It wasn't always a custom for Italy Romano to go out and eat with other countries, much less England. And it was also not a custom to go out to just simply dine. He had always had to carry paperwork with him to the table when talking with Germany, or having a conversation with even America. And England kept calling him Lovino, his human name, and he couldn't say that he disliked it.
England himself was wearing a nice get up. Not stylish compared to what Lovino had chosen to wear for the evening, but good looking and fitting for the English man. The Italian was liking it.
Many a time while they ate in silence, Lovino would catch
FrUk- I wish to help... by bones-sickle, literature
Literature
FrUk- I wish to help...
Fire sent the sky ablaze even in the darkest night as bombers made their way across chilled skies, their burdens dropped on a defenseless city. But... so was the way with war. He watched the skies shoot flames as another explosion erupted in the streets of London, men, women, and children fleeing for cover and their lives as their homes were turned to ash.
There was nothing he could do but watch, gaze across the Channel as his precious person was harmed because he could do nothing. Germany had taken his own precious city, Paris left in ruin under the soldiers of the man he once believed to be a friend. Germany's new b
A sigh escaped the man's lips as he closed the night-table's only drawer, a sepia photo wrapped tenderly in some soft fabric.
It was a photo after the Allied victory over the Axis Powers, after America had bombed the Japanese into submission and the second World War had reached a conclusion.
All of them had stood for a group photo- Russia, with his oddly creepy smile; China, unfortunate enough to be stationed next to the grinning Russian; America, boisterous and obnoxious compared to the rest of them even during a celebration; Canada, immensely pleased to be part of a photo, let alone noticed for once, stood beside his brother with his pola
The Cold Months are Coming by M-B-Skye, literature
Literature
The Cold Months are Coming
"Wait, wait, wait How do I do this again?"
"You have to spread your legs more, mon cheri."
"L-let go of me, you git! Your hands all over me doesn't help!"
"You just have to relax, dear."
"I can't relax!"
"But look how well Antonio and Lovino are doing. They're practically professionals."
"Don't look at them! Stop embarrassing me!"
"And what about Kiku? I thought he was giving you lessons?"
"Alfred found out and we had to stop "
"I wish I could have gotten it on videotape. It must have been funny."
"Oh, bludgeon yourself, frog! And I told you to let me go! Waahhh, don't let me go!!"
Francis smiled and gently held onto Art
A woman's voice spoke in his ear, pre-recorded and uneven.
"Nine new messages."
The Frenchman blinked in what might be loosely described as surprise.
Nine?
He didn't usually get that many calls- most of his conversations went by text message.
First new message from-"
The voice switched to a man's, the two words spoken smoothly:
"Arthur Kirkland."
Arthur?
"Received at eight thirty-four PM."
"Hi, frog, it's me, Arthur. I wanted to know if you wanted to go drinking or something- I'm bored to death and I don't want to wake up tomorrow in someone's bed. Call me back if you get this in time."
Arthur had wanted to go drinking with him? Wa
It was times like these where Arthur wished he could just think.
Not that he didn't have the time- he was actually quite busy with his free time these past few days. No, he had plenty of time to think.
He just couldn't do it.
It was times like these when he'd try to go to bed, and he'd find that he just couldn't sleep.
His eyes just wouldn't stay closed, his body wouldn't stay still long enough for sleep to come.
He could sleep just fine during meetings, but when it came to putting his head on the pillow it just didn't work. He was too restless- he felt there was something he still needed to do, something that if he could just get it don
The rain stung Arthur's eyes as he walked down the street to his house. Clutching his coat around him, he made for his front steps. It was hard work because the wind was blowing a gale, and Arthur cursed his bad luck weather wise. By the time he reached the gate, his coat was soaked. He'd left work perfectly dry, but it started to rain on the way back and he'd forgotten his umbrella.
Arthur shivered as he reached into his bag, yawned, and retrieved his keys. He unlocked the door and breathed a sigh of relief. He was glad to be home in the warm.
Arthur was partly glad to be home because of the rain, and partly because he had had a st
After nearly dropping his stuffed toy alien Tony in complete shock, little Alfred bounded back up the stairs. He ran as quietly as he could, being careful to avoid the stair that creaked and raced to his brother’s room. This was big. This was amazing! This was something a five year old almost never saw! That’s why he had to get Matthew. Quick, before it was gone forever. Alfred was certain this would never, ever happen again.
Throwing the door open, he raced over and began shaking his asleep twin. Although, Alfred was not that gentle about it.
“Mattie! Mattie, you gotta come downstairs! Quick! It’s awesome!” Th
"He's a pig!"
Arthur tightened his arms around his knees as he sat in the dirt. Usually, the gentleman would have shunned the man who ruined his trousers by wallowing in such filth. But Arthur was so angry and repulsed, he was unable to think about his gentlemanly instincts first before sitting on the earth in his garden.
Anyone who could have watched Arthur sit on the ground would have thought he was crazy. He was speaking to a few of his faithful friends who lived in the rose bush. They were too small to fly around in the open, because their wings were very delicate. Also, they were annoyed at how many people thought they didn't exist. Th
Francis looked down at the floor, pouting like a three year old child that had just been denied a cookie. Arthur had just completely ignored him- well, not completely. They had just finished dinner and Francis had tried to get him out of washing the dishes and into bed, like a good lover would, but no! as soon as he'd gone to touch Arthur's chest exactly how he liked it he'd gotten a gentle elbow-to-the-face and a sharp word.
"Not now," came Arthur's slightly-irritated reprimand. "I have to finish these before they start to smell."
Thus, Francis had gone to pout, sitting in a chair by the fireplace and staring at the floor between his knees