Hetalia kink meme ([personal profile] hetalia_kink) wrote2012-06-03 02:47 pm

Hetalia Kink meme part 15

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hetalia kink meme
part 15


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Ahh yeah that is the super duper delayed Christmas reveal for 2009 LOL...just found the time to finish it now...
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(frozen comment) Rome/Germania -- Goats

[identity profile] hetalia-kink.livejournal.com 2010-10-16 12:10 am (UTC)(link)
(This is a model request. Please follow this format when requesting yourself: Pairing/character(s) and kink/prompt in subject line, BRIEF elaboration in message -- stay under 200 words and 3 bonuses. Historical background or definition of words, which can be removed without changing the prompt itself, won't count toward the limit.)

I'm requesting something humorous involving the above. Doesn't have to have smut, but smut would be nice.

Austria, Military crack

(Anonymous) 2010-10-16 12:25 am (UTC)(link)
In 1788, one of the most stupid events in military history took place: the Battle of Karansebes. Basically the Austrian army got drunk and started shooting each other. And then trampled over their fellow soldiers while escaping from the imaginary Turkish army. Which is pretty stupid, if you ask me.

I'd love to see some cracky/humorous take on this. Maybe Prussia laughing his (awesome) ass off? Maybe Turkey remembering the lameness of the Austrian army? I don't know, I just want something funny.

More info here: http://www.cracked.com/article_17123_5-most-retarded-wars-ever-fought.html Check #3.

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OP here

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Netherlands/Iceland - molestation

(Anonymous) 2010-10-16 12:29 am (UTC)(link)
Request somewhat based on this fancomic: http://www.pixiv.net/member_illust.php?mode=big&illust_id=12114722

The Netherlands (and the UK) lost a lot of money when the banks in Iceland collapsed.

The other Nordics notice something odd - when England harasses Iceland about the money, they'll usually just end up bitching at one another until someone storms off/hangs up - but when the Netherlands does it, Iceland is utterly petrified, avoids him as much as possible, won't talk to him without other people around, etc., and gets increasingly upset/clingy/paranoid as it continues. This baffling behavior sparks off a Great Nordic Investigation, which eventually succeeds in making him talk.

The explanation is much worse than they could have imagined. As a child, Iceland was so androgynous that he was frequently mistaken for a little girl, and the Netherlands - who has a thing for little girls - molested him before actually realizing he was a boy.

Bonus: Part of the reason Iceland doesn't want to tell anyone what happened is because he's afraid he'll be accused of making it up to get out of paying his debt and/or told it wasn't a big deal because he hadn't actually been raped.

*purchases some prime real estate in Hell*

And Such Are The Consequences 1/?

(Anonymous) 2010-10-24 06:22 pm (UTC)(link)
Iceland has a beautiful vision in his head. It involves an English monastery, a longship full of angry Vikings, and quite a number of very sharp spears.

That vision is the only thing stopping him from launching himself across the table to where England is standing red-faced and haughty, and tearing out those stupid eyebrows hair by hair.

Well, that and the fact that his entire body hurts so much he can barely move. Which means launching is rather out of the question.

And of course there’s the presence of Norway, who keeps shooting Iceland concerned sideways glances when he’s not watching England rant with a blank transfixion. Denmark, Finland, and Sweden are in the room too. Iceland would never lose control of himself like that in front of them. Not when he’s already smoldering with shame as England’s words deal blow after blow to his shattered pride.

This scathing tirade is nothing more than the latest development in the constant mortification that’s been Iceland’s life for the past couple weeks. Ever since his banks crashed, it’s been nothing short of hell. He’s acutely aware that the rest of the world has been watching him struggle with varying degrees of sympathy and dark humor. Applying to the IMF was embarrassing. Going delirious with fever was even more so. But it was being forced to accept so much help from other countries that had really done it for him. At this point, he almost couldn’t bring himself to care.


It’s frustrating. He feels so helpless. He really has screwed up, and there’s nothing he can do about it. All he has to defend is empty pride. And so he’s obliged to listen to England lecture him as though he were a stupid, ignorant child. Even though he’s definitely not the only country to have screwed up economically in recent months. Even though he’s not the underlying cause of this recession as a whole. None of it matters, because the entire world is already feverish and grumpy and now they’re having to pay to save him.

The shame, the frustration, and the vulnerability—not to mention the illness—are crushing Iceland’s heart to dust. But he is determined to sit there, calm and stoic, with the same bored, mildly defiant expression as insult after insult is thrown his way. He is, by nature, proud, even when he has nothing left to be proud of.

He’s a half-frozen volcanic island. He’s used to life being tough. He can handle anything.

“…can’t let this slide!” England is shouting. He bangs his fist on the desk for effect, his flushed face clashing almost comically with his green tie. “Do you realize how many countries are having to suffer for your stupidity? Just look around you at the—”

He breaks off mid-sentence as the door opens, his big stupid eyebrows flying up and then down like convulsing caterpillars. He opens his mouth, shuts it, adjusts his tie, and then says cordially, “Good, I had been wondering when you would show up.”

The other Nordics have turned to look at the new arrival. Norway doesn’t look surprised, but then again he never looks much of anything. Sweden looks absolutely murderous—nothing new. Finland is sighing and shaking his head. Denmark, who had been busily taking apart a pen, suddenly brightens.

Iceland stares at the doorway and suddenly England and banks and crises and loans don’t matter. There’s a ball of ice in his throat and everybody seems too close, much too close.

Iceland can handle anything. Except this.

And Such Are The Consequences 1b/?

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Op here!

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oh god

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Denmark/Ireland - Secret of Kells

(Anonymous) 2010-10-16 12:38 am (UTC)(link)
Anon recently had the great pleasure of watching the movie Secret of Kells. It takes place in ninth century Ireland, revolving around the creation of the Book of Kells, a young boy and a fairy he meets in the forest, all while the threat of the vikings hangs over Ireland.

Naturally this got anon hungering for some Ireland fic during this time period and Denmark/Ireland is a fave rarepair.

So something either based off the film or a fic set during the period of viking raids would be awesome :D (girl!Ireland is preferred, but male is okay).

Re: Denmark/Ireland - Secret of Kells

(Anonymous) 2010-10-16 01:37 am (UTC)(link)
Seconded with all my Celtic might!

