This was one of the few times I really considered creating an alliance with one of the countries. (And don’t say ‘but you’re with them so much, you must be allies with the axis powers!’ You’re wrong. I just like to hang with them, is all. I like inconsistency between the nations) I know, by now, you’ve probably figured out how big of a horn ball I am, but hey, even I have my moments with romance.
It was almost time for Germany and Austria to depart, well, after the big military parade, that is. Italy and I pushed our way through the throngs ) of large, robust Germans towards our beloved Germany. The one and only Germany.
Italy gave him some food, and a heartfelt pep-talk that even convinced our tall, strapping Germany to smile. Don’t be too shocked, it didn’t last long, for Italy’s tears upset him a moment later. After a minute or two I decided that adorable Italy needed to go away for a bit, and I pointed out a few cute girls admiring some flowers in a window. As soon as he was gone I smiled back up at Germany.
“Is something wrong?” he asked, frowning, “You’ve been uncharacteristically quiet thus far…” I shook my head and smiled, curiously pulling his uniformed hat from his head. He cocked an eyebrow at me, resisting the urge to scold me. I guess he was curious as to what I had planned to do next (Honestly, so was I). After a minute of staring, I placed the hat back on his head gently.
“You look younger with your hat on.” His face soured and I gasped, realizing what that sounded like, “Oh, no! I’m not calling…you…old…” By now we had our eyes fixed. Two sets of blue orbs locked, both trailing the other’s movements.
And then, only lord knows why, we kissed.
Friday, February 11, 2011
o19
One day I went to Japan’s house with Italy to soak in the hot springs. Much to Japan’s relief and Italy’s displeasure, there were two hot springs, separated by a large rock. I could soak separate from the boys.
At some point into my bath I heard Italy asking Japan about making miniatures, like the submarines he’d made for Germany. And then I heard what I’m pretty sure was a reference to Japan’s junk: Italy was calling it small.
Japan wasn’t happy and he called on a giant robot thing to ‘attack’ Italy.
I smiled to myself, remembering something I once heard my mom say on the subject of my father: Big things often come in small packages. It was all I could do to bite my lip, you know, to keep from breaking the freaking rock separating Japan and I.
At some point into my bath I heard Italy asking Japan about making miniatures, like the submarines he’d made for Germany. And then I heard what I’m pretty sure was a reference to Japan’s junk: Italy was calling it small.
Japan wasn’t happy and he called on a giant robot thing to ‘attack’ Italy.
I smiled to myself, remembering something I once heard my mom say on the subject of my father: Big things often come in small packages. It was all I could do to bite my lip, you know, to keep from breaking the freaking rock separating Japan and I.
o18
Somebody should really tell this desert island about Hawaii. Its warm there, just not here. The fire cracked slowly. The flames were beginning to die down to simmering coal and the smoke was keeping the insects away, at least.
Next to me, Italy was sprawled out on the sand, snoring. A crab he’d caught earlier was still clamped onto his hair. On my other side was Japan, laying flat as a board, his jacket covering his torso. At some point in the night my chattering teeth had woken Germany and now I was warm and cozy against his chest.
But then Japan and Germany woke up so suddenly that they scared me. Japan pulled his sword out, and Germany got his gun, much to my dismay. “The hell are you two doing?” I asked, already getting cold again.
“China! I choose you!” Lord, please let that be Latvia, or Canada, or Greece, or someone- anyone other than noisy America. Alas, my prayers went unanswered. By the time I looked up China was on top of Japan and they were going at it. What I don’t get is how Japan, who had a sword, lost to China, who had a freaking Wok.
And then Germany got taken out, and in midst of the chaos Italy was crying, waving that damn, home-made capitulation flag of his, and I’m pretty sure I felt someone grab my ass while I stood and watched the chaos unfold. Probably America.
And then, lord, the old fart (refer to drabble oo1) just had to pop up and add to the anarchy. I don’t know how but he rose from the freaking sea, with freaking women hanging off his freaking rock hard muscles. And somehow there was a spotlight on him coming from freaking no where in the night sky. And when he was gone Italy was the only one acting like seeing the greatest, albeit dead, Empire of all time raising from the sea to sing some totally random lyrics, with three women hot enough to make Taylor Swift go lesbo, was a perfectly common phenomenon.
