(no subject)
Title:: Untitled
Author: anasyrma
Rating: PG?
Series/Fandom: Axis Powers Hetalia
Characters/Pairings: Alfred (America) & Matthew (Canada)
Warnings: Dumb. Lots of dumb.
Summary: Speed fic prompt (fayore): "America, Canada, and ice cream." Alfred and Matthew uphold a brotherly tradition: arguing over something completely inane.
They sit on the roof, on the edges of a clear blue Sunday, and ponder the wonders of gelato.
"That's gay," blurts Alfred, blunt and unabashed. When his brother gives him a look dripping with indignation and implications of the wow, you're an idiot, eh kind, Alfred corrects himself. He's been working on this type of thing - tact, I mean. "Oh, oh, sorry. I meant, homo. Homosexual. It isn't anyone's fault. It's in the genes."
"First of all, no, don't even start that," replies Matthew, rolling his eyes and tipping his bottle of beer to his lips (he may be the younger one, but the rules of his land aren't as stupid as Alfred's, so ha), "Second of all, it's not - gay, as you say. Please don't call it that. It's a word, Al. Words are generally void of sexual orientation."
But Alfred elbows his shoulder with a bark of fake laughter and nearly sends him tumbling down the rooftop. Through a yelp, Matthew wonders if it was really fair that Al called him things like passive aggressive when he pulled shit like this all the damn time.
He's getting better, Matthew tells himself, even as he stared forlornly at the puddle of spilled booze existing pathetically beside him, at the now empty bottle in his hand. Better. Yes. That.
"But Francis and Antonio and them give genders to their words!" A wild gesture here, a wild gesture there. "There are boy things and girl things, so why can't they be gay or straight?"
"Because that's stupid," mutters Matthew, but of course, Alfred ignores him.
"And why can't they just call gelato, ice cream? I don't get it!"
Matthew sighs, runs a hand through his curly hair. "We went over this. Gelato is just different, alright?"
"No it's -"
"Look," interrupts Matthew, "They're not the same. If you say they're all the same, you're being a little ...you know. Communist."
"What -"
"Communist," repeats Matthew, because Alfred HATES it.
And so his brother deflates, shuts up, but mouths 'you dirty socialist traitor' at him behind his back first.
Title:: Untitled
Author: anasyrma
Rating: PG?
Series/Fandom: Axis Powers Hetalia
Characters/Pairings: Eduard (Estonia) & Tino (Finland)
Warnings: geekery, shoddy Estonia characterization
Summary: Speed fic prompt (yuuago): "Finland, Estonia, and failed flirting." Tino knows how to show Eduard a good time.
It had been going on for hours now.
[21:04] SexyBombKitten1343: wanna c mai webcam
[21:07] Eesti Vabariik1: ...?
[21:09] Eesti Vabariik1: Not really. I'm busy.
[21:10] SexyBombKitten1343: wat
[21:10] SexyBombKitten1343: c'mon, u'll <3<3 it
[21:10] SexyBombKitten1343: i hav gr8 tits
[21:11] Eesti Vabariik1: Wait what.
[21:12] SexyBombKitten1343: Tits.
[21:12] Eesti Vabariik1: ...oh.
[21:13] Eesti Vabariik1: Perhaps later.
[21:14] SexyBombKitten1343: i though u sed u r a man
[21:15] SexyBombKitten1343: dats wat the 'm' stood for rite
[21: 17] SexyBombKitten1343: hello?
[21:18] Eesti Vabariik1: Um
Horrified features illuminated an eerie blue from the glow of the computer screen, Eduard swiveled bodily in his office chair to cut Tino's view from this - this dreadful conversation he was so not having. Tino, whose ears shone a brilliant red from how hard and how badly he hid his chuckles, only shrugged at him helplessly and offered a pitying smile. Tino, his best friend and trustworthy neighbor, who was to blame for this entire situation in the first place.
"This was a ridiculous idea," said Eduard, reaching under the bridge of his glasses to pinch the skin underneath. Hopefully the action would cut enough neurotransmitters from reaching his brain and screaming, HEY! HEY YOU! YOU HAVE A HEADACHE! "I don't even use AOL instant messenger."
"Just say something and block her, then." Stealthily, Tino reached over his shoulder to grab hold of the laptop, but Eduard slapped his hand away just in time. "H-hey, what was that for!"