Denmark/fem!Ireland is <3

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Germany/France - EU husband and wife

(Anonymous) 2010-10-16 12:39 am (UTC)(link)
Requesting some modern Germany/France! Smut appreciated, but anything else domestic is welcome XD e.g. a couple's spat, making breakfast etc.

Bonus: Calling each other Frankreich and Allemagne

Quiet Mornings (1/3)

(Anonymous) 2010-10-17 01:35 pm (UTC)(link)
Just a little bit of a thing I whipped up. Not a fail?

It was a quiet moment, on a quiet day. One that would never go on the history books.

Allemagne … what would you like for lunch tomorrow?” There was a soft smile in Francis’ voice as he turned to the counter.

Ludwig did not reply, but he did look up from his paper, through his slim reading glasses, and blush. It had been … going on a couple of years, now, but he was still unused to the sight of Francis (long-limbed, slender Francis) in his kitchen and in his life.

It had taken them so long – so much shattered pride and so many scars – to get to this point. To this quiet kitchen at breakfast time, with Francis in a sensible apron and hair tied back making his lunch. Ludwig put down his coffee and newspaper quietly, giving into this dangerous, smothering urge that was making his heart beat faster.

Alle-” The rest of Francis’ statement disappeared into the air as he felt Ludwig’s arms snake around his waist and a shy kiss pressed to the back of his neck. Even to Francis, who had loved and lost so many times, this felt like … bliss, enough so to bring an embarrassingly besotted smile to his face. “Allemagne, do you have a thing for my tied hair?” Francis chided gently.

“I just…I…” Ludwig stammered, resting his forehead against the soft curve of Francis’ neck.

All these years, Francis shook his head ruefully, leaning back into that warm embrace, And Allemagne was still so scared. So tentative, every touch gentle. So hesitant to make an affectionate move. But he was learning, Francis thought, smiling, learning that his beloved husband liked to be held and touched and petted, and would return the favor quite nicely.

Ah, and the hair thing. Whenever Francis swept up his hair in a brisk ponytail, Ludwig would come around like a cat towards milk.

The kitchen was warm, with a muted brightness that encouraged lounging about and savoring the slide of skin against skin. Their home, their home, was all honeyed wood and dark green, Francis’ flamboyant boots nestling comfortably against Ludwig’s sensible loafers. Outside came the ardent barks and yips of Ludwig’s German Shepherds as they frolicked in the yard.

The sun was sliding towards noon, but really, they had all day. Although Ludwig was normally an early riser, on their free days they usually slept in quite late. For good reason, Francis thought, with a quirk of his lips dangerously reminiscent of his lecherous past. His hands continued to slice tomatoes.

Ludwig seemed content to stay there all day, softening into the curve of Francis’ back, his breathing slow and fond. He loved the scent of Francis - roses wet with rainwater. “Frankreich,” He mumbled, unthinkingly, his brain flooding with words his mouth didn’t seem able to form. Dangerous words. Ludwig blushed hot, glad that Francis couldn’t see him.

Quiet Mornings (2/3)

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Sweden/Finland - Beauty & The Beast

(Anonymous) 2010-10-16 12:43 am (UTC)(link)
Anon would love to see Sufin based on the disney version, though in the general sense. Like instead of Finland staying to save his father, he stays to save his friend Estonia.
It starts out a bit rough and sweden doesn't seem to realize how badly he scares finland but the others in his castle help him out.

Bonus 1: The rest of the Nordics and Sealand show up
Bonus 2: Russia is Gaston and wants Finland to become one with him

Title Pending...

(Anonymous) 2010-11-23 01:53 pm (UTC)(link)
Do you know? They say that once, a long time ago when our grandfathers were but babes in their mothers’ arms, that the old castle in the north was not overrun with the forest, as it is now. For once, long ago, the castle was in its prime, for those who lived in it were at their prime. Yes, bloodthirsty and vicious folk one and all, they lived for fighting, and when they had expanded their territory all across these three close islands they reached across the seas and took what they could there. Storms hampered them not, nor disaster or hurt or even death. They would not back down unless there was no other way. They were nigh unstoppable, for even the women of this race stood proud and tall, for who gave birth to warriors if not them? For constant warring with others had its benefits as well, for those who returned home had no wish to fight amongst themselves, and these three islands were unusually peaceful even though the people’s blood ran hot and thick with fighting and bloodlust.

Perhaps their reach grew too far, their grip unstable. Perhaps there were those who no longer wished to fight, whose hearts were far too broken when saddles returned empty and shields returned broken. Perhaps there was a battle between themselves. No one fully knows, for everyone involved was killed, murdered, their bodies destroyed and no trace left of themselves. All anyone knows is that the sky turned black, the sound of the god’s hammer resounded and terrible light-fires raced down from the sky and burned all they touched.

But there is a rumour, as there always is. For you see, even this terrible warrior-race had royalty. And they say that the prince was beautiful. They say that his hair was like snow-dawn, and his eyes like snow-sky. And they say that this prince was terrible, the finest fighter in the entire land with a heart entirely frozen by the ice that encircles these three islands. They say that on the dawning day of the tragedy, a prince from the land across the sea rode through a village near the castle. They say that this prince had eyes of green-spring, and hair of clouded-noon. But far more importantly, they say that this prince was a witch, and that his ties with the Otherworld were deeper and more terrible than anything that our three islands produced. And they say that the prince returned as the sky turned black, riding like a demon-possessed, light-fires closing his path behind him. And they say that his eyes were … Not. Not human, not Otherworld just … Not.

And they say that when the villagers finally ventured forth, the castle stands as we see it now. And there was nothing, no people, no bodies, just nothing, as though everyone had gone mere minutes beforehand.

But they say that some saw movements from those that should not be moving, that the things of the palace moved with a new life when no one was looking, and that the roar of a terrible, unseen Thing echoed throughout the palace.

Did you know? That is what they say.

Yeah, this might take a while…. BTW, not the anon who offered. Vaguely Viking world, I apologize for everything that I have gotten terribly wrong. Listening repeatedly to this: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wh8OL_4B3sE&feature=related Also, lol, Sweden’s colouring reflects his flag.

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OP here

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Prussia - The Wolpertinger

(Anonymous) 2010-10-16 12:55 am (UTC)(link)

During the Oktoberfest, Prussia, after some beer, goes to see the Wolpertinger.

Bonus: together with France and Spain.
Bonus 2: Bavaria. He exists and give him a little love too.

