Look at this Fucking Fill [1a/?]
anonymous
August 27 2010, 07:49:37 UTC
This is kind of a cross between the above prompt and another from part 14, which asks to base a story on the nations where their relationships have nothing to do with their cannon relationships (just to see how they get along based on personality alone). Eirik is Iceland and Nils is Norway - those seem to be among the most common fandom names so I just went with it. And we’re just gonna say that the drinking age in this pretend city is 18, or maybe the younger kids all have fakes. This will probably trace the next year in their lives - or at least the school year. Oh! And multiple fills are gold! I wanna see what you guys come up with. Do eet!
---
AUGUST
---
An extremely drunk guy with glasses and one of those annoying mustache finger tattoos hit the bar beside Natalia with a loud thud. “You...yuh...y’are smokin’ girl.”
She had to cut off Eirik’s rant about how he wished he could’ve been alive to take part in some avant-garde performance troupe (Elbow something?) to send a scathing glare the intruder’s way. All she got was a rather lopsided, but still blinding, smile and a proffered hand. “M’name’s Alfrrred,” the blond smiled. “Wussyurs?”
God, how annoying. He might’ve been cute sober. And with better glasses. And without those dumb skate shoes. And without that fucking dumbass tattoo.
She scowled, flipped her hair behind her back, observed her nails - a nice color of Jade green, today - and then sent a look that idiot’s way that had made better men cry.
---
God this babe was hot....so hot. There were probably no hotter babes...in...yeah. Uh, in...well none nearby, definitely. Yeah she was hot. And he was cool! Yeah...hot babes...go with cool dudes, yeah? That made sense...maybe...
Oh yeah, she was looking right at him. She was kinda scary like that...but still really hot. Charm it up, Alfred! Let her know you’re a cool dude! Hot and cold, ya know? They gotta go together!
“Baabe, you didn’t...d’n’t tell me yer name....but stilllll...I will totes buy ya a PBR. You arrre, like, so hot. Hotterrr than...th’n Alexa Chung, or somethin’. ‘n that girl is...she...she’s’ot.”
“How cliché,” was murmured by that - that really blonde dude - like, uh.... Dude that dude is really blond.
“Duuude,” Alfred slurred out, “y’r hair - you..are..rrreally blond. Your hair’s like....your hair’s like white. S’white blond. S’like an albino? M’roommate’s’n albino.”
“Charming,” the hot girl said, “now go away, hipster scum.”
“Heeeey, ‘m not’a hip...hipsterrr!”
The blond dude was making some noise, and some lipstick girl by him was laughing maybe...Alfred should probably be offended by that noise...but the hot girl! He’s gotta let her know...he’s not...er. Wait. Let her know how cool he was? There seemed to be something he was forgetting.
“I don’t care,” dream girl announced. “Go away.”
God, she was gorgeous. Alfred took the time to observe her cute flowered romper, cable-knit cardigan, and gross grandma flats as his face sank its way closer to the bar’s counter.
“D’ya ride a’bike? Betcha’d...ya’d look rrrreal cute on a bike...”
“Go away before I punch you in the face. Or get the bartender.”
Alfred decided that the hot girl was ignoring him now...or...she was talking to really blond guy and giggle-lipstick girl again... Gotta let her know he’s cool.
“I skate ya know...n...do otherrr cool stuff...ya like movies? Orrr music....yeah...m’friend...I think I toldya ‘bout th’ roommate....we’reinna band. Kinda like the Black Lipsss...but...with like...some kraut...krautrock, yeah. Should see us.”
Yeah, she was looking at him again! Kinda...uh...murderously.... Oh shi-
---
“Hey, bartender?”
“S’Berwald. Told ya a dozen times.”
A flat look. Berwald shifted a flannel-clad shoulder in a suggestion of a shrug, and looked unimpressed behind his plastic frames. For some reason, Eirik and Bella were cowering.
“That kid,” Natalia pointed to the guy KO’d on the floor, “needs to leave.”
Re: LATFF [1b/?]
anonymous
August 27 2010, 07:52:48 UTC
---
“Rise and shine, Alfredo! Check out our new addition!”
Ugh, noise. Alfred groaned and rolled over in his bed, only to be stuck in the back by something sharp. “What the fuck, Gil?!” He looked up at his roommate blearily, but all he could make out of the cackling albino without his glasses was that he was wearing the same thing he always did (skinny jeans, tall combat boots, an “artfully large” tee from Francis that showed off half his chest and collarbones - all in black), had one booted foot up on his bed, and had something massive and pointy shoved right toward him.
He sat up and groped around for his glasses - and, Jesus, his head hurt. “Drank too much,” he croaked out.
“I’ll say dude - I got to the bar and you were passed out in the front!”
Huh, wonder how that happened. Last thing Alfred remembered was seeing that total babe. “Thanks for getting me - “
Gilbert tossed his glasses at him and cut in with “Hey, you owe me! Free booze! Or weed! Maybe both man. Or my rent next month.”
“Darn freeloader,” Alfred grumbled, and then “holy crap is that a deer?!”
Gilbert started up his crazy laugh and hiked up the mounted deer head underneath his arm. “Sweet right? Found it at the Salvation Army this morning, gonna put this in the common area!”
“Er, okay,” Alfred drawled out. How could his friend be so cheerful in the morning anyway? He had a hangover from hell.
Gilbert scoffed. “There is nothing that is not awesome about this deer. You’re just a fuckin’ prissy-ass moron obsessed with proper ~design~ and ~use of space~, Alfredo.” He swung the deer head around to look it in the eye as he addressed it with the utmost seriousness. “They brainwash the little design fags until they can’t see truly inspiring design right in front of their noses, eh, deer?”
By now Alfred had burrowed back into the covers. “We need a better name for it. ‘nd I’m in architecture.”
“Psh, only technically. You design bus stops and shit. Coffee’s brewing, babe, get your ass up. Gonna go show Nils the new housemate - he’ll like it more than you anyway, he’s into mythology and goddamn harsh noise and blood and awesomeness. He’ll dig it.”
“I didn’t say it wasn’t rad! I’ve just got the worst headache of my life! And you gotta let me help you name it!”
“Yeah, fine, don’t get your fancy AA panties twisted. And come to breakfast, it’s already noon, lazy ass.”
---
Alfred made his way into the common area (still in his AA briefs, just as a nice “screw you” to Gil) with minimal incident, considering that the world spun with every step he took. Gilbert was perched on the broken-down sofa, juggling coffee, his cigarette, and the deer under his arm; Nils had temporarily abandoned his breakfast on the coffee table to put on a record -probably some kind of noise-drone thing.
“Nils,” Alfred whined, “don’t make it something harsh. Hangover.”
