A pack of Ten
Pick ten countries:
1. America
2. Prussia
3. Denmark
4. Spain
5. Australia
6. England
7. France
8. Russia
9. Netherlands
10. Canada
First Time (4 and 6: Spain and England)-
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Spain's lips devour his. And England tries to fight back, but Spain isn't having it and the bastard is SO smug about it.
England growls: vicious and like the animal he grew up to be like. And Spain just continues his assault, those experienced fingers and hands moving in ways that should be banned and England's trying to keep up, but England's only been with two nations before this moment and Spain... Damn that stupid Spaniard has slept with nations all over the world and then some.
So England does the only thing that makes sense to his angry mind and fights back physically. Kicking upwards, biting harshly on Spain's lip and catching the bastard's tongue, much to England's satisfaction.
Spain's stronger though and easily traps England's legs with his own and pulls back smiling brightly at the other, as though England is some child that had done something wrong, but Spain being the saint that he is, isn't angry in the least.
"Don't worry Inglaterra," the smile grows larger if it's possible. "I'll teach you how to make love properly."
And England wants to punch him and punch him hard. How dare Spain suggest he was awful! How dare Spain suggest this was anything more than political! And how dare his Queen put him in such a horrid situation, because she bloody well 'loves' Spain's King!
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Angst (7: France)-
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France pays the girl no mind as she falls to the floor, off her horse. He pays her no mind as she valiantly claims that God will save her, that she will fulfil his will to save France. And he pays no mind as they drag her away. He watches as she's sold to the English, England's beside him and they both agree (for once) that they don't care. They stopped caring a little while ago; immortality's set them above the humans who depend on their land.
He hardly hears anything throughout the trial, he knows how it's going to end and hasn't a clue why he's here waiting around. She answers wisely she's smart and there's a feeling of smugness about her… or at least he things there is, but he can't be sure he knows he would if he was getting around answers like she was but…. Is she…
France ignores that feeling… or should he say that numbness of being dethatched. And as Jeanne's eyes find his, he feels as though someone's trying to push him out of hiding (he's hiding… no… no he knows he's not!). And he a powerful nation an immortal turns at the kindness and passion that's held behind those eyes.
They take a break for the night and it's after she agrees to wear feminine clothes that France decides to pay his 'saviour' a visit. A visit to this woman who decided he needed saving. This woman that was making him feel…
"France!" She happily calls him as he enters the English cell (he's surprised England agreed to get him in). She's in a dress and it's strange, he's only seen her in metal clad armour. Thick unflattering armour.
"Jeanne…" He replies uncertain and hesitant and he starts questioning, was he always this wary? Didn't he claim that he wanted to be the country of love? Why was he so… unsure…?
"I'm glad you came," she mutters, and wraps her arms tightly around his neck and he's suddenly overwhelmed. He knows everything about her, how she lived, he can see her fighting and he KNOWS her… and how did it take this long… How come he couldn't remember…?
And the feeling of thousands… no ALL his people come rushing to him and he questions why he was so blind? Why did he stop caring? Why did he cut his self away from his people?
And he suddenly feels the pain of being alive and he stares at Jeanne and he's suddenly aware of her strong smile, and how she knows she's going to die. And he hates himself, would this have happened had he not cut himself away from his people?
"You're eyes are alive again…" And Jeanne laughs, bright and cheerful. "And all it took was a woman's touch." She smiles. "Typical Frenchman."
And she appears on trial again a week later, she had returned back to wearing male attire (she claimed an English Lord tried to force himself on her and France is too scared she's telling the truth to find out). And just as everyone expected she's sentences to death.
And France surprises England and those who knew him as a nation. He cries, he breaks down and he blames himself for so much sin, so much. And he doesn't want to see her go, but she's going and she'll be gone and he's… he's all alone, isn't he?
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AU (1 and 8: America and Russia)-
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America boards the Russian's ship, a large and happy grin in place. He usually didn't like the stupid commie but as the sheriff of the interglacial state: 155238 he had learnt to put some matters aside. Though some matters like the fact he is very much clearly the greatest hero alive, were too personal to ignore!
