So Anon's had this idea lurking around in her head ever since someone mentioned fanarts with Prussia playing a flute, so~
Anon here wants some Pied-Piper-of-Hamelin!Prussia seducing another nation with his flute. Pairings are up to the writer!anon, (though OP is quite keen on Prussia/Hungary, but again, not necessary.)
This is...kind of creepy. ;_; I hope you enjoy anyway? ^^;
DanceHungary had always loved music. From the time she had been a child, music had been one of the few things that she had always loved, one of the few things that remained constant in her heart
( ... )
Re: Writer!anon here?
anonymous
May 4 2009, 23:58:20 UTC
Never blush! Modesty is not for the awesome such as you!
The worst part of it is that I'd just finished mine as you posted yours! But I'm so glad that you got the first fill, mine dwarfs in comparison to this greatness!
Orz! Please be forgiving of this piece of crap compared to the glory above. Classics!Anon hopes you like it anyway <3
__
She was beautiful, his Elizaveta… With her permanent smile, rolling waves of brunette hair and sparkling, green eyes. Gilbert would readily give anything for her in a heartbeat, protect her from any harm… anything and everything just to make her happy
( ... )
Re: Cursed [2/2]
anonymous
May 5 2009, 00:18:01 UTC
Gilbert finished his piece and looked out of his window… And there she was! Looking up in a trance, swaying to herself. Gilbert looked down at the flute in his hand, once again placing it to his lips… She started dancing again, moving closer to his house with every note he played. He never slowed, she never stopped
( ... )
Never Hear of That Country More [1/?]
anonymous
May 9 2009, 06:31:25 UTC
Anon apologizes for taking so long writing this - I’ve had a bit of a busy week. It doesn’t help that I have l337 procrastination skills.
The title of this piece comes from this version of the Pied Piper: http://www.indiana.edu/~librcsd/etext/piper/text.html. I’m still not sure what other stories I’ll have integrated in here, but I do plan on their being at least a few more, as is my tradition when I write these types of stories. ___
Chapter I February 23, 1947
One of these days, he’s going to dissolve completely. It’s close. So close, in the pale of his skin and the dark beneath his eyes.
Gilbert knows that he is dying. To him, he thinks he might as well be dead, because - fuck, he can’t live like this. He can’tHe curls up a little, pressing his back against the wall of his dirty little excuse of a house, and tries not to shake. He doesn’t once think about crying - he’s too awesome for that. Still, he tightens and tenses in an attempt
( ... )
Re: Never Hear of That Country More [2/?]
anonymous
May 9 2009, 06:33:58 UTC
Next to come are the small notebooks. He takes his time rifling through these, though it’s as much out of respect for the delicate material as it is for the things he remembers looking at them. He sees sketches of buildings, some of Fritz’s journal entries; once or twice he happens upon a picture of himself, and he likes seeing himself through Frederick’s eyes, noticing how he grows and looks more mature in each picture
( ... )
Anon here wants some Pied-Piper-of-Hamelin!Prussia seducing another nation with his flute. Pairings are up to the writer!anon, (though OP is quite keen on Prussia/Hungary, but again, not necessary.)
B: If you can make it dark and/or twisted-ish.
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DanceHungary had always loved music. From the time she had been a child, music had been one of the few things that she had always loved, one of the few things that remained constant in her heart ( ... )
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*shivers* Creepy and strangly sexy D:
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It's creepy, sad and for some reason sexy.
I-I can't find a single problem in it, it's just flawless!
You are one awesome anon!
*cowers in your shadow*
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Don't feel afraid to try this~! I'm sure the OP would love more fills, and I'm sure it'll be much better than my attempt! *blushes more*
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The worst part of it is that I'd just finished mine as you posted yours! But I'm so glad that you got the first fill, mine dwarfs in comparison to this greatness!
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Why... why did that part make me shudder?
OP would mention all of her favorite parts and comment on them, but she might as well just copypasta the whole fic.
I still haven't finished processing the awesomeness I've just witnessed, so I'll just re-read it with a 8D-struck expression until I do.
I'm extremely pleased with this, writer!Anon! Thank you.
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*blush* You are very welcome~! It was...strangely fun, so...Thank you for requesting? And I've glad you enjoyed! <3
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__
She was beautiful, his Elizaveta… With her permanent smile, rolling waves of brunette hair and sparkling, green eyes. Gilbert would readily give anything for her in a heartbeat, protect her from any harm… anything and everything just to make her happy ( ... )
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Good work; I especially love the emotion in the piece! And, of course...the ending line is like a slap to the face...
Good job~! ^^
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Yours was like, perfection in a post! This is drivel, orz. All my fills have been backlocked because I couldn't keep up with the all the requests Dx
(Orz, that last line totally broke my heart to write. But OP said they wanted sad, so...)
Thank you again! <3
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I loved your writing and was starting to go all aww~ when... that last line came up. XD It's just... *snickers*
... OP is grinning at the computer screen like a moron and failing at writing decent sentences out of sheer euphoria now. Ahaha~!! *facepalm*
And I'm not dissapointed AT ALL, second-fill!writer!Anon!! And how dare you say this is crappy?!! OP might just have to slap some sense into you.
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But at least I got a cool Captcha: in aprons. Now finish every sentence you make with that. /shotded
*OP hides in a hole*
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The title of this piece comes from this version of the Pied Piper: http://www.indiana.edu/~librcsd/etext/piper/text.html. I’m still not sure what other stories I’ll have integrated in here, but I do plan on their being at least a few more, as is my tradition when I write these types of stories.
___
Chapter I
February 23, 1947
One of these days, he’s going to dissolve completely. It’s close. So close, in the pale of his skin and the dark beneath his eyes.
Gilbert knows that he is dying. To him, he thinks he might as well be dead, because - fuck, he can’t live like this. He can’tHe curls up a little, pressing his back against the wall of his dirty little excuse of a house, and tries not to shake. He doesn’t once think about crying - he’s too awesome for that. Still, he tightens and tenses in an attempt ( ... )
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