Nils glanced over at Alfred before a quiet inquiry of “Stars of the Lid?”
“No,” Gilbert cut in, “nothing happens, boringest shit ever.”
Nils made a noise of disapproval. Alfred suggested Can’s Future Days. “B-side?” Nils asked.
“Is that Bel Air?” A nod. “Fuck yeah! Ow, dude, my head.” Nils laughed at Alfred’s stupidity under his breath.
“Ya know, I don’t get it,” Gilbert started. Alfred groaned - not this again. “Nils, you like kickass noise and punk, blah, blah, blah, but then you listen to cutesy ambient crap.”
“What happened to your face, Alfred?” Nils asked instead, completely ignoring Gilbert.
“Yeah Al!” Apparently Gilbert’s curiosity was enough to ignore the brush-off. “You look like you got decked or something!”
LATFF [1c/?]
anonymous
August 27 2010, 07:54:51 UTC
---
Roderich listened to his boss recommend a few dresses for the girl in the dressing room, and sat at the cashier’s desk, tapping his fingers to some half-remembered song.
He was bored. All of the new clothes had been unpacked and brought to the front of the store, he’d cleaned, there wasn’t anything to do until a new customer came in. Or Nils came in and he got off of work for the day.
Though he still had a tutoring session later - and was tonight that performance? He should check his calendar. He whipped out his phone to see, and then the door chimed.
“Hello,” he called from the back of the small space. Sound carried pretty well, what with the hardwood floors and minimal interior. He walked up to the front to greet the young woman who had come in. “Welcome to Ombre, have you been in? I’m Roderich.”
She seemed taken aback by his presence and he sighed internally. He was better at addressing men’s clothing needs; the women always seemed skittish around him.
“I’m actually here to see Francis?” she squeaked. “I think he said he was the owner?”
“Ah, er, yes,” Roderich replied. “He’s helping someone out now, but -”
“Hello dear,” Francis pranced over and into the conversation, “were you the one who was looking for the Alexander Wang last week?” Before she could do more than nod, Francis grabbed her by the arm and whisked her to the women’s side of the store, going on about the pieces he’d bought at the fall trunk shows this year, and there was some new A.P.C. and Vena Cava in...
Half an hour later the shop was empty but for the two of them. Roderich sighed. “I don’t get it. Women come into the shop and go straight to you. Women meet us at a gallery opening and go straight to you. You come to my performances and women go straight to you.”
Francis gave a light laugh. “You need something more distinguishing when you’re with the likes of me,” he winked at Roderich, who was so used to it by now it didn’t register. “You dress nicely, of course - I wouldn’t let you work here if you didn’t - that vest looks fantastic, by the way, navy suits you - but...you do lack a little...something, in your appearance...” Here Francis leaned back and scrutinized him like a painting he was trying to understand while Roderich tried not to fidget under his gaze.
“You should get glasses!” Francis exclaimed at last, clapping his hands.
“Glasses? But I don’t need glasses,” Roderich frowned.
“Ah, they would look so good on you, come here, let us find you some,” and Roderich was whisked to the computer to find some exemplary glasses online.
The door chimed and they both looked up, only to find Nils coming in for his shift.
“Nils, beautiful, come here and help Roderich and I pick out a pair of glasses. Don’t you think he would look fantastic with glasses?”
Nils shrugged. Francis draped himself over the smaller man’s shoulders. “You cannot say you have no opinion - I know you know style. Look at this,” he picked at Nils’ shirt, “it’s a simple t-shirt with some straps, but you carry it so well. And it matches the straps and buckles on your boots,” here his hand ran down Nils’ upper arm, “so...what do you think?” what breathed against the man’s ear.
Nils looked to Roderich and mumbled a “nothing too bulky.”
Francis sighed. “It’s like hitting on a brick wall,” he deadpanned over toward Roderich.
---
This was it. Matthew took a deep breath to steady himself. His dream girl, the girl he’d had a crush on for two years now, the girl who had started the University’s community gardens, and the Vegan and Vegetarian alliance, and the campaign for bike lanes on campus, and, and - Oh, God, everything about her was perfect - except she had only noticed him a grand total of two times. Once was when they were on a hike with the University’s Environmental Club and she’d asked him for water (he kept the canteen in his desk drawer, still unwashed), and the other was when she had almost run into him on her fixed gear.
He stood by the entrance to the fair-trade coffeeshop she worked at and admired her from the door. No one seemed to notice him, but he was used to that by now. When he was working in the local bike shop, no one really seemed to know he was there until he was right in front of them.
LATFF [1d/?]
anonymous
August 27 2010, 07:57:58 UTC
Okay, Matthew. Just step right up front. She’s the only one working.
He stood as authoritatively as he could in front of the counter; still, it was a few minutes before he was noticed.
“Oh, sorry about that! Guess I wasn’t paying attention.”
Matthew laughed a little. “That usually happens when I’m here - er, I mean, no one notices me, not, er, I mean you’re fine - I mean, the customer service is fine -” Oh God he was blushing terribly, he just knew it.
“...right. So...what would you like, sir?”
“Matthew,” he said.
“Huh?”
“I mean, my name’s Matthew.”
“Oh. Ah, yeah, my name’s Elizabeta.”
Matthew just barely refrained from saying “I know” immediately. She stood there waiting on his order and he stood there blushing, before she asked “So...you come here a lot then?”
“Erm, kinda,” was the reply. “Though, I’m not going to be around next semester...I’m studying abroad in Fr-”
“ELIZA!” drowned out whatever Matthew was going to say. Elizabeta’s attention was diverted to the fellow in ripped jeans, nose piercing, oddly chopped hair, and large eyebrows marching toward the counter.
“Arthur!” she chirped. “Glad to see you’re alive - when I left the show you could barely stand.”
Matthew was forgotten in the banter between the two friends.
---
“Antonio,” Francis murmured as he grabbed the strap to the other man’s tank top, “why do you have to wear such atrocious things? You would look so nice in a button-up.”
Antonio just laughed as Francis sat down on the couch and threw an arm around his shoulders. “This is comfortable. I don’t need to look fancy.”
Francis let the arm around the shoulders pick at the strap again, while his other began pushing up the fabric covering Antonio’s stomach. “But it’s so nice when you do look, as you put it, fancy.” Antonio just hummed, so Francis continued. “And I am the owner of Ombre, it wouldn’t be hard to give you a discount...”
At this Antonio laughed cheerfully. “I work for a CSA! I don’t need to look nice at all!”
Francis let his hand ride up underneath the shirt and leaned in to nuzzle Antonio’s neck, placing a soft trail of kisses down it. “Regardless, I don’t want to see you in this any longer.”
Antonio gasped and then let out a breathy “Oh. Okay.”
