Painting on a Blank Canvas [1]
anonymous
December 11 2009, 03:25:03 UTC
Not the one who promised a uh, Overboard-like fill (Don't even know the movie). And more than likely not what OP was expecting or hoping, but the request sent me typing. Uh. Yeah.
I hope OP still likes it? ;__;
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When America arrives at the devasted city, he sees the miles and miles of rubble, he smells the clouds and clouds of smoke, and he hears the cries and cries of the people as they mourn for what they had just lost. But America is did not come for them, no. He ignores, painfully, the young and the middle aged and the old alike, and heads straight for where he was sure he would be
( ... )
Painting on a Blank Canvas [2]
anonymous
December 11 2009, 03:27:07 UTC
He lies to England.
“Are you special to me?” England asks, after America has calmed down and sits on the bed, his hand still laced with England’s own.
“I am.” And that is the truth. Or what he hopes is the truth. The memories of the Revolution is - was - still branded in England’s mind and America knows how much it had damaged their relationship. They had avoided each other for a long time - too much a long time for America. But he could not deny England is special to him, and he would divide and conquer the whole world if he had to, just to prove it.
“Ah,” The older nation shifts in his bed, and looks out the window beside him. “In what way, if I may ask?” Green eyes turns to him and America could almost feel them piercing him with its gaze, as England’s look would always do.
There are many responses to that. Ally. Son. Brother. Family. Those would be the right responses. But America feels selfish, because if England cannot remember, then maybe, maybe they could start anew? So instead of telling the truth, he says another thing
( ... )
Re: Painting on a Blank Canvas [2]
anonymous
December 11 2009, 04:16:05 UTC
You are going to finish this. Right. Notice that was a STATEMENT, not a question.
Ffff! Apart from a few typos and grammar fluxes here and there, this is an amazing start! The way you've set the mood and the circumstances has already hooked me. Why was England attacked? How will America cope with the guilt of lying to him ('cus he's just suppressing it now, but that won't last long...)? You've left it at a very open ended, but very intriguing junction.
Re: Painting on a Blank Canvas [2]
anonymous
December 11 2009, 05:26:39 UTC
Need for more author!Anon!!! This is a wonderful start!!! I know that this anon would love to see more from this fill. You've done such a nice setup that I really want to see where you go with this!
Re: Painting on a Blank Canvas [2]
anonymous
December 12 2009, 12:25:24 UTC
Oh god, I love this. Just ... so much. I especially love how you wrote it. Though like the other anon up there said, a few grammar fluxes but I just love how you wrote it.
Painting on a Blank Canvas [3]
anonymous
December 14 2009, 03:53:00 UTC
You gaaaiz D: Seriously. You made me do it.
Also, eh, sorry for the grammar mistakes D: I really wouldn't mind you pointing them out to me so I can fix it...
--
England sleeps for the duration of the afternoon, his body still suffering from the toll of his injuries. America guesses that it may also be because of the apparent gaps in his memory.
England remembers the idea of nations having a personification, but not that he himself is one. He remembers his human name - Arthur Kirkland - but not his name, England. He remembers the Union Jack, but not who are under that same flag and their relation to him. He can remember his beloved Queen Elizabeth, but not the one that sits on the throne today. He can remember his current Prime Minister, but not his greatest king, his namesake, King Arthur. And he remembers his days as an empire, but he is unable to name a single one of his colonies.
When France stops by that evening, England is awake and calls him “Gaul.” France does not say anything for a moment, but in the end he gives the
( ... )
Painting on a Blank Canvas [4]
anonymous
December 15 2009, 22:19:09 UTC
The next meeting is held three days after the attack, in Berlin. Originally, it was scheduled for two weeks later, however, with the incident, pushing the date sooner was inevitable
( ... )
I hope OP still likes it? ;__;
---
When America arrives at the devasted city, he sees the miles and miles of rubble, he smells the clouds and clouds of smoke, and he hears the cries and cries of the people as they mourn for what they had just lost. But America is did not come for them, no. He ignores, painfully, the young and the middle aged and the old alike, and heads straight for where he was sure he would be ( ... )
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“Are you special to me?” England asks, after America has calmed down and sits on the bed, his hand still laced with England’s own.
“I am.” And that is the truth. Or what he hopes is the truth. The memories of the Revolution is - was - still branded in England’s mind and America knows how much it had damaged their relationship. They had avoided each other for a long time - too much a long time for America. But he could not deny England is special to him, and he would divide and conquer the whole world if he had to, just to prove it.
“Ah,” The older nation shifts in his bed, and looks out the window beside him. “In what way, if I may ask?” Green eyes turns to him and America could almost feel them piercing him with its gaze, as England’s look would always do.
There are many responses to that. Ally. Son. Brother. Family. Those would be the right responses. But America feels selfish, because if England cannot remember, then maybe, maybe they could start anew? So instead of telling the truth, he says another thing ( ... )
Reply
Ffff! Apart from a few typos and grammar fluxes here and there, this is an amazing start! The way you've set the mood and the circumstances has already hooked me. Why was England attacked? How will America cope with the guilt of lying to him ('cus he's just suppressing it now, but that won't last long...)? You've left it at a very open ended, but very intriguing junction.
Moar. <....plz?>
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;-;
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I especially love how you wrote it. Though like the other anon up there said, a few grammar fluxes but I just love how you wrote it.
reCaptcha: vious lubing. lubing -dies-
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Also, eh, sorry for the grammar mistakes D: I really wouldn't mind you pointing them out to me so I can fix it...
--
England sleeps for the duration of the afternoon, his body still suffering from the toll of his injuries. America guesses that it may also be because of the apparent gaps in his memory.
England remembers the idea of nations having a personification, but not that he himself is one. He remembers his human name - Arthur Kirkland - but not his name, England. He remembers the Union Jack, but not who are under that same flag and their relation to him. He can remember his beloved Queen Elizabeth, but not the one that sits on the throne today. He can remember his current Prime Minister, but not his greatest king, his namesake, King Arthur. And he remembers his days as an empire, but he is unable to name a single one of his colonies.
When France stops by that evening, England is awake and calls him “Gaul.” France does not say anything for a moment, but in the end he gives the ( ... )
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I really liked the way France and England interacted in this part. Poor America D: Keep up the good work ^^
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IT'S A SEXY PLOT.
/shot
I'm so glad you continued. Are we going to see Matthew's reaction to Alfred's deception?
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Count on it. I won't skip that for the world. :'D
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I'm really hoping for some de tabernac usage... if it's not too much...
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