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Oh my who is this hat man? Also I enjoy Toris being there and acting as a conversation partner and a voice a reason. It's a very interesting dynamic. I shall patiently wait to find out the merchant's story ^^
OP likes this very much. It was very well written and you succeeded in making it hot, I assure you. I love the SuFin (FinSu, whatever) characterization you have and the little relationship fluff you put at the end was a very nice touch indeed. This was very very good quality smut XD
Would OP mind if Norway's fiance was England (or possibly Fem!England if you really want a female character)? I'll probably fill either way, because this prompt is pure gold, especially the drunk love songs!
Would smut be acceptable? Because I really want to write this.
but I might give this a go. In the meantime, Nth'd.
seconded, possible filler!
As much as there is already a fill similar to this, I might try a more serious approach than the one on FF.Net! Hopefully soon!!
I wanted to like this. Some of my favourite characters, fascinating premise with the potential for lots of depth . . . I really wanted to. But I couldn't.
You put in a lot of details that seemed fitting. 'Poetry phase' as a reason for a dry spell, Wales's accentt, England being creepily 'used to getting whar hee wanted' . . . Despite that, though, it felt utterly generic. Thee characters had no noticable voice. It coould have been a fic about two unusually-immature teenagers, one distracted by a video game. Theere were no hints of their conflicted history and no sign of any deeper connection thhan a mutual wish to fuck.
And even then, you showed one character taking advantage of another with very little self-awareness. I don't feel sorry for him or relate to him at all, yet neither is it made clear in the narritive yet how cruel he's being. I assume and hope you're going to give us some of the other character's un-mind-altered perspective later.
In short - I can see you're trying hard, and ther's potential; you have a good command of the language. But a characterization beta is very sorely needed.
You put in a lot of details that seemed fitting. 'Poetry phase' as a reason for a dry spell, Wales's accentt, England being creepily 'used to getting whar hee wanted' . . . Despite that, though, it felt utterly generic. Thee characters had no noticable voice. It coould have been a fic about two unusually-immature teenagers, one distracted by a video game. Theere were no hints of their conflicted history and no sign of any deeper connection thhan a mutual wish to fuck.
And even then, you showed one character taking advantage of another with very little self-awareness. I don't feel sorry for him or relate to him at all, yet neither is it made clear in the narritive yet how cruel he's being. I assume and hope you're going to give us some of the other character's un-mind-altered perspective later.
In short - I can see you're trying hard, and ther's potential; you have a good command of the language. But a characterization beta is very sorely needed.
Yes, anon. Yes. Second
((This is my first time on the kink meme, aaaah))
A chill leaked through where the panes met the window glass, the bedroom door met the carpet and where the blanket didn't quite meet Canada's toes. The northern nation nestled deeper into his comforter, knowing he had to wake up but not feeling particularly motivated. Laying on top of the covers near his tummy was Kuma- ...Kumachi- ...Kuma-something. The polar bear was warm, furry, and much more pleasant than the cold bathroom floor.
Still, it had to be done. Canada yawned and sat up, blinking the heaviness out of his eyes. The cold-tainted air of the room made him shiver when it hit his bare chest. He would have to find those winter pajamas some day soon or he was going to freeze in his sleep. He threw the covers off his legs and onto a dozing Kuma-bear, whom he had at this point forgotten altogether.
Being too lazy this morning to find either his slippers or a shirt, Canada sauntered into the bathroom. His toes were not happy when they left the lush bedroom carpet for the barren tile floor.
He wasn't thrilled at his reflection. 'It's been so long since I shaved,' he thought, running a hand over his stubble and producing a scratchy sound, 'I'm starting to look like Papa.' He retrieved his shaving equipment and arranged it on the counter.
Another thought hit him, 'But if I shave, I'll look like America.' Why was fate so cruel?
A chill leaked through where the panes met the window glass, the bedroom door met the carpet and where the blanket didn't quite meet Canada's toes. The northern nation nestled deeper into his comforter, knowing he had to wake up but not feeling particularly motivated. Laying on top of the covers near his tummy was Kuma- ...Kumachi- ...Kuma-something. The polar bear was warm, furry, and much more pleasant than the cold bathroom floor.
