HN_Post: Back Post 3
This series of posts consist of entries from my personal journal before I created this community to house them. Any information in this is outdated and thus the reason why I've disabled comments in select ones. Any fics or artwork is still up for concrit and comment but I'd just wanted to remind any browsers of my labeling for these particular posts.
About This Entry: This an image track for a scene in my developing fanfic at the time. I've given up on it at the moment but, I'm not sure what to do with it otherwise. One excerpt from that WIP fic is below the video to read: the video was meant the beginning and end. In the middle is a flashback. I wonder if I should put in the rest where Japan mistakes America's questions as innuendo, and France acts like a parent sorta? As a side note, V for Vendetta was relevant to the storyline before I decided to split up that part of it.
Always Stays the Same, Nothing Ever Changes...
I'm HikiibatoHada on Youtube. Don't be afraid to rate and/or comment and tell what you think. The irony here is that the piano piece playing in the background is Chopin. *somewhere in the world Austria's angry* If the embeded player doesn't work go here:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sUV-0KbJx-U
V Now in Words We Can Understand <- this is lol-worthy.
Title: Whale Song of Two Countries [Suspended]
Fandom: Axis Powers Hetalia
Genre: Romance, Comedy
Rating: PG
Characters/Pairing: America/England, hints of Canada/France, Japan, Whale, and an OC (Sir Preston Whitcomb)
Summary: America having discovered a new desire in England has decided to pursue him without a second thought. The silly antics between the two take them from a few sweet nothings in a bathtub to things out in the middle of nowhere! Other countries get involved in their love struggle but don't worry it's all in the name of a happy ending!
England awoke softly to the pitter-patter of rain as it tapped on the windows. It was a dreary Sunday morning and already the rain-shower was picking up intensity. He watched the droplets spatter against the panes, mind devoid of thought, and saw them trickle down the glass in various patterns. The soothing sounds of rain lulled him through a long silence while gazing through sleepy lids. His cat, Igiri-nya, jumped up onto the cushion where his ankles dangled off the window seat and it padded its way along the sill in lazy strides. Soon it came between England and his view of the rain outside, laying itself out on his chest mid-stretch.
The way it had joined him here and held his glaze through squinted feline pupils exuded such things as 'Good Morning' and 'Are you not up yet? You haven't fed me, you slouch'. Instead of being insulted, England only gave a drowsy laden grin and rubbed its fur, petting it and smoothing down one of its small floppy ears before it perked up again of its own accord. I'll be up soon, he thought as he pet Igiri-nya, I won't be much longer. Perhaps it understood, he thought, because the sleepy country could hear a low purr and it relaxed even more when England scratched beneath the ribbon around its neck. This pressure on his chest reminded him of an instance one month prior when he received quite a novel item in the morning post: an invitation to attend several sessions of Parliament.
These invitations were not unusual for England's presence was needed or encouraged on many occasions. However, only one person in his life could make all he thought mundane or serious, somehow, turn rosy: that dotty character America. England sighed, still petting Igiri-nya in a continuous mechanical motion. They had been involved in each other's affairs many times before, he had been his guardian in the beginning, but as of late America had started acting odd. His visit one day had without warning turned from light-hearted conversation to something---quite different.
The invitation had been sent by Sir Preston Whitcomb, a connection England had first made in politics but since revealed himself to be a man of many talents and a valuable friend. He took time to observe or participate in the activities of both Houses whenever he could, being what he called an 'active supporter of the future', and for which England couldn't admire more. The man had traveled the world and back, garnered much wisdom along the way, moreover was a sprightly old fellow to boot.
The two met in the waiting room just outside the House of Lords chamber, Sir Whitcomb excusing himself from a few other Parliament members greeting him with a pat on the shoulder. "Ah there you are, my boy," he said affectionately. England thought it amusing that the gent referred to his country like a son but knew his appearance certainly made it seem that way. For some reason he hadn't gotten around to correcting the man. His gesture felt natural, as if it made him a bit more human somehow. He smiled back at him and shook his proffered hand with a firm grip before saying a quick "Good afternoon".
The older man made a quick movement with his arm to check the time on his watch. "I don't believe it's quite time yet to enter, so why don't the two of us have a quick chat out here while we wait?" He looked back up at England ready for his response.
