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"Does everyone in america have a gun?"
Alfred F. Jones: also known as America, turned to see his friend (your name), surfing the internet, a keen look in her eyes as she scanned each word on the depicted site she was on.
"Whaa-dude what you readin'?" Alfred just chuckled, hoping she would ignore not getting an answer.
Well that sure wasn't gunna happen.
"Does everyone in america have a gun?" she asked again, earing only a yawn and a stretch from Alfred.
"No (your name), not EVERYONE in america has a gun."
"Okay.." she mumbled, and continued to search on the same sight. A few moments later, while Alfred was chowing down on a tastely hamburger, (your name)'s voice rang through his ears before he could even taste the meat or lettuce.
"What now dude?" he asked, hoping she'd be quick so he could get on with his meal.
"Is it ture that everyone in America eats Macdonald's on an everyday basis?"
Alfred had to think for a moment.
"Nope, dude...why you-"
"Are american people always racist?"
"Do canadians kids ride polar bears to school?"
Matthew Williams, also known as Canada, peered up from his newspaper to look at his friend, (your name) glaring into the computer screen in front of her.
"Uh...no (your name), we don't ride polar bears at all." he said, flipping to a new page without hassle.
"Okay." she sighed, making a funny shape with her tounge while waiting for the next page to load. Matthew gave her a little look before looking back blushing. She's so damn cute, he thought.
"Do canadians play hockey all the time?"
Matthew gave a puzzling look before finally answering.
"N-no. Some don't play hockey at all much less every-"
"Is it true you put mayple syrup on everything?"
Matthew turned lightly pink, becayse of the horrible stereotypicalism. Did people really think that about canadians? Nobody remembered him anyway so what did it matter? What was worse to him now what was (your name) thought of him.
"Do canadians give people whatever they want because their 'soo' nice?
"Feliciano can I ask you a question?"
A happy-go-lucky italian lifted his head from his bowl of pasta to see his friend (your name) using his computer.
"(N)-(Your name)!? How'd you ah get in my house-"
"Are Italian's all loud?"
Feliciano looked almost offended.
"N-no. Bu-but why are you-"
"Is it true most to all italians are fat and hairy?"
The italian man's eyes widened. His brows then made a depressed look.
"No (Your name)! See! Look at me!"
(Your name) turned to see her italian friend point to himself, and taking a look at hm she knew that wasn't true. Well..for him at least.
"Is that all (your name)? I would like to-"
(Your name)'s eyes glared onto the screen before laughing out loud. Feliciano still didn't look to happy.
"What is it now (your)-"
"Is is true italians have ties with the mafia?" she began to laugh again. "Wow."
Feliciano poked his friend in the shoulder. (Your name) turned her head to be..extremely close to his. She didn't even know he was there.
"Those things aren'
"(Your name) vhat are you looking at?" Ludwig, also known as germany, replied standing above the (h/c) haired girl sitting at his computer. She was hardly paying attention, just glaring at the screen in front of her.
"Hmm.." was all he got from her. Sighing, he grabbed a newspaper and began to read it while still staring at her, wondering what on earth she was doing.
"Is it true all Germans are mean and tough?"
Ludwig took a moment to understand what she was asking, making sure he didn't take it the wrong way.
"No (your name), why vould you think something like zat-"
"Are Germans always angry?"
His face began to heat up. It was like she was pressuring him.
"No (your name), I don't see why zis is-"
"Are all Germans obsessed with beer?"
Ludwig's eyebrow twitched slightly.
"N-no! Verdammit (your name).."
"Do you guys only eat sausage and schnitzels?"
"Of course not!" Ludwig was getting furious. Not at (your name), but at the damn stereotypes she was reading about him and his culture. He d
"Francis, is it true french people drink wine like water?"
The blond haired french-man looked over at his friend (your name), and a smile appeared on his face.
"Well I love za wine~" he laughed. "But non. It's not drunk like water-"
"Is is true french wash less often than others?"
He nearly screamed. Well he did, just in a non-many way.
"Zat is not true (your name)! I love to be clean!" he flipped his hair with a wink, making (your name) smrik and turn back into her seat.
"What are you doing anyway?" Francis peered over his friends shoulder to see 'French Stereotypes' on the screen. He didn't seem to happy about it.
"(Your name) don't tell me your-"
"Is it true french people are rude and racist?"
"NON!" Francis shouted, a little more angry than girly this time.
"Well is it true french always eat frogs all the time?"
Francis sighed, and just answered the questions.
"Zat is not true either."
