(I guess this should have a title right) Zugunruhe (2/3)
anonymous
January 13 2010, 06:41:48 UTC
Prussia went up on the balls of his feet and slid his hips over the edge of the table. He wriggled back until he could wedge a heel on the surface and slid himself back further until he was sprawled across their papers and binders and plastic CD cases, all leather boots and sharp elbows and hair so pale it glared under the fluorescents. (France helped move the important papers out of his way, much to England's disgust.)
Prussia reclined on one elbow and snapped his fingers in front of Canada's face. "You. Little France." Canada jumped and raised his eyes from Prussia's groin, where all the wriggling had inched the zipper down. "Lubricant. We're not doing this GDR style. And it better not be coconut, that shit gives me hives."
"You know who I am?" Canada clasped his hands. America rolled his eyes.
Prussia leaned towards Canada a little and winked. "Always had an eye for personnel, kid. Now where's my-" A little plastic tube smacked into his palm. "-Maple. Huh." He shrugged and set it down by his hip.
"Why do you have that," America said. Canada mumbled something French and didn't look away from Prussia.
Since 1917, Russia's default expression had been a slightly psychopathic manchild grin, and the nations had learned to look for his emotions in the tiniest of clues. (Except for the ones who didn't care, like America, and the ones who got distracted by butterflies, like North Italy.) Just now he was clutching his scarf like a rope of pearls and blinking repeatedly.
Germany leaned back in his chair. "Did I ever tell you how Prussia and I met?" he remarked to France.
"Later, Allemagne," France said.
England tossed a pen at Russia. Russia whipped around. "Got yourself into this," England said. "I mean, really, what did you expect?" But there was a gleam of metal between his fingers, and Russia took the flask from him with a nod.
"I am getting bored with you," Prussia said. "Come on, didn't we have some good times?" He spread his legs wider and the zipper opened completely. There was a rustling around the table, as though several people at once had shifted in their chairs to try to gaze down the happy trail into the Schwarzenwald. "Yeah, that's right, Little France, grown up nations go commando."
"Little England, surely," England said, and more than one nation shushed him.
"Good times?" Russia said. "Good times? Poland was less of a pain in my- you brought down the Soviet Union! You tried to bite my ear off, you barricaded yourself in the attic for weeks at a time, you dyed things pink, and you had these birds everywhere-"
Prussia lifted up one foot and slammed his heel down hard, making everything on the table jump. (North Italy excepted.) "Bitch, bitch, bitch, Mother Russia. Has America been fucking you so long you've forgotten how to top?"
There was a hiss of indrawn breath around the table, as though the entire G8 had just touched a lit stove.
Canada buried his face in his hands, doing that huff-snort laughter that even nations do when they know they shouldn't be laughing. His curl shook inches from Prussia's groin. "Oh my God, Alfred, your face-"
Yeah I'm a liar, sup. And no, Prussia did not bring down the USSR, but when the Berlin Wall came down it was the beginning of the end, and Russia's blame-happy. Zugunruhe is anxious behaviour by migratory animals who are prevented from migrating. IDEK it made sense at the time what do you want from me
Re: (I guess this should have a title right) Zugunruhe (2/3)
anonymous
January 16 2010, 02:55:25 UTC
MOARRRRRRRRRRRRRR This is fucking awesome. It started awesome to begin with, with America and Russia's conversation and deal (since when so friendly, guys?XD) and went sidehill from then on. Russia bitching about Prussia was TEH SHIT, and Prussia goading him with being fucked by America was hot , which I didn't expect to find on this fill.
Canada buried his face in his hands, doing that huff-snort laughter that even nations do when they know they shouldn't be laughing. His curl shook inches from Prussia's groin. "Oh my God, Alfred, your face-" This entire paragraph is so brilliantly ridiculous I couldn't find myself to cut it anywhereXD
"Angleterre, if you stop this, there will be no sex until William is king."
Zugunruhe (3a/3)
anonymous
January 26 2010, 06:37:18 UTC
“The Cold War was a conflict of ideologies!” America shouted. “Ideologies! Why are Europeans so sick?”
