Re: China/N Korea/S Korea/shota!Canada Love of the Half Eaten Peach 11a/? (Canada)
anonymous
January 6 2011, 04:46:56 UTC
“There once was a noblewoman as rich as Liu Jin who, like him, believed that all that glittered was gold. One night she dreamt that she had given all her wealth to the gods and was given in turn a stairway to the heavens.”
He spreads his arm in a fantastic arc as if in the dream himself. He has to think quickly, filtering the words, know if he’s not careful they’ll know exactly what the hell he’s talking about. But hell, Canada couldn’t think of a faster story than to adapt the famous rock ballad and so help him he’s going to do this or die trying. “The golden stair stretched out in front of her and she ascended with all the grace of Zhao Ban and smiled brilliantly for she knew that the stars themselves were smiling upon her.” Canada walks slowly around as if mesmerized by a brilliant sight and he ignores the butterflies in his stomach as he goes on. “And when she reached the top of that great stair all of heaven bright and golden stretched out before her. And she found that she was denied nothing: her every heart’s desire.”
He watches them to make sure they’re watching him. They are. You can do this. You can show them you’re more than Al’s shadow. They underestimate you but you’ll get them. Invisible, he’s always been a chameleon. Canada has always been able to pass for whatever he tried to be. Tonight he’ll seduce them like a perfect innocent child turned red hot siren; they won’t even see it coming. “And even the signs around her read that this was truly the great kingdom of legend and that here she would eternally be granted that which was her deepest heart’s desire.” Canada smiles at the lot of them a rather coy and naughty expression as he continues. “Ah, but even that which is carved in stone can have two meanings...” Oh and they seem just a bit interested now but he’s only getting started.
“For even as she believes everything around her that her eyes behold there’s a songbird who calls to her from the other side of a dazzling stream to come near so that he may better sing her praises.” Canada shakes his head, and begins to slowly take of his socks and ah, now he sees their interest perking up far more. He’s done a sleazy strip club routine a few times at America’s insistence but this has to be more elegant and practiced and ensnare every last one of them so he can pull this off. And not for the first time in his existence he thanks god that his fellow nations don’t just see the body but his geography as well because he might be in young human form but there are so many hundreds of miles of unmolested wilderness and large tracts of land that any nation would be hard pressed to resist. And the youthful appearance only makes him seem that much more fresh and undeveloped and he can see it in their eyes and suddenly he isn’t quite so jealous of America’s much larger population: that slut.
“Barefoot, she wades through the stream, cautious of her fine silks and hairclips, the cold water lapping around her.” And he looks at them and god he knows it’ll give him away but they won’t be expecting it and he doesn’t want to mess this up. He knows his geography is beautiful and as the second largest landmass it’s vast and damn erotic and his job just isn’t as easy as America’s so screw it. “And yet when she stopped midway in the shallow clear water she looked to the west feeling lacking. And she could feel her spirit cry out for her leaving.” And as he talks he approaches the table and one hand is already on that ridiculous cravat undoing it slowly, his small fingers twining through the silky material as he deftly unties it and drops it onto the ground with a heavy look of those violet eyes as he continues to speak making sure that every last one of them watches as he describes the rings of smoke through the trees that force his protagonist to caress her throat feeling as if she cannot breathe and oh doesn’t it make you wonder, he asks.
Re: China/N Korea/S Korea/shota!Canada Love of the Half Eaten Peach 12a/? (Canada)
anonymous
January 6 2011, 04:48:03 UTC
And as he says that he lets his fingers trail down his throat and they can all three of them see those long digits, the great lakes joining America ghosting over the taiga, the permafrost and cool hollow of his throat and oh the expanse of open wilderness is alluring, isn’t it? “And the journey grows harder,” he makes sure to emphasize harder, he doesn’t give a damn how blatantly pornographic that sounds ‘cause when he catches North Korea’s eyes, he can see the isolated nation, so deprived of foreign relations eying him like an oasis in the desert and dammit if only it were he and not China that was the goal this would be- Well why not? he asks himself wildly. God knows what America would love to have from North Korea and it wouldn’t exactly be hard. All three of them, yes! He’s going for it. “The journey grows harder because she can hear the melody of the piper calling to her to cast off all her worldly entrapments and she just… can’t… resist.”