---
God damn. Why did I never realize how incredibly hot France and Spain are when you put them together? I was gonna make Francis and Antonio swingery folk, but I might just have to make them both be in an open relationship, or something. We’ll see. Anyway, for September we’ve got a bunch of people coming back into town for school! Except for Canada. He’s vanishing for a while. Oh and if anyone’s curious about ages, for the most part they’re the cannon ones if they exist (Iceland just turned 18 here, Canada is 20, Prussia and Norway are 21, Hungary is 22, Austria is 23)
aafbl;aifgf TYPOS
anonymous
August 27 2010, 08:07:33 UTC
A/N: Francis talking to Nils should be "Roderich and me" (I was going back and forth between two different sentences, sigh) and it should say "he breathed against his ear" not "what breathed etc etc"
SleepyFAIL. Which means there are probably one billion more typos I didn't catch.
KJAHKJWAN AUTHOR ANON I LOVE YOU I AM SO EXCITED FOR WHAT'S TO COME. ugh this looks to be shaping up into something brilliant and hilarious, I smiled through the entire thing < 3
AND YES MULTIPLE FILLS ARE TOTALLY ENCOURAGED BY ME TOO
"God damn. Why did I never realize how incredibly hot France and Spain are when you put them together?"
MY OTP THX. Spread the word lolol, this pairing is completely underrated imo
I'll leave a proper review when I am actually coherent, until then, ahhhhh < 3333
Sketch Dump #3
anonymous
September 18 2010, 02:22:36 UTC
So February’s ~2/3 of the way done, but I’m kinda busy this weekend and I’m updating this other fill so here are some sketches to tide y’all over!
Also: YOU GUYS ROCK SO HARD <3<3<3<3 /HEARTSPAM I wish I could reply to everyone but there’s that whole “taking up comment space” issue so just lemme say THANKS FOR BEING AWESOME :D
Also also: To the anon who wanted to see the fem versions of characters - workin’ on it! Fem!Romano’s about halfway done - anyone in particular you want to see? Fem!Netherlands is up in the Halloween sketch dump btw.
Sadiq and his crazy attire/piercings: http://i56.tinypic.com/2aaljbb.jpg It’s kind of impossible to find official art of his face. So, er, whatever.
Roderich lookin’ cute: http://i52.tinypic.com/uwsh3.jpg I drew him in a tiny corner of my sketchbook which sucks because I really want to draw his shoes. They are classy. Black pointed-toe oxfords, yo.
Re: Sketch Dump #3
anonymous
September 18 2010, 03:00:16 UTC
holy shit you're also a rabid Sweden fangirl. Like seriously him and Sadiq are the two characters in the whole series I wish were real people.... and fuck you've given Sadiq some kick ass piercings there for making him hotter and Berwald is dressed like how I wold dress a tall handsome hunk of Scandinavian man so yeah loving that too...
And Roderich would so wear oxfords. I can't imagine him in Anything else.
dammit now i want to give you fan art of the Au... wold that be cool with you?
Look at this Fucking Fill [2a/?]
anonymous
August 28 2010, 11:05:02 UTC
BTW: Look at this Fucking Hipster is a funny blog of dumb hipster pictures, and where the title comes from. Should’ve put that up on the first post *facepalm* Let's hope I don't screw up the posting. Tina, 20, is genderswapped!Finland; Jens, 28, is Germania; Mathias , 25, is Denmark; Alonzo, 30 is Rome. Pretty much because that name rules.
---
SEPTEMBER
---
Alfred hurriedly swallowed his mouthful of hummus as he heard the phone pick up. “Hey Ludwig, you’re back in town right? The moped’s not workin’. Wanna help me fix it?”
His pal sighed over the phone, but Alfred could hear the smile in his reply. “And I assume I need to bring my metric toolkit over?”
“You got it bro!”
---
Alfred and Ludwig had grabbed some bottles of High Life and had set up camp on the meager back patio of Alfred’s apartment. Alfred fished around for his extra spark plug. “I can’t figure out what’s wrong with it this time - lucky I’ve got one of you industrial design fellas as a pal,” he winked over.
Ludwig blushed and shot a shy smile (well, more like a twitch of the lips) at Alfred.
Alfred just laughed. “On top of that, I’d never have gotten through Calc III without you and Feliks!”
Ludwig resisted the urge to play with the wrench in his hands. “It would help if you would actually do your homework without us making you,” he replied with a trace of irritation in his voice.
“Yeah, yeah, but it’s so hard when there’s so much going on! I mean, between band practice, and going to shows - “
“-and trying to pick up girls at bars,” was grumbled under Ludwig’s breath.
“And - huh?”
Ludwig blushed again, caught. He took a swig of beer to cover it up and made a noncommittal noise.
“Well, anyway, you takin’ that Bauhaus course this fall? They only offer it every three years or something.”
“Mm, yes, there’s an industrial design component. Not to mention the movement had considerable impact on modern design and architecture. It would be foolish not to.”
“Plus it’s German, you’re a sucker for your heritage dude. So glad you’ve somehow managed to avoid meeting Gilbert - I mean, we’re BFF’s so don’t ask me how that works - you two would start up an Oktoberfest or - hey, you don’t think the fuel tank needs to be flushed, do you? Looks okay to me.”
Ludwig tried to simultaneously lean over Alfred and avoid touching him to look in. “Looks fine.” He handed the flashlight back to Alfred and had a mini-heart-attack when their hands brushed.
“Yeah thought so. Alrighty, mister spark plug, let’s see if you’re our problem.” He looked over to Ludwig and shot a megawatt grin. “Hey, you know Ludwig. We should totally team up for a project in that class! I can do the building stuff and you can do, you know, furniture design or the engineering or whatever - it’ll totally be like we are students in the middle one - “
“Dessau.”
“- yeah, that one - “
Alfred rambled on about how cool it would be to be students in 1920s Germany, and Ludwig took the time to appreciate the lean, strong lines of Alfred’s back as he stretched to reach the front of the engine.
Look at this Fucking Fill [2b/?]
anonymous
August 28 2010, 11:10:41 UTC
---
Francis sat the new glasses on Roderich’s face. They both turned to the floor-length mirror appraisingly.
“You’re right,” Roderich hummed. “I do look better in glasses.”
“Of course - the navy gradient is a good choice. You wear so much navy.”
“Black is too dreary,” Roderich sighed. “But I’d still like to dress with class.”
“Navy is perfect, then,” Francis agreed. “Though you should lighten it up somewhat. A differently colored tie?”
“No,” Roderich snapped. “It looks sleek like this. Sophisticated.” He crossed his arms and tilted his chin up in what he hoped was an affected yet defiant look.
“Consider a pocket square then.”