“Most of us manage to discuss ideologies with our trousers on,” France said.
“This from the man who refers to his todger as the Norman Invasion,” commented England, somewhat muffled by the hand that still veiled his face.
“Only because they both left such a profound impact on your culture, you inbred little savage.”
“I recall my fist left a profound impact on your where the fucking hell did he get that pipe?” England jerked upright like a marionette with a string caught on the puppeteer's elbow.
The faucet hit the table next to Prussia's ear, and he scrambled sideways, yanking at his waistband. Papers slid into other papers while Germany tried to grab all of them at once. Russia lifted the pipe for another swing.
Prussia grabbed Canada's shoulder and used it to shove himself up, knife opening, snick, in his hand. He danced back when Russia swung again, the pipe coming so close it clicked as it hit a button, and Prussia launched himself forward. One boot slammed into the table, and then he was flying through the air. “Deus lo volt!”
They went down.
Prussia caught the pipe in his ribs a hand's breadth above where Russia gripped it, too close to get the full force of the blow. He wrapped his free hand around Russia's pipe arm and slammed his elbow towards Russia's face. Russia jerked his head, the blow glancing off his cheek, but by then Prussia was stabbing up towards his arm, trying to cut the tendons and force him to let go of the pipe.
England sighed and put his feet up. “America, any time you want to jump in.”
America crossed his arms. “I don't liberate on command.”
“Germany?” Canada said. “Germany?”
“Yes, Alfred?” Germany was resorting all the papers he'd grabbed.
“I'm not-” Canada sighed. “Aren't you going to break them up?”
Germany tapped a stack on the table to line up the edges. He peered over his little gilt glasses at Prussia, who had a split lip and was spluttering blood all over Russia's face. “Goodness, no, I haven't seen him so happy since the Preußenschlag.”
“He could get hurt!”
“Well, he should stop trying to annex my brother,” Germany said, placid as a little stream passing through a sun-filled glade on a spring morning.
“You motherfucker, that was my nose-”
“That wasn't what I meant,” Canada said weakly. The pipe spun away across the carpet, and Russia rolled him. He grabbed Prussia's knife hand and started slamming it into the floor.
“Za bazar otvetish'-”
“You know, I do believe his trousers are coming down,” France said, and stepped on Prussia's cuff, just to make sure.
Re: Zugunruhe (3a/3)
anonymous
January 26 2010, 08:28:49 UTC
I... I... I think I love you, anon. Marry me? Please? I'll take good care of you for ever and ever. And also, I think I just busted my gut. Oww, fuck. But this was so GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOODDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD!!!!!! F5 F5 F5 F5 F5 F5
Zugunruhe (3b/3) THE END
anonymous
January 26 2010, 06:39:44 UTC
"You do it,” the Prime Minister of Canada said.
“No, no, I insist.” The President of the Russian Federation made hand-flapping gestures, no really, I couldn't possibly.
Neither moved. They looked at the door. From inside there was the sound of glass breaking, then a voice screaming for order.
“Putin would have opened the door,” Harper said.
“I am so sick of hearing about what Putin would do,” Medvedev said. He scrunched up his face and made quotations with his fingers. “Putin has song about him, Putin shoots tiger, Putin has black belt, Putin takes off shirt and poses on beach. Any other country be glad to have me as leader.” He thumped his chest. “When is last time I assassinate journalist?”
Harper shrugged. “I'm just saying, Putin would have opened the door.”
Medvedev slumped. “...Do you think we could call him?”
Japan coughed behind them. “Ah?”
Harper smiled. Medvedev smiled. They turned. Japan was holding a short stack of steaming drink carriers and watching them both.
“Japan!” Harper said. “We had just come to tell you all that the meeting is over, it's time to go.”
“How unfortunate.” Japan's expressions were exquisite miniatures. Displayed in the dark. This one might have been relief, or regret, or rage, or screaming orgasmic joy. “I had just returned with our beverages.”
Medvedev took the carriers from him. “Let me help you with that.”
