OP asked for America being a secret Shakespeare expert and England's reaction. I took it one step farther and played with it. Title is also shamelessly pulled from Shakespeare in Love because I couldn't think of one.
-------- England was pretty sure that this was a first. He was quite sure that it was a first, because he had never been sent a love poem before. And it wasn’t a rubbish poem, either, that some poor soul had written, hoping that it was good. No, it came straight from the Bard himself.
America in Love [1b/?]
anonymous
June 22 2010, 02:08:48 UTC
Same time period, different subject. And it wasn’t North Italy, either, for everyone within a ten mile radius knew that North Italy and Germany were together. Hell, he was pretty sure that their entire countries knew they were together
( ... )
Re: America in Love [1b/?]
anonymous
June 22 2010, 02:35:37 UTC
... So cute. :D
I love your characterization here, especially England's massive blind spot towards America and the way he apparently always has time to gloat over terrorizing Spain. <3 And awesome choice of sonnet; it's a good one, and it's probably the one I'd choose for these guys. Uh. The happy one. If you want a melancholy one, I'd choose 120 (England to America). Being an angst whore and all!
That you were once unkind befriends me now, And for that sorrow which I then did feel Needs must I under my transgression bow, Unless my nerves were brass or hammered steel. For if you were by my unkindness shaken, As I by yours, you’ve passed a hell of time, And I, a tyrant, have no leisure taken To weigh how once I suffered in your crime. O that our night of woe might have rememb’red My deepest sense, how hard true sorrow hits, And soon to you as you to me then tendered The humble salve which wounded bosoms fits! But that your trespass now becomes a fee; Mine ransoms yours, and yours must ransom me.
Re: America in Love [1b/?]
anonymous
June 22 2010, 13:19:40 UTC
I already like this fill, Alfred who is actually smarter than he looks (YES), Arthur totally lost at his forte (Shakespeare's against you this time Arthur!)
That and the fact you added Spain in just for spite, that's ftw.
America in Love [2a/?]
anonymous
June 23 2010, 20:03:51 UTC
I would like to state, that this sonnet is all a certain friend of mine's fault, since she encouraged me. You know who you are. >.> But it did work out, and if you don't exactly...get the meaning of the sonnet, sparknotes it.
----------- The next note was on his desk the next morning folded twice over on proper stationary. Flicking it open, it was the sort of stationary a woman would use, covered with a flower border. But it couldn’t be any woman he would know, so they were just using it to confuse him.
The poem wasn’t nearly as ambiguous.
Love is too young to know what conscience is
( ... )
America in Love [2b/?]
anonymous
June 23 2010, 20:05:31 UTC
“So, what’s on your mind?” England looked up from his tea to see America staring at him from across the table, chin in his hand and elbow on the table
( ... )
Re: America in Love [2b/?]
anonymous
June 24 2010, 00:03:55 UTC
Oh England, honey ... XD He's really not at his most perceptive when it comes to America, is he? Poor America; I'd feel sorrier for him, but I'm willing to bet that all your readers want to bang him right now, so!
And awesome choice of sonnet again, although I wouldn't have chosen that one. I had forgotten it existed, actually. ORZ
Naughty, naughty, England. No eating croissants, especially in front of America.
... I have a strange feeling I know whose advice he's seeking, anon. <3
America in Love [3a/?]
anonymous
June 27 2010, 21:52:33 UTC
This one isn't a sonnet, it's four lines from Act 1, Scene 1 of A Midsummer Night's Dream, because I found these lines expressed what I wanted to express, and couldn't find a sonnet.
------ “Sonnet 151, hm?” France asked, leering across the table at England who blushed bright red and kicked him, hard.
“Stop making it…dirty! Or something!” Even though it was dirty, in a way, but England couldn’t get the way America had explained it out of his head. ‘It’s unconditional love, but it’s not the platonic, untouchable love, it’s more of an earthly, passionate, ‘I love you so much I want you’ love.’ It sounded so utterly romantic, explained that way.
In all honesty, it sent shivers up and down his spine. But only if America had been talking about him that way, then maybe he would really have something to shiver about. He blinked, and realized that France was still staring at him, an eyebrow raised.
