The Remarkable Franco-German Friendship (3b/?)
anonymous
April 25 2010, 14:04:04 UTC
This is why, you see, feminine make-up would undermine my masculinity. If it didn't as much as it always does, though, it would put such a perfect emphasize on my doll-like appearance with my fair taint and soft skin and full lips and angelic curls framing my angelic face. Don't you think so, too? (Qui ne dit mot consent, just so you know. Silence actually does give consent.)
... Now, where wa―ah! Right! Prussia, of all nations, dressed in lederhosen and wearing make-up. Horrible, oui, and I mean the French pronunciation here. I was so scared.
Pourquoi?
I can’t believe you ask.
Alors, please do imagine Prussia and now do imagine him sloshed out of his mind. You have done that? Perfect. Now try to recall the look of lederhosen, that horrendous Bavarian clown costume in leather. If you succeed in doing that transfer that image onto Prussia―remember, still sloshed out of his mind. Last but not least you try to imagine all that and Prussia, coming straight out of a gay bar.
If you still can sleep at night, pretend to be Canadian if you are not (then pet Canada's lovely hair on my behalf and do remind him to wash it with the new shampoo I have sent him last week, it makes his hair as smooth as mine) and imagine you go to bed. Prussia is creeping outside in your garden. And now he comes through your unlocked door at night, heading for your kitchen. Mistaking your maple syrup for beer.
If you are not Canadian and cannot pretend to be Canadian and do still sleep at night, rather well, I might add, then go to your local German pub and ask for a Bavarian sausage salad except you don't want it Bavarian style but rather East German style with an extra lot of mayonnaise and French fries. I assure you, you won't have any troubles keeping your eyes open for the next three weeks to come.
Horrible?
Oui. Absolutely.
Although I have to admit it is a bit unfair to compare Prussia with his food―even his food has its dignity, I have been told―and even more so to instill nightmares in the lovely minds of my lovely Canada's people.
En plus, my fear didn't last as long as the trauma of East German food or angry, sloshed out Prussian syrup thieves creeping through your backdoor would have had its effects on its respective victims.
My fear lasted for ten seconds,actually, in which I feared Prussia would smear his… ah… 'colourful' face against my new suit exclusively designed by Karl Lagerfeld in person, just for me and moi alone. Understandably, je pense, that thought had me shrieking in horror, and I think that is when my leg accidentally―it truly was une accident!―connected with Prussia's face and I… well, I probably knocked him out.
It hadn't been―no. No, that's not right; it had been my full intention to send him to the ground.
Mistakes happen.
What can you do? Apart from protecting your suit, I mean. This is called limitation des dommages, limitation of damage. Or defect. Prussia being quite clearly the defect here, no.
Mais oui, Prussia. Prussia, who was once more lying half-consciously on the ground. One could have felt guilty the way he was sprawled out there, a thin thread of drool trickling down his chin.
Attention! Could being the keyword here, not that I actually did. I mean, would you feel sorry if one attacked your exclusively designed Karl Lagerfeld suit? Oui, I can hear your answer and be assured, it is music in my ears. Be a dear and lovely and try to think your answer in French now and you get a kiss for free. (Which is not to say I wouldn’t kiss you anyway. Kissing, I have invented kissing, have I not? Kissing lovely beauties is my mission commissioned by no one else than God himself. And we all do know there is only one God and he speaks the language of love and has the most beautiful face the world has ever seen.)
The Remarkable Franco-German Friendship (3c/?)
anonymous
April 25 2010, 14:05:38 UTC
Despite myself, I felt a slight pinch of guilt regardless and so I did nudge him with the tip of my shoe until I stirred a reaction from him.
But only the tip of my food and only with utmost caution, mind you. I didn’t want to ruin my shoes either. Prussian drool may have burned itself through all that leather, putting even acid to shame. You can never tell with those Germans and their German-ish states, can you?
"Say, my friend, why are you wearing make-up? I always thought you were..." Everything in me was reluctant to say too manly because that would have been an insult to actual men like myself and I didn't want to say above it all because it is hard to describe someone as above it all when the only thing he is doing is lying beneath it all so I hesitated. And waited for the right words to find their way out of my mouth. They didn’t. And I flailed. And flailed some more until Prussia, half dazing, half trying to find his way back to the world of the living, offered, "Awesome?"
"No," I said, perhaps un peu too fast. "But the point still stands, and you may still feel free to explain it to me. That is," I said while my gaze wandered from his head to toe and back up again, "if you get any coherent sentence plastered together. Without awesome, Prussia," I added, "S'il te plait."
____
merde - shit Zut alors! - Gosh darn it! Qui ne dit mot consent. - Silence gives consent. Pourquoi? - Why
Oh France, will we ever come to Germany. (Yes, yes we will. Next part even.)
Don't forget to put on your spam filter, boys and girls.
Re: The Remarkable Franco-German Friendship (3c/?)
anonymous
April 25 2010, 14:32:47 UTC
Ramble ramble little France, we just want you in Allemagne's pants.... (sung to the tune of twinkle twinkle little star)
Your france is adorable, but I kind of lost the thread with the rambling about canada and fear. I'm enjoying this immensely nontheless, but perhaps cher francis could be nudged back towards the plot a bit more often?
Re: The Remarkable Franco-German Friendship (3c/?)
anonymous
April 25 2010, 14:45:53 UTC
I adore your rambling France voice, mostly because that's a lot how I write him too (god please France-in-the-fic-I'm-writing let me go back to main point I'll give you Corsica covered in chocolate?)
So, yeah. Rambling. He does that. But he does it so well. And I love your writing.