(Your name) sighed, and began to tap her fingers along the desk. To Francis, he thought it was pr
"Everyone drinks Vodka?"
The tall Russian man names Ivan, looked up to his dear friend (your name), who was 'supposed' to be looking for information about America. Don't ask why he wanted HER specifically to do it, maybe it was because he just liked seeing her. But for now, he was wishing he hadn't.
"No (your name)." Ivan replied, although chuckling to himself since HE was drinking vodka at the moment himself.
"Is Russia cold all year round?" (Your name) asked again, still looking at the computer screen in front of her.
Ivan felt like it was going to burn her eyes.
"No no (your name) it's not. But, why are you-"
"Russians only own warm clothes?"
Ivan gave her a 'are-you-retarded' look, before sighing and going towards her. Leaning over her shoulder, and peering at the computer screen. 'Russian Stereotypes' was the main page.
"Why are looking at this (your name)? You're supposed to look for America's weaknesses."
"I know I know. Hold on." (your name) giggled, making Ivan lean back a lit
"Norwegian's look as if they're soaked in bleach.."
Lukas Bondevik, turned his head to see (first name) (last name) glaring at a computer screen, seemingly talking to herself.
Finding this all to interesting, Lukas peered over, accidentally resting his head on her shoulder, making her gasp and turn to see him.
"Lukas you scared me!" she replied, clicking the minimize button.
"What were you looking at?" he asked, taking the mouse, putting his hand over hers and moving the mouse back to the website she was on. It wasn't really a site though. She was looking up 'Norwegian Stereotypes', and Lukas raised an eyebrow.
(Your name) just let out a sarcastic laugh.
"Can I ask you a few questions then?" she smiled brightly, with Lukas giving her another strange look.
(your name) went right to it, and began to asking questions.
"Does everyone ski in Norway?"
"No." Lukas answered rather quickly. He thought he should maybe speak a little slower.
"Hmm.." (your name) went on. "Is it true that m
“(Your name) what are you looking at?” Emil, the white haired Icelandic man asked, while watching his friend shuffle through random sites on the computer. He didn't have the slightest idea why she was at his house, but he didn't care. He rather her be over more than anyone else.
“Just some things to ask you..” (your name) replied, a smile appearing on her face, seeing as she found the site she wanted.
“What do you want to ask me then?” Emil replied questionably, as if ready for some super tricky math question, for something about his brother or-
“Is is true that Iceland has the strongest men and women?” she asked, causing him to rethink over the whole 'tricky math' thing. Emil took a moment to wonder why she even cared about this kind of information.
“That is said by some. But-”
“Is it true male tourists to Iceland can easily get laid?”
Emil raised an eyebrow, showing off on his 'what are you talking about' looks,
South Italian Stereotypes...
To say your friend Lovino can get easily angered was an understatement. He'd never admit he was wrong, even if the whole party knew it was his fault.
At least he was nice towards you-and usually just women in general. However as you flipped open your notepad-to reveal your list of 'questions' you were going to ask him-you couldn't help but feel that it was going to end badly.
It was tough to find the few questions you had, but it was definetly worth it. Knocking on Lovino's door, he opened it with a wide mouth like he was expecting someone he didn't like.
"Oh..it is you (Name)." he mumbled, crossing his arms. "You may come in."
"Thanks." you smiled and poked his nose, not watching him blush and rub it as you walked in.
"S-so..why are you here anyway?" he asked, his arms still crossed and his foot tapping like he hadn't much time and needed to be somewhere.
"I have some things I'd like to ask you."
"Pfft. Why?" he asked, not even giving you a chance to state what 'kind' of questions.
Sexual Tension: England x ReaderWARNING: I swear in this. Get over it, the whole world swears all the time. As I once made an Italian say, “Swearing is good for the soul.”
“I take that as a compliment, stuck up bastard!”
“At least I’m civilized, arse!”
“Well, your language begs to differ!”
“Guys, guys, calm down and listen to the hero’s awesome plan!” America interrupted you and England’s bickering.
But both of you turned to him in a rage and yelled, “FAT ASS!” which effectively sent him away to sulk.
I guess all of you must have been pretty boring, and with you taking care of fighting with England, France was dozing off before you screamed. He groggily opened his eyes, calling out, “I disagree with all of you.”
“SHUT IT, FROG!” you and England yelled again, onl
Hetalia EnglandxReader - Stuck In a Box
"Alfred! Where are we going?!" I said as Alfred pushed me along through his gigantic house.
He snickered. "You'll see~!"
I rolled my eyes.