“And a note for Alfred-san,” Japan added, plucking a scrap of yellow paper off one carrier. He handed it to Harper. Harper scanned it.
“That's strange, I didn't know Puerto Rican statehood was being debated again,” he said.
“Probably code,” said Medvedev. “For nukes.”
Japan slid through the gap, murmuring, “Excuse me.” He opened the door.
He halted in the doorway, blinking around at everyone, one at a time, methodical as a census taker. France inspecting the label of Prussia's trousers, blink. England rifling through a red, orange, and black wallet, blink. Germany on his knees with a hand broom, blink. North Italy sleeping, blink. America fondling a faucet with a sick gleam in his eyes, blink. Some guy with ink on his face hovering over- blink- Russia attempting to shove a ball point pen into Prussia's eye.
“Ah. Prussia-san. Are we playing a party game?”
“Dude, I am so not going to any parties at your house,” America said. “Oh hey, guys, is the meeting over?” He dropped the pipe with a clank and stood. England stuffed the now empty wallet back into the pocket of Prussia's trousers. Germany straightened up.
America hopped over the thrashing bodies on the floor and landed surprisingly lightly. “Russia- and I mean this in a totally unpolitical, you're still a commie fuck, kind of way- you're the best, man.”
“Spasiba,” Russia said, and punched Prussia in the ribs. “Medvedev, one moment, I am having discussion.”
Harper nudged Medvedev with his elbow. “Bet you wish Putin was here right now.”
“That guy was boss,” Prussia agreed from the floor. He jabbed his thumb in Russia's eye, who howled and punched him again. “Oof.”
And there you have it! Some notes:
+Deus lo volt is Medieval Vulgar Latin for "God wills it". It was a battle cry of the crusaders, and the Teutonic Knights got their start in the crusader kingdom of Acre. +Za bazar otvetish'- basically, you'll pay for what you said. (I think. I don't speak Russian.) +The Preußenschlag is complicated. Short version: a decree that dismissed the cabinet of the Free State of Prussia, bringing Prussia- at the time a German state- under the control of a fun bunch of dudes who would later become the Nazis.
Re: Zugunruhe (3b/3) THE END
anonymous
April 25 2010, 05:10:10 UTC
I heart you so, so much right now anon. It's surprisingly difficult to find Prussia & Russia interacting with violence without a massive side of angst or one or both of them being out of character. So this story had my heart from the very beginning.
But then you added that last bit with all the stuff about Putin, and I laughed so hard I gave myself a stomach cramp. This is going to be one of those fills I read over and over again. Well done!
Prussia reclined on one elbow and snapped his fingers in front of Canada's face. "You. Little France." Canada jumped and raised his eyes from Prussia's groin, where all the wriggling had inched the zipper down. "Lubricant. We're not doing this GDR style. And it better not be coconut, that shit gives me hives."
"You know who I am?" Canada clasped his hands. America rolled his eyes.
Prussia leaned towards Canada a little and winked. "Always had an eye for personnel, kid. Now where's my-" A little plastic tube smacked into his palm. "-Maple. Huh." He shrugged and set it down by his hip.
"Why do you have that," America said. Canada mumbled something French and didn't look away from Prussia.
Since 1917, Russia's default expression had been a slightly psychopathic manchild grin, and the nations had learned to look for his emotions in the tiniest of clues. (Except for the ones who didn't care, like America, and the ones who got distracted by butterflies, like North Italy.) Just now he was clutching his scarf like a rope of pearls and blinking repeatedly.
Germany leaned back in his chair. "Did I ever tell you how Prussia and I met?" he remarked to France.
"Later, Allemagne," France said.
England tossed a pen at Russia. Russia whipped around. "Got yourself into this," England said. "I mean, really, what did you expect?" But there was a gleam of metal between his fingers, and Russia took the flask from him with a nod.
"I am getting bored with you," Prussia said. "Come on, didn't we have some good times?" He spread his legs wider and the zipper opened completely. There was a rustling around the table, as though several people at once had shifted in their chairs to try to gaze down the happy trail into the Schwarzenwald. "Yeah, that's right, Little France, grown up nations go commando."
