Hetalia kink meme part 22
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hetalia kink meme
part 22
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When Antonio laid his eyes upon that red carpet, a graveyard for fallen sequins and half-chewed candy, he knew that he was home.
He, King of Pageant Fathers, the great aspiration for all men up to their elbows in debt and dazzle debris, was being heralded by the familiar choir of squawking children and whispers of the wide-eyed parents. For though he was amongst the greatest, he was certainly the most humble, and in his boundless humility he would say nothing of the hushed “why, that’s Antonio! Heard his little girl’s been sweeping these things since she was fresh out of the womb. Second the umbilical cord was snapped, they say, she was whisked on down and took Most Bodacious Baby without a struggle!”
“Bull dookie!” The second mother cried, and her companion instantly slapped her hands over her daughter’s ears. “Look at her. Got five and a half chins, I’m tellin’ ya.”
The old Antonio, the Antonio that existed before six crowns, four sashes, a most gorgeous feather boa and gold WORK IT! plaque would have marched right over and knocked out every yellow tooth in that hag’s gnarled mouth. If pageantry had taught the man one thing- besides the fact that fastening solid gold onto the soles of shoes before unleashing the child on a wooden stage was never a wise idea, poor Feli- it was that one could never achieve outer beauty without a little inside makeover. And hitting people certainly wasn’t pretty. So steadying the little girl in his arms, lifting his chin and turning up his eye-searing grin to maximum, breezed on over to unleash his inner beauty all over that fucking bitch’s face.
“Hello, there!” he exclaimed beatifically. “I’m Antonio, and this is Lovina. What a girl you have there!”
The woman, a bit shocked at his gall, lifted her chin in response. “Why, yes. Well, my little Loosey Skydiamond wins ‘Best Head for Hats’ every year.”
Antonio chortled. “What a cutie. Just sucked the glam right outta you, didn’t she! I suppose you may have heard of us. Lovi’s won a few things in her time, but she’s still just starting out. We’ll see how she does in a few years, right honey?”
Lovina simply drooled in response.
“We’ll be off now, I’ve got a friend to meet. Adios!” And with a jaunty nod and turn of his heel, Antonio strode up to their suite with a poise and grace only affiliated with The King of Pageantry.
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In his day, when he had donned that golden wig and studded blue platforms, when he had been La Francoise, child pageants were of a higher order. Not every cross-eyed hick in the county was allowed to pluck up their sullied urchins, souls dead and mummified in yards of pink tulle, and present them as the shining hope of the future. When they had said they wished for love amongst all and the sanctities of world peace, they had said it in utmost certainty. It wasn’t some standard cue-card drill, it was a display that being fashionable and functional were not mutually exclusive, that a babe fresh from motherly loins was capable of holding their own in a billiards match and appreciating the bouquet of fine Chianti.
And all that was his reality, before that tragic day that his skirt was uplifted and the title of “la” came only to preface “laughing stock”. But Francis dare not think that now, only clapping a hand over his tearing eyes and casting a look to his beloved Mathilde.
Mathilde, a girl with so much light and potential, rescued from her barbaric family one snowy Christmas morn. A bit too kind-hearted, the other mothers said. Showed her belly too much, and not in the right way. In the way that she was just begging to be stabbed right there, right where her bleeding heart lay. But to Francis, she was a beacon in the squalor and mange that had become modern child pageants. She wouldn’t dare kick a stool from below her competition’s feet, knowing that it all took a winning smile and practiced curtsy to become queen and not cherry bombs slipped below doorframes. She would campaign for world peace and mean it; she would spend her prize money on benefitting the less attractive and not false teeth or credit card debt; she would save the world the ruination the waves of Bump-its and glitter were drowning it in.
All she had to do was win.
Francis’ silken train of thought was interrupted by the cry of a Spaniard, as it so often was.
“Antonio.” He nodded. The man’s face was slightly reddened- he had yet to understand that the elevator at the Ritzy Glitzy Hotel had been repaired twelve years ago, always insisting on rocketing up the steps with his little treasure in tow. Lovina herself was still out, curled into her father’s neck with her mouth slack and head lolling dangerously. Though as much Francis wouldn’t like for the poor child to experience a broken neck (or, even more dreadful, what had happened to little Feli at the Dawg Stars of Tomorrow Pageant), she was the biggest contender they had and it was very difficult to wear necklaces well on a snapped neck.
“How have you been, friend?”
“I’ve been well. Lots of work, preparing for these.”
“I see. Where is Mattie?”
“She’s…merde. “
“I’m right here, Papa.”
“Why, Mathilde! What on Earth are you doing inside that potted plant, it’ll mess up your hair terribly and I didn’t bring the straightening iron!”
“You put me here and I thought I was supposed to stand here. For the pageant.“
“Well, merde!” Francis wailed, plucking the terribly dim light of his heart out of the soil. “Well, we’ll have to fix that, won’t we? Because not to offend you, ma choupinette, but your hair is now the fifth horseman of the apocalypse. What do you suggest we do?”
Antonio, wanting to help his dear friend, offered “I saw a waffle iron in the kitchen.”
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Lovina will awaken?”
“This usually takes about six hours to wear off, so I’ll say-
“Antonio maneuvered the child to check his wristwatch. “About a half hour.”
“I do wish you would use pills rather than needles, it’s such a waste of concealer.” Francis gestured to the raised bump in the center of Lovina’s arm. “Look at that! It’s unsightly!
“Oh, that’s nothing. Now, let’s get her dressed before she awakens. It’s won’t be like the ‘Down the Glitter!” pageant, not this time.”
Fools
He poised the lit cigarette directly in front of his lips, mesmerized by the curling of the smoke escaping the end. His eyes watched the grey figures form before him, illuminated in the garish lighting of the Ritzy Glitzy fluorescents, and contort towards each other, as though sharing secrets and plots, before extending towards the ceiling- no doubt screeching at the pain of being stretched beyond their limits. He imagined that, the way the bones would crack as the ribs parted ways and the arm joints gave to their eventual fate. It sounded like the snaps of a plastic crown in the hands of a bitter mother, the clacks of heels on the floodlit stage. The more stubborn the victim, the more they clenched and flexed and screamed, the louder they’d crack.
And these fools, these toxic fools, these self-proclaimed Lords of Pageants and Keepers of Crowns would be sure to make a very loud snap.
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I SHOULD NOT BE WRITING THIS DAMMIT
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I did not now how much I needed this in my life until just now. This may be the funniest thing I have ever read, anon.
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HAVE NEVER LAUGHED SO HARD EVER. EVER. PLEASE JESUS YOU MUST CONTINUE. MY GOD.
I genuinely might send this story to people who aren't fans of Hetalia, it works so well as it's own universe.
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Author!Anon, I need this in my life. I honestly don't think I've ever laughed so hard at a fanfiction. I'm quite literally standing in my kitchen cracking up at, at, all this GOLD that is your fill.
"And hitting people certainly wasn’t pretty. So steadying the little girl in his arms, lifting his chin and turning up his eye-searing grin to maximum, breezed on over to unleash his inner beauty all over that fucking bitch’s face."
This right here? THIS RIGHT HERE? Please don't ever stop, don't ever stop.
"And all that was his reality, before that tragic day that his skirt was uplifted and the title of “la” came only to preface “laughing stock”. But Francis dare not think that now, only clapping a hand over his tearing eyes and casting a look to his beloved Mathilde.
I was keeping it together pretty well, but at this part I just lost it completely, and now I can't stop.
WHAT ARE YOU SAYING, A!A? YOU WERE BORN TO WRITE THIS.
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