It's the middle of the morning; Arthur lies in bed, still, watching the ever-moving ceiling (honestly, it's not moving, but Arthur is convinced it is; swirling, he will say.) with a panging against his head. Damn it, he knew he shouldn't have drank last night...
He can't help it though. Another day, another failed spell of love. Now, he'll never say it, but he's got quite the attachment towards Alfred. Arthur is past wondering if it is simply fatherly or brotherly love, or maybe he's really in love with Alfred. Either way, he loves Alfred, and hates seeing him talking to someone else. He'd never say that either.
Which is where all this began. Love potion, love spell, anything that will make Alfred fall in love with him; Arthur passes it as curiosity. Says he wants to know what kind of lover Alfred would make, that's all. So in secret, he'd look through his magic books at night when he's alone, look for anything with a good recipe. He wants one that works for a controlled period of time.
Eventually, he finds one; he remembers it says that it will work for any amount of time the caster wants. They just have to make sure to give the amount of time within the time of casting. It works the next time you meet, they say.
As expected, it ends in smoke and a complete mess, and Arthur says that it must have been a faulty, old piece of magic which has been disabled (in other words, locked beyond use.) by the fairies and other magical beings out there, for the uses it may have. Arthur can't blame them; you could force someone to love you and cause chaos in the world.
None the less, he drinks that night to wash down the hope which flicked when his magic failed. He barely remembers much; just smoke, a lot of it, some incantations of words he can't remember, and then the wine.
Arthur sighs; he has not the time for this. There is paperwork lying on his desk, just calling for him. Further more, another World Meeting, next week. He has to prep his papers and get ready for that too, so he stands and stretches his limbs.
“Something feels off... It must be the wine.” Arthur asks, and draws his own conclusion and walks out of his room, stretching his stiff arms as he does and goes to the bathroom. He grabs the tooth paste and pours it onto his tooth brush, and begins brushing his teeth. In a bit of a daze, he doesn't notice what's so off about him.
So he spits out the tooth paste and rinses his mouth. With a good washing on his face too, he looks at the mirror, and; “WHO THE HELL ARE YOU!? PETER!?” Arthur shouts, and with a turn, he sees no one, but the wall. He cautiously turns to the reflection in the mirror.
“This is illogical.” Is all he says, before he's running to his living room, and rips the photo album out of the shelf. Please let this be some mishap, please, please, please, but he is not granted victory (and the idea that last night's wine was rotten.) when he compares a picture of his time when he appears 18 years old to how he looks now.
[A/N: MY INNER SHOTA WOULDN'T LET ME GO UNTIL I WROTE IT. ;AAAA; ]
Re: Magic at Work [2/?]
anonymous
May 7 2009, 21:27:56 UTC
He is in the basement with the book in his hand, reading the pages which guided him through his incantation; where, where did he go wrong?! Wine, did not, by any means, turn Arthur 18 years old, and he's a nation and knows its logically impossible for him to just turn 18 (Nations can age depending on the speed of their nation's growth, but they do not turn younger if their nation is weakening, Arthur is very sure) without anything to stimulate it.
Arthur comes across an image of the spell circle; he looks at it closely, and is positive he drew the circle with perfect precision too...
Until he sees one letter. A letter from ancient Europe in a language Arthur does not know, nor cares for, and he wants to kick himself so badly. It was one stroke; one stroke on the on the wrong side. He wrote it on the wrong side, the wrong side.
“For the love of God! One bloody mistake turned this whole situation into a mess!?” Arthur asks himself, and his voice resounds into the depths of his basement.
The book falls against the floor, and Arthur stomps upstairs. The nation- now a young man- finds himself in front of the mirror, looking at his reflection in his bedroom. He cringes at the sight of it; not only is he younger, he is visibly smaller, by... whom say, he is now 5'5; shrunk 4 feet in an estimate. His face has lost the adultery it once had, and was replaced with the face of a growing youth, even younger appearing then Alfred. Then again, everyone always notes that Arthur looks a bit younger for the acclaimed 23 year old he was.
“Fuck.” He mutters and touches the reflection... and then it hits him; World Meeting. World Meeting. Oh GOD. What was he going to do!? He paces around the room back and forth; he can't just go. For all he knows, they might not recognize him (how they won't is beyond him. His eyebrows are unmistakable.) and if they do; fuck, he's never going to live it down. Especially Francis, that bastard will bother him about it forever.
Government, he is less concerned about. Now, everyone has been plied with paperwork and the paperwork is something he prefers to take care of in the confines of his home, so the paperwork lies in his house. As for visiting officials, well, a call should be enough for now.