"Little England, surely," England said, and more than one nation shushed him.
"Good times?" Russia said. "Good times? Poland was less of a pain in my- you brought down the Soviet Union! You tried to bite my ear off, you barricaded yourself in the attic for weeks at a time, you dyed things pink, and you had these birds everywhere-"
Prussia lifted up one foot and slammed his heel down hard, making everything on the table jump. (North Italy excepted.) "Bitch, bitch, bitch, Mother Russia. Has America been fucking you so long you've forgotten how to top?"
There was a hiss of indrawn breath around the table, as though the entire G8 had just touched a lit stove.
Canada buried his face in his hands, doing that huff-snort laughter that even nations do when they know they shouldn't be laughing. His curl shook inches from Prussia's groin. "Oh my God, Alfred, your face-"
Yeah I'm a liar, sup. And no, Prussia did not bring down the USSR, but when the Berlin Wall came down it was the beginning of the end, and Russia's blame-happy. Zugunruhe is anxious behaviour by migratory animals who are prevented from migrating. IDEK it made sense at the time what do you want from me
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MORE I SAY! MOREEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Mein Gott.... this story is so hot <3
I never want it to end ;;A;;
F5F5F5F5F5F5F5F5F5F5F5F5F5F5F5F5F5F5F5F5F5
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This is beyond awesome, author!anon, waaaay beyond
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This is fucking awesome. It started awesome to begin with, with America and Russia's conversation and deal (since when so friendly, guys?XD) and went sidehill from then on. Russia bitching about Prussia was TEH SHIT, and Prussia goading him with being fucked by America was hot , which I didn't expect to find on this fill.
Canada buried his face in his hands, doing that huff-snort laughter that even nations do when they know they shouldn't be laughing. His curl shook inches from Prussia's groin. "Oh my God, Alfred, your face-"
This entire paragraph is so brilliantly ridiculous I couldn't find myself to cut it anywhereXD
"Angleterre, if you stop this, there will be no sex until William is king."
BEST LINE IN THE HISTORY OF LINES. EVER
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Still F5ing with dedication. So good~
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“Most of us manage to discuss ideologies with our trousers on,” France said.
“This from the man who refers to his todger as the Norman Invasion,” commented England, somewhat muffled by the hand that still veiled his face.
“Only because they both left such a profound impact on your culture, you inbred little savage.”
“I recall my fist left a profound impact on your where the fucking hell did he get that pipe?” England jerked upright like a marionette with a string caught on the puppeteer's elbow.
The faucet hit the table next to Prussia's ear, and he scrambled sideways, yanking at his waistband. Papers slid into other papers while Germany tried to grab all of them at once. Russia lifted the pipe for another swing.
Prussia grabbed Canada's shoulder and used it to shove himself up, knife opening, snick, in his hand. He danced back when Russia swung again, the pipe coming so close it clicked as it hit a button, and Prussia launched himself forward. One boot slammed into the table, and then he was flying through the air. “Deus lo volt!”
They went down.
Prussia caught the pipe in his ribs a hand's breadth above where Russia gripped it, too close to get the full force of the blow. He wrapped his free hand around Russia's pipe arm and slammed his elbow towards Russia's face. Russia jerked his head, the blow glancing off his cheek, but by then Prussia was stabbing up towards his arm, trying to cut the tendons and force him to let go of the pipe.
England sighed and put his feet up. “America, any time you want to jump in.”
America crossed his arms. “I don't liberate on command.”
“Germany?” Canada said. “Germany?”
“Yes, Alfred?” Germany was resorting all the papers he'd grabbed.
“I'm not-” Canada sighed. “Aren't you going to break them up?”
Germany tapped a stack on the table to line up the edges. He peered over his little gilt glasses at Prussia, who had a split lip and was spluttering blood all over Russia's face. “Goodness, no, I haven't seen him so happy since the Preußenschlag.”
“He could get hurt!”
“Well, he should stop trying to annex my brother,” Germany said, placid as a little stream passing through a sun-filled glade on a spring morning.
