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Human AU. Arthur is Francis' ex-lover who was close with child!Alfred in the past. They had a bad break up that's why they fight a lot.
Alfred saw his father and Arthur having sex. When he's entering puberty he starts having wet dreams about Arthur that made him avoid Arthur just before Arthur broke up with Francis and left their lives.
Alfred now all grown up met Arthur and wants him.
Alfred saw his father and Arthur having sex. When he's entering puberty he starts having wet dreams about Arthur that made him avoid Arthur just before Arthur broke up with Francis and left their lives.
Alfred now all grown up met Arthur and wants him.
Why do I want this so much? Seconded~
Human Au or not.
China's POV. Russia and China in an abusive/possessive relationship. China sick of it all tries to kill Russia in the end. Whether he succeeds or not is up to you.
China's POV. Russia and China in an abusive/possessive relationship. China sick of it all tries to kill Russia in the end. Whether he succeeds or not is up to you.
Oohhhh... Seconded just to see how someone would write this!
<---ish such a psychological genre whore.
<---ish such a psychological genre whore.
It's said that Northern Italians tend to run taller than those of the South. In the reverse, there were also stats about Southern Italians running a little heavier in BMI and body weight than their neighbors up North. I'd like to see something with the brothers and these differences, combined with the other ones we already see. And with a little bit of insecurity from Romano about his little brother being a bit taller and thinner.
Either smut, dark, fluff, or somehow even a mix if filler wants are all appreciated!
Either smut, dark, fluff, or somehow even a mix if filler wants are all appreciated!
How bad is it that this anon loves South Italy angst and insecurity? Probably because anon is just like Romano I'll think about this one, but other anons please fill as well!
I'd like to see something exploring the fact that Italy is much older than Germany, nationwise. So I guess I'm looking for Italy with a bit of depth. Smut is not required, but if you want to go in that direction, fine with me! Open request is open!
this is the anon that promised something in the discussion post. i'm hoping to do another fill for this request--so many plot bunnies, so little time. anyways, this was based off risorgimento.
Prussia bounces him a little on his hip, a motherly action that is so weirdly out of place on such a warlike nation. A faint smile is on his lips. “What do you think?” He asks guardedly. Prussia is cautious; he has every right to be.
For in Prussia’s arms is the nation that Italy once thought he knew, the nation that Italy loved and will love for years to come. His blue eyes, blond hair, and chubby cheeks are all there—all that’s missing is that ridiculously oversized hat and that billowy navy cloak.
“Holy Roman Empire.” Italy whispers, clutching the leather strap that holds a rifle across his back.
Prussia stiffens. “No,” he corrects sharply, “The German Confederation.”
Italy shakes his head furiously. “France told me he was dead!” He cries, and reaches out his (weary, weary) arms to touch the boy.
It doesn’t matter that Italy has long grown up and left the children’s world of scribbled bunnies on the edges of canvas and impromptu piano recitals in the drawing room. It doesn’t matter that Italy now has the body of a fifteen-year-old and the boy who isn’t the Holy Roman Empire but still is haven’t met in over six decades. Italy still—still, god, after all this time—still aches with everything he has for this boy.
“Italy!” Prussia reprimands curtly, and Italy snaps his hand back, as if burned.
The boy cocks his head up to give Prussia an inquisitive look. Italy’s breath catches in his throat. “Prussia…” Italy pleads.
Prussia shakes his head. “You need to understand,” Prussia’s voice is harsh, “this isn’t the Holy Roman Empire. This is—“
“—The German Confederation, I know,” Italy finishes for him. “But Prussia—“
“You can’t remind him of his past. What we need—what he needs—is a clean slate. A memory devoid of humiliation.”
Italy almost cries. But, instead: “Give him to me,” Italy insists.
Prussia eyes him suspiciously, but with great reluctance hands over his precious bundle. The boy makes no sound of protest; he merely clings to his new holder’s uniform tighter.
Italy can feel the boy’s small, quiet heartbeat through his warm skin. “You’re really miraculous, you know?” He whispers softly. “All these years…”
The boy gurgles happily and begins to suck on his thumb.
Italy laughs. “It’s okay, though,” he tells the boy, “we’ll have all the time in the world to make up for what we lost. I can tell you stories about Austria and Hungary and big brother France and big brother Spain, and…” Italy trails off, voice gone in favor of giving the boy in his arms an adoring look.
The boy stops lavishing his saliva on his finger and nuzzles against Italy’s chest. “Goo,” he pronounces clearly.
Italy sniffs. “All the time in the world…” Italy buries his head into the boy’s soft swaddling, so as to hide his inevitable tears. “I thought you were gone forever…”
And this time, Prussia doesn’t intervene and just watches the reunion that has been delayed for far, far too long.
“I met you when you were this tall,” and Italy holds his hand about two feet off the ground for effect.
“Mm,” Germany grunts in sleepy recognition. It’s been a long day, and his eyelids are already drooping closed.
“You were really little, so you probably don’t remember,” Italy continues, watching Germany’s eyelashes flutter.
“Mhm.”
“Germany?”
“Yes?” Germany mumbles, the words thick in his mouth.
Italy smiles. It’s clear that whatever he says now won’t register tomorrow morning, or the next when he says it again tomorrow night, or the night after that. Germany is still a few hundred years too young, but that’s alright with Italy. “I’m glad I met you, Germany.”
“Mm,” Germany mutters, and finally gives up and falls asleep.
Italy cuddles closer.
In the morning, Germany will still be there, and that’s all that matters.
Prussia bounces him a little on his hip, a motherly action that is so weirdly out of place on such a warlike nation. A faint smile is on his lips. “What do you think?” He asks guardedly. Prussia is cautious; he has every right to be.
For in Prussia’s arms is the nation that Italy once thought he knew, the nation that Italy loved and will love for years to come. His blue eyes, blond hair, and chubby cheeks are all there—all that’s missing is that ridiculously oversized hat and that billowy navy cloak.
“Holy Roman Empire.” Italy whispers, clutching the leather strap that holds a rifle across his back.
Prussia stiffens. “No,” he corrects sharply, “The German Confederation.”
Italy shakes his head furiously. “France told me he was dead!” He cries, and reaches out his (weary, weary) arms to touch the boy.
It doesn’t matter that Italy has long grown up and left the children’s world of scribbled bunnies on the edges of canvas and impromptu piano recitals in the drawing room. It doesn’t matter that Italy now has the body of a fifteen-year-old and the boy who isn’t the Holy Roman Empire but still is haven’t met in over six decades. Italy still—still, god, after all this time—still aches with everything he has for this boy.
“Italy!” Prussia reprimands curtly, and Italy snaps his hand back, as if burned.
The boy cocks his head up to give Prussia an inquisitive look. Italy’s breath catches in his throat. “Prussia…” Italy pleads.
Prussia shakes his head. “You need to understand,” Prussia’s voice is harsh, “this isn’t the Holy Roman Empire. This is—“
“—The German Confederation, I know,” Italy finishes for him. “But Prussia—“
“You can’t remind him of his past. What we need—what he needs—is a clean slate. A memory devoid of humiliation.”
Italy almost cries. But, instead: “Give him to me,” Italy insists.
Prussia eyes him suspiciously, but with great reluctance hands over his precious bundle. The boy makes no sound of protest; he merely clings to his new holder’s uniform tighter.
Italy can feel the boy’s small, quiet heartbeat through his warm skin. “You’re really miraculous, you know?” He whispers softly. “All these years…”
The boy gurgles happily and begins to suck on his thumb.
Italy laughs. “It’s okay, though,” he tells the boy, “we’ll have all the time in the world to make up for what we lost. I can tell you stories about Austria and Hungary and big brother France and big brother Spain, and…” Italy trails off, voice gone in favor of giving the boy in his arms an adoring look.
The boy stops lavishing his saliva on his finger and nuzzles against Italy’s chest. “Goo,” he pronounces clearly.
Italy sniffs. “All the time in the world…” Italy buries his head into the boy’s soft swaddling, so as to hide his inevitable tears. “I thought you were gone forever…”
And this time, Prussia doesn’t intervene and just watches the reunion that has been delayed for far, far too long.
“I met you when you were this tall,” and Italy holds his hand about two feet off the ground for effect.
“Mm,” Germany grunts in sleepy recognition. It’s been a long day, and his eyelids are already drooping closed.
“You were really little, so you probably don’t remember,” Italy continues, watching Germany’s eyelashes flutter.
