Enjoy a bad one-shot. Written in English^^
It was raining. Heavy drops of golden syrup was falling to the ground, some of it tainting the white, fluffy trees and the lollipops that were occasionally sticking out of the ground. The clouds were dusted pink. Then, a man came skipping through the forest. He was dressed in a pink shirt under a purple west, khaki pants and a shining, light blue bowtie around his neck, the colour perfectly matching his eyes.
He looked like a lunatic, skipping away, occasionally stopping to take a closer look at some of the plants growing in the forest, picking up only the best of them, however, only fungi, berries and roots got plucked. He didn't seem to notice that the maple-syrup-rain was making his blonde hair stick to his pale face, nor, quite frankly, did he care.
He eventually got to his destination, a rather large, dark mansion – which apparently looked haunted in some peoples eyes, and knocked on the door, politely.
"Ah, Oliver, what took you so long?" an emotionless man said with a French accent as he opened the door.
Oliver only giggled and said with his British accent: "Well, François, I cannot use anything but the best ingredients for the family dinner!"
François just shook his head at Oliver – the semi-blonde, shoulder length hair following the motion, and let him in.
They ventured straight into the rather large, well-organized kitchen, and Oliver went to prepare himself for making dinner, washing his hands and such.
"France, love, have you got your hands on the meat I asked you to get?" Oliver asked – knowing that the Frenchman has. "Oui, Angleterre, I have." He answered in the same flat tone, and dumped a rather slender body on the kitchen table. It looked like a young woman around 18, she had long, black hair and her face was bloody and terrified.
"That's good, love. Now I will be able to make my famous meat pies!" Oliver said as he re-entered the kitchen and found the body, grinning wickedly as he did. His eyes were now swirling with a wicked hipster pink, and he grabbed a knife.
He then proceeded to firstly kiss François passionately, then cleaning and cutting the human flesh into the most luscious meat slices one could think of.
As François took his leave to bury the remains of the body, Oliver started to prepare the rest of the ingredients and the dough.
Just before the pies were ready, a couple of kids come stalking in the kitchen door, apparently dragged here by the delicious smell. They were two boys, twins, one with blonde, wavy hair, that had a cute, ringlet-style ahoge sticking up, and lilac eyes, the other with a deep red shade of hair, also with an ahoge, but his sticking directly up and being thicker than his brothers, his eyes a piercing crimson.
The blonde had pale skin, the redhead a more tanned look, but apart from those obvious differences they were all alike, the same height and build, the same face.
And both of them were dripping of blood.
Oliver spotted them, then said with his sweetest voice: "Mathieu, Alfred, get out of my kitchen when you're so filthy~"
François decided to re-enter at that moment: "You both know that your mommy won't hesitate to poison you, if you don't do as he say."
Then he quickly left to wash himself, so that Oliver wouldn't poison him too.
But Alfred and Mathieu started to verbally fight each other instead.
"You stupid, hockey-lovin' Canadian!" Alfred started.
"Annoying, egoistic American!" Mathieu shouted back.
"At least I don't look like a girl." Alfred retorted.
"Yeah, right!" Mathieu laughed.
"Your hair is stupid! Long and frilly!" Alfred said.
"PAPA! ALFRED SAID MY HAIR IS STUPID! At least it's not effin' period red! Like yours!" Mathieu shouted angrily, punching Alfred in the face with a balled-up fist.
"ARGH! YOU'RE SO GOING TO GET IT MATHIEU!" Alfred shouted furiously, launching at his brother.
"SHUT UP BOTH OF YOU!" Oliver yelled, the swirling pink in his eyes racing at super-speed, like it always did when he was angry.
When the two teens just continued, he "accidentally" mistook the rat poison for salt. And sprinkled it over two of the pies.
François came back in, and easily broke off the figh that the two boys had started.
"Thank you, love~" Oliver started, "Now, my sweet cuppycakes, let us eat!" he continued, his looks just a bit off, and his voice was way too sweet.
They all gathered around the rather large kitchen table, and Oliver served their pies.
"Fresh meat, right mommy?" Alfred asks musing.
"Yes, my dear cuppycake!" Oliver answered, beaming at François.
They ate in silence for a little while, shortly before Mathieu and Alfred started chocking.
"You didn't?" François asked emotionless.
Oliver just giggled.
Uhm, I don't know what this is. And it's far from a ghost-story. It's based off a cartoon I saw on , a miniature drabble-story I wrote once and some fanfic I read on . Overall just a weird mix of fantasy, fandom and 2p!talia FACE.