We arrived at a door, which Alfred opened and shoved me into the room, closing and locking the door. It turns out the room wasn't a room-- it was a closet. It was a small, empty closet, barely able to fit two people.
Wait. Two people. . .
I banged my fist on the door. "Alfred Foster Jones! Get me out of this closet, or so help you, I will--"
Before I could say any more, the door opened and Arthur was pushed in. The door closed, pushing Arthur closer to me. I could see his emerald green eyes staring at me through the darkness. My face heated up, and I felt his heat up as well.
"Ah. . . Arthur. . ."
"Oh, _____," he muttered. "H-Hello, love. . ."
"Um. . . Did Alfred drag you in here, too?"
He nodded. "Yes. He didn't even bother explaining to me why."
"Ah. . ."
He didn't know, but I did. Alfred knew about my crush on Arthur; he probably thought t
Weak spots- EnglandxReaderToday was turning out to very boring for Arthur. Even with his usually entertaining girlfriend ___________ over, this day was turning out to be boring.
Of course, perhaps if said girlfriend was paying more attention to him rather than… whatever the hell she was looking at on her laptop, that might help things a little bit.
"Remind me why I invited you over again?" He asked, annoyed.
"You tell me." Was your oh-so-concerned reply.
An anime vein popped on Arthur's head and he growled. "Gee, I don't know. Maybe I just wanted to spend time with my girlfriend. You know, without her laptop?"
You groaned and rolled your eyes, which didn't leave the computer screen. "Look, I promise I'll give you my full attention in just a few minutes, okay? I just wanna finish reading this comic."
"You're ignoring me to read a webcomic?"
"Hey, you've ignored me to read books. In fact, why don't you go read one now?"
Arthur was not having this, not in his own home. You were going to give him your full at
Hetalia Seven Minutes In Heaven America
You pull out a piece of cheese from the hat. "Yeah this is creative, who's is this?"
"Dude that's totally mine!" America throws the hat at Ukraine, picks you up and locks you two inside the dark closet. "Man, we totally lucked out getting each other huh?" He plopped down on the floor with you still in his arms.
"I guess so, I mean I really wasn't interested in playing, but getting you makes it a little better." You liked America, but there was no way you were just going to out and tell him that.
"A little better? Come on now "_____" You've hurt my feelings… I'm the best, the hero! I'm really glad you picked me, I wouldn't want to be stuck in a dark, cramped closet with anyone else." America snuggled you tight and nuzzled you on the neck. "Besides, I know you like me… Italy told me. He couldn't keep a secret if his life depended on it."
"I have no idea what you're talking about, I never told Italy anything like that…" You were blushing now.
"Really? Because he said that you had
Detecting lies (EnglandXReader)A lie detector. A bloody lie detector. That’s what he bought me here for?! Arthur slammed his hands on the table. “Alfred, enough of this! This is ridiculous!” It was bad enough that the American’d dragged him to one of his infamous parties, but this was just plain stupid.
“C’mon dude, it’ll be totally fun!” He shouted, pulling Arthur back into the throng of people. “’Kay guys! Now’s the time we’ve all been waiting for! Time to hook Iggy up to the lie detector!” Arthur growled as the crowd cheered.
You frowned, as you were one of the few that actually got along with the Brit. “But he clearly doesn’t want to!” You called, feeling a large number of eyes trained on you. Arthur smiled gently, he liked you most out of all the people here.
You were nice to him for one, but also considerate, kind and funny. In short he adored being around you. Alfred brushed off your comment. “He’s got
EnglandxReader .:Sleepless:.“Arthur...?” you said as you opened the door to his room with a slow and loud creak.
You could hear loud thunder noises
“A-Arthur” you said, the light from the lightning flashed light through the window.
He could see your watering eyes.
“What is it,love?” he asked in his usual North London accent, which always seemed to calm your nerves.
The thunder crackled and on cue you whimpered,
“Love, are you scared of the thunder?” Arthur asked half asleep; sitting on his queen sized bed.
“No..it not that.” You said staring in to the dark room, the moonlight that shone through the window helped you see.
“Come inside and tell me.” He said rubbing his eyes sleepily; He looked like a child with not enough sleep.
“I had a really bad dream and this weather is not helping..” you said as you slowly walked over.
“Come here,” he patted the spot next to him on the bed.
You took a seat next to him and hugged him
EnglandxReader: Family Mornings
You smiled as you sat up in bed. Pulling the sheets closer to your body you looked over at your sleeping husband. He was snoring. Mouth hanging open, drooling on the pillow.
