Suddenly, an explosion of Falklands.
I... can't really explain this. >> I was looking at Falkland Islands' wiki page and... yeah.
Oh Falklands, with all those people fighting over you, it's no wonder you became a little egocentric. Wales spreads the sheep-love gene once more. He's got something boarding on an inferiority complex, certainly in comparisons to other colonies, since he never really grew anything or had anything interesting. The oil's made him more confident in himself, but he's overcompensating now.
And the hair curl is sentient. Sentieeeeeeeent. And represents the Jason Islands.
Now for a drabble;
“England, come on.” America tried again, but only got a vicious glare for his trouble. “You said you’d quit!”
“And I did!” England yelled, livid and desperately clinging to the all he had left. Falklands looked between the two of them, but kept his arms wrapped around England’s waist. “I’ve not conquered anyone in over 50 years!”
America sighed. “Yeah, but you’re meant to give up the ones you did conquer-”
“You will have to pry this one out of my cold. Dead. Hands.” the former-empire snarled, teeth bared and eyes flashing like a lion protecting it’s last cub. “Argentina couldn’t do it. Spain couldn’t do it. And by god, America, if you try anything I’ll-”
“Woah, okay, okay!” Alfred held up his hands defensively. “I’m only trying to help you quit Iggy. You can’t support them with your economy like it is.”
“I don’t see why you use plurals; I gave back Hong Kong.” Came the bitter mutter. Alfred pouted, resisting the urge to groan. Why did Arthur always have to blame him for everything? His former-coloniser’s voice turned desperate. “Just let me keep the one, please. I can’t just- just…” Falkland’s wriggled slightly in England’s over-tight grip. “He’s still only a child, Alfred, look at him.”
Falklands, by some country’s standards, would probably be considered an adult, looking just past 14. He wasn’t innocent like a child, no Nation was, but he still stared at America like he was the monster in the closet.
Alfred tried one more time. “This is the last one, England, if you let him go you’ll be finally clean.”
England simply spat something in an ancient language Alfred didn’t understand, and all of a sudden the taller Nation found himself suspended upside-down in the air. “Woah! Gah! Ahh, put me down!”
The magician glared green hate at him, and the invisible force carried him backwards, out of the house and into the rainy afternoon outside, finally depositing him in a puddle next to his car.
“Oww…”
Canada stood next to the car with his umbrella. “Better luck next year, Al. He’ll let go eventually.”
And now some other stuff.
Doodles on my notes. Syria and Jordan, for no reason, and I apparently ship it. >>;;; what the hell me.
For lovelylurker, since she guessed the whole "Poland barges in with pink tanks" thing. Note to self, stop being predictable.
The little chibi in the corner is holding a kolkolkol bomb, something that sprung from a conversation with katamanda haha.
And that's all for tonight. *goes to bed*
Oh Falklands, with all those people fighting over you, it's no wonder you became a little egocentric. Wales spreads the sheep-love gene once more. He's got something boarding on an inferiority complex, certainly in comparisons to other colonies, since he never really grew anything or had anything interesting. The oil's made him more confident in himself, but he's overcompensating now.
And the hair curl is sentient. Sentieeeeeeeent. And represents the Jason Islands.
Now for a drabble;
“England, come on.” America tried again, but only got a vicious glare for his trouble. “You said you’d quit!”
“And I did!” England yelled, livid and desperately clinging to the all he had left. Falklands looked between the two of them, but kept his arms wrapped around England’s waist. “I’ve not conquered anyone in over 50 years!”
America sighed. “Yeah, but you’re meant to give up the ones you did conquer-”
“You will have to pry this one out of my cold. Dead. Hands.” the former-empire snarled, teeth bared and eyes flashing like a lion protecting it’s last cub. “Argentina couldn’t do it. Spain couldn’t do it. And by god, America, if you try anything I’ll-”
“Woah, okay, okay!” Alfred held up his hands defensively. “I’m only trying to help you quit Iggy. You can’t support them with your economy like it is.”
“I don’t see why you use plurals; I gave back Hong Kong.” Came the bitter mutter. Alfred pouted, resisting the urge to groan. Why did Arthur always have to blame him for everything? His former-coloniser’s voice turned desperate. “Just let me keep the one, please. I can’t just- just…” Falkland’s wriggled slightly in England’s over-tight grip. “He’s still only a child, Alfred, look at him.”
Falklands, by some country’s standards, would probably be considered an adult, looking just past 14. He wasn’t innocent like a child, no Nation was, but he still stared at America like he was the monster in the closet.
Alfred tried one more time. “This is the last one, England, if you let him go you’ll be finally clean.”
England simply spat something in an ancient language Alfred didn’t understand, and all of a sudden the taller Nation found himself suspended upside-down in the air. “Woah! Gah! Ahh, put me down!”
The magician glared green hate at him, and the invisible force carried him backwards, out of the house and into the rainy afternoon outside, finally depositing him in a puddle next to his car.
“Oww…”
Canada stood next to the car with his umbrella. “Better luck next year, Al. He’ll let go eventually.”
And now some other stuff.
Doodles on my notes. Syria and Jordan, for no reason, and I apparently ship it. >>;;; what the hell me.
For lovelylurker, since she guessed the whole "Poland barges in with pink tanks" thing. Note to self, stop being predictable.
The little chibi in the corner is holding a kolkolkol bomb, something that sprung from a conversation with katamanda haha.
And that's all for tonight. *goes to bed*