But hey, I don’t keep track of what that kid eats before he goes to bed at night…
Next to me, Italy was sprawled out on the sand, snoring. A crab he’d caught earlier was still clamped onto his hair. On my other side was Japan, laying flat as a board, his jacket covering his torso. At some point in the night my chattering teeth had woken Germany and now I was warm and cozy against his chest.
But then Japan and Germany woke up so suddenly that they scared me. Japan pulled his sword out, and Germany got his gun, much to my dismay. “The hell are you two doing?” I asked, already getting cold again.
“China! I choose you!” Lord, please let that be Latvia, or Canada, or Greece, or someone- anyone other than noisy America. Alas, my prayers went unanswered. By the time I looked up China was on top of Japan and they were going at it. What I don’t get is how Japan, who had a sword, lost to China, who had a freaking Wok.
And then Germany got taken out, and in midst of the chaos Italy was crying, waving that damn, home-made capitulation flag of his, and I’m pretty sure I felt someone grab my ass while I stood and watched the chaos unfold. Probably America.
And then, lord, the old fart (refer to drabble oo1) just had to pop up and add to the anarchy. I don’t know how but he rose from the freaking sea, with freaking women hanging off his freaking rock hard muscles. And somehow there was a spotlight on him coming from freaking no where in the night sky. And when he was gone Italy was the only one acting like seeing the greatest, albeit dead, Empire of all time raising from the sea to sing some totally random lyrics, with three women hot enough to make Taylor Swift go lesbo, was a perfectly common phenomenon.
But hey, I don’t keep track of what that kid eats before he goes to bed at night…
o17
I always thought Britain was particularly adorable. The honorifics and metaphors he uses have always been a sort of turn on, but not seriously. One day I thought I might go out to drink with him: I heard he’s a real animal when he’s got a few beers in his system! But when I rounded the corner I saw something I could have gone my entire life without seeing.
“Hey, stop that tickles!” he laughed, patting the air, “Oh, I love you guys so much,! You make me feel so relaxed! You take all my stress away!” He leaned over and hugged the air space next to him, then pretended to kiss something.
“And he says I’m weird…”
Suddenly America was next to me, shadows casting on his face. “That’s what I said…”
“Hey, stop that tickles!” he laughed, patting the air, “Oh, I love you guys so much,! You make me feel so relaxed! You take all my stress away!” He leaned over and hugged the air space next to him, then pretended to kiss something.
“And he says I’m weird…”
Suddenly America was next to me, shadows casting on his face. “That’s what I said…”
o16
After WW1 passed, Germany, for some, strange reason, took me out for a drink. Maybe it was because I could sympathize with poor Germany, he was in quite a bind. France was demanding 132 billion marks for reparation for the war, because, in that wimpy blonde‘s mind, it was all Germany’s fault. If the payments were late, France threatened to take over the Ruhr region.
“Can you believe it?!” Germany yelled, drunk out of his pants. Literally. He was sitting there at the booth, next to me, with no pants and what I’m pretty sure was a boner. Either that or he was so desperate for money that he was going to steal a bottle of alcohol. “The bastard is making me build cuckoo clocks for him! I hate cuckoo clocks!”
By now I’d finished my beer and wanted a second. And even though I noticed the price had doubled in just the few minutes we’d talking, probably because he was printing money at the same rate Russia metabolized alcohol, I ordered another. Hey, why not? It was all on Germany.
And I know that sounds diabolically evil, but that’s what the idiot gets for printing enough money to burn us a bonfire for five months straight.
“Can you believe it?!” Germany yelled, drunk out of his pants. Literally. He was sitting there at the booth, next to me, with no pants and what I’m pretty sure was a boner. Either that or he was so desperate for money that he was going to steal a bottle of alcohol. “The bastard is making me build cuckoo clocks for him! I hate cuckoo clocks!”