“Mhm.”
“Germany?”
“Yes?” Germany mumbles, the words thick in his mouth.
Italy smiles. It’s clear that whatever he says now won’t register tomorrow morning, or the next when he says it again tomorrow night, or the night after that. Germany is still a few hundred years too young, but that’s alright with Italy. “I’m glad I met you, Germany.”
“Mm,” Germany mutters, and finally gives up and falls asleep.
Italy cuddles closer.
In the morning, Germany will still be there, and that’s all that matters.
This...this is adorable. I always thought that Italy would be slightly older that Germany. And this was very cute fluff. Great job arthur anon :)
Very adorable! I like that you peak into both time periods here.
My eyes got a little watery. Eeee. ♥
OMG LITTLE GERMANY Y SO CUTE
This was too sweet, anon <3
This was too sweet, anon <3
omg yayyyyyy! Thank you so much for filling! I love protective!Prussia here and baby!Germany and weary!Italy and sleepy!Germany! I felt for Italy, but it turned out sweet in the end ♥
Italy smiles. It’s clear that whatever he says now won’t register tomorrow morning, or the next when he says it again tomorrow night, or the night after that. Germany is still a few hundred years too young, but that’s alright with Italy. “I’m glad I met you, Germany.”
Dawwwww ♥
Due to their histories, there's a lot of potential depth in their relationship that isn't explored much in canon, isn't there? It would be totally awesome if you keep indulging your plot bunnies! Btw, when you say it's based on Risorgimento, do you mean the actual unification, or is that the name of a fic? /derp derp.
Italy smiles. It’s clear that whatever he says now won’t register tomorrow morning, or the next when he says it again tomorrow night, or the night after that. Germany is still a few hundred years too young, but that’s alright with Italy. “I’m glad I met you, Germany.”
Dawwwww ♥
Due to their histories, there's a lot of potential depth in their relationship that isn't explored much in canon, isn't there? It would be totally awesome if you keep indulging your plot bunnies! Btw, when you say it's based on Risorgimento, do you mean the actual unification, or is that the name of a fic? /derp derp.
Risorgimento is a doujinshi :3 You can find it (and its sequels) in the main comm ^^
yes, that's exactly what i meant. sorry about not being clear about that ^^;;
OMG THAT WAS SO BEAUTIFUL <3<3<3
And also really interesting. I wish this concept about the birth/death of nations was explored more usually. I love this and can't wait to read whatever else you come up with this great prompt
And also really interesting. I wish this concept about the birth/death of nations was explored more usually. I love this and can't wait to read whatever else you come up with this great prompt
Thank you for this sheer brilliance. I love GerIta (ItaGer?), angsty fluffiness and Risorgimento and this fill is simply the best Thanksgiving present I've ever had.
So much love! Thanks again!
So much love! Thanks again!
America is dating England. He’s very VERY nervous about his sexual inexperience. The first night they get down to it, England realises just how inexperienced America is and decides to be very vanilla. America is glad, he’s clumsy, but his passion makes the night seem to him a complete success. And he discovers vanilla sex is just how he rolls, he loves it.
But as time goes by, England is bored beyond his mind every time he has sex with him. And devastated by that realisation. He loves his lad, he truly does, but his preferences lie on the...kinky pervertedadventurous side.
He becomes cranky and evasive, and finally, France gets him to admit what’s wrong with him. America overhears, accidentally.
Happy ending or not, anons.
Bonus for hints at past FrUK, England/Spain, England/Russia…many of England’s numerous affairs that consisted of much more thrilling sex for him…even if his heart didn’t love those partners so much.
But as time goes by, England is bored beyond his mind every time he has sex with him. And devastated by that realisation. He loves his lad, he truly does, but his preferences lie on the...
He becomes cranky and evasive, and finally, France gets him to admit what’s wrong with him. America overhears, accidentally.
Happy ending or not, anons.
Bonus for hints at past FrUK, England/Spain, England/Russia…many of England’s numerous affairs that consisted of much more thrilling sex for him…even if his heart didn’t love those partners so much.
He leans against the wall and stares at nothing. Behind the door next to him, he can still hear Arthur and Francis, Francis’s voice light and teasing, Arthur’s irritated and scowling - yes, Alfred can hear a scowl in England’s voice. Arthur scowls that well.
France is insinuating sly things, about him and Arthur and Kiku and Arthur and Russia and Arthur and goddamn, was the whole world on Arthur’s booty-call list. IS the whole world on Arthur’s booty-call list.
But Alfred knew about this though, kind of sort of in the back of his head, duh it’s in all the history books and all the treaties and this, this is why Alfred tries not to look too closely at the text-books, tries to let all the implications and all the statements and all the innuendo slide over his head and if that means everyone thinks he’s a moron with a skull so empty that there’s a whistling sound when the wind blows in one ear and out the other, well, so be it.
But he can’t very well ignore this now.
Wait, of course he can. He just has to not think about it. He just has to not-think about it very very hard.
***
England’s very good at diplomacy and tact and all the things that involve him using his mouth to get things he wants. Case in point: the subtle way he goes about hinting about maybe the two of them should see other people. Alfred admires that. If he wasn’t hypersensitive, waiting and watching from somewhere behind his eyes, peering at the world, at England, from a safe little space, he may not even have realized that’s what England means, might have thought the whole conversation really was about treaties and alliances and maintaining diplomatic relations with other countries.
But he knows and he says yes right away, cheerful, even complimenting England on his being so friendly - and no, not a trace of doublespeak in the compliment, not a bit of innuendo, just good ol Alfred sunny and friendly and smiling - because it’s better to have it over and done with than have Arthur resort to telling the truth, have to hear: “Because you are clumsy and inept in bed, because you don’t know how to please me, because you were too stupid and selfish to even notice how little I was enjoying myself, because now we don’t even have sex, because now you don’t even want to try,” in that beautiful crisp English accent that he’d loved, the words and more that he had overheard that day, heard again and again and again in his dreams.
He’s been waiting for this, really. Ever since he stopped being able to get it up for England, unable to focus on the nice feelings and the heat and the skin that had used to enrapture him, only able to think of that heat and skin shared with others, ever since he had it shoved in his face that he’d been right to worry (he’d been right, he had known, he had thought about the gap between him and England, the years and the Atlantic and the histories, and he should have known to go with his first instincts to run away, to back away, to not take the risk).
Ever since then he’s been waiting for England to turn around and walk away, the pattern from the early years but he’s older this time and he knows better than to cling to England’s shirt (he’d probably tear it) and beg for things that he couldn’t have, things England couldn’t give him, things he couldn’t give England.
So he says yes and England nods and that’s it, that’s the end of this - something he’d waited two hundred years (England on his knees and crying, America on his feet and the rain, the rain that’s part of America as the land is, England cries tears and America cries rain, that day) - four hundred (he’s always loved England since he first saw him, tiny him and tall England and now it’s all turned around and maybe that’s what’s wrong, England smaller than him and he shouldn’t be, Alfred still stuck as the little child in the grass when he’s supposed to be adult, supposed to be all grown up) - a thousand years for, (dreaming dreams of emerald green and sea-salt breeze before he knew how to wake up) - and he curls up and sleeps after drinking enough bourbon to kill the dreams.
***
France is insinuating sly things, about him and Arthur and Kiku and Arthur and Russia and Arthur and goddamn, was the whole world on Arthur’s booty-call list. IS the whole world on Arthur’s booty-call list.
But Alfred knew about this though, kind of sort of in the back of his head, duh it’s in all the history books and all the treaties and this, this is why Alfred tries not to look too closely at the text-books, tries to let all the implications and all the statements and all the innuendo slide over his head and if that means everyone thinks he’s a moron with a skull so empty that there’s a whistling sound when the wind blows in one ear and out the other, well, so be it.
But he can’t very well ignore this now.
Wait, of course he can. He just has to not think about it. He just has to not-think about it very very hard.
***
England’s very good at diplomacy and tact and all the things that involve him using his mouth to get things he wants. Case in point: the subtle way he goes about hinting about maybe the two of them should see other people. Alfred admires that. If he wasn’t hypersensitive, waiting and watching from somewhere behind his eyes, peering at the world, at England, from a safe little space, he may not even have realized that’s what England means, might have thought the whole conversation really was about treaties and alliances and maintaining diplomatic relations with other countries.
