Not one of the anons who originally offered to fill it but I hope OP enjoys? I wasn't exactly sure what you were expecting so I let my mind go and... this was what happened.
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The first thing that he thought was that he must be in a cocoon.
His finger twitching at the end of his sore arm, he could feel the tightness of the sheets as if they had been zealously tucked in under the mattress (this he could feel against his back, the springs that groaned at his slight movement which were quickly discouraged by sharp pains shooting everywhere) by a caretaker (for he could feel no ropes, chains, or any of that sort of restriction on his limbs) who was quite eager to restrict his movements
( ... )
Farewell to Lumina [4a/??]
anonymous
June 22 2009, 10:17:30 UTC
Anon apologizes for the delay! Some stuff came up and I also wanted to put in some research too so that I don't go in completely overwhelmed 0.o
There's some swearing this time but I'm sure you all heard the f-bomb dropped before. Oh and some offensive-ness maybe...?
Also I would just like to say: I was (and still am) nervous about writing England, scared about writing America, and terrified about writing real people. In other words, I'm sorry for any OOC-ness you may see as well as gratuitous use of historical figures ;;America wiped the sweat from his brows
( ... )
Farewell to Lumina [4b/??]
anonymous
June 22 2009, 10:18:35 UTC
The room shook from the impact of his boot. No, this was all Germany’s fault. Stupid Germany and his stupid lunatic boss. Fuck. He pounded his fists on the railing, the metal ringing in his ears so clearly. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. He found rhythm in his fists, slow at first, then gaining momentum from fury he didn’t know he had. Like the drums of a rock and roll blasting from a radio.
(“Aw c’mon England. I know you really like it”)
Fuck you, Germany. Fuck you and your Luftwaffe shit. Take your planes and shove them up your Nazi ass! Fuck fuck fuck fuck. Ring ring ring ring. Pound pound pound pound
( ... )
Farewell to Lumina [5a/??]
anonymous
June 22 2009, 21:39:36 UTC
Actual hurt and comfort now maybe?
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It was going to rain soon.
Peeking out from behind the heavy curtains meant to protect them from possible air raids, America regarded the gray clouds absent-mindedly, his fingers intertwined with the fabric. England was too rainy: it seemed like every single time he’d visited, London would meet him with pouring rain. As if England was never in a good mood to see him.
Well, he has good reason to feel down this time.He closed his eyes to the world, wondering what it would feel like. The King had been injured by the bombings on Buckingham Palace; they weren’t even sure if he would make it. And Churchill: God what a time to have a heart attack. Did England know? Could he feel it? He breathed in the musky air gathered from behind the curtain as he thought of him. England smelled of cool air and moist earth; sometimes of spices and tea, and before that, of the sea
( ... )
Farewell to Lumina [5b/??]
anonymous
June 22 2009, 21:40:48 UTC
Without answering, England turned his head back to face the wall in front of him. Unseeing yet seeming like he could see right through it all.
“Perhaps I am being vain. I am sure things have gotten complicated with you here.”
He shouldn’t have felt irritation at that but he did. Was he blaming him for this? “Yeah well the visit was unexpected so…”
His eyes drifted downward to England’s hands. Just as pale as the rest of him, not encased in gloves for once. His fingers were long but not skeletal. At least not yet. There were tell-tale signs of a burn on both of them, splotchy red spreading like ink against the white.
He… was not going to hold them.
“George.”
“Huh?”
For a moment America wondered if England was confusing him with someone else. He did announce himself but maybe England couldn’t really distinguish between voices. Could be that a lot of guys sounded like him or something…
Not one of the anons who originally offered to fill it but I hope OP enjoys? I wasn't exactly sure what you were expecting so I let my mind go and... this was what happened.
--------------------------
The first thing that he thought was that he must be in a cocoon.
His finger twitching at the end of his sore arm, he could feel the tightness of the sheets as if they had been zealously tucked in under the mattress (this he could feel against his back, the springs that groaned at his slight movement which were quickly discouraged by sharp pains shooting everywhere) by a caretaker (for he could feel no ropes, chains, or any of that sort of restriction on his limbs) who was quite eager to restrict his movements ( ... )
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*F5's like mad*
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There's some swearing this time but I'm sure you all heard the f-bomb dropped before. Oh and some offensive-ness maybe...?
Also I would just like to say: I was (and still am) nervous about writing England, scared about writing America, and terrified about writing real people. In other words, I'm sorry for any OOC-ness you may see as well as gratuitous use of historical figures ;;America wiped the sweat from his brows ( ... )
Reply
(“Aw c’mon England. I know you really like it”)
Fuck you, Germany. Fuck you and your Luftwaffe shit. Take your planes and shove them up your Nazi ass! Fuck fuck fuck fuck. Ring ring ring ring. Pound pound pound pound ( ... )
Reply
Fucking Luftwaffe.
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Alright, that done... *resumes F5-ing*
The description on Arthur's bandages, those bandages were already working like a "restraint". It hurts so much~
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If my mind is correct, there's more hurt in store *facepalm* I think I'm enjoying this way too much.
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It was going to rain soon.
Peeking out from behind the heavy curtains meant to protect them from possible air raids, America regarded the gray clouds absent-mindedly, his fingers intertwined with the fabric. England was too rainy: it seemed like every single time he’d visited, London would meet him with pouring rain. As if England was never in a good mood to see him.
Well, he has good reason to feel down this time.He closed his eyes to the world, wondering what it would feel like. The King had been injured by the bombings on Buckingham Palace; they weren’t even sure if he would make it. And Churchill: God what a time to have a heart attack. Did England know? Could he feel it? He breathed in the musky air gathered from behind the curtain as he thought of him. England smelled of cool air and moist earth; sometimes of spices and tea, and before that, of the sea ( ... )
Reply
“Perhaps I am being vain. I am sure things have gotten complicated with you here.”
He shouldn’t have felt irritation at that but he did. Was he blaming him for this? “Yeah well the visit was unexpected so…”
His eyes drifted downward to England’s hands. Just as pale as the rest of him, not encased in gloves for once. His fingers were long but not skeletal. At least not yet. There were tell-tale signs of a burn on both of them, splotchy red spreading like ink against the white.
He… was not going to hold them.
“George.”
“Huh?”
For a moment America wondered if England was confusing him with someone else. He did announce himself but maybe England couldn’t really distinguish between voices. Could be that a lot of guys sounded like him or something…
“… It’s actually Al--“
“He died, didn’t he?”
Oh. That George ( ... )
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The Buckingham Palace was actually bombed apparently. However, no one was hurt unlike in this story.
'Lilibet' refers to Queen Elizabeth II; I believe it was her pet name when she was younger?
Ahaha, yeah... >.>
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GO ARTHUR! ♥
And yeah, I think that is Queen Elizabeth's nickname.
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Marry me Writer!Anon?
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But asdfjkl;I really am glad you're enjoying it *______*
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