By now I’d finished my beer and wanted a second. And even though I noticed the price had doubled in just the few minutes we’d talking, probably because he was printing money at the same rate Russia metabolized alcohol, I ordered another. Hey, why not? It was all on Germany.
And I know that sounds diabolically evil, but that’s what the idiot gets for printing enough money to burn us a bonfire for five months straight.
o15
I didn’t particularly get along with Russia’s little sister, Belarus. We had a, um, hrm…well, rivalry of sorts.
A knife flew through the air and stuck to the wall by my head. “Work on your aim, Bel!”
“Only brother dearest calls me that!” she screamed, grabbing a pitch fork. I grabbed a shovel and we went at it like two Jedi, but without the cheesy sound effects.
“Enough with the incest! He’s taken!” I roared back, scratching her cheek. At some point we had both ditched our weapons and were rolling in the dirt bare-fisting it. Hair was pulled, teeth were knocked out, eyes were made black.
Poor Russia was stuck cowering the corner.
A knife flew through the air and stuck to the wall by my head. “Work on your aim, Bel!”
“Only brother dearest calls me that!” she screamed, grabbing a pitch fork. I grabbed a shovel and we went at it like two Jedi, but without the cheesy sound effects.
“Enough with the incest! He’s taken!” I roared back, scratching her cheek. At some point we had both ditched our weapons and were rolling in the dirt bare-fisting it. Hair was pulled, teeth were knocked out, eyes were made black.
Poor Russia was stuck cowering the corner.
o14
I completely understood why Britain, America and the others would want to capture Italy. He was completely dependent on Germany, and, in turn, that would have given them the chance to capture Germany. But what I didn’t understand was why the took me too.
We were in the dog house- literally. “Might as well feed them.” Britain said, bringing Italy and I our food. The plates of food were placed in front of us rather unceremoniously. Italy took one bit and almost hurled.
“This food is awful!” he cried out. More for me. I took the food from his plate and dumped it onto mine. Hell, Germany had taught me to eat what I could when I was captured. Be resourceful and strong. Never give out information. Especially if they treat you this well, I thought, this is better than boot camp with Germany.
“Is my food that bad?” Britain asked. By now all of the other countries were gathering, wondering what to do with us, or rather, Italy.
“Can’t we just throw them in prison?” America asked.
“I wouldn’t mind that,” I said, a metaphorical light bulb clicking on over my head, “but I think I’d prefer slavery.” I cast dirty glances between all the countries.
America spun around, beaming, “Anybody got a twenty I can borrow?!”
We were in the dog house- literally. “Might as well feed them.” Britain said, bringing Italy and I our food. The plates of food were placed in front of us rather unceremoniously. Italy took one bit and almost hurled.
“This food is awful!” he cried out. More for me. I took the food from his plate and dumped it onto mine. Hell, Germany had taught me to eat what I could when I was captured. Be resourceful and strong. Never give out information. Especially if they treat you this well, I thought, this is better than boot camp with Germany.
“Is my food that bad?” Britain asked. By now all of the other countries were gathering, wondering what to do with us, or rather, Italy.
“Can’t we just throw them in prison?” America asked.
“I wouldn’t mind that,” I said, a metaphorical light bulb clicking on over my head, “but I think I’d prefer slavery.” I cast dirty glances between all the countries.
America spun around, beaming, “Anybody got a twenty I can borrow?!”
o13
China always wears his sleeves too long for him. And I always had the hunch that that was what made him look all the cuter. So, one day, when we were hanging out together, I borrowed one of his shirts, one with sleeves almost twice as long as my arms.
“Oh my god!” my squeal had China looking up from the stove, where he was cooking lunch, and saw me in the doorway. He dropped the Wok he was pulling from a cabinet. And his jaw, for that matter.
The red oriental top fit quite snugly everywhere but my arms, making me look like that girl Taiwan.
“Oh my goodness!” he chimed, rushing over and squeezing the life out of me, “You look so adorable, aru!”