"Oh, yes. That's fine," England replied, "I'm glad I came early enough. I had some trouble getting back because a certain someone wouldn't stop delaying me..." The Briton frowned. Sir Whitcomb smiled and chuckled.
"That boy America is quite fond of you, isn't he? Must've been quite sorry to have seen you leave." The man started to walk towards of chairs nearby and England followed him.
"Do you really think so?" He smiled a little at the thought but couldn't let him get caught up in such a complement. "It's hard to believe sometimes the way we go at it. I can hardly think of us being very close at all."
"Ah, nothing of the sort! That's how blokes your age are supposed to act." Whitcomb settled himself into a chair and crossed his legs. "Although, seeing the two of you like that turns out to be quite the show, I know for a fact that you're as thick as thieves."
The England laughed at the man's enthusiasm as he sat in the chair next to him. The younger country had been clinging to him needlessly ever since he had mentioned his visit would be cut short by returning back home. America never had any patience for very much once things didn't go as planned. He made it a point to constantly tote England around by the hand despite his complaints and obvious discomfort. "Perhaps the phrase you're searching for is 'perpetually awkward'," he said.
"That might very well be so," Whitcomb nodded. His expression was amused as he politely agreed with the statement. After a silence while they watched people walk purposefully through the hallways and waiting room started again this time on a new subject.
"I hear that you had quite the time visiting Japan recently, what with the summer festival he held there. Did you enjoy yourself?"
"Yes, thanks. It was quite the experience, I'm telling you. " England appreciated the subject change and was excited about his new topic besides. "The whole setup really catches the eye, I had fun helping him put the lot of it together. Japan has a keen eye for design, I rather like that about him. Oh, and the festival went off without a hitch, which is no surprise."
"Mm, yes. Quite an organized fellow, bit mysterious, that one. Traveling to his home many years ago was certainly-" Whitcomb was interrupted by the sound of a group of MPs flocking to the closed door across the waiting room from them.
"Perhaps I can finish another time." He stood from his chair, England following suit, and the entered the large room side by side. Whitcomb gestured towards a pair of chairs off to the side in their own separate box a hand on his shoulder to lead him there. England sat and readied himself for a long evening with Parliament, a pad and pen ready to jot down notes. Seven hours had been allotted today and that meant some pressing issues were sure to arise during the proceedings. He looked over his surroundings as he waited.
The House of Lords was a large richly coloured hall with high ceilings and tall stained glass windows. Rectangular in shape, the main entrance to the north was framed by heavy wooden doors. An attendant nearby was counting Members of Parliament, smartly dressed men and women with badges on, as they trickled in and on behind a pair of short wooden gates. Golden star glyphs covered the royal blue carpet, from the entrance were steps at intervals all around to the centre podiums flanking a stenographer's desk. Red benches on the east and west side of the hall were the longest and reached the far end before stopping a yard or so before Her Majesty's throne and its arm chairs, all set on a platform and framed by a rope barrier. A few places off to the sides of the main entrance designated areas for guests, press, and other participants of Parliament.
England noticed there had been new additions to the room since he had visited last: several cameras peered at the display on ground level with cold lenses, microphones hung from the ceiling near all the red leather benches, and within those same benches speaker grates were embedded about every half a meter. England heard muted chatter from above and when he looked up observers from the public had gathered all around the balcony's railings.
Some were craning their heads to watch the monitors installed on the walls, others gazing down at the Members on the floor. Many were sight-seers interested in the British law system, a few middle-aged men, ready to rant at a pub about what they heard, and even a group of school children were ushered by a teacher determined to get them around the entirety of the hall quickly and in one piece.
It wasn't long before the chamber was called to order and the proceedings were finally under way.
*******Flashback*MID*******
'Letter for you, sir' the attendant whispered, 'The gentleman that requested it delivered left straight away so I did not get his name. He only intructed that it be read at your soonest convenience.'
England nodded and held out a hand to recieve the letter, obvious confusion showing. The attendant placed the letter there and then stood to leave his side. [He thought he saw the attendant flash a thumbs up in the air as he walked away, but when he turned around to look the man was already out the door.] England [shook his head] turned [back] to the letter. The envelope was made with thick paper and it had a wax seal displaying a crest he didn't recongize. Upon breaking the seal as quietly as he could, it opened into a message printed straight onto the paper:
This Eagle who watches high above
has sailed the pond with Washington,
Its message sweet like a sunny dove:
"let us cross our t's, six hours and one."
