Nations in space 2.9/?
anonymous
April 19 2009, 12:19:45 UTC
The whole house shook, and Germany felt several painful blisters appear on his leg when the lovely garden and parts of the field behind it where scorched to ash. Goddamn thoughtless Gilbert anyway, it wasn’t as if they didn’t have a perfectly functional spaceport!
“Does it burn much, Germany?” Italy asked as the noise and shaking stopped.
“Hardly anything,” Ludwig lied, “he must have upgraded his engines again.”
The two nations lead their nervous people upstairs again. Gilbert really had upgraded his engines, Ludwig realized, the house didn’t even seem a little bit scorched. Maybe he finally listened when I tried to choke him for burning down a recreation centre the last visit?
All of them carefully went outside. Ludwig heard a dismayed moan from their host as he saw what had happened to his garden and Italy hugged the man comfortingly and said, “Remember, this is why we instigated the Brother-tax.”
Then they were both nearly tackled to the floor by the madly grinning pale-faced conqueror of planets, solar systems and entire species. “Feliciano! Bruderchen!”
“Ve!”
Ludwig gingerly patted his brother’s back; one eventful visit, Feliciano had set of a flame-thrower when he hugged Gilbert a bit too fondly.
“Hello, brother,” Ludwig said once he’d regained his breath and balance. “You look,” computerized, no, pointy, no, I’ll have to sleep on the couch if I almost set of a conflict again, “well. Is that a new arm I see?”
“Yep, is’ voll geil! Look!” Gilbert took a step back and sharply pumped his arm twice. The hand opened up like a (probably man-eating) flower and a gleaming sword emerged.
“You put a sword in your arm?”
“Oh, it can shoot antimatter bombs too,” Gilbert said with a shrug, “but this looks a lot cooler, doesn’t it?”
“A- an- antimatter bombs?”
“Pizza!” Italy dragged the two larger nations inside, with a strained grin on his face. “Ve, ve ve~ Come now, the pizza will get cold!”
The two Germanic brother’s willingly allowed themselves to be led. “So you’re moving away from yeast and algae?” Gilbert asked, and made his sword disappear again.
“Yes! We have wonderful grain nowadays! And big brother sent sprouts for a xenotomatoe, they’re really yummy. Er, though they are blue...”
“Cool. Mmmyeah, almost forgot! Ey, Old Fritz!”
“Mein Ritter?” The AI’s voice seemed to come from the blinking mini-computer on Gilbert’s head* and was, as usually when speaking to its nation, fondly indulgent.
“Where’d we put that little piece of fluff?”
“The chickenlike alien? The main shuttle is bringing it down at Astrohansa spaceport.”
“Have you found a new species?” Ludwig asked.
“It’s some fucking adorable bird-analogue,” Gilbert said, “I just know you guys are gonna love it!”
“Ah. What does it taste like?”
THWAP! When your brother’s hand is made from polymeric-ceramic/titanium alloys, even a light slap to the head is enough to create a sizeable lump and a near-concussion. Germany crashed to the floor, taking a yelping Italy with him.
“You’re not supposed to eat it, you barbarian! Es ist echt niedlich!”
“’m sorry,” Ludwig managed to get out, despite his aching head. “I forgot that the big bad space fleet is verknallt in fluffy little things.”
“Fuck yeah, bunnies are hardcore.”
*Do you really need to have that many blinking lights and tubes sticking out of your people everywhere, Germany had once asked his brother. Nah, but don’t they look awesome? was Gilbert’s fairly predictable answer.
“Does it burn much, Germany?” Italy asked as the noise and shaking stopped.
“Hardly anything,” Ludwig lied, “he must have upgraded his engines again.”
The two nations lead their nervous people upstairs again. Gilbert really had upgraded his engines, Ludwig realized, the house didn’t even seem a little bit scorched.
Maybe he finally listened when I tried to choke him for burning down a recreation centre the last visit?
All of them carefully went outside. Ludwig heard a dismayed moan from their host as he saw what had happened to his garden and Italy hugged the man comfortingly and said, “Remember, this is why we instigated the Brother-tax.”
Then they were both nearly tackled to the floor by the madly grinning pale-faced conqueror of planets, solar systems and entire species.
“Feliciano! Bruderchen!”
“Ve!”
Ludwig gingerly patted his brother’s back; one eventful visit, Feliciano had set of a flame-thrower when he hugged Gilbert a bit too fondly.
“Hello, brother,” Ludwig said once he’d regained his breath and balance. “You look,” computerized, no, pointy, no, I’ll have to sleep on the couch if I almost set of a conflict again, “well. Is that a new arm I see?”
“Yep, is’ voll geil! Look!” Gilbert took a step back and sharply pumped his arm twice. The hand opened up like a (probably man-eating) flower and a gleaming sword emerged.
“You put a sword in your arm?”
“Oh, it can shoot antimatter bombs too,” Gilbert said with a shrug, “but this looks a lot cooler, doesn’t it?”
“A- an- antimatter bombs?”
“Pizza!” Italy dragged the two larger nations inside, with a strained grin on his face. “Ve, ve ve~ Come now, the pizza will get cold!”
The two Germanic brother’s willingly allowed themselves to be led. “So you’re moving away from yeast and algae?” Gilbert asked, and made his sword disappear again.
“Yes! We have wonderful grain nowadays! And big brother sent sprouts for a xenotomatoe, they’re really yummy. Er, though they are blue...”
“Cool. Mmmyeah, almost forgot! Ey, Old Fritz!”
“Mein Ritter?” The AI’s voice seemed to come from the blinking mini-computer on Gilbert’s head* and was, as usually when speaking to its nation, fondly indulgent.
“Where’d we put that little piece of fluff?”
“The chickenlike alien? The main shuttle is bringing it down at Astrohansa spaceport.”
“Have you found a new species?” Ludwig asked.
“It’s some fucking adorable bird-analogue,” Gilbert said, “I just know you guys are gonna love it!”
“Ah. What does it taste like?”
THWAP!
When your brother’s hand is made from polymeric-ceramic/titanium alloys, even a light slap to the head is enough to create a sizeable lump and a near-concussion. Germany crashed to the floor, taking a yelping Italy with him.
“You’re not supposed to eat it, you barbarian! Es ist echt niedlich!”
“’m sorry,” Ludwig managed to get out, despite his aching head. “I forgot that the big bad space fleet is verknallt in fluffy little things.”
“Fuck yeah, bunnies are hardcore.”
*Do you really need to have that many blinking lights and tubes sticking out of your people everywhere, Germany had once asked his brother.
Nah, but don’t they look awesome? was Gilbert’s fairly predictable answer.
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