But he knows and he says yes right away, cheerful, even complimenting England on his being so friendly - and no, not a trace of doublespeak in the compliment, not a bit of innuendo, just good ol Alfred sunny and friendly and smiling - because it’s better to have it over and done with than have Arthur resort to telling the truth, have to hear: “Because you are clumsy and inept in bed, because you don’t know how to please me, because you were too stupid and selfish to even notice how little I was enjoying myself, because now we don’t even have sex, because now you don’t even want to try,” in that beautiful crisp English accent that he’d loved, the words and more that he had overheard that day, heard again and again and again in his dreams.
He’s been waiting for this, really. Ever since he stopped being able to get it up for England, unable to focus on the nice feelings and the heat and the skin that had used to enrapture him, only able to think of that heat and skin shared with others, ever since he had it shoved in his face that he’d been right to worry (he’d been right, he had known, he had thought about the gap between him and England, the years and the Atlantic and the histories, and he should have known to go with his first instincts to run away, to back away, to not take the risk).
Ever since then he’s been waiting for England to turn around and walk away, the pattern from the early years but he’s older this time and he knows better than to cling to England’s shirt (he’d probably tear it) and beg for things that he couldn’t have, things England couldn’t give him, things he couldn’t give England.
So he says yes and England nods and that’s it, that’s the end of this - something he’d waited two hundred years (England on his knees and crying, America on his feet and the rain, the rain that’s part of America as the land is, England cries tears and America cries rain, that day) - four hundred (he’s always loved England since he first saw him, tiny him and tall England and now it’s all turned around and maybe that’s what’s wrong, England smaller than him and he shouldn’t be, Alfred still stuck as the little child in the grass when he’s supposed to be adult, supposed to be all grown up) - a thousand years for, (dreaming dreams of emerald green and sea-salt breeze before he knew how to wake up) - and he curls up and sleeps after drinking enough bourbon to kill the dreams.
***
Anon. Anon please more!! This reader loves USUK this way. Brillant prose and started from back to forth like this. Excellent. More!
...... ;___;
*wibbles incoherently*
*grabs Alfred and snuggles him*
*wibbles incoherently*
*grabs Alfred and snuggles him*
You made me cry, damn you ;_____;
This possible second filler feels all inadequate now D:
This possible second filler feels all inadequate now D:
Awww, don't cry. And please don't feel inadequate! This isn't even really what the OP wants and there's never too many fills, so please give your own take on it! I'd love to read that too.
So would I, anon! Even though I'm reading the other fill eagerly, too ... I feel so greedy!
I'm almost afraid to ask, but this is OP, and while this fill is intriguing, no OP ever has rejected multiple fills! So feel free to tackle it too, and please, don't be alarmed by me!
Ayrt
I'll try my best, OP, give me some time: college is being a bitch.
I'll try my best, OP, give me some time: college is being a bitch.
Wow, this is genuinely heart-breaking, and poor America is going to develop a serious complex now. T_T I'm looking forward to seeing more and getting a look at what's going on in England's head, too.
I'm crying anon. T_T I just want to give America a hug. Please continue!
OP thinks this is beautiful, especially the ennumeration at the end, and America's feelings made her heart clench.
However I'm...not very into England's characterization here. As I understood, he went to other partners, he suggested they should seek other relations, and that's kinda the opposite of what I was going for; I wanted England to love America a lot, and get frustrated because he doesn't want to leave him, of course, he loves him, but the sex is boring as hell. In this way he looks like a dick and not really so much in love with Al, at least to me.
Another thing I wanted to comment is that America's thoughts about England's past lovers don't seem to be focused on the fact that England had more pleasurable sex with them, but just on the fact that they existed: England had lovers before him. And yeah, I can see America having a complex about that, but it's the only thing he seems to be worried about, here.
And he seems to have performance anxiety and be unable to get hard? That's, um, fascinating, actually, I'd love to see a request about that, it just wasn't my request; I wanted Al to be extremely into it and proficient, maybe even too enthusiastic and with little stamina, unable to hold on, to prolongue the experience, and just liking it another way than what England goes for. I didn't want him to be BAD in bed, maybe a little clumsy, unimaginative and inexperienced, but mostly boring. The core about the problem is that Alfred doesn't realise what's going on; for him, their sexual encounters are good, fantastic even, vanilla and sweet just how he likes it.
And the way he thinks about England...it either shows that he doesn't know him at all and there's no trust between them, or he's right, and England is a prick:
because it’s better to have it over and done with than have Arthur resort to telling the truth, have to hear: “Because you are clumsy and inept in bed, because you don’t know how to please me, because you were too stupid and selfish to even notice how little I was enjoying myself, because now we don’t even have sex, because now you don’t even want to try,”
This really are the thoughts of someone in love, about what they think their beloved thinks of them?
Also, and this may be anticipating too much, but won't we get what came before this knowledge? I mean, how their first time was before it came to this?
I'm sorry if I was too harsh, the story is actually excellent, the characterization sound, the writing engaging, and the things you bring up fascinating, just...it doesn't seem to adjust to my prompt at all ^^U
However I'm...not very into England's characterization here. As I understood, he went to other partners, he suggested they should seek other relations, and that's kinda the opposite of what I was going for; I wanted England to love America a lot, and get frustrated because he doesn't want to leave him, of course, he loves him, but the sex is boring as hell. In this way he looks like a dick and not really so much in love with Al, at least to me.
Another thing I wanted to comment is that America's thoughts about England's past lovers don't seem to be focused on the fact that England had more pleasurable sex with them, but just on the fact that they existed: England had lovers before him. And yeah, I can see America having a complex about that, but it's the only thing he seems to be worried about, here.
And he seems to have performance anxiety and be unable to get hard? That's, um, fascinating, actually, I'd love to see a request about that, it just wasn't my request; I wanted Al to be extremely into it and proficient, maybe even too enthusiastic and with little stamina, unable to hold on, to prolongue the experience, and just liking it another way than what England goes for. I didn't want him to be BAD in bed, maybe a little clumsy, unimaginative and inexperienced, but mostly boring. The core about the problem is that Alfred doesn't realise what's going on; for him, their sexual encounters are good, fantastic even, vanilla and sweet just how he likes it.
And the way he thinks about England...it either shows that he doesn't know him at all and there's no trust between them, or he's right, and England is a prick:
because it’s better to have it over and done with than have Arthur resort to telling the truth, have to hear: “Because you are clumsy and inept in bed, because you don’t know how to please me, because you were too stupid and selfish to even notice how little I was enjoying myself, because now we don’t even have sex, because now you don’t even want to try,”
This really are the thoughts of someone in love, about what they think their beloved thinks of them?
Also, and this may be anticipating too much, but won't we get what came before this knowledge? I mean, how their first time was before it came to this?
I'm sorry if I was too harsh, the story is actually excellent, the characterization sound, the writing engaging, and the things you bring up fascinating, just...it doesn't seem to adjust to my prompt at all ^^U
Hey OP! Glad you liked it. Well, we haven't seen England's side. Deliberately kept what America actually heard unspecified because he hasn't heard everything. England DIDN'T say what America imagines - not most of it, most of it's in his dreams (hence "and more" and "in his dreams" guess that wasn't clear) and America didn't hear the conversation before and after the bit he did hear. (of course he overheard the worst possible bit)
America is very much the unreliable narrator in this. What America thinks England is asking is not quite what England is asking. But
Well, I guess it was to be expected - this was a quick piece, snapped off in a sleepy burst. So it ain't exactly high literature. Didn't go into detail. Hah, I think your comment is about as long as the piece. Sorry!
America is very much the unreliable narrator in this. What America thinks England is asking is not quite what England is asking. But
Well, I guess it was to be expected - this was a quick piece, snapped off in a sleepy burst. So it ain't exactly high literature. Didn't go into detail. Hah, I think your comment is about as long as the piece. Sorry!
That is true, we haven't read England's side yet. Please, don't take my review the bad way! I am very much interested in reading the rest and see what England's on about. I also didn't notice that you left what he heard (or thinks he heard) deliberately vague...seriously, please continue! For me and for all the people that left a review, this is actually very well-written, and what I criticised (probably too soon since we haven't seen the other side) was more the plot/content than the writing, which I actually liked very much
I think the OP has rather missed the point of the kink meme here. These are prompts, after all, not instructions for someone to write what you've ordered. The nature of a prompt is to inspire people, and to allow someone to put their own spin on things. If you want your story written exactly as you specify, then write it yourself.