[21:25] SexyBombKitten1343: r u there
"Hm," and so the younger of the two flashed his best deadpan glare, glasses glinting malevolently for emphasis. "It's your fault this ....woman is talking to me, Väinämöinen," Eduard stated in perfect monotone, sharing his previous thoughts. "I will not allow you to worsen the - the situation."
"You said you were bored earlier, remember?" With the way Tino spoke, everything he said sounded so clear, so logical. "I just mentioned a chat room, and you went there on your own volition."
"But-"
"And she's only trying to, ah, be friendly. You know how amiable Americans are," Tino continued, nodding marginally at his own analysis, "Friendly like how the young women get during CHILD OF BODOM concerts, yes?"
"I am not Child of Bodom," remarked Eduard, furrowing his eyebrows and immediatly retracting his mental 'logical' comment. His friend was on the verge of another incoherent rant again. He could feel it. "If my lack of grungy attire was not obvious enough."
"Show time girls, they call them! Right? Viking Death Metal Maidens!" Eduard nearly choked at the devil horn symbols Tino flashed with his hands. They were in a cubicle wearing suits. "Rock on! Norge thinks he's got the monopoly on music, but he's wrong, really."
That explains Eurovision, Eduard ALMOST said, but didn't, because Tino got all weird when a competition was mentioned - especially a competition Berwald participated in as well. "... right."
"So, is she still talking to you?" asked Tino, not missing a beat, as if everything he just said was relevant and good.
"No," lied Eduard, "You scared her away."
"What?"
[21:27] SexyBombKitten1343: eddie?
[21:28] SexyBombKitten1343: )-':
The remnant ding of the IM window echoed across the entire, fortunately mostly empty office; and Tino's mouth twitched curiously at the edges. After swallowing a petrified noise, Eduard calmly shut his laptop, features darkening.
"If this Sexy Viking Death Metal Kitten infected me with an E-STD, I swear on my sword you'll never open your e-mail account ever again."
Tino laughed so hard his sides started aching.
Title:: Untitled
Author: anasyrma
Rating: PG-13
Series/Fandom: Katekyo Hitman Reborn!
Characters/Pairings: Ryohei Sasagawa
Warnings: Violence
Summary: Speed fic prompt (katsumeragi): "Ryohei, boxing, and romanticism." When boxing isn't boxing anymore.
Ryohei ducks, feels his opponent's knuckles graze his cheek, and realizes in passing that he hasn't done this in a long, long time. On this square platform world, there exists no bureaucracy, no politics, no nothing. It's just red corner pitted against blue, just a means to an one word goal: winning.
And he didn't have to wear a stuffy suit and tie to do so.
Adrenaline pumps and pumps, and Ryohei lets his body go through the motions. He's fought for so damn long that thinking in this primal state, this primal game, would only be a detriment. It's lucid, like dreaming, except bones break against the power of his blows, nose bleed rain drops land on the edges of his smile in real, real enough time. He screams and screams, battle cries, and watches his opponent crumple beneath him.
Ten, nine, eight.
From the ground, his opponent gives him a wide eyed stare through swollen eyelids. Suddenly, Ryohei remembers.
Seven, six, five.
His last hit, he offed the guy with his bare hands. Fisticuffs. Just like how his client wanted it - an old fashioned beat down, man to man, empty suits of armor, filled only with purpose and responsibility and the names of well respected gang families, going at it without sword or shield or AK-47. A dislocated jaw, a xiphoid process and two sets of ribs collapsing and digging and tearing into lungs, no weapons needed. Just fists. The thought cools the blood in his veins, boiling blood to cyanide.
Four, three, two.
His enemy - no, his rival, his rival sees the look in his eyes, doesn't get up. Ryohei inhales, resists the urge to look into the crowd and affirm that his wife and sister aren't sitting in the aisles, watching. Watching him like this.
Why isn't he getting up - he can still fight to the limit, why is he staying down like that -
Staring down at this man like some kinda god.
One.
Vaguely, Ryohei realizes and blinks against the imaginary hole growing in his chest. This wasn't a boxing match. This wasn't extreme at all.
But the referee climbs into the ring and raises his limp, gloved hand high into the air. Says something in Italian, and the crowd goes wild.
-
The next day, he places the trophy next to his hotel bed stand and gets back to work.