And right then he lowers his head, glancing at each of them in succession over the rims of Quebec as they watch his fingers unbutton that torn and scuffed shirt, slowly shrugging the fabric off one slender shoulder. He’s got North Korea and yet he can see China, stupid China as unreadable as ever from behind the raised teacup and South Korea as well looking curious as if he has in fact heard this story before but just can’t put his finger on it. But you’ve never heard it like this because it’s never been told like this and I know exactly what will distract the lot of you. And he turns, speaking of a new day dawning for her as she stands tall and he lets that shirt slip from both his shoulders and lets them glimpse his smooth unblemished back and the continuation of the Rockies, the Appalachians, the plains that are just as great as America’s in their own right and high populations might appeal to some nations but he can hear it as if it were the lot of them breathing heavily right into his ear because Canada has his scars but he can still keep them safely tucked away and look just as new and fresh as the day of his ascension.
“And she reaches it, that bird and reaches out to grab,” he looks over his shoulder and sees them watch him and he discreetly undoes the buttons of the short knickers where they can’t see, his left hand already raised as he reaching out. “A bustle in the hedgerow startles her as the great bird that her fingertips touch turns to fine grains of sand and flows down her arm.” He bows his head, using an old trick to see behind him through the light glinting off the thick non coated frames and they’re watching still, more intently and he whirls and snaps that hand up with a wide, wild smile, forcing the emotion of the song because it’s been playing in his mind the entire time and that guitar solo is approaching the melody and the tempo that he just loves.
And Canada turns, nearing them all, letting those damn knickers slip from his hips and he’s never been more thankful that America didn’t insist on the stupid underwear too because right now there’s nothing stopping them all from glimpsing Nova Scotia and Prince Edward Island as he steps out of the gray garments pooled on the floor. “There are two paths that we choose, yes?” And he bends over drawing the lines on the table, moving the tray and the tea and letting the magically generated parchment meld into the surface as he unrolls it in an ancient trick that England once taught him so other nations wouldn’t see that secret agreement. And he draws out the golden lines not letting them form to words, kneeling down so those islands are covered and both Atlantic and Pacific are reflected in his eyes. “But all paths intersect just as all crows under heaven are black.” And he dares that gamble and goes not for China but for that damn suspicious South Korea with a small, soft hand cupping the other’s face as he leans in.
Re: China/N Korea/S Korea/shota!Canada Love of the Half Eaten Peach 13a/? (Canada)
anonymous
January 6 2011, 04:49:31 UTC
He knows his singing voice is pretty lousy but hey, America did say once that anything sounds hot if you whisper it. Yeah, there’s a story in here somewhere but that song is just going through his head and he used to listen to it in his room on his beanbag chair with the lava lamp going and his special little cookies back in the seventies and oh the fun he and America had in both their houses back then. And Canada knows that if nothing else will get China’s attention, perhaps it will be to not pay him any at all. Canada can already see South Korea’s face completely fixated on him, hear North Korea whispering to the Supreme Leader to forgive him for taking part in such things and he sings whisper soft, “Your head is humming and it won’t go in case you don’t know…” And he doesn’t kiss him, he just swipes playfully, teasing at the other’s mouth while his right hand quick as a flash puts the words to the parchment. But ah, Canada’s smarter than they think because he’s already crawled onto the low table, his body shielding it, and he can feel the eyes only on him and South Korea in the center besides.
You wonder what my game is, Yao? You and the rest of the world might underestimate me, but I’m never to be taken lightly. Remember the last Winter Olypmics? You haven’t seen anything yet. “Can you hear the wind blow, Yong Soo?” Canada asks playfully and he watches as the other’s brown eyes go wide putting two and two together with an equally breathless whisper of “I do know that story…” and he doesn’t even care whether China has or not because China can’t see that parchment beneath him as he rolls over, laying on his back across the lacquered surface looking up at the lot of them with one knee drawn up, his hands trailing back down the fine strands falling around South Korea’s face and damn straight they’re watching him and he can feel the faint warmth and glow of the words beneath him and he takes China’s hand so damn easily! Yes! I’ve got you!
