ludwig and the Berlin Wall have given me the worst kind of hankering. Anons, this anon wants to see the Hetalia take on Hedwig and the Angry Inch.

I have faith in you, anons! You have the power!

(Anonymous) 2009-08-01 12:07 pm (UTC)(link)
Until recently, Swiss customs laws have made it easy for smugglers and dealers to put priceless artifacts on the market:


obvious!Anon would like to see Greece, Egypt, and anyone else you can think of take pre-reforms!Switzerland to task for this.

Epic idea

(Anonymous) 2009-08-16 12:24 pm (UTC)(link)
Seconded to the max!

UK/Cana Mistaken Again...

(Anonymous) 2009-08-01 12:09 pm (UTC)(link)
After being mistaken for his brother ONCE AGAIN, Canada gives up and starts to cry. England feels guilty about it and decideds to comfort his son.

Sex please, since there's rarely any England/Canada around here!

To Fix a Wrong [1/?]

(Anonymous) 2009-08-20 05:00 pm (UTC)(link)
“I’m Canada!!! Remember, Canada? I’m a member of the Commonwealth. I was your second North American colony! I fought for you in 1812! I fought for you in World War I and II, both wars that were really not my problem because I didn’t have all the secret alliances and treaties! I’m Canada! You know, the one who actually still likes you!”

And, as Canada yells at him, red-faced and violet eyes blazing, England wonders how long the boy has been holding this in and what exactly sparked this rant.

The day had started innocently enough. He had flown to Switzerland for a world conference and fought with that frog. And then he had entered the conference room and the meeting had started.

And Germany had called up a young blond, bespectacled nation to give a speech regarding the banking system in his country because, apparently, it was doing far better than others in other countries. And the speech had been very good and nations had clapped.

And England had said, loudly, “Congratulations America. For once you did something good without mentioning robots.”

“I’m right here, Iggy.” America had responded from down the table where he sat in between Germany and China. His blue eyes were hard and his mouth was set in a severe frown.

And England had frowned lightly and turned to the near identical nation (briefly catching glimpse of the disapproving glare France threw him). “Then this is…?”

And then the nation exploded. And here he was now, frozen with shock and guilt, as his former charge unleashed a torrent of emotions and truths.

“—Canada! You took me from my papa, you hoser! You dragged me and my men to go die in your god-forsaken trenches and I was your colony far longer than America! But its always America this! America that! I’m sick of this. I adored you! I wanted you to love me! But now I know that it’s useless. I wish I could’ve stayed with France.”

And England noticed, numbly, that silvery tears were sliding down the other nation’s scarlet cheeks.

“I give up.” Canada choked out. And with that, the young nation escaped from the conference room, slamming the door as he left.

And it was dead silent as one by one, every nation (including those who still weren’t sure who Canada was) turned accusing eyes on him.

Salaud.” France hisses as he slowly stands. “Connard. Tu me dégoûtes.” And throwing one more acidic glare at the sandy-haired Brit, he leaves to chase after Canada.

And England, choking on guilt and self-hatred, is disgusted by his self as well.
Ahahahaha...I hope this is something along the lines of what OP was hoping for. This is my first time writing England/Canada. :D I hope it's alright.

Salaud. ...Connard. Tu me dégoûtes.= Bastard....Asshole. You disgust me.

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To Fix a Wrong [2A/?]

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OP is VERY pleased

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To Fix a Wrong [3/?]

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To Fix a Wrong [4/?]

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Germany/Prussia Request

(Anonymous) 2009-08-01 12:26 pm (UTC)(link)
Can I get a Germany chasing Prussia? And Prussia not reciprocating his affections? I would love it to be angst, but crack is fine too...

Re: Germany/Prussia Request

(Anonymous) 2009-08-12 02:51 am (UTC)(link)

fem!England/Bad Friends Trio

(Anonymous) 2009-08-01 12:28 pm (UTC)(link)
The Bad Friends Trio tease England about how she use to look so hot when she was a pirate and now she looks like a preteen nerd. Then at the next World Meeting, she proves them wrong. 8D HOT HOT HOT SMUT =D

Bonus: She dresses up as a dominatrix or something similarly hot and sexy >:D

Super!Bonus: Mentions of Trap!Thailand

Re: fem!England/Bad Friends Trio

(Anonymous) 2009-08-02 07:52 pm (UTC)(link)

Het Threesome

(Anonymous) 2009-08-01 12:32 pm (UTC)(link)

Example: Russia bending both of them over his desk to finger them, Russia making Belarus and Ukraine kiss by pushing both of their heads together etc...

