Something In The Way 1/?
anonymous
October 17 2009, 05:01:10 UTC
This may be a bit slowgoing as I haven't been feeling well lately, but here's the first part!They say the road to hell is paved with good intentions, and looking back, America had to wonder if France knew this when he decided to confront him
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Re: Something In The Way 3/?
anonymous
October 23 2009, 02:01:08 UTC
Damn I wish I'd known to check my requested fills earlier. The OP!anon fails.
So, you know the drill. I love you. You're fantastic. This is pretty much the highlight of my day. I love the way you write America and I love the way you write England and I love the way America's so oblivious and England's so (dare I say it?! Le gasp! I've resorted to French!) badass while remaining in-character and the interactions just have me grinning so hard.
Something In The Way 4a/?
anonymous
October 24 2009, 00:53:50 UTC
It had been years since he'd touched it, but his guitar was still in good shape, if a little out of tune. America knew that the other nations would scoff if they knew he owned one, believing his music was only good for rap, country and irritating pop. Of course, if they brought this up to him, he’d be all to happy to remind them that rock music had been born in the good old US of A.
He liked to look back fondly on those days, when life seemed simple and rock and roll was being formed from other classic styles of his people. He too had rocked around the clock, followed Elvis's music religiously, gone down to the beaches to enjoy surf music and mourned "the day the music died."
He plucked a few strings on his guitar as he carefully tuned it, and when a chord produced the perfect sound, he couldn't help but belt out one of the King's classics.
"Well, since my baby left me-" Strum strum! "I found a new place to dwell-" Strum strum! "It's down at the end of lonely street at heartbreak hotel!" He smirked to himself, satisfied. Still got
( ... )
Something In The Way 4b/?
anonymous
October 24 2009, 00:54:52 UTC
America quickly set up the amp, old, but still enough to do the private concert he had planned, and took his guitar in hand. He smiled winningly at England and started to play what he’d practiced so long and so hard. He'd barely started the song when England raised his eyebrow in recognition and lowered his arms. America smirked in return. That’s right, he thought, Eric Clapton, one of your boys
( ... )
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So, you know the drill. I love you. You're fantastic. This is pretty much the highlight of my day. I love the way you write America and I love the way you write England and I love the way America's so oblivious and England's so (dare I say it?! Le gasp! I've resorted to French!) badass while remaining in-character and the interactions just have me grinning so hard.
ilu author!anon. So much. And so hard.
Would you like that internet now, or later?
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Thanks so much for the encouragement!
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He liked to look back fondly on those days, when life seemed simple and rock and roll was being formed from other classic styles of his people. He too had rocked around the clock, followed Elvis's music religiously, gone down to the beaches to enjoy surf music and mourned "the day the music died."
He plucked a few strings on his guitar as he carefully tuned it, and when a chord produced the perfect sound, he couldn't help but belt out one of the King's classics.
"Well, since my baby left me-" Strum strum! "I found a new place to dwell-" Strum strum! "It's down at the end of lonely street at heartbreak hotel!" He smirked to himself, satisfied. Still got ( ... )
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Anyway, this chapter was utterly hilarious :'D
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