And China watches him, sees the faint golden glow surrounding his body even as his own amber eyes are fixated on the spread of the unmarred and youthful form on the table. He can tell that North and South Korea aren’t looking at anything but the expanse of raw uncharted territory and even the tundra stretching out greater and colder than anything they’ve ever seen is just so alluring to the smaller and older nations. But China knows. He knew from the moment Canada stepped up to the table exactly what it was the little sneak wanted and even as he lets his eyes lock with those brilliant violet ones and lets Canada lead his hand across the smooth skin of his stomach as those lips whisper at him to wind down the road he answers back showing he knows exactly what this is, “Our shadows taller than our soul.” Because there have been a lot of things banned in his country over the years but there are some things that transcend censorship even so and China knows now what story he’s telling and what game he’s playing and he leans over, the fall of black hair spilling over one shoulder letting that hand be led down down and then-
“How stupid do you think I am?” China’s voice is quiet as a slip of breath, so soft, so dangerous and Canada feels that arm go rigid as steel, feels ice in his own veins and can’t help the way his eyes widen in fear and apprehension as he feels the full weight of China’s strength as a nation bearing down on him. He feels as if he can’t breath and really he can’t even move and he can hear South Korea ask what’s going on and the only thing he sees is that ageless beautiful face bent over his own split with a smirk full of dark promise. Oh god… Canada’s stomach knots and dammit he really is trying to move but something about the way China’s eyes lock with him leave him paralyzed and suddenly deaf and he thinks he reads China’s lips ordering the other two because why else would he be rising off the table with two sets of hands lifting him? Oh god… Because China can read it now. China can read every word of the golden lettering imprinted to the table.
He spreads his arm in a fantastic arc as if in the dream himself. He has to think quickly, filtering the words, know if he’s not careful they’ll know exactly what the hell he’s talking about. But hell, Canada couldn’t think of a faster story than to adapt the famous rock ballad and so help him he’s going to do this or die trying. “The golden stair stretched out in front of her and she ascended with all the grace of Zhao Ban and smiled brilliantly for she knew that the stars themselves were smiling upon her.” Canada walks slowly around as if mesmerized by a brilliant sight and he ignores the butterflies in his stomach as he goes on. “And when she reached the top of that great stair all of heaven bright and golden stretched out before her. And she found that she was denied nothing: her every heart’s desire.”
He watches them to make sure they’re watching him. They are. You can do this. You can show them you’re more than Al’s shadow. They underestimate you but you’ll get them. Invisible, he’s always been a chameleon. Canada has always been able to pass for whatever he tried to be. Tonight he’ll seduce them like a perfect innocent child turned red hot siren; they won’t even see it coming.
“And even the signs around her read that this was truly the great kingdom of legend and that here she would eternally be granted that which was her deepest heart’s desire.” Canada smiles at the lot of them a rather coy and naughty expression as he continues. “Ah, but even that which is carved in stone can have two meanings...” Oh and they seem just a bit interested now but he’s only getting started.
“For even as she believes everything around her that her eyes behold there’s a songbird who calls to her from the other side of a dazzling stream to come near so that he may better sing her praises.” Canada shakes his head, and begins to slowly take of his socks and ah, now he sees their interest perking up far more. He’s done a sleazy strip club routine a few times at America’s insistence but this has to be more elegant and practiced and ensnare every last one of them so he can pull this off. And not for the first time in his existence he thanks god that his fellow nations don’t just see the body but his geography as well because he might be in young human form but there are so many hundreds of miles of unmolested wilderness and large tracts of land that any nation would be hard pressed to resist. And the youthful appearance only makes him seem that much more fresh and undeveloped and he can see it in their eyes and suddenly he isn’t quite so jealous of America’s much larger population: that slut.
“Barefoot, she wades through the stream, cautious of her fine silks and hairclips, the cold water lapping around her.” And he looks at them and god he knows it’ll give him away but they won’t be expecting it and he doesn’t want to mess this up. He knows his geography is beautiful and as the second largest landmass it’s vast and damn erotic and his job just isn’t as easy as America’s so screw it. “And yet when she stopped midway in the shallow clear water she looked to the west feeling lacking. And she could feel her spirit cry out for her leaving.” And as he talks he approaches the table and one hand is already on that ridiculous cravat undoing it slowly, his small fingers twining through the silky material as he deftly unties it and drops it onto the ground with a heavy look of those violet eyes as he continues to speak making sure that every last one of them watches as he describes the rings of smoke through the trees that force his protagonist to caress her throat feeling as if she cannot breathe and oh doesn’t it make you wonder, he asks.
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“And the journey grows harder,” he makes sure to emphasize harder, he doesn’t give a damn how blatantly pornographic that sounds ‘cause when he catches North Korea’s eyes, he can see the isolated nation, so deprived of foreign relations eying him like an oasis in the desert and dammit if only it were he and not China that was the goal this would be- Well why not? he asks himself wildly. God knows what America would love to have from North Korea and it wouldn’t exactly be hard. All three of them, yes! He’s going for it. “The journey grows harder because she can hear the melody of the piper calling to her to cast off all her worldly entrapments and she just… can’t… resist.”