Re: Prussia - The Wolpertinger

(Anonymous) 2010-10-16 02:54 am (UTC)(link)
Ahaha, the Wolpertinger! This brings back WoW memories... Oh by the way, SECONDED LIKE FFFFFFF-

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FrUk - 100 Years War

(Anonymous) 2010-10-16 12:58 am (UTC)(link)
Violent battle field rape on both sides, periods of loving and all around screaming matches: The 100 Years War.

Basically asking for smut, but anything and everything else would be wonderful!




Bonus: During one attempted invasions, the English King designed a flag for when he was king of both countries, as an insult. A combination of the English Lions and French Fleur-de-Lis. Just a fleeting mention?

Swordpoint (1/?)

(Anonymous) 2010-11-18 10:45 pm (UTC)(link)
((This is Crece... I'll do Agincourt and Formigny later, OP~))


France ducked under a wild slicing of a broadsword and bearly twisted out of the way of an incoming arrow, somehow in the process spinning around and slashing another attacker straight through the chain mail round his neck. The man was dead before he could blink and fell straight into his comrade behind him, effectively killing two birds with one stone.

France would have been proud – in fact, he was momentarily tempted to strike a triumphant pose – had there not been ten new soldiers crawling from the woodwork for every little rosbif he killed. He barely had a moment to catch his breath before he was on the defense again, arrows flying at him from all directions the sounds of battle raging in his ears.

This was ridiculous, he mused to himself, as he slid to the side of a well-aimed swipe. He outnumbered that fucking putain by what… ten to one, if not more? He should be dominating. Fuck England and his fucking longbows. Fuck England and his fucking army. Fuck England.

He didn’t even see the sword coming. In one fluid, clandestine movement, someone had wrapped an arm around his torso and pressed a fine, sharpened sword to his throat. It glinted dangerously in the sunlight, as if speaking to him of his impending death, and knicked at the skin on his tensed Adam’s apple.

A low, chilling voice whispered in his ear. “What brings you to Crece, France?”

Merde, France swore, this rosbif knew who he was. He must be royalty or of some importance, then. He swallowed thinly, careful not to lean into the sword.

“Same as you, I’d imagine,” he responded suavely, attempting to mask his tense fear with casual arrogance. “Although as you’ve probably deduced, I’m here to kill the Anglais, while I assume you’re here for the opposite –”

The sword pressed deeper into his throat, this time hard enough to draw a steady stream of blood. The crimson warmth spilled in a tiny stream down his throat, pooling at the collar of his uniform.

“Your impudence is not appreciated, frog.”

“Why don’t you kill me, then?” France tensed and waited for the blade to slit his throat. He really wasn’t up for a near-death experience at the moment, nor explaining to the befuddled medics how he had survived a fatal wound and that no, he was not the devil. But, c’est la vie.

But the death blow never came. France didn’t realise he had shut his eyes until he opened them again, a light smirk creeping onto his dirtied, bloodied face.

“Not going to kill me, then? How kind.”

He felt the sword tremble against his neck, as though its wielder was trembling as well. Interessant.

“Alors,” he taunted, “Do I at least get to see the beautiful face of my kind saviour?”

The man wordlessly removed the sword from his throat. But before France could turn around to face him, he was shoved face first into the ground, the tip of the sword pressing into the back of his neck. A boot stomped down on his spine, drawing a slight gasp of pain, and then the speaker leaned down to whisper in his ear.

“I may not have killed you, but I’ll teach you not to be defiant, frog.”

He heard the whoosh of the sword through the air, but instead of a rush of pain and the warmth of his blood, he felt the cold air against the bare skin of his lower back. A moment later the same sensation occurred in his legs, and he felt the thick fabric of his military tights slipping to the ground around his thighs.

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Anyone/Anyone - FEI WEG

(Anonymous) 2010-10-16 01:01 am (UTC)(link)
So maybe it's a few days late.. but I'd like to see something about the World Equestrian Games.

Anything goes, really.

Re: Anyone/Anyone - FEI WEG

(Anonymous) 2010-10-16 03:16 am (UTC)(link)
Does OP have any favorite characters in particular or ships you just can't stand?

America, Russia - Super strength

(Anonymous) 2010-10-16 01:04 am (UTC)(link)
America's super strength is forgotten in a lot of fics.

That one part where he picks up a buffalo and twirls it over his head? I'd like to see him do that, only with Russia instead.

Thanks, anons!

McSlam [1/1]

(Anonymous) 2010-10-18 02:22 am (UTC)(link)
America was happily chowing down on his burger in the middle of McDonald’s, not a care in the world, when suddenly, his world went black. He blinked in surprise when he realized that there was a hand over his eyes and a hand on his back and oh no someone was trying to kidnap him!

“Unhand me you fiend!” America shouted and grabbed the hand over his eyes, twirled once, twice, three times, before letting go and hearing a crash as a large body collided with the wall.

A familiar large body. Covered in a long, tan coat. A scarf trailing behind.

“Oh, fuck,” America swore and jumped from his seat, running over to the motionless lump on the ground.

“Yo,” America said, poking the lump with his foot. “Yo, Russia, dude, get up.” He nudged him again, discreetly looking around to see if anyone had noticed. If any of the fellow diners had, they were ignoring them now. “You ok?”

Russia moaned and looked up at America, placing his hand over America’s foot to stop the nudging. “You do not like surprises,” he said matter of factly.

America chuckled, rubbing the back of his head. “Want a burger?”

Russia rolled his eyes and got to his feet. How like America to try to change the subject. “You are paying.”

“As if.” America stuck his tongue out at Russia but walked to the counter anyway, pulling out his wallet along the way.

Short fill is short but I hope it amused, OP!

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Re: McSlam [1/1]

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Kumajirou/Fem!Canada - Bestiality

(Anonymous) 2010-10-16 01:14 am (UTC)(link)
I'd like to see something where Kumajirou's animal instinct takes over and he ends up mating with Canako. I'd like it to start with dub-con, where Canako is turned on but disturbed because he's an animal, but eventually she gives into the pleasure.

Bonus: According to Wikipedia when polar bears mate "Partners stay together and mate repeatedly for an entire week." So yeah.

Chuffed (1/3)

(Anonymous) 2010-10-25 12:21 pm (UTC)(link)
Canada trailed her fingers down a pine branch as she walked by, smiled. The Netherlands had been right, she'd needed a break, and what better time than April? After the sugar sappers but before the mosquitoes and black flies and stupid tourists. Sure, it still got a little cold at night, but this far into the woods it was just her and Kumawhat'sit and growing things.