"Alfred," the nutty Russian smiles his trademark creepy smile, and Alfred grins his trademarked cocky grin back not scared in the least.
No, Alfred has no problem with dealing with commies if it meant he could be a hero and stop some nuclear thieves that appeared in the state right next door. Usually as a hero he would go over and solve all the problems by his self, but his hover bike is broken and the Russian's navy ships are faster anyway.
So Alfred gives Ivan a happy greeting and they're off, putting in codes and scanning each and every sector for the thieves, but neither is in a panic about it, because after all there's a hero on board!
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Threesome (3, 6 and 9: Denmark, England and Netherlands)-
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He doesn't know how he managed to get himself stuck between Netherlands and Denmark, he doesn't even know why he agreed to go drinking with the two, seeing as these were two of the nations that had managed to conquer and control his land before. He also can't seem to understand why he allows Netherlands to map every inch of his mouth as his own tongue moves in ways that could only be translated as "I hope you're enjoying your stay".
He feels Denmark's possessive hands switching between clothes as the sudden urge to have more flesh to touch arises. He easily snaps Netherland's coat off; the man never had been one for wearing his clothes too tightly (properly, a little voice somewhere in the back of his mind chimes, but not even that nagging voice can find the energy to care because no one could deny that the Dutch nation was good looking, especially with half his shirt's buttons undone: revealing that glorious chest).
England's hands slide over Denmark's and helps the struggling Nordic nation undo his own waist coat and shirt (he knows that Denmark would destroy anything that stands in his way, be it people or clothing). The Viking's lips find his jaw and kiss lightly as a thank you for striping, not that it wasn't going to happen eventually anyway.
And it's those greedy lips that trail down England's neck: licking, biting and kissing. His possessive hands pull the now useless clothes off the smallest blonde: greedy lips claiming each and every newly revealed area (Nottinghamshire, Leicestershire, Derbyshire, York the Viking's lips lingering against those areas he used to own, the urge to reclaim growing far too strong).
Netherlands lips leave his own for half a second, long enough to refill his lungs with that oh so delicious air (that if all three of them were completely honest they didn't actually need, they were immortal after all, but they want to hear each other's moans and yells so they need to have their lungs full). And then their tongues are moving together again, in ways that they know the other enjoys.
He feels Denmark tug impatiently at his arms as his shirt gets caught around his elbows, stopping the Dane's dangerous lips from claiming more land (some he did indeed own, and some he had desperately tried to claim as his own). England pulls his arms behind himself, letting Denmark pull the offending material away from his body, and not bothering to care that the other had carelessly thrown his clothes to the furthest corner of the room (the damn awkwardness when this was over and he went to put his clothes back on was never going to leave him he knew).
The Viking kneeled behind him, lips happily mapping his land (Denmark had never been one for giving up what was his after all) as one of his hands clung onto England's; his thumb stroking along his knuckles while the other wrapped around England's waist to stroke Netherlands' through his trousers. The Dutch Nation moaned when he found Denmark's hand roughly stroking him and England's fingers teasingly gliding across his collar bone- tugging away the scarf that had managed to stay on through Denmark's assault.
Netherlands hands moved in the calculated way they were known for, easily unhooking England's belt, and pushing down the slacks England had chosen to wear (Denmark's grinning lips claiming more cities, more land). The Dutch nation's hands followed his trousers before resting mid thigh, where Netherlands moved his hands in that oh so calm, smug and perfect way that England loathed to admit that he adored.
The English nation groaned as he noticed where Netherlands hand had decided to assault (the other hand having made its way into Denmark's messy hair) – Brixham… since that bloody invasion the Dutch nation had seemingly found it oh so funny to always start touching him there (when they had sex that was and they hadn't in at least about a century… maybe longer).
It's when Netherlands lips leave his for another half a second that his eyes in their drunken haze (he knows that he's not drunk, and he knows the other two know just as well, but they all know he won't claim it as anything else, but then again neither do they) notice Netherlands gleaming eyes, that spark that England knew only appeared when one of his plans were going just as he planned.