And right then he lowers his head, glancing at each of them in succession over the rims of Quebec as they watch his fingers unbutton that torn and scuffed shirt, slowly shrugging the fabric off one slender shoulder. He’s got North Korea and yet he can see China, stupid China as unreadable as ever from behind the raised teacup and South Korea as well looking curious as if he has in fact heard this story before but just can’t put his finger on it. But you’ve never heard it like this because it’s never been told like this and I know exactly what will distract the lot of you. And he turns, speaking of a new day dawning for her as she stands tall and he lets that shirt slip from both his shoulders and lets them glimpse his smooth unblemished back and the continuation of the Rockies, the Appalachians, the plains that are just as great as America’s in their own right and high populations might appeal to some nations but he can hear it as if it were the lot of them breathing heavily right into his ear because Canada has his scars but he can still keep them safely tucked away and look just as new and fresh as the day of his ascension.
“And she reaches it, that bird and reaches out to grab,” he looks over his shoulder and sees them watch him and he discreetly undoes the buttons of the short knickers where they can’t see, his left hand already raised as he reaching out. “A bustle in the hedgerow startles her as the great bird that her fingertips touch turns to fine grains of sand and flows down her arm.” He bows his head, using an old trick to see behind him through the light glinting off the thick non coated frames and they’re watching still, more intently and he whirls and snaps that hand up with a wide, wild smile, forcing the emotion of the song because it’s been playing in his mind the entire time and that guitar solo is approaching the melody and the tempo that he just loves.
And Canada turns, nearing them all, letting those damn knickers slip from his hips and he’s never been more thankful that America didn’t insist on the stupid underwear too because right now there’s nothing stopping them all from glimpsing Nova Scotia and Prince Edward Island as he steps out of the gray garments pooled on the floor.
“There are two paths that we choose, yes?” And he bends over drawing the lines on the table, moving the tray and the tea and letting the magically generated parchment meld into the surface as he unrolls it in an ancient trick that England once taught him so other nations wouldn’t see that secret agreement. And he draws out the golden lines not letting them form to words, kneeling down so those islands are covered and both Atlantic and Pacific are reflected in his eyes. “But all paths intersect just as all crows under heaven are black.” And he dares that gamble and goes not for China but for that damn suspicious South Korea with a small, soft hand cupping the other’s face as he leans in.
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You wonder what my game is, Yao? You and the rest of the world might underestimate me, but I’m never to be taken lightly. Remember the last Winter Olypmics? You haven’t seen anything yet.
“Can you hear the wind blow, Yong Soo?” Canada asks playfully and he watches as the other’s brown eyes go wide putting two and two together with an equally breathless whisper of
“I do know that story…” and he doesn’t even care whether China has or not because China can’t see that parchment beneath him as he rolls over, laying on his back across the lacquered surface looking up at the lot of them with one knee drawn up, his hands trailing back down the fine strands falling around South Korea’s face and damn straight they’re watching him and he can feel the faint warmth and glow of the words beneath him and he takes China’s hand so damn easily! Yes! I’ve got you!
And China watches him, sees the faint golden glow surrounding his body even as his own amber eyes are fixated on the spread of the unmarred and youthful form on the table. He can tell that North and South Korea aren’t looking at anything but the expanse of raw uncharted territory and even the tundra stretching out greater and colder than anything they’ve ever seen is just so alluring to the smaller and older nations. But China knows. He knew from the moment Canada stepped up to the table exactly what it was the little sneak wanted and even as he lets his eyes lock with those brilliant violet ones and lets Canada lead his hand across the smooth skin of his stomach as those lips whisper at him to wind down the road he answers back showing he knows exactly what this is,
“Our shadows taller than our soul.” Because there have been a lot of things banned in his country over the years but there are some things that transcend censorship even so and China knows now what story he’s telling and what game he’s playing and he leans over, the fall of black hair spilling over one shoulder letting that hand be led down down and then-
“How stupid do you think I am?” China’s voice is quiet as a slip of breath, so soft, so dangerous and Canada feels that arm go rigid as steel, feels ice in his own veins and can’t help the way his eyes widen in fear and apprehension as he feels the full weight of China’s strength as a nation bearing down on him. He feels as if he can’t breath and really he can’t even move and he can hear South Korea ask what’s going on and the only thing he sees is that ageless beautiful face bent over his own split with a smirk full of dark promise. Oh god… Canada’s stomach knots and dammit he really is trying to move but something about the way China’s eyes lock with him leave him paralyzed and suddenly deaf and he thinks he reads China’s lips ordering the other two because why else would he be rising off the table with two sets of hands lifting him? Oh god… Because China can read it now. China can read every word of the golden lettering imprinted to the table.
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