I think you've shown an appalling rudeness, dressed up in flimsy attempts at concrit. You don't get England's characterisation? All we have seen is him through Alfred's eyes, which is going to distort it. At the moment, Alfred is hurting, projecting insecurities onto his lover. Of course he is going to suspect the worst.
because it’s better to have it over and done with than have Arthur resort telling the truth, have to hear: “Because you are clumsy and inept in bed because you don’t know how to please me, because you were too stupid selfish to even notice how little I was enjoying myself, because now we don’ even have sex, because now you don’t even want to try.
This is not the thoughts of someone in love and secure they are loved in return, you're right. This is someone who fears they might lose their lover priming themselves to hear the worst, because if you've already told yourself the ugly truth, it will hurt less to hear it from someone else. The author has constructed a scenario in which Alfred is genuinely hurting, instead of just a little put out that Arthur doesn't like his moves., and s/he has done so very well. While this is not, to the letter, what the OP asked for, it's still a fill written from this prompt and doesn't deserve to be critiqued on the basis that it's not what you envisioned when you made the prompt.
I think you've shown an appalling rudeness, dressed up in flimsy attempts at concrit. You don't get England's characterisation? All we have seen is him through Alfred's eyes, which is going to distort it. At the moment, Alfred is hurting, projecting insecurities onto his lover. Of course he is going to suspect the worst.
because it’s better to have it over and done with than have Arthur resort telling the truth, have to hear: “Because you are clumsy and inept in bed because you don’t know how to please me, because you were too stupid selfish to even notice how little I was enjoying myself, because now we don’ even have sex, because now you don’t even want to try.
This is not the thoughts of someone in love and secure they are loved in return, you're right. This is someone who fears they might lose their lover priming themselves to hear the worst, because if you've already told yourself the ugly truth, it will hurt less to hear it from someone else. The author has constructed a scenario in which Alfred is genuinely hurting, instead of just a little put out that Arthur doesn't like his moves., and s/he has done so very well. While this is not, to the letter, what the OP asked for, it's still a fill written from this prompt and doesn't deserve to be critiqued on the basis that it's not what you envisioned when you made the prompt.
Okay, kids, let's not wank so much we get this thread frozen or scare the author!anon off, because then we'll have no fill for this prompt at all. :'D
Well, maybe that's true, but also, when writers write they usually want to hear if the OP liked their fill...and I have the right, and probably the obligation, of delivering honest concrit. Maybe you're the kind of writer who prefers their reviewers delude them into thinking their writing/storybuilding is marvelous regardless of quality, but most writers are not like that, or at least that's my personal experience.
I think YOU showed an incredible rudeness and shocking presumption in assuming my motives and atittude. I took great care in being extremely polite in my review, actually praised the aspects I loved (writing, IC characterization) and delivered very respectful concrit on the rest. The main point of it, which you still seem to have missed, was that I found Alfred's hurting to be going against my prompt, since I wanted him to remain clueless. But as I told the authoranon, I really want to see the rest, and now realise I spoke too early about my impressions.
Maybe you should check the way you address others, since this is making me and possibly others, not want to leave thought-out sincere reviews and stick to "Yay so awesome please continue!", which isn't problematic and takes much less effort. The levels of butthurt around here are discouraging. Also, let me remark that the writer was much more polite and made me see the errors of my review much more than your rude comment did.
I think YOU showed an incredible rudeness and shocking presumption in assuming my motives and atittude. I took great care in being extremely polite in my review, actually praised the aspects I loved (writing, IC characterization) and delivered very respectful concrit on the rest. The main point of it, which you still seem to have missed, was that I found Alfred's hurting to be going against my prompt, since I wanted him to remain clueless. But as I told the authoranon, I really want to see the rest, and now realise I spoke too early about my impressions.
Maybe you should check the way you address others, since this is making me and possibly others, not want to leave thought-out sincere reviews and stick to "Yay so awesome please continue!", which isn't problematic and takes much less effort. The levels of butthurt around here are discouraging. Also, let me remark that the writer was much more polite and made me see the errors of my review much more than your rude comment did.
God, this is so damn good; I do hope you're continuing? Because I'm dying to know what happens, so I'll be heart-broken if this is really only a one-shot and I'm too dumb to figure it out. ._.
But yeah, you did a really good jump with disguising America as an unreliable narrator, and not over-emphasizing that America didn't hear the whole conversation. Very cool, anon. And GDI, America, that's a lot of bourbon. OTL
But yeah, you did a really good jump with disguising America as an unreliable narrator, and not over-emphasizing that America didn't hear the whole conversation. Very cool, anon. And GDI, America, that's a lot of bourbon. OTL
This anon thinks what writer!anon has written is MUCH much better than what OP is trying to say they requested. Please don't stop writer!anon, you saw a prompt that pretty much had something laid out beginning, middle, end, and made it deeper and surprising into an excellent piece of writing. It is this anon's feeling that all prompts are up for grabs to be written in whatever way a particular author imagines a story - so anon implores OP to be kind enough to let this fill stay on this thread.
Did you read my answer to authoranon's one? I am very much interested in this too. And I also ask authoranon to continue, for my sake and for your sake, all the reviewers that loved this.
I wasn't implying this was badly-written or that I wanted it off the thread; I was just offering concrit. Apparently that is bad, and I shall try to refrain from offering it in the future and just write encouragement, since it alarms everyone so much!
But yes, again, authoranon, please continue this, since I'm also very intrigued to see it develop ^^
I wasn't implying this was badly-written or that I wanted it off the thread; I was just offering concrit. Apparently that is bad, and I shall try to refrain from offering it in the future and just write encouragement, since it alarms everyone so much!
But yes, again, authoranon, please continue this, since I'm also very intrigued to see it develop ^^
sorry OP, critique is fine, but it's more appropriate to critique the story on it's own merit and leave out the a longwinded pointing out of what was different from your prompt.
I gave praise to the story on it's own merit but criticised what I personally found less gripping. But I'll take note on this; since I didn't notice what I was doing, in danger of committing the same thing again, I will refrain to give critique, because I don't want to cause so much trouble ever again, I don't want to come off as annoying/ungrateful/rude and get yelled at, and I don't want OP to feel bad and stop writing.
Oh anon, I really love your story and characterization. I want to read more of this America, please, PLEASE continue this ;;
If you’re bothered that the op thinks this ‘doesn’t adjust to their prompt at all’ (pfff), maybe you can continue this as a part of the ‘Anything goes’ thread: http://hetalia-kink.livejournal.com/11411.html?thread=23682451#t23682451
If you’re bothered that the op thinks this ‘doesn’t adjust to their prompt at all’ (pfff), maybe you can continue this as a part of the ‘Anything goes’ thread: http://hetalia-kink.livejournal.com/11411.html?thread=23682451#t23682451
England can cook. He just gets so nervous and becomes too meticulous with everything he tries to cook that it ends up bad.
Make something up, anons.
Make something up, anons.
Austria/Spain (in that order), Pride and Prejudice Style
(Anonymous) 2010-09-16 02:51 pm (UTC)(link)The title says it all, Austria and Spain are two very different types of character and I just want to see them fall in love Pride and Prejudice style.
No need to follow that story, just the general feel and character prejudice, for example Austria initially finding Spain completely too wild, and Spain thinks that Austria is such an uptight prick.
And let it end happily, pretty please (I know that's not historically accurate with all the breakup in the end, but maybe something can be work out with extending the fic across the ages till modern era)?
No need to follow that story, just the general feel and character prejudice, for example Austria initially finding Spain completely too wild, and Spain thinks that Austria is such an uptight prick.
And let it end happily, pretty please (I know that's not historically accurate with all the breakup in the end, but maybe something can be work out with extending the fic across the ages till modern era)?
Re: Austria/Spain (in that order), Pride and Prejudice Style
(Anonymous) 2010-09-16 04:58 pm (UTC)(link)fffffffffffff seconded!! (oh my, Austria!Mr Darcy :DDDD)
America introduced England to McDonald's when it first opened, and when England grumbled about not having any fish in the menu, America suggested a fish burger and that was how McFish Fillet came about. Later on more and more of England's preference appear in McD's menu (tea, English McMuffin, etc.). England did not know that America had a hand in making McD's menu more to his taste.
Bonus: Someone else realises it and points it out to England.
Bonus: Someone else realises it and points it out to England.
