Past-Part Fills Part 7
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Past-Part Fills Part Seven
Fills from past parts can go here!
Fills from the current part (part 22) MUST go in that part's post until it is full.
Link to the original request (and if an ongoing fill, any previous chapters/sections).
Don't forget to link your new fill at the fill ( Read more... )
Just a warning: this is my first attempt at complete and utter CRACK. Take that as you will.
Enjoy~
**
“America.”
Canada's hissed whisper was ignored - he was just being a hatchling, getting all worked up when there was nothing to be scared of.
“America, please hurry up!”
America ruffled his feathers in annoyance. He should have known Canada wouldn't make a good lookout; he'd have been better off with Japan or Iceland.
“America!”
Oh well, too late to do anything about it now.
America crouched lower in the grass, shuffling closer to the rusty old pump. The matted nest at its base was empty, but he didn't want to take any chances, just in case the Egg Thief was lurking nearby.
He'd heard the stories - England had been telling them since practically before America had hatched - and as much as he was sure he could take on any villain, it would be a lot easier just to avoid a fight altogether. Though, America mused, it would be an awesome battle.
The nest itself was slightly disappointing, just dried grass and bits of colored string. There were no bloody egg shells, no tiny bones, nothing to indicate that this was the home of the most dastardly duck to ever set foot near the Pond.
With a shake of his wings, America looked to the water pump. At least it lived up to the stories, looming high above him like a giant; covered in rust and bits of peeling red paint. He clacked his beak in satisfaction at the sight, carefully picking his way around the nest, ignoring Canada's frantic quaking.
(Next time, he was bringing Japan.)
He had hoped to take home a bone or bit of egg shell as proof of his courageous feat, but since there wasn't anything like that to be found (and there was no way he was taking a strand of grass that could have come from anywhere), he would have to settle for a piece of the paint.
Catching one particularly large peel in his bill, America backed away, shaking his head to break the paint off completely.
“Abgdot!” He called to Canada, the words blurring together as his bill remained tightly closed over his prize. Turning to waddle back to where Canada was waiting for him, he ran straight into a feathery wall.
“What do you think you are doing?”
America stumbled backwards, flapping his wings frantically in an effort to catch himself, all the while squawking like a frightened hatchling. Somehow he managed to pull himself together, shaking out his feathers and stretching his wings as though that had been the reason they had been unfurled in the first place, preening at the places where his feathers had been ruffled by the sudden fall.
Once he believed himself to look “so totally not scared of anything ever” (as Poland had once laughingly described America's usual methods of saving his reputation), America straightened.
His eyes widened as he took in the giant of a duck that stood in front of him. It was a drake in full mating colors; the feathers on his head were a brilliant green that almost shone in the sunlight, coming to a stop at the band of white halfway down his neck; and at the base, there was another thin band - tan with hints of red and white - that. . . - America gulped as he traced the second band of color down to the ground- . . . wasn't actually feathers.
It was the Egg Thief.
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Shaking his head violently, America tried to stop the sudden deluge of mental images. When it started to get uncomfortable - standing there beneath those laughing eyes and knowing that the drake could tell what he was thinking - Alfred took off down the hill, wings open wide to keep himself from tumbling head over tail, shouting at the top of his lungs, “You'll never take me alive!”
That night, as England scolded America for being so foolish (Veneciano had seem America running down the hill, and he'd told Romano, who told Spain, who told France, who told England, who seemed to be under the assumption that America would listen to him if he said the same things over and over in a really loud voice), America was already planning another trip to the top of the hill.
This time, though, he wasn't taking Canada.
**
Mostly because Canada was praised for being the “good” brother while poor Meri was being lectured, the sneaky little bastard.
Yes... As you can probably tell, I'm really not taking any of this seriously.
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Dis gon' be good, I can tell.
And really, this was a crack prompt when I requested it, and I would have been disappointed otherwise if it were to be written in a "serious manner." (That's a total lie, I would've loved the story anyway, but we're turning anthropomorphic countries into ducks. Clearly there is something in the air.)
But my dumb prompt is being filled ahhhhhhhh I'm so happy I'm laughing hysterically and I can't wait for more keep up the awesome work anon!
<3 see I did that little heart sign that represents my love for you wait let me add sparkles (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:・ﾟ✧
Gorgeous.
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I'm glad you like it! I'm not too good with updates - they're usually either too short, or too far apart, or both - but I'll do my best.
Hearts and Sparkles! I guess I did something right! XD
Thanks!
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