She turned left down the game trail, angling back toward her cabin, Kumagoro ambling behind. Which was unusual in and of itself - he usually preferred to laze on the bed. But here he was, shadowing her through the trees, stopping to sniff at her trail every now and then.

She didn't think she'd stepped in anything interesting, but it wouldn't be the first time. Ah well, she'd just brush her boots off before she took them inside.

She crouched next to a pile of sign - rabbit droppings from the size. Kumajoker leaned against her side, made a soft noise when she absently scritched behind his ear. There hadn't been any hares in the area the last time she visited this camp; it might be worth a shot to set some snares while she was here. It'd give her something to eat other than canned food, at least. There were game trails all around the cabin, and if she left one on the far side, one on the edge of that clearing with the old maple-

Kumakoko pushed closer and she fell sideways, arms wind milling before she overbalanced and landed in the loam. "Hey!"

He looked down at her as she sat up, and looked positively offended when she rapped his nose.

"That wasn't nice."

"I'm not Canada," he said.

"Of course you aren't," she said as she picked herself up, dusted off her hands on her jeans, "but that's no reason to be rude."

He snorted, and nuzzled her hip in what was probably the closest she'd get to an apology.

She sighed, and set back off down the trail; let herself be distracted by thoughts of supper and the smell of wet, warming earth.

~ ~ ~

She woke part-way through the night, after moon-set. Oh right, the fire. She pulled a blanket around herself and slipped out of bed, careful not to jostle Kumajiko. She took a piece of firewood and pushed it over the coals, then another. She could have sworn she'd banked it well... Eh, whatever. She was awake now, may as well enjoy the quiet.

She settled herself on the rug, woven cotton worn soft from years of use, and leaned against the leg of the table. It was nice, actually. There were spring peepers singing in the creek outside, and the crack of the birch wood catching flame was comforting. She watched the fire spread, then reached with the poker and stirred the coals. Added another piece - maple, this time, from a tree that had come down last autumn.

She rested her hands on her belly as the fire grew again, warming the small cabin and flickering heat over her exposed skin. She let the blanket fall from her shoulders, breathed in the smell of wood smoke. Her eyes closed and her head tilted back, against the table leg. Fingers drifted down to play with the blonde curls between her thighs, skimmed lightly over her labia. Better than nice, to be alone in the woods like this, no paperwork to be done or appointments to prepare for or bosses to listen to - just her and Kumihoro and the boreal forest.

Her fingers pushed deeper, up and down her slit, circling her vagina before pressing lightly on her clit. She slid down the table leg, blanket bunching as she shifted her hips for a better angle. Much better than nice - her free hand rubbed along her hip bone while her other spread moisture around, up over her clit, and- Oh.

Chuffed (2/3)

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Chuffed (3/3, END)

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OP here

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USUK- Loosing A Colony Really Hurts

(Anonymous) 2010-10-16 01:26 am (UTC)(link)
Annoyed that yet again England hasn't come to his birthday party, America goes looking for him...
Only to find England in agonising pain that lasts the whole of the 4th of July but stops the moment it becomes the 5th.
England refuses to explain but when America does some digging he discovers that this is something that happens to all ex-colonisers on the anniversaries of their colonies' independence. Their colonies leaving feels like they're having bits of themselves amputated.
The next anniversary of an independence, America shows up and major comforting ensues.

Bonus: The reason England never told America is because he doesn't want to spoil his birthday.
Bonus2: Other ex-colonies find out, having never been told about this before.

Weep, Little Lion Man 1a/?

(Anonymous) 2010-12-13 06:32 pm (UTC)(link)
“Oh Artie it’s my birthday next week and of course all people must attend the Hero’s birthday next week you know that right?”

“I’d have preferred a more warm greeting over the phone than random babble.”

“Yeah, yeah, old man, but you totally can’t resist coming this year right because they’ll be awesome cake and awesome fireworks and you’ll be such a loser to miss all that right?”

“Promising me with ‘fireworks’ and ‘cake’ is not going to make me feel anymore obliged to go.”

“.. So are you coming?”


“But Ar—“

“DO NOT try and whine at me again. I’ve never even attended any of your blasted birthday parties; what makes you think I’m going to start now?”

“--There’s no reason for you not to come! Why are you always such an ass about this? It was years ago!”

“I’m not talking about this anymore.”

“… Arthur? … England? … You goddamn moron of a limey bastard don’t hang up on me!—“


He didn’t need him. No siree.

Alfred could manage just fine on his birthday without that weirdo of a Brit, anyway. He would have plenty of fun with all the other nations that would be there. There would be fireworks and cake and colour and music and he would just overall have a great time! He deserved it, one hundred percent. America had had a hard year. His preparations had started as soon as he got home the day before and everything was of course, going as awesomely as usual under the Hero’s care. Nothing was going to stop him from enjoying his birthday, no doubt. He’d get down to work, no matter what certain limeys insisted to try and ruin his day.

He was fine.

Alfred found himself staring through a mirror.

Today was 4th of July in the year 2010. He would be turning 224 as an official country. That was two hundred and twenty years of him being an adult.

It was two hundred and twenty four times without him turning up.

Alfred used to understand this act. He was across an ocean; it was rather a far way to travel for just a birthday party, especially when there were a lot of things going on.

But as the years passed, Alfred couldn’t understand why Arthur couldn’t so much as send a present or even a card over, just to wish him such. And as time went by and travelling became a lot easier – it took, what, seven hours to fly over now? It built up on the American like algae being washed up on a dismal beach. But times were changing, maybe Arthur honestly was just that busy?...

This year, however, just threw it over the line. Arthur was in America on the day of his birthday. There had been a meeting just the day before, Arthur having attended it and he wasn’t due to head back home till the next weekend. It was perfect; he could’ve just dropped by, given a present, and heck, he didn’t even have to hang around that long if he didn’t want to.

But after the phone call yesterday, it looked like he was going to skip out on this too.

Why was he still so hung up about this? Why hadn’t he got over it already? Sure, he probably hurt him really bad throwing all that on him and fighting for his freedom but it was a necessity – and it was certainly no reason to still be sulking over it.

Alfred blinked suddenly, before looking down at his hand. His glasses had bent themselves in half as he’d clenched his fist.

This was the last straw.

Twisting them quickly back into shape, Alfred threw a frown at his reflection before he stormed downstairs, leaving the door unlocked for all the countries that would be flooding in any minute now. He usually left them to their own thing.