England is slowly falling in love with France.
At first, he thinks it's just lust (Cause, well.. France is hot), but as time passes, he's starting to get nervous and embarrassed and he forgets how to speak when he's around France and he doesn't know what to do about it anymore. And he's basically falling really HARD for Francis.
He knows it's a bad idea, he tries to stay away from Francis, but he just can't. He gets jealous when Francis is being the flirt he is around other nations, he gets mad and tries to calm himself down. And he's just a man in love, what can he do?
Whether he confesses to Francis or not and whether Francis feels the same is for you to decide.
At first, he thinks it's just lust (Cause, well.. France is hot), but as time passes, he's starting to get nervous and embarrassed and he forgets how to speak when he's around France and he doesn't know what to do about it anymore. And he's basically falling really HARD for Francis.
He knows it's a bad idea, he tries to stay away from Francis, but he just can't. He gets jealous when Francis is being the flirt he is around other nations, he gets mad and tries to calm himself down. And he's just a man in love, what can he do?
Whether he confesses to Francis or not and whether Francis feels the same is for you to decide.
cute :D want.
Very cute indeed. Thirded!
Have no preference for top or bottom. I just want to see these two guys geeking out over some type of technology which leads to some sexy times. Consensual, nothing really hardcore but light bondage(maybe with computer wires?) would be a welcoming plus.
Bonus: Use of bondage but make it fluffy.
Bonus: Use of bondage but make it fluffy.
This pairing...SECONDED....
Anon has seen this implied in some fics but never really examined as a whole.
Gender equality is something very recent (and still in-progress), for most of history -- particuarly once Christianity and its different branches became the dominant religion -- women have had less rights than men in many ways.
Anon can't help but think that this must have applied to female nations too and would like to read a fic about the way they coped with that. Things like maybe a ruler who refused to let them fight and insisted they stay feminine and out of 'mens work', prejudice from male nations and men in general, crossdressing to be taken seriously in political matters or other tactics to get round the barrier, their reactions to the suffragettes and womens rights movements (and involvement) etc.
Female nation(s) involved can be canon or a genderswitched nations. Personal prefs would be Hungary, Belarus, fem!UK, fem!France or maybe even mama!Greece and Egypt if you want to examine Ancient Historical attitudes about women for this.
Gender equality is something very recent (and still in-progress), for most of history -- particuarly once Christianity and its different branches became the dominant religion -- women have had less rights than men in many ways.
Anon can't help but think that this must have applied to female nations too and would like to read a fic about the way they coped with that. Things like maybe a ruler who refused to let them fight and insisted they stay feminine and out of 'mens work', prejudice from male nations and men in general, crossdressing to be taken seriously in political matters or other tactics to get round the barrier, their reactions to the suffragettes and womens rights movements (and involvement) etc.
Female nation(s) involved can be canon or a genderswitched nations. Personal prefs would be Hungary, Belarus, fem!UK, fem!France or maybe even mama!Greece and Egypt if you want to examine Ancient Historical attitudes about women for this.
England didn’t want to do that to him. George III, for all his faults, for all the heavy burdens of his no-good predecessors, was not a bad man. Most of her monarchs were not Bad Men, if only because she was old enough to have some wisdom accorded to time.
He was a kinder man than the previous Georges. He was less prey to veniality and vice, impulse and wrath. But softness perhaps was not what was best for a monarch, while iron rigidity only shattered them.
She traced the lace of her gown as she listened listlessly to the arguments of the Cabinet. They couldn’t see her, thanks to a judicious invisibility spell and their own stubborn blindness. A woman should not be in these chambers and thus, they did not see her. She was no maid, not with the very fine gown she wore (cream colored silk and Brussels lace) and the light dusting of pale powder upon her sandy hair.
England shook out the embroidery she was working on to let her mind wander. She traced her still coarse fingertips across the fine silk webbing making out cornflowers and pink roses.
Ah, they were coming to an accord of sorts. But half the men had stormy expressions. Good. They needed a good kick to the arse, the lot of them. Half being appeased? That was a better result than imaginable.
George III remained in his chair, looking blankly out a window. He looked too old, suddenly. The years had caught up to him in a rush, fat piling on upon his unfortunately rounded face. England got to her feet and made her silent way over, through the men filing out after making their respects to their monarch.
She let the spell slip away and watched him jump as she suddenly appeared before him.
“Were you here all this time?” he asked, hand going to his heart.
She shook her head. “I was passing by before realizing you were here.”
“They will think you are my mistress,” he sighed.
“Only the stupider ones,” she retorted. “They know what I am. They know what I am capable of.” Her voice grew steely at the end of her words, sharp and tense as a taut bowstring.
“It is war then,” George III said needlessly.
“And I am going there,” she replied too calmly.
He gave her a sharp look. “No. You know I cannot allow that-”
“You let me fight in the Seven Years’ War,” she said in a low voice. “I heard no complaints from you then.”
“That was different-” he began.
“Your grandfather had no issue with my sex. Neither did his father.”
“They cared little of this country,” George III replied far too reasonably. “They were not born on this soil.”
“No, they were not. Not like you.”
He looked at her. “You are a woman, England,” he said. “You are the fairer sex. You are not made for the likes of war. Not at all. I do not know what madness would send you to the battlefield, to face that terror and torment-”
She had had enough of this. Kindness meant little for her now. She didn’t scream; she didn’t rip apart the delicate material still in her hands. England took a deep breath.
“I have seen battlefields since the Conqueror’s time, George,” she said softly. “I was there when the Armada was defeated when your many great grandmother was precarious on her throne.” Her lip curled upward in a snarl. “Kindly do not forget that I am no mere human, particularly no human woman.”
He lifted his hand then, a terrible anger lighting up his eyes.
“You let that hand fly, George,” she warned. “And… I will never darken your door again.” She met his eyes quite squarely, her heart pounding in her chest despite her calm, cold demeanor. “I am not one of your daughters to sequester away from the world.”
“You will not go with my blessing, England,” he said at last. “Should you leave this Isle.”
She smiled but that sort of smile did not rouse matching amusement or kindness. “Do I look like I want it?” And she took no delight in the pain that sparked across his eyes.
He was a kinder man than the previous Georges. He was less prey to veniality and vice, impulse and wrath. But softness perhaps was not what was best for a monarch, while iron rigidity only shattered them.
She traced the lace of her gown as she listened listlessly to the arguments of the Cabinet. They couldn’t see her, thanks to a judicious invisibility spell and their own stubborn blindness. A woman should not be in these chambers and thus, they did not see her. She was no maid, not with the very fine gown she wore (cream colored silk and Brussels lace) and the light dusting of pale powder upon her sandy hair.
England shook out the embroidery she was working on to let her mind wander. She traced her still coarse fingertips across the fine silk webbing making out cornflowers and pink roses.
Ah, they were coming to an accord of sorts. But half the men had stormy expressions. Good. They needed a good kick to the arse, the lot of them. Half being appeased? That was a better result than imaginable.
George III remained in his chair, looking blankly out a window. He looked too old, suddenly. The years had caught up to him in a rush, fat piling on upon his unfortunately rounded face. England got to her feet and made her silent way over, through the men filing out after making their respects to their monarch.
She let the spell slip away and watched him jump as she suddenly appeared before him.
“Were you here all this time?” he asked, hand going to his heart.
She shook her head. “I was passing by before realizing you were here.”
“They will think you are my mistress,” he sighed.
“Only the stupider ones,” she retorted. “They know what I am. They know what I am capable of.” Her voice grew steely at the end of her words, sharp and tense as a taut bowstring.
“It is war then,” George III said needlessly.
“And I am going there,” she replied too calmly.
He gave her a sharp look. “No. You know I cannot allow that-”
“You let me fight in the Seven Years’ War,” she said in a low voice. “I heard no complaints from you then.”
“That was different-” he began.
“Your grandfather had no issue with my sex. Neither did his father.”
“They cared little of this country,” George III replied far too reasonably. “They were not born on this soil.”
“No, they were not. Not like you.”
He looked at her. “You are a woman, England,” he said. “You are the fairer sex. You are not made for the likes of war. Not at all. I do not know what madness would send you to the battlefield, to face that terror and torment-”
She had had enough of this. Kindness meant little for her now. She didn’t scream; she didn’t rip apart the delicate material still in her hands. England took a deep breath.
