[fic] Become One With Canada (Hetalia; PruCan) 17/29+
Busy weekend was busy and nice. It's been way too long since I last spent time with Tina. My pretty lil' loli~ I've also bought the material for my secret cosplay for Uppcon hur hur and I've been a good boy and watched not one but two horror movies. I hate horror movies.
Either way, this is the weekly update of Become One With Canada.
A German and His Beer part 2
by exorcistor
Fandom: Axis Powers Hetalia
People/pairings: Prussia/Canada, Italy (kind of)
Word count: around 1000
Genre: fluff
Rating: worksafe
Note: New Prussia is a geographic location in Wilmot Township, Waterloo Region, Ontario, Canada. Just a bit of cute for you guys this time. Also un-beta'd, as usual.
---
It was early afternoon on a particularly crisp and sunny day in September, when Canada’s cell suddenly buzzed against his thigh. The display flashed a small, yellow bird chirping happily that he’d gotten a new message from Sir Awesome. Canada’s mouth twitched; Prussia had taken a fondness to installing these little features on his phone, and now it showed a bird for the albino, as well as a tank (which blew itself up) for America, a unicorn for England, a dog for Germany, and a… actually, Canada should make sure to change the display motion picture for France the next time he had the opportunity.
As he clicked the ’read message’ option, his brow furrowed upon seeing the first, completely unreadable line in… it was German, right? Canada had been attempting to learn a bit of Prussia’s previous tongue, but things were going slow with the grammar, and… he actually doubted this was proper grammar. Or spelling.
He scrolled down in hopes of finding at least some kind of hint in English to how he should interpret the message, but there was nothing.
Frowning, Canada typed a reply to let Prussia know he didn’t understand, and if what he wanted to tell Canada was important, he should try in English instead.
Before he’d even sent his own message, however, the bird popped onto the display again. This time, Sir Awesome wrote in English. Or, at least Canada figured it was supposed to be English.
’Matt you shoul coe german with me. Drink lotsa beer next year. Is awesod hells Yeah!’
…which translated to something along the lines of Prussia inviting him to come to the next Oktoberfest with him. Canada glanced at his watch, quickly adding a few hours, coming up with…
Eight pm. Prussia was already too drunk to type at eight pm?
Over the next few hours, Canada continued to receive several texts and picture messages, all conveying with misspellings and blur how awesome Prussia considered his time spent in the company of his brother, at least 10000 other drunk Germans and enough bees to fill up a large lake was. Canada couldn’t do anything else but smile and sigh. He had planned on going with Prussia to Oktoberfest this year, but then he’d gotten stuck with paperwork and meetings all through September.
So now, over the three weeks Prussia would be over in Europe with his brother, drinking himself to oblivion, all they had to keep contact was their cell phones. So far, he’d gotten about one message a day, first one with a picture of Germany in the short (and rather ridiculous looking, according to Canada) pants which were part of his and Prussia’s national dress, and then one of Prussia himself in them (and this time, Canada didn’t think that the pants looked quite as ridiculous anymore, as they revealed Prussia’s legs and framed his well sculpted chest quite nicely). On this fourth night, however, Prussia seemed to have decided texting and taking pictures was about the funniest thing he’d ever done.
When the texts had stopped containing actual words - even attempts at actual words - and looked mostly like Prussia had simply just smashed the keys on his phone, Canada stopped paying much attention and just deleted the messages as they came in. Thus, he almost missed out on the final text for the night (he counted it as being around five in the morning in Germany), which said:
‘miss you. German pancakes doesnt taste ass good as yours’
He sniggered at the misspelling and couldn’t help but to answer playfully:
‘I doubt there are any pancakes in the world that taste anything like my behind.’
The reply took only a couple of minutes:
‘so when youre goin lett me know that taste lkle huh’
Canada snorted. He could have sent back a reminder that the reason the two of them hadn’t gotten that far yet wasn’t in fact, because Canada wasn’t willing, but because America seemed to have developed an eerie ability to pop up at Canada’s doorstep and demand a movie night or something similar every time they attempted to take things to the next level.
Canada had thought about calling England and beg him to take his twin in for a week or so, preventing hi to act on it when his ‘little-brother’s-chastity-threatened-by-German-bastard’ radar went off. But the thing was that he greatly doubted that England would agree to housing America for that long. Especially if he suspected the reason why Canada didn’t want him nearby for that period of time.
The next day, his phone was mysteriously silent. Canada took that as a sign that Prussia was too busy nursing his hangover - or hiding from it by drinking more - to care much for his phone.
On the day after that, he got a surprise as a plate of pasta, surrounded by twinkling stars popped up on his display, happily announcing that he’d gotten a picture message from Italy. Canada had never gotten a message from Italy before, and he clicked on it with his teeth worrying at his lower lip, wondering what on earth the European country could want with him. The message was titled ‘Germany sent me; isn’t it ~*~CUTE~*~? d(^.^-)--ℓ’ and it contained a picture of a very, very oblivious Prussia, who laid slumped over a table, one pint of beer forgotten in his hand, and a whole nest of not only one, not even two, but four birds of the same kind that normally accompanied him sitting on his head. There were two more birds perched on either of his shoulders, and a last one had even taken the liberty of diving straight into the beer, and was now using it as a bird fountain of sorts.
Canada was fully on to what Italy meant by ‘cute’. Because it was.
He let it replace his own flag as his display picture.