He doesn't know what plan he's seemingly fallen into, he doesn't even know if Denmark was aware of the Dutchman's schemes, though if the grin is anything to go by he's almost completely positive Denmark knows full well what's going on. He also can't seem to understand why he ignores the warnings and carries on enjoying himself; he'd probably be able to deal with the consequences later after all.
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Hurt/Comfort (5 and 10: Australia and Canada)-
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Canada isn't surprised when he visits the Australian after they had both been given their complete freedom (they're apart of the commonwealth, but that doesn't mean as much, not when England used to control them completely, not when they used to not have a say).
Canada's happy. England doesn't hate him, or at least not completely, it's not like when America viciously ripped himself away from the empire… just when Canada had finally joined him as well… Just when the two of them were finally able to live together properly like the brothers they truly were.
Canada had asked, after showing multiple times that he was fully capable, it was a slow process, but it reassured their 'motherland' that he should be fine, it showed England that he WOULD be fine. But his idiotic brother had hurt England greatly, ripped away from their caretaker; just because they had a disagreement (that Canada knew was completely England's king's fault, not that England ever claimed as such… taking the full blame that America threw at him).
But where Canada's happy that England's still talking to him and America purposefully ignores the unsatisfying feeling of having no closure (he's afraid, Canada knows, that he and England won't ever talk again if everything gets resolved), Australia breaks. He breaks into a thousand little, little pieces.
So Canada isn't surprised when New Zealand begs him to pay a visit and he's not surprised to find his Australian brother curled up tightly in the corner, glaring lifelessly at everything and nothing.
"He won't eat," New Zealand starts when Canada looks over at their brother. "He won't listen; he's only reacted to two things. One when England visited earlier today," New Zealand sneakily whispers that England's still around and carefully skims over the details of that visit. "And mentioning America."
As if on cue Australia's eyes glare one of the deadliest glares Canada has ever seen and it shockingly reminds him of how France and England look at each other when they're not on the same side (and sometimes even then). And Canada IS shocked then, because this is Australia, and Australia isn't one for glaring at those he hates… And that scares him slightly… but not much, not enough to make him flee, to leave his brother alone… He has his own navy now, he's… strong now…
"Australia," the Canadian starts calmly, approaching his brother as New Zealand wanders off, probably to check on England, or maybe get something for everyone to eat.
"What," the usually cheerful nation snaps, eyes darkening with so many mixed emotions that Canada has to wander which of his brothers felt the separation destroy them the most.
"You…" Canada let's his head rest lightly on his brother's head and he ignores the feeling of his brother flinching away from him. "Need to break away from England…" He pauses for a moment, breaking it slowly, letting everything sink in, just as he saw France do with America all those years ago. "You need to let him go… none of the European nations are as strong as they used to be… and England can't look after us as well as he used to be able to…"
He feels Australia shaking slightly and Canada waits a moment before carrying on, he remembers how America reacted when France and the other nations had persuaded him over with convincing words. He remembers the violent reaction; he remembers how much his brother loved (loves) England, he remembers how he wasn't able to help his brother. He couldn't allow that to happen again. He'd be there for Australia.
"He needs to move on without us… and so do we. We'll only hurt each other if we continue clinging to England."
"I don't mind the pain." The tone used is final, and Australia stands up, brushes past Canada's hand. The Australians green eyes (a dryer green than England's but just as hypnotic, the eyes that could only belong to one of the most loyal colonies) look down at Canada with a slight maniac gleam, a slight smugness, a slight fear.
"Pain is nothing, to stay with him," Australia's usual grin slowly starts transforming his face, as though he never cracked in the first place and Canada has to question how many times his smile has fallen, to be able to replace it so quickly. As Australia passes, he pats Canada's shoulder lightly.
"I know you were trying to 'help' me, as you all seem to think I need it." Those green pools freak Canada out ever so slightly, they're suddenly like poison: dark, deadly and somehow tempting. "But little speeches you stole from France aren't going to 'help'," those pools freeze over. "I'm not America."
And Australia leaves and Canada stays rooted to the spot, even as New Zealand awkwardly enters, not even able to put half a smile across his face. And Canada wants to chase after Australia and beg for forgiveness, because he's just done what he always hated others doing to him hasn't he? He just put Australia on the same level as America, hadn't he? He thought Australia would be saved by the same speech that saved America… But of course he's wrong. Of course! They're different, so different and there's only one similarity that Canada can find.