Alfred was about to bring his own invitee to his party whether he liked it or not.


Re: Weep, Little Lion Man 1b/?

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Re: Weep, Little Lion Man 1b/?

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Re: Weep, Little Lion Man 1b/?

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Weep, Little Lion Man 2a/?

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Spain/Austria - Reflecting on their past marriage.

(Anonymous) 2010-10-16 01:31 am (UTC)(link)

I would like to make a Spain/Austria request (in that order) with a modern setting, and in some situation they end up talking about their Habsburg history.

Now, because this is a kink meme and there is the chance of smut, this anon likes:
-Very vocal sex.
-Strangling( /breathplay, but I prefer the more "hands on" approach ;> ).

Why, you ask? Because USUK gets all the good kinks. Lol.

Re: Spain/Austria - Reflecting on their past marriage.

(Anonymous) 2010-10-16 01:40 am (UTC)(link)
Seconding hard! if not attempting one day...

Re: Spain/Austria - Reflecting on their past marriage.

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SwitzerlandXTaiwan- cute

(Anonymous) 2010-10-16 01:31 am (UTC)(link)
(I was 99.8% sure that Taiwan was voiced by the same va as Winry Rockbell but wiki says it is Seychelles. But I like Taiwan more so Taiwan it is.)

A sweet moment with Switzerland admiring Taiwan from afar at a World Metting or whatever. Cute and awkward Switzerland PLEASE.

Bonus: If Austria catches him and Switz denies it. But being his former best friend, Austria knows better than what Switzerland shows.


(Anonymous) 2010-11-25 04:13 am (UTC)(link)
It's really short, and I didn't get to Austria, unfortunately.

Re: comicfill

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Re: comicfill

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Re: comicfill

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Any - Small Pleasures

(Anonymous) 2010-10-16 01:33 am (UTC)(link)
I'd like to see something about a nation's small pleasures that don't have to do with their relationships. For example, maybe how much England enjoys a quiet cup of tea, or Prussia petting Gilbird or something. Doesn't have to be those, of course. Any character. Multi-fills are wonderful and totally short is fine.

Re: Any - Small Pleasures

(Anonymous) 2010-10-16 05:15 am (UTC)(link)
To Canada there was nothing quiet like skating. The feeling of pure speed and smoothless grace as he glided across the ice was pure freedom to him.

And there was nothing better to do when skating, than play a nice informal game of hockey. Nothing better to help wear away the stress of being a nation.

"VEEEE!" Italy screamed as he cowered in the goal net, a white flag waving in his hand. "Don't hit me!"

The puck whipped furiously across the ice, as Canada crossed sticks with Russia in a heated battle for the round piece of rubber.

Norway and Sweden had already gotten into a fist fight over a disputed shot.

America was sitting on the side waiting for the tooth Canada knocked out to grow back.

Vietnam surprisingly, had "accidently" nailed France across the head with her stick, and Belarus was closing in on Canada's ass in a fanatically attempt to aid her brother.

A grinned a vicious grin. Yup! Nothing better.


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In a Warm Place...

(Anonymous) - 2010-10-19 17:27 (UTC) - Expand

Fail!anon fails

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Escape Into Earl Grey

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Re: Escape Into Earl Grey

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Re: Telmark

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Re: Artery

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Re: Artery

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"Everything Imaginable"

(Anonymous) - 2010-10-18 03:28 (UTC) - Expand


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Re: "Everything Imaginable"

(Anonymous) - 2010-10-20 02:29 (UTC) - Expand

Pas de Deux

(Anonymous) - 2010-10-19 08:55 (UTC) - Expand

Pas de Deux - notes

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Re: Pas de Deux

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Re: Pas de Deux

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Re: Pas de Deux

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Re: Pas de Deux

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Germany - A Fine Day in Spring

(Anonymous) - 2010-10-19 12:59 (UTC) - Expand

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Re: Germany - A Fine Day in Spring

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Re: OP

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Italy - Feel the Shine

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Re: Italy - Feel the Shine

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Música Hermosa

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Re: Música Hermosa

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Re: Música Hermosa

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The Highest of Asking Prices

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Re: The Highest of Asking Prices

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Re: The Highest of Asking Prices

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Re: The Highest of Asking Prices

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Prussia: To Write Is To Be (1/2)

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Re: Prussia: To Write Is To Be (2/2)

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Romano - Sour

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Re: Romano - Sour

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Re: Romano - Sour

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The Permanence of Impermanence

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A successful hunt

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Like Magic

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Little things

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Re: Bliss

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Skies of blue and fields of gold

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Re: Skies of blue and fields of gold

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It starts with an "R", ends with a "G"

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Re: It starts with an "R", ends with a "G"

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Re: It starts with an "R", ends with a "G"

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Re: It starts with an "R", ends with a "G"

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Re: It starts with an "R", ends with a "G"

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Good Morning, Sweden

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Australia: Follow Me, Everything Is Alright

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Bond - Azerbaijan

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Re: Bond - Azerbaijan

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Re: Bond - Azerbaijan

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Re: Any - Small Pleasures-Lost In a Silent Ballet

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Re: Any - Small Pleasures-Lost In a Silent Ballet

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GerIta - Italy's phimosis

(Anonymous) 2010-10-16 01:34 am (UTC)(link)
Italy is a pretty confident guy, but there's one thing that he's really insecure about - his phimosis. Italy keeps initiating things with Germany, but backing off when they get too close to sex. Germany thinks he's doing something wrong, and eventually works up the courage to ask about it. Italy tells him about his insecurity, and he assures Italy that he doesn't care and helps him seek treatment (which he's been too embarrassed to do).

Bonus: One way to treat it is to manually stretch the foreskin every day. Italy decides to treat it this way and makes Germany help him.
Bonus 2: Italy's phimosis came about from scarring from forced retraction of the foreskin as a child. How that happened is up to anon. Maybe from a failed attempt at sex with HRE? Anyway, the memory adds to his insecurity.

Kink Meme: Something's Different. [1a/?]

(Anonymous) 2010-11-06 06:43 am (UTC)(link)


Sitting on his bed in only a black wifebeater and his red underwear, Germany nearly cried out in alarm when he felt a stack of stapled paper bounce off the back of his head and rebound onto the floor in a crumpling, tumbling mess.