Still, it had to be done. Canada yawned and sat up, blinking the heaviness out of his eyes. The cold-tainted air of the room made him shiver when it hit his bare chest. He would have to find those winter pajamas some day soon or he was going to freeze in his sleep. He threw the covers off his legs and onto a dozing Kuma-bear, whom he had at this point forgotten altogether.
Being too lazy this morning to find either his slippers or a shirt, Canada sauntered into the bathroom. His toes were not happy when they left the lush bedroom carpet for the barren tile floor.
He wasn't thrilled at his reflection. 'It's been so long since I shaved,' he thought, running a hand over his stubble and producing a scratchy sound, 'I'm starting to look like Papa.' He retrieved his shaving equipment and arranged it on the counter.
Another thought hit him, 'But if I shave, I'll look like America.' Why was fate so cruel?
Immortalia: Story The Second - Lovers Once Upon A Dream (E)
(Anonymous) 2013-01-23 04:37 am (UTC)(link)Kiku Honda was the merchant's name, and he traveled the world for his trade. He had peddled bolts of silk in every color imaginable and spices of every conceivable flavor. He had acquired objects that were common, and some so rare he could hardly believe he held them in his hands. With all of the places he'd been to and all of the wonders he had beheld, Kiku thought that there was nothing left in the world that could possibly befuddle him.
And yet, three days ago, he encountered such a thing.
He had been traveling all day, until he entered a certain forest in a certain country. He found nothing odd about any of this at first. He had traveled through more forests than he could count, and this one seemed perfectly normal. A bit more quiet than most but he was a quiet man himself and found this appealing.
After traveling for some time, he grew weary and knew he would have to stop for the night. It was not the first time Kiku had ever had to go without the comforts of four walls and a bed while he slept, so it did not bother him in the slightest to tie his cart securely to the nearest tree and make himself comfortable on the ground.
But when he closed his eyes... that was when everything went strange.
---
"Is that it?" asked Natalia. "I'd think you could figure out for yourself that dreams can be strange. Do you really need a fortune teller for that?"
"Forgive me. We are not yet at the part that is strange," said Kiku. "Please, will you allow me to continue?"
"Not much point in refusing you now," Natalia replied. "Continue."
---
That night, Kiku dreamed of a man. There was nothing about the man that seemed out of the ordinary. He was dressed simply, with neatly-combed blond hair and a pair of spectacles delicately balanced on his nose.
Though Kiku stood right next to this man, he gave no sign of seeing the merchant. Instead, the man began to walk at a calm, steady pace through the forest.
Kiku began to follow the man without a second thought. Perhaps the man was just that compelling, or perhaps it was the sort of strange whim that strikes all dreamers. Whatever the case, Kiku believed it to be vitally important that he not let the man out of his sight.
This went on for some amount of time, with the man going wherever he was going and Kiku following after. The man stuck to the path the entire time. They eventually reached a place where the road they walked on curved suddenly, and here the man began to stray off of the road.
Well! Kiku had no idea what to make of this! He walked more quickly, determined not to lose sight of the man. Not now, not when the road was behind them and he could so easily be lost! In spite of his efforts though, the merchant found it nearly impossible to watch the man. The trees grew closer together the father in they went, and Kiku found himself constantly brushing branches and leaves out of his face. Finally, after making his way around a particularly difficult tree, he realized that he could no longer see the blond man.
And yet, three days ago, he encountered such a thing.
He had been traveling all day, until he entered a certain forest in a certain country. He found nothing odd about any of this at first. He had traveled through more forests than he could count, and this one seemed perfectly normal. A bit more quiet than most but he was a quiet man himself and found this appealing.
After traveling for some time, he grew weary and knew he would have to stop for the night. It was not the first time Kiku had ever had to go without the comforts of four walls and a bed while he slept, so it did not bother him in the slightest to tie his cart securely to the nearest tree and make himself comfortable on the ground.