“I have seen battlefields since the Conqueror’s time, George,” she said softly. “I was there when the Armada was defeated when your many great grandmother was precarious on her throne.” Her lip curled upward in a snarl. “Kindly do not forget that I am no mere human, particularly no human woman.”
He lifted his hand then, a terrible anger lighting up his eyes.
“You let that hand fly, George,” she warned. “And… I will never darken your door again.” She met his eyes quite squarely, her heart pounding in her chest despite her calm, cold demeanor. “I am not one of your daughters to sequester away from the world.”
“You will not go with my blessing, England,” he said at last. “Should you leave this Isle.”
She smiled but that sort of smile did not rouse matching amusement or kindness. “Do I look like I want it?” And she took no delight in the pain that sparked across his eyes.
England handed over the delicate linen and silk smock she had been working on for the past few days. “Give this to one of your daughters, yes? If they will not wear it, perhaps they will garner some use from it.”
George III accepted the fragile, pretty little thing mindlessly and nodded. He looked as if he did not trust himself to speak, whether out of fear or out of anger. She did not curtsey to him. Instead, she gave him a bow that would have made the most withered admiral proud and swept out of the room.
A boy in a well-used but tenderly mended red uniform boarded a ship a week later. He did not speak overly much, but he did not need to, as he took care of the ship as ably and lovingly as any of the sailors. Even the most inquisitive couldn’t bring themselves to look into his eyes, not for long.
At the end of the American Revolution, a quiet bruised England returned up the Thames. She put on her gowns again and busied herself with eavesdropping on Parliament, visible only to George III. Who knew what else she was up to in between and he made no further remark. When the king became his ignominious descent to madness, England merely watched, knowing that she could do nothing for him. How many of her monarchs had begged her at the end of their days to extend their too brief lives, if only for a day? How many of them thought she had some magical elixir that kept her young?
The Prince of Wales thought little enough of her, she who lacked fine turn of leg or lovely breasts. But he could read the winds well enough. When France’s little Corsican started his row upon the Continent, England went to her chest and then to her tailor.
She paid a last visit to George III. He saw her clearly, wearing a brand new naval uniform, her hair cropped short once again. He closed his eyes upon seeing her and said, “Just go. Just go.”
England paused and made as if to touch him but he shrunk away from her. “Be well,” she said and both knew how empty those words were.
Notes:
-George III was the first king of the Hanoverian dynasty to actually be born on English soil and grew up primarily speaking English (though he was also quite good at German).
–He genuinely loved his wife and unlike his predecessors and his heirs, he took no mistress. Compared to his grandfather (George II) and his son (The eventual Prince Regent), he was rather prudish and kept his daughters closed up in a kind of nunnery, refusing to let them get married.
-As a king, George III has been both maligned and praised, considered both a ruthless tyrant and a clever administrator throughout the years after his reign and death, considering his involvement in the Seven Years War (fought in the early part of his reign and part of British domination on the seas) and of course, the American Revolution. Both interpretations are subject to scrutiny and criticism, particularly as he had once rather bluntly said: “[let not] the tongue of malice may not paint my intentions in those colours she admires, nor the sycophant extoll me beyond what I deserve.”
-Apart from being the “evil Tyrant” of the American Revolution, George III is also remembered for his famous madness that struck him at the later years of his life. Medical historians hypothesize that he was affected by porphyria, a rare genetic disorder that causes psychosis and many other physical problems. What also exacerbated this condition was the crude attempts at curing it by doctors, including uses of purges (laxatives), bleeding, burning, and doses of toxins such as mercury and arsenic.
-The Prince Regent (who became George IV) was a particularly infamous lecher.
George III accepted the fragile, pretty little thing mindlessly and nodded. He looked as if he did not trust himself to speak, whether out of fear or out of anger. She did not curtsey to him. Instead, she gave him a bow that would have made the most withered admiral proud and swept out of the room.
A boy in a well-used but tenderly mended red uniform boarded a ship a week later. He did not speak overly much, but he did not need to, as he took care of the ship as ably and lovingly as any of the sailors. Even the most inquisitive couldn’t bring themselves to look into his eyes, not for long.
At the end of the American Revolution, a quiet bruised England returned up the Thames. She put on her gowns again and busied herself with eavesdropping on Parliament, visible only to George III. Who knew what else she was up to in between and he made no further remark. When the king became his ignominious descent to madness, England merely watched, knowing that she could do nothing for him. How many of her monarchs had begged her at the end of their days to extend their too brief lives, if only for a day? How many of them thought she had some magical elixir that kept her young?
The Prince of Wales thought little enough of her, she who lacked fine turn of leg or lovely breasts. But he could read the winds well enough. When France’s little Corsican started his row upon the Continent, England went to her chest and then to her tailor.
She paid a last visit to George III. He saw her clearly, wearing a brand new naval uniform, her hair cropped short once again. He closed his eyes upon seeing her and said, “Just go. Just go.”
England paused and made as if to touch him but he shrunk away from her. “Be well,” she said and both knew how empty those words were.
Notes:
-George III was the first king of the Hanoverian dynasty to actually be born on English soil and grew up primarily speaking English (though he was also quite good at German).
–He genuinely loved his wife and unlike his predecessors and his heirs, he took no mistress. Compared to his grandfather (George II) and his son (The eventual Prince Regent), he was rather prudish and kept his daughters closed up in a kind of nunnery, refusing to let them get married.
-As a king, George III has been both maligned and praised, considered both a ruthless tyrant and a clever administrator throughout the years after his reign and death, considering his involvement in the Seven Years War (fought in the early part of his reign and part of British domination on the seas) and of course, the American Revolution. Both interpretations are subject to scrutiny and criticism, particularly as he had once rather bluntly said: “[let not] the tongue of malice may not paint my intentions in those colours she admires, nor the sycophant extoll me beyond what I deserve.”
-Apart from being the “evil Tyrant” of the American Revolution, George III is also remembered for his famous madness that struck him at the later years of his life. Medical historians hypothesize that he was affected by porphyria, a rare genetic disorder that causes psychosis and many other physical problems. What also exacerbated this condition was the crude attempts at curing it by doctors, including uses of purges (laxatives), bleeding, burning, and doses of toxins such as mercury and arsenic.
-The Prince Regent (who became George IV) was a particularly infamous lecher.
Didn't expect a fill so fast! Wow. Thank you author!anon, this was a great read and informative too! England is wonderful in this, fiercely independent and strong willed, determined to do what she considers she has to regardless of her kings wishes. Love it!
This is beautiful. I love how you painted the greatness of a nation, the insurmountable difference between England and King George. And that you painted George kindly, for he was good man.
Very nice! I like how determined England is, and how George approaches things - true to the era, but acknowedging the weirdness of England being, well, England.
Wang Bao was an excellent artist. She could capture the beauty of a pig pen if she wanted, Jia thought while watching her dip her brush in the ink well. Bao chose that moment to glance up and meet Jia's eyes before glancing back to her painting.
Jia followed her gaze, the house she had painted was beautifully rendered. Browns and greys with splashes of red. The lanterns glowing gold against the impending dusk. But Jia's eyes were drawn to the railings, railings devoid of their banisters and rendering the otherwise lovely painting incomplete.
"The most important part." Bao said more to herself than anyone else, as she carefully moved the brush across the paper.
The banisters complete, Jia read them, "I think that's good, Wang Bao, but isn't it a little obvious."
The woman snorted, "Men don't notice anything outside their own head, aru. Remember that."
-
It had gotten late and winter was drawing in fast. Jia blew on her hands and shrugged her ill-fitting jacket back on her shoulders. Around her the mountains enclosed them like they were the only people in the world and in the distance the sky was darkening but above it looked like one of Bao's paintbrushes had been taken to it. Puce and amaranth mixed into the sun's dying gold.
Jia thought that was a rather odd way to think about it, but she had always been a strange child. So when the even stranger Bao arrived without a husband, brother or father, Jia had found herself drawn to her. She had delighted in being the one who, for once, was the more knowledgeable. She directed Bao's hand and said; no, you write the word as it sounds. We don't give a meaning to a mark, we give it a sound. She'd shown her, admittedly clumsy, embroidery to Bao, who read the poem with the slowness of a newly acquired language and then praised Jia's imagery.
They were Sworn Sisters and Jia passed down everything her mother had taught her.