Author: anasyrma
Rating: PG?
Series/Fandom: Axis Powers Hetalia
Characters/Pairings: Alfred (America) & Matthew (Canada)
Warnings: Dumb. Lots of dumb.
Summary: Speed fic prompt (fayore): "America, Canada, and ice cream." Alfred and Matthew uphold a brotherly tradition: arguing over something completely inane.
They sit on the roof, on the edges of a clear blue Sunday, and ponder the wonders of gelato.
"That's gay," blurts Alfred, blunt and unabashed. When his brother gives him a look dripping with indignation and implications of the wow, you're an idiot, eh kind, Alfred corrects himself. He's been working on this type of thing - tact, I mean. "Oh, oh, sorry. I meant, homo. Homosexual. It isn't anyone's fault. It's in the genes."
"First of all, no, don't even start that," replies Matthew, rolling his eyes and tipping his bottle of beer to his lips (he may be the younger one, but the rules of his land aren't as stupid as Alfred's, so ha), "Second of all, it's not - gay, as you say. Please don't call it that. It's a word, Al. Words are generally void of sexual orientation."
But Alfred elbows his shoulder with a bark of fake laughter and nearly sends him tumbling down the rooftop. Through a yelp, Matthew wonders if it was really fair that Al called him things like passive aggressive when he pulled shit like this all the damn time.
He's getting better, Matthew tells himself, even as he stared forlornly at the puddle of spilled booze existing pathetically beside him, at the now empty bottle in his hand. Better. Yes. That.
"But Francis and Antonio and them give genders to their words!" A wild gesture here, a wild gesture there. "There are boy things and girl things, so why can't they be gay or straight?"
"Because that's stupid," mutters Matthew, but of course, Alfred ignores him.
"And why can't they just call gelato, ice cream? I don't get it!"
Matthew sighs, runs a hand through his curly hair. "We went over this. Gelato is just different, alright?"
"No it's -"
"Look," interrupts Matthew, "They're not the same. If you say they're all the same, you're being a little ...you know. Communist."
"What -"
"Communist," repeats Matthew, because Alfred HATES it.
And so his brother deflates, shuts up, but mouths 'you dirty socialist traitor' at him behind his back first.
Title:: Untitled
Author: anasyrma
Rating: PG?
Series/Fandom: Axis Powers Hetalia
Characters/Pairings: Eduard (Estonia) & Tino (Finland)
Warnings: geekery, shoddy Estonia characterization
Summary: Speed fic prompt (yuuago): "Finland, Estonia, and failed flirting." Tino knows how to show Eduard a good time.
It had been going on for hours now.
[21:04] SexyBombKitten1343: wanna c mai webcam
[21:07] Eesti Vabariik1: ...?
[21:09] Eesti Vabariik1: Not really. I'm busy.
[21:10] SexyBombKitten1343: wat
[21:10] SexyBombKitten1343: c'mon, u'll <3<3 it
[21:10] SexyBombKitten1343: i hav gr8 tits
[21:11] Eesti Vabariik1: Wait what.
[21:12] SexyBombKitten1343: Tits.
[21:12] Eesti Vabariik1: ...oh.
[21:13] Eesti Vabariik1: Perhaps later.
[21:14] SexyBombKitten1343: i though u sed u r a man
[21:15] SexyBombKitten1343: dats wat the 'm' stood for rite
[21: 17] SexyBombKitten1343: hello?
[21:18] Eesti Vabariik1: Um
Horrified features illuminated an eerie blue from the glow of the computer screen, Eduard swiveled bodily in his office chair to cut Tino's view from this - this dreadful conversation he was so not having. Tino, whose ears shone a brilliant red from how hard and how badly he hid his chuckles, only shrugged at him helplessly and offered a pitying smile. Tino, his best friend and trustworthy neighbor, who was to blame for this entire situation in the first place.
"This was a ridiculous idea," said Eduard, reaching under the bridge of his glasses to pinch the skin underneath. Hopefully the action would cut enough neurotransmitters from reaching his brain and screaming, HEY! HEY YOU! YOU HAVE A HEADACHE! "I don't even use AOL instant messenger."
"Just say something and block her, then." Stealthily, Tino reached over his shoulder to grab hold of the laptop, but Eduard slapped his hand away just in time. "H-hey, what was that for!"