Re: Het Threesome

(Anonymous) 2009-08-01 06:23 pm (UTC)(link)
... seconded with the fist of a horny angry god

Re: Het Threesome

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New York-tan, On Strike!

(Anonymous) 2009-08-01 12:33 pm (UTC)(link)
Anon would dearly love to see something with New York-tan in the events/situations in Disney's Newsies. (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Newsies) Want to see NY siding with the newsboys and starting a revolution of his own against the corporations taking over his city (and the rest of him too).

Want to see this New York (http://fc01.deviantart.com/fs42/i/2009/143/3/e/US_The_Three_Cancers_by_Dire_Nicotine_Addict.jpg). Ie. multi-racial NY (Holland can be his daddy though). That artist uses the name "Isaac" for him, so OP is okay with that name being used, or just 'New York'.

Bonus: America and/or any other nation(s) getting involved somehow. Witnessing it or having commentary on it or getting caught up in it somehow.

(recaptcha wants too: Jacobs slugged!!!)

King of New York [1a/?]

(Anonymous) 2009-08-11 07:30 pm (UTC)(link)
writer!anon wasn't really sure how to get that 'multiracial' NY-tan across, so she sort of used some of the personality traits she saw in the newsies in the movie, along with a small attempt at an accent. So many liberties taken...

Sorry if I ruined this awesome request.

pfft. Recaptcha: rockland Times

King of New York

Hey there, I'm Anthony Cooper, and you know what? I own New York City.

Well, that might be improvin' the truth just a little, but I might as well own it. I'm the physical embodiment of the state of New York, and you know what that means? All those big shots who think they run the city? Yeah, they ain't nothing without me.

'Course, a majority of people don't particularly know I exist, and that's cool. Who'd believe a 19-year-old kid like me was actually a few hundred years old, eh?

But you know, I'm not that selfish a guy. I mean, I feel my people want to move, I'll help them move. Gotta teach those big shots who's really in charge here after all!

This was one of those times.


It's 1899, and I was just mindin' my own beeswax walking down the street, and, ya know, I realized something. I realized we was missin' somethin'. I didn't hear the deafenin' cries of "Extry! Extry!" of those newsboys that sold papes on street corners and such. Considerin' they has to buy their daily bread with that dough, I was intrigued by this. So I decided to head over to the distributing center for the pretty big paper the World in my newsies disguise. Y'know, old, dirty clothes, cool hat, the whole getup.

You knows what I hears as soon as I get there? No, not no "Extry! Extry!" of newsies going off to sell papes, but a muffled roar of dozens of kids talking all outraged-like to each other. Impossible to tell one conversation from another. So, I did like all self-respecting would-be-representative-of-a-state-of-the-United-States-of-America would, and find out what all the ruckus was about.

" 'Ey, 'ey, whut's goin' on?" I asked a nearby newsie when I came closer to the group.

"Dey went and jacked up the price of the papes! We's barely making ends meet as we is. Why'd dey do this?"

I dropped my jaw like any newsie would -- I wouldn't put it past ol' Pulitzer to do something like that, but as of right now, I was a newsie first and foremost.

"What? How much? What's 'e playin' at?"

"Sixty cents per 'undred."

Another kid in the crowd shouted, "Dey can't do dis to us! De papes is nuttin' without us newsies!"

"Yeah, but what can kids like us do?"

"It just ain't fair!"

"C'mon, lets just sell the papes already. S'not like we can do anything 'bout it."

There was something about the grudging acceptance of this 'orrible fate that stirred me to move. Now, maybe it wasn't the smartest move a would-be-representative-of-a-state-of-the-United-States-of-America could do, (we're not really supposed to draw attention to ourselves, see?) but, y'know, I saw the statue in the courtyard and I knew what I had ta do. I jumped up on the statue, way over all the newsies' heads and shouted, "Looket us! Do we even read the papes we sell? Di'int ya read about dem trolley unions fightin' back? See? That's what we needs right now! A union! De Newsies Union!"

Re: King of New York [1b/?]

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King of New York [2a/?]

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Re: King of New York [2b/?]

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