The door chimed and a young woman with her blond hair twisted back in an elegantly disheveled french braid and bright green eyes walked in, meekly. Francis elbowed Roderich to take care of it.
He stepped lightly over with an introduction and asked if she was looking for something in particular.
“Uh, no, not exactly. I was just looking online at Yelp reviews, and they said that this store carried Acne?”
“We do,” Roderich said, “it’s over - “
“Oh no, I’m not exactly looking for Acne...I just thought that, you know, if you had a brand I liked then it would probably be worth checking out.”
Roderich cleared his throat and adjusted his watch a bit awkwardly. The girl looked up at him with those bright green eyes. She was pretty cute. He held out his hand. “I’m Roderich - feel free to look around, just call if you have need of me.”
She let out a dainty laugh and placed her small hand in his. He hoped his hand wasn’t sweaty, how unappealing. “Mine’s Lili.” She gave a small curtsey and skipped over to the women’s side.
“She’s a cute little thing, non?” was murmured just under Roderich’s ear.
He jumped and Francis’ jaw clacked shut against his shoulder. “Francis!” he hissed.
Francis rubbed his jaw, glared at Roderich, then sashayed over to the girl, calling out “Here, let me take those to the fitting room for you - I have to step out to run a small errand, so ask Roderich for any opinions, dear. He has a good eye for beauty.”
Roderich was going to strangle Francis, boss or not.
---
“What do you think of this one?” Lili emerged in a 50’s-esque black chiffon polka dot dress. It was both hot and utterly adorable - it nipped in to show off her tiny waist but draped loosely everywhere else.
Oh dear. Roderich cursed his body for reacting like a teenager’s. A teenager’s! The impropriety!
“I-It’s nice,” he stammered out. “But, ah, I think there’s another dress out here you would like, if you like this one. Should I fetch it for you?”
“Sure!”
He couldn’t decide if he was perverted or if this was how all decent salespeople felt. He did know that she would look wonderful in the dress he had in mind, though. Tasteful, feminine, a soft pink hue that would complement her lips and cheeks - she’d look ready to take to the orchestra. Or dancing. Or dancing with an orchestra. Now there was an idea.
---
Roderich didn’t need Francis sighing at him; he already knew he was a coward for not asking Lili to an orchestra/dance/anything at all. He just totally lost his nerve (and his voice) after seeing her in that dress. Oh, and here was Nils. Great, the two of them could both make fun of him.
Nils stopped in front of them and Francis and he had a silent war. Francis insisted that Nils was too quiet and that to remain employed he had to at least muster a greeting and a small bit of conversation. “Heya, trust funders,” Nils finally said.
Francis squawked, indignant, and Roderich tried not to laugh at the snarky kid. “A trust-funder, he says!” He turned to Roderich to share his outrage.
Nils smirked. “Are you denying it?”
“I will have you know,” Francis pointed menacingly to Nils, “that I make my own money now, if you couldn’t tell,” he gestured around the store. “That fund just sits there now! Though it is reassuring to have,” he muttered under his breath.
Roderich shrugged. Nils knew he worked part-time here and spent the rest of his time tutoring music students. “I don’t spend mine on anything but rent,” he pointed out.
“Because you spend all the money you make here on clothes,” Nils shot back. “But then you bring in Ramen for lunch. Gotta keep up appearances I guess.”
Look at this Fucking Fill [2c/?]
anonymous
August 28 2010, 11:13:10 UTC
---
Austria’s glasses are like these, but with a navy gradient instead (remove the spaces!): http:// www.framesdirect.com/ framesfp/ Burberry-tdoiqj/r.html
---
Francis was draped over Nils’ shoulder at the desk. “Would you stop that?” Nils said for what he thought was the seven-thousandth time.
Francis played with his hair. “This?”
“Yes. You’re not allowed to do that, you know. Ever heard of harassment?”
Francis pouted. “I think you must be asexual. I’ve never seen you express interest in anyone at all, dear, and you’ve worked here nearly six months.”
Nils just grunted and continued reading his music blogs.
“I’m serious. Tell me, have you ever dated anyone?”
Nils sighed and rolled his eyes. Why was his boss so fucking nosey? He knew this would keep going until he said something, so he guessed he should just answer the guy. “Yes.”
“Oh, really!” Francis sounded delighted. “I was not kidding about thinking you asexual, you know. Girls or guys?”
A jagged frown contorted Nils’ face. “Both. Nothing serious. I like skinny androgynous people. Which you aren’t. And because you seem to forget, you’re my boss. That’s all I’m saying so stop bothering me.”
---
Alfred held up a blue pair of boxer briefs and a red pair of American Apparel briefs. “Dude, you’re gonna have to tell me about Poland, but later. I can’t figure out what to wear. I don’t wanna be too gay, but I mean, I guess it is Rocky Horror.
“I don’t see why you don’t just, you know, embrace the gay. You’re going to Rocky Horror with a man in, like, gold hotpants,” Feliks snapped.
Alfred sighed. “Because I’m not gay, maybe? But Feliks! Gimme an opinion! Boxer briefs or just briefs? ‘Cuz I think I’m gonna wear this really crazy cardigan - it’s got a lot of maroon and a lot of blue, too - actually here, lemme get it -”
Alfred’s upper half dived into his closet, though Feliks just called that entire half of the room his ‘closet’. He continued adding glitter to his face. “So where did your housemates go?”
“Some noise show,” Alfred’s muffled voice floated from the depths of the closet. “Little asian dude with grindy sounds and delay pedals - at Arthur and Eliza’s place.”
Feliks sniffed. Place is too nice of a word for where they lived, in his opinion. “Is it at least, you know, not totally gross now with Eliza there?”
“Yeah actually, it’s pretty clean for an anarchist-communist-squatter-freegan-whatever household, now.”
Feliks raised an eyebrow. “Anarchist-communist?” he repeated.
Alfred popped out the closet, a thin, insanely patterned cardigan in hand. He shrugged. “How should I know? I don’t care.”
Feliks looked over Alfred. “Okay, go with the briefs, they match the cardigan better. And maybe some boots-”
“-too gay-”
“-or, like, your white hi-tops-”
“Feliks, you’re a genius!”
“-and then, I dunno, a headband?”
Alfred dashed to the bathroom to change and returned a few moments later with headbands in hand. “Yeah, Feliks, I’m not feeling this,” he said once the headbands were on.
Feliks looked over and snorted. “You look like a total high-schooler with those.”
“Ugh,” Alfred ripped them off - they sailed across the room. He went over to a table scattered with records, flyers, and old cans of Mountain Dew and beer, picked up a few necklaces, and slung them over his head instead.
“Um, are those bullets strung on those?” Feliks asked incredulously.
Alfred laughed. “Yeah, this one,” he lifted a mid-length one with a small silver chain, “has a shotgun shell though.”
