Anon may end up filling this out herself, but I would reeeally like to see other anon's interpretations and fills (this global thing excites me! I love seeing other people's takes on things!)
But, I would like to see USxUK, slowdancing. Not waltzing, mind you. Slowdancing. You know, to those old sweet songs our parents used to dance to back when the kids were small and they were lovey-dovey? That. If you really want to (and you know some good songs like that in other languages), you can switch the pairing. Fluffy. Let's see multiple fills maybe!
Smut isn't neccessary, and song is up to the anon!
She couldn’t recall when she’d last bought herself a truly indulgent piece of clothing. After all, she wasn’t Frances, who appeared in new outfits practically every hour. She was practical. True, she bought good suits, but they were definitely made to last (though she’d given in and replaced her favorite faded gray-green tweed with something more “chic,” as Frances put it, and in black
( ... )
Alana found herself smiling at him; damn him and his golden optimism. Damn his sweetness, his good heart, his… Lightly, she patted him on the shoulder. “Yes,” she said simply, smiling at him
( ... )
“No one, no one, no one Can get in the way of what I'm feeling No one, no one, no one Can get in the way of what I feel for you, you, you Can get in the way of what I feel for you
When the rain is pouring down And my heart is hurting You will always be around This I know for certain You and me together.”
“An interesting choice of song,” Alana commented during the chorus, narrowly missing getting her feet stepped on by his beautifully polished dress shoes.
“It’s got a good beat,” Alfred said with a shrug and she snorted indelicately.
He was wearing cologne. Southern Comfort, she thought. But no cologne or toiletries could hide his smell, his real smell. Sun warmed grain and fresh cut grass, ocean winds and the air off mountaintops, apples and asphalt and exhaust. Perhaps the smell of clean sweat; was that just him?
She wondered what she smelled like to him, under her rosemary and bergamot perfume.
She stared at him as the song started to wind to a close. This was his day, she told herself. It was all his. She could be happy for him, without being bitter, without being sad. She could be genuinely proud of him, without interjecting cynicism and cruel critique. America thrived on hope, on new beginnings- she couldn’t bring herself to break the glorious start he had here
( ... )
Anon, this fill makes my heart burst. For some reason I was expecting genderbent US, and then it was England and it was perfect. Her, their relationship and interactions, everything. And that half-untentional kiss. Oh my god.
Re: Golden [4/4]
anonymous
May 7 2009, 23:53:10 UTC
I KNEW IT WAS YOU. I KNEW IT EVEN BEFORE YOU GAVE OUT ALANA'S NAME. XD Oh anon! This was gorgeous and beautiful and perfect. Absolutely wonderful. Gah. I have to stop now or I will be gushing on about it for far too long...
Re: Golden [4/4]
anonymous
May 14 2009, 17:39:23 UTC
There are not words in the English language to properly describe how much I adore Alana and your writing about her - perhaps the latter the most, the amount of genderflip around considered. This was such a lovely little scene between the two of them, with just the right amount of motherly affection and something more. I enjoyed it very much ♥
But, I would like to see USxUK, slowdancing. Not waltzing, mind you. Slowdancing. You know, to those old sweet songs our parents used to dance to back when the kids were small and they were lovey-dovey? That. If you really want to (and you know some good songs like that in other languages), you can switch the pairing. Fluffy. Let's see multiple fills maybe!
Smut isn't neccessary, and song is up to the anon!
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Can get in the way of what I'm feeling
No one, no one, no one
Can get in the way of what I feel for you, you, you
Can get in the way of what I feel for you
When the rain is pouring down
And my heart is hurting
You will always be around
This I know for certain
You and me together.”
“An interesting choice of song,” Alana commented during the chorus, narrowly missing getting her feet stepped on by his beautifully polished dress shoes.
“It’s got a good beat,” Alfred said with a shrug and she snorted indelicately.
He was wearing cologne. Southern Comfort, she thought. But no cologne or toiletries could hide his smell, his real smell. Sun warmed grain and fresh cut grass, ocean winds and the air off mountaintops, apples and asphalt and exhaust. Perhaps the smell of clean sweat; was that just him?
She wondered what she smelled like to him, under her rosemary and bergamot perfume.
“Through the days and nights ( ... )
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Anon, this fill makes my heart burst. For some reason I was expecting genderbent US, and then it was England and it was perfect. Her, their relationship and interactions, everything. And that half-untentional kiss. Oh my god.
♥ ♥ A million hearts for you, Anon.
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And I'm so glad you were the one who wrote this, seeing Alana again made me smile so wide. I really, really love that character of yours, you know.
And her with Alfred is just priceless. There's a quiet sense of rightness to the whole thing, and its just perfect.
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