Prussia. W. T. F. Does your little brother know? Wait, do I want the answer to that question?
Re: The Remarkable Franco-German Friendship (3c/?)
anonymous
April 25 2010, 19:02:48 UTC
YOU YOU YOU ARE MY HERO. i love this to death like you wouldn't believe. Oh France. Rambling and rambling and rambling...i've honestly never seen a france so--what's the word? well, fabulous, really. he's so amazing. i will have to look up this karl person. <--is a stupid
Ah, basically, Karl Lagerfeld is a German fashion designer living in 'exile' in Paris. Europe considers him the God of Fashion and his word is Law. Or something like that. Apparently. I probably should have added that to the footnotes, my bad!
... Now, where wa―ah! Right! Prussia, of all nations, dressed in lederhosen and wearing make-up. Horrible, oui, and I mean the French pronunciation here. I was so scared.
Pourquoi?
I can’t believe you ask.
Alors, please do imagine Prussia and now do imagine him sloshed out of his mind. You have done that? Perfect. Now try to recall the look of lederhosen, that horrendous Bavarian clown costume in leather. If you succeed in doing that transfer that image onto Prussia―remember, still sloshed out of his mind. Last but not least you try to imagine all that and Prussia, coming straight out of a gay bar.
If you still can sleep at night, pretend to be Canadian if you are not (then pet Canada's lovely hair on my behalf and do remind him to wash it with the new shampoo I have sent him last week, it makes his hair as smooth as mine) and imagine you go to bed. Prussia is creeping outside in your garden. And now he comes through your unlocked door at night, heading for your kitchen. Mistaking your maple syrup for beer.
If you are not Canadian and cannot pretend to be Canadian and do still sleep at night, rather well, I might add, then go to your local German pub and ask for a Bavarian sausage salad except you don't want it Bavarian style but rather East German style with an extra lot of mayonnaise and French fries. I assure you, you won't have any troubles keeping your eyes open for the next three weeks to come.
Horrible?
Oui. Absolutely.
Although I have to admit it is a bit unfair to compare Prussia with his food―even his food has its dignity, I have been told―and even more so to instill nightmares in the lovely minds of my lovely Canada's people.
En plus, my fear didn't last as long as the trauma of East German food or angry, sloshed out Prussian syrup thieves creeping through your backdoor would have had its effects on its respective victims.
My fear lasted for ten seconds,actually, in which I feared Prussia would smear his… ah… 'colourful' face against my new suit exclusively designed by Karl Lagerfeld in person, just for me and moi alone. Understandably, je pense, that thought had me shrieking in horror, and I think that is when my leg accidentally―it truly was une accident!―connected with Prussia's face and I… well, I probably knocked him out.
It hadn't been―no. No, that's not right; it had been my full intention to send him to the ground.
Mistakes happen.
What can you do? Apart from protecting your suit, I mean. This is called limitation des dommages, limitation of damage. Or defect. Prussia being quite clearly the defect here, no.
Mais oui, Prussia. Prussia, who was once more lying half-consciously on the ground. One could have felt guilty the way he was sprawled out there, a thin thread of drool trickling down his chin.
Attention! Could being the keyword here, not that I actually did. I mean, would you feel sorry if one attacked your exclusively designed Karl Lagerfeld suit? Oui, I can hear your answer and be assured, it is music in my ears. Be a dear and lovely and try to think your answer in French now and you get a kiss for free. (Which is not to say I wouldn’t kiss you anyway. Kissing, I have invented kissing, have I not? Kissing lovely beauties is my mission commissioned by no one else than God himself. And we all do know there is only one God and he speaks the language of love and has the most beautiful face the world has ever seen.)
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But only the tip of my food and only with utmost caution, mind you. I didn’t want to ruin my shoes either. Prussian drool may have burned itself through all that leather, putting even acid to shame. You can never tell with those Germans and their German-ish states, can you?
"Say, my friend, why are you wearing make-up? I always thought you were..." Everything in me was reluctant to say too manly because that would have been an insult to actual men like myself and I didn't want to say above it all because it is hard to describe someone as above it all when the only thing he is doing is lying beneath it all so I hesitated. And waited for the right words to find their way out of my mouth. They didn’t. And I flailed. And flailed some more until Prussia, half dazing, half trying to find his way back to the world of the living, offered, "Awesome?"
"No," I said, perhaps un peu too fast. "But the point still stands, and you may still feel free to explain it to me. That is," I said while my gaze wandered from his head to toe and back up again, "if you get any coherent sentence plastered together. Without awesome, Prussia," I added, "S'il te plait."
____
merde - shit
Zut alors! - Gosh darn it!
Qui ne dit mot consent. - Silence gives consent.
Pourquoi? - Why
Oh France, will we ever come to Germany. (Yes, yes we will. Next part even.)
Don't forget to put on your spam filter, boys and girls.
Reply
we just want you in Allemagne's pants....
(sung to the tune of twinkle twinkle little star)
Your france is adorable, but I kind of lost the thread with the rambling about canada and fear. I'm enjoying this immensely nontheless, but perhaps cher francis could be nudged back towards the plot a bit more often?
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So, yeah. Rambling. He does that. But he does it so well. And I love your writing.
Prussia. W. T. F. Does your little brother know? Wait, do I want the answer to that question?
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YOU
YOU ARE MY HERO.
i love this to death like you wouldn't believe.
Oh France. Rambling and rambling and rambling...i've honestly never seen a france so--what's the word? well, fabulous, really. he's so amazing.
i will have to look up this karl person. <--is a stupid
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