“Where did they come from?”
“Went thrifting with Gil last winter and found two of ‘em - man, we had a huge fight over who got to keep ‘em, too, sometimes he swipes them from me still -”
“Alfred,” Feliks prompted.
“Oh yeah! And then Ludwig sent me some over the summer for my birthday. What a cool birthday present, right?”
Feliks let out a laugh at that. “I totally think he has, like, a huge crush on you,” he said.
“Nah dude. You know he’s an industrial design guy - he said he was already doing some metalworks stuff anyway and thought it’d be a good gift, ya know?”
A snort, followed by “Can I, like, put some glitter on you? It would look totally amazing near your temples with those glasses.”
---
AUGUST
---
An extremely drunk guy with glasses and one of those annoying mustache finger tattoos hit the bar beside Natalia with a loud thud. “You...yuh...y’are smokin’ girl.”
She had to cut off Eirik’s rant about how he wished he could’ve been alive to take part in some avant-garde performance troupe (Elbow something?) to send a scathing glare the intruder’s way. All she got was a rather lopsided, but still blinding, smile and a proffered hand. “M’name’s Alfrrred,” the blond smiled. “Wussyurs?”
God, how annoying. He might’ve been cute sober. And with better glasses. And without those dumb skate shoes. And without that fucking dumbass tattoo.
She scowled, flipped her hair behind her back, observed her nails - a nice color of Jade green, today - and then sent a look that idiot’s way that had made better men cry.
---
God this babe was hot....so hot. There were probably no hotter babes...in...yeah. Uh, in...well none nearby, definitely. Yeah she was hot. And he was cool! Yeah...hot babes...go with cool dudes, yeah? That made sense...maybe...
Oh yeah, she was looking right at him. She was kinda scary like that...but still really hot. Charm it up, Alfred! Let her know you’re a cool dude! Hot and cold, ya know? They gotta go together!
“Baabe, you didn’t...d’n’t tell me yer name....but stilllll...I will totes buy ya a PBR. You arrre, like, so hot. Hotterrr than...th’n Alexa Chung, or somethin’. ‘n that girl is...she...she’s’ot.”
“How cliché,” was murmured by that - that really blonde dude - like, uh.... Dude that dude is really blond.
“Duuude,” Alfred slurred out, “y’r hair - you..are..rrreally blond. Your hair’s like....your hair’s like white. S’white blond. S’like an albino? M’roommate’s’n albino.”
“Charming,” the hot girl said, “now go away, hipster scum.”
“Heeeey, ‘m not’a hip...hipsterrr!”
The blond dude was making some noise, and some lipstick girl by him was laughing maybe...Alfred should probably be offended by that noise...but the hot girl! He’s gotta let her know...he’s not...er. Wait. Let her know how cool he was? There seemed to be something he was forgetting.
“I don’t care,” dream girl announced. “Go away.”
God, she was gorgeous. Alfred took the time to observe her cute flowered romper, cable-knit cardigan, and gross grandma flats as his face sank its way closer to the bar’s counter.
“D’ya ride a’bike? Betcha’d...ya’d look rrrreal cute on a bike...”
“Go away before I punch you in the face. Or get the bartender.”
“Wha’no! Barrrtendr’scary! S’all quiet...n’has’a bearrrd n’glassesss...n grunt...grunts.”
Alfred decided that the hot girl was ignoring him now...or...she was talking to really blond guy and giggle-lipstick girl again... Gotta let her know he’s cool.
“I skate ya know...n...do otherrr cool stuff...ya like movies? Orrr music....yeah...m’friend...I think I toldya ‘bout th’ roommate....we’reinna band. Kinda like the Black Lipsss...but...with like...some kraut...krautrock, yeah. Should see us.”
Yeah, she was looking at him again! Kinda...uh...murderously.... Oh shi-
---
“Hey, bartender?”
“S’Berwald. Told ya a dozen times.”
A flat look. Berwald shifted a flannel-clad shoulder in a suggestion of a shrug, and looked unimpressed behind his plastic frames. For some reason, Eirik and Bella were cowering.
“That kid,” Natalia pointed to the guy KO’d on the floor, “needs to leave.”
---
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“Rise and shine, Alfredo! Check out our new addition!”
Ugh, noise. Alfred groaned and rolled over in his bed, only to be stuck in the back by something sharp. “What the fuck, Gil?!” He looked up at his roommate blearily, but all he could make out of the cackling albino without his glasses was that he was wearing the same thing he always did (skinny jeans, tall combat boots, an “artfully large” tee from Francis that showed off half his chest and collarbones - all in black), had one booted foot up on his bed, and had something massive and pointy shoved right toward him.
He sat up and groped around for his glasses - and, Jesus, his head hurt. “Drank too much,” he croaked out.
“I’ll say dude - I got to the bar and you were passed out in the front!”
Huh, wonder how that happened. Last thing Alfred remembered was seeing that total babe. “Thanks for getting me - “
Gilbert tossed his glasses at him and cut in with “Hey, you owe me! Free booze! Or weed! Maybe both man. Or my rent next month.”
“Darn freeloader,” Alfred grumbled, and then “holy crap is that a deer?!”
Gilbert started up his crazy laugh and hiked up the mounted deer head underneath his arm. “Sweet right? Found it at the Salvation Army this morning, gonna put this in the common area!”
“Er, okay,” Alfred drawled out. How could his friend be so cheerful in the morning anyway? He had a hangover from hell.
Gilbert scoffed. “There is nothing that is not awesome about this deer. You’re just a fuckin’ prissy-ass moron obsessed with proper ~design~ and ~use of space~, Alfredo.” He swung the deer head around to look it in the eye as he addressed it with the utmost seriousness. “They brainwash the little design fags until they can’t see truly inspiring design right in front of their noses, eh, deer?”
By now Alfred had burrowed back into the covers. “We need a better name for it. ‘nd I’m in architecture.”
“Psh, only technically. You design bus stops and shit. Coffee’s brewing, babe, get your ass up. Gonna go show Nils the new housemate - he’ll like it more than you anyway, he’s into mythology and goddamn harsh noise and blood and awesomeness. He’ll dig it.”
“I didn’t say it wasn’t rad! I’ve just got the worst headache of my life! And you gotta let me help you name it!”
“Yeah, fine, don’t get your fancy AA panties twisted. And come to breakfast, it’s already noon, lazy ass.”
---
Alfred made his way into the common area (still in his AA briefs, just as a nice “screw you” to Gil) with minimal incident, considering that the world spun with every step he took. Gilbert was perched on the broken-down sofa, juggling coffee, his cigarette, and the deer under his arm; Nils had temporarily abandoned his breakfast on the coffee table to put on a record -probably some kind of noise-drone thing.