-
The few years they had passed quickly and Bao watched as people started to gather for the marriage ceremony. She knew it was just another part of life and that this new husband would keep Jia safe and, with any luck, happy - even if he did look rather too pleased with himself. But Jia was beautiful and Bao wondered if she was the only one who could see the absolute terror in her eyes. They always grew up, her people, however much she wished to keep time still and life happened. She sighed, four thousand years and she still couldn't accept that.
She followed the procession down the mountain road, through the forests and fields before coming to the young man's village and Bao saw them to his house.
The party lingered until the third day when everyone began to make the preparations to go, leaving the young bride alone in her new house with her new family.
Jia stood outside her new doorway and clutched at her mother's arm. Words were exchanged and a gift was given, Bao knew what it was because she had one herself and the moment Jia's mother turned away despite her daughter's protests, she moved forward.
"Bao." Jia said, now clutching at her sleeve instead.
Bao held out her book and Jia took it with trembling hands.
"It has everything, everything I know and you'll ever need," Bao lent closer as she finished, "and if you ever feel alone, aru, you can write in it too, I left room."
Jia clutched the book to her chest, next to her mother's, "Please don't go, Bao, please."
Bao couldn't bare to look back as she left the village to go back to the mountains and what had felt like home.
-
In the night Bao packed up and moved out, it never did do to stay in one place too long. You formed attachments and that never worked out well.
Jia followed her gaze, the house she had painted was beautifully rendered. Browns and greys with splashes of red. The lanterns glowing gold against the impending dusk. But Jia's eyes were drawn to the railings, railings devoid of their banisters and rendering the otherwise lovely painting incomplete.
"The most important part." Bao said more to herself than anyone else, as she carefully moved the brush across the paper.
The banisters complete, Jia read them, "I think that's good, Wang Bao, but isn't it a little obvious."
The woman snorted, "Men don't notice anything outside their own head, aru. Remember that."
-
It had gotten late and winter was drawing in fast. Jia blew on her hands and shrugged her ill-fitting jacket back on her shoulders. Around her the mountains enclosed them like they were the only people in the world and in the distance the sky was darkening but above it looked like one of Bao's paintbrushes had been taken to it. Puce and amaranth mixed into the sun's dying gold.
Jia thought that was a rather odd way to think about it, but she had always been a strange child. So when the even stranger Bao arrived without a husband, brother or father, Jia had found herself drawn to her. She had delighted in being the one who, for once, was the more knowledgeable. She directed Bao's hand and said; no, you write the word as it sounds. We don't give a meaning to a mark, we give it a sound. She'd shown her, admittedly clumsy, embroidery to Bao, who read the poem with the slowness of a newly acquired language and then praised Jia's imagery.
They were Sworn Sisters and Jia passed down everything her mother had taught her.
-
The few years they had passed quickly and Bao watched as people started to gather for the marriage ceremony. She knew it was just another part of life and that this new husband would keep Jia safe and, with any luck, happy - even if he did look rather too pleased with himself. But Jia was beautiful and Bao wondered if she was the only one who could see the absolute terror in her eyes. They always grew up, her people, however much she wished to keep time still and life happened. She sighed, four thousand years and she still couldn't accept that.
She followed the procession down the mountain road, through the forests and fields before coming to the young man's village and Bao saw them to his house.
The party lingered until the third day when everyone began to make the preparations to go, leaving the young bride alone in her new house with her new family.
Jia stood outside her new doorway and clutched at her mother's arm. Words were exchanged and a gift was given, Bao knew what it was because she had one herself and the moment Jia's mother turned away despite her daughter's protests, she moved forward.
"Bao." Jia said, now clutching at her sleeve instead.
Bao held out her book and Jia took it with trembling hands.
"It has everything, everything I know and you'll ever need," Bao lent closer as she finished, "and if you ever feel alone, aru, you can write in it too, I left room."
Jia clutched the book to her chest, next to her mother's, "Please don't go, Bao, please."
Bao couldn't bare to look back as she left the village to go back to the mountains and what had felt like home.
-
In the night Bao packed up and moved out, it never did do to stay in one place too long. You formed attachments and that never worked out well.
I am honestly not trying to take away from the fill above this one (it's so much better anyway), but when I saw the request it just reminded me of Nu Shu.
Nu Shu is a form of writing developed by the women of the Yao people. Traditionally only the men were allowed to read and write so the women developed their own alphabet, which was phonetic, and used it instead. It was a well kept secret and incorporated into pictures and embroidery. The women who knew it were 'Sworn Sisters' and when a girl was married she'd be given a book written in Nu Shu as a token of how much she'd be missed.
This is probably not what OP wanted, since it's a much more discreet way of sticking two fingers up at society and this fill got a bit convoluted. I hope you don't mind FemChina.
I also want to apologise for how much I have probably butchered this culture, sorry. China has always been one of my favorite places since I was small and I honestly don't mean to be insulting (if I have, I hope I haven't).
Nu Shu is a form of writing developed by the women of the Yao people. Traditionally only the men were allowed to read and write so the women developed their own alphabet, which was phonetic, and used it instead. It was a well kept secret and incorporated into pictures and embroidery. The women who knew it were 'Sworn Sisters' and when a girl was married she'd be given a book written in Nu Shu as a token of how much she'd be missed.
This is probably not what OP wanted, since it's a much more discreet way of sticking two fingers up at society and this fill got a bit convoluted. I hope you don't mind FemChina.
I also want to apologise for how much I have probably butchered this culture, sorry. China has always been one of my favorite places since I was small and I honestly don't mean to be insulting (if I have, I hope I haven't).
Two fills in one day, goodness I am a happy OP :D And it perfectly fit the theme that I wanted. It's not all about open rebellion (as much as that is awesome), the quieter ways as demonstrated here are fascinating as well. I never knew this about Chinese women before! I love these fills as they teach me as well as give good reads.
Thank you author!anon!
Thank you author!anon!
The woman snorted, "Men don't notice anything outside their own head, aru. Remember that."
I will always remember this line. Well DONE.
I will always remember this line. Well DONE.
Just what the prompt says. Established relationship.
Super Mega Bonus
America(don't care what you name her) gets emotional and has a sudden irrational fear that Ivan is going to break up with her(starts to cry and begging him not to leave her). A confused Ivan stops everything to comfort and reassure her he's not going anywhere.
Bonus
After comforting her things pick up where they left off only slower and more loving...she cums a 2nd time.
Super Mega Bonus
America(don't care what you name her) gets emotional and has a sudden irrational fear that Ivan is going to break up with her(starts to cry and begging him not to leave her). A confused Ivan stops everything to comfort and reassure her he's not going anywhere.
Bonus
After comforting her things pick up where they left off only slower and more loving...she cums a 2nd time.
This is so awesome!
Especially the whole "NOT a virgin" thing!
*squeals*
I second since my talents would not do this justice!
Especially the whole "NOT a virgin" thing!
*squeals*
I second since my talents would not do this justice!
This isn't exactly a "Girl's night out" request. But I would love to see the female characters (only the canon ones, please) talking about their sex lives.
Do you have something in mind? Because I immediately thought of a Monologues of the Vagina format.
It's ok if you want to follow that format.
And thank you for your interest on my request ^^
And thank you for your interest on my request ^^
The reason that the Italians we're actually better, in some cases, than the Germans during the invasion of Russia, where even the Moscow radio was paying attention as to where there were Italian troops were most of the time, has been bugging Germany for a while now.
It isn't until he gets into a very uncharacteristic verbal fight with Russia that he finds out he's not the only one that thinks Veneziano's sudden competence was suspicious.
However, the confrontation with Veneziano wasn't quite what they expected.
How can someone so frivolous shape up so completely just because 'they're cold and want to go home'?
Bonus) Mentions on how Mediterranean Nations are affected oddly by the weather.
Bonus 2)France swears that Arthur’s weather feels like cabin fever. XD
It isn't until he gets into a very uncharacteristic verbal fight with Russia that he finds out he's not the only one that thinks Veneziano's sudden competence was suspicious.
However, the confrontation with Veneziano wasn't quite what they expected.
How can someone so frivolous shape up so completely just because 'they're cold and want to go home'?
Bonus) Mentions on how Mediterranean Nations are affected oddly by the weather.
Bonus 2)France swears that Arthur’s weather feels like cabin fever. XD
Uummm...OK so I meant to put change my title to 'I HATE Being Cold', but forgot.
Shit, that first bonus makes SO MUCH SENSE, and it'd also explain how a lazy guy like Spain had half the world at some pointXD
Seconding for major justice, this needs to be done!