The Stars entreat the queen's bravest Knight,
"pray you arrive, in Striped rays of light!"
Her Majesty in name is close by
where books now and then quietly sigh.
It arms an Empire, not with swords, but
strengthened wit of seven hundred Lords.
The Bibliosoph knows well the road,
to Salisbury's silent abode.
Awaiting Your Arrival,
Guy Fawkes
England sat perplexed looking at the signature. Guy Fawkes had been dead for over four centuries, he thought, hardly practical to contact the living through physical means. It didn't take much to discern that there wasn't any magic involved nor a spiritual essence. The true sender had most likely assumed this name. The real question was who would use a famous Englishman of the past as an alias? The above poetry had nothing to do with the Gunpowder Plot. Arthur turned the envelope over to its back. There was nothing written but his own name. England's name wasn't exactly a secret but not many addressed him by it or knew it at all. This narrowed it down to someone close to him--
'Britannia...' Sir Whitcomb nudged England's shoulder as he leaned over to speak in a whisper, 'Britannia, sir, you are being closely watched this afternoon. I don't intend to be rude, but if your message can wait it would be duly appreciated. For it seems some would presume you feign interest looking so absorbed.'
England was quick to look up from the letter then, embarrassed he had been distracted so easily. Noticing Sir Whitcomb's concerned expression and the darting eyes of other Members of Parliament, he stowed the letter away in his shirt pocket.
'Not at all, I was simply giving it a good once over to remember for later. There will be no one left to distract the MP's from their jobs here on out.' The two of them shared a secret smile before turning their attention back to the issues presented before the House.
**********Flashback*END************
He mulled over the brief moments they exchanged before he dashed from the room. Remembering each event as time passed in his mind he skipped to where the change had started. England had commented on America's height, even allowing him a small compliment mumbled in there for good measure. His eyes had been averted at the time but when they returned once again to rest upon America's visage he could see a difference in him.
That was when it all started to become a blur. America's sudden hold on him had been desperate, those hands grasping at him as if he could better see through his fingertips, the words he spoke so enticing floating on whisper, his kisses were sweet, lips warm with stirring desire, glasses askew in his haste to--
'Ah!' England started, having remembered himself. Igiri-nya had bit his hand in firm warning as if to say 'Mind your thoughts, now, not in front of company!' It wasn't until his hand had recoiled from the bite that England realized his fist had been clenched around a portion of its fur. The white and brown-spotted cat stood then and jumped to the floor, obviously done being its owner's throw pillow. The country raised an eyebrow as he watched Igiri-nya walk under the dining room table and strut into the kitchen.
'I suppose that's my cue to stop lazing about...' He sighed again and ran a hand through his hair. 'A good breakfast will do me some good.'
He stood and after giving a good stretch set out for the kitchen, rubbing his eyes and yawning. England set up some tableware and started by popping some bread into the toaster. He fried up some eggs, a bacon rasher, and some tomatoes in a skillet while humming a song, making a mental list of things to do for the rest of the day. It turned out of be a short list, for he had done most of his chores little by little during the week, thus there was more room for other things to creep in. By the time he worked on brewing some breakfast tea, England's thoughts had once again turned back to America.
'I don't understand,' he mumbled to himself, 'What was that silly twit thinking?' He stirred in some milk and a few spoonfuls of sugar slowly watching it change colour. Even more curious a question would have to be since when had America ever of him in 'that way'? England couldn't fathom the reasoning behind such behaviour, not that that country used much of it to begin with. Yet, ever since then it's been getting worse. It's almost not enough to ignore his yammering and avoid him outside of world meetings. He set his cup and saucer down on the table before heading towards the door to retrieve the morning paper. Its plastic wrapping had gathered small puddles on its surface due to the sprinkle and stared out into the rain for a wistful moment. The weather that day had been quite the opposite of this but that hadn't stopped it from being as equally strange.
NOTES:
[!] Guy Fawkes - A member of the Gunpowder Plot on Nov. 5, 1605, he was arrested for guarding a large amount of explosive under the House of Lords at Parliament. Fawkes is sometimes referred to, jokingly, as "the only man ever to enter Parliament with honest intentions". The anniversary of this event is now an annual celebration called Guy Fawkes Night, Guy Fawkes Day, or Bonfire Night.