And that's that they both pointedly ignore facts that annoy them. But it's that similarity that makes them so different isn't it? America's the hero who ignores and avoids anything that will destroy that 'perfect' image he has of his self and others, while Australia's a criminal who ignores anything that implies what he wants isn't his.
And it's because Canada ignorantly ignored this fact that he hasn't been able to comfort either of them isn't it? It's because of this seemingly inherited ignorance that their whole family's falling apart with no closure… isn't it?
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Crack fic (1: America)-
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Japan had made him some mochi. And he really wanted to eat it, it looked delicious. But every time he lifted it to his mouth he swore it would scream it was American… and surely eating an American was the same as eating himself… right?
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Horror (10: Canada)-
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Canada breathed in deeply, his chest heaving faster than he wanted. He needed to calm his breathing. He'll hear him if he doesn't… He'd HEAR him!
He listens to his breathing. Concentrates on it, because surely that'll make him calmer. Surely that'll make him know how loud his breathing was…
In… Out… In… Out…
But… But that's not his breathing… is it?
He jumps up. Runs. He's found him. But what did he expect? He questions everything. Is he the only one left? Is his family safe? But even if they are how would they get to him? He's cornered.
Cornered.
Cornered on his little icy piece of land, with him.
Him.
And he's so scared.
Scared.
And-
"Come out little Canada!" He hears a voice laugh loudly, hysterically. "I know you're in there… I can FEEL you in there!"
And maybe all those films got to him. Maybe he had actually always been a little insane. Maybe the power got to him. Or all those weapons of mass destruction, but one thing's positive and that's that…
America's gone insane.
America's gone INSANE…
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Baby fic: (5 and 9: Australia and Netherlands)-
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The little nation had fallen asleep in his arms, after running through bushes, climbing trees and making sure Netherlands was the one forced to chase him. Netherlands wasn't as annoyed as the other nations assumed he was going to be, he didn't really have a problem with children and knew that running around was just something a child would do.
He will admit to being annoyed, but it's not because of the small and adorable child resting in his arms.
Maybe it's to do with the fact that one of England's misguided spells (or at least that's what they had blamed, but England's a child himself, so no one's positive) had once again made everyone's lives just that little bit harder than usual.
Maybe it's to do with the fact that his sister (turned to the cute little girl she used to be) had once again chosen Spain to look after her- he had to question his brotherly skills, if she still chose that bastard.
He looks down at the little nation resting in his arms, as he snuggles closer, tiredly mumbling dreaming nonsense. He feels a slight tug pull against his lips: a genuine smile that he saved for those special occasions.
Or maybe it's because he hadn't made New Holland a colony when he had a chance. He could've raised the little nation up himself, so what if his country was so far off. His smile wavered at the sad thought, but maybe he could treat this as a second chance… maybe it'll work out well this time around… maybe.
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Dark (2 and 8: Prussia and Russia)-
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He was trapped, he was locked, he couldn't breathe.
He choked, begging the cold air to fill his lungs. Begging! He the most awesome nation was dropped to floor and needed to BEG for something.
That awful boot tightened on his neck. He couldn't breathe! He couldn't! He-
The boot loosened its hold and he breathed, quick and desperately before the boot tightened again. The boot teasing him: letting him taste the sinful fruit only to cut off the supply all over again.
"Prussia," those manic violet eyes peered down at him, observing his lack of everything. Those violet eyes that Prussia swears were never that scary, NEVER!
"You accepted those 'gifts' America sent you, didn't you?" He sounds the same as always: like a child. Russia never sounds anything less than a child and as a child he won't continue without a response, or he'll kick up a fuss and carry on asking the same question so Prussia painfully nods his 'yes' and the boot clamps down harder.
"You are a part of me now," and those violet eyes are too dangerous, and Prussia swears he can vaguely hear that sound of something metal being picked up. "And I would never accept anything from America."
There's a whooshing sound and suddenly Prussia fall limp.