Arthur refuses, by any means, to leave his house. He can't exactly stay in it forever though. If he hides in there, people will question it, no? There is almost nowhere to run though... Though, he doesn't deny that he sort of fears his own house too. If he stays, but does not leave, someone from the government will probably come to get him, and he is not coming out like this. It'll be even worse if a fellow nation comes to the aid instead, and that's even more likely.
He has to find someone willing to let him hide over at their house for a bit... But Arthur can not understand in the slightest why... why he ever went to Alfred. Canada, Canada! Canada would've been a good choice... then again, France visits Canada a lot. Shit. Arthur thinks as he watches Alfred open the door.
“Hello! Who is i-” Alfred stares in shock. And in the back of his mind, there are sudden images for this kid on his bed, without his clothes and, Oh God, I am not getting turned on by this. His words contradict the images and the hard-on that's about to come if he doesn't fucking move.
“Go ahead and laugh, bastard.” is all Arthur says.
[A/N: LOL;;; i'msorryihaveashotafetish. ;AAA; Now I sort of wanna draw 18 year old Arthur. -bricked-]
Re: Magic at Work [2/?]not op
anonymous
May 8 2009, 00:41:58 UTC
I'm loving this story!! I can't wait to see what Alfred does<3 seeing Arthur think about the world meeting also sounds cool to see! Waiting for you to write more!
Re: Magic at Work [2/?]
anonymous
May 8 2009, 05:01:58 UTC
...Oh you are who I think you are...Or at least I hope you are because I'm pretty sure you are and it would be kinda embarassing if you aren't who I think you are...And if you understood that then you earn yourself a gold star or two. (I'm cheap and can only buy a few gold stars. Shh...XD)
ANYWAYS. Oh, such a cute story and Alfred, it's not just a river in Egypt and Arthur...probably doesn't fit into his clothes anymore...and so they would be too big...and baggy...and so cute...GAH. NOSEBLEED. (I may also have this slight shota fetish...) And I wanna see him trying to explain this one to everyone...and France's pedo-tastic attempts...XD
Re: Magic at Work [3/?]
anonymous
May 9 2009, 17:20:30 UTC
Alfred doubled over, and started to laugh hysterically; hard-on or not, goddamn, that was priceless! Not only was he adorably cute, he looked like one of the pretty little shota boys in Kiku's mangas!
It was a moment later Arthur punched him; “Stop laughing and let me in already, you git!” Alfred rubs his sore head and walks out of the way. Arthur would've punched him for, unless he heard wrong, saying, “As you wish, princess.” under his breath if he didn't just hit him already.
When they settled on the couch, Alfred sitting with a pillow cuddled in his arms (He has to hide his undignified erection with something!) looks at Arthur.
“So, Iggy, what the hell happened to you?” Alfred asked, though it sounded if he has was stating something obvious. Arthur scowled in return.
“Apparently, I was testing out magic last night and it went haywire. So, mother fucking hell, I am 18 years old in human years again. Peachy, huh.” Arthur says, scowling deeper and glowering as Alfred begins to laugh all over again, hitting the couch in his moment or chance to just laugh at Arthur for doing something so... so dumb, and so not Arthur-like.
“Stop laughing, you git!” Arthur shouts, and Alfred holds his hand up as a stop sign and struggles to control his laughter.
“Okay, okay... I'm done, sorry... So you failed your magic and you're younger now.” And so much more cuter. Alfred doesn't add the last part, but Arthur nods in embarrassment.
“... World Meeting's next week, you know.” Alfred says, as if he were taunting him, and Arthur grabs a couch pillow and shoves it in Alfred's face; “I know that, you bloody git!” Arthur shouts, and Alfred pulls the pillow away.
“How are you going to go?” He asks with a smile, and Arthur scowls; “I'll have to go like this, I guess.” And Alfred is laughing all over again.
“F-Francis... Francis is totally going to rape you if you go like that...!” Alfred chokes out between his laughs. Arthur stands up and smacks him over the head, and Alfred doubles over in pain and clutches his throbbing head.
“Ow! Stop hitting me!” Alfred whines and rubs his head and Arthur looks down at him; “Suck it up, git.” And Alfred groans and stands, dusting himself off.
“Fine, fine. Well, your predicament is peachy, but... why did you even come here?” Alfred asks, crossing his arms. Arthur seems as if he has his whole plans to deal with his... childish appearance. Speaking of appearance, Alfred can't help, but note that... that wow, Arthur looks like a little kid.
“... I need somewhere to hide out. Other nations will surely come to bother me. I'm staying here.” Arthur says, and Alfred pauses.
Wait, what? It's bad enough he has a hard-on from what he thinks is a visit from 18-year-old Arthur.
Am I being cursed by Ivan? He thinks.
[A/N: Sorry nothing much happened yet! ;AA;'' I rushed to get this up.]