One of the things that Germany had actually gotten quite proud of himself for over the years, despite how trivial it seemed in the big picture, was how utterly used to Italy's craziness he had become. Had he invited Italy into his house? Not this week. Had he heard even the smallest sign from his best friend that he was planning on visiting his house uninvited, yet again? No, they hadn't even had the chance to speak in a while.

But with Italy, you never know, and because he was here now, and Germany hadn't known, he took the surprise with minimum recoil. The select few Germans from work who kept up with his life greatly admired this of him.

Not even bothering to turn and face his likely underclothed friend, Germany reached down to the floor and picked up the packet of paper, straightening it back as neatly as he could manage. "What is this about?" he asked tiredly. So much for a head start in sleep, anyway.

"I printed it from the internet-- Germany, I just found out what it's called!" There went the bounce on his bed as Italy thumped onto it and wrapped his arms around Germany's shoulders from behind. "Oh, and also hello, Germany! It's so nice to see you!"

Germany grunted, patting Italy's arm vaguely, and finally focused on the title of the article. He squinted for a moment; Italy always forgot that written words were not in Common and his Italian fell shamefully below his expecta--

". . . Phimosis?" Germany read, feeling the cold fingers of dread crawling all over him. It was going to be one of those nights. He coughed, hoping his awkwardness would fall out of his throat as he did. "Italy, is there any reason, in the middle of the night, that you are making me read about--" momentary choke, this was excruciatingly awkward, "-- problems in foreskin retraction?" My God, he'd said it.

Silence followed his question, drawing out so long that Germany finally turned to look his friend in the face, and found it less than an inch away from his head, squinting at him with a look of deepest despair and disappointment. His heart gave a thump so loud that he felt his sternum bruise from the impact.

"What. . . what?"

"Germany." The smallest little tears were forming at the corners of Italy's eyes, and Germany's mind started running in confused circles. Where had the conversation gone and how had it gotten here?

"Wh- what is it! What's wrong! Can't you tell me?"

"Germany," Italy repeated, even more distressed than before. His arms slid off of Germany's shoulders, and he leaned back, posture dead serious. He was even wearing a large t-shirt which covered his body, which was rare, and was pulling it down to cover his legs. "Germany, you've forgotten?"

Goddamn, what had Germany forgotten?

Italy understood the bewildered stare Germany was unknowingly giving him and looked away self-consciously, fiddling with the bottom of his shirt again. "Germany, I don't want to tell you again, it was back in the war, you don't remember?"

"Many things happened in. . . in the war, Italy. I don't want to remember most of it."

Italy's head snapped up at the subtle break in Germany's voice, letting out a quiet "oh!" and looking even more sorry than ever. He bit his lip. "It's. . ." he squeaked and looked away again, shrinking in on himself. "M-mine, it's different from yours, that's. . . that's what I told you." He curled his legs underneath his body and pulled the large t-shirt over his knees.

Kink Meme: Something's Different. [1b/?]

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Kink Meme: Something's Different. [1c/?]

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Venice!North Italy, seduction

(Anonymous) 2010-10-16 01:38 am (UTC)(link)
For a long time, Venice was a driving force and a superpower in the Mediterranean -sometimes trying to subtly "seduce" the other countries to its side, sometimes harshly fighting - you can probably guess I'd like to see a bit more of the first thought. It was also a very free place, a haven for people prosecuted by the Inquisition, very sexually liberated, etc.

Basically, I want badass, sexy Venice!Italy. If there's smut, I'd prefer no shota, but teen!Italy is very welcome. But - here's the trick - he has to remain at least somewhat in character.

Bonus the second: fighting over Greece, and Greece shows to prefer Turkey sometimes, and Venice some other times but overall would just prefer them both to leave him the fuck alone

Re: Venice!North Italy, seduction

(Anonymous) 2010-10-16 03:23 am (UTC)(link)
Ottoman-Venetian wars over Greece, fuck yeah! (plus Greece rebelling during them and getting crushed each time)


afskj seconded!

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USUK - Stripping

(Anonymous) 2010-10-16 01:40 am (UTC)(link)
US x UK involving stripping please!

- Accidentally mistaken as strippers, and go along with it
- Having to strip off their clothes unwilling (for national security, clothes were ruined, etc)

Anon is requesting embarrassed nudity

Bonus is there are embarrassing undergarments and teasing.

No established please.

Sex doesn't have to happen (but it's very welcome :D)

Re: USUK - Stripping

(Anonymous) 2010-10-18 09:17 pm (UTC)(link)
Hmmm... Potential filler of a short oneshot or something here, not sure about sex yet.
Just have to ask the OP: Does OP mind Gakuen Hetalia universe? Because Anon has a great idea that stemmed from a chemistry safety video, involving emergency chemical showers.

Don't ask.

Re: USUK - Stripping

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England/one of his mystical creatures

(Anonymous) 2010-10-16 01:42 am (UTC)(link)
I think the only person England can be happy with is... himself. And his imagination. So, I'd like to see him fall in love with one of his little friends.

Bonus: The creature he falls in love with is the one that inspires him to keep cooking even though everyone tells him his cooking is awful. The creature loves his cooking.

Re: England/one of his mystical creatures

(Anonymous) 2010-10-16 07:35 am (UTC)(link)
dear god so cuuuute second! lol like how america can only love lady liberty and justice XD

Re: England/one of his mystical creatures

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Any Characters- Bromances IT'S GUY LOVE MAN

(Anonymous) 2010-10-16 01:43 am (UTC)(link)
actual bros, notactualbros but the relationship has felt like bros, female and male with bro-like relationship
do with it what you will

Broseidon, Lord of the Brocean - 1/2

(Anonymous) 2010-10-17 07:45 am (UTC)(link)
“Spot me.”

He moves behind her, a lazy grin on his face as he watches her slide another weight to the end of the metal cross bar. “You’re never gonna be able to lift that.”

“Shut up, yes I will.” She finishes with the plates and ties her hair up, her usual flower replaced today with a sensible scrunchy to keep the sweat from soaking into her bangs. “It’s only a hundred pounds.” She sits down on bench and rolls her shoulders, neck cracking, and lies back, reaching up to wrap her fingers around the bar. “Now spot me.”

He rolls his eyes and takes his place behind her. “I’ve got a beer that says you drop that on your face before you can lift it.”

“Well then,” she huffs. “I suppose that would make you the world’s worst spotter, wouldn’t it?”

“Guess it probably would. Fine, I’ve got a beer that says that you’re still a dainty maiden and that much weight is gonna crush your ass.”