Yup. My hunch was right. Genius~
“Oh my god!” my squeal had China looking up from the stove, where he was cooking lunch, and saw me in the doorway. He dropped the Wok he was pulling from a cabinet. And his jaw, for that matter.
The red oriental top fit quite snugly everywhere but my arms, making me look like that girl Taiwan.
“Oh my goodness!” he chimed, rushing over and squeezing the life out of me, “You look so adorable, aru!”
Yup. My hunch was right. Genius~
o12
Austria was always a cheapskate. But he went a little over the top when he found an old pair of Germany’s ripped underwear. What happened to rip them, I have no idea, and I may not want to know, what with the whole DVD fiasco (reference to drabble oo7) way back when. Anyways, back to Austria.
I watched him patch the underwear that day, his nimble fingers sewing away. I slightly wondered if he was even the least bit wierded out by this situation, because I sure as hell would have been. You couldn’t pay me to fix Germany’s dirty underwear.
But, from that day forward, I was much more careful when I threw out the underwear I dirtied when I had my monthly menstruation. Lord who knows what he’d do if he found those…
I watched him patch the underwear that day, his nimble fingers sewing away. I slightly wondered if he was even the least bit wierded out by this situation, because I sure as hell would have been. You couldn’t pay me to fix Germany’s dirty underwear.
But, from that day forward, I was much more careful when I threw out the underwear I dirtied when I had my monthly menstruation. Lord who knows what he’d do if he found those…
o11
Japan wasn’t much of one to show off his body, particularly in public. And, in all honesty, I found this quite adorable at times. His conservativeness, that is.
But if he thought Italy and Germany were bad on hot, summer days; hoo boy.
One day, it was so hot out, and when a shirtless Germany pulled out the water hose, I couldn’t take it anymore. Italy- both Romano and Veneziano- were basking in lawn chairs, shirtless once more.
Hallelujah
“Germany!” I chimed, holding my arms up and closing my eyes. Smirking, he turned the hose on me. The water, which felt oh-so-good, turned my white shirt translucent and made my black short-shorts cling to my thighs suggestively.
Then Japan rounded the corner. “What are you doing?! Please cover yourselves!” he yelled. Of course, to Japan, a girl wearing a see-through top and too-tight shorts, surrounded by three, shirtless, cheering men probably did look a little over the top…!
But if he thought Italy and Germany were bad on hot, summer days; hoo boy.
One day, it was so hot out, and when a shirtless Germany pulled out the water hose, I couldn’t take it anymore. Italy- both Romano and Veneziano- were basking in lawn chairs, shirtless once more.
Hallelujah
“Germany!” I chimed, holding my arms up and closing my eyes. Smirking, he turned the hose on me. The water, which felt oh-so-good, turned my white shirt translucent and made my black short-shorts cling to my thighs suggestively.
Then Japan rounded the corner. “What are you doing?! Please cover yourselves!” he yelled. Of course, to Japan, a girl wearing a see-through top and too-tight shorts, surrounded by three, shirtless, cheering men probably did look a little over the top…!
o10
**Continued**
A few mornings later, Romano tapped my shoulder softly. As soon as I saw him, I wanted to have a nose bleed and pass out. “I just want to talk to you about the other night.” he smiled, holding his hands up like shields.
“What about it?”
He looked a little awkward, “Um…what did you think was happening?”
“Butt sex.” I said matter-of-factly. Romano’s face dropped. “What was really happening?”
“An argument.” I noticed the way his brow furrowed jaggedly, his eyes shifting to the side. “Stupid little brother. He wanted to cuddle, but apparently he didn’t like how bony my elbow is. But I hate it when I’m front cuz I don’t like the idea of my ass being by his junk.”
I stifled a spontaneous laugh. “You’re funny.” I punched his arm lightly and Romano blushed like the flirt he was.
A few mornings later, Romano tapped my shoulder softly. As soon as I saw him, I wanted to have a nose bleed and pass out. “I just want to talk to you about the other night.” he smiled, holding his hands up like shields.
“What about it?”
He looked a little awkward, “Um…what did you think was happening?”