Re: Magic at Work [3/?]
anonymous
May 9 2009, 23:16:31 UTC
Gleeeeee! An update and so cute! Haha Alfred. Now you must try not to act like Francis and jump the poor boy. And Arthur...you have no idea what you've gotten yourself into, do you? XD
Re: Magic at Work [3/?]
anonymous
May 26 2009, 04:24:14 UTC
Ahh, sorry. I must have missed those. :/ And no, technically it isn't, but I know English better then I do my first language, so you don't have to talk to me as if I'm dumb.
I'm sorry if I came off as rude (okay, not if, I did. |:;; ) but I'm just being honest here.
It's the middle of the morning; Arthur lies in bed, still, watching the ever-moving ceiling (honestly, it's not moving, but Arthur is convinced it is; swirling, he will say.) with a panging against his head. Damn it, he knew he shouldn't have drank last night...
He can't help it though. Another day, another failed spell of love. Now, he'll never say it, but he's got quite the attachment towards Alfred. Arthur is past wondering if it is simply fatherly or brotherly love, or maybe he's really in love with Alfred. Either way, he loves Alfred, and hates seeing him talking to someone else. He'd never say that either.
Which is where all this began. Love potion, love spell, anything that will make Alfred fall in love with him; Arthur passes it as curiosity. Says he wants to know what kind of lover Alfred would make, that's all. So in secret, he'd look through his magic books at night when he's alone, look for anything with a good recipe. He wants one that works for a controlled period of time.
Eventually, he finds one; he remembers it says that it will work for any amount of time the caster wants. They just have to make sure to give the amount of time within the time of casting. It works the next time you meet, they say.
As expected, it ends in smoke and a complete mess, and Arthur says that it must have been a faulty, old piece of magic which has been disabled (in other words, locked beyond use.) by the fairies and other magical beings out there, for the uses it may have. Arthur can't blame them; you could force someone to love you and cause chaos in the world.
None the less, he drinks that night to wash down the hope which flicked when his magic failed. He barely remembers much; just smoke, a lot of it, some incantations of words he can't remember, and then the wine.
Arthur sighs; he has not the time for this. There is paperwork lying on his desk, just calling for him. Further more, another World Meeting, next week. He has to prep his papers and get ready for that too, so he stands and stretches his limbs.
“Something feels off... It must be the wine.” Arthur asks, and draws his own conclusion and walks out of his room, stretching his stiff arms as he does and goes to the bathroom. He grabs the tooth paste and pours it onto his tooth brush, and begins brushing his teeth. In a bit of a daze, he doesn't notice what's so off about him.
So he spits out the tooth paste and rinses his mouth. With a good washing on his face too, he looks at the mirror, and; “WHO THE HELL ARE YOU!? PETER!?” Arthur shouts, and with a turn, he sees no one, but the wall. He cautiously turns to the reflection in the mirror.
“This is illogical.” Is all he says, before he's running to his living room, and rips the photo album out of the shelf. Please let this be some mishap, please, please, please, but he is not granted victory (and the idea that last night's wine was rotten.) when he compares a picture of his time when he appears 18 years old to how he looks now.
[A/N: MY INNER SHOTA WOULDN'T LET ME GO UNTIL I WROTE IT. ;AAAA; ]
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Arthur comes across an image of the spell circle; he looks at it closely, and is positive he drew the circle with perfect precision too...
Until he sees one letter. A letter from ancient Europe in a language Arthur does not know, nor cares for, and he wants to kick himself so badly. It was one stroke; one stroke on the on the wrong side. He wrote it on the wrong side, the wrong side.
“For the love of God! One bloody mistake turned this whole situation into a mess!?” Arthur asks himself, and his voice resounds into the depths of his basement.
The book falls against the floor, and Arthur stomps upstairs. The nation- now a young man- finds himself in front of the mirror, looking at his reflection in his bedroom. He cringes at the sight of it; not only is he younger, he is visibly smaller, by... whom say, he is now 5'5; shrunk 4 feet in an estimate. His face has lost the adultery it once had, and was replaced with the face of a growing youth, even younger appearing then Alfred. Then again, everyone always notes that Arthur looks a bit younger for the acclaimed 23 year old he was.
“Fuck.” He mutters and touches the reflection... and then it hits him; World Meeting. World Meeting. Oh GOD. What was he going to do!? He paces around the room back and forth; he can't just go. For all he knows, they might not recognize him (how they won't is beyond him. His eyebrows are unmistakable.) and if they do; fuck, he's never going to live it down. Especially Francis, that bastard will bother him about it forever.
Government, he is less concerned about. Now, everyone has been plied with paperwork and the paperwork is something he prefers to take care of in the confines of his home, so the paperwork lies in his house. As for visiting officials, well, a call should be enough for now.