“Mon ami, you do realize you just shivered.” England gave him a questioning glance. France sighed and elaborated. “I have seen it enough to
( ... )
America in Love [3b/?]
anonymous
June 27 2010, 21:57:01 UTC
“Angleterre, think of who you are saying it to. Of course I don’t think it pathetic. However, I do think it pathetic that you have yet to tell him and that you are discounting him from being the one sending you the poems.”
“Oh, really now. Think about it, France. What are the chances that America could also be in love with me and trying to woo me through Shakespeare?”
“Stranger things have happened,” he said, hiding a smile behind his wine glass. “Like you falling in love with him in the first place.”
“Are you going to help me, or aren’t you?” England asked, fed up and frustrated with France insisting that it was America. It couldn’t be.
“Sorry, but I don’t have any idea, other than your one true love,” England glared and France continued on oblivious, “and it is most certainly not me. My advice…forget all about it and confess your love to Amerique. You will be ten times happier
( ... )
OP asked for America being a secret Shakespeare expert and England's reaction. I took it one step farther and played with it. Title is also shamelessly pulled from Shakespeare in Love because I couldn't think of one.
--------
England was pretty sure that this was a first. He was quite sure that it was a first, because he had never been sent a love poem before. And it wasn’t a rubbish poem, either, that some poor soul had written, hoping that it was good. No, it came straight from the Bard himself.
Let me not to the marriage of true minds ( ... )
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I love your characterization here, especially England's massive blind spot towards America and the way he apparently always has time to gloat over terrorizing Spain. <3 And awesome choice of sonnet; it's a good one, and it's probably the one I'd choose for these guys. Uh. The happy one. If you want a melancholy one, I'd choose 120 (England to America). Being an angst whore and all!
Also, d'aw, sad kicked-puppy!America is sad. D:
ReCAPTCHA: "doped on" Er.
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And for that sorrow which I then did feel
Needs must I under my transgression bow,
Unless my nerves were brass or hammered steel.
For if you were by my unkindness shaken,
As I by yours, you’ve passed a hell of time,
And I, a tyrant, have no leisure taken
To weigh how once I suffered in your crime.
O that our night of woe might have rememb’red
My deepest sense, how hard true sorrow hits,
And soon to you as you to me then tendered
The humble salve which wounded bosoms fits!
But that your trespass now becomes a fee;
Mine ransoms yours, and yours must ransom me.
Just spreading the Shakespeare. ~_^
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*brofist*
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That and the fact you added Spain in just for spite, that's ftw.
/F5-ing
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-----------
The next note was on his desk the next morning folded twice over on proper stationary. Flicking it open, it was the sort of stationary a woman would use, covered with a flower border. But it couldn’t be any woman he would know, so they were just using it to confuse him.
The poem wasn’t nearly as ambiguous.
Love is too young to know what conscience is ( ... )
Reply
Reply
And awesome choice of sonnet again, although I wouldn't have chosen that one. I had forgotten it existed, actually. ORZ
Naughty, naughty, England. No eating croissants, especially in front of America.
... I have a strange feeling I know whose advice he's seeking, anon. <3
Reply
I really love this fill so far. Keep it up! <3
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God, I'm such a sucker for this fill, anon. What the hell? <3
Reply
------
“Sonnet 151, hm?” France asked, leering across the table at England who blushed bright red and kicked him, hard.
“Stop making it…dirty! Or something!” Even though it was dirty, in a way, but England couldn’t get the way America had explained it out of his head. ‘It’s unconditional love, but it’s not the platonic, untouchable love, it’s more of an earthly, passionate, ‘I love you so much I want you’ love.’ It sounded so utterly romantic, explained that way.
In all honesty, it sent shivers up and down his spine. But only if America had been talking about him that way, then maybe he would really have something to shiver about. He blinked, and realized that France was still staring at him, an eyebrow raised.
“Mon ami, you do realize you just shivered.” England gave him a questioning glance. France sighed and elaborated. “I have seen it enough to ( ... )
Reply
“Oh, really now. Think about it, France. What are the chances that America could also be in love with me and trying to woo me through Shakespeare?”
“Stranger things have happened,” he said, hiding a smile behind his wine glass. “Like you falling in love with him in the first place.”
“Are you going to help me, or aren’t you?” England asked, fed up and frustrated with France insisting that it was America. It couldn’t be.
“Sorry, but I don’t have any idea, other than your one true love,” England glared and France continued on oblivious, “and it is most certainly not me. My advice…forget all about it and confess your love to Amerique. You will be ten times happier ( ... )
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