[!] Igiri-nya - Himaruya created a Catalia/Nekotalia character for all the regular countries in a picture called "kunineko (Catalia!)". In this England's cat is called "Igirisuneko", Igiri-nya is just a little cuter.]
About This Entry: This an image track for a scene in my developing fanfic at the time. I've given up on it at the moment but, I'm not sure what to do with it otherwise. One excerpt from that WIP fic is below the video to read: the video was meant the beginning and end. In the middle is a flashback. I wonder if I should put in the rest where Japan mistakes America's questions as innuendo, and France acts like a parent sorta? As a side note, V for Vendetta was relevant to the storyline before I decided to split up that part of it.
Always Stays the Same, Nothing Ever Changes...
I'm HikiibatoHada on Youtube. Don't be afraid to rate and/or comment and tell what you think. The irony here is that the piano piece playing in the background is Chopin. *somewhere in the world Austria's angry* If the embeded player doesn't work go here:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sUV-0KbJx-U
V Now in Words We Can Understand <- this is lol-worthy.
Title: Whale Song of Two Countries [Suspended]
Fandom: Axis Powers Hetalia
Genre: Romance, Comedy
Rating: PG
Characters/Pairing: America/England, hints of Canada/France, Japan, Whale, and an OC (Sir Preston Whitcomb)
Summary: America having discovered a new desire in England has decided to pursue him without a second thought. The silly antics between the two take them from a few sweet nothings in a bathtub to things out in the middle of nowhere! Other countries get involved in their love struggle but don't worry it's all in the name of a happy ending!
England awoke softly to the pitter-patter of rain as it tapped on the windows. It was a dreary Sunday morning and already the rain-shower was picking up intensity. He watched the droplets spatter against the panes, mind devoid of thought, and saw them trickle down the glass in various patterns. The soothing sounds of rain lulled him through a long silence while gazing through sleepy lids. His cat, Igiri-nya, jumped up onto the cushion where his ankles dangled off the window seat and it padded its way along the sill in lazy strides. Soon it came between England and his view of the rain outside, laying itself out on his chest mid-stretch.
The way it had joined him here and held his glaze through squinted feline pupils exuded such things as 'Good Morning' and 'Are you not up yet? You haven't fed me, you slouch'. Instead of being insulted, England only gave a drowsy laden grin and rubbed its fur, petting it and smoothing down one of its small floppy ears before it perked up again of its own accord. I'll be up soon, he thought as he pet Igiri-nya, I won't be much longer. Perhaps it understood, he thought, because the sleepy country could hear a low purr and it relaxed even more when England scratched beneath the ribbon around its neck. This pressure on his chest reminded him of an instance one month prior when he received quite a novel item in the morning post: an invitation to attend several sessions of Parliament.
These invitations were not unusual for England's presence was needed or encouraged on many occasions. However, only one person in his life could make all he thought mundane or serious, somehow, turn rosy: that dotty character America. England sighed, still petting Igiri-nya in a continuous mechanical motion. They had been involved in each other's affairs many times before, he had been his guardian in the beginning, but as of late America had started acting odd. His visit one day had without warning turned from light-hearted conversation to something---quite different.
The invitation had been sent by Sir Preston Whitcomb, a connection England had first made in politics but since revealed himself to be a man of many talents and a valuable friend. He took time to observe or participate in the activities of both Houses whenever he could, being what he called an 'active supporter of the future', and for which England couldn't admire more. The man had traveled the world and back, garnered much wisdom along the way, moreover was a sprightly old fellow to boot.
The two met in the waiting room just outside the House of Lords chamber, Sir Whitcomb excusing himself from a few other Parliament members greeting him with a pat on the shoulder. "Ah there you are, my boy," he said affectionately. England thought it amusing that the gent referred to his country like a son but knew his appearance certainly made it seem that way. For some reason he hadn't gotten around to correcting the man. His gesture felt natural, as if it made him a bit more human somehow. He smiled back at him and shook his proffered hand with a firm grip before saying a quick "Good afternoon".
The older man made a quick movement with his arm to check the time on his watch. "I don't believe it's quite time yet to enter, so why don't the two of us have a quick chat out here while we wait?" He looked back up at England ready for his response.
"Oh, yes. That's fine," England replied, "I'm glad I came early enough. I had some trouble getting back because a certain someone wouldn't stop delaying me..." The Briton frowned. Sir Whitcomb smiled and chuckled.