But when he closed his eyes... that was when everything went strange.
---
"Is that it?" asked Natalia. "I'd think you could figure out for yourself that dreams can be strange. Do you really need a fortune teller for that?"
"Forgive me. We are not yet at the part that is strange," said Kiku. "Please, will you allow me to continue?"
"Not much point in refusing you now," Natalia replied. "Continue."
---
That night, Kiku dreamed of a man. There was nothing about the man that seemed out of the ordinary. He was dressed simply, with neatly-combed blond hair and a pair of spectacles delicately balanced on his nose.
Though Kiku stood right next to this man, he gave no sign of seeing the merchant. Instead, the man began to walk at a calm, steady pace through the forest.
Kiku began to follow the man without a second thought. Perhaps the man was just that compelling, or perhaps it was the sort of strange whim that strikes all dreamers. Whatever the case, Kiku believed it to be vitally important that he not let the man out of his sight.
This went on for some amount of time, with the man going wherever he was going and Kiku following after. The man stuck to the path the entire time. They eventually reached a place where the road they walked on curved suddenly, and here the man began to stray off of the road.
Well! Kiku had no idea what to make of this! He walked more quickly, determined not to lose sight of the man. Not now, not when the road was behind them and he could so easily be lost! In spite of his efforts though, the merchant found it nearly impossible to watch the man. The trees grew closer together the father in they went, and Kiku found himself constantly brushing branches and leaves out of his face. Finally, after making his way around a particularly difficult tree, he realized that he could no longer see the blond man.
How does OP feel about AU setting and GerIta?
You put in a lot of details that seemed fitting. 'Poetry phase' as a reason for a dry spell, Wales's accentt, England being creepily 'used to getting whar hee wanted' . . . Despite that, though, it felt utterly generic. Thee characters had no noticable voice.
See, those details to me were enough. I don't think it's fair to say it's "utterly generic" when you're consciously ignoring the bits that were character markers. Wales doesn't have to smell like a mixture of coal and sheep and talk about his dragon or have a phonetically written accent to be Wales.
Theere were no hints of their conflicted history and no sign of any deeper connection thhan a mutual wish to fuck.
You could say that about several fics on the kink meme. There was a SuFin recently that was just pure porn. There's a fic about France and Wales where all they want to do is fuck. And give the authornon a chance - maybe s/he is going to post ten commentboxes about the conquest of Wales and the Welsh revival and devolution and Y Ddraig Goch and have he likes to watch S4C while munching on a leek.
you showed one character taking advantage of another with very little self-awareness.
What about the part where England keeps reassuring himself that this is totally kosher because he's just making Wales want sex, it's not like he's forcing himself on him, why it's just like a sexy backrub with scented massage oil?
I really hope you haven't put the author off because I want to read the rest of this. That spell's in the garbage can by the bed, don't forget, where anyone could find it.
See, those details to me were enough. I don't think it's fair to say it's "utterly generic" when you're consciously ignoring the bits that were character markers. Wales doesn't have to smell like a mixture of coal and sheep and talk about his dragon or have a phonetically written accent to be Wales.
Theere were no hints of their conflicted history and no sign of any deeper connection thhan a mutual wish to fuck.
You could say that about several fics on the kink meme. There was a SuFin recently that was just pure porn. There's a fic about France and Wales where all they want to do is fuck. And give the authornon a chance - maybe s/he is going to post ten commentboxes about the conquest of Wales and the Welsh revival and devolution and Y Ddraig Goch and have he likes to watch S4C while munching on a leek.
you showed one character taking advantage of another with very little self-awareness.
What about the part where England keeps reassuring himself that this is totally kosher because he's just making Wales want sex, it's not like he's forcing himself on him, why it's just like a sexy backrub with scented massage oil?
I really hope you haven't put the author off because I want to read the rest of this. That spell's in the garbage can by the bed, don't forget, where anyone could find it.
Okay this is short and confusing and written at 3 AM and possibly not what you were after, but anyway.