“Nils,” Alfred whined, “don’t make it something harsh. Hangover.”
Nils glanced over at Alfred before a quiet inquiry of “Stars of the Lid?”
“No,” Gilbert cut in, “nothing happens, boringest shit ever.”
Nils made a noise of disapproval. Alfred suggested Can’s Future Days. “B-side?” Nils asked.
“Is that Bel Air?” A nod. “Fuck yeah! Ow, dude, my head.” Nils laughed at Alfred’s stupidity under his breath.
“Ya know, I don’t get it,” Gilbert started. Alfred groaned - not this again. “Nils, you like kickass noise and punk, blah, blah, blah, but then you listen to cutesy ambient crap.”
“What happened to your face, Alfred?” Nils asked instead, completely ignoring Gilbert.
“Yeah Al!” Apparently Gilbert’s curiosity was enough to ignore the brush-off. “You look like you got decked or something!”
---
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Roderich listened to his boss recommend a few dresses for the girl in the dressing room, and sat at the cashier’s desk, tapping his fingers to some half-remembered song.
He was bored. All of the new clothes had been unpacked and brought to the front of the store, he’d cleaned, there wasn’t anything to do until a new customer came in. Or Nils came in and he got off of work for the day.
Though he still had a tutoring session later - and was tonight that performance? He should check his calendar. He whipped out his phone to see, and then the door chimed.
“Hello,” he called from the back of the small space. Sound carried pretty well, what with the hardwood floors and minimal interior. He walked up to the front to greet the young woman who had come in. “Welcome to Ombre, have you been in? I’m Roderich.”
She seemed taken aback by his presence and he sighed internally. He was better at addressing men’s clothing needs; the women always seemed skittish around him.
“I’m actually here to see Francis?” she squeaked. “I think he said he was the owner?”
“Ah, er, yes,” Roderich replied. “He’s helping someone out now, but -”
“Hello dear,” Francis pranced over and into the conversation, “were you the one who was looking for the Alexander Wang last week?” Before she could do more than nod, Francis grabbed her by the arm and whisked her to the women’s side of the store, going on about the pieces he’d bought at the fall trunk shows this year, and there was some new A.P.C. and Vena Cava in...
Half an hour later the shop was empty but for the two of them. Roderich sighed. “I don’t get it. Women come into the shop and go straight to you. Women meet us at a gallery opening and go straight to you. You come to my performances and women go straight to you.”
Francis gave a light laugh. “You need something more distinguishing when you’re with the likes of me,” he winked at Roderich, who was so used to it by now it didn’t register. “You dress nicely, of course - I wouldn’t let you work here if you didn’t - that vest looks fantastic, by the way, navy suits you - but...you do lack a little...something, in your appearance...” Here Francis leaned back and scrutinized him like a painting he was trying to understand while Roderich tried not to fidget under his gaze.
“You should get glasses!” Francis exclaimed at last, clapping his hands.
“Glasses? But I don’t need glasses,” Roderich frowned.
“Ah, they would look so good on you, come here, let us find you some,” and Roderich was whisked to the computer to find some exemplary glasses online.
The door chimed and they both looked up, only to find Nils coming in for his shift.
“Nils, beautiful, come here and help Roderich and I pick out a pair of glasses. Don’t you think he would look fantastic with glasses?”
Nils shrugged. Francis draped himself over the smaller man’s shoulders. “You cannot say you have no opinion - I know you know style. Look at this,” he picked at Nils’ shirt, “it’s a simple t-shirt with some straps, but you carry it so well. And it matches the straps and buckles on your boots,” here his hand ran down Nils’ upper arm, “so...what do you think?” what breathed against the man’s ear.
Nils looked to Roderich and mumbled a “nothing too bulky.”
Francis sighed. “It’s like hitting on a brick wall,” he deadpanned over toward Roderich.
---
This was it. Matthew took a deep breath to steady himself. His dream girl, the girl he’d had a crush on for two years now, the girl who had started the University’s community gardens, and the Vegan and Vegetarian alliance, and the campaign for bike lanes on campus, and, and - Oh, God, everything about her was perfect - except she had only noticed him a grand total of two times. Once was when they were on a hike with the University’s Environmental Club and she’d asked him for water (he kept the canteen in his desk drawer, still unwashed), and the other was when she had almost run into him on her fixed gear.
He stood by the entrance to the fair-trade coffeeshop she worked at and admired her from the door. No one seemed to notice him, but he was used to that by now. When he was working in the local bike shop, no one really seemed to know he was there until he was right in front of them.
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He stood as authoritatively as he could in front of the counter; still, it was a few minutes before he was noticed.
“Oh, sorry about that! Guess I wasn’t paying attention.”
Matthew laughed a little. “That usually happens when I’m here - er, I mean, no one notices me, not, er, I mean you’re fine - I mean, the customer service is fine -” Oh God he was blushing terribly, he just knew it.
“...right. So...what would you like, sir?”
“Matthew,” he said.
“Huh?”
“I mean, my name’s Matthew.”
“Oh. Ah, yeah, my name’s Elizabeta.”
Matthew just barely refrained from saying “I know” immediately. She stood there waiting on his order and he stood there blushing, before she asked “So...you come here a lot then?”
“Erm, kinda,” was the reply. “Though, I’m not going to be around next semester...I’m studying abroad in Fr-”
“ELIZA!” drowned out whatever Matthew was going to say. Elizabeta’s attention was diverted to the fellow in ripped jeans, nose piercing, oddly chopped hair, and large eyebrows marching toward the counter.
“Arthur!” she chirped. “Glad to see you’re alive - when I left the show you could barely stand.”
Matthew was forgotten in the banter between the two friends.
---
“Antonio,” Francis murmured as he grabbed the strap to the other man’s tank top, “why do you have to wear such atrocious things? You would look so nice in a button-up.”
Antonio just laughed as Francis sat down on the couch and threw an arm around his shoulders. “This is comfortable. I don’t need to look fancy.”
Francis let the arm around the shoulders pick at the strap again, while his other began pushing up the fabric covering Antonio’s stomach. “But it’s so nice when you do look, as you put it, fancy.” Antonio just hummed, so Francis continued. “And I am the owner of Ombre, it wouldn’t be hard to give you a discount...”
At this Antonio laughed cheerfully. “I work for a CSA! I don’t need to look nice at all!”
Francis let his hand ride up underneath the shirt and leaned in to nuzzle Antonio’s neck, placing a soft trail of kisses down it. “Regardless, I don’t want to see you in this any longer.”
Antonio gasped and then let out a breathy “Oh. Okay.”