[21:25] SexyBombKitten1343: r u there
"Hm," and so the younger of the two flashed his best deadpan glare, glasses glinting malevolently for emphasis. "It's your fault this ....woman is talking to me, Väinämöinen," Eduard stated in perfect monotone, sharing his previous thoughts. "I will not allow you to worsen the - the situation."
"You said you were bored earlier, remember?" With the way Tino spoke, everything he said sounded so clear, so logical. "I just mentioned a chat room, and you went there on your own volition."
"But-"
"And she's only trying to, ah, be friendly. You know how amiable Americans are," Tino continued, nodding marginally at his own analysis, "Friendly like how the young women get during CHILD OF BODOM concerts, yes?"
"I am not Child of Bodom," remarked Eduard, furrowing his eyebrows and immediatly retracting his mental 'logical' comment. His friend was on the verge of another incoherent rant again. He could feel it. "If my lack of grungy attire was not obvious enough."
"Show time girls, they call them! Right? Viking Death Metal Maidens!" Eduard nearly choked at the devil horn symbols Tino flashed with his hands. They were in a cubicle wearing suits. "Rock on! Norge thinks he's got the monopoly on music, but he's wrong, really."
That explains Eurovision, Eduard ALMOST said, but didn't, because Tino got all weird when a competition was mentioned - especially a competition Berwald participated in as well. "... right."
"So, is she still talking to you?" asked Tino, not missing a beat, as if everything he just said was relevant and good.
"No," lied Eduard, "You scared her away."
"What?"
[21:27] SexyBombKitten1343: eddie?
[21:28] SexyBombKitten1343: )-':
The remnant ding of the IM window echoed across the entire, fortunately mostly empty office; and Tino's mouth twitched curiously at the edges. After swallowing a petrified noise, Eduard calmly shut his laptop, features darkening.
"If this Sexy Viking Death Metal Kitten infected me with an E-STD, I swear on my sword you'll never open your e-mail account ever again."
Tino laughed so hard his sides started aching.
Title:: Untitled
Author: anasyrma
Rating: PG-13
Series/Fandom: Katekyo Hitman Reborn!
Characters/Pairings: Ryohei Sasagawa
Warnings: Violence
Summary: Speed fic prompt (katsumeragi): "Ryohei, boxing, and romanticism." When boxing isn't boxing anymore.
Ryohei ducks, feels his opponent's knuckles graze his cheek, and realizes in passing that he hasn't done this in a long, long time. On this square platform world, there exists no bureaucracy, no politics, no nothing. It's just red corner pitted against blue, just a means to an one word goal: winning.
And he didn't have to wear a stuffy suit and tie to do so.
Adrenaline pumps and pumps, and Ryohei lets his body go through the motions. He's fought for so damn long that thinking in this primal state, this primal game, would only be a detriment. It's lucid, like dreaming, except bones break against the power of his blows, nose bleed rain drops land on the edges of his smile in real, real enough time. He screams and screams, battle cries, and watches his opponent crumple beneath him.
Ten, nine, eight.
From the ground, his opponent gives him a wide eyed stare through swollen eyelids. Suddenly, Ryohei remembers.
Seven, six, five.
His last hit, he offed the guy with his bare hands. Fisticuffs. Just like how his client wanted it - an old fashioned beat down, man to man, empty suits of armor, filled only with purpose and responsibility and the names of well respected gang families, going at it without sword or shield or AK-47. A dislocated jaw, a xiphoid process and two sets of ribs collapsing and digging and tearing into lungs, no weapons needed. Just fists. The thought cools the blood in his veins, boiling blood to cyanide.
Four, three, two.
His enemy - no, his rival, his rival sees the look in his eyes, doesn't get up. Ryohei inhales, resists the urge to look into the crowd and affirm that his wife and sister aren't sitting in the aisles, watching. Watching him like this.
Why isn't he getting up - he can still fight to the limit, why is he staying down like that -
Staring down at this man like some kinda god.
One.
Vaguely, Ryohei realizes and blinks against the imaginary hole growing in his chest. This wasn't a boxing match. This wasn't extreme at all.
But the referee climbs into the ring and raises his limp, gloved hand high into the air. Says something in Italian, and the crowd goes wild.
-
The next day, he places the trophy next to his hotel bed stand and gets back to work.