“You’re on.” She shifts up on the bench. “But none of that Danish piss of yours. I want a German beer.”

He leans over her and smirks. “That’s cute.”

“And your face is in the way of my workout. Now, move.”

He waves a mock salute to her and straightens back out, both hands hovering just above her on either side as she breathes deep and lifts the weight out of it’s cradle, balancing it for a moment before she draws it down to her chest and lifts it again. He whistles, clearly impressed.

“Wooow,” he drawls. “I’ll admit, that’s pretty good. You make it to ten and I might buy you two beers.”

“Shut it,” she grunts and pushes the bar up again. “I’ve got this.”

“Good form, too.” He leans around the bench, wiggling his eyebrows. “Real nice form.”

She shoots the ceiling an annoyed look. “Denmark.” The bar comes down again. “Seriously.” Up again. She feels a bead of sweat slip down the small of her back. Maybe this was a bit too much.

“That’s three. You’re almost half done.”

She exhales loudly and brings it above her chest again. Her biceps are beginning to burn. She tries to keep focused; counts the lines that crisscross above her on the gym skylights, the fuzzy bits of Velcro the poke out from her lifting gloves, anything but the number of reps she has left.

“Okay, that’s five, doin’ good.” His face comes into view again and he grins down at her. “Come on, five more, you’ve got this.”

She makes it to six and her arms start to shake. She curses. “I don’t think I’m going to make it.”

“Come on, you’re almost done.” His voice brightens. “Are you seriously gonna let me win this one? Seriously?”

Down. “Shut…” Up again. “Up.” That’s seven. Sweat clings to her back, making her feel sticky against the vinyl of the bench.

“Come on, Hungary, you’ve got three left. Just three.” He’s getting louder.

She’s pretty sure her arms are on fire. She squeezes her eyes shut and strains against the effort of pulling it down again. She tries to tell him to quit yammering, but all that comes out is a tense groan as she forces it up again.

“Come on, you’ve got this. That’s eight.” He’s practically cheering. “Come on, Hungary, don’t you dare puss out on me now. Two more, you’ve got this. Two more, two more!”

Down. Up.

“One more! Come on, one more!”




Re: Broseidon, Lord of the Brocean - 1/2

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Re: Broseidon, Lord of the Brocean - 1/2

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RomanoXMexico- tomato love

(Anonymous) 2010-10-16 01:44 am (UTC)(link)
Spain introduces Mexico to Romano and finds out her history with tomatoes! Anything after that is open; I just want Mexico to be a girl. Romano flipping out and try to win her heart over after that point would be great.

Bonus: Since Spain had a big influence on Mexico, she is oblivous to Romano's advances (at first?).

If this helps: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tomato lol

forgot something orz

(Anonymous) 2010-10-16 01:49 am (UTC)(link)
Bonus dos: Bad Touch Trio find out and want to help their friend but end up making things worse for the situation.

one question

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FrUK - whipped cream; food!sex

(Anonymous) 2010-10-16 01:45 am (UTC)(link)
Kinks are whipped cream being involved in the food!sex, and established relationship + fluff?
(screened comment)

Don't do it with English cooking!

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Don't do it with English cooking! 2

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England + America + Canada, The invasion of Iceland, military action

(Anonymous) 2010-10-16 01:47 am (UTC)(link)
In may 1940, the United Kingdom invaded the neutral Iceland to prevent the Reich from taking it. The actions were in charge of the Royal Navy, the Royal Marines and a Canadian task force.

Surprisingly enough, in July 1941 (six months before Pearl Harbor) the United States disembarked on Iceland to relieved the British forces. Yes, they occupied and nation to support England while still being officially non-belligerent. They stayed there until the end of the war.

Alfred convinces his government to intervene in the war to help Arthur. I'd love to see some England/America/Canada action, not necessarily romantic (though I would not complain if the filler wants to go that way) and the dynamics between them: Canada's bravery and loyalty, America's doubts regarding the war, England's exhaustion (the Blitz happened between 6 September 1940 and 10 May 1941, by the way), you get the idea.

Useful links: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Invasion_of_Iceland

Re: England + America + Canada, The invasion of Iceland, military action

(Anonymous) 2010-10-16 04:58 am (UTC)(link)
seconded~ and man oh man, do I kind of really want to fill this

Alfred/Arthur School AU

(Anonymous) 2010-10-16 01:47 am (UTC)(link)
Basically I want to see Alfred as the student with the drunken and abusive father and missing mother. He however hides that fact from everybody (except his best friend Ludwig or Ivan) with his canon!personality and his honor roll student status.

Arthur on the other hand can be a "delinquent" whose family also isn't the greatest, but much less worse then Alfred's family. He acts out, but isn't expel/suspended because he's also one of the brightest student the school has. He finds Alfred annoying because he keeps trying to befriend Arthur and because Arthur has a huge crush on Alfred.

Then one day Alfred finds Arthur passed out on the street or sick or something and having no choice but to bring him home. Arthur wakes up and sees a scene with Alfred getting physically and emotionally abused by his father. Alfred sees that Arthur saw the scene but acts like there's nothing wrong with the situation. However eventually, it gets all too much for him and he breaks down or something.

Eventually they begin a friendship that evolves into something much more.

Bounus 1: Alfred detest alcohol because he's reminded of what alcohol did to his family.
Bonus 2: Arthur, after seeing Alfred's family, sees that his own family isn't so bad and reforms, shocking everybody
Bonus 3: Matthew, Ivan, and Ludwig are Alfred's close friends and they find out about his home life too.

Does it Rain on the Brighter Side? [1a/1]

(Anonymous) 2010-10-17 01:06 pm (UTC)(link)
So I did end you doing it...and I seriously almost bawled my eyes out because of all the idea's in my head. Its sad when USxUK has ansty stuff, I seriously cry in like every serious one. Like I said before, its a one-shot with a possible sequel, if I can get that off the ground.
*** *** ***
Damn, Matthew can be persistent, Alfred thought as he walked down the sidewalk towards his rather rundown home. With his hands in his pocket he feels the phone, Matthew begged his mother to get it Alfred, vibrate. Rolling his eyes, he figure’s its Ludwig; the German did have a soft heart deep down. If anything Matthew called him and Ivan, because Alfred seemed to listen to them more.