"So you shouldn't too…"
And Russia's violet eyes watch in fascination as he waits for the Prussian to get back up so he can teach the nation a lesson all over again, after all more of Prussia's people were going to America and accepting those gifts that they shouldn't, that Prussia shouldn't and he wouldn't.
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Death fic (2 and 3: Prussia and Denmark)-
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No one understands, least of all him. Prussia hadn't been a country for a century when he disappeared.
The ever calm Germany slammed into the meeting room sweating buckets; questioning when the others had last seen Prussia. Germany hadn't been worried the first couple of days of no Prussia but after a week even he knew something was wrong, especially when he saw the ex-nation hadn't updated his blog or any of his other sites. After a long debate and a few requests, pleas, to England's far more advanced investigation team, the answer had become all too clear.
Prussia was gone.
There was no body (nations never got that luxury).
Denmark had attended the funeral with all the other nations (some had come to generally say their goodbyes, some out of respect and those odd few who were just there neither sad, nor caring… just doing their "duty"). He had worn the deepest black he could possibly find, as dark as the black on Prussia's old flag, he had to do his Prussian friend proud somehow (he could almost imagine the large grin spread across Prussia's face when he saw everyone wearing his flags colours: white and black, so monotone).
Throughout the whole ceremony Denmark stood and stared at the smooth black grave stone, the stone completely smooth with no inscription (Denmark feels there should be so much engraved on there, they've all had so much history… or maybe just a simple "awesome" could sum it up), but his thoughts don't change the fact that his gravestone is but one small stone among many, it doesn't change the fact that there's no body to bury (it's like they're worshipping some empty magical stone). And it doesn't change the fact that it's so unfair.
So unfair.
Denmark's one of the last to leave, his thoughts dragging him further and further from the truth, further from reality and like usual Norway and Sweden have convinced the others to leave him to himself. He could be standing by himself for a decade, he thinks, and no one would notice… not even himself (maybe he has… it feels like it sometimes).
The Dane stuffs his hands in his pockets, spares Prussia's gravestone one final look (he'll probably never come back and visit) and leaves the graveyard, not saying anything to Germany on his way out (he can't help but blame the man slightly for Prussia's end and he knows it's not fair, not when Germany probably blames himself for his brother's death just as much, but he can't help it).
England stands at the gate, their eyes meet and it becomes awkward. They're not used to starting pleasant interactions between each other. Pleasant drinking between the two had always been prompted by a third party (usually Prussia) and any other interactions between the two usually revolved around invasions, wars and anything in-between.
But that's just the thing that's between him and England and it's what's always made England a constant in his life. War, sex and booze. That's all the two had ever needed (though not always the most wonderful experiences had appeared from the events caused by their big three).
And Denmark wants to invite England out for a drink, but it suddenly feels too personal… and adding another person to their drinking session feels as though they're replacing Prussia (and they both know that even with Prussia gone forever, he can't be replaced- it's impossible). So they stand there at the gate of the graveyard, the gate of death, and just silently shuffle about hoping something will happen and-
"Don't beat yourself or anyone else up over his death," England mutters, and it's the first time out loud that he hears Prussia's disappearance referred to what it truly is… it's his death. "Remember Prussia thinks he's awesome and would love his death to be the start of world war three and he probably believes we should all be crying and wallowing in defeat, but he isn't heartless." England looks at him and Denmark sees the reflection of his self clearly in those deep emerald eyes. "He wouldn't want you to kill yourself over his death."