"That boy America is quite fond of you, isn't he? Must've been quite sorry to have seen you leave." The man started to walk towards of chairs nearby and England followed him.
"Do you really think so?" He smiled a little at the thought but couldn't let him get caught up in such a complement. "It's hard to believe sometimes the way we go at it. I can hardly think of us being very close at all."
"Ah, nothing of the sort! That's how blokes your age are supposed to act." Whitcomb settled himself into a chair and crossed his legs. "Although, seeing the two of you like that turns out to be quite the show, I know for a fact that you're as thick as thieves."
The England laughed at the man's enthusiasm as he sat in the chair next to him. The younger country had been clinging to him needlessly ever since he had mentioned his visit would be cut short by returning back home. America never had any patience for very much once things didn't go as planned. He made it a point to constantly tote England around by the hand despite his complaints and obvious discomfort. "Perhaps the phrase you're searching for is 'perpetually awkward'," he said.
"That might very well be so," Whitcomb nodded. His expression was amused as he politely agreed with the statement. After a silence while they watched people walk purposefully through the hallways and waiting room started again this time on a new subject.
"I hear that you had quite the time visiting Japan recently, what with the summer festival he held there. Did you enjoy yourself?"
"Yes, thanks. It was quite the experience, I'm telling you. " England appreciated the subject change and was excited about his new topic besides. "The whole setup really catches the eye, I had fun helping him put the lot of it together. Japan has a keen eye for design, I rather like that about him. Oh, and the festival went off without a hitch, which is no surprise."
"Mm, yes. Quite an organized fellow, bit mysterious, that one. Traveling to his home many years ago was certainly-" Whitcomb was interrupted by the sound of a group of MPs flocking to the closed door across the waiting room from them.
"Perhaps I can finish another time." He stood from his chair, England following suit, and the entered the large room side by side. Whitcomb gestured towards a pair of chairs off to the side in their own separate box a hand on his shoulder to lead him there. England sat and readied himself for a long evening with Parliament, a pad and pen ready to jot down notes. Seven hours had been allotted today and that meant some pressing issues were sure to arise during the proceedings. He looked over his surroundings as he waited.
The House of Lords was a large richly coloured hall with high ceilings and tall stained glass windows. Rectangular in shape, the main entrance to the north was framed by heavy wooden doors. An attendant nearby was counting Members of Parliament, smartly dressed men and women with badges on, as they trickled in and on behind a pair of short wooden gates. Golden star glyphs covered the royal blue carpet, from the entrance were steps at intervals all around to the centre podiums flanking a stenographer's desk. Red benches on the east and west side of the hall were the longest and reached the far end before stopping a yard or so before Her Majesty's throne and its arm chairs, all set on a platform and framed by a rope barrier. A few places off to the sides of the main entrance designated areas for guests, press, and other participants of Parliament.
England noticed there had been new additions to the room since he had visited last: several cameras peered at the display on ground level with cold lenses, microphones hung from the ceiling near all the red leather benches, and within those same benches speaker grates were embedded about every half a meter. England heard muted chatter from above and when he looked up observers from the public had gathered all around the balcony's railings.
Some were craning their heads to watch the monitors installed on the walls, others gazing down at the Members on the floor. Many were sight-seers interested in the British law system, a few middle-aged men, ready to rant at a pub about what they heard, and even a group of school children were ushered by a teacher determined to get them around the entirety of the hall quickly and in one piece.
It wasn't long before the chamber was called to order and the proceedings were finally under way.
*******Flashback*MID*******
'Letter for you, sir' the attendant whispered, 'The gentleman that requested it delivered left straight away so I did not get his name. He only intructed that it be read at your soonest convenience.'
England nodded and held out a hand to recieve the letter, obvious confusion showing. The attendant placed the letter there and then stood to leave his side. [He thought he saw the attendant flash a thumbs up in the air as he walked away, but when he turned around to look the man was already out the door.] England [shook his head] turned [back] to the letter. The envelope was made with thick paper and it had a wax seal displaying a crest he didn't recongize. Upon breaking the seal as quietly as he could, it opened into a message printed straight onto the paper:
This Eagle who watches high above
has sailed the pond with Washington,
Its message sweet like a sunny dove:
"let us cross our t's, six hours and one."
The Stars entreat the queen's bravest Knight,
"pray you arrive, in Striped rays of light!"
Her Majesty in name is close by
where books now and then quietly sigh.