Seconding for major justice, this needs to be done!
Anon would like to see some UKUS loving, in that order. America has a Daddy fetish and would like to act like a naive little boy and wants "Daddy" to make him feel better. No shota, please! It's a fetish/kink, which means it didn't happen when America was a kid.
Love from Anon if writer makes England find this out in an embarrassing situation for America and takes advantage.
Double love if the word "Daddy" is actually used~ "Big Brother" is good too, but "Daddy" mostly.
:D Thanks Writer!Anon in advance!
Love from Anon if writer makes England find this out in an embarrassing situation for America and takes advantage.
Double love if the word "Daddy" is actually used~ "Big Brother" is good too, but "Daddy" mostly.
:D Thanks Writer!Anon in advance!
This prompt is just too good to resist. Seconding for now, but maybe, maybe, could become a filler.
Why so awesome anon~?
Why so awesome anon~?
filled
http://hetalia-kink.livejournal.com/21753.html?thread=97079545#t97079545
http://hetalia-kink.livejournal.com/21753.html?thread=97079545#t97079545
So, basically I want France to use his french charm to seduce Austria by every trick in the book.
Anon would like to see France to focus on describing Austrias beauty, making lots of compliments and slowly ensnaring him. Austria is totally falling for it. Sexy times ensues, with France taking a long time in foreplay, making Austria feel like a "queen".
Everything else is up to you, can be AU or not, with historical background or not.
Anon would prefer human names, but if you're not cool with it, country names are ok too.
Bonus - The sex is very fluffy at first, but in the end it's very hot and sexy.
Anon would like to see France to focus on describing Austrias beauty, making lots of compliments and slowly ensnaring him. Austria is totally falling for it. Sexy times ensues, with France taking a long time in foreplay, making Austria feel like a "queen".
Everything else is up to you, can be AU or not, with historical background or not.
Anon would prefer human names, but if you're not cool with it, country names are ok too.
Bonus - The sex is very fluffy at first, but in the end it's very hot and sexy.
Oh God yes. Seconding with all my heart.
Seconding! It'd be nice to see a fic about France's mastery of seduction, and not just his mastery of sex, which is usually what gets written.
Anon would like to see some early morning sexytimes between these two. Maybe one of them wants to surprise the other or perhaps they've already done a few rounds before falling asleep and are still horny.
Bonus: Japan is the one who initiates.
Bonus: Japan is the one who initiates.
If this anon doesn't do this:
SECOND LIKE A BURNING!
SECOND LIKE A BURNING!
http://hetalia-kink.livejournal.com/17465.html?thread=60219449#t60219449
UK/US (dominate England is unf<3) and Germany/Italy
So basically England and Germany somehow getting into an argument about which of their boyfriends are better/cuter/better in bed/ect. They go as far as to set up pretend double dates to show off their significant other to prove to each other that their uke is indeed better. They go as far as to asking other nations and trying to get more "on their side".
Italy and America are clueless the entire time this is going on and just think everyone is staring to get along more; which is great because the two end up paling around during this whole ordeal.
Bonus: at least one nation no one would expect siding with one or the other uke when asked.
Bonus 2: During a summit England and Germany discover their hotel rooms are right next to each other and a sexing "who's uke lasts longer in bed" contest ensues. ([s]hotel walls are so thin...[/s])
Bonus 3: in the middle of one of their arguments some words are said and they both end up on the topic of America/Italy (or whatever order) and both get hot and bothered by it.
How this little "war" of theirs ends is up to the author!anon. c:
So basically England and Germany somehow getting into an argument about which of their boyfriends are better/cuter/better in bed/ect. They go as far as to set up pretend double dates to show off their significant other to prove to each other that their uke is indeed better. They go as far as to asking other nations and trying to get more "on their side".
Italy and America are clueless the entire time this is going on and just think everyone is staring to get along more; which is great because the two end up paling around during this whole ordeal.
Bonus: at least one nation no one would expect siding with one or the other uke when asked.
Bonus 2: During a summit England and Germany discover their hotel rooms are right next to each other and a sexing "who's uke lasts longer in bed" contest ensues. ([s]hotel walls are so thin...[/s])
Bonus 3: in the middle of one of their arguments some words are said and they both end up on the topic of America/Italy (or whatever order) and both get hot and bothered by it.
How this little "war" of theirs ends is up to the author!anon. c:
(screened comment)
(screened comment)
Fill underway here: http://hetalia-kink.livejournal.com/18772.html?thread=74547540#t74547540 <3
After a one night stand Switzerland just buckles under the guilt/self-hatred and tries to push Liechtenstein away.
I have to say SwissLili is my guilty pairing, and I can see Switz doing this. If I ever have the time, I will fill it but it may be a long while damn university
YESYES I KNOW IT'S NOT VERY CIVIL BUTTT
I don't see much of this around. And I love a good pregnant guy.
I ask for please~
-Romano is preggoz
-Spain somehow knocks him up XDD
-Romano wants to get the thing out but learns to love it. (aww)
-Spain is too excited and pisses Romano off
BONUS TIME:
-Roma has crazy middle of the night cravings and makes Spain make him food
-Every time the baby kicks Roma gets angry (And Spain tries to help the poor thing ;w; )
-People start to notice.
I don't see much of this around. And I love a good pregnant guy.
I ask for please~
-Romano is preggoz
-Spain somehow knocks him up XDD
-Romano wants to get the thing out but learns to love it. (aww)
-Spain is too excited and pisses Romano off
BONUS TIME:
-Roma has crazy middle of the night cravings and makes Spain make him food
-Every time the baby kicks Roma gets angry (And Spain tries to help the poor thing ;w; )
-People start to notice.
http://hetalia-kink.livejournal.com/17465.html?thread=60056889#t60056889
France/England Sitting on his lap during a world conference
(Anonymous) 2010-09-16 08:57 pm (UTC)(link)BASICALLY what the title says, I dont care how its done. Just do it. I want Iggy sitting on France's lap during a meeting :D
Bonus: America getting just a little bit jealous.
Bonus: America getting just a little bit jealous.
Re: France/England Sitting on his lap during a world conference
(Anonymous) 2010-09-24 06:21 pm (UTC)(link)Oh, yes, everything, including the bonus. Fantastic, your are ^^
Russia's constant attempts to make nations become one with him pay off and he creates his own harem. Can be an alt. history where Communism spread a lot further or a crack fic or some other plot set in recent times...anything goes.
Bonus: It's not just the usual suspects who become one with Russia. Nations in Western Europe such as England, France and Germany are made part of the harem too
Bonus: America and Belarus team up to try and put a stop to this because America is appalledthat Russia took away England just on principle and Belarus is insanely jealous of her brother's...collection
Bonus: Russia dresses the nations in his harem in the sorts of outfits that you'd expect to see in a harem...i.e. revealing and generally NSFW
I know this sounds like a rapetruck!Russia request, but I'm thinking more along the lines of creepy-cute!Russia who's delighted with all his newtoys lovers but at the same time won't hesitate to punish those who protest/try to escape. Though if (some of) the nations want to be there, that's also fine.
Also, smut is not required but would be delicious
Bonus: It's not just the usual suspects who become one with Russia. Nations in Western Europe such as England, France and Germany are made part of the harem too
Bonus: America and Belarus team up to try and put a stop to this because America is appalled
Bonus: Russia dresses the nations in his harem in the sorts of outfits that you'd expect to see in a harem...i.e. revealing and generally NSFW
I know this sounds like a rapetruck!Russia request, but I'm thinking more along the lines of creepy-cute!Russia who's delighted with all his new
Also, smut is not required but would be delicious
Inspired by this very moving song http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A9MRbek0JXk
Angst, yes angst so much it will choke you is what I want. Smut not required. If you manage, I will love you forever. NO non-con. Yeah, that is not so easy. :/
Angst, yes angst so much it will choke you is what I want. Smut not required. If you manage, I will love you forever. NO non-con. Yeah, that is not so easy. :/
America goes in front of the world during a conferance and burns her bra. If you want to pair her with anyone OP fine with anyone.
The feminist in this anon wants to see this!
As much as bra burning didn't really happen (at least not as much as people think it did) I want to see this too! The imagery is too good to waste XD
Hungary cries tears of shame whilst she masturbates furiously to non-con porn. Any kind of non-con is fine, but male -> female is preferred for maximum guilt.
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