“You motherfucker, that was my nose-”
“That wasn't what I meant,” Canada said weakly. The pipe spun away across the carpet, and Russia rolled him. He grabbed Prussia's knife hand and started slamming it into the floor.
“Za bazar otvetish'-”
“You know, I do believe his trousers are coming down,” France said, and stepped on Prussia's cuff, just to make sure.
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“No, no, I insist.” The President of the Russian Federation made hand-flapping gestures, no really, I couldn't possibly.
Neither moved. They looked at the door. From inside there was the sound of glass breaking, then a voice screaming for order.
“Putin would have opened the door,” Harper said.
“I am so sick of hearing about what Putin would do,” Medvedev said. He scrunched up his face and made quotations with his fingers. “Putin has song about him, Putin shoots tiger, Putin has black belt, Putin takes off shirt and poses on beach. Any other country be glad to have me as leader.” He thumped his chest. “When is last time I assassinate journalist?”
Harper shrugged. “I'm just saying, Putin would have opened the door.”
Medvedev slumped. “...Do you think we could call him?”
Japan coughed behind them. “Ah?”
Harper smiled. Medvedev smiled. They turned. Japan was holding a short stack of steaming drink carriers and watching them both.
“Japan!” Harper said. “We had just come to tell you all that the meeting is over, it's time to go.”
“How unfortunate.” Japan's expressions were exquisite miniatures. Displayed in the dark. This one might have been relief, or regret, or rage, or screaming orgasmic joy. “I had just returned with our beverages.”
Medvedev took the carriers from him. “Let me help you with that.”
“And a note for Alfred-san,” Japan added, plucking a scrap of yellow paper off one carrier. He handed it to Harper. Harper scanned it.
“That's strange, I didn't know Puerto Rican statehood was being debated again,” he said.
“Probably code,” said Medvedev. “For nukes.”
Japan slid through the gap, murmuring, “Excuse me.” He opened the door.
He halted in the doorway, blinking around at everyone, one at a time, methodical as a census taker. France inspecting the label of Prussia's trousers, blink. England rifling through a red, orange, and black wallet, blink. Germany on his knees with a hand broom, blink. North Italy sleeping, blink. America fondling a faucet with a sick gleam in his eyes, blink. Some guy with ink on his face hovering over- blink- Russia attempting to shove a ball point pen into Prussia's eye.
“Ah. Prussia-san. Are we playing a party game?”
“Dude, I am so not going to any parties at your house,” America said. “Oh hey, guys, is the meeting over?” He dropped the pipe with a clank and stood. England stuffed the now empty wallet back into the pocket of Prussia's trousers. Germany straightened up.
America hopped over the thrashing bodies on the floor and landed surprisingly lightly. “Russia- and I mean this in a totally unpolitical, you're still a commie fuck, kind of way- you're the best, man.”
“Spasiba,” Russia said, and punched Prussia in the ribs. “Medvedev, one moment, I am having discussion.”
Harper nudged Medvedev with his elbow. “Bet you wish Putin was here right now.”
“That guy was boss,” Prussia agreed from the floor. He jabbed his thumb in Russia's eye, who howled and punched him again. “Oof.”
And there you have it! Some notes:
+Deus lo volt is Medieval Vulgar Latin for "God wills it". It was a battle cry of the crusaders, and the Teutonic Knights got their start in the crusader kingdom of Acre.
+Za bazar otvetish'- basically, you'll pay for what you said. (I think. I don't speak Russian.)
+The Preußenschlag is complicated. Short version: a decree that dismissed the cabinet of the Free State of Prussia, bringing Prussia- at the time a German state- under the control of a fun bunch of dudes who would later become the Nazis.
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Oh God England. And America. And Russia. And Prussia. OH GOD MEDVEDEV AND HARPER
recaptcha: presque clearly. Exactly. Exactly...
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And I can SO see Prussia giving Russia grief while in the USSR...Pink hair XD
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But then you added that last bit with all the stuff about Putin, and I laughed so hard I gave myself a stomach cramp. This is going to be one of those fills I read over and over again. Well done!
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