In Soviet Russia, ticket writes YOU!
But this isn't Soviet Russia. This is America, where things like the following tend to occur.
Title: In Soviet Russia, Ticket Writes You!
Author: fallenxembers17
Characters: America, Russia
Rating: PG for language
Warnings: America's foul mouth. History!crack.
Summary: Soviet Russia is intent on parking in America's spot. America is not happy.
edit; LOL WHOOPS. Inspiration came from this post.
The first time it happened, America was perfectly willing to let it slide. It could've easily been an accident, he told himself, despite the fact that the curb proclaimed his name in big black letters. An accident. Surely.
When he tried to tell himself that the third time, he wanted to slap himself in disgust.
By the tenth time, he was intent on mauling the man - fuck the repercussions!
America started trying to get up earlier, trying to beat Russia to his own spot. It never worked. Somehow, Russia always got in the spot and in the building before America could say, “Hey, bastard!” and slam the jerk against that stupid shiny black thing.
He wrote tickets himself. (None of them were paid.)
He set his alarm for four in the morning. (He slept through it anyways.)
He tried to pull an all-night stake-out. (He fell asleep by midnight.)
A month into the ordeal, America wasn't feeling like much of a hero - a slump that certainly wasn't helped by Russia's angelic smiles and batshit insane giggles. It was beyond frustrating, being parkblocked by his enemy-slash-ally-slash-sometimes-lover-slash-asshole. He knew that about a hundred tickets had been written for Russia alone, plus many, many more for the other commies - was the bastard instructing his people on how to piss Americans off? - and yet it kept happening.
So one day, one fateful meeting America simply dropped all pretense and just shoved the whole fucking ticket pad in Russia's face.
“Here, have some tickets,” he snarled.
A pause. “But in Soviet Russia, tickets write you!” This outburst was followed by an annoying high-pitched giggle. America's right eye twitched. The joke flew over his head, but the confusion only stopped him briefly.
“STOP. PARKING. IN. MY. GODDAMN. SPOT.”
“...but where is the fun in that?” Another giggle, another angelic smile
America proceeded to throttle Russia very thoroughly.
I'M SO SORRY I DUNNO BLAME PYRRHIC.
Pagaille - dude, I am SO working on that China taking over the world fic RIGHT NOW. It's way dark though. >o>;
A quick personal note - I am currently binging on classical music. Thanks, Will. Also, I just went through most of the Eurovision '09 entries. THE FUCK, EUROPE. Where is your talent. (Estonia's kind of kicked ass, though.) Also, I am such a nerd for history that I brought my European History textbook home this weekend. To read. For fun. (I already spent a good 5 minutes giggling over the war of Austrian Succession...
Title: In Soviet Russia, Ticket Writes You!
Author: fallenxembers17
Characters: America, Russia
Rating: PG for language
Warnings: America's foul mouth. History!crack.
Summary: Soviet Russia is intent on parking in America's spot. America is not happy.
edit; LOL WHOOPS. Inspiration came from this post.
The first time it happened, America was perfectly willing to let it slide. It could've easily been an accident, he told himself, despite the fact that the curb proclaimed his name in big black letters. An accident. Surely.
When he tried to tell himself that the third time, he wanted to slap himself in disgust.
By the tenth time, he was intent on mauling the man - fuck the repercussions!
America started trying to get up earlier, trying to beat Russia to his own spot. It never worked. Somehow, Russia always got in the spot and in the building before America could say, “Hey, bastard!” and slam the jerk against that stupid shiny black thing.
He wrote tickets himself. (None of them were paid.)
He set his alarm for four in the morning. (He slept through it anyways.)
He tried to pull an all-night stake-out. (He fell asleep by midnight.)
A month into the ordeal, America wasn't feeling like much of a hero - a slump that certainly wasn't helped by Russia's angelic smiles and batshit insane giggles. It was beyond frustrating, being parkblocked by his enemy-slash-ally-slash-sometimes-lover-slash-asshole. He knew that about a hundred tickets had been written for Russia alone, plus many, many more for the other commies - was the bastard instructing his people on how to piss Americans off? - and yet it kept happening.
So one day, one fateful meeting America simply dropped all pretense and just shoved the whole fucking ticket pad in Russia's face.
“Here, have some tickets,” he snarled.
A pause. “But in Soviet Russia, tickets write you!” This outburst was followed by an annoying high-pitched giggle. America's right eye twitched. The joke flew over his head, but the confusion only stopped him briefly.
“STOP. PARKING. IN. MY. GODDAMN. SPOT.”
“...but where is the fun in that?” Another giggle, another angelic smile
America proceeded to throttle Russia very thoroughly.
I'M SO SORRY I DUNNO BLAME PYRRHIC.
Pagaille - dude, I am SO working on that China taking over the world fic RIGHT NOW. It's way dark though. >o>;
A quick personal note - I am currently binging on classical music. Thanks, Will. Also, I just went through most of the Eurovision '09 entries. THE FUCK, EUROPE. Where is your talent. (Estonia's kind of kicked ass, though.) Also, I am such a nerd for history that I brought my European History textbook home this weekend. To read. For fun. (I already spent a good 5 minutes giggling over the war of Austrian Succession...