“Butt sex.” I said matter-of-factly. Romano’s face dropped. “What was really happening?”
“An argument.” I noticed the way his brow furrowed jaggedly, his eyes shifting to the side. “Stupid little brother. He wanted to cuddle, but apparently he didn’t like how bony my elbow is. But I hate it when I’m front cuz I don’t like the idea of my ass being by his junk.”
I stifled a spontaneous laugh. “You’re funny.” I punched his arm lightly and Romano blushed like the flirt he was.
oo9
Lord knew why two grown, light-and-dark different brothers insisted on sleeping in the same bed together. I’m no genius, but from what I can tell, its pretty hot. I was walking by Italy’s room one night, after an all-out, midnight chocolate binge in Germany’s kitchen, when I heard it.
“Ow! Romano, you’re so harsh! Meanie!”
“Shut up, Veneziano! You’re the one who said you wanted to do it!”
“Not like this! I meant the other way!”
“I’m not comfortably the other way! Deal with it!”
And then I burst in through the door. Light from the hallway flooded the dark room. The two boys looked up, shocked. All I saw were their torsos, which were amazing and bare, thank the good lord for Italians, and everything else was below the covers. Oh, and they were spooning. Which, you know, thanks to the stupid bed sheets, may have actually been forking.
“What are you doing in here?” Romano asked me in a soft tone. He was always so gentle with women.
“Butt sex?! What?! I didn’t say that!” and then I was gone like a bullet.
**To Be Continued…**
“Ow! Romano, you’re so harsh! Meanie!”
“Shut up, Veneziano! You’re the one who said you wanted to do it!”
“Not like this! I meant the other way!”
“I’m not comfortably the other way! Deal with it!”
And then I burst in through the door. Light from the hallway flooded the dark room. The two boys looked up, shocked. All I saw were their torsos, which were amazing and bare, thank the good lord for Italians, and everything else was below the covers. Oh, and they were spooning. Which, you know, thanks to the stupid bed sheets, may have actually been forking.
“What are you doing in here?” Romano asked me in a soft tone. He was always so gentle with women.
“Butt sex?! What?! I didn’t say that!” and then I was gone like a bullet.
**To Be Continued…**
oo8
I’m not quite sure what I did wrong, but Germany didn’t like it. So here I was, being carried potato-sack style over Germany’s shoulder.
Behind us, Italy followed at Germany’s heels. “If you get the chance,” he whispered, “Feel his ass! You won’t believe it!” I wasn’t going to ask what had him telling me that, or how he knew what it felt like, for that matter.
…
“Oh my goodness! Its so firm!”
Behind us, Italy followed at Germany’s heels. “If you get the chance,” he whispered, “Feel his ass! You won’t believe it!” I wasn’t going to ask what had him telling me that, or how he knew what it felt like, for that matter.
…
“Oh my goodness! Its so firm!”
oo7
“Eeeeek!” I squealed out one day. Italy, on instinct, threw out his white flag and hopped up onto a chair. I don’t think he knew my ‘it’s a mouse’ eeek from my ‘its an enemy’ eeek.
“What is it now?” Germany asked, already miffed. He’d grown accustomed to how annoying I was, but he still had his days.
I strode into the room, carrying an old, dusty cardboard box full of DVDs and photographs, which I dropped unceremoniously on the floor like it had Herpes. And I wouldn’t have been surprised if it did. “What the hell is all this?”
Germany’s face dropped. “Where did you find those?”
“I was cleaning your room, as a favor, honestly it’s a pig sty in there, and I just happened to come across them when I was dusting your closet!”
Italy crawled over to the box and began shifting through the contents curiously, his brother, Romano (South Italy), who was visiting, cast a hard glare at Germany. “I always knew there was something shifty about you, you potato-sucker!” Romano yelled viciously.
Little Italy smiled up at his brother, holding a DVD. “Romano, we don’t even know what they are yet! Don’t jump to conclusions!” I already knew.
So there we sat; watching old, cheap, home-made, sex DVDs from Germany’s war days. Romano threw a fit, but Italy persistently backed Germany up. “Well, I don’t see what’s so wrong with two cold German soldiers wanting to keep warm. I mean, sharing body heat…is good right?”