Continuing to ignore his phone, Alfred turned the corner. He’s rather happy it’s Friday, payday was well, he’s close to having enough money for tuition at the local college, it’s not like he’ll have any problem getting in. However he still needs money for a dorm when it comes time. If he’s lucky, his father won’t snatch up the cash tips he worked so hard to get.

Alfred frowned at the very thought. If his father did get a hold on the money that would be another hundred dollars of alcohol in their house. A hundred more dollars his father will drink. Did his father drink away his mother? Alfred growled at the sudden thought. He has money to buy an actual meal for himself, maybe his father if he doesn’t piss him off to much. He’ll probably pay one anyway for him.

His phone started vibrating again, probably Ivan, a pissed off Ivan. Alfred wants to save a few years on his life and decides not to answer the phone. Ivan can be scary, but he also knows messing with Alfred can be an unwanted hassle. So what if Ivan yells at him on Monday.

“Shit, that kid put up a fight!” Alfred heard a voice snap just around the bend that lead into the “park”. No human brought their kid there.

“Yes, it wasn’t worth five bucks, a lighter and a pack of cigarettes,” another complained, as Alfred stopped, he would rather be robbed by his father than jumped by thieves. “Dude, did you see his fucking eyebrows.”

“How could you not! Hey pass me the lighter.” The first said before the conversation shifted down the sidewalk that Alfred came around.

There was only one person who he knows would carry around five bucks, a lighter, and a pack of cigarettes and had giant eyebrows. Alfred knows he doesn’t live in this neighborhood. With a growl, Alfred figured he should see if Arthur is okay, he can lie about why he’s there, he does it at school all the time.

He found Arthur facedown the ground, his pockets clearly picked through; he’ll be pissed when he wakes up. Alfred figured that, due to the fact that he wasn’t moving and still face down on the ground. Looking him over, Alfred figured they swung something at him from behind, so Arthur wasn’t going to move till his brain fixed itself.

Crouching down beside the Englishman, Alfred assesses the damage. He knows he could leave him there, pull him behind some bushes and leave him there was a simple note, make it look like Alfred is following him around because he knows Arthur is better than how he dresses and acts. A distant cry of a storm tells him that’s not an option, because then Arthur will be sick, and a sick Arthur isn’t a fun thing according to Ludwig’s brother, Gilbert.

Does it Rain on the Brighter Side? [1b/1]

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Does it Rain on the Brighter Side? [1c/1]

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Writer!Anon-2nd fill

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Two Breaths Walking [1a/?]

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Re: Two Breaths Walking [1b/?]

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Two Breaths Walking [2A/?]

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Canada, Masturbation by abusing his Curl

(Anonymous) 2010-10-16 01:57 am (UTC)(link)
I'll go with my headcanon so I wish for Canada to masturbate by touching his curl alone.

Bonus: Someone (Nation A) is watching
Bonus 2: Canada screams someone else's name
Bonus3: That someone else is General Winter.

Better than Maple Syrup (1/3)

(Anonymous) 2010-10-29 06:53 pm (UTC)(link)
America really didn’t know why he agreed to do this for France. Had he lost a bet? Really, he didn’t remember, but it was no skin off his nose. The Frenchman could have requested something much more perverted, anyway.

“Are you sure this will work, Alfred?” France mumbled to the nation ahead of him. America rolled his eyes.

“Yes, Francis. I’ve known Matt for longer than you have, and I know that after every first day of a conference he goes back to his room alone to get off, okay? If you just keep your mouth shut we won’t get caught and your perverted fantasies will be satisfied.” America said back to him, coming to a chain link fence. “Now, we have to jump this.”

“You want moi to hop a fence like some teenager?”

“Do you want this to happen? It’s not even that hard.” America demonstrated, grabbing on the some of the links near the top and hauling himself up, his sneakers hooking in to some of the holes between the links. He climbed a bit higher and swung a leg over the top. “Just make sure you hold on. You don’t want to smash your junk on a fence, y’know.” He said with a laugh, swinging the other leg over and then dropping to the ground. “Now you try.”

France huffed and copied the American, gripping the links and slowly making his way high enough to swing a leg over the top. Once France was down, America gave him a hard thump on the back.

“See, that wasn’t hard!” America’s thump nearly caused France to fall over, but he soon straightened up.

“Yes, well, I hope we won’t have to do that again on this little adventure?” he asked, brushing his shirt and pants off. He was glad that he chose to wear jeans. One of his elaborate outfits could have gotten ripped on the fence.

“Nope! It’s just a few windows down, actually!” America pointed, and France realized they were at the back of the hotel. “C’mon! I know where Matt’s room is.”America jogged ahead and France followed in his path, glancing warily into the shadows of the building.

“Francis!” Suddenly, America was much farther ahead of him and crouching in front of a window, pointing inside. “Francis, come here! He’s right here!” Stepping carefully as to avoid making much noise, France joined America at the window.

He nearly growled at the sight that came upon him. Canada was splayed out on his hotel bed wearing only boxers, a full body flush already coloring his skin. His violet eyes were closed, but his mouth hung open for a moment before he swept his tongue across his lips and began biting at them. Even through the window, France could hear the nation’s soft moans.

“This what you wanted?” America asked, cocky smirk evident in his voice. France only nodded, pressing his forehead to the glass and he repositioned himself on his knees. Canada’s boxers—white with little maple leaves on them, he noticed—were certainly not hiding anything. A prominent tent stretched the fabric slightly, distorting the little red leaves around his crotch. Keeping his gaze on the tented fabric France moaned, excited by the mere memory of how endowed his son was—if he could call Canada that.

The two voyeurs sat in silence for some time, trying to keep quiet enough to hear Canada through the glass. Though France was the one who wanted to come here in the first place, America couldn’t deny that the view was nice. Rather than stare at his brother’s crotch like France, America’s gaze travelled up Canada’s strong chest and arms, which were tense with arousal as he held himself up on the bed. America knew that he knew better than any nation how strong Canada really was, no matter what his meek and quiet personality said about him. As the two watched, transfixed, America began to realize something.

“Hey, why isn’t he touching himself?” America asked and France raised a hand to shush him, but lowered it, as he, too, realized that Canada’s hands hadn’t even touched his body yet. Still, the northern nation seemed to be focused solely on licking and gnawing at his lips. Maybe Canada had a kink for that?

“I..am not sure…” the Frenchman mumbled.

Better than Maple Syrup (2/3)

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Better than Maple Syrup (3/3 +Notes)

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Re: Better than Maple Syrup (3/3 +Notes)

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