And for some reason Denmark feels as though he can breathe again, because England's right isn't he? Though Prussia would never claim such things he's sure England knows… and he remembers somewhere in his mind a memory of Norway explaining how both he and England could see the dead… so he can trust England right…? England would know… right…
Prussia would want them to carry on… to have them carry on his legacy… And it is his legacy, because there was no way England and Denmark would have become friends without Prussia's infuriating insistence…
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A/N:
So peoples! I'm so close to updating all my series frequently again, because after next week I'm finished until the 9th of September! Happy days! And I thought I'd give you something to look at seeing as I had this lying around for a bit now. And yes, I'm not sure, because I found a folder filled with a bunch of random one shots that I never put on, because one I thought I lost them and two because some are really long. So should I bombard you with them all or… Put them up every now and they're mainly pairings I've written or mentioned absolutely loving before… so yeah…. Suggestions? Also! Who thought picking a university to study in would be so hard, am I right? So many conflicting emotions, and with most of the best universities being in the NORTH OF ENGLAND and me being in the SOUTH, che! The good ones in the South are the overly hard, you need straight A's to even think about it ones! There's no way I'll get in there. And because I live in the city with one of the big Russell group universities, the ones nearer in commuting distance aren't… AMAZING for English (cause that's my planned subject). And because I'm staying at home for complicated reasons I'm going to have to commute an hour to each place (that's by train). So… yeah –le sigh-
ALSO! It's taken me this long to figure out you can see how many people from different countries have read your stories, etc. And I thought mainly English people read my stories, because well it's usually only people from England who talk to me outside of leaving comments. So I was bloody well surprised how many different countries read my story (no offence to some countries when my response was- they actually HAVE computers there, I've only really interacted with French people, British people, Americans and Chinese oh and ONE Russian, Polish and Turkish person, so I'm oblivious to most cultures, which I wish I wasn't true!)
ANYWAY! Rant over (I can't even remember where that rant was going, but oh well!) onto info to each drabble:
First time
-Set through Queen Mary the first's time, I couldn't be bothered to research anymore when this was made, because this was actually the last one I filled, so I just decided to go base it in a time I knew more than enough about. So yes Spain's Phillip marries England's Mary as a way to keep England Catholic among other things, but che!
2- Angst
-when I wrote this I had been writing a fan fiction based on the blitz and where my original idea for France was to go with that time with him all abandoned I decided to quickly change the idea and as you can see it's a little all over the place. And so I'm not too happy with it… It could be better. But I'm sure you all know about Jeanne D'Arc, right? Right. (France AND England are to blame for her death by the way, not just England like people seem to like writing it).
3- AU
-Well I've never wrote something with Russia and America on their own, so I decided to chose the first thing I could think of between them and it was space, so this came to life… again it could be better. (And sorry for the nutty Russian comment, I was watching David Mitchell rants at the time and it just HAD to be added).
4- Threesome
-I enjoyed this one so much! I feel like I have nothing else to say but YUM! And hey they have history as I shall prove to you all with another fan fiction based on these three! (Oh and in case I wasn't clear enough cities and places mentioned were ones that Netherlands and Denmark had invaded when they went to take over, and succeeded… for awhile at least). Also do you think I may have made them a little out of character? Because I was thinking Denmark might need to be a bit more talkative… though I can use the excuse that Netherland's scheme involves Denmark not accidently blurting something out… And what was this scheme? I wonder…
5- Hurt/Comfort
-The original idea was to actually have them both comforting each other, but I read a fan fiction (that you should all read if you like Australia/England) called Bootstraps and God, changed my head cannon slightly and now I'm in a huge inner debate about how Australia should act (especially after research towards the country, normal Aussies are lovely (and I love you guys so much), but I've got to say your Politicians at times seem a little… paranoid, underhanded and divided to say the least, but then maybe I've only heard about the worst ones!) so yeah, I kinda liked this one as well, gotta adore England's colonies.
6- Crack
No comment! (Can you believe at the age of 13 I used to be able to write pages of crack fiction without a problem and now that's the best I can come up with?)
7- Horror
My problem with horror is the same problem I have with comedy if I'm put into a position where I HAVE to write it I have no idea what to put, so you're left with this not so good thing!
8- Baby Fic
Netherlands found Australia before England, named it but didn't do anything to it (mainly cause it was far away and far away colonies are hard to look after, was why England was sceptical at first as well) simple as that.
9- Dark
The "gift" Russia talks about is (I learnt this from QI by the way so blame them if it's wrong) when the Berlin Wall was up America (I think England and some other European nations helped but it was mainly America) sent food, but one pilot started sending sweets down for children and it became a great propaganda thing, so yeah…
10- No comment! Other than Fail Brothers Trio, is yet another wonderful trio that features Prussia, wouldn't you agree?
Ok, enough from me I hope you enjoyed!