“You don’t have to be nude, Italy.” I said, “Or hump, for that matter.”
“What is it now?” Germany asked, already miffed. He’d grown accustomed to how annoying I was, but he still had his days.
I strode into the room, carrying an old, dusty cardboard box full of DVDs and photographs, which I dropped unceremoniously on the floor like it had Herpes. And I wouldn’t have been surprised if it did. “What the hell is all this?”
Germany’s face dropped. “Where did you find those?”
“I was cleaning your room, as a favor, honestly it’s a pig sty in there, and I just happened to come across them when I was dusting your closet!”
Italy crawled over to the box and began shifting through the contents curiously, his brother, Romano (South Italy), who was visiting, cast a hard glare at Germany. “I always knew there was something shifty about you, you potato-sucker!” Romano yelled viciously.
Little Italy smiled up at his brother, holding a DVD. “Romano, we don’t even know what they are yet! Don’t jump to conclusions!” I already knew.
So there we sat; watching old, cheap, home-made, sex DVDs from Germany’s war days. Romano threw a fit, but Italy persistently backed Germany up. “Well, I don’t see what’s so wrong with two cold German soldiers wanting to keep warm. I mean, sharing body heat…is good right?”
“You don’t have to be nude, Italy.” I said, “Or hump, for that matter.”
oo6
Germany just kept working and working, the poor guy. Still, Italy needed a job and France needed to taste his own yucky medicine.
“Italy, get that one over there!” I barked. He brought down his hammer on another cuckoo clock in the corner.
“Isn’t this wrong?” he asked in a pout, “Mister Germany takes such good care of me and we’re destroying everything he worked so hard to make!”
“Relax!” I replied in a sing-song voice. “This is payback on France for beating us down! Germany would be proud of us!” Just then there were heavy foot steps fast approaching down the hallway and I ditched out the window. “Sorry, Italy! You’re on your own!”
The last thing I heard was Italy’s girly, virgin cries of pain and agony.
“Italy, get that one over there!” I barked. He brought down his hammer on another cuckoo clock in the corner.
“Isn’t this wrong?” he asked in a pout, “Mister Germany takes such good care of me and we’re destroying everything he worked so hard to make!”
“Relax!” I replied in a sing-song voice. “This is payback on France for beating us down! Germany would be proud of us!” Just then there were heavy foot steps fast approaching down the hallway and I ditched out the window. “Sorry, Italy! You’re on your own!”
The last thing I heard was Italy’s girly, virgin cries of pain and agony.
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
oo5
**Continued…**
“Waaahh! I’m sorry! I’m soooorry! I’m not really a tomato fairy at all! Please don’t shoot! I’ll do anything! Anything! Forgive meeeee!” The Italian wailed and wailed, shaking his head, and spewing tears at both Germany and I. “You wouldn’t wan to kill and innocent virgin, would you? I’m just an ordinary Italian! I have relatives in Bayern!”
I saw the way Germany rolled his, the way his mood seemed to darken, the little thundercloud hanging over his head like two ton barbells. He wasn’t happy right about now.
When Germany lifted the Italian from the box by the back of his shirt collar it only seemed to enhance the pleas and excuses. “Don’t I get a last meal?! Can’t I eat pasta before I dieeee?!”
Germany and I shared a glance before I turned and asked the Italian, “Are you really a descendant of the Great Rome?” The stream of tears that was shooting at Germany’s face came to an abrupt halt.
“Huh? You two know grandpa Rome?” His world suddenly became much brighter. “I’m Italy. Rome’s grandson. I like pasta and pizza and I’ll do anything you say as long as I’m safe and fed! I thought you both were pretty scary at first, but if you know grandpa Rome you can’t be that bad!”
Something clicked in Germany’s mind and he back up, smacking Italy in the face with his gun. “You can’t trick me, you pasta-loving dummkopf!” Poor Italy fell to the ground, squirming like a roly-poly bug, crying again.