And then he changed France’s pop-up gif while he was at it.
---
Previous | Next
People demanded fanart, and the amazing srsly_smrt has heard your prayer. It's so shiny *__*
Either way, this is the weekly update of Become One With Canada.
A German and His Beer part 2
by exorcistor
Fandom: Axis Powers Hetalia
People/pairings: Prussia/Canada, Italy (kind of)
Word count: around 1000
Genre: fluff
Rating: worksafe
Note: New Prussia is a geographic location in Wilmot Township, Waterloo Region, Ontario, Canada. Just a bit of cute for you guys this time. Also un-beta'd, as usual.
---
It was early afternoon on a particularly crisp and sunny day in September, when Canada’s cell suddenly buzzed against his thigh. The display flashed a small, yellow bird chirping happily that he’d gotten a new message from Sir Awesome. Canada’s mouth twitched; Prussia had taken a fondness to installing these little features on his phone, and now it showed a bird for the albino, as well as a tank (which blew itself up) for America, a unicorn for England, a dog for Germany, and a… actually, Canada should make sure to change the display motion picture for France the next time he had the opportunity.
As he clicked the ’read message’ option, his brow furrowed upon seeing the first, completely unreadable line in… it was German, right? Canada had been attempting to learn a bit of Prussia’s previous tongue, but things were going slow with the grammar, and… he actually doubted this was proper grammar. Or spelling.
He scrolled down in hopes of finding at least some kind of hint in English to how he should interpret the message, but there was nothing.
Frowning, Canada typed a reply to let Prussia know he didn’t understand, and if what he wanted to tell Canada was important, he should try in English instead.
Before he’d even sent his own message, however, the bird popped onto the display again. This time, Sir Awesome wrote in English. Or, at least Canada figured it was supposed to be English.
’Matt you shoul coe german with me. Drink lotsa beer next year. Is awesod hells Yeah!’
…which translated to something along the lines of Prussia inviting him to come to the next Oktoberfest with him. Canada glanced at his watch, quickly adding a few hours, coming up with…
Eight pm. Prussia was already too drunk to type at eight pm?
Over the next few hours, Canada continued to receive several texts and picture messages, all conveying with misspellings and blur how awesome Prussia considered his time spent in the company of his brother, at least 10000 other drunk Germans and enough bees to fill up a large lake was. Canada couldn’t do anything else but smile and sigh. He had planned on going with Prussia to Oktoberfest this year, but then he’d gotten stuck with paperwork and meetings all through September.
So now, over the three weeks Prussia would be over in Europe with his brother, drinking himself to oblivion, all they had to keep contact was their cell phones. So far, he’d gotten about one message a day, first one with a picture of Germany in the short (and rather ridiculous looking, according to Canada) pants which were part of his and Prussia’s national dress, and then one of Prussia himself in them (and this time, Canada didn’t think that the pants looked quite as ridiculous anymore, as they revealed Prussia’s legs and framed his well sculpted chest quite nicely). On this fourth night, however, Prussia seemed to have decided texting and taking pictures was about the funniest thing he’d ever done.
When the texts had stopped containing actual words - even attempts at actual words - and looked mostly like Prussia had simply just smashed the keys on his phone, Canada stopped paying much attention and just deleted the messages as they came in. Thus, he almost missed out on the final text for the night (he counted it as being around five in the morning in Germany), which said:
‘miss you. German pancakes doesnt taste ass good as yours’
He sniggered at the misspelling and couldn’t help but to answer playfully:
‘I doubt there are any pancakes in the world that taste anything like my behind.’
The reply took only a couple of minutes:
‘so when youre goin lett me know that taste lkle huh’
Canada snorted. He could have sent back a reminder that the reason the two of them hadn’t gotten that far yet wasn’t in fact, because Canada wasn’t willing, but because America seemed to have developed an eerie ability to pop up at Canada’s doorstep and demand a movie night or something similar every time they attempted to take things to the next level.
Canada had thought about calling England and beg him to take his twin in for a week or so, preventing hi to act on it when his ‘little-brother’s-chastity-threatened-by-German-bastard’ radar went off. But the thing was that he greatly doubted that England would agree to housing America for that long. Especially if he suspected the reason why Canada didn’t want him nearby for that period of time.
The next day, his phone was mysteriously silent. Canada took that as a sign that Prussia was too busy nursing his hangover - or hiding from it by drinking more - to care much for his phone.
On the day after that, he got a surprise as a plate of pasta, surrounded by twinkling stars popped up on his display, happily announcing that he’d gotten a picture message from Italy. Canada had never gotten a message from Italy before, and he clicked on it with his teeth worrying at his lower lip, wondering what on earth the European country could want with him. The message was titled ‘Germany sent me; isn’t it ~*~CUTE~*~? d(^.^-)--ℓ’ and it contained a picture of a very, very oblivious Prussia, who laid slumped over a table, one pint of beer forgotten in his hand, and a whole nest of not only one, not even two, but four birds of the same kind that normally accompanied him sitting on his head. There were two more birds perched on either of his shoulders, and a last one had even taken the liberty of diving straight into the beer, and was now using it as a bird fountain of sorts.
Canada was fully on to what Italy meant by ‘cute’. Because it was.
He let it replace his own flag as his display picture.
And then he changed France’s pop-up gif while he was at it.
---
Previous | Next
People demanded fanart, and the amazing srsly_smrt has heard your prayer. It's so shiny *__*