He's twenty five, seventy, a hundred and ten, two hundred and twenty five, forty thousand. He began, he must have began or else he would not be, but there's no point he just popped into existence and it's becoming a bit of an irritation.
Arthur told him what he was; gripped his hand when he was a small boy (however long he had been one for) and told him You belong to me, boy. And for years upon years Australia believed him; held tight and kept quiet knowing what he was - he was for England, and he should have been proud of that fact.
But then England let him go, pushed him away, told him to live his own life. Then came the rest of the world - men with golden and sea-green eyes, who settled and lived and became a part of him. So Australia didn't have his purpose anymore.
And then he had to remember...
Of all that's missing from his memory, one thing he recalls is a giant bloody snake. Which is ironic because that probably never happened. But it's important enough to remember, even if it's not real; this great creature which shaped his land and created mountains and gorges. If he ever began to exist, such a process would have to start with the physical.
Sometimes he thinks he remembers; sometimes he thinks he remembers he's supposed to remember. His elders are no help; they don't seem particularly concerned with his unending existential crisis. Even if it turns out he began before it, he still wears the face of the white men who stole their land. So he cannot blame them.
He's a mongrel of a country and he knows it. He can't be proud of it the way America is - he hates to admit it, but Alfred has taken all these different elements from all these different nations and created something thrilling and new. Australia has taken all these different elements from all these different nations and just... been. He's not sure what he is. When he sees what he seems to be to others reflected back at him, it seems off. Like they've copied the surface elements while missing the absolute core of his character - but he's not sure what exactly they've missed, so he can't complain.
And despite being such a menagerie of different things, he's so scared of different things. And he hates himself for it. He tries to stop all these people coming to him, changing him, and yet he desperately wants them to be part of him.
There's another person too who he met long ago, though after Arthur and his elders (if that ever happened). The man who mined his gold and buys his coal; who has never stopped coming to his country no matter what he does; who always calls him a reckless child (aru) but grasps his hand and helps him to the modern era. He is always brand new and always forever, and Australia can't have known him more than a few hundred years, and maybe that makes the argument that a few hundred years is all he's had, but if he's known the man all his life why does he feel like a stranger so often?
His earth is burnt and cracked under the southern sun; the serpent still crafts even if he was never real. And those lines in the earth, they widen and widen and one day Australia will fall right down the rabbit hole.
(Bloody rabbits.)
A few explanatory notes:
-The various ages: 25 = 1986, when the British court officially ceased to be part of Australian government; 70 = 1942, when Australia effectively achieved independence from Britain; 110 = 1901, federation; 225 = 1788, first British settlement of Australia; 40,000 years ago is first indigenous settlement of Australia.
-England 'letting him go' = independence was pretty much forced upon us. Then lots of migration, largely from southern Europe (men with golden and sea-green eyes = Greece and Romano)
-'Giant bloody snake' = the Rainbow Serpent, important aspect to many Australian Aboriginal creation myths.
-Chinese people have migrated to Australia since the 19th century, particularly during the gold rush; currently China is an important economic partner to which we export mineral resources. Attempts to curb Chinese migration have occurred.
-Rabbits are an introduced species to Australia who have caused much damage.
He's twenty five, seventy, a hundred and ten, two hundred and twenty five, forty thousand. He began, he must have began or else he would not be, but there's no point he just popped into existence and it's becoming a bit of an irritation.
Arthur told him what he was; gripped his hand when he was a small boy (however long he had been one for) and told him You belong to me, boy. And for years upon years Australia believed him; held tight and kept quiet knowing what he was - he was for England, and he should have been proud of that fact.
But then England let him go, pushed him away, told him to live his own life. Then came the rest of the world - men with golden and sea-green eyes, who settled and lived and became a part of him. So Australia didn't have his purpose anymore.
And then he had to remember...
Of all that's missing from his memory, one thing he recalls is a giant bloody snake. Which is ironic because that probably never happened. But it's important enough to remember, even if it's not real; this great creature which shaped his land and created mountains and gorges. If he ever began to exist, such a process would have to start with the physical.