---
God damn. Why did I never realize how incredibly hot France and Spain are when you put them together? I was gonna make Francis and Antonio swingery folk, but I might just have to make them both be in an open relationship, or something. We’ll see. Anyway, for September we’ve got a bunch of people coming back into town for school! Except for Canada. He’s vanishing for a while. Oh and if anyone’s curious about ages, for the most part they’re the cannon ones if they exist (Iceland just turned 18 here, Canada is 20, Prussia and Norway are 21, Hungary is 22, Austria is 23)
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SleepyFAIL. Which means there are probably one billion more typos I didn't catch.
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AUTHOR ANON I LOVE YOU I AM SO EXCITED FOR WHAT'S TO COME.
ugh this looks to be shaping up into something brilliant and hilarious, I smiled through the entire thing < 3
AND YES MULTIPLE FILLS ARE TOTALLY ENCOURAGED BY ME TOO
"God damn. Why did I never realize how incredibly hot France and Spain are when you put them together?"
MY OTP THX. Spread the word lolol, this pairing is completely underrated imo
I'll leave a proper review when I am actually coherent, until then, ahhhhh < 3333
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I WANT A MOVIE OF THIS NOW
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________
||||||||
This fill has now an ironic beard.
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Also: YOU GUYS ROCK SO HARD <3<3<3<3 /HEARTSPAM I wish I could reply to everyone but there’s that whole “taking up comment space” issue so just lemme say THANKS FOR BEING AWESOME :D
Also also: To the anon who wanted to see the fem versions of characters - workin’ on it! Fem!Romano’s about halfway done - anyone in particular you want to see? Fem!Netherlands is up in the Halloween sketch dump btw.
Nils being Nils: http://i53.tinypic.com/120pcwn.jpg
Imagine he’s wearing shades of black, gray, and charcoal.
Feliks on NYE: http://i53.tinypic.com/2vrspco.jpg
I sorta forgot his bag of vodka and cranberry juice. Whoops.
Sadiq and his crazy attire/piercings: http://i56.tinypic.com/2aaljbb.jpg
It’s kind of impossible to find official art of his face. So, er, whatever.
Roderich lookin’ cute: http://i52.tinypic.com/uwsh3.jpg
I drew him in a tiny corner of my sketchbook which sucks because I really want to draw his shoes. They are classy. Black pointed-toe oxfords, yo.
BERWALD: http://i54.tinypic.com/3477m9j.jpg
Guess who shaves. *drools* Ugh Sweden is so sexy.
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I'm pretty surprised I haven't already done that, actually.
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And Roderich would so wear oxfords. I can't imagine him in Anything else.
dammit now i want to give you fan art of the Au... wold that be cool with you?
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/incoherent flails
/incoherent everything
/generally incoherent
<3
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oh yeah i saw fem!netherlands, she's hot~*~
tina would be cool! o:
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Tina, 20, is genderswapped!Finland; Jens, 28, is Germania; Mathias , 25, is Denmark; Alonzo, 30 is Rome. Pretty much because that name rules.
---
SEPTEMBER
---
Alfred hurriedly swallowed his mouthful of hummus as he heard the phone pick up. “Hey Ludwig, you’re back in town right? The moped’s not workin’. Wanna help me fix it?”
His pal sighed over the phone, but Alfred could hear the smile in his reply. “And I assume I need to bring my metric toolkit over?”
“You got it bro!”
---
Alfred and Ludwig had grabbed some bottles of High Life and had set up camp on the meager back patio of Alfred’s apartment. Alfred fished around for his extra spark plug. “I can’t figure out what’s wrong with it this time - lucky I’ve got one of you industrial design fellas as a pal,” he winked over.
Ludwig blushed and shot a shy smile (well, more like a twitch of the lips) at Alfred.
Alfred just laughed. “On top of that, I’d never have gotten through Calc III without you and Feliks!”
Ludwig resisted the urge to play with the wrench in his hands. “It would help if you would actually do your homework without us making you,” he replied with a trace of irritation in his voice.
“Yeah, yeah, but it’s so hard when there’s so much going on! I mean, between band practice, and going to shows - “
“-and trying to pick up girls at bars,” was grumbled under Ludwig’s breath.
“And - huh?”
Ludwig blushed again, caught. He took a swig of beer to cover it up and made a noncommittal noise.
“Well, anyway, you takin’ that Bauhaus course this fall? They only offer it every three years or something.”
“Mm, yes, there’s an industrial design component. Not to mention the movement had considerable impact on modern design and architecture. It would be foolish not to.”
“Plus it’s German, you’re a sucker for your heritage dude. So glad you’ve somehow managed to avoid meeting Gilbert - I mean, we’re BFF’s so don’t ask me how that works - you two would start up an Oktoberfest or - hey, you don’t think the fuel tank needs to be flushed, do you? Looks okay to me.”
Ludwig tried to simultaneously lean over Alfred and avoid touching him to look in. “Looks fine.” He handed the flashlight back to Alfred and had a mini-heart-attack when their hands brushed.
“Yeah thought so. Alrighty, mister spark plug, let’s see if you’re our problem.” He looked over to Ludwig and shot a megawatt grin. “Hey, you know Ludwig. We should totally team up for a project in that class! I can do the building stuff and you can do, you know, furniture design or the engineering or whatever - it’ll totally be like we are students in the middle one - “
“Dessau.”
“- yeah, that one - “
Alfred rambled on about how cool it would be to be students in 1920s Germany, and Ludwig took the time to appreciate the lean, strong lines of Alfred’s back as he stretched to reach the front of the engine.
---
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Francis sat the new glasses on Roderich’s face. They both turned to the floor-length mirror appraisingly.
“You’re right,” Roderich hummed. “I do look better in glasses.”
“Of course - the navy gradient is a good choice. You wear so much navy.”
“Black is too dreary,” Roderich sighed. “But I’d still like to dress with class.”
“Navy is perfect, then,” Francis agreed. “Though you should lighten it up somewhat. A differently colored tie?”
“No,” Roderich snapped. “It looks sleek like this. Sophisticated.” He crossed his arms and tilted his chin up in what he hoped was an affected yet defiant look.
“Consider a pocket square then.”
The door chimed and a young woman with her blond hair twisted back in an elegantly disheveled french braid and bright green eyes walked in, meekly. Francis elbowed Roderich to take care of it.
He stepped lightly over with an introduction and asked if she was looking for something in particular.
“Uh, no, not exactly. I was just looking online at Yelp reviews, and they said that this store carried Acne?”
“We do,” Roderich said, “it’s over - “
“Oh no, I’m not exactly looking for Acne...I just thought that, you know, if you had a brand I liked then it would probably be worth checking out.”
Roderich cleared his throat and adjusted his watch a bit awkwardly. The girl looked up at him with those bright green eyes. She was pretty cute. He held out his hand. “I’m Roderich - feel free to look around, just call if you have need of me.”