“Aw, Germany, did you really have to go and hit the poor kid?” Germany glared at us both, “All countries have their faults. So he’s a little annoying, certainly not strong, but anyways! You’ve got Hitler!”
“”Do not speak of Hitler in that manner!” he mashed me with the gun too, right in the jaw. Now there were two wimps, rolling and crying in the dirt.
“Waaahh! I’m sorry! I’m soooorry! I’m not really a tomato fairy at all! Please don’t shoot! I’ll do anything! Anything! Forgive meeeee!” The Italian wailed and wailed, shaking his head, and spewing tears at both Germany and I. “You wouldn’t wan to kill and innocent virgin, would you? I’m just an ordinary Italian! I have relatives in Bayern!”
I saw the way Germany rolled his, the way his mood seemed to darken, the little thundercloud hanging over his head like two ton barbells. He wasn’t happy right about now.
When Germany lifted the Italian from the box by the back of his shirt collar it only seemed to enhance the pleas and excuses. “Don’t I get a last meal?! Can’t I eat pasta before I dieeee?!”
Germany and I shared a glance before I turned and asked the Italian, “Are you really a descendant of the Great Rome?” The stream of tears that was shooting at Germany’s face came to an abrupt halt.
“Huh? You two know grandpa Rome?” His world suddenly became much brighter. “I’m Italy. Rome’s grandson. I like pasta and pizza and I’ll do anything you say as long as I’m safe and fed! I thought you both were pretty scary at first, but if you know grandpa Rome you can’t be that bad!”
Something clicked in Germany’s mind and he back up, smacking Italy in the face with his gun. “You can’t trick me, you pasta-loving dummkopf!” Poor Italy fell to the ground, squirming like a roly-poly bug, crying again.
“Aw, Germany, did you really have to go and hit the poor kid?” Germany glared at us both, “All countries have their faults. So he’s a little annoying, certainly not strong, but anyways! You’ve got Hitler!”
“”Do not speak of Hitler in that manner!” he mashed me with the gun too, right in the jaw. Now there were two wimps, rolling and crying in the dirt.
oo4
**Continued…**
“Stupid tomatoes!” I kicked the wooden box hard, noticing the lack of the hollow sound one gets when you usually kick a wooden box. The box jumped a good ten feet in shock. I startled a box, ha.
“Yeeek!” it cried out.
My head tipped to the side curiously. “‘Yeeek?’” Germany was to my right now, wielding his stick menacingly. Well, as menacingly as a food-deprived, enemy-less, at-war German soldier could wield a stick.
“H-hello! I am the tomato crate fairy!” I giggled. Germany growled. “I’m here to make friends! Let’s play!”
The “tomato crate fairy” made the box jump again as the barrel of my gun made hard contact with the top of the crate. “Germany, can I shoot it? You know I really do despise tomatoes. One less of their fairies won’t hurt will it? And besides, we haven’t gotten to shoot anything yet!”
Sadly, my request was ignored. “Sounds like there’s someone inside.” Germany observed dumbly. Lack of sleep, food, and sex was getting to him…
“There’s no one in here! Don’t open me!” The heavily accented voice chimed out pleadingly. Germany grabbed the top of the crate a pulled, pulled, pulled, occasionally cursing himself for not being stronger, ignoring the fairy as he’d done to me. “What, are you a freak or something? You don’t want to see my guts do you?!” the fairy yelled out.
My hand raised involuntarily “I’d like to see, of you don’t mind.”
**To Be Continued**
“Stupid tomatoes!” I kicked the wooden box hard, noticing the lack of the hollow sound one gets when you usually kick a wooden box. The box jumped a good ten feet in shock. I startled a box, ha.
“Yeeek!” it cried out.
My head tipped to the side curiously. “‘Yeeek?’” Germany was to my right now, wielding his stick menacingly. Well, as menacingly as a food-deprived, enemy-less, at-war German soldier could wield a stick.
“H-hello! I am the tomato crate fairy!” I giggled. Germany growled. “I’m here to make friends! Let’s play!”