Sometimes he thinks he remembers; sometimes he thinks he remembers he's supposed to remember. His elders are no help; they don't seem particularly concerned with his unending existential crisis. Even if it turns out he began before it, he still wears the face of the white men who stole their land. So he cannot blame them.
He's a mongrel of a country and he knows it. He can't be proud of it the way America is - he hates to admit it, but Alfred has taken all these different elements from all these different nations and created something thrilling and new. Australia has taken all these different elements from all these different nations and just... been. He's not sure what he is. When he sees what he seems to be to others reflected back at him, it seems off. Like they've copied the surface elements while missing the absolute core of his character - but he's not sure what exactly they've missed, so he can't complain.
And despite being such a menagerie of different things, he's so scared of different things. And he hates himself for it. He tries to stop all these people coming to him, changing him, and yet he desperately wants them to be part of him.
There's another person too who he met long ago, though after Arthur and his elders (if that ever happened). The man who mined his gold and buys his coal; who has never stopped coming to his country no matter what he does; who always calls him a reckless child (aru) but grasps his hand and helps him to the modern era. He is always brand new and always forever, and Australia can't have known him more than a few hundred years, and maybe that makes the argument that a few hundred years is all he's had, but if he's known the man all his life why does he feel like a stranger so often?
His earth is burnt and cracked under the southern sun; the serpent still crafts even if he was never real. And those lines in the earth, they widen and widen and one day Australia will fall right down the rabbit hole.
(Bloody rabbits.)
A few explanatory notes:
-The various ages: 25 = 1986, when the British court officially ceased to be part of Australian government; 70 = 1942, when Australia effectively achieved independence from Britain; 110 = 1901, federation; 225 = 1788, first British settlement of Australia; 40,000 years ago is first indigenous settlement of Australia.
-England 'letting him go' = independence was pretty much forced upon us. Then lots of migration, largely from southern Europe (men with golden and sea-green eyes = Greece and Romano)
-'Giant bloody snake' = the Rainbow Serpent, important aspect to many Australian Aboriginal creation myths.
-Chinese people have migrated to Australia since the 19th century, particularly during the gold rush; currently China is an important economic partner to which we export mineral resources. Attempts to curb Chinese migration have occurred.
-Rabbits are an introduced species to Australia who have caused much damage.
Aw hell yeah. Consider it being worked on.
(uprightness, captcha? Yes, it will be.)
(uprightness, captcha? Yes, it will be.)
This is very intriguing, and I like your setup a lot. I think the text makes England's entitlement pretty clear; and that his actions aren't as kosher as he thinks they are. It's subtle, but it works. And Wales may have liked what England was doing while he was under the spell, but what about when it wears off?
I think the spell falling into the trash can could come back to haunt England.
I'm also eager to read what happens next.
I think the spell falling into the trash can could come back to haunt England.
I'm also eager to read what happens next.
Denmark had always had the uncanny ability to tell whenever one of his fellow nations was about to make a terrible mistake. As he approached the huge hoarding with “Coming Soon: Another Giant Housing Estate in the Middle of Nowhere” stencilled on the side, his sense of foreboding increased. He quickened his pace, swishing his long scarf over one shoulder. When he arrived at the entrance, he spotted a copper-haired figure standing just inside, gazing at the pristine countryside with a massive site development plan in her hands.
The Republic of Ireland was about to blow all her money on housing estates, sending her economy right down the toilet. All that stood between her and her fate was a sassy Danish friend.
“What are you doing?!”
Ireland turned around, startled, as Denmark ran up to her wagging his finger. “What, what, WHAT are you DOING?”
Ireland frowned at him in confusion, gesturing to the site. “I’m about to break ground on a new housing estate. What’s it look like?”
Denmark stared at her in disbelief. “Another one?! What is this, like, sixty now?”
“It’s a property boom!” Ireland snapped back, folding her arms defensively.
“No,” Denmark corrected, “it’s a property bub-ble. If you keep blowing it up, it’s gonna burst, and then you’re gonna have to pawn all your Eurovision trophies just to keep Germany off your back!”