Arthur refuses, by any means, to leave his house. He can't exactly stay in it forever though. If he hides in there, people will question it, no? There is almost nowhere to run though... Though, he doesn't deny that he sort of fears his own house too. If he stays, but does not leave, someone from the government will probably come to get him, and he is not coming out like this. It'll be even worse if a fellow nation comes to the aid instead, and that's even more likely.
He has to find someone willing to let him hide over at their house for a bit... But Arthur can not understand in the slightest why... why he ever went to Alfred. Canada, Canada! Canada would've been a good choice... then again, France visits Canada a lot. Shit. Arthur thinks as he watches Alfred open the door.
“Hello! Who is i-” Alfred stares in shock. And in the back of his mind, there are sudden images for this kid on his bed, without his clothes and, Oh God, I am not getting turned on by this. His words contradict the images and the hard-on that's about to come if he doesn't fucking move.
“Go ahead and laugh, bastard.” is all Arthur says.
[A/N: LOL;;; i'msorryihaveashotafetish. ;AAA; Now I sort of wanna draw 18 year old Arthur. -bricked-]
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Arthur changing back to when he was 18! Haha, Alfred's inner pedo is showing~
I can't wait for the rest. \(^w^)/
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ANYWAYS. Oh, such a cute story and Alfred, it's not just a river in Egypt and Arthur...probably doesn't fit into his clothes anymore...and so they would be too big...and baggy...and so cute...GAH. NOSEBLEED. (I may also have this slight shota fetish...) And I wanna see him trying to explain this one to everyone...and France's pedo-tastic attempts...XD
OH ANON, HOW I LOVE YOU SO.
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You're the one who writes the Hold Me Close too right? (sorry if I'm mistaken though >_>;; )
Can't wait for the next! *imagines the UN meeting lol*
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It was a moment later Arthur punched him; “Stop laughing and let me in already, you git!” Alfred rubs his sore head and walks out of the way. Arthur would've punched him for, unless he heard wrong, saying, “As you wish, princess.” under his breath if he didn't just hit him already.
When they settled on the couch, Alfred sitting with a pillow cuddled in his arms (He has to hide his undignified erection with something!) looks at Arthur.
“So, Iggy, what the hell happened to you?” Alfred asked, though it sounded if he has was stating something obvious. Arthur scowled in return.
“Apparently, I was testing out magic last night and it went haywire. So, mother fucking hell, I am 18 years old in human years again. Peachy, huh.” Arthur says, scowling deeper and glowering as Alfred begins to laugh all over again, hitting the couch in his moment or chance to just laugh at Arthur for doing something so... so dumb, and so not Arthur-like.
“Stop laughing, you git!” Arthur shouts, and Alfred holds his hand up as a stop sign and struggles to control his laughter.
“Okay, okay... I'm done, sorry... So you failed your magic and you're younger now.” And so much more cuter. Alfred doesn't add the last part, but Arthur nods in embarrassment.
“... World Meeting's next week, you know.” Alfred says, as if he were taunting him, and Arthur grabs a couch pillow and shoves it in Alfred's face; “I know that, you bloody git!” Arthur shouts, and Alfred pulls the pillow away.
“How are you going to go?” He asks with a smile, and Arthur scowls; “I'll have to go like this, I guess.” And Alfred is laughing all over again.
“F-Francis... Francis is totally going to rape you if you go like that...!” Alfred chokes out between his laughs. Arthur stands up and smacks him over the head, and Alfred doubles over in pain and clutches his throbbing head.
“Ow! Stop hitting me!” Alfred whines and rubs his head and Arthur looks down at him; “Suck it up, git.” And Alfred groans and stands, dusting himself off.
“Fine, fine. Well, your predicament is peachy, but... why did you even come here?” Alfred asks, crossing his arms. Arthur seems as if he has his whole plans to deal with his... childish appearance. Speaking of appearance, Alfred can't help, but note that... that wow, Arthur looks like a little kid.
“... I need somewhere to hide out. Other nations will surely come to bother me. I'm staying here.” Arthur says, and Alfred pauses.
Wait, what? It's bad enough he has a hard-on from what he thinks is a visit from 18-year-old Arthur.
Am I being cursed by Ivan? He thinks.
[A/N: Sorry nothing much happened yet! ;AA;'' I rushed to get this up.]
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This story is so cute.
btw this is the OP from your other fic~
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OH ANON, HOW I LOVE YOU SO!
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ILU TOO, BBY~~
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LOVE-LOVE FOR YOOOOOOOOUUUUUU.
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"more cuter"
"face lost the adultery it once had"
is english your first language...? maybe you should get a beta.
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I'm sorry if I came off as rude (okay, not if, I did. |:;; ) but I'm just being honest here.
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