Challenge time! Get your keyboards ready, boys and girls!
So in this challenge, the objective is to write a one (or possibly a two) shot in which a character or a group of characters tries a challenge.
Examples: The Cinnamon Challenge, The Milk Challenge, The Cereal Challenge.
The only rules are: These fics are strictly Hetalia-no crossovers! The fic had to be K+ or T. There has to be a warning of any pairings included in any challenge fics. Yoai and Yuri is allowed. No mpreg, pregnancies, heavy romance, or dark themes please.
First place prize: A one shot of your choice.
Second place prize: A small ficlet of your choice.
Third: Um, A mention in one of my stories?
Please PM me if you are interested in the contest! It runs from now (November 13th) to January 11th. No late entries will be accepted.
And now, to make this legal, a short ficlet of Romano trying the Cinnamon Challenge! Enjoy!
It looked so innocent, glittering on the silver spoon extended in front of the Italian. Really, what was the harm? It was just brown powder. Then again, it was the tomato bastard who'd told him to do this. Speaking of Spain- "What are you waiting for, Lovi?"
Romano turned. "Shut up, bastardo!" He said, flushing slightly. He shoved the spoon into his mouth before he could receive any more prompting from Spain. Romano's mouth almost immediately went dry and he tried hard not to choke. Frowning, he began trying to swallow the cinnamon. But the country could not. His eyes began watering and he refused to cough, even though his lungs screamed at him to do so.
The Italian refused to let Spain see him struggling and he turned to the sink. Just as his lungs were fit to burst, Romano started hacking. Sparkling brown powder clumps splattered Antonio's spotless kitchen. Romano felt slight regret-he'd worked so hard to clean it earlier-before he returned to hacking up any and all sinister spice out of his airway. He suddenly became aware that Spain was rubbing his back, trying to soothe him.
Romano almost shrugged him off, but instead he spat into the sink. Gasping, he grabbed a cup out of the cupboard and chugged water until there was barely a trace of cinnamon left in his mouth. He stood breathing raggedly for a moment before whirling back around to glare at Spain. "Why the fuck did you tell me to do that, bastardo!?I nearly died!"
The older country did nothing but chuckle. "Sorry Lovi, but you look like a litte tomato when your face is all red like that."
If Romano's face could have gotten any redder, it would have. "Don't call me that!" He grumbled as he headed out of the kitchen-presumably to grab something to clean up the cinnamon with, as it was everywhere.
As if reading Spain's thoughts, he yelled back into the kitchen, "And I'm not cleaning that up, either, tomato bastard!"
Chuckling at the younger country's cuteness, Spain moved to get the broom and clean up the mess.
How was that? Anyway, submit your stories!