Ireland snorted. “Never happen. I’ve heaps of money. Have you not heard of the Celtic Tiger?”
She jerked her thumb to her left. Denmark looked and saw a large green tiger lounging disinterestedly on the grass a few yards away.
“It shits gold!” Ireland continued excitedly. She sobered a little, her expression growing serious. “And my boss says it needs lots of houses, or it’ll die.”
Denmark shook his head in disbelief, taking a few moments to come up with a rebuttal for the utter idiocy he’d just heard.
“Okay, first of all, the only mythical creatures with gold around here? Are leprechauns,” he told her. “I can’t believe I’ve gotta tell you that.” He put one hand on his hip, shifting his weight onto one leg. “And second of all, is this the same boss who wore a canary yellow fashion nightmare to a G8 summit? Because if it is, I don’t think you should trust his judgement.”
Ireland chewed her lip, rubbing the back of her neck nervously. “Well…”
“Prosperity’s new to you, sweetie,” Denmark said gently, touching her lightly on the arm. “When I met you, you didn’t even have a word for money. Then you spent seven hundred years with a control freak who left you penniless and got custody of your industrialised little brother. Now you’re finally on your feet, and you wanna flush it all away? This is why lottery winners go broke inside a year!” He gestured to the tiger and the building site. “Look at your life. Look at your choices.”
Ireland fidgeted, idly scuffing the toe of her work boot on the partially built gravel driveway. She cast a doubtful look at the tiger.
“Ah, you might have a point,” she admitted finally.
“Course I do,” Denmark answered with a smile. “Let’s go have some Guinness and talk about investments.”
“Grand!” Ireland agreed. She looked past Denmark, her expression turning sheepish. “Probably shouldn’t have bought that yoke, either.”
Denmark looked. A pimped out tractor with metallic paint, mud-splash vinyls, underglow neon and massive spinners was parked a few feet away.
“You stupid bitch,” Denmark said fondly, slapping her gently on the arm. “C’mon, let’s go return it.” He shook his head and smiled to himself as Ireland went to get her keys. “She’s a stupid bitch”.
The Republic of Ireland was about to blow all her money on housing estates, sending her economy right down the toilet. All that stood between her and her fate was a sassy Danish friend.
“What are you doing?!”
Ireland turned around, startled, as Denmark ran up to her wagging his finger. “What, what, WHAT are you DOING?”
Ireland frowned at him in confusion, gesturing to the site. “I’m about to break ground on a new housing estate. What’s it look like?”
Denmark stared at her in disbelief. “Another one?! What is this, like, sixty now?”
“It’s a property boom!” Ireland snapped back, folding her arms defensively.
“No,” Denmark corrected, “it’s a property bub-ble. If you keep blowing it up, it’s gonna burst, and then you’re gonna have to pawn all your Eurovision trophies just to keep Germany off your back!”
Ireland snorted. “Never happen. I’ve heaps of money. Have you not heard of the Celtic Tiger?”
She jerked her thumb to her left. Denmark looked and saw a large green tiger lounging disinterestedly on the grass a few yards away.
“It shits gold!” Ireland continued excitedly. She sobered a little, her expression growing serious. “And my boss says it needs lots of houses, or it’ll die.”
Denmark shook his head in disbelief, taking a few moments to come up with a rebuttal for the utter idiocy he’d just heard.
“Okay, first of all, the only mythical creatures with gold around here? Are leprechauns,” he told her. “I can’t believe I’ve gotta tell you that.” He put one hand on his hip, shifting his weight onto one leg. “And second of all, is this the same boss who wore a canary yellow fashion nightmare to a G8 summit? Because if it is, I don’t think you should trust his judgement.”
Ireland chewed her lip, rubbing the back of her neck nervously. “Well…”
“Prosperity’s new to you, sweetie,” Denmark said gently, touching her lightly on the arm. “When I met you, you didn’t even have a word for money. Then you spent seven hundred years with a control freak who left you penniless and got custody of your industrialised little brother. Now you’re finally on your feet, and you wanna flush it all away? This is why lottery winners go broke inside a year!” He gestured to the tiger and the building site. “Look at your life. Look at your choices.”