She let out a dainty laugh and placed her small hand in his. He hoped his hand wasn’t sweaty, how unappealing. “Mine’s Lili.” She gave a small curtsey and skipped over to the women’s side.
“She’s a cute little thing, non?” was murmured just under Roderich’s ear.
He jumped and Francis’ jaw clacked shut against his shoulder. “Francis!” he hissed.
Francis rubbed his jaw, glared at Roderich, then sashayed over to the girl, calling out “Here, let me take those to the fitting room for you - I have to step out to run a small errand, so ask Roderich for any opinions, dear. He has a good eye for beauty.”
Roderich was going to strangle Francis, boss or not.
---
“What do you think of this one?” Lili emerged in a 50’s-esque black chiffon polka dot dress. It was both hot and utterly adorable - it nipped in to show off her tiny waist but draped loosely everywhere else.
Oh dear. Roderich cursed his body for reacting like a teenager’s. A teenager’s! The impropriety!
“I-It’s nice,” he stammered out. “But, ah, I think there’s another dress out here you would like, if you like this one. Should I fetch it for you?”
“Sure!”
He couldn’t decide if he was perverted or if this was how all decent salespeople felt. He did know that she would look wonderful in the dress he had in mind, though. Tasteful, feminine, a soft pink hue that would complement her lips and cheeks - she’d look ready to take to the orchestra. Or dancing. Or dancing with an orchestra. Now there was an idea.
---
Roderich didn’t need Francis sighing at him; he already knew he was a coward for not asking Lili to an orchestra/dance/anything at all. He just totally lost his nerve (and his voice) after seeing her in that dress. Oh, and here was Nils. Great, the two of them could both make fun of him.
Nils stopped in front of them and Francis and he had a silent war. Francis insisted that Nils was too quiet and that to remain employed he had to at least muster a greeting and a small bit of conversation. “Heya, trust funders,” Nils finally said.
Francis squawked, indignant, and Roderich tried not to laugh at the snarky kid. “A trust-funder, he says!” He turned to Roderich to share his outrage.
Nils smirked. “Are you denying it?”
“I will have you know,” Francis pointed menacingly to Nils, “that I make my own money now, if you couldn’t tell,” he gestured around the store. “That fund just sits there now! Though it is reassuring to have,” he muttered under his breath.
Roderich shrugged. Nils knew he worked part-time here and spent the rest of his time tutoring music students. “I don’t spend mine on anything but rent,” he pointed out.
“Because you spend all the money you make here on clothes,” Nils shot back. “But then you bring in Ramen for lunch. Gotta keep up appearances I guess.”
---
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Austria’s glasses are like these, but with a navy gradient instead (remove the spaces!):
http:// www.framesdirect.com/ framesfp/ Burberry-tdoiqj/r.html
---
Francis was draped over Nils’ shoulder at the desk. “Would you stop that?” Nils said for what he thought was the seven-thousandth time.
Francis played with his hair. “This?”
“Yes. You’re not allowed to do that, you know. Ever heard of harassment?”
Francis pouted. “I think you must be asexual. I’ve never seen you express interest in anyone at all, dear, and you’ve worked here nearly six months.”
Nils just grunted and continued reading his music blogs.
“I’m serious. Tell me, have you ever dated anyone?”
Nils sighed and rolled his eyes. Why was his boss so fucking nosey? He knew this would keep going until he said something, so he guessed he should just answer the guy. “Yes.”
“Oh, really!” Francis sounded delighted. “I was not kidding about thinking you asexual, you know. Girls or guys?”
A jagged frown contorted Nils’ face. “Both. Nothing serious. I like skinny androgynous people. Which you aren’t. And because you seem to forget, you’re my boss. That’s all I’m saying so stop bothering me.”
---
Alfred held up a blue pair of boxer briefs and a red pair of American Apparel briefs. “Dude, you’re gonna have to tell me about Poland, but later. I can’t figure out what to wear. I don’t wanna be too gay, but I mean, I guess it is Rocky Horror.
“I don’t see why you don’t just, you know, embrace the gay. You’re going to Rocky Horror with a man in, like, gold hotpants,” Feliks snapped.
Alfred sighed. “Because I’m not gay, maybe? But Feliks! Gimme an opinion! Boxer briefs or just briefs? ‘Cuz I think I’m gonna wear this really crazy cardigan - it’s got a lot of maroon and a lot of blue, too - actually here, lemme get it -”
Alfred’s upper half dived into his closet, though Feliks just called that entire half of the room his ‘closet’. He continued adding glitter to his face. “So where did your housemates go?”
“Some noise show,” Alfred’s muffled voice floated from the depths of the closet. “Little asian dude with grindy sounds and delay pedals - at Arthur and Eliza’s place.”
Feliks sniffed. Place is too nice of a word for where they lived, in his opinion. “Is it at least, you know, not totally gross now with Eliza there?”
“Yeah actually, it’s pretty clean for an anarchist-communist-squatter-freegan-whatever household, now.”
Feliks raised an eyebrow. “Anarchist-communist?” he repeated.
Alfred popped out the closet, a thin, insanely patterned cardigan in hand. He shrugged. “How should I know? I don’t care.”
Feliks looked over Alfred. “Okay, go with the briefs, they match the cardigan better. And maybe some boots-”
“-too gay-”
“-or, like, your white hi-tops-”
“Feliks, you’re a genius!”
“-and then, I dunno, a headband?”
Alfred dashed to the bathroom to change and returned a few moments later with headbands in hand. “Yeah, Feliks, I’m not feeling this,” he said once the headbands were on.
Feliks looked over and snorted. “You look like a total high-schooler with those.”
“Ugh,” Alfred ripped them off - they sailed across the room. He went over to a table scattered with records, flyers, and old cans of Mountain Dew and beer, picked up a few necklaces, and slung them over his head instead.
“Um, are those bullets strung on those?” Feliks asked incredulously.
Alfred laughed. “Yeah, this one,” he lifted a mid-length one with a small silver chain, “has a shotgun shell though.”
“Where did they come from?”
“Went thrifting with Gil last winter and found two of ‘em - man, we had a huge fight over who got to keep ‘em, too, sometimes he swipes them from me still -”
“Alfred,” Feliks prompted.
“Oh yeah! And then Ludwig sent me some over the summer for my birthday. What a cool birthday present, right?”
Feliks let out a laugh at that. “I totally think he has, like, a huge crush on you,” he said.
“Nah dude. You know he’s an industrial design guy - he said he was already doing some metalworks stuff anyway and thought it’d be a good gift, ya know?”
A snort, followed by “Can I, like, put some glitter on you? It would look totally amazing near your temples with those glasses.”
---
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