Things settle far too quickly. One moment the wind is abusive and the next there is an utter absence. He opens his eyes and there is no trace that anything is amiss or ever was. His room is immaculate, nothing has been overturned - his sheets don’t even look like they’ve been ruffled. The window stands solemn. Closed, just as he left it, and there is no sign of a figure perched on his window
( ... )
America has just a moment to look to her right and see England charging towards her before England grabs her hand and the two are running, or perhaps it is better to say that England is running and America is trying not to trip. The taller blond struggles to keep up, the pace seems inhuman, and a part of her wonders how much it would hurt if she tripped and fell. But there’s no time to think much of the subject for England is not relenting, her grip choking and comforting at the same time. America doesn’t look behind her, but the sounds of mayhem are enough to make her want to try, after a near slip she abandons the thought and concentrates on moving; attempts to keep up
( ... )
“I’ll instruct you. Haven’t gotten much left, but it’ll do.” England nods, more to herself than to America, and moves to take a stance. The smaller blonde positions herself in front of America, facing out towards the clearing and America feels as if England is trying to shield her from a possible assault. America reaches for England’s shoulder, because she does not want to be protected - wants to be the protector herself - but England’s swift exhale stops all of America’s movements. England’s right hand suddenly swipes upwards and America can hear glass shattering from somewhere. And then there’s water entirely encasing them, almost like a bubble
( ... )
“Not the time!” England mutters and this time it is obvious that she is annoyed, the irritation drips from the statement and America has to force her self to focus. She brings her hands down to her sides again and closes her eyes once more
( ... )
And America does, she remembers the role she has to play, and forces the flames to spread rapidly, they happily comply. The monster tries desperately to stop the inferno’s assault, even going so far as to the cut the roots already caught in the flame’s grasp, but there is no escape. The blaze catches from one vine to another to another until the thing is a flailing mess of flames, screeching like a banshee
( ... )
Francis turns the key in his lock, readjusts the bag hanging off of his shoulder and stumbles into his apartment. He hears the faucet stop and is not surprised. Tonight he can only worry, because the world makes a little bit more sense, and not nearly enough yet
( ... )
The statement hits him like a brick - he hadn’t. Francis pulls a blank. He doesn’t know any other languages, but this one flew off his tongue, dripped out as if it was born on his lips. He’s got no explanation, and his brain desperately searches for one.
Arthur’s laughter wakes him from his daze, and Francis looks at him in mock horror. His question has been answered and he wishes that he still did not know.
“Ah, so that’s how it is.”
Arthur continues to laugh, probably so violently that he’ll injure himself in his current state; and Francis desperately wants him to just stop.
fucking word count....lets pretend that future medicine is very advanced…..and that I don’t have to do to much research to make that work….sorry for the lame excuse….and for my horrible French from the babble fish. That semester of French did me little good….the fact that this second chapter is way past its due date is also a lamentable fact….Sadly I can’t guarantee another chapter soon either. It will be here, but it will take a while….Thanks for all
( ... )
At 7:14 the phone rings, and Yao knows exactly who it is. He snatches the ear piece in one sudden movement and attempts not to glare at it. He fails. For a time he does only that, stare at the item with absolute disdain. It cries again, and he shoves it on to his ear - taps the small button
( ... )
Yao’s blood flows and coagulates cold. He doesn’t care, promises himself that. He’s far too old - he almost laughs at that, it’s a funny thought - to be overcome with grief and to anguish like some star crossed youth like Ivan would want him to. They both know it, but Ivan is trying hard to get a rise - because Ivan likes him rough and ragged and real, has never liked his façade; his supposed inner peace. Ivan has never cared for liars
( ... )
Alfred brightens and straightens himself just a little. Then as the fact starts to sink in so does everything else. Alfred’s face scrunches in utter confusion and he side glances Tony
( ... )
Prologue and 1st Chapter: http://hetalia-kink.livejournal.com/11813.html?thread=24869413#t24869413
Second Chapter starting now!
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Arthur’s laughter wakes him from his daze, and Francis looks at him in mock horror. His question has been answered and he wishes that he still did not know.
“Ah, so that’s how it is.”
Arthur continues to laugh, probably so violently that he’ll injure himself in his current state; and Francis desperately wants him to just stop.
fucking word count....lets pretend that future medicine is very advanced…..and that I don’t have to do to much research to make that work….sorry for the lame excuse….and for my horrible French from the babble fish. That semester of French did me little good….the fact that this second chapter is way past its due date is also a lamentable fact….Sadly I can’t guarantee another chapter soon either. It will be here, but it will take a while….Thanks for all ( ... )
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I look forward to seeing more of Ludwig and Francis! too *pulls out popcorn and starts F5ing*
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Lets hope that you enjoy them!! Thanks for the comment Anon!!
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Sorry for the late comment, though, Anon.
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