Ireland fidgeted, idly scuffing the toe of her work boot on the partially built gravel driveway. She cast a doubtful look at the tiger.
“Ah, you might have a point,” she admitted finally.
“Course I do,” Denmark answered with a smile. “Let’s go have some Guinness and talk about investments.”
“Grand!” Ireland agreed. She looked past Denmark, her expression turning sheepish. “Probably shouldn’t have bought that yoke, either.”
Denmark looked. A pimped out tractor with metallic paint, mud-splash vinyls, underglow neon and massive spinners was parked a few feet away.
“You stupid bitch,” Denmark said fondly, slapping her gently on the arm. “C’mon, let’s go return it.” He shook his head and smiled to himself as Ireland went to get her keys. “She’s a stupid bitch”.
Notes: The Irish economic downturn was due in large part to the collapse of the housing bubble, fuelled by property developers and bankers. Ireland is now littered with half-built housing estates and finished housing estates with no or very few residents. These have come to be known as ghost estates.
Ireland has won the Eurovision seven times, more times than any other contestant.
The Irish economy was known as the Celtic Tiger during the boom years.
Leprechauns are Irish fairies said to hoard gold at the end of rainbows.
Ireland’s boss (Bertie Ahern) infamously showed up to a G8 summit in 2006 wearing a canary yellow suit. He looked a holy show.
The Irish Gaelic word for money (and silver), airgead, comes from one of the old Viking languages, as do many Irish Gaelic words to do with shipping and trade.
The “control freak” is England.
The “little brother” is Northern Ireland. The province of Ulster was much more industrially developed than the rest of the country, boasting (among other industries) Harland and Wolff shipyards, where the Titanic was built.
Ireland has won the Eurovision seven times, more times than any other contestant.
The Irish economy was known as the Celtic Tiger during the boom years.
Leprechauns are Irish fairies said to hoard gold at the end of rainbows.
Ireland’s boss (Bertie Ahern) infamously showed up to a G8 summit in 2006 wearing a canary yellow suit. He looked a holy show.
The Irish Gaelic word for money (and silver), airgead, comes from one of the old Viking languages, as do many Irish Gaelic words to do with shipping and trade.
The “control freak” is England.
The “little brother” is Northern Ireland. The province of Ulster was much more industrially developed than the rest of the country, boasting (among other industries) Harland and Wolff shipyards, where the Titanic was built.
Re: England/Seychelles - In the Victorian era, England is a lolicon
(Anonymous) 2013-01-24 03:24 am (UTC)(link)How does "what" = kink shaming? :/
'terrible things'
Could you please be a dear and elaborate on this
Because this sounds like you're shitting on everyone else
(A!A - You did a great fill)
Could you please be a dear and elaborate on this
Because this sounds like you're shitting on everyone else
(A!A - You did a great fill)
Oh my God, this was brilliant! It felt just like a Sassy Gay Friend skit, and for mastering that style, I commend you, A!A! *tip of the hat*
I really hope this gets a fill, but in the mean time, do you follow ask-the-ukbros on tumblr? The Wales there is dating NZ, and its super cute!
http://ask-the-ukbros.tumblr.com/tagged/aph%3A+New+Zealand/chrono
It's all at this link, and that "chrono" part at the end reverses tumblr's normal order so the oldest appears first and you can read everything in order.
Seconding this prompt and hope OP likes what little I could offer!
http://ask-the-ukbros.tumblr.com/tagged/aph%3A+New+Zealand/chrono
It's all at this link, and that "chrono" part at the end reverses tumblr's normal order so the oldest appears first and you can read everything in order.
Seconding this prompt and hope OP likes what little I could offer!
This was great. Perfect fill, and I laughed so hard at the 'green tiger that shits gold.' Oh, poor Ireland, you were doing so well.
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