It arms an Empire, not with swords, but
strengthened wit of seven hundred Lords.
The Bibliosoph knows well the road,
to Salisbury's silent abode.
Awaiting Your Arrival,
Guy Fawkes
England sat perplexed looking at the signature. Guy Fawkes had been dead for over four centuries, he thought, hardly practical to contact the living through physical means. It didn't take much to discern that there wasn't any magic involved nor a spiritual essence. The true sender had most likely assumed this name. The real question was who would use a famous Englishman of the past as an alias? The above poetry had nothing to do with the Gunpowder Plot. Arthur turned the envelope over to its back. There was nothing written but his own name. England's name wasn't exactly a secret but not many addressed him by it or knew it at all. This narrowed it down to someone close to him--
'Britannia...' Sir Whitcomb nudged England's shoulder as he leaned over to speak in a whisper, 'Britannia, sir, you are being closely watched this afternoon. I don't intend to be rude, but if your message can wait it would be duly appreciated. For it seems some would presume you feign interest looking so absorbed.'
England was quick to look up from the letter then, embarrassed he had been distracted so easily. Noticing Sir Whitcomb's concerned expression and the darting eyes of other Members of Parliament, he stowed the letter away in his shirt pocket.
'Not at all, I was simply giving it a good once over to remember for later. There will be no one left to distract the MP's from their jobs here on out.' The two of them shared a secret smile before turning their attention back to the issues presented before the House.
**********Flashback*END************
He mulled over the brief moments they exchanged before he dashed from the room. Remembering each event as time passed in his mind he skipped to where the change had started. England had commented on America's height, even allowing him a small compliment mumbled in there for good measure. His eyes had been averted at the time but when they returned once again to rest upon America's visage he could see a difference in him.
That was when it all started to become a blur. America's sudden hold on him had been desperate, those hands grasping at him as if he could better see through his fingertips, the words he spoke so enticing floating on whisper, his kisses were sweet, lips warm with stirring desire, glasses askew in his haste to--
'Ah!' England started, having remembered himself. Igiri-nya had bit his hand in firm warning as if to say 'Mind your thoughts, now, not in front of company!' It wasn't until his hand had recoiled from the bite that England realized his fist had been clenched around a portion of its fur. The white and brown-spotted cat stood then and jumped to the floor, obviously done being its owner's throw pillow. The country raised an eyebrow as he watched Igiri-nya walk under the dining room table and strut into the kitchen.
'I suppose that's my cue to stop lazing about...' He sighed again and ran a hand through his hair. 'A good breakfast will do me some good.'
He stood and after giving a good stretch set out for the kitchen, rubbing his eyes and yawning. England set up some tableware and started by popping some bread into the toaster. He fried up some eggs, a bacon rasher, and some tomatoes in a skillet while humming a song, making a mental list of things to do for the rest of the day. It turned out of be a short list, for he had done most of his chores little by little during the week, thus there was more room for other things to creep in. By the time he worked on brewing some breakfast tea, England's thoughts had once again turned back to America.
'I don't understand,' he mumbled to himself, 'What was that silly twit thinking?' He stirred in some milk and a few spoonfuls of sugar slowly watching it change colour. Even more curious a question would have to be since when had America ever of him in 'that way'? England couldn't fathom the reasoning behind such behaviour, not that that country used much of it to begin with. Yet, ever since then it's been getting worse. It's almost not enough to ignore his yammering and avoid him outside of world meetings. He set his cup and saucer down on the table before heading towards the door to retrieve the morning paper. Its plastic wrapping had gathered small puddles on its surface due to the sprinkle and stared out into the rain for a wistful moment. The weather that day had been quite the opposite of this but that hadn't stopped it from being as equally strange.
NOTES:
[!] Guy Fawkes - A member of the Gunpowder Plot on Nov. 5, 1605, he was arrested for guarding a large amount of explosive under the House of Lords at Parliament. Fawkes is sometimes referred to, jokingly, as "the only man ever to enter Parliament with honest intentions". The anniversary of this event is now an annual celebration called Guy Fawkes Night, Guy Fawkes Day, or Bonfire Night.
[!] Igiri-nya - Himaruya created a Catalia/Nekotalia character for all the regular countries in a picture called "kunineko (Catalia!)". In this England's cat is called "Igirisuneko", Igiri-nya is just a little cuter.]