Brushing a bit of hair out of his face you leaned down and kissed him gently on the cheek. You always got up this early to make him tea and breakfast before he woke up. Slipping out of bed you felt a pair of arms wrap around your waist.
He was trying to pull you back in his sleep. Gingerly you disentangled his arms from you and slipped on your bathrobe.
You made him his tea and some eggs and toast.
Mama, a little voice from the kitchen whispered. You turned to see Matthew.
What is it baby?
Matthew was holding his toy bear to his chest, Im hungry can we have pancakes?
You shook your head, How about toast?
The ten year old sighed, but nodded and sat at the kitchen table rubbing his eyes.
A few mintues later rapid footsteps were heard, MA!
England x Reader - Snog
It sounded a bit funny.
But what did it mean?
These were the thoughts that filled your mind as you continued on your stroll around the park near your house. Earlier, Francis had come up to you and told you to ask Arthur to snog you...
When you had asked what the word 'snog' meant, he merely did that funny 'Ohonhonhon~' laugh of his, his perverted smirk growing a bit wider. He then said, 'Arthur will show you soon, ma cherie!' before walking away, leaving you confused.
You had considered looking it up, but being the lazy person you were you decided not to. Snog couldn't be a bad thing, could it?
...Well, maybe it could, considering how Francis had told you to ask Arthur to snog you. And, well... Francis is a big fat pervert. Snog could very well mean sex if it came from Francis. And you didn't plan to lose your virginity just yet.
Well actually, losing your virginity to Arthur wouldn't
EnglandxReader: Notebook EntriesLooking at the shelves of books, Arthur Kirkland found a familiar looking girl in the library. It was (Name), a girl from his class. They talked to each other once in a while, and ate together sometimes, too.
"Hello, Miss (Last Name)," he greeted as he approached her. Unfortunately for him, they were still on formal terms.
(Name) clutched her notebook close to her and smiled. "Hi, Mister Kirkland. How are you?"
"I'm alright, thank you for asking. I'm just looking for a good book. And I'm guessing that you're looking for one too?"
She laughed a bit before trying to reach up to get one, barely touching the book's spine. "Yes, I am."
Arthur noticed her difficulty since she was shorter than him and the shelf. Since he was such a gentleman, he reached up with little efforts and got the book for her. "Is this the one?"
(Name) nodded and thanked him in return. He noticed she wasn't giving any eye contact and there was a slight tint of pink on her cheeks, which brought him to look
The blond haired english man looked towards his friend (your name), raising an eyebrow in the process.
"Yes (your name)?"
Without warning, the blond man's eyes widened as (your name) opened his mouth as if trying to seek some buried teasure. She peered into his mouth and stared at his teeth.
"You don't have bad teeth Arthur!"
"Bloody hell woman!?" Arthur turned red, realizing how close her mouth was to his, however the girl in front of him didn't care.
(Your name) pulled out a small notepad and paper and checked something off.
Arthur began to get curious.
"What's that (your name)..?" he asked as calmly as he could. He was beginning to get worried of what she was planning.
"A list." she mumbled, not paying much attention to her british friend.
She looked up at him, her (e/c) eyes shining.
"I'm trying to see if the british stereotypes are real!" she sounded so happy about it.
Arthur didn't like it one bit, but before he could ask, she was blurting out questions.
The Parlour IncidentOne day in July, I believe it was, I found myself sitting with several acquaintances in Christopher's parlour. It was one of those deliciously lazy afternoons which only the summer in her full glory can bring. The room had a wan, listless light to it, relaxing the other guests and myself as we languidly chatted over tea and crumpets. The air was also sluggishly heavy, dulling the senses to a slowly-blended calm engendered by the heat of St. Othniel's southerly climate.
At length, after much stimulating conversation, Christopher stood, producing a book of sheet music.
"What do you all say to a bit of music?" he asked.
"Certainly," I answered.
"Oh yes, please do darling!" Tabitha exclaimed, "he's quite the maestro."
Christopher laughed, shaking his head.
"Now, now love, I'd not go that far."
He strode over to the piano as the other guests urged him on. Ida entered the room bearing a merrily steaming teapot and more crumpets.
"More tea sirs?" she inquired, shooting sideways glances at her
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Lilyas has dedicated herself to making our community a brighter place with her vibrant artwork and infectious enthusiasm for interacting with others in our community. It has certainly paid off, as many deviants flock to her page on a daily basis to let her know how much of an inspiration she is. We absolutely agree, and couldn't let all that hard work go without recognition, so it's with great pride that we bestow the Deviousness Award for March 2014, to ... Read More