The “tomato crate fairy” made the box jump again as the barrel of my gun made hard contact with the top of the crate. “Germany, can I shoot it? You know I really do despise tomatoes. One less of their fairies won’t hurt will it? And besides, we haven’t gotten to shoot anything yet!”
Sadly, my request was ignored. “Sounds like there’s someone inside.” Germany observed dumbly. Lack of sleep, food, and sex was getting to him…
“There’s no one in here! Don’t open me!” The heavily accented voice chimed out pleadingly. Germany grabbed the top of the crate a pulled, pulled, pulled, occasionally cursing himself for not being stronger, ignoring the fairy as he’d done to me. “What, are you a freak or something? You don’t want to see my guts do you?!” the fairy yelled out.
My hand raised involuntarily “I’d like to see, of you don’t mind.”
**To Be Continued**
oo3
“Why didn’t you share your Wurst with me?!” I found myself pouting, flailing my arms in hunger at the tall, broad, blonde man walking next to me. “I’m so bored! I’m so hungry!”
“Shut up!” Germany waved his stick at me threateningly, he’d been carrying it since we crossed the boarder days ago, occasionally scratching his back with it when I refused to scratch for him. “You’ll get to eat tonight when we camp.”
My stomach growled again and I frowned. The gun in my hands might help to convince Germany to camp now…but he had a gun too…and more experience with firearms. Just then I saw it. “Is that a box of tomatoes?” I asked, bounding over to the crate.
Germany threw his arms out dramatically, wielding his stick in a way he knew our enemy, this so-called ‘decedent of the Roman Empire,’ would be terrified of. “Stop! It could be a trap!”
I smiled back at him reassuringly, albeit stupidly “Will you relax? I don’t even like tomatoes!”
Germany face-palmed.
**To Be Continued**
“Shut up!” Germany waved his stick at me threateningly, he’d been carrying it since we crossed the boarder days ago, occasionally scratching his back with it when I refused to scratch for him. “You’ll get to eat tonight when we camp.”
My stomach growled again and I frowned. The gun in my hands might help to convince Germany to camp now…but he had a gun too…and more experience with firearms. Just then I saw it. “Is that a box of tomatoes?” I asked, bounding over to the crate.
Germany threw his arms out dramatically, wielding his stick in a way he knew our enemy, this so-called ‘decedent of the Roman Empire,’ would be terrified of. “Stop! It could be a trap!”
I smiled back at him reassuringly, albeit stupidly “Will you relax? I don’t even like tomatoes!”
Germany face-palmed.
**To Be Continued**
oo2
According to research conducted by an English condom company Greece is the country that has the most sex. Unfortunately for me, Greece himself read that article. “It’s so true.” he said one day after a nap, “But it so bland sometimes that it gets old.” he turned to me, paused, then said, “Wanna do it?”
I gasped. Next to me, Japan was blushing uncomfortably. “You just said- ”
“I’ve never done it with an American before.” Greece shrugged.
(As an added note, Japan came in dead last in that test. Ironic, since Japan and Greece, complete opposites, are on rather good terms with one another…)
I gasped. Next to me, Japan was blushing uncomfortably. “You just said- ”
“I’ve never done it with an American before.” Greece shrugged.
(As an added note, Japan came in dead last in that test. Ironic, since Japan and Greece, complete opposites, are on rather good terms with one another…)
oo1
What a tragedy. Woe was the world, for the Roman Empire had fallen. Still, the old fart refused to leave me alone!
One night I rolled over in bed to find the bastard asleep next to me- in the nude.
“What are you doing here?!” I screamed, praying it didn’t wake Germany in the next room.
His face soured. “I couldn’t sleep.”
“So you come in here?!”
“Well I’m not going to sleep nude with my adorable grandsons! That would just be wrong!”
One night I rolled over in bed to find the bastard asleep next to me- in the nude.
“What are you doing here?!” I screamed, praying it didn’t wake Germany in the next room.
His face soured. “I couldn’t sleep.”
“So you come in here?!”
“Well I’m not going to sleep nude